Blood Requiem

by Christopher Husberg

  A roaring ball of flames formed in front of Alain. The flames obeyed his every command; they were completely under his control—and he was under theirs. People cried, shouting out, as the fireball grew before him. Someone shouted his name, but he did not care. He was the fire, and the fire was him.

  The burning orb grew. He knew where this one would go.

  Straight to his father.

  Someone touched his arm.

  He looked down in anger, in helpless thrall to the flames, and was about to drop the giant orb of flame on whoever it was that had disturbed him.

  “Alain, don’t,” Morayne shouted. The roar of the flames building in the giant ball of fire was so loud he could hardly hear her. She must have crawled to him; everyone around him was still lying prone on the ground.

  “He killed Brother Maddagon,” Alain said through the flames, through the tears in his eyes and the terror in his throat. He still cradled his former mentor’s head in his arms. “He deserves to die!”

  “If you don’t stop, you’ll take all of us with him!”

  Alain looked at the scorched devastation around him. Making amends to Taira had kept him going for so long, had kept him sane. Now, he did not even have that. He had nothing, and was completely powerless to the fear, hysteria, and rage that relentlessly shadowed him. He was about to let everything around him burn, when he remembered something Brother Maddagon had said. He did not know where the words came from; it was not his own voice. But someone, or something, spoke in his mind.

  That doesn’t work with things of the soul. The way up is down, son. I needed to let go, to admit I had no power, no chance whatsoever at control. Only then was I able to order my life.

  Alain stopped. He was about to kill Morayne—perhaps the only person left on the Sfaera who remotely understood him.

  You are my life’s work, son. You both are.

  He was about to kill Sev, and Fedrick, and dozens of others, innocent and guilty.

  You two can do much together.

  His father had nothing to gain from killing Brother Maddagon; he had done it in anger. Alain was about to kill his father for the same reason.

  “I need help,” Alain said. He said it out loud, but he did not say it to anyone there. He said it to nature, to the Sfaera, to its people, to any power out there that might listen.

  “I cannot do this alone,” he said, tears streaming down his face.

  The ball in front of him began to fade, just like the flames in his mind. He looked down at Morayne, and reached for her hand. She reached back. She placed her other hand, softly, on Maddagon’s forehead.

  “I’m sorry,” Alain said. “I was wrong, I—”

  “You’d damn well better be, you almost ashed me,” she said, but then she hugged him, and he hugged her back, and bloody Oblivion if it didn’t feel more right than anything he’d ever felt. Together, they rested Brother Maddagon gently on the ground, and then they stood.

  Immediately, Alain knew something was wrong.

  He looked around at everyone, still on the ground, laid flat by his burst of fire. Smoke rose into the air, some of it from bodies. Some of them were probably dead. Everyone was still down, other than Morayne and himself. Everyone except for one person.

  Lailana.

  She stood, unburnt, glaring at Alain through fire and smoke.

  Nearby, Code also struggled to his feet, singed but still in one piece.

  “I told you there was a way to recognize who Nadir’s avatar was.” Code nodded at Lailana. “What she’s doing, that whole not-catching-fire thing? That’s one way.”

  Lailana smiled. No, it wasn’t a smile, Alain realized. Her mouth widened into what looked like a grin, but he got the distinct impression she was baring her teeth.

  “About time someone figured it out,” she rasped, and her voice had changed, somehow. “Of course it had to be the man from Alizia.”

  She looked at Code, and Alain could swear her eyes burned a bright orange. “Hade told me about you,” she said. Her teeth elongated.

  Goddess, what was happening?

  “He told me how you and that woman ruined his fun on the island. He told me to watch out for you. Well, I have. And I’m prepared, Nazaniin.”

  Lailana reached toward Code.

  “No,” Code said, and that was the last coherent thing Alain heard from him. Code began to scream, clutching his head.

  “What are you doing?” Alain shouted.

  “I’m driving him mad,” Lailana said, as her smile grew ever wider. She changed more, now, transformed from the beautiful woman she’d been into something else. Something different, and darker.

  Alain reeled. Lailana was Nadir’s avatar. She had caused all the death, Madness, and destruction.

  This was all because of her.

  Another ball of flame formed before Alain, but this time it was different. This time, Alain had purpose. This time, Alain was trying to trust.

  “Release Code,” Alain told her. “Let him go.”

  “No,” she said.

  Alain launched the ball of fire, but Lailana didn’t move. The fire passed through her, singeing away her hair, clothing, skin. Only a burnt reminder of what was once human remained. Blackened muscles, with cracked, burnt bone beneath. Orange iridescent smoke rose lazily from her glowing eyes, boring into Alain from a dark skull. Her grin widened, teeth sharp and pointed.

  “I hold the power of a Daemon,” Lailana rasped. “You cannot defeat me.”

  “Don’t we all?” Morayne stepped forward, raising her arms. The earth began to vibrate, rumbling underfoot. An arm of rock jutted up from the ground next to Lailana, and slammed down on her. She screeched, and another arm of earth jutted up on the other side, burying her underneath it. Another arm, and another arm, until piles and piles of rock and rubble and dirt had slammed down onto the space where Lailana once stood.

  Alain stared at the heap of rubble. Morayne took ragged, slow breaths behind him. Code had stopped screaming, and struggled to his feet.

  Morayne turned to Alain, exhausted. She smiled. The second time Alain had seen her smile since they met. It was beautiful, and he smiled back.

  “Remind me never to—”

  The pile of rubble exploded, and a black streak zipped towards them. Everything happened slowly. Alain reached out to Morayne, screaming for her to run. Morayne turned, looking over her shoulder. She was there, in front of Alain, in one moment. In the next, she was gone.

  A hideous crash behind Alain made him turn to see Lailana, levitating, reaching down to lift Morayne up by her neck from the ground.

  “This one was mad enough to think she could defeat me,” Lailana said, her voice a burning cackle. “I like that.”

  The earth rumbled. Morayne was still alive, still conscious. She was fighting. A stone pillar reached up from the ground, but Lailana saw it first. She whipped out her other hand, and the pillar shattered.

  Lailana laughed. “Your attempts are valiant, girl. But I’m going to kill you now.”

  Code reached Alain’s side. “We need to work together. It’s the only way we stand a chance.”

  “How can we kill her?” Alain asked. “You saw what my fire did.” Or didn’t do.

  “She can die, just like any human. It just takes more. A lot more.”

  Alain hesitated. The panic still simmered inside of him. He was afraid. He’d surrendered himself, his control, once to Something out there. It had worked. But fear plagued him now, its claws rooting inside him, stopping his breath.

  Could he do it again? Could he overcome his fear?

  Could he do it when there was a blackened, burning Daemon avatar about to kill someone he cared about?

  Immediately, Alain knew the answer. He had been afraid his entire life. Every day, every moment terrified him, for any reason and all reasons and for none at all. He would never escape that fear, he realized; it would always be there. But dealing with fear day in and day out for his entire life had done at least one thing for him.
Now, in the midst of sheer terror, Alain could handle fear.

  He just had to do something about it.

  Another pillar jutted up, and this time Alain reached out to the flames, beckoning them. He did not attempt to exert dominance anymore. Instead, he invited the flames to join him. To aid him, in his time of need.

  The flames answered.

  At the same time, weapons, discarded by Scarabs and Denizens alike, rose into the air and sped towards Lailana. Code was using telesis.

  Lailana deflected them easily, still holding Morayne with one hand, her movements so fast they blurred into the night.

  “Don’t hurt Morayne,” Alain shouted through gritted teeth.

  The earth rumbled again, and another pillar rose up.

  Alain redirected all his flames from Lailana into the pillar. It glowed an angry orange-red.

  Lailana, distracted by Code’s constant bombardment, looked about her in frustration. If she noticed the blazing pillar, she wasn’t able to do anything about it.

  Alain ran towards Lailana and Morayne, still sending heat and fire into the pillar. The earth continued to shake, and another pillar jutted up from the ground. Alain let that one serve as another distraction, and continued to concentrate his effort onto the first.

  “Code!” Alain shouted. “Can you take Morayne?”

  “Think so,” he responded. “Do your thing, mate.”

  Alain, courting the flames, sent every ounce of heat and fire he could muster into the blazing pillar. It burned from red to orange to a yellow so bright it was almost white, molten, losing its shape.

  Exactly what Alain wanted.

  Suddenly, he heard Brother Maddagon’s voice again.

  The way up is down. I needed to let go. Only then was I able to order my life.

  Find your serenity, son.

  Don’t lose yourself in the fire. Find yourself in it.

  With his last remaining effort, Alain reached into the pillar, greeting the heat, the molten rock, appropriating it into himself. It recognized him, and it aided him. He sent the burning pillar of earth onto Lailana, just as Code lifted Morayne away, directly into Alain’s arms.

  The molten rock poured onto Nadir’s avatar, and she screamed.

  “You have her, mate?” Code shouted.

  Alain lowered Morayne gently to the ground. Her eyes were open, but she didn’t look at him. She did not respond. Dark, burned bruises enveloped her neck where Lailana had held her.

  The earth had stopped shaking.

  Alain’s vision blurred as he looked back at Code. “I have her.”

  Code ran forward, sword drawn.

  The hideous, burning pile of already-cooling molten rock twisted and churned as Lailana struggled beneath it. An arm reached up, followed by a burning, blackened skull.

  Code severed both, and each fell to the ground in a burst of sparks and ash.

  It was over.

  Morayne did not move.

  “Your Majesty,” someone said. Alain’s jaw clenched. His father. He felt the anger rise within him, the flames in his skull.

  He took a breath. He could not support that anger any longer. He let it go, completely and wholly, to something greater.

  “Your Majesty,” someone said again.

  Alain felt no anger this time.

  “Your Majesty. Alain.”

  Only then did Alain realize that the words were addressed to him.

  He looked up, vision still blurred, eyes stinging from smoke and ash and horror, to see Fedrick.

  “Your father is dead,” Fedrick said. “I am deeply sorry for your loss, Your Majesty.” Fedrick bowed his head. Then, he bent the knee.

  Alain looked over his shoulder at where his father had been the last time he saw the man. Gainil wasn’t there. He must have fled, and been killed as he ran. A death as meaningless as his life.

  “I lost a father today,” Alain said, his eyes resting on Brother Maddagon’s body, “but he was not the king.”

  Alain looked down at Morayne, and took her again in his arms. She still didn’t move; neither did the earth.

  Alain bowed his head, and allowed himself to cry.

  PART III

  WE DIE WITH THE DYING

  29

  Four months after the battle of the Setso, Triah

  RICCAN CARRIERI WOKE TO the sound of incessant pounding on his apartment door. He checked the waterclock by his desk. Still a few hours from midnight. He must have fallen asleep in his armchair. He placed the book he’d been reading—Cetro’s Early Poems—and stood, picking up a sheathed dagger as he walked to the door. The bloody thing was about to be knocked off its hinges.

  “All right, all right,” he said loudly.

  He opened the door, dagger hidden but at the ready.

  Kosarin Lothgarde, Sirana Aqilla, and Karina Vestri stood at his door, grim looks on their faces.

  Carrieri muttered a string of curses. Then, “Come in.”

  The Consular, Venerato, and Authoritar followed him into his chambers, closing the door behind them. Carrieri turned to face them.

  “What happened?” He was irritated, but less for the interruption and more because of the reason that must be behind it. They would not personally call on him at this hour unless it was dire.

  “The reinforcements we sent to General Kyfer were attacked this morning,” Karina said. “Where are your maps?”

  Carrieri frowned, but led them to the long table next to his desk. A large map of Khale stretched across the surface.

  Karina pointed to the southwest section of the Eastmaw Mountains. “The reinforcements entered the valley between the mountains and Lake Dravian,” she said. “But they—”

  She looked up at Carrieri. “I need a smaller-scale map, Riccan. One of Lake Dravian.”

  He opened a large drawer in the table, and flipped through a series of maps. Finally, he found one of the more localized area of the Eastmaw Mountains and Lake Dravian. He pulled it out, placing it over the map of Khale.

  “Thank you,” Karina said, continuing. “The tiellan forces—”

  “You are sure it was the tiellans?” Carrieri asked. “The mountain villages have been giving us trouble, lately. That’s why Kyfer was there in the first place.”

  “They had the psimancer with them,” Lothgarde said.

  “Goddess, I’ll get to her later,” Karina said. “We tasked Captain Graggius to lead our troops to Kyfer’s position.”

  After Kyfer’s inconceivable loss at the battle of the Setso, Carrieri and the Parliament had sent Captain Ginan Graggius, with an entire regiment of twenty-five hundred legionaries, to reinforce the Steel Regiment and take care of this tiellan problem once and for all.

  “Graggius led his troops the shortest way around the lake.” Karina traced her finger along the northwestern edge of the lake, between the water and the mountains. “The tiellan forces ambushed them. They’d hidden themselves away in the foothills, and when Graggius’s forces spread out far enough, they attacked.”

  “Shit,” Carrieri whispered. Had it been him, he would never have led his forces on that side of the lake. Certainly not without scouting first. Graggius was a strong fighter, but not nearly as strong a tactician. His orders had been to join his forces with Kyfer’s and fall under the general’s command, and he’d set about doing that in a characteristically straightforward manner.

  Carrieri should have seen the blunder coming.

  “What were our losses?” Carrieri asked.

  “Our forces were crushed.” Karina’s voice was bordering on hysterical. “Almost one thousand killed in battle. Another hundred drowned or went missing after trying to escape.”

  Carrieri could not stop his eyes from bulging. Almost half of the reinforcements we sent.

  “And the Nazaniin cotirs?” Carrieri asked. They had sent two full cotirs—almost a quarter of the entire Nazaniin force in Triah—to help after the disaster at the Setso. He looked to Lothgarde, but the man’s face had turned red. Instead, Aqilla
spoke.

  “She killed a full cotir, and the second telenic as well.”

  Carrieri took a step back, and sat back into his chair. He let out a long breath.

  “You are sure she was the only psimancer?”

  “Our… sources conflict, but the general consensus is that yes, she was the only one.”

  “One woman did all of this,” Carrieri said quietly. He would very much like to meet this woman, if he did not kill her first.

  “Our sources conflict on the tiellan numbers as well,” Aqilla continued, “but most agree they could not have attacked with more than two thousand fighters. Kyfer thinks that might be just over half their full fighting force. Their losses were… minimal.”

  Two thousand tiellan troops was not a surprise. Kyfer’s scouts had informed them that the tiellan force had been increasing in size. A seemingly constant stream of tiellans gathered to the so-called Druids, many joining the fighting branch, who apparently called themselves Rangers.

  “They say the lake is red with the blood of the fallen,” Karina said. “And that the River Setso flows crimson as well.”

  Carrieri rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “You must ride to meet her,” Karina said.

  Carrieri took a deep breath. A part of him wanted to do just that. “Roden continues to prepare for war. If they discover I’ve left Triah, that might be the catalyst they need to mount an offensive.”

  “Goddess,” Karina said, “I was afraid you would say that.”

  “I’ll send an entire division,” Carrieri said. “Fifteen thousand legionaries. Four thousand of them cavalry. I’ll order them to ride at first light.”

  Karina swore. “You would wait in Triah for a threat that may or may not appear, while these tiellan Rangers wreak havoc in our nation?”

  “There is more to it than that,” Lothgarde said, looking at Carrieri over his spectacles. “Isn’t there, Riccan?”

  Carrieri glared at Lothgarde. If that man was using psimancy to get this out of him…

  Canta’s bloody bones, what if he is? What could you do about it?

  “Lothgarde, Aqilla, leave us,” Karina said.

  Carrieri blinked. Karina, as Consular, technically had authority over the Citadel and its leaders, but she knew as well as Carrieri the power these two people wielded. They were not worth alienating under any circumstance.