by Gary Bregar
What happened next happened so quickly that she would later struggle to retell an account of it.
The ground itself fell away into nothing, and a canyon began to take shape, but Lizabet could not see the bottom from her vantage point. Cliff walls of the newly formed canyon began falling away, and she could see that, farther on, the ground had fallen away already.
She then felt a burst of blistering hot air come across her face. Lava began to spit up from the canyon that continued to increase in size. The fountains of lava flew up in small strings, and looped over themselves as if dancing.
It seemed to Lizabet that this was all happening over a long period of time, but she knew that it was happening quickly. She could no longer see the far side of the cliff, and when she started to wonder how far the crevasse would travel, she was given an answer promptly.
The wave could be heard before it could be seen. Water began rushing through the open space of the canyon, if it could still be called that.
Some mountains and towering columns of dirt had been spared by the infectious cracking of the ground, although only one was immediately visible to Lizabet. These surviving columns of dirt helped to break the sea of water that was now fighting its way into newly found territory. The crevasse that had begun at the end of Lizabet’s staff had reached the Lost Waters, and the sea began pouring into the empty space.
As the water came into contact with the lava that spewed from the floor of the canyon, steam shot violently into the air, carrying with it molten rock that rained down on the Outlands. Later, the rocks would be found for miles inland, and would be blamed for the fires that would break out near the border of all three of the civilized kingdoms.
The water that rushed into the space where Skite lands had once been, fought against the lava. The water eventually won this battle, but when it finally settled, the water boiled, letting off a pungent smell of sulfur that made it difficult to breathe.
By this point, the ground stopped shaking enough for Lizabet to stand. The shaking of the ground had accomplished what it set out to do, and Lizabet saw that the darkness had also retreated, but not entirely. She could still see the hovering of the darkness in the distance, and she knew that it had not left completely. It had settled over Narciss, where Menagraff had remained.
She looked over the cliff that had now formed around her. It overlooked a vast body of water for as far as she could see. But there were islands in places that had survived the devastation. They poked up out of the water, some small, but some larger. The larger of them were continuing to spew ash and lava into the water, and when the streams of lava hit the surface of the choppy boiling water, the quick transformation from lava to rock caused explosions that resembled cannon fire.
She turned back to the battle that had been raging in the Outlands, and saw that the relatively few Skites that had not been pulled into the crevasse were being slaughtered by the allied armies. It would not be long now before they were free of them entirely. After all, there was no longer anywhere for the Skites to run.
Nearly all in the Kingdom of Skite had been swallowed by the sea.
****
The damage was far greater than Lizabet had expected, and in the end, it had won the battle. Being a sha does not come so easily, though, and the win would affect her. As she looked at the battlefield, now littered with blood-covered bodies, she felt their loss—every one of them. She felt their collective pain for an instant and then the feeling passed, but it was enough to sadden her in such a way that she did not think possible. She was simultaneously feeling grief for every single man who had been lost.
It was not only the losses of this battlefield that she felt, though. There was something else, distant from her. She did not know why some of her pain felt different, but she would learn later that it was King Ekkill’s fleet that was helping to burden her.
The Lost Waters were pulled so fiercely into the newly opened space where Skite had once stood that the sea literally fell out from beneath the ships that had been stationed near the Red Islands. Twenty-five ships in total. There was no magic, no charms of the water, that would save them. They were pulled down into the crevasse in seconds, and engulfed by the sea from above just as quickly.
King Ekkill’s fleet at the Red Islands had been lost entirely, without ever seeing battle. The fleet that he was with however, escaped damage—but just barely. The water had pulled on Ekkill’s fleet, ripping them across the water rapidly. It was as if they were being sucked into an opened drain. But it did not happen to them so quickly or as destructively as it had happened to the others at the Red Islands. Those at the islands had been much closer to the destruction.
Admiral Clausen had summoned the waters immediately, and the violence of the sea subsided slowly. They would be saved, but King Ekkill would remain bitter at the loss of the other ships, long after he was told of their demise.
Lizabet, who now walked back toward the Outland Post, leading her horse between the fatalities, would become riddled with guilt. It would pass—it would have to, for she was a sha, and she would indeed have a role to play. Little did she understand then that her role would extend far beyond the battlefield that she now wandered.
King, Queen, Heir, and Sha
AFTER THE BATTLE, they buried their dead—the Forie soldiers laid to rest in the ground on Forie lands, and Bore soldiers burned in ceremony on Bore lands not far from The Cross.
Cergio and Zander had met before the burials to discuss their plans moving forward. They had confirmed Ekkill’s survival and mourned the loss of his island fleet. Now, though, they knew they would need to work together again soon, and with better preparations. They had won the battle, but had not won the war.
Menagraff, who had shrieked in fury when Lizabet had unleashed her own wrath on Skite, had survived as well—his mountain intact. And he had already begun the birthing of the next batch of Skite children. The magic of the sha had not been enough to conquer him, only his army and his lands. The scale of the world was still wavering, and after all, had his death come in this battle, it would have meant the death of his body only. His spirit would still be free to create a new one as easily as he had created the last. His defeat in this battle provided a delay only, and not by much.
****
Their return to Obengaard was mixed with celebration, as well as grief. They would celebrate the win, but mourn those lost—and there were many. They had suffered heavy losses. The losses were not so great that they would render the army incapable, but thousands of families would be grieving across Forris (as well as in Bore and Tongar).
When they rode into Obengaard, it was not to celebrations like those that took place during holidays or the king’s own wedding. They returned to cheers and large crowds, but it was not the same, and Zander wondered what his people would think once they learned that the war was only beginning. They had not defeated the Skites, only hampered them—cut the appendage, only for it to grow back.
The families of those lost in battle already knew that their fathers, brothers, and sons had been lost. Most felt it the moment that their loved one was taken, and others learned of the tragedy by messenger dispatched from Bannister Castle. The king would offer his condolences and assure them that their children had fought hard and brave. That was all that he would be able to offer, and it hurt him to know that.
The kings of the three kingdoms had agreed, after some debate, that they would each offer two thousand men to remain at the Outland Post. They would build a wall against the toxic sea that had now settled where Skite lands had once been. The wall would not cover the full length of the border up to Tongar, but it would offer some protection, and they would use the land in their fortifications, as well, building the wall to meet cliffs and other natural barriers.
When Zander rode into the square, he was followed by most of his army, but not all. They dispersed and broke rank as they approached the city, some greeting family members along the road, and some just outside the city gates.
They were home.
****
It was nearly a month later that Lizabet and Dorian had wandered into the abandoned area of the castle for the first time since returning from the Outlands. Pike, who had been pardoned by the king and given honors, much to the chagrin of the Emm, joined them at the doors to the vast corridor that led to the rooms where they had first met.
As had become customary, Lizabet carried the fairy staff at her side. She had since named the staff The Shadowlight, and would not be without it.
When Pike opened the doors, they found men working on renovations to the once-abandoned wing of Bannister Castle. They were cleaning and replacing windows. Walls had been removed to reconfigure rooms, and they saw that the old torches that had once hung on the walls were being replaced. One group of workers, they saw, were replacing the bells on the walls. They had been shined and the hammers had been buffed.
They walked past the workers and when they arrived at the last door on the right side of the corridor, the room where Lizabet had found the enchanted door, they walked into a changed place.
Zander had ordered the wall where the invisible door had been, be removed and rebuilt with a new door. He did not have the ability to remove the charm that made the door invisible, so he removed the wall that held it instead. Lizabet wondered later if she would have been able to remove the charm of the door herself, and decided that she would not have been able to. She wasn’t sure why.
The entire room had been cleaned. Every stone had been washed and the large table that stood at the head of the room had been refurbished and looked newly made.
They made their way across the room, Lizabet leading Dorian and Pike to the door. A door that they could now see. She stopped in front of the door and the three of them stood staring at it. On the front of the door, had been inscribed, using the old letters,
EVIL BE UNFORGOTTEN
Lizabet took the large iron knob of the door and opened it easily. She turned back to Dorian and gave him a look that seemed to say, I must see it.
Dorian understood, and nodded before following her in, with Pike reluctantly behind. He had been on the bluff that day as well and had seen Lizabet’s abilities. He felt safe with her.
When they reached the bottom of the staircase, they were standing in the room of torture. It was exactly how she remembered it—it had not been changed. Thick dust remained on the iron workings of the torture devices, and webs left by spiders long ago still draped over the mechanics of the contraptions—the webs sometimes building white silky bridges from one iron chain to the next.
They stood looking at the room for several long minutes before Dorian finally broke the silence.
“Why does he not destroy this?” he asked in a whisper.
This was a place to whisper, if ever there was one.
“Because we must face our mistakes so as not to repeat them,” Lizabet replied. “He has decided that he will not bury the evil that lingers on our own lands.”
Dorian understood, and gave no counter reply.
“Evil cannot be eliminated entirely, so the king is creating a balance,” she added.
****
King Zander was doing things differently than his ancestors had. He ordered the erection of a monument in the main courtyard at Obengaard, commemorating the soldiers who had fallen in battle. They might have been buried on the far side of the kingdom, but they would be remembered as heroes at Obengaard. He encouraged the mayorgoverns of each village that had suffered losses (which was nearly all) to do the same as they saw fit.
And he declared a holiday to celebrate their lives. It would be held on the anniversary of the battle at the Outland Post, and he only hoped that they would see that anniversary before the next battle came.
Certainly he would have time with his child before the Skites came once again. For that, he could only hope.
Message from the Author
Thank you for reading my book, Mantle: The Return of the Sha. I hope you liked it. As some of you may know, I am a part-time, self-published author, with the hope of writing full-time one day. As a self-published author, my only real means of accomplishing this is through referrals and reviews. If you could please spare two minutes to leave a review for Mantle: The Return of the Sha, I would be deeply grateful.
Click HERE to leave a review for Mantle: The Return of the Sha.
Thank you,
Gary
About the Author
Gary Bregar has a passion for all things creative. When he isn’t travelling in search of the perfect adventure, he can be found writing fiction stories from his home in Denver, Colorado.
Visit his website at www.garybregar.com for more information, or to connect on social media.