Wizard's Price

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The sunlight came up over the ocean, setting the river afire and bringing with it the promise of a sweltering day in the desert. As the long reaching rays of the bright sun stretched across the scorched earth, it revealed for everyone to see the large city with no walls and no defenses, because it had no natural enemies to need to be protected from. It also revealed the large army of the obsessed dead waiting on the horizon.

King Boreas stood at the edge of the tallest balcony of the palace, staring out at the dark line of pretas that stood, resolute and unmoving. Like they were all waiting for the symbol that would be given by the single preta that stood apart from the others. Gleaming silver dagger in hand, glaring hatefully at the city of Luceria Ostia and still only seeing the ragtag collection of tents and refugees that had first landed on his river.

At her king's side, Queen Jenifry stared with wide eyes and a wide mouth that was covered by both hands. Like she was perpetually stuck in a silent scream of horror. The crowd of death was so large that they could actually smell it wafting over the city by the wind. The scent of rot and decay was stronger for being grouped together in one large group.

As the morning arrived and the people came awake, the city fell silent. A few people walked to the city limits and stared at the unmoving nightmare. The gray skin, the desiccated frames, the skeletal forms were obvious even at this distance.

"This isn't real..." Jenifry gasped, shaking her head to deny their existence outright.

"Why are they just...standing there?" Boreas asked, trying to hide the fact that his hands were shaking by clenching them tightly.

"Where's Lucia?!" The queen turned quickly to her nearby guard.

The man, staring slack jawed at the sea of pretas, didn't say anything. He couldn't. He couldn't even make sense of what he was seeing. Because he wasn't looking at an army of the dead waiting to run over their city. That would be impossible.

"Where is my daughter?!" Boreas demanded to know, slamming his hand down onto the stone rail. The sound of it made the guard jump and sputter, but no useful information came from the odd noises. The king growled, turning back to the army.

His heart was racing right there in his throat. He felt like he was about to be sick. Part of him was still insisting that there was no such thing as pretas. And because they did not exist, he couldn't really be looking out at an army of them.

And Lucia was missing. She had left after dinner last night and her guards stated that they lost track of her when she ran away from them into the city. Reports of the nomads trying to convince the river people of the oncoming hoard had reached Boreas before long. He had scoffed, considered ordering his men to insist the nomads leave the city, and had been wondering how he was going to convince his mentally unstable daughter to marry Jovanni.

His morning had already been going downhill quickly. And now he looked out from his balcony over an army of nightmares that had come to face him.

All because he hadn't believed in them.

He needed his army. They wouldn't mobilize in time. He needed to tell his people to barricade themselves in their homes. Not all of them would have the capability. He needed to evacuate people onto the boats. There weren't enough vessels to hold them all.

More than anything, he needed a Great Wizard. One that he had already stripped of power then had refused to listen no matter how much Lucia had begged. His daughter had literally begged at one point, and he would not even humor her.

Because this could not possibly happen.

Yet here he was. Out of time, out of options. His people were facing slaughter and the best he could do was wonder how many of them he could save.