“We destroyed their water supply,” Nick stated firmly. “Without water, there’s not a lot they can do.”
Oswald roared with laughter. His whole body shook with mirth. Don stepped forward, his jaw set. Leo grabbed his arm before he could say anything. This was just a misunderstanding; it was nothing they couldn’t work through. They could still have everything that they wanted.
“Water is everywhere in this land. Perhaps as strangers, you know not where to look, but I assure you, Sintiya does,” Oswald explained. “Your sabotage attempt was pitiful, and not what I expected after your heroic actions in Kaslea.”
The door to the throne room creaked open. Leo gasped, wrinkling his nose at the stench that wafted in. The smell was unmistakable; something or most likely someone dead had been brought outside the throne room. He twisted and saw a knight standing hesitantly in the doorway.
“Your Majesty, the envoy we sent to Sintiya has returned,” the knight reported. “He’s dead.”
Oswald’s eyes flashed in fury. “Bring him in,” he ordered, rising from the throne for the first time.
The smell of death and decay got stronger. The three marines swiftly got out of the way. Leo covered his nose and mouth to try and block out the gagging stench. This envoy had clearly been dead for some time. He was lying wrapped in a blanket, and only the top of his head and feet were visible. Three knights carried him into the room and placed him gently on the floor in front of the throne. They unwrapped the blanket, displaying the grisly sight for the king’s perusal.
Leo gagged. The stench had gotten worse, but beyond the smell, the body had been mutilated. The knight had been a large man in life, but he was now carved into pieces. Leo’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the wounds. The man had been mutilated while he was still alive. He shook his head in horror.
It was hardly his first mutilated corpse, nor even his first tortured body, but it never failed to disgust him. It was an unnatural thing to do to another human being. He and his marines didn’t work like that. If you had to kill someone, you did it quick and clean. Leo wondered what the knight had done to earn such a savage response. Nothing excused it, but this was a different culture, with different rules, and so maybe it was a more reasonable response for them.
Oswald shook his head sadly. “The brutality of Queen Eleanor never ceases to amaze me. That a woman could be so depraved as to do this to an innocent envoy…The man’s only crime was to carry a message, the message I ordered him to carry.” He slumped back onto his throne, his posture defeated, all trace of joviality gone from his features. He waved his hand negligently again. “Please, take him out of here. See that he has a decent burial.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the three living knights murmured.
They carefully wrapped the blanket around their fallen comrade, covering up his remains once more, even though all hope for dignity had long passed. Gently, they picked him up from the floor and slowly marched out of the throne room. The heavy wooden door closed firmly behind them.
“Unfortunate that you had to see that. However, that is Sintiya. They are barbaric, uncivilized. They attacked us without provocation, encroaching relentlessly on my kingdom. I fear Sintiya will not stop until Queen Eleanor controls all of the known kingdoms,” Oswald explained solemnly, his head lowered in respect. After a moment, he brightened and gestured for one of the knights by his side. “Fetch the supplies we promised these strangers.”
The knight quickly strode out of the throne room, disappearing from sight. Leo looked at King Oswald in puzzlement. “I don’t understand. You said we had failed your quest; we didn’t do what you wanted.”
“No, you didn’t,” Oswald acknowledged. “But I am a man of my word. We promised you supplies. Even though you did not earn them, they are yours. They belonged to your fallen comrades, after all.”
“Thanks,” Leo muttered, stunned.
He had thought he had an accurate assessment of King Oswald, but perhaps he had been wrong. Maybe he was more of a leader, and a decent man, than he had assumed. This was certainly generous, and as much as Leo didn’t like to admit it, it was more than Kaslea had given them. Leo liked Mathis, and had respected Prince Edmund, but they had done a lot for them for very little in return. This was a nice change.
“What about the weapon, and our way home?” Nick pressed.
Don nodded, his mouth twisted in morbid humor. “What will we have to do for that?”
“Where’s the sorcerer?” Leo asked, completing the trio of questions.
“Cain has other matters to attend to,” Oswald said dismissively. “You can still yet have everything you desire…if you prove yourselves worthy.”
Leo let loose a bark of laughter. He was so sick of that phrase. Cain might not have been here, but the trademark ‘prove your worth’ that he had come to associate with a sorcerer was still in play. Cyrus had played them like trout on a line, and now it seemed Oswald and Gatlan wished to do the same.
“What do you want us to do?” Leo said, resignation clear in his tone.
“What you were asked,” Oswald said simply. “Sabotage Sintiya’s supply line.”
“That’s it?” Don looked skeptical. He folded his arms and glared distrustfully at Oswald.
“For you to prove your worth, yes. To get everything you desire…no. I do not believe it is wrong, for me to ask you to do as you promised,” Oswald pointed out.
Leo sighed. “No, it’s not.”
They were basically being sent on the same quest again. This time, there would be no reward except for another quest. They had to prove their worth still, and it was three days of wasted time. They should have done the quest properly in the first place. Leo had hoped that they could skate, and now it had come back to bite them.
“It is clear you wished to not pick a side in the war,” Oswald noted knowingly. “Sooner or later, war makes everyone pick a side, and eventually everyone has to make a choice—even strangers from the unknown regions.”
Oswald’s words made Leo squirm uncomfortably. They had tried to walk the line, and now Oswald was calling them on it. However, Leo was now far more comfortable declaring for Gatlan. They had proven themselves honorable, when actually the marines hadn’t. They would now make that right, although it wasn’t as if they had much choice.
“We’ll do it,” Leo agreed.
King Oswald clapped his hands together, an oily smile on his face. “Good, good. You shall depart in the morning.”
*****
The tree had long since turned to ash. The flames had burned so hot there wasn’t even much smoke to speak of, but still Yannick hurled fireballs intermittently at the stump. He was fuming, and it was a good job he had self-control, or Gatlan would have been without its prince and heir by now. Begrudgingly, he had accepted King Oswald treating him like a servant, but the young Prince Frederick had taken things to a whole new level today.
He had gone to his father and with an earnest expression asked to borrow ‘Cain, the sorcerer’ for the day to discuss matters relating to the war effort. Oswald had ordered him to accompany the young prince, and Yannick was disgusted with himself at how readily he had agreed. He had actually been interested in what the prince might have to contribute on the matter.
Yannick didn’t think he could ever be accused of being naive, but he had never expected what the prince actually wanted to ‘borrow him’ for. It appeared that Prince Frederick was romancing the daughter of a lord several hours ride away. His father didn’t approve of unnecessary travel, given the war, so Prince Frederick had ordered Yannick to magically transport him.
That might have proven acceptable, except the prince had then ordered him to stay in the vicinity to provide protection and ostensibly serve as a chaperone, even though the moment they had left the manor, the prince had ordered Yannick to give them privacy. It was all Yannick could do not to flay the skin from his bones, or perhaps torture the girl he was with and then pin the crime on the dimwitted royal.
&nbs
p; Once again, he repeated to himself the necessity of the role he was playing. It was cold comfort, especially today, but he wouldn’t have to play this part much longer. Gatlan was finished; the marines would see to that. Just not soon enough.
“Cain, what are you doing?” Prince Frederick demanded imperiously.
He stepped out of the tree line, holding the hand of his pretty maiden. Yannick smirked. From the nauseating sounds he’d heard, it was possible she was a maiden no longer. He supposed it might be possible to turn that fact into entertainment somehow, which would salvage something from this infuriating day.
“Just practicing my magic, my prince,” Yannick explained. “Are you ready to return home?”
Prince Frederick nodded. “Once I have seen the lady back to the safety of her father’s house, we shall depart.”
“Then let us not delay.” Yannick gestured with a flourish for them to precede him.
His fingers twitched as he followed them down the path; it wouldn’t take much magic to adjust their clothing enough to cause suspicion. He sighed and let the sparks of magic fade from his hand. King Oswald would not be pleased if his son was embroiled in a scandal. It would likely only cause more work for him, and Yannick had wasted enough time with this foolishness. If he wanted entertainment, perhaps it was time he visited his other project to the south. He would transport himself there tomorrow.
*****
Don woke before dawn in a cold sweat, clutching at his cramping stomach. He groaned in pain and barely managed to stagger outside before dropping to his knees and vomiting on the dirt to the side of the knights’ barracks.
He wiped his sweaty brow with a shaking hand. He felt as weak as a kitten. There was no mistaking these symptoms—he had food poisoning. It was something that had happened to him before when he had to take rations ‘in country’ rather than relying on more secure sources like the freeze-dried MREs.
In a way, it was a wonder that it hadn’t already happened. Don had gotten sick during basic training. Everyone had, because they were from different parts of the country. The bacteria and the viruses would be different here, and they would have no immunity. The fact that they’d made it three weeks without falling ill was something of a miracle.
It didn’t feel very miraculous as his stomach cramped again and Don desperately cast his eye around, looking through the darkness of the night for the area designated for the toilet. It was a shielded area of the compound, several wooden stools with holes cut in them over deep holes dug in the ground.
The area was moved every few days and the hole filled in. Smelly and unhygienic, but it wasn’t like they had a sewage system here. Don groaned, feeling sweat drip down his face, stinging his eye. He wasn’t going anywhere for a couple of days, but if Leo and Nick were alright, then they could take care of the quest alone. They didn’t have to worry about him.
However, that minor shred of hope was destroyed five minutes later, when Don caught the sound of retching. It seemed whatever had been in their evening meal had really disagreed with them. The stew had been tasty, at least going down.
“Leo,” Don’s hoarse voice cut through the still night air. “You alright, man?”
“About as well as you,” Leo replied, laughing brokenly and groaning.
Don hated being unwell. He turned into an angry little child, brimming over with frustration. The fact that it was going to delay their mission made it even worse. This wasn’t the time for sickness or weakness; people were depending on them.
However, he wasn’t a fool, and he knew what call Leo would make. If they tried to press on regardless, that way led only to disaster. It would make their recovery take longer, and it was dangerous operating in the field at anything less than their best. It could jeopardize the entire mission, and that wasn’t a risk any sane soldier would be willing to take, even if the loss of a couple of days burned and made his heart pound with frustrated anxiousness.
The delay would only exacerbate his concern, which he was trying to hide from the others, especially Leo, who knew him better than almost anyone. This entire mission was based on a fool’s hope. They were searching for a superweapon based on some thousand-year-old stone carvings. It was a story, a dream, and he was no dreamer.
If he had too much hope and then that hope was destroyed, then that would hurt worse than a little well-placed pessimism. If he had doubts, then if Gatlan did betray them, it wouldn’t be such a hard shock. He really hoped that wasn’t the case and that they could trust Gatlan’s word.
Leo certainly seemed to believe that they could, and so far Gatlan had proved trustworthy. However, it just did seem a little convenient that Gatlan could offer them everything they wanted, when Kaslea had known of nothing that could directly help them.
All Kaslea had known about was a potential way home—the legend of the light in the darkness. They certainly had no superweapon, and Don had to question, if Gatlan had such a weapon, why hadn’t they used it in their war against Sintiya?
Cain had given them a reasonable answer, that the weapon didn’t work that way, as it couldn’t differentiate between Sintiya’s forces and Gatlan’s own. Something that wouldn’t be a problem on Earth, between the attacking Roswell Grey aliens and humanity. However, while it was reasonable, he still had lingering questions. Truthfully he wouldn’t feel confident until he was holding the superweapon in his hands and he’d seen it work.
“We’re lucky this hasn’t already happened,” Leo muttered weakly, unknowingly echoing Don’s earlier thoughts.
“Don’t feel that lucky,” Don gasped, clutching at his stomach again.
“Guys,” Nick moaned, emerging from the barracks.
Don saw him staggering through the gloom, holding on to whatever he could so that he stayed upright. Oh, yeah, they definitely weren’t going anywhere for a few days.
Chapter Eight
The next day, with a casual wave of his hand, Yannick transported himself to the ridge overlooking Dabarti, the capital of Estarana, his puppet kingdom in the south. Should a horse by able to fly, and thus ignore what made the journey impossible, then Estarana was only four or five days’ ride from the bottom of Kaslea to the north. However, the difference between the kingdoms was immense and quite something to behold.
The Emperor’s power was something that Yannick would never question—he had seen it for himself for the hundreds of years that he had served him. The Emperor had liked order, and there was a predictability to the layout of this land. The north was cold and mountainous, with green valleys and fast-flowing rivers, and the south was warm with open plains, deserts, and rocks.
If not for the Emperor’s generosity, it would have been a harsh existence in the south lands. They were separated from Gatlan and Kaslea by the unknown regions, which had made up the Emperor’s personal domain. That was where the ruins of his fortress lay, the unknown region marked clearly by the boundaries in the land—mountains, treacherous ravines, and cracked, dead earth where nothing grew.
Superstition said the land was cursed, and Yannick sometimes wondered if there wasn’t some truth in it, as animals hadn’t taken over the land despite a thousand years having passed since it was occupied. The land just couldn’t support life, not now that the Emperor had been banished and his power along with him.
However, some of the Emperor’s power remained. After he had awoken, Yannick had traveled the land, learning all he could about the thousand years he had slumbered. As one of the Emperor’s Dark Knight, his domain had been to the north, which was where he was now trying to build his primary powerbase. He had never been to the south.
Yannick squinted against the bright sun. Even first thing in the morning, it was already starting to be uncomfortably warm. A wave of his hand ensured that even in his customary black outfit, he would remain comfortable. The town was built out of the white stone from the neighboring cliffs. There were no forests to the south, so there were no wooden buildings, as wood was far too valuable for land construction.
The town was surrounded by a sea of lush crop fields, which provided everything the town needed and a little extra for trade. Everything else was sand, or cracked dirt. When Yannick had first seen the crop fields, he had thought perhaps the bright sun had made him take leave of his senses. How could anything grow in this heat? Then he had sensed it—the Emperor’s power—and the seed of a plan was planted in his mind.
Smirking, Yannick reached out with his senses, making certain that his target was where he expected, before he waved his hand and disappeared. With an unnecessarily large flash of purple flame, Yannick materialized in the office of Lord Akzal Dabarti, the leader of this kingdom.
Lord Akzal screamed and fell off his chair at his arrival, which made Yannick very happy. After having to hold his temper yesterday and serve Prince Frederick, being able to inspire fear was just what he needed. Lord Akzal looked at him with wide eyes, and nervously tugged on his beard.
“Lord Yannick, I was not expecting you,” Akzal exclaimed, his usual deep voice high with panic. He cleared his throat. “How may I serve you today?”
Yannick stalked towards Akzal, who backed away, almost tripping over his own feet. Idly, Yannick wondered whether Akzal would actually walk in a circle, trying to keep distance between the two of them. He sat down in Akzal’s chair, and put his feet up on the table, glancing at the petty legal scrolls Akzal had been busying himself with.
The Dabarti family, after which the capital was named, ruled this kingdom because they had been the guardians of the Emperor’s power when he fell. It was an artifact which somehow produced water, the lifeblood of this kingdom. Its true origins had been lost to time, and the kingdom now believed the Dabarti family had created it, and were the only ones who could operate it.
It was the base of their power and was housed in a compound, around which this decadent manor house had been built. This kingdom hated magic, even more than the kingdoms to the north, which was why Kevall had been traded to the Northern Kingdoms. Yannick had first considered the idea of revealing that magic was what powered the artifact, and therefore kept them alive. However, in the end, he had decided to do what was most simple, and he had stolen it.
Justified (#2 Divided Destiny) Page 8