The Redemption of Wist Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3: The complete collection

by David Gilchrist

  He had expected the Krowen to rush at them – to break their group. Instead, it shot its clawed arms upwards and barked at the sky. In answer to his summons, two streaks of living magma erupted from the depths of the desert, a yard from its grotesque body. The reptilian creature thrust its arms out and directed the writhing veins of fire at the party. In unison, they sped across the sand - one aimed at him and the other at Dregan and Nikka – leaving glistening, fulgurite channels as they went. With its summoning at an end, the Krowen fell on to its belly and sped at the Lyrat pair, using its powerful limbs to propel its bulk.

  Wist felt Aviti join him as the burning line of immolation approached. Instinctively, he grabbed Aviti and threw her to the ground as the acrid stream of fire leapt to consume them.

  Nikka and Dregan fared little better in the initial assault. Dregan managed to repel the Krowen's summoned ally, but only after Nikka had attempted to halt its progress his hammer. It had passed straight through its target and had resulted in Nikka burning his hands and being forced to drop his weapon momentarily. His unwise attack had bought Dregan sufficient time to magically propel the living fire back past its point of origin. He shouted to Nikka, warning him against further physical attacks on the fire. Nikka grinned back at the Mage through his pain, showing him that he had learned his lesson. Their adversary circled in the desert and, as it swung about to face them, it plunged below the surface of the sand.

  The Krowen leapt at Faric and Tyla in an effort to bring the Lyrats down and kill them quickly. With their bond broken, this fight could not be one of spectacular beauty and interwoven counter-attacks; it began as one of discipline and memory, technique and habit. The Lyrats parted as the Krowen pounced – evading the blunt assault. But they had overlooked the Krowen’s powerful tail, which whipped across at Faric as it passed, the dark barbs raking his chest. Faric spun with the force of the blow, denying the Krowen’s intention of pulling him to the ground. He staggered back away from Tyla – anger and shock darkening his face. The Lyrat pair centred themselves and prepared to take the initiative. The human-lizard hybrid rolled around to face them, pulling its tail under itself. The Lyrats prepared to strike, but bereft of their almost telepathic understanding, the chance to shift the momentum of the battle was lost and the Krowen attacked once more. If Faric and Tyla could not adapt their style of fighting, then the Krowen, full of unmitigated fury, would slaughter them.

  As Aviti regained her feet, she saw the convulsing stream of magma bury its way into the sand. It had passed so close to her that she was certain her face must be burned as badly as Kerk's. The pain had to be ignored though, otherwise they were lost.

  She tried to follow the bulge in the sand as it intermittently neared the surface of the desert. Searching within herself for the trigger that would release her fury and magic, she stood motionless awaiting the attack. Wist shifted his balance from one foot to the other, weaving uncertain patterns in the air with the tip of his sword. She briefly thought of telling him to join the Lyrats and leave her, but she knew he would stay by her side. He still shouldered the blame for her fall into the Corb. She chided herself for allowing her focus to drift when her next move would determine their fate. The desert floor bulged a dozen paces ahead, tracing a line straight for them. When the fiery serpent re-emerged from the sand, only a few strides from her, Aviti found what she had been searching for: the key to her magic.

  Unfettered anger erupted from her: a stream of fire bursting from her outstretched hands. Its yellow-streaked fury collided with the dark orange molten summoning with a deafening concussion. Aviti released her clenched breath as she saw their assailant turn aside from its path. A wave of euphoria passed through her, spiked with pain, but it was short-lived. She watched saw as yellow mottled stripes appeared on the burning snake’s length. It had absorbed her magic; used it as sustenance. She had only delayed their demise, and perhaps ensured the rest of the party would be slain too.

  The second line of animate fire had taken longer to turn than the first, allowing Dregan to witness Aviti’s failure. He took this opportunity to tell Nikka to aid the Lyrats; either he would overcome his opponent or it would claim him, the dark dwarf could not participate in this fight. He shouted Aviti’s name so she could learn from what he was about to attempt. If he failed then she could bear witness to his death – for the brief time that would remain to her. Dregan focussed on his target as it approached, aware of Nikka as he scampered across to aid Faric and Tyla. The theory of what he was about to attempt was faultless; transforming that into action was a daunting prospect. He was out of time to formulate an alternative; he would succeed or -

  Tyla and Faric slashed at the Krowen as they shifted apart. Their accustomed fighting style had failed them, so they attempted to adapt to their new ground. Desert life taught and re-taught them the lesson they needed to survive: nothing was permanent – only those that could conform to its whims could hope to live.

  The Krowen feigned an attack at Tyla, only to lash out at Faric with its tail - cutting his arm deeply. The paradigm shift that had occurred when the Lyrats’ bond had been severed was proving too vast for them to bridge. The only communication between them during fighting had been part of that subconscious, umbilical link. To defeat this enemy, they would need to learn to talk – to shout - to cry out. They would need to learn to use their eyes and ears to make them aware of their partner’s position and intent. There was not enough time.

  Blood splattered the desert floor as Nikka arrived beside Faric. Nikka glanced at the crimson fluid that had marked his boots. It was not the first time he had been marked by blood, but it had been some time since it had been a comrade – if a mercenary could truly have comrades. The Krowen withdrew a step as it took in the new threat and Nikka took advantage of the gap to shout instructions to the Lyrats. The Lyrats may know their adversary, but it was apparent to Nikka that they were on the cusp of losing this fight. He raised his recovered hammer and bared his teeth at the feral beast, which stared back at him.

  A line of flame reached out from the fire-snake to Dregan’s outstretched hands. At first Aviti thought that this was a new tactic that the serpent had unveiled, but then she realised what the mage was doing. He had learned from her mistake. He was not trying to destroy the creature with an outpouring; rather he was drawing its energy – its essence - into himself. He understood the nature of their foe. This was not a corporeal entity that assailed them, it was energy; guided and driven, but insentient and without substance. She gaped at the power he drew into himself. Surely, he would be consumed? No mortal could hope to contain such force. But he continued to accept the ingress of fire until his assailant had been extinguished. The instant the stream of fire abated, he threw his hands skyward and released the fire that he had absorbed. She tore her sight away from the black-robed mage in time to see the sand swell a few paces in front of her. She threw Wist from her side to give her the room she would need.

  Wist fell to the sand, unprepared for the sudden shove. He rolled in the direction he had been pushed and found that he stood a single step from Faric. Torn between rejoining Aviti in a battle he could not influence and aiding the friends that had saved him from death time and again, he was paralysed by indecision once again. This time Aviti took the choice from his hands; she began to pull the life from the fire-snake. He turned his back on her – consigning her to her fate - and moved over beside Faric, joining Tyla and Nikka who were now circling the frantic Krowen.

  Nikka controlled that fight now, instructing each of the party, telling them where to strike and in what order, constantly in communication. With Wist completing the circle around the Krowen and blocking any potential escape route, the party scored a myriad of quick, stinging strikes against the reptile, weakening the beast and transforming its rage to terror. Wist felt a flash of sympathy for the creature. Surrounded and doomed, the Krowen resembled an animal backed into a corner. Its rage had been a bluff, a show of strength to scare off intruders. When Aviti
expelled the life of the last summoned fire serpent into the sky, Nikka yelled to Wist to kill the Krowen.

  The Krowen reeled from its injuries. Wist raised his sword to sever the beast from its life, but the blade never made contact. He withdrew his blade and stepped back from the Krowen as it stumbled around to face him, its reptilian face frozen, incapable of displaying emotion. It saw the gap and – summoning the last of its strength - made a desperate bid for freedom. For a heartbeat, Wist thought the creature might make a lunge for him, to fulfil a hidden purpose, but it broke past him and fell on to the sand, scurrying away into the distance.

  Dregan was the first to speak, moving over to the four combatants who had faced down the Krowen. ‘Why did you not kill it?’ he asked furiously. ‘I did not hazard my life at your expense for you to simply cast it aside because you lack the courage to do what you must!’

  Nikka stepped between Dregan and Wist. ‘The Krowen will be lucky to survive with the injuries we inflicted upon it. Besides, it will not return unless we dally here for many days. Let us not waste our time fighting amongst ourselves. Check yourself for any injuries that need tending. We must leave as soon as we can.’

  Dregan bit down the words he had been about to say. It was Faric who spoke in his stead.

  ‘This confirms what I have feared from the outset. We have been led like cattle – pulled along from place to place. Until now, each of our encounters has been dropped in our path.’

  Wist stared numbly at Faric. He'd been hoping that Faric would emerge from his internal exile, but he hadn’t expected this.

  ‘The Krowen that we faced at the graveyard – how did they know we would be there? That meeting was not by chance. They were as helpless as we were. Wist, you watched as we easily destroyed five of them. They had been coerced to that place and they fought without thought or sense.’

  ‘They were a distraction,’ Tyla concurred. His voice caused Faric to wince.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Faric, recovering from his momentary slip. The blood ran from the untended wounds on his body, feeding the desert at his feet. ‘The sole purpose was to allow the Waren to attempt your life, Wist.

  ‘The only exception to this sequence of events is this encounter,’ continued Faric, pointing in the direction the Krowen had fled. ‘Truly this was a mighty foe, far larger than any of the Krowen we have ever encountered upon the Great Desert and wielding magic such as we have never seen. But this was a chance meeting. We have intruded upon its domain and it acted as any animal would. Either it must confront the threat or hope that it passes.

  ‘It chose the wrong option. Your decision to spare the Krowen’s life matters less than encounter itself. Perhaps we now step on a path not selected for us.’ Faric took a moment to look at each member of the party before he spoke again.

  ‘Or perhaps our path is unimportant; our destination already known.’

  Wist’s mind reeled as the implications of Faric’s words struck him. Each one felt like a rusted nail driven into his coffin. He struggled to find a way around Faric’s logic.

  ‘The darkness – the Waren - attacked Aviti as well as me,’ he said pleadingly to Faric. ‘You can’t simply dump the blame for your own problems at my feet.’ Wist scrabbled for something to say that would deflect attention away from himself. ‘I didn’t cause the rift between you.’

  Faric waited a moment before he replied. There was no physical reaction to his assertions. Either he was learning to sublimate it or else he strove to reassert control over his emotions.

  ‘You choose to ignore the obvious because it is not easy to hear. There is no blame for you, Wist. Accept the truth of matters, or doom us all.’

  Faric paused for a heartbeat, letting his words hit home. ‘I want an answer,’ he said. ‘Why did you let the Krowen go? Was it fear of delivering the last blow?’

  Wist stood with the weight of the party’s eyes upon him. He thought of lying; telling them that the sun had caught his eyes or his footing had been unsure.

  ‘I saw the fear in its eyes,’ said Wist. ‘What right did I have to end its life? Even if it had been placed in our path, I didn’t want to kill it just because it was forced to be there. And if it was there by mistake, then the mistake was as much ours as its.’

  Was he as honest as he told himself he was being, or was he making excuses for inaction in the face of fear? As he looked at the Lyrats and then Aviti, he worried that their thoughts mirrored his own. Faric turned without comment and went to treat his wounds.

  --*--

  After a short debate, they decided to keep to their current path. To retreat back to the foot of the mountains and proceed along their edge, until they met the river that fed the great lake Kar-Iktar, would cost them almost a full day. Also, nobody could guarantee that it would be any safer than the current course. With his strength almost fully returned, Tyla refused to remount the horse. Aviti followed Tyla’s lead and left the horse free for another to use. Nikka and Dregan took the opportunity to ride and let Faric assume his place at the front of the group; Tyla and Aviti followed a pace or two behind, Wist a further pace back.

  The lack of conversation was soon broken by Nikka’s voice, rising slowly over the noise of their passage. He intoned a deceptively simple melody that, despite its basic structure, never appeared to repeat, forever modulating and rotating. His rich baritone voice carried no words, only the sorrowful tune. Nikka’s voice drifted off into the soft edges of the desert as his song came to its end. Dregan stepped his mount forward a length to catch up with the Cerni.

  ‘That was quite beautiful,’ said Dregan, drawing level with Nikka. ‘What was it?’

  ‘A lament,’ smiled Nikka. ‘Sometimes it is sung at burials by my people.’

  ‘Are there no words?’ asked Dregan. ‘A melody as moving as that should not be unaccompanied.’

  Nikka turned away from Dregan to glance at the direction in which they travelled. He had ridden before, but not for many years, and keeping his balance was requiring quite an effort. After he had regained control of the horse, Nikka replied, ‘Aye, there are words. But not ones I can find the heart to mouth today. I may never sing those words again.’

  Dregan nodded to himself, and Nikka glanced back over to the mage. ‘So what is your story? How did you come to find yourself in a hole in the desert with a man who claims to be older than anyone could even dream to be?’ Nikka’s dark eyes probed the Mage.

  ‘It is not a complex story,’ Dregan stated. ‘I wished to learn from the best in the world. I met Eliscius in Bohba. Or rather, he found me there. He had been engaged in his own studies at one of the great Houses. I was studying under a rather inept master at the same House. I had soon learned all that I could from him and was desperate to move on, but I had indebted myself to the House to gain the tuition. When I met Eliscius, I was being used as a spy, gathering information on rival factions within the city. Wasting away my life, stealing worthless secrets and ruining the lives of people I would never meet.

  ‘Eliscius approached me, offering a path out of my predicament. At first, I was sceptical, assuming that there was a – less than savoury reason for his interest in me. Also, I wondered what he could possibly teach me, and how he could afford to purchase my debt. He soon demonstrated to me that his power – his grasp of the arcane – was formidable. Once I had witnessed this, there was no question that I would follow him: whatever the price.’

  ‘Without any questions, I was released from the service of the House the next day and I spent the next year learning a little of what Eliscius had unlocked. Then one day, as unremarkable as any other since I began to learn from him, he told me a story. It was as fanciful and exaggerated a tale as any heard in the innumerable taverns that line the streets of Bohba. He told me of Wist. Of course, I was aware of the cult, or religion if you prefer, and insurrection that had occurred in the distance past. Obviously, I knew the rift in the world.

  ‘But the extravagant tale of his own longevity, of his rise and fall fro
m power, in an age all but forgotten now, it was too much. I could not believe a word of it. But still, he was not done. He went on to describe the fate of the world and how it hung on the choices of a mythical figure, who would return to us somehow.

  ‘I stormed off in a rage. Such fanciful nonsense was abhorrent to me. I had devoted my life to the study of control, how to manipulate the world and its essence using the methods and rules I had learned. Despite its source, I would not reject everything I had learned about our world on the words of one man, no matter how powerful he was.

  ‘When I returned the next day, Eliscius told me that he did not expect me to believe what he had told me. He only asked me to listen to him. He said I would be ready in my own time. We never spoke of it again until the day that he told me we would leave the city.

  ‘I was excited at the prospect of leaving Bohba. I had never been far from its walls and was desperate to see some of the places that Eliscius claimed to have been. But when I enquired about chartering passage aboard a ship, he told me that we would not be crossing the sea, but heading inland. At first, I thought he meant to travel to Mashesh, but his goal was some distance from the desert city.

  ‘Then I thought that his destination might be Sordir, or perhaps another of the mountain's hidden gems like Opahl, but he told me that he wanted to stop in the mountains, deep within the desert. I could not grasp what he hoped to achieve by this, but he informed me that the vision that had plagued him before had returned. He would not speak further of what he had seen. He never asked if I would accompany him and, if he had, I would never have refused. Eliscius gave himself tirelessly to my instruction, when he could spare the time from his own research. If he wished to journey out into the desert, even if it was to find a final resting place, then accompanying him would be the least I could do.’