Ascending Shadows

by Everet Martins

  Then Ezra saw Greyson wriggling against the Arch Wizard’s bonds off to her side. His smile crumbled. He came to an uncertain stop half-way towards her chair, his boots screeching and echoing about the wide hall. The King slowly removed his crown, stared and said, “Is this a wizard’s trick? Do my eyes deceive me?”

  “No trick.” Nyset flicked her hand open, and Greyson stumbled forward with a gasp as if he’d been pushed.

  “Father!” He rushed over to him, the Black Guard parting to let him through, but not without giving him a suspicious eye. Greyson looped his arms around the skeletal King in a loving embrace. His words were muffled in his father’s ear, no doubt telling of his misery and the Mistress’ betrayal.

  They murmured words for a moment. A cough and someone clearing a throat echoed about the chamber.

  The King pulled his face back from Greyson. “My eldest son has returned to me. The gods bless me many times over.” King Ezra stroked Greyson’s cheek with the back of his hand, both with eyes glistening with tears. The Black Guard shifted uneasily from them, regarding the room with nervy eyes.

  The King’s throat worked in a series of swallows, his soft eyes shifting to a flinty hardness as he regarded the room and finally resting on Nyset. “Arch Wizard. I have a sense you will not be kneeling before your King.”

  “Has the Tower ever kneeled to anyone?” The Arch Wizard’s voice called, no shame, no guilt, only strength in her tone. “I have been on my knees before as a daughter, as a child, once before your throne as your vassal. Removing the dark touch of your former corrupt advisor, Malek, a member of Asebor’s Wretched if I recall correctly, which I do. No, I have spent more than my share of time on my knees, my King.”

  The Arch Wizard stood, scarlet robes floating over her curves.

  “If anyone should be kneeling, it should be you,” she continued. “The Tower no longer is indebted to the kingdom. We are the strength in this land. The force that has subjugated the darkness over the centuries, giving you unearned rewards while we hid in the shadows doing the work that mattered. Our sacrifices have kept the realm purged of evil. This you know well.”

  The King raised his chin, staring up at her with rheumy eyes for a long minute. He swallowed and looked down at his boots.

  Greyson gripped his father under the armpit, propping him up. “No. Father,” he hissed.

  King Ezra cleared his throat. “I would kneel, Mistress, however, it seems my knees do not wish to comply. I must regrettably decline.” He grinned under his blanket of white beard.

  “That’s unfortunate.” Her face was made of iron. “Maybe I can help your knees along with a bit of Dragon fire next time I visit you in Midgaard. Know about your uncontrolled problem with the Purists. Perhaps it just needs a little fire?”

  The King’s face tightened. Isa’s heart thudded as the Black Guard formed a flanking pattern around the King, hands resting on sword hilts. “Any wizard who enters Midgaard is always guaranteed a warm welcome. I can make sure of that. Many white-cloaked men would gladly take you into the arms of their loving nooses. Or maybe you’d prefer to be kept warm for eternity upon one of their pyres?”

  “Why bother waiting?” Nyset slowly started down the steps, taking them one at a time. Her flat shoes were hardly a whisper on the polished stone. She met the King eye to eye. “Why don’t you go on and give me your warm welcome? I’d be happy to fight you now. All of you.” A murderous smile crept up her lips, eyes flaring with Dragon fire.

  The King’s hand started shaking. The quiver traveled up his arm, crawled across his face and up to an eye. His wrinkled hand was tight against a sword on his hip, the belt starting to slide off even on the tightest notch. “You know not of what treachery you speak, Tower whore! If you think the kingdom will ever bow! You—”

  “Fight me, coward!” Nyset screamed. “You tucked your tail and ran when we needed you. The realm needed you, and you hid in your hole.” A thin aura of light formed around her figure, the air around her waving with heat.

  Isa held his breath, saw everyone else doing the same. He wondered then if she really would just burn them all to ashes and take the entirety of the realm for herself. He was suddenly unsure who was the worse tyrant. The King was no doubt a coward, but all power, even the Tower’s, needed balance.

  Juzo slipped down the stairs, silent as a stalking cat and placed a gentle hand on Nyset’s shoulder. “The Tower fights for the greater good. We are the protectors of the realm,” he whispered in her ear, the whisper echoing about the vacuous chamber.

  The Arch Wizard exhaled a long breath, staring at the King, then regarded Greyson with a nod. The veins bulging from her throat relaxed, shoulders dropping, and the aura of light around her faded.

  “This new Arch Wizard lacks the proper respect,” the King croaked, trying to salvage his caved in resolve.

  Claw sauntered down the stairs to Nyset’s other side, blades jingling on his hips. “Easy to understand when you’ve betrayed the future of the realm. You understand, don’t you?” The man’s loyalty was endless, unwavering despite the Arch Wizard’s actions. Isa gave him an impressed nod. “If you were there that day… all the bodies, the limbs, the guts hanging from Death Spawn weapons, you might speak differently about burning and hanging wizards. Without us, there’d be none of you. This I know.”

  The King gazed sternly at Claw while he spoke. “Do not speak to me of war, Northman. I know more than you can fathom. Been alive longer than anyone in this chamber!” He stomped his boot.

  Claw scoffed then shrugged, tilted his head back and mouthed something at the ceiling.

  “This is how you repay the kingdom’s loyalty to the Tower?” King Ezra asked. “All the marks we’ve given you to help you rebuild. All of that, and this is how you treat me? Treat my son, the prince? Sold as a slave!” He beat his small fist into his palm.

  The Arch Wizard gaped and covered her mouth.

  “I know what you did. You’re not the only one with eyes and ears, Mistress.”

  “You’re a madman. No madder than the day when you were under Malek’s control. In fact, I think your sanity was on a solid footing then by comparison.”

  Isa flicked his eyes to Senka, saw her watching, shaking her head and pulling on her shirt’s collar.

  “You dare!” The King’s voice flared.

  “I dare!” Nyset hissed. “Fight me! Coward!” Her voice crashed against the walls, everyone holding their breath like that terrible minute before two warring forces collided. Maybe it would be their last. Maybe today would be the first time a King would die in the Silver Tower.

  Greyson put a hand on Ezra’s neck. “Not today. Not now, father. This is not the time,” he whispered.

  The King took in a long, shuddering breath. He raised his head and worked out a tightness from his shoulders. He looked down to watch his fingers uncurl from his sword’s hilt. He lifted his hand and contemplatively stroked his beard. “Has anyone ever let you know that you are an ill-mannered Arch Wizard?”

  Claw snickered. “She is new to the position, though has done a fine job by all accounts. Has a bit of a temper at times.”

  “I have a temper?” The Arch Wizard shifted her gaze from the King to Claw and crossed her arms. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

  “This is how you keep the peace, Arch Wizard? This is how you keep the unspoken agreement?” The King stared at her.

  Nyset shrugged helplessly. “As Claw, my Northman guard said, I am new to the position. I have much to learn. And if Greyson would’ve stayed gone like he should’ve…” She glanced back at Isa, and he felt himself stiffen and his bowels clench. “You wouldn’t have known the difference, would you? This was not a future I’d planned for. I do like a good plan, however.” She smiled pleasantly.

  The King shook his head and a sinister chuckle came from the hole in his beard. “That is the excitement of life, is it not? You dig and dig and carve the perfect channel for the water to flow, and out it goes, right over i
t, ruining the crops.”

  The Arch Wizard set her arms at her side, scars twitching as she curled and uncurled her fists. “You still need to pay for your crimes. You owe the Tower, the realm, a great debt.”

  “Will blood sate you, Mistress? Does it ever sate anyone?” The King swept his gaze about the room for the first time. “If you wanted my blood, you could’ve taken it long ago, we both know that. You don’t want my blood. You’re not a killer. Yes, you are new to the position, but you’ll learn a leader is more than just a killer. The folly of youth. Why don’t we try to give peace a chance? Set your prayers on the Phoenix. We should turn our blades and fires into open hands. Perhaps, if we have not yet settled our differences in a year’s time, we take up the blade again.”

  And with that, he turned on his heels, his legs shaking as he made for the entrance, torches fluttering along the walls. As he walked, his voice boomed as his cloak billowed from his form. “I thank you, Arch Wizard, for your welcoming hospitality… and for returning my son in one piece. You’ll not forget this, I guarantee!”

  The King stopped before the set of stairs leading out of the chamber, paused and turned back to face the group standing about the Mistress’ chair. “There will be a day to mark this betrayal, a day of reckoning. Lighting will tear from the sky, and you will remember who the true King of Zoria is.”

  Greyson followed his father like a whipped dog, his gait limping. He looked over his shoulder, his brow glistening with sweat, sweeping his bloodshot gaze from Senka, to Juzo and stopping at meeting Isa’s eyes. His lips pressed into a white line, giving him a quick nod. Isa slowly nodded back as he watched him leave. The King’s wiry form faded as he descended the steps, the Black Guard following.

  A pair of great Milvorian doors were closed behind them with an echoing thud.

  “Should’ve cut his throat when we had the chance,” Isa muttered. “Ill tidings indeed.” His eyes fell to Prodal’s brand.

  “We’ll all go back to the sand eventually. Isn’t that right, Senka?”

  Senka sniffed. “Yes, Mistress,” she said with a curt nod.

  “Alas, the Shadow Realm waits for our return,” the Arch Wizard said, stepping back and settling into her chair. She stared at the closed doors. Even the way she sat in the chair conveyed a certain ownership of the area around it. She was strength embodied, Isa thought. “Now we have other matters to discuss,” she said after a few minutes.

  “More wizards will die by the King’s hand.” Isa walked down the stairs of the dais and started to pace. “You’re going to let him and the Purists go on killing as they please and do nothing? Good men and women have fallen. We have to stop him.”

  The Arch Wizard looked from him, to Senka, Juzo, Grimbald, Claw, and Vesla, and a few others. “We won’t let it go on. I won’t let it.”

  “Death to the King!” A woman’s voice cried from the balcony. Her voice echoed, fading in the nooks of the enormous chamber.

  There were enemies everywhere. In their home, across the realm, across the seas. Isa had faced death many times before and knew he was far from facing it for the last time.

  “I too can make mistakes! I’ve made many.” The Arch Wizard jumped from her chair. “I’m not perfect. I have my flaws like any of you. I was stricken with grief. I saw no other way to avenge Walter’s death. But then there was an opportunity, and I took it. Can you blame me?” Her voice bounced from the walls. “What would you have done in my position?”

  A few voices muttered “no” and shook their heads.

  “If any of you would’ve done something different, I’d like to hear it,” she went on.

  Silence. A cleared throat.

  The Arch Wizard let out a pained sigh. “Didn’t intend to make an enemy of the King. But so these things go. I’ll find a way to make it right. To fix my wrongs. The claws of the Purists are deep within the King now. Have to remove them eventually.”

  Isa stopped in front of the Arch Wizard and bowed. “Mistress.”

  A flurry of conversation and mutterings carried from the wizards on the balcony and guards lining the walls. The Arch Wizard raised her hand in a request for silence.

  Isa briefly looked up at her and said, “The King put you on this path long ago when he sat idle upon his throne when we needed him. I would have done what you did. His crimes are of greater treachery, and he needed a reckoning. Don’t blame you for what you did. My blade is always yours.”

  “Nor do I,” Senka said, stepping down beside him and bowing.

  “Me either,” Juzo joined them, then winked at the Arch Wizard.

  “My loyalty, Ny— Arch Wizard.” Grimbald blushed.

  “We’ve seen much death on our journey. I’m glad you left your audience chamber unbloodied today,” Isa said, his head bowed.

  “I thank you. All of you for your unwavering loyalty,” Nyset said crisply. “The Tower needs you more than ever. It’s time you should all know that the Shadow has returned,” she said, wheeling around the room.

  An explosion of frantic conversation filled the air.

  She somehow projected her voice to a booming level, overriding the tumult. Perhaps it was another new spell she’d discovered. “Not here, not yet. In Tigeria. I can see it in the harrowed eyes of my friends, my advisors, that it is true. Our safety is not guaranteed.”

  Nyset raised her hand for silence again. When conversations became hushed whispers, she carried on.

  “We all knew this day would come. We knew the Shadow princess fled. It was only a matter of time before we would be brought to arms again. The reality is, we’ll have to unite with Midgaard. Our feuds will have to wait.” The Arch Wizard gazed about the room, her eyes sparking alight with malevolent fire “The Shadow ascends once more, and we will rise against it!” She smashed her palm against the chair, splitting the wood and shooting a burning chunk across the floor. “Who will fight with me?” she roared, rising up as bellowing voices and pumping fists filled the room.

  She lowered her voice to those closest to her. “Come to my office tomorrow after you’ve rested, bathed, and supped. We have much to discuss.”

  The sun was bright even as it drifted over the horizon. It was the first day of summer in New Breden, the cool breeze from the Far Sea already becoming insufficient. Dogs were sprawled in the shadows of the cobbled streets, a flock of gray gulls screamed at each other over the glimmering bay.

  “Finally home,” Isa said to Senka at his side, his hips pressed against the warmth of hers. But for how long? he wondered. They sat upon the coastal wall, her legs swaying back and forth like a child’s. The wall was mossy and barnacled at the bottom, made of enormous chunks of field stone about as big as a man with veins of mortar running between them.

  “Ready to tell the story to the Mistress tomorrow?” She squinted at him. A section of black hair fell over an eye and fluttered in the breeze.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” He rubbed at Prodal’s markings, each time foolishly hoping they’d be gone when he next looked at them.

  “Don’t worry.” She regarded him with her giant brown eyes, swimming with strings of green and blue. “You’ll not fight that battle alone.” He inwardly flinched as she wrapped her arm under his and worked her fingers between his. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. But he was terribly worried, not that he’d ever tell anyone. He had a feeling Prodal was no god, no demon, something else entirely. Something not to be trifled with.

  He swallowed and shook his head, shifted his gaze from the horizon to her. “I missed you. Sorry I never visited. Thought maybe you had forgotten about me. Life in the Swiftshades kept me busy…” He saw an image then of Marian’s whimpering face. Screaming, dying. He squeezed her hand hard, and she squeezed back with just as much firmness. He blew out his cheeks.

  She let out a breathy snicker. “Could never.” She leaned against him, pressed her side against his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. He made his hand relax and rested his head against hers.

  After a fe
w minutes, he inched back to look at her, taking in her shining round cheeks, almond shaped eyes, thick eyebrows, and full lips. He reached out with his other hand and put two fingers under her chin to gently tip her head back. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, both of their eyes opened.

  It was like he fell into her then, inside her heart, seeing her spirit swirling with life behind her eyes. He saw the sun, the sea, and the swirling gulls reflected in their depths.

  Her lips felt like pillows. He lapped at her tongue, and she licked back. He pulled away with an involuntary grin, letting his shoulders relax as the last edge of sun drifted behind the sea. In that moment, all the nightmares faded away to nothing. He leaned over to breathe her in, letting his nose pass over her head and inhaling her unique and unidentifiable scent. She wrapped her arms around his torso, hugging him tight.

  It felt like home. He was finally home. But for how long?

  To be continued in Book 7 of The Age of Dawn.

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