Page 37 of To Kill a King
Garrick frowned, coming to a stop. Tilting his head to the side, he studied Malkov as he stroked his chin. Finally, he pushed his glasses back up his nose and nodded. “An interesting challenge. I suppose that would depend on the nature of said magic?”
Hmm. Malkov peered at him. “Elves. Specifically, something that would allow a wearer to pass through their forests unhindered.” It was past time to take the fight to them, deep into the heart of their territory.
The artificer stared off into space for several heartbeats. “That would be challenging… it’s never been done before.”
Malkov bit back a snarl. Of course it hadn’t. If it had, he’d have wiped out the elves long ago.
“Are you planning an invasion, Your Majesty? Will we need to come up with something that will protect the entire army?”
Chewing on his inner cheek, Malkov shook his head. As tempting as that would be, it wasn’t practical. “No. Just a small group, no more than three to five people, I would imagine.”
A surgical strike force armed with whisperers would be more likely to succeed than a full-scale attack.
The corner of his lips pulled up into a smile as Garrick nodded. “Very well, Majesty. I’ll get started right away and let you know what I come up with.”
“Excellent.” Malkov guided the man through the door into the hallway. “Oh, and Garrick.”
“Yes?” The man turned.
“This request is both time sensitive and secret. Work quickly and tell no one.”
He bowed and strode down the hall.
Malkov sighed. The order was a tall one, something never before attempted. But if anyone in the realm could pull it off, it would be the Master Artificer. Hopefully, if all went well, he’d have Aliya’s magic and the means to destroy the heart of the elven territory before the next season.
Chapter 10
Elessan
As the moon crested the treetops, Elessan awoke to Zadé’s snoring. Aliya rolled over, wrapped in her new bedroll, sound asleep.
He gave Zadé, who was supposed to be on guard, an evil glare, straining his eyes and ears for any signs of the Red Cloaks. Hearing nothing unusual, he stretched and headed into the forest to do a quick check of the campsite.
Valek. He’d given Zadé the first watch because he’d figured that shift would be easier for her than waking up in the middle of the night for the morning one. He ran a hand through sleep-tousled hair. Why did he have to be the only responsible adult here? Pulling his hood up to hide his ears from anyone who might see them, he slunk into the woods.
His circle around the periphery of the encampment revealed nothing more concerning than a few rabbit and pheasant tracks. At least no one prowled the area who shouldn’t. He walked the hundred yards to the overlook with the view of town they’d enjoyed last night.
The houses below were dark this early in the morning. The ruins from the tavern smoldered, but the adjacent buildings had escaped unscathed. He would arrange for some coin to make its way to the tavern’s owner to help defray rebuilding expenses. Aliya would likely want to do the same. He could make the donation after he handled the rest of his business.
What was Zadé going to do with her drinking hole in flames? As irresponsible as she was, they owed her their lives. Her fighting style was unconventional, to say the least, but effective.
Her family, the Brightleafs, were renowned for their intellectual pursuits and had produced the foremost experts in the fields of the occult, astrology and economics. Somewhere along the way, Zadé Brightleaf fell off her family’s scholarly wagon. That story promised to be quite colorful, if she ever chose to enlighten him.
Across town near the river, a crane squealed as it swung over a boat docked at port.
He squinted through the early morning haze as the first coffin being offloaded swung into view. No doubt casualties in the latest skirmish. Teenagers no older than Aliya wearing freshly dyed black and red uniforms marched single file up the gangway; new recruits to replace the dead.
An unnerving ache settled in his chest. Shaking his head, he sighed. He could end this all, one way or another, before those recruits returned home in coffins, too, if he turned Aliya over to Princess Tsara and her father. Or if he snuck into the castle and killed King Malkov himself.
He snorted. The royal security was superb—no elf had managed to get close enough to the royal family to kill them since Elessan’s predecessor had managed to assassinate the former king and queen, losing their life in the process. Malkov Cerel seemed to have a second sense when it came to rooting out spies and assassins in his court, likely nurtured by his parents’ untimely deaths. Elessan wasn’t foolish enough to assume he’d succeed when so many more talented elves had failed.
Soft footsteps approached through the grass behind him.
He smiled, still looking out over the village. A comfortable warmth spread through his body. “I thought you were asleep.”
Aliya came to stand beside him, surveying the valley below. “You didn’t come back. And Zadé snores.”
“Your tracking skills are improving.”