Remnants of the Order

by Hamish Spiers

  Heartened by the news that they would soon be on their way, the party had a simple meal of fruit and grain and then they were ready to leave. Amoraak led the group himself and several other Ulak warriors accompanied them, bringing bows, spears and, to Lorial’s puzzlement, goat carcasses.

  “What are they for?” she asked.

  “They’re bait for the Korlaki,” Amoraak replied. “If we can draw it out into the open, we’ll have a better chance of fighting it.”

  “You want to fight it?”

  “We mean to kill it,” Amoraak said.

  Lorial fell silent. Obviously, the Ulak had to deal with the threat this creature posed to their safety but if Ishtvan were right – and the remaining Korlaki were relics of a bygone age – then any one of them that was still alive could well be the last of their kind. She contemplated these thoughts for some time as they walked along the trail.

  Soon, they were following the western path that would lead them over the mountains. The pathway followed a ridgeline and was surprisingly easy to negotiate but even so, it still involved a lot of walking. And when night fell, they still had a long way to go.

  The following night, there was no rest to be had. They were in the Korlaki’s territory.

  “We’re very close now,” Amoraak said. “There’s a small crevice ahead that we must pass through. It’s one of the Korlaki’s haunts.”

  The terrain on both sides of the path was now getting steeper and up ahead, it meandered into the darkness with scree covered slopes to either side. Lorial swallowed.

  Around her, the Ulak warriors lifted the goat carcasses they had been carrying off their backs.

  “And now,” Amoraak told her, “we will lay down our own trap.”

  Lorial drew her sword from its sheath and held it at her side. She saw that Keld did the same, while Ishtvan and Amoraak reached for their bows.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “We run,” Amoraak told her and shot off down the pathway.

  Lorial and the others followed, sprinting as fast as they could. As they ran, the Ulak men threw the goat carcasses behind them, leaving a trail along the path. Then just as suddenly as he had started off, Amoraak stopped and signaled the others to do so as well. As one, the group turned back to look at the path and were confronted with a terrifying sight. The goat carcasses were all gone.

  There had been plenty of moments in Lorial’s life when she had been afraid but they all paled into nothing compared to this.

  Then a gigantic clawed hand plunged down from above and snatched an Ulak warrior from the path, crushing him.

  A volley of arrows flew through the air and Lorial would have screamed but terror trapped the sound in her throat.

  Now the party knew where the Korlaki was, just above them on the right side of the path. They restrung their bows and watched the steep slope above them. They heard a few pebbles fall behind them and whirled around to look. Then they heard a sound from farther up the path and they turned back again. Amoraak lowered his bow and pulled out his spear, motioning everyone to be quiet. He then stepped back and hurled the weapon over the embankment.

  A moment later, there was a terrible shriek of anger. The sound pierced their ears and rang between the nearby mountain peaks. Then the great beast itself appeared, leaping down on the path in front of them for all to see.

  It was enormous. Leaning over on its hind legs, it stood five yards high at the shoulder with long double– elbowed arms dangling beneath it, balanced by a stumpy bone tail. Its head and shoulders were encased in bony armor that grew out of its thick leathery grey skin. Massive horns protruded forward from its skull, its long elongated claws scraped the pathway and its yellow eyes were hidden deep within its skull, watching them with anger from their dark recesses.

  The Ulak warriors fired another volley at it. Some arrows bounced off its skull, while others penetrated the deep folds of its skin. The creature bellowed with frustration then tried to lunge at them but the ferocity of the Ulak assault drove it back. Then disappeared once more behind the embankment.

  Once more, the group waited, wondering when it would strike next.

  Again, it was Amoraak who made the next move, not only demonstrating how skilled a warrior he was but showing Lorial why the other Ulak followed him so loyally.

  He picked up a left–over goat carcass and threw it down the path. Then a moment later, he had his bow at the ready, aiming at the top of the embankment. The Korlaki appeared once more, snatching the meat at lightning speed but Amoraak was faster, shooting an arrow straight into its eye as it grabbed the carcass.

  In its pain and fury, the Korlaki dropped the meat and stood at its full height, letting out an agonized roar. Lorial pitied the bewildered creature as she watched it retreat, scurrying up the slopes and stumbling down the other side. It roared once more, whimpered and then it was gone, limping into the darkness to die in peace. And whether it was the last of its kind or not, no one ever knew.

  The Ulak did not celebrate. When the Korlaki had gone, Amoraak put his hand on Keld’s shoulder. “We must return to the village now,” he told him. “And I must tell Kaatib’s mother that her son is dead.”

  Keld nodded. “I am sorry. He was a brave fighter.”

  “As are all our sons,” Amoraak said. “We shall have a feast in his honor. You however have an urgent errand so you must keep going. Don’t rest here tonight. Rocks sometimes fall near here. Just keep going a little longer. You’re almost out of the mountains now.”

  “Thank you again, Amoraak,” Keld said. “You’re a good friend.”

  Amoraak smiled and clasped Keld’s hand in his own in parting. He and the other Ulak then nodded in farewell to Lorial and Ishtvan and headed back up the path on their journey home.

  V. Ensari

  On the morning of the following day, Lorial, Ishtvan and Keld entered a quiet little riverside and found a man sitting by a small sailing boat.

  “Good morning,” Ishtvan greeted him. “Is this the Vineyards River ferry?”

  “Aye, that it is, kind sir,” the man replied with a cheerful smile and just a hint of a local accent. “And where can I take you folk?”

  As the morning sun rose high above, the boat reached the rushing clear waters of the Ismene River, already over two hundred yards wide at this point, of which the Vineyards River was just a tributary. There were many other ships on the river now as well and Lorial, Ishtvan and Keld passed a number of small towns where more were launching. And the following day, they reached Ensari.

  To either side of the river, the grounds before Ensari were flat with many roads while the many towers of the city were built among forest covered hills with the Ismene River running through the middle of them. Raised promenades on bridges ran between the towers, with everything made from glistening white stone, while wide cobblestone streets wound through the city and around the hills. And throughout it all were lush gardens and fountains too numerous to count.

  At some stages along its path through the city, sandy beaches lined its edges. In others, there were moorings for ships and in some places, stone steps descended into the river and many people walked down them to bathe in its clear waters.

  Soon the Vineyards River ferry was moored and Lorial, Ishtvan and Keld paid the owner for the trip. Ishtvan then turned to his companions. “Well, let’s not keep her majesty waiting.”

  “This is incredible.”

  Queen Heptapshu sat across from Lorial and her companions, her legs folded and her hands draped over the arms of her seat. Behind her, a balcony overlooked the city’s harbor where hundreds of Ilara’s ships were moored.

  This was the most powerful person in the lands to the west of Cirreone and its allies. She was also a direct descendant of the Khalahi king who had come to Ensari’s aid in the first great war, when it had been controlled by men allied with the fallen mages. And like so many of either whole or partial Khalahi ancestry, she had perfect ebony skin and dark soulful eyes; and although they said
nothing, neither Keld nor Ishtvan could help admiring her beauty. However, what Queen Heptapshu was most renowned for was her strong but kind leadership.

  “And it is drastic,” she said after a few more moments. “The Aracean Empire and the Angdar, whether they are working independently of each other or working in tandem, are forcing us into a full scale war. This will make it very difficult to persuade Cirreone’s envoys to return to the table.” She shook her head. “The last ones I met said nothing of this. I thought we were making better progress. Clearly, I was wrong.”

  “They’re still caught up in the past,” Keld said. “Blaming the handful of surviving mages of the order for the crimes of that small group that left it. And they hate us because of our past associations with mages.”

  “And our present associations,” Heptapshu reminded him with a smile. “But yes, I understand your feelings on the matter. Most people in Ilara share them. However, it’s not entirely irrational. Their people suffered immensely in the past because of fallen mages like Askenroth and they have strong memories.”

  Keld nodded. “You’re right of course. But it’s difficult to empathize, particularly if they are in fact allied with the Angdar.”

  “Yes,” Heptapshu agreed. “Although that remains to be seen.” She then stood up. “In the meantime, my friends, I thank you for all you have done to bring me this news. It may save many lives. Now, I have a lot to do. I must alert the mages, prepare contingents to head for Ensildahir and Berring’s Cove, prepare the fleet and send a message to King Ashaki in Khalahi.” She smiled. “I will have rooms prepared for you here in the palace.”

  VI. The Mages

  The falcon soared through the air with speed and grace until it passed over a massive lake which ended in a series of waterfalls plummeting down cliffs and steps into the darkness of a forest. The falls of Esmael.

  Here the bird dived, swooping under the canopy of the trees where the waters at the foot of the falls rushed away. Around the stream were the fountains of Loma’rei, which had once been the centerpiece of the massive gardens of Issalia. Long ago, they had sprayed water high into the air in ever–changing patterns. Now they were dried out, little more than moss covered sculptures, but the beauty of the ancient gardens still lingered there in the unspoiled sanctuary.

  The falcon alighted on one of these moss blanketed sculptures and a woman approached it. While her skin was smooth and her lips were full, there was a wisdom in her gaze beyond her apparent youth and the full effect of these incongruities made her appear at once both young and ageless.

  “Hello, my friend,” the woman said, stroking the bird’s feathers.

  The falcon raised one leg, allowing her to remove the message that was secured there.

  “From Queen Heptapshu,” she murmured.

  Once the falcon had alighted and disappeared, she headed up a path beside the cliffs that wound its way to the lake.

  Morgiana Kyndeera sat on a rock ledge on the slope of a grassy mountain. The great lake that fed the falls of Esmael lay below and several mountains rose above her to the north, while a few smaller mountains lay to the south on the other side of the falls.

  Morgiana was watching a little sparrow dancing on the ledge in front of her. For many long years she had possessed the ability to call wild animals to her with her thoughts and she could communicate in this way over great distances as well if there were others who knew how to hear them.

  Unfortunately, that was the difficulty. She had spent some time trying to train her mentor Sól Eydís in this but the skill did not come easily to her. And Tal was more the warrior than the scholar and she had had less luck with him than the others still. Young Karn however showed promise. He’d be one to watch, she knew.

  She put the thought aside and focused on the sparrow in front of her. This morning, she was trying something new.

  As the bird watched her, she tried to see what it saw through its own eyes. It was a strange sensation. While she still saw the bird in front of her and the mountain valley stretching ahead, she also saw herself from the sparrow’s perspective looking down with her dark eyes beneath thick wavy hair... and she saw Sól coming up the path.

  While it was somewhat amusing for her, Morgiana found the sensation dizzying and she decided to try the next trick she had in mind. Shifting her focus, she called on the sparrow to remember.

  This was even more odd and it seemed strange for the bird too. It cocked its head to one side as if puzzled, but it seemed willing to go along with Morgiana and recall things for her. Then Morgiana saw the ground moving away, but not too far. It was after all a sparrow, not an eagle, that was sharing its memories with her. She then saw mountain flowers and blades of grass and glimpses of sky. Then, with a smile, she let the little bird fly away and stood up to see Sól.

  “What is it today, Morgiana?” Sól asked. “Healing techniques?”

  “That was yesterday,” Morgiana replied with a smile. “Today, I was seeing things the sparrow remembered.”

  “That could be useful,” Sól commented.

  “Maybe,” Morgiana said with a smile. “However, I do like to try new things with the gift. You lot have your skills and interests. I have mine.”

  “I hope that, someday, your skills will be the ones in greater demand.”

  “It’ll happen,” Morgiana told him. “I believe it.”

  “I believe it too,” Sól said. She then frowned. “I got a message from Queen Heptapshu.”

  “Did you?”

  Sól gave her a wry grin. “I would appear we have been summoned. With Tal off fighting Angdar somewhere and Karn nowhere to be found.”

  Morgiana nodded. She got the message.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she said.

  In the eastern land of Carcasia, a lord lounged in a inside his luxurious home, sharing drinks with a guest after discussing some business. A series of loud knocks on the door interrupted them.

  “What is this?” he muttered, climbing out of his chair with considerable effort. There was another vicious bout of knocking before he made it to the door.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” he bellowed as he swung it open, filling the space with his large imposing frame. However, if he had been hoping to intimidate the person who had disturbed him, it hadn’t worked. The cloaked figure standing in his doorway didn’t budge.

  “Lord Ardenhal?” the stranger asked, his stern voice slightly muffled by a scarf that covered most of his face.

  “What is a Shavla doing at my house?” the lord demanded, trying to regain some of the authority he had tried to muster. The Shavla were something like secret police, protecting the borders of the lands of Aracea and its allies like Carcasia. What they actually did, Lord Ardenhal didn’t know, although he knew they hunted down rogue mages. But the thought that one of these cloaked freaks should come looking for him, a well–respected lord, was a grave insult to his pride.

  From within the shadows of his hood, the Shavla spoke. “Be silent. If there are questions to be asked, then I will ask them. You have recently acquired a document through Lord Eresdrac. It was given to you in error. I hope you still have it.”

  “I understood Marshal Artaeis himself arranged for me to have it.”

  “As I said,” the Shavla replied. “An error.” He adjusted the glove on his right hand, revealing a steel ring set with an onyx. A symbol of authority known as the Black Circle. He was a Shavla captain then. And that was something to be wary of.

  Lord Ardenhal knew that the ring had not been revealed to him unintentionally. He swallowed.

  “I will fetch it at once,” he said.

  When he had left the lord’s home with the map, the Shavla captain made his way through the streets of the small seaside town and headed into the wooded hills behind it. In the night, he was just another silhouette against a backdrop of many.

  Then emerging from the forest amongst rolling hills, he approached a steed that stood untethered, chewing the grass.

  Th
e man threw off his hood and smiled. A young man, twenty–two years of age.

  “Karn.”

  He stopped, hearing the voice in his head. Then he concentrated. He knew how to do this. Morgiana had taught him and, fortunately, she was skilled enough at it that she could assist him.

  “Something came up,” he replied, his words unspoken. “A document has been distributed amongst the towns here, listing places where some of us may have been recently seen. I wanted to see whether or not it was accurate. It may be useful to know.”

  “And was it?” Morgiana asked.

  “I haven’t read it yet,” Karn told her. “I have only just retrieved it.”

  He sensed Morgiana’s amusement. “How?”

  “I posed as a Shavla captain and asked a lord to hand it over to me.”

  “And how did you pose as a Shavla captain?”

  “I killed one and took his clothes,” Karn said.

  “That’s no small feat.”

  “Well, I aim to please,” Karn replied. He looked at the ring on his right hand. “The ring is rather stylish actually. I might keep it.”

  “I’m sure it will make a nice keepsake,” Morgiana told him. “You are needed though. Meet me on the eastern bank of the Raeuben River at our usual place. Sól and I will join you there. Wait for us if you arrive there first.”

  Two men on horseback spoke by the banks of the Raeuben River. One was of a large broad build with long thick brown hair. The other was a shorter but well–built man, a villager from the local area, grizzled with age and someone who had seen his fair share of danger over the years.

  “Thank you for your help back there,” he said to the first man. “We’ve had it with the Angdar around here, I can tell you.”