“It seems the Vulak have a new god,” King Allaind said.
The scene on the table showed the Vulak, rather than take the stone, gesture for the key-bearer, clearly a leader among the Vulak, to keep it. The two then walked, and Reginald had the map follow them. “They’re heading to the portal. We’re going to have to act now.”
“I’ll gather as many soldiers as I can by the north gate,” the King said. “If they walk fast, they will take a quarter hour to reach the portal.”
“My knights can be there with time to spare,” Prince Reginald said. “I know a route through the alleys so we can avoid the crowded main streets, but I must head out now. Whatever plans you make, assume we will be riding straight to the gate. Archers and sorcerers aiding us from the gatehouse would earn our gratitude.”
“Us?” Allaind asked. “You will lead your knights personally? You are a king; you cannot risk your life so. Your people should not have to suffer two dead kings in so short a time.”
“I’m not planning on getting killed,” Reginald said. “If things don’t go as planned, I’m not actually the king yet and my brother, Estephan will be. He’s as good a man as I am, and would be as good a king as I will be. Now, we haven’t the time to debate this.” Reginald left the room.
“I’ll gather the archers,” Sheillene said. “We’ll be at the gatehouse before the knights leave. We can run along the wall faster than the knights can traverse the alleys of the city on horseback.”
“I’ll inform the Wizards,” Kehet said.
“No,” General Shera said. “I already have; they are in the palace. I should warn you that your friend is not among them. She is still in meditation. She had a bit of an accident the other day and though no one was hurt, the old school is now a small lake in the middle of the foreign quarter. The school has been forced to relocate her to the Sorcery College. They have a ‘cloud room’ high above the city. There’s nothing to hurt up there and the room was designed to be a training ground for damaging spells.”
“Mirica hasn’t returned with word from the sorcerers,” Thomas said. “I should run there.”
“I can get there faster than you,” Pantros said. “I’m used to moving quickly through crowds. I know the stories of me would never say, but I don’t always get away with my pilfering without being noticed. There are times I’ve had to make some rapid escapes.” Pantros turned to the King, “I assume, Your Majesty, that I am no longer required to stay in the palace.”
“Just run,” The King said. “As my zealous colleague pointed out, time is short.”
The rooftops of Melnith were not as uniform as those of Ignea or even those of Fork, but they were still faster to traverse than the streets. It didn’t take long for Pantros to reach the Sorcerer’s college.
One of dozens of students wearing white robes and running around the frenzied campus stopped Pantros. “You can’t be here,” the student said. “Only sorcerers are allowed on these grounds.”
“I’m on orders from the King,” Pantros said. “I need to find Mirica.”
“You?” the student said snidely while looking at Pantros from toe to head, “You don’t bear the king’s arms. You look like a street urchin who’d just raided a silk merchant’s shop.”
“Actually a very good assessment,” Pantros said. “But I’m still a messenger for the King, and I will be continuing on. A direction would be helpful.”
“I think not,” the student said. He began gesturing with his hands and murmuring.
Pantros couldn’t take the time to deal with the student properly. He drew his sword and slammed the bell into the student’s head then ran to the shadows of the nearest building. No one seemed to be reacting to the slumped student in the courtyard. The other students continued to run about, too focused on their goals to be distracted. *Did you just hit an Abvi with me?*
“Not now, sword,” Pantros said. “But, yes.” He sheathed the blade. The smooth white marble that every building in the Sorcerers College seemed to be made of made climbing difficult, but he managed to get atop one of the smaller towers. He then looked around, trying to see where Mirica would be with the gathered Elders. He could see them in a courtyard moving together towards the tallest tower. He slid down the wall and rolled to his feet then sprinted.
“Mirica!” He called when he was in sight of her.
She stopped. The others with her stopped as well. “What are you doing here?” She asked. “We are just going to discuss whether to fight or not.”
“There’s no time to discuss anything,” Pantros said. “Reginald is riding out now to assault the Vulak by the gate. We think they are going to use the stone immediately.”
“We’re not going to rush our decision,” One of the men with Mirica said. “Using magic to kill is against our code. Breaking that code is not something we do lightly.”
Mirica said, “The code is not an oath, it’s a guideline. Pantros is right; we don’t have time to debate. I’m going to help the Prince. Any others that would help, come with us.”
“You’d risk losing your post at the school?” The man said.
“When the alternative is losing my world to demons,” Mirica said. “There’s really nothing to debate. Of course I would risk my post.”
“I’m taking this to debate, we’ll discuss this deviation from the code later,” the man said then nodded with his head towards the door to the tower. “Come, Elders, lets decide like civilized Abvi.”
Mirica cast a spell and Pantros’ feet lifted off the ground. She said, “I can’t teach you to fly, but I can make you light enough to carry. Let’s go.” She grabbed Pantros’ hand and flew off towards the north gates of the city.
Pantros looked back to see that all but three of the Elders were following Mirica. Ahead, Pantros could see the city gates were open. The Abvi soldiers, however, were not leaving the city. Reginald and his knights were visible over the walls. They had already engaged the Vulak by the monuments surrounding the gate. The Vulak had surged, however and were defending the gate.
“There!” Pantros pointed with his free hand to the Vulak in the red and gold armor. “He has the gem.”
Mirica alit atop the Gatehouse then cast a quick spell returning Pantros’s weight. She then started casting a spell that Pantros recognized as the same one she’d used against Robirt. When the wake flew out across the battlefield, it stopped a few paces before the Vulak. The Vulak in the red robes stood nearby holding out both hands toward Mirica.
“The Vulak in the robes,” Mirica said. “I don’t know what kind of magic he’s using but it’s not of this world and it’s strong.”
“Is he a god?” Pantros asked.
Mirica cast another spell and her eyes glowed with a violet light. “He’s a demon,” She said. “Not a god.”
The well-armored Vulak produced the stone and the robed Vulak gestured then the key floated into the air. The gem glided into a socket above the gate and the gate flashed, leaving a shimmering portal. Immediately, dark creatures emerged from the portal, one after another.
“Demons,” Mirica said. “We’re too late.”
Sheillene ran to the edge of the wall and drew her bow then released it. Her arrow flew out the hundreds of paces to the gate and struck the gem but failed to dislodge it. Two more of her arrows hit the gem. “It’s magically held,” she said. “Our only hope is for Reginald to make it to the gate and recover that gem.”
The demons continued to come through and all anyone could do was watch. Sheillene and the other archers who could shoot that far managed to hit a few of the demons and some of those fell to the ground. They didn’t vanish like the hellhounds had.
Realizing even the Vulak were all watching the gate, Pantros wondered if he could get close enough to take the gem and run before anyone could react. “Mirica, are you sure you can’t make me fly?”