by Han Yang
I dove to the balcony’s floor, feeling relieved I had lunged for cover in time. The arrow did the unthinkable – it diverted its flight and spun downward until it sunk into my back.
Fire erupted into my right lung, and I felt something blocking my magic.
A shriek roared out from my dragon.
A bell rang loudly.
Sounds of fighting from the west gate briefly reached my ears as I struggled to breath.
I crawled into the throne room, hating life. Blood filled my lung, and I struggled to breath.
Jorma was screaming for a healer. Fighting from my room spoke of additional assassins. I could feel my strength waning.
Cecil burst into the room, rushing to my side.
“You can counter this,” Cecil said.
I coughed blood, struggling to speak. “My healing magic isn’t working.”
“Necromancers can heal with their dark magic. You, come here,” Cecil said to one of the guards who faced the balcony. “Hold the Boss’s hand. Good, good. Now, take his Zorta.”
“He’s alive,” I said with a grunt.
“I know, take his Zorta,” Cecil said.
I frowned, shaking my head in confusion. Tarla ran into the room with Maggie in her arms. She skidded on her knees, stopping beside me.
Tarla didn’t hesitate. I saw her grip the arrow that jutted out of my back. She handed Maggie to Cecil then pulled with both hands.
“Argh!” I cried out.
A dizziness consumed me from the sheer agonizing pain. Bright orange and red lights flared in my vision as I squinted from the agony.
A whole new level of anguish roiled through me, and the scent of my burning flesh left no doubt as to what was happening: Tarla fire magic seared my flesh, burning off the Creator’s magic.
I applied my regenerative healing. I had about a million concerns and more than a few questions. Both would have to wait because I passed out, not sure if the assassination attempt had killed me or if I just needed time to heal fully.
CHAPTER 11
Moonguard City
I awoke to the sound of a crying baby. When I peeked an eye open, I saw the bright hues of an early morning day.
After a groan, I propped myself up. Tarla bounced Maggie in her arms unable to soothe our daughter.
“I’ll take her,” I said with an authoritative tone.
Tarla squeaked in surprise. She burst into a short run and lunged onto the bed.
The joy of being smothered in a group hug caused me to chuckle happily. When our arms parted, I stole our daughter. Mom and Dad left their chairs at our dining table to join my bedside.
“Creator weapons… nasty stuff,” Dad said, pointing to the side of his head.
I saw a scar covering where his left ear should be. The black seam prevented his recovery for now, and he winced instinctively from touching it.
“What - what - what happened?” I asked.
“Elva assassins came from high above, as in they flew giant eagles and used gliders to land in our keep. They wore cloaks that hid their appearance, and it helped them land unnoticed. We found four dead from impact around the city, their gliders failing them. Another four fought to the death,” Tarla said.
Mom said, “A dagger neared us mid job on the gate. We dove out of the way, but the damn thing tracked your father. He put a stone in front of his face, saving himself.”
The pride in her voice made dad blush. “I’ll need that Bell lady to fix my ear before we go.”
“Uh, what?” I asked in shock. “Go where?”
“I’m no warrior, son. The assassin thought I was you. The hatred engraved on his face… it bothers me. Your guards weren’t able to react to a ghost assassin before he could attack. Sure, they killed him after, but only after,” Dad said and handed me a note.
I read the lines quickly, noticing Maggie had instantly fallen asleep now that I held her.
“You will seek refuge in the Jeer Coalition for a short time, hopping cities until you find a portal to a new city needing a champion. But my dreams of taming mountains full of dragons,” I said with a slight whine. “Ignore that. Sorry. Dad, Mom, I would be blessed if you found a safe place to live a happy life. Once you do, and if things settle down, I would love to visit.”
“They are offering protection and an escort for ten thousand Zorta. Which…” Mom hesitated.
Tarla handed her a single orb, and I was starting to see this was all decided already. My waking was merely the next step in the process.
A knock on the door came with the person opening it without consent. A moment later, I saw Bell who twirled her hair playfully.
“I have recharged my divine magic. First the King, then your ear,” Bell said, walking to my bedside.
Bell flung back the covers and said, “Chilly out.”
“My wound is up here,” I said, pointing to my chest and handing Maggie to Tarla.
Bell giggled with a smirking headshake. She delicately placed a hand on my chest. Golden light coated each of her fingers, and the magic attacked the nasty scar. I watched in dismay as she fixed the damage one fleck at a time.
Tiny parts of the scar lifted and turned to ash, eviscerated by divine magic.
“You grow stronger,” I said.
“I leveled up a few times just healing your cheek.” She winked and turned to Dad. “Alright, handsome man who looks like Damien.”
“You have no shame,” Mom said with an eye roll.
Bell chuckled and replied, “I’m a head priestess of a goddess with the title of temptress. Just be happy I’m fully clothed.” She touched my father’s ear, applying magic along the scar. When she finished she glanced at me. “Heal him, and it’ll grow back now. I’ll be in the throne room if you need me.”
Bell left, and we had an awkward silence after I repaired my father’s ear.
I tried to convince my parents to stay while they insisted they depart. The next hour consisted of fond goodbyes, promises we’d both likely break, and a grandmother sobbing while holding her angry granddaughter.
A knock on the door interrupted our time. My parents said one final goodbye before leaving.
“Meeting time, your Grace,” Ike said.
“Bell must have told them you were back with the living. You missed almost a full day,” Tarla said.
“Any changes?” I asked while I exited the bed.
I slipped on a new set of blue and gold robes with no armor. I sighed at the thought of wearing plate metal and chainmail again. I probably should gear into armor every time I left my room. I also probably should wear armor while I slept too, but I just couldn’t live in fear that way and I had to draw a line somewhere.
“Plenty, but they will cover them in your briefing. The portals opened, but I’m going to rule as queen,” Tarla said. “Assuming you use one or go to Jeer.”
“Wait, if I go to trade you want to stay home?” I asked.
She nodded, and I huffed in surprise. I lowered my raised eyebrows and kissed the lovely duo.
“My goal isn’t to be the hero while you stay at home,” I said.
“I cannot control the dead. Honestly, if you went into the island jungle with your ogres it would have saved me days of effort,” Tarla said, biting a nail nervously.
“You okay?” I asked.
She shook her head. “They tried to kill Maggie. I burned the assassin to a crisp and figured Maggie would forgive me later. She didn’t take any damage. A baby’s magic protecting them on instinct can happen at times, but it is rare. I would ask Nick, but...” She sighed.
“Thank you, Tarla. You saved your family, and I couldn’t be prouder. Why don’t you come with me?” I asked.
“Nope. We’ve bonded again, and I can afford a few days off. If assassins come, I go into phoenix and burn them to ash,” she said in a sassy way that made me grin proudly. “Go take care of the million problems that need your attention. I will sort the rest when you are gone.”
“I love you,” I said.
“
Hey, Damien, will you marry me?” Tarla asked.
This caught me off guard. I had the door half open and closed it.
I sat down beside my lovely fire mage. Her brown eyes sparkled with love, not angst. She sang softly to our little girl and it was one of those moments you knew would give you strength in a dire situation.
“Yes.” I sealed my fate and Tarla scorched my untamed heart. To be fair, she had won it over a while ago.
“I figured you were ready. Not that saving your life for a change is the catalyst, I just… Your parents are free -”
“Oh shit,” I blurted. “When?”
“We’re married now that you said yes. Nee is the overseer who assigns a minion to stamp approval or dissolve marriages. Lady Clare said she was leaving, and her wish was for me to grow the courage to ask,” Tarla said.
“What is the tradition here, and what does our marriage mean?” I asked. “Or how does it change things?”
“A few ways. A couple decides to get married by asking, just like I did. Normally, it is the man who asks first. The other is arranged. My father tried a few times, but I rejected his attempts to convince me. There are some kinky ways, but people are weird.
“As for what it means, we are committed to each other. It’ll slow other suitors for your hand. For example, a few female trolls with standing showed up asking for an audience with the single king and offering to pay for a date. That will happen less,” Tarla said.
“Less, but I don’t want a second wife,” I said.
Tarla snorted. “Right.”
“So, no expensive ceremony or celebration?” I asked.
“We can if we choose to. A ball is probably a good idea before the doom and gloom, but we don’t have to. You’re a king, Damien. You are the power of the realm you command. I’m now your Queen in more than name,” Tarla said.
“I love you, Tarla Moonguard,” I said, planting a fierce kiss to her lips. “I will try to go tell Mom.”
“Don’t, please. Let them go, Damien. Your father’s life depends on it. If they stay for a feast and assassins strike… Well, let’s have a celebration wherever they end up. Now, enjoy your meeting. We’re taking a nap. We had a rough night,” Tarla said.
I adjusted the covers until the duo was snug in bed then left for the throne room. Ike waited for me in the hallway. He wore robes of a noble instead of armor. Though, his fine outfit did have a sword strapped to his hip.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Eh, it's not good, but it could be worse,” Ike replied.
The hallway was littered with live hounds lazing on comfy pillows stuffed with duck feathers. A few got up to sniff us as we walked by them.
“How are they going to know friend from foe?” I asked.
“They’re pretty docile, however, they’re dogs. They will hear and smell someone approaching that a guard cannot see. They may not know you yet, but they will, and they will cue in on an intruder. No getting by them without them noticing. They aren’t here to stop the threat, only bring an alert,” Ike said.
A dozen guards sat on chairs, all of them white haired individuals. Rotating guards paced the hall, and I had to assume the next set of assassins would be detected with all the additional protections put in place.
“And what makes this morning so sour?” I asked.
“Carlina was murdered,” Ike said.
“Interesting, by whom?” I asked.
“Unknown, the Duke sent a message. Everyone you spoke to and spared is dead, including the priest in the church, and the madam in the keep,” Ike said.
I frowned, mulling over the results. This wasn’t a disaster or really even that bad. I took a risk and lost. If the Duke turned on his own church, that wasn’t my fault, and I had to assume it didn’t change my deal.
“Well, that’s bad. Not the worst, but bad. I guess it makes sense in a way. Kill all the loose ends, and it robs me of any help I might have gained. They might have figured out my ploy,” I said.
“What ploy?” Ike asked. “Ah, you had a plan they ruined. Not shocked. We would do the same if an enemy raided and talked to specific people. Well, at least isolate them.”
“Right, right. Actually, I bet it was a blanket order. Damn, I wanted her dragon too,” I said with a sigh.
“Dragon?” Ike said.
“Carlina and Demova were plants. Carlina was a minion, and I think that would have meant her dragon would have loyalty to us. They’re dead now and my plans foiled. I have to expect my enemy to have a brain, and in this case they did. Oh well. What other bad news?” I asked.
“Additional regional forces are leaving their holds, cities, and castles to join the assembling army to our south. The Garo Region is mostly unified in removing us,” Ike said.
I grunted unhappily, striding into the war room. The back of the room held a crude wooden map board. Guards stoically stood at the two entrances, and bright magical light illuminated the space.
Seated at the table was Asha, Fernando, Famo, Maron, Jenovene, Nee, Yermica, Cecil, Jorma, and Serina. Not every race was present, but a good representation waited for my arrival.
A guard pulled my throne-like chair back, and I plopped down. A stack of reports waited neatly in front of me.
“Summary,” I said.
Nee said, “Refugees are being turned back from the Podoni Empire, fishing is slowing due to hostile waters, and the trade fairs I had planned outside the city have been canceled.”
“The portals opened. Both are common areas somewhere in Nordan with demarcation lines from the mists. Both of the portals we selected are not too far from Ostriva and Nordan cities. Leor scouted quickly and found possible trade options. They’re new areas with unknown politics,” Jorma said.
Cecil pointed to the papers. “The elva charged the gates at the time of the assassins’ attempts. I need to either remove raskers or you need to upgrade your necromancy, so I can raise the dead.”
“How many in the camp died?” I asked.
“All of them,” Asha said sadly. “They did as ordered apparently. Darri played us, and plays games with the high elva lives. This race… even the high elva struggle to reproduce and they couldn’t afford to lose that many of their kind.” Asha hung his head. “For nothing, they died for nothing.”
“What the hell were they thinking?” I asked.
“That they would never trade with us and those elva were doomed. Likely, and just a guess, they figured they would die during the siege no matter what. Using them as a distraction to help the assassin was considered a noble cause,” Asha said.
“How many?” I asked.
“5378, your Grace,” Jenovene said.
“You can upgrade now,” Cecil said.
Nee nodded. “Below the table.”
I opened a chest by my right foot. Colorful Zorta orbs sparkled in the dim light. I reached out with a connection spell.
You have connected to 250,000 Zorta. Consume or Drop - Consume selected
Confirm you wish to consume 250,000 Zorta (YES) - (NO) - Yes selected
Necromancer Level 10 -} Necromancer Level 11 = 90,000 Zorta. Confirm (YES) - (NO) - Yes selected.
Healer 16 -} Healer 17 = 15,500 Zorta. Confirm (YES) - (NO) - Yes selected.
Name: Damien Moonguard
Race: Human
Affiliation: Ostriva
Zorta: 171,787.001
Shared Zorta: 8,787.001
Nordan Score: 0
Ostriva Score: 1,553,774
Location: Moonguard City
Magic Type: Healer
Healer Level: 17
Magic Type 2: Necromancer
Necromancy Level: 11
Necromancer Minions: 21,000/25,000
Necromancer General Level: 8
Necromancer General Mana: 300/300
Shared Mana: 900
Necromancer General Permissions: All
Fighting Level: Honed
Mana: 800/800
Mana Recharge: 14
Str
ength: 15
Stamina: 15
Dexterity: 15
Constitution: 18
Willpower: 18
Cultivation: 40
Intelligence: 40
Wisdom: 40
Charisma: 30
Tracking: 13
Endurance: 15
Perception: 21
Burst: 15
Reflex: 15
Healing: 15
Melee Combat: 15
Aim: 6
Hunger: 1
Thirst: 1
Aging: 59 years until death.
“I just tried to go to level twelve necromancer and it denied me. I have room for four thousand new recruits, less than I expected. Quite unfortunate. Cecil, go raise the dead, and I will try to level again once my minion count reaches full,” I ordered.
Cecil excused himself to carry out my orders.
“What is the plan with the returning humans who fled our walls?” I asked.
“They are camped outside of the north gate. There are grumblings that you’re rude for not letting them back in,” Jenovene said.
“They don’t want to be here,” I said. “They leave with the understanding that they’re not coming back.”
“That doesn’t make them any less human or in need of basic care,” Ike said.
I nodded and gazed at Jenovene, “Let them in, give them an ultimatum though. Something beneficial to us, I’ll have to trust your judgment.”
“Thank you, I will see to it this moment,” Jenovene said and exited the meeting.
I turned to Famo. “It’s been a while.”
“It has,” the dwarf said in a gruff tone. “I should be workin’.”
“Are your requests in here?” I asked, jabbing a finger at the pile of papers. He nodded. “Get back to work then.”
Famo smirked, scooted his chair back loudly, and then left.
“Hey Famo! Only come to meetings I personally invite you to. Send a lackey, though, going forward,” I shouted, and he grunted in reply.
When his footsteps faded, I asked, “What’s the Podoni Empire doing?”
“They have a small army posturing. My guess, and just a guess, they’re readying to give a half-hearted effort to the siege and protecting their holdings until then. No word for peace or offering for the nobles we have captured has arrived,” Ike said.