The flower fields of Eo stretched towards jutting hills. The morning sun had not yet reached either, its blazing glory held back by massive mountains. Over a million people were camped among the vibrant greenery. Their tents and clothing fluttered in a strong breeze as they all faced a clearing in the field.
Around the perimeter, soldiers raised wooden crosses. Others heaved the bodies of dead elves up onto them, securing them with ropes and nails. In the center of the clearing was a giant pyre. Montre guards and Vashn knights carried the bodies of their fallen comrades to it, respectfully placing them among the wood.
Donovan stood in front of the pyre, flanked by his masters and guests. His hair and cape were buffeted by the wind, but he barely registered their movements. Instead he watched the procession of dead bodies as they were brought to the pile.
After the last of the knights lowered their brethren, a single figure approached. It was the Unfeeling-One, the blind Montre champion. He carried the body of his father, Crooked-Fang, wrapped in purple cloth. Everyone was silent as they watched the lizard reach the pyre. The Unfeeling One gingerly placed the blanket onto the wood. He straightened up, turning as another Montre brought him a torch. He took it, holding it over the pile.
Donovan's expression was hardened. The Unfeeling One bent down and held the torch against the wood, keeping it there. Smoke drifted up, the fire spreading through the wood. It crackled as the sound of splitting timber drifted over the field. The flames spread, and soon the entire pyre was engulfed. Donovan watched the smoke pour up into the sky.
"My king," A voice said. He turned, seeing Lyra beside him. She was flanked by Tokaroaka and the Order Master Hayume, as well as Greis, the master of ships. Behind them was Belok and the remaining servants who had survived last night's attack. Lyra looked past Donovan at the pyre, then met his gaze with the same hardened expression he wore. "We must speak,"
"How many did we lose," Donovan said, turning back to the burning pile. The wind picked up, tugging his cape against him.
Lyra drew her cloak to her, the other masters watching. "At least a hundred Montre, and as many knights. We also lost many servants, as well as crew for our warships,"
Donovan's gaze found the Unfeeling One, who stood framed against the flames. The Montre seemed unfazed by the smoke and fire billowing mere feet in front of him. "I'm going to make Crooked-Fang's son the new commander of my forces," Donovan said. "But I will be losing a champion in the process," He glanced at the gathered servants. "Unless you masters know of a better candidate," None of them spoke. Donovan nodded. "Very well, he will be one of you, from this day forth. As for the servants and crew, find competent refugees to replace them,
The Unfeeling One lifted his head to the sky, his tongue forking out briefly. He turned, walking away from the burning pyre. "Unfeeling One," Lyra called. "Your king has something to say to you,"
The blind leper shifted in the direction of her voice, approaching. He stopped a respectable distance in front of Donovan. The young man cleared his throat. "In light of your father's passing, I am in need of a new commander of my armies," The other Montre slowly gathered to witness the exchange. "Kneel," Donovan said. The Unfeeling One got on one knee, lowering his head. Donovan approached, raising his voice so that all could hear. "Your father served me well," In response, the Montre surrounding the Unfeeling One banged their tridents once on the ground. Donovan took a deep breath, then continued. "Two battles he led, and two battles he won," Again the Montre banged their tridents on the ground. "He was always by my side, aiding me at the Capital, at the Risen Node, and at Caldus Bramble," The Montre banged their tridents three times. The Unfeeling One kept his head lowered, listening. "He saved my life against assassins, giving his own in the process," The lizard warriors began beating their tridents in a steady beat, filling the air with the sound. "With his death," Donovan paused, the rhythm of the tridents shaking the ground. "I am now in need of a new commander of my legions. So I have made a decision. From this day forth, you will be known as Commander Fangson, leader of the armies of Vashn," The Unfeeling One, now known as Fangson, raised his head to look up at Donovan with unseeing eyes. The Montre continued to bang their tridents, the sound growing faster. Donovan lifted a hand. "Rise,"
Fangson did so, slowly bringing his fist to his chest in a salute. "My King,"
Donovan nodded, looking out over the gathered Montre. "Look upon your new leader! Commander Fangson, master of the armies of Vashn!"
The Montre raised their tridents in the air. "HAIL! HAIL COMMANDER FANGSON!"
The wind shifted as wood within the pyre cracked, sending up a plume of smoke. Over a million faces watched as Fangson turned and stared upon the fire. Donovan studied the blind Montre, then looked for Mark. He found the man standing among the masters, alongside Reqart, Babi and Princess Esymia. They were all dressed in heavy cloaks against the wind, as well as hoods.
Donovan walked through the masters, who parted for him. He paused by Tokaroaka. "Bring me the head of the elf leader," He said, then continued on. Reaching Mark, he stopped, then looked to Princess Esymia. The elf pulled the side of her hood close to her face, looking away. Donovan turned his gaze back to his friend. "Mark,"
"Donovan," The man said, his tone somber and tinged with weariness.
"I'm going to summon Ozadias. I want to know what those things are that attacked us,"
Mark nodded. "He'd probably know,"
Donovan gestured vaguely. "Do you have any, I don't know, sand or something,"
Mark reached into his robe, drawing out a leather pouch. Donovan held out his hand. "I'll do it," Mark said, opening the pouch. He knelt down, pouring a fine white powder on the ground. The wind swept away some of it. Mark replaced it and pressed it into the ground with his thumb. He spat in the center. "Ozadias,"
A flash, followed by smoke, appeared in the air. When it cleared, the spirit of wisdom, Ozadias, hovered in front of them. He wore the same flowing garments he always wore, as well as his floppy, pointed hat. The brim was low, covering his face in shadow.
Donovan raised his chin, fixing the spirit with an unflinching stare. Tokaroaka came up beside him, a cloth bundle in his hands. Donovan took the bundle from him, slowly unwrapping it. The cloth fell away to reveal the head of a grayed elf, its face covered in markings. Donovan unceremoniously tossed the head. It landed in the grass before Ozadias. "What is this," The young man said.
Ozadias didn't bother looking. He bobbed in the air, his robes moving in the wind. "Greetings heroes," the spirit said, bowing its head.
"I asked you a question," Donovan said. "Answer it,"
"They are known as Shades," Ozadias said. "Once Guardians, but no longer. They are creatures borne of smoke and shadow,"
Princess Esymia approached, looking up at Ozadias. "Spirit," She said, her voice clear. "Such things are abominations to my kind. Who did this," A look of pain crossed her face, but only briefly. "Who is responsible,"
Ozadias tilted his head slightly, though his face was still obscured by his floppy hat. "There are many who have had a hand in such practices. Though I heard the voice of the one who first commanded them. Calstar, of House Sarius,"
Princess Esymia slowly closed her eyes. Donovan had a feeling she had already known the answer. "Brother," She said, her voice quiet. "What have you done,"
Donovan narrowed his eyes. "So they're what, zombies? Undead elf ninjas? How many are left?"
Ozadias glanced up at the sky, streaks of yellow heralding the rising sun. The spirit looked back at Donovan. "These lands hold a power in them that shields much from my gaze and knowledge, I can say little to answer your questions, save that a Guardian need not be dead to become a Shade. The ritual must be performed, on a certain evening, during a certain season,"
Snorting, Donovan gestured Tokaroaka towards the head. "Wrap that back up," The sorcerer obeyed, though it was clear he tried to keep his distance from Ozadias. "Well," Donovan said. "You are little help to me so far. I plan to destroy this land, what am I to expect?"
"Donovan," Mark said, his voice strained. "You don-"
"Speak spirit," Donovan said, interrupting his friend.
Ozadias continued floating in the air. "What do you wish to hear of hero? I can tell you much of the history, the creatures and others who call these lands home,"
"How many will oppose us. What are there numbers,"
The spirit drew its long, floppy sleeves in, clasping its hands together. "I cannot give you an exact number. There were originally seven cities, and the Guardians numbered millions at one time. As the centuries have passed however, the changes in these lands have not been made known to me,"
Donovan turned to Princess Esymia. "Well?" He said. "Care to answer?"
The elf lowered her head, her hood obscuring her face. "There are only five cities now, but many places in Eo are called home by many creatures,"
Exhaling slowly, Donovan nodded. "Well then, it seems we have our work cut out for us,"
"Donovan," Mark said, taking a step forward. "I understand you're angry, but warring against the Guardians is not the answer,"
"Oh? And how exactly did you plan to get Reqart's mother back? Ask nicely? Barter?" Donovan narrowed his eyes. "This world is the same as ours. The universal language is violence, that is the only thing anyone truly understands,"
"No," Mark said, his tone stern. "That is the way of weak men. We are not weak men. We have power beyond anything else in this world. The power to change things without resorting to violence,"
"Really?" Donovan said, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what you were doing at the Risen Node? You destroyed thousands of demons, as well as my own soldiers, with a single spell,"
Mark's face fell, but the sorrow quickly passed. He met Donovan's gaze. "I do not have much say in my magic. The path I chose had unintended consequences, and I wear these bells so that others do not have to bare their burden,"
"How noble of you," Donovan said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Careful," Mark said, his own tone carrying a warning.
The two men stared at each other, their expressions hard. Lyra approached, putting a hand to Donovan shoulder. "My king," She said softly. "We await your orders,"
Before Donovan could respond, the ground began to tremble. Furrowing his brow in confusion, the young man looked around. The trembling grew, cries of panic and alarm spreading through the millions of pilgrims gathered on the field.
In the distance, the purple and silver trees swayed atop the jutting hills. A black mass emerged from the between the slopes, rapidly approaching. Donovan watched the mass grow closer and closer. "What the hell?" He murmured.
It revealed itself to be beasts, thousands upon thousands of them. They stampeded, baying into the air and kicking up dust. The pilgrims let out further cries of panic, rushing away from the approaching animals. Donovan took a step back, shocked.
"Fangson!" Lyra shouted. "Stop those animals!"
The blind leper reared back his head and yelled into the air, "Kiillll them!" He pointed his trident. Montre guards, Vashn knights and soldiers rushed forward in chaotic lines. Spells appeared in the air, raining fire and sharpened earth down on the stampeding beasts. They howled in pain, slamming into the ground and tripping up those charging behind them.
"Wait!" Mark yelled. "We don't have to slaughter them!"
"It's food you fool!" Lyra shouted, gesturing at the approaching mass. "We can feed our people for weeks with their meat!"
"We don't even know what they are!" Mark shouted back. "Or why they're stampeding!"
"No," Belok said, his voice a low rumble. "For once the Erie is right. I will feed these things to my warriors, for meat will keep them strong," He flapped his wings, sending grass and clothing trembling against the gale. Belok took off, letting out a roar. He was joined in the sky by other gargoyles, as well as giant owls, bats and crows. Belok stopped flapping, plunging down. At the last moment he opened his wings, soaring over the heads of the panicked beasts. He grabbed two, then flapped and flew back into the air. The other winged beasts did the same, diving down and pulling beasts from the herd.
The first of the animals reached Donovan's soldiers. They were met with pikes, tridents and spells. Cries of animal fury and pain rose up into the air, a massacre slowly unfolding. Donovan watched in a daze. Several of the beasts impacted against the pyre, sending up balls of fire. This only further panicked them, their cries reaching a fever pitch.
The butchering lasted twenty minutes. As the dust and noise settled, the fields were gripped in a strange haze. An eerie silence descended. Belok and his warriors circled above, dropping the animals they held to dash them against the ground. The bodies impacted with sounds that caused Donovan to wince. He turned away, noticing Reqart standing close to Mark. The boy held onto his father's robes for comfort. Babi rested a hand on Reqart's shoulder, an unreadable expression on her face.
"Fangson!" Lyra called. "We must gather the corpses, quickly! The meat must be preserved!" She turned, hurrying off towards the floating castle. It hovered low to the ground some distance away.
Donovan glanced at Ozadias, who watched the scene in silence. "You're dismissed," he said. The spirt disappeared in a puff of smoke. Donovan turned and slowly approached the piles of dead animals. He heard someone following, but didn't bother turning.
The beasts were like oxen, but none Donovan recognized. Their coats were a yellowish gold, and their horns folded together to form a near-perfect circle. Small nubs protruded from the circles, like thorns on a vine. The creatures' heads were oddly shaped as well, flat, and tall. Soldiers moved around Donovan, securing the beasts with ropes. They formed teams, pulling the bodies across the grass towards the castle.
"You got lucky," A voice said. Donovan looked over his shoulder, spotting Babi. He didn't reply, staring back down at the animals. She came up beside him, stopping. "Don't count on it holding out. These lands will consume you and everyone who follows you,"
"Tell me," Donovan said, his voice somber. "If you so desire. Did Grace raise you to be like her? Because all your haughty taunting is getting old,"
Babi didn't respond for a few moments, gazing upon the heaps of dead animals spread across the field. "She taught me everything I know,"
"Hm, that explains a lot. She was a royal bitc-"
"Don't finish that sentence," Babi said, though her tone was subdued. "Swearing doesn't suit you, it makes you seem like a child,"
Donovan sniffed, wiping his nose. "I suppose now is as good a time as any to ask why you came along. Did Grace tell you to kill me?"
Babi slowly shook her head, still gazing at the beasts. "I'm here to protect Reqart and Marcus, nothing more,"
"Then you're just as likely to die as us,"
"Maybe," Babi said, turning her head and gazing at Donovan. "But I am a Saint, and that makes me a lot more powerful than you,"
Donovan let out a single chuckle. "I don't know what that title means. And I doubt it, I'm a hero, which makes me as close to a god as you can get in this world,"
"Oh?" Babi said, raising an eyebrow. "And who told you that?"
"My own eyes, as well as Mark,"
Babi let out a laugh. "I've seen Marcus almost die a hundred times. If I or Grace wasn't there to save him, he would have. You bleed just the same as us,"
"True enough," Donovan said, conceding the point with a tilt of his head. "But between our martial and magic abilities, it's really not a contest. Trust me, I've dabbled in plenty of games concerning power, I recognize the hierarchies and rankings pretty damn well,"
"This is not a game," Babi said, her voice low.
Donovan didn't respond at first. The wind picked up, carrying the sound of the soldiers with it. They continued to work in teams, roping the beast corpses and dragging them across the grass. "I suppose I owe you an apology," Donovan said, turning to her. "Hanging you in front of my throne wasn't exactly…well, I was working under a lot of bad assumptions,"
"I do not think I would ever like to visit your world," Babi said, turning to face him. "If there are men like you there,"
The young man couldn't help but laugh. "Oh don't give me that. Your world has the same types of people as ours. You could say it's a fairly good imitation."
"I've met kings and princes across Lysseria. All of them treated their dogs better than you treat people,"
Donovan's expression soured, then softened. "I'm aware of what I did, and I'm trying to make it right,"
Babi looked unconvinced. "By burning Eo?"
"I mean," Donovan said, shrugging. "It'll get Reqart's mother back, right?" He glanced at the crosses surrounding the clearing. The bodies of the elves hung from them, their tattered clothing blowing in the wind. "And I'm not so sure this land is a paradise,"
"You're not so sure of anything it would seem," Babi said, scratching at her arm under her sleeve. "I will say this. I have seen the worst of you, and little of anything that would redeem you. The path you walk now is the same you've always walked,"
Donovan sighed. "You're like what, nineteen? Twenty? You talk like an old lady oracle or some shit,"
A hint of a smile played at the corner of Babi's mouth. "I've seen a lot, and was forced to grow up quickly. I'll see you die, if I'm lucky. Maybe by my own hand,"
"Yeah well, get in line," Donovan said, his tone low. He turned, walking away. He felt Babi's eyes on him as he did. He paused, turning back and pointing at her. "And you're hot, but not that hot, so cut that coy shit out,
if you wouldn't mind,"
Babi looked surprised, then let out a laugh. "Oh," She said, smiling. "You are by far the most insecure
king I have ever encountered,"
"Still a king though," Donovan said, scowling. He started towards the floating castle. "Might do you some good to remember that,"
The masters, as well as Montre guards and Vashn knights, streamed with Donovan towards Utan-Gora. The warriors dragged the carcasses of the animals, smearing the grass with dark blood. The floating castle waited ahead of them, hovering just barely above the ground. The drawbridge was lowered. It led up to the gate above the massive blood-fly hive it rested upon. Donovan joined together with the mob of people moving up it. They parted, giving him room.
Once in the columned room, the young man headed for the stairs to his throne. He was intercepted by Tokaroaka. "My king," The sorcerer said, hurrying up to him. He was followed by a Rook wearing a wooden mask and feathered cloak.
"Hm," Donovan said, pausing at the first step.
"My spies have returned from scouting the land," Tokaroaka said, bowing his head low. He turned, nodding to the Rook. "Tell him what you saw Cob,"
The Rook bowed as well. "A city approaches my king,"
"A city
approaches?" Donovan repeated. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I saw it myself," The Rook said, gesturing with a hand. "It's the tallest I have ever witnessed, with at least five rings of walls lying within each other, on the back of a great beast,"
Donovan stared a beat, then shook his head. "Fuck, a mobile Minis Tirith, just what I needed. And it's headed our way?" The Rook nodded. Donovan massaged his temples as he thought. "Alright, alright, here's what we're going to do, we're going to deal with this
Mortal Engines bullshit, and I mean
deal with it. I need to let these elves know I'm in town and I mean fucking business. Tokaroaka tell the ship master to prepare the fleet. Fangson should have his armies ready as well. And find Belok for me. We'll meet them head on,"
"Yes my king," Tokaroaka said, bowing quickly. He straightened up, grabbing the hem of his robe to hurry across the chamber.
The Rook bowed once as well, then turned. He came face-to-face with Princess Ninja, who had appeared from the shadows. The massive Rook towered over the smaller one, looking down at him. Donovan frowned, waiting to see what would happen. Princess Ninja lowered her head. Cob slowly lifted his mask, then put his hands on either side of her face. He pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry," He whispered, barely loud enough for Donovan to hear. After a beat he turned his head and lowered his mask, then hurried past her.
The young man watched him go, then turned to Princess Ninja. "Do you speak," Donovan said, his tone barely interested.
"Not if I can help it," Princess Ninja said, her voice gravely and strained. "I find it…painful, in this body,"
Donovan raised an eyebrow, appraising her. "Be a shame to waste your strength, and I do owe you for last night. What is it you wish to do here?"
Princess Ninja didn't respond at first. Finally she shifted. "I would like…to command my Rook again, in service to you,"
"Well," Donovan said, sighing. "I'm not so sure about that. Tokaroaka seems to be taking to it well enough, and it looks bad to be too indecisive. I learned that in a management class in college," Princess Ninja didn't respond, her shoulders rising and falling as she breathed. Donovan shrugged. "Still, I just lost a champion when I made Fangson commander of my armies. How good of a fighter are you?"
"You told me I did well last night, during the attack,"
Donovan nodded. "That you did," He mused, tapping his chin. "That you did. And you're still loyal to me?"
"I have only ever known your rule," Princess Ninja said, her voice cracking. "I have only ever served you, loyally,"
"I'll take your word for it," Donovan said, pausing. He snapped. "Tell you what. You told me once about traitors among my ranks. So I'll make you one of my champions, and I'll also let you run around my halls and ships and kill anyone who steps out of line. Kind of like a shadow enforcer. Would you like that?"
Princess Ninja's face was incapable of smiling, but Donovan could have sworn he saw the hint of one. A low growl escaped her mouth. "I would like that…a lot,"
"Excellent," Donovan said, clapping once. "Oh, but you're not allowed to touch Lyra, Fangson, Tokaroaka, Gries or Belok without my permission, understand? Oh, and
especially not Mark and Reqart. Those two are absolutely off limits,"
Princess Ninja bowed her head. "It…will be as you say, my king,"
"Cool," Donovan said, turning to his throne-stairs. "You're dismissed," He climbed the steps, feeling the lack of sleep as he did. When he reached the top, he found the throne and sat heavily in it.
"Master," A deep voice said.
Donovan didn't even have to lean forward to know who it was. "Is that you Belok? Good. We're about to embark on a collision course with an elf city, and it sounds like its got layers surrounded by walls. That means its going to be your time to shine,"
"Forgive me," Belok said, his voice echoing up the stairs. "I..am not sure what you mean my king,"
Donovan adjusted in the throne, getting comfortable. "I mean when I give you the signal, I want you to terrorize the fuck out its inhabitants,"
Belok chuckled, the sound raising the hairs on the back of Donovan's neck. "I will gather my warriors, my king. It will be my
pleasure,"
"Yeah I figured you'd like that," Donovan said, yawning. "Go on then, I'll let you know when it's time," Belok shifted, his heavy footsteps moving away. Donovan saw his massive form raise up and fly through the opening in the columns. The young man closed his eyes, attempting to nap.
He slipped into a half sleep, the movement of people waking him every so often. A voice finally roused him. "Donovan,"
The young man opened his eyes, then stood. Stretching, he approached the top of the stairs. At the bottom was Mark and Reqart. Babi and Princess Esymia were also present. Mark started up the steps. Tokaroaka also appeared from a staircase, hurrying to the base of the platform as Mark climbed. The shipmaster Greis followed.
"My king!" The sorcerer said. "We've loaded your soldiers onto the transports, and are ready to travel!"
"We've taken the most skilled from among the refugees," Greis said, hurrying to keep up. "And pressed them into service aboard our fleet!"
Donovan gestured idly. "Good, good, let's head out then,"
Tokaroaka reached the bottom step. "The refugees will not be able to keep up once we enter the hills and forests,"
"Did your scouts find anything dangerous?"
"They did not," Tokaroaka said, shaking his mask.
Donovan thought for a moment, putting his hand to his chin. He glanced at Mark, who was reaching the top of the stairs. "Well," Donovan said, shrugging. "They can always catch up later. I don't know where Lyra is, but tell her to make sure they have some of that meat from the beasts,"
Tokaroaka bowed. "It will be as you say my king,"
"Shipmaster, give the signal, move the fleet,"
The Uhnut grinned. "At once master!" He turned, rushing away with the sorcerer.
"Are we having fun?" Mark said, reaching the top and meeting the young man's gaze.
"Oh c'mon," Donovan said, returning to his throne and sitting heavily. "They have your elf wife, don't you want her back?" Mark sighed, snapping his fingers. Stone from the top of the platform heaved, then built up over itself to form a small stool. He sat down on it, facing Donovan. The young man pointed. "You better put that back when you leave, I don't want to trip over it,"
Mark rested his head in hands. "You are not making this easy Donovan,"
"Explain to me
exactly what you think I'm supposed to do here Mark," Donovan said, turning his head with a weary expression, Distant horns sounded, and the floating castle shifted. The plains began to pass beyond the columns, the jutting hills growing closer.
Mark kept his head in his hands, his voice drifting from between his fingers. "They're not a monolithic entity Donovan, we have no idea where Gwelenain is, or who's holding her,"
"So let's start raising hell. Kick over a few rocks, scatter the roaches. We'll get some answers soon enough,"
"What we'll get is a war," Mark said, raising his head to look at Donovan. "And I'm tired of those. I've been fighting one for almost seven years. There's better ways,"
"Oh Christ you sound like Grace and Babi," Donovan said. "We're not going to go around knocking on doors, at least not without a big stick,"
Mark held his gaze. "Donovan, this won't be like the Kingdom Alliance, or the Eastern Empire. The Guardians are like," He furrowed his brow. "Gah, it's been too long. Like Mexico fighting Cortez. You're outmatched and outgunned,"
"Oh you
have forgotten a lot. We used to be history buffs, remember? The conquistadors only won against the Aztecs because they had help. If anything, I'm like the Spanish, but with a bigger army,"
"Not the best group to model yourself after," Mark said, raising an eyebrow. "I remember that at least,"
"Well the metaphor breaks down if you think about it too hard," Donovan said, yawning. "You don't really know anything about this place, and neither do I. But I've got a pretty badass fleet, and if the elves aren't monolith, well…" Donovan gave him a small smile. "Divide and conquer, and all that,"
Mark lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just last night you were acting remorseful, what happened to that,"
"Fuck Mark, I almost
died last night. So did you and Reqart. Are you really trying to go pacifist route on me?"
"I think I'm just tired of fighting," Mark said. "And I don't want to slaughter my wife's people,"
Donovan stared at him, feeling something tug in his chest. Finally he sighed. "Alright," Donovan raised a palm. "Alright, fine. I know I've been an asshole, not without reason mind you, but even I get tired of myself when I get too carried away," He voice grew subdued. "And, well, I'm still a monster. I'd like to change that at least a little before I die,"
Mark let go of his nose and raised his head. "So you won't destroy these lands?"
"We're approaching a city," Donovan said, gesturing beyond the columns. "When we reach it, I'll send out an envoy. Hell, I'll go with, and you can come too. We'll see
exactly how willing these elf fuckers are to negotiate,"
Mark slowly nodded. "It's a good start," His stomach rumbled, prompting him to put a hand to it.
"Go tell the servants to get you and Reqart some food," Donovan said. "I'll have you summoned when we reach the city," Mark stood, snapping his fingers. The stone stool melted back into the platform, forming a seamless surface. Donovan coughed. "Show off," Mark gave him a tired smile, then turned and descended the stairs. Donovan settled back into his throne, watching the hills move beyond the columns.
Hours passed. Warships fanned out on either side of the castle, keeping a leisurely pace. Donovan slowly drifted back to sleep in his throne, waking with a start as horns blew. He sat up, blinking. "What's going on!"
Donovan stood and walked to the top of the stairs. He squinted beyond the columns, quickly spotting a dark shape as tall as a mountain. Dark clouds covered the sky, casting the lands in gray and shadow. As the shape grew closer, it revealed itself to be a massive city.
It was indeed like Minis Tirith. The bottom was wide, and encircled with a wall. The next level was smaller, and also protected by a wall. The layers rose up like a cake, ending with a gaint tree much like a weeping willow. Its branches and leaves flowed downward, forming a cover over the top levels of the city. Donovan glanced around, spotting Tokaroaka hurrying across the chamber. He was flanked by Lyra, Greis, and Fangson. "Get me a viewing spell!" Donovan shouted.
Sorcerers hurried to obey. A glassy oval appeared in the air before his throne, materializing into an image. It showed a close-up view of the city. Donovan studied its features. The walls were high and marked with towers on each level. At the top of the giant tree, a fortress unlike anything he had seen rested among the branches. It was curved, looping into itself, with towers that traveled out horizontally, then bent to rise vertically. Donovan could also make out the base of the city. It was a creature, barely rising above a forest of giant trees. The creature resembled a turtle, but with the legs and claws of a crustacean.
His servants reached the base of the stairs, Lyra breaking away to climb them. The other masters looked at her in anger, but she ignored them. "Get us within firing range," Donovan shouted. "Then stop, we're sending out an envoy," Mark appeared in the throne room, followed by Reqart, Babi and Princess Esymia. They all hastened to stare up at the viewing spell. "Princess Esymia," Donovan called, pointing at the image. "Do you recognize that city?"
Her expression showed that she did. "It is Theemoth," She said, her voice echoing around the columns. "Ruled by the line of Ulum,"
"And?" Donovan said, gesturing. "Are they hostile?"
"I do not know, they were ruled by my brother Calstar, as were the other lines," She fixed him with a piercing stare. "But you killed him, so it is any wonder who they serve now,"
Donovan snorted, rolling his eyes. "If you were helping Cortez he would be dead by now,"
Lyra reached the top of the stairs, rushing to him with a smile. "You seem your old self, my king,"
"Yeah, for now," Donovan said, gazing up at the view-spell. He glanced back down at Esymia. "How do I let them know I want to talk?"
The elf woman continued to stare into his eyes with the piercing gaze. "Allow me," She said, turning. She walked across the floor, her footsteps echoing. The masters and commanders parted, watching her. When Esymia reached the opening in the columns, she held out her hands. Color spilled forth from her fingers, shooting into the air like fireworks. They formed a symbol, one so bright Donovan and those in the throne room were forced to shield their eyes.
When Donovan lowered his arms, he saw colors rising up from the city. They too formed a symbol, just as bright as Princess Esymia's. She turned, looking up the throne at him. "They will receive your envoy,"
"Perfect," Donovan said, nodding. "Tokaroaka! Get me some champions! Princess Ninja too, if you can find her," He started down the steps, Lyra hurrying after him. When he reached the bottom, he glanced at Mark as he passed. "You coming?"
Mark nodded, then knelt down by Reqart. "Stay here, where it's safe,"
"I want to go with you," Reqart said, furrowing his brow. "I want to meet mother,"
"She may not be here," Mark said, patting his shoulder. "You should prepare yourself for that,"
Reqart seemed like he wanted to protest, but slowly deflated. "okay," He said, his voice soft. "But if you see her, tell her I'm up here,"
Mark smiled warmly. "I will," He stood and glanced at Babi, who stood next to the boy. "Can I ask you to keep him safe here?"
"You can," Babi said, kneeling down next to the boy and placing an arm around his shoulder. "We'll keep each other company,"
Mark turned to go, but Reqart broke away from Babi and hugged him. "Be careful father,"
Mark patted his head. "I will Reqart, this won't take long,"
Donovan waited for Mark to catch up. A large, slender figure appeared, wrapped in bandages. It was the champion Gitch, a strange creature with immense power. It was joined by King Orga, an armored Orga with a massive butcher sword. Princess Ninja climbed up into the throne room from the outside, passing between the columns. Tokaroaka approached Donovan, holding the wrapped head of the Shade Master. The young man accepted it, nodding in thanks, then passed it off to Gitch. The elongated creature took it like a prized treat, clutching it close.
A single warship rose up in front of the opening in the columns. Its side wheeled open, and a boarding plank extended. As Donovan and Mark waited, Princess Esymia joined them. Neither man said anything to her, and she did not say anything to them. When the boarding plank reached the edge of the throne room, the trio started across it, the champions following.
The interior of the warship was hot, and noisy. Donovan and the others were escorted by crewmembers to the front, where an Uhnut captain saluted. The short gnome-like creature stood next to a massive panel of wooden knobs and levers, too complex for Donovan to understand. Instead, the young man nodded. "Take us close, drop us of off by the gate and wait,"
The warship broke away from the castle. It turned in the air and traveled towards the city. The giant turtle-crab bearing it slowed, coming to a stop among the trees. The canopies around it swayed, the sky above growing darker.
When it neared the city, the warship slowed, descending through the air. Donovan could make out ships taking off from the different levels. They looked like Di Vinci's helicopter, but with more balloons, as well as crystals fanned out on either side in a neat array. "Fuck," Donovan said, his voice low. "That better not be more laser bullshit,"
"Sure looks like it," Mark said, staring intently. Donovan glanced at Princess Esymia, who did not react. Instead, she watched the city, her expression guarded.
The warship lowered near the shell of the giant turtle-crab, coming to a stop in front of a towering gate. It was hard to call it a gate, as it was a massive, bronze-colored circle, big enough for several warships to travel through. A person on foot certainly couldn't reach high enough to enter.
When the warship touched down on the shell, Donovan and the others made their way through to the gangplank. Crewmen lowered it for them, and the envoy walked down to the shell. They approached the gate.
Instead of opening, a circular stone platform appeared from behind the wall. It traveled up and over, then down, revealing several figures atop it. Donovan signaled for everyone to stop and wait.
The stone platform hovered inches above the monstrous shell. Robed figures stepped off it, some holding flags with strange symbols. As they neared, Donovan saw they were like elves, but with blue skin and halos. The halos were bright white, hovering over their heads and not quite connecting. Where there was a gap in the halo, a small blue fire burned.
The figures stopped before Donovan's envoy, a single robed figure stepping forward. It was a male elf, his eyes studying each member of the group. When he reached Princess Esymia, he folded his hands together. "Princess Esymia, of the line of Sarius," The blue elf said, nodding his head in a sign of respect. His voice was quiet, and reserved. "I did not think to find you among the defilers,"
The elf princess raised her chin. "I am a prisoner, it would seem, Gargara of the line of Ulum,"
"I see," The blue elf said, turning to the others. "And which of you speaks for the defilers?"
"Yeah that would be me," Donovan said, gesturing vaguely. "I'm their king or whatever. We're looking for an elf named Gwelenain, do you have her?"
The blue elf named Gargara tilted his head slightly, studying Donovan. The young man didn't like the look. "We do not," He said, his voice still soft.
Donovan waited for more, but Gargara was silent, simply staring at him. "Okay," Donovan said, slowly. "Do you know where we might find her?"
"I'm afraid searching for her is not a path that is open to you," Gargara said, glancing to the side, as if the conversation was trivial.
"And why's that? Are you going to stop us?"
Gargara kept his head turned, but his eyes found Donovan again. "That is what Liloth has commanded,"
"Liloth?" Princess Esymia said, her eyes wide. "The Great Spirit who would have my sister? Gargara, what are you saying! You cannot possibly serve him!"
The blue elf turned his head, staring into the princess's eyes. "You have been gone a long time, second daughter of the line of Sarius. Your brother is dead, his contract with the spirit yet unfulfilled. As such, Liloth now holds the title of Arch-Guardian Supreme, and commands the Guardian lines,"
"He is not a guardian!" Esymia exclaimed, her voice strained with emotion. "How can this be!"
"Things are changing," Gargara said, his voice growing soft. "That is all I will say. Now come, leave the defilers and join us. We will protect you,"
"Like you protected my sister??" Esymia said, her voice filled with aguish, as if the blue elf had betrayed her.
"Gitch," Donovan said. The champion extended an arm, passing the wrapped bundle. Donovan took it and tossed it between the two groups. In unraveled, the Shade Master head rolling from it. Gargara and the other elves stared down at it. Donovan pointed at the head. "That is the fate of all who oppose me. You will let us pass, or I will grind your city to dust, and nail your kind to crosses for all to see. Oh, and take some heads, I think I'm going to start collecting them,"
Gargara looked up, staring into Donovan's eyes. "It is war then, defiler. You are not the first to enter Eo, not even the strongest. The last invader was forced to watch as we flayed his army from dawn until dusk, putting hot coals to their skinned bodies. Then we took his eyes and did the same to him,"
Donovan scowled. "Looks like we've both got fucked-up plans for the loser. Better hope it's not you," Gargara gave him a small smile. It was not kind.
Mark stepped forward. "Wait, surely this is not the only way," He turned to the blue elf. "Do you really wish for there to be war? For untold death and destruction?"
Gargara turned without a word, heading back for the floating platform. The other elves stared at Donovan's envoy, then followed. Donovan spat to the side, then headed for his own warship. "Come on Mark. If they want a fight, we'll give them a fucking fight,"
With that, he stormed up the gangplank of his waiting warship. Mark stared up at the city, lines of worry creasing his face. Exhaling slowly, he shook his head, then turned and followed.
