“Good idea, my queen,” said Agmunsten. “I also propose a pair be stationed at the castles of Queen Alaine in Wyrdon and King Fernis in Brenland. Do we have your permission, Your Highnesses?”
The raven-haired queen blinked slowly, showing her long lashes and blue eyes to greatest effect and played with the gold chain at her throat. “That is a splendid idea. I feel so much better knowing the dragons and your people are looking after things, Agmunsten. I am ever grateful.” Dipping her head slightly, she looked up through her lashes at the realmist, who coughed.
“I am also happy with the arrangement, Agmunsten,” said King Fernis as he patted his portly belly. “But don’t expect me to be as grateful as Alaine.”
He winked. Queen Alaine laughed.
“Hmm, if everyone’s done, can we continue?” Agmunsten was good at making jokes, but not so good at taking ones aimed at him. “I had a short communication from Arcon. They found the book they needed and are activating the amulets tonight.”
“It’s good to have some positive news for a change. How are they?” King Edmund asked.
“I’m assuming they’re okay. We didn’t talk long; you can understand the dangers of being overheard. It is good news, but it means I also have extremely bad news as well.” The realmist made eye contact with everyone in the room, which suddenly seemed less safe. Zim, obese Elphus, and Arcese, being realmists, knew what the bad news was. Arcese shut her eyes, resisting the urge to put her clawed hands over her ears.
“The second activation of the amulets takes place at the full moon, but so does the gormon invasion.” He spoke quickly, to finish before panicked commotion drowned out his words. “I don’t know how many are coming, but they will be coming tonight, and from what Arcon tells me, they will be landing at Blaggard’s Bay, off the west coast of Talia: between Brenland and Zamahl.”
Agmunsten was smothered with a blanket of questions, from: “Will they come for us straight away?” to “Are you sure they won’t come through somewhere else?” He held his hands up for silence. When no one obliged, he drew Second-Realm power and slapped his hands together. A thunderclap shook the spiderwood table, and the chandelier clinked overhead like a wind chime.
The guards outside the door burst in, and saw not danger but a room full of shocked dignitaries: faces pale, eyes opened so wide that they looked like they would never shut again. “Everything’s fine. You may leave us,” managed King Edmund. “Ever do that to me again, Agmunsten, and I will find a not-so-cozy cell in the dungeon for you to spend some time.”
“Thank you, King Edmund, but next time everyone is that unruly, I’ll take myself to the dungeon; at least it will be quiet. Now that I have everyone’s attention again, I will continue. We are in a position I hoped never to see. Talia is divided, Leon is planning to attack us and is in league with the gormons, as evidenced by the information we have from Princess Verity and what I have seen with my own eyes. Possibly thousands of gormons will arrive tonight. We have no time to lose.
“Tonight I want to plan our patrol rosters, army placement in the event of an invasion from the north, west, or south. I’m trusting Queen Gabrielle to manage our information network and pass on everything she feels is important.” He turned to Gabrielle. “Thank you for volunteering, my queen.”
“It was my pleasure. It’s about time I stopped leaving everything to Edmund. I quite enjoy being involved.” Gabrielle folded her hands in her lap and smiled.
“I know I'm going to regret asking this, but does anyone have any questions?” Agmunsten braced himself for a tiring afternoon.
***
Perculus sat in the kitchen of a two-bedroom terracehouse near the bottom of Bayerlon and tried not to breathe through his nose. Since Verity had returned, his nights were spent trapped in nightmares sent by Leon and whatever evil being he had become involved with, and his days were spent running around the city seeing that Leon’s orders were complied with. He had lost some weight as a result, his large trousers held up with a newly purchased belt. It was true that he could delegate, but he didn’t trust anyone to do the job properly. If he failed, Leon had threatened to gather up his spirit and hold it for eternity, meting out punishment on a regular basis. Perculus didn’t care if it happened to someone else, but he valued his own life.
The gormons would arrive tonight, on the full moon. It was Perculus’s job to ensure that the underground tunnels would be available so the monstrosities could sneak in. Opposite him at the table were two criminals: a thief and a murderer. The thief looked as all good ones do: small, agile, and nondescript. The murderer’s hulking shoulders and arms bulged out of his woven hessian shirt. He acted with the confidence of one who knew how to use the many knives concealed about his person.
Perculus had explained what he needed, and after the thief, Chork, and the cutthroat, Lunts, had agreed, Perculus slid the money across the table. Lunts slammed his thick hand on the coins, intending to see to their distribution, but the smaller man, with speed obviously outpacing Lunts’s expectations, already held his share—snatched from the jaws of death, so to speak.
“I’ll be back to see you in two days,” said Perculus as he rose and wiped down his trousers with a flick of his pudgy hand, just in case. Deciding it was time to eat, he followed the main street until he found one of his favorite inns—The Gatekeeper. Perculus liked it because those considered “unworthy” were kept out. It ensured he could eat his meal surrounded by like-minded men, those considered in the upper echelons of society—it didn’t matter if they talked about the same old things all the time; they were an exclusive group, and it made them feel important.
After ordering, he didn’t have long to wait before his haunch of venison arrived, swathed in gravy and wreathed with roast potatoes and carrots. Perculus sighed in pleasure as he filled his mouth and chewed, letting the gravy dribble down his chin. Mid-chew, a stabbing pain sliced through his head.
Leon’s voice echoed through his brain, overlaid with another hissing, rasping voice. Hello, Perculus. Glad to see you’re doing as we’ve asked. The time has come, and there’s something else we require of you. His already pasty complexion paled as Kwaad detailed Perculus’s role in the coming destruction of Talia. His slack mouth fell open, and mush that used to be food tumbled out to land in a gelatinous heap on his lap, where its damp warmth soaked through his pants. The fear he held for Leon before was naught compared to this. His hand trembled as he set the fork down on his plate. He doubted he would ever be hungry again.
***
A three-piece band played. Agmunsten sipped his bitter ale and hummed along with the haunting combination of flute, lyre, and harp. Midnight neared, and although the banquet was meant to be a diversion from the current unsavory circumstances, Agmunsten’s thoughts rode on the wave of the melancholy melody.
Queen Alaine sat to his left, enchanting in a low-cut, red velvet dress, which showed her figure to its best advantage. She was a pleasing neighbor to have at dinner, and they had chatted most of the night, but now, as time fast approached to the gormons’ arrival and Bronwyn and Blayke’s dangerous second activations of the amulets, Agmunsten could think of nothing else. He chewed his fingernails and gulped more ale.
Looking around at his friends, he wondered who would survive the coming war, or if, indeed, any of them would. He threw the tankard to his lips and tilted his head back to be rewarded with the last mouthful of alcohol. He held out his cup for some more and was promptly attended by a serving man.
Zim, who sat across from Agmunsten, spoke into his mind. Don’t you think you’ve had enough?
No. Since when did you become my mother?
We need you to be awake tomorrow and not stuck with your head over the privy.
Let a man enjoy his last moments on a gormon-free Talia, would you? Agmunsten closed his eyes and took another swig. As he placed his tankard on the table, he felt a vibration and a mild pressure change. Agmunsten looked at Zim. The dragon nodded. Agmunsten surveyed the room and wo
ndered how everyone could still be enjoying the night when the worst thing that had happened in over one-thousand years had just occurred. Shouldn’t the gormons’ arrival be more obvious? He envied the celebrating people their ignorance.
So, that’s it then, Agmunsten spoke into Zim’s mind. Do you want to tell Edmund, or shall I?
Let’s not ruin their fun—like you said: it’s the last time they’ll enjoy anything like this for a while. There will be plenty of time to worry about it tomorrow.
And the day after, and the day after, thought the realmist. He nodded and drained his cup, holding it out for another refill. An hour later, as Agmunsten slid under the table and his vision blacked out, his last thought was of the prophecy: A time of darkness is here. May the gods help us all.
Acknowledgements
This is where I get to thank all the people who help me every day. To all my author friends—your humor, understanding and encouraging words always get me back on track when I’m having a crap author day. Thanks to Robert Baird who does the most awesome covers in the universe. Many, many thanks to Chryse Wymer—without you my punctuation would be pathetic and my awkward sentences would be torturous and to Tonya Cannariato for proof-reading. Finally, to the readers who take a chance on indie authors, and in particular, me. Thank you for purchasing and taking the time to read my book, and a special thanks to those readers who tell me how much they enjoyed my writing—you guys make my day, every day.
If you would like to connect with me, you can find me on twitter @DionneLister or my website www.dionnelisterwriter.wordpress.com. Ciao!
A Time of Darkness (The Circle of Talia) Page 21
