The King's Defense

by Shawn Robert Smith

  "Child--."

  Before Darius managed an explanation, dark energy crashed into him, his face shriveling until only bones remained. He slumped to the ground, dead. His bones broke apart, no longer connected by muscles and skin. It sounded like a pile of logs falling over. He heard a creak of ungreased metal.

  Winthrop jumped back. The smell and taste of vomit filled his senses. Zyadrin moved her hands in an intricate pattern and a protection spell replaced the magical bonds on Atwix. Dark spheres formed in his hands and blue light filled Zyadrin’s palms. They both attacked Knilin, who became a blur of light, dodging everything that they aimed at him. He threw a volley of knives at Zyadrin and followed it with a sphere of his own. One of the knives landed with a loud thud. Her shield blocked the knife, but the sphere hit her square in the chest. She flew backward, like she fell off a mountaintop, landing against a tree trunk hundreds of feet away with a loud thud.

  Winthrop lacked the experience to know if her shield would hold up, but she didn’t move, and Atwix lost the magic that guarded him, evaporating like morning dew when the sun rises.

  Knilin bolted away, dodging several shots aimed at him by Atwix. Each missed sphere hit a tree, weakening it until it broke and collapsed. Winthrop stood there dumbfounded. When a tree fell toward him, he jumped out of the way, landing in a pile of pine cones. He grimaced and clutched his chest. When he managed to look back at the scene, he saw Knilin shoot more spheres at Atwix, managing to hit his mark.

  Knilin’s magic forced Atwix sideways toward the mountains that lay behind the forest. Atwix adjusted his body so that it stayed parallel to the ground until he landed on a tree trunk, stopping his momentum.

  Winthrop hopped over the tree that almost crushed him, putting something between him and Atwix.

  Knilin pulled a pair of throwing knives and flung them toward Atwix, who fought them with his magic, corroding the metal so that when they reached him, they shattered. He leaped from tree to tree, trying to escape the effect of Knilin's magic.

  Knilin called out to Winthrop, "Use your magic. Reinforce yourself for protection. I’ll need your help capturing him."

  Winthrop tried the same spell as before, but it refused to work. The news of his father fractured his resolve.

  "Join us, Winthrop," Atwix called, "Make your father proud. His power nearly matched Gnash the Destroyer, the greatest of our order. Help me finish off Knilin and come with me." His voice grated on Winthrop's soul.

  His resolve lay in following the light and honoring his father, yet this new information shook that foundation.

  "How can I trust you, Knilin? The Council, your council, lied to me. Were you ever going to tell me the truth?"

  Winthrop clenched his fists in anger at Knilin, but also in frustration that the little talent he claimed had vanished in an instant.

  Knilin continued to throw knives at Atwix as he fled. The knives flew faster and with extra force than Winthrop would expect. One managed to stab Atwix in the shoulder, locking him against a tree. "Help me, Winthrop. Continue your father's legacy," Atwix moaned.

  "Winthrop, there’s no time. We need to stop him," Knilin exclaimed.

  Atwix ripped the knife free and threw three more balls of darkness at Knilin, who continued to dodge them. As Atwix became more desperate, he threw the spheres at faster speeds, but Knilin moved like a gazelle running from a lion. Several more corroded knives struck Atwix, and his blood leaked at several points along his body.

  "Winthrop, try your magic again. If we don’t stop him, he’ll kill everyone in the village," Knilin said.

  He still had questions about his dad, but his resolve returned. Winthrop formed the spheres in his hands and began the motions. Atwix managed to pull free of the knives locking him down and escape Knilin’s spell. He formed two spheres the size of sacks of grain and directed them at himself. He laughed maniacally and then exploded into a ball of magic the diameter of a person. It shot toward Knilin with alarming speed. Winthrop dared not release his magic and cover his nose even though the stench of the dark magic was unbearable.

  Instead, Winthrop changed course with his hands and shot a reinforcing ball at Knilin that reached moments before the darkness did. Knilin fought the ball with his own magic, slowing its forward momentum. Winthrop continued his stream of power, strengthening Knilin. Winthrop’s muscles screamed out in pain, his might nearing the point of exhaustion.

  Knilin yelled at the top of his lungs. He struggled to stop the dark magic. He managed to step backward, giving him more room. The muscles on his forearms flexed and his veins bulged like they would burst. Knilin jumped to his left while pushing the sphere to his right. He landed out of its reach, and it continued to fly parallel to the ground towards the mountains.

  Winthrop released his magic. He spared a glance in the direction of the dark energy. It flew away from him, crashing through trees breaking them like toothpicks. He fell to the floor, tasting blood in his mouth. An explosion that rung in Winthrop’s ears clouded any other sounds for several minutes.

  Winthrop lay on the floor, unable to move. A light wind carried smells of ash, pine, wood, and decay. After some time, he heard Knilin make his way to Winthrop and fall next to him. He continued to catch his breath. "You...did...good...Winthrop," he said, a word each breath.

  After some time, they managed to walk to the carriage and direct the horses back to the village. The sun had risen and revealed the destruction caused by them and the traitors. Trees laid in every direction and splintered wood littered the floor. Animals began to venture back to the area, their habitats ruined by the events that took place.

  Winthrop sat back and let the repeated sounds of the horses walking lull him to sleep.

  #

  When Winthrop and Knilin entered the village square, Winthrop fell more than stepped off and allowed Markus to support him. He imagined a lion picking up one of his cubs. Linette ran over to them, lines of worry filling her face.

  "What happened?" Linette asked as she poked his wounds.

  “Ouch,” Winthrop shouted.

  “Sorry,” she replied as she continued to hurt him.

  "Atwix and Zyadrin attacked us," Winthrop replied.

  Markus led him to the steps outside of the village town hall. Winthrop sat down, closing his eyes as he wondered why that hurt so much. Knilin remained by the carriage and spoke with the villagers.

  "Why?" Markus asked, crossing his arms.

  "They wanted to recruit me."

  "I don't understand, why?" Linette asked.

  "Zyadrin said my dad joined the Decayed first. I think they hoped I’d be as strong as he."

  "What? That can't be true. Why did he save a village from the Decayed if he was one of them?" Markus said.

  "Knilin couldn’t explain during the attack. I think it’s true.”

  "Do you have the dark talent?" Markus asked. Linette elbowed him in the stomach, causing him to lean forward.

  "No, it's okay. I passed for the Order of the Ox. They attacked us before the dark magic test. What about you two?"

  "I'm the Order of the Eagle and he hasn't tested yet," Linette said. Winthrop sighed.

  Knilin stumbled over to them. Gray lined his hair and wrinkles near his eyes stood out.

  "Say your goodbyes. We will leave for the King's castle at first light tomorrow. The Council of Light will have many questions and will explain the details around your father’s death. Markus requires testing, and your test isn't complete. Linette's training starts soon."

  Markus carried Winthrop home. He changed out of his clothes that contained several smells he preferred to avoid. Then, he fell onto his soft bed and several thoughts and emotions vied for his attention. His resolve hardened. He'd demand the Council of Light give him the full truth about his father. He was happy that he passed the test for the order his father chose before he died but sad that he and Linette would part ways. He hoped Markus might follow the same path as him, providing companionship. Before he succumbed to sl
umber, his mind turned to his encounter with Atwix and Zyadrin. Winthrop chose to push that thought away and not digress into something that hindered his much-needed sleep. The sounds of his siblings filled the small house, but nothing could stop him entering his dreams.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Day 2 - Morning

  “Winthrop, get up,” Knilin barked, “we need to leave, now.”

  Winthrop rubbed his eyes and sat up. His eyes blurred before focusing. Knilin slapped his arm, helping bring the world back into focus. He kicked off his blanket, grabbed his pants, and put them on. He discovered that night still reigned outside and that Knilin had interrupted his much-needed sleep.

  “Why are we leaving so early?”

  “We should have left last night, but neither of us stood a chance of walking twenty feet let alone traveling all the way to Claybury. Leave everything, we travel light. Hurry, Linette and Markus wait for us outside. We need to make it to the castle before nightfall with the news of the attack.”

  Winthrop kissed his foster mom’s forehead while she slept. After scribbling her a note, he left his home of the past ten years. He paused at the exit. He felt tears accumulate in his eyes, distorting his view of what he would no longer call home.

  Outside, Markus and Linette stared out into the dark sky. The nighttime bugs continued their symphony of noises, composed and orchestrated by the Creator. Markus wiped his eyes and continued to stare at nothing. He crossed his arms over his chest, helping his frame from slumping. Linette also stared, but within the first few minutes she glanced back towards her father’s house. Her brows furrowed, her face was taut, and she looked ready to run. “Where are the horses?” Winthrop asked.

  “We don’t need them. Come, walk quickly. Jog if you need to keep my pace,” Knilin said. He jogged faster than the average person, observing that Knilin glided more than stepped. The gray streaks that appeared yesterday after the ambush glimmered in his hair like the reflection of moonlight on an unsheathed sword.

  Knilin jogged, but the three of them ran out of their hometown of Pinemere. Leaving meant a lot to Winthrop. He could only imagine what it meant to Linette and Markus. He assumed Linette’s fear belonged in part to what her father might do when he discovered she left to learn magic. Old man Geoffrey never liked magic. He thought it weak to rely on something that depended on emotions. No one ever told him that his regular outbursts of anger made him one of the most emotional people in town. Yet, cowardice is an emotion as well. Winthrop beat himself up for that. He’d stood up to Linette’s father once, but after the swift backhand to his face, Winthrop fell into a pile of mud and never got back up. At least, in the figurative sense. Once he learned magic, he’d help bring justice to the world, starting with putting Geoff in his place.

  Markus stood there with jaw tense and firm. It was a look that Winthrop knew intimately from the hours they waited each year to hear the results of the annual tournament. It frustrated Markus to wait so long for something so clearly his. The events of yesterday delayed his entrance into the Order of the Lion and it’d bother him until they completed his testing.

  The road out of Pinemere winded around the forest until it reached the King’s road. The scent of pine filled his nostrils, helping to bring his mind fully alert. After Atwix, a master from the Decayed Order, killed one master wielder yesterday, Winthrop maintained a frequent scan of the woods for enemies. Zyadrin betrayed her Order--Winthrop’s Order--and revealed the truth about his father—Jack the Ransacker.

  Winthrop had played The Orders ever since he moved to Pinemere. The game involved a deck of cards which each player filled with wielders they bought, traded, or collected from traveling merchants or with their friends. Each card displayed a famous magician and the cards strengths matched those of the actual magician. Many of the characters on the cards died long ago, but some represented living magicians. When Winthrop learned yesterday that his father belonged to the Decayed, he had asked Knilin his name. At first, he refused to tell, but on second thought, Knilin told him. He had said that Winthrop would find out eventually and it was better coming from Knilin. Jack the Ransacker was one of the strongest of the Decayed cards. His strengths were pillaging villages and taking no prisoners. Winthrop didn’t have that particular card, but he’d seen it in play before. Tears flooded his eyes. He both wanted and didn’t want to see that card again. He checked the woods again and caught up with the rest of his friends.

  Once at the King’s road, it followed an almost straight line to Claybury, where the King’s Castle resided. Winthrop had never traveled outside of Pinemere after moving there. When they found a foster family for him, he had no reason to leave. He wanted to visit his hometown, but his foster family struggled enough to get by. Traveling belonged to richer families than his. After his parents died, they’d taken him to Claybury where the Council of Light fed him their version of his father’s life. Before then, he lived in a small village not labeled on any maps. They called it Dundleberry.

  Once they reached the King’s road Knilin stopped them. “I need all of you to listen. Are you as alert as mid-day?”

  The three of them nodded. Winthrop’s last vestiges of sleep clung to him like running into a spider’s web.

  “What you are about to experience is called travalling. It’s a mix of traveling and falling.” The fogginess in Winthrop’s brain left him like a pig running from slaughter. “Don’t fret. I’ll remain in control of each of you. Travalling will allow us to reach Claybury before nightfall. It’ll take most of my energy and I’ll probably lack the ability to inform the Council of Light about the Decayed’s attack. So, the three of you will inform them in my stead. It’s best if you relax and let me steer.” Knilin formed a white sphere in each hand and shot them at Winthrop and Linette. It felt like someone pushed him off of a cliff, the wind gathering speed around him, flapping his cloak against his face. It took Winthrop a few moments to identify the loud noise stabbing his ears—it was him screaming.

  Day 2 - Morning

  Linette lost her breath when the magic first swept her off the ground. She clutched the once full, but now empty, vial necklace her mother used to wear, making sure she didn’t lose it during their travels. Her mother had thrown the dark liquid at her father the night before she ran away. It only served the same purpose as throwing a glass of wine on someone—it provoked her father. She spared a glance at Winthrop, the one person outside of her mother who dared defy her father. She heard Winthrop screaming over the wind flying past her. She hadn’t noticed him much until now. Her focus had remained on the direction her father would come from if he awoke and noticed her missing. It worried her that Knilin, Markus, and Winthrop traveled with her. She wasn’t worth the trouble her father brought when provoked.

  Fortunately, she managed to stop Knilin’s banging on the front door to her father’s house before he woke up. She insisted he keep quiet. He performed some magic that made her feet glow white. She took a step and it felt like she weighed half as much. With less weight, they didn’t make another sound on their way out. Still, her body tingled and she kept imagining her father storming out in his underclothes screaming like thunder about her future—one without magic.

  Knilin gathered Markus and Winthrop and off they went. She looked over her shoulder every few minutes until they reached the road. With no sign of him, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her body relaxed and she nodded to something Knilin said, not paying attention, and then she felt a weight off her shoulders. She hurtled sideways like someone throwing a rock and she was the rock. Winthrop began expressing his distress, pulling her attention to him. He stopped and took a deep breath.

  She knew Winthrop loved her. She loved him, too, but like a brother. She took another look at him and he stared deeply back into her eyes. Linette turned her gaze toward Markus, her way of urging Winthrop to look elsewhere for love. She needed to put an end to Winthrop’s hopes for her hand. Now that they’d join different orders, they wouldn’t see much of each other anymore. M
arkus and Knilin conversed about something she couldn’t hear through the noise of air whooshing past her. It felt cool, but not cold. The warmth of Summer removed the briskness of Spring. They continued to fall for many hours. Winthrop tried to start up conversations, but Knilin did a poor job of keeping them close enough to hear each other over the wind. They spent most of their time yelling “what?” to each other until they gave up and let the wind carry them.

  Around mid-day, her world pivoted ninety degrees again and she landed on her feet. Winthrop rolled a few times and unfolded onto his back. She helped him up, confirming no serious injuries.

  “About time. I’ve had to…” She jogged off to take care of business. When she returned, Knilin sat on a log a few dozen feet into the forest along the King’s road. The trees stood like sentinels blocking them from the view of the road. She joined him and so did Markus and Winthrop. Knilin pulled out bread and dried meat from a pack he carried on his back for them to share.

  “What was the hurry this morning?” Markus asked.

  “We need to inform the Council of Light about the attack. If Atwix managed to convince Zyadrin to betray the light then he may have converted others.”

  A breeze blew by them and Linette, bringing with it a mixture of smells: Pine—the strongest, but a hint of something off, maybe mold.

  “How much farther?” Markus asked. Knilin jumped up and held up a hand, signaling them to stay quiet. He sniffed the air a few times.

  “Wait here. I believe a Decayed travels through this forest.”

  They nodded, but Linette had to see for herself. She tried to pinpoint the smell again but struggled to discern it. She allowed Knilin time to gain some distance but followed. She treaded carefully, keeping noises to a minimum. The trees grew closer together as she followed Knilin deeper into the forest. They served as good cover but caused her to lose Knilin a few times. She knew they had found the Decayed when the air changed from a nice pine scent to something rotten. Knilin stood twenty yards ahead of her, slipping behind a few trees. Linette continued to follow, stopping when she heard rustling behind her.