by J. M. Ivie
“I’ll break you in half!” Niall spat out.
“I don’t doubt it!” He laughed, rolling his shoulders as he prepared for the next attack. It came furiously. Niall jabbed at him with his knife. The man effortlessly dodged each one. With a steady hand he whacked Niall’s wrist, making him drop his weapon.
Niall screamed. With rage in his eyes, he threw himself toward his assailant. It was useless. The Dahkhallian dodged the attack and landed a sturdy and solid blow in Niall’s armpit. As he buckled over in pain, the man punched Niall again. It appeared he was striking only the most sensitive of places, crippling the man. It was working. The Dahkhallian used as little energy as he could—wearing his opponent down with each second that passed. It was a sight to behold! I couldn’t help buckling over in laughter at the spar before me. The Butcher was losing to a five-foot, six-inch man.
The man landed one last blow to Niall’s temple. His fingers had a slight glow, and when they connected with Niall’s head, the beast of a man crippled to a sleeping mess on the courtyard.
“Aha, easy.” The man grinned and looked at Barak and me. “If he were to study ancient Tytherine, he would have seen that comin’!” He cackled, kneeling down and poking Niall’s cheek.
“Tytherine?” Barak asked, his curiosity piqued. “What is that?”
“Dahkhallian. It’s something we Dahkhallian’s have been doin’ for thousands of years. Somethin’ to protect ourselves with.” He laughed away our concerns. “Come, I may be proficient in making my opponents fall asleep, but my true gift is bridging the gap between animals and man. I’m a wizard of sorts you could say!”
“You are the bird whisperer, are you not?” Barak was nearly smiling as if he had connected an invisible dot. “I should have known. I heard legends told of the man who could train any bird that was brought to him. The legendary Duncan Cross.”
“Aye!”
“You must be nearly fifty,” Barak mumbled.
“Fifty-three to be exact. I don’t look bad for me age, do I?” He winked as he tilted his head. The crows feet around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “And! My wee boy, Matthew, was just born but a year ago. I have five joys. My daughter is off trying to make her way on Dahkhall, the oldest is followin’ in my footsteps. He’s the bird trainer back in Bouldarcaven. Trains every single one of the Priest’s birds, including his son’s eagle, mind you!” Duncan was so proud of his children… he talked us to death about them till Niall awoke from his slumber.
___
No longer staying at the castle, I took up residence with Barak at the cottage he rented. Neither of us were sure where Niall decided to stay. That night I lay in bed, wincing at the pain in my back. I heard Barak shift in his bed opposite mine, drawing my attention to him. He sat on the edge with his head bent down toward the floor. Something about his appearance seemed off—different. The muscles in his back were tense and his hands gripped tight to the edge of the bed.
“Barak?” I sat up. “Is everything all right?”
He turned, looking at me from the side of his eye. “You know, it has been almost twenty years since I have set foot on Fiermont?” he muttered, standing. “You go too long without returning to your homeland, you begin to feel…” He paused, as if the word itself tasted bitter on his tongue. “Lost.”
With liquid motions, he pulled on the black poet shirt that laid on the edge of the bed. Silence filled the air as he walked over to the balcony. “I sometimes lay awake at night thinking about Fiermont,” he said as he tapped the pendant of his necklace. “But, something inside me knows if I ever return to Fiermont…” He groaned aloud, pressing his palms against the white marble railing. The night wind rushed into the room, not easing the tense atmosphere. “Perhaps it is mere superstition.” He laughed, raising his eyes to look at the moons. His laugh was anything but mirthful… it was hollow and haunted. “I feel, if I return, I will find my doom within the dusty canyons.”
My heart hammered in my chest as I felt a pang of sadness rise in my throat. I didn’t think it was possible for a man to predict his future, but, something inside me knew, as crazy as it seemed, it could happen.
“I often dream about Fiermont. My mind drifts to my memories, pulling the visions of the land back. I can see the blue mountains painted red from the sun which sets in the western heaven. The rivers glow orange as if made of fire as they reflect the dusk sky.” Barak leaned against the balcony, breathing out a long sigh. “I hope it is as grand as I remember. The cities are vast, but, the countrysides? That is where my heart is. I miss hearing the music and watching the people dance during the Festival of Dracul. The women wear dresses as red as flames, and the men suits like gray ash. My people, the Northern Fiermontians, are more passionate than the other nations. Everything comes out untamed and raw.”
“Like you?” I smiled, throwing my legs off the bed as I leaned forward.
Barak chuckled, his shoulders rolling as laughter rumbled in his chest. “I suppose so.” He looked at me, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. A real smile. It was a rare thing to see.
Silence hovered in the room, filling the air with a calm peace which was absent just moments before. “I think I understand it now, Apollo,” Barak said after a long silence. “These people here, they have taught me much. They are compassionate, and they are gentle.” His gaze became soft as if he were thinking of one person in particular. “And, despite how coarse I am, they are like rushing water, smoothing out the most jagged rocks with time. Patient and constant. They do not change.” Barak sighed and walked across the room to the door.
“You headed somewhere?” I raised my brow, curious what he was doing.
“Get rest, Apollo, there is someone I must see.” Barak smiled in a way I hadn’t seen before. But, despite the curiosity burning in my mind, I nodded and didn’t pry any further. He would tell me in his own time if he thought I should know.
T H I R T Y - E I G H T
BARAK
THE MIDNIGHT BLUE SKY dripped with silver stars, lined by the dark silhouettes of trees. The night in the crystal cave flooded back to my memories. It washed around my heart like warm water, filling me with the hope I needed. I walked down the path through the sleepy town. Vendors closed their windows and locked their doors, resting before the morning of rush and sell.
I stopped at the front door of a small gray-stoned hut. Flowers sprouted along the cobblestone pathway. I raised my fist and knocked on the barrier, then waited for it to open.
The door creaked, and Mairead’s bright face emerged. “Barak? What brings you here?”
“I wish to speak with you.”
Mairead nodded, exiting the home. A shawl wrapped around her arms, keeping the cool night air from penetrating her milky skin. Her red dress danced in the wind, making her hair look far more orange than before.
I took her hand, rubbing my thumb over her delicate knuckles. “I have known you for a season, nearly two.” Her eyes burned—kindling and flickering like dying coals. Her body stood open, waiting for something.
“Barak.” Mairead’s hand followed the veins that traced my forearm. I watched as her lips, the shade of autumn spices, rolled between her teeth. “What is it?”
I led her to a seat, dropping beside her. “What makes you so kind? I have done nothing to merit it and, yet, you have given me friendship. Your words have been kind, and you are full of…” I scowled, “full of love. You confuse me.”
Mairead smiled, twining her fingers with mine. “Ever the logical one.” She laughed. “Not seeing what has been in front of you this whole time?”
I tilted my head, uncertain of what she spoke.
“Come, Barak.” She stood and took my hand, tugging me along with her down the cobblestone street. She was my calm hurricane, upsetting my life while putting every piece I thought worthless into its place. She made life intelligible.
She brought me to the field outside of the gates, showing me the vast expanse of barley. It caught the moonslight like gold, shattering
the gleam into a thousand flickering pieces. Mairead stood among the gold like a pillar of fire, daring to ignite the tow-colored earth with her presence. Her hands touched the barley as she pointed her chin eastward. A silent request for me to follow.
“You wish to know why?” she asked, looking at me. “Why I have been kind to you?”
I nodded.
With an impish grin, Mairead walked deeper into the field. “There is a King. His name is Sotiris—” she looked at me, as if trying to gauge if I were still listening. Satisfied I was, she continued, “Sotiris is the maker of all the islands. The source of life and of power.”
“Who created Him, then?” It seemed odd, believing there was no source to this King.
Mairead paused, her eyes searching the heavens. “Time did not exist before Him. He is the source of time, and, therefore, He is the beginning.” She sighed, “He’s a spirit. He takes on a material form, one which commands respect, but He is not limited to that form. What do you think created Dracul?”
My head hurt. I did not wish to hear this, not now. “Mairead.” I grabbed her hand, “Why are you speaking of this King? What has He to do with your kindness toward me?”
Mairead smiled, “Because, without Sotiris’ kindness to me, I wouldn’t be here today… with you.” Mairead breathed in, pointing to the valley. “It was on a night as this. I was much younger, barely Laramie’s age. Men captured me—stole me off to a place of darkness. A place where I was to die. These people hated my father. I had refused the King for years until that night. I screamed for help. I begged the King to send someone to save me.” She looked at me, tears filling her eyes. “Then, he sent someone. He was young, not very experienced, yet, he risked his life. He spoke in a voice thick with Fiermontian accent. He lifted the mask from his face, saying I would be all right… he would get me out.” She reached out, touching my cheek. “Eight years ago you saved a girl from the gates of Lapp, Barak. Eight years ago you risked your life and got her out. I knew you wouldn’t recognize me… I looked far different.”
My breath became trapped in my lungs. I remembered… it was one of my first missions as a Ranger. Jensen ordered me and William to kill everyone in the base and leave no one alive. When I saw the girl, curled in the corner of the cell, something inside me said to get her out. To save her life. To give her a chance I wished someone had given me.
“You said you had done nothing good as a Ranger. But, I stand here as a testimony that you have. When you brought Apollo here to the Woodlands, and I saw the look of desperation etched on your face, I knew it was you. It could only have been the King… to see we would meet once more.”
Warmth spread in my chest as I grabbed her, hugging her tightly. It all made sense. As if fog lifted, I saw her for the woman she was. Why I had felt the way I did toward her. We had met before, and it was only by her wits and memory I now knew.
“You are the Empress elect of Freya.”
The way she looked at me, the brief drip of sorrow in her eyes, told me I was right.
PART SEVEN
T H I R T Y - N I N E
THE SECOND MONTH OF SUMMER approached, bringing with it an array of blossoming trees and days as hot as fire. Under Barak’s watchful eye I recovered. Elric requested Barak and me to come to his study. Duncan, Niall, and one other joined us, gathered around the table.
“Name’s Tesla.” The young man threw out his hand, smiling. He had to be my age, with silver hair and mahogany eyes. “You’re that fellow with the tethers! Apollo, right?”
I nodded, peering at Barak who looked bored. The casual way he leaned against the wall made me think he considered no one in the room a threat.
“I have been working on the tether... and…” he produced a small vial out of his pocket, grinning. “I believe I can sever it with this.”
My heart leapt into my throat, “Are you… certain?”
He nodded, albeit a slow, half-committed nod. “As far as... as my calculations go. It will.”
A woman entered the room, her lithe figure resembling a man more than a woman. She was nearly my height, with squared shoulders and pensive brow. She had shaven her black hair along the sides of her head, left short on top, tucked under her red cloak. Her icy blue eyes found mine, freezing the blood in my veins.
Barak straightened behind me.
“Ah, this—” Duncan waved a hand at the woman, “this is Crimsyn.”
She bowed her head, keeping that ice-cold stare locked on me. “We have to work with newbies?” Her pale hands reached up and removed her cloak, and she sat in the chair nearest, kicking her feet up on the table.
Barak’s rumbling laugh made her eyes drift to him.
“Something funny, Fiermontian?”
A dip of his head was his only response. Knowing Barak, he would rather have her find out the hard way he wasn’t a newbie.
From her skeptical gaze, I gathered she understood his silent confidence. “What’s the wind this go, Elric?”
“I’ve received word—” Elric nodded to a guard who closed the door. “Anarchists are planning on using Runes. There’s unusual activity off the coast of Luxterra where Tesla captured the Anarchist.”
I wasn’t sure if I was the only one in the room who didn’t know what a Rune was or not.
“What brand of Rune?” Barak placed his palms flat on the table, the veins in his forearms rising.
“Tego.”
Everyone in the room flinched. So, I am the only one who doesn’t know what that is.
“If they are using Tego Runes—” Crimsyn picked at her nails, “they need a substantial source of power. That can’t just be put anywhere.”
Duncan nodded. “Tego Runes are mostly used on Dahkhall, but even then, it’s a rare sight.” He traced the map laid out on the table. “And this is on Luxterra.”
I raised my hand, “This is probably an idiot question, but,” I cleared my throat, “what’s a Tego Rune?”
Everyone paused, looking at each other for a moment.
“Tego Runes,” Duncan began. “Legend says the Warlock himself created them many years ago. They were once used in the Conquest of Kings, but, because of how much is required to power them, they were used only once. They were the crippling blow that felled Dahkhall those many years ago.” Duncan walked over to a tall glass cabinet and pulled from within an oak box. After he placed the box on the table, he lifted the lid.
I took a few steps forward, looking into the box. A small stone was inside, encasing a gem. A black diamond. I picked it up and examined it, “How are they made?”
“The rune is made by lightning strikin’ a pile of Blood Yeti excrement.”
I quickly put it back in the box. Barak snickered behind me.
“So, how does it work?” I wanted to wash my hands.
Elric spoke, “The Rune pulls power. You need a source which is usually a lightning bolt, volcano, or a powerful creature. The first is random, and only Dahkhall has that in abundance. They would need a sturdy rod to attract it. The second, well, there’s only two volcanos in all of Welkinia, and only Calorus is active. And, the third—”
“The third is the most plausible as to the Anarchists… what they are probably using,” Crimsyn said. “The question is what creature? It’s not like they are on Dahkhall with an abundance of terrors running around. And, if they have been able to do that, then what is next?”
Elric nodded, “Which is why the source must be found and all evidence of the Runes power destroyed. So, should you accept it, this is your mission. One: find and disable the Tego Runes. If the Anarchists are powering them, it’s only a matter of time before they use it against the islands. Two: find and free the prisoners before you create ashes of an empire.”
Niall smiled, “This will be easy!”
“One condition—” Elric said, turning to Niall, “do your best not to kill. These Anarchists, most of them are prisoners turned soldiers, brainwashed into thinking they are doing the right thing. Tesla will be in charge of
the Kilibri Potion. By the time the place is ash, the Anarchists will have forgotten everything regarding the Runes.”
Crimsyn scowled. “How? There’s no potion that can alter memory…”
“There isn’t,” Tesla said, pulling out a vial of blue liquid. “Well, I mean… until now. It’s not done. It’s all about who survives the potion’s affects.”
Elric shot Tesla a pointed stare.
“What I’m saying is not all the… the normids survived the experiment. One in seven died. Good… just… not what I wanted.”
Barak groaned, “Does it work on the human mind?”
There was a long pause.
“This is why I’ve asked you three to join,” Elric said. “The potion works on animals, but… if the Anarchists aren’t affected… we will need to make sure no one who worked with the Runes can tell the tale.”
F O R T Y
THE IMMENSE BUILDING SEEMED far less like a hidden fortress and far more like a glittering city. The sky turned a dust brown, and a dark veil of smog swirled below the sun. Chained Wyverns, perched atop the towers pillaring the massive walls, kept their hollowing stares down below.
“Look,” Barak muttered, pointing to the thin pillars positioned atop the mountain, surrounding the citadel. A purple haze emanated from the points. “Tego Runes.”
I shook my head, “From what they said, Tego Runes aren’t easy to power. So, how are they doing it?”
“There must be engineering inside the citadel.”
“Like the one in Siege Veil? The machine that powered the lights?”
Barak pressed his lips tightly together; his dark eyes analyzed the terrain. “We are few, and the amount of people in the fortress will be troublesome.”
“Am I not alone in wanting Ryanne here?”
Barak grinned, “At this moment, I think we all wish he was here.”