by K R Schultz
If we can draw Aelrin’s forces north, Kett’s plan might succeed. Possibilities flooded Aelfric’s mind. The Eniila have not seen cavalry for a millennium, and they are a massive tactical advantage for an army—my army. No wonder the northerners were secretive. The seeds of this revolt have taken generations to germinate. Only the gods plan with such foresight.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Doubts
Simea and the girls now understood how the ancient nursery songs contained prayers meant to focus their concentration and enable them to connect with the Creator in specific ways. They practiced every evening. With each practice session, they gained strength and confidence and could do more. Kyonna suggested it was like manual labor—the harder they worked, the stronger they got.
When their food ran low, and the water ran out, Aibhera Shifted to Abalon after dark, when the risk of discovery was slim and filled their canteens from lake Seletan. She also pilfered food from a storehouse to replenish their supplies.
While Simea and Kyonna waited for Aibhera to return, they sang as many of the ancient prayer-songs as they could remember, with varied and sometimes unexpected results. “Light of the World” became Kyonna’s favorite since it dispelled the canyon’s gloom and surrounded them with light.
The furry little quadrupeds with sharp teeth who had stolen their food shrieked and scurried for cover whenever she sang it to create light around the campsite. They clung to the canyon walls with long claws and furry prehensile tails while their large yellow eyes gleamed from the shadows. Kyonna would allow them to creep close to her pack, then sing the blazing light into existence. After she tormented them with several repeat performances, they kept a safe distance. Ky considered that an excellent benefit.
Once Aibhera returned, they trudged through the gorge’s dank gloom again. Three more days of effort brought the three Sokai out of the canyon and onto a flat gravelly plain. Scrub brush and short spiky yellow grass stretched westward to the horizon. The canyon was the only gap in a wall of black lava several meters high, too high, and smooth to climb. The wall of lava looked like a giant black cake sliced by an enormous knife. Far to the north, purple mountains raised their jagged profiles against the pale blue sky, and forests cast their hazy outline along the foothills.
Once out on the plain, they checked Eideron’s charts frequently while they traveled but soon realized his maps were useless. A thousand years of wind and rain had obliterated the landmarks mentioned on the map. The Sokai abandoned the other species and slipped unnoticed into Abalon, and it appeared a vengeful Baradon had erased them from its memory.
The plain’s flat sunlit surface was a welcome contrast to their trek through the cold, gloomy canyon. The sere grass crunched underfoot as they trudged tired and footsore toward an uncertain future. Aibhera and her party flushed clouds of large flies from cover as they walked. Small yellow birds with red breasts flying overhead swooped low and snatched the insects from the air as they flew.
The sun, their only guide, still rose in the east and set in the west. At least that much remained unchanged. They walked toward its orange glow in the western sky and hoped to find the narrow river shown on Eideron’s map. It had either dried up, or they had much farther to walk before they reached it and followed it to the abandoned metropolis of Berossus in the foothills. Centuries ago, the Sokai, fleeing Eniila oppression, left Berossus and set out across the barrens to Abalon. Before they abandoned the city, they sealed it hoping to return someday to reclaim it and the trove of technological wonders they left behind.
Doubts assailed Aibhera, who felt responsible for Eideron’s death. Shame weighed more than the pack she carried. To atone for her failure, she pushed herself hard each day and insisted she was okay.
Aibhera, at the lead, heard Simea whisper to Kyonna, “It’s her fault. She killed Eideron. We can’t trust her.” When she turned to face them, Simea lagged far behind her and Kyonna. They couldn’t have whispered together. The moment she turned forward; the whispers began again. “She’s under the influence of the Dark Ones.” “She’s evil. She will kill us all like she killed Eideron.” Aibhera wheeled around and shouted, “Stop that. I couldn’t help it, and I feel bad enough already. Just shut up!”
Kyonna looked puzzled. “Stop what? I haven’t said anything. I am too tired and hungry to waste energy talking.”
Farther behind, Simea stared at the ground and plodded behind the girls. Simea either hadn’t heard the girls’ exchange or was too lost in his own misery to respond. The voice in his head said, “You wasted the time spent with your master—-afraid of your own shadow— responsible for Eideron’s death. Your people need a hero, but you’re a clumsy clown who trips over his own feet—inept—incompetent. Eideron should have left you behind. The girls have a better chance without you.”
Simea looked around and waved his arms, “Shut up and leave me alone. I’ve heard it all before, from my mother. I can’t help it. After Father died, Mom expected too much of me. I was just a small boy. I wasn't strong enough or smart enough—
“You’re not a small boy anymore, but you’re still weak and stupid. You haven’t changed at all—loser—crybaby. You think Aibhera loves you, but you’re too foolish to see the truth. She only puts up with you because there's no one else. Blind—blind—blind, just wait and see. She could never love a clumsy fool like you, so someone else will win her heart. Maybe if you had the guts to tell her how you feel you might stand a chance—but you won’t—you’re afraid of hearing the truth—you’re so pathetic—she could never love you.
Simea stumbled on a rock. “See—you can’t even walk like a man—tripping over a pebble—disgusting.
“Shut up.” He raised his voice. “I said, shut up!” He whirled around and nearly fell.
His shout caused Kyonna to turn and look at him. “We never said anything. What’s the matter with you? Are you losing your mind?”
“Yes—you are. Don’t worry—you’ll die soon anyway.” The whispers grew louder, and Simea fell farther and farther back as the voice tormented him.
Kyonna kept pace with Aibhera, noticed the dark circles under her sister’s eyes, and wondered at the source of her companions’ foul moods and strange behavior, but kept silent. I won’t poke the bear.
The sun sank lower in the western sky, and shadows lengthened across the plain. Aibhera led Kyonna and Simea through the grassy plain and up a gentle slope. Once they reached the hilltop, they surveyed the area. Sunlight glinted off the water of a wide river that divided the plain ahead of them.
Simea pulled out Eideron’s map. “Finally, something that is on the map, but it’s supposed to be a small stream, not that. It's huge. No way we can cross that.” He lowered the map and pointed at the expanse of shining water. “We were stupid to think we could do this.”
“We must rest soon,” Kyonna said. “Once we reach the river, we might find a place to ford it.”
“We can get to the river before dark, camp there, refill our canteens, and look for a place to cross,” Aibhera put her arm around Simea’s shoulders to comfort him and stem his negativity.
Simea shook off her arm and stepped away from her. “We should Shift back to Abalon and forget the whole thing while we still have enough strength. We can beg the Synod’s forgiveness and blame Eideron for leading us astray.”
“What? Blame Eideron—you must be insane. You always want to quit when things are difficult,” Aibhera retorted.
“Oh, and you are always perfect,” Simea snapped at her.
“Stop it! Both of you! You know we can’t return to Abalon. The Synod will flog us or burn us at the stake if we go back! Besides, our dreams showed us what we must do.” Kyonna stopped when Aibhera and Simea stared at her.
“Don’t look at me like that. Yes, our dreams. I had the same dreams you had. Those three people fighting the Nethera have plagued my sleep for months now. The two of you needn’t think you’re special or that you’re the only ones who can have nighttime visions. Y
ou both made a big issue of your dreams, but I just wanted them to stop.
“You shared them with Eideron before you talked to me because I’m your brainless little sister. You thought I wasn’t important like you, Simea, or smart like you, Aibhera. I didn’t want prophetic visions. I only wanted to live my life, enjoy my job, and hang out with my friends, but the dreams wouldn’t go away.
“That is why I wanted to meet Eideron, Aibby. I had to come along with you, don’t you see…they need us so badly!” Tears spilled from Kyonna’s eyes and left wet trails through the dust on her cheeks.
Simea had never seen Ky cry, and Aibhera could tally those times easily, their father’s funeral being the most memorable.
“It will be fine, Ky. We’re sorry, please don’t cry,” Simea said.
“Let’s stop here,” Aibhera dropped her pack on the grassy knoll and wrapped her arms around her sister.
After they had prepared a meal, they sat around a fire wrapped in their blankets and ate in silence. Both Aibhera and Simea barely looked up from their food.
Kyonna said, “What’s the matter with you two? We crossed the wasteland and lived. We made it to Baradon. Nobody’s done that in a thousand years, so why the long faces? And why did you shout at me to shut up earlier when nobody was talking?”
“I thought you and Simea were saying nasty things about me,” Aibhera said.
“What nasty things?”
“You and Simea said I killed Eideron and that I was evil.”
“I said nothing like that, and neither did Simea. We weren’t talking at all, were we, Sim? I don’t know whose voices you heard, but they weren’t ours. You imagined it. What about you, Simea? Did you hear voices too?” Kyonna asked.
“Yes, I did.”
“What did the voices say to you?” Aibhera asked.
“Never mind. It’s not important. The important thing is we will never find the people from our dreams. Look around. There’s nothing but endless prairie in front of us, and a river we can’t cross blocks our path. Our mission is hopeless.” Simea stirred the fire and avoided eye contact with the girls.
Kyonna leaped up. Her eyes blazed, and she shook her fist at Simea. “So what do you propose we do, curl up in the fetal position and die in the middle of nowhere? The Creator gave us dreams for a reason. We survived the wasteland for a reason. He didn’t lead us out here to die. Stop listening to the lying voices in your heads. Each time we encountered an obstacle, we overcame it, and this is no different. It’s just another problem, and no problem is too big for the Creator to solve.”
Simea tensed as if he were about to argue with Kyonna, but Aibhera put a hand on his arm and said, “Ky’s right. We’ve listened to lies and should be ashamed of ourselves. Let’s continue and pray that the solution arrives before it’s too late.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Shared Dream
Simea and the girls awoke. They screamed, shot upright in their bedrolls, eyes wide, and trembling in terror. The campfire had turned to ash and embers. The girls clung to each other for comfort.
“The people from our dreams were in desperate distress,” Simea stared across the moonlit plain as if still dreaming.
“I saw them too. It’s horrible. They're skinning the older man alive. His friends are trying to rescue him, but they can’t because there are so many enemies, and the big warrior lost one of his weapons,” Kyonna’s eyes rolled in fear, and she shivered as though chilled. “It’s horrific. We must help them, or they will die, but we are too far away. What can we do?”
“They need help right now,” Aibhera stood to her feet. “We don’t have time to wander around any longer. We must Shift immediately to where the Abrhaani and Eniila are fighting the Nethera’s followers. If we don’t, the Nethera will win, and Aarda will fall under Nethera dominion.”
“How is that even possible? We have never Shifted to any location we don’t already know,” Simea rose to his feet and threw wood on the fire. “We could end up entombed in the stone around them, or we could get lost in the Aether. If we Shift near the Nethera… remember what happened to Eideron at the dark barrier? There are too many unknowns. It’s too risky. This nightmare may only be a warning, a prophetic dream like the others we have had. It may not be happening right now.”
Kyonna stood and poked Simea in the chest with a forefinger. “Do you really believe that, or is that your fear talking? I don’t know about you two, but the intensity of this dream tells me it’s happening now, or if not now very soon—too soon—we dare not wait any longer.”
Simea opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Aibhera grabbed his arm before he got the words out. “I agree with Kyonna, this nightmare was different, stronger, more immediate. They need our help now!”
“I can’t bear the thought of losing them when they seem so close, and the danger is so imminent.” Kyonna stiffened and balled her fists. “It’s worth the risk. They risk their lives for Aarda and us. How can we risk any less for them? You can stay behind if you want, Simea, but I’m going. Aibby, are you with me?”
Simea slumped and kicked dirt onto the campfire. “Okay, you win. Let’s do it, but how can we find them? We can’t see their location from the Aether. It’s underground.”
“That’s true, but we see them. What if we focus on the people instead of the location? That might get us there.” Aibby grasped Kyonna’s hand and motioned for Simea to do the same.
“We should aim for the young warrior, he has always been the clearest to me,” Kyonna said. “If we focus on the other man, we’ll end up too near the Nethera. That would be bad for everyone.” She grabbed Simea’s hand without waiting for further discussion. A newly created prayer-song flowed from her lips.
Aibhera joined Ky once she understood the words, and Simea held tight to the two sisters. The journey was unlike their practice sessions. There were no glowing clouds of power and no flowing music. Darkness surrounded them for a moment, followed by a thunderclap when they arrived. Bodies flew in every direction, as the force of their arrival hurled both groups of combatants apart.
“Dragan’s Wall, now!” Simea shouted to be heard above the ringing in their ears, an aftereffect of the deafening thunderclap. Surrounded by the smell of blood-soaked earth, he and the girls began the Dragan’s Wall prayer-song. The Creator’s power surged into the darkness and formed a shining wall between them, and the horde gathered near the sacrificial altar. It protected the warrior and the old woman while they recovered. The Sokai stood firm as the Nethera’s minions leaped to their feet, regrouped, and battered the Creator’s shield, trying to renew their attack.
Torches guttered, smoked, and cast flickering shadows across rough stone walls on both sides of the barrier. An amorphous black shape with baleful crimson eyes loomed behind a man in black robes. The robed figure, knife in hand, stepped back from the stone altar and the man tied there.
The putrid smell of gore nearly choked the Sokai, despite the urge to vomit, they continued their prayer-song. Behind them, the young warrior and the old woman struggled to their feet, while the horde of fanatics crowded forward and blocked access to the altar where the other man lay bleeding. Kyonna stopped singing and turned toward the warrior and the older woman. The horde threw themselves against the shield. It wavered but firmed and remained unbroken.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Unexpected
A blast staggered Laakea, and his remaining sword spun from his hand, leaving him weaponless. Isil lay stunned. Deafened by the explosion, they waited for the end to come, the sounds of their attackers muffled and distant. Three tiny ocher-skinned people, lips moving in unison, stood between them and their foes, and suddenly a wall of light blocked the passage between the small strangers and Odium’s assassins.
Isil rose, while Laakea retrieved his weapons, and wiped the blood off their grips on his pant legs. With swords in hand, he shrugged his shoulders and rolled his neck to get rid of the kinks. As his hearing returned, he could hear the little people s
inging. He stepped toward the small strangers who maintained the radiant barrier. One of the females turned to face him and stopped singing.
“I don’t know who you are or how you got here, but thank you for your aide,” he said. “I’m ready now. Can you let them through one at a time?”
“I think so, but running away is a better choice,” the youngest female replied, while the older girl and the male, still singing, maintained the wall of protection.
“We will not leave without our friend Rehaak.”
“Where is he?” the youngest woman asked.
“In there,” Laakea pointed with his sword toward the altar chamber. “Now let them through one at a time, so I can kill them all and rescue Rehaak.”
Isil used her staff for support and hobbled over to join them. “Maybe they got a better way, lad. Did you ask ’em that?”
“They might not, but I do,” the younger girl said with confidence. “By the way, my name is Kyonna.” She batted her eyelashes and smiled at Laakea. “That is my older sister, Aibhera, and our friend Simea.”
“Ky, stop flirting and do whatever you’re planning. Sim and I are tiring,” Aibhera said when she stopped singing for a moment.
“Fine. Aibby and Sim, on the count of three, drop the wall and let me try this.” She turned to Laakea. “And as for you, you big, strong, handsome thing,” she said, laying her hand on his blood-spattered forearm. “Get ready in case this doesn’t work.”
“Ky, hurry!”
Kyonna knelt on the floor of the passage and picked up two fistfuls of grit and gravel. She motioned for Isil to do likewise. “Now, on the count of three, throw this stuff up high in front of us. Sim and Aibby, once you drop the wall, hug the floor. Otherwise…never mind, just duck and cover. Everybody ready?” Kyonna watched and waited until Isil and the others nodded. “One, two, three.”