by Jaxon Reed
“It could be anywhere in the woods, then.”
“Yes. But at least we know the general area where to look. How many soldiers can you gather up on short notice?”
“I’ve got two thousand here in the city.”
“Excellent. I’ve got a few tools I’ve been working on, too. Have your men provisioned and ready to travel by tomorrow. We’ll pay Greystone’s little village a visit. The soldiers can loot and pillage while I search for that dagger.”
Supper was uneventful, Barley thought, with the exception of the new guest whom the merchants and the lad seemed to know well, a man by the name of Stin.
Stin shook his hand, and seemed polite and respectful to the dwarves, but there was something about the man Barley could not put his finger on. He did not trust the stranger.
He did not trust humans in general, but so far his dealings with them on this trip had been on the up and up. Something about this Stin fellow did not sit well with him, though.
For his part, the prince ignored the man. All humans were suspect to Dudge, and he was neither more nor less suspicious of the new one than any other.
Fret was the one who first noticed something definitely amiss. Now that the human lad had his authority figure back, most of his attention centered on the man, leaving Fret with no one to share stories of old Norweg. So, Fret reverted to quietly watching all that occurred around him.
Stin proved the most interesting to watch.
All the other humans in the public house seemed to like the man. He had a charming smile, and even the ugly serving wench warmed up to him, topping his mug off more frequently than others.
The female merchant, Bellasondra, seemed ready to become his mate. She scooted closer and closer to him throughout the evening until she was practically sitting in his lap. Stin seemed to appreciate her proximity, and showered her with compliments and conversation.
It was during another round of drinks Stin bought for their table that Fret first noticed foul play. Stin handed two large silver coins to the wench, then quickly retrieved four different ones out of the folds of her apron with his other hand.
Fret blinked, unsure if it was his imagination or if Stin had actually taken back double the number of coins he had given her.
He sipped on the weak human ale (they were out of dwarven stout, much to everyone’s chagrin), and decided to watch the man even more closely.
Sure enough, when time came for the next round of drinks, Stin gave the wench two silver coins, and deftly removed four more from her apron. No one else noticed, except Fret.
That night as they prepared for bed, Fret shared his observations with Barley and Dudge.
“A thief, jus’ like most humans.”
“Nay, Highness. This man was somethin’ else. He has magic that assists him. No one else noticed. If they paid attention t’ th’ exchange o’ money, all they saw was him giving th’ wench two coins. No one noticed him swipin’ twice th’ amount he gave her every time.”
“You noticed.”
“Aye. Perhaps his magic be less potent wi’ dwarves. You two weren’t payin’ him no mind or perhaps ye’d’ve noticed it, too. I dinna even see it ’til later in th’ evenin’, an’ I watched him most o’ th’ night.”
Dudge and Barley looked at one another from their beds across the room.
“It does nay bode well fer yer merchant t’ be in cahoots with a thief, Barley.”
“Aye, but I’m thinkin’ th’ only reason they traveled with him was he got ’em out of a pickle on th’ road. They are not long friends. Even I might be predisposed t’ be kind t’ a thief iffen he saved me from bandits. And likely, as Fret says, they dinna know he’s a scoundrel.”
“I might be kindly too in such a situation. Until he stole from me. Then I’d slit his throat.”
Oldstone sat at the large table in the library, sipping his coffee and paging through the morning broadsheets from across the realms. He stopped when he came to one from Kathar in the Emerald Kingdom. He put it down and set aside the coffee cup, retrieved a quill and dipped it in ink. He pulled over the only sheet of blank parchment on the table and scrawled a name at the top, then started writing.
“Greystone,
“They are coming. The Emerald Home Guard is commanded to gather tomorrow in preparation for a march.”
He initialed it at the bottom, and waited a few seconds. The ink disappeared. A few moments later, new ink appeared.
“Oldstone,
“We’ll be ready. Will you and Mita be joining us? G.”
The old man smiled at the question. Both he and the other wizard already knew the answer.
“Yes.”
He hurried to write letters to the others.
The following morning all the guards in Kathar, save a skeleton crew for gates and dungeons, assembled near the castle courtyard. Others, in reserve positions, left their jobs as bakers, carpenters, drivers, private guards, and other various employments, and reported for duty near the courtyard as well.
Sergeants barked orders, officers conferred, quartermasters handed out supplies, units were formed, meals were served, and by the end of the day the army was finally ready to march. They went out the city’s main gate, and promptly made camp for the night. A foraging crew went back and confiscated most of the food in Kathar’s markets for the army’s supper.
The following morning after a hearty breakfast, and many goodbye kisses from wives and girlfriends, the army set out on the road marching in ranks of five men across. Officers on horseback led the way and others followed along to make sure everyone stayed together. The supply wagons brought up the rear, most of them led by oxen.
The procession made it to the crossroads by dusk, and the army set up camp again. They confiscated several merchant wagons parked at the crossroads, and all their supplies. Some of the captains discussed conscripting the caravan guards, burly men used to fighting. In the end, they decided the guards’ lack of soldiering skills would hinder everybody if any serious resistance was met in the woods, and the merchants were allowed to keep their men.
Early the next morning before sunrise, a freak storm blew in. High winds knocked down tents and scattered horses and oxen. Rain fell down in torrents, often mixed with hail the size of apples.
At first light of dawn, the officers found their camp in shambles, and the rain still pounded down hard. All roads were impassible. Some of the older sergeants, who had seen a campaign or two, murmured amongst themselves about “wizard storms.” Morale plummeted as the day and its bad weather continued.
Loadstone stood half a mile from the crossroads, hidden near a copse of trees. He held his staff at an angle in front of him, pointed at the clouds gathered over the crossroads. The circle of white hair around his head contrasted neatly with his dark almond skin. His eyes never left the sky, his concentration fully centered on the storm spell.
Redstone patted his friend’s face with a cloth, wiping moisture away. He held up a chunk of broiled fish to Loadstone’s mouth, and fed it to him. Redstone wiped the crumbs away from the other wizard’s face, then lifted a mug of water to his mouth. After Loadstone drank, he took the mug away and wiped off the other man’s lips.
“How long do ye think you can keep this up, Loadstone?”
“As long as our food holds out.”
Margwen walked arm in arm with Trant through the paths of an elaborate garden behind the manor. She held on tight to his arm, and they moved slowly, savoring time with each other as well as the sights of the garden. She breathed in deep to smell his scent, as well as the flowers blooming everywhere.
Pixies flew around in circles. Some stopped to smell flowers. Others chased one other in acrobatic glee, forming complex patterns as their colorful lights streaked around in flight.
He was tall, head and shoulders above her, and his arms were tightly muscled from swordplay and archery. She gripped him tighter, then looked up and smiled at him.
She discovered these were her happiest moments,
walking with him in the garden, sharing meals and talking. Sometimes they talked about important things, sometimes about silly things. But they always had something to talk about.
She was falling in love, and finding it difficult to imagine spending her life with anyone else.
Margwen looked around the garden, and imagined their own little prince or princess laughing and playing, sniffing flowers and chasing pixies.
“This place is amazing. I had no idea magic could be used this way!”
“Yes, this is a recreation of the courtyard garden from my castle back home. Nanny used to take me there when I was a child. Greystone thought it would help ease my homesickness after he brought us here. We were in the garden when he rescued us from Endrick’s men.”
The mention of Endrick wiped the smile from Margwen’s face, and darker thoughts bubbled up in her mind.
“That’s terrible what he did. I am so sorry for what happened to your family.”
“The day will come when Endrick and Darkstone will pay for their crimes against my people. We’re getting closer every day.”
“I just don’t understand why something couldn’t be done about it sooner. Why haven’t the other wizards descended on Kathar and taken them both out?”
“I used to wonder that, too, and when I was a child I practically begged Greystone to get the Magic Council to do it. He explained to me that wizards rarely work together for a common cause. As I grew older, and he spent more time training me how to run a kingdom and how to deal with wizards, I began to understand more.
“You see, wizards are high scholars of magic. They have life-lengthening spells and live far longer than the rest of us. When a wizard finally dies, which is rare, his stone is passed down to another who then takes the stone’s name.
“Each wizard is interested in his own type of magic and he’ll specialize in it, growing in knowledge and strength. Some will take an interest in everything, like Oldstone. But most find only one or two particular branches of magic interesting, and they’ll end up spending a lot of time in it.”
“Like Greystone’s fascination with dimensional magic.”
“Exactly! That’s one of his specialties. They each have something that they are the best in the world at performing. It’s really quite interesting. As a child I used to fantasize about becoming a wizard like Greystone. He was my hero growing up, seeing as how he rescued me from certain death. But when I grew older I realized I would never control enough magic to be considered for a spot on the Wizard’s Council, if one opened up in my lifetime.
“When the rare position does open, they look at the strongest wielders of magic across the realms. Usually court magicians are high on the list, or others who’ve shown themselves to be exceptionally well-versed in wielding magic. Then the council investigates further. I’m a little fuzzy on the details because Greystone has never really talked about how they go about deciding. But eventually the council members select a replacement. Then that person receives a life-extending spell, and is renamed according to the stone they inherit.”
“But I still don’t understand why the other wizards wouldn’t join forces and take Darkstone out for you.”
“Wizards tend not to be as interested in the affairs of men, and more interested in their own pursuits, if they can help it. They’re not even interested in amassing fortunes like a typical person. You know the saying, ‘A man who can make his own gold doesn’t need to be paid in money.’ Well, they can all make their own gold. Greystone assures me it’s fairly easy, especially if you have lead on hand. Lead and gold are very similar, and I’ve seen him change counterfeit coins some of the villagers brought him.
“For some reason, though, it’s a very difficult spell for anybody who is not a wizard. Countless court mages would love to be able to make their own gold, and their kings would love it as well. I asked Greystone once, and he said spells like that are nearly impossible without one of the twelve stones.”
“Oh. Well, I suppose that makes sense.”
“Yes, so most of the wizard are pursuing their own agendas, and they’re just not interested with who is in power within any kingdom at any particular moment.
“Greystone is different, though. He is always concerned with the goings on of the kingdoms, and people in all the realms. He loves the common folk and the nobility as well. I think some of that has rubbed off on Oldstone, too. They’re close friends.
“But Greystone remains uniquely interested in people. Each wizard has a lair they retire to for personal pursuits. Oldstone has his flying castle. Redstone supposedly has a cave somewhere in the mountains no one else can get into. When Greystone set up his lair, he created this village and opened it to others. Using dimensional magic, he put entrances near all the major kingdoms, adding spells so that those in need could easily find their way here.
“Since Greystone is much more interested in helping people than others on the council, they often accuse him of meddling in things, especially royal affairs. And it’s true, he’s helped kingdoms form alliances. He’s helped broker marriages . . .”
Trant glanced down at her and Margwen blushed.
“He’s helped start and end wars. But none of the others are nearly as interested in the affairs of mortal man as he is. So when Darkstone and Endrick took over my kingdom, the council remained unconcerned. He explained to me, and the first time was when I was a little boy not long after he brought me here, that we would have to wait. Darkstone had gone rogue from the council, but the council was willing to leave him be so long as they could continue their individual pursuits. He could not take on Darkstone alone but over time, he said, Darkstone would prove to be too big a threat. Eventually, he assured me, others on the council were sure to join us in taking him out.
“I think that time has come, now that the Forlorn Dagger has surfaced. It played a role in the last great battle, and it can kill even a wizard if someone gets close enough. That has their attention, and they’re more willing to intervene now that they are beginning to see Darkstone as a personal threat.”
Greystone said, “I’m glad you listened to me about paying more attention to what goes on in the kingdoms. Reading through the broadsheets each morning is a good idea. I’m going to have to learn that spell.”
Oldstone nodded absently while he stroked Deedles’ fur. The blind cat’s eyes were closed and it purred loudly.
“This is a remarkable cat. You say it accompanied Princess Margwen of Coral?”
“Yes. She helped thwart Darkstone when he tried to kidnap the princess. She formed a Globe of Expulsion and killed four of his men with it.”
“Globe of Expulsion? That’s a complex spell.”
“Yes. I doubt it’s been used in many decades. She can’t see very well in the physical world, but her spiritual eyesight is quite good. As soon as she identified the threat to the princess, she took care of things.”
Oldstone nodded, deep in thought as he stroked the cat. Finally he looked up at Greystone.
“Perhaps she’ll be willing to teach a thing or two to our battlemaiden.”
Mita flew past a long row of foot soldiers holding her sword out to the side, slashing each one as she passed. They screamed, some running away while others tried to position themselves to stop her. She swooped up at the end of the row, turning around to see how successful she had been. Two thirds of the column drifted up in black smoke. Most of the remainder turned and charged toward her.
A large bolt of energy slammed into her Globe of Protection, moving her sideways a few steps. She scanned the army, trying to locate the wizard. She shot a few energy bolts in the direction she thought his came from, taking out two horses and their riders. She shot more at the row she had flown through, killing most of the soldiers she missed earlier.
The wizard shot back at her, then sent a long streak of lightning that revealed a better idea of his location. She realized he hid near the rear of the army, and she flew that way.
Arrows and arbalest bolts sailed up
at her, all bouncing off the globe. Occasionally she shot back, killing soldiers who were persistent or annoying.
The wizard threw more bolts of energy at her, but she was prepared and dodged them easily. She scanned the ground ahead, looking for him.
Finally, he unleashed an amazingly powerful lightning bolt. It wiped out her globe of protection, and she felt the shock of electricity even though her black armor. The suddenness of the attack knocked her out of the sky, and she fell down at the rear of the army.
The wizard stepped out from behind a group of supply wagons, and cast another spell. This time, a giant metal net materialized in the air and dropped down on top of her.
She struggled to stand under the weight of the net. Before she could fly away, the nearest soldiers piled on top of her. Then more joined the pile. A dozen, three dozen, soon over a hundred men piled on top of the net and on top of her. She blasted bolt after bolt of energy, killing the men closest to her, but their weight stayed on top of her as more piled on.
She was crushed under the weight, and she felt her face digging into the ground. She couldn’t move, and she couldn’t think of any spell that would help.
Suddenly, everything disappeared. The soldiers and the metal net and the wizard all drifted up in smoke. So did the supply wagons, the warhorses, and all the weapons. She stood up and looked around an empty field.
Above her, Oldstone and Greystone stood on the floating slab looking down. She flew up to their eye level. Oldstone held a white cat in his arms. It looked at her steadily with pink eyes.
Greystone smiled.
“Your first army?”
Mita nodded, and frowned in disappointment at her performance.
“That’s alright, princess. Better to lose in a simulated battle than in the real thing.”
Oldstone nodded.
“I agree. That’s one of the reasons I’m putting you through these trainings, so you can learn from your mistakes ahead of time. Now, what did you do wrong?”