He had waited a few days for the panic to really set in before he had appeared before Lord Akzal, as he had now, and offered him a choice. Lord Akzal would do whatever he ordered him to do and Yannick would provide the kingdom with water, or Yannick would reveal that the basis of his power was a lie and then leave the entire kingdom to die.
“How are the preparations going?” Yannick demanded imperiously.
Lord Akzal swallowed nervously, pale beneath his dark skin. “We are slightly behind schedule.”
Yannick’s eyes flashed, and he raised his hand, making purple sparks of magic dance about between his fingers. “You don’t wish to disappoint me, Akzal,” Yannick growled.
“I will have everyone work longer hours. It will be done,” Lord Akzal said hastily. He tugged on the collar of his robes, and Yannick could tell he was sweating.
“Remember what I promised you. I’ll let you rule your little kingdom; I have no interest in your petty concerns,” Yannick sneered, gesturing at the scrolls that littered the table. “But you must conquer Bakscaronia for me.”
Lord Akzal bobbed his head. “We are almost ready to declare war. We will march on the capital of Bakscar and force their submission.”
A smirk started to tug at Lord Akzal’s lips before he banished it. Yannick hid his own smile at witnessing that tell. It was most amusing that Lord Akzal thought he was getting one over on him. After all, Yannick might have ordered them to wage war against Bakscaronia, but it was something they would have done anyway because there was an intact artifact in Bakscar.
Yannick knew that Lord Akzal was planning on taking Bakscar’s artifact for his own. Then, in Lord Akzal’s mind, they wouldn’t need him anymore. They thought him shortsighted and stupid, too dependent on magic to see beyond his own plans to other options that they had. They had no idea that he was really manipulating them, using their own greed to motivate them to fulfill his orders.
He could have gone to Bakscar, taken their artifact, and offered that kingdom a similar ultimatum. However, while he could take power like that, it wasn’t power that would last; the potential for rebellion was too great. He needed people to submit to his rule or they would riot and devolve to anarchy.
“Now, have you any prisoners that won’t be missed?” Yannick asked.
Lord Akzal paled further and nodded. “I will have them brought to your quarters.”
“Excellent.” Yannick smiled cruelly.
He would get to both indulge his bloodlust and remind Lord Akzal the penalties for crossing him. It was efficient and enjoyable. Perhaps next time he would take the prisoners with him, and use them to test the Emperor’s devices. That would not satisfy him today, though. Today he just wanted them to suffer.
*****
Meanwhile, Leo was slumped against the wall behind the straw pallet that passed as a bed in this world. Their hosts had been solicitous in providing as much water as they asked for, which was a lot, but had otherwise kept their distance. Leo couldn’t blame them. The room reeked of sweat and sickness. It was like he was trying to sweat all the bacteria out of him.
“Hey, Leo,” Nick hissed, waving him over. “Listen to this.”
Leo moaned pitifully, and slowly levered himself up from the cot and staggered over to the other side of the room. Nick had the bed near the door, which they had propped open for some fresh air, hoping to get rid of the stale musty scent of sickness rather than ferment in their own stench.
He could hear the low tone of presumably a Gatlan knight. Their voice was carrying down the corridor, but Leo still had to strain to hear the conversation. He frowned, wondering what had gotten Nick’s attention, when he heard the word ‘Sintiya.’ Leo raised his eyebrow and nodded at Nick. This could be useful intelligence.
“She’s a monster. A woman, and she sent him back butchered into pieces,” one knight said darkly.
“Perhaps it’s the magic, it’s made her evil,” another knight suggested.
“Magic doesn’t make people evil,” a third knight argued. “Our King would not consort with a sorcerer if that were the case.”
“Yeah, but magic …” the second knight started. Leo could practically hear the distaste and fear dripping from his tongue. “It is unnatural.”
“Perhaps if you had been born with magic, you would feel differently,” the third knight pointed out dryly.
Leo smirked at Nick. He liked this guy. He sounded like Mathis, a knight who had an open mind. Mathis had told them a little about magic, and Leo knew enough about human nature to understand how it was regarded—with fear and jealousy. People would want the power for themselves, but it seemed to be something they had to be born with. The luck of the draw, which would always feel unfair.
People always feared what they didn’t understand, and Leo himself wasn’t totally comfortable with the idea of magic. It went against the natural order of the world, and it made for a life without limits. How did they know what was or wasn’t possible, with something like magic in the equation?
“What do you imagine she did to him?” the second knight continued, his tone hesitant.
The first knight snorted. “She butchered him, you saw that for yourself.”
“No, I meant with her…magic. What if she did something to him?” the second knight asked with obvious fear.
There was a pause in the conversation as all three of the knights thought about that for a moment. Nick shrugged at Leo, who nodded back. It was a fair point. The body could have been something of a Trojan Horse, a booby trap; they’d seen bodies used like that on Earth a few times. It was disrespectful to the dead, but then the dead were beyond caring.
“We need to take care of it,” the first knight suggested.
Then Leo heard the sound of metal boots shaking the timber floor as the knights moved to leave the barracks. That had been interesting. He had known—though he couldn’t remember if it was something Mathis had told him, or something he had heard while in Termont—that Queen Eleanor of Sintiya had the power of magic.
It was a fact, and it didn’t really seem to change anything. It was an additional danger should they cross Sintiya. However, each kingdom seemed to have access to a sorcerer, so even without Eleanor having magic of her own, he doubted Sintiya would have been any different.
He didn’t know why Eleanor had sent back the envoy in pieces, but he hadn’t been born yesterday, and King Oswald’s laments of innocence didn’t entirely ring true. In his experience, situations were usually never that clear cut, and both parties likely held some of the blame.
“Superstitious lot, aren’t they?” Nick remarked.
Leo shrugged and stumbled back over towards his pallet. “Replace magic with technology and aren’t we much the same? It’s more paranoia than superstition.”
He still felt weak as a newborn baby, but the sickness was starting to abate. Leo doubted that they would be able to travel tomorrow, but hopefully they would be able to begin their trip back to the border the day after. They would have to see how they felt, of course, but he was confident that they would be recovered enough by then.
The urge and itch to keep moving was undeniable and almost overwhelming, but they needed to be smart about it. Traveling all day, even with horses, was very tiring. They wouldn’t save Earth if they collapsed somewhere. They would have to evaluate their condition tomorrow.
*****
Eleanor fidgeted impatiently. Magic shielded her presence in the corner of Prince Edmund’s very understated throne room. There was a decoratively carved wooden throne, and two smaller thrones, in the opposite corner from where she was hiding. However, the room was dominated not by the throne, but by a large roughhewn table.
The table was littered with maps and scrolls. This was a room of function, not of splendor. Prince Edmund was alone, seated at one corner of the table. He was dressed in his customary white tunic, with golden trimmed blue sash fastened with a metal insignia of Kaslea, the dove on the anchor. A sword hung on his hip in a polished black sc
abbard, its golden hilt glinting in the light from the windows.
It was something of a uniform for the young prince, a custom neither Gatlan nor Sintiya followed. They had a tendency to wear the colors of their kingdom, especially on formal occasions, but beyond that they had their own style. Eleanor favored dark, elegant gowns. King Oswald favored loose, rich robes to stretch across his obscene bulk, and furs to display his wealth. Eleanor smirked. Or perhaps more to the point, where Gatlan’s wealth had gone, given that the kingdom’s coffers were all but empty.
She was waiting for her knight envoy to arrive. She had sent out the envoy the moment she had been officially informed, ordering the knight to swap horses and to hand the note to a rested knight at the border in order for them to ride all night. The message to Prince Edmund had to get there without delay. Once the envoy arrived and gave the scroll to Prince Edmund, she could use her magic to expedite matters. It would be dangerous for her to use magic before then; it could be misconstrued as an attack.
Eleanor didn’t showcase her magic much, even though it was known outside of her kingdom now. She had stopped keeping it a secret once she had assumed the throne. However, she rarely demonstrated it outside of her own palace. Some likely questioned her power; others were merely relieved that she did not use magic in the war. It was something of a taboo. Wars were conventional, even if both sides usually had pet sorcerers.
However, using her magic to expedite the process seemed perfectly reasonable. After all, her people had been murdered, and as their queen, she was understandably angry about that and she wanted justice done as swiftly as possible. No one was likely to complain; they had as much invested in resolving this as quickly and as peacefully as possible. After all, they didn’t know that her aim was very different, and that a peaceful resolution wasn’t going to happen.
Finally, there was a knock at the door. Prince Edmund looked up. “Enter,” he called.
A Kaslea knight pushed open the door and respectfully strode into the room. He dropped to one knee, clasping his right arm across his chest in respect. “Your Majesty, an envoy from Sintiya has arrived with an urgent message.”
“Show him in,” Prince Edmund ordered, rising from his seat.
Eleanor expected him to move to the throne, but he didn’t. A moment later, her envoy hurried into the room. He bowed and held out the scroll she had entrusted with one of his comrades. The Kaslea knight took it and handed it to Prince Edmund.
“Do you need to wait for a response?” Prince Edmund asked, curiosity etched on his features. With a start, Eleanor realized that he had no idea what this was about.
“I have been given no orders on the matter,” her envoy replied awkwardly.
Prince Edmund unrolled the scroll and started reading. He frowned, and then his eyebrows shot up before a worried expression settled on his face. He strolled back to the table and sat down. Eleanor raised an eyebrow; the throne would have been far more appropriate. Did Prince Edmund have no sense of protocol?
She could see his eyes scanning the scroll, reading its contents for a second time, and his expression intensified. It spoke to her of abject fear and concern, which was exactly what she wanted him to feel. He had thought the Northern Kingdoms were an ally for Kaslea, but now he was wondering if that had been a lie, his marriage merely the first step in taking over his kingdom.
Once married, if something happened to him, without an heir, it would leave his poor young widow to run the kingdom. He had recently just witnessed Sintiya change rulers like that. Eleanor had been ruling Sintiya for over a year now, but that was a relatively short time, and it would still be fresh in his memory. Although, Prince Edmund wouldn’t be aware precisely how similar the two situations might be because Eleanor knew that her deception had been accepted.
For all her actions after seizing control, she had never heard one whisper that she had been behind the king’s assassination. Her father, Lord Mortimer, had been framed and hanged for the crime. His ambition had been well known, and nobody had questioned his guilt—it had seemed obvious.
In the scroll, she had explained that if he was of the mind to accept hosting the diplomatic summit, the peace accord between Sintiya and the Northern Kingdoms, he should scratch his signature on the scroll. Before her eyes, Prince Edmund reached for a quill and did just that. A slow smile spread across Eleanor’s face.
She had been certain that would be his response, but it was gratifying all the same. His agreement made sense, because the last thing Prince Edmund would want was another war ravaging the immediate kingdoms. The war between Sintiya and Gatlan was enough, and causing Kaslea problems on their border.
A war between Sintiya and the Northern Kingdoms wouldn’t likely encroach on Kaslea territory, but with those kingdoms at war, it wouldn’t be territory that Prince Edmund was concerned with. Kaslea had managed to remain neutral in the war between Sintiya and Gatlan, but the Kaslea alliance with the Northern Kingdoms wouldn’t permit Prince Edmund the luxury of neutrality.
Kaslea would likely be dragged into the conflict, despite not believing Sintiya was their enemy, and would therefore share in the resulting devastation that war always brought. It was a nightmare scenario that Prince Edmund would want to avoid at all costs. Eleanor smirked. He would avoid bloodshed, at least until the prince was forced to declare a war of his own.
There wasn’t a magical spell that she was aware of which could wait for a trigger such as a signature and then transport the enchanted object. However, a big part of magic was putting on a good show, and that was half the reason why she was cloaked in magic in the corner of the throne room. The other half was her impatience; she had wanted to witness his reaction live and hadn’t been disappointed. His expression had been something to witness.
With a careful wave of her hand, a brilliant flash of crimson flame heralded the arrival of another scroll. It appeared a foot above her envoy’s hand. The knight caught it deftly and handed it to the Kaslea knight, who swiftly passed the scroll to Prince Edmund, who unrolled it and quickly scanned the text. In it, she explained that she would be prevailing upon the Northern Kingdoms to make use of their sorcerer so that the summit could begin as soon as possible, before there were any more incidents.
At the mention of more incidents, Prince Edmund visibly swallowed and nodded fervently, his eyes wide at the thought, even though to his knowledge she was not there to witness his response. His hand trembled slightly, and then she saw him pull himself together.
“Have my knight commander report to me at once,” Prince Edmund ordered his knight. He looked over at her envoy kindly. “You may rest in the barracks guest quarters until the morning. See he is given fresh supplies.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Her envoy bowed his head.
“It will be done, Your Majesty,” the Kaslea knight said respectfully.
Both knights turned and left. The moment the doors swung shut, Prince Edmund sighed and put his head into his hands. Eleanor scoffed at his weakness, although she supposed she was intruding on a private moment. Prince Edmund had his back to her corner, so she was safe to leave. Eleanor concentrated; for less than half a second she was visible to the room, and with barely a flicker of light, she transported herself back to her personal quarters in her castle.
She didn’t feel the need to witness his orders to make ready for the summit the following morning. If things weren’t to her satisfaction when she arrived, she would soon tell him.
Chapter Nine
The following day, it was a subdued three marines who started the journey back to the frontline. They were still recovering from their bout of food poisoning and were feeling a little tenderized. That lost time, plus the fact that this was essentially redoing a previous mission, weighed heavily on them. That they had wasted three days already for this quest was undeniable, and Leo felt responsible.
It had been his idea to shoot out the water barrels and walk the line. He had thought that they were being clever, playing both sides, but i
t seemed the old adage was true. The only thing they would get from sitting on the fence was splinters somewhere very uncomfortable. At least Gatlan had proven they could be trusted.
King Oswald hadn’t had to give them the supplies, considering he hadn’t been satisfied with their work, but he had. If they were going to risk making an enemy of Sintiya, Leo felt that they now had cause to believe it was for good reason.
“What the hell is that?” Nick broke the silence, which had lasted for most of the morning.
He pointed into the distance, squinting in pain as the light reflected from something and bounced the bright noon sun straight into his eyes. Leo halted his horse, and the animal turned on the spot, snorting at the sudden stop.
“I don’t know,” Leo said slowly. Light could bounce off anything reflective, but it was something of an oddity in this world where construction was almost entirely wooden or stone. “Let’s check it out.”
Leo steered his horse in the direction of the bright light, which kept flashing intermittently every time the breeze whistled in the air. He winced as the light hit his eyes, turning his head away to save his vision.
The light appeared to be originating from the edge of the forest, on the other side of the farmers’ field. The land here had no doubt been forest in the past, but had been cleared for crops long ago. The field was dirt, the harvest having already been collected for the year. The horses’ hooves sunk deep into the soft, churned earth.
“It’s on the ground,” Don pointed out, slipping off his horse and jogging forward to the source. He kicked the protrusion with his boot and shrugged. “It’s metal, stuck in there pretty good.”
Justified (#2 Divided Destiny) Page 9