Wizard's War

Chapter 2-2

Coil’s eyes opened wide. “It’s body was three times as long as mine. The wings went on forever. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Something I may never see again.” He shook his head, as if disappointed. “But, my grandmother once told me of a dagger. It sounded a little like the one we found under the mountains. She said the hunters used magic—nothing like you have, kid—but they’d mix herbs, and oils, and blood, and then call out to the dragons. When one responded, they’d pounce.”

“They didn’t kill the dragons did they?” Mykal placed a hand over his stomach. He didn’t feel well. He didn’t care for the story, but he had to know what happened next.

Coil pursed his lips, pressed them so tight they were little more than a single thin line, and then he shrugged, and said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice: “A lot of coin to be made from all the different parts of a dragon. But Magic used for something evil, like the slaughter of innocent creatures angers me.”

Mykal let the story sink in. Somehow those animals needed justice. They needed protection from a vile band of hunters. If he ever encountered any of these men…

He left the threat unfinished. For now.

Coil looked around, over each shoulder. He sat the chair up on four legs. “Whe-where are the ladies?”

Mykal looked down at his plate of food. His hands cupped the full stein of ale.

“We were ambushed when we emerged from the catacombs under Castle Deed,” Blodwyn related.

They had been outnumbered. Caught off guard, they didn’t stand a chance. King Cordillera came armed not just with his armed knights, but with a decrepit-looking sorcerer of his own. The king had Galatia gagged and bound. He knew she needed her words to work her magic. The only reason Cordillera didn’t take Mykal was because he thought the boy was dead.

“In the Constantine Realm?” Coil said. “By whom? The place is deserted. Nothing there anymore but vines climbing what’s left of the fortress walls. And ghosts. Talk about rumors, and stories. But I know a guy who knew this guy who was dared to spend the night inside that old castle. A crazy and senseless bet. By dusk, just four hours later, the fella came running out of there. Went in with hair as black as a raven’s wings. When he fled, his head was as white as snow. He ran wild with arms flailing in the air; his eyes crazy. Spoke nothing but gibberish from that day on. Never met him, but the one that told me, I trust his word as if I’d witnessed the haunting with my own two eyes.

“Wait. Was it ghosts that ambushed you?”

Blodwyn stood up. His staff had been resting against the side of the table. He held it in his left hand. “It was the Mountain King that attacked us. He, and a small army. They were waiting for us. They knew exactly where and when we’d be. We never saw it coming.”

“I’m afraid to ask. Please tell me the women are all right?” Coil was just like Mykal. He didn’t like the story. He didn’t want to hear another word, but he had to know what happened next.

Quill stood up fast. The legs of his chair scraped on the floor. The sound was hollow inside the tavern.

Coil looked at Mykal. “Are they?” he said, but shook his head as if he didn’t want to hear the truth, as if he already knew the answer. It was almost as if not saying the words was magic, and nothing bad could have happened.

“Karyn died saving my life.” Mykal knew a little something about magic. The words needed saying. Coil deserved the truth, like it or not. “And King Cordillera kidnapped Galatia and stole the talismans we’d collected.”

Mykal felt the pain his words carried. He pushed away from the table, stood up, and walked around Blodwyn and Quill and out of the tavern. That was the first time he’d had to say any of that out loud.

It hadn’t been easy.

What little sunlight was left did not warm his bones. The thick gravy from the pie felt as if it would now pass right through him. The heat from the pie that burned his mouth was gone. The wind rushed down the mountain and spun violently through the center of town. The tears on his cheek turned cold fast, and he wiped them away with his forearm before the others joined him on the road.

He thought he understood why Quill hid his emotions earlier. He was embarrassed and ashamed. Crying about the loss, about Galatia, wouldn’t solve anything. It was useless.

Blodwyn broke into his thoughts. “Are you okay?”

Mykal hadn’t even heard Blodwyn, or anyone for that matter, leave the tavern. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. None of us are. We can’t pretend. Not with each other.” Blodwyn leaned his weight on his staff. Mykal smelled ale and meat on the man’s breath. “Not with me. You understand?”

Mykal thought he might vomit. The inside of his body was in complete turmoil. “I understand.”

“Or with me.” Quill snuck up, and stood beside them. “We’re family. All three of us.”

This time Mykal heard the tavern door open.

“I never should have left,” Coil said, sorrowfully.

They all turned around.

Coil was blameless in this mess. Mykal didn’t think the outcome would have been any different if Coil had been there with them.

“Are you planning on rescuing Galatia? Of course you are. I want to help.” Coil thumbed a thumb against his chest. “I want to join you. I want to put a stop to the Mountain King.” He then shook a fist in the air. His large biceps flexed like a boulder seated on his arm.

“What about mining come morning?” Quill asked. “Our journey is not something we’ll accomplish in a day or two. And the dangers we encounter promise to be worse than what we faced in the caves. You are not at fault, brother. Not one of us blames you for turning back when you did. It’s exactly like you said. You were hired to do one thing, and you did it.”

Coil considered Quill’s words with his lips pressed tight. “There is a war coming. I heard you talk of it more than once.” Coil folded his arms across his chest. “The Mountain King stole that woman. That’s not right. I’ve talked with Copper since my return. I understand the threat we all face if Cordillera isn’t stopped. This place, this town, it might not be much, but it is home. Our home. We’re good people here. We work hard. We also take care of one another. There are families here. I know all of the children by name. I was going to marry once. She was a small thing. I know. Compared to me most women are small things, but she liked me fine enough, and I saw us starting a family of our own. Curers couldn’t help her. They told me the illness was in her blood. We bled her, and filled her veins with my blood several times. It helped for a time. She couldn’t eat, and kept losing weight—weight she couldn’t afford to drop—and then finally the sickness took her from me.”

Mykal for the first time saw vulnerability in the large man; he saw a human side. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. “What was her name?”

Coil nodded. “I thank you for that. Her name was Jace.” He let out a long, deep sigh. “Look, the reason I’m telling you this is because after she passed away, this town made me part of their family. They fed me. They drank with me. They cried with me. Aside from my Jace, I’ve never had anyone in my life that cared about me until then. I want to come with you. I want to save Galatia, and stop the Mountain King. I want to make sure his evil never reaches these shores that his harmful intent never touches this pass or my family.”

Mykal could not take his eyes off Coil. “I would be honored to have you join us.”

Coil’s somber look faded, and what could possibly be described as a smile replaced it. The man looked menacing always. Mykal couldn’t fault him for his appearance. “We will ride for the Cicade Forest as soon as the horses are ready.”

Coil said with a grin, “The forest. Man, you guys love your ghosts, don’t you?”

Riding Babe, Mykal felt free. Galloping, the wind rushed his face, and passed through his hair. With Ironwall Pass behind them, and miles to go until they reached the Cicade Forest, Mykal locked away as much as he could into the back of his mind. Pure adrenaline raced through him, his feet inside the stirrups pulsed; his hand wrapped with the reins tingled. The sky, with a litter of cloud clusters was smeared with color from azure to amethyst, coral to crimson.

Blodwyn rode beside Mykal on Applejack. The stallion seemed to smile, despite the bit between his teeth, maybe enjoying the fact a rider was on his back, or because he was out of the stable and running with his family. Blodwyn held his staff with one hand, and the reins with the other. His long hair and cloak flapped in the wind behind him.

Quill used his and Anthony’s horses for carrying supplies Blodwyn purchased, and rode on Karyn’s horse, Defiance. The mare responded to Quill’s voice and the squeeze of his thigh muscles, as if the two had been paired together since she was of age to hold a rider.

Jiminey did not seem thrilled about giving Coil a ride. The man was big, heavy, and inexperienced. The gelding tested his rider’s patience whenever a chance presented itself, kicking, snorting, dropping his head, and randomly stopping. It was fun watching at first. Once they got going, though, it was like Jiminey understood that playtime ended. He stopped harassing Coil; however, it seemed likely the damage was done. Coil rode with one rein in each hand, and his arms above and away from the saddle horn. He didn’t trust Jiminey, and looked half-ready to bail if necessary.

They planned on riding through the night confident that they’d reach the Cicade before dawn. Although it was nothing like it had been up in the Zenith Mountains, there was a definite chill in the air. The temperatures felt more like early winter instead of early autumn. Mykal knew this was not a good sign. There was no avoiding the snow, but having it arrive six weeks early would make the quest much more challenging.

Mykal knew his eyelids grew heavier each mile they traveled. The simple joy of riding faded. The steady fall of horse hoofs on dry ground became rhythmic and almost hypnotic. The scenery didn’t change. White moonlight cast a glow across the open land, tall grass, and weeds. There was no stopping. Mykal had no idea how much time remained. King Hermon Cordillera had Galatia, and the talismans. With her powers stifled, how long before he forced her to obey his will and summon the other wizards? If they came to her call, they would be walking into the Mountain King’s trap.

These were the things he’d put away in the back of his mind. Tired, everything slipped out from under lock and key and saturated his thoughts. He closed his eyes against images flashing behind his eyes. He saw Galatia beaten and bruised, bloody and broken. He could hear her screams. They filled his ears as if she were being tortured right beside him.

He opened his eyes, and yelled, “We must reach the forest tonight!”

He urged Babe faster, riding her hard. His heels kicked her side. She responded. The mare must have been tired, too. She had been kept at a gallop for a long time. He didn’t want to slow down though. He wouldn’t suggest taking a rest, even if they could all benefit from a break. There was no time for sleep. He could not imagine sleeping soundly until Galatia was freed.

The responsibility was his. He wasn’t sure if the others expected his leadership for guidance, or not. He knew he looked to them for support, and strength. Regardless, he was not going to let them down, or let the Mountain King win a war.

He would rescue Galatia, and with any luck at all life might finally go back to normal.