Arrogant man, I think to myself, shaking my head sadly. Mages like him think that magic is the ultimate authority, putting him above the law.
Such thinking is everything that is wrong with the Conclave.
My feet crunch on gravel as I climb the trail through the mountain valley. All around me, mist rises from hot springs in the earth, bubbling from below and giving life to the farmlands. Unfortunately, those farms had been trampled and razed by King Aethelgar's army weeks ago, before the rangers came to our rescue. As I pass by burnt homesteads and mass graves dug for the dead, I am reminded of the price of war. This city was almost broken, its residents almost completely destroyed. Even now, long after the battle, a feeling of mourning hangs heavy in the air.
Despite all of that, the people of Dunmar are resilient. After burying their loved ones, they immediately began salvaging the remains of their city, clearing the rubble from their streets and rebuilding their homes.
The entrance to the mountain yawns open before me like an enormous mouth, a sight that I still haven't quite gotten used to after all these weeks. The remains of the fortifications, built into the mountainside flanking the great entryway, still carry patrols of Nightingales, their dark cloaks stark against the white-grey of the granite walls. On the open field outside the doors, orderly rows of tents have been set up, temporary dwellings for the rangers as they help with the rebuilding efforts.
As I approach, I can see many of the green-clad woodsmen training out in the cold, relentlessly honing their skills with the blade and the bow.
"Crazy rangers," I mutter, pulling my hood up and shivering. "Can they not sit still for a single minute?"
Suddenly, something grabs me from behind, clutching my shoulder in a vice-like grip. I let out a scream of alarm, grabbing my talisman and preparing myself to pull in enough source energy to burn my attacker to cinders.
Then, I hear laughing.
"Light curse you, Owyn!" I turn to see the ranger apprentice doubled over in laughter. "You know I hate it when you sneak up on me!"
"Sorry," he replies, his face split into a huge grin. "I couldn't help myself. I'm just a crazy ranger who can't sit still for a single minute."
I roll my eyes at him in an exaggerated fashion. "I'll look past the fact you were eavesdropping on me and tell you that you've only proven my point. Honestly... why is it that you always find the need to go sneaking about?"
He shrugs, wiping a tear from his eye. "It makes it easier."
"Makes what easier?"
"Catching a glimpse of your backside." He gives me a sly smile.
I open my mouth in mock outrage, then reach out to punch him lightly on the shoulder. "Degenerate!"
In the blink of an eye, he deflects my faux-attack and wraps his arm around me, pulling me close and pressing my body against his. I playfully pound my fist against the leather armor of his chest, dropping my jaw in mock outrage.
"Unhand me! I am a mage! I'll not be handled like some–"
He kisses me, soft lips pressing against mine midsentence.
I instantly melt in his arms, forgetting all about whatever witty thing I was about to say. I kiss him back, returning his tight embrace passionately as the world seems to slow down around us, fading away. His arms, so powerful and strong, encircle me as his closeness fills me with a warmth that drives away the winter chill. Even with everything that's wrong in the world, I'm happy that we can share moments like these.
They are like a beam of light shining through the suffocating darkness.
Finally, we break off our passionate kiss, though it feels like it's over far too quickly. He grins at me again, that same crooked smile that fills my stomach with butterflies, and I proceed to make a pouty face at him.
"It's not fair that you can do that," I say, looking deeply into his forest green eyes.
"Do what?" He asks, eyebrows knitting together.
"Kiss me like that," I reply, leaning in and resting my head against his chest. "It makes me think that you can get away with anything, Owyn Lund."
He chuckles. "I don't know about that."
We stand there for a long moment, holding each other as the wind gusts around us. Distantly, I can hear the clanging of metal as the other rangers spar, but I ignore the noise, silently wishing that I can stand with him forever.
"The leaders are meeting soon," he whispers, warm breath gently caressing my ear.
"I know," I reply sullenly, squeezing my eyes shut. "What I wouldn't give for a break, a holiday from demons and war. Surely the world will still be there when we return?"
He remains quiet, which speaks louder than anything he could have said.
The harsh reality of our situation dawns on both of us, snuffing out the romantic embers we had just kindled. The world might not be there when we return – the R'Laar and those seeking to sow chaos in the kingdom will never rest until the last kingdom on Byhalya has fallen.
Whatever is now happening between the two of us, it will have to wait until the threat is over.
"Fine," I sigh, reluctantly stepping away from him. "Let's go. Maybe if we hurry, we can get there before Barus can suck all of the air out of the room."
He smiles faintly and places his hand on the small of my back, walking beside me as I continue up the gravel road to the gates of the city.
Several of the Nightingale guards wave at us as we pass, nodding in respect as they regard us from their posts. That is one thing about battle that never ceases to amaze me: a common cause can turn even the most unlikely groups into unwavering allies.
The city, even with all of the rebuilding efforts, still remains a husk of its former glory. Homes stand empty and gutted, looted by the king's armies, while refuse and debris litter the streets. Still, the citizenry labors on, picking up the pieces with grim determination, pushing wheelbarrows and doing their best to clean up the soot and the dust.
Before us, at the back of the great cavern that houses Dunmar City, is the Citadel, a black fortress lit by smoldering braziers of magefyre. It looks even more ominous than the first time I laid eyes on it, like a half-broken edifice of polished obsidian.
The portcullis is open, the iron-wrought gates newly repaired and resembling an open maw with jagged teeth. More Nightingale soldiers stand guard here, though none think to stop us as we make our way inside.
Our faces and, more importantly, our actions have distinguished us among the rebel freedom fighters.
We make our way silently through the twisting tunnels beneath the fortress, Owyn a source of strength walking beside me. It isn't long before we find ourselves before the doors leading into the Protector's audience chamber, the flickering torches casting dancing shadows around us.
"Ready?" Owyn asks, eyes glinting in the torchlight.
"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose." I offer him a wan smile.
He nods, then pushes open the door.
Inside, the sound of arguing voices is cut short as we enter, everyone looking over their shoulders at us. A long table has been set up in the middle of the wide antechamber, with high-backed seats lining its perimeter. Sitting at those seats are Elias, Talon, General Barus, the Master Warden Tamara Moyle, and an assortment of Nightingale leaders, including the guardsman Sturgis. At the head of the table sits Protector Xander Thel, his crisp military uniform as neat as ever.
“Ah,” he says cordially, gesturing to a pair of empty seats down the table. “Owyn and Zara, thank you for coming. Please, be seated.”
We make our way awkwardly into the room and sit down.
Light, I think to myself, situating myself across from Talon. They must have started early... and everyone seems to have known about it except for us.
“Maybe if you weren’t so busy tongue wrestling, you’d actually be able to show up to a meeting on time,” Talon mutters out of the corner of his mouth. The snide comment was directed at Owyn, but he said it loud enough for me to hear it.
Keeping a perfectly neutral expression, I proceed to ki
ck the apprentice in the shin beneath the table.
He emits a decidedly unmanly whimper, and I offer him a pleasant smile, sitting up straight and lacing my fingers in front of me. Owyn lets out a small grunt of a laugh.
“We were just discussing what our next move should be, now that the snows will soon be upon us,” the Protector continues without missing a beat. Despite his perfect posture, he looks worn out, with deep wrinkles furrowing the skin on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. These last few weeks seem to have aged him considerably. “We cannot keep Aethelgar’s men here for the winter without them freezing to death, and we still have the threat of the demons to consider.”
“Let ‘em freeze, I say,” Barus declares brusquely. “They’d give our people similar treatment if the roles were reversed.”
Several of the other Nightingales murmur their agreement.
“That isn’t the way we do things,” the Protector replies sternly, crossing his arms in front of him. “We’re not barbarians.”
“With all due respect, Protector,” Barus says while stroking his black beard, “we’re in the middle of a war. Any prisoners we turn loose will be used against us. You may not like it, but killing the bastards will benefit us the most in the long run.”
Again, more murmurs of approval.
“The R’Laar don’t care about our petty squabbles,” Elias growls, fixing Barus with a look of disapproval. “This civil war is nothing but a distraction. They’ll use it for their own advantage and destroy us while we are weak.”
“Elias is right,” Tamara says, giving the grizzled man a strange look out of the corner of her eye. She appears both beautiful and severe sitting there, blue eyes tearing away from Elias to sweep intensely across the table. “The only path ahead is unity. If we stand divided, then we will all fall together. We must sue for peace with the king if we are to prepare for what is to come.”
“That’s easy for you to say, ranger,” Barus rumbles, face growing red with anger. “You’re a part of that monster’s regime. Don’t think the Nightingales will soon forget the slaughter that happened in the Ashwood. You may have come to our rescue here, but the blood of those women and children still stains your hands.”
Protector Thel slams his fist down on the table. “Enough, Barus!”
The entire chamber falls silent, the tension heavy in the air.
He’s been losing his temper more and more lately, I think, watching as the Protector takes a deep breath and exhales. I can’t imagine the stress he is under.
“Forgive him, Master Warden,” he says at length, looking over at Tamara. “We are, of course, indebted to you and your rangers for coming to our aid. We acknowledge that you are indeed our faithful allies.”
Tamara leans forward, fierce eyes fixed upon Barus. “I’m sorry for what happened to those families,” she says, obviously struggling to be diplomatic. “But we had nothing to do with it. The responsible parties have been punished, and we are doing everything we can to make restitution.”
Barus does not reply, merely grunts and settles back into his chair.
Sensing an opportunity, I decide to speak up. “The fact still remains – the Arc of Radiance is failing. Your own reports, Protector, indicate that demons are getting through at a much higher rate than before. They haven’t yet come through in any sizable force, thank the Light, but they are still terrorizing the countryside. I fear that before winter ends, we will have a full-fledged crisis on our hands.”
Several of the Nightingale attendants whisper to each other in worried tones, and Elias gives me an approving look.
“Are we not safe here in the mountains?” Sturgis asks, turning in his seat to look at the Protector. “We’ve not seen any demons here, and soon the snows will make the roads impassable.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Owyn says, speaking up for the first time. “Snow melts eventually, and if Tarsynium falls in the meantime, Dunmar City will be next. Holing up here would only be delaying the inevitable.”
Several different groups begin breaking off, starting heated conversations of their own. Barus balks at the idea of talking to King Aethelgar about peace, while Tamara begins explaining in frustrated tones the destructive power the demons possess. Talon makes a sarcastic comment, and Protector Thel looks to be at a loss for words. Owyn and I eye each other uncertainly as the room devolves into a series of arguments about what should be done.
Curiously, one person sits quietly during all of this, eyes down in apparent thought.
Ignus, the aged mage from the Nightingale’s Cabal, bears a troubled look on his wrinkled face. He has done much in the rebuilding efforts, despite not having the energy of youth. Since the end of the siege, Ignus has become much more somber. It probably has something to do with the death of the other two members of the Cabal in the fighting. He is now the last remaining mage allied with the Nightingales, which is a tremendous blow to the future of the movement.
Protector Thel also seems to notice the mage sitting down the table from where he stands. “What say you, Ignus?” He asks, raising his voice to be heard above the noise. One by one, everyone in the room stops talking, until a curious silence ensues.
The old mage furrows his brow, looking up and meeting the Protector's eye. "These are troubling times, Xander," he replies, voice morose. "What the young Zara says troubles me, but it has the ring of truth to it."
The Protector leans forward, resting his fists knuckles down on the table. "And what do you suggest we do?"
Ignus hesitates for just a moment, then responds. "I have not seen these demons myself, but I have read the reports. Wars come and go, but this threat seems like something else entirely... I'm afraid we may be dealing with the extinction of the human race."
This seems to strike fear into the hearts of many at the table. They eye one another nervously, though no one dares to speak.
"To me, there is but one choice," he continues, "we must move past our anger toward King Aethelgar and unite with the rest of the kingdom. We cannot cower in these mountains forever."
The Protector eyes him for a moment, then slowly nods, his jaw setting in resignation. "I happen to agree, though truthfully I do not like it," he says at length. He turns to Barus and Sturgis, who both look like they are about to protest. "We have suffered a great betrayal, it is true. Many of our brothers and sisters have been murdered, and one day, I will see that justice is done. However, we risk much more by continuing this war with the king. I do not trust Aethelgar... but peace is the only way for our people to survive."
Taking a deep breath, he turns to address the whole table. "Begin making the necessary preparations. We abandon Dunmar City and make for the Heartlands at once."
Chapter Two
Owyn
As the meeting adjourns, pandemonium breaks out in the meeting chamber.
Barus makes his way over to Thel, vehemently protesting his decision with Sturgis in tow. A dozen other conversations break out around us, filling the vaulted room with the echoing sound of urgent voices along with the squealing noises of chair legs rubbing on stone.
Pushing my own seat back, I stand up and look over at Zara, who flashes me a brilliant smile of triumph. A step in the right direction, I think, returning her smile. Now let’s hope that we can actually put an end to this stupid war.
Talon curses under his breath, favoring his still-wounded arm. His hand had been cut off at the wrist during the battle, and is now wrapped tightly with a thick layer of bandages.
“Just once,” he remarks in annoyance, “I would like to stay in one place and just relax. Instead, I get to sleep in a tent and live outside in the cold.”
“You’re a ranger’s apprentice, Tal,” I reply, smirking. “Living outside is part of the deal.”
We begin making our way to the exit. Zara comes over and falls into step beside me, blue robes swishing with every step.
“In case you haven’t noticed, mate, things have gotten a little out of hand for me lately. I have
n’t had a master teaching me for months!”
“Out of hand?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Did you just make a pun about only having one hand?”
“Oh, Light,” Zara groans. “That’s awful!"
Talon grins. “Just trying to make light of a bad situation. Thought I’d try my hand at a little comedy.”
Zara shakes her head as we step out into the hall. Attendants run to and fro around us, no doubt spreading the news that Dunmar City is to be evacuated. The Citadel is practically buzzing with anxiety. “Thank goodness the Protector saw reason,” she says softly after a moment, lowering her voice and looking over her shoulder conspiratorially. “I was worried they were going to hold up in this cave for the winter and let the rest of the world face the demons on their own.”
“It’s going to be quite the exodus,” I reply, resting a hand on my belt and feeling the comfortable weight of my father’s hatchet. “There’s got to be thousands of people here, not to mention their belongings and livestock. Hopefully the king doesn’t think it’s an invasion.”
“That git will probably want to attack as soon as we leave the mountains,” Talon says. Then, his face turns down into a worried frown. “Do you really think we can convince him to make peace with us?”
“I plan on sending word to the Conclave straight away,” Zara replies evenly. “The High Magus will no doubt pressure Aethelgar politically to make peace with the Nightingales. That, combined with the fact that his impromptu attack of the city was probably not sanctioned by the kingdom’s elites, should be enough to sway him. I hope it is, anyway.”
“If not,” I say, continuing her line of thought, “we’re all going to be in deep trouble.”
The three of us fall silent, our footsteps echoing loudly in the stark hallway. Each of us has seen the reports that have come in from the Nightingale scouts. Demonic monsters seemingly roam the countryside, attacking travelers and villagers everywhere in Tarsynium. The Arc is weakening, and the threat that it poses should now be apparent to everyone.
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