The Free Kingdoms (Book 2) (2 page)

Darik glanced over his shoulder and saw three men with swords force their way into the room. He grabbed onto Brasson’s neck and the beast lurched away instantly. As he veered away from the window, he struggled to kick his legs onto the beast’s back. The griffin lurched down and he nearly lost his grip before he let the griffin’s momentum swing him atop.

Brasson stretched his wings and flew in a direct line, whether following Averial or simply fleeing for the edge of the cloud, he didn’t know. A huge black shape loomed in front and Brasson swerved with a scream to avoid it. They’d almost run into a tower, and Darik realized that the griffin couldn’t see any better at night than he could.

No moon brightened the sky; the only light came from the torches in the courtyard. But it was enough to see that they flew in the wrong direction. Averial’s cry sounded behind them, further away. Brasson wore no tether, so Darik took a clump of feathers and pulled in the direction he wanted to go. The griffin wheeled around in a circle and headed in the opposite direction, passing over the courtyard again. By now, dozens of torches lit the castle.

Horse neighs and shouts sounded in front of them. A band of winged knights had gained the air and blocked their flight after Daria. Torch light glinted off armor and lances. Brasson lurched up, hoping to clear this obstacle, but winged horses rose to intercept them and turned them back toward the far edge of the castle again. More knights appeared overhead, forcing them lower.

Brasson screamed in frustration. Darik looked for a way out, but could see none. He moved to charge and break through, but he had no weapon and lowered lances forced him away. Averial screamed overhead.

“No!” he cried. “Fly, Daria! Go!”

But she refused to flee while she had her chance. Averial screamed, spooking the winged horses, who hadn’t expected an attack from the rear. Daria was at his side in a moment and the two griffins charged at the gap she’d just opened, breaking for freedom.

The winged horses might not have had the speed of Daria’s griffins, but they proved disciplined and maneuverable. Before Brasson and Averial could stretch their wings into a full charge the enemy had blocked their way with lowered lances. More winged knights closed in from all directions.

Any advantage the griffins had in the air disappeared on the ground, where they were clumsier than the winged horses. The winged knights landed in the courtyard about them, quickly hemming them into a tight circle.

The captain of the winged knights rode forward on his mount. He didn’t wear the winged helmet and his face looked tired and annoyed. “Come, surrender your mounts and spare them, at least.”

“By the brothers,” Darik pleaded. “Show us mercy.”

“Any mercy we might have felt was driven away years ago by outlanders. Now there is only justice.”

“Justice?” Darik cried. “Was it justice or mercy when the Sky Brother rescued your people after the war?”

The captain and his men had slowly moved their mounts into an ever tightening circle, but now they stopped. The captain looked alarmed.

“What do you know of that?” He lowered his lance again. “What tutor taught you about the Cloud Kingdoms. Quickly, boy. Was it an old wizard?”

Darik said quickly, “I read it in a book.” His mind thought furiously of a way to delay the captain longer. “Yes, a book that told me many things about the Cloud Kingdoms. Why do you think I wanted to come here and see the wonders of your lands for myself. But I assure you, I meant no harm.”

The captain lifted his hand and gestured for his men to back up a few paces. “I must ask King Collvern about these outlanders before we exile them.”

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Armed men led Daria and Darik into the king’s court in the morning. Darik could barely stand from exhaustion and hunger but Daria looked as strong and defiant as ever. The king’s court sat in a great hall, where Collvern sat on his throne. Rich wood paneling lined the room, carved with figures. Gold candelabras stood along the walls, casting light toward the ceiling. The throne itself was marble inlaid with gold, and crested with the gold figure of an eagle. Sitting on the throne, was a young man dressed in painted white armor like his men; but instead of a helm, he wore a circlet of gold about his brow. A minister of some kind, dressed in rich crimson robes, stood next to the king.

“King Collvern, Lord of the Cloud Kingdoms,” the captain who’d pronounced their arrest proclaimed. “Bow before the king.” They obeyed, as did Collvern’s knights.

“Rise, Nathal,” Collvern said. “You have done well.” He gestured to the man on his right. “The magistrate of justice tells me you’ve caught the old wizard, as well.”

The captain of the knights rose to his feet. “Yes, my king.” He snapped his fingers and two of his men hurried from the throne room. Others pulled Darik and Daria to their feet. As Darik feared, the men led Markal into the room a moment later. Scree sat on one wrist. With his other hand, he rubbed his beard. He did not appear at all worried; indeed, he smiled and nodded at Darik and Daria when he saw them. He nodded also to the magistrate, then turned his attention to the king.

Collvern sighed when he saw the wizard. “Markal, every time I turn around I discover you working at cross purposes.”

“What cross purposes?” Markal asked. “I simply honor the vows of my Order. Kreth, at least you can understand that?”

The magistrate pulled an amulet from around his neck, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger for a moment before his hands disappeared into the folds of his red robes again. “Yes, Markal, but which is your order?”

Markal smiled. “The Order of the Wounded Hand, of course. The Crimson Path died with Memnet the Great. If I remember correctly, you stood by my side as we tried to keep the master alive.”

“Which is why,” Collvern said, rising from his throne, “your actions distress me so much.” He gestured casually at Darik and Daria. “Outlanders, I can understand, but you? You are one of us. How can you forget our suffering? The destruction of Syrmarria, so that what? Outlanders could build on top of it, a shadow of Syrmarria’s greatness. I almost wished this Cragyn would have burned Balsalom to the ground, it is such an affront to our memory.”

“If you hate Balsalom so much,” Darik said angrily as he lost control of his temper, “Why didn’t you burn it to the ground yourself? It wouldn’t surprise me if you fought alongside the dark wizard. You apparently work to his same goals.”

“Quiet, boy,” the knight holding Darik growled. His grip tightened on the back of Darik’s neck.

“What do you know of Syrmarria?” Markal asked, dryly. “Your grandfather’s grandfather wasn’t even born when the city fell. I daresay that Balsalom is nearly as beautiful as Syrmarria and its people not half so proud and boastful.”

Angry murmurs went through the gathered knights, but none spoke openly against Markal. “You’ve become one of them,” Collvern said, shaking his head with a sad smile. “How you can travel through the Desolation and forgive their crimes, I don’t know.”

“Because it wasn’t Outlanders,” Markal said. “It was mad King Toth himself, and he’s been dead nearly four hundred years. Even beyond the Wylde they rebuild, but the Aristonians stay in their cloud castles, nursing old wounds. And what will you do when the enemy completes the Dark Citadel in Veyre?”

“We could sit here helplessly,” Collvern said, “waiting to be crushed by the dark wizard, or relying on the charity of others like the pathetic Selphan.”

The Selphan, whose blue-turbaned people could often be seen in Balsalom’s souks, had held no country of their own for hundreds of years. Since the destruction of their city by invaders they had lived amongst the khalifates, most concentrated in the west and south. Still, Darik hardly thought them pathetic. Balsalomians at least, respected them as scholars and merchants, even if the Selphan still maintained their own communities, gods, and a language that was more closely related to the old tongue than to anything else spoken in Mithyl.

“The charity of others?” Daria asked quietly. She looked the king in the eye. “You mean covenants between free peoples? Agreements to aid each other when attacked by a common enemy?”

Collvern ignored her, as he had Darik, but neither did he order them silenced. “Come, Markal. I understand you own something that belongs to us.”

Markal shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The magistrate spoke again, his hands on his amulet. Darik wondered if it gave him some sort of prescience. He appeared to be a wizard of some kind, who had known Markal during the Tothian Wars.

“The book, Markal,” Kreth said. “You have it, I believe.”

To Darik’s surprise, Markal didn’t deny knowledge of the book. “I
had
it, yes, but alas, I ran into some difficulties in the mountains and I’m afraid it has passed from my hands.”

“The dark wizard doesn’t have the book, or I would have felt him use it,” the magistrate said.

“Who said anything about the dark wizard?” Darik asked. What kind of game was Markal playing? “We have other enemies, as you have so willingly proven.”

Markal said, “No, an enemy doesn’t have it. But neither are the intentions of its current holder clear yet. We will soon see, I suspect. If, as your captain tells me, the khalifa has retaken Balsalom, she will either march or remain holed up behind her walls. Then, we will know.”

“She has?” Darik asked, a fierce hope rising in his breast. “Balsalom is free?”

The king’s earlier pleasure with his captain disappeared with a single glance. Nathal blanched under that stare.

Kallia,
Darik thought with admiration. Somehow the book had come into her possession. But Darik didn’t think she would hold the book from Markal and the other wizards of the Order. Would she?

“She will side with the Free Kingdoms,” Darik said. “Why don’t you ally with us, as well?” he asked the king.

“Who is your ally?” Markal asked. “And who is your enemy?”

Collvern rose to his feet, face flushed, his patience wearing visibly thin. “We know our enemies. Outlanders, chief among them this wizard, this
Cragyn
, who dares threaten us. He is rebuilding the Dark Citadel to challenge the Sky Brother, and an army of dragons that will burn our castles and our homes, destroy the very clouds that we live on.”

“Dragons?” Darik asked, sensing that he’d reached the limits of what would be tolerated, but needing clarification. “Don’t you mean dragon
wasps?
They killed the last dragon hundreds of years ago.”

“Hah!” the king said, turning away like an angry child. “Listen to the boy. Now he’s an expert on dragons, too.”

The captain of the winged knights said, “A dragon wasp is simply a young dragon, boy. When it turns a hundred years old, it gorges, then buries itself for many years, before emerging as an adult dragon.”

“There are still dragons in Mithyl?” Darik asked. He imagined one of the huge beasts riding forth with the strength of twenty griffins and shuddered.

“At least two, yes,” Kreth answered. The magistrate put away his amulet. “Else there would be no new wasps. These adults must have escaped the griffins during the Tothian Wars, being in chrysalis at the time. Somewhere these dragons are breeding wasps. We’ve been unable to find them.”

Daria shook her head, clearly disturbed by both this news and the king’s outburst. “But I don’t understand. Isn’t that all the more reason to ally yourselves to the griffin riders, so together we can hunt down these dragons?” This time, Darik noted several murmurs, some in agreement.

“Yes, why not?” Darik continued. “We fight the same enemy. And we can’t threaten you should our alliance sour. Why not ally with Balsalom and the Free Kingdoms to defeat the dark wizard?”

“Yes, why not?” the magistrate asked in a soft voice.

Collvern glared him into silence then turned to Markal, even though it had been Darik who’d spoken. “Do you remember what happened last time we fought alongside the Outlanders? They burned our villages, plowed our fields with swords, and destroyed Syrmarria, the greatest city the world has ever seen. This conversation bores me. Nathal, take them away.”

“Kill them?”

Darik swallowed hard. Daria stared straight ahead, but a tremor worked at her lip and he could see just how frightened she was. A slight smile played at Markal’s lips, but Scree flapped her wings on his arm and he had to reach up a hand to soothe her. Perhaps the bird sensed the wizard’s fear.

The king turned to the magistrate of justice. Kreth looked at Markal before looking at Darik and Daria. “No, release them.”

“Release them?” Collvern asked sharply.

Kreth said, “They mean nothing to us. We need the book.”

“Then you believe him? That he doesn’t have the book?”

Kreth nodded. “Markal isn’t strong enough to wield its power by himself. If he brings it back to the Citadel, he’ll be forced to surrender it to the Order. But Chantmer the Tall controls the Order. Markal and Chantmer no longer agree on the direction of the Order. No, I think he’s given it to the khalifa of Balsalom. There are wizards in the khalifates strong enough to use the book. Perhaps she is in contact with one of these wizards.”

“But the law,” Nathal protested, stepping forward from his men. “They are Outlanders.”

A look passed between Markal and Kreth. The magistrate said, “Markal isn’t an Outlander. These two are his guests and only children. Their crimes do not warrant death.”

“Yes, the khalifa,” Collvern said as if he hadn’t heard the argument between the magistrate and the captain of the winged knights. “I didn’t think her strong enough to retake Balsalom on her own. But if she had the book…” He gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “As you wish, magistrate.” He turned to Nathal. “Captain, let them go.”

Nathal led them to the green. Others brought Averial and Brasson a few minutes later, nicely groomed, with wounds bandaged. Nathal had kept his promise to care for the griffins, even when Darik and Daria had attempted an escape. The sun rose in the sky, clearing the rain and clouds. Brasson eyed Markal and gave an inquisitive squawk. Scree shrieked and struggled against the wizard’s grip. Markal leaned down and whispered in the falcon’s ear and this soothed it. He climbed onto Brasson’s back behind Darik.