by D. H. Aire
The mage casually rode closer to the tent, two moths fluttered around the tent, seeking some way to edge or glimpse inside.
‘He’s making his move,’ Revit said over their link.
“He hasn’t tried to send a message, though,” Terus replied as Ri jostled his arm.
“Did you see that?”
“What?” Terus asked.
“There was something odd about his throat.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t know. There’s just something odd about his throat…”
Revit’s voice came over the comm, ‘The tent’s opening… oh.’
‘Close your mouth, Revit,’ Aliana ordered.
Terus turned the floating mirror, so it faced the tent and… “Oh.”
Ri muttered, “What? Terus, don’t stare!”
#
“Lady Farrel, are you all right?”
“Uh, I’m fine, Janielle,” she said, blinking hard, finding herself seated at the long dining table with Lord Tane’s family. She leaned over and rubbed her ankle. “Just fine.”
Lord Rathian ordered another statue moved to the center of the hall, where, moments later, it was smashed to loud applause. Lord Tane signaled for the musicians to play and the dancing began as dwarves brought platters of food to the High Table, then to the others filled with the members of the Provincial Court.
#
Of the many ships moored in Tane Harbor unable to either move down the locks to the ocean far below or up river by order of Lord Tane, one crew only played their roles. The Haydenese mages aboard projected illusions to disguise what they were really doing… which was more than spying on the city.
The scryer below deck looked up, “They haven’t a clue how bad it is.”
“Good,” the mage priest to the Demonlord said as he sharpened his knife. “Another sacrifice should help us maintain the surprise.”
“We only have two left.”
“That should be enough… Once our troops hit the docks, we’ll have plenty of potential sacrifices to choose from.”
#
“Ethran,” the old tracker half-whispered as the last of his men armed themselves and donned the enchanted mail and livery with an older Tanish sigil. “At least we’ll be able to tell ourselves apart from the other Tanes.”
“Ha ha,” Captain Seawarden replied. “As long as we can get to Lady Janielle, I don’t care what livery we wear.”
“Sir!” one of the men called out.
Seawarden turned and saw their battle steed guide vanish. He blinked. “Where did that door come from?”
The Haydenese glanced at where a rack of weapons had been at the end of the aisle a moment before.
The tracker sniffed, “The air is no longer as musty as it was.”
Seawarden gestured.
They all began to gather, weapons at the ready.
Moments later, the tracker opened the door and peered out, allowing in an orangish light. He closed the door and faced them. “Uh, Captain, we’re at the top of one of the palace towers.”
“At the top?” Seawarden muttered.
The tracker nodded. “There’s a window. Its sunset and the spiral stairs are fairly wide.”
The captain looked at his men, “We have until midnight before Kolter’s army begins assaulting this place.”
#
‘Lord Je’orj, the Riani mage has just seen Lawson’s, um, detachment and is heading toward you.’
Upon his battle steed, George drew his staff from its saddle straps. Se’and’s mount matching his mount's every movement.
“Raven, it looks like we’ve got company coming.”
The black crested falc banked, then arrowed in behind the Riani mage, who cast another charm, which, instead of turning into a moth, took on a much more lethal aspect, if you could even see the tiny creature.
Staff could focus and see that aspect as the warders closed in on the spy.
‘I’ve got a lock on that charm,’ Ri announced.
‘I’ve set a ward mine in front of our new friend,’ Revit said.
:Take them out,: Staff ordered.
The mage’s mount stepped across the ground just as it faintly glowed. The horse stopped cold, mid-motion, the mage was caught by surprise and jostled forward in his saddle. That was just enough to be trapped in the field as well.
The charm insect was intercepted by Ri’s ward which appeared just ahead of it as it closed on the inner circle of the legion’s leadership. Zap.
‘Good shot, Ri,’ Aliana said.
#
“What’s going on?” Lord Rian rasped.
His priest went pale.
“Is there something you’d care to tell us?” George asked.
“Grinyal?” Lord Rian murmured.
“There’s been a misunderstanding,” the priest said. “If you’d please free the mage here, I’ll offer surety for good behavior.”
“Misunderstanding?” George muttered.
“Surety?” Thomi said, as he and Walsh reached them.
The two warders came up behind the mounted mage, “Milord?”
“I’m not in a particularly understanding mood,” George said.
“Try anything and you’ll regret it,” one of the gravelly voiced warders said.
“Uh, please, Highmage,” Grinyal urged.
“Release your warding,” George said.
The immobilized horse’s eyes went wide as its whole body trembled as the ward that held it deactivated. The Riani mage rasped, “Highmage?”
The priest nodded, “I neglected to mention that to you since the knowledge of his presence here is, well, secret.”
“Oh, my, then…” the Riani mage muttered, glancing back at the half-naked ghosts, glowing in the growing darkness of the night. The mage was not the only one staring. The entire legion seemed to be staring. “That’s not what it looks like.”
“Looks like?” Thomi said as Walsh blocked his view, knowing Lady Amira would be far happier this way.
“They look like the legendary Cathartans who led the Fifth Legion to its death.”
George glanced at Se’and, “I’m not familiar with that particular legend.”
The priest swallowed, “It is not a legend. The goblins invaded the Northlands four centuries ago and the Fifth Legion moved to prevent the loss of two legions that were surrounded. They were harassed by a black dragon, and would have failed had not the foreigners the Highmage had sent for, not joined in the fray.”
“The foreigners?” Se’and muttered.
“The Kyrian Cathartans… who led them to their deaths,” the Riani mage said, “and who legend says will lead the Fifth Legion into worse again one day.”
George did not look at Se’and. He did not have to.
Lord Rian asked, “So, you thought, what? The Fifth Legion is being threatened by these mages and their friends?”
The Riani mage looked down.
The priest answered, “Apparently, that you were.”
“Me?” Lord Rian rasped.
The priest swallowed, “I’ve kept a lot of people’s secrets, old friend.”
The Riani mage nodded, “I’ve been watching out for you for quite some time, Milord.”
The Rian shook his head, “You have? Why?”
One of the warders stepped forward, “It’s not possible… You’re dead.”
“What?” the mage answered.
“What?” Lord Rian said.
The warder lifted his right hand, which cast a glow on the mage’s face. “Momma…” Ri gasped.
“What?” the mage rasped.
Lord Rian gaped, staring at a face he never thought to see again. “By the Gate, you’re alive!”
The warder hugged the astonished mage.
The priest nodded, “It’s true…”
“Ri?” her mother muttered, uncertain.
#
George glanced at Se’and as Raven dove back flapping her wide pale feathered wings. Settling in front of them, Raven s
himmered, changing to beast form and laid down at George’s feet.
“Thomi, be so good as to signal General Winterhil,” George said as his young friend and his everpresent ogre bodyguard approached.
“Yessir,” the Lord of Niota replied, “now the fun begins…”
“Do not get cocky,” Se’and warned.
Walsh looked at his charge and clapped him on his back, Thomi’s knees threatened to buckle. “Uh, I won’t, Milady.”
George nodded, and gestured, “Send that signal, my friend.”
Thomi and Walsh hurried off.
Se’and glanced at George, “Do not get any fool ideas into your head, Je’orj.”
“Who, me?”
“Lawson’s ghosts are bad enough. You will stay close to Raven and me… and Thomi and Walsh for that matter.”
“You consider Thomi a bodyguard?”
“No,” Se’and replied. “I consider our ogre friend one and would like to make certain Thomi doesn’t get himself into too much trouble during the attack.”
George grinned, the computer staff beginning to glow as he linked to the small node below ground.
Beep?
:Prepare for new orders,: stated Staff.
“It could be worse, I guess,” George admitted. “You could dress up as a ghost, too.”
“Right,” she said, nodding, “and don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking at Lawson’s well armed brides.”
“My dear, I’ve the most well armed brides I could want.”
“I’ll be certain to share that with Cle’or.”
Chapter 45 - Games
Kolter grinned. “They’ve underestimated me.”
The Senior Scryer blanched. “Milord, I did not realize you were accompanying the troops.”
With a chuckle, Kolter nodded, “I felt it best to ward myself. We wouldn’t want to give Winterhil any ideas, now, would we?”
The old scryer swallowed hard, “That is very wise.”
“Are my troops and mages in position?”
“As you ordered, Milord,” he replied. “We’ve ten thousand troops poised to attack at midnight.”
“And Winterhil has no idea I’ve practically stripped our northern border,” Kolter said, smiling broadly, “or that by dawn the majority of my troops will have left with Tane in my hands and be on their way to the Capital.”
The scryer tried not to wince, knowing his life hung by the merest thread of the archmage’s humor.
#
The southern section of the River Aqwaine had flowed in main channel for millennia. It carried cargoes north and south and its tributaries fed the central farmlands to the east and west. The most magnificent part of the river system was the locks from the upper harbor of Tane, down the southern escarpment, section by section. Towns grew at each terraced step of the locks, providing crop land and luxurious gardens for the wealthiest of Tane’s provincial families.
Of course, those who worked the locks and terraces were rather short. Normally, even at night, teams of dwarves would be maintaining the locks, allowing ships to both ascend and descend the system.
Traffic, however, had been curtailed by order of Lord Tane. Among the lord’s other orders was a strict curfew of all non-essential dwarven workers. Grandmother Maj knew it was time to do the unthinkable, she sent word, “He calls you to your Vow.”
If she were wrong, she and every member of her family were to die, not at Lord Tane’s hands, but at her people’s.
#
Beep?
Y/N
:George, really?:
“Yes, really,” he muttered back.
:It’s a children’s toy.:
“The largest toy I’ve every heard of,” George responded.
Y/N
:Yes.:
:George, that’s quite a Menu.:
He blinked, knowing the attack had begun. He could see the Menu, and grinned, “Go to multi-player game!”
#
“Aaprin,” the warder said, leaning close. “Something weird’s going on.”
Gallen glanced at him as they stood on Bastian’s parapet, staring at du Blain’s besieging army with its scores of catapults facing them. The parley had come with Fenn’s demand that they surrender Bastian by dawn.
“Rexil, really?”
“We’re being asked to play some kind of game.”
Gallen frowned, “Go ahead; what could it hurt?”
#
“What do you mean, you’ve been invited to play a game?” the Empress said to her warder.
The old prelate burst into the Empress’s study and rasped, “Play it!”
The warder went still.
“What’s going on?” the Empress demanded as Lonny frowned.
The wall opened and the ogress peered out, “Melvyn, what have you done?”
“Since when do I have a hidden door there?” the Empress cried.
“Hope you like it, we’ve a bunch your mother never knew about,” Mallory replied. “Melvyn?”
“George has accessed the game module her ancestress commandeered without a by-your-leave,” he answered.
“McQuin always had a sense of humor.”
The Empress looked less than pleased. “What’s going on?”
The warder writhed.
Melvyn peered into its cowl. “Oh, my, they’re a relay.”
Terhun burst past the guards at the door and entered, “What’s this about a relay? What’s going on?”
Lonny shook her head, “Do you feel that?”
“Feel what?” Terhun muttered.
There was suddenly a bemused look on the Empress’s face. “Oh.” Her eyes widened, “Je’orj!”
The warder stopped shaking. “Hi, dear.”
“Je’orj, what have you done?”
“Oh, we’re only getting started.”
“Started?”
Terhun rasped, “Where are you?”
“Attacking the Haydenese army.”
“What? You don’t have enough men!”
“I’ve got the Fifth Legion… and Lord Rian sends his humble regards. They’re a wedding gift.”
“What?”
“Excuse me, the game’s afoot…”
#
Kolter’s army had reached a point just outside the city of Tane’s nearsighted scrying distance. The general smiled and gauged the time.
His troops complained that they could light no fires this night. “Let’s not give enemy eyes anything to see,” he had answered after having a score executed for their temerity and as a private offering of blood to the Dark Lord.
He grinned, “Soon. Soon, Milord Kolter. Our Master shall be pleased.”
#
Tett was careful not to look in Lady Farrel’s direction as he carried platters of food across the hall. Spiro saw Renara glaring at him. He smiled back at her. When next they headed to the kitchen she murmured, “Are you trying to get us killed?”
“Who, me?”
Lord Tane laughed and another statue was shattered.
Spiro grabbed up another platter, “That was too close.”
Renara hurried right behind him and went pale. Much too close.
#
Farrel frowned, seeing Tett and Spiro serving as the band played and Lady Janielle was urged to dance with her cousin, Rathian. The dancers kicked up small pieces of stone and pulverized dust.
“You should go and dance, too, Lady Farrel,” Lord Tane said.
“I really don’t.”
“There are many eligible bachelors here… Samil, there, he’s rather dashing, isn’t he? He’s an estate of the fourth level terrace, great place for those lovely war horses of yours. It offers a lovely view and is close to the palace. Janielle will love having a friend living so close.”
Farrel shook her head, “Sounds lovely, but I’ve other plans outside the Empire.”
He frowned, “I really w
ish you would reconsider. That stallion of yours would make quite the stud for my prize herd.”
Somehow she did not think he was really talking about her stallion. Suddenly she felt a tingling at her ankle. She looked away from Lord Tane as Spiro poured him more wine. She coughed, “Game?”
Spiro spilled the wine he was now pouring in her glass as Lord Tane rose as the music ended. He gestured imperiously, signaling another statue to be destroyed… the next in line, a statue of an elf in the livery with the ancient sigil of Tane.
#
Kolter’s Haydenese army lay camped in the near dark. No campfires burned and the moon provided just enough light to see by. “Lawson, if this gets me killed, I’m going to kill you,” Re’ut said, holding four arrows in her hand, knees across his right hip and held in place by a wide Legionnaire belt intertwined with the one Lawson wore.
“Not if I kill him first,” Le’ann said, her flushed face hardly visible, unmarred by the glowing substance across her breasts, arms, back and hair, as she was held, belted, on his left, similarly.
“Now, now,” he replied, “you don’t want Yel’ane, here, to get jittery.”
“Right, you don’t want to get me, uh, any more jittery than I already am,” Yel’ane said, holding the battle steed’s reins close to her bared and glowing chest.
“Those quivers close enough at hand?” Lawson asked as Re’ut and Le’ann glared at him, their faces looking like glowing skulls and their hair streaked with the iridescent substance, as well.
“What you staring at?” Le’ann shouted at the nearest Legionnaires as the other half-naked Cathartans on battle steeds pulled up in the line, their skin glowing, making them look mostly like faceless, almost skeletal riders, with glowing breasts.
“Um, nothing, Milady.”
She nodded. “That’s better. Now, when are we getting this over with?”
“We’re just awaiting the signal,” Lawson said, feeling uncomfortably close to the two bodyguard archers on either side of him.
“What signal?” Yel’ane asked, sitting in front of him in the saddle, having held the steed's reins close to her chest, suddenly lowering them, half turning to face him.
“We’ll know it when we see it.”
Her cheek twitched. “Better make sure that your quiver is full.”
That comment earned her stares from more than the Cathartan archers.
“What?” she asked, uncertainly.