Robert Newcomb - A March into Darkness

“Go!” he called out to his remaining envelopers.

At once the protective cone dismantled, and its freed envelopers started soaring toward the beleaguered city. Turning to look down the hill’s backside, Einar smiled at his eagerly waiting swamp shrews.

“Attack!” he shouted joyously. “But remember-the lepers are not to be touched!”

Not to be outdone, the snarling shrew herds rumbled down the hill. Thundering across the damaged drawbridge, they greedily tore into whatever warriors remained standing.

Cautiously biding his time, Einar smiled as he listened to the screams. After another hour or so, the city quieted. Smoke drifted ominously over the city walls. Then a few dozen envelopers obediently soared back to their master. Rippling their sides, they landed gently on the dewy grass.

Wasting no time, Einar quickly reconjured the glowing nets. The Valrenkians and consuls loaded their cargoes and took their places. Einar and Reznik joined them. Soon they were all flying toward the smoking city. Using hand signals, Einar ordered the envelopers to soar over the barbican. Reznik was no stranger to the suffering of others. But the scene below him made his skin crawl.

Minion bones, armor, boots, and weapons lay everywhere. Many building entrances and windows were smashed in because of the envelopers’ relentless pursuits. Drying blood lay pooled in the streets, alleys, and gutters. Fires raged, and thick smoke blackened the sky.

In many places, warriors’ internal organs and limbs lay strewn about, starkly exemplifying the shrews’ brutal hunger. Unable to believe that their protectors had been vanquished, traumatized lepers wandered about aimlessly. Leper parents separated from their children called out frantically, trying to find their missing offspring.

Hearing a sharp scream, Einar turned to see a ravenous shrew shaking a Minion back and forth like a rag doll. With a sharp cracking sound, the shrew’s jaws savagely closed, breaking its victim’s back. It dropped the dead warrior to the dirt, ripped open the warrior’s body, and started devouring the Minion’s organs.

Looking skyward, Einar called the craft to augment his sight. Even so, he could barely see his envelopers. On the ground, ravenous shrew herds thundered through the streets. Both species were scouring the city for stragglers. Einar knew that whenever one was found, the warrior would be dealt with quickly. Signaling again with his hands, Einar ordered his envelopers down.

Landing in the inner ward, Einar jumped from his net, then looked around. He couldn’t have been more pleased. He turned to look at his Valrenkians and consuls.

“Call on the craft to get those fires under control!” he ordered. “We still need the buildings to temporarily house the lepers. Once you are sure that no warriors remain alive, start taking a detailed census. Before I leave here, I must have an exact count! And repair that drawbridge! Soon all of Parthalon will know we’ve arrived!”

As the screaming quieted, Einar’s servants quickly went about their duties.

Just then Einar and Reznik heard a woman crying. Soft and low, the sound came from somewhere nearby. Curious, they walked across the street to an abandoned storefront.

Shoving aside the smashed door, they walked in. A leper woman sat huddled in one corner. A young girl was there with her. Their yellow robes had been charred and torn during the frenzy.

Beckoning Reznik to follow him, Einar walked closer. As the two mystics neared, the mother and child cowered farther into a dirty corner.

“Do not be frightened, my child,” Einar said. “Please stand. Let me look at you.”

The woman stood on trembling legs. Her terrified eyes looked into his.

Einar guessed her to be about twenty-five Seasons of New Life. But given her advanced condition, he knew he could easily be wrong. She was little more than skin, bones, and raging sores. Her daughter seemed equally ill. Placing his hands into opposite robe sleeves, he looked over at Reznik.

“How long, do you guess?” he asked. “Your talents in these matters supersede mine.”

Reznik looked deeply into the mother’s eyes, then examined the poor quality of her hair and nails. He thought to himself for several moments.

“She has two moons, at best,” he answered. “The child will last a bit longer.”

Reaching out, Einar touched the woman’s ravaged face. He smiled. “Do not despair, my child,” he said. “Although you will soon perish, your deaths will serve a greater good. You see, your kind is exactly what we need.”

Leaving the mother and child behind, the two mystics walked outside. The fires were coming under control, and the shrews and envelopers were returning to the square. Knowing that the Ghetto could never accommodate all his servants, Einar ordered them to leave and guard the perimeter. The envelopers obediently soared over the walls, and the bloodied shrews lumbered back across the partly destroyed drawbridge.

Einar had meant what he said-soon all of Parthalon would know of the attack on the Ghetto. Those warriors still alive on this side of the Sea of Whispers would be sure to respond. They too would have to be dealt with, long before the Conclave heard about what was happening.

The first part of the plan had succeeded brilliantly. But to ensure success, the next phase would have to go equally well. As soon as he had his leper count, Einar would take the next step.

Smiling at Reznik, he beckoned him over to where the frightened lepers were being gathered. As morning drifted into midday, the two mystics started helping with the census.

SMILING, SERENA OPENED HER EYES AND RAISED HER HEAD. She stood and looked down at her daughter’s endowed corpse.

After touching Clarice’s face once more, she turned and left the crypt.

AS HE HEADED TOWARD FAEGAN’S LABORATORY, THEFirst Wizard was highly preoccupied. Mallory’s revelations about the debtors’ prison had infuriated him. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. As he stomped down the Redoubt halls his robe went flying, and the others had to hurry to keep up. Only the Afterlife knew how many other Eutracians the corrupt jailor had abused. Wigg was eager to set things right.

Shailiha, Abbey, Adrian, Mallory, and Jessamay followed him. As they went, they briefly pointed out various Redoubt areas to the young Fledgling. Still stunned by her surroundings, Mallory looked at everything with wide eyes.

Wigg finally stopped before a large oaken door. Whooping laughter came from the other side. Scowling, he shook his head, then turned to look at the women.

“There’s no telling what he’s up to in there,” he said. “Prepare yourselves.”

Opening the heavy door, Wigg ushered the women into the room.

Faegan sat in the new wheeled chair the Minions had made for him. Cackling joyously, he sailed about the laboratory. He seemed so pleased with himself that he hardly noticed his visitors. Laughing gleefully, he finally stopped to hover before the First Wizard.

The group regarded Faegan narrowly. For her part, Mallory had never seen anyone remotely like him. A delighted look overcame her face. Scowling, Wigg crossed his arms over his chest.

“Is this some gift your newfound Forestallment has granted you?” he asked. “Soaring around rooms faster than ever?”

Normally the crippled wizard would have shot back a sly retort. But this time he just laughed again, then gleefully started spinning his chair in circles.

“No, you old fool!” he shouted as he went round and round. “My miraculous Forestallment is far more than that! From this day forward, our world is forever changed!”

“What are you babbling about?” Jessamay demanded. “Stop that spinning and explain yourself this instant!”