Rise of the Nightkings

by Levi Samuel

  Kael let out a defeated sigh. “I wish it weren’t so. I did everything in my power to stop it. These ruins are all that’s left of my beloved Caelum.” Perking up, he took a long draw, clenching the mug in both hands. “But, I’m confident I would have done no different, were I faced with the same decisions again.”

  Staring deep into the youthful eyes of the deteriorating body before her, Inyalia felt sorrow. Kael had devoted his life to the pursuit of knowledge, both his own and others. He’d sacrificed so much to ensure everyone made it out. And most would never even know about it. “I admire you.” A smile came to Inyalia’s lips. Glancing over to Tylor, for what had to have been the hundredth time, she wondered if their stories would ever be so grand. “There’s one part I don’t understand.”

  Kael brought the brim to his lips once again, awaiting her question.

  “You said you sacrificed all of your power to slow the corruption. So, how do you do that?” Inyalia pointed to the dancing flame beneath the kettle.

  “Ah! Well—,” Kael paused, searching for a way to explain it in a manner she’d understand. “There are many types of magic. Some work together, others don’t mix at all, and there are a few that seem like magic to the untrained eye, but are something else entirely. Take the Hall of Guardians for instance. It seems like magic, but it’s not. The secret of the halls is held in the crystalline stone found only in those mountains. Like the arrow you carry, it acts like magic, but it’s far more powerful. My people called it psionics. It’s a rare and powerful force that can both create and destroy worlds. But it’s far different than magic. When Caelum fell, I gave everything I had to her preservation. But it wasn’t enough. My city, my youth, even my friends. All of it disappeared in a few heartbeats. All I have left is a few more hours, and the psionics I was born to. They’re as much a part of me as the skin wrapped around this dying form. I expended everything to save Caelum. And when I awoke, my psionics had returned, though nothing else did.” Kael fell silent, lost in thought.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you.”

  A faint smile appeared, and Kael slid his chair away from the table to stand. “What’s done is done. I failed them. I must accept that. My only hope is they passed easily. There’s nothing more horrendous than having your body torn apart by uncontrolled magics.” Making his way to the kettle, Kael scooped another ladle of broth into his mug.

  “Well, I for one am happy to have met you. I wish it wasn’t so close to the end, but you make it sound almost like a reward.”

  “Oh, it is. When you’ve lived as long as I, seen and done as many things, and narrowly escaped certain doom on many occasions, death is but another adventure I have yet to experience.” Laughing, as if a joke had just been told that only he understood, Kael returned to his seat. “Speaking of which, it’s time for me to go. I wish you the best in your travels, Inyalia Highlor. I expect you’ll do many great and wonderful things.” He stood, keeping his gaze locked firmly upon her. “Before I go, I wish to impart a gift. Would you be so kind as to retrieve your dark crystal arrow?”

  Inyalia pulled the white feathered missile from her quiver and handed it to him.

  Turning the pristine instrument in his hand, Kael thoroughly inspected every inch of the blackened bolt. The head began to glow a bright purple, ebbing under his touch. Closing his eyes, he flipped it end over end several times, walking the shaft between his bony fingers. It came to a stop, fletching side extended toward Inyalia, awaiting her to reclaim it. “Thank you. I’m afraid I really must be going now. Your friend will be ready for travel in the morning.”

  Inyalia wanted to call out to him. She wanted to say anything to make him stay. He’d been a welcome relief. But none of it mattered. He was gone before the words could escape her mouth. Taking a deep breath, Inyalia glanced at the firepit. The magical flame that had danced all night was gone. The broom rested against the wall, refusing to move. And everything mystical in her life was gone. Everything except the arrow in her hand.

  Turning to Tylor, Inyalia lifted the crusty-red bandage. She was pleased to see the wound was nearly healed. Whatever Kael had done was clearly working. She just had to wait until morning. Ensuring the blanket was securely covering him, she approached the wicker chair at the foot of the bed and took a seat. Getting comfortable, her eyes closed, and she drifted off to sleep.

  Tylor slowly came to. He was warm. That was a luxury he hadn’t experienced in quite some time. But more than that, he was comfortable. Laying there a moment longer, wishing to somehow preserve it, he sighed and pulled the blanket off him. Opening his eyes, he sat up and looked around the small hovel, trying to remember where he was. It was no use. He’d never seen this place before. Seeing Inyalia asleep at the foot of the bed, a smile came to his lips. He wanted nothing more than to let her rest. They’d been through so much already, the least he could do was give her a while longer.

  Kicking his feet to the warm floorboards, Tylor stood and made his way to the table at the center of the room. It was loaded with the remnants of a decent meal that had long since gone cold. The room was mostly empty save for a few odds and ends lying about. Near the edge of the table, Tylor found a wooden pail half full of water. He dipped his hands and began washing his face. The cold water clung to his skin, both waking him and making him feel revived. Reaching his forehead, it soaked into the wrapped bandage. He hadn’t noticed it until now. Probing the area, Tylor searched for any sign of damage. There was no pain, and he couldn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. Finding the end, he carefully removed the dressing. If it was covering a wound, he didn’t want to risk reopening it.

  The blood stains brought concern. How was he not in pain? The realization made him freeze. “I’m not in pain.” He repeated aloud trying to make it make sense. His head didn’t hurt, not where the bandage had been, nor anywhere else. His body didn’t ache, and best of all, his knee felt as if nothing had ever happened. He felt as if every injury he’d ever suffered had somehow vanished overnight. Lost in the moment, Tylor began stripping from his clothes, wiping the cold water over his body. It was refreshing, but mostly he wanted to check for any lingering wounds whose persistence was strangely absent.

  Hopping on one leg, his other foot in his hands, Tylor caught a glimpse of Inyalia still asleep in the chair. He’d completely forgotten about her presence. Cheeks flushing red, he nearly fell. Scurrying to his clothes, he pulled them on, unconcerned that he was still wet. He was embarrassed. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other before. But that time was a bit different. And they were both conscious, and being taken prisoner. The latter probably had more to do with it.

  Awkwardly, Tylor looked about the room, searching for anything worthy to be called food. Inyalia had done so much to take care of him. The least he could do was ensure there was something to eat when she awoke. And be clothed. Clothing was a must.

  Between the rations the dwarves had given him, and a small box of dried oats resting on the table, Tylor believed there was just enough to make a breakfast fit for a king. A poor king, but a king none the less. Scrounging some wood, he went to work building a fire under the kettle and emptied what remained of its contents. Rinsing it out, he added all the clean water he could find and brought it to a boil. Pouring in the oats and dried boar, he gave it a quick stir and waited.

  An aroma of meat and dwarven spice filled the hovel as the mixture returned to a boil.

  Inyalia shifted in her chair, the scent rousing her. Looking around, she found Tylor near the fireplace, tending the kettle. She sat up, pulling the blanket she’d covered herself with away. She’d forgotten to remove her armor before bed, but it was just as well. As rapidly as things were happening lately, sleeping in it was the only way to ensure she was ready if a quick exit was required. Moreover, she was surprised it hadn’t hindered her. Sleeping in armor was a surefire way to wake up sore the following morning. Its ridged nature meant it couldn’t flex, which kept the body from relaxing overnight. These were
all elements her new armor didn’t seem to possess. Stretching, Inyalia picked herself up and approached Tylor. Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged tight, pressing the side of her face against his back. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  Tylor placed his hand over her forearm, returning her hug as best he could. “I feel great. Though I’m afraid I’m going to have to stop running around with you. You’re bad for my health.” He laughed at his joke, drawing a spoonful of porridge to his lips. Blowing across it gently, he took a sip, savoring the smoky flavor of meat combined with the sweet dwarven spice.

  Realizing she’d held onto him a little too long, Inyalia broke away and made her way to the table, hoping he didn’t notice her embarrassment. “Do you remember how you got here?”

  Happy with the results, Tylor scooped the food into a pair of bowls and carried them to the table. “No. I remember the paddlewheel crashing, and a few moments trying to catch my breath. But the rest of it is gone.” Setting a bowl in front of the young ranger, he pulled out the other chair and dug in.

  Inyalia watched him for a long moment before turning to her own bowl. “You were rescued by The Watcher.”

  Tylor stared over the brim of his meal. If The Watcher had been here, why were they still here? With is power, he could have seen them back to Camruun City without a second thought. “Where is he?”

  “Gone.” Inyalia lingered on the word for a moment. She was happy to have shared his final few hours, but now that he had departed, he was just another loss added to the ever-growing list. “Caelum was destroyed. He gave everything trying to protect it, including his own life.”

  Giving her his full attention, Tylor stared at her blankly. “How did he pull me from the water if he sacrificed himself?”

  “It’s a long story. I didn’t understand most of it. When I met him, he said he only had a few hours left. He took my arrow and did something to it. And then he was—gone.” Inyalia gestured, trying to relay the message better than her words could.

  “That’s a shame. I only spoke with him once, but he seemed like a good guy.”

  Nodding her agreement, Inyalia lifted her bowl and took a sip of the chunky concoction. It was sweet, with a hint of spice. “We’re east of the mountains.” Inyalia added, as if somehow their whereabouts was important to their situation. She wanted to get home, but it seems so far away. There was only one road that led into Trendensil, and it was nearly a month south.

  “Do you know where the nearest city is? If we can barter a couple horses—.”

  Inyalia cut him off. “What do we have to barter? The only things I have left are on me. And seeing the treasures the dwarves value, I doubt they slipped a handful of gold into your pack.” Shaking her head, wishing there was another way, Inyalia swallowed the last bit of her food. “No. We’re on our own. This far outside Trendensil, the only thing our status would buy is a mediocre ransom.”

  Tylor smiled. He couldn’t help but admire the way Inyalia’s nose crinkled when she was worried. Reaching across the table, he laid his hand atop hers. “Hey, we’re going to be okay. Even if we have to walk. Icefall Pass is what, south of here? If we stay near the mountains, we’ll reach it soon enough. Once through, its three days to Dragon Sanctum. We can report in there. With everything that’s happened, I doubt anyone would object to us taking a little longer to get home.”

  Inyalia smiled, though she had trouble finding comfort in his words. He meant well. And his presence was comforting. But she’d never been this far from home before. And certainly, never for so long. Adding another month to the journey felt like a lifetime.

  Pulled from her thoughts, Inyalia felt a strange vibration from her quiver. It moved of its own accord, like something was trying to get out. Yanking her hand free from Tylor’s, she grabbed the tail of its strap and ripped it free of the buckles that held it stationary. The quiver came free, jumping about in her grip.

  Grabbing the handful of arrows, Inyalia instantly knew which one was causing the commotion. The arrow Kael had touch was glowing as bright as ever. The purple light was near blinding. Lifting it, Inyalia heard Kael’s voice. It was as clear as if he’d been standing beside her.

  “My gift to you.”

  Lightning shot from the arrowhead, crackling in the air in front of the door. Only instead of disappearing the way normal lightning did, it remained in front of them, forking in all directions, growing denser. The blinding light became more intense. Bolts of purple energy arced, contained between floor and ceiling. With nowhere else to travel, it grew wider, blocking off the doorway. The wooden barrier behind it began to distort, breaking into several pieces. Piece by piece, it fell away, revealing something else, somewhere else, within the gaps. Faster, the pieces changed, and with a loud crack, it solidified, leaving an opening wreathed in crackling bolts of energy. Inside, was the last thing either of them had expected to see. Camruun City’s main gate stood a short walk away.

  Inyalia stared blankly at the opening, lost for action. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to say. Slowly, she stared at the arrow within her grasp, realizing the head had reverted to its dormant state. Returning it to her quiver, she turned to Tylor, equally stunned. “I guess this saves us quite the trip.”

  “I suppose so.”

  Inyalia buckled the straps of her quiver and returned it to its rightful place. Grabbing her bow, she started toward the opening.

  “Are you sure it’s safe to go through? What if it’s a trap?” Tylor couldn’t take his eyes off it. He’d seen many portals before. He’d even used a few from time to time. But this was unlike any portal he’d ever seen.

  “It’s safe. Consider it a final parting gift from The Watcher.” Inyalia smiled at him and stepped through.

  Camruun City stood before them, displaying its grand majesty. Never before had the gates been closed. That was part of the city’s appeal. It was a place for the people, open to any elf who sought admittance. Status was irrelevant. Nobles and commoners alike were welcome. So why were the gates closed now?

  Inyalia slowly approached the guarded post. Sentinels were everywhere. Some paced the allure, other stood outside the gate, watching the newcomers. There were even a few bowmen in the turrets, though from their appearance, Inyalia wasn’t sure most of them knew which way the arrow went.

  Tylor stopped just before reaching the first set of guards. “What’s happened? Why are the gates closed?”

  The elven watchman looked the pair over. “You two must’ve been living under a rock. I would’ve imagined a pair of rangers would have more details than the rest of us.” Shaking his head, the guard signaled behind him and the portcullis slowly began to rise. “There’s been a few attacks at the southern border. And something’s happened out west, but nothing official’s been announced. The higher ups thought it best to seal the gates until further notice. I’m afraid not much else has come down the pipeline.”

  “Thanks for the update. I assume we’re free to enter?”

  The guard nodded and stepped aside.

  Tylor and Inyalia passed through the fortified entrance. The usual splendor of visiting the city was gone. It had always seemed so grand and elegant. The sunlight always reflected off the golden turrets about the outer wall and citadel. There were a few other buildings that could be seen for miles, but they didn’t compare when taking it in as a whole. But now, the glow was absent. Camruun City had always been a bright and lively beacon of everything that was right in the world. But now it was cold and gloomy. Everything from the rolling clouds above, to the golden streets below seemed dull.

  Inyalia watched the people as they passed. Most never paid any attention beyond their immediate interest. But now, every eye in sight was set upon them, questioning their presence, asking what was happening. It was uncomfortable.

  The main road traveled straight to Aceldon Citadel, passing through several gateways that, like the main gate, were always open but were now sealed. The gatehouses were little more than massive ar
chways that served in both beauty and defense. But the citadel was not their destination. They needed to get to the Ranger’s Stronghold in the Military District.

  Passing several small roads, Inyalia was shocked by how barren the trade district was. It was the largest section in Camruun City, stretching from the main gate to the first archway, and extending beyond both sides of the grand wall that ran through the city’s center. When she’d visited in the past, it seemed so crowded and full of excitement. The east half was always filled with traders of all kind, offering the finest wares, fresh produce, livestock, and an assortment of other goods. The west side was where all the shops were located. Inyalia recalled visiting the smithy when her father needed to replace the bellows on his fletcher’s forge. She couldn’t see the store fronts from the main road, but judging by the relatively small number of people, it was unlikely any were open. But it wasn’t the closed shops nor the lack of tradesmen that had her concerned. It was the few people still about. She’d seen their expressions once before, but never so close to home. She recalled it when Deep Rock City fell. These people, her people, were scared.

  Nearing the end of the main road, just before the first archway, they turned left, skirting the northern edge of the craftsman’s square. From here it was a straight shot into the Military District.

  Inyalia recalled the path from her childhood. It seemed so long ago, and so much had happened since then. But the walk was the same, save for the gloom that had settled over the city. The Military District always seemed so big. It was, but it was also spread out, which made it less intimidating.

  Approaching the archway that separated the district from the rest of the city, Inyalia glanced down the road to her left. It served as a divide between the trade and military districts. Once it passed through the noble quarter, it circled around and led to the southern entrance, where the magi sector was located. There wasn’t much that direction other than a bunch of manors and a few of the more expensive shops.