by B. T. Narro
Desil threw his arm around it and fell, pulling the energy down. The sword came with it, but even with Micklin out of sight of the pyforial energy he controlled, he was still able to shake the energy, and therefore the sword as well, like a wild animal trying to break free. It slid Desil into his mother, knocking her over. Another sword came to hover above her, but Effie shot it with a fireball as she lay on her back and blasted it into the ceiling.
Beatrix tried to rise, presumably to pain Micklin, but she ducked as another jet of fire washed over the tops of their sartious tables. Flames licked at Desil’s arms, forcing him and his comrades to shout out in pain until Effie reformed her long sartious shell to push the fire back. Heat still clawed at Desil through the thin barrier. He turned away and shut his eyes to endure the pain as he continued to wrestle the wild sword.
“Jimmin is obviously with them,” Desil told Beatrix. “He wants you dead.”
“That doesn’t make sense!”
“We have to kill them.” Desil spoke the words aloud because he needed to hear them just as much as Beatrix did. It was the only way to survive.
Who was this mage challenging his mother? He’d never heard of someone able to unleash this much fire without reprieve, and the hooked-nose man couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Desil.
“He’s trying to break the sartious energy!” Effie announced.
Desil noticed the tears in the table then, deep scratches across each one like an invisible beast ravaging it. Effie repaired the damage as soon as it showed, but destruction was always easier than reconstruction. Effie’s ragged breaths showed her fatigue.
“We can’t keep this up,” Desil told them. “Beatrix, get up and pain them both!”
The psychic was covering her head to protect herself against the immense heat, but she forced herself to stand and face her attackers.
The window behind them, in the kitchen, burst open. Girgis tried to dive through, but his legs seemed to get caught. He somersaulted across the stove and landed sprawled near Kirnich.
“I have him,” Kirnich announced as he dropped his bow to pull out his sword instead.
“Hurry,” Effie urged with a strained voice. “We need to stop the others as well.”
“You said Kirnich was injured!” Girgis yelled past them.
“He is,” Micklin yelled back.
Beatrix rose once more, only to duck again as a sword flew overhead. Desil grabbed his mother’s hand and pulled her to the floor. “Get down.” He needed her to focus at least a little more on protecting herself rather than the rest of them.
The sword barely missed Effie as it came back the other way, but the distraction had caused her sartious shell to turn to dust.
There was a flash of light as pain tore through Desil. It took his ringing ears a moment to clear before he realized that a fireball had blasted the tables into him and his comrades, moving the barrier to create a gap for more fire.
Desil was next to useless as he continued to wrestle one of the pyforial mage’s swords, and now he and his mother were about to be killed by a young mage whose name Desil didn’t even know!
Fueled by anger, Desil charged out from the scattered sartious tables. The ugly mage had climbed through the window at some point. He held out his wand. Light flashed. Desil ducked beneath the fireball, then jumped up to ram his shoulder into the mage’s arm as terrible heat scorched Desil’s scalp. He couldn’t tell if he’d been hit or just grazed, but it didn’t matter. He’d knocked the wand loose. He got his hands on the mage and threw him down.
Desil looked right into gaping blue eyes above that hooked nose. The mage tried to get his hand up as if to cast without a wand, but Desil forced his arm back against the wooden floor.
“Who are you?” Desil demanded.
A cloak covered the mage, but the contours of his body came through to show how thin he was. He tried to fight free, but Desil used his hands and knees to easily keep the young man’s limbs trapped. Desil managed to get his arm against the mage’s throat and gladly pressed down. There was a flash of panic in the young man’s cold eyes as his air was restricted.
He squirmed and managed to free his right hand. He lifted it in front of Desil’s eyes. Bastial energy whipped Desil as it flew past him to gather into a bright cluster. Desil rolled off the young man, figuring the mage’s desperation to breathe could lead to him killing both of them with a blast of fire. The rafters above let out the sound of a crack as the mage’s fireball hit the ceiling. Desil looked up and prayed the timbers would hold. Besides a black mark, he saw no damage. He jumped right back on top of the mage.
Beatrix walked toward Micklin with her hand aimed at him to aid her psychic spell of pain. His swords slid across the floor as he held his head, his other hand clawing the air between him and the king’s daughter. Kirnich seemed to be chasing Girgis through the window, but it appeared too difficult for the massive warrior to get through with his injuries as he was unable to put any weight on his arms. Soon he gave up.
Meanwhile, the mage howled as he shook his burned hand. It was what he deserved for trying to cast without a wand to better direct the energy. Desil could choke him again, but without a weapon to really threaten his opponent, they would find themselves in the same position as before. Desil searched frantically for the knife he’d dropped and located it in his mother’s hands.
“I’ll do it,” she said as she stomped toward the mage, wielding the short blade with a gripped hand as if to drive it down into his chest.
He mustered up a surprising amount of strength and half pushed Desil off, half squirmed away. He staggered toward the door before finding his footing, bumping into Beatrix ostensibly by accident and knocking her down. Micklin seemed to have given up as well, rising and falling as he scurried toward the door. Beatrix got back on her feet and thrust out her hand at him, making him collapse with another scream. Jimmin entered before anyone had exited, holding Girgis’s sword. Behind him, the fat guard peered over Jimmin’s shoulder with obvious fear.
“Beatrix, enough,” Jimmin warned. “Stop resisting, and you won’t be killed.”
The councilman didn’t look capable of swinging that sword with skill, but any blade could still be deadly against someone with no weapon, armor, or training in defense. Beatrix lifted the arm that wasn’t pointed at the debilitated Micklin and aimed at Jimmin. She let out a groan as if trying to hurt him, but all he did was tilt his head the other way as if curious about what she was attempting to do.
Desil and his mother put themselves in front of Beatrix as Kirnich slowly caught up. Effie made a sartious barrier as the hook-nosed mage lifted his hand as if to cast. He dropped his arm before enough bastial energy had been gathered to make light.
“Kill them,” Beatrix said with exhaustion. “I can’t keep the spell up much longer.”
But once Micklin was free, he could impale all of them in a matter of seconds. Girgis rushed in and grabbed one of the pyforial mages’ swords from the floor. Kirnich and Effie hesitated, as Desil had. The only way he and his mother, and Beatrix and Kirnich for that matter, had a sure chance of living was if their enemies fled.
“You will only be imprisoned,” Jimmin told Beatrix. “Stop resisting.”
“Have the fat one tell me that,” Beatrix challenged, “so I can really tell if it’s the truth.”
Jimmin looked from the sides of his eyes at Girgis. Neither of them spoke.
A woman entered the tavern behind their enemies. She must’ve been involved in this somehow, as there was no shock on her worried face. She looked to be about the same age as Desil’s mother, short and thin like Effie as well, except with white-blonde hair instead of black.
“Why did I believe you, Jimmin?” she whined. “You were going to kill Beatrix! How could you?”
Their enemies glanced back at her and lost their aggression. Girgis was the first to run, shoving the small woman out of his way. Jimmin and the mage were right behind.
“Stop them,
Annah!” Beatrix yelled as she tried to hold Micklin in place. Kirnich cautiously approached the fallen pyforial mage, but one of his slithering blades swiped at Kirnich’s shin. The large warrior let out a yelp as he fell backward to avoid it.
“No more bloodshed!” Annah demanded.
Beatrix fell to her knees in exhaustion. Desil jumped on the remaining sword of the pyforial mage, but Micklin no longer seemed interested in using it as he got up and fled too.
Desil watched them run down the path out of Kayvol until their shadows blended into the darkness.
“Move back,” Effie instructed, closing the door behind everyone, including the newcomer.
“You should’ve helped me kill them,” Beatrix told Annah. “Now they’ll come back for us.”
Desil recognized the name then. Annah was the one who’d betrayed Leida’s father. She’d told the king of Basen’s plan to stop the war. What Desil didn’t know was whether she’d been forced to do so under duress from Beatrix’s psyche, or if she’d done so by choice.
Desil’s mother faced Annah with a faint smile. “We haven’t seen each other in years.”
“Effie, my stars! You haven’t aged a day.”
“I…you…thank you. You haven’t, either.”
An awkward silence followed as Annah lowered her head. Effie’s compliment must’ve been a lie, which Annah sensed. Wrinkles fanned out from the sides of her eyes, and Desil figured her white hair had lost much of its original color. Life as the king’s psychic would probably be difficult for anyone, but Desil was getting the sense that this psychic didn’t handle tense situations well. She could’ve helped us kill Micklin and that mage. Desil was more concerned about them than the Girgis brother.
“This is my son, Desil.” Effie put her hand on his back. He sensed she wasn’t introducing him as much as checking to make sure he was all right, giving him a look of motherly worry. She seemed angry as she looked back at Annah. “What are you doing here? What was that?”
“And who was that mage?” Desil asked.
Annah answered him first after a sigh. “Erwal. A graduate of the Academy last year.”
That probably means Leida and Adriya know him. Desil would ask about Erwal when he saw them, which would be soon as long as there weren’t any other interruptions.
“Why do he and the others want us dead?”
Instead of answering, Annah threw up her hands. “I don’t want to be mixed up in this any more than I already am. I should hurry after Jimmin to see if we can find a peaceful way through this.” She started to turn, but Beatrix grabbed her arm.
“There is no peaceful resolution once Micklin is after someone.”
“I’m sure if that someone is you then we can figure out something.” Annah started to leave once more, but Kirnich grabbed her shoulder.
“Beatrix is right. Micklin doesn’t back down from his task. It becomes a game to him. Whoever sent him after Beatrix probably knew this.”
“I should’ve never trusted Jimmin.” Annah leaned down in hopes of catching Beatrix’s lowered gaze. “I’m sorry.”
Beatrix nodded without looking up. “I shouldn’t have trusted him, either.”
“So he can lie to psychics,” Desil assumed.
“He must be able to.” Beatrix rubbed her forehead. “This keeps getting messier.”
“He can put his energy in an unreadable state,” Annah explained. “I don’t know what else he can do, but he also can’t be pained.”
“I should’ve realized it earlier, but I’ve never tried reading his energy before now.” Beatrix’s head shot up. “Have you known about this for a while, Annah?”
She nodded. “He and his brother came to your father during his first year as king.”
“Jimmin has a brother?”
“A Tenred spy who I know little about. I hope he hasn’t changed sides. He can’t be detected by psychics, either.”
“So my father knew about both of their abilities?”
“Yes.”
“He should’ve told me. When did he tell you?”
“Well, I was working for him many years before you—”
“Just tell me.”
Sensing little left to gain from standing here, Desil left the group. He still didn’t know why Micklin was trying to kill Beatrix, and now Desil as well, but he needed to meet Leida before first light or she and her father would leave without him. He assumed Adriya would be with them, and although he thought of her as a friend, he couldn’t imagine her advocating for waiting beyond the deadline they’d issued for Desil to show up.
He helped his mother straighten up the tavern to her liking as he thought of how to broach the subject. His heart had finally calmed after the battle, but trying to tell his mother he was leaving again put his nerves back on edge.
“I’m sorry about the tavern,” he said.
“It’s fine.” She didn’t look at him as she bent down to take hold of one of the fallen tables.
Desil knelt down by its other side to help. “Have you checked if anything is broken?”
“Only the two windows will need repairs. I was hoping you could take care of that. You’re better with that sort of thing.”
His heart dropped an inch. “I have to leave soon.”
She let go of her side of the table just as they were setting it upright. Desil wasn’t able to prevent it from slamming against the floor, the noise turning Kirnich, Beatrix, and Annah around.
Effie was muttering something as she lifted her hand to them. “We’re fine,” she said sarcastically. “We don’t need any help!”
“I’m sorry, Effie,” Beatrix called back. “But we need to figure out what to do before Micklin has a chance to come back with new swords and a new plan.”
Effie muttered just loud enough for Desil to hear, “She doesn’t care that she puts my son’s life in danger.” Her angry tone rose as she grabbed the table and practically flipped it on her own. “Where will you be going this time, Desil?”
“I really want to tell you, but—”
“But you can’t,” she interrupted, then sighed.
“But I don’t know yet,” he corrected her. “You should come with us. I’m sure Basen would appreciate your help, as would I. Leida can’t control sartious energy the same way you do. There aren’t many mages who can. What if we run into another fire mage like Erwal?”
“It’s better if we both stay here.”
Desil wanted to convince her, but what could he say? Effie didn’t appear as if she would listen to anything he said as she began setting the fallen chairs into their correct places.
Eventually she stopped and looked over her shoulder. Desil hadn’t moved.
“I’m sorry,” she said, then spoke quickly without pausing for breath. “I’m worried about you and furious for the trouble that’s come here, and I’m realizing I can’t keep you safe without leaving the tavern.” She tossed up her hands. “And yet I can’t do that, either, or there won’t be a life for us to come back to when this is over.” She leaned back and sucked in air, her face red. “When will there be an end to this?”
“Soon.” Basen needed only two ingredients to produce the same powerful explosion they’d witnessed firsthand in Kanoan. The headmaster of the Academy should know exactly where to find akorell metal and eppil plants, though Desil had no idea where that was. It’s why he had to meet them before they left. He would never find them otherwise.
“How do you know where to meet them?” Effie asked.
“Leida surprised me on the way to the mountain. She told me then.”
“She came here just for you?”
Desil nodded.
His mother lifted her chin and pursed her lips as if waiting to hear more.
“What is it?” Desil asked.
“Did she tell you anything else besides where to meet her?”
He wouldn’t tell her about the letter Leida had given him, otherwise his mother would know that Leida had given him the option to stay.
“That’s it.”
“Oh. From what you told me about the trip you took together, I thought she might declare her interest in you. As more than a friend.” There was still the same worry in Effie’s voice, but it had softened considerably.
It wasn’t strange for Desil’s mother to hint at a romance between him and Leida. She did the same thing every time she saw Desil talking to any young woman. But Desil hadn’t told his mother about anything that had happened between him and Leida—bastial hell, I kissed her, didn’t I? Desil had somehow forgotten how he’d expressed his passion after he’d made it into the cave where the Marros had put her to die.
He touched his lips as the feeling came back to him with a trill of his heart. How could he have forgotten? Because I nearly died on the way to that cave and back, and then my father was killed. He wondered if Leida could’ve forgotten as well. He hoped not.
“There’s nothing between us,” he lied. It was important for his mother to know the headmaster’s daughter was not his reason for leaving again. “They need my help.”
“If Wade…” Her voice trailed off. “Sorry, never mind.”
She wishes Father was still alive and could go with me, or maybe in my stead.
“I know, and I’m sorry you can’t come with us,” Desil told her. “I don’t expect danger to come to the tavern again, but I still hope you will be careful.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He was glad it was the truth, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to leave her alone. Micklin and the others had no reason to go after his mother. Even if someone from the king’s guard came by to question her, she knew little of what was going on.
Desil pointed at the group near the door. “Did Beatrix and Kirnich tell you why they came here tonight?”
“All they said was that someone was looking for them at the Academy,” Desil’s mother replied.
Then why would Beatrix and Kirnich come here instead of the castle?
The answer he thought of seemed unlikely, but Desil couldn’t figure out any other excuse. They’d been scared of Micklin finding them on the way to the castle. Desil could only believe Kirnich’s fear came from nearly dying two days ago, as he had shown nothing but bravery during their days in Kanoan. But now they must be preparing to make their way to the castle. Beatrix would be safe as soon as she returned to her father.