What are gods worth if you’ve got allies who would lay down their own head in exchange for yours?
Fend spat on the ground.
Evo’Mael’s shocked expression turned to cold humor. “Well, let’s go and see what the gods have to say about our defiance.” The mirror cut off.
“Wrole!” Fend barked, turning from his mirror, and headed out of his private apartments.
“Lord?” Wrole opened the doors just as Fend was storming out of them.
“Seal the lower passages. We fight the creatures of Earth and Dark. Pull our people back to our fortresses,” Fend said, his voice clipped and without waste. He had an empire to rouse. Few knew the true strength of the Mithsia Dwarves, hidden from wandering eyes and flapping lips.
Adrenaline flooded Fend’s system, making the hairs on his back and arms stand on end. He knew that bloody times were ahead.
They dare to harm my people, to break our oaths. Gods or not, the Mithsia Dwarves pay their debts in iron—whether through your heart or in your coffers.
He walked through his ancestral home, the walls carved with exquisite art depicting the growth of Mithsia. From here the first images were made, the first claims. The art ran from his home through the homes lying under the mountain. Every wall, every home told the story of the growth of the Mithsia Dwarves.
Today, a new mural would be created. The day that the gods broke their oaths.
Fend walked out of his home and to a grand balcony that looked over the entrance into Mithsia Mountain, that looked at the thousands of homes that grew from the mountain, organized and precise. Every home was a work of art, every pathway a display of Dwarven workmanship.
The lord of the mountain did not cower behind his people. He stood at the entrance to the mountain. He would first fall before letting any attack his people.
It was not only symbolic but a promise.
Fend looked to a dwarf who stood at the balcony, telling of news to those who were entering the mountain.
“Call our people,” Fend said.
The announcer nodded. He was Elven born but trusted by the Dwarves, one of the few forest folk who lived within the mountain.
Fend looked over the balcony. To the front, there was a standing platform that the announcer used; to the left, there was a gong. To the right, there was a large tube that seemed to disappear back into the wall.
The announcer hit the gong three times. The people who had been walking into Mithsia looked up to see Fend on the balcony. He stepped up, seeing their faces and knowing what his words would bring. His hands rested where others had rested their hands to announce marriages, births, victories, deaths, losses, and all. His greatest ancestors had stood here and today he did as well.
He took the cover from the pipe to his side.
“Today I come to you all with grave news. As you know, the Dark Lord has shown his citadel to us. Boran-al’s cultists grow in strength, as the prison around their citadel weakens. In this time of disarray, the Earth Lord has supported his actions. They have broken all oaths with us by attacking the alliance of Kufo’tel and Mithsia. Today, we are at war. Not with a nation or a group, but the lords of Affinities themselves.
“They think that we are nothing but tools, a source of power to drain as they see fit. We will show them the truth of our strength. We will show them the power of the Kufo’tel and Mithsia. We stand as brothers and sisters. An oath was made and an oath was broken, and a debt is to be paid. We will have our vengeance. Raise the defenses in the depths; check your shields, and sharpen your blades. The Mithsia warclans will rise and we will challenge those who wish to use our oaths to wipe their asses!” Fend looked to his people, his voice growing in depth and power as he spit in anger.
The silence seemed to last for a few moments.
Then Fend got his answer.
Dwarves, Elves, and a spattering of Humans roared their defiance at the gods. That day, Mithsia shook not from gods or their creations. It shook with the united voices of those who stood with their lord. Their only lord, the lord under the Mithsia Mountains.
Chapter 6: Fools
Fire felt power starting to pour off a region to the north, on the Opheir continent.
With barely a thought, Denur turned. Enhanced by her magic, the great creature arrived within hours.
Fire’s power only grew. Her eyes widened at what she was seeing.
The Mithsia Dwarves were a powerful group. They had grown strong defeating the natural enemies of the area without support from the travelers through the years. They had made a binding alliance with the Kufo’tel Elves. They had made covenants and oaths with the Dark and Earth Affinities, giving them power so that the lords might look down on them with benevolence.
What she saw now was warbands moving in formation out of the mountain; defenses that had been hidden for centuries sprung from the ground. Massive defenses grew, the mountain quickly becoming impenetrable.
Forges raged within the mountain as armor was repaired and weapons were given a fresh blade. It was not the only source of power that she felt. She felt older Fire magic, Fire magic that she had not felt in centuries, now burn with fresh power, with fresh devotions.
Out in the forest, away from prying eyes, five disciples of righteous Fire called forth the power that they had caged and hidden within themselves.
She dropped from Denur’s side. The ground howled at her as she laughed; it was a deep and rich thing.
For too long, the lords and ladies had pushed the People of Emerilia. Here, the Kufo’tel and Mithsia stood together.
She directed power toward the ground; twin burning lances lowered her through the forest, between the apostles who prayed for her.
Four of them recoiled in shock and fear. They might be hundreds of years old, but seeing a god in the flesh was something else.
One just created a flaming shield, smiling at her.
Still as handsome as ever, my Mal.
She crossed her arms as debris continued to rain down. Her hair danced playfully in the breeze.
“You don’t write, you don’t visit. You know, it’s enough to make a girl think you don’t like her anymore.” An amused smile passed over her face.
“My fiery one.” He gave her an arrogant, sweeping bow.
She quickly crossed the distance between them. “Got to do better than that.” Her voice was low as a wall of fire erupted around them. She jumped, drinking in his face, the way it danced whenever she’d seen him. It reminded her of the long centuries since they had last met.
He caught her, his robe hiding the muscled man beneath. Her red lips crushed against his. Regrets and nerves—they melted away as he hungrily returned the kiss. He pulled back and looked at her. “It has been too long, my fire.”
“Shut up,” she said softly, drinking in the moment as she held him. Emotions she thought long gone passed through her.
She might be the Lady of Fire, but she was a wanderer. One time, very long ago, she had wandered into an Elven encampment, to meet a young ranger.
They’d adventured and ranged together. Her heart sang when she was with the man. Too late, she realized what had happened, as she had lain with the Elf. She had fallen in love—with a mortal.
“She is almost here,” Mal said into Fire’s ear.
Fear—the kind that not even the other lords and ladies could conjure in her—struck her to her core. She tried to push away.
Mal’s eyes stopped her. He might be a mortal, but he held a power over her that none could.
“You will tell her, Ignil.” His will was resolute.
“I was weak and young.” Fire looked away from the man she loved.
“You are still.” He chuckled.
“Older than you!” She swatted at him, pouting.
The fires died around them and Ignil sensed something that made her look into the forest.
Emotions rolled around in her stomach as she looked at a haggard-looking Elf who had run for days.
“Report to
our lord. This is Ignil, another one of Fire’s agents. We have a need of privacy,” Mal said.
The Elves bowed their heads in deep respect and took off, belying their age.
“Father, what are you doing out here? I thought that you would be in the keep?” The haggard-looking Elf almost collapsed into her father’s embrace.
“Young one, you mustn’t push yourself so hard,” Mal said.
“The lords of Earth and Dark are working together. I heard a sprite say so,” the younger Elf said, using her father to support her weight.
Fire would have been interested in the information but the young Elf took all of her attention.
“I’m sorry. I…uhh.” The girl bowed to Fire. “I am Ouluv’Deia. I am sorry for my sudden appearance.”
“We need not hide our family name anymore,” Mal said. “This is Ignil.”
Fire looked at Deia. Her brown hair that flashed red if she moved too fast, her green eyes with flecks of brown. More than that, she felt the suppressed Affinity for Fire.
Deia looked to Mal and then Ignil.
“It is good to meet you miss Ignil,” Deia said.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Ignil said, her eyes sad as she forced a smile.
Deia gave Mal a questioning look.
“It is safe.” Mal smiled.
Deia closed her eyes, saying a small chant. Deia opened her eyes. Her eyes were no longer green but a deep chestnut brown that flashed red in certain light.
A sad smile passed across Ignil’s face: over what she had lost, what she had given away.
My daughter.
She looked to Mal.
Our daughter. She wanted to grab Deia and hold her tight, to never let her go—to hold Mal’s hand and escape it all.
Still, the pressures that stopped her from staying with Deia and Mal all those years ago kept her from doing anything more than smiling, the edges of her lips quivering.
She was Fire, dammit! Proud, boisterous, and with a quick remark. Here and now, she just wanted to leave it all alone, to feel safe and free from it.
*Induca,* a soothing voice said from the heavens, calming Fire’s raging heart and emotions.
Her fears slowed but didn’t disappear.
*Are you sure?*
*She and her brother Malsour are already on their way. It will be her decision, yet she wishes to meet your youngling born of Elf and Fire.*
*Why does Malsour come?*
*You do not feel it? Change comes and power. Power not seen since our first incarnation. Malsour comes to cause chaos as he always does.*
Fire’s smile firmed as she looked at the beauty that her daughter had become. The faint tan and eyes from her, complimented with the high cheekbones and standing of her father.
“You are a rare beauty, my child,” Ignil said. “Hide your power no more. It is a part of you; do not deny its presence.”
Ignil touched her daughter’s shoulder. She looked to Mal, her eyes getting itchy as she used magic to evaporate the water before it escaped.
“I will take my leave.” Fire bowed to Mal.
He pulled her hand and brought her to his chest.
“You will, and soon,” he said, his eyes soft but determined and a sad smile on his face. She saw the pain that she had put on him, the love of this great Elf.
He stole a kiss from her and came away smiling.
She laughed; it was a rich and powerful thing. “You always were such a flirt.”
“I was the flirt? You’re the one who prefers tight red leathers,” he hissed.
Fire saw Deia turn red at her father’s words.
Fire laughed richly and pushed away. “Very well, Oson’Mal. We shall see each other soon. And Deia, I hope next time we can talk. We have much to discuss.”
Deia bowed as Mal held her eyes.
“Till then, my love,” he said.
A smile that she had not allowed herself to dare reveal to any others or hope to feel on her face again lit up her face.
She didn’t miss the jerk as Deia looked up at her father and then Fire.
Fire poured power into her hands, speeding off into the sky, where Denur swooped to pick her up. She had tears of happiness and a smile on her face.
***
“Dad?” Deia looked at her father. The way his eyes shone and the smile on his face. She hadn’t seen him that happy in too long.
“Come, Mithsia and Kufo’tel now fight those who wish to bring darkness and pain to our land. As much as I like seeing my daughter, I know that you are needed in Cliff-Hill. Now what of this boy Dave?” Mal put his arm around her.
“Who was that?” Deia asked, not to be swayed, even with her red cheeks.
“That, my dear daughter, was my fire,” Mal said.
Deia looked at the trail that had disappeared into the heavens. Something swooped down and caught her. All thoughts fled her at the sight.
“Seems Denur, the old girl, is still around making younglings drop their jaws.” Mal laughed.
“Denur? The queen of dragons?” Deia asked as the massive creature pumped its wings and took off at great speed.
Mal’s eyes sparkled.
Deia was filled with questions. “How do I already know that you won’t tell me the answers to many of my questions?” Deia sighed.
“Because you know me too well, sunshine.” Mal pulled her close and hugged her as they walked back to the town.
Deia looked back to the sky. To the woman who had turned her dad into a smiling and grinning teenager, had kissed him and broken him out of his official veil.
Her eyes went wide. Those eyes, that hair, the dusky tan and smaller ears and stature…
“Is she…?” Deia asked.
“Later, my girl—later. Now, let us get back to town. Its time we talked about this Dave of yours,” Mal said.
“He’s not mine,” Deia shot back. A part of her winced at her own words.
A glint entered her father’s eye as a smile grew across his face. “Yet?” Mal asked.
Deia blushed at the thought of how she’d woken him up, leaving little left to her imagination. Her blush deepened, thinking of the powerful arms, his chest with its dark hair, and his powerful stomach.
Mal laughed, making Deia smile.
They might have just risen up in opposition of the Pantheon of Affinities. Life still continued on as they had remembered the oaths that the Pantheon had broken before. Safeguards had been put in place to never let those events happen again.
Those skilled in Earth magics were openly paraded by the Elves. In secret, they raised the most powerful Fire mages, hiding their true strength served to make others make the wrong assumptions.
“I have missed you, sunshine.” Mal squeezed his daughter once more.
“And I you.” Deia hugged her father back.
“Good, as I will be coming with you to deal with this Dark Citadel.”
Deia opened her mouth to complain.
“Our lord has willed it. I may have been behind the suggestion but he has agreed. The citadel must fall, else our enemies will get powerful serfs to do their bidding.”
“Well, it will be good to see the grand Oson’Mal once again,” Deia said.
“I am more interested in your own skills. You have held back every time. But now you can truly release the cleansing fire within you,” Mal said.
“I look forward to it.” Deia’s voice darkened. These gods, those who proclaimed themselves to be the Pantheon of Affinities, would have killed her father if it was not for his powers and their planning.
No one screws with my dad. She didn’t see the way her eyes glowed red with the thought, or the way Mal’s smile widened a bit as his gaze returned to the sky.
As things ended, others began.
Chapter 7: Teach Me
Dave toiled away at the smithy all day and well into the night. Energy seemed to swell and rush through him, powering him and driving him.
He now had purpose: defend his home and spit in the eyes of tho
se who would dare to harm it.
With Rock Breakers, he had been the same way. He had done everything in his power to attain the final goal of bringing an asteroid down to Earth. He’d done it but the fallout had been immense.
There were two options in his mind. Either he stood with the People of Mithsia and Kufo’tel or he ran away from it all.
He couldn’t and he wouldn’t leave them behind. They had helped to turn him into the halfling he was today. They had taught him the ways of weapons, how to build, and how to laugh. They had given him escape from the depression, the loss that had taken over his life as Austin Zane.
He was David Grahslagg, a halfling with memories of an engineer, the skills of a Mithsia shield bearer, a Kufo’tel ranger, a smithy apprentice of Kol, and the fledgling magician under Bob.
He had only just started to learn. He had so much more to know, to understand.
Dave walked to his porch that was set back from the cliffs that surrounded the outpost.
Bob was waiting for him.
“The hell is going on up there?” Dave sat on his chair. A dark beer appeared in his hand. He rubbed his face and sighed.
“The same thing that’s been happening for centuries. Short-minded gods trying to get a one-up on the others who are all in balance yet they think they can tip it.” A drink appeared on Bob’s recliner. “Cheers.” Bob waved the drink at Dave and took a deep gulp of the whiskey, letting out a sigh.
For a few minutes, they just sat there, minds in other places.
“Are we strong enough to fight Boran-al’s cultists?” Dave asked.
“I don’t know,” Bob said.
“I thought you were the all-knowing go-to guy?” Dave said.
“I was. Then the empire thought that it would be more interesting if they limited my power, see what I did. I stayed neutral—a touch here, a word there, keeping empires upright and toppling conspiracies that would have unbalanced Emerilia. It’s surprising how much you can do with simple letters and words in the right ears.”
The Trapped Mind Project (Emerilia Book 1) Page 28