Broken But Unburnt

Chapter 29 - Kazimir

Chapter 29: Kazimir

Makana Encampment, Towering Hills, Delos

The Karilish had made no further attempt at an attack since Kazimir had wiped the Idorian king's blood from his hands, walked out of his tent, and burned the entire battlefield with one single wave of white-hot, unending flame. Most of the Makana had left the camp at that point. Most. He was certain a few of the stragglers and some of the wounded had been incinerated by his power but he struggled to care in that moment.

Jareth was dead. His top generals, his best guards, and a quarter of the Makana army were dead. They had won the battle but suffered the most embarrassing failure in Idorian military history. What good was an army of magic in the hands of a man who had no idea how to wield it?

The old king had been a fool. The new one would be no different. Kazimir knew he had to act fast to avoid another inevitable massacre caused by the same bloodthirsty royal line.

"Bijan is coming," Zahra told him with a frown.

They had cleared out the command tent and taken control of it themselves. The Makana had set up more tents just outside of it and a triage area on the other end of the temporary encampment where they treated wounded from both sides.

Kazimir stood over Jareth's maps, the ones he had been obsessing over for days before his death. He stared down at the little battle figures without actually seeing them. There would be a time for grief. After this battle, after the war, after the Makana's place in this world was secure. When he felt peace, when he felt hope, when he felt safe. Not now.

"Kaz–" Zahra started again when he did not respond.

"I know," Kazimir interrupted her. "I know he's coming."

"He will be here within the day," Erol added.

"With the whole host of his army, no doubt," Zahra snapped.

Kazimir's gaze tipped up to them. He stayed where he was, leaning over the maps, and just watched them for a moment, thinking. It must have been unnerving, his stare, judging by the way they shifted uncomfortably on their feet and looked everywhere else but him. He couldn't blame them. He imagined he was quite the sight. Dark circles under his eyes from all the sleepless nights where he stayed awake to avoid the constant dreams of draining power, of weakness. Singed edges of his signature cloak, dust and dirt coating the tips of his hair, making it a dull gray, making him appear much older than he was. To them, he must look like he just rose from the grave and walked right into this tent.

"He will bring his army," Kazimir agreed and watched his lieutenant's flinch with discomfort at the thought of yet another fight after suffering such heavy losses already. "And in doing so, he will leave our capital utterly undefended."

Suddenly, they were all paying more attention, jaws dropping and eyes widening at what he was insinuating. Zahra's crossed arms dropped to her sides. Erol's inquisitive stare narrowed even further.

"What are you saying?" Erol asked, ever the cautious one.

"Bijan will abandon his assigned post monitoring the Karilish borders to avenge his father's death. He will think it is his duty as son and heir. Besides, he's bold and rash, he can hardly help such an emotional response. He will call for aide from the soldiers stationed in the capital and they will raise their banners and join him," Kazimir told them, pushing the little battle figurines around the board as he spoke. Trying not to think about how strange it was to position half of the red ones as the enemy and half as his own forces, he continued. "They will leave the capital vulnerable in their hopeless quest to fight a magical force twice the size of their remaining militia. All for one man's sense of honor. All for a dead king."