Unfortunately, a lack of time didn’t mean he could ignore the request that Morteth had asked of him, or that he could just neglect the nobles of Ashpeak. The moment he walked out of the meeting with Morteth and Vumorth, there was an entire line of messengers waiting for him with invitations to visit the various Houses of Ashpeak.
While he would have loved to send the messengers away and say that he had no time to visit them. If he did that, however, it would guarantee that he would make enemies out of half the nobles in the city, which would only make his plans that much harder to accomplish when they opposed him.
So instead of doing something useful like studying mantras or even just returning to Redspire, Matt was forced to travel throughout the city, having brief, seemingly meaningless conversations with almost two dozen nobles who only wanted a ‘moment of his time’ in order to establish their position in the pecking order already present among the High Imps.
Only two of them really stuck out at all. The first was House Ndai, the nobility that currently led the Clan. They were the House of Lord Torth, Morteth, Melren, and Vumorth, some of whom were his chief supporters. Given their importance, Matt went to their mansion first, where the local House leader received them with genuine enthusiasm. Lord Kuporth was a mostly unmemorable person, except for the fact that the visit to his mansion included an actual feast for both him and the members of his lifeguard. Despite his suspicions about Lord Torth’s ambitions, the Ndai kinsmen seemed intensely enthusiastic about their welcome for him.
The second noble House was memorable for a different reason. House Kerall was reportedly a shadow of its former self. When he’d killed Tek, he’d apparently given tacit permission for the other High Imp Houses to settle grudges of their own. Either that, or only Tek’s personal power and influence had held that retribution off, and his fall had left the House unexpectedly vulnerable. Whatever the reason, nearly half of the House’s scions had either been killed in ‘mysterious’ circumstances, or found guilty of various crimes and jailed or fined as a result.
Needless to say, Matt was tense with expectations as he and his lifeguard approached the old mansion. It was in as grand a place as the center of House Ndai, but it was clear the past few weeks had not gone well for the inhabitants. In comparison to the grounds of House Ndai, the hedges and trees had not been well cared for. He thought he saw one of their servants working to clean words that had been scrawled across one of their walls; another was trying to repair a window that had been broken on the ground floor.
Those servants he could see all seemed harried, exhausted, or both. When they saw him arrive with his lifeguard, many of them dropped what they were doing and tried to scurry out of sight. It was like they expected him to order the final purge of the House, and didn’t want to be caught in the butchery. Not that Matt could blame them; from what he knew, House Kerall was among the High Imp nobles who had not freed the serfs under their control, and what real loyalty did a slave owe their supposed masters?
A butler met them at the front doors of the mansion and quietly guided them through the building. The inside of the mansion showed the same level of neglect; it seemed far too empty for such a grand place. Matt walked past enormous paintings of Kerall ancestors, captured in the act of some act of heroism or conquest, while others were immortalized by busts or statues set into alcoves. At least one of those statues wore a crown, so apparently they’d reached the throne at some point or another.
The servant stopped beside a set of double doors where a pair of Kerall armsmen waited. For a moment, the Imps faced off against his lifeguard. It was an impressive show, since they were outnumbered ten to one, but in the end the guards stood aside and let Matt’s protectors push their way through the doors and precede him into the room.
There was only a single noble waiting for him, in stark contrast to the other visits Matt had gone to earlier in the day. The Imp rose from his seat at the head of a long, empty table, and bowed as Matt entered, his motions smooth and well-practiced. “Sire, I welcome you to the home of House Kerall.”
Matt nodded to him and gestured for the Imp to rise. “I thank you for the invitation, Lord Penk. I confess I didn’t expect to see you among those who wanted to see me.”
Penk nodded easily. He turned and gestured for Matt to take a seat at the long table. Matt paused for a moment, hating the symbolism of facing this Imp across the wide expanse of the entire table. At the same time, he couldn’t exactly take a close seat, not without putting himself into a subordinate place compared to Penk at the head.
So, gritting his teeth, he settled in at the other head of the table and watched as Penk sat at the opposite side. The lifeguard settled in around the room, taking up positions near the entrance, the servants’ doors, and the windows. Penk watched them, idly toying with a wineglass, and when he spoke, it was with an elaborate calm which Matt suspected was at least partially pretense. “Was your journey pleasant, sire?”
Matt raised an eyebrow. “No. It was pretty miserable, actually.” Then he shrugged. “Still, some things are worth the pain.”
Penk‘s golden eyes glittered for a moment. “A sentiment I share, sire. Despite the inconvenience, I appreciate you taking the time to visit our fair city. It really is a testament to the accomplishments of our ancestors.”
A servant entered the room, carrying a tray with a pitcher of something and a glass. They paused in surprise and fear when they saw one of the lifeguard waiting so close to them. The Orc looked the Imp over and then gestured for them to continue forward. With a hurried step, they approached the spot where Matt was sitting and set out the glass, filling it from the pitcher. They then retreated from the room.
Matt picked up the glass and examined it. He could almost feel Penk’s attention sharpen as he swirled the liquid inside. It was a kind of test, of course; the question was whether it would be a lethal one. Poison was a very traditional way of removing inconvenient rulers, and Penk had to be capable of utilizing it. Tek certainly wouldn’t have hesitated, if he had been given the chance in Redspire.
Would it be in the drink? That would make it easy to catch, simply by testing the stuff still in the pitcher. Then again, the poison could just as easily have been slathered along the inside of the glass itself; it would be much harder to detect that way and give Penk an extra layer of deniability. Either way, taking a drink would be—extremely unwise.
He looked past the glass, examining the High Imp sitting across from him. Penk had abandoned any pretense of disinterest now, and was watching Matt with obvious curiosity. Would a poisoner be that blatant about their expectations? Or was it simply the new House leader’s first attempt at assassination?
Matt swirled the glass once more and then smiled. “What is your opinion of the Kingdom, Lord Penk? Do you think we are preparing ourselves well for the spring?”
The question appeared to catch the Imp off guard at first, but he simply sat back. “So far, we do well, sire. The rebels to the north are defeated, as are the invaders from the east. I hear you are likewise planning on dealing with the traitors to the south, and I have every hope that you will be victorious against the Alliance of Light as well.”
Though his response was delivered in an even, neutral tone, there was that glint in Penk’s eyes that hinted at some deeper feeling. Matt decided to probe further. “Not everyone in the Kingdom shares your view, I’m afraid. There are those who feel that we would do better with… different leadership, shall we say.”
Penk’s chin lifted. “Yes. My uncle believed that, and received his just reward, sire.”
Matt tilted his head to the side. He quietly set down the glass on the table. “Sometimes such beliefs run in families. After all, you learn from those you are closest to, do you not?”
The High Imp paused. He took a moment to sip from his own glass. “My father certainly shared my uncle’s view of things. They were both devoted to the honor and achievements of our ancestors. Did you know it was our House that originally helped build Redspire? We ruled there once, before the Red Moon Orcs came and took the throne from us.”
“I did not.” It had to have been buried in the history of the place, but it fit well enough from what he knew. The Fireblooms had been dominant in some form or another for hundreds of years.
“It’s true. Our historians have been agonizingly dedicated to maintaining our knowledge of those times.” Penk sighed and sunk back into his seat, his eyes turning to the windows. “My father wished—as my uncle did—for a return to those days. I hope you did not take his plot personally. He had been planning to overthrow the Red Sorceress before you disposed of her.”
Matt gave him a wry grin. “I see.”
Penk shrugged and straightened up in his seat. “So yes, you could say that such ideas were popular in our House, even after they led to my uncle’s unfortunate end.” Then he sighed again. “My father might have been led to such foolishness if he hadn’t suffered that terrible hunting accident.”
The way Penk had said it piqued Matt’s interest. He frowned. “A hunting accident? I hadn’t heard.”
“I’m sure your majesty has been rather busy lately.” Penk took another sip. “My House has been plagued by such accidents, actually. My older brother died in a duel just a week ago. A slip of the hand when his opponent was casting a spell.”
Matt’s frown deepened. Penk didn’t sound as sad as he should. He seemed more—sardonic somehow, or even sarcastic. “How unfortunate.”
“Yes, quite. Almost as bad as those bandits who killed my other uncle, or those cutpurses who stole my aunt’s life.” Penk set his glass aside and laced his fingers together. “They were all quite dedicated to the cause of our House. Of restoring old glories, no matter the cost. Many of them were very unhappy with the death of my dear uncle.”
Matt felt a chill at the words, and a new possibility occurred to him. He’d assumed that the enemies of House Kerall had been taking revenge on the House after Tek’s execution, but if it had been something else… “Their unhappiness could have led them to make similar mistakes as he had.”
Penk grimaced, as if he’d tasted something unpleasant. “A very likely possibility, actually. Some of them were already trying to put such plans into motion when their fortunes turned for the worse.” He paused and looked directly into Matt’s eyes, his expression serious. “Though some would say their poor fortune was good luck for the rest of the House. After all, if we became known for disloyalty, even more than we already are, it would make for a poor shield against future accusations of treachery. I doubt even our old and illustrious House would survive much longer after that.”
Just weeks ago, Matt had been a security guard for empty shipping containers. Now he was fairly certain he was sitting across from a nobleman who had murdered members of his own family to keep them from betraying Matt’s reign. What kind of life was this? Who would want this kind of society to continue?
Still, he forced himself to reach out and take hold of the glass again. “It would take a particularly clear view of the future to see those accidents as good fortune. Even if it was the best thing for your House.”
Penk nodded slowly. “It would. Even then, it would be an unpleasant thing to dwell on.” The Imp took up his own glass as well, his eyes now challenging Matt across the table. “But, as you said, some things are worth the pain, are they not?”
They watched one another for a moment longer. Then Matt inclined his head and drank. He tilted his head back and made sure to drain every last drop.
When he set the glass back on the table, he recognized both respect and relief in Penk’s eyes. The High Imp had drained his own glass, and set it aside with a hand that barely trembled. Matt felt the taste of the drink linger on his tongue, and winced. “An interesting drink, Lord Penk.”
“New tastes are often hard to swallow, sire.” Penk smiled, and Matt grinned in recognition of the intentional symbolism. Whoever else this murderer was, he had a bit of style to him, at least. Then Penk’s expression grew more serious. “I… do not know that I can support every new thing that I come across. The lessons of the past speak strongly to me, even if I do not allow them to blind me to reality. Yet I wish you to understand that there will be no more… errors in judgment from House Kerall. Not while I live.”
It was a fair statement, and one that Matt found he could respect. He couldn’t even really judge the nobleman for what he’d done; after all, it wasn’t as if Matt’s own hands were clean, either. So he nodded and smiled again. “Then I wish you a long and prosperous life, Lord Penk. For the good of our Kingdom.”
The visits to the nobility took most of the rest of the day, and a good portion of the next as well. By the time he had made the rounds of the noble mansions, Matt was already feeling a bit worn, but then Morteth invited him to supervise a series of duels. Already regretting the promise he’d made, Matt forced himself to attend.
Surprisingly, he found himself almost immediately engrossed in the contests. Perhaps it was just the fact that the warriors involved had committed to nonlethal strikes, or maybe it was the ongoing frustration he was facing building his own first Source, but the display of martial action and combat magic was captivating.
The High Guard warriors were skilled, definitely. They wielded fire and swordstaff with the kind of fluidity that mocked his own clumsy attempts to smash away at things with his mace. Match after match filled the mystic ring with clashing weapons and billowing fire, before ending with one combatant’s weapon held against a throat, or another being knocked clear of the ring by a burst of fire.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
As he watched, he noticed his lifeguard was starting to look just as interested in the matches. The barriers that had been present between them started to come down a little as they watched the fights. Some of them appeared to even start quietly rooting for the various contestants, to the point where they were smiling and clapping each other on the shoulder when their favorites won and grumbling together when they lost.
Matt turned back to watch the contests with a bit more interest. Could this be something he could use on a larger scale? He didn’t want Roman gladiator contests, but… he had to admit they had worked, and for a lot longer than he needed. The Greeks had enjoyed the Olympics before that, and modern society also seemed to use sports as a way to diffuse competition into healthier substitutes. If he could design an alternative, one that wasn’t quite so close to bloodsports, then maybe…
He set the idea aside for a while and tried to analyze how they were using magic. He was within a few days of mastering a few Spell Chants of his own, so he’d need it for the future. Maybe it would make him a bit less of a drawback on the battlefield the next time he fought. Or maybe he’d just accidentally blow himself up and out of the fight, like one unfortunate Imp had just done. Time would tell.
The weather was clear when they set out for Redspire again. It was still chilly, to the point that it stung his cheeks, but at least no more snow had fallen since their visit.
Even better, the roads had been cleared somewhat by carts traveling along them, so they were making better time. Nelson, at the very least, seemed far more capable of forging ahead through the mud and snow of the road. It likely helped that they were descending from the highlands instead of climbing them; even with the occasional slippery spot on the descent, it was better than slipping backward or struggling up yet another switchback trail.
The first two days, they had already traveled most of the way back to Redspire. His lifeguard seemed to be in good humor as they moved, as if they were relieved and excited to be back in the capital. Maybe they felt it was safer there, though the only lifeguards who had died had been killed there. At the very least, Matt was eager to return and start putting his plans into motion. He needed to have Teblas out of the way before spring came, and he had less than six weeks to manage it.
As if the world had heard him and taken offense, the snow started early on the third day.
It wasn’t a gentle snowstorm, either. The dark clouds gathered overhead as if swept together by a malicious god. As they continued along the trail, the wind grew colder and more violent, driving bursts of snow from the drifts around them. Very soon, it was hard to see; the sun was hidden behind clouds so thick that it seemed like night had fallen early. Around him, the lifeguards muttered and drew their cloaks tight around themselves, trying to ward off the encroaching chill.
Matt almost felt a bit of relief when the snow started to fall. His feelings were short-lived, as the snowfall quickly became something close to a blizzard. Thick clumps of snowflakes fell from the sky, driven into a continuous torrent of snow that made it even harder to see. The road beneath Nelson’s hooves became mired with slurry, forcing the group to slow down even further.
They continued to try to struggle forward, forcing their way closer to Redspire. It seemed fruitless, however, to continue forward while the snow gathered on the road and started to weigh down the branches around them. Matt began to look for a half-decent place to camp; if they could rest for a time, perhaps the storm would pass, and they could make better time back to the city.
Then, just as he was about to ask for members of the lifeguard to scout for a place to stop, he saw one of the Goblins pause. He frowned at the woman, who was peering through the flurries of snow. Matt studied her for a moment and then spoke up. “What do you see?”
The other lifeguards looked back at him, but the Goblin didn’t even glance at him. “I thought I saw Wargs, sire. They looked like Shadow Hunters.”
Matt felt a chill that had nothing to do with the freezing wind or flying snow. The Shadow Hunters were the personal troops of the Goblin High Clan, the Blackleafs. Most of them were stationed under the command of Lady Einreth, who remained in the Goblin capital of Shadowfen. A small number of banners had come under his direct control and had helped him secure victory against the Noble Races during the battle of Folly’s End.
There were other Shadow Hunters, however. They had departed his control under the command of Lady Suluth, when she had been sent to try to maintain control of the Sortenmoors. When she had betrayed the Kingdom and murdered Lord Braden, her rival for power, she’d disappeared with the troops that remained to her, which included an unknown number of the Shadow Hunters that had survived up to that point.
Matt had not ordered his own Shadow Hunters to patrol, and he doubted that Captain Karve would have allowed them to leave the garrison during a storm like this one. There would have been no point to sending them out; there were no enemies left near the capitol, and it might cause casualties among troops that they would need later. Einreth would have even less of a reason to send her Hunters away; the Red Moon scion was hoping to keep the chaos in the Sortenmoors from spilling over into the Darkwoods, and to deter Teblas from invading north. She would need every soldier she could find to do so.
Which meant the only person who would have a reason to send Shadow Hunters along the road in a snowstorm was Lady Suluth. The same Lady Suluth who had sent some of her best assassins into the castle at Redspire in an attempt to kill him after Einreth had accused her of murdering Braden.
The same thoughts seemed to pass through the lifeguard as well, and they shifted in their saddles to get their weapons ready. Matt wondered how much good it would do. Shadow Hunters were light missile cavalry, which meant that if they were out in the storm, they were going to try to shoot down Matt and his lifeguard using shortbows. Their tendency to use magical illusions only made them an even worse threat, especially in such poor visibility conditions.
He felt his heartbeat speed up as he looked around. The only bright side might have been that the snow was reducing their visibility as well; if the Shadow Hunters couldn’t see them well, they’d have to get closer in order to shoot, which meant his lifeguard could have a better chance of countercharging them. Snow would also make it harder for the Shadow Hunters to fire arrows and fade away, as well, which was usually how they worked.
If the enemy managed to surround him and his guards, it would probably be over. The ones in front would shoot and then run, and while he chased after them, the ones behind would fill him full of arrows. Bunkering down and trying to outlast the volleys of arrow fire probably wasn’t a good option, either. No one knew exactly how many Shadow Hunters Suluth still had, and his twenty lifeguards weren’t going to be able to outlast an entire banner of cavalry archers. They weren’t likely able to run, either. Shadow Hunters rode lighter Wargs than most, which would mean they could run faster and catch him. It would be like a wolfpack hunting down a deer.
All of which left him only a handful of options, and none of them were very good. Matt grimaced. “All right. Halt. How many of you have illusion magic?” The Goblin and two others raised their hands. He nodded. “Good. On my mark, cast your best spells over there between those trees.”
He pointed at a nearby thicket that was barely visible through the snow. “I want two layers to it. The first one is going to show nothing.”
One of the Goblins raised a hand. “Sire, there’s already nothing there.”
“I know, soldier. Just listen.” He gestured to the other two Goblins. “You two focus on that illusion. You, with the questions, what’s your name?”
“Malwun, sire.”
“Malwun, I want you to cast a second illusion beneath theirs. That one will show us huddling under the cover of our shields. Try and make it seem like some of us are wounded, too. Do you understand?”
Slightly baffled, the three Goblins nodded. “Who’s the best here at moving silently? No magic, just stealth. Especially through snow.”
An Imp, an Orc, and another Goblin raised their hands. He pointed to each of them. “You guys are going to sneak in close while they are distracted. Try to make sure a path to the south is clear. Hit any sentries that are watching it. Keep things quiet, though. The longer they don’t know you are out there, the better. Best archers?” Two Orcs and two Imps. “I want you to pick out some spots in that thicket, over there on the left. When I give the signal, I want you to hit the ones furthest from us. Try to make sure they are real, and aim for any leaders you can see.”
Then he turned to the rest. “For the rest of us, we’re going to need to be ready to charge. Anyone who can use magic to cause bright flashes of light? We’ll need them as soon as the real fighting starts.”
Matt turned and pointed uphill, at a spot where the trees were thick with snow. “We’ll start up there. When you all see the lights, start hitting them. We need to kill as many of them as we can to drive them off. Then we try to make our way south, off the road and lose them in this snow.”
An Orc, a Greenriver warrior that had come from the Spears, raised his hand. “Sire, they’ll still be able to track us. They won’t give up the fight that easily, and they know where we need to go.”
“Which means we’ll know where they will move to try to block us, right?” Matt clapped the Orc on the shoulder and tried to project confidence. “They’ll be expecting us to run or to wait for them. We’re not going to do that. Trust me. We’re all getting home today.”
The members of the lifeguard exchanged looks that were hard to read beneath helmets and snow flurries, but they all nodded. They split up, with the two other groups breaking off from the main group as Matt led them up the hill. He suspected that the ones who had left the group were expecting him to just abandon them, but he had no plans to do so. His lifeguard was a unique resource; they’d proven remarkably loyal so far. Wasting their lives wasn’t really an option, not when he had the chance to get all of them out of the trap he’d landed them in.
Clearly, Karve had been right about the need to use an escort. Suluth wouldn’t have come if it was an entire banner of troops with him…but then it would have taken that much longer to move. He shook his head as they reached the hilltop and tried peering through the trees. There were shapes out there, but it was hard to see if they were Wargs or just trees moving with the wind.
He waited long enough that his other lifeguards should have had the chance to reach their positions. Then he nodded to his three illusionists, hoping that his guess about Suluth’s abilities was correct. “Start.”
The three Goblins began their Spell Chants, and Matt waited and watched the thicket below. It was even harder to see now that they had moved further away, but he thought he could see movement suddenly closing in around it. He heard one of his lifeguard curse, and when he glanced in their direction, they pointed at a spot down below.
Matt followed the direction of the finger and blinked as he suddenly saw at least a dozen Wargs loping along. They had to be illusions, generated as decoys for the actual Shadow Hunters. Their intention was obvious, though. The false Hunters closed in around the thicket, and suddenly arrows sprouted from the air. They showered over the thicket, and beside him, he heard the two Goblins gasp.
He glanced at them, and one of them whispered to him. “Someone broke my illusions, sire. It was someone strong.”
“Suluth, probably. She’s out there with them.” He tried not to sound like that bothered him, but the fact that she’d come personally was not the best sign. “Malwun, is your illusion still up?”
“Yes, sire.” The Goblin was speaking through clenched teeth, and Matt nodded.
“Keep it up as long as you can, but if you feel anything pushing against you, just let it go. Raise your hand when it happens.” She nodded, and he turned to the others. “The moment her hand goes up, I want all of you to throw whatever light spells you have right around that thicket. If any are destructive, try to hit the forces to the west. Then we’re going to head south, right past where the archers are hiding. Ride hard, but don’t say a single thing. Keep your Wargs from howling, or we’re dead. Understand?”
They nodded, and Matt turned his attention back to the false battle being waged below. A flicker of humor nearly made him chuckle. He wondered if the false Hunters or the false lifeguards were showing more wounds at the moment. A more serious thought occurred to him; how many real Hunters were out there, compared to the illusions? There were at least forty of the fakes, but he didn’t know if it was a one to one match. Were any of the illusions he could see duplicates?
He spent a pointless moment trying to figure that out, and then Malwun’s hand shot up. Matt had barely enough time to turn away and close his eyes before light flooded the darkened skies. Lightning blasted down from above, fire bloomed from below, and the roar of explosions tore across the terrain in a chain headed west. With any luck, Suluth would have been convinced that his lifeguard was headed straight for the city. While she chased that possibility, he would slip out of her grasp.
Matt led his guards down the slope, careful to slip down the east side of it. He heard howls headed west and grinned. A glance told him the rest of his lifeguard was sticking together as well, moving as quickly as they could down the hill.
It took an agonizing amount of time to make their way down the hill, across the road, and over to the thicket where the archers were hiding. They hopped down as Matt drew close, their postures briefly surprised. One of them leaned close. “I think we managed to wing at least a couple, sire, but there were a lot of illusions out there.”
“No sign of Suluth?” The Imp shook his head, and Matt grimaced. “No worry. That might have needed a bit too much fortune. All right, let’s head south.”
They ran across the remaining three lifeguards a moment later, coming on them as they were trudging through the snow back to their mounts. The Orc among them stepped forward, a broad grin on her face. “Found three of them, sire. They weren’t expecting us, though, just watching the brook. None of them will cause us any trouble now.”
“Well done.” Matt grinned. “Now, let’s get past that stream and out of Suluth’s clutches. Then we head west for a while, and then curve north. By the time she realizes what happened, I want to be back on the road and past her. Let’s move.”
If riding through the snow on the road had been hard, riding through the woods had been far, far worse.
The snow hid roots and holes and even the occasional underbrush, in addition to creating patches of slush that made it excessively easy for hooves or paws to slide out from under a mount. If that wasn’t bad enough, snow was occasionally tumbling from branches overloaded by the storm, half-burying unfortunate soldiers in miniature avalanches. At one point, a branch snapped under the weight and nearly smashed Malwun flat, but she managed to escape without more than snow down the neck of her tunic.
They continued to forge ahead, fighting through the snow as they turned west. At one point, Matt thought he heard Wargs howling to the north. He pictured Suluth figuring out she’d been deceived, and turning back towards their supposed battlefield to track his guards down. Hoping that he hadn’t lied to himself, Matt signaled for his guards to turn north.
It took far longer than he liked, but eventually they found the road once more. He thought he heard a sigh of relief run through the lifeguard as they turned west along the path; as choked by mud and snow as it was, it was still infinitely preferable to the terrain without it. Their pace now faster, Matt started them off at a decent clip, hoping that they could build up enough of a head start to slip out of Suluth’s hands entirely.
As the hours wore on, Matt felt the cold and fatigue seep into his bones. The snow continued to make things more and more difficult, but no one suggested they stop, not even to rest or eat. Even if they had to keep going through the night, it would be better to be cold and tired than to let the Hunters catch them again.
When the walls of Redspire loomed over him through the snow, Matt wondered if he was simply hallucinating, or if Suluth had somehow conjured the image to taunt him.
The sun had gone down a long time ago, though it was hard to tell with the clouds continuing to cover the sky. They had been hearing howls behind them, but it was hard to tell whether it was the wind or the Wargs. Either way, they had kept to the road and trusted in their own speed to see them to safety.
As might have been expected, the gates to the city were closed, but Matt saw torches on top of the walls, and immediately cleared his throat to try to call up to them. His throat felt rough, as if he hadn’t drunk water for a week. “Open the gates for your King!”
Some of the torches on top of the walls abruptly froze. Then they began moving in a frantic burst of activity. Moments later, he saw the gates slide open, albeit at an agonizingly slow pace. Now that he’d finally come to a stop, it was as if the force that had kept him moving was running out. Fatigue crashed in on him, and he wasn’t alone; the lifeguards around him were all slumped in their saddles and shuddering with the cold.
When the gates were finally open, Matt led the lifeguard through the opening. Half of them nearly collapsed as the gates groaned shut behind them; only a supreme effort of will kept Matt from joining them.
An Imp, a Goldplain by the skin tone, ran up to him a moment later. “Sire, we weren’t expecting you yet. Why were you out in this storm?”
Matt stared at him dully for a moment and then laughed. “The Lady Suluth decided to give us a bit of a chase. Let the rest of the Crown Guard know that she is in the area; they will need to keep watch to make sure she doesn’t come near the walls. Be careful. My lifeguard and I are going to rest in the castle.”
“Y-yes, sire. I’m sure the Maiden of Art will be overjoyed to see you!”
He continued staring at the Imp for a few more, uncomprehending seconds. “The who?”