by R. K. Thorne
Got it.
She waited for a moment, then another, only the sounds of their arguing over the late fall forest sounds—a few birds singing, winds shaking the last brown leaves from the trees. The stag’s approach grew louder, hooves rustling the fallen leaves and thudding against the ground.
The mages finally heard it a few moments later. First Nerves heard it and tried to stagger back, but the chain caught him after only a step. He squinted at his wrists, confused. Then the blond turned toward its approach. Her hands caught on the taut chain now too, and she frowned down slightly at them, not yet understanding.
This was the time if ever there was one.
She spun the transformation quickly, and perhaps a little more carelessly than she would have liked. Some of the armor came along, but the breastplate clanked loudly to the ground. Nerves stared down in stunned, frozen shock, but not for long.
The stag had grown so tall his antlers spread as wide as two horses; he was larger than an elk now. Any larger, and he might have had points reaching beyond the tops of the closest trees.
He stomped viciously at the earth, huffing and snorting at them in genuine irritation. Then he slowly turned, as best he could through the trees at his enormous size, and leapt gracefully away.
Thank the gods, it was just enough time. Samul had raced past her, an orange-brown streak flitting down the mountain and through the brush and leaves. She raced after him, catching up quickly, their scampering somewhat hidden by the noise of the great stag striding away in the other direction.
Cries came quickly, though.
To the water. Ever fancy finding out what it’s like to be a fish?
No. I haven’t.
Today is your lucky day, my lord.
Perhaps they didn’t need to. It was an extreme measure, a stressful experience to breathe water for a time, even if it came mostly naturally while you were at it. As they reached the shallows of the water, she padded in, and the king followed her. They trotted downstream. Shouts sounded, but from how far away?
Ker-thunk. An arrow splashed into the water at her side. Oh—damn it. She hadn’t seen any weapons among them, certainly not a bow, but her vision had hardly been good.
Shunk. Another arrow flew, scraping past her hindquarters and shaving off a chunk of skin.
Guess there was no avoiding it. She dove further into the water, water that as a fox, she could not swim in. But transforming while on the bank would not end well.
Come on. This will feel a little weird.
As if this doesn’t already. To his credit, though, he followed her without question.
Just a little farther, and she began the twisting transformation, her furry body whirling away to be replaced with slick scales, flapping fins.
Gills. She forced herself to breathe the water anyway. The instinct that she would drown this way soared, but there was no way around the water rushing in. The river was dark and murky, and the current spun her this way and that, tumbling her downstream and bouncing her off rock and pebble.
After what seemed like an eternity, she calmed. There were her fins. And the water’s surface. Where was the king? And the stag? If she’d known they had a bow and arrow, she wouldn’t have involved him.
She groped around in the wet darkness. A few crayfish lurked, insects, frogs. No predators that she could see, thankfully, nor many fish. This would only be a brief swim, to hide them way and get a little farther downstream. But where was Samul?
He was not upstream. Perhaps he’d been swished farther on, or hadn’t righted himself yet. She moved her mind ahead of her as she began to swim downstream, hopefully toward her waiting steed.
There—she caught his presence.
Are you all right?
This is insane. And yes.
She caught up with him and saw why he was farther downstream than she. Not only had he righted himself, but he was swimming energetically away from those bastards.
You make a fine fish, my lord.
Thank you, my lady.
I’m no lady.
You seem to be making this rescue thing a habit. I believe rescuing kings and princes is a good way to earn yourself a title. We should have thought of that sooner.
She blinked, although with her fishy, translucent eyelid, she wasn’t sure what the heck that was supposed to accomplish. Well, maybe if he hadn’t been so busy distrusting her, he might have thought of it. Would he say the same thing when he was no longer a fish? If we’re making a tally of valiant deeds, your knee should be healed too when we transform out of this mess of a creature.
She left Samul’s mind and groped back behind them, looking for the stag. He had escaped them but had finally succumbed to a tangle with a great blue conifer and a pine.
Ah, it’s you. Good. Turns out this great size is not as useful as I thought.
She stifled a laugh and brought him back to his original size slowly, swiping energy from the algae and plants growing beside them as they swam. As long as you’re safe. Thank you for your help. May the gods smile on you.
The stag chuffed and sprang away, newly thankful for his more agile, original size.
As fish, they swam downstream for what felt like an eternity. She groped for Lukor periodically, torn between hoping to get out of this form as soon as possible and hoping to hide from them indefinitely.
I have a horse, she told him as they swam. He was trotting downstream. As soon as we reach him, we’ll get out of the water.
You said there was more to explain about your escape. Care to explain why you defied your king’s direct order?
My king? I’d begun to suspect I would never be more than just some spy from Kavanar to all of you. Except Aven, of course.
Answer the question.
A mage tried to murder me.
What? What about the guards?
They had been transformed into mice and trapped. Alive, though, thankfully.
What happened?
I killed the mage, bound the creature mage who’d transformed the guards, and escaped.
I understand why you’d kill a mage who attacked you. But why follow us?
Because I knew Aven would need me. Appears I was right.
Point… taken.
I’m not willing to lose him over politics. Or anything else, really. No offense.
Samul didn’t respond with words, but she saw his thoughts, likely ones he was not intending to share. A realization was spreading through him that she did truly love Aven. Probably not because of her words, but because he could feel, mind to mind, the emotion behind them.
She should pretend she didn’t notice what he was thinking. She should brush it off, hide it away. What business of his was the depth of her feelings? That was between her and Aven. Although… if the king didn’t trust her enough to allow her to protect Aven when she needed to and vice versa… then it did matter.
He is the noblest person I have ever known. If it were the right thing to do, he would face down any foe for his people. And for you. And for me. And for that, I would do pretty much anything for him. Fortunately or unfortunately, it turns out that the greatest monstrosity at the moment is not that far from home.
Are you referring to me? To the Assembly? To Alikar?
I’m referring to the Masters.
I see.
All right. I feel the horse. Let’s get out of here and back into ourselves.
Indeed.
Well, this calculated risk had gotten a lot more risky than he’d originally calculated.
He sat down at his desk and began looking for his quill. The curve of Marielle’s hip caught his eye, sensuous underneath the red linen of the bed. They had discussed their options for dealing with the king’s mistress at length.
But it seemed the queen’s problem was less about seeking the king’s affections and more about seeking any affections at all.
Well, he shouldn’t paint Marielle as indiscriminate. Impossible to say if he in particular was attractive to her or if he’d simp
ly presented her with the opportunity. He hadn’t even intended to plant the idea in her head. Such a thing was a little more risky than his usual style. But… she had large, endearing eyes and a reserved laugh that lit her face pink when she was pleased. She was a beautiful woman. It was possible he wasn’t the only man to have taken advantage of the situation. He would have to question her on the matter. If this was a hobby of hers, everything became more dangerous indeed.
If, perhaps, she were actually taken with him… that would be much safer. And much more preferable.
Gods, was he growing soft? Was that the slightest hope kindling that this was personal, that she fancied him and not just revenge on that retch of a king? He was a right idiot, letting himself think like that. Such attachments were a sure road to disaster.
Another possibility was that he was one of the few men in a strong enough situation to be worth this risk. A man with some forces to his name that would definitely obey him and not necessarily the king. If King Demikin found out about this dalliance, he could certainly try to have Daes hanged, or some other, more colorful end. But Daes also had a few ways to prevent that from happening.
And now it was time to ensure he had a few more. He finally located his quill and began to write.
There were alliances to be made. A plot was coalescing in his mind, and if he could reach Evana, she would play a part in it. With those mages working on a brand, he would have a replacement soon. Or he’d slit their throats and try three more. It would work out. His forces in Akaria had to be making an impact by now, and more would be headed there soon. Even the creature mage had delivered the address he’d requested of her, although it had come attached to a falcon that had dived at him and nearly torn off part of a forearm. He didn’t expect that the address was the truth, although the building was the primary Akarian palace in Panar and a logical choice for such a meeting. More likely, it gave him one place not to look. But he had been more interested in whether she’d respond to threats, and it seemed she might be persuaded to, with the right ax hanging over the right person’s head.
In general, things were good.
He glanced back at Marielle’s softly sleeping form. Hmm, companionship of this type did have a way of making people feel more optimistic than usual. But he was certainly being objective. This was merely turning out better than the pessimist in him could have hoped.
He tore his eyes away from the luscious curves of her body. If he could finish these letters, he could return and join her.
This was treason, of course, but he had no regrets. Why was it perfectly acceptable for the king to cheat with a mistress, but he’d try to have them both hanged for doing the same exact thing? Well. No way Daes was letting that happen.
He hadn’t intended to take on King Demikin directly—Daes’s activities against his lord had stuck more to verbal criticism than anything that would actually undermine the king’s sovereign power and authority. But Daes was probably being unrealistic. Conflict with Demikin had likely been inevitable. Destabilizing the kingdom through a war the king was ill-equipped to lead would make it all that much easier and play right into Daes’s hands.
Was it possible to topple King Demikin? Or at least, set him off-balance? That could certainly only be good for Kavanar in general—and Daes and Marielle in particular.
Damn. He was a damned idiot.
He continued to write.
Chapter 14
Dreams & Nightmares
Aven took a sip of ale in his room and studied his notes. No news of any mages reaching Anonil had been waiting, so he could do nothing on that front. Instead, he’d made a careful list of the Assembly members and was trying to think through what their reactions might be to the news.
His father wasn’t dead. He hoped. But… what if he was? What were they going to say when Aven told them?
Their chance to demand that Samul change his heir had been stolen. Aven was now the de facto king. Scary as that was to think.
He had never been frightened of being king. But he hated to think that they would feel their voices were being ignored, that their chance to choose him as their king had been brushed aside. He had always hoped and planned to win their support. Realistically, he still needed to, but this wouldn’t help clarify anything.
At the same time, it really didn’t matter. Aven was not going to abdicate. Both of his brothers were mages anyway, no one else made any sense, and being a mage was not a good reason to give up the throne in a time like this, if at all.
But. He had hoped to let them have their say and convince them.
Dyon wouldn’t regret the meaninglessness of the vote. He’d probably never wanted it to happen anyway, and this was all a giant inconvenience. Asten might feel the same way. She’d never been a rebellious one; she valued the chain of command, and the throne was part of that. But he still felt unsure of her vote; Shansaren’s loyalty rested above all that. Generals could be bribed or hate mages just as easily as anyone, and she represented them quite faithfully. He hoped he had Beneral’s support as a fellow mage, but he hadn’t had time to broach the subject with him. There could be obstacles Beneral hadn’t mentioned—or wouldn’t. Just as Toyl had refused to give her final say on the matter. Aven had no idea how the two of them would react to losing their chance to deny him rule of the kingdom. They might not care. Or they might care a lot.
Alikar and Sven were likely past winning over anyway. But what exactly did that mean? Would it come to war exactly, and if so, when? Would Alikar try to withdraw his territory from the kingdom? Aven had thought that if the men had voted and voiced their objections, Samul would then have likely ignored them or chastised them, and eventually they would have either gotten used to the situation or the increasing conflict with Kavanar would have changed their minds. Well, maybe Alikar’s mind. Sven was a depraved fool, but he was busy with his wine and women and therefore rather harmless. He was also the farthest from Kavanar with the smallest territory. He could easily spend all day with his head in the sand—er, more likely the wine barrel.
But Alikar would be on the frontlines of any battle with Kavanar. Unless he had already chosen a side—the other one. Unless he already planned to fight against Aven and the others. Then Toyl and Dramsren would be at the brink of the conflict.
Unease shifted through him at the thought, but he wasn’t sure exactly why.
How could Alikar be taking this position? Did he really hope to gain power from it? Could he perhaps have more mundane motivations than power or religion? Could he simply have been bought, the way he had bought his seat? And if he had—what did that mean? Would he aid Kavanar in a war, as Samul had suspected? If he’d been paid, Aven hoped he’d been paid well for that kind of treachery.
He sat within Alikar’s territory even now. He glanced at the door, listened, but heard nothing. Thankfully, there were plenty of forces with them from Estun, and he didn’t need to rely on any kind of local protections. Aven would breathe easier when they reached the White City, though.
If Alikar had been bought, then he could turn his own men inward. He could promptly attack Toyl in Dramsren. Unless… Toyl had been bought off too.
Now Aven knew where that uneasy feeling came from. He stared at his map, although he didn’t need it to understand the implications. If both were bought, the treachery would slice deep into the heart of Akaria. Nearly every territory shared a border with Dramsren. Northern and southern forces would be fairly divided, except for a stretch of extremely rugged forest terrain in Shansaren in the far east.
Gods, let it not be so. Aven wished Toyl hadn’t gone on ahead of them, that he could go and talk to her now and convince himself he had nothing to worry about.
But, of course, he was a king now. He would always have things to worry about.
Like the fact that Alikar already knew Samul could be dead. If he truly was a traitor, could he have sent the word into Kavanar already? Maybe even now Daes was lifting a goblet of wine to celebrate the news. Maybe even now they
moved to act again.
Yes. He had no proof, but he knew it must be true. Even if it wasn’t Alikar, there had to be some spies, especially in Anonil. If any of the mage slaves forced into the attack had survived, they would likely report back the results of their attack. He winced. He hoped some of them had survived, as none of them had chosen that path, just like Miara. He shouldn’t even have killed the one that he had, although it had hardly felt like he’d had a choice.
He refocused his thoughts on Kavanar. On Daes, the Dark Master. If he were Daes, what would he do?
If a more serious attack were an option, if he had control over the forces or could convince the king, this would be a good time. They wanted to draw Akaria into Kavanar, but as yet, Akaria hadn’t taken the bait. Perhaps he was eager to get things started. Things wouldn’t get any more unstable than this.
Instability that one could easily argue had all been caused by Kavanar, exactly according to Daes’s plan.
He turned his gaze to the map of Akaria. Where? Where did it make sense to come into Akaria?
Anonil, this very city, made the most sense to Aven. If Alikar had been bought, he was probably offering little resistance. Kavanar could likely wipe out the Assembly and Aven with the right attack while they traveled. Luckily, they hadn’t been traveling that long, and Kavanar didn’t have the most mobile military.
Then he thought of the scroll Miara had received, requesting the details of the meeting place for the vote. If Kavanar knew the meeting was happening, they would attempt to target the event somehow. The White City was not as small as Anonil and was better defended, but it was no fortress. The seaside merchant city had walls and gates and guards, but it was a hub of commerce. Many came and went everyday as a matter of routine.
If he were Daes…
So far, Daes had favored the clandestine route and the use of mage slaves in all of his attempts. He’d expressed disdain for such tactics, but perhaps King Demikin still stayed his hand. Or perhaps he acknowledged it was the smart way to fight the early battles in a war with a superior force. Either way, Kavanar’s traditional army remained at rest. The cave-in, the assassination attempts, the ambush—although it’d been the most straightforward, even the scroll left in Miara’s room. He felt uneasy at the thought of that yet again but pushed it away. If Daes remained consistent, he would send some kind of ambush or assassin to the meeting place. If he could figure out where exactly the meeting took place. He still needed to think of a way to save Miara’s family, but he grudgingly set the thought aside for now. One problem at a time.