“Yeah.” His gaze returned to the chasm. The distance he could see had been cut in half, the darkness masking anything beyond a few hundred feet. It would only grow worse. “I feel as if I know nothing of this land, again a new recruit, nervous and unsure.”
“Well, neither of us is untested. If darkspawn attack, I suspect we will react no differently than when guarding Chasm Eight.”
Ki-Atti nodded but remained silent. His hand went to the scimitar on his hip, a blade best used for slashing, no different than Rialla’s naginata. He hoped he would not have to use it, even if there was an attack. His spear was meant to keep the beasts off the wall, the scimitar needed only if the spear failed.
His and four other squads were to guard the southern half of the wall, five more squads manning the north half. Below, on the safe side of the wall, another company of soldiers lay in bed, resting until it was time for the next shift. Ki-Atti prayed it would be a quiet evening. Nobody ever died from boredom.
The light in the sky faded, leaving only the blue, enchanted lanterns along the wall to illuminate the night. Moonlight normally made it easier to see, but a thick cloud bank had covered the moon, casting a deeper shadow over the ominous chasm. The impenetrable darkness chilled Ki-Atti as he stared into it, imagining what might lurk beyond his vision. Then something moved.
Ki-Atti leaned forward and peered into the distance, but the darkness fought him, denying him the chance to see more clearly.
“Captain!” Ki-Atti shouted. “Bring your lunar lens!”
A man, short, stout, and scowling, walked over. The only Balmorian in the group, Captain Trantor favored nobody, his ill temper dished out in equal doses to everyone in the squad. “What is it, soldier?”
“I think I saw something.” Ki-Atti pointed. “Out there, just south of that boulder.”
Trantor lifted his lunar lens, peering through the tube. He grunted. “So early…” Lowering the lens, he bellowed, “Archers! Light the braziers! We have company!”
Archers up and down the quarter-mile-long wall lit arrows dipped in naphtha. A staccato of twangs echoed in the night, orange streaks arcing through the sky. Many arrows struck the ground, but enough found the three braziers to set them ablaze. Blooms of amber arose from braziers equally spaced across the canyon. With the light came heat, drawing the darkspawn forward.
Running hunched over, gangly arms and legs flailing, a storm of goblins emerged from the night, hooting and cackling. Some huddled around the flames, drawn to them, while others continued toward the wall. Archers began to loose, a flurry of arrows filling the sky. Twenty members of each squad were armed with bows. Ki-Atti was among the others. His ranged weapon sat beside him, mounted to the wall as he waited.
Goblins fell as arrows struck. Squeals of pain joined the hooting of the charging enemy. In moments, hundreds lay dead, but still, the horde surged forward. The first goblins reached the wall and tried to climb it. Others piled behind the front line and began to scramble on top of their brethren. Ki-Atti bent and lifted the bucket beside him, pouring it over the wall as he ran along it. The naphtha fell on the mob of monsters, coating those on top with dark slime. Archers shot flaming arrows down at the goblins, setting the naphtha ablaze. Fire arose, a line of it racing along the wall, trailing in Ki-Atti’s wake.
Goblins burned, the stench filling the air. Those not burning backed away and stared, drawn toward it but unwilling to die from it. All the while, arrows continued to fall, killing monsters by the dozens.
A distant roar sounded, a dark, twisted call in the night.
“Oh no,” Ki-Atti groaned, recognizing the sound. Only twice before had he faced a rock troll.
The troll stomped into the light of a brazier as Ki-Atti raced back toward his position on the wall. The monster was just as massive and frightening as the other two he had encountered.
Standing three times the height of a man, the troll’s gray skin was covered in lumpy warts. The monster was thick, bulging muscles conveying the power it could wield. The beast paused and bellowed another roar, exposing a mouth filled with jagged, massive teeth, its eyes glowing with an orange hue. The surrounding goblins cheered as the behemoth charged forward.
Ki-Atti reached the ballista at his station, the war machine already loaded with a four-foot-long bolt, the shaft as thick as Ki-Atti’s forearm. With a grunt, he strained to turn the ballista, aiming for the charging abomination. When the rock troll was a hundred feet away, Ki-Atti pulled the trigger.
A massive thump resounded as the missile launched toward the beast. It struck, the troll lurching when the bolt buried into its chest. Three more bolts from other, nearby ballistae struck the monster – one in the stomach, another in the shoulder, the last in the arm.
With the wooden shafts jutting from its body, the mindless beast continued forward. Goblins scrambled out of the troll’s path, many failing, their trampled bodies left in its wake. The rock troll staggered as it neared the wall, but its momentum was too strong. Hastily, Ki-Atti gripped his spear and readied himself.
The troll struck the wall hard, shaking the battlements to their foundations. Soldiers near the area of impact stumbled, one falling over the edge and into the horde of monsters below, his screams ending abruptly. The troll reached up, its massive paw slapping the top of the wall just strides from where Ki-Atti stood. He leapt toward it and jammed the point of his spear into the back of its hand, hastily yanking it free before the hand retracted.
With a dreadful roar, the troll fell to its knees, the impact again shaking the wall. Goblins began to climb the dying monster, a scaffold of flesh twenty feet tall. Archers focused on the goblins nearing the top of the wall, filling the air with arrows, felling the scrawny monsters by the dozens. In return, goblin archers fired at the wall, returning the volleys from the Murguard defenders. Everything had turned to chaos.
Another roar sounded in the distance, rekindling the smoldering fear in Ki-Atti’s gut. Two more bellows blasted as three rock trolls emerged from the darkness, joined by another army of goblins.
At the opposite end of the wall from where Ki-Atti was stationed, goblins crested the top, overwhelming the soldiers stationed there. Flares of magic-wielded fire lit up the night as a wizard joined the defenders, setting monsters ablaze, their flailing, burning forms tumbling off the wall in both directions.
During his stay in The Fractured Lands, never before had Ki-Atti seen so many goblins. Even worse were the three rock trolls, the towering monsters rushing toward the wall. Ki-Atti set his spear aside and began cranking furiously on the ballista’s loading mechanism. The rock trolls converged, running shoulder to shoulder, their path set toward the center of the wall.
Again, goblins began to crest the wall, this time near Ki-Atti’s position. Soldiers surrounding him switched to melee weapons, most with spears, Rialla with her naginata. With the ballista cocked, Ki-Atti hefted a massive bolt and slid it into place. Just strides away, Rialla slashed and spun, her weapon cutting down goblin after goblin, the wiry monsters shrieking as they fell from the wall.
Ki-Atti took aim at one of the charging trolls and pulled the trigger. The bolt sailed toward it and struck true, burying into the monster’s thick neck. More bolts were launched, some striking the behemoths, others soaring off into the night.
“By the light of Kyra,” Ki-Atti muttered when it was clear the three monsters would reach the wall.
The impact was massive, the wall breaking with a resounding crack. Sections broke off and fell to the outside, cracks forming throughout. Ki-Atti stumbled but was able to grab hold of the ballista and prevent himself from falling into the fracas below. Others weren’t so lucky.
The goblins swarmed forward, a seemingly endless sea of them, climbing up the backs of the trolls and onto the wall as the trolls pounded on the stones, each man-sized fist striking with frightening power. Fissures became cracks, cracks growing to gaps, huge stone blocks breaking away.
Ki-Atti climbed to his feet. His spear was go
ne, so he drew his scimitar and waited. Goblins seemed to have engulfed the soldiers on the wall, overwhelming them while the trolls pounded away at the thick rock. They would soon have a full breach.
A horn sounded, intended to wake the soldiers below. Even with their help, this was an unwinnable fight. As Rialla fell to a swarm of monsters, Ki-Atti knew his post had failed. Darkspawn would escape beyond The Fractured Lands for the first time in a thousand years. He gripped his scimitar and backed away, hoping the horde might not notice a solitary man in the shadows at the end of the wall.
1
Bewitched
Narine Killarius opened her eyes and blinked at the bright slice of light streaming through the gap in her curtains. Judging by the angle, the sun had been up for an hour, perhaps longer. No wonder I am so hungry. She rolled over to discover Jace sitting at the edge of the bed, his bare back to her as he pulled on a boot.
“Where are you going?” she asked, stretching.
He bent and picked up his other boot. “We are out of water, and neither of us has eaten since mid-day yesterday. I need to refuel after our…” He grinned over his shoulder, “enthusiastic evening.”
Sitting up, holding the covers against her bare chest, she ran her hand down his back. It felt smooth and firm, much like the rest of him. “Must you leave me?”
He stood and turned toward her with a smirk on his unshaven, handsome face, his amber eyes twinkling. “Careful. If you tease me too much, we may end up giving it another go.”
As he spoke, her gaze traveled down his bare torso, chiseled and muscular in a lean fashion. She gave him a mischievous grin. “Perhaps I would like to give it another go.”
His smile stretched wider. “Don’t get me wrong. Last night was wonderful, but I fear a lack of sustenance can only continue for so long before one of us faints.”
She stuck her lip out in a feigned pout. “You would deny a princess’s request?”
He laughed. “Oh, that’s not fair.”
“Is this fair?” She lowered the covers to expose her upper body.
Smile melting, he ran his hand through his hair, eyes filled with longing. With a shake of his head, he crawled back onto the bed. “You have bewitched me once again.”
They kissed, his hand holding the back of her head, hers running down his chest as the room spun in the heat of the moment. When her hand found the waist of his trousers, someone pounded on the door. Again.
“Narine!” Adyn’s voice came from outside. “Open up. You’ve had your fun. We need to talk.”
Jace pulled away and frowned at the door. “She’s back. Perhaps we should respond this time. If pushed much further, she might break down the door.”
Disappointed, Narine sighed, knowing he was right. “Fine. Let her in.”
He climbed off the bed and crossed the room, still dressed in only breeches and boots. The moment he unlocked and opened the door, Adyn stormed in. With a leather jerkin over her tunic, tight breeches, high boots, and a sword on each hip, she appeared every inch the bodyguard. Her hands went to her hips, head cocked to the side as she arched a brow in Narine’s direction.
“What?” Narine asked, still upset about the intrusion.
“I see you two had a fun evening.”
Looking down, Narine realized her bare torso was still exposed. She hastily lifted the covers up to her neck, her cheeks warm.
Jace scooped his tunic off the floor and pulled it over his head. “You’ll hear no complaints from me.” He glanced back at Narine. “No details, either. I’ll allow our precious princess to decide what she wishes to share.”
Thank you, Narine thought. She set her jaw and looked back at Adyn. “Things were going quite well until you interrupted. Why the repeated visits last night and this morning? What could be so important?”
Adyn moved closer to the bed, while Jace began retrieving his knives. She put one foot up on the footboard and leaned an elbow on her knee while facing Narine. “While you two were enjoying yourselves, the rest of us were dealing with something far more serious.”
Narine pressed her lips together, nostrils flaring. “Just spit it out, Adyn. You know I hate it when you hold back information.”
“Lord Raskor is dead.”
A shock-filled silence fell over the room, the words repeating in Narine’s head. Lord Raskor is dead? She struggled to process the information. Salvon said the man was fine, fully recovered from the attack.
“Dead?” Jace strapped a blade to his wrist. “What happened?”
The bodyguard shook her head. “I don’t know for sure. Salvon was with him in the throne room antechamber. The old man said he and Raskor were having a discussion when the wizard lord suddenly grew pale. Moments later, Raskor fell to the floor, convulsing and foaming at the mouth.” Adyn’s brow furrowed. “Sounds like poison to me. Salvon believes it has something to do with the dragon’s magic. Perhaps it tainted the man’s blood.”
Memories of the wizard lord ran through Narine’s mind, a man she had only met two days prior. Raskor had immediately seemed different than her father or Malvorian. Unlike the other two, this wizard lord seemed to love his family and prioritize his people above his own ambitions. Sympathy for Raskor’s wife doused her curiosity about the cause of his death.
Ariella must be devastated. She sucked in a breath. Poor Priella.
The man’s daughter, a woman Narine’s own age, remained at the University in Tiadd, many miles away. Priella had enrolled in the school not long before Narine, and the two princesses had lived on the same floor. Despite adjacent rooms, there was little she had in common with Priella, so they had never grown close. Priella was very unlike Narine in both appearance and nature, the woman dour and moody, preferring seclusion over interacting with others. It saddened Narine from time to time, but numerous attempts at striking up a friendship had proven unsuccessful, Priella consistently spurning her attempts.
While the princess from Pallanar had chosen to remain a recluse, Narine had been forced into such a role. Even after eight years at the school, there were few she would call a friend. Students had seemed to avoid her and the other royalty from the beginning, and the situation only grew worse after Narine’s incident with Kollin, the last boy she had kissed before Jace.
Poor Kollin…
Although years had passed and his physical wounds had healed long ago, she feared her accident had left long-lasting scars of an invisible nature.
“The Darkening will occur in Marquithe today,” Jace said, disturbing the silence.
Adyn frowned at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He pulled on his coat and adjusted the collar. “Didn’t you listen to Salvon and his theory about a balance to magic?”
Narine’s eyes grew round. “Another wizard lord has died! Three would disrupt the balance even greater than before.”
“Exactly, but only until mid-morning today. When the moon eclipses the sun over Marquithe, a new wizard lord will be crowned, again leaving two thrones vacant.” His eyes narrowed. “It all seems too contrived for coincidence.”
With Malvorian dead and the wizards of Marquithe reputedly off fighting in the conquest of Ghealdor, Narine wondered who would become the next wizard lord of Farrowen. Her worries then shifted to her own wizardom and the city she had abandoned to her brother.
Is Eldalain still alive, prepared to assume the throne when spring arrives? Or is he dead with the city now under control of Farrowen? If the latter has occurred, prayers from Fastella’s populace could feed additional power to Malvorian’s successor. She worried who might gain such abilities, twice the power of any other wizard lord. What might such power make possible?
A squall of worry began to storm in the pit of her stomach, the rumble easily heard in the quiet room.
Adyn laughed. “Your stomach sounds angry with you.”
Jace walked toward the door. “That is why I am heading to the kitchen.” He gave Narine a mischievous smirk. “I’ll return soon with foo
d and something to drink. You’ll need your energy for what I have planned later.”
As the door closed, Adyn turned toward Narine with her brow again arched. “Well, well. You seem to have had a healthy exposure to the more…adventurous of bedroom activities.”
Despite her attempt to remain unaffected, Narine felt her cheeks warming. She slid to the edge of the bed, clutching the covers to her chest as she pointed across the room, to a white robe hanging on a hook near the copper tub. “Will you please fetch me the robe?”
Adyn did as requested, not saying a word until she stopped two strides away, the robe hanging from a finger. “You must be able to share something about last night.”
Narine pressed her lips together, then blew out a breath. “Fine. Hand me the robe first.”
When Adyn extended her arm, Narine swiped the robe from her and fumbled with it before sliding it around her shoulders. She slipped in her arms and held it together with her fist while rising to stand. The tiled floor was cold beneath her feet.
“I have seen you naked many times before. Why the sudden shyness?” Adyn asked.
“I… I don’t know exactly,” Narine said, frowning. “I certainly wasn’t shy last night.”
“I noticed.”
Narine chuckled. “Yes. We were about to…. We were preoccupied when you knocked.” She headed toward the tub. A bath sounded wonderful. “Can you find a porter and have he or she bring water up for a bath?”
“You are avoiding the issue, Narine.”
Stopping, she turned toward Adyn. “You want to know about last night?”
Adyn gave a nod, adding, “Let’s hear it.”
Narine thought back to the evening. She was a bit awkward at first, but he was gentle, understanding, and knew his way around a woman’s body. “It was nice the first time. Better the second. Wonderful the third. Perhaps even better the fourth.”
Adyn arched a brow. “Four? It appears our thief has stamina.”
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