Circle of Reign

by Jacob Cooper

  From the north they covered the land like ghosts, carrying with them powers and Influences that enslaved his people, changed them. Their skin became riddled with scars and symbols, marring their once pure visage. And their strength, though still present, was now tempered by a power of some create. Their women became barren and their men were forced to breed with slaves the conquerors had brought with them, but the men could not produce seed to create more women. Only boys were born and the women slaves that bore the Helsyan offspring perished in the effort. The male babies were born with the same marred cicatrix over their skin that their fathers bore. The Hardacheons brought these curses with them, but deep inside Rembbran knew it was his own people that had cursed themselves. The consequences of the Turning Away. The Light they had once served turned against them, limiting them by degrees that prevented their outright dominance.

  A haunting laugh surrounded him and he could watch no more. Grabbing his head between his hands he shook it from side to side, trying to dislodge the hellish vision from him.

  “No more!” The pain on his back was searing and the reddish light that shone from his one unique glyph illuminated his immediate surroundings. Darker than the light of fire, it was nonetheless visible and radiant. Near the apex of his physical capacity to deal with the acute pain, which capacity was substantial, Rembbran heard a word spoken. His name. Not in Sentharian, but in an ancient tongue that he instantly had command over. Dralghus. I am Dralghus.

  Energy and adrenaline rushed through him, supporting him against the pain, against the transfiguration taking place. The glyph at his withers burned brighter, the dark red glow increasing in intensity to a whitish yellow luminescence. Tissues and muscles were singed and fused from the heat and arteries erupted as his blood boiled, forging a new landscape within him. The pain was no longer punishing, but abstergent. Fortifying. It is my name, he realized, referring to the unique symbol on his back. A name glyph. No, more than just a name. My identity.

  When it was done, he arose. Vapors steamed all around him, the stone earth black and charred beneath him. It had fissured from the heat. He stood more firm and taller than he thought he ever had before. He felt lighter, more nimble. More lethal, if that was possible. Free. Though he labored under no Dahlrak, his body remained in its Charged state. His muscles were cut and thick, senses heightened, his drive for carnage an unquenchable thirst. He would be the Ancient Dark’s instrument in cleansing the land and reclaiming Helsya.

  “I now serve the Ancient Dark, Mother of Helsya,” he proclaimed. “The Urlenthi’s claim on me is broken. I shall now set my own Dahlraks and keep my own counsel. The Ancient Darkness is a kind master.”

  The Kerr youngling girl he now saw as an inevitability. He would not seek her at this instant, however. No, for the power of the Ancient Dark and the shackles of the Urlenthi loosed, the agony of the unfulfilled Dahlrak from a previous master held no sway. He looked internally and sought his other former master, the one that had tormented him relentlessly without release or leniency. He felt for Agony and found her squirming to conceal herself in the deep recesses of his mind, fleeing in fear.

  It was as if he were a majestic and terrible eagle tracking a field mouse running scared in a valley far below. He swooped down in his mind and caught Agony in his talons, crushing and piercing her. Breaking her. She squealed and he rejoiced at the feeling of hot blood flowing between his claws in his mind. A tight feral smile of satisfaction formed on his face. It was done and the agony inside him was dead. She was dead. A more euphoric pleasure waded through the currents of his being than he had ever before experienced. A Dahlrak’s ecstasy paled in comparison to this new height within him.

  He would still visit young Reign Kerr as he thought it only appropriate after such unrelenting torture that she had caused him over the past six years. Besides, it would be fun, if nothing else. But first, Dralghus thought it best to visit the Kail and the holder of the Stone of Orlack to pay his final homage. He would not lose the girl again, not while enraptured by the Dark Mother. She would guide him.

  As he retreated eastward through the stone forest, toward the Kail and Iskele, he felt his brethren at the northern and middle fronts, miles and leagues south of him. He could feel them, know them; such awareness Noxmyra had blessed him with! They had torn through thousands of Arlethians and Senthary alike, shredding them with steel and hand as they worked toward their penultimate Dahlrak. Their sight alone had broken men’s spirits before their bodies were rent asunder.

  Now, Therrium having met his end, they stood deflated, Chargeless, retreating back to their respective camps. It had been his right, however, to have Therrium unto himself, to feast upon the last Charge that would ever be given him or any Helsyan by a lesser master.

  But something was amiss. Not all were accounted for. Only thirteen, not including himself, did he feel in the Dark.

  Where are the three in the south?

  Gone. They were dead. It was impossible enough to believe Maynard had been defeated, but three others as well? He sorrowed that they would not be able to witness the Rising.

  The Resurgence, he heard Noxmyra whisper to him. Free them, free them all.

  He would free them, his thirteen remaining brethren. They would be his, called to this work of dark glory.

  And then, Dralghus swore, Helsya shall rise again.

  THE END OF PART 2

  PART 3

  TEMPEST

  The blood has dried on my hands. I have forgotten whose it is, but it doesn’t matter; our well of dreams has run dry.

  —Pelnith, an Orsarian Dark Marauder, just before succumbing to his wounds on Pearl Island

  A leader must put himself in front of his people when danger comes close, not hide behind those loyal to him; a leader must protect his people, not seek refuge from them; a leader understands that his life is not as important as those he serves.

  —Lord Branton Kerr to his son, Thannuel, when retiring as Lord of the Western Province

  FORTY-TWO

  Aiden

  Day 2 of 2nd Dimming 412 A.U.

  WITH INHUMAN SPEED AND AGILITY, Aiden and Hedron took a wide course around the Borathein horde, easily outdistancing them as they traveled south through the Gonfrey Forest, away from Jayden’s cottage. Their route was indirect, costing them precious time, but was necessary. Even with Ehliss propped upon his back and clutching tightly, Aiden moved silently over the mostly frozen earth with little effort.

  When uneven ground was ahead, Aiden felt Ehliss’ arms tense and grab him tighter, as if to brace against turbulence.

  “I barely feel any jarring, almost no sensation of movement other than the wind,” she would remark, surprised. “It is amazing that your kind is faster than the finest horse and more agile than a gazelle.”

  “I’m not sure comparing Aiden to a gazelle will go over all that well,” Hedron warned as they ran.

  Aiden mumbled something not audible.

  The three wolf cubs dashed around them, weaving an intricate pattern of tracks in the snow.

  “How are they able to keep pace?” Ehliss asked. “Wolves are fast but this speed they display is unnatural.”

  “You know, princess, it’s much less taxing physically if you simply remain silent,” Aiden told her.

  “Princess?” Ehliss repeated with disgust. “I’m not a princess! I’m a terranist, nothing more.”

  Aiden rolled his eyes.

  “That’s actually too bad,” Hedron said. “If you were, maybe you could command Master Aiden and he would obey. I would love to see that.”

  “Can we please just get to where we’re going without the unnecessary commentary?” Aiden asked.

  Hedron shrugged. “Fine by me, it’s the princess you’ll have to convince.”

  “By the Falling Heavens, why have I been thus cursed?” Aiden groused.

  The journey of the first day saw them to the southern parts of the Northern Province. Aiden declared they were far enough ahead of the Borathein afte
r placing his ear to the ground and holding for several minutes. It was more difficult without trees that speak to filter through ambient vibrations, focus on a particular element and accurately judge distance.

  Aiden sat up and was still for a brief moment before raising his right arm above his shoulder and working the joint. He did the same with his left after a few moments and grimaced when it reached a certain angle. He reached his right hand to his left shoulder and dug his fingers into the muscles, pinching, rubbing and releasing.

  “Was I that heavy?” Ehliss asked.

  “Believe it or not, princess, wood-dwellers do indeed tire and need rest. But no, you’re not overly burdensome. I’ve just had my fair share of battles recently without much rest in between.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Not a princess, yes, I know. Yet I seem to have become your chariot nonetheless.”

  “Look, I was fine to not come. I could have happily waited another day and then made it back to Ministry of Terran Studies on my own. I have no problem being on my own. It has more or less been my life.”

  Aiden did not respond but was somewhat impressed by Ehliss’ show of sternness.

  Alabeth broke away from where her two siblings were curled up and snuggled alongside Hedron as he lay against a tree. She put her snout on his lap and looked up at him, ears back. The light of their small fire reflected in her eyes.

  “Oh come on, you can’t be serious!” Hedron scoffed. Alabeth did not move, but just blinked once and continued to stare.

  “No!” Hedron said. He shook his head to add some emphasis to his declaration and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not going to happen!” Alabeth still did not move. A small whimper emanated from her and Hedron looked away, determined not to give in.

  Watching this scene, Ehliss started to laugh. Quietly at first, then louder. Aiden looked up from massaging his shoulder and neck to see what had caused her to laugh and then almost immediately started to snicker despite his aching muscles.

  Hedron tried to contain the laughter building up inside him as he still looked away. His face contorting with the effort made Aiden laugh all the more. Finally the boy gave in and let out a burst of laughter, raising his hand to the she-wolf cub’s head and stroking her behind the ears. Alabeth closed her eyes. The wind blew fiercely and threw the hairs of her coat back and forth but she did not seem to notice.

  “How much longer?” Ehliss asked after the moment had passed.

  “A day to Arlethia, maybe another until we reach Therrium, depending on where he is currently,” Aiden replied. He went back to working the muscles in his shoulder and neck.

  “Here, let me,” Ehliss offered, getting up from her spot to move around behind Aiden.

  “That’s quite all right, little good your hands would likely do—”

  “Shut up,” Ehliss said as her hands went to his left shoulder and started to knead his wire-taut and knotted muscles.

  Aiden did not object once he felt her hands on his body. They were strong and yet nimble, working quickly on his back, shoulders and neck. There were also warm, almost abnormally so. He fully gave in as he hung his head and let his rigid body deflate. Lifting his head for a moment he caught Hedron staring over at them with a wicked grin on his face. Alabeth whined for more attention. Even in sleep Aiden’s muscles were never really relaxed. It was the training of a hold guard; and, perhaps, the guilt of his failures.

  “Where did you learn to do this?” he mumbled from behind the night black hair that covered his face.

  “My father,” she said. “The stress of his former post as Minister often left him weary and tight at the end of long days. He was usually hunched over reports for long hours, not feeling time pass as he was immersed in his work. My mother died young and so it was left to me to care for him. Working out kinked and sore muscles became part of life for me.”

  Shortly after, with Aiden remaining silent, Ehliss stopped. “Aiden?” No answer came except for the slow rise and fall of his shoulders. Though still sitting, he now leaned forward. She gently guided him down onto his side. His breathing was heavy and slow.

  “Typical,” Ehliss muttered.

  “Don’t take it personally,” Hedron called from across the fire. “Better to have him fall asleep mid-conversation than leave you unconscious in the snow with a lump on your head. I know a thing or two about that.”

  In the morning, Aiden awoke to Huksinai and Alabeth nudging his face, whimpering. He waved the wolf cubs off and sat up. The fire was still smoking but gave off no heat. The land appeared exactly the same as it had when they made camp last night except now there was the gray light of morning, which also offered no warmth. Reflexively, he reached his right hand up across his chest to his left shoulder to start massaging, but there was no pain. No more stiffness. The muscles had relaxed in the night. He worked his shoulders and limbs and felt no pain or soreness. In fact, he felt quite refreshed, as if he had slept soundly for a span.

  Well that’s a bit odd, he started to muse but then remembered. He looked to his right and saw Ehliss curled against a tree, still asleep. After grumbling a few inaudible words, he arose and walked over to where she slept. Not seeing any value in approaching the subject lightly, he lifted a foot and shoved her hard. The terranist woke quickly with a start.

  “Good, you’re awake. Thank you,” Aiden said, adding a curt nod. Satisfied he had now met the expectations of polite behavior, he walked away before she could gather her wits to respond.

  Hedron stirred as Thurik stared off in the distance. South mostly. His ears were straight up. Something had the wolf’s attention.

  Aiden came to Hedron’s side. “Get up.”

  “I am up,” Hedron said.

  “No, you’re awake, not up. Get up.”

  “Burning Heavens, give me a second,” Hedron groused.

  “Thurik is agitated.”

  “So am I.”

  “I’m serious,” Aiden said, looking in the direction that Thurik gazed.

  A growl, barely audible, started to sound in the morning air. Thurik’s agitation was obviously rising.

  “What is it?” Hedron asked as he reached his hand to the wolf’s ears. It flinched at his touch. “Wow,” he said, and pulled his hand back. “He’s not quite the cuddler his sister is, I guess.”

  Aiden grew more wary. “There must be something in the air. Something’s off to the wolf.”

  “It must be a scent,” Ehliss offered. “Wolves and dogs can know their environment has changed sometimes by smell long before we can actually see anything.”

  Aiden considered this. “The Borathein are still behind us, although closer. But they’re north of us still. Why is Thurik so interested in the south?”

  “We need a clearer vantage point.” Hedron stood and made his way up a fairly tall tree, at least for the Gonfrey Forest. Once at the top, the youth looked south and squinted.

  “Anything?” Ehliss called.

  “I, uh… I’m not sure.”

  “You’re not sure? You either see something or you don’t.”

  “I’m not sure,” he repeated.

  Aiden ascended the tree and joined Hedron. Once he fixed his gaze where Hedron looked, he jolted backward.

  “Smoke,” he whispered.

  “Is it?” Hedron wondered. “It’s so far off it almost looks like rain, but the pattern was wrong. Perhaps a dark cloud, but it’s the wrong shape for the season; for any season.”

  “It’s not rain or a cloud, lad, it’s smoke.”

  “How far off do you think it is?”

  “Leagues; maybe thirty.”

  “That far? It can’t be. We couldn’t make anything out that far off. Besides, if it is smoke, wouldn’t it dissipate? This is just hanging in the air.”

  Aiden turned to Hedron. “Normally, we probably would not be able to see much from such a distance. But this smoke is thick. Don’t underestimate the size of the haze. The blaze that caused this much smoke was no doubt enormous.”
<
br />   “Where is that, do you think?” Hedron asked.

  Aiden turned his attention back toward the unnatural dark fog. He considered for several moments before answering. “Northern Arlethia. There can be no doubt.”

  That evening, the small party reached the first village in the Arlethian forest. Eledir was the most northern settlement within Arlethia. A small boy greeted them with a bow and arrow notched on the twine string. The weapon stood taller than him. He struggled to draw the bow in a show of strength, but instead he settled on puffing out his chest and deepening his voice.

  “Who are you? What do you want here?”

  Hedron and Aiden looked at each other, somewhat perplexed. The wolf cubs, over half the height of this boy, advanced to him with tails wagging. The boy stepped back, afraid. He turned to run.

  “No,” Hedron called out, “it’s all right. We mean you no harm.”

  “Bad wolves!” Ehliss scolded. This drew a look from Aiden that bespoke his incredulity. “What?” she asked. “They were scaring him.”

  “They are not dogs or children, princess. They won’t obey you like your other royal subjects.”

  “Aiden, I’m not going to—”

  “Master Aiden, if you don’t mind Highness.” Aiden approached the boy before Ehliss could respond. He did get a small bit of satisfaction at seeing her mouth open but she was too dumbfounded to speak.

  “Lad, I am Aiden, formerly master of the hold guard for Lord Therrium. Who are you?”

  “Why should I tell you that? You’re a stranger so far as I can see.”

  “No wood-dweller is a stranger to another wood-dweller, lad.” Aiden knelt down to the boy’s height. “What’s your name?”