Chains of Mist

by T. C. Metivier

  The Captain nodded without hesitation or question. He gestured to the Florca Blood Legion Sergeant, and she too nodded. Holstering her weapon, she went to Roger, guiding him towards the entrance from which they had come. Roger allowed himself to be led away without resistance. Talan, leaning heavily on the Blood Legion Captain, followed after them. But when he came to the opening he paused, one last time. He remembered the enemy’s final words, and a smile quirked his lips. Doomed to fail? I think not. Prophecy works in surprising ways—arrogant is the one who thinks that he can control it. Ignorant is the one who thinks that he can circumvent it. The Scions are both still alive…and you call that a failure?

  This battle is not over. Fate has more planned for Roger Warbanks and Justin Varenn. Far, far more.

  * * * *

  The lightning seared towards him. Austin leapt backwards with a cry of pain and anger, barely avoiding the attack—but then he realized that it wasn’t an attack, and that he wasn’t the target. The lightning struck Justin, and his body convulsed. Then he vanished in a flare of light, leaving behind only an acrid smell and the ghostly echo of screaming.

  For a moment, Austin could only stare in disbelief. His mind, already worn near to breaking, could not comprehend what he had just seen. One moment, Justin was there—the next, he was gone. Gone somewhere that Austin did not know and could not guess.

  And could not follow.

  Silence followed. In the corner of his eye, Austin saw the old man rise to his feet. The other strangers and the Admiral stood motionless, staring at the spot where Rokan Sellas had stood mere moments ago. Their attention was focused on their enemy, but Austin didn’t care about that. Rokan Sellas was a mere afterthought to him. He saw only the now-empty dais of bone where his friend had been chained.

  No! This can’t be happening—this can’t be happening!

  Justin…

  Austin sank to his knees, tears coming to his eyes. He heard a cry of anguish ringing in his ears and realized that it was his own. Clenching his fists, he began to pound against the stone, as if doing so would allow him to turn back time itself. He felt pain and saw blood run from his knuckles, splattering to the ground to mix with his tears.

  Time passed—how much, Austin neither knew nor cared. It was Katrina who finally broke him from his trance, frantically shaking his shoulder and calling out his name. He turned to her, and when she saw his blood-stained hands she began to cry. At her tears, Austin felt his anger vanish, extinguished as swiftly and surely as if by a raging river. He reached for her, and she collapsed into his arms. “There, there,” he said softly. “It’s all right…everything’s going to be all right.”

  Austin wasn’t sure that he believed himself…but he wasn’t the one who needed to believe. He needed be strong for her, for this strange girl who had lost so much more than he had, who had already shown courage and fortitude beyond her years. Austin held Katrina for a while, the two of them taking comfort from each other. When her crying stopped, he released his embrace, crouching so that his face was level with hers. “Let’s get out of here, all right?” he said. “I’ll take you somewhere safe, I promise.”

  She looked back at him with wide, frightened eyes, her face dirty and streaked from her tears. Her lower lip wobbled. But she nodded resolutely. “Okay,” she whispered.

  Austin stood. He held out a hand, and Katrina took it. Together they walked over to where Admiral Ortega still stood. Austin touched the Admiral lightly on the shoulder. “Sir,” he said softly. “Sir, are you all right?”

  The Admiral tensed, his head jerking towards Austin. “Oh, Forgera.” He blinked, his brow furrowing as if he were trying to remember where he was. “Yeah, I’m fine. Fine…” The Admiral’s voice died away, his head drifting back towards the spot where Rokan Sellas had vanished. He seemed lost, as if in a trance, and Austin was hesitant to break him from it. Instead, he looked around the cavern, taking stock of the aftermath of the battle. The old man and his companions—whoever they had been—were gone. The massive underground chamber was silent save for the faint rush of water flowing into the subterranean pools. Now that Rokan Sellas was gone, the darkness that had shrouded him had disappeared as well, and soft light bathed over them once again. It seemed impossible that a battle had just taken place here, and only the ruptured piles of stone and the now-empty dais of bone attested to the horror and terror of what they had just witnessed.

  Austin was anxious to get away from this place. He glanced around uneasily, and finally he could take the silence no more. “I think we should go, sir,” he said in a tense whisper. “Nothing more we can do here…”

  “What?” Admiral Ortega blinked again, seeming to focus on Austin only with great difficulty. “Oh, right. Right…”

  The Admiral glanced down at the Mari’eth sword in his hands. The blade, Austin saw, had gone dark—not just dark, but blackened, as if it had been burned by passing through Rokan Sellas’s flesh. The Admiral looked at the sword for a moment, and it seemed as if he were debating leaving it here, but he re-sheathed it instead. They made their way swiftly and silently back through the tunnels, and when finally they broke out into the light they found a ship waiting for them, nestled in the blasted wasteland outside the mouth of the tunnel. The pilot, a dour-faced man in Tellarian Fleet attire, saluted the Admiral, who saluted back—apparently out of instinct, for he didn’t seem to break out of his daze. Austin wanted to ask how the pilot had known where to find them, or how he had even known to come looking for them, but he was simply too exhausted to care. Instead, he simply followed when the soldier waved them aboard, though he had to first soothe away Katrina’s understandable apprehension about boarding this giant, unfamiliar hunk of metal. This took less doing than he feared, for the girl was so tired that she could barely stand, and in the end she allowed him to simply carry her up the landing ramp. Soon after, the ship lifted off with barely a sound, and in minutes they were speeding through the black expanses of space, having left Espir no more than a faint speck behind them.

  * * * *

  Drogni Ortega was in shock. As the ship darted soundlessly through space back towards Tellaria, Espir rapidly fading into the distance and into the past, his mind was still numb from what he had just seen. A single thought raced through it over and over again, like a comet whipping closer and closer around a star.

  A single thought: the memory of the two words Rokan Sellas had gasped in that brief moment when the demonic glow had left his eyes. Two words which had, in a heartbeat, changed everything.

  “Help me…”

  * * * *

  “Please, Micaeh, make this quick.” The voice was haggard, tense. “I am swamped with paperwork and endless meetings and conferences, and my patience for trivialities is at an end.”

  “Indeed, my lord.” A slight bow accompanied the words. “I shall not take up much of your time. But I bring news…from Espir.”

  “Ah…and?”

  “Ortega and Forgera have survived and are on their way back as we speak. Makree, for reasons that are unclear to me, sacrificed himself to protect one of the other individuals that I sensed would be drawn to Espir. However, the lives and fates of those two are meaningless in the greater scheme of destiny. What is most important is this: the sundering of Justin Varenn, the temporary separation of mind from body without which he is doomed to death…it was successful.”

  The reply came back wearily. “You will understand if I do not share your enthusiasm on this matter, friend. You know that I do not—cannot—put the same faith in your visions that you do. Of more importance to me by far is that Drogni Ortega is returning home, alive, which should turn aside the media and political vultures for the time being. I will not allow you to send him away on another fool’s errand—is that clear?”

  “Perfectly, my lord. Rest assured, Drogni Ortega no longer plays any role in the machinations of fate. The mantle of destiny has passed on, to be carried by those whose hands will shape the course of the future for us all.” />
  A pause. “I notice that you use the plural, my friend.”

  “Indeed, my lord. Now that the wheels of destiny have been set into motion, the uncertainties that had clouded my visions are beginning to clear. More figures are emerging, though their faces remain shrouded to my sight. I cannot even be certain how many besides Varenn there are—alternately, I have seen as few as one and as many as five. Varenn remains the most prominent among them, and I cannot see the roles that each is destined to play…but they are out there. I shall meditate on this; hopefully, more will soon become clear to me.”

  The King pondered those words. Finally, thoughtfully: “Tell me more about the others you saw at Espir.”

  “There were eight, my lord, but of them six were mere pawns, loyal footsoldiers whose only purpose was to spend their lives in protection of the last two. One was an old man who wielded power that might exceed my own, and I could not pierce the corridors of his mind. Yet I could feel nothing of evil about him; in the battles to come, he is one of our allies. The other…I sensed the shroud of prophecy about him. It clung to him, swirling cobwebs that confounded my inner sight. This is the man whom Makree gave his life to protect. I believe that they knew each other, in another life.” The black eyes narrowed. “Yet, heed this warning, my lord. When I looked upon this man, I felt a rush of terror such as I have never felt before. I fear him more than I fear Rokan Sellas…but I do not know why. He is one that I must watch closely. I believe that the power he could wield is limitless—but for which side?”

  “Surely, if the old man is as powerful and as good as you believe, he would not travel with such a man if he believed him to be a force of evil?”

  “Ah, therein lies the problem, my lord. You see, even those people who have been woven into the tapestry of destiny retain their free will, their ability to choose their allegiances and friends. Yet with this man, it is different. He can choose nothing—his fate, his life, are no longer his own. He is an instrument, nothing more—neither a force for good nor a force for evil. Simply a force…for whoever is able to wield him.”

  A momentary shudder was the only thing that betrayed the King’s emotions. “Then watch him carefully, friend, and report back to me as you are able. There is one final matter. What happens to Varenn, now that this ‘sundering’ is complete?”

  A pause, the merest concession of doubt. “For a time, he must pass beyond my sight. The realm to which his soul has gone, even my eyes cannot penetrate, and what will happen to him there I cannot say. In the meantime, his body is in the possession of the enemy—it must be recovered, so that the ritual of sundering can be reversed.”

  “Very well. We will assemble a team—”

  “No, my lord. That would be a mistake. I do not know where the enemy will take Varenn’s body, but I am certain it will be another place of ancient power—one which no ordinary mortal can survive. Ortega and Forgera survived Espir, but that was only because the enemy decided not to kill them. It would be naïve of us to assume that he would do so again.”

  “What, then? Are you volunteering yourself?”

  A wry smile. “Hardly. The old man from Espir, I am sure, knows everything that I have just told you, and he is better suited than any of us to intervene. His power, combined with the raw potential of his companion, is far more suited to the task of recovering Varenn than any assortment of common soldiers that we might scrape together.”

  Silence. “This is one area that I would normally heed your advice unconditionally, friend. However… Given what you have told me about the man from Espir, who could just as easily be a tool of the enemy as a friend of ours, I simply do not see how I can trust the success of such an important mission to such a man. What if you are wrong about his allegiance? I do not think it would be wise to take that risk.”

  “We must, my lord.” The words were heavy with urgency and tinged with the faintest ghost of fear. “There is no other way. Anyone we send would surely be destroyed…or worse.”

  The King considered. Then: “No, it shall be as I have said. This matter is closed.”

  Dark eyes crackled with rage, but the voice was controlled. “In that case, at least grant me this one concession. Send only one person, not a team. One person has a chance, perhaps, to slip through unnoticed. A team has none.”

  “Agreed. I know just the person for the job.”

  “Please, my lord, this is a mistake. A terrible mistake—you have no idea of the risks.”

  Now anger flashed in the King’s gaze. “If so, then it is my mistake to make, Micaeh. Is that clear?”

  “It is…my lord.”

  -Epilogue-

  Existence was agony. Each breath was torn out as if wrenched by a demon’s claw, and thorns of infernal sorcery set his body and mind on fire. Consciousness was elusive, rising and relaxing, slipping and surging. His ravaged spirit, clinging to the tatters of lucidity, prayed for an end. But it never came. There was only more pain.

  It was torture beyond torture—a hell that transcended death.

  Faces floated before his sight, but he could not be sure if they were real or a conjuration of the shreds of his sanity. Through the lightning he saw flashes of light clashing against a vortex of shadow. He heard an unfamiliar voice say, “Don’t die yet,” and a man with sorrow in his emerald-green eyes turned, plunging headlong towards the confrontation.

  A friend from another life appeared, slashing a blade at the shackles of living fire, and he felt a slight pressure on his bonds. But they did not break. His friend cried out, but his words were swept away by the roaring tide of sorcery.

  A single thought manifested through the suffering. Don’t leave me, Austin. Don’t leave me…

  But Austin’s face faded away…

  Fresh pain erupted, a dagger in his soul. He heard an inhuman laugh, echoing throughout eternity…the sound of nightmares.

  All light faded, compressing towards a single point. Darkness reached for him.

  His strength gone, Justin Varenn let the darkness take him.

  END OF BOOK 2

  -Glossary of Espirian Terms-

  A’chen’has: the Great Sea; lies to the far west of Nembane Mountain

  A’Cheran: the Demon Prince

  a’di: a Kastria insult derived from ‘di’ua’; literally ‘one who is without spirit’ (plural = a’dia)

  a’kali’a: a building specifically intended for the housing of foreign visitors to a tribe; literally ‘place of outsiders’ (plural = a’kali’ata)

  A’Lai Mar: the Underworld and home of A’Cheran

  bo’al: a tall, thick grass; produces a sap that is a powerful hallucinogen and is toxic in high quantities

  bo’al’kan: one who has become addicted to bo’al sap (plural = bo’al’kana)

  bok’lava: a mythical substance harder than stone yet lighter than air; the god Ja’nal was said to have a set of detachable wings made of this material

  bortath: a canine carnivore; they are extremely stealthy and highly aggressive, and adult members can run at speeds of up to one hundred and fifty kilometers per hour (plural = bortath’ana)

  chakka: a tiny, almost mindless rodent (plural = chakkata)

  chak’rat: a Traika insult derived from ‘chakka’; literally ‘born of a chakka’s fecal matter’ (plural = chak’rata)

  dai’chak’mal: a Kastria insult derived from ‘dairang’ and ‘chakka’; literally ‘born of the union of a dairang and a chakka’ (plural = dai’chak’malata)

  dairang: a large, bovine herbivore; they have a long frontal horn and keratinous plates protecting their backs, legs, and neck (plural = dairang’ata)

  Dar’katal: the leader of the warriors; the female equivalent is ‘Dar’kata’

  Den’ja: the War Goddess; laid down a series of nine rules of combat

  di’ua: the soul; literally ‘life-essence’ (plural = di’uana)

  e’tana: a trancelike state of enhanced awareness; may be achieved naturally through meditation or artificially through inh
alation of hallucinogenic substances like bo’al sap

  fai’la’if: a term describing one who has sworn vengeance against another for a righteous purpose (plural = fai’la’ifa)

  feerak: a short, brittle tree; produces berries that serve as a powerful painkiller

  felia: a unit of time equivalent to about forty minutes (plural = feliai)

  fenail: a huge, feline carnivore with six legs and a thick ridge of bone running across its cheeks and above its eyes; they are extremely territorial and rarely attack Humans (plural = fenail’a)

  Ja’nal: the Sky God; king of the gods

  Jo’ma: the leader of the to’laka; the male equivalent is ‘Jo’mal’

  juraa: a thick, thorn-covered weed; grows by wrapping itself around the bases of trees and can form vast networks where a single organism spans several square kilometers

  Kat’aia: the Sun Goddess

  kat’ara: a ruling council generally composed of between five and fifteen elders (plural = kat’arai)

  Kil’la’ril: the local word for Nembane Mountain

  koffa: a carnivorous reptile that can reach up to a meter in length and can camouflage itself to nearly any environment; they generally avoid Humans but may attack lone individuals (plural = koffana)

  koltala: a large marine bird with a short, hooked beak; they eat mainly fish and emit a piercing supersonic scream to stun their prey (plural = koltalai)

  kopana: an interjection of amazement

  korun: a unit of distance equivalent to just under two kilometers (plural = korunna)

  ko’sha: the local term for the magical energy contained in all things, which the to’laka can absorb and then release using their own bodies as a conduit