by Sean J Leith
“I swear to the damn gods, I’m gone from this insane rebellion as soon as I get the chance. This is a waste of my time, and people just end up dying everywhere I go! Maybe Domika is right—maybe I don’t belong here. I’m just a runt with no real purpose. I’ve had it with all of this. I hate all of you. Every single one of you!” She walked back to Lira. “Now do you see the consequences of not trying? Of having no confidence? You’d better watch yourself, or you’ll get yourself killed—or others might sacrifice themselves because of your shortcomings!”
Lira started to cry into her hands, but Kayden couldn’t have cared less. The others stood there like muddled cows.
Kayden took a flask out from her sack, carefully squatted, and scraped what ashes she could into it. I’m sorry, Ves. I’m so sorry…
She carefully picked up the skull and the few bones there were and carried them off. Kayden walked past the group, bumped into Lira, and caused her to fall. She could hear townspeople running to the lake to gather water to put out the flames. The moonlight lit her way back as the flames dissipated.
No one followed her, and she wanted it that way. She looked at the charred bones cradled in her arms, unable to stop the flow of tears. Vesper told her his family was buried at the crossroads, and thought she might bring them there, to have him rest with them. He made her feel like he was important, like she mattered. All of it was gone.
All she had left was his advice and his bones.
She arrived at Lira’s home. She picked the lock with ease, slipped inside, and gently placed the bones in a thin leather bag she had. She locked the bedroom door, changed out of her armor, and curled into a ball on Lira’s bed, clutching her scarves. She wanted to leave, she really did, but she was frozen, paralyzed by anger and fear. She felt her mind receding to what it once was, one enveloped by anger—the Shadow of Death. Her life in the north—something she promised to discard once she left for the western forests.
‘There’s no proof that you’re the Shadow of Death,’ Richard said to her. ‘But I want you to go west and do good there.’
He was wrong. I’m not good. I can’t handle this life. I bring death wherever I go. In Deurbin, in Solmarsh, in Orinas…it never ends. I’m better off being the agent of it, rather than trying to prevent it. She thought over and over how the battle could have gone differently, but she had been unconscious for most of it. She remembered Lira, Domika, and that other blonde idiot sitting around while Vesper protected them from the grotesque beast.
She hoped no one would come in, that everyone would stay away from her forever. Maybe she would be the Shadow of Death once more. She cried and cried, hating everyone and everything for what happened. Another person she cared about, dead before her eyes. She eventually cried herself to sleep, passing into a dream.
* * *
She awoke in a small, hard bed, in a room all-too familiar. The blue moonlight shone through the tiny window and illuminated the surroundings. She saw the old, rotted wood walls, a small wooden cabinet with her clothes, and the drawings in charcoal. There were three drawings: one of flower beds in front of a house, another with three people: one man, one woman, and one little girl with large, happy smiles, and the last was the warrior she always drew, standing and raising her blade in front of her allies in command. It was her room, ten years past.
No, not again.
A soft knock came to the door. Looking down, she realized she was the smaller, skinnier, eight-year old version of herself. Her mom and dad entered the room, with tears in their eyes. They were just like she remembered: her mom with pale skin and blonde hair, and her father was human with dark olive skin, dark, chestnut brown hair, and a thick beard that she pulled as a baby.
“Azra, honey, we have to talk to you,” her mom said. “We love you very much. We do. I’m sorry, but we must go. We’ll be back, we will.” Azra. The name she told no one. Not since then.
Her father looked to his wife with sullen eyes. “We may not be. I’m so sorry. We have to tell you that we do this because we love you.” He looked down, kissing Kayden on the forehead. “It’s for your safety. We’ll always love you.”
He got up as Kayden’s mom kissed her and caressed her cheek. “You’ll be safe. Don’t answer the door, honey. Please, trust us.” Her mom broke into tears as they carefully closed her door.
Kayden uncontrollably broke into tears. “Don’t go—don’t—please—” Kayden muttered, sniffling, and gasping for air. She put her face into her hands. “Don’t leave me.” She couldn’t bear to open her eyes again. She waited what felt like an eternity, wishing the pain would stop. Wishing they would come back. She feared looking up from her hands, but she had to see if it was over. Hoping they came back to her, her eyes stung from closing them so hard.
The dream changed when she looked up. She could smell it. She stood upon the dirty, sandy road in the desert town of Kwora. Her feet were bare and covered in sand, cold from the desert night. She went to town to search for them. It was a week later, she remembered. The warm light flew upon her. The flickering reds, oranges, and yellows caused her tears to shine brightly in the glow. The smell filled her nostrils, and it wouldn’t go away—the smell of burning flesh. The old inn was lit aflame. All of the residents escaped safely. Each tenant and bystander looked in horror to the rafters of the porch overhang. “Who are they?” one voice asked.
“I have no idea. I’ve never seen them before.”
Her parents’ bodies each hung from a noose, tied to the inn rafters, an image she never forgot. There were more, so many additional bodies since her nightmares began. Tonight, there was a new one, an old, thin man wearing a violet robe lit aflame. Even without the flesh, she knew it was him. She closed her eyes so tightly they hurt. She felt her chest burn from smoke before she blinked them open again.
* * *
Kayden awoke from her dream with a fierce gasp. She could barely catch her breath. The birds were chirping outside. By the angle of the light, it was just after sunrise. Her door was still closed, bed undisturbed. Kayden supposed they let her be. She needed time to think, in a place that was quiet from others.
Out the window, the waters were gentle. The sun sat on the horizon warming the town, and the cool breeze sifted through. She felt the need to sit by the water. She waited until her breath slowed before going outside. When she felt calm enough, Kayden tiptoed across the room, and carefully cracked the door open.
Mags was asleep on his bedroll. Domika was not present, probably in the other room. Lira was in the chair where Vesper slept previously, close to Kayden’s door. Surprisingly, her wound was wrapped and healed. Perhaps she found another healer or did it herself. She was curled into a ball on the chair wearing a new, long white linen robe. Kayden wasn’t ready to talk to anyone just yet; she was still furious. With feathered footsteps, she crept out of the house.
The streets were busy; a few townsfolk ran by her, with slats of wood, some dragging trolleys with large bricks, others with buckets for mortar. A haze still hung over the center of town from the fire the night before. Where the markings were, townsfolk chipped away at the multitude of broken stones, reformed walls, and worked together to rebuild the damaged homes. The markings disappeared with Valikar. Their voices were tremulous, but they spoke of rumors of the night before. Most wouldn’t have seen the battle, if any.
“I heard a group of travellers killed it,” one man said.
“No way, I heard a god stepped in and destroyed it himself!”
“I heard an all-powerful Wizard slayed the beast!”
With the damaged buildings and the burned bodies of men and women it was hard not to talk about, Kayden supposed. A powerful wizard, hiding behind a guise of self-consciousness, she thought. Vesper said everyone had a ceiling of power in magic, but rarely mentioned his own. He had to know what he was capable of. The red orb, the spell so destructive it melted and banished Valikar to whence it came. She worried about the vile beast’s final words. If Valikar’s threat was real, in t
ime it would bring its fury back when the vile star falls...
Kayden came to the water a bit north of the pier, looking east. The wind blew softly through her thick, mousey hair. Seagulls and prinobirds flew over the water with their black and plum feathered wings, cawing happily. Sometimes Kayden wished she were a bird, free to fly wherever she wanted. She could go to the Aggaroth Mountains, to Krot’ahk’s valley, the Risen Isles—anywhere. She felt the need to flee to the Isles. It was neutral territory, and she had never been before. Jirah told her that refugees fled there, yet it was difficult to get a boat, as security was tight. Kayden could hide. She knew how to go anywhere undetected, if she wanted to.
That’s why I’m the Shadow of Death. It was a horrid name, a title she no longer wanted to hear. The public named her that, whether they knew who it was or not. There were suspicions once she was arrested, but there was no evidence to convict her.
She took the flask of ashes out from her bag and stood it up in the sand in front of her. Maybe I can save you now, Vesper had said. His power was so vast. Before the battle, Vesper’s strength was minimal, conjuring only small fires and spells. Intense emotion and confidence in oneself revealed a Wizard’s true power, and his had shown through the night previous. She was angry, so angry that he sat in a pile of charred bones and ashes. Worst of all, he died protecting her. If she hadn’t gotten knocked unconscious, he may have been alive. Vesper died to protect her, and Kayden couldn’t forget it. Wouldn’t.
He lies above the tavern now. I did this to him.
She felt caught up in something much more than a miniscule rebellion. What was that beast? Kayden wondered. It claimed to be a harbinger of a god, coming to sweep the land into chaos. Who would they tell? That drake, Fillion, a sickly old man sitting on the throne in Loughran, orchestrated it. He hired the disgusting torturer to send people to Solmarsh, to feed the demon. But why? Kayden’s mind was muddled at the thought. A time of gods was long past, and Lornak was supposed to be dead. She wondered what kind of web she was caught in. Is there even a way out? She wondered if she could run now, after all that happened. Kayden wasn’t needed here. They wouldn’t have someone insulting them all day anymore. All I do is yell at them.
Kayden sat and pondered her purpose in the rebellion for what seemed like hours. Wondering what use she had, and whether a runt really belonged with such a group. She brought death wherever she went, and the last thing they needed was a bara marai. A born killer.
A loud plop sounded from beside her. Mags found her at the waters. Probably came to comfort her. She didn’t need comfort. “What do you want?” she grumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Mags didn’t look at her. He instead looked to the waters as she did and crossed his legs. “Have you ever heard the name Gallan Foldrin?” he asked.
She had, actually. A name from over a hundred years past, yet it hadn’t been forgotten there. It was a disgraced name, never forgotten by the icestone cities. “The man who loved a Devil,” she replied weakly.
“He was my father,” Mags said. He sighed quickly, and he never sighed. His plate gauntlets trembled and his eyes gave a slight wince. “My mother was different from other Devils. She may have been a devil, but she really loved him. She refused to kill him, as was their way. They kept their love a secret and got her with child—me.”
Mags looked to the sky with a wince, fidgeting with his nails. “Years later, they were found out, and my father was imprisoned and tried for blasphemy. He denounced the existence of a child, denounced the existence of his love for my mother,” Mags looked to the ground. After an extended moment, he said, “They found him guilty and executed him. My own father denounced my very existence. I was angry. Uncontrollably angry. I gave in to what the people thought of my race.”
Kayden shuffled her feet and brought her knees in closer. “I heard the powers of darkness killed the ones who tried him, calling it the ‘Grim One.’”
“The Grim One.” Mags repeated her words in his hoarse tone. “They did. I did. My father denounced me, but I hated them for taking him away. I killed every individual who denounced my father at the trial.” A long, somber pause followed. “I was twelve.”
Kayden didn’t say a word, only listened. His tone was filled with pain, something she had not heard in his voice before.
“I hated them. I became what they wanted me to be.”
I want to be more than I’m told, Mags told Jirah once.
Does he seek redemption? Kayden wondered. She did. That’s why she came to the west.
“My name is Talon Foldrin,” he said after a long sigh. “I hate my name because it resembles the people I belong to, and the one who denounced me to the world.” He paused for a drawn silence. “I hate what I am.”
The wind passed over them from the water, and the sound of waves was relaxing. Mags’s neck muscles were tight, and his brow furrowed. It was clear he hadn’t told anyone that before. Why now, why me? Kayden wondered.
“We all make mistakes. It is up to us to redeem ourselves. Sir Vesper left us on his own will. He cared for you and wished to make up for a mistake he made by saving our lives. He was correct. There was no alternative.”
No other way. Her heart broke at the thought. “What was that spell?” Kayden blurted out. She hadn’t heard of it or seen it before.
“As the command implies, it is a spell of total annihilation. Only a few gifted individuals know the spell, and it’s only taught to those of sound mind and of great power. The last man who was known to learn it was Sandro Chora, the head magister in Orinas. He’s been dead for several years.”
She already knew his history. The moment they shared.
“He was afraid of his power. In his final moments, he chose to use it to protect, the very reason why it was taught to him. Your connection with him drove him to believe in himself.”
Kayden let the information process slowly. She waited a time to speak again, thinking about Mags’ past. She wondered what else he had been through. He blamed himself for what he was. Just like how I blame myself. “You shouldn’t hate what you are.”
“I am half a minion of Hell, and half a man who denounces his own son.”
Kayden bit her lip and looked over to him for a moment and watched his somber gaze scan the horizon. She felt something different about his father, and thought of an answer other than a betrayal. Why would he denounce his son if he loved the mother? A Half-Devil may have been executed under such blasphemy. “You’re half a man of love and order, and half a man who protects his son.”
Mags turned his head toward her. “What do you mean?”
Kayden just shrugged. “The worst of Hell is the evil, the best is the striving for order—and you said it yourself, your mother loved rather than strived for lust. Your father may not have hated you. Maybe he protected you from them by lying.” Kayden placed her hand on his. “The best of both worlds.”
With a lengthy sigh, he said, “Maybe so.”
Another long silence followed. She hoped she could help him. Kayden hated what she caused but couldn’t hate what she was. But she hated what she became the night prior.
She yelled at her best friend with words meant for herself. She was helpless, unable to do anything to save Vesper. She picked up the ashes in her hand and examined the flask. She blamed everyone else for not doing anything, but they were as helpless as she was. Lira may have divine power, but everyone had a ceiling of strength.
“When you left, she cried until she fell asleep,” Mags added. “Krogar, the individual you clearly disliked, came to her home and healed up her wound.” He was simply giving her the facts, as if he knew not to say he told her so.
Kayden rubbed her shins nervously. She touched her scarves, thinking of her parents. They would stay with her when she was sad, and Lira reminded her of that. Kayden finally remembered her harsh words. She blamed Lira for her own shortcomings.
Lira’s mind was already filled with self-conscious thoughts. She wasn’t forced
into adulthood as Kayden had been, yet she knew social convention better than Kayden did. “I didn’t mean to yell at her.”
“But you did,” Mags said bluntly. He didn’t fluff his words. Kayden respected it, barely. She didn’t like being told what she already knew. “Even after she, not us, forced Asheron to escape. After watched her friends and brother die.”
A pain swelled within the pit of her stomach. Self-disgust. Lira experienced something Kayden knew all too well—and she yelled at her selfishly, putting her feelings in front of others. “I don’t belong here, Mags. It’s like Dom says—I’m a runt. All I do is cause problems and yell at everyone.”
Mags raised an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t be self-defeating,” he said. “I don’t want you to go.”
She lightly gripped his hand. His red eyes widened. “I know, but sometimes people just don’t belong.”
Quick footsteps ran up behind them. Kayden quickly released her hand and brought them both back to her shins.
Domika panted and bent over, one arm in a sling.
“Where have you guys been? Lira ran off! Some monk crawled into the town all bloody, she healed him like it was nothing, and ran south! Zaedor chased after her, but she was too fast! Something about a crimson knight!”
Kayden shot to her feet. Mags did the same. “Shit, that’s gotta be Malakai. He must be at the monastery!” She reasoned that Zaedor must have been the other random individual they met last night.
“What monastery? Where?” Domika questioned.
“South. Orinde. Her dad’s a monk there, idiot!” Kayden bolted to the southern city gate, running at full speed. “C’mon!” Magnus fell behind wearing his rusty full plate. She passed bloodied bodies of robed men with the mark of Orinde sewed into the breast. Kayden paid them no mind. Her breath escaped, but she pressed on. She passed knights—one, two, three—with arrows in the neck, through the eye, in the heart. Many more had armor blackened by burns and faces melted by flame—or so it seemed.