But if it was an illusion, it was a very real one. So real that it had substance. Alexander’s mind wandered down that path of speculation, lost in a thousand what-ifs until he heard Ratagan curse. His mind snapped back to reality.
At this height, Blackstone Keep had just come into view, nothing more than a black protrusion on the edge of the world. Three bright points of fiery light trailing streamers of yellow and orange fell from the sky. They seemed to move very slowly at first, rapidly accelerating as they neared the world, causing the air itself to ripple and shimmer around them.
Alexander held his breath, waiting with a growing sense of dread for the falling stars to make impact. Trailing streamers that reached to the heavens, the three points of light hit Blackstone, one after the other. Each created a flash of light brighter than the sun. It was an odd sensation the see such power unleashed with no accompanying sound. The air seemed to condense and spread out from each impact, racing away in every direction at terrible speed. Smoke and fire rose into the sky, forming a cloud, black and hot.
Then the sound hit.
It was a crack like thunder, only infinitely louder. The wyverns flinched, barrel rolling into a dive, instinctually seeking the refuge of the trees below. Alexander focused his sight on Blackstone, trying to see the extent of the devastation, somehow thinking that if he looked long enough it might undo the damage, but finding that it only served to confirm his fears.
Blackstone Keep had been destroyed.
What had once been a great fortress, home to the wizards of old, was now a pile of broken and fused rubble blasted apart by a spell of such power that Alexander understood with perfect certainty why Mage Cedric had placed the weapon capable of such destruction in the last of the Bloodvaults. No one should possess such power. It was beyond reason to wield a thing capable of that much devastation. Alexander was equally certain that Rake would use it again just as quickly as he could.
New Ruatha would be his next target, and there was no power in the Seven Isles capable of withstanding such an attack. Once again, Alexander was in a race. Ratagan leveled his spooked wyvern and looked back to Alexander for guidance.
He pointed toward New Ruatha. “All possible speed!” he shouted over the wind.
His mind cleared of all what-ifs and speculation about his magic. He needed to focus on what he was going to do next. Malachi had said that Cedric could only use his falling-star spell once per day. Blackstone was about a day’s ride from New Ruatha. Alexander had to get to Rake before he was ready to strike again. Countless lives hung in the balance.
The weight of his duty pressed down on him … and he embraced it. So often before, Alexander had lamented his responsibility as Sovereign. Today, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Rake was a criminal who had just forfeited his life and Alexander meant to collect.
In truth, Blackstone had been destroyed by Shivini months ago. It had become nothing more than a cold, lifeless, hollowed-out mountain. A tomb for ancient magic and breathtaking treasure … and also for the Rangers that Erik had left to man the bridge.
The aerie at New Ruatha was a flurry of chaos, wyverns launching off the walls as others landed. Handlers were rushing about, working to clear returning wyverns from the yard while preparing others to launch. Ratagan followed a narrow, very fast descent to avoid the patrols. His wyvern dove through the chaos, breaking its fall with a frenzied series of wing beats and landing hard enough to knock Alexander’s wind out. He slipped to the ground, opening his Wizard’s Den with a gesture. Ratagan dismounted a moment later.
“Be ready, we’ll be leaving soon.”
Ratagan saluted grimly as he signaled to a nearby handler to bring food for his steed. Horst landed nearby.
“Jack, go figure out who’s in charge here and tell them we’ll be mounting a coordinated attack. I need them to prepare all available forces.”
“Will do,” Jack said, heading for the door.
Jataan followed him to the threshold of the Wizard’s Den, stopping precisely under the arch of the door, hands clasped easily behind his back.
Alexander went to his magic circle and sat down to meditate.
Moments later, his mind arrived in Erik’s encampment, west of Blackstone. The Rangers had sustained heavy damage from falling rocks. Alexander was relieved to see that Erik was alive. Nearly a thousand of his men couldn’t say the same. The landscape was pockmarked with impact craters, large and small. Where larger rocks had struck soldiers, there was often nothing more than a red-tinged hole in the ground.
Alexander appeared in front of Erik.
He looked exhausted and horrified at the destruction, but he was working to get his unit organized, identify his wounded, and mobilize the rest. He seemed startled when Alexander spoke.
“Alexander—” he said, his voice trailing off.
“I’m so sorry, Erik. You’ve suffered too much already. I know this is hard, but I need you to ride. How many men do you have?”
Erik blinked a few times, then looked around at his fallen, nodding absently.
“Erik—”
He seemed to snap back to the moment, taking a deep breath and facing Alexander squarely. “I have three thousand Rangers without injuries, but only half as many horses.”
“Prepare those who can fight to ride, keep the rest here to tend to the wounded. I’ll send help.”
“Thank you, Alexander.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
He released his illusion and floated above the ruin of the Keep. It was utterly devastated. All of the buildings that had encrusted the surface of Blackstone’s peak were crushed, broken beyond any hope of salvage. Where the falling stars had hit, fissures ran away from enormous craters, penetrating deep into the bowels of the mountain, one opening a hundred-foot hole that exited out one side of the mountain near the ground. Alexander passed into the Keep, searching the depths of the broken fortress. It was a shambles. Some corridors remained intact, but there were so many collapses and so much structural damage that physically traversing the interior would be nearly impossible and probably fatal.
He penetrated into the very foundation of the Keep and found the treasure room. It was caved in. Only the tiny domed vestibule just outside the door had withstood the collapse of the ceiling under countless tons of stone. At least it hadn’t been destroyed. He had hopes of using the wealth in Blackstone’s treasury to rebuild the Seven Isles. As for the rest of the place, it looked like a total loss.
He thought of Rake.
The thug was riding a mangy but powerful-looking horse. Two wizards rode beside him, one on either side, with several well-armed and armored men just behind them, all with colors that said they liked killing. Three wraithkin occasionally flashed into and out of existence as they kept up with the horses. Rake’s version of a royal guard, thugs, cutthroats and strong-arm criminals, rode in a cluster a hundred strong around him, and the remaining ten thousand formed a loose, undisciplined cluster around them all.
The sun was just setting, casting long shadows across a landscape torn apart by cataclysmic forces. Rake seemed inordinately pleased with himself … he also seemed determined to get somewhere. He was pressing his army to keep up with the cavalry and it was becoming strung out.
Alexander rose high into the sky, looking for the path that Rake’s army was marching. He expected it to lead straight toward New Ruatha, when in fact, it led directly toward the ruins of Old Ruatha, the capital city of the isle before the Reishi War, destroyed during the later years of Malachi Reishi’s reign.
Some said it was haunted, others said it was cursed … people took the stories seriously. Few ventured into the ruins, fewer still returned. Those who did, spoke in hushed tones of darkness and madness. Most importantly, rank-and-file soldiers would not willingly march through it. Rake could use it to limit his exposure to attack.
He wasn’t heading directly toward New Ruatha … he intended to capture the city rather than destroy it. Certainly a more strategic move. New
Ruatha was built atop a giant plateau, making it more easily defended than most cities, and it sat along the river that ran between Northport and Headwater, a waterway that served as the primary trade route for northern Ruatha. If he were to gain control of the city, his new weapon would make him unassailable by any sizable military force.
Alexander shifted back to Erik and found a force of nearly three thousand Rangers separated from the rest of the regiment.
“We can be ready to ride within the hour,” Erik said when Alexander appeared before him.
“Good. Make haste for the ruins of Old Ruatha. Rake and his army are in a hurry to get there. Plan to attack at dawn.”
“Understood,” Erik said.
Chapter 15
Alexander returned to his body and opened his eyes, finding his father and Hanlon standing before him watching him meditate.
He got up and hugged his father without a word, then turned to Hanlon, offering his hand.
“Isabel is well, but Phane still has her.”
The Forest Warden nodded, clenching his jaw. “Thank you.”
“I have Duane mustering a legion of Rangers to send north,” Duncan said. “He’s planning to ride at dawn. The Sky Knights are running continuous scouting missions and overwatch flights. Unfortunately, most of my forces are still in the east cleaning up the Lancers.”
“Call the Sky Knights in except for minimal patrols and have them put together an aid flight for Erik’s Rangers. Have the rest prepare for a dawn attack against Rake’s encampment on the northern edge of Old Ruatha. Erik will be coming from the east with three thousand Rangers. How many men can Duane field if he leaves tonight?”
“Five thousand, but he won’t get there until well after dawn.”
“By dawn, he’ll be close enough that Rake won’t use his falling-star spell on them,” Alexander said.
“I’ll give the order,” Hanlon said, sharing a look with Duncan, then turning on his heel.
After a moment of hesitation, Duncan said matter-of-factly, “I don’t believe we have enough power to defeat him, Alexander. His attack against Blackstone was—”
“He can’t do that again until tomorrow afternoon. He’ll be dead and cold by then.”
“What’s your plan?”
“I’m going to have Ratagan fly me close to Rake’s camp and drop me off, then I’m going to slip in and kill him—and take that blasted staff away from him.”
“That’s risky. How many men will you take?”
“Jataan, Jack, and Anja … I’m going to send Lita with a few Sky Knights to help the Rangers.”
“Wait … Anja, the dragon?” Duncan asked, acknowledging her for the first time.
“General Valentine, it’s very nice to make your acquaintance,” Anja said, with a somewhat awkward but sincere curtsy.
It was so out of character that Alexander did a double take.
“What?” she said. “He’s your father.”
Duncan bowed formally. “It’s an honor to meet you, Anja. Welcome to New Ruatha.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Turning back to Alexander, Duncan gestured around the Wizard’s Den and said, “You could easily fit a platoon of soldiers in here.”
“I was hoping to get close to Rake without detection. Numbers won’t help me do that.”
Duncan nodded, but looked less than convinced.
“After Duane leaves, don’t field any more troops. Rake can kill them if they’re out in the open. But I don’t think he’ll destroy the city if he can help it.”
“Be careful, Son,” Duncan said.
“I will,” Alexander said and hugged his father again.
He and Duncan and Lita walked out of the Wizard’s Den, leaving Jataan, Jack, and Anja inside. Alexander turned to them and said, “When I open this door, we’ll be inside Old Ruatha.”
“We’ll be ready, Lord Reishi,” Jataan said.
Alexander scanned the aerie for Ratagan, finding him with Horst, both checking their harnesses.
“Expect Duane just after sunrise,” Duncan said.
“Tell him to come in fighting.”
***
It was full dark, the first hours of the night, the air was cool but not frigid and the sky was clear. Alexander took a moment to explain his plan to the Sky Knights. Within minutes, he and Lita were mounted up and launching into the sky.
It took the better part of an hour to reach the edge of the city ruins. Over the open plains, it seemed like the world had flipped. The sky was bright and vivid, while the ground was black as the void.
The ancient ruins were blanketed in fog, thick and low. Alexander sent his sight forth, scouting for a landing spot close to Rake’s camp but far enough away to avoid detection. As he searched, he noticed that the ruins themselves hinted at dark colors … more unsettling still, it was pervasive, emanating equally from all of the ruined buildings.
With that in mind, he picked a spot, an empty square with only a smattering of stone debris scattered across its surface. Alexander guided Ratagan into a relatively soft landing inside the fog-shrouded ruin. The wyvern came down and froze in place, vapor swirling away in whirling eddies. The air was thick and seemed to dampen sound, muffling hints of noises in the distance just enough to make Alexander wonder if he was actually hearing anything at all.
He slipped off the wyvern and waved his thanks to Ratagan. The Sky Knight saluted and launched into the sky. Within the span of three wing beats, he was gone. Alexander opened his Wizard’s Den and retrieved Luminessence.
Jack peered past Jataan into the fog. “That’s unsettling,” he muttered.
“Stay close, this place actually is cursed,” Alexander said.
“So it’s not haunted then?” Jack said, shrugging innocently at the look Anja gave him.
The fog was cold, penetrating and damp. It wasn’t long before their clothes clung to them like wet blankets. Alexander tried to set a brisk enough pace to stay warm, but he had to stop every so often to scout ahead with his magic.
Then there were the sounds in the distance … shrill, high-pitched screams tinged with a hint of panic. They were faint, distant, even through the fog … but they were getting closer.
He tried to find the source of the noises but found only tainted ruins. No matter how many times he tried to relax, he invariably felt his muscles tense. The place had a way of wearing on his courage. He sent his vision up through the fog, scouting the distance to the enemy line. Not long now. They’d been inside the ruins for nearly an hour and he could see fear even in Jataan’s colors.
At one point, Alexander thought he saw a face in the fog, silvery and serene, but then it was gone. Not a minute later, the silvery silhouette of a person peeked around the corner of a broken building. She looked straight at Alexander, then ducked back before he could turn and see her—but he had seen her.
She was a ghost.
Alexander’s experience with ghosts was limited, but he knew they could be dangerous if they wanted to be. He stretched out with his sight and gave himself over to the moment.
“Don’t mean to raise an alarm or anything,” Jack whispered loudly, “but I think I just saw a ghost.”
“Yeah, me too,” Alexander said.
“Is that what those are?” Anja asked.
The silvery apparition of a beautiful young woman appeared a dozen feet ahead of them, looking almost solid in the fog. Alexander stopped, wondering if he should try to talk to her.
“You’re a descendant,” she said. “You shall join us.”
She froze, flickering for a moment in the fog, then vanished.
“Didn’t much like the sound of that,” Jack said.
“Me neither,” Alexander muttered, scanning the fog warily.
Everything got very still for a moment before the world felt like it exploded in a death shriek. Every stone … every piece of debris … every square inch of Old Ruatha began wailing a forlorn, terrified, panicked howl. It started loud and intense before trailin
g off into abject hopelessness.
Irrational fear flooded into Alexander, followed by recurrent surges of new fear, each seeming to build on the last. He and his friends stood frozen, rooted to the spot. It took every scrap of his will to push past the fear and collect his reason. Even after he’d mastered himself, his hands still trembled.
Before he could even assess the threat, a dozen ghosts floated up out of the flagstones in a loose circle surrounding them. A quick look told him that his friends were still working through the death shriek. The ghosts seemed to see Alexander and his friends all at once. In that moment, their faces transformed from human to those of the dead, gruesome and decayed.
They attacked as one, coming at them from all angles. Alexander braced for the impact of their onslaught but felt none. Several ghosts advanced on him, but they fled into the aether, shrieking in fear when they got close to Luminessence.
The rest swirled between them, howling and wailing, before settling on the other three. Jack, Jataan, and Anja stood frozen, staring off into the distance while silvery light danced around them. The night went silent and calm.
Alexander shook Jataan, but the General Commander didn’t seem to notice. He opened his Wizard’s Den and dragged him inside. As he moved to get Anja, he heard a scraping, snarling, mewling noise in the fog—close enough to pose an imminent threat.
After he’d gotten Anja safely inside, he found Jack huddled on the ground, his face in his hands. Something dark was approaching in the mist. Alexander dragged Jack to safety. A creature howled.
He unleashed Luminessence, and the ghosts haunting his friends wailed, coming free of their bodies in swirling, formless energy and fleeing into the fog. The thing stalking in the dark barked a few times, then whined and ran away.
Alexander closed the door and carried each of his friends to a cot. They were alive and breathing steadily but they were not awake, in spite of the fact that their eyes were wide open. He looked at them helplessly, weighing his limited options. He didn’t want to leave them unattended but he had a job to do.
Sovereign of the Seven Isles 7: Reishi Adept Page 17