King of Blades

by Ryder Bailey

  Before Jaimathan could even agree that meeting the ambushers head on was their only option, Shan shrieked and took to the air. They all turned back to the trees in time to see seven men run out at them. Braith threw up a shimmering red shield in time to stop three arrows aimed in their direction.

  "Do you want me to shield you or fight?" the sorcerer asked, not even looking back at Jaimathan.

  "Fight!" Jaimathan glanced at Fae, and was hardly surprised to see her no longer on her horse. As he looked forward to the attackers he saw her charging toward them in her pure white unicorn form, head lowered to strike with her silver horn. Shan was already fighting from the air, swooping in to slice at the attackers' faces with sharp talons and the occasional snap of a beak.

  Jaimathan charged forward on his bay gelding, Braith by his side. The attackers seemed startled by the Shifters, so much so that they lost interest in the men for a moment, until Jaimathan took one man's life with an easy swing of a sword. Braith used bolts of red fire to kill his opponents, and Fae was lashing out directly at the throats of the men she fought with her sharp hooves.

  In only minutes all seven attackers were dead.

  Fae Shifted back to her human form and Jaimathan jumped off his horse to pull her into a tight embrace.

  "Sometimes I wish you would learn to use weapons to fight," he said, trying not to remember the image of her in unicorn form rearing over an armed man.

  She gave him a tiny smile. "I told you I wouldn't abandon all the ways of my people," she reminded him. "We are all warriors. You know this."

  He nodded. "I understand. It just doesn't change how I feel." He pulled her into another tight embrace, and she didn't object when it turned into kissing.

  From nearby came the sound of a throat being cleared, then Braith's voice broke them apart. "We should go find our camp for the night. Shan says there is nothing more to fear for now. But my father tried to contact me when we were fighting, and I need to respond to him."

  "Can you find us a place to camp?" Jaimathan asked Shan, who was once again perched on the pack horse. Talking to the Shifters while they were in animal form had ceased being strange to him years ago.

  Shan gave a swift nod before once more taking to the air. The rest of them rode into the woods, Braith holding the fist-sized red gem he used to talk to Arin and speaking the spell that started the communication. Jaimathan couldn't hear the things Arin said, though he could faintly hear the older Guardian's voice. He could clearly hear Braith's side of the conversation, however.

  "I'm sorry. We had to get through a group of bandits. Yes, we're all fine. What do you mean am I sure they were bandits? What else would they have been?"

  There was a long, ominous pause. Jaimathan exchanged a worried glance with Fae.

  "So those could have been servants of Emperor Kemale? I don't want to ride after dark but I don't want to risk more of them being around either."

  Another pause, which filled Jaimathan with even more concern.

  "I understand. Yes. I know what my job is. I'll speak again when we cross the river."

  As soon as Jaimathan saw the faint red light fade from in front of Braith, he asked, "What was that?"

  Braith drew a deep breath before speaking. "There was a spy in the castle at Ryal. He was working for Kemale. He kidnapped one of the queens, but they found her quickly."

  "What's that to do with us?" Fae asked.

  "The spy knew that the queen is pregnant, which was not public knowledge. So it's likely that someone knew about us coming to them."

  "So he thought to do damage to Algoma as well by having me killed?" Jaimathan questioned.

  Braith shrugged. "I don't know. My father, and your mother, also," he added, looking at Jaimathan, "want us to reach the bridge tonight. There could be others waiting to attack us by morning."

  Jaimathan nodded. "Then we should continue."

  Shan fluttered through the trees to land once more on the pack horse.

  "You heard?" Fae asked the hawk.

  Shan nodded.

  "Perhaps you should take your human form," Fae suggested. "I suppose we're a foreign enough group without a large bird among us."

  Shan nodded again and hopped to the ground. Within seconds a much more human figure was standing there, one that immediately began rummaging in the packs for something.

  "I wish we could spell shoes to become part of our skin when we Shift like our clothes can do," Shan muttered, finally pulling a pair of boots from a pack.

  "Are you ready?" Fae asked after a few moments.

  Shan, no longer barefoot, climbed onto the pack horse and nodded. "To Phelin."

  It was nearly midnight before they reached the bridge crossing the river that marked the border between Algoma and Phelin. At some point along the way, Jaimathan had noticed he no longer felt the strange, overwhelming feeling of dread he had felt that morning. In fact, he hadn't felt it since they had killed the men who had attempted to attack them. It was certainly strange and he had no possible explanation for it. Perhaps he would never know where the sensation had come from.

  On each side of the massive stone bridge was a large guard tower, along with all the necessary structures to form a small fort. Soldiers were stationed on each side and served as protection for travelers when needed, and kept a watchful eye on the crossing.

  "Who is looking to cross at this hour?" a soldier demanded from the wall that surrounded the fort.

  "Crown Prince Jaimathan Cyra," he called back. "We wish to stay the night here and cross in the morning."

  The heavy wooden gate in the wall was opened and another soldier motioned to them. "We were told to expect you," he explained. "Your mother wanted to keep your journey from the general masses but she had to contact us."

  The man bowed as they passed through the gate and continued, "We don't have the greatest food here but you're of course welcome to it. We have rooms already waiting for you and we can arrange for baths if you'd like. And of course care for your horses."

  Jaimathan dismounted and nodded. "Thank you."

  He greatly appreciated having a bed to sleep in after a warm bath and a bland dinner. And he appreciated the privacy it offered even more.

  "We won't have anything this comfortable again for a while, will we?" Fae asked, her back pressed against his chest as they lay peacefully together.

  He kissed her neck. "Not until we reach Ryal."

  "Then maybe we should make use of this," she said suggestively, running a hand over him.

  "Again?" he laughed. "You do realize I'm not as capable as I was when we first met, right?"

  "Then look into my eyes," she replied.

  He laughed again. "Using my powers to your advantage?"

  "It's for your benefit, as well."

  With a smile he shifted so he could look into her blue eyes, deeper and deeper until he was surrounded by her complete essence. He touched her very soul with his, feeling the double pleasure that was his and hers combined. Through the haze of the soul gazing, their bodies moved almost without thought, moving by touch and need alone. They never broke eye contact, because he had felt the feeling of dissatisfaction that lasted for days after they lost the connection during these times of passion. She didn't feel it, only felt the pleasure that came with the contact of their souls. But it was overwhelming for both of them, taking their love so deep.

  Even as it finally ended, they kept their eyes locked, until he could bring his power back to himself slowly, so it didn't make him feel that unpleasant feeling of not properly closing off the contact.

  "Gods, Fae," he breathed as he closed his eyes and collapsed onto her.

  She sighed contentedly and wrapped her arms around him. "I love you."

  He released his own sigh and smiled. "And I love you."

  As they finally settled for sleep once more, Jaimathan thought about how he felt so much closer to Fae than he had even after their first lovemaking that night. It was how he always felt after using his powers with
her, and it would last for close to a month. Then, though he always felt love for her, it wouldn't feel as close as it felt now. That was the only time when they could do this, and he knew Fae felt it, too. Her sense of it wasn't as strong, probably because she didn't have the same magic he did, but she still felt some of it. That was how she always knew when it was time for this... whatever it really was.

  She cuddled close to him and he wrapped his arm over her, holding her gently against him. He didn't truly understand his powers – could he even call it magic? – but he'd been able to mostly control it and learn what he could do almost completely on his own. Arin had taught him basic control, but had been unable to really understand the magic himself.

  Maybe he would finally find an answer in Phelin. He didn't know where else to look. If the world's most powerful sorcerer, the Wielder of the Violet Power, couldn't help him, surely no one could.

  ***

  When Coulta left Anil's room he was only mildly surprised to find Wildas laying on his own bed. He was half-heartedly dressed in his clothes from the night before and grumbling to Star not to bother him. Coulta stepped over to the bed and saw that Wildas looked pale and utterly exhausted.

  "Not a pleasant night?" Coulta asked once Star had reluctantly left.

  Wildas ran a slightly unsteady hand over his face. "Four times. And she probably would have preferred more but I got sick off the wine. Only then did she take pity on me." He crossed his arms over his chest and stared up at the canopy over the bed. "Sex is nice and all, but I pray to all the gods that she conceived because I can't do this very often."

  Myri joined them, and Coulta was impressed to see that she looked rather uncomfortable. "I believe I took it at the wrong time of the month."

  Wildas sat up to stare at her, his hazel eyes wide. "You what?" His face went suddenly pale and he closed his eyes, one hand to his forehead, then he practically fell off the bed to stumble his way to the privy.

  "How much wine did you give him?" Coulta asked, shooting Myri a concerned look.

  She looked away and fiddled with her necklace. "It may have been a whole bottle. I didn't drink any and it's empty."

  Coulta sighed. "I suppose it's a good thing he doesn't have a court meeting this morning."

  "That's why I chose yesterday for the tea, in case he was exhausted. I didn't mean for him to be ill. I'll go make him a tea to help," she added.

  Coulta shook his head as he watched her leave the room. He hesitated, then went to his own room to get dressed for the day. When he returned, Wildas was sitting on the small cushioned bench below the window. He had his head resting back against the wall and his eyes were closed.

  "Can I do anything for you?" Coulta asked, leaning against the wall beside the window.

  "I'll be all right," Wildas mumbled. "I still need to talk with you and Shelton. About the prisoner. So I can pass judgment."

  Coulta placed a hand on Wildas's shoulder. "Making him wait seems fitting, though."

  "Not too long," Wildas argued. "Will make us look bad. This afternoon."

  Coulta gently rubbed Wildas's shoulder and nodded. "Should I let Shelton know?"

  "In a moment. Was Anil able to keep your dreams away better than I can?"

  "The same. I thought they would improve after I killed Varin, but they've gotten worse. They wake me before you can reach me, and I especially dislike that."

  Before Coulta had been born, his mother had known he was cursed by a sorcerer his father had angered. As someone who had magic that gave her some power over souls, she had worked through her labor pains to link his soul to that of someone who could ease the suffering caused by the curse. That soul had belonged to Wildas. An aspect of the soul-link was that they both appeared to each other in dreams whenever they needed love and comfort, though they hadn't known each other at first. The appearance wasn't immediate, however. It was almost as if their souls needed to call out for each other first. If Coulta's nightmares had grown so bad that Wildas didn't have the short moments needed to reach him, that had to mean something.

  He had taken to avoiding being alone at night because having someone there beside him comforted him when he woke, though not as completely as Wildas's dream presence could. Wildas was his preferred sleeping companion because his physical presence was the most soothing, but Anil and Myri were much more comforting than being alone. When he was alone the shadows consumed him.

  Wildas glanced up at him, and despite his miserable state, the genuine care in his expression was clear. "Does anyone know why the dreams are getting worse?"

  Coulta shook his head. "I don't know."

  "There has to be a better way to help you."

  "I've asked Myri and Shelton. Neither can help very much."

  "Brother Pelles?"

  "Why would he be able to help?"

  "I don't know that he would be able to, but if it's not something with a cure the healers know and it's not magic, maybe it's a spiritual thing. I've heard souls can haunt people just like they can haunt places."

  "I've never heard that."

  Wildas shrugged slightly. "That's what I was told when I started combat training. Soldiers are supposed to pray or be blessed by a priest before battle to prevent the hauntings."

  Coulta was still skeptical. He'd never heard of the gods worshiped in Phelin until he'd come to Ryal, and he still wasn't sure how many of the stories he believed. He went along with what was needed of him, regardless, and he tried to learn.

  "Being a godless murderer would probably lead to being haunted," he said quietly.

  Wildas reached up and squeezed his hand. "That isn't what I meant."

  "I know," Coulta replied with a sigh. "I'll speak to him."

  "Thank you."

  ***

  Wildas still felt horrible when he and Coulta met with Shelton that afternoon. The teas Myri had given him had only helped enough to get him moving on with his day and hadn't cured him. At least she had looked embarrassed about the situation.

  Shelton gave him a curious look when they entered his office, but didn't make a comment.

  Wildas sat down and sighed. "Somehow Myri got me to drink an entire bottle of wine last night."

  "I wasn't going to ask," Shelton told him. "I'm going to assume this has something to do with Anil being the one with child and not her."

  "An accurate assumption," Wildas grumbled. "So, what do you have to tell me about the prisoner? I asked Coulta not to tell me anything until we were with you."

  Wildas wasn't exactly surprised to hear the theory that Kemale was merely toying with them and hoping to do something that would improve his chances at defeating them later. The plan had been otherwise useless. Had there been any real belief that he would have given himself over to the kidnapper and ordered his loyal guards and supporters to stand down? He would have found another way to save Anil. He had enough people on his side to stop one man in whatever way was called for. The plan was doomed to fail from the start. Apparently the promise of an entire city as reward had been enough for the former spy to make the attempt.

  The only question was, if this was a game, what move was next – and whose move was it?

  6

  The news spread quickly through the city of Ryal. There was to be an execution that afternoon. A traitor was going to be put to death in the yard outside the castle. It drew a crowd of curious onlookers, and gave the yard an almost festival-like atmosphere. Street vendors sold treats, drinks, and trinkets to the crowd, using the strange fascination people seemed to have for death to their financial advantage.

  Everyone noticed the presence of the royal family and other nobles, but only those who managed to get close to the execution platform noticed that the queens weren't in attendance. Many wondered if that were normal procedure, or if perhaps there was more of a meaning to it. No one had seen any other such executions to know for certain. Perhaps the traitor had tried to harm them and that was why he was being put to death. Perhaps the rumors were true that the queens
were pregnant and such an event wouldn't sit well with them.

  The crowd grew quiet when the prisoner was led out by several guards. He didn't speak or resist, simply stood where they placed him and stared out at the crowd.

  A guard stepped forward and unrolled a scroll. He cleared his throat dramatically, then began to read in a booming voice, "For crimes against the royal family of Ryal, this man is stripped of his name and identity in the public eye, and sentenced to death. He has been charged with and confessed to working with our enemy, the Emperor of Dyrai, and using necromancy in an attempt to harm members of the royal family. He is condemned by the word of Grand King Wildas."

  He rolled the scroll once more as jeers and insults were lobbed at the prisoner. The condemned man did not react, merely continued to stare off into the distance, his gaze above the crowd. When the guards turned him, he didn't fight. He willingly went to his knees and allowed the guards to position him over the executioner's block.

  Those who had come to see a bloody spectacle were disappointed by the man's lack of emotion and the need for only one stroke of the blade to behead him. Some were still curious enough to follow the wagon that carried the body out to the forest outside the city, where it was dumped and left for food for the wild animals.

  Many people forgot what the man's crimes had been, being far more interested in the gruesome sights than the details, but others couldn't help but wonder what exactly the man had done. How had someone who knew the horrible magic of necromancy get close enough to the royal family to attempt to do them harm? And what did he attempt?

  It was something the city would speculate about for days, maybe even longer. And it would keep their minds off the impending war. Until they began to realize it was all a part of the same impending doom.

  ***

  They had crossed the river into Phelin two days ago, and for the past two days Jaimathan had been experiencing something he had never expected to experience: his mysterious magic was deserting him.

  He had still felt its presence when they had met the Phelinian soldiers who were to escort them to Ryal, but as they rode farther from the shore of the river that divided the two countries, he had felt it fading. He pulled Braith aside when they camped for the second night.