Gods and Heroes- Rise of Fire

by Brendan Wright

  They sat next to each other at the huge table without so much as a glance towards Thorinos. The feasts hosted by noble families in Omatus were notoriously exclusive and strictly invite-only; Thorinos certainly didn’t recall inviting this strange, silent warrior. Thearans were savages who lived out in the desert and dressed in animal skins. This warrior didn’t belong in the Argyris family hall. Thearans had no use other than warfare and violence. Thorinos hired them as mercenaries and guards, but otherwise had no respect for their kind and no wish to be associated with them.

  He stood, and was pleased by the speed with which the large room turned quiet. His arms addressed the room at large, but his eyes never left Atillus'.

  "I'm glad you could join us, Atillus," he boomed, keeping a mocking ring in his voice, "and with cheerful company besides!"

  The crowd was quick to laugh, but where their fast silence at his standing satisfied him, their eager laughter served only to grate on his nerves. He would have much preferred to resolve this privately, but Atillus publicly insulted his father by bringing an uninvited guest; It needed to be paid for publicly. Atillus glanced at his golden-eyed friend, and the Thearan warrior returned the look with what appeared to be reassurance. Thorinos saw their hands touch in an unmistakeably loving way, and his stomach churned. Atillus faced his father, staring directly into his eyes. For the first time, Thorinos saw a glimpse of something in those eyes, something which scared him. He saw power, intelligence, and scariest of all, he saw confidence. It was a half-step down from outright defiance. Recovering from the brief moment of inexplicable fear he felt, Thorinos' emotions turned once more to anger. He addressed Atillus again.

  "But, as cheerful as he seems-" there was a brief but annoying spatter of laughter again, which Thorinos continued talking over, "-I don't believe your... friend... was invited."

  The laughter died as quickly as it started. The feast hall was stunningly quiet now. Not even the soft sound of chewing rose from the captivated audience. He stared at Atillus, and his son stared back, taunting him. Then, disconcertingly, Atillus smiled and that damned newfound confidence grew, lighting his face up and making him seem much older than his fifteen years.

  "But he was invited, father. I invited him. There is plenty of room, and plenty of food. Or would you not extend your hospitality to those who give their friendship to your own son?"

  Atillus and his Thearan friend touched hands once more, not even trying to hide it. Something snapped in Thorinos.

  "Is it friendship he gives you, boy?" he sneered, "Or does he offer more than that behind closed doors?"

  That wiped the confidence off his arrogant son's face. A few gasps punctuated the silence engulfing the hall. Thorinos found the satisfaction of landing a strike against Atillus' honour didn't quite outweigh the fury he felt, nor his disgust at seeing their hands touch. His son's reaction was more than enough to prove the two were lovers, and the public manner in which they were revealed meant it would be talked about through all of Omatus. Thorinos would be a joke to the other noble families; Atillus single-handedly crushed his father's reputation in a matter of minutes. Instead of appearing regretful, or beaten, or ashamed, or any of the other reactions Thorinos might have expected, Atillus looked furious.

  "He gives me happiness, father. Something you've never bothered to offer."

  Thorinos shook with rage. Atillus looked equally livid, and they stood staring at each other for what must have been at least a full minute. He shook his head slightly, and let out a soft, ragged breath which he hoped no one close enough to hear mistook for weakness.

  "Let him give you happiness then; but I won't tolerate this filth in my hall. You've sullied the Argyris name. Get out."

  He gestured dismissively toward the main doors, turning his back on Atillus and looking instead towards the armed guards flanking the walls. In the Argyris feast hall, the only weapons allowed to be carried were held by the guards and by the head of the family, Thorinos himself. It made easy work of removing unwanted and unruly guests.

  "Guards, escort them out."

  A group of about a dozen guards drew their swords and strode to where Atillus was seated. Atillus and his feral lover were standing by the time the guards arrived, and let themselves be led towards the doors. A few metres from the entrance, Thorinos raised his voice and addressed Atillus again:

  "I hoped you might eventually grow into a real man, Atillus. I can see now how wrong I was. I see I don't have three sons after all. You've chosen to live instead as my daughter; and with a boy-loving Thearan savage as your lover!"

  Thorinos kept his tone as light as possible, and the crowd laughed heartily in response.

  "I should be glad. I never wanted you as my son. I never wanted to give you the crown."

  The Thearan warrior started towards Thorinos' seat, and several of the guards moved immediately to block his way. After that, everything seemed to happen at once.

  Atillus stepped forward and called out, "Amares, no!", and was restrained by two of the guards.

  One of the guards shouted at Amares to halt. Several of the other guards raised their swords in a ready stance. Amares took another two steps before one of the guards thrust their sword at his chest. He swatted the blade away almost lazily with one hand, and swept his other in a deadly, blindingly fast arc at the guard's throat. He tore out a handful of flesh like it was nothing, and the man died clutching his gaping throat and gurgling while Amares moved on. The next two guards attacked at the same time, and the Thearan ducked and swerved with liquid grace, avoiding both blades easily. One of the guards recovered quickly and attacked a second time with a thrust towards Amares' neck. Amares twisted around the attack and grabbed the guard's wrist, pulling him close. Using the guard's own momentum, he smashed his fist into the man's face and pulled his arm hard at the same time, and a loud cracking sound exploded from the Guard's neck. As he fell, Amares snatched the sword from his lifeless fingers.

  The third guard attacked again, but Amares was armed now and parried the guard's thrust before sweeping his blade clean through the soldier's neck in one blow. Before his severed head hit the ground, Amares sliced the throat of another Omati soldier and took another step towards Thorinos.

  Guests were screaming and scrambling away from the deadly Thearan warrior, but Thorinos was fiercely proud to see his guards were still pressing the attack. Two of them circled around their opponent and another three faced him head on, spaced out and ready. Amares seemed to know who would move before the attacks came, and danced around and between the five blades surrounding him effortlessly. His own blade danced too, ringing as it clashed with his opponent's swords.

  One guard fell with his throat cut, and another toppled and screamed as his leg was hacked off at the knee. Amares grunted as one of the guards finally landed a blow, slicing through his left bicep and upper back, and a few seconds later another guard thrust his sword into the Thearan's right side, under the ribcage. Amares let out a rage-filled, animalistic growl and spun on his heel towards the guard who landed the blow, slashing savagely through the man's head. It made a sickening wet crunch sound that carried clearly across the hall, twisting Thorinos' stomach.

  One of the guards now behind Amares swung low, slicing deeply into the warrior's calf, and had the foresight to jump backwards to avoid a retaliatory strike from Amares. The guard next to him wasn't so lucky. His stomach opened in a disturbingly deep cut, spilling his insides onto the smooth stone floor. His screaming continued for far too long, piercing the entire hall. Several of the guests started vomiting and a few fainted, crashing listlessly to the floor.

  The first soldier's luck ran out. Amares singled him out, and relentlessly pursued him, ignoring the other guards in his fury. He slashed chaotically at the man, completely missing once and hitting his opponent's blade twice before it shattered into several pieces. He kept slashing, and the next few blows hit flesh. He cut through the guard's wrist, hacked into his shoulder, his other arm, his neck and finally br
ought the sword down through the soldier's face. He slashed at the man a few more times even as he fell, and while he was still attacking the dead man, two of the surviving guards thrust their blades into Amares' back, piercing deep. He turned and swept his sword in a deadly arc, catching one of the soldier's in a shallow cut to his face, and missing the second entirely. The first guard screamed and dropped his sword, bringing his hands to his face and dropping to his knees. The second guard stepped closer to Amares and stabbed him in the gut.

  Amares grunted, dropped his sword, and grabbed the guard's head. Before he could wrestle out of the big man's grip, Amares hooked his fingers in the guard's mouth and wrenched his lower jaw completely off his face. The guard tried to scream but instead made a high pitched gurgling sound and sprayed blood all over Amares' face. As Amares collapsed to his knees, his head lowering, the dead guard fell to the floor.

  Thorinos drew his sword and rushed to the fallen Thearan. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Atillus struggling with the guards. The guards looked like they were actually having trouble keeping him in check; his son was large for his age, but Thorinos knew he'd never had any combat training, and through his fury he felt a moment of doubt. The guards shouldn’t be struggling so much with a mere child, he thought. Then he saw something which almost stopped his rush towards Amares. The Thearan warrior glanced at Atillus with visible effort, and shook his head weakly. Atillus reacted immediately, calming down and allowing the guards control over him again, though he was weeping and begging for mercy for the feral warrior. It only served to feed Thorinos' rage.

  "You will never be head of this family, boy. No matter what happens, when our family regains the crown again, you will never be King. You don't deserve the Argyris name, and you will never be a real man in my eyes."

  He gestured with the blade of his sword at Amares, and his voice filled with venom.

  "This is what filth like him deserve, Atillus," he snarled at his son, "if you show your face in this hall again, I promise you will meet the same fate."

  Without hesitating, he swept his sword up and down in one graceful move, sheering clean through Amares' neck.

  Aella

  They travelled far more often now. As nomads, Thearans spent a fair amount of time marching through the desert, and their camps were built to be quickly and easily taken down. But before Kerberos became their leader, travel was slow and Aella's tribe spent days or even weeks in the same place, training, hunting and talking. Now, however, they walked almost every day, and only set up camp to sleep and eat. Omas was a gigantic country, the vast majority of it merciless desert, so even at this pace they would take a long time to get anywhere worth going.

  They headed south, for Tarsius, to trade and replenish supplies. Aella hated Tarsius; it was far too busy. Thousands of people packed into a tiny trading settlement, talking and shouting and shoving. Just the thought of it made her shudder. Most of the time she stayed in the camp while the others ventured in to trade for what they needed; Thearan tribes set up camp outside the walls of Tarsius while smaller groups travelled into the settlement itself. Quite often, there would be more than one tribe camped outside, and fights often broke out. But within the walls of Tarsius, there were no fights. Even rival tribe leaders could sit shoulder to shoulder at a tavern and share a meal without shedding blood. Now, of course, Kerberos' tribe had grown far too large to invite challenge, and even if there were other tribes camped outside the settlement walls, they would keep their distance from the camp-site of the Son of Sithares.

  Several of Kerberos' most devout followers referred to him by that name, and it still made her uncomfortable. He was incredibly powerful with Fire Magic, there was no doubt; but the son of a God? She thought he either invented the name himself or his fanatics started it, and he encouraged them. Either way, it struck her as self-aggrandising and boastful, and a man such as Kerberos shouldn’t have needed to rely on a title to show his power.

  She was walking with her mother in companionable silence. They didn't spend quite as much time with each other now as they used to, though they still saw each other most days. Helene was as quiet as she was, and Aella found comfort in their shared silences. They still talked about battle, and Fire Magic, and the heroes of Old Theara; but for now, she was happy not talking. The walk was too hard for talking, anyway. The grey sand this far out in the desert was soft and smooth, and the dunes caved under their feet like water. Climbing a dune took a huge amount of strength and stamina, and they were endless.

  Aella's mind turned to their destination once again. Tarsius was on the other side of the country, and on the other side of the Omasi Mountains. The mountains ran from the north east all the way to the south west, cutting through the desert like a jagged saw blade. Puncturing the very centre of the mountain range and sitting squarely in the centre of Omas itself was the gigantic volcano, Sitharkos; known by the Thearans as the Heart of Sithares. They would most likely not be passing nearby the volcano, but they would have to cross the mountains to get to Tarsius.

  Although it was difficult, Aella enjoyed travelling over the mountains a great deal. There was more life, for one thing. Trees and animals were far more common on the slopes of the mountains, and even fresh water. Aella loved climbing, and loved the view of Omas from up high. From the top of the southern slopes, the massive walls and the royal palace of Omatus were visible on the horizon.

  Some tribes actually lived permanently in the mountain ranges, staying out of the desert in caves and small clearings. They were fierce fighters and were very protective of their territory, which was odd for the nomadic Thearans. She couldn’t imagine living in one place for that long. They also had to share their territory with a species of particularly vicious cat called the Omasi Sand Panther. Sand Panthers, despite their name, lived almost exclusively in rocky territory, and were especially common throughout the Omasi Mountains. They were notorious killers, known for killing for sport as well as food. Aella had several terrifying memories of her old tribe fending off Sand Panther attacks while travelling the mountains. Sand panthers always killed at least a handful of Thearans before either being killed themselves or disappearing into the mountains like silky black shadows.

  She wasn’t particularly worried about Sand Panthers any more, however; not only was their tribe thousands strong and still slowly growing, they wielded Fire Magic. The panthers hated fire. She was mostly looking forward to climbing again, and maybe spending some more time with her mother in the mountains as they did when she was little. They used to climb to the highest point they could reach and sit for hours, talking and pointing out distant landmarks. It was on one of these mountain peaks that Helene first told her the story of Roxane, the Fire Mage who destroyed the entire army of Omatus. They sat facing Omatus, and her mother pointed at the city and the desert as she told the story, describing the movements of the ancient warriors. Aella was spellbound, picturing the battle vividly as her mother gestured and spoke.

  The journey from where they were now to Tarsius would take months, and though the tribe was moving at a brutal pace, she desperately hoped she would have time to stop in the mountains, even briefly. Somehow, she doubted her hopes would change anything.

  Two weeks later, they reached the foot of the first mountain. They camped for a night before starting the climb. Aella set her tent up next to her mother, and they built a campfire together.

  "How long has it been since we last climbed the mountains?" her mother asked. She glanced up; Helene looked pensive, and a little sad. She cast her mind back, and nodded when she found the memory.

  "Before Kerberos. More than ten years." Most tribes visited Tarsius at least once a year, especially the smaller ones. Aella's tribe used to as well, before they joined the massive tribe belonging to the 'Son of Sithares'. Now, however, they were large enough that they could raid the settled cities of Omas without fear of defeat. They'd been raiding the cities on the western coast for the last thirteen years, travelling up and down consistently fr
om one city to the next. The desert on that side of the country stretched all the way to the ocean; it didn’t become greener as Omatus and Tarsius did to the south, so their journey was just as difficult as travelling through the middle of the desert.

  "I would very much like to climb with you again, little warrior," Helene said quietly, "and look out over Omas." Aella nodded, taking her mother's hand in her own.

  "I would like that too." Helene smiled, and they talked for a while about climbing. Her mother's smile always made her happy. They talked until the sun started reaching the horizon, then hunted together. This close to the mountains, there was far more food; they killed three Diamondbacks and two Omasi Huntsmans. The spiders were less common in the mountains than on the south east coast, and slightly smaller than the coastal variety, but there were enough of them to hunt.

  Aella took the lead; Helene was nowhere near as stealthy as she was. Her mother was a great shot with a bow, however, and once Aella spotted their prey, her mother shot it from at least thirty metres behind her. They arrived back at their campfire shortly after the sun set and invited Natasa, Timothea, and Erasmus to share their hunt. The five of them ate and spoke amiably until all the food was gone, and Aella went to sleep happy, full and glad that her mother felt the same.

  They reached the opposite side of the mountains three weeks later; and just as she hoped, Aella and Helene had time enough to climb to a high peak overlooking the south of Omas. The climb itself felt alien to her, but she dismissed it as a consequence of time; she hadn't done this in more than a decade. But as soon as they reached a wide shelf of stone, flat except for a large boulder on the outer edge, she suddenly remembered being here as though it were only the day before. They sat on the flat stone for a few moments, regaining their breath. Then Helene stood and moved to the edge, leaping lightly up onto the boulder and sitting right on the precipice. Aella joined her, and once again she stared out at the enormous desert with her mother, feeling that same sense of wonder. The wind whistled around them, but at this height there was no stinging sand blown with it, and the breeze was refreshing on her sweating skin.