There were two mage-towers in Al-Sarilica, one placed north, and another south. The two towers were the only remaining pieces out of an initial set of twelve. At least that was what the priests spoke of when they venerated the antiquity of the structures, as they predated everything else in the city by at least a thousand years. Supposedly, they were the safest spots in the whole city, for their purpose was to guarantee that the city mages could cast their most powerful spells unhindered by enemy attacks.
All Groba knew was that he did not feel safe at all.
“There is no need for you to be here, elder.”
Groba was a simple draxani with an unfortunately slightly dangerous job. Normal guards would find themselves in constant risk from normal things, bandits, thieves, or angry ex-soldiers. Guards and soldiers in Al-Sarilica typically found greater dangers from wild beasts and monsters. None of these were the real threats today.
“That is for me to determine.”
What he was sure would be the end of him was that he stood all too close to the two most powerful people in Al-Sarilica as a heated argument broke out.
On one corner of the tower room was Naru al-Ashtar, patriarch of the al-Ashtar household. He was a najasil, a creature that could’ve been described as part draxani and part snake. His body was devoid of legs, having a long beautifully blue-scaled serpentine tail, four times in length than Groba was tall. His face was close but not quite that of a draxani, reptilian snout albeit slightly rounder and smoother, a handsome man by any measure. The Patriarch of the al-Ashtar household held himself with the regal grace that was befitting his station, wearing golden clothes woven by magics Groba could scarcely comprehend.
And opposite the patriarch was the elder of that same household. Where Naru wore gold, Khalid al-Ashtar was as if his very scales were made of the precious metal. The only hint of the household’s colors were in the man’s eyes, deep blue, calculating, and chillier than a night in the desert under an open sky. Unlike Naru, he wore leather and bronze armor, protection that the patriarch had apparently deigned unnecessary.
“The monster can be dealt with by Emir Troro’s guards. This is not an expense our household needs to take.” Naru hissed angrily, drawing himself taller.
It was a display Khalid cared not to imitate, even when he was twice the length of the far younger najasil. The coldness of the glare was all he needed to give, a silent threat that sent shivers down Groba’s spine even when he was practically standing behind the elder.
The young draxani guard pressed himself against the wall. He had a spear he could wield, but to even hint that he might do so would likely get him skewered by the other terrified guards within the room.
“Aether can be replenished, lives cannot.” Elder Khalid spoke the words that made everyone else flinch.
Groba had heard the stories, but more than that, he knew exactly how dangerous those words were. A spell could cost in aether far more than it would to buy a good slave, and the guards there knew all too well that the elder carried upon his person more aether than what all their lives were worth combined.
The patriarch, as was expected, did not take those words kindly. Naru coiled, forked tongue flickering out. “Are you defying my command, elder?” He hissed, and for a moment he eyed the guards in the room as if ready to prove a point.
“Forgive me, I’d not realized it was an order, patriarch.” Khalid replied with a venomous ice in his voice. The two powerful men stared at one another, despite the heat in their eyes and the blazing sun outside, the room felt a bit colder than a moment prior.
“Good.” Patriarch Naru broke the silence first. “With that being cleared out, we may leave. There is no sense in staying here.”
Khalid did not move, all four of his arms crossed. “My duty is to guarantee the household’s safety.” His blue gaze flickered to the balcony. “Even if the Emir’s men prove infallible in dealing with the approaching monsters, which I doubt will be the case, then being here can still prove a teaching experience.”
“War is a game for brutes and men with more honor than sense or brains.” Naru snorted. “If we used your spellknots to grow crops, we could-”
“You will find more success ordering a statue to bear fruit.” If the room was cold before, it now turned frigid as elder Khalid’s arms uncrossed, the man looming taller as he bent himself to look down at Naru. “I have important matters to oversee here, patriarch, stay or leave, I will not move from here until the threat has been dealt with.”
The patriarch coiled tighter, embarrassment and humiliation turning into tension upon his snake-like half. The man turned towards the door, one foolish guard moved to open the door, and found himself struck by the massive tail, flung across the room screaming and smashing against the far wall. The draxani had crumpled to the floor like a puppet without strings.
Groba knew the man to be lucky, had the patriarch’s swing been only slightly further to the side, the guard would’ve been sent plummeting out the window and to a swift death. The enchantments on the tower were meant to catch anyone falling off, but the patriarch had them deactivated to save up on maintenance.
With the al-Ashtar patriarch gone, an uncomfortable silence stretched out. Groba exchanged glances with his fellows, trying to determine who among them would approach their fallen brethren to check upon their condition.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Take him to a healer.” Elder Khalid’s words rang out as he stood on the balcony, staring out to the desert beyond the city walls.
Every guard made to move, but it became clear only the one closest to the balcony would be fortunate enough to leave. Groba, being furthest from the balcony, remained standing on the spot, holding his spear and shield, and praying that the patriarch would not return.
Elder Khalid looked past the veranda of the balcony, appearing to notice something within the movement below. He made sounds of amusement, but as far as Groba was concerned, the elder might as well have been singing a tune.
Groba did not know what was going outside the city walls, nor could he hear anything from outside. Only if he approached the balcony would he be able to see what events were transpiring beyond the walls of this room, but he felt no curiosity to check. Not when the elder was present, and not when there was a risk he might be made to join the people below.
“Stand back.” The elder declared, slithering towards the balcony.
And at that moment, everyone else in the room exchanged glances. They knew they were now faced with a very precarious dilemma. They could either obey the command to the letter and watch as the mage disobeyed the al-Ashtar patriarch… or they could remind the elder of the command he’d been given.
Though both options would invariably lead to regret, one of them would potentially make it harder for them to be singled out. If someone spoke up, they would be a target. If no one spoke out, then the only target would be whoever got questioned.
Thus, the guards moved away from the balcony and towards the door, half-ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.
All five of them watched transfixed as the elder slithered into the sunlight, glittering like a living golden statue, reaching into a pouch to bring out four balls of aether, each the size of his fist. Immediately, all four hands began to glow brightly, an intense blue and red hue not unlike that of ice and fire. The mage’s whole body began to move, dancing to an invisible music, his four appendages tracing lines of light upon the very air, creating a construct of magic large enough to engulf the man within.
At first, it was a sight to behold, beautifully complex as the sphere of lines danced and spun and pulsed around the mage at the same rhythm he maintained. Yet as the minutes ticked on, turning into a full hour’s worth of weaving, the ball of light had become a second sun in its own right. Groba could not look upon it with his naked eyes, forced to block the blinding light and turn away alongside the others, feeling heat and power washing and straining against the very air around them.
And with a roar, the sound of four hands clapping together released the spell, leaving spots in their eyes and an eerie chill in the air.
Khalid al-Ashtar stood, holding the railing of the balcony and staring intensely out, his back turned to the guards as his whole body sagged from the extreme exertion. “It’s not enough.” The man hissed in anger. He snarled, anger flaring out as he hammered the railing with clenched fists.
Despite his better judgment, Groba stepped towards the balcony, to dare peek outside.
What he saw would forever sear itself into his memory.
From the mage tower, the city was barely visible at the corners of his vision, and in front of him spread the walls of Al-Sarilica. Walls that dwarfed most buildings normally, yet from up above appeared no more than small ledges. Beyond the wall was a sea of golden brown sand, littered with dozens of black scorpion-like creatures, each one seemingly small enough that Groba might crush them with his thumb, but that he knew each of them was larger than his family’s house. Their chitin-covered bodies glimmered like obsidian under the blazing sun, wickedly spiked pincers sharp enough to rend any mortal in twain, mouths frothing with green ooze that made the sand sizzle with acrid plumes of black smoke in their wake.
Standing between the monsters and the city were three giant statues of silver metal, each shaped like a draxani’s clay toy soldier, simple in design, yet massive enough they towered, twice the height of the walls.
Groba knew the statues had not been there the day prior, nay, they hadn’t been there a mere hour ago. And as he watched, the trio took a simultaneous step forward, each of them vibrating with such power that the air distorted around them. A power that the monsters noticed right away, scattering about, pointing their stingers at the trio of metal golems.
Beams of green sickly light shot out from the tails, attempting to strike at the metal warriors from afar, but the beams merely bounced off. The three titans did not pursue, instead raising their many-fingered hands over their heads. The light around them distorted and focused, turning into beams of their own. Three beams of golden light shot out, striking at the furthest monsters and causing them to spontaneously explode. Green ooze raining all around the sand, burning it away.
The beams seared through the sand, turning it into red-hot glowing glass, tracing lines as they sought the scattered monsters, destroying them three at a time. With a shift in the wind, a foul smell reached the mage-tower, Groba had a full-bodied grimace and an instinct to gag. Yet he could not look away as the monsters kept being annihilated, with little to no avenues to escape.
Even those that had tried to bury themselves underneath the sand were ruthlessly focused upon, the beams burnt and melted away their surroundings until the creature was unearthed, boiled alive.
“Not enough.” The elder muttered once more, glaring not at what remained of the beasts but at his golems, all three of his creations taking a singular step forward and proceeding to immediately crumble.
To Groba, it appeared as if the creatures had deigned their task done, and opted to unmake themselves. Yet this fact clearly angered elder Khalid further. As if annihilating the horde of monsters had been a given, and it’d been the golems themselves that’d been lacking.
Elder Khalid growled. “Something’s missing.” Scowling deeply as he turned towards the door, leaving without uttering another word or command.
With the door closing shut, everyone let out a sigh of relief.
Not one of the guards present noticed the pale human in the corner, hidden behind expertly crafted layers of illusion, ones weaved by Maridah to make him appear as if a column. An illusion that would shatter the moment he left the little peek-space.
Sometimes coming early and prepared was quite useful.
Liam waited for the guards to file out before leaving the tower himself. Two more days and he’d get to meet Khalid in person. With the patriarch hitting the road with high hopes of big profits with the Yulvenir patriarch in the capital, the al-Ashtar elder would be far less constrained.
And, hopefully, more open for some very important first impressions.