by Beam, Brian
Yet, that was exactly what we were planning to do.
The ring jerked in my hand, snapping me from my worries. Sal’ was standing not far ahead in a blue wizard robe, her hood raised. Julus and two men in steel armor stood beside her. Julus had a golden ball of light hovering above one of his hands, casting a reflective glow off the men’s armor and illuminating Sal’s weary face.
As I approached, Sal’s attention fell on me. For a brief moment, the weariness left her eyes, and her lips curved slightly. She held up a hand to the armored man who’d been speaking, silencing him. She turned to Julus and said something. Julus responded with a fierce nod and a fist to his chest. Sal’ gave him an appreciative embrace in return—maybe to reinforce that she was not his leader anymore—and swept away towards me.
One of Sal’s hands went to her wicker case that was now hanging on leather strap threaded between her breasts. She held her other hand palm up, a ball of light appearing over it.
“We need to get away from here before they start asking me for more orders,” Sal’ sighed when she reached me. She stopped just short of where I stood, close enough that I could’ve wrapped my arms around her. The only thing that kept me from doing so was the uncertainty of how her fellow wizards would feel about it, especially when they’d still believe her to be betrothed to Saiyre. “You’d think that they couldn’t do a thing on their own. Maybe that’s just all men, though.”
“You’re too cute when you’re exasperated for me to take offense to that,” I said, smiling.
Sal’ responded with a roll of her eyes.
“We could head back to the house,” I offered, gesturing back the way I’d come. “Everyone else is already settled in. Max said he’s going to put up some wards so nothing catches us unaware tonight. That is, if he can stop eating long enough to do so.”
Sal’s melodic laugh and glimmering eyes lightened the mood. She shook her head as her laughter faded. “I was hoping we could take some time to talk.” She glanced back at Julus and then leaned closer and whispered, “Alone.”
The old Korin would’ve taken Sal’s words to be suggestive of something . . . well, more. I’d been burned by assuming such before, though, and I knew that we had more important things we needed to deal with. That, and Sal’ made me yearn for more than just a night under the blankets. It would be nice to have some time to ourselves for once, even if just to talk; there’d always been an incessantly chattering Kolarin or sarcastic, fuzzy wizard nearby before. Also, this could be the only night we’d ever get the chance.
“Of course,” I answered, staring into Sal’s luminous eyes. It was hard to believe that not long before, I’d viewed her as a crazy, pitiful excuse for a wizard. I’d grown to learn that she was so much more than that.
“There’s a cellar at the blacksmith’s,” Sal’ explained, tugging my arm to follow her as she walked. “One perk of the Wizard Guard being too stubborn to accept my resignation of leadership is that I’ve been ensured a safe and private place to sleep for the night. The blacksmith’s kiln is supposedly down there, so it should be warm.” Sal’ cast me a knowing look. She’d obviously become accustomed to my dislike of cold weather.
“The Wizard Guard sure seems to respect you,” I remarked, remembering Sal’s admission that most at the Wizard Academy treated her with disdain due to her lack in magical skill, especially in relation to her parentage.
“They didn’t at first,” Sal’ answered quietly. “My father sent me out with my own squadron solely a figurehead. I was never even supposed to see battle; I was only to give reason for the Council to approve my Rank for propriety’s sake. Gods forbid the next Grand Wizard be married to an un-Ranked wizard.”
Sal’ came to a sudden stop, noticing that my face had dropped. “Korin, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Saiyre. I just . . . I just cared for you so much, and to be honest, before I was taken back to the Academy, I’d thought that maybe I could make a life with you.” Sal’ looked away and started forward quickly, as if embarrassed by her admission.
“Sal’,” I called, hurrying to catch up.
“I should’ve told you everything,” Sal’ continued as I caught up. “How I acted around you when I was betrothed to another was inappropriate. I understand if you don’t—”
“Sal’, stop,” I said, stepping in front of her and drawing us to another halt. “Are you going to go back to him?”
Sal’s eyes searched mine for a moment. “No,” she answered without a trace of doubt.
“Then it doesn’t matter. I love you.” Those last three words were ones I’d once thought would never come from my mouth, but they felt more right than any I’d ever spoken before. Still, a small part of me felt sorry for Saiyre—a very small part.
Sal’ smiled up at me and started walking again. “Saiyre probably doesn’t expect me to return anyway.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
“Didn’t you read my journal?”
“Of course not.”
Sal’ let out a guffaw that cut short when she saw I was serious. “Oh. You really didn’t read it?”
“I didn’t think I should.”
Sal’s arm slipped around my waist; apparently she didn’t care what the other wizards thought. “That’s sweet of you. I have a feeling that Saiyre knew exactly what would happen with us when he sent you to find me.”
I was taken aback. “Then why did he help me?”
“I told him you’d been named in a prophecy that hinted at you being the key to ending the war.” The weight of the world climbed back atop my shoulders, digging in its vicious claws. “He believed me and decided to help you.”
“But why send me after you if he knew there were feelings between us?”
“Because he truly does love me,” Sal’ answered sadly. “I’m assuming he did read my journal. If so, he knows who my heart really belongs to.”
Sal’s arm squeezed tighter as I placed mine around her shoulders. The world took flight again, making me feel as light as a feather.
“Even if he didn’t read it, he had his suspicions about us. I believe he wanted to make sure I was safe—to make sure I was happy.” Her voice caught on her last word. “And he was right to send you. You saved me, and I am happy.”
“Actually, Til’ saved you,” I countered playfully.
Sal’ elbowed me in the stomach, hard enough to make me wonder whether or not she was being playful as well. She smiled, though, and turned her gaze up to the cloudy evening sky. “I wish you could see what I see,” she said softly. “Hundreds, possibly thousands, of tiny tendrils, almost invisible, all stretching out above us towards Bherin.”
“Are you seeing the Links to the rocks’ Source?” I questioned.
Sal’ nodded. “Their magic is beautiful, a translucent emerald, almost like your eyes. It’s a shame they represent such evil.” She sighed and lowered her gaze to the snowy street.
We arrived at the blacksmith’s, where two members of Sal’s squadron were standing guard. Though they cast dubious glares at me, they didn’t question Sal’ about my presence. With fists to their chests, they assured us that we’d remain safe through the night. After a strict argument from Sal’, they reluctantly agreed to focus on more important matters than protecting their ex-General, especially when she had no plans of staying in the cellar the entire night.
With Sal’s ball of light, we found the stairs leading down to the cellar in the back of the abandoned smithy. Sal’ extinguished her light as we stepped into the warm glow cast from the burning brick kiln. A circular metal pipe rose from the top of the kiln and curved into the wall, likely depositing its smoke outside. Still, the air in the room felt thick.
Hammers, chisels, tongs, aprons, and bellows hung all along the blackened stone walls. Two wooden quenching barrels sat beside the kiln, filled nearly to the brim with water. Anvils, metal ore, and completed metal works were laid out on tables and shelves throughout the relatively small space. In the center of the room,
someone had placed a down mattress covered with blankets and pillows. A plate filled with cheese and bread lay on the floor beside it, along with a tall metal pitcher of water.
“They really have you taken care of down here,” I noted, taking off my cloak and draping it across an anvil. I set my gloves beside it and held my hands before the kiln, enjoying the warmth on my skin.
Sal’ laid her wicker case on the floor and plopped backwards across the mattress. She reached over the side to grab a piece of white cheese and shoved it in her mouth. Her eyes closed as she chewed.
“Maybe I should reconsider stepping down,” she said around the mouthful of cheese. “After the past few days, I could use some more of this pampering.” She flipped over onto her stomach and propped her chin on her hands, watching me.
I dropped my hands from the kiln and unbuckled my scabbard to lay it beside my cloak. I walked over to the mattress and sat down, twisting around to rub Sal’s shoulders. She moaned with pleasure, stirring my passions in ways I wasn’t sure she wanted to explore yet. Even if this would be our last night together, I had no intentions of pushing anything. Just being with her, knowing she loved me, was all I needed.
Sal’ eventually pushed herself up and sat beside me. Dropping her hood, she wrapped one arm around my back and leaned her head against my shoulder. “Korin, I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” I replied, leaning my head to rest against hers.
“I was so worried about you. What happened after that night?” she asked, referring to the night she and Max had been taken from me.
“You tell me your story first; mine may take a while,” I answered with a wry chuckle.
Sal’ leaned back and looked into my eyes. The orange glow from the kiln highlighted her beauty, a beauty that ran much deeper than her physical features. “Fair enough. I’ve already told you that my father only sent me to Gualain to give the Council reason to award me Rank.” Her upper lip twisted in disgust. “Some from my squadron were elated to be kept from battle, but others felt cheated. Most wished to do their part to help stop the war, yet my father robbed them of that chance.”
There was a hate coating Sal’s words, like frost over a windowpane. Sal’ had talked poorly of her father before, but I was getting the feeling that there was something darker to their relationship than I knew.
“And what did your mother think of his plan?” I asked.
Sal’s gaze dropped from me, and she took a deep, quaking breath. “Korin, there’s so much I haven’t been completely honest with you about,” she admitted softly.
I lifted her chin and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. “It’s okay,” I told her. “You can tell me anything.”
And she did. Her mother was dead. Her father was an abusive bastard. As Sal’ spoke, my body heated with anger, and my muscles tightened. This time, there was nothing unnatural about it.
I couldn’t help but think about what Sal’ must’ve endured growing up, always being made to feel like she wasn’t good enough, struggling to live up to the lofty expectations thrust upon her. I’d seen Sal’ prove herself to be an amazing wizard when around those who supported her, who believed in her. It was him, his treatment of her, his physical and psychological abuse, that led to what was perceived to be her magical inadequacy. Nehril Fellway was extremely fortunate that I had a war to concern myself with.
“Korin?” Sal’ inquired, her voice unsteady. I realized I was staring blankly at the wall, my jaw clenched so tightly that I was lucky to have not chipped a tooth or two.
I shook my head and tried to let go of my anger to focus on Sal’. “I’m so sorry, Sal’. You deserve so much better.”
Sal’ smiled through misted eyes. “Thank you, Korin. Once this is all over, I don’t plan on returning to the Academy for any longer than it takes to retrieve Telis. I have no desire to see my father ever again. These past weeks have ripped away any shred of respect I still had for him.”
Upon my questioning gaze, Sal’ moved forward with her explanation. “After leaving the Academy, the plan was to set up a base outside of Gualain, never to actually enter the war. We were to offer healing and monetary support to refugees fleeing the fighting. However, we came across a sprawling camp of Josuan and Naolim soldiers several miles from the Gualainian border.
“They’d suffered major losses in their attempts to enter the kingdom. We set up camp within theirs, and I met with several of their military leaders. I learned so much about how dire things had truly become. That night, the camp was ambushed by Gualainian forces, including two eldrhims. Despite my squadron’s best efforts, hundreds died.
“That’s when I decided I had to do more. I couldn’t simply follow my father’s command when so many were fighting and dying. Those of my squadron who’d hoped for the easy way out, however, contacted my father through a Communication Stone, cowardly requesting to be pulled back. My father granted them their request; we were to return immediately.” Sal’s pouty lips pulled into a sneer. “He couldn’t risk losing his means of keeping the Grand Wizard title in the Fellway name.”
Sal’s body shivered, her eyes brimming with tears. I pulled her close, tears threatening my own eyes as I felt her pain.
“Sal’ . . .”
Sal’ raised her hand, silencing me. “I’m sure deep down, he has love for me. But that love has never come first. I pity him for that. Still, he is a great Grand Wizard, if not a good father.”
Sal’ wiped the tears from her cheeks and took a shuddering breath. “Those who wanted to fight stayed, while the others used the excuse of my father’s orders to return to the Academy, even if I wasn’t with them. I made sure they took all of our Communication Stones so that my father would have no means of reaching me. Then, with those of the squadron who remained and a few hundred soldiers, we marched into Gualain.
“Several battles were fought as we crossed the border, and many died, but we pressed on. We gained intelligence that King Lemweir was holing up in his castle in Bherin—” Sal’ stopped abruptly as I jerked back from her. “Are you okay?”
No, I wasn’t. Her words had rekindled the tempestuous, tortuous swarm of emotions that accompanied the association of my father’s name with the war. I was able to nod silently and lean back against her, though. Her eyes belied her doubt in my response, but she graciously went back into her story.
“Bherin became our target—King Lemweir, to be more precise. According to Menar’s accusations, I figured that Raijom had to somehow be in league with him.”
“You could say that,” I cut in. Sal’s eyebrows rose in question, but I gestured for her to continue.
Sal’s stern gaze made me think she wasn’t going to budge until I confessed what I knew, but her expression softened, and she continued. “During our march, we came within sight of Terafall. Those damned Gualainian forces drew us into battle here, using the innocent residents as a shield of sorts. They had no disinclination in killing any and everyone to lure us in. They knew we’d be handicapped by a compulsion to protect the town’s residents. They were right. If not for Til’ arriving with the dragons when he did, all would’ve been lost.
“Even if we hadn’t attempted to save the townsfolk, we had little chance against them. Those glowing stones . . . the wizards and zombies . . .” Sal’ trailed off, her eyes vacantly staring ahead.
“I was trying to lead those children you saw to safety, but the battle had grown too thick. We fell back to that house, thinking we could defend it.” Sal’ smiled and tightened her grip around me. “We saved them.”
I squeezed Sal’ back, my heart aching for all she’d had to endure, at what she would still have to endure by going to Bherin. “You truly are amazing,” I whispered with my lips pressed into her hair.
“Nearly half my men would disagree with you,” Sal’ retorted, a profound sense of gloom woven through her words. “Half of the Wizard Guard squadron that stayed with me is dead, Korin. Half. All dead because of me.”
I grabbed Sal�
��s shoulders and turned her towards me. Her eyes held so much pain in their arctic blue depths—pain that cut into me as if it were my own. Pain that she didn’t deserve to suffer.
“Sal’, they chose to fight. They chose to follow you despite having the chance to return to the Academy. They knew what they were getting into. They were willing to sacrifice their lives to end this war. And how many others have lived because of them? Because of you? Don’t think for even a single moment that you are to blame. The blame rests with . . . with the one who started this war.” I couldn’t bring myself to name my father, though I knew it would soon be my turn to reveal everything to Sal’.
“Thank you, Korin,” Sal’ replied softly, dropping her gaze. “I just wish that the strength I showed my men was still with me.”
I tilted Sal’s chin up with my finger. “That strength is still with you, Sal’. Sometimes, letting down the walls we build in times like these, thereby baring our weaknesses, is necessary so we don’t forget to feel.”
Sal’ sniffled and giggled at the same time. “That’s a pretty deep thought, Korin.”
“I guess a certain magic talking wizard squirrel has rubbed off on me a bit,” I replied with a shrug.
Sal’ wiped at her eyes with one hand, stifiling a yawn with other. “I guess it’s your turn now.”
“Sal’, we need some rest, and you look about ready to fall over.”
“No, I’m too worked up to sleep, no matter what my body and mind have to say. We have time yet before full nightfall, and I won’t be getting any rest until you tell me what you’ve been through.” Sal’ put a hand to my cheek.
I swallowed, a pang of dread settling in my stomach. Sal’ deserved to know the truth. Yet, how would she react once she discovered that the king she’d planned to attack was possibly my father?