by Daniel White
Red wings? Aldrick thought to himself. What could that mean?
Once inside, Jon offered their two new companions food and water. They then seated themselves in a rough circle so as to hear and share each other’s thoughts. Télia sat next to Aldrick. He could sense her unease. Her home village, Daraki’ Anya, was close to Galdrem. It may have already suffered in the wake of Malath’s return.
He rested a hand on her shoulder.
“We are going to fix all this,” he said as tenderly as he could. He wasn’t sure what else to say.
Télia didn’t offer a response, just continued to stare blankly forward.
“Well now, let us talk.” Jon sat with his legs crossed and hands on his knees. He glanced steadily around at each of them. “Firstly, let us talk about dragons. It sounds as though we may have to add one to our list of foes.”
What! Dragons? … Dragons?! Surely Aldrick had misheard.
Télia stared at Jon with widened eyes. “No… they don’t exist, not in this age.”
Jon shook his head. “Now Malath possesses his storm again there is little from the past he cannot bring back to haunt this world. His foul sister was just the beginning, I fear.”
“It is a certainty that ‘red wings’ referred to a dragon,” said Aru. “There have been reports from a village near Mur that the gorge was recently visited by a company of riders. It is the only known location where the remains of a dragon lie. Malath plans to return it to life, has he not already.”
Jon nodded. “It is the likely truth. His wielding ability will be as strong as ever, possibly even more so given the years he has spent disempowered and resentful of his fate. If he gets his hands on the Shard there will truly be carnage as has not been seen in a thousand years.”
“And I hear this lad is our only hope,” said Sinin, turning his attention to Aldrick.
Jon shot Aldrick a quick glance.
“That may be so, though it is not nearly that simple,” he said. “We seek to obtain the stone which trapped Malath’s powers many years ago, to ensure victory over him this time. Without it in Aldrick’s possession, his chances are infinitesimal at best.”
Sinin nodded musingly. “It would seem you are steps ahead of us then. We came with no plan of retaliation.”
“Yet you can provide invaluable support of our own,” said Télia. “Tomorrow we travel for Selayna’s old Blackbed hideout, where we hope to find the stone. It is the likeliest place Malath has kept it hidden from the world all these years.”
Sinin’s eyebrows rose. “A bold move… but spurred by sound reasoning it would seem. Aru and I will gladly accompany you. After all, it is our job to protect Aldrick.”
Jon clapped his hands together. “It is most excellent to have you on board. The extra arms you offer mean I shall be more willing to part from this venture.”
Aldrick looked up. “What? You aren’t coming with us?”
Jon looked at him with reluctance in his eyes. “For some of the way I shall, but I must make way to Galdrem. If the Synod has been given only days to surrender, which they will not, then I must be there to protect the Shard of Heart’s Storm, and the peoples of the Narathlands, just as I once swore to. It is my duty, one I have abandoned for far too long.”
His words were disheartening. The knowledge that a powerful wielder would accompany him to Fort Blackbed had been a large part of Aldrick’s motivation to go there. Now it felt only perilous and foolhardy.
“Do not fret, my boy” said Jon, sensing his disappointment. “You will find your way. With Malath in Galdrem, it is likely that the fort will be ill-guarded.”
Télia nudged his shoulder. “You’ll still have us aeras at your side.”
Aldrick smiled and looked around at the three of them.
“I am grateful for it,” he said. “But know that I want none of you to protect me any more than you would each other. I invite the support of willing companions, not bodyguards.”
Sinin chuckled. “These words I endorse. What real man needs us three watching his back? You are a real man, are you not, Aldrick?
“No, I am a wielder,” he replied.
“Like father, like son,” Jon said fondly. “So it is settled. Tomorrow we shall leave here. Our cause is the same, though we have our own parts to play and paths to follow. Let us pray, to whatever ethereal beings may be listening, that this all ends well.”
“It had better,” said Sinin, rising. “But in case it does not, let us celebrate now and die later. Jon, do you have drink?”
“You have your priorities in order, my friend,” Jon said with elevating spirits. “The answer is yes, I do. Let me fetch us some wine. We must share mugs!”
They did indeed share mugs. Jon retrieved enough dusty wine bottles from a small cellar to supply a tavern for a week, many of which were hastily claimed by Sinin who proceeded to down them as if his life depended on it. Aldrick also found himself drinking more than he judged to be wise. It was a fine wine, made from the merry grape—a rare berry found only in the eastern provinces, Jon had proudly told him. Télia expressed her appreciation of it, but drank sparingly, instead spending time in the kitchen preparing food. She insisted that they must fill their stomachs.
“We have an early start and a long journey ahead of us, my friends,” she said, resisting Sinin’s attempt to claim her as a dance partner.
Jon was by the fire playing a jolly tune on a flute and dancing with Aru. It was a peculiar dance with lots of small jumps and spinning that Aldrick had never seen before, but then again, he had never been much of a dancer.
Aru appeared to be enjoying herself, though like Télia, she had refrained from consuming much wine. She was smiling, unlike upon her arrival. Second to Jon, she was the oldest among them. Her face bore the permanent markings of many trying days—serving in conflicts under the command of the Synod, Aldrick supposed.
He had chosen to distance himself from the dancing and stood near the kitchen, separated from Télia by the bench. He used it to rest an elbow on while he drank.
“Are you feeling all right?” Télia asked, catching him staring down into his mug.
“I’m fine thanks,” he replied. “I was just considering that I should probably put my drink down and keep my mind afloat. There is nothing worse than waking to a throbbing headache.”
Télia laughed. “I have had my fair share of such mornings, which is why I cautioned you all. We need to keep our wits about us. There could be danger at any time, even tonight.”
“Let your guard down, Télia, there will be no danger tonight. Be merry!” Sinin had overheard them talking while he clumsily refilled his two mugs.
Télia sighed. “Fine, but I will not drink like you. I intend to preserve my dignity.”
Sinin bowed.
“Princess,” he said, then returned to dance with the others.
Télia’s mood did brighten after that point. With Aldrick’s help, she served a sumptuous dinner of goat meat and fresh vegetables from Jon’s garden. The smells quickly drew the others to the kitchen bench.
“Simply delicious!” exclaimed Jon, sampling the vegetables. “What herbs did you use, dear?”
Télia shrugged. “Just a whole lot. In Daraki, everyone loves cooking. My grandmother taught me all the secrets of making vegetables the tastiest part of a meal. It is a trick she used on me as a child.”
Jon chuckled. Aldrick was glad the mood was light. It was what they needed. Beyond tonight there was no knowing when they would next have time to unwind and enjoy each other’s company. Moments such as this affirmed to him that they were doing the right thing. It was not reckless going after Malath, nor was it heroic. It was simply just.
At a late hour, after they had filled their stomachs to excess, they found themselves collapsed on and around the seating area, with the flames of the fire ever faithfully providing warmth and soothing light. The food seemed to have dulled the effects the wine had on Jon and he now rekindled talk of the journey ahead.
; “We will follow the valley path as far north as convenient then make way across the Lonely Province,” he said. “When we reach Old Capital Road I will follow it to Galdrem. You four will continue on into the Blackbed Plains. The fort won’t be difficult to find. It burrows into a solitary mountain in the north.”
“So, first the Lonely Province and then the Blackbed Plains? Both those places sound awfully cheery,” Aldrick remarked.
“The Lonely Province inherited its name after Prithe fell. Since then it has been all but deserted. It is a land of forgotten beauty. Blackbed, on the other hand… you will know that place when you see it, Aldrick.”
Sinin yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Right now I wish only to know the comfort of a soft surface beneath me.”
Jon rose. “Yes, it is indeed time for us to rest.” He bid them goodnight and made his way upstairs to bed.
Sinin and Aru claimed the area by the fire. They had brought their own sleeping gear. While they settled down, Télia beckoned Aldrick to her room. He went gladly.
“Sleep on the floor in here,” she said, handing him her spare pillow.
“All right,” he said, hiding his disappointment. Spending another night in the same bed as her was perhaps a little too much to ask.
Télia glanced into the living room then spoke in a whisper. “It may seem silly to you but I was taught never to trust one whom I don’t know or know of. I won’t have you sleeping in the same room as Aru.”
He was puzzled by this. Wasn’t Aru also an aera, entrusted to protect him? She might not be the most polite person in the world, but was there really any reason to distrust her? He let it go. He was happy to once more spend a night in Télia’s close company, hopefully not to be interrupted by any visitors of ill-will this time.
They spoke no more. As they lay in silence there was much on their minds. Their fates were uncertain. Come the morning light, they would set out toward dark and dreadful things.
8
DARK AND DREADFUL THINGS
Flame was absent from the many candles that lined the walls. Malath preferred it this way. He felt a resonant sense of seclusion within the shadows. Behind him the statue of Akimr, The First Wielder, stood, headless and scorched by the heat of stormfire. It was a befitting state. Akimr had once made a deplorable choice—to embrace a life amongst the putrid and stifling human race. They were empty vessels, all of them. They possessed no storm, no higher purpose and no desire for one. It was he, Malath, the almighty one, who had come to his senses and seen that the only way toward an enlightened world was to first see humankind extinguished from it. The long years he had spent cursed to be as one of them had not swayed him from his will to turn old desires into reality. The time was growing near when he would have unspeakable power and the ability to make them so. Galdrem quivered at his feet. The remnants of the Synod were trapped, cowering in a corner behind a feeble warding enchantment. He could crush the life from them if he did so desire, yet he retained hope that they would see the light and join him, that they would stand with him when the time of the cleansing came. The very thought of the cleansing made him shudder with anticipation and pleasure.
He rose and took a long, deep breath of the stagnant air. The smells of fire and blood lingered. He closed his eyes and summoned two souls from the somnolent world of the Life Afterwards to his presence. Slowly, they appeared like twilight mist—pallid reflections of their demised physical counterparts. One was a vast figure that engulfed much of the hall and, without confinement, disappeared beyond the stone walls. It was curled up in a slumber—a colossal mound of ridged stone, a dormant volcano. The other levitated before him, staring at him through dark, sinister eyes—a simple, stout figure, just as Malath remembered him.
“My lord?” The figure spoke in a distant, echoing voice. “My lord, it is my honour to be summoned before you.”
Malath placed a hand over his heart. He was humbled by those words. “Dron, your allegiance never fades, not even in death. Soon, though, you will be back at my side. At this very moment my servants seek out your burial chamber. I shall bind you to your bones and you will walk in this world once more.”
Dron rubbed his hands together. “I yearn for that day, my lord, and I lust for vengeance on those who took my life.”
“You will have it, Dron, as I shall see my own endeavour complete.” He gestured to the massive soul beyond him. “That is Aashkara, a dragon of old. I shall resurrect her also. She is to help me gain access to the Shard of Heart’s Storm. No enchantment will withstand her fury.”
Dron gaped at the dragon’s soul.
“A fearsome beast to behold!” he exclaimed. “With her allegiance victory is all but fated.”
“Oh yes, none now stand in my way. There were murmurings of some bastard offspring of my defiler, but my sweet sister sent servants to end him.”
“Good. Very good.”
A deep, menacing grumble began that echoed around the hall and sent tremors through the floor. Aashkara opened her lizard eyes and raised her head. “Storm wielder, my longing to fly with air beneath my wings grows difficult to bear.” Her cavernous tones exuded might and ferocity.
Malath stood his ground. He needed to appear steady in the wake of such immense power. “You shall be able to very soon, Aashkara. I swear it to you.”
“Yes, I shall.” She closed her eyes again and rested her head. “I await my resurrection. Do not prolong it or else when I awaken you will find my temper… unruly.”
“Very well.” Malath released Aashkara’s soul back to the Life Afterwards. Her ghostly form dissipated into the shadows like thinning smoke.
“Do you trust the dragon?” Dron asked. “She is a force not to be reckoned with.”
“Oh, she will do exactly as I say,” Malath said confidently. “We have already reached an agreement. One she will not retreat from.”
“Why is that?”
“She believes in forgotten myths. She believes that if she destroys Darkna her kin will be freed from eternal damnation.”
Dron nodded. “Ah, I see. Very cunning. You are very much your old self, my lord.”
“As you shall be your old self soon, Storm Brother.”
Dron bowed his head low. At a wave of Malath’s hand, he faded away.
Alone again, Malath began to laugh. His dream was soon to be fulfilled. He would have lordship over these lands, and perhaps one day those beyond the horizon too!
He heard footsteps and spun around. A silhouette appeared at the far end of the hall which sparked anger in him. “Sister, why have you not left from this place? Did I not request you to oversee preparations for the resurrection?”
Selayna approached him with a lofty step. Candles sprung to life around her, illuminating her figure. Her drathen-blue dress flowed like a flame in a breeze. “Dear Brother, the task you set me upon was indeed important, but it needed not my personal attention. I sent some faithful in my stead. I remained here, to have a little fun.” She took a carving knife from her belt and brandished it before her. It was stained with blood.
Malath’s frown lingered for a moment longer before he relaxed. “Well then, I see you have done no wrong.” He seated himself. “Now tell me, Sister, just what wickedness have you been up to? Why do you bear such an obsolete weapon?”
Selayna twisted her face into a cheeky sneer. “I’ve been using this knife of late for I have realised humans simply cannot comprehend my powers. They know not what our storm can do to them, Brother. But this little knife—they know exactly what it can do and when they feel it sever their flesh, the pain they feel… it is more real to them. That makes inflicting it all the more enjoyable. They writhe and squeal like little piglets.”
Malath chuckled. “Your macabre tendencies worry me. I fear your mind hangs from but a thread.”
“Nonsense!” she snapped. “My mind is well intact. I but bleed animals, soon to go to the slaughter anyway, and that will be your doing, not mine.”
“Indeed it will.” He stood
up. “Have you pictured it, Sister? Thousands of Sanswords arisen, my word their will. Cities will fall at their feet. The people will decay to bones, and we… we will stand and watch it befall.” He grasped his sister’s hand and stared into her widened eyes. “We will stand as the gods of this world.”
She gasped. “We will, won’t we?” Her eyes welled with tears. “Oh Brother, words still fail me. You are my saviour. All those years in death, my soul was tortured with the deepest despair. All I wanted was to be back at your side. You granted me that wish and brought me back, and now, now you offer up the world. I thought that dream long lost.” She buried her head in his robes and sobbed uncontrollably.
Malath held her close to him. “Sister, do not fret. Nothing is lost. I know with absolute certainty that I shall never lose you again, for the day I die we shall go forth into the Life Afterwards, together.” He kissed her softly on the forehead. She raised her head and stared up at him through wisps of damp hair. He felt warmth in his heart. He loved her dearly. It had nearly destroyed him when she was killed. Seeking revenge had offered little solace. That he might one day be able to return her to this world was the hope that had seen him through these past decades. The cleansing would be unfulfilling without her close, irreplaceable comfort.
He guided Selayna to her feet and took her hands in his own. “Go now and see yourself well attended. Mingle with our kinfolk. Spend no more time with those who are damned.”
She wiped tears from her eyes and smiled weakly.
“As you wish,” she stammered, then hurried from the hall.
It was silent once more. Malath stood, now not quite knowing what to do with himself. He was comfortable within the confines of his own mind, though. In past years he had grown partial to it. Much of his time he had spent in solitude, wandering the weathered wilds. Everything was soon to change, however. Soon he would be lord of these lands and his kind would look to him for guidance. They would honour him.
He made to exit the hall. As he walked, the statue of Akimr crumbled to the floor behind him, obliterated by the mere desire for it in his mind. It was soon to be replaced with a statue of his own figure; of one worthy to stand above all others.