by Jon Bender
Circling the sand-colored building with its large, high windows that kept the structure cool, were metal bowls set into the ground and filled with burning oil that lit up the area. Behind them, in the flickering light, strode Desert Walkers in loose, tan clothing. Each carried two short, curving blades sheathed at the hips. These nomadic warriors were from the south, where the hard land bordered the Great Desert. Taught from boyhood to survive in a place where few others could, they were fiercest fighters she had ever met. Their swords given to them when they reached maturity and only surrendered at death.
Approaching the deep, white marble steps, she dismounted as one of the tanned guards near the door came to take her horse. Handing him the parchment, he read it and nodded to the others, allowing her entry. The space inside was a stark contrast to the rest of the city. The floor was a glossy white marble, and decorative paintings and tapestries hung from pristine white walls. Two large marble statues stood on either side of the door, carved in the images of the first queen and her husband, a great desert warrior who had helped her establish Ostega. They stared down at Vaniece as though judging her worthiness to enter their home. The two figures always made her feel uncomfortable. Even as a girl, when she had been presented to the previous queen as the newest mage apprentice, the statues seemed vaguely disapproving.
Several more Walkers stood around the large room. Some nodded in recognition.
“I am here to see the prince at the request of the queen,” she said, approaching the nearest of them.
“He is in his chambers,” the man said quietly. The Desert Walkers were known for their reserved manner. Their skill in battle relieved them of the need to boast or talk more than necessary. “He is not alone, Magus.”
Vaniece rolled her eyes. The prince’s propensity for girls moonstruck with his position and charm was well known. He had tried repeatedly to get her into his bed. Vaniece was sure that he only wished to bed her, so he could say he had won the terrifying mage who held sway over death.
Her heeled boots clicked on the marble, the echoing sound announcing her approach. The four men outside the Prince’s door looked in her direction but made no move to intercept. She handed one the queen’s letter and waited as he read it. Without a word, he knocked loudly on the door before opening it. A table inside held an empty bottle and two glasses with traces of wine. The large sitting room was decorated in a light blue that reminded her of Blackstone Lake in the north. She had gone there as an apprentice while traveling Ostega to learn of its people and their neighbors to the north. She recalled swimming in its cool water during midsummer. The lake was so large and deep she could not see land on the other side or touch the bottom with her feet. She remembered the delicious fear she felt, imagining the giant monsters swimming below her in the deep. She smiled at the memory.
The prince emerged from the bedchamber wrapped in a thin robe. “At last, I have you in my chambers!” he exclaimed, grinning.
Vaniece ground her teeth in irritation. She had to admit that the man was handsome. Two or three years her junior, he had light brown hair, cut short on the top and closely shaven on the side in the Walker fashion, and almost startling light green eyes. His strong jaw and cleft chin pulled attention to his smile, and the hard lines of his body beneath the robe drew her eyes against her will. She knew his prowess with a sword, and his quick mind made him formidable on the battlefield.
“The queen asked me to come,” she said, annoyed at his presumption.
“My sister and I have never been the best of friends,” he smirked, “so this is a surprise.”
Not in the mood play games after her long journey, she presented the Queen’s letter. He took the letter, purposefully brushing his finger along her hand with a smile that likely had disarmed many women. Bringing the parchment closer to his face to read in the dim candlelight, he scanned it quickly before setting it down on a nearby stand.
“So my sister thinks I need protection. I have a dozen mages here. Why would I need you?” he asked.
“I have encountered these assassins.”
“Who are they?” he demanded, any trace of flirtation now gone.
“Servants of the god Or’Keer. I met them on the grasslands and barely survived the encounter.”
Sagrad nodded. “And they are allied with Rilnorm?”
“We do not know what their relationship entails.”
He stood in silence for a moment before meeting her eyes. “I am grateful for my sister’s concern, but I hardly think I require additional protection.”
Vaniece squared her shoulders, unwilling to be swayed. “The queen commanded me to protect you, and that is what I plan to do.”
“My sister has always enjoyed making my life troublesome,” he said, with a resigned sigh. “Very well. There are many empty rooms. Unless, of course, you wish to sleep here? It would help you keep an eye on me.” His expression grew lecherous once more, his voice laden with not-so-hidden meaning.
“A room nearby will be acceptable,” she said in a bored tone.
He shrugged. “As you wish.”
“I would like to know what your current plan is to repel Rilnorm.”
“How does that matter to your task? You are here to protect me, not lead our forces in battle,” he said, moving to the small table with the empty bottle. He picked it up and frowned before looking back at her.
“It would be helpful to know what I can expect. Will you be leading your army to meet the invaders, or do you intend to sit here drinking wine until they arrive?”
He considered her for a moment. “Tell me what you saw on your way here. You must have passed through the lands controlled by Rilnorm.”
“The enemy is marching this way, burning the empty villages they pass while you send small raiding units to harass them.”
“Empty villages?” he asked, feigning surprise. “Why would they be empty?”
“They were evacuated, of course,” she said, humoring him.
“Yes. Thousands of people carrying everything of value were brought here.” He moved closer to a window looking out over the city. “The land around us is barren with little water or food to sustain a large number. Why would I spend lives holding onto it? Kilreth is the only large oasis for a hundred miles.”
“You expect them to siege the city. You think the land will break them before they get in.”
“If I lead our people out to face them, we would be on even terms. This way, we have a defensive position and an unlimited supply of water.”
“What of the queen?” she demanded.
“What of her? The scouts say the forces of Rilnorm are content to hold where they are in the north until they have taken Kilreth. She is in no more danger than the rest of us. If that changes, I will reconsider my strategy.” He turned away from the window to look at her again. “Does my plan meet with your approval?”
“It is not for me to approve or disapprove,” she said, slightly abashed. “I simply need to know under what circumstances I am to guard you.”
“Of course,” he said grinning. Returning to his chamber door, he opened it, revealing an empty bed. “If there is nothing else, I would like to get back to sleep. Unless you want to join me?”
“I think not.”
He chuckled. “Good night, Vaniece,” he said, then closed the door behind him.
She shook her head and left to find a room close by. The queen had charged her with keeping him safe, and she intended to do her duty.
Another fireball slipped passed the defenses, slamming into the wall and breaking away more of the tan stone in an explosion of flying rock and flame. She could feel the vibration as it rippled down the battlements and up her legs. Before them, a large whirlwind formed, speeding towards the wall and carving a furrow in the ground as it passed. Another of the spinning masses, similar in size to the first, appeared to meet it. The magical cast created by one of the mages on the wall formed, spinning in the opposite direction of the first. The two met each other in a storm
of sand and dirt, the magical combat easily visible in the bright moonlight beneath a cloudless, starlit sky. Crashing against each other, the magical creations battled, struggling to push past each other. At that moment, half a dozen ballistae flew from the top of the wall out into the darkness. Vaniece lost sight of the massive, arrow-like spears, but the enemy mage’s whirlwind broke apart as the second ripped through it to continue into the enemy line. Several more fireballs flew through the air, their harsh light illuminating the largest golem she had ever seen. It lumbered forward, the top of its head reaching halfway up to the center of the wall. Massive arms swinging at its sides created a grinding sound that made Vaniece cringe. Giant spears of ice and boulders collided with its bulbous body to no effect as the stone steadily healed itself, filling holes as soon as they were made. One of the golem’s enormous arms slammed into the base, quickly followed by the other. Just above, shouting erupted among men and mages before a large chunk from the top of the wall, including part of rampart, broke away and fell, crushing the stone creation. The impact sent a cloud of dust high into the air, obscuring her view.
“I did not expect them to continue for this long,” Sagrad said. His breast plate was adorned with golden filigree worked into an image of a setting sun. “After six days, they should have used up all their water.”
“They only attack at night,” Vaniece replied, watching the magical combat. The dance of magical cast and counter was almost beautiful. Fireballs exploded, and bolts of lightning arced out. Shattered ice sparkled in their light as it fell. “That lets them conserve their water.”
“I hope the time they spend here lets my sister press them,” he said, more to himself than her.
“I am sure the queen is doing everything she can,” she replied.
Sagrad opened his mouth to speak but no words came forth. She followed his gaze to a dozen fireballs streaking through the night. The mages on the wall sent out magic of their own to intercept, but they could not stop them all. Three of the fireballs impacted in rapid succession. The explosions sent cracks along the stone wall. The cracks widened and the wall buckled under its own weight. Vaniece stared in anticipation of its collapse. Seconds passed slowly. Even the men outside, just beyond the reach of arrows, stood still, watching and waiting. The air went so quiet that the loud popping of stone echoed over the flat land.
“Hold, damn you… hold.” She heard the prince mutter under his breath. His hands gripped the lip of the battlement as if to keep it in place.
The sound of the wall shifting slowly died away, and the wall remained intact. Vaniece leaned out to get a better view. A V-shaped crack had formed along the battered wall. It would not take much more to knock it down. Five men emerged from the front of the enemy line. Sagrad called for archers too ready themselves. The bowmen pulled back on their large recurve bows, and at the prince’s word, released. The arrows flew true, only to be stopped by walls of dark shadow. The five grew closer now, letting her make them out more clearly. The four men to either side wore the inky robes of dark priests. The man at the center was different, dressed in a dark green jacket and carrying a two-handed sword. Vaniece could barely make out one dark hand, as if he wore one black glove to grip the hilt. After the robed men blocked another flight of arrows, the prince called for the mages. Two fireballs flamed to life. Their power increased as storm mages added a vortex of air around them, increasing the flames. The four flanking priests stopped, allowing the green-coated man to continue forward a few steps alone. He brought the sword up in front of him, the flat of his blade reflecting the light of the flames. The first fireball came crashing down, and Vaniece gasped in shock as the magic disappeared into the blade. Another fireball followed the first, and for the second time that night, the air went quiet. The man lowered the sword to his side and held out a hand from which a beam of pure darkness sped toward the crack. The section of wall shifted again, weakening further. More ballistae were launched at the five from the large crossbow-like engines. Two were stopped, if just barely. The third ripped through the magical barrier, spearing a priest through the chest and pinning him at an angle to the ground.
Sagrad began yelling orders to the soldiers on the ground, commanding them to prepare to repel a breach. The man in the green coat pointed his sword at the damaged section, and a fireball twice the size of the ones it had absorbed formed at the blade’s tip. The seized magic, now turned against its creators, hurtled forward like a small sun. The impact knocked Vaniece and those around her to the ground. From where she lay, she heard a crashing sound as the stone slid away, opening a hole. Struggling to her feet, she heard a deafening yell as the enemy force charged towards the gap. Looking for the prince, she found him already halfway down the stone stairs, rushing to join the men on the ground. She cursed his brazenness, but admired his courage. Following him down, she took a place next to him in front of a group of Desert Walkers. The Walkers stood patiently at the front of the breach, their calm demeanor a stark contrast to the nervousness of the soldiers around them. In that moment, she wished more of the nomadic warriors were with them. The prince gave her a nod and drew his sword.
The first wave of enemy soldiers scrambled over the top of the rubble, many taking arrows as archers on either side of the broken wall fired down from above. Next to them, more of the bowman continued shooting into the charging mass as mages swapped magical casts. Vaniece grinned to herself, thinking that the mages might as well not even be there. They would do well to stand aside and see which side emerged victorious. As the Rilnorman soldiers reached the bottom, she raised her hand, forming the black sphere, and released it. She followed it with a second, then a third. She poured forth a steady stream of magic that slowed or even killed the invaders, destroying their flesh. Sagrad drew his sword and stepped forward a little, positioning himself in front of her. The protective gesture, even at such a desperate moment, annoyed Vaniece. She was here to protect him, not the other way around. An attacker hacked at the prince’s neck, and the prince parried, countering with a short stroke that sent chainmail links flying and ripped a tear in the man’s chest. The Rilnorman soldier collapsed to the ground and was quickly replaced.
Around her, the Desert Walkers pressed forward, a short, curving blade in each hand. Their fluid motion reminded her of dancers as they dipped and glided through attacks and blocks. Each one seemed to float across the ground as their swords coiled around enemy weapons. The invaders were sorely outmatched. As the two forces became entangled, it was too risky to continue casting offensively. Instead, Vaniece reached out to several of the dead and commanded them to rise. Of the six she took control of, she commanded three to protect the prince. Sagrad spared her one quick look of annoyance before running his sword through the belly of an opponent. Vaniece smiled.
The close fighting continued for what seemed like hours. The dead and dying lay strewn across the ground, many crying out for help. Vaniece forced herself to ignore their pleas. Helping them now would only put herself and others at further risk. The Rilnorman flood was held at the bottom of the hill of rubble and was soon reversed as the defenders pressed into the breach. Just when she thought they had repelled the attack, the man with the enchanted sword crested the top of the hill. The three priests followed, surrounded by curving black walls they had conjured to shield themselves from the archers. The man in green was young, with shaggy brown hair and a scar on his left cheek. At this closer distance, she could see that the pommel of his sword was shaped into the likeness of a skull, but the hand that held it was what gripped her attention. What she had taken for a glove was actually a magical construct of swirling darkness. His dark brown eyes met hers, and she saw in them a look of pleased recognition.
The mage raised his hand and let loose a bolt of pure darkness aimed at her chest. Pure reflex saved her life as she threw up a shimmering barrier before her, stopping the cast. A second blast and a third quickly followed as she stared at the mage whose face twisted in anger. The next attack was not directed at
her, but Sagrad, who was struggling to hold two men at bay. Dropping the barrier, she unleashed several spheres at the enemy mage, knowing it was too late to save the prince. A Desert Walker materialized from the press and shoved the prince down, trading his life for Sagrad’s as the bolt ripped through him and a soldier behind. Her spheres of decay reached the mage a second later, forcing him to deal with her magic by bringing up the sword to absorb them. Sagrad rolled away into a group of embattled men and disappeared from sight. Without the prince as a target, the mage returned his attention Vaniece.
This time she was ready. She took control of several dead men near him, directing them at the mage and priests. One of the dark-robed men went down screaming as the risen tore into him with their bare hands and teeth. The mage slashed, separating the grasping hands from their owners and allowing Vaniece the time she needed. A black ribbon of magic flowed from her hand, traveling above the heads of the embattled men. The enemy mage looked up just in time to see her cast approach. He grinned and raised the sword to absorb it, but when her magic wrapped around the sword, the grin on the mage’s face changed to surprise. The ribbon did not expel magical power but absorbed it. Twirling around the blade, her cast crept further to the cross-guard as the mage tried to jerk away. When the ribbon reached his magical hand, it vanished, and the sword dropped, tumbling down the hill. Before the mage could dash after it, she released more spheres, forcing him to create a wall of his own to stop them.
The fighting around her pressed closer to the breach, and soon the enemy soldiers were trying to climb back up without taking a sword in the back. The mage banished the wall, his eyes going from the sword to her with a look of hatred. He tried to strike at her again, but the barrier was there to meet his magic. When he could not reach her, he lashed out at the defenders only to be cut short when she unleashed her own magic. They were at an impasse, with neither able to gain the advantage. Soon, the last of the invaders were running past him, and he was forced to flee or be taken by the Desert Walkers. With one final glance at her, he turned and walked away without hurry, the remaining priests trailing protectively.