Shadow of War Page 3

  Sounds like he needs sleep, too. Talk about being on edge. We’ll need to tread carefully here. Atikus whispered in Keelan’s mind.

  “I never saw who was behind the skin mask, but Jess, er, Queen Jessia, was adamant that it was her mother. She was convinced the person wore her mother’s ring,” Keelan said.

  Keelan groaned as he swallowed his first bite of a steaming biscuit.

  Atikus winked. Told you.

  “Gentlemen, please!” Captain Proctor slammed a meaty hand against the table.

  Wilfred ignored them. “I fear Jess may still be in danger. Based on what my agents are reporting, Isabel plans to seize power, that means the throne. She’s not even hiding her intentions, talking openly about crossing the lake and taking command. The only way to do that is to eliminate Jess.”

  “But that still wouldn’t put Isabel on the throne, would it? Isn’t there another child in the royal family?” Keelan asked.

  Wilfred nodded. “Yes, Prince Kendall. But he’s only ten. Isabel would claim regency and seize power in his name. The Conclave could stop her and elect another regent, but who knows how the Lords would vote. Isabel has spent years building influence among the nobles.”

  Captain Proctor’s voice came out in a low rumble, like some restless beast’s growl. “Let’s not forget, Jess is Queen. If we keep her alive, none of this matters. Her safety has to be our highest priority.”

  Keelan didn’t understand why he was part of this conversation. He and Atikus were strangers, Melucian citizens. The Kingdom was “conducting war games” on their border, if that was to be believed.

  “I know I came into this conversation late, but would someone please explain what two Melucians have to do with any of this? The Queen’s safety is your concern, not ours,” he said, pointing a fork in the Royal Guard’s direction.

  The Sheriff started talking, but Atikus spoke into Keelan’s mind. “I don’t think they know who to trust. Isabel’s influence is everywhere, even within the Royal Guard.”

  “. . . and that’s why we need your help.” Wilfred took a long sip of his coffee.

  Keelan waited. He didn’t have the Gift of Telepathy and couldn’t reply to Atikus, so he decided to stay quiet and wait for the two Kingdom men to finish.

  Apparently, they had the same idea.

  No one spoke for a long, awkward moment. It stretched so long the serving girl finally broke the silence, slapping a large platter of roughly cut bacon on the table. She apologized to Keelan and ran back to the kitchen for his forgotten coffee.

  Keelan took a piece of bacon and stuffed it in his mouth, chewing as slowly as he could while staring at the Sheriff. He’d interrogated enough men to know how to win a staring contest.

  Wilfred finally surrendered. “Gentlemen, I know how strange this must be, two of the principal Kingdom officials talking with two Melucians about the security of the Crown.”

  Atikus grunted. “Strange? That’s one word for it.”

  Wilfred’s smiled didn’t reach his eyes. “Strange or not, here we are. If we lose Jess, our nation will fall to Isabel. She puts on a show of restraint, but those of us close to the family know better. She’s power hungry. Always has been. The Council won’t be able to constrain her impulse for conquest—and war.”

  Keelan’s coffee finally arrived. When the serving girl disappeared again, he leaned forward. “Sheriff, no offense, but I still don’t understand what this has to do with us. I’ve seen your Royal Guard. They’re quite capable. Atikus and I need to get back to our own country before—well, we just need to get home.”

  Captain Proctor cleared his throat. It didn’t help his gravelly rumble. “I’ve guarded the monarch my entire life. My only duty is the safety of the Crown. I can’t assure you Jess will be safe, even within our protection. Isabel—she’s wormed her way into every crack throughout our government.”

  Armor clanked as the giant crossed his arms and sat back, as if that admission had drained him of the ability to speak further.

  Wilfred’s whisper was urgent, almost pleading. “You saved Jess. She doesn’t know you, but she knows what you did, and that bonded you in a way. She would go with you if we told her it was the only way to keep her safe.”

  Keelan’s hands flew in front of him, fending off the Sheriff’s suggestion, disbelief threading his words. “Whoa. Wait a minute. You can’t be suggesting Atikus and I take the Queen of Spires—”

  “That’s exactly what we’re suggesting.” Wilfred didn’t blink.

  Keelan sat back. He thought he’d seen a lot in his time with the Guard, but this was a totally different level of insanity.

  “Queen Isabel will say we kidnapped her, that two Melucians stole her daughter. We’ll be used as an excuse for the war she already wants,” Keelan said.

  Wilfred didn’t give them a moment to think. “You’re probably right. It’s a terrible risk, but I agree with the Captain. We can’t protect Jess here.

  “To make matters worse, it’s been more than three hours since Isabel completed her ceremony. It only takes three hours to get across the lake. We know she’s coming; we just don’t know when. If she gets here before Jess is safely away . . .”

  5

  VELIUS

  The Arch Mage’s velvety blue robes rustled as he raced toward the Tower. Dozens of other Mages scurried around the courtyard as they attended to preparations. It had only been days since Atikus sent word to the Triad of the Kingdom’s troop movements, but the initial shock was now replaced by near-frantic determination.

  Quin’s breath labored as he trudged up the circular stairs to the tower’s peak. The natural magic of the vein flowing beneath the tower, combined with the ancient symbols etched in the walls and floors of the room at its crown, gave the caster an unparalleled increase in power and focus. He’d need both if they had any chance of surviving the storm to come.

  He paused in the doorway to catch his breath.

  “You’re getting too old for this, Velius.” A bent man with thinning white hair and a scraggly beard grinned from the scrying bowl at the room’s center.

  “Said the guy who looks like the Reaper himself!” Quin shot back with a grin between puffs. “Any luck?”

  “No. I can feel magic’s currents shifting. No, that’s not right. It’s more like someone dropped a hurricane in the middle of a placid lake. It’s chaotic, violent even. Whatever happened the other night, it disturbed the currents in a way I’ve never felt before,” the old Mage said.

  Mage Jerod Pelk had spent the last two hundred years studying magic’s currents. He was credited with mapping the veins that ran throughout Melucia and helping Mages find the most advantageous locations for various magical efforts. Something had jolted him awake two nights ago, and no one could figure out what it was.

  Quin gathered himself and strode purposefully to the center of the room. He was almost more troubled by the shift in magic than the Kingdom’s military aggression. Nothing made sense anymore.

  “Can you at least sense where the event occurred?” Quin asked.

  Pelk shrugged. “Somewhere west of the mountains, beyond the border. I’ve never mapped the Kingdom’s veins, so that’s about all I can say without actually going there.”

  Quin ran his fingers mindlessly around the scrying bowl as he thought. There had to be some way to figure out what happened. Magic didn’t act on its own. Someone caused this disturbance.

  “Velius. It’s Atikus.” Quin’s head snapped up and his eyes flew wide as a familiar voice boomed in his mind.

  “A lot happened over the past couple of days. King Alfred and Prince Justin are dead, and Princess Jessia has been named Queen. We think Queen Isabel killed her husband and son and plans to fight for the throne. But it gets worse.

  “We had two Gifted kidnappings. The Kingdom had more. We think Isabel was behind them all as part of some ancient ritual. The last sacrifice happened two nights ago, but we still don’t understand what these killings were designed to do. In total, seven Gifted were sacrificed.

  “The High Sheriff fears Isabel will launch the invasion if she seizes power. The people here are so whipped up, I don’t know if war can be stopped. He’s asked Keelan . . .”

  Quin waited, unsure if Atikus had been interrupted or simply stopped speaking. A moment later, he turned to Pelk, urgency entering his voice.

  “I have to go. Don’t worry about tracing the veins or the other night’s event. I need you to go to the archives and research any ceremony or ritual involving human sacrifice and magic. Specifically, one where seven Gifted are sacrificed. Get all the archivists to help. As soon as you find something, have a Telepath call me back,” he said, halfway out the doorway.

  Quin stopped and lowered his voice. “Jerod, keep this quiet. We have a leak somewhere, and this might be the key to stopping this war before it starts.”

  Before Pelk could ask one of the dozens of questions racing through his mind, Quin had disappeared down the stairs.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, the Arch Mage stood in the Triad’s meeting chamber in the capitol building. Three high-backed, gilded chairs faced each in a circle twenty paces in diameter. At its center, inlaid in gold, was a stylized representation of a human eye. The oculus in the ceiling focused sunlight on the eye, making it the most visible— and uncomfortable—place for any speaker.

  The dark, unlit balcony stared down silently, the normal buzz of onlookers quelled for the Triad’s private meeting. The ornate room was generally used for public debate or ceremonial functions. But Quin knew there was no more secure location to discuss critical matters. Scripts and symbols scrawled across the walls, floor, ceiling, curtains, and chairs. Practically everything in the place was warded with magical symbols and etchings.

&nbs
p; “What’s this all about?” General Titus Vre’s no-nonsense tone echoed across the chamber as he entered. Vre commanded the paltry Melucian army that everyone knew would fold under the might of the Kingdom’s forces. He was a good man given an impossible task, and he knew it.

  Before Quin could answer, the chamber’s doors opened, and Merchant’s Guildmaster Ceryl Burner shuffled into the room. Despite the urgency of their meeting, Burner greeted the others with a broad smile. The man was the most infectiously happy person Quin had ever met, and he couldn’t stop his own grin forming as Burner tossed his flabby frame into his chair.

  “What did I miss? Last time you made us meet in here, I was being accused of arranging kidnappings in the Kingdom. Rest assured, I’ve moved on to more wicked things since then.”

  Quin stifled a laugh with a hand. Vre glared at them, annoyed.

  “Let’s get on with it, Arch Mage,” the General barked as he took his seat.

  Quin remained standing on the Eye and his smile fell away.

  “King Alfred was assassinated,” he said.

  Vre and Burner spoke at once, but Quin silenced them with a raised palm.

  “There’s more.” He drew in a deep breath. “General, you may have less time to prepare than we originally thought.”

  Quin walked them through the brief message he’d received from Atikus. When he stopped, even Burner’s smile had fallen.

  “The army on our border was bad enough, but this ritual business actually worries me more. For a Mage to be jolted awake by an event in the currents, it had to be seismic, something that shook the foundations of magic itself.” Quin said. “We don’t even know what they’re trying to do, or if this is some kind of weapon. We’re badly outnumbered on the battlefield, but we’ve always had a significant advantage in magical power. If they used that ceremony to even those odds . . .”

  “We have the Mage’s Tower and the Well under the Silver Mountains. We can hold Saltstone, right?” Burner asked.

  Vre and Quin shared a glance.

  “I honestly don’t know,” Quin said. He thought a moment then turned to Burner. “Ceryl, what’s the intelligence network reporting? We need their eyes now more than ever.”

  Burner was usually jovial, to the point of annoying General Vre virtually every time they met. The stoic military man couldn’t understand why Burner, a butcher-turned-Guildmaster, was always so damned happy. The Guildmaster didn’t seem to notice the General’s annoyance, or maybe he chose not to care.

  But Quin’s question prompted a rare frown. Burner’s face scrunched uncharacteristically, as though he’d eaten something bitter and couldn’t decide whether to swallow or spit.

  Arch Mage Quin considered Burner, waiting patiently for his reply, fingers steepled at his lips. He knew the jolly man was more than he appeared, more than what he allowed others to believe. Burner didn’t just lead the union of merchants, a massive gaggle of squawking children constantly begging for better pay or easier work; he also managed the Melucian intelligence network, a web of shopkeepers and traveling merchants who regularly reported interesting tidbits that helped inform the Triad’s decisions. It was often said that commerce flowed through the veins of the nation, and Burner never lifted his finger from its pulse.

  “We only have two Telepaths remaining in the Kingdom. Everyone else went silent when they closed the border six months ago.” Burner stood, clearly agitated. He started to pace but stopped himself and leaned against his chair. “It’s bad, Velius. My men are in opposite ends of the Kingdom, yet they both reported criers in royal livery whipping up crowds, calling for volunteers. They’ve stopped hinting at our involvement in the Princess’s kidnapping; they’re stating it as fact. Worse, the people believe them. Several shopkeepers in Brighton were beaten to death by the mob after one of the criers called for vengeance. They weren’t even Melucian, but the crowd thought they were.

  “And the roads are clogged with troops headed east. All the roads, not just the King’s Road. I’d hoped my men would give us numbers, but they report there’s too many streaming through to count.”

  A bell tolled in the distance, indicating the turn of another hour. Burner started. “The Masters of the Guilds meet in thirty minutes, and I need to be there to preside.”

  Quin nodded, not really hearing. “We’ll resume later. Go handle your people and try to keep them calm. The last thing we need is a panic.”

  A moment later, Vre and Quin sat in silence, each staring into the Eye that was now brightly lit by the morning sun. The General turned to Quin. “Was he in on it? Did he do what the King’s men say?”

  “Burner? Kidnap Gifted? Kidnap the Princess of Spires?” Quin actually laughed as he looked up at Vre. “No. He’s a master spy, unrivaled by anyone, perhaps save Thorn on their side, but he’s loyal. Melucia’s coin makes him more so. Betraying us would cost him his wealth, and nothing in this world comes between Ceryl Burner and a gold coin.”

  Vre didn’t respond. His thoughts were lost in the Eye, unconvinced and searching for answers where none could be found.

  6

  BRET

  The sturdy stone hut held most of winter’s bitter wind at bay, but tiny whistles sneaked through cracks in the ancient window frames. Glass rattled with each hearty gust. Half a league below, flickering stars could be seen through the blanket of crisp darkness as campfires dotted the Kingdom’s countryside in every direction.

  Tab turned from the window and began unpacking his rucksack, tossing clothes across his cot in no apparent pattern. It had taken more than a week of hard climbing to reach the highest peak in the mountain range that formed the border between the Kingdom and Melucia. While the sixteen-year-old was strong for his age, a trek like that, in the harsh cold of a highland winter, could suck the life out of any man.

  He eyed his companion out the corner of one eye. “How long you think this hunk o’ stone’s been here?”

  Sergeant Bret Jensen sat across the cabin, covered in a pile fur blankets. He was a mountain of a man; it took a lot of fur to cover his bulk. His gravelly voice responded, “Hmm. Stories say these things were made by the Mages right after that mad witch Irina died trying to take over the world. Manning the peaks and the signal beacons was the most important duty given to the first Rangers. Guess that means they’re nine hundred, maybe a thousand years old.”

  “You said beacons. There’s more than just this one?”

  Bret sighed heavily and squinted up at the youth. “You really don’t pay attention, do you. Captain went over all this before we left. There’s fifty leagues of mountain border and seven beacons. Plus three more that are supposed to be secret.”

  He’d been Tab’s trainer and mentor since the boy donned the Green two years ago. He knew better than to get too close to a recruit, but something about the boy made him think of his brother back home. They had the same wiry brown hair that coiled in every direction. They even shared a ridiculous lopsided grin that somehow made Bret laugh just looking at it. But it was more than just physical resemblance that tugged at his heart. Guard duty was hard. Really hard. The days in the mountains were long and lonely, and the nights even more so. Some men just couldn’t take that much time with only themselves for company.

  But then there was Tab.

  Even in training, when officers tried to push the then-scrawny fourteen-year-old past his limit, he’d kept a grin on his face and a joke on his tongue. He just didn’t know how to be angry or sad or anything other than annoyingly chipper. Something about Tab’s innocence, his naive optimism, warmed Bret’s old heart.

  “Secret? Why keep a hut on a peak secret?” Tab asked, intrigued.

  Bret sighed, gave up on sleep, and sat up, scanning the boy’s disastrous unpacking. “There’s ten signal pyres. When one lights, all of us respond by lighting ours. That lets folks in Groves Pass know an attack’s coming. If the enemy wanted to sneak up on us, what’s the first thing they’d do?”

  Tab stared blankly, eyes strained in concentration and lips pursed to the right. Tab’s head finally bobbed excitedly, and a grin plastered across his ruddy face again. “Oh! I know! They’d take out our pyres. Wouldn’t want our folks knowin’ they were comin’.”