03- A Sip of Magic

by Guy Antibes

  “Are you as tired as I am?” she said.

  “There are a few hundred monks and acolytes out there. They will figure out something. The soldiers fight like they are possessed, but that’s because many of them are under compulsion spells.”

  “Yeah. All they need is metal over the ladders rather than wood and they will overrun us.” She shook her head.

  A soldier ran to Jamey who stood twenty feet away. “Breach! The enemy returned quickly on the south with more ladders and there is fighting on the wall. By now there must be soldiers in the city!”

  Pol got up to see another wave of men carrying even more ladders. He looked at Jamey. “I’ve got to go to the castle.”

  “Get going, man,” he said.

  Pol grabbed Shira’s quivers. “We have to go now. The castle is in danger!”

  They ran down the steps to where the horses waited. The hitching post was empty. Someone had taken the horses as soldiers and citizens began to fill the streets like ants in a disturbed nest.

  They fought their way through the craziness and looked up the boulevard leading to the castle. The doors were open. Men fought on the castle wall.

  “Go to the Queen!” Pol left Shira behind as he rushed to the castle. He drew his sword and ran past clusters of fighting. The soldier Seen, whom he had brought with him and Queen Isa, lay dead on the ground near the gate with both North and South Salvan bodies.

  A castle guard stopped. “Your soldier opened the gate when he heard shouting. I guess you can’t call him a traitor, but he met a traitor’s end.” He took off again.

  Pol took a deep breath. It was all happening so quickly. Pol had made a big mistake bringing Seen into the castle. Val had wanted the man killed, and now Pol could see why. The castle had been breached with little effort on King Astor’s part. He had made a mistake again, and that led to the bitter taste of betrayal.

  ~~~

  CHAPTER FORTY

  ~

  POL REALIZED HE COULDN’T BLAME HIMSELF at the moment and concentrated on finding his father. Whenever he saw a Guardian’s tabard, he killed monks without a pause. The breach didn’t result in a flood of invaders, but there seemed to be more than enough soldiers fighting in the courtyard. He ran up the steps and into the castle.

  There were too many fights leading up to the royal chambers. Pol slipped through the kitchens. No one fought there, but the cooks, including Paki’s mother, were huddled in a corner, sitting on the floor.

  “Stay there. Don’t try to fight,” Pol said. Any sane man would keep the castle cooks alive.

  He ran out the door and into the gardens. Fewer instances of fighting stopped him on the way towards the back doors that led up to King Colvin’s study.

  Pol turned down the path to his mother’s memorial statue and found King Colvin and two guards fighting off two or three times as many soldiers. Pol killed the monk who led them first. He tweaked the area to remove any mind-control spells. It didn’t seem to make a difference. One of the North Salvan guards went down. Three of the soldiers turned to fight Pol. He did all he could to use his pattern-master skills, but he couldn’t instantly defeat them all. He gasped when he saw his father pierced by two of the South Salvan soldiers.

  The shock of that image put Pol into a frenzy of action. Time stopped as he moved in and slashed and thrust at the attackers. In a moment, only the remaining North Salvan guard and Pol stood, swaying from all of the activity.

  Pol went to his father’s side. The King’s eyes flickered open. “Pol. My son.” He put his bloody hand on Pol’s face. “I’m sorry all this had to happen. I became greedy.”

  “Astor…”

  “No, I was greedy before him. It’s all my fault.”

  “Not all,” Pol said, his eyes blurry with tears. He ran his senses over his father’s wounds, hoping to patch him up, but taken together they were beyond his skills.

  “Whatever. Now is not the time for an argument. My last wish is to burn my body here, behind the statue. I took all of the ashes from Molissa’s pyre and spread them in this alcove. Burn me here, so I can join her in death.”

  “You’re not going to—” Pol stopped speaking when he felt life leaving his father. King Colvin shuddered his last breath.

  “My Prince…” the guard said.

  “First, I’m going to make this alcove his funeral pyre. Help me hack some branches.”

  In a moment, the King’s body was stripped of his armor and jewelry and covered with branches. The shrubs would grow back, Pol thought.

  He put out his hands and created magician’s fire, just as Val had taught him a few months ago and just as Malden Gastoria had used on his mother’s pyre. The green fire instantly lit the branches, and soon the flames consumed his father’s body.

  Pol and the guard looked at the conflagration. He looked at the guard and said, “Hide somewhere or surrender. Tell Grostin what happened here when he returns. It was the King’s last request.”

  “I know it was, Prince Poldon.”

  Pol didn’t have the strength to correct him. He left the smoking pyre and ran into the castle, back into the fighting. He didn’t have time to grieve, he told himself as he ran through the corridors towards Queen Isa’s quarters.

  The enemy had clustered around the doors. Pol fought into their backs, making his way towards the door. He recognized Shira fighting on the other side of the soldiers. She gave Pol a solemn nod as they continued to make quick work of the cluster of attackers at Queen Isa’s door.

  With the last soldier eliminated, Pol looked down at the body beneath his feet and gasped at the sightless eyes of Kolli. He bent down and closed her eyelids.

  “In here,” Horker croaked. He bled in a number of places. His hand still held a sword, while he leaned against the doorpost. Pol quickly took care of the worst of his wounds.

  “Wash him off,” Queen Isa said, as she dabbed at the blood on her clothes.

  “We have to leave.” Shira said. “You don’t have time to find your father.”

  “I already have,” Pol said. “I already have.” He grabbed a couple apples from the Queen’s quarters to give him some energy.

  Pol led them out the door to the garden, past the memorial. The flames had died down, leaving a column of smoke and red embers. The guard had already left.

  “My father’s pyre. He died defending my mother’s memory,” Pol said. He didn’t now if it was true, but it sounded right. “I know of a secret gate.”

  Pol led them through sporadic fighting to the back gate where Paki and Pol had left the castle grounds more than a few times. He used his magic to lock it when they left. Pol led them through the small orchard.

  “I used to play along here with Paki. I guess that ended up being very useful,” he said.

  He found the gap in the dense vegetation and led them down the rough rock cliff that faced the docks.

  “You’re not out of practice, Queen Isa,” Pol said as he helped the still-wounded Horker negotiate the steeper part of their descent.

  They ended up in the fallow garden of a ramshackle house. Pol led them through some twisty lanes, and then they entered the large dock-facing square from behind a warehouse.

  “You do know your Borstall,” Shira said.

  “As I am sure you are quite familiar with Tishiko.” Pol looked at people filling the square. “The fighting hasn’t reached here yet.” That made sense, since King Astor’s goal was his father and Isa. They moved along the edges of the square and then tried to fold into the crowds as they made their way to the only ship that still floated at the dock. People crowded around the gangplank, pleading for passage. Pol pushed his way through the crowds. He had to gently tweak a few people out of the way. Paki and Kell stood with bare swords at the gangplank, keeping the crowds back.

  “The Prince,” one of the people muttered as the crowds parted letting Shira and Isa assist Horker aboard.

  Pol stood alone at the bottom of the gangplank. “I’m sorry, but we must be off. This sh
ip is headed for a distant port, so we can’t take any of you. Be cooperative to the soldiers. The Emperor will arrive in a few days, and then you no longer have to do what the South Salvans say.”

  “Soldiers!” Shouts increased as the first units of the enemy ran into square.

  The crowd began to rise up the gangplank. Pol jumped aboard, being the last to get on the ship, and tweaked the gangplank in half. It plunged into the frigid water, along with a few citizens. He ran to the stern, and patterning the air itself, he turned and tweaked a gust of wind. The ship lurched forward, away from the dock.

  Pol created a shield to cover the back of the craft as spears, thrown by soldiers wearing the uniforms of acolytes, stuck in the hardened air until the ship had moved out of range.

  As Shira put her arm through Pol’s, she said, “See? You taught them too well.”

  “They are still alive. Maybe some will survive the Emperor’s army,” Pol said. He looked at the disheveled appearance of everyone in his party, and then back at the crowds at the dock. At least, he didn’t see any large-scale fighting. Perhaps his last words to them had sunk in.

  As they moved farther out, Borstall Castle came into view, perched on the cliff that they had used to escape. Pol’s eyes were drawn to a thin trail of smoke. That could be the last vestige of his father’s pyre.

  The burden of his failure weighed him down. Pol had made mistakes before, but this? He had killed his sister and allowed the South Salvans to end his father’s life. The trip to Borstall hadn’t made a bit of difference.

  He couldn’t help but take a deep breath and wipe away a tear. He hoped that history would be kind to the role he had just played.His body felt drained of energy and his spirits were every bit as low.

  Shira stood by him. “Your father’s pyre?” She pointed to the smoke.

  Pol nodded. “It was all for naught. In the end, King Astor finally got his way. He could be sitting on my father’s throne right now.”

  “It will be a very, very short reign, if that’s the case,” Queen Isa said walking up to them, bracing herself as the ship bobbed on the waves. “Hazett will not tolerate his existence after this.” She patted Pol’s head. “You did what you could.”

  “But it wasn’t good enough,” Pol said.

  Shira looked into his eyes. “What was good enough? Did you expect to conquer fifteen thousand soldiers on your own? You weren’t commissioned to stop them, just get word to the Emperor. Only because of you did that happen, only because of you.”

  Pol looked into her eyes and then at Queen Isa. Horker sat on the deck looking miserable, and Paki and Kell were already hugging the railing in distress. He had just taken a first step downward towards melancholia, and the two women stopped that. His friends were alive, he had saved Grostin and Amonna, saved Queen Isa, and he had cured Val of the curse, which led to the Emperor beginning his march, albeit a little late.

  In the Emperor’s eyes, he probably had achieved great success. His only blemish would be King Colvin’s death, but Pol had reconciled with his father and was able to carry out his very last wish. If he hadn’t accepted Val’s mission, his father’s head would be decorating the front gate. That was the perspective he had to accept.

  He had just taken a first step downward towards melancholia, and the two women stopped that. His friends were alive, he had saved Grostin and Amonna, saved Queen Isa, and he had cured Val of the curse, which led to the Emperor beginning his march, albeit a little late.

  Shira gently slapped Pol on the side of the head. “Don’t feel so sad. I can see it written all over your face. We made it out,” she said.

  “And now we don’t know what will happen, but we will find out together.” He gave Shira a smile and put his arm around her to give the Shinkyan a kiss in front of everyone.

  Behind him he heard Paki feed the fishes. It was going to be a long voyage to Volia.

  ~~~~

  If you liked A Sip of Magic, be sure to leave a review wherever you purchased the book.

  Excerpt from Book Four of the Disinherited Prince Series

  The Sleeping God

  ~

  CHAPTER ONE

  ~

  SHIRA, THE SHINKYAN SEEKER, LOOKED FROM THE STERN OF THE SHIP. Her straight, and short black hair flitted this way and that in the cold ocean breeze. “I’ve grown to hate waves and whitecaps,” she said.

  “You wanted to sail on the ocean,” Pol Cissert said. He wore a knit cap, bought from a sailor to cover his light silvery-blond hair.

  “But not for two-and-a-half weeks,” she said. Pol followed her as she turned around to gaze at the port city rising up from the approaching docks. “Do you have any idea where we are going?”

  “The Penchappy Mountains,” Pol said. “Part of my family comes from there,” he shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll have to do some Seeking to find them.”

  “Once that’s done, I’m anticipating a leisurely trip across all of Volia on our way back to Eastril,” Shira said. “I’m up for it. We’ll have a vacation, just like the adults.” She slid her arm through Pol’s.

  “Adults?” Pol asked.

  She nodded. “In Shinkya, the adults go on vacations, or maybe you might call them retreats, where they learn new things or meditate. Meditation is big in Shinkya. You and I need a diversion.”

  Pol smiled at the thought of a pleasant diversion when the ship shuddered as it slid into the dock.

  “Pol Cissert?” A man called out from the dock. He looked vaguely familiar. He was tall and looked very fit. Pol searched his memory to recall where he had seen him before. Then he remembered meeting Valiso Gasibli for the first time with another man in Malden Gastoria’s chambers in Borstall Castle. It seemed like ages ago.

  “Namion Threshell?” Pol called out.

  “Ah, I’m glad to see you. I have a message from Emperor Hazett III of the Empire of Baccusol.” Namion motioned that Pol come to him.

  Pol was surprised at that. He made his way through the sailors, busy securing the ship, and ran down the makeshift gangplank they had to fashion after Pol destroyed the old one back in Borstall when they fled city to evade South Salvan invaders.

  “You look surprised,” Namion said. “Birds take a week or so to make passage. The Emperor sends four or five, and usually three or more arrive. I have good news.”

  “Wait for my companions,” Pol said.

  It didn’t take long for Paki Horstel, Kell Digbee, Horker, Shira, and Queen Isa to cluster around the messenger.

  “The Emperor arrived two days after you fled. His magicians had devised a way to eliminate the Tesnan spells, which reduced the fighting. I guess you know what they are; it isn’t mentioned in the message. Grostin will be King, and the Emperor invites Queen Isa to return on this same ship to assume the throne of South Salvan.” He turned and bowed to Queen Isa. “Actually, I made up the invite part. You are commanded to do so. South Salvan and the Empire need you, My Queen.”

  “My husband?”

  “Executed. That’s all the message says.”

  “I guess we will all turn around and go back.” The Queen raised her hands and let them drop.

  “Not me,” Pol said. “I’m going to tour Volia with Shira.”

  “Kell and I will come along,” Paki said.

  “So will I,” Horker said.

  “No, you won’t,” Queen Isa grabbed the former Tesnan monk by his ear. “I need a guard among all those love-starved sailors. You’re coming with me. That’s a royal command.”

  Horker looked helplessly at Pol.

  “She needs someone to fetch and carry, Horker,” Pol said, remembering that was the reason why Horker had brought Shira and him along in his little retinue when they left the Tesnan monastery.

  Shira giggled. “Pol’s right.”

  Horker bowed to Queen Isa. “My Queen.”

  “That’s better.” She looked at Pol. “You deserve more than being restored to your previous title, but as Queen of South Salvan, I will make you a Duke,
with lands set aside. I am sure Onkar’s estate is empty. He had no family, so don’t worry about displaced heirs.” She took Pol’s hand. “I’ll have it supervised for you. Please make sure you spend some time at your estate from time to time, Duke Pol, on your way to visit me.”

  Pol shook his head. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “I am Queen. Don’t talk back!” she said. “I would be dead without you.”

  “I know,” Pol said. He brightened up. “Kelso will be heading to Yastan without a real destination. Give him the estate. He’s a relation of yours, anyway. I won’t need it in Volia.”

  Isa nodded. “I’ll give him some other title and have him manage your properties as well. Will that be acceptable?”

  “Very,” Pol said. He knew he couldn’t win against the Queen.

  Shira squeezed his arm. “Can I sweep the floors of your new manor, Duke Pol?” she said with a playful whine in her voice. “I’ve become an expert at fetching and carrying.” She looked at Horker and playfully narrowed her already narrow eyes.

  Pol put his hand on hers and squeezed back. “We have a continent to tour with two other friends. We will need chaperones. One I trust and the other…” Pol looked at Paki, who couldn’t help but grin.

  Namion looked amused at their conversation. “You anticipated the Emperor very well. Since Hazett III knew it would be awkward for you to return to North Salvan, he has commanded me to escort you through Volia. He thinks it would be an excellent idea for you to have an understanding of this continent. I promise to be a good guide, as I am not without capability.” He bowed again to Queen Isa. “I am sorry I won’t be accompanying you.”

  Pol had a good idea of Namion’s capabilities. “You will teach the four of us a few Seeker tricks?”

  “Tricks?” Namion said, feigning confusion. “You are all Seekers? Of course, I’ll be happy to be your guide since I know five of the major languages spoken in Volia.”

  “Languages?” Shira said.

  “There are seven spoken on the continent. You will allow me to accompany you? Please do, I’d rather not be punished for ignoring an Imperial directive,” Namion said. He didn’t look serious, but Pol would not expect the man to ignore an order from his Emperor.