by Nesa Miller
“Perfect.”
Dar moved inland, counting his steps as he walked. Several hundred feet from the edge of the cliffs, he turned, drew his sword, and surveyed the distance. He marked an x on the ground with the tip of his blade, then searched for a good-sized stone. Being at the cliff’s edge, it did not take long. Stone in the desired spot, he walked toward the southwestern side of the cliffs. Once again, he counted his steps and marked the spot. He returned to the center mark, turned to his right, and counted his steps to the southeast. With x and stone in place, he returned to the center. Raising his sword, he spotted each mark down the length of the blade. Satisfied, he lowered the tip to the ground and scratched a power symbol into the earth, this one larger than its predecessor. This one was for protection.
“Let no man, woman, or demon destroy what I build here.”
Energy centralized, he pushed the life force out from his core. The ground shifted, giving way for a wall of stone the color of heavy cream streaked with veins of gold to rise. It curved from the southeastern shore to the southwest. Massive gates of black agate split the wall at its northwest point. The outer barrier in place, Dar raised a great manor house…two stories above ground, one below. An elegant structure of quiet beauty and strength, it was constructed of the same warm stone as the outer wall, minus the gold veins. The southern and southeastern sides of the massive house extended to the cliffs, overlooking the blue water of the sea.
Taking a step, a road emerged before him, winding to the main gates. He followed the road into the courtyard, and approached the entrance of the house. Once inside, he moved into the largest room of the first floor and called upon his powers again. In the center, a dais rose to a height of four feet. Upon it sat a throne created from a rare Krymerian mineral, its high, arched back in the shape of a great winged serpent, its arms made of skulls from long-dead demons. The feet were shaped like griffins, while the whole of the throne boasted flames of black and blue. Dar climbed the stairs and sat on the great throne. “Today, I start anew.” He scanned the room, a slight smile coming to his lips. “Not bad, but far from complete.” He stood, descended the throne, and left the room.
With a mere thought, his second-skin armor retracted into itself and disappeared, revealing his black leathers and thigh high boots with tops finished in silver. Appropriately dressed as the lord of the manor, he strolled through his new abode, doing his best to see it as a home instead of a base of operations.
It is set well from an offensive point of view, but lacks a certain touch.
In the great courtyard, he viewed the tops of the walls imagining where the roofline would be. “A reconnaissance mission should do the trick.” Decision made, Dar enjoyed the long walk to the north side of the island, taking note of the rise and fall of the land, the thick forests, the richness of the earth, and the beauty of his surroundings.
When the town came into view, he canvased its comings and goings, the various ins and outs, the distance of the port from the town center, and how easy or difficult it would be to defend should the need arise.
“Akureyri, time to meet your new master.”
Once in the bustling harbor town, he spent the day with local shop owners, as well as their patrons, and made inquiries as to the best craftsmen and women who could turn his fortress into a home. The people welcomed the handsome stranger with smiles and warm handshakes, as though they had known him all their lives. Dar tasted the fresh bread, sipped local wines, tested the balance of new steel, and went out to the docks to view the latest innovations in boat construction. Within a few hours, tradesmen had been contracted to begin work. The people knew his face and name. The town was his. Mission accomplished. Now, he could concentrate on more personal business.
Upon his return, Dar opened a portal and stepped into the Hall of Memories, a room lined with Krymerian memorabilia left by those long gone. He passed the displays of weaponry, drawings, pottery, and art, walking toward the far end of the hall. A table and chair, both carved from a rare red hardwood, similar to mahogany, stood apart from the other displays. On the table sat a skull carved from a single crystal. The cavernous eye hollows lined with black diamonds contrasted with the teeth of red rubies. Upon its brow sat an opal crown.
At Dar’s approach, the skull spoke. “What is it you seek, young traveler? Future, past, or present?” As if reading the Krymerian’s mind, the skull faced north. “The past, is it? Sit, and all shall be answered.”
Dar obeyed. “Tell me of the death of my family.”
After a long silence, the skull began. “A sad day it was. The morning dawned bright and happy, like most of the days during King Dari’s reign. His son, the High Lord, was away on patrol in the western reaches of his father’s kingdom.” The skull quieted for a moment, as though taking a breath. “The High Lord’s wife and children were in the garden when they came, a vast hoard of demons and soldiers of the Bok’Na’Ra. The heads of the men, placed on pikes, were displayed in the courtyard. The women and children ruthlessly massacred. Even when tortured and asked the whereabouts of the High Lord, none would tell.”
After a slight pause, the skull continued. “King Dari’s head was removed and placed on the throne, his eyes plucked from their sockets and placed on each armrest. The High Lord’s wife and children suffered the most, skinned alive, the children forced to watch as the monsters chained their mother to a table and peeled away shallow lines of flesh, one at a time. Before she could pass to the nether world of our ancestors, they did the same to her children.
“If not for a wandering priest, their bodies would have been food for wild animals. He set a great funeral pyre and said prayers for everyone as their remains disintegrated into ash.”
Dar wept for his children, his wife, and his people.
Wiping at the tears, his gaze returned to the soothsayer, his voice thick with grief. “Tell me who gave the orders.”
Black diamond eyes glittered. “It was a dark day indeed. He knew to kill his brother was to kill himself, but to kill those his brother loved would surely destroy his will.”
Dar felt the color drain from his face. “Are you telling me my own brother destroyed everything I held dear?”
Turning to the south, the oracle looked to the future. “One will die by the hand of the other. If the dark brother is the victor, all will be lost for there will be none to stop him.” Dar stared, his thoughts on his brother. He had always suspected Midir’s involvement in the slaughter, but had convinced himself it was not true. How could the man be so brutal? They had been Midir’s family as much as they had been his. The skull faced him. “King of Krymeria, High Lord of Kaos, you must be victorious in this endeavor.”
The last words jarred him from his thoughts. “How am I to do that, Skull of Memories? You know the legacy. If one dies, so goes the other.” This was all ancient history. He had not come all this way to hear the same old story. It had been his life. What a waste of precious time! He pushed out of the chair.
“The birth of a child ends one legacy and begins a new one.” A hairline crack appeared at the base of the skull. “Therein lay the path to his demise.”
Dar stopped his pacing. His anger felt like a wild stallion, waiting to break its bonds. He was not sure how much longer he could contain it. “What in the name of Krymeria are you talking about? What child?”
“A dragon warrior of Lyoness will lighten the dark…,” the skull counseled, another crack inching toward the first, “or darken the light.”
“Lyoness died in battle!” He paced again, lost in thought. “She has no line, nor would she have sullied herself with a Draconian. Stop talking in riddles. Tell me what I need to know.”
The two cracks merged, traveling up the back of the skull, meeting at what was once the forehead, splitting again. The diamond eyes fell away.
Hearing the fracture, Dar rushed to the skull, grappling with the pieces, hoping to keep it together a little longer. “Wait. There must be more.”
“Lothous kno
ws the way.” The words floated eerily through the hall as the skull crumbled.
Dar felt as though his brain would explode. “A dead priest?” He stared at the pile of dust. “A dead priest. For the love of…” Scrubbing his hands over his face, he left the great hall.
Dar roamed the hallways of his new home, mentally assessing the completion of each room. Work on the house had progressed far beyond his expectations during his absence. His time in the Hall of Memories had lasted longer than anticipated, mainly attributed to the altering time flows between the dimensions.
Inspection of the roof reinforced his choice in utilizing tradesmen from the small town. The workmanship was impeccable, exquisite. These Alamir work fast, but the quality is beyond reproach. A few more days would see the house finished.
Eventually, he returned to the throne, collapsing into it, drifting off to sleep.
A battle fought. Alamir against Alamir – or who were once Alamir. How had it come to this? They were given a gift as protectors of the human realm, to rise above the frailties of being human, to keep their brothers and sisters safe from atrocities. However, these Alamir became more human than humans, fighting one another or, worse, siding with the Bok’Na’Ra. Scattered across the ground, corpses of fallen heroes lay among dead Bok. Moans of pain carried for miles, the air thick, smelling of metal. Bloody and tired, the faithful managed to push the dark soldiers back once again. Still, the losses were great and, in time, would take their toll on the heroes. Assessing the carnage, Dar searched for survivors to help in any way he could…a healing spell here, a prayer for the dead there.
Having just completed a prayer for a fallen warrior, he stood, seeing a body suspended on the outer wall of a building. As he neared, he realized it was a young woman, her silver hair dirty and tangled, her body held in place by a sword thrust through her mid-section and deeply embedded in the wall. He checked for a pulse. It was faint, thready. He had to act fast.
At the sight of the hilt, he froze. “This cannot be.” Recognizing it as his, he gently cupped the dirty face. “Just keep breathing.” With great effort, he pulled out the blade, dropping it so he could catch the woman in his arms. Shifting her to one side, he barked a single command, raising the sword to his hand. He placed it in its scabbard. “Hold on, young one. I will right this wrong.”
Dar jerked awake. Shaken, he closed his eyes again and conjured up the last time he had seen Etain, locating her current position. Through her eyes, he saw a man, woman, and another strange creature who could only be her spawn. “Where is this, and to whom have you run?” He watched, listening for a clue. “Hmmm, UWS.” What is his name? Inferno. That’s right. It was to you she fled when she left me.
He vanished, reappearing on a hill overlooking a grey castle framed by full autumn splendor. Something in the air gave him pause and, for a moment, he was not quite sure why he had come here.
After what I have discovered, despite the task set before me, why are you foremost in my thoughts? Is it instinct, or intuition, or something deeper?
“It is my hope to remove Midir’s taint from this world, but should I not be successful…” He drew a deep breath, gazing down on Castle Laugharne. “I leave you this.” The skies blackened, lightning flashed, and a wicked wind whirled around him. “A gift for you, sweet lady. I pray it will be enough.”
Walking into the lounge, Inferno got straight to business. “Yer new clan hasn’t done much for yer manners, girl. Ya been gone a long time with no word on yer whereabouts.”
“Love, give her a chance to sit down and catch her breath,” Spirit chastised her husband. “Why don’t you get us something to drink while she gets settled?”
He eyed his wife, then Etain. “Don’t start without me.”
“Aye, I’ll wait.” Etain took a seat on the brown leather sofa in front of a great stone fireplace. She was happy to see nothing had changed since her departure over a year ago. Back then, she decided to make a change in clans and left to join LOKI, a choice Inferno had taken as a personal affront. Her need to “spread her wings”, the excuse she used at the time, made no sense to the UWS chieftain. If she had told him her real reasons, of her plans to use LOKI for their resources and Dar’s links to the demon world to track down her family’s killer, he would have raised holy hell. Then he’d have insisted she stay put and use UWS instead. As much as she loved Inferno, Spirit and the UWS clan, their influence could not match that of LOKI’s.
Spirit sat in an easy chair, facing her. “You look good, lass, despite what he says. But I do wonder why you’ve been away for so long with no word.”
“I want you to know how much I appreciate you two.” She ran a hand through her hair. “A lot has happened.”
Spirit leaned over and patted her on the knee. “No need for that, but it’s good to hear.”
Inferno returned, three mugs filled with home brewed ale in hand, and sat down next to Etain. After a tap of mugs and a hearty “Cheers,” he took a drink, then looked at her. “Right. Tell us what’s been so important ya’ve not had a second thought for the likes of us.”
She refrained from her signature eye roll, knowing it would set him off. Instead, she enjoyed another sip, noting the mix of concern and doubt on both faces. “I was given my first assignment in the human realm.” She watched Inferno, waiting for a reaction. When none came, she continued. “Nothing too heavy. There’d been some strange happenings back home, so they sent me to check ‘em out.”
“Strange happenings, ya say?” Inferno cocked his head. “And what would be considered ‘strange’ by LOKI standards?”
“Well…” She swallowed, her heart beating a little faster. “That’s why they sent me. To see if they were truly strange, or if they could be explained.”
“And what did ya find?”
Etain tittered. “There’s where the story takes a turn.” She glanced around the room. “Where’s Faux?”
“Last I saw of her, Ruby and Felix were escortin’ her about the place. She’s not going anywhere.”
Etain took a deep breath, looking at this man who had given her so much, drawing strength from his protective gaze. “It’s a long story.” She told of the events leading up to her visit. How she had come across Freeblood and felt compelled to save his life, meaning she had to donate blood. She included her visit to Faux and her merciless attack. How Lord Darknight stepped in, saving her life, his gifts, and her pursuit of Faux. She detailed the encounter with Midir and how, once again, the High Lord had saved the day.
They listened, never interrupting, which agitated her further. Keeping his opinions to himself was not one of Inferno’s attributes. She was well aware of his opinions about Dar and his clan. He’d taken every opportunity to share his thoughts since learning of her decision to leave.
“I know a thing or two about how LOKI works. It’s the High Council what gives out the assignments.”
Etain nodded. “With the High Lord’s approval, aye.”
“Why didn’t he send ya back to your original assignment, especially knowing the bad blood between you and the girl roaming through me house?”
She shrugged. “I figured correcting my mistake took precedence.”
Inferno leaned back. “Is that how ya see it? Since when is saving a boy’s life a mistake? Darknight, just like every other chieftain, knows any goings-on in the human realm take precedence over Alamir business.” He raised a hand when Etain opened her mouth. “Once that boy turned, he became Alamir business. Ya should’ve gone back and completed yer mission.”
He possessed an innate ability of making her feel like a child. “It wasn’t the saving of his life. It was the blood. Dar, er…Lord Darknight had forbidden the sharing of it. I guess I now know why. I did the deed, so it was my responsibility-”
His eyebrows shot up. “On a first name basis, are we?”
The man knew how to push her buttons. Nothing with Inferno was ever easy when it came to one of his own. Never mind the implications of what her sharing the bl
ood meant to this boy, or how it had forever changed his life…and hers. Etain rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair. “Inferno…”
“It’s his soddin’ blood, isn’t it?” He pushed out of his chair. “Makes no sense to me. Makes the rules and breaks ‘em when it suits. That’s a bloody Krymerian for ya.” He paced to the window, staring out, muttering to himself.
Etain sent Spirit a silent plea. She answered with a shake of her head and a shrug.
Inferno stormed back, standing in front of Etain. “Tell me it’s at least knocked some sense into ya and yer coming home. That lot doesn’t deserve ya and neither does the blackguard who leads ‘em.”
“That’s the thing. With Freeblood on the loose, Faux’ll definitely keep tracking him, which will end badly for her. He’s on his own, but I can’t leave her unprotected.”
Spirit stood next to her husband. “Leave? Are you going back to the human realm?”
“No. I have to go back to LOKI-”
A disgusted snort from Inferno made her stop. He looked at his wife. “She’s lost her soddin’ mind! Going back to the wanker what put her in this bleedin’ position.” He turned on Etain. “Ya don’t need him, or his bloody clan, or that silly girl with the tail. I know what yer after. We’ll do what needs doing.”
“Inferno, they’re one of the oldest clans. They have connections everywhere.”
“Doesn’t mean they’re the ones ya need. We have resources. We’ll find the bastard who murdered yer family.”
Spirit placed a hand on his arm. “Please, love. We’ll get it sorted. Why don’t you get us a refill, give us all a chance to calm down?”
He grabbed each of their mugs. “As long as that son of a bitch is in the picture, there’ll be no calm.” He glared at Etain. “Be right back.”
Spirit waited until he was gone, then sat next to her. “What’s on your mind, lass?”