by Ben Hale
“Will the king see us?” she asked.
Water nodded. “He’s a friend, as was his father. We helped quell an insurrection from a group of mercenaries three decades ago. King Numen was just a boy at the time, but he bore witness to the battle.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“A group from the outer villages demanded lower taxes,” Water said. “The king refused, but offered to let the leaders of the group examine the kingdom’s records, so they could see for themselves that the taxes were needed.”
“A generous offer,” she said.
“Indeed,” Water said. “We were asked to be present for the negotiations. Unfortunately, a cousin to the king had backed the group, and used the negotiation to attempt to kill the king, and his son. Fire and I stopped the attack, but the battle left dozens dead. We saved King Numen’s life.”
“Which explains why he’s a friend.”
At her request, he continued to share tales of his assignments for Elenyr until they crested a rise to see the city. Coming from the north, the river split to either side, feeding the two waterfalls that flanked the city. Heth sprawled across the flat section of rock between the two rivers.
The road descended from the forest and across the plateau, connecting to a bridge that spanned the eastern river. The sun was high over the Giant’s shelf and the golden light filtered into the city. The city was newer than the other capitols, its buildings lacking the refinements of other cities. Most of the roads were just the bare stone of the cliff, while the structures were fashioned from brick and mortar.
When they’d entered Heth to meet with Jeric, the sun had been setting, the growing darkness an invitation for those that craved anonymity. This time, he and Lira entered the city in the early morning, and the crowds were largely absent. Those still present stumbled about, their eyes faded, jugs of hard ale in their hands. Trash lay strewn in the streets, and a handful of harried soldiers sought to clean the mess.
The surface of the cliff was barren, but many trees had been planted, their limbs young and failing to provide shade against the mounting heat. Water led the way to the throughway that pointed to the river’s junction.
The castle was not overly large, it’s walls built of wood supported by stone. What it lacked in strength it made up for in beauty, the wood carved and burned with fire to depict past kings in battle. The contrast to the state of the city was striking.
Lira frowned in disapproval. “The king lives in splendor, while the people live in squalor.”
“This is actually better than it was,” Water said. “King Numen has loosened the heavy taxes his father levied, and uses what he cans to improve the city. In time, he hopes to make Heth as beautiful as Herosian or Ilumidora.”
They reached the gate and the guard sent a messenger to the king. Shortly after, they were permitted inside the gardens. Lush and vibrant, the greenery surrounded the courtyard, the walls of which held banners of the king, a storm over a rising sword. To Water’s surprise, King Numen met them outside.
“River!” he exclaimed, using the persona Water had been using for the last two decades. “To what do I owe the unexpected visit?”
“Your majesty,” Water said, “I hope you are in good health.”
“I am,” he said, clapping Water on the shoulder. Then he caught sight of Lira. “And who is this vision of beauty?”
“A friend,” Water said. “She is accompanying me on my current assignment.”
“Come,” King Numen said. “We should speak inside.” The king paused and handed a sealed envelope to a messenger. “See that it’s delivered within the hour.” Then he motioned Water to follow.
Dressed in a regal purple cloak and fine linens, King Numen looked every bit the ruler. His dark hair had just begun to silver above the temples, while his dark eyes lit with amusement. His smile came often and easy, gaining him the name “The Charismatic King.” He was also built like a soldier, his body lean and powerful. He frequently carried a sword and trained with his guard, a fact that endeared him to his people.
“You must be hungry from your journey,” he said. “My servants have leftover roast boar that we could sneak from the kitchen.” He winked slyly.
“No,” Water said. “Unfortunately we have come on a grave matter. May we speak in private?”
“Of course,” he said.
The king turned down a side corridor and descended a turret to reach the bottom level of the fortress. Then he led them down a short corridor to a door flanked by two guards. The other side of the hall had windows that overlooked a courtyard. Passing them by, he stepped into the room and aside, smiling as he motioned to his office.
“I hope you enjoy the view.”
Water’s eyes widened. Although underground, the room had windows that overlooked the city. The sun rose in the east, the light cascading on the vast forest below. It felt like they were a hundred feet off the ground, sitting in the highest turret of the castle.
“We’re not in a turret,” Water said. “How is this possible?”
“Man may be known for being clever, but elven magic is always inventive.” King Numen nodded in satisfaction. “They planted a tree in the turret above, and threaded roots all the way to here. It allows me to be more protected without losing the view. You can even see the guards outside my office.”
He pointed to a window in the side of the keep, through which Water spotted the two guards they’d seen outside. One fidgeted, scratching his backside before straightening, the motion noticed by his companion, who frowned. King Numen chuckled.
“Even knowing about my window, they still forget I can see them.”
The king made his way to the circle of chairs set beside the hearth at the back. All were carved by hand and bore the mark of the kingdom, the symbol the same as the banner. He settled into his chair and motioned to them.
“I do hope you have a tale for me.”
Water exchanged a look with Lira. “What do you know of the Order of Ancients?” he asked.
“A harmless group of discontents,” the king, said, waving his hand.
“They attacked us in the Deep six days past,” Water exclaimed. “They had legion strength.”
The king frowned. “That’s not possible.”
“We were forced to flee.”
King Numen shook his head, gesturing to Water. “You and your companions are powerful—beyond powerful. How many could rival your might?”
“The Order is real,” Water said, leaning in. “And they are working with the krey.”
The king gestured in dismissal. “I heard rumors that the krey had returned.”
“Rumors based in truth,” Water said. “I’ve seen them with my own eyes.”
The king’s amusement faded as he regarded Water. Then his features turned serious. “If what you say is true, then we are in danger, for the Order has been preparing for the return of the ancients since the Dawn of Magic.”
“How have they not been discovered?”
The king’s brow was furrowed in thought. “Their members are supposedly scattered across every race and station, with many in the noble houses. There’s even rumors that a king was once involved.” He jerked his head and swept his hand to them. “And you think they are searching for the krey?”
“Worse,” Water said. “We think they are already allied.”
“How many members are in the Order?” Lira asked.
“Dozens? Thousands?” The king shook his head. “No one knows. What I can tell you is that if they exist, they have been preparing for thousands of years for this moment. They probably already know every threat that can stop them.”
“You think they know who I am?” Water asked.
“You said they attacked you,” the king said wryly. “And they were prepared for your power.”
Water leaned back in his seat, struck by that idea. He’d assumed the Order had found them at the underground lake at Wylyn’s request, but what if they had already been hunting the frag
ments?
He had the image of thousands of men and women going about their daily business, their secret signs given only to each other, their meeting held without the knowledge of kings or guilds. They knew the enemies of the krey, and the krey had come. The Order had risen to claim the krey as their rulers, and the fragments were all being hunted. He grimaced, wondering if it was just his imagination, or if there was truth to that idea. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder, but the feeling of being watched would not be so easily shaken.
The king rubbed the goatee on his chin. “What do the krey want?”
Hesitant to reveal the truth, even to a friend, Water said, “We are still uncertain.”
The king leaned against the hearth. “Last night a village was attacked by what the people claimed to be strange rock trolls. A survivor reached the city this morning, claiming one of the attackers was a krey.”
“Where?” Lira asked.
“Southern Erathan,” he said. “Close to the coast.”
“What did they want?” Water asked.
“They wanted a location of a mine in the dwarven kingdom,” the king said. “What is most disturbing is that the city had a dwarven blacksmith, and the dwarf had recently returned from visiting his kingdom. It was almost as if the outlanders knew the dwarf possessed the knowledge they sought. One among the rock trolls was reportedly a strange looking human with purple eyes.”
Water exchanged a look with Lira and knew she was thinking the same thing. It seemed the Order was helping Wylyn find Serak, while Wylyn’s son was searching for the material to rebuild a Gate.
Water rose to his feet. “We should go to the village. Perhaps we can pick up the trail there.”
“I sent a contingent of guards to return with the villagers,” the king said. “If you wish to speak to the survivors, I’d suggest you talk to a woman named Grena. She seemed to know the most, but she insisted on returning to her home. You’ll have to find her there.”
“We will,” Water said. “And thank you.”
He clasped the king’s hand, and the man nodded. “Send word when you discover the truth. If the krey are truly returning, my kingdom will stand with you.”
“Your bravery is admirable,” Lira said, inclining her head in respect. “But let us hope it does not come to that.”
“Ero be with us,” the king said.
Water managed to hide a smile and stepped around the chair. He stepped to the door and glanced to the window, expecting to see himself step out of the door. But his hand froze halfway through turning the handle. Through the enchanted window he could see the exterior of the door he was about to exit.
“Where are your guards?” he asked.
King Numen looked up, his eyes falling on the window. He frowned and strode to the edge of the room to peer at the exterior of the office. He shook his head in confusion and looked to Water, his eyes lacking the usual smile.
“They would not willingly leave their posts.”
Lira leaned in and pointed. “That’s blood on the wall.”
Water spotted the splash of red and realized the men outside were likely dead, the attackers just waiting for them to emerge before striking. They would not wait forever, and if they could strike the king in his own castle, they had planned with care.
“Who would attack you here?” he asked.
“I have no threats of such magnitude,” Numen said.
“The Assassin’s Guild?” Water asked.
King Numen shook his head. “I’ve spoken to Guildmaster Loralyn recently, and she would not accept a contract on my life.”
“Then who has come for you?” Lira asked.
“Perhaps they are here for you,” King Numen said. “You came asking questions about a powerful organization. It’s possible they do not want to be discovered.”
A flicker of movement at the edge of the window drew Water’s eyes, and he spotted a figure dressed as a guard stride into view. He took up position next to the door while a moment later another stood on the opposite side of the door. But they were not the same guards as before, and they betrayed a nervous air.
King Numen growled and reached for the sword hanging from his belt. “Make sure to leave one alive. I want answers.”
“Wait,” Water said, raising a hand to stop the king from stepping into the ambush. “Let me go first. If they strike at me, we know they are here for us. If they do not, I will pass beyond them and . . .”
“No,” King Numen said, his eyes widening with horror. “They aren’t here for you.”
“How can you tell?” Water asked.
King Numen pointed to another spot of the keep, also visible through the window, where two men dressed as guards were wrestling with a girl. Bound and gagged, the girl fought like a lion, but the guards dragged her from the chamber.
“They have my daughter,” King Numen said.
Without another word, he leaped to the door and wrenched it open.
Chapter 23: The Dark Dwarf
The king dived through the door, leading with his sword. The false soldiers were ready, but not for an enraged father. Numen parried the expected strike, lifting the sword and ducking under to avoid the second sword. Then he turned and leveled a crushing blow with his free hand, sending one to the floor. Twisting, he knocked the second sword high before charging, slamming the man into the wall. As he groaned and crumpled, Numen leapt down the hall.
Other soldiers appeared and filled the end of the hallway. Water stepped into the open and sprinted after the king, passing the two groaning men on the floor. Lira caught up and ran at his side.
“They are all in guard uniforms,” she said. “How do we know which is against us?”
“If they try to kill you,” Water said, “they’re probably against us.”
Lira grinned and they accelerated to catch the king. Ten feet from the line of soldiers, a dwarf stepped into the open and leaned down. With a gauntlet of bright steel, he struck the floor—cracking the floor of the corridor from end to end.
The floor split open, the two sides of the floor parting. Water jumped to the side but the floor receded, and all three of them fell into the chamber beneath, which proved to be a prison cell.
Water alighted on his feet but the king landed hard, crying out as he twisted his ankle. Lira landed at his side, all three looking up as the floor sealed above them, the thick stone closing and healing like a wound.
“Where are we?” Water asked.
“Prisoners brought to see the king are kept here,” the king said, his face a mask of pain, anger, and fear. “The walls and doors are reinforced with enchantments. Get me up. I need to find my daughter.”
“Why would they take her?” Lira asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, rising and limping to the door. “But the men outside my office door did not strike to kill. Their blows were meant to incapacitate.”
“So they want you as well,” Water said.
Water joined him at the door. The prison cell was like any other, a box with no windows that contained a bed and a privy. The door was wood overlaid with iron, with only a tiny window allowing visibility into the hall. The thudding of footfalls echoed, but Water guessed they would be foes. The dwarf had dropped them into the cell on purpose, likely to place the king in a contained area, out of sight.
“We need to get out of here,” Water said.
“The door is barred,” the king said, slamming his hand against the door in futility, his face red with anger and fear.
“Allow me,” Lira said.
She stepped to the door and cast a spike of air. The charm fit around her hand like a pointed gauntlet, the air hardening into a blade. Then she cast strength and reared back, slamming the weapon into the door.
Wood snapped and sparks burst from broken enchantments, and the door cracked down the center. Lira leaned back and struck again, blasting the door into shards of wood and broken metal. Sparks and tongues of flame passed around the opening as enchantments died.
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Water stared in awe. The dust settled around Lira as she dismissed the gauntlet, the swirls of air tugging at her hair. Then she noticed Water’s expression and raised an eyebrow. Realizing he was staring, Water managed to find his voice.
“If I ever go to prison, I want you at my side.”
She snorted in amusement and led the way through. As the smoke cleared soldiers appeared at the north end of the corridor, presumably the only way out. Other cells lined the space, all locked, the silence from within suggesting they were empty.
“Stay here,” Water said to the king. “We’ll handle the guards.”
King Numen cursed and tried to shove his way past them. “I’m not leaving my daughter.”
Water reached out and restrained him. “We’ll get your daughter, but you are injured, and we cannot stay with you.”
An order was barked and the group of attackers charged. King Numen scowled at his choice and his voice gaining a desperate edge. “Don’t let them take her.”
“We won’t,” Water replied.
Water started forward, drawing on the moisture in the air to shape an aquaglass staff. The transparent weapon hardened into a blade as fine as dwarven steel, and he used it to point upward.
“You take the high route,” he said.
“Done,” Lira said.
She cast a line of air stones and surged up them, the last two attaching to her feet and swinging her upside down. Water charged the soldiers beneath her, ducking a swinging sword and slicing through the man’s armor. He cried out and fell, but Water was already beyond him. He slapped a sword away and slammed his fist into the woman’s stomach, knocking her into the wall.
The falsely clad soldiers struggled to defend themselves against Lira’s sword above and Water’s staff beneath. Some parried Lira, leaving an opening for Water. Others chose to engage Water, allowing Lira to strike from above. She plunged her sword into their necks as she soared above them.
In perfect unison, Water and Lira charged down the corridor, leaving dead and wounded on the floor. Nearing the end, a man raised a spear and sought to stab Lira, but she caught the end of the shaft and dropped to the ground. Casting strength, she lifted the man off the ground and slammed him into his companions. Then she cast speed and leapt into their midst.