More questions were thrown about, but Wren had given them all he could. Ariana walked forward and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Come with me, child. You did your kingdom a great service.”
His eyes swam. “Will you save them?”
“We will do what we can.”
Wren’s shoulders slumped as he followed the old queen from the room.
As Marissa lay down to sleep that night, she made a vow to Marcus. Whatever it took. She’d saved him the first time they met and if she had to spend the rest of her life doing just that, she would.
Nothing could stop her from being with him again.
From giving the people back their king.
Chapter 8
Wood splintered as the battering ram crashed against the gate once again. They’d strengthened it with whatever they could, but it wouldn’t hold out for long.
Marcus sprinted up the stairs to the bedraggled archers who’d had barely any sleep for weeks. Months. Lord, it felt like years.
“Ready your bows,” Hendry Yaro boomed. “Nock.”
Marcus leaned over the edge of the wall to focus on the men below. “Aim for those nearest the gates.”
“Loose.” Yaro’s word sent a volley of arrows flying towards the soldiers hefting the long ram.
They’d used their magic in the beginning, but it had slowly waned as there’d been no break in action to find green earth. The land around the Yaro estate in Isenore was dry and barren, a frozen tundra that had been abandoned by all magic.
In reality, it had been drained of magic during the battles along the border.
Marcus stepped up beside Lord Yaro. “They’re going to break through, and soon. We can’t continue to hold them off. We need magic.”
The lord shook his head. “We do not have a way out that isn’t blocked.” He nodded to one of the archers to take charge, and then led the king into the safety of the house.
Marcus didn’t want safety. He wanted action.
For months, all they’d been trying to do was keep him safe. It had gotten Lonara taken and sent little Wren running surely into the arms of their enemies. There was no hope of rescue because none of their messengers had gotten out of Isenore.
If they didn’t do something, they were truly lost.
“I know how to get out,” a voice piped up behind them.
They turned to regard Warren, Lord Yoro’s other son. Hendry gripped the boy’s shoulder and bent to look him in the eye. “You told me you didn’t know how your brother got out.”
His eyes darted from his father to the king. “There’s a door in the cellar with a tunnel.”
“It’s sealed by magic at the other end.”
The boy shook his head. “Wren used his magic to open it.”
“His power isn’t that strong. He’s a child.”
Hendry straightened up. “Son, go back to your mother. You can’t be wandering the palace.” He started walking and gestured for the king to follow him. “The door at the end of the tunnel has been sealed since I was a child, and enemy soldiers found their way in. I have never been able to open it, but if Wren did, then there’s a chance he wasn’t captured.”
“How so?”
“It comes out in the forest miles away. It’s the nearest source of magic, but the Dreach-Dhoun forces couldn’t possibly leave the siege to find it. I can’t go with you, but sire, your magic is our only hope of coming out of this.”
“It still won’t be enough against an army.”
“But it will be something.”
They reached the cellar, and the lord pushed his king into a dark tunnel that reeked of some kind of dead animal. He coughed and covered his nose with one hand while using his remaining magic to light his way.
His tired limbs stumbled along until he was sure he could go anymore. The months of fighting for mere survival has taken so much from him. Strength. Confidence. Hope. He would die in an estate in Isenore without his wife by his side. He’d never know his child. His kingdom would fall into the hands of Calis Bearne.
He fell against the stone wall thinking of the boy whose power opened a door that his elders could not. Was he safe? Or had it all been for naught?
Marissa would make a good queen. Would they accept her? No. He knew with complete certainty that the minute he was dead, his brother would take the throne. It had never belonged to him. Drake Renauld was not meant to be king. That was his destiny.
Marcus pushed away from the wall, stumbling before righting himself. He couldn’t quit now.
The door opened into a cave, and Marcus pushed into the fresh air with a gasp. Lush forest surrounded him, it’s magic buzzing in the air. His body sagged in relief as he fell to the leaf covered ground past the mouth of the cave. Strength flowed into him from every direction, almost as if the earth was begging him to take her power.
His heart beat stronger and the fog in his mind cleared away. His aches and pains from months of battle were still there. Magic could not repair the body. But he could overcome them. After a few more moments of basking in the power, he climbed to his feet.
A path was cut into the forest, going right by the cave. It was the path they took from the palace to Isenore and they’d never known of the doors existence.
He turned back to the cave, knowing he had to get back to the estate as quickly as possible when the thundering of hooves reached his ears and shook the ground beneath his feet.
He barely had time to react before they were upon him. An entire contingent of Dreach-Dhoun soldiers. They’d been watching the forest.
Gathering his power in the tips of his fingers, he took off running. His feet hammered into the ground as he dodged bolts of magic they sent his way. Fire crackled in his hands moments before it shot towards his pursuers. He reached the edge of the tree line and sent another ball of fire sailing out behind him.
There were too many. Each time his fire hit one of them, another one took their place. As he left the tree cover behind, his fire caught onto it and he sent a blast of wind to create an inferno.
Horses screamed even as their riders issued bellowing battle cries and escaped the fire. There was nowhere else for Marcus to go. Rolling hills of barren land stretched out before him. An arrow sailed by his ear, narrowly missing.
“Stop!” a rough voice yelled. “The king wants him alive!”
Marcus spun around with his hand out in front of him and a wall of fire circled him, the heat stealing the air from his lungs. He coughed and sputtered.
Bad idea. If he lowered the fire, he’d be taken to Calis. He couldn’t fight that many men. Wouldn’t it be better to die on the battlefield than in the dungeons of Dreach-Dhoun?
He fell to his knees as the smoke choked him.
A blast of water struck him in the face as one of the soldiers attempted to put out the flames. Marcus was too busy hacking to stop them.
Two of the soldiers jumped down from their horses and walked forward.
The king’s head hung forward. He didn’t fight when they gripped his arms tightly and jerked him to his feet.
“I am sorry for this, but we have our orders.” The soldier sounded honestly remorseful.
“Jenner,” another one barked. “Stop your yapping and do your job.”
A closed fist crashed into Marcus’ face, and he would’ve fallen back if he hadn’t been held up. He didn’t make a sound.
Closing his eyes, he said a silent prayer to the earth to not let his kingdom fall because of this. His eyes were still shut when he heard it. A horn blared nearby, putting sound back into his world.
It was a horn from Dreach-Sciene. He’d recognize it anywhere. His eyes snapped open as men and women on horseback crested the hill. In the center of them all was a woman. The woman. His woman.
Fear sliced through him. She shouldn’t be there. Not in her state.
The Dreach-Dhoun soldiers who were still on horseback bolted, but the two holding him didn’t get a chance. Someone kicked their horse and a single man
thundered down the hill.
The grips on Marcus’ arms slackened. His captors looked on in terror as Drake pulled up and yanked his sword free of its scabbard.
“Back away from the king,” he barked.
They didn’t hesitate. Drake slid down from his beast and advanced on the two men.
He raised his sword over his head, preparing to make the killing blow when a voice stopped him.
“No!” Marissa cried. She rode as fast as she could, but had to slow to avoid difficulties. Unable to dismount on her own, she moved her horse in between Drake and the two cowering men. “You can’t kill them.”
Drake scowled. “They would’ve done worse to Marcus.”
As if sensing him for the first time, she started yelling to the lines of soldiers advancing after them. “Somebody get me off of this damn horse.”
Two servants appeared. As soon as she was down, she hobbled towards Marcus and threw herself down next to him. Running her hands along his face as if to prove to herself he was real, tears shone in her eyes.
“Marcus.”
He didn’t care that they were being watched. He pulled her to him for a kiss. Her belly got in the way and he looked down.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
She cupped his cheek. “I’m so mad at you, Marcus. You’ve been gone for too long.”
“I didn’t exactly have a choice .”
“I didn’t say I was rational. Only mad.” When she finally leaned across her stomach and kissed him, it returned every bit of strength he’d had.
They broke apart when one of the Dreach-Dhoun soldiers gasped. “General.”
She had one of the servants pull her to her feet. “Jenner.” She inclined her head. “Artemi.”
Drake broke in. “You were a general?” he accused. “It was bad enough when you were only a soldier in their army.”
Marcus got to his feet. “We don’t have time for this. Yaro is under attack.”
Marissa turned to the two soldiers. “I know how you both feel about Calis. Why are you still fighting for him when I am gone?”
Jenner scrunched his brow. “Dreach-Sciene abducted you.”
“They did no such thing!”
Artemi glanced at his comrade. “General, you have our loyalty. Always. It has not changed. We believe in you, not the cruel king.”
Fondness flashed across her face.
Drake moved to speak, but Marcus stopped him. “Good, then you two are charged with my wife’s safety, along with her guard Avery. You will stay with the healers. Drake and I will take the army around the south side of the estate and hit Dreach-Dhoun from behind.”
Marissa nodded. “You’ll catch Calis unprepared. He’ll have had little warning of our advance.”
“General,” Jenner started. “The king isn’t here.”
“What?” Shock tainted Marcus’ question. Why wouldn’t Calis lead the attack ? He had a possibility of capturing the king of Dreach-Sciene.
Jenner shrugged .
Marissa stepped close to Marcus and lowered her voice. “If he’s not here, he’s up to something. Now that he has the entire Tri-Gard …”
She didn’t need to finish the statement, but there was nothing they could do except fight the army that was there.
A horse was brought forward for the king and the soldiers broke away from their train of servants and healers.
The miles he’d walked through the tunnel were nothing atop a horse. They covered the ground in no time. By the time they reached the estate, the gate had been broken open and fighting rang out throughout the estate halls.
“Charge!” Drake ordered.
They swarmed the enemy troops who still fought outside the walls. Marcus pushed soldiers away with his magic as his horse leaped onto the bridge and bound through the gate. He jumped down and met an enemy sword with a swing of his own. Combining a blast of power with a slice of his sword, he took care of the other man swiftly and continued on his way, hacking and blasting his way through crowds of fighting men.
He had to find Hendry Yaro and make sure his family was safe.
They couldn’t be destroyed for nothing more than protecting the king.
The door to the cellar was shut, but he yanked it open and slid through, hoping to not be seen before pounding down the wooden stairs. If he were Yaro, he knew where he’d hide his family.
Opening the door he’d gone through only hours before, he found Yaro’s young wife huddled with her son, Warren.
A burst of relief exploded in his chest.
The woman’s eyes were wild until she settled and recognized Marcus.
“Your Majesty,” she breathed. “You’ve returned.”
“With an army,” he responded. “The Dreach-Sciene forces have arrived. I want you to take Warren and make it to the end of the tunnel. Nearby, you’ll find the queen. She’ll keep you safe.”
Her lip quivered. “Does this mean Wren made it?”
“I hope so.” He shut the door and ran back up the steps, looking out into the hall before closing the door behind him and sealing it with his magic.
He found Hendry atop the walls fighting two men at once. Marcus jumped in at once, dispatching their attackers before moving on to others.
They fought side by side for so long, Marcus’ arms began to ache. He discarded his sword for his preferred battle axes, one in each hand.
Fighting was never fun. It was never glorious. It was dark and filthy and exhausting. Men died in droves. No, there was no glory in that.
But they were fighting so that one day there would be peace, and that was glorious.
So they kept going. They fought until there was hardly any fight left in them. Until their bodies ached and their friends were gone. They fought hoping there was still something to fight for.
As the sun began to sink on the horizon, a blade bit into Marcus side. He spun so it was yanked away, but the damage had been done. Blood poured from the wound, coating his leathers in the sticky life force.
“You need to get to a healer,” Drake said, trying to catch his breath beside him after dispatching his brother’s opponent. They scanned the sea of bodies before them. Dreach-Sciene was waning, but Dreach-Dhoun continued to come. Calis may not be there, but he’d sent every last man he had.
In Dreach-Sciene there was told a story of a man who’d become a legend. Trystan the Bold was prince when Dreach was split in two. He’d purposefully taken in more magic than he could handle in order to save his people. When he’d used that magic to send a spear sailing through the protective barrier the enemy sorcerer had erected, it had taken every last bit of life he’d had.
Marcus always measured himself against Trystan. His entire life, he wondered if he’d sacrifice himself if need be.
Maybe he had.
A cycle of war created heroes, but the problem with heroes is that most of them had to die to become legends. To be remembered.
Marissa’s words came to him. War leaves a memory. He’d be remembered. They all would. For the good. The bad. The choices and failures. The earth never forgot.
As his legs grew weak, the earth began to shake. Was that his magic leaving him? Was he imagining the world crumbling at his death?
“What’s happening?” Drake yelled, grabbing onto the wall.
His voice seemed so very far away.
Rock broke away from the walls, sending a cascade of stone fragments raining down.
“We have to get out of here.” Hendry ran towards him. “My King. Marcus!”
When the king didn’t respond, Hendry and Drake threw his arms over their shoulders and dragged him from the estate.
The earth continued to shake as if in protest, but the estate managed not to collapse completely.
Marcus didn’t realize what was happening as he was lifted onto a horse. The fighting had stopped with both armies running in terror.
Marcus closed his eyes as his horse cantered down the hill. Was this the end of everything?
He wan
ted to let himself drift away as his blood was doing. He’d lost all strength. He’d been fighting for too long.
The rumbling grew louder as if the earth cried out in agony and a high-pitched scream pierced through the fog in Marcus’ mind.
He was lifted down from his horse and carried into a tent that had been erected for the healers. The scream sounded again and his eyes snapped open. He tried to sit up, but a hand held him down.
“We need to fix you up, Your Majesty. She’ll be fine.”
She? He recognized it now. Marissa’s voice uttering curses and screaming into the night. Something wasn’t right.
A liquid was forced down his throat and within minutes, even Marissa’s screams couldn’t keep him from succumbing to black nothingness.
* * *
“It’s gone?” a voice whispered. “All of it? How is that possible?”
Someone else sobbed nearby but Marcus’ couldn’t separate the sounds.
“What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty.”
“How long will the king be out? It’s been an entire day!”
Marcus stirred and as he opened his eyes, they immediately latched on to Marissa on a nearby bed.
He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.
A healer appeared at his side with a cup of water. He drank it gratefully.
“Slowly, Your Majesty,” he said.
Marcus tried to speak again and this time, he managed to get the words out. “What happened?”
Marissa raised her eyes, showcasing a war between torture and joy. “You have a son.”
He sat up quickly and cried out as pain seared through him.
The healer gave him a chastising look but didn’t say anything.
“You were stabbed, Marcus.” Worry clouded Marissa’s face. “Be careful.”
“Can I … Can I see him?”
She nodded, but before she could ask for him to be brought, Drake rushed in.
“Good,” he said. “You’re awake. The Dreach-Dhoun army has retreated across the border.”
“Why the hell would they do that?” Marcus collapsed back with a sigh. “They were winning.”
Memory of War Page 8