Severed Destinies

by David Kimberley

  Balthus flinched at the response. He was certain that the commander did not like him, but simply accepted his presence.

  "The town awakens," he said, watching as the streets below became busier. "When do we plan to visit this wondrous place?"

  Commander Draliak turned in his saddle and glared at Balthus. "I brought you up here for your insight, invoker. If you can offer none, then return to the camp."

  Balthus met Draliak's unamused eyes and smiled. "My apologies, commander. I am not used to the rainfall and my spirits are somewhat dampened."

  Draliak eyed the invoker with contempt. He had never trusted the magical arts. Steel and blood were the things he believed in most of all. He had not become the commander of the Shada-Kavielian army by holding his faith in magic. He had earned it by his actions on the battlefield. The high mage, Sephonis, had requested Balthus join their cause, as an aid during the attack on Barentin. What good the invoker could do was unknown. A few magic tricks would not aid them to victory, yet this young Shada-Kavielian was undergoing training from Sephonis himself. That fact meant that Balthus had dangerous potential. If he possessed even a third of the power Sephonis wielded, then he would be better as an ally rather than an enemy.

  Draliak glanced at the third rider, who sat quietly watching the town. The commander knew him enough to trust him. He had first met Saroth twenty years ago when he was being trained as an assassin back in Shada-Kaviel, but his duties moved to other matters such as infiltrating and spying. It was Saroth who had found the Rotian contact in Vylandor, a nobleman by the name of Talgan Akalla. Only recently had Saroth returned from his mission to the Rotian capital.

  "What thoughts, Saroth?" asked Draliak. "You seem lost in them."

  Saroth reached up and pulled back his hood, allowing the cool rain to run down his face. His dark hair slowly began to become matted to his skin. It was longer than Draliak's or Balthus', but only because he had been journeying so much of late. He would cut it back from his eyes before the attacks began in earnest. "I was thinking of my last meeting with Akalla," he said quietly. "The fool was so nervous that he actually drew his sword against me."

  "Even I would not be foolish enough to do such a thing," stated Draliak.

  Saroth smiled coldly. "It felt strange that all of my instincts cried out to kill the man where he stood, yet I did not."

  "If you had killed him, then we would have had to find another informant. You made the right choice."

  "It sounds as though this rotian could be a problem," said Balthus, fully aware that neither man was speaking to him.

  Saroth glanced at him. The invoker was nearly half his age, which meant that Saroth could not see him as an equal. However, the protégé of Sephonis' had no fear it seemed.

  "This rotian is my problem, invoker. Let me decide his fate."

  Balthus nodded. "Of course." He thought for a moment. "Does this rotian know much about us?"

  "No. He knows nothing of Shada-Kaviel or its people. He does not know that I am sixty-three years of age. He looks at me and sees a man who has not yet reached his thirtieth year, such is the difference between us and them."

  "Why is it they live for a shorter period of time?" Balthus asked, more to himself than the others.

  Draliak sighed deeply. "That is of no consequence. We age slower and thus live longer. It is the way of the world, now I tell you for the last time to concentrate on the matter before us."

  "Of course, commander. I apologise." Balthus smiled to himself.

  "Tomorrow evening, as night falls, our force rides into Barentin from the east," said Draliak. "Today, we move the camp in preparation."

  Balthus frowned. "What of the town's protection?"

  "Minimal," answered Saroth, drawing his hood back up. "They have a town guard who are slow to act. Our men will cut them to shreds before they can even raise the alarm."

  Draliak pointed towards the river. "Our force will split into four units once we enter Barentin, with men taking any of the ships who are unlucky enough to be moored there at the time."

  "Surely the ships will set sail when they realise the attack is happening," pointed out Balthus.

  "They will not have time to sail. The men will be upon them quickly and whilst they are preparing for sleep. Chances are that most of the crew will be drinking the night away in the local taverns."

  Saroth raised his hood. "Where will you be, commander?"

  "I will be leading the main force into the heart of the town, where the market is situated now. When the attack is over, I want to be able to ride to this hill again and look down at what's left of Barentin."

  "What will be left?" asked Balthus, already knowing the answer.

  "We will burn Barentin and kill anyone who opposes us, invoker. The townsfolk will be taken. Sephonis has plans for them back in Shada-Kaviel."

  "Slavery?" came Saroth's quiet voice from within the shadows of his hood.

  "Most likely, yes. What else he has planned for them, I cannot say."

  Saroth looked west and could see where the Ulmerien forked. Further to the west lay Tamriel, then Boraila. "What of Sephonis? Is he in Boraila with the others?"

  Draliak answered before Balthus could. "Yes. He has his ways of knowing when we begin our attack. The attack on Boraila will begin at the same time, but from the inside as you know."

  Balthus chuckled, drawing an angry glare from Draliak. "The Rotians must be foolish if they cannot even realise that a force of Shada-Kavielians has been growing beneath their city. Imagine their faces when our soldiers emerge."

  "You of all people should know, Balthus, that Sephonis' magic keeps them well-hidden. The abandoned dens used by the smugglers came in useful. Once the attack on Boraila begins, the other ships will sail into port and join them."

  Balthus' face became suddenly more serious. "Let us hope that these attacks go to plan, commander. The Rotian soldiers at the northern border did not give in as easily as hoped."

  Draliak bit back his response and instead turned to Saroth once more. "You are heading west?"

  Saroth nodded slowly. "Yes. I am heading through Tamriel and then onto the fortress, Turambar. I understand that you will be following much the same route after you are finished here."

  "Tamriel will be the next to fall, then we join forces with those from Boraila for the attack on Turambar. When do you leave?"

  "Tonight."

  "Then we must drink to our impending victories before you go. You will join me?"

  "Of course, commander."

  Balthus shook his head at the commander's words. Impending victories. The arrogance would be their downfall one day. The Rotians may have been foolish, but they were not just going to lay down their weapons and surrender. He was sure that much blood would be spilt over the coming weeks, both Rotian and Shada-Kavielian.

  Chapter 6

  Gorric pushed the tavern door open and was greeted by the sights, smells and sounds accompanying such an establishment. The bar room beyond was busy, but not overly so. The people in there ranged from dockworkers to merchants, all of whom had finished their day's work and were spending their well-earned money on the alcohol Gorric never had a stomach for.

  The two-day journey from Tamriel with his father and Khir had been dull and unexciting. The only real conversation was with his father as they discussed Gorric's training in Vylandor. He was looking forward to some warm food and a nice, soft bed. The nobles from Ashgar, with whom his father was to talk, were most likely already in the tavern by now, but Gorric hoped that any bartering was left until morning.

  "Go on in, Gorric," ordered Celestius, moving up behind his son and pushing him into the bar room gently.

  Khir peered from behind Celestius and tried to see what sort of people were within. He had heard rumours that taverns nearest to the docks were usually the roughest. He had brought his hunting knife with him, but had left it with the wagon. Celestius and Gorric had both ridden with their swords at their sides, but they too had left their
weapons with the wagon. Khir took a deep breath before entering the tavern behind the other two.

  Celestius looked around the room and then pointed to a vacant table. "Gorric, Khir, sit there and I'll order some food for us."

  The two young men nodded and made their way to the table. Gorric's stature forced people aside who stood in their path, whilst Khir just tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

  Celestius turned to the serving girl behind the bar. "Good evening, I'm looking for a group of noblemen from Ashgar. They usually stay here."

  The girl thought for a moment. "Ah, yes. They arrived this morning, sir, but I believe that they went up to their rooms a good hour or two previous. A long, hard trek it is from Ashgar."

  Celestius glanced back at Gorric and Khir. "Very well. I'd like full board for two nights then please. Two rooms, one single and one shared."

  As Celestius arranged their stay in Barentin, Gorric and Khir sat nervously at their table. Gorric looked around at the strangers surrounding him. On the table nearest to them sat five men gambling. He caught the eye of one of the five, a man roughly his age with slightly tangled brown hair and a fixed smile, then looked away. He could clearly hear what was being said at that table and found himself listening in.

  "You have luck on your side tonight," one gambler said to the man with the fixed smile. "Where did you say you were from?"

  "Ashgar," came the answer. "Just arrived this morning."

  "What was your name again?"

  "Varayan…Varayan Devohr. Why do you ask?"

  "I like to know the name of those who take my money," replied the gambler.

  The man named Varayan laughed. "I'm sure you'll get it back. I don't usually win."

  Gorric lost interest and looked back at Khir. "You look nervous."

  Khir shrugged. "I don't like these places much, Gorric. You know that."

  "I think you're safe enough. With father here, I feel at ease."

  "Really? You seem as nervous as I do."

  Gorric smirked at his friend. "You know me too well."

  Celestius finally moved away from the bar and sat down at their table. "We have rooms and food is on its way. The people from Ashgar are asleep already it seems, so we will talk with them tomorrow."

  Gorric noticed the young gambler, Varayan, glancing at his father and, for a moment, he thought he saw a strange glint in the man’s eyes.

  Saroth did not glance back as he rode away from the camp, which had been moved to the east of Barentin. He did not like spending time amongst so many others. The soldiers in the camp numbered five hundred. This was allegedly the precise amount of men it would take to attack Barentin and produce the desired results. This number had been determined by Sephonis, whose insight into these matters was rarely wrong. Saroth was sure that Draliak would see to it that Barentin fell as it should. He was still curious though as to why the commander himself had opted to lead the attack. He was the highest ranking officer Shada-Kaviel had and he answered only to Sephonis and the Dar'ota. Draliak was a man who led his army on the battlefield. No doubt being in command of such a small number of soldiers would seem strange to the commander, but Saroth was sure that things would rapidly change once the others arrived in Boraila. Such a large percentage of the Shada-Kavielian army were on their way to these shores.

  However, whilst Sephonis was in Boraila, the Dar'ota remained in Shada-Kaviel. The two had formed a link using their dark arts, so that events in the Rotian Kingdom could be known back in Shada-Kaviel as soon as they happened.

  Saroth wondered about the Rotian military as he kicked his horse into a gallop. How quickly would they react to the sudden appearance of the Shada-Kavielians? Barentin, Tamriel and Boraila would all be lost before any significant reaction could occur. Barentin and Tamriel would burn, whilst Boraila was such an advantageous city that it would stay standing for as long as it was useful. The protection of Boraila was much stronger than that of Barentin or Tamriel, but it would still crumble against the sudden invasion.

  It was after those initial battles that Saroth thought about now. The king, Afaron, would rally his soldiers and most likely try to take back Boraila. However, if there was the opportunity, then the Shada-Kavielian army would crush the Rotians in one brief battle and the land would be theirs. He was anxious to see what response the Rotians had.

  He cursed beneath his breath as rain began to drop from the darkness above him. His ride to Tamriel would take approximately three days, although if he pushed his steed hard the journey might be shortened. He had been using Rotian horses, but longed to ride a Shada-Kavielian steed again. They were so much stronger than the Rotian breed and they certainly had more stamina. He should have taken one of the Shada-Kavielian mounts from the camp stables.

  As the rain became heavier, Saroth drew his cloak as tight to his body as possible but continued to ride hard for Tamriel.

  “Commander?”

  Draliak glanced up at the soldier who had just entered his tent. “Can’t you see I’m eating?”

  The soldier bowed his head. “My apologies, commander, but the invoker wishes to speak with you.”

  Draliak groaned. “Tell him to come back later, when I’m not so busy.”

  “He was quite insistent,” said the soldier.

  “Was he?” Draliak shook his head, then pushed his plate of food to one side. “Very well, let him in.”

  The soldier, eager to escape the commander’s glare, left the tent. A moment later, Balthus entered. He gave Draliak a crooked smile as he approached.

  “Commander, I wondered what exactly you would have me do during the attack tomorrow.”

  Draliak frowned. “I thought Sephonis had told you your reasons for being here.”

  “In a way, he did. I was talking more of where you would have me go. As your force will be splitting upon entering Barentin, I thought it might be best if I remained by your side.”

  “I’ll be leading the main charge into the square. It is most likely the more dangerous route. Why would you want to ride with us?”

  Balthus’ emerald-green eyes glinted. “I feel I would be of more use if I rode in with yourself.”

  Draliak leant back in his chair and tapped one finger on the table as he tried to decide what the look in the invokers’ eyes had signified. “Can you tell me what aid you will give to us then? I should be aware of any actions you may take.”

  Balthus nodded. “Of course. Sephonis has trained me well in the powers we wield, commander. He saw great potential in me, not just in the invoker’s magic, but in others also.” He muttered quietly for a moment, then held his right arm out and opened his fist to reveal a flickering flame dancing upon his palm.

  “Show me something we can use, invoker,” growled Draliak. “A mere flame will not aid us in the battle.”

  Balthus smiled, then whispered a word of magic and the small dancing flame suddenly leapt from his open palm to the ground before him. In an instant, Draliak was surrounded by a circle of flames, which rose so tall that they began to singe the fabric of the tent above him.

  Draliak rose from his chair. “Enough.”

  Balthus whispered another word and the flames died down. “Do you see, commander? My magic will be an advantage.”

  “How well do you control this power, Balthus?” asked Draliak. “I do not want things getting out of hand. You will accompany me, but will only act when I tell you to. Is that understood?”

  Balthus bowed slightly. “Yes, commander. Unfortunately, I am not as powerful as Sephonis…yet. My abilities are somewhat limited compared to him. I must use these powers wisely, so I will keep them at your disposal.”

  “Good. You can’t expect to be as powerful as Sephonis, Balthus. He is much older than you and his power is un…” Draliak hesitated, reluctant to finish his sentence.

  “Unnatural?” ventured Balthus. “It has been rumoured that his power surpasses that of any other living being, apart from the Dar’ota, and that he has somehow tapped into another
energy source.”

  “Some of his power comes from the Dar’ota though, since he has linked with him, is that not true?”

  “It is true, but Sephonis has delved into worlds beyond our own. Even I don’t know what he does in the privacy of his own chambers.”

  Draliak thought on Balthus’ words. Was Sephonis planning to amass enough power to challenge the Dar’ota? Such a thing had happened many years ago, when one Shada-Kavielian tried to remove the Dar’ota from power, but he had been killed within seconds of entering the throne hall. Surely such an action was madness.

  Then again, Sephonis was rumoured to delve into the darker arts. He was said to converse with the unholy. Only a handful of magic-users had ever been able to conjure demons or speak with the dead. The necromantic ways were the most dangerous of the magical arts and, if Sephonis was able to command these powers, then perhaps he would be deemed as unnatural.

  “Enough of this talk about the high mage,” snapped Draliak. “He has Boraila to deal with. We must focus on the coming battle. Go and prepare yourself, invoker.” He pointed towards the exit.

  “As you wish,” smiled Balthus, turning and leaving the tent.

  Draliak took a deep breath in and glanced up at the singed canvas. If Sephonis had seen potential in Balthus, he recognized that the young invoker was perhaps someone to keep close during the battle.

  Chapter 7

  “I would like to introduce you to Gorric…my son.”

  Gorric watched as his father and the Ashgar noble took a step toward him. The noble’s hand was offered and Gorric shook it firmly.

  “He looks like you, Celestius,” grinned the old noble, looking Gorric up and down with his squinting eyes.

  Celestius chuckled and led the noble to a nearby table. Gorric followed closely behind, with Khir placing himself a short distance away from them, at another empty table. He had no wish to become embroiled in talk of politics.