Magician In Battle (Power of Poses Book 4)

by Guy Antibes

  Trak nodded. “We thought about it, General.” Yes, he had thought about it, and now he wished Lia had never sat on that throne in Zamiel. They would be finding a pleasant place to live to the east of Espozia, by now, having escaped the four armies poised to invade Zamiel.

  A messenger entered the room. “An urgent message, General Niamo,” his servant said, holding the door open.

  The distraction gave Trak an opportunity to sigh and collect himself.

  “Excuse me,” Adolphus said while he read the message. “My gods! An army has leveled Bitrium.” He looked up at the messenger. “Is there an army headed here?”

  “We don’t know sir. There seems to have been an event in Western Torya. Heads of State have died.”

  General Niamo stood. “If you will excuse me. I need to meet with the heads of the Army.”

  Trak put his hand on the General’s arm. “No, you don’t. I know all about it. I suggest you listen to me first.”

  “Misson, do you know anything about this?”

  After standing up, Misson bowed to Niamo. Trak was surprised his friend showed so much deference to the General. “Trak knows. Listen to him.”

  “How could you know anything? This message came to me by bird. There is no faster way.”

  “There is,” Trak said. “May I shut the door? You may want to keep this information secret, for now.”

  Niamo flitted his fingers. “Go ahead. I can’t say I’m interested in your story, but Misson,” he looked at Dalistro, “has a great deal of credibility. More than you, I might add.” He gave Trak a sideways look.

  Trak sensed the old hostility coming out, but he needed to tell another Santasian official about his version of the ill-fated parlay. He took the goblet of wine Adolphus offered and told him a less-detailed story than the one he told Misson and Honor.

  “So you and the Queen? She was your girl?”

  Trak nodded.

  Adolphus shook his head at all the revelations. “You were instrumental in installing Lord Jomio as the head of the Bureaucracy in Bennin?”

  “Not to mention he saved King Marom’s kingdom,” Misson said.

  “But then you murdered the head of state of Torya—”

  “Eastern Torya, after he had successfully plotted to kill Queen Pullia, the head of state of Western Torya.”

  Adolphus shook his head. “I’ve seen you in action and can believe that you are capable of it. Why do you admit to these acts?”

  “To me they were justified. I wanted to save the citizens of both Toryas the terror of war. The only way to do that was to kill their leaders, who together committed regicide.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  “I fought to save others. They attacked me, every one, even King Basiul, and I defended.” Trak wasn’t so sure about the Kandannans attacking him, but the others had.

  “And Bitrium?”

  “I didn’t tell you, but Riotro has always secretly been a Colcanan and leads the Colcanan army already invading Warish. Who do you think they will attack once they have expanded their conventional army by taking over Warish and Pestle?”

  “Santasia, of course. They are certain to try to take us over again.” Adolphus looked at Misson. “I presume you believe him?”

  “I do. Rasia confirms that there was a soldier-magician, very powerful, who had a magician brother, just as powerful. We think the soldier-magician is in Pestle, and Riotro is the other brother. The Colcanans told Trak as much just before they mistakenly thought they would kill him.”

  “This changes the lay of the land,” Adolphus said. “We should send troops to Warish immediately.”

  “I’ve already taken the liberty of notifying the Army and the Navy,” Misson said. “The Southern Army is still stationed in Nikia. They can be in Warish in less than two weeks, this time of year.”

  Adolphus placed his hand on Trak’s shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. “Bluntwithe, I want you to pledge not to attack Santasia. If you do that, I will help the Pestlans. I can’t say I like King Marom, but he’ll get helped, too. Take a message to King Harl, as an emissary of Santasia, notifying him of our mobilization.” Adolphus rubbed his hands. “Colcan will not rise again.”

  “I wouldn’t agree to permanently suppressing Colcan,” Trak said. “Let them live. Their economy will be in tatters after this.”

  Misson pulled Trak towards the door. “There are too many events to play out before we can think about what happens in Colcan. I think we can wait on that, can’t we Adolphus?”

  The General grumbled, but nodded his head.

  “Report back in two hours, the both of you.”

  ~

  “So what do you think of Adolphus now?” Misson said, after they had finished a meal in a new restaurant with a view of the rebuilt Santasian capital building.

  “I thought he would be throttling me.”

  Misson shook his head. “We’ve had long conversations about you. He wanted to reserve his opinion until he talked directly to you.”

  “Did I confirm his thoughts?”

  “His worst fears, but he’s convinced that you are better an ally of Santasia than a foe. Don’t expect a hero’s return after all of this is over, but I think you won’t have to worry about sneaking into Espozia to see your aunt again.”

  They met with Adolphus, who had papers signed giving Trak the ability to represent Santasia to the Pestlan court. Garono Dalistro, Misson’s father, was present and greeted him.

  “If you have done a tenth of what Adolphus told me, I am very, very impressed, but I also can see that you have suffered more than enough. Consider Santasia a possible home when all this is done.” He eyed Adolphus. “Just not Espozia.”

  Trak raised his hand. “I promise.”

  “You must go. Say goodbye to your aunt and reunite with your father, who is, I understand, in Pestle.”

  Trak nodded. “If King Harl hasn’t caught him.”

  “Knowing Neel, I wouldn’t think that much of a chance,” Misson said.

  ~

  Honor met them at the door. “I have sad, sad news.”

  “What is it?” Misson said.

  “Ben Nomia passed away while you were gone.”

  Trak sat down on the doorstep. “It’s my fault.”

  “How can that be? I distinctly remember that I used the ‘worry’ spell,” Honor said. She shook her head. “All of this time, and we never even thought he would have been subject to ensorcellment, even during the civil war. I can’t remember if he was ever around when we used the worry spell.” Honor put her hand over her chest. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. He couldn’t handle the last one. My heart breaks.”

  “At least I was able to tell him that his son lives.” Trak felt terrible and still responsible for Ben’s death. His visit to Santasia had been one of dreams except for Rasia and Ben’s compulsion spells.

  “Come in and clean up before you leave us,” Misson said, helping Trak to his feet. “Ben is another casualty of the Colcanans. I know you blame yourself, but you didn’t put the spell on him. He probably knew about Riotro and his brother and other secrets. When they removed him from the Board, they probably twisted his mind.”

  “It wasn’t twisted enough not to save my life. He was a valiant man, even if he was under compulsion,” Trak said. “I will miss him.”

  “We all will,” Honor said. “Now get your things together. You can keep Misson’s clothes. I’ve cleaned them and put them in a proper pack.”

  “How did you know?” Trak said.

  “Misson thought you’d be leaving us this afternoon.”

  “But what about Ben’s funeral?”

  Honor gave her nephew a hug, an unexpected act. “Ben would understand. Misson and I already do. Your place belongs in Pestle, and as soon as possible.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ~

  In the end, Trak took a small flyer, courtesy of General Niamo, into the air. Under other circumstances, he would ha
ve really wanted to stay in Espozia, but right now, he couldn’t get Ben’s death out of his mind anymore than he could forget about Lia, and that made his trip to Pestledown as much of an escape as anything else. He knew all about escaping, at this point.

  His life had been one of flight, one time after another. Escape from Greenbrook, the ship, Pestledown, Espozia, Bitrium. The list went on and on, but this time there would be no escape until Riotro’s army was destroyed, and he would need the help of King Harl, whom he detested, and King Marom. King Marom was one of the few men he had ever met, whom he truly hated. He shook the thought out of his mind as he raised the flyer to thirty stories.

  With what rest he had in Espozia, and despite the bulk of the small flyer, he teleported from horizon to horizon and found himself standing at the docks of the port of Nikia in little more than an hour. After delivering dispatches to the Santasian naval office, Trak paused to fill his stomach with the food that Honor had given him, and took a deep breath before he took the flyer up into the air. He took a bearing for Pestledown and continued on out over the sea. He couldn’t waste time on taking a ship.

  Before sunset, Trak spotted the southern end of Bosuns Bay. He adjusted his sighting, and within minutes, he floated high above Pestledown. He landed his flyer in Esmera’s stableyard.

  He had expected more customers having an early dinner in The Looking Inn, but only a few tables were taken.

  “Where is Esmera?” he asked a serving girl.

  “Southwest,” she said. “Along with the rest of the army and more than half of our staff.” The girl pinched her face with frustration.

  “A Pestlan army?” Trak had never known of an actual army. The Warishians had influenced Harl to disband one long ago.

  “Where have you been not to know a thing?” she said archly.

  Trak raised his eyebrows, anxious to get more knowledge. “Overseas. I just arrived from Santasia.”

  “Oh. You look Pestlan to me.”

  Trak smiled. “I am. Now, where is King Harl?”

  “Dead. There has been a revolt. Queen Valanna is leading our troops to help save the Warishians from a Colcan army. I never thought I’d be saying Colcan army, much less Pestlan army.”

  “Queen Valanna, eh?” Trak thanked her. He didn’t bother to strain the poor girl’s emotions by getting something to eat from Esmera’s dining room and sat in his flyer in the cold, finishing up Honor’s basket of food. He sorted through his things, leaving a pile in the stableyard flat, and then lifted the flyer up into the air and headed for Warish.

  Queen Valanna. What could have possibly happened? Harl dead? Had Neel’s dream of a successful revolution come true? He didn’t have any idea why Valanna would end up being a queen unless King Marom had taken over Pestledown, but he saw no evidence of any kind of violence in the city when he left just before evening darkened the city.

  ~

  From up in the air, Trak could barely discern where the army had gone before him in the moonlight. He followed their tracks along the bay, and then when it turned west. He caught up with the army in Greenbrook, of all places. The stableyard of The Blunted Sword was filled with animals. Trak had to put down over his former garden. Carriages, with their horses removed, lined the lanes. The army camped close by on farmland, with their fires sparkling in the dark.

  He ran to the inn. He checked to make sure his papers of representation were safe inside his cloak. He stopped at the door of his stepfather’s inn. He slipped his Benninese sword in and out of its sheath. He didn’t wear a blunted sword, but he smiled at the thought. He took a deep breath and entered.

  The common room was filled with uniforms and well-dressed people, a clientele much different from what he remembered so long ago. He closed his eyes and took another breath and smelled the same kind of smell he remembered. He pictured Neel, Able, Terry, and Astun playing cards at their favorite table.

  Trak looked up and saw Neel, Able, Terry, and Astun with mugs in hand looking at him with disbelieving eyes. It was as if time had shifted back six years. The only new addition was Mori, sitting with her arm linked with Neel’s, and Trak approved of that.

  “Trak!” Neel said, standing up, knocking his chair over. Able did the same, and all four men gathered around Trak hugging him.

  Trak couldn’t keep the tears from his face. The other men, hardly crybabies, did the same. He couldn’t believe he was here, and they were, too. Silence filled the room. Trak looked up and saw Valanna standing on the stairs. Her presence in The Blunted Sword seemed unreal. A circlet of gold crowned her golden hair. Trak couldn’t determine which shone brighter.

  He wanted to go to her and wrap his arms around her. Thoughts of Lia in his mind fought with the vision in front of him, but his exotic love had died, far away in Zamiel. He didn’t know what to think, but Valanna was here, and his feelings for her fought with the memory of his love for Lia. Perhaps she was even more unattainable, now that Valanna was Queen of Pestle and a Princess of Warish. He still wasn’t much more than an illiterate stableboy made good.

  But even so, Trak couldn’t take his eyes off of her, and she held his gaze, as well. He saw her eyes fill with tears as she slowly walked towards him. The room went silent as Trak knelt in front of her.

  “Trak Bluntwithe, we meet again in dire circumstances.”

  How could anything be dire when he was in touching distance of her?

  “We go to fight for Pestle against a Colcanan army filled with magicians.”

  “Riotro leads them, My Queen,” Trak managed to say.

  She lifted her hand motioning the people to rise. “You know?”

  Trak nodded. “I haven’t been idle these past few days.” His heart nearly burst as he remembered the events since he walked the halls of Zamiel Castle, in search of Tembul just before the parlay. “Colcan has already been dealt a blow.”

  The moment of silence had passed. The common room began to buzz.

  “Come to the private room and tell me,” Valanna said.

  “It is a long story, and I’d rather not tell it twice or more,” Trak said, even though he wanted to be alone with Valanna. “But I would like some of Able’s ale.” Trak smiled at Able, who gave Trak an apologetic look.

  A serving maid thrust a tankard into Trak’s hands. He took a draught and spit it out. The room erupted with laughter. “This isn’t Able’s.”

  Esmera popped her head out from the kitchen. “I’ve been running this inn for over a year, and I’ll serve what ale I’d like.”

  Trak nodded his head. “I know where I’ve tasted this swill before… The Looking Inn!” As he joked with Esmera, his mood lightened.

  The men in the room laughed. Valanna put her hand to her mouth and shook with giggling. Esmera put her fists on her hips and looked defiant, showing that she did indeed run The Blunted Sword.

  Trak stepped up on a table and made a face before he drained the tankard, much to the entertainment of the customers. He raised his hands and began his story. He left some parts out, but his story began when he left Torya for Bennin and an hour later, it ended with his landing outside the inn.

  He looked at the faces, and they all gave him sympathetic looks. His relationships with Valanna and Lia were part of his story, but the intensity of his emotions were not, except for the sudden death of Lia at the hands of Sirul.

  While he told his tale, he would sneak looks at Valanna, and she always had her eyes on him.

  “And so here I am,” he said, holding out his arms. The common room exploded with applause.

  Valanna, who had taken a seat during Trak’s story, rose and crooked her finger. “The private room, if you please.”

  Trak nodded. He felt more like a schoolboy than a conquering hero, but he followed her. They faced each other in the small room, Able’s only private room in his inn, other than the bedrooms on the second floor.

  “Close the door,” Valanna commanded.

  Trak did as he was told. Before he could turn around, Valanna had ste
pped into his arms. Trak had to push her away.

  “You are a married woman.” He backed away a step. Valanna looked hurt, but didn’t move towards him.

  “I am technically a married woman, but it has never been consummated. As Queen of Pestle, I have the ability to annul the marriage. Pestlan law is quite specific on that point.”

  “But you are still technically married?”

  Valanna nodded. “I am and will continue to be until after the Colcan army is driven from the continent of Pestle. I’ve been counseled to leave things as they are, so Marom will continue to cooperate with Pestle.”

  “Do you have to go back to Warish?”

  Valanna laughed. “I am the Queen of Pestle. I can do what I want. Esmera made sure I was coronated before we left Pestledown.” She quickly told him her own story right until the point when she fought the Colcanan warrior.

  “The soldier-magician was Riotro’s brother,” Trak said. “He might be stronger than Riotro, so I am very impressed.”

  “You saved me from him.”

  Trak had to laugh. “Me? I was far away.”

  “I used poseless magic. What little you told me in Balbaam was enough to save my life. I collected all of the energy in my body and shaped a lightning bolt. It blew him into the opposite wall.”

  Trak whistled. “That was dangerous.”

  Valanna showed him the scab on her throat. “His sword made this. It was poseless magic or certain death.”

  “You made the right decision.”

  She took his hand. Trak resisted pulling it away from her, since, in his mind, she had, for so long, been untouchable.

  “We held a trial, and after a bit of excitement, the Pestlans made me Queen.”

  “So, your father and my grandfather were colleagues?”

  Valanna nodded.

  “We could have met under less stressful circumstances if King Harl and his father hadn’t banished magic,” Trak said.

  Valanna nodded, making the curls of her hair bounce. He couldn’t resist any longer and hugged the Queen. She showed no signs of resistance and threw her arms around him.