by Quil Carter
“I love it… you look sexy,” Erick said grinning. “Come here, little squire.”
Sweeny crawled into bed and handed Erick the goblet, before kissing him on the lips. “Your wine, Erick.”
The smile turned simpered and he kissed him again. “I really do love it when you call me that. Not…” His face became troubled. “Not… king.”
Sweeny shook his head. “You’ll always be my king. I just… I kind of am happier being around the former human. I like him more than…” Sweeny’s eyes travelled to the ceiling. “The one who flings the wine goblets at my face.”
Erick playfully pushed him. “You’d hate me in my world. I was just as much of a jerk.”
“A jerk?” Sweeny repeated. “I’m going to use that insult all the time, jerk.” Then he took a drink of his goblet and pulled it away from his lips. “Tell me something about your world. I want to know everything.”
Erick motioned him over and Sweeny turned around and sat down in front of Erick and leaned into him. Erick put his goblet to Sweeny’s lips and let him drink. He tried to think of something that he could easily explain to him, something that wouldn’t overwhelm him. “Well… we have castles that reach high high into the air called skyscrapers. Some of them can have a hundred storeys.”
“Really?” Sweeny turned around and gave him a shocked look.
Erick nodded. “And we have this thing… where you can get into a box and tell it which storey you want to be let off on… and it will bring you there.”
“Wow,” Sweeny said, looking positively in awe. “That’s amazing! You must have powerful magic there!”
Erick laughed at this and shook his head. “We have no magic at all. Humans have no magic ability. We did it by…” His eyebrows knitted together as he tried to think of a way to explain it. “I’m not smart enough to explain how… we’ll just say it’s magic.”
Sweeny laughed and leaned back into Erick. “Will you bring me there one day?”
Erick nodded and kissed his cheek. “You would look interesting as a human, little squire.”
Then there was a knock on the door. Erick sighed and took the goblet from Sweeny as his squire jumped up and started gathering Erick’s clothes. It was the same routine as it had always been except this time Erick was in much better spirits.
After Sweeny dressed the both of them in their royal attire, the squire opened the door and bowed.
Nyte was standing there, in wraith form once again. He looked to Sweeny and then to Erick and inclined his head. “I will be needing you for a moment, my king,” he said. There were guards on either side of him, ones that were always stationed in front of Erick’s chambers. “Accompany me to my chambers if it is your will.”
Erick nodded and the three of them walked towards Nyte’s personal dwelling, an entire wing that was only accessible to the kessiik. Not even Erick was allowed to access it unless he had strict permission. Something that never made him happy but once he understood how kessiik mages worked he let it slide.
Before all of this had happened Erick had never been inside of Nyte’s dwelling but over the past week not a day would go by that he wasn’t summoned there at least once. It was a strange experience being in his room, and it had also started to become unsettling as well.
Unsettling because Erick was now forced to look at himself every time he stepped into that dimly lit room.
Literally.
And this time was no different.
Erick walked into the room, lit with torches and a pale blue fire that burned in the hearth, and saw himself standing by the fire with a gold goblet in his hand.
“Erick,” Nikken, who was now wearing the skin of King Erick, said. “And how are we today? Satisfying your squire some more, I hope?”
Erick’s mouth downturned. He looked Nikken up and down and shook his head. He felt uneasy every time he laid eyes on this apprentice mage that had stolen his skin. “I… I don’t talk like that. Could you have not gotten someone different?”
“Nikken knows when to act serious about this. Though I have tried, I cannot yet quell his annoying sense of humour,” Nyte said casually. He walked up to Nikken and took his chin into his hands. He dissected him with his gaze before he turned to look at Erick. “Physically everything is fine, not only his face but his body as well. Everything is prepared for our departure.”
This made a tightness come to Erick’s throat, like his body was refusing to swallow those words. And the way Sweeny shifted around on his feet beside him, told Erick he was feeling the same sort of apprehension. “When are we leaving?” Erick asked.
“In the next week, possibly sooner,” Nyte replied. “I will be taking us to the edges of the Forest of Avarice so we can avoid the abominations you brought here. And then we will be catching a ship to the coast of east Alcove near the Lelan Islands. I’m hoping to catch the prophecy walkers when they’re leaving Toneris Pass which I believe they will be going through. That is the easiest way to get to Newvark without being detected. I don’t think they will chance taking the road that goes through the Forest of Ckhir.”
Erick nodded. He took in a deep breath and found Sweeny’s hand. He took it and squeezed it.
Nyte noticed this. “You seem to have grown deathly attached to your squire.”
Erick looked at Sweeny. “Once I leave this castle I won’t be a king and he won’t be a squire…” he said. “He…” Erick felt himself become embarrassed and the humiliation only worsened when he heard Nikken snigger. “He likes me as a stupid human not a king. Should I not be taking that and running with it?”
“True,” Nyte said. “Someone who is forgiving of the self-involved maniac you managed to become in four years is certainly a treasure.” Erick slunk down at this and Nyte shook his head with a disgruntled sigh. “You need to find your testicles, Erick Zahn. Your time for sulking over being a pawn is long over. I need you strong for this journey. All of Alcove actually does depend on you this time.”
“He already is strong,” Sweeny said quietly. He squeezed Erick’s hand tightly and gave him a reassuring smile. “No one ever gave him the opportunity to be strong. They enabled him to be the king he was. You included, Priest Nyte. He’ll be who he needs to be for this journey and more. I know he will.”
Erick looked back and felt a small smile come to his lips. His heart swelled at Sweeny’s words and closer did he inch towards the hibrid who was his squire.
“You’re a lucky elf, Erick,” Nyte replied. Then he, with Nikken beside him, walked up to Erick. “Close your eyes, Nikken’s mind is prepared to receive more of you. Do just as I said last time. Relax and take a deep breath, clear your mind of everything and let him enter.”
Erick nodded, keeping his hand in Sweeny’s. He hated the feeling of Nikken inside of his head. It felt like cold worms were slowly moving around his brain and they left him with throbbing headaches for hours afterwards. At least it wouldn’t be long now, Erick didn’t want to admit it but Nikken was becoming more and more like him every time he visited.
So Erick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He washed clean his mind of everything and soon felt the sickeningly cold, slippery tendrils of Nikken start to slither and weave around the folds of his brain.
It was like observing a burglar root through your house and all you could do was watch it happen. Nikken, deep inside of his mind, was sifting through information and stuffing it into his intangible pockets. He was bringing up memories of Erick’s time in Alcove, plus his time on earth, and other things that had no imagery, like his body language and the words he used. Erick even flushed when he brought up how he had sex. How he preferred things done and how he performed certain acts. Erick felt like he lingered on this part of his mind for just a bit too long but there was nothing he could say about it in that moment.
Finally the tendrils retracted and, with a gasp, Erick stumbled back. Sweeny caught him and steadied him and helped him onto a nearby chair.
“Good,” Nyte said. Nikken was besid
e him with a calmed smile on his face. It was never hard for the kessiiks to get their information but it completely drained Erick. “That will be all for today. Rest.”
Erick put a hand on his head and shut his eyes tight. He was thankful for Sweeny behind him who was now gently massaging his shoulders. “He’s certainly interested in how I have sex. He better be chayle, Nyte.”
“He is,” Nyte responded, “and whatever activities he partakes in will be done discreetly.”
Erick sighed and rose to his feet, his hand still on his head. “I’m going to go lay down then. I’m getting as much rest as I can before we have to leave. One of the many things I’m not looking forward to is sleeping on the ground.”
Erick and Sweeny both left Nyte’s chambers and made their way to their own. They passed the two guards and when the door closed behind them, Erick let out a long sigh.
“Come here,” Erick said when he sat down on the bed. “I’d like a kiss.”
Sweeny’s face lit up. He walked over to him and Erick cupped his face with his hands and kissed him deeply.
“How’s your head?” Sweeny asked, gently taking the crown off of Erick’s head. He put it on the dresser.
“Throbbing,” Erick said with a frown. “Grab some silverwine. Twilberry.” He got up off of his bed and walked to his dresser. “I’m stripping down to my robe and then you can do to me what I know will get rid of my headaches.”
Sweeny giggled. “Oh? And what’s that?” He walked into his bedroom, now not getting that much use since he had been in Erick’s bed for so long. “I forget!”
“You forget?” Erick called in a mock aghast voice. “How can you forget all the time I’ve made you spend between my legs?”
Sweeny laughed lightly, his heart filling as it had been doing many times a day since he and Erick had been intimate. He grabbed the pitcher of silverwine and stepped out of his room and into Erick’s main chambers.
Suddenly Sweeny spotted movement behind Erick who was standing by his bed. His mouth dropped open and his chest clenched as he saw a cloaked figure hiding behind Erick’s armoire. Sweeny saw a flash of steel as he moved into the center of the room, right behind the king.
“ERICK!” Sweeny screamed. “Behind you!”
Erick whirled around just in time for the cloaked figure to lunge at him, a vicious-looking dagger brandished in his right hand. Erick stood there shocked for a split second before he grabbed the elf’s arm as he raised it to stab him. He managed to stop the blade from stabbing him with full strength but it still embedded itself an inch into Erick’s chest.
Erick bellowed and tried to push the elf away, Sweeny now running towards him with the pitcher in hand. The two of them were struggling together, the assassin trying to push the embedded blade deeper into Erick’s chest. The elf’s eyes were wide open and angry; his short brushed back red hair falling over a strong jaw.
He was a Lelander.
Sweeny did the only thing he could think of: he flung his pitcher at the Lelander’s head. It hit him on the side of the temple and knocked him off-balance. He stumbled and crashed into the foot of King Erick’s bed, but as quick as he went down he was back on his feet.
“Guards!” Erick screamed.
Sweeny jumped between the assassin and Erick as the elf advanced on him, knife in hand. He only barely got out of the way as the elf slashed at him. When he jumped to the side, the intruder whirled around to face him and swung the knife at Sweeny again.
Sweeny dodged it a second time and jumped up onto the bed. He used the bed as leverage and pounced onto the Lelander’s back. He dug his claws into the elf’s face and gripped it, before wrenching the elf’s neck back as far as he could.
The assassin hollered and dropped the knife with a clatter. Sweeny wrapped his arms around his neck and kept pulling his neck backwards. Finally the elf was thrown off-kilter and he fell to the ground on his knees. A moment later Erick was there, who raised the silver pitcher and slammed it against the Lelander’s head.
“Where the fuck did that come from?” Erick said, breathing heavily. Sweeny was still on top of the Lelander, who now had blood pooling in his hair.
“How could he have gotten in here, that’s our question!” Sweeny cried. “Those damn Sentinels–”
Suddenly Sweeny was knocked off of the Lelander. He fell to his side with a surprised cry. A burst of stars erupted in his vision as his head gave a horrible throb.
Another one was there; he seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
Sweeny shot to his feet, ignoring the flood of dizziness, and lunged for the second elf. He dug his claws into his neck and squeezed them as hard as he could, hearing another yell and the warm wet feeling of blood through his fingers; then once again, another blow to his head.
Once… twice… Sweeny felt faint and his grip was becoming loose; he gave out a small moan as he fell to the floor. He tried to get up, but he stumbled backwards and slammed into the bedpost, red infiltrating his vision.
Sweeny wiped the blood away. The first thing he saw was the assassin fall in front of him, his neck completely shredded with four long slash marks. Then there was a scream.
Sweeny looked up to see a Sentinel guard sliding a longsword into the back of the second assassin’s back.
“Come, my king, the Pyre is under attack,” the Sentinel shouted.
Sweeny felt cold hands on his face, they were wiping the flow of blood. “By who?” Erick shouted; he was the one wiping the blood away. Sweeny tried to rise again; the cold hands helped him. Erick was wearing the Jare’s Paw, he had used it to kill the Lelan assassin.
“The brainwashed, the altered. Some have regained their free will, Your Grace,” the guard said hastily.
Sweeny’s looked up at him. He saw ice-blue eyes staring back at Erick; he was a Crithian.
“How do we know you’re not one of them,” Sweeny demanded. He felt Erick wrap a kerchief around his head to quell the blood flow.
“He isn’t, he was with me in my rebellion. Jahlod?” Erick asked.
“No, my king. I am Sen Xemeleous Onyx,” the guard said surprised. “Ellix Onyx, the lord of Merakhias’s son.”
Erick nodded. “It was a trick question. What’s happening out there?”
“Your Grace, there is a rebellion being led by Grand Chaser Keddin Tonnis. Steward Zoltan is dead; Sen Duck and Sen Goose are unaccounted for. I just killed Pierce; the other assassin was a Lelander.”
There was a cracking bang on the door, the three of them looked over to see the iron and oak reinforced doors push in with the force of the blow. The banners and paintings hanging off of the walls shook, and mortar fell to the floor like rain. Then a lot of shouting, mixed in with the clanging of steel and armour.
Erick’s hands gripped around the Jare’s Paw which was dripping from the assassin’s blood. “We’ll die fighting,” he said quietly.
“No, Xemeleous and I will.” Sweeny grabbed onto Erick’s hand and pulled him towards the balcony. “The balcony is reinforced. You’re going onto the balcony, we’ll lock you out there. I’ll tell them where Nikken is, they’ll make me show them. They’ll kill him, thinking it’s you.”
There was another deafening bang, the iron doors pushed forward even more, splintering and snapping under the pressure. Then a giant painting, one depicting Erick himself on the throne, fell to the floor with a crack, the frame breaking into several pieces.
There was screaming outside the door, and more steel ringing against steel. It sounded like a battlefield. A lot of elves were dying out there.
“I’m not hiding like a coward!” Erick snapped. He gripped the Jare’s Paw and reached down to pick up the Lelander’s knife. “I’ll kill every single one of those traitors or die trying.”
“Remember what Nyte said, Elron is more important,” Sweeny cried. He pulled Erick towards the balcony. “Please… Erick… please.”
“I will not be known as the king who fled.”
“Think of our mission, Erick. We
have to get you to safety, or Ben will never know. Nikken has already become your copy – they won’t know you’re gone.”
Erick paused, he looked at Xemeleous. The ice-eyed guard had his longsword in hand. He was looking at the oak and iron doors; his face was un-yielding. It didn’t sound like he was listening.
“Not without you,” Erick said. He grabbed the other dagger the dead Sentinel had and handed it to Sweeny. “Xemeleous, tell them they will find the king in Priest Nyte’s chambers,” he said. And they’ll find Nyte too. Let’s see how brave they are when they come face-to-face with the most powerful kessiik in Elron. “You have my permission to save yourself and feign traitor until you can escape back to Xal’Crith, if it comes to it.”
“I will do no such thing!” Xemeleous gasped. “My father would…”
“Then die Xemeleous Onyx, or take my pardon,” Erick said, letting Sweeny pull him towards the balcony. “The choice is yours, but you will be forgiven and more use to the Draken King alive than dead.”
Another force hit the door, this time Sweeny could see the flash of mail before the doors closed again. The frame started to splinter, and Sweeny could see the hinges start to crack and give way. He held onto the dagger and pushed Erick onto the balcony.
“Xalis and Darsheive bless the Draken King,” Xemeleous said. He took off his leather armour plate and handed it to Erick, before he quickly close the balcony doors, locking them out in the cold afternoon air.
Erick looked at the armour breastplate and then to Sweeny. “Put this on.”
Sweeny shook his head and started unbelting the clasps that held the two pieces of pounded leather together.
“W-what are you doing? I said put it on,” Erick said, making sure the balcony doors were shut tight.
“We can’t stay here, they’re going to kill him and find us,” Sweeny said. He unbelted the last strap, so the armour was almost in two pieces, only held up by the shoulder belts. He walked over to the edge of the balcony. He looked down and then from side to side. It was stone brick on either side of them, pressed tightly into the castle, making it almost impossible to scale to the next balcony over.
