Claw followed her gaze. “Can say a lot of things about the Arch Wizard, but one thing you can say for certain is that she knows how to plan. Thinks ahead, thinks of the worst thing that could happen. A good skill, that,” Claw sniffed.
“Can also say she’s a vengeful cunt,” Greyson muttered under his breath, but Senka’s ears were sharp.
A lifetime of shivering in the shadows of the trackless dunes of the Nether, waiting for a foraging Sandwolf that would be her next meal made her cued into the subtlety of sound. Maybe he was tired. The princeling was often like a petulant child, needing rest when his temper flared. Not unlike his father from what she’d heard of King Ezra. This was likely one of those times. She glared at him over her shoulder, letting him know his words did not go unheard. His cheeks flushed in shades of pink, his mouth falling wordlessly open, then closed with his flaking lips pressed together. He met her eyes for an instant before flicking them back at the ground.
A pair of veteran Armsman flanked the entrance to the Arch Wizard’s tower, stepping aside as Claw approached. Their armor glowed like demon’s blood in the pink of the dying sun. Both held long spears with jagged blades at the business end. Above them, perched upon the battlements stood a few veteran wizards, staring at them with glowing eyes, fireballs hovering at their shoulders for both light and the threat they implied.
“Master Claw,” one of the Armsman said, both giving a rigid salute. His eyes were battle hardened, scars crisscrossing over his cheeks. “We need to search the newcomer for weapons.” The man who spoke beckoned for Greyson to come.
“You will not!” Greyson snapped, eyes blazing, his open hand starting to rise back as if he might slap the guard. The guard cocked a daring brow at his opened hand. Greyson paused and turned the movement at his neck like he was merely scratching an itch. His posture sagged. “I have no weapons.” He inverted his pockets and lifted his shirt, showing skeletal ribs. “Happy now, or shall I drop my trousers as well? Maybe you’d like to suck my cock?”
The guard’s face was made of stone as he handed his spear to his companion while staring at Greyson. He stepped towards Greyson and cracked his knuckles.
Claw waved the guard down. “It’s fine, general. Appreciate your vigilance.” Claw gruffed and started up the stairs, his boots scuffing on the stone worn from millions of footfalls. Isa went in after him. Senka followed, then Greyson, still muttering curses as they made their way inside the Tower.
The stairs seemed to spiral up forever. Senka remembered what a mighty climb it was to get up to the Mistress’ office.
“Can’t you make a portal or something?” Greyson groaned more forcefully with every step.
“Not safe,” Claw grunted. “Good for you to use your body once in a while I reckon. Not good to rely on magic. Steal is always there when magic is not.” He patted the blade on his back.
Senka instinctively patted at the underside of her wrists, searching for needles in the hidden sleeves of bracers that were not there. She frowned down at her naked wrists. She rubbed the light scarring where the manacles once were. Never again will I be put in chains, she vowed.
“Can’t argue with that,” Isa said in front of her. She couldn’t help but let her eyes drink in the round curves of Isa’s working backside. The shape of his ass was perfect. She wanted to bite it. The thought brought a mischievous grin to her lips.
They passed paintings and tapestries hanging from the curving walls, depicting ancient battles and recent. Senka eyed a brightly colored tapestry about half-way up the Tower, resting above a narrow window. It was embroidered with a battle scene, and she almost paid it as little regard as all the others until something caught her eye. There was an army of wizards and men in armor fighting against Tigerians and Tougeres, their mounts’ teeth as long as swords. Great scarlet carrion birds circled the sky above them, just like the birds they saw in Tigeria. It was all too accurate.
“The Trial of Devastation, I’m told.” Claw was looking at her, his chest heaving. “They tried to raid Midgaard and the Tower. Midgaard says they warded them off. The Mistress has uncovered new history that says the Tower did most of the dark work. So it goes, men interpreting the past to fit their needs, images of themselves.” He nodded at the artwork. They stood there catching their breath for another minute or so, everyone admiring the art.
“The victor, the one with the most coin makes the histories,” Isa commented. “History is not to be trusted. Too easy to change by deft hands and scheming hearts.” He sent a sneer at Greyson.
They came upon a landing where the stairs continued traveling upward. Archways led to short open-air bridges that went west and east, each leading out to various houses. One archway had the carving of a Phoenix figure at the apex, its long tail feathers swirling and coming down around the curve of the arch. The other had the head of a Dragon with its mouth gaping open, showing its fearsome teeth, long snake-like body waving around the entrance.
Claw put his hands on his hips and stretched his back. “Just a bit farther.”
Senka bit her lip. For a reason she could not identify, a flurry of nerves carved through her guts. Maybe she was scared of the tidings they would bring the Arch Wizard. She’d be disappointed they hadn’t successfully killed the Shadow princess. As far as Senka could tell, their mission was an abject failure. They hadn’t done any real damage to the Shadow, only saw its power grow in terrible magnitude. They might have even had some part in its spreading.
Claw started up the stairs. “Damned knees never seem to heal right anymore.” He clicked his tongue.
Isa looked Senka up and down. “Are you well?”
“Fine!” she said, too fast, too unmeasured. She nodded, pressed her lips together. “Think I just need to rest soon,” she chuckled awkwardly.
“Soon.” He sniffed and followed after Claw, his jaw set.
Senka saw Greyson impatiently tapping his foot, one arm crossed, gesturing for her to move so he could follow. “We have to hurry.”
Senka shook her head, plodding after Isa. What was the princeling’s urgency? Why was he so frantic about seeing the Mistress? She started to ask him, but bit back her words, realizing it was only a waste of precious breath.
They reached the topmost landing before the Arch Wizard’s quarters, everyone breathing hard now. The door to the Mistress’ office was closed. Sweat prickled at Senka’s back. She shook the tension out of her legs and placed a smile on her face.
“Everyone just about ready?” Claw asked, not waiting for an answer and moving towards the heavy banded door.
A procession of windows marched along one side of the corridor showing the dark waters of the Far Sea. The stars were starting to show, speckling the sky in their luminous light. Billowy iron gray clouds swelled on the horizon, portending rain. It felt like just a few moons ago when she was last here, but knew it had been a few months now. The view was stunning. She thought she could’ve stayed here all day.
The door swung open on well-oiled hinges. “Claw.” Nyset gravely nodded at him, gesturing for them to enter. She wore a gown of red silk lined with gold thread at the wrists, the neckline plunging down between her breasts. Her golden hair was tied back and secured by a triangular barrette. A few rebellious gray strands curled about her ears.
The Arch Wizard touched Claw’s shoulder as he swept past her. Her narrowed eyes regarded Juzo, Isa, Senka, then froze on Greyson. “You,” she breathed as if taken aback.
“Me!” Greyson seethed. He barreled past the others, pushing his way into her office, fists balled up tight. He suddenly stopped with a grunt to scratch at the back of his leg, lifting his pants. Senka caught sight of a blister the size of her fist on the back of his calf. Maybe some infection. But Claw had healed him, she thought with puzzlement. Isa checked him, but had he missed something? Had he hidden a Shadow snake bite? The thought fell away in the Mistress’ majestic presence and against the weight of exhaustion. It was a mistake she’d live to regret.
The Arch W
izard followed him into the office, watching him with arms crossed. “It isn’t what you think.”
“What exactly? What isn’t what I think? What exactly!” Greyson asked, his voice breaking into a shriek. He looked like a vagrant of the worst sort near her impeccable beauty.
“Keep your voice down,” Nyset hissed. Her forearms flexed under her breasts, making the white scars running up and down her arms dance.
Senka filed into the room after the others. The enormous table in the center of her office was cleared of all the clutter and debris she saw last time, now generously adorned with fruits, cheeses, ornamented plates and glasses, and a few bottles of wine. Senka’s eyes found the floor, concentrating on the shimmering bands of stone in the tiles. Sweat beaded on her palms. She forced herself to breathe. They did the best they could, given their resources, she told herself. Whatever was brewing between Greyson and the Arch Wizard was worth paying attention to. Nyset gestured at the door, and it closed shut with a thud.
Isa slipped around Greyson’s back, his knife hand raised to strike at his neck. He eyed the Mistress for permission.
The Arch Wizard quickly shook her head at him, brow furrowed. His hand fell to his side, shoulders slumping. A held breath hissed from his lips.
Greyson marched around the table, eyebrows drawn, wildly gesticulating. “You sold me as a slave! A slave!” he growled. “To Scab! You—” He jabbed his finger at her like he wanted to stab her with it. He tilted his head back and screamed in frustration. His pale skin flushed in shades of red from his neck to his forehead.
The Mistress nodded, bit her lip, and her cheeks reddened. “Scab’s alive? That’s news. Knew I should have ensured his death.” She looked through one of her windows in the direction of Tigeria. Had she known where he was all along?
“You’ll pay for this. The Tower will pay. You’ll not get away with this treachery.” His whole body vibrated with boiling rage. Greyson raised his fists as if the smash them into the table.
Nyset flicked her fingers at him, and his arms stopped in mid-air, his body rigid as if he’d been paralyzed. “Please don’t do that.” She scrunched up her face. “Do you have any idea how much work it was to finally clean this place?”
Greyson’s icy blue eyes whirled at her. “Release me! I demand that you release me now!”
The Mistress’ eyes glowed in shimmering shades of blue and amber, shifting back and forth like the light in her eyes was an oily liquid. “Only if you behave yourself,” she said with raised eyebrows, her words measured. “We work this out peaceably. There are greater enemies that we must ally against.”
Everyone spread about the room, watching the spectacle unfold.
“Peaceably!” Greyson shouted. “The nerve! The arrogance! What you’ve done to me, to my name. It’s unforgivable. My father, my sister’s suffering.” Angry beads of sweat dripped from Greyson’s nose, pattering on the floor.
“She wouldn’t,” Senka said, still believing in the Arch Wizard’s veracity. Could she? Would she?
“Think about it.” Greyson gritted his teeth, eyes imploring everyone but the Arch Wizard, briefly resting on each person. “Who hardly lifted a finger during the Shadow war? Who was to let the Tower fall? My scoundrel father, of course. This is her of way of repaying him. It all makes sense. But who suffers most?”
“Will you behave?” she asked again.
Greyson snarled like a caged animal, writhing against the unseen bonds of the Phoenix.
“You’ll stay there until you can speak to me in a calm manner. I’m not your servant, boy. Remember your place.”
“Unbelievable! Ridiculous! Treat me like your child, will you? When my father—”
Nyset waved her hand, her eyes flashing for an instant. Greyson’s mouth was pried open by invisible hands, his tongue lapping. He made a gurgling sound, maybe a desperate plea.
“The gag stays until you calm yourself.” Her eyes narrowed, and her voice became a razor. “Your father is a coward, a traitor to the realm. If not for Walter’s sacrifice, not for his death, the realm might’ve fallen to the Shadow.” She exhaled a breath she visibly fought to control. “You. The nobility, the palace deserves worse. Far worse.”
Claw leaned back against a towering bookshelf, arms crossed and one leg raised up against it. “What’s this about?” His voice was like gravel.
The Arch Wizard bit her cheeks and stared at Greyson. “Frankly, revenge. The King must pay for his betrayal to me, to all of us.” Her eyes blazed with the flames of the Dragon, fire dancing up and out the sockets.
Senka and Isa shared an uncertain glance.
“Wait.” Juzo clapped his white hand on the Mistress’ shoulder. “Ny, do tell us what this is about before you incinerate our traveling companion. I was just starting to like him.”
“Fine.” Her eyes flashed, the glow draining away. “You deserve that.” She started tapping an elegant finger to her full lips.
Greyson regained control of his body. He rubbed at his throat, hunched over on his knees, and fought for a full breath.
“He speaks the truth, mostly. I knew Greyson would be departing from New Breden’s port for his diplomacy mission to Tigeria. A fine idea, but an opportunity to make the King hurt. The King had to hurt, you understand, had to pay. He had to know how it felt to lose something he truly loved,” She clenched her fists and forced them back open with a breath. She closed her eyes tight and tears squeezed out of the corners. “I know it wasn’t right, I do. I was mired in grief, you see.” She sniffed and swiveled her eyes to Greyson. “The ship you willingly stepped upon was not the same crew you had commissioned for the voyage.”
“You fucking bitch,” he coughed, rising up. “You’ll pay for your treachery to the crown.”
A wicked smile touched her lips. “It was a slaver’s ship. You were never meant to be heard from again.” She shook her head. “And here you are. Alive.”
Isa let out a disbelieving whistle, his eyes going wide.
Senka didn’t know how she should feel. She felt like she was being split down the middle between her loyalty to the Mistress and the friendship she had started to feel towards Greyson. This man was innocent, had no part in his father’s actions, yet he bore the burden of his father’s crimes. The world is a dark place. Where light shone, shadows were made. Always shadows, she thought, staring at the darkness cast by the Mistress’ imposing figure.
“Didn’t think you had it in you, Ny.” Juzo stepped back, his hand falling from her shoulder. He sniffed, lips pressing together in a slight grimace.
Isa rubbed his eyes as if the sight would go away when he opened them.
“What do we do?” Senka asked, feeling foolish as the words came out.
Nyset raised her sharp chin. “Now, you tell me of your journey. And how you got that mark.” She gestured at Isa. He wrapped his hand around it, ineffectually hiding the brand.
A furious rapping came at her door. “Nyset? Are you in there? I need you. Now!” Grimbald’s quaking voice said. The door swung open, showing Grimbald’s giant fist raised and ready to knock again.
He gaped at the contents of the room. “Hey, Senka,” he said, meeting her eyes. “You’re back. You’re all back.”
“What is it, Grim?” Nyset prompted.
“The King. He’s here,” he said between heavy breaths. “With an army.”
TWENTY
Dark Tidings
“Breathe fire upon your enemies. Be hard as stone against their ripostes. Move like the wind and never let them rest.” – The diaries of Nyset Camfield
King Ezra hobbled into the Arch Wizard’s meeting chamber surrounded by a convoy of his Black Guard. His cobalt eyes burned, shrouded in folds upon folds of wrinkled flesh. They were battle hardened men, blades of all sort strapped to their bodies on every conceivable place. Isa scanned their faces, watching for the telltale signs of violence, but their expressions were impassive. Their hands rested comfortably on their belts, some with thumbs brushing agains
t sword hilts as if itching for the chance to use them.
The King’s shoulders were draped in furs so heavy Isa was surprised he could bear their weight. There was a gleaming emerald on his withered finger beside tens of others. His crown was ornamented with just as many jewels, sliding off the side of his head covered in wisps of white hair. The most impressive thing of all was the King’s smile. It was the smile one wore after defeating an old enemy. He smiled like his plans had finally come to fruition, like he was mere inches from seizing his foe’s throat.
There was always a string of tension held between the Tower and Midgaard, sometimes pulled taut, other times loosened. They were both always vying for a show of power, letting the realm know who was its true strength and benefactor. Isa didn’t think there was a time when it was tighter than this.
The Arch Wizard sat in a gilded chair elevated upon a dais, glaring at the King as he entered. Her fingernails were pressed white and arching against the armrests. Isa stood at her side behind her chair, his clothing ragged in contrast with the richness of the room. Stone balconies with intricately carved balusters flanked the rectangular chamber. Giant banners depicting the Phoenix and the Dragon hung over the edges of the balconies, twitching in the gentle breeze at either side of her chair. Around the perimeter of the room stood exotic shrubs, flowers, and priceless vases painted with bright pastels. In the corner, a fountain peacefully gurgled.
Isa’s throat felt painfully dry. He gazed over at Senka, Juzo, and Grimbald, all in a line behind where she sat. Claw and Vesla, Nyset’s assistant, stood before the chair below the dais, their arms resting at their sides. Twelve of her most favored veteran wizards leaned over the balcony, letting the force below know where they stood if they thought violence would be the answer.
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