by Mike Shelton
The governor went into a coughing fit. After recovering, he said, “You mean to say that you had five hundred battle ready elves on my border this entire time?” His voice rose in anger as he spoke.
“With the fall of the barrier and the history of the aggressors of Alaris, it was a prudent move,” the ambassador said as he walked back to the table and picked up a glass of wine. “Don’t you think?”
The governor grumbled, but Mericus slapped the elderly elf on the back. Turning to Alli, he seemed to become serious again. “I guess we should have held that battle plan meeting earlier.”
Alli nodded then walked toward the door. “I will be ready. Meet me with your men at the gates to the city.” Turning to the governor, she continued, “Bring your strongest men to the gates. We must stop them from entering the city.”
Everyone scattered at once, all going to their men. Alli headed out to find Tam and get him going off toward the Orr-bound battalion of men. She knew they would need all the help they could against Kanzar’s wizards and mercenaries.
Two hours later, Alli stood boldly, but alone in front of the heavy wooden gates of Corwan. The doors stood closed and were reinforced from inside. The governor’s men sat low on the walls, hidden from view of the approaching army. Mericus and his men were down along a short incline, undetected between the road and the riverbank. The group of elves would be held back until needed—a final surprise for Kanzar’s men.
From down the desert road, where dust rose into the air, the sound of the army approached. The march here, even on horses, would have taken them a few days. So they would be tired, but approaching a desert city undetected would be impossible. The sun had set, and evening approached. Kanzar’s men most likely would be hoping for a morning battle—with time to rest. But that was not to be so.
As Kanzar’s men came around a bend, Alli used her strong eyesight to see Battlemaster Geoffrey and Alana, Kanzar’s wife, riding at the head of the group. Kanzar had indeed sent his strongest warriors. Alli kept her stance. Waiting. Waiting.
Then she saw Geoffrey’s eyes open wider as he recognized Alli for who she was. A look of worry crossed his face but was soon replaced by determination. She held his eyes in hers. He didn’t dare look away first from his prey, and that’s what she had been counting on.
He rode closer and closer, the rest of their army turning the bend behind him. Dirty and tired soldiers wiped sweat from across their foreheads. But their numbers could still do a lot of damage. At least a thousand men, with a dozen wizards, rode into view.
A yell, from Mericus’s men along the side of the road, sounded loud in the evening air. Then arrows flew out and struck a dozen men. Horses began neighing and scrambling away from the threat. Before organization could take over, a group of men rushed up from the riverbank with swords and began knocking down the Battlemaster’s men.
It took a few moments for things to sink in. But, when it did, both Geoffrey and Alana turned and returned fire in a fierce battle with Mericus and his men. Flames flew from Alana’s fingers and grazed Mericus’s hair. With a loud yell, he cut down two approaching men on horseback.
“Is that all you have, Mericus?” the Battlemaster asked. “A few traitorous men to stop us?” Geoffrey blasted a wave of air into a group of approaching soldiers. They fell without a fight to the hard ground.
With a whooshing sound, arrows began falling from overhead as the governor and his men started shooting from the walls of the city. The approaching men turned away from Mericus to meet this new threat. However, Mericus had kept other men in reserve, and they came up now, from behind, as well.
A few lone horsemen of Kanzar’s broke through the line and now raced toward the gate. Alli sneered at these on-comers and tapped a long staff between her hands. She stayed still until the men were almost upon her. Crouching down low and then jumping high into the air, she ran each end of the staff into both of the soldiers’ throats, knocking them instantly off their horses. More came, and Alli blasted out a sheet of air, knocking them down to the ground.
In twos and threes and fours, men broke through the line of Mericus’s men. Each group met Alli alone in front of the gate, and each group met the same fate. Alli was now in full battle mode: she spun through the air, flying over horses and into men, two and three at a time. She dropped her staff and now used two swords, one in each hand. The torchlight from above the gates reflected yellow on the sharp, spinning blades.
A mesmerizing dance of light ran through the group of men, cutting into some, knocking down others. There would be no mercy. Not this time.
Alli ground her teeth in frustration when, as two soldiers jumped from their horses and approached her, one almost caught her off guard, throwing up a bolt of fire at her. She did not expect him to be a wizard. She would need to think more carefully and not get distracted.
Reaching toward the ground, she picked up a handful of desert sand and pebbles. Then, opening her hand in front her, she blew a magical and forceful wind into her hand at the wizard. The sand and rock jetted forward and pelted the man in the face and chest, dropping him in agony to the ground. Without stopping, Alli jumped up high into the air and did a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn, battle robes flying out around her. Coming down on top of the other man, she knocked the sword out of his hand and then, with a small knife, pinned his foot painfully to the ground.
With a small break in the action, she looked down the lane and saw that Mericus and his men were tiring, many of them down on the ground. The Battlemaster turned toward her and, through the melee of battle, locked onto her eyes and walked purposefully forward to meet the young wizard. Using the power of his magic, he opened up a path in front of him. He threw both friend and foe to the side as he continued walking toward Alli.
As much as she wanted to take on the Battlemaster himself, she needed to set an example and stick to the plan. Though it did irk her. She jumped up into the air and spun around, her acrobatics distracting him momentarily. Then she landed and ran toward the river. The Battlemaster followed her.
Coming up over a small rise, however, he was met by a sight Alli was sure he had never seen in his entire life. A sight that would be the last one he ever saw. Five hundred fiery, red-haired, thin, and battle-trained southern elves rose from a crouch where they had been hiding and attacked as one. Within moments, they overran the Battlemaster himself, leaving him for dead on the ground.
The tide of the battle seemed to turn with this influx of men, and both Mericus’s and the governor’s men picked up their paces and began pushing the attackers back down the road.
From the top of the wall, a man yelled and pointed toward the river. So Alli ran to a side gate in the wall and was let in. She ran up a flight of stairs, to the top of the wall, and investigated what the man had seen. Wiping her sticky hair away from her face and brow, she studied what she was looking at and then let out a long-held breath. Warships now sailed in from Cassian also and pulled alongside the docks of Corwan.
A loud cannon boom filled the night air as the naval attack on the city of Corwan began from the river. Alli tightened her mouth and berated herself for not thinking about an approach from the river. She turned her eyes from the road to the docks and then back. In the failing light, it was getting harder to see.
She jumped down from the wall and ran toward the docks, bringing some of the governor’s soldiers with her. She hoped Tam had reached Azeem’s men quickly, for she didn’t know how long they could hold out against this double assault.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Roland stood in the practice yard and observed the training of the battle apprentices by a few older apprentices. They seemed so young to him. Not that they were much younger than Roland—in fact, a few were even older, but their techniques and abilities appeared so crude and untrained. Roland was positive that he had never been that lame. Having been an apprentice for far shorter of a time than most people were, he supposed watching the apprentices was all part of the responsibility of being so powerful.
Soon a servant brought over a platter of food for him. Roland picked out a few pieces of roast chicken, cheese, and bread and absently chewed on them while he continued watching. The influx of new apprentices continued to grow each week, and Roland now felt the burden of being in charge. He needed to find others he could trust.
A young, promising apprentice, from somewhere northwest of the Citadel, jumped high into the air and kicked out against her opponent. Her moves reminded Roland of Alli. That young wizard was sassy and hard to talk to, but her battle dance was amazing to watch. Alli flowed like the wind, her weapons becoming like extensions of her body. He smiled, remembering her shock when he had allowed her to take her wizard test and be promoted to a full wizard. She deserved it, as did he, even though they were so young.
The young apprentice finished, and Roland walked over to her. “You did well today. Elsa, isn’t it?” He had thought of her as young, but, at sixteen, she was virtually his same age.
“Thank you, sir,” Elsa said with a blush creeping across her face.
“How did you learn such moves?”
Elsa shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “It just comes to me.”
Roland smiled knowingly and winked at her. “Well, keep it up. We might have you teaching some of the apprentices soon.”
The apprentices standing around them looked at her jealously. It wasn’t good that their own efforts hadn’t been praised by their Citadel leader.
Roland laughed and pushed his blond bangs back from his face. “Don’t look so dispirited. There is reward enough for all who work hard. We are building the grandest collection of magic and wizards in the West. Keep practicing.”
As Roland turned around to return to the building, he saw a shadow move around the side of the courtyard, toward the stables. The figure had seemed to be clothed in black robes with a hood over its face: not the kind of attire for the middle of the day. Roland thought about motioning for a guard to accompany him but then figured there wasn’t much he couldn’t handle.
So Roland picked up his steps, leaving puffs of dust in the area behind him. Coming to the corner, he looked around carefully only to find the figure sliding around another corner, closer to the stables. He shouted out for the person to stop, but he or she either didn’t hear him or didn’t want to, and the person didn’t stop. Roland now started to run.
Turning around the last corner before the stables, he stopped and scanned everywhere around him. “Strange,” he whispered to himself. There was no way someone would have outrun him in that short distance.
A scattering of other small buildings stood around the stables, and Roland investigated in each one. While there, he decided to stop by and see the stable boys.
Entering the stable, his nose twitched at the odor of horses: their excrement and food mixing into a smell that never went away. Then he heard a small sound.
Turning back around, he almost ran into someone. Catching himself on a nearby post, he barely kept from falling down. “Hey, watch yourself—” he began to say, and then stopped himself. “Celia?”
The new apprentice from Solshi gazed boldly into Roland’s eyes, her lips holding a small grin, her eyes glittering, as if with a secret. “My lord.” She gave a short bow, her chest heaving with labored breath.
“What are you doing out here in the stables?” Roland asked. There were too many suspicious things happening lately, and, even though she appeared quite innocent, he didn’t trust her.
Celia’s eyes turned down, as if in embarrassment.
Roland sighed. Maybe he had come across too harshly.
“I miss my own horse, back home,” Celia said in a somewhat softer tone than Roland had expected.
Roland relaxed. That did make some sense. “You didn’t bring it?”
“No,” she said. “My family needs her to help with the farm.”
“Boy!” Roland yelled to the nearest stable boy. “Saddle up two of our spare horses. Our pretty apprentice here misses riding. I will take her out for a ride.”
The young boy bowed briefly, then ran to get the horses ready.
Celia clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, thank you. Thank you.”
Roland’s mouth opened with a grin as he watched her soft hair bounce around her shoulders in her enthusiasm. This was definitely going to be more fun than the paperwork he had planned on returning to. He would act the part of the gracious Citadel host and try to draw out what she was hiding; he knew there was something he was missing about her.
A few minutes later, they took the horses out of the stables, and Roland led them onto a trail that would wind its way around the back of the Citadel. Then he decided to venture a question to gauge her response.
“Celia, when you came into the stables, did you see anyone with a dark hood and cloak?”
Celia thought a moment. “No. Only the stable boys. Why?”
Roland shook his head. “Oh, nothing. I just thought I saw someone sneaking around.”
“There isn’t trouble, is there?” Celia opened her eyes wide and moved her horse closer to Roland’s.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Roland said. “Follow me.” With that, Roland galloped quicker, and Celia pushed her horse to catch up.
With a brush of air, she raced past Roland with a laugh. “Care to race?”
Roland was surprised at her riding abilities and competitive nature. It was refreshing, and he took the challenge.
Side by side, they raced down the trail. Winding intermittently through tall pines and soft grasses, they made their way around the back side of the Citadel. Roland watched Celia, noticing her joy as her dark hair bounced back behind her.
About three-fourths of the way around, they came to a halt by a small bridge leading across a narrow stream. They dismounted and let the horses move down to the water and drink their fill.
Their chests heaved with the exertion of riding, and Roland enjoyed looking at her rose-tinted cheeks. Her lips were full and seemed inviting.
A few inches shorter than Roland, she gazed up at him with a devious look in her eyes. Then, with determination in her pale green eyes, Celia leaned in and gave Roland a warm and lingering kiss.
The move surprised Roland. Usually, he was the one chasing the woman, not the other way around. He didn’t know quite what to think about it. His lips, however, brought hers back in for another kiss, this one longer and harder. In the distance, Roland heard faint voices from the Citadel but pushed them out of his mind. A few minutes’ respite and some enjoyment away from his duties would be welcomed.
Finally, Celia stepped back first, her pupils large and dilated. She let out a throaty laugh, and Roland joined in. They mounted their horses and, without much talking, resumed the ride back around toward the stables.
Celia rode out in front this time. Every once in a while, she would look back, her lips pursed, as if inviting Roland for more. Roland sighed and kept riding.
Arriving back at the stables, Roland found an uproar of voices.
“Sir,” called one of the stable boys.
Roland jumped off his horse and walked over to the worried boy. “Someone left some of the stalls open, and quite a few horses are now missing.”
“When did this happen? I was just here.” Roland turned his head to take a quick look around the stable.
“Based on what the other boys have said, sir, it seems it must have been right before you arrived.”
“Whose horses are they?” Roland turned his head toward Celia and then surveyed the stables.
“Each one belongs to one of the wizards still here at the Citadel, sir,” the stable master said, appearing nervous. “I sent men out to find them and gather them back. This is the third time this week something like this has happened.”
Roland arched his eyebrows in a question. “I haven’t heard anything about this.”
“We didn’t want to worry you, my lord. Thought it must be just a couple of lazy boys. But things do seem a little stranger than usua
l: first, some tack and gear went missing; then, some food; and now, these horses.”
“Either someone is packing for a trip, or they are trying to take away our ability to leave,” Roland said. He thought back to the other, seemingly separate happenings inside the Citadel that week. There were complaints of food missing from the cook, of clothes missing from the laundry, and of footsteps from someone sneaking around at night.
Roland turned back, to ask Celia a question, but she had left. Strange, he thought. She had said she was positive she hadn’t seen anyone in the stables, but he wanted to make sure. There was definitely something off about her. And, if she wasn’t the one who did this, she was definitely involved somehow.
He gave instructions to the stable master, to inform the captain of his guard to set extra men over the stables. Then Roland walked back toward the Citadel. During the brisk walk, he tried to piece things together. Someone was undermining his authority at the Citadel. That’s what it must be. Someone was trying to make him look bad.
As he climbed the wide, curved staircase to the second floor, the immense candelabra that hung down from the ceiling caught his eye. Each night, one of the wizard apprentices was given the chore to light it. But it was not lit yet, and the time for the evening meal was approaching.
His mouth tightened. Approaching Titus’s rooms, he knocked twice before someone answered the door. It was a servant.
“Fetch Wizard Titus for me,” he informed the servant.
The servant’s eyes went wide, and she curtsied and then went into another room.
Soon Titus emerged. “Am I to meet you for dinner tonight, sir?” the elder wizard asked, holding a book in his left hand. “I’m afraid I lost track of the time.”
Roland rolled his eyes. How could these scholars read so much when there was so much more to do? Getting straight to the point, he asked, “Are you and the other wizards behind the Citadel pranks?”
“Pranks, sir?” Titus furrowed his bushy eyebrows and stroked his long beard. “I’m not sure I understand you.”