Overture

by K R Schultz

  The glowing shield wall vanished. Simea and Aibhera dropped to the floor. Isil and Kyonna threw the gravel into the air. The gravel and sand arced toward the floor, then abruptly and violently changed direction, shooting toward Odium’s men, as though Kyonna had loosed it from a sling. The assassins at the front of the pack stumbled forward as soon as the shield dropped. When the debris hit them, some fell where they stood. The stones and grit killed a few, blinded some, and wounded others. Those near the back, who remained uninjured, stood stunned and immobilized, shocked, and confused.

  Before anyone could move, large furry bodies hurtled past Laakea into what remained of the crowd. Three wolves lunged at the men, snapping, and slashing at arms and legs, driving the assassins back into the chamber. The Nethera behind the altar shrieked and spat in rage, while the fellow in the black robes, knife in hand, waited to deliver a killing blow.

  Laakea stood slack-jawed and gaping for a moment, shook himself free of his astonishment, then joined the mêlée. He waded into the fray, swinging his swords with the last of his strength. Isil hobbled along behind him and made sure that the wounded would never rise again. Soon only a handful remained.

  Laakea and the rest of Rehaak’s rescuers advanced toward the altar, the wolves, snarling and snapping like dogs herding sheep, corralled Odium’s remaining fighters, and finished them off one by one. The Sokai stood immobile, staring at the wolves, their eyes wide, and jaws agape.

  During the sudden lull in combat, Laakea found his bow lying on the floor. He slid his swords into his belt loops and jerked an arrow from a body.

  Dreynar stood, with his knife poised for a killing stroke, ready to plunge it into Rehaak’s chest.

  Laakea nocked his arrow and drew the bowstring to his chin.

  “Not one step closer, or I kill your friend.” Dreynar placed the knifepoint against Rehaak’s skin. “He’ll make a fine present to Ashd’eravaak.” He jerked his head toward the Nethera, who hovered behind him. “And then he’ll feast on your lives too.”

  “Less’n it be a whole lot better at feastin’ than the last Dark One we met, it might find my large muscular friend here a might tough to chew and a bit more’n he can stomach. The last o’ its foul-smellin’ kind got an awful case o’ heartburn last night.” Isil bared her teeth and pointed at Laakea. “He stuck one o’ them shiny blades into its guts, and there ain’t nothin’ left o’ it ’cept a scorch mark in the grass.”

  The wolves snarled and menaced the Dark One, who spat and screeched in rage before it vanished, and the nasty stench in the gallery dissipated with its departure. Dreynar stood alone over Rehaak’s helpless body, so intent on the group facing him, he did not notice Ashd’eravaak’s withdrawal.

  “Yer phony god just abandoned you,” Isil taunted.

  As Dreynar turned his head to look behind him, Laakea loosed his arrow. It took Drey in the throat and drove him backward. The knife fell from his hand as he lay choking on his own blood.

  Isil rushed forward and cut the unconscious Rehaak free from the altar. “He’s chewed up somethin’ fierce, but he’ll be all right once we get him mended proper.”

  The three Sokai, still immobile, at the chamber entrance, stared at the wolves in astonishment.

  “What’s wrong?” Laakea asked.

  “It’s them.” Aibhera’s voice quavered, and she pointed a shaky finger toward the wolves. “The three members of the Bright Host. We have seen them in our dreams, and they have watched over you for many days.”

  “Are you talking about the green-eyed wolves? They have helped us before,” Laakea shrugged. “Not sure why.”

  “Those are no ordinary wolves,” Simea insisted.

  The wolves looked at one another and transformed before Laakea’s eyes. They stood upright and became three brawny men in armor that shone like Laakea’s breastplate.

  “We are sorry we deceived you and Rehaak,” the leader said to Laakea. “It was necessary for our mission. No one was supposed to know of our involvement. We must leave you now because the Nethera have broken our blockade between the Aether and the Nether and have breached Abalon’s location. Farewell, and fear not, we will return when we can.”

  Without further comment, the Aethera sheathed their weapons and strode toward the cave entrance.

  “Wait! We need more information,” Aibhera said. “If we need your help, how can we contact you? At least tell us your names.”

  The Aethera stopped, turning to look at Aibhera, and the leader bowed. “Since we are no longer accustomed to interacting with your kind, we forget your customs and courtesies. I am Sa’khalin, and these are my comrades, G’haelarin, and Sh’imbalaan. We cannot stay. You must find your own way forward, and may the Creator guide you. Farewell.”

  “But—” Aibhera sputtered, struggling to form another question, but the three Nethera turned away, strode toward the entrance, and disappeared around a bend without another word.

  “Well, that was just rude,” Kyonna grimaced and shook her head.

  “I don’t suppose we can expect the Aethera to be like us, Ky,” Aibhera said. “They promised to return. Let’s hold on to that promise.”

  “We must tend Rehaak’s wounds,” Laakea untied Rehaak. “Let’s get him back to the house before he bleeds to death, or more of those crazies show up.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Return to Forge

  While Simea and the girls stared down the passageway after the Aethera disappeared, Laakea scooped Rehaak off the altar and slung him over his shoulder. “Let’s get him outside into the sunshine where Isil can tend his wounds. It’s almost daybreak.”

  “What shall we do with these bodies?” Simea asked.

  “Leave ’em here and let ’em rot, I says. Them Odium nasties don’t deserve no decent burial.” In contempt, Isil glowered and jabbed one body with her staff.

  Laakea carried Rehaak past the carnage and led the others back toward the daylit opening ahead. “We can roll rocks across the cave entrance.” He toed a body aside with a grunt, clearing a path. “This cavern will become their tomb.”

  “Will your friend survive?” Kyonna asked Isil. “Rehaak looks near death.”

  “He took a beatin’, that’s for sure, but he will survive this too if’n I patches him up proper,” Isil said.

  “What did you mean when you said, ‘this too?’ Does he get attacked like this frequently?” Kyonna raised her eyebrows.

  “More often than anyone would expect. Trouble follows our friend Rehaak wherever he goes, and since we go with him…well…let’s just say, it’s dangerous to be Rehaak’s friend.” Laakea grinned, his feral smile showing his teeth wolf-like. “But…it keeps life interesting.” He stepped outside, blinking in the bright sunlight.

  Flies circled above the bodies of the men Laakea and Isil dispatched during the night, and the stench of death hung in the air. Once outside, Aibhera and Simea, gagged and vomited on the grass. The smells and sight of Rehaak’s wounds were too much for them to bear.

  Isil spread a blanket on the dew-covered grass and bandaged the worst of Rehaak’s injuries. Kyonna, the only Sokai with a stomach strong enough to aid Isil’s efforts, tore bits of cloth for bandages from the dead assassins’ clothing. When Simea and Aibhera recovered, they fetched water at the foot of the small waterfall and built a travois with poles and blankets, a tool to drag Rehaak to safety.

  Laakea remained alert for other Nethera-worshipers while he blocked the cave’s entrance with large stones. When he completed his task, he stood beside Kyonna and watched them treat Rehaak’s wounds.

  Isil pointed out Rehaak’s injuries as she worked. “Them spots, where they peeled off bits o’ skin, looks a might gruesome, but we ended the butchery afore they got too far, or he might o’ bled to death. Rehaak’s face be a mess ’cause they broke his nose and jaw.” She rose and arched her back to stretch out the tension. “I’s done patchin’ the holes in him for now. We best haul him back to the house afore he springs more leaks. It be near no
on, but if’n we hurries, we can get him to your home afore sundown.”

  Laakea handed Kyonna his bow and quiver. “Can you carry these for me?” She took them from his hand and slung the bow over her shoulder. Once relieved of the weapon, he eased Rehaak onto the triangular frame of the travois and picked up the narrow end. “Let’s move.” Laakea strode along, pulling his wounded comrade as Kyonna trotted at his side, and the others fell in behind them.

  Laakea dragged the travois since no one else had enough strength for the task. While they walked, Simea and the girls shared how their dreams led them out of Abalon.

  Where be this place you calls Abalon?”

  “It’s in the eastern part of the continent called Baradon,” Simea said.

  Laakea stopped and turned his head, his eyes bright with curiosity. “Baradon? That’s where my folks came from.” What’s it like?”

  Kyonna laid a hand on Laakea’s arm. “A bleak wasteland surrounds Abalon, which separates it from the rest of Baradon. Sim and my sister walked for days just to reach the edge of the desert.”

  Laakea’s face fell.

  “We really never saw Baradon. We shifted from the edge of the barrens directly to your aid.” Kyonna withdrew her hand in response to a stern look from Aibhera. “Tell us how your friend got himself into the fix back there.”

  Laakea and Isil told the Sokai about the series of attacks that led to Rehaak’s capture and their rescue mission.

  “We want to help,” Simea said, “but I’m not sure how helpful we can be in the face of the threats you described. We are not warriors like you. We don’t have your size, strength, or stamina. I still can’t believe how fast you walk with your friend loaded on the travois.”

  Laakea laid his burden on the ground to catch his breath and faced Simea. “You may be small, but you proved both your strength and your worth in battle. The wall of light you called up was more than helpful—it saved our lives.” He smiled at Kyonna. “The trick you did with the pebbles was amazing. Where did you learn that?”

  “Yes, where did you learn it?” Aibhera said.

  “Haven’t you ever wondered how I became the best Windrider? I push things. It was an accidental discovery. I almost crashed when I first started on the gliders. I panicked and prayed for a push to force me away from the cliff face. Power flowed through me, and it worked.

  “Whenever I pray for a push against the ground, it gives me more lift. That’s why I can carry heavier loads with less wind than anyone else. All the other Windriders think it’s because I’m so tiny and light, and there’s some truth to it, but it’s more than that. I expected if I prayed the same prayer against tiny things like the pebbles, I could move them instead of moving myself.”

  “Lucky for us it worked,” Laakea cast an admiring glance at the tiny girl who stood at his side. “There’s more to you than a pretty face.” He blushed, embarrassed he had spoken his thoughts aloud.

  Kyonna favored him with a smile and a toss of her ringlets.

  “Let’s get moving again.” Laakea picked up the poles of Rehaak’s stretcher and set a brisk pace.

  After several rests along the trail, they reached the house just before nightfall. Isil and Kyonna cleaned Rehaak’s wounds and rebandaged them after they smeared the worst cuts with a salve from his store of medicines. He drifted in and out of consciousness, crying out whenever the pain of their ministrations became too great to bear.

  Once Kyonna and Isil finished their work, Laakea put him into Aelfric’s bed to recover, while Isil stayed by the bedside and sang prayer-songs over him. Although exhausted from pulling the travois, Laakea spoke with the three young Sokai. “Thank you again for your timely arrival. You saved all our lives, but the quest is not over. Ashd’eravaak and his kind still seek to rule Aarda and will do anything to accomplish their goals.”

  “You are welcome. What is your plan now?” Aibhera asked. “Our dreams led us here, but we have no notion of what we must do next. We will follow your lead, just tell us what we must do.”

  “Not me, but once Rehaak recovers, I expect a trip to Narragan, the Abrhaani capital city. He has been on a quest for The Aetheriad, an ancient book.”

  Simea’s eyes widened. “Eideron mentioned that book before he died. He said it might prove useful to combat the Nethera.”

  Aibhera’s brow furrowed. “It appears we are on the same quest.”

  Laakea nodded. “Yes. Rehaak’s search has centered here on Khel Braah, but he might travel soon to Baradon. That is why I asked about it earlier.”

  “I’m sorry, but I am so exhausted I must rest now and recover,” Simea apologized.

  “I feel the same,” Aibhera added. “When we become conduits of the Creator’s power, it takes a toll on our physical bodies. We can speak more about this tomorrow.”

  Laakea nodded. “I understand how you feel. My body feels as heavy as lead, and I can hardly keep my eyes open. If they attacked now, I couldn’t lift my swords—it gives new meaning to the phrase, dead tired.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Recovery

  On the fifth day after his rescue, Rehaak awakened, and although swathed in bandages, he insisted on sitting up to speak to Laakea and the others after breakfast. The Sokai sat on the benches built by Aelfric for his family, their chins barely crested the tabletop, and their feet dangled above the floor.

  Rehaak spoke slowly, in obvious agony from his injuries. “Other people might blame the Creator for my suffering, but I do not. I bear the responsibility for my pain since I strayed from the path set before me. I walked away from the Creator’s love and the protection He provided for me through my friends. My god has proven faithful throughout my unfaithfulness, my misery, and even outright rebellion. My entire life, to this point, has been a search for the place I belong, and one long lesson in trust.

  “It shames me that it took this long, but I finally trust the Creator and the people He placed in my life.” Rehaak paused to gather strength and held up his hand to silence Isil, who was about to interrupt. “Isil and Laakea, you have proved your faithfulness despite my vacillation. I realize now that my obligation for your safety ends where your choices begin. Where I have no control, I have no responsibility.” He nodded to Isil. “You were right, there are things worse than death, and living, crippled by doubt, and a false sense of responsibility fits in that category.”

  “You have struck a courageous and decisive blow to the work of the Dark Ones. I owe you my life.” Tears filled Rehaak’s eyes. He bowed his head to each person gathered around the table, then folded his hands in his lap and lowered his head in humility.

  Laakea broke the silence. “The fight is not over. The Nethera still desire our deaths, but I intend to make weapons to defeat them. While you recovered, we returned to the cave and collected more ehlbringa weapons from Odium.” He pointed to the forge-house where the stack of several dozen ceremonial knives lay waiting. “I can reforge them for our use, and they are deadly to the Dark Ones. I can equip us all, given time, and I believe we have bought time with our victory.”

  Rehaak braced his hands on the tabletop and leaned forward. “I pray you are right. There are several ways we hindered Odium’s work here in Khel Braah.” He raised his hand, holding up his index finger. “First, we incited them to reveal their activities.” He raised a second finger. “Second, the entire village of Dun Dale now knows of their plots.” He winced and shifted his position in Aelfric’s chair at the head of the table. “That does not seem important yet, but I expect word will spread to New Hope and other towns. News travels with remarkable speed between the settlements out here. We are not alone in this battle anymore.”

  “Yes, and the Aethera sprang to our aid,” added Simea. “That’s no trivial thing. When we worked together, it prompted them to help us and reveal themselves. The Aethera are powerful allies, but I’m concerned the Nethera have discovered Abalon’s location.”

  Aibhera cupped Simea’s shoulder. “But that might benefit us. Now we hav
e proof of Nethera activity. If Abalon is under attack, it might force our people to join the fight.”

  Kyonna scowled at her sister. “Or it might not. You don’t know how they’ll react. They’ll probably blame it on you for leaving Abalon. There’s still so much we don’t know. We don’t understand the importance of writings like Eideron’s fragment of The Book of S—”

  Aibhera silenced Kyonna with a nudge. “But we have used our songs to receive power from the Creator. The Book of Songs might encourage people here to follow the Old Way again, right, Isil?”

  Isil acknowledged Aibhera’s comment with a nod, then said, “And as I tol’ Laakea, we thinned ’em out a bunch. They is gonna be a long while collectin’ more o’ their followers afore they messes with us again, ’specially if they be workin’ in Baradon too. They is gonna be spread mighty thin for a spell.”

  Rehaak winced as he stood erect. His voice gained power. “The most important thing…we are no longer alone in this struggle, and we know the enemy’s objectives. To the demon and his followers, we are a significant obstacle on Ashd’eravaak’s road to conquest.” Vacillation had evaporated like water in a pot left on the fire. He stood determined to face his fate.

  He looked at the faces of the others from behind his bandages. “Before they can win, every follower of the Old Way must die or feed their endless appetites. The Nethera hover like a thundercloud over Aarda. We stand beneath the glowering sky to avert Ashd’eravaak, the storm god’s wrath, and wait for the lightning of his anger to strike, and we are its target.

  “Although we are few, we still struck a powerful first blow against the Dark Ones. The Nethera deceive those who follow them, so they believe they are doing what is best for mankind. There may be hope for them if we can convince Odium’s members of their error. Our aim has become clear, and we bought time to recover and prepare. We have good friends and reliable allies with new knowledge and potent weapons. Dawn is coming.” His voice grew weaker with each sentence.