A Clash of Magics by Guy Antibes (read this if txt) 📕

“It only required a sip of magic,” Volst said, “and the object that projected the spell glowed green. They should see if the glow persists in the sunlight.”

Trevor nodded. “I’m sure we will need to know all kinds of things about the effect. It does mean that I can’t go alone to confront King Worto,” he said. “I can’t use the charms.”

“But then, you don’t need one,” Volst said. “I will, if we are to beard the lion in his den.”

“Who is the lion?” Trevor asked. “King Worto or Plissaki the Maskumite?”

~

“I’ll be giving you moral support,” Brother Yvan said as they rode westward through the Ginsterian countryside.

“With my ability to travel with a partner, you don’t have to come all this way,” Trevor said.

“It’s better that I don’t stray too far from Reena. She wanted to see Ginster since we had left her behind in Jilgrath,” Brother Yvan said. “Don’t worry. Everyone knows how to take care of themselves.”

They threaded their way through a string of army camps for the last half day to the River Fuler, which made up the eastern border with Fuleria. When Trevor dismounted, he walked through a short stretch of woods and came out on one side of the bridge that spanned the river.

“Why don’t the Ginsterians destroy the bridge?” Volst asked the officer who had interrogated the pair of them. The Presidonian ambassador hadn’t made the trip.

“Too much trade,” The officer said. “The Fulerians aren’t stupid. Anyway, we have traps built into the road for half a mile on our side. All we have to do is withdraw and watch them destroy themselves.”

Trevor solemnly nodded while Volst looked excited.

“They can ford the river at another location,” Trevor said. “That is what I would do.”

The officer nodded. “They can try. I imagine they’ve done the same on their side, so the bridge stays intact. Goods are still crossing from one country to the other.”

People did what they had to to survive, Trevor thought. “Volst and I will head across.”

“You aren’t going to wait until tomorrow?”

Trevor shook his head. “There might be Presidonian assassins in your army who might want to try something if I wait.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Let’s find a place you can retreat to,” Brother Yvan said. “I have most things we will need to keep you and Volst alive.”

They turned back and returned behind a herd of ten cows on their way to Ginster. Trevor hoped he wasn’t going to be slaughtered like the cows when he turned around and headed in the opposite direction.

Brother Yvan found a suitable place at the Ginsterian army camp’s edge to wait for Trevor’s return.

The last thing that Trevor wanted was to have to teleport back to Ginster. He’d lose Snowflake, and he might forfeit his domain. He took a deep breath and raised the white flag that the officer had given him.

Once they crossed the bridge, a squad of soldiers surrounded them, making them wait while they summoned a senior officer.

“I’d like to be taken to King Worto. I assume he still is in command at the borders,” Trevor said.

“You are well informed. Follow me,” the newly-arrived officer said. “You look a little young to be negotiating the Ginsterian surrender.”

“There is no surrender,” Trevor said, “since there is no war. Both sides are vigilantly guarding their respective borders as far as I can see. I bring a message to King Worto from the Dryden seer headquarters.”

“You don’t look much like a cleric,” the officer said, not very impressed by Trevor’s youth or appearance.

Trevor pulled the document that the prime and the head seer had produced for him.

“Trevor Arcwin? Should I have heard of you?” the officer asked, looking up at Trevor.

Volst sighed. “It is a tedious story. I’ve heard it too many times. Just let us proceed.”

The officer looked disgruntled by Volst’s dismissive attitude, but he mounted his horse. “Follow me. I don’t know if the king will entertain an audience.”

King Worto held court in a lavish tent surrounded by other, smaller, elegant tents. Despite the officer’s doubts, Trevor and Volst stood in the king’s presence after giving up their weapons.

“Arcwin. I thought I left you behind in Bassington,” Worto said.

“I am now Duke Arcwin of Listenwell.”

Worto sat up straighter. “You are the one who cleaned up Parkintown?”

Trevor nodded. “I have a much better man in charge, who is more honest than Regent Summer,” Trevor said. “I’m not here to discuss matters of fealty,” he said.

Worto looked down at the document the officer had given to the king. “This is an impressive document. They proclaim you Dryden’s Messenger. I know a little bit of history. Are the seers of Dryden lined up against me?”

Trevor looked around the tent but didn’t see Gareeze Plissaki. “I have news for your ears only.”

Worto narrowed his eyes and then fingered the edge of the document. “Out, all of you,” Worto said.

“I come with a gift,” Trevor said.

“All I want are Listenwell’s taxes to fund my army,” Worto said.

Trevor pulled out a charm and put it in the king’s outstretched hand. “This is a charm. It won’t harm you, but it will allow you to see your real enemies.”

Worto clutched the charm in his hand. “What kind of nonsense is this? Who are you to tell me who my enemies are? Aren’t you my enemy, representing Ginster?”

“As I asked the officer who escorted me here, are you at war with Ginster?”

Worto narrowed his eyes. “War is not declared. Perhaps I am waiting for the right moment.”

“And perhaps Ginster is doing the same,” Trevor said.

Gareeze Plissaki paused as he walked in and realized that Trevor was in the tent.

“Just put a small pulse of power into the