Trail of Bones: A Young Adult Fantasy Novel (9 page)

The Storm Elf’s throat felt scratchy and his palms were clammy. Standing before the King of Cordale sounded like a great idea when he was many jaunts away in the safety and anonymity of the Mythik Forest. The reality of his grand plan was starting to set in, and his internal battle against his doubts and insecurities was nearly crippling.

“His grace, Gundir, King of Cordale, will see you now… Elf,” said one of the castle servants, dressed in a long and plain wool tunic.

“I’m a Storm Elf from Eastern Ohsmar,” Korwin corrected, almost out of habit.

“Pardon?” asked the servant, not bothering to turn around.

Korwin got the message. He was a nobody on Ohsmar, and until he proved otherwise, he was a nobody on Illyia, too.
It’s now or never, Korwin. Make it count,
he thought.

“Please, lead on,” he said as he cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

The castle servant approached two ornate and thick wooden doors. A story of sorts had been carved into them, each panel retelling a significant event in the Cordale family history. An epic battle was depicted on one, the construction of the castle on another, followed by a speech of some significance, and finally a man wrestling a bear.

When I’m king, this will be the first thing to go,
he thought as he watched the guards open the doors.

The throne room at Castle Cordale was far larger than Korwin had expected. Each step echoed like horses galloping through a mountainous pass. Large, silver and crimson banners hung from the ceiling and cascaded down until they almost touched the floor. Stained glass windows lined near the top of the walls were illuminated in an array of colors. Rows of onlookers, nobles, and other citizens of importance, filled the chamber leaving a path down the middle for Korwin to approach.

Up a long series of broad, stone steps, adorned with black and gold cloth runners, sat King Gundir Cordale atop his gold plated throne. Korwin had never seen him before and had no idea what to expect. Gundir was average height and build for a human in his mid-forties. His face, however, made him look much older than his years would indicate.

The ruler’s face was lined with deep wrinkles, as if his forehead and cheeks had been chiseled from a hard stone. His nose was long and pointed, as was his chin. A thin black chinstrap beard was trimmed neatly and his shoulder-length hair was styled and pulled back behind his ears to showcase his golden, bejeweled crown. But it was the king’s eyes, which bothered Korwin the most. They were small, beady, and dark more like a devious rodent than the ruler of a kingdom. The king’s eyes and the look in them reminded the elf… of himself.

“That’s close enough,” barked a guard as he lowered his spear, preventing Korwin from proceeding any farther.

Korwin halted and gave his best royal bow. “Great King, I am Korwin Widestep, a humble Storm Elf from Eastern Ohsmar,” he said as he stood to address the king properly.

Gundir did not respond; he simply stared with his beady eyes down at the visitor. He shifted in his throne, most of his weight on one side as he leaned against the right portion of his large seat.

“I thank you for so graciously granting me an audience on this fine and glorious day…” Korwin began, but was interrupted before completing his sentence.

“An elf? On Illyia? How did you gain passage to my realm? Any such request requires my approval, and I do not recall hearing your name?” asked Gundir as he squinted at Korwin.

The elf gulped, thinking quickly. He had been so focused on his magic, he had not considered explaining how he had arrived on Illyia in the first place. He cleared his throat.

“Your majesty, I have been on Illyia for some time. I accompanied Headmaster Zed from the Ohsmar Academy of Magic. During his last visit to your kingdom I humbly requested to tarry a while longer to study some of the creatures on your amazing world. I was under the impression such approvals had long been granted,” he said as he gave another deep bow.

The king’s wrinkled brow furrowed. He grumbled a few words to an attendant but Korwin could not make out the words.

“Very well. What is it you wish to show me?” the king asked as he redirected his stare back to the Storm Elf.

Korwin relaxed a little. “Of course, your majesty.” He removed his backpack, and pulled out few items: a scroll, an amulet, and other trinkets.

“Surely a kingdom as grand as yours has enemies, those wishing to seize such splendor for themselves. And mighty King, while your walls are strong, may I inquire, how can you defend your people against magic like this?” The elf waved his arms and released a cloud of ash and powder. He whispered a few words in his native tongue, and the mist materialized into a large bird of prey.

The crowd ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ at the sight of the magical being. The king, however, gave no reaction whatsoever. He just blankly watched.

The raptor of smoke and ash let out a loud shriek as it spread its wispy wings and soared around the room. It swooped down and buzzed the crowd. Women screamed, a few guards stood at the ready, and two monks ducked for cover and dashed toward the exits. Still, the king did nothing.

The bird circled at the top of the room until Korwin whispered more elfin words. The creature shrieked again and flew directly into one of the stained glass windows but instead of breaking through it, the bird exploded, returning to ash and powder. As it showered harmlessly on the crowd below, it started to glow a brilliant yellow-gold.

More ooh’s and ahh’s rose from the crowd as they reached up and caught the falling, glowing dust.

It was a pleasant sight watching most of the audience in the throne room look up in wonder. It was such a simple trick.
Back on Ohsmar, elves would use this to stop a crying child. Look! It has the same effect here, but on adult humans. They are so easily distracted,
he thought with satisfaction, until he looked up at the king. Gundir’ expressionless face instantly caught the elf’s attention. The ruler was not impressed.
Very well, let’s see how you handle this, ‘great’ king.

Korwin turned his back to the king, unfurled a parchment scroll and uttered more elfin words. The paper dissolved in his hands until it morphed into two magical, flaming spheres. The elf turned back and received another round of exclamations and cheers from the crowd. He tossed the balls into the air, and started to juggle them in a dizzying pattern of light and flame. Though the flames seemed to engulf his bare hands each time he caught a sphere, it was obvious they were not doing him any harm, nor were they lighting his clothes on fire.

Gundir sat up in his throne, but said nothing. He watched intently, but the expression or lack thereof, remained the same.

“Ladies and gentlemen behold the great symbol of Cordale!” Korwin exclaimed as he caught both spheres, crouched down and rolled them along the throne room floor.

The burning globes left a trail of burning liquid. They turned, spun, and crossed in front and in back of each other. The balls moved as if guided by the hands of an invisible artist, gliding along the stone floor until the last of the image was created in flames. Burning before Korwin was a large, flaming, symbol of two fists - an exact recreation of the kingdom’s sigil.

Once the crowd recognized the image they broke out into applause.

“Well done,” an onlooker shouted.

“Truly remarkable,” added a castle attendant.

“Amazing!” said a woman as she smiled in approval.

The wizard basked in the compliments of the eager crowd. He gave a deep bow which drew more applause from the audience. He could see on their faces how much they enjoyed his magical presentation. This was exactly how he imagined he would be received on Illyia. Though magic was commonplace amongst his race, this kind of demonstration should instantly catapult him to the top of the humans’ social circles.

Then as if an order had been given, the room fell silent. Gasps and shrieks replaced the cheers and applause as the King of Cordale stood and descended the stairs, and walked through the symbol of flames. His silver-trimmed crimson cloak, drug the floor and brushed through the fire, but like Korwin’s hands, it did not ignite or cause the King any harm. There was not even the slightest scorch or singe marks on his boots or clothing.

As Gundir approached, Korwin clapped his hands together in one swift stroke. As the sound reverberated throughout the chamber, the flames disappeared like candles on a birthday cake, blown out with one strong breath. If the elf had but one wish to make, it was that his display had finally pleased the ruler of the kingdom.

“Is that it?” belted the king as he approached Korwin. “A bird of smoke, a show of fire?”

Korwin retreated a few steps, taken aback by the king’s unexpected challenge.

“You demand an audience with the king… and waste my moments with throne-room games no more impressive than a court jester?

“Scrolls, amulets, potions. You are no wizard! This may work on barbarians of the Northlands, but I assure you, foolish Elf, they will gain you no favor in my realm!” he thundered.

The elf had to act fast. If he was going to salvage any leverage with the king, or receive permission to travel Southern Illyia in search of the beasts he needed for the incantation he needed to impress the ruler… and impress him right now!

“Wait…wait, I’ve saved the best and most powerful magic for last!” Korwin rummaged through his backpack. “One moment, please,” he begged as he retrieved a scroll.

He needed something dramatic, yet substantial, and something he was capable of performing with his limited magical skills. His mind shot back to the images he had seen carved into the wooden doors.

“Yal eh ohna!” shouted Korwin. The scroll in his hand crumbled to dust and scattered at his feet. A moment later the dust reformed and materialized into a massive, golden brown grizzly bear. The creature reared up, standing nearly five paces tall. It let out a coarse growl as it flailed its giant front paws.

The crowd screamed as they fled for the exits. Sentinels escorted some of the more important members of the group away from the creature, as other guards formed a semi-circle near the bear, their spears ready to strike.

“Have no fear! This terrible beast is under my command. I alone can stay his attack,” shouted Korwin as he tried to settle the crowd and regain their attention.

King Gundir stood, folding his arms in defiance as he looked at the grizzly, standing within arm’s reach. It roared again, blasting a fearsome warning directly at the sovereign.

“Hold your ground!” shouted Gundir.

“This is no real beast. I know this spell. Master Zed demonstrated this not two seasons ago. A simple illusion and nothing more. A trick his youngest learners conjure in just a few lessons,” said the king as he reached up and grabbed the throat of the bear. He squeezed and the bear squirmed at first, feigning pain from his strong grip. After a moment the illusion faded and vanished. “But you would know that if you were part of his company, as you claim to be.”

The Storm Elf shoved his remaining items back into his pack as he retreated. “I can explain. You see…”

“You’re nothing more than an imposter. A pretender. A thief with stolen scrolls and potions,” said Gundir as he pursued Korwin. His platoon of armed guards followed.

“How dare you! Try to deceive me, will you? I’ll have you in chains! Guards, seize him at once!”

Korwin stumbled backward, falling to his rump as the once supportive crowd laughed and jeered.

“Fool!” they shouted.

“Trickster!” they yelled.

“Fraud! Fake! Beguiler! Catch him, catch him! Let him rot in the dungeon!”

“No, throw him into the sea and be done with him!”

Gundir looked down on the Storm Elf as the royal guards circled the fallen wizard, pointing their spears at Korwin.

The wizard looked up, his expression changing from fear to anger. “Do not mock me! Careful, mighty king, one day you will want this moment back. You’ll wish you had me at your side, instead of at your throat!”

Gundir laughed.

“He threatens the king!” yelled a guard before lunging in with his spear. But before the point could pierce the elf, a flash of light and a cloud of smoke puffed. As the haze receded, a light-brown and white owl fluttered away. The elf, however, was gone.

Gundir was finally impressed, but only for an instant. “Hurry, catch him! Don’t let him get away. Where are my archers?”

The owl circled then weaved between the stone and timber rafters of the throne room. Several guards notched arrows and released their projectiles. Arrows whizzed by the owl, but the bird dodged and angled to narrowly avoid the onslaught.

“There he is!” shouted the king as he pointed above the throne. No sooner had he spotted the owl when it let loose a pile of white waste, splattering the golden throne below.

“Kill him!” he ordered.

Several more arrows sped toward the owl. One projectile clipped the bird’s tail, sending a spray of feathers through the air. The panicked creature circled higher, its head twisting to identify an exit. With none in sight, it tucked its wings back and shot through one of the stained glass windows.

Red, orange and white colored glass shattered to the chamber floor. Spectators shielded their faces from the shards as sunlight burst through the new opening. Arrows shot through the panes, but the bird was gone.

Gundir, King of Cordale, fumed as he stomped up the stairs of the dais to examine his befouled throne.

“Find him! How, I do not care! Alive or dead matters not! I will send him back to Ohsmar in a pouch if I must. I swear it!” he barked as guards ran from the room.

Outside the city walls, an owl struggled to maintain altitude. Soon the bird’s strength failed, and the owl fluttered to the forest floor. As its talons hit the ground it tumbled into a ball, with feathers flying. In the middle of the dust and debris emerged Korwin, rumbling head over heels until he smacked into a nearby tree with a groan.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the blue sky peeking between the tops of the trees. The elf looked at his leg and spotted a nasty gash oozing blood. He coughed and wheezed as he caught his breath, twigs and sticks ensnared in his frazzled hair.