Page 26 of Immortal Alliance

The sun rises on another day, and Kolvar looks up at the sky with a smile on his face. I follow his gaze, but I see nothing aside from the holes that pepper the rockface that looms above us.

“We’re here,” Kolvar announces, leading us around the side of the immense boulder to a large crack in the canyon wall. I squeeze between my companions and when I step out on the other side, I can’t help the way my jaw drops.

Kolvar was right—we’ve arrived… somewhere. Large walls encircle an enormous kingdom of polished terracotta. A kingdom that appears out of nowhere, a mirage in this endless desert of sand.

Kolvar shouts for someone to open the gate and two men with scarves over their faces obey without hesitation. Vibrant red streamers hang between the stalls of a bustling marketplace at the heart of the stronghold. Elves, demons, ogres, gnomes, trolls, golems, satyrs, pixies, nymphs, and other creatures fill the streets. It’s been many years since I’ve seen this many species existing in apparent harmony.

Sirens sit high on a balcony, singing to those below as halflings and sprites dance a happy jig. My eyes are hungry as I try to take in each little detail. I look back and notice the way Dragan takes everything in and smiles, causing my heart to stutter for a moment. It’s very rare that he smiles, but when he does, it’s devastating in its beauty. And he hasn’t smiled at me for a while, not since our last conversation when he learned about Pyre, Baron and me. Truth be told, Dragan’s been avoiding me.

Kolvar weaves through the throng of creatures, pushing toward the north end of the stronghold.

“The east belongs to the Banefire Horde, Adamante, and Mournblades. The West belongs to the two noble clans, and the king and his family take the north. Everythin’ else belongs to those under the king’s protection,” the satyr shouts above the activity in the streets. I notice how the streamers, banners, and shutters of the buildings change colors to pay tribute to whichever clan they belong to.

There are guilds and trade shops everywhere, surrounded by homes that reach toward a bright blue sky and are carved from the same terracotta that shapes the walls. Green ivy and fragrant flowers add splashes of emerald among the shades of orange, red, yellow, gold, sapphire, and purple. We walk up a large staircase that leads to an oasis garden of tropical and desert plants. Two enormous doors carved from soapstone open as Kolvar gives the signal.

“This is the Hall of Clans. As a chieftain, I’m tasked with representing my people here at the gatherings.”

“You have a fully operational government here,” I say in awe. I don’t know what I was expecting before arriving here, but it wasn’t this.

Kolvar nods. “Despite what people think of mercenaries, we have just as many politics as any other civilization, we just aren’t as civilized.” Then he snorts.

The Hall of Clans is a large room with wood-paneled walls. Tribal rugs cover the natural floors and a firepit rests at the center. The ceiling is open to let the smoke out, and the scent of roasting meats permeates the air. My stomach rumbles and I look over at Dragan, only to find him already studying me. As soon as our eyes meet, he looks away.

The sound of hooves catches my attention, and curtains open to allow a centaur into the room. He’s nearly a head taller than Pyre and he’s wider than even Kolvar. The expansion of his chest alone seems to take up the entirety of the room.

Silken tresses fall naturally in golden waves around his face and shoulders, and a bronze circlet rests on his brow with a ruby at the center. The color brings out the unique shade of violet in his eyes. Kolvar takes a knee, and Dragan and I follow suit. It’s unusual for the gargoyle to bow to anyone, which speaks volumes of the centaur’s commanding aura.

“Stand, please,” he says in a pleasantly clear voice. “Any friend of Kolvar’s is a friend of mine.”

“This is,” Kolvar starts but the centaur interrupts him with a smile.

“I am Galmer, King of The Mercenaries.”

“My name is Eilish,” I offer with my own smile as I stand and turn to face Dragan. “And this is Dragan.”

“Welcome.” The king gestures to two seats beside his throne at a long table in the center of the room. “Will you have a seat?”

Dragan and I obey the kind request. As soon as we do, Galmer settles his attention on me. He doesn’t say anything right away, but studies me with kind eyes.

“You are quite beautiful, Eilish,” he finally says before he looks at Dragan. “The gargoyle is a lucky man. Any man brave enough to take on a succubus is greatly rewarded.”

I look to Dragan and notice he simply nods at Galmer, but his lips are tight and his jaw is even tighter. I can’t help but wish I’d never told him the truth about Baron, Pyre and me. Things would have been much better if I hadn’t.

“How did you know what I am?” I ask Galmer.

“When you live as long as I have, Eilish, there is very little that remains a mystery.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” I say and then wince as the words leave my mouth. I don’t mean to offend him but I most likely have. I can’t help it—Dragan has me on edge and that edge has put me into a foul mood.

“Wrong?” Galmer asks.

“I’m not all succubus,” I answer. “I’m also half angel.”

Luckily, the conversation only sparks a bout of laughter from the unusual king. “I like your fire, Eilish.”

His compliment makes me smile. It’s not every day that someone treats me like an equal only seconds after learning what I am. I find King Galmer refreshing. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Now that we’ve exchanged pleasantries,” he says as his smile drops slowly. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

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