by Matthew Wolf
Karil descended the plinth, as the fearful whispers and shouts echoed off the walls. She turned to those in the balcony. “You want proof?” she said, voice ringing with crystal clear authority.
The King raised his hand and silence fell over the grand chambers, “I will allow you one last chance to make me believe your claims.” Gray noticed councilor Tervasian. He wore a look of disdain and he wanted to wipe the look from the man’s face.
Karil whispered to Gray, “I may need your help.” He gave a curious nod and she closed her eyes, placing a hand to the white flame upon the marble floor. Her brows drew down and sweat dotted her forehead. Suddenly, a fire sparked, sprouting from the stone. Whispers of fear and awe suffused the wide chambers. The flames grew to form a large pane like a sheet of orange glass. Coldness radiated from the flame. Still, it grew, large enough for all to see in the hall. Karil’s legs trembled and she called his name. He reached to grab her, but Rydel was quicker, catching her before she fell.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked anxiously.
“Contain it,” she whispered, face strained.
Gray could see now that the flames from the fire were beginning to snap outward hungrily. She was losing control. He reached for the nexus and a flood of light entered his vision. Focusing on the roaring fire, he reached out. Strands of golden air shot from his fingertips. The strands stretched like flowing water over the rampant flames, and the tongues of fire were contained and shielded like a sword being sheathed.
Karil stood straight with Rydel’s aid, “Thank you.”
Gray stepped back. He looked to Ayva and Darius. Their mouths were wide, mimicking the rest of the chamber. On the marble dais, even the King watched in wonder.
The guards at the tall doors and behind the dais, shifted their halberds in their hands and clutched their curved swords threateningly, ready to move at a mere word from their king.
“What is this?” Katsu questioned.
“Proof,” The elvin queen replied. Karil turned to the flame, lifting a hand. An image appeared in the fire, and gasps filled the chambers. Men and women laughed and danced in an open green field. Suddenly, screams echoed from inside the flames as they were slaughtered by the rampaging horde. The screams reached a peak as flames enveloped the town.
“What is this place?” the King asked, stricken.
“Lakewood,” Ayva answered.
“A small taste of what has already passed, though I’m not done,” Karil said loudly for all to hear. “Observe!” The red flames roared. Nine cloaked men flashed within the window of flames, riding dark steeds with an endless army at their back. The balconies erupted in chaos.
“The Ronin!” voices murmured.
“No! The Kage!” Karil shouted. The image of the Kage vanished and was replaced by horrific scenes, one after another… Charred streets, bloated bodies, ruined cities. Karil spoke, “All of these are images I have seen, events already come to pass. This is what you should fear!”
The faces of the dignitaries grew in horror with each fiery red vision.
“Enough!” The king shouted finally, his words bringing an end to the images.
The man’s face looked ghostly white. Gray couldn’t help but take some satisfaction in the king’s rattled visage. “Now you see the truth.”
Councilor Tervasian laughed. The condescending sound filled the vast chambers. “That is all?” he said snidely, “The cheap tricks and witchcraft of an elf? What sort of truth is this?”
“Silence!” The King bellowed. Tervasian quieted, but glowered at Gray. “Let’s say we believe you,” Katsu continued, hands gripping the arms of his ornate throne, “If we do, and those images are real, what would stop them? How am I to protect my kingdom from this evil?”
“No one knows how to destroy the Kage,” Mura voiced, “but their army is composed of vergs and saeroks, and they bleed and die just like you and I.”
Rydel stepped forward. “You have to make a stand here. Gather your men—with your numbers and your high walls, you should be able to, at the very least, hold out against the dark army. They cannot bring siege weapons in the high passes. You can fight them!”
The dignitaries in the balconies looked to the King in his deep-seated throne. He rose and spoke, “I will protect my people! The Shining City will prepare for war! As for you six, you will be confined to your inn.”
“Confined?” Karil exclaimed.
“If I could leave you with your dark evil and spare my city, know that I would throw you from my walls at this moment. However, it seems too late for such things. As it stands, you will stay out of the council’s way. As for your villagers, they are not welcome. They may stay tonight, but they must leave tomorrow—the way they entered. Fail to heed my word and see yourself forever locked below the keep!” Other dignitaries in the stand seconded the motion. Tervasian watched Gray with a snake-like grin of satisfaction.
Gray strode forward, eyeing the guards, ticking off how many there were. Fifteen. But he had already seen more throughout the palace. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he felt tendrils of air swirling at his fingertips as his eyes fogged with rage. He wanted to grip the sword and unleash its power.
Mura gripped his arm, holding him back. The hermit shook his head.
“Leave us now!” The King commanded, “The council and I have much to discuss.” The stone-faced guards approached with hands upon their pommels. He eyed the hermit and at last released his power. Flanked by steel, with the others at his side, Gray was led out of the vast chambers, dark whispers at his back.
A Hallway of Gold
IN THE WEST, THE SETTING SUN lit the dark keep. The open hallway glowed from the sun’s rays. Between the shadowed pillars and far below, Gray glimpsed the vast city.
Baked-clay houses were crammed together, sprawling into the distance. Colorful stands lined the many streets. In the heart of the city was a domed castle, easily twice as big as the Shiroku Palace. More buildings just as massive could be seen in the distance, growing like mountains in a sea of cream-colored buildings. Where am I? Gray thought, standing in the corridor’s orange light. He looked down and saw flaxen robes. The coarse weave was strangely familiar.
No use standing here, he thought and started forward. He moved through the hall that led to a wide set of stairs and he took them two at a time. He passed a few more halls when he realized what seemed so strange about the place. There were no people.
Abruptly, he stood before a door, hand upon the doorknob, though he couldn’t remember putting it there. Dread suddenly filled him. The last thing he wanted was to open the door. He tried to let go, but panicked as his grip tightened. His hand twisted and the door swung open.
A young woman knelt in the center of a dark room while black tendrils seeped along the ground. They pooled around his boots and flowed into the hallway. The woman clutched something at her chest. Morrowil. Malevolence sprouted from the sword. The woman reached out, pleading for him to save her life, but Gray was rooted to the ground, helpless. The light faded in the woman’s eyes. This is a dream! This isn’t happening! he shouted to himself, begging to wake. This is a dream! he shouted louder. Suddenly, he stood before the woman. He looked down and saw he gripped Morrowil, hands coated in blood.
The woman gave a breathless whisper, “Why?”
No, he said in horror, trying to back away.
Suddenly voices sounded from behind. Gray twisted to see men dashing down the hallway, swords raised. A gong rang, echoing in his ears—the alarm had been sounded. It was too late. He yanked at his legs, trying to pry himself free, but he was stuck. He wanted to throw Morrowil, but the blade was fused to his hand. The men drew closer, their face’s becoming clear.
Everything flashed, and the woman and the room crumbled.
“Ren…” he whispered.
Gray awoke.
He knelt before Ayva, gripping his blade. Morrowil hovered a breath away from her slender throat. He froze, muscles rigid. Ayva’s eyes flut
tered, sleeping. With held breath, he pulled away. His arm tensed and seized. Panicking, he pulled harder. A black tendril slithered beneath his flesh and he watched the muscles in his arm ripple. The sword hovered closer. “No,” he begged in a whisper. Ayva rustled in her sleep, rolling over and the razor-sharp blade skimmed a lock of hair. Gray opened his mouth to wake her and stopped… He couldn’t risk it.
He reached for the nexus. But where it once sat, there was only an abyss of darkness. The nexus was gone. Beneath him, Ayva moved restlessly again. Frantically, he moved deeper into his mind until he saw a glimmer of light. He felt pain but ignored it, racing towards the light, but the closer he got the farther it seemed. Panic rising, he opened his eyes to see tendrils slithering over his limbs, their touch like cold fire, burning. His whole body was nearly consumed in living darkness. He held back a cry of anguish as the darkness reached for his neck. It was too late. He couldn’t touch his power, and even if he could, it was clearly engulfed by the darkness. His mind desperately searched for a way out when something burned against his chest.
The pendant.
With his free hand, Gray gripped it as the darkness slithered into his mouth. He fumbled, straining to twist each piece, frozen fingers working like wooden pegs. Leaf, moon, sun, he flipped the halves into place. The darkness coated his lungs and he choked. The pendant slipped from his hand and darkness slithered over it. He wiped it with his thumb as he gasped for a breath. Stone, water, flesh… His vision faded. The last three pieces clicked into place. Suddenly, a brilliant light burst from the pendant. It shattered the darkness binding his limbs. The inky blackness skittered to the shadowy corners of the room.
He sucked in a desperate breath. Ayva shifted but slumbered, unaware. Slowly he pulled away, rising to his feet with shaky gulps of air. He looked at Ayva and decided. Silhouettes ghosted behind the paper-thin door and he froze. When they passed, he rose and began wrapping his sword. No time to waste. Dawn was only hours away.
Beside his bed upon the floor was a set of new clothes, neatly folded, compliments of Mistress Hitomi. Quickly, he dressed, throwing on the dark green tunic and black pants. He strapped his sword on his back, and pulled on his tattered gray cloak, then grabbed his pack but stopped. If anyone spotted him with his pack it would be a clear sign that he was leaving. He scanned the room when he saw the window.
He cracked it and looked out upon the main street of the city. Chill air hit his sweat-soaked skin sending a shiver down his spine when boots upon stone sounded. He ducked as a file of guards marched past. When their footfalls faded, he carefully lowered his pack onto the slick blue tiles. It slid, landing upon the road with a soft plop. Behind him, Darius sniffed. Gray tensed. At last, he heard the sound of snoring and he turned to see the rogue gripping his dagger in the folds of his worn rags, eyes closed.
Gray looked at his friends one last time. Despite his sorrow, he was glad, for he would never be the cause of their suffering again. In the end, Kail was right and Maris was wrong. He was alone.
He slid the paper door closed, tiptoeing down the hallway. Passing a screen door, he heard Mura’s saw-like snores, but he moved on. The hermit would take care of the others now, he knew, feeling content.
No noise came from the common room, but as he descended the stairs he spotted Mistress Hitomi quietly polishing pewter mugs from behind the throne of her rosewood bar. “Can’t sleep?” she asked scrubbing an already immaculate mug.
The rest of the common room was vacant, seats and tables empty, waiting for the new day. He took particular notice of the corners of the inn, but didn’t see Dorbin, the hulking brute, anywhere. They were alone. “Bad dreams,” he confessed truthfully. Mistress Hitomi took in the bundle upon his back, but without his pack, he could have just been out for a light-night stroll. “I wanted to thank you for the kindness you’ve shown my friends and me. We’ll be out of your hair soon.”
“Ah yes,” she said sadly. “Now that the king is exiling your friends, the refugees from Lakewood.”
“How’d you know?”
“I have many eyes and ears. They keep me informed,” she said mysteriously. “You definitely are a strange bunch. You know, others might be mad at you for getting the whole city in an uproar like this.”
Gray heard the rattle of boots as another file stomped down the street. “And you?” he asked, calmly. “Are you upset?”
“Why should I be?” she shrugged, “You only told that fool Katsu the truth.”
“Well, I can’t take all the credit.”
Mistress Hitomi raised a single brow, “Yes, your companions. I know many people in my line of business, but I’ve never seen friends quite like yours.”
Gray swallowed down the knot in his throat. He tried to change the subject, “I was wondering, was there any food left over from tonight?”
“Some. The roast is all gone, but you can have the vegetables and rice. I’ll get one of my girls to bring it out to you.” Gray thanked her and moments later a girl came out with the food conveniently wrapped inside a small polished wood box tied closed with strings.
He moved towards the door when Hitomi asked, “Where are you headed?” He said nothing and she smiled, returning to polishing her mugs. “Watch yourself. I have a feeling you can handle that sword of yours, but I don’t like bad things happening to good people, and I get a sense of that in the air.”
His sword was bundled in cloth and unrecognizable. “How did you know…”
“That you wield Morrowil?”
He froze.
“I saw the blade’s shimmer through the cloth,” she said. “Those books of mine are not just for decoration.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Unlikely. Like I said, I am inquisitive, but I’m not so base to flap my tongue, and I doubt any in this city would know what I know. Besides, I’ve a sense whatever you’re involved in is far over my head. Though if I could, a bit of advice?”
He nodded.
“When all seems darkest, trust yourself, for the power we carry is not in some item or sword. It lies within.” She tapped her chest, and then shrugged as if she were telling him the weather. “That’s all.”
“You are a wise woman,” he said quietly. “Mura was right.” With that, he turned and took to the night.
* * *
Gray breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing his pack, and he threw it on, sliding his sword beneath.
The streets were quiet, but he could hear the rhythmic march of more soldiers in the distance, nearing. Standing in the shadows, he wondered who knew about their confined status. It seemed unlikely that every solider knew at this early stage, but he didn’t want to test his theory.
Sticking to the shadows he took the nearby alley. Slipping around the corner, he came to a three-way fork surrounded by moonlit sakura trees, their flowers a dim red in the night. On either side, sat quiet marbled houses. Gray settled on the alley before him, paralleling the main road, which would lead him to the gates of the city. When he heard a voice.
She held his face with twisted lace,
Close enough to kiss and not enough to miss,
But instead of a sweet old pucker,
Ole’ Tompson got a sucker!
Duck and dodge she did, and ran away
With his whole pay, to find some other fodder!
A figure shifted in the shade of one of the trees, and a face appeared. Balder. In one hand, he nibbled on a strange fruit, and in the other he held a ceramic urn.
Gray strode forward, “What are you doing out here?”
“Evening,” Balder said and gestured to the starless sky. “I often sit here to watch the moon. I think the real question is what are you doing out here? And what’s with the pack?”
More boots echoed in the distance and Gray swiveled to the sound.
“I see,” Balder said slowly, “Well then, where are we going?”
He ignored the question. “Are you going to tell the others?”
“Only if you do
n’t tell me where we’re going.”
“I can’t tell you, Balder.”
“I see. Then let me ask, just how are you planning to get out of here?” The stonemason leaned back against the tree, resting his hands behind his head. “I suppose you could have done whatever it was you did before to cross the impasse, maybe two hours ago, but that time has passed. By now the gates are locked down tighter than a Landerian seal of marble, and crawling like a kicked hornet’s nest with soldiers. They won’t let anyone through, especially not someone held captive by order of his majesty.”
Gray scowled. He knew the stonemason was right, and he also knew he was hiding something as well. “How do I get out, Balder?”
“What makes you think I know a way out?”
“You claim to have created this city from the ground up. Surely you know a way out.”
“Ah, so now you need the grand stonemason?” He said and brushed his coat. “Recognition at last!”
“Balder, I don’t have time for this! The others could find out I’m missing any moment.”
The stonemason tapped his lips in thought. “You’re right. From the little I’ve seen, I’d guess that boy and young woman would follow you to Death’s Gate itself. But what is this plan of yours? Some sort of heroic solitary undertaking?”
“Does it matter?” he asked.
“They will be upset that you left them, you know that.”
“There are things at work you don’t understand, Balder,” he said quietly, “I have to leave.”
The stonemason peered at him curiously. “I see. Those eyes of yours have taken on a different set. It seems you’ve found what you were looking for. So be it, I will help, but first I’ve a request. Would you mind terribly saying my full title?”
Gray gave a deep bow, twirling his hand. “Balder the Magnificent, the most glorious of builders, who would never use a saerian bond, and is the true leader of the prestigious Stonemason’s Guild… would you please help me?”
Balder raised the ceramic urn to his lips and a clear liquid sloshed out. Then he stood and threw the urn against a nearby tree. It shattered noisily. “No more of that tonight, got to keep our wits about us. No time to waste chatting either, let’s get going!” The stonemason set off down the road, opposite where Gray had been planning to go.