The Mortal Mage, page 2
part #3 of The Mortal Mage Series
CHAPTER TWO
Beatrix made her way across the bridge beside Kirnich, both of them shivering with their arms crossed. She didn’t have the same number of wounds as he did, the worst seemingly at his shoulder. She could feel from his energy that it gave him the most pain. She would not complain about the cold, as it did not compare to what Kirnich suffered from silently.
She didn’t know what to hope for regarding this citadel. She would appreciate if they were given food and a hot bath, but that was unlikely even with her royal bloodline. There was supposed to be only one king of Goldram, a Raymess Takary who seemed like a good enough king to Beatrix from what she knew about him. He had refused to get involved in any of the wars in Ovira, even when another Takary had started the one before now. But even if he ruled over all of Goldram, Raymess probably wasn’t here in this citadel. Someone else was king to this frozen land, a man who clearly valued his bridge and his citadel. Both were in such good condition that Beatrix couldn’t tell whether they were constructed in the last few years or were managed with the utmost scrutiny. The stone beneath her feet was smooth and even slick. She supposed her boots would slip if she ran and stopped suddenly like she used to do as a child. Her eldest brother, Allephon, could slide farther around the castle grounds. He always made it into a competition, while she was just trying to have fun.
Allephon probably had survived the recent battle against the Elves. She’d witnessed most of his men retreating long before any of the Wind Knights had shown signs of giving up. Allephon had probably been toward the back, ready to run the moment he was in danger. He’d always been a coward.
My father would still be alive if it wasn’t for him, but the real blame falls on Jimmin Rofters. The traitorous councilman had put a lethal dosage of poison in Allephon’s hands, then convinced him it would only sicken the king, not kill. Allephon would control the army while their father was ill, proving his ability to rule, and retain command alongside their father once he recovered.
Allephon’s goal was clear: to prove he could control Tenred once they took the territory. He wanted it for himself rather than let it be passed down to Beatrix, as their father had planned. Allephon would’ve still gained control of Kyrro once their father died, but he’d never been a patient man.
Beatrix had seen plenty of evidence that her brother regretted his choices after all the horrors that his behavior had brought onto their family. But it was probably too late to save him now, even if she wanted to. Jimmin would find some way to kill Allephon and frame someone else for it. This would be easy for someone like Jimmin, who could lie to psychics without them knowing. However, that was presuming Kyrro would win the war. Both men would be executed if Tenred came out victorious.
But if Beatrix was able to put an end to the war before one side could win, before one king ruled both territories with uncontested power, she would bring about the justice that everyone deserved. Jimmin would be tried and executed for the murder of her father. Her brother would be imprisoned for years…she gasped as she realized something. She might be crowned queen in this scenario.
The thought had never entered her mind until now, and she didn’t care for it. She just wanted to get the akorell back to Basen in Kyrro and let him continue to lead her in this quest, as he’s done so far. However, he was unlikely to still be in Kyrro, given that the Elves had prevailed with their superior numbers. The leader of the Elves, Fatholl, was probably taking Basen and Leida back to their village in Merejic at this very moment. Fatholl would allow them to be traded only for the akorell.
Beatrix might never see them again.
“Is something wrong?” Kirnich asked.
He was always so attentive to her. It used to bother her, because the lust in his energy used to be as strong as a pungent odor, but it had shifted into a deep caring that actually brought comfort to her.
“I’m worried about Basen and Leida,” she told Kirnich.
“There will be time to worry about them after we get through this. We need a sign for you to give me if you sense someone lying.”
“I’ll scratch my ear, like this.”
Kirnich watched her scratch the bottom of her earlobe, but his gaze soon shifted to her eyes. She saw nothing but courage in his brown eyes, but she could feel a strong hidden fear from his energy. It matched her own. They were too vulnerable in this place, with no plan. They couldn’t even be certain as to where they were.
At least they weren’t the only ones on this long bridge. No less than twenty people in heavy coats traveled in the same direction, usually on a wagon with one or two horses at the front. Some wagons contained boxes or barrels, while others had their contents displayed openly, like animal pelts or bundles of wheat or hay. Others were coming back from the citadel with no horse, no wagon, and really nothing but one or two bags they carried on their back or in their hands.
Beatrix tried to stop one man passing by the other way. “Excuse me, sir.”
He didn’t slow down or even glance at her.
“Excuse me,” she tried again. “Why are people visiting this citadel?”
He continued to ignore her. She reached out with her mind for an examination of his energy before he was too far. He was angry and hopeless, as if he’d given up on something recently.
Halfway across the bridge, they approached one other man going in the opposite direction. Beatrix tried to stop him by asking him to wait. She even used psyche to attempt to make him interested, but his depression was too severe to alter. At least he looked at her and Kirnich for a moment, although his expression was malicious, as if scanning them for something to steal. She kept quiet after that, letting him go on his way, his desperation too dangerous.
The size of the double doors grew as Beatrix and Kirnich came closer, until they were twice the height of the doors to the keep she was accustomed to passing through, back at her former home. This citadel was different than her castle in almost every way. There was no city surrounding it, nothing but mountains, ice, and snow for miles. It was made from black stone, with pointed towers high enough to offer a vantage point over the natural barrier of mountains running parallel. The only commonality between this citadel and her castle was how the powerful structure would make any smart man think twice about attacking, no matter how large his army. Enemies to this kingdom would be foolish to enter.
Beatrix hoped she wasn’t an enemy.
There was only one guard in front of the black double doors to greet her and Kirnich. Across his shoulders was a thick pelt, white as snow. The fur of another animal, black as soot, covered his torso. He kept his sword unsheathed, its tip resting against the deck of the bridge. He had a long face with a square jaw, and his brushed back hair brought all focus to his harsh gaze that he set upon Beatrix. He looked like a rapacious man, eager to take anything he could from them without offering much in return. His bastial energy confirmed that he cared about nothing.
“I’m Beatrix Estlander,” she said. “And this is Kirnich Chalder. We came all the way from Ovira to meet with your leader.”
He cocked his head, his gaze shifting to Kirnich before falling back down to Beatrix.
“Will you bring us to him?” she asked, holding in her annoyance at his silence.
The stranger stared at her. There was nothing in his eyes besides greed.
“What do you want in return?” Beatrix asked in a flat tone.
He didn’t respond. Beatrix could feel boredom.
“Can you speak?” she asked.
He didn’t bother to nod or shake his head.
“It’s been a difficult journey to get here,” she snapped. “Can’t you see we are wounded and freezing? We have gone the entire night without sleep or food, and without a bite to eat today as well. I’m the princess of the kingdom of Kyrro, and I demand to speak to your leader.”
The man folded his arms. With the doors closed and probably barred behind him, paining him with psyche would do nothing but provide her with a moment of satisfaction. The guard pointed his thumb up with a flick of his wrist. Beatrix looked up to see the slanted wall above, with arrow slits that allowed archers to shoot down at them.
She felt a burst of anger from Kirnich’s energy as her trusted companion drew his sword.
“You threaten the princess now?” he questioned.
“Kirnich.” She put her hand on his arm and took out her money pouch with her free hand.
Kirnich let his sword-arm rest as the silent guard reached out with his palm upturned.
“Oh, so this you’ll respond to?” Kirnich thrust his sword back in its sheath, then stepped toward the other man and pushed him by his shoulder. “You say nothing to our request for an audience, for shelter and warmth, and yet you hold out your hand like a child asking for a treat as soon as she takes out her money pouch.” Kirnich pushed the uncooperative stranger again, the warrior’s sudden fury already beyond a level that Beatrix could control with psyche.
There was a flash of movement, and Kirnich grabbed the guard’s hand to stop a knife Beatrix hadn’t seen until then. The tip dug into Kirnich’s armor at the center of his chest. He twisted the man’s wrist, the knife falling as the guard finally let out a sound: a yelp of pain.
It would’ve satisfied Beatrix if she wasn’t so worried that Kirnich was about to be shot.
“The archer,” she warned Kirnich as she looked up and tried to see through the narrow slit in the stone. She felt one person there, along with a hint of aggression. She could pain whoever it was, but then her psychic ability would be known, and she would lose the upper hand at detecting lies.
“Get behind me, Beatrix,” Kirnich said as he pulled the guard close, spun him around, and wrapped an arm around the man’s neck to hold him still. The guard struggled for breath as Beatrix moved behind Kirnich.
“We’re here to see the king,” the big warrior announced.
“Peacefully,” Beatrix added. “We have important business for him, from the land of Kyrro in Ovira, and this man refuses to let us inside.”
“You must pay to enter,” the guard managed as he wheezed. “Everyone must pay with something.”
“I’m glad you found your voice,” Kirnich said.
So all those sent away must have nothing to offer. They will die in this harsh land, and whoever controls this area doesn’t care. What still remained a mystery to her was what the people gained by trading food or coin for entrance. Were they allowed to stay in this citadel?
She looked over her shoulder. A few people waited behind…very far behind, as they watched.
“We will pay by sparing your life,” Kirnich said. “Tell them to open the doors, and I will release you. Or say nothing and I will use your corpse as a shield from arrows as the princess and I turn around and walk back across the bridge, where I will leave your body to turn to ice. Which would you prefer?” Kirnich tightened his hold.
The guard gasped before he told them, “You may enter.”
“The doors are not bolted?” Beatrix asked.
“No.”
“How do we know we won’t be shot?”
“Because I will tell them not to as I take you to King Karoltow myself.”
It might’ve surprised another person how easily this man had been broken, but it was no surprise to Beatrix. Kirnich already scared most people whenever he became aggressive, and her twisting of the man’s energy had made him utterly terrified.
He practically ran to the doors when Kirnich released him. The door screamed in complaint as he opened it just enough for them to fit through.
“What about us?” someone called from behind.
The guard ushered Beatrix and Kirnich into the citadel without responding and slammed the door behind them.
“Give me my dagger back.” He held out his hand in the same way he had before.
“I’m keeping it until we meet with the king,” Kirnich replied.
The guard looked up before Beatrix had a chance to check their surroundings. An archer stood on a platform above with a clear shot down.
“Well?” asked the man who’d brought them inside, fear and anger making his voice shaky.
“What?” the hooded archer replied. There was enough light for Beatrix to see a grin upon his mouth.
“You know what, you nab,” said the guard. “Are you going to?”
Beatrix would’ve been worried if she didn’t feel pure amusement from the archer’s energy. She showed Kirnich a knowing look so he wouldn’t panic, either.
The archer said, “I’m not going to tell the king that I killed a princess from Ovira who came here on business.”
“They didn’t pay.” The guard’s tone was hinting.
“They’re not crossing through,” the archer countered.
So that’s why people come here with offerings. They must desire land on the other side of these mountains. What kind of king prevents his people from traveling? He extorts his own citizens!
Their escort cursed the archer’s mother as he turned to lead Beatrix and Kirnich deeper into the citadel. Although the entranceway was tall, it was narrow. Stone walls tunneled them in, though there were walkways above, where the citadel opened to reveal rows of stairs and railings.
The tunnel was straight and short, leading to a wall of carvings. It depicted a battle unfamiliar to Beatrix, one of fantasy, no doubt, with six legged horses and monstrously huge lions fighting amidst men. There was no opening to get through the wall, forcing Beatrix and Kirnich to follow their escort around the pointless thing.
Some of the walls rose up to become enormous pillars, supporting the walkways that were heavily in use. Footsteps thudded, but there was an emptiness to the air, a void that voices filled in Beatrix’s home.
She had to stop thinking of Kyrro’s castle in that way. It’s as much my home now as this place is.
Kirnich asked the guard, “Why are there so many bones out there?”
He didn’t answer.
Beatrix had a different question. Where are we? But more than that, she needed to know what Basen planned for them to do here. First she would have to speak with this king without saying anything that might make him want their akorell.
If it was anyone else besides Desil waiting back with the precious metal, she might’ve been worried, but she trusted him to take care of it and himself.
“The bones belong to men who were enemies of your king,” Beatrix guessed.
She could feel from her escort’s energy that her words were true.
“Not all died there, but their naked bodies were discarded in that place so they could be eaten by febeetles,” she continued, “and so their bones will remain as a reminder for anyone who tries to stand against your king again.”
It was true. She nodded to Kirnich as the guard kept his back to them. But she was missing something, sensing that the man wanted to correct her.
“Pay me, and you will hear the rest.”
Beatrix didn’t need to waste her precious gold coins on this boor. One question would give her the answer of who these enemies were. “Are there women’s bones among the men’s out there?”
Yes, she could feel from his energy. It wasn’t the word “yes” that came to her, for specific thoughts such as that were impossible to sense. It was how the pattern of human energy differed between agreement and disagreement.
Women’s bones in addition to men’s meant they were rebels, not an army of another kingdom. The people of Greenedge were different from those in her home continent in a few ways. Psyche hadn’t become public knowledge until two decades ago, so they had very few people trained in the art of energy manipulation. The other was that they often reserved roles of combat for their men. Women in Greenedge would fight only when it meant something to them personally, like when their king forbade them from traveling to more fertile land so they could feed their children.
Beatrix heard voices growing louder as she followed their perturbed escort through the citadel. The man eventually turned into what Beatrix thought would be a throne room. She appeared to be right, only she hadn’t anticipated the hundreds of people sitting on benches along the sides. Their chatter quieted as she froze.
Their escort headed toward a man who must be king. His throne was stone, as dark as the black walls and ceiling. She couldn’t get a good look at him past the three people fidgeting in front of him, standing as if on trial, with their wrists tied together, as well as their ankles.
“Should we be here at this time?” Beatrix asked the guard before he was too far to hear her.
He ignored her as he walked around the three people. Beatrix couldn’t focus on his energy any longer as the entire crowd stared at her and Kirnich. They must know each other well enough to identify that she and Kirnich didn’t belong.
It was usually impossible to discern any one person’s energy patterns—their emotions—among such a crowd, unless she was close to her target. But this was different. There was one emotion that the entire crowd felt so strongly that it was easier to tell what they wanted than if they’d been dogs salivating while staring at a steak.
Every single man and woman wanted desperately to leave this room. She spotted no children, which likely meant that what was to come would be gruesome.
“Beatrix?” Kirnich asked, no doubt wondering what she could tell from psyche.
“We came at a bad time.”
Before she could figure out if they should leave, King Karoltow called to them.
“Foreigners, come forward.”
CHAPTER THREE
Desil finally came to a hole in the cave that was at eye level. He could’ve climbed up the wall earlier for a look inside one of the higher holes, but if something was going to jump out, he would rather his feet be on the ground.
It was either courage or stupidity that brought him this far into the cave, with his sense of danger flaring. He would soon find out. He could hear movement around him but was still unable to see anything. They must be in the walls. He needed to see what he was dealing with before he went much farther.
