Page 7 of Stitches
With a furtive glance aside, Levi flicked a finger at the corner of his room, and where he indicated, a figure blossomed—Ashmedai, just as he’d looked in Daedlys’s shop, standing there with a soft smile.
Illusion magic was the extent of Levi’s power. He could create images as real as flesh, but only in appearance. While it looked as though the true Ashmedai stood before him, when Levi lifted from his seat to reach out and touch Ashmedai’s face, his fingers fell right through him. The illusion was still beautiful though.
Levi waved his hand to banish the mirage. He would have to face the real thing soon, and though nervous energy coursed through him as he turned to begin gathering the requested items for the king, most of that energy was becoming excitement.
Ashmedai
“What say you, Ash?”
“Hm?” Ashmedai looked up, chastising himself for drifting.
Much as he kept to himself most days, he enjoyed city council meetings, a chance for his people to directly tell him and his advisors how their lives might improve. Talk of Festival Day, however,continued to make him think on the lost prince, even after all these centuries.
“Apologies, Dreya,” Ashmedai said to her at his right.
City council meetings were held in the grand hall in the middle of what was otherwise the residential area, with rows of seating for anyone who wished to attend, and a head table for Ashmedai and his advisors.
Ashmedai turned from Dreya’s patient, smiling face to address the subject standing before them. “Apologies to you also, Grillo. Were you requesting clearance for additional lumber for festival structures?”
“That’s right,” Grillo answered.
He was a minotaur and one of the kingdom’s more towering subjects at over eight feet tall—though part of that height was from his impressive horns that curled up and then down like a ram’s. His face still retained an almost humanness, more than that of a bull, but he had hooves and a tail and massive muscles covered in fur.
He was an excellent carpenter due to his strength, often able to cut down trees with a single swing of his axe. One would likewise think that would make him an excellent hunter, but his wife surpassed him in that regard.
“Have you discussed with Yentriss your planned section of the wood?” Ashmedai nodded to Yentriss at his right.
Ashmedai might be king, but he took to heart his advisors’ counsel, and Grillo’s wife, Yentriss, was watchman in charge of the kingdom’s safety, which included its streets and settling disputes, as well as protection from outside threats.
“Grillo has proposed his route, yes,” Yentriss said, stern and without favoritism.
She was like a dragon without wings, average in stature, especially compared to Grillo, but whereas he had fur, Yentriss was covered in scales. Her face was even more human than her husband’s, despite green and gold plating, but her head elongated back to three hornlike pointsin place of hair.
“It is borderline,” Yentriss continued, “but there are too few mature trees within safer zones.”
“Is it necessary then to build such structures purely for the festival?” Ashmedai asked.
“If I may, Ash,” Grillo spoke up, “I’m not planning to build for building’s sake. The primary focus will be to rebuild dilapidated stalls, both in the market and those currently stored away. Many have gone without mending for far too many years, and I fear not making such changes could be a threat to public safety.”
“Much as I may be wary, he’s right,” Yentriss agreed.
The people here no longer aged. Their children did, but only to adulthood. No one died. A few people had gone missing over the centuries, believed by the masses to have been erased by the demon for venturing too near the barrier, but that was rare.
The problem was when people did want children, there wasn’t much room left where they could expand. They had already taken too much from the wood without time for the trees to grow again. Risks were becoming necessary.
“For the upcoming hunt, I have requested more warding crystals from Brax,” Ashmedai began, only to pause as he caught sight of shuffling at the back of the hall. Many people were here tonight, so several were standing, but at the very back in the far-right corner was a cloaked figure.
The one advisor missing from the head table, who should have been beside Yentriss, was Braxton, in charge of development and technology. Ashmedai realized he knew the cloak that had moved upon the mention of Braxton’s name. He’d seen it scurry away from him earlier that day.
Levi.
Maybe it wasn’t merely festival talk that had distracted Ashmedai, but his not quite close encounter with Braxton’s creation. He couldn’thelp it, but the one time he’d caught sight of the young man’s eyes, it cut him to the quick.
Violet—just like Cullen’s.
Ashmedai cleared his throat to cover that he had drifted once more and began again. “Grillo, we will equip you with some of the excess warding crystals to ensure your safety. If possible, I would also like to insist that you not enter the wood alone. Agreed?” he asked of Yentriss.
She nodded, and Grillo looked relieved.
