“Spoken like his true love,” the Hell Lord declares as he stands. A smack to the side of his head nearly causes him to tip over, the hand-shaped welt on his cheek refusing to vanish until he bows. “I only meant that you still have feelings for him. Not enough to jeopardize everything, but a part of you is sad to see him come to an end. I cannot say I entirely blame you. Ambrosine is the same since he is her father. The difference is that her bond is of blood while yours is of the heart. Not an easy connection for the Pure One to break without being untrue to her nature and risking her power.”
Zaria sighs and changes her white dress into a suit of battered, leather armor. “This is the woman who loved Arthuru Kernaghan and I have not been her in many millennia. She is still a part of me, but not enough to stir me to action. Will I mourn for him? Possibly since I remember the man he once was. Will I try to save him? No because he made his decision long ago to be a threat to Windemere. Honestly, the emotion I feel most now is disappointment and pity. I hope this puts your worried mind at ease.”
“Oh, I merely wanted to get a rise out of you,” Gabriel admits with a smirk. Putting up his arm, he blocks another invisible slap and hums to prevent any more attacks. “Your pure rage is getting the best of you. Maybe it is time to take your own advice. Neither of us can do anything until the champions move.”
Annoyed that her words are being used against her, Zaria transforms into a puff of smoke and seeps into the earth. Happy to be alone, Gabriel returns to the warm rock on the shore and sends his consciousness across the ocean to spy on his living weapons. To his surprise, a powerful ward meets him at the shore of Ralian and sends him flying back to Ambervale. The rebound feels brutally violent against his unprepared spirit, the barrier’s magic sticking to his aura like an infectious glue. Gasping for air, the Destiny God feels like he has nearly drowned and clutches his throbbing chest. At first, he wonders if the cause is Zaria’s net that has covered the island, but a taste of her ward tells him that it would not have let him get so far. Unsure of what is going on, Gabriel can only stare at the distant horizon and wonder if someone is attempting to influence his game in the final hour.
“I’ll find you eventually,” he growls into the wind.
“Then I will be waiting, young one,” an emotionless voice replies in his head. The faint image of a looming gateway appears on the shore, but is quickly washed away by the incoming tide. “You are not the only one who has been waiting for this day to arrive. Be ready for your own challenge, Gabriel.”
Before the Destiny God can reply, the mysterious intruder vanishes from all of his senses and leaves him with a feeling of apprehension. A name nearly comes to his mind, but it refuses to become clear enough for him to remember for more than an instant. With no other course of action, Gabriel walks away from the shore and goes in search of Zaria or Ambrosine. He barely notices the chaos around him, his thoughts locked on the possibility that he missed an enemy who could destroy everything he has forged.
1
“I’m sorry, but is this a bad time?” Dariana asks as she enters the throne room. Ducking a spinning book, the silver-haired woman dives into a dome that is protecting a small group of royal advisers. “I admit that I don’t understand modern customs or the intricacies of ruling a kingdom. Many things have changed since I was young and had a chance to wander. Still, I can’t see the point of having all of these books flying around the room. Is Queen Nyx angry or did she misplace her library again?”
“We were going over the laws from previous rulers when she got upset,” an elderly elf explains, his crooked glasses sliding to the tip of his nose. The nervous scribe holds out a scroll and tries to read it while his smooth hands shake. “We brought this upon ourselves. Queen Nyx has been irritable and distracted because of Lord Callindor’s condition. Even with her worrying, she has been able to complete Spellstream’s infrastructure and make a lot of progress on the special requests coming in from the local merchants. King Wrath has been very helpful in advising her, but he has been busy with his wife since she arrived yesterday. Perhaps we should have waited before sitting her highness down for lawmaking. It can be very daunting for someone who has more experience bending rules than creating them.”
“This is exactly why we wanted her to rest,” the telepath groans while rubbing her aching eyes. A flicker of rage and sadness hits her mind and drives the woman to her knees. “She’s been working on Spellstream for days. The last break she had was when Queen Trinity was here, but I’m not sure that really counts. Have you tried getting Sari or Fizzle to help?”
A white-scaled fireskin clears her throat with a cough and holds up a list to help with her shoddy memory. “Sari refuses to leave Kira and Luke for anything less than lives being in danger. Lady Grasdon was asked on a whim, but she had the same response. Fizzle was involved in these affairs until Queen Nyx created a special apple tree for him. I believe he is still in the garden enjoying his snacks. We are down to our last hope, which is-”
“I called for King Delvin, but he is preparing for the Sister City Council!” a young woman shouts from the open doorway. She retreats into the hallway as a wave of magic changes the sand-colored walls into giant portraits of flame. “There are messages from the guards too. They are unsure about the bright red armor with plumed helmets and would rather wear something less conspicuous. General Dargin recommends armbands with the Ifrit symbol unless Queen Nyx has changed her mind on her signet. We still have concerns about a demon being on the flag, but only from a few of the local temples and their followers. Finally, there is a request from the farmers who find that their restored crops are impossible to collect because their tools are breaking on them. Nobody has been brave enough to see what happens if you attempt to bite them. Perhaps you put too much magic into the fields?”
The only thing Dariana and the gathered advisers can hear is a scream of frustration from deep within the swarm of books. Lines of fire ripple along the ceiling to create flaming chandeliers that swing in a wind that opens every window. On the wide dais, the matching silver thrones melt and reform into a crystal love seat, which does not match the rest of the red and gold décor. Dangling rubies and amber teardrops sprout from the curtains, but the added weight snaps the wooden rods in half. The falling fabric rises to hang from nothing, the wind making them billow out until they are horizontal and on the verge of getting tangled in the chandeliers. A gleaming layer of polish appears on the floor, which shifts from black to deep brown and eventually stops at a dull orange. Two tables grow out of the stones while the books explode into a maelstrom of loose pages. One of the advisers catches his breath and holds back the urge to complain about the destruction of the region’s precious tomes, some of which date back to the original magic city. As the empty covers pile themselves on the floor, the papers land on the tables in short, neat stacks that are immune to the buffering winds.
No longer hidden by the books, Nyx can be seen floating with emerald tendrils streaming out of her ebony hair. The magical extensions run along all of the pages, their razor thin width allowing them to pass through the pile without creating a disturbance. Her violet eyes have rolled back in her head, the lids quivering as the complicated reading spell continues. Clothed in a red nightgown that her advisers do not remember her wearing earlier, Nyx gracefully descends to the floor and retracts the tendrils. With a slow exhale, she rubs her amethyst necklace and lets her eyes return to their normal state. Gathering the magic in her hands, the channeler walks over to an empty flower pot and squeezes the energy until orange liquid drips into the container. Once it is filled to the brim, she turns the remaining aura into a metallic cover that clamps onto the rim with faint clicks.
“Tell the farmers to dip their tools in this and they’ll be able to get the work done. The food should revert to normal once it’s no longer drawing magic from the soil,” Nyx explains with an awkward smile. She is about to hand the heavy container to the young woman, but decides to give it legs and hands her a leash. “The
guards can use armbands, which will continue to depict the Ifrit. Sutter may have been a demon, but he wasn’t evil. I would have gone with a phoenix, but that’s already Helgard’s symbol. I will agree that it might create the wrong impression, so I’ll try to think of something else. If I change it then I still want something to honor Sutter in the garden like a fiery statue or a patch of magma roses. He was an important part of my journey even if we barely knew each other. Now, what are we going to do about these laws? I divided them between the ones I want to keep and the ones I want to get rid of. Why is there a rule about how many chickens you can keep on each floor of your house?”
“I believe the third ruler had a recurring nightmare of being killed by five chickens,” an amused dwarf answers. Once the protective dome fades away, he swiftly approaches the channeler and goes to one knee. “Pardon me for questioning you, but was it truly necessary to destroy the law books? I know there are years of overlapping and confusing rules that contradict each other, but it has always been that way. One could simply ignore them instead of damaging part of our history and heritage.”
“I plan on putting everything back together, which is why I created the reading and memorization spell,” the half-elf replies while pushing her hair behind her pointy ears. Tapping an anxious foot, she waves her hand to turn the love seat into crystal thrones that are connected at the inner arms. “I still don’t see why I have to do this. Queen Ionia had a perfectly good system. Can we use that until I have more time to think?”
“That would allow for Spellstream to settle into its own existence and reveal its unique challenges,” Dariana points out from the back of the group. The white-eyed telepath is surprised when Nyx leaps over the advisers, which is an improvement over the times she has barreled through the hapless locals. “My information isn’t something I wish to discuss with so many prying eyes and ears. I’m sorry, but you should finish your business here. Even if the delay is only for a few minutes, you will thank me for the discretion.”
Everyone turns when the fireskin thumps her metal staff on the floor and uses her thin tail to scoop up one of the empty bindings. “There is nothing left to discuss. Queen Nyx has requested that we use her predecessor’s laws and build off them. She is right that there are more important things that demand her attention. We have lived here for years and will not fall into chaos because Darkmill is now Spellstream. You have already given us so much that it would be selfish to ask for any more. Not while your family is in need of your strength. Please let us know what you want us to do in your eventual absence, your highness. The council and every citizen that you have saved from wandering are at your service.”
Before Nyx can stop them, her advisers bow and head for the door in two lines that become an unorganized pack once they enter the hallway. The throne room is silent and feels cold even after the windows close and lock themselves. Looking at her nightgown, the channeler wonders if she is imagining the goosebumps that are appearing on her exposed arms. Running her hands down the entire length of her body, she changes into her more comfortable attire of black pants, a crimson shirt, and well-used boots. Pulling a flask out of her pouch, Nyx takes a long pull of the harsh alcohol that erases the lingering chill in her bones.
“Not sure I like having our final battle in early winter,” the channeler says, a forced smile appearing on her face. Going to the nearest window, she stares out at the bustling city that she created from her aura. “I made all of this and it doesn’t feel like I’ve become any weaker. In fact, I feel stronger than ever. Casandra thinks my body is compensating for the loss by absorbing more ambient magic than before. We don’t have anything to compare this to, so it will take some time to figure out the details. I won’t be losing any sleep over it unless my magic is visibly affected. Now, when can I see my little brother?”
“We shouldn’t be standing during this conversation,” Dariana replies as she sits on the cool floor. Patting the spot next to her, the telepath loosens her dark red top, which is feeling tight around her heaving chest. “The good news is that Luke’s physical injuries are entirely healed. To my surprise, he has no scars, which is for the best because such a mark would make the rest of his recovery more difficult. That brings me to the reason I asked for privacy. I’m sorry, Nyx, but there isn’t anything else I can do for him. The rest is in Luke’s hands and he hasn’t even woken up yet. Nobody can tell if he will come out of this and be able to travel, which would be a disaster for our side. The Baron is already returning to Windemere’s history, so we need to leave in the next day or two.”
“Stop rambling and tell me what’s wrong with Luke!” Nyx snaps, grabbing her friend by the wrists. Seeing tears welling up in the other woman’s eyes, she releases her hold and curls her knees against her chest. “I saw him before he was healed. Sari and Kira told me how they found him. I . . . I was hoping the damage was all physical. Please tell me what happened to him and don’t spare me the details.”
“He suffered more than you could imagine,” the telepath bluntly replies. She is about to reach out with her mind, but stops at the thought of traumatizing the channeler. “The details are too horrifying to share with you. I can handle them because of my powers and enduring centuries of my own suffering. My father is a master of physical torture and delights in designing new psychological torments. While Luke’s body was repeatedly broken and healed, his mind was forced to watch the deaths of those he loved. His astral form’s eyelids were removed to make sure he paid attention. It was only today that I managed to repair most of the damage to his psychic self, which is a step in the right direction. Unfortunately, it was two days ago that I stopped the enchantment that repeated the deaths of Selenia and the Callindors in his mind. All of this time, Luke has been reliving the nightmare.”
“How is he now?”
“Sari and Kira are watching over him.”
“How is my little brother?”
“You have an important meeting and I don’t want to upset you.”
“I agree, but I still want to know.”
Dariana slides over to put an arm around Nyx’s shoulders, the telepath taking a moment to kiss her friend on the head. “I’m sorry, but I have no clear answer. Luke could wake up ready to fight the Baron and wanting revenge. He may also become a husk that will no longer be able to follow us. Those are the extremes that I can think of. Considering this is Luke, I assume it will be in the middle because I can’t imagine him breaking entirely. There will always be a heroic spark within him, which I hope we can nurture back to its former strength before we face my father. I will be keeping an eye on him, so to speak.”
With a shuddering breath, Nyx stands and approaches the crystal thrones. Remembering that Delvin is waiting for her in the scrying room, she heads for a door that closes before she can reach it. Staring at her hands, the half-elf notices the remains of a wind spell on her fingers, which slowly curl into fists. The urge to punch something nearly overtakes her, but a calming hand on her shoulder reduces her rage. Facing Dariana, Nyx can tell that the telepath has already read her thoughts. She frowns at the faint glint in the woman’s eyes, which shift to a piercing blue and threatens to change into abyssal black.
“Be strong for him,” the immortal whispers, taking her friend by the arm. Pushing the doors open with a foot, she decides to guide the half-elf through the maze-like halls. “I can tell you’re stressed since the castle is changing again. Just relax and know that you can help Luke, but only after he wakes up. While it is true that he may never be the same, that doesn’t mean we have lost him. Times like these are when friends and family are needed most. At least that’s what I assume since this is new to me.”
“Don’t worry. You’ve got the hang of it.”
*****
Leaving Dariana in the hallway, Nyx enters the scrying chamber and transforms her clothes into a crimson dress that runs to the floor. The high collar forces her head up, so she shrinks it and creates a slit to help her breathe. She smiles at Timoran and T
igris, the barbarian rulers sitting on one of the couches that surrounds a central pool of murky water. The couple are wearing their crystal crowns and snow tiger capes, which clash with the everyday garments underneath. Nyx is happy to see that her traveling companion has brushed his red hair, more than likely at the request of his wife, who has put an orchid in her golden tresses. Timoran’s tiger-striped great axe is leaning on the couch, the weapon glinting in candlelight that bounces off the blackened windows. Wanting the first meeting in her castle to be more cheerful, the channeler snaps her fingers to create two rows of colorful, glowing fountains that resemble whiskered fish leaping out of the water.
To Nyx’s dismay, her fiancée has not changed his clothes for what she firmly believes is an important occasion. Delvin’s brown hair is a tangled mess from hours of thoughtful scratching and he is still wearing his chainmail. The metal links show no sign of having been polished and the warrior makes no attempt to remove a dry leaf from his shoulder. She takes some comfort from the sight of his shield, the jeweled engraving of a winged stag sparkling in the light. Nyx is ready to leave his appearance alone when she notices that Delvin is tracking dirty boot prints across the floor. Clearing her throat, she catches his attention and meets his ice blue eyes with her best glare. The expression falters when the warrior smirks and offers the half-elf a hand that is adorned with a blue and white metal ring. Nyx makes sure to accept the invitation in a way that touches her orange and yellow jade band to its partner. The flat diamond on top betrays her annoyance by releasing a tiny bloom of harmless flame.
“I feel very overdressed for this,” the channeler whispers as they take their seats. With a wave of her hand, she roils the scrying waters to open the connection. “I was wearing my regular clothes before and now I’m dressed like this. At least Timoran and Tigris are wearing their royal vestments. I gave you a crown for this meeting, but I don’t see it anywhere. Were you working in the garden this morning?”
Warlord of the Forgotten Age Page 2
