The Wizard and the Warlord (The Wardstone Trilogy Book Three)

by M. R. Mathias

  Hyden held out his arm for Talon to land on. Already he and the hawkling were communicating mentally in a way that was second nature to both of them. Talon landed, and worked his way to Hyden’s shoulder. Hyden absorbed Talon’s thoughts as if he were drawing a breath into his lungs.

  He looked up at Borg and cringed through his sheepish grin. “Make that six humans, two elves, a dwarf and a living statue.”

  “What?” Borg asked, his expression incredulous. “If there were more of you in these mountains, I would know.”

  Hyden chuckled uneasily. “An elf and a human monk are a little over a day behind us. They are what’s left of Princess Telgra’s party. I have to admire their persistence.”

  Borg snapped a command in the old language. The great wolf, Yip, listened alertly and then went bounding away. Borg wasn’t showing distrust, Hyden knew; the Southern Guardian was upset that someone was in his land without his knowledge. To Hyden’s surprise, a pair of chitter birds came spiraling down. They warbled around the giant’s head, whistling and chirping intensely.

  “Dien!” the giant called out so loudly that the birds darted a few feet away.

  Yip, who was already tearing up the far valley side at breakneck speed, heard the command and slowed himself to return. “It seems my messengers are growing lax.” Borg chuckled. “It is as you say. Do we divert them, leave them behind, or do you want to wait for them?”

  Hyden sighed. “I think we’ll wait.” He took a piece of dried meat from his pack and fed it to Talon. The hawkling ate it greedily. “I only hope King Aldar will shelter us for the winter. I never intended for the group to grow this large.”

  “He wouldn’t refuse you anything, Hyden Hawk.” Borg gave a booming laugh. “As a matter of fact, he might even surprise you.”

  “Surprise me?”

  “I’ll not say more about it.” Borg turned and started leading them toward the pass where the others were. “I wish I could join your quest.” Borg’s voice was sincere. “I’m anxious to see how your group fares after you leave the Leif Repline and King Aldar’s protection.”

  “Doesn’t King Aldar reign over all of the Giant Mountains?” Hyden asked. A sudden worry poked in his gut, like a pinprick in a wineskin. The subtle warning in Borg’s tone was unmistakable.

  “He does,” Borg spoke as they walked. “But not all giants are civilized. Nor are all parts of these mountains rulable, especially the northern reaches near the Wedjak. How do you reign over a band of wild mountain trolls, or an ice wyrm? King Mikahl might hold reign over the kingdoms of men, but you can’t tell me he controls what the Zard or the snappers do.”

  “I see,” Hyden said uneasily. The pinprick in his gut was now a finger hole. Confidence was flowing out of him freely. His wineskin was emptying as if it were in Oarly’s hands. He’d envisioned his group making it through the Giant Mountains without having to worry about being attacked. In his mind, common animals hadn’t seemed a threat. He was so worried about demon kind, the Choskas and hellcats, that he had discounted the mountains’ natural inhabitants.

  He would have to rethink his plan. Another random encounter, such as the one with the mother bear, could end them all, if they weren’t prepared.

  Borg must have seen the concern on Hyden’s face. “You’ll be just fine, Hyden,” he said. “You can communicate with the animals through Talon. You just have to remember to listen to what they say.”

  From not very far away, the disgruntled bear growled out a deep, rumbling warning. Hyden looked up to see that they were passing very close to the cave mouth. Oof came bounding up out of nowhere and positioned himself between them and the opening. Nevertheless, Hyden nearly had to run to keep up with Borg’s suddenly brisk pace.

  After they had gotten some distance away, Borg asked if there was meat.

  “Not enough for two days,” Hyden replied.

  “There’s a large herd of elk moving in a nearby valley,” Borg said before barking out more orders to the great wolves. “We’ll be fine as long as there’s enough meat for this night. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”

  Hyden didn’t laugh. Spoken by a human it would be an exaggeration, but spoken by Borg, it was something else altogether. Lieutenant Welch had the camp erected closer to the tree line. Hyden had to smile at Mikahl’s choice of commanders. The more protected location would serve them well, since they would be waiting on the other elf and the monk. As Hyden and Borg neared, the whole pack of great wolves, save for Huffa, waggled and wiggled around Oof and Yip. Then all five of them were off to hunt elk as Borg had instructed them to do. Huffa, however, waited until Hyden took a seat on a log that the young soldiers had dragged out of the trees for just that purpose. The alpha female eased up beside him and put her white fluffy head in his lap.

  “She knows you?” Telgra asked curiously. She was sitting across the fire from Hyden, on a blanket with Phen. She was staring into the flames and scratching the lyna’s ears lovingly. As Hyden answered, Talon fluttered down to land on Phen’s shoulder.

  “Aye, my lady, she does. I have to tell you, though, there’s an elf and a monk following us. They tried to catch us in Dreen. I think King Mikahl might have told you about them. They were with you before you were lost in the storm.”

  Her look soured. She seemed embarrassed as she spoke. “I don’t remember them. I apologize if I am causing trouble for you.”

  “It’s not me who they might offend, my lady,” Hyden said. “We’re going to wait for them. We can’t keep leading them through the giant’s realm. They’ll meet an ill fate for certain.”

  She nodded that she understood his reasoning.

  “There’s more,” Hyden continued, trying to choose his words carefully. “I know you don’t remember much about yourself, but there’s one thing you should know.”

  Hyden looked to Borg for help. The giant’s expression showed that he was offering none. Hyden took a breath and got on with it. “You are the heir of the elven realm, Princess Telgra. Your mother is the Queen Mother, and though she knows that you are alive and safe, she doesn’t know where you are, or the condition of your mind.”

  “I knew it!” Phen blurted out excitedly. To his surprise and obvious disappointment, her yellow eyes filled with tears. She shoved him away as she jumped up and started off. After two steps, she stopped, turned around, and picked up Spike, who had tried to follow her.

  “Why did she start crying? Why is she so upset?” Phen asked.

  What Hyden thought was a boulder wiggled and unfolded into an over-bundled hairy dwarf.

  “She’s a she,” Oarly said, before taking a pull from his flask. He offered it to Hyden, who refused, but Borg reached his big hand over and took it. It looked like a thimble between the giant’s fingers. “Woman folk, be they dwarves, humans, or even elves are peculiar at best. Give her a while to think. I’ll go talk to her for you after that.” Oarly reached up to take his flask back from Borg, who had squatted down among them.

  Hyden had to laugh when Oarly shook the container and found it empty, then scowled up at the huge being. Borg returned his glare with a look that caused Oarly to blanch.

  “I’ll fetch some more,” Oarly grumbled. “And a fargin bucket for ye to drink from,” he added under his breath.

  Borg heard Oarly and belted out a deep belly laugh. After a moment he said to Phen, “The dwarf is right. Giant women are no different.”

  Lieutenant Welch sat down nearby and began whetting his sword. “Aye. Is she really the Princess of the Elves?”

  “Aye,” Hyden answered with a sigh.

  “You’ve all gone mad then.”

  Chapter 31

  News of Petar’s death, Commander Lyle’s reassignment, and the skeleton’s attack on O’Dakahn came to King Mikahl all in the same day. Cresson had made a sending to Master Wizard Sholt, who was currently on the Isle of Salazar with Lord Spyra, tracking down the men afflicted with Pael’s taint. He relayed the information to De’Rain, the young mage at Lakeside Castle.


  Unlike Cresson, De’Rain wasn’t afraid to add his opinion to the messages he passed. He was so brazen that, when he first spoke to his king, Mikahl almost took offense. Luckily, Lady Able was there in the throne room when the news of Petar’s death was announced. Her intervention kept Mikahl from reacting rashly to the insensitive way the information was given. By the time De’Rain brought the news of the attack on O’Dakahn to the High King’s ears, the two of them had come to an understanding. The mage hadn’t known that Mikahl was fond of Petar, and Mikahl hadn’t known that De’Rain had been humiliated by Glendar on more than one occasion. The boy had later been forced by the Zard to use his magical skills to mend pots and make collars and harnesses for their four-legged geka mounts.

  A lot of Westland folk were bitter. They had been overrun and forgotten while Mikahl fought beside King Jarrek to free the slaves from Ra’Gren. The people in the streets cheered for Mikahl, but he realized it was hope, not him, that they were calling out for.

  It wasn’t until Mikahl finally drew Ironspike before the nobles and merchants crowded in his court that true hope began to set in. To a man, the room took a knee. No one had seen the power of the blade since King Balton sat on the throne. Due to Balton’s cunning, Glendar never once possessed it, and the Dragon Queen only carried her Spectral Staff. Mikahl settled Ironspike's blade into the display sleeve that was built into the throne at the end of the right armrest. He'd seen his father do this a thousand times, and he wasn’t surprised when the whole throne lit up with the blade’s humming blue power. The soft glow radiated a kind of promise not seen in Westland for years.

  Mikahl had been fighting evil since he left the place, but something King Balton once said came to him: “Fear of the blade, and respect of its power, are far more potent weapons than the blade itself. The more you display Ironspike’s might, the less you will have to use it.” He thought about his father’s words as he told the people to rise.

  The people in court had seemed uncertain about him, but they were swelled with confidence now.

  “De’Rain,” Mikahl said softly. “Make a sending to our magister in O’Dakahn. Tell him that Commander Lyle is on his way and is to have full cooperation from all involved. A count of the skeletal remains should be made and the debris stored. All witnesses should be made available to the commander so that he can make a full, detailed report for me.”

  Until that day, Mikahl’s stay in Westland had been filled with joy. Recollections from his early childhood came to him often and left him smiling. Queen Rosa was distracted from the places in the castle that caused her grief. Lady Able was pleasant, and the most capable of castellans. Rosa spent the days with the other ladies from the area, visiting in the great ladies’ hall. There, women sewed and played games, but mostly gossiped about one thing or another. Several of Westland’s strongholds were vacant, having been emptied by the Zard invaders. Aspiring noble-born and notable citizens were vying for lordships, and their wives pursued Rosa’s favor relentlessly. Lady Able managed to keep things civil, but rumors and dirty looks were sometimes more plentiful than smiles among the women.

  Rosa loved it. She had been raised in Seaward City and was accustomed to the games the lesser nobility played. Her mother, Queen Rachel, had taught her well. She found and marked her place as queen quite easily. From there, she used all the tidbits of information Lady Trella had fed her. Knowledge of a secret affair by a lady who was portraying innocence, or the many secret rivalries and friendships that existed among the women, came in handy when judging who to trust, and in whom to only feign interest.

  With Rosa busily occupied during the day, Mikahl decided to see off the Lord of Locar and his marsh patrol. The Zard who had taken the knee and chose to remain in Westland were vocal against this intrusion into their lands. King Mikahl told them quite civilly that it wasn’t their land. He was the High King of the realm. That included the marshlands. Many of the Zard found no love among the Westlanders they had once conquered anyway. Most of them had either fled back to the marshes or taken up residence around Lion Lake in the growing Zard community there.

  The next morning, long before dawn, Mikahl kissed Rosa goodbye, and on the wings of the bright horse, he flew to Settsted. It was a sad sight to see the place where Lady Zasha had grown up in such a state of disrepair. The familiar smell of the marsh filled his nostrils and mingled with the smell of the boats and the refuse from yesterday’s catch. It all stirred up memories long forgotten.

  Many a week he had been at Settsted, both as Lord Gregory’s squire, and then as King Balton’s. Lady Zasha’s father, Big Lord Ellrich, was the lord of Settsted then. Pael and King Glendar had emptied the outpost of men. Glendar did this because Pael told him to. Pael did it so that his daughter could lead the Zard out of the swamps and take over Westland with no resistance. Mikahl found that he had a bit of respect for Pael’s military planning skills. Had the wizard not gone mad with demon power, he most likely would have succeeded in conquering the realm.

  Mikahl landed the bright horse near the ruined wall that faced the marshes. He was struck by a particularly fond memory.

  Lady Zasha had been Mikahl’s first love, and a friend since childhood. In his teen years he had fished with her from the docks while his liege and her father hunted dactyls in the marsh. By all rights, Settsted Stronghold should go to her and her new husband, Wyndall. They currently lived on the Isle of Salazar. They owned the Lost Lion Inn and were instrumental in harboring refugees during the Zard occupation. Zasha had just given birth, Mikahl had heard. He knew she would refuse the position, but he would make the offer to them anyway. They had found happiness, and Zasha did not want her husband to be duty bound to anyone but her. Mikahl had to respect that. He could make the offer to no other, though, until after she formally refused her birthright. There was no doubt that the place would have to have a lord soon. His plan to reestablish a constant marshland patrol demanded it.

  Most of the damage to the stronghold had been repaired, but not the side where Queen Shaella and Claret had first attacked. Most of the wall, and a good swath of the outlying village leading up to it, had been scorched permanently black with dragon’s fire.

  Climbing up onto the rubble of the ruined wall, Mikahl was surprised to see nearly twenty river boats and barges gathered along the shoreline. They were tied to bollard poles, personal docks, and even grappled to the bank for nearly half a mile. The sun had lit the sky and the soldiers were breaking camp. There was no way to house that many men at the stronghold, and Mikahl was actually surprised that more than two hundred men could be mustered to duty in Westland on such short notice. As he approached the camp of breed giants, where Bzorch was conferring with a pair of sergeants and a captain, he realized that the men weren’t all Westlanders. Several were Dakaneese sellswords, and a few were tattoo-covered Seawardsmen.

  “You’ll have to tell them to forget the heavy armor,” Mikahl said to the group of bowing commanders and the breed giant. “At ease,” he snapped, so that they would get back to business. “The marsh is soft and wet. A man with heavy plate will get stuck or drown. Leather, or light ring mail is all that should be allowed.”

  “Make it so,” Bzorch growled to the captain.

  The order was relayed to both sergeants, who scurried off quickly, leaving Bzorch, the captain, and the High King relatively alone among the busy soldiers.

  “Captain, Lord Bzorch is going to lead the foray. I want you to advise him.” Mikahl smiled up at Bzorch when the captain paled. “You’ll have to be firm. He might be big and ugly, but he’s quite capable. And he will listen, if you voice your concerns.”

  “Yes, highness,” the captain said uneasily.

  “I don’t want you to turn this into a Zard hunt, Bzorch,” Mikahl said. “If you see large groups of armed Zard, take action. If you see that fargin lightning star banner flapping over their encampments, remove it.” Mikahl looked up and met the breed giant’s eyes. “I do not want you attacking family groups or peace
ful settlements. The Zard are not your prey.”

  Mikahl was glad that only a small bit of disappointment showed in the breed giant’s feral expression.

  “What about hellcats and wyvern?” Bzorch asked hopefully.

  “Hunt them down and bring me their heads,” Mikahl said coldly. “There is a Choska loose, as I told you before. Since we last spoke, it has attacked O’Dakahn with a bunch of the skeletal men. If you see any of these fleshless or rotting men, take them apart. It’s the only way to make them stay dead.”

  Mikahl turned and looked out across the vast grassy marshland. “It’s that fargin Choska demon I want, though. It attacked O’Dakahn and killed fourteen men.”

  Bzorch gave a slight bow. “King Mikahl, it would please me to pike the Choska’s head at O’Dakahn's front gate personally for you.”

  “Aye,” Mikahl chuckled. “That would be spectacular. The sooner the better. You'll find it around the Dragon’s Tooth Spire, I’m sure. Are we understood?”

  Both the captain and the breed giant nodded in agreement.

  “Good,” Mikahl said. “I hope to hear news of your success soon.”

  With that, he strode away as another memory, one of skinny dipping in the river with Zasha and other adolescents came to him. It made him think of Queen Rosa and the passionate nights they had been spending back at Lakeside. He decided that he would pick a handful of fragrant river blooms for her. He was sure they would make her smile.

  ***

  The Skyler Clan hadn’t welcomed Corva and Dostin very well. The two were scolded severely by Hyden’s father.

  “If people just followed you haughty elves around, your precious hidden forest city would be full of kingdom folk, beasts, and other unwanted intruders as well,” he told them. “Here you are, hungry and cold, and not dressed for the weather, and no less than trespassing in our village, and you have the gall to ask about things that are not even our concern. Be gone from here.”