Reign of Phyre

by Nicholas Cooper

  Despite their mother’s intentions, however, the Elder brothers refused to embrace their new brothers. They did not want to share or play. Instead, they fought together against them, much to Yelia’s dismay.

  Virel Bartel – The Elders

  Rhen

  Rhen relieved Reilek and took the last few hours of his watch. Reilek didn’t protest. He was up before the sun rose, again. Though he was used to it, it never got any easier.

  As dawn broke, he woke up his companions and proceeded to start loading up the horses. They travelled light, knowing they would gather provisions upon reaching Braest the next morning.

  Breaking their fast, they ate a soldier’s rations of pork sausages and hard bread. Rhen enjoyed simple food more than the fanciful buffets of home. Perhaps it was the company that came with it –always a mercantile guest, some lord from here or there, the curtsies and bows, the formalities. He wondered how one was supposed to enjoy such a meal when every action was scrutinised. But a meal on the road, with only your chosen company, was one of life’s pleasures. Besides, Rhen could never really make peace with the Karzarki mainstay of spices. Without fail, it always made his stomach queasy and sometimes gave him the hiccups.

  After breaking their fast, they quickly packed up the last of their belongings and set off on the road. Karzarki engineering was responsible for the highways that were slowly connecting the towns and cities on the eastern side of the Desari Desert. It boosted trade in the region and allowed the army to respond to rebel ambushes quickly. And it made travelling all the faster and safer – at least until they reached as far east as Braest. After that, Karzark’s control was not as…consolidated.

  It was by all accounts a beautiful morning. Unusual for this time of year; clouds were supposed to start gathering before giving way to wind and snow. Yet it was blue as far as the eye could see, and with no accompanying chill. Not even a playful breeze danced through the trees. It was as though Yelia had given their journey her blessing.

  Breaking camp, they rode onwards towards Stoney Inn. Conversation was minimal, for Rhen was deep in thought over what Yaren had said last night. A boy indeed.

  It was about noon when they arrived at the door. A single building, popular amongst travellers for its convenient location between Mhir and Braest. Rhen had been here before many times. The owner was excellent at inflating the egos of rich merchants to pocket an extra coin. There were fewer customers today, probably on account of the bridge having been destroyed.

  Reilek leant forward on his horse and turned to Yaren, passing over Rhen in the middle. “It’s midday. Good time to get a meal. I’ll treat you before we cross the Togris, as thanks for riding with me this far.”

  Before Yaren could reply and no doubt take him up on the offer, Rhen interrupted. “It is already midday, and we have half a day’s march ahead of us. Besides, we’ve still got enough food. I would like to cross the ford before we make camp while the weather is good and there is light. Who knows what tomorrow’s weather will be like? The Togris is unpredictable. I’d rather cross it while it’s calm. I appreciate the sentiment though, Reilek, thank you.”

  “Ah, you’re right. Tomorrow might not be as good a day as today. Then, at least let me buy us something while we travel. Something to keep us going until camp. I will be no more than five minutes,” Reilek added in a put-on voice, “I also need to piss milord, if it please you.”

  “We shall wait here for you. Be quick,” Yaren answered, not having his friend request permission from a boy.

  As Reilek entered, six Khasari came out of the tavern They looked Reilek up and down as he brushed past them, muttering something to themselves as they walked. Eyebrows were raised as they noticed Rhen and Yaren on horseback. Yaren’s sword caught one of their attention.

  “I wouldn’t be trying to play rebel if I was you, stranger,” said one of the Khasari to Yaren, his confidence drawn from his numerical advantage rather than individual stature.

  “It’s not on my person, Khasari. I’m unarmed. You’ve nothing to fear,” replied Yaren. He was kinder than he needed to be, but perhaps it was to avoid being dragged into being asked several questions about their destination.

  “Ah, you’re also Karzarki. That saves us all a bit of time, then,” he laughed, “We just spent all of our lunch questioning a few rebels inside. Killed my appetite.” Right on queue, two men left the tavern. “That’s right, those two right there. Oi, those swords hidden in the grass over there, some unwise rebels left them there. I wouldn’t want you two civilians doing something as stupid as stealing them. Rezan?”

  “Yelia take you all,” said one of the two rebels. “We’ll be seeing you again, Karzarki. Soon. Stay safe. Six is not a big number on these dangerous roads.” As he made a rude gesture towards the Khasari, eight more rebels appeared from their hidden location amongst the trees and walked right up to their two comrades. Rhen tensed up. Yaren was close by, but there was a lot of rebels.

  The Khasari gripped his spear tighter but refrained from using it. “Aye, you might kill some of us, but none of you lot will live to gloat about it.”

  “What did he say?” asked one of the eight. “Their language sounds like a boar in labour.”

  “He’s saying if we reach for weapons then they’re free from their Heran thing. It’ll be a bloodbath,” replied the rebel who had spoken before. “Just act confident and get out of here. We don’t have the element of surprise. Give it a couple of days.”

  The Khasari leader pointed to the rebel who just spoke. “Oi, what did you just tell your friend?”

  “I said our noble Karzarki bretheren offer them clemency, and that we should repay your kindness one day. Now I have civilian things to do, so piss off.” Despite their tough talking, Rhen realised that they still left their weapons in the grass. They could say whatever they wanted, but they knew where real power resided. They vanished into the woods as though they were never here. It was the first time Rhen had seen rebels. He expected to meet some much further east, and not this close to Mhir.

  Yaren laughed. “I mean, it’s better they are content to kill just your appetite, though. I was a little nervous just now.”

  Reilek reappeared from the tavern with some smoked pork which he placed amongst their horses’ satchels, a flask of something alcoholic, no doubt, and a bit of bread, which he chucked to Yaren. “Did I miss something?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” said one of the Khasari who decided they needed to lean against the fence for a bit.

  “Right, well in that case let us be off.” He mounted his horse and Yaren passed him his bow to sling over his shoulder.

  “Don’t worry,” said Reilek to the Khasari, expecting the suspicion, “I’m a hunter. May have even hunted a few of your own prey, too. Could add a few more if you’ve got the gold.” He smiled and then turned to Rhen and Yaren. “After you.” Rhen politely nodded to the Khasari as he nudged his horse forward. The Khasari made no motion to stop them. Perhaps, thought Rhen, the three of them travelling like this might have warranted at least a quick discussion with the Khasari, were it not for the rebels stealing the attention.

  And so, they left the tavern, leading the horses off the road and into the forest.

  “A Karzarki, are you, Yaren?” Rhen jeered once they were out of earshot.

  “I guess after listening to you prattle on for years, boy, my ears picked up on your accent. But you can keep your Sin delusions on the far side of the Desari, thank you.” Rhen only smiled in response and decided he wouldn’t jest any further. It was entering territory they rarely discussed, and he didn’t want to offend.

  As Rhen suspected, the forest wasn’t nearly as bad as Reilek had suggested. True, there was limited visibility from the trees that grew larger and larger as they ventured further into the forest, but the ground was even, and the horses remained sure of foot. A chorus of animals maintained the ambience that Rhen had grown accustomed to on his solo travels the past few months. Birds sang their songs hig
h up in the canopy, insects buzzed loudly, laying their claim as the dominant force of the forest.

  He had spent most of his time in this part of Cerenea, though a bit further afield, in a not so lush landscape. This was by no means the first forest he’d encountered, but it did belittle the other trees who huddled together and had the gall to call themselves a forest. He would like to return here one day, he thought, among the trees whose roots were likely the deepest in all Cerenea, planted by the Goddess herself.

  A few hours later of riding and chafed legs, they came across the river. The mighty Togris that once was a highway between Euphyria’s Citadels. His father’s maps had always shown it to be the biggest river in all Cerenea, having started all the way up in the Myrian Mountains, and it certainly looked the part. It was wide enough to make even the most enthusiastic swimmer reconsider their hobby.

  It also occurred to Rhen that there was no way they would be afforded a crossing. Having told Yaren as much, with a simple ‘uhh’, they began following the river upstream until they could find a ford to cross safely. Well, safer than here. Rhen had his doubts.

  The map his father gave him did not come with the knowledge that the local people had. It did not, for example, indicate where potential fords were, or where the river was most angry or calm. All it showed was the enormity of its course, the dominant river of the land, its mark on Cerenea. Though, after the Conquest, the four Younger brothers had grown as strangers, so really, who knew what was hiding up there, in the northern wilds of Tyrellia or beyond Mishval’s Schism, in Yalea Aranth. His father had never travelled to the northern wilds, but it was a monstrous river regardless.

  It was always said the Togris River showed its fury in the peak of summer, but it was now late of autumn, and the current had waned. The Euphyrians, Yaren had told him, believed the Togris was the embodiment of The Wrath – her tears flooded the river, the raging currents her fury. Fortunately for them, however, an easy crossing had been afforded today. The ford was still much too wide to be called ‘narrow’ or ‘safe’, but the depth appeared shallow enough that the horses would not stress.

  They dismounted and began to coerce them into stepping into the river. Though it was calm, it was deeper than Rhen initially thought, still three feet deep in its shallowest part, and the horses seemed slightly unsure of themselves. Yaren took the lead, stroking his horse’s face, calming its nerves. The horse reciprocated by slowly walking into the river, following its master, one step at a time. After seeing it wasn’t nearly as bad as they thought, the other two horses were persuaded and began to follow suit.

  As Rhen was about to enter the river, suddenly Reilek stopped him. “Quiet. I hear something. Don’t move.”

  Rhen turned towards Reilek slowly. He silently picked up his bow. Yaren had heard his warning and stopped mid stream. From the far side of the river emerged about ten men, all dressed in a black uniform that Rhen did not recognise. They too were armed with bows at their side.

  Reilek took a few steps back behind his horse and notched an arrow. Rhen could hear the sinew of the bow being drawn. Rhen looked up to the men across the stream to see if they had seen Reilek draw, but they still had their bows at their side. He had never seen Reilek use a bow, but he was certain that he knew what he was doing, and true to Rhen’s expectations, his arrow flew straight and true, finding its mark. A true marksman.

  Yaren fell with nothing more than a grunt of protest.

  Without betraying a wisp of emotion, Reilek notched a second arrow, and said quietly to Rhen who had turned around in a flurry of emotions that were all vying for control of his body, “A Karzarki shall never wield the Dawn Shield. Maleca ten Yelu uona.”

  Thinking quickly, with preservation having won over the other emotions momentarily, Rhen shouted the first thing he could think of that would extend his life if only for an instant, “The map is false! I memorised the tablet - if you kill me, you will never find it!”

  His heart was pounding, still expecting an arrow to pierce it any second. He looked at Reilek, who lowered his bow, taken aback. Rhen had guess right – he wanted the prize for himself and needed the map. And now, with it being false, now he needed a guide. Reilek took a moment to regain himself, running hand his over his face, down his beard. He cursed under his breath. Yaren was right – the boy was smarter than he let on. And look where it got him. Reilek walked past Rhen, who had braced for impact, to where the slain Yaren lay face down in the river. He rolled Yaren’s body over unceremoniously and loosened the sheathe holding Yaren’s sword from his waist. Blood ran the river red.

  Though only one of few, it was Yaren’s most prized possession. Without unsheathing it from its scabbard, beautifully adorned in its own way, Reilek grabbed it by its tip. He admired it for a second, for it was, even by Khasari standards, a beautiful weapon. It was worth a small fortune and was the most expensive possession Yaren owned. He walked back to Rhen’s side of the river.

  Then, he swung the pommel into Rhen’s face.

  -------------------------------------

  The Younger brothers, upset at their perceived mistreatment at the hands of Galaces and Pyres, banded together and stood up to their Elders. With the anger and haste of misguided youth, they took from them The Gift that Yelia had given them all to share. Thus, did the Youngers end the reign of their benevolent brothers.

  Gavyn of Taurig – Histories

  Kiern

  He was a pitiful sight. Even without the mud and dried blood caked on his face, this Karzarki was a runt of a man. His hands and arms told him more than he needed to know. This Karzarki was no soldier; he’d have never drawn a bow in his life. His sword was more for display than actual combat. The soft hands of a lordling. Pathetic. His tanned skin implied significant time spent in the Euphyrian side of the Desari Desert. The weather of Karzark’s homeland was as dull and depressing as its citizenry.

  “Perhaps you hit him too hard, Reilek. I don’t think he was made for this kind of thing. He still hasn’t come to.” The Karzarki had remained slumped against the tree they had put him up against.

  Reilek made an exaggerated effort to appear wounded by his words. “You think I don’t know my own strength? I know exactly how hard I hit him. I hit him with the flat side, else you’d right, he’d not be waking up again this side of the afterlife. Give him some time and he’ll come around. He’s not as green as you think. He was certainly wilier than I gave him credit for. The fact he’s alive proves that. Besides,” he said, looking over at the Karzarki, “I may have swung a bit too hard with that sword. I wouldn’t blame him if he needed a bit of time. Bloody good piece of steel, that.”

  Kiern looked at the unconscious body, having not moved from where it fell. He was dressed for the road. He was wearing a simple leather jerkin over a plain green tunic. There was some sense about him. He wasn’t advertising his riches to any bandit who had a pair of working eyes.

  “So, what are we going to do with him? We can’t bury him here with the other one if what he said about the map being false is true.” That was of course, providing he was telling the truth and wasn’t lying to just to save his skin. There was a good chance of that being the case. Most people would dig their own grave to buy themselves a bit more time in the world of the living, than to face certain death. Nobody was ever prepared to meet the Goddess. Not when there was hope. You had to cling onto hope.

  Reilek wiped the sweat from his brow and continued digging the hole. The forest was uninhabited, but the river still had the company of fishermen and traders. It wasn’t worth dumping the body and leaving it to chance. “No, the Karzarki is not lying. Trust me on this.”

  Kiern bit his lip before saying, “If you say so, though his end will be the same. Perhaps he’s bought himself some time, but he will die in Euparyen as soon as he leads us to the Dawn Shield. May his blood satisfy the spirits of those Karzark has wronged.”

  Reilek smiled. “Aye, that it will. Yelia could do with a good sacrifice. But for now, we have u
se of him, and he needs to stay alive. If you can get him to take us to the Dawn Shield alive, I’ll give you the honour of making the offering yourself.”

  The subtle wriggling of words, lifting his head above his station, did not go unnoticed. It was no honour of his to give. I’ll do the deed before you have the chance to grant it.

  “Perhaps you’ve already killed him. Bastard’s still out.”

  Reilek stopped his shovelling with an exasperated look. “Kiern, the boy’s not dead. He just needs a bit more time. He’s tougher than he’ll have you believe. You’ll be sorry for underestimating a man. Always assume the worst a man can do to you. Your life will depend on it one day.”

  And even though I had assumed the worst in you last night, Reilek, if you were my foe, I would still be dead.

  “Well you can give him some time, I’m not going to carry him. He’s yours.”

  Kiern picked up a small piece of bark he had spotted on the ground and threw it at the Karzarki. He stirred, leaning his head back, hitting the trunk. His eyes suddenly awoke in a flash of pain.

  “Oh-ho, he lives. You were right Reilek, my apologies.”

  The bloodied Karzarki took a few moments to gather his wits before he attempted to stand up. His left cheek was heavily bruised, accompanied by some mild swelling, possibly fractured. Kiern put a boot on the Karzarki’s shoulder and pushed him back down.

  “M’lord. Please, take a seat.”

  Pain was furiously hammering his skull; the way the Karzarki was nursing his head made that much clear. It seemed as if he had just come to his senses. He looked around and saw Reilek, shouting something in the harsh Karzarki tongue that Kiern hadn't heard before. Kis’Azani.

  Reilek seemed to understand though. "No, I am not Kis'Azani. One would need to be a Khasari for that. And to be a Khasari, one would need to be a Karzarki which, praise Yelia, I am also not."

  Reilek lent against a nearby tree, taking a break from his digging. The lordling maintained his look of outrage as he noticed the hole.