4. The Palace of Nikros

Mitaria's throne room! The mouse felt faint at the thought of it, and butterflies flew about performing aerial acrobatics inside of his stomach.

He risked a glance upward. The room was enormous. It looked as if half of his village could have fit inside with plenty of space to spare.

The walls were covered in fine tapestries, suits of armour, and dozens, hundreds, thousands of scrolls. The room was tall, at least four times Briole's noteworthy height, and a balcony filled with well-dressed courtiers wrapped around the room above it all.

The ceiling was a fresco depicting S halyon and Selassei in their traditional displays of benevolence. Litam didn't care much for it. Toward one of the distant walls was a sole dais, covered in gold and silver and inlaid with hundreds of different gems, red silk cushions on its seat and back. Sitting in it was the king.

He was a small beast. The power he held was evident by his robes, his crown and sceptre, and even (as Litam would discover shortly) his tone of voice. He was not, however, kingly in his physical appearance, something he could not change without using a painful magical spell. A streak of unkempt white fur ran down his tar-black coat, from the tip of his tail to the spot between his two glimmering red eyes, just above his constantly twitching nose.

The king was a skunk.

Litam already knew this. The Mitarian royals had always been skunks. Nevertheless, it was impossible not to grin just a little after seeing such an unlikely monarch in person.

Rise and address your sovereign, King Nikros the Third! shouted a guard, without turning to address the group. Litam stood and walked slowly toward the king, who was scowling already.

Spit it out, mouse. I have a kingdom to run, and I don't need you to waste my time gawking! snarled the king, his voice direct and commanding.

We come to warn you, Your Majesty, of an army that has invaded this nation and destroyed at least two villages. It would appear that they wish to… That is, they are trying to… Uh… Litam thought for a moment, trying to remember what the prophecies said Kveilaz would try to do. Of course, he had never cared to pay attention during his religious lessons, and so he came up with nothing.

Briole patted Litam on the shoulder and stepped forward.

Most Proficient Majesty, he offered, please forgive my fellow traveller. His mind is weary for he has overused it in his journey here. Briole began reciting his story, with Koshos providing that to which the squirrel had not born witness—apparently, both felt uneasy, however, as neither mentioned the Unholy Stone carried by Litam. The mouse, instead of contributing, merely tried to figure out if he had been insulted. He smartly decided to drop the issue and kept his mouth shut through the proceedings. When his two companions finished, the king looked up with a scowl.

Do you see that garbage above you? It was painted before this fortress was built, and shipped here in pieces when the construction of this throne room began. That was centuries ago, in the reigns of my milksop forefathers. It's still there because removing it would waste money and keep me from my duties. Unless you three share one brain, I can't imagine how you came up with that mind-numbingly stupid story. Kveilaz. Letimpra. Hah! Petty nonsense! he spat, anger and malice bubbling forth through his words. The courtiers above all laughed at the story, but a nervous air was present in each voice. Nikros flicked his wrist disgustedly and the dumbstruck group was herded out of the throne room.

As soon as they were safely out of sight, a shadow moved across the wall toward the king.

You told me there were no survivors, the skunk said, disappointed.

None of any consequence, Your Majesty; you may dispose of these ones as you wish.

You must listen! We speak the truth! Please, listen, the kingdom depends on it! protested Briole. The guard ignored his shouting, and locked the series of iron-barred doors on his way out.

Litam, Koshos and Briole had been relieved of their nobler clothing and given back their peasant garb. They were lucky to get anything back at all. Litam found, though he didn't mention it in earshot of the guards, the Unholy Stone still tucked in his boot.

It's no use. The jailers here are under a spell to ensure they don't take pity on prisoners like us, came a quiet, sombre, lightly accented voice from behind them.

A beast, the speaker assumedly, crawled out from the shadowy corner of the cell. Despite the movement into the area illuminated by torchlight, Litam still couldn't see well enough to describe her. He could only make out her form well enough to know she was a mouse, or something similar.

Don't bother asking. I know because I was the one who cast it, fool that I am. The king used me as a test. My name is Lanyur, and I was once the king's Spellweaver.

Telling us this isn't — Litam started.

— a good way to gain your trust, cut in the mouse girl. Yes, I know. But a prison without even a wilde for companionship is a tiring place to live in. If you intend to thank me with clenched fists, at least that is something. But I see you have no such plans.

That depends on — Koshos tried.

— why I did it, Lanyur sighed and looked back and forth between Briole, Koshos and Litam. Would you disobey your king? I was young, not yet grown but no longer just a kit. Since I first learned to speak, I have been able to foresee the future. I learned to focus my energies, to cast simple spells: make a cup float, little things like that.

My family saw in me something I myself did not see. They took me to an abbey built in the name of Selassei, so I would hone my skills for the betterment of my kinsfolk. But the abbot at once knew that I was not just a seer, and he sent for an audience with King Nikros' father, Atiell the Vagabond.

Atiell was pleased with me, and asked me to stay as part of his council, my official title being the Royal Spellweaver. I accepted, of course— this was indeed a great honour! His Majesty was good and kind, like all of his line before him. He gave me quarters that rivalled those of his son, the prince, and if I ever wished for anything, it was mine (not that I ever exercised this privilege! I was still as timid as any other field mouse.)

But the king, while strong of conscience, was weak of form. He was old, his sight failing, his joints aching. The prince saw this, and decided to help the king toward the inevitable. He never told of this, but it would be impossible for me to miss such a scar on a beast's aura. He poisoned his father, and blamed the death on his age. I think he knew that I had found out his secret, but he never mentioned it to me.

Something foul had brought him to do this and more, and I fear it is still influencing him today. He took the throne and ordered the palace to be heavily fortified. He secretly kidnapped beasts and gave them as offerings to Kveilaz.

To be sure they would not be saved, he ordered me to enchant the guards. I never even considered defying him, because you don't deny your king. I cast the spell, and I was the beast he tested it on. I have yet to find a way to break free of it—I made the spell too powerful.

I have been here ever since, six summers if I have kept good track. Lanyur crossed her arms and looked at each beast's face in turn.

That's a… an interesting story… Litam blinked. He had somehow gotten lost in it, somehow felt as if he had been there to experience it in spite of its brevity. But why didn't—no, don't interrupt me, that's very annoying—why couldn't you escape?

My spell suppresses magic from being worked in its domain, she replied simply. I can still foresee briefly, a few seconds or minutes, but that's all.

Well, Briole said, standing up and brushing off his trousers, I don't think I'd like to stay here while the World goes to pieces. I've half a mind to just walk right out of here.

Lanyur shook her head patiently. So do I, squirrel, but it's not that simple. You'll learn that if you're here long enough.

But it is that simple, he replied. He walked the few steps to the cell door and shook it: made of solid iron, it clattered but wouldn't budge. This door is strong, but the guards have obviously never met a raccoon. I have known several, and I know what they can do.

Ten minutes, a bruised shoulder, two unconscious guards and a shocked seer later, the door swung on a tilt, half-pulled from its hinges. Lanyur strode out to the corridor.

How did you do that, Koshos? she asked. That door was built from solid iron, but you went through it like it was paper!

Ve raccoons have a gift vith locks—even if ve do not have the key, ve vill get through them. Nothing short of magic can hold us.

Lanyur nodded. My spell is in place throughout the castle, so we must move quickly to keep from being seen. Once we are outside, I will be able to use magic again. Follow me; I know my way around these hallowed halls quite well. She paused. Or at least, I used to… Come on!

They navigated the passageways without any problems. Apart from a few changes in décor, the castle remained exactly the same as it had been when Lanyur was a resident instead of a prisoner.

How, huffed Briole, do we plan to get outside the castle?

Lanyur explained quickly, looking down the hall nervously instead of facing the squirrel. As I said, I'll work magic once we're in the open air; I'll cast an invisibility spell. We can just wait for a watchman to leave the castle, and then walk right out with him. Nobody will see a thing out of the ordinary, just a guard escorting some visitors out, if anything at all.

Ingenious, Briole breathed.

Simple, retorted Lanyur.

Simply ingenious.

Lanyur smiled, but didn't let him see it. We can't waste any more time, she said. She started off again, turned a corner, and almost slammed into a large armoured beast.

Oh, hey, what't'we have he'e? Looks like a li'l expedidition by th'new pris'ners! I think th' king'll want t'hea' 'bout this, eh? the knight said, his thick accent grating on the ears. He looked to several other equally menacing beasts, all of whom nodded and mmhmmed in agreement. Vicious, toothy grins spread across their faces.

The mouse jumped and bolted back around the corner, right into another knight, who had snuck up behind them. He backhanded her with his gauntleted fist and she slumped down, half-conscious, a trickle of blood on her face. Briole caught her, glaring up at the beast, daring him to move but not saying a word. The knight laughed a belly laugh and hauled Lanyur up by her nape.

Now, said another knight with scimitar raised, would you like to come with us or would you prefer to give us a bit of entertainment first?

Litam, seeing the curved blade glint in the light, let his ears droop in dismay.

The knights escorted the four travellers through a maze of passageways, toward (Litam assumed) the throne room or another dungeon. He didn't put up a struggle, as it would have been futile.

They turned another corner and entered a long, windowless hall, its floor sloping downward away from them. Something in Litam's mind told him they were headed to another dungeon, or to something far worse. Lanyur, who had regained some of her composure, whispered something into Briole's ear and he covertly passed the message to Koshos, who then told Litam.

Vhere Lanyur runs, follow.

Koshos collapsed and groaned, her eyes wide open and unfocused. Briole stooped to help her, looking at the knights gravely.

Wha's wrong wi' this'n? asked the leader of the knights, annoyed. He crouched down to get a closer look. Dun' wan' t' b'ex'cyuted so she takin' care o' it fo' he'self?

Actually, Briole said matter-of-factly, she's throwing a fit as a distraction, so I can do this.

He flicked his tail in the knight's eyes, momentarily blinding him, and hit the brute's helmet hard with his flattened palm, rattling his brain and knocking him out cold.

Koshos grabbed the unconscious chevalier's sword, a scimitar with a wicked curve. She made two untrained stabs at one of the other knights, and he fell to the ground as blood pooled from his neck where his armour was weak.

The rest of the knights immediately reached for their own scimitars, only to find that they were gone. Lanyur eyed them, a pale aura shining off her, an after effect of her casting a magic spell. They looked at her briefly before backing away and then running off.

Lanyur darted the other way and the fugitives followed close behind. She led them up stairs, ramps and ladders, not bothering to be stealthy anymore.

Then they were out, onto the roof, in plain view of numerous guards and archers. Now in the light of the sun, Lanyur cast a spell and became unseen to them. Unfortunately, one of the escort knights picked that moment to find them, and Lanyur's efforts didn't affect his sight: some stronger magic was aiding him.

Fools! Capture those beasts!

The ramparts became a sea of mayhem, with the knight barking orders to and fro, the guards swinging blindly at the air, and the archers firing randomly into the sky. Several bowmen fell, struck by the arrows or crossbow bolts of their fellow soldiers. Litam and company slipped through the fray, climbing up to an open terrace at the top of one of the spires.

There, curled up in a giant straw nest and gnawing on a chunk of what was hopefully just wilde meat, was a griffin. It was huge, with bright white feathered wings sprouting out of its—no, his—sleek tawny body.

His head was that of a hunter bird's, but his coat transmuted from feathers to rough, bristly fur halfway down his body, marking the end of the avian and the start of the feline.

He looked up at the visitors and sniffed the air. He seemed to recognize Lanyur, and went back to his food.

The mouse slowly moved to the wilde and clicked her tongue quietly. She pet the griffin softly and cooed at him. As she circled his nest, she began to glow faintly, a magical aura collecting around her as she transmitted her intentions to the great animal. He cawed and she made a quick upward motion with her paw. The griffin stood up, yawned, and stretched. He then lowered a wing to form a sort of ramp.

Hurry up and climb aboard! Lanyur said to the others, using the wilde's feathers as if they were the rungs of a ladder and taking his mane in her paws.

Briole, Koshos and Litam got on in that order. The griffin had no trouble bearing their weight. Lanyur pulled his mane and he started to take off.

Halt! shouted a pikeman who had caught up to them. I know you're there! I know!

Lanyur pulled the griffin's mane harder, and he started to speed up his ascent. From below, the pikeman called out and archers began firing at the soaring creature.

He screeched as an arrow pierced his wing, and he shot straight up out of range. His passengers held onto fur and feather for dear life. Lanyur did her best to regain control, but a crossbow bolt—able to fly farther than an arrow—grazed his wing and he kept rising.

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