Severed Empire: Wizard's War (42 page)

Cordillera lifted a hand and stopped the tree before it struck him. The wood splintered into billions of shards that simply fell uselessly onto the ground.

The sorcerer’s magic was far too powerful for Mykal.

He’d been foolish to think he could win one-against-one, and had been defeated even with the help of his friends.

The tornadoes lost steam, as Mykal’s confidence shattered.

Blodwyn jumped in front of Mykal as Cordillera was only a few feet away. He leveled his staff, and as Cordillera thrust a pulverizing hand toward Blodwyn, fire shooting from the wizard’s palm, Blodwyn rolled forward, under the blaze. He swept his staff around, and clipped the king’s legs out from under him.

Cordillera didn’t fall, though. Instead, he levitated in the air.

Blodwyn was on his side, reaching toward Mykal. “The dagger!”

Mykal wasn’t sure what Blodwyn wanted.

In the sheath on his side was his grandfather’s dagger. He wrapped his hand around the hilt as he yanked it out of the sheath, ready to throw it to his friend.

He stopped. Something pulsed inside the handle of the blade.

It beat like a heart inside a chest.

Mykal remembered the mermaids he called on for help with Galatia’s pendent, and the sea serpents…

Chapter 41

It was nothing but legends. Stories. They were fantasies enjoyed by children, and told around campfires late at night. That was all, though. There was nothing to the tale.

There couldn’t have been. There were no signs of them ever existing before. There was no evidence of their race.

And yet when Mykal had first learned about the dagger, Blodwyn and Galatia had exchanged knowing glances.

He should have pressed them for details then.

It was too late for asking questions now.

The wizard was raising his hands, about to deliver a pulverizing blow of magic that would most assuredly end Mykal’s life.

The Grey Ashland would be swallowed up whole by the Mountain King. The Old Empire would once again be united, only not under the more thoughtful rule of someone like Henry Rye.

Darkness would become prevalent. Evil would be the norm.

Mykal closed his eyes, ignoring the motions of the wizard and focused all of his power, all of his energy on calling for help.

It was the one last hope, and he had no idea if it would work.

Part of him suspected it wouldn’t.

He tried suffocating the negativity.

He concentrated on succeeding.

Mykal summoned the creature whose fire forged the blade of the dagger he held in his hands.

He cried out in his mind for help, and sent his plea scattered across the worlds inside his head, across the lands, into what he considered the beyond.

There was no way of knowing how far his cries went, or needed to reach. He could only assume they had to extend far beyond the borders of the Old Empire.

The screeching roar exploded in the sky above them.

Aside from the flames of fires all around them, Cordillera looked up, searching the sky for signs of what had made the noise. “What did you do?”

Mykal backed away from the king.

He locked eyes with the wizard.

He focused solely on the man.

Waves of air fanned the fire from the sky. Black smoke billowed out sideways.

It came from over the sea. Was it the same animal Coil had seen years ago? Could there actually be more than the one?

Mykal watched the dragon fly toward them. Its wings were out, stretching for over a hundred feet from tip to tip. Its eyes glowed red, and amber.

Smoke blew from raised, flaring nostrils.

Cordillera spun around.

Mykal watched in horror, and fascination as the dragon tucked its wings in close to its side after one last flapping, and sped toward the wizard.

Its giant teeth dripped with drool as its jaw opened wide.

In an instant, the dragon’s mouth clamped shut over the king’s head. The head of the dragon was big, long, like a horse, only more pronounced, and its eyes were on the front of the face, not the sides of it. It was clearly a predator, not prey.

Headless, the Mountain King’s body remained standing as the dragon passed overhead.

Mykal saw the belly of the beast. The scales were sea green, while the rest of the dragon’s body was dark, forest green. Three talons were on the two front legs, and four on each of the two back legs. The thick and long tail snaked through the air the way the bodies of the sea serpents swam in the water. It was as if the tail propelled the dragon forward, and directed its path of flight.

The dragon rose straight into the air, and then dove back down toward the ground.

Mykal was not sure what to expect.

As Cordillera’s body began to crumble, the dragon flew in and snatched up the rest of the remains. With a flick of its head, it tossed the corpse into the air. Flames erupted out of its mouth, and blackened the Mountain King’s remains, before they dropped back into an opened wide and waiting mouth.

Mykal heard bones crush inside the dragon’s jaws as it flew back into the air. Stunned, Mykal stood where he was for a long moment.

Complete silence surrounded him.

He thought he’d lost his hearing, but slowly came to realize that all of the fighting had stopped. The knights, the Watch, the subjects had lowered swords and battle axes and stood with eyes fixed on the dragon that circled the sky over the sea before it flew toward a waning moon and off into the night.

One by one, the Mountain King’s knights dropped their weapons. There no longer seemed reason enough to fight.

King Nabal’s men gathered the enemy, but without a victorious celebration. The whole still appeared overwhelmed by the sight they’d witnessed.

Mykal caught them each taking turns ogling him in as much awe as they’d regarded the dragon, but looked away before being caught staring.

They were afraid of him.

Chapter 42

Wearing his royal robe and crown, King Golan Nabal stood inside the palace just in front of his throne.

On the steps below, Mykal waited beside his mother, Blodwyn, Coil, and Quill.

Just to Mykal’s right was Grandfather in his special chair with wheels, leg covered in his favorite blanket, and tears in his eyes.

The king’s knights and Watch lined the sides of the room, standing under tall thin windows. In front of them were lords, barons, and subjects anxious to watch the king’s court.

“We have dispatched knights to defend Ironwall Pass. The knights approaching will be turned around, or brought into the fold of Grey Ashland. We will also look into rebuilding the Eridanus Kingdom, and establishing it as a territory under my reign.” King Nabal rolled his thumb over the tip of his middle finger, as if the actions outlined were solely his idea.

A long moment of silence filled the throne room.

Mykal was prepared to die, but not before begging for mercy from the king for his friends. The crimes of magic committed were done by him (he had no reason to believe the king knew anything about his mother’s ability, and wanted it kept that way).

“This leaves us with one remaining issue,” King Nabal said. “And it is not one I will rule lightly on. I spent the last several days consulting with advisors, and meditating on the right and wrong of the facts pertaining to the case.”

Mykal almost sighed. He could do without the dramatic deliberations, and preferred hearing the ruling. He bit down on his tongue.

“It was my grandfather who outlawed magic from the Grey Ashland Realm. In time, the emperor, Henry Rye, agreed with my grandfather and outlawed magic across the empire. When the empire fell after Rye’s assassination, my father continued upholding the laws of the land. When I became King, I saw no reason to change the laws. We had survived in peace for centuries without magic. Few stood against the Watch, and those who did were swiftly punished.”

Executed
, Mykal thought.

“I am not here to upset the laws that have been in place since almost forever,” King Nabal said.

Here it comes.

“But neither can I stand here in good conscience and condemn a boy who fought valiantly on the side of
your
king against the evil plotting and attacks thrust upon our peaceful land. The Mountain King and his witchcraft failed. For that we actually have this boy to thank,” King Nabal said.

People applauded.

King Nabal held out his arms, silencing the cheers. “The crimes cannot be ignored. The boy is not so much a hero as a criminal who also acted in his own best interests. Being just and righteous as your king, I would be remiss to forget the truths surrounding the heinous acts committed the countless laws and decrees broken. However, I will not sentence the wizard and his cohorts to death.”

Mykal’s breath caught in his chest. He preferred death. He did not want to spend an eternity locked away inside a dungeon. He wondered if Nabal realized the almost immortality of wizards. A life sentence in the dungeon would be insufferable.

He should just whisk them away.

He could have escaped at any point, taking his friends and family with him.

He didn’t, though, despite Anna’s begging. She wanted them to flee the land.

Mykal had given the king his word. He wanted that to mean something. He did not wish to live out his life on the run, or stowed away inside a forest labeled as thieves and rebels. It looked like all good faith might have counted for nothing more than carrying out a life sentence… If that were the case, then so be it.

“Instead of death, instead of life in the dungeons, I banish the wizard from the land. By the week’s end it will be illegal for you, Mykal, to be on, or anywhere near the Grey Ashland Realm!”

***

Mykal used magic, and hoped the king would not find out. He wanted his horses. While he knew Copper was taking care of them, having them home with his Grandfather was far more important. Babe was saddled up and ready for the next journey. He packed belongings from his room, and when he was certain he couldn’t wait any longer. He met his friends and family out front. There, he stood on the grass in front of the porch of Grandfather’s small house.

Banishment was a crippling blow. The Grey Ashland was his home. All eyes were on him. He searched expressions for signs of pity. He wasn’t sure it existed. Still, he smiled warmly, offering them his reassurances. “I will be all right,” Mykal said.

Grandfather spoke first. “I know you will. I knew a day would come when you would move on. It was never just a possibility; it was always just a matter of when.”

Anna stood beside her father-in-law with her hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to worry, Mykal,” Quill said. “Although I have big shoes to fill, I suspect your Grandfather and I will be able to manage. It’s been some time since I’ve worked a farm. Hopefully, it will come back to me.”

Mykal was thankful the king cleared Quill of the allegations of treason. Nabal hadn’t forgiven all of the Archers, though. At this point, his uncle was his main concern. Grandfather wouldn’t be alone, and that was what mattered most of all. “I’m sure if you forget anything, Grandfather will have no problem reminding you!”

They all laughed.

“I have something for you,” Quill said, and stepped forward. He had something clasped inside his hand. He held out his arm, and unrolled his fingers revealing the dragonfly pin.

“I can’t take this. It’s yours,” Mykal said.

Quill forced a smile, but it failed. His face looked sad, instead. His lips a flat line. “It isn’t mine. It was your father’s. He gave it to me when I was about your age. I think he palmed it from the market. That didn’t matter none to me. It had been a gift from my brother, and I wore it proudly. I know he’d want you to have it.”

Quill worked the pin through the breast of Mykal’s leather vest.

“How’s it look?” Mykal said.

“Look’s great, nephew.”

“I’m not sure it makes any difference, kid, but your Grandfather has given me permission to open a blacksmith shop in one of the barns out back,” Coil said, dipping his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers.

“You’re staying on the farm?” Mykal said. Inside he rejoiced. He loved the idea. With Coil, and Uncle Quill around, Grandfather wouldn’t be so lonely.

“I am going to travel back and forth between here and the pass,” Coil said. “Those people back there are as much my family as Quill, and now your Grandfather. I am not a person who can abandon family. I will admit, I feel like one of the luckiest men alive to be loved by so many people.”

“You know I love you, Coil.” Mykal held out his hand. Coil grabbed it, and yanked Mykal into a hug. “You take care on the road, kid. And if you need me, ever, you call and I’ll stand beside you. You know that.”

“I know that,” Mykal said, his face crushed between Coil’s muscles. His voice was muffled.

“What?” Coil said.

“I know that,” Mykal said, again.

Coil released Mykal from his embrace. Mykal gasped for air. “I said, ‘I know that.’”

Coil laughed. “I heard ya.”

“There’s Wyn,” Quill said, pointing.

Mykal smiled at his friend. “What have you there?”

Blodwyn carried two staffs. He offered one over to Mykal. “This is for you. It is made from the same iron and wood as mine, and is something I’ve been saving just for you. Until your leg has time to heal properly, and after the courage and bravery exhibited over the last months, I believe you have earned the right to walk with a staff of your own.”

Mykal accepted the staff with his eyes opened wide, taking in the craftsmanship of the rod. “This is for me?”

“For you!”

“I love it, Wyn. Thank you!” He turned the staff over in his hands. It was solid, strong, but light. The wood looked rough like bark, but in his palms it felt smooth. Natural.

Blodwyn held up a finger, stopping Mykal from embracing him. “One more thing,” he said. He stooped over and removed a green cloak from his bag. “This is just like my cloak. It is strong enough to prevent arrows from reaching your flesh, the cold from freezing you to death, and the heat from cooking you like a goat over a fire stuck on a spit.”