She sat upon a delicately carved seat, brushing her hair with her back to him. Hair, the color of molten honey, flowed down past her shoulders to the middle of her back. Sajiix watched her face through the mirror as she continued to brush without noticing him. Her cherubic face was unblemished, her skin the color of peach cream. Almond shaped eyes of swirling brown and green finally noticed his entry, and she turned to face him, her smile coy and alluring at the same time. Kaelyn stood; the purple silk robe she wore clung loosely across her shoulders and was barely tied. The blazing fire in the nearby hearth showed Sajiix that she wore nothing underneath. Her curved figure was a point of envy for nearly every female that resided within the Arcanum and an object of desire for everyone else.
And she was his.
“Where have you been?” she asked as she crossed the room to him. Her voice betrayed her younger age. “I returned shortly after the storm began for my studies and found the balcony door wide open and my Dhama missing.”
He smiled at the way she used his official title of teacher as though their affair were still forbidden. And though it may be frowned upon, there was no written rule in the Arcanum codex that forbade the joining of a teacher and his apprentice.
Kaelyn reached out to Sajiix who took her gratefully into his arms. He held her tightly as her dark golden head lay upon his shoulder. The smell of sweetwater berries came to him in a rush, the fragrant fruit was a favorite of hers to use as a perfume. She kissed him, her soft lips eager and demanding. Sajiix returned her kiss hungrily, pulling her body closer, but he just as quickly broke away, knowing that he had to leave immediately. “I have been given an assignment,” he said with genuine regret. “I must journey to Kaalé with haste.”
Kaelyn arched an elegantly groomed eyebrow. “Kaalé? Is it serious?”
“Yes,” Sajiix answered as he turned from her and opened his wardrobe closet. “It seems someone has stolen the Purestone from the Zynnashans and they are invading Kaalmoore to find it.”
“My Gods,” Kaelyn whispered.
“Yes,” agreed Sajiix as he found his thick traveling cloak. “I am to try to convince King Jalled to mobilize his knights to protect the Kaalmoorian heartland.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Sajiix closed the door of his wardrobe and smiled. The girl was only twenty years old, two decades younger than he. Many of the Arcanum’s prominent members believed their relationship to be scandalous, a sinful union between a love-struck child and her deviant, lustful teacher. Sajiix laughed at the irony. In many ways, Kaelyn was more dedicated, tenacious, and competitive than he ever was. Her dogged chase of power would make most of her peers blanch in fear. Kaelyn was quite adept in her magic (one of the few reasons he accepted her application). She was a fast learner, eager, and skillful enough to use her physical talents to get what she wanted. A pleading glance, a hint of a smile, and a gentle touch would send dozens of men scurrying to bring her what she needed. But she used these talents sparingly, using instead her determination and intelligence.
“Keep a watchful eye on Margas,” he instructed. “He will be leaving soon. Make note of who goes with him.”
Kaelyn nodded, smiling as she pulled the traveling cloak out of Sajiix’s hands and tossed it to the floor. “It will be quite late when you reach Kaalé, my Dhama. Will the King grant you an audience so late in the night?”
Sajiix frowned. He had not thought of that.
“Is there nothing I can do to entice you to stay for just a few more hours?”
All thoughts of Kaalé fled his mind as Kaelyn’s robe slipped off of her shoulders and drifted gracefully to the floor.
5
Darkness.
It was the only way to stay hidden, to stay safe. The trees were thick here. They banded closely together, offering a protective wall from the river. No one would see them unless they were right on top of them. It gave Myst time to check on Tair’Lianne, to adjust her crude, hastily wrapped bandages. It gave her too much time to wonder if Tair would live through the night.
Myst had jumped clear of the fireball, but heard the screams of those that did not. She ignored them, ignored the burning bodies, the charred stench of death, for she knew that Tair lay ahead of her somewhere. She found her on the second tier, waiting for her. Clasping each other gratefully, the two forced their way into the chaos. All the upper tiers were now on fire. Every citizen of Valdine ran through the streets in a dance of hysterics and panic. It did not matter whether they were a poor fisherman or a wealthy merchant – no one was untouched by the attack.
It was on the fifth tier that another stream of flame stretched its burning fingers out to touch them. The fingers turned into a fist, hammering a two-story mercantile shop and showering the street below with massive chunks of debris. That was where Tair pushed Myst out of the way, where the wood and stone crashed down upon her friend.
Myst pulled her out from underneath the wreckage, ignoring the surrounding destruction. Tair was breathing, but she would not wake up. A trickle of blood flowed from her mouth while a huge gash allowed more to stream from the back of her head. Her left arm was at an odd angle as well. Myst did what she could, tearing strips of her blue cloak to wrap around Tair’s head. The heat from the flames grew too intense, however, and Myst had to pick up her friend and carry her further up the road. She had no time to consider if Tair was in serious pain; the town was burning, and she had a strong feeling that the creatures planned to leave few survivors.
Myst struggled on with Tair slung over her shoulder. The sheathed daggers Tair wore on her hips were digging into her neck and she was growing increasingly tired from the constant incline, but soon Myst reached the sixth and final tier of Valdine – and this, too, burned.
Flames danced upon tall buildings crafted from steelstone and oak. Clansmen and their ladies, dressed in the finest clothing of the day, ran chaotically through the upper-tiered streets. Guards from every clan had dropped their spears and took to fleeing the city, their masters cursing them for their cowardice. A noble few tried in vain to stem the wall of fire with buckets of water, but it was far too little for such great destruction. Myst forced her way through them, gagging at the rising smoke and kicking at anyone who got too close or jostled Tair.
Suddenly, the city was behind her. Ahead of her lay a road of hard-packed earth that weaved into the darkness, following the Tebis’non to her left. The conflagration behind her lit the immediate area, allowing her to see those people still running from Valdine. Some stood in a confused jumble, unsure what to do amidst the destruction and death. Myst carried Tair away from the entrance of the city, down to the river. Ignoring the babbling of three women nearby, Myst carefully laid Tair down, taking particular care not to move her injured arm.
The burning city gave ample enough light for Myst to see the extent of Tair’s injuries. The blood flow from the wound on her head had slowed significantly, but Tair’s face was the color of gray ash. She had already lost too much blood and Myst had no idea how to set or splint a broken bone. Tair needed a healer, but where to find one? There would be nothing left of Valdine before the night’s end.
Tugging a water skin from her pack, Myst dipped it in the cool water of the river. She could see the orange glow of the firelight flickering on the treetops across the Tebis’non. A continuous wall of smoke drifted lazily along the river, the smell of which intensified as it passed. Myst also noticed shapes floating in the water, unmoving, save for the tug of the current; the residents of Valdine. Myst quickly removed the water skin from the surface and clawed up the bank. They could get water elsewhere. There was no need to get it so close to the city, so close to the dead.
Myst knelt down once more and whispered to Tair, “I will get us to Tabaan. We will find a healer there.” Tair gave no response and Myst began the task of finding tree limbs long enough to build the frame for a litter. She wandered around the small perimeter, keeping close to her wounded friend. Eventually, Myst had to step de
eper into the trees, the shadows from the still-burning city making her search difficult. She finally found two tree branches that were thick and long enough to carry Tair the distance.
Myst shrugged off her blue cloak and began tearing off strips to use as binding for the smaller branches that would bear Tair’s weight. As she worked, she noticed the line of refugees coming out of Valdine began to thin. They filed out of the ornate archway that marked the city’s entrance as though in a trance. They no longer ran, they only marched in a confused and stumbling cadence that matched the person ahead of them. Reality would set in soon enough, and Myst knew she had little time before confusion turned to desperation. She had seen it often enough as a child living in a farming community. A severe winter or long-lasting drought could make a person do unthinkable acts to someone who might have more than they did.
Myst made sure the frame was secure enough and then used what was left of her cloak to pad the litter. Once finished, she moved to Tair who was still unconscious and pale, but her breathing seemed more relaxed. Myst had no idea if this was a good sign or a bad one. Either way, it was time to go and she had to risk moving Tair onto the litter to do so.
Crouching down, Myst cradled the young woman in her muscular arms and heaved gently. Tair moaned only once as Myst laid her upon the small pallet and looped two of her belts across Tair’s mid-section, keeping her body tight against the makeshift litter.
Just hang on, Myst thought as she positioned herself near Tair’s head. She adjusted her belongings and her sword harness, noting with some small wonder that her hands were shaking. Hoisting one end of the litter up by the two branches, Myst checked to ensure Tair was still secure and then began to trudge up the small rise to the main road.
She walked slowly, avoiding large dips or bumps upon the forest floor. A group of thirty to forty people stood beyond the archway of Valdine, watching the city burn. Myst examined them briefly for anyone who looked like a healer, but stopped halfway when she noted that many of them were wounded themselves, some seriously.
There were no healers here.
Releasing a sigh, Myst turned and headed south, pulling Tair behind her. Up ahead, she could see the faint glimmer of torch and lantern light carried by those fleeing the area. She set her eyes upon those lights and trudged forward, hoping to reach Tabaan by the time the sun colored the eastern sky.
***
Myst had no inkling as to how long she walked, but she knew it had to be well past midnight. Pain shot up her neck and back as she continued to drag Tair along the side of the road. She had stopped only once to check on her friend. Myst had caught up with the fleeing Valdinians who had paused to decide what they were going to do. They consisted of a group of servants who worked for the higher clans. As far as they knew, no one else had escaped. Discovering that none of the six refugees were skilled in the art of healing, Myst took the time to examine Tair herself. The head wound had stopped bleeding, but her breathing had grown shallow. Gritting her teeth, Myst plodded on with renewed speed.
The servants were well behind her now, the wispy lights of their lanterns marking their location as they moved along the dark, forested road. Every so often, Myst could hear the echo of heated voices arguing or the forlorn sobs of those unaccustomed to such tragedy. The rushing water of the Tebis’non flowed to Myst’s left, while the sharp cries of nocturnal creatures sounded to her right. All she had was the darkness, curtailed minutely by the stars shining beyond the dark canopy of trees above.
Myst could also hear Tair’s labored breathing.
“We must be close to Tabaan,” Myst spoke aloud, hoping her friend could hear it. “It didn’t take us too long to walk from there to Valdine.”
Tabaan was a small village that existed only due to its water mill that hugged the river. It was large enough, though, to support a town healer or shaman. There had to be one. If not, well, she didn’t care to think about what she would do then. She and Tair had stopped briefly in Tabaan on their way to Valdine. While there, the only building they had ventured into was a tavern. Tair had won them some silver crowns in a dagger toss, which they both promptly drank away. Myst smiled. Tair was never one to save money.
Stop that, Myst thought vehemently. She’s not gone yet. There is no need to talk as though she’s already dead. Myst dug her heels deeper into the packed dirt of the road, moving as fast as she dared with Tair behind her. She would not lose her best friend. Not this night. She and Tair had not come this far, had not endured so much during their ten year friendship, to have it ended by a fallen building.
Sudden screams from behind froze her. She nearly dropped Tair to reach for the hilt of her sword. Myst craned her neck to look behind and heard three more screams; each one different, each one a different person. The lanterns of the six servants blinked out one by one, their shouts ending just as abruptly.
Something was coming.
Myst searched for an opening between the thick tangle of woods on either side of the main road, anything to get them some sort of cover. She found a small gap between two thick redleaf trees and pushed beyond the scrub brush that surrounded them. She stumbled down a small hill, her arms and face scratched by branches and prickly bushes, all the while jerking and turning the litter, hoping she wasn’t further injuring her friend. Myst dragged Tair into a small clearing and set the litter down gently. She hoped that whatever had attacked the servants had not heard her crashing through the foliage like a drunken Bornosian miner. But just in case they had heard, Myst unsheathed the long dagger she wore on her right hip and crouched next to Tair. Her long sword would do her no good in such close quarters.
Myst calmed her mind and let go of all fear and doubt. It was an exercise her sword master had always insisted upon and it helped her to concentrate. But the darkness crept around her like a living thing; the forest became quiet and all she could hear was Tair’s uneven breathing. Myst felt her own heartbeat quicken, knowing that something was out there, watching her. At that moment, she wished Tair was awake. Myst was a skilled swordswoman and had had her fair share of close fights, but being alone in the dark with her best friend close to death – the thought of dying alone made her hands tremble even more.
Something stepped on the brush in the gap Myst had pushed through. She held the dagger higher, its point aimed at the rim of the small ridge above. “Come on, you bastard!” Myst shouted. “Don’t hide in the dark, come out and fight me with honor!”
A low growl caused Myst to gasp aloud. It was deep, animalistic, and sounded like thunder on a spring day.
“Can you fight in the dark, little human?”
The voice was filled with an almost gleeful malice. Myst fought back the urge to drop her dagger and run, but she knew she couldn’t leave Tair. She also had a feeling that the thing could catch her with relative ease.
“I could shred you to pieces before you could even scream,” the voice bragged. “I could be right behind you and you would not know it. And yet, you want me to fight honorably?” The creature emphasized the word not with disdain, but with incredulity. “Do you know how to fight with honor, human?”
“Care to find out?” Myst asked, trying desperately to control the shaking of her voice. She knew that it must be one of the cat-beasts that attacked Valdine and she could sense the creature was mocking her. She challenged the thing with a false bravado, feeling as though it were the only defense she had left.
The forest was suddenly bathed in a bright, bluish-white aura that emanated from a smooth crystal sphere floating high above. Myst raised her free hand before her, shielding her eyes from the sudden blast of light. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the creature before her.
It stood like a human and wore a voluminous cloak of brown wool. Underneath the cloak, in the light of the magical globe, Myst could see strips of brown linen wrapped around patches of gray and black fur. The cloak’s hood was pushed back, revealing a lupine face of gray, white, and black that stared at her with challenging eyes of bright molten ye
llow. Its muzzle was dark with the blood of its recent victims and a cruel smile curved along its face, exposing two rows of yellow fangs. It had long fingered hands instead of paws, one of which held a thick staff of smooth wood, while the other hand was held aloft from the act of tossing the sphere of light.
Myst took heart. The beast was using a quarterstaff, a weapon easily defended against with her dagger. She never thought to ask herself why such a monster would need a quarterstaff. Sadly, any rational thought fled Myst’s mind the moment the creature flung down the staff and extended long, curved talons from its fingers. Black as the night sky above, the wickedly sharp claws were flexed and prepped from both hands.
“Let us see what human honor is truly made of,” the beast sneered. A low growl then erupted from the thing’s barrel-sized chest as it crouched and leapt down the ridge towards Myst. Instead of backing away, Myst stepped in to surprise the creature and protect Tair at the same time. She swung her dagger up, its tip riping a long gash on the creature’s cloak. It landed awkwardly, having to adjust its aim to avoid Myst’s dagger. She turned to face it, doing her best to keep her fear at bay.
The beast snarled and lunged, bringing one of its claws low to disembowel the flame-haired warrior. Myst used the dagger to block the hand and hopefully remove it, but the creature’s long talons were as strong as steel. The wolf-thing struck quickly with its other arm and Myst was barely able to raise her dagger fast enough to deflect it. The beast attacked in a flurry of movements that she could barely see, its scythe-like claws coming one after the other like a deadly whirlwind.
Rage of the Diamond's Eye (The Guildsmen Series Book 1) Page 5