“Nearly four,” Blodwyn replied.
Mykal looked from Blodwyn to his grandfather to the woman, then back. “This doesn’t make sense. I saw and felt the deepness of the wounds. If anything, I should be scarred. I should be bearing the marks from the dorsal fins to my grave. Am I wrong?”
“You healed your body.” Galatia put her hand on Mykal’s foot. “The power you used drained your energy. Using magic is like using muscles. The more it is practiced, the stronger you will get. The fatigue becomes less and less. Then your body will become more adept at spending the energy needed.”
“Power? Magic? I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” Mykal almost, instinctively, pulled his leg away. Her touch sent a vibration from his toes up his legs and throughout his body. There was nothing settling about the odd sensation, and yet he felt suddenly calm.
“Breathe slowly. In through your nose and out through your mouth,” she said.
After a moment, Mykal closed his eyes and did as instructed. The rhythmic breathing along with the steady hum inside his body from her touch relaxed every muscle in his once-tense body.
“How is that?” she said.
“It’s better.”
“I don’t like this,” Grandfather said. “This is going to lead to trouble. All of it. They have ways, I’m told. They know when magic is being used inside the kingdom. It’s like a beacon. Someone uses magic, and the king knows. He’s not going to like this. Knights are probably mounting horses as we speak. They’ll be here. Sooner or later they’ll come for you.” Grandfather stared at Galatia as he spoke.
Ignoring the rant, Galatia smiled at Mykal. It appeared genuine. Her eyes squinted kindly. “You healed your own wounds, Mykal.”
He almost laughed, but stopped at a crooked smile. “What does that mean? How did I heal myself?”
“You, Mykal, are a wizard,” she said.
And now Mykal did laugh.
Chapter 9
Mykal could not sleep. Everyone had left his room; his questions unanswered until morning. Lying awake, he used the slices of moonbeams which passed through the window to stare at moving shadows on the ceiling. The rain from earlier had stopped. Outside, he heard crickets, owls, and the occasional gust of wind that moaned as it ran against and then passed the house.
“A wizard,” he mused. His mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts. It didn’t matter how he tried to align them. They didn’t make sense.
The idea was too peculiar for consideration.
No one would explain to him who Galatia actually was. They obviously believed her claims and accepted that he was a wizard. He then recalled her speaking to him through his delirium. He realized now that this was how he had recognized her voice. He could again hear her telling him in soft, soft words to fix himself, to heal his body. Just because she’d said he should, didn’t mean that he had. If anything, she had used magic. She was the wizard. For some unknown reason, she had fooled the others leading them to believe that the power had been his, and that he had indeed healed himself. That thought alone was nothing shy of ludicrous.
He was not a wizard. That was the truth of the matter. It should be clear and obvious.
Mykal had seen the look in Blodwyn’s eyes, though.
Blodwyn thought Mykal was a wizard. Grandfather looked as scared as a man prepared to be hung in the king’s courtyard. This indicated that he too accepted Galatia’s. . .accusation. Once the king found out about this nonsense—they were going to get him killed.
What did they know that he didn’t? What were they not telling him? This was why he didn’t sleep. They’d insisted that he rest further. Galatia had insisted. She claimed that morning would be the time for questions and answers. She also said tomorrow morning would be a day for decisions, whatever that meant.
Removing the blankets, Mykal climbed from his bed expecting pain, he cradled his side, yet there was none. There wasn’t even the slightest discomfort. The only mild discomfort was the coolness of the floorboards beneath bare feet. Well, that and still feeling nauseated at having swallowed the things falling from his tongue. Blodwyn still hadn’t told him what those things were, which left Mykal’s mind free to conjure crazy images.
Pushing past it as best he could, he walked to his window and looked out on the farm.
The moon was surrounded by a handful of bright stars and lit the night better than a blazing fire. He remembered an occasion, while training with Blodwyn, when they’d seen coiling smoke rise against a darkening, lavender-colored sky. They fetched buckets, saddled horses, and raced toward the Kensington estate; the direction from which the smoke originated. Villagers were already there, and more arriving, battling the flames consuming Old Kendrick’s home. The closest water came from a deep stone well three hundred yards away. Mykal and Blodwyn joined the line of people from the well to the inferno. The people all working together, empty buckets made their way toward the well and full buckets went back to the burning house. Before long, night was upon them and only the light from the bright orange flames challenged the sky’s blackness. They fought the fire tirelessly, but lost. Mykal watched Blodwyn wrap an arm around the old man and walk him away from the ruins, to a small gazebo by a cluster of cypress trees. It was a side of Blodwyn that Mykal had never experienced. While they talked, Mykal stood in mud by the well, two empty buckets at his feet, and watched the fire as it blackened and ate the last of the structure. He would never forget the crackling and snapping of wood, or the heat that rolled off the house. Every hair on his arm and eyebrows had been singed from his skin.
He wasn’t concerned with the singed hair. It was the feeling of defeat that struck hardest, and seeing Blodwyn console a desolate Kensington for hours beneath the canopy of the gazebo. Everyone had banded together for the greater good, and had failed. The lessons were countless. Blodwyn covered them over the next several weeks, but made what happened sound positive. “People uniting to help one another. There is almost nothing greater,” he’d repeated again and again.
Tonight, however, the moon shone more brightly in the late-night sky than the flames had that evening several years ago. It did shine more brightly than those treacherous flames had, yet felt more ominous than the danger of any fire.
He thought he saw a lone figure standing under a tree just outside the railings of the fence, and although he could not see face, or eyes, he knew the person was staring directly at him. It was little more than a nondescript shadow, but he somehow knew who it was.
“Karyn.” He reached for his tunic, vest, and pants, and quietly left his bedchamber.
***
“I snuck out of the keep. When I went to sleep tonight, I saw you in trouble.” Karyn wore a white nightgown under a rich, sea-green cloak, its strings a knot tied at her throat. Through the shadows cast beneath her hooded head, the young lady’s blue eyes were illuminated; they glowed.
The earlier rain had not washed away the day’s heat. The humidity made his clothing stick to sweat-dampened skin. The air was so thick he drank it with each breath. “I had been cut by the dorsal fins of—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” She spoke softly. “I knew that already. I didn’t know at the time that the fins were poisonous. If I had realized that, I would never have left your side.”
Mykal smelled manure. It stood stagnate, trapped in the air. He was embarrassed; worried a princess might believe the odor was his and not that of the animals. What did she know about farmers? “I don’t understand you.”
“I knew about the serpent that morning. I wanted to warn you while you were still within the keep, not that you would have believed me,” she said. “I wouldn’t have believed me. There was no way I could approach you. Not then. Not there.”
She was right. He might have laughed at her. Not to her face, not even near her, but later on his walk to the sea.
“Besides, with the hangings, it would have been impossible to get away from the king, and the king’s eyes. I got to the beach as soon a
s I could, but it was already too late. I did my best to ensure that you were alright. I knew before we even spoke that you would survive. Just not about the poison. It wasn’t until that night that I understood why and how you would survive the attack. It’s why I’ve come back,” she said, and turned to retrieve a bag she had stowed behind the tree. “You are in trouble, and I am here to help.”
He thought of Galatia. Several days ago Karyn’s mystical concern would have been hysterical. Even now the idea that she was worried about him was odd. Considering what he’d been through and as little as he actually understood, he couldn’t dismiss her, her concerns. Not any longer. The more he thought about it, the more the timing of her arrival piqued his curiosity. “I’m not sure I understand any of this. I don’t mean to offend you. It just doesn’t make sense to me. You can see things. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I can.”
“Okay. What am I thinking?” he said.
“It’s not like that. It doesn’t work that way.”
“No. Of course it doesn’t.” He shook his head. “Look, I’m not doubting you, or your… ability. I’m just curious as to why you’re so worried about me? We don’t know each other. You’re the king’s ward. Royalty.”
She used both hands to lower her hood. Her hair was still braided. She stared at him, their eyes locked. “I’ve dreamt of you for years. Ever since I came to Grey Ashland, really. Only, I didn’t know it was you, specifically, in my dreams.”
“That’s what you told me before.” He wasn’t sure how that made him feel. It had the hint of a scam. What did he have worth stealing? A horse? A cow? A small piece of land? It didn’t make sense. Mykal prepared himself for the hook. The young woman must want something from him. He was a farmer, with barely enough to survive. There was nothing to give. “Okay. So you dream of me. What does that mean?”
“When I saw you in the courtyard, I was so surprised. You. The one from my dreams. I almost called out. I didn’t, obviously, but I watched you, and had you followed. The night before, I dreamt the serpents’ attack in the Isthmian as clearly as though it had been myself fishing and then struggling to stay alive,” she said.
Mykal looked back to the cabin, a predawn mist had begun to rise and almost-imperceptibly roll across the land. “You haven’t answered my questions.”
“What is your question?”
“Why me?”
“I don’t have the answer. I wish I knew. To say you’ve haunted the whole of my life is not untrue. I can’t escape my dreams, any more than I can the thoughts that fill my head. It is worse now because I know who you are, where you live. That you are real. I can’t help but come here to warn you. You say I’m royalty, like that makes me a bad person. I’m not. I am compassionate and caring. How can I ignore dreams if the consequences of inaction cause bad things to happen? I know two things.”
“And what are they?”
“You are in danger, and only I can save your life.”
Mykal closed his mouth tight. He refused to say the first thing that sprung to mind. She had come a long way to see him and didn’t deserve to be insulted. “But you don’t know what this danger is?”
She shook her head. “I saw you on the ground, struggling for breath. Blood was everywhere. Dead people surrounded you and you were dying.”
“And you save me from this?”
“I will be the only one who can,” she said.
“So how do I avoid it? How can I stay safe if I don’t know what to expect? You dreamt of the serpent. You said the vision was so vivid and real that it felt like it happened to you.”
“That’s true,” she said.
“But this imminent danger you dreamed of tonight, it’s not clear to you?”
“What I saw in the dream doesn’t make sense to me. No, I cannot see it clearly. Yet.”
Mykal almost let out a long, loud sigh, but bit it back. It wasn’t her fault. Whether he believed her or not, she was here, trying. “Tell me the dream. Perhaps it will mean something to me.” This was the best he could come up with. Part of him wanted to invite her back to the house. Blodwyn could talk to her. He might get a better reading on whether she was truthful or not. If she was trying to con him, Blodwyn would know. There wouldn’t be much they could do about it, though. What would they do in any event? The only thing he knew for certain was that she had been beside the king at the execution, and that she had knights to escort her. Everything else was to be taken at her word. Or not.
“It is going to sound bizarre.”
Mykal raised his hands. “Nothing about the last few days has been normal. My mind is open to bizarre, trust me.”
She pursed her lips, as if contemplating his words. “I dreamt of a naked woman with bright. . .green hair. This powerful woman is going to come for you for help. What? You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“I don’t know you well enough to say one way or the other,” Mykal said. Karyn knowing about Galatia either confirmed his suspicions that a major swindle was unfolding, or verified her ability. He didn’t like it. “Please, continue.”
“This woman needs your help. And you are going to agree to help her,” she said.
“Why does she need my help? And why would I agree to help a stranger with green hair?”
“I don’t know why she needs your help. I do know that you will help her because it is the right thing to do. More than just your life depends on helping this woman. Only a selfish person would refuse her. You are not a selfish man.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I do,” she replied with confidence. “I also know that you are going to leave your home and set out with this woman, and another man, and...”
“That’s where you are wrong. I am not going anywhere. I have this land and these animals to care for, and my grandfather to look after.”
“I am more than capable of looking after myself, thank you. Besides, if you go anywhere, I will be going with you.” Grandfather crossed his arms over his chest, and frowned.
“So you, me, some man, and a green haired woman.” He counted the people off on his fingers. “Where are we supposedly going?”
“Toward trouble.”
“Toward trouble? That’s kind of vague, don’t you think?”
“There will be forces against us at nearly every turn. The journey will be long and dangerous. Countless people will lose their lives. The deaths will be bloody and brutal. Those who accompany you, because there will eventually be many, will do so to protect you from harm. But steel and fire will only be able to accomplish so much. There are those who would oppose us while others will aid.” She spoke with her eyes closed, as if recounting words on a document. Or memories from one of her dreams. Karyn’s hands moved while she talked, animatedly punctuating each sentence with fingers.
“And I die on this journey?”
“If I am not beside you, you will. Last night I had the dream, for the hundredth time. Sometimes you die in the dream, and I am heartbroken when I awake. It is as you have said; I don’t know you well enough to mourn your death, especially one in a dream, no matter how true I know they be. Regardless, those mornings, I cry.” Even now her eyes brimmed with tears; one such fell down her cheek, streaking through grime from travel that thinly coated her exposed skin. “Other times when I dream of the journey, you live. When I awake those mornings, I am grateful.”
“Grateful? What’s different between the two dreams?”
“Whether I am with you, or not,” she said. “The journey you will undertake is of paramount importance. Not only to you, and not only Grey Ashland, but to all of the old empire.”
This time Mykal shook his head. “Now I do question you. I clean out horse stalls, and slaughter pigs. I milk cows and pick eggs from under chickens. The most notable thing I’ve done with my life is take care of my grandfather. There is no journey in my future. I’m just one person, just me. My fate will not impact Grey Ashland, and will certainly have no bearing on the old empire.”
“Regardless your feelings, it does,” she said.
He did not care for her matter-of-fact tone. It suggested destiny, as if he had no say in his own future. That may have been the way things played out back when wizards…
Wizards. Galatia had claimed… He covered his face with his hands.
“What is it?” Karyn said.
“I will take you back to your knights. You need to return to the keep. The sun will rise soon. I don’t want the king to come looking for you. My grandfather and I can’t afford the trouble. We have little enough as it is,” he said.
“I did not bring knights with me this time.”
“I will take you back to the keep myself, then,” he said. He had little desire to return to the castle. He felt well, but needed to be home when the others rose. His grandfather would worry if he wasn’t here when morning dawned fully. A little worry was better than knights on horseback showing up, he supposed.
“I’m not returning to the castle,” she said.
“You aren’t?” She couldn’t go back to Evidanus. Mykal knew her family’s realm was in ruins. There was nothing to return home to, and no one there to welcome her. She certainly couldn’t stay here. The very notion was absurd. “Karyn—”
“I refuse to remain a ward of the king. I’m beyond the age expected to either marry one of the king’s son’s, or to have been returned to my own father. I have no desire to marry Prince Calah. King Nabal may like to think he still has a claim on my life, however he is mistaken. I would rather spend my life on the run being hunted by his knights than live imprisoned within his keep!”
“Does he treat you so poorly?”
“He expects me to stay. That is enough. I refuse to go back there. I need to get beyond his reach. I need to be with you. I’ve been drawn here to protect you. It is the most powerful sensation I have ever felt. The past few days have made my bones shake to be away from you. You think you don’t understand?!” she implored shaking her head, “I don’t understand. I have a purpose here. With you. Regardless, it is too late. I’ve left a note with my family’s seal informing the king it was time that I venture out on my own.”
Severed Empire: Wizard's Rise Page 7