Tempest of Bravoure: Kingdom Ascent

by Valena D'Angelis

  The shrike simply nodded. Not much of what Ahna told him made sense to him. But he understood her pain, and her difficulty to deal with the curse of her family.

  He cleared his throat. “Thamias was the Dragonborn, and he is your brother too, and he is trapped in the Tomb of Ghydra,” Cedric inferred from what he remembered of the happenings in the castle of Bravoure.

  “Thamias was...different,” Ahna said with difficulty. “He was smaller, reserved, always in his head. His mind worked in other ways. I had to protect him from Xandor.” Ahna then took a deep breath, remembering the tremors of war. “Xandor came to Bravoure, and he didn’t even know we were there. I tried to fix it. I tried to fight him, but I failed. The prophecy...” She looked away, growing even more distant. “I named my brother Dragonborn. Look at how that turned out! The Academy was lost, the King died, my mother was executed...Everything I tried to save simply just withered away.”

  Fifty years ago, when Ahna had heard of a man who called himself Prince of Mal had rammed the gates of Bravoure open, she had felt responsible. Her mother, Thamias, and she had committed to fight against the known evil, at all cost. But one by one, everything Ahna had held dear had crumbled before her eyes.

  The elf pursed her lips in regret. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save your soul, Cedric.” she murmured. “And I should have told you about my link to Xandor.”

  “I lost my soul long ago, Ahna. And yes, there are a couple of things you should have told us,” he said with a slight, honest smile. “Ahna,” he began with a more serious tone. “I felt what you felt when you faced your brother. Remember, I was there. I think I can understand part of what you went through and the hard choices you had to make. And I’m sincerely sorry for being the asshole I am.”

  As he uttered these words, she looked away to hide her face, perhaps in shame. “The curse of Sharr consumed my brother entirely. The same darkness that I sometimes feel...”

  But Cedric softly brought his finger to her chin and gently pulled it to make her look back. He searched for the amethyst gems of her eyes, and for a minute that could have lasted all night, he held her gaze and delved deep into her soul.

  “That man is not your brother,” he firmly declared. “You are Arkamai, the brave archmage who fights for Bravoure, and that is how you will be remembered.”

  Ahna looked into the shrike’s eyes and saw something different than usual, something more serene than before. His smile brought her the kind of peace she had not felt in a long time. These passing seconds, close to him, could have lasted an eternity.

  His hand slipped past her cheek, through her silver hair, until his fingertips reached the nape of her neck. He then gently pulled her face toward him, and as he closed his eyes, he whispered his final words to her. “Come here, just once.”

  He took her lips.

  She could hear the sound of his heart pound in his chest as he touched her. The tender sensation of the kiss spread through Ahna’s body in a discharge of emotional relief. His other arm wrapped itself around her shoulder, and he pressed her closer to him. A small sound escaped her lips and he took them again. He tasted her furtively, capturing her in his arms. She held his face in her hands as his soft touch became an ardent cadence to a rhythm of passion. His curious hands searched along her body and reached beneath her breast. He never slid further.

  When he let go of her lips ablaze, he smiled gently and rose to his feet, effortlessly. He gave her a single nod to bid her farewell and headed toward the dorms. He did not look back. Ahna remained here, by the sole brazier in the nave, swayed by the shrike’s kiss.

  13

  Prophecy Be Damned!

  In the early morning, the sunlight rayed through the cloister’s arcs and entered the dorms where the rebels slept. A few were already roaming the fort to bring peace to their minds. Some of them had been tormented by nightmares of the battle of Orgna. Some had dreamed that it had never happened but were hauled back to reality upon waking.

  Brother Gideon was already scouting the main hall to complete his quest and find Ahna. He found the elf by what had become the stables, reunited with her brown horse.

  “Ahna, Varko be praised, you made it!” he exclaimed. She smiled when she saw him, and they embraced. “They made me leave before the battle, but I brought your horse!”

  Ahna felt an intense pulse of joy spread in her heart. The sight of Gideon had spurred a warm sentiment. The sweet cleric had taken good care of her horse for her, she had not even asked for such charity.

  “I’m glad you’re alright, Gideon,” she told him with honest eyes.

  The wise man did not wait longer. He came bearing news, and he had to share. He needed to tell the elf about his vision. “Ahna, there’s something I must tell you,” Gideon urged. “I had a dream...I mean, a vision, in the Halls of Prophecy!”

  Ahna’s eyes rounded in odd surprise. She took Gideon to the side of the room and requested more explanation. “Are you sure? Why are you telling me?”

  “I couldn’t find you in Orgna, then I had to leave with the other clerics. I think it concerns you, Archmage, and the shrike captain.”

  The two made their way to Mother Divine, who stood by the altar in the nave. Gideon had told her about his vision back in Orgna. She had instructed him to wait until they had reached Fort Gal.

  “Astea,” he greeted her with a bow. “Ahna is here.”

  The aged woman turned to them. “The ineffable design was incomplete, Ahna. A second prophecy was heard!” The mage gasped at her words, and Astea continued. “A new dragon must now be named.”

  Gideon nodded assertively. Ahna, confused, studied the cleric for more information. He cleared his throat. “To shadows sworn, in shadows may die. High in Gurdal, where the sentinels fly. Something tells me you might know what it means.”

  Ahna opened her eyes wide. “A second Dragonborn, are you sure?” she asked with haste. “I mean…it’s possible. Dragon blood flows through a few of us, after all. But...”

  As Gideon nodded some more, she turned around to think alone for a moment. No, this could not be. In shadows may die. Where the sentinels fly. There was no way it was this obvious. And, a new prophecy? Now, of all times? Ahna could not bear the thought of going back there, to dealing with the gods’ grand design. She had done it once, and it had cost her everything.

  Gideon noticed her trouble and came beside her. Before he could speak, she turned to him. “I’m not a puppet for the gods to play with,” she sternly declared.

  But both clerics looked to her, expectantly, and most of all, hopeful. She saw a glimmer in their eyes. The light that proved that, despite everything, the fallen soldiers, the battle of Orgna, everything, their faith had survived.

  Gideon smiled at her. “Prophecies are hard to avoid, Ahna.” The elf sighed. Gideon was right. Prophecies were inevitable, even the old monks knew that. “We should summon Captain Rover,” the wise man suggested.

  Ahna acknowledged and went to find Cedric.

  She searched through the dorms but no sign of the shrike. She went to the frosted garden, then the small rooms of the fort’s church—nothing.

  She had already begun to have serious concerns when, an hour later, the marksman stepped through the gates. He went straight to Commander Falco, passed Ahna without seeing her, and shared with David what he had been up to all morning.

  “I went on recon,” he reported. “Sharr’s troops are on the move. They’re advancing fast, and they go by the hundreds.”

  The commander sighed in concern. He paused for a minute, unsure of what the shrike expected of him, then turned to his interlocutor. “What would you do, Cedric?”

  “I’m asking you,” the shrike retorted. “You’re the highest in command now.”

  David sighed again. This time, it was more about a repressed fear of failure, a fear of failing his soldiers and all the souls that now relied on Fort Gal to protect them.

  Ahna emerged from behind them. “Hi David,” she greeted the comman
der then turned to the shrike captain. “Cedric...” she hesitated. “Astea is asking for you.”

  Cedric nodded and followed Ahna to the Mother Divine.

  “A second Dragonborn?” the captain of the shrikes asked, flabbergasted. “And that should be...me?”

  Brother Gideon had to explain, “The prophecy referred to the sentinels. Sentinel shrikes! You are all that’s left.”

  “What about Jules and the rest?” Cedric refuted. “There are still others who made it to Fort Gal!”

  Ahna intervened, “The prophecy mentioned the Shadows...” Cedric immediately veered to her after these words. His flaming eyes ordered her to hush now.

  But Gideon remained serene. “Dear shrike, I’m a special kind of cleric,” the old man declared. “I can feel the dead. Even when they still walk among us.”

  “I am very much alive.”

  “Oh, I certainly don’t doubt it,” the cleric responded with another smile.

  Hence, Gideon had known all along. Once again, there was not much one could hide from the wise man in the white alb. After Cedric regained his calm, he looked at them, still perplexed but determined to act.

  “Still, how can you prove it’s me?” he inquired.

  “There is one way to be sure,” Ahna disclosed. The shrike looked at her inquisitively. “Being Dragonborn is in the blood,” she pursued. “There is a way to test your blood for dragon essence. It’s a form of blood magic, but non-intrusive.”

  The shrike took another minute to think. “What do I need to do?”

  Ahna motioned for him to follow her, and Cedric heeded the elf’s order. Brother Gideon walked behind them while Astea still needed to discuss things with David.

  Ahna instructed Cedric to lie on his back on the altar in the chancel. The shrike cast a puzzled glance over him, some people had begun to observe this curious display. Word of the new prophecy had already spread around the fort, and the thought of Captain Rover possibly being the new Dragonborn had brought a new sentiment of hope to the rebels that remained. To them, it was the promise of the return of a long lost savior, and evil would be subject to a holy reckoning.

  Cedric sat on the altar and waited for Ahna’s instructions. The mage held a dagger in her hands. She stood by his side while Diego, who had joined in, and Brother Gideon, observed the practice.

  “I’ll need some blood, and it has to be close to your heart,” she stated. “And it will hurt,” she then warned.

  Cedric shrugged and rid himself of his fur shawl and undid the buckles that kept his leather jerkin tight around his chest. He swiftly took off his white cloth shirt and shivered from the frost. His muscles tensed up, almost to become stone.

  Ahna tilted her head as a sign for him to lie down. He then prepared mentally for the ice-cold stone before he went to rest on the altar. The elf placed two of her fingers below his sternum, at the base of his ribcage. Her soft touch on his rigid chest made him shiver silently, but the bumps on his skin betrayed him. Upon touching his skin, her fingers burned with something else than mere magic.

  “I’m going to cut here slightly,” she said, distracted.

  “Please be gentle,” he humorously requested with a pout.

  She chuckled the distractions away. She made a small cut through Cedric’s skin, and he repressed a groan in a sigh. A small pool of blood formed in the crook of his broad chest. She dipped her fingers in the blood and drew a thick line down to his pelvis, right above his belt. She then held her hands above his chest and began the incantation.

  She paused for a minute to explain. “Your blood will show us if draconic essence flows in you.”

  As she murmured obscure words, Cedric felt a burning sensation on his skin underneath the drawn line of blood. He clenched a fist to suppress the pain. Diego checked if he was all right, and the shrike nodded assertively to reassure him.

  “You really know every spell in the book, mage!” he said with clenched teeth to distract himself from the severe discomfort.

  Ahna chuckled and responded quickly, in order not to lose focus. “An archmage has to!”

  As she dropped her hands down to both Cedric’s sides, the burning feeling turned to a stinging sensation on his skin. Part of the blood pierced through his chest and abdomen and disappeared back into his veins.

  What was left were strange symbols printed on his bare torso from the dried blood, like an occult sentence that extended all along his vertical axis. Ahna explained that it was in old elven, one of the languages of magic.

  Brother Ylwen appeared and attempted to decipher the words. He read with hesitation: “Child of…Guan.”

  When Ylwen was finished reading, Cedric sat up straight and immediately wrapped himself into the warm shawl. He wanted to wipe the dried blood off his body, so he looked expectantly to Ahna for approval.

  The elf’s mouth had slightly opened. “Guan...” she murmured in surprise.

  The crowd around them gasped.

  Guan, the god of endurance, hope, and victory. Guan, the horned dragon who lived among the stars. The god whom thousands praised but never witnessed.

  Ahna realized how many spectators had been standing here, in awe. They were eager to hear what the obtained result had been. They each felt incredibly blessed by the possibility of Guan the triumphant to descend from the Heavens to save the Resistance.

  Brother Gideon turned to them and raised his arms in the air. “He is chosen by Hope! He is Dragonborn!” he cheered and the crowd joined him. “The Resistance will be saved!”

  More people had gathered around the altar. Cedric, perplexed by the burden that had just dropped on his shoulders, wiped the blood off himself and quickly dived into his clothes. He remained seated for a moment as the crowd asked him questions he could not answer. They wished to know what he would do, what his grand plan would be. They wanted to know how they could assist him.

  The rebels had come to Fort Gal, vanquished and without hope. They were here with the idea that this place would be their tomb, and that they would draw their last breaths. When some heard the clerics talking about the new heard prophecy, the spark of rebirth had begun to grow in their hearts. Their faith had been restored.

  Cedric, who still sat there, silent, felt more overwhelmed than ever. He just wanted to flee. When Ahna turned to check on him, the shrike had slipped through the shadows and vanished into the cloister.

  He headed to the garden and let his body crash on the bench underneath the ice tree. He rested his elbows on his knees and plunged his face between his hands. Guan…Child of Guan, Dragonborn…Why me? He sat there undisturbed until the wise figure of a woman in white came to sit next to him. She stayed hushed and still until the silence became too awkward for the shrike.

  “Mother Divine,” he turned to her and spoke. “I can’t be this vessel of faith for the rebellion!”

  He had spoken with a grim tone, but a gentle smile drew on the aged woman’s face. She turned to him and took his hands in hers. “Predictions, you can run from. Prophecies, that is a monumental challenge!” Astea exclaimed.

  Cedric scoffed and crossed his arms. “Have you come to convince me once again?” he asked. She remained silent, so he continued. “Ten years ago, you sent me on a quest for an Item of Power. Look at how that turned out.”

  She smiled again. Cedric felt as though he had progressively lost his ability to breathe. He stayed silent for a few minutes.

  “How can a voidwalker even be Dragonborn?” he distantly wondered.

  Mother Divine looked to the ground a minute then raised her head to the open sky.

  “So, that is your true concern, shrike. You don’t deem yourself worthy of the godchild title.”

  Cedric had closed his eyes. The failure of the Uprising was his greatest shame. His dealings with the Shadows were a symbol of this failure. He had taken a hundred lives, and had done terrible things in the name of the cause. But the deal he had made was an abomination. No mortal should be allowed to fiddle with the threads of desti
ny. Mother Divine rose to her feet and waved the shrike goodbye. She headed back into the church part of the fort and disappeared beneath the covered walkway. Cedric stayed underneath the ice tree for the next hour, alone, pondering on the last words Mother Divine had said to him.

  Ahna and Brother Gideon spent the afternoon tending to the wounded and helping with sorting the few crates of weapons and armor they had managed to carry up the mountain. Kairen and Lynn were with them, so were Jules, and Diego. All had received a specific task from the new highest in command, Commander David Falco. They were to verify all they had left and to prepare the rest of the survivors for Sharr’s final strike. The Dark Lord’s soldiers were coming, and they would reach Fort Gal soon.

  As Ahna went outside for a stroll, Brother Gideon followed her. Outside the fort was a small path. The thin snowy trail stretched along the lower cliff, safely close to the edge, from the main road to the back of the fort.

  Ahna walked with Gideon as she stared to her left over the eastern highlands of Gurdal. The old cleric cleared some of the snow under his feet with his fur boots. His bald head was wrapped in a thick, warm shawl. He was silent and seemed to enjoy the calm breeze. The wise man searched Ahna 's eyes as they passed through the back corner of the church.

  “You look more tranquil than when I met you, Ahna,” he complimented.

  She smiled meditatively. “I made peace with some of my demons. Not all of them, though.”

  The cleric chuckled softly. He paused his march for a moment, to look at the stunning rocky landscape. Behind them, the sun had already hidden under the tall Peak of Gal. The radiant light over the lower mountain tops had become this peaceful blue veil of quietude. Gideon folded his hands behind his back.

  “When I told the clerics of my vision, most of them didn’t believe it,” he said with a child’s grin. “Some think I’m a bit of an old coot. But Mother Divine had no doubts, so she entered the prophetic halls immediately. It took a toll on her. She won’t let it show, but I worry.” His concern turned into something hopeful again. “When we win this war, I’ll wish for her to lead Bravoure, to restore the peace and begin rebuilding the kingdom.”