I knew the King was mad, but to declare war on myths was simply insane.

"This must be a joke," said the man standing next to me. He spat on the ground beside him, barely missing my shoe. I inched away from him. "King's declaring war on people who don't bloody exist."

"The Magi do exist," a woman argued. "They've just hidden themselves."

"For five hundred years?"

I pushed further into the crowd to get a better look at the sign that had garnered so much attention. The parchment was nailed against a wall and stamped with the royal lion seal. It read: "His Majesty, King Hector Durand, has declared that the Magi, also known as the Three Ancients, are henceforth enemies of the country. They are to be captured, alive or dead. Those who accomplish this task or offer new information concerning the Magi will be rewarded handsomely. So sayeth the King."

My thoughts whirled as I backed out of the crowd and headed down the street. The Magi, the Three Ancients, the Wise Men: they were all names for what was supposedly a trio of the most powerful mages in the world. Legend said they were immortal. Others spoke of their might, how one Magi alone could calm a storm or ground a mountain to dust. Tales of their heroic deeds were known throughout the continent.

But that was all they were. Fairy tales. Folklore. Stories told to young children to teach them morals about respecting your elders and being kind to your neighbor. And if they really did exist, surely they would have come to stop the King from slaughtering hundreds of people.

Or not, I thought grimly. It was smarter to stay hidden. Better to not attract the attention of a king who had banished magic, beheaded mages and wanted you dead.

I turned a corner and found myself in front of a large circular building. Its entrance was marked with a decorative archway that depicted swordsmen fighting each another, blades locked in combat, expressions fierce and brutal. The Arena was a popular attraction in the city of Petram, with its warrior duels and betting rings. One of the largest buildings in town, it paled in comparison to the one at the capital. Or so I'd heard.

I followed the curved wall to an entrance at the back, where there stood a bored-looking guard. He waved me in, recognizing my face and the satchel I carried. 

"Sol, did you hear the news?" Lin asked as I entered. Lin was a warrior master, which meant he recruited and trained warriors for the Arena. "The king's outlawed the Magi. The Magi!"

"I heard," I said, though my response was smothered by Lin's laughter. 

"S'crazy. First he outlaws magic, which barely anyone has anyway, and now the Magi. What's he going to do next, outlaw demons?" Lin shook his head and let out an amused grunt. "Anyway, I've got a fresh new face for you to treat." He led me towards a bench where a young man sat holding a cloth to his shoulder that was wet with blood. He looked up when we approached and quirked an eyebrow in my direction, brown hair falling in his face. 

"David, this is Sol," Lin introduced. David's gray eyes remained curious as he watched me. "Sol's going to patch you up. Don't make any trouble, you hear me? I'll be back." Lin gave me a hearty thump on the shoulder which, coming from the muscular man, was akin to a heavy blow. I staggered forward, the wind knocked out of me.

"Nice to meet you," David said with a smile. "I'd shake your hand, but..." He made a gesture with his free hand, indicating the blood on his fingers.

"It's fine." I set down my bag and emptied it of its contents: a salve for wounds, a waterskin, a small medic's kit, and clean bandages. 

"You seem awfully young," I said. David looked about my age, perhaps a little older, but still far younger than any gladiator I'd seen.

"I could say the same to you," David replied, gray eyes glittering. 

"Young for a warrior," I clarified, then gestured to the bloodstained cloth at David's shoulder. "Remove that, please."

"Well, you look young for a medic," he said with an impish grin, letting his hand fall. I took the waterskin and poured its contents over his wound, which wiped the smile off his face. The wound, when I leaned in to examine it, revealed itself to be a straight cut, not deep enough to warrant stitches. David watched as I applied a salve, then bandaged his arm tightly.

"Thanks," he said once I was done. Then he looked behind me and his expression changed. "Sol, move out of the —"

Water cascaded over us, splattering across the floor and the wall. I froze in shock, then turned to glare at the two figures behind me. They gave me a look that wasn't entirely apologetic, but it was far kinder than the one they gave David.

"Oops," The one on the left said, letting the bucket in his hands fall to the floor. The other's soon followed suite. Anger and humiliation boiled in my gut, a heat that spread from my chest to my fingertips. I opened my mouth to give them a piece of my mind, but David spoke before I could. 

"Ah, Sol, may I introduce you to the two biggest sore losers in the country," David said in a wry voice. "The loser on the left is Ezra. The loser on the right is Haviland. They can't win in a fair fight, so they're trying to pick an unfair one."

Ezra and Haviland were warriors I knew only by reputation as unbeaten champions. Ezra was leaner than I imagined, but there was a cunning, malicious gleam in his eye. Haviland's bulk was pure muscle. I found it hard to believe that David had beaten either of them in the Arena, but the murderous expressions they wore suggested that David had been telling the truth.

"You're the one winning unfair fights, throwing sand in peoples' faces," Ezra spat. He jabbed a finger in David's direction. "You better watch your back," he warned, and left with Haviland following close behind. After a moment of listening to their retreating steps, David gave a chuckle that ended in a sigh.

"So much for not causing trouble," he said. Water dripped from the ends of his hair. "I'm sorry, Sol. They shouldn't have involved you." 

"It's fine," I said, though really I was furious. I began shoving now wet bandages back in my satchel when I noticed David gazing at me curiously, brows furrowed. 

"What?" I asked, a little irritated.

"You're, uh, no longer soaked." 

Confused, I looked down at my clothes. They were dry. I touched my hair and it was dry, too. My gaze drifted to the bandage in my hand and I watched, horrified, as it dried before my eyes, steaming lightly. David's eyes widened. 

I had to leave, now.  I shoved everything back in my bag as quickly as I could and stood, hooking the satchel over my shoulder.

"Sol, wait —"

"Try not to move your arm too much." Words spilled from my mouth in a rush. My fingers tugged at the knot of David's bandage, tightening it in a minute adjustment. The material steamed at my touch and I pulled back as if burned. "If you need anything else, I —"

I'll be back in a few days is what I usually finished with. I swallowed the words down. "— ask Lin. Tell him I'm sorry, but I'm leaving early."

I ran. I ignored David calling my name and bolted past the startled Arena guard. I sprinted through the streets of Petram until my lungs burned and my legs ached and all I could think of was needing to rest. I kept running until I could no longer feel the hot energy that thrummed under my skin and at my fingertips. The buzzing warmth subsided to a hum, and then disappeared entirely. Exhausted, and with the sun lowering on the horizon, I began my slow trek home.

Home was on the edge of town, an apothecary that belonged to my mentor, Luke. He was the one who made the salves and ointments that I delivered to the warriors. Lin claimed that Luke's concoctions worked like magic on his warriors' injuries, and I was inclined to agree. The wounds  I treated never festered after being smeared with Luke's smelly salves.

By now it was dark, and Luke would have expected me back from my afternoon errand hours ago. I slipped in through the back door of the apothecary and the scent of dried herbs flooded my nose, a soothing mix of sage and rosemary and spices. Usually I was tasked with closing the shop but in my absence, Luke had done it. I crept towards the staircase that led to my room, stepping quietly so as not to wake Luke.

"Did you get lost?"

Guiltily, I turned around. Luke's dark eyes were hard, his expression stern. The little moonlight that shone through the window highlighted the silver strands in his black hair. His tone when he spoke was scathing. "Or did something else keep you for three hours?"

"Luke, I'm sorry," I said, "I had to deal with something urgent"

"Such as?" There was no give in his voice. I bit at my bottom lip.

"Did you hear the King's new law?" I hedged. Luke's lip twitched.

"I did, but don't change the subject." I should have known that tactic wouldn't work on Luke. Luke considered me for a moment, then let out a sigh. "I don't know if you've seen yourself, but  you look like you're dead on your feet. If you don't want to explain why, then fine. I won't push. But you had a responsibility and you neglected it."

"I'm sorry, Luke, I really am."

"I don't care how sorry you are," Luke cut in bluntly, "I care about how you're going to make it up to me." His mouth made a grim line. "A week picking herbs."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Your punishment. You'll spend a week picking plants in the forest, drying them, grinding them — whatever I ask, really. I'm going to work you to the bone." Luke raised an eyebrow, daring me to argue. Then added, as if he'd read my mind, "And I'll have you picking nettle, too."

A groan escaped me. "You're heartless," I said, though I knew I'd gotten off lightly. 

Luke's dark eyes glittered as he smiled. "It's part of my charm," he replied. He laid his hand on my shoulder, the gesture both gentle and firm. "Now get some rest — you'll need all your energy for tomorrow."

Luke retreated to his room, the door closing with a soft click, and I let out a quiet sigh in the empty space he left behind. We'd done this dance before: There were things we simply didn't want to discuss with others, and we had a silent agreement not to press for answers. I worried every time Luke neared that line, even though I knew he wouldn't cross it.

I picked my way up the narrow staircase with the little light the moon offered. My room was  a tiny attic that sat above the apothecary and had been used for storage before it was converted into a bedroom. The ceiling sloped down at two corners, making the already cramped room seem even smaller. Luckily, I had few personal items, so the space was cozy rather than crowded. 

I set my satchel down on a small desk I'd pushed against one wall, then slumped on my bed. Today had been a disaster, I thought as I closed my eyes. Intermingled thoughts of mad kings and warriors and magic following me into the darkness of sleep.

~*~

Author Notes

Hi, it's Salem here. Thanks for checking out Crownbreaker! If you enjoyed this chapter, give it a vote to let me know! I'm always looking for feedback, so comments and criticism are welcome and appreciated.

Discussion

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