Epistem- Rise of the Slave King's Heir

by Jani Griot

  The coup de grâce was nearly successful, until she turned her focus to her wrists, from which her shackles fell. The shackles about her ankles cracked and dropped to the sides of her feet. Her eyes changed in that moment, as the final grains of sand fell from her wrists. She roared like the beast of my nightmares.

  “She roars like…” the boy trailed off as her stared at her.

  “One of the Sun Kingdom’s dragonlings is free!" yelled a guard from one of the many nearby watchtowers.

  Blaring horns echoed in a circular manner, like a chant sent down a tunnel. The man who yelled about the girl didn't stand a chance as she floated to her feet and grabbed the wrist of his sword arm in one motion, before taking off into the clouds above. The boy and I glanced at one another, our jaws slack, before looking back upward.

  “Dragon on the loose,” yelled more guards.

  Glinting flames spiraled out of the clouds above before the burnt corpse of a man plummeted to the ground, breaking into pieces on impact.

  “I knew we shouldn't have trusted her kind!” the boy yelled as he rushed toward an abandoned cart. The chaotic scene encouraged all who were in danger to run, save the horses that pulled the topless carriage full of goods.

  “They are loyal to none but themselves and their mothers,” the boy huffed.

  I ran after the boy as he hopped into the seat of the small buggy.

  The boy glanced back toward the river. “Hurry up, Fury. Avery's purple sails are coming. We must find somewhere to hide in the manor before he arrives!”

  I dove into a mound of foreign amenities on the cart’s flatbed, a plume of dust rising in my wake. The cart’s wheels spun at the boy's command to the steeds as he sat, perched above me in the driver’s seat.

  “That girl will probably kill herself before she lets any of her captors get away alive.” He barked a laugh, bucking the horses into a charge up the mountain path. “This may actually work in our favor.”

  The boy laughed again as he looked over his shoulder, down the path. He was stifled as an arrow from above nearly pierced one of the horses. I swatted the next arrow down, before it clipped the boy's jaw. Fear was on his face now.

  More arrows rained down as we forced our way up the mountain. I climbed into the front to provide cover for myself and the boy. The arrows still came. The archers stood, perched in the back of a chariot above us, picking their shots.

  “It’s been fun these past few days, hasn't it, Fury?” He glanced at me with wet eyes as shot after shot bounced off my cloak and shield. His facial features made my chest hurt. I felt myself smiling at him as he shook tears from his face.

  “I’ll get you to the top of this mountain if it's the last thing I do. I swear it, Fury.” His face turned determined as we rode up the treacherous cliff. We were now on the side of the mountain that was opposite the cove entrance. In between arrow volleys, I cast a glance down the terrifying drop and noticed a waterfall.

  Vola appeared again, across from me in the cart. He stared at me with such a gaze that indicated I should understand the measure of it regardless of my intellect or upbringing. He looked at the boy as he struggled to dodge the incoming arrows. My shield arm moved about even more desperately as the emotions of loss slipped into my being through the connection that built while I gained more old-blooded relics. I may not have understood loss, but as Vola’s feelings and memories filled me; I fought as if I knew what it was to lose someone dear to me. We cannot save everyone, and you will truly suffer if you attempt to.

  The roar came like thunder, making both of us jump. We looked up to see the girl zipping back into the clouds, her prey already set ablaze as the burning chariot fell from the path above and barrel-rolled down the side of the mountain. The horse and the driver went with it.

  The girl zipped through the air, mostly a blur. A blur setting everything ablaze. Screaming men fell from the cliffs above us; all of whom were engulfed in flames, as were their wagons and wares. Flaming bags of goods fell like meteors from the sky, crashing to the dunes below.

  She moved through the air on invisible wings, a talent kept by dragon Elementalists since the beginning of time, hence the pirate’s need for shackles. The girl's people were often bound to the dirt by their masters, then dropped to the bottom of the sea, a place said to be the sacred final resting place of their most powerful and noble.

  The only prerequisite to rest in the kingdoms of eternal fire and light was a long life of honor, untethered. Any dragon who met the horrible fate of being physically bound would be an outcast in death. A weakling who brought disgrace to their people and the realm in which their elders’ bones lay.

  She flung the chariots off the mountainside without hesitation, setting them alight with embers. When they fell, she'd let loose a malicious roar.

  “Oh god she’s going to kill us!” the boy said as he dodged the detritus of her fiery rage. Valuable cargo—armor, weapons, food, and even gold and powerful relics—caught either the ire of the girl or were lost to the sandy depths below.

  A third chariot burned, scattered into pieces ahead of us. Our immediate source of danger was no longer arrows, but debris.

  We rounded a bend in the path and were nearly set on fire as we zoomed past another pile of archers in overturned attack vehicles, and things grew silent. We were so high up now, the chariots below looked to be anyone else's problem but our own.

  The girl sighed as she landed, sitting upright and straight-backed, startling both the boy and me. “I feel much better now.”

  The cart we rode in came dangerously close to riding off the side as we stared back at her.

  “Don’t be stupid. Look at where you're going, little one!" Her face grew sharp. “Oh, and what was that about disloyal Dragons?” The girl raised an eyebrow at the boy.

  “And are those tears I see?” She made the inquiry as her other eyebrow lifted to match its partner. “Who knew slaves of this region were so soft-hearted." She rolled her eyes as she turned away from us. The boy’s face had gone beyond red, to an almost deep purple.

  His tone was so low he nearly growled as he spoke. “Yeah? What would a demon like you know about tears anyway? I may not be like you, or whatever the hell Fury over here is. Regardless, I still willingly go into danger when my friends need me.”

  I couldn't understand what they were saying. She barely paid him attention as he drove us up the mountain. She was entertaining herself with her own brand of flaming target practice. Lighting bags of grain on fire and heaving them over the sides, onto the charging chariots. Bags bursting on impact, like flaming beehives.

  “What were you saying, darling? I was too busy saving our lives.” She blew flames onto another bag so subtly, it looked as if she were soothing a burn, rather than spreading one.

  “I’m not your bloody darling. I could never be to someone who makes sport of burning whole civilizations into extinction.”

  The girl inhaled sharply and looked away from the boy.

  The boy and the girl’s odd interactions made little sense to me at the time, nor did I much care how they treated one another. However, there would come a time in my life where that would matter. Where I would understand what had simultaneously drawn them together and torn them apart.

  Dragons mate with a single partner. Once his or her lifelong mate comes along, the dragon's body instantly tunes their mind, to form a protective bond for that person. The only two ways to break that bond are the death of their mate, or the Dragon approaching their species’ eternal resting place. This is said to have never been done.

  The pubescent period for Dragons is far greater a trying time than any other species. The fire in their hearts and veins makes it difficult for them to ever know a sense of clear-headedness. Every decision is swayed by their rage and passion, especially if the youth finds their true mate. Nothing can stop the love of a young Dragon after their irises turn deep red, with intense sensation. This girl’s eyes had been as silver as glinting blades just a few moments ago.
Now they were as red as the cloak I wore.

  The girl who was now beside us, had just been told by the boy her body was practically forcing her to love, that he would never think of her intimately. This was a Dragon’s worst nightmare. The bond was one-sided and was often not returned by the men or women who found themselves the object of affection. Wars had been fought for this; people had died for this.

  She was silent as we rode along, now. The half-dozen or so remaining chariots sped up the side of the mountain without any more resistance from the girl, and they caught up to our much slower carriage. The boy looked to me with his brow knit as we rounded the final corner to the top, his eyes quickly taking in the landscape.

  The beautiful view was nearly as amazing in its ferocity as the cliff-face I now stood above. The sun, still high in the sky, held light to the glimmering ocean and sands far below. An army of men blanketed the tan strip of land as far as the eye could see. Any hopes that the war would not come to Vassilious keep would have been destroyed by the sight.

  Men and women trained in ranks, in what seemed to be by the hundreds, as others watched. Powerful Elementalists with forge-fire and light as weapons. Magical battles took place everywhere. They were ringed by spectators, who hungrily watched the bloody sport.

  War was coming; this was the proof. The numbers involved showed how far the king of Vassilious's devilish games had reached. The boats and troops from almost every Honorborn family flew banners at the edge of the kingdom in unified threat.

  “I may have a way for us to get out of this but…” the boy trailed off. He bit his lip in frustration as he gripped the horse’s reigns and charged us forward across the manor grounds. The boy, without looking, pointed at the girl. “We will need the help of your demon.”

  The girl winced at the boy’s words. I remember looking between them and seeing identical emotions. Anger, then confusion, then back to anger.

  “Ask me nicely then,” commanded the girl, unwavering as she looked directly in his eyes.

  He appeared lost in thought for a moment, before spouting off his plan as quickly and rudely as he could. Adding a "please" as subtlety as possible.

  Her mouth hung open before she responded, “What kind of Arking madness did you just let fall free of those lips?”

  “We don't have time for this, woman. Decide now!” The boy's scream was washed out by the thundering of hooves drawing in behind us. Arrows soared toward us once again. My first movement was to pull the girl into my seat, then move myself between the them and the incoming projectiles. Standing in the back of a rickety wagon and balancing on top of bags of grain was enough to handle without arrows. As I stood, shield in hand, a familiar sensation returned.

  “He's really good at that, isn't he?” the girl said from over my shoulder.

  Pressure built on points of impact for arrows being shot from dozens of yards away. This allowed for my body to move at such an optimal level, it began to feel as though I were dancing in the back of the cart. Flipping and arcing the shield to either deflect or dismantle any and every arrow before impact.

  “We don't have time for your unnecessary attention. Will you do it or not?” The boy yelled at the girl as I deflected the arrows. Help from her would have been nice, but I couldn’t ask. Still, I knew I needed help. We needed help. To need something… that was different.

  This doesn’t seem to be a situation that will end in your favor, my boy.

  A dust cloud blew up and consumed Vola’s image as the chariot behind us raced past him. He seemed to be laughing and his eyes widened as he watched our progress.

  You must find PRO, boy, before it’s too late!

  I had no idea what a PRO was, but as the word rang through my mind so did the image of a lady standing below Vassilious, shaking her head at me with a displeased gaze. Was the straight-backed woman who crossed her arms like the king a… PRO? The warmth of the words filled me with a need. A sense of urgency that my mind couldn’t ignore even under the threat of immediate danger.

  An arrow bounced off my shoulder. This wouldn't normally be a cause for alarm, but I was in the middle of an aerial maneuver. The arrow didn't penetrate the cloak; the only time that had ever happened was when we were underground. It was, however, powerful enough to push me from the wagon. Which the boy had just steered over the side of Sand Mountain.

  Long Live King Avery

  My first experience with flight was terrifying. My mind was trying to process so many things at once, I don’t think it allotted any space for a scream.

  “What are you doing? Grab, Fury!” the boy yelled over my shoulder.

  At least, I think that's what he yelled. It was hard to hear anything over the waterfall I was plummeting toward. Things were happening so quickly I stopped breathing.

  The horses went under first, pulling the small cart of goods along with them.

  “Hurry!” the boy yelled.

  I was caught in a spiral, spinning toward the rushing water and its rock-laden underbelly. Catching glimpses of the boy, who clung to the girl’s torso. The girl dived toward me; the arm she didn’t use to hold the boy close was outstretched. There were massive gusts of distorted air from her wings, and light flailing behind the two in a color-wheel of pigments. She must have used huge amounts of energy to fly, as the prismatic colors of her wings spread through the air.

  I don’t think I would have agreed to this plan had I known what it entailed.

  I felt it then. The grip around my ankle before a nearly bone-snapping yank. I inhaled a cloud of water as we flew. Our flight was far more of a crash landing than anything else. The amount of magic it took to make one individual fly was intense; to a weaker Dragon, it was said to be stressful, at the very least. The girl who had been trained to fly in mountains, touched by the powers of univers, was now holding up both my body weight and that of the boy, after having been freed from her chains.

  My head almost hit the grated gate that decelerated the flow of water on the opposing side of the cove in Sand Mountain on our way in. The girl shot up toward the ceiling in seconds with another flood of energy. A sheen bloomed across the glass walls when the girl’s wings reflected off them, lighting a small section of the massive, empty expanse.

  The rushing river’s loud, reverberating roar blotted any noise we could have made that would alert anyone to our entrance. Sound really wasn't the problem. It was the girl’s massive glimmering wings, only made so big to support three bodies. We were headed straight toward a high-ledge balcony.

  “This is going to be absolutely dreadful for you guys.”

  She dropped us. We fell. The boy appeared stunned for only the first moment after being dropped from such a height. Balcony below or not, the height gave me vertigo for a breath until my shocked system took over. We all landed in a roll, our paths colliding simultaneously. Before I knew it, we had smashed into the small double doors that led to the balcony, bursting into a room so bright, I momentarily covered my eyes to the light above.

  “I thought you said you were a Dragon?” asked the boy, with pain in his voice.

  Sitting up on my side, I caught a glimpse of him rubbing his head. The girl was coming to her feet in the large room, wearing a face of pure confusion.

  “I am. What would make you think otherwise?” she asked.

  The boy responded, “I’ve never seen so many vivid and varying colors in a dragon's wings, if that's what you really are.”

  They continued to talk as I looked around. An overwhelming curiosity took over my actions. The girl turned from the boy, her face reddening, as I walked past.

  “Sorry to disappoint, but I am a Dragon,” said the girl. She looked back into his eyes, freezing him there.

  It took the two a while to separate. They took in the surrounding area, as I had. The boy started searching the books and heavily papered desk while the girl perused an attached room full of weapons of all shapes and sizes.

  My body seemed drawn elsewhere, I even walked past a multitude of
sculptures. I was compelled forward, by what felt like a guiding hand, pressed knowingly on the flat of my back, leading me where I needed to be.

  I came to the bottom of a vast staircase, wide enough to support ten individuals walking arm in arm. It seemed to curve beyond the top of the mountain, to the tower at its peak. I took the first step of many. Vola appeared at my side, his hand at my back. He spoke with a purpose that would come to haunt my dreams; for these were words passed from generation to generation.

  Men lead men; those of Vassilious answer to the god within, and no other, he said, gazing down upon me.

  I looked to my left, to see one of the hundreds of portraits that lined the wall to the tower’s top. In the portrait, the man stood atop a set of perimeter walls that lined the castle’s edge. The cloaked man stood, looking over his shoulder, grinning. Below him dangled a crowned man, the brown rope around his neck striking a hard contrast to the whites and golds of his king’s robes. The man in the cloak was, without a doubt, Vola.

  Kings rise on the backs of slaves and blood money; the Vassilious rise due to our loyal bond, expecting no reward. For we constructed the system in which currency stands by itself, Vola continued as I ascended the steps.

  More cloaked individuals were depicted in each painting, all involved in the most harrowing feats. I gazed at each intently as Vola spoke.

  The powerful hoard knowledge, in fear of being overthrown. The Vassilious are powerfully connected, thus gaining us an endless link to the source. Allowing a fearlessness only attainable through understanding.

  One painting showed three cloaked individuals battling what seemed to be a limitless number of enemies on a grassy plain, surrounded by icy mountains. Another showed a diving man, the same red cloak billowing as he leapt from a cliff's edge. He held a bag of jewels as a villa burned in the background.