Lief could only mumble, filling the room with barks and gestures with sore countenances. His body shuddered, and it wasn’t from the cold. He looked frightened.
“Tell me what happened,” King Alexandal demanded. He sat across from the fisherman in darkness. The king put down a parchment, shoved aside the maid who was washing his wounds, and patted Lief’s nubby limbs with ash. “Draw!”
The wounds were clearly still tender from the amputation and left streaks of blood as he drew, crying and yelping with every line and curve. When he finished the picture it looked like a hat or crown.
“A soldier’s helmet,” Alexandal said.
But Lief shook his head.
The coin master said, “It looks like a hat of some sort.”
“A crown,” Indrid said. “A king’s crown.”
The fisherman nodded fast.
“It’s a warning from the mages, a threat of invasion. They are after the crown—me—the king,” Alexandal said.
Lief’s eyes widened, shaking his head, as it seemed the king misinterpreted what he was trying to say. But before he could interject with a mumble, Alexandal waved him off, signaling his guards to take him away.
Although Lief couldn’t speak and could barely draw, there were so many more questions Indrid wanted to ask: What did the assaulter look like? Did anybody else see what happened? The fisherman’s answers might not be easily interpreted, but Indrid felt that it was worth asking. Apparently, he was the only one interested. Why wouldn’t Alexandal ask these things?
“This attack was an act of war, and it will not be tolerated by Ikarus authority. We will retaliate, but without sacrificing the lives of our own people. I’ve contemplated this for some time. And as cruel as it sounds, they leave us no choice…We will poison the Hart River.”
Indrid almost fainted.
Alexandal continued. “They get their fresh water when it runs through the mountain. We do it upstream where the Noahl and Origon merge. They will never expect it.” Alexandal looked proud to share his idea so quickly imagined.
“Poison the river?” Indrid asked. It sounded like madness. “The Hart River? That’s sacred waters? The Merns will be furious! It empties directly into waters that flow through their bays. You will start a war,” Indrid said nervously.
“We are at war, young general. Remember, you even said it yourself. As long as mages and exiles are conspiring against the throne using magic against us, we cannot remain silent.”
“Yes, at war with those that threaten our kingdoms, but not with our own people.” Indrid begged them to reason.
It was obvious that the other council members did not agree with Alexandal either. Their grins wore their objection, but their silence made it obvious that they were scared to oppose the king.
“Then I grant you the opportunity to bring me the one responsible for this attack, General. Bring him to justice and I will reconsider the only other option in sending the message back,” Alexandal said.
“Thank you, my lord,” Indrid said.
“Your alacrity is inspiring.”
As a designated survivor in the event that the king and all of the council members were killed, Indrid was fifth in line from the Ikarus throne, which he noted to himself almost daily. At the moment, he was a mere general at Ikarus, yet a pending count of Grale. He wore armor that was given to him by his people, the Graleons. And despite the dispute with King Alexandal, they were all still expecting Indrid’s return.
Before heading out on the hunt for the attacker, Indrid stopped in the library basement to see Montague. It was crucial to tell him about Alexandal’s threat. Indrid knew that Montague would be devastated at the news, but just in case he and his men came up empty-handed in the search for the one responsible for attacking Lief and Elmer Mongs, Montague could still influence the council.
The wax of the candles’ oozed from their holsters onto Montague’s table and down to the carpet. Each row between the bookshelves led to darkness. “Hello?” Indrid shouted.
There was a light on in Montague’s quarters. When Indrid walked in, Montague was sitting in the corner of the room, staring at Speaker Mongs, who was lying on a wet bed. Elmer was sleeping and covered with a thick lotion.
“Did he wake yet?” Indrid asked, staring at the speaker’s burns. Elmer’s shriveling skin was blackened.
“He has been in and out of consciousness,” said Montague.
“Has he said anything?”
Montague got up and started applying a clear gel across the speaker’s face. “He went on about a fire in the water that reached out and grabbed him. He kept saying that he saw a ghost. Onlookers had seen no fire, only Speaker Mongs running around screaming for help. When our guards found him, he was crying in a bath of mud.”
“A ghost?” Indrid asked. He took a moment—to think. “The fisherman appeared just as scared, as if he’d also seen something strange.”
“What happened at your meeting?”
Indrid wasn’t surprised that Montague knew about the secret meeting. Even though Montague had been forced to resign from the Ikarus council, he was still aware of every session and appointment with the king, even if it was undisclosed. “Alexandal is going to poison the Hart River if we don’t find the one who did this.”
“Do we even know where to start looking?” Montague asked.
“Eyes at Faux Tower saw a black mass hovering near the drop-off. It sounds like I’m hunting a ghost,” Indrid said nervously. “If we fail, please be prepared.”
“Good enough,” Montague said.
INDRID COLE raced alongside his men toward the cliffs of the Ikarus plateau, southeast of the hillside. The two moons were full and bright, emitting a tranquil glow. The gods seemed to be lighting the way.
At the edge of the field of which they were traveling, Indrid spotted someone standing within a band of trees. He and his soldiers chose to stop and investigate. As soon as they were close enough and the light of their lanterns lit the tree line, a cloaked man hurled out of the brush,
