by D N Meinster
“They must’ve all gone down there,” Aros noted.
“Let’s not give them a chance to catch up.” Loraya tugged Aros along as she shot down the corridor. She kicked down the first door they found and ran inside. “Whoa.”
Barrels of prop powder lined the walls of the room. Loraya stuck her hand into the black-gray dust. “It took the Revolutionaries ages to gather the little we had, and we lost it all in the fire. Kahar just has a room full of it.” Her eyes lit up. “Think those beams of yours could start a fire?”
Aros figured his armor’s weaponry probably could but wasn’t sure how wise it was to use it. Igniting the powder while they were still in the keep along with their friends was likely a terrible plan.
Loraya must’ve seen the doubt in his eyes, as she’d already snatched up a blade from his back and started banging it in the stone wall.
Aros held up a hand to stop her swing. “What are you doing?”
“We can blow this place up!” she raved.
“Not while we’re still inside!” Aros shouted back. “Come on. We have to find an exit.”
Loraya reluctantly followed Aros back into the hall, where they found another staircase around the corner that led even higher into the keep. The air thinned as they climbed, and they slowed down as it took additional effort to breathe.
When they finally made it to the top, there was another door there, but this one did not lead to a hall. Instead, there was a room on the other side. Aros and Loraya both stared at the single occupant, neither certain that what they were seeing was actually there.
Locked behind metal bars was a bird that was supposed to be extinct. It was at least the size of a velizard, covered in red feathers with a beak about half as long as his clawblade. “Is that?” He moved closer to get a better look.
“Post bird,” Loraya confirmed. “The last post bird.” She hurried past Aros and stretched her arm through the cage. The post bird rested its beak on her arm and allowed her to stroke the feathers on its neck. “We have to free him.”
“I think he’s the one that’s gonna have to free us,” Aros replied. They were stuck in there with him, with not even a window to escape out of. There were only slight slits near the ceiling that allowed the air to circulate, and they couldn’t reach them, let alone slip through them.
Loraya pulled her arm back and pointed at the lock on the cage. “We have to go first.”
Aros nodded and aimed his arm at the lock. With a touch of his fingers, the Bellish beam burned through it and allowed Loraya to enter the enclosure.
“We’ll ride him out,” Aros said, following her inside.
“We can’t,” Loraya replied
“Why not?” Aros asked. He couldn’t think of a better way to get through the hordes that were likely on their way. They could simply fly over them. It’d be tight, but they could probably do it.
“Streamers don’t ride animals,” Loraya reminded him. “And I’m the only real Streamer left. I won’t do it, not even to save us. Because if I do, what was the point of it all?”
Aros wanted to argue with her, but he understood why she’d make that choice. “We’d have to fly through too many floors anyway. We wouldn’t make it.”
Loraya gazed at him.
“What?”
For the first time in over a day, she smiled.
Doren spun and spun and spun and spun, but no matter where inside Valiant Keep he ended up, there was no sign of the Key or King Kahar. He leaned against one of the empty walls, getting dizzy from his constant shifting.
The keep might have resembled Castle Tornis on the outside, but inside it was dreary and undecorated. There were no paintings, pictures, or anything else hanging on the walls. It lacked windows, instead relying on torches to light the interior. Little inside made him think of royalty. It was more cave than anything else.
Perhaps Streamers merely didn’t value décor like Kytherans did. Historically, they respected nature. Maybe leaving most of the keep bare somehow honored that. Yet it gave Doren a newfound appreciation for his home.
Most of his journey had made him think twice about how he’d lived and acted back in Kytheras. His father was not so bad a king when compared to rulers like Kahar, though he hardly inspired the same type of loyalty. And even if he was not a monster, it did not make Halstrom a decent parent.
Nevertheless, Kytheras had remained at peace during his reign, and Hatswick resorted to digging up bodies to break it. And Castle Tornis felt more like a domicile than this keep ever could. Doren wondered if Rikki would think the same. She’d actually been imprisoned there. He could leave on occasion. It could only be worse in a place like this, with no libraries or art, nor kitchens from what he could tell.
Rikki. He hated that they had to split up again. It made sense, given that he suddenly had the ability to shift, but he’d rather have stayed with her. Maybe it was time to find her. He was having no success finding what he was actually searching for.
Doren picked himself off the wall and spun in place, his surroundings fading on his first complete spin and a new location taking its place on his second.
Finally, he found a corridor that wasn’t deserted. Watchers were piled in spots along the floor, their red innards breaking up the monotony of gray that was prevalent within the keep. Most were dead or unconscious, but the occasional groan and attempted movement revealed those that had some life left in them.
“Loraya,” Doren spoke as he saw the arrows stuck in some of the bodies. “Aros,” he remarked as he noticed the slices and dismemberments. “Yayne,” he added, passing a lineup of knocked out watchers.
His friends and allies seemed to have taken on every watcher within the keep. He was impressed that they’d been so successful without any magic. Aros was certainly becoming a fierce warrior, more dangerous for his skill than his rage.
“Ughhh,” one of that watchers nearby groaned.
Doren kneeled and leaned in toward the watcher. “Where is the Key?”
The watcher’s life faded from his eyes before he could provide an answer, if he had one.
Doren shook his head and got back up. He noticed one of the watchers trying to push a body off his legs.
“I’ll help if you tell me where the Key is,” Doren offered.
“What key?” the watcher said before the life left his eyes as well.
Doren got the eerie sense that that was not a coincidence. He withdrew his shield and turned to the far corner of the corridor.
Standing very still, facing the wall instead of Doren, was a pallid man wrapped in chains, carrying a crystalline club in his hands.
Doren knew who it was even though he’d never seen him before. Yim was supposed to be dead.
He watched as Yim walked straight into the wall and was immediately confounded by it.
Two others mages stepped into view, much livelier and covered in the same chains that bound Yim. All three cautiously turned to face Doren.
Doren’s first thought was that they’d resurrected Yim, but he crept forward and noticed that Kahar’s mage appeared as dead as the rest of the bodies lining the hall. He tried to stare Yim in the eyes, but the mage couldn’t focus on him.
“What are you?” Doren called out.
It was the scarred mages behind Yim that narrowed their sights onto him.
“Puppeteers,” Doren stated. It was not unlike what Spira had done to the Outerlings back in Kytheras, though they had been alive when she stole their will. Yim was not. How powerful could a dead mage be?
Doren curled his arm back before heaving his shield forward. As it flew at the mages, he spun and shifted to their side.
He viewed one of the puppeteers take the shield in the head before he regained control of it and bashed it at the other.
He was blocked by Yim’s club, who thumped it into the bronze like it was a gong. Doren stepped back as his shield violently vibrated in his grasp.
Yim poked his club out and a gust of wind escaped from it.
Carefully, the mages drew him back in their direction.
Doren tried spinning as he floated down the corridor, but the harsh winds kept him from making any sort of move. When he was within Yim’s reach again, the mage conked him on the head. There was a split second of pain before the world went dark.
Rikki knew exactly where Kahar was likely to be, and she shifted there immediately after delivering Aros and company to another part of Valiant Keep.
Unfortunately, when she arrived, Kahar’s throne room was devoid of life. However, there were some new additions since she’d last been there. Resting along the side walls were two giant stone statues of featureless men. With one arm stretched up and the other reaching down, they held a position that made it look like they were holding the floor and ceiling apart. But these weren’t the only statues in the room. In one corner, gray stone had been shaped into a familiar face.
Rikki got a queasy feeling as she approached the life-size statue. The staff in her hand trembled along with the rest of her as she confirmed who she was looking at. As she moved in closer, M’dalla’s frozen eyes stared back at her.
Her memories immediately recalled the moment Kahar had ordered her hair snatched from her head and how he’d stroked it after as if it belonged to him.
She wiped a tear from her cheek before laying her palm on M’dalla’s. Had Kahar taken the life from her before turning her into this? Or was she still somehow alive beneath all the rock?
“Kahar!” Rikki screeched, her voice bouncing through the chamber.
Her channeling crystal began to glow, but she hesitated taking any action. Had her entire being been transformed? Or was she merely coated in granite? Could she come out of it alive, either way?
The staff swung to her side, and Rikki left M’dalla as she was. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. If she could find out more, then maybe the Roamer could be saved.
Aros wouldn’t be pleased that she left M’dalla like this. And what would Doren say? Thinking how he might be disappointed in her got her to raise her staff back up, but Rikki still wouldn’t attempt any magic on the statue. She walked away, vowing that no matter what, she would not leave her to stay like that forever.
No one showed up even after she had made her presence evident. But Rikki knew Kahar was bound to find his way here eventually. Lingering amongst the throne would be more productive then shifting through hundreds of rooms in the keep. So she stayed, roaming about the chamber and waiting for any signs of life.
She preferred when the throne room had been empty. Each statue was unnerving in its own unique way. When she passed the giants, she got the sense that they were keeping an eye on her, even though they didn’t have eyes. And when she glimpsed at M’dalla, it was almost as if she could hear her begging for help.
“Where are you?” she mumbled. The sooner Kahar arrived, the sooner she could bring his rule to an end.
Of course, she’d thought the same the last time she’d come here as well. Rikki grabbed a few strands of her magenta hair and twirled them between her fingers. He was not going to take it from her this time, especially since Yim was dead.
When she bored of wandering, she took a seat on the throne. It was chilly and the stone dug into her back. Why would any king settle for such an abominable chair? They might not have cushions in Terrastream, but they could surely do better than this.
Every few minutes, she had to adjust how she was sitting. But she remained in place, figuring Kahar would be apoplectic to find her on his throne.
As she waited for him to come, she wondered if Doren might find his way here. He was shifting throughout the keep. She wanted him to come; to be here with her. Though they split up for necessity, she would’ve felt much more confident if he was there with her.
Maybe they’d approached this incorrectly. They should’ve taken on Kahar together and searched for the Key afterward. Aros and the Lettes should have come along as well. Why exactly had she instructed them to go separately? Sure, Valiant Keep was monstrous, but she’d wound up putting herself in almost the same situation she’d been in before. All that was missing was the King.
Rikki tightened her grasp on her staff as the sound of footsteps reached her ears. She was not going to let what happened before happen again. She could take him. He didn’t have Yim.
“Rikki Nasem,” Kahar’s voice crawled through the chamber. “You are the only mage to ever escape me. I’m impressed.”
The King circled from behind the throne and into her eyeline. He was as grotesque as ever, though now he had integrated strands of her hair into his own. And that wasn’t all he’d stolen from her. His arms were covered in the silver that used to comprise her Bellish armor. He’d even added a cape to his attire, its shredded state and blue color indicating who it’d previously belonged to.
He was accompanied by four captive mages, with chains wrapped around their bleeding necks, all held by the legion of watchers he’d also brought with him.
“Look at you,” Kahar said, his eyes drawn to her hair. “You’ve regrown it just for me.”
Rikki scowled at him as her hands rubbed tightly on her staff. She was furious and terrified, but she would not allow that to stop her. “What did you to do M’dalla?”
“I’ll show you.” Kahar pointed to the giants on the sides of the room and they sprang to life.
As they reached for her, Rikki stood up on the throne, lifted her staff high, and smashed it down onto their encroaching stone limbs. Their arms crumbled to dust and the giants were left armless.
“Do you think you’ve won?” Kahar asked.
The throne beneath Rikki was altered into a massive hand that snapped closed on her legs.
Rikki pounded on it with the bottom of her staff and it transformed into a pile of wet mud. She slid through it and landed inches away from the King.
As Rikki moved the channeling crystal into his face, she was whisked away by the giants, whose broken limbs had been reconfigured.
“I’ll bring this whole place down,” Rikki warned Kahar as her eyes began to glow.
“You won’t,” Kahar replied, and he beckoned someone to hither with his finger.
Rikki ceased struggling in the giant’s grasp as she saw the figures coming forward. Yim, more pallid and less lively than before, but still completely nude, was trudging toward the King. Floating in front of him was an unconscious Doren. And walking behind him were a couple of other captive mages. She instantly regretted leaving any behind in the dungeon.
“I told them to bring him back, but this is the best they could do,” Kahar informed her. “A mindless puppet.” He patted Yim’s cheek. “But he still has some power left in him. Enough to take on your boyfriend, even. Set him down.”
Yim lowered his club and Doren fell, slumping onto the floor.
“Surrender yourself to me and I won’t make you watch as my mages tear him to pieces.”
Rikki nodded, even though she had no intention of surrendering.
“Lower her,” Kahar stated, and the giants brought her back to the ground. “I know better than to lock you up again. That’s why I’ll turn you to stone and put you in that corner over there.” He pointed to the vacant corner opposite M’dalla. “And I’ll put your boyfriend in that corner. And when we catch one of your other friends, I’ll but them over there.” He pointed to another. “This place will be looking fantastic. I might have them leave your hair though. It’s too beautiful to turn to rock.”
Rikki inspected Yim, whose unfocused eyes eased any worry she had. He was about as alive as the giants that held her. The real threat was the captive mages, puppeteering the lifeless shells.
Her eyes fell to Doren, whose flickering eyelids indicated he was waking up. If he could take them out with his shield, this might go more smoothly. But there was no way to relay her plan to him. She’d have to set it i
n motion and hope he came to soon enough to distract those around him.
“Go on,” Kahar urged Yim forward. “But leave her hair.”
When Yim was close enough, Rikki’s staff burst through the giant’s hand, and Yim was sent soaring back into the far reaches of the chamber. Before the mages could reconstruct their golem, Rikki touched her staff to the ground and started her own construction. She’d never transmogrified a living puppet before and creating such a massive one on her first try required extra effort.
The ground surrounding her glowed the same green as her eyes and crystals, and eight colossal legs rose up from the stone, followed by a boulder-like body and an inset pincer.
As the watchers stayed transfixed by the fearsome creature, Doren picked himself up and bashed a row of them with his shield. He then dove at a congregation of captive mages, taking them all down and stilling one of the giants.
Rikki stood atop her enormous stone spider as they both surveyed the room. It clicked its pincer together to taunt the retreating audience.
“It’s fake!” Kahar screamed. “Fake spider! Fake!”
As the remaining giant swung an arm toward it, Rikki compelled her spider to headbutt it, sending it crashing back into the wall.
Doren was stuck on the ground, holding his shield up as the last courageous watchers beat clubs down upon it. Rikki wanted to free him, but the captive mages were disappearing one leg of her spider at a time. The creature wobbled as she directed it toward the King. It made it close to him before all of its legs vanished, sending it crashing into the floor.
Before the dust cleared, Rikki took control of the giant and snatched a handful of mages away from Kahar.
As she emerged from the gray cloud, she saw Doren once again in Yim’s clutches, the crystal club pressing into his throat.
“All this for what?” Kahar asked.
“You’ve destroyed Terrastream,” Rikki gasped.
“Destroyed it?” Kahar repeated, incredulous. “I’ve saved it. I’ve made it great again. The land was filled with people, ruining natural habitats, consuming resources, stealing from our fellow animals. I moved them all here, into unoccupied rock. The only cost was bits of an infinite range of mountains. Easily worth it to preserve all of nature.
