by B. A. Scott
“Your father would have you unmade if he heard you speak these words. I’ll give you one last chance, Vexen,” Velusia said as she unsheathed her blade, and walked toward her daughter. “One last chance to lay this nonsense to rest. Renounce this disloyalty you cling to. Take the child. Cut her throat, and all will be forgiven.” She pressed the sword into Vexen’s hand, and wrapped her daughter’s fingers around the hilt.
“Mother,” the Dark Princess pleaded, “don’t make me do this.”
“Now,” Velusia commanded.
“Mother, please—”
“Do it!”
Vexen took one step toward the girl, then cast the sword aside. She fell to her knees crying, eye to eye with the child.
“I knew the Boreans had help. You lack the strength of your kin,” Velusia told her disappointingly. “What disgusting filth you’ve revealed yourself to be. A waste of life, you dishonorable, ungrateful whelp of a daughter!”
At that moment, Dexius unsheathed his own blade. “I’ll do it, Mother!” he said as he shoved Vexen aside, and knelt, bringing his blade to the girl’s neck. Vexen pushed herself up from the ground, and grabbed the pitcher of water left by the Primen servant and smashed it over Dexius’s head, knocking him unconscious.
“Traitor child!” Velusia yelled, then slapped Vexen across the face with the back of her hand, sending her to the floor. Vexen scurried to her feet, away from her mother, holding her right cheek. A gash left by Velusia’s ring bled dark blood that mixed with Vexen’s tears.
Velusia cradled her unconscious son’s head in her arms. “Your tears,” she told Vexen, “may you drown in them, and wash the taint of your name from the greatness of your father’s.”
“He is evil, Mother!” Vexen yelled. “And every one of us is damned!”
Velusia roared upon hearing her daughter’s spiteful words, then picked up Dexius’s sword, and charged Vexen. The Dark Princess froze. The rage in her mother’s face was nothing she’d ever seen before. Velusia reared the blade back to swing a deadly strike at her daughter.
This is it, Vexen thought. The punishment for my disloyalty. She knew it was inevitable. Her admission could only end in death. But before Velusia could deliver her fatal strike, another blade sliced through her neck, and her head fell to the ground as her body landed at Vexen’s feet.
The Human man dropped the sword, blackened with Velusia’s blood, then collapsed to the floor. His daughter ran to him, and he embraced her with one arm. The other returned to his neck, where blood continued to pour.
The sight of Velusia’s decapitated body sent a chill of horror down Vexen’s spine. “Oh my god,” she said. “What have I done?” Her eyes found the child’s father. His face was deathly white, and he looked as if he had only seconds to live.
“Save her,” he begged as he looked into Vexen’s eyes. “Save my beautiful Taysha. Please.” Then, his eyes faded, and his hand fell lifeless to the floor.
Vexen couldn’t think. She looked from the man to his daughter. Then, to Velusia, and her brother, who still lay unconscious. When he wakes up... she thought, but her mind could not think of anything she could tell Dexius to convince him of her innocence in their mother’s death. And the child—Dexius would surely devour her if she was not taken away. I have to run, thought Vexen. I have to run NOW. She rose to her feet, and tried to pry the child from her father.
“No!” the little girl cried, not wanting to release her embrace.
“We have to leave!” Vexen told her. “Come with me now.” She held out her hand. “Taysha, I will keep you safe.”
The little girl battled with trusting Vexen, but at last offered her hand. Vexen quickly retrieved her mother’s sword, scabbard and bloodied contentment cloak, then took Taysha not to the tent’s entrance, but to the back, where she cut the material, and peeked out into the night. “Wrap this around you. It will protect you,” she said, covering the child with Velusia’s cloak like a blanket. “Hold onto me, and dare not make a sound. Quickly now.” Taysha wrapped her arms around Vexen’s neck as the Dark Princess put her hood up, then wrapped her own cloak around the child, concealing her as best as she could. Vexen turned to take one last look at the bloody scene behind her. “Close your eyes,” she said, then took a deep breath, and stepped out of the tent.
An icy wind blasted her, but the contentment cloak kept her comfortably unaffected. The child squirmed at first, then clung even tighter to her. It was a strange feeling—the girl’s embrace, Vexen thought. It was something she’d never felt before. A thing so dependent upon her that its life hung in the balance.
Her hood was blasted back by the wind, revealing her face for all to see. But the Primen, Blessed and Fated she passed merely bowed as she walked by. They wouldn’t bow if they knew what I have done, she thought. She picked up her pace, and as the camp began to thin, her heart beat faster and faster.
At the edge of the encampment, Vexen stood alone, looking out into the endless Wastelands. She wrapped her arms around the child, holding her close, then sprinted as fast as she could, eastward, into the darkness.
Not long after, Dexius stirred. His vision was blurred, accompanied by a painful pounding in the back of his head.
“Vex...” he said, still coming-to. “Vex, what’d—” he rolled over to see Velusia’s head only a few feet from his own. His mouth dropped, and he blinked the blurriness from his eyes. “Mother? Mother!” He crawled to her body. “Vexen?!” he called out for his sister. “Vexen, where are you?!” Then, the realization of what had happened slowly came to him. “What have you done, sister? What have you done?!”
He touched his forehead to his mother’s cold body. Tears wetted her black skin as Dexius screamed his sister’s name, then bellowed, “Traitor!” over and over again, his voice echoing throughout the entirety of the camp.
Table of Contents
Chapter 9: Into the Corren’dai
Dawn brought no warmth to Dareic’s skin as thick mud slowed he and Treäbu’s pace. They had entered the swamp sometime in the night. The trees were twisted and odd grey-green vines hung down from their crooked branches. Dark grey clouds blocked out any hint that a new day was emerging, and a heavy fog veiled the path ahead.
“Treäbu,” Dareic said, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of a skull half-buried in the mud.
“It was Skaelar,” Treäbu said, not bothering to examine it closely. He must have already seen it, and not wanted to say anything, Dareic thought. “And here, Humans,” continued Treäbu, nodding downward to a pair of cracked skulls, with rib cages jutting out from the ground. Dareic observed the remnants of the long-deceased men, then raised his vision to peer through the fog ahead. Though his sight was limited, he could see that the ground was littered with bones.
“Thiiisss is depressing,” Dareic said, moments before he jerked around at the sound of a fearsome growl. It came from somewhere in the trees. He drew his bow, and spun in a circle, pointing his readied arrow in every direction, while Treäbu stood perfectly still.
“We’re here,” said the Skaelar.
“The Corren’dai?” Dareic asked.
“Keep moving,” Treäbu drew his blades. They pressed forward, conscious of every scratch, snarl and howl they heard. Then, Dareic saw something green and scaly dart between the trees beside him.
“Treäbu!” he whispered loudly, motioning with his head in the direction of their pursuer. “Something’s following us! But I don’t think we can outrun it in this sludge.”
“So let’s just dispose of it then,” Treäbu told him.
All of a sudden, a snarling beast sprung from the foliage and tackled Dareic to the ground. It was lion-sized, though lizard-like—quick, agile and vicious with sharp claws and gnashing teeth.
The creature took no time in biting into Dareic’s shoulder as it pushed him into the mud. Treäbu made for Dareic, ready to skewer the beast, but another pounced at him from amidst the thick undergrowth.
Dareic roared in pain as the h
ellish-looking lizard upon him dug one of its claws deep into his face, forging a gash that ran from his forehead, down to his cheek. It scratched at him violently, and trails of blood soon flowed like a branching river down his arms.
Meanwhile, Treäbu was caught in a stand-off with the creature that had engaged him. They moved in a circle, each weighing the time to strike and never breaking eye contact. Suddenly, the creature jumped for Treäbu’s head, but the Skaelar ducked under the leaping beast, and sliced its underside, spilling intestines from its belly.
The strength in Dareic’s arms waned as a mouthful of sharp teeth slowly moved toward his face. Yet just before the creature’s jaws bit into his flesh, a green, leathery arm thrust a Skaelar blade through the beast’s head. It spasmed as Treäbu kicked it to the ground.
“Relative of yours?” Dareic asked, lurching himself up from the mud.
“Nemesi beasts,” Treäbu informed him. “Vega warned us—” The Skaelar’s attention quickly diverted elsewhere at the perking of his ears.
“Wait,” Dareic said as a realization came to him. “You just saved my life.”
“That’s right,” said Treäbu, returning his focus to Dareic.
“I guess that means you’re off the hook,” Dareic said.
“It does.”
“But you wouldn’t leave me in a place like this, would you?” Dareic asked.
The Skaelar took in his surroundings, then looked to Dareic and smiled with satisfaction.
“Hold on,” Dareic begged, reading Treäbu’s intent. “Treäbu, please.”
But Treäbu turned and ran, moving with surprising speed through the swamp. After a moment of shock, Dareic charged after him, cursing his name. “Treäbu! You steaming pile of bung fungus!” he yelled. “Mister ‘I’m so honorable’ and all that rubbish. Where’s the honor in leaving me to die?!”
He quickly lost sight of the Skaelar, trudged a few more sluggish steps, then slowed to a stop. Defeated and ankle-deep in thick muck, he braced himself against a tree. What do I do now? he thought to himself.
Dareic took in the sounds around him. Beyond the faint breeze and zipping of insects’ wings, he heard a low rumbling. The disturbing sound drew nearer, and frighteningly loud, filling Dareic’s heart with fear.
Then, to his great surprise, he saw Treäbu sprinting straight for him.
“Oh thank goodness,” Dareic said with relief. “Changed your mind, did you?!” he called out. But Treäbu had no look of remorse or atonement on his wide-eyed face. Instead, it was fraught with horror, for behind him, Dareic saw a gigantic shape crashing through the trees.
“Oh no,” he uttered wearily.
“It’s the Golgril!” yelled the Skaelar. “Rrrruuuun!” Dareic recalled Vega’s warning about the Corren’dai’s deadliest beast. The hairs on his neck and arms tingled, and stood on end. “Out of my bloody way!” Treäbu shouted, shoving Dareic aside as he passed him.
Dareic had only a fraction of a second to glimpse the enormous black creature before making a dead sprint for Treäbu. He stumbled as the ground shook with every thud of the beast’s massive feet. He feared that if he looked behind him, all he would see would be an open mouth, ready to chomp him in half, for he could feel the creature’s hot breath on the back of his neck.
Ahead, Treäbu noticed a wide clearing in the trees. “Split apart at the clearing!” he yelled.
“Why?!” Dareic asked. “So I can lure it away from you?!”
“Just do it!” Treäbu demanded. He reached the clearing, and did not alter course. After several long strides, however, the Skaelar’s footing slipped, and he plummeted into a deep pool of swamp muck.
Dareic darted quickly to the right upon reaching the clearing. He rolled in the mud, having tripped over a sword hilt, half buried in the soggy terrain, just as the beast crashed through the trees into the wide, foggy landscape. The Golgril stood at the perimeter, searching for its prey. The clearing was littered with bones and weapons of every race and age that Adoran had ever seen. It was a graveyard for the ill-fated souls who came upon the Golgril beast, whether by misguided travel, foolish gallantry or sheer misfortune.
Dareic, silent, unmoving and covered in mud, gazed upon the terrible creature. On all four thick legs, the Golgril stood over three times his own height. It was black, yet splattered with the muddy brown color of the swamp. Its long tail swung fervently in the air, and its demonic face looked like something out of Dareic’s worst nightmares. Red eyes peered maliciously from their sockets and heavy black plates shingled its entire body, moving in waving unison as the Golgril turned to survey the clearing. When it finally spotted Treäbu heaving himself out of the swamp pool, it growled excitedly.
Treäbu stood and faced the beast. His hands trembled, so he gripped his blades tighter, fighting against the fear that was slowly overtaking him.
Don’t just stand there, Dareic urged him. Run.
“Come on,” Treäbu coaxed the beast as he twirled his blades. “Come on.”
But the Golgril gave no evidence of a charge to come. Instead, it gathered itself as if preparing a mighty roar. The creature’s chest heaved, and as it did, Dareic could not help but feel that something terrible was about to happen.
“Not good,” said Treäbu, just before the Golgril bellowed a thunderous roar. But it was unlike any roar that Dareic or Treäbu had ever heard—or seen. For they could actually see it speed through the air, like heat waves on a blazing summer’s day. And though the Golgril did not breathe fire, its roar was composed of something volatile that incinerated everything in its path.
The roar came at Treäbu like a mighty wind, instantly disintegrating the grasses and twigs that stood in its way. The Skaelar’s eyes widened, his knees bent, and not a half second later, Treäbu exploded upward, leaping clear of the roar. He felt a wave of heat pass by him as he somersaulted through the air, and landed unscathed, knee-deep in a pool of mud and muck.
An empty trail of charred earth stretched from the Golgril, into the tree line behind where Treäbu stood only moments before, boring a wide hole effortlessly through the mangled wood. The Golgril lowered its head, and sprang like a coil from its position, straight toward Treäbu.
“Here we go,” Treäbu said. He sheathed his blades and popped his knuckles with a fluid clenching of his clawed hands, then sprang away, sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him.
Dareic got to his feet as Treäbu led the Golgril into the fog, and out of sight. Eventually, the thumping of the Golgril’s steps faded, and all was quiet. Dareic grabbed his bow, drew the last arrow from his quiver, and ran in the same direction Treäbu led the beast. But at the sound of the Golgril bellowing its fatal roar once again, Dareic froze mid-step.
An eerie silence followed.
“Treäbu,” Dareic whispered. “TREÄBU?!” echoed the yell that followed. He strained his vision toward the sound of another distant roar, just as the Golgril’s footsteps began pounding once more. The rumbling was quiet at first, but with every crash, it grew louder, until it boomed in Dareic’s ears, and rattled every bone in his body.
He raised his bow, and pointed his drawn arrow at the fog. He stepped forward, peering through the haziness. Then, he saw a shadowy figure racing toward him.
“Dareic!” Treäbu shouted, the Golgril right on his heels. Dareic went down to one knee and aimed his arrow. Amidst the crashing and pounding around him, he loosed his arrow upon the Golgril, striking the creature in one of its eyes, causing it to cease its charge. Moans and snarls erupted from deep within the beast as it scratched furiously at the arrow.
“I think I made it angry,” Dareic said as Treäbu joined him at his side.
“I can’t outrun it,” Treäbu replied, breathing heavily. “Not in this muck.”
“Alright,” Dareic said, reaching down to the ground. He picked up a long, curved, wide-bladed sword, and another, similar in proportion, though crafted by a different culture than the first. He held one for himself, and handed the other to Tre
äbu. “So let’s just dispose of it then.”
Blood gushed from the beast’s eye as it clawed Dareic’s arrow free. Then, the infuriated Golgril charged. Fear stewed in Dareic’s belly, and doubt filled his eyes. A creature that could swallow him in a single gulp, hideous and terrifying, stampeded toward him in a swamp clearing that had clearly been the last speck of land many brave warriors had ever seen.
Just before the Golgril collided with them, they side-stepped away from each other, and swung their swords upward at the beast’s powerful legs. Dareic’s blade sliced between the rock-hard plates that protected the Golgril’s skin, causing blood to fountain from the wound. But Treäbu’s blade dug far deeper—so much, that his sword snapped in two, leaving half its blade embedded in the creature’s leg.
The Golgril stumbled, and crashed to the ground, until finally coming to a stop, thirty paces from the two. Dareic noticed that Treäbu still gripped the hilt of his broken sword. Having not realized until then that he had indeed snapped his weapon, Treäbu dropped the handle.
“So, I shot that thing while it was chasing you,” said Dareic. “Does that count as me saving your life again? That you find yourself, once more, indebted to me?” Treäbu’s eyes filled with rage. “Haha!” Dareic couldn’t help but laugh, despite their dismal situation.
Limping, and turning to face them, the Golgril bore its teeth more menacingly than ever.
“It’s a hard kill, this one,” said Treäbu. Not a moment after, the Golgril prepared another deadly roar. “Go,” the Skaelar said gravely.
“What?” Dareic asked.
“Run,” said Treäbu. “I’ll hold it off. If I don’t catch up to you, east is your mark, and tell the Skaelar how I died.”
“Are you crazy? You can’t fight this thing on your own!”
“It can either kill one of us or both of us,” said the Skaelar, “and I’ll not break my honor—no matter the cost. Now, GO!” He cocked his neck, then charged full speed toward the Golgril. At first, Dareic stood silently, watching the Skaelar dash toward the beast. But then, he forced himself to turn away, and run for the tree line.