Wycaan Master: Book 02 - The First Decree

by Alon Shalev

  “That’s enough,” Tarlach’s strong voice boomed. “I have her. I can hurt her.”

  Seanchai stopped. He saw Ilana, sitting against a wall, shivering and hugging herself as waves of pain shot through her body. Seanchai’s voice became a growl. “You’ve lost, Tarlach. You’ve lost before, and you know you’ve lost again.”

  “I don’t think so, my young Wycaan,” Tarlach’s voice was steady and patient, as if he had all the time in the world. “You never completed your training. In fact, you barely even started. Your teachers have a nasty habit of dying, I hear.

  “Allow me to teach you a basic lesson that any soldier learns: Know your enemy. What you fail to know about me, young elf, is that I have no heart, no conscience. I’m the epitome of the human warrior. I was born to command, to conquer, and to win.”

  Tarlach smiled before continuing. “I studied my enemy and know that he has a soft spot for his friends. This weakness lured him into my trap at Galbrieth, from which he barely escaped. He has a conscience, which is why he allowed a couple of his friends to remain in this living tomb. And, most of all, he’s in love, and will do whatever he must to save his mate.

  “Well, I’m going to give you that opportunity. Even now, poison runs through her body, and only I have the antidote. Come with me to the capital. Meet the Emperor. He is looking forward to meeting you.”

  “What about Shayth?” Seanchai felt that the words leaving his mouth were not his own.

  “Forget about me,” Shayth hissed. “Let me . . .”

  Seanchai put out a hand to stop him.

  “Seanchai,” Sellia said but got no further.

  “What about Shayth?” Seanchai repeated.

  Tarlach shrugged. “Again, he is for the Emperor. Shayth is family. Family is always so complicated.”

  “And the dwarves?”

  “They become subjects of the Empire. It will end the bloodshed, Seanchai. You have the opportunity to end the violence here and now.”

  Seanchai’s gaze went from Tarlach to Ilana. She looked up at him, her pale skin dripping with sweat and tears. She summoned all her strength to rise haltingly.

  “You made me a promise, Seanchai,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Tarlach began to silence her, but stopped. “You promised to love me forever,” she continued. “You swore to be my partner in all I am, all I believe in. You promised never to betray me or do anything to destroy my dreams. You swore in the ancient language.”

  She slid back to the floor. Seanchai couldn’t take his eyes from her. His chest was heaving; his sweaty palms clenched the Win Dao swords.

  “You heard her words,” Tarlach said, oozing false sympathy. “You can fulfill her dreams. You can make her very happy.”

  Seanchai wrenched his eyes slowly from Ilana to Tarlach. He stared at him.

  “Ilana,” he said after a few moments. “I love you, more than anything in the world. You know that, right? I must hear you say it.”

  “I know, Seanchai, and I love you too. I’m sorry it must end this way, but this is why the oath is binding. You must keep your word.”

  Still staring at Tarlach, Seanchai continued. “You are my soul mate, and I’ll make good my oath. I keep all my oaths.” He turned slowly to Shayth, his voice breaking. “Tarlach is yours.”

  Seanchai looked at Ilana one more time and turned around. He heard Ilana cry out, “Sellia! Keep your oath, too, and I die in peace.”

  Seanchai felt Sellia’s arm around him as they walked out from the hall. Victory was theirs, but it felt so very hollow.

  Shayth slowly drew his broadsword and stared at Tarlach. “I’ve waited for this moment for most of my life, craving the opportunity to kill you. But I’ll let you live, Tarlach. Give her the antidote, and I’ll spare you.”

  Tarlach smiled. “You’ve become soft, Shayth. I wouldn’t expect you to care about a she-elf. What have they done to you?”

  Shayth stared back. “Done to me?” he sneered. “It’s what they’ve donefor me. They gave me what you took away. The Emperor took my parents from me, but your cowardice stripped me of all hope and humanity. The elves and the Wycaan gave these things back to me, and I like how it feels.”

  “I did not harm you,” Tarlach replied, and Shayth was surprised to hear sadness in his voice. “I took you into my house. I grieved your father’s death. I even tried to free you in Galbrieth. You know it was I who had worn the black garb. You saw the wound on my forehead when they brought you to my office afterwards. So you see, my dear Shayth, I do care.”

  “Not enough. You let the monster who killed my father live,” Shayth’s voice rose. “And you continue to this day to serve him. You denied your best friend the justice he deserved.”

  “You cannot bring your father back, you idiot,” Tarlach spat. “Prince Shindell was my best friend and a great man. I never got over his death. I never forgave myself.”

  “Then we have something in common,” Shayth said taking a step forward. “For I have never forgiven you either.”

  “You kill me, then she dies, too.”

  “I understand.”

  “So you would deny the life so dear to your best friend?” Tarlach sneered. “Where is your humanity? Are you so different from me?”

  Shayth hesitated a moment and glanced at the crumpled Ilana. She raised her head, straining with the effort, and he saw the plea in her eyes. At that moment, he had his answer.

  “There is no similarity. My father died because of worthless palace intrigue. Ilana will die to set Odessiya free. Don’t you dare compare yourself to her or Seanchai. You’re not worthy. Maybe I’m no better than you and that saddens me. But somehow, Seanchai, Ilana, Rhoddan, and Sellia have allowed me to think I still have a part to play: that I can put things right.

  “And unbelievable though it seems, I offer that same gift to you. Put down your sword and give her the antidote.”

  Tarlach stared at him, and then smiled. “You’re a foolish boy who follows another foolish youth. You can’t comprehend the Emperor’s power, and you underestimate mine.”

  Tarlach leapt forward, and their broadswords clashed. Faster and faster the swords flew, and Tarlach pushed Shayth back, but then the youngster ducked, rolled to one side and took the upper hand. They parried back and forth, neither giving way, sparks flying from their blades. Shayth, despite the growing fatigue, felt exhilarated. He became engulfed in the moment, and years of rage erupted from his heart into his arms and legs. He dueled faster and faster, finally forcing Tarlach to retreat.

  The general back stepped around the room, blocking Shayth’s blows. On the defensive, the experienced swordsman barely held his own. As he retreated past Ilana, she found enough energy to stick out a foot. Tarlach stumbled, giving Shayth the chance to leap forward and drive his blade straight through the general’s heart.

  Tarlach fell to his knees. He reached for the small vial in his pocket and smiled at Shayth. Then he smashed it on the ground, the antidote seeping into the cracks of the stone floor. He stared at Shayth as blood poured from his chest and his lips.

  “You once a-asked . . . me a q-question that . . . I-I never answered. I don’t know . . . if I would . . . have . . . let them . . . t-take you . . . from my house.” He wheezed, struggling to take in more air. “I don’t know, but . . . I hope . . . I would . . . have stopped them.”

  “And that,” Shayth replied, drawing his sword out from the general’s body, “is why I side with the Wycaan. You hope you might have come to my defense. He knows he would have.”

  Tarlach stared into Shayth’s black eyes and then collapsed to the ground. Shayth bent down to Ilana. He scooped her up in his arms. Her skin was cold and clammy.

  “Shayth,” she whispered. “I want to die above ground . . . to see the sky . . . one last time . . . with Seanchai.”

  Shayth, hugging her limp body, charged from the hall. He saw Seanchai and yelled for him to follow. They ran through the palace and out through the northern entrance to a peak on the west
ern side. Seanchai sat on a flat boulder, and Shayth rested Ilana on his lap. As the sky blazed red, Seanchai held her close.

  “Do you see the sun setting, Ilana?” Seanchai asked, tears falling from his eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

  “No,” she whispered, her eyes now closed. “I . . . see . . . a new . . . dawn . . . rising . . . over . . . Odessiya. It’s beautiful. D-do you see it?”

  “No, but I will,” Seanchai replied holding her tightly, his voice breaking. “And I swear, all of Odessiya will see it, too.” He stroked the hair from her face. “Ashbar,” he whispered, sealing his oath in the ancient language.

  And Seanchai drew her close one final time.

  EPILOGUE

  Ahad walked numbly through the palace corridors. His father, forever invincible in his eyes, was dead. Reports were confirming that Shayth had murdered him, killing the great man who had once taken the young orphan into his house.

  Ahad had seen the Emperor only once before. Then he had approached in terror. Now he felt nothing. He didn’t care what the Emperor had to say. He wanted only to leave, to track down and face his father’s murderer.

  He waited in the anteroom without looking at the art or the books. He didn’t touch the beverages or fruit. He didn’t care how long he waited. It was irrelevant.

  When he was shown in, he went down on one knee as instructed, but didn’t bow his head. He assumed the Emperor, hidden behind the veil, noticed, but he didn’t care.

  “I am sorry for your loss, Ahad. Your father was my finest general and served me well. You follow in his footsteps. You have helped my son and became his friend. You are a trained warrior. I am glad to take you officially into my service.”

  Ahad didn’t respond.

  “Usually,” the Emperor continued, clearly affronted, “I am thanked for such a gesture. Why do you not show appreciation?”

  Ahad cleared his throat. “My lord. If you wish to reward me, free me from your service. Give me a sword, a horse, and your blessing.”

  “Where would you go, Ahad?”

  “To track the scum who murdered my father.”

  “And when you find him?”

  “I will kill him and the elf that rides with him.”

  “You might be a match for Shayth, but not for the Wycaan.”

  Ahad felt his temper slip. “How do you know?”

  Through the veil, he saw the Emperor stand.

  “Ahad. I will grant you your wish in time. But first you will receive special training so that you can go forth and avenge your father’s death. Kill my nephew. But you will not fight the elf. Only one person lives in Odessiya who can now best his Wycaan skills.”

  “And who is that?” Ahad snapped before he could stop himself. In a quieter voice, he said, “My lord, excuse me. Let me serve the one who can kill the elf.”

  “I grant you that wish, too,” the Emperor said, “and in doing so, I reveal a secret that only a handful in this land know.”

  With that, the Emperor pushed the veil back. Ahad stared into the face of his ruler – it was smooth, his muscles tight, and as he removed his turban, Ahad saw long, snow-white hair.

  “All Wycaans have white hair. Now you know, Ahad. Only a Wycaan Master can defeat a Wycaan. When you find him, you will have the ability to summon me. I will unleash the full force of a Wycaan Master, and the Wycaan elf they call Seanchai will die. I swear this to you in memory of your father.

  “Ashbar.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE:

  Dear Friend,

  If you are reading these words, you have hopefully come through these many battles relatively unscathed. I hoped you laughed and cried with these characters, as I have. We share a common bond as those who fight side-by-side for a common good always form, and I hope you will join me and continue with them into the third book, Ashbar.

  There are many great epic fantasy novels to choose from and I am honored you decided to read The First Decree. Please consider leaving a brief review if you purchased this book online. Feel free to contact me at anelfwriter@gmail.com or sign up for my weekly blog post at http://www.elfwriter.com. I also tweet at @elfwriter.

  Thank you, again,

  Alon

  NON-FANTASY NOVELS BY ALON SHALEV:

  Unwanted Heroes (Three Clover Press, 2012)

  A Gardener’s Tale (Three Clover Press, 2011)

  The Accidental Activist (Three Clover Press, 2010)

  The story continues:

  Wycaan Master, Book 3:

  Ashbar

  by Alon Shalev

  ISBN: 978-0-9884428-7-0 (paperback)

  Tourmaline Books, Berkeley, California

  Coming out in 2013

  “Hear my words and hearken to my warnings. For I have seen a vision of the future and it will surely come to pass.

  The Age of the Alliance will end with such blood spilt that will flow down the sides of the mountains and collect into a river of despair, flowing from the battlefield into extinction. And it shall be that when all civil society collapses, so too will the destiny of many races, but none will fall so low as the elves.

  Many of our people will lie still forever, decomposing among the weeds and those who live will become a pitiful people, a social underclass. Dignity will be lost, hope forgotten and the Elf Code only a myth, the rambling of fools.

  The Age of Man will be upon the land, it values forged by iron and weapons, greed and power. And the humans will waxen and spread throughout the land, taking all that they need and desire, leaving their scraps for the survivors of the other races to carve out a humble existence.

  So hearken to my word, proud elves, for you are the most ancient of peoples, the founders and custodians of the Great Alliance. Take your sons and daughters and head into the West, to the great forest of Markwin. Fortify its magical boundaries and close yourselves off from the madness that will erupt.

  Preserve the Elf Code, learn and develop the magic of the earth. And wait. For though many of the Wycaan warriors will fall in defense of the Alliance, there will be those who survive and pass on the teachings.

  Wait and be patient, my people. For I have seen that one will come from the East, a Wycaan of our own ears, pointed and proud. But he will be young and unstable, ready to fall by the way. Teach him then our heritage and ways. Train him to find his inner core, and provide him with the foundation he will need.

  For it falls to him to reforge the Alliance and he must not fail. For his failure will be the end of the elves, and the dwarves, and all the races save those of man. Then all that will stand between man and his greed will be the earth itself and the earth will not be subjugated. Life as we know it will end . . . forever.

  Wycaan Master Tansu

  From the Book of Prophecies.