The Call of Ancient Light

by Ben Wolf

  Commander Anigo strode up the stairs and found Pordone’s room—now his room. Despite the relative chaos of the last weeks, the bed was made, the floors were clean, and afternoon sunshine streamed through the solitary window. It might’ve been that Pordone left it in this state before his demise.

  The only thing off about the room was the chest at the foot of the bed, whose top stood open rather than being shut. A minor inconvenience, given the circumstances.

  He walked forward and tipped the chest’s lid forward. Its hinges squeaked as it fell into place and clomped shut, restoring the room to its otherwise acceptable state.

  Acceptable, not comfortable.

  Needs, not wants.

  “Commander Anigo?” a soldier asked from behind him.

  He turned around.

  The soldier saluted, smiling. “I’m Corporal Bezarion. I dispatched the messenger to Solace as soon as we returned from our search.”

  “And?” Commander Anigo removed his gauntlets and handed them to the corporal.

  “Sir?” Corporal Bezarion tilted his head as he received the gauntlets.

  “Am I to commend you for doing your duty, soldier?”

  “N-no, sir,” Corporal Bezarion replied. “I just figured you’d—”

  “Let me make one thing perfectly clear to you, Corporal.” Commander Anigo approached Bezarion, who stood two inches shorter than him. When they stood face-to-face, Commander Anigo continued. “You are never to ‘figure’ anything as far as I am concerned. You will obey orders, and you will do so with haste.

  “Assumptions and a lackadaisical attitude toward enforcing the King’s law is what landed us in this dismal situation in the first place. Such blatant carelessness is reprehensible and a stain upon the reputation of the King’s army. It ends today, with my arrival to this outpost. Crystal?”

  Corporal Bezarion nodded. “Clear, sir. Perfectly.”

  “I will take my supper in my room this evening.” The last leg of Commander Anigo’s journey from Solace had worn both him and his horse out, though he had no inclination to explain that to Corporal Bezarion or the other soldiers. He added, “Immediately.”

  Corporal Bezarion glanced at the window and the afternoon sunlight aglow from it. “Apologies, sir, but it is still quite early. Dinner has not yet been—”

  “I don’t care to repeat myself, Corporal.” Commander Anigo stared steel at him. “Ever.”

  Corporal Bezarion nodded again, this time more frantically. “My apologies again, sir. I’ll have it prepared for you right away.”

  Commander Anigo shook his head and sat on the bed, again lamenting his appointment to this miserable place.

  Needs, not wants, he reminded himself. Needs, not wants.

  At dawn the next morning, Commander Anigo headed down to the courtyard. His horse, a white stallion he’d named Candlestick, munched on a bag of oats near a water trough with the other horses, already packed with provisions and weapons for their journey into the wild.

  If nothing else, at least Commander Anigo had Candlestick with him, here in this backwoods province. Even if he couldn’t trust anyone else, he knew Candlestick wouldn’t let him down.

  To their credit, the soldiers already awaited him with packs in tow and swords sheathed at their sides. Disheveled as they were, given the early hour, they snapped to attention upon his command.

  “We will not return until our mission is complete. Mount up, if you have horses.” He raised his fist and said, “For the King.”

  The soldiers shouted the second half of the mantra back at him, “May he forever reign!”

  Commander Anigo turned toward the open gates of the Rock Outpost and stared into the wild forest beyond.

  The fugitives’ time was limited. He would soon find them, and he would bring them to justice.

  The next morning, Calum woke up first and stretched his sore limbs. He sat up and checked the gouges in his forearm, which had crusted over in the night. He’d survive.

  Axel moaned and pushed himself up to a sitting position. “It smells terrible around here. The cats must be starting to rot.”

  The remaining cat carcasses still lay around the camp where they’d been slain.

  Calum wrinkled his nose at the stench and nodded. “At least we didn’t get attacked again.”

  Axel grunted and muttered something, but Calum couldn’t understand even a single word. “What do we have left for breakfast?”

  “I think we had a bit of smoked venison left, and maybe a couple of potatoes.” Calum scanned the campsite for the bag of food but didn’t see it. Maybe it had been moved during the fight. “We definitely need to hunt today, unless you want to eat rotting sabertooth cat meat.”

  “No thanks.” Axel stuck his tongue out. “Give me my spear any day, and I’ll get us something. After breakfast, at least. Where’s the food?”

  Still sitting, Calum looked around again and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe Magnus moved it.”

  “Well, get up and help me look for it.”

  After a few minutes of searching the campsite, they still hadn’t found the bag.

  “Alright. Enough of this nonsense.” Axel walked over to Magnus, who lay in a shallow burrow in the dry dirt, still asleep, and kicked him in his hip. “Wake up, Scales.”

  “Axel, cut it out.” Calum glared at him.

  “What? He can regenerate. That cut Burtis gave him last month healed by the next morning.” Axel kicked Magnus again. “I said wake up.”

  Magnus growled and latched onto Axel’s ankle, then he yanked.

  Axel landed on his rear-end as Magnus stood to his full height.

  “What’d you do that for?” Axel glowered up at Magnus, who now towered over him.

  “I do not enjoy being kicked.”

  Axel scrambled to his feet and stood well within Magnus’s space. “And I don’t enjoy getting knocked on my rear-end.”

  “Then perhaps you should alter your behavior.”

  “Enough, both of you.” Calum held up his hands, and the two separated. “Magnus, where’d you put the bag of food?”

  “I did not put it anywhere. I left it near the campfire where we always keep it.”

  “It’s not there anymore.”

  Magnus tilted his head. “Then I do not know where it is.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Axel extended his arms out to his sides. “You had it last. Where is it?”

  “I said I do not know.”

  Axel pointed at him. “You ate the rest of the food after we went to sleep, didn’t you?”

  Magnus straightened up. “Why do you accuse me?”

  “Why don’t you answer the question?”

  “I did not eat the rest of the food.” This time, Magnus stepped into Axel’s space. “And I categorically deny all assertions otherwise.”

  This time Calum physically stepped between the two of them. He had no doubt that Magnus was telling the truth. If anything, Axel’s insistence made him look guiltier than Magnus.

  But even so, Calum didn’t believe Axel had eaten the rest of the food, either.

  “Maybe we left the bag somewhere and forgot about it,” he said, hoping his words would broker a more lasting peace between his friends. “Maybe it got kicked over the edge sometime during the fight with the sabertooths. Maybe something else happened to it.”

  Magnus’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped away from Axel and Calum and examined the ground.

  “That’s right.” Axel sneered. “Back up, Scales.”

  Magnus’s tail whipped toward Axel and whacked his shoulder.

  Axel staggered to one side, off-balance from the blow. “Hey!”

  “Apologies,” Magnus said flatly as he crouched low to the dirt. “I think Calum may be on to something.”

  Calum raised his eyebrows. “I am?”

  “Perhaps. There appear to be some faint footprints here among ours and those of the sabertooths.”

  “Those cats trampled this whole area, and you
think you’re seeing footprints?” Axel rolled his eyes. “Sounds like another ploy to distract us from figuring out you ate the rest of the food.”

  Magnus pointed to a spot in the dirt. “Then how do you account for this?”

  Axel and Calum leaned closer.

  Axel shrugged. “What? I don’t see anything.”

  “There. A perfect comparison. You can see a large paw print, and next to it, a smaller one.” Magnus looked at Calum. “Do you see it?”

  “I do, but what does that prove?” Calum asked.

  “Proves you’re gullible.” Axel scoffed. “That’s what it proves.”

  “Someone or something else was here last night,” Magnus continued, ignoring Axel.

  “So a smaller paw print proves something else was here?” Axel shook his head. “Maybe one of the cats had smaller feet.”

  “No. The shape of the paw is different. Entirely different.” Magnus nodded. “It appears we had a unique visitor last night.”

  Axel nudged Calum’s arm. “How are you falling for this? He’s clearly making stuff up.”

  “I don’t think so.” Calum had ignored Axel for as long as he could. “Now that he pointed the prints out, I see more of them leading in the same direction, away from the camp. I think he’s right.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “The tracks enter the camp from the northeast and then exit due east.” Magnus’s eyes traced the route. “He was a quiet one, too.”

  Calum tilted his head. “He?”

  Magnus turned to face him. “I’m assuming it is a ‘he,’ but I don’t know for sure.”

  “It?” Axel squinted at him. “So what is this ‘it’ that supposedly stole our last bag of food?”

  Magnus smirked. “A Wolf.”

  “Alright, now I know you’re making this up.” Axel scoffed again. “You’re trying to tell us that a wild dog ran in here and stole our last bag of food in the night?”

  “Exactly, except for the ‘wild dog’ part. He probably looks like a wild dog, but Wolves are sentient, intelligent beings just like you and me,” Magnus said. “They differ greatly from the sabertooths we engaged last night. They are their own species, and they have souls just like we do.”

  Axel shook his head. “I still think you’re making this up.”

  Magnus swept his hand toward the edge of the cliff. “Unlike me, you have never ventured to the other side of that valley. Humans rule this entire half of Kanarah, but across the valley, three races divide Western Kanarah. A member of one of them, the Wolves, robbed us last night while we slept.”

  Calum glanced at Axel. In all his sixteen years, he’d never learned about any other race except for humans. He hadn’t even known what a Saurian was until the soldiers brought Magnus into the quarry all those weeks ago.

  “There are more races than humans and Saurians?” Calum added, “And Wolves?”

  Magnus nodded. “Yes. We Saurians live in the north, among the Blood Mountains and in Reptilius. The Windgales have the southern kingdom and the Aeropolis because they can fly. A rocky arid region known as the Desert of the Forgotten divides our two realms. It is controlled by the Wolves, most of whom live there.”

  “Then how come I’ve never seen any of these other races?” Axel challenged. “Aside from your ugly mug, of course?”

  A hiss issued from Magnus’s nostrils at Axel.

  “C’mon, Axel,” Calum said, again playing peacemaker. “It’s not like you got out much before this.”

  “More than you,” Axel countered.

  “Yet clearly not enough,” Magnus said. “If you had, perhaps you’d be less bigoted and insolent all the time.”

  Axel frowned and pointed an accusatory finger at Magnus. “I don’t know what those words mean, but I don’t have to take this kind of verbal abuse from a scaly freak of nature like you.”

  “The reason you do not see other races is because of the King’s soldiers,” Magnus explained despite Axel’s anger.

  “What do you mean?” Calum asked.

  “The King claims dominion over all of Kanarah, but his soldiers clearly favor humans over the others to the point of mistreating or even abusing them. We have little reason to spend time on the eastern side of Kanarah in light of such persecution and favoritism.” Magnus’s gaze hardened and he glared at Axel. “That mentality has pervaded even the outermost fringes of the human race, I see.”

  Axel rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “Whatever.”

  “Nevertheless, I am certain our culprit is a Wolf.”

  “So…” Calum briefly considered what that could mean for them, but he came to very few conclusions. “What do we do now?”

  “There is nothing else to do but follow the plan we set yesterday: head east and find some food, then return here and try to find a way down into the valley.”

  Trader’s Pass/The Valley of the Tri-Lakes

  The first two weeks of Lilly’s journey across Trader’s Pass had breezed by without incident.

  She had precisely zero opportunities to escape as the slave traders watched her with even more diligence than ever. Two or more of them always escorted to her to relieve herself—now only in broad daylight and usually without any hope of privacy whatsoever, as the Valley of the Tri-Lakes entirely lacked for foliage of any kind.

  Sometimes she managed to find a large rock or a small hill behind which she could conceal herself when the time came, but rocks and hills didn’t keep the men escorting her from indulging themselves in long, lascivious looks. Still, it had become so routine that she didn’t even pay them any attention anymore.

  Until one of them dropped to his knees in front of her with a spear lodged in his chest.

  “Get over here, now!” the other slave trader shouted at her.

  But behind him, at least a dozen dark forms leaped over a row of boulders that formed a hedge around the desolate area.

  Bandits?

  The slave trader whirled around and swung his sword at the first of them. He felled the bandit, but the second, third, and fourth rushed him, knocked him to the ground, and stabbed him repeatedly with twisted and tortured weapons while he screamed.

  Lilly bolted back toward the wagons as fast as the shackles on her ankles allowed her to run. Colm had warned her about men like these—bandits who would just as soon kill her as free her. As much as she hated to admit it, she was safer with Roderick and his men.

  “Roderick! Bandits!” she screamed as she hobble-ran. Oh, to be able to fly again! She rounded a large mound and shouted again. “Roderick!”

  He stood near one of the short wagons, gnawing on an apple. Given the vacant terrain around them, he’d given up on personally escorting her anymore. After all, if she ran off, he’d be able to see her for miles in any direction.

  As she approached, Lilly noticed the tan fabric that normally covered one of the wagons was pulled back. From inside, she caught a glimpse of shimmering blue fabric and light-pink plating—it had to be her cape and her armor.

  She noted the brown color of the donkey pulling the cart compared to the gray donkey that hauled the other, and she committed the information to memory.

  Roderick’s gaze fixed on her then widened at the sight of the horde that followed her. He tossed his apple aside and drew his broadsword. “Formation!”

  His slave traders formed around him with Luggs to his right and Gammel and Adgar to his left, each of them wielding swords. The archers among them took positions and drew their bows back.

  Lilly clanked forward, but the huffs and unintelligible shouts of the bandits behind her drew ever closer. She chanced a look back.

  The bandits would overtake her in seconds.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Lilly faced forward again, Roderick had already closed to within five feet of her position. He zoomed past her in a blur of brown armor and spiky red hair, and a series of heavy smacks and clangs sounded behind her.

  “Archers!” Luggs shouted.

  The archers
let loose a flurry of arrows in rapid succession, and some of them barely missed Lilly. Gammel and Adgar met her partway and escorted her back to the wagon while the others charged forward and engaged the bandits.

  In the center of the fracas, Roderick roared and swung his sword as if he were invincible. As Lilly watched him decimate half the bandits single-handedly, she wondered if maybe he was.

  “Child, are you alright?” Colm reached for her with frail and tentative fingers

  Behind him, Sharion dug into the hay and covered her head.

  Lilly nodded and sucked in several deep breaths, more winded from fear than from running. In the distance, Roderick leveled three bandits in one swing of his huge sword.

  Unbelievable.

  Within minutes, the fight ended as the last of the bandits, a handful compared to the number they’d started with, fled back the way they’d came. Roderick wiped his sword on the tattered clothes of one of the dead bandits, sheathed it, and started back toward the caravan. Splotches of blood glistened on his armored chest and arms, and more dotted his smiling face.

  Is he even human? Or is he something… else?

  Eastern Kanarah

  To Calum’s relief, a few days and a few dead animals later, the trio reached the foothills at the eastern edge of the Snake Mountains and found a small village by the name of Pike’s Garrison a few miles south, nestled among a forest full of towering evergreen and broadleaf trees.

  As discussed, Magnus hid in an inconspicuous spot on the outskirts of the village while Calum and Axel headed into its heart to see if they could trade for food.

  “Is there even a market for sabertooths?” Axel pulled one of the fangs out of the sack he carried. “Er—saberteeth?”

  Calum shook his head. “I don’t know. Guess we’ll find out.”

  Several villagers gave them tentative looks as they walked through the village. Whether it was from their scratched-up soldiers’ armor or the foot-long sabertooth fang Axel constantly held in his hand, Calum didn’t know.

  Most of the homes in the village looked as if they’d been there for a hundred years. The stones that formed the houses’ exteriors had long since smoothed from weathering, and the wooden doors and doorframes bore decades-old scars and gashes.