Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  Liro’s face remained cold as he approached his father. “I saw no reason to be early. Surely none of these well wishes or farewells are for me.”

  “Your mother and sisters would have liked to say their goodbyes.”

  “Goodbye or good riddance?”

  “I would say both apply,” King Rishi muttered under his breath.

  Liro turned to look straight at the King. “No reason to whisper your distaste, Highness. You needn’t spare my feelings.”

  King Rishi glared dangerously, and Aodan turned his dark eye on Liro, shrewd and calculating. The air felt static, and some darkness inside Gib beckoned the older men on, wishing they would put Liro in his place once and for all.

  Koal responded first, his guttural threat akin to an animalistic growl. “Get your arse over there and keep that mouth shut or you’ll find yourself staying in Arden after all.”

  A tight smile pulled at Liro’s mouth as he inclined his head—a mockery of a bow to the King—before turning to take his place by the palace wall. Seeing him standing side by side with his younger brother, Gib wondered how the same features that made Joel beautiful could be so warped to make Liro ugly.

  The Blessed Mages returned to King Rishi’s side. “The arch is secured,” Natori announced.

  “You’re sure?”

  She looked directly at the King, stoic features showing no trace of doubt or worry. “Yes. If the Empire’s spell is malicious, we will know.”

  King Rishi nodded and glanced up at the sky. “It must be nearly time. The envoys should assemble. The rift will open as soon as the sun clears the horizon.”

  Gib didn’t know how the King could tell where the sun was. The pink and violet hues from earlier were gone, smudged out by sinister storm clouds.

  “Envoys!” Koal announced. “It’s time to gather.”

  All around, Gib watched as final goodbyes were exchanged. Cenric’s daughter held her emotions well, not even a single tear slipping through. Rya gave Hasain a final hug. As she relinquished her son, Queen Dahlia took hold of Rya’s hand, and the two mothers wept silently together.

  Marc stepped closer and gave Koal another hearty clap on the shoulder. His smile was wide and lively, but a shadow in his eyes made Gib unsure about its sincerity. “Now remember what I said about those clean knickers. They’re important, should you get caught with your pants down.”

  Koal smiled and put a hand on Marc’s shoulder. “Take care of Beatrice and that baby.”

  Hasain approached, managing to keep up stoic pretenses until he stood before his father.

  King Rishi had gone pale. His courageous mask was showing its wear. Eyes damp, he reached for his son, putting a hand on either side of the young lord’s face. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Hasain grasped his father’s forearms. “I would show you my quality. I only ask that you believe in me.”

  “I know your quality. I have never doubted it, and you need to do the same.” King Rishi took a deep breath before pressing a kiss to Hasain’s forehead. “Be safe. Come back to your family. We love you.”

  Gib felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked into his mentor’s eyes, and Koal smiled down at him. “You’ll have to take care of Marc for me, I’m afraid. I hate to leave you in such a predicament, but you have to understand, no one else wanted him.”

  A hollow laugh escaped Gib’s throat. “I’ll try my best to keep him out of trouble.”

  Koal chuckled and turned next toward King Rishi. He held out his right hand, earning a sneer from the ruler. Even so, the King clasped the offered hand anyway.

  “Don’t make any stupid decisions there,” King Rishi warned.

  “Don’t let Neetra go to war with Shiraz while I’m gone,” the seneschal replied.

  “Without you to separate us in the council room, going to war should be the least of your concerns. If the little rat is dead upon your return, know I only acted on the impulse you’ve squashed for years.” A wolfish grin stole over his face. “And should you die, take comfort, Koal. I’ll be sure to have your tomb engraved with fine praise for the King’s favorite servant.”

  Koal rolled his eyes as he reached down for his rucksack but stopped short when NezReth, of all people, snatched it up for him.

  The Blessed Mage bowed. “Allow me. It will get in the way of your cape.”

  Koal turned to glare at the King. “What’s this?”

  “Don’t try to stop me,” King Rishi replied. “He’s going with you.”

  “And you’ll just sit in the palace and hope no one makes an attack on you?”

  “I gave you the choice to take Aodan, and you refused. NezReth is not a choice. Natori will be here with me. We both know she’s more formidable than him anyway.”

  If NezReth was offended, it didn’t show on his placid face. In fact, the Blessed Mage didn’t seem to be paying attention to their conversation at all. Pale, lavender eyes flashed in the direction of the archway before he made his way to where the envoys stood waiting. Liro, Joel, and Hasain all appeared to do a double take as the Blessed Mage approached. Cenric was the only one who didn’t seem surprised, although it could merely have been his training showing through.

  Koal locked eyes with the King. “Damn you and your pride! This isn’t safe!”

  “There’s no time to argue. And you’re not going to win anyway. Just go.”

  “Fine. But don’t think this conversation is over. When I come back, I’m giving you hell for this.”

  King Rishi smirked. “I suppose I can rest assured you will come back then.”

  Silence settled over the courtyard like a heavy blanket. Joel faced the archway, but as Gib watched, Joel lifted a sleeve and wiped at his eyes. Gib’s heart tore in two. I should be going with him—or be stopping him from going at all! I should be doing something besides standing here, dammit!

  Koal strode across the courtyard. No sooner had he taken his place beside Cenric did the sky open above and rain begin to fall. Gib clutched the terrace rail and watched. Somewhere in the back of his foggy mind, he was aware of rain droplets sinking into his hair and making his scalp cold.

  Joel, I love you. I should have said it. I should have told you.

  A large hand rested atop his shoulder. He twisted his head around to look at Marc. He didn’t return Gib’s gaze or say one word, but tears tracked down both sides of the dean’s face. Gib wiped his own eyes, only now aware that he’d been crying, too.

  As he stole one final glance toward Joel, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and a shiver raced from the tips of his toes to his crown of curls. Gib shuddered as the rain fell in violent pellets against his skin. Something was about to happen. He could feel it.

  As if The Two wept with them, heavy, cold rain began to fall from the clouds. Joel raised his eyes to the darkened sky, thankful the rain helped disguise the tears streaming down his fair cheeks. Refusing to look back, knowing that even a glance at Gib would reduce him to horrible, uncontrolled sobbing, Joel fixed his eyes on the stone arch, the place where the portal would appear.

  At the sound of a throat clearing, Joel turned to meet Hasain’s somber gaze. The young lord’s face was drawn and sullen, and his complexion looked unnaturally blanched, as though the stark white of his mage robes had somehow bled through the fabric and onto his skin. He’s nervous, too.

  “Be sure to keep your thoughts cloaked at all times,” Hasain warned, speaking in a low, hushed tone. “We’ll find no friends where we go, and there are those who would attempt to read your mind if given the opportunity.”

  Joel swallowed the frigid spike in his throat. “I’ve heard of such magery. I’ll keep myself and our party warded always.”

  Hasain gave a curt nod. “As will I.” A firm hand closed around Joel’s forearm as Hasain leveled another warning glance. “Don’t ever let your guard down. And trust no one.”

  “I understand,” Joel replied, holding back a shudder.

  Hasain released the grip on Joel’s arm and m
otioned for him to move closer to the stone arch. “Come. It’s almost time. When the portal opens, we must be ready to pass through.”

  Feeling lightheaded, Joel did as directed and trailed silently behind Hasain. The pair of men came to stand beside the other members of their party—Seneschal Koal, Ambassador Cenric, Liro, and the Blessed Mage, NezReth. His presence had come as a surprise to Joel. No one had mentioned NezReth would be accompanying them to the Northern Empire until moments before, when King Rishi had all but demanded Koal accept the mage into the party.

  Joel stole a sideways glance at the enigmatic figure, hidden beneath a white cloak and layered robe made from wool. NezReth’s strange violet eyes were focused on the stone archway as though it were the most important thing in the world.

  Koal readjusted the red cape cascading down his left shoulder. The cape covered a fitted overcoat embroidered with blue and golden thread, with the image of the rising phoenix sewn onto the fabric. He was dressed elaborately—more so than Joel was used to seeing—though he supposed if what everyone said about the Northern Empire was true, his father wanted to make a good first impression.

  Cenric, too, was dressed to impress. The ambassador wore a blue jerkin similar to those worn by the Healers—though this one, with its brass buttons and laced sleeves, was more ornamental than anything a Healer would wear in the field.

  Joel shifted the weight of his pack from one shoulder to the other. Standing among these grown men in their fine clothing did nothing but remind him how young and unexperienced he truly was. What am I doing here? I don’t belong in such company. A desperate feeling made its way to his throat, and with it, the urge to turn and look back at Gib returned. No. Don’t. If I change my mind now, I’ll be seen as a coward.

  “What’s taking so long?” Liro asked, pulling his cloak tighter as the cold drizzle intensified into steady rainfall.

  Joel would have laughed at his elder brother’s discomfort if he wasn’t feeling so demoralized himself.

  “Why hasn’t the portal opened?”

  Koal cleared his throat pointedly. “Patience, Liro.”

  “There,” NezReth announced a moment later in a wispy voice. He raised one slender hand to point at the archway. “Prepare yourselves.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, Joel shifted his eyes to look. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but as he continued to study the archway, a strange tingling sensation caused the fine hairs on the back of his neck and arms to rise, and he knew something was about to happen. As he watched, tendrils of blue energy began to swirl between the crevasses and cracks of the stone masonry. Like an eerie mist, the magic spread rapidly, sweeping over the entirety of the arch and the empty space inside.

  Joel held his breath. He could feel the power building now—immense amounts of energy pooling in the center of the archway, tearing a hole in the Void between space and time and connecting two places separated by vast distance. Magic crackled like lightning as the energy tendrils anchored to the stones of the arch, and Joel clung to his cloak as a violent blast of wind came hurtling through the portal, lashing all who were gathered in the courtyard.

  Joel squinted his eyes against the barrage of dead leaves and sand pelting his face. Through the veil of the archway, he could see tall pillars and the lush greenery of a garden. It was as though he were looking through an open window or doorway. It is a doorway, Joel reminded himself. And the Northern Empire lies beyond it—

  NezReth’s voice rose above the screaming wind. “The portal is open! We must go now!”

  At first, no one moved. Joel’s own body was frozen in place, paralyzed by fear and doubt. He’d been through portals before—he and Cenric had used a portal to get to and from Shantar—but the immensity of what he was about to do gripped him in sudden terror. I shouldn’t be going. What was I thinking? This isn’t peaceful Shantar. This is the Northern Empire—

  Cenric lurched forward, the first in the party to move. His short hair flew about his head, and the determined frown pulling at his lips only accentuated the age lines around his mouth and eyes. Without so much as a flinch, the ambassador stepped through the threshold.

  “You next, Joel,” Koal commanded. “Hurry now!”

  When Joel didn’t immediately respond, Hasain shoved him hard in the back. “Go!”

  Joel forced his legs to move. It felt as though both appendages were as heavy as marble pillars. Taking several shuddering steps forward, he approached the crackling portal. There was no turning back now. This was it. With eyes slammed shut and breath locked deep inside his chest, Joel jumped through the swirling veil.

  A blast of warm air hit him in the face, and a feeling of complete weightlessness passed over him as he traveled through the rip in the Void. Terrible thoughts of somehow becoming trapped there flew to the front of his mind, but before panic had a chance to set in, the sensation ebbed and he crossed safely to the far side.

  He staggered, momentarily unable to ground his feet, but then NezReth came through and Joel felt a pair of hands on his back, steadying him. The Blessed Mage smiled, but Joel had no time to utter thanks, as the remaining members of the party still waited on the far side of the portal.

  Joel darted out of the way, looking over his shoulder in time to see his father and brother pass through. Hasain brought up the rear. On the Ardenian side of the portal, Joel could still see the faces of his friends and family. King Rishi looked on, a worried frown pulling at his mouth. Beside him stood Queen Dahlia, and only a pace behind her stood Gib, shadowing Dean Marc. Joel couldn’t be sure, but Gib’s eyes appeared to be wet with tears. Joel wished he could now say the words he’d wanted to tell Gib earlier. I love you. I’m so sorry.

  An instant after Hasain’s feet hit the ground, the portal shuddered, and Joel could feel the magic dissipate as it collapsed in on itself. The glowing blue light vanished, and the tendrils of magic seeped back into the cracks of the stonework, disappearing from sight. Where he had seen his friends and family a moment before, stood a wall of granite.

  “Damn portal,” Koal muttered under his breath as he hastily readjusted his crimson cape.

  Joel straightened his own frazzled hair as he looked around. They stood in the middle of a lush garden. Vines, heavy with fruit, clung to wooden trellises, and shrubs with leafy palms lay nestled among vibrant flowers of every color and size. Trees with winding, crooked bases and strange leathery leaves provided shade to the area, and smooth granite and limestone pavers created a walkway along the greenery. At the end of the path lay an open terrace, and beyond that, beautiful stone buildings with terracotta rooftops—reminiscent of the architectural style used at the palace in Silver City—rose in the distance.

  The humid air was warm, which came as a surprise to Joel. Though he’d never been farther north than a few dozen leagues from Silver City, he knew from studying maps that Teivel, the capital city of the Northern Empire, sat high above the Pinnacle Peaks to Arden’s northernmost border—a place known for its harsh winters and only slightly less frigid summers. Why then, did it look and feel as though he’d stepped into a tropical paradise?

  Hasain tugged at his collar, peeling the heavy fabric away from his neck. “Why is it so hot?”

  “Magic,” Cenric replied at once. He nodded toward the sky. “The inner city of Teivel is climate controlled year-round. How else do you think such exotic flora is able to grow this far north?”

  The entire city is kept warm? But how? Joel raised his eyes to study the skyline, and tentatively he reached out with his magic to inspect it. Sure enough, he could detect a strange, iridescent film far above, nearly invisible to the naked eye but easily traceable by magic. It’s a dome, he realized. A barrier made from magic. It must keep the cold out.

  He’d heard of such a thing, but never on such a large scale. During the coldest days of winter in Arden, the rich could hire a mage to bring warmth to a single room in a household, but such a spell was incredibly taxing on a mage’s power reserves so families mostly opt
ed to build the fire in the hearth extra tall instead of paying for such services. If a single Ardenian mage could barely keep one room heated, then how in the two worlds were the mages of the Northern Empire able to keep an entire city warm year-round? The amount of magical energy needed for such a feat seemed incomprehensible. Joel opened his mouth to ask about it, but the sound of approaching footfalls caught his attention.

  A dozen soldiers marched onto the terrace and turned toward the Ardenian party. Each wore splendid armor and longswords on their hips. Breastplates gilded with golden powder covered black, knee-length tunics, and leather sandals with metal studs protected the soldiers’ feet. Twelve sets of calculating eyes regarded the party from within feathered helms made from steel and polished to a sharp shine. Wordlessly, the patrol swept down the path, coming within several paces of Joel and the other Ardenian men, before halting. Joel waited on pins and needles to see what would happen next.

  Movement finally occurred, and some of the soldiers shifted aside as one final newcomer joined the precession. A man dressed in a long golden robe made from sea silk stood out among the dark clothing of the soldiers like the sun against rain clouds. His haughty stance and elaborate clothing suggested he was of high rank, although Joel couldn’t be sure what title the man held. Jewels of sapphire and ruby clung to his white fingers, and blond hair fell to graze his shoulders in perfect ringlets.

  The man clasped both hands together as he regarded the party in silence, his pale blue eyes passing over each of them, studying and undoubtedly judging. Even as the man gave a curt head bow in greeting, no trace of a smile passed across his thin lips and high cheekbones. Joel tried to imagine such a face showing pleasantries and was unable to. This man reminded Joel every bit of Liro or Neetra, and without even knowing him, Joel knew the man would have been welcomed with open arms by the other highborns on the High Council.

  “On behalf of His Grace, Emperor Lichas Sarpedon, Supreme Ruler of all the North and blessed by the Son of Light Himself, I extend a fair greeting and welcome your party to Teivel.” The robed man’s voice was as smooth as the silk he wore, and despite slight discrepancies in pronunciation, Joel was able to follow the conversation. “I am Archmage Adrian Titus, overseer of the Mage Order of Teivel. I will be your host and guide for the longevity of your stay.”