Wielder of the Flame

by Nikolas Rex

  Soren chuckled and turned back, “Questioning my skills with the reins, eh?”

  Zildjin grinned.

  “No,” Soren continued. “I was thinking it is about time to settle down for the night. What do you two think?”

  “Yes,” Zildjin replied.

  Sesuadra nodded his agreement.

  “Very well, this small clearing up ahead will do.”

  He led the balkars to the intended destination and pulled the wagon off the path onto the grass. Once they had stopped completely, the two boys jumped from the cart and began unloading the bedding and the other things they needed for their camp.

  Soren nodded appreciatively, I did not even have to ask them.

  He jumped down with less grace and silently cursed his aging, as his back complained with pain from the days ride. He remembered a time not too long ago when he could travel for days with little to no sleep, by riding or by wagon, and afterwards still feel as spritely as ever. But that time had passed. He unlatched the balkars and led them to a thick clump of underbrush for them to munch on. The large creatures ate hungrily. He then withdrew a sizeable sack of pungent smelling spice. He took large handfuls of the stuff and generously threw it on the ground around the area and around their campsite. The two creatures would not need to be tied to anything. They had been trained to recognize the strong smelling odor as safety and security and would not leave too far from the scent. Soren patted the nearest balkar firmly on its front right shoulder.

  Faithful creatures, he thought again, nodding.

  He made his way back to the camp, not too far from where the beasts were eating. Sesuadra was finishing covering the wagon with their large canvas sheet, and Zildjin had already started on a fire. Soren was looking forward to a warm meal. His stomach grumbled with hunger.

  He helped Sesuadra finish his work, then the two of them set up the three makeshift beds around the fire and afterwards helped Zildjin start supper. They peeled vegetables, pulled out dried salted meat, and boiled water for a stew.

  It was not long before they were all hunkered over their own separate bowls of food, eating and sipping quietly. The night held a slight chill that was unusual for Refoveo, the warmest part of the cycle.

  They ate until the rest of the stew was gone, then cleaned their platters, utensils, and the pot. Finally they were ready to sleep. The fire died down to lowly burning coals. The balkars continued eating quietly nearby. The three each lay down on their own makeshift beds and closed their eyes.

  ***

  At first, Soren was unsure what had awoken him. He sat up from his bedding on the hard ground. Was it the balkars? No, both large creatures were lying down, asleep, unmoving aside from their heavy breathing. He scanned the camp, both boys were still sleeping as well.

  Then the sound came again and he turned to the forest. The rustling of leaves and of underbrush came from within, accompanied by a strange light. Soren eased himself up carefully, slowly drawing his sword. The sound of his blade against the sheath woke up Zildjin, who sat up, rustling his bedding, in turn waking Sesuadra. The two boys looked at Soren, worried.

  Soren brought his hand up to quiet them and then pointed to the forest. A glowing white and green light was moving in-between the trees, fast approaching them.

  Zildjin and Sesuadra both drew their blades.

  “Wh—?” Zildjin whispered but Soren cut him off.

  “Shhh,” He whispered back, waving his hand.

  The rustling grew louder and they heard quick and heavy footsteps against the forest floor.

  Soren gripped his sword tightly. All the stories he had been hearing the past few days of unexplained attacks on the road came to detail in his mind. He knew there were many dangerous predators of varying degrees deep within the forest, but those creatures mostly stayed within their territory, steering clear of the advances of civilization and the major roads. The most terrifying beasts lay far in the east, deep in the Wildlands, where wild magic roamed free.

  So what was this light? What had they done to attract it? And what did it want when it reached them?

  He pushed the fears back down inside him as he was trained to do, as he had done much in his lifetime. He would not let his emotions get the better of him.

  He stood up and slowly walked over, putting himself between the boys, the camp, and whatever was drawing near.

  The glowing light reached them before they could see its source. It was more than light, it surrounded them and entered them, spreading calmness through them.

  And then the thing emerged from the trees. It was a giant beautiful beast of the forest. It stood on four powerful legs with hoofed feet. Protruding from its large head behind its ears were two massive curved horns and two impossibly enormous, intricate, antlers. The creature stared down at them with black and green glowing eyes. It had a long muzzle ending in a large black nose. It towered over them. It’s head was the size of a man. A thin light brown fur covered most of its body, a massive shaggy mane covered its lengthy neck and its lower leg joints. A powerful glowing aura surrounded the creature, lighting from its body and mane almost like a lustrous green and white mist. The creature was the source of the brilliant emerald and silver light.

  A young man about the same age as Zildjin and Sesuadra lay nestled in the antlers of the creature, asleep. The boy was dressed in strange apparel and had a sword attached to a belt around his waist. He had a head of thick, tousled, brown hair. Another small furry creature, not unlike a tiny Rovaar, sat next to the boy.

  Soren’s eyes grew wide with wonder at the appearance of three visitors. He slowly let his fingers uncurl around his sword and the weapon fell to the earth. He felt like he was in the presence of greatness, a feeling he had experienced before. He knelt on one knee out of respect. He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Zildjin and Sesuadra were following his example. He heard their weapons drop and the shifting of their clothes as they moved.

  The small furry creature was black, also with green glowing eyes. It lighted off the antlers, landing with extraordinary grace to the ground below.

  Then a voice came into Soren’s head, and he could sense that the voice could be heard in the two boys’ collective minds as well. It was a male voice, deep, resounding, coming from the large creature.

  Nao Timore. Fear not.

  The glowing aura around the creature brightened for a moment. Soren felt calmness spread through him again and he relaxed.

  Then a second voice came, this time coming from the small feline. It was a calm, soothing, female voice. A beautiful voice.

  We come only to speak a few words for we cannot remain here long. I have led this boy here, now, for a purpose. This is a strange new place to him, help him in all things, guide him. We have granted unto him a way that he will understand those around him, and you will understand him. Darkness is rising and you all have a part to play in the fight against it.

  We will help when we can, we will be watching.

  The large creature carefully leaned forward, bending its massive front legs, and bowing its mighty head to the ground. The white and green light surrounded the sleeping boy and lifted him from the antlers to softly rest on the clearing floor.

  The small furry animal looked up at Soren. Zildjin and Sesuadra watched silently as Soren and the small creature held their gazes steady for a few long moments. Then Soren nodded and the black creature turned to the mighty beast.

  The small creature bounded gracefully back up to its antlers and then the large beast drew back to its extensive length.

  Farewell.

  They all three heard the voice.

  Then both creatures slowly withdrew into the forest, the light fading with their retreat.

  It was silent for what seemed like a long time.

  Then Zildjin spoke, “We should help him.”

  Soren nodded.

  “Sesuadra, grab an oil lamp and—” he began but Sesuadra was already lighting one.

  After the lamp was lit he ca
me with Zildjin to Soren.

  The three of them slowly moved forward to where the boy lay, resting.

  Sesuadra lifted the lamp to better see the stranger’s face.

  He drew a breath in surprise and turned to Soren and Zildjin.

  They returned his gaze with confused looks of their own.

  “What?” Zildjin said.

  Sesuadra, usually the quiet one, had not spoken for almost a day and a half, but he deemed it important enough now to say, “I recognize him.”

  Chapter Three

  Leaderless

  A black bird soared across the sky, in search of food.

  It was a hot day. The sun was bright, unhindered by clouds.

  The bird had flown from its cliff-side perch down to the basin below, a thriving center of civilization known as Concord Valley.

  The races who dwelt here were many and diverse, but united under a single ruler. When commanded, together they formed a sizable and rising force to be reckoned with. But without direction, they struggled to maintain alliances. Towering mountains surrounded the valley on one side, an immense dark lake covered the other. The water of the lake was always rough and uneven, blown by the wind sweeping through the valley. There were many towns and cities across the way, but at the heart of the numerous territories within the valley was a vast city, the center of which was dominated by a massive fortress.

  It was an impressive structure, designed by a genius, yet dark mind. Thousands of slaves had died in its construction, their bodies thrown into the walls, sinking deep into the very mortar of the construct. Where the hands of men failed to work, powerful enchantments had been used to finish the great building. Shattering the skyline with its height, all of its spiraling towers, winding corridors, arches, balconies, walkways and staircases accentuated the tall, gigantic dome in its center. From its highest, dizzying, point, the buildings surrounding it far below appeared as small pebbles along the shore. Its surface was that of charred black rock, cold and dark. Gargoyles and statues adorned its vast exterior. Some wore ugly faces of bloodthirsty rage and horror, others the façades of tormented souls in anguish. It was hideous, and yet awe-inspiring, frightening and otherworldly, a powerful and unbreakable mighty stronghold.

  The enormous dome, even with the use and aid of powerful magic, was a feat of architectural engineering.

  But the bird did not notice any of these details while it flew in-between the many spiraling towers. It only had an eye for potential food.

  As it circled lower and lower it drew near a large open balcony. A cornucopia of food was laid out on tables, right in the open, but there were several large figures in the room connected to the balcony and though they were mostly distracted, talking amongst themselves, they were a possible threat to the bird. Two more figures were on the balcony, browsing through the food, picking up pieces of meat and fruit here and there and eating them. The bird’s hunger overcame its fear and it flittered down, landing on the guardrail of the balcony furthest away from the moving figures, but still near something edible. It was not a very intelligent bird and gave a loud squawk or two after a few moments of its landing, ruining any sort of chance it had of not being noticed. Perhaps it was simply voicing its hunger, or was warning the figures nearby that it was going to eat some of the food now and would defend itself if attacked. Regardless, the bird failed to see the third figure on the balcony in the shadows nearby.

  There was a quick flash of pink as a long extending tongue whipped out and wrapped around the bird and retracted. There was a crunch and a spurt of blood and the figure in the shadows stepped out.

  His name was Sklan.

  He was tall, easily six and a half heads high, and for the most part looked humanoid in stature, but with the facial features of something different entirely. He had small overlapping scales instead of skin, which appeared oily and shiny in the hot golden light of the sun. The majority of the scales were a murky emerald in color with a natural pattern of jagged blade-shaped stripes, amethyst in hue. His head was almost entirely like that of a snake, snout instead of a mouth, and red slits for eyes, but still held a hint of human features in it. He was dressed in the robes he always wore when on official business. He was a Luminary, one of the most elite of titles, and he made sure his look reflected that. All the other leaders and dignitaries present were dressed similarly, but each with wardrobes that drew from their own race’s style of apparel. His robes were extravagantly designed, byzantium in color, inlaid with gold patterns. Over his chest and shoulders was a set of decorations that was made from dragon bones fused together with black metal. And finally, his four fingered reptilian-human hands held a black staff with a blood red ruby at its top.

  The same ruby that all Luminaries and prominent leaders possessed. A symbol of their loyalty to their Master and leader, the Great One.

  Sklan finished with the bird, mostly swallowing it whole.

  “You grahks are a repulsive race!” said one of the others there on the balcony by the tables of meat, “There is a feast aplenty before your eyes and yet you deem it insufficient.”

  The fury within Sklan quickly rose. How dare a mere appointee address a Luminary in such a manner.

  But the other individual out on the balcony was Duwarr, the human Luminary, so Sklan withheld his anger. Duwarr was busy separating the bone from one of the meats before putting it on his platter and did not hear the comment. He had long black hair, pulled back from his face, and a face with sharp features and dark eyes. He was dressed in a new style of semi-robes of various colors. Sklan found human fashion very distasteful the way they were always changing, never staying with something elegant and consistent.

  “You would be wise to watch your tongue,” Sklan hissed at the young man, loud enough for Duwarr to hear.

  The human Luminary looked up and quickly assessed the situation.

  “Aget,” he glared at his assistant, “Withdraw yourself, and fetch me another goblet of wine.” Duwarr motioned for the young man to the far end of the balcony, away from Sklan.

  “I apologize for whatever may have slipped from my appointee’s mouth. Council has proceeded for too long today.”

  Sklan outwardly glared at him, but inwardly agreed with him.

  Their leader had been gone for some time now. In his absence, tension had been mounting between the various races. It was not uncommon for Tremos to leave on occasion, to go on tasks that his servants were not powerful enough to complete on their own. But he was never gone for too long. His stronghold was here, and his rising army within it. It was here that most of his attention was focused. Planning and organizing until he decided the time was right for them to march West. His faithful Luminaries were always left to care for things. But the Luminaries had been running things for a long time now without a leader. Without his divine and all-powerful guidance things had become difficult. Sub-classes like goblins and gnomes had been at each other’s throats and much dissention in between the lower and higher races had been growing in general. Everyone had been preparing for war for what seemed like ages now, preparing to fight and re-conquer the lands which had been taken from them so long ago. Never had one of Tremos’s expeditions lasted as long as this last one had.

  With agitation rising throughout the realm, the Luminaries had decided to hold Council ahead of their usual schedule. The message had gone out and they had gathered. But nothing was being resolved. With Tremos so long departed, most of the Luminaries had begun to turn their attention towards protecting their own dominions. They were quick to forget that Tremos had gathered them all together when they were weak. Only together, under Tremos, in all his power and glory, would they conquer Lyrridia. Not a single race was strong enough alone to do any such thing. Without their Master to guide them, unite them, they would all quickly fall into petty exchanges that would turn into fights that would lead to battles that would escalate into wars. Sklan had grown tired of the arguments and had withdrawn to the balcony to think. But even on the balcony he faced distur
bance so he decided to return to the Council.

  Sklan’s dominion was over the grahk race. Legend claimed that their lineage could be traced back to a time when the great trug nation was divided by war, and many of the trug tribes were forced to migrate to a part of the land dominated by vast lakes and swamps. After hundreds of cycles stuck in the water they changed and adapted to their surroundings, but Sklan did not fully believe that claim. Grahks were a much more dignified race, higher up on the chain of status. They were water-based, scaly, reptilian, some fish-like, and dwelt in two great cities. Half the population lived just outside the massive fortress, always working to supply any needed hard work, strong warriors, or rare users of the arts. The rest dwelt in a vast underwater city in the dark lake nearby. As Emperor of the grahks, all of the accompanying problems of the race were Sklan’s responsibilities. As a grahk himself Sklan felt a strong brotherhood bond to his race and wanted his people to succeed. When his Master, The Great One, ruled all of Lyrridia, Sklan and his kind would be the first to receive glory and would be the greatest over all the rest. The only problem was that all of the other Luminaries wanted the same for themselves and their dominions.

  Sklan turned away from Duwarr and began the short walk back into the room.

  All the races were present, each with a Luminary and a host of appointees and other ambassadors from the various regions.

  Kalkra, the Luminary of the macji, or long-tails as many called them, sat in his chair with poise that appeared both graceful and deadly. His triangular shaped ears kept flattening on his head and the sunlight glinted off his yellow eyes. His body was covered with a thin, but fine, fur that was a dark grey on his back, fading to a silver on his sides, and a white belly. He wore little clothing due to the heat and the fact that he was already covered with fur. His loin cloth was a dark blue, contrasting with the golden rings on his arms and decorative gold and gem encrusted mantle about his shoulders. He had two female appointees sitting by his sides, both were dressed similarly to their leader, but with much less extravagance. One of the appointees had Kalkra’s tail in her hands and was gently stroking it. Kalkra appeared soothed by it.