Rise of the Nightkings

by Levi Samuel

  Watching a rather large roach scurry into one of the many sewage drains set into the road, Inyalia shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

  “Don’t get what?”

  “Why anyone would want to live this way.”

  Meeting the eyes locked upon them, Tylor kept pace. “Many have no other choice. They have nothing but the clothes on their back. If my time as a wild elf has taught me anything, it’s the general public cares for nothing, or no one but themselves. They idolize those perceived above them. And they condemn anyone considered lesser.”

  Inyalia was silent. There was a pain in his voice that said more than words. He didn’t have to say it. The tone said it all. He’d suffered at the hands of the people he’d pledged to protect. She felt foolish. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d had everything in her life handed to her. She was the Ranger-General’s daughter. It was no wonder she’d been targeted during her trials. She was just another pampered noble who’d never had to work for anything. Realizing this, she stopped. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I never considered how life was for anyone other than myself.”

  Tylor chuckled. She was young, but she was quick. “You don’t owe me an apology.”

  There was a mild comfort in his words, but it still bothered her. Taking a few exaggerated steps, Inyalia caught up. “Just because I don’t owe it doesn’t mean I won’t offer it. I’ve had a sheltered life. Prior to meeting you, I pretty much had everything handed to me.” Playfully, she shoved him with her shoulder.

  Tylor veered slightly off course, correcting almost instantly. “Just think, now that you’re a wild elf, you gave it all up.”

  “It was the right thing to do. Not because I owe anyone anything, but because I won’t allow someone else to control my actions.”

  “Oh, I understand. Probably more than you know. But, speaking as one who walks the path you so brazenly volunteered for, it’s far from easy. You’ll be met with distain by nearly everyone. Every time you walk into a room, you’ll be the topic of hushed whispers. Rumors and jokes will spread like wildfire. Most of the time, they won’t even bother telling them in a hushed voice.” A feeble smile was all he could offer. Gesturing to their surroundings, Tylor continued. “You’ll be considered little better than these people that you don’t understand.”

  Absorbing his wisdom, Inyalia approached the wooden door they sought. Pausing outside, she turned to meet his gaze. “I appreciate the warning. But there are two benefits you haven’t mentioned.”

  “Oh?”

  “All of those people, the ones who whisper and spread gossip. They’ll never know the freedom we have. And each one will underestimate what we’re capable of.” Unbolting the door, Inyalia pushed it open and stepped inside.

  Nodding to himself, Tylor smiled and followed after her.

  Inside, the pub was packed to near capacity. What had been a roar of voices and chatter moments before was now dead silence. The drop of a pin could have echoed within the cramped public house. All eyes set on the pair of newcomers. From the back of the room, someone coughed, breaking the silence. With that, most of the patrons returned to their delights, occasionally glancing toward the two rangers.

  Inyalia squeezed through the gap of people. Most were kind enough to move, but many held fast, forcing her to go around. Finally, she made her way to the bar. It took a few minutes for the barkeep to approach. When he did, Inyalia was surprised by his words.

  “I don’t want any trouble.” For an elf, he wasn’t much to look at. His lip was curled on one side, and his skin was wrinkled, though he was far from old age. But it was the scar that ran across his face that really stood out. His left eye was glazed over where it had passed, and while the wound was old, it appeared to have festered.

  “I—We weren’t planning on causing any.” She shot him a confused look.

  “Don’t mean trouble won’t find you.”

  “We’ll try to be quick about our business then. We’re looking for a girl. Blonde hair, about this tall. Her name’s Lorena.” Inyalia lowered her hand.

  “Can’t help ya. Ya might try the brothel, two blocks down. Heard they got some new girls.”

  “Oh, for the love of guardians!” Tylor stepped around Inyalia and slammed a small coin purse on the bar. Retracting his hand, he glared at the barkeep, awaiting a more reasonable answer.

  Lifting the purse, the barkeep tossed it a few times, staring up as if lost in thought. His tongue came out of his mouth before a wicked smile replaced it. “Upstairs, third room to the left.”

  “Thank you.” Tylor spat, turning toward the staircase on the far side of the room.

  Inyalia watched Tylor storm toward the stairs. Turning back to the barkeep, she gave an apologetic smile before rushing after Tylor. There was quite a bit she had yet to learn. Fortunately, Tylor would be around to make sure she learned the ropes. She caught up and stepped into his wake, making sure no one took a cheap shot. The last thing they needed at the moment was a pub brawl.

  Reaching the top of the stairs Tylor turned left and march to the intended door. Rapping his knuckles against the sturdy wood, a resounding echo filled the narrow corridor.

  A crash could be heard on the other side, followed by Lorena’s voice. “Ouch. Go aray!” Even through the door, it was obvious she was slurring.

  Refusing to give up so easily, Tylor knocked again.

  Grunting echoed and staggering footsteps approached.

  Inyalia listened to the locking mechanism. It rattled and clicked, though remained stationary. It seemed almost as if the simple device had suddenly become complex.

  A moment later, the door cracked open and Lorena peered out. Her eyes were sunken and red. Her usual straight hair was unkempt and dirty. And she smelled of stale liquor.

  “Wat’d ew what!” Lorena staggered against the door, using it for both balance and protection. She swayed gently, groggily attempting to bring her unwanted visitors into focus.

  Inyalia stepped closer. She’d never expected to find her like this. Lorena had seemed so resilient before now. But a part of her understood.

  The mage had failed her trial in the vision cave. She’d allowed that failure to control her, which led to another failure. She was a talented mage. One of the best conjurors, according to her superiors. But none of that mattered anymore. She’d quit. By resigning her station, she was no longer allowed to study at any tower. And a mage without a tower was like a ranger without an arrow. It was still possible, but much harder.

  Squinting to get a better look, Lorena began to recognize the face before her. “Inallea? What doo you wa—?” Before she could complete her question, she slouched against the door and began to snore.

  Tylor’s arms shot out, catching her before she crashed to the floor. “She’s completely wasted.” Pushing the door open, he carried her to the bed.

  “Not completely. It could have happened to any of us. She just needs to regain her confidence.” Inyalia followed them into the room, closing the door behind her.

  “No, I mean, she’s drunk. Three sheets to the wind, sloshed.”

  “Oh!” Inyalia chuckled, her cheeks flushing at her ignorance. She’d never been drunk before. “Well, I stand by all the stuff I said. Maybe by helping us, we can help her. Besides, I don’t think there’s anyone else who would be willing to help us.”

  Tylor sniffed one of the open bottles lying on the table. The fumes burned his nose. “I know of a few who might.”

  “Do they have her abilities?”

  “No. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask them anyway. We don’t know what we’re going to find. And having a few more sets of eyes can’t hurt. Besides, we don’t know she’ll even agree to help.”

  “She’ll help.” Inyalia insisted.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “No!”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “N—O, no!”

  Inyalia sighed. “Why not?”

  “B
ecause I said.” Lorena insisted, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her head throbbed and she really didn’t want to be having this conversation.

  “That’s not a real reason.”

  “It’s good enough.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  Shaking her head, Lorena glared at the young ranger. “What do you want from me? I helped you get to the halls. That was our agreement. Any truce we had has since expired. I no longer need you. And you no longer need me. Just—Go away. Let me drown in my misery.”

  Tylor pulled the door open and stepped into the hallway. “Come on, Inyalia. We’ve wasted enough time here. We need to go meet the others.”

  Slowly, Inyalia picked herself up. She paused, reaching the threshold. Turning back, she looked upon the fallen mage with pity. “You know, I believe you have what it takes to move mountains. But it doesn’t matter what I believe. If you don’t believe in yourself, you’ll never move a damn thing. But you’re wrong. I still need you. And whether you’re willing to admit it or not, you still need me. If you can find the courage to pull yourself out of this gutter, you’ll find me at the Broken Arrow Inn. But if it takes you longer than two days, don’t bother. We won’t be there.” Inyalia closed the door behind her and rushed to catch up with Tylor.

  A conniving smile resonated over his hand of cards. Sliding a few coins toward the pot at the center of the table, Tylor awaited his opponents.

  Vansin had never been accused of being overly intelligent. But he knew when to fold. “I’m out.” Laying his cards face up, a pair of peasants, the lord of elves, the prince of thieves, and the bear squire stared at the others.

  Tylor, Inyalia, and the fourth sitting at the table, a royal named Gilea, quickly scanned the revealed cards. Silently, they calculated what remained unaccounted for.

  “Too rich for my blood.” Gilea smiled at the intended pun. He was the King’s third cousin, and had no problem reminding everyone of that fact. Tossing his cards so the others could see, he waited in anticipation, wondering which of them was going to take the pot. It hadn’t grown to excessive amounts, but it was sitting just over a month of soldier’s pay.

  Inyalia inspected the cards. Gilea had had a pair of kings, a pair of knights, and a squire of swords. Not a bad hand, but it couldn’t beat hers. Raising an eyebrow to Tylor, she studied his face for a moment. He wore a wicked smirk, suggesting he had something worth holding. But she’d spent enough time around him to know when he wasn’t completely certain. And there weren’t many hands more certain than the one she held. Stealing a quick glance of her cards, she forcefully held a straight face and slid another gold piece to the center of the table. “Call!”

  Tylor smiled at her. “A royal family.” One by one, he dropped his cards atop the pile of coin. “King of Elves. Queen of Swords. Prince of Swords. Lord of Bears. And Lady of Thieves. Read it and weep!” Reaching out, he scooped the pile, pulling his winnings toward him.

  “Not so fast!” Inyalia smiled wide. His flush was impressive, but being of different suits, it didn’t beat her hand. Laying them together, she displayed a Royal Assassination.

  Tylor stared blankly at the pile of assassins surrounding the king of swords. He shook his head in defeat. “How the hell do you keep winning?”

  Inyalia drug the coins toward her, tossing the cards into the center for the next deal. “My father taught me. We used to play almost every night.”

  “I should have guessed. It appears we’ve been hustled, boys.” Tylor took a sip of his drink, watching their last companion step through the tavern door. “Raemus is here.”

  The others turned to look. The newcomer was dressed in ranger armor and carried a quarterstaff in addition to his satchel and pack. Making his way through the crowd of soldiers, rangers, and sailors, he was met with condescending glares.

  Inyalia turned to Tylor. “I understand now.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I understand why someone of his skill would agree to help us.”

  “No, you don’t.” Tylor assured her.

  “How so? Half elves are considered lower than wild elves. What else could it be?”

  Vansin leaned in, joining their conversation. “That one doesn’t care about title or blood.” Chuckling to himself, he took a long draw of his tankard before continuing. “He once punched a Commander in the nose. Funniest thing I ever saw. They tried to throw insubordination charges at him. Didn’t do any good. Army has no authority over Rangers. But even if it did, the half-blood’s too valuable to swing from a rope.”

  Inyalia arched an eyebrow in question.

  Taking pity on her, Tylor leaned close so only she could hear. “He has a bit of a complex. He doesn’t know when to walk away. But that’s a good thing if you need him. He’s taken arrows and sword slashes trying to get to someone.”

  “I heard rumor that he once got hit by a catapult’s shot.” Vansin added.

  “I’m not sure that’s true. But once he sets his mind to something, he’ll do everything within his power to make sure it happens.” Getting to his feet, Tylor extended his hand to the half elf.

  Raemus shook it gently. “Thanks for the invitation.” Looking over the table of outcasts, he gave a respectful bow. “Sorry I’m late. Had to correct a Captain who thought I was his property.” Standing to his full height, he continued. “Anyway, if you’ll still have me, I’m ready to go when you are.”

  Turning to address the table, Tylor looked from one to another. “I guess this is everybody. You all know where we’re headed. And you know we don’t know what to expect when we get there. If you’ve had second thoughts, now’s the time to speak up. We won’t hold it against you.”

  “I will!” Vansin laughed. “If you can’t trust them to stand and fight, you can’t trust them at all.”

  “Okay, so, the rest of us won’t hold it against you.”

  The others laughed.

  Gesturing toward the door, Tylor looked to Inyalia. “Let’s move out.”

  Together, they got to their feet and gathered their effects. Shuffling toward the door, Inyalia kept watch for Lorena, hoping she’d make the right choice. They passed through the opening and into the street.

  The rolling clouds left a continual shadow over the city. Already, the guards were lighting the lamp posts for the coming dark. Most of the commotion in the Military District had died down. The bulk of the army was posted along the outer west wall. It was the most likely place of attack, being nearest the port. The navy’s fleets were docked between Camruun City and Largar’Thor, protecting the entire coastline. If anyone wanted a fight, they were going to be in for a rude awakening. All that was left was the Rangers. They were posted throughout Trendensil. Any attack by land was sure to be reported and prepared for days in advance.

  Making their way through the street, Inyalia took position next to Tylor. This was her expedition. There was no question of that. But he knew the others. And he had combat experience. She couldn’t think of anyone better to serve as the unit commander.

  Reaching the archway that separated the Military District from the crafts square, the band of misfits stepped onto the golden road. It wouldn’t be much longer before the city would be far behind them. If everything went according to plan, they’d defy the king’s orders, be labeled traitors, find and rescue some elves, and likely be exiled from their homes forever. Or it could all fall apart, and they’d walk into an ambush, only to join the ever-growing list of casualties. Either way, it was going to be the adventure of a lifetime.

  “Inyalia!”

  Stopping, Inyalia turned to see Lorena running toward them. She wore clean robes, and had a pack strapped to her shoulder. “I’m glad to see your head’s been removed from your ass.”

  “I deserve that. I’m sorry. If I’m not too late, I’d like to help.”

  Inyalia smiled and clapped they young mage on her shoulder. “I’m happy to have you. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to expedite our exodus, would you?”

  Re
aching into her satchel, Lorena grabbed a handful of spell components and began gathering the energies required to open a portal. “Where would you like to go?”

  “As far south as you can take us.”

  Chapter XVIII

  Storming the Keep

  The air crackled with energy, collected in a single vertical line of orange light. It grew intense and began to spread wide, opening a doorway through space.

  Inyalia stepped through, inspecting the overgrown field around her. Where it had once been green and luscious, the stalks were now wilting and brown. Just ahead, there appeared to be a road where the grass refused to grow. To her right, a forest of leafless trees stretched on as far as the eye could see, their limbs twisted and menacing. Beyond it, tall hills shot into the sky. They weren’t nearly as tall as the mountains to the left, but traveling them would be no easy chore. Hearing the others step through behind her, Inyalia turned to greet them.

  “What a charming place you’ve brought us. I can’t wait to write home about it.” Gilea glanced around, clearly unimpressed with their surroundings.

  “Patience, Gilea. I doubt this is where our journey ends.” Tylor took a defensive position a few steps ahead of the group, trying to identify their location. It looked vaguely familiar, but different.

  The portal closed behind Lorena. Spotting the road, she trekked through the waist high grass, signaling the others to follow. “We’re on the southern road. This intersection will take us to Risolde. The road over there leads to Icefall Pass.”

  Tylor could see it now. He’d traveled the Icefall Pass only a few times, always by caravan. But he’d never taken the time to study the roads leading out of the kingdom. Turning his attention to Inyalia, he gestured to the intersection. “Which way do you want to go?”