Gods and Heroes- Rise of Fire

by Brendan Wright

  Athanasius

  When they reached the Alpheus, they set up camp and Athan gave Kerberos space while he discussed his plans with his commanders. He was relieved; now that Aella was one of the commanders, he didn't want to be present for their meetings anyway. During the rest of the journey to the river, Athan was tasked with discreetly informing all of the commanders of Kerberos' plans for Omatus. Kerberos made a point of excluding Aella from this information, and Athan agreed with the decision wholeheartedly.

  With the camp set up, Athan prepared for the battle. He sharpened his sword, sparred with a few warriors, and practised his stealth while hunting. They wouldn't leave for another couple of days yet, and Athan took full advantage of the time.

  Finally, just before dawn on the third day, Athan, Kerberos, and eighteen other warriors left the camp. They travelled silently through the dark, and despite the still, dark air, he couldn't help feeling the rush of energy he always felt before a battle. Before long, however, it dissipated, leaving him feeling a little exhausted; Mara was still a day's walk from their camp.

  The small group walked in silence, stopping only to eat a cold midday meal; campfires would alert the people of Mara to their presence. There was no hunting or sparring. They carried nothing with them but a small supply of food and their weapons. They stayed within the cover of the trees as much as possible, but on the north side of the river the trees were more spread out, and they found themselves out in the open more often than not.

  The day passed in silence. Soft yellow grass masked the sound of their footsteps. Just as the sun started touching the horizon, Mara came into view. It was a sleepy little village, not a city at all. A high wall surrounded it, as with every city in Omas. But Mara's was made of wood. Most of the buildings were also built from wood. For a group of Thearans wielding Fire Magic, it would pose absolutely no challenge. Even twenty warriors was an overestimation for such a task. Athan was sure Kerberos could have killed the entire population and burned Mara to the ground on his own.

  In the discussions before they left their camp, Kerberos told his commanders and Athan they needn't fear any counter attack from the people of Mara. He advised the group before him now that they didn't need to bother with stealth once they reached the tiny city and the attack began. His confidence was infectious, quickly spreading through the small group until they were all grinning at his words. Kerberos' faith in Sithares was utterly unshakable. Athan felt invincible; Sithares was going to protect them.

  Mara sat right on the north bank of the Alpheus, where there was a small port for trading ships from Dymea, Omatus, and Tarsium. A small cluster of separate huts was spread along the bank close to the tiny city on either side.

  They stood out in the open; twenty Thearan warriors, watching the tiny city living its last day. There was no need to hide any more. Now they had reached their target, all that remained was burning it to the ground. Athan glanced at Kerberos. He was looking at Mara, but didn't seem to be seeing it. Athan couldn't read his expression at all. Finally, he turned to the group, gesturing towards Mara.

  "Go."

  Aella wasn't ordered to join the group attacking Mara, and for that she was grateful. She wasn't sure if Kerberos was being understanding of her objections or if he simply thought the task was beneath her skill level. Either way, she was glad to stay behind as the group left their camp. She knew there was no convincing Kerberos to leave the small city alone, so the best she could hope for was that they died quickly.

  Athan was one of the warriors chosen by Kerberos. He looked pleased to be carrying out a personal assignment from their leader. There was no hint of apprehension about killing non-combatants. Aella found herself recognising him less and less; he was almost a completely different person than when they were inseparable.

  Twenty warriors were chosen in total. Surprisingly, Kerberos decided to lead the attack himself. Aella was shocked at the group's small size; even considering the fact that Mara posed almost no military threat, twenty fighting against almost a thousand, with protective city walls between them and the Thearans, was not an easy battle to win. She thought about Kerberos' words the night before. We are to be protected in battle from now on, he said. What exactly did that protection mean? Did Athan already know? He wasn't present at the commander's meeting; but Aella had no way of knowing what the two spoke about in the privacy of Kerberos' tent.

  The small group left their camp before dawn on the third day. Aella sat by her campfire, though the fire was out, and watched them leave. They walked quietly, but Aella heard them perfectly in the silent darkness of the morning.

  Athan could die, she though suddenly. There was a little sadness, but not much, and she was shocked at herself. Of course she didn't want him dead; but the pleased smile he wore when Kerberos chose him for the attack slid into her heart like a cold dagger. He was becoming more like Kerberos.

  All Thearans were trained from very young to enjoy battle, and even Aella was the same; but to enjoy slaughter? To enjoy killing innocent people who couldn't even fight back? It wasn’t the Thearan way of life to revel in pointless slaughter. The only way to enjoy a battle was to be challenged, to be ready to give up your own life if your opponent was skilled enough to take it. These people weren't warriors; they were barely even farmers. Dymea, the largest farmland in all of Omas, was less than a day's march from Mara. The people of Mara barely even grew anything, instead relying on the trade and generosity of Dymea. They had only enough weaponry to defend themselves against the smallest wandering tribes. Against Fire Magic, they didn't stand a chance.

  It would take a day's walking for the group to reach Mara, and the tribe had been ordered to wait for them to return. Aella spent the time training and hunting, trying not to think about the small city being burned to the ground.

  Halfway through the third day, Kerberos and four warriors returned to camp, dishevelled and exhausted. Athanasius was not among them. Aella's stomach clenched into an iron ball, and her mind went slack and numb. It happened, she thought, too slowly; he's dead. Erasmus' hand slipped into her own. She barely felt it. The tribe was silent as the five survivors walked to Kerberos' tent.

  They stayed in the command tent for over an hour, and the tense, silent tribe could hear the occasional shout. Eventually, Kerberos emerged. The other four warriors stayed inside. Their leader walked to the centre of the camp, and without needing to be told, the tribe gathered around him. He started without ceremony, talking quietly and almost casually.

  "We cannot know Sithares' plans, or what role we are to play in the battle between Fire and Shadow. All we know is that we were promised protection. Still, regardless of promises, we are at the mercy of Sithares. If the Fire God wills it, we will die when it is our time."

  He looked around the group of warriors. There was a heavy, uncomfortable silence, broken only by the low rushing sound of the Alpheus nearby.

  "I admit, I did not expect this. We will stay here for a little while longer, and I will try to commune with Sithares again."

  "My lord?" a warrior spoke up. Kerberos turned to her and gestured for her to go on.

  "What of Mara? Is it burned?"

  Kerberos didn’t react for a moment. The entire tribe seemed to be holding their breath. Finally, he spoke.

  "Yes. I ordered the group to stay until Mara was reduced to ashes, even after they revealed their full strength. It is why five of us returned, instead of twenty."

  There was a sudden stirring at this. She heard anger in the group, and felt it herself; but nobody spoke up directly. Kerberos could have called off the attack before Athanasius died. Before any of them died. She felt sick. She wished she'd been chosen for the attack; she could have protected Athan, or at least pushed for retreat. She stared at Kerberos, funnelling the rage she felt at him into her soul and building an inferno within. She would not act on her rage; not yet. But she could feel her power growing with it, as though somehow rage alone was enough to create Fire Magic. Kerberos was looking arou
nd the group, calm and in control. He let the whispering continue. His gaze fell on Aella, and they stared into each other's eyes for a moment which felt like an eternity. She pictured his death, over and over again; tearing his throat out of his body with her bare hands, thrusting her Fire Blades into his heart and stomach, slashing his head off with one clean stroke. The tiniest hint of a smile touched his lips as she relentlessly murdered him in her mind; almost as though he knew what she was thinking.

  Try it, that smile seemed to say; I want you to try it.

  Later that night, Aella sat in a larger tent with several members from her original tribe. Helene was there, her comforting presence giving Aella strength. They were discussing Kerberos. The mood was tense and terrifying; they could be overheard at any time.

  "We need to leave this tribe," Aella whispered. Thankfully, she saw more than one warrior nodding in agreement. "Kerberos is putting us all in danger. Who knows what madness we'll be ordered into next! We're heading for Omatus; what if he orders us to attack the greatest city in history?"

  Her mother spoke up. "We should go back to Theara," she said, "We can take our tribe, and any other tribe who wishes it, and live the way the ancient Thearans did."

  Aella hadn't considered this, but the more she thought about it, the more right it felt. Others were nodding in agreement.

  "Spread the word around to our tribe. Be careful; no one loyal to Kerberos can know about this until we are ready."

  The next day, Kerberos called a meeting.

  "It has come to my attention that some of you-" he shot an unmistakably aggressive glance at Aella – "do not agree with the attack on Mara, or with what you may think will come next." The tribe was silent; no one moved or even breathed.

  "I wish to waylay your concerns; so I will tell you my plans. We are waiting for the warriors who were killed in the attack on Mara. I believe they will come back, and when they do, we will move on to Omatus and take the city for ourselves."

  Despite their fear of Kerberos, a huge number of the tribe shouted their disagreement. An argument started as those still loyal to Kerberos shouted back. Aella looked around, saw weapons being drawn, and her heart sank. This is what it would come to. She was prepared for a battle; Thearans always were. But she hoped to avoid it for as long as possible or try to leave their camp before it could happen.

  The attack started from Kerberos' side, and spread quickly. Aella noticed Kerberos wasn't attacking. He was searching the crowd, and at first she thought he was looking for her; but he had seen her while he was talking, and was looking elsewhere. She decided to focus her efforts on breaking off the battle as much as possible and getting her tribe away from Kerberos. They couldn't win this fight, even if she unleashed all of her powers. Although her entire tribe was on her side, plus a few dozen more warriors, they were outnumbered. She could give her tribe the chance to get away, however.

  She unsheathed her swords and drew as much magic as she could from them. Blocking and dodging, she moved to the centre of the fight, between the two groups. Fire swept over her body, and she focused it into a wave. It rose up between the two warring tribes, and she swept them both away from each other as hard and fast as she could. Kerberos' tribe went flying back towards the Alpheus, and her own were flung north towards the desert. She pushed for as long as she could; she was swept up in the gigantic wave as well, trying to maintain control as she was spun around in the flames. Knowing they could not be harmed by the fire, she pushed harder still, screaming with the effort.

  At some point, while the wave was still raging, her energy ran out, and she fell into numb white nothingness.

  Dakesh

  When Dakesh was told of Aella's coup, he realised how to regain Kerberos' favour. Betraying Aella made him feel sick, but Kerberos was their leader and his approval meant everything to Dakesh. He went straight to Kerberos' tent. The tribe's leader was sitting cross legged on the floor, eyes closed, wearing only a pair of hide pants. He was even more impressive without his weapons and armour, somehow.

  "Shenza." Kerberos spoke without opening his eyes. "You have something to tell me?"

  "There is a revolt planned. A certain group within our tribe want to leave, and they may be planning an att-"

  "Don't protect them by keeping their names silent, Dakesh," Kerberos growled, "I know very well who they are. Aella and her tribe have ever been troublesome. I hoped appointing her as one of my commanders would alleviate her concerns and endear me to her somewhat, but it seems she will never accept my rule."

  Dakesh remained standing by the tent's door, uncertain. After a tense few minutes of silence, Kerberos opened his eyes and stared directly into his own.

  "You have done well to tell me of their plans. Go back to your tent. I will call a meeting tomorrow, and we will resolve this in front of the whole tribe."

  Dakesh didn't sleep well that night. He couldn't escape the thought that he would be responsible for Aella's death.

  Atillus

  Months of travel brought them to the northern edge of Omas. They stood at the ancient bridge spanning the distance between Omas and Theara. Abandoned thousands of years before, Theara was now only home to lions; or so it was said. There was something in Theara that Atillus needed, however.

  During their travel, Atillus' tribe came across a couple of other small tribes. He killed their leaders and displayed his fire magic to them as he had the first time. They were absorbed into his tribe, and he now led almost four hundred warriors. They started calling him Son of Sithares. It was a name he didn’t discourage.

  He taught Sithares' prayer to each of his warriors, and once they all knew it, he led them in a group prayer. They knelt in the sand before him, and just as when he first said the words, the instant they finished they burst into roaring flame. There were some screams of surprise, but Atillus kept them under control, yelling over the sound of fire that they were touched by Sithares and would be more powerful than they ever imagined. When the fire was at its peak, he heard Sithares laughing.

  YES!

  It said. Its voice was much stronger now.

  I knew you would serve me well, Atillus. You will be greatly rewarded for this!

  Thank you, my lord. But this is only the beginning. I will bring you more followers, and I will burn everything that can be burned.

  Sithares' laughter rang in his head, loud and intense. And burning.

  Theara was desolate. Even the sparse trees and plants of the Omasi deserts looked lush in comparison. There was no life. Even the sand had dried up, leaving nothing but scorched, cracked rock. They travelled in silence. They were yet to see any lions, though they remained on alert. The air was still and suffocating, as if it too was unable to survive the barren land. Mountains covered the entire western side of the country, and the main path leading to the city itself was nestled up against their bases. The mountains were so steep and jagged that the warriors were following what felt like a series of cliff walls. To the east, a great flat desert stretched on for miles. On the horizon, a thin strip of darkness wavered, animated by the intense heat waves pouring from miles of cracked grey stone. Atillus knew what it was. The history books referred to it as the dead forest. Thousands upon thousands of dead black trees, so ancient they had turned to stone. It was said that once it was as lush and vibrant as the forests of Shanaken, but Sithares burned the life from it and turned Theara into a barren desert to teach the Thearans the power of fire.

  They trudged on through the desert. The heat they could handle; once touched by Sithares, heat and fire held no danger to Thearans. But the silence was brutal. The only sound they heard was their own footsteps stamping on the hard, baked stone. Once or twice a day they would stop and sit on the path, eating their dried charred meat and drinking what little water they carried. After six days, Atillus began to fear they wouldn’t make it to Theara before running out of rations. His warriors, who were now fanatically devoted to him, had no such doubts. The absolute, almost wild-eyed certainty on their
faces whenever they glanced at him made him a little uneasy. Did they know they were being used like tools to build a larger machine by Sithares' Right Hand? Atillus was certain they didn't. And while he didn't feel any guilt, the idea sat uncomfortably in his mind.

  Heading to Theara wasn’t the order of Sithares, as Atillus had told the Thearans; it was his own plan. He'd read scores of books on ancient Theara, and was certain he would find what he was looking for. He had to hope the city could provide at least some food and water; if it was as inhospitable as the desert, his tribe wouldn’t survive.

  On the ninth day, they ran out of food. The day after that, they ran into a much worse problem. One of Atillus' favourite warriors, Nomiki, saw it first.

  "Lion!" She screamed, drawing her sword and gesturing at the desert in front of them.

  The lion was absolutely massive. On all fours, its head was level with Atillus' chest. Its broad shoulders rippled with pure muscle, and at the end of each of its four legs, four sickeningly long claws protruded from its huge paws. Its head was almost as wide as Atillus' torso, and its black fangs were like something out of a nightmare. Cold, calculating red eyes assessed the warriors, and for a brief moment, locked onto Atillus' gaze. Its lips drew back and it let out a blood-freezing snarl.

  The Thearans closest to Nomiki followed her lead, drawing their weapons, and fanned out into a defence formation. Atillus roared over the sudden noise, his deep voice travelling to every ear in the tribe.

  "SPEARS, NOW!"

  The lion flew into motion, faster than he would have believed possible for an animal that huge. He barely finished the second word when four spears lanced over his head towards the massive beast. Two of them missed. One glanced off the lion’s broad back, doing no damage. The fourth thudded into the lion's neck, and the predator roared with fury. It didn't slow down. Atillus gathered some energy and launched the largest fireball he could muster at the lion. It was hit full in the face, and skidded to a halt. There was a cheer from the tribe, but the fire dissipated and they saw the lion was unharmed. It shook its head and blinked in a way that would have been comical were it not for the hiss and flash of fangs that came a second later. The lion leapt forward again, and without waiting for orders, the Thearans threw another volley of spears. One hit home in the animal's back, and the rest clattered uselessly along the stone ground. The lion kept running.