by JD Franx
Kael screamed, plunging through the dark abyss.
Chapter Six
Talohna’s most faithful archivists steadfastly believe that what history we have retained is based on real events. In time, however, reality tends to fade into legend and legend into the realm of myth. This can be said, too, of extinct races, such as the Fae who inhabited Talohna in ancient times and were renowned for their knowledge of inter-dimensional travel, including the dangers that such magic involved.
Many years ago, after the war with DormaSai, I was given the opportunity to spend some time in the Ageless Library of the Arcane in it’s capital city, Drae’Kahn. There I read the few remaining writings on the dangers of using dimensional gateways or bridges. Seldom did the Fae use their magic to breach a given dimension more than once; when they did, even they lost lives. Among the ancient manuscripts I found this admonition, which I translate directly from the Fae scrolls, thanks to the help of Library Scholars:
“All dimensions were created by the gods. To walk these dimensions is to use the power of the gods. When the power of the gods is used to breach a dimension, never use it to do the same a second time. The power of any god comes with a price, and the price is always life.”
The events that followed the Black Sun of 5005 PC are public knowledge. I had been a casual acquaintance to the Cethosian ArchWizard, Giddeon Zirakus, for many years before that day and have remained so for many since, even though the man constantly struggles to remember my name. The loss of his closest friend, Master Wizard Oripar Lightfoot, during their successful opening of a dimensional gateway is something for which Giddeon will never forgive himself. I passed the above excerpt along to him some time ago in hopes that it would give him some solace. If the Fae so rarely opened a second bridge to a given world, the chances of anyone else doing so are remote indeed. Who would willingly sacrifice the many lives required?
The DeathWizard banished by Giddeon and Oripar on that dark day will never return to Talohna. Oripar’s sacrifice afforded us that much, at least.
GARREN SALLUS, TALOHNA:
A TRAVELLER’S CODEX, VOL. 2
5018 PC
CASCADE WIZARD’S TOWER
5025 PC
Nearly twenty years passed since the day Giddeon Zirakus was forced to give up his only son. Not one day had gone by that he didn’t think about it.
Aravae, though she had partially understood, could not, however hard she tried, forgive what he had done. She stayed almost three years, making sure Saleece still had the mother she had always known. But when their adopted daughter turned seventeen, Aravae packed her belongings and left, going into commune to grieve the loss of their son. The Elvehn ritual of mourning would last many years, and though she had returned a couple of times to see Saleece, sixteen years passed with no sign of her. Giddeon didn’t know if she would ever return, but he held out hope all the same. She was the only woman he’d ever love.
For now, however, he and Saleece, a newly certified adept, would have to push aside memories of that day and clear their minds for the task ahead. Privately, he was bursting with pride at her passing the exams. At thirty-four years of age, she was the youngest to ever do so. Most apprentices studied for up to eight decades before the attempt. For all that, his daughter accepted the appointment without arrogance, making him all the prouder.
He cursed quietly at himself for getting distracted. All over the Blood Kingdoms, and especially in the Free Lands, the strangest attacks had been taking place. The city of Dasal and even as far north as Sorai had been attacked, leaving dead townspeople and abducted youngsters. Sorai was too close to the Blood Kingdoms. Representatives of the Elder Council, including the Cethosian King, Joran Bale, had tasked Giddeon, the realm’s only ArchWizard, with investigating the source of the attacks.
The first of the attacks had started months before the Black Sun, against the Northmen. To this day they kept Tyr’s Shield closed—becoming near isolationists, opening it only for proven allies. Giddeon and Saleece had been there eighteen years ago, after the two-year lock down of the monstrous sea-gate was lifted. What the Northmen told them was a confusing mess of superstitions and half-truths. Had Kasik not been with them, he didn’t think they would have gotten any answers. As it was, the only reliable information they received was that the attack had been quick and ended with the kidnapping of several young men and women.
Astonishingly, the Northmen’s legendary rune-folded weapons had little effect, claiming not a single enemy combatant. An art passed down for thousands of years, the folding of fire, ice, lightning, razor, and even silenced runes into their swords, axes, and maces made for Talohna’s most fearsome weapons. That such formidable weaponry and the Northman’s unparalleled skill in battle had proven useless against these new attackers was a disturbing revelation. Giddeon shook his head at the memory, trying once more to focus on preparing for the ritual ahead, and failing.
Though the attacks continued after the Black Sun phenomenon, they were rare, maybe one or two a year. Yet something had changed of late and the attackers escalated the frequency and savagery of their assaults over the past year. Two larger seaside villages were attacked in recent weeks, adding to the total of over thirty towns and cities in less than a year.
Ipea in Yusat had been home to two elder sorceresses. Giddeon had seen for himself the twin sisters’ mastery of magic when he’d visited Ipea years before, but if stories were to be believed, both had been taken with relative ease along with the large town’s youngest children. Two Master wizards were now stationed in Ipea, along with a reinforced army detachment and several lesser-ranked wizards, but Giddeon feared even they might not be able to help should a second attack happen.
The second location, the city of Dasal in the old Dwarven territory, was home to one of the most powerful Master Wizards alive. Seifer Locke was easily as gifted with magic as Giddeon, even more powerful in some ways. His family gift allowed him to increase the power of any spell significantly, even his own. Beholden to no king or country, Dasal fared better in the attack against them, losing only a few of their young before driving the invaders back to their boats anchored in the harbour. Situated in the Free Lands, Dasal refused assistance from Giddeon and the Wizards’ Council when they reported the problem. He knew the decision wasn’t Seifer’s alone and hoped his friend wouldn’t pay the price for the city’s choices.
As Saleece arrived at his ritual chamber, Giddeon finally managed to reign in his wandering mind, a common problem for powerful wizards. Smiling, he beckoned for her to sit down. In the early afternoon the day before, he noticed an incredible spike of suspect magic somewhere to the west of Corynth. The ArchWizard’s duties included monitoring and investigating abnormalities in the flow of magic, and the kind of power he sensed bothered him immensely. Only two kinds of magic behaved that way: blood sacrifice and interdimensional travel, both of which were against the law. The residual magic from the spell the day before should eventually lead them to the location where the forbidden magic originated. Giddeon had a sick feeling he knew what someone was up to, even though it was impossible for them to succeed.
“All right, Adept,” he said, smiling. “I know you’ve never done this before. It’s normally something a Master Wizard would help with, but you should be strong enough to handle it. Besides, I have no choice. With the Eye sending all ranks to help the more vulnerable cities and towns no one else is available right now. Ready?”
“Yes, Master.” Saleece bowed, doing a poor job of hiding her excited smile.
Giddeon waited for her to take a deep breath and settle herself, before he continued. “All right. I need you to concentrate on any quirks or abnormalities in the flow of magic that might be present. We will increase the spell’s power together and you’ll quickly feel the spell begin pulling power from you on its own. Let it. I’ll stop it from draining too much energy from us once it has what it needs.”
“I understand, Master,” she said, nodding eagerly. “I won’t let you do
wn.”
Pride swelled his breast. “Concentrate. Let your power flow slowly.”
Sitting face to face with their hands twined together, their minds melded together as one and began to roam high above Cethos and the rest of the Blood Kingdoms. Giddeon smiled to himself as he felt his daughter’s rush of emotion at the weightless feeling of flight. Out over the lands their consciousness floated freely, on the alert for anything out of the ordinary. They drifted for what seemed like hours over grasslands, forests, lakes, and mountains. Joined like this, Giddeon could feel the restrained ferocity of Saleece’s magic. He’d figured the spell would have fatigued her by now, but waves of power yet emanated from her being. Giddeon was stunned. Her magic nearly equalled his own, but it felt different or exotic, yet chaotic and restrained all at the same time.
He cut their connection with that part of the spell that was drawing on their magic and was curiously poking at her strange magic when a massive nova of energy burst within their minds. Giddeon knew immediately what he was seeing and feeling. It was impossible, yet absolutely unmistakable. The sick feeling from earlier exploded into panic as he realized the location of the forbidden magic: Deep within the southern Wayvir Mountains. The suspected site of the fabled DemonBone Valley and the cursed home of a coven of witches known as the Dead Sisters. More importantly, the place where someone just successfully opened a gateway to a dimensional bridge, and Giddeon knew exactly where that rift had opened on the far side.
Showing no surprise as Giddeon abruptly ended the drift-sight spell, Saleece frowned. “It’ll be Kael, won’t it?” she asked, worried. “They’re trying to bring him back.” As always, her intuition was dead-on.
“Almost certainly. We must hurry.” They had only minutes to cut their way through the witches’ bridge and divert his son’s course to the ArchWizard tower. Though they had never told another living soul, he and Saleece had prepared for just this situation. The effort would likely cost Giddeon his life when he cut through the dimensional tunnel, but even so, he didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t let a DeathWizard fall into league with the Dead Sisters. Only the darkest of evils came from the DemonBone Valley. Such an alliance would destroy Talohna.
“You know what to do,” he barked. “Once I tear into that rift, pull him through. I’ll only have the strength to do it once, Saleece. Get him here, and do not hesitate to put him down. The second they opened their gate, his power will have awakened with a vengeance.”
“I’ll get him here, Father. I promise.” Tears ran down her face as she kissed his cheek. “I love you.” She would do everything she could to save them both, he knew that, but the drift-sight spell had taken some of her power, possibly too much.
Giddeon’s spell sliced through the void as he hissed between clenched teeth. “Leysa Vegr.”
The tear in Talohna’s dimension exposed the witch’s bridge, opening a doorway inside his tower. The mixing magics roared, shaking the stone and mortar walls as bursts of multi-coloured lights flared and ebbed, spilling into the tower. Bright white and yellow sparks and bolts sizzled, popping around the rim of the magical doorway. Streaks of light blue electricity shot past the opening, stray arcs jumped free striking the walls and floors, melting everything they touched. The sheer force of the magic was staggering.
Drained of his power in an instant, Giddeon’s knees buckled, but Saleece grasped his shoulder, instantly restoring his physical strength as healing magic flooded his body. Using her outer sight, she searched the rift, realizing in seconds that her brother had already passed through the dimensional bridge. He was already beyond reach, and nearly out of the bridge’s far side. She sensed the raw essence of his power, and worse, the two innocent people he’d dragged into the rift with him.
Trembling with terror, a vision of a woman with flowing white hair and strange eyes flashed in Saleece’s mind. The sight was strangely familiar, like a distant memory, but from where or when she hadn’t an inkling. It spoke to her in words she could hear aloud: “Bloods’ blackest will dawn the light’s last.”
One of the two individuals being pulled to their death was part of the prophecy: “the light’s last.” The feeling was so strong, it screamed at her to save them. Though Giddeon would never forgive her, it was clear killing her brother wasn’t the answer. Instead of unleashing her power into the rift, killing him and the two he pulled in, Saleece reached out to the two poor souls, and with the last of her failing strength, sent a short blast of focused power into the rift.
“Hrinda Grimmr Rida,” she gasped, her magical energy gone as the spell severed her brother’s connection to his magic. “Skera! Toga Fjorir Lionar Fylgja, Lis Vegr Heim!” Her connection to the earth depleted, the words tore into her life force, leeching power for the spell to free the two people attached to her brother. With no magic and knocked off course, Saleece prayed her brother exited the bridge far away from whoever wanted him.
With an exhausted smile of triumph, Saleece watched as the two helpless people fell through Giddeon’s rift, crashing to the marble flooring of the tower, unconscious. The rent in the bridge snapped shut, the lights gone, and all the electrical discharge dying with it.
Though weak, Giddeon managed to turn and catch his daughter before he himself collapsed on the floor. He stared at her, amazed by her display of power.
“I, I’m... sorry, Father,” she murmured. “I missed... him.”
“It’s all right, it’s all...” he began. Seeing she was already unconscious, he turned his focus to the new arrivals who had burst from his rift. “What in the Nine Hells of Perdition is going on?” he muttered.
In the sprawling valley floor of the Wayvir Mountains, deep in the DemonBone Swamps, a dark sisterhood ranging in age from newborn to nearly six hundred years of age were on the verge of an apoplectic fit. Known only as the Dead Sisters, the failure of their second dimensional bridge sent the witches’ leading ternion into a rage. The three sisters, just one of the many ternions involved, had planned carefully for this moment, and now they had to figure out what had gone wrong for the second time in as many days.
Sacrificing twenty-four chaste young adults—twelve male and twelve female—and draining their blood in order to transcribe the blood-glyphs needed to open the gateway, the sisters had watched, helpless, as the first bridge sputtered out the day before, bringing back only stone and dirt along with a green and black checkered hat and a bottle of ‘Green Spot’ Irish Whiskey. This time the bridge was more stable, but their target was not delivered to them; he had landed somewhere else in Talohna.
For twenty years, the Dead Sisters had planned for their opportunity to bring a DeathWizard back where he belonged. Some had sacrificed while others died acquiring the materials needed to open a dimensional gate to a specific location. Retrieving the blood of a betrayed Guardian had cost the life of Sister Lazia Marha. A sister who, though disliked by her own ternion, was enormously powerful, having earned the favour of two different demons from Perdition—such was no easy task. It was a costly loss for the Dead Sisters. Being rewarded the gifts of demonic magic from the Lower Brethren took decades of worship, study, bloodshed, and even personal sacrifice.
The blood of the betrayed had cost them dearly, but was a small price for bringing their master home. It was their sole duty, to protect him, to worship him, to teach him, and to make sure all of his needs and desires were fulfilled. Now that he was back, all they had to do was find him, and find him they would. Even if it meant they had to destroy anyone or anything that stood in their way.
Chapter Seven
A great variety of creatures roam the different regions of Talohna, many of which few people will ever see. Some of the most dangerous of these beasts inhabit the Forsaken Lands in the northernmost part of the Blood Kingdoms’ mainland, where the residual magic left from Jasala Vyshaan’s reign of terror has mutated the wildlife, and where many of her own wretched creations continue to live to this very day.
The DeadZone Barrier was created by the most po
werful wizards to survive the war, and still stands as a measure of protection from the nightmare creatures that roam the torn and devastated land. The Elvehn Guard from Ta’Ceryss patrol the border every moment of every day, dealing with the odd abomination that may, at times, wander out of the mist. It is the last place even the most experienced wizard or warrior would want to find himself.
The final test of an ArchWizard is to venture into the Forsaken Lands and make sure nothing sinister has taken root within the foul domain—a test tried by few and failed by many.
GARREN SALLUS, TALOHNA: A TRAVELLER’S CODEX, VOL. 2
THE FORSAKEN LANDS
Kael regained consciousness slowly, soon wishing he hadn’t. An all-consuming pain in his neck and head kept him from opening his eyes. Every time he tried, bright colours and searing pain blinded him to the point where he was beginning to think he’d actually lost his sight. Crippled and blind. He shook his head at the thought.
Knowing it never helped anyway, he stopped feeling sorry for himself and forced his eyes open. The longer he managed to hold them open as tears streamed down his cheeks, the more the pain subsided. As his tear-clouded vision cleared, he realized he had absolutely no idea where he was.
He lay in the ruin of a domed enclosure about twenty feet across. The wall of large, rough-hewn stones rose to just over his head in most places and the higher-up edges were scorched, cracked, or missing altogether. The section of outer wall across from him had crumbled, now only a couple of feet high, leaving the room exposed to the elements. Leaves and windblown debris littered the floor. A dark doorway stood to his right with stairs leading down beyond it.
Kael had a sinking feeling that Sam’s Bay was a long ways away. Head throbbing as he rolled onto his side, he looked around for Ember and Max. Several panicked moments passed before the horror of what he’d witnessed inside the vortex came flooding back. He tried to recall every detail, but understood none of it—what the thing was that pulled him in; where the sizzling power in his hands had come from; whether he’d really seen his wife and best friend die or if it was some insane dream. Try as he might, he could think of no sane explanation for what happened.