Knightfall: Book Four of the Nightlord series

by Garon Whited

  I wondered why T’yl sealed this room. Because, lacking an enchanted arch, it was no longer useful? Or to keep prying eyes away from it? As a landing zone if I ever decided to come back? Or did it bring back too many unpleasant thoughts? Or did the mountain seal it without being told?

  Whatever the reason, the mountain had no objections to making the room useful again. Looking at the new arch, I wondered when I would have time to enchant it, if ever. Or even if I should. I might be leaving before the effort of building a permanent enchantment into it could pay off. Then again, an enchanted gate is easier to use, which might make it easier to move pieces around on the game board so I could leave…

  Later. Right now, I needed to summon a Hero. This involved a little spell work and more than a little power. Fortunately, I didn’t need a full gate spell, just one to deal with minor details like space, not an adjustment of universal constants. And, since it was night, I had the power to activate it.

  I went ahead and built a small power-jet for it, sucking in magic and pumping it into the spell structure. The last thing I needed was to feel hungry. I have a Demon King reputation to lose.

  Sir Sedrick answered his mirror and I explained the basics of how gate travel worked. We signed off and he went looking for an appropriate opening. When he called back, he was in front of a tunnel mouth about the right size.

  The space between us rippled, shifted, and the interior of the archway flushed away, snapped back.

  Sir Sedrick led his horse through as quickly as possible; a dog followed him, keeping close to his heel. When the horse was fully across the threshold, I shut the spell down and the image of a distant tunnel ripped into nothingness. Sedrick kept control of the horse and snapped a sharp command at the dog. Neither of the animals seemed pleased to see me. Well, they just stepped through a teleportation gate into a cave with a predator. I suppose they can’t be blamed.

  Once they were calmed a bit—the dog looked at me suspiciously and the horse laid its ears back only intermittently—Sedrick looked over the archway.

  “Impressive,” he noted. “That’s at least a two-day trip in a matter of a few paces.”

  “We can do better,” I assured him. “Ready to go to the city of magicians?”

  “A common error,” he replied. “It has the Academy, but it is hardly a city of magicians. It simply has many of them.”

  “A fair point. And, come to think of it, do you have anywhere in particular you would like to come out? You’ve been there, right?”

  “It was long ago, before I was a Hero. Anywhere reasonably close will be fine.”

  “I’ll see what I can find.” I dialed up my pocket mirror again and started scrolling across the world, following roads westward. Tolcaren, Carrillon… farther. Gain some altitude and look down. Small lake with a town on it—Riverpool, probably. But where is Arondael? I shifted the type of view, switching from visible light to magical auras. I should have done that in the first place. Boom. There was a blazing beacon of city, impossible to miss.

  “Here we are,” I said, and zoomed in. I shifted back to normal lighting, looking around for someplace outside the city itself. It might be a city full of magicians—or a college town catering to their Academy—but it still had farms outside the walls, and farms mean barns.

  “How’s that one look?” I asked, pointing at a barn. “If I open a gate over the barn doors, you’ll step out into their farmyard.”

  “Will it hurt the barn?”

  “I wouldn’t think so. I’m using the doorframe as a locus, not actually doing anything… wait. The doors are closed, so they’ll be in the plane of the forming gate…” I thought about it. “As far as I know, I’ve never done exactly this before. But if anything gets damaged, it’ll be the barn doors.” I fished in a pocket—I ordered pockets sewn into my trousers—and pulled out some of the new coins Seldar had struck. “Here. Take these. If there’s any problem, please tender my apologies.”

  “Of course,” Sedrick agreed, taking the coins and examining them. “Good likeness.”

  “If you say so. Is that enough?”

  “For a barn, yes. I could use more, if you can spare it.”

  “I don’t have much money on me. Have you got a bowl or cup or something?”

  He produced a small cooking pot from the gear on his horse. I scratched some symbols on the outside, just under the rim. Nothing too arcane. They were mostly to make the thing unique and easily identifiable when I wanted to target it. One of my larger gate-rings could lock on to the pot and I could dump money through it. I also stretched one of the metal gate-rings, widening it a little to exactly match the shape and size of the pot’s rim. Every little bit of correspondence helps.

  I explained the process to Sedrick. He promised to answer my mirror call when I wanted to send money. I allowed as to how I expected he would. Then it was time to go.

  I locked on to the barn, opened the gate, and closed it behind him.

  Still no Tort. Still no T’yl. Not yet. I wouldn’t call it a productive evening, but it wasn’t a total loss, either. I decided to try and make the night a trifle more productive. I could use a good, solid feeling of accomplishment.

  Maybe another magic ring? One for a mental defense, based on my brain-bunker spells? It would be good to have; I’ve had enough trouble with mental effects. True, it wouldn’t help against things like evil aspects of my own personality being sucked in through tendrils, but it would be helpful against things like the mental dueling spell one guy tried.

  Oh! And something to perform my twice-daily cleaning spell! Maybe something for disguising my inhuman coloration at night. Those would be just plain convenient.

  Hmm. Could I make something to do both the cleaning and the disguise? Having it do two things would be difficult, but one affected only light, the other affected only matter, and neither would fundamentally interfere with the other. Maybe, if I set them up to operate off the same magical absorption matrix, I could have separate spell structures for the effect and simply switch between the two. If only one could operate at a time, would it be any easier to design?

  This was a puzzle I could enjoy. I figured I deserved one. I spent the rest of the night in my mental study, working out spell designs and alternate ways to make them work.

  I finally settled on the technique, taken mostly from wizard staves and such. A ring with multiple crystals or gems could have the individual gems enchanted with spell effects. The ring itself could act as a magical intake to feed all the spells, but it could only operate one at a time. This differed from a dedicated magical item, with one spell, which could be activated and left to run while another item was activated. The multi-gem setup would require shutting off one function to start another one, but I didn’t see much trouble with alternating between disguise spells and cleaning spells.

  Which reminds me. I still need to double-check about the rings and amulet the Demon King wore. I had them on when the ghost zapped the crap out of me. Were they still in Carrillon? I’ll ask the guys when one of them comes on duty.

  Friday, February 27th

  Torvil took over bodyguard detail around dawn. He waited in my chambers while I went through the morning rituals—shower, trim the talons down to normal fingernails, all the usual stuff.

  Of course, I got a call from Kammen the moment I stepped into the waterfall. Typical.

  Fortunately, my pocket mirror isn’t like a mobile phone; it’s not going to short out if it gets wet. The image may be distorted by the water, but it still works.

  “Got a problem,” Kammen said.

  “I can imagine. I’ve got some of my own.” I wiped at the mirror and held it close to examine it. “Are you in a cell?”

  “Nope. I’m in a wardrobe.”

  “I’m tempted to ask why.”

  “Sunrise. Got the curtains drawn and shutters latched, but I don’t wanna set you on fire by accident.”

  “You raise a disturbing point,” I admitted. “I don’t know if a sunrise comm
unication can do that.”

  “Didn’t know, myself, so I didn’t do it.”

  “Remind me to give you a position of responsibility.”

  “Got one, thanks.”

  “In that case, how about I just say ‘good thinking,’ and move on?”

  “I’m okay with it.”

  “How did you fit in a wardrobe, anyway? You’re not a small man.”

  “It’s a big wardrobe, and I’m not wearing my armor.”

  “If it’s a sufficiently sizable wardrobe, I guess I can believe that. Just don’t fall out the back into another universe. Oh! By the way, do you know what became of the magical jewelry I was wearing when I went to visit Lissette? Before the ghost electrocuted me.”

  “I know it was taken off you,” he replied. “One of the rings discharged, but I didn’t have time to work out what it did. Something you wore interfered with spells to determine the damage, so we took it all off you.”

  “Fair enough. Do you know where my stuff is?”

  “Still here in Carrillon, I think. After you left, Thomen took possession of your magic stuff. All except Firebrand, of course.”

  “Of course he did,” I sighed.

  “Can I report? It’s cramped and stuffy in here.”

  “I’m sorry. Please, go ahead.”

  “Talked to… I talked to a couple of people I know. That project you wanted to look at? It’s not a magical project.”

  “I’m not entirely sure what you mean.”

  “Figures. Can you call me back and do something to prevent me being overheard?”

  “I think so. Are you in the palace?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you get out? The spells around it are troublesome for incoming calls.”

  “I’ll call you when I’m ready, then.”

  “Works for me.”

  He closed the connection and I finished dressing for the day. Anticipating the arrival of the Rethven fleet this afternoon, I wore the armored underwear and both swords.

  Why do you even have that thing anymore, Boss?

  “It’s good to have a spare.”

  What, just in case I break?

  “For carving things I don’t want you to touch. It’s expendable. You are not.”

  Firebrand was silent for several seconds while I finished belting on my gear.

  I’m… it began, then started over. Sometimes I forget why I like you, Boss.

  “Beg pardon?”

  Despite his amazing cruelty, I liked the Demon King, at least a little. He killed things and I got to help. Before that, Bob was pretty interesting, too. While waging a holy war under the Eastrange, he was nothing but fun. That sort of thing. But they all thought of me as… I don’t know. A thing. A big chunk of metal with pyrotechnic issues and a sharp edge. They thought of me as a sword.

  “You are a sword,” I pointed out. “An intelligent one. A sentient, sapient being.”

  That’s my point. Either they didn’t know or didn’t care, Boss. But you? You care.

  “I do not.”

  You can’t fool me, Boss.

  “I’m trying to give nightlords a bad name.”

  They already have one.

  “And you need to learn when I’m avoiding an awkward topic by deflecting it with humor.”

  That was humor?

  “I swear, once I retire from this king business, I’m finding an anvil and sticking you in it.”

  I’m not sure what you mean. What for? I mean, I could melt it if you wanted…

  “Ancient cultural reference to a sword in a stone. The rightful king was the only one who could pull it out.”

  You mean I’d get to pick the new King?

  “I’m already reconsidering.”

  I settled down at the conference table with Seldar and some of the council. They don’t all join me for breakfast, but each of them shows up at some point during the morning. Fortunately, Seldar and Dantos keep things organized enough so I seem to be free around lunch, barring disasters and surprises.

  Seldar had the usual pile of things to go through, including a few health-related cases, some upcoming deaths, and a half-dozen men in armor who wanted to know if I needed knights. The health cases weren’t too troublesome; simply understanding the germ theory of disease puts me way ahead of most of the priests and wizards. It also means I spend a lot less energy on spells to fix the problems. It does make me wonder, though, why the so-called gods don’t fix certain things. Are they being random, arbitrary, or do they simply charge too much for their services?

  I read something about addiction and gambling. If I recall right, rats pressed a lever and got a reward. When the experimenters set it up so the lever delivered a reward every time, the rats learned to press the lever. When the experimenters set it up so the lever delivered a reward randomly—say, once in every three or four presses of the lever—the rats pressed the lever much more frequently than required to receive the same reward.

  Is that what these energy-state beings are doing? Encouraging people to pray, and pray hard, frequently and with real effort, in order to maximize the amount of energy humans project into the energy-state realm? Is that what we are to them, rats in boxes, pressing levers to get treats?

  The thought made me grumpy all morning.

  As for the potential knights, I laid down the policy. Would-be knights go through what I think of as the weeding-out process before they even get to the interview. I don’t want to sift through souls all night. For one thing, it takes time and effort, but the worst part is how dirty I feel afterward. I don’t like looking inside someone’s soul. I do it because it’s sometimes vital to know what evil lurks in the hearts of men, but I hate the necessity that drives me to do so. It’s not my soul. It should be left alone until its time to depart.

  The upcoming deaths we scheduled for later.

  “May I ask why, Sire?” Seldar wanted to know.

  “Mochara is about to be invaded.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m the King, right? Defending Mochara is serious business.”

  “But that does not mean you will be unavailable.”

  “I’m not sure I can fight off an invasion in one afternoon,” I pointed out.

  “And you need not, Sire. It is the purpose of kings to defend the realm, not every city or citizen.”

  “If you’re telling me I’m not supposed to go to Mochara and face off with invaders, you might want to find a better chair.”

  “Sire?”

  “I’ll have it put in a room where you can chatter on all you want while I’m in Mochara.”

  “I see. Is there nothing I might say to change your mind, Your Majesty?”

  I could tell he was upset. He knows not to call me that.

  “If you have the plan of Mochara’s defense all set up and can assure me my presence will not help in any way, I’ll be happy to hear it.”

  Seldar said nothing, but his lips thinned in frustration. I could sympathize with his feelings and it hurt me to have to do this to him, but I can’t—won’t—sit safely at home while people fight each other over something revolving around me.

  I’m not the center of the universe. It doesn’t spin on my axis. Hell, this place doesn’t even spin. But a lot of stuff revolves around the throne, and those things are entirely my problem.

  “Don’t take it so hard,” I advised. “I plan to safeguard myself as much as possible. Besides, it’ll be a good thing. People will see me and know I take my responsibilities seriously.”

  “I am more than a little concerned about those within Mochara who might be more loyal to Thomen than to you, Sire.”

  “My presence should help, then. They won’t want to attract my personal attention, will they?”

  “I find myself surprised. You make an annoying amount of sense, Sire. I still believe it to be an unacceptable risk.”

  “Anyone else?” I asked, looking around the conference table. Tianna shrugged, apparently unwilling to express an opinion. Nothar looked
at her, looked at me, and copied her gesture. The only person to speak up was Liet.

  “If Your Majesty wishes, we can take the dying to the Temple of the Grey Lady to await your personal attention. If they pass on involuntarily, they will be cared for.”

  “Sensible,” I agreed. “If they’ll agree to it—and if there is no objection from the Grey Lady—I’ll be happy to call on them there.” Liet looked startled, but nodded agreement. She probably didn’t expect me to make a house call. I looked at Seldar. “Well? Are you going to insist I stay here, or are you going to set up bodyguards and security?”

  “If I insist, will you stay?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then I shall prepare your security, Sire.”

  “Good man. What else do we—” I broke off as my pocket mirror chimed. “One moment, please.” I dug it out and made a mental note to install a silent mode. It was Kammen. I excused myself and hurried to the workroom, trailing a jogging Torvil. He kept up surprisingly well. Not only big and strong, but fast, too. I outdid myself on those kids.

  I activated the large mirror. A little fiddling with the thing let me transfer the call. Further fiddling altered the way it sent and received signal. It was like talking to Kammen down a length of pipe, but anyone trying to listen in should get nothing but a faceful of static. It would work for a while, but anyone good enough to listen in on a call in the first place would eventually figure out a way through it.

  I should have paid more attention when I took classes on information theory and data security. I need to know more about encryption.

  “Okay, we should be secure,” I told him. “What’s up?”

  “The Queen’s got troubles,” he said. “Thomen’s been doing something magic in her head, but Malana thinks it’s a thing he learned from that eastern adept.”

  “What eastern adept?”

  “The—oh. Right. There’s a guy with weird spells. People go to him when they want to forget a thing, like after they lose a loved one, or something. He takes it away, for a price.”

  “Permanently?”

  “Yep. It’s not a spell that keeps going. It’s a spell to change something. When he’s done, there’s no spell to get rid of or to wear off.”