by Guy Antibes
“I can speak Santasian, as well,” Trak said.
“You can? Good.” The man gave Trak the ghost of a smile, or it might have been a grimace, as he changed to a better rendition of Santasian. “You may sit while we talk.” The old man eyed Trak as he found the closest seat to the desk.
“I am King Basiul. We have no formal court in Kizru, if you were wondering. I’m just an old man administering the affairs of Torya.”
“Torya?” Trak said. “That’s what Cokasan used to be called.”
“The usurpers’ name for the continent? Toryans used to live all over this land before invaders came from Vashta to settle. We were driven from our homes and ended up taking refuge in the forest. We call where we have dominance Torya. You know some of our history?”
“Not much more than what you just told me.”
Basiul grunted. “You pose a dilemma for me, Trak Bluntwithe.” The man held up what looked like a handwritten report. “Nellus Fidelia is your father? A Pestle magician, your mother?”
Trak merely nodded.
“Not a bloodline that we particularly like in Kizru. Why did you come here when you escaped from the Magician’s Guild in Espozia?” The king narrowed his eyes at Trak.
Trak didn’t like the accusation in the king’s eyes. “I have nowhere else to go. I would be killed if I set foot in Pestle, since I’m under a death sentence in Bitrium. Santasia…” Trak shrugged, “would put me back into the guild.”
“Under Riotro’s command?” The king snorted. “Hardly a sane thing to do. What do you expect of us?”
“Refuge?” Trak said.
“Torya is not a nice place for strangers, even if they have a rare touch of Toryan blood rushing through their veins. You are not welcome in the city and will likely be expelled soon enough.”
The king looked at the report again, holding it out so he could focus on it better, and then he looked up at Trak. “Show me how you can manipulate flame. I want to feel your power.”
Trak furrowed his brow. “How can you feel power?” He’d never heard of such a thing before, but he recalled that Tembul seemed to know he was a powerful magician.
“It is a pose that I will assume while you are manipulating the earth’s power.” The king rose. Trak noticed that he was tall for a Toryan and stood as straight as Ben. “Do it. Now.”
Trak noticed that the king had assumed a pose with closed eyes. He didn’t see a choice but to do as his host commanded. It was a simple enough task. He put his right hand behind his back and extended his left with the little finger up. Muttering the power word, he willed a ball of flame into existence and tossed it into the air a few times before he concentrated and made the ball expand and contract, and then he extinguished it.
The king raised his eyelids. “Sit.” He walked to a window and looked out for a few minutes, making Trak squirm in his seat. “I would have never thought to see such an optimum blending of power,” he said as if to himself. He looked at Trak. “I can see why you were expelled from Bitrium. I imagine the Board wouldn’t be able to sleep with you around.” He seemed to chuckle for the barest of moments.
“The Santasians have no designs on your lands,” Trak said. He didn’t know if Ben or Neel would have a chance to speak to the king. “My companions come seeking an alliance between the loyalist Santasian forces and Torya.”
The king returned to his desk. “I already know that, and you know so little, boy. Torya will never ally itself with Santasia, but we aren’t meeting to discuss that. I have another problem that you can help me solve.” Basiul rang a bell at his desk.
Trak’s escort entered. “You will return to your friends,” the king said just before returning to his paperwork. He looked up. “We will talk later.”
~
The three Pestlans and three Colcanans returned to the king’s study. Trak noticed that Basiul’s desk had been cleared. The chairs that were in the room when Trak had his audience had been removed. The king hadn’t shown up yet, so Trak thought back on his conversations with the rest of his party.
Neel had received the same frosty treatment from a high-ranking Toryan. Ben had talked to the king and said he thought they had gotten along well enough. He had been tested as well. Rasia had a hallway conversation with Tembul, along with Able. Honor had two conversations with a woman who claimed to head the Toryan intelligence efforts. Most of her meeting had been answering questions and being rebuffed for asking questions of her own.
Trak wondered what the Toryans thought about them all. Other than Able, they were all very accomplished at what they did. Trak knew Able could fight well enough, but he had to admit that his erstwhile father lacked any special qualities. Perhaps that might be an advantage in these circumstances.
A door opened from the rear of the office and King Basiul walked in and sat behind his desk, followed by six men and women, who stood behind. Perhaps the other interviewers were among these courtiers. Trak looked at his fellow travelers. All eyes were on the king, but a man dressed in dark blue silks walked to the side of the desk. He was bald and a little chubby, but Trak noticed the shrewd, intelligent eyes.
“You have all been judged by members of our council…”
Trak furrowed his brow. If they were going to banish them, why do it in front of the king? Basiul didn’t look as confident as he had the previous day when he talked to Trak. Had something happened? He turned his attention back to the speaker.
“We will let you help us keep the Kandannans from invading Toryan lands, but you will not remain in Kizru. At an appropriate time, there is more work for some of you to perform for King Basiul.” All eyes swiveled to the king, who nodded at the man in blue speaking to them.
“You will enter invasion areas as a unit and will remain that way. Toryans will not be eager to talk to you, but I will provide you with a liaison who will interface with our own commanders. I am not a military man and cannot provide you with further information. Your confinement will be more relaxed for the next three days while we gather intelligence for your assignments.”
“But will you help Santasia?” Ben said.
Basiul shook his head. “Not as allies, Strength Nomia. Fight the Kandannans with us and you will perform the function of aiding Santasia while we keep them out. You six interlopers will represent your respective countries for a time within our forces. Any thought of an alliance is futile, but Santasia and Torya have the same enemy this time, so we fight to mutual benefit. That might not be the case in future conflict.”
Ben bowed his head. “That is an acceptable decision.”
Basiul’s eyes flashed with anger. “Acceptable? To us?” He shook his head and looked at Ben with more malice than his words had indicated. “There is no acceptable on your part. You live and fight at our whim. You may go.”
The six of them were led out of the king’s study and shown back to their quarters. There they found serviceable clothing in the style that the scouts wore. They were told to change from the court silks.
During their dinner, Tembul entered the room and sat down at the long table with them. He sighed before he looked at each one of them.
“I have been given the assignment to lead you into battle,” Tembul said, speaking as if it were a jail sentence.
“We won’t disappoint,” Neel said, “if we can get our weapons back.”
Tembul nodded. “Your interviewers all conceded that you speak the truth. You are magicians of high power.” He nodded to Honor, Neel, Ben, and Trak.
For some reason, Trak let out a sigh of relief. He had worried that the Toryans wouldn’t believe a word they said.
“So, we have three days before we head north. Our assignment is to help my people close off the northern pass called Lazanti by the Santasians. The highest concentrations of the Kandannan army are on their side of the pass poised to invade. The magician Riotro has been in the west training Kandannan magicians.
Ben served himself some food. “So six against thousands? Those are not very good odd
s.”
Tembul turned to Trak. “The soldiers that passed us on the way to fight our captors—how many were they?”
“Two or three thousand. I couldn’t count them all.”
“Those are only part of our Northern Force. We will be facilitating their success. I have permission to use whatever tactics that you convince me to use.”
Trak couldn’t hold back a grin. “Attack platforms.” He rubbed his hand. “We fight them from the air.”
Tembul patted Trak’s hand. “An energetic notion, but you saw how we brought down your platform.” The Toryan shook his head. “We can’t rely on the Kandannans not to know a similar spell.”
That brought a nod from Trak. “We have three days to find a shield that will repel the effects of that pose.”
“Repel?” Tembul furrowed his brow.
“We have three…” Trak looked at Honor, “…and maybe four sources of magical knowledge. Certainly if we try, we can develop a way to keep the flyers aloft. If nothing else we can scout out enemy positions and relay the information more quickly if we use our flyers. We can project powers from the platforms, as well.”
“And flank the Kandannans with ease,” Neel said, his eyes now alight with excitement. “Great idea, Trak.”
Ben nodded. “We have three Innovators among us, four if Honor can exercise her creativity. Your knowledge of Toryan poses gives us the ability to test our capabilities. What say you, Tembul?”
The Toryan smiled and narrowed his eyes. “And we can use these ideas once you leave us…” He took a huge bite of bread and nodded his head. “Tomorrow at first light I will lead you to a practice ground. What do you need for platforms?”
“Wooden doors will work well. Maybe bind two lengthwise to create more of square,” Trak said. “Perhaps railings to keep people from falling off.”
Tembul nodded. “It will be done as you say. I would like the five of you to stay here and organize what we should practice. I will borrow Trak from you. Tonight he should at least get a flavor of his Toryan cultural heritage before he heads north.”
~
Trak followed Tembul back to the castle and to the training grounds that he had seen from his changing room. Tembul introduced him to a few of the men and women there. He didn’t understand any of the language other than figuring out what names were exchanged.
“I have given them instructions to make the platforms and line the bottoms with metal sheets that will stop any fire projected by our enemies. That is my initial contribution to our fighting strategy. Now let us walk the streets of Kizru. I have much to show and tell you.”
What could Tembul want to tell him? He apparently wanted Trak alone, and that set him to wondering why they treated him differently from the others in his group? Trak didn’t like being apart from everyone else.
Although others might perceive him to be a loner at The Blunted Sword and elsewhere, Trak didn’t see himself in that role. He wanted to learn, and Neel had always taught him that there is more to be learned by observing than participating, but that didn’t mean that Trak didn’t want to participate. He quite enjoyed his time with Master Gio’s swordsmen in Espozia and even saw the benefits of the rather uncomfortable time he had spent with Madame Barazzi.
He wondered what the Toryans thought of him. Ultimately, well enough for Tembul to take him on this walking tour of Kizru. The spring night was very pleasant. Trak enjoyed the lanterns with multicolored panes. He didn’t much care for the severity of Bitrium. Toryans were more lively, even more so than the Santasians.
Even though he didn’t understand the language, he could tell from the babbling that the Toryans enjoyed their lives, even if they were geographically confined to forest lands on both sides of the spine of mountains that ran up and down Cokasan.
The thought of both sides of the spine stayed with Trak as the Toryan took Trak inside a drinking establishment. Trak had no idea how to order in Toryan.
“Do you have beer or ale?”
Tembul nodded. “We have enough room for many small fields of grain, although our alcohol products are not as good as what is produced in Santasia. It still can smooth out the ruffles in your mind.” He smiled, as two large tankards of amber liquid were set between them on a little table next to the wall of the busy tavern.
Trak took a sip and winced. He agreed with Tembul’s assessment. His ale tasted little better than the watered beer the Kandannans had given him. Too bad the Toryans did little trading with Santasia. Ale would be a good place to start, he thought.
“Don’t drink too much. This might not be up to your expectations, but it is potent enough.” Tembul took a long pull and put the tankard down, wiping his upper lip.
“I wondered something,” Trak said. “What about the Toryans on the Kandannan side of the mountains? How do you coordinate with them?”
Tembul looked up from examining the inside of his tankard. “What?”
“How much help do the Toryans on the western side of the mountains give?”
Tembul colored a bit. “They don’t.”
“Why not? Don’t Toryans control the mountains on both sides?”
“Well, communications are difficult with the mountains and all.” The Toryan looked away.
Trak took another sip of the wretched ale. “So will we be fighting Toryans that fight for the Kandannans? How good is their magic?”
“That wizard in the advance unit? He learned his magic from a Toryan,” Tembul said.
Now Trak had a better idea why the Toryans had let them fight against the Kandannans. He didn’t blame Toryans for not wanting to fight Toryans, but withholding this information would have put them at a disadvantage.
“What do you call your western brothers?” Trak said.
Tembul looked away. “Kandannans.”
“Do they mate with Kandannans?”
Tembul took a sip and nodded. “It is looked down upon, but still there are few children of mixed race conceived.”
“Does that make them more powerful than you? This interbreeding?”
“No. Toryans are more powerful magicians than Kandannan-Toryan children,” Tembul said. “It is a touchy subject among us. The invaders who took over our lands concentrated their magicians in Colcan at one point. Unions between Colcanan and Toryan mates often produced stronger magicians, but such is not the case to the west.”
“Like my father, who was ejected from Torya and a young age?”
Tembul showed embarrassment, and well he should. Trak didn’t feel comfortable with the Toryan attitude towards foreigners, but he bit his lip. He didn’t think that Tembul took him out for the evening to reveal the Toryan insular culture.
Tembul stood up. “Time to move on,” he said and walked out of the tavern, making Trak follow him like a pet dog. They walked through the streets, and then Tembul walked into the courtyard of a house closer to the palace.
Trak still followed a step or two behind. The door closed behind him. Tembul turned around. “There are some people that you need to meet.” He walked to his right and knocked on a door and waited for someone to come.
Trak looked around at the courtyard. The roofline extended to make a wide veranda looking in towards the center. Trak walked past a large planted circle in the middle of the courtyard. If the Toryan’s used carriages, one could drive around the courtyard and leave through the entrance without backing up. Such an arrangement would make a nice secure entrance to an inn, he thought. This clandestine meeting seemed to be the purpose of his nighttime excursion.
A stab of yellow light entered the dark courtyard though the opened door. Someone spoke in Toryan and Tembul beckoned Trak inside.
He followed three other men dressed as nobles, along with Tembul, across a small foyer and into a large office. It reminded him of the king’s office.
“This is an unofficial meeting,” Tembul said, looking at the other men as they brought chairs in front of the desk so all of them could sit. “I’ll have to translate.”
; Trak felt totally confused. First he learned about a schism among the Toryans and now this secret meeting with nobles.
The man behind the desk said something. Trak looked at Tembul, who had sat next to him.
“The men before you represent the king, but what you learn here is not to be discussed with your companions. Do you agree?”
“And if I don’t?” Trak said.
Tembul translated to the others, but he didn’t need a reply. “Then we will leave now. If you want refuge in Torya, I suggest that you listen. What you will be told might enable you to earn a place amongst us.”
Trak thought the Toryans didn’t want anything to do him. Could their rejection be a facade? He didn’t know if this offer was for real or not, but what could he do? He didn’t know anything before he entered this room. Like his conversation at the tavern, any knowledge might help them fight the Kandannans.
“I agree as long as the information will not affect our ability to fight the Kandannans.”
Tembul looked relieved. He smiled and patted Trak on the shoulder. “It won’t.”
“We need you to go to Bennin and rescue a Toryan princess,” Tembul translated.
“Why do you need me?” Trak said.
“The Bennins can read power flow, just like we can. They haven’t allowed a Toryan to speak with the princess, who, they claim, wasn’t abducted.”
Trak shrugged his shoulders. “I understand that, but why all this?” He looked around at the room. “Why this secrecy?”
Tembul translated Trak’s reply and all of the men looked uncomfortable, maybe even nervous.
“She isn’t our princess and we want you to kidnap her and bring her to Kizru.”
“Why me?” Trak said.
“You are very powerful as a wizard and not Toryan. Only you can work your way into their society and get close enough to spirit away the princess.”
Trak had figured out why from the way Tembul had phrased his answers. “She’s a princess of western Torya, right?”
Tembul nodded, but Trak continued, “She’s not going to be willing to come to Kizru and you want me to travel thousands of miles to bring back an unwilling captive. Do I have that right?”