Wil Ogden - The Nightstone

“The Council had not reached a conclusive vote,” Mirica said. “Several were hoping for a peaceful solution. Now that Robirt seems to have been about to open the portal to hell, I suspect we’ll be a little more decisive.”

“I am appointing you as the Sorcerer’s Council’s Representative to my court,” The King said. “I can’t put you on the council, but I can make sure they know you should be there. I fear we haven’t time to talk more now. Learn what you can and come to the planning room.” He turned away and headed down the stairs into the palace.

Mirica shrugged and said, “Um…”

“Um?” Thomas asked.

“I’m a little giddy, a little confused, and I feel like I want to vomit,” she said. “The king now not only knows who I am but seems impressed by me, that makes me giddy. I don’t know if I should be giddy with an impending invasion from hell, so I’m confused. And I think I just killed a man, which makes my stomach uneasy.”

“You just killed the most powerful Mage in the world,” Pantros said. “Uneasy or not, that was an accomplishment. If he hadn’t turned out to be evil, it might not be, but he was. I think you can feel proud as well.”

“I feel even more confused, and more queasy, and I know I’m about to fly back to the Sorcerer’s College and that doesn’t help the queasy.” She took a deep breath then said, “See you in a few.” She then leapt into the air and glided off towards the center of the city.

“You’re staring,” Thomas said.

Pantros blinked and looked away from where Mirica had disappeared among the city’s spires. Thomas nodded towards the stairwell. “We should go meet the King.”

“Right,” Pantros said.

“Mirica will be there, eventually.” Thomas said.

“What?” Pantros asked.

“You barely take your eyes off her when she’s around,” Thomas said. “You do realize she’s six times your age.”

“I’m not interested in her like that,” Pantros said. “That would be foolish, her being an Abvi and all. “She is very pretty, though.”

“She’s a Sorcerer, it might all be an illusion,” Thomas said.

“Is it?” Pantros asked.

“No,” Thomas said. “Now, let’s get to the planning chamber.”

Pantros hopped down the stairs ahead of Thomas. Abvi, for all their grace, were terribly patient, which meant they were slow walkers. It was torturous to be behind one on a narrow stairwell.

Prince Reginald stood at the map table and scrolled through views of the surrounding army. Pantros had tried to use the table, but being King of Thieves wasn’t quite as qualifying as being King of Melnith or de-facto King of Relarch. The prince had been particularly edgy since the rapidly gathering Vulak had impeded his plans to return to his kingdom.

“The Vulak will sooner or later decide to use that stone.” General Shera said.

“Are they smart enough to, or stupid enough to?” Prince Reginald asked.

Pantros said, “I don’t know much about Vulak but I know they don’t act in large armies like what we have out there. Something is controlling or coercing them to act together and the purpose seems to be that key. Whoever that is will, most likely, convince them to use the key.”

“You don’t think it was Robirt in control all along?” King Allaind asked.

“If it were him, the Vulak would be heading away now,” Sheillene said. “But someone is still commanding that entire force. There are red-cheeks and split-ears camped side by side and they are not even skirmishing. Something is commanding them. I suspect something infernal.”

“Have you seen anyone that looks like a leader?” King Allaind asked.

“That’s what I’m looking for,” Prince Reginald said.

“We haven’t spotted anyone from the walls,” Sheillene said. “There are too many Vulak out there to put scouts in the forest.”

“We know where they will take the key,” Pantros said, “We just have to take it from them when they do. Their army is thin on this side of the monuments. Archers and a fast assault could get in and take the gem.”

“We’d have to know when they are taking the gem to the portal,” Bryan said. “And that’s still a tenth of a league from the city gates to run across, and potentially fight off thousands of Vulak. They can run just as fast as we can. There’s the potential to have to fight there and then turn around and fight our way back again.”

“I found him,” Prince Reginald said. “Here, about a league north, but we can’t get to him.” The map showed a crowded encampment hundreds of Vulak knelt prostrate around a stone carving of a Vulak with outspread bat-like wings. A Vulak in a red robe stood by the statue, clearly preaching, though the map conveyed no sound. A Vulak wearing red and gold armor walked into the clearing then knelt and held out his hands offering the key to the red-robed Vulak.

“It seems the Vulak have a new god,” King Allaind said.

The scene on the table showed the Vulak, rather than take the stone, gesture for the key-bearer, clearly a leader among the Vulak, to keep it. The two then walked, and Reginald had the map follow them. “They’re heading to the portal. We’re going to have to act now.”

“I’ll gather as many soldiers as I can by the north gate,” the King said. “If they walk fast, they will take a quarter hour to reach the portal.”

“My knights can be there with time to spare,” Prince Reginald said. “I know a route through the alleys so we can avoid the crowded main streets, but I must head out now. Whatever plans you make, assume we will be riding straight to the gate. Archers and sorcerers aiding us from the gatehouse would earn our gratitude.”

“Us?” Allaind asked. “You will lead your knights personally? You are a king; you cannot risk your life so. Your people should not have to suffer two dead kings in so short a time.”

“I’m not planning on getting killed,” Reginald said. “If things don’t go as planned, I’m not actually the king yet and my brother, Estephan will be. He’s as good a man as I am, and would be as good a king as I will be. Now, we haven’t the time to debate this.” Reginald left the room.

“I’ll gather the archers,” Sheillene said. “We’ll be at the gatehouse before the knights leave. We can run along the wall faster than the knights can traverse the alleys of the city on horseback.”

“I’ll inform the Wizards,” Kehet said.

“No,” General Shera said. “I already have; they are in the palace. I should warn you that your friend is not among them. She is still in meditation. She had a bit of an accident the other day and though no one was hurt, the old school is now a small lake in the middle of the foreign quarter. The school has been forced to relocate her to the Sorcery College. They have a ‘cloud room’ high above the city. There’s nothing to hurt up there and the room was designed to be a training ground for damaging spells.”

“Mirica hasn’t returned with word from the sorcerers,” Thomas said. “I should run there.”

“I can get there faster than you,” Pantros said. “I’m used to moving quickly through crowds. I know the stories of me would never say, but I don’t always get away with my pilfering without being noticed. There are times I’ve had to make some rapid escapes.” Pantros turned to the King, “I assume, Your Majesty, that I am no longer required to stay in the palace.”

“Just run,” The King said. “As my zealous colleague pointed out, time is short.”

The rooftops of Melnith were not as uniform as those of Ignea or even those of Fork, but they were still faster to traverse than the streets. It didn’t take long for Pantros to reach the Sorcerer’s college.