Rythe Awakes (The Rythe Trilogy)

by Craig Saunders

  “That makes no sense.”

  Quintal sighed. “One day it will.” She waited for him to explain but he just added, “But enough, I must go and talk with Roth. I hope we will emerge from these blasted woods soon.”

  “I should go and talk with j’ark. He seems sad.”

  Quintal looked surprised. “I don’t think that is the case. He is a strong man.”

  Tirielle tutted and said, “For someone of such obvious learning you aren’t too bright are you? Doubt makes all of us sad.”

  With that she went to the back of the line and walked beside j’ark. Quintal watched her go. Thinking, as always.

  j’ark looked up from his feet and at Tirielle with his glorious kind eyes and said, “My apologies, Tirielle, I am not in much of a mood for conversation at the moment.”

  “Deep in thought, eh? Perhaps some female company would raise your spirits?” She said with a cheeky glint.

  “You are right, Lady, just not today.”

  Tirielle resolved not to leave him to wallow. “Well, I’m not leaving, so you may as well tell me what the man with the helm is up to. I’ve been wondering ever since you rescued me – by the way, I believe I owe you my life.” She paused for a second, “Although I think Roth may have it first. Sorry, what about the man in the helm?”

  “Do ladies always struggle with so many thoughts in their heads?”

  “Have you never met a Lady before?” Tirielle prodded.

  “No – perhaps – I do not know. My life before is a mystery to me. As it is for all of us. We are called to service and lose all that came before. I have not met a woman since travelling to Sybremreyen.”

  “What is Sybremreyen?”

  “It is our home and our teacher. It is the womb into which we are born, the grave where we leave our former lives behind. It is the reason we are here.”

  “Well, what is it then?”

  “Our temple. We train for war and learn like children until we are ready for our time in the world.”

  “Do you come from Lianthre then? You do not have the look of a Lianthrian.”

  “No, I do not think so. Forgive me, I am not being coy, but I do not know where I come from – I come from Sybremreyen, as do we all. I will serve Sybremreyen until my death. Then another will take my place.”

  Tirielle glanced around her and saw the group up ahead, the distance between them growing. She didn’t mind – it was good to have this man to herself. “Tell me more.”

  He laughed. “You are inquisitive. That is a good thing.”

  “But you are not.”

  j’ark paused for a moment. “I understand what you mean, but it is not that. I am inquisitive about everything. But…my interest is tempered by the certain knowledge that I serve Sybremreyen and a purpose as great as Rythe herself. My past is no longer important – I do not worry overly about it. Should it have been that important I know that Sybremreyen would not have taken me from it.”

  “What about me?” Tirielle hoped for the right answer.

  He looked with sad longing into her shining dark eyes. “We must find the red wizard. He is the only one with the answers. That is my duty. I am sorry, Lady, but you are part of the duty also.”

  He looked into her eyes and saw nothing there. She had closed her soul to him immediately. Like she was used to warding off hurt. It saddened him more than the absence of love in his life ever would.

  “Then I am a creature of duty,” she said with a pout.

  “Forgive me, you are offended.” He took her arm gently in an attempt to draw her back.

  “No, no. I understand duty better than most.” Tirielle’s smile looked forced.

  “Perhaps we should change the subject?”

  “Very well.”

  Conversation flowed more easily after a time. The group ahead had opened still more distance. Tirielle and j’ark wandered behind, falling back until they could only see the occasional hint of cloth through the brush and trees. They spoke quietly, listening to the forest melody in the spaces between their words.

  “So, Briskle hums through his helm to keep the animals at bay. Creatures can listen to him, and Yuthran talks for him…but how does it work?”

  “It is like all our ‘powers’ – I guess you would describe them so – born of repetition. There is not always but often one among us who has no power of speech. The one is given Sorin’s Helm. The helm, as all our armour remembers each bearer. It grants them the power to speak where others cannot.”

  “What is your special power then?”

  j’ark laughed lightly. The woman before him was perceptive, a pleasant companion for the journey ahead. “I have no ‘special’ powers, nor do the rest of us…apart from the Third. We merely have knowledge and practice on our side.”

  “The Watcher, the three – I understand you all think I am a creature of fate – but what does all that mean?”

  “I’m sorry, it is not for me to say.”

  Tirielle tried to hold her annoyance in check. “Nobody seems to want to tell me what is going on.”

  “I am sorry, Tirielle, but this is not for me to tell. You have been told all that we know.”

  “Grrnn. Nnn.”

  j’ark laughed again. He looked at the woman before him, just a girl really, and estimated her age at around thirty. She was still smooth skinned and shined inside with a fantastic light he saw in the other members of his order. He could not see it in himself. The chaste light from above gave soft luscious shadows on her face a mischievous tone, her lips parted showing her ivory teeth and the flecks of pure white there. The jagged tooth at the top was sheered across. He took in the muscle in her neck curving like a vine down to the hollow in her throat, the smoothness of her skin and his breath caught.

  He found he did not want to move. Something…peaceful…about being with her. His feet stopped moving. There was a softness to the forest, a gentle sussuration…the sound of the insects, maybe, the…

  The moment was broken.

  Roth ran at them, shouting, “Run!”

  Briskle rode thumping behind the rahken, shielded behind a wall of sound originating somewhere behind his eyes, the hum shaken out and woven into a thin, unbreakable barrier.

  j’ark had a moment to admire the speed with which Roth travelled. He watched in awe for a second, then Roth was past them. More urgently, quietly this time, it said, “Run…”

  Briskle stood tall in the saddle. The humming grew.

  “Follow the others out, they are just ahead and my home is not far now,” Roth called over its shoulder. Briskle nodded to j’ark and geed his horse in front, facing the dull cracking sounds that the two could hear coming from behind them, where they had already walked. j’ark could hear Roth crashing through undergrowth, then come to a stop, behind them. Sounds like symbols, joining the singing (who was singing? Who could be singing in a place such as this?).

  j’ark and Tirielle dumbly watched Briskle. He sat tall and proud in the saddle, a glorious tune coming from his helm. Tirielle imagined if she touched it the helm would make her finger numb for hours.

  The spell broke.

  Suddenly, j’ark and Tirielle could see the forest for what it was. Three limbless beasts from nightmares burst from the ground, thick as trees, and pulled themselves up to sway blindly in the air.

  They could see them now through the trees. In sound they were beguiling; in sight they were hideous to look at. Great blind eyes of beasts that burrowed through the ground roamed at the tip of the fat ugly worms were a head should have been. No mouth was visible, but atop (and it must be the top, reasoned Tirielle, for it was pointing up) the head tiny holes arrayed, still pumping sound into the air, but now Briskle had broken the spell on them they could hear it for what it truly was. The awful wailing of the hungry, mindless curden, monstrosities that emerged from underground burrows to lull their prey into senselessness with siren song. Tirielle and j’ark had been prey, just like the others who had not been so fortunate.

  C
olour would not hold. The grey pallor of the curdens’ hides was heretical among the lush colours of the forest.

  The worms thumped against the dirt and they came forward.

  Claws came to bear as Roth said, “You’d better get back with the others. I will hold them here.”

  “Well, it seems my sword is already drawn, Roth,” j’ark said with a smile.

  A cacophony of sound blasted forth from the creatures. Tirielle saw Briskle’s face set, grimly, as he waited for it to hit. Tirielle screamed and held her ears. The helm began shaking unbelievable fast against Briskle’s helm. It knocked him from his horse.

  The worms smacked against the earth again and slid for them. Briskle bled inside his helm.

  “Tirielle!” j’ark cried out. “Get back!” Briskle dusted himself off and ran forward, plain steel sword in hand, and hacked with all his might at a beast attacking Roth.

  j’ark pushed Tirielle onto the horse. “Go!” he shouted, slapping the horse’s rear.

  He saw her go, letting his attention drift for just a moment to make sure, then joined the fray.

  The beasts were obviously blind; their eyes looked like dead ocean pools. Blind or not they knew exactly where the three warriors stood.

  One’s head snapped forward, previously invisible jaws came into existence, opening wide enough to engulf a man. j’ark struck instantly causing the jaw to snap shut as his blade clove through the bottom jaw. A hideous wailing replaced what all those less fortunate before them had failed to hear…the soporific murmur that came from holes in the top of the beasts’ heads. The howls continued, not stopping even when j’ark pressed forward to strike again, but rising in tenor as heads whipped round to battle their food. j’ark drove his fine blade into an eye, hoping for the brain, but the beast merely shook its head and flung the warrior to the ground. He leaped to his feet. He stabbed again, and again.

  Roth slashed, Briskle hacked. Still the beasts came on.

  He jumped out of range just as a giant head smacked into the ground where he had been. A torn head rose up and took aim again.

  j’ark glanced down to the crushed forest at his feet. Green blood lay there.

  “I think it’s time we left!” he cried, and turned and ran. The other two followed behind him.

  They met Unthor, protecting the rear of the party in a few minutes.

  Roth sped past the stragglers, shouting, “Follow me!” as it went. Everyone broke into a run and the crashing sound of breaking wood almost covered the sound of earth and roots being pulled from the ground behind. Cenphalph and Unthor, both mounted, joined j’ark and Briskle at the rear. They watched the forest floor tear itself loose.

  “We can’t hurt them!”

  Briskle shrugged and hacked again, fighting on the backfoot all the time as he retreated.

  “Then we slice them to pieces!” shouted Unthor, sword sweeping down over his head and into the head of one beast as tall as him on his horse. “Come, fight back to the others!” He finished shouting as he was trying to pull his sword free from one of the slimy worms. Another butted Briskle and sent him flying.

  j’ark and Cenphalph battled the creatures back, holding them until the creatures seemed to realise the easier prey was escaping and moved to flank them. They were thankfully slow. Briskle shook his head as if stunned as Unthor turned his horse and pulled the helmed warrior up behind him.

  Cenphalph pulled j’ark up behind him and the laden horses galloped under already broken branches, calling out, “They’re coming!” as they retreated. They emerged ahead of the beasts to see the Sard standing at the edge of the wood, swords at the ready.

  Roth did not look up. It was kneeling and beating a round rock against the stone. There were other holes spotted around the rock clearing and ahead of them smooth nameless hills covered a horizon bereft of trees. Nothing grew on the rock, just cold greys and browns and potted holes.

  Tremors grew and the beasts crashed from the shade and into the suns. Maws opened to show putrid flesh that covered the roofs of their mouths. They let out another cry, this time battered back by Briskle’s talent, then slid, faster now on rock, toward the group. The Sard advanced with studied steps. It was the first time Tirielle had seen any but j’ark with sword in hand. They all took the same stance, one foot behind the other, sword in both hands, although some held their swords high, some to the side, and some in front.

  Then, they charged.

  Tirielle called to Roth, “Roth, help us!” but the rahken seemed lost in thought, beating out an arrhythmic tune on the stone drum by its knees. She put herself in front of the huddled group, mainly staring in wide-eyed, multi-coloured terror as the monsters pushed the battling Sard toward them. Cenphalph hacked at a fallen slug, his sword rising and falling and spraying thick algaeic blood in greener curves against the backdrop of trees.

  Quintal fought back two of the beasts, slashing with futile power at flesh that gave happily, slices evident on his foe but seemingly ineffective. j’ark fought with Unthor and Yuthran, each advancing and falling like waves fighting against the shore.

  Now detached from ground the beasts’ full size was apparent – two thirds of their length held them fast against the ground, the body raised up, crashing its weight down like a weapon and making the Sard dive and roll to escape. The beasts were pushing into the midst of the Sard line now, bleeding but not one yet fallen. Pushing them back toward the unarmed men and women behind them. They would not hold them back for much longer.

  Time dragged on as the creatures fought ever closer to their prey, all but ignoring the Sard now. Their horses, standing like sentinels around the prisoners, looked on, impatient to join the battle. Tirielle lost track of time. Each time a sword stroke fell she looked up and expected to see the suns move, but there was no change. They fought on.

  Then she felt pounding, rising up through her feet. Thud, thud, as it shook her teeth. She looked around, and there, the prisoners shaking, terror growing.

  A rumbling joined the clamour, slow and gentle at first, then grew, becoming insistent. A scrabbling sound fast approaching gradually drowned out the fight, and the other prisoners began exclaiming in fear. Some began to scream, “They are coming from under us! They’re under us!” and panic. Tirielle tried vainly to make them stand fast – to have them bolt now was surely to lose them all. The scrabbling grew louder. The sound was coming from the holes in the rock. Round holes, like the beast.

  “Get back from the holes!” she shouted, running around the former prisoners, screaming in their faces. “They are coming from the holes! Stay away from the holes!”

  Some ran blindly, thinking only of getting away. Two more of the prisoners were lost that day. One of the lucky prisoners ran blindly for the hills…straight over a hole in the rock and disappeared, only to reappear, legs unmoving, slowly. He fell out to one side looking down at his feet in sheer, gibbering terror.

  Light came from the hole. A lump of pointed, light refracting, pink crystal pushed it out. A small cluster of crystal emerged. Tirielle cried out to Roth for help, but turned to see her friend and ally had joined the fight, where it was driving claw and fist and tooth into the thick slippery hides of the growing army of worms at the edge of the wood, seemingly oblivious to her. She bunched her fists and walked to the hole where the shining crystal was slowly rising. Then another hole began to shine, and another, until all around her, in each and every hole, crystals shone with internal light and grew out of the holes slowly. Then, massive crystal hands clawed at the smooth rock sides of each hole, looking for purchase. Tirielle ran to the nearest and punched at a hand, trying to make the thing fall back. She pulled her hand back from searing pain and looked at the flayed flesh on her knuckles. She backed away and the crystal grew.

  The thing’s crystal head fell back to look at her and she backed away in terror as she realised what they were. Huge gauntlets encrusted with crystalline formations grown in the depths of earth, razor sharp across a million tiny peaks, pushing at th
e ground. Golems of crystal. The light from the two suns sought out every facet as they became revealed making them glitter. The crystal warriors rose up, dragging themselves from the holes to stand huge before the screaming dissidents. They advanced – toward the worms.

  The Sard saw the new threat and backed away, once more putting themselves between the threat and the innocent. The Golems seemed uncomfortable – managing to somehow convey meaning by merely standing. They stepped past the Sard, ignoring them, heading for the worms. The slimy beasts stopped for a second, sensing a new threat. Their heads shifted this way and that. Tirielle shielded her eyes as the light reflected in prisms became too bright for human eyes.

  Roth battled on alone and unaware for a second, until it too caught sight of the Golems out of the corner of its eye and backed away. It stood back to see what would happen.

  Then, faster than she would have expected, the crystal warriors fell upon a mutual enemy.

  Gauntlets swung at the worms with tremendous power. Each blow drew a thousand cuts. Huge fists smashed gaping holes where the Sard’s swords had only drawn blood. The golems punched and kicked, using their entire bodies as weapons, smashing and driving holes clear through flesh, chunks of worm and glutinous blood sliding off the crystal, finding no purchase despite the thousand chasms. For the few seconds that the battle lasted the Golems stood proud and shining as the ground gradually changed colour and the sound of agony passed into peaceful death. The worms battled mindlessly for a time, until the opponents with no faces wore them down. Even beasts know defeat.

  The survivor retreated, leaving a dark slick trail behind it.

  When the battle was finished, the gigantic warriors waited before the travellers, each larger than even Roth. Human and horse alike stood with quiet joy at being alive, looking to each other and wondering what to do. The crystal warriors themselves stood stock-still and looked out through clear visors which could not be seen into. j’ark stepped forward and spoke.

  “We thank you for your aid. Do you speak the common tongue?” Then turned to Quintal and said, “How was that?”