Rise of the Nightkings

by Levi Samuel

  Quickly tying the rope to the bannister, Inyalia pulled hard, ensuring it would hold. “Follow me as quick as you can.” Inyalia slung her bow and jumped over the ledge, catching the rope. Swinging her weight, she hooked her feet over it and crossed her ankles. Dangling, she pulled herself toward Mountain Heart, letting the rope slide along the side of her leather boot.

  “Go on, lad. I’m a bit heavier than the both o’ ye combined. I’ll wait fer her ta get ta the other side.”

  Tylor nodded his understanding and mounted the rope. It stretched quite a bit but remained solid. Within a few moments, Tylor was right behind her.

  Inyalia reached the chain mount and climbed from the rope. She could feel Mountain Heart swaying beneath her. It wouldn’t last much longer. She only hoped they were out of the way when it decided to fall. Reaching out, she grabbed Tylor’s hand and pulled him up beside her. Looking across the gap, she was surprised Gailen hadn’t started across yet. “Come on! We only have a few minutes before this thing’s going to fall!”

  Gailen smiled and unslung his axe. “Go on without me, lass. Ye’re gonna need yer rope, and I need ta stay with me people!” Giving no room for argument, Gailen slammed the blade of his axe down, severing the knot. The rope fell free, losing little more than a few inches.

  “Gailen!” Inyalia lunged forward, hoping to somehow stop him. He was doomed if he didn’t come. There was no certainty her plan was even going to work, but at least they’d go out trying if it didn’t.

  Tylor caught Inyalia, pulling her toward him. “He’s made his decision. We have to keep moving. What’s next?”

  Inyalia sniffed, wiping the tears from her face. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the rope toward her and removed the arrow, returning it to her quiver. Grabbing the dwarven made grappling hook, Inyalia tied it off and began swinging it in an underhand arc. She slowly let the rope out, increasing the arc until it reached maximum size. Timing it out, she released, watching it soar across the void and hook around one of the massive chain links. Pulling tight, she patted her hip, silently telling Tylor to grab hold and hang on. This was going to be the hardest part of her plan. She only hoped it worked. Stealing a final glance across the void, her eyes fell on Gailen. He hadn’t been a friend for long, but she would remember him for the rest of her life. They shared a long stare, saying more in silence than they could have with words.

  Taking a deep breath, Inyalia rocked backward as far as she dared, feeling Tylor move in unison with her.

  Together, they charged forward and leapt, keeping the rope taut. It was a bit more of a drop than either of them had prepared for, but the rope caught soon after their feet left the iron mount. They swung through the void, unable to see what was below, while everything about began to disappear. The rumble grew louder as another section collapsed, raining dust and stone upon them.

  Inyalia glanced up, seeing the city’s core begin its final descent. She felt a pang of guilt when it crashed into Gailen’s villa. The mansion exploded beneath the weight. They needed to get out of the way or it would treat them in a similar fashion. Reaching the lowest point of the swing, Inyalia could see the flashes clearer than ever. Her guess had been right. Silently thanking the guardians for protecting her, she released the rope.

  Falling through the air, Inyalia realized Tylor was no longer holding onto her. He’d been there moments earlier. Spinning uncontrollably, she searched, but he was nowhere to be seen. Just then, she impacted the surface. It forced the air from her lungs. She felt like she’d hit solid rock, but rock wouldn’t swallow her the way this had. Gasping for breath, Inyalia’s mouth filled with water and she began to sink beneath the rushing liquid. She needed to control herself now more than ever. If she panicked, she’d inhale water and drown. She couldn’t let that happen. She’d been through too much.

  Kicking as hard as she could, trying to focus on the shimmers of burning light above the surface, she felt her lungs reach their capacity. Unable to break through, she knew she was done. After everything, she was going to drown.

  A pair of hands tore through the freezing cold and latched onto her shoulder straps. They ripped her through the water, closer to the twinkling light overhead. Inyalia saw Tylor’s face through the rippling liquid. Breeching the surface, she expelled the water filling her mouth and drew air in huge gouts. Panting, she felt him lay her across something solid. Coughing, desperate to expel the water she’d swallowed, Inyalia rolled to her side, seeing what it was they were laying upon.

  It appeared to be a large paddlewheel that had broken from its axle and gotten wedged between the rocks.

  Looking around, Inyalia saw several others, turning casually in the flowing river. She knew the city’s lifts and doors were water powered. Gailen had told her that much, but she hadn’t fully understood it until this moment.

  Coughing the last bit of water from her, Inyalia forced herself to breathe through her nose. It was the only way to restore control. Finally, she sat up and turned to Tylor. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “You nearly had. My leg got caught in the rope. I managed to cut myself free just before I crashed into the wall. You owe me a dagger by the way.” Tylor smiled, though it was interrupted by a loud crash overhead.

  Inyalia glanced up, seeing the stone core tear through the floor. It was coming down faster than ever. They needed to move. Inyalia jumped to her feet as quick as her body would allow. Fear and confusion placed a heavy tax, making every action twice as difficult. Running for the edge of the overturned paddlewheel, she dove into the water and swam for the distance.

  Mountain Heart crashed into the massive river, filling the void. A huge wave flowed out from it, raising the level nearly fifty feet.

  Arm over arm, kicking as hard as her legs would allow, Inyalia tried to outswim the coming wave. It was lifting them faster than she could move. And soon, it would throw them over the edge, crushing anything unfortunate enough to be in its path. There was only one more option, and it was likely suicide. Timing her words between strokes, Inyalia shouted to Tylor. “We—can’t—outrun—it.—Have—to—take—shelter.” She altered course, moving parallel to the encroaching wave.

  It took Tylor a moment to see what she had in mind. The water level was rising dangerously fast. Fortunately, the dwarves had taken that into account when they built the waterwheels. Each one was fixed to a shaft that could raise or lower depending on the river’s level. It was going to be close, but the chance of survival was much higher than trying to surf the wave inside a rocky canyon.

  Inyalia reached the wooden wheel. It continued to spin, faster than ever with the increased flow. Grabbing hold of the spokes, Inyalia felt herself being tumbled through the water. She had no idea how many times she’d gone around, but she finally managed to climb between them. Inside the wooden device wasn’t much better. Were she not holding on for dear life, she had no doubt it would beat her to death in a matter of seconds. That was provided she didn’t blackout from dizziness first. Aside from that, the hardest challenge was timing her breath. It took many revolutions to realize that she had to suck in the moment the water released her. If not, she’d miss her chance to catch a breath.

  Tylor treaded just outside the large wooden wheel. Seeing Inyalia make her way inside, he gave her a moment to get situated. The wave would be upon him any moment. Out of time, he latched onto the spokes and attempted to pull himself inside.

  Something heavy crashed into the water beside them, breaking the wave for the briefest moment. Splintered wood showered the area, and the wheel came loose.

  Both Tylor and Inyalia held on to anything they could, their wheel thrashing at the cap of the wave. It hit the wall, toppling over. Jarred loose, they collided with one another, slamming into the sides and spokes, unable to make heads or tails of anything. It flipped and spun too rapidly to grant breath, not that the rushing waters were willing to offer it in the first place. The wheel slammed into a stone causeway and began to break apart. Piece by piece, it abandoned t
hem until there was nothing left to provide shelter. Separated and alone, the water swallowed them and the world went dark.

  The low hum of rapidly beating wings echoed somewhere in the distance. Feeling something land on her face, Inyalia brushed it away. Slowly opening her eyes, a sea of dark rolling clouds greeted her. Her body ached. She was bruised and battered from the memories rapidly returning to her. Grunting, she rolled to her side and looked around.

  She was lying in a shallow pool of mud. The ground had been washed out, laying over stalks of grass and trees alike. A shallow creek snaked through the earth not far from where she lay, though whatever water had once flowed through it had long stopped. It seemed the bulk had continued downstream, leaving little pockets here and there that had yet to soak in.

  Wincing, Inyalia pushed herself up, her hands sinking into the soggy ground. Getting to her feet proved quite the chore. She was out of breath, feeling as if she’d just escaped a squadron of rangers. Mud clung to her armor, pressed between layers and caked to the stitching. She ran her hands over it in a desperate attempt to knock it away, though her efforts proved folly. All she managed was to smear it further.

  Peering into the sky, the dense clouds blocked out any sign of the sun. It was bright enough to suggest daytime, but there was no way to determine if early dusk or dawn was nearer. Either way, there appeared to be a storm on the horizon, and if the speed of the clouds was any indicator, it was moving fast.

  Unable to intuit direction, Inyalia searched her surroundings for any significant landmarks. Considering she’d washed out of the mountain, locating that would be a start. Turning, Inyalia saw the wall of rock not far in the distance. She was maybe a thirty-minute walk, which seemed quite impressive considering she didn’t remember anything after the paddlewheel came apart. What surprised her further, the hole in which she guessed was her exit had been filled. It was pretty evident water had flowed from it, but now stone spouted from the hole, running in a smooth column that spilled to the earth. The surrounding trees had burnt to ash, leaving nothing but charred wood encompassed in stone.

  Inyalia stared at it for a long moment, wondering how she’d survived. But the mountains were of little concern now. She’d been carried away from them, which meant Tylor had to be further down river.

  Inspecting her bow, she was pleased to see it survived the tumble wheel, though she couldn’t say the same for the bulk of her arrows. Two of the blunt tips, four of the dwarven arrows, one of which was broken, and her special arrow were all that remained. Moreover, her pack was nowhere to be seen. Sighing, Inyalia unslung her bow and gave it a test draw to ensure it would function properly. It’d been through a lot. She couldn’t risk it failing her in a moment of crisis. But that seemed to be the story of her life recently. One crisis after another. Confident it would perform, Inyalia drew one of the dwarven arrows and set out in search of Tylor.

  Inyalia walked for hours, keeping an eye on the sky. It remained a constant shade of gray, never growing darker nor brighter. She had a feeling when night came, it would happen suddenly and without warning.

  Following the path of uprooted trees and drowned vegetation, the stalks all pointed one direction, serving as a guide in the wake of destruction before her. The creek was all but nonexistent here, having grown in size to a small river in places and shrunk to little more than a stream at others. This was one of those places. The ground was nearly flat, all but the winding path where the water had eroded over time. Unfortunately, that also meant the flood spread wide when it came through, requiring her to do a wider sweep.

  Inyalia had found a few pieces of curved and broken wood a few miles back. It could have belonged to the paddlewheel, but there was no guarantee. Theirs hadn’t been the only one to break free, so it could have been any of them. Or it could have been part of a discarded barrel that got picked up somewhere along the way. There was no telling.

  Cresting a hill, Inyalia paused, seeing the remnants of a fair size village resting along the trickle of water that cascaded gently down the path. The settlement was in ruin. Most of the buildings had long since collapsed upon themselves, while others retained only their stone walls and bricked chimneys. There were a few that had thatch roofs and wooden doors still intact, but they were few and far between. The flood had hit this place pretty hard, but from the looks of it, there wasn’t much left to damage.

  Keeping her bow at the ready, Inyalia made for the ruined village. Tylor could have ended up at any one of them, though with the distance she’d traveled, she was beginning to fear for his wellbeing. At any case, she couldn’t move on until confirming his fate one way or another.

  The first row of buildings were utterly destroyed. Piles of debris were scattered from the water’s impact. Inyalia had no idea if they’ve fallen before or after the flood, but it didn’t much matter. With the condition of this place, no one had lived here for several cycles, if that soon.

  Inspecting the scattered rubble, Inyalia caught a glimpse of broken wood embedded in a partial wall. Moving closer, she knocked a few of the stones aside. To her surprise, they weighed next to nothing, more like plaster than stone. Moving a few others, she uncovered what was left of the center portion of a paddlewheel. The spokes were splintered where they’d broken, but there was no mistaking its origin. That renewed her hope. If the paddlewheel had traveled this far, it was possible Tylor had as well. She only hoped he was still alive.

  A faint whistle traveled through the air, seeming at peace with everything in the world.

  Drawing back the string, arrow ready to fly, Inyalia cautiously stepped away from the shattered building. Rounding another, in search of the unexpected sound, she saw a man crouched before the small stream. He wore tattered robes of gray that appeared to have been elegant at one time. Though now they were coated in dirt and torn in many places. The fabric was thin from age, displaying pock-marked skin beneath.

  Continuing his song, the man dipped a wooden bucket into the shallow water. Watching it fill, he slowly tilted it, collecting as much as possible without allowing debris to enter. Lifting the bucket, he quit whistling and stood. “Are you going to point that thing at me all day, or step forward and introduce yourself?”

  Inyalia was taken back. How did he know she was there? He hadn’t looked her direction, and she hadn’t made a sound. It was possible he could smell her, but unlikely. If being carried in a flood and washed out of a mountain hadn’t removed any scent she’d been carrying, nothing would. Though she had been walking for a few hours. Seeing the man turn to face her, Inyalia lowered her bow. For his age, his voice was surprisingly full of youth. She squinted, trying to identify where she’d seen him before. “I know you. I saw you in Caelum when I met the Emerald Circle. They called you the—.”

  “The Watcher, yes.” The old man smiled and slowly approached. “My name is Kael.” He extended his shaky hand. “And you’re Inyalia Highlor of Trendensil, if my memory is still intact.”

  “I am.” Inyalia shook his hand, uncertain what to say. She’d heard the stories of this man. Many said he was the founder of Caelum, creating the Emerald Circle as a means to prolong his life and share the burden. Others thought him a crazy man who enjoyed feeling involved. Among all the questions racing through her mind, a single one found its way to her lips. “What happened to you?” She recognized the face before her. There was no mistaking it. But the man she’d seen in Caelum was at least a few hundred cycles younger. This man was nearing the end of his life.

  Kael gestured for her to follow. He turned and slowly made his way toward one of the few buildings that remained intact. “I assume you’re referring to my rugged good looks.” A weak chuckle escaped him. “I’m afraid I don’t have enough time to spin that tale. But I’ll answer what I can over dinner.”

  Inyalia paused. “Oh? I’m sorry, but I can’t stay here. I’m looking for my friend. I think you know him. His name’s Tyl—.”

  Kael held up a hand, silencing her. Reaching the wooden door, he push
ed it open and pointed inside.

  Inyalia stepped forward and looked into the single room hovel. In the center of the room there was a small table, set with wooden plates, mugs, and eating utensils. Two chairs were pushed under the opposing ends, though the one closest to the door sat at an angle, suggesting it had been used recently. A stone fireplace had been built into the right-side wall. From an iron rod, hung a blackened kettle that steam seeped from. A small fire burned beneath it, though there was no wood or smoke evident. Raising a questioning eyebrow, Inyalia looked upon the old man, unsure what he was attempting to show her.

  “Look again. Only this time, without expectation.”

  Taking a deep breath, Inyalia returned her focus to the room. It was as it had been, only there were more questions than answers. She saw a broom sweeping the floor by itself. It fell still when it noticed her looking. There was a block of cheese on the table, rocking itself across a grader. Slithers fell into a bowl beneath it. A painting of an open field hung on the wall, seemingly uninteresting until the wind blew, swaying the stocks of grain inside it. And, laying upon an old wooden bed to the left, was Tylor. He appeared to be sleeping, and surprisingly in one piece, though a blood-soaked bandage was wrapped around his forehead. She watched his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. Returning her attention to the man, tears began to well in her eyes. “He’s alive!” She smiled, throwing her arms around Kael.

  “Oh!” The old man gasp, catching the sudden and unexpected weight. Unsure what to do, he gently patted her back, allowing her a moment to collect herself. “As I was saying, I’d be more than happy to answer some of your questions over dinner.”

  Chapter XVI

  The Fractured Pieces

  “I can’t believe this is all that’s left!” Inyalia set the mug of broth on the table, lost in the old man’s words.