Magician In Battle (Power of Poses Book 4)

by Guy Antibes

  “Waiting?”

  Trak laughed. “No one ever told you, did they? I grew up as a stableboy at my stepfather’s inn. I managed to pick up a few things, even though until I left, I hadn’t yet learned to read or write much.”

  “You were illiterate?” Lia looked at him with surprise.

  “We are all born illiterate. It’s just that some people can get their literacy a bit later than others.”

  ~

  Toryan cuisine at the inn matched its brew-making, giving Trak a challenge to enjoy his midday meal. Lia just tucked it all in.

  “I remember this food when I was little and we traveled up and down our lands. Its taste reminds me of better days,” Lia said. “Don’t you like it?”

  “My better days were spent eating better food,” Trak said. He smiled at her. “Perhaps we get used to what we eat, so I’ll amend my comment.”

  She gave Trak a dazzling smile. “Apology accepted,” she said after daintily wiping her lips with a worn napkin.

  The inn began to fill with people, while the streets outside filled with snow. From Trak’s vantage point, they wouldn’t have lasted long outside in the open with the clothes and lack of cold weather equipment they had taken from Kizru.

  “What do we do now?” Lia asked. She looked a bit disoriented, stuck for at least the rest of the day inside the inn.

  “Why don’t you go up to our room and rest. Take a bath or something. I’ll be up in a few hours after listening to the customers. You might be a distraction,” he said, noticing the roving eyes of the men in the room.

  “Come with me,” she said, holding out her hand.

  They both rose from the table. Trak escorted Lia to their bedroom. He checked the lock on the door and looked out from the tiny glass window. It looked like half a foot of snow covered the rooftops in the village. They might need a covered flyer to continue. Perhaps he could find an old carriage for sale in the town and use that.

  He looked over at Lia, who had lain down on the bed. He heard gentle snoring. Trak grabbed one of the thin blankets that they carried and covered her before he left the room, locking the door behind him.

  The inn’s tavern room had become noisier since they had left. Trak descended the stairs and noticed the wet floors. Men and a few women had filled up the place, and the snow on their clothes had dripped, making the place smell more of damp wool than anything. It reminded him of similar wet days in Greenbrook, but it rarely snowed there.

  He found a tiny table against the wall and sat down, ordering another mug of the insipid Toryan ale. He tried not to make a face when he took a sip, and just leaned back with his chair. He increased his ability to hear with a spell. The increasing warmth of his surroundings and the alcohol put Trak to sleep.

  He woke with a start. The tavern had emptied out a bit and the day had gone a little grayer. The inn didn’t have a clock, but Trak could tell it was at least mid-afternoon. He hadn’t heard anything useful, so he crept back up the stairs, still groggy from sleep and found the door unlocked. Trak looked at the latch for a moment, not wanting to enter, but he had to. When he peered in, he didn’t see Lia. He went through the door, and just as he realized that there were others in the room, something slammed into his head.

  ~

  Trak squinted his eyes at the pain, and then his mind registered the intense discomfort of tightly knotted bonds. Something covered him, maybe a tarp of some kind. He thought he might be on a Toryan floater and concentrated on loosening his bonds. He stopped when he felt movement beside him. He twisted a little to find Lia bound as he was. The princess had obviously been put under a sleep spell.

  “Worry,” Trak said quietly. He smiled since he didn’t need to utter the word any longer. He waited patiently until the princess began to stir.

  “Where am I?” she said.

  “Quiet, we are being transported somewhere. Don’t fuss with your bonds. We are on a floater which I will soon turn into a flyer.”

  Trak uttered the lift spell, and then he could feel the floater rise, but a weight kept it down. Trak shed his bonds with a thought and then severed the rope that held them to a horse.

  “Watch where you move. We are up pretty high,” Trak said. He sat up and pulled off the tarp that had covered them. They were in the midst of low clouds. At least their captors had piled their belongings on the floater, including Trak’s weapons and their blankets.

  Trak covered Lia with a blanket and buckled his sword. He batted snowflakes away from his face. Their captors couldn’t see them hidden in the low clouds, but both of them would soon freeze. He stumbled when the floater dipped, making Trak respond with a shield.

  Lia searched through Trak’s belongings. “They took your treasure!”

  Trak bit his lip. He had hoped to scurry out of the area, but he wouldn’t leave that bag behind. He knew he would have to retrieve the jewels. He wrapped the tarp around them and sat on the floater.

  “How many of them grabbed you? Could you tell?”

  Lia looked angry. “The innkeeper, for one, maybe four or five others. I had just woken up when they unlocked the door.”

  Trak shook his head. “My mistake. My hubris showing off again, and this time I paid dearly for it.”

  Lia narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps, but you were definitely a foreigner. They are fair game in Western Torya—”

  “In Eastern Torya, as well. I know, since I’ve been captured before. I’m going to find out where they were taking us. I can make a crude shelter for you in the middle of the forest.”

  “I’m not without my own powers,” Lia said. “I rarely use them, but this is an exception.”

  “Very well. I’ll try to make us invisible.” He closed his eyes and concentrated.

  “I don’t like this,” Lia said.

  He took the floater down after spelling enough wind to blow the accumulating snow off of them. He hoped the invisibility spell worked because everything that he had spelled looked normal.

  Trak spotted a group of men on horses huddling in the middle of the road along with a heavily laden floater. He noticed the bald head of the innkeeper among them. He moved the floater a bit closer to them and pulled out his knife. He used it as a focus to put each man to sleep.

  “We have a use for the ropes they bound us with, do we not?” Lia said, a cruel smile on her face.

  Trak nodded. “We do.” Trak tied them up using smaller lengths of the rope while Lia searched their belongings. A better dressed man had carried Trak’s pouch. Trak piled the men on the floater and used the remainder of the rope to tie all of their feet together. “Do they deserve a punishment for putting Princess Pullia to sleep and abducting them?” he said.

  Lia pointed up. “Thirty stories. They won’t be able to get down.”

  Trak couldn’t be so cruel. “I was thinking more like five. If they all fall off, some of them will have a chance of surviving, or they might just stay up there until a traveler comes along who knows the spell to make the flyer descend.”

  She squinted her eyes. “You are much too soft for a hero.”

  Trak grunted. “Not for my kind of hero,” he said. “Let’s take provisions from their floater and a cloak each. We’ll have to try a different approach at the next town.”

  “We didn’t do so well in Coriasku, did we?”

  Trak shook his head. “No we didn’t.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Eleven

  ~

  Honor’s studio had seen better times. Cobwebs hung from the ceilings. Racks of costumes had never been cleared out, and it appeared that nothing had been touched since Honor had left in a rush. Asem saw to closing the drapes at the windows, while Kulara and Valanna took inventory.

  There were a few food items still edible, but most had spoiled. The pump didn’t work, but Kulara used the water spell to bring sufficient water up through the supply pipe. A rush of rusty water spilled into the sink, and then after a few moments it cleared up.

  It took a few hours, but between
the three of them they had made a few rooms habitable enough to sleep for what little was left of the night.

  After breakfast they all decided that only Kulara could safely walk the streets of Pestledown in daylight. She walked out the door to buy food, while Valanna and Asem continued to make the studio habitable.

  Valanna hadn’t had to clean up anything so dirty in her life. She would have never thought that time would make a place so filthy, but indeed it had. She used a big pot in the kitchen to magically heat up water enough to wash the bedclothes, towels and anything else they wished to use. Asem had been assigned to drag upholstered furniture into the overgrown back garden and pound the dust out. Unfortunately he couldn’t use any magic in plain sight, so it looked to Valanna that he was practicing weapon’s forms as he beat up on the furniture.

  After a few hours, Kulara came back with Coffun Cricket carrying bags along with her.

  He entered the studio and waved his hand in front of his face. “Dusty, dusty,” he said. “One of my trusted men caught sight of a Warish woman in the market place, so they told me and here I am, coming to Kulara’s rescue.” He held up the bags.

  “Could you check to see who owns this studio?” Valanna said. “It might still be owned by Honor, if the king hasn’t confiscated the property.”

  “I already know that it remains in the name of Neel Cardswallow, who bought it for his sister some time ago. I don’t know if Neel has ever set foot in the place,” Coffun said, taking his bags and setting them on the kitchen table. “It might be a good idea for you to stay here rather than anywhere else, for a while at least.”

  “Oh, Coffun. I am glad to see you,” Asem said, entering from the back door. “We have arrived after suspicious circumstances.” The Warish prince was covered in dust from head to toe. His black hair had become gray along with his beard, his clothes, and dusty splotches on his skin.

  “I know. Kulara told me all about it. I’m obviously deeply sorry about that. Trust is not a given in Pestledown right now, I’m afraid,” Coffun said. He looked around the main room of the shop and smiled. “It looks like you have already been hard at work.”

  “Anything for the ladies,” Asem said, bowing to Kulara first, and then to Valanna. “Did I hear that Neel owns the studio?”

  Coffun nodded. “I believe he does. So feel free to stay here if you don’t want to chance The Looking Inn. Actually, right now, I think you are safer here.”

  “We will,” he said. “There is room enough for our flyer in the back garden. We will move it from outside the city tonight.”

  “Good idea. Now, I’d better be on my way,” Coffun said. He nodded to them as a group and left the premises.

  “Just who does he work for?” Kulara said.

  Asem looked at the closed front door where Coffun had just exited. “Anyone who will help rid the country of Harl Crustwillow. I’ve used him in the past for innocuous tasks.”

  “Such as delivering a certain letter when I was here before?”

  Asem nodded. “A good example of an innocuous, but important, task.”

  Valanna thought of Trak and felt the pain of being cut off from him. “Very important. It meant a lot to me.”

  Kulara patted Valanna’s shoulder, her eyes a little watery. “I hope it still does.”

  Valanna could only nod and feel miserable, but she felt much better than she would rotting in the Royal Tower. She wiped an eye.

  “Let’s focus on what we intend to do,” Asem said. He patted his clothes and a billow of dust went into the room.

  “I can blow the dust out. We just have to open the kitchen window and back door,” Valanna said.

  Soon the studio had been aired out, thanks to Valanna’s expert application of wind.

  ~

  Asem had rearranged the shop part of the studio and made it into a conference room, putting two tables together that held costume paraphernalia. Esmera, Snively, Coffun Cricket and three other men sat around the table looking at the Warishians.

  “I’m not happy that you dragged me here, Esmera,” one of the men said. “Warishians are not allies of Pestle.” He folded his arms and clamped his lips together.

  “The country is being torn apart. Warish has, at least, withdrawn its influence, and the Vashtans have taken over. At least the Warishians never supported endless increases in taxes, nor the rise of outlaws paid by the King and Puddingfan to wreak havoc on common citizens. Pestle is going to revolt one way or another,” another man said, glaring at the first, who reluctantly nodded.

  “Valanna Almond has a valid claim to the throne,” Asem said.

  “What?” the unhappy man said. “That changes everything, if it is true.”

  Asem laid a few documents on the table. “Valanna’s claim is no surprise to King Harl. He arranged the deaths of her parents. She escaped Harl’s poisoning attempt and fled with her dying father to Warish. These papers were taken from Pestle before Harl had the opportunity to purge them.”

  The three men and Esmera looked over the proof of Valanna’s heritage. She had examined them for the first time just before the meeting.

  “These look genuine to me,” Esmera said.

  “I have others,” Snively said, leaning back in his chair and folding his long arms. “Her claim is valid. There are still Pestlans who remember Youngblood’s assistant, Valanna’s father. The story is a sordid mess.” He looked at Valanna. “I’m sorry to put you through this, but the fate of Pestle may hang on these documents.”

  Valanna could only nod and blush as the men looked at her in a new light.

  “It looks like I am a Pestlan princess,” she said in a small voice.

  “And,” Coffun said, “you are next in line to the throne. You could go directly from Valanna Almond to Queen Valanna.”

  And under the thumb of King Marom of Warish, she thought. Valanna hated the man as much as ever and dreaded the next time she would have to see him.

  “You could change Pestle for the better, even ruling Pestle as a client state to Warish,” Snively said. “Marom has always maintained he would rule our country with a light hand.”

  Asem narrowed his eyes. Valanna noticed the expression and it looked like Asem didn’t quite agree. She hadn’t expected such a thing of Asem and would have to talk to him after the conference ended.

  “So what do we do?” Asem said.

  “There will be an assault on the palace in due time, sooner than later,” one of the men said. “The Vashtans will die and we will overthrow the king. Other than hired thugs and greedy citizens wanting rewards from King Harl, most of the populace will support a change at the top. You can help us fight, since Valanna is the only magician on our side.”

  “I—” Asem began, but Kulara cut him off.

  “We will participate where it makes sense. We are representatives of Warish after all, but that doesn’t mean we won’t participate,” Kulara said.

  Valanna looked at Asem, who looked a tiny bit sheepish. Whatever comment Kulara stopped, it looked like Asem agreed with her action.

  “Then we are agreed,” Coffun said.

  “Agreed,” each of the three men said. Esmera escorted them from the studio, leaving Coffun, Snively and the three Warishians.

  “You know our position,” Snively said, giving Valanna one of his cadaverous smiles and a nod. “I’m not happy that Esmera brought her rebels into your very home. I think you should move to other lodgings, but I can’t think of any appropriate ones off-hand. I only know two of the three men Esmera brought. I trust them, but the one who was angry at the beginning…” Snively shook his head. “I don’t know him at all. Those I don’t know, I don’t trust.”

  “We will consider that,” Asem said. “What of the Yellow Fox Vashtans?”

  “There are fourteen in Pestle that I know of. Nine in Pestledown, at present, who keep pressing their views on King Harl,” Snively said. “Can the three of you fight fourteen Vashtan magicians?”

  Trak could, Valanna thought. “We can only
do our best. They are not invincible. We defeated them in Warish, and Trak eliminated them in Bennin.”

  “I understand you had the help of other Vashtans?” Coffun said.

  Valanna nodded. “There is a rival clan, the Blue Swans, who helped both Trak and me. The group that is fomenting unrest all over our world is the Yellow Fox clan.”

  “Are there any in Pestledown?” Coffun leaned forward. “This is the first I’ve heard of Vashtan allies.”

  “Rumors,” Snively said. “They have kept a very low profile in Pestledown, so if any are here, there are only a few.”

  Kulara spoke up. “They have very limited resources. There might be only a few in Pestledown.”

  “Only a few friendly Vashtans will double our magical capabilities,” Snively said. “How can we find them?”

  “You’re asking us?” Asem said. “You’ve worked for Vashtans.”

  “Didn’t you say you’ve gotten Vashtans drunk before?” Valanna said. She was surprised to see some color on his pallid face.

  “In the palace only,” Snively said.

  Coffun Cricket laughed heartily. “Very good, Valanna,” he said. “I’ve never heard of any in Pestledown not living in the palace, so if they are here, they don’t want to be found.”

  “I wonder if they have an amulet?” Kulara said.

  “Amulet?” Coffun said.

  “It won’t hurt to try. If we trace the amulet to the palace, we can assume it is a Yellow Fox clan member,” Valanna said. She turned to Coffun. “The Vashtans have a spell that they can put on any object that will allow another magician to find the object. We ran into such things when we fought Vashtans in the Arid Lands, and Trak told me that the Vashtans in Bennin used them, too.”

  Valanna stood up. “We might as well get this over with now.” She posed and closed her eyes. “There is one in this room!” She opened her eyes and looked at Snively. “Is there a button or something around you? Look on the floor.” Valanna checked again and no amulet was on him. She got to her knees, and looked at the floor under the table, and spied a large Pestlan copper coin, called a ferret, just as Snively snatched it up.