“You really do think it’s Lyrax, don’t you?”
Kaia looked straight into his eyes with determination. “Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me?”
“No.” Jaric sighed deeply, with a shake of his head. “I just didn’t want to believe it could be true. After all we endured—to be faced with the horrible reality that he has once again, by all the mysteries, come back…”
“…it just means we were meant to protect again, just like my father and all the citizens had hoped for us.” Kaia looked to Ryris. “Remember when we talked of destiny? This is it. Destiny has awakened. You can’t explain it, but it can’t be ignored.”
“You’re right about that.” Jaric blew out a long, purposeful breath and stared down the young alchemist. “So, if we’re going to go to war, can we count on you? Do you have any battle skills?”
Ryris swallowed nervously. He wasn’t a soldier. Hell, he was hardly a wizard. But, he didn’t want to seem totally incompetent in front of the hardened warrior. Anxiously tapping his fingers together, he meekly responded, “I...I have magic.”
“Well that’ll definitely do! C’mon, show it off!”
Meeting Kaia’s encouraging gaze, Ryris decided to go for it. What was there to lose? Only his pride, he figured. But, with practice comes results—and better to practice in the safe company of friends rather than in the frenetic chaos of the battlefield. He cracked his knuckles, stood, and moved toward the open door. He took a deep breath and concentrated, feeling the tips of his fingers begin to heat up with a familiar tingle. Looking down to his hands, the flames flickering on his palms exploded with brightness, and he morphed them into the largest fireball he had ever produced. The heat on his face was immense as he manipulated the sphere of plasma in the air, levitating it above his hands. The sight of his creation brought a proud, albeit surprised, smile to his lips. He didn’t even mind the uncomfortable warmth emanating from his amulet. With a push of his hands and a hearty scream, he unleashed a fireball through the door, out into the hot, dusty desert air. It struck the far canyon wall, shattering the sandstone and sending rocky shrapnel showering down onto the sandy ground below. A flock of goats atop the canyon rim scattered.
Jaric stood and flew to Ryris’ side, clapping him on the back with gusto. “By the Goddess! You really are of his bloodline!”
Ryris stared at his hands in awe, thin wisps of smoke rising from his sooty fingertips. He couldn’t believe he had just created something so powerful. It felt really rewarding to have someone react so incredibly to the thing he had always been told to hide. To finally have someone acknowledge his powers in a positive light. Turning to face Jaric with a hopeful expression, he brushed his hands together to rid himself of the ash. Feeling the warrior embrace his shoulders, he couldn’t help but start to feel the camaraderie that he knew Kaia and Jaric shared. “You think it’ll do on the battlefield? I’ve never made one that big before.”
“Are you kidding?” Jaric ushered him back into the chamber out of the glaring sunlight and motioned to Kaia to join them near the entrance. When she moved into the small circle, Jaric extended his arm around her shoulder as well, Ryris mirroring his actions. “We’re a team now. With our strength and your magic, we’ll make sure we rid the world of evil again. Adding Ealsig will only strengthen our power further.”
The trio stood there for a long moment, thinking on what was to come. Ryris finally broke the silence. “Are you two scared?”
Kaia pulled back from the embrace, but left her hand on the alchemist’s shoulder reassuringly. “I wouldn’t be a good warrior if I wasn’t. Courage isn’t something that defines you as a soldier. This isn’t a war game. This is real life. There’s a possibility that we’ll perish, and we need to accept that before we ever get onto the battlefield.”
Hearing Kaia speak with such bravado in her voice, even when she talked about fear, eased Ryris’ apprehension somewhat. But he knew better than to think his courage was going to be bolstered just because of a pep talk. To think his life might end on some strange plain, surrounded by enemies that would do who-knows-what with him afterwards made him shudder. But he knew it had to be done, even if he didn’t want to admit he needed to be a part of it. It would take him a long time, maybe even never, to achieve the level of bravery that his companions possessed. He couldn’t help but try and hide the meekness in his voice as he responded. “I just hope I’m enough. You both have years of training, countless hours on actual battlefields. I’m…I’m just an alchemist. I might be a liability.”
“Maybe.” Kaia’s response was unexpected, but not untrue. “But, you’re integral to making sure we defeat Lyrax for good this time. You’ll get better as time goes on, you’ll see. Remember what I told you—if you concentrate and study efficiently, you can be as powerful, or even more so, than your predecessor.”
“She’s right. And besides, Kaia’s magic can only get us so far, and mine is nonexistent.”
“You mean?”
“Can’t even make a damn spark. Never could. Born without the gift.” He pointed to his sword, leaned up against the wall. “That’s why I have my crystal beauty over there. She’s saved my life more times than I’d care to admit.”
Kaia moved to sit once again at their makeshift camp. As her two companions took their seats, she continued the conversation. “One’s merit on the battlefield isn’t measured by prowess with a sword or the ability to set one’s enemy on fire in a timely manner. Everyone does what they can, they best they can do it. All help is welcomed. We need alchemists. We need weapon masters. We need people to cook meals, wrangle horses, and survey land. If you decide that you’d rather stay off the front lines, then so be it. Bravery isn’t measured by the amount of your enemy’s blood on your boots.”
Kaia’s words made Ryris feel much better. And knowing that his two warrior friends wouldn’t think any less of him if he made the decision to make potions instead of run combatants through with a sword, eased a lot of worry.
“I’ll tell you what would help us, though.” Jaric slowly eased himself to his feet, the fatigue of stasis still holding him tight. He looked to Ryris and pointed toward the bookcase. “Give me a hand.”
The two men shoved the shelving aside, exposing a small niche. Jaric retrieved a familiar-looking, albeit smaller package. He tossed it at Kaia. “I’m assuming you still have yours?”
“Of course. And once we awaken Ealsig and retrieve her shard, we’ll have made real headway.” She sighed. “You don’t, by any chance, know of the locations of the other pieces? Perhaps you overheard something, or were told information I wasn’t?”
“I wish. All they said was, ‘lie down in this crystal coffin and relax’.”
“Then we’ll just have to double down on our progress. Search out-of-the-way locations, dig deep with our reconnaissance. We can’t afford to let Roann or Lyrax, if that’s who is truly behind the surge we’ve all felt, get their hands on any of the pieces.”
“But they can’t use them without the hilt right? And not if there’s any shards missing?” Ryris nibbled on a piece of jerky, his stomach beginning to growl from lack of food. He offered his friends both a portion.
“In theory, no. But the fact is we just don’t know with absolute certainty. That’s why we can’t allow even one of the shards to fall into the wrong hands.”
Jaric belched loudly after consuming his serving of jerky, completely wrecking the serious mood Kaia had just set. “Well then, it’s settled. We leave in the morning. We head toward Ealsig’s location, and hopefully find some little glittering sword pieces on the way.”
Ryris tossed Kaia a hopeful glance. He wanted to believe they’d find what they were looking for, and defeat whatever was conspiring against them sooner than later.
Jaric reached for Ryris’ knapsack without permission and began to rifle through. “So, what else you got in here? I’m starving…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
…are as follows: All buildings razed. Spoi
ls confiscated and relegated to quartermaster. Necromantic paraphernalia destroyed. Twenty-seven dead, three in custody, including the aforementioned Lyrax, slated for execution after questioning.
--Scrap of Ashal army general’s field report, year unknown. Found in ruined royal library.
“…are you sure you weren’t followed?”
Roann scowled in the darkness of the volcanic cavern, offended by the remark. He fought the urge to bite back as Lyrax’ disembodied voice continued.
“…You are the emperor. Surely they would send a security detail with you…for your protection…”
“I’m not a child. I know what I’m doing.” He dropped the heavy satchel from his back, bottles clinking inside as it hit the pumice floor. “I’ve properly threatened and that’s all they need. No one would dare go against my orders.”
“…ahh, yes. The last one to do so…”
“…is long silenced. Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”
The chamber was silent for a long moment.
“…not yet…”
Again, the young emperor found the condescending tone of his master’s spectral voice offensive. He had done everything Lyrax had asked of him and more his entire life, but sometimes still felt like a child being watched by a parent—just waiting for him to make a mistake. He wasn’t an idiot—he was the leader of the most powerful nation in the world, and commanded the respect that went along with it. However, Roann decided not to press the issue any further. They had important matters to take care of, and he couldn’t waste time or energy being angry.
“I brought everything you asked for. I sent a page to retrieve the supplies from the old alchemist in town.” Roann opened the knapsack and began to remove containers and vials, setting them on a natural rocky shelf jutting out from the volcano’s wall.
“Aren’t you concerned it…raised suspicions? What could the emperor possibly want…with alchemical ingredients?”
Roann clenched his jaw and internally stewed at Lyrax’ tone. “I’ve developed a new hobby…”
“Well then…we can’t wait any longer. I have one last task before we begin…and a special gift …”
Roann’s interest was piqued. Approaching the font in the middle of the room, he peered into the blue flames. “A gift?”
“Change forms…”
Roann backed away from the pedestal and concentrated, channeling his energy. His body twisted and morphed, his clothing disappearing into nothingness. Blonde hair was replaced by horns, smooth skin consumed by darkness. Within moments, the handsome emperor had been replaced by a grotesquely beautiful beast, black scales shimmering over its muscular body. Roann stood tall and proud, clicking his sharp toenails on the stone floor.
“Kneel…”
Roann obeyed, maneuvering his large body into the required position. Seconds later, a hot crimson fog bubbled from the font and enveloped him, seeping under the scales on his back. He cringed at the sensation, the feeling of thousands of red-hot pins being jammed into his shoulder blades. Fighting the urge to wince and move away, he stayed strong, knowing that whatever Lyrax was bestowing upon him would be well worth the pain. After a long moment, he felt a new heaviness tugging on his neck muscles. He released a relieved breath as he stood and was greeted by two massive, leathery wings protruding from his back.
“Take flight…”
Roann instinctively flapped his new appendages and rose gracefully into the air. After a moment of flight corrections, he circled the chamber, flying higher with each pass. As he reached the top of the cavernous room, he hovered before diving with incredible speed, stopping himself mere inches from the floor. Landing with ease, he approached the font.
“I don’t know what to say…” His monstrous voice was low and menacing.
“Say nothing. Use your new ‘toys’ to…carry out your final task for the day...”
“Yes, Master.” Roann’s wings flapped languidly behind him, creating a soft breeze and giving him relief from the oppressive heat of the room.
“Go southwest. Cross the Blood River…and travel over the Fields of the Damned. There you will find…the remains of the necromancer’s coven. The buildings are gone…but a reinforced cellar remains. Inside is an object—a blade. It is essential for the ceremony...”
“Anything you require of me, I will dutifully accomplish.” Taking off once more, Roann barreled his way upwards, crashing through the thin cooled-lava ceiling that entombed the chamber. Shards of obsidian rained down onto the floor below, and sunlight filtered in through the dusty remains of the ceiling for the first time in centuries. They no longer had to hide.
~~~
The wind blew across Roann’s scaly skin as he glided through the wispy clouds above Ashal. Having flown from the volcano in the north, he skirted over the barren landscape below. Burned-out villages marred the surface beneath him. Thousands of skeletons littered the ground. Their abominable flesh rotted away centuries ago, leaving only bones weathered by the howling winds. Weapons rusted where they fell. When Lyrax had been defeated, the hordes of undead stopped in their tracks and crumpled—no longer under the control of their master.
The continent was wholly abandoned. Only trees had made their claim on the once-prosperous land, ruling over the earth as the branches danced on the wind. No flowering blossoms, no succulent fruits—just craggy trees, even their leaves dull and devoid of bright colors.
Floating over the once grand castle of the former king, Roann circled briefly as he took in the sights. Broken towers crumbled from the structure, caved-in roofs fell into the rooms they once enclosed. The marble walls were stained and moldy from years of abuse by the elements, the remaining windows were cracked, letting the rain in to ruin the interiors. The chapel stood at the far end of the complex, the hallway connecting it to the castle proper having long since collapsed. Impressively beautiful in its heyday, the citadel now sat abandoned—left to die on a forgotten continent that no longer welcomed the living. Roann swooped down, landing gracefully on the sloped roof of the former meeting hall.
The remnants of tapestries fluttered in the warm volcanic breeze, their vibrant colors faded over time. Chairs sat unoccupied, surrounding tables that would never again host extravagant state dinners. Jumping down onto the dusty ground, Roann walked the perimeter of the castle, his claws digging into the gravel paths. Shattered windows allowed a glimpse into the moldering halls, once ushering guests and royalty alike from one opulent room to the next. Gilded lanterns still hung on some of the walls, their metallic coatings flecking off as moisture attacked from all sides.
Coming up on the cathedral, Roann shoved his massive scaled frame against the heavy wooden door, forcing it open. A cloud of dust rose from the hinges, unused for centuries. The marble floors heaved up in places, the once-smooth surface no longer traversable without considerable difficulty. No matter to the emperor, however, as he flapped his new wings and floated over the rubble of wrecked pews and fallen chandeliers. Approaching the altar, he circled it, knocking over a lone candelabrum as he moved. Paying the fallen accoutrement no mind, he moved behind into the apse to take in the grandeur of the forgotten place of worship. Before turning to gaze upon the remnants of Ashal’s royal sanctuary, he made note of the statue of the goddess keeping watch behind the altar, a silver baptismal font clasped in her stone hands. Tipping to one side from years of being ignored, the material it was sculpted from still shone brightly, its pristine stonework seemingly untouched by the wrath of neglect. A pink stone shimmered within a carved tiara upon Oleana’s head, and he recognized it immediately. He now realized why Lyrax was insistent on performing his ritual in this place.
Roann laughed out loud, his monstrous voice echoing off the buttressed ceilings. He couldn’t wait for the ceremony to begin. Taking one last look around the place that would soon bear witness to a rebirth; he took to the air once more and ascended through a giant hole in the roof.
~~~
Nothing remained of the necromanc
er’s village. Centuries-worth of scraggly forest had reclaimed the land. If Roann hadn’t been airborne, he wouldn’t have seen the former spot at all. Only when he noticed a small clearing in the trees, a scorched foundation emerging from the undergrowth, did he realize he had found his destination. Swooping down to land, his wing caught on a gnarled branch, gouging the black leathery flesh. Tiny droplets of blood beaded on his wing, and he winced audibly, hot air puffing from his monstrous nostrils. Slamming his clawed feet down to the ground, he huffed in annoyance at his injury.
Now earth-bound, he was able to discern more remnants of the hamlet. A crumbling brick wall here, dilapidated forges there. The woods had all but obliterated the once powerful coven, but hadn’t stamped it out completely. Striding purposefully through the thicket, Roann used his massive legs to push aside piles of rocks and debris, searching for the fortified bunker Lyrax knew to be there. A charred skull popped beneath his monstrous feet, shards of bone scattering in all directions. Looking down, he found the rest of the skeletal body, arms and legs splayed wide in his or her death throes.
After a few moments of searching, he came upon a mass of thick bushes, growing out of what was once the foundation of a house. The wood long since rotted away, Roann could just barely make out the stained outlines of the building material left on the stone floor. Pushing the dried-out foliage away, he allowed himself a satisfied smirk as he uncovered a heavy iron trap door. He wondered how the king’s garrison could have missed it, for it was still padlocked and secure. They must have been too busy cleansing the hamlet to pay it any mind, or the building may well have been on fire, the soldiers unwilling to risk their lives to check for anything out of the ordinary.
Using one of his long claws to pry at the lock, he grumbled when it wouldn’t budge. Steadfast, he smashed his monstrous hand into the rusty metal with unimaginable force. His talons stuck in the trapdoor, and with a mighty tug, he tore the entire barrier from its hinges. Dusty, rank air billowed out from underneath the hatch, finally free of its confines after centuries. Peering inside, Roann was undeterred by the pitch-blackness of the cellar. He tossed the door aside and jumped down into the abyss, his beastly eyes adjusting almost instantly. The whole area glowed green in his field of vision, the ability to see in the dark one of the many wonderful attributes awarded by his horrible form.
The Alchemist: Dawn of Destiny Page 29