The Elementalist : Next of Kin: The Kothian Chronicles

by Andrew Wood

  Maxim was left to watch on as the large Icenian force divided itself into the predefined sections. Some of the smaller groups having to travel to the towns and villages to the east of Kothia, whilst his father waited until near the end before leading his larger force to retake the prize of Berxsley. The smallest party of two however, had the furthest to travel, as they had been given the task of going to Pitford. Joren had written several missives, explaining what his intentions were, and all being well, would be returning there himself with Kothia once more a free nation.

  With Joren and his group making the shortest trip, it was not long before he and his force were lining up just a half-mile or so away from the capital city. Their presence there had not gone unnoticed, and Joren could already hear the bells inside the city walls ringing, probably calling all the soldiers to arms. He had hoped to make their sudden appearance well noticed, as he hoped at least that way, most of the enemy would be where he wanted them; out in the open.

  Davan was sat still eating his breakfast when he heard the warning of the city bells, just as a messenger came running into the room he was using. "Sir, a large number of strangers, all wearing robes, are lining up just a short way from the city walls." Davan swallowed the food he was eating, a little confused, "And not soldiers?" he asked. The man shook his head, "No Sir, but by the way they are stood in rank they would appear to be...just not dressed the same." Davan scratched at the side of his face, deep in thought. Puzzled as to just who these people were or what they wanted, he decided it best to look for himself.

  After wrapping up warm, he ordered the bells to be stopped, "I think we know they are there," he snapped to one of the guards on duty, "We don't need to deafen everybody in the process," he added. Deciding it was easier to look from the roof of the Palace than to venture out to the outer wall, he could indeed see the army of robed figures stood in perfect lines a short way off. They were unlike anything he had ever seen before, "Who are you lot?" he mumbled to himself, "And more over what do you want?"

  One of his questions at least was answered a few moments later, as he watched the large force split into two and teleport nearer the north and west gates. "Bloody hell," he uttered quickly realising that an army of magicians was encroaching around him. He noticed his own forces taking up positions atop the wall, and felt confident his archers would soon repel any chance these unwelcome strangers had of breaching the city.

  Joren stood amongst the front line of his men as they moved to within a few yards of the northern gate. He looked up to see scores of archers looking down upon him, all preparing to fire. He ignored the arrows and crossbow bolts that then streamed down, as they were merely deflected away by the shield being held around the Icenian force. The high lord focused his will and thrust his hands forward hard, as the large metal clad oak gates burst open, spraying a deluge of splintered wood up in the air.

  As the debris settled, Joren moved his men forward, hoping the second team were mirroring his own actions at the western gate. Through the clouds of dust, several more volleys of arrows were sent his way, having as little effect as the first batch. A handful of enemy magicians darted forward in an attempt at grabbing him and those beside him, with a view to pulling them out of rank, and back to the Bosarian infantry lining up in front of them. Joren and his fellow magicians merely waved the enemy aside, slamming their bodies into the walls beside them.

  A mass of Bosarian infantry surged forward, swords held high as the cry of battle roared out. Joren had not wanted his fellow magicians to have to kill other people, but it was already apparent that engaging the enemy as they had would indeed result in fatalities. After initially forcing the advancing infantry back with a wave of his hand, it was clear the only way to eliminate the threat would be to deal with them on a more permanent basis.

  Joren stepped back and allowed the line of magicians behind him to move to the front. The Bosarians charged forward on mass once more, as the Icenians gave a demonstration of their true power. A wall of flame surged out and around, encapsulating the soldiers within. A chorus of yells and screams filled the air just briefly, as the enemy were instantly turned to fire. The dozens of scorched carcasses scattered the blackened stone street, as Joren and his followers pushed further into the city.

  Resistance only came in smaller numbers, but the Bosarians did not have anything or anyone powerful enough to stop them. The archers, who had previously rained down arrows upon them were quickly and viscously despatched. Joren had sent a dozen or so of his force up onto the wall to deal with them. Any person caught with a bow or crossbow was merely thrown from the top with a wave of a hand, and sent crashing down to their deaths below.

  Davan quickly received word that his forces were simply being brushed aside by the army of red-robed magicians. "We can't touch them Sir...," his messenger had told him, before adding how they had merely wiped out hundreds of men with a wave of a hand. Thinking of what best to do next, Davan had decided to take what he could and fight another day, ordering all his remaining men and magicians to drop everything and make their way to the east gate. As a result, within a few minutes of the order being given, scores of men and horses were quickly scurrying out of Berxsley with their tales firmly between their legs.

  Joren had the Icenians split up into smaller groups, patrolling each and every street, looking for anyone resembling a soldier or magician. The high lord had naturally allowed the enemy to escape, hoping that they would return peacefully to their own lands. Just in case they thought otherwise, he dispatched a small force of a dozen magicians to keep track of them, and persuade them back across the border if needed.

  Within two hours of them first appearing outside the walls, Berxsley was now in the hands of the Icenian liberators. Joren had felt troubled by the fact he and his people had been left little option but to kill hundreds of people in the process, and was feeling a little remorseful, until he reached the market square that was. In the centre of the large cobbled stoned area lay a number of bodies, some of which had been subjected to beheading; a sight that made his stomach turn and his rage boil. To his horror, he noticed that some of the bodies were those of women and children. Is this what the Bosarians had been doing to the people of Berxsley? If so, then they deserved everything he had been forced to use against them.

  The people slowly emerged from their homes, tentatively watching these new invaders as they walked the streets. Whoever they were, they showed no aggression towards them, and as they had sent the Bosarians fleeing, it was soon apparent they meant them no harm.

  Joren soon realised he needed to remove the bodies from the market square before he could allow the people back in that part of the city. He asked a few of his people to pile them up, and using their magical abilities, incinerate them; it may not have been a very fitting end for those poor souls, but it was the best he could give them at such short notice. Very soon, a cloud of billowing black smoke was all that was left to indicate anything had taken place there.

  As the smaller groups patrolling the city reported in to him, Joren felt confident the streets were as safe as he could make them. "Can you fetch my son, and start bringing the supplies," He asked. The man beside him nodded his head subserviently and carried out the request without delay. For now at least, Joren thought it best to use the one building in Berxsley he knew was vacant, that being the Royal Palace, although he would send several teams to check it was safe for him and his son to use.

  Maxim was bored standing around, although he had managed to use the technique his father had taught him to keep warm, his feet still felt the chill. He thought perhaps we was not doing something correctly, and as he did not want to ask one of the other Icenians with him, he resorted to slowing walking around in circles stomping his feet on the hard ground. To help alleviate the boredom he had taken to counting the crates and boxes brought ashore by the ships. After that, he had tried to guess what might be contained within them. Some he could tell quite easily as he could see through the slats, and contained d
ozens of sacks, of what he presumed was grain.

  Several large chests did keep his attention somewhat longer than the others did. These were not like the other crudely made package crates, but more the kind someone might use if transporting personal items. He remembered his friend Zack having something similar, although much smaller, at the wooden cottage in the forest where they had first met. Maxim sighed deeply as he reminisced the first time Zack had given him some fine clothes to wear, the first time he could ever recall anyone being so kind towards him. From that day on, he and Zack had become so close, and the more he thought about it, the more he wished he could be back in Pitford with him.

  His pondering was soon interrupted, as he noticed in the corner of his eye, two robed figures returning from further south. He quickly moved to their position wanting to know what had gone on, worried something had gone drastically wrong. Maxim need not have worried however, as one of the men explained the Bosarians had been dealt with, and his father was now waiting for him in Berxsley.

  Maxim was whisked away with the help of one of his father's men, covering the distance between the coast and the capital in little more than a few minutes. As he was escorted through the streets of the city, he noticed how fearful the people looked. His escort informed him of what they had discovered in the market square, and Maxim felt disgusted by what he was told. He tried not to think too long on it, deciding instead to think of the positives, the main one being that Berxsley was now free.

  He found his father waiting for him at the palace entrance, smiling as he neared. "I thought we could stay here for today," he said placing his arm around his son's shoulder, and leading him into the palace. Maxim's first thought, was that they were probably taking liberty's in what essentially was Anden's home, he changed his mind however when his father told him it would only be for one night. "First light tomorrow we go see your friends," he said making Maxim smile.

  By midday, Joren was receiving the reports he wanted, and as each came in, he marked it down on the map he was using. Naturally, it would take several days for the enemy to return across the border into their own lands, but for now at least, it appeared they were all heading the right direction. Joren knew he would have to have several dozen of his people act as escorts, just to make sure those retreating did indeed keep going the way they should, and not decide to regroup to make more trouble.

  As for his own casualties, it was clear that the enemy had little that could cause his own people any real harm. His only concern had been the Bosarians having a few powerful magicians capable of countering his own, but that fear had soon evaporated on his arrival at Berxsley. Providing his people held their concentration in the presence of the enemy, then there should be no reason why he should not remain without casualties.

  Despite the enemy being removed from Berxsley, it was quickly clear the people living there remained uncertain as to who these mysterious robed figures were. As a result, Joren had decided to make an announcement to the people. Firstly, he needed as many citizens as possible to make their way towards the royal palace; hence, he had duly sent his own men and women to spread the word. At the ringing of the city's bells, they should start congregating, and although he knew not everybody would attend, he hoped there would be enough to start spreading the message.

  As the sound of the bells rang out across the city, Joren watched on from the palace balcony, the position he had decided to use to give his speech. He actually felt slightly nervous at the thought of speaking to what was quickly going to be, far more people than he had anticipated. He looked down to see the people of Berxsley cram in to the palace grounds and beyond. Young and old, rich and poor, all stood side-by-side looking up towards him, waiting for him to start.

  Maxim stood a few yards further behind on the balcony, and was beginning to doubt how his father was going to be heard more than a few rows back. Naturally, he had not counted on him using magic to make himself heard, and could not help but be impressed as he listened to the man's words reverberate loudly around the city. Using his magical abilities to have the air carry his words, Joren made sure that even those gathered far to the back of the crowd would surely hear what he had to say.

  After introducing himself, he explained to those gathered where they had come from. He then moved onto tell them how their great king had fallen in battling the invaders, and paused just a little to here the gasps amongst the crowd before him. He continued with the news that the young Prince Anden had taken the throne, and made out it was thanks to the young monarch that the Icenians were now there to aid them in their plight. What started as a rather timid applause soon erupted in to something far louder, with the people cheering and chanting the young king's name.

  As his father turned from the crowd and made his way back into the room adjoining it, Maxim smiled, "That was a nice thing you did Father, giving Anden the credit for bringing you here to help." Joren smiled back and shrugged, "The poor lad will have trouble enough rebuilding his country, the very least I can do is let the people think he was the one responsible for saving them."

  The palace seemed a very large, cold, empty place to be. The rooms, although still furnished, and many left as they were the day Oran had fled the city, felt a little damp as Maxim wandered through them. His father had taken to using one of the small offices on the ground floor for his own use, marking off lists as each report from his people or crate delivered came into the palace.

  Chapter 30.

  Anden sat in his study, the members of his council beside him as he listened to the news they had prayed to hear. At first light, an Icenian force of magicians numbering over five hundred in number had landed on his northern coast. From there, they had divided up, and were, as they spoke, in the process of removing every Bosarian soldier or magician from his lands.

  Darion took a sharp intake of breath, impressed at the sheer size of force their new allies had sent. "Got to admit that the ginger lad came up trumps, I always said that boy would go far and do great things," he added. The others in the room all turned to look at him, "What?" he asked innocently. Ramon grinned and shook his head in disbelief, "Of course Darion you are well known for lavishing such praise on our younger members of society," he replied with a chuckle.

  Anden thanked the two Icenians who had travelled so far to give him the news, and asked his house staff to offer them warmth and refreshments. The young king then stared down at the three sealed letters upon the table before him, before picking one up, "Let us see what our new friends have to say," he uttered breaking the wax seal with his finger. After quickly reading it quietly to himself, he passed the missive onto Ramon to view, as he himself picked up the second and repeating the process.

  The third letter appeared different to the others, and Anden noted it was also written on different paper, that appeared much less formal and official than the other two had. This one he read with great interest, and was clearly surprised at the content within, so much so the others in the room could tell by the mere expression on his face. "Is it bad news? Is it about Maxim?" Zack asked worried his cousin had read something about his friend. Anden smiled at his cousin, "I would say anything but bad news Zack, but Lord Joren requests we keep things to ourselves for now."

  Zack had to wait his turn to read the notes, and although he was passed the others first, it was the last one he really wanted to see. The first note was just confirmation of what the two Icenians had just told them, that being the case of them landing a large force on the northern coastline. The second was more a list than an actual letter, as it gave the names of all the towns and villages the Icenians were going to liberate, and although Zack thought it quite impressive, his impatience was clear to see as he went to grab the third note. "Sorry Zack, this is not one you can read," Anden told him keeping the missive to himself. To say the young man was disappointed to be left in the dark was an understatement, and although he nodded his acceptance, he was clearly unhappy about it. Zack ran several reasons through his mind as to why he was no
t allowed to read the note when the others were, and the only reason he could come up with was that it was to do with Maxim. He started to worry something bad might have happened to his friend, and although he could already feel the anxiety building inside, he managed to keep his feelings calm.

  Although Connor, the young Bosarian boy who had aided Maxim's escape, and hence decided that Maxim was his master, was getting along fine, he missed the young man he had sworn to serve. His friends Tia and Samuel were fun to be around, as was having Shadow to play with, but the young lad thought something missing in his life. As Samuel had magical ability, his future already lay at Pitford, where he would be tutored further in using his skills. Tia being his sister, even if she showed no magical abilities, would stay with her brother either way. The young girl was already being given lessons in reading and writing, and doing well in both, Connor on the other hand, although offered the same was not so interested. He wanted to travel beside his new master, and not just be another scruffy kid with no future but shovelling dung from a stable.