Tessolar sighed. For the first time, Miro thought long and hard about how old the High Lord was. He looked every day of his age. "So be it. We will honour the alliance. We will send our men to the Ring Forts. We will send our enchanters to help arm them. We will send our bladesingers to combat the imperial legion. We will bring down this tyrant, once and for all."
High Lord Legasa stood and placed his hand over his heart. "Raj Halaran thanks you for honouring the alliance."
The Alturan High Lord nodded. "What of your border with Loua Louna?"
"The one place Xenovere would never dare attack. Without artificers his war machine grinds to a halt — no one to repair his dirigibles, replace his mortars, or supply him with prismatic orbs."
"These days are uncertain."
"Not one house has ever survived an attack on the artificers. ‘Those who hold the tools of war hold the keys to victory’, as my father used to say. No, they stand to make too much profit, as always, supplying both sides."
High Lord Tessolar nodded, "We will send our men to the Ring Forts, and we will get back your Lexicon."
11
I wonder how many houses vanished from Merralya, simply because their Lexicons were lost and the magic was never renewed.
— Diary of High Enchantress Maya Pallandor, Page 514, 411 Y.E.
MIRO retired early, but couldn’t quiet his mind. His thoughts kept turning to Esmara. She’d liked him, hadn’t she? Why had she left? Would his house and hers be at war soon? Was this how the Emperor promised his people lower prices from the other houses?
Miro slept fitfully. The dream came to him again. An old man held a shining knife close to Miro’s eye. He was powerless, there was no strength in his arms, like when he was a young child. At first when he heard the screams he thought they were part of his dreams. His eyelids fluttered and a low sound escaped his lips.
A commotion woke everyone in the chamber at the same time. A thudding boom.
Miro leapt out of bed, reaching for his sword. Men were yelling and calling to one another. A woman screamed. Miro realised the noise was coming from somewhere outside. Bare-chested and wearing only coarse trousers, Miro ran into the street.
He stopped and stared at the Halrana market house. Flames were pouring from the side of the building. Black billowing smoke clouded the night sky.
Soldiers in Halrana brown were running and calling out. In the distance Miro saw an iron golem leap out of a window, barely pausing as it landed with surprising agility and scanned the street, searching, its skin glowing silver.
"The loremaster! The High Animator has been assassinated!" a Halrana soldier cried. Other soldiers took up the call.
A warrior in brown came bursting out of the shadows, crashing into Miro. They both fell down in a tangle.
"Sorry," Miro said, standing and extending his hand.
The soldier glared up at Miro. His head was shaved, and Miro drew back as he recognised the round features of a Tingaran.
"Over here!" he yelled.
Something dropped into the impostor’s hand.
"Shekular!" the man named an activation sequence and lunged at Miro, who barely leapt out of the way. Miro saw it was a small knife.
The assassin’s lunge hit the wall behind Miro instead. Sparks instantly shot in a fountain, as the small knife tore a deep gouge into the solid stone. An enchanted knife!
The assassin lunged at Miro again, his body twisting with the movement. Remembering his training, Miro slipped deftly around the assassin’s body. The knife glowed intensely, brighter than the brightest nightlamp. Once again the assassin swung, this time directly at Miro’s face. Miro saw the deadly point, bursting with energy, coming towards his eyes. It blinded him as he tried to duck. Too late! Miro sensed the blade making contact with his hair, felt the breath of its passage, heard the buzz and hum as its runes seethed.
Another Alturan soldier burst out of the market house. He instantly grasped the situation and drew his sword, hanging back, looking for an opening. Miro moved his body around, allowing the soldier to come forward.
The Alturan executed a classic attack, the razor sharp steel feinting at the assassin’s legs, then making a pass at the head, before thrusting at his chest.
Miro saw the assassin’s counter coming, but there was nothing he could do.
"Shekular-astassine-shekular," the assassin hummed the activation runes. The blade glowed brighter and brighter, the runes first silver, then pure white. The assassin ducked under the Alturan’s sword and thrust at his chest.
Miro saw his countryman’s body explode as the knife hit his side. Blood and viscera poured out in a river, the upper half of the man completely separating from the lower and flying off in gibbets, instantly coating both Miro and the assassin in gore.
Miro saw his opportunity. His steel sword shot out at the assassin’s head, an attack meant more to delay than to score a hit. Yet instead of blocking, the assassin ducked out of the way and began to run.
"Over here!" Miro called again. He began to chase the man, hoping more soldiers would follow.