Izaryle's Will

by Levi Samuel

  The highlord and his advisers stood captive, removed of their weapons. Each one stood bound and gagged, held in position by his officers. Such a task was too important to have sullied by an incompetent grunt. The lesser nobles laid dead on the floor, blood trickling between the cracked floorboards.

  Nezial marched toward them, making eye contact with each of his officers. They had to know he was in charge. He passed three of them, finding one who refused to break the gaze. Drawing his sabre, he stabbed it deep into the dreualfar's face, letting the soldier collapse behind his prisoner. Another stepped into position, securing the man.

  Reaching the head of the room he noted which among the humans wore the finest garb. Finding the man, held by one of his captains, he approached and took position in front of him. He gave the captain a gentle nod.

  The dreualfar ripped the gag from his mouth, letting it fall around his neck.

  Nezial amplified his voice, letting his calm and chilling tone carry throughout the keep. “You thought you were safe behind your thick walls and armed turrets? You thought you could keep us out? You should have known better!” His tone was low but demanding of attention.

  Every human standing in the room cowered at the words, trembling against the grip of their captors.

  Locking his gaze upon the man before him, he surveyed him. His composure and custom-tailored undergarments betrayed his status. Had he been smart enough to use a double, he may have delayed the inevitable. But these humans clearly weren't skilled tacticians. It took him less than a day to infiltrate their northern capital. With that level of incompetence, he could probably overthrow their entire empire in a matter of weeks. And with this success, and the joining of the other lines, that was entirely possible, provided his plans took him that far.

  Returning to the now, his gaze narrowed on the middle-aged human. “Highlord Kashus, you know what I've come for. Give it to me and I’ll ensure you have a quick and merciful death. Defy me and you’ll experience more pain than any one person should ever know.”

  Kashus jerked his shoulders away from his guard, taking a step forward. He stopped directly in front of the dreualfar commander. “You may have crushed this city and killed every person in your path. And you may do the same to me. But I will never help you.” Finalizing his statement, he spat his defiance into the commander’s face.

  Nezial calmly wiped away the saliva. His defiance was admirable, but folly. He nodded to the captain once again.

  The captain shot forward, securing the human at the base of his spine. Digging his elongated nails into the fleshy collar bone, he forced him to his knees. Towering over him, he twisted his shoulders, ensuring constant discomfort and forcing him to keep his attention on the commander.

  Nezial leaned in, placing his mouth inches from the subdued lord’s ear. He could have licked the man if he so desired. “I was hoping you’d say that.” His wicked smile revealed his sharp, dagger-like teeth. Wrapping his fingers around the hilt of his sword, he pulled fast and hard, bashing the highlord in the face. His nose crunch beneath the pommel.

  Kashus stumbled, falling unconscious to the wooden floor.

  Nezial slid his blade back into its proper position and straightened himself. “Search him.”

  The captain knelt down and riffled the man, finding a golden chain tucked beneath this tunic. Pulling it free, a small silver key was revealed. He ripped it free and handed it to his commander.

  Nezial stepped over the body, holding the key up to the stained-glass window overlooking the room. Aligning it with the designs, he smiled and tucked it into his satchel. “Take him to the chamber of pain and secure him. He’s going to learn that I’m no liar. As for the others.” He glanced around the room. “Kill them.” He held his hand up, gesturing a small loop with his fingertips. Bringing the invisible ring around him he disappeared, hearing the screams follow him through the portal.

  Chapter XV

  An Unwelcome Shadow

  The golden fields outside of Shadgull City were speckled with tabards of blue and green. Soldiers struck in unison, mimicking the actions of their instructor.

  Gareth felt his sweat drenched tunic cling to his back, warmed by the midday sun. He couldn't recall the last time he’d truly broken a sweat and now he was covered in the salty substance. He swung his pike outward striking with the butt end, watching his students follow suit. It was a simple task. Train the new recruits and separate the pikesmen from the shieldsmen. Service to the Shadgull army was demanding, but he found it to his liking. And it offered a fair amount of coin as a freelance.

  “Master Polearm!” A young and out of breath voice called from behind him.

  “At ease!” He watched the men shoulder their staves, taking rest. Stabbing the butt of his weapon into the dirt, he spun around to find a young man in his late teens standing in salute. A dark green tabard marked with a black trident across the chest burned its contrast into his eyes. Gareth glanced at the man's waist, searching for the circular badge emblazoned upon his sash. “What have you got for me, Initiate?”

  “My Lord, the scouts have returned. Arborlond was attacked. We have proof it was the dreu. Reports say they’re headed north.”

  Gareth took in the man's words, feeling his rage grow with each syllable. Refusing to let his emotion show in front of the man he gave a restrained nod. “Keep me posted. I want to know the second they move south of the gate.”

  The messenger offered salute a second time. “Yes, sir!”

  Gareth waved off his salute, giving a half-assed return. “And have Ravion prepare an envoy to Evinwood. We need to know why the alfar allowed the dreu to attack so close to their border without alerting us.”

  The messenger nodded and returned to his horse. Climbing up, he positioned himself in the saddle and urged the steed onward. It sprang into action, carrying him out of sight.

  Gareth pulled his pike from the ground and returned his attention to the men. “Fall in!”

  The wilds of Evinwood were a sight to behold. They were rumored to be the most beautiful place in all of Dalmoura, and thus far held true to that. Flowers grew in abundance, animals frolicked in their instinctive lives, and the massive trees loomed over the world offering shade and comfort to all beneath their canopy.

  The band of humans pushed through the luscious forest, ignoring all penalty from the natural defenses of the land. Their green tabards cried in protest against the sharp barbs and ridged branches, ripping free of the layered linen. The snap of a bowstring drew their attention. Weapons at the ready they took position back to back, searching for the source. To their surprise, they were surrounded by a ring of arrows standing vertical, their heads buried in the dirt. Not only were they surrounded, they were outnumbered.

  A smooth, yet commanding voice echoed through the trees, sending an unsettling chill down their spines. “Why do I have five men traipsing through my forest? I've not received so much as a message announcing your arrival.”

  They searched for the unseen speaker, feeling helpless, but resolved to their training. Cowardice was not acceptable, especially on assignment. It could send the wrong message for The Order as a whole. Clenching their weapons, they waited, unsure if they should speak or not.

  “I see you’re men of Marbayne. Tell me, where is your commander, for I desire to speak with him? Ravion? Kane? I find it unlikely they would send men into my realm without first contacting me.” The slender figure stepped from the trees, revealing his presence to the entrapped men. He stood several inches taller than the average human and carried a superior gracefulness. His armor appeared to be forged from the trees themselves, layered with oak leaves and reinforced plates of bark. Upon closer inspection it was clearly made of finely crafted leather with an expert's tooling, each detail carved to perfection. His hair was tied in a bun at shoulder length and a bow was strung across his back. Twin swords rested upon his hips and a narrow quiver of arrows hung below his kidney.

  They were lost in the sight of the myrkalfar, s
o entranced by his majestic stature that they hadn’t seen the others step into view, their bows drawn and aimed to kill. “Ma— My Lord!” One of the scouts gave a respectful bow, finding his tongue. “We were sent by Kane. He ordered us to investigate the silence from Tresengal. We haven't heard anything from them since before Arborlond was attacked.”

  “You seem to have gotten lost. Tresengal is north of Heroes Gate. You’ve found your way into the lands of Evinwood. But where are my manners? I am Aldulrien Quetalious Denarie, King of Evinwood and lord of the myrkalfar.” He gave an exaggerated bow. “As for your assignment, I fear things are worse than your lords realize. The dreualfar have returned to the surface. They’ve amassed an army bred for war and I fear my people alone cannot hold them off. Maradar Keep has already fallen to a fraction of their number.” He looked at his men, still holding their aim. Motioning them, they lowered their bows. “But I assume you’ll want to confirm this for yourselves.” He raised his hands, giving a gentle wave.

  The trees behind the scouts groaned and flexed, bending at their trunks. Vines of ivy and barbs crawled away as if they were alive, revealing a clear path through the dense forest.

  “Make haste, for the path will not last long. Once you’ve reached the wall, you’ll find a crack large enough to crawl through. Tresengal lies just on the other side.”

  In the blink of an eye, the king and his men were nowhere to be seen, leaving the scouts to their solitude. Sheathing their weapons, they turned down the path laid out for them.

  They reached the wall in no time, more than likely some kind of alfaren magic, they suspected. As promised, there was a break in the thick stone, just wide enough for a single man slip through. One by one they crawled to the other side, finding a different world. Where the forest had been warm in the midday sun, this new realm was cold and dark, as if somehow night had fallen while they were inside the thirty-foot stone barrier.

  Aldridge was beginning to slow for the evening. It’d been a hot, sticky day in the summer heat, but the cool evening air was beginning to settle in for the night.

  Kane stood at the edge of town watching the forest road, not far in the distance. His breastplate shined in the fading sun, displaying a brilliant symbol upon each shoulder, announcing his affiliations. The right side was an engraved smoked colored trident, trimmed in emerald, while the left radiated a faint red glow of a bricked tower. The second burned above the metal, seemingly applied through magic rather than alteration.

  His patience was wearing thin. “They should have returned nearly four hours ago.” He fumed, concerned by their absence. Glancing at the fading sun, watching the final slither disappear behind the horizon, he had to admit to himself that they weren’t returning. I can't wait any longer. Sighing heavily, he turned and made his way for the tower. Perhaps the magi will be able to scry and explain the reason for their tardiness. A glimmer of hope growing inside him, he passed through the large iron gates set into the red brick walls. Continuing up the winding walkway he stepped through the red stone archway, feeling the power of the boss wash over him.

  The haze filled grounds cleared, illuminated by floating orbs of various colored light. The towering structure shot into the sky as far as he could see, disappearing into the rolling clouds above. The tower's front entrance stood open, inviting him.

  Kane stepped through the perfect sized opening, watching the breezeway expand before him.

  A row of templar stood along each side, awaiting need of their services. Catching sight of their commander they snapped to attention, raising their pikes to form an archway.

  The armored warrior paused a moment, giving them time to perform the unnecessary ceremony. He stepped through acknowledging each man, silently reciting their names and family status. It wasn't a common practice, but he felt it an important one. Even if he didn't put it into words, it showed the men that he cared about them and would personally see to their families’ wellbeing in the event of their death. Wars could be won or lost with the loyalty a man felt for his commander, and he wasn't going to fall short.

  He reached the opening at the far end of the entrance and stepped through, taken back by the sight, as always.

  The chamber went on what seemed like forever, unconfined by the outside walls. The main room, a greeting area for visitors, was filled with rugs of the finest quality covering the floors. Their extravagant colors splayed out, intertwining with each other in the most fantastic ways. Large tapestries hung from the towering, red walls, displaying wondrous depictions of mighty wizards and battles long past. Frames hung here and there, their occupants moving about and interacting with the world around them. It was quite a sight to behold. Servants and apprentices alike rushed about, obeying the requests of their masters. It was utter chaos in the most organized way imaginable.

  He passed the dancing colors and turned to face a well-fed woman sitting on the back side of a large oaken desk. She wore a fine blue dress with white lace. Her spectacles were crescent shaped, barely covering her eyes, and her long, brown hair dangled over the large tome resting in front of her.

  She glanced at the man overshadowing her. “Good evening, Master Kane. How fares the heat outside?”

  “It's cooling off a bit, but I fear it’ll return in the morning. I don't mean to be rude, but I must speak with Relavin immediately. Can you tell him I'm on my way?”

  The portly woman gave a half-hearted smile. “Not a problem, I'll inform him right away.”

  Kane stepped into a small archway off the side of the room. There was no floor, nor ceiling, just an empty room void of all save for a strange illumination that caused the walls to glow a light blue. Both the floor and ceiling were black as a starless night.

  He envisioned the mage, focusing all his will into the man's image. The blue light radiating from the wall pulsed and twisted. Within a moment it shifted to a bright orange and began to spin.

  The greeting room faded from view, surrounding him in the dizzying orange. His stomach churned with the changing color, growing more intense by the moment. Just when he thought he was going to lose himself, it returned to its calm blue, revealing a different room where the first had been. Taking a heavy breath to settle his stomach, he stepped into the large study.

  The room was packed full of shelves, overflowing with books of all colors and sizes. There was a large oak table in the center with a single matching chair. Racks and curtains hung in various places, leaving much of the floor open but cluttered. The far end was draped by a large white curtain, dividing the study from the bed chamber, magically hovering in place.

  A slightly overweight human appeared through the hovering barrier, as if he were a ghost. The dangling cloth remained stationary, despite his passing. He wore a white sleeping robe and had a matching tapered hat on his head with a single puffy ball at the end. His short curly hair was golden brown and his pale-white skin contained many freckles.

  A hearty yawn escaped him. He stretched, flexing his back. “What can I do for you this evening, my friend?” Relavin asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

  “I'm sorry to wake you. I know you have much to do and sleep can be a rare commodity, but I have a terrible feeling that something big is about to happen.”

  “Generally, when one feels such emotion they are rarely wrong. The question is rather, where and when this big event is to take place?” Relavin cracked a slight smile, knowing the man hated how the magi turned the simplest of statements into the most detailed philosophies.

  Kane gave a weary smile, realizing his friend was picking on him. “I sent a group to scout Tresengal. They should have returned hours ago. We've received several reports of dreu activity, but we can’t dispatch the armies until we have solid evidence that they're headed this way. I can't get any of them to mobilize until I have something substantial. And thus far I have nothing but aftermath.”

  “Kane, I’m a wizard of the tower, I do not require schooling in the customs and regulations of the union. Part of my wizardry respo
nsibilities is to maintain and manage these relations.”

  Kane sighed deeply, realizing his friend’s accuracy. “I'm sorry, Relavin. I traveled with you how long?”

  “Six years.” Relavin interjected

  The warrior placed his hands on one of the small tables, feeling it creak beneath his weight. “Yes, and in those six years I learned your responsibilities very well, as you’ve learned mine. I ask you, in that time, how often were my instincts wrong? I assure you something is happening and I fear this absence is directly connected to it.”

  Relavin flicked his wrist, walking toward the sturdy table decorating the center of the room. “Very well, my friend. I trust you. If it’ll make you happy and allow me to get back to sleep, I'll scry on them. Alive or dead, we’ll at least discover what information they carry.”

  A thick tome with a dark brown binding flew from the shelf and landed softly on the table in front of the mage.

  Relavin opened the book as if the correct page was already marked. He grabbed a bowl of sparkly dust from the one of the shelves and sprinkled a small amount over the exposed pages, reading the incantation. “Sterces ruoy em wohs!”

  The room faded black, revealing a circular light over the book. Inside displayed a meeting between the scouts and the alfaren king. The scouts stepped onto a clear path and disappeared. The light followed the king and his men to a secluded grove, deep in the forest's heart.

  “The dreualfar are a taint upon this land. They must be stopped!” Aldulrien demanded, spitting on the ground.

  For an alfar he seemed very human in trait, save for his pointed ears and his affinity for natural looking garments.

  “I have a favor to ask.” The myrkalfar king continued.