by A L Hardy
Lewk jumped back toward his comrade as Xardan charged forward to renew his assault. The familiar bright light flashed as Lewk grabbed Justyn’s cloak and both were gone. Xardan turned back to Ilays; the pair looked at each other with equal frustration.
“Let’s go help Jurod!” Ilays exclaimed.
*
Jurod and Nikolas didn’t take long leaving the village, only stopping at the keeper long enough to retrieve Jurod’s sword and knives. It was early afternoon when it happened.
They were riding at a full gallop when a bright light flashed ahead of them, leaving Justyn and Lewk in its wake. As they quickly reined in, two throwing knives seemed to appear out of nowhere and head directly toward Lewk and Justyn. They were halted in their tracks as they struck solid air conjured by Lewk.
Jurod’s sword flashed from its scabbard and he felt Nikolas Focus as Lewk handed an eerie black and green sword to Justyn and conjured another of his own.
“You know Jurod, it’s quite sad that you still resort to your old simplistic tricks for combat. You’re going to have to learn something new one of these days if you hope to survive. And that will only happen if I choose it for you at this point,” Lewk chided.
Jurod noticed as he and Nikolas dismounted from the skittish horses that Justyn’s sword arm was wounded and he was forced to hold the dark blade in his other hand.
“Why Lewk?” Jurod asked.
“My father told me to.” Lewk answered, without offering further explanation.
“You haven’t seen your father since he delivered you to the monastery when you were a boy.” Jurod said, “How can you betray me like this for a man you haven’t seen your entire life!?”
“I may not have seen my father, Jurod,” Lewk replied, “But when he left me at the monastery he gave me a magic orb that allowed me to communicate with him every night. He encouraged me every night through my training and celebrated with me at all of my major accomplishments while you slept soundly, ignorant of my successes and failures! It wasn’t until my apprenticeship was almost complete that he asked me to find and steal the spell book.”
“Speaking of which,” Justyn angrily interrupted, “We need it back now; so don’t make this difficult. Return it to me and you two will be free to live the rest of your lives in peace!”
“Never!” Jurod spat.
“Then I’ll kill you and take the book from your corpse!” Justyn finished.
Justyn and Lewk moved forward together and Jurod threw a Drashyre ball at each of them. Justyn quickly spun away from the Drashyre ball and rushed at Nikolas while Lewk attempted to cast an air shield that Jurod’s Drashyre burnt straight through. Lewk dove away from the renegade fireball just before it hit him and found Jurod’s blade lunging straight for him.
“Where did you learn magic!?” Lewk exclaimed as he quickly parried Jurod’s lunge with his black and green blade, “I thought you were the world’s only Lythrain that couldn’t Focus!”
Jurod spun a tight defensive web as Lewk began a series of attacks that was much slower than Jurod remembered from their youthful sparring.
“Not only have I learned to Focus and cast magic, but I’ve also learned that my father was a Knight!” Jurod explained as licks of Drashyre flame caressed his blade as it swung, “And I have his gift!”
“It’s a pity that your life should end here then!” Lewk said.
Jurod and Lewk fought in silence while Lewk’s attacks were universally thwarted by Jurod’s sword and Drashyre shields.
“Tell me,” Lewk called to Jurod, baiting him into an emotional rage, “Who was the pretty Lythrain in Emmil’s Watch?”
Jurod paused momentarily and felt the tip of Lewk’s blade rip up his forearm from his wrist to his elbow. Jurod fell to his knees and screamed in pain as the demonic blade unleashed its power, causing Jurod’s entire right arm to fall limp.
Lewk stepped back with snide confidence as he continued, “she was a good fighter, and a powerful mage; but not good enough. She screamed like that too when my blade pierced her heart! She was fun to kill!”
Childhood memories of years spent playing in the monastery with Lewk collided with the memories of traveling across Strolm with Ilays. Lewk released his sword and cast all his power into a Shield. Jurod’s left arm flung forward emitting thick, hot Drashyre that rushed toward Lewk. Jurod’s Drashyre burnt through Lewk’s Shield without slowing and pushed on effortlessly. Jurod’s memories with Lewk burnt away in the Drashyre as Jurod wept over losing Ilays.
When Jurod stopped casting the Drashyre, the sun was nearly set. There was nothing left of Lewk but ashes that had long since blown away in the wind. Jurod rose from where he had fallen and stumbled back to the horses. Nikolas was lying dead on the ground and his horse with the saddlebags that contained the spell book was gone.
With his arm still bleeding, Jurod remounted his horse and turned south after Justyn’s tracks. Vengeance was the only thought on his mind.
Chapter 9
Proud of their Kin for defeating the Fey, the Great Dragons granted Seals to the elite among the Kin - giving them each magical proficiency in a skill to be passed down to their posterity and marking them forever as leaders among the Kin.
*
Xardan led his warhorse off the ferry and into the busy town of Riverguard with Ilays right behind. Her hair was dark and long, pulled back away from her face and falling down to the small of her back. Her ears were rounded and her facial features were Changed to not betray her Lythrain parentage.
The pair mounted and let the crowd steer their horses down the main road; several minutes of silence passed as Xardan looked over the heads of the crowd before Ilays spoke.
“How do you expect to find Jurod?” she asked.
“I don’t.” Xardan replied, “I expect to find Justyn, I expect you to find Jurod.”
Xardan reached into his purse and handed Ilays a gold drop.
“I had a pair of drops enchanted years ago so that the bearers of each drop could find each other. The farther the drops get from each other, the stronger the draw that they create. Do whatever you must to find Jurod, then follow the drop's pull until we meet again."
Without waiting for a response, Xardan spurred his horse into a gap in the crowd and disappeared into a small, dark alley.
Ilays immediately began to feel the drop’s draw toward its counterpart and turned her horse in the opposite direction. She wove easily through the crowd to an herbalist’s shop that she frequented whenever she found herself stranded in Riverguard.
Ilays dismounted and tied her horse off at the railing before retrieving her blades from her saddle and tying them around her waist. She climbed the two familiar steps up to the door and entered the small, dark room. Pots of plants covered every wall and shelf in the room and left a dank, foul and somehow comforting aroma.
A stooped, robed figure limped out of the back room leaning heavily on a knotted wood cane.
“Welcome back, Ilays Lythrain-kind.” The robed figure greeted.
“Quietly Vilitha! You know that title can get me killed here.” Ilays replied.
“And you know, Ilays,” Vilitha answered, “That I am too careful to endanger my guests. What brings you back to my door, young one?”
Ilays rolled her eyes in exasperation at the old Kin before she responded, “I need to Scry a companion of mine, and I’d not like the Dragon Lords to know that I’ve Focused.”
“I see,” Vilitha contemplated, “and do you have something of his that I can use to find him?”
Ilays slowly shook her head, as she explained, “Unfortunately not but he shouldn’t be difficult to find anyway; he’s a half-Lythrain, and a Knight.”
“Ah...” Vilitha muttered, “That shouldn’t be hard at all.”
Ilays felt Vilitha Focus through her cane as the pair turned to a cauldron of boiling water. Vilitha’s hand waved over the pot and the water immediately cooled leaving a serene, clear surface. The old herbalist wove the Scrying spell and
clouded images began to flash across the surface of the water. Multiple faces of half breeds and Knights formed and vanished on the water before they settled on Jurod’s visage; Ilays nodded slowly to Vilitha when she looked at her expectantly.
Vilitha’s magic twisted the image to show Jurod cloaked and hooded standing on the side of a busy street. He wore a determined look as he moved into the street and ducked and wove through the crowd; just ahead in the thick of the crowd, Ilays saw the flash of a Faelhart uniform.
“He’s following Justyn!” Ilays exclaimed, “What road is he on?”
The image shifted on the water to show the gate on the main road leading to Learth. Jurod was pushing roughly through the crowd after Justyn, who had mounted a brown and white horse and was riding at an easy canter toward the gate and out of the city. As Justyn approached the gate however, Xardan appeared astride his tall, black warhorse in his foreboding, black armor. The crowd scattered in panic as both fighters slowly drew their swords. Jurod’s left hand flashed his blade from its scabbard as he rushed to Xardan’s aid, but half of a dozen guards wearing the Dragon Lords’ tabards moved to intercept him.
Without caring for the consequences, Ilays Focused and cast a Traveling spell to carry her to Jurod and Xardan.
*
Jurod had ridden his horse until it dropped following Justyn across the plains of Strolm to Riverguard. The wound on his arm had started healing, but had grown red and painful in the most recent days as he hunted Justyn in Riverguard.
Jurod was on the main road to Learth now. Countless merchant wagons crowded the road as Jurod followed the flashes of maroon and black of Justyn’s ever-present uniform.
Jurod fingered his sword on his right hip awkwardly as his thoughts drifted back to Ilays and the betrayer that had murdered her. He would not feel that she had been properly avenged until Justyn had been killed and the spell book taken back to Illyria for Xardan. Jurod wondered absently if Xardan had been killed as well, or if he had abandoned Ilays to her fate.
Screams and shouts toward the gate brought Jurod’s attention back to the road. Justyn had mounted a small white and brown horse and had drawn his blade. Farther down the road, Xardan sat atop his tall, black warhorse with his blade shining in the sunlight.
Anger built within Jurod that Justyn had mounted without his noticing, but that anger was dwarfed in comparison to the rage that built as he saw Xardan alive. He should have died protecting Ilays! Jurod thought, if she had to die, he should have too.
Xardan and Justyn both spurred their horses toward each other, blades lowering like short lances. Jurod awkwardly pulled his sword with his left hand and started to move forward, but six guards wearing a black rampant dragon on blood red tabards moved to stop him.
The street had transformed quickly from a busy marketplace to a battleground. Jurod dropped into a defensive stance and summoned a ball of Drashyre over his throbbing right hand. The six approaching guards hesitated as the flame ignited over his palm, but continued forward on their sergeant’s example.
Jurod pushed the Drashyre ball forward, following it immediately with a second so that each ball ignited against the nearest guards. Jurod swung his blade in an awkward parry against a guard’s attack and lunged immediately into a gap in the soldier’s defenses. His blade sunk between the soldier’s ribs and stuck in the corpse.
Jurod spun and ducked under the next soldier’s attack, moving unhappily farther from the corpse that still held his blade. Three soldiers now stood between Jurod and Justyn, though thankfully Xardan had stopped the soldier’s escape.
Xardan and Justyn’s swords clashed loudly in the air of the nearly empty street as each duelist masterfully turned his horse around to gain advantage over his opponent.
Jurod and the soldiers looked back toward the street at the unexpected, clear ringing of swords. As the four fighters were distracted, a brown haired woman ran out of a small alley and jumped between Jurod and his oppressors.
She was roughly the same build as Ilays with long, brown hair and rounded, Kin ears. She wore the dark purple leathers that Jurod had become so familiar with while wielding Ilays’s twin blades with enough skill to fight two of the soldiers at once.
Rage turned into a fresh wave of grief when Jurod recognized the leathers and swords. Why?! Jurod mourned, Xardan wasted no time finding a new companion! Even to giving away Ilays’s weapons!
Grief gave birth to Jurod’s vengeful Drashyre that surged from his fingertips to engulf the last soldier. Jurod ran past the flaming guard and charged screaming at Justyn and Xardan.
Balls of Drashyre leapt forward from the enraged, grieving half-Lythrain without regard for hitting the Knight or the soldier. Xardan’s reaction was swift and complete, extinguishing every Drashyre ball before they could land and trapping Jurod in a cage of Shadow.
Without the emotional half-breed, Xardan was able to concentrate fully on Justyn again. He had grown tired of the game of cat-and-mouse across Strolm and had resolved to end it immediately. Ultimately, it was their horses that decided the duel. Both fighters controlled their mounts and weapons with masterful grace, but Xardan’s mount was a trained warhorse of multiple battles while Justyn’s stolen beast had spent its life pulling carts from farm to market.
Justyn’s farm horse shied away from the bites and kicks of Xardan’s warhorse until Xardan had backed Justyn against the wall of a shop. Justyn’s blade flashed through the solder’s entire arsenal of blocks and parries until the old farm horse finally spooked and threw the soldier from the saddle. Xardan’s trained warhorse wasted no time responding to Xardan’s pull on the reins; leaving the farm horse to run down the street, Xardan’s horse charged forward to trample Justyn.
The street fell into an eerie quiet. Slashed, burnt, and trampled corpses lay strewn about where Xardan, Jurod, and the brown haired woman had slain their opponents. The brown haired woman wiped Ilays’s swords on a fallen guard’s cloak and sheathed the weapons. She moved with a grace that reminded Jurod of Ilays, yet screamed to him of the Kin-like differences between the two women as she calmly approached his Shadow cage.
Xardan took a moment to rein in and calm his horse before dismounting and stooping to search Justyn’s bags. Jurod felt the brown haired woman Focus and open the Shadow cage with a spell of Patience and Pity. Without a word she gently took Jurod’s right arm in both of hers and cast Compassion and Concern around the throbbing wound.
“What happened?” she asked.
Jurod noticed in two fast words that her voice lacked Ilays’s ringing accent.
“I took a hit from a magical blade.” Jurod explained.
The brown haired woman’s spell shifted to a simple braid of Frustration that made Jurod’s entire arm burn with searing pain before it changed to a complex weave of Patience, Remorse, and Compassion that brought cool, soothing relief. Jurod watched in amazement as creamy, white ooze seeped out of his arm and the long cut stitched itself back together.
The brown haired woman ripped a corner off a fallen guard’s cloak and wiped the white puss off Jurod’s arm.
“It might not be as strong as before for a few days, but at least it’s not a festering infection either.” She explained.
“Thank you.” Jurod muttered, still fighting complex emotions of grief, rage and anger.
Xardan walked over to the pair with Laglan’s spell book under his arm.
“You were reckless and stupid to say the least, Jurod!” Xardan roared, “What under Faelhart’s Justice inspired you to attack Justyn so wildly as to risk hitting me too?”
“You have no respect for the dead!” Jurod countered, “Ilays hasn’t even been dead a week and already you’ve found a new companion and gave away her weapons and armor!”
“What on Khesyc are you talking about!?” Xardan scoffed.
“Who told you I was dead!?” the brown haired woman laughed.
Confusion stole Jurod’s sorrow and anger as the air around the brown haired woman shifted and her appea
rance changed returning her elven features and silver hair.
“Lewk…” Jurod answered hesitantly, “Just before he cut my arm with that demonic blade of his.”
“Mental warfare,” Xardan announced smartly, “He was trying to distract you so that you wouldn’t fight as well.”
For the first time in days, Jurod managed to smile in spite of himself. “It worked,” he stated, “To an extent. At the thought of losing you, I cast Drashyre straight through his Shielding spells. I hadn’t realized how powerful it could be. All that was left of him was a few ashes.”
“What about Nikolas?” Xardan asked.
“Justyn killed him.” Jurod stated.
It was only in that moment that he realized he had lost his old mentor and the man that came closest to being Jurod’s father. The grief that he had felt over Ilays returned in force, but over Nikolas instead. He stood there speechless as he tried to deal with the feelings that had come upon him.
Setting a hand on his shoulder, Xardan began to speak, “In my experience, it’s best to have a mission to help deal with grief and remorse. It’s not the proper way and you’ll eventually have to deal with it, but it’s the best thing to do during the hard times. We have the spell book, and now have to take it…”
“Back to Strolm,” Xardan announced as Ilays confidently stated, “Into Reth.”
The three companions all stood on the street of Riverguard surrounded by corpses with very little idea where to go next.
“We could go back to Emmil’s Watch?” Jurod suggested.
“The healer’s would welcome you back Jurod, but not us. Not after our violent departure.” Ilays replied.
“We have to leave here quickly though.” Xardan finished, “The Dragon Lords that control Riverguard are neither allies of Reth or Faelhart. Since Ilays has dropped her Illusion they will arrest her on sight. Let’s head back to my manor in Strolm, there we can finally get some much needed rest and decide what to do. Agreed?”
Both Jurod and Ilays nodded as they turned back toward the river and the ferry lines; as they did so they were approached by a Squadron of soldiers, nearly fifty in number, and all with their weapons drawn.