Jess Lebow - Obsidian Ridge

The farmer started to twitch, clearly nervous. "You better tell me who you are before I run you through." He shook his pitchfork.

"You killed her," Xeries said, pointing an accusing finger at the man. "You took her away from me. You ruined everything."

Shoving his arms out at the farmer, a torrent of magic spilled from his hands. The air rippled and distorted as a shock wave blew the man backward, sending him smashing through the wooden wall of the barn.

All of his sadness and frustration came bubbling to the surface. "You killed her," repeated Xeries, walking toward the man he'd just sent sailing away. "And now, I'm going to kill you."

"Have you heard me?"

Xeries watched the last of his memory play inside his head before answering. "No. I was… somewhere else."

"We're here so that you can replace me. You've brought me here because I'm no longer useful to you, and you're going to cast me away, just as you have all the others. Isn't that right?"

Xeries returned to the dais and climbed the steps. Setting his goblet down, he stood in front of his most recent wife.

"I am not casting you away. We are here because this is where I was a young boy. This is where my bloodline started." He took hold of the veil and began lifting it over her head.

She tried to take it from his grasp, but her hands were shaky and slow.

"Please don't. Don't look at me."

The veil came over her head, pilling up on the stone back of her throne. Underneath, her face was terribly wrinkled. Her cheeks were deep craters, her eyes nearly falling from her head, and her veins bulged as if they wanted to burst through the skin. She looked drained, like a shriveled fruit, sucked dry from the inside out. This was not the effect of a long life, running its course on the human body. This was something else.

"Do you see what you have done to me?" she said, looking up at him with bloodshot, dried up eyes.

"But your sacrifice has given me eternal life," he said. "Does that not please you?"

"Does it matter? You have drained me, and I am no longer of any use. Now you will find another, and you will drain her too, all the while professing your love."

Xeries nodded. "That is my burden, yes."

"It is not a burden if you make someone else carry it," she said, gathering her veil and dropping it again over her withered face.

Xeries sat back down in his throne, and resumed his waiting. His wife's life force would not last much longer, and he would need a new bride to drain, very soon. His patience was indeed running thin.

King Korox paced the battlements on the outer wall of the palace. A fortress, it wasn't. Llorbauth had been selected as the capital for two reasons. First, it was centrally located to the rest of the baronies, so travel to the capital and communication with the king would be easier. And second, because Korox's father, King Valon didn't want his seat of power to be dominated by the threat of invasion. Choosing a palace on the edge of the kingdom meant they would constantly be on alert-ready to repel attackers at any moment. Deciding on a location in the center of the kingdom meant that it could be safe without so many defenses.

He wanted the citizens to feel as if their king lived among them, not holed up in a stone and metal castle, unapproachable and unseen. He believed in the strength of his army and of the speed of his scouts. He believed that the business of the kingdom should be conducted in a place of safety. And the architecture of the palace reflected that.

Korox might have thought his father short-sighted, except that he himself never would have imagined his kingdom invaded by a floating magical citadel. So he walked the few defenses that they had, looking for ways to improve them and working out a strategy for fighting the growing horde of gibbering black monsters massing under the Obsidian Ridge.

He spoke with each of the unit commanders and gave encouragement to the soldiers manning the wall. From up here, he could see down on the entrance to the palace. The drawbridge was being lowered, and the contingent he'd sent to the docks was returning.

Korox was eager to hear if they had any news. He'd sent them to deliver a message to the Matron, which in and of itself was not an easy task. They had been given five sealed envelopes, each an exact replica of the others. Inside was a simple letter from the king, addressed to the Matron, accepting the terms of her offer. He would turn over the Claw as soon as his Magistrates were able to locate and apprehend him. In return, the Matron would begin collecting her mages to help with a convocation. The exchange of the Claw for Princess Mariko would happen as soon as possible.

The five letters were delivered to the five most notorious criminal lords in Erlkazar, each being asked to pass it along to the Matron. Korox hoped that at least one of those letters would make it to its destination. There was little else he could do, other than post handbills all over the docks.

Working his way down into the great hall, the king greeted the contingent. He was relieved to see that all five messengers had returned.

"How did you fare?"

Five very young men, all sporting the official twin wyvern crest of the king, bowed before him, nervous from the attention they were receiving.

The oldest among them, no more than eighteen years, stepped forward, cleared his throat, and spoke.

"The letters have been delivered, my lord."

"Any trouble? Any response?"

The young man looked to the ground. "No trouble."

The king put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Son, this is no time to shy away from the details. You have done your job, and you have done it well." He lifted the messenger's chin, looking him in the eye. "Now you must tell me everything.

Even if you think I do not want to hear it." The young messenger nodded.

"My lord, at least two of the letters were torn to shreds upon delivery," he said. "Two others were opened and read aloud. The men reading them laughed and threatened us. But we were not harmed."

"And the last?"

"It was received, and we were asked to leave. No trouble, but we do not know the fate of it."

The king smiled. "You did well. All of you. There is a commission to the Magistrates for any of you who so wish it."

The boys looked to each other, clearly excited.

"But I have one last task for you before you take on your new duties," said the king. "Gather up all the royal messengers in the palace. Send them out in all directions. Spread the word. We need every spellcaster in Erlkazar to come to our aid. I'm calling a convocation. If Xeries wants a fight, we will give it to him."

"Yes, my lord," said the oldest. "Thank you, my lord."

The drawbridge had not even finished being raised when it began coming down again. The king looked up from his messengers to see Lady Herrin and her entourage riding into the palace. She had with her what appeared to be a lynch mob of wealthy merchants, all wearing gaudy clothing, all frowning and pinched, like they were holding their entire fortunes in their buttocks by simply squeezing them together.

"This is an outrage!" shouted Lady Herrin before she was even inside the palace.

The king looked to the Magistrate captain who was on duty at the portcullis, then he pointed to the cadre of merchants.

Lady Herrin and her horde were surrounded by soldiers and forced to stop, just outside of the great hall.

Being stopped by armed guards didn't seem to bother her, and she continued to shout at the king.

"Get your men out of our marketplace!" she demanded. "The Magistrates are making people nervous, and our businesses are suffering."

"The Magistrates are there for your protection!" replied King Korox, shouting at her as she shouted at him, not bothering to close the distance. "If you haven't noticed, the kingdom is under attack."