Baldaron turned his open palm skyward and lifted his arm, commanding the souls and their new bodies to reveal themselves. One by one, an army of corpses emerged into open air for the first time in nearly three decades, their long-decayed bodies now animated through Baldaron’s magic. They came in many shapes and sizes, some dressed by simple garb like cloaks, tunics, and leather armor, while others were covered by steel mail that bore the emblem of the royal family upon their chest plates. One trait shared by all, though, was the bleached bones that were visible where no clothing or armor lay, including the skulls, many of which seemed to still wear the agonized expression of the man when he was slain.
The corpses rose from the ground like puppets on strings, only moving because of the master who gave them life. When they landed on their feet, they became as still as statues, waiting silently for Baldaron’s next command.
Baldaron stared at the waves of Tordalian soldiers and desert bandits who fought and died in The Battle of the Red Sands. Their numbers were nearly as great as the army that he had marched with since leaving Caldeya, but they still required some fitting before they would serve as Wraithlings.
“Uncle, dress them, and arm them,” Baldaron said, never even turning his eyes to Golric.
“Of course, my nephew,” Golric hastily replied. The old sorcerer seemed delighted by the opportunity to utilize his own Scourge. He pointed his fingers toward the risen army, directing bolts of crimson light that sped at each reanimated body. The lights landed within their skeletonized hands and granted each one a weapon—a sword, an axe, a spiked mace, a lance, among other hideously-shaped varieties.
Golric then directed bolts of his Scourge to spill over the corpses, themselves. The crimson light enveloped them, shimmering and bending as it brought them new forms. When the light dispersed, those soldiers stood encapsulated by black armor like the rest of the Wraithlings in Baldaron’s army, their bones and skulls completely hidden beneath the dark mail.
Baldaron turned back to face Tauroc. He took a few moments to look into the eyes of every last member of the Rockclaw Tribe. The Baroso stared at the newly conjured army with still, grim expressions. “I will let you go free, now,” Baldaron began. “But you will not make your journey back to the mountains alone. Destrala and her sisters will accompany you, as will a battalion of these soldiers that I have just brought forth from the earth. They will ensure that you do not stray off your path, and that you make straight for your ridges, where, for your own well-being, you will remain for the rest of your existence. They will also serve to remind you of this—wherever the dead lie, I can raise them. I can create an army large enough to cover an entire countryside. This kingdom will eventually fall beneath my hand, and there is no force, whether it be Spiritcasters, the Hokara children and their allies, or the Rockclaw Tribe, that can ever hope to stop me. Those who challenge me, those who interfere with my conquest—I will eradicate them all.”
Baldaron’s sunken eyes bore into Tauroc, and the Rockclaw Chieftain said nothing in reply.
19
It came to Alamor suddenly, just like it had the time before when he was within the depths of the ocean. The faint echo of a distant, powerful magic reached out, whispering to him, encouraging him onward to its location. Images flashed in his mind—the sprawling desert, a citadel hewn into the face of a rocky landmass, and just briefly, the one who directed the magic to him.
Somewhere out there, Raissa continued to guide him along in their quest.
This was the fourth day that Alamor had sensed Raissa’s presence, even when she stood many miles away from him. Ever since that afternoon while the Onda pulled his party through the ocean, and he received the first direct link from Raissa’s Serenity, he had recognized a vague trace of her nearby. Although he did not always see visions like he had just now, he had still felt her Serenity in the distance. It was as if she continuously called out to him, gradually bringing them closer and closer to reuniting.
Alamor looked to the sky. There was not a single cloud hanging above the desert, and the sun continued its merciless attack as it had every day since he and his companions emerged from the ocean. On that day, Alamor had been relieved to tread on dry land again, after spending nearly two days being pulled through the water by Sharq and the other Onda scouts. Now, there was a part of him that wished to march back to the beaches and dive into the ocean to escape the Arid Reaches’ unrelenting heat.
While that temptation grew louder as the days passed by, it was immediately silenced when he saw the vision of Raissa.
Alamor glanced back at his companions, surprised to see that they lagged a considerable distance behind him; Raissa’s magical presence must have spurred him to move faster than he even realized. He stopped and decided to wait for them to catch up, setting down his sword, shield, and his crimson armor that he had been carrying on his back. He had shed his armor shortly into the journey across the desert, understanding that it would become extremely hot on the inside, an oven that threatened to roast his entire body.
Tiroku and Rawner also chose to remove their armor, while Tridian did the same for his long, thick coat. The Prince of Tordale carried his coat, his spear, as well as Tiroku’s charcoal breastplate, insisting that the Champion of Light should not be burdened by its weight. Even with the number of items he shouldered during their trek, the Prince of Tordale maintained a determined pace the entire time, only trailing behind Alamor along the way.
Hinton and Pauma saw a much greater struggle. The Bachus were understandably not at home in the desert, where their thick fur made the scorching heat almost unbearable for them. They were only able to continue alongside Alamor and the others because of the ray hide sacks that the Onda provided their group. The outside of the ray hides contained a layer of the creatures’ glimmering scales, which the Onda explained were capable of reflecting sunlight. By draping the ray hide sacks over themselves like cloaks, Hinton and Pauma were able to ward off some of the desert’s grueling heat.
Still, they had to be careful. The reflective side of the sacks became extremely hot after being exposed to the sun, and could only do so much in protecting the Bachus from the heat. Hinton and Pauma regularly strode near the back of their party, walking along at a much slower pace as they endured the sweltering conditions.
“Hey, Hinton, Pauma!” Alamor called out to them. “How are you two holding up back there?”
Panting with his tongue dangling out of his mouth, Hinton lifted his head and smiled ahead at Alamor. “We’ll be all right, lad! We don’t plan on letting this desert beat us any time soon!”
Pauma also managed to smile through her weary expression. “I know we can’t keep pace with the rest of you lot, but if we Bachus can manage to survive working in the forges you saw back at the caverns, then we’ll be able to make it through this sandy stretch of land. We just have to take it one step at a time!”
Alamor smiled in response to the Bachus’ determination. Of all the realms in Tordale, the Arid Reaches was probably the least suited to their survival. Yet in spite of what must have been an immense amount of discomfort for them, Hinton and Pauma continued to press on, never once uttering a complaint or asking for the rest of their group to slow down.
Rawner echoed the sentiment as he, Tiroku, and Tridian finally approached Alamor. “They’re a tough couple of little beasts,” the big man said, grinning. “I’m not going to lie, at first I was worried that we might have to leave them behind, but they’re holding up darn well out here. A lot better than I expected.”
Tiroku bent his gaze upward toward the sun. “Luckily for them, they’ve endured the worst of today’s heat. It won’t be more than a couple of hours until the sun starts to set and the land begins to cool down for the evening.”
Rawner’s expression bent in a mock grimace. “Thanks for reminding me about the nights around here,” The big man could not withhold a laugh before continuing. “I swear, there’s been nights in the middle of winter that were warmer than these he
re in the desert. What a weird part of the kingdom this is—hot enough to melt rocks during the day, and cold enough at night to freeze them solid!”
Alamor rolled his eyes at Rawner’s exaggeration. “Well, at least it gives some relief to Hinton and Pauma. For what they have to put up with during our marches in the daytime, I’m actually glad that the weather becomes more suitable for them at night.”
Tridian wiped the sweat from his brow, and let out a deep breath. “I almost look forward to whenever night comes. This heat has been especially difficult to deal with today.”
Tiroku looked at the Prince of Tordale through the corner of his eye. “It might not be so hard on you if you did not have to carry such a heavy load.”
“I’m not giving your armor back, Tiroku,” Tridian hastily replied. “I told you, there’s no reason for you to have that burden when I can manage it.”
Alamor grinned and held out his sword and shield. “While you’re at it, do you mind holding onto these for me?”
Tridian nearly laughed. “Don’t mistake my generosity for foolishness.”
By then, Hinton and Pauma finally joined them, the Bachus panting like a pair of dogs who had just been on a long run. “Thanks for waiting for us, boys,” Hinton said. “I know I’ve told you this about a thousand times now, but we really appreciate you not minding us taking our sweet time while we walk.”
Hinton may not have actually been exaggerating when he said that he told them that a thousand times. “You two are doing just fine,” Alamor told the Bachus. He turned and looked out into the distance. “Besides, it’s like Tiroku just said to us—it won’t be long until the sun starts to go down. Even better, I don’t think we have too many more days of this left. I got another message from Raissa just now. We’re getting closer to her.”
If there were any signs of weariness on his companions’ faces, Alamor saw them vanish once he mentioned that he made contact with Raissa. “You saw my sister again?” Tridian asked. “Is she safe?”
Alamor nodded. “She seems to be in no danger.”
“When exactly did you make contact with her?” Tiroku asked.
“Only a few minutes ago,” Alamor answered. “It was definitely the strongest presence I’ve felt from her since we’ve been in the desert. Maybe it was just because she summoned the most Serenity for it, but I think it’s because the distance between us is nowhere near as great as it was before. I think we’re nearing her.”
“Great things to hear all around!” Pauma exclaimed, her eyes glowing. “I sure can’t wait until we get to see her again!”
Alamor acknowledged Pauma with a nod, but he quickly turned his gaze to Tiroku. His brow furrowed as he looked at the Champion of Light. “I likely already know the answer to this, but I’m guessing that you didn’t sense this message from Raissa, either?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
Tiroku’s expression was stoic as he shook his head. “Not in the way that you did. I admit, I detected a faint semblance of Serenity, just as I did before when we were out in the ocean and the Princess first contacted you, but not clear enough that I could discern who summoned it, or where it came from. Even if I did, my Serenity is not capable of witnessing the images you must have seen this time.”
Hinton brimmed with excitement as he looked up at Alamor. “Is he right, lad? Did you see more visions this time?”
“I did,” Alamor confirmed. “Raissa showed me where she is, again. This time, it looked like she was within the outer rim of the desert, where the land wasn’t as flat and sandy. I saw huge ridges running off into the horizon, like a chain of mountains. One of the biggest had a great opening that seemed to be carved out by someone long ago. It had pillars on its sides, and steps leading up to it.”
“The Sandstone Mausoleum,” Tiroku said, a statement more than a suggestion.
Alamor nodded—it was the only possible explanation. “There were more people with her this time, too,” Alamor continued. “Joth and Dayneth were still with her, but so were many others I did not recognize. They were Aesur. They had blue skin and white feathers just like Dayneth, and they wore armor similar to hers. At least, most of them did. There was one who was dressed differently. She seemed to be Raissa’s age. She was definitely an Aesur, but she wore a dress instead of armor. Her hair was still white, but it had blue streaks in it.”
“That could be Dayneth’s younger sister, Elisstriss,” Tridian suddenly spoke up.
Everyone turned to the Prince of Tordale. All but Alamor had looks of surprise in their features.
“How can you know that?” Rawner asked.
“Dayneth told me about her once or twice when I was younger,” Tridian explained. “For as long as I’ve known Dayneth, she’s always been reluctant to speak about her family, but as children, my sister and I were so curious about her past that we always begged her to tell us about her previous life. On occasion, she told us about the younger sister who she left behind in Skyscape. Dayneth did not like to think of herself as any kind of leader to her people because of the task she took up with my family, so she always referred to her sister as ‘the true daughter of the Highfeather’. According to Dayneth, Elisstriss is almost as old as Raissa, and from a young age has harbored tremendous magic that she can use to control the air around her.”
Alamor thought back to the day several weeks ago as he rode to Tirth, where Dayneth divulged that she had a younger sister, and that her sister was a mighty Airtamer. Since finding out that day that the Aesur could manipulate the air through their magic, he continued to wonder what unthinkable feats were possible through that kind of power.
That wonder only lasted for a few moments, though, before he noticed the shadow that appeared in Tiroku’s rigid expression.
“If all of this is true that there are other Aesur with Princess Raissa, then this would be the first time in hundreds of years that such a group has descended from Skyscape,” Tiroku said, his words ominous. “With the daughter of their leader, no less.”
Hinton’s eyebrows perked. “Hundreds of years? Boy, and I thought we Bachus had holed ourselves up from the rest of the world for too long…”
“What could possibly have brought them back down to the rest of the kingdom?” Rawner asked aloud. His eyes bounced about their group, but he was only met with silence.
The hush over their party lingered. In his head, Alamor was certain that each of them had come to the same conclusion—whatever had made Elisstriss and the other Aesur return to the surface world, it was probably something to fear.
Tridian was the first of them to finally find any words. “We only have one way to find out, though, and that’s to keep moving,” the Prince of Tordale said.
“Well, we won’t keep you from that!” Hinton enthusiastically announced as he and Pauma set their pace forward. “On we go!”
Alamor and the others followed behind the two Bachus, and their party resumed their long march across the desert. Alamor once more placed himself ahead of his companions, his mind constantly staying alert for Raissa’s magical signal.
He never mentioned it to the others, but Alamor felt it very strange the way that he led them through the Arid Reaches. In truth, he guided them based on what was largely one great hunch—merely a guess on his part as to where Raissa actually was. He knew the place where she projected her Serenity to him, but if he had been asked to indicate it on any kind of map, let alone explain the route on how to get to it, he would be at a complete loss.
Their route was essentially being decided on a whim, Alamor realized. He had no idea which way they would take the next day, or even in the next hour, for that matter. Each step he took was only being determined at that very moment, based on the tiny glimpses of Serenity that called out to him from afar. For all that he knew, he might be leading his companions along a much longer, and more arduous path than was necessary. He could not know for certain.
In that way, he felt a great deal of pressure accompany his uncertainty. He understood tha
t the vital quest to acquire the Radia—to save Tordale from Baldaron—now depended solely on his ability to follow Raissa’s magical signal and reunite their parties. It was a feat he had never attempted until just a few days ago. In fact, going as far back to his earliest days training with the Dawnwatch, he had never even thought of using his Serenity in this manner. He was still only beginning to understand the potential behind the magic that rested within him, and it was his sole responsibility to successfully perform an act that not even a mighty Spiritcaster like Tiroku could accomplish.
Alamor could not fail at this, because if at any moment he was unable to sense Raissa’s power, he would be utterly lost. There was no hope to find her or the Sandstone Mausoleum without that persistent beacon of Serenity drawing him toward her. He and the others would be doomed to aimlessly wander the treacherous desert until it finally claimed their lives.
Although that grim thought tarried in a deep corner of his mind, refusing to grant him total peace, Alamor fiercely withstood its taunts. He continued to tell himself that neither he, nor Raissa, would falter. He believed that she would stay strong enough to continue projecting her magical presence to him, and that he had grown so much as a Spiritcaster in just the last few days that he would continue to support his end of the link between he and Raissa.
He could not be entirely sure what fate awaited him, but he had to trust that he and Raissa would succeed together.
* * * * *
They traveled over the desert for a few more hours that day. Just like Tiroku surmised earlier, the intense heat waned as the afternoon gave way to dusk. This made the march far less trying on Hinton and Pauma, but it also was the beginning of yet another cold night that threatened to chill Alamor, Tiroku, Rawner, and Tridian to the bone.
Their group finally came upon a spot in the desert that offered some relief. The last remnants of a pond sat within the sands, a muddy bowl that held just enough water to make a small pool. Sights like these had been common during Alamor’s time in the desert. In another era, before Scourge’s rampage, the water sources would have been bountiful, their life-giving touch sprouting verdant vegetation all around them. Those pockets of water that withstood the calamity now fought on to remain in this unnatural environment, where they were surrounded by seas of sand and rock. It was as though they endured for no other purpose than to perchance be the saving grace for what living thing strolled past them in a march across the barren land.
A Gleaming Path Page 24