CHAPTER 51 – THE APPROACH
Dawn broke in Port Caliber and a dark storm cloud spread over the Barren Sea. It was no ordinary storm. No, the clouds looked far too dark to be normal. Something unnatural was entering the bay. The sun hit flat under the cloud and formed a beam of light that looked like a fleeting blanket. A young boy with his ankles in the water was the first one to see it.
Denison’s older sister focused on catching breakfast. She usually let the boy play if she did not require help fishing. He was nice enough to make the walk with her all the way from the stables district. Although she would never tell him, in risk of bruising his blossoming manliness, his company far more of worth than his help with the net. He still had a lot to learn, but Denison was a good little brother.
From Denison’s point of view, the shadow of the storm caught the Barren Sea and turned its water rotten. Disturbing monstrosities made their way to the shore underwater. Denison watched as the water between his feet began to taint. He followed the spread back out, all the way to the horizon, where the darkness looked like it was bunching up in clusters of sails.
Denison backed out of the water as a tentacle snatched his foot. It yanked him down and pulled him under furiously, dragging him out into the deep. His sister lunged after him and threw the fishnet as a lifeline for Denison to hold onto. Denison took a hold of the net and closed his eyes as he got thrashed around, water shooting up his nose.
Now being pulled along together, his sister took a rusty knife out of her boot and held it with her teeth, climbing the net to the boy. Denison panicked and swatted at the tentacle, his breath quickly running out. His sister grabbed him and pulled him in so she could reach Denison’s ensnared ankle. Denison did not hesitate. He took the knife from his sister’s mouth and plunged it into the tentacle, releasing them both. With a boost from his sister, Denison swam for the surface.
The relief of the surface breach filled Denison with fresh air and ecstasy. Underneath him, his sister succumbed to the shadowy depths. Black algae swallowed her up and mutated her under the water. It would not be the last time she would ever be seen. It’s just that no one would ever recognize her after today, save maybe one. Denison could not wait; he was exhausted and the darkness was surrounding him. The boy swam back to the beach and crawled out of the water. He fell on the sand sobbing uncontrollably, trying to catch his breath and looked back one more time for his older sister, but he knew… as he watched the sea turn before his very eyes. She was gone.
People passed him on the beach. The wailing winds had pulled them out of their houses and brought their attention to the stormy horizon. Denison tried to warn them from going near the water, but no one took the word of a kid seriously. The boy ran because that is all he knew to do. He ran home to the only person that would believe him, his mother.
Port Caliber was truly a vast city, with its rolling fields out to the east, the Arbalest bridge to North Caliber, and most notable, its towers. Most of them housed the citizens of the Pride and looked similar albeit of varying constructions. That was except for the government buildings which were exquisitely carved out of the same fireproof crimson stone as the Zepathorum Citadel. Vestige Tower was a thin tower that came to a spiraling point, with perforated ridges lining its entire surface leading up to the point, which resembled an ornamental spear mounting the top of the building. This tower archived the most treasured artifacts of the Lion kingdom. These halls were filled with history. It was the same place King Theomitus’ funeral procession stopped for the viewing.
There were so many floors in the Vestige Tower that it didn’t just house the kingdom’s museums and assembly halls. The upper floors were all dedicated to the kingdom’s congress. On this particular floor, on this particular day, during this particular morning, Galastad Borigini squabbled with the politicians over law and precedent. He found the conversation getting tiresome and excused himself to peer out the window. What an odd looking sunrise…
The light shined flatly, paralleling the land underneath, like a sandwich; MagnaThora, the field of sunlight, and the storm cloud on top. The golden sunshine appeared to retract in on itself as the clouds took over, revealing the Barren Sea. A view of the bay always calmed his nerves. Today it didn’t. The bay was black and as he followed the crunchy horizon back in towards the city…what’s that? The docks were on fire.
If Galastad had taken one more moment before reacting he would have seen the legions of ships sailing into the port. The Metuchen warrior was already in action. Galastad barely knew how he got to throwing the deliberation table over so quickly. All he knew was he needed to get out there and do something about this. The calculations locking into place as he figured it out. Axion was away. Only the Queen ruled. The Casterosi house was missing. This did not bode well for the kingdom’s defenses. The vassals will struggle to call their banners. It would be up to the municipality. It would be up to the national government to respond. That’s when Galastad stopped dead in his tracks.
“Where is Governor Demeter?”
“He never arrived for the meeting.”
“Which is odd because-”
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“He usually leads them.” Galastad finished the sentence.
Demeter’s absence might be the biggest clue to the fact that this kingdom was in serious danger. The Coast Watch would be completely caught off guard and most likely dispatched immediately by the enemy. His best bet was to rally the kingdom’s militia with the emergency beacon. The confused bureaucrats had no idea what was going on. Before Galastad left to put on his battle armor, he beckoned onto them.
“If any of you know how to wield a sword, meet me at the beaches, spread the word, and for you cowards quietly plotting to flee the city already, burn the damn beacon at the top of the tower first so we can at least warn the rest of the kingdom. Make no mistake. This is war.”
The air became slightly disturbed. Not quite like a gust of wind, but more of an invisible tremor. Reality split open and swirled around, forming into a portal. The churning cosmic fire tilted forward and out spilled Cipher and Mercinestor Casterosi. They fell to the deck helplessly. Cipher got to his knees to have a look around. He could not believe his eyes. He was on a southern warship. The amethyst dragon sigil waved above him on a black sail. Ahead of the boat was Port Caliber, but to Cipher’s complete and utter dismay… behind them was an invasion fleet of over a thousand warships.
His father, Lord Mercinestor of Castle Rosi Island was badly injured. Cipher tried to help him up as best he could with his wrists tied together. A decorated warrior walked out of the ship’s cabin to have a look at the new cargo. He was certainly their leader, but Cipher did not think that he was just the ship’s captain. This warrior had a title more significant than that, Cipher deduced. This was the commander of the fleet, and they were on the flagship. Cipher was too clever for his own good. Fear ran deep through his heart, fear for his life and his father’s life.
Zorrowfold gave them a brief look before focusing back on the portal. Cipher trembled as their captor fell through the portal, landing gracefully on his feet. Zorrowfold dropped to one knee.
“Hail the dark lord!”
The rest of the sailors kneeled and hailed the cloaked warrior.
“Admiral Zorrowfold, it has been a taxing day. Pray you have good news for me.”
He towered over everyone in his bizarre armor and dark cloak, wielding a black metal sword that quietly glowed around its edges. The plates of his armor looked like they were made of stone that seemed to twitch ever so slightly. The hood of his cloak covered most of his face. Cipher could see he was wearing a vanity mask. One of the relics of the ancients and common in the south, vanity masks served as a way to render physical attraction irrelevant. The coarse cobalt mask had razor thin slits for eyes, with a subtle, almost non-existent nose, and an upended oblong opening around the mouth that revealed his pointed chin. Zorrowfold stepped forward to report.
“My lord, we have arrived at Port Caliber.”
“Excellent timing.”
The dark lord picked up Mercinestor by the neck like he weighed nothing and used him to threaten Cipher.
“Tell me where the Ignaleos Cor is or I will kill your father.”
Mercinestor managed to shake his head while in the chokehold. He didn’t want Cipher to give up the cor, no matter the cost. Cipher refused to answer. Enough time went by for the Dark Lord to get the idea. He threw Mercinestor back down to the floor and stepped on his head, pinning him down. He placed the side of his black sword’s tip on Mercinestor’s face, barely breaking the skin.
“STOP!” Cipher screamed.
“Last chance, Casterosi. Tell me where it is…”
The sword pressed down onto Mercinestor’s temple. He squirmed in pain. He somehow managed to maintain eye contact with his son as a little blood dripped across his eye. He was a tough old man. His look turned from agony to pure horror as the glow on the edge of the black sword expanded and started to suck the life out of him. Cipher could not believe it. He could see the hairs of his father’s mustache turn grey and white, one by one, more and more, and his eyes fade.
“If you do not tell me where the Ignaleos Cor is I will let the reaper blade drain him dry and throw you overboard, chained to the dead weight. You will drown with your father’s corpse as your country burns.”
Cipher’s shoulders sunk. It was hopeless. “Who are you?”
The Dark Lord Malinor smiled. He turned to give orders to Admiral Zorrowfold. “Begin the invasion. Do not relent until you reach the gates of Zepathorum.”
“As you wish, my lord” Zorrowfold bowed and relieved himself.
“Why are you doing this?” Cipher asked.
Malinor looked out at the approaching city before he answered.
“Because I want to. And there is nothing that can stop me.”