by Ben Hale
Alydian smiled as she caught sight of her beloved. Raiden carried sacks of crushed stones to one of the paths and poured them into place. The summer heat had caused many of the men to remove their shirts, and she surreptitiously admired the view as Raiden worked.
“Delicious,” Marrow said.
Alydian flushed and turned to find Marrow approaching, a wedge of cheese in her hand. She smirked, revealing her comment was not directed at the food.
“How long until the two of you are joined?” Marrow complained. “She wants to see the wedding.”
“Soon,” Alydian promised, and mentally added. Hopefully.
The last few years she’d spent much of her private time scouring books, searching for an answer to their dilemma. Raiden had aided in the effort, even going so far as to learn portions of the ancient language in order to decipher the oldest tomes. But the answer had proved elusive.
Red joined them and offered Alydian a water skin, which she gratefully accepted. Dressed in white and red armor, the woman now led her personal guard. Jester had started the Assassin’s Guild again, a group that now comprised Winter and Toron. All had come to assist Alydian in the final work on her new home.
Upon seeing Red and Marrow with Alydian, the others gathered for a reprieve. Drinking deep from water skins, they took respite in the shade, and marveled at the great trees intertwined just north of them.
Rooms and chambers dotted the interior of the trees, the great limbs providing graceful balconies and bridges. It was not a fortress by intention, and Alydian wanted those visiting to feel a sense of tranquility. Although all knew she’d stood against the Empire, some still feared her power.
“The gardens are nearly done,” Winter said, wiping sweat from her brow.
Raiden nodded. “Another week and we should have the crushed stone paths in place.”
Jester grinned slyly. “Then you two can be joined in marriage.”
“You know why we can’t,” Alydian said, forcing a smile.
“She doesn’t,” Marrow said with a disapproving sniff. “Love doesn’t mean waiting.”
Alydian realized she’d never vocalized their predicament and reached out to take Marrow’s hand. “If I have a child with a non-mage, our child will not be an oracle.”
To say it out loud hurt more than she’d thought. After the battle at Verisith she’d seen an ocean of hope, but with each passing month that hope had waned. She had never voiced it to Raiden, but she’d begun to doubt.
But Marrow snorted in annoyance. “Of course you can.”
“We can’t,” Raiden said softly.
“Yes. You. Can.” Marrow insisted, jutting her chin out.
“Marrow,” Toron said with a sigh. “I think she knows what she’s talking about.”
“She’s not stupid,” Marrow snapped. “She knows Alydian has to be joined to a mage. That’s why she fixed Raiden.”
There was a moment of silence as they all stared at her. Then Raiden jerked his head. “What do you mean, fixed me?”
Marrow rolled her eyes like it was obvious. “When she was in your head, she activated the part of you that could do magic.”
“What part?” he said. “I’ve never performed magic.”
“Are we the only ones that understand anything?” Marrow demanded. “You had the potential for four magics, but you were born without a trigger. She fixed that when she was in your head. Did you not figure that out?”
“How was he supposed to know?” Toron asked in exasperation.
“She said she told you,” Marrow said, scrunching her face up and arguing with her second mind. “You don’t remember? How can you not remember? This is the kind of thing you need to remember . . .”
Red laughed and pointed to Raiden, who looked stunned. “Well?” she asked. “You heard the girl.”
Raiden’s eyes found Alydian, who was too shocked and hopeful to speak. “Is it possible?”
“If what Toron learned in the City of Dawn is true, then it’s possible.” Alydian could barely breathe, her hope so bright the words tumbled from her lips.
Raiden looked uncertain. “How do I . . .” he held his hands up helplessly.
“Try to grow a plant,” Winter said, pointing to a rose bush that had just been planted.
Raiden swallowed and turned to it. Alydian could hardly speak as she watched him point to the plant and will it to grow. For several seconds they all stood in silence, all not daring to speak . . .
And a rose began to bloom.
The bud swelled and blossomed, the pedals folding open in a vibrant display of beauty. Raiden’s eyes widened in astonishment, ending the burst of magic. No one moved until he reached out and used a knife to pluck the rose. He stared at it like it was about to bite him, and then slowly rotated to Alydian. A slow smile spread on her face as he offered it to her.
“Alydian,” he breathed. “Will you be joined to me?”
Overwhelmed with emotion, she reached out and accepted the rose. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Tears blurred her vision as the others shouted, but she saw Raiden wreathed in light. A huge grin on his face, he pulled her into a kiss, the contact filled with hope for the future, the future she’d begun to fear would be lost forever.
Standing with friends, family, and her beloved, Alydian marveled at the contrast to her year in Teriah’s cell. Laughing with joy, she brushed the last of the tears away. After the war, she’d felt the scars would never fade, but in that moment she sensed a shift towards the future. She felt whole.
She felt hope.
Epilogue: Divided
Ten Years After the War
Alydian entered Verisith using the same tunnel Raiden had used when he sought the loyalty runestone. She’d sealed the opening shortly after the war to prevent looters from going to Verisith. She needn’t have bothered. The guardians of the city may have been destroyed, but the guardians with a source managed to repair themselves. In just ten years dozens of guardians lurked in the city depths, giving Verisith a lethal reputation among thieves.
Alone, she ascended beneath the once mighty fortress. The chambers were empty and hollow, the light orbs flickering and dying. Her boots clicked on the floor, the sound echoing into a disturbing silence.
The fate of Verisith had caused no small amount of conflict. Many had wanted to take possession of the fortress, while the still surviving Verinai wanted it back. Both wanted it for their own means, to use the secrets of the Verinai for their own power. Since the three Verinai fortresses lay outside claimed lands, they fell under her authority. After studying the future, she’d decided to leave them to time. To forbid anyone from owning the fortresses also hid a secret. Verisith served as home to Elenyr.
Alydian reached the keep and avoided the guardians, working her way to the office of Guildmaster Elsin. When she opened the door she found her mother sitting at the desk, poring over a Verinai tome.
“Daughter,” she said with a smile, and rose to embrace her.
“Hauntress,” Alydian replied, causing her to laugh.
“Do the people believe the city is stalked by a wraith?” she asked.
“They do indeed,” Alydian said. “And it will ensure people do not foolishly seek the city’s secrets.”
“A wise decision,” Elenyr said, gesturing to the book. “I have much to discover, but what I’ve already learned is disturbing.”
“It cannot be as disturbing as what I learned from the Eternals,” Alydian said.
It had been two years since three Eternals appeared in her home and revealed the truth of Lumineia, the Krey, and the ancient race. The revelations had been enormous and disturbing, and even with Elenyr to soften the blow, she didn’t sleep for months. Raiden had noticed the change, and it was all she could do to lie.
“The burden gets easier,” Elenyr said. “But the high oracle has always carried the mantle of knowledge.”
“How is Mal?” Alydian asked, not wanting to talk about the Eternals.
&nb
sp; Elenyr stepped around the desk and spun the book so Alydian could read. She pointed to the passage. As Alydian scanned the text, which looked to be written in Elsin’s own hand, she widened her eyes.
“Is this true?”
Elenyr nodded. “The reason the guardian spell causes madness is because it begins to form its own consciousness, and the two minds cannot be reconciled.”
“Guardian’s are sentient?”
“Not exactly,” she said. “They’re more like beast than man.”
“But several magics were used to turn Mal into a guardian,” Alydian said.
“Indeed,” Elenyr replied. “Water, mind, and light were all utilized. Mal already had shadow and fire from Toron, as well as air from Elsin.”
“Toron said he used air to float around because he couldn’t walk,” Alydian said. Then she read the next paragraph in her mother’s notes and straightened.
“You couldn’t find a counter-charm?”
“No,” Elenyr said, and pulled a horrending dagger into view. “But if we use this, I think it will draw out the magics as it did for me. But you’re the only one that can see all the magics, so you need to monitor the dagger. Do you think it will work?”
Alydian considered the ramifications and nodded. “I believe so.”
“Toron will be pleased,” Elenyr said. “He and Winter are preparing him now.”
“They’re already here?” she asked.
“They arrived yesterday,” Elenyr said.
Elenyr stepped to the wall at the back and activated a secret door. It had taken her months to find the guildmaster’s secret chamber. When Toron and Winter had finally trapped Mal, they’d brought him to Verisith. The four of them and Raiden were the only ones that knew about Mal.
The end of the corridor opened into a massive cavern, the center of which contained an enormous source of water magic. The huge sphere hovered above a hole in the floor, and Alydian’s eyes sought the figure at the center of the swirling water.
Unconscious, the young man still seemed dangerous. Toron and Winter had managed to cage him using anti-magic shackles of Alydian’s crafting, but he’d nearly escaped numerous times, forcing Alydian to cast a sleeping charm.
“Alydian,” Toron said, looking up from the table. “I’m glad you came.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she replied, and then nodded to Winter, who waddled around the table. She was well into a pregnancy but had refused to leave Toron’s side. Alydian embraced the woman.
“Can you do it?” Winter asked.
Alydian pulled away and smiled. “I believe I can,” she said.
Winter’s face was twisted with worry, a sharp contrast to the hope on Toron’s features. He stared at his son like it was the dawn after an endless night, and Alydian realized Winter feared for him if the attempt failed.
“Remember, Toron,” Elenyr said. “This has never been used on a guardian.”
“I know,” Toron said impatiently. “But it’s my only chance to get my son.”
Alydian looked between the three of them. It had been a year since Toron captured Mal and they’d spent much of the time holed up in Verisith, searching for an answer. An answer only Alydian could provide.
Alydian accepted the dagger from Elenyr held it aloft. “A horrending dagger,” she said. “It will take the magic from his flesh, but should leave him alive.”
“Will it hurt?” Toron asked, turning to Alydian.
Alydian nodded soberly. “A great deal, unfortunately.”
Toron steeled himself. “Do it.”
Alydian nodded and strode to the edge of the hole. Then she held the dagger aloft and used a gust charm to send it into the sphere of water. It plunged into the ball of water magic and sank into Mal’s chest.
His eyes snapped open and he screamed. He clawed at the dagger’s hilt but the blade would not be withdrawn. It seeped into his soul and leeched away the magics fused to his flesh. Mal’s body shimmered as the water was taken and he arched his back, screaming again.
“Mal!” Toron shouted, and Winter took his hand.
But he was beyond hearing. His body trembled, his fingers clenched so tightly that blood ran from his fingernails. Water magic blossomed from the dagger and poured into the sphere. It was not pure, and the water darkened. Mind and light came next, and then fire and shadow seeped from the dagger.”
“He’s been a guardian for too long,” Elenyr said. “The dagger is taking his essence.”
“It’s killing him,” Toron cried, his voice tinged with panic.
Alydian grimaced as the boy shrieked again and raised her hand, intent on destroying the dagger. But Elenyr caught her wrist as the magics began to coalesce into a second shape. Arms and legs began to form, the water instinctively taking human form.
“Wait,” Elenyr had to shout over Mal’s continued screams.
“What is happening?” Toron demanded.
“The guardian is reforming itself using Mal’s essence,” Alydian said.
“Stop it before it kills him!” Toron growled.
“No,” Elenyr shouted. “Wait until it’s almost finished. Then destroy the dagger.”
“Are you certain?” Alydian asked, casting her an uncertain glance.
“Trust me,” Elenyr replied, her gaze fixed on Mal.
Alydian growled at the choice and dipped into her farsight, but Mal’s future was completely absent, the next few moments too chaotic for a future to be set. Deciding to trust her mother, Alydian stayed her hand.
The guardian leeched away from Mal’s body and formed its own flesh. Crafted from several magics and the boy’s essence, it shaped into a second body, the torso forming first, then the arms and legs, and finally the skull and head. As the features formed it became clear it would even look like Mal, right down to the eyes.
“Now,” Elenyr said.
Alydian clenched her fist and the dagger shattered, its magic disintegrating. The thread of air magic withdrew back into Mal’s body and he gasped. Trembling from the pain, he looked about with new eyes.
“Father?” he asked, his gaze finding Toron.
“I’m here,” Toron choked.
Alydian manipulated the sphere and brought Mal out. He appeared much the same, but the darkness to his eyes was absent. Now a bright blue, his gaze remained fixed on his father. His limbs shook from the ordeal and his legs were weak, the flesh unable to support a body. Much like a physical scar, the legacy would remain a part of him until his death.
“Son,” Toron choked, and engulfed the boy in a crushing embrace.
“What happened?” the boy asked, his tone confused and uncertain.
“It doesn’t matter, now,” Toron said. “You have returned to me.”
Still cautious, Alydian looked to the guardian, to find it too was awake. It looked about itself with interest, confused and uncertain. The trace of madness was gone, and but it retained much of its power.
“Mal,” Winter said. “Are you well?”
The boy smiled. “I remember you,” he said. “I’m glad you found my father.” He tried to walk and fell, instinctively casting a bubble of air that held him aloft. He laughed, the childlike amusement reverberating off the cavern. “I love riding the air,” he exclaimed. “But did not mother attempt to heal my legs?”
In tears, Toron wrapped the youth in an embrace. “You have always been whole.”
Alydian stabbed a finger to the door and Elenyr understood the order. She ushered the family to the tunnel. Too engrossed in having his son returned, Toron did not even look at the guardian, still trapped in the water sphere.
“Why am I trapped?” it asked, its eyes scanning the chamber with interest.
“I’m sorry,” she said, watching the guardian. “But I do not know what you are.”
The guardian shook his head in confusion. “How long will you keep me bound?”
Alydian frowned and dipped into her magesight. The being was a mixture of Mal’s essence and five pure magics, but she did not
sense the chaos she did from other guardians. It was unique, that much was certain, but what fate did it deserve? Death? Or life?
“You will stay here for now,” Alydian said. “You must know you are dangerous.”
“I am not a beast to be caged,” he said, a flicker of dark anger appearing on his features.
Alydian frowned. “You speak as if you know your identity. Do you have a name?”
The boy smiled, the expression chilling Alydian’s blood. “Draeken,” he said. “My name is Draeken.”
The Chronicles of Lumineia
By Ben Hale
—The Age of Oracles—
The Rogue Mage
The Lost Mage
The Battle Mage
—The Master Thief—
Jack of Thieves
Thief in the Myst
The God Thief
—The Second Draeken War—
Elseerian
The Gathering
Seven Days
The List Unseen
—The Warsworn—
The Flesh of War
The Age of War
The Heart of War
—The White Mage Saga—
Assassin's Blade (Short story prequel)
The Last Oracle
The Sword of Elseerian
Descent Unto Dark
Impact of the Fallen
The Forge of Light
Author Bio
Originally from Utah, Ben has grown up with a passion for learning almost everything. Driven particularly to reading caused him to be caught reading by flashlight under the covers at an early age. While still young, he practiced various sports, became an Eagle Scout, and taught himself to play the piano. This thirst for knowledge gained him excellent grades and helped him graduate college with honors, as well as become fluent in three languages after doing volunteer work in Brazil. After school, he started and ran several successful businesses that gave him time to work on his numerous writing projects. His greatest support and inspiration comes from his wonderful wife and six beautiful children. Currently he resides in Missouri while working on his Masters in Professional Writing.