The Elementalist : Next of Kin: The Kothian Chronicles (23 page)

The queen mother then decided to make an appearance from the other room, obviously having been updated by her young daughter. "What is going on in here...?" she shouted sounding confused and disorientated from the drugs given to sedate her. Anden told her there was nothing for her to worry about, and quickly escorted both her and his sister back where they had come from.

The prisoner was kept incapacitated inside a barrier of magical energy, and although he clearly wriggled and writhed, he could do nothing to escape it. "He is trying to teleport out of it," the Icenian said with a smile, "But he will not break through." Ramon enquired whether the prisoner would be able to answer questions through the barrier, and after a little adjustment, the Icenian gestured for him to do so.

Ramon circled around the man several times, asking who had sent him, where had he come from, did he have any other targets, were there others? Although able to reply if he wished, the prisoner remained silent, with the only response being, him spitting Ramon's direction. "You know you will be put to death?" he finally reminded the prisoner. "You will kill me if I talk or if I don't...So I will tell you nothing you Kothian scum," the prisoner eventually spat in reply.

Realising there was no point in continuing, he sent for Darion. He was going to ask the Icenian keeping him captive to do the killing, but had then realised just how unfair that would have been, and decided his old friend would have no qualms about doing such a thing.

Chapter 28.

Maxim was unsure as to why they needed to stay in Icenia any longer. He had gotten the decision he needed and was keen to return home with the news that his father's countrymen were indeed going to assist them in their plight. However, since having made the agreement with the other high lords, his father appeared to be making excuses as to why they could not return just yet, saying he had matters that needed resolving before he could leave again.

Although Maxim was slightly annoyed that the time of departure seemed to be put back day by day, he also understood that as a high lord, his father naturally would have issues to deal with. This was precisely one of the reasons he had figured he would never make a good leader; the thought of dealing with so many problems did not bare thinking about. Telling his father he was not keen on ever taking over from him had been a hard thing to do, but Maxim felt his father needed to know now, rather than ever give him the impression to the contrary.

Maxim sat out in the afternoon sunshine, letting his pale body soak up the warmth of the sun's rays. Despite wanting to be on his way, he had to admit that doing so was quite relaxing and enjoyable, and made a pleasant change from the cold Kothia winter weather. Although his father had made the effort to see him when possible, it was clear the man had much more important matters to attend. As a result, Maxim had largely been left to his own devices, and left to fend for himself against the mischief making twins, Kala and Willem.

As he lay back on a sun lounging chair, with his eyes closed and mind completely relaxed, he picked up the pair moving closer to him. He wasn't sure whether they were actually aware he could detect them coming or not, but afforded himself a smile as he could sense them creeping closer to his position. Although they were his cousins, and therefore members of the increasingly growing family line he had never known existed, the pair were certainly very annoying. So far, during his stay they had attempted to go out of their way to make his life miserable by playing childish pranks upon him. Fortunately, Maxim was not one to take things too seriously, and despite the twins having soaked him with water on two occasions and tripping him over once, he was ready for them this time.

The twins moved closer, and Maxim could sense the presence of water, meaning he thought, that they were once more trying to give him a soaking whilst he relaxed in the sun. He remained in his slumber like position, pretending to be unaware anything was about to happen, letting Kala and Willem get close enough to tip the water they were carrying over him. What they could not know was he was already prepared for them.

Knowing his timing needed to be precise, he concentrated, utilising some of his newfound skills. The twin's childish giggles turned to shock and horror as he sat up and waved his hand. The water meant for him, surged upwards, before pouring down over the pair of them. Maxim grinned, and although he also got some of the water splashed over him, the best part of it went over the heads of the twins. Much to their disgust, the pair stormed off, each cursing the other that they must have been too loud and he had heard them.

He watched them round the corner, and stood himself up to go and dry off. He was about to turn and head to his room, when he noticed his father walking across the garden towards him, and decided instead to wait for him. "Max...I have some good news for you," the man said with a smile as he neared. "Has it been raining?" he added noticing his son was a little wet. Maxim smiled, "No, just the twins," he replied. His father just shook his head, "That pair will get their comeuppance," he said. Maxim grinned, "I think they just did."

Joren suggested his son walk with him whilst they talked, and the pair headed indoors. "We can leave tomorrow Max," he told his son, much to the young man's delight. "I just need to have some things moved to the ship later this evening, and by first light tomorrow we can be on our way."

"Are we just taking the one ship?" Maxim asked not sure how many men the other high lords had permitted them.

Maxim looked at his father awaiting an answer, "Eight," came the reply.

"Eight?" he asked to make sure he had heard correctly. His father nodded, "That's right. Taking into account the number of crew and those used to power the ships, we would look to be taking about five hundred ashore with us." Maxim stood there gobsmacked, "You don't think that is a little more than we need?" he asked.

"Well, one thing you need to know about Icenians Max, is that we do not do things in half measures. The high lords want this dealt with quickly and efficiently, and having so many will allow us to do just that."

With a spring in his step, Maxim returned to his room to pack the few items he had acquired whilst in Icenia, and although one day he thought he would like to return to explore the place a little further, he was keen to get back to his friends. Being with his father was nice, and considering the short time they had known each other, were getting on very well. Not having Mikel, Melia and especially Zack around had been much harder than he had thought when leaving, now if all went to plan, he should be reunited with them within a week.

Down by the docks, Joren was inspecting the ships, ensuring enough supplies were loaded on, and the crews knew exactly where it was they were going, and more importantly how quickly they needed to get there. The small army of magicians collated by the High Lords had certainly caused a stir in the city. Nothing like this had been seen in centuries, and after they had aided his son, hoped it would not be seen for many more. Joren had over all control of the task force being sent, and although those going could be briefed on route to Kothia, he needed to explain the plan of action to the officers on the various ships, to enable them to do so.

In a small but well lit office, Joren had earlier confirmed with Maxim, which Kothian towns and cities had been taken by the Bosarian invaders. Now with a large map placed out on a table, he explained to his officers where each force would go. With the main target being Berxsley, the nation's capital, he would oversee that part of the plan. The force would not be needed all in one place, and Joren was certain those going could deal with anything the enemy could throw at them. "Their magical powers have suffered though years of culling," he told them, "Hence, many of them are little more than conjurors."

He looked around at the men leading his forces, and forewarned them all, that just because they were magically superior did not mean the enemy would merely roll over. An Icenian who did not take care, could just as easily be killed by an arrow or blade as any other man could, he told them sternly hoping to get the message home. Ideally, he wanted the plan to go without any casualties on his side. "What about killing the enemy?" One of his men asked. Joren grimaced, this was going to be a sore point for many, and was unsure how to handle it.

Icenians were permitted to act in self-defence, and if they killed somebody in doing so then so be it. This however was something quite different, where they were to remove an invading force from a new ally territory. "I would prefer not to have to make our people killers, however if those we seek to remove resist, then they must do what is needed," he told them.

Once the enemy had been removed from Kothia, a small force was to remain in each town or city they retook, whilst the others were then to move to return back to the ships. Two ships would remain for those remaining, which would have to stay a little while longer to enable the Kothians to reorganise themselves. "We do not want to drive the enemy out, for them to return as soon as we turn our backs," Joren told them.

After his meeting was over, the High Lord wandered slowly back up the main street towards his home. The lights illuminating the street gave off a low glow as he stopped just briefly to look back up the road. He breathed in the mild night air turning his gaze up to the night sky, before continuing his short journey back towards the elegant palace he called home. He thought it was probably time he retired for the night, and to get some rest before a big day ahead tomorrow.

Davan was relaxing in one of the opulent living rooms in the east wing of the Palace in Berxsley. As he lay there, sipping from a crystal glass he wondered as to why one family would need so much space. His pondering however was disrupted by a knock at the door, and a guardsman breathing heavily with an important message. Despite being interrupted at such a late hour, Davan remained calm and listened, although the news was not particularly pleasing.

He stood and followed the man delivering the message down the corridor, before heading down the elegant staircase towards the front entrance. After pulling on a cloak and wrapping it tightly around him, he ventured outside. Several soldiers were stood around two shapes on the ground, and he could sense his anger rising as he approached. "Sir," one of the men said noticing him approach, "Two of our soldiers were found at their posts, both have had their throats slit," the man added.

Davan leaned down and lifted the cover that had been placed over one of the corpses just to have a quick look, more so for curiosity's sake than any other reason. Any thought that these Kothians were going to just accept that they had been beaten and continue as normal, was soon forgotten. Because of this, he would now have to punish the people, and to do it severely so such an incident would not happen again. "Double all patrols around the city," Davan ordered, "As from now any person found out after dark will be arrested and flogged."

The soldier was just about to run off and have Davan's orders relayed, before he was told to stay, "I have not finished yet," Davan snapped. The man apologised, and listened further, "At first light, you will select five homes at random. All those within will be taken to the market square and beheaded. Make sure the people know why we are doing it," He added before heading back inside.

This incident had certainly dampened Davan's mood, and he knew he had his hands full trying to keep the residents of Berxsley subdued. In time he thought, they would accept their new leaders, he just needed to crush any signs of resistance quickly, punishing those that questioned Bosarian rule so severely others would not be inclined to follow.

Chapter 29.

Maxim stared out into the distance, as the land he called home came into view. He felt a strange kind of nervousness about what they would soon be undertaking, and although he had fought in battles before, he was unsure as to what to expect this time. On previous occasions, he had been the one expected to make a difference in the outcome of any fighting, this time however, he was to held back. Despite wanting to be part of the force his father was commanding in retaking Berxsley, he had been told to the contrary. Maxim had naturally pleaded his case, stating he was Kothian and should at least be flying the flag on their behalf. Naturally, his father was having none of it, and reminded his son that it was perhaps left to those wielding the greater power.

It was still early morning, meaning they would be able to disembark and move to their targets today. He was permitted to follow a little later with the crates of supplies, and whatever else his father had deemed necessary for their stay; whatever it was, there was certainly a lot of it. He watched as the ships neared the shoreline, unaffected by the turbulent waves that were crashing about them. He looked over to the other ships and noticed the men upon the decks preparing for their disembarkation; the time for battle would soon be upon them.

Still several hundred yards from the coastline all the ships came to sudden halt, as the first Icenians started lining up on the Kothian shore. Maxim, although capable of teleporting, was unsure whether he was yet good enough to make such a sizeable jump unaided, and had to wait patiently until his father was eventually ready to go. Once back on dry land, Maxim watched the Icenians making their base camp. A mountain of wooden crates, which he assumed contained all the supplies such a large force would need.

As the mass of red-robed figures lined up in ranks, Maxim could not fail to be impressed by the sight, so much so, he had even donned the same garment as them, when he had dressed that morning. After an hour of jumping back and forth from the land to their ships, eventually everything they needed was ready for them to begin. After another quick briefing with his officers, Joren returned to his son's side, "Please remain here with the supplies and reserves, I will come and get you as soon as Berxsley is under our control," he told him. Although Maxim was clearly not happy about being left behind with the luggage, he nodded his understanding, "Take care Father," he said, deciding it was one of those occasions that warranted giving him a hug.

Maxim was left to watch on as the large Icenian force divided itself into the predefined sections. Some of the smaller groups having to travel to the towns and villages to the east of Kothia, whilst his father waited until near the end before leading his larger force to retake the prize of Berxsley. The smallest party of two however, had the furthest to travel, as they had been given the task of going to Pitford. Joren had written several missives, explaining what his intentions were, and all being well, would be returning there himself with Kothia once more a free nation.

With Joren and his group making the shortest trip, it was not long before he and his force were lining up just a half-mile or so away from the capital city. Their presence there had not gone unnoticed, and Joren could already hear the bells inside the city walls ringing, probably calling all the soldiers to arms. He had hoped to make their sudden appearance well noticed, as he hoped at least that way, most of the enemy would be where he wanted them; out in the open.

Davan was sat still eating his breakfast when he heard the warning of the city bells, just as a messenger came running into the room he was using. "Sir, a large number of strangers, all wearing robes, are lining up just a short way from the city walls." Davan swallowed the food he was eating, a little confused, "And not soldiers?" he asked. The man shook his head, "No Sir, but by the way they are stood in rank they would appear to be...just not dressed the same." Davan scratched at the side of his face, deep in thought. Puzzled as to just who these people were or what they wanted, he decided it best to look for himself.

After wrapping up warm, he ordered the bells to be stopped, "I think we know they are there," he snapped to one of the guards on duty, "We don't need to deafen everybody in the process," he added. Deciding it was easier to look from the roof of the Palace than to venture out to the outer wall, he could indeed see the army of robed figures stood in perfect lines a short way off. They were unlike anything he had ever seen before, "Who are you lot?" he mumbled to himself, "And more over what do you want?"

One of his questions at least was answered a few moments later, as he watched the large force split into two and teleport nearer the north and west gates. "Bloody hell," he uttered quickly realising that an army of magicians was encroaching around him. He noticed his own forces taking up positions atop the wall, and felt confident his archers would soon repel any chance these unwelcome strangers had of breaching the city.

Joren stood amongst the front line of his men as they moved to within a few yards of the northern gate. He looked up to see scores of archers looking down upon him, all preparing to fire. He ignored the arrows and crossbow bolts that then streamed down, as they were merely deflected away by the shield being held around the Icenian force. The high lord focused his will and thrust his hands forward hard, as the large metal clad oak gates burst open, spraying a deluge of splintered wood up in the air.

As the debris settled, Joren moved his men forward, hoping the second team were mirroring his own actions at the western gate. Through the clouds of dust, several more volleys of arrows were sent his way, having as little effect as the first batch. A handful of enemy magicians darted forward in an attempt at grabbing him and those beside him, with a view to pulling them out of rank, and back to the Bosarian infantry lining up in front of them. Joren and his fellow magicians merely waved the enemy aside, slamming their bodies into the walls beside them.

A mass of Bosarian infantry surged forward, swords held high as the cry of battle roared out. Joren had not wanted his fellow magicians to have to kill other people, but it was already apparent that engaging the enemy as they had would indeed result in fatalities. After initially forcing the advancing infantry back with a wave of his hand, it was clear the only way to eliminate the threat would be to deal with them on a more permanent basis.

Joren stepped back and allowed the line of magicians behind him to move to the front. The Bosarians charged forward on mass once more, as the Icenians gave a demonstration of their true power. A wall of flame surged out and around, encapsulating the soldiers within. A chorus of yells and screams filled the air just briefly, as the enemy were instantly turned to fire. The dozens of scorched carcasses scattered the blackened stone street, as Joren and his followers pushed further into the city.

Resistance only came in smaller numbers, but the Bosarians did not have anything or anyone powerful enough to stop them. The archers, who had previously rained down arrows upon them were quickly and viscously despatched. Joren had sent a dozen or so of his force up onto the wall to deal with them. Any person caught with a bow or crossbow was merely thrown from the top with a wave of a hand, and sent crashing down to their deaths below.

Davan quickly received word that his forces were simply being brushed aside by the army of red-robed magicians. "We can't touch them Sir...," his messenger had told him, before adding how they had merely wiped out hundreds of men with a wave of a hand. Thinking of what best to do next, Davan had decided to take what he could and fight another day, ordering all his remaining men and magicians to drop everything and make their way to the east gate. As a result, within a few minutes of the order being given, scores of men and horses were quickly scurrying out of Berxsley with their tales firmly between their legs.

Joren had the Icenians split up into smaller groups, patrolling each and every street, looking for anyone resembling a soldier or magician. The high lord had naturally allowed the enemy to escape, hoping that they would return peacefully to their own lands. Just in case they thought otherwise, he dispatched a small force of a dozen magicians to keep track of them, and persuade them back across the border if needed.

Within two hours of them first appearing outside the walls, Berxsley was now in the hands of the Icenian liberators. Joren had felt troubled by the fact he and his people had been left little option but to kill hundreds of people in the process, and was feeling a little remorseful, until he reached the market square that was. In the centre of the large cobbled stoned area lay a number of bodies, some of which had been subjected to beheading; a sight that made his stomach turn and his rage boil. To his horror, he noticed that some of the bodies were those of women and children. Is this what the Bosarians had been doing to the people of Berxsley? If so, then they deserved everything he had been forced to use against them.

The people slowly emerged from their homes, tentatively watching these new invaders as they walked the streets. Whoever they were, they showed no aggression towards them, and as they had sent the Bosarians fleeing, it was soon apparent they meant them no harm.

Joren soon realised he needed to remove the bodies from the market square before he could allow the people back in that part of the city. He asked a few of his people to pile them up, and using their magical abilities, incinerate them; it may not have been a very fitting end for those poor souls, but it was the best he could give them at such short notice. Very soon, a cloud of billowing black smoke was all that was left to indicate anything had taken place there.

As the smaller groups patrolling the city reported in to him, Joren felt confident the streets were as safe as he could make them. "Can you fetch my son, and start bringing the supplies," He asked. The man beside him nodded his head subserviently and carried out the request without delay. For now at least, Joren thought it best to use the one building in Berxsley he knew was vacant, that being the Royal Palace, although he would send several teams to check it was safe for him and his son to use.

Maxim was bored standing around, although he had managed to use the technique his father had taught him to keep warm, his feet still felt the chill. He thought perhaps we was not doing something correctly, and as he did not want to ask one of the other Icenians with him, he resorted to slowing walking around in circles stomping his feet on the hard ground. To help alleviate the boredom he had taken to counting the crates and boxes brought ashore by the ships. After that, he had tried to guess what might be contained within them. Some he could tell quite easily as he could see through the slats, and contained dozens of sacks, of what he presumed was grain.

Several large chests did keep his attention somewhat longer than the others did. These were not like the other crudely made package crates, but more the kind someone might use if transporting personal items. He remembered his friend Zack having something similar, although much smaller, at the wooden cottage in the forest where they had first met. Maxim sighed deeply as he reminisced the first time Zack had given him some fine clothes to wear, the first time he could ever recall anyone being so kind towards him. From that day on, he and Zack had become so close, and the more he thought about it, the more he wished he could be back in Pitford with him.

His pondering was soon interrupted, as he noticed in the corner of his eye, two robed figures returning from further south. He quickly moved to their position wanting to know what had gone on, worried something had gone drastically wrong. Maxim need not have worried however, as one of the men explained the Bosarians had been dealt with, and his father was now waiting for him in Berxsley.

Maxim was whisked away with the help of one of his father's men, covering the distance between the coast and the capital in little more than a few minutes. As he was escorted through the streets of the city, he noticed how fearful the people looked. His escort informed him of what they had discovered in the market square, and Maxim felt disgusted by what he was told. He tried not to think too long on it, deciding instead to think of the positives, the main one being that Berxsley was now free.

He found his father waiting for him at the palace entrance, smiling as he neared. "I thought we could stay here for today," he said placing his arm around his son's shoulder, and leading him into the palace. Maxim's first thought, was that they were probably taking liberty's in what essentially was Anden's home, he changed his mind however when his father told him it would only be for one night. "First light tomorrow we go see your friends," he said making Maxim smile.

By midday, Joren was receiving the reports he wanted, and as each came in, he marked it down on the map he was using. Naturally, it would take several days for the enemy to return across the border into their own lands, but for now at least, it appeared they were all heading the right direction. Joren knew he would have to have several dozen of his people act as escorts, just to make sure those retreating did indeed keep going the way they should, and not decide to regroup to make more trouble.