Beast of Zarall

by E B Rose

  Valnar scowled. Of course, he’d heard of the Haari. They were a nation that lived thousands of years ago. During the wars against the half-demons, they’d refused to aid the other nations. After the war, they were the only country left with any money and resources. They’d attempted to conquer the surviving nations under their flag.

  Kiejain flew over them on Karaalev, and cursed them with a deadly sickness that didn’t harm anyone else other than the Haari.

  The Haari’s advanced medicine and magic let them down. By the time half their nation was decimated, they’d realized their mistake. They built temples for the Twelve Riders and prayed to Kiejain day and night. They held rituals that lasted for weeks, they even gave animal and human sacrifices in his name, but Kiejain never listened.

  The leader of the Twelve Riders was unforgiving. None of the Haari survived.

  Valnar narrowed his eyes at the drunk. The man had one long glove on his right hand. He must have lost the other one. He had messy beard and stained clothes. He sat on the floor, leaning against Yolgezer, Zaon’s bronze dragon. He sipped from his wine bottle; his eyes half-closed.

  “I did not commit any sin,” Valnar grunted.

  “Oh yeah? Then why do you beg for his forgiveness?”

  Valnar growled. “Mind your own business.”

  When he closed his eyes again, he heard the way Beast yelled out his name. The slave was scared and begging. Valnar opened his eyes, and fidgeted.

  “He’s just a slave,” he defended himself out loud. “He’s not even human. And they’re right; he’s disobedient, arrogant, dangerous. He needed to be... taught his place.”

  “Dude, I don’t care,” the drunk said. “In fact, none of these guys and gals care. Not even Kiejain.” He held out a finger. “Maybe, except for Kyrus. That guy still tries, every now and then.” He took another sip. “What a loser.”

  “Lodi made so many sacrifices already,” Valnar continued, talking mostly to himself. “He’d agreed to terms I never imagined he would. He needs this alliance so badly. I... I wasn’t going to let some slave stand between him and everything he’d been working for.”

  The drunk sighed, but didn’t reply.

  Valnar took a deep breath, held his head high. He looked at Kiejain’s face. “I’ve committed no sin. He’s a slave, an abomination. He doesn’t have a rhoa. He’s not human.”

  Kiejain didn’t reply, neither did the drunk. Valnar couldn’t tell if his heart felt lighter or not. He looked over his shoulder, but the drunk was gone. Zaon’s statue stood alone. An empty bottle of Serpentblood wine stood at Yolgezer’s feet.

  Valnar picked up the candle. He cursed under his breath when the hot wax burnt his fingers. He left the temple and walked back to the manor.

  BEAST

  “Move,” Vadithas commanded.

  Beast’s wrists were bleeding. The manacles had cut his flesh badly. He rested his forehead on the floor and watched his blood trickle down his hands.

  “I said, move.”

  His ankles hurt too. His whole body did. His body, his flesh, ached from head to toe. His chest was burdened with a feeling he couldn’t label. It was worse than any hurt.

  “I told you to... Ohh... Good. That’s good. Good slave. Faster.”

  VALNAR

  When Valnar got back to his room, all he could think was sleep. He unbuckled his belt and propped his sword against the wall. His bed invited him. Before accepting the invite, he opened the adjoining door to Lygor’s room, just enough to hear the prince’s steady breathing.

  Lygor was all that mattered. Valnar couldn’t let anything stand between his prince and the throne; not even his own remorse.

  He closed the door and stripped off his clothes. He crawled under the blanket and surrendered to sleep.

  BEAST

  Vadithas grabbed Beast’s hair, damp with sweat. He yanked his head up and forced him to face the mirror in front of them.

  “Look,” Vadithas ordered. “Do you see it?”

  Beast looked at his own reflection. He sobbed, closed his eyes.

  “No.” Vadithas pulled his hair back until Beast’s neck hurt. He forced his eyes open. “I want you to watch yourself.”

  Beast watched the miserable face he didn’t recognize.

  Vadithas’s face smiled over his shoulder. Master of Blood licked his lips. His eyes rolled back with pleasure.

  “Do you see it now?” Vadithas grunted. “Do you see what you are?”

  He did.

  VALNAR

  “Valnar. Valnar, wake up.”

  Valnar opened his eyes from an uncomfortable sleep. He didn’t feel rested at all. He pushed himself up on his elbows and rubbed his eyes. Ink stood next to his bed.

  “Is everything alright?” Valnar asked, straightening up quickly. “Lodi...?”

  “Yeah, Lygor’s alright.” Ink walked over to the tall windows and pushed the curtains open. Bright daylight filled the room. It was past sunrise.

  “I’ve slept in,” Valnar said in surprise.

  “You did.” Ink chewed his lips. “I... I saw Master Vadithas at breakfast,” he said quietly. “He said... we can collect him.”

  Valnar didn’t ask who. An unexpected dread filled his stomach. Yet, he climbed out of the bed and started dressing up. He left his sword propped against the wall and followed Ink outside.

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “He said one of the training rooms at basement level.”

  They found the stairs going down and they descended into another world. The expensive curtains, flower decorations, elaborate paintings and statues that filled the hallways with colour had left their places to bland, stone walls and nothing else. Each step in that grey world made Valnar feel more depressed.

  Two armed servants greeted them where the rest of the hallway was separated by a barred gate. They opened the gate as if already expecting them. Ink asked them which training room the purebred beast was kept in, and the servant gave them directions.

  As Valnar approached the door, his feet felt heavier than ever. He remembered what the drunk had said earlier, accusing Valnar of feeling remorse. It made no sense. In order to prove himself wrong, he took the lead. When he reached to grab the doorknob, the last thing he’d expected was for it to open from inside.

  Four men walked out. For a moment, Valnar thought they’d gotten to the wrong room. He was even going to apologize to the men. They acknowledged Valnar and Ink with curt, evasive nods. The last of them, who had half a dozen rings on his ears, winked at them. “All yours.”

  Ink walked past him while Valnar stood in the hallway, looking behind the men. He was confused and somewhat disturbed. He followed Ink inside and closed the door.

  “What were they...” Valnar started, then paused.

  Ink was frozen. He looked sick. Valnar followed the Kaldorian’s gaze and saw him.

  Beast was chained on the floor, in the centre of half a dozen mirrors. He’d curled up on himself, his face hidden in the crook of his elbow. His bare skin was covered in sweat and other stuff that Valnar didn’t want to identify.

  He looked away, which was a mistake, because then he saw the tables and the trays full of sickening tools. He doubled over and threw up.

  Ink snapped out of his shock first. He kneeled beside Beast, put his hand on his shoulder. The slave recoiled from his touch. He made a sound that Valnar didn’t have words to describe. The closest he could think of was, broken.

  “It’s okay,” Ink said. “It’s us.” He took his cloak off and covered the slave’s body with it.

  Valnar rushed out of the room and looked down the hallway, where those four men had disappeared. His face was flushed. A vein was throbbing on his neck and his hands were twitching. If he hadn’t left his sword in his room, or if he knew the men were still nearby, he would have gone after them, though he couldn’t reasonably justify why.

  “Valnar, find the keys,” Ink called, and Valnar returned to the room. He searched the tables for the keys,
doing his best not to look at the tools.

  The tools… Uniting Kiejain…

  He found the keys in one of the drawers and handed them over to Ink.

  Valnar stood back while Ink unlocked the manacles on Beast’s wrists and ankles. They were covered in dried blood. Beast only raised his head, slightly, when Ink gently pulled the iron muzzle off his head. Then, he buried his face back under his arms.

  “Help me get him up,” Ink told Valnar. He grabbed one of Beast’s arms.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  The slave’s voice was flat. It was neither loud, nor quiet. Empty. He tensed as if Ink’s touch burnt his flesh.

  “It’s okay. We’ll take you somewhere safe.”

  “Don’t touch me.”

  Ink slowly pulled his hands back. “Okay...” He glanced at Valnar. “Okay, we’ll... How about we give you a minute? Get you some clothes...”

  Beast didn’t reply. He didn’t raise his head. His arms wrapped around his head; he was shaking under the cloak. He made no noise.

  Ink stood up and gestured Valnar to walk outside with him. They closed the door behind them and gave the slave some privacy.

  “I...” Valnar babbled. “I didn’t...”

  Ink pressed his fist against his mouth. He was staring at the wall intently. He had an expression Valnar had never seen on his face before. It was hostile.

  Valnar took a deep breath, opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say. He propped his back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I’ll fetch some clothes,” Ink mumbled finally.

  “Ink?” Valnar grabbed his arm to stop him. He licked his lips. “Lygor can’t know about this.”

  Ink’s eyebrows drew a fierce scowl. He shook his arm free. “Lygor can’t feign bliss on this,” he sneered. “The man openly declared what he was going to do to him.”

  “I know, but... He doesn’t need to know the details.”

  “Details,” Ink repeated, shaking his head.

  “He needs this alliance, Ink. If he knows, he won’t be okay with this.”

  “Won’t he?” Ink didn’t wait for Valnar’s response. He stormed off the hallway, leaving him alone.

  Valnar slid down the wall. He crossed his arms on his knees and stared at the door. He couldn’t unsee the state Beast had been in; the way he hid his face, how he recoiled and trembled.

  The sound he made...

  Valnar sighed heavily.

  “Kiejain,” he prayed. “Please forgive me.”

  37

  TESLATURAHEL

  Tesla was swimming in a painful jumble of senses.

  He gasped in pain, too dizzy to even think of anything, let alone to move. He was lying face down. The task of figuring out which part of his body hurt most was an effort.

  His stomach felt wet and numb. His shoulders ached. Thousands of tiny glass shards snuck inside his clothes and stabbed his skin. The potent smell of salt water burnt his nose. He glued his eyes shut against the blinding light and wished he could protect his ears from the deafening roar.

  After what felt like an hour, Tesla recollected his thoughts just enough to remember about the ship. He forced his eyes open and was rewarded with a vicious headache. The daylight was blinding. He retched and sobbed. Then, he remembered the spell-binding collar wasn’t on his neck anymore.

  He mumbled a spell hoarsely. He pointed his fingers towards the chain between his shackles. An acidic gas came out of his fingertips. It burnt his back. Tesla gasped and panted through his clenched teeth. The acid ate the chain slower than it ate Tesla’s skin, but eventually, the chain weakened enough to break.

  Tesla pushed himself up to a sitting position, put one hand on his forehead and other on his chest, then cast the sensory integration spell.

  The world dimmed.

  The world finally dimmed.

  Painfully bright colours faded; the deafening roar reduced to a soft whisper. He gasped and almost collapsed into a peaceful slumber.

  He could think again.

  He looked around to discover he was on a beach. His clothes were full of sand, which irritated his skin, but was a lot more tolerable now. The sun was setting. Its orange light reflected on the white-gold sands. The deafening roar which busted his skull earlier was the sound of waves washing the shore. A rocky bushland started several feet from the beach.

  He could neither see any people, nor any sign of civilization around him. Not even a clue about his whereabouts, though that was the least of his concerns.

  First things firsts.

  He was still losing blood. The left side of his shirt was soaked red. He felt weak and numb. He’d lost too much blood. He neither had any ingredients, nor the strength to cast a healing spell. He knew what he needed to do.

  This wasn’t going to be fun.

  Tesla raised his shirt and examined the stab wound. It was a thin, narrow slash, and it felt deep. He put two fingers over it, braced himself, and cast a low-level fire spell. He moved his fingers all over the wound, guiding the flames, to fully cauterize it before he passed out.

  *

  When he woke up again, it was dark. He still felt weak, but he wasn’t bleeding anymore. He needed to eat, gain his strength back, then figure out where he was and what to do.

  He stumbled up on his feet and started walking to the bushland. He rejected the idea of conjuring light; although it didn’t require much effort, it was best to reserve his resources. There was enough moonlight to watch his steps anyway.

  When he saw a long, dark stain on the sand, he paused. The shredded pieces of an old snake skin rested on the sand.

  His sea monster had brought him here after sinking the ship. Tesla didn’t remember any of it. Although he was grateful to the monster for saving him, Tesla was glad the spell wasn’t permanent. It would have been difficult to explain the Eternal Council why there was a giant snake-monster roaming the Chinderian sea. He buried the leftover snake skin under the sand and moved on.

  He saw a plant with wide leaves and purple fruits amongst the bushes. He was fairly sure the fruits were not edible. He lifted the hem of his shirt up and collected the fruits and some of the leaves. He found a space between the bushes, protected against the wind and wide enough to light a campfire. He lit a small one, then sat down with his inedible fruits and leaves, and cast a transformation spell that almost caused him to faint.

  The purple fruits turned to berries and the leaves to lettuces. He didn’t have the energy to transform plant matter into meat or grains, so he settled with whatever he could make. The spell was complex and draining enough that any mage below class five would struggle, even at full health.

  After eating his transformed food and regaining some of his strength, he dug a small hole in the sandy soil and summoned water. Another high-level spell that rewarded him with a blinding headache. The beach was still nearby and the earth was rich with water. He purified the water and drank as much as he could before the earth soaked it back.

  Food, water, and the warmth of his small campfire already made him feel better. He laid down on his back. His cauterized wound ached painfully, and he desperately needed some sleep, but he had some thinking to do. He had to analyse his situation and decide his next move.

  His best option seemed to be to return to Eternal Pillar and explain to the council everything that had been happening in Chinderia. King Kastian deliberately attempted to mislead his investigation, Queen Inoeveth and Prince Lotheris were unregistered mages, and Adept Belandir had used Darkhome spells. He’d cast a spell on the slave called Lion of Zarall, using a dragon bone object.

  A dragon bone that could be used to summon demons from Darkhome.

  He sat up. Returning to Eternal Pillar and convincing them to send someone would take months. From the rumours he’d heard while he was in Brinescar, Lion of Zarall was missing. He couldn’t risk a rogue mage like Queen Inoeveth getting her hands on the slave and the dragon bone. Tesla had to find the slave first, and take him to
Eternal Pillar.

  However, he had no clue where to even begin.

  Unless...

  The premonitions he’d been having couldn’t be a coincidence. He was certain his premonitions were about Lion of Zarall. He could use them to try and locate where the slave was.

  Except, studying premonitions were strictly forbidden by the Eternal Council.

  Tesla chewed his lips, thinking. He slumped his shoulders and sighed. He didn’t have much strength, and didn’t know how much this would require. He was hoping he could pull back before completely draining himself.

  He crossed his legs, placed his elbows on his knees, and closed his eyes. Inducing a premonition didn’t require any ingredients, spell items, gestures, or even words. All he needed was his will.

  He stilled all his thoughts and concerns. He focused on his breathing. For a long time, he saw nothing but darkness in the vision of his mind. He tried to visualize the images he’d seen in his nightmares. He saw nothing more than he forced himself to see.

  This wasn’t working. Maybe he should have just gone to sleep. If he slept, there was a chance he could see more of his premonition. It seemed like it was his only chance.

  When he opened his eyes, a deeper darkness greeted him. For a brief moment, he thought his campfire had died, but he quickly understood he wasn’t on that beach anymore.

  Apart from the shining white orb floating in the air twenty feet from him, there was nothing but darkness around him. He couldn’t even tell which way was up and which was down. He felt dizzy and stumbled towards a direction he assumed was down. After closing his eyes and regaining his balance, he stood up and looked at the white orb, small enough to fit in his palm.

  There were moving figures inside the orb. Tesla approached it with caution. The figures were too small to see clearly. He squinted his eyes and leaned in.

  Sand was swirling and falling into a hole. The orb was showing him his premonition, though it was too small to pick out the details.

  With the intention to turn and watch from another angle, Tesla touched the orb. A white slimy material covered his fingers, stretching from the orb like melted cheese.

  Tesla rubbed his fingers together, examining the sticky substance. He’d never seen anything like this before. Although he had no evidence, and no way to study it further, he understood this fluid was materialized light.