The Forgotten King (Korin's Journal) (48 page)

“Max,” I admonished, gesturing to the featherswift owl.

“What?”  He took in Fleet’s vacant stare.  “Oh.  I am so sorry, Ithan.”  Max’s sympathy was short-lived.  “Nevertheless, why would you do that?” 

“We need to know if there are any townsfolk that we can leave the child with,” Ithan explained matter-of-factly. 

There was a loud crash behind us.  Sparks and ashes puffed out from the hole in the burning house’s wall.  We all covered our noses and mouths as the wind carried smoke towards us.  Briscott tried to cover the infant’s face, but she still erupted in a squeaky cough followed by more distressed screaming.

Max cringed, his ears flattening against his head.  “With lungs like that, I do not think anyone is going to go near it anyway.”

“Max,” I admonished again.

“Sorry.  I am just in a bit of a foul mood after what
he
did,” Max muttered raspily, glaring at Ithan.  Ithan averted his gaze. 

Max huffed.  “There is a general shop nearby.  There are survivors hiding in the cellar there.”

“All right, let’s go then,” I stated, but Max dug his claws into my shoulder—my injured shoulder.  I broke into a fit of coughing from a mixture of smoke and pain.  “What?”

“No, you need to find Salmaea and get out of this town.  I do not understand what made you explicitly ignore my instructions in the first place.”

“To get you.  You kind of disappeared, furball.” 

Max’s eyes narrowed.  “I got distracted, okay?  A wizard on their side recognized the Reservoir and decided he and a few soliders were going to take it from me.”  Max paused.  “And I may have ensured that a few residents made it to that cellar I mentioned,” he admitted.

“No hypocrisy there,” I muttered. 

“I’ll take her,” Briscott declared.  “You three go find Sal’.  Just point me in the direction the ring’s pulling you and I’ll head that way after she’s safe.  I’ll find you somehow.  I will
not
let her die.”

I could produce no argument.  “Okay.  Max, can you tell him where the cellar is?”

Max cleared his throat, coughing.  He proceeded to give Briscott directions to the shop.  “It is the only building with a stone foundation,” Max continued after telling Briscott how to find it.  “The cellar doors are around back.  Some troops from our side have hidden it with a tarpaulin sheet.  If you cannot find a clear way through, go back to the town’s fringe and loop around to approach the shop from the rear.  It will take longer but will also be safer.”

Briscott nodded.  “Loranis be with each of you,” he said with solemn eyes, clapping me—thankfully—on my uninjured shoulder. 

“You too,” I returned, not even considering for a moment my beliefs.  .

“We will see you soon,” Ithan added, promise ringing in his voice.

“You’re blighting right, you will.” Briscott gave us a weak smile and started away, keeping the infant cradled close to his body.  He looked both ways at the rear of the house and then disappeared around the corner. 

My chest tightened with worry.  Not only was Briscott’s and the infant’s lives at risk, but also Til’s means of finding us with the Tracking Stone. 

Max twitched.  “Give me just a moment more to calm my heart before we start out.”

“Just what
did
Ithan do to you, Max?” I asked, curious at what had so effectively snapped Max from his exhaustion.

“Oh, he just sent a little spark into my brain that made it believe my life was threatened, tricking it it into fight-or-flight mode.  The spell is similar to pretending to throw a stick for a dog.  It is a simple trick, but it gets the dog worked up all the same.  I am having a little trouble convincing my brain that I am not about to die.  Thank you for that, Ithan.”  Max shook his head. 

“Sorry,” Ithan mumbled, looking ashamed.  “That child will be safe because of you, though.”

Max’s expression softened at that.  “Needless to say,” he continued, “I am now alert, though I really should not be.  My body is still at the point of exhaustion, and the Reservoir is empty, so I have little to work with.  Once the effects of Ithan’s spell wears off, the fatigue will hit me once again, and I will be even more powerless.”

Ithan put a hand on Fleet.  “I can keep us safe,” he assured us.

“According to the ring, Sal’s that way,” I said, pointing my sword directly at the chaotic fighting filling the main street.  Then, as if the gods just wanted to have a little sick fun, a group of soldiers fell back into the alley, some running towards us, others fighting to cover their retreat.

“Run,” Max rasped gravely. 

I didn’t known if the troops were on our side or not, but I wasn’t going to argue.  I’d learned long ago not to question Max when he used that tone.  With Max on my shoulder, we retreated.

Chapter 42

Love is a Battlefield

Following the ring’s pull was an exercise in patience.  We’d find safe cover, wait for an opening, and then run to more safe cover.  We found ourselves crouching behind barrels, lying under wagons, and even sprawling in the bloodstained snow pretending to be dead as the fighting raged around us.  That last tactic was a stupid move on our part, but at the time, we hadn’t had much of a choice.  It worked, even if I could no longer feel my face and my now soaked cloak was starting to feel like I had a Kolarin hanging around my neck. 

Part of me felt like I should be doing something more, like I should be helping in the fight, but a bigger part kept me moving from hiding place to hiding place as I followed the ring’s pull—probably the part that dug claws into my shoulder and berated me whenever I tried to do otherwise. 

The ring eventually brought us before a two-story house.  We paid no attention to the thatch-roofed residence at first, actually steering clear of it, as there was quite the skirmish right outside its front.  After attempting to circle around the area, however, we realized that we were being drawn to it. 

We’d finally found Sal’s location.  If anyone had noticed my face-splitting grin, they would’ve thought I was mad.  The prospect of being so close to her was exhilarating.  But then that exhilaration turned to dread.

The entire perimeter of the house was literally swarmed with troops pitched in fevered battle.  Dead bodies were strewn about the outer walls, many wearing blue and black tabards.  I could see two members of the Wizard Guard still standing, fighting against no less than three opposing wizards.  Their spells were blindingly bright in the snowy gloom, imprinting white splotches across my vision.  The rest of the fighting was just an incomprehensible mess. 

“See that man in the steel cuirass and chainmail?” Max suddenly asked from my shoulder as we hid behind a woodpile the next house over.  “He is from Paigea.  The green lion painted across his chest is the symbol that represents Iridis, one of the smaller kingdoms of Paigea.” 

It took me a moment to locate the man among the fighting.  “Yes,” I answered absently, distracted by my visual search for Sal’.

“There is another,” Max spoke into my ear, speaking through a yawn.  His lethargy was setting back in. 
“The one with red-painted armor.  Though you cannot see it from here, I can guarantee that there is a gold tree inlaid on his chest.  That indicates he belongs to Tolin’s army . . .” 

I turned my head as Max’s words trailed off.  “And . . .” I prompted.

Max blinked a couple of times.  “Tolin is the kingdom in which the capital city of Lantrim is located.  It is the kingdom where the Prime Sovereign sits.  That man is one of your father’s soldiers.”

Upsetting as Max’s observation should’ve been, I just nodded.  What did it matter?  I’d already accepted Max’s word that Paigean troops were fighting for Gualain.  Did it really make a difference what kingdom they were from?  Sal’ was all I truly cared about at the moment.

“I know this must be hard for you to—”

“Do you two see her anywhere?” I interrupted, my eyes in rapid motion, trying to scan as much of the battle as possible.  “She wouldn’t be
in
the house, right?”

“And you wonder why I don’t show you sympathy,” Max huffed. 

“I don’t see anything,” Ithan offered.

“We need to get closer,” I spoke in a near whisper, straining to catch a glimpse of Sal’s wavy hair, her delicate face, her . . .

Any thoughts I had were interrupted when the entire rear corner of the house’s top floor exploded with a thunderous boom that would’ve made a dragon feel inadequate about its roar.  There was no fiery blast, just a hole blown outwards with no visible source.  Chunks of wood and plaster cascaded over those outside, including us—an entire house away.  I narrowly avoided having a torso-sized chunk of wall take off my head. 

What really caught my attention—even more so than almost losing my head—was the body that propelled from the source of the explosion as it sailed over the roof of a house cattycornered from where we’d been dusted with plaster remnants.

“Max, what was that?” I asked warily, relieved that Saiyre’s ring still pulled towards the house and not towards the blurred shape that had just flown overhead.

Max stared, agape, at the exploded wall, the dust from the explosion obscuring the new opening.  He was now coated in powdered white plaster that clung to his wet fur.  “That, Korin, was one of the most powerful blasts of air I have ever seen cast.  Not even in Paigea is such power common.  That blur that just passed overhead was the unlucky recipient of its wrath.” 

It was doubtful that Sal’ had cast the powerful spell.  She may have been the daughter of the Grand Wizard, but she didn’t exactly have the greatest aptitude for magic.  I sighed and resumed my frantic search, plotting the best way to make it around to the other side of the house to take in the battle from a different angle.

“Korin, look,” Ithan gasped, sending himself into a coughing fit from sucking in smoke and plaster dust.

My eyes followed Ithan’s outstretched finger to the hole that had been blown into the house’s second-floor corner.  Where the dust was clearing, below the now sagging thatch, was a figure rising unsteadily to their feet.  Wavy hair spilled down over their shoulders.  Though dressed in a Wizard Guard tabard—except colored in black and gold—it was, without question, Sal’.  From her hair, to the glint of rings on her fingers, to her posture, I knew it was her. 

My heart unclenched and danced a little jig until I thought about the battle surrounding the house.  From where we hid, it was hard to make out much, but I could tell that Sal’ was barely keeping on her feet as she turned and disappeared behind the intact portion of the wall.  She looked to be in no shape to fight anyone.  Numbing dread traveled through my limbs. I had to force myself to breathe.

“I cannot believe
she
did that,” Max said, turning his head as if to gauge how far the person she’d blasted from the house had flown.

“I’ve got to go after her,” I spoke, standing from our cover, sword in hand.  As I started briskly forward, I felt tiny daggers stabbing into my shoulder.

“Korin, you cannot get through that mess.”  Max’s eyes conveyed sincerity, if not exhaustion.  Well, I think.  Reading squirrel eyes isn’t an exact science.

“Then lift me up there,” I suggested, thinking back to when Max had once levitated Sal’ to save my ass at Galius’s manor in Byweather.

“Do you want me to explain all the things wrong with that suggestion, or just call you stupid and save us all some time?” 

I raised an eyebrow.  Max sighed.

“First, I do not have a source to pull that much magic energy from, nor the energy to direct the spell.”

My gaze settled on a weary Ithan.  “Then maybe Ithan could—”

“What?  Lift you above a mass of enemy forces who will most likely notice you floating above their heads?  Do you really think you would be allowed to enter the house that way?  Even if the enemy did not try to stop you, those two wizards from the Wizard Guard would,” Max explained in vexation.

“But why would the Wizard Guard—?”

“Open your eyes, Korin,” Max snapped.  “Can you not see that they are trying to keep the enemy from entering the house?  They have no way to know that you are on their side.”

Max was right. 
Again.  Stupid squirrel.  “Then clear me a path,” I growled.

“Korin, you cannot take the risk,” Max shot back sternly.

“Then you two can try to stop me,” I challenged.  “I came here for Sal’, and I’m not going to let anything happen to her.  We may need her, Max.”  Then, to myself,
I
do
need her.

“Let him go,” Ithan advised.  Ithan had a hand on Fleet, a poignant sense of acceptance in his eyes.  “I can cover him.”

“No,” Max reiterated.  “I will go in and—”

“Max,” I interjected, “you are in no condition to help her.  You may be able to help Ithan get me in, though.”

“And if you do get to her, then what?” Max retorted, scrunching his nose in irritation.

“Just keep an eye out for me,” I answered, pointing to the house’s missing corner.  “Clear me an escape route.”

Max’s eyes locked directly onto mine, and he let out a deep breath.  “Korin, I know that you have feelings for Salmaea.  I care for her as well, but I care for
you
even more.  Whether or not the prophecy truly means that you need to live for Raijom to be stopped, and whether or not it means that you are able to do something about this war, I care about you.  That said, sometimes sacrifices must be made—”

“Max—” I could tell that Max’s words were not spoken easily; he’d never been one to express sentimental feelings in words.  However, I didn’t like his insinuating that Sal’ should be sacrificed.

“Sometimes sacrifices must be made,” he repeated, cutting off my interruption, “and
I
will make this one.  For you.  Go get her.”  Max smiled through tired eyes.  I smiled back and gave an appreciative nod. 

We quickly came up with a plan of the formulated-on-the-fly variety. 

I sheathed my sword and took a deep breath as I mentally prepared myself.  My thoughts drifted.  I hoped that Til’ was safe.  I hoped that Briscott had gotten the infant to the survivors.  I hoped that I could get to Sal’ in time.  I hoped that I could get her out of the house without getting the both of us killed.  I hoped that I didn’t soil my pants, given what I was about to do. 

I turned to Ithan.  He was cradling Fleet in one arm, with Max sitting atop the poor owl.  At one time, that would’ve set off Fleet’s hunter instincts.  Now, she didn’t even blink. 

“Are you sure you can do this?” I wasn’t referring to the magic necessary for the plan, but what it would mean for Fleet.

“Yes.”  Ithan’s tone was resolute, though his eyes were distant. 

“We will do our part,” Max assured me.  “You just worry about yours.  Be careful.”

I smiled.  “Max, when has being careful
ever
worked for me?”