The King of the Vile by David Dalglish

Author:David Dalglish [Dalglish, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9781507762455
Amazon: B00STSL6JY
Barnesnoble: B00STSL6JY
Goodreads: 24718886
Publisher: Eschaton Press
Published: 2015-01-26T00:00:00+00:00

18

Roand’s room was the highest in the Masters’ Tower, and climbing up the many steps left Tarlak winded. He doubled over before the door, gasping for air. Had his injuries taken so much out of him that a few stairs could defeat him?

Yes. Yes, they had.

“One day,” he muttered as he knocked on thick oak door. “One day soon, you’ll...”

“I’ll what?”

Tarlak froze. The voice hadn’t come from the door, but from behind. Slowly turning around, he found Roand standing two steps below him with his arms crossed. Tarlak swallowed as his mind reached for a lie.

“You’ll be impressed with how much my studies have progressed,” he said smiling lamely.

The master of the tower chuckled.

“I have had many people plot my doom in hopes of achieving power, fame, or revenge. I welcome you to try, Tarlak Eschaton. Killing you would sadden me, but your attempt on my life would certainly be an amusing one. I daresay it would be worth it.”

“It’s good to know all sins can be forgiven so long as I’m entertaining,” Tarlak said as he stepped aside to let Roand pass. The wizard rapped the door once with his knuckles, and it opened. Tarlak followed him inside.

He’d expected something spacious and pretentious, perhaps carrying a vague fire theme, and he wasn’t disappointed. The room was sparsely furnished, only a bed, a balcony closed off by glass doors, and a few chairs sitting in front of a fireplace. Seven wisps of fire burned in a circle just below the ceiling, like the flames of a candle only they hovered above nothing and released no smoke. The carpet was a radiating pattern of red, orange, and yellow, and the colors shimmered with each step Tarlak took. The furniture was painted black, and where it touched the carpet, tiny hints of flame flickered in and out. Tarlak shook his head, beginning to believe Roand’s fascination with fire far surpassed scholarly focus and into the realm of deep-rooted fetishes. Oddly enough, the only thing not filled with fire was the actual fireplace, but a quick snap of Roand’s fingers fixed that.

“So what is it you come to my room for?” Roand asked as he moved to one of the many shelves lining the walls between vast paintings of sunrises and sunsets. A bewildering array of liquor bottles filled the shelf, enough to leave Tarlak jealous. They had alcohol in the tower? Why had no one informed him of this?

“For starters, I came for a drink,” he said.

Roand smiled at him over his shoulder. “A request I can easily fulfill.”

Moments later, Tarlak reclined in one of the coal-black chairs before the fireplace. The cushions sank around him, surprisingly comfortable. He held a slender cup of onyx half-full of red wine in his left hand.

“What if I turned myself into an elemental being of fire?”

Roand stood beside the balcony door, swirling a cup of wine in his hand as he watched the sun set.

“I had someone try that,” he said. “It was fascinating. Fire elementals are not native to our plane.

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