The city of Panxian sprawled like a massive bacterium anchored to a stone promontory on the shores of the Eilna Sea. From a distance, one could see crowds teeming on the marble stairways of the vertical metropolis.

  "What a strange feeling to see so much life after spending months in that orc-infested desert," thought Ludan as he gripped the reins of his dark horse, which seemed as eager as he was to traverse the road leading to the city, surrounded by fields of wheat and rice.

  Ahead of him, Sarric guided the enormous elk with feigned composure, though the time he had spent with his partner told the elf that Sarric was just as eager to roam the streets of the massive city—the third largest in Anen and its main port.

  He knew Sarric wanted to lose himself in its markets, to gaze upon beautiful women—noblewomen and peasants alike—walking the streets in light garments due to the heat.

  After a couple of hours, the city swallowed them. They wandered aimlessly through the markets, observing the houses and mid-sized buildings that housed smithies, butcher shops, herbalists, brothels, and all manner of businesses crammed like mollusks between the cobblestone streets.

  Before long, however, they reached the main castle, standing like a majestic being of white marble and towers of the same hue right on the coast, beside the harbor.

  —We’d best hurry. The meeting will be soon.

  They left the horse and elk at a stable and continued on foot to the castle walls, where royal guards clad in white armor and wielding halberds taller than themselves barred their way.

  —No visitors today—one of them said, eyeing them as if they were little more than vermin trying to climb his armor.

  "And we haven’t even gone a week without bathing," Ludan thought, recalling the bath he’d taken in Xelax a few days prior after being tended to by his "friends." "I can’t imagine the treatment we’d get if they saw us fresh out of the desert."

  —We have an appointment with Lord Lororin, my lord.

  At the name, the guard’s eyes widened like saucers, but he quickly regained his composure and resumed his disdainful glare.

  —Wait here a moment.

  After a long while, they were finally permitted entry and had to climb an endless series of white stairs adorned with small vines along the edges.

  When they reached the top, Ludan decided the effort had been worth it. They arrived at a terrace filled with tables, where servants bustled about, attending to the elegant diners who undoubtedly belonged to the city’s nobility.

  Sarric strode toward the far end, where an old man in a white robe and a matching scepter awaited them at a table, calmly smoking a snail-shaped wooden pipe.

  —My dear friends!—the man said, rising with outstretched arms as his long white beard swayed— I thought you wouldn’t come to enjoy this beautiful day with me. Please, sit.

  After the formalities and being served frothy butterbeer by the servants, the old man rambled on as if he hadn’t spoken to anyone in years, while the shimmer of the evening sea reflected in his eyes.

  —Isn’t it magnificent?—he asked, gesturing toward the bay, crowded with ships of all sizes—from small fishing boats and skiffs to three-decked galleons sailing the turquoise waters.—To hell with Dalux—this should be the kingdom’s capital. If the emperor had an ounce of sense, he’d have moved the capital here long ago instead of keeping it by that smoldering lake so far from the sea.

  —I’ll admit it’s impressive—Sarric said after a moment’s thought.—But the capital is three times larger and sits at a strategic point in the heart of the country.

  —Bah, what’s so strategic about three walls in the middle of a dark valley?—the old man muttered between puffs.—Of course, you’re a vampire—darkness suits you best. I’m surprised you haven’t learned to appreciate the sun’s beauty, let alone the sea, since I gave you the anti-curse orb.

  —Thanks to your gift, my lord, I’ve come to admire the sun... but the sea, you know what would happen if I took a dip.

  —True, true... best you stay clear. But you haven’t told me of your adventure in the Worm Desert. How was the orc hunt?

  Ludan kept sipping his frothy beer while his companion answered the strange mage who had them enjoying one of the kingdom’s finest views.

  —Not bad, my lord. We killed as many high orcs as we could... until they caught wind of the threat and started roaming in ever-larger packs, forcing us to flee. We’ll wait another harvest quarter and return once they’ve let their guard down.

  —A noble task, exterminating those despicable creatures... but I fear we can leave those two-legged pigs to eager novices. The kingdom now needs true warriors. Warriors of your caliber.

  "Well, things just got interesting."

  —What in the blazes are you talking about, Maege Lororin? You know we’re independent. We don’t like guilds, much less armies. My elven companion and I aren’t fond of taking orders.

  The old man took a few puffs from his pipe, sighing as if from the depths of his soul. Then he continued:

  —My boy, sooner or later, all men must realize there will always be someone above us to serve, no matter our trade... but in this case, it’s the kingdom itself.

  —What trouble could the mighty Aneitan Empire possibly have that it can’t solve without a pair of mercenaries on the brink of retirement, my lord?

  —A single man can turn the tide of war. Especially if that man is a vampire... or a refined elf.

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  —Your words flatter us, Maege, and though I doubt you’ll convince us, you might as well tell us why you want us involved in your... enterprise.

  —It’s not my enterprise, son. It’s the kingdom’s—the one that saw your birth and has given you so much. This is about the emperor himself.— The old man lowered his voice. He made to continue, but suddenly, like a dog sensing an intruder, he fell silent and rose from his chair, staring at the horizon, at the endless sea.

  —What’s wrong, my lord?—the vampire asked, standing beside him.

  Ludan, too, sensed danger and set down his beer. Something was approaching. Then, sharpening his keen nocturnal elf vision, he spotted winged creatures flying toward the city in the distance.

  "Damn it, harpies."

  He noticed them long before the human archers manning the castle’s battlements and towers, long before the startled nobles on the terrace, who fled in terror into the fortress as the harpies descended upon them with razor-sharp claws and shrieks that shattered reason.

  —Do you have ranged weapons?!—the old man asked, ducking behind a table strategically after obliterating a couple of beasts with bolts from his scepter.

  —Yes!—the vampire replied.— Ludan, hand me the crossbow!

  The elf hadn’t used his double-shot crossbow in months—it hadn’t been much use against the burly desert orcs—but here, against flying but lightly armored foes like harpies, it was perfect.

  —Very well, gentlemen! The game now is to keep me alive until I prepare my ultimate ability. Kill anything that comes near.

  The next quarter-hour passed like a century for Ludan as he fired and took cover behind a table to reload. Luckily, the years hadn’t dulled his aim, and he managed to strike down as many enemies as he could, sinking bolts into their half-naked bodies covered in dark plumage.

  "What ugly creatures," was all he could think as the open-air dining area filled with their corpses.

  His aim improved with each passing minute, but the sheer number of harpies and archers mounted on giant eagles began to darken the sky like nightfall.

  —Hold fast, my warriors! It’s almost ready!—the old man shouted, his raised scepter glowing brighter by the second.

  One of the flying monstrosities—a woman-shaped horror—nearly swooped down on the old man, swift as the wind, but Sarric stepped between them, his long sword flashing. After a brief clash, he lopped off her head with a single stroke while Ludan kept firing desperately, holding the other monsters at bay.

  —Just a little longer!

  Then, just as the elf thought all was lost against the overwhelming tide of enemies, everything changed in an instant.

  The old man, who until then had seemed like an oak twisted by age, rose a few feet above the marble terrace floor, his cloak billowing in the wind. His eyes, once gray as twilight, now blazed wide, and from the crystal atop his scepter erupted brilliant bolts that rained down on the harpies like acid.

  —Keep firing!—the old man commanded in a guttural voice, nothing like the paternal tone he’d used earlier.— This isn’t over yet!

  Despite his words, the scepter’s rays told a different story. Each spell struck the harpies, paralyzing them instantly, making them easy prey for the arrows raining from the towers and battlements.

  Ludan, who had nearly dropped his crossbow to hide under an overturned table in the heat of battle, now noticed things were getting easier as the old man hurled bolts of energy with relentless fury.

  Before long, the harpies realized the attack was folly and retreated, even as arrows and the old man’s rays continued to thin their ranks like rodents.

  Once certain the battle was over, Maege Lororin returned to normal and slumped against Sarric’s broad shoulder, exhausted. Smoke curled from the scepter’s crystal after countless discharges.

  —By all the gods... that was close—the old man gasped between sobs.

  —That was close? You just saved our hides, you old rogue.

  —Yes, but I’ve drained my mana for months... I just hope you’ll join our cause now. Then it’ll have been worth it.

  Sarric’s eyes betrayed disbelief at the old man’s words, still pushing alliances after such a sudden assault.

  —You’re still on about that, my lord? You need an herbalist’s chamber, and fast. You’re as pale as an undead.

  —No... there’ll be time for that later. But I fear our kingdom is racing against time... we must act swiftly.

  Sarric sighed as he propped the old man into a chair Ludan had righted.

  —Very well, my lord. My family owes you many favors. Consider this one repaid. We’ll meet your friends, and then we’ll consider joining your cause... but not before an arch-healer looks you over.

  The old man sighed but pressed on:

  —Thank you, my boy. I know you won’t regret siding with the right cause—the kingdom’s.

  —Yes, yes, and Emperor Valtorius’s—the vampire said, familiar with the spiel.

  —No—the archmage’s voice was barely a whisper.— The emperor is our greatest enemy. Our primary goal now is to overthrow him.

  ****

  Deep within the Central Pyramid, in the heart of Dalux, the emperor and his niece stood before the table at the crypt’s center, dimly lit by torchlight.

  Behind the table, the rodent-faced mage grinned as he studied the dragon egg, its ruby-like gems casting a bloody glow across the crypt.

  —Magic is a wondrous thing, Your Imperial Excellency—the man said, his crimson cloak fluttering as he paced eagerly around the relic.

  —Wondrous, and costly.

  —All things of true worth are, Your Excellency. But once you see this magnificent dragon soaring the skies, ready to follow you to the world’s end, you’ll forget every drop of spent mana.

  The emperor, restless, circled the egg, the golden plates of his armor clinking softly. Jontana could almost read his thoughts—countless possible futures dancing in her uncle’s mind.

  "Which one serves us best, my lord?"

  The sorceress masked her unease by staring at the egg, which within hours would become a winged monster capable of reducing a city to ash in minutes.

  —Could the spell fail, mage? If it does, you know I’ll have no choice but to lock you in a dungeon for eternity.

  —Of course not, my lord. With the mana you’ve provided, I’ll transform this gleaming object into the solution to all your troubles—the little man said with a sly grin. It was astounding that such a diminutive being could wield power over time’s currents, yet there he stood before the world’s mightiest man, oozing confidence.— By sunrise tomorrow, the imperial capital will have a dragon—steadfast and obedient to your will, Your Majesty.

  The emperor exhaled. Jontana knew he trusted Xelax’s words, but the sheer volume of invested mana weighed on him.

  —I don’t doubt your power to warp fate and make this dragon grow in a day. But how do you ensure it obeys me?

  The mage smiled, as if he’d been waiting for that question.

  —That’s what makes our order so effective, Your Imperial Lordship—he said, his mismatched eyes fixed on the egg, already seeing its future form.— Many mages can alter time—an illusion to mortals in the end—but only our order, born in Anen’s deepest heart, can plant the subtle seeds of submission, even in mindless beasts like dragons. My spells will forge memories and commands in its mind, letting you control it like your most loyal soldier.

  "If that’s true, it’s a wonder this two-legged rat isn’t emperor, with us as his slaves."

  The emperor stood silent for a long moment. Even now, he could still back out—return the mana to the Imperial Bank and wage war the old-fashioned way. But Jontana saw the resolve harden in his eyes.

  —Very well, mage. Begin the ritual. The future of the kingdom and empire rests in your hands. Do not fail us.

  —Of course not, Majesty. I won’t disappoint. For now, leave me alone in the crypt and ensure no one interrupts the ritual tonight—or things could go wrong.

  Jontana and the emperor left the mage in the crypt with the egg and countless vials of blue mana lining the walls. That little rat of a man would drink every last drop... and the gods alone knew how he’d transform that helpless object into a world-shaking dragon.

  Valtorius and Jontana took posts outside the crypt doors, where His Imperial Majesty himself would ensure no one entered... no one ruined his investment.

  "Not his investment—the empire’s."

  The emperor had played his final card. It could save them—or doom them all. Jontana’s heart pounded. By morning, after a night of spells and strange sorcery, they’d know if it had been worth it.