by Jess Lebow
The coach erupted in flame as the Elixir caught fire.
chapter nine
A complete slaughter. Not a single man or horse returned alive. The horror of the situation lay heavy on the shoulders of King Korox. He’d been pacing the length of his audience chamber for some time, receiving reports from his scouts and weighing his battle options. He sat now in his throne, his heart darkened. Evacuation, it seemed, was a very real option.
The sun was rising, and he had not yet been to bed. His head was full of thoughts—of the men who had been lost; of Five Spears Hold, the closest, safest location to send refugees if and when he gave the evacuation order; and of the newest threat posed to his kingdom, the hulking, blackened citadel that blotted out the daylight and cast fear upon the hearts of every citizen in Llorbauth.
“You cannot blame yourself for what happened.”
Korox looked up to see Senator Divian standing at the entrance of the audience chamber.
“Can’t I?”
The senator smiled. “Well, you are the king, so I suppose that means you can do whatever you please.”
He smiled back, weakly. “That’s what I’m told.”
The senator sat down on the steps of the dais, at the foot of the king’s throne. “It wasn’t you who killed those men. You were only trying to protect the people of this kingdom.”
“Tell that to those soldiers.”
“Oh, come now,” the senator scolded. “You know better than most that the life of a soldier is a perilous one at best. Those men knew what they were getting into. They were men of honor, men of duty, and they proudly served Korox Morkann, the Warrior King.”
“You make me sound so glorious for having sent an entire unit of men to their deaths.”
Senator Divian placed her hand on his leg. “It was not your actions that struck those men dead. And that may not be the only hard decision you have to make in the coming days.”
The king scratched his head. “But you were against the decision to send men out there in the first place.”
The senator shook her head. “That’s not true. At the time, we did not know what we were dealing with or what that thing wanted.”
“We still don’t,” reminded the king.
“No,” she conceded, “but I think there is little doubt that whatever it wants, it means to do us some harm if it doesn’t get it. And for what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing—for Erlkazar.”
The king took in a deep breath and nodded. He sat in silence, the senator at his side, mulling over the choices he’d made and would have to make.
Whitman’s voice broke his quiet contemplation.
“My lord!” The scribe’s boots made a loud clopping sound across the marble floor. “My lord, there appears to be a message for you outside the palace gates.”
“A message? From whom?”
Whitman stopped in front of the throne. “From … from that thing—the ruler of the Obsidian Ridge.”
The king leaped to his feet. “Why was it not brought to me?”
“Uh …” Whitman fumbled for a moment. “My lord, it’s … it’s—”
“It’s what, Whitman? I don’t have time for your mumbling. Spit it out.”
“The message is inscribed on a giant slab of stone. It cannot be moved.”
The king looked at the senator, questioning her with his eyes. She shrugged, just as confused as he.
“You say it’s at the palace gates.” The king made a move for the door, his bodyguard Quinn right behind him, Senator Divian a close second.
Whitman followed. “Yes, my lord.”
Down the steps into the great hall, the king collected followers like rats to a piper. They fell into step behind, wondering, he assumed, what the message from the Obsidian Ridge would bring to light.
Outside of the keep, a crowd of servants and court functionaries were already gathered. Though the drawbridge was down, and the heavy wooden doors were open, the portcullis that protected the gateway was shut—a sign that not all was well in Erlkazar.
“Step aside!” shouted Whitman. “Make way for King Korox!”
The crowd, previously too preoccupied with the sight before them, now turned and parted. They bowed their heads, many dropping to one knee before the king.
Korox looked at each one of them as he passed, nodding his acknowledgment. He knew these people, some better than others, but he knew them. He had grown up with many of them, and had seen them have many emotions. He had watched them celebrate the new harvest, cry over the death of close friends, rejoice at the birth of a new child. But as he looked upon them now, he saw something new—he saw fear. He knew how they felt. And though it was comforting to know that he was not the only one afraid of the floating black citadel, he also knew that these people were looking to him to bring them safely through this time of uncertainty.
Reaching the portcullis, Korox gazed out between its rough iron bars at a huge black obelisk. Carved completely out of obsidian, the enormous stone stood three times the height of a man, and it rested now just on the other side of the drawbridge. Words, written in Common, were inscribed on its surface, but from where he stood, the king couldn’t make out what they said.
Korox turned to the nearest palace guard. “How did this get here?”
The guard fumbled for the words. “It just … just … did, my lord.”
“What do you mean, ‘it just did?’ It’s a huge stone obelisk. Did it drop from the sky?”
The guard shook his head. “No, my lord. One moment, it wasn’t there. Then as the sun rose over Shalane Lake, it … it just was.”
“And you saw no one? No creatures, no soldiers, no wizards, no one appeared with it?”
“No, my king,” replied the guard. “Only the obelisk.”
The king nodded. “Well then, raise the portcullis,” he ordered. “I want to get a better look.”
The order echoed over the heads of the people, shouted from one guard to the next, until it was answered by the grinding of heavy chain. The huge metal gate that protected the entrance of the palace complained as it was lifted into the air. With each crank of the wooden gear, the portcullis drew higher, the pointed ends looking like the jaw of a gigantic beast, ready to chomp down on any who drew near.
The king didn’t wait for it to reach its full height. Ducking under the partially open gate, he made his way down the drawbridge, into the early morning. The senator, Quinn, and Whitman all followed. Captain Kaden rushed to catch up, fastening the last few buckles of his plate mail as he shouldered his way through the crowd, joining the others as they left the palace.
As they drew closer, King Korox began to recognize the words inscribed on its surface. The chiseled letters only became legible when the light hit them at just the right angle, reflecting off the inner surface of the carving and casting the words in contrast to the darker stone. Drawing up to the edge of the obelisk, the king sidestepped, tilting his head to get the sun’s early rays into the right position.
King Korox Morkann of Erlkazar,
Underestimate my power at your folly. Further resistance or acts of aggression will not be tolerated.
On the moon’s rise in four days time, deliver to me your eldest daughter, Princess Mariko.
Sacrifice the princess, or you shall forfeit the lives of everyone in your kingdom.
Arch Magus Xeries
Quinn caught the king under the arm, holding him up as his knees went weak.
In all the time he had been serving Korox Morkann, the Warrior King as many called him, he had never seen the man falter as he did now.
The king grabbed Quinn’s shoulder with his other hand, steadying himself. “Where is my daughter?” he asked.
When no one answered, he repeated himself, this time more forcefully. “Where is my daughter?”
Captain Kaden echoed the king’s concern. “Has anyone seen the princess?” He pointed to the closest palace guard. “You there. You were on duty this morning. When was the last ti
me you saw the princess?”
The guard shook his head. “Not today.”
“How about you?” shouted Kaden at one of his Magistrates. “Have you seen the princess?”
“No,” replied the soldier. “Not since the black fortress arrived.”
Quinn could tell the king was growing more and more alarmed. His eyes were beginning to narrow, and the edges of his lips were curled down, a sign that his initial shock was now turning to anger.
Straightening, King Korox took his weight off of Quinn. “Well, someone find my daughter. Right now!”
Every palace guard within earshot took off in a different direction. The crowd of gawking courtiers scattered—some helping to search for Princess Mariko, others just simply trying to get out of the way.
Captain Kaden lowered his head in a bow to the king. “With all due respect my lord, you don’t plan to turn the princess over to that … that beast, do you?”
King Korox’s voice boomed as he replied. “This is my daughter we’re talking about here, son. I’d just as soon give up my own life than hers.”
“Then what do you plan to do?” asked Senator Divian.
The senator always stood too close to the king for Quinn’s comfort. She gripped his arm now, a look of stern disapproval on her face.
“You must be careful what you decide, Korox,” she continued. “It is not just your daughter who is in danger. The lives of every man, woman, and child in Erlkazar are at stake here.”
The king looked at her hand on his arm. The anger on his face had clearly not yet subsided. “This is neither the time nor the place for this discussion.”
He raised his gaze to meet the senator’s, his eyes narrowing as he did.
Quinn gripped the hilt of his sword, unnerved by the mounting tension between the king and his advisor.
Senator Divian relented, letting go of the king and nodding her understanding.
Korox turned to the head of the Magistrates. “Captain—”
Kaden cut him off before he could finish. “I’ll find her, my lord.” Then he took off into the palace at a full run.
Taking one last look at the stone obelisk, the king marched back into the great hall, leaving the senator by herself at the end of the drawbridge. Quinn followed behind.
The moment his foot touched the inside of the palace, King Korox began shouting.
“Mariko!” His words boomed as he stormed through the halls. “Mariko where are you?” No one else spoke. His unanswered calls echoed off the stone walls, making Klarsamryn seem cold and empty. “Mariko!”
“Perhaps we should split up, my lord,” said Quinn.
Korox continued his march through the palace—a man obsessed, not slowing his pace.
“There are plenty of Magistrates here,” continued Quinn. “I’m sure you will be safe while we search, and we can cover more ground if we’re looking in separate places.”
The king came to a stop. At the end of the hall, the man with the pointy beard and curled moustache had appeared—the man the king had called Vasser.
“No,” replied the king, obviously preoccupied by the presence of the bearded stranger. “For now I need you by my side. Wait right here.”
Korox left Quinn behind as he met with the mysterious messenger.
Vasser gave Quinn a wide smile, then he leaned in and whispered something into the king’s ear. He talked for some time then pulled a piece of vellum from his pocket, unfolded it, and began pointing at several different points.
Torches behind Vasser and the king partially illuminated the vellum. Every time the shadow of Vasser’s head lifted away, Quinn could see right through it. From what he could tell, it looked to be a map of the five baronies—Llorbauth in the center.
Vasser pointed to the docks, then to the south—maybe Duhlnarim? Then back again at Llorbauth. Whatever he had said caught the king by surprise, and Korox took a huge, unbalanced step back, his eyes wide with fear. Looking like a toy soldier, his legs wooden and stiff, the king spun around on his heels, turned, and continued his march down the hall.
“Quinn!” he shouted over his shoulder, resuming his earlier pace. “With me!”
The king’s bodyguard rushed to catch up, running past Vasser as he did. The man nodded and gave a small bow, his face the very picture of concern. This man was trouble, but Quinn had no time to deal with him now. Letting him go for the time being, he caught up with the king as he turned the corner.
It was obvious to Quinn that they were headed for Princess Mariko’s chamber. Surely by now they had already been checked by the palace guard, but perhaps the king just needed to see for himself.
Barging through the door, the king stepped into his daughter’s room. On any other day, he would have knocked and announced himself, always very respectful of Mariko’s privacy. But today was like no other day.
Inside, as Quinn had suspected, the princess’s bed chamber was filled with palace guards and court functionaries.
“Where’s Genevie?” shouted the king.
Everyone in the room came to a halt. The sudden appearance of a shouting king flustered them, and they tried with only varying degrees of success to follow courtly protocol. Several bowed. One man stumbled over a stool, seemingly blown backward by the sheer force of the king’s words. But none of them answered his question.
“The princess’s handmaiden!” shouted the king. “Have any of you seen her?”
Silence.
“Does anyone in this palace still have a tongue?” The king was growing more and more furious, his cheeks and forehead turning bright red. “Answer me.” He took a menacing step toward the nearest palace guard.
“I … I haven’t seen her, my lord.” The guard dropped his eyes to the ground, cringing as if he might be struck.
“Has anyone seen her? Where is she?”
Everyone in the room shook their heads. No one knew.
The king flew back out into the hall to Genevie’s bed chamber. Not bothering to stop, King Korox kicked the door in with the heel of his boot, drawing his sword as he crossed the threshold.
Quinn had never seen Korox pull his blade inside the palace. His heart pounding in his chest, the king’s bodyguard quickly drew his own sword and bolted through the ruined door.
Unlike the princess’s chamber, this room had no windows. There were no torches or candles lit, and the only light came in from the hallway. Leaping over a table, Quinn landed on the floor in front of the king, his blade out, ready for whatever it was that had caused the king to pull his sword.
But there was nothing. Genevie was not there, and the room appeared to have been unused for some time.
chapter ten
A full day had gone by, and no sign of the princess or her handmaiden. The king was beside himself. Mariko had never been missing for this long. She had spied on many of Erlkazar’s most dangerous criminals, and the king knew of the potential danger when he sent her out. He worried about her each and every time he did so, but she was cautious, and every time before she had come back.
This time, however, he feared his daughter had been betrayed. The news from Vasser had been inconclusive, but with Mariko missing, he had nothing else to go on. For now there was little more he could do. He had teams scouring Llorbauth for his daughter. He had sent missives to his brother-in-law, Lord Purdun, and to each of the other barons, asking for their help in locating the missing princess and the handmaiden. He had even tripled the patrols around the palace. Outside of going to search for her himself, all he could do was wait for news.
In the meantime, he still had the Obsidian Ridge and a potential evacuation of Llorbauth to deal with.
“Lady Herrin to see King Korox Morkann,” announced Whitman.
“As if I needed a reminder,” he said under his breath.
Lady Herrin, her clothing adorned with hundreds of tiny golden coins, jingled as she entered the audience chamber. Her bodyguards, more heavily armed than Quinn, clanked along behind her.
Approac
hing the dais, she took one look at Whitman, smirked, then bowed to the king.
“Lady Herrin,” said the king, “to what do we owe today’s visit?”
“My lord,” replied the merchant, “I came as soon as I got word of your daughter’s disappearance. Have you found her? Is she safely back in the palace?”
The king was caught off guard by the old woman’s concern for his family. “That is very kind of you to ask, Lady Herrin.” He smiled at her, feeling a sudden new warmth for someone who before today had been nothing but a pain in his side. “But I’m afraid the princess is still missing. I cannot tell you how difficult it has been for me—”
“Well what are you going to do about that black fortress floating over Llorbauth? Everyone is afraid to leave their homes. And all this talk of evacuating the city to Five Spears Hold is killing my business. If you cannot find your daughter, then how will you turn her over to this Magus Xeries?”
The king was stunned silent.
“Well?” the old merchant bellowed. “I expect an answer. You can’t just sit here while the rest of us go broke. You have a responsibility—”
Lifting himself slowly to his feet, the king reached his full height before speaking. “Get out of my chambers, before I have you thrown in the dungeon!” He pointed to the doors, speaking this last word through gritted teeth. He came down two steps, drawing closer to Lady Herrin. “Your words and actions are a thinly veiled attempt to undermine me—and I will not tolerate it.” He took another step, coming up to the merchant’s face, looking her right in the eye. “I am the King of Erlkazar, and you will respect my authority, or you will face the consequences. Have I made myself clear?”
Lady Herrin stumbled back a step, and her bodyguards pulled their swords.
The entire room erupted in the sound of metal grinding on metal as Quinn and forty Magistrates drew steel and converged on the armed men. In moments Lady Herrin’s men had been disarmed and slammed to the floor, held to the ground by their necks, surrounded by the points of more than three dozen blades.
