by JD Franx
“All we can do now is wait and hope we acted in time,” Giddeon said. “Delaying our departure in the morning would be a sign of something wrong. Kasik, you and Max arrange for a supply cart with extra-high walls, build a stowaway section under the main floor...”
“Like we did with Queen Bale after the princess was attacked by Azmerack, good thinking. If she remains in the city and the guild finds out we helped, the royal family will be at risk,” Kasik added.
Max smiled, shaking his head. “Which would be bad. The cart will allow us to smuggle the assassin out of the city. The guards have been informed of her death and sent away; the King will be told likewise. You guys have entirely too much experience with crap like this.”
“Never a dull moment some months,” Kasik said, grabbing Max’s shoulder and guiding him from the room.
Giddeon left to notify the cook about cancelling the supper they had planned, instead asking that trays of food and drink be brought to their rooms. The cook, a life-long friend, was the only person outside the immediate group Giddeon trusted with the real secret of the assassin’s fate.
Ember refused to leave the girl’s bedside, tending to her until late evening, when she finally came to. Panic overwhelmed the young assassin the moment her eyes opened, but she could hardly move. Though they found no life-threatening internal injuries, there was little Giddeon could do to hasten her recovery from the poison.
“It’s okay,” Ember soothed, offering a glass of water from the nightstand. “You’re safe, I promise. We managed to counter the poison, and your broken bones have been splinted so they can mend. But it’s going to take time to get back on your feet. Understand?”
After a couple of small sips, the Elvehn woman spoke. “Thank you for your help.” Her yellow eyes shifted to the doorway. “For yours as well, ArchWizard.”
No sooner had Giddeon, who had come at the first sound of talking, met the assassin’s gaze than a twenty-year-old memory of the Cataclysm crashed to the front of his mind. His legs nearly buckled beneath him as he remembered the yellow-eyed woman who killed Jasala Vyshaan, the high mountain pass overlooking the quaking battlefield in the shadow of the DeathWizard’s dark tower and the woman who had seen him as if he were really there. Both women with yellow eyes identical to the young assassin in front of him, who could only be a direct descendant.
Recovering some composure, he nodded his greeting.
“I found you in the moat. My name is Ember,” the healer-in-training offered.
“Ember,” her patient echoed. “That is a name I have not heard in a long while. Tell me, Ember, do you spend a lot of time in the city’s waterways?”
Ember smiled, though clearly troubled by the woman’s cryptic remark. “Not by choice, believe me.”
“I am Yrlissa. I thank you for your kindness, though it will likely be in vain.”
Ember caught the meaning and offered what assurance she could. “We have a pretty good idea what you are, and for now, we really don’t care. Well, I don’t anyway. Nobody else knows you’re alive. We’re doing everything we can to keep it that way. We’re leaving the city in the morning, and are making preparations for you to come with us, if you like. You’ll be safe while you recover. I promise.”
“I suppose that will leave me indebted to you,” Yrlissa snapped, blatantly unimpressed with the idea.
“You’ll owe us nothing. We could use your help where we’re going, I won’t deny that, but we don’t expect it. Once you’re better, you can leave if you want.”
Saleece arrived, stepping into the room at Giddeon’s side, but Yrlissa eyed both with distrust. “Come closer,” she said, eyeing Ember. She leaned over within a few inches of the assassin’s parched lips. “Perhaps you mean what you say, but trust me when I tell you that I know betrayal better than you could ever imagine, and if those two wizards need me, I will not be allowed to just go. Not alive, anyway. You look like a smart girl. Whatever ties you to them, be careful. Betrayal comes from behind, and always when you least expect it. Don’t learn that too late.”
IPEA
NORTHERN COAST OF YUSAT
The bitter cold of dawn bit at Gabriel’s bones. On days like this, he felt every one of his more than four hundred years of age.
The seaside village of Ipea had no knights, and only a handful of the King’s army were stationed at the outpost on its western outskirts. The attacks on smaller cities and towns all over Talohna had forced the King to double the guard to twenty. The town had formed a militia, comprised of fifty rotating members, after the first attacks almost twenty years ago. A month ago, the Eye sent Gabriel, his apprentice, Oloward Fletcher, fellow master wizard Kalmar Ibess, and their four adepts to augment the village’s defences after receiving reports of attacks and abductions in the Free Lands to the south and east. The free city of Dasal had been hit a second time, almost exactly twenty years after the first attack.
While the University of Magic, being responsible for all formal training of young mystics from the Blood and some of the Southern Kingdoms, had the final say over where and how many of the Eye’s resources were sent in times of trouble, the recommendations of the Wizards’ Council weighed heavily in its decisions. Gabriel believed the dispatch of his small but powerful group was an excessive show of force for a village of only a thousand people. All four of his adepts would take their master exams in less than a year, and all, no doubt, would pass with ease. In the event of another attack, the magic they could unleash on the enemy would be devastating. He hoped things remained quiet, as they had for the past month.
As midday approached, something niggled at the edges of his consciousness. An hour after lunch, he knew for certain something was wrong. Kalmar Ibess had departed with one of the outer patrols that morning and they should have returned by now. Perhaps he had gone to eat before reporting back, but it wasn’t likely; he was generally conscientious in reporting his comings and goings. Gabriel, realizing he should have listened to his instincts earlier, left his office in the barracks and set out to find him.
Stepping out the door, he noticed two unfamiliar ships, both big, triple-masted galleons anchored in the bay. Even at a distance, Gabriel recognized right away that they weren’t Northman ships or the usual merchant transports that were due in days from now. The attackers had returned. Already he could hear their bloodthirsty cries as they stormed the beach. As he approached, he could see the invaders outnumbered the soldiers and militia almost three-to-one.
Quickly mastering his initial alarm, Gabriel drew on his bond to the earth for a spell that would, with any luck, drastically reduce the enemy’s number before they reached the town limits.
“Klofna, Kveysa Drepa, Leysa Svell,” he barked, outstretching his hands. Bright blue lightning leapt from his fingertips, combining and building into a swath of energy over twenty feet wide as it raced toward its targets. For good measure, the last two words created spinning blades of charged light designed to slice and burn through armour. One of the few master wizards able to cast the spell, Gabriel couldn’t help but smirk as the warriors dashed, en masse, right into the blast.
His smile quickly evaporated as he stared, dumbfounded, as his magic veered to either side of the approaching enemy, sizzling impotently into the sand dunes. He attempted the spell again, but hadn’t gotten out the first word before pain tore through his body, driving him to his knees. No matter how he tried, his magic—even so much as a simple shield spell—was suddenly inaccessible to him, as though his cruus were blocked, or broken, or altogether gone.
He gingerly touched his throat, where the pain was most intense, only to discover a metal collar fastened to his neck. A closer inspection with both hands told him the collar was embedded deep in his flesh. Blood trickled down into his robe as he stared at his red-stained fingers. While he had been focused on his spell and the attackers racing up the beach, someone had crept up behind him and clasped the device to his neck, his esoteric sight failing him completely. The agony forcing him to his k
nees was from four metal spikes attached to the inside of the collar, two buried in front of his neck and two behind. The spikes bit deep, setting the nerves throughout his body on fire.
Through a haze of agony, he watched as a tall figure in a long, black and red robe stepped in front of him and gestured to two warriors clad in black armour, who pulled Gabriel to his feet. The figure studied him with eyes unlike anything he had ever seen: black as the heart of night, with red slitted pupils and star-burst irises of throbbing purple. They were all that was visible of the creature within its deep cowl and dark mask.
It spoke with a voice of absolute authority. “As long as you wear the Gyhhura, your primitive magic will be unavailable to you.”
“How?” Gabriel choked. “We cannot live without our bond.”
“So much power, yet so little understanding,” the hooded creature mused, without emotion. “You Humans are like stupid animals playing with fire. Worry not, wizard. You will not die here. The collar will ensure that you live, however painfully.” Turning to the warriors on the beach, it shouted, “Load the ones we came for.”
When the figure whirled round to head for the boats, its robe parted for a fraction of a second, allowing the master wizard a glimpse of long, snake-like appendages hanging from the creature’s head under the hood before the fabric fell back into place.
Gabriel’s adepts had been collared without a fight, and he watched with a heavy heart as they were dragged to the boats. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, magic had no effect on the warriors. Though the hooded creature was clearly not Human or any other known race, the fighters in the lighter armour were Human, with a small amount of Elvehn mixed in. They carried no distinguishing marks. Like ghosts in the fog, they swept in almost unseen and unfelt, taking what they wanted. They were going to vanish just as quickly. Exactly like the last time.
Gabriel hadn’t known about the collars, though. His neck throbbing, his magic gone, and collared like an animal, he was suddenly very afraid.
Chapter Eighteen
Records will continue to be collected from any and all willing to record our history as they experience it. With so much lost to the Cataclysm, we hope that one day recorded journals and diaries will be kept by one and all. From the mightiest kings to the simplest street beggars, we must ensure such grievous losses never occur again. The mistakes of our past will be the stepping stones to the future.
ARCHWIZARD AGRAVAR DESOLLA
447 PC.
BLACK ARC, FORSAKEN LANDS
Kael woke a few of hours before his scheduled meet with Lycori. With nothing to do and the lights from the night before still burning bright, he sat cross-legged on Jasala’s big four poster bed and opened her grimoire. To his surprise, he discovered that he was able to read some of what it contained, even though he didn’t recognize the languages at first glance. Within a few seconds of staring at the strange symbols, it became clear that by focusing his mind, he could read some of what was written. He turned the first page and read.
535TH YR. OF THE RI’TEK (YRI),
PHAELORNA TAMLYRANTH,
KEEPER OF THE DYRRENAI AVALATH
I apologize and weep even as I write anew. It is now the 535th year of the Ri’Tek Invasion. Our Avalath Book was destroyed during the attack last moon. Things have quieted enough for us to begin keeping records once again. Our Avalath collection carried three thousand years of Dyrrenai history, all of it now gone. I will write this new record until I must pass it down. My name is Phaelorna Tamlyranth and I am a Keeper of the Avalath, the records of our past. This record is the account of my people, the Elvehn of the Dyrrenai Forest.
The Ri’Tek have systematically exterminating the lesser races for over five hundred years now. After an era of peace and prosperity, they turned on the Elvehn, Dwarves, Fae, Humans, and even the Dragons and their kin. Our ancestor’s discovery of our own magic incensed the Ri’Tek, and within a millennium their patience ran out and they attacked. The first targeted were the Dragons, the strongest users of magic. They held out for close to five hundred years. We do not know if any are alive now. The Dwarves fell next, and no word has come to the surface in almost fifty years. All the Elvehn dearly pray that our brothers and sisters of the deep earth are well and only hiding, but we have prayed for an envoy for many years. Hope for them dwindles as swiftly as time passes.
542ND YR. OF THE RI’TEK
PHAELORNA TAMLYRANTH,
KEEPER OF THE DYRRENAI AVALATH.
The lands continue to suffer under the Ri’Tek aggression. It is a war we cannot hope to win. Three moons past, the remaining dragons and their kin found our sanctuary. It was a grateful and very welcomed surprise. Last moon, the last of the Dwarven clans did as well, though their numbers were horrifically small. The relief for our closest relatives and devoted allies was tremendous. The elders debate a desperate plan. All the lesser races are needed, so the envoys have been sent.
545TH YR. OF THE RI’TEK
DELINDYRAH TAMLYRANTH, DAUGHTER OF PHAELORNA,
KEEPER OF THE AVALATH.
Mother passed to the spirits two weeks ago from wounds she received during the heavy fighting at the out-lands of the Dyrrenai Forest. Responsibility of keeping our history recorded in the Avalath falls to me. The fighting that took Mother was vicious and accounts of numerous Vascuul were present. The battle was nearly lost because of them. Commander Blackmist led the enemy creatures away, allowing the rest to return with our wounded safely. Her selfless distraction allowed the Fae and their envoy to join us, undetected, here as well. Thankfully, she returned this morning, but was deathly ill from infected wounds. The Fae saved her life using their advanced powers of magical healing, we would have lost her otherwise. The elders of all races present have decided on a plan, but the ----- and hum-- races have not yet arrived. The Ri’Tek grow more aggressive, there is little time left.
546TH YR. OF THE RI’TEK
DELINDYRAH TAMTYRANTH,
KEEPER OF THE DYRRENAI AVALATH.
The Humans arrived under the cover of more heavy fighting. Keeping the Ri’Tek from knowing we are here in the Dyrrenai Forest is becoming extremely difficult. Our lands lie so close to their borders. The ritual is ready, but --- --------- ----- -- ----. Ancient Dragon, F--, Dw—f, -lf, and Hum-- ritual s—moning must wait, may --- gods help us.
549TH YR. OF THE RI’TEK
DELINDYRAH TAMTYRANTH,
KEEPER OF THE DYRRENAI AVALATH.
Ri’Tek continue aggressions against fighters and innocents alike. Watching our children die at the hands of these ------- is becoming too much to bear. Elders are becoming --sperate.
Kael frowned as he struggled to read the last two entries, time and water damage having affected the ink used so long ago. Determined, he read on.
549TH YR. OF THE RI’TEK
DELINDYRAH TAMTYRANTH,
KEEPER OF THE DYRRENAI AVALATH.
We must leave the Dyrrenai Forest. The Ri’Tek are too close. We have killed three scouts inside the borders of the enchanted forest in the last two days. If they find us here they could destroy the bulk of our army, as well as the forest itself. We must protect the enchanted trees at all cost; their secrets in relation to all magic must be kept hidden. We will leave our homes and their existence here in the Dyrannai Forest will be kept secret. I hope Father Arcathryl watches over them and protects them from the evil that seeks to destroy us all. The Wardens will remain as a last defence should the forest be discovered. Our prayers are with them all.
600TH YR. OF THE RI’TEK
ZOASTRIA VEVERELL,
KEEPER OF THE AVALATH, RED PLAINS ELVEHN.
Fighting has become even more fierce on all fronts of the war. The ancient Dragon Behemoths and the wizards of all races seem to hurt the Ri’Tek the most. Their weakness to the power of magic pushes all races to acquire more resources and stronger power. The Dragons and their savage Kin do the most damage but many of the monstrous Behemoths have fallen to the powerful Ri’Tek faithful, the Vascuul,
and the magic stolen from the other races. After six hundred years, we are losing hope that the Ri’Tek may ever be defeated, even with the rumours of several victories by our allies and cousins from the Dyr.
880TH YR. OF THE RI’TEK
ZOASTRIA VEVERELL,
KEEPER OF THE AVALATH, ELVEHN OF THE RED PLAINS.
The war is over and the Ri’Tek are gone, defeated. No one here knows how it was done. Our goal has been to sever Ri’Tek supply lines as they cross our Red Plains to the heart of the fighting deep in the south. We were not involved in the plan to destroy the Ri’Tek. Our gratitude and love goes to our brothers and sisters of the Dyrrenai Forest who were the masterminds of the final six battles, and to the DragonKin who lost the last of their ancient forefathers during one of those battles. May the mighty Vaigahr WhiteScale forever rest in peace.
Casualties over the last few years were severe. The Dwarves and Fae are no more. If the reports are to be believed, both races are now extinct. Though the might of the Dragons are gone, their Kin did survive. Few in number, the DragonKin will carry the Dragon blood forward. Between them and the enchanted forests, magic should remain strong in Talohna. The Elvehn and Human races will survive to carry on the Legacy of the Lesser races, hopefully in peace. Nearly nine hundred years of this blood-soaked war is long enough.
2ND YR. AFTER RI’TEK EXTINCTION (ARE)
MYONARIA VEVERELL, DAUGHTER OF ZOASTRIA, NEW KEEPER OF THE RED PLAINS ELVEHN AVALATH.
My mother passed peacefully in her bed one week ago. It has been many centuries since there was a peaceful death for one of the Lesser races. The remaining races have been working to rebuild and set up trade, but mostly to settle refugees and to find homes for the war’s orphans… So many orphans, both Human and Elvehn. The DragonKin left at the war’s end, returning to their homelands. We don’t expect to see them again, not for some time. They are the last of the pure magical races. There has been no sign of the Dwarves, but the biggest loss lies with the extinction of the Fae. Dimensional jumps and magical travel through Talohna cannot be done without them. Magical healing has already begun to suffer; soon healing broken bones and cuts will be the limit. The realm weeps for the loss of so many races. Our prayers go out to them all, wherever their souls may now be.