by Dan Zangari
Melthas and Adrin were right behind him, but Melthas turned back to Cornar. “Are you coming, Naedar?”
Might as well, Cornar thought. Perhaps he would recognize someone else from the expedition.
* * * * *
Cornar crept behind his father and Adrin, moving down a narrow hall on the nineteenth floor. They had passed several doors, all guarded by Mindolarn soldiers. None of the guards regarded Cornar and the others; the soldiers probably thought the three of them were a small patrol. They had passed others in groups of three and four, but never two. That was probably why Melthas had called for Cornar to join them.
“There should be a service staircase around here,” Adrin said. They turned a corner and found an unguarded door. Adrin hurried to it. “In here.” He opened the door, beckoning to Melthas and Cornar.
The room was quite small, with a tiny spiral staircase. They climbed the staircase one by one and entered a simple-looking space. Though it was large, its décor was quite stark when compared to the rest of the castle. Part of the far wall curved away, looking like the unseen part of an arched ceiling.
“Over here,” Adrin said. “The servants use these accesses here to clean the chandeliers.” He moved to a square wooden panel along the curving wall and slowly opened it. Melthas stepped up right beside Adrin, barely allowing Cornar a glimpse through the opening.
“By all that’s magical…” Adrin said with a gasp.
“They’re all there!” Melthas restrained his voice. He sounded excited.
“Who?” Cornar asked.
“Take a look,” Melthas said, and moved away, grinning. “We can strike a devastating blow against the Mindolarn Empire tonight. We might even be able to crush this reign of tyranny once and for all!”
Melthas’s stoic resolve worried Cornar. Mindolarn tyranny had not been crushed this night. Cornar stepped up to the hole, swallowing hard.
The banquet hall sprawled below him. It was filled with tables of men and women dressed in aristocratic clothing.
“Over there.” Adrin nudged him, pointing to a long table that spanned the length of the far wall. Nearly two dozen men and women sat at the table, but the center five were distinguished by lavish thrones. They all looked similar, like brothers. Cornar didn’t know who they were. Adrin must have sensed this.
“You don’t recognize them?” the grand mage asked.
“No…”
“For goodness’ sake, Naedar,” Melthas said through clenched teeth. “Those are Mindolarn’s brothers! The one in the center is Emperor Medis.”
The emperor of the Mindolarn Empire?
“We can kill them all, Naedar!” Melthas sounded crazed with a bloodlust. “Medis, Mendal, Magdolin, Monddar, and Marden.”
“There are bound to be countless Praetorians here,” Adrin said warily. “We might have to call off this attack.”
“But they’re not armored,” Melthas said. “They’re just there, feasting. If you had a channeling staff, you could kill all five of them right here.” He sounded overzealous.
“I don’t know…” Adrin shook his head. His resolve about the attack seemed to be waning.
“Adrin, when in the history of this accursed empire have all the brothers been in the same room?” Adrin didn’t answer. “We will strike a devastating blow tonight,” Melthas said.
“I wish Zatryn were here,” Adrin said with a sigh.
“I doubt Kandish will swoop in, like at Tergol,” Melthas said.
Kandish at Tergol? Cornar wondered with bewilderment. The only person who had swooped in was that man in the white armor. And hadn’t Adrin called him Zatryn?
“We need to reevaluate our plan,” Melthas said, hurrying to the spiral staircase. Adrin moved to close the access panel, but Cornar held it open. The mage took one look at him but followed after Melthas.
Cornar studied the banquet hall, searching for anyone he might recognize. It was quite large. Windows behind the table with the emperor allowed a view to the mountains. The windows rose three stories and followed the arch of the ceiling. The whole room was gaudy, like the rest of the castle.
Kaescis sat at one end of the long table, to the right of the emperor. A woman sat beside the prince, her hand intertwined with his. Kaescis leaned toward her, whispering in her ear. She turned, giving him a flirtatious grin. Kaescis leaned in and kissed her.
His wife? Cornar remembered Kaescis mentioning her death that first day on the Executor’s Breath. Kaescis gazed at her like only a man in love would. The woman leaned back in her chair, placing a hand on Kaescis’s arm and revealing her pregnant belly.
But Kaescis said he didn’t have any children—
Cornar suddenly felt sick to his stomach, and sadness washed over him. He pushed those feelings aside and surveyed the rest of the room. At least two hundred feasted in the banquet hall. Soldiers wearing red armor stood along the walls: Crimson Praetorians. A balcony lined the second story, filled with more Crimson Praetorians. His father’s band was definitely outnumbered, though the odds were not as bad as when the three of them faced that army outside Tergol.
“Naedar!” Melthas’s voice whispered from the stairs. “Aren’t you coming?” Cornar took one last sweeping glance at the banquet hall and closed the access panel.
They marched back through the narrow corridor and made their way to the guest chambers where the others were gathered. The room was cramped with eighty-four of them in there.
“We have a new target,” Melthas said, grinning. “The emperor is here, along with his brothers. All of them.”
Some of the Elites let out surprised gasps. They seemed as eager as he was. Granted, most of his father’s Elites were men that had suffered under the tyranny of the Mindolarn Empire.
“Alegar is still mine to kill,” Melthas said. “But Medis and his brothers are fair game.”
Melthas elaborated on the plan to break into the banquet hall. They would slay the guards in unison and then charge inside. Melthas planned to enter through the access area and strike Alegar from above while Adrin led the charge. Cornar learned that Alegar was the man sitting on the other side of Kaescis at the table.
Once the plan was reviewed, the mages began enhancing everyone. Those wielding destructive magics imbued all the weapons: side swords and fanisars. The last mages to cast spells were the barsionists.
Cornar felt quickened by the enhancing magic, and slightly stronger. One of the support mages had cast a spell that seemed to bolster everyone’s abilities. Heartbeats fluttered around him, like a cacophony of drums.
“Jamar, Vedin, with me,” Melthas said, and stepped to the door. He listened for a moment and then exited the guest chamber.
“Six of you need to be invisible,” Adrin said. Several Elites moved to the door and Adrin made them disappear with his magic. “Kill in unison.” He turned and exited the guest chambers, leading the army to the banquet hall.
By the time Cornar and the others arrived, the guards at the banquet hall’s entrance were already dead, their lifeless bodies propped up beside the double doors.
Adrin went straight for the center set of doors, uttering an incantation. The grand mage threw the doors open, drawing the attention of all inside while glowing a lavender hue. The people feasting started upon seeing Adrin and his coalescing magic. Many gasped.
Disintegrating bolts swarmed around Adrin as he finished the incantation, drawing screams from the crowd. Crimson Praetorians bolted from along the walls while Melthas’s Elites charged in, mercilessly cutting down those trying to flee.
Some of the people feasting moved to block Adrin’s advance, but he dashed to one of the tables and leapt up onto it. Then he jumped to an unnatural height, ready to unleash his magic.
“Your time is at an end, Medis!” Adrin shouted, hurling dozens of disintegrating bolts at the emperor.
One of the men on the thrones—Monddar perhaps—grabbed Emperor Medis and brought his other forearm in front of his brother. A ripple of blackness erupted fr
om a band on his forearm, forming a shield.
Adrin’s bolts struck the black shield, which misted devouring particles. A tevisral that could harness the Darkness magic? Cornar wondered with wide eyes. The mist consumed the disintegrating orbs. Just like Iltar’s Necrotic Sphere of Protection.
At that same moment, Melthas dropped from the vaulted ceiling, falling with his weapons drawn. None of the Royals at the long table noticed him. Melthas fell straight for Alegar. He collided with the prince, knocking him to the ground. Cornar couldn’t quite tell, but he thought he saw his father’s serrated dagger make contact with Alegar’s face.
Pandemonium erupted in the banquet hall as Elites and Praetorians clashed. Some of the people fled out of the now opened doors but were cut down by the invisible soldiers. Melthas’s men ensured that no one escaped. Praetorians on the balconies leapt over the railings, joining the fray. Adrin continued his advance, mustering more deadly magic.
Cornar stood still, surveying the battle. I don’t have to fight here, he thought. Jamar and Vedin leap from the ceiling, dropping onto Praetorians engaged with other Elites.
Adrin’s advance was stopped as Bratan rose from a nearby table, tackling the grand mage. The brutish man yelled a battle cry and picked up Adrin, pushing him across the banquet hall, ramming him into table after table.
“You shall face the fury of Cheserith!” the emperor shouted. Cornar looked across the banquet hall, seeing Emperor Medis raising his hand into the air. He shouted sharp-sounding words, and blackness oozed from his outstretched hand. It formed a long shaft that shaped into a thick claymore-like blade. That weapon… It was a lot like the one Kaescis had used against the Sapphire Guard.
Once the weapon formed, Medis leapt atop the table, blade held high. He gazed at Adrin, who had just kicked Bratan away.
“You!” the emperor growled, pointing the massive Darkness sword at Adrin. “You slew our brothers! We will have—”
Melthas rose from behind the table, weapons glowing with deadly magic. Medis turned, but Melthas tackled the emperor, knocking him off the table.
Father! Cornar clenched his teeth. Melthas was so close to that deadly blade. One hit and it would tear through Melthas’s barsion.
Those behind the table, including Kaescis, began casting their own spells. The prince stretched a hand to the woman behind him, covering her pregnant belly. Blue light shone from his hand, then veiled the woman in a layer of barsion. In Kaescis’s other hand, a simple shaft of blackness appeared. It looked to be the length of a side sword. Why hadn’t Kaescis summoned that massive blade?
Adrin made his way toward Melthas, leaping over Praetorians that tried to intercept him. The grand mage’s armor made it harder for him to be as acrobatic as he had been during the battle outside Tergol.
“Naedar!” an Elite shouted. “Fight!” The Elite was dueling with a Praetorian. “Fight!”
“I knew we should have sent him back!” another complained, stabbing a Praetorian between his breastplate and helmet.
A nearby Praetorian broke through an Elite’s barsion, driving his purple-hued fanisar through the Elite’s breastplate. The Praetorian withdrew his weapon, blood disintegrating and evaporating along the blade. With his foe dead, the Praetorian turned and dashed straight for Cornar.
Guess I can’t just observe, Cornar thought and lunged to intercept the Praetorian. Cornar dodged a blow and wildly swung at his foe with his side sword. He had a fanisar in his other hand, but it was too clunky to dual-wield.
Cornar put some distance between him and the Praetorian, throwing his fanisar like a javelin. The destructive magic around the fanisar’s blade pierced the barsion surrounding the Praetorian, gouging his breastplate.
The side sword, he thought, glancing to the fallen Elite.
The Praetorian lunged, attacking again. Cornar dropped to the ground, rolling sideways over some bodies while claiming the dead Elite’s side sword. He could do some real damage like this… Gripping two short weapons invigorated him.
Cornar spun to his feet as the Praetorian lunged again, but so did Cornar. He got close enough to be out of effective range for the fanisar. Cornar rapidly sliced along his foe’s breastplate, then struck the gouge in the armor. It cracked, and the Praetorian backed away.
Cornar grinned and continued his advance. He threw a piercing blow, but the Praetorian pushed the weapon aside with his gauntlet. Cornar had expected that and followed up with his other side sword. The movement was so fast that by the time the Praetorian reacted Cornar had already pierced his chest.
The Praetorian slumped, falling backward.
Cornar spun, surveying the rest of the battle. Melthas was holding his own against Medis, blocking blows from that massive misting blade with his serrated dagger. Both of his father’s weapons had a persistent mist of blackness around them. They must have absorbed part of the emperor’s weapon.
Adrin had since engaged the emperor’s brothers. The grand mage wielded a telekinetic spell and hurled it at one of the Royals—not the one who had shielded Medis. The magic hurled the man through the windows, shattering them completely. He plummeted out of view, shouting what sounded like a spell.
That left only three of Adrin’s opponents.
Cornar glimpsed Kaescis guiding the woman along the far wall. The prince was obviously trying to get her out of the banquet hall, but the raging battle blocked their way.
One of the Praetorians near Kaescis fell before Jamar, and then the Elite turned to the prince. Jamar dashed with his weapon outstretched, clashing with Kaescis. Another Elite was right behind Jamar.
Kaescis shouted for the woman to run, calling her by what Cornar assumed to be her name, Helgara. Kaescis engaged both Elites, but Jamar repulsed the prince. Panicked, Helgara ran, darting along the wall. She was halfway to the doors when one of Melthas’s Elites spotted her.
The man dashed toward Helgara, tackling her to the ground. Cornar watched with horror as the Elite repeatedly struck the barsion protecting her. Helgara screamed and thrashed, breaking free of the Elite as the barsion surrounding her shattered.
Defenseless, Helgara staggered, falling against the wall. The Elite, however, rebounded, mercilessly slamming his side sword into Helgara’s face. She screamed, but fell silent quickly.
So, that’s how it happened, Cornar mused, and then started.
The Elite then did the unthinkable… he drew his weapon from Helgara’s face and—Cornar couldn’t watch. He turned away, but heard Kaescis’s cries of anguish and rage ringing above the pandemonium of the battle.
“The Harbinger will betray his master, slaying him in his very home. The master’s passing will go unnoticed. His death will be dismissed without consequence.”
- Prophecy of Soron Thahan
Eruptions of magic resounded through the banquet hall as Cornar regained his composure. He had never supposed his father’s troops were so ruthless. It sickened him. Cornar had killed in the past, but never innocents.
“Fight with him,” a voice boomed throughout the banquet hall, but no one seemed to pay attention to it.
Cornar looked to the ceiling, searching for the source of that voice. “Why?” he demanded. Then everything quieted. Cornar turned, seeing that everyone in the banquet hall was frozen. Some were suspended mid-air.
“Because Naedar fought alongside your father. In order for this sequence to be played out correctly you must engage the Faithful.”
Cornar furrowed his brow, confused. The Faithful? he wondered.
“You are ready to behold what I promised you,” the voice boomed. “But you must fight.”
Cornar took a deep breath. He hated being compelled. Shaking his head, Cornar paced around the room. With the battle paused in this odd manner, Cornar thought he could glean some insight—what, he didn’t know.
Curious, Cornar examined the dead around some of the tables. Many had been run through, but their wounds weren’t bloody. The imbued magic on the Elite’s blades had cauterized the wo
unds. At least a dozen Elites had fallen.
A man dressed in affluent clothing caught Cornar’s eye, clutching an odd coin. It was nothing like Cornar had ever seen. The coin was silver, oval-shaped, with a golden lip around its edge. Within the coin’s center was a protruding figure of a winged creature. The man’s fingers were covering much of the effigy, but Cornar thought it looked like a dragon—at least, the supposed depiction of one.
“What are you looking for?” the voice demanded.
“I don’t know,” Cornar said. “And it’s not like I’m in a hurry.”
An amused grunt resounded throughout the banquet hall.
Cornar picked his way around toppled tables, corpses, and frozen combatants. He shied away from Helgara’s corpse and made his way to the table where the Royals had sat. He glimpsed Alegar’s headless body lying beside the table, chest down, his hands covered in red. The prince’s head was nowhere to be found.
“So you did it,” Cornar whispered. “You avenged mother.” The sight of his mother’s murderer quelled a once-burning vengeance Cornar thought was all but forgotten. Although Alegar hadn’t slain her directly, he was still responsible. His mother’s true killer had undoubtedly died during the battle at Tergol.
Cornar began to turn away but started upon seeing the dead prince’s hands. He thought Alegar’s hands were covered in blood, as they were red—but no blood pooled nearby. In fact, Alegar’s neck was completely cauterized.
What…? Cornar muttered, squinting at the dead prince. Alegar’s hands were rough, like the scales of a reptile. Where the nails should be were dark obsidian cl—
An eruption of magic thrust Cornar sideways and the chaotic sounds of battle resumed. Cornar slid across the polished stone, straight for the broken window.
No! Cornar slammed his side swords into the ground, attempting to slow himself, but the magic coating the blades negated any resistance they once had. Cornar slid until reaching a lip of stone beneath the window, stopping abruptly, his torso hanging over the edge.
Cornar looked over his shoulder. The banquet hall was at one end of the main keep and hung over the castle’s outer walls. Though the room was on the eighteenth floor, the ground was farther away. That fatal drop was most likely twenty-five or thirty stories, due to the elevated nature of the castle.