The Squire Read online

“I can find out.” She rose from the bench and a white glow surrounded her. She lifted a few feet off the ground and spun in a circle. Her eyes popped open. “She’s in the royal garden.”

  Col glanced around. “How many gardens do you have?”

  “Four, and they’re all connected.” She walked to the edge of the garden. “Down there is the water garden. From the pond run right until you reach a thick hedge. Look for purple flowers; they mark a gap that leads to the royal garden.”

  Col looked down at the shimmering water below. “Ah, shit.”

  He jumped, the wind whipping through his hair for a second before he hit startlingly cold water. Col’s feet struck the bottom and he kicked off. He broke the surface, and, sputtering, swam toward the right bank, clambered out of the water and ran.

  He passed marble benches and statues of animals, rose bushes and blackberries, before at last reaching the hedge. Col trotted along beside it until he found a clump of purple flowers. He pushed through and popped out in another garden. In the distance he heard voices.

  She was close.

  Col ripped his sword from its sheath and ran. The voices got louder; they came from a clump of peach trees. He pushed through the branches and found Callion standing over Rain.

  “Time to die, Princess,” Callion said.

  Col leapt at Callion and knocked him away from Rain.

  His sword went one way and Callion’s dagger the other. They wrestled around, Callion cracking him in the ribs and Col answering with a head butt that broke Callion’s nose.

  They kept rolling. Col couldn’t get a good grip on Callion with his wet hands. Somehow Callion got on top of Col and wrapped his hands around his throat.

  Col gagged and dots swam in his vision.

  Callion yelled and arched his back. He staggered to his feet and turned away from Col, who sat up gasping for breath.

  Col looked up. The hilt of Callion’s dagger stuck out of his back and Rain stood behind him wearing a look of horror as though she couldn’t believe what she’d done. Col couldn’t believe it either, but she hadn’t finished the job.

  Callion took a step toward Rain and reached toward her. “How could you?”

  “Callion!” Col said.

  He turned and Col hit him in the chest with both hands. The blow knocked him off his feet. Callion landed flat on his back, the force of the impact driving the dagger out of his chest. He gasped once, and then stared at Col through dead, disbelieving eyes.

  “Col!” Rain ran to him and he held her while she cried. “He tried to kill me. I’m sorry I didn’t listen I just wanted everything to be the way it was and I thought he loved me and we would be together like back home.”

  “Easy, Princess, take a breath. You’re safe now.”

  Banging came from the far side of the garden. Col scrambled for his sword.

  “Callion blocked the door,” Rain said.

  Col relaxed. It must be Tahlia with the guards. “Will you be okay if I let them in?”

  Rain wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded. “I’m fine now.”

  Col doubted that, but he didn’t want the guards to break the door down. They walked to the door, Rain leading the way as he had no idea where it was. When they arrived, Col shoved the bench aside. Outside, Tahlia, along with a handful of guards and a white-robed man, stood waiting.

  “Is she…” Tahlia asked.

  “I’m fine.” Rain spoke for herself; head high, no sign of the terrified girl visible. She could act; Col had to give her that. “Squire Col arrived in time to stop Callion.”

  Tahlia smiled. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

  “Where’s the body?” the man in the robe asked.

  Col pointed back toward the peach grove. “I’ll show you.”

  He glanced at Rain. “I’ll wait here,” she said.

  Col nodded and led Tahlia and the others back to where Callion’s body waited. “I don’t know what he was thinking. Even if he killed her how did he expect to escape?”

  “That’s one of the things we hope to learn,” Tahlia said.

  The man in the robe made a methodical search of Callion's body. He found little save a small box, a few coins, and a handkerchief. His hand glowed like Tahlia’s had in the garden and he passed it over the coins. He passed it over the box and a black spark leapt at him. The man jerked his hand back like he’d touched something hot.

  “Dark magic,” Tahlia said.

  The man nodded and opened the box like a man expecting to find a snake waiting to strike. Inside, on a velvet cushion, rested a small black marble. Col shook his head. What the hell was that supposed to be?

  “A Dark vessel,” the queen murmured.

  “Correct, Majesty,” the robed man said. “I suspect it contains a portal spell. Once the boy had killed Princess Rain he would have fled back to Zarrin through a Dark portal.”

  “There’s no doubt then that the lich sent him?”

  “None, Majesty. There’s no way the boy could have gotten this from anyone else.”

  “Majesty, what’s happening?” Col asked.

  Tahlia looked at him, all traces of casualness gone. “Nothing good. We need to have a talk. It’s time you and Rain find out what’s happening.”

  * * *

  “Nine hundred years?” Rain was staring at Queen Tahlia and Col couldn’t fault her reaction. He and Rain sat in soft leather chairs with the queen in a parlor deep in the palace. “He’s that old?”

  “Indeed. Zarrin is one of the few survivors of the Great War. We believe he was an apprentice to one of the darkcasters that died. That’s speculation on our part of course. What we know for certain is he’s the most powerful darkcaster in the world and he and his army have laid waste to now six of the Lake Kingdoms. His invasion of Corinthia is the first time he failed in his objective.”

  “Failed? I’d say he did a pretty good job destroying my home,” Rain said.

  “The destruction and chaos are a means not an end. Zarrin has one and only one goal: breaking the ten royal swords. The swords can only be broken after all the members of the royal family are dead. You, Princess, are the first to escape after one of Zarrin’s attacks.”

  “I don’t understand.” Rain got up and paced around the little room. “What’s so important about that stupid sword that he’d kill thousands just to get me and my family?”

  “The swords are anchors that secure the Darkness’s binding. Every time a sword is broken the binding loosens a little more. When all ten are gone the Darkness will be free and the Dark Wars will begin again. That’s what he wants more than anything.”

  “That’s insane,” Col said. “I’ve read some of the histories. Millions died in past wars. Angels and demons laid waste to whole kingdoms. Why would anyone want that?”

  “Darkcasters like Zarrin thrive on conflict; it makes them stronger. If the Darkness is freed Zarrin will become ten times stronger. He’ll have a river of Dark power to draw on instead of a trickle. The lightcasters’ power will increase as well, but none living have any experience in using their powers in a large-scale conflict. That alone would give Zarrin a huge advantage.”

  Rain dropped back into her chair. “Why didn’t they seal the Darkness so no power escaped? If they did it right this monster would have no power.”

  Tahlia smiled a gentle smile. “I understand your frustration. Imagine a boiling kettle with a cork in it. If no steam escapes what happens?”

  “It explodes.” Col understood now. “They had to let a little out or the prison wouldn’t hold.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So now what?” Rain asked. “Do I have to hide here forever?”

  “For the near future at least. You’ll be in danger anywhere you go. If you’re willing to learn, however, there may be something you can do to hurt Zarrin.”

  She leaned forward, eager now. “Tell me.”

  “You need to strengthen your connection to the sword. Our lightcasters can teach you how. When the connection is stron
g enough you can call it to you, snatch it right out from under his nose.”

  Rain grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

  * * *

  Two weeks and nothing from the boy. Zarrin paced in his casting chamber. Reliable help was so hard to come by. He stumbled and looked back, three toes from his left foot had fallen off. He couldn’t delay anymore. The girl would have to wait. He sent a mental call and a few seconds later the door opened revealing the imposing form of the Black Prince.

  “You summoned me?”

  “I’m leaving you in charge of the army. I need to return to the citadel.”

  “The noble brat failed, I take it. What do you want me to do?”

  “Gather food and supplies. When I return we’ll begin the final push.”

  The Black Prince’s armor creaked when he leaned in. “At last. Everything will be ready when you return, master.”

  Zarrin dismissed his servant with a wave of his hand. The Black Prince could handle the army while Zarrin prepared his new body. He stepped into the circle and spoke the words to an ancient spell. When he finished Zarrin started the long walk up to the courtyard. His transportation should be waiting when he arrived.

  The shadow drake towered over the terrified beastmen in the courtyard. Thirty feet long with smoke-gray scales, the shadow drake was one of a handful that escaped the final battle of the Great War. As Zarrin approached, it crouched to allow him to climb up between its wings.

  When he’d gotten a secure seat Zarrin sent a mental command and the drake leapt and lashed its wings. In moments the castle resembled a speck on the ground. His steed needed no directions; it knew where he wanted to go. It flew deep into the mountains, beyond the territory the beastmen claimed for their villages, to a dark and desolate spot high in the peaks where nothing grew and the air carried such a chill that a mortal man wouldn’t last an hour.

  On the top of the highest peak, on a spot flattened by magic, his former master’s sanctuary thrust into the gray sky. Constructed of black basalt and held together by Dark power, the citadel was his master’s final legacy. The drake landed on the highest tower and let his master down.

  Zarrin dismissed the creature with a thought and crossed an open bridge to the citadel proper. A door of black wood swung open at his approach. Zarrin remembered when, over eight hundred years ago, he’d mastered the Dark sufficiently to overcome his master’s guardians and claimed the citadel for himself. The excitement of that accomplishment didn’t begin to compare with how he felt when he found the cache of Dark artifacts his master had left along with a tome of secret lore. It had taken another ten years for him to master it all.

  Zarrin walked down a circular staircase and at the bottom another door opened and he entered his primary casting chamber, a circular room covered in runes. In the center rested a stone table upon which a fresh body waited. Dark magic had preserved it perfectly for the last hundred years, just waiting for his eventual need. Zarrin opened himself to the Dark and began to cast.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Col crept through the familiar Corinthian hardwoods, a dozen soldiers—a mix of trained men-at-arms and farmers—following him. They’d followed the trail of a raiding party of beastmen for the better part of the morning and as noon approached Col figured the monsters would stop to rest and eat. He’d left Celestia two months ago to return home and begin building a resistance. This lot of men represented the best of the first band he’d assembled.

  Sure enough, the grunts and snarls of beastmen soon reached them. Col held a finger up to his lips. The men gathered around him. He pointed to six then gestured left. The other six he led to the right.

  Slow and silent they worked their way closer. Through the branches of a short scrub oak Col spotted fifteen beastmen, a mix of wolves and boars. They were tearing meat from the dead bodies of two women. He grimaced and nocked an arrow. At least the women were dead; once Col had seen a group devouring a man before he died.

  He glanced at his men, making sure everyone had their weapons out and ready. He drew and loosed, his arrow taking a wolfman in the throat.

  Fourteen sets of eyes turned his way.

  The moment they did the second group hit them from the opposite direction. The beastmen turned to fend off the attack.

  Col waited until they’d committed to the first attack then he dropped his bow, drew his sword and led his men forward.

  They hit the beastmen from behind. Col stabbed and slashed and in less than a minute all the monsters lay bleeding on the ground. “Anyone hurt?”

  One young man had a cut on his chest, a shallow wound that would heal fast. Col bandaged him up and looked around at the rest of his people. They stood around grinning and talking about their victory. The farmers had come a long way in the month and a half he’d been with them. During the first attack they’d trembled so they could hardly hold their weapons.

  “Sir?” Sergeant Smyth walked over. Finding the veteran and his men still patrolling Pike’s Cove when the sloop the Celestians had loaned him sailed up to the dock had delighted Col. He spent the first two weeks scouting and bringing any survivors back to the little town. “I think they’re getting the hang of it.” Smyth said.

  “That they are. I’ll be heading out tomorrow. Are you ready to resume command?”

  Smyth frowned but nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Are you sure you need to leave so soon?”

  “I’m afraid so. One resistance cell isn’t going to cut it. I hope to repeat what I’ve done with you and your people at least ten more times by the end of the year. Until I find a big enough group to build on I’ll send anyone I meet your way.”

  “I like that plan, sir, though I’d feel better if we had at least another hundred fighters to defend the town.”

  “I’d feel better if I had an army of fighters like you and your squad. Let’s hope we both get our wish. Gather them up, we need to head back.”

  Smyth bellowed orders in his sergeant’s voice. Col winced, hoping there weren’t any more beastmen in the vicinity. Smyth was a hell of a soldier, but stealth wasn’t his strong suit. Smyth had the men in order in less than a minute and they marched back toward the town. One more hot meal and a good night’s sleep then Col would leave it all behind to start fresh somewhere else.

  * * *

  They got back to town before sunset and Col smiled at the progress the work crews had made on the palisade. A wall of sharp logs now surrounded the town and grew thicker and taller every day. It wasn’t a castle, but it would give anything short of a small army of beastmen pause. One of the four watch towers they’d planned was up and the woman on duty waved at them as they approached.

  Col waved back. “Morale seems good.”

  “Yes, sir.” Smyth walked beside him a few feet from the men. “It goes up at about the same pace as the wall. You sure we shouldn’t bring back a few heads and spike them for the monsters to see?”

  “Very sure. The last thing you want is a wolfman scout to see a bunch of his packmates’ heads decorating your wall. He’s liable to run back for his friends and attack, fortification be damned. Better he sees a well-built defensive position with alert sentries. When he runs back to his friends he’ll be more apt to suggest they find an easier target.”

  “Got you, sir. The longer the monsters stay away the better, far as I’m concerned.”

  “I doubt you’d find anyone to argue with you.”

  Their little column reached the gate, a wagon covered with sharpened stakes they’d rolled into a gap in the wall. A pair of soldiers rolled the wagon aside and saluted as they passed through. Col and Smyth both returned the salute and headed toward the inn. Down by the docks the boats were arriving with the day’s catch, most of which they’d smoke for winter storage. It looked like they were in for a tough winter, though with their lake access he suspected Pike’s Cove would manage better than a lot of communities, those that survived the beastmen at least.

  Smyth pushed the door to the inn open and Col f
ollowed him inside. The savory scent of fish stew simmering in the kitchen set his mouth watering. The one thing Col thought he’d miss most when he left was a hot meal at the end of the day. They went to the map in the center of the room and Col marked the location of their most recent skirmish. It was the second group of scouts they’d killed less than half a day’s march from the village. Col shook his head; it wouldn’t be long before the ugly brutes located the town. When they did he hoped whoever led them wouldn’t consider Pike’s Cove worth the bother to attack with a large group.

  Col had an early supper then went up to the little room they’d offered him to pack. He wanted to get an early start. When he had all the supplies he could manage loaded into his pack he took out a small map and tried to figure out where he should head next.

  He’d scouted the next village east when he first got back and found it burned out and abandoned. Col considered for a moment then grinned. He knew the perfect place to check next. Baron Dorrik’s castle was the next logical stop. It had a strong position and he knew the people there already, assuming they’d survived the last two and a half months.

  He lay back and closed his eyes a moment before he sat back up. He should send Tahlia an update. Who was he trying to kid? He just wanted to see the beautiful queen’s face again. He dug the orb she’d given him out of his pocket and thought of her. A moment later the orb glowed.

  “Majesty, I’ve completed training the first resistance group and plan to move on tomorrow. The beastmen are patrolling the area, but I’ve seen no sign of large troop movements. I’ll report again when I have more intelligence.”

  The glow vanished. He waited for a reply, but gave up after a few minutes. She must not have been near the master orb. Col held the little orb and remembered when Tahlia gave it to him.

  * * *

  Col walked out into the moonlit garden and found Tahlia sitting on the bench where they’d first spoken. She slid over to make room for him and he sat without comment. He still felt a little awkward meeting a married woman like this, but since they only talked he supposed it was okay.