Sunset of Lantonne

by Jim Galford

  She climbed onto the table, pulling her legs up under her, then spread her dress around her so her legs were free if she had to move suddenly.

  Ilarra slowed her breathing and she sat straight, staring at the thin line of white light ahead of her. An hour or two was not difficult for her to wait through. She only needed to calm herself and let her mind wander. When the door opened, she would have to react quickly, but until then, she could relax. Nenophar had taught her how to use her immortality to let time become insignificant, letting hours or days pass without the need to blink.

  Seconds, minutes, or hours passed—how long, Ilarra could not be sure. All she knew for certain was that the beam of light never wavered or changed. For much of the wait, she let her mind go blank and stared at the light.

  Slowly, she felt the nagging of the Turessians growing, and she pushed it aside, trying to stay calm and focused. Each time she did, the insistence of the faint whispers would go for a time, then gradually creep back until she felt as though she were trying to concentrate in the middle of an angry crowd.

  A faint tremor caused Ilarra to blink hard and look around in the dark, wondering if it was another symptom of the Turessians trying to get into her head. Seconds later, another rumble made the table vibrate, dismissing any thought of the voices in her mind.

  Ilarra got up from the table and lay down on the floor, putting her ear to the stones. Almost immediately, another boom shook the room. In the stones, she heard a crackling impact she could not help thinking sounded like a boulder shattering.

  Suddenly, the door to the dining hall clicked and swung open, filling the room with light and clearly outlining Ilarra where she lay on the floor.

  Ilarra looked up, knowing she must look truly foolish sprawled on the ground. When she did, she saw two of the blood guard, followed by Therec, all of whom were staring at her in confusion. Behind them, there appeared to be several dozen people, not all wearing servants’ garb.

  Cradled in Therec’s arms, the staff Ilarra had come for drew her full attention briefly.

  “Arrest her and get these people in here,” Therec told the guards. “Fit as many inside as you can, then seal the room. They’ll be safer here. The girl should be taken up to the old magister rooms and locked in somewhere until things settle down.”

  The two soldiers drew swords and began advancing on Ilarra. Unlike those at the entryways to the keep, these men moved with caution, splitting up as they approached. They knew how to fight a wizard and were taking no chances with her. She could attack one, but the other would strike before she could recover.

  Ilarra sat up, then stood, smoothing her dress as she waited for the men to get closer.

  “Go with them, Ilarra,” said Therec firmly. “If you ever cared about Lantonne, you need to do as I say. Even if you want this city to fall for some perverse reason, I would see you held safely until this is over.”

  The soldiers flanked Ilarra, but she kept her eyes on Therec. Men with swords were a fairly insignificant threat, she reminded herself. She let magic flow into her, infusing her entire body with its tingling warmth. She might not be at full strength, but Ilarra felt stronger than she had in a long time.

  “Give me the staff and I will leave without hurting anyone,” she told Therec, letting the magic she had taken control of form into crackles of lightning between her fingertips.

  “No!” the man screamed at her, his calm shattered. So sudden was the change that came over him, the soldiers near Ilarra stopped and stared at Therec as he pulled the staff to his chest protectively. “Why do all of you keep asking that? This belongs to me…to my people!”

  Apparently realizing how he sounded, Therec looked around furtively, then backed into the crowd of people behind him. “Kill her if she won’t yield!” With one more glance at Ilarra, Therec turned and ran through the group of people, disappearing behind them before she could do anything.

  “Let the magic go,” warned the soldier on Ilarra’s left. “We’re going to bind your hands and gag you, but we will not hurt you if you go peacefully. This is for everyone’s safety.”

  “And if I don’t let you take me?” she asked, smiling at the man. She continued to let the lightning arc and pop between her fingers.

  “There are two of us and we’re too close to get us both,” the other soldier said, inching closer. “Give it up, girl. No one wants this.”

  Ilarra thought over her options. At full strength, she could have taken them both without risk, but she could not be certain how fast she could cast spells or even if they would work. There was simply no time to argue or risk letting Therec get farther away, limiting her choices to one unpleasant decision.

  Flinging her left hand toward the soldier on that side, Ilarra released the lightning she had kept readied, burning the man and making him convulse as he collapsed. She tried to turn and do the same to the other man, but as she moved, pain flared through her chest and she could not move.

  Ilarra looked down and saw the soldier had driven his sword cleanly through her chest and out her back, the blade sliding smoothly between her ribs. She could not breathe, the agony incredible as she choked and mouthed words she had no breath to utter. Blood filled her mouth as she coughed shallowly and she fell to her knees, the soldier holding firm, not letting the sword slip at all.

  “I’m sorry, girl, you gave me no choice,” the soldier told her.

  With a sharp twist of his weapon, the man opened up the wound in her chest, and Ilarra shook as he pulled it free. The pain faded almost immediately, leaving her feeling cold and numb. She only barely realized she had fallen onto her side, staring unblinkingly at the boots of the man that had killed her.

  Ilarra felt the singular moment of death racing toward her, then it was gone. The pain went away completely and suddenly she could breathe again. Warmth filled her body, followed by the rush of magic she had called to her hands without realizing it. She was standing again, though she could not remember getting up.

  Blurs of flame and lightning etched themselves onto the back of Ilarra’s eyes as she walked, unable to make sense of what was happening. Ever so slowly, the numbness faded and she stopped herself. During those moments she could not remember, Ilarra had gotten herself back into the hallway outside the dining room. She stood about twenty feet outside the doors, confused and dazed. There were no shouts and no one trying to stop her.

  Ilarra wanted to go after Therec, but something made her turn around to see what had happened. As much as she knew she did not want to look, she could not allow herself to go on without understanding.

  Behind Ilarra, the hall was burned black anywhere blood did not coat the walls and floor. Nearly two-dozen people lay in mangled heaps, many clearly killed by magic while others appeared to have been ripped apart. Men, women, and children that she had seen in the keep during her previous visits lay dead or dying, all staring in horror at her. Beyond those bodies, a pile of gore surrounded by shredded chainmail was all that remained of the soldier who had stabbed her.

  Ilarra lifted her hands and saw they were covered with blood up to her elbows. She had killed them all. Twenty people torn limb from limb and she could not even remember doing it. It was what she had long feared as a possibility, but she had never thought it could come on her so quickly. The Turessians either had managed to control her, or she was becoming like them without realizing it.

  Unable to walk away, Ilarra looked at the carnage in dumbfounded shock. She knew every second she wasted, Therec got farther away, slimming any chances of getting the staff out of the city in time, but her muscles would not work. She could only stare at the remains of a child—elven, from what she could tell of the broken body—and wonder if this was how all the Turessians serving Dorralt had started, horrified at their actions, and with each new murder, further desensitized until they willingly followed him.

  Sliding down the wall until she was sitting, Ilarra gagged at the scent of the dead bodies. She doubled over and began retching, unable to c
ontrol the reaction as her body tried to purge not just the smell, but the anguish over what she had done. Eventually, the vomiting came to an end, and Ilarra knelt there a little longer, gasping for breath and trying not to look at what she had done. She crawled away from the bodies, unable to motivate herself to stand and knowing she did not have the strength to get up and run just yet.

  She had scarcely gone ten feet before another group rounded the corner and stopped a little ways in front of Ilarra. Though she did not look up, what she could see of their feet let her know that there were at least two soldiers leading the others, who were likely more servants or commoners.

  “How many got into the keep?” asked one of the soldiers, running to Ilarra’s side. He knelt beside her, trying to help her up, adding, “We were told that the dining hall would be secure for the civilians trapped in the keep. I hadn’t heard that the walls were even breached yet…”

  The man froze, holding Ilarra’s elbow. She followed his gaze and saw that he was staring at her blood-soaked hands and the bits of gore that still clinging to her fingers. With his free hand, the man began slowly reaching for his sword, still in its sheath.

  Ilarra gathered her strength, knowing if she did nothing, she would end up killing these people as well. She had to get away fast, and that meant using magic that might not answer her call. If she could not flee, there was no telling what she might do.

  “I’m sorry,” Ilarra said softly, then sat up as fast as she could, releasing a burst of magic toward the soldier to fling him backwards.

  With a grunt, the soldier tumbled away from Ilarra, crashing into the other soldier and several of the civilians. Screams erupted in the group, and the commoners began scattering, trying to get away from Ilarra and trampling each other in the process.

  Ilarra stood up and forced herself to run before the soldiers could recover. Like so many things since her change had begun, simply believing she could or should be able to run again was more than enough. She soon raced through the keep faster than she had ever run in her life.

  Once Ilarra had gotten sufficiently far from the soldiers, she stopped at the first staircase she found, trying to decide where to go. Therec was the only thing that mattered, but she had no idea where he had gone. He could be anywhere in the keep, especially now that he knew she was after him.

  Another rumble through the floor startled Ilarra. She had almost forgotten the previous smaller tremors, but this one shook the entire keep and knocked a painting off the wall nearby. Distantly, she heard glass or pottery shattering as other items fell elsewhere.

  Ilarra thought over what the soldiers had said and realized they were under attack, likely by the Turessians she had seen earlier. The few undead she had seen had no means to attack a walled city, making her wonder what had happened while she had been in the dining hall. She wanted a better idea of what was going on before she continued searching the keep. Clearly, something more than a few thousand zombies was attacking now.

  Much like the magical knowledge that had come unbidden early on, Ilarra abruptly knew the entire layout of the keep. That horrified her, as it meant a Turessian had infiltrated the place and might even still be in the building. Time was short, assuming she was not already too late.

  Ilarra “remembered” a balcony about four floors up that had been built for the king to watch sunrises on one side of the tower and sunsets on the other. That would be an ideal location to see the state of the city, and she set off for the stairs that would take her most directly toward it.

  The route up through the keep was slow going, as Ilarra had to stop every few minutes to avoid groups of soldiers running from one location to another. The whole place was on high alert, and not a single servant was out in the halls. Whatever was going on, those who could not fight were clearly being taken to safer locations to wait it out…places like the dining hall.

  Ilarra bit down the rising guilt and forced herself to keep going. The deaths she had caused would be insignificant compared with what would happen to the whole city if she did not complete her mission quickly. Even if she was too late, she knew deep down the staff had to be destroyed. Anything Dorralt wanted that badly had to be taken from him.

  Finally, Ilarra reached the ninth floor of the keep and cautiously approached the nearest entrance to the small balcony ringing the tower. Her borrowed memories told her the doors should have been locked, but she found them open and groups of soldiers standing on the balcony as wind blew into the keep. On that wind, she could smell something burning.

  Ilarra inched toward the balcony door, trying not to let the soldiers outside see her, but also trying to get a better view of the city beyond.

  The soldiers were all waiting, each carrying bows with a large pile of arrows at their feet. No one out there was speaking; they watched the horizon grimly, their weapons ready but not drawn.

  Getting right up to the doorway, Ilarra finally got a clear view of the city and the plains surrounding it. What she saw terrified her nearly as much as the dead near the dining hall did.

  The inner city still stood as she remembered it, but the walls were covered with soldiers firing arrows and throwing rocks. Though she could not see what they were fighting, farther out in the outer city were vast hordes of undead, pushing at one another to reach the walls. Everywhere she looked, the undead were at least a hundred deep, and fresh dead littered the outer city streets. Dozens of buildings in the outer city were burning, sending black columns of smoke into the sky and coating everything, including the soldiers on the balcony, with a layer of ash.

  As she watched, a section of the wall exploded inwards in a flash of magic. In Ilarra’s mind, she could almost make out the incanting of a Turessian hurling the spells at the wall. With them so close, Ilarra could barely block out their influence, but she could certainly feel them.

  Ilarra backed away from the doorway and made her way across the floor toward the southern entrance to the balcony. She had to be sure how bad things had gotten. If one group of the Turessians’ forces had pushed ahead early, there might yet be hope of stopping them before the others arrived. It would probably require her helping the city, rather than finding Therec, but she would do it if it would make the difference.

  The southern door was less guarded, though several soldiers were visible to either side farther down the curve of the narrow battlement-lined balcony. Bows and piles of arrows were ready at the entrance, but there were no soldiers to use them, at least not yet.

  Creeping onto the balcony, Ilarra first checked the base of the keep for signs the undead were attacking the inner city. Below, a few soldiers waited with pikes to hold off anything that got that far, but there were no indications the battle had gotten past the city walls. The walls dividing the inner and outer cities appeared intact on the south, making Ilarra feel a little more confident. The southern gates were packed with people trying to make their way inside before the gates were shut to cut off any attackers. A single wagon pushed its way out from those gates, clearly trying to escape into the plains before a siege began…which Ilarra could not help but feel was the smartest decision any of the citizens were making.

  Looking farther out past the walls, Ilarra could see the plains were still open to the south and southwest, but would not be for long. Dark waves of thousands of undead were running hard across the plains out past the range of the city’s archers, attempting to close off the southern exit and fully circle the city. Within the hour, there would be no way out.

  Ilarra leaned over the balcony, peering west and east. There, the undead forces were so thick she could not see the far side. Once they had closed the southern gap, the city would be surrounded by a wall of undead at least a hundred deep, if not a thousand. There was no way of being sure how many Turessians might be backing up those zombie foot-soldiers with enough magic to level a city by themselves.

  A horn cry echoed all through the city from somewhere over Ilarra’s head—the standard call to alert any reserve soldiers to get thei
r weapons and report to the keep—and when she looked up, she could see there were people at the top of the central tower, leaned over the battlements. That made sense, she realized, as they would have the best view of all aspects of the siege even though they were safe from it until the keep was taken. That would be where she would go if she were the ruler of a city or its regent. If she had to guess, Therec and the king, as well as a small contingent of soldiers, would be up there.

  “The king is already dead,” came a voice Ilarra thought was from one of the soldiers farther down the balcony. After looking around, she realized it came from within her head, signaling a new and disturbing advancement of the Turessian influence on her. Usually she could tell when the voice was from the Turessians.

  “How long until we seal the southern gates?” she asked, going back inside the keep. She knew there was only so long she could keep the Turessians from seizing control over her, but she decided to push her luck and try something. “I need time to complete my mission inside the city.”

  “You have two hours. I will hold the gate,” the voice replied. “What is your mission? I thought we were all to meet outside…”

  “Delay blocking it as long as you can,” Ilarra insisted, cutting off the other speaker. “I need my target to believe the way out is still safe. Give me four hours, if possible.”

  “Who are you?” the woman’s voice came back almost immediately. “I can’t see your thoughts.”

  Ilarra pushed down the voices that came to her mind, smiling as she ran for the central staircase of the keep. Losing her sanity to the Turessians had a few small benefits, apparently. Foremost among them was they did not seem to question anyone else who could communicate with them, assuming they were part of the family. Soon enough, she probably would be, but the advantage of getting information from the enemy was not one she would pass up.

  Starting at the tenth floor of the keep, a single wide staircase spiraled its way up to the school of magic and the roof of the central keep. Every twenty feet or so, a platform allowed archers to fire out the windows, though the entire staircase was empty. With the majority of the army somewhere in the mountains, there were far more places soldiers could fight from than there were soldiers.