by Mike Shelton
The two men walked closer, and Breelyn stood her ground. “I am a protector from Elvyn.” She pushed her long hair back behind her ears to prove the point.
The two men hesitated. They, as Erryl, had never met an elf before.
“Then you will come with us also. I’m sure Governor Ellian and, eventually, Kanzar will want to speak to you.” The shorter man moved in closer and pulled his sword out of its scabbard.
“Don’t hurt her,” Erryl said. “She is helping me.”
The taller man seemed confused. “Helping you with what?”
“The Orb told me to find someone…to bring him back to Celestar.” Erryl hoped he looked serious, but he knew it would be difficult for them to take him seriously in his wet and dirty clothes.
“Enough games, Erryl. You have a vivid imagination. Both of you are coming back with us.” The taller man came directly in front of Erryl and Breelyn. He reached to grab Breelyn’s arm but soon discovered her standing behind him, holding his hands behind his back.
“How did you…?” the taller man yelled.
The shorter man lifted his sword and sliced it down toward Breelyn. She brought one hand up in the air and directed the sword to fly out of the man’s hand. He glared at her and went to retrieve the weapon. Using her magic, she pulled a root up out of the ground and tripped the man.
The man she was holding used this opportunity to break out of her hands. He brought up his hand now and pushed a spell toward her. Sparks flew from his fingers, and Breelyn barely dodged them. However, when she did, she entangled herself with Erryl’s leg and fell to the ground.
The man took advantage of this opening and kicked her leg hard as he picked up a rock with his magic and flung it at her.
“Noooo!” Erryl yelled and jumped in the way, taking the brunt of the force. The stone hit him squarely in the shoulder and took him down hard to the ground.
Breelyn jumped up and rushed to Erryl’s side. She leaned over Erryl. He couldn’t move his arm, and tears filled his eyes.
“Stand up slowly, elf.” The taller wizard protector of Celestar had retrieved the sword the other man had dropped and now held it at Breelyn’s back. “Governor Ellian wanted the boy, but he didn’t say anything about an elf. If you are killed or disappear, he will be none the wiser.”
“No, but we will know,” a new voice said from behind them all. Standing on a lower shelf of the outcrop of rock was a thick man with a bushy beard. Standing next to him, a thin, ebony-skinned youth with glasses glared at the two men.
“That’s him!” Erryl said, forcing his voice to remain steady. “That’s the man from the vision.”
The two newcomers walked closer. They looked tired and dirty, but determined.
“What vision?” the young man asked, clearly in charge of the two. His eyes held a determined gaze, wrapped in sorrow.
“The Orb sent young Erryl to find you,” Breelyn answered. “These men here decided to try and take us back before we could.”
The young man arched his eyebrows at the two men. “I am Wizard Bakari, and this is Harley Habersham. You will let these people go, and we will all go and see the Orb together.”
The taller wizard continued holding the sword.
Then Harley, the old man with Bakari, took a step forward, a long walking stick in his hands. “Put the sword down. That is no way to be treating a beautiful young lady.” Harley bowed his head at Breelyn.
The man hesitated, and Breelyn flipped her hand to the side. The sword flew from his hand into the air, sticking deep into a nearby patch of mud.
Erryl rose up and held his arm, still grimacing. He walked closer to Bakari and stared closely at him. He had never seen someone with skin darker than his own, though this man was certainly the man from his vision.
Breelyn smiled. “Erryl is from Celestar and is a guardian of the Orb.”
With this mention of the Orb, Bakari stepped closer. “We are searching for the Orb. I think it’s the key to the barrier’s failing, but you say you saw a vision of me?”
Erryl remembered himself. “The Orb asked me to find you and bring you to it.”
“It has also called to me,” Bakari stated. He turned to Breelyn. “And you, you are an elf woman. I recognize your kind from my studies. By your coloring, I would say you are from Lor’l or thereabouts.”
“This one knows a lot, Miss. I would listen to him if I were you.” Harley stepped up to Breelyn but spoke to Bakari. “This is as far as I go.”
Bakari turned to Harley. “Harley, how can we, I mean I, repay you?” Tears had gathered in the corners of his eyes.
Harley stroked his beard then put a hand on Bakari’s shoulder. “No need for any repayment. Kharlia healed my boy. That was enough.”
At the mention of this third person, Breelyn asked, “Is there someone else with you?”
Bakari glanced at Harley before turning back to Breelyn. “Kharlia,” he said with a thick voice. “A vicious beast attacked us by the river, and she went over the edge.”
Erryl felt Bakari’s sadness, and it almost overwhelmed his own senses. The pain of losing his own mother was still fresh in his mind.
“I’m so sorry.” Breelyn gave her condolences with tears in her own eyes. “Duty is sometimes hard to bear.”
Bakari only nodded and turned back to shake Harley’s hand. “Good luck, Harley. We will never forget your kindness. Alaris will need good men in the days to come, I fear. You may be needed again someday.”
“All you need to do is ask, my boy.” Harley wiped a hand across his eyes. “I have seen some amazing things on this trip. You are strong. I am sure to hear of great things from you in the future.”
Then Harley turned around and headed back the way he and Bakari had come.
Breelyn called Erryl over and placed a hand on his hurt arm. A white glow surrounded the injured place for a moment, and then, when she removed her hand, he was healed.
“Thank you.” Erryl grinned at her. He flexed his arm. It worked as good as new.
Bakari raised his brows. “You are a wizard, too?”
“I am Breelyn Mier, one of King Soliel’s protectors. We call ourselves mages, but it’s essentially the same. My power comes from the earth, and that is how I can heal,” Breelyn said matter-of-factly as she waved for the four men to follower her.
The two protectors from Celestar gave wary looks at Breelyn, but she grinned sweetly at them and then turned instead to Bakari.
“So, what do you know about the Orb, Wizard Bakari?”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Anyone looking around the Citadel could tell they were preparing for a battle. Weapons were being forged, uniforms cleaned, and horseshoes repaired. Groups of mercenaries filled the fields between Whalen and the Citadel. The tension that only comes on the eve of war filled the air.
Roland did not believe in this war, but he needed to be careful. His newly found status, as a ranking wizard, was being tested on all sides. Helping the Chief Judge was already pushing things, but Daymian Khouri was a good man and didn’t deserve what Kanzar had planned for him. So Roland had instructed his men to take the Chief Judge to Orr rather than Cassian. It would keep Daymian farther away from Kanzar and, hopefully, give all of them time to stop Kanzar’s aggression.
Roland stood on a small balcony on the second floor of the practice facility, overlooking the practice yard. The cool air signaled autumn, and the trees around the outside of the practice yard were showcasing their yellows and reds.
Apprentices and wizards alike where honing their skills in the small arena. When they noticed him watching, many pushed themselves forward, trying to gain favor in his eyes. Rumors had flown around the Citadel about his standing and status. The story became more wonderful with each telling. Roland himself did nothing to dispel these rumors.
Roland felt a hand on his shoulder. He knew it was Onius. He’d felt the man coming nearer for the last thirty seconds.
“Making quite a stir these days, aren’t yo
u?” Onius chuckled softly. “I must admit, when I allowed you to be tested, I didn’t foresee such chaos.”
“Have you foreseen who is going to get killed in this war, Onius?” Roland said without turning around. “What Kanzar is doing is wrong, yet you still stand at his right side, his apparent second-in-command.”
Onius took a step around Roland and stood at the railing next to him. “The Citadel’s politics are not simple, Roland. You don’t understand the decades Kanzar’s plans have been in motion. They can’t be brought down in a day.”
Roland grunted and turned his attention back toward the practice yard. “But now,” he gestured with his hand, “how do you justify this? How can you say war is good for Alaris?”
A loud noise erupted from the ground below, and Roland noticed a few apprentices holding some older wizards at bay with spells of fire.
“You shouldn’t encourage them so.” Onius frowned over at Roland.
“Why? I think I prove that apprentices these days can be as powerful as full wizards.”
Onius held his mouth tight. “But not as disciplined.”
Roland laughed out loud and turned away from the practice yard to face his former mentor. “Onius, when did wizards have to become old to be respected? It seems to me it is the disciplined wizards who are now betraying their country. When did your group become so stodgy and boring? I’m sure you must have been my age once.”
Onius did smile at that and reached his hand over to pat Roland on the shoulder. “You might be on to something.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “Maybe we have lost something through the years. Who knows, Roland? Maybe you will be in charge of all of this someday,” he said as he spread his hands wide to encompass the Citadel’s great structure.
“I’m counting on it,” Roland said with a laugh.
“And when you are, I hope you meet an arrogant, whining, know-it-all apprentice,” Onius said with an even wider smile. “It will serve you right.”
They both laughed together. Then Onius seemed to grow serious once again. “The Council decided you will stay here when we march south. Most of these apprentices will also stay behind, with a few of the older council members.”
“To watch over me?” Roland raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, to watch over you, Roland. Kanzar not only doesn’t trust you, but I think he may actually fear you. He wants you left here, with the apprentices, to take care of the Citadel.”
Roland protested, but Onius ignored him and then moved forward again. “I will concede the power you possess, but you and the apprentices do need more training and discipline to be prepared to fight in a battle. The battle wizards need to know that their men can be counted on to obey direct orders without asking questions.”
Roland thought for a brief moment. “That would be hard for me sometimes.”
“Don’t I know?” Onius smiled fondly at his old student. “There will be plenty to do here to keep up the Citadel.”
“So, the newest wizard is being relegated to a caretaker and babysitter?” Roland slapped his hand on the wooden railing. “And Kanzar doesn’t even have the gall to tell me this directly?”
“The High Wizard is concerned with more things than your welfare,” Onius said.
“So he sends his messenger to come to me? What is your role in all of this, Onius?” His former mentor was infuriating sometimes. He played politics at its highest—deceit, secrets, and double crosses. What was Onius really after?
The fighting below stopped, and a few apprentices turned toward Roland. He took a moment to wave and to congratulate the men.
“Kanzar does not intend to hold a fair vote, I am sure you are aware,” Roland said at last.
“Leave Kanzar to me,” Onius said darkly. “I will do what must be done.”
Roland stood up straight, in front of Onius. “And I will also do what needs to be done, Onius. I hope we find ourselves on the same side of this conflict.”
Onius slapped his hand on the railing. “And what side is that, young wizard?”
Roland brushed his bangs out of his eyes and winked at Onius. “My side, of course.” Roland turned with a flourish, his red robes swirling around his fit frame.
Onius grunted and turned to descend to the lower level.
A plan began to form in Roland’s mind. Being left virtually unchecked in the Citadel might be a good thing for him. He would train the apprentices to be loyal to the Citadel and what it stood for, not to Kanzar and his machinations.
Roland walked back inside the west wing of the Citadel. He felt powerful but somewhat lonely. He didn’t have Bak around to tease or Alli around to flirt with. He wanted to find someone else his own age to spend some time with. With those thoughts, he decided to find a recently met member of the Citadel cleaning staff. He still remembered her wide brown eyes and pouty lips.
“What was her name again?” he said to himself.
* * *
Chief Judge Daymian Khouri led his small group around the back side of the Cassian walls. He hoped most of his enemies’ eyes would be on the front gates, where he and his guards were surely expected by now. Instead, they left their horses at a small stable behind a nearby inn, with a man loyal to the Chief Judge. Then Daymian stayed hidden, as much as possible, on the way into the city; his face was well known in Cassian.
Huddling behind a grove of trees, Daymian whispered to the group, “There is a secret door through the back wall that leads into an old barn in the back of the castle estates. And the cover of darkness will soon be upon us.”
Being careful that others were not about, they moved toward the wall. Daymian moved his hand down a portion of it until he found a small crack. Fitting a knife inside the crack, he popped a secret lever, and a portion of the wall swung outward, revealing the inside of the old wooden barn.
Motioning his guards as well as Gilan, Wren, and Tam inside, he closed the wall behind them. They moved to the front of the broken-down barn, peering through broken slats to survey the grounds in front of them. The new stable and barn stood to their right, the vegetable gardens to their left. Early fall herbs, lettuces, cabbages, and turnip greens sprouted up in neat rows.
In the distance stood the castle itself. Four stories high, with balconies and parapets on the top floor. Daymian imagined that his wife and two children were being held as high up as possible. It would be easier for the usurpers to guard them that way.
He ground his teeth in frustration. All seemed quiet inside the castle grounds. Too quiet for his tastes. He surveyed the group of men with him and knew he needed to tread carefully for his plan to work.
“I will sneak inside and find out where your family is being held,” Wren offered with a smile. “I will send for you when it is safe.”
Daymian nodded his head. “Just hurry. The longer we wait, the more chances of us getting caught.” Without Wren noticing, Daymian pulled Tam aside and whispered into his ear. The brown-haired apprentice stood a few inches shorter than himself.
“I’ll go with you,” Tam informed Wren as he prepared to leave the barn.
“That’s not necessary.” Wren began to look nervous.
“Who will you send back to get us?” Daymian asked, pretending innocence in the change of plans.
A loud creak ensued in the back of the barn, and many of the men jumped. They all looked around nervously.
“Just the settling of an old barn,” Daymian assured them.
Wren agreed to take Tam with him, and they left, crawling under a broken-down door. Daymian watched them skirt the garden and then move into the orchards, where more trees would hide them on their approach. He figured he had a half hour and no more.
Turning to his six guards, he nodded to them, and they marched to the back of the barn. Gilan followed them with interest. Three guards moved old bales of hay and then pulled up a secret door in the ground.
Gilan moved over and peered down inside, then back at the Chief Judge with a question in his eyes.
Daymian turned toward the rest of the guards and Gilan. “Now we wait.”
Gilan looked confused. “Wait for what, Sir?”
“Waiting for Wren to send for me.” The Chief Judge moved back over to the front of the barn and peered out of the old slats once again. The night had grown darker. Daymian gazed at the silhouettes of the apple orchard, with the rising parapets of the castle behind them. Torches and lamps were being lit in the castle, giving an eerie glow to the early evening air.
It had been a fast ride from the Citadel, and Daymian’s body was tired and sore, though he knew that this night would be much longer still and it would be some time before the needed rest would come. Stroking his short beard with his right hand, he thought about how much he loved his kingdom. Was he doing the right thing by standing up to Kanzar? Daymian knew that, before it was over, good men would lose their lives.
King-men! Oh, he should have done something more about them earlier. They had slowly but surely destabilized Alaris. Daymian had tried to be patient and lenient, had tried to let men speak their minds—but, if he had known from the first that Kanzar was behind it, Daymian would have moved to stop Kanzar earlier.
Daymian ground his teeth in frustration, thinking next about his counselor, Onius. That man had seemed to be playing both sides in some secret agenda only known to himself. The man had stood as his counselor for years and had given service to the Chief Judges before Daymian. What had Onius been about to tell Daymian before being summoned to Kanzar’s office the other day? Did Onius actually have a plan for getting out of all of this while averting war? If he did, Daymian would listen.
“Sir!” One of the guards motioned through the old barn walls. “The apprentice, Tam, comes.”
Approaching the barn, Tam came forward and greeted the Chief Judge. His face was hard to read, but Daymian could guess what had happened.