Of Gods and Warriors ✓

Chapter 10

"I come bearing a message from His Majesty, King Krugmann of Drisia," he said after returning the empty vial to Avalyn. "On behalf of Drisia, he offers you sanctuary."

"Had no idea I was that famous."

"Makes sense. You're hardly seen outside the Byton Royal Academy of Magic. Well, until recently, at least."

The dagger was in her hands again as she fiddled with its handle. "What's the catch? Surely His Majesty doesn't go around providing shelter to every other wizardfolk in distress."

"Can't say I know much about his regard for your kind." He gave her a mirthless smile. “But King Krugmann certainly has a kind heart, I'd say. He did once rescue a boy whose father was burned at a stake-- a Midaelian child, no less. I suppose you could say he's...generous. But that's beside the point, sorceress. In return for his hospitality, he simply asks you to continue your research in Ancient Sorcery as you did at the academy."

Avalyn knew full well there had to be more to that. But with the poison tipped arrows of the assassins trained on her at all times, her options were limited.

"Should your work benefit Drisia through its application, he is willing to offer you the position of the Royal Sorceress in his court."

A bitter smile spread on her lips at that. "My work, huh? Well, all I did was simply uncover the filthy tricks of sorcery Drisia used during the Great War, perhaps you have been informed."

"Yes, His Majesty has told me some of that. With the Ancient Sorcery techniques, the sorcerers of Drisia once raised an undead army even Rhilio could not defeat. So powerful they were, it threatened the harmony between the realms. And thus came the Apocalypse to end them all.”

"And you ask me to grant Drisia the chance to do it again." Avalyn rested her face into her thin palms. "Rhilio's mercy, it's like unearthing a deadly weapon only to hand it back to its wielder."

"To its rightful place it should go, the sorcery." Captain Reylan said quietly. "And your work should benefit those who know well enough to appreciate its true worth."

Avalyn looked up. "But you know this is wrong."

"I," he said, "am not one to judge His Majesty's decisions. I'm simply following my orders. But if you ask me, sorceress, the way Midaelia has treated you is also wrong. Personally, it disgusts me."

A part of her wanted to refuse, to send the man back telling him loud and clear that Midaelians would rather die than betray their own blood.

And then what? Lock her doors and poison her blades once more to be ready to face the same Midaelians who were out to kill her?

Captain Reylan reached into his cloak and pulled out a letter bearing the seal of the Drisian Royal court which he now handed to Avalyn. The content of the letter was the same as he'd told her, signed by Krugmann himself. But Avalyn's mind was made.

She handed it back to him and got to her feet. "Your offer is accepted. When do we set out?"

He regarded her with wide eyes. "Right this moment, if you'd like. Arrangements can be made."

"Very well."

"Made up your mind surprisingly fast, didn't you?" he said with a smile, "what if this were a trap? What if I truly were an assassin, just more resourceful than the others?"

"Captain," she said, "I have been betrayed by the one person I've looked up to my whole life. Had my decades worth of research claimed by somebody else. Been declared dead all around Midaelia, and currently having to fight off men who come to make that statement a reality."

She paused. "I haven't much to lose. My life is already over."

The captain remained silent for a moment, eyes on the floorboards as Avalyn shuffled around, collecting the few possessions she had in a tattered knapsack. She then moved before a tainted, rusty mirror to weave her long hair into a braid.

"In Drisia, you can start anew," he said, and met her gaze in the tarnished glass.

✦✧✦✧

The rough wind had slowed. Avalyn looked skyward; flecks of snow made their leisurely way through the air as though time had slowed down. Some of those came to rest upon her dark hair.

From the depths of the frozen lake behind the cabin came low groans. The ice was cracking.

Such sounds were the echoes of the Winter God's footsteps, drifting from his realm far away, they said. True or not, she loved the sounds of ice. In the lonely nights spent in the abandoned cabin, it made her feel safe. The knapsack slung over one shoulder, Avalyn glanced at the lake for one last time.

She was going to miss the song of the ice.

The walk through the woods was a quiet one. Fresh snow crunching underfoot, he led her down the trail. On his signal, a carriage scurried out from behind a clump of trees, pulled by a pair of great white horses.

She looked up as the carriage came to a halt before them. Snow gathered in its intricate, black and gold carvings, lace curtains hung at its windows, set with two magnificent beasts; it was a thing fit for the nobles.

"We should get going, Captain, if we intend to make the crossing before sundown," said the driver. The horses tossed their heads, breaths turning to steam. There were a few other mounted guards who came up and reined in beside the carriage.

Captain Reylan swung open the ornate door. "For today, sorceress, you are a noble lady from Glasswolf, on your way home after a visit to your sister at Byton. That's what our papers would say at the border post," he said, taking her hand as he helped her up onto the carriage.

"And I'm ...Emric. Emric Shafforn, a hired guard to escort you back to safety," he finished, closing the door after she had settled herself inside.

Avalyn tilted her head, looking at him through the curtains. "Emric, huh? That an alias?"

The captain paused for a moment before smiling, his perfect, white teeth gleaming like pearls. "Yes...yes, an alias indeed."

"A lovely name."

He chuckled. "Well in that case, you may call me as such. I don't mind."

✦✧✦✧

When Avalyn had set foot on the premises of the Byton Royal Academy of Magic, known throughout Stormvale as the centre of all sorts of academic research in magic, sorcery and arcane arts, she had never thought it would end like this.

That the High Sorcerer, under whom she worked as apprentice would claim her decades worth of hard work as his.

That he would stage her death before she could present her research before The Council.

That he would not stop at that, but hire assassins to shut her up for good.

And so here she was, standing on the swaying floor of a dead-carrier vessel of the Drisian Marine fleet, far from home. A fresh corpse of a young, red-haired Private lay on the table before her, blood still wet on his lips.

Emric was at her side.

"Please proceed, sorceress."