“Morgana continues to try and lure me into the trap of working for her, I understand in theory how the magical properties within the ironite can be unlocked. Through using a temperature so high that I only know of one forge capable in Eltera. She tries to seduce me with her ways, and I swear whenever the woman is close in my proximity that I endure a sharp pain in my mind accompanied by a high pitched noise. It is at times unbearable and I can’t help but feel she has some part to do with it. She wields dark magic and I do not trust her goal, she seeks to serve herself and not the King, not the people of Eltera.”
Diary entry of Jonah Viergen, 255KR
My mind whirls like a storm. It was Orjan. It was he who plucked me from my burning home. It is he who I should thank for my life. How can it be that the cursed man I sent to infiltrate the Wyverns, who somehow has a role to play in my death, was my rescuer as a child? Why would the gods do this? Why would they intwine our lives in such a manner? Both the visions of my future and my past are central to him. He is the key, but I do not know what he is the key to.
I roar out loudly in frustration as I enter the chaotic streets of Eltera. The townsfolk run around readying themselves for a fight, setting up barriers in the streets. Through the chaos I see Wistler and some of his men head into the guard tower just beyond the eastern gate. The ordinary citizens of Eltera continue taking up arms and setting up a ramshackle formation beyond the markets. Men and woman run back and forth carrying the swords, pikes, and shields that I have supplied from the armoury.
Storm clouds have begun to form darkened swathes above us, as if the gods are testing us. Without hesitation I make my way to the guard tower, my head pounding, my body aching like never before. Wistler’s demise is the only thing keeping me going at this point.
A young girl knocks past me, her arms filled with bottles of spirits which I suspect will be paired with fire to create explosives. As I reach the base of the tower, I look upwards and see the narrow, stone staircase. My heart already races and my legs tremble from my adrenaline. There is so much that has happened in the last day, and my body grows weary. I will take great pleasure in stealing Wistler’s life energy and watching him wither away.
I climb the steps at speed, imagining the different ways in which I can snuff out his life, the insolent pig.
When I reach the top, my foot catches the lip of the step and I stumble through the doorway. Not quite the intimidating entrance I was looking for.
Wistler awaits me, surrounded by six Wyverns. Two of them have taken up position and are pulling the chained mechanism to open the gate.
Wistler does not seem intimidated or surprised by my presence. In fact, his posture could not be more different from the bumbling oaf I have come to know since I landed in this kingdom. Before me stands a confident man, calm and in control. Seeing Wistler’s face ignites a fierce rage within me, and it is all I can muster to stop my magic consuming me in my entirety.
“Wistler!” I roar. “Why? Why go through all this? You tried to have me assassinated!”
Wistler simply smiles, infuriating me further. He leans towards the embrasure in the wall, examining the happenings below. Then he brings his attention back to me.
“You have become quite the inconvenience, Lady Morgana, since your unplanned, unannounced arrival,” he says through clenched teeth. Perhaps the frustration of the current situation is shared between us. “I had built something good. There was restlessness amongst the streets before the chaos of the witch trials. The taxations brought about by the king were taking effect, people were becoming harder to rule. I used the situation to build something good, something that made Eltera self-sufficient as a kingdom. More importantly, I kept the coin coming in.”
“And this coin has not been shared with the crown. I imagine there is quite a large amount that could be used to help keep arms for King Athos and his armies,” I answer. I have needed access to the forge for near two years now. This has caused a significant delay in my personal plans, not to mention the plans of the king.
“It is not my war that Athos continues to wage. He flexes his muscles in order to gain lands that Levanthria does not need, for resources that we do not need. He shows his power as a badge of honour, to make more people kneel, more people bow to him.” Wistler laughs to himself. “Perhaps we are not too dissimilar after all.”
“And the Barbaraqs? Why would you bring them to our shores?” Spit leaves my mouth as I curse the man in front of me. His Wyvern foot soldier stands primed, ready to attack me at any moment.
“How else am I going to take Askela? With the Barbaraqs by my side, people will have no option but to join the Wyverns. By the time the king returns – if he returns – he will be too late. Askela will have already fallen, and I will be declared ruler of these lands.”
That is what all this is about. A power play for the crown by one of the lords of the lands. This is what happens when a king remains absent from his lands for so long. It is what I have warned Athos about persistently, to no avail. The king is as much to blame for this situation as Wistler. He has allowed Levanthria to become weakened to an attack, to allow the Barbaraqs to become confident enough to step foot on these lands once again.
Wistler looks out the window before a wry smile consumes his face, revealing his weasel-like features. “It looks like our friends are here.” Two of the Wyverns continue pulling on the mechanism and drawing up the gates.
“There is only one problem, Wistler,” I tell him. “I have already killed their chieftain. Who is it you expect to still have an agreement with?” Quietly, behind my back, I begin charging my hands with energy.
“Raegor has one daughter. It is her that will take his place, unless she is challenged by another in her ranks. From what I have heard, her savagery far exceeds others. She is renowned for her rage and her fury. If anything, you have poked the ant’s nest in killing her father. I have no doubts in my mind that she will want your head on a pike.” Wistler smiles. “I would go as far as saying that Yaelor was often kept in line by her father. She prefers a more . . . direct approach.”
“At least I will get to have my fun with you first. You will pay for your insolence.” With that, I fire a blast of magic towards the Wyverns standing before us. It connects with a woman’s face, and blood sprays across the room as she drops to the ground where she violently convulses. Five more to go. I want to leave Wistler for last so I can savour ending his life.
Another Wyvern rushes forward and takes a wild swipe at me, but they are clearly inexperienced; they would have stood a better chance if they attacked me in numbers. Although I can negate the effects of magic use through channelling others, it still takes its toll on me. After all, magic is not an endless stream I can dip into. It comes at a price. Taking this into account, I remove a dagger from my waist and ram it into my attacker’s stomach. The man’s skin tears as my dagger buries deep within his gut, my hand warming as his blood flows over my clenched fist. I stare into his widened eyes and take note of their hazel colour before twisting my blade violently. Bones and sinew crack as I twist, and I pull the blade out before switching my gaze to the remaining Wyverns. I will show them no mercy for turning their back on their kingdom, on Levanthria.
I grow tired, but I know I must dig deep. Four of Wistler’s bodyguards remain. If I can get through the remainder of this fight using minimal magic, I can reserve my energy for the battle yet to come.