Gods and Heroes- Rise of Fire

by Brendan Wright

  Atillus exited through one of the smaller entrances on the opposite side to the bridge. There were plenty of farms in the area along the river, as the land was fairly fertile, but he wasn't interested in the farms and hopefully wouldn't encounter any of the patrolling guards mentioned by the soldier who’d let him out of the city. Once he was out of eyesight of the entrance, he let go of the small Tarsi spell he’d been holding in place to change his face. The magic of the Tarsi was fascinating, and incredibly difficult to use; but he picked up a few things from his teacher and was able to put together a small handful of spells when the need arose.

  He ventured away from Omatus, heading East towards where the river opened into the ocean. There were many small trading boats and fishing boats that strayed into the massive river, heading to and from Tarsium or the North-eastern coast of Omas; Atillus knew he'd find one he could board to get north quickly. He managed to fit quite a bit of gold in his carry pack, so travel would be fairly easy in the short term. And once he got where he wanted to go, gold would be far less important to him.

  After several hours of walking, Atillus spotted a small village on the edge of the water. It looked like a brief stopping point for small ships; there were two small piers, one building that seemed to be a general store, and perhaps the smallest inn Atillus had ever seen. There were a handful of temporary trading stalls as well. He could see that both docks were in use at the moment, a small fishing skiff tied to one and a medium sized barge at the other.

  As he approached the tiny settlement, he constructed the Tarsi spell he used before, but this time altered the face to that of an old man. He used his right forefinger to draw ancient Tarsi symbols on the palm of his left hand, fingers splayed wide and straight as arrows. Each symbol, after being drawn, left its shape on his palm, pale and raised like an old scar. When the word was spelled out, the symbols merged together and peeled off his skin. In his hands it grew and shifted into the shape of a disembodied face. Without a skull to give it shape and muscles to move it, it looked pathetic and empty; almost comical in its lack of realism. But Atillus knew once the spell anchored to his face, it was utterly believable.

  He pressed it against his face and felt it set itself into his skin. It was an odd feeling; one he didn’t think he’d ever be able to accurately describe to someone who'd never felt it themselves.

  The fishing skiff was no help to him; it was only good for a tiny crew and wouldn't take passengers besides. But the barge looked as though ferrying travellers was a large part of its purpose. Atillus wandered over to the Shenza woman standing at the boarding ramp. She glanced intently at him for the barest of moments, and he could see her studying his body, his movements and his face for signs of threat. He expected this; the Shenza were intelligent and pragmatic warriors, and never underestimated potential opponents. His spell was incredibly effective, however, and he was hunching his back and shoulders and affecting a slight limp. Only a Tarsi specifically looking for active spells would be able to tell something was amiss, and Atillus was yet to spot any Tarsi people. His first destination was Tarsium however, and so he was going to need to remove his spell before it was spotted there.

  "Greetings, elder. Where are you travelling?" The Shenza woman asked. Although she dismissed him as no threat, she maintained respect for him.

  "Greetings, Daishen. I am making for Tarsium. Is there a place for me on your barge?"

  The woman smiled, though it looked slightly sad to Atillus. "I'm no Daishen, though I thank you for the compliment. I'm more of a Zuudshen, if truth be told." She laughed lightly, but there was sadness behind that too.

  Ah, thought Atillus, Zuudshen – an outsider. Either exiled or left of her own accord. He nodded slightly, but kept his face blank in that vaguely uncomprehending way he'd done his whole life. Play stupid, and you will slip beneath your opponent's notice. He didn’t expect to fight this warrior, but he needed to be prepared for battle wherever he went from now on. She noticed he apparently didn't understand the term she used, but let it go.

  "We are heading for Tarsium, but we still need to make a trip down the Alpheus to trade with the farmers. You are welcome to board with us now of course, though we will be stopping here again before heading to Tarsium if you'd prefer to stay here."

  Atillus thought the risk of heading back down the river, even with his disguise, was far too great. He could only hold the magic in place for a certain amount of time before the spell started disintegrating, and continually renewing the spell would cost him far too much magic. Besides, if they were travelling all the way back along the Alpheus, the trip would be at least a week each way; the river was massive, and they would be stopping to trade. The Shenza woman took his silence as genuine uncertainty, and leaned in to whisper to him.

  "To be honest, it would be cheaper and far more restful for you to stay here a while anyway."

  He smiled in what he hoped was a grateful expression, nodding. "I believe I will stay here, then. Thank you for your honesty." She nodded back and gave him a gentle, and surprisingly beautiful, smile; there was no sadness hidden there this time.

  He didn't end up staying at the tiny inn for two weeks after all; three days after he arrived, a new ship docked to pick up passengers on its way to Tarsium. Atillus was a little regretful he wouldn't get to travel with the Shenza warrior he spoke to; she seemed an honourable person and he would have liked to spend more time with her. But there was no room for sentimentality and no time to make friends; he needed to keep moving at every opportunity.

  Atillus spent most of the three days holed up in the tiny room at the inn, mostly so he wouldn't need to keep the disguise in place. But he also found the privacy peaceful; the innkeepers were respectful of their guests and he wasn't bothered, except when invited to meals.

  The first time they had knocked on his door, he scrambled to his feet and grabbed his travel cloak, throwing it over his head, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. There was no time to cast the Tarsi disguise spell. But the older man left the door closed and said in a raised but gentle voice "Meals are being served in the main room if you're hungry!" and moved on to the next door.

  He had breathed a ragged sigh of relief, realised he'd drawn two of the symbols onto his left palm out of pure instinct, and finished the spell. With the disguise in place, Atillus went down the narrow, groaning stairs and into the cramped main room. The meal was good; fresh fish brought in from the many fishing boats that docked in the small village, and soft brown bread baked at the inn itself. He ate as much as he could, savouring the fresh food, knowing he would be surviving on salted and dried foods while he travelled. After his meal, he set out to briefly explore the tiny market stalls lined up along the docks. He was always looking for potentially useful items and opportunities.

  He found a bag of Tarsi oranges and a hunting knife of black Shenza steel; he thought it too risky to carry weapons in the pack he brought from Omatus, as he knew the guards would search him. The gold he was able to wrap in his bedroll, but almost everything else he packed was clothing, dried and salted food, and camping supplies. The top layer, which the guards obviously saw first, was a rich looking tunic and some meaningless gold and silver trinkets that decorated Atillus' quarters. He never cared for them, not even for their value, but they helped sell his story to the guards on his exit from the city, and since they hadn't taken the valuable things as a bribe, he could sell them. This tiny place was no proper market, however; he would need to wait until Tarsium to sell his wares.

  Near the end of the first day, a large group of Omati Royal Soldiers marched into the tiny village. Atillus was carrying his purchases back to the inn when he saw them. It took almost all of his considerable willpower not to react more strongly than a normal old man might. The soldiers split up and started questioning every person they came into contact with. One made eye contact with Atillus and headed straight for him. Atillus gave a nervous smile, trying to keep up his innocent old man act. The soldier gave a half-hearted smile ba
ck. There was no sympathy in that smile, but there was also no suspicion.

  "Greetings, old man," the soldier said with authority, though amiably enough, "we are here looking for a criminal at large, a very dangerous man named Atillus Argyris." The man held up a piece of parchment with Atillus' face sketched onto it in charcoal. The likeness was unsettling, and staring into his own face left Atillus suddenly feeling exposed under the false skin he was wearing. But he cleared his throat weakly and smiled nervously again, looking the soldier directly in the eyes.

  "I'm terribly sorry, son, I've not seen this man around these parts. Tell me though: is this the Atillus Argyris of the Noble Argyris family? Is he really a criminal?" With his arms underneath a large bag of oranges, he was able to hold the hunting knife unseen by the soldier, and if it was necessary he could draw it and drop the heavy bag within seconds.

  "Yes, the very same," replied the soldier, "and yes, he is a very dangerous criminal. He assassinated King Megalos and the Queen."

  Atillus feigned a look of shock and outrage. "The King and Queen are dead?"

  The soldier nodded solemnly and put a heavily armoured hand on Atillus' shoulder. He hesitated a little, staring into Atillus' eyes for a few seconds longer than Atillus thought was necessary. He tried the nervous smile again, and kept talking. People didn't like constant talkers. Atillus certainly didn't.

  "They have a few sons, don't they? Was it two or three? Do you think the next eldest will get the crown? I heard the sons fight a lot. I hope they don't fight over the crown. Maybe we could have joint Kings, eh? Wouldn't that be something to see? Two or three Kings at the same time, all brothers! Your job would be much harder I'd imagine, what if two Kings gave you two different orders? Who would you obey?"

  Halfway through his rambling, the soldier started looking uncomfortable. By the last few words, he was clearly ready to move on to a less annoying civilian. Atillus gave a quacking, creaking old man laugh and shook his head as though he just said the funniest thing he'd ever heard, while the soldier thanked him for his assistance and walked quickly away. Atillus turned and made his way as quickly as he could to the inn.

  Now, Atillus sat in a small cabin below decks in the ship on his way to Tarsium. He knew his father and the royal family would be sending soldiers after him, and he knew at least a few of them would be smart enough to head to Tarsium. It was the centre of Pandeia, both geographically and culturally. A massive melting pot of every culture of Pandeia, it was also the preferred destination of almost every criminal and outcast. There was a strict no violence policy and the laws of the other countries held no sway over the mysterious Tarsi. Anyone who broke their rule somehow disappeared within 24 hours, never seen again; and although Atillus learned many Tarsi secrets, he still had no clue as to how it was possible. What he did know was he needed to get to Tarsium to be safe. The Journey would take at least a week, but he was on a ship and moving, and as far as he knew there were no Royal Soldiers following him. So far, everything was going according to plan.

  Aella

  They travelled through the desert, heading north once again. It was getting close to summer, and the entire tribe knew what that meant; they were travelling to Sitharkos, the Heart of Sithares. Sitharkos was the gigantic volcano in the centre of Omas, and every year since Kerberos took control, at the height of summer, the tribe travelled to the volcano and celebrated the fires awakening within its depths. They climbed to the top, lit bonfires of their own and camped on a huge plateau near the vent. They looked for shapes in the giant plumes of smoke that rushed from the volcano, and took part in challenges and sparring matches. Aella loved being at Sitharkos, and loved the festival. When the volcano was active, being close to it made her feel as though her very soul was burning with limitless magic. The power it gave her was utterly intoxicating. She felt connected to every other member of the tribe too; the Heart of Sithares joined them all in Fire Magic, even the warriors with little or no real power.

  The already hot-blooded Thearans let their passions go wild during this festival of fire, and many newborn Thearan warriors were brought into the world nine months after the festival each year. Aella couldn’t help but think of Erasmus. She didn’t want children of her own, at least not yet; he did. Her own mother gave birth to her at seventeen years of age, which was not uncommon for Thearans, but Aella wasn’t comfortable with the idea of childbirth even at twenty-five years of age. It was a difficult conversation to have with someone who wanted children as badly as Erasmus did. She knew he would be a great father, and she thought she might be a good mother too, but she couldn't bring herself to bear children. Even worse, she couldn't properly explain why. Erasmus, as usual, was very understanding. He was frustrated, but he respected her choices and usually never pushed the idea on her.

  She wandered from her mother and caught up with Erasmus and Dakesh, who were walking with a small group of warriors. She laid a hand on Erasmus' arm when she fell in step beside him, and he smiled as he turned to her. Dakesh grunted at her in greeting; he was still not quite used to the constant travel, or the desert, and was breathing hard.

  The journey took at least a month; heading into the centre of the desert was far harder than travelling around the coast where Tarsius was located. They slowed their progress, though Dakesh still seemed to struggle. She supposed Shanaken was far easier to travel through. Her and Erasmus taught Dakesh all about survival in the desert. They taught him about Petrafyte, the plants that looked like rocks but had a soft juicy flesh which contained plenty of water. It tasted like dirt but was clean and refreshing. They taught him about the various species of lizards, snakes and spiders and how to prepare them for eating.

  They sparred together every day. Dakesh was a great fighter, and Aella enjoyed sparring with him more than anyone else in the tribe. One day, as she approached him to ask for another sparring match, she noticed him sitting by a campfire and practising Fire Magic. She paused.

  Kerberos hadn't yet led the new tribe members in his group prayer; she thought perhaps he was waiting for the Fire Festival. So how could Dakesh awaken the magic in himself? She sat next to him. He let the fireball in his hand go out, and smiled at her excitedly.

  "I'm getting better! The first night I could only conjure sparks, and that was only a week ago!"

  "How can you use Fire Magic?" She asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  "I prayed to Sithares," he said. He said it in a thoughtless, matter-of-fact way, like he was telling her the desert was dry. He focused on his hand again, and after a few seconds another fireball appeared. Aella decided one of the other warriors must have taught him the prayer, and she didn't pursue it any further. Dakesh was always pushing himself to be faster, stronger, and better, so it made sense that he would ask about Fire Magic before Kerberos taught him.

  A little while later, Aella was resting after a particularly brutal sparring match and eating at a campfire when Kerberos shouted over the camp-site. Many Thearans were training, and although the sounds of fighting were everywhere, Kerberos' voice thundered over the top of it all. Every warrior stopped instantly.

  "Shenza!"

  She looked up at the sudden shout and saw Dakesh sheath his sword and bow to their leader. They exchanged a few words she couldn't hear from her distance and then a crowd gathered quickly, cutting off her line of sight. They formed a circle around Dakesh and Kerberos; they were going to fight.

  Dakesh lasted longer than most against the giant tribe leader. He spent most of the battle trying desperately to dodge Kerberos' lightning fast attacks. The moment that shocked her was when Dakesh, while in mid air leaping away from Kerberos' lethal chain, threw an incredibly powerful fireball at Kerberos. It hit him squarely in the chest and he was flung to the ground. Every warrior gathered to watch went completely silent.

  Kerberos stood. He looked uninjured, and somehow he looked amused.

  "Well done, Thearan!" he said. The crowd cheered.

  "Very impressive. But be clear, you still wo
uld not have won were this a fight to the death."

  The crowd jeered and laughed at Dakesh, but he didn't seem to mind at all. He bowed to Kerberos, and the crowd dispersed.

  Dakesh became accustomed to travelling through the desert, and the journey to Sitharkos was far more pleasant for Aella now that she didn't have to teach him everything about survival. They reached the giant volcano after a month or so, and Aella could feel its energy well before they reached it. It was already heightening her power and her senses, making her feel like her power was limitless. When they were close enough, she couldn’t contain her excitement any longer, and ran to the sheer wall-like base.

  "We're here!" She laughed, placing her hand on the endless wall of black rock. Dakesh gave her an odd look, and she explained.

  "This place is where fire magic is strongest. It feels like home."

  Dakesh glanced up at the towering rock and back down at Aella. Erasmus walked over to them at the base of the mountain.

  "We are camping here tonight," he reported, "and we'll be climbing to the top with the first light."

  Dakesh look up once again.

  "We're going all the way to the top?"

  "We do every year at the height of the Summer season, when the sun sits directly above the mountain and the fires within it start to stir."

  Dakesh gaped at the mountain. "It's a volcano? And we're climbing to the top?"

  Aella and Erasmus laughed together, shaking their heads at Dakesh. He truly was from an entirely different world. She thought in that moment that were she to travel to Shanaken, she would look as much a fool as Dakesh did to them. Erasmus and Dakesh continued talking while Aella's mind wandered. Her hand was still placed against the smooth black rock of Sithares' Heart, and as she always did when she was this close, she felt as though the magic inside her was an extension of the volcano's unimaginable destructive power. As though they were one and the same. Ever since she’d been given the ancient Fire Blades by her mother, she felt like she was born to wield fire magic.