Wil Ogden - The Nightstone

One of dozens of students wearing white robes and running around the frenzied campus stopped Pantros. “You can’t be here,” the student said. “Only sorcerers are allowed on these grounds.”

“I’m on orders from the King,” Pantros said. “I need to find Mirica.”

“You?” the student said snidely while looking at Pantros from toe to head, “You don’t bear the king’s arms. You look like a street urchin who’d just raided a silk merchant’s shop.”

“Actually a very good assessment,” Pantros said. “But I’m still a messenger for the King, and I will be continuing on. A direction would be helpful.”

“I think not,” the student said. He began gesturing with his hands and murmuring.

Pantros couldn’t take the time to deal with the student properly. He drew his sword and slammed the bell into the student’s head then ran to the shadows of the nearest building. No one seemed to be reacting to the slumped student in the courtyard. The other students continued to run about, too focused on their goals to be distracted. *Did you just hit an Abvi with me?*

“Not now, sword,” Pantros said. “But, yes.” He sheathed the blade. The smooth white marble that every building in the Sorcerers College seemed to be made of made climbing difficult, but he managed to get atop one of the smaller towers. He then looked around, trying to see where Mirica would be with the gathered Elders. He could see them in a courtyard moving together towards the tallest tower. He slid down the wall and rolled to his feet then sprinted.

“Mirica!” He called when he was in sight of her.

She stopped. The others with her stopped as well. “What are you doing here?” She asked. “We are just going to discuss whether to fight or not.”

“There’s no time to discuss anything,” Pantros said. “Reginald is riding out now to assault the Vulak by the gate. We think they are going to use the stone immediately.”

“We’re not going to rush our decision,” One of the men with Mirica said. “Using magic to kill is against our code. Breaking that code is not something we do lightly.”

Mirica said, “The code is not an oath, it’s a guideline. Pantros is right; we don’t have time to debate. I’m going to help the Prince. Any others that would help, come with us.”

“You’d risk losing your post at the school?” The man said.

“When the alternative is losing my world to demons,” Mirica said. “There’s really nothing to debate. Of course I would risk my post.”

“I’m taking this to debate, we’ll discuss this deviation from the code later,” the man said then nodded with his head towards the door to the tower. “Come, Elders, lets decide like civilized Abvi.”

Mirica cast a spell and Pantros’ feet lifted off the ground. She said, “I can’t teach you to fly, but I can make you light enough to carry. Let’s go.” She grabbed Pantros’ hand and flew off towards the north gates of the city.

Pantros looked back to see that all but three of the Elders were following Mirica. Ahead, Pantros could see the city gates were open. The Abvi soldiers, however, were not leaving the city. Reginald and his knights were visible over the walls. They had already engaged the Vulak by the monuments surrounding the gate. The Vulak had surged, however and were defending the gate.

“There!” Pantros pointed with his free hand to the Vulak in the red and gold armor. “He has the gem.”

Mirica alit atop the Gatehouse then cast a quick spell returning Pantros’s weight. She then started casting a spell that Pantros recognized as the same one she’d used against Robirt. When the wake flew out across the battlefield, it stopped a few paces before the Vulak. The Vulak in the red robes stood nearby holding out both hands toward Mirica.

“The Vulak in the robes,” Mirica said. “I don’t know what kind of magic he’s using but it’s not of this world and it’s strong.”

“Is he a god?” Pantros asked.

Mirica cast another spell and her eyes glowed with a violet light. “He’s a demon,” She said. “Not a god.”

The well-armored Vulak produced the stone and the robed Vulak gestured then the key floated into the air. The gem glided into a socket above the gate and the gate flashed, leaving a shimmering portal. Immediately, dark creatures emerged from the portal, one after another.

“Demons,” Mirica said. “We’re too late.”

Sheillene ran to the edge of the wall and drew her bow then released it. Her arrow flew out the hundreds of paces to the gate and struck the gem but failed to dislodge it. Two more of her arrows hit the gem. “It’s magically held,” she said. “Our only hope is for Reginald to make it to the gate and recover that gem.”

The demons continued to come through and all anyone could do was watch. Sheillene and the other archers who could shoot that far managed to hit a few of the demons and some of those fell to the ground. They didn’t vanish like the hellhounds had.

Realizing even the Vulak were all watching the gate, Pantros wondered if he could get close enough to take the gem and run before anyone could react. “Mirica, are you sure you can’t make me fly?”

She shook her head. “Flying takes training and I see crossbows among the Vulak. You’d be a floating pincushion before you ever got there.”

“Then can you make me light, but not weightless?” He asked. “About a quarter my weight?”

“Are you going to do something stupid and heroic?” Mirica asked.

“I was thinking I would,” Pantros said. “I can get the gem, likely without being noticed. Being light would just make it easier to climb the gate quickly.”

“I don’t like it but I can’t think of a better plan,” Mirica waved towards Pantros and he could feel his mass decrease.

“I can’t let you,” Sheillene said. “Your sister would kill me.”

“Stop me if you can,” Pantros said and then leapt from the wall toward the battle. He scurried along the ground on all fours to be less noticeable and avoided the area where the knights were still fighting.

When he came to the backs of the Vulak he stood upright. The Vulak were clamoring, bumping into each other, constantly trying to get a better view of the gate. Pantros used the chaos to remove a Vulak’s cloak and wrap himself in it. Getting to the gate then became simply a matter of pushing and shoving and squeezing through gaps. The pushing and shoving were harder than his usual crowd handling because of his decreased weight, but he made it to where the Vulak stood in a circle, giving the demons and the gate room. He took a deep breath then sprinted to the gate. Without allowing himself to be distracted by the Vulak howls of alarm or even the demonic screams. He scurried up the gate’s frame, drew his boot knife and pried the key free. The portal closed, bisecting the demon that’d been coming through.

Pantros then leapt off the gate, diving onto the crowd. He ran along the tops of the densely packed Vulak towards where the Knights were still fighting through the Vulak forces. Only a handful of knights still stood and only two were still on horseback, David and Prince Reginald. Pantros headed towards the prince but as he got close a Vulak cut one of the horse’s legs off with a glaive. The horse fell, trapping the Prince. Pantros drew his sword and dove, but couldn’t reach the prince before the Vulak with the glaive swung again, cutting deep into the Prince’s breastplate.

Landing at the fallen Prince’s side, Pantros sliced open the throat of the Vulak that had killed the prince. He then put himself back to back with the few knights who still stood. “I have the key,” he shouted. “To the city!”

A hand grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him into the air. David set Pantros behind him and spun his horse. He sprinted out of the fray, straight for the city gates.