Chapter 1 - Angel

 

The sweet smell of burning oil filled the room, the lamps illuminated one side of the basement leaving the other half pitched in darkness. A pouch full of coins had recently been paid to have this lower level dug, twelve feet floor to ceiling. The construction was devoid of worked stone. The floor was dirt, with thick wooden beams supporting the ceiling. An ecosystem of worms and roots grew out of the walls lending to an already damp, earthy smell. Mirrors of different sizes and shapes hung from long iron nails driven into the walls. There were racks holding mundane weapons of wood and steel and special ones forged with blades of silver, gold, iron and bronze. The ground had been swept clear of loose debris leaving tiny long legged spiders to creep across it. On the center of the floor at the apex of light and darkness was a three-foot diameter circle drawn with silver dust and filled with a complicated series of arcane symbols scribed with bone powder. An earthen staircase was the only exit.

Garthadon’s team of undead hunters waited quietly upstairs. An archer, a ranger and a priest sat in quiet readiness. They waited, occasionally getting up to pace, as they listened for any indication of something gone awry below. They knew what the mage attempted and were careful not to disturb him. The trio had complete confidence in their leader, nevertheless nerves and boredom tested their patience.

Garthadon put his face to the ground and checked to be sure that there were no breaks in the circle and that the thickness of the silver powder was consistent along its circumference. All the sigils and diagrams were prepared. He began his casting making slight movements with his wrists, arms, and hands. He softly chanted incantations. The wizard’s brown eyes narrowed and a ray of red light streamed from his hand. The magic circle held the light causing the silver dust to glow with a soft red hue. Then he increased the rhythm of his archaic chant. He continued for nine minutes, thrice repeating a lengthy chorus as wisps of prismatic light fell off him. Garthadon’s focus was intent, outwardly he would have seemed a man possessed. He sped up, his voice beckoning with an authority that was not his own, “Megeara!”

An outline of crackling red energy began to take shape within the circle, vaguely human, with large wings protruding from its back. Inside the outline the emerging features of the summoned creature swept aside the darkness. Skin moved over emptiness, arms and legs took shape. The great wings became pure white as they stretched slowly to a magnificent wingspan of fourteen feet, exceeding the boundary of the silver ash, taking on the substance of a beautiful feathered bird. Garthadon ceased his casting, and beheld his summoned creature with awe. His knees were somewhat bent, his head somewhat lowered, his eyes stared up.

The Angel stood before him, encircled by the silver powder that still glowed with colored light. The energy that formed her, or rather transported her, was now gone. Burning red irises quickly faded, leaving her with kind violet eyes set in a face that was perfectly serene. Her skin was flawless with a golden tone to it, accentuated by long golden blond hair. She wore a two-piece suit of exceptional steel armor. The top piece was a shapely metal plate that fit seamless around her breasts and shoulders. The lower half was a scalemail skirt that seemed to hang on her hips, with a silver encrusted scabbard and gold hilted longsword attached to her wide, tough belt. Slung over her back she carried a quiver and a mighty composite longbow. She folded her wings down, without a thought, and tilted her head in discernment. A long moment passed as the mage stared at his summoned creature. At first struck with awe, Garthadon’s attention fixed on the angel’s lips as she spoke to him in a voice every bit as beautiful as she. Beguiled, his mind filled with carnal fantasy until the room was forgotten, and he wanted desperately to touch her. He could hear the melody of her voice but not decipher the words. It took all of Garthadon’s concentration to bring his eyes above her neck. His imagination soon went wild and he was unable to make eye contact. He let his gaze fall, his eyes drinking her figure greedily.

“How did you discover my true name?” Her voice finally pierced him, driving the wizard out of his lustful imaginations.

“Huh?” He turned flush, ashamed of his lewd daydreaming about a holy being in her very presence. The mage was astonished with the momentary perversity of his mind. He normally regarded himself, as one that did not dwell on base passions.

She smiled at him with a sympathetic look which further embarrassed him and caused him to wonder if she had been privy to his thoughts. “You used my true name in summoning me. I will know how you came about this knowledge; It is quite forbidden,” she said.

“Yes. Please forgive me calling upon you, holy daughter of the heavens.” He faltered for the right wording, and smoothed his faded blue cloak with a tug as he sought in his character to have strength in dealing with a creature that impressed him as she did. “I will tell all you ask of me, but first I must tell you why I have called upon you, and if you can forgive my boldness, perhaps we can make a pact.”

“My attention is committed.” She replied.

“I am a vampire hunter. One of no little accomplishment I might add, though I do not mean to be boastful. There is a particular member of the in-denial-dead I have sought for quite some time. Most of my exploits of the past few years have been leading up to this.” The old mage took a breath as he reached for confidence then exhaled. “That is where you come in. I stumbled upon the secret of your name, and the spell for summoning you when my company and I made our last kill. I have finally been able to pinpoint the location of the master vampire I seek.”

“What deal do you propose?” The celestial asked, with a voice of consideration.

“The pact is this.” He went over the wording in his head. Garthadon knew he should choose his words carefully when making pacts with extra-planer beings. However, this was a creature of law, summoned from the fabric of goodness, and carrying with her the very spirit of honesty. He had assurance that she would not search the terms for a loophole and he did not wish to insult her with undo caution. “You will accompany me to a village called Willowview. There we will confront the master vampire together. You are free to return to the heavens upon his second death, the moment his empty corpse no longer walks in this world. In return for your assistance, I will give you this locket upon which I discovered your identity, and I will not share your name with anyone.” He looked at her, waiting for her answer.

“I will accept your terms with the addition of but one clause,” She said. The angel let her words hang as she looked over the summoner, increasing his nervousness before returning her gaze to his face and locking her eyes with his. “I shall be obeyed without question.”

Her demand startled him. “I don’t think so. I would have to discuss that with my fellow hunters”

“You are their leader, and now you must prove it by making a hard decision. I am the only one worthy to lead as my very body is a holy symbol and I have the most at stake,” she said, absent a trace of vice in her voice, drawing attention to her form with a gesture of her hands and a deep breath.

His eyes followed her motion and glanced up at her chest as she respired but he caught himself and looked quickly away revolted of his own irreverence. Garthadon lowered his eyes to her feet clad in black leather sandals, interlacing around her calves, to just below her knees. He began to question in himself if he was not in fact unworthy. Looking to the side unwilling to make eye contact he tried again to assert himself. “I know your true name I can compel you to…”

“Careful mortal!” Her voice crackled as she interrupted him with new sternness, spreading her wings to their full glory. The sudden extension of her wings caused him to recoil. “Do not threaten one from the host of heaven.”

Her wings slowly receded. “Make your choice without reluctance, for I will consider you equally bound.” Her temperament lightened and she spoke softly to him. “I want to help you, dear Garthadon. I would help without condition, just for the sake of righteousness, except that I have so much at stake, and you have driven a hard bargain.”

It startled him somewhat that she knew his name, though it shouldn't have been much of a surprise. He stared at her, taking in the compassionate look she wore on her face, all the sensuality gone, just kind violet eyes mixed with supreme beauty. He resolved to trust her.

She could read in his demeanor the choice he had made. “You may call me Imarra, do not use my true name again.”

He marveled at her a moment longer his gaze coming to rest on her eyes. “The deal is sealed according to both of our terms.” He said a few words in the language of magic and with a wave of his hand, dismissed the pale light that encircled his new leader.

Imarra stepped towards him, the ring of silver powder gone, consumed by the magic that summoned her. She held out a slender hand, “The locket please.” He hesitated before pulling it out of his blue robe, and grasped it in one hand, as it remained fastened around his neck. She moved slowly toward him, reaching her strong slender arms around his neck, bringing her face close to his. “We will find this evil that torments you so, dear mage,” she whispered. Her breath smelled of lilacs. The old mage bowed his head as she removed the locket and chain, the smooth skin of her arms warm against his neck, and fastened it around her own.

 

Chapter 2 - King

 

"Your Majesty, ever since you granted oversight of the Crown Guard to my son, the commander has demonstrated an unwillingness to cooperate with him. It seems that he misses his autonomy and begrudges Agonius the directorship," Chamberlain Viscus said.

The King looked around his tower war room. The heavy double-doors of oak and iron were shut and locked from within. Several arched openings in the stone walls provided fresh air in mild gusts. The King looked across the large stone table at his brother the Chamberlain then at his nephew Agon. "There is no need for formal pretensions; it is just the three of us. Please speak plainly and tell me what it is that you would have me do."

"Very well Eratide. Agon wishes to replace the commander. He has grown too accustomed to his position and defends it with an assiduity that should be reserved for his chief responsibility," Viscus said.

The King responded by staring at the chamberlain with a blank expression.             "Protecting us Eratide, that is the chief responsibility of the Crown Guard."

"I know that Vis. Who would you replace him with? Who is there that we could trust more than the commander? I appointed him when I was a mere twenty circles old. You advocated his appointment yourself, and my dear wife thought him a true, though single minded man" The King stared again with a blank look that became a gradual smile as he remembered a past conversation with his late Queen. Oh, how these issues of state now wearied him.

The youth stepped closer to the table, it was covered in detailed maps of the city. The king snapped out of his daydream, knowing that these two never missed anything, he hoped they would not mention his wandering mind this time. He then marveled a moment at his nephew’s eyes. The Queen also had eyes like Agon's. When she passed away, his nephew's eyes turned silver. He could never get used to looking into them. It was like looking into two coins with their centers bore out, leaving black holes ringed with silver.

Agon was dour as usual. "Uncle, my father pleads my case as your chamberlain and not as my sire. The man in question needs to accept the honors due to him and pass the reigns of the commandership to the next appointee, lest the man and I render each other inept by vice of competing influence."

The King sighed "Who do you propose to replace him with?"

Agon paused for a moment. He usually wore a black cloak with a deep hood that covered his face in shadow, but the king did not like for Agon to keep his face hidden before him so his short light brown hair was uncovered. His skin was well polished and fair. He was thin but not frail. "I believe Alturek would make for a suitable replacement, uncle."

"Corrine's personal bodyguard! Does he even wish the post?" The King walked over to one of the arched windows looking out of the tower. He could see a large portion of Nobleside and knew that beyond this ward of the city was his beloved daughter. She was probably arriving at the festival in Black Square even as he conducted this meeting. Alturek was undoubtedly with her and that was perhaps the greatest reason he had not to fear for her safety. "He has been my daughter's protector since she was born. What would she say? Who would we replace him with?"

"Please Uncle." Agon said. "This matter does not require undo urgency, but your thoughtful attention. All I am asking, is permission to place potential candidates before you. If they will not do, then keep Alturek, no harm done. If I do however find a man worthy to be her royal highness’s protector, then release Alturek from his current duty so that I may promote him."

"Very well, Agon," the king said, turning toward his nephew. "I will consider who you put before me albeit with a very critical eye and I am doubtful that I will ever agree to release Alturek. Have you advised him of your intentions?"

"Of course not, uncle. I am sure he will claim that his is the greatest responsibility already. He may even consider his elevation a demotion. He is a modest man without any ambition above his sworn duty. It is for this very reason that he is a better choice than any other to be the commander of the Crown Guard. Furthermore, Corrine shall be Queen someday and whom do you want then to head the Crown Guard, who would be more appropriate than her most faithful protector?"

The King sighed.

"Well," said Viscus, "It seems my role here is finished and I have a festival to get to, as do you two. If you don't mind, I shall take my leave now."

"Goodbye little brother,” the king said. “Agon and I shall be right behind you."

"Don't forget your lines. The rabble looks forward to your vision to guide the course of the city. You must prepare them for the possibility of war from below." The Chamberlain gestured with his hands a somatic recitation for the spell of teleportation as he muttered unintelligible words, then vanished without a trace.

"Uncle," Agon said, "Do you think war will come from the Denizens below? It has been many centuries since they last attempted an assault upon the city. Some have relegated their potential as a threat to the annals of history."

"I don't know Agon. They stir beneath us and I fear their threat is in fact quite real. You must appreciate the great amount of trust being placed in you. No one is better placed to threaten my daughter's throne if something were to happen to me."

Agon was taken aback by his unexpected words. "I do appreciate it and I have no desire to be. . .King. Mine is the path of the arcane, ruler-ship would probably be intolerably boring and grievous.” Agon moved to look out the window. “Also, I love and admire my cousin. I would never attempt to raise myself above her as I shall gain more satisfaction elevating her. As a matter of fact, I doubt any, in your absence would protect her with greater dedication then me, my father and Alturek. If ever I give you cause to doubt this, I will step down from my positions and seal myself in my tower. It would be a great disappointment but I would go without wrath."

"I do trust you completely, Agon. I held you as a babe and gave to you everything that would have been my own sons if Crotear had ever seen fit to grant me one. What is an uncle if not a second father, not a usurper of the natural father but an extension of him? I had to speak to you about it because your prominence in stately matters has been greater than Corrine's. This has certainly been noticed by the council. I hope I haven’t insulted you Agon."

"A little uncle, but I will get over it. I suppose we should get to the festival. Is it true that you will be sitting in a dunking tank?"

"It’s true," The king answered with disconcertion evident in the wrinkling of his forehead. "Corrine wished for me to take a more festive role in the celebrations this year."

"Ha, how did she get you to agree to that? Was it blackmail uncle?"

The King laughed. "Agon, if you had a daughter you would not even wonder about it. That girl can get me to do nearly anything with nothing more than the expression she wears on her face."

"Then it is true, the princess is the power behind the throne already."

"She is." The king answered with a grin. "Come let us be off." The king unlocked the door with his golden scepter, by waving it before the entry.

"Where are you going?" Agon asked. "I can get us there much quicker. I know you hate to travel this way but considering you’re already late...

"A king is never late Agon,” They exchanged a smirk. “Go ahead teleport us. Just hold on to me in case I faint from it."

"The whole city is early uncle?

“Not the whole city just a few thousand"

"Very well," Agon grabbed King Eratide's shoulders. "Look at me your majesty, stare into my eyes."

"Ok, I'm staring, let’s go." The King stared as Agon’s pupils turned to blood and began to trickle slightly over his lower eye lid.

"We are already there, uncle. I prepared the spell ahead of time." The sounds of celebration followed the Mage's voice. "Do not get disjointed, slowly look away from me."

Eratide pulled himself back, slowly taking in the world around him. His breath shortened for a moment and his heart beat fast then he felt fine. He was surrounded by his elite guard. He turned around to see his daughter awaiting his arrival. Alturek stood below her ever vigilant. Princess Corrine catching site of her father stood up and waved excitedly at him. Eratide returned the wave then looked over at the dunking tank.

"I can't believe I am going to sit in that cage like some damn fool," the King grumbled to himself, "This is beneath me."

Agon stood next to the king looking him up and down. "Are you going to wear that your majesty, what happens when you get dunked?"

"Are you mad, Agon?" The King removed his heavy robe of white and gold. "I am King Eratide Amorgoden of the Armor-Goden-Deznirian linage, nobody would dare dunk me." The king handed his robe to his nephew then entered the dunking booth's cage and sat on the stool.

He couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable the simple stool was compared to the cushions that he was used to. As the event opened and people lined up, King Eratide began hurtling insults into the crowd. “Do any of you lanky armed, halfwit fools have the skill to hit the target?"

The contestants would throw a large onion from twenty feet away attempting to hit a lever that would open a trapdoor below his majesty, dropping him into a vault of cold water.  Princess Corrine’s blond curls and blue eyes were seventeen circles old. She sat on a purple cushion with gold fringe, in her box-seat a few feet above the crowd. She watched her father's antics with amusement, accompanied by her two attendant ladies who were seated in the box upon their own extravagant cushions alongside her.