The White Forest (Mages and Kingdoms Book 2) (9 page)

Amelie

They came out of
the run to the shoreline of the lake. It looked much like it did on the human side with the exception of the eternal snow. Rankor still drove his horse, taking the lead as he headed for the camp where Talon was held. He slowed as he neared it, allowing Simon and Amelie to draw up next to him.

“There were ten of them when we crossed the border,” he said. “At least four of them chased me. So I’m estimating six guards, maybe more if the ones that pursued me returned here.”

“I don’t like those numbers,” Simon muttered.

“Rankor is hurt,” Amelie said. He shot her a dark look to which she replied, “You’re breathing heavily now and that was after only thirty minutes on a horse.”

“It is true,” Rankor agreed, addressing Simon. “Compliments of your friend here. I won’t last long in a fight.” He nodded his head towards Simon’s steed. “The weaponry on your horse includes a bow and arrow. Give me that. I’ll do what I can at a range.”

Amelie felt no comfort at the thought of supplying Rankor with arrows. They could easily sink into her flesh or Simon’s depending on whenever he felt the truce’s benefits expired. But Simon was handing him the quiver and bows and she did not object. There wasn’t another option. The two of them could not take on that many men and that didn’t include whatever powers these soldiers possessed.

Amelie and Simon crept closer and spied them through the sparse line of trees. A small structure stood, stone stacked on stone to make crude walls, probably a base point for supplies for the guards. She didn’t see Talon and figured he must be inside the building.

“Draw them out?” Simon whispered and Amelie nodded.

A rock at the door brought out the first soldier to investigate. Rankor waited until he paced to the side of the building and then felled him with stomach curdling accuracy. The hairs on Amelie’s neck bristled and she shifted in her spot.

Another rock, another soldier, an arrow to the neck. The next investigation came in a group of three. Rankor got one. The other mages two took cover as soon as their comrade fell. That was their cue. Simon and Amelie rushed in, Simon with a broad sword and Amelie with a short sword that she took from her horse.

One of the soldiers shot a blazing fireball towards Simon and he crouched and froze, his eyes going blank. The fire passed through him as if he weren’t there. Amelie stood, momentarily shocked. He must have leapt into another realm.  Her observation cost her as stinging thorns pierced her thigh. She screamed as the burn spread through her leg. Glancing down, she could see the thin projectiles were no larger than pins. They looked like bone. She yanked them out.

A guard slammed into her and she toppled onto a crop of rocks, scraping her back. He reached down with his hand which glowed a hot red. She didn’t give him the chance to display what his magic could do to her. She rammed her short sword into his gut. His face filled with shock and then slackened as he slumped with death. Whatever power he possessed must have been lethal if he had forgotten steel could be equally deadly. Something to remember. Mages with fighting powers preferred them to steel combat.

She ducked out of the way of an oncoming fireball.  Her movements were becoming sluggish. The burn in her thigh spread to her hip. She rolled to a standing position and was instantly engaged in a sword fight with a mage about her height. He was fierce, but she was mad. She used her anger to fuel her sword.

“Emotions put power in your fight, but only when controlled,” Sir Duncan used to say.

She was trying to control the anger but the events of the long, endless, frustrating day were boiling up, causing her sword to swing wildly. The mage pushed his palm forward, more of those bone-colored darts protruding from his skin and flying through the air at her. They caught her shoulder.

“Damn the angels!” Amelie cursed. She couldn’t lift her sword. A new burn ripped down her arm.

The soldier raised his weapon to finish her, but was suddenly knocked off his feet. Rankor rolled off him and scrambled to grab his knife and push it towards the mage’s neck. Amelie clamored forward with her short sword but Rankor stopped her with a commanding, “Wait!”

She paused. Rankor tried to steady his breath. Blood dotted his chin and more sprayed when he talked. “Your other hand, if you please,” he said menacingly to the mage.

When the soldier remained still, Rankor pushed the tip of the knife into his neck, drawing blood. Scowling, the mage lifted his other hand and from it sprouted more bone darts.

“Take them, Amelie and stick them in your skin where you were hit. Quickly.”

Amelie didn’t question him. She shoved two of the darts in her leg and one in her shoulder. The relief was immediate.

Rankor sliced the mage across the throat. Amelie shut her eyes briefly to help stomach the sight.

“One hand carried poison, the other the antidote,” Rankor explained. “I would’ve loved to capture that power.”

Amelie scanned the carnage looking for any more enemies. She heard the clang of swords and she ran towards it. Rankor stumbled along more slowly behind her.

Rounding the corner, she could see Simon fighting two soldiers simultaneously and yet another mage soldier dragging a broken and bloodied Talon from the back door of the building.

Amelie grabbed Rankor’s knife, threw it, and embedded it in the head of the soldier dragging Talon.

“Do you have another?” she asked him and Rankor hobbled over to a fallen soldier and pulled two daggers off him. He handed them to her.

Simon grappled with the larger of the two men. Heavy swords swung wildly as they fought to gain control. She hesitated in her throw. The twisting and constant repositioning of the fighting men risked the tip sinking into the wrong mage.

“Rankor!” she cried out, frustrated. “Use what’s left of your energy.”

An energy pulse would not kill them but would stun them long enough for her to aim her throw.

Rankor scowled at her and thrust his hands forward. Meager sparks shot off, barely enough substance to heat a potato. “This,” he accused angrily. “This is what you left me with, halfling!”

She resisted a growl. He could not assist. Angels, help her. She poised her dagger, her eyes flitting over the fight. Simon was losing. She had to act. With a cry, she loosed her weapon. It sunk into the shoulder of one of the mages.

It bought an opening.

Simon took it, shoving his sword into the man’s leg and conking him on the head with the pommel. He swung his sword around to connect with the other man’s side, driving it in on the edge of his ribs, shallow on his side. He took his other hand and gripped his neck, cutting off the airway. When the man went limp, he released him.

“They will tell her what happened here,” Amelie hissed, coming to his side, her free dagger pointing down. Simon grabbed her wrist.

“She will know either way.”

“She will know faster.”

“Perhaps, but these mages are innocent. Spare any you can.”

The fight cooled within her at those words. She dropped her dagger.

“Very well,” she conceded.

She looked at Talon. His eyes were swollen shut, purple and bloated. Angry cuts on his head turned his matted hair a reddish brown. His arm was at an unnatural angle and Amelie was certain the only thing covering jagged bone was the green sleeve of his shirt. She knelt next to him and stroked his cheek, the one not distorted with bruises.

He looked up at her with his good eye.

“Amelie,” he croaked out.

“What are you doing here?” Amelie asked with a broken smile. Her eyes teared up at the sight.

“I came to find you. Candor is falling.”

“Falling?” Amelie’s felt her pulse pick up speed.

Talon managed a nod. “The king still sleeps from his injuries and your sister is losing power. She is set to flee to Draeden.” His words were soft and Amelie had to lean low to his lips to hear them. Still, the shock that his soft words carried surged through her. She struggled to remain composed.

She squeezed his good hand. “That bad?” she asked and he nodded gravely. She took a deep breath. All the more reason to leave this place. “Thank you,” she told him. “Thank you for coming to find me. We’re going to get you out of here and I’m going to rid myself of this amber and I will heal this. Every injury.”

She moved to stand, but Talon gripped her hand. His expression held more. Curious, Amelie leaned forward to listen.

“He is married, Amelie.”

Amelie narrowed her eyes and Talon’s look pierced her, willing her to understand.

“Seth is married. It is done. Claudia is his wife.”

Wife.

The word reached into heart and clamped down almost knocking her back senseless. Her vision blurred and it was only brought back into focus when she felt Talon squeeze her hand again. She looked at him. His face now held compassion as he realized she’d understood.

She had wished for it, hadn't she? This was what she'd left for. So why was her head swimming, threatening to topple her?

She exhaled a long breath and smiled down at Talon bravely. “All is as it should be,” she told him, patting his hand.

Instead of smiling back at her, he drew his eyebrows together. He started to say something else, but in that moment pain gripped him and he bit down on his lower lip to bear it. The eye he could see through rolled back in his head and his body went limp.

She could not help him. The bracelets mocked her with their glimmer.

A hand leaned suddenly on her shoulder. Amelie yelped and knocked the hand off. John’s hand. Her heart raced at his sudden appearance.

“I followed you,” he said in way of explanation. Amelie glanced back at Simon and Rankor and saw they did not share in her surprise. He must have been here a few minutes and she didn’t notice him while spoke with Talon. She realized then that John had been trailing her all along since the palace, hanging back and only revealing himself when risk to his own discovery was mitigated.

She should have caught his stealth behavior sooner. A spy could usually spot a kindred soul. How far she’d come then from her previous life to miss the cues.

John took her wrists. “Allow me,” he murmured. A few whispered mage words and the bracelets cracked and slid off her arms. He glanced at Simon and Rankor. “Tell no one of my involvement or several under my protection will die,” he warned them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a chain. It shone brown and silver, twisting in an intricate braid.  He looked back at Amelie and held it out to her, dangling it between his fingers. “She is a good mage. If she trusts you, I do as well.”

Amelie looked at the necklace in awe. “I pulled it from the bush,” John answered, recognizing the questions in her eyes. “I had been observing you before the White Guard closed in to take custody the day we met. I saw you toss it. I knew your connection to Henna from the beginning.” He stood and motioned to the mountains. “Go. Save your friend. The guard is looking for you and will soon find you. Harmon is the best tracker in the land. I must ride out and circle around behind them to join their search.”

Simon touched Amelie’s shoulder. “We must run. Quickly. Help me hold him.”

Together, they lifted Talon, each taking his weight on their shoulders between them. His head limped lifelessly onto her shoulder. Simon turned to look at Rankor.

“Are you strong enough to run?” he asked.

Rankor shook his head. “I will stay.” His eyes slid briefly over to John. “I may have found a purpose here.”

Amelie nodded, surprised at her sudden sadness. Rankor must have seen something in her face because his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “We will cross paths again, halfling.”

“I shall hold you to that,” she said with her own smile. “You and I have unfinished business.”

The sounds of hooves drew near and Amelie glanced at Simon. “Ready?” he asked.

She nodded and the gold mist began to surround her.

And then the White Forest was gone.

Amelie

"Are we far enough
away?" Amelie asked once they emerged from the golden haze.

Simon shook his head. "Never. Don't mistake her absence from the human world as her inability to cross into it. But we will stop. He needs rest."

Amelie removed her necklace and put a shaky hand to Talon's head. Simon gripped her arm, stopping her. "He is hurt everywhere but not severely," he explained with compassion. "Though he is uncomfortable, he will recover. If you heal him you will take his pain and as the mage, you are magically heavier for me to carry without aid.”

“But I do not know the spells,” Amelie said. “How could I be easier to carry? I’m no help.”

“You are still lighter than a human. Drained of your magic, you would be even heavier than your friend and I’m barely managing at the speed we’re going.”

Amelie gazed around them. They were in Draeden, in parts she’d never been. The land was unfamiliar to her. She turned her attention back to Simon.

“Can you teach me? The spell?”

He knotted his brows skeptically. “Now? There isn’t much time.”

“You need to rest. I learn quickly. What else is there to do while we wait?”

Simon contemplated her words for a moment before nodding. “I suppose. The words you need are ancient mage. I don’t think anyone is fluent anymore but the few we know we use for spells.”

He moved to sit beside her and placed a gentle hand on her throat. “I need to feel it and hear it to know if you’re saying it correctly. The words you’re looking for are
soo yah roun tah yah
.”

Amelie glanced around her, but did not see the mist rise. Simon took note of her observation and flashed a small smile. “Nothing will happen without the intent behind the words. Just learn them for now.”

Amelie repeated the sounds he spoke. “
Soo yah roun tah yah
.”

He squinted in concentration. “More vibration in the throat. And there’s a small catch between
roun
and
tah
.”

She tried again, but still not to his liking. He dropped his hand from her throat.

“It’s enough to know the words for now,” he said encouragingly. “Most people get it suddenly. The change happens as they’re doing whatever it is they’re trying to conjure. We’re not moving right now, so it’s unlikely to work.”

“Are there a lot of spells?”

“A few. Most mages only know the ones they use a lot in their work or their interest. Mule mages know the most. Since they have no inherent power, many of them study and practice spell casting to make up for it.”

They sat in silence for a while. John had claimed to keep Simon in good health but whatever he’d endured at the palace wore on his face. He winced with each movement and carried pains that seemed older than the brief scuffle they’d had at the border. She wondered what would become of Serena, Henna, and the orphans now. How far away from the White Forest could he be while still maintaining that realm?

She didn’t want to know. Already she felt sick, like the collapse of their haven was on her head.

“Why are you not married?” The words blurted out of Amelie. It seemed like a safer topic but then a dark look passed through his eyes and she wished she could pluck the words back out of the air.

He sigh was exhausted and strangled with hesitation. “Serena and I were seven when we lost our younger brother. My mother labored for hours before he was born. We were waiting outside the door when we heard him cry. Powerfully. He was healthy and strong. Then the Royal Readers came. They took him and told my mother they were there to see to his health. Then the next day, one came back to inform us of his death. They said he died in the night suddenly. That he struggled to eat, to breathe, that he must have been born sick.

“I knew they lied. My mother was heartsick for months after. It ate at me that there wasn’t a damn thing I could have done to save my brother. That they could just walk into our home and take him. The fact that she answers to no one poisons us all.”

He paused to glare seemingly at nothing in the far distance. It didn’t slip past Amelie that the direction he focused his attention on was the direction from whence they came.

“A year later I was taken to the White Palace to train in my gift as a gatekeeper,” he continued. “Not only did I lose my brother, I had to serve his killer. I spent a lot of years in anger. Until I met Henna. And she showed me an alternative to anger. She taught me how to enhance my power with the moonstone. How to use it for something good. I will always be grateful for her. My sister and I will serve her until our deaths. In the meantime, while the White Queen still has her grip on my people, I will not marry. I will not bring a child into a world where she places it into a pile: to be kept for her use, to be turned loose, or to die.”

Amelie had no words of comfort for such an old wound or such a large predicament. Simon didn’t want comfort. Peace returned to his face and he gestured to Talon as means of changing the subject. “What is he to you?”

“A dear friend,” Amelie answered.

“Not the one you love?”

“He serves the one I love.”

Simon nodded his understanding. “The exchange you two had before we left looked serious.”

“It was.”

Simon noticed her clipped answers and realized he’d stumbled onto
her
wounds. There wasn’t much Amelie shared with him. Their friendship was based solely on her rebirth in the White Forest. He knew only the pieced-together woman that also served Henna faithfully for she had nothing else to focus on. Nothing else to distract her. Until now.

Amelie glanced at Talon. She realized how many questions must be on the tip of Simon’s tongue with this piece of her past bloodied and broken in front of them. Talon was bloodied and broken for her. No wonder he thought him her lover.

“Simon,” she broached carefully. He looked at her. “He told me something of great concern that I think you may be able to help with. The king of Candor lies in injury. His body sleeps. I think his mind might be in the middle realm you described to me.”

Simon nodded. “It sounds likely.”

“Can you find him?”

“I can try. But not until we’re done running. I’m using all the magic I have to keep us going.”

“All right.”

Simon could see the worry on her face and tried to put her at ease. “I recover fast. As soon as we can stop, Amelie. I will see what I can do.”

It would have to do. Amelie leaned against a tree trunk, letting the bark scratch her back through her thin dress as she forced her thoughts to move onto something else. “The White Palace was not what you expected upon our arrival?” she asked.

Simon grimaced. “The queen did not buy our lovers tale as most did. The fact that most did is what kept me alive. But she had the head of the White Guard place me in a quiet room to interrogate me. But I take it you know John did not have any regard for the queen’s interest.”

“Yes. I learned that tonight. Did you know?”

“I did not. It’s hard to find others like you in the White Forest. Those that oppose the queen die. So you are careful to expose yourself.” He paused. “I was trying to come up with a way to get us out of there. And then you somehow managed to save the day.”

Amelie grunted her disagreement. “Hardly. What will Henna and Serena and the children do now?”

“I can still hide them from afar for a while. But Henna will probably return to the human realm with them. They will be fine.” Simon stood slowly and stretched his painful limbs. “Come. I have another burst in me. The farther away we are, the better. Where are we headed?”

Amelie bit her lip as an idea formed in her head. She needed to tell Simon her history before they got to Candor’s palace and she hesitated to blurt it all out in a rush while they sat hunched on this stretch of reprieve, in between bursts of running. She knew a place where they could stop for some time. Where she could tell him properly.

“I know a friend,” was her reply.