by Dan Zangari
This Iltar couldn’t be the Unspoken One—the Harbinger of Cheserith—could he? No, he couldn’t. Her family had watched over the hiss’thraks for centuries. They were all accounted for, weren’t they?
Nevertheless, this man was wielding the power of the gods, and it manifested so quickly—faster than any incantations in any of the magical tongues. Perhaps he was the Unspoken One… but that implied she and her family had somehow evoked the displeasure of their God. Had Lord Cheserith bestowed his power on someone not of their lineage?
That notion was blasphemous.
He can’t be the Harbinger… she thought. Raedina would prove he wasn’t. In that moment, her hatred for Iltar swelled. This was a man who had invaded their home, stolen their family’s birthright, and mocked their God.
She would deal with him. Raedina deliberately pulled on the cord binding Alanya, escorting the traitor down the stairs.
“What are you doing?” Alanya demanded.
“Ending this…”
* * * * *
Elsia felt manipulated. By whom she didn’t know. And their reasons were even more elusive. But someone or something wanted this battle to happen. She kept coming back to the prophecies of Soron Thahan, trying to piece together any possible reason as to why this battle was happening. Elsia dwelt on that vague passage about apostates fighting the Unspoken One. Is this conflict the fulfillment of that prophecy?
With her nephew and Iltar’s acolytes, Elsia broke through the soldiers. Pagus wasn’t a half-bad mage. But if Elsia had her way, Pagus wouldn’t be seeing battle for quite some time, if ever.
They charged near the battle with the emperor and that short man in black. The Praetorians who had stood guard were either dead or wounded. As Elsia neared one of the corpses, she started with fear. “What on Kalda?!” She gasped. That was no man lying before her.
The Praetorian’s helmet had been knocked off, revealing an elongated face that resembled a snout. Crimson scales covered the Praetorian’s head. Violet eyes were stark against the scales. The Praetorian’s maw was ajar, his sharp teeth exposed as was his forked tongue.
Confused, Elsia turned to another dead Praetorian. That man—no that creature—still wore his helmet. A crimson-covered snout was pressed against the helm, looking smashed.
“What are these things…” Elsia muttered.
“Oh…” Pagus groaned, “You don’t want to know, Aunty. You don’t want to know…”
“Wow, that’s a creepy monster,” Bilda blurted. He was encased in a thick bubble of acidic barsion magic with the rest of the acolytes. Elsia was impressed that the boys had come up with that strategy.
Several of the other boys quizzically muttered to each other about the monstrous corpses. The acolytes too were perplexed. Pagus seemed to be the only one not confused. What had Pagus learned in his absence?
Elsia turned from the corpse to see Raedina descending the dais with Alanya. The princess tugged the high duchess along like a dog.
How dare she…? Elsia growled inwardly, then dashed toward Raedina. The princess spun, gripping Alanya tightly while extending her wand. Raedina said something in a strange language, and then a flurry of arcane bolts shot from the wand.
Elsia tried to dodge, but one of the bolts struck her shoulder with a violent eruption. She flipped through the air, landing on her stomach. Elsia expected the blow to hurt, but neither the magic nor the harsh landing fazed her.
Rebounding, Elsia dashed again to Raedina. She would free her friend. Elsia would not allow Alanya to suffer because of this manipulation. Raedina fired several more bolts. Elsia couldn’t dodge them and was thrust onto her back. Pagus leapt over her, clutching three shimmering orbs of acidic magic. He hurled the corrosive balls at the barsion surrounding Raedina and Alanya, but it had no effect.
“You cannot break this barsion, boy!” Raedina spat. “No matter how hard you try, you can never breech it.”
The acolytes joined Pagus in his attempts; they perched on the stairs, shrouded in their unified barsion. Their magic—a jumble of arcane orbs and acidic bolts—crashed into Raedina’s barsion, but none of the spells took effect.
In retaliation, Raedina fired a volley of arcane bolts from her wand. Pagus dodged gracefully. The acolytes, however, held their ground. The outer layer of their barsion shattered. Acid spilled down the dais’s steps.
Elsia resumed her dash, finally reaching Raedina. “Let her go!” Elsia shouted, readying her sword.
Raedina’s eyes flashed with fury, and she turned the wand back to Alanya. The princess pressed the tip of her wand into her captive’s neck. “Call them off or she dies!” the princess spat.
“Boys…” Elsia called, not taking her eyes off Raedina. Incantations ceased behind her—the acolytes didn’t hold their magic like other mages. Perhaps they weren’t adept enough. “Your Imperial Highness, please let Alanya go,” Elsia pleaded. “This entire thing is a misunderstanding. We’ve both been manipulated—”
“Silence!” Raedina shouted, burying her wand deeper into Alanya’s neck.
Elsia sucked in a breath. The battle continued raging around Elsia. More men were pulled into Iltar’s devouring magic. The sight was sickening. “If you let Alanya go, we will leave. We are not Alathians.”
Raedina cackled dryly. “You don’t think I know that,” the princess retorted. “You are far worse!” Elsia started at the accusation.
“This is not how it’s supposed to be!” Raedina spat vehemently. “He cannot be the Unspoken One…” Her words trailed off, sounding as if she were in denial. The princess’s eyes wandered.
“Just let Alanya go,” Elsia said, forcing a calm tone. Raedina snapped a fierce glance at Elsia.
“We will leave once she is safely with me,” Elsia said, her tone slow and deliberate. “We didn’t come here to kill anyone. We came to free my nephew. But now things have gotten out of hand.” Elsia studied the princess, but Raedina’s eyes were filled with animalistic rage. Raedina regarded Elsia briefly, then hauled Alanya toward Iltar.
“Now what?” Pagus demanded, coming beside Elsia.
A knot formed in Elsia’s stomach. “I don’t know…”
* * * * *
Lirathay’lu contended with only two foes now. He dueled wildly with Emperor Marden and Prince Laedar, swiftly casting destructive spells amid his swings.
Marden’s barsion weakened, and Lirathay’lu repulsed Laedar with a telekinetic spell—the prince landed among the soldiers warily eyeing Iltar.
For a moment, Marden was Lirathay’lu’s only opponent. Both began casting their own spells while executing a flurry of blows. Their blades crackled as they met. Lirathay’lu finished first, relentlessly hurling a disintegration beam at Marden, further weakening his foe’s protective magic.
The emperor’s barsion shattered. Marden abruptly ceased his offensive spell. Amid a swing with his monstrous sword, Marden attempted to recast his barsion. Lirathay’lu, however, deflected Deathcleaver. Now! he told himself, swiftly lunging at Marden. The emperor attempted to evade, but Lirathay’lu swiftly stabbed Marden through the chest.
Blue barsion dissipated as Marden gasped, gawking at the magically composed blade. Regal clothing dried and cracked. Flesh turned to dried husks.
“Finally!” Lirathay’lu cheered, violently slicing upward. His blade cut effortlessly. Annihilation particles dried flesh, sinew, and bone as the blade raced through the emperor. The blade’s tip reached the crown of Marden’s skull, and Lirathay’lu drew it from the emperor’s forehead.
Lirathay’lu leapt, spinning and kicking the lifeless emperor away. He recoiled, landing in a crouch. Lirathay’lu eyed Laedar, who was closing in on him. The prince’s eyes were ablaze with fury.
Good, Lirathay’lu grinned. One down, one to go…
* * * * *
Iltar had eliminated most of the mages. Negaris had resumed assailing Iltar’s Ko’delish barrier with blasts of dispelling magic, but no matter how hard the prince tried, Negaris failed t
o breech Iltar’s protection.
That surprised Iltar. He had never mustered this much of the Darkness—rather the Ko’delish—in any instance. Amid Negaris’s assault, Raedina approached, coming within arm’s reach of Iltar’s Ko’delish barrier.
“You…” the princess growled. “You intrude upon our home, you kill our people, and you blaspheme our God!”
Now’s my chance, Iltar thought. He would have to sacrifice maintaining his barrier against Negaris. He hoped it would last long enough for him to free Alanya. Iltar resumed mustering the Ko’delish in his hand, watching the princess’s face contort with rage.
Snarling, Raedina jabbed at a bracelet on her forearm. An opening appeared in the barsion and Raedina shoved Alanya toward Iltar’s devouring barrier.
Alanya screamed, falling forward.
No! Iltar gasped. Move! he commanded, willing his Ko’delish barrier to spread away from Alanya.
The magic flew sideways, completely exposing Iltar to Raedina. A few of the devouring particles, however, wafted in the air, eroding holes in Alanya’s gown. The rest of the black magic washed across the room, forming a wall that devoured some of the soldiers. Several were maimed, and their cries echoed throughout the throne room.
Alanya landed near Iltar’s feet, groaning.
Raedina’s barrier closed as she pointed her wand at Iltar. She said a word in the Keadal tongue that launched a volley of arcane orbs.
Infuriated, Iltar flung his hand toward the princess, unleashing a blast of the Ko’delish. He glimpsed Alanya stirring, but she didn’t push herself up.
The magics clashed—Iltar’s beam devoured all but two of the arcane orbs. The beaming blast of Ko’delish struck Raedina’s barsion, instantly cracking the barrier.
Raedina’s two remaining orbs struck Iltar’s chest, erupting in a blinding flash that hurled him backward.
His skin burned from the explosive magic—though it was not on fire. The bolts should have killed him, but the Ko’delish streaming from his body had absorbed some of the explosion.
Gasping, Iltar hit the floor and struggled to maintain focus on the beam. He pushed himself upright, refocusing his blast of Ko’delish; it was a column of blackness ramming Raedina’s barsion. The cracks widened rapidly.
“No!” Raedina exclaimed, gasping. “This is impossible!”
Pain surged across Iltar’s chest and he struggled to breathe, but he forced the Ko’delish beam farther into the princess’s barsion.
A resounding shatter echoed throughout the throne room. Raedina wailed. Iltar felt the Ko’delish beam burrowing through the princess’s chest. She shrieked a dying howl that ceased abruptly. Raedina fell backward, passing from life to death before hitting the floor.
Iltar groaned, feeling his wall of Ko’delish weakening. Negaris had almost broken through.
I’ll kill him—no! Iltar cut himself short. He wasn’t here to lay waste to the Mindolarnians. His purpose here at the palace had been accomplished. Pagus was freed and Alanya was safe—Alanya!
The high duchess lay near where she had first fallen. But she wasn’t moving. Iltar staggered toward her, but started upon seeing a giant dome of acidic barsion. Inside it were eleven short figures. Though their faces were partially obscured, he recognized them.
They were his acolytes.
What?! Iltar started. What were they doing here? And why were there only eleven? Had one of them—
The Ko’delish wall shattered. Iltar instinctively threw his hand toward Negaris, willing his streaming Ko’delish to form another barrier. Out of the corner of his eye, Iltar saw his acolytes advancing on Negaris. Pagus was with them as well. They flung acidic magics at the prince, drawing his attention.
“No, you fools!” Iltar shouted. “Come to me!”
The acolytes obeyed their master’s cry, but still hurled their magics at the prince.
Iltar’s skin burned as he continued toward Alanya. Elsia was already there, kneeling beside the high duchess.
“Alanya!” Elsia shook the woman, “Alanya!”
Had Alanya been too close to the blast? The back of Alanya’s gown was tattered, ripped apart by the explosion of Raedina’s arcane orbs. Her dress also showed signs of erosion from the Ko’delish. The skin on her back was charred. She couldn’t be dead, could she?
“Alanya!” Elsia shook the woman again.
No… Iltar shook his head. No, she can’t—
Iltar was no longer in the throne room. A yellow sky stretched above him, a blue sun hanging above the horizon. Translucent ground spread beneath his feet. Iltar was in Vabenack.
Anger flooded his veins. “Reflection!” Iltar cried, searching the Translucent Fields. “Reflection, where are you?!” He looked down at his hands, noticing the Ko’delish no longer streamed from his pores. What on Kalda—?
A snickering cackle sounded from behind Iltar. “What an odd name,” a deep voice bellowed.
Iltar spun, seeing a man in a white robe—wait… this was no man.
This thing—whatever it was—looked humanoid, but was covered in crimson scales instead of skin. The creature’s face was elongated, like a snout, and vibrant yellow eyes glared with thrilled passion.
“A man should always know his killer,” the thing said with a grin that revealed sharp teeth. “I am Xalutir, son of Mindolarn the First.”
* * * * *
“Oh great…” Pagus groaned, watching as that wall of black magic just fell to the ground.
What had happened? Master Iltar lay beside Alanya, face against the floor. Pagus hadn’t seen anything hit his master. It was as if Master Iltar suddenly collapsed.
“Iltar!” Aunty Elsia shouted, shaking the necromancer. Master Iltar didn’t move.
“Boys!” Pagus shouted, hurrying toward Iltar. “I need help!” He then uttered an incantation, a variation of the acidic barsion Iltar had taught him and the other acolytes. Green magic swirled around his hands.
As the magic took shape, that mage-prince turned his attention to Pagus and the acolytes. Damn it! Pagus cursed.
The mage-prince hurled several dispelling orbs, along with some flaming spheres. He dispelled half their multi-layered barsion with a resounding clatter. The flames erupted, weakening the remaining layers.
Pagus finished his spell, and yellow-green magic sped in front of the acolytes, forming a towering wall.
“Do the same as that!” Pagus shouted the command as he reached Master Iltar. “And don’t encase us, otherwise we can’t escape!” Pagus knelt swiftly, propping Iltar on his side. “Wrong time to take a nap, old man,” he said, frisking Iltar’s tunic.
“What are you doing?” Aunty Elsia demanded.
“Getting us out of here…” Pagus grumbled. “If I can find the damned thing!”
More acidic magic washed around them, bathing the air in a semi-protective shield.
“Keep those barriers up,” Pagus shouted, and felt something hard—like a rock. Without any consideration, Pagus ripped the tunic. A coin-sized blue gem with golden flecks fell from the hidden pocket—a rogulin crystal.
“Do you even know how to use that thing?” Aunty Elsia barked. She turned back to Iltar, shaking him further.
Pagus didn’t answer his aunt. He didn’t have time for that. “Everyone grab onto me!” Pagus shouted, then uttered an incantation. He hoped it was the right incantation…
Lady Alanya gasped and then groaned. “She’s alive!” Aunty Elsia cheered, gripping the high duchess.
Amid her outburst, the acolytes gathered in a ring around Pagus, all holding hands. Bilda grabbed Alanya’s limp hand, thus connecting Aunty Elsia and Master Iltar to the rest of them.
“The barsions aren’t holding!” Bilda cried. “He’s too fast!”
None of the other acolytes bothered to reply—they were all too busy recasting their barsions.
Pagus finished, but nothing happened. Damn it, he cursed again.
“What’s wrong?!” Aunty Elsia shouted.
Pagus ign
ored her again. Perhaps he had the words wrong. After all, Pagus hadn’t actually used a teleporting incantation.
Aunty Elsia resumed shouting at Master Iltar, but her cries didn’t jar the necromancer.
* * * * *
Iltar started.
This thing was one of the Mindolarn princes? But… this was no man. This was… a monster.
Bewildered, Iltar glanced about, searching perchance for anyone else here in Vabenack. But the Translucent Fields were empty.
“They call me the Master of Dreams,” Xalutir said haughtily. “Do you know why I am called that?” A twisted grin crawled across his scaled snout. “Because you are in a world of dreams.” The monster cackled. “Whatever I do to you in here will happen out there,” he gestured across the horizon.
“Here, let me demonstrate,” Xalutir said, then spoke a harsh guttural language—the same that Raedina had spoken to Iltar while in the Royal Archive—the Keadal tongue.
A sudden pang of pressure and pain struck Iltar’s belly. He looked down to see the banister of a railing running through him.
How… Iltar gasped. He didn’t even see the railing form. The railing just appeared.
“So out there, you’ve just started to bleed out,” Xalutir sneered. “I could leave you like this, pinned in place. I’ve done it before,” the monster mused. “But you’re a mage, so you’d probably just break it down. I expect you would cast some arpran spell, and then we’d be back where we started.”
Xalutir waved his hand in a dismissal and the railing vanished. Iltar collapsed, and his blood gushed onto the translucent ground.
“There are so many ways I could kill you,” Xalutir said, reveling in the thought. “I could keep you here until you starved. It’s an excellent way to interrogate someone.” The monster continued ranting as Iltar uttered an arpran incantation. A wave of rejuvenating magic washed from Iltar’s hands to his fist-sized wound.
