Obsidian Ridge - Jess Lebow [68]
He wanted the citizens to feel as if their king lived among them, not holed up in a stone and metal castle, unapproachable and unseen. He believed in the strength of his army and of the speed of his scouts. He believed that the business of the kingdom should be conducted in a place of safety. And the architecture of the palace reflected that.
Korox might have thought his father short-sighted, except that he himself never would have imagined his kingdom invaded by a floating magical citadel. So he walked the few defenses that they had, looking for ways to improve them and working out a strategy for fighting the growing horde of gibbering black monsters massing under the Obsidian Ridge.
He spoke with each of the unit commanders and gave encouragement to the soldiers manning the wall. From up here, he could see down on the entrance to the palace. The drawbridge was being lowered, and the contingent he'd sent to the docks was returning.
Korox was eager to hear if they had any news. He'd sent them to deliver a message to the Matron, which in and of itself was not an easy task. They had been given five sealed envelopes, each an exact replica of the others. Inside was a simple letter from the king, addressed to the Matron, accepting the terms of her offer. He would turn over the Claw as soon as his Magistrates were able to locate and apprehend him. In return, the Matron would begin collecting her mages to help with a convocation. The exchange of the Claw for Princess Mariko would happen as soon as possible.
The five letters were delivered to the five most notorious criminal lords in Erlkazar, each being asked to pass it along to the Matron. Korox hoped that at least one of those letters would make it to its destination. There was little else he could do, other than post handbills all over the docks.
Working his way down into the great hall, the king greeted the contingent. He was relieved to see that all five messengers had returned.
"How did you fare?"
Five very young men, all sporting the official twin wyvern crest of the king, bowed before him, nervous from the attention they were receiving.
The oldest among them, no more than eighteen years, stepped forward, cleared his throat, and spoke.
"The letters have been delivered, my lord."
"Any trouble? Any response?"
The young man looked to the ground. "No trouble."
The king put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Son, this is no time to shy away from the details. You have done your job, and you have done it well." He lifted the messenger's chin, looking him in the eye. "Now you must tell me everything.
Even if you think I do not want to hear it." The young messenger nodded.
"My lord, at least two of the letters were torn to shreds upon delivery," he said. "Two others were opened and read aloud. The men reading them laughed and threatened us. But we were not harmed."
"And the last?"
"It was received, and we were asked to leave. No trouble, but we do not know the fate of it."
The king smiled. "You did well. All of you. There is a commission to the Magistrates for any of you who so wish it."
The boys looked to each other, clearly excited.
"But I have one last task for you before you take on your new duties," said the king. "Gather up all the royal messengers in the palace. Send them out in all directions. Spread the word. We need every spellcaster in Erlkazar to come to our aid. I'm calling a convocation. If Xeries wants a fight, we will give it to him."
"Yes, my lord," said the oldest. "Thank you, my lord."
The drawbridge had not even finished