Irkev and Nagya arrived back in the palace barely ahead of the monstrosity that was Conrad Akos. The so-called Second-General of Teyva Akura had viciously pursued them to the gates, his nightmares chasing them all the way up the road that hugged the mountainside. Their men had barely had enough time to close the doors of the palace before the horrors started throwing themselves against it. Nagya had used her [Aspect of the Lord of the Wastes] to freeze the joints of the door and hold it shut. It would have to do. No sooner did they finally secure their surroundings that one of the soldiers bolted toward the eastern corridor. Suspecting treason, Irkev sent a small group to pursue and capture the traitor.
Minutes later, Nagya shifted on her feet, “They aren’t coming back.”
Irkev looked over his shoulder at the doors to the palace that shuddered once under the force of some terrible blow. He looked back toward the corridor and set his jaw, “I’ll go check it out,” He said, “You men! Come with me!” He barked, marching off toward the eastern corridor with about a dozen men with him. It didn’t take long to find the trouble. The small group were sitting on the ground, holding their heads and shivering. He frowned and looked past them, freezing on the spot. A wall of inky black stretched across the entire corridor, whisps of black smoke roiling off of it menacingly. The soldiers behind him murmured amongst themselves while he drew in closer. “You there! What’s happening here?”
One of the sitting men looked up and gasped, “Commander! Don’t come closer!” He shrieked, “Get back!”
Irkev scowled and stopped, “What is it?”
“We can’t leave!” One of them babbled, “We try to go back down the corridor but just end up back here!”
Irkev wrinkled his nose, “The hell do you mean by that? Get on your feet and come over to me, now!” He barked.
One of the men, younger than the others, staggered to his feet and looked helplessly at Irkev. He looked back at the shadowy wall and then swallowed. With a building scream he broke into a run, charging directly at Irkev. He threw out his hands. “Please! Grab me sir!” He begged.
Not understanding, Irkev reached out for the soldier only for a shadowy pit to appear at the soldier’s feet. The soldier fell instantly, slipping into the darkness that swallowed him up. An instant later he stumbled out of the shadowy wall and dropped to his knees, holding himself as his breath came out in visible clouds. “C-can’t escape. C-can’t fight. C-can’t do anything,” he shuddered out in short gasps, madness in his eyes. “Over and over and over.”
Irkev took a step back and gestured to one of the men behind him, “Go get Nagya, perhaps we can dispel this accursed wall.”
The man nodded his affirmative and raced back down the corridor. Five minutes later Nagya arrived with a few more men at her heels. They slid to a stop when they saw the black wall resisting their progress. Nagya swallowed and looked at the men who were trapped in its area of effect. She looked again at the shadows and drew her hands back, starlight forming on her fingertips. She took a deep breath and threw her hands forward, a flash of light turning into a beam that pierced the shadowy wall. She turned her fingers over, spreading her hands out and slowly, agonizingly slowly, parted the shadows. Finally the shadowy wall collapsed in on itself. The men who had been trapped at it let out cries of relief and raced away from the spot, fleeing behind the line of fresh troops.
Clouds of black smoke began to dissipate, Nagya formed up next to him and tensed. “There’s someone over there.”
Irkev frowned and squinted through the clouds until finally a single figure took shape on the other side of where the wall had been. A woman sat in a chair that appeared to have been taken from one of the nearby offices. She was leaning forward, her grey-green skin easy to see in the light that flooded the chamber. She was leaning on her elbows, a small black knife in her hand and what looked like an honor sword on her hip. She twirled the knife between her fingers thoughtfully, as if she’d been just waiting for someone to bring the wall down. A Warden? Since when did wardens have powers that involved shadows? The warden’s lupine eyes swept over the group until they landed on Irkev.
“You the commander?” She asked cooly, her tone grim and hard.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“I am, Commander Irkev Banniko and this is trainee-ascendant Nagya. Name yourself intruder,” Irkev growled, gesturing to Nagya. Hopefully the thought of fighting a near-ascendant would be enough to-
The woman’s frown twitched, “Ascendant, is that it’s called? Good name,” She growled and stopped spinning her knife. She clenched it in her hand. “I am Azrael Unabi,” The woman said, “First Daughter of King Thrake. Sister to the Queen as well as her First General. Seems like you had a hard time with Conrad,” Her voice was like a whisper but it carried through the entire group. The men shifted on her feet warily. Irkev swallowed and glanced at Nagya who had begun to sweat a little. This woman was a princess of the nation that they’d turned on in favor of the humans.
“First General?” Irkev asked, trying to keep her talking, “So you are Conrad’s superior.”
“Senior, there’s a difference,” Azrael hissed, “You can quit feigning interest, though, I’m not here for your men. They can go if they want,” She leaned her head forward and pierced him with a stare that made his skin crawl, “You could too. Just leave. I’m not here to fight unless you try to go past me.”
“What is past you?” Nagya demanded.
“Wild guess,” Azrael said with a wicked grin.
“The Fallen Prince, The High Priest,” Irkev muttered, “This isn’t just punishment, this is a coup. I assume the Dark Priestess is somewhere beyond you as well?”
Azrael raised her eyebrows and nodded, “Got it in one, glad to see at least someone in your military has a brain.”
“You’re awfully forthcoming,” Nagya snarled, “Confident? The Dark Priestess was crushed by the High Priest last time they dueled, she has not a hope in the world. Whomever else you have brought has no chance against the Palace Guards, they are the elite-”
I am the Cure for what ails Her.
The words echoed through their minds. Irkev whipped his head toward Nagya who stepped back a step, eyes wide. Azrael lowered her head and spun her knife once. “That’s one. Guessing that’s Sari Troud, the Third General.” Irkev opened his mouth just as another voice ripped through reality, he could feel the entire palace shudder this time.
I am the Voice of the Goddess
Azrael tapped her foot, “And that makes Four, Myranda Wylafon. Sounds like she got a good one.”
“The Dark Priestess is an ascendant?” Nagya whispered, “A priestess ascended?” Irkev saw all the blood drain from the woman’s face. “There are four enemy ascendants here?”
Azrael leaned forward and looked them dead in the eyes, “Last chance.”
Irkev stood his ground, regardless of how afraid he was, he would not dishonor himself and his king by running away. He drew himself up and pointed his sword at the First General. “I assume you are the strongest?”
Azrael sighed, “I’m done talking,” She said and twirled her knife one last time. She caught the blade between her fingers, still sitting on the chair, and flicked it at the ground. Immediately Nagya rotated her hands and fingers, drawing up a protective barrier of starlight around her and the rest of the soldiers. The brilliant light filled the space, banishing the shadows in the corridor. Nagya opened her mouth to say something when a gurgle broke the silence behind her and Irkev. They both turned to see one of the soldiers gripping his throat and falling to his knees, blood spilling on the palace floor.
Irkev whipped his head back at Azrael. She was holding her knife again and looking… bored. She was bored. He looked down at his feet as a sudden terrible realization hit him. Shadows. There were shadows at their feet! He looked up at Azrael again who looked him in the eyes and shrugged. “Should have run,” She said, and threw her knife at the ground again, and again, and again, and again. Men died one at a time. All hell broke loose as the soldiers tried to figure out where the attacks were coming from.
Irkev grabbed Nagya’s shoulder, “The barrier! The light is creating shadows at our feet!”
Nagya turned her head and looked at him but didn’t see him. Terror had broken her. He grit his teeth and looked back at the First General who drew her weapon up again to throw. He drew his own weapon and barreled toward the side of the barrier Nagya had made. He hit the side and stumbled back, solid as a rock. He turned around and saw another man die, and then another. He looked at Nagya and swore to the heavens before charging in her direction, driving his sword up and into her heart. The Ascendant Trainee coughed, blood dripping from her lips as the barrier faded. She dropped to the ground and gasped, not even enough sense to say her last words.
Breathing hard, Irkev threw his sword down and pointed down the corridor, “Retreat! Fall back to the Throne Room!”
“Oh no, I already gave you that chance,” Azrael’s cold voice echoed around him. Light faded and dark smoke coiled until it formed a dome around the soldiers. He spun on his heels and charged at the dark wall, stumbling forward and finding himself on the opposite side of the shadowy dome, still inside. He looked down at his bloodied hands, he looked over at Nagya’s body, he looked up at his men. Doomed men. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you watch anymore. You seem like a good guy,” Azrael's cold voice bit through his skull followed by a sharp pain in his throat.