Trial and Glory (53 page)

Kaz tried to smile, but the expression rang false. “A long story.”

Jober laughed, embracing his friend. “I thought you were dead. I . . .” He pulled away. “I—”

Kaz raised a hand. “I’ve already talked to Hielle about what she learned from you and Lucia. I understand. You did what you had to for your family because you didn’t feel like you had any other option. And you protected Lucia while I was gone.” His voice cracked at his wife’s name. “For that, I’m grateful.”

“But you don’t understand. I should have tried to stop Nachun once I saw it was you.”

“No, you would have died. Things would have been worse for me.” He paused. “Do you remember the last thing you told me before I disappeared?”

“Forgive me, Kaz,” Jober whispered.

“Those words did more for me than you’ll ever know. They gave me a starting point as I tried to piece my life back together. Who knows where I would be without them.”

“Perhaps Lucia will . . .” he stopped himself. He wanted to say that maybe Lucia would forgive him for what he had done. But then he recalled Lucia’s condition and her mistake with Tobin. “Lucia and Tobin . . .”

“I know,” Kaz said solemnly.

“Please, don’t hold it against her. I promise you that she never stopped thinking about you. She always loved you.”

Kaz hung his head. “I know she did.”

Jober breathed a sigh of relief.

Then everything has worked out.

“You’ll have to fill me in on your adventures,” Jober said, trying to change subjects.

“Later.” Kaz rubbed his eyes. “What do you say we get out of here first? It’s been a long night.” He gestured to the makeshift noose. “For both of us.”

* * *

Mawkuk’s army had been routed and decimated by the returning Kifzo forces. Captured and taken prisoner along with his surviving captains by some pale-skinned, black-robed mage, he had not expected to live through the first day.

Two later, air still passed through his lips. Food waited for him at dawn, midday, and dusk. He slept not on a hard floor in some dank cell, but rather on a soft bed in a guarded room of the palace. He knew he had failed in seeking retribution for his children. However, he lived like a victor.

None of it made sense to him.

Mawkuk peered out the window, overlooking the city. The beauty of it surprised him. If he had won, the thing would be a smoldering mess of blackness, not the shining wonder captured by the sun’s rays. A small part of him was glad that he had not been successful in his goal, lest he destroy a marvel unlike anything he had ever seen.

Guilt twisted in his gut. Such thoughts seemed like betrayal of his children.

A knock sounded. He swung his head about. “Yes?”

The door opened. In strode a man he’d only met once before. Kaz no longer wore the ghastly armor that so frightened his men. He hadn’t seen it himself, but the stories filled his nightmares all the same.

The returned warleader chose to adorn himself in boiled leather, dyed in blue. The only weapons visible were a pair of throwing axes at his waist.

“I’m not intruding, am I?” asked Kaz.

“No,” said Mawkuk in surprise. “This is your home after all.”

Kaz grunted and closed the door. He gestured to a pair of chairs away from the window. The Kifzo surprisingly urged Mawkuk to sit first.

Mawkuk complied, studying the warleader as he rubbed tired eyes. The expression he wore reminded him of how he felt when Odala had been a baby. The girl had refused to sleep unless rocked by him or her mother. A part of him wondered how he ever made it through those first few months. He bit his lip, trying to dismiss the thoughts, lest he lose his composure.

Kaz cleared his throat. “I understand you lost both of your children.”

“Yes.”
Is he reading my thoughts?

“I did not know them, but you have my condolences. I know there are conflicting rumors from both clans regarding the circumstances of their deaths, but I’m sure which story is right means little in your eyes. They were still your children.”

Mawkuk nodded, studying Kaz. The man seemed different from the person he met years ago.

Kaz continued. “Tobin is dead. I don’t expect you to offer your condolences. However, I thought you should know.”

Mawkuk grunted, trying to guard his words, unsure where the conversation might go.

“My question is this. Is Tobin’s death enough for you?”

“Enough? What do you mean?”

“I’ve spoken to several of your captains. They all believe that revenge for Odala and Soyjid is what drove you to attack Juanoq. You’ve succeeded in killing many of my warriors while also causing considerable damage to the city and its citizens. During the fighting, Tobin died. Is his death enough to satisfy your revenge?”

“I don’t know how to answer that.”

Kaz rubbed his eyes again. “The last few days have been a blur for me. I find myself going through the motions of trying to pick up the pieces of this mess while grieving the death of a brother I hated most of my life and a wife I never thought I would live without.”

Mawkuk said nothing, more confused than ever.

Kaz sighed. “My point is this. A part of me wishes to kill you here and now. No one would disagree with my decision and many neutral parties have tried to persuade me that it’s the wisest course of action. I’m inclined to disagree. I doubt you’ll believe me, at least not yet, but I’m trying to right the wrongs of my past . . . and the pasts of Tobin and my father. I want you to be part of the future.”

Mawkuk blinked. “What?”

“I respect you. Until my father made you the offer to become allies, the Gray Clan had been an exception among the clans in that your people never looked to expand borders and avoided war where possible. Other than this act of revenge, isn’t that so?”

He nodded.

“I have an idea, one that I will have to get affirmed by the Blue Island Clan’s new leader, but—”

“Did you say a new leader?”

“Yes, but that’s for a different discussion. Anyway, there is someone I’d like you to meet. A scholar named Mizak. He accompanied Nachun during his trip to Quarnoq. I know you’ve heard about the journey. The place exists and now we have the means to reach it, even repopulate it.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m offering Quarnoq to you and the Gray Marsh Clan.”

“So we don’t cause any more problems?”

“In part. But also, I hope that you’ll be an example to the rest of the clans. I’m giving you a place to live a peaceful life under better conditions than the marshes. From what Mizak says, the beauty of the lands in our people’s past is unmatched. Perhaps you can learn more of the secrets hidden there and help the rest of Hesh move forward into better times.” He began to chuckle. “My idea sounded good in my head, but saying it out loud I can see why you’re looking at me so skeptically. It is a farfetched dream, isn’t it?”

Yes, it is,
he thought. Yet, he felt excited at the prospect of giving his people a better life. Minutes before, he wouldn’t have trusted a single thing coming from one of the Blue Clan, much less Kaz. However, after seeing him, he felt it would be a mistake not to.

Tobin’s death will have to be enough.

“Most good dreams are,” he finally answered. “I’ll do it.”

* * *

Kaz lowered the small baby into his crib, grateful that the child finally slept. Rather than backing away, he stood for a moment, contemplating how much the child looked like his mother. Then he thought about whether Lucia and Tobin would approve with how he handled the child they created.

My son.

At first, he worried if he’d ever grow to love the child, knowing that he had not helped create the life. However, it surprised him just how quickly such thoughts faded. With each day that passed, he found it harder to imagine living without him.

I only wish I could share this time with you, Lucia.

A hand rested on his shoulder. He turned to Wiqua. The old man had finally begun to show his age. His efforts to save the child and prolong Lucia’s life had weakened him significantly. Days later, he still wore the effects.

“You made a wise decision,” he whispered. “You’re an excellent father.”

Kaz forced a smile. “Lucia would have been an even better mother.”

A faint knock sounded, causing his son to stir. Kaz quickly went to the door. He stepped outside, gesturing for silence.

Drake waited. “Sorry, but I needed to see you right away.”

“What is it?” asked Kaz.

“The rest of the army has returned. Itken sent scouts to greet them. They’ll be at the gates within the hour.”

* * *

“Is everyone ready on the walls?” asked Kaz.

Itken nodded. “Yes, Warleader.”

“Raker and his engineers?”

“Above the gates as you requested.”

“Good. Go to your post, but remember don’t do anything unless they show hostility toward us first.”

“Yes, Warleader.” Itken bowed and left.

“Is it really wise to be showing such force,” asked Drake.

“We’re not showing force. We’re just giving them something to think about. They’ve held Itken’s messengers and sent a demand to open the gates. I understand why. A lot has changed, and there’s no telling how Walor and Ufer will treat me once I meet with them.” He snorted. “A show of force would be giving Raker free reign. After all, they are in range, right?”

“I see your point,” said Drake. “What if they don’t like what you have to say?”

Kaz gestured to where Krytien stood. “That’s why he’s coming with me.”

* * *

The makeshift gates Raker and Drake cobbled together, opened for Kaz, Krytien, and Crusher to slip out of the city. They passed through Juanoq’s thick walls, crossing over the drawbridge and onto the cleared land around the moat.

Freshly turned graves and the remains of stone towers and wooden siege equipment lay strewn about the area before the thick jungles. Several hundred yards away, some fifteen thousand warriors, the remainder of the Blue Island Clan army waited, dressed in lines for battle.

The three walked toward two lone horsemen that had separated themselves from the army.

“They’re not exactly welcoming you with open arms,” said Krytien.

“I didn’t expect them to. I haven’t had a chance to prove myself to them.”

“So, why are we doing this again?” asked Crusher.

“Because I swore to those in the city that I would.”

“I’ve sworn a lot of things in my day. That doesn’t mean I did them all,” joked the Ghal.

“So have I. But not anymore. Lucia would never forgive me.”

“She’s gone, Kaz. And you’ve got a son to look after now.”

“Her death changes nothing. I can’t let my son stop me from holding myself accountable. Besides, if things look like they’re not going to work out, Krytien will get us out of here.”

The mage nodded.

“If Krytien’s your backup, why am I here?” asked the Ghal.

“Moral support.”

“I wish you would have told me that earlier. I ain’t doing a very good job.” The Ghal chuckled.

Kaz looked to Krytien.

“When we first met on Slum Isle, did you ever imagine you’d end up here?”

“One Above, no. I’m not sure where I thought I’d be, but walking a mythical continent toward a parlay with someone other than Jonrell leading the Hell Patrol never crossed my mind. Especially not you. I liked you as much back then as you did me.”

“That bad?” He paused. “I wish I knew what Jonrell truly saw in me. Without him, who knows where I’d be.”

“I remember him saying that he didn’t care what kind of man you were, only what kind of man you’d become.”

Kaz’s chest tightened. “He was a good man.”

“The best.”

“So, do you think he’d approve of who I am now?”

“I wouldn’t be walking beside you if I didn’t think so.”

A few moments later they stopped in front of the two horsemen. Before either had a chance to speak, Kaz kneeled with hands spread out at his sides. He bowed his head, heart pounding in his chest in anticipation. He took a deep breath.

“Walor, I give you Juanoq.”

A deafening silence took hold of the land as he awaited a response.

Epilogue

. . . Two years later.

The clear midday sky began to darken, turning from a bright blue to a dull gray and finally an ugly black. Newly appeared clouds swirled as wind tossed Elyse’s hair about.

Thousands watched the display of sorcery with both awe and fear. Bodies pressed tightly against each other in the streets. The more daring citizens took to the roofs to get a better view of the historic moment.

After all, it isn’t every day that one sees a High Mage perform.

Krytien stood in front of the castle’s gates with arms raised. Before him, resting on a large slab of pink and gray marble lay a plain, ivory cylinder.

Guards led by General Yanasi ensured everyone remained a safe distance away from both him and the scepter. The clouds overhead spun faster with each breath. Krytien’s dark-red robes flapped like loose sails in the whipping wind.

One Above, please let this work.

Red bolts of lightning flashed across the black sky. The bolts came together in the middle of the spinning clouds, descending as a giant beam toward the marble slab. A concussive blast of white light spilled outward, temporarily blinding Elyse. The ground shook, causing her to sway on her feet.

It took several minutes for her vision to clear.

After much rubbing, she met Krytien’s stare. The sky lightened. He nodded.

Elyse turned her attention to the gray marble. A black scorch mark stained the slab where fragments of the scepter lay scattered and smoking.

It’s done.

Elyse raised her hands to gather the attention of the crowd who murmured among themselves in confusion. She felt sorcery tickle her throat, lending volume to her voice. “Citizens of Cadonia, the scepter has been destroyed! Never again will we have to worry about its power falling into dishonest hands. We are truly at peace!”

The crowd erupted, shouting and clapping. Chants of “Queen Elyse” and a few of “High Mage Krytien” dominated their cheers.