by Lisa Cassidy
“I ordered all servants to stay away, as you asked,” Cayr said.
“Appropriate mysteriousness and secrecy is therefore in place,” Brynn said in a dramatic whisper. “So tell us, did you dream up a perfect solution to defeat Shakar in your sleep last night?”
Alyx stifled an amused smile. “There is an idea, but it’s one that Finn and I came up with, together, three years ago.”
“And you didn’t share your idea with the rest of us because…?” Tarrick lifted an eyebrow.
Finn scratched his head. “Because it’s not so much a plan as an opportunity. An opportunity we had to wait for. If things had gone better—if the Zandians had agreed to an alliance years ago, for example—it would never have eventuated.”
Also, the plan wasn’t exactly foolproof. It was dangerous and risky. Alyx mentioned neither of those things aloud.
“What does that mean?” Dawn asked, an affectionate smile on her face as she looked at her twin. He gestured to Alyx, giving her the floor.
“Why did Shakar do things differently this time?” she asked the room. “Why hide his existence for decades, disguise himself amongst the mages, spend years pushing Rionnan-Shiven relations to the breaking point?”
“Because last time he was arrogant,” Tarrick said impatiently. “He thought he was strong enough to go after the council on his own with only a handful of mage supporters. And he almost was.”
“Right.” Alyx nodded. “The council trapped him in Serrin and came very close to destroying him. So this time he hid from the council and he used his mage abilities in a far more insidious manner. He used Shivasa as a tool to weaken the council and any other opposition before moving against them. And it worked. The council is gone and within months he’ll have Rionn. Tregaya won’t be long after.”
“That’s rather a grim picture of things,” Cayr said uncomfortably.
“An accurate one, though,” Jenna said bluntly.
Cayr shot her a look, and Alyx had to bite down on her smile. Good—he needed someone who pushed him past his instinctive refusal to acknowledge or deal with difficult situations.
“We know this already.” Ladan sounded as impatient as Tarrick. “We’ve known it for a long time.”
“Exactly! But when Finn and I first spoke of this, I knew there was one possible chink in Shakar’s armour—his hatred of the council. I didn’t know then why he felt so strongly about them, but it was clear from the nightmares he kept giving me,” she said. “Finn guessed that Shakar might go after the council as soon as he could, and he did. That was his first, and so far only, mistake.”
“How?” Brynn looked sceptical.
“Because it placed him in the position he’s in now.” Finn sat forward. “A position that gives us a single, brief opportunity to bring the whole house of cards falling down around him.”
Alyx pushed aside all the maps until she found the right one. Hovering over it for a moment, she found what she was looking for and placed a finger on the map. Dashan leaned over. It took him all of two seconds to catch on, a slow smile spreading over his face. “You’re both geniuses.”
“Excuse me?” Tarrick was frowning. “I think I preferred the bickering to the finishing of each other’s sentences. What are you talking about?”
“Finn? After all, most of this was your idea.”
He nodded eagerly and began talking, hands gesturing with enthusiasm as he spoke. Once he’d finished, a shocked silence settled over the room. Brynn’s mouth had literally dropped open, while Dawn wore that worried look she often did when she thought Finn was being far too rational. Ladan’s chair scraped over the floor as he moved to look at the map, eyebrows furrowed in a frown.
“That’s your plan!” Cayr spoke, horror filling his voice. “Do you have any idea what you’re suggesting? What I would have to do?”
“I’m aware,” she said quietly.
Tarrick crowded in beside Ladan and Dashan to stare at the map, as if that would somehow make the plan sound better. “It would be a massive gamble.”
“This is why we didn’t mention it earlier,” Alyx said dryly. “But Finn and I both truly believe it’s worth a try.”
“If Shakar does the smart thing and re-focuses his forces on taking Rionn before pushing harder into northern Tregaya, the opportunity we have will vanish within weeks,” Dashan added. “And it won’t come back.”
Ladan appeared less certain. “If things went the wrong way, and there’s a better than even chance they would, then we’d have accelerated our own demise. There are too many crucial pieces to success: your mages, Astohar’s people—”
“Our demise is inevitable anyway,” Finn pointed out.
“Not only inevitable, but exactly the way Shakar designed it,” Alyx argued. “Yes, we’re taking a dangerous risk, but if it works, we’d be on a whole new playing field. For the first time, he’d be at a disadvantage.”
“I agree,” Dawn said, and Brynn nodded beside her. “Anything is better than doing what Shakar expects.”
“Maybe, but even if—and that’s a big if—you succeed, there’s still Shakar and we’re right back at Serrin all over again,” Tarrick said.
Alyx lifted her hands in the air. “He’s not going to give up, Tarrick. Whether this works or not, in the end we have to face him and destroy him. I’m not going to be any more capable of that in ten years than I am today. At least this way it’s only him I face, not his Shiven army as well.”
Cayr shot out of his chair, unable to sit still any longer, and began pacing. “You’re hardly filling me with overwhelming confidence.” His blue eyes shot to Jenna. “What do you think?”
“It’s a strategic gamble,” she said, looking only at him. “But one that could change the landscape of the war dramatically in our favour. It could save Rionn.”
Cayr turned to look at Alyx for a long moment. “But it could also destroy us sooner, couldn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said.
Dashan rose to place a bracing hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’ve always listened to my crazy ideas before. I say we do this.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Cayr’s mouth. “All right, Dash, Alyx. Let’s end this.”
Chapter 42
Once decided, they moved quickly. There was no telling how fast Shakar would re-distribute his Shiven forces once he learned the Zandian army was marching south to bolster Tregayan forces. Ladan left at dusk, boarding a ship for Shivasa via ShadowFall Island—Tarian Astohar’s rebels would be integral to their success. At the same time, Alyx reached out to every single one of her safehouses, summoning every able-bodied warrior mage to Alistriem as quickly as they could move.
Dashan rode out too. He would use the militia to keep the Shiven army in Tregaya occupied, to harry them without respite and leave them unable to regroup with any speed. His eyes were alight with the coming challenge, everything in him vibrating with energy.
“I’m going to miss you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“You take care of yourself,” he told her fiercely. “I mean it.”
“You promise me the same thing, and we have a deal.” She spoke their now familiar promise to each other.
“Deal,” he said, smiling then. “I’ll see you soon, mage-girl.”
He pulled her close and she buried her face in his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. When he pulled away, she felt almost physical pain.
“Love you.” He gave her his familiar lop-sided smile.
She didn’t stay to watch him leave.
The following morning, with ceaseless grumbling at Cayr’s refusal to tell him what was going on matched with several horrified looks, Sparky dispatched orders summoning soldiers to Alistriem from every single garrison in the south and east of the country, leaving only skeleton forces behind.
“You realise if the Shiven catch on to this and attack from the southwest coast, we’re done for,” Sparky said to his king. “I know they don’t have a navy, but they ha
ve merchant ships that can carry soldiers.”
“I do realise that,” Cayr said mildly. “Give the orders, Lord-General.”
Tarrick, Jayn, and Finn left that morning too, riding north with a relief force of army soldiers and Bluecoats. They would take command of the mages already in the north and join the Rionnan soldiers defending against the Shiven advance—their job was to entice the Shiven into throwing more resources into their push south towards Alistriem. It would take a clever mix of fake retreat and furious rallying, and Tarrick’s brown eyes glittered with the same excitement Dashan’s had as he farewelled Alyx.
“We’ll make them send everything they have at us,” he promised fiercely.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, then glanced at Finn. “You concentrate on using your head to keep him alive.”
He beamed at her. “Consider it done.”
Jayn slapped Finn on the back. “Don’t worry, Magor-lier, I’ll keep them both in line.”
Two weeks later, as her mages had begun trickling into Alistriem and taking up residence in her home, she found Brynn in the palace kitchens late at night. He was chatting with the young pastry cook assigned to keep watch on the fires overnight and wolfing down a piece of sweetbread. He smiled when he saw her, but the cook muttered an excuse and vanished into the storeroom.
“Want one?” He proffered the plate. “They’re delicious.”
“Sure. I haven’t eaten anything since we stopped for lunch.”
“It’s quite the insane plan you and Finn came up with,” Brynn acknowledged. “But despite the risks, I’m so glad we’re finally bringing this to a resolution.”
“Me too.” Alyx took a seat beside him and bit into the bread. It was deliciously nutty and sweet, making her realise how hungry she was.
“Here,” Brynn placed a glass of milk on the table before her. “You should look after yourself better, Magor-lier.”
“Thanks.” She chewed, swallowed, then looked at him. “There’s another part to the plan.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “You and Finn have been busy. This is an even more secret part, I assume?”
Alyx hesitated, pushing away her plate and glass. She wrestled with herself, whether she could do this or not. She saw the logic in it, saw clearly how it might work, but what she would be asking of one of her dearest friends—it tore at her.
“Alyx?” he prompted. He looked serious now, as if sensing what was coming.
“If this plan works, and I know that’s a big if…but there will be a brief opportunity where Shakar will be at a disadvantage,” she said. “We think there are two possibilities. He’ll go to ground again, or he’ll come for me.”
“He’ll come for you,” Brynn said with certainty. “He knows you’ll never stop hunting him if he goes to ground, and you’re the only mage alive who has the abilities to do it.”
“That’s what Finn thinks too.” She let out a breath. “And he had an idea not only about how to secure the first part of our plan, but also to engineer it so that Shakar thinks he has the advantage. A way to make sure that if we somehow succeed, he and all his supporters are dealt with for good.”
“Ah.” Brynn smiled grimly. “I take it this involves me, or more specifically, my mage ability?”
“Brynn, I don’t…” She was horrified to find tears welling in her eyes.
His hand touched her arm, squeezing. “Tell me.”
Once she’d finished explaining, he sat back, letting out a long breath. Brynn was no fool, and he understood the consequences of what she was asking him to do.
“It’s your choice. I won’t think less of you if you refuse.” She tried a smile. “In fact, I’m kind of hoping you’ll refuse.”
He glanced away, his eyes distant. “I know that Shakar’s army threatens the world as we know it. If he wins, none of us will like what he builds from the ruins. But for me, defeating him isn’t about saving the world. I want him gone so that I can go home to Sarah and live in a little house in Fotiya and raise a bunch of kids that love each other like I love my brothers and sisters. I want to not be away from her all the time. I don’t want to be a solider in a war.” When Brynn looked at her, a sheen of tears made his green eyes glisten. “I think you and I have that in common.”
She cleared her throat, trying to swallow around the sudden lump there, and reached out to lay her hand over his. “We always have.”
“I’ll do it,” he said, then waved a hand as she opened her mouth. “It may not work, but I’ll give it my absolute best, and if I succeed, you’re the one who’ll have to face down the most powerful mage of the higher order that’s ever existed. I can at least do this for you.”
The tears returned to her eyes. “Thank you. Brynn…”
“Nobody will see me go. Don’t worry.” He stood. “I’d like to write a letter for Sarah before I leave. You’ll make sure she gets it, if I don’t…?”
“I will.” She stood up, hugged him fiercely. “Be safe.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “I’ll do my best.”
The following morning, Alyx packed a small bag, slung Cario’s staff down her back, and leapt into the skies above Alistriem, heading north. She touched down in the northern Tregayan city of Ribeca on a blustery, rainy afternoon three days later.
It took some time to locate the thoughts of a militia soldier in the city who knew where the king was being hidden, but eventually she made her way through a tangle of narrow streets and alleyways to a walled compound. Two plainly dressed men stood at the gates.
“I’m Magor-lier Alyx Egalion,” she told them. “I’d like to speak with the king.”
Their surprise was plain. “If you’ll wait a moment, please.”
One of the two went inside while the other watched Alyx carefully. She offered him a smile, careful to keep her stance loose and non-threatening. Moments later the gate swung open and Rodin appeared.
“Magor-lier, come in out of the wet!”
Rain dripped from gutters and danced over the cobblestones as he showed her through a small garden and into the house. More guards stood just inside the doorway.
“You’re most welcome here,” Rodin said warmly as they stepped inside. A servant came to take her dripping cloak.
“Thank you, Captain.” Alyx nodded. “I’m hoping to see the king—I have urgent news to discuss, and a proposal which requires his approval.”
“I’ll take you straight through.” Rodin began walking. “I’m currently in charge of his security. I know he’ll welcome news from the south.”
Mastaran, king of Tregaya, was a heavyset man in his mid-fifties. He rose from his chair as Alyx was shown through, his bulk dwarfing the handful of others in the room.
“Your Highness, Magor-lier Alyx Egalion here to see you.” Rodin saluted sharply as he introduced them. “She brings an urgent matter for your attention.”
“Be welcome, Magor-lier.” Mastaran’s voice boomed. He waved her to a chair near his before re-settling himself with the slowness of a man whose joints pained him. “You’re a welcome sight, but surely you have been riding for many long days to reach us. Wouldn’t you like to rest a short time before discussing what you have come here for?”
“My journey was much shorter due to my magic, Your Highness.” Alyx bowed her head politely. “And my news is best discussed as quickly as possible. I need to be gone again by nightfall.”
“Then sit.” Mastaran waved her to a chair. “You have my undivided attention, Magor-lier.”
By the time she’d finished, he was sitting back in his chair, staring at her with an interesting mix of surprise, shock, and horror. When she was done, he cleared his throat and sat forward. “You waited until all parts of this were in place before coming to talk to me.”
“Yes, Your Highness. As you can imagine, it was critical that news didn’t leak of what we’re trying to do.”
“It’s more than critical,” he huffed. “If even one piece of this falls over…if the Shiven army repositions
before you’re ready, if Tarian’s rebels don’t have the strength. And don’t get me started on what you’d do if all this somehow works but you lost mages. It would all be for nothing.”
She waited out his bluster patiently, then smiled a little. “Does that mean you’re in, Your Highness?”
“Damn right it does!” he said gleefully, then fixed her with a sharp gaze. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do.”
Chapter 43
She returned to Alistriem just over a week after leaving. The weariness of so much flying magic use tugged at her, as did a constant flicker of anxiousness. At any moment Shakar might catch on to what they were doing. All they could do was hope that he didn’t until it was too late for him to do anything about it.
She landed in the palace, going straight to find Cayr. He had mostly good news. “Tarrick and Finn are doing an excellent job drawing the Shiven further and further down towards Alistriem,” he said. “Scouting reports indicate Shivasa is sending fresh units across to Port Rantarin every day. Not that that is good news—it means we’re past the point of no return. By Tarrick’s last estimate, the army will be at our gates within two weeks.”
For a moment his anxiety drew out her own. They truly were in a dangerously precarious position. Still, everything was happening exactly as they’d planned it so far. There was nothing to do now but keep going.
“I have King Mastaran’s authorisation right here.” She passed him the sealed parchment. “I delivered his orders as I flew back south. Units of militia from the northern garrisons are slipping south past the Shiven lines in small groups already, while the rest of the militia in the north is doing its best to keep them distracted. Dashan has the Shiven soldiers in the south so tangled up they wouldn’t notice if an entire army went riding past—something we’ll be testing very shortly.”
Cayr sighed. “At least if things go badly here Mastaran won’t be as exposed. The Zandian soldiers should reach him soon.”