“You really think you winged wimps can stop me?” Zall shouted as he tossed another marble-sized explosive into the street. It ignited under a food cart and scattered an assortment of vegetables and fruit. Crowds of people ran to shelter around him as more Celenians swooped down.
“Cease, by order of the Monarch!” One of them howled.
Zall responded with a pillar of fire. Flames crackled and heat rose as the Celenians stepped back. “Come on! I thought you were supposed to be the best of the best here!”
‘Such a pity that Ghantei’s guard has been reduced to this piddling mess,’ Hilaster added. ‘It’s almost as if they’re too scared of having their wings crisped to fight back.’
“Everyone, step aside!” A blonde Celenian commanded as she pushed through the gathered group of guards. Zall snickered. The woman at least looked like she could hold her own. She pulled out a lavish broadsword with dark green edges that matched her wings and eyes. “I’ll take care of this little welp.”
“Just who do you think you’re calling a welp?” Zall spat. His hands blazed a bright blue and his breathing grew heavy. “Let’s see you talk after this one. Evfuouun!”
A barrage of small blue beads erupted from his hand and landed amongst the Celenians. The smell of sulfur and smoke quickly filled the air. The blonde looked down at them and snarled.
“Everyone, brace!” She warned. Her wings wrapped around her as the rest tried to follow suit. The beads glowed brightly and exploded in rapid succession, each one with the force of a cannon blast.
Zall let out a whooping cheer as the Celenians were scattered by the blasts. He turned and ran through the overturned carts toward the castle. There was no one that could stop him. The Celenians, the supposed toughest of the Wingsong, were weaker than many of the other Pyrolites he had faced in battle. The feeling of destroying them was almost euphoric. The castle grew in size as Zall reached the outer courtyard.
“I’m here, Your Majesty!” Zall cackled. “This is what you wanted, right? Give me my tome and we can get this banquet off to a real explosive start!”
A sharp burst of wind blew past Zall, followed by the brunt force of a tackle. Zall and his assailant tumbled along the courtyard. “Who the Hael do you think you are to attack me like that?” Zall yelled.
Familiar white wings bristled and shook open. “The same one that kicked your arse last time, you psychopathic punk,” the Celenian woman said as she stood and flicked her ponytail back. “My name is Qurena, and I’m here to send you back to the dungeons.”
Zall let out a stifled laugh. “Really? You got lucky last time. That won’t happen again. Evfuouun!”
Zall launched the same barrage of explosive beads that managed to get the better of Qurena’s companions, but she was too fast. She ducked and dodged through the beads as they exploded around her, wings tucked tightly to avoid any burns. She jumped forward with a quick flap and put all of her force into a falling strike. Zall barely managed to grab her wrist and reverse the attack. He spun her around and tossed her sideways, but she threw her wings open and landed on both feet.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Qurena taunted. “I don’t think I got lucky last time. I think you’re just weak.”
Zall felt the fiery magic within him blaze white hot and course through every part of his body. There was no way that he was going to let anyone get the better of him, especially the smug Celenian standing before him. He channeled the feeling of the hot cinders in his veins out into a physical form, and a wall of fire swooshed around him.
‘Yes!’ Hilaster exclaimed. ‘We’re close enough to my tome that I can pull some of its power. Lets burn this bird down to ashes!’
A hard metal slammed into the middle of Zall’s spine. He felt his bones crack and the force sent him stumbling forward. The blonde twirled around his left side and smashed the metal sheath of her sword into the front of his legs. Zall fell face-first to the ground.
“I had it, F’jalla!” Qurena shouted out at her fellow Celenian.
“You were taking too long, Qurena! Threats need to be put down instantly. We don’t play around this close to the castle,” F’jalla argued back.
Zall let out an angry howl and propelled himself up with explosions from his hands. He was tired of the games. The wall of fire around him roared back into existence. He raised his fists to the sky and shouted as loud as his voice would allow. “Behfuohilasuun!”
A tower of flame shot down from the sky like a bolt of lightning and swallowed Zall. Fireballs launched from the side like fireworks, burning and melting anything they touched. The tower expanded and the sheer heat made the travertine tiles of the courtyard sizzle underfoot. Qurena and F’jalla covered their faces and leapt back, using their wings to take flight. Inside, Zall felt the fires run over his body, but they didn’t burn him at all. He had become one with the flame. The Pyrolite took aim at the circling Celenians and launched a barrage of fireballs in their direction. Qurena dodged most until one managed to hit her shoulder, while F’jalla took four head on. Both dropped back down to the ground with a ringing clatter of metal armor.
Zall moved toward Qurena and held out his palm. “Dahfuohil,” He muttered as the flames assembled into a blazing red nifo’oti. He raised it over Qurena’s head, gave her a malicious smirk, then swung its talon-like tip down.
Metal clanged against metal as Zall’s sword met the arming sword of another Celenian, this one a young white-haired male. He slid his blade against Zall’s with the shriek of scraping metal. Zall tilted his weapon sideways, latched onto his opponent's sword with the hook and swung up to disarm him. The arming sword flew into the air where Zall caught it and melted the metal down into his palms. The broken bottom of the sword fell.
“That’s it, then? Nothing without your sw-“
The man planted a gauntleted fist firmly into Zall’s nose. A flurry of stars blasted across Zall’s vision. The Celenian followed up with another punch into Zall’s stomach. His concentration broken, the magical flames and weapon dissipated. Zall fell onto his knees, where Qurena offered a swift kick of her own into his ribs. He felt every bit of air shoot out of his lungs and he collapsed backwards. F’jalla limped over and slammed her foot onto his extended arm. Qurena did the same on the opposite side.
“Thanks for the backup, Silban,” Qurena said wearily.
“We could’ve handled it on our own, though,” F’jalla huffed33Please respect copyright.PENANAYZMmC7rKZf
Zall’s head spun from a lack of oxygen, and his body felt broken in more than one place. F’jalla and Qurena kept their weight pressed down on him. He could feel the magical energy within him getting weaker. What was once a ravine of fire was now a mere puddle. Too much used too fast, he assumed. Silban stepped forward and sheathed the remains of his sword.
“Welcome to Prodigium, Tomekeeper.”
______________________________________________________________________
“Qurena, F’jalla, let him up,” Silban ordered. He dusted the soot from his armor and shook his wings clean. The Pyrolite didn’t put up any more of a fight as they lifted him up.
“The only reason you’re alive is because the Monarch deems it so,” Silban told the attacker. He pressed his finger into the Tomekeeper’s chest and watched as he winced in pain. “Pull another stunt like that, and I’ll put you down. Do you understand?”
The Pyrolite let out a singular chuckle, followed by a shuddering breath. “Your biggest mistake is letting me live. I took on the Monarch’s best, without a tome, and beat most of you with ease. I’ll remember that. Next time, it won’t be so easy to stop me. Do you understand?”
Silban wanted to punch the Pyrolite again, but knew the Monarch wouldn’t approve of his guests arriving at their celebratory banquet unconscious or beaten. The situation with the other two Tomekeepers that made a big scene down by the harbor district was already enough to deal with, and he hoped the three of them would be the only problems that needed to be corrected for the rest of the day. He rubbed his temple.
“Qurena, please escort the Tomekeeper inside.”
“With pleasure,” She said and pulled both of the Pyrolite’s arms behind him. He cursed at her, and she pushed him toward the castle. “Come on, get to walking.”
Silban turned to F’jalla and noticed the scorch marks on her armor. “Where is your charge?”
“I had to leave her behind in order to help with the issue at hand,” She answered. “He attacked our carriage.”
“I understand. Go ahead and retrieve her. You can fly her back at this point, if it makes it easier.”
“Of course,” F’jalla responded and launched into the sky. The ashes of the once-vibrant flowers scattered to the winds. Silban reflected on the situation. Once the Monarch was notified of the two Tomekeepers brought in from the harbor, he demanded preparations for the banquet to be put into place immediately. “If there are two here already, the others must be here as well,” Monarch Mivano had suggested.
As a result, Silban himself had spent most of the morning corralling cooks, dealing with the decorators, and scrutinizing security. Everything had to be flawless, yet the Tomekeepers so far seemed intent on making it anything but. He hoped for better as they progressed through the rest of the day, for the sake of everyone involved. The fear that not all of the Tomekeepers would be present also gnawed at his subconscious.
F’jalla dropped back down in front of him with her Tomekeeper frozen in terror against her armor. F’jalla peeled her off and set her down. The woman tousled her curls, pressed down her olive vest, and pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I fail to see the logic behind flying me over here and causing unwarranted stress as opposed to letting me walk the remaining three-hundred-and-twenty-nine meters of my own accord and comfort,” She complained.
F’jalla shrugged. “We got here faster and it was more fun.”
“For one of us,” the woman sneered.
“Tomekeeper,” Silban interrupted in the honeyed tone he had practiced for weeks. “Welcome to Prodigium! May I ask who I have the pleasure of greeting today?”
“Ramji. Ramji Wrine,” She stated. “Tomekeeper of Shoroux.”
Suddenly, the comment she uttered toward F’jalla made more sense in Silban’s mind. According to his research, Shoroux had always favored thinkers and innovators in their selection, a group Ramji and her famous father seemed to fit into well. “We’re happy to host you and Shoroux, Ms. Wrine. F’jalla will accompany you to your quarters and help you prepare for tonight.”
Ramji thanked him and followed F’jalla into the castle proper. Silban looked out past the courtyard’s edge in anxious anticipation. The Monarch expected eleven Tomekeepers, save for Reveticus, who was once again away in defense of the city. Only four had arrived, and Silban knew night would set in soon. He contemplated sending out more of the castle troops to comb the city in the event the remaining Tomekeepers were lost. As if Ghantei herself had heard him, Coltiel swooped down from the edge of the city wall.
“Silban Awn! Just the man I was looking for,” Coltiel exclaimed joyfully as he drifted to the courtyard. He leaned heavily to the right side and his movement looked uncomfortable. Silban wondered if Coltiel was fighting back pain to avoid questions about whether or not he could continue in his duties. He felt bad for Coltiel. Years in service of the Monarch and his family, yet everything he built could be ripped away at a moment’s notice due to an injury. It seemed unfair.
“I came across a group of Tomekeepers in Kephram’s,” Coltiel informed him. “I’ve brought with me Princess Yonni Sxem of the Anqualai, Tomekeeper of Drinex; Utic Delj of the Clawgraves, Tomekeeper of Verna; I’el Rivini of the Phreeton, Tomekeeper of Noli; and Kliev Rorn of the Wojlidoj, Tomekeeper of Wogiwoj.”
“Yonni, Utic, I’el and Kliev,” Silban repeated as he committed the names to memory.
Coltiel hesitated. “And Tuvhe Vull of the Devement, Tomekeeper of Eslen.”
“The Betrayer,” Silban hissed. He felt the hairs on his neck stand at the mention. Eslen’s Tomekeeper was probably worse than the other three troublemakers combined.
“Yes, he was the one that initially approached me,” Coltiel explained. “I’ve been keeping an eye on him since the start. The Tomekeepers are assembled atop the wall, waiting to be brought down.”
“Great work, Coltiel,” Silban praised. “Continue keeping an eye on the Betrayer, but bring them down through the pathway that leads through the back keep. Have the staff direct them toward their quarters. I’ll meet with everyone before the banquet begins.”
“Right away,” Coltiel said. He took off back toward the wall’s edge with a few extra flaps. Silban let out a heavy sigh of relief. Nine Tomekeepers were accounted for, which meant that the Banquet would at least be well attended. The sun began to drift behind a set of clouds, casting the castle in a shroud of gray. Silban sat in his usual spot and wished for the remaining two Tomekeepers to arrive.
An hour passed, then another. As the sun set past the rooftops of Prodigium, Silban knew that he had to get back to the castle and finish out his preparations. The rest of the Tomekeepers needed to be visited as well. So much was still left to do, even though the triplet moons had replaced the sun. Silban stood and stared at the set of sparkling stars that speckled the sky above him. He reached up and questioned if he could ever fly high enough to touch them.
“Hey, feather duster!” a voice hollered at him from the end of the courtyard. Two men approached, covered in red clay and mud. One of them, dressed in Asceniate garb with the most reprehensible smugness Silban had ever seen, waved. “Sorry to interrupt your daydream. Do you think you could make yourself useful and summon the welcome wagon?”
Silban stepped forward and crossed his arms. “May I ask who you think you are to demand that of me?”
The Asceniate pointed his thumbs to his chest. “It’s your lucky day, you golden garbage can. You’ve been blessed with the presence of Qio Lod, Tomekeeper of Zhonitas! You’d do best to remember my name. You can share the story of how great it was to meet me with anyone you want.”
Silban rolled his eyes. Another troublemaking Tomekeeper, and an arrogant one at that. It felt like something in the universe wanted him to suffer a little bit. The man next to Qio was calm and quiet, almost serene, a far cry from the likes of his travel companion.
“Who are you?” Silban asked him.
“I’m Irada Holst,” He answered. “I’m the Tomekeeper of Heivara.”
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