Rise of the Nightkings

by Levi Samuel

  Inyalia had no use for any of it. It was never about the worship. It was these same people who’d singled her out for reasons beyond her control. In her mind, they were no different than Lorena. But perhaps, now that she’d taken a stand, they’d leave her alone and let her get on with her training. Making her way through the crowd, Inyalia found the one face she wanted to see.

  Tylor leaned against the same post he always supported when she was in the pit. A prideful smirk rested upon his lips.

  A gentle breeze passed through the plump leaves of the unnaturally large tree. Inyalia sat among its twisted branches, buried in the green cover. Studying the road intently, she waited for her target to appear. She’d stalked him most of the day, waiting for the perfect opportunity. He was moving slower than usual, but he also had a designated path he was restricted to. That meant his arrival was imminent.

  An unexpected sound drew her attention away from the road. Stealing a glance down the mountain side, the multiple layers of inhabited landscape stretched on for miles. Her initial assessment of Caelum had been wrong. It was so much more than a simple city. The sacred training ground was welcome to any being in search of higher learning. It had a way of calling those who sought its influence. And only those who were called were able to reach it. At least that’s how it’d been explained. And very few were called. In fact, according to Tylor, about one in a hundred rangers found their way here. But this place wasn’t restricted to just rangers.

  The citizens of Caelum followed a variety of paths. Rangers, magi, scholars, even the occasional soldier ended up on the mountain. But only a select few remained beyond their training. Those few were known as the Emerald Circle. They maintained the upkeep of Caelum, and ensured it remained a safe place for those in search of knowledge.

  Upon her arrival, Inyalia was introduced to the masters of the circle. It was supposedly tradition for all new recruits to meet them. In that meeting, her curriculum had been decided. Though Inyalia hadn’t found it overly intrusive. She had a total of four classes that met once a week. The rest of her time was spent training with Tylor, though it seemed most of his methods revolved around testing her capabilities. He’d push her to her limits, and then take a few steps beyond. She enjoyed their sessions, but she always needed a day or two to recover afterward.

  Of all the masters of the circle, only one caught Inyalia’s attention. She was an elven girl, much like herself, but about Vera’s age. Though her age was misleading. Serena, the master archer, was nearly two thousand cycles old. Inyalia didn’t believe it at first. Few elves reached their six-hundredth cycle. But Serena had been more than happy to explain.

  The Emerald Circle was more than the masters of their arts. They were the apprentices of The Watcher, the founder of Caelum and establisher of its laws. But he couldn’t maintain it himself. In exchange for their assistance, any member of the circle was bestowed near immortality. So long as they remained in Caelum, they would not age. This allowed them the time to become the masters they were, while allowing the opportunity to live a full life upon their retirement.

  Inyalia found it an interesting tale, but somewhat farfetched. She’d seen The Watcher. His subtly pointed ears made him look like a half-elf, but he was not. He was something else. She wasn’t sure what race he was, though he had a strong elven air about him. Like the circle, he didn’t appear overly old, though he was fully grown. Being a mage, she hadn’t spent much time around him, but when he was present, she always felt like he was watching her, even when faced away. Inyalia believed that was why they called him The Watcher.

  Approaching footsteps pulled her to the task at hand. Carefully, quietly, Inyalia peeked beneath her, watching the figure approach from the south. She’d found her mark.

  Tylor walked casually along the road, keeping an eye to his surroundings. He didn’t know when she’d strike, or even where. But it was bound to happen sooner or later, though he preferred sooner. Her task was simple. Locate, execute, and escape. The rangers were not assassins. But this particular trial required elements of stealth, scouting, agility, accuracy, and wit. All things an assassin needed. And right now, all things Inyalia needed.

  She’d seemed downright giddy when he offered her the chance to shoot him. So much so that he feared she wouldn’t wait for the challenge to begin. He wasn’t looking forward to being shot. Even though all she had was blunt tips, they still hurt. And it wasn’t like she couldn’t fail. There were an undetermined number of rangers on the lookout. If she was spotted by anyone before the shot went off, she wouldn’t get another chance. But he didn’t think that would happen. Inyalia was a competent trainee. She’d proven herself ahead of the curve many times over. But he still had to push her limits. That was the only way she’d reach her full potential. Whistling to himself, Tylor approached a fork in the road and turned east.

  Waiting for him to pass, Inyalia dropped to a lower branch. She was exposed, but the fewer leaves allowed quieter movement. Carefully making her way to the thinner limbs, she straddled the small gap and climbed into another tree, keeping pace with her target. She’d been lucky to get ahead of him. It’d taken the better part of the day to memorize his routine and calculate his timing. All she had to do now was finish the assignment. Tylor was headed for the leisure tier ramp. He’d passed through three times since she’d located him. Each time, he stopped at the pub, spent a one-thousand-count inside, and finally exited the side door to continue his path. This was the last time. She was going to end it before he could make it a fourth.

  Extending her reach, Inyalia grabbed hold of the lower branches of another tree and jumped. It was a bit of a risk, changing tiers in such a way, but she wouldn’t have gained ground had she not. Scaling to the highest branch, Inyalia felt the soft wood flex beneath her weight. It carried her to the next in lineup. She wrapped her arms around the smooth bark, hugging tight as the leafy crown sprung back. It was risky, but it bought her exactly six-hundred and twenty-two counts before Tylor would be beneath her again.

  Moving into position, Inyalia watched him approach the Ranger’s Lodge. It was but one of the many settlements along the bluff. He’d only stopped there once before, first thing in the morning. It’d taken him nearly an hour to come out that time. She didn’t feel like waiting again. Besides, it’d be dark before long and she wasn’t fond of tracking him all night. It was now or never. If he got inside there was no telling when he’d come out.

  Inyalia huddled into the mass of limbs and leaves, ensuring she was hidden on all sides. Stringing her bow, she nocked one of the blunt tipped arrows, stealing a quick glance at the marking carved in the shaft. Each one held a similar etching, though they were all extremely different. It was her way of identifying one from another. Inyalia wanted to carry one of her real arrows, but Tylor wouldn’t allow it. He said he wouldn’t risk her killing him by mistake. She understood, but it still stung. She’d nearly master the quick draw technique. In fact, of the last twenty attempts, she’d fired the correct arrow eighteen times. With those numbers, how could he refuse her? Grinning, Inyalia pressed through the leaves, bow drawn and ready to fire. All she had to do was take aim. And when she did, he was going to pay for his transgressions.

  Sighting along the thin wooden shaft, Inyalia aligned his center mass, adjusting for the half-inch correction, wind, and elevation. Certain of her shot, she released. The arrow flexed under the sudden pressure. Realizing it had been fired, the force transferred, launching the arrow at breakneck speed toward its target. Inyalia watched the manicured feathers cut through the air as if moving in slow motion. They furled outward, grabbing the wind as it sailed, twisting the shaft like a corkscrew. It flew true, perfectly aligned to its mark.

  Tylor stepped to the doorway of the Ranger’s Lodge. Before he could pass the threshold, a sudden force hit him between the shoulders, shoving him into the wooden frame. He doubled in pain, knees slamming to the floor. Breath forced from his lungs, it took everything he had to stay calm. Regardless of how prepared
he’d believed himself, an arrow to the back proved him wrong. Inhaling through his nose, Tylor pulled himself against the post and glanced around in search of the arrow’s source. Trailing its trajectory, he spotted Inyalia near the top of a tree at the far side of the road. Ignoring the growing pain in his chest, he lifted his arm and pointed. “Assassin! Assassin in the trees!” His voice was weak, constricted by lack of breath, but it was enough to signal the alarm.

  Horns echoed all around. Panic erupted in Inyalia’s stomach. The words were just loud enough to hear, but they triggered a fear deep inside. She was no assassin. Why would he say that? None of this was supposed to be part of the test. At least not a part he’d told her about. But she was beginning to realize there was much he wasn’t going to tell her.

  Rangers filed from the lodge, bows drawn and arrows ready. Movement echoed in the surrounding trees, flashes of armor between the leaves. Like a well-trained unit, they strategically swarmed the area, forming a perimeter. Within seconds, they were in position and expanding outward, entrapping her.

  Inyalia needed to move, and quickly. She hadn’t prepared herself for this. And having learned from past experience, she had a pretty good idea being caught would count as a failure. Quickly scanning the approaching rangers, she knew she had less than ten seconds to make a decision. Nocking two arrows at once, Inyalia spaced them with a finger. It was a long and difficult shot, but she’d managed it once before. Taking aim at the ground between the two approaching rangers, Inyalia exhaled and released the string. Both arrows rocketed toward their targets. The first made contact, striking the closest in the chest. The second was a little low. It hit the ground and bounced between his legs. It was a bad shot, but it served its purpose. They both dropped.

  Using the opportunity to her advantage, having gained a few seconds before they’d give away her position, Inyalia turned and sprinted across the thick branch. Her leather soled boots were slick against the smooth bark, but the flex allowed her to feel each step a little easier. She reached the end of the run and leapt to the next tree. Catching the branches, Inyalia pulled herself up. Shouts echoed behind her. She’d been located, but there was no time to worry about it.

  Wrapping her arms around the trunk, Inyalia slid to a lower branch and skirted around the side. Tree by tree, branch by branch, she worked her way toward the bluff’s edge.

  Her heart raced within her chest. Seeing the one tree she’d longed to reach, Inyalia released the swinging branch and stepped onto the elevated perch. The rangers were hot on her tail. She could hear them. Arrows planked around her, hitting limbs, narrowly passing her by. As scary as it was, it offered two revelations. The first, they were firing live. And the second, they weren’t very good shots. But she was thankful for that.

  And arrow lodged into the trunk at her feet. It was closer than she liked. Using it as a step, Inyalia jumped and grabbed hold of a branch she wouldn’t have been able to reach otherwise. She had to go now. They were too close to delay any longer. Pulling herself up, Inyalia gained her footing and broke into a sprint. Approaching the end of the limb, she swallowed her fear. She couldn’t afford it. It would cause her to slow. The rapidly thinning wood began to flex. Now was her time.

  Inyalia jumped, using the flexing tree to her advantage. With the sudden lack of weight, it shot up, giving her the slightest lift. She reached the apex, spreading her arms wide, bow in one hand, hope in the other. If she missed, it’d be a long drop to a sudden stop. And it’d be about as forgiving as the arrows sailing past her.

  A barrage of juicy leaves slapped as she passed. She was falling. But at least she’d made the distance. That would provide the space she needed to evade. Branches were flying past. She needed the slow before she hit something solid. Grabbing at anything and everything within reach, Inyalia caught one of the thinner limbs. It ripped through her gloved grip, gathering leaves and bark alike. One of the forks snagged, slowing her. The limb flexed beneath the exaggerated weight. Unable to take anymore, it snapped. It wasn’t much, but it allowed her to orient herself.

  With feet beneath her, Inyalia continued her descent. She had to stop before she hit the ground. At this height she was going to break her legs, that was if it didn’t outright kill her. A large limb came into view. She was headed straight toward it. Bracing herself, Inyalia brought her feet together, angling her toes toward her knees. The impact was going to hurt, much less if she’d angled them down, but she needed the limb to pass in front of her. Heel side wouldn’t have done that.

  As expected, her feet hit the branch. The slick soles slid against the bark, throwing her to the side. Her calve muscles screamed in protest, but they held. Offset just enough, she passed the branch, seeing her opportunity. Inyalia threw her arms, desperate to lock them around the wood. Between the speed of her fall and the angle, the force broke her hold before it could be established. She could feel the pressure of the bark against her bracers. It made her glad she wasn’t bare skinned. It would have shredded her arms, though nowhere near to the extent of the trees back home.

  Slipping, straining against her weight, Inyalia clapped her hands to each side of the branch. It worked, but it wouldn’t last long. Dangling, her arms trembled to keep pressure. She was growing weaker by the moment, slipping little by little. Inyalia stole a glance beneath her, hoping maybe there was something she could step onto. Maybe something a little safer to grab. Her hopes were dashed. All that remained was the ground, too far away. If she rolled, there was a chance the impact wouldn’t cause long term damage, but it was a big risk, too big. Hurting herself was about the stupidest thing she could do right now. Not only would she fail, but she’d have to heal before she could try again. Provided she was allowed a second chance. That had never been discussed. She wondered what would happen if she failed. But now was not the time.

  Weighing her options, Inyalia made a decision. She kicked her legs front to back. It made her grip even weaker, but she had to do something. Anything was better than waiting to fall. And at least this way, she could say she tried.

  Each kick gave a bit more momentum, but at the cost of her waning stability. Her palms were no longer in contact. All that remained was her finger tips, shakily wedged into the bark. She needed just a little more height. Kicking as hard as she could, Inyalia’s hands came free. She was falling. Closing her eyes, expecting pain, she felt her descent cease. Peeking through her clenched eyelids, she was hanging just beneath the branch, her legs wrapped and hooked at the ankle. Relief washed over her, drowning the fear that had grown in her gut. She’d made it. She wasn’t going to fall.

  Hanging there a moment, enjoying what she’d just accomplished, Inyalia let out a heavy sigh. It was time to move. She’d gained quite a bit of ground with such a stupid stunt, but it wouldn’t stop them forever. Bending at the waist, Inyalia threw her arms around the branch. Now that she wasn’t falling at terminal velocity, she was able to lock them with little effort. It took some strength to reposition herself, but she managed to climb to the top of her perch. All things considered, it was a nice branch for walking, though she’d spent far too much time on it.

  Deciding her next move, Inyalia calculated how much time she had. The rangers wouldn’t have to go all the way to the ramp, but they also weren’t likely to follow her path. But most of the time she’d made was lost when she decided to save her legs. They would likely be within arrow range within the next three minutes.

  An arrow hit the tree beside her. “I was wrong!” Inyalia took shelter behind the trunk. Working her way around, she dropped to the next lowest branch. Keeping the tree between herself and the rangers, she scaled down a branch at a time. Finally, she was low enough to jump without fear of damage. Peeking around the trunk, she located three rangers. They were still on the higher shelf. That explained why they were within range. She hadn’t considered that option. But she was glad they decided to wait until she was on her feet. She hoped they didn’t really want to kill her after all.

  Scouting the gr
ound beneath her, Inyalia dropped into the soft grass. The leaves were thick enough to cover her movement from above, but they did little for anyone on the ground. She had to find somewhere to hide until she could figure out a plan.

  Making her way along the bluff’s edge, careful to stay beneath the cover of trees, Inyalia came to the large river that cut through the middle of Caelum. It started in the mountains and snaked its way along each shelf, providing water to the entire city. It was a common joke to piss in it at the top and see if anyone below noticed. Though considering the order of the tiers, the mages didn’t find much humor in it. And so far, no one would admit to actually doing it.

  Inyalia stole a glance behind her. She could see figures in the distance, though they were too far away to offer much detail. If she was fast, she was certain she could slip into the water without being seen. But where could she go? The nearest bridge was too far away, and that was a likely hiding spot. Suddenly, an idea came to her.

  Taking a deep breath, Inyalia dove into the freezing water. It was colder than she’d expected. Her body was already stiffening. Allowing herself to be carried by the current, she floated toward the bluff’s edge. Straining against instinct, Inyalia locked both hands around her bow. Stabbing as hard as she could, she buried the end in the mossy dirt along the shore. It was a dangerous gambit, one that would result in death if she went over the falls. Even if she did survive, she wasn’t sure she’d want to.

  Several stones had collected at the crest, slowing the water before it fell to the next level. Struggling against her body, Inyalia wedged her bow between the rocks, creating a barrier. The force of the water sucked her against the wooden device, but it held. Using every ounce of strength she possessed, Inyalia clawed at the stones, working her way out of the current. She found a crevice where one of the stones had washed away. The water swirled there, but it wasn’t so strong she couldn’t move. Wiggling herself into the gap, Inyalia submerged everything but her face. She was concealed on all sides, save for directly above. And it was unlikely her pursuers would check the edge of the fall. After all, who would be crazy enough to hide there? But she did just dive out of a tree and into another on a lower tier. If that didn’t qualify as crazy, she didn’t know what would.