Siege: A Borrowed Magic Novella

by Shari Lambert

  Senred only watched her with cold curiosity. “You weren’t exaggerating about the pain.”

  “I’m not exaggerating either when I tell you how horrible you are. You made a deal with Kern to further your own selfish ends. You won’t help me even though it costs you nothing. It’s just spite. I hope Kern comes after you next. I hope he destroys everything you hold dear and leaves you to rot. Death would be too easy.”

  His face went red. “How dare you! I am a king. You are nothing but a girl a weak monarch sent because he has no other options.” He turned to his guards. “Throw her out. And don’t do it gently.”

  The grip on her arms tightened, dragging her from the room so quickly she could barely get her feet under her, causing her arms and shoulders to take most of her weight. She screamed in agony but her cries were ignored. Then she was dumped in a heap outside the gates, landing hard on her shoulder. She lay there until she could bear to stand and then stumbled towards her horse. But mounting was impossible – and no one offered to help her. She settled for grabbing the reins and leading the horse away from the castle.

  And vowed to never come back.

  * * *

  “Miss?”

  Maren rolled over and pulled the blankets closer. Soft blankets.

  Her eyes sprang open and she sat up, only to fall back onto the pillows as the world spun around her and pain ripped through her shoulder.

  “Where am I?”

  “In Toreweth. In King Edwin’s castle.”

  She picked through her memories. She’d been thrown out of Senred’s castle. That she remembered well. Then it got a bit hazy. She’d managed to get on top of her horse by climbing an old wooden fence but had almost passed out in the process. Then she’d steered the horse towards Torweth, and…that’s where everything went blank.

  “How did I get here?” she asked.

  “You were found unconscious on your horse just inside the border,” the maid said. “You had a letter in your pocket from your king, so you were brought here.”

  “How long ago?” She was almost scared to ask.

  “Yesterday afternoon.”

  Not as long as she’d feared. But still too long.

  She forced herself up again, sucking in a pained breath, and then pushed herself to her feet. To say she wasn’t steady was an understatement, but she grabbed the bedpost until the world stopped spinning.

  “I need to see King Edwin,” she said.

  “Are you sure, miss? You don’t look at all well.”

  Maren nodded. “I’m sure.”

  Ten minutes later, Maren sat in Edwin’s throne room. She tried to rise when he entered, but he motioned her to stop.

  “Lady Maren, you’re obviously exhausted. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

  “I came for aid on behalf of Tredare. We need help to defeat Kern.”

  Edwin shifted in his seat. “I don’t know how you think I can help,” he said slowly. “You need mages.”

  “And you have them.”

  He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I wish I could help you. I truly do. But for the sake of my people, I can’t.”

  Even Edwin was a part of whatever agreement had been made with Kern.

  “I see.”

  “No,” he said, his eyes begging for her understanding. “I don’t think you do.”

  She straightened her shoulders. “I’ve been to all four of the other kingdoms. They’ve all refused aid.” She paused, meeting him eye to eye. “I’ve talked to Senred.”

  Edwin paled.

  But at least Edwin had taken care of her. And there was a part of her, a very small part, that understood. Of course Edwin wanted to believe that if he did what Kern asked, his kingdom would be spared.

  Too bad he was wrong.

  Maren took a deep breath. “I do have another favor. A personal one.” She pulled her dress down over her shoulder. “I would truly appreciate the help of your mages in healing this.”

  Edwin took a step back, his eyes widening. “I…I don’t know.”

  “Please,” she whispered.

  His shoulders fell. “All right. But this has to remain secret. None of the other kings can know what I did.”

  An hour later, she was lying on a bed surrounded by too many mages to count. They poked and prodded until she shouted at them. Then they asked questions. How long ago did it happen? A little over a month. Has it gotten worse since? No. Does it hurt? Obviously.

  What mage would do such a thing?

  “Kern.”

  Silence.

  And stares.

  “I don’t know that we can undo a spell from Kern,” one of them finally said.

  Her heart sank. “Nothing?”

  “We may be able to relieve some of the pain, but I can’t promise anything.”

  “I don’t need promises,” she said. “I just want you to try.”

  Trying turned out to be another word for torture. Their magic surged into her shoulder time and time again, and every instance was the same. She screamed – until she finally passed out.

  “We can’t heal it,” one mage said after she’d regained consciousness again. “But I do have one last option. We can try to contain it, use our magic to shield against the injury.”

  Maren tried to speak, but her voice was only a thin whisper. She settled for nodding and prepared once again for the pain. It came, just like it had before, only it didn’t last as long.

  And when everything was over, she was still conscious. Even better, instead of the searing torture, her shoulder felt…sore, like she’d spent the previous day lifting more than she should have.

  She reached up and pushed against it. It felt bruised, but not broken.

  Sinking back into her pillows, she muttered a silent thank you. Then, for the first time in longer than she cared to admit, she slept.

  Six

  They were everywhere. Men with dark eyes and scars in too many places to count. And things that weren’t men, beings created by Kern’s dark magic. Evil seeped from them into the surrounding air, coating everything in a gloomy haze that perfectly matched their goal.

  To lay siege to the city of Delorme.

  As far as Maren could tell, no cannon had been fired yet, but the roads were blocked in and out. She’d gotten here late the previous night and snuck into camp, posing as one of the many serving girls brought for the sole purpose of being ogled – and possibly more – by the men. She intended to get any information she could and sneak back out before…she shivered…just before.

  The sun had touched the horizon. Torches had been lit and word spread that the men were to gather at the main tent. Maren followed, staying along the edges, trying to be inconspicuous.

  It seemed to be working – until Lord Kern climbed onto a platform in front of the crowd.

  She gasped, drawing the attention of the men around her.

  They laughed and one of them grabbed her arm. “What? Did you think this was some kind of party?”

  She tried to pull away but he only yanked her closer. “We’re here for killing, my girl.” His arm slid around her waist, and he smiled in a way that left her no doubt as to his intentions. “And other things, when we have the time.”

  He pushed his mouth against hers, only seeming to relish it more when she struggled to push him away.

  “Boys,” he called. “We have a fighter.”

  Then another set of hands were there. And another. And another. Their foul breath made her want to vomit. Their laughter made her furious. But no matter what she did, there was always another one with groping hands and hungry eyes. And it seemed the more she fought, the more they enjoyed it, feeding off her terror.

  Which gave her an idea.

  She stopped doing anything, let her knees go weak in the current man’s arms, and pretended to pass out.

  At which point he dropped her on the ground, and she heard him slap one of the other men on the back. “We were too much for her boys.” They all laughed, satisfied, as if they’
d accomplished something.

  She didn’t move until she heard Kern’s voice slither over the crowd. “Thank you all for joining my cause. I’ve waited years for this moment, and I’m happy to have so many of you here to enjoy it with me.”

  The crowd raised fists to the sky and shouted their support.

  Maren inched away. Now that Kern had their attention, she had a chance. Besides, she couldn’t listen to him. Not and stay silent. Or rush the platform and try to strangle him.

  “Tonight we will lay siege to Delorme,” Kern yelled, gaining him another round of cheers. “King Daric already knows what it’s like to have those closest to him taken away. Now he will know what it’s like to be trapped. We won’t stop until every last one of them is dead. Tredare will be ours!”

  The men were drunk on his words, thirsty for death and war.

  Maren crawled faster, until the voice and cheers were muffled and the air didn’t press down on her.

  Then she rolled on to her back and sobbed.

  Her eyes traveled to the city and then further up, to the castle nestled against the mountains. How long would it take? How long before life became a living hell?

  She could run right now. She was no longer in excruciating pain. She could search for Philip. She could keep herself safe.

  And deny Daric the knowledge she carried of conspiracies and Kern.

  No. She couldn’t. Philip didn’t want to be found. He didn’t want her. Not anymore.

  The crowd cheered again in the distance, and her anger swelled.

  Kern had been defeated once. Maybe he could be again.

  She straightened her shoulders and pulled herself to her feet. If there was a way, the knowledge of how was inside Daric’s castle, buried in her father’s books.

  She was running towards the castle before she even realized it. But not along the normal roads where Kern’s army would see her. She headed for the cliffside, to a path that led to a secret door.

  It was covered in ivy, and her fingers were scraped raw by the time she found the bolt. She pushed it aside and shoved the door open, only to be grabbed by either arm and shoved to the ground.

  “Stop!” she called. “It’s me. It’s Lady Maren.”

  One of the guards knelt beside her and shined a light in her face before letting out a long breath. “Let her go.” He offered her a hand and pulled her up.

  “I need to see King Daric,” she said. “Now.”

  The guard only nodded, barking orders at those behind him to stay where they were.

  They wove their way upwards through damp, winding corridors until they stood before the great hall.

  “I know where to go,” she said, and then pushed the doors open.

  Daric huddled around a table with his advisors, barely glancing her direction as the door grated against the stone. But then his head jerked around and he rushed forward, enveloping her in his arms.

  “I thought you were dead,” he whispered. “Adare thought you were dead.” He hugged her tight for another minute and then stepped back, running a finger along her cheek that made her wince. “What happened?”

  She hadn’t even noticed the injury, must have gotten it fighting the men, and could only imagine how she must look. Bruised, hair a mess, crumpled dress. But she couldn’t tell him the truth. Couldn’t relive it. Couldn’t see the horror in his eyes as he worried about yet another thing. “Nothing,” she assured him. “It’s nothing. I fell sneaking around in the dark, trying to find the hidden door.”

  His shoulders relaxed – a little – and then his eyes met hers. “What did you find?”

  “None of the kings are coming to help,” she said in a low voice. “They’ve bargained with Kern for their safety.”

  Daric paled but his head remained high.

  She paused, knowing it only got worse. “Kern is in the siege camp. I saw him. He is determined to carry this out until everyone’s dead.”

  Now Daric’s shoulders slumped. “When?”

  “Tonight.”

  He turned back to his advisors, his face suddenly older, and briefed them quickly.

  Then his eyes found hers again. “And the other thing?”

  “Better,” she said. “Not the same, but better.”

  He gave her a small, sad smile.

  It was extinguished a second later as a loud crack split the air, and the ground beneath their feet shook.

  It was beginning.

  Seven

  Maren was sick of the quarreling. It had only been a week, a week spent planning and strategizing, and they still hadn’t accomplished much.

  She leaned over to Daric. “Are you still glad you kept some of the Lords here? We’re arguing more than doing. And we have to listen to it for…” She threw her hands up. “For who knows how long.”

  “I didn’t keep them here because I thought they’d help.”

  “I know,” she said. “You kept them so they wouldn’t betray you and join Kern.”

  He sighed. “And yet I let Beaumont and Alton go, along with the group in the south. And Montagu is out there. We know he’s betrayed us already.”

  “But Beaumont and Alton and the southern group won’t join Kern.” She paused as Daric frowned. “They won’t. They don’t want to be subject to anyone. They’ll keep their lands in tact, and those will be resources we need.”

  “Even though it’s going to be a fight to take them,” Daric said. “Especially knowing they hope to pick up the broken pieces when this is all over.”

  “Like Kern would allow that. They’re not the smartest group.”

  “We don’t need smart right now.” She winced as another bout of yelling ensured. “We need quiet.”

  He almost smiled, which was good to see, all things considered. After the loss of his son, and now the siege, Maren wondered if Daric would ever be the same again. He’d recovered when his father had been murdered, but that had been in large part due to Adare. Now, he and Adare were both living the same nightmare. But he couldn’t dwell on his own personal pain. He had a kingdom to hold together.

  “Well, I think we’re done for the day. You?”

  She nodded as he stood and called the room to attention – or interrupted the arguing. Then he dismissed the Lords and sank back into his seat.

  “At least I have you in these meetings.” He ran a hand over his face. “A young woman on the Council. Even if you weren’t you or hadn’t learned so much from your father, even if you couldn’t help me one single bit, I would have done it just to see their faces.”

  “Too bad it’s only temporary. You know that’s the only reason they voted to allow it.”

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be permanent in the future. Your father had a place on the Council. Why shouldn’t you as the next King’s Scholar?”

  “I’m not my father,” she said. “Besides, right now I have to be ‘First Lady’ and help Adare. The city needs to be kept as calm as possible.”

  He looked at her for a long time. “You deserve it you know. First Lady. No one else would have done what you did for my son or for Tredare.”

  “But the second highest ranking woman in the kingdom?” she asked. “It’s more than I want. Besides I’m only seventeen.”

  “Almost eighteen.”

  She stood. “I promised Adare I’d join her down in the city once the Council meeting was over. She’s setting up the medical building. There are already some injuries.”

  “There’s going to be more as time passes.” His eyes clouded over with sadness. “We have to find a way to stop this.”

  * * *

  Except for the soldiers Daric had assigned to patrol the streets, the city was empty. Eerie. What only a week ago were bustling streets full of people were now still, replaced by fear. It was in the air, in the water, in the vacant eyes that peered through half open windows.

  Maren made her way to the market square where they’d set up a medical area in an old store. It was drafty, smelled of mildew, and the roof lea
ked, but it was something.

  Adare stood directing the few volunteers she’d been able to gather, mostly those too young or old to have families to care for.

  “How is everything?” Maren asked.

  “Good.” Adare met her eyes. “For now. Eventually, we aren’t going to have enough space. Or supplies. Or help.”

  Because Kern wasn’t going away.

  And winter was only a few months off.

  Adare sank onto a nearby stool. “How can we possibly survive this?”

  Maren dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe if Daric and I surrend—”

  “No.” Maren grabbed both of Adare’s hands as if they were only thing keeping her alive. “No.”

  Adare’s expression softened. “But it would end this. And what are two lives in exchange for thousands? Especially when part of my heart is already gone?”

  The sorrow in her friend’s eyes was almost physical, but she pushed it away. “Your surrender wouldn’t end anything,” she insisted. “Kern wants Daric to suffer, for his kingdom to suffer. What better way than to kill his wife in front of him and then make him watch the destruction of his country?”

  A cannonball hit on the other side of the city and the ground shook beneath them.

  “I’ve already lost Philip,” Maren continued. “And my father. And Justin. I can’t lose you and Daric too.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Maren wished she had an answer.

  * * *

  Maren stood in front of her father’s study, somewhere she’d avoided for almost two months. Since the day her father had been killed. Even with her determination to stop Kern, she hadn’t been able to bring herself here. She’d found excuses – Daric needed her, Adare needed her, she needed to be in the city, or at a Council meeting. But she was out of excuses.

  She reached for the knob and hesitated. Then she took a deep breath and stepped into the room. She was immediately assaulted by memories and the smell of old books. The first made her want to cry. The second…well, it also made her want to cry.