“I used that portal you made between Spellstream and the academy. Wanted to check in with Kevin and Theresa,” Delvin replies, removing the leaf from his armor. Doing his best to sit like a noble, he stares ahead and shrugs at the chuckles he gets from his friends. “Once we’re done with the Baron, I’ll work more on looking like I belong on a throne. Unless we take a cue from the wise Snow Tiger King and Queen who are very casual about such things. After all, we make the laws here, so nobody can tell us how to dress.”
“Tread carefully, my friend,” Timoran interrupts before taking a sip of Ifrit mead. Handing the drink to Tigris, he throws a golden circlet to the other champion. “You left that at the breakfast table. If it helps, I am as nervous as the two of you. This is my first interaction with outsiders as a ruler instead of a warrior. All we can do is our best and take comfort in the fact that we already know these people. Lord Skyblade, Mayor Highrider, and Duke Solomon will not take offense at our appearance. The Pillars of Everthorne will be another situation, but I heard that they might not be attending due to the cost of scrying spells.”
“Rumor has it that they always use that excuse to avoid most of these meetings,” Tigris mentions with a yawn. Having traveled nonstop from Stonehelm, she finds herself slumping against her husband’s shoulder. “Thank you for having us here, Queen Nyx, but the Snow Tiger Tribe is not part of Serab. So, I don’t understand why you insisted on our presence. We are neighbors and have treaties, but Spellstream’s future status as a Sister City makes no difference to us.”
Timoran is about to pat his wife on the head when he thinks better of it. “Bluntness aside, Tigris has a point. We feel that our time would be better spent elsewhere. Alyssa Goldheart is still wandering the grounds and we still do not have a full battle plan. The internal politics of a foreign nation are not our business.”
“You were invited because we are also going to discuss Baron Kernaghan’s return and what all of us will do to stop him,” a female voice says from the pool. A shadow rises from the center of the swirling water and bows to each of the rulers. “My apologies, but I will be the only one attending this meeting. Lord Skyblade and Mayor Highrider are handling the outbursts that are being caused by our returning history. My father is busy communicating with his generals as they handle the villages and keep an eye on the Rodillen thieves. There are no riots, but people are scared and demanding answers. Part of my job today is to get them and relay the champions’ instructions to those who need them. Why are you looking at me funny? Don’t tell me. Only my voice and silhouette came through. Sorry, but we recently had some problems with the castle wards. Give me a minute.”
The shadowy figure flickers as it kneels and begins pounding on the floor, the ringing impact of fist on stone coming over the connection. With a two-fisted blow, the scrying pool adjusts itself and brings Kellia Solomon into focus. The Serabian heiress is wearing a simple gown of white and her black hair is tied up, the loose strands tickling the back of her neck. Her bare feet are seen with every step as she paces in a circle and gathers her thoughts. There is an air of exhaustion that clings to the young woman, who takes a drink of icy water and shakes her head to regain her focus.
“First order of business is Spellstream’s status as the Eastern Sister City,” Kellia continues while fiddling with her sleeves. Unable to get comfortable, she stops with one rolled up to her elbow and the other down to her wrist. “Technically, this was already done prior to Queen Ionia’s creation of Darkmill. She never came to these meetings, so the treaty has not been changed since it was first written. We would have to renegotiate what you would bring to the table in exchange for our help in housing your people in the case of your death. Not to mention military and economic aid from all parties. We would need to talk about you housing Serabian refugees during wartime and helping with kingdom-wide food supplies in case of famine or drought. There’s the issue of your port, which isn’t as big as the ones in Gaia and Freedom, but can become an important river trade component. Are you understanding any of this, Queen Nyx, because your eyes are starting to glaze over?”
“My head hurts and this feels like a lot,” the channeler complains before flopping onto her side. Putting her feet on Delvin’s lap, she slips off her shoes and lets her head dangle off the edge of the couch. “If I have to do this now then I want to get it over with quickly. Let me know how many refugees are coming and I’ll create the houses for them. We’re still working on our farmlands, but I can donate a tenth of what we have. That sounds like a good number. Come to think of it, we can give more since we’ll have access to some crops and wild game that are on top of Binhadar Falls. What else was there? Ah, the port is yours to use as long as you don’t make a mess for my people. Maybe I’ll put a small docking fee on there, but that sounds mean between friends. Helgard came with a lot of gems and coins, so the Spellstream treasury isn’t going to run out of money for a long time. That’s why I’m thinking of not working on the new tax laws for the next two years and even giving the citizens the next year off from paying. Unless that has to be done through you, which means I’ll get to it by late spring.”
“None of this is legally binding, is it?” Delvin asks with a nervous laugh. Helping the half-elf sit up, he delivers a calming pulse of energy that stops her from scowling. “I know this is something we promised to do, but it might not be a good time for politics, Kellia. All of us are worried about Luke because he still hasn’t woken up. Dariana described some of what he went through and we’re all afraid that he’s not going to recover completely. Would it be okay to skip to our plan for the Baron? This way Timoran and Tigris can spend more time with each other before we leave.”
“I understand and ask that you let me know how Luke is doing as soon as you can,” Kellia replies, taking a seat on a wooden chair that appears out of nowhere. She wipes a few tears from her cheeks and signals for her scrying casters to adjust their spells. “The good news is that we’re getting some outside help. The friendly kingdoms of Cerascent have created a small navy to help us, Bor’daruk is gathering soldiers that will be picked up by Freedom’s fleet, the Yagervan tribes have promised archers, and the dwarves of the north are waiting for instructions. Our emissary to the orcs has not yet returned, but we have heard that the tribes are busy containing the bandit groups right now. We don’t plan on much of a sea battle, so the ships will be used to deliver ground troops and then create a blockade. Nevra Coil is unable to help with the actual fighting, but the gnomes are already working on designs to rebuild the cities in case of widespread destruction. They will start repairs as soon as the Baron is defeated, which is appreciated. From inside Serab, the forces of Gaia, Hero’s Gate, and Gods’ Voice will be marching when the time comes. It’s hard to make a clear plan when we don’t know where he will appear.”
“We have reason to believe the Baron will appear in Gaia, which is sitting on his former fortress,” Timoran says while scratching at his shoulder scar. He winces at the feeling of a jagged nail cutting his skin, the mild pain helping him snap out of a looming trance. “The Snow Tiger Tribe will march immediately along with some invaluable friends. Please keep this to yourself, Lady Solomon, but the chaos elves have been hiding in the Stone Asp Mountains. They have voiced a desire to fight against the Baron, which my people have already accepted as the heartfelt truth. Queen Trinity might not be with them due to another mission that she has undertaken.”
The frown on Kellia’s face is evident even through the hazy image, the heiress cracking her knuckles one by one. “I’m all for giving the chaos elves a chance at redemption. Yet, I won’t deny that their connection to the Baron makes me a little apprehensive. Some of our allies might be against this and attempt to pull out of the alliance once they arrive. We would need Queen Trinity there for any chance for things to run smoothly. I prefer that she join the other generals before an army of chaos elves appear around Gaia. As you requested, I will keep this a secret from the other leaders. Not a nice thing to do, but it means t
hey might already be in too deep to abandon the fight without listening to what she has to say.”
“What about Tzefira and the Salamander Army?” Delvin asks as he looks over a list of allies. He checks off the names that have been mentioned and crosses out one he knows will refuse all requests for help. “She’s the only other person I can think of helping us. I had the Dawn Fangs in mind, but I don’t think Mab and I are good enough friends for that favor. Tavris might come, but one vampire wouldn’t be enough if the Baron unleashes the entire Chaos Void on Gaia.”
“That’s a fun thought that I could have done without,” Nyx mutters, her sleeves erupting into flames. As her clothing returns to her casual shirt and pants, the channeler walks on top of the scrying pool and takes Kellia’s image by the hand. “Don’t bother my mother about this. The Baron could use her to get to me. Best that she and my father stay out of this mess. She really won’t like this decision, so I was going to ask her to keep an eye on Rodillen. Just in case the thieves see an opportunity.”
“Good idea. Although, orders like that are what my father or I should be giving,” the blue-eyed heiress wryly mentions.
“Sorry, but I don’t feel like time is on our side.”
“In that case, I’ll relay the plans to everyone.”
“Will we see you there?”
“I have to stay in Gods’ Voice for personal reasons, but Aedyn is leading a group of priests to help with the evacuation.”
“We’ll definitely need all the healers we can get. Thanks for delaying the Sister City stuff, Kellia, and stay safe.”
The heiress’s image fades away as Nyx returns to solid ground, her hands clenching from a blossoming tension. A closing door causes her to jump and spin around with a fireball ready for whoever is entering the scrying chamber. Instead, she notices that Timoran and Tigris are gone, the half-full flask of Ifrit mead sitting on the couch. All of the fear and frustration she has been holding back threatens to explode until familiar arms wrap around the channeler’s waist. Turning to face Delvin, she cannot stop herself from crying against his chest. Every breath draws a wisp of aura from the warrior’s body, his potent energy helping to calm Nyx down. Irritated by the uncomfortable chainmail, she musters enough focus to remove the armor and sending it flying across the room with the snap of her fingers. She avoids looking up out of fear that she has crossed a line and angered the warrior, who has always tried to treat his gear with the utmost care.
“You held out longer than I expected,” Delvin whispers, kissing his fiancée on the head. He winces at the feeling of hot tears on his skin and his fount powers rise to make him immune to the mild spell. “Best to shed our tears while he’s asleep. The gods only know how often I cried while I was going through Selenia’s files and found the one on Luke. Couldn’t stop myself from reading the damn thing. Tigris told me that Timoran broke down yesterday and they had to switch rooms since he put a few holes in the walls. Fizzle has been really quiet too and I’m just rambling now. Doesn’t feel right to talk about our wedding and future like we originally planned.”
“Please stop talking,” Nyx says, pressing her forehead against his lips. Her legs give out and she clings to Delvin’s shoulders to avoid falling. “Just help me to our room and rest with me. I don’t have it in me for anything other than silence. Not until Dariana, Kira, or Sari give me good news. There will be good news, right?”
“This is Luke we’re talking about, so I’m sure he’ll come back to us stronger than ever,” the warrior declares, his voice trembling. Lifting the half-elf into his arms, he leaves the room and tries to remember the last place he saw the master bedroom. “Yup. Nothing can keep a Callindor down for very long. They’re a heroic breed and Luke is a champion too. I’m sure he’ll wake up and be getting into trouble by the morning. Yeah, that’s how it will go. Luke will be with us to face the Baron like he promised you long ago. Besides, the prophecy is still in effect and Gabriel said we’d all make it to the final battle.”
“I’m going to believe you even though I know you’re trying to convince both of us.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate that.”
“But you will be quiet when we reach the room, right?”
“All you’ll hear are my sighs.”
*****
Plucking a blue apple from the tree, Dariana takes a seat next to Fizzle and uses her sleeve to clean the snack. The purple-scaled drite is on his back and breathing heavy, his scaly stomach bloated from overeating. Rubbing her friend’s blunted horns, the telepath takes a bite of the fruit and nearly chokes on the deluge of water that runs down her throat. Feeling Fizzle shiver in the early winter air, Dariana gently places him in her lap and removes her long-sleeved shirt to use as a blanket. Unaffected by the cold, she remains outside in her dirty t-shirt and cautiously nibbles at the rest of the apple. The stars appear one by one while Tavon the Blue Moon rises to her left, its three siblings nowhere to be seen even though it is only the first day of the new season. The champion’s puffs of breath drift through the air and gather like tiny clouds that dance around the extravagant garden. They are about to return to the telepath when she senses another presence and has them dissipate.
“This may be the last time I can visit you,” Zaria says as she takes a seat next to her daughter. Noticing a few faces in the sky, the Purity Goddess glares at the curious deities until they leave. “Some are still hoping that I get myself sealed, but the Law of Influence is not as heavily enforced these days. Once your father is defeated, things will return to normal. So . . . why are you lying to your friends again?”
“Only to Nyx,” Dariana replies while running a finger along Fizzle’s delicate wings. She stops when the drite’s tail slaps at the ground and he whimpers in response to a bad dream. “I told her enough about Luke. Regardless of what Nyx says, she doesn’t need to know how broken his mind truly is. The surface is nothing more than pain and fear, but deeper is this abyss that I’ve never felt before. At first I thought a part of him was torn out by the Baron or one of his agents. Yet, I still sense that something is in there and it’s avoiding me. Luke is certainly shattered and shouldn’t be able to resist my power, but it’s like trying to pull a specific drop of water out of an ocean.”
“Mortals are physically simple, but mentally complicated,” the red-haired goddess states with a sigh. Curious about the unusual apples, she stretches her arm to claim a yellow one and takes a bite that causes her tongue to shine like a lantern. “I would comment on Luke’s condition if I had anything to say that you don’t already know. Like you, I have faith that he will recover before he is needed. Not that you have a lot of time left. Arthuru is waiting in Vir’s Castle and his patience does have its limits.”
Dariana is about to ask a question, but it is wiped from her mind by her mother’s intrusive thoughts. Unused to being on the receiving end of such a graceful telepathic attack, the silver-haired woman shudders and twitches for several seconds. Worried that she might hurt Fizzle by accident, she places him on the ground and is barely aware of him floating on a cloud of rainbow mist. Her body relaxes once she erects enough mental shielding to sort through the static that is making her brain spasm. The relief is short-lived as another pulse rocks her psyche and sends it tumbling through a chilling darkness that seeps into her nerves. Numb and defenseless, Dariana struggles to trust that her mother knows what she is doing and has a good reason for the unexpected attack.
Her descent comes to an abrupt end when the telepath lands in a patch of clovers that absorbs the solid impact. Getting to her hands and knees, Dariana sees that she is on an island small enough for her to see the entire coastline. The largest plants are berry bushes that are spread out around the flat land, which is a patchwork of clovers and crabgrass. She is about to head for a small hut made out of sticks and tan mud when the champion hears a low hum from behind her. Cautiously turning around, Dariana finds herself a few steps away from a towering portal composed of lightning, shadows, fire, and ice. Energy c
onstantly ripples from the yawning maw that cycles through images of all the places she has ever been, many of them no longer in existence. The moment her eyes focus on the terrifying sight, her psyche is snapped back to her body and she wakes with a jolt.
“That is Xan’s portal,” Zaria explains as she strokes Fizzle’s head. Having taken the drite onto her own lap, the goddess hands the makeshift blanket back to her daughter and continues comforting the restless creature. “First, we are not certain that is how the portal and Xan’s island still looks. No god or goddess has set foot on that land since the earliest days of our world. All I know is that the portal can send you anywhere in Windemere, but it is a one-way trip. The Time God is the one who chooses exactly where you land too. Some even say he will choose when and you could appear in the past or far into the future if he wishes it. Regardless, this is the quickest and safest path to Shayd. It is recommended that you accept this unexpected offer instead of attempting a lengthy sea voyage.”
“I see you aren’t even bothering with cryptic messages now,” Dariana replies, wiping the drool off her chin. Noticing blood in the warm liquid, she puts a finger in her mouth to find that her tongue has a narrow cut along its side. “All of you are getting nervous and are on the verge of acting rashly. Tell the rest of Ambervale that the champions will leave Spellstream soon. We only need Luke to wake up. Unless they want us to drag a comatose warrior into battle. I thought Xan was put in a permanent stasis before you ascended?”
Zaria’s hair loses some of its luster and she carefully returns Fizzle to her daughter. “We thought so too until today. Seems the old Time God is full of surprises. Get some rest because the end will come faster than you expect.”
Warlord of the Forgotten Age Page 3
