XENIXALA

  Chief Evoker Xenixala of Xendor, Forsaker of The Kin, Defeater of The Beast of Yensur and bachelor of crochet design at Histoon Night School for Women appeared in a puff of smoke in the streets of Porkhaven, her heels clicking onto the cobbles. The Scroll of Town Portal vanished from her fingers and she returned Wordsworth to her hands. He complained awfully if he spent too much time tucked under her arm, no matter what deodorant she conjured. The Royal District they had apparated into was the most bearable part of the city, and yet it still had the unmistakable whiff of piss. Some thought Porkhaven’s aroma was part of its charm, Xenixala thought those people had a urine fetish. Still, at least the streets weren’t coated in too much mud, which would save her boots, and most of the passers-by were sober, which would save her sanity.

  A wall loomed before her, thick and layered with a lattice of granite blocks. Dozens of towers soured above it, shining in the midday sun. The Royal Palace. It reminded her of Porkwarts School For Witches Not Wizards.

  ‘Xenixala will demonstrate to the class how to levitate down from the tallest tower. She will then cure herself of the unknown poison she just drank.’

  Wordsworth wriggled free and plopped to the floor. ‘What are we doing here?’ he flapped. ‘I thought we were looking for The Chosen One?’

  Xenixala sighed. ‘We are. It’s in the prophecy isn’t it?’

  Wordsworth’s pages remained motionless.

  ‘Think about it, what does the prophecy say?’

  Wordsworth cleared his throat or at least made the sound as if he actually had a throat to clear, then opened his pages wide.

  ‘Have you heard the tale,

  of The Chosen One? The Chosen One?

  With highest Experience, and never undone.

  ‘I didn’t want you to actually sing the wretched thing. You sound like a cat being strangled by a wad of scrolls.’

  He continued, unperturbed,

  ‘The greatest adventurer,

  Gentle and kind,

  A stronger man you will not find.’

  ‘Grenden the dragon,

  Would rage no more,

  When he shot its mighty maw.

  ‘Our great King,

  Learned of his might,

  So sent him many beasts to fight.

  ‘There,’ Xenixala interrupted, tapping her foot with impatience. ‘That verse.’

  ‘The King?’ Wordsworth’s spine bent upwards into an uncertain arc. ‘The King knows The Chosen One?’

  ‘Exactly. I don’t know why we didn’t just come here in the first place.’ Xenixala reached down and rested her hand on the cold cobbles. ‘It’s like The Nuub said, either he’s done everything in the prophecy, or will do it. One way or another, we’ll get some info.’

  Her hand glowed orange, creating a burning ring around it. It grew outward from her palm, wider and wider. She clicked her fingers and the newly formed disc floated upwards from her feet, taking them with it.

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  The wall flickered by, up and up. Soon the whole of Porkhaven spread out into the horizon. Its wonky towers stood like a sea of soldiers, popping above the clouds of magic that coated the more dangerous and pungent districts.

  ‘I could have helped you with that levitating disc enchantment you know,’ said Wordsworth with a little shrug. ‘It would have been much more stable.’

  Xenixala rolled her eyes. ‘My way’s faster, we don’t have all day.’

  They were nearly in the clouds. Most men would have probably fainted, but for Xenixala it was exhilarating. The disk came to a halt with a flick of the wrist, right at the top of the tallest tower. Birds fluttered by, the wind whipped at her robes. She shivered and stepped from the floating platform through the open stained glass window.

  ‘How many times do I need to tell you to improve your security?’ said Xenixala as her eyes adjusted to the dim room. Paintings depicting heroic feats covered the walls, mostly concealed by an array of ostentatious furniture, the largest of which was a four-poster bed.

  The King jumped and dropped his goblet. He was only a little man, which he compensated for with bushy whiskers over his thick lips. His reign had clearly taken its toll, turning his hair grey and deepening his eyes. To think Xenixala once considered him handsome. She was glad she’d kept her hands to herself.

  The King pulled up his pantaloons and straightened his crown, the only two items he was wearing. ‘For Mole’s sake Xeni, couldn’t you give me a bit of warning? Damn near killed me!’ He flopped into a plush red chair and breathed out, hand on his chest. ‘It’s been a while. What do you want now? Another set of titles need updating?’

  ‘No no, nothing like that.’

  ‘You’re not here to…to…’ he paused and swallowed ‘...to kill me are you?’

  ‘Lucky for you, you’re more useful to me alive. I’m here on a quest.’

  The King breathed a sigh. ‘Ah, yes, a quest, of course. An awful lot of questing going on right now. Very profitable you know, or at least that’s what Darkius tells me.’

  ‘Darkius?’ Xenixala immediately regretted asking.

  ‘Darkius Doom. My vizier-slash-accountant. My income has nearly doubled since I hired him. Bleeding marvellous! Lord knows how he does it. Strange fellow though, very fond of pink skulls.’

  Xenixala tried to change the subject. Politics was more boring than cart-spotting. ‘I’m here because of a prophecy.’

  ‘Which one?’

  Wordsworth opened his pages and inhaled. Xenixala snapped him shut before he could start singing.

  ‘The one about The Chosen One. Slew a dragon called Grenden, then ran some errands for you?’

  ‘I do send a surprising number of adventurers on errands.’ The King thoughtfully stroked his whiskers. ‘Mainly to make them leave. They’re always storming into my courtroom like they own the place. Snaffling my bread rolls from the kitchen and expecting me not to notice. The dirty rats.’ The King stopped himself. ‘Present company excepted.’

  ‘Get on with it.’

  ‘Ah yes, well I think I know the chap you mean. Can’t remember his name though. I summoned him after he killed that Elder Dragon Grenden about twenty-odd years ago, got him destroying other troublesome beasts for me too. That was big news at the time, smiting the most vicious creature on the continent. I’m not sure you’ve even managed to slay one, have you?’

  ‘Well there aren’t any left now are there?’ Xenixala made a mental note to look for an Elder Dragon on her next adventure.

  ‘My advisors informed me that this was what sparked the little adventuring trend in the first place. Everyone wanted a good taste of that level of Experience. All excellent news for me of course, goblin hordes and dragons are finally a thing of the past! I lost three daughters to those ruddy dragons, shouldn’t have kept them virgin you see. Also, now I get the extra taxes on the newly inherited riches these adventurers find. I can suffer some bread rolls for that!’

  ‘I’m very happy for you.’

  ‘I’ve been able to build three extra towers, three! I’ve got another on its way. It’ll be the tower for my pet crabs...’

  ‘And a magnificent tower it shall be,’ came a voice from the shadows. A figure stepped into the room, a smile on his lips, a cloak draped across his tunic and a pink skull shining out from a pin on his breast. ‘Even if it is an accounting mess.’

  ‘Ah!’ announced the King, ‘This is the man I was telling you about Xeni, Darkius Doom my vizier-slash…’

  ‘Slash-accountant, yeah.’ Xenixala finished.

  ‘A pleasure to meet you,’ said Darkius with a nod. The air grew cold when he spoke. ‘Your highness, if I could have a word?’

  ‘Yes yes, of course. Xeni, what is it you want to know about this Chosen One fellow?’

  ‘His name?’

  ‘I told you I can’t remember.’

  This had all been a total waste of time. Xenixala rubbed her temples. What did she know? ‘Wait,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Are there any parts of the prophecy he hasn’t done yet?’

  Wordsworth burst into song.

  ‘He’d conquer the thieves,

  Of the Bandit King,

  And off his head with a piercing sting.

  ‘The Fen Legion of dead

  Falls at his knees,

  With all his skill, done with ease.

  ‘Great spiders of Wortwood,

  Would he destroy,

  Only a stick need he employ.

  ‘Have you heard the tale,

  of The Ch-’

  Xenixala snapped Wordsworth shut and held him tight.

  The King continued to hum the tune to himself. He stopped and looked up as if he had forgotten they were there. ‘Ah yes, The Bandit King is still causing me a fair sum of grief on the roads. I presume he’s still alive.’ He tapped his chin in thought. ‘The Fen Legion was wiped out years ago and Wortwood has been clear of spiders for a while too, Lord Egglewort won’t stop boasting about it.’

  ‘That’s all I needed to hear.’ Xenixala smiled and leapt out of the window.

  Perhaps a little dramatic, but it pays to keep powerful people in awe of you. She cast a quick fall-damage cantrip as she plummeted and landed gracefully on the streets far below.