A Clash of Magics

by Guy Antibes

  “Do you mind if we have a taste or two?” a large man with a broken nose and a scarred chin said. His partner was a small man and likely a magician looking at how he wore the knife at his side.

  “Not at all,” Win said.

  Trevor tried not to roll his eyes. An intimate meal might compromise their disguised identities, but the invitation was made. Trevor shifted over on his bed to make room for the little man and faced the bigger one.

  “There is plenty left,” Win said. “We were able to get some off premises at a restaurant.”

  “This must have come from an expensive restaurant,” the little man said, picking up a piece of roasted potato. “Oh, this is much better than the swill they serve us.”

  Win grinned. “We think so too.”

  “What are your specialties?” the big man asked.

  “Sword and archery for me and spears and magic for Win,” Trevor said.

  “Magic,” the small man said. “I am only good at that. Have you fought with magic or just trained?”

  “Fought,” Win said. “I worked with it some in Viksar.”

  “Ah,” the small man said. “You are Viksaran. That gives you an advantage, then.” He sounded disappointed.

  “Probably,” Win admitted, “although I’m not that experienced in battle magic. I can use a sword and a spear, but,” he shrugged.

  “I can’t use those,” the little man said.

  “What about you?” the broken-nosed fighter asked Trevor after he took a piece of roast beef and bit off a chunk.

  “I know how to fight. I’ve been doing it since I was young,” Trevor said. “Magic isn’t my style.”

  “Weak like me,” the big man laughed. “Just like a Presidonian. I’m good with a sword, and that’s about it. I’m not flexible enough to toss around a spear like they do in tournaments.”

  “Maybe we will face each other.”

  The man shrugged. “What use is there fighting with wooden swords? I’m hoping to do well enough to catch on with the army.”

  “Presidonian forces are that particular?” Trevor asked. “In Viksar, if you can breathe and walk, you can find a place in the army.”

  “I want to be a scout,” the man said. “I wish they had a competition for that, but you’ve got to get into the army, first.”

  Trevor nodded. “I’ve read some diaries. Scouting is dangerous, but it’s fun. I’ve done a bit myself.”

  The big man snorted. “It looks like you are good at everything. Officer material, right?”

  “I’ve done a bit of that, too, but I’d rather be a scout,” Trevor said.

  “Right,” the little man said. “I almost believe you, but almost.” He looked down, and as they talked, the food disappeared.

  Trevor thought the little man had almost as much food as Win had. Trevor yawned. “The tournament is tomorrow, so now that you are properly fed, Win and I will get some sleep. I suggest you do the same.”

  The two men looked at each other and grinned. “We need a little alcoholic fortification before we head to the field of battle,” the little man said, and the two bid them a good night and left Trevor and Win with nothing more to eat, and the time had passed for them to return to the practice field.

  “Do you need a little alcoholic fortification?” Win asked Trevor.

  “Not me. I’m headed for Jilgrath, hoping Glynna and Custik have arrived with Lissa.”

  Win yawned, except his yawn was more real than Trevor had guessed his was. “I’m full of my mother’s food. That will make me sleep exceedingly well,” he said with a satisfied-looking smile.

  Trevor pulled the ancient rod out of his waistband and held it tightly. “I don’t expect to be long.” Although he knew the house well enough to teleport to most rooms, he appeared at the bottom of the house’s steps. There were lights in the sitting-room window, so Trevor walked up and knocked on the door.

  “Trevor!” Custik said. “Somehow, I expected you to visit tonight. We just got Lissa settled into the sitting room for a few hours.”

  “Your journey was uneventful?” Trevor asked.

  “It was. The women traveled in the carriage, and Yvan and I had some great discussions on horseback.”

  “Are they still here?” Trevor asked.

  “We are leaving tomorrow morning,” Brother Yvan said, walking to the door.

  Trevor stepped inside. Reena sat next to Lissa, who looked weary. She rose and pulled Trevor over so he could sit next to his new wife.

  “How is she?” Trevor asked the group.

  “You can ask me directly, you know,” Lissa said. “I am doing okay, but Glynna made a potion that has robbed me of all energy.”

  “She will heal a bit faster, and her burns won’t sting as much,” Glynna said. “However, she will be tired and will likely fall asleep sitting next to you before long.”

  “You are the strongest person to take her up to the bed,” Brother Yvan said with a grin.

  Lissa blinked a little too slowly for Trevor. He gently picked her up. “Which bedroom?” he asked Glynna.

  “Follow me.”

  Trevor followed the woman upstairs and into the bedroom that Trevor had always stayed in.

  “She’s recovered enough for you to spend the night with her as long as you only sleep,” Glynna said.

  “I’ll be heading back to Tarviston when she falls asleep,” Trevor said. “I’m in a tournament tomorrow.”

  “A tournament?” Glynna asked.

  “I’ll tell you all in a few minutes. I don’t think Lissa’s going to be able to overhear us for very much longer.”

  Glynna smiled and left the room. Trevor sat on the bed.

  Lissa lifted the unbandaged hand. “I ruined our first night.” She was able to manage a dreamy pout on her lips.

  “I ruined it by being who I am,” Trevor said.

  Lissa smiled. “I suppose you did. You can make up for a teeny bit of it by kissing me, but you can’t touch my face. You’ll get all greasy from the salve Glynna used. We Viksarans are experts at healing burns.”

  Trevor squeezed her hand. “I’m fighting in an army tournament tomorrow with Win. It replaced the grand contest my father always sponsored. They let nonmilitary fighters compete, but I think they are confident that Presidonian soldiers will prevail.

  “You were a Presidonian soldier, and you will prevail.”

  Trevor smiled and shook his head. “I will win a round or two and then lose,” he said. “I can’t draw too much attention to myself.”

  Lissa touched the thick stubble covering Trevor’s face. “I can hardly recognize you. How can anyone else?”

  “They can. You know people by more than their faces. I was a fixture on the practice field. I’m sure someone will see the similarities of my fighting style.”

  “If you can bear to kill your mother, you have my permission,” Lissa said, her eyelids blinked slowly.

  “I think you’ve already given it.”

  She giggled. “I’m sure you are right. Kiss me before I fall asleep.”

  Trevor gave her a long, lingering, and gentle kiss. “That will have to do,” she said.

  He gave her another, but before he finished, her hand went limp in his. She almost snored. It was time for him to let the potion do its thing. He descended into the sitting room.

  “How is she?” Trevor asked.

  Brother Yvan pursed his lips. “Another week with the salve and Glynna’s potion at night. She needs to sleep as still as possible. Everything will heal, but the proper healing of burns takes a bit of time.”

  “She’s not the one we worry about,” Reena said. “From what Yvan says, your biggest worry will be your mother and sister.”

  “Not my sister,” Trevor said. “She is a reasonable person.” He related what he had learned about the regency and Lilith’s never-ending conflict with her mother. “The people can see she is trying to make their lives better.”

  “Softening up?” Custik asked.

  “I’v
e always been soft,” Trevor said.

  Everyone laughed.

  “Watch yourself,” Brother Yvan said.

  “No,” Trevor said. “I’ll be watching others.”

  Glynna groaned at the joke. “Take care of Win, then.”

  “As always,” Trevor said. “Perhaps we will be on our way back in a few days. The trip has already been worth it for Win, seeing his mother.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  ~

  T revor woke early and let Win sleep for a bit. He ran around the practice field along with twenty or so other contestants. He ate breakfast early before he returned to the room, observing Win rubbing his eyes.

  “Get something to eat. We can get some more spear practice in before the tournament starts,” Trevor said, gathering his sword and bow and arrows. He doubted if he would be able to use his sword or arrows in the tournament, but he wanted to be ready for anything.

  He warmed up using his Jarkanese sword. Other contestants watched him, and a few asked him about where he got the sword. He wore the cuirass underneath his Khartooian diving outfit. He figured the black would suit him. The soldiers wore their uniforms, and it was anything goes with the nonmilitary fighters.

  Win showed up, and all they did was review what Trevor had taught his friend the previous day. Their work was interrupted by a blaring horn. The participants gathered around a stand erected by the armory.

  An officer that Trevor recognized but couldn’t recall his name stood with his hands outstretched. “Participants. The order of the day is posted behind me. We will have preliminary matches, and the finals will be held on the jousting field. I have been told that Princess Lilith might attend, so make sure none of you bleed profusely.”

  The officer waited for the laughter to settle down. “Every weapon will have blunted tips. This is not a tournament with matches to the death. Presidonian officers will monitor each match. Soldiers will receive commendations, and a few might get promotions. You nonmilitary participants may get offers to join our army with a commendation in your record to start. Winning isn’t everything in this tournament, but it will count a lot.” There was a bit more laughter. “You are encouraged to watch the matches since preliminaries won’t be held simultaneously. If you have any questions, find someone else to ask.”

  The officer waved and stepped off the stand. Behind him stood the brackets. Trevor looked around and guessed there might be as many as two hundred participants. That would be a decent turnout for one of his father’s tournaments. What was missing were the crowds and festival atmosphere.

  Trevor waited for the stand to clear before approaching and struggling through the crowd to see when he would participate. Sword preliminaries were last. Magic was first followed by archery, spears, and then swords. There were more swordsmen than any other category.

  He stepped down, knowing when he could expect to be called and found Win fumbling with the charms at his neck. “I think I have enough,” he said.

  Trevor looked at a group of magicians talking to each other. There were few charms in evidence. “You won’t be attacking anyone,” Trevor said.

  “You never know. I can see you wore your chest piece.”

  “I checked. Leather armor is permitted. Metal armor isn’t.”

  Win nodded as the magicians were called. Trevor followed behind. The tournament tested the magical strength of the participants, not how they performed in a fight. Trevor was a little disappointed from a spectator point of view but relieved that some experienced battle magicians wouldn’t flummox his friend.

  The preliminaries went quickly. Win had the opportunity to show his lightning, but he didn’t. He made it through the preliminary evaluations but lost to one involving how long it took to hit targets with flames and then use wind to blow the flames out.

  “I could have used lightning, and there wouldn’t have been a flame to put out,” Win said. “I’ll do better with the spear.”

  “You held back all the way through,” Trevor said to his friend.

  Win sighed. “I can’t fool you. I was too nervous I would show everyone up, and I might have.”

  Trevor clapped his hand on Win’s shoulder. “Try a little harder with the spear and use the three tricks that I taught you.”

  The archery contest was easy for Trevor. He purposefully missed scoring on some attempts, but he still did well enough to get in the finals, despite not doing his best.

  “I’ll do worse in the final,” Trevor said.

  Win gave him a sideways look. “Had I known, I would have done better as a magician,” he said.

  The spear competition was done in heats. Win breezed through the first two and was about to let his opponent beat him when the other man’s spear cracked, and he was disqualified. He made it into the final matches later in the day.

  Trevor hefted the wooden sword he was given. They were all the same, and he was tempted to crack it before the match began. His first opponent was a junior officer whom he had sparred with before. Trevor had to use his left hand to disguise his style. The match was fierce, but Trevor’s superior ability couldn’t be denied.

  “You remind me of a former opponent,” the soldier said.

  “From Viksar?” Trevor asked.

  “Presidon. He didn’t have a lick of magic. Do you?”

  “I have a lick or two,” Trevor said. He pulled out the ancient rod and pointed it toward a signpost, and let fly a single pulse of red light. The pinpoint of magical light smoked a bit.

  The officer’s eyes grew. “You should have entered the magic competition!”

  “Not my thing,” Trevor said.

  Trevor bowed to the man and went to the water table, where he downed a mug of water. That was too close, he thought. He purposely lost the next match, holding his sword with as limp a wrist as he could manage.

  Win walked up. “That’s better,” Trevor’s friend said. “No one will notice you in the archery contest.”

  “And no one has seen you fight with a spear, right?”

  “Almost right,” Win said, “but no one in Presidon has seen me fight competently with a spear.”

  They watched the rest of the sword matches. The field adjourned for lunch. The final matches were scheduled for an hour and a half past noon.

  Win and Trevor sat in the shade of a barracks that faced the main field. The soldier that Trevor had fought brought along another young officer and sat down next to them.

  “I don’t know how either of you learned magic, but we both know who you are,” the former opponent said. “Your secret is safe with us. What brings you back to Tarviston. You must know your life is in danger.”

  Trevor introduced himself as Linny Volst and Win as Win Zutterak. “I’ve been dodging and not-dodging assassins since I left Presidon,” Trevor said. “I have no designs on the throne since I have secured another domain elsewhere.”

  “Not a kingdom?” the other officer asked.

  “I don’t need or want a kingdom,” Trevor said. “I married a week ago, and assassins invaded the room I spent the first night with my wife.”

  “And you lived to tell the tale!”

  “My wife suffered burns. We married in Jiksara. I decided I had to put the assassins to an end if I was to live the rest of my life in peace.”

  “You aim to kill the queen and the princess?” one of the officers said. Trevor could hear the wariness in the man’s voice.

  “No. I had an understanding that I would remain in exile when I left Presidon the first time. I held up my side of the agreement, but assassins attacked me before I even reached the border. I’ve been attacked many times since the usurpation. I want a better understanding. I am hoping that Lilith remains a reasonable ruler as regent.”

  “Unless she is blindsided or overruled by her mother,” one of the officers blurted out. “We won’t say a thing unless you physically attack the princess.”

  “And the queen?”

  Trevor’s former opponent pressed his lips together befo
re he said. “We will have to see about that. What will you do now that you’ve been exposed?”

  “Have I been exposed?” Trevor asked.

  “No,” both officers said.

  “Win and I will play in the final matches, but we won’t prevail.”

  The officers nodded. “A final goodbye to Presidon?”

  “Not the final one,” Trevor said. “But my farewell to the Presidonian army.”

  They ate their lunch while Trevor told them about the battle of Khartoo.

  “We have lived such sheltered lives,” one of them said with a grin.

  ~

  Trevor wasn’t entirely comfortable with the officers’ assurances that they wouldn’t expose them. He would remain wary.

  Contestants and former contestants mostly filled the stands, but more townspeople were looking on than Trevor expected. The magic competition was held with man-shaped targets. Even Trevor would have done well with his magic rod, but no one could throw a lightning bolt. Presidon was still a sheltered place.

  He went down to the field for the archery competition. The army provided bows and arrows, and Trevor took a quiver full. He looked up at the stands and met Princess Lilith’s eye. Could she have identified him so quickly? Trevor turned away and shot as accurately as the winner, but his target was a spot in the third ring.

  He walked off the field, glancing at Lilith, and their eyes met again. She rose and left the royal box. Trevor sighed. It was time to meet his sister again. He walked out of the arena, looking for Win.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see a guard. Trevor didn’t recognize him.

  “The princess gave me this for you.” The guard presented Trevor with a royal token and a folded paper. The guard turned on his heel and left Trevor staring at the man’s back as he disappeared into the crowd.

  He unfolded the paper. It was in Lilith’s handwriting.

  “You can use this token to get into the castle. I will meet you in your old quarters in the tower at sunset. You will excuse the condition of the rooms.”

  After he found Win, he left the tournament grounds. “Take Snowflake and find a stable close to your mother’s flat. If I don’t come back, return to Jilgrath and give Snowflake to Volst. Can you do that?”