The White Forest (Mages and Kingdoms Book 2) (16 page)

Amelie

"I understand why you
are doing this. You are a strong woman and will make a powerful queen, one Candor needs. But you are to be my wife and in this request, you will obey me: you are not to leave my side."

"Seth-"

"No. You listen. You will lead your people into battle. I will be one of those people and I will follow you everywhere on that battlefield. But death will fall on me before it touches you, by the Angels, I swear it. I trust no one else to the task."

Amelie clearly saw the fierce determination in his expression and quite frankly she wanted him close to her as strongly as he wanted to be near her. In this she had no argument save for the last part of his declaration but she kept that to herself.

"You’re my soulguard. I understand."

Seth shook his head, his eyes full of admiration and frustration all at once. "Somehow I think you will still find a way to test me out there, love. Unintentional as it may be."

He stole a quick kiss, then passed her the daggers she always kept on her side and a canteen of water. Together, they moved to the tree meeting General Tatum and Draeden's Captain Turk in the thick of the army camp. All eyes were on Amelie and she carried the stares like bricks on her shoulders.

"We will move that way," she said, pointing east of the field to a section of hills in the distance.

General Tatum narrowed his eyes. "If we march west, we'll surround them your Majesty. It will be a quicker fight."

Amelie licked her lips nervously. She knew the general would say as much but she'd thought about this the evening before, reflecting on these decisions in her tent. "That is true, General. The hills cause a much narrower entry, but it allows us elevation in our attack and more lives will be spared. If we are losing, retreat is quicker. We can regroup and change tactics."

The soldiers eyed her with distrust. They were more experienced in battle tactics than she and her position on the matter was faltering. Seth found her hand and laced his fingers through hers before giving them a squeeze.
Trust your instinct,
his gesture told her.

She stiffened her composure. "Gentlemen," she addressed them with authority. "I know your years in the training field make you better able to read battle strategy. I appreciate that knowledge and I call on it now. My goal for this fight is to send a message to Grantham that we are united and ready to fight with as little loss of life as possible. So if you have a more effective way to accomplish this than marching the hills, I shall be most grateful to hear it." No man said anything and Amelie added with passion, "I will not win this with bloodied numbers."

Captain Turk cleared his throat. "Then I think the hills do make the best course of action," he agreed. "The men will tire from the length of the fight, but we can keep a rotating front line." He cut Seth a quick look before adding, “If you wish to avoid deaths, the magic you possess would be most effective.”

Amelie expected this and had a response ready. “We are a kingdom of humans. A human will be her ruler. While I do not deny my mage half, it is not what will win this war.”

“You mean this battle?” Captain Turk corrected.

Amelie’s stern look fixed on him. “No,” she answered. “I mean this war. This battle is a crack in the kingdom that needs repairing before it stretches into Draeden as well. I am no better than the soldier beside me and my knowledge of that will solidify us, not mage tricks. Ready the troops."

Amelie

The armor Amelie cursed
only yesterday proved its worth one hundred times over in the thick of battle. More than one weapon shoved against it, its wielder caught off guard by the presence of it and forced to draw back to deliver a deeper blow. It was during these second attempts that Amelie inflicted the most damage. Deprived of her horse, she shoved her short sword into whatever pliable target she could find on her enemy. Captain Lucas had taught her about the impenetrable metal of their northern enemies. He showed her how to slice at their weaker, exposed areas, forcing them to amend their attacks and waiting for the opening to drive a point into their eye socket or in the thin line of exposure between helmet and breast plate.

They were slower because of it. They were losing.

Her other armor, a determined prince of flesh and bone and glittering, angry blue eyes, stood at her back, shielding her from attacks she could not see. She heard his grunts as took on even more soldiers than she. Tall and fierce, he drew a lot more enemy attention than her smaller stature and scrappy methods of parrying.

This gave her moments with which to study the field. The Grantham general kept pushing his line forward through the narrowed path, using his numbers to weaken them. Talon stood on one of the hills, downing scouts that attempted to gain height to see how much more of the troops they had left to fight. With no clear view beyond the hills, it was impossible. The Grantham general was gambling with a dangerous hand.

It was taking several rotations of Candor and Draeden troops, but the Grantham army was growing weary. They had expected an attack to their west. Their heavy artillery and skilled soldiers had finally made their way to the eastern frontline but not before much blood was spilled and morale was low.

Amelie took refuge behind a line of Draeden soldiers. She drew deep, replenishing breaths and accepted a bag of water from one of the men. Seth gulped his own bag nearby. Sweat ran like rivers down his forehead and by his ears. His face was a mess of smudged dirt, blood, and grass. Though they were shielded from the worst of it, a strong grip remained on his sword.

"The general will pull out," Amelie said. "I can see it in his countenance. His horse is uneasy, stepping from side to side. It can feel its rider's nervousness."

Seth raised his eyebrows, impressed. "One more rotation? We can put our heavy clubbers in front and your archers right behind. Attack them hand to hand and just beyond to finish it quickly."

Amelie was about to agree when she saw an arrow hit Talon deep in his throat. He stumbled a moment, bow still poised to shoot before his own arrow fell limply to the ground and his body behind it. The gasp that erupted from Amelie was slight but even in the din of battle, Seth heard it and turned to see his friend fall.

Enemy soldiers clamored to the rocks, a free pass where Talon had held them off before.

Seth flinched in his instinct to run to him, his first oath of protection to Amelie. It was only a shocked moment that passed before she began to sprint towards Talon, screaming at the archers to retrain their aim. Seth followed close at her heels.

The ones she passed that heard her order obeyed and began picking off the soldiers that climbed the rocks. There were too many, though.  They swarmed like ants to food now that the threat of a close-ranged arrow was gone.

Amelie cut behind clusters of her men to ascend the hill on the slope. Several soldiers joined her to hold the elevation.

She met the Grantham men as they crested the top, her daggers flashing. She had dropped her sword somewhere along her frantic run as she ripped the necklace from her neck. The daggers nicked her opponents swiftly. Wrists, kneecaps, the soft fabric covering shoulders where arm plates didn't quite reach. Anywhere the armor had to part so the soldier could bend a joint, she cut. She left them broken for the soldier behind her to finish off.

She was too close to the enemy. Her daggers were too short. Too many lucky swipes were used to dodge killing blows. When enough men had joined the fight to hold the hill, Amelie ran to Talon's side and knelt before him. Blood gurgled from his mouth.

She pulled the last of the moonstone tonic from her side satchel and drank. The liquid warmed her veins and she dizzied from the rush. Instructions to sip it were not going to save her friend and she gulped the blue magic in two swallows.

Like Lord Hightower, she looked Talon in the eyes. "Fight to live," she told him. She ripped the arrow from his neck without warning, opening the wound in a sickening gash. His eyes rolled into his head. She pressed her hand to the hole and screamed. She needed his focus back.

It snapped to her and she held his stare as she drained herself. She pulled from her core. It was faster that way. She needed to heal him fast. His blood drenched her.

The two of them switched places in health. Talon sucked life back into him with each breath and Amelie grew weaker until she was laid out on the grass, fevered and twitching. It was Talon's turn to lean over her, squeezing her hand. Only he was helpless to aid her. Her eyesight blurred and sharpened. Darkness and sunshine. She faded in and out of consciousness.

It was during a bout of consciousness that she saw Talon ripped away from her side, knocked from his feet by a brute twice his size wielding a javelin. She rolled her head to the side, a soundless "No!" trying to cry out from within her. She was too weak to help him.

Talon, still weary from his near death struggled to stand. He was kicked in the face by the soldier's heavy boot. The thick javelin spear was raised and thrusted down.

Instead of coring into Talon's armor, the point was driven into Seth's back.

Seth, tired and weaponless from taking on every soldier who attempted to interfere with Amelie's healing.

Seth, who lost his sword in a grueling fight with a Grantham soldier, biting and punching, scraping out of the intimate fight with an opportune snap of the opponent's neck.

Seth, who dove in front of his fallen comrade with the only shield he had left, taking the javelin straight through his leather armor, the point sticking out of his chest through his heart.

A scene all too familiar to Amelie when she herself caught a sword through her back a year ago. But there was no soulguard here. There was nothing to stop the life seeping from his eyes. He had only a moment to glance at her as he fell to his knees before his eyes went blank with death. His body hit the ground in a lifeless thud.

Amelie

The words came easily
to Amelie now. They didn’t trail from her mouth like wisps of gold smoke but were screamed, a bloody and raw sound that pierced the air as she rode. Still, the forest blurred as she went faster. The magic words still held their purpose.

It took hours. She could feel the difference in weight than when she magicked alone. She had to focus harder on the spell and her body felt weary and cold.

Except for her arms. Amelie’s arms burned. To keep from dropping him, Amelie had tied Seth to the horse and pressed against him as she rode. Between squeezing her body to his and expelling magic, it was all she could do not to drop him in front of the palace gates. The moonstone had burned in her veins but she could scarcely feel it now. In its place was a cold unlike any she’d ever known.

Claudia and Simon rushed out to meet her, alerted of her incoming by standing soldiers. Amelie’s legs crumpled as she slid off the horse. Soldiers helped untie Seth and lower him gently to the ground. Claudia’s breath hitched as she surveyed his lifeless form and her eyes swung sadly to meet her sister’s. The look broke the elder princess.

She shivered violently from cold and tears as she clawed at Simon.

“Take me to him!” she demanded. “Take me to his realm. We have to go get him back.”

Simon wrapped his arms around her and took her nails in his shirt and skin. Amelie grew more frantic at his calm embrace.

“Simon, NOW!”

“He’s gone, Amelie,” Simon whispered.

“He’s not gone. We can go get him. I can’t do it alone. We need your gift. Please, Simon.”

“I can’t enter that realm. No one can. It is death to do so.”

“So be it!” Amelie roared. And when she saw Simon wouldn’t relent, pushed away from him with heavy sobs and fell down next to Seth.

She didn’t see Kernan appear and drop next to her, the horror stripping his voice from his throat. It wasn’t until he leaned forward and cradled his brother that Amelie rose to her feet, unsteady and disoriented. The world dulled to a gray around her. Millie was not far from Kernan and enveloped her friend before she could collapse.

Amelie’s knees shook. “He’s gone,” she whispered into Millie’s golden locks. Her voice made it real and a new wave of pain threatened to end her. Amelie’s head pounded. “Millie, I lost him.”

Trinity

They came to her
as she bid, the dried blood of humans crusted in their hair. Two of the four. Reddick and Edon. Fallen in battle, they explained of their missing brothers. How loyal they were to her, she thought. Both of the dead mages harnessed the power of moving objects with only their mind. They could have turned the enemies' swords unto themselves. Instead, they'd relied on their limbs and steel to defend them. Because she'd ordered them to infiltrate the humans without their magic. They were dead because they obeyed until they collapsed in blood.

She lives, the two survivors informed her. Her lover died.

Trinity shook her head. It was not enough. Her heart pounded. She knew. Oh, she knew. She felt it ripple around her ever since that half mage tore out of the realm and she was forced to once again take an interest in the humans.

Seek her out. Destroy her.

But what she found instead rattled her to the core. Because in the human realm, lurking there, was another half mage. Black hair like coal. Blue eyes like the deep mountain lakes. A striking jawline to match his mother's.

It was undeniable. Elmeda lived. Or had lived. Swarms of shrouded mages scoured the human realm but it was quickly learned that she'd passed many years ago. But not without bearing at least one mage son.

Resistance.

The power bit at Trinity in frustrating jabs. Reddick and Edon's account was not sufficient. No. She had to go into the human realm. Dead or not, she needed to go. She summoned her strongest gatekeeper. Arcos. His whispers held great speed. Her travels were not exhausting or unbearably long.

It was but a day and a half before she stood at the entrance of the tomb. How much time had passed since the deathly blow this mixed mage took? A day and a half of travel. Three days for burial. That equaled four and a half days since his death.

She would know very soon.

The trip back to her realm was much slower, the coal-haired, blue-eyed body was heavy to carry even with the whispers. They had to stop in a snatch of forest where the mountains were still a mere skyline. They had to stop and wait.

Trinity lit a fire and watched him. Half a day gone. Dead for five days. He didn't look five days gone. Her skin prickled anxiously.

A Draeden funeral, Edon had told her. They circled him and sang. Sang for two straight days, such was the grief. Candor would have burned him. Trinity was glad they didn't. Fire wouldn't touch his skin. She was sure of it.

The moon rose, filling the sky with its milky light. She sat still by the fire. Was that a twitch in his arm?

Arcos pulled back, frightened. He saw it too. Soon the leg twitched too. It was over an hour of these sporadic twitches but once they picked up speed, they cascaded upon themselves, wracking his body violently. Vomit dribbled from the corner of his mouth. A small cough.

Trinity leaned forward as the movements calmed. His eyes fluttered open. He coughed louder. Drew out the stomach contents blocking his throat. His body commanded breath.

Resistant to magic.

And immortal.

His eyes clouded with confusion. He moved slowly, sickly. They focused on the two figures huddled by the fire. One set of eyes looked terrified. The other set watched him curiously.

"Who are you?" The voice scratched deeply from his throat.

Trinity answered. "We are mages. Here to help you. You had a terrible wound. You will recover."

"How was I hurt?"

Trinity smiled. It was like her own awakening. In a cabin on the floor, covered in blood. Her shift was torn, exposing her womanhood to the cool, winter air. A man not far from her, large belly and a gashed neck with flies buzzing around the wound. She'd had no recollection of the events that caused the scene in the cabin. She'd had no recollection of anything before that moment.

He had the same searching in his eyes. He tried. He knew there was something before this moment. But his mind couldn't conjure up what it could be. It never would. She didn’t tell him that. Instead, she held out your hand.

"I can see you're afraid. Fear not. I will take care of you."

It was the only comfort he had. He took it. He took her hand. And tried not to fear.

"Where are we going?" his voice was stronger now. Recovering. He would always recover quickly from now on. Death could no longer touch him.

"To a land hidden by mountains and snow. All who lay eyes on it see cold and death and ice. Once inside, you will find it's bursting with life and bloom and sun." Trinity smiled. "You are going to the White Forest. You are going home."