The Free Kingdoms (Book 2) (3 page)

“You know the way?” Nathal asked.

Daria nodded. “I do. Thank you for caring for Averial and Brasson.” Her eyes narrowed. “I wish I could thank you for something else, but I simply can’t think of anything.” She turned to Averial. “Ska!”

Darik followed her lead with a grin at her spirit. They soared past the windmills, now motionless, then dropped over the edge of the cloud toward the city.

Balsalom was gone. Simply not there. They’d flown on the breeze, windmills turned off, probably all through the last day and night. The mountains were
east,
not where he’d expected. To the west, farms and towns and cities, and green everywhere. Eriscoba?

Frowning, Daria pointed to the ground and they dropped. When they landed, Darik asked Markal, “Where
are
we?”

“Meadow Down,” Markal said. “A pleasant little kingdom. I lived here for about sixty years once, had a wife and raised hogs.”

Daria frowned. “Good thing they didn’t keep us in the tower any longer or we might have floated right over the edge of the world.” She studied the mountains. “That must be Mount Rachis.”

Darik asked Markal, “Why did you give the book to the khalifa? And when did you see her?”

“What book?” Markal asked.

“What do you mean, what book? The steel tome.”

Markal grinned and reached inside his robe. He pulled out the book. “Oh, this book? I almost forgot I carried it.” He scratched his head. “Now why did I think that Kallia had it? I can’t remember.”

Darik laughed. He hadn’t thought he could carry anything in those robes, let alone the bulky tome with its steel leaves. “Didn’t they search you for weapons before they brought you before the king?”

“Exactly so,” Markal said. “And since they searched for weapons, I found it simple enough to turn their attention away from anything else I might be carrying. As for Kreth the Sage, he suffers from the same ailment that afflicts most Aristonians. Arrogance. And arrogance causes blindness.”

“How do you mean?” Darik asked.

“He simply could not imagine holding the Tome of Prophesy and not using it. If I had read the book recently, he would have seen me.” Markal smiled. “Fortunately, I lack that same arrogance. I am only too aware of my own faults and weaknesses, perhaps because they are so numerous. I tried to read the book once, failed, and put it away.”

“But wait,” Darik said, his thoughts turning uncomfortably to his own attempt to read the book. “Is Kallia in danger?”

“Not if she stays in Balsalom or rides with her army. Collvern wants the book, but nothing has roused Aristonia to open battle since the fall of Syrmarria. He’ll set his wizards to discover where she hides it, and since she doesn’t hide it anywhere, they will fail.”

Darik asked, “What now? Do we go for the Citadel or return to find Whelan and Daria’s father?”

Daria looked back toward the mountains. “I know a pass we can fly and be home by evening. I hope Averial can make it that far with her injuries.” She gathered Averial’s tethers then glanced back expectantly at Darik and Markal.

“Daria, you return and find them,” Markal said. “Darik and I will press on to the Citadel.” He slid from Brasson’s back.

Darik didn’t like that plan. “It’s too dangerous for Daria to travel alone with so many winged knights and dragon wasps in the sky. I’d better return to the aerie with her.”

“Brasson and Averial will be strong enough protection. Daria, thank you for your help. Come on Darik, we’ve got a long way to travel.”

Darik frowned and climbed from Brasson’s back. Daria glanced at Markal and then gave Darik a wistful look. He looked to Markal, but the wizard smiled back obliviously. Could he really not see that Darik wanted a few minutes alone with her before she left?

Daria looked away from Markal to Darik. “Will you come see me when you can? We can fly together again.”

He meant to say something noncommittal, not knowing where his path led, but he couldn’t help himself. Picking up her hand and kissing it gently, he said, “I’ll come as soon as I can.”

She blushed and looked quickly away when she saw Markal watching them. She picked up the reins. “Ska!”

Darik watched the griffins fly east toward the mountains, Daria’s hair blowing in the wind. When they disappeared from view, he turned and glared at Markal. “You ruined that moment, thank you.”

Markal laughed. “What moment? I didn’t see anything.”

“You know what I’m talking about. Couldn’t you have given us a moment together? Just a few minutes alone?”

“Life is long, Darik. Be patient.”

“Maybe your life is long,” Darik said. “But mine is rushing by like a galloping horse. Just a couple of weeks ago, I worked in Graiyan’s kitchen. Not long before that, I lived quite happily with my father and sister. My life rushes by but never goes back. Maybe I’ll never see her again.”

Markal shrugged. “A week, maybe two at most. You’ll see her soon enough.”

Darik looked west. The sky was covered with cloud castles. While he watched, an army of winged knights flew from one castle to the next and this made him wonder. When he and Daria arrived, an entire cavalry had greeted them. How had the king’s cavalry been so prepared for the griffin riders? The answer was obvious: the Cloud Kingdoms already prepared for war. But with whom?

Chapter Two

Markal inspected the wound in Darik’s shoulder, then found a few herbs along the road which he pressed into the cut with a few simple spells to speed the healing. The throbbing faded immediately.

Once Darik and Markal got underway, Darik turned to the wizard. “What happened? Why aren’t you with the others?”

Markal eyed him with a look that was hard to read, but definitely not the man’s usual cheerful grin. “Maybe I’d better ask you a question first. Did I or did I not say that you weren’t to read the book?”

Darik looked away. He wanted to protest that he hadn’t meant to read the book just
look
at it, and once he opened it, just couldn’t close it again. But no, the truth was, Markal’s instructions were clear enough. “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

Markal said. “You’ll recover. The bigger mistake was letting the book out of your care once the dark wizard knew you had it. He went after it immediately.”

Darik frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Markal said, “Fortunately, I reached it first. Alas, the enemy killed several griffins and riders trying to get the book.”

A pall settled over Darik. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never touch magic again.”

“Too late for that, boy. Once magic rears up and bites you on the ass, there’s no looking back. To answer your question, I found you through the book. For some reason, it’s chosen
you
to unlock its secrets.”

“Me?” Darik said, disbelieving. “Whatever for?”

Markal shrugged. “Who can say? Probably because you’re the first to have read it for so long. There’s no question, however, that you have wizardry in your blood.”

Darik didn’t know what to think of this revelation. It disturbed him a little. “So what do I do?”

“Time enough to worry later. Right now we have to reach the Citadel.” He shook his head, looking grim. “The enemy will be here in a week, two at best, and I fear for King Daniel.”

It had been several days since they’d met with the other wizards on the edge of the Desolation, and Darik hoped they would reach Arvada to discover the king improving. “You don’t think he’ll die, do you?”

Markal shrugged. “I fear the worst, and I don’t mean the king’s death.”

“Worse then death? What could that be?”

Markal said, “Have you ever wondered what became of the high khalif and his wife? Dead, but not gathered by the Harvester.
Wights.
Slaves of the dark wizards.”

A shudder rippled through Darik, as he remembered the gibbering wights on the night they escaped from Graiyan’s kitchens.

“Now,” Markal said, “we’ve got many miles to go on foot yet.” The wizard walked briskly, and Darik hurried to follow.

Scree was jittery, struggling every time they made a sudden move. Markal had fashioned a simple hood from an old rag, and when he put it over the falcon’s head, this calmed her somewhat.

The day was warm. They found a cart-rutted road with thick briars of wild berries on either side. The air held the rich scent of fertile fields, while bees and other insects bustled about to finish their business before autumn. Meadow Down was a small free kingdom, mostly farmlands and a few villages. They met men pulling carts or repairing the stone walls, who invariably greeted them with a “Ho there, lads!” and a friendly tip of the cap.

“You wait here just a minute,” Markal said when they reached the edge of a small village. “I can move faster on my own.”

Darik sat in the shade of an apple tree and ate a few pieces of fruit he found lying in the grass. He’d drifted off to sleep in the warm sun by the time Markal returned leading two horses. “Now we can make some time,” Markal said.

Later they passed three small girls picking blackberries from a hedge. They passed the girls’ mother around the next bend and the woman stopped them and gave them a heavy cloth of blackberries. “To sweeten your travels, friends,” she said.

Darik turned to Markal after they left her behind, munching happily on the berries. The berries were just the right mixture of tartness and sweetness. “Don’t they know they’re about to be invaded?”

“Most have heard something by now, but nobody takes it seriously. When you have a hundred different kingdoms, each one thinks it might escape the fighting. It doesn’t help that King Daniel has made no move to gather an army.”

This news alarmed Darik more than the king’s illness. “So the enemy walks into Eriscoba and nobody stands in his way? Then the war is already over.”

“So we’re out for a pointless stroll today, are we?” He shook his head. “You forget the Order and the Brotherhood, both bitter enemies of the dark wizard. Picture five hundred men like Whelan riding into battle backed by two score wizards, many significantly more powerful than myself. We’ll make Montcrag look like a tavern brawl. That’s why the enemy hesitates. He wants to bring every possible weapon into position.”

“You don’t think he’ll return to Balsalom?”

“Hard to say,” Markal said. “But I would guess no. Controlling the mountains will cost him dearly. If he retreats, he risks losing that advantage and giving the Free Kingdoms a chance to organize.”

They spent the night in a farmhouse in Fairhaven, a small kingdom of millers and grazers north of the Citadel, but south of Meadow Down, nestled in a single valley between two hills. Wind chimes hung in rows outside every house throughout Fairhaven. Indeed, throughout Eriscoba. Some chimes were carved wooden tubes, others polished brass, still others rows of glass circles. When the wind blew, the air rang with the sound of them all. Darik missed Balsalom’s crickets, but found the chimes comforting.

Memory chimes, Markal explained. Each chime represented a friend or family member who’d died. People often made their own memory chimes, putting in the details for which they wanted to be remembered.

Fairhaven stood close to the Wylde, and the forest sent tendrils of trees into the valley. Darik heard snuffling outside the barn that night. A strong animal smell trickled beneath the doors. The horses neighed nervously, but not in terror, and Darik thought it likely that such creatures often came sniffing from the forest at night.

He didn’t know if the creature came back because he slept too deeply. Markal finally roused him at midmorning and they left, passing from Fairhaven. They reached the Citadel that afternoon. It rose from the far side of a city at the center of its kingdom, a cluster of towers and buildings. A single tower of brilliant gold stood above the others, faced by a second, slightly shorter tower of black granite. Golden Tower and Sanctuary Tower, Markal told him. Both were visible for miles before the rest of the Citadel and Arvada itself came into view.

The city itself was called Arvada, but in the last hundred years people simply called the city, and the whole kingdom for that matter, the Citadel. Only residents still called it Arvada, and only to each other. The city had stood since the Tothian Wars. Its name came from an ancient clan of men from the north, white-skinned and blond-haired.

The Arvada had been driven south by other warring tribes. They were mammoth hunters from lands of rock and ice, but when they came south, they found no big game, only warm, fertile valleys. With the blessing of the Forest Brother, they cut freeholds from the Wylde and founded a city that bore their name. By the time invaders came over the mountain a thousand years later, Arvada had grown as powerful as any city on either side of the mountains and spread across the land. And even though the newcomers conquered the Arvada, teaching them how speak and read their own tongue, the city retained much of its power.

Veyre and Arvada were the only cities to survive the Tothian Wars intact. The latter’s survival was even more surprising considering that Toth had built the Way right through the heart of the city, thus lending it enormous strategic importance.

A system of defensive walls surrounded the city, each hundreds of years old. Protected by ancient magicks, the center of the defense was the system of gates on each of the four edges of the city. Passing beneath a series of barbicans, an attacker must go through the heart of the towers, exposing himself to hundreds of murder holes and other nasty surprises. It would be easier to smash a breach into the walls themselves.

But for all of Arvada’s power, it was simply a city. It wasn’t as beautiful as Balsalom, with its gardens and fountains. What captured Darik’s imagination was not Arvada, but the Citadel itself. Twin towers reached magnificently into the sky, one of black granite with dozens of tiny white flags snapping in the breeze at its top. The second was taller and more slender and glimmered with tons of gold leaf pressed into its surface by devout pilgrims. As they grew closer, Darik found himself gawking upward in amazement.