by Beam, Brian
Between the accuracy of Sal’s spell and the power she’d demonstrated in blasting the man through the wall earlier, I couldn’t help but be ridiculously impressed. “When did you get so good at magic?” The words slipped from my lips before I’d even thought them through. Instead of anger, though, she slumped and shook her head.
“This war has forced necessity,” she answered vaguely. “Korin, about us—”
“Sal’, don’t. It’s okay. I understand.”
“Korin, be quiet.” Sal’ snapped, placing her fingers against my lips.
She snatched her hand back suddenly, shoving it into her wicker case while thrusting her other hand forward. Behind me, someone else clambered to enter the house through the hole. This time it appeared to be a living being. One still on their first life, that is.
Before Sal’ could attack the intruder, he was violently pulled back over the edge, screaming as he fruitlessly clawed at the flooring. I couldn’t see what had wrenched him from his climb, but I assumed it to either be Wizard Guard magic or physical force from the troops below.
We both turned to the sound of a loud crash from downstairs. I drew my sword, while Sal’ kept one hand in her wicker case. She put her other hand to my chest.
“Korin, this is not the time or place to talk about this, but—”
“I know. I—”
Sal’ gave me a swift slap. “Be. Quiet.”
I nodded, putting a hand to my sore cheek. At least I knew she was the same old Sal’.
“But,” Sal’ continued, arching an eybrow as if daring me to interrupt again, “we could die at any second.” She shook her head before continuing. “When I felt the ring’s pull strengthen, I thought he was coming.”
I opened my mouth and received a withering glare, stopping my words dead in their tracks.
“Korin, I’m glad it was you instead.” Her eyes misted.
Screaming sounded from downstairs, followed by a booming blast that shook the entire house, nearly knocking me from my feet. Sal’, in her weary state, wasn’t so lucky and collapsed to the floor. I gingerly helped her up with my free hand.
Sal’ focused her eyes on mine. Her mouth opened, and she drew in a deep breath. Then, with trembling lips and a choked voice, “I love you too.” She threw both of her arms around me, sobbing into my shoulder. “I was so worried about you,” she cried.
I slid my arm around Sal’s back and pulled her tightly against me, tears starting down my cheeks as well. “Me too,” I replied softly, probably too softly to be heard. I closed my eyes, cherishing the feel of her body against mine.
Describing the feeling of learning that someone you love also loves you back is like trying to explain the purported existence of a god of cheese when there’s also a goddess of dairy. It just can’t be done. And if you try, you end up sounding like an idiot. So I’ll just describe it as feeling at peace when a war is raging right outside your window. Or right outside the missing corner of your house.
Leaning back, I gazed into Sal’s eyes, which were glazed with tears and circled with a weary darkness. I could see the love shining in them. It felt good.
“I never thought I’d hear those words from you,” I admitted. Wrapping my hand around the back of Sal’s neck, I gently drew her into a kiss. I’m not talking an innocent peck of a kiss as we’d shared before. Our tongues intertwined, dancing to the rhythm of our hearts.
For a moment, we just stood there, the war—the entire world—forgotten. In my mind, I wished for that single moment to last forever.
Then, a low-pitched chime sounded twice from downstairs, vibrating the floor and breaking us away from our embrace.
“That means the downstairs is clear of the enemy again,” Sal’ explained with a relieved exhalation. She wiped away the remnants of her tears with the back of her black sleeve. Turning towards the mass of fighting outside, her face drew into a mask of solemnity. “As Onstian-blooded good as that does us.” Onstian’s the god of triviality. The irony of a god of triviality being quite trivial is not lost on me.
Sal’s words shattered our perfect moment. My thoughts snapped back to the war and getting us out of the house safely so that we might share more of those perfect moments in the future.
“Sal’, Max—”
Sal’s face lit up. “Max?! He’s here?” When I nodded, Sal’ broke into a mixture of laughing and crying as she embraced me again. “I’m so happy you were able to get him back. I was so worried about what they would do to him at the Academy, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Is he okay?”
I eased Sal’ back, smiling. “As arrogant, sarcastic, and hungry as ever.” I nodded my head towards the hole. “He’s out there with Ithan.”
“Ithan Calign? Why is he with you?” Sal’ questioned, her smile morphing into a scowl. It looked as if she still had the ability to vacillate through emotions like Max trying to decide what to eat for dinner.
“Saiyre sent him. His family’s here in Gualain.”
“That’s right,” Sal’ gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. “Oh, gods.”
“Sal’, we’ve got more to worry about right now,” I reminded her, jerking my head towards the battle. Cold air swept into the room in a rush, blowing snow around our faces.
“What about Til’?” Sal’ questioned, ignoring my words.
“Sal’, we’ll have time for all of that later, and trust me, I have a lot to tell you. For now, Max and Ithan are going to help get us out of here. We just have to signal them, and hopefully they can clear us a path.” I tugged on her sleeve, but she didn’t budge.
Sal’ swallowed, turning her face from mine, and shook her head.
“Sal’ . . .”
“Korin, I can’t go.” Sal’s voice was strained.
“Sal’, with your and the Wizard Guard’s help, we may have a better chance of stopping this war. Max told me all about the prophecy and thinks I—”
“Korin . . . I . . .” Sal’s voice caught and she swallowed hard. “Come here.”
Sal’ grabbed my arm, leading me to a tall, unadorned, wooden wardrobe. With one hand in her wicker case, she did something that made the wardrobe slide sideways along the wall, its legs scraping across the floor. Behind the wardrobe was a door. I heard scuffling and childlike whimpering coming from the other side. My heart dropped.
“Don’t be afraid. It’s me, Salmaea,” Sal’ called before easing the door open.
When my eyes met what was behind the door, my heart continued its plummet, exiting my feet and dropping through the floor. Okay, that’s a bit extreme, but when I saw the huddled mass of children clinging to one another in the closet as they trembled and cried, a dismal understanding washed over me.
On the floor, a candle flickered, casting a soft glow over the children. Not one of the near dozen of them was over ten years of age, and one even clutched a swaddled infant, rocking it in her arms to keep it calm. Their faces were dirty and drawn with pure fear. Sal’ and her squadron were defending this house for the sake of these children. Sal’ was not going to leave them, just as I wouldn’t have left the infant Briscott had found.
Sal’ crouched before the children. “It’s going to be a little bit longer, but we’ll get you out of here. I promise,” she reassured them softly yet sincerely.
“Who’s that?” one little girl asked shyly, pointing at me. Her stringy hair clung to a round face. Her reddened eyes were swollen, pink lines down her dirty cheeks marking the path of her tears.
The same determination that struck when I’d seen the infant in Briscott’s arms filled me once again. “My name’s Korin. I’m here to help Sal’ keep you safe.”
Sal’ flashed me a furious glance, exhaling loudly as she turned back to the children. “Remember to keep as quiet as possible. Okay?” Several nodded, but they all remained silent, save a few soft sniffles. “You are doing so well. I’m very proud of each of you. I’m going to shut the door now, but I promise I will be back soon.”
Lips quivered, tiny c
hests moved rapidly, and tears welled in innocent eyes as Sal’ slowly shut the door and returned the wardrobe. If I hadn’t been there to catch her afterwards, she would’ve collapsed to the floor.
“Korin,” Sal’ began, starting to cry once again. “I can’t leave them. I can’t. I have to hold out and hope that we can secure the area around the house so I can get them to safety.” Sal’s voice dropped to a fierce whisper. “Their parents are dead. I have to help them.”
“I understand,” I assured her. “I’ll be right here to help you.”
Sal’ shook her head. “No, Korin. You have to continue on the Bherin. Gualain’s new king is holed up in his castle there. He started this war. If Raijom is in league with him somehow . . . you and Max may be the only ones who can stop him.”
Sal’ placed her slender hand on my cheek. “I love you, Korin, I truly do. Knowing that you feel the same will make this easier to face.” I knew Sal’ was talking about her death.
I lifted my hand to her face, wiping away her tears. “Sal’, I’m not leaving you or these children, and there’s nothing you can say or do to change my mind.” I gave her a smile, though my words felt like an admission that I was prepared to die with her.
“Korin . . . no, you—” Sal’s words were cut short by thunderous boom from outside, followed by an ear-splitting dissonance of screeching roars varying in pitch and resonance. We threw hands to our ears, my shortsword clattering to the floor. Chasus would’ve been disappointed.
“Don’t tell me they’ve figured out how to summon eldrhims during the day,” I shouted over the increased volume of men screaming as well as the continued screeches.
“I don’t feel or see any negative energy,” Sal’ screamed back. “No, I think that sounds like . . .”
Sal’ trailed off as the entire room became bathed in bright red light, and a sweltering blaze of heat struck us like a wave. I pulled Sal’s face into my shoulder, ducking my head down beside hers in an attempt to protect us against the blinding flash of red and the heat’s intensity. Outside, the thunderous booms increased in frequency and the roars became louder, shaking the entire house. The ceiling above us groaned, its already compromised stability threatening collapse.
The heat and light dissipated, the winter chill almost painful in its contrast. The volume of the battle outside had increased even further.
“If I had known that you two would just be cuddling up here, I would have waited outside,” a raspy voice announced from my feet. Both Sal’ and I looked down to see Max standing on his haunches, his tiny squirrel arms crossed. He looked to be only half-conscious, but otherwise calm and collected.
“Max!” Sal’ squealed.
Max nodded. “In the squirrely flesh. Now, if you two lovebirds are done messing around, follow me. You are missing all the fun.”
Chapter 44
Definitely Wasn’t Expecting That
Reunited with the woman I loved and my best friend, the world didn’t seem so bleak as we followed Max to the exploded corner of the room. We stopped at the edge, looking out across the grounds where the battle had been raging. I almost did a double take; the Gualainian troops were retreating.
“What’s going on?” I asked, watching as troops from our side chased after the retreating forces.
Max scampered up to sit on my shoulder. “Really? Were you two that concentrated on each other that you did not notice what was happening?”
Turning to Max, glaring, I responded, “Sorry if impending death stole our attention.”
Sal’ stepped forward, her head tilted up towards the gray-clouded sky. “Max, is that . . .?”
“It sure is,” Max replied smugly.
My eyes turned upwards. I sucked in a frigid breath as they met a giant flame-red dragon with a golden underbelly swooping down towards the retreating Gualainians. It let out a thunderous roar, giving explanation for what Sal’ and I had heard earlier. Nearing the ground with unbelievable speed, the dragon snatched one of the troops from the ground with one of its scaly rear feet and ascended back into the air with a beating of its massive, membranous wings.
Sal’s hand shot to her wicker case, and her eyes squinted. “It picked up one of the zombies,” she explained, likely using telescopic magic to make out the detail.
Sal’s words made me remember when I’d fought the four-armed, rotting eldrhim a seeming lifetime before. Sal’ had called it a zombie, thinking it the dead brought to life by a wizard before learning it had been an eldrhim. To me, the term seemed a silly name for such an abomination.
The dragon dropped the undead from the sky, apparently having ripped it in half during its flight. The two halves, only dots from our distance, plummeted to the ground. The dragon banked into a turn, circling back towards the retreating troops. From the gloom above, two more dragons, their color dark enough to appear as only dragon-shaped shadows, appeared to join it. All three dove towards those fleeing, their roars punctuating the screams of men.
From behind us, footsteps stomped up the stairs. I turned, sword at the ready, to see a man in a Wizard Guard uniform standing at the top of the stairs, breathless.
“General Salmaea,” he panted, clapping a fist to his heart.
Sal’ gave the man a nod, and he dropped his fist. “Status report, Cawler,” she commanded.
“Dragons have entered the battle! They appear to be concentrating on the enemy troops, mainly the zombies. I do not know how they escaped their imprisonment in the Waste or why, but they seem to be assisting our forces. The Grand Wizard’s orders—”
“I’m well aware of my father’s orders for any dragons found outside the Waste,” Sal’ rasped. “Tell Harlon that he is to assume command and ensure that those left of our squadron refrain from attacking the dragons. I want him to concentrate on regrouping our forces and hunting down any enemy troops who may have lingered behind.”
Sal’s voice rang with imperial authority, something I wasn’t used to but was proud to hear.
“Any zombies found are to be destroyed, and any living troops are to be captured alive for questioning. I want you to personally gather a tally of our squadron’s numbers. I expect a status report within the hour,” Sal’ finished sternly.
Cawler lowered his eyes. “Harlon fell, General.”
Sal’ let out a deep breath and swallowed, shutting her eyes. “Julus?” This time, her words came out weakly.
“Right away, General,” Cawler answered with another fist-to-chest salute.
“Have the orders relayed to Josuan’s and Naolim’s military leaders as well.”
“Yes, General Salmaea,” the man answered before fleeing back down the steps.
I lifted an eyebrow. “General, huh?”
“Oh, you’re just jealous,” she returned, her strained voice unable to convey the humor of her statement.
“So the dragons have found the hole in the barrier?” I questioned, looking down at Max.
“There is something else you have to see,” Max replied, avoiding my question. Max leapt to Sal’s shoulder and stood on his haunches. He pointed up to the sky. “Salmaea, take a look up there.”
Sal’ followed Max’s pointed claw, once again with a hand in her wicker case. She let out a rich laugh, and tears glistened in her eyes. “It’s Til’!” she called, turning to me with a brilliant smile.
Without magic, I was left to squint up at a gray shadow soaring high above. The shadow expanded as it descended. As it neared, the faint light filtering through the dark clouds glinted off silver and black scales on a massive serpentine body. Large, taloned rear feet thrust out, and wings spread as it pulled into a landing just a stone’s throw from the house. The dragon’s long neck reared back and then shot forward, spewing a blast of fire back and forth to create a wall of flame before an approaching group of Gualainian troops who’d stayed behind.
I turned my face from the wave of heat that washed over us, but not before witnessing the first line of troops charging directly into the flame. The scream
s of those caught in the fire stabbed through the other sounds of battle. Those in the rear of the group came to an abrupt halt and turned to retreat.
When I chanced another look at the dragon, I saw Til’ seated at the base of its neck, holding onto a thick rope tied around it. Not only was he safe and sound, but he was saving us. Saving the children huddled in the storage closet behind us. Saving dozens, if not hundreds, of troops and residents of Terafall. Not bad, for an exiled Kolarin thief.
Til’ patted the dragon’s side, prompting it to bow its upper body towards the ground. Til’ brought his legs over to one side and slid down the dragon’s scaled body. He fell once he hit the slick ground but got quickly to his feet and sprinted forward, away from the house we were in. Briscott appeared from the opposite direction, running towards him. Briscott swooped the Kolarin into a bear hug, swinging him around in circles before setting him down. Til’ staggered and fell on his ass. I couldn’t help but laugh. Sal’, and even Max, joined me.
My mirth faded as a thought struck me. “Where’s Ithan?”
“When the dragons appeared and began attacking the Gualainians, I had Ithan start spreading word to not attack them,” Max expounded. “He is having the command disseminated to as many on our side as possible. The last thing we need to do is scare these dragons off or start a war against them. We need to talk to Til’ and see if they plan to fight in the larger battle to come.” Max huffed as if I should have puzzled out his explanation on my own.
I heard a gasp from behind us. We turned to see the children squeezing out from behind the wardrobe. One, a girl of no more than five with curly, dirty-blond hair and a stained, light blue dress stared at us with her mouth hanging open.
“Did that squirrel jus’ talk?” she asked with the bluntness only possessed by a five-year-old and a lisp caused by two missing front teeth.
“Tell her, Max,” I prompted with a showy smile.
Max huffed again. With what had to be a strike to his pride, he answered, “Yes, I am a magic talking wizard squirrel.”