Magician In Captivity: Power of Poses - Book Three

by Guy Antibes

  “Only one attempted to get through here,” Tembul said.

  Trak poked his head in the stairway and saw the body of one of the bureaucrats he had rousted out. This time the man had a sword in his hand. He couldn’t help shaking his head.

  “How many Yellow Foxes were there in Beniko?” Trak asked.

  “No more than ten,” Ferikan said.

  “Magically, that evens things up a bit,” Trak said. He pointed with his sword and led everyone down the stairway. He felt bad about the loss of Boriak, but he refused to think that the Blue Swan died in vain. He created a shield that followed his sword, making the tip stick out a bit like the stem of a parasol. This way he could hold the shield and still use the sword to shoot whatever he wished.

  They descended past a landing, hearing footsteps clatter out of the way. Trak poked his head around the corner and saw a black-robed arm withdrawing from the open doorway.

  He looked up. “At least one more Vashtan,” he said quietly. “Be alert for someone flanking us.”

  Ferikan nodded and turned to look back up the stairs.

  Trak descended step by step. He had nearly reached the bottom of the stairway when a gout of flame splashed against the floor with tongues slipping through gaps in Trak’s shield. Luckily, he hadn’t stepped down or his feet would have been singed.

  He wouldn’t permit that to happen again as he descended to the landing. Another two bolts hit his shield at the top and the bottom simultaneously. The Vashtans must have thought he had to adjust his pose every time he moved forward.

  “Everyone okay?” he said looking behind him.

  Tembul patted the top of his head, smoking from the bolt of fire. “Not quite, but under control,” he said.

  “Get ready." Trak rushed out into the room, surrounded by ten or fifteen guards and three Vashtans. The magicians poured lightning bolts into Trak’s shield, but the onslaught only caused him to step back a half step. He aimed his sword and took care of two Vashtans with a bolt apiece before the third broke his pose and pushed his way back through the guards. Trak could hear his steps on the stairs leading down to the next floor.

  “Anyone want to surrender?” Tembul said from behind Trak.

  Swords clattered to the ground and a few guards joined the Vashtan down the stairway. Trak sent the Blue Swans to quickly search this floor for the enemy.

  “Sit with your hands on your heads,” Tembul said. Obviously, the Toryan had more experience than Trak at taking prisoners. Eleven men sat where they were. Sirul and Markik piled swords and knives next to the servant’s door.

  One of the men had more decorations on his uniform. Trak administered a truth spell.

  “Where is the Toryan princess?” he said.

  “In the Emperor’s personal armory with Shinowa and the Emperor.”

  “And others, I imagine?”

  The man nodded. “Yes.”

  “Where is the weapons room?”

  “One floor down in the West Wing.”

  Trak walked to the west side of the castle and saw light shining through the shuttered windows of the top level of the West Wing. An arrow flew up from the stairway and embedded itself into the window casing above Trak’s head, followed by a few more. Trak created a heavier shield and let the arrows clatter dully against the shield as he walked to the head of the stairway and looked down. He fired three needles of fire and dropped a trio of archers.

  Ferikan returned. “We have secured this level.”

  Trak nodded and walked back beside Tembul.

  “Up, all of you,” Trak said to the prisoners. “Walk down the stairs. Don’t run, or you won’t like the consequences.”

  Trak noticed the frightened faces of the surrendered men and women as they descended, three abreast down the stairway. There was an alcove facing south on this level of the castle, and Trak ordered Ferikan to herd their prisoners into that. He created a wide shield to protect his men’s backs as they stood guard.

  “Sirul and Markik, guard the prisoners. One to shield and one ready to kill,” Trak said. The sounds of fighting became stronger from below. “I think Jojo’s forces should be joining you soon enough.”

  Trak motioned to Ferikan and Tembul to follow him. Trak rubbed his hand over Tembul’s head. “Your hair isn’t very soft, now. The ladies won’t like that,” Trak said it to reduce tension, and if it didn’t work for Tembul, it did for him.

  “Be ready for surprises,” Ferikan said.

  “I’ve had enough surprises,” Tembul gave Trak a dirty look, and they made their way to the West Wing.

  From what Trak could recall of the plans, the West Wing started at this level, the top floor of the armory stretching nearly two stories high.

  Twenty guards clustered across the wide archway that led to the exterior corridor. The armory took up all the top level of the wing.

  “I’ve made it this far from the Emperor’s quarters,” Trak said to the defenders. “Chances are good that you will die where you stand. I worry about your future.”

  Half the men swayed visibly from where Trak stood. He could have done this previously, but the press of battle had forced him to forget.

  The soldiers re-gripped their weapons. Trak sensed their anxiety.

  “I won’t fight those who will lay down their weapons.”

  Eight of the guards stepped forward and threw their weapons into a pile. Trak saw an opportunity to scare a few more and pointed his blade at the pile of swords and fed lightning into the metal, fusing blade to blade. He stopped when he noticed his power declining. He couldn’t afford to let any more power drain if he would be fighting more Vashtans and Shinowa. Three more swords were added to the glowing pile.

  “Go and sit with your fellow guards in the alcove. Attack the two magicians standing guard at your peril.

  The guards quickly shuffled past Trak.

  An officer of the guard stood in front of the remaining Benninese. “Noble words from a man who stands behind the cowardice of magic.” He drew his sword. “Fight like a man, boy.” The officer sneered and puffed up his chest.

  “Be ready to push the other men back,” Trak said to those behind him. He willed his shield down and stood, relaxed in front of the officer. “I am the age between a man and a boy, true, but I also know how to handle a sword. Shall we dance?” Trak said. He hadn’t used that phrase since learning in Master Gio’s fencing school. He hoped it came out the way he intended in Benninese.

  His opponent turned red and attacked him with a flurry of thrusts. Trak deflected them to his left and to his right, never losing his balance. The officer’s brows went up. That kind of attack must have been successful on the Benninese practice field, since Jojo had first started sparring with Trak the same way in the mines. Trak parried another thrust and then deflected the next to his right and stepped up and poked the officer in the eye with his finger.

  The man dropped his sword and clutched his face. “You cheated!”

  “I won.” Trak said kicking the officer’s sword to the pile of swords. “You also have your life at the expense of a sore eye.” Trak looked at the other guards. He could see them fidget. “Another?” Trak said as he performed an abbreviated practice form. “If you are through, put your arms up in the air and walk to join the others. You may all live to guard another Emperor on another day,” Trak said, not knowing if that was true or not. Jojo might have all the men killed, but Trak would counsel against it. Most of these men were just doing their jobs.

  “That didn’t take long,” Tembul said. “You did that in less time than it would take to get my hair trimmed.” He clapped Trak’s shoulder as he looked back at the men joining their fellow captives.

  “Warming up. Our biggest test lies within,” Trak said. He felt uncomfortable being the leader among all of these men, but if he didn’t lead them on, more lives would be lost. After taking a deep breath, he stepped from the carpet of the main castle to the stone-flagged floor of the West Wing.

  The corridor had been
emptied of men. He didn’t even once think that the guards would have left the Emperor undefended. Trak still hoped that the princess survived. With the shield back up, Trak led them to the room he thought to be the armory.

  He tried the first solid wood door and found it locked. This time he would attempt an intimidating entrance.

  “Stand back,” he said loudly, but he stopped, raised his hand, and then said quietly, “There are two doors to this room?”

  Tembul nodded.

  Trak tiptoed to the other, beckoning the others to follow, and blasted the door open with a push of power. The door left its hinges and twirled to crash into a window on the other side of the room, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. He stepped inside after activating his shield.

  A gaggle of soldiers stood with swords and bows pointed towards the other door and were in the process of turning in Trak’s direction. The Emperor, Shinowa, two Vashtans, Nashi, as well as a few women, including the princess, stood behind the guards, totally exposed to Trak.

  The Vashtans and Shinowa quickly held hands and sent a bolt of lightning at Trak. The violence of the energy pushed Trak back a few paces, but he held his shield.

  “Sit on the floor, and you will not get hurt,” Trak said. He let a needle of fire hit the opposite wall above their heads and dissipate.

  “Worry!” Ferikan said.

  Shinowa fainted, but the two Vashtans stood, one holding onto the arm of the other while they formed poses.

  Before they could say a power word Trak spelled a blast of wind, and the entire entourage rolled across the floor and piled against the burning wall.

  Ferikan ran towards the pile of enemy and dispatched the two Vashtans before they had a chance to stand.

  “I guess we won’t be asking them any questions,” Tembul said.

  Jojo rushed into the room with armed men and women behind him and looked, eyes wide open and jaw dropped, at the scene.

  “Does this mean we can leave?” Trak said. He sat wearily down on the floor.

  Shinowa grinned, jumped up, glaring at Jojo, and began to pose, “Your magician friend is unable to help you now, Jomio,” he said. “I’ll take care of him and then you.”

  Still in a sitting position, Trak merely lifted the tip of his sword and sent a focused blast of wind that blew Shinowa back through a window, where he broke through the glass and the wooden shutters to drop to the switchback approach road far below.

  ~~~

  Chapter Thirty-One

  ~

  “OBVIOUSLY, HE DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT YOUR POSELESS POWER,” Jojo said after the Emperor and his retinue, including Nashi, had been taken to the dungeons.

  Trak figured that the Emperor would be in Lenis’s old cell or Hana’s. It wasn’t for him to decide what would happen to Bennin. He just wanted to leave. He stood, leaning against a wall. He had taxed his power and felt fortunate he wouldn’t have to use magic for a day or two.

  Guards had dragged a chair from the side of the room close to Jojo and Trak.

  “What happens to me?” the princess said, arching her perfect eyebrow.

  Trak was so tired that the woman’s beauty didn’t move him very much. “We will be heading for Torya, Eastern Torya, where you have friends,” Trak said in Toryan.

  “Into another civil war?” she said. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make her face look angry.

  “To avert a civil war, Your Highness,” Tembul said. He gave the princess a tightly controlled bow.

  She looked from Trak to Sirul. “Where is Lord Lenis?”

  “Safe,” Trak said. “If you will excuse me." He bowed and walked out of the large room. Jojo followed him. “What happens now?” Trak said to Jojo. “I thought it would be rude to speak Benninese in front of the princess.”

  Jojo looked at Trak appraisingly. “You made this possible.”

  “What possible? Your task has barely begun,” Trak said. “Bennin is currently unstable.” He thought back to all his political lessons from Misson Dalistro. “You will either bring the Emperor back to power, or you will have to kill him, and then there are those guards of the prison camps and everywhere else that you’ll have to find a way to pacify. Your people need reassurance, so renovating the bureaucracy will have to be handled delicately.”

  Jojo laughed. “You are a statesman, too.”

  “I had political histories drilled into my head a few years ago.”

  “I admire the driller.”

  “Misson Dalistro of Santasia. I think the two of you would get along nicely. As for me, I’ve read about coups before.”

  “Stay. Tembul and the other Toryans can take your princess to Torya.”

  Trak looked around at the castle. Jojo had been as honest as he could be and had opened up his life to poseless magic. He owed much to him, but Trak felt that perhaps Jojo had been paid back in full. “I’m tempted until I think of my two fathers. Perhaps I will return after they are released.”

  “If you do, you will be as welcome as a brother would be.” He grinned at Trak and gave him a big hug. “Let me know whatever you need for your trip.”

  “I will,” Trak said. “The princess will be collected tomorrow afternoon. If you would have someone pack her possessions, I would appreciate it. We will use the flyers to get to Homika and a ship north.”

  “You are responsible for saving my country,” Jojo bowed. “I will take your advice and proceed slowly. If you can, write me a letter from time to time to let me know where you are and what you are doing. I would do the same, but I don’t know where you will be.”

  Trak smiled. “I have no idea, either.” At least Trak had finally found a place where he would be welcome. One place in the world, and he just finished a fight to receive such an invitation. He sighed and bowed to Jojo before he teleported to the house.

  Hana sat on the porch in the dark, humming some tune tunelessly. Trak smiled and cried out, “Boo!”

  She screamed and covered her face with her hands and cringed. “Ghosts, stay away from me?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not a ghost, yet." He sat down beside her. “We will leave for Torya the day after tomorrow. Jojo has won.”

  “Won, eh?” Mori said, coming out of the mansion. “He will ruin himself and the country if he tries to run Bennin. Take me with you.”

  “Are you really serious?” Trak said.

  Mori nodded. “I can get my affairs settled today and tomorrow and be ready when you leave.”

  Trak scratched his head. “There is no way I can deny your request?”

  “None,” Mori said. “Jojo doesn’t need me, and I would rather be rid of him for a while. I can always return.”

  “How is Lenis?”

  “He sleeps like the baby that he isn’t. I guess you can tell him tomorrow that you are leaving,” Mori sat down next to Trak.

  “I intend to keep him asleep until we are on a ship to Torya. I don’t trust him.”

  Mori lifted the corner of her mouth. “I wouldn’t.” She put her hand over his and leaned against the wall. “Hero, tell me how you saved Bennin from the Vashtans.”

  ~

  At breakfast, Ferikan took Trak aside. “I would like to bury Boriak’s body in the jungle somewhere. We do much the same thing at home.”

  “You do that. I would feel privileged to take him on my flyer.”

  Ferikan nodded. “We have lost a magician to fly.” Trak noticed the trace of worry in his voice.

  “No, you haven’t,” Sirul said, joining them. “Princess Pullia is a strong magician.”

  Trak laughed. “Pullia? What kind of name is that?”

  “One she never likes to hear,” Sirul said, looking sorrowful. “Please let me fly on the opposite flyer from her.”

  “I can do that, too,” Trak said.

  Most of those in the mansion left to get what they would need to fly away. Trak walked through the market of Beniko, with his hood pulled back. People greeted him and bowed. Women came up to him and thanked him for saving the liv
es of their husband or son, but there were still plenty of Benninese who had died in the coup.

  Trak bought a few exotic trinkets for his fathers. He found a silk dress in the Benninese style that he bought for Valanna in hopes he would see her again.

  The next day, Trak teleported to the castle and met with Jojo, now dressed better than he had ever seen the man, in the Emperor’s court room. He had set up a table and chairs on the side of the room, leaving the Emperor’s throne empty.

  “Good move,” Trak said in Benninese to Jojo. Princess Pullia looked on with a disagreeable expression.

  “The Princess?” Jojo furrowed his brow, confused.

  “No.” He pointed with his chin to the throne. “Not sitting there.”

  Jojo nodded. “I thought about what you said all night long and received agreement from some trusted advisors who had returned once they heard of Shinowa’s ‘fall’ from power.” He laughed at his pun.

  Trak managed a smile. “Good. Keep listening to them. They have to be smarter than a teenager like me.”

  “False modesty,” Jojo said. “I apologize for underestimating you.”

  “Perhaps you did, and perhaps you didn’t,” Trak said. With the end of his mission staring him in the face, he felt let down. His adventure in a foreign land had not been the fun expedition in the jungle like he had thought. “I’ll take her now.”

  “We will leave, Your Highness,” Trak said in Toryan. She had a single trunk at her side.

  “We will ship the rest later this week,” Jojo said in broken Toryan, and then he shifted to Benninese. “There are many who are glad to see her go.”

  “I join in their glee,” the princess said in better Benninese than Trak could speak.

  Trak cringed at the malice in her voice. He nodded to a shocked Jojo, who actually showed a trace of fear on his face.

  “I will hold your hand to teleport you,” Trak said. He didn’t know what to expect when he violated the princess’s space. He remembered the anger on her face when Lenis left her rooms.

  She put out her hand. Trak lifted her single trunk on its side, so he could lay his hand other on it, and then they winked out.