The high mage rose from the chair and paced before the fire, recalling the order the Dar’ota gave him when re-establishing the link last time.
We must move fast, Sephonis. My minions are dying and so we must begin the transitions earlier than anticipated. We will test the transition on any Rotians but we may require the use of some Shada-Kavielian soldiers. Find me men who will withstand the transition.
It was clear to Sephonis that the Dar’ota was desperate. Risking the process so early in the invasion campaign was proof of that. Some of the first Rotians they used died as the demons possessed their bodies but they had perfected the transition process quickly and now those men sitting locked below were due to be host to more of the minions from a dead realm.
The Shada-Kavielians who had been possessed were a necessity when the borders required attention. The demons residing in their bodies were chosen specifically by the Dar’ota as they were fast and efficient killers who could cover great distances in a short time. Sephonis had thought Rotians to be better used as border guards but the Dar’ota wanted Shada-Kavielians. The high mage still could not work out why this was.
He came to a halt and stared down into the flickering flames before him. He felt little heat from the fire despite standing mere inches away.
“
Let’s hope the Rotians know we’re here by now,” he whispered to himself.
Chapter 24
Talgan strode down the corridor, heading for the meeting chambers. His mind was going over all possible reasons for being urgently summoned. One thought kept surfacing though and a cold dread settled in Talgan’s stomach as he walked.
He had been at home giving thought to his journey with the king across to the eastern side of the kingdom. Ever since he had agreed to go, the young nobleman had been anxious for news of departure. When the messenger had arrived and explained that Afaron demanded an audience with all available council members, Talgan’s immediate thought was that the king was to announce they were setting off soon. However, the messenger had worn a grim expression and his face was ashen.
Talgan turned a corner and saw the double doors to the meeting chambers were open. Voices echoed from within and the first person Talgan saw was Karrid, who stood gazing out of a window. His troubled face was illuminated by the sunlight.
He stepped into the room and immediately saw the rest of the council sitting or standing nearby. To a man, they all wore the same expression as Karrid. Afaron was at the centre of the room but Talgan’s eyes were drawn to the strangers who stood before the king. As he moved closer, responding to Jolas’ beckoning finger, he saw that there were six men and a woman within the group of newcomers. The only soldier amongst them was in conversation with Afaron and, as Talgan approached, he realized that four of the men and indeed the woman could only have been in their early twenties or late teen years.
Jolas moved towards Talgan and placed a hand on his shoulder, leading him away from the conversation.
“
We have received shocking news,” began the elderly councillor. “The Rotian Kingdom is under attack.”
Talgan felt the colour drain from his face and hid his trembling hands behind his back. This was what he had feared. “What…what do you mean?”
Jolas glanced back over his shoulder. “Those youngsters over there were in Barentin and were caught in a sudden, unprovoked and brutal attack by soldiers wearing blackened armour. They are not a force known to these lands.
The tall sturdy lad is Celestius Orgillian’s son, Gorric. We fear Celestius was lost at Barentin.”
Talgan glanced at Gorric and saw the likeness between father and son. “And the others?”
“
The soldier is a corporal from Turambar and the eldest is a man from a settlement opposite the fortress. They have travelled here to warn us what has happened.”
Talgan listened as Jolas repeated what the new arrivals to Vylandor had told them as soon as they stood before Afaron. He explained the invasion in the north which destroyed Barentin, Tamriel and Turambar, plus the taking of Boraila. Hundreds of Rotian lives lost and both soldiers and civilians alike taken away by the dark foreigners.
“
What more do we know about these invaders?” asked Talgan, feeling faint but steadying himself.
Jolas shook his head. “Not much. Gorric and his young friends encountered one with the ability to use magic. He killed the acolyte’s companion before they managed to escape.
Another who was clearly a trained killer they encountered below Turambar. Apparently the corporal, Ilkar, was mortally wounded by the man but survived somehow. Ilkar explained that the same foreigner also shot and killed Sarin, the captain of Turambar.”
As Talgan opened his mouth to ask another question, he heard Afaron’s voice boom across the room.
“
Begin mustering the army. Send word to all villages, towns and cities warning them of this attack on the kingdom.”
“
Sire, it will take time to muster the full strength of our army,” Jolas pointed out.
Afaron’s ferocious gaze settled on the eldest councillor. “Then I suggest you get to it. I will lead the army based here north immediately so as to gauge this new enemy but we will await the other Rotian forces before engaging them in battle.”
“
You
will lead the men?” Jolas looked horrified. “Sire, with all due respect, you do not know what awaits you to the north.”
“
I have spoken,” the king growled. “Karrid, alert Toresin of what is happening and tell him to increase security across Vylandor. Talgan?”
Talgan, whose mind was being plagued with dark thoughts, looked up at Afaron with wild eyes. “Sire?”
“
We won’t be going on our excursion after all so I want you to become a man of the people here whilst I journey north. Walk the city and ensure that supplies are in order. Also, I want you to visit the ship captains moored in Vylandor and explain that they should avoid the Ulmerien at this time.”
Talgan nodded. “I will do as you ask.”
“
What of our fleet?” Karrid asked the king. “Will you require them to sail north?”
“
Not yet. Tell them to prepare themselves though to defend our waters.”
“
Sire, I am ready to serve the Rotian army and would like to travel with you when you go north.”
Silence descended on the room as all eyes turned to Gorric Orgillian, who had dropped to one knee before Afaron. Behind Gorric, Kithia looked on in disbelief at her brother’s willingness to return to the evil they had left behind.
Afaron placed a strong hand on Gorric’s shoulder. “I understand how you feel but I simply cannot permit that. You are untrained and I need experienced men.”
“
Please, sire,” said Gorric, looking up into the king’s troubled face. “You need someone there who knows what to expect. You need someone who has faced them and fought against them. I need to know…I need to find my family.”
“
I am sorry, Gorric. You have showed immense courage and determination in escaping the invasion so as to warn us but let us now deal with working out how to repel these foreigners. Your father would not want you placed back in danger needlessly.”
Anger flashed across Gorric’s face and he fought to control his emotions. “My father was left behind in Barentin and I need to know his fate. I must go back.”
Afaron looked at Ilkar. “Corporal, will you join me when we go north? You have battled many of them and I would appreciate you riding with us.”
“
Of course, sire,” Ilkar replied, glancing at Gorric and seeing the young rotian shudder.
“
Excellent.” The king shifted his attention back to Gorric. “My word is final but, should you wish to serve the kingdom as your father intended, then you will join the other recruits. Study hard, train hard…before you know it, you will be amongst the ranks of the Rotian army. We will need men like you, Gorric, but you must be prepared for what is to come.
In the meantime, we will work to find those who were taken and will keep you informed with our progress. How does this sound?”
Gorric slowly rose, tears glistening in his eyes. “I will do as you wish, sire. I will train with the recruits.”
“
You don’t have to do this,” cried Kithia, grasping her brother by the arm. “What of me?”
“
You are a noblewoman,” Afaron stated. “We will arrange accommodation for you and also your friends. You will be honoured guests in Vylandor.”
“
Gorric is the only family I have left.” Kithia stared meaningfully into the king’s eyes. “If anything were to happen to him…”
“
Gorric will be based at the training barracks and you will be able to see him still. The days ahead will be difficult however. As for you, Kithia Orgillian, you will be required to remain close to the council for some time. Your experience and knowledge will be vital.”
Kithia exchanged knowing looks with Gorric and her shoulders sagged. “Very well.”
“
Sire, may I request something?” asked Khir, who had remained silent throughout their time in the chambers.
Afaron nodded for him to proceed.
“
I have skill with the bow and would like to join Gorric at the training barracks.”
Gorric turned to look at his friend and shook his head. “No, Khir. You are not a soldier. Don’t do this just because I am.”
“
Believe it or not, I have my own mind,” snapped Khir. “I too lost my family and Gorric is like a brother to me so I cannot simply sit back and do nothing.”
“
If this is what you want then so be it,” smiled Afaron. “We desperately need talented bowmen and I would be honoured for you to join our recruits.”
“
Thank you, sire.”
Gorric noticed a strange glint in Khir’s eye as his friend bowed to Afaron. Khir was a forester’s son and had never expressed any interest in joining the army before. The outburst from Khir back in the settlement after he had killed one of the attacking soldiers had led Gorric to see how uncomfortable his friend was when taking a life. If he became a bowman in the ranks, Khir would be expected to kill again.
“
Cullen, you have already explained that you will be joining the rest of the people from your settlement,” Afaron remarked, addressing the spokesman.
“
Indeed, sire,” nodded Cullen, eagerly. “I just wished to see these youngsters safely here.”
“
You have my gratitude. Before you depart, please ensure you have everything you need. Food, water and other supplies are at your disposal.” Afaron’s gaze shifted to Rynn and Varayan. “We haven’t forgotten the two of you either. You will join Kithia as guests of honour here.”
As Rynn clumsily bowed, not sure what to do in the king’s presence, Varayan raised one hand to attract attention.
“
Actually, I could do with a bath.”
Chapter 25
Balthus studied the face of the tyllasi looming over him, noting the two scars running parallel from the man’s temple down to his upper lip.
“
We don’t trust those who hide behind tricks and illusions,” growled the mercenary.
“
I can imagine trust is a hard thing to come by amongst the Tyllasi,” stated Balthus, glancing at the man’s two companions standing to his left.
The invoker was frustrated that he had allowed himself to be cornered by the three tyllasi in one of Boraila’s many alleys. He had spent time walking the city, as Sephonis had suggested, but had decided to follow some of the Tyllasi who seemed eager to cause unrest amongst the soldiers. However, they had noticed him and had managed to cunningly lead him into a dead end where he now found himself.
“
Why were you spying on us?” demanded the scarred tyllasi.
Balthus smiled. “You looked like you were heading for trouble so I was merely following to ensure there was no conflict. Sephonis would be most displeased if fighting broke out between his men and the Tyllasi.”
The mercenary hesitated upon hearing the name of the high mage. “Vortain may bow down to Sephonis but that doesn’t mean we have to.”
“
But Vortain is your leader, is he not? You follow his orders.”
“
Enough,” snapped the tyllasi. “We don’t like being spied on so, now we’ve caught you, what can you offer to avoid the consequences?”
“
I only have one thing to offer,” sighed Balthus. “But I doubt you’d like it.”
The tyllasi gave a deep laugh. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“
As you wish.” Balthus muttered an incantation and flame erupted from his palm, leaping in an instant to the tyllasi’s legs.
The mercenary reeled backwards and cried out in pain as the flames burnt through his leggings. His companions backed away quickly and, with a fearful look at Balthus, turned and fled into the night.
“
Tricks and illusions?” Balthus watched as the tyllasi fell to the ground, writhing in agony as the flames quickly began spreading up his body. “Does that feel like an illusion?”
“
Put it out,” pleaded the mercenary as he began rolling in the street.
“
Do not forget your place, tyllasi,” snarled Balthus. He closed his hand and the flames flickered and died instantly. “Sephonis’ power is greater than mine so imagine what he would do if you caused trouble here.”