by Linn Tesli
“Fyrax,” Archenon whispered. The dragon’s chest rose and fell in a bothered motion.
“Yes?”
“Would you like to perform magic with me?”
Fyrax turned his long neck toward Archenon, the silver tint of his skin reflected in the dragon’s wide eyes. “About time you asked.”
Archenon sprang to his feet and walked to the edge of the platform, the sizzling lava beckoning to him from below. “We are going to need some candles. One for each element.”
Fyrax scoffed. “We are bound, Fire Born. We have no need for trifling accessories like spirit candles. You and I can do without.”
Perhaps they could. Archenon nodded. Fyrax might be mad, but he definitely knew what he was talking about this time.
“Then we will summon them in fire.” Archenon glowed with excitement. He yearned to feel the surge of power in his borrowed bones.
“And when we are done we will deal with that vile Lord sitting on your throne,” Fyrax said, as if he had just read Archenon’s thoughts. Perhaps bonding them together had brought them too close? Only time would tell.
“His time will come. However, first we need an army.”
”A simple spell ought to do it. Channel your desires, and we will make it happen.”
”I cannot raise everyone from the dead. It has to be more specific.”
”Agreed. How about those who have perished in a fire in this land, say over the past hundred years? That should work nicely.” The shine in Fyrax’s eye told Archenon that the dragon was excited at the prospect of doing magic as well. Even if it was something as sinister as this. Archenon wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He had summoned someone from the dead before. That had not turned out the way he expected, though she was his mother and that had been different. He was older now and had learned from his mistake. Also, this time, he had help. He shut his eyes, one hand on the dragon’s front leg, the other stretched outward. He had to word the spell so that there was an out if things went awry. He had forgotten about that the last time he rose someone from their grave, foolish as he had been.
A familiar tingle rose from his sternum, spreading slowly, filling him up. Fyrax’s pulse quickened under Archenon’s touch, and the energy moved through them both. They focused on their intentions and Archenon recited the new spell.
“Spirits, I chain you to my will.
Perished in fire, I bind you to the earth.
You shall have no wings to fly, but rebirth
Through soil and fire, ash and bone
Through my will, it shall be done
You will know but my command
and keep the pain of strife
Let spirit linger when their body has no life
Not immortal, but undone
When the mind is lost and body cold,
only true death can once again be found
Death is absolved by this spell.”
Fyrax roared, spreading his wings as far as they could reach.
“That is what I call a spell,” he boomed. “It tickles my scales, it’s that good.”
Archenon grinned. He opened his eyes and looked at the dragon. “Do you feel them?”
Fyrax blew out his chest. “I feel them digging, clawing, stretching. They are trying to find a way out of their resting place. When they do, they will come to us, their masters. And we will have an army unlike any other. Hadeth will not survive, and you can claim your rightful throne. I was not sure about you, my King. But it seems you are not Vaedex.”
Archenon’s heart skipped in his chest. Fyrax knew?
The dragon’s thundering laugh bellowed through the air. “You are better than he ever was.”
He didn’t know. Archenon exhaled as gently as possible.
“The dead are coming. And soon, my friend, soon we will soar.”
Archenon inhaled with content. Lycobris was only a stepping stone, but a vital part of his plan. His mind drifted, and Ayva’s face was embodied in his memory. As a host in Zarcos’s flesh, Caradrea was as good as his, and he was about to rule Lycobris too. Once he had gotten rid of the other Elementals, he could finally seek her out. And together, they would reign over all of Aradria. She would love him, and Aradria would be theirs.
“Where did your mind go?” Fyrax purred.
Archenon leaned into the dragon. “I was only thinking of how far we can fly.”
“As far as you want, my king.”
“As far as I want. I like that.”
“Your desires have grown?” Fyrax’s tongue snaked out, caressing Archenon’s cheek.
“They have, old friend.”
“Good. I have no allegiance to anyone other than fire and my king. Where you go, I go. Such is our bond.”
Archenon smiled. Having a dragon on his side might be the best decision he had made in all his miserable life. “Such is our bond.”
16
DEAD RISING
- Kenith -
Niila and Kenith had left the elves trailing them a few housings behind. He didn’t wish for them to come, though Niila had insisted. A few guards were on duty down at the barricades, but most had been sent to protect Vulkan city against the imminent threat on the throne—against Kenith. The guards were nothing but dark shades in the twilight.
He froze. This was it.
“Kenith?” Niila asked. “Are you coming?”
A steady stream of tears flowed from Kenith’s eye as he slumped down. He plunged his fist to the ground, digging a handful of soil into his palm. The dirt was dry and ashen. Niila crouched next to him and folded her hands around his cheeks. No one could tell that there had once been a large housing on this very spot unless they had known about it.
“We’re here.” Kenith sobbed.
Niila knelt next to him, trailing her fingers in the dirt. She sighed deeply.
“This was the place, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“This... this is where I killed a hundred innocent children.”
“Remember! You had no idea. It wasn’t your fault.”
Her bright blue eyes were soft, and the freckles on her forehead merged in her gentle frown. Kenith leaned in and met her sweet lips with his. The taste of berries and summer rain filled his mouth. How she had not left him yet was beyond him. But as long as she stayed, he would have her. He would not wish to have come here with anyone else.
The ground shook, sending Kenith to his back. He rolled back on his knees. Pieces of charred planks and nails rattled as the ash lifted from the ground, tiny particles of dust crawling up Kenith’s nose, only to slide back out and be swept away by the wind. They backed up. Clods of dirt sprayed upward as a myriad of twisted, charred hands plunged free of the earth. Niila tugged at Kenith’s arm, dragging him away to hide behind a shed. Kenith peeked around the edge of the corner; he had to watch.
Arms, heads and broken bodies followed hands. A throng of malformed children, aging from two to fifteen years of age, emerged from the earth. Their ghostlike appearances of dark blue shades twisted in ways a human could not. Kenith’s breath caught in his throat. Even in their deteriorated form, Kenith recognized every one of them. These were the children who had perished in the fire for which he was responsible. His heart raced as the ground opened up, sending a series of tremors through the earth, spiking up the length of Kenith’s feet. He barely registered Niila’s hands folded around his waist. Another figure rose from the ground. This one was bigger, with long raven tresses billowing in the sudden gusts of wind. She turned her head, but not her body, and Kenith rushed back, shoving Niila with him. She released her hold, and he sank to the ground, shivering and hugging himself.
“I know them all,” Kenith whispered through chattering teeth.
The ground shook again as the dead began marching away from their graves, heading south-west.
Niila made a shushing sound and brought her arms back around him. She sat next to Kenith and stroked his back as the night became filled by a chilling laugh, accompanied by the eerie giggles of
a hundred dead children.
“Where are they going?” Niila whispered.
There was only one place they could be headed towards. “Vulkan Mountain.” He shuddered.
Gaija and Haiz came running at them, gracefully jumping past the many pits that had been left in the ground.
The old shaman cocked her head in the direction of the dead. “We could not wait for you any longer when we heard all the noise.”
“What happened?” Haiz asked.
Niila kept nestling Kenith her arms. “The children from Kenith’s orphanage. They rose from their graves.”
“The dead do not simply rise of their own accord. They were summoned,” Haiz snorted.
“Summoned?” Kenith wriggled out of Niila’s embrace and stood. He wiped his nose, gazing in the direction of Vulkan Mountain. “Who would do that?”
“Only a sorcerer possesses such a power.” Haiz shrugged.
“We will have to deal with it later.” Gaija turned her hands back and forth. “The barricades are filling with guards. I think the Vaexennas we encountered earlier might be looking for us, and the dead didn’t exactly rise quietly.”
A multitude of shadows spread out along the barricades. Gaija was right, it would be impossible to climb them at this point.
”This way,” Kenith whispered, waving at the women to follow him south-east. “We’re close.” He knelt between two oaks and started digging around a pile of branches. He shrugged away the shivers clinging to his body and a broad grin spread out on his face as the tunnel revealed itself in front of him. ”Still here.”
”How did you know about this?” Niila arched an eyebrow.
”I dug it. About eight years ago. I think I knew I was going to have to escape at some point.” He took her hand and led her into the blackness of the tunnel, with the two elves close at their backs. It had been created for a much younger version of himself, so they were forced to crawl, the same way he had crawled out when he escaped from the fire nearly two years earlier. Gaija was small for an elf, but Haiz would have to crawl on her stomach to fit. He didn’t hear her complain once.
Coming back here, to this, was some sick twist of fate he hadn’t counted on, but he was glad the tunnel was still here. It was the second time he’d used it to escape a horrifying scene and avoid the Vaexennas. The guards he was supposed to commandeer. He shook his head. They couldn’t deal with every challenge all at once. Right now they needed to get to Elfen Lyconis.
They crawled for what must have been at least a couple of hours before Kenith’s hands met a wall.
“We made it,” he said. He pushed at the wall, and the dim light of dawn fell on his face.
They emerged from the earth, and Niila took a couple of strides ahead. The line of trees loomed in front of them. Elfen Lyconis was exactly as Kenith remembered. Large and uninviting. The path had nearly grown over since he was last here. Not many people traveled through these parts anymore.
The women stepped into the forest while Kenith lingered. The wild elves were shy and rarely seen outside the woods. Most people had not dealt with them for decades, if you didn’t take the Heartless King into account. And now Kenith was about to ask them to once again step out of their home. And for what? To fight his cause. Why would they?
“Come on,” Niila shouted over her shoulder.
Kenith picked up a twig to nibble on and followed the women into the thicket.
17
ELFEN LYCONIS
- Kenith -
The line of trees closed in around Kenith, Niila and the two shamans. The weeds were dense, and the massive Linden trees shaded the afternoon sun. Kenith pushed a table of branches aside only to be slapped in the face by another branch. It stung, and his feet were sore. The growls from his stomach were enough to alert any animals nearby to know they were coming.
Niila took his hand. “We’ll find a place to rest soon. I’ll hunt us something to eat, and you can relax.”
What had he done to deserve her? She was always there when he needed her, always saying the right words. She knew he was hurting—not the physical pain, but the images of his dead friends were going to be enough to keep him awake for nights to come.
“This way,” Gaija said as she veered down a sloping thicket of dandelions. “The path is down here.”
Haiz skipped ahead, and Niila and Kenith followed. They slid down the slope after the shamans. Trimmed weeds and a solid path emerged in front of them.
”This is where I leave you,” Gaija said, brushing the dirt off her garments. Not that it did her much good.
Kenith kicked his foot in the ground. He’d been in Elfen Lyconis before, but the last time he was there he was on the run, hiding and avoiding the wild elves as much as he could. And instead of trying to get away from Lycobris altogether, he was about to do anything in his power to stay in this land—his land. It was a strange thought to think that Lycobris was his birthright, not just his birthplace. The wild elves had lived in Lyconis for as long as history remembered. What reasons would they have to accept Kenith as regent? And though Haiz was with them, Gaija was choosing to leave?
”Are you sure this is right?” He eyed the shaman. ”Your kin has never been friendly to outsiders entering their territory. Are you sure they won’t just put an arrow through our chests before we even get the chance to say hello?”
Niila took his hand. ”He’s right. Everything I know about the wild elves has taught me that they don’t allow humans or Devlings into their homes.”
”But you’re not entirely human, and you’re certainly not Devlings. Kenith has fire in his bones. The Wild Elves can’t fail to see who he is.”
Haiz turned back. She was several strides ahead of them on the path.
”Kenith has fire in his bones. He will bring our fertility back. We see who he is, and we welcome him,” she called.
Fertility? That was absurd. Kenith almost laughed at the thought of the elves thinking he could somehow make them bear full-blooded children again.
Gaija tilted her head back and forth. “Haiz will get you to where you need to be.” She lowered her voice so that only the Elementals could hear. “Tread carefully. My kin are secretive and merciless if need be. Follow their rules, and you should be safe, but don’t trust my daughter or my people.”
“You’re leaving us?” Haiz said as she stepped closer.
“I am.”
“Good. And don’t worry. The Elementals will be taken care of.”
Gaija hesitated. “My daughter came to find you. You’re safe with her.”
“I came to find him. Not the water born,” Haiz scoffed. “But since they seem inseparable, I will allow it. For now.” She turned to Kenith. “Not to worry, My Prince. I’m the shaman. My word is law in these parts. They will not harm a hair on your head.”
“Or hers?” Kenith pulled Niila to him.
The wild elf shaman flared her nostrils. “They will do as I command.”
Gaija’s lips contracted. Who knew what she was thinking? The old elf had never been easy to read, and if her kin had secrets, so did she. However, Kenith had to believe she wanted what was best for him—and all the other Elementals. Whatever secrets Gaija had, she was sure to have her reasons, and as long as she was on their side, those were none of his concern.
Niila threw her arms around Gaija. “Thank you for protecting him.”
“Right.” Gaija stepped out of Niila’s arms, offering her hand to her daughter. “I’m off, then. Got someplace to be. I trust them in your hands, mò mìn.”
Haiz eyed Gaija’s hand for a moment before shaking it. “Will you be back with us soon, mà mìn?” she asked.
“No promises, I’m afraid. But I’m so very proud of you.” Gaija cupped her other hand around Haiz’s cheek, then turned away.
The younger elf shook herself and angled her head at the path ahead. “No time to waste. My people are waiting.”
Gaija patted Niila on the back with firm hands. “I’ll see you soon enough, youn
glings.” She skipped backward and turned up the sloping hill to disappear out of sight.
“Come on then.” Haiz waved her hands in the air.
Niila and Kenith walked, arm in arm, following the young shaman deeper into the heart of Lyconis. As the sun fell lower in the sky to light up the forest with glimmering hues of pink light, it was like the forest came alive in a way Kenith could not remember. He recalled the woods to be dark and uninviting. Now it was buzzing with life. A flock of birds was singing somewhere in the canopy and a gentle trickle of water over stones sounded close by. He glanced at Niila, who had a serene look on her face. Her eyes were half shut and her lips curved into a gentle smile. She had heard the water, too. Of course she had. And long before him. He was glad she found some comfort in this place.
Haiz angled her head upward. “They have been waiting for you, My Prince, waiting for you to take your rightful place on the Lycobrian throne. You’ll find that, though this forest is crawling with scouts, most who live here will answer only to you. The true fire born.”
Kenith’s throat clogged. He coughed and found a twig to nibble on. Had the forest known who he was the last time he was here? He had managed to get all the way to Caradrea before finding Miro, and finally having to flee from the Silverlings. It seemed a lifetime ago.
”Only a little further. Just stay on the path.” Haiz pushed Niila and Kenith ahead of her.
They walked side by side, deeper and deeper into the home turf of the elves. With every step forward, the trees grew taller, the stems thicker. Niila stopped, her hand resting on a large trunk. She let go of Kenith’s arm and traced her fingers down the bark.