The Forgotten King (Korin's Journal) (22 page)

“More than squared, really.  Thank you for everything, Bill.”  I stood and clasped his hand in appreciation.  “Just one question, though.  What’s with the whole crazy tattoo thing?”  I waved my other hand in a circle around the lower half of my face.  “Now that I know you’re from Alandrin, I’m pretty sure it’s not some tribal custom.”

He looked at me thoughtfully.  “Were you intimidated when you first saw me?”

“Yeah, I may have nicknamed you Mess With Me And Die A Slow, Horrible Death.”  Til’ paused in the middle of talking to Briscott to laugh at that.

“There’s your answer,” Bill said, smiling. 

I found myself smiling with him.  Bill was one crafty bastard.  Between his tattoos and intimidation-by-silence skills, I was sure he wouldn’t have many Setters brave enough to attempt pulling one over on him.

He turned to gesture to his men.  “Ispan, get some bedrolls for our friends, here.  Niliv, you and Hullic take first watch.  Ispan and I will head back towards where those creatures attacked.  I want to cover our tracks and make sure there are none coming after us.  Korin, I’ll be back within the hour if you need anything.”

“We’ll be fine.  You’ve done more than enough for us already,” I assured him, my tongue feeling heavy in my mouth.  The tashave leaf was really taking hold.  I could barely feel my various pains anymore.

Once we had our bedrolls, Bill and his men had set out to ensure the camp was safe.  Briscott, Til’, and I sat around the fire, exhausted yet unable to sleep.  Fighting eldrhims and the undead can do that to you.

“Briscott, would you mind giving me and Til’ a moment alone?” I asked.

Briscott stood and stretched. 
“Sure thing.  I think a short walk will do me some good.  Got a lot on my blighted mind,” he answered.

I nodded in gratitude before Briscott turned to walk away. 

Til’ immediately burst into conversation.  “Korin, can you believe we’re finally going to go rescue Max, Sal’, and Xalis?  It’s sad that once we do, I’ll be leaving you, but I made a promise to Bhaliel.  I wonder if I’ll get to see a lot of dragons.  Do you think they’ll be mad about Bhaliel?  How cold do you think it is in the mountains?  Have you—”

I held up a hand, laughing as Til’ jumped from one question to the next without giving me time to answer.  “Slow down,
Til’.”  My laughter faded as I looked into his large eyes.  There was something that had been concerning me since he’d first appeared back at Jefren’s camp.  “Til’, you really seem to be taking all those deaths back there pretty well.  Are you really okay?”

Til’ blinked a few times, his eyes dropping from me to the flickering flames.  “In Isaeron, almost every death can be attributed to age or illness.  I’ve been away long enough to understand that out here in the rest of Amirand, it’s different.  I’ve grown to accept that.”  His downcast eyes shone with regret.

Letting out a sigh, I stepped around the fire to sit next to Til’.  “My first day with the rock in my chest, Kait’ made me kill men who couldn’t fight back.  I also killed one of the men who attacked Jefren’s camp tonight, one who only attacked us because he was forced to.  It hurts so much to remember.  I should be devastated beyond belief.” 

I looked up at the brilliantly shining moon, its pale surface surrounded by a beatific aura.  “But I take solace in the fact that we’re fighting to make things better.”  Til’s eyes rose back to my face, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  “The whole ordeal with Jefren and Kait’ was unfortunate, but I’ve learned so much about we’re really fighting for.  No matter what Raijom’s involvement is in all this, we must fight to avenge those who have died or lost loved ones in Gualain.  We must fight to save the innocent people who have been enslaved. 

“Sacrifices will be made, Til’, but in the end, as long as we’re fighting for the greater good of Amirand, they will not be in vain.”  My blood pumped strongly with conviction as the words left my mouth.  No matter what the prophecy said, I would save my friends and then do whatever I could to put an end to the enslaving rocks and the undead in Gualain.  If that meant defeating Raijom to do so, then that would just be killing two eldrhims with one arrow.

Til’s smile broadened under his resolute eyes.  “You’re right, Korin, and I want to help as soon as I get Xalis home.  I promise I’ll come back to you guys.  Maybe Sal’ can give me something I can use to find you.  Do you think they have anything like that at the Wizard
Academy?  I bet they do.  Wizards can do almost anything, it seems.  Well, Max maybe.  Sal’, on the other hand . . .”

I laughed and enjoyed a little more conversation with Til’ before he finally fell asleep.  As I sat on my bedroll, unable to sleep despite my weariness, Briscott entered the light of the waning campfire.

“Blighted hell of a night, huh?” Briscott chuckled as he sat across from me on his bedroll. 

“I can’t argue with that,” I agreed. 

Briscott nodded towards a snoring Til’.  “Little guy must’ve been tuckered out.”

“I wish I could find sleep as easily right now.”  I let out a deep breath.  “Listen, Briscott, you’re more than welcome to stay with us, but you need to realize that what we saw tonight is just a sample of the danger we’ll be putting ourselves into.  Also, remember that we won’t be setting out immediately for Gualain.  I have to rescue my friends first.” 

“And I’ll be there to help you do it,” Briscott replied solemnly.

I figured that if Briscott was going to stick around, he deserved to know exactly what he was getting into.  I told him the truth about Max and Sal’.  I went on to explain all about Bhaliel and Xalis, stressing the necessity of keeping the information secret. 

“Ha!  Who would I tell?”  Briscott laughed.  “And I thought
my
life had been full of excitement.  But you . . . dragons coming out of the Snowy Waste, magic squirrels—that’ll be a sight—and the daughter of the Grand Wizard.  I don’t even know how to wrap my blighted head around all that.” 

Briscott’s mouth
tightened, his gaze serious.  “And yes, Korin, I understand the dangers and risks we may face.  I have no problem helping you save your friends, especially if they’ll be able to help take down this Raijom you’ve told me about.  Anything to help us make a positive difference in Gualain.”

“It’ll be good to have you,” I said.  It was the truth.  Briscott had been nothing but a friend since the night I’d met him.  Okay, he did try to shoot me with an arrow then.  I’m talking about after that, when we formally met.  We shared a smile and slipped into a brief silence.

I poked at the glowing logs of the campfire, trying to stoke the embers back to life.  “I just wish I knew what part Raijom was playing in all of this,” I spoke, my thoughts spilling from my heavy tongue.  “I don’t know if he’s working with Gualain’s king, controlling him, or pulling strings in some other capacity.  What do you know about Gualain’s king?”

“I don’t know much,” Briscott admitted, staring into the rekindled flames.  “What I do know is all based on hearsay, really.  Rumor spoke of the previous king, King Harken, dying many months back and the new king appearing suddenly in his place.  No one I knew had even heard of him before.  Apparently, the blighted man didn’t even have ties with the royal family.  The army still followed his orders, though, probably through the use of those blighted rocks, now that I think about it.  With an army calling him king, no one questioned his power. 

“Then, all this mess with the undead began.  Not only that, but his army supposedly more than doubled in size.  Not with undead, mind you, but with living troops, from what I hear.  And the thing is, they couldn’t have all been recruited using those blighted rocks.  If the army has truly doubled, there’d be too blighting many to have just been taken from Gualain’s population.  It’s all so strange.”

Thinking back to the Old Homestead in Laurlan, I recalled the drunken man mentioning a sudden increase in Gualain’s forces.  “What’s the new king’s name?” I asked, curious.

“Let me see . . . I heard it secondhand, after Jefren’s family had been . . . after everything started happening with those blighted rocks.  Gavel . . . Gavin . . .”

My heart stopped.  The world blurred around me.  My breathing quickened.  The blood drained from my face.  I felt cold.  Empty.  “Galvin,” I whispered.  “Galvin Lemweir.”

“That’s it,” Briscott answered.  “Are you okay?  You don’t look so good.”  Briscott quickly moved to my side as if ready to catch me if I fell unconscious.

The voice that had come from the smoky apparition earlier that night had been familiar.  Now I knew why.

“No, I’m not,” I replied, my voice hollow in my ears.  “Galvin Lemweir is my father.”

Chapter 19

Day 19

Day 19

As I sit here in my room, writing these last words in this journal, I now find myself hoping that Korin is on his way to the Academy.  That is the only way that Max and Xalis will have a chance of being rescued.  There’s no chance of me being able to do anything for them.  Not now. 

At the same time, I worry about Korin being apprehended and imprisoned, unable to track down Raijom or ever find his parents. 

Which brings me to the purpose of this last entry.
  I’ll be on my way to Gualain in the morning, and now may be the last chance I have to make a record of meeting with my father.  I don’t know what good it will do to have these words on paper, but I find myself feeling that they need to be written.  If I die in the coming weeks, if the war is lost, my father might see this journal, and realize his errors.  Maybe Korin will someday read this and know what happened to me and how I truly feel.

Also, given that I have no one else to talk to, I feel the need to get my feelings out about Saiyre.

I know that Saiyre truly loves me, even if our betrothal is purely pragmatic.  He
is
the most powerful wizard in Amirand aside from my father—and maybe Max—and will make a wonderful Grand Wizard after my father passes. 

Though the Grand Wizard title is generally passed down by means of lineage, my father knows that I’d never be readily accepted.  Saiyre, however, will be.  Our children will have a wonderful chance of becoming adept wizards.  They’ll be the means of keeping the Fellway blood in the Grand Wizard line.  Saiyre has already agreed to take the Fellway name upon our marriage to maintain its association as well. 

This has been planned since I was but a child who showed a weak aptitude for magic.  I’ve had plenty of time to come to accept it.  So why did I run away to chase a dragon?  For Rank?  I can’t fool myself that leaving the Academy was truly for that purpose anymore. 

I wish I could let Korin know how sorry I am for all of this.  I should‘ve let him know everything from the beginning.

I need to recount what occurred just this morning when I arrived at the Academy.  Though Boakler had said my father wouldn’t be able to make time for me, I was summoned to the Wizard Council Chamber within minutes of my arrival.

~~~~

The Wizard Council Chamber was just as I remembered it: cavernous, intimidating, and pretentious.  Rich tapestries lined the smooth, stone outer walls.  Gold inlays spiraled up the dozen marble columns spaced evenly around the back half of the circular room.  The ceiling loomed so far overhead that it betrayed the fact that the room had been constructed to inspire awe over being functional.  The stone of the ceiling was spelled to cast an illusion of the outside sky complete with clouds, the sun, and the occasional bird soaring overhead.  Skylights along the edges of the high ceiling illuminated the room and made the illusory sun appear to be casting its rays to the floor.

Curving around the front of the chamber, lines of marble benches served as seating for those who came to Council convenings.  At the front of the room, in the center of the semicircle of columns, sat the Wizard Council’s Seat—a crescent-shaped marble wall curving inwards at a slant with the sides sloping down to the red marble floor.  Idrolin’s sigil, a red hand surrounded by a white aura, was inlayed in the center of the wall.  My father’s lavish throne could be seen overtop the wall’s center, raised on a platform, though the seats of the six other Council members were too short to be seen—Grand Wizards have always tended to flaunt their status for all to see.

For the first time I could remember, the room was empty.  There were no Council members, scribes, petitioners, or even Academy students holed away to work on their studies.  My footsteps echoed as I approached the center of the room, where a large golden disc was embedded in the floor.  That disc—the Speaker’s Dais—rose when stood upon by anyone addressing the Council.  Once raised, the speaker’s voice could easily be heard by anyone in attendance, even if spoken in whispers.  I could see the glow of the spell that made it work surrounding it, a translucent white aura. 

Though my father had requested my presence in the chamber, he was nowhere in sight.  I looked down at the Speaker’s Dais, remembering how, as a child, I’d always wanted to stand upon it and speak to see what it felt like.  My father had never let me.  With no one around to see, I walked towards the Dais.  As I stepped into the center of the disc, it began to rotate.  The Dais lifted me as it turned, bringing me in a full circle before stopping with me facing the Wizard Council’s Seat.

I gave a covert glance around the room and, sure I was alone, whispered, “Hello.”  My voice carried through the room, rolling like the tide in all directions.  I couldn’t help but break into a childish grin.  Even with all of my worries, something about fulfilling this one childhood dream made me giddy. 

“Yes, I do accept the title of Grand Wizard,” I called more loudly, listening to my voice echo around the room.

“Is that so?” a familiar voice intoned behind me.  I turned to see my father step into the room, wearing his voluminous, gold-embroidered, Grand Wizard’s robe.  His graying hair framed his stern face, hanging limply to his shoulders.  His face, as always, was clean-shaven but aged beyond his years.  And, as always, he looked at me with the same disapproving scrutiny.

At least, I thought he did, but he suddenly rushed forward and all but leapt onto the Speaker’s Dais, embracing me tightly.  He kissed the top of my head forcefully and squeezed me even more firmly. 

After twenty-five years, I can still count the number of times my father has openly shown such emotion towards me on one hand with a finger or two to spare.  However, I don’t need any hands to count how many times he has actually vocalized that emotion.

He stepped back with his hands on my shoulders, gazing at me for just a moment with a father’s love.  Then, as quickly as he’d shown the rare display of emotion, he released one of my shoulders and gave me a sharp slap across my cheek.  From the Speaker’s Dais, the sound carried to the walls and reverberated to remind me of just one reason that I would never respect the man before me—Nehril Fellway, the Grand Wizard of Amirand.

My eyes stung with tears brought forth by both physical and emotional pain.  I debated just turning and running from the room—from the entire Academy—and never returning.  I knew how selfish that was, though, and squared my shoulders instead, holding myself up with the pride my mother had instilled in me. 

“What were you thinking, Salmaea?” my father rasped, tugging me off of the Speaker’s Dais.  As soon as our feet left the golden disc, it rotated downward to become flush with the marble floor once more.  “How do you think it makes me look when my daughter disappears without a word, leaving the rumor that she has left to chase a dragon in her wake?” 

He released my robe and put a hand to his forehead.  “And traveling with that
Holder
when you are betrothed to Saiyre . . . do you even care about the impression that places upon our family name?  I wish that Boakler would have brought both that wretch and the Kolarin in with that supposed magic squirrel.” 

“Father, they helped—”

My father cut me off with a wave of his hand.  “I care not what they did.  Tell me about this squirrel, this creature that supposedly used magic on my men.  I believe Boakler said you called him Max.”

“He is nothing more than a squirrel,” I lied, hoping it would help Max.  “He is Korin’s pet; that’s all.  Your wizards are just idiots.”

My father chuckled.  “So, Korin is the man’s name.  Salmaea, you have always been a horrible liar.  Whatever secrets that squirrel holds will be wrenched from him one way or another.”  His words sent a chill through my blood.  “Now, about your leaving to chase some rumor of a dragon—”

“Father, there
was
a dragon.  I saw it with my own eyes.  I spoke to it.  Those bastards you sent after me brought its child back with them.  There’s a hole in the barrier, Father.”  I put as much resolve into my voice as I could, keeping my eyes locked squarely on my father for whenever he deigned turning to meet them.

My father
spun, his gray eyes livid.  “You will watch your mouth in my presence,” he admonished, holding a finger in the air.  “Boakler sent word of the dragon many days ago, and the situation is currently under control.  Do you understand the difficulty in removing the dragon’s corpse and assuaging the concerns of those who had already spotted it?  You should have reported your discovery and left it to the Council and Wizard Guard to deal with.  What were you thinking going after that creature alone?”

My face heated with anger.  “You mean Bhaliel?  She was not just some ‘creature.’”

“Those
things
are nothing but a threat to humanity,” he countered.

“Bhaliel told me the truth, father,” I spat.  “Wizards made dragons out to be threats for the sheer
possibility
that they could take advantage of Amirand’s weakness during the Power Wars.  Are you going to tell me that the dragons being spelled to bear no more than a single child was justified because of the
theoretical
threat the dragons posed?  Are you going to tell me that the raids by wizards to decrease the dragons’ numbers, raids still performed to this day, are necessary?”  A twitch of my father’s eyebrows betrayed the truth in my words. 

My voice rose as I continued.  “They’re already contained behind the barrier, cut off from the world, all because wizards like you were worried that there was a power greater than their own.  We wouldn’t want anyone holding more power than us, now would we?”

Even before my father’s open palm struck me, I knew I’d gone too far.  As always when he gets in such a state, my mind went to my mother, Ilina.  He’d never been that way before her death. 

As the memory of my mother came to mind, I thought back to the day that Korin had first called me Sal’.  I’d told him that my aversion to the name was due to my parents having called me by it as a child.  That had been a lie to keep myself from feeling the pain I felt at the memory of my mother. 

The truth is, my mother had always lovingly called me Sal’.  Her love always seemed to balance my father’s constant silent disappointment and disapproval.  However, sickness that no magic or medicine could cure took her from me and disrupted that balance. 

What Korin viewed as an innocent nickname was a reminder of the one parent whose love wasn’t based on my abilities.  At first, Korin’s use of the name brought nothing but pain, but after a while, it became a source of comfort—a reminder of my mother’s love.

My mother had been unable to conceive again after my birth, sticking my father with a daughter unfit to carry on the Grand Wizard title.  Hence his treatment of me.  I do hold a small shred of respect for my father, however, in that he always remained faithful to my mother and never considered taking another wife after her death. 

“As your father, I am to be shown respect,” he snarled, snapping me from my reverie.

With a glare, I brought my eyes to his once again.  “You think you know everything, don’t you?  Did you know that the wizard who is causing all the trouble in Gualain is named Raijom Weist, and his apprentice, Prexwin Imos, has been summoning eldrhims?”

I expected shock. 
Surprise.  Fear.  Instead, he laughed.  “You do not truly expect me to believe that,” he replied as his laughter died, the anger returning to his face.  “Eldrhims are nothing more than storybook creatures.  We have intelligence that Gualain’s new king, Galvin Lemweir, is behind this war.”

Something about the name Lemweir struck me as familiar, but I’m not sure why.  I just knew that Menar had told Max that Raijom was involved in the war.  Maybe Galvin and Raijom were working together.  “Father, trust me, Raijom
is
involved and—”

“Silence,” he barked, holding up his hand.  “I have the most up-to-date intelligence on the matter.  This Galvin is able to resurrect and control the dead using magic-infused gems of an unknown nature.  He is using these same gems to enslave the living in order to build his army.  They will be advancing soon in an attempt to expand Gualain’s borders.  I have declared wizard assistance in this matter.  I will be deploying the entire Wizard Guard reserve to Gualain to put an end to Galvin and the dark magic he wields.”

For a moment, I was struck speechless.  Before my father’s declaration, wizards hadn’t been officially sanctioned to participate in a war for nearly a thousand years. 

Granted, the Wizard Guard, a force of wizards trained in magic combat, was created in response to the devastating Power Wars and has since been maintained purely for the possibility of magic-based warfare.  During the thousand years of relative peace in Amirand, they have simply acted as a policing force at the Academy and the city of Auslin around it.  There are nearly two thousand Ranked wizards in the Wizard Guard.

Almost as distressing as wizards entering the war were my father’s words about Galvin’s ability to not only resurrect the dead, but also control them.  As I stood there silently, fear coursed through me at the very thought of the walking dead being controlled.  My worry for the living being enslaved paled in comparison.