by Ben Hale
Toron folded his arms and turned to Galathon. “I can take you to Elsin.”
The rock troll growled, and the mind reaver pawed the floor, reflecting its companion’s anger. Galathon rose to his feet and came around the bone table, drawing the great axe on his back. Stepping past the mind reaver, he pointed the axe at Toron.
“You’re not the first to claim that.”
“I’m the first who can deliver.”
Galathon brushed a hand across a wide scar on his chest. “You don’t think I’ve tried to kill the woman? Three attempts, three scars. Why can you do what I cannot?”
“She was my wife.”
His statement stilled the room, and after a moment the rock troll began to laugh. Rumbling at first, it built into a roar of amusement as he twirled his axe. Then abruptly his humor evaporated.
“You lie,” he said, “and I should give you to Severon.” The mind reaver growled in anticipation.
Toron sneered. “Given the chance, I’d kill Elsin faster than you.”
The rock troll regarded him for several moments, and Toron sensed his life hanging by a thread. He readied himself for an escape, drawing heat into his palms in case the troll sentenced him to die. He had no doubt he could flee the room, but he could never escape the reaver. The beast would track his mind across continents.
The rock troll raised an eyebrow, his expression turning curious. “What did she do?”
“You assume Elsin was to blame?” someone called with a laugh. Galathon growled and they fell silent.
“She turned my son into a guardian,” Toron said.
“Is your son alive?” Galathon asked.
He nodded. “I wish to free Mal from her clutches.”
The troll traced a mark across his cheek. “I’ve fought a guardian before,” he said. “And I’d rather fight a reaver.” Severon coughed as if in amusement.
“He’s my son,” Toron said. “He’ll listen to me.”
The troll mused aloud. “Turn you over to the Empire and take your bounty . . . or help you hunt and kill Elsin.”
“We both know you want to kill her,” Toron said.
“Everyone knows that,” he replied. “Did Elenyr send you here? She’s always been good at sending soldiers to their deaths.”
“Does it matter?” Toron asked. “Our desires are the same.”
The rock troll scowled. “You think to manipulate me?”
He reached out and caught Toron by the throat. Lifting him as easily as he would a chicken for dinner, he turned and slammed him into one of the masts. A sword clattered to the floor and the skull of a sea creature cracked. Toron saw stars as he fought to breathe, but he retained his anger.
“I’ve killed men for less,” Galathon snarled, his face so close Toron could smell his breath.
“Are you a coward?” Toron growled back. “I thought you were a legend, but your greatest foe remains alive.”
The rock troll turned and hurled him across the room. Toron drew on the shadows, which rotated him so he landed on his feet. As he skidded to a stop he cast a ring of fire, the burst of flames sending those in the tavern scrambling away. Roaring his anger, Toron cast twin swords and pointed one at the rock troll.
“When I kill her without you, the whole world will know that you were afraid, that you were bested . . . by a human.”
Anger twisted the rock troll’s features but he held himself in check. For all his history of rage and blood, he’d survived because he was smart. Toron doubted he could kill the troll, least of all with his mind reaver at his side, but he wasn’t about to die without a fight.
“The last human to speak to me in such a manner is dead, buried under this very building,” Galathon said.
“What’s it to be?” Toron said, flicking his swords. “Join me? Or see just how dangerous a shadowmage can be?”
The troll’s eyes flicked to the door, realizing for the first time that Toron had directed his landing so he was just feet from an exit. Not even the reaver could stop him from getting outside, where the shadows of night would feed Toron’s power. Galathon scowled, and abruptly sheathed his axe.
“When we find her, I’m the one to take her life.”
“Agreed,” Toron said. “But no one touches my son.”
“Agreed,” Galathon said.
“When do we depart?” Toron asked. He extinguished his fires but kept the heat at his fingertips just in case.
“Now,” the troll said, casting over his shoulder. “Grogith, you have the crew in my absence.”
“Aye, captain,” the gnome said.
Then Galathon turned to Severon. “I hope you remember the flavor of Elsin’s mind.”
The beast’s snarl sent a chill into Toron’s blood.
Chapter 6: Seascape
Two days after separating from Toron, the fleet reached the South Sea and turned north. Leaving the Empire behind, they followed the coastline into the unclaimed lands. Alydian spent most of her time in the captain’s cabin, which Captain Erod had insisted she use. When word came that Seascape had been spotted by a scouting ship, she and Elenyr ascended to the prow.
Sunlight danced across the pristine waters and gulls swirled above. Sixty ships were scattered behind them, most barely afloat. It had been three weeks since the battle at Skykeep, and the soldiers were almost healed. They stood on the decks, excited to reach Seascape.
Several on a neighboring ship caught sight of her and waved, a sign she returned. Once again, Alydian was filled with pride at the courage of the rebellion. Outnumbered and with little magic, the defiant army had prevailed because of clever tactics, and Elenyr.
“It’s been a long journey,” Elenyr said, “But much work must be done.”
Alydian did not respond. Elenyr had sacrificed her magic in order to live. Over the last few weeks Alydian had come to know the full weight of the mantle of oracle as everyone sought her guidance.
She sighed and looked to Elenyr. “I fear I cannot do what the people require.”
“You are born to a high calling,” Elenyr said with a smile. “You will prevail.”
Alydian looked to the sea without seeing it. “I spent a year of solitude in Teriah’s prison and I still feel the legacy of madness.”
Elenyr gestured to the cots lining the ship’s deck. “A soldier needs time to heal the body, and you need time to heal the mind.”
“Time is the very thing we lack,” Alydian said.
Elenyr raised an eyebrow at the tension in her tone. She blinked as if to examine the future, a habitual attempt to use her farsight, and then irritation tightened her features. Although Elenyr hid her consternation well, she too struggled with her new role.
“What do you foresee upon our arrival?” Elenyr asked.
“Conflict,” Alydian replied, lowering her tone and glancing towards the nearby sailors. “After you freed her from the Empire, Princess Ora arrived here, seeking aid from Duke Senin. He brought nearly ten thousand troops with him but sees himself as Ora’s superior. He believes her weak.”
“What does Senin desire?”
Alydian glanced about to make sure none were within earshot. “His ambition is apparent,” she said, lowering her tone. “But I cannot discern what he seeks.”
Elenyr nodded as if she’d expected it. “War has a way of eliciting the best—and the worst. Those with courage rise to honor. And those without fall to greed.”
“How do I stop him?”
“You may not be able to,” Elenyr said. “And remember, you cannot be the head of the rebellion. In my time as high oracle I dealt with thieves, bandits, and killers—most from the noble class. You may need to forge a treaty in order to preserve the unity of our rebellion.”
Or we could kill him . . .
The sinister whisper came from the darkest recesses of Alydian’s mind. She’d hoped the magic of rage would fade after her escape, but it continued to linger, an omnipresent fury from her time in solitude.
She shuddered and looked away, the image of the
destruction she’d wrought flashing across her thoughts. The magic of rage had been shockingly powerful—yet it had controlled her. She was ashamed she yearned to feel such might again.
“I cannot understand the depth of agony you endured,” Elenyr said softly, and placed her hand on Alydian’s augmented arm. “But will you tell me how you escaped?”
Alydian looked to her augmented flesh, hardly feeling her touch. In order to escape Alydian had infused her arm with magic until it was stronger than steel, the muscles, sinews, and bones empowered with light and water. With it she’d shattered walls. But that was not all she’d broken.
Her thoughts turned to the hundreds she’d killed in Dawnskeep, of the destruction she had wrought. The magic of rage had been her salvation, but carried a legacy of regret. After a moment’s silence her mother inclined her head.
“When you are ready, I am here.”
Her throat too tight for speech, Alydian merely nodded. She wanted to tell her mother everything, but could not bear the condemnation on her mother’s face. Elenyr had taught her to revere life, to protect the people. And she’d turned her back on those teachings to save herself.
“Are you ready?”
A set of approaching boots caused them to turn and find Devkin walking to them. The man was dressed for combat and carried a sword at his waist. He’d been her protector before the Empire and he’d refused to leave her side since her escape. His armor was dark blue and black, replacing the white of a Runeguard Captain. On the shoulder the crest of the oracles had been replaced with Alydian’s family crest, the house of Elsheeria.
He nodded to Elenyr as he joined them. “Captain Erod says we should spot Seascape any moment.”
Alydian turned towards the shore and watched the trees glide by. The region was outside the Mage Empire and owned by scattered human settlements, the largest of which was Seascape, a small fortress that protected the shoreline from pirates. Although it did not have a centralized government, the area paid tribute to Seascape which in turn funded a small fleet to guard the coast.
Alydian dipped into her farsight, the sea disappearing into purple clouds. She found her tree and, although much was obscured by indecision, the next hour was clear. She smiled as she realized Seascape was just around the corner.
She extinguished her magic and turned to Seascape, pointing as the ship rounded a butte. As she did, the watcher in the nest cried out a warning and Ronelia banked the ship toward the citadel.
Situated on the top of a cliff, the fortress was small, little more than a keep and a courtyard. But it had been expertly built with its fortifications thick and threaded with stone magic. Carved from the cliff, a road descended to the stretch of earth that led to a beach, where a sprawling village provided the region’s central port.
Tents and makeshift structures dotted the nearby trees, the sheer volume suggesting thousands had sought refuge outside the Empire. Many wore the uniform of Griffin soldiers, and she realized they were Duke Senin’s men.
As their fleet rounded the butte a swell of noise erupted in the village and people flocked to the beach. They waved and shouted in greeting, the atmosphere turning festive. The shouts of praise indicated that word of their victory had preceded their arrival. Then a line of soldiers appeared.
Alydian expected them to ready the docks to receive them, but instead they marched onto the beach and forced people away. Others formed a line on the docks and armed their bows. Dressed in the brown and gold of the Griffin army, they were obviously prepared to deny Alydian’s arrival.
“What’s this about?” Devkin asked with a frown, scratching his beard.
“This is Duke Senin’s doing,” Elenyr said.
Their impudence demands punishment.
“Bring us to the beach,” Alydian called, shoving whisper from her mind.
The soldiers at the beach pulled levers to raise spears from the depths, their barbed tips extended to deter ships from landing at the village. Men and women on the shore cried out in dismay and anger, some spitting at the soldier’s feet.
“It appears the Duke’s actions are not liked among the populace,” Devkin said wryly.
Ronelia spun the helm and barked orders, bringing them to a halt twenty feet from the blockade of steel. Across the ship Alydian met Ronelia’s gaze and the woman raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the ballistae. Alydian shook her head. Then the captain on the docks shouted across to them.
“You are not welcome here!”
“We have wounded that require aid,” Elenyr called, “And we need supplies. Will you not offer refuge?”
The captain swept his hand at the overcrowded village. “We lack the room or resources.”
Devkin growled and stabbed a finger at him. “Nonsense. You lack the backbone to fight the Empire.”
The man flushed but kept his anger in check. “Duke Senin has ordered your fleet to depart.”
“Where is Princess Ora?” Alydian asked.
The man shifted his feet and refused to meet her gaze. “You must depart.”
Elenyr turned to Alydian and raised an eyebrow. “High Oracle? What would you have us do?”
Alydian felt the weight of many eyes upon her, but it was her mother’s expression that buoyed her up. The smile, both amused and mischievous, was all the confidence she needed. Alydian rotated back to the captain and smiled.
“Your message has been conveyed, good captain, but I fear we must refuse . . .”
Chapter 7: Duke Senin
The man stared at her, uncertainty washing across his features. Before he could respond Alydian stepped to the railing and summoned the sea. At her command it rose up and poured across her feet, filling the deck and turning solid. Forming a great hand, it lifted her, Elenyr, and Devkin off the boat.
“Just how much did your skill grow in prison?” Devkin asked.
An image of her tiny cell filled Alydian’s thoughts, of battling hordes of shadow entities to bolster her willpower, of forcing magic into her arm to harden it. She shuddered and directed the hand to carry them over the barbs to the beach.
The captain called out an order and soldiers rushed to intercept them, forming ranks that blocked their path. The captain sprinted off the docks and threaded a gap in the line, whipping his sword free.
“Don’t let them reach Seascape!”
A hundred soldiers formed a phalanx around them, then two hundred, then three. By the time Alydian set foot on sand there were a thousand men and women arrayed against them, all with weapons in hand.
“Would you shed an oracle’s blood?” Elenyr demanded.
“Your daughter has no qualms in doing so,” the captain said, but his sword trembled, and the other soldiers seemed uncertain.
Strike him down . . .
Alydian struggled with the desire to punish the man for his disrespect, but she didn’t need to. The villagers began to shout at the soldiers, hurling curses at those trying to stop the oracles. The other soldiers shifted uncomfortably, their swords wavering.
Alydian knew she should seek a diplomatic solution, but she could not suppress the magic of rage. It churned at the corner of her mind, yearning to crush them for their impudence. Her thoughts tinged with the burgeoning emotion, she began to advance towards the line of soldiers.
“Alydian,” Devkin murmured. “Do you intend to fight?”
Alydian wanted to say yes, but she recognized it coming from whisper and fought the impulse. Throwing a glance at Alydian, Elenyr took the lead. She caught Alydian’s arm and held her fast.
“We do not kill allies,” Elenyr murmured. “Disarm them.”
Alydian latched onto the escape from whisper and reached into the sand, feeling the grains resting against each other, the lingering moisture from the last wave. Both answered her will, and the sand flowed upward, rising over the feet of the soldiers, twisting up their legs and tightening about their waists.
The first rank of soldiers cried out as the sand yanked them to the beach and ripped their sword
s from their fingers. Alydian expected the rest to surrender and was not disappointed. The already uncertain men and women dropped their swords, leaving the captain standing alone. A wave of laughter spread among the witnesses, causing him to flush.
“You will bring the Empire upon us!” the captain exclaimed, finally lowering his sword. “We would have peace but you would bring war.”
“The Empire wants war,” Alydian said.
“Please,” he said. “I am just doing my duty.”
She fought to keep her rage in check but she’d spent a year in prison becoming lethal. “Captain,” she managed, “it is unwise to draw a blade on an oracle, especially in a time of such unrest.”
The man shook his head. “We want no part in a conflict between oracles. If you depart they would leave us be! You and your blasted mother are—”
Alydian stabbed a finger at him and his voice ended, eliciting more laughter from the crowd. Alydian forced a smile, grateful her spell hadn’t ripped his throat out.
“Our apologies, oracle,” a lieutenant said, stepping forward. “But we had our orders.” Then a faint smile crossed his face. “But since you have defeated us, perhaps the Duke will see you now. If you would permit me, my men will escort you to the fortress.”
There were nods of approval from the other soldiers, even from those bound on the beach. Their loyalty punctured her rage, and she finally regained her wits.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Alydian said, extinguishing the magic that held them bound.
Eager to erase their previous actions, the soldiers smiled and rushed to greet Alydian and Elenyr, allowing the people to approach as well. Still bound, the captain could only struggle and seethe in silence as the people greeted the oracles.
Alydian smiled and clasped the hands of all who approached, but it was the ones who hung back that caught her eye. Instead of devotion and hope, their expression showed fear, indicating they’d also heard of the destruction at Dawnskeep.
“Are you well?” Elenyr murmured, her eyes revealing her uncertainty.
Alydian nodded. “I am now.”