Douglas Niles - The Heir of Kayolin

If any palace guards were present, they apparently had more pressing matters to concern them than the escape of two elderly prisoners. In any event, no one even spoke to the pair as they dodged around the larger piles of debris and crawled through the holes and trenches that seemed strategically placed to block their path. The palace wall loomed here and there, but in many places deep notches cut into that barrier, some extending all the way to the ground.

Soon they were across the courtyard and out of the palace, using one of the gaps in the outer wall to make good their escape. The great square of Norbardin was obscured by smoke, apparently coming from dozens of individual fires, but they knew where they were going.

Still, they had to skirt many obstacles: a spear-lined battlement stretched across their path, manned by only the dead, but they had to climb over the treacherous debris. Beyond, more debris smoldered as the wreckage from the shattered shops and stalls continued to burn. It took them a half an hour to make their way to First Street. Once they were there, however, they found the path clear of rubble, the few dwarves on the streets all scurrying, like them, away from the plaza. The two Guilders skulked down the road, ducking behind the piles of rubble whenever they came upon a detachment of soldiers. Both the rebel and royal troops had abandoned any pretense of making war and had started simply to loot and plunder.

They halted for a moment, warily watching Abercrumb’s shop, which was dark with no sign of the occupant. “I’d like to go in there and feed that weasel a few spells!” Sadie muttered.

“No!” Peat said in panic. “There’s no time! Come on!”

A few minutes later, gasping for breath and trembling in fear, they reached the door of the Two Guilders Emporium. They were relieved to find that the shop had been spared by looters-no doubt because of the fear of curses and magical traps. Sadie touched the locked door and uttered a word of magic, and a second later, the pair of Theiwar tumbled through the door, slamming it behind themselves and still shaking in fright.

“You watch for trouble,” Sadie said when her breathing had settled down slightly. “I’ll go and start casting the spell.”

“Hurry!” Peat said, holding his palms against the door as if he intended to stop an army with a battering ram.

“I’ll work as fast as I can,” Sadie snapped as she disappeared into the back room.

“There’s the king!” Willim the Black crowed in elation, watching as the fire dragon swept toward the monarch atop the palace wall. He flew quickly, soaring fifty feet above the plaza and weaving around the pillars of thick smoke. As an added bonus, Ragat Kingsaver stood behind the monarch, and the wizard allowed himself a thrill of hope: both of his enemies could be struck down at the very same time!

Only then did he turn and look around for Facet, surprised to see that she was some distance behind him. The spell of flying allowed him to hover, so he waited in the air, watching her as she swept closer. He rejoiced at the sight of her black hair whipping in the wind, and at the light of passion and excitement in her eyes when she swept up to her master and swirled through a little pirouette that brought her right to his side.

“Come, pretty one,” Willim said. He pointed at the tower, watching as the fire dragon swept past the rampart and brought a cascade of debris showering into the courtyard. “There is our enemy!”

The black wizard swooped down, ignoring the fire dragon, the dwarves of the two armies fleeing in panic across the great square, and the smoking destruction already wreathing the great city. His spell of true-seeing allowed him to scry through the murk, identifying his target in the tangle of debris.

He found Jungor Stonespringer groping around among the stones at the base of his palace wall. General Ragat, silver shield slung over his shoulder, was trying to get the king to flee to safety, but the monarch seemed intent on searching for something in the rubble. The king pushed himself up to his hands and knees, clawing and digging through the mess of broken rock.

The nature of his quest became apparent as the two wizards swooped in.

“The eye of Reorx!” King Stonespringer screeched. “I must find it!”

Willim settled onto the crest of a large rock, standing firmly and looming over the frantic king, who was still rooting around in the rubble and stones below. Facet alighted beside the wizard, and his heart thrilled to her touch as she wrapped both of her arms around one of his. Her breasts felt soft against him, and the sensation made his blood pulse with vitality and heat.

“Perhaps you seek an eye to replace the one you have lost?” sneered the wizard, addressing the king.

Jungor Stonespringer didn’t even look up or react. Instead, he dropped flat on his belly and clawed at a large stone. “Help me!” he called to Ragat.

The general, however, did look up, ignoring the king’s command. He stared coldly at the wizard, holding his shield before his chest.

“Will you kill him now, Master?” Facet asked breathlessly, licking her crimson lips.

Willim smiled tightly. “I haven’t decided yet, my pet.”

Only then did the one-eyed king take note of his enemy and glance up from the pile of rocks. Still kneeling, he shook a fist at the wizard then gestured wildly with both hands.

“Look what you have wrought!” he cried. “This destruction! You bring ruin to all Thorbardin! And for what?”

“I bring ruin to you and your reign,” the wizard retorted. “It is you yourself who have done so much to destroy this proud nation.”

“Kill me if you dare! Reorx will have his vengeance!” declared the king, stumbling to his feet. In a dramatic gesture, he tore his robe away, baring his chest to his enemy’s attack.

“Death shall be your reward. But it will not come quickly,” the wizard declared.

He raised his finger, pointing at the king’s single good eye. He grinned, a cruel grimace of triumph, and fired a carefully aimed magic missile. The blast of searing magic tore into Jungor Stonespringer’s face, and the king tumbled back to the ground, screaming, hands clasped to the gory wound.

“Now they match!” Facet declared, laughing wildly and squeezing Willim’s arm even more tightly. “A blind king and his fool!”

General Ragat didn’t so much as blink. He stared defiantly and with hatred at Willim.

“How pathetic you look, grubbing around in the stones,” the black wizard said to the king. “And to think you once fancied yourself a ruler of dwarves!”

“You may destroy!” Jungor cried, gasping out the words despite his great pain. “You may bring ruin and death. But your army is doomed. You shall never win this war. I see the truth of your being. I have your spies in my dungeon!”

Willim blinked and scowled. “Enough prattle,” he snapped. His voice dropped menacingly. “It’s a shame, in a way, that you won’t see this next spell coming, for it will be your death,” Willim said calmly. Again he pointed his finger, growling out the deep sound of his most lethal dark magic spell.

But he had paid too little attention to the general, crouching near his king and watching the wizard with narrowed, calculating eyes. Willim chanted the guttural sounds of the lethal spell, feeling the killing magic well within, pulsing through his blood, yearning for release. He spit the last word, a sound of death and triumph, yet just as Willim finished casting the spell, Ragat leaped forward, the Kingsaver Shield in his hand.

The general sprang to the ground before the blinded, hysterical king, holding his shield at the ready. The death spell tore into the shield, rending the metal disk, shattering it and driving Ragat back to the ground. The enchanted barrier split down the middle, the two halves falling away as the searing blast of the spell tore into the general’s breast.