by Jeff Gunzel
Impossibly, they both sank down into the ground, his face twisted with panicked fear, hers twisted with rage. Like sinking into a pool of water, they dipped down below the solid surface, white ash bubbling and steaming where they disappeared.
“Viola!” Xavier yelled, blood running from the side of his mouth. With a mighty effort, he inched his broken body towards the bubbling ash. “Viola!” he cried out a second time, gazing in horror at the smoldering spot. Suddenly, white hair emerged from the bubbling ash. Inch by inch, Viola rose from the ground like a ghost. Her eyes were intense, cold, like those of a creature void of all emotion. “Viola?” Xavier repeated, his voice soft and unsure.
“He is gone,” she said, her voice every bit as cold as her eyes. “He was a monster, true. But it seems I am the bigger monster.”
*
Resigned to his fate, Liam gazed into the hollow eyes of the frozen creature before him. Claws twitched for an instant, crumbs of crystal sifting to the ground. Soon enough they would break free, and the mystic could do nothing to stop it. Strangely, his thoughts were not of his own forfeited life, but of the others. Had they managed to save Viola? Were they all right? He was but a single man who would face certain death the moment these ghatins broke free. “All death is certain,” he reminded himself. But if Viola had managed to escape, perhaps his death would have meaning.
The surrounding tarrins moved closer to him, approaching with caution. Some carried their dead; others still gripped weapons as if they would do any good.
“Go,” said Liam, dismissing them with a flick of his hand. “Get as far away as you can before they break free. There is nothing else you can do here.” They stared at him with milky white eyes, blank expressions all around. A tarrin holding his dead brethren laid the corpse on the ground and sat by his side. One by one, others began to sit, clearly having no intention of fleeing.
“Suit yourselves,” Liam sighed. “In the end it will matter not.” Another ghatin moved, its hand closing into a fist as more crystal crumbs sprinkled down. The mystic scooped up a bit of dirt and ash in his hand, then watched it sift down between this fingers. “Completely trapped by a binding curse, yet they’ve found a way to reach us anywhere in the world,” he muttered, watching the fine stream sprinkle to the ground. “This cursed ash... If only we could—” He closed his fist, then threw the rest down on the ground. “Take shelter!” he bellowed, surging to his feet. “Return to your homes and barricade the windows and doors.”
Not questioning the mystic’s command, tarrins began to scramble about, climbing up ladders and steps to find shelter. His staff in hand, Liam raced towards the steps at the base of the boxa tree. He hesitated a moment before leaping up the stairway, often bounding three steps at a time. There was no time left, and his fear of heights would have to wait.
When he reached the top, he saw a wounded woman down on her knees inside the temple. After taking a few steps towards her, Assirra waved him off, assuring him she was all right. Whatever he was going to do, he’d best do it now.
Standing at the edge of the platform, he raised his staff above his head. Rotating it in slow sweeping circles, he began his guttural chanting. The winds started to pick up, leaves spiraling up into the air. Liam’s long white hair lifted from his shoulders, waving around as if air were rushing up from under his feet. The clouds above began to boil, turning black as they churned.
His voice gained strength as the wind increased, an angry sky now creating hurricane-like conditions. His eyes lit up, a white shining light that seemed to radiate all around. With a final twirl, he slammed his staff down, creating a soundless boom that shook the boxa tree to its roots. A black tail funneled down from the dark clouds, its spinning head rotating towards the ground. Once the twister touched down, others began to form, black spinning tails funneling down from above.
One by one they touched down, pulling up leaves and dirt, sending debris straight up into the sky. The twisters danced in and out of one another, occasionally uniting as one before separating a few seconds later.
With a crackling sound the crystal encasing the ghatins shattered, releasing them in an explosion of flying shards. Like levitating specters they rushed at Liam, rising straight up as if shot from the ground. Within seconds, the mystic found himself eye to eye with a stretched, ghostly being. Bright pink eyes glared from a pasty white face, its lipless mouth stretching wide open as if to swallow Liam whole. But something tugged at its body, pulling it back the other direction. As ash on the ground was being swallowed up by the black funnels, the ghatins were losing their temporary grip on the surface world.
“Go back to your fiery hell!” Liam commanded, his eyes still blazing with white light. “Return to your cursed home of fire and ash, demons!”
The ghatin’s face seemed to stretch and pull, his smooth features strained from effort. “This is but the beginning, old man,” it rumbled, its white body turning translucent before Liam’s eyes. “Time means nothing to us. Soon, we will return in numbers you can’t possibly imagine.”
“And we shall be waiting,” Liam said, his voice a calm whisper. The creatures’ bodies stretched out like strings as they were sucked into the funnels. One by one the twisters retracted into the sky, black tails absorbed back into the clouds above. The blackened sky began to clear, the winds dying down to form a gentle breeze.
Covered in sweat, Liam turned back to assist Assirra. He could only hope she was still breathing. But already on her feet, he watched as she removed a hand from her wound. Aside from the dried blood ringed around the torn clothing, the wound was completely healed.
“Help me gather the wounded and even the dead,” she said, appearing strong and healthy. “I fear I have much work to do.”
“I will assist when I can,” Liam replied, relieved to see her well but concerned for the safety of his own party. “But I must first set out to find my friends.” Weak in the knees, he hobbled further out on the platform and gazed down below. His heart nearly leapt from his chest when he saw them. Obviously wounded, both Owen and Xavier came into view. Viola stood between them, providing support from under each of their arms. She stopped to wave, then slipped her arm back around Owen’s waist.
Relief washing over him, Liam waved back. They were alive and well. Clearly they were injured, but they had certainly come to the right place for that to be addressed. Assirra walked up next to him.
“She’s tougher than she looks,” Assirra said, reading Liam’s mind. “Thanks to all of you we are safe for the time being. Come now; the other wounded need our help. You and I have much work to do.”
Epilogue
“Bring in the next,” said Assirra, signs of weariness seeping into her voice. Ignoring her obvious need to rest, Liam simply gazed on in wonder. No matter how many times he watched her do it, the reality of the feat just couldn’t sink in. Two tarrins carried in a corpse, then set him down within a red circle on the floor with various drawings around it. Eyes glazed over, his gaping chest wound hung wide open. With very little blood left in the body, even the skin around the wound was dried and leathery. This was about as far gone as any subject could be.
Displaying no squeamishness whatsoever, Assirra placed her hands on either side of his chest and began to pray. Although no individual candle seemed to change its hue, the room itself appeared to darken before Liam’s eyes. The subject’s chest lurched up off the floor, the leathery skin around the wound joining back together with a dry, crackling sound. His wide-open eyes blinked once, then twice, starting to moisten with the tears of life. He gasped, chest expanding with the first air those lungs had seen in several hours.
Wracked with coughs, he rolled to the side as Assirra lightly smacked his back. “You are whole again,” she said, seeming just as pleased as the last several times she had performed this miracle of miracles.
“Odao be praised,” he groaned, slowly rising to his feet.
“Indeed,” Assirra replied, watching him hobble away.
�
�I simply can’t believe you can do such a thing,” Liam gasped, dumfounded at what he had seen with his very own eyes.
“Me?” she questioned. “I can’t do anything of the sort. I am but a powerless mortal.”
“Odao?” Liam said, now more convinced than ever that a deity must be behind all this.
She nodded. “I find myself forced to pray anew with each of my fallen brethren. Perhaps Odao will heal their flesh and reignite the fire extinguished from their eyes. Perhaps he feels they have done enough in this life, therefore keeps their life force on the other side. I have no way of telling which he will choose until I pray. Neither choice is wrong. Odao does not make mistakes.”
“I see,” Liam replied simply, having little reason to deny her logic. Besides, there was another matter pressing his mind. “I say, Assirra, would you mind taking a walk with me? I should think a break from all this might do you some good.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow. “A bit of fresh air might do me some good.” She led the way into the front room where Viola, Owen, and Xavier were seated.
“You two are looking much better,” said Liam, admiring the work of his own healing.
“Aye, I be thinking I just might do some dancing tonight,” Owen replied, rotating his arm in wide circles. Viola remained quiet, her eyes on the floor. It was obvious to Liam they were hiding something. What happened to them out there? No matter, he would find out sooner rather than later. For now, he had more pressing questions that needed answering.
After being lowered in the bamboo cage, Assirra and Liam took a stroll. Liam was impressed at how much light the hanging lanterns provided, especially given this time of night. Still, the scene was far from beautiful. Weapons lay scattered about, and even a few bodies that had not yet been recovered.
“We will be leaving soon,” Liam said, finally breaking the long but not uncomfortable silence. “Within a few days’ time, I suspect.”
“Oh?” Assirra replied, sounding a bit surprised. “The three of you are welcome to stay as long as you like. Given my offer of protection, I actually thought you wouldn’t be leaving us at all.”
“And a most generous offer it is,” Liam said. “I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for us already, but we cannot endanger your people any more than we already have. Now that our location is known, we’ll have to keep moving.”
“And where will you go?”
“Even if I knew, I’m not sure it would be in your best interest to tell you. The less you know about our whereabouts, the better for anyone involved.” She nodded, considering. “Also, I would like to have a word or two with Orfi, if that’s all right. Um...does he speak my language?”
“He can communicate,” she replied, an oddly cryptic answer to such a direct question.
“I see,” Liam replied. “Well, I need to understand how he prepared that serum for Viola so quickly.” Assirra shuffled her feet briefly, a subtle, nervous movement. Liam noticed. “You see, most alchemist serums consist of various herbs and plants, some of which are quite rare. And even if you have such items in stock, two or more are usually brewed longer than a day, often at varying temperatures. That mix is then combined with the remaining components, then together they are brewed even longer. Even then, the first batch doesn’t always take. The correct coloring is the first sign, usually followed by a bit of testing.”
Assirra stopped walking, suddenly finding great interest in a rather dull-looking plant. She stroked its long leaves, making an excruciating attempt to find reason not to look Liam in the eyes.
Liam walked around her to face her, forcing her to look at him. “And yet somehow Orfi managed all this in a matter of hours,” he continued. “Most curious, wouldn’t you agree? Since we’ll be without his service, I simply must learn how he defies the laws of time and physics as we understand them.”
Liam purposely let the silence linger a long while before speaking again. “That serum was not only prepared long before we arrived, but it was meant for another,” he accused, his voice soft and dangerous. “Are we going to play this game all evening or are you going to tell me the truth?”
Balling her fist, she broke off the top of the plant and threw it aside in frustration. “Yes, we had the serum on hand,” she admitted.
“And who was it meant for?” he asked.
“We didn’t think he was ever coming back, but we kept it for him anyway,” she said, now looking Liam right in the eye.
“He? Are you saying there are others like Viola?”
She nodded, holding his gaze. “I suspected the moment I saw her. I’m not talking about her obvious affliction. I mean in the same way siblings often look alike. Her eyes, her nose, I just knew I had already seen that face in some capacity.”
“What? What did you suspect? I need you to start from the beginning and tell me everything,” said Liam, suddenly feeling the urge to sit. He flopped down on the ground.
With a sigh, Assirra sat down next to him. “I believe...no, I’m certain…that Viola has a brother... And not unlike her, he is in grave danger.”
Of Blood
and
Blade
By
Jeff Gunzel
Copyright 2016 Jeff Gunzel
Books by Jeff Gunzel
The Legend of the Gate Keeper Series
The Shadow
Land of Shadows
Siege of Night
Lost Empire
Reborn
The Trials of Ashbarn
End of Days
Tainted Blood Series
A Rip in Time
Of Blood and Blade
Winds of Chaos
A Rising Storm
Blood of the Fallen
Legacy
Prologue
The red-and-gold city flags stationed along the outer city walls quivered with ripples, fluttering and snapping in the high winds. Guardsmen patrolled back and forth across the top of the twenty-foot walls, marching twenty paces before turning back with a click of their heels. Disciplined and vigilant, the watchful soldiers were always on high alert these days. The large city of Shadowfen had always been considered one of the safest in the entire realm. But now that word had spread of a shadowed evil working its way across Ayrith, they could no longer be too careful.
With the city guard now doubled on all shifts, recruitment of new soldiers was at an all time high. King Milo Gylbard was even considering implementing a draft of sorts—a rash proposal, to be sure, but one he felt would be needed sooner rather than later. Wisely, his wife Queen Bella rejected the idea as desperate, suggesting the people would surely revolt if such a rash plan were implemented. Reluctantly, he agreed...for now.
In the meantime, the soldiers they did have patrolled the walls day and night throughout three separate shifts. To a man, each soldier was clad in golden chainmail, and breastplates adorned with the city symbol, a black raven holding a leafless branch in its beak. They each wore golden helmets shaped like the head of lion, faceguards folded down leaving only two small holes for them to see through. When patrolling, the faceguards were mandatory, if only for professional appearance.
But despite the constant anxiety shadowing the city in these fretful times, today was a special day indeed. And at least for the upper class and those born into nobility, they would be treated with some spectacular entertainment. King Milo had found a way to generate a large flow of revenue for his war cause, and today he would yet again exploit that special resource.
The guards on the wall could see the deep hollow dug directly into the desert floor nearly half a mile out from the city limits. The ground-floor arena had taken years to dig, but had ultimately proven to be a most profitable investment. Lords and nobles stood around its roped-off edge, gazing down at what promised to be yet another entertaining show. Whatever King Milo’s pet was, wherever it came from, it had quickly become a fan favorite among the rich.
*
“Are yo
u certain it can’t see us?” asked the soldier, lifting his golden mask to get a better look. The musty air in the dark stone hall was becoming a factor as well. Thick with dust and the lingering tangy scent of sweat, it was actually hard to breathe in here.
“What does it matter?” scoffed the second man, clearly annoyed by his companion’s irrational fear. “It’ll know we’re here soon enough. Come on, we have a job to do. King Milo doesn’t like to keep his guests waiting any longer than necessary.” The larger of the two soldiers began stalking towards the figure seated on the floor at the far end of the dark hall. Hesitantly, the other man followed while pushing along a two-wheel cart.
The seated figure’s entire upper body was strapped tight with dingy wrappings, making it look like a mummy. Even its face was wrapped while leaving a small dark slit near the mouth. Its ears and eyes were covered with thin sheets of metal. Small chains hung from the center of each plate. Assuming those apparatuses worked like they were supposed to, it appeared the creature probably couldn’t hear or see anything. Three thicker chains wrapped its torso, each connected to iron pegs hammered into the wall. Still as death, it remained motionless as they approached.
“Still want to know if it can hear us?” the big man asked, snapping his fingers all around the creature’s head.
“Stop that!” the other warned, wheeling his cart around to the creature’s back. “Let’s just load it up and go.” Even deep inside this tunnel, they could still hear chanting from outside. “You hear that? They’re getting impatient.”
“You worry too much,” said the big man, moving dangerously close to the bound creature’s face. He waved his fingers back and forth, trying to elicit any sort of response.
“I told you to stop that!” the other replied, high-pitched panic seeping into his voice. “Now give me a hand, all right?” As he worked from the back, the chains began falling away from the wall with each click of his key.