by D N Meinster
Aros could understand that there was an absurdity to it all. Why did She choose to meet him when She could easily chat with the Grand Mage or the Prince? He didn’t grasp the reasoning. He only knew that it had happened and his friends needed to know about it.
With Doren and Rikki rendered speechless, Aros decided he needed to continue speaking. He lifted a clawblade into the air. “So, you need to improve this somehow.”
Rikki responded with one very long blink.
“And that, too,” Aros said, indicating Doren’s shield.
“What did She look like?” Doren asked.
Aros wasn’t an artist with paint nor words, so he wasn’t sure anything he described could live up to her actual presence. But he tried. “Imagine the most beautiful woman in all of Ghumai. Then picture her skin turning silver and hair becoming green. Something like that.”
“No one has ever seen the Goddess before, Aros,” Rikki finally constructed an entire sentence.
“I can try to paint Her, later,” Aros suggested, though he knew it would turn out horribly. They’d have to hire someone to create an accurate depiction.
They sat around silently as the minutes added up. Rikki eventually got to her feet and circled their end of the table, laying her fingers on Doren’s shield and Aros’ clawblades.
“What am I supposed to do with them?
Aros actually had a suggestion ready for her, as he’d been thinking about that since the Goddess had brought it up. “Make them shoot light, like the Bellish armor.”
He missed that armor and all it had been capable of. But while most of its functionalities were the product of technology and unable of being imbued by magic, he figured that beams of light might actually be replicable.
Rikki was less certain of Aros’ conclusions. She eyed the weapons on the table but took no action. “But we don’t even know what the Bellish beams were. Was it simply light? Was it more than that?”
“You saw it,” Aros stated.
“But I never understood it,” she replied.
“Have you not shot something similar from your staff?” Doren asked.
“Magical energy is definitely not what was emerging from that armor,” Rikki replied.
“But if that’s what you can enchant them with,” Aros said.
Rikki took a second before nodding. “I think we could make this work. Lift up your blades.”
Aros scooped up his clawblades and held them out towards Rikki.
“I have to enchant them with magical energy that only you can control. Which means I have to enchant you as well. Bind you to these blades. Do you consent?”
“They’re already bound to me,” he replied. Her magic would simply make how he already felt about them more official.
“This might feel…weird.” She touched her staff to the clawblades and all three items began to glow.
Light seemed to swim over the Ligold blades, sending wave after wave across the glowing surface. But the light did not stay relegated to the blades, eventually crossing over to the hilts and then to the hands of its bearer.
Aros’ fingers became a brighter yellow than the cloak he wore. After his hands lit up, his arms were consumed. Each glowing ripple spread out until Aros’ entire body was aglow. His light became so intense that he temporarily blinded himself.
Rikki ripped her staff away, and Aros’ light immediately began to dim. He returned to his normal shade, but the clawblades did not. Their illumination refused to dissipate.
“Rikki,” Aros alarming called out, unsure what to make of his glowing sabers.
“When you want them to return to normal, just will them to,” she replied. “When you want them to shoot a light ray, you can will them to do that as well.”
Aros’ excitement was suddenly replaced by a single thought: this had been a terrible idea. He could barely will himself to shift to the right places. Now he had to will his clawblades to return to normal or enact their new power. There was no way he wouldn’t screw that up.
“You can do it, Aros,” Rikki said soothingly.
He looked directly at the blades and, in his head, asked them to go back to how they’d been. And the blades listened. The glow faded instantly and the clawblades returned to their usual state.
Aros let out a relieved sigh and placed them both back on the table.
Rikki looked over to Doren. “Your turn.”
Doren took his shield in hand and stood back up.
Rikki touched her staff to the shield but only the channeling crystal glowed. She lifted it from the bronze and placed it back seconds later. Still, only her staff would glow.
“It’s already enchanted,” Rikki recalled. “I’m not sure I can add to it.”
Doren’s shield was unbreakable. Would Rikki have to remove Amelia’s old enchantment to add another?
“Is it impossible?” Doren asked.
“Let’s find out.” She rammed her staff into Doren’s shield, and when it didn’t react, she did it again. “I have to enchant the enchantment.” She pulled back and allowed green light to swim from her staff through the air and into Doren’s shield.
The green light swam through the bronze like fish in a pond, and they eventually moved from the shield and up Doren’s arms and into his chest. Spots of green light took up residence throughout his body.
Rikki jabbed her staff into the shield again, and all the green lights changed color and became bronze. Swirls of copper light consumed Doren, his shield, and his cloak.
Rikki pulled her staff away and all the lights zoomed into his shield.
“There,” she stated.
Doren willed out a copper beam, and Rikki swiftly summoned a transparent barrier to protect her.
“Sorry,” Doren said, willing his shield back to its normal state.
Two deafening knocks emanated from the chamber door before it burst open.
“We’ve all jus’ been standing out here,” Ratch complained as he made his way inside.
“The custom is that we do not enter until invited in,” Caterina, the new Head Guardian, stated as she followed him inside. She was dressed in white armor, though her helmet was in her arms so her trimmed brown hair and squished face were fully visible.
“There’s no time for custom,” Ratch barked back.
After Caterina, an entire entourage entered and filled up the High Council chamber. Nearly all of them were familiar faces. Lestrapel Humuratos, dressed in a pastel violet less vibrant than his hair, quickly grabbed a seat. M’hadder and Eloise, each in matching white smocks, sat next to each other. Azzer and M’dalla grabbed a place at the table as well. Though there were empty chairs remaining, the accompanying peacekeepers and guardians chose to keep standing.
Doren, Aros, and Rikki returned to their seats, each resting their weapon atop the table. Though the three of them were in command of the meeting, all eyes were on Doren.
It felt wrong, being where his father had sat for so many years. Yet the only alternative to this chamber had been the Throne Room, and Doren would’ve been expected to sit on the throne had they chosen that location to meet. He wasn’t ready for that. He still wasn’t quite sure he ever would be. The High Council chamber was more practical, more familiar, though it still gave him a queasy feeling in his gut.
His first glances were to his friends, though he soon took note of his guests and their accompaniment.
“We can’t have the guardians wear black armor anymore,” Doren insisted. “Get them green or whatever else we have. Rikki will even change its color if it comes to that. There would be too much confusion on the battlefield if we wore the same as our enemy.”
“A wise decree,” Caterina replied.
Had that been Doren’s first decree? He grimaced at the thought.
“I take it everyone is aware why we are here?” Rikki asked while Doren remained frozen in disgust of himself.
“The Beast is back,” Ratch growled.
“Mind introducing who is present?” Eloise request
ed.
Rikki listed off the attendance, giving Doren time to regain composure.
“We are here because this is the last alliance against Neanthal,” Doren stated. “He does not mean to rule us. The Bastion remains his true goal. We are all that stands in his way. If we fail, all of existence is at risk.”
“We can destroy him,” Aros spoke up. “Or, more specifically, she can.” He glanced at Rikki. “We’re not building a prison this time.”
“All of Ghumai must stand together,” Rikki stated.
“But all of Ghumai is not here,” Lestrapel interrupted. “I see no Fauns at this table. Do you know why that is?” He threw a gray cube onto the table, and a three-dimensional image immediately took shape in the air between them. It was a green landscape, with hordes of black-armored soldiers marching through it. “Neanthal has expanded his army since we drove him from this castle. Fauns have flocked to him as he marches back towards us.”
“How many?” Doren asked.
“We estimate eighty thousand and growing.”
“Eighty thousand?” Aros repeated, like it was the biggest number he’d ever heard.
“How many peacekeepers do we have left?” Rikki inquired.
“About five thousand remain operational,” Lestrapel answered. “We don’t have time to build more.”
“And how goes with the search for volunteers?” Doren addressed Caterina.
“Four thousand are so far committed,” she answered.
“And you may get up to, what?” Lestrapel asked. “Five thousand? Six? Plus how many Twileans? Fifty?”
“Just what are you gettin’ at?” M’hadder grumbled.
“Simple mathematics,” Lestrapel replied. “This alliance will be outnumbered by nearly ten to one.”
Aros eyed Azzer as he asked, “What happened in Terrastream?”
“Loraya was unsuccessful with the monarchists,” he replied. “Do not expect any Streamers to join the fight.”
“No corn-eyed or grass-beggars,” M’hadder stated. “What’s so wrong with that?”
“Maybe you didn’t hear how we’re going to be outnumbered!” Rikki shouted.
“Excuse him,” Eloise beseeched them. “We have not seen each other’s kingdoms for so many years. I don’t want you to take M’hadder as an example of what Twileans are like.”
Doren wanted to criticize how both Twileans leaders had stayed behind rather than join their fight, but he kept the insult to himself. They may have only comprised a small force, but they were still needed.
“I’m a much better example,” M’dalla stated, patting her own chest.
“Who are you again?” Eloise asked earnestly.
“Enough,” Doren said. He focused on Lestrapel. “Don’t you have weaponry that can diminish their armies?”
Lestrapel pressed the tips of his fingers together. “We do. They will devastate Neanthal’s soldiers.”
“Were you not prepared to use them?” Doren asked.
All heads turned to face Lestrapel. “If your sense of ethics and morality doesn’t preclude you from launching such a preemptive strike, we will use them.”
“We’ll deploy all guardians and volunteers to the border while the Bellish unleash their weapon,” Caterina stated. “How long do we have?”
“At their current rate?” Lestrapel watched the moving image. “They’ll reach us by midday tomorrow.”
“Less than a day,” Doren said under his breath. That was all the time they had to organize their defenses. Despite the Bellish promises, he did not have confidence that the conflict was winnable. Neanthal had too many by his side, and not enough Kytherans were willing to fight.
“I’ll get as many spare weapons to the volunteers as I can,” Ratch said. “We’ll even try to make some extra, right Aros?”
Aros had been lost in his own bewilderment since he heard Loraya wasn’t joining them. He never had someone he loved let him down at so desperate an hour.
Doren nudged his friend.
“Right,” Aros mumbled.
Lestrapel snatched the cube from the table and the floating image disappeared. “When you see our transports in the sky tomorrow, keep your distance.” As he made to leave, so did the rest of their guests.
Most everyone shuffled out of the chamber, though Ratch remained by the door as he waited for Aros, and the two Roamers stayed seated.
“What are we supposed to do?” M’dalla asked.
“We’re the ones that have lived through this before,” Azzer reminded them.
“We won’t win if there are only three kingdoms united,” Rikki said. “It has to be all of them. All of us.”
Doren agreed. “Find anyone in Faunli and Terrastream that might yet aid us.”
“I knew we’d get to do something worthwhile,” Azzer stated while he held his staff out to M’dalla. Within moments, the two of them shifted away.
“What do you think?” Doren asked Rikki as the weight of their undertaking began to crush his spirit.
“They want to defeat an army,” Rikki said. “We only need to focus on one. Neanthal. Stop him and it’s all over.”
“So the three of us versus a demigod,” Doren stated. “I don’t know if those odds are better or worse than what the rest of the alliance will face.” He looked to his other friend. “What do you think, Aros?”
Aros lifted both clawblades from the table, his mood clearly more despondent than it’d been earlier. “It was always going to be us. She planned it that way. Let’s hope we don’t let Her down like some others have let us down.”
Doren realized his friend hadn’t taken the news about Loraya well. He stood up, picking his shield from the table and holding it out between them.
Rikki was quick to rise and place her staff on his shield.
Aros hesitated before picking himself up and setting both clawblades atop the other weapons.
“We ended a civil war in Faunli. We helped cure a Bellish plague. We put an end to a tyrant’s rule in Terrastream.” Doren tried to think of their other accomplishments.
“We defeated the Resurrected,” Rikki added. “And convinced the Roamers to join us rather than continue being adversaries.”
“We found love,” Aros went on. “You two are together. Loraya is out there, not being helpful. But she’s out there. And Mr. Kwee’s waiting for me. And you’ve got a mideer and miwolf.”
“And I still have Mirabelle,” Rikki said.
“We ended the inconvenient winter on the islands,” Doren said. “And sent the Cartographer back out to sea.”
“We’ve survived frost urchins, rattipedes, stone spiders—”
“And angry antelope,” Aros interrupted.
“And the MR,” Rikki sighed.
“We’ll do this like we’ve done everything else,” Doren said.
“Together.” Aros raised his blades.
“Together.” Rikki held her staff high.
“Together.” Doren lifted his shield above his head.
Ratch lumbered over to them, having heard everything they’d been through. “Neanthal really doesn’ stand a chance, does he?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Awakening
Sheets of rain pounded against the glass window, but it was the low rumble of the thunder that stirred Rikki from her sleep. Her eyes shot open, though she remained still as she tried to determine the source of the noise.
Once she’d concluded that nature was truly producing the sound, she turned her attention to her current position.
Her arm was draped across a warm body, while she could feel the arm of another pressing against her side. A tangle of black hair was inches from her face, concealing the man with whom she’d shared a passionate night. As she stared, she saw his eyes were still closed. There was no need to wake him. Not yet.
Rikki carefully slid the blanket from her body, exposing her nude flesh to the cool castle air. She gently deserted the mattress and crept to the window, eager to behold the new dawn. There wasn
’t much to see beyond the gray clouds and precipitation, but she could tell the sun had risen and was merely hidden in the sky. This downpour would move on, but a worse storm was coming.
Neanthal would get there by midday. That gave them only hours to amass at the border. Peacekeepers could be ordered there. But how many Kytheran volunteers would join them?
An early start might have been preferable, but she needed rest, as did Doren and Aros. The three of them had the hardest job of all. They had to take on the Beast, the Divine Corruption, the demigod, on their own. And one thing they hadn’t gotten enough of on their journey through the Five Kingdoms was sleep. They all deserved one night of decent rest before the most vital day of their lives.
She and Doren had taken it a bit further. Rikki had refused to return to her old room. It reminded her too much of a prison; one she’d been locked in for nineteen years. Doren had offered his bed to her and, well, they decided not to waste that opportunity. There was no certainty that they would survive a direct clash with Neanthal. Each moment they had left with one another had to be treated like it might be the last.
Doren’s room was much grander than her old one. Where she’d had to pile books on her desk and floor, he had shelves upon shelves of them lined up against one of his walls. A fancy wooden clock hung above a recently-polished desk, where old scrolls were stretched open which had likely been part of his research into abdication. On another wall hung a painting of Doren’s mother, her sad eyes keeping watch on her son as he slept. One thing he lacked was a closet. The Prince had all his clothes brought to him daily. The only attire in the vicinity were Amelia’s cloaks, draped over a nearby chair. Their Bellish undergarments were getting washed.
It had been nearly a decade since she’d been able to visit his room. The castle authorities had no problem with them spending time in each other’s chambers when they were younger. But as they got older, their perception changed and they believed rumors would begin to spread. King Halstrom went along with the advice he was provided, and Rikki and Doren were forbidden from being alone together in their rooms. They’d probably feared they would do what they’d spent much of last night doing. Perhaps their qualms were justified.
