• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 397 0

in the Crystal Palace, staring down at the city below his feet. To all appearances, he was waiting impatiently for his enemy. A glance showed him his War Masters at their posts, observing from vantage points both within the Crystal Palace and without Xavier and his ministers planned to be able to gauge Sharakan’s military strength by the Challenge. In particular they expected to get some hint of how Garald intended to utilize the Dark Arts of the Sorcerers in his battle formations. Not that Xavier expected Prince Garald to reveal all his secrets. No, the Prince was far too intelligent a military strategist for that. Still, Garald would have to exhibit some of his military might in order for his Challenge to be taken seriously and, according to old custom, “frighten” Merilon into surrender.

Xavier knew, of course, from his spies in Sharakan, that the Sorcerers had taken up residency in that city and that they were working day and night developing weapons. But his spies had been unable to penetrate that closed society, whose years of persecution made them wary of strangers. The DKarn-Duuk had no idea what weapons they were developing and how many. Worst of all—as far as Xavier was concerned—he had no idea if the Sorcerers had discovered how to use darkstone or whether the Darksword—forged by Joram—was the only weapon in existence made of the magic-absorbing ore.

An Ariel, one of the winged messengers of Thimhallan, appeared outside Xavier’s wall, the mutated man’s gigantic wings beating slowly in the morning breeze, allowing him to rest on the air currents that swirled gently about the Palace.

Dissolving the wall with a wave of his hand, Xavier motioned the Ariel to fly inside.

“The Taking of the Corridors has just been completed, my lord,” the Ariel informed his Emperor.

“Thank you. Return to your post.” Dismissing the messenger, Xavier absently replaced the wall, then gave the prearranged signal. Red smoke filled the sky. His War Masters ceased talking among themselves and crowded near the walls, watching expectantly.

The DKarn-Duuk himself was prepared to witness the event from the best possible vantage point, having had his study magically transported to the topmost turret of the crystal-spired Palace. Looking down, he could see the people of Merilon jostling to gain the best views of the proceedings. The wealthy rode in their splendid winged carriages or drifted lightly among the clouds of City Above. The middle-classes flowed into City Below, gathering around the Gates, crowding into the Grove, massing around the perimeter of the protective magical dome.

There was a festive air about the crowd. Not even the oldest among them could remember the last time a Challenge had been issued. It was an historic occasion and excitement was widespread. Lavish parties were being given by the nobility this night following the Challenge. Military garb of every day and age was the style; the city looked somewhat like an encampment of Julius Caesar’s that had been overrun by the combined forces of Attila the Hun and King Richard the Lion-Hearted. But amid all this heady excitement, there ran a single thread of disappointment. One tiny cloud cast a shadow over an otherwise perfect day.

There was to be no party held at the Crystal Palace.

People wondered at this. Emperor Xavier was known to be a serious-minded man (some even used the term dour to describe him—but only in whispers). Everybody believed it perfectly right and proper that he treat this war seriously. But a party in honor of the momentous event had been expected and, when it was not forthcoming, when word went out that the Emperor specifically demanded not to be disturbed, people exchanged dark looks and shook their heads. Such a thing would not have happened under the old Emperor, they said wistfully (again only in whispers). And more than a few began to speculate that perhaps this war wasn’t going to be the easy victory. The DKarn-Duuk had been predicting.

Xavier knew the people were disturbed by his refusal to celebrate tonight. His Minister of Morale had spent