Wil Ogden - The Nightstone

“I’ll need to make a stop at the Hunter’s Lodge,” Sheillene said. “I have to pass on word that Wizards are no longer automatic bounties and, in fact, not bounties at all. It will be a rather big change to us. Our guild was founded in the days of the purge. Our first purpose was to hunt the Wizards. I’m a bit surprised there could be any alive with every hunter always looking for them.”

“Magic tends to breed true,” Shera said, “the element sometimes changes, but anyone with a magically talented parent has a more than fair chance to wield magic themselves. My mother was a Mage. I too have magic, but until today, that was not something I could tell anyone. I’ll accompany Kehet to the Wizard’s School. He may be a god, but they’ll be more likely to trust me.”

“There’s a school?” Sheillene asked. “In Melnith? Where?”

“I think we’ll keep some secrets for today,” Shera said.

The bright azure of the sky with a few fluffy white clouds seemed out of place above the amassed armies of Vulak standing outside the Melnith walls. Pantros stood atop a palace tower with Thomas and the bard’s sister, Mirica and watched the Vulak moving around only a hundred paces from the walls.

Standing next to her brother, there was little family resemblance. Thomas could almost pass for a human, but Mirica was the epitome of the elegant Abvi. Her Strawberry blonde hair was pulled tight to her head, making her jutting, pointed ears far more pronounced. From where it was tied high on the back of her head, her hair fell in perfect ringlets to the middle of her back. Her solid white gown gleamed in the sunlight and showed barely a wrinkle. Where the gown slid across the ground, there wasn’t a hint of dirt or wear on the fabric.

“Even I could hit them with a bow from here,” Thomas said, waving his hand at the Vulak. He glanced towards the archers standing every few paces along the wall. “Why hasn’t the battle begun?”

“The King wants to wait until the Vulak start to charge the walls or until we get the Key safely in the hands of the Archmage,” Pantros said. “Sheillene tells me there are not enough arrows in the city to kill all of the Vulak out there. And we don’t want to start anything until there are a few trebuchet’s done, but even with the crews working day and night, we will only have a dozen two days from now.”

“The Vulak aren’t even building siege engines, just ladders and battering rams,” Thomas said.

“I’d always thought Vulak were beastly,” Mirica said. “They’re loud and they smell bad, but they seem just like any other army, if a little less organized. What surprises me is that they are not touching the monuments outside the city gates. They have them surrounded but they don’t touch them.”

“Abvi heroes,” Thomas said. “Most of them earned their status in wars with the Vulak. Vulak respect warriors who defeat them in straightforward combat. They are not a vengeful race, unless they think they were slighted or cheated.”

“And that archway in the middle of the statues?” Pantros asked. “What does that commemorate?”

Mirica said, “That’s the gate to which you hold the key.”

“I’d think it would be inside the city walls,” Pantros said. He then added an explanation, “To protect it.”

“It’s outside the walls so it cannot be used to invade the city,” Mirica said.

“That makes more sense,” Pantros said.

“Abvi are often stubborn in their ways, but we are not stupid,” Mirica said.

Behind her, Pantros noticed the king approaching along with a tall man in a grey robe with blue trim around the hood and sleeves. Pantros bowed. Mirica and Thomas mimicked his bow.

“Your Majesty,” Pantros said. “This is the Archmage?” he then asked.

“I am Robirt, The Archmage of Vehlos,” The man said. “You may address me as ‘Your Grace’.”

“Your Grace,” Pantros said. “It is good to meet you.”

Robirt held out his hand, palm up. “I think I speak for His Majesty as well as everyone in the city when I say, let’s see that stone, I’d like to get it away from the city as quickly as possible.”

“Yes,” King Allaind said. “Robirt can take care of the stone. He is the caretaker of all the keys.”

“Well, the eleven that remain,” Robirt said. “I am missing stones for Relarch and Rahvenna. And there are certainly ancient gateways that I do not know about. Much research has been lost.”

“I’m just glad to be rid of this,” Pantros pulled the gem out and set it in the Archmage’s hand. “How will you keep it safe from the Vulak, Your Grace?”

The Archmage looked Pantros in the eye, almost challenging his station to ask such a question. His face then relaxed and he said. “I will place it in a vault that is enchanted to prevent detection.” Still grasping the gem in one hand, he threw his other hand up as if he were reaching for the sun. When his arm reached full extension, he vanished.

“He was lying,” Thomas said.

“What?” The King asked.

“Something in the way he paused set off my intuition,” Thomas said. “I don’t know what he plans to do, but it doesn’t involve a non-detectable vault.”

“Are you sure he was lying?” The King asked. “He’s never been particularly polite, but I’ve never had reason not to trust him.”

“I know he was lying,” Thomas said. “I’m not sure, but I know, if that makes sense.”

“Not really,” Mirica said.

The King stepped over to the battlements and looked out over the walls. “Hopefully, now we can stop preparing for battle.”

“Marc will be disappointed,” Thomas said, pointing down to the palace gardens. Bryan and Marc were sparring.

“Disappointed?” Mirica asked. “No one is disappointed to avoid a battle. That man he’s fighting might be an exception. At least with a Vulak he’d probably win. He hasn’t landed a hit on Marc since lunch.”

The king agreed, “I watched them for a while, Marc never lets the same trick work on him twice. Bryan knew a lot of sneaky tricks. I had my champion out there with them this morning, but he quit after an hour saying there was nothing he could teach Marc and Bryan was besting my champion three out of four bouts.”

Pantros saw a familiar grey robe walking among the Vulak near the Statues. “I wouldn’t send the archers home just yet,” he said. “It seems the Archmage has business among the Vulak.

The king looked out and let out a staggered sigh. “Mirica, I know you’re not as powerful as Robirt, but is there anything you can do from here?”

Mirica raised an eyebrow. “Comparing Mages and Sorcerers is like comparing water to milk,” she said. “Still if we were both milk, I would be the cream and he would be the comparative chaff.” She spread her hands wide and brought them together in a loud clap. A shockwave bent the air before her and shot out across the walls, across the open field and hit Robirt, throwing him several yards through the air. He landed on the ground in a crumpled heap and didn’t move.

“If he’s alive, he’s going to be in a lot of pain,” Pantros said.

“I can’t do that all day,” Mirica said. “It’s very draining I will need a short while to regain my strength.”

“And you’re not in charge of the Sorcery School?” the King asked.

“Power is not the same as experience,” Mirica said. “I’m a senior instructor, but I am not even on the council and won’t be until I’ve been part of the school for a century or more.”

“The Nightstone Key is still out there,” The King said. “We need a plan to get it back. Gather the Generals,” he added. After looking at the people he’d been talking to, he then said, “I’ll get the Generals, you should all meet me in the planning room. I assume your presence means the Sorcerers have decided to help us?”