Seasons in the Abyss (Book 4 EptaBorromean Realms)

Chapter 4.17

"Your Majesty!" A young man ran through the halls and courtyards of Hebder. His hair was plastered to his head, and his face was flushed from exertion. He had been dispatched from his post in the underdark to deliver the urgent message to the queen.

Qyseil heard the commotion echoing through the halls, and waited on the great throne. It had been too quiet for too long, but she never let her guard down. She had known all along that the peace of the realms would come to an end, and it seemed that time was sooner than later.

"Your Majesty!" The young messenger shouted as he burst into the room with three guards hot on his heels.

"Your Majesty! I have an urgent message!" He shouted as he dropped to his knees before Qyseil's feet, chest heaving from exertion.

"Take a moment to catch your breath," she stated calmly, waving the cautious guards to step back.

Taking a deep staggering breath, the young man tried to calm down. When he could feel the tightness in his chest relax, he looked up to the monarch. "Your Majesty, the Nephilim have called for our aid!" The attendant declared.

"Why have the Nephilim called?" She asked, a small smirk belying what she knew would be the response.

"The demons. They have begun to move through the underdark. They are slaughtering every soul of opposition in their path!" The attendant informed her, his heart still racing.

"When were you dispatched to inform me?" Qyseil asked, standing from her throne and moving toward the young man.

"Two days ago. I flew through the night without stopping. I'm sorry I could not get here sooner," he apologized, bowing at her feet as she stopped beside him.

"Come," she commanded softly, taking confident strides toward her private quarters.

The young man scurried to his feet and fell in step behind her, her personal guards flanking him on either side as the group moved through the palace.

"How many legions have they sent?" She asked.

"All of them!"

Qyseil stopped in her tracks, and turned to look at the messenger. "What do you mean by all of them?" She asked, eyes squinting slightly.

"The ten princes each lead three to four legions, your majesty. The whole of hell and limbo are moving through the realms," he replied.

Qyseil suddenly giggled, causing those around her to flinch. "Is that so? Finally," she sighed, smiling. "Notify the High Priestess and request the Ferryman. We will meet Mammon's forces in the underdark and across the seven realms. Signal our people that war is upon us."

"Yes!" The dragon guards responded in unison

"We must protect and support the mortals who lack the ability to defend themselves. Do whatever it takes to keep them from dying. Take the talismans and move them to Hebder, Hyreath or the Troupe. These are the few places the demons cannot breach." She directed before turning to continue moving.

The quiet of the island was suddenly interrupted by the loud bellowing wail of a horn. Every man and woman of fighting age smiled at its call. They had trained and waited for this day their entire lives. Within an hour, mages began opening portals to send groups of dragon fighters to their fighting positions in the underdark, the far realm, the troupe and the Black Mountains outside Hyreath Academy.

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Within the great stone meeting room messengers from every faction shouted information at the masked woman seated at the head of the table. Mammon's armies had suddenly appeared in every realm, his demons attacking without mercy.