King of Blades - 12. Blood Ties, Magic Ties, Love Ties

Coulta returned from training his spies the next afternoon and decided that he needed some of Myri's tea to ease the throbbing in his head, before he tried once more to find out from his spies what was happening around them. Myri was out working with the healers, likely putting her new abilities to the test, so it was up to him to figure out which tea he needed. She kept an organized assortment of pre-mixed herbs in her room, but Coulta quickly realized that he wasn't knowledgeable enough to choose what would work for him. All of the mixtures were arranged in small boxes or pouches, labeled with what they were called, but not what they did. He was about to give up when Anil appeared in the doorway.

"Need something?" she asked.

He nodded. "Do you know which of these is for headaches?"

Anil walked up to him and picked up a small tin box from right in front of him. "This is it," she stated, showing him the label. He moved to take it from her with a word of thanks, but she just shook her head and stepped away. "Go lay down. I'll make it for you."

Coulta wasn't about to argue, so we went out to Wildas' room and lay down on the sofa by the dead hearth. Moments later Anil joined him to wait for the tea to heat, seating herself next to his legs.

"This war business is going to turn you and Wildas into old men before your time," she declared.

"Maybe Myri has a tea for that," Coulta replied, half-jokingly, as he watched Anil run a hand over her swollen abdomen. He sat up slowly, so his head didn't spin, and moved closer to her side. "I do love you, Anil," he declared, gently taking her hand.

She smiled. "If you're worrying about what Terezka said yesterday, don't." She lightly caressed his hand. "I know that there is something deeper between you and Wildas, and it's beautiful to see, really. But I know that you both do care for Myri and me. I've spent enough nights with each of you to know that you treat us right, that we're not just around because Wildas needs an heir. I know, and I love you."

Coulta pulled her close and kissed her lips softly.

Meeting occasionally with the mages who were teaching each other spells and trading magical theories, Coulta was aware of how the magical group was growing. There were close to one hundred sorcerers and sorceresses from all over the country now. There were several Reds whose powers could be traced back to Algoma, and a few with magic that could not be completely understood, much like Coulta's own magic, and who were simply known as Arcanes. One of these was a very old woman with eyes like a cat and who was mostly silent and emotionless. Some of the younger ones seemed afraid of her, but most of the others seemed to accept her, and Shelton was happy with her desire to serve.

The majority of the mages were those with distinctive colors to their magic. Among them was a brother and sister pair of twins with magic of such a vivid pink that Coulta couldn't even look at them when they cast spells, and their robes were blinding in the sunlight. There was also the sorcerer whose magic was a distinctive, pure white. He was so obsessed with the purity he believed it symbolized, that he refused to share powers with anyone.

Power sharing was becoming increasingly common. It seemed that power-infused talismans and charms were being traded daily, and Coulta could guess that there were also strategic pairings of bodies going on, as well.

Coulta was watching a man in a blue robe demonstrate a levitation spell to a large group of observers when Shelton approached him. They both watched as the sorcerer sent a woman's hair pin speeding through the air toward the great hall's wall with the just the flick of a wrist and a murmured word. With another word it turned and returned to him, settling in his outstretched hand.

"He seems to think he can prove that anything could be used as a weapon," Shelton whispered as the others tried to offer up other items to be tested.

"I gathered that," Coulta replied quietly. "I suppose he's probably right."

Shelton nodded. "He enjoys making a show of himself, though. Come, I have something for you."

Curious, Coulta followed his mentor back to the sorcerer's workroom. Once there, Shelton picked a bundle up off one of his cluttered desks and handed it to Coulta. Coulta was surprised to discover that it was a lightweight chain mail shirt, with several smooth, small violet stones worked into the metal weave.

"Brother Pelles came to speak to me a week ago," Shelton explained. "Apparently, the Spirits have given him some vision of what is to come. He believes you may be in need of more power than you alone possess. Those stones are infused with as much magic as they will hold, which is quite a bit. When your own magic is depleted you will be able to draw from those stones without any difficulty as you would your own powers."

Coulta ran a hand over the shirt, feeling the power within the stones. There was more than he would have expected. The priest must have had quite a vision. "What did Brother Pelles say about his vision?"

"Only that you needed more power," Shelton answered. "He refused to give me any details."

Before Coulta could ask more questions to see if he could figure out what the priest had seen and exactly what he'd told Shelton, there was a knock on the half-open workroom door.

When Shelton opened the door Coulta saw a young man dressed in the gray uniform of the castle servants, and a taller, shadowed figure behind him. The servant bowed deeper than he would have bowed to Shelton, seeing Coulta, and stammered, "Forgive me, my lords, but another sorcerer has arrived to join the mages."

Shelton nodded. "Thank you, Drake." The servant bowed again and hurried away as Shelton turned to the newcomer. "Welcome, and do come in."

The stranger was travel-worn, wearing a dirty brown cloak and sporting a ragged graying beard and wind-blown brown and gray hair. As he entered his gaze stayed riveted on Coulta, and Coulta felt a strange tug of recognition that he couldn't place. Suddenly, the man dropped to his knees before Coulta, hands clasped imploringly, sobbing, "Please, forgive me. Forgive me for leaving you. I'm here now. I'm at your command. Forgive me, forgive me please."

Shelton seemed somewhat alarmed by this and demanded, "Who are you?"

"His name is Markiel," Coulta declared, then walked around the man and out of the room without looking back.

Coulta spent the rest of the day trying to decide how he felt about his father's presence in his home. The man had abandoned him when he was only a child, leaving him with Lord Varin, a man who had used Coulta to bring death upon anyone he had fault with for years. Even if the man had thought what he was doing was for the best, the fact that he had abandoned his son and put him on the path to becoming an assassin still had a greater influence on Coulta's emotions. It didn't matter that he was there now to fight for their defense, he had left him when he should have raised him.

No, Coulta would not be forgiving him very soon or very easily, if he ever could find it in himself to forgive the man at all.

"You seem troubled."

Startled, Coulta looked away from the window he'd been staring out of in Wildas' room. His husband had come to stand beside him and Coulta hadn't even noticed, so absorbed was he in his thoughts.

"What's wrong?" the Grand King asked, sitting on the window seat.

Coulta sat with him and sighed. "My father's here."

"He is?" Wildas sounded surprised.

Coulta nodded. "He came to join Shelton's mages."

"And you don't know how you feel about that."

"Exactly. He begged my forgiveness, but I can't just forgive him for leaving me to Varin."

Wildas nodded in understanding. "I wouldn't be able to, either, in your place. You know, you don't need to forgive him if you can't. If you don't feel he deserves it, then don't give it."

Coulta sighed again. "I can't decide if he does or not."

Wildas gently took his hand. "I would give him a chance to prove it to you, one way or the other. But it's up to you."

Nodding, Coulta replied. "I know. Maybe he will earn it when everything comes crashing down on us."

Wildas' grip grew tighter for a moment. "Hopefully we all will."