War of Men

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “Sora… you said she’d been here?” Whitney asked.

  “If these walls hadn’t already been red, they would be from all the blood she spilt in these hallowed halls. But… that wasn’t her. That wasn’t Sora Nothhelm.”

  “Why are you calling her that?”

  “Calling her what?” Kai asked.

  “Nothhelm.”

  Kai’s brow furrowed in confusion. “She is the bastard daughter of Ancient One Sora Sumati and the former King of Glass, Liam Nothhelm, birthed after they fell in love in secret. It is known. Aihara told us all. She was to return the Mystic Order back to prominence.”

  Whitney’s breath was gone, fled from the room like a dog used to being beaten. It didn’t make any sense. Sora was just an orphan entrusted to the crazy badger Wetzel. She’d grown up in Troborough. She wasn’t a princess or a mystic. Was she?

  Whitney knew there was something special about her. He’d seen her wield unbelievable power to defeat Redstar, and then use that same power to burn down Winde Port—power she’d only begun to scratch the surface of, power that made what he’d just seen from the other, now dead, mystic acolytes seem like child’s play.

  “You’re lying,” Whitney said. “Liam and all his Shieldsmen hated mystics and magic more than anything. Trust me, I’ve seen it.”

  “Now you believe him a liar?” Kazimir said, reaching down as if to grab Kai and start torturing again.

  “I do not lie,” Kai answered.

  Whitney looked quickly to Kazimir, and Kazimir stopped, returning the gaze. Whitney registered something in that glare.

  “You knew?”

  Kazimir just stared.

  “You yigging knew? And you didn’t tell me? Sora is the daughter of a yigging king? The yigging king?”

  “How would this knowledge have helped you?” Kazimir said. “She was hidden, forgotten by a king whose mind was lost, and a mother who’d died birthing her. A life for a life. Of course, the Sanguine Lords knew. She is part of the balance.”

  "Am I just ‘part of the balance?’” Whitney demanded. He scoffed. “Do you realize how much easier this would’ve been if someone knew that? The Crown would’ve had whole armies out here searching for her instead of just me and couple of undead people.”

  “She is illegitimate. She would just as soon have been hanged by the Queen Mother than honored.”

  “You don’t know that,” Whitney said.

  Kazimir stepped toward Whitney. “She was hidden away with a broken mystic exile. Never to be found or discovered. Only meant to be forgotten. It is no wonder the Buried Goddess was drawn to possessing her. I should have never let her go. At least with me, her power could be worth something.”

  Whitney opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Learning that old Wetzel was more than just a mad hermit practicing blood magic was the least of it. What Kazimir said about Sora was true. He knew it was. He knew that if everyone in the Glass were pious as Torsten, they would never have suffered the existence of a bastard born out of wedlock—beyond the blessing of Iam’s holy union. Not to mention a mystic. They were all taught to hate mystics, that they were perversions, even while their king loved one over his own wife. The hypocrisy of nobles never ceased to astound.

  Kai was still on the ground. Whitney turned back to him and said, “What do you know?”

  Kai eyed Kazimir nervously.

  “He won’t hurt you,” Whitney assured him. He had to really struggle not to let his anger ooze into his tone. He wasn’t even sure who he was angry at. The world, maybe. A world that had cast Sora away to his tiny corner of Pantego to grow up with a worthless badger, when she should have been so much more.

  “Just tell me everything you know about her,” Whitney went on.

  “Sora was very kind to me,” Kai said. “The only reason I am speaking to you at all now is because I know that what returned from within the portal was not the Sora I’d met. Now, I know why. If what you say about Nesilia is true, we are all in very grave danger.”

  Kazimir approached the two of them and tore a strip of cloth from the boy’s sleeve. He wrapped it around Kai’s wrists, binding them together.

  “What are you doing?” Whitney asked. “He’s helping.”

  “You may be convinced, but I am not,” Kazimir said. “To know the truth about Sora, it means he has Aihara Na’s trust now. And I definitely do not trust a mystic, let alone one throwing in with the Buried Goddess. Until we are in the Well of Wisdom, this one is not free. But perhaps, now that he’s proven so helpful, I will spare his life.”

  Kai looked up into Kazimir’s soulless, unblinking eyes. Whitney watched, impressed. Kai still didn’t show one bit of fear.

  “I’m telling you the truth,” he said. “Sora was a guest here not long ago. She learned within the tower under Madam Jaya’s tutelage. She healed me. She was kind. Very kind.”

  Whitney felt a sudden surge of jealousy but pushed it back down. Her words in Elsewhere and in her Nowhere soothed him. I love you, Whitney. I have since the beginning. A bastard princess loved him. And they say fairy tales don’t come true…

  “Then, when she met with the Council,” Kai went on. "I don’t even think they knew I was there, listening from behind the heavy doors. She stood up to them like no one I’d ever seen. When she destroyed her bar guai, she disappeared. I think that’s when it happened. When everything changed.”

  “What is her bar guai?” Whitney asked. Even Kazimir seemed to be unclear over what he meant.

  “It is magical essence from past mystics, stored within discs and worn about the neck. It’s merely a vessel to help acolytes channel their blood’s power. Mine was only just removed after its power was drained, but Aihara Na says I’m the most talented.”

  “So the mystics discovered a way to store their power before their souls passed on to Elsewhere?” Kazimir said. “Interesting. You see, Sigrid? There are new lessons every day, no matter how many centuries you live.”

  She licked her lips in response.

  “Well, Sora hadn’t trained enough to use magic without it, like any of us acolytes, but she’d clearly always been able to do incredible things,” Kai said. “Once it was discovered who she truly was, we understood. Her mother was known to be more powerful than even Aihara Na.”

  “So, this bar guai thing,” Whitney said. “It stores magic. Could anyone use it?”

  Kai shook his head. “Only those predisposed to a bond with the magics of Elsewhere.”

  Whitney swore. When he turned away, he saw Sigrid on her hands and knees lapping up Kai’s spilled blood from the ground, like nobody would realize.

  “Blizklos,” Kazimir uttered, and as if from thin air, the magical muzzle appeared on Sigrid’s face once more, keeping her from her truest desire.

  I know the feeling, Whitney thought.

  “I don’t know how she disappeared that day, or where to, but when Sora returned, she was different,” Kai continued.

  Whitney knew where. It was Elsewhere she’d gone to. She’d gone to save him and instead, ended up possessed by the Buried Goddess herself. He knew, because now as he looked around, he recognized the red stone of the tower. He’d seen it there, behind her as she was torn back through the rift, and a circle of mystics chanting around her.

  “Sora came back and she…” Kai had to take a breath. “She killed every last one of the Council. Everyone but Aihara Na, the Ancient One. They said the future required it. That the old Council was too set in their ways to find our new future. That Sora was meant to rule over all Pantego, and we would help her get there so that men and mystics could live in harmony again.”

  “That wasn’t Sora,” Whitney said. “She would never kill anybody who didn’t have it coming.”

  “It is so very obvious now,” Kai said.

  “So, Nesilia and Aihara Na decided to rebuild the Order with ones so young as you?” Whitney said.

  Kai nodded. “She took the time to train us all beyond the need of the bar guai. Ther
e were hundreds of eager acolytes serving within the tower. Only a fraction could survive the stress… They weren’t gifted enough, but I was. I think Sora’s presence helped me, Aihara Na said I was the first to join the new Council.”

  “Then I will ask again,” Kazimir said. “Can you open the Well of Wisdom?”

  “I… I never have. But I can feel it. Ever since I’d entered, the last day of my training, it has been calling. I believe it wants me to return. Aihara Na never told me what to do next. Only to stand watch here, even as I heard the screaming upstairs.”

  “Good,” Kazimir said. “Then I won’t ask again. Open the doors, or I will make you.”

  “I—”

  “Please,” Whitney whispered.

  “Aihara Na helped Nesilia slaughter your entire Council,” Kazimir said. “You must see that now, as now I know why the Sanguine Lords accepted this responsibility. A second Culling is upon us with such power in her hands.”

  Kai’s brave façade fully broke. “You don’t know what she’ll do to me…”

  Kazimir wasn’t willing to argue. He strode over, grabbed Kai by the back of the neck, and forced him to face the door. “The Buried Goddess returns again, and her followers have gone mad. They burn and pillage the city, knowing they’ll die. Not caring. She will plunge Pantego into darkness.”

  “At least you’ll be able to walk outside then,” Kai spat, one last shot at defiance.

  Kazimir shoved Kai's face against the wall. Sigrid perked up and watched, a sparkle in her eyes. “Open the doors so we can return balance!”

  Kai craned his neck to survey his captors. “If this is true, and Nesilia has indeed returned, we are in far more danger than any of us knows. If you’re lying…”

  “Then, either way, Aihara Na kills you for failing when she returns. I watched the third Panpingese war, boy. She isn’t known for her mercy. And neither am I.”

  “Why open it, knowing it will be the last thing I ever do.”

  “If you really help us, it won’t be,” Whitney assured. Kazimir glared, but Whitney didn’t back down. “It. Won’t. Be. All her life, Sora knew that she didn’t belong, and now we know why. That’s worth something, even if nobody else cares because her blood isn’t pure. They threw her out like trash. But me and her, we found where she belongs.”

  “Let me guess, with you?” Kazimir said.

  “No. Wherever she damn well wants to be. Now, Kai is going to open that door, and we’re going to get what we need to save her.” He pulled Kai free of Kazimir and set him before the doors. Then he sliced his bindings. The young mystic stared at him, confusion mounting as he rubbed his sore wrists.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Kai said. “I’ve only watched the Ancient One.”

  “You have to try,” Whitney said.

  “Do it,” Kazimir said, more firmly.

  Sigrid lurked up behind him, close enough that he had to feel the chill of her upyr presence. Kai stretched his arms, then raised one. Kazimir flinched, ready to cut it off if the boy tried any magic, but Kai didn’t. He placed his hand against the stone, muttered some words, but nothing happened. He shook his head, squeezed his eyelids. “I can feel it beyond the doors… so much power.”

  “Power that is unhelpful unless these doors are open..” Kazimir gave the kid a shove.

  “You know I am a mystic of the New Order? I can—”

  “You can do nothing,” Kazimir stated. “You’ve already proven that. I do not fear your magic, child. Open the doors so we can be done with this.”

  Kai drew a deep breath and tried again. It took several minutes, and then the faint blue light glowing around the edges of the door began to pulsate and intensify. Kai spoke more boldly now, words Whitney didn’t know, in a language he didn’t recognize. Blood leaked from one nostril, then the other. The doors shook but didn’t budge.

  “Give me your dagger,” Kai strained to say.

  “What?” Whitney asked.

  “Give it.”

  Whitney handed over a dagger and backed away, out of range. He didn’t trust the young mystic that much. But, again Kai didn’t try anything except to cut his own palm with the blade, letting the blood squeeze out like Sora used to do. Then his chanting grew louder, echoing throughout Whitney’s entire being. His eyes started to glow. He squeezed his bloody hand and shouted one last time.

  With a sudden boom, the stone doors shook hard, dust falling from the frame and the room beyond was revealed.

  It was a stark difference from the all-white room just a few floors above—dark walls, the smell of mold, and a bubbling pool of steaming blue liquid. The pool was surrounded by overgrown moss sprouting white lilies. The squeal Sigrid made at the sight of it… she had to lean against the wall seemingly just to control herself in its presence. Kazimir too regarded it with a level of awe Whitney didn’t think him capable of.

  Whitney, on the other hand, felt nothing. While the others stood around with their jaws hanging, he stepped forward. “This is it?” he said. “It looks like a bathhouse in Latiapur. All that’s missing are the whores.”

  “You should know that appearances can be deceiving,” Kai said. He was on his knees, panting. Dark bags wrapped his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days. He sluggishly turned his head to Kazimir. “I don’t know how this will help you, but I’ve done my part. Promise me this one thing… you will stop her, no matter the cost. I don’t believe Aihara Na is in control any more if Sora is who you say. The Buried Goddess has deceived us all.”

  “You are right. You've done your part.” Kazimir nodded, then turned to Sigrid and said, “Take him.”

  “What? No, stop!” Kai rasped as Sigrid’s cold, pale hands grasped his shoulders. He flung a weak spell at her chest. Her pale skin bubbled, then slowly began to heal as she sneered. He was far too weak to damage her.

  Whitney ran back to them. “Kazimir, you don’t need to do this!”

  “You don’t know what needs to be done, thief,” he said. “As long as this pathetic new band of corrupt, untested mystics lives, none of us is safe. They aren’t worthy of Elsewhere and will only breed darkness as their ancestors did. Sora’s father killed the last that were.”

  Whitney watched Sigrid drag Kai from the room, screaming up the stairs. The lust for his blood, which she couldn’t sample with her muzzle, had her even more powerful. Whitney paled to think what she’d do to him after fully indulging.

  “Says the assassin upyr,” Whitney said. “He helped us. You don’t need to hurt him.”

  Kazimir removed his long cape and tunic, then began undoing his belt. “Sigrid only means to watch him. She cannot feed.”

  “I just met her, and I already know you can barely control her!”

  “I got you to play along in Elsewhere, didn’t I? Enough of this, Whitney Fierstown. If he tries anything, she will do what is needed, and she will guard us if there are more of his kind hiding. For now, we enter those waters before Aihara Na returns to this realm, and you will learn, perhaps, that sometimes the truth is better off forgotten. As it was for Sora.”

  XVI

  The Daughter

  Mahi hurled her spear and took out a Trisps’I Shesaitju riding bareback on a zhulong. The force of the throw knocked him off and into a wall. She grabbed hold of it as she ran, spun around it, and used it to launch herself onto the back of the frantic beast.

  It bucked and kicked, but she leaned forward and whispered calming words into its ear.

  “Take Babrak down!” she yelled, kicking the zhulong in the haunches. It barreled forward through a Shieldsman, leaving the man screaming and writhing on the road. An arrow raced by her face as she watched, and plunged into the chest of another enemy ready to trip her mount with a spear—as if such a beast could be thwarted in such a way.

  A glance up revealed Bit’rudam darting across the rooftops, following her route, letting arrows fly like a guardian Siren watching over her, refusing to let another afhem die.

  On the streets before her, the ci
ty’s markless populace threw themselves into battle. One leaped from a window onto the mounted Glassman in front of her. Another was trampled trying to stop one. Thousands of feet rampaging through Nahanab coated the city in a thick fog of dust, the coppery smell of blood and rotting flesh permeating it all.

  Mahi slashed down at a Glass soldier and whipped around a corner onto the city’s main avenue. There, she saw Babrak, far up ahead near the gates, ripping one of his own men off a zhulong. Then, he forced the same man to help lift his bulbous, injured rump onto the saddle.

  “Babrak!” she roared, leveling her spear in his direction. He was surrounded by his men, in full retreat alongside the Glass army.

  “My Afhem!” Bit’rudam shouted down from his perch above her, drawing her attention. He peered off into the distance, to the south, brow furrowed, visibly perplexed. “That is a sandstorm on the horizon. We must find cover!”

  Mahi shouldn’t have been surprised. Thunderstorms were rare in the Black Sands, and they usually meant a sandstorm would soon follow, though it was impossible to predict exactly where and when they’d strike. They were a shifting of the tides, said to be stirred by the Sirens. She couldn’t imagine a worse time for one.

  Ignoring Bit’rudam, Mahraveh pressed onward, pushing her zhulong as fast as it could go in Babrak’s direction. The giant afhem finally finished mounting his own ride and raced out ahead of his forces like the milksop he was. But under his weight, the beast couldn’t move as fast as Mahi’s.

  Weaving in and out of his forces, deflecting blows, dodging men, she pressed toward him. She wasn’t here to kill her own people, only the man who'd poisoned their minds with lies about how being subservient to the Glass would somehow help them.

  Babrak passed through the city gates where a wall of enemies funneled to block her path. Mahi pulled on her mount’s mane, and its enormous claws dug canals into the sandy street as it turned. Its long, spiked tail smashed against the Glassmen, shattering several shields into splinters. Spotting a ramp, she prodded the zhulong up and toward the city’s fortifications.