The Sage's Reign

by Shakyra Dunn

  Kinaju clapped his hands once before rubbing his palms together, his mouth already watering, his eyes growing ravenous. “Oh, how I’ve awaited a formidable meal.”

  “I hope you enjoy it. We have a lot to discuss.”

  Solus was baffled. Hinju was trying to be a decent father, but he wasn’t sure how much that he could buy it. This man was the acting scion of a forthcoming war, and only Rem had the power to turn the tides. Too much was at stake to risk over a simple lamb and some conversation that could have turned dastardly within minutes. Still, there was a sense of relaxation weighing his shoulders down rather than stress. Sure, it didn’t feel as though he were home again, but it was becoming charming to be in the presence of his birth family. He gazed at the empty seat at the far end of the table, expecting to see the naïve, famed prince meant to ravish in the glory of his budding kingdom. But now that he was missing, there was only hope that he’d return.

  “You recall your mission, Solus,” Hinju stated. Solus stopped mid-bite to listen, and Kinaju didn’t care enough about the warranted words to slow down. “You have returned and taken your place among your family. Now, we can claim the throne with you as its rightful heir, what the kingdom deserves.”

  The food slipped from Solus’s fork. “Please no.” The words came out faster than he processed, and he had to swallow to keep any more from slipping out.

  Hinju didn’t look appeased by the proclamation. “This is important, Solus. You are close to the Prince of Adrylis, the last heir to the throne. You have succeeded virtues that your ancestors have not as the last prolific Necromancer of our lineage—you can take Adrylis with your own hands, and a new era of magic can be ushered in. The growth of Necromancy, of rebirth after death, can thrive and prosper.”

  Solus was dumbstruck. This was their ‘desire’ for magical renaissance? To unlock potentials that Necromancers had while walking alongside the Kings of Adrylis and make it a reality? The past was long passed.

  “It took eradicating the Vesarus bloodline to step back into the limelight?” Solus’s voice nearly emerged as a growl, but he concealed it under the guise of clearing his throat and taking a sip of the white wine to his left. Kinaju looked between the two and slowed to a more minimal pace with his overconsumption of food, remaining silent.

  Hinju folded his hands, resting them on the table. “The Vesarus family exiled us to Gularin, and there we shaped our own kingdom. Necromancy is, ironically, a dying art. We couldn’t allow that. We carry the power to breathe life into the deceased. And we only grow stronger as we pull them from the dark depths of their essence, dragging them from their sorrows.”

  “They walk with no mind, acting faithful to their chosen master,” Solus continued. “They act with no fire, no spirit to call their own. That is what Necromancy is.”

  “It is a perfect world,” Hinju remarked. Solus was tapping his knee under the table, insecure about the direction of the conversation. “One where people cannot act with haste, and therefore, the world remains intact. How many magic-users have taken up the mantle of rebellion and in turn lost their minds, their hearts, or even their lives? Your friend, Remiel, is among the most reckless, unable to control his power as a Bloodlinch.”

  “Don’t speak of Remiel that way,” Solus said sharply. “If magic-users act in rebellion, why teach them? Why offer those that have gained your trust false hope to become Warlords and correct society if your true goal was to brainwash them?”

  Hinju’s eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction, pointing his staff at the boy, sending an array of swords and axes from the metal knights standing guard in the room forward, each tip pointing in a different direction, aimed at the boy. Kinaju almost dropped his fork, the change of pace unexpected. Solus folded his hands, not an ounce of fear nor regret slipping through. Maybe he could have worded it in a non-suspicious manner, but the truth was going to come out regardless, so why hold back?

  “Is this your way of defying me?”

  “I am merely curious,” Solus responded.

  “That is one answer you will not receive,” Hinju stated firmly, lowering his staff and returning the weapons to their places with a simple wave. Solus held up his hands, ending the subject in its place.

  “Does this mean no dessert?” Kinaju piped up, earning stern looks from either side. He managed a hesitant chuckle, setting his fork down, brushing crumbs from his lips. “Sorry.”

  “Is it true, me being your son?” Solus asked Hinju.

  “Yes,” Hinju said simply, cutting into his food without so much as a passing glance. “I was there when you were conceived as well as when you were born. I have no doubts that you are my son. The second of three, in fact.”

  “And none of us have the same mother,” Solus concluded.

  “False,” Hinju replied. “You and the oldest, Nuria, did. Kinaju does not. His mother died giving birth to him, so he was accepted into the family upon agreement from your mother.” Kinaju lowered his head slightly at the statement. Same father, different mothers. He had always known, but to hear it aloud was unsettling. “Why the sudden string of questions?”

  “Pardon my forwardness. I figured I’d ask while they were on the brain,” Solus implied. “Does this mean that Kinaju and I both gain our accents and demeanors from our mothers?”

  “Everyone from Gularin carries an accent like yours, born of rebellion and intelligence,” Hinju told him. “I was raised in Adrylis, so I lack this trait. You merely adopted it. As for your demeanors, you are far more formal—that is how you were primed to be not only as the heir to Gularin’s legacy, but as the chosen sword of the future king. You are destined for great deeds.”

  He forced out the words, “And my mother?”

  “Long dead,” Hinju spoke without hesitation. The insincerity told Solus more than enough. What he had long reclaimed was nothing more than a winded roundabout that he would never receive a clear answer for. Hinju likely killed his mother to draw out his powers. That, or he had forced Solus to perform the deed and pinned the blame on him.

  Solus finished his meal and stood up, pushing in his chair. “Thank you for the meal. I think I’m going to turn in early. I haven’t regained enough strength just yet.”

  Kinaju watched his older brother leave the dining hall, turning to the man across the table from him again. “Was that meeting adequate for you, father?”

  Hinju folded his hands, considering his younger son’s words. “I’ve missed many years of his life, and after his departure, I never knew what path he would take. He was always destined to cross paths with Prince Remiel, but never did I consider that he would become affiliated with him. He’s certainly turned the tides in what I expected of him.”

  “Father-”

  Hinju stood up, the chair screeching at the swift movement, turning to exit the dining room. “However, that doesn’t mean that he will change his mind about his chosen destination—he is faithful to the royal families of both Adrylis and Minsura. I will have to make adjustments.”

  Kinaju was left to stare longingly at his unfinished meal in the unruly silence, sighing to himself. “Not too many adjustments, I hope.”

  Solus decided in advance that he would need to depart from Linmus tonight. He couldn’t bear to stick around to watch his father bring further ruin to the kingdom. His place was no longer here, not without Rem—not without the memories he’d lost prior to being rescued. He waited for the moon to vanish beneath the night sky, an overpass for the world to bear witness. Magic was at a limitation—it was the perfect time for him to run.

  He carefully opened his door to find Kinaju already lying in wait with a bird on his arm, leaving Solus to debate on finding a ruse for slipping out.

  “You’re leaving?” Kinaju asked calmly, gesturing to the bird. “You know the drill, Currio. Come back safe, all right?” The bird flew away with a note on its talon. A message for the skies, bearing many names that Solus couldn’t burden himself with.

  “Maybe,” Solus admitted.

>   “You don’t need to lie. Dinner told me all that I needed to know about your thoughts.” Solus was awestruck at how soon he’d uncovered the truth. Maybe there really wasn’t a point in hiding it. Kinaju was well trained—Solus could keep no proper secret. Solus took one good look to find him unarmed. There was peace behind his gesture. As if to prove his point, Kinaju held up both hands to rest behind his head.

  “I’m not here to fight. You’re free to search me. I assure you, you’ll find no dagger nor sword.”

  Solus decided to take his offer, patting down the younger man. All the while Kinaju wordlessly waited for him to finish. Solus stood up straight again and crossed his arms. A man of his word, there wasn’t a single weapon in his possession. Kinaju lowered his hands again.

  “Why did you come, Kinaju?”

  “There is too much that you don’t know, Solus,” Kinaju began. “I didn’t expect you to stick around without feeling the urge to return to the prince.”

  Solus traced the boy’s eyes. They were damp with remorse, his genuine disappointment becoming evident the more that he observed. “And yet, you seem unhappy.”

  Kinaju didn’t bother to hide it, placing his arms behind his back. He’d even tried to feign a smile. “I had secretly wished that you’d chosen us instead. Your lineage is with us—with me. We are brothers, sons of the Warlord Hinju Leerus, and grandsons of Hinsuto Leerus. But your heart truly does ring the name of Vesarus and his followers. I was foolish to believe anything less. Remiel is your brother too.”

  Solus sighed, resting a hand on Kinaju’s head. “It’s possible to have more than one brother, you know.” Kinaju’s eyes regained a sense of hope, one that ignited a flicker of a flame in Solus’s heart. “You’ve guided me for some time in ways that I never imagined, and you’ve brought me back to the light. Thank you, Kinaju.”

  His touch lingered over Kinaju’s hair for a moment longer before Solus departed from the hall, leaving him to lie in wait once more. Someday, they would meet again, but it would likely be on another side of the playing field. Either way, he would be waiting.

  Solus knew that he would be, and he didn’t mind the idea of someone being there at the end. At least someone was seeing him off.

  When he reached the castle courtyard, he forced himself not to observe his surroundings, but the aroma of vigorous wintergreen plunged into his senses. It seemed like a far-off dream to process that the last time he’d set foot in this ever-familiar courtyard was five years ago—the day that he and Rem would unknowingly be leaving Linmus and embarking on a winded adventure that would carry them to the major cities of Adrylis. Soon, he would be seeing his prince again.

  He wondered if they would recognize each other.

  He took the longest walk out of the courtyard, past the iron gates left unguarded, unhinged. It was almost like even Hinju himself knew that no one would come for him here. That was either sheer arrogance, or no one would suspect a fallen kingdom; he wasn’t sure which idea was more baffling to believe. His first steps out of the kingdom grounds were greeted with utter silence. But it wasn’t the lack of people that drew him to the inner square that used to be so crowded and prolific; it was the memories of what used to be, and of what Linmus should have been. He rounded the familiar corner that would guide him through the alleyways to find Kinstreak, the windows shattered, and the door broken from its hinges. Yet, the sickeningly sweet aroma of pastries slipped past the damages, a frightening memento left behind by Phiran.

  He stepped inside of the shop. The tables were overturned, the counter still splattered with blood. The pastries that he and Rem always dashed into town for were rotted and moldy, leaving him with a fit of nausea rather than excitement. Phiran’s body was incinerated by the flames that took most of Linmus, but somehow, Solus had hoped to find some trace of him rather than a handkerchief that Rem seized to remember him by. Rem didn’t deserve to live with the memories of his subjects through collected trinkets. One by one, people were slipping away, and he could only hold the pieces tight.

  “So, this is what your plan was.” Solus reached for the sword on his back only to have another extend towards his neck, primed to kill. Solus lowered his hand to lay back at his side.

  “You don’t normally use swords, do you? Your hands are shaky, and I imagine that your form is off.” Solus swung out to grab the man’s wrist, pressing his fingers against the nerve endings and forcing him to drop the sword, which clanked against the ground. True enough, Hinju was smiling at him, holding up his free hand in lieu of a wave. Solus grit his teeth, the urge to strike him down ever present, but Kinaju’s feelings continued to push through his morality.

  “You really have grown,” Hinju pointed out.

  “What are you doing here?” Solus groaned, freeing the man from his bind.

  “I was just in the neighborhood and saw you sneaking around. I thought you’d like a walk back to the castle.” Solus’s eyes narrowed. His eyes were genuine, but he knew by now that Hinju’s words were not without virtue and deceit. “Was that not your intention?”

  “I don’t plan on sticking around,” Solus stated.

  “Off to find the prince and bring him to Linmus now that you’ve seen the state of your fallen kingdom?” Solus wished that he could wipe that arrogant smirk off the man’s face, but the time would come when he could reap his pitiful soul. “I can understand that he still has his own mission to uphold, and time is of the essence. After all, you’ve regained yourself. Surely, he must have done the same by now. The two of you are passionate about one another.”

  “I won’t let you lay a finger on him,” Solus hissed. “Make no mistake about that.”

  “Why, Solus, perish the thought. Your word is law in my mind. You are my heir, and I wouldn’t dream of disobeying you. I will be waiting here in Linmus patiently for your return.” Hinju chuckled, reaching out a hand to lay atop the younger man’s head. “And hopefully by the time that we have a happy reunion, you’ll have chosen correctly.”

  Solus wordlessly pulled away from him and exited Kinstreak. The closer that he came to the town square, the more that his head began to cloud. His vision was working in doubles, and he felt himself losing consciousness. He threw a hand to his throbbing forehead, tightly shutting his burning eyes to try and ease the building tension. He had to grip a wall to keep himself steady, unsure of what had suddenly come over him.

  Power sleeps within you. Merely accept its value and you shall prosper.

  He was seeing red at every corridor, unable to pull away from the malignant force tearing him apart from the inside out, realization striking him like a bolt of lightning. Hinju had cursed him, just as he’d cursed many others before him. His eyes went bloodshot, and shakily, he took up his sword. The scent of metal was overpowering, making his stomach turn. He had to rid of it before the sensation destroyed his insides.

  He was scoping out every single instance of the odor and found several shadowy beasts roaming the area, running from him at first glance. Solus’s feet moved far faster than his mind. He couldn’t allow them to hurt the people in the city again, especially after Hinju forced them to commit such treason. They were innocent animals just looking to survive, and their hearts were corrupted by the mystics of one arrogant man that wanted to eradicate the royal family. There were still people here that wanted to live.

  One by one, he cut shadows to dust, and the metallic odor slipped past his nose before dispersing without a trace. Solus snarled as he pursued his next target, and upon slicing the shadow in two, a blood-curdling scream emerged through the shifting winds, all too close to his burning ears, no different from a young woman’s cries. No. Certainly, he was mistaken.

  Once the odor filling the air cleansed itself, Solus sighed of relief and rubbed his stomach. Only then did he notice the blood coating his blade, dripping onto the bitter soil. He brought his broadsword closer to his eyes, and the thick substance seeped down his arm. He rubbed his eyes until the crimson hue faded from his vision. R
ight at his feet was the body of a near-decapitated man. He jumped back with a horrified yelp, tripping over another behind him, landing in the pool of blood sloshing on the ground. He covered his mouth with both hands, tears filling his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to scream, the realization of his actions setting in.

  Every shadow in the kingdom that he’d attacked was born of deception. Hinju was always a front-liner for the concept and had even played with his own son’s hands to ensure that there was something to remember him by. He had been so foolish to let him enter his mind for even an instant. But Kinaju was so certain that his father’s actions were good, that maybe, just maybe, Solus wanted to believe in the only person from an outside force that cared for him.

  “There has to be a way,” he whispered, sitting upright.

  He could still save them. He had saved one person before, he knew it. He remembered how easily that the need to save someone came to him. Surely, he could do it again with no ill will present. But how was he supposed to revive so many fallen people in the vicinity at once?

  He laid his hands on the ground, the dirt clinging to his fingernails. He inhaled slowly and kept his heart as steady as his body, shutting his eyes after releasing the sharp breath again.

  “I don’t know what I’m capable of at my current level, but… I’m a Necromancer. I was born to revive the dead, born to seize the throne. That’s something that I must accept. I have this power. I have to use it to find my way back to Remiel.”

  The souls were resonating with the terrain, drifting haplessly while awaiting his gentle push before they would be forced to depart to the afterlife, moaning in agony, left to wonder what fate had befallen them so quickly. By his hand, they were damned, but by his hand, they could be restored. Their time was already coming. He found his place in a land bathed in blinding white, the essence of each fading light comparable to starlight. Solus reached out a single finger to each soul to pull them back to their bodies. He hoped that the after-effects wouldn’t be too great for them to endure.