Rise of the Nightkings

by Levi Samuel

  Picking herself up, Inyalia looked around. Numerous iron ports in the ceiling displayed what was left of the daylight, though the constant cloud cover kept it mild at best. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Approaching the first one, Inyalia peeked through the holes, stealing a glance of the city streets. Due to the angle, her view was somewhat limited, but she could tell they were just inside the wall. She could see the back of an orc, standing not far from the drain. They’d have to be quiet. Sound was certain to travel down here, and anyone standing near one of the ports was bound to hear them.

  Tylor stopped beside her. Glancing up, he signed in Ranger’s Speak.

  Inyalia nodded and returned sign. Not here. Enemies present. Find new location. Go there.

  Tylor nodded. Taking lead, he marched down the corridor, occasionally scratching the sidewall with his dagger. He didn’t know how big this place was, but knowing the way out was crucial to their survival.

  They walked for nearly an hour, inspecting each grate they came to. Some had iron spikes driven into the wall, which made looking out much easier. But most didn’t offer such luxury. The sunlight was rapidly fading, allowing even less through the vent holes. If they didn’t find their query soon, it would be too dark to do so. They’d have to spend the night here and try again in the morning. It was simply too dangerous to combat an unknown enemy when they knew next to nothing about them.

  Lorena approached the next port. Pausing, she tested the limits of her magic around it. This one was different. Smiling, she waved Inyalia and Tylor over. “This one radiates magic. I’m willing to bet its right outside the college.”

  “Why do you say that? Inyalia spoke in a whisper.

  “Same reason the doors to a tower are guarded. If someone goes in or out, the proper authorities want to know about it. This being a college, can you think of a better escape than through the sewers?”

  Inyalia thought for a moment. She was guilty of her own mischief on occasion. Sneaking out of a magic school seemed pretty difficult. But she wasn’t a mage. If she was, such a thing was probably the equivalent of locking a door. It didn’t make it impossible to bypass, just a bit more complex. “Can you get through it?”

  A soft glow emitted from Lorena’s hands. It didn’t produce much light, which was good. Nothing said here we are like a glowing beacon. Carefully, she probed the area around the grate. Each time her hand made contact, the glow jumped, displaying a complex series of markings and sigils. They disappeared nearly as quick. Touching two places at the same time, Lorena drug her hands toward the center. She appeared to be struggling with some unseen force. Her fists clenched, she pulled them together, locking a single hand around the hidden barrier. Using her free hand, she shoved it to the sky and twisted.

  The sigils came into view, flashing for the briefest moment. And then they were gone.

  “The lock has been disabled. But I can reset it if I have to.”

  Inyalia looked for the iron spikes, but it seemed this one didn’t have them.

  Tylor crouched and interlocked his fingers.

  Inyalia stepped into his hand, balancing herself against his shoulder. Standing, she peeked through the grate, pleased to see it was relatively unguarded. There were two orcs across the street, but they were facing the other direction. Holding the iron device, she signaled Tylor to turn around. She needed to make sure they were clear all directions before heading up.

  Tylor waddled around, giving her a full turn.

  Inyalia signaled and jumped down. “It’s clear. Only guards are the two we saw four grates ago. But they’re facing the other way. Lorena was right. We’re right in front of the college.”

  “All right. This is where we’re going up. We need to be quick. Once we get inside, if we encounter any orcs, take them out as silent and as fast as you can. We can’t afford to let them alert the others.” Seeing their understanding, Tylor reached up and lifted the grate. It came free with relative ease. Carefully, he slid it to the side and stepped aside, locking his fingers once again.

  Inyalia stepped up and jumped through the hole. Pulling herself up, she rolled and took a defensive position, watching for any orcs. She had two arrows nocked and aimed. It was a complex shot, but not difficult. She’d been training herself to fire multiple arrows since she was seven. So far, she could fire three, two of which hit with complete accuracy. The third usually hit, but it was about a foot off target. With a little more practice, she had no doubt she could work her way to five at once. But that was some time off.

  Lorena appeared through the hole, landing flat-footed on the street. No sooner than her feet connected, she moved into the shadow under the college’s portico. Summoning her energies, she attempted to cloak herself. The spell didn’t work. Moving toward Inyalia, she leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “We have a bit of a problem. My magic isn’t working here.”

  “Why not?”

  Lorena pointed to the college. “Warded.” Falling back, she returned to her shadow and began working on the entrance. To her surprise, it wasn’t locked.

  Raemus climbed through the hole. Getting to his feet, he scanned the area. Nothing required his immediate attention. Content, he approached the college, falling in with the mage.

  There was a bit of a delay, but Vansin was the next to appear. Rolling, he stuck the top half of his body back in, locking his legs around the hole. With minimal effort, he pulled himself up, Tylor in tow.

  Once everyone was inside the college, Inyalia lowered her bow and followed after them.

  Chapter XIX

  Trading Lives

  The door clicked shut, banishing the sliver of light that lit the dank corridor. A musky odor hung in the air, made tolerable only by the scent of lamp oil.

  “Lorena, would you mind providing us some light?” Tylor took the lead, searching his way in the darkness. When the door was open, he could see openings to each side, and a grand staircase somewhere in the distance. But now, it was little more than a guess as to which opening led where.

  “I can try. The last spell wouldn’t work. I believe the college is dampening my ability somehow.”

  “A magic school dampening magic ability? That seems a bit silly.” Raemus stated casually, feeling the edge of a doorway. Carefully, he made his way past, staying with the group.

  “It’s only silly out of context. A training mage isn’t always in control of their abilities. Or, an exceptionally talented mage may try to show off. In the tower, there were entire wings that prohibited casting of any kind. They used them to level the playing field. If none stood above the others, they could be taught together. At least that’s the line they fed us. Whether it’s true or not, I have no idea.” Lorena concentrated on a simple light spell. She didn’t want something so large as to betray their position, but the ability to see was crucial to their survival. Sparks flickered in the palm of her hand, glowing for the briefest heartbeat before dying. She tried again to the same result. “I’m sorry, but it’s simply not working.”

  “It’s okay. I saw a few sconces mounted on the walls. I’ll bet we can simply relight one.” Tylor reached high, feeling around for the metal devices he’d seen upon entry. Finding one, he ran his fingers along the side, until he found the bowl. Carefully, he lifted it and brought it down. “I’ve got one.” Feeling for the oil inside, he set it on the floor, careful to keep it from spilling. A quick swipe with the flat of his dagger sent sparks of flint arcing down. It took a few tries, but the oil flared to life. Sight returned, he grabbed the base and carefully returned it to its mount.

  Peering into one of the side rooms, Vansin closed the door. “Nothing interesting here. Not much but overturned furniture and rubble.”

  “Same over here.” Raemus announced.

  Tylor moved toward the main room, glancing up the stairs at its head. From here, he could see the balconies of at least six levels. It appeared as if each one expanded all directions, centered on this central chamber.

  Tormented screams echoed f
rom one of the upper levels, silencing all else.

  Inyalia skirted the side of the room, ignoring the adjoining hallways. Stepping onto the stairs, she started up.

  “Inyalia, we need to stay together.” Tylor rushed across the room to keep from shouting.

  “We aren’t going to find anything down here. Baal will be with the prisoners.” She rushed up the steps two at a time.

  Sighing, Tylor signaled the others.

  Scouting their surroundings as best they could, they ascended level by level, searching for the source. Another scream echoed, seeming right on top of them.

  Inyalia froze, her arrow aimed, but not drawn. “It came from this way.” She started down a hall on the fifth floor. Minimal light filtered into the hallway from a few of the open doors before them. Inyalia moved along the left wall, scanning the distance for any perceived threat.

  Taking position opposite her, Tylor approached the first door on the right. Peeking around, he squeezed the grip of his daggers, expecting to quench their thirst at any moment. “Clear.” Stepping past, he mirrored Inyalia.

  Lorena trailed on the left, followed closely by Raemus. She wasn’t sure how she could help. A mage was only as useful as her magic. No! that wasn’t right. Which rule was that? Recalling her training, Lorena silently recited the Rules of Wizardry. There were ten of them, each taught as short quips. Some were pretty logical, while others were little more than turn of phrase, but she’d been required to memorize each and every one. There were two which applied to her current situation. Rule one, magic isn’t always the answer. And rule ten, sometimes the greatest magic is no magic at all. Neither answered her question, but it did make her think of rule five. When something seems impossible, try looking from another angle. Aside from her dagger, hidden beneath her robes, she was unarmed. But she had an archer in front of her, some guy with a staff behind her. Tylor to her right, and as best she could tell, a walking meat-shield just behind him. She was plenty protected. She simply had to wait for the right moment, or somehow find a way to break the antimagic field.

  Hearing the screams, Inyalia through her arm up, signaling the stop. Cautiously, she peeked around the corner seeing two orcs standing in the room. She couldn’t make out much detail, but someone was strapped to a table, flailing as best the bindings would allow. Signaling Tylor in Ranger Speak, she prepared herself.

  Tylor nodded his agreement and started the countdown. Balling his fist, he lunged across the hall and flung his dagger.

  Inyalia leapt across the opening, releasing her bow string. Her arrow embedded itself at the base of the orc’s skull just as Tylor’s dagger found its mark on the other. Rushing into the room, she made sure no others were present.

  The elf strapped to the table squirmed, uncertain as to what was happening.

  Raemus rushed forward to inspect him. He’d suffered some muscle damage in his legs, and a few broken ribs from where the bindings had been tightened, but overall, he was in fair shape. “Calm yourself. We’re going to get you out of here.” Laying his hand atop the subdued elf’s chest, he focused his power. A gentle glow radiated and sank into the elf.

  He fell back, his struggle abandoned for the moment.

  Vansin knelt to inspect the dead creatures. There wasn’t much to do about them. Their armors were too large for anything but reforged steel, though the weapons were interesting. Vansin grabbed the short blade, which was nearly a longsword by comparison. It was heavy, but that just meant he needed to train with it. Strapping it to his pack, he searched for anything of value.

  Raemus went to work unbuckling the straps, starting with those around his chest. No sooner than they were free, he heard the bones snap into place.

  The elf’s back arched in pain, but he fell still once again.

  Ensuring the mended bones had set properly, Raemus addressed Tylor. “We need to get him out of here. I don’t think he has the strength to continue with us.”

  Leaning over the suddenly calm elf, Inyalia stared into his eyes. “Where are they keeping the other prisoners?”

  Weakly lifting his arm, the elf pointed the direction they were headed. “They keep the—” He winced as another pop echoed inside his chest, forming tears in his eyes. “I don’t know where they keep all of them. But there are two rooms that way, right across from each other.”

  “Thank you.” Inyalia glanced around the room. Lorena, since you’re limited at the moment, would you mind staying with him until we get back?”

  “I can do that. Maybe it’ll give me time to explore the wards and possibly break them.”

  “Do what you can.” Directing the group as a whole, Inyalia spoke louder than intended. “The rest of us will clear the prison rooms and send everyone here.”

  The wounded elf sat up. His ribs were clearly visible beneath his skin. How long had it been since he’d last eaten? “Be careful of the blackguard.”

  “Blackguard? What’s that?” Vansin asked, standing. The dead orcs didn’t have anything else he cared about. But he’d severed their heads for good measure.

  “It’s one of the bigger creatures. Their commander. He has this way of twisting what’s in your head. That’s how they captured us. I was home, asleep in my bed. Next thing I knew, we were locked up. It took a while to fill in the gaps, but quick flashes started happening about a week ago. They’re doing some kind of experiments on us. Most break before they get their results. But once the blackguard comes, you don’t return to the cells. You move to another room, or you go outside.”

  “Why were you here? Was the blackguard coming for you?” Tylor asked, curious as to what kind of trouble they’d found themselves in.

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t understand what they were saying. They brought me here after I got caught sharing my rations with one of the others. They just strapped me down right before you came. I don’t know what they were planning to do to me.”

  “All right. Lorena, you stay with him and see what you can do about the wards. Inyalia and I will scout ahead. Raemus, you stick to the back. Can’t have you getting hurt. And Vansin, do your thing if we encounter more than we can handle on the jump.” Tylor turned and made his way out the door. He wasn’t thrilled with going head on against the orcs, but they’d already gotten involved. There was no way they could leave the prisoners behind now. He only wished he knew more about these orcs. Especially the one they called Blackguard.

  Inyalia made her way down the hall, silent as could be. The floors were covered in carpet, which helped tremendously. Scanning each room as she passed, she was starting to hear sounds of life. Coughing, crying, whispers, and a guttural tongue she did not recognize. Moving closer to the sounds, she signaled Tylor. He seemed to be hearing the same things.

  Stepping into a shadow, Tylor readied his daggers. The door was closed, but he was certain there were at least three of the brutish creatures on the other side. Glancing at Inyalia, he was pleased to see she was ready. But it was not the time to act. They needed to alert the others first. Signaling for her to hold, he turned and crept back down the hall to where Vansin and Raemus waited. “We’ve found the rooms. Both doors are closed. I fear it’ll be too loud to hit one at a time, so we’ll need to do both together. Inyalia and I will take the left. You two take the right.”

  “Got it.” Vansin smiled wide. His knuckles popped against the grip of his morningstar. Readying his shield, he followed Tylor to Inyalia.

  Moving just past the door, Raemus prepared his quarterstaff and nodded to Vansin.

  Signaling the count, Tylor threw the door open and rushed inside

  Inyalia spun around the door frame, firing off three arrows in the blink of an eye. Each one sailed harmlessly past Tylor. Two of the three found their mark. The first sank into one of the brute’s eye sockets. The second entered the mouth of another and exited its skull. And the third arrow hit its target, but proved ineffective. Inyalia watched her arrow, aimed straight for the final creature’s mouth. Were it any other beast, she had no doubt
it would have been a killing shot. As it were, the razored head was no match for its dense tusks. It struck with near perfect precision, breaking the thick ivory. But it was just enough shock to send the bolt ricocheting into the wall.

  Tylor was upon the third orc before the broken tusk hit the ground. Leaping atop the creature, he drove his dwarven dagger into its neck. His second blade slipped between the buckles of its armor. Tylor twisted the blade and retracted, rolling just before the dying beast hit the ground. Picking himself up, he watched the final moments of its life as the dark blood pooled beneath it.

  In the other room, Raemus busted through the door, his staff ready to strike. He was surprised to find the room empty, save for one elf and one human. The pair sat idle in the center. Their eyes closed as if in meditation. He studied them for a moment, watching their chests expand and retract. They were clearly alive, though in some kind of trance. The commotion they’d caused would have warranted the attention of the most devoted monk. Yet these two remained unphased.

  Vansin was right behind him, his morningstar raised. “What’s going on here?” He lowered his weapon, searching the room for anything of interest. Seeing nothing, a look of disappointment settled upon his face.

  “Clear.” Tylor announced from across the hall.

  Vansin sighed deeply and turned, peering at the fallen bodies. “All clear here.” Shaking his head, he slung his shield and sauntered to the other side. Leaning against the doorframe, he watched Tylor cleaning his blades. “You told me I’d get some action. Thus far all I’ve done is follow you around and clean up. When do I get to make a mess of my own?”

  Tucking his daggers away, Tylor smiled at the impatient elf, eyeing the sword strapped to his pack. “Patience, my friend. Have a look around. We’re in another city, surrounded by who knows how many orcs, and most of them want to kill us. I believe the odds are heavily in your favor. Though if I had it my way, I’d never look upon another orc for the rest of my life. Besides, you already got one of those spiky swords. What more do you want?”