Chapter 27

“Read it to us,” Ezza said as he carefully put the cube back in the box. “Don’t skip any words though, even the big ones.”

Aden gave a raised eyebrow to the governor who answered the silent question with a nod of approval, setting down his own sheaf of papers. Settling into a chair and placing the text in front of him Aden began.

I, Agis Wayturn, Captain of the Border Forces of the Province of Hippatia, wholly swear that the testimony I am dictating is the whole truth of the events that just occurred. May the gods preserve our souls.

The Dominion King’s fleet of five ships appeared in the harbor on the morning of the third day of the third month. He had not sent a courier or notice of any sort that he was coming to the province. As we hastily assembled an honor guard to welcome our king, the harbor master informed us that the ships were flying their battle flags. We had not heard of any piracy at sea for several years and the borders were well contained without additional levies or requests for royal aid. We were confused.

We were assembling in the warehouse district when the secretary of the Lord High Mage came running into our midst. He informed me that something was terribly amiss on the royal ships and that we were all in great danger. He told us to arm ourselves with our most potent weapons and to seek shelter from the expected first barrage. The governor arrived as the mage explained that warped magics enveloped the ships such had not been seen in so many centuries that the annals of the mages mentioned the war against such magics only in the first pages of their ancient tomes. He had barely finished speaking when a screeching whine sounded overhead followed by an explosion that shook the buildings and knocked us off our feet.

“Get to shelter,” the mage yelled as he ran back to the Mage’s Hall. I never saw him again. I am not even sure he made it back to the Hall. The city was besieged by wave after wave of incoming explosions that crumbled weak buildings and deafened the ears. When there was a lull, I ventured out to look at the destruction, most of the city was intact and untouched by the explosions. Only the area surrounding Mage Hall was burning, and then again, only those streets and buildings too far away to be protected by mage magic. The Governor’s Hall took a hit too.

As I surveyed the damage, a mighty arc of mage magic from Mage Hall lanced over the rooftops and struck a royal ship at the waterline. From my perch, I watched the water boil and steam for a moment and then, I could not believe my eyes, the ship simply sank. The wood did not buckle or explode; the entire huge structure just went down. A second arc was released, and another ship sank. As far as I could see, which was not the best at such a distance, there was no flotsam or jetsam or bodies. The ship was there and then the ship was gone.

The remaining ships began to maneuver in the harbor and, if only for an instant, a milky white bubble encased each one and then in the same instant, disappeared. I rubbed my eyes, disbelieving what I saw. A third arc struck another ship, only this time the mage magic crawled over the planks and masts of the ships until it dissipated. The ship appeared unharmed until a horrible sound of shattering glass, piles and piles of it, filled the whole harbor. The ship wobbled like a child’s toy in a shaken bucket. The ship began to shake itself apart, little pieces at first falling from the crow’s nest and the railings. Then larger and larger pieces began to fall until the ship collapsed upon itself and slipped under the water. Again, there were no bodies.

One of the surviving ships had maneuvered to line up its prow with Mage Hall. A terrible searing blast of (I’m at a loss for words) unhealthy or twisted mage fire, emerged from the prow. Mage fire is blue, healthy and pleasing to the eyes, but this salvo was almost silver or grey. Instead of traveling over the rooftops, the blast tore through the streets and buildings from the harbor, through the warehouses and neighborhoods to Mage Hall. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people lost their lives in a fiery instant.

When the debris stopped falling and the smoke cleared, Mage Hall stood, looking as serene as ever. Then nothing happened. Nothing. No mage emerged from the locked doors.

As my men surfaced to join me, the ship that had fired the salvo docked at the pier closest to the rent in the ground. The voice of a man laughing manically and amplified in some unworldly manner wafted over the city. The governor stood with me as a man on a horse leapt recklessly from the ship’s deck onto the pier and galloped up the hill through the rent. A company of men disembarked and followed the rider, but something was odd about them. They walked stiffly, almost as if they could not balance themselves naturally. They wore the king’s colors.

The governor ordered me to rush to Mage Hall and I called my men to formation. Taking an unscathed route, we made our way upward and then turned left to approach Mage Hall from south, using a side street.

King Cellen was there, still astride his horse. He was hurtling curses and throwing bolts of unholy mage fire at the building. His body, the parts that showed from his body, was pale white and shining with a whitish-greenish glow that made my eyes want to shy away. His eyes were white too, no pupils or color. When he stared at you, you could feel your soul shrivel.

His men stood stock still. I was not sure they were alive. After the battle at Crestfall when I walked the field, I am still not sure they were alive. Their bodies were like dried fruit, hardly any flesh underneath. No one could bear touching the bodies with their bare hands; we used shovels and forge tools to roll the royal guard into the burial pits. I digress.

When those unholy eyes latched upon me, the king stopped, looking confused and unsettled. Then he bellowed at us, “I am your king. Bow before me.”

His mouth was like a black maw. Yet, he was our king, and I had no doubt he could slay us easily. I went down on one knee and my men followed. “King Cellen,” we declared.

“King Cellen the Conquerer,” he shrieked at us. “I have conquered, and I have vanquished all the mages of my kingdom and beyond, to the feet of the un-scalable heights of Gorkind. I have plumed their secrets and turned their traitorous magics against them. I am Cellen the Conquerer and I rule the world!”

I did not know how to reply. I remained silent, wondering if I would see my wife and children after this terrible day.

The king continued. “These mages can hide behind their magic shield, but it will not save them. Like rats in a well, they will either drown or crawl out to meet my deadly wrath. Bring food and drink for me and my men. We will decamp here and besiege this building.”

“As you command,” I managed to say as I rose from my knee. I walked as quickly as a could back to the governor and made my report. He sent servants with the food while we retreated to his compound. We had no idea of what to do and no way to contact the mages either.

Each day I reported to the king and asked for his commands. He gave none. I would bow and leave. For fifteen days, I came, asked, and returned.

On the sixteenth day, the king had a question. “From where do these mages get their materials from? Where were these great sheaths of metal smelted?”

“The mages use the forges at the Fortress of Crestfall, three hundred leagues north on the Mage’s highway.”

“What?” he screamed with such fury that a cold piercing wind blew me over and tore the royal canopy to shreds. “The little vermin have escaped to their fortress while I sat idling at their front door. I should strike you dead for not telling me of this fortress.”

I shat my pants. I am not ashamed to admit it on the public record. Still, I thought an instant death was preferable to the life of the royal guard who did not move or utter a word.