by Aaron Pogue
My shoulders screamed in protest, but I leaned across to grab the saddlebags draped across the pack horses' backs, and I heaved them hurriedly into the hole I'd made. I got the last one in, then released the earth energy and buried a good tent and a week's worth of rations two paces beneath the ground. I stretched out with the last of my energy and pulled the extra mound of earth into a needle point another pace tall, a tiny obelisk in the shade of the scrub tree.
Then I collapsed forward against my horse's neck. Isabelle said nothing. I could feel her eyes upon me, but she only reached across for my reins and led me along with the pack horses back toward town.
3. Wizard, Warrior, and King
Between Isabelle's aching wrist and my exhaustion, we made slow going on the journey home. The sun was already set when we left our horses in the courtyard, and I had to rap loud and long to rouse the stable master to tend to them.
When he saw the state we were in, he yelled for a stable boy to carry word to the baron and fetch us some aid. "And I'll send word to my lord and his son," he added, bowing his head to Isabelle.
Isabelle stepped sharply forward at that. "His son? Themmichus is here?"
"He arrived not half an hour gone," the stable master said. "All at a rush. His poor horse was in quite a state."
In an instant, Isabelle forgot the stable master and the boy. She caught at my sleeve with her uninjured hand, tugging, but didn't even wait long enough to pull me after her. She darted from the stables, and I had to hurry to catch up.
Across the courtyard and through the great front doors. Down the broad corridor and into the baron's study. She crashed into me in the doorway, already rushing back out while I tried to follow her in.
But she just growled in irritation. "It's Themm. I should have known he wouldn't be here."
"Isabelle," I said, trying to catch her. "It's late and you're hurt. I am anxious to see your brother as well, but it can wait until morning."
She opened her mouth and I saw a dozen arguments flash behind her eyes. But she only said, "He'll be in the larders." Then she was off again.
So we hurried through dark corridors until we spotted the warm, flickering light in the distant kitchens. We heard voices too.
"We know the danger, and we have our plans in motion." The baron's booming voice came calm and clear.
And then another answered. "Plans? You call these plans? You'll bring a doom upon us all!"
Even knowing he was there, it took me some time to recognize Themmichus's voice. It had gained a deeper baritone since I had known the boy at the Academy of Wizardry, but the greater change was the anger. I had never heard him speak with such ferocity.
We entered the room before the baron could answer. Given the expressions both men wore, that was a fortunate turn. The baron's face was a thundercloud, and he towered over his son.
Although...he did not tower as much as I'd expected. Themmichus had grown much in the last year. He was still thin as a blade, in sharp contrast to his father, but he was only a hair shorter than me now. He wore a wizard's black robes as well, instead of the apprentice's garb I'd seen him in last. They lent him an air of authority, and he wore it well.
So caught up in their fury, neither of them had noticed our entrance. Isabelle hesitated for less than a heartbeat, then she darted between them. She cried, "Themm, you're home!" and threw herself into his arms. I saw her wince of pain, I saw Themm's astonishment at the greeting, and then I saw Isabelle's calculating expression, quite at odds with the enthusiasm in her cry.
It worked, though. It drew the attention of both men to Isabelle, even if neither was fooled by her show of emotion. Themmichus pushed his sister out to arm's length. "Hello, Isabelle," he said. His voice was cold. Without turning my way, he said, "Hello, Daven."
"Themmichus," I said. "Last time we spoke, we were friends."
He threw me a glance over his shoulder. He made it cold, hard, but I saw the compassion and fear he was fighting to conceal.
He grunted. "It has been a dark year since then. You do too much honor to my loyalty if you think—"
I snorted and moved closer. "And you do a lousy impression of the spoiled prats who shared that school with you."
He rounded on me, and I saw the same ferocity I'd heard in his voice before. I saw his fear, too. He made no effort to hide it now. It was the fuel to all his rage.
"This is no joke!" he shouted. "This is my home, Daven. This is my family. You cannot guess what that is worth, but you are a doom over us all."
I fell back a step. Isabelle grabbed his arm. "That isn't fair! Without him we would not be here at all. He has been our protector—"
"A fine one indeed," Themmichus snapped. "I see you come home from a quiet ride in the country with a splint upon your arm."
The baron gasped, likely seeing it for the first time. Before he could exclaim, Isabelle spat back, "He saved me from a dragon! A sore arm can barely compare—"
"And you would have faced this dragon if not for him?" Themmichus asked. Isabelle's face flushed, and I saw frustration burning in her eyes, but she could find no reply.
Themmichus nodded. He turned back to his father, dismissing Isabelle and me both. "You see?" he said. "From a Windsday ride. He is too great a threat. You must send him away."
"Themm—" I said.
He raised a hand without turning, but it was enough to cut me short. "I'm sorry, Daven. I am. I admire you, but we cannot take this risk."
I could hear the hitch in his voice, the sound of regret. He did nothing to hide it. But despite that regret, there was perfect certainty in his accusation.
I stepped up behind him before I answered. I placed a hand on his shoulder and he tensed at my touch, but he didn't pull away. "Themm, you're right," I said.
He turned slowly and met my eyes. I nodded. "You're right. I have to go. Your father knows it. Isabelle knows it. We only delay long enough to make some hasty preparations."
Themmichus shook his head furiously. "No, there is no time for preparations. You tarried here six weeks too long."
"That's enough, Themm," the baron said, his voice heavy as a hammer. "Danger though he might be, Daven has earned our protection."
"No," Themm said, turning back to him. "I'm sorry, Daven. But, Father, there's something you need to know."
"He knows," I said, and I saw surprise flash on Themm's face. I nodded. "I told him everything. Themm...I'm sorry I left the Academy. I'm sorry I had to leave you, especially like that. But I will bring no suffering on this house."
"You do not understand," he said.
I felt a flash of anger, but I fought it down. "I do understand," I said. "I have not had a family to love. Not before."
"Daven—"
"No. You were right about that. But I love this family almost as strongly as you do." I had not noticed Isabelle moving to my side, but she placed her fingers in my free hand.
I smiled. "I will leave before the king comes," I promised. "I will bring no doom on this house."
He turned back to me yet again. He wore a sad smile while he shook his head. "You have misunderstood me" He sighed. "You have already doomed them."
In the far distance, a heavy hand banged loudly on the outer doors. Themmichus nodded in resignation. "The king is already here."
Isabelle gasped. The baron grunted. The thunderous knocking came again, and servants began moving noisily throughout the house.
The baron stepped forward. "Someone will be coming to stoke the fires. We must leave. I should meet the king in my study anyway. Isabelle, take Daven through dark corridors and get him from this house. Themm—"
"I will come with you," he said. "The king knows I am here, and I may be of some assistance."
The baron held his son's gaze for a moment, then nodded and left the room at a trot. Themmichus started after him, but he stopped in the doorway and turned back to me.
He met my eyes. He swallowed. "I did not know you as a wizard," he said, choosing his words with care.
"But there are rumors. You should know the king has brought more wizards than just me to Teelevon. If you try a working in this town, you will light a beacon for them all."
I felt a bitter twist at my lips. These wizards knew nothing of my magic. But, then, I knew little more of theirs. I held Themm's gaze, and I nodded. "I understand."
"Take care," he said. "I would see you again someday."
I gave him a smile. "You will. Now go and buy me some time."
He left the room, and a heartbeat later Isabelle and I were stealing down dark halls as well.
I expected her to lead me toward the back of the house and the servants' exits there, but we'd barely gone a dozen paces before she pulled me off the servants' hall and up a narrow spiral stair to the house's second floor.
Six weeks here, and some parts of the house were still a maze to me. I didn't know where we were going until Isabelle pushed the door open and rushed me in. I found myself in a small but comfortable sitting room, and I only recognized it when I saw the light blue riding cloak thrown across a couch. I had been here once before, but one sitting room looks much like the next.
I had certainly never been in the adjoining room, but Isabelle hurried me straight to the bedroom door and shoved me on through.
"Isabelle!" I hissed, but she just shook her head and shoved harder.
"This is no time for modesty," she said, chiding.
"This is no time to scandalize your father," I said, though I relented and went on into the room. "Not when he could send me to the headsman with a moment's thought."
She cocked her head, considering me for a moment. I frowned. "What?"
"He could always do that, Daven." She said it lightly, amused. "He doesn't need the king's hounds for that."
"All the more reason—"
She hushed me with a finger on my lips. She stepped up close against me so she could shut the doors of the bedchamber behind her, and I felt a sudden heat surge in my face and neck. She smelled delicious, and I could feel her warmth. I was suddenly very aware of the massive bed less than a pace behind me. I licked dry lips.
For a long moment she stared up into my eyes, and hers shone with knowing. And laughter. "Something on your mind?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. I had to clear my throat, and I tore my eyes from hers. "Yes. The king and his soldiers. Your father. They are here searching for me—"
"And they would never believe I would hide you in my own bedchamber," she said. "They wouldn't believe you'd dare. They wouldn't believe Father would allow it."
I raised my hands and caught her shoulders. I took a slow breath and then a slow step back. "We already discussed this," I said. "If I stay here, they will find me. And the toll upon your family will be worse than you can imagine."
Her eyes and lips both tightened in an instant's stubbornness, but then she gave a little sigh and smoothed them out again. She turned to slip past me and stood tugging at the covers on the bed, needlessly straightening them. "Then what is your plan?"
I closed my eyes and thought through my options. After a moment I nodded. "I'll hide here," I said. "For all the reasons you said. It was a good idea."
She said nothing. I turned back to her, and found her waiting patiently. She tilted her head. "And then?"
"I'll go to the fort as we intended. The king's men have probably traveled far and fast. They'll need rest. But I do too, so I'll hide here for a few hours and get some sleep, then slip away before dawn while the king's hunters are sleeping off their late-night search."
She measured me with her eyes for some time. Then she said, "Are you sure you mean to sleep?"
I almost laughed. She prowled one step toward me, and I was searching desperately for the willpower to object, but she froze in place. Her eyes narrowed, her head turned, and a heartbeat later I heard it, too: footsteps in the hall, and coming fast.
I spun back to the room, eyes searching frantically, but Isabelle was calm. She stepped up behind me and planted a hand between my shoulder blades. She shoved me toward an open wardrobe. I stumbled one pace then ducked inside, slipping among her soft hanging clothes. She pressed the doors shut behind me while I squirmed to turn back to the doors, to find a position comfortable enough I could hold it.
"Hush!" she hissed, and her voice was at once stern and apologetic. "Daven, be still!"
Those words struck me. A cruel master had used them often during my days at the Academy. He had locked me in a dark closet and commanded me to work his magic.
But now it was Isabelle. "Please," she whispered, and I could barely hear her through the door.
I raised a hand and touched the door's polished grain. I took one long, slow breath, then let it out. I heard her sigh, and an instant later an insistent bang on the outer door.
Another followed the first, and then a deep voice I knew too well called, "Isabelle Eliade, are you there?"
I heard her father farther down the hall. "She might be anywhere," he said.
"This late at night?" the soldier asked. "I think not." He knocked again. "Isabelle Eliade! You may be in grave danger. Come to the door."
It was the voice of Othin, an officer of the King's Guard and a truly terrible man. I wanted to stop Isabelle, to keep her from him, but I dared not make a noise. I heard her cross the chamber, heard her pull the bedroom doors almost closed, and heard her open the hall door just as a new clamor began.
I leaned against the wardrobe doors. I longed to push them open, if just a crack, but I didn't dare. Othin had a fearsome reputation as a tracker and thief-catcher, and he had a personal grudge against me.
I was no mere mortal, though. Trapped in the darkness, I found the stillness I could never summon for Master Seriphenes. I took on the same wizard's sight that had allowed me to move the earth by sheer will, but now I used it just to look.
To the wizard's sight, the wardrobe's walls were as nothing. Instead of the paper-thin fabric of reality, I saw the underlying energies and powers—true reality. I saw the shape of earth and water and willpower that had been made into the cabinet around me, but it was a tiny, insubstantial thing. Beyond I saw the frilly carpets and frail tapestries, and beneath both was heavy, hard-hewn stone half a step away from raw elemental earth.
And blazing bright within the room beyond was the lifeblood of four figures. I saw Isabelle and Othin, the baron and the king, all clustered in her sitting room. I couldn't read the flare of vibrant power to distinguish one form from the other, but I knew Isabelle. She stood closest to me, but I think I would have known her shine anywhere.
"Father," she said, a little breathless. "Your Highness! What can I—"
Before she could say more, one of the other figures brushed roughly past her and into her private rooms. That one had to be Othin. My fists clenched at my sides and my jaw ground painfully. He had dared to lay a hand on her. I wanted to lash out at him.
Instead I held my place and cowered in the darkness. I expected her father to object, but he stayed as meekly silent as I. The king spoke as though nothing had happened.
"My dear Isabelle, look how you've grown!" he said. There was brittleness to the cheer in his tone.
"Hard years have passed since last we met," she answered, and her voice was cold. "In fact, I'm surprised you could find the time to visit us with such pressing business on your hands."
I kept an ear turned to their conversation, but most of my attention was fixed on Othin. I watched him move through the room, searching. He started at the wall opposite me, peeking behind a folding screen then checking the window latches.
"Hard years indeed," the king was saying. "The rebellion hardly broken before the dragons came upon us."
"The City's under siege," the baron said, his voice grave. "And Tirah has been attacked as well. Timmon tells me his wizards have the power to hold them off, but not enough to turn them away."
"Not near enough," the king said. "And so far we have only faced attacks in threes or fours. We have news from distant corners where flights
of twenty or more dragons attacked as one. The news grows darker every day."
"Then why have you come here?" Isabelle asked. She hurried on, more diffidently, "Surely these threats outrank even your generous love for this family."
The king gave a great weary sigh. "Alas, they do," he said. "But there's another threat among them: an assassin who stole boldly into my palace at Tirah, and perhaps even summoned the first of the dragons that attacked me."
My lips peeled back at the king's accusation, and I watched Othin move on through Isabelle's room. He checked the bed, the reading nook, and the fine mahogany chest.
The king went on without pause. "The boy is a fugitive. Expelled from the Academy and hunted by the Guard. He's dangerous and bloodthirsty. He speaks clever lies and leaves a trail of death wherever he goes."
Othin moved methodically around the room, and I could see him coming toward me. Of course he had suspected the wardrobe from the first. It was the only suitable hiding place in the room. But as long as I was hidden here, he had been safe to check the rest of the room. He came now toward the last refuge in the room.
And I could see all three of the others shifting, watching his progress. The air was heavy with expectation and nervous fear. The king's voice fell into that atmosphere like hissing venom, "And I fear he has found favor in this house."
I stretched the fingers of my right hand, aching for the feel of a sword's grip, and forced a slow, calming breath. Othin stopped just outside the wardrobe. I reached out my will to the energies around me, and time seemed to slow.
I could have formed a sword from the stones of the wall, or from the attenuated earth energy in the wardrobe's walls. My arms still throbbed with the pain of the effort I'd expended, but there was strength enough left for one more strike. I was sure of it.
A fire burned in the hearth, too. It seemed tame on its bed of stone, but there was more than enough heat there to consume the soldier—and his master as well, if it came to it. For one slow beat of my heart I focused on the dancing flame and felt Othin's dismal presence on the other side of the doors.