Siege of Night by Jeff Gunzel Page B

barely leaned forward from the bed, air hissing through his exposed teeth as he winced from the pain. “No, my friend,” said Azek as he lightly placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back. “I’ll go see what’s going on.”
    He stepped into the hall just in time to see the back of Berkeni’s bald head as he flashed around the corner. The old man was running? Azek wasted no time as he sped off after the surprisingly fast little man. He called out to him several times, but the man just kept on sprinting. This in turn sent a bit of a panic through Azek, seeing as there was no way Berkeni hadn’t heard him.
    He didn’t stop or even slow down until he arrived at the queen’s private chamber. He began pounding away insistently until Ilirra finally whipped open the door, her face a mask of puzzlement and full of concern.
    He couldn’t catch his breath as his hands fell to his knees. Bent over and panting, he was finally able to take one big breath and blurt out his message of distress. “My lady...we’re at war!”
    * * *
    The command center, or war room, hadn’t been used for anything in decades. The servants cleaned it daily like any other room in the palace, but it hadn’t served any functional purpose...until now.
    A single, thick, white carpet covered the floor, spreading all the way out until it fit snugly into the corners against the dark blue walls. Two red curtains drawn back by thick, twisted golden silk cords revealed one giant window with frosted glass panels, divided into squares by a checkered wooden frame. It allowed at least a little natural light to penetrate the room, but there was really no need for it, given the five oil stand lamps that provided plenty of light on their own.
    Four of the six walls in the hexagon-shaped room were almost completely shielded by black wooden bookshelves, segmented to fit perfectly against each side. Many of the old, thick books looked to be in decent shape from the outside, but the innards went on to prove that age spares nothing, as quite a few pages were yellowed and worn.
    Various maps of all sizes and regions blanketed the thick, round, oak table, sanded to the smoothness of glass and stained a deep, rich amber. A few of the assembled maps were small and able to lay relatively flat with no more than a slight arch. Others were extended rolls that needed objects placed at the corners to keep them from returning to the only position they had known for decades. Addel and Berkeni remained quiet, looking a little uncomfortable as they slouched down in their seats. They knew nothing of war or battle tactics and had little to offer in the way of advice.
    Ilirra paced back and forth, occasionally shaking her head in rapid little fits, as if enough denial would just make the cold reality go away. “I can’t believe this is happening. Hostility and aggression between towns is a daily occurrence, but there hasn’t been open war since—” She glanced at Berkeni, who in turn averted his eyes and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He knew what she meant, but the crytons were not the enemy this time.
    “We could attack them from here, my lady,” said Azek as he placed a calloused finger on one of the larger unrolled maps then slowly began to trace an invisible line as he spoke. “They will have to cross through this valley. It would be several days’ journey for our men, but if we gather our forces and begin the march tomorrow—”
    “Then you will have made the same mistake they have,” came the weakened voice from the doorway.
    Morcel leaned hard against the wooden frame, eyes sunken in deep, resembling a walking corpse. Ilirra ran over to him, flinging protests about how he should be in bed. She reached out and gripped his huge shoulders, as if you could actually move the beast if he didn’t want to be moved. The strong motherly instincts buried deep within the Queen seemed to come out at the strangest times.
    “They are giving us an advantage, Azek, and you