The Bearer of Secrets (Dark Legacy)

by Kyle Belote

  Panic rushed through Starriace. How could she with a mere two seasons of training overcome Xilor? She knew where it had all went wrong, the fault not with her.

  It was my masters’.

  They failed her, blundered her teachings, ineffectual at keeping her safe. They lied to her, outright or by omission, dithering in remembrance of a time long gone, rekindled with her arrival. She was a fool for not seeing it sooner.

  Enmity rallied against Xilor’s would-be truths. She would die here unless she freed herself. No one was coming to save her, they never would. Focusing her intent, she willed herself to move, to be free of Xilor’s grasp. Neck chorded, a vein throbbed in her temple, her lips thinned as she concentrated. With relief, she felt her finger wiggle. A fleeting thought manifested. In the past, no matter strength of power levied against her, she always managed to answer it.

  By the time Xilor quit sputtering about idle dreams and turned around, Starriace had freed herself. In an instant, she drew her wand, sending a blast of energy. Xilor dodged to the side, reaching for his own.

  Glad to know I’m not the only one who ducks or dodges.

  Again, she lashed out, lightning quick, fire racing, bearing down on the Dark Lord. The rolling flames stopped in mid-air, turned to ice, and shattered, the shards flying out in all directions. Starriace let an invisible wall of heat rise between her and the incoming ice. The air shimmered, frozen particles turning to mist.

  Not giving him a chance to recover, she displaced the Dark Lord, and shoved with all her might, sending him hurtling away. Before he made it more than half a dozen meters, his momentum stopped, his feet touching the ground. The tip of his wand flared to life, and a spiraling green pilar spat menacingly. He disappeared, vanished. Starriace lunged a moment later, almost too late. The towering shadow winked into existence behind her, stabbing with the spiraling acid, the edge faintly scoring her left arm at the shoulder.

  Pain lanced through her as she rolled away. He lunged a quick step to impale her chest. Without thought or hesitation, she splayed her fingers, lightning arching from her tips. The red-purple plasma encompassed the dark figure, the swirling acid dissipating. His knees buckled, and he staggered, but did not collapse to the floor. A groan, more in irritation than pain, gurgled from his throat. The arching plasma shot out from his form as he stood to his full, towering height. Her eyes burned, itched, festering, watering her vision. Holding his hand up, the lightning danced from his body to the palm of his hand, congregating there before it sputtered and died altogether.

  Shock lanced her, realizing Xilor choked off the ability. In a swift movement, he jerked his palm towards her. The effect, instantaneous, Starriace launching off her feet. The hard stone floor greeted her, landing in a heap five meters away. Stars peppered her vision and her lungs burned as she gasped for wind. Through the bright spots, she espied Xilor closing on her, his black robes smoking, tears and holes littering the cloth. His slow pace gave her hope, noticing his body wincing with every step.

  So, he can be hurt!

  Xilor’s sudden disappearance moments earlier awakened other abilities at her disposal. Rising to her feet, she charged. The unexpected advance caught him off guard, stopping short. His stance shifted, bracing, and she leaped. Winking, she reappeared behind him with all her momentum, her foot striking a solid blow to his back. The impact bowed him the wrong way, sending him reeling, landing on the floor in a pile of tangled robes and limbs.

  Capitalizing on her advantage, she charged again. With a speed she didn’t think possible, he jerked to his knees, his arm swinging in her direction as if to backhand her despite the distance separating them. A burst of kinetic energy caught her in the chest, propelling her in the opposite direction. The floor rushed up to embrace her, and she winked out of existence, coming out behind him, her body colliding with his. Sprawled across him, she rose, driving her knee into his face.

  A roar of fury bellowed from within the shadowed hood; another kinetic blast launched her away. Breath deserted her, and her mouth stood agape, trying to suck in air.

  “You are a foolish girl,” he seethed. “Young, weak, naive, the powers you possess are only the beginning of your potential, but they are no match for me.”

  I will never be weak again. I will never be helpless.

  “You should have stayed in the Melodic Mountains where you were safe.”

  In a final attempt, Starriace lashed out, unrestrained. If her end neared, she’d face it doing as much damage as possible, making him pay for taking her life. The life drain ripped from him, the red glow blindingly bright, making her want to look away. But she didn’t dare. The siphon lurched across the expanse between them, a torrent of swirling energy.

  Frantic pleas filled her head. By the fucking gods, if you let me kill him, I’ll help rebuild Wizard’s Pass. I fucking swear! Please! Shades, I’ll go back to Judas and apologize for leaving and continue training under him. Please, if you’re fucking listening, I swear I’ll do anything you ask. Just let me kill him!

  Xilor collapse, his knees striking the hard floor. Vitality saturated her, strength returning, and she poured it back into the channeling, redoubling the siphon. Her eyes burned, her vision turned red, alight with liquid fire. Manic frenzy permeated her, the bloodlust falling over her vision.

  Red.

  All she saw was red.

  Her pulse pounded in her ears, she dared to hope that whatever gods did exist were listening to her prayers. Blood trickled from her nose, running over her lips, dripping from her chin. Xilor hitched, collapsing to all-fours.

  In a violent jerk, he swung both arms up and out like shooing away a swarm of insects. The world tilted in an explosion of pain, the blue-white force flinging her across the room like a cannonball. Her skull cracked against the floor nearly half a dozen times before her body landed in a tangled mess. In the jumbled tumbling, Starriace felt a sharp crack, her left arm breaking.

  Pain riddled her body, a fog of disorientation suffocated her. A blurry, dark figure ascended in the distance. A ripple of red energy flickered out, violent convulsions wracked her body. The infliction more than she could bear. Darkness encroached, offering a comforting finale. Another volley and she twitched, her body seizing out of her control.

  A shadow loomed over her, a muffled voice coming from far off. Heat radiated through her body, cooking her from the inside. An acrid smell of burnt hair and flesh filled her nostrils. A spiderwebbed floor cradled her broken body.

  “Give the Lord of the Underworld my regards,” Xilor stated menacingly. The tip of his wand flared again, a familiar swirling green. The acidic blade ascended for the coup de grâce, but he paused. A backwash of white light illuminated around him. His shadowed cowl turned towards the light, and he screeched in agony, his hand hiding his face. He stood for but a moment before fleeing.

  Something or someone lifted her body from the floor; a soothing presence was the last thing she could recall before she faded.

  ***

  Chapter 86 : Ralloc

  Nykron started to slide from its apex and Meristal sat curling her hair around her finger. Contrary to appearance, she focused on every uttered detail, every person present, every breath taken.

  Now that she was Consul, she, Judas, and the others of their group no longer had to meet in the Desert of the Forsaken or some other godawful place. The dungeons provided the perfect balance between secrecy and seclusion. The known but mysterious problem of prying eyes and unwelcome ears had fallen away about the time of Kayis Dathyr’s death. Many of the group believed the former Consul was the leak, but it didn’t add up for her. The biggest hole in the theory: he was never a part of the group. The theory flourished when someone posed the actual traitor in the group reported to the late Consul and Kayis passed on what he learned to Xilor or whomever. Many urged this, but Meristal riddled the notion full of holes when she pointed out that Dathyr adamantly refused to believe Xilor had returned. Staell, the Clydesdale-size unicorn, wisely said this most
likely covered his true intentions.

  Plausible deniability.

  Meristal still didn’t believe the conspiracy, too comfortable and tidy.

  Racing minds put the theory down when someone pointed out the obvious: Xilor killed Dathyr. Speculation ensued that Xilor killed him out of abhorrence for utterly failing to kill Judas or because Xilor had no more use for him now that he no longer held his lofty and cloaked position.

  Meristal’s amethyst eyes rolled over the speaker opposite of her who sat with a military posture. He was the newest member of the group, Scodd Yullus, Supreme War Commander and coordinator for the elyves of the Enclave. Like most elyfian, he kept to himself. He achieved his position with intelligence and cunning scarcely matched by his kin despite being a half-breed. The recommendation from the previous Supreme War Commander didn’t hurt either. Meristal hoped he would prove useful in the war against Xilor.

  That was all the rest of the world knew, but not Meristal, thanks to Judas. Being his closest companion had its advantages. Judas relayed some little facts about Scodd, and it helped her not see him as a complete stranger.

  Yullus was half elyf and half wizardkind, a unique oddity in his own right. Scodd, the sole survivor of his bloodline with no siblings and parents who perished in the first Wizard’s War. Some considered him the perfect specimen of two races while others thought of him as the absolute abomination. Regardless, he made an apt ambassador between two untrusting races.

  Aware of his unique breeding, Meristal could discern the subtle differences in his features, things that probably screamed at the Elyfian. His ears were wider and shorter than a typical elyfian, less sharp at the tip. His eyes, though still elegant, seemed less angular than the rest of his chosen race. Where elyfian had slender, tall faces, his was wider and rounder. Lastly, Scodd looked like a tanned farmer next to Mella. Elyves were never attractive to Meristal, but she would suspend her tastes if the mood struck her.

  It wasn’t the only reason Meristal watched him carefully. Judas confided his belief that a spy still resided in their midst, biding their time and waiting for the right moment to become active again. How he knew, she hadn’t the faintest, but she trusted his judgment. Meristal scrutinized everyone with due diligence despite her muddled feelings over the whole traitor aspect. Still, she tried her best to ferret out the individual with a dual identity.

  Sedrus returned to their fold with his ever-brooding and hypercritical attitude. Atz and Lurx were always present whenever Judas came. Judas himself was there, as well as Mella, the rare combat mage of the elyfian who had accompanied Scodd Yullus as a personal assistant, diplomat, and bodyguard. Beside her, Scodd Yullus sat, followed by Staell, and Zmora. Newcomers Lagelm and Kellis joined their ranks, invited before their race being scorned for their rebellion and joining of Xilor’s horde. Initially, they wanted to bow out of the secret council in shame, but Judas wouldn’t have it. When Meristal pressed him, he informed her keeping the goblins close opened up political arenas which might preclude further support for Xilor. Though the goblins were of the Palatine caste and only a small fraction of the entire race, each faction affected the other.

  Judas never voiced his suspicions on who the conspirator was and never gave reasons as to why he did certain things, but everyone trusted his judgment. He proved right in Xilor’s return, and his gallant efforts at Cape Gythmel kept Xilor’s forces at bay, creating time for fortifications and evacuations. All present considered the traitor dealt with except Judas, and he hatched a plan with Meristal.

  “Whoever the informer is, they are intelligent. Stopping their espionage activities around the time of Dathyr’s death places blame on him and shifts attention from themselves, but the spy also blundered the timing. They stopped their activities around the time of his death, not the day of, or even the hour. The traitor, or traitors, is still here,” he explained to her at length, something uncommon for Judas. “By holding the meetings in Ralloc, it lets the informer think we’ve taken the bait, that Dathyr is the spy. Now they will be emboldened and move again, and this time, we will be watching and waiting.”

  Meristal shook her head, chasing the memory away.

  “I understand your point,” Meristal agreed, after Scodd Yullus finished his presentation on how his people could be an asset in the battles to come. “What I don’t follow, however, is why the elyves want to pitch in now and help with the fight?”

  “We did fight,” Scodd reminded her coolly.

  “No, you didn’t,” she countered. “A few of you did, yes, that is true. But as a whole, you didn’t fight. Had I been Consul when those few elyves decided to attack Shadow City, I would have refused to sanction the act unless you–as a race–decided to join our war efforts,” she supplied in clipped tones.

  “Your point is noted, but you weren’t the Consul, were you?” Scodd bit back. Mella, Meristal noted, put a hand on Scodd’s arm, reminding him where he was and whom he addressed. Scodd paused, noticing the hand, and composed himself. “Forgive my outburst. I am not accustomed to anyone challenging my words, especially when it comes to matters of war. We cannot change the past; only the present can affect the future. The elyves will march to war, with or without Ralloc’s approval.”

  “War Commander,” Meristal soothed. “It is not my intention to upset you, but it is an odd reversal of decisions on the elyves’ part. It is strange that now when we are sending you refugees, you wish to become part of the war effort.”

  “I do not speak for all elyfian but as for the Enclave, we feel we haven’t put forth the effort or suffered our share of hardships in this new war.”

  “Then your motion to join us is welcomed. Of course, tomorrow, we will make everything formal. There should be no problems allowing you to honor the old allegiance. However, I will not accept your proposal for your forces to attack Shadow City–or at least, not yet.” Murmurs rippled through the small antechamber at the announcement of her decision.

  “Why, may I ask?” Yullus inquired.

  “Timing and diplomacy. I’m aware and sympathize with your readiness to avenge the fallen and imprisoned, but before we tromp in and destroy the vampires, diplomacy must be tried first, if only as a courtesy.”

  Scodd sat still, unblinking as others around him nodded at her words. Meristal looked pointedly at Judas. Brows knitted in concentration, a bead of sweat clung to his temple, his white lips quivered, unnoticed with a quick glance. He reached up and rubbed his forehead, massaging some unseen knot of stress away. His eyes snapped open, and his head jerked towards Meristal.

  “I cannot find her.”

  “Find who?” Meristal and Sedrus spoke at the same moment before casting a glance at each other.

  “Jinx,” Scodd whispered, scarcely audible to Mella sitting next to him.

  “Julie. I cannot find her anywhere. She was somewhere dark and in terrible pain. Dying. I could sense fear and anger, and a rage that wasn’t hers. I felt him.”

  “Him, who?” Mella said impassively.

  “Xilor.”

  Staell was the first to speak. “Judas, you are not infallible. It could be that nothing happened,” he cautioned.

  “Are you daft?” Sedrus spoke up. “Judas is the most powerful one that we know. If he can’t sense her …” He left the rest of the sentence unsaid.

  “…then Xilor killed her. She is dead,” Judas finished.

  “No,” Zmora, the fairy, spoke up for the first time. “She isn’t dead. I would know instantly. She is still alive, but where, I am uncertain.”

  ***

  Chapter 87 : Starriace

  Luminance enveloped her, pure, warm, majestic, a cocoon of healing power. But the light was not only on the outside but within, illuminating her flaws, her stained soul, her fractured mind. Her body felt young, whole, vibrant. Even her eyes no longer burned. She blinked rapidly, letting her eyes adjust.

  The room had white walls with strips of crystalline at the corners and around the doorframe. She called on her essence, s
couring over her body like Fife taught her to heal headaches, and it answered her call, effortless. Noting her treated injuries, she pushed off the bed. The air had a buoyancy and Starriace couldn’t discern the reason. Absent a door, the same white of the walls filled the doorframe. Hesitantly, she tested her hand, pushing through as if nothing was there. Confident, she walked through.

  As she entered the greeting room, several angelic beings turned to regard her, their secretive conversations paused as she approached. She scarcely believed her eyes, thinking she dreamed, a mortal among gods, or was she dead and this was the afterlife?

  Large white wings loomed behind them, not supple and leathery like a bat, not feathered like a bird, but made of light and the softest rabbit fur. Blank faces with high cheekbones and sharp features regarded her in stillness. After what seemed an eternity, a woman sidled up and spoke.

  “It is good you are up and about.”

  Starriace kept her silence but managed a nod, allowing the woman to carry the conversation. A stranger or guest, she didn’t know what would offend, so she chose the safest option.

  “Would you like to go for a walk? Stretch your legs?” the beautiful woman asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Good. You must yearn for answers to questions you have yet to ask.”

  “Only if the answers bring truthful and productive answers,” Starriace said cautiously.

  “Only truth and peace will I speak.”

  A man spoke up from behind them; Starriace didn’t notice his presence until he spoke. “Perhaps,” the angelic man said, “you should take her to him.”