The Forgotten King (Korin's Journal) (52 page)

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat.  “Yes.”

“We will return to the eastern border of this town at sunrise.  Make any preparations you must before then.  If we are met with animosity upon our return, we will depart without you, no matter the debt owed.”  Rhyxis let out another roar, this one much kinder on the ears, and lifted into the air with beating wings.  The other dragons followed suit, the resulting blasts of wind nearly knocking me to the ground.  Many of those nearby weren’t as lucky and were sent sprawling into the snow.

The dragons quickly became nothing more than specks in the gloom above.  Still, my eyes followed their presence through the gray sky as I tried to take in what had just happened.  Others in the area near us stared upwards as well.  I just hoped they had no intentions of attacking the dragons the next day.

Max’s voice cut through my trance.  “If we set up a strong perimeter, we can stay in Terafall tonight.  Maybe we can even get a decent meal and a warm bed for our final night before confronting our destiny.”

“Listen to you,” I responded with the barest hint of a smile. 
“Talking about destiny as if you believe in it.”

“Korin, destiny may be the only thing that can keep you alive through this,” Max countered gravely. 

“And you can’t die, Korin,” Til’ pleaded.  His head dropped, his long raven hair draping over his face.  “What would I do without you?  You, Max, and Sal’ are all I really have.”  Silver eyes rose to meet mine, shining with conviction.  “As long as there is breath in my body, I will fight for you and keep you safe, Korin.”

I mussed Til’s hair reflexively yet again.  His words were much deeper than I was used to from him.  My fears and worries ebbed as I gave him a genuine smile. 

“Thank you, Til’.”

Max snorted.  “If you two are through with bonding, we need to start planning for tomorrow, as well as get some food—a lot of it—and some rest.”

With a dry chuckle, I replied, “Rizear himself couldn’t keep you from that.  Let’s find Sal’ and Ithan and start our preparations.”

Ithan chose that moment to cut through a larger group of troops, jogging to meet up with us.  Briscott joined us as well, brushing snow from the seat of his pants.

Ithan stopped before me, his worn gaze dropping to my shoulder.  “Max, I believe word has been spread to all of the leaders.  Now, assuming that the information will trickle down through the ranks, everyone within these walls should have knowledge of the dragons and their intentions within the hour.  If anyone attacks the dragons, it will be against orders.”  His eyes scanned the sky.  “Though now that they are gone, does it even matter?”

“They’ll be back in the morning,” I said.

“Good.  I was hoping to meet them after all you told me of Bhaliel.”

“Oh, you will meet them, all right,” Max chuckled.

Ithan tilted his head.

Til’ stepped forward, puffed out his chest, and began speaking before I could say a word about it.  “Rhyxis, Tharax, Ghalien, Rhal, and Alyshine will be flying us to Bherin in the morning,” Til’ explained in one breath.  Excitement was clear in his large eyes.  “Just wait until you’re up in the air.  It’s incredible!  Of course, we’ll need more rope.”

Ithan’s face blanched.  “We are going to be riding dragons?  As in
flying
?”  He swallowed loudly. 

“Blighted hell and ashes,” Briscott added.

I laughed but cut short as I noticed a satchel hanging heavily at Ithan’s side.  “Ithan.  Fleet . . .”

Ithan glanced down at the cloth satchel and patted it gently.  “It is okay,” he assured me with a slight tremble of his lower lip.  “Her life helped save others.  I will miss my old friend, but I also have new ones to help ease the sting of her and my family’s passing.”

I grasped his shoulder.  “Ithan, your family—”

Ithan held up a hand.  “After seeing this . . . I just can’t convince myself otherwise.  Hope will simply blind my actions.”  His voice cracked, and I could tell he was about to lose it.  I threw my arms around him, prompting Max to leap to the ground to keep from falling off my shoulder.  Til’ stepped forward and placed a hand on Ithan’s back as the wizard sobbed into my shoulder.

I felt an arm grasp around my waist and turned my head to see Sal’ watching Ithan with despondent eyes.  She placed her other hand on his arm as we all stood in silence. 

Ithan eventually stood, wiping his eyes.  “Salmaea?” he gasped.

“I am so sorry, Ithan.  I truly am.”  Sal’ embraced him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  “Thank you for all you have done for Korin, Max, and Til’.”

Ithan chewed on his lower lip as he nodded.

“And me as well,” Briscott put in.  “Remember that we’re all here for you.  Loranis willing, we will put an end to all of this, and no one else will have to suffer as we have, friend.”

“Thank you,” Ithan replied, exhaling through pursed lips, his breath a vapor before him. 

“Can I help you put Fleet to rest?” Til’ asked.

“I would like that, Til’,” Ithan responded with a half smile.  Til’ beamed up at him.

I hated to interrupt the moment, but time was wasting.  “We leave at sunrise.  The dragons will meet us outside the eastern edge of town.  Til’, Rhyxis said they will take those you named.  Does that include all of us?”

“Yeah, all six of us.”
  Til’ started ticking off fingers.  “Me, you, Sal’, Max, Briscott, and Ithan.  I didn’t know we would be all they’d take.  I was just telling him about everyone I was hoping to find once we located Briscott through the Tracking Stone.  The only reason he didn’t bring more dragons was because the others I met, even those loyal to him, refused to help, whether Rizear was involved or not.  They kind of hold a grudge against everyone on the other side of the barrier.  Oh, also—”

“That’s all I need, Til’,” I interrupted.  “Do any of you want to turn back now?”  I was met by shaking heads.  “Then tomorrow morning, we leave for Bherin.  Take these hours to rest and prepare yourselves.”

Ithan knelt down on one knee before Til’.  “Til’, do you have the abelyr box the Tracking Stone was in?”

Til’ nodded energetically, reaching into a large pouch hanging from his hip.  With a bit of finagling, he produced the abelyr box with a proud smile.  “Yeah, and it worked just as you said it would!  I didn’t open it any more than necessary, and we made it all the way here.” 

Ithan smiled, but his eyes were still lined with pain.  He took the black box from Til’ and removed the Tracking Stone.  He reached into his own bag, retrieved one of the green rocks, and dropped it into the abelyr box before sealing it shut once again.

Memory of the attack on Jefren’s camp immediately filled my mind.  “Ithan, I told you that the rocks can be tracked.  It’s not safe to keep one.”

Ithan stood and patted the lid of the box.  “It cannot be tracked while in here,” he insisted.  “The abelyr will nullify the Link as long as the rock is sealed within the box.  Those fighting for Gualain have been meticulous in retrieving any of these rocks left behind.  Somehow, this one was missed.  We must take advantage of their oversight.  This rock may come in handy later.”

“He is right,” Max pitched in, climbing back up to my shoulder.  He shook each of his paws individually to rid them of snow.  “If nothing else, this will prevent another from suffering from its magic.”

“General Salmaea,” a voice called from behind us, interrupting our conversation.  We turned to see a member of Sal’s Wizard Guard squadron running towards us.  He stopped breathlessly an arm’s length from Sal’ and brought a fist to his chest.  I recognized him as Cawler, the wizard who’d given her report back at the house.

“Cawler, Julus is your General now,” Sal’ chided.  “I’ll be helping him organize the squadron’s next moves tonight, but you should be reporting to him.”

“I am sorry, Gen . . . Salmaea, but we have captured one of the enemy soldiers.  He is awaiting questioning.  Capt . . . General Julus thought you would want to lead the questioning.”

“Take me to him,” Sal’ commanded, sliding her arm from around me.

“Yes, Gen . . . right away, Salmaea.  He has not spoken to us yet, but he wears strange armor.  It is painted red with a gold tree inlaid across the breastplate.  I have never seen its like.”

The world went silent, and my vision went white for a brief moment.  “Max and I are coming with you,” I insisted. 

Sal’s men had captured a member of my father’s army.

Chapter 46

Turn the Paigean

Cawler led Sal’, Max, and me through Terafall, taking us past milling troops and huddled survivors.  Teams had already formed to clear the dead from the streets, but they hadn’t made enough progress to allow us a clear path.  There’s something indescribably morbid about having to watch your step to avoid tripping over mutilated, rotted, or charred bodies.  Add the scents that go along with that and . . . let me just say that I could already tell that the memory of the aftermath would likely fill my nightmares until my death.

“Let me get this straight.  The man they captured is from a different world?” Sal’ inquired as we walked.

“Or more realistically, a land beyond the storms,” Max corrected after making sure Cawler remained out of earshot ahead of us.

“But that’s not—”

“We’ve got a lot to fill you in on,” I cut in absently.  My thoughts were distracted by our upcoming meeting with the soldier from my father’s own army.  Well, that and the exposed portion of Sal’s chest through her ripped tabard.  The slight grin and roll of Sal’s eyes indicated that she’d noticed.

Cawler stopped and turned, waiting for us to catch up.  “They are keeping the soldier detained just ahead,” he announced with a gesture towards a small house.  It was one of only a handful of structures that had been spared from the war.  The houses on either side of it had been reduced to smoldering, charred remains.

Sal’ kept up with Cawler as we started forward again.  “What has Julus been able to uncover?” 

“We have only tried to obtain his name and allegiance, but he has remained silent.  We . . . were awaiting your arrival before questioning him further, Gener . . . Salmaea,” Cawler answered cautiously, his gaze averted.

Sal’s fingers went to her temples and began rubbing in circular motions.  “Cawler, for the last time, Julus is in charge now.  Not me.  Okay?”

“It is just . . . it is just that it has been such an honor for all of us to serve under you.  Because of you, we were able to save so many.” 

Sal’s expression darkened.  “Not without significant losses, Cawler.  Tomorrow, I’ll no longer be with you.  The odds will be against me, against us.”  Sal’ looked at me sadly before turning her attention back to Cawler.  “Julus has his orders to keep the squadron moving towards Bherin.  The Wizard Guard must help bring the other armies together and take this battle to its source.  If we can’t head the war off, all of Amirand could be at risk.  We can’t let that happen. 

“I have complete faith in Julus, in all of you.  I couldn’t have asked for better men fighting at my side.  If my actions in Bherin end in failure, I know that there is still a chance of ending this war and saving Amirand lying with you.” 

Cawler paused just outside the door to the house and turned to face Sal’.  His fist went to his heart.  “We will do our best to make you proud—even if that means defying the Grand Wizard.”

Sal’ put a hand to her chest.  “Cawler, the blame for going against his orders lies solely with me.  It will not fall back on any of you.  When this war ends and my father learns of your part in it, you will be honored as heroes.”

“Even if you are wrong,” Cawler’s fist clenched tighter, “I would not have done anything different.”

Sal’ gave Cawler a smile, weary yet sincere. 

“Korin,” Max prompted in a whisper from my shoulder, pulling my attention from Sal’s conversation with Cawler.  I dropped back a couple of paces.  Although Sal’ would’ve never allowed Max to be taken back to the Academy, Max was still reluctant to reveal his true nature around any wizards we didn’t know. 

“That was the third time I called your name,” Max continued.  “I suppose I can wait a bit longer if you wish to continue ogling Salmaea’s body, however.” 

Max’s tone was so thick with sarcasm that I could’ve wrapped it around me like a blanket.  If he hadn’t been right about where my visual attention had been, I would’ve shot a witty retort right back at him.  Aside from Ulys and Isilla back in Auslin, and Kait’, I hadn’t been around many women in a long while.  Especially ones so beautiful, so shapely, so . . . I think I’ve made my point.

“Sorry, Max.”

“As well you should be,” he replied with a huff.  “Listen, I just want to know if you are going to be okay with this.”

Through my exhaustion, I couldn’t figure out what Max meant.  “What do you mean?”

Max gave me one of his “are you really that stupid?” looks.  “The man we are about to question is not only from Paigea, but also potentially from your father’s army.  The information he gives us may not be what you want to hear.”

“Max, I think I’ve gotten plenty used to hearing things I don’t want to hear over the past few months.  I can handle whatever he has to say.”  It was a lie, and the arch of what I’d consider to be Max’s eyebrow indicated he wasn’t fooled. 

In truth, I felt like spiders were crawling across the inside of my stomach and lungs.  I was terrified of what the captured troop would reveal.  However, the information he held could mean the difference between ending the war
or losing it.  Plus, if he revealed that my father was behind everything, better to find out now than by discovering firsthand in Bherin.

“You are a horrible liar,” Max chided.  “But if you are ready . . .
”  Max flicked his head towards the house.  Sal’ and Cawler were standing there, staring at us.

Cawler turned to Sal’ and spoke something into her ear, his hand hiding his mouth.  Sal’s full lips curved upwards.  “No, Korin’s not a wizard.”  She rotated a finger beside her temple and gestured to me with a nod of her head.  “He does like to have conversations with squirrels, though.”  She spoke loud enough for me to hear,
her  eyes shining with amusement.

“I’m surrounded by smartasses,” I muttered, starting for the house.

Sal’s attention went back to Cawler.  “Cawler, keep watch out here.  Korin and I will be questioning this man alone.”

“Yes, General,” Cawler returned, bringing his fist to his heart and keeping his bemused eyes on me.  I’m sure he was wondering who I was to be accompanying Sal’ to question the enemy soldier.  He probably wondered why I talked to squirrels as well. 

Sal’ sighed at Cawler’s continued use of the title and pushed her way into the house.  I mock whispered to Max while pointing at Cawler as I passed, just to mess with him.  My world was crumbling around me, so I figured I might as well have some fun.  The look on his face made it completely worth it.

The house was comprised of a single room, little more than a kitchen area with a bed in one back corner and a stone hearth in the other.  Within the hearth, a fire burned weakly, complementing the weak light filtering through the shuttered windows.  Though dimly lit, I could see that the house was tidy and clean, the bed made and the shelves and cabinets organized.  It was a far cry from the desolation outside.

The Paigean soldier was seated in a simple wooden chair in the center of the room.  His hands were tied behind the chair’s back and his feet to its legs.  Two men in blue and black tabards stood just to his side.  Upon our entry, the wizards turned and raised fists to their chests.  One was older with graying hair and knowledgeable eyes.  The other was probably my age, but the dark circles under his eyes and the creases at their corners gave him the illusion of being at least a decade older.  Seeing his wild brown hair and stubbled face, I wondered if I looked any better.

The stout Paigean soldier stared blankly in our direction, as if looking through us.  He was dressed as Cawler had reported: red-painted armor with a golden tree inlaid in the center of his chest.  His face was devoid of expression, his lips pressed together tightly.  His dark hair was pulled back, the tail folded over
itself twice and tied.  His sword lay sheathed on a table behind him.  It was hard to believe he wasn’t from Amirand; his appearance was so . . . normal.

“Julus,” Sal’ admonished towards the older man with a shake of her head, “I’m no longer your General.”

“Sorry, old habits and all that,” he responded, dropping his fist with a weary half grin.  “Despite the shift in authority, I felt that we should await your arrival to begin questioning.”

“I’m actually happy you did,” Sal’ assured him.  “We would like to interrogate this man ourselves.”

“Who is this?”  Julus lifted his arm towards me.

“This is Korin
Karell, someone who I believe may have better luck in wrenching information from this man than we.”  

“Are you sure about that?” Julus returned, sticking two fingers into a pouch at his side.  He brought his other hand up, displaying a crackling blue aura surrounding it in plain view of the Paigean soldier.  The soldier closed his eyes but showed no emotion otherwise.

Sal’ reached forward and grabbed Julus’s arm.  “Julus, you know that’s not how this is to be done. 
Yet
.”  The captured soldier’s cheek twitched.  “Would you allow Korin and me some time alone with him?  If we are unable to get the information we seek, then we’ll leave him to your methods.”  Another twitch.

With a wary look in my direction, Julus asked, “Are you sure that is wise?”

Sal’ shrugged.  “I don’t know,
General
.  What do
you
think?”

Julus removed his hand from his pouch and rubbed his chin.  “I think that I completely trust your judgment.  If you believe that you and—Korin, is it?—can get what we need, then so be it.  I will round up a few of our squadron to help me tear some information out of this bastard, in case you are unable.  I am sure that they would love the chance to return the hospitality shown by this man and his fellow soldiers.” 

The Paigean soldier cringed, his face bloodless; he probably knew good and well that being faced with people who’d been so affected by the death and destruction he’d been a part of would not turn out well for him. 

In theory, the threat in Julus’s words would make the process of getting information from the soldier easier.  I think they call such a method of interrogation “good constable, bad constable,” or something like that.  More like “good wizard, bad wizard” in this case.

Sal’ put her fist to her chest, right above her left breast, as Julus and the younger wizard left the house, closing the door behind them.  The room was completely silent.  Not even the noises from outside reached us.  I wondered if it had been spelled to block out sound.

Sal’ stepped over to the hearth, sliding a hand into her wicker case.  “You can open your eyes,” she told the soldier softly.  There was no sense of exhaustion in her voice now.  “We’re not going to hurt you.” 

The man’s eyes eased open and focused on Sal’. 

“Not yet,” she amended with a grim rasp, the fire in the hearth suddenly flaring brightly.  The soldier flinched away from the flames.  I, on the other hand, almost sighed with pleasure at the heat that suddenly filled the room. 

“Now, my friends have some questions for you,” Sal’ told the soldier as she gestured to me.  “You
will
answer their questions, or I will bring General Julus back in.”  Sal’ crossed the room, grabbed the man’s hair, and harshly yanked his head back, drawing a squeak from his throat.  She leaned her face over his, leaving just a finger’s length between their noses.  The flickering firelight gave her face a sinister glow.  “And trust me, you do
not
want that.” 

Her tone brought me back to the first days I’d known her, when she could go from cheerful to acidic in the blink of an eye.  She’d come a long way since then. 

Sal’ gave the man’s hair a sharp jerk upwards to raise his head.  “He’s all yours.” 

Stepping back, Sal’ held out a hand, palm up.  Above it, a small sphere of flame formed.  She started rotating her wrist, the flame remaining just inches above her palm no matter how she turned it.  The soldier’s breathing quickened as he watched the flame.  Sal’ simply smiled.  She left no doubt that the ball of flame was under her control.  It could follow her hands or melt the soldier’s face, all according to her will. 

I approached the soldier, feeling quite
un
intimidating.  With my hand resting on my sword’s hilt, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice, I attempted to inject the same deadly grace into my stride as I remembered Bill having displayed so effortlessly.  Still, I couldn’t help but feel that I merely looked like a scrawny youth enveloped in a too-large cloak, miserably failing at growing a real beard.  I blame Sal’s threatening display of magic for my feelings of inadequacy.

The soldier didn’t even deign to look at me; his eyes remained locked on the ball of flame weaving through the air over Sal’s hand.  His lack of attention on me made my menacing scowl a waste.

I shot a hand past the soldier’s face and grabbed the back of his chair.  I tilted the chair back, prompting the soldier to jerk his legs and shoulders as he reflexively attempted to prevent himself from falling backwards.  He finally looked at me, and I gave him an appropriately ominous glare in reply. 

“You’re going to answer my questions, right?” I asked, using my other hand to begin drawing my sword.  The soldier’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing into a thin line.  I replied by fully unsheathing my sword and pressing the tip to the hollow of his throat.