by Cole Pain
The eyes of the dead mage mocked him. Ren wondered if he was already forming into Barracus because of the hate lurking just below the surface. Was that how the former mage had turned vile?
A breeze stirred. Ren almost thought he heard it whisk away a man’s laughter.
Kill, deny, and destroy. The verity of the Oracles charges crashed inside him once again.
“Why are you asking me to do this?” he shouted at the crumbled stone.
There was no response, only harsh silence.
A table protruded from the rubble, paces from him. A small box rested on top. He didn’t recall seeing a table with a box. The only tables he had seen were by Choice and Chance, with arrows and dice.
Ren stepped over the remains of his partitioned face and approached the table, cautiously testing each stone before he went. The box was a small, metal pyx, the type used to carry healing herbs to kings and men of fortune centuries before. It was rumored all pxyes had been blessed by the fates in order to magnify the properties of the herbs and expedite the healing process. Ren had always wondered how a pyx could be blessed by the fates if the fates were intangible. Now he knew. They were blessed by the Oracle’s Fate.
Ren picked it up. It couldn’t be here to heal him. He was sick at heart, not in body. Could it be another message? A sweeping aversion resonated in every limb. He couldn’t take another message. The last three were more than he could endure.
Small chiseled runes lining the edges of the pyx caught his attention. They consisted of a multiple backward-slanted Z’s, the symbol for victory, the same symbol etched on the hilt of his sword.
What was victory without his mother, Aidan, or his own soul?
The sun sunk lower in the sky. He needed to hurry back to the others. He was tired, but he desperately needed to see his friends.
He placed the pyx on the table.
“No more,” he said.
The pyx’s sides collapsed. An explosion of colors shot skyward with the force of the ten winds. Ren fell. A stone’s jagged edge sliced through his shoulder.
The colors pulsated faster and faster. The turbulence whipped around him, flailing his hair and threatening to tear his clothes from his body. The skin on his face burnt from the vitality of the color’s movement. The air surrounding him, the air providing life and nourishment, was whisked away, leaving him parched and drained. His lips dried, his eyes stung, the nausea in his chest caused him to swivel and relieve himself of his last meal.
When he turned back to the colors they were forming a picture. Ren shielded his eyes from their brilliance but was unable to turn away from the images before him.
As the wind beat and the colors pulsed, he saw an image of himself killing his mother with his sword, running her through with lethal intent. Then the scene changed. The colors turned dark as screams of horror filled his mind. He clutched his mother to him, watching as others fell around him in death. With each death he pulled Renee closer. The look on their faces was defiant and heinous. His mother, one of the most beautiful women in the Lands, was laughing at death.
The colors surged again, forming an image of the silver dragon. He stood over it, as the painting showed, plunging his sword into its heart. Ren tried to turn away as the silver dragon’s violet eyes began to weep, but before he could the image changed into one of darkness.
He walked toward the manacled dragon. Barracus’ face smiled in anticipation. The silver wailed a warning through its clamped jaws as he sliced a gouge deep into the silver’s flanks. The dragon howled in pain as fire spewed through its muzzle, creating a red ball that grew larger and larger, dominating the scene and blackening out the horizon.
The colors pulsated again until they created an image of him kneeling before a man of darkness. The shadow moved toward him, swallowing his essence. Suddenly a ray of light shot through the dark man, shattering the shadow’s form into thousands of minuscule black pieces. He rose from the soot, drained and torn but whole.
Then the scene changed. He saw himself walking toward the sheet of darkness and standing proud before it. As he drew his sword the darkness swallowed him. His body shuddered and twisted until he became a torrent of madness.
When the scenes ended, the colors swirled faster. They became a stark white hand with long, sharp fingernails. The hand opened and moved toward him, wrapping around his neck and choking all air from his lungs.
Just before he lost consciousness he heard them and he knew if he didn’t heed their voice the second image of each scene would become reality.
“Heed us, Chosen. Heed us or you will fail. Truth above all. Truth above … ”
- - -
Manda stood on a rock, heedful of the poisoned black water sloshing at her feet.
People she loved were dying on the shore, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t reach them even if she could tear free from the chains that encompassed her entire length. She would die as soon as she hit the water.
Evann floated by, eyes wide and lifeless. Blood seeped from his chest, but the black poison washed it away. Manda turned her head, unable to bear the sight any longer.
She heard familiar laughter and turned to find Alezza gliding toward her on top of the water, the hem of her golden gown bobbing in the poisoned darkness. Manda was sure Alezza would begin to scream as the liquid ate her flesh, but then she realized Alezza was poison. The black liquid couldn’t harm her. A chain dangled from Alezza’s hand and disappeared into the water. Alezza lifted the chain.
Chris emerged from the dark depths, twisting in torment as the poison ate his flesh. His green eyes, filled with holes from the poison’s touch, entreated her for help. Manda jerked, tearing at her chains. One of her feet slipped into the water. A hollow moan rose in her chest as the water bit into her skin. She watched as her foot became a bloody, bony stub.
Alezza dropped Chris back into the water, smiling in amusement as Manda begged for his life.
“Like this?” Alezza lifted Chris’ degenerating body out of the water once more. His flesh was gone. All that remained was a bloody mass of tissue, but he still writhed on the chain. Surrounded by crimson, the whites of his eyes looked horrific. There was no life in those eyes, only madness.
Alezza released the chain and let the last of Chris disappear under the poisoned depths. Alezza reached for Manda. “You’re next, my dear.”
Alezza began to pull her into the water.
Manda resisted, gripping the stone as hard as she could, screaming out the atrocious acts she would do to Alezza when she was able. Alezza only laughed, tugging harder.
A calm stole over Manda. It was a peace she couldn’t describe. Why was she resisting? Everyone she loved was gone. There was nothing left to fight for.
She forced her muscles to relax and let Alezza pull her toward the icy darkness. Manda felt the poison begin to creep up her ankles, prickling her flesh with its tongue of death.
A voice came from the distance, whispering of hope and telling her how much she was loved.
She listened, ignoring the pain as the poison rose higher. She felt something on her face and tasted tears, but they weren’t her own. In the distance she saw Lazo coming toward her in a boat.
Alezza snarled, pulling harder. Manda fell, expecting the bite of the poison to envelope her. It did not. When she opened her eyes she found herself in the boat. She could hear the poisoned liquid eating the wood, but the small boat still had buoyancy. Lazo began rowing to shore. His one blue and one green eye were filled with harrowing loneliness, but when he met her gaze determination and love overcame the desolation. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
“Lazo, I don’t want to live.”
“If you give up, Alezza will win.”
Alezza will win.
The phrase hit her like lightning.
She would never let Alezza win. Manda rolled to her knees, watching the tiniest sprays of dark water enter the cracks in the wood and willed the boat to move faster. She had to reach the sho
re. She had to find a sword and prepare for Alezza’s return. Alezza would pay for harming her brother. She would pay dearly.
Manda opened her eyes and brushed away the moisture on her face. Blinking, she tried to focus. The world was different. The sound of lapping water was gone. Someone drew her into an embrace as the cool touch of the breeze tickled her face. She pushed away, needing to understand. She looked into the contrasting eyes she had seen in her dream.
“Lazo?”
Lazo smiled. Relief tumbled through her. It was only a dream.
She looked around. The naked Sierra Mountains jutted into the dusky light. Horses grazed in the distance. A fire crackled from somewhere beyond her vision.
“Where?” She forced Lazo’s arms away and stood as the memories washed over her. Lazo caught her as her knees buckled. She struggled, trying to break free. She had to find Chris.
When she finally broke from Lazo’s hold she ran toward her horse. From her peripheral vision she saw the Avenger. The pain she had sensed in him before was now etched in the smallest contours of his face. She changed direction and dropped to the ground before him.
“Did you?”
Aaron nodded his assent as his eyes filled with pain. It took her a few breaths to realize the pain she saw in them was her own.
“Did he feel it? Did he feel everything he did to us?”
“More,” Aaron said.
Manda sat back on her heels. She didn’t feel the satisfaction she had hoped for, only a hollow emptiness. She studied the Avenger, sensing he already knew her thoughts.
“I need to find him,” she said, referring to Chris.
Aaron took her hand. She could still feel the power pulsating within him.
“We will help.”
“You’re avenging both of us?”
“No.”
“I don’t understand. I thought you only feel power when you’re avenging a betrayed.”
“When I avenged you I avenged your brother. The power within me isn’t the same as the avenging power. It’s less intense but more painful. My purpose is to save your brother, Manda. That’s why I still live.”
The gray haired man beside the Avenger began to hum a tune she hadn’t heard since she was a small girl.
If he can’t find the purpose there
If he can’t give his love away
The Avenger will walk the land no more
And the world will be betrayed.
She looked at the Avenger, unsure what the song meant.
Aaron’s eyes glowed golden in the firelight. In them, Manda saw years of pain, centuries of living with the agony that could only come from love’s betrayal. It was too much for her to fathom. The depths of his gaze told her he was never free of the anguish. With every breath he felt the pain of love.
His love was the only thing saving him from the pain. How would he survive if he gave his love away?
She wanted to help him. She took his hand and kissed it, holding it to her face in silent thanks.
He smiled. When he did, his entire face lit with caring beyond comprehension.
“Thank you, Manda. You’ve given me a purpose. Your heart is pure. You remind me of someone I knew long ago. I’ll do my best not to fail this time. I’ll do my best to save your brother.”
Manda wrapped her arms around the Avenger’s neck, too overcome for words.
- - -
“I want you both to remember not to judge people by their appearance,” Ramie said, looking between his children, “and to strive to be beautiful on the inside.”
Ravi stared up at him with wide wet eyes. Reese sat in silence as he always did after one of his father’s lessons, contemplating what he had just been told. Javi watched from across the room with a smile on her face.
“Is he all alone, Daddy?” Ravi asked.
Ramie pulled his daughter into an embrace. She had been calling him Father for years. Her reversion to the more childish name betrayed how much the story had touched her. “Yes, he’s more or less all alone.”
“Make him come here. He wouldn’t be alone here. Reese and I would spend time with him,” Ravi said quietly. Ramie smiled into her long, black hair. Ravi was going to be even more beautiful than Javi, if that was possible, and just as tender hearted.
“I tried, Ravi. He wouldn’t have it. That’s another lesson to you both.” Ramie glanced at Reese to see if he was listening. “You have to want to help yourself before help will come. Even a king has to rely on others. You must let others help you in order to become the great person you strive to be. Do you understand?”
They both nodded. A lone tear slid down Ravi’s check. She brushed it away before Reese noticed.
Ramie sighed and looked out the window. He had been back for two days but he still couldn’t banish Presario from his mind. He had replayed the experience over and over, regretting his harsh words but still angered by Presario’s obstinacy.
He only wished there was a way to mend the bridge he had burned, but he knew Presario would never allow him into his home again. He had failed.
And he had left the book, foolishly left the book. Presario said Ramie’s anger would be his destruction. Anger made him forget the book. It may be that very slip to which Presario alluded, but now his pride wouldn’t let him return to claim the patoi. His men would face Ista without magic.
His troops were almost ready to march. They would leave the following morning. He was terrified to face Ista, but it was the only way.
Wrong was wrong. If magic was on the wrong side, so be it. He had waited long enough.
The only light was the messenger from Ketes. Tec had been waiting when Ramie had returned to the keep, apologizing for the delay. Bostic had responded to the message as soon as it had arrived, but Tec had a little trouble with Ista’s troops, not to mention a few bouts with creatures of magic. Tec had only brushed the surface of his journey, but it was enough for Ramie to knight him on the spot. The things the boy had gone through were harrowing. Ramie was surprised Tec made it to Yor alive, much less in the short time he had.
Bostic was ready to launch a full attack, but like Ramie knew more fighting power was needed. Ramie had just sent word back to Bostic. In a fortnight their armies would meet on the road to Zier. He hadn’t told anyone what the messenger carried. If spies were among his men it was one surprise he would have on his side.
A gentle brush on his shoulder broke Ramie out of his somber thoughts. Ramie looked over into Ravi’s brown eyes. “What is it, pudding?”
Ravi rolled her eyes and twisted her hair over one already elegant finger. “Don’t call me that, father. I’m almost sixteen years old.”
Ramie bowed his head in submission. “Yes, forgive me. I forget how fast you’ve grown.”
Ravi repressed a smile. “Can magic mend Presario’s wounds?”
Ramie blinked. He hadn’t thought of the possibility. Could it? “I don’t know, Ravi. I don’t know how the Quy works.”
“It could, Father,” Reese said, looking much older than his fourteen years. “I’m sure of it. Ravi has already healed a few scrapes. She’s going to be a powerful shaman. When she’s older she could alter a burning easily.”
Ramie’s face colored. He spun to Javi. She lost her smile and held up her hands in defense. “I can’t stop them, Ramie. You know how incorrigible they are. I can’t be with them every sun’s click.”
Reese paled. Ravi quickly retreated.
“I told you two not to use the Quy!”
“But – ”
“No buts, Reese! You could harm yourself by doing too much too fast!”
“But you won’t let us learn!”
“Silence!” Ramie stepped toward them. Ravi and Reese shrunk into themselves. “I told you there are people wanting to control those who have the power. You both could be taken and used to hurt me, this kingdom!”
He spun to Javi. “This isn’t something we can afford go unchecked. Do you want your children captured?”
Javi’s d
ark eyes welled with tears.
Ramie softened. He didn’t want his last conversation with his family to be in anger. He was leaving tomorrow. He didn’t expect to return.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t bear the thought of any of you coming to harm. I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll be gone for a long time. I want to know you’re safe.”
Reese’s face drained of color. “Are you marching to war?”
“Yes.”
Reese stiffened. “I want to go with you.”
“You’re my heir, Reese. You’ll have to maintain Oldan until I return.”
Reese blushed with pride but frowned when he realized he had been turned away. Ramie wished his request was in jest, but it wasn’t. He couldn’t trust anyone else with his kingdom. Because responsibility had been forced upon him at a young age Ramie had wished many times Reese would take an interest in something other than his studies, but Reese hungered for knowledge the way the desert hungered for rain. He had matured far more than other children his age, Ravi included. Now Ramie thanked the Maker Reese was the way he was for he felt confident Reese could handle the responsibility that would now be forced upon him.
A sharp knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts. His brow furrowed. His men knew better than to disturb him when he was with his children.
“Come,” he said, quickly changing into the king of Yor and not the father of two.
One of his guards hesitantly stuck his head inside the door. “Two men wish to speak to you, my lord. We’ve tried to turn them away but they won’t hear of it. They claim they’re from Mintree.”
Ramie couldn’t believe it. He stood to walk from the room but hesitated. If it was Presario he needed to be greeted in an informal setting, not as a king would greet a subject. Ramie turned to the guard and nodded. “Show them in here.”