by JD Franx
The sun slipped behind the mountain and he could see few people moving among the half dozen larger sailing ships. The dock area and beach appeared to be deserted, as did the three smaller ships tied directly to the salt-stained quays. Turning to head back to the others, he glanced back up the mountain. The flicker of numerous torch-lights descended the trails far up the on the ridge line. The Orotaq were still looking for them. Not knowing what to do, he hesitated for a minute. Staring in disbelief, he cursed his rotten luck as two Orotaq warriors walked out of the trees on the far side of the valley, two hundred feet from where he was crouched.
Returning for the others with the hopes that they could help wasn’t an option. The fury of a cornered animal stormed his body. He stood and walked down the small hill into the valley. Pulling the hood of his cloak onto his head, he faced the mountain and the two Orotaq warriors down at the valley’s far end. Kael drew his Vai’Karth, reversing his grip on the left-hand weapon in the hopes the heavier blade would protect his side and accommodate for the superior strength of the massive Orotaq warriors, just as he discussed with Kalmar earlier.
The mountain breeze tugged at his cloak and snapped the long lengths of soft leather on the back of his hood that were designed to be used for a mask. Drawing several deep breaths, he looked to the sky.
“I know you likely can’t hear me, Lord, but if you have any pull here, watch over me, please.” A desire to remain free filled him with strength and his fingers began to itch. Kael watched in amazement as all four of his weapon’s scythe-like blades shimmered with an incandescent energy. The black blades glistened, and the wisps inside blazed along the edges with bright magic, turning the metal a shiny silver. Cryptic characters in a language he didn’t understand flared along the flats, appearing as if etched along the entire length of all four blades. Raw, wild energy passed through the handles into his hands and coursed through Kael’s body. All the pain and hunger from months of abuse melted away once again. In their place, strength and vitality like he never felt flooded him. Kael’s mouth curled into a rare smile and he charged the two Orotaq warriors coming at him from across the small valley.
Kael covered the distance in what seemed like only seconds. Dashing between them, he lashed out with both wicked blades. A savage vibration rocked both wrists as the Orotaq blocked his attacks. Spinning to the right with speed he never had before, an Orotaq sword passed harmlessly by him. The massive fighter was almost as quick. Used to fighting as a team, the second Orotaq’s black battleaxe rushed down at Kael’s head. He dove out of the way as it crashed to the earth in an explosion of sparks and dirt.
Coming out of his dive, Kael spotted the axe stuck fast in the packed soil. He lunged forward, driving the right reaper-blade up through the muscled blue flesh of the warrior’s left side. The curved blade slid through the solid body with ease, bursting from the Orotaq’s back. With a vicious pull, the creature yanked the blade from his own side and hammered Kael from his feet with a monstrous backhand before falling, mortally wounded.
Kael spun through the air a dozen feet, crashing to the ground in a heap. The Vai’Karth pulsed with wasted power as they twirled off into the tall grass far from reach.
Dazed and unable to breathe, Kael clawed in the dirt for his weapons, for anything that would help. A deep, throaty laugh echoed from behind him as a huge leather boot stomped on his back, forcing his body into the ground. He felt his ribcage flex under the immense pressure, but nothing broke. The warrior pushed harder and drawing breath became difficult as Kael struggled to free himself.
Fighting his way to his hands and knees, the pressure on his back eased. Kael glanced over his shoulder just in time to meet another heavy boot with his face. The force of the kick shattered his nose and sent him rolling through the grass until he came to a stop, staring up at the clear blue sky and the passing phantoms of white cloud. Dizzy and delirious, Kael smiled at the sky.
Seconds passed before his focus returned, blessing him with the sight of a five-hundred-pound Orotaq warrior staring down at him.
“Stupid Human,” he bellowed. “You killed my battle-brother. I will not honour the order to return you alive,” he growled. With a snarl, a massive forged obsidian greatsword rose above his head with the full intention of chopping Kael in half.
With a frenzy born of utter fear and desperation, Kael again clawed the earth for a weapon. Finding nothing, he grasped for his magic, but unable to concentrate, there was no magic to grab. Raising his hands, he closed his eyes and waited for death. A grunt and gasp of surprise forced his eyes open just as the heavy sword-handle dropped to the grass beside him. He looked up to see the giant man waver before dropping to his knees with two blade points protruding from his scarred and branded chest. Both sword tips withdrew back inside and blood pumped out in its place as Galen rammed both of his stolen daggers into the warrior’s ears. With a familiar twist, he tore the daggers back out and the Orotaq warrior dropped to the grass, dead, alongside his brother.
“…Galen…” Kael managed to choke.
“Come on, buddy,” the wizard said, lifting Kael from the grass. “Let’s get you back to the cove so we can clean you up. I told you I’d always have your back, didn’t I? Just didn’t realize it was going to be a full time job when I offered,” Galen joked, laughing. Dizzy and nauseous, Kael just nodded.
With no further signs of pursuit, Galen cast a ghost-track spell, hiding all signs of their presence. Taking the majority of Kael’s weight on his shoulders, he headed back to the beach where he’d left Kalmar watching over Kyah, dragging Kael most of the way.
Chapter Forty-Six
Even pushing as fast as we can, we have yet to lay eyes on the princess or her companion. Even with the benefits of Yrlissa’s healing, my recovery has slowed our pursuit. Though he’s yet to say anything, I can see the looks I get from Giddeon every time I need to rest or when Yrlissa loses the trail because the prints are too old. So far she has been able to locate tracks that the rest of us can’t even see and as we approach what Giddeon calls the Northern Peace Border, the mood among Giddeon, his daughter, and Kasik grows dark. Regardless of my feelings towards them, I understand. Their king has given them orders that will ultimately lead to war. A heavy burden even for the most loyal person.
EXCERPT FROM EMBER TOLLEN-SYMES JOURNAL
LAST WEEKS OF END-WINTER, 5025 PC
YUSAT
WILDLAND’S NORTHERN
PEACE BORDER
Giddeon and Ember’s group followed the trail left by the princess for twenty-five days. It had taken more effort and longer hours to follow the trail the further south they went. Yrlissa was constantly backtracking and widening her search to be sure they had followed the correct trail. The last week had been the slowest, as the tracks from Princess Corleya’s horses faded to almost nothing. The morning of the twenty-fifth day had them staring at the barely-recognizable tracks on the Yusat side of the Wildlands’ Northern Peace Border, the real border.
Finally back on her feet, though still quite weak, Ember stood with Max as they looked into the fabled forest of the Wildlands. Yrlissa was the first to break the ominous silence.
“I have no doubts, Giddeon, the princess and her lady entered the Wildlands. The Blood Kingdoms ceded all territory up to the forest three line,” she said, pointing. Crouching, she stared at the dirt and grass at her feet. “By the look of the tracks, I would guess they are more than three days ahead now. The horseshoe prints and signs of their passing are very faint. If no rain comes, I can follow for a day more, maybe two or three once inside the forest where the signs will be heavier. Broken branches means dripping sap, and flattened plants don’t fade—they grow crooked,” she explained, looking over her shoulder at Max.
Saleece stared at the forest ahead, her eyebrows and nose wrinkled with disgust. “You know what this means, Father. The Taktala rule the northern tip of the forest. They should already be moving south to notify the Kordanu of the violation in the treaty. There will be war
before the middle of Summer’s Dawn. At the very latest by the Days of Light, six and a half months from now.”
Giddeon cursed, shaking with anger. “Damn her royal fucking hide straight to Perdition. What was the foolish girl thinking?” Everyone gawked at Giddeon’s use of foul language. Something he never did, it showed the extreme stress and gravity of the situation. “Twenty-five years those atrocious savages have been quiet. The extra land we gave them, the lost lives, everything we suffered in that war, all of it will be for nothing now because of that stupid, spoiled little brat,” he spit. It was more than apparent how worried Giddeon was of sparking a fourth Wildlands War, two of which he’d already fought.
Kasik put his hand on Giddeon’s shoulder in an attempt to calm his friend. “We have more important matters to attend to. The princess will likely have been killed days ago. Kael cannot be allowed to run roughshod while we chase a dead princess. We’re not flying an emissary banner either. Entering here will guarantee another war. You must decide, Giddeon. What do we do?”
“The Wildlands tribes’ core society is built upon slavery. She won’t be dead. They’ll both have been sold,” Giddeon corrected. “It matters little, anyway. We can’t disobey the king’s order. We must follow until we find her. Ember, have you discovered any way to control your realm-jumps or your dream spells?”
“No, I haven’t,” she admitted. With Max’s help she sat down in the grass to rest. “The very though of casting that spell...” She gagged, putting her hand to her mouth for several seconds. “It makes my stomach turn. I still have no idea how I got us back to Corynth and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do it, or want to, again.”
Yrlissa knelt in the tall grass, checking on her friend. “You will, mai-nahlla, but it will take time. Your body is telling you that if you were to use your power again, even Max’s clever ideas wouldn’t save you. You feel terrible because your body is warning you not to use magic. Listen to it. We’ll get by without it. Will we not, Giddeon?” Her last statement was a clear warning that he needed to stop pushing Ember about the abilities she had only just discovered. It was becoming a touchy subject between the two.
“Very well. We’ve no choice, though. We must enter the Wildlands and hope we don’t have a war to deal with later.” Giddeon shook his head as he walked back to his horse.
“We survived the last one. We’ll live through this one too,” Kasik said after him.
“Surviving another war isn’t what worries me, Kasik. It’s what they do on the battlefield. The idea of a third war against those ruthless bastards makes my stomach turn, and it makes my head hurt, and the Bana-Loca will likely become involved now. The last time Chief Karlag Kordanu signed the treaty he made it clear, any violation and he’d rally the Bana-Loca for war. Dammit,” he complained, climbing into the saddle. Kasik shrugged as he headed for his own horse. Bred for battle as he was, few things about war bothered the Northman.
“Bana-what?” Max asked, climbing his own mount.
“Bana-Loca,” Giddeon answered, frowning. “The Tribal outcasts. The tribes’ priestesses use a strange kind of earth or nature magic. Very mild compared to ours, it’s why they call us northern wizards, defilers. They say when we cast magic we defile the spirits. The Bana-Loca are magical outcasts from all the Wildlands tribes, they use an incredibly powerful, but perverted form of bonded magic.”
“The Loca fought in the First Wildlands War didn’t they father?” Saleece asked.
“Yes, I heard some of the nightmare stories from my mentor, Calladia. I didn’t fight in the first war, I was too busy trying to avert war between Ellorya and DormaSai. Four years the Inari and I were in either Avelera City or Drae’Kahn trying to negotiate peace, missed the entire war. Thankfully.”
Ember shivered. “That’s frighteningly creepy, even as a retelling. Can’t imagine being there.”
“I concur, my dear,” Giddeon said, nodding. “Calladia suffered from chilling nightmares after the war ended and she travelled to Ellorya to help with the peace talks. Many things she saw were never retold. Similar to what Kasik and I witnessed last time.”
The Northman and the Cethosian ArchWizard stared at each other. Both knew all about war with the fierce tribes from the Wildlands and their unorthodox battlefield tactics.
However, only Giddeon had the nightmares, still, twenty-five years later.
FLATWATER BAY
TAZAMMOR PENINSULA
Still weak from months of torture, it took Galen an hour to get Kael back to the beach cove to join the others. Even though he was exhausted by the time they arrived at the cove, he healed Kael with the same spell he used earlier on Kyah. Again, the results were well beyond his capabilities and Kael’s nose popped back into place, straight, but with some cursing, and the deep cut across the top healed with a small scar. Wiped magically and physically, Galen lay in the sand to rest. Feeling better, Kael checked on Kyah to find she had acquired a fever during his absence. After talking with Kalmar and Galen, they decided to wait until midnight before trying to steal one of the ships from the harbour beyond the valley. Satisfied with the plan, Kael curled up in the sand beside Kyah and drifted off.
As midnight approached, Kalmar woke Galen, Kael, and Kyah. They gathered their few belongings and prepared themselves for the short walk to the bay. It was then that it dawned on Kael that he had no idea how long the night would last. The Forsaken lands had no real day or night, and before being captured, he had spent only two nights outside of the dark, gloomy lands in Cethos’ north. Both of those were in the shadow of a mountain range or inside the Northern Pass. Nearly five months had passed since the day he was torn from his comfortable life on Earth and still Kael had no idea about so many things.
With a quick look at both Kalmar and Galen, he asked, “Do either of you know how much night is left or how long the darkness will last?” Galen closed his eyes for a few seconds before answering.
“There are several hours left yet, seven or so. The Dawn is still a couple weeks away yet, so the nights still last close to twelve hours as opposed to six or seven during summer.”
Confused by his response, Kael asked, “You lost me, I thought you said dawn was in seven hours?”
“It is. Oh, I’m sorry, Kael. I forget that even after all this time there is so much you don’t know. The sun will rise for the new day in about seven hours, but Dawn, what we call the start of summer, Summer’s Dawn, is a few weeks away yet. The year-long winter is almost over. The first six months of the new season are known as Summer’s Dawn, or the Dawn, for short.” Shaking his head, Kael picked up his travel packs and slung them over his shoulder.
“More useless knowledge to learn. Nothing is ever easy in this gods-forsaken place is it?” he mumbled, as he walked away. A look of pity flashed across Galen’s face, but it quickly passed as he looked at the others. They were all aware that the hardest part was yet to come.
Waiting until Kael was out of earshot Galen added, “It’s clear Kael missed the Darkwinter at the heart of the cold season, but the mid-summer’s month-long Days of Light, is sometimes worse. He needs to know these things.”
“Twenty-four hours of sun and no dark have a tendency to play with people’s minds,” Kalmar agreed, “but he doesn’t need to be burdened with these things today, Galen. They will only add to his exasperation.”
Nodding her agreement, Kyah offered a solution. “The hottest time of the year-long summer is a tough time for most people. It will also upset him further. This is a strange place for him. I will tell him the things he needs to know, but not now. For now, he has earned some peace and understanding from us all. Fair?” she said, panting from exertion just from speaking as the fever raged in her body. The two wizards bowed their acceptance and then helped her as they hurried to catch up with Kael.
They passed through the valley as quickly as they could. The search torches up on the mountain danced along the high trails, brighter and more numerous than when Kael and Galen had been there earlier.
The Orotaq bodies had yet to be found by others. Creeping through the tall grass, they stayed closer to the beach this time and climbed the rise into the harbour’s bay without being noticed. Focusing his exhausted mind on his esoteric sight, Kael couldn’t sense anyone on the docks and the only people nearby were on the farthest two ships anchored across the bay.
“I don’t sense anyone close. Kalmar? Galen? Do you?” Both shook their heads as Kael nudged Galen. “I’ll go check and make sure the coast is clear, then you and Kalmar help Kyah when I wave you up.” His poor choice of words gave rise for concern from Kalmar.
“I can tell you just by looking out past the harbour that the coast is clear, Kael. We shouldn’t encounter any ships out along the coast while we flee.” As he looked at Kalmar, Kael could only shake his head and smother a laugh.
“Forget what I said, both of you. Just come when I wave,” he said, and left for the docks, shaking his head at the misunderstanding. It was the first time a serious difference in their languages could have caused a real problem. He tried to keep in mind that his slang might very well mean something completely different, or as in this instance, mean something quite literal, to the people of this world.
The old wizard called him back before he got two feet away. “Be careful, Kael. You won’t sense anyone if they’re using those talismans.” Kael nodded and took off for the dock.
Once there, he did his best to ensure no one was around and once he was positive, he made his move. With as little noise as he could, Kael pulled himself up from the tall grass onto the dock, but even so, a dried-out plank creaked under his weight when he stood. Crouching back down, he checked to see if he’d been heard. When it appeared as though no one heard him, he continued on towards the closest ship, trying harder to be quiet. As he approached the first boat he hoped the four of them would be able to take, Kael felt his foot press down on a plank that flexed several inches. He held his breath and closed his eyes, waiting for the shrill creak or loud groan that would give him away. When it never came, he looked down, surprised to see both of his feet shrouded in swirling black mist.