Severed Empire: Wizard's War (19 page)

It might take time filling the void. Though his grandfather raised and reared, his emotions were raw.

“Take a walk with me,” Blodwyn said.

Mykal spun around. The governor was walking away. “Where to?”

“We need to see an old friend of mine.”

“More old friends?” Mykal said.

“This man, Refler—”

“Refler?”

“He was once a knight.”

“For Nabal? And like the Archers, he deserted?”

“The Archers didn’t desert. Not the way you are thinking. They took a stand against what they thought was wrong, and Nabal fought them on it. You should ask your uncle about how hard it was for him to decide to separate from Grey Ashland,” Blodwyn said. “But my friend, Refler, he was not a knight for King Nabal.”

“He wasn’t? But then—”

Blodwyn smiled. “Refler protected the Cordillera Castle. He knows the ins and outs, if you follow what I’m saying.”

“I do.”

“There are hidden entrances to the castle. The mountains they sit on are filled with caves and catacombs. Many of the passages are heavily guarded. There are some other ways into the castle, however, that are not. It would be impossible for us to find them on our own. Near impossible, anyway. But with Refler…”

They walked along the cobblestone path. Mykal stayed silent. Too many times he’d spoken his thoughts without thinking through the backlash of his words. “I’m sorry I keep saying such idiotic things, like about the Archers being deserters.”

“That’s not your fault. Those lessons were taught to you and drilled into your head. It’s what you might call propaganda. The king wants loyal subjects. If he told his people the truth about everything, I suspect he’d have some unhappy and downright hostile people in his kingdom,” Blodwyn said.

“He lies?”

“All of the time.”

***

King Hermon Cordillera received word from his majordomo that the queen had expired. That was the term the majordomo used. Expired. Annoyed that the news was delivered simultaneously as his morning meal, he ordered the children to stay and eat their breakfast as he accompanied the majordomo to the queen’s chambers.

“Are you sure she’s dead?” Cordillera asked, as they entered the dark room.

The majordomo crossed the floor and pulled open the curtains. The sunlight spilled into the room like poured wine filling a chalice. The oblong object on the bed glistened, and the king looked beyond and around for signs of his wife. “Has she up and left? Is this some kind of a joke?”

“No, sire. The chambermaid found her just moments ago,” the majordomo said, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He pointed at the bed, and moved his hand from the headboard to the footboard in a smooth gesture.

It took a moment longer before King Cordillera understood what he was looking at sprawled atop the bed. “This… Is this—what happened?”

“The body should be burned, sooner rather than later.”

The king spun around, and cringed. “Ida,” he said.

Ida walked into the bedchamber. She walked the length of the walls, skirting furniture, her eyes scanning the dusty corners, and baseboards. “The castle may have an infestation.”

The majordomo said, “An infestation of what? What kind of creature can do this?”

“It’s the Golden Orb Weaver.” Ida stated this in a matter-of-fact tone that annoyed the king. “They’re rare in these parts. Vicious. I am certain I can concoct a repellent. In the meantime, you will want to remove the queen from the bedchamber. It is almost certain the spiders are still inside her shell. Should any escape, be mindful of her anus, you want to be sure to crush the spider under your heel. You don’t want them finding shelter in darkened cracks and creases inside the castle. Their lifespan is short, but they reproduce often.”

The bedchamber was silent.

Ida stopped walking. She stood at the foot of the bed.

“The anus?” the majordomo said.

“The spiders are inside the corpse. All but one of her orifices is covered in webbing. There is only one way in or out of the cavity at this point,” Ida said.

The king shuddered as he snapped his fingers. “You heard her. Remove the body. Set it on a pyre immediately. If one of those orbed spiders escapes her arse, I will personally feed the eight-legged freak into your mouth. Are we clear?”

“Of course, sire. Right away,” the majordomo said.

“Ida,” Cordillera said. “Come with me.”

Once in the hallway, walking swiftly away from the bedchamber, King Cordillera whispered, “This was your doing?”

“But of course,” she said.

She was a crafty witch. The king knew he needed always to remember this. It might become too easy to underestimate not only her talent, but her shrewdness. The woman was despicable, and yet he envied her cold, heartless ways.

“I’ve more news,” she said.

“Good?” the king said.

“I’ve come up with a way to siphon the information we need from the sorceress.” Ida spoke slowly. She enunciated each word just perfectly. Her voice was similar to wood crackling on a fire. “The woman is broken. Her spirit is nearly deceased. Her mind is fragile. I have been worrying that if she endures much more she will never be able to assist us with the plan.”

“She is not so broken that she willingly gives instructions on summoning the other three wizards,” he said.

“Ah, but she is broken just enough that I can slip into her mind. I can play inside her thoughts and dreams. She will notice me as nothing more than a shadow.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am certain that attempts to break her any further will produce irreversible damages. I’ve already toyed at the outskirts of her memories. Her defensive wall is thin, and weak in spots. This woman may have magic, but she is not strong. She has power, but hers is very limited. She has managed to survive all of these years, but she is not stable, nor has she ever been. What I see when I peek through her veil is insecurity, and guilt. She is gut full of guilt.”

The king caught a whiff of stench emitting either from off of the witch’s clothing, or her person, or her breadth. Regardless, the odor was offensive, and assaulted his nostrils. When Ida became excited she invaded his space, and spoke close to his face. Even though he switched to breathing through his mouth, he thought particles of her filth landed on his tongue. His face soured as he tasted her dirt. “Retrieve the talismans from your tower and meet me in the dungeon.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Chapter 16

The boat sat ready and waiting. It bobbed on the small, but steady waves. The dock was on the north east side of the island. The vessel looked unique, and sat low in the water; the stern and bow were carved identically to each other. Mykal was confused as to front and back. Wood planks overlapped, and were fastened together with rivets. There was a single mast dead center in the ship, but the sail was folded away. The ship was very long and slender and could easily accommodate the eight of them inside of it. Eight oars ran through holes on the sides the ship, four on the starboard, and four on the port. The sea was not so calm. With the setting sun, the winds had picked up. White caps were visible on the water. Hopefully the swells would be minimal, but Mykal wasn’t holding his breath.

Their weapons were loaded onto the ship, secured to the mast, and under a canvas. Looked like they’d all be rowing. Mykal wished he’d spent just a little time during the day sleeping. His mind was far too full for rest. He’d have wasted hours tossing and turning. Instead he’d enjoyed time with his parents, and in exploring the island. He’d been amazed at the different items for sale in their marketplace. Everything seemed so rare and exotic. He’d never seen woven quilts with such unique patterns and arrays of color. The food was different, as well. He’d tried a hard white fruit known as coconut, and a red one called watermelon. He’d eaten the wings of chicken cooked crisp and coated in a buttery hot sauce, as well as a cylindrical red meat known as a dog, but was not made out from canine carcass. He knew one thing for certain, if they won the war against the Mountain King, and life went back to something closer to normal, he’d talk with the governor about permission to visit the islands every once in a while. Only now all the activities of the day took their toll, and his eyes felt a little heavy. He fought back a yawn.

Basin and Refler sat side by side in the back of the boat, oars resting on their laps.

“Fill in, and sit down,” Refler said. He had a horseshoe of hair around his dome. His face, unshaven for at least the last several days, was layered with chins. “One oar, for each of us. Many hands will lighten the load. I prefer not to fly the sail. If what I’ve been hearing about a war headed our way is true, I’m suspecting stealth is what we’re hoping to accomplish?”

Basin nodded a hello at Mykal, tipping the brim of his cap respectfully. The man’s hair was long, and loose. He didn’t wear it pulled back, but let it flow over his shoulders. It had waves to it like the water they sat upon. He was dressed in dark clothing that would let him blend in with the mountains and the darkness. “Is everyone about ready? We’re going to want to take advantage of the night as much as we can. Once we are under the castle, it won’t matter as much. It’s just that getting there, to the caves, will not be simple.”

“We appreciate you taking us back to the realm,” Blodwyn said, and took a seat in front of Basin. “I understand the risk you are taking.”

“It’ll be my head if I’m caught,” Basin said. “But the risk, as you put it, is worth it, I think. The Mountain King was evil long before tonight. His aspirations have always been bigger than his abilities. A royal bloodline doesn’t make one fit to rule, let me tell you that right now. There has got to be another way for the people to choose leaders.”

Mykal sat beside Blodwyn. “Other than by birthright?” Mykal said.

“Aye,” Basin said. “In some lands we’ve visited, the people chose the ruler every few years. Almost like taking turns. They call it voting.”

“I know what voting is,” Mykal said, and snickered.

“Aye, but in this land every person is allowed to cast a ballot for who they want to rule. It’s not like an entire kingdom can rule. First they select around ten people as potential kings, and then they narrow it down to just two opponents. At that point, everyone gets one vote for who they want. It’s obscure for sure, but works for them.”

“They don’t have to joust, or something?” Mykal laughed, shaking his head. “Voting. I don’t see how something as antiquated could ever work. You mean the people choose their leader? Could you see King Nabal giving up his castle after only a few years?”

Basin shrugged. “And yet it works for these other nations.”

“Nations?” Mykal said.

“Empires,” Basin said.

Anna and Eadric sat in front of Blodwyn and Mykal, and Quill and Coil took the seats at the bow.

“If you’ve never rowed a boat before,” Refler said, “you are about to learn. It is not complicated, but it does take a little coordination.”

Refler gave everyone fast instructions on what he expected. Mykal thought the most challenging part was making sure the blade stayed perpendicular to the water. They backed the vessel out of its slip. Mykal felt a turning of his stomach. He placed a hand over his belly, hoping that might calm the sensation. It didn’t. The tiny waves came in fast. The boat bobbed up and down. As much as he hoped to visit the islands again, he knew he’d have to develop some kind of tolerance for sailing.

They worked with the current. The wind worked against them. The moon, if in the sky at all, was hidden behind a blanket of clouds. No light from the sky aided their voyage. They rowed in nothing but solid darkness.

Things splashed in the water.

“Just keep rowing,” Refler said. “Ignore the water. Keep your hands inside the boat. You’ll be all right, you will.”

“I don’t like this,” Coil said.

Mykal felt somewhat relieved he wasn’t the only one worried about the sea serpents. It didn’t settle his mind at all. The darkness was like a mirror of his mind when sleeping. He was easily able to project images from his imagination onto the backdrop. In his mind’s eye he saw himself drowning in the sea, and a giant serpent spiraling its way up from the abyss toward him, dangerously sharp dorsal fins cutting through the water, as rows of nasty teeth anxiously gnashed at his heels in anticipation of devouring him in a single chomp.

“It sounds like there are hundreds of them below us,” Quill said. He looked like he might be standing up. It was difficult knowing for sure. Mykal thought the darkness also contained shadows. The shadows either moved, or stayed still. It was nearly impossible to tell.

Mykal shook his head and cleared out unwanted memories. He’d survived that attack, barely, but he
was
alive. He was not going to let his fear of serpents prevent him from moving forward, or maybe keep him from learning to love sailing.

The splashing in the water became more violent.

“We’ll be okay,” Anna said.

Mykal knew it was childish, but wished he’d sat next to his parents. The words didn’t eliminate his fear, but they did provide some comfort.

Mykal concentrated on his rowing.

“Keep in time with the others,” Refler said, immediately correcting Mykal’s action. “It’s a rhythm. A beat.”

Mykal stared out over the black water. He thought he saw shadows of serpents leaping up out of the water. “There are too many of them,” he said.

“We’ve got this, Mykal,” Eadric said. “Those things can’t defeat us!”

Brave words. Although his father was wrong, he sounded courageous. If the monsters from under the sea capsized the boat, even magic might not be enough to protect everyone. The sea serpents were deadly.

“Row the boat, boy. Just row the boat,” Refler said. “And one. And two. And one. And two.”

Something swam into them. It sounded like they grounded the hull on rocks. The boat shook. Mykal thought they would tip. He let go of his oar and gripped the side of the vessel. “I can stop them,” he said. He could move them away, or send them after some other unsuspecting target. The options were limitless. “I can make them go away.”