Circle of Reign

by Jacob Cooper

  “The name glyph,” Reign said. “It is the one different symbol on every chase-giver. If someone called a Helsyan by their name, their actual identity, then—”

  “No one can read the ancient tongue, not even the Gyldenal anymore,” Jayden said.

  But if someone could discern it, they could break the hold the Stone of Orlack has on that Helsyan.

  “So goes the theory,” Jayden admitted, “but it’s a useless waste of intellectual debate and time since it is a dead language, as much as my own is.”

  Reign pondered deeply for several moments, retracing her memories and those of her father. Her stare was fixed though she focused on nothing in her physical view, but rather saw with clarity images in her mind.

  “I can read it,” she said.

  “Don’t be foolish, child. You are something of a wonder, the first we know of since the Turning Away to take in a last breath. I think that says a lot of your father as well as you but—”

  “I can read it,” she again insisted.

  Jayden looked at her for a moment and then accepted Reign’s claim with a nod. Whether or not she actually believed her, Reign did not know, but she knew at the least that Jayden did not care to continue with that topic.

  “Why are we here again?” Reign asked.

  The old wolf shepherd scurried around the forest floor curiously, stomping her heel every few paces.

  “Well, are you going to help me or not, Elohk?”

  The large albino wolf huffed and walked forward to a spot about fifteen paces and looked at his master.

  “Ah, right!” Jayden exclaimed. When she came to the spot Elohk had indicated, she again kicked the ground and a hollow thump sounded. She reached down and cleared away leaves and earth to reveal a large slab of wood. Before Reign could ask what it was, she knew.

  Will I ever be truly surprised again with you in there? she sarcastically asked her father.

  Jayden found two short pieces of rope and pulled the wooden covering up. Underneath in a pit no more than three feet deep were scores of bows, arrows, spears, maces, swords and shields. The metal was a dark pewter color, different than the silvery gleam of polished steel although this metal still had a luster to it.

  “Jarwynian ore,” she said.

  Jayden nodded. “Indeed.”

  Knowing the Jarwyn Mountains to be hundreds of leagues to the southeast, she asked, “But who—”

  Before she could finish, Jayden glanced around. Reign took the cue and looked but saw nothing other than the thick frondescence natural to this environment. Nothing seemed out of—

  From behind the trees and plants, silhouetted figures came into focus. The number of them startled Reign and she reflexively reached for the sword at her hip.

  “We are only seen when we want to be, especially here,” Jayden explained.

  “We?” Reign asked, still tense despite her father’s sense of reassurance in her mind. Crimson Snow was not acting apprehensive, which did speak some comfort to her.

  “Reign, these are the Warriors of Light. Better known in myth as the Gyldenal. Welcome to our hallow.”

  The land changed before her. Thickets became grassy patches, trees removed themselves and altogether disappeared in some cases. A clearing in the canopy opened above them and a stream flowing westward toward the sea came up from the ground. Where she stood became a pleasant meadow instead of thick jungle growth. She now saw clearly that they were surrounded by hundreds of men and women. She sensed many to be wood-dwellers.

  Reign’s apprehension did not abate but increased. “Of what create is this?” she demanded.

  “I told you, dear. The Tavaniah lands are protected as the resting place of the Lumenatis. Its Influence is strong here as is the Light of those you now plainly see. They mean you no harm, child.”

  Reign looked down at the recessed armory where Jayden still knelt. “And those?”

  “We have people placed in all areas of the Realm, even in the High Duke’s court. Several of our members work in the mines of Jarwyn. It has been years in the planning to be able to slowly collect weapons of such difficult craftsmanship and smuggle them here.”

  Two men, not wood-dwellers, stepped forward.

  “This is Daneris.” Jayden motioned to the man on the left. He was well defined and pleasing to look at for someone not of Arlethia.

  “He was in the service of Wellyn as a Khan. The other is Aramith, an ore master from the Jarwyn mines. We have them to thank for the supply of weapons as well as vital information.”

  The two men nodded at Reign in greeting.

  You were right, Reign told her father. I did not understand.

  We knew a time would soon come when the Gyldenal would be needed to preserve the people. Not just of Arlethia or the Realm, but of all Våleira. We were preparing to do whatever was necessary.

  And they found one of your weapons caches. The “evidence” they claimed to have.

  A man came forward who was ancient to her eyes and greeted Reign. Long gray hair draped around his face to his shoulders, and he held a staff in one hand made from—Triarch wood, she knew in her mind. He seemed oddly familiar to her.

  “I am a current,” he said in a thin voice.

  Reign answered: “I am a current of friction and light, a spark against the Ancient Dark that cannot be extinguished, a beam of the Lumenatis.” And then she saw it. The gentle breeze lifted the hairs that had covered a portion of his face and revealed a marking on his cheek that was a curve, resembling a wave. Reign’s breath caught as she recalled a time in the forest after her father died, a time that she had believed was perhaps no more than a dream.

  “You came to me,” she said. “I remember, but—”

  “I did come to you, young one. And do you remember what I told you?”

  “To keep my anger close, that it would shield me for a time, that…” She paused as she collected her memories. “That he would not blame me. You meant my father.”

  The old man nodded. “And so your anger was a shield while you needed it, but that time has passed. What else?”

  Reign blinked, trying to scrape free the petrified memories of that time from the inside of her head. “The breath,” she answered. “You said I would see you again when I had taken my father’s last breath. You knew, even then—but how?”

  The old man smiled. It touched his eyes and gave off an aura of kindness and depth all at once. “I am Evrin,” he said and gently squeezed her hand. “I am the Keeper of the Living Light, as appointed by my brothers and sisters.” Evrin gestured to those all around them. “We are honored to have Lord Thannuel Kerr’s daughter among us. I perceive that your mind is pure and untainted. With your father’s last breath upon you, you should be prepared for what must be.”

  Reign did not know if she liked the sound of that but did not shrink away.

  “What is that?” she asked sheepishly. The presence of this elderly man was magnetic. She felt such depth from him, such understanding.

  “To lead, of course. The battle about to be fought is greater than one for lands or power or possession. It is for the essence of the world itself, whether it will survive with life and Light, or fall to eternal entropy within the Ancient Dark, as have other worlds.”

  She was about to ask what Evrin meant by “other worlds” when the first part of his statement finally hit her.

  “I can’t lead!” Reign exclaimed. “I’ll fight. I’ll do whatever I can, but I am not a leader!”

  “Ah, but you will be, child. After you are taught the ancient axioms of Light, you will be able to harness the Living Light greater than any other since the Ancients.”

  “Why me? I am no one special, not compared to any of you.”

  “But you are wrong, my dear,” Evrin assured her. “It was to be your father’s role, he having demonstrated more capacity for Light than any living member of our order could recall witnessing. In order to conceal and save the Living Light from being extinguished completely during the Turni
ng Away of the Ancients, our predecessors buried it deep within the Triarch trees in the Tavaniah Forest. However, it was also a curse; for though we preserved the Light and therefore Våleira, no one had enough capacity to withdraw it again. For thousands of years the Gyldenal have protected and hidden the secrets of the Lumenatis and waited for someone to demonstrate enough capacity for Light to restore the world as it once was before the Turning Away. To restore the Ancients, as the stories often say. Your father showed great promise but even then we could not be certain. Those who buried the Living Light are long passed away. But, alas, Thannuel’s time ended before his purpose could be fully realized. But, as his daughter, and combined with his knowledge and capacity, you can potentially extract the Lumenati Light in amounts great enough to reverse the effects Noxmyra has spread across the rest of the world.

  Unknown to those here on Senthara, there is no life beyond these borders any longer anywhere in the world. All other peoples have perished with the lands turning fallow. It has become time to stand against the Dark, few though we may be.”

  Reign did not answer because she did not know what to say. Finally: “What must I do?”

  “We are not just protectors and preservers, young Reign. Though your abilities will easily surpass our own with your advantage, we will stand by you and fight this war. It is time for the Warriors of Light to come out of obscurity and once again be known.”

  Looking to the wolf, Reign said, “Gather your packs.” Crimson Snow darted at incredible speed northeast toward Jayden’s old cottage. Reign had a fleeting thought regarding the age of that decrepit house and believed it must be as old as Jayden herself.

  “There are others coming,” Jayden said.

  Evrin nodded. “Yes. We believe over five hundred thousand, less than a span of days from the edge of the glaciers.”

  “Who?” Reign asked with concern.

  “The remnants of the Borathein people,” Jayden said. “They come because they have nowhere to go and most of the Realm has been promised to them if their armies, already at the edge of Calyn, are successful in the destruction of Arlethia.”

  “You and those you choose to work with you will prepare for them,” Evrin said to Jayden. “They will need to be dealt with in either event, should Arlethia survive or succumb to defeat.”

  “Hedron,” Reign said, thinking of her twin brother.

  Jayden looked grave. “He is not his father, despite Aiden’s best efforts. He is not ready for what comes.”

  Reign discerned the meaning behind Jayden’s words, that her brother would not likely survive, but she could not accept this.

  “Ready? None of us are ready!” Reign defended her brother. “Hedron did not choose this, nor did I! But have some faith in him. He is young but you cannot see the strength he hides under a boyish façade. He will do what he must!”

  “As will we all,” Evrin said.

  FIFTY-ONE

  Aiden

  Day 5 of 2nd Dimming 412 A.U.

  AIDEN SAW THE TERRIBLE SIGHT ahead of him and felt the tremors from below. One league north approached a storm of flying demons like a feral haze floating above the forested canopy. The brilliant, cold-blue light of first moon cast eerily morphing shadows under the beasts that gave an illusion not unlike black waves fighting against one another as they washed over the leafy shore. Aiden did not need to be a wood-dweller to feel the approach of more than a thousand score invaders below him on the ground where the Southern army waited. It was as if a piece of the thunder that clapped above them had become incarnate and walked upon the land below. The lightning that ripped the skies illuminated the flying horde every minute or less, leaving no doubt as to the number of enemies facing them.

  He stood in plain sight—there was no point in concealment—upon the leafy terrain at the top of the trees that lined the northern rim of Calyn at the head of ten thousand Arlethian warriors, only a fifth of what their army had once been. They were at the center of their battle formation with roughly fifteen thousand civilian men, women and children on either flank. The civilian militia, all Arlethians, was adequately armed, mercifully, thanks to the arrival of Lord Hoyt’s forces from the south. They hauled with them weapons and armor they had stripped from the Eastern Province’s forces, enough to arm twenty thousand soldiers. Some of the militia did not look strong enough to even lift the swords or axes given them, but the moment would give them strength. Ancients be with us! The fear that permeated the air as they watched the massive winged cavalry approach them was palpable.

  As he scanned to the right and then left, he caught sight of a figure he thought he knew, a little girl with a bow of wood-dweller create. Rue-anna! Seilia’s daughter from the village Eledir. He wondered if Mikahl, her brother, would be here, but he did not see him in his brief scan.

  If she’s here, Fletch must be also.

  He thought about sprinting to her in the few brief moments that remained and ordering her down, but there were more than a hundred score of children mixed into the militia. His orders would not be rational but he also knew he could not protect the little ones, though he desperately wanted to. The age of innocence, he knew, would mean nothing to the foes that now approached.

  Hedron had given Aiden command of their forces despite his protests that he must stay at his Lord’s side. The boy—now a man and lord—insisted and stated his arguments well. No one else had faced one of these Alysaar, as Jayden called them, before; nor the Borathein who mounted them, almost as beastly as the flying creatures themselves. Aiden had not just faced one Alysaar, but two. While one did escape, the other he gutted thoroughly, slicing its head in half down through the neck to the shoulders. Its two riders had fared no better. He knew how to kill them. This fact gave both the soldiers and militia a few much needed threads of courage as they faced the threat of almost certain genocide.

  He gripped the Triarch leafling between his palm and sword hilt more tightly. Most of the Arlethians with him, if not all, also had a leafling in their grip. Every increased bit of sensory perception would aid them, both in their attacks as well as chances for survival.

  What if Wellyn releases his Dark Influence again? There wasn’t any doubt that he would, Aiden realized, and knew there was nothing he could do about it. Focus. Think of nothing but this moment. He quieted his mind until he could hear nothing but the beat of his heart. Slow. Confident.

  It started small. Aiden took a silent step forward, then another. Those behind him followed. In less than five strides, the full force of roughly forty thousand charged. There was no yell or verbal challenge, only air whistling around them as they propelled themselves to an inhuman velocity. The Borathein would see only blurs upon the dark treetops beneath them, but their speed would not camouflage them from the Alysaar. Their vision was far more acute than humans with literally breakneck reflexes. He had experienced this only days past at Jayden’s cottage.

  Aiden dragged his sword along the canopy, creating an uneven rhythm as his blade bounced off branches and leaves, the same way he used to do when he was a boy with his wooden practice blade. He was close enough now to clearly distinguish one enemy from the other without the aid of sporadic flashes of lightning in the night sky. A command was heard from the foremost rider, and the Alysaar with their riders began a steep incline. It was as beautiful and terrible as a tidal wave moments before pulverizing a doomed soul in its path. The Alysaar wave crested and dove sharply, vehemently, toward the charging wood-dwellers. The grandeur of the sight was awe-inspiring and Aiden felt a kernel of fear burrowing inside him. He captured it before it took root and recycled the friction. A sensation of tingling went through his right hand and he knew his sword was vibrating as it had done that night long ago, from which all these current events had their genesis.

  He ran faster, into the crashing wave of demons, determined to see it break around him. He prayed for those who so bravely had taken up a blade in defense of their lands and families. They ran willingly with him into a nightmare that left l
ittle hope of relinquishing those it ensnared, but they charged with him regardless. He knew morning would never come for most. Perhaps not even for him. Just moments before the first Alysaar crashed down upon him, he smiled.

  The ear splitting screech of the demons—sonorously both high and low in pitch—cracked through the night air.

  Aiden launched.

  The ground shook under Hedron’s feet. Huksinai, Alabeth and Thurik waited on his left side, each lined up shoulder to shoulder. They were eager yet disciplined—even Thurik—and they knew they would not be restrained this time. Alabeth looked up at Hedron and put her ears flat.

  “You’ll be fine,” he promised and pet her head behind her ears.

  To his right on horseback were Lord Calder Hoyt, Master Gernald Quarry, and Lord Marshal Wenthil, whom Lord Hoyt had appointed to lead the ground forces with Hedron’s consent. Hedron stood with his own feet on the ground. A wood-dweller lost much of his advantage in battle when riding a horse. Not only were they more agile on their own but wood-dwellers also needed to feel the ground as keenly as possible, and a horse would be a natural buffer to those vibrations running through the ground and conducted by the massive interwoven root system of the forest. In addition to the South’s thirty thousand here on the ground were roughly twelve thousand Arlethians. None of them soldiers, but standing bravely all the same. Merrick was just behind Hedron, his heavy hammer resting against a shoulder the size of a mountainside. Hedron felt no pity for those who would be in its way when the avalanche began. It would be only moments now.

  Wenthil had organized their ground forces as best he could, being unfamiliar with the terrain and also with commanding civilians who were Arlethians. He did not know how to best use their abilities to an overall advantage and there was no time to learn. The Lord Marshal had given permission to Glimon, who finally revealed himself bashfully to be a retired command sergeant and had served in the Orsarian War, to deploy the civilian militias as he best saw fit. When Hedron asked Glimon why he had not previously made his experience known, he humbly said, “Those days are not something we intended to remember, certainly not repeat.”