by Derek Barton
They were interrupted by a light knock on the door and a pensive, red-haired youth came in. Before the queen’s protests, the king called the boy forward. The servant rushed in and whispered a message into Captain Ruessard’s ear. The captain stiffened and his shoulders slumped. He waved the boy away who promptly fled through the door.
“My daughter has lost her husband this hour,” he stated in a coarse whisper.
Awkward silence and the depth of the news froze the meeting. It hung over their heads like an approaching storm.
Finally, Queen Demetryce cleared her throat and said, “I am sorry, Captain Ruessard. Our condolences for the loss of Lieutenant Jesswick. And… my apologies for my own emotions earlier.” She glanced at the king and paused to gather her thoughts.
“When did the last Horde March happen? Why does this march seem so different to you and your subordinates?” King Haedrec asked.
Bardun did not hear his inquiry. He stared into a corner, away inside his thoughts. Devin again intervened on his behalf and responded, “The last time we were actively attacked by a Horde March was four years back. These are animals and they behave like packs of wild dogs.”
“Normally,” the third soldier, Sergeant Blackstaff interjected. She leaned forward and pointed to a place on the map. “I personally spotted this tribe myself, Your Majesty.” Her finger pointed due south of the city and deep into the kingdom territory.
“They retreated immediately. It was like, they were testing us and letting us know how close they came without confrontation. Taunting us! I have never known them to act with such bold tactics and…intelligence.”
The king and queen sat in thought as did the soldiers. All took in the sight of the table and the myriad of Viestrahl Tribal Markers encircling the lands of Tayneva.
Deliah broke the silence, “Past marches were not too organized. It is usually…” she looked at her captain and waited for his nod of permission. “It is not usually reported to the Throne or Court as anything but a skirmish or a raid…in order to not worry the populac—.”
“—Or get unwanted attention from the Court?” Queen Demetryce interrupted sarcastically.
“Which is why we are coming to you now with this scouting report and these facts,” Captain Ruessard insisted. “We have to react now to this sudden newfound behavior.”
“Agreed. What do you propose, Captain?” King Haedrec asked.
“It might be time to inform the city and ask for a volunteer army. The Wyvernguard will be on hand for training and guidance on the battlefield, but our numbers are drastically low compared to the Viestrahl. I am confident that the landowners around the city will want to fight for their homes and farms. We should use that energy.”
“Our isolation from the other nations has always been a blessing and a curse to us. However, this time it would seem, I must inquire for any possible backup support I can. Are there any indications on when an attack or new march might happen?”
Ruessard shook his head negative. “We are missing something. My instincts tell me I am not prepared and we are missing something about these beasts. Where is this new strength or cunning coming from? King Haedrec, I would like to propose an action. If we can get a small group deep into the Vast, close to the heart of it all, we may learn their motivation. I…” he paused and looked at the queen first and then met the king’s eyes.
“Yes. Go on.”
“I want to ask you if Princess Letandra could lead the scouting party.”
“Now you go too far—”
The king waved the queen’s words away and said, “You have that much faith in her skills and her progress, Bardun?”
“Indeed, Your Majesty. With her abilities as a Mender and her fighting prowess, I feel she can bring back that information we desperately need.”
“I have trusted my armies and lands in your hands all these years. I want to trust you with the life of my daughter, but… I cannot make this decision lightly. Tayneva may have need of her in the near future.” The king’s face darkened with embarrassment and shame. Bardun knew it was not over his warrior daughter, but over his wayward son. Prince Taihven, who should be the obvious heir-apparent to the Throne, had become a sore point for the family. And Taihven’s malady had thrown a shadow of doubt over their future.
The queen squirmed with her own embarrassment and snapped, “This decision will take some time and your answer will come as soon as possible, Captain Ruessard. Thank you for your suggestion.” She emphasized the word suggestion with obvious disdain.
The king was beyond his own limits. “I will speak tonight with my daughter and get her assessment of her skills as well. I think it is time we adjourn. Thank you all for your reports.”
3#
Letandra’s grip on the smooth hewn-rope slipped a bit due to the First Light’s dew. Her arms were already numb and she was beyond exhaustion. She breathed heavily and glanced down at the rocky ground far below her. She hung with her back against the castle wall under her bedroom patio.
A minute later, The princess pushed off; trusting the grappling hook would hold its purchase above, swung to the vine trellis conveniently placed near her bedroom and lifted a leg up and over the patio railing. She sat back upon the smooth stone, stared down at her muddy boots and breathed a deep sigh.
In spite of the odds, she had searched for Taihven and spent hours looking in the treetops of the forests. She wondered how many sleepless nightfalls like this had she trailed after her younger brother? How often did she have to cover for him or even gotten blamed for something he damaged during his manic episodes? She shrugged her shoulders in frustration.
Taihven had started showing signs at an early age, sometime after his fourth year. His eyes would glaze and dull, his jaw would droop and he would drift into a “daydream”. He would giggle and play with imaginary toys or animals. When he was older, he would argue or fight with unseen individuals. Letandra was frequently forced to watch over the child Prince. After a few times Taihven’s fantasies had gotten pretty physical, nannies would find convenient reasons to stop watching the child.
She did not mind when the extra duties got her out of boring court affairs. Her parents turned a blind eye to their child’s behavior or made excuses for his acts. In secret, the royal family sought the advice from sages, menders and mages. No one had answers for them other than “your son was born flawed, broken”. It was a source of embarrassment and especially infuriated her mother. While it made Letandra protect him more, it disgusted and distanced Queen Demetryce from her child. As brother and sister, they were very close, but his powers would horrify her. She feared that some day in an episode he would kill someone or hurt himself.
The day that King Haedrec enrolled Taihven into the Evoker Mage Hall, she emphatically protested.
“Think! What could an Evoker King do for the Artadeus Throne?” he had argued. “He would be a critical force and ruler for this kingdom.”
Very few times had she found fault with her king and father. But this time, her instinct was that he was endangering Taihven and potentially the kingdom. As an Evoker Mage, he would wield powerful invocation spells based in the elements of the earth.
She feared that it could spiral into a downfall into madness or tyranny. King Haedrec was a proud man and was in open denial about his son’s malady and let his ego dictate. His life was a legend; a legend that he worked to continue long after him.
“I saved you some of the biscuits, but they are pretty much rocks.” Taihven’s voice spoke out from the dark entry to her room.
She ignored the taunt and looked back over her shoulder at the sunrise. The rays falling upon her face brought life back into her. His steps echoed as he returned to her bedroom and shut the door. She crossed the small patio and found him leaning on her oak armoire in the corner.
“Father knocked on your door about thirty-some minutes ago. I doubt you are going to be allowed to ‘sleep-in’. Something big has started and—”
“—I do not ca
re. I am really done in right now. Now go, please!”
“I beat you back here hours ago, Lennie.” He chuckled.
She ignored him again and his nickname for her. Many times they enjoyed a back-and-forth jibe contest, but this was not like most mornings. Letandra sent him another warning by throwing her boots and gloves to the floor. “It is not like I could sprout wings to get me back here,” she snapped at him.
Taihven’s jaw dropped in surprise and his words failed him. He stared at her in disbelief. “Did—did I actually change? You saw me?”
Letandra turned from him, hiding the dread etched on her face. “I am not sure. It was dark…”
“I cannot remember anything. Only what happened in my mind. I woke in the Dannington Fiel—”
“—You were not seen?” She locked eyes with his.
He shook his head no, but he was holding back the whole story.
“Just go! I have a couple of hours tops to myself.” She scolded him. “I am tired of your secrets today!”
Her words made him blanch and he turned for the door.
“Sorry, Taihven,” she apologized as she slouched onto her bed. “What happens with you is so scary. I try to—”
“—You need to stop following me! I will be fine and you are only endangering yourself.”
“It is not only you I am protecting.”
#4
The king had been awake for hours, lying motionless next to his wife and listening to her breathe. Her breathing was calm, steady and constant. It had a soothing element for him. Demetryce was the exact opposite. Haedrec knew the real person inside, hidden and shielded. The queen of the land was feared and sometimes hated. It saddened him how she forced or refused all avenues to make amends.
His health had deteriorated and he was dying from the Withering Disease, fading like a burning candle. He welcomed these early hours of the day. These moments of clarity he appreciated and it gave him time to reflect. The opportunities to plot the future were running short. Haedrec did not fear death; he feared what he could not complete.
How can there be peace of mind, he wondered to himself. His own trust in his family was completely gone. His wife was a cold, stubborn force in the Court and dictated rulings with an iron hand. Tayneva was sure to lose its footing in diplomatic standings amongst her allies. His son, although powerful in magical skills, lacked the mental capacity to focus those talents. And his daughter with the strongest links to the citizens due to her Mending status and her accomplishments with the Wyvernguard, liked to disappear in the middle of the nightfall.
Within the twilight of his rule upon the Throne, the Artadeus family had lost the populace’s respect and faith.
He sighed in frustration and woke Demetryce. “Must you do that! I hate it when you stare at me while I sleep,” She rolled away from him and onto her shoulder.
“I have decided that I am going to let Letandra go on the mission for Captain Ruessard.
“You talked with her?”
“No, but he is right. We will need that information and it requires a strong unit to get it and bring it back to us.”
Demetryce rolled back and faced him. “You cannot risk her! You would gamble the Throne on a—”
“—I know what I risk!” The pained, angry look in his eyes stopped her from continuing.
She re-started in a quieter tone, “I am just worried. I will not… will not be strong enough to handle everything should your health worsen.”
“I understand.” He responded. “Look, I know you doubt Taihven’s stability, but Tayneva needs a leader, a figure to look to and a king to put faith behind. With you and Letandra behind him, he can be that and be what is needed.”
She once again put her back to him. “No, he is not fit. Taihven is more—”
“—He is our son!” The king left the bed, snatched his robe off the bedpost and stormed to the door. “If I cannot believe in him running the Throne, at least give me the hope that you and Letandra will!”
He slammed the door behind him, brushed past the guards at their door and marched to his personal office and library. Haedrec needed to find his secret pipe stash in the book shelves. The reports from the war meeting made that morning especially pressing and he felt the entire weight of his people upon his shoulders. In the last of his days, would he live only to witness the ruin to his family reign and all that he worked so hard for?
PART II – A MOTHER’S CARE:
Night of Abriddine 21st~~
#1
Frosted gorge walls thrummed as the Viestrahl clubbed their feet and smashed the ground with gnarled hands. They hung from rock outcrops and clung to the stone peaks within an ancient, mammoth crater. At its heart, hundreds sat and waited around a deep pool of water which pierced its center. Sharp hisses echoed along the crater walls as the beasts stared each other down. Black, barbed tails flicked out and whipped back and forth in the electrified air. Venom and spittle dripped down from their open jaws.
The Viestrahl were limited vocally and mostly used a hand sign language to communicate. A lone animal, towering, grey-white male strode forward to the edge of the pool. Ramnetha’s chest was bare except for a pair of black metal loop piercings high upon his breast. On his gorilla-like body and arms were a set of crisscrossed, bone armor plates beneath a black, hooded robe. Behind him, he dragged a chain fastened to a pair of massive, fanged skulls.
A trio of imposing grey males that loomed a foot taller than the normal stock of Viestrahl crawled behind, following him. Each wore amber gemstones that were inset on metal arm bands. They made up the Ramnethas’ Konn-Cabal. They were the seasoned commanders of the smaller tribes that Ramnethas had “united” with his own tribe.
He signed, “I have called for this gathering as you remain the last tribes to hold out on our advance upon Wyvernshield. I am here since you have refused to respond to the missives I have sent.”
Ramnethas leaned over and pointed at a pair of smaller males. One had reddish short fur; the other was marked tan and silver fur. “Shamans!” he barked and then pointed to the ground before him. They worked their way to him.
He continued his signing, “The day has come for our God Orna Kah. Through His vessel He will lead us to great victories. Do you not see the wisdom in the words of Gru'Renthral?”
Glowering at the massive gathering around him. “These are our lands and this human intrusion is an affront to Him. We are but Orna Kah’s instruments. Gru’Renthral will come tonight for you to bear witness and to heed his power.”
The two shamans knelt down with their heads bowed as he paced back and forth before them.
“Can you explain your impudence?”
The reddish male on the left responded, “Ramnethas, we trust in the guidance of Orna Kah. Together, the Pfefrik and Chadon Clans will stand shoulder to shoulder with you.” He glanced up to see the reaction to his speech. After a short pause, “You have called us forth to aide you with your instructions?”
“Indeed, I have.”
Ramnethas stood over them, silent and imposing. He lifted his gaze from the prone creatures to the rest of the tribe members gathered.
The other, tan and silver Viestrahl started. “It is only that the appearance of Gru’Renthral seems rather conv—”
Ramnethas swung the chain with the skulls high over his head and slammed them down onto the shamans. They writhed and screeched, impaled by the tusk-like fangs. Streams of black ichor oozed and poured out of their broken bodies and flowed into the pool water.
Immediately, the clan factions of black beasts protested in violent outrage. Ramnethas did not even flinch; simply kicked the bodies over into the water like trash. The pool water thickened and coalesced, as it reacted to the running ichor. Inside, bubbles of molten silver rose to its surface and congealed.
Blasting a fierce roar back at the packs, their leader shot a hand high up; pumped it three times over his shoulder.
“Defy me? Defy my hand!” he roared over the noise. He swung wit
h all his might the chained skulls into the air arcing into a circle. The skulls came to life, glowing and vibrating as they passed overhead. He released the heavy chains and the fanged skulls hovered on their own, encircling the terrified animals.
“Gru’Renthral come to us! Bring us Orna Kah’s Commands!”
Ramnethas’ Konn-Cabal of Three started to chant “Gru’Renthral” and stomp the ground. Red, black-tipped flames engulfed the skulls. Tendrils of fire crept down the chains and snaked all around him. The Viestrahl could only gaze, enthralled by this daunting feat of sorcery. Magic was alien to most of them and its use was done in secret.
A metallic platform formed and started to rise as a staircase descended underneath and into the pool waters.
The fire that blanketed Ramnethas soaked into his body. The fierce Viestrahl glowed a ruby color as he waded out and climbed the staircase to the center of the platform.
At the top, the reddish light washed over the entire gorge. His audience fully mesmerized watched as he raised his fists to the sky and cried again, “Gru’Renthral!”
Ramnethas rocked back and forth as his ape-like features rippled and morphed. His oval head and jaws sunk into his broad shoulders as a lump of pale fish-like flesh sprouted and extended. A new, elongated head grew, but was featureless except for silver eyes and a lipless mouth. Charcoal black, thin legs erupted from his sides and Ramnethas fell forward upon them. His body had mutated into something half-humanoid and half-spider.
The bizarre aberration emitted a buzzing, sickening screech. ”Through this vessel, our God has been reborn. I am Gru’Renthral!”
The new form of Ramnethas pointed a white knobby finger out at the tribes. “I have chosen your fate, Pfefrik and Chadon!” the animals squirmed under his gaze.
“I am the Maw and Fist of Orna Kah, but you will become His Fangs and Claws!”
“Asiicaarde Los!” The spoken word component of his spell echoed like a thunderclap in the crater. The words washed over the tribes.