With that, I turn on my heel and depart, making for one of the nearby ale tents. Owyn and Zara may not be interested in carousing with me, but there might be some in this camp who are interested in having a good time.
Best to make every night count, I think, again reaching down to absently rub the spot where my hand should be. Never know which night may be my last.
Chapter Seven
Owyn
Feeling refreshed after a night in the Nightingale camp, Zara, Talon and I make our way into the city, leaving at first light. The rebels had lent us horses to use, which is an excellent change of pace from walking, and we manage to close the distance to the city gates in relatively little time.
The baths that were provided to us last night were nothing special, but after weeks spent in the desert – covered head to foot in sweat and dirt – it felt like an incredible luxury. The lukewarm water washed away the grime and the soap, though plain, was fragrant enough to make me finally feel clean. Unfortunately, we did not have fresh clothes to change into, a fact that Zara lamented on more than one occasion, but at least we no longer smell as bad as we did.
Still, we should probably find some clean clothing before any important meetings take place.
As we approach the white stone walls of Tarsys, one fact remains abundantly clear: the Pillar of Radiance, by far the tallest tower in the city, is no longer there. The absence is startling, the city seeming much less impressive than it had before, and even though we could see that the tower was missing many miles away, it hit truly hits home when we begin to approach the front gates of Tarsys.
“I wonder what happened,” Zara muses aloud, her brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and consternation. “What force could have completely destroyed the tower like that?”
“Nobody knows,” Talon replies, his tone unusually somber. “One minute the tower was there, and the next there was an explosion at the top. The whole thing came down a few minutes later.”
She shakes her head sadly. “How awful.”
Outside the gates an enormous crowd gathers, refugees from all walks of life clamoring to get inside of the city. They cluster on the road, hundreds of them shouting for the nervous-looking guards to let them in. As we draw near, we are forced to dismount.
“What’s going on?” I ask one of those gathered, a surly, balding man with a patch over his left eye.
“Damned knights won’t open the gates,” the man drawls angrily. “They say there isn’t enough room in the city. Don’t they know there are demons out here? They’ll kill us all if they don’t let us in!”
A man next to him lets out a frustrated, and vulgar, yell of agreement.
Together, we begin making our way through the crowd, leading our horses by the reigns.
It takes a while, but eventually we manage to force our way to the front. There, we find the portcullis down and the gates barred, a contingent of armor-clad knights standing watch outside. The visors on their helmets are down and their shields are up, swords and spears clutched anxiously in their gloved hands. One of them steps forward as we approach and raises his blade warily.
“Get back,” he warns, eyes narrowing beneath his helm.
“Easy, mate,” Talon says, lifting both hands to show he is unarmed. “This one’s a Conclave mage and this one’s a ranger like me. We’re with Elias Keen. We need to get through and give him some important information.”
I can see the uncertainty enter his stance, his sword point lowering just a bit as he seems to consider Talon’s words. Then, something rather unexpected happens.
“Talon Meacham!” One of the other knights exclaims. “What are you doing on this side of the wall? I thought you’d be holed up in some tavern somewhere, drinking yourself silly!”
Talon squints at the man who spoke, then smiles broadly. “Is that you under all that metal, Gavrin? I hardly recognized you without a barmaid on your lap!”
The speaker, Gavrin, nods toward the knight questioning us. “These ones are clear to enter, captain. They are who they say they are, though I’ve never known a ranger to drink quite so much as this one.”
“Fine,” the captain says, stepping to the side. “But be quick about it! I don’t want this rabble getting any ideas about pushing through.”
We lead our horses past the line of knights, Talon shrugging sheepishly at Zara and me. “Ale is the great equalizer, my friends. Nightingale, ranger, knight... in a tavern, all are the same.”
Zara rolls her eyes and mutters something derogatory under her breath.
Metal grinds on metal as the portcullis is raised, the great gates of Tarsys swinging inward to allow us through. We quickly pass the portal, and when we are on the other side, the mechanisms cause the enormous doors to slam shut behind us.
I take in the scene before me, amazed at how much the capital has changed since the last time we were here.
A cloud of disquiet seems to hang over the entire place, mirroring, in a way, the dark layer of clouds that seem to have covered the entire kingdom. The wide boulevards, once teeming with all manner of people, are oddly deserted, the storefronts empty and the windows shuttered. Small groups of huddled figures move through the streets like packs of wild dogs, eying everyone around them suspiciously as they swiftly make their way around the city. Even the stones beneath our feet seem drab and washed out, everything covered in a dull layer of near-melted slush.
“Light,” Zara whispers, her eyes brimming with sadness. “What has become of my city?”
“This isn’t even the worst of it,” Talon replies softly, leading us forward down the street. “In the poorer parts of the city, riots have broken out. Many of the common folk are accusing the nobles of hoarding food.”
“Winter has only just begun,” I point out, following Talon while keeping an eye on our surroundings. “Surely there is still plenty of food to go around.”
Talon gives me a half shrug. “Crises make people do crazy things. Maybe they’re worried about the demons, or the presence of all the refugees. The point is, distrust has spread like a plague throughout this city, and I think that it’s only going to get worse.”
An uneasy silence settles over us as we walk through the city, passing neighborhood after derelict neighborhood. The king’s army appears to be out in force, armed patrols nearly as common as regular citizens in the open. I also notice a fine layer of dust that seems to cling to everything. Must be left over from the collapse of the tower, I reason. That must have been a spectacular fall.
As we draw nearer to the center of the city, we begin to see even more signs of the Pillar's destruction. Rubble and chunks of stone have been pushed to the sides of the street like refuse, pointedly ignored by everyone passing by. The signs are everywhere – a broken window here, a caved-in roof there – the devastation growing increasingly less subtle the further we go.
Finally, we seem to enter a neighborhood that had been completely decimated by the collapse. Many of the buildings here are absolutely crushed, reduced to little more than piles of debris, while others are left half-standing, broken skeletons of what they used to be.
There is an oddly reverent feeling here, like one would find in a graveyard. The few people we passed coming here seem to avoid this place, as if the memory of such a terrible calamity is still a raw and aching wound.
I turn to see that Zara is silently weeping, tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks as she gazes about the ruined district.
"Such destruction," she says, voice barely above a whisper. "Is this what we can expect from the R'Laar in the coming days?"
I reach down and take her hand, giving her fingers a comforting squeeze. "Not if we can help it." Turning to Talon, I say, "Come on. Let's get out of here."
He nods silently and leads us on, taking us to a slightly less destroyed part of the city.
"It's not much further, now," he says after several minutes, his voice regaining some of its characteristic cheer. "The mages have set up shop in the Academy, now that �
� well, you know. I guess they figured it would be a good place to run their operations."
This seems to brighten Zara's mood. "The Academy? Light, it feels like I haven't been there in ages."
I smile, grateful to see her spirits lifted.
We begin traveling through a more affluent part of the city, the streets showing few, if any, signs of destruction. Despite the dire circumstances, everything appears well-kept and private security seems to be doing a good job of keeping the neighborhoods clear of riffraff. It isn’t long after that we approach a large complex of old stone buildings surrounded by a finely-wrought iron fence. Large hedges and gardens fill the space between the buildings, and brown shoots of ivy crawl up the outside walls.
As we approach the entrance to the mage Academy, we immediately find ourselves surrounded by guards – both armor-wearing soldiers and blue-clad mages.
“Halt,” one of the lead mages commands, a glowing blue crystal held in one of his hands. “Who goes there?”
Zara steps forward, holding her head high and looking every bit the regal Magus her title ascribes. “I am Zara Dennel, Magus of the Conclave and Seeker to High Magus Sylvania Holdyn.”
Several of the mage guards eye one another uncertainly, while the other non-magical guards seem to relax somewhat.
“Seeker Dennel,” the lead mage says, as if trying out the name on his tongue. “I’ve heard of you before.”
“We have come to confer with the High Magus and the Circle,” she goes on, tone becoming imperious. “There are many things of great importance that must be shared with them.”
Her request is met only with silence, a kind of awkwardness hanging heavy in the air. Finally, the lead mage clears his throat, his eyes growing softer. “You must have come from far away, Seeker. Much has changed in your absence.” He pauses, as if he is unsure about how to proceed, then continues on. “I regret to inform you that Sylvania Holdyn and most of the Circle has been killed. Their remains were laid to rest only yesterday.”
“EVEN AT A TIME LIKE this, the mages live in luxury.”
Talon lounges on a plush couch lined with fur, surrounded by small, decorative pillows covered with embroidery. After only a minute of sitting down, he has sunken so far into the stuffing that it looks rather comical.
“They’ve maintained the Arc for centuries,” I reply, thumbing through a book filled with strange symbols. “That whole time, they’ve been at the top society. Now that it’s gone, they probably want to hang on to as much of their former lifestyle as possible.”
Talon sniffs. “Hells... this is why the common people are rioting.”
After arriving at the Academy, we were immediately ushered into one of the dormitory wings. Zara went off with a group of mages to refresh herself and find some new robes, while Talon and I were given some food and sent to a waiting room. I was also given a fresh green tunic and a pair of doeskin trousers, my ranger cloak and other clothes taken to the launderer for cleaning.
Before she left, Zara had seemed distraught. Although she held her composure well in front of the other mages, I could tell that inside she was deeply saddened by the news of the High Magus’ death. The news had taken a toll on her.
This is a lot for her to take in, I think, frowning slightly as I examine the symbols. This was her home, after all. Many people she knew are probably dead now.
As I stand there, staring at the book and contemplating what I can do to help Zara, the door to the waiting room opens and several figures step inside. All are men, heavily armed though no weapons are drawn, and each of them wears the symbol of the Nightingales – a silver bird in flight sewn over dark fabric.
Talon leaps to his feet with some difficulty, having to extricate himself from the cushions, and I close the book shut with a snap, looking up to regard the men.
One of them, a man with a puckered scar on his cheek, steps forward and extends a hand. "Sorry to keep you waiting. We've been in meetings all day. My name is Cedric Gallow, second in command to Protector Elias Keen."
Talon and I shake his hand in turn.
"Well met," I say formally, meeting his steely gaze. "I'm Owyn Lund, and this is my friend, Talon Meachum."
"Hello, Cedric," Talon says with a smirk.
The Nightingale gives him a guarded look before turning to me. "Yes, I am well acquainted with Apprentice Meachum. He has somewhat of a... reputation around the camp."
I glance over at Talon, who merely shrugs apologetically.
"At any rate," Cedric continues, "I'm told that you were once Elias' apprentice. Is that true?"
"Yes," I reply gruffly. "He and I know each other well. In fact, I need to speak with him. We just came from the wastes, and there is important information that he must be made aware of."
"The Protector has much to deal with," the captain says, crossing his arms in front of his leather-armored chest. "With everything that has happened, he has become an extremely busy man."
"It has to do with the R'Laar," I respond bluntly. "They are moving to strike, which puts all of us in grave danger. I need to confer with him so that we can come up with a plan of defense."
Cedric seems to consider my words, his eyes growing uncertain in light of this new information. Finally, he gives his head a single curt nod. "Aye... that does seem like the sort of thing he would like to know. And it just so happens that you're in luck. Protector Keen will be meeting later this evening with the mages of the Conclave and some of the most prominent nobles in Tarsynium. That may be the perfect place for you to share your information."
I glance over at Talon, who is grinning broadly.
"That'll work," I reply simply.
"Excellent," Cedric says with a tone of finality. "I will notify them at once. For now, these chambers are yours to use. An hour before sundown, we will come and escort you to the meeting chamber. Agreed?"
"Agreed," the two of us respond in unison.
He nods his head again, then turns on his heel and departs, the other Nightingales close behind him. As the last one leaves, he pulls to door shut behind him.
"Well," Talon says as soon as they are gone, "we have a few hours until the meeting. What do you say we spend it at a nearby tavern? You still owe me some quality drinking time, my friend."
I let out a long sigh. "Alright," I reply. "But not too much. I don't want to stumble into the meeting drunk and smelling of alcohol."
Talon slaps my back and lets out a guffaw. "Oh, come on! That would be hilarious!"
Together, we step outside of the Academy grounds and begin making our way into the city.
Chapter Eight
Zara
I take a deep breath as I prepare to enter the antechamber, the location where the great meeting is to take place. Around me, the remnants of the Circle gather together, a handful of mages who had not been crushed by the collapse of the Pillar of Radiance. Glancing around, I cannot help but feel a little disheartened by the depressingly small number of them.
Roth is there, standing close beside me, along with other magisters whom I have not become very well-acquainted. One is named Iver, a bearded fellow with a large, bulbous nose. Another is a woman with long, white hair named Shielea. The third is a mousy woman named Sala, her face covered in an excessive amount of makeup.
Four, I think, heartbroken. Only four remain of the entire Circle. Light, give us wisdom as we go into this meeting.
Giving each of them an encouraging nod, I push open the doors and walk inside, my new silken robes swishing around my slippered feet.
Upon entering the antechamber, I find myself surrounded by a familiar scene. Long, circular rows of terraced seating surrounds a lecture platform in the middle of the room, forming a sort of amphitheater designed for Academy lectures. Now, instead of being filled with initiates, it is only half-filled with an assortment of different people, marked by the various colors of their faction. On one side of the room the Nightingales gather, their dark cloaks blending in with the dusky wood of the polished desk
s and chairs. Owyn and Talon are there as well, sitting together down near the front. On the other side, opposite of the Nightingales, members of the royal house sit clustered together, the bright reds and golds of their outfits making them stand out like peacocks. They regard the rebels with looks of outright hostility. Other nobles linger nearby as well, wearing the mottled livery of the different houses of Tarsys, and several armed guards stand watching over the factions, a sense of uneasiness hanging heavy in the air.
Together, me and the magisters make our way down the steps of the amphitheater, sitting in an unoccupied section of the lecture hall near the wooden platform.
When we finally sit down, Elias stands up from his place among the Nightingales and approaches the dais, his face as grim and drawn. He gives me a little nod as he turns to address the hall, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a small smile upon seeing me. He is dressed much as he always has – simple clothing beneath leather armor, a green and grey ranger cloak hanging from his broad shoulders.
"Rulers of Tarsynium," he declares, deep voice reverberating through the chamber, "you have been invited to this meeting because you represent a certain faction within the kingdom. You are the last leaders of men in these uncertain times and possess a vested interest in the preservation of your people – an attribute that we all share despite our many differences."
I am instantly struck by how much Elias has seemingly changed over the last several months. His bearing is no longer gruff and predatory, but almost regal. Before, I would be lucky to hear a complete sentence out of him, I think to myself. Now, he is apparently an orator and a commander. Curious, how the mantle of leadership can change a man.
He continues. "The Nightingales, in league with the Conclave, have called this meeting that we might discuss the many challenges we now face. It is up to us, in this room, to unite under this common cause: to ensure that humanity survives the coming days."
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