“Those soldiers were supposed to march out through the city gates this morning,” frowned Alex. “They are needed against Team Miram.”
“They may be needed,” replied Jenneva, “but they will not be leaving the city. The Rangers and the Red Swords will have to manage without them.”
“Four-thousand men against twenty-thousand?” balked Alex. “Even if they are successful against such odds, there will not be enough of our men left to form a bucket brigade. The Rangers and the Red Swords will cease to exist. Does Arik know what that will mean when Team Mya arrives at our walls?”
“He has no choice, Alex,” retorted Jenneva. “He cannot send sick men into battle.”
“And what about mages?” asked Alex. “There are twenty-four battle mages in Team Miram. Are our men supposed to go up against them, too?”
Jenneva sighed again. “I don’t know, Alex. Right now we have every available mage working as healers. Even the queen spends long days in the infirmary. We just don’t have the number of mages that the Federation has.”
Alex turned from his wife and began pacing the floor. Jenneva knew her husband well enough to understand what was going through his mind.
“Before you go rushing off to single-handedly defeat the enemy,” she said sympathetically, “talk to Arik. See if he can’t spare some mages to accompany you.”
Alex stopped pacing and turned to look at his wife. “I would be happy if he allowed me just one mage. Come with me, Jenneva.”
Jenneva’s brow creased heavily, and her gaze dropped to the floor. “Defeating the enemy serves no purpose if all of the citizens die of the plague. Get your leave from Arik and go join your brothers on the battlefield. I will join you as soon as we get the populace out of danger.”
Alex nodded sadly and embraced his wife in silence. He understood her dedication to healing the people as much as she understood his need to be on the battlefield. For several minutes, neither one of them spoke. They stood in a silent embrace as if savoring their last time together. Abruptly, Alex broke the embrace and kissed Jenneva.
“Hurry north,” he said softly as he turned and left the room.
The walk to the king’s study was not a long one. As Alex arrived outside the door, he met Tanya coming from the other direction. She looked as tired as Jenneva had, and he smiled weakly at her.
“Is there any hope in sight?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Father,” the queen replied with a shake of her head. “I find that I am seeing the same patients over and over again. I treat them and they get well, but they come back again, sometimes in only a matter of hours. It is unlike any illness I have ever seen. I also question its contagiousness. Not a single helper in the infirmary has contracted the disease from the patients. It is weird.”
“And are all of the patients irritable?” asked Alex.
“Without exception,” nodded the queen.
Sudden shouting from beyond the door caused both father and daughter to turn towards the door with concerned looks on their face.
“Has the king been shouting all morning?” the queen asked one of the guards stationed at the door.
“This is the first time that we have heard him,” answered the guard. “Should we investigate?”
“No.” The queen shook her head. “My father and I will see what the trouble is. Open the door.”
The guard dutifully opened the door to the king’s study and the queen promptly entered the room. Alex followed closely behind her, and the guard closed the door. King Arik stood before his desk, regally dressed as if he were making a public appearance. The red-headed illusionist from Pog stood on the other side of the room. King Arik turned towards the door when it opened, his face a mask of rage.
“We are busy here,” snapped the king. “This is no time for social calls.”
Queen Tanya stared at the king and then at Balamor. The gaunt mage merely shrugged. The queen turned to her left and walked until her husband was directly between her and Balamor. Alex halted just inside the door. His eyes flickered from the illusionist to the king, but he said nothing.
“What is going on, Arik?” Queen Tanya asked in a disarming tone.
“What is going on?” snapped the king. “What do you think is going on? I am trying to deliver a speech to the citizens, but you seem intent on disrupting it. Leave us.”
“When did this start?” Alex asked Balamor.
King Arik whirled towards Alex with a hateful glare. “I said leave,” he shouted. “That includes you, Alex.”
The Knight of Alcea ignored the king. He stood staring at Balamor, waiting for an answer to his question.
“Just a few moments ago,” answered the mage from Pog. “We were making great progress and then I suggested that the king dress appropriately. His mood turned black almost instantly.”
“I will not be ignored!” shouted the king. “Guards!”
The door started to open and then slammed shut with a force that shook the wall. Alex glanced at Tanya, and the queen nodded that she was responsible for closing the door. He turned his gaze back to the king, his eyes lingering on the king’s new boots. Suddenly, Alex’s eyebrow rose in wonder.
“Take off your boots, Arik,” demanded the Knight of Alcea.
The king shouted for the guards again as he tried to pull the Sword of Heavens from its sheath on his back. The sword flew out of its sheath and hovered near the ceiling. The king turned towards his wife with an angry glare. That is when the Knight of Alcea struck. Alex raced across the room and pushed the king onto the desk, pinning him with the weight of his body. Balamor rushed to the king and pulled the boots off the king’s dangling feet. Alex knew that the boots were off without having to turn and look. The king’s angry facade immediately broke, and the king looked up into Alex’s face with wonder and confusion. Alex released the king and stepped back.
“It is the boots,” announced Alex. “Have the guards bring Prince Oscar here.”
Tanya nodded as she gently lowered the Sword of Heavens to the floor. She walked towards the door before releasing her hold on it. The door burst open, and the queen stared at twenty Red Swords with their swords drawn.
“Summon Prince Oscar immediately,” demanded the queen, “and admit no one else.”
The guards peered past the queen and saw the king sitting on the edge of the desk. One of them ran off to get the prince, but the others stood unmoving, waiting for the king’s personal dismissal.
“Close the door,” commanded the king with a dismissive wave, “and send the others back to their posts.”
The guards sheathed their swords and hesitated only briefly before complying with the king’s orders. Tanya turned away from the door and walked to Balamor. She took one of the boots from the gaunt mage and examined it closely.
“Are we sure it is the boots?” she asked with hesitancy.
Alex pulled his sword and handed it to the king. He then took the boots from Balamor and Tanya and moved to a chair to remove his own boots.
“Do what you must to restrain me,” Alex said to his daughter. “I want to feel this effect for myself.”
Alex pulled the king’s boots on. At first he felt no different than before. He was ready to dismiss his hunch when he suddenly felt a tightening of his jaw. His hands clenched into fists and his whole body began to stiffen. He quickly tore the boots off.
“You are sweating,” remarked the king.
“I cannot imagine a pair of boots so hideous,” Alex responded as he wiped his brow.
“Interesting,” remarked Balamor. “Yet you were able to easily remove them?”
Alex shook his head. “I had to exert great will to remove them. It is as if they knew that I understood their threat.”
Prince Oscar entered the room and hesitated upon entry. He glanced around the room wondering what great urgency required his immediate presence. Prince Midge sat perched on his shoulder.