***
When their council was finished, or, more accurately, they’d grown too weary for much more, King Glahlan showed Kyrn to his chambers. He was exhausted, nearly as much as when he’d first laid in his elven bed. Still, he didn’t drift easily into sleep as he’d done his first night within Castrolyl.
He spent most of the night sitting on the edge of the bed, leafing through the pages of the Book of Ezroch. A majority of the tome was hand-written by Magmi, some he could tell was written by another, perhaps a scribe as Magmi relayed his tale. He’d found chapters upon chapters written in a language that he’d never seen. It’d not been elvish, he’d seen enough of the serpentine language through his stay within Castreeth. It was harsher, with thick, jagged lines clashing with each letter. It so closely resembled the dwarvish language that Iafi had taught Kyrn when he was younger, but it was different in a way Kyrn couldn’t quite decipher.
As Magmi had told him, there were nearly a thousand pages more that he’d not discussed with the wizard and the king of the forest; however, Kyrn reread the lore of the fallen king, of the Dark Wars, and, over again, of his mother.
***
Kyrn woke to a rap, rap at the door to his chamber. When he lifted his face, he found his cheek glued to a page of the Book of Ezroch with a small line of drool, and the page tore. He peeled the page from his face and patted it down, closing the book and sliding it beneath his pillow.
“Master Kyrn,” a muffled voice came from the other side of the door.
“Yes,” he mumbled. “Come in.”
The door opened quickly, and Brailen stood before him. He looked heavenly to Kyrn, his deep-golden braids falling to either side of the perfect skin of his face. “Sorry to wake you,” he said, “but King Glahlan expects you.”
Kyrn rose from bed and dressed himself. As he did, Brailen walked behind him and fixed his half-elven hair.
“Master Kyrn,” Brailen said. “A question, if I may.”
Kyrn nodded.
“Have you known?” he asked. “I mean, in your heart. That you’re an elf?”
Kyrn shook his head. “I still don’t fully believe it,” he said. “About as much as anyone else here.”
“What do you mean, Master Kyrn?”
“I saw how King Glahlan looked at me,” Kyrn said. “‘Half-elf,’ he said to me. He made that entirely clear.”
Brailen knelt beside Kyrn, grasping him firmly by the shoulders. “You are Kyrn Fellenor, sure,” he started. “But, at heart, you are Kyrn Ezroch, great-grandson of the fallen king Mayhlan Ezroch.” He looked over his shoulder at the empty doorway of Kyrn’s chambers. “The true king of Castreeth.”
Kyrn only stared dumbly at Brailen.
The golden-haired elf laughed. “Keep that between us, will you?”
Kyrn stuttered, “Of course, Brailen. Though, I don’t feel that’s the way things work any longer.”
“No,” Brailen agreed. “Those times have long passed. Now, come.”
***
Brailen led Kyrn outside the castle of Castreeth. It was the first time he’d been back within the city since he’d entered with Syonne.
“Where are we going?” Kyrn asked. “I’m not sure if I can handle more dark talks.”
Brailen laughed with a heavy sympathy. “There will be none of that. At least, not what you have been experiencing as of late.” He lowered himself to Kyrn’s height and pointed into the distance, over the wooden buildings lining the streets.
As Kyrn followed his direction, he saw a large building sitting upon a small hill. The roof was dome-shaped, formed from the intertwining of thick vines.
“King’s Justice,” Braided said. “In common tongue.”
“Syonne’s trial?” Kyrn gasped. He felt his heart sink, seeing Brailen nod. “What will happen to her?”
“It is not a long process.” Brailen tried to comfort Kyrn. “Her master will speak her accusations, and, not least, her deemed punishments.” He tightened his posture as they passed a handful of Castrolyl guards. “The council will then sentence her to what they deem necessary, though, they are usually in agreeance with the elleinor’s master.”
“Do you know Syonne’s master?” Kyrn asked quickly, hoping they could find a way around the trial.
“Of course,” Brailen laughed. “He is not known for his mercy, especially not with the elleinor.”
***
Brailen seated Kyrn beside Magmi and left him with a gentle pat on his back. All Kyrn could see around him, seated in a semi-circle, was a sea of elves seated as they were. An arrangement of clean, braided hair, golds, mahoganies, and ebonies. Some of the elves were decorated with orange and yellow leaves holding their braids in place. Kyrn let his fingers fall through his hair, feeling the tightly wound braids of his own.
Magmi watched as he did so. He said, “Don’t worry, young Kyrn. You’re not the one they’re here to judge.”
“That’s what’s worrying me,” he whispered.
In front of the half-circle of elves, Magmi and Kyrn included, Syonne sat upon a pedestal of intertwining branches to match the roof of King’s Justice. Beneath her cerulean legs, she sat upon a small bed of leaves, orange as the podling sprouts in the right light. Another half-circle formed behind her, facing Kyrn, Magmi, and the elves around them. Though, this circle only seated four. The seats were all occupied. They were the oldest elves Kyrn had come to see in Castrolyl, yet they still looked younger even than his greying father.
One of the elves of the council stood from his seat. “Fellow elves of Castreeth,” he began. “Let us begin with a brief prayer to our fallen king of old.”
With a loud shuffling, the elves around Kyrn lowered their heads at once. Kyrn glanced back and forth, and, seeing Magmi lower his head with the others, he did the same. He heard the elf standing before Syonne continue:
Fallen king of old
keep us in your home to hold.
Gracious lives to mend the lost
Build the land before, any cost
By the Old King and the New
May the Forest of Castrolyl be born anew
“May the forest of Castrolyl be born anew,” chanted every head in the room in an echoing chorus.
“It is strange to hear the passage spoken in common tongue,” Magmi said to Kyrn.
“Why not speak elvish?”
“Because you’re in their presence, Master Kyrn,” Magmi said.
Kyrn watched the elf take his place in his council chair. “We will now hear from the elleinor’s master,” he said. “King Glahlan Ezroch.”
A few of the elves seated in front of Kyrn turned briefly, hearing him gasp. “She’s the king’s elleinor?” he whispered to Magmi.
He gave Kyrn a forced smile and turned back to the center of the room.
It doesn’t matter what the council thinks, Kyrn thought to himself. Surely, they wouldn’t disagree with the king of the forest.
King Glahlan stepped into King’s Justice from a side door behind the seated council members. He walked past them with nothing more than a quick nod and paced closely before Syonne.
Kyrn watched the elleinor. She kept her eyes down to her hands, not looking at the crowd gathered, or her master at her side. In a sense, it disturbed Kyrn more than seeing her shackled to Skinny’s cellar wall.
“My people,” the king began. “Before us, we have an elleinor that has done great deeds for our new Castreeth for a handful of centuries.” King Glahlan gazed upon the people seated before him as he walked in front of the council. “Though her great deeds have, to my complete dissatisfaction, been outweighed heavily by those which put us in great peril.”
Kyrn winced as the king’s eye fell directly upon him.
“Falling into the hands of those outside our realm.”
Kyrn’s face reddened, he could feel the heat burning through his cheeks as many of the elven members of Castrolyl turned to where he sat.
King Glahlan cleared his throat, turning the attention of th
e wanderers back to him. “Like many elleinor who have threatened our city before her,” he continued, “the only punishment worthy of her treachery is to be released back into the soils from which she was sprouted, born anew in the forest of Castrolyl.”
Kyrn tugged at Magmi’s tattered, brown sleeve. “What does that mean?” Kyrn asked. “Back into the soil.”
Magmi looked down at Kyrn. A deep sorrow lowered his pointed brows. “Death,” he said.
Kyrn shot from his seat, and he felt tall amongst the seated crowd. “You can’t!” he spat out before he had time to realize what he was doing. “Syonne saved me. She brought me here. Surely that must account for something.”
King Glahlan raised his hands to quiet the rowdy crowd. When they were, he said, “Of course it does, Master Kyrn. We desperately need you in times such as these.”
Kyrn could see in the thinness of the king’s eyes that his late talks with the king of the forest and Magmi the great were not knowledge yet known to those within Castreeth.
“And I am eternally grateful of the elleinor’s bringing you here,” King Glahlan continued. “Though, we know well our places with our new Castreeth. Syonne knows hers, and she has overstepped her bounds. The laws will not be changed for any individual.”
Kyrn looked around the room, so many eyes still fixed on him, waiting for what would come next. Behind the council, mounted upon the wall, was the king’s glaive. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it when he entered the room. He felt a flutter of hope when his eyes landed upon the weapon. The feeling swept away with a burning jealousy deep within his gut. They’d taken the glaive from him, the only item that hadn’t been left within his chambers. Now that it was free from the crystal, it was at their disposal.
“Release her,” Kyrn continued. “Exile her if you must, but allow her to aid me once more. She will come with me, no longer a burden to you or the laws of Castreeth.” Kyrn felt Magmi tug at his shirt, and he swatted the old wizard’s hand away.
“Your heart is strong, Master Kyrn,” King Glahlan said. “Though, I fear I cannot accept your terms, or I would be breaking the laws of Castreeth myself.”
Kyrn had had enough. His body itched with the anger that filled him. At his sides, he clenched his fists until he could feel his trimmed nails digging into his palms. He wouldn’t let Syonne be executed. He gripped the banister before him, ready to leap the row of elves in front of him and make for the king’s glaive.
Before he could get his feet off the ground, a cluster of crippling howls flooded the streets outside. He could feel the yells penetrate to his bone, and he felt the numbness flood through his body.
King Glahlan dropped to his knees, unable to fight the paralyzing howls.
The crowd began whispering in hushed voices, though their voices filled the chamber as they spoke at once.
“Draelor,” Kyrn gasped to Magmi at his side. He helped the wizard rise to his feet.
“Then you have met them before?” Magmi asked, sighing as Kyrn nodded.
“Get the elves to safety, if you can.” Before Magmi could protest, Kyrn leaped over the row of elves between him and Syonne. For the first time since they’d been inside King’s Justice, Syonne looked at him, her eyes wide with fear. Kyrn broke eye contact with her when he heard a low rumble.
King Glahlan was laughing at his knees, beside Syonne’s pedestal. “May the forest of Castrolyl be born anew,” he growled. From his gold-embroidered robe, the king removed his hand and held it high above his head. Blinding lights of blues and purples shot throughout the room. Kyrn saw the last thing he’d have hoped for, the bane of Ezroch etched into a diamond shaped stone above the king’s head. The Stone of Ezroch, he thought.
He did not hesitate.
Kyrn leaped up a stair and, as he quickly rushed past Syonne, he shouldered her pedestal, toppling it over. He knew it would shake her from her fears, forcing her into action.
She fluttered her wings to keep from hitting the ground, hovering in awe of Kyrn’s quick movements.
The four elven council members, now on their feet, did nothing to halt Kyrn as he bounded past them, snatching the king’s glaive from its unfitting hooks. In his grasp, the etchings began to light, and he could feel his blood coursing with them. He turned and thrust the glaive, hard as he could, knocking the stone from King Glahlan’s hand.
The king of the forest fell forward with a pain-filled humph, clutching his hand.
It was too late.
Between Kyrn and the king, he saw what he had weeks back in Grimmrich. The air before them caught light in strange ways, as if it were reflecting off floating dust. As it did, the waves became more illuminated, until they formed what seemed the same mirror-like circle that sat in the center of Grimmrich’s town square. A thin, dark green hand crept through the shimming light, slowly at first, and crawled its way from the portal.
That explains the raid, Kyrn thought, seeing a sole goblin exit from the mirror. Behind the foul creature, rows of goblins with thirsty teeth and hungering swords fell through, one after the other.
The council room became chaos. Many of the elves tried to flee in a panic, only causing more upheaval. Between the hurrying elves and the flooding goblins, there was no way in or out of King’s Justice.
Kyrn looked through the mess, hoping to catch a glimpse of Magmi. He couldn’t find him anywhere. Though, high above the mass of shuffling heads, Syonne floated, spinning slowly around the room.
She stopped when she caught Kyrn’s hazel eyes.
“The stone!” Kyrn shouted.
She nodded and hurried through the air.
When Kyrn turned back to the portal, King Glahlan had skirted the mirror’s edge, crawling closer to Kyrn. His eyes were dark, teeth clenched as he spoke harshly through his hateful stare. “You’re too late,” he hissed.
“You can close the mirror,” Kyrn said quickly, not truly knowing what that meant. “You said we can’t let them find the stone.”
“Two pieces in the same room,” King Glahlan continued. He laughed as he saw Kyrn grip his necklace. “The Dark Lords told me I would know when the time was right.”
Kyrn held the king’s glaive tightly before him. He couldn’t strike down the king of the forest, though it was beginning to look like he’d have no other option. Around him, elven guards fought the goblins with ease, though they were heavily outnumbered. Kyrn saw Brailen fighting alongside Hairen, their backs against one another as they fended off the unending creatures.
A dark mass caught his eye.
From within the mirror, a large shadow could be seen through the rippling lights. Kyrn stepped slowly away from King Glahlan, slowly crawling towards him, as he studied the shadow. The dark mass’s metal gauntlet preceded the figure through the portal. Slowly, the figure took form as it stepped through, body hunched over to fit through the seemingly small mirror. When it was fully emerged, it straightened its back, and the scarab helm upon its head stood nearly four feet taller than Kyrn.
Grey like a winter wolf, Kyrn thought. It was a Black Knight, that he knew. He’d seen them in his dreams and visions. It seemed so much larger in person, though its face remained the same.
The opening was pure void. Nothingness.
Kyrn stood, frozen in place, as the Black Knight bent down, lifting King Glahlan by the back of his robes. “The Dark Lord admires your loyalty,” the armorer hissed deeply. While the king of the forest stared into the hollowness of the helm, the Black Knight flung King Glahlan across the chamber. His back slammed into the far wall, and King Glahlan slouched to the ground.
Kyrn didn’t waste time. As the Black Knight watched the king crash into the wall, Kyrn had already fallen into a sprinting slide beneath its legs of steel. When he came through, he pulled the king’s glaive through the neck of a goblin, creeping towards an elven couple. He stood before the goblin’s head rolled upon the ground. “Magmi!” he shouted. With no response, he kept moving through the crowded chambers. He kept his eyes on the Black Knight.
He’d surely not wanted to fight with the large demon, whatever it may be, but if it were to focus itself on any other, he would strike the Black Knight.
“I’ve got it!” came Syonne’s voice.
When Kyrn saw her hanging in the air, near to where he and Magmi had been seated, he couldn’t help but notice the guileless smile on her face. He also saw that the Black Knight had noticed, too. “Find Magmi!” he yelled to her.
Beside Kyrn, Brailen had begun filing the elves out the front doors of King’s Justice, Hairen cutting down any goblins to approach. Kyrn tugged at Brailen’s sleeve.
“Get them out,” Kyrn said, when the golden-haired elf looked down to him. “Finish off the goblins when you’re done.”
Brailen nodded and continued shouting in elvish.
The Black Knight slowly walked towards Syonne. He held a rectangular sword, large enough for a grown man to need both hands, in one of his metal gauntlets.
She flitted back and forth, looking for Magmi the Great, not noticing the approaching figure.
Before the Black Knight could get close enough to the elleinor to cut her down, a streak of blue dashed across his face, sparks flying from his helm as the king’s glaive nearly removed his head. He turned back to Kyrn, pivoting his body, but not slowing his movement.
Kyrn glanced left and right, looking for a way around the Black Knight. He’d have no hope without the king’s glaive, and already regretted heaving it at the dark soldier.
“Need a lift?” came a voice from behind.
Before Kyrn could turn around, he was already lifted from the ground, spinning in the air. He felt his limbs fall ragdoll-like.
The Black Knight raised his strangely-crafted sword as Kyrn flew overhead, nearly gutted by the weapon.
When Kyrn landed, he tucked and rolled best he could, but fell flat upon his back and slid on the ground. He raised his head to see the Black Knight turn back around. He saw Hairen, who’d obviously thrown Kyrn across the room, bring his long, curved sword down upon the Black Knight’s back.
A Flutter In The Night (Kyrn's Legacy Book 1) Page 16