by Sean J Leith
Was this her doing? Kayden wondered. She ran, and ran, and ran… Until she finally saw the monastery. Kayden saw that blond knight, clunking away in his armor, running slowly. She passed him with ease, breathing heavily and wheezing. Domika and Mags were a hundred feet behind. She saw Lira in the distance, bow-in-hand. She ran like the wind through the large, wooden monastery door.
Kayden could barely see a knight clad in spiked crimson plate, nearly identical to the dark-armored Asheron they met in combat over a month previous. He was versed in blood magic, which made him especially deadly and sadistic. He held a long blade encrusted with dark rubies in black settings to the neck of a man with dark skin.
The door closed just in time for Kayden to be shut out. She shook and pounded it, to no avail. It was unlocked, but the door wouldn’t budge; it was either pressed closed, or magically forced. Her heart was threatening to bust out of her chest, it felt.
“Give my father back!” she heard Lira scream.
“Oh, my dear girl, I’m afraid that’s not possible. These fools have helped the Scions of Fire, so they deserve nothing less than a painful death. You have intervened in our plans, and you have something I need, as well. Where is the rest of your little group?” a gravelly voice replied.
Kayden frantically looked at her surroundings. The broad temple was made of limestone, fifty feet high with tall inch-deep steps above the door leading to the roof. Stone pillars ran all along the outside. Kayden saw many skylights before the door closed, hoping they could be of use for entry. The windows were no more than a few inches wide; Kayden couldn’t fit through those.
“Please, I don’t know. Please just let him go!” Lira yelled.
Mags and the others arrived on the scene. Kayden jumped for the first stair above the large door, but she was two feet too short. The stone was smooth, and there was nothing to grab onto.
“Mags, throw me up!” she yelled.
“Pardon?” he said, shocked.
“I said throw me the hell up there!” Kayden commanded, pointing to the thin stairs.
He grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up. She threw herself up with her arms, climbing nimbly from stair to stair. It reminded her of her escapes in Orinas, but that was a different time, a different woman. She found a skylight on the roof. It was a small window less than a foot wide—they all were. She peered in and saw Malakai looming over Lira’s father, who was bloodied and breathing heavily. Lira was not, surprisingly. She wasn’t hurt, or even out of breath. Lira’s eyes were wide and teeth bared; every muscle in her body tightened. Kayden could only see anger in her eyes.
“Give him back, now!” she yelled.
“No,” Malakai said. He sounded eerily similar to his brother. “I think I might kill him. I don’t need him. I just need something from you, something you stole last night—and one of your little friends.”
Something she stole? Kayden thought. Lira hadn’t stolen a thing. Though there was the strange impact that hit Lira after she shackled the demon, where the souls and orb shot toward her…
Mags and the blond soldier called from beyond the door.
“Go ahead, girl. Let them in,” Malakai chuckled.
“Go to hell,” Lira growled.
Why is he asking her? Kayden thought. Is she closing them in? Lira, what are you doing?
Four knights surrounded Lira as her bow was readied.
The bodies of monks surrounded them. Their green robes were covered with slashes of crimson, and punctures filled with pools of their lifeblood. The limestone floor was stained crimson. Blood dripped from Malakai’s sword, echoing through the temple.
“Maybe I’ll kill you, too. You’ve killed some of my knights, caught my brother off guard—I think I’ll drain your life. Then you will beg for death as you watch your father die.” Malakai outstretched his hand toward her. A red mist led from his fingertips to her chest. Lira groaned in agony and dropped her bow.
“No, Lira!” Kayden screamed. “You can’t die, you can’t! You have to fight! Let them in, do something! Anything!” She slammed her hand onto the rough stone temple roof until her hand couldn’t feel the pain anymore. She regretted not bringing her daggers.
“Let—my father—go!” Lira growled.
“What are you going to do?” Malakai gave a mocking laugh. His hand pulsed with energy, causing Lira to groan in agony. “Since you temporarily disabled my brother, this task falls to me. I do enjoy my work, and no pathetic maid will stop me.” Malakai raised his blade for the final strike. “Any last words for him?”
Lira fell on her hands and knees and muttered quiet words under her breath, and Kayden barely made them out. Mortanai Shala, Lira whispered between cries—Kayden had no clue of what it meant. Mortanai Shala, Mortanai Shala, Mortanai Shala…
Malakai stepped toward Lira with his blood-covered blade. “What’s that, girl?” With a laugh, he said, “I can’t hear you.”
Lira’s voice raised to a hiss through her teeth. “Mortanai,” she said. She rose her head to stare at the vile knight with eyes brighter than the sun. “Shala.” Lira screeched louder than Kayden ever heard; it was eerie and unnatural, shrill and deafening. Her whole body shone with blinding light. An immense shockwave flew out and blew Kayden back from the skylight, causing her to tumble off the roof.
Screams of desperation and absolute agony echoed from the monastery—and they weren’t Lira’s.
Kayden caught herself on the last set of thin stairs, but then fell to the ground on her back, causing her to grunt in pain. The doors blew open. Mags, Domika, and the blond knight were all thrown back twenty feet to the ground. Kayden sat up, shook her head, and looked to see Lira still on her hands and knees, breathing heavily. Blood dripped from her nose to the stone floor, joining the stains already present.
The four knights that surrounded her were on the ground, charred as if aflame for hours. Malakai staggered back screaming in pain. His crimson armor was half-melted. He ripped his helmet off and spoke an incantation to draw the life from the dead around him—but the wound refused to heal. He cursed under his breath.
Lira’s father lay there, too, injured and burned, but not as badly as the others. His breaths were weak—but he was alive.
“Wh—what the hell are you, witch?” Malakai roared. “You will pay for this, girl! With more lives than you know!” He ripped a black crystal from a small bag at his side, crushed it, and vanished. All he left behind was a sinister cackle.
“Father!” Lira yelled, running to his side.
Kayden heard him weakly mutter a few words to her, and she responded, but Kayden couldn’t hear details. What the hell was that? Is this Lira’s power? It seemed as such. Seeing the result of Lira’s spell, she recalled what those words meant—Mortanai Shala—the light that sears flesh. Perhaps weak healing was not Lira’s ceiling.
Perhaps there was more.
Much more.
Lira let out soft cries as her father closed his eyes. Kayden approached with caution. She passed the charred bodies of the knights and the sliced corpses of the monks, smelling burned blood. She placed her hand gently on Lira’s shoulder, and Lira didn’t move.
She held her father tightly, slowly attempting to calm herself. “I’m sorry, Kayden, I’m so sorry—”
“No, Lira. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blamed you for what happened. After what happened with your brother, I shouldn’t have acted like that. You didn’t deserve it. I was—I was yelling at myself.” Kayden spotted breathing from Lira’s father. “I’m sorry for what I said.” Apologizing took a lot. She looked around at the surrounding bodies. Blackened.
“I guess—I’m more powerful than I thought,” Lira whispered. She released her father and turned. “I burned my own father. I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean to. I don’t understand.”
“We know you didn’t,” Kayden said. She released her grip and looked into Lira’s sullen eyes.
A drop of blood crept from Lira’s nose down her chin.
Th
e cost of magic. Vesper barely finished his spell before his mind sundered from the raw pressure of magical energies.
“Look at me. You saved his life. If it weren’t for whatever that was, he would be gone, and you may have been, too. I would take a burn over death.” Kayden paused, and let the information sink in. “Is he okay?” Kayden asked cautiously.
Lira nodded. “He’s okay. It’ll take time, but he will heal, I think. He needs to go to Solmarsh for help. He can’t stay here.” Lira originally wanted to come to the monastery to visit her mother’s grave, and Kayden needed to remind her.
“Mags and the others will carry him back, okay? Why don’t we go and see your mom? I’ll go with you.” Kayden smiled sweetly, trying her best to stay strong, and to be nice. Lira almost lost her whole family in a day—Kayden knew how that felt.
“I’d like that.” Lira tried to smile. They got up as the others approached. They carefully took up her father, nodded, and began their trek back to Solmarsh. Lira led Kayden to a small cemetery surrounded by a three-foot high ornate stone wall. A bright green, grassy plot was filled with headstones of various shades of black, grey, and white, each with its own inscription and name of a departed loved one. There were many with fresh as well as dead bouquets of flowers. “Kayden, I’m worried. What was that thing, Valikar? What happened? What can we do?”
“I know you’re worried. I don’t know what it was. We stopped whatever it was, at a great cost.” She bit her lip at the thought of Vesper passing once more. It was still so fresh in her mind, and a cost she felt she brought to the group.
“Maybe I can do more, now. I don’t know how I did it, but maybe I’m stronger than I thought. I still can’t believe what I did. I don’t remember it at all.”
Kayden smiled. I’m glad, princess. I’m glad you feel stronger. I just wish I could be, she thought. “I’m sure in time you’ll figure it out.”
“That Demon, whatever it was, I worried about it. I’m scared, Kayden. What if something like that comes back, what if there are more of them, what if—”
“Don’t worry, Lira. We need to take this one step at a time. We aren’t gods, right? We need to find a way to stop these things from returning, and the ones who sent it.”
Kayden pondered her own words. She wanted to encourage Lira, but still felt it was herself that endangered them all. His death is still my fault. I bring it wherever I go. Lira brings happiness and kindness, Magnus brings protection, and what do I bring?
Insults and death.
Lira had confidence. She didn’t need Kayden anymore. They were safer without her.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I know I could have done more. I just didn’t know. I felt useless. I could have come quicker or found out more faster. I could have saved him. This is all my fault.”
I think we all felt useless. “Look, Lira, you put a hold on your own power. Sure, the gods or whatever set their limit, but you never know your potential until you try.”
“I didn’t think you believed in the power of gods.”
Kayden sighed. “I don’t. Let me try to help, at least. My beliefs don’t matter right now.”
“Thanks. I’m going to try.” Lira carefully strolled around the plots, while Kayden paid no attention, not realizing where she stepped. “Kayden, you shouldn’t walk on graves.”
“Sorry,” Kayden said quietly. They stopped before a pearly-white gravestone, Aya Kaar—Lira’s mother.
Aya’s read, Lived true end, kind to all, optimistic in darkest times.
Lira told Kayden about her brother. It reminded Kayden of her parents, who said they did the same, in the recurring dream she couldn’t leave behind. They said they were protecting her when they left, and Lira’s brother went to the military to protect her—only to be arrested to protect her again. Kayden knew Lira felt entirely at fault, and she was, but couldn’t blame herself forever.
Lira’s mother grew sick, passing away peacefully in her sleep. She always said she took after her mother, always finding a bright side and kindness in everyone. She only regretted not being there when she passed. Temples were restrictive.
It was foolish to think everyone had good in them. Kayden trusted certain people, and no one else. Lira trusted too many.
“So much changed,” Lira said. “I killed these people. I prayed and prayed, but in the end all I could think was that I had to stop them, and part of me knew that I could.” Her voice dropped to a whisper that met the gentle breeze. “I had to stop them no matter what.”
“And you did.” Kayden crouched beside her. “Don’t think for a moment that you didn’t do the right thing. I’m proud of you.”
Lira’s voice trembled as she knelt before her mother’s grave. “Thanks. It’s hard.”
“It always is. You’ll learn to live with it.” Kayden sighed. “I’ll leave you be.” Kayden backed off.
“I’d like it if you stayed,” Lira said. “I won’t be long.”
Kayden nodded. Lira interlocked her fingers and prayed. A light breeze blew through Kayden’s hair; it smelled of newly bloomed damp lilies from the monastery garden. Lira’s onyx hair blew with the wind as she whispered words of devotion to her goddess. Kayden stood behind her, not pushing to hurry. After the past days, they all needed a rest.
She watched the quiet, meek Lira pray to her goddess. The same woman who seared the flesh of six men—including her own father—just a few moments prior. One’s potential showed in times of intense emotion. Kayden hoped Lira realized how powerful she could be, as it seemed a time of rebels and knights would soon turn to gods and kings.
“We have to stop them, Kayden,” Lira whispered. She turned her head with sharp, glistening eyes. “I won’t give up until we do.”
Chapter Forty-three
Darkness Comes
Jirah Mirado
“I don’t know why you are all staying here,” Jirah growled. He paced back and forth at the entrance of Wolf Camp. The damn fools stayed, even after they knew. He hated it, but he chose them for that fact; they were loyal to the end. The crickets sang the song of the night, and the owls hooted in the distance, hoo, hoo, hoo...
“We’re not leaving you. We can’t abandon our leader when he needs us most,” Gorkith said.
Jirah winced. You’re going to get yourself killed, he thought.
“Sir, why did you not tell us about this?” Gorkith’s rough voice called from beside the fire. “We could have helped.”
No, no one could help with this. It was inevitable. And it’s all my fault. “I can’t believe I left this for so long. I must wait for the other scouts to arrive. None of you should be here. It’s too dangerous!” Jirah commanded. “Who knows what could have been found there. All I know is that they’re coming. I know a bluff when I hear one, and this wasn’t.”
“We are here to help,” Alex said in her deep voice. “To the end. You taught us that. Fight for our freedom.”
Her words were simple, but she was right. Jirah brought them in and taught them to fight for good, freedom, and honor. Their honor brought them here, and it bound them to stay. He wished for them to abandon their beliefs, just for a short time, so they would survive. Jirah did not know their fate, but feared what was to come.
“I hope that whatever was happening in Solmarsh was worth it,” Jirah said weakly. “It may cost us more than we know.”
Only four remained in the camp: Alexandra, Pali’ah, Gorkith, and himself. Jirah sent Serafina to Solmarsh on horseback to follow the group and discover their fate. She was their fastest rider. He still worried about Steven Felkar, who hadn’t come back from the crossroads.
“What of your friend, sir?” Gorkith asked. “Did he respond to your message?”
“No, he didn’t. I hope to the gods that he was forgetful to respond, as he always is. I can only hope he will come. I sent Felkar to retrieve him, but he still hasn’t returned.”
Richard was a very forgetful man, but if he got the message, he would come. Jirah had no doubts of t
hat. It just depended on whether he could arrive before they did. Ever since the set-up, Jirah traveled endlessly between the camps, giving out orders and missions on his own. He didn’t reveal his plans to anyone, save for a select few. He could feel bags beneath his eyes sagging more with every day. Perhaps this would be an end to it—but he hoped not. His men, in all camps, waited on his orders and leadership. What would happen if I were to die? He could not think like that. He needed to persevere for their sake, and for Loughran as a whole.
Quick hooves could be heard from the southern path.
Jirah and the others were armed to the teeth, ready. Serafina’s white hair blew wildly in the breeze. Her horse neighed loudly as she brought him to a roaring halt, almost kicking Alexandra in the chest.
“Whoa!” Alex yelped, stepping back. “We thought we lost you, Sera,” she said with a sigh.
“Sorry to worry you. It’s tough to catch me.” Sera laughed. She hopped off her black mare and patted him roughly. The horse was exhausted. She brought him to the small stable they set up and set it to feed before reporting. Her eyes shone like the moon, a clear white with pale grey pupils. She was delaying her reporting now.
Most of the time, Jirah wouldn’t mind, but when the hunters were on their heels, he had little patience left to give. “Well?” Jirah commanded, still pacing and scratching his fiery scalp.
The others were taken aback. Serafina looked to him with a raised eyebrow. “What’s the urgency? At least let me feed the poor thing before I report.” She stood up and winced, gripping her lower back. “Speaking of which, you better have a seat.”
Jirah didn’t sit down. The others did so slowly, carefully eyeing Serafina as she meandered toward them. Her brow furrowed and tightened. She scratched the back of her neck with her sharp nails, pacing back and forth in front of them while trying to form a sentence. She gently scratched behind her broad, floppy ears. “A Demon was summoned in Solmarsh.”