53. Keelan

Chapter 53

Keelan

I t took longer than Atikus had anticipated to find a captain willing to ferry us across the bay. With a war raging and talk of a blockade by the island nations, no one wanted to go anywhere near the Melucian coast.

Weeks after leaving the cave, we finally met a crusty old captain with a rickety-looking ferry who was willing to venture near Fleet Town, the primary trading port between the Kingdom and their neighbor. The man haggled, claiming wartime conditions warranted triple his normal fee. In the end, he agreed to ferry two men and two horses for the price of the third horse. I knew the beast was worth far more than triple a ferry trip, but the captain grumbled as though he’d been taken by bandits.

Utter darkness shrouded us as we approached the Melucian shoreline hours later.

Thick clouds hid the moon and stars.

Atikus shivered at the freezing air that blew across the open water, despite being bundled in every coat and cloak he owned. As promised, the captain delivered us deftly onto shore, four miles south of Fleet Town. I thanked the Spirits for the uneventful ride and quiet reentry into our homeland.

There wasn’t a soldier—friend or foe—anywhere to be seen.

The horses, especially Dittler, were restless after hours trapped on a boat that never ceased its dancing. After a bit of cajoling, we mounted and set off for Saltstone, determined to let the horses loosen stiff muscles while edging closer to home.

A couple of hours after midnight, Atikus was near to falling off his mare, so I called a halt. We had made good time across gentle land and now camped only a few hundred yards from the road that led to the capital.

The sky bled yellow and orange when I next woke.

Winter’s grip was still strong, and a frigid air whistled from the coast across the land. Thankfully, the day was clear and bright, lifting my spirits for the first time since we left the cave.

“You cooking anything for breakfast?” Atikus stared through slitted eyes.

I shook my head and chuckled. “I nearly kill a monarch, then we flee into a war-torn country, and the first thing you ask about is bacon and eggs?”

Atikus sat up. “Bacon and eggs sound lovely. I do not suppose you have any in that pack of yours, do you?”

Another chortle, then the sound of rummaging answered the Mage.

“Let’s see. We have dried, unidentifiable meat, or a different dried, unidentifiable meat. What’s your pleasure, good Mage?”

Atikus mimed an affronted sniff, as though he had just stuck his nose down a latrine. “Some traveling companion you are.”

I tossed a piece of meat into Atikus’s chest and laughed. It was a deep, soulful sound, the first such laugh in far too many days.

The Mage smiled broadly, his eyes twinkling, but said nothing—for once.

Wood was scarce, but I managed to find a few pieces to start a small fire. I scooped snow into a small bucket and melted it over the flame so I could water and feed the horses. Simple chores held an odd sort of pleasure, as the life of a nation, or a queen, or anyone else, didn’t rest on my shoulders over the making of a fire.

A short time later, our horses’ hooves struck stones, and Atikus pointed to the familiar sight of the Silver Mountains, their towering peaks appearing tiny in the distance. I couldn’t ever remember being so happy to see those snow-topped mountains.

Two days passed with Atikus needling me about my lack of culinary preparation for our journey. I returned the jabs with questions of the Mage’s inability to simply conjure tasty meals. It almost felt as though we were back at the guild, adopted father and son.

I smiled and watched the old Mage trot a few strides ahead, my mind wandering to memories of a much younger Atikus chasing an even more youthful Declan around the courtyard.

Then Atikus reined in his horse, and his hand rose to his brow to shade his eyes. Something in how he sat rigidly in his saddle sent a trickle of unease through my chest.

“What is it? Is someone coming?” My hand rested instinctively on the pommel of my sword.

“No. No one’s coming.” Atikus sucked in a breath. “Saltstone’s on fire. We’re still three leagues away, but I can see the smoke rising.”

“The whole city?”

Atikus looked back. The grim set of his features stilled my tongue.

“There are many plumes of black smoke rising into the sky. I fear the worst may have happened. Be ready with your sword.”

A league closer, we reached the edge of the Kingdom’s encampment. It was little more than a disheveled array of tents and smoldering fires.

I smelled death long before I saw it.

Smoke from burning wood and flesh assaulted my senses, souring my stomach and making my eyes water and sting. Frozen, brackish slush covered the ground between endless rows of wind-battered tents. I searched frantically for guards or scouts—or any soldiers—but none remained.

The Kingdom forces were nowhere to be seen.

Even their supply wagons stood unattended.

We urged our horses forward.

Catapults, like silent wooden skeletons, glared down. Frost had formed over most of their blackened frames.

Then I caught sight of the killing field before the walls.

Even Jess’s unflappable stallion bucked at the overpowering destruction laid before us. Atikus turned and retched, unable to move toward the horror.

I dismounted, tethered Dittler to a nearby tent, and staggered forward. Hundreds—no, thousands of men in Kingdom green lay broken and unmoving across the field. Charred remnants of barricades protruded in places. There was no path forward, only over and through.

I climbed my way to the wall.

The stench and feel of men beneath my boots made bile rise in my throat. I lifted the collar of my cloak to cover my mouth and nose and swallowed hard.

My heart plummeted when I looked beyond the gap-toothed wall toward the Mages’ Compound. Raging white flames plumed as billowing blue smoke streamed from where the Mages’ tower had once stood. I braced myself on one of the few gate logs still standing, gaping at the remnants of my beloved city.

The Tower. How is it gone? How is that even possible?

Atikus navigated the field to stand beside me. The Mage followed my gaze, and a guttural, soul-wrenched wail slipped from his lips. He tried to grasp my arm for support but fell to his knees as sobs overtook him.

I fell quickly and wrapped him in my arms.

On a field devoid of life, father and son wept.

I lost any semblance of time. A voice calling from somewhere far away caused my eyes to rise.

“Spires or Melucia? I won’t ask again.”

A teenage boy in an oversized Melucian Rangers’ uniform stood sixty paces away. He held a loaded crossbow, its bolt gleaming in the sunlight, aimed in our direction.

I raised both hands and stood slowly.

“I’m Guardsman Keelan Rea. This is Mage Atikus Dani. We’ve just returned from . . . a distant mission . . . to find this.” My tear-blurred eyes roamed across the charred city.

The crossbow lowered as the boy’s eyes widened. “Mage? And you’re Lieutenant Rea? The Lieutenant Rea?”

Atikus gathered himself and looked up. “Yes, boy, he is the Lieutenant Rea. Now, I need you to take me to the Arch Mage. We have important news for the Triad.”

The boy’s shoulders slumped, and I thought he might drop his heavy crossbow. “The Triad’s gone, sir. The Arch Mage died when the tower went down. General Vre and the Guildmaster were . . . they were burned.”

“Sweet Spirits,” Atikus muttered. “The Arch Mage is dead? Are the Kingdom soldiers still here? Who is in charge now?”

“The Phoenix killed most of the Kingdom troops, but not before they killed most of ours. The people haven’t come back yet, so there’s not much to be in charge of.”

Atikus and I exchanged confused looks.

“You need to get to the guild. I’ll go to the Guard Compound and join you later,” I said.

Atikus nodded and let me help him to his feet. I turned to the boy. “Son, I need you to take Mage Dani to the Mages’ Guild. What’s your name?”

“Aaron, sir. I’m Aaron Dempsy.”