Spell Fade (7 page)

Chapter Six

The fire in the middle of the room was more for light rather than heat, which meant it was autumn in the Northern Kingdom. The large, stone throne at the far end of the room was covered in thick furs, with King Jarel atop them.

“And you saw this yourself? You’re sure of it?” Jarel questioned the man kneeling in front of his throne, who nodded his bowed head vigorously.

“Yes, sire,” he managed to finally stammer. With his rough hands and deeply tanned skin, the man was obviously a farmer, but his clothes hung loosely on his skeletal frame. Tough times, of which Jarel was reaping the benefits.

Jarel had one leg thrown over the throne armrest, and regarded the man silently. “Very well,” Jarel was convinced. He moved his leg to the floor, sitting up straight on the throne. “The Northern Kingdom thanks you for your loyalty. Your deeds will not be forgotten.”

“Thank you, sire,” he said, struggling to his feet. His head bowed, he backed out of the room, adding, “I live to serve,” as he left.

“You could learn a lot from that man,” Jarel said to what appeared to be an empty room after the farmer left.

A deep shadow in the far corner stirred, and from it emerged Roal. “I hope you’re not talking about farming,” he said, approaching the throne. “Because he didn’t look like a very good one.” When he reached the royal crest etched into the stone in front of the throne, Roal kneeled, bent his head low, and waited.

“He does what is asked of him,” Jarel explained, leaning forward. “Exactly what is asked of him, and nothing more.” Roal remained on one knee, but raised his head to meet Jarel’s eyes.

“So, he has no initiative? No ability to think for himself or react when things don’t go according to plan?” He flashed a quick smile, then added, “Sounds like a dangerous man to entrust with much of anything.”

“Not quite,” Jarel replied calmly. “He doesn’t presume to know more than his king. Especially where it concerns the task he was given.”

Roal lowered his head. “Forgive me, sire. I would never presume to know more than my king.”

“Really?” Jarel leapt to his feet, smiling when Roal flinched, but didn’t move any closer. “Tell me then, did you use the scale?”

Roal didn’t immediately answer, silently fighting the urge to stroke the scale hidden under his shirt. He cleared his throat, shifted uncomfortably, and kept his head bowed as he answered. “I thought a test of its power was necessary.”

Jarel let out one clear laugh, and took a single step down towards Roal. “You thought? And who asked you to think? Where in my simple instructions were you led to believe I wanted you to think?” His voice had risen loud enough to be heard outside the room, but he wasn’t screaming, which was the most unnerving thing to Roal. He knew that calm tone heralded the storm to come.

“Nowhere, sire,” Roal answered quietly.

“So, you do presume to know more than your king.”

“No, sire. I-“

“And what were the results of this test you conducted?” Jarel interrupted. Roal took a deep breath, dreading answering this question even more than admitting he had used it.

“The wizard easily overcame my defenses,” Roal admitted. “The scale failed.”

“Stand up,” Jarel commanded. Roal hesitated for a moment, unsure of what he heard. When he looked up and saw Jarel waiting on him, he quickly rose to his feet.

“Use it now,” Jarel said. Roal raised his eyebrows, again unsure. “The scale,” Jarel clarified. “Use it now to protect yourself from me.”

“What?” Roal’s eyes widened as he saw Jarel pull his wand from his sleeve. “Wait!” he said, fumbling for the scale resting against his chest.

“Too slow.” Jarel pointed the wand at Roal’s arm and snapped his fingers, but it was the snap of bone that echoed back. An explosion of pain started in his arm, then raced up his shoulder to his head, where it pushed out everything else but the pain. He had no idea how long it lasted, but when it subsided enough to allow rational thought again, Roal realized he was screaming.

The arm that had been reaching for the scale now hung uselessly at his side. The bone above his elbow protruded through his sleeve, and blood trailed down his arm, pooling onto the floor.

“Try again,” Jarel said once Roal’s screams had died down enough to be heard. Roal pushed the pain from his mind, and focused on the scale. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and envisioned the protective shell around his entire body. The scale grew warm against his skin, and there was a small smile on his face when he opened his eyes. He met Jarel’s eyes, saw the wand pointed and ready, and his smile faltered.

“Better,” Jarel admitted, then snapped his fingers again. Roal actually screamed before the other arm broke, but the crunch still ricocheted across the room. “Not good enough, though.”

Sweat and tears dripped from Roal’s face, mixing with the pool of blood at his feet. His breath came in ragged heaves, exhausted from screaming, and he fought to keep the black edges of his vision from encroaching any further. So far he was winning, but not by much. Jarel stepped closer.

“How about another try?” Jarel suggested. Roal tried forming words, but his voice refused to cooperate. He was reduced instead to shaking his head vigorously. “Oh, come now. Giving up so easily?” Jarel folded his hands in front of him, his head lowered in thought, as he paced slowly around Roal’s shaking body. “I was sure you just needed a little motivation, but perhaps I was wrong.” His eyes widened a bit, he snapped his fingers, and said, “I’ve got it!”

Roal’s entire body convulsed at the snap, and hoarse screams, little above a whisper, followed.

“I’m sorry, Roal,” Jarel said, patting Roal on the back. There was a gentle laugh as he explained, “I wasn’t thinking when I snapped my fingers. You’re all right,” he soothed. “No more broken bones, yet.” Roal settled somewhat and struggled to control his shaking.

“What I meant to say,” Jarel continued, “was that maybe it would help if you knew exactly what was coming.” He let his fingers drag across Roal’s body as he circled back around to face him. “That way you can focus all of your attention on one point, and then surely the scale will work.” Jarel stepped away from Roal and raised his wand into the air.

“It’s going to be your left leg this time. I’m going to completely shatter your femur, sending pieces of it flying in all directions.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Now that I think about it, I should probably back up a bit.” Jarel took several steps back as Roal began to shake his head again.

“P-Please, sire,” he managed to croak out. Jarel ignored him.

“Now concentrate,” Jarel said, wand ready. He closed his eyes and could feel Roal gathering his strength, focusing on the leg. Then he felt Roal draw on the scale, and the power pushed against him. It pulled at his own will, trying to drain it, to overwhelm him. It was much stronger than before. Still wrong though, and not good enough.

“That almost tickles,” he said, snapping his fingers a third time. Bits of bone and blood showered his robes, and he brushed idly at them, wishing he had moved back even a little further, as he strolled back to Roal.

Without the use of his arms, Roal’s head crashed against the stone floor as his body collapsed to the ground. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, and blood seeped out from under his head. Jarel sneered down at Roal’s broken body, and snapped his fingers one last time, shattering his right leg. Roal responded with little more than a groan.

Jarel squatted down next to Roal, avoiding the pools of bodily fluids, and grabbed Roal’s chin. His eyes were half-closed, and rolling up to reveal the whites. Jarel shook Roal’s head vigorously.

“Don’t you pass out,” he commanded. “This part is important.” His eyes stopped rolling, fixing on Jarel’s face. His mouth tried to move, but Jarel squeezed harder on Roal’s jaw and through his own clenched teeth said, “Now is the time to listen.” Roal blinked and moaned. Jarel leaned in close. “You know nothing of the power this scale holds or how to wield it. Remember that. Always.” Roal managed a single nod, and Jarel released his grip, dropping Roal’s head back to the floor.

Jarel found the chain around Roal’s neck and snatched it off, revealing the single dragon scale. The dull brown triangle encased in a cage of golden strands twisted slowly over Roal, until Jarel placed it on Roal’s chest. Jarel closed his eyes, placed his hand above the scale, and quietly began reciting an incantation. A low hum matching the tone of his voice filled the room, as if the surrounding stones had joined the chant.

Jarel opened his eyes, and silence fell across the room. He reached out with a single finger, gently touched the scale, then rose and walked back to his throne. He kept his back to Roal, and shielded his eyes as a brilliant white light radiated out from the scale.

Roal’s screams again echoed through the room, fading as the light did. The silence that followed lasted only a moment, broken by a sharp inhale from Roal. His eyes opened, and he sat up, his hand reaching for the loose scale. His breathing was rapid as he looked down at his body, inspecting it with his free hand. Every bone and joint was in place, as was each thread of his clothing. Not even a stray drop of blood remained on the floor.

“Stand up,” Jarel said, turning back around. Roal placed both hands on the floor, testing them with his weight. Convinced they would hold, he planted both feet on the ground and slowly pushed himself up. He flexed his elbows and knees, feeling them stretch, stiff at first, as if they were new, but soon becoming just a normal movement. He finally looked up and found Jarel staring at him. Roal lowered his head.

“Thank you, sire, for teaching me humility.”

“And that,” Jarel said, “is the other important lesson you could have learned from the farmer.”

The scale hung inches from Roal’s bowed face and he stared silently at its crude form, amazed by the power contained within. He slipped the cool scale back into his shirt as he raised back up.

“And what did you learn from him, sire?” Roal asked.

Jarel smiled and draped himself across the throne again before answering. “The heir is on the move, and has found allies.”

“Already? I expected the wizard to wait as long as possible. When do we attack?”

“Sometimes I believe your eagerness may be your biggest weakness. Do not forget, we have promised him a month.” Roal rolled his eyes, but snapped them straight ahead when he saw Jarel raise a hand into the air.

“Have you forgotten the lesson so quickly?” Jarel warned.

“No, sire,” he said to the floor. “What would you have me do?” Jarel lowered his hand and waited for Roal to look up again.

“For now, simply follow the boy.”

“And his companions?” asked Roal with raised eyebrows.

“A girl and a large man, most likely a simpleton.” He gave a small shrug. “They should give you little trouble, should it come to that.” He then planted both feet on the floor and leaned forward before adding, “But it shouldn’t.”

“Understood, sire.” Then, after only a slight pause, “And once we reach the capital, what then?” Jarel simply stared for a moment, then covered his mouth with his hand and leaned back, as if in thought. The sound of his laughter broke free before Roal noticed the smile he was hiding. Once it was out though, Jarel threw his leg over the arm of the throne again, put his hands down, and let loose a few more cruel chuckles.

“My dear Roal,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Sometimes I think I put more faith in you than is deserved.” He leaned forward again. “Why would I have you follow the boy if he were headed to the city?” His smile was fading quickly. “I would have simply told you to take my army, surround the capital, and attack at month’s end.” He pounded the arm of the throne with his hand, all trace of the smile now gone from his face. When he spoke again that uneasy calm had returned.

“If he was headed to the city, I could have easily avoided this entire unpleasant, and frankly, disappointing, conversation. As it stands now, I fear there may be key elements within my strategy I must seriously consider replacing.”

Roal opened his mouth, an explanation ready, but closed it quickly. Excuses would not save him now. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to prove myself, sire. I will not fail you again.”

“See that you don’t.” Jarel leaned back. “They head west from his village. Seeing as the farmer decided to deliver this message personally, they will already be several days ahead of you, so I suggest you hurry.” Jarel paused in thought for a moment, then added with a smile, “I will see if I can’t arrange something to slow them down a bit. We did only promise the safety of the heir, after all.”

“Very good, sire,” Roal said with a bow, and then moved to leave.

“One last thing you should know before you go, Roal.” Roal stopped and waited. “I’ve been practicing breaking the neck without killing. Still haven’t quite gotten it down yet, though.” Roal swallowed hard, absently rubbing his neck. “Fail me again and we will see if my skill has improved.”

“I live to serve, sire,” Roal replied, and quickly retreated from the throne room.

Chapter Seven

The discussion on whether or not to leave wound up being no discussion at all. Dartan had already committed himself to follow the wizard, wherever he may lead. If he was going to learn anything of being a wizard, or his royal lineage, it would be with Alain. It also seemed to be what Mother wanted him to do. Aliet and Marcus though, had very different, but simple reasons for leaving.

Neither argued they could stay. A simple look around the dying land was all the rebuttal needed against that point. They had other options, farms in neighboring villages, a distant aunt living in the city, but Aliet wouldn’t even consider them. She had followed Dartan nearly everywhere since the day they met, and she could think of no good reason to stop now.

For Marcus, the decision was not so easily made. He stared at the two of them all evening, pacing back and forth across the small house, packing and grumbling. In the end, it came down to a simple promise he had made his parents – to take care of his little sister. It wasn’t something he was willing to break. In the end, it seemed as if there was no other real choice for any of them.