Arrival

by William Dickey

  Dong!

  My head splattered against the bell hard enough to send both it and my ears ringing. I fell to the ground and thrashed about desperate to put out the flames but nothing seemed to help. The last thing I remember were the dulcet tones of the chiming bell as the world faded away.

  Chapter 23: Audience

  I awoke on a cold stone floor. My back was stiff, but after having my entire body engulfed in flames, it was nothing.

  I got up, stretched, and tried to get acquainted with my new surroundings. I was in what looked to be a pantry, with crates of food and other odds and ends, but from the smooth marble floors, I knew the building must have held some significance.

  “I survived,” I croaked, realizing I hadn’t seen the characteristic death penalty message that appeared whenever I revived. Although I was clothed, the clothes weren’t mine. Instead, I was draped in a white sheet, folded in the style of a toga. Normally I would have been grateful for the coverage, but the cloth was horrendously itchy and ran so sparingly down my thighs that looked more akin to lingerie than clothing.

  ‘You survived,’ Mai confirmed. ‘You were lucky you know. Next time listen to my advice quicker. Then you wouldn’t need to rely on luck.’

  Before I could convey my agreement, the other person in the room interrupted me.

  “Yes, you’re alive,” said a man from the door behind me. I recognized the voice as belonging to the guard leader who’d been chasing me across the city. “Fortunately, the healers were able to save you. You were in pretty bad shape.”

  “Fortunately?” I questioned. “You started the fire in the first place.”

  “You are a criminal and I harbor no qualms about applying the full fist of justice. It was unfortunate we were unable to prevent you from reaching the sanctuary bell. Now we have to put on this show in front of the Archlord before you can be executed. It is only fortunate that, as a bell-ringer, you survived. Otherwise my men and I would have unwittingly broken the law,” explained the guard.

  “Guard, you sure I’ll be executed?” I asked.

  “Captain,” the guard corrected. “Most definitely, breaching the walls alone carries a death sentence. Additionally you have been charged with: 1 count of breaking and exiting, 2 counts of attempted assault…”

  “Assault? I was the one who was attacked,” I whined.

  “I was talking about a young couple, a… Zelus Reinstone and a… Rose Etheling. They were found at the site of your… landing. They reported you tried to hurt them,” said the captain.

  “What,” I exclaimed. “I did no such thing. All we did is talk. At best-”

  The guard cut me off by returning to his list. “One count of operating a magic vehicle without a license, 47 counts of destruction of property, and 3 counts of littering.”

  “Come on I couldn’t have littered three times,” I said.

  “One count for the wreckage of your magical vehicle. One count for a loose banana peel in the stairwell just outside the Academy’s sanitation services. And one count for some burned rags you left behind in the Central Garden,” said the guard, mechanically.

  “Burned rags? You mean my clothes. The ones you set on fire,” I whined.

  “That is for the Archlord to decide. As far as I’m concerned, they were garbage that you abandoned outside of proper trash receptacles. You littered.”

  “I think you’re going a little overboard. All I did-.”

  “Save your lies for Archlord Quewel. He will decide your fate now,” the guard snickered. “He garners the privilege of disposing of you. I just get to watch. Change into this. You need to look respectable in front of the court.”

  “Court?” I asked.

  “It’s been over a decade since the last fool rang that bell, so many are curious,” said the guard.

  The guardsman handed me another set of clothes, which I quickly changed into without complaint. I had created enough of a fuss already and just wanted to get it over with. I cringed when I looked down and saw what I was wearing. The robes were horrifyingly flamboyant, hot pink with a teal lining. But worse of all was the matching hat, a rimless cylinder with a giant yellow plumed feather sticking out of the top. I adjusted the feather trying to make it look less ridiculous but didn’t have much success.

  “What is this thing?” I muttered.

  ‘It’s a fez. Fezzes are cool,’ said Mai. Although I had to disagree with Mai’s sense of aesthetics, it was nice to have someone by my side as I was escorted down the dark stone corridors of the Archlord’s castle towards what could be a very public execution.

  Eventually, I passed through a large set of double doors into the main hall. Over a hundred people crammed into the chamber. This was the center of power for the northern half of the country so naturally the room contained only the most influential of the city’s denizens. As I was escorted to the front of the room, people in the audience couldn’t help but shove each other out of the way for a better look. For people without television this trial and execution was amongst the greatest forms of entertainment.

  The only part of the room not filled by the spectators was a narrow carpeted walkway leading up to a gilded man settled on an ebony throne. I knew immediately this man was the infamous Archlord, the man who’d decide my fate.

  The Archlord was flanked to either side by a pair of authoritative bookworms that served as legal advisors. It had been a long time since anyone had been in my predicament and someone needed to ensure proper procedure was followed.

  I was led down the walkway to a position ten feet from the trio before coming to a stop.

  “Silence,” began the man on the right, ending the chatter of the nobles.

  “We are gathered here to hear testimony from… your name?” said the squirrely man on the left.

  “Isaac Stein,” I said.

  “To hear testimony from Isaac Stein,” the man continued. “In accordance with Article 3 of the Benedict Proclamation, the ringer of the sanctuary bell is granted an audience with his Eminence Claudius Miniscus Quewel, Archlord of Crystalpeak. In addition, may all be reminded that pursuant to amendment 5 clause 42, the ringer shall be put to death should his plea be deemed unworthy. With that, let the proceedings commence.” The man concluded his speech and looked up at me. The crowded hall was silent for a few awkward seconds before I realized what was going on.

  “Is it my turn to speak?” I asked. The three men nodded reluctantly. For them it was only a formality. I had to be given a chance to speak though no one thought I had anything of significance to say.

  “I didn’t come here to waste your time. I didn’t come to steal anything or hurt anyone, but I can understand the confusion. I have created a mess and for that, I am sorry. But everything I have done has been for the greater good. I came here to warn you that this country is under attack and must ready for war before it is too late. The beastmen are coming and if we aren’t ready all of us will soon find ourselves in the afterlife.” I paused briefly to gauge the room. Everyone was silent many were showing signs of mocking disbelief, but a few including Archlord Quewel showed signs of apprehension.

  “I guess I should start from the beginning,” I said.

  I told them my story, from my arrival on this world, to the present. When I described surviving alone in the wilderness and finding my place in a quiet mountain town, the nobles watching were moved by my carefully chosen words. Women cheered as I fought off gargantuan forest beasts and grown men were brought to tears when I described being betrayed by those I called friends.

  When I spoke of the beastman attack, the grand hall was silent. Over a hundred people in that room, yet you could not hear a single breath and the only, almost phantasmal, sound was the drum of a hundred heavy hearts. And when I spoke of the aftermath, everyone silently prayed, not for the countless lost but for themselves, that I was a rapacious liar, or better yet, that it was all a dream.

  Not wanting to complicate my story with Mai or Lilith, I kept my journey from the Hyperi
on Mountains brief, only saying it was long and arduous.

  “When I reached Crystalpeak, I realized that I couldn’t just start yelling that the beastmen were going to attack. People were unlikely to believe me and if they did, it’d start a panic. So, I decided to wait until I could speak to the Archlord. I figured he’d know what to do.”

  “I tried to see you sir,” I turned to face the Archlord. “But only got as far as the walls, the guards wouldn't let me through. I heard about the sanctuary bell in town and, well you know the rest.”

  “I’m sorry I broke the law, that I broke into the inner city and caused this ruckus. And I’m willing to accept whatever punishment is deemed appropriate,” I said in the most pitiable voice I could manage. “But I only did what was necessary to insure that the horrors of Mill Valley are never visited upon this fine city. And request that my story be verified before my fate is decided.”

  The crowd broke into nervous discussion. No one predicted the intruder would say something so outrageous. Many thought the beastmen couldn’t possibly be a threat, that they were nothing but a bunch of savages, only capable of small raids on defenseless frontier villages, but others weren’t so sure.

  The Archlord sat back in his chair, a cruel grimace plastered across his face as he just sat there, trying to process it all while the two bureaucrats flanking him on either side kept giving their boss nervous glances, worried that he might ask them for their advice on this unprecedented situation. The chatter of the nobles steadily grew until it was deafening.

  “The beastmen are coming.”

  “Those savages may be able to take a few frontier towns but a major city, please.”

  “What will this do to the economy?”

  “Are my northern holdings safe?”

  “SILENCE,” Archlord Quewel bellowed, finally breaking his reticent stance. The rumbling of the crowd immediately died down except for one owl-eyed gentleman who stepped out from the huddled masses.

  “You can’t possibly believe such a ridiculous story. Those primitives can barely feed and clothe themselves, much less be a threat to our mighty nation,” said the man. “Put the liar to death already.”

  Several members of the audience indicated their agreement, causing my heart into a skip a beat.

  “I understand your position, Lord Sepian,” began Archlord Quewel. “But regulations must be followed and this information must be verified. Besides, he is an immortal. Even if we carried out his sentence he would just come back.”

  “Very well,” muttered Sepian and he drew back into the crowd.

  “Lord Hesparian,” said Quewel, turning to the man to his immediate right. “Can we send a man to check this story’s validity?”

  “We could but any scout would take at least a week to check and the Hyperion Mountains are still covered in snow. With all the yetis, any scout we send may not make it and then where would we be. Perhaps Sagemeister Parcelles could provide a simpler option,” suggested Hesparian.

  “Hmmm. Very well, get the Sagemeister. If the damage to the town is as extensive as the immortal claims then perhaps scrying will be sufficient.”

  Two guards left the hall and the chatter in the hall resumed. This time the Archlord let it continue. I shuddered nervously as I waited.

  ‘Stop worrying. It’s not as if it’ll do you any good. We just have to wait for their faux Gandalf to check things out,’ said Mai.

  She was right. There was nothing else to do until this Sagemeister arrived. After fifteen tension filled minutes, the guards returned with an older gentlemen whose fair skin and beard matched his robes making him look like a giant fluffy cloud. The only thing on him that wasn’t white was a body length golden staff topped with a perfectly spherical ruby red crystal.

  “You summoned me,” said Sagemeister Parcelles.

  “This young man claims the beastmen have wiped out a frontier town. We need you to set up a scrying to verify his claims. I would prefer using more conventional means, but my advisors tell me that could be problematic. Could you take a look?” said Quewel.

  “Of course. Just give me a moment.” Parcelles walked to the middle of the room and gestured for the crowd to give him some room. Then the old mage raised his hands and splayed his fingers, launching a cord of light from each of his fingertips. The beams intertwined weaving themselves into a giant screen that levitated overhead, just below the room’s high ceiling.

  The magical ceiling projection held a blurry bird’s eye view of the grand hall filled with nobles looking straight up, or down depending on your perspective, reflecting our collective visage like a mirror. Parcelles lowered his arms, bringing them more to shoulder level as the image in the ‘mirror’ shifted. It moved up, passing through the walls and ceilings of the grand hall, first showing an aerial view of the Archlord’s palatial estate before continuing to zoom out until all of Crystalpeak could be seen in the hovering magical surface.

  “Where is this frontier town?” Parcelles asked. Beads of sweat poured down his temple, strain clearly present in his voice as he struggled to maintain the scrying.

  “Mill Valley, 160 miles north east,” answered Hesparian. “Just on the other side of the Hyperion Mountains. It should be next to a large lake, if that helps.”

  “It does,” Parcelles replied. “But I don’t know how much we’ll be able to see. 160 miles is far for single party scrying, even for me.”

  Parcelles waved his arms to the side and the view shifted in accordance with his hand motions, with each wave the viewpoint moved a dozen miles. As the view moved away from Crystalpeak, it steadily grew more and more blurry. After a number of shifts, the picture stopped on a familiar sight. It was hard to see the city clearly, but a few things could be made out from the haze: a large hole in the town’s outer defenses and a burned out ruin in the town’s center. The only other thing of notice was something clearly absent. When the scrying had been focused on Crystalpeak, even from the distant bird’s eye view, there had been continuous movement, people going about their daily business and animals moving carts of goods. However, over Mill Valley there was nothing, just stillness that even the added blurriness of long distance couldn’t completely explain. Everyone stared at the foggy image of the ruins for a moment before it suddenly disappeared.

  Parcelles collapsed to the ground, the effort of maintaining such a long distance viewing proved too much.

  “It’s alright,” he said as one of the guards helped him to his feet. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you, Sagemeister. You have done well. You may rest now,” said the Archlord before turning to me.

  “So you weren’t completely lying, the town was destroyed,” said Quewel. “Lord Fenron, Mill Valley lies in your territory, correct?”

  “Yes,” answered a nervous noble in a magenta suit as he stepped forward.

  “Yet you were unaware of this incident, according to the boy it was ravaged over a month ago,” said Quewel.

  “Yes,” the nervous man acknowledged.

  “Shouldn’t you be aware of the goings on in your lands? Why else does your position exist? Maybe I should relieve you of such troublesome obligations,” wondered the Archlord aloud, intimidating all the nobles present.

  “But sir,” the nervous noble began. “You have to understand that Mill Valley is entirely isolated during the winter. I can’t be blamed for not knowing what happened, even if I stayed in Dunholme, I wouldn’t have known for several weeks more, after the snow melted and trade resumed. I can’t be blamed for the climate,” said Lord Fenron.

  “Expect a full inquiry into this matter,” the Archlord sighed. “You’re lucky I have greater matters to address.”

  “Archlord,” another man interjected. “Even if the town is destroyed we can’t be sure of the reason.”

  “If I recall correctly, it was only last week that Lady Burgess reported an unusual amount of beastmen activity along the northern border,” said Quewel.

  “Yes,” agreed a woman from the crowd.
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  “That doesn’t mean that they will come here. That they will start a war,” argued Lord Sepian. “If we are to prepare for war we will be forced to retain the military supplies we’ve been selling to the southern territories and we will all suffer regardless of whether or not there is a war.”

  “And if there is a war and we aren’t prepared none of us will be alive to suffer,” countered Lady Burgess.

  “The beastmen haven’t given us a serious fight in millennia. The beasts are strong, but they lack magic and there are too few of them to put up a real fight. We let them exist only because they live in territories not worth taking,” Lord Sepian spat.

  “Enough,” commanded the Archlord interrupting the debating nobles. “Hesparian, send some scouts across the Hyperion Mountains. I know it’s dangerous but we need to make sure the beastmen are responsible for this disaster. In the meantime,” the Archlord continued, raising his voice to insure that all the gathered nobles could hear his next statement. “I expect each noble house to prepare a full two thirds of their forces. Word will be sent to the heads of houses not present.”

  “But…,” started Sepian.

  “We must prepare for war,” the Archlord continued. “If the beastmen are proved to be responsible we must strike back swiftly and with all of our strength. If we let them wipe out a town and fail to respond, what stops them from doing it again. Eventually we will have to fight. Better now when we are at our strongest than after the beastmen have bled us. With that, this assembly is dismissed. Marshal your forces. We will speak more in the coming days as we gather more intelligence on the situation.”

  The gathering broke up, the crowd of nobles that filled the audience chamber moved to exit.

  “Ehh… What about me?” I asked. Things seemed to have been going well enough on its own so I had been just standing there in the middle of it while everything unfolded.

  Hesparian, the attendant to the Archlord’s right turned to me and said, “Stay, we have more to discuss.”