The Sorcerer and the Witch-King's Heir

No one tried to stop him as he rode into the city of the Witch-Kings. The palace gates were guarded by soldiers in black and gold livery and they laughed and shouted a welcome when they saw him. “Sorcerer!” said the older one. “Go on boy, run and let the rich folk know there's another one.” Ilyan dismounted, alarmed by this greeting. “You were expecting me?” “Of course!” the soldier said. “You are our honored guest! Didn't you get the invitation?” “The invite...no, no, I've received no word from your king. Invitation to what?” “All sorcerers have been invited to become a part of the great court of our noble Witch-King, Drumion IV!” “I thought there was no Witch-King,” Ilyan said, confused. “Some argument about succession?” “That's all over now. The coronation is to be held in six weeks! King Drumion wants all magic practitioners to know that they are welcome in his realm! As a practitioner himself, he values your skills and expertise most highly! Many others of your kind are here already! I am sure you are looking forward to seeing them. Here, here, boy! Take the noble sorcerer's horse. I will escort you in myself. What is your name, my lord?” “Ilyan,” Ilyan said. “Sorcerer of Raven's Gate. “Lord Ilyan,” the guard bellowed. “Welcome to Stalingaard!” ** Ilyan had never been so relieved in his life as he was when he laid eyes on Lady Armina, Sorceress of High Wind Plains. “You're alright,” he said, embracing her. “All of you? And you've been here the whole time?” “Welcome, Ilyan,” she said, laughing as she hugged him back. “Yes, we're fine. I'm glad to see you too.” “You could have written,” Ilyan said. “You disappeared! You and Estrel, and Voicha...I haven't heard from you in months. Some have been missing for years. We thought something terrible had happened.” “What, like we were being lured here to our deaths?” she teased. “Well...yes,” he said, bewildered. “What are you all doing here? Surely King Drumion can't need that many advisors. And Sakara has always been sorcerer to this country. Why the disappearing act?” “In due time,” Armina said, tucking his hand through her arm and giving him a pat. “King Drumion is doing great things here. I am so excited to share them with you, but we have to get through the welcome dinner first! It's all very secretive, you understand.” She winked. He frowned. “We've never kept secrets, sister.” “Now, now, don't be a tease. You'll spoil the surprise!” She led him into the grand banquet hall. Ilyan felt dizzy with relief at the sight of them all. Every single one of the sorcerers who had gone missing over the years was here, alive and laughing, clinking silver goblets and exchanging the gossip of the day. Every one greeted him warmly, bidding him welcome and promising an explanation soon. By the time the king arrived, Ilyan felt almost giddy with excitement. Whatever was important enough to cause the sorcerers to raise such alarm in the rest of the world, it must be very important indeed. Was this some new breakthrough in magical abilities? Were they going to reshape reality or achieve the ability to travel to other realms? Had they been visited by gods or fairies? His imagination ran wild as he ran through every significant metaphysical debate he'd had in the last two centuries. King Drumion's entrance was announced with trumpets. The court fell silent and stood to their feet as he processed to the high-backed chair placed at the center of the table. Looking at him, Ilyan felt a shiver run down his spine. The new king was young, barely out of his teens, and he dressed in heavy red velvet that fell to the floor and pooled around his feet. He lifted a heavy goblet and hoisted it into the air. “My friends!” he cried. The sorcerers cheered. Ilyan did not join them. There was something he was forgetting, some nagging feeling at the back of his brain...something important. Life or death important. “I am so glad to hear that we have a new guest of honor,” the king continued, his voice boyish and light. “Lord Ilyan, welcome to Stalingaard!” “Welcome!” shouted the entire party, their voice rolling over him like thunder. Ilyan heard screams. Looking around, it seemed as if every face was transfixed in a mask of horror and pain. He could taste blood. He could hear nothing but screaming. He stared, breathing shallow and fast. He heard someone calling his name. “Ilyan,” Armina was saying, patting his arm. “Ilyan, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost.” The world rushed back in, light and gold and laughter replacing whatever horrible vision had overtaken him. “Yes, I'm sorry. I just spaced out there for a moment.” He smiled, and laughed at himself, glancing around to reassure everyone. “Fatigue from the journey, I imagine.” “We shall see to it you are well rested before tomorrow's grand event,” King Drumion said generously. “Now, to feasting!” Ilyan smiled and cheered with the rest, but in his memory he could still hear screams.