“He knew.”
“And you? Are you a wizard?”
Finally, Blodwyn was able to laugh. “I am not a wizard. I know very little about how magic works.” He stood up. “Perhaps I should make some tea. I believe none of us will get any sleep tonight. We might as well have some caffeine to assist us through the vigil.”
“Yes. That sounds good,” Grandfather said.
Blodwyn didn’t need to be told where anything was. He was as comfortable in Grandfather’s house as he was his own.
“You said you were Anna’s teacher. If it wasn’t magic you taught, then what?” Grandfather whispered the word ‘magic’ as if it were part of an evil curse, and saying it out loud would inflict damage on anyone close enough to hear.
“The eradication King Grandeer started may have ended long ago, but the crusade against magic and wizards was an ongoing one, even still to this day. King Grandeer created a special and of the most elite knights and called them the Watch. Their sole purpose was to travel across the kingdom in search of people with powers. They were given full reign over their finds. They could arrest, try, sentence, and carry out an execution. No one would question their actions, unless they wanted trouble. There had been stories of people falsely accused of magic. It became something of an epidemic at one point. Few were safe from the pointing of a finger, or the whisper in a tavern. If the Watch caught wind, either accidentally, or on purpose, their terror over the land was unleashed. Making a spectacle of their proceedings was how they operated. They thrived on fear.
“Grandeer’s son, King Stilson hosted many similar hunts, and sent his knights to the other realms under the old empire. Their sole purpose was flushing out magicians and wizards. King Nabal has done the same. Anytime there is even a rumor of magic, Nabal reacts with a show of force to apprehend and eliminate the threat. You won’t see wizard’s being hung in the court. Nabal doesn’t want anything magic inside his kingdom’s borders, or anywhere in the old empire at all if he can help it. He doesn’t even want people realizing it still exists. He, like his grandfather, declared that anyone who practices magic to even heal illness would be considered as guilty as a murderer. Like I said, the Watch act as judge and executioner on the road, the further away from Grey Ashland, the better. But you know all of this. We’re not that different in age. We’ve seen our share of bloodshed, both justified and otherwise.” Blodwyn lit a flame under the iron rack and set a water-filled kettle above it. “I was hired by Anna’s parents to protect her from such crusaders, and to do more than that.”
“More?”
“I taught her to defend herself without the use of magic,” Blodwyn said. He removed two mugs from a cupboard and set them by the kettle. “She learned how to handle staff, sword, and knives. She learned how to fight using her hands, her feet, her teeth, and most importantly her mind. How to think her way out of dire situations. I have done the same these last seventeen years with Mykal. At Anna’s request.”
Grandfather nodded. Although he didn’t yawn, the dark bags under his eyes showed how tired the man was. “That’s why Mykal keeps his weapons stashed in some old tree.”
“You know about the tree?”
He laughed. “Of course I know about the tree. Figured he’s a boy. Who doesn’t want a sword, and daggers? Only thing he’s ever shown me is that bow of his. Because it’s practical, I suppose.”
Blodwyn waited. If Grandfather had more questions, required more clarification, he’d ask. Otherwise, enough pieces of the puzzle had been provided.
Filling the mugs with grass tea, Blodwyn offered one to Grandfather.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the offered mug. He cupped it in both hands, as if soothing a chill in his bones. “And Mykal, he inherited his mother’s. . .gift?”
“I hadn’t seen any sign to indicate it. He’s never demonstrated any extraordinary abilities. Everything he’s accomplished appears to have been without the use of magic. He’s a fine young man. Strong, brave. You should be proud,” Blodwyn said.
“But you think he is also a wizard?” Grandfather said.
“I am not certain. I have kept a close eye on him. I’ve watched for any sign that might indicate he possessed such power. I’m being honest with you when I say he has never exhibited so much as magical sneeze in front of me. Nor has he come to me perplexed by something odd that may have happened. Anna, for example, would lose her temper, normal tantrums any teenager might throw, except that when she did, vases would shatter around her, or tables would tip.” He sipped his grass tea, and cringed. It burned his tongue. He blew on the tea as he sat back in his chair across from the older man. “She didn’t willfully destroy things. She just hadn’t yet learned to harness her emotions, or how to control her abilities. The magic was always in her, but like any talent she was required to religiously practice and continually hone the skill. It was imperative she do so. Otherwise by the time she reached adulthood she’d have been a danger to, not just herself but, those around her.”
“You said you didn’t think Mykal was a wizard until tonight. Why is tonight different?” Grandfather hadn’t taken a sip of his tea. Blodwyn suspected the tea would go cold, and be left on the table forgotten. It served as a prop, something he could do with his hands.
“Galatia may not be everything she claims. I haven’t decided if I trust her just yet. There is something about her, though. It makes me wonder. I’m inclined to believe most of what she is saying, but I am reserved,” he said. More truths. “I don’t know where she’s been all these years. Hiding, no doubt. Times were different back then. Emperor Rye was in charge of four kingdoms united as one. King Grandeer was Rye’s favorite among the monarchs, and after the death of his son, was sometimes given too much freedom to do as he wished. Everything is different now. Two of the kingdoms are completely gone, and as you know, the Osiris Realm is across the sea, but always a viable threat to our way of life. So, I am not sure why she’s chosen to come out of hiding now, to make herself known to us today. It makes me wonder if she has been close all along, perhaps in the shadows watching events unfold? Has she, like me, been keeping an eye on Mykal for some time?”
“You have questions, too,” Grandfather said. It was a statement.
Blodwyn nodded and allowed himself a thin smile. “I do. And like you, I am somewhat fearful of the truths which might be uncovered. What I do know, without even speaking to Galatia again, is that everything is about to change. There is something unnatural about coincidences. I don’t believe in them.”
It was silent in Mykal’s room. His conversation with Grandfather had been so involved, that he could not recall the last time he’d heard Galatia speaking. Curiosity ate at his insides like a dog gnawing on a bone. He desperately wanted to join them and see and hear what was taking place.
Giving the sorcerer time alone with Mykal wasn’t easy. He walked over to the door and listened, before opening the door. Inside, Galatia stood by the foot of the bed. Mykal’s body was covered in a sheen of sweat, but he was safe. He let that be enough for now. He gently closed the door and returned to the table.
He tried to settle down and relax. Anxiety served no purpose, whatever had happened behind the closed door was done, it seemed. All that was left was the waiting. “Something must be coming, but how do we prepare for the unknown? I want to be honest with you, Grandfather,” Blodwyn said. Knowing Anna is a wizard, and with the arrival of Galatia, Blodwyn had little doubt. “Mykal is a wizard.”
Chapter 8
Mykal knew he was dreaming. He was once again sinking into the depths of the Isthmian. He struggled toward the surface arms moving and legs kicking, but his efforts got him nowhere. His lungs burned, demanding air.
Below him the Creature, still with the arrow through its mouth, swam up at him. Only this time, in the dream, the thing was twice as big, with teeth twice as large. He would not escape its attack in the dream. It would get him.
He looked down at it. It opened its mouth so wide that the broadhead on
the arrow pulled free. At its current size it would have no problem swallowing him whole.
Only, it wasn’t interested in swallowing him whole.
The Creature gnashed its teeth once, and then again, as though letting him know death was going to be painful. It planned on chewing him up.
He still panicked—dream or not—and kicked his legs harder, moved his arms faster, all to no avail. He wasn’t any closer to the surface than he had been moments before, not that reaching the surface would offer any true safety. The Creature was inches from his feet, mouth stretched wide, teeth bared. . .
He wished the serpent dead.
The serpent caught on fire just before closing jaws closed on him.
Despite the salty sea water, the serpent was engulfed in flames.
Mykal lurched awake. He struggled catching his breath, but couldn’t fill his lungs with air. He shot forward and yanked away the covers. His body was dripping in a cold sweat. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. Blood rushed either to his head, or from it. Things became blurry, blinking and shaking his head only made him dizzier. He fell to the floor’s oak planks, panting and coughing. He was finally drawing breath, but not normally.
“Mykal! What are you doing out of bed?” It was Blodwyn. “Here, help me get him off the floor.”
“I think I killed that serpent, Wyn. I think I burned it up,” he said.
“I don’t know what that means.” Blodwyn reached under Mykal’s arms.
“The serpent should have killed me in the sea. I shouldn’t be here. I should be dead.”
“You’re not dead, Mykal.”
“Because I killed it. I don’t know how I did it, but I know I did. I know it was me that killed the serpent. It caught on fire. I burned it alive. I killed the serpent.”
Mykal attempted to right himself. Instead, everything went black.
***
His head felt cool, damp.
Mykal opened his eyes and felt the rolled up cloth on his forehead.
While the days were still hot and humid when the sun was out, signs of autumn ending were evident. Outside, it was raining again. Soon, the temperatures would drop and snow would fall instead of rain. The seasons changed fast. There was little overlap when it came to the weather.
He knew better than to sit up too quickly.
Remaining still, he applied pressure to the cloth. The heat under his skin subsided further. He cleared his throat.
Legs from a nearby chair scraped on the floor. “You’re awake.”
“Wyn,” he said.
“Don’t try to talk. Not just yet. Are you thirsty?”
The room was dark except for a lone, lit candle on the nightstand. “Parched.”
“Don’t talk.”
Mykal felt a hand slide under his neck and lift his head off the pillow. A cup was placed to his lips.
“Don’t drink too much. Just tiny sips. I don’t want you getting sick.”
Mykal did as instructed. His stomach growled. “I’m starving.”
“That’s a good sign.” Blodwyn was nodding, and smiling. “I will get you some broth in a moment. I just want to make sure you’re doing better.”
“My mouth feels really funny.” Mykal stuck out his tongue and reached for it with fingertips.
Blodwyn grabbed his arm. “Don’t do that. I’m going to need you to lie still for a minute.”
Mykal spoke with his tongue out garbling his words. He crossed his eyes trying to see. “Why? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“This won’t take but a few seconds,” he said.
“What won’t,” Mykal said, gripping the sheets with both hands.
Blodwyn reached in his leather bag, and removed a long stick. He held one end over the candle flame until it caught.
“What are you going to do with that?” Mykal asked.
“Be still now. Don’t move,” Blodwyn said, leaning over Mykal. “Open your mouth wide for me.”
“I don’t like this, Wyn,” Mykal said. He put his tongue back in his mouth and shut his lips as tightly as he could.
Blodwyn placed a hand on Mykal’s forehead. “Stop being a child and open your mouth!”
Mykal wanted to close his eyes, but didn’t. He opened his mouth a little bit, and his eyes wider.
“Open it!”
“I am.”
“Stick out your tongue.” Blodwyn commanded forcefully. Mykal had heard it before, many times, while training. Blodwyn was done playing around; this was serious.
It made no difference to Mykal. They’d been friends far too long for him to be intimidated by the tactic, yet because of that friendship, Mykal obeyed, opening his mouth as wide as possible.
“Now be still.” He kept the one hand on Mykal’s forehead, pressing his head against the pillow.
The stick still on fire, Blodwyn poked it into Mykal’s mouth, touching it to his tongue, only it didn’t burn him. He tried not squirming, that is, until something fell into the back of his throat. He gagged.
Blodwyn removed the stick. “Stay still.”
“I swallowed something.”
“It’ll pass. There are a few more. Open wide.” Blodwyn waved the burning stick.
“What will pass?”
“Shush!”
After several moments, Blodwyn blew out the flame. “There. Good as new.”
“What was inside my mouth?”
“You don’t want to know. Have some more water.”
Mykal took a long draw, then pressed fingertips against his throat. “What did I swallow?”
“How are you feeling?” Blodwyn asked, changing the subject. “You’ve had us quite worried. I almost gave in and went for the curer.”
“Have I been out the entire day?”
Blodwyn wiped the once-lit end of the stick with his tunic, and replaced it in his bag. “The entire three days.”
Mykal turned his head. Blodwyn’s staff leaned against the wall, never out of reach. “Three days?”
Blodwyn nodded. “Three and a half, seeing that dawn is just a few hours away.”
Mykal closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face. “All because of some snake in the sea.”
“Some snake? Have you never heard the stories of the monsters in the sea?”
“I thought they were just stories.”
“And now?”
Mykal laughed. “There are definitely monsters in the sea.”
“Definitely.” Blodwyn smiled and clapped his hands together. “How are you feeling?”
“Very sore. Every muscle and bone in me aches. I would swear one of the horses kicked me in the gut.” He wrapped an arm across his stomach, and sat up unable to get comfortable.
“Here, let me help you.” Blodwyn hoisted Mykal into a better position, situating the pillows behind his back. “And we should probably talk about the mysterious woman you met on the beach.”
“Karyn,” he said, as if talking to himself.
“Who?”
“The girl on the beach,” Mykal said. “I wanted to tell you about her, about our encounter. Seems I fainted before getting the chance.” There was something about Karyn he couldn’t figure out. Blodwyn had nailed it when he called her ‘mysterious’. It was more than just what she’d said to him. There was something exotic about her. Maybe it was the royal bloodline?
“Can you . . . describe her?”
Before Mykal could answer, the bedchamber door opened. Galatia walked into the room. “Why didn’t you tell us he was awake?”
“He just woke up,” Blodwyn said.
“Who’s that?” Mykal said. “And why is she wearing my mother’s blouse, and my pants?”
“Because they fit,” Galatia said.
“You didn’t see what she was wearing when she first got here.” Blodwyn looked at Galatia, one eyebrow arched. “Isn’t this the woman you met on the beach?”
“No. She’s not.”
***
Mykal had never before seen the woman who stood
at the foot of his bed wearing his only cloak. Her voice was familiar, though. He couldn’t explain how. It reminded him of music when she spoke; the strings of a guitar gently strummed, or of a flute lightly played with practiced breath. She was beyond lovely, likely the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He thought he could stare into her eyes forever without blinking. And her hair… its green should seem odd, but fell about her shoulders as naturally, as right, as a rose bush’s foliage. He felt the need to climb into his last clean pair of pants, toss on his tunic, and, since he wasn’t planning on asking for his cloak back, he’d wear the dark leather vest he’d made—the shoulders jetted out, the collar was stiff and rose away from his neck.
Grandfather now sat by the window. He somehow seemed years older since Mykal had last seen him, although only days had passed. Wrinkles creased his forehead more prominently; his cheek’s jowls sagged, pulling his lips into a perpetual scowl.
Blodwyn was standing by the nightstand with its candle, hand on his staff.
“I am not sure how much time is left,” Galatia said. Her green hair and red lips a sharp contrast against pale skin. “I am here to ask for your help, Mykal.”
“My grandson isn’t able to help. He’s sick,” Grandfather said. He looked at Mykal, his eyes silently begging for support.
“Mykal is not sick,” she said.
Grandfather raised a defiant hand. “What are you talking about? He’s been unconscious for days. He only woke up this night.”
“Remove the bandages on your stomach, Mykal.”
Her request was simple. Mykal felt the weight of her words. He looked up at Blodwyn as he reached for the tucked end of the wrap and peeled it away. The laceration was gone. There was no sign of the attack whatsoever.
“And your leg,” she said. It was not a question.
Mykal pulled the blanket away from his legs. Blodwyn stepped forward and unwound the cloth. Again, there was no sign of an injury. “I don’t understand,” Mykal said.
“You were cut up pretty badly,” Blodwyn said, touching Mykal’s leg.
“I remember that,” he said. “But you said I was out of it for three days?”
Severed Empire: Wizard's Rise Page 6