The Broken Song

Chapter Forty

—Isca Kiverryn—

Night fell, bringing with it the eerie creaking of Isca Kiverryn's gate as they approached. Gathered outside in the main courtyard, there wasn't a soul that moved, those bearing witness to the sight offering only a shaking exhale that curled before their faces in the chilly air. For a breath, and then two, there was not a sound in all of Kiverryn, not the shuffling of nervous feet, not a frightened muttering, or even the confidence of an unsheathed sword. For those few moments, silence reigned within Kiverryn.

And, then, it began.

Ori struck first with a shockwave so powerful the front doors blew apart and crumbled into dust. For a beat, no one moved. Thancred readied his shield and spear, the first to move forward just as a figure appeared in the open doorway. Moonlight filtered through the stained glass window, bathing the form in long silvery bands that danced across the tall, well-built form.

King Everack.

At his side, held in his right hand, was his sword of black steel, a blade that had made a name for the king as he conquered lands for Valdornne and then for Iskendryn. He was a warrior of renown, and, with the Sorceress' magic flowing through him, his strength would be difficult to match. But, the Sorceress was nowhere to be found. The king came alone. That was troubling.

"You think your actions righteous?" King Everack's voice was surprisingly strong, commanding in tone despite the silence that had held him for so long. "You think the light of the Path is welcome in these halls? It is a wicked, vile thing. You bring not salvation, but death upon my door. Leave now."

"I'm afraid that cannot be done, my king," Ori bowed her head regretfully. "The Sorceress is feeding off the land to survive. The longer she stays, the more she will take from this land. She cannot be allowed to remain."

"My lady knows this," King Everack replied, never once glancing away from the armed soldier that stood before him. "Yet, there is naught she can do. There is no path home. The one who ripped her away made certain to seal the door behind her."

"When this is done, I promise to find whoever brought her here and hold them accountable for the suffering done upon Kiverryn. But, for now, we must stop her poison from infecting anywhere else. Killing her is the lesser evil."

The king let out a cheerless laugh. "What makes you think her life is worth less than the entire world, Savior? I've bled for Andavaran my whole life, fought to keep our borders safe, fought for Iskendryn pride. Andavaran isn't worth shite on a good day. But, her...I'd let the world burn before I hurt a hair on her head."

"How can you say such things?" Ori shook her head, her breathless voice aghast with the vehemence burning in his eyes. "Think of all the innocents that have suffered because of her. Think of your subjects that suffer even now. You would let that continue?"

"Do you know what happens when we die, Savior? You think the heavens part, a blinding white light descending to carry us off into eternal peace? No. There is no peace. There is only nothing. My life, in the end, was worth exactly that. You live for nothing, you get nothing. But, she...She walked into my kingdom, found me murdered, butchered on my own thrown, and brought me back. She asked for nothing in return, not one goddamn coin, food, or even shelter. She would have left if I hadn't asked her to stay. My people will only suffer if you fulfill your purpose this day." He brandished his sword. "And, that cannot happen."

"King Everack..."

But, the time for talk had passed. The king swung with such strength and speed, his closest opponent, Thancred, barely had time to dodge the blow. Ori aimed for him, a lightning strike powerful enough to sear him to ash, but the king transformed into a swirling black cloud of dust as only one from the Grave should be capable of doing. How the Sorceress could transfer such a power was troubling, but there was no time to contemplate the answer.