by James Fuller
Thane looked up to see the beast’s giant tail looming down on him and instinct alone saved him, his shield finding its way above him. The powerful tail smashed down upon the metal shield. Thane’s impressive strength was no match for that of the creature’s and the shield slammed down into him, breaking his arm in innumerable places. The pain of his shattered arm pulled him close to unconsciousness; gritting his teeth, he forced himself to rise. His left arm hung limply at his side, his large dented iron shield lay useless on the ground, yet he still held his bloodied war-axe tightly in his right hand. He looked up to see the beast still thrashing madly, shaking its head wildly, trying to rid itself of the torment from its ruined maw.
“I bet it hurts.” Thane taunted the beast as he started limping towards it. The creature turned to regard him, almost forgetting about the distress it felt. Its good eye focused on him with hatred unmatched. “Bet it does not hurt as much as the loss of a child!” He hissed, his pace quickening. He was going to die here, of that he was sure, but he would ride this demon into the afterlife with him.
The beast moved toward him - the damage to both its hind legs slowing it dramatically. “Let us finish this, you bastard!” Thane barked out, doing his best to charge over the uneven ground in his battered state.
The beast reared up threateningly, but its wounded legs could not hold the massive weight any longer. It stumbled and fell forward, crashing hard into the packed, rocky earth. Thane sensed his opportunity, lunged forward, and before the beast had a chance to recuperate, his war-axe slashed deep into the armour hide of the beast’s neck. Thick blood sprayed across Thane’s face from the deep wound - he knew he had severed a main artery.
The beast thrashed about, trying to get its legs underneath it again so it could rise and defend itself, but too much damage had been done and the effort only weakened it more. Realizing its fate was sealed, the beast turned its eye on Thane. Smoke began fuming from its nostrils as it began drawing in a deep breath through its mangled jaw.
Thane knew what was coming next, yet his eyes were transfixed by the glowing orb forming within the beast’s open mouth. It was like nothing he had ever witnessed before - a raw power that had been unknown until that moment. It hissed from the beast’s mouth and Thane stumbled back, the bitter flames tasting only his left side as he fell back against the earth. He held his eyes shut tightly, fighting against the searing pain erupting throughout the left side of his body. He would have screamed had the flames not consumed all the air around him.
He did not know if it was mere moments, hours or even days, but finally the cruel, blistering heat of the beast’s inferno ceased. His lungs cried out to him to draw breath, and when he did, the sensation nearly sent him into unconsciousness. He lay there, staring up at the late afternoon sky, his body numb to everything and for that, he knew he should be thankful.
He could smell the acidic stench of burnt flesh and knew it was his own. He licked his dry lips and tasted blood, working up the courage to look down at his body. The blood was not his - it was the beast’s. It was thicker than a man’s and its taste more potent and uniquely flavored.
Thane titled his head and looked down at his mangled form - nearly his entire left side was blackened and blistered from the beast’s firestorm. He lay back down upon the rocks and chuckled softly to himself - he had not thought it truly possible to slay the beast that had killed his son, but he had. He had avenged his son, he had done the impossible, and he could die now with no shame and no dishonor. He closed his eyes knowing it would be forever...
Thane’s eyes opened, the only illumination he could see was from the small stars that littered the black heavens above him. His head felt like it had taken a blow from a barbarian’s war hammer. He pushed himself up to his feet - his body ached everywhere, his eyes slowly focused with the little light available and rested upon the massive, dead beast in front of him. His memories flooded back to him and he shuffled backward, falling to the ground again and scrambled a safe distance away from the dead creature. He looked down to his left side and was overwhelmed with relief to find his body no longer ravished by the beast’s flames. “Impossible...” He whispered.
Chapter 1
“It is about time you decided to show your face again,” an all-too-familiar voice mocked.
Meath spun in the empty void of space he stood in. He had no idea how he had gotten there, when it was, or even what he had been doing prior to this - none of that seemed to matter. His eyes fixed on the dark, hooded figure before him. His demeanor hardened as he glared at the shadowy figure.
“You almost look surprised to see me again.” The man grinned from under the shadow of his hood and Meath almost caught sight of his face. “So you are finally there, are you?”
The figure began circling around him, moving as if he were walking, yet the feet beneath his cloak did not move. “Finally, we have returned to where it all starts…or started.” An amused chuckle echoed through the empty void.
“I care nothing for your delusional riddles.” Meath countered bitterly. “You are nothing but a coward.”
The dark figured laughed loudly, the deep sound carrying a haunting undertone. “Oh, but I assure you, Meath, one day you will care…you will even thank me for them, that I can promise you.”
“The only thing I want from you is my vengeance.” Meath hissed. “And I shall have it, and that I promise you!” His hate-filled words reverberated around them, causing violent colours to ripple through the ebony void.
“You say that now, but that is because you are still weak and do not realize my true intentions.” The hooded figure elucidated.
“Be gone from me with your riddles, lies and false claims, coward. The sooner I wake, the sooner I can be rid of you.” Meath spat.
A white grin showed from beneath the cowl of shadows once more. “To awaken… is that what you would really like?”
“If it will rid me of you.”
“You will come to regret that choice. You only wish to awaken because you do not remember what is waiting for you on the other side.” The figure replied. “Here, let me show you.” He said as he reached his hand out. Meath tried to pull away but could not and the man’s hand touched his chest. Violent flashes ripped through Meath’s mind. Blood, screaming, and death.
Meath cried out in pain and grabbed at his head.
“Still wish to remember?” The figure ridiculed, pushing his hand into Meath’s chest again.
Pale, crimson-stained faces flashed over and over; dead, lifeless eyes boring into his soul. Faces he slowly began to recognize, some he had known his whole life. His friends… Zehava… Dahak… Shania… Nicolette…
His heart nearly stopped in his chest as it all flooded back to him.
Meath’s eyes opened in panic; his body spasmed painfully and he found himself balled up on his side, retching repeatedly onto the floor. It seemed like half a lifetime until nothing more came out but excruciating gasps that stabbed at his sides like a dull blade.
He rested his sweat-drenched head against the side of the straw-filled mattress, small convulsions rippling through him as he fought to gain control of his insides. His vision was blurred by tears and the violent throbbing in his head, but he refused to close them again. Every time he did, vivid flashes of his friends’ mutilated bodies strewn across the rocky sand bar of the Drake River assaulted him. Instead, he forced himself to focus on the puddle of vomit on the tanned rug below him. Slowly, he gained control of his breathing and wiped the salt-crusted tears from his eyes, clearing his vision a little.
With more effort than it should have taken, he pulled himself up to sit on the side of the strange bed, fighting waves of nausea as he did so. He looked up at his surroundings - nothing within the bedchamber stood out as familiar. Anxiety flooded through him and he sprang to his feet defensively as he surveyed the whole of the room, ready to shield himself against anyone who might be in there with him.
He was alone.
The coolness
of the room alerted him to his nakedness. He spotted a set of plain brown slacks and a tunic, draped across a wooden chair by the bed. He dressed quickly, realizing his hands were no longer bound by the enchanted hemp rope that Daden and Kara had used to control him. Their mistake, he told himself as he slipped on the leather boots.
Dressed, he was about to go for the door, but as he scanned the walls he soon realized the room had none. All he could see was a small window on the far wall.
“How did they get me in here?” He said to himself as he glanced around the room once more.
He went to the window - he was on the second floor of what appeared to be a large log building. The window overlooked a small, unusual-looking village bordered by large, thick, ancient-looking trees. Meath was about to look away when the sky caught his attention - he could not remember ever seeing such a perfectly crisp, clear blue sky. The sight was surreal and he found it hard to look away.
Meath searched the area that he could see below him and noted no one was around. He smashed his elbow into the clear glass, but it did not break… did not even crack. It was as if he had hit solid stone. He backed away from the window, holding his arm, cursing aloud at the pain that pulsed through his arm and down to his fingertips. I should have known it would not be that simple.
He began walking the perimeter of the room - moving every picture, drape, dresser, the desk and the two bookcases - searching for anything that would indicate another way out. He reached the window again having found nothing; no crease in the wall, no hidden latches that he could find, no air draft to bear witness to some hidden entry. He had even moved aside the rugs and looked for trap door within the stone floor, but turned up nothing, except more confusion.
“This is impossible.” He muttered, getting frustrated, though it was hard to deny the tingle of interest he felt. He quickly quenched that interest by reminding himself he was a prisoner and this was his cell.
“I will do this the hard way then.” Meath growled, beginning to concentrate on the innate Gift within him, to summon wizard’s fire…but nothing happened.
Panic-stricken, Meath quickly tried again and again, but to no avail. The pure essence of his abilities - which normally manifested within him when he called - was no longer there. Fear coursed through his every fiber. Have these people taken my powers from me? Meath knew of only one way for one’s powers to be taken - a dark, vile ritual and since he was still alive, he knew that had not happened.
“What do you want from me!? What have you done to me, damn it?” Meath screamed as load as he could, wondering if anyone could even hear him, for the room seemed solid. “Why are you doing this to me? Show yourself, damn you! You have no right! Where am I?” He raged, his anger taking over as he pulled one of the bookshelves down - it crashed to the floor, spilling the books and scrolls across the stone floor. “What do you want from me? Who are you?” Meath cried again in defeat, falling to his knees, his thoughts and feelings overwhelming him.
The middle-aged man climbed the four limestone steps to the marquee, where the Lady he was looking for sat feeding the large, colourful fish within the glassy, smooth pond. “Lady Zada, he has awakened.”
Zada’s hands paused from their rhythmic task for only a moment before continuing tearing small chucks flat bread off the loaf and tossing them to the hungry fish that swarmed below her. “How does he fare, Luke?” She asked, voice laced with genuine concern.
“As good as one would expect, in his situation, I would guess,” the balding man replied.
“Do you believe he can be approached?” she paused. “Is he reasonable?”
Luke was shaking his head before she had even finished. “If his trashed room and threats of blood are any indication, I would think it not wise at this time, my Lady.”
“I see,” Zada replied, deep in thought. “We will have to wait it out I suppose. When he calms, I will go to him.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Luke nodded, distracted.
“What is it, Luke?”
“My Lady?”
“Come now, Luke, do not insult me,” she chided him. “I have known you long enough to know when something is playing on your mind.” Zada turned to look up at him. “Speak your mind, my old friend.”
Luke smiled his defeat. “It may serve well to offer some form of contact from us. To leave him alone in his room with no contact of any sort…may implant a larger wedge than we already have as it is.”
Zada went back to feeding her fish for several moments. “What would you propose?”
“He needs to eat - it may serve well to have someone he is at least familiar with bring it to him and give him some form of explanation of what is happening.”
“Kara and Daden?” Zada asked and Luke inclined his head. “I see your point and I have to agree with you.”
“I will see to it then, my Lady.” Luke replied with a slight bow of his head as he turned to descend the limestone steps.
“Luke?”
“Yes, my Lady?” He stopped.
“I do not want them to tell him anything that will upset him. They are just to bring him food and inform him that when he has calmed himself and is reasonable, that I will come to him and discuss the reason he is here.” Luke nodded again and began away. “One more thing, Luke, no one is to go into the room alone with him. I want two at all times, at least for now.”
Luke cocked a brow. “Do you truly believe that necessary?”
“Even with his powers restricted within the room, he is not to be underestimated — ever. Too much is at stake for this to not go our way.”
“As you wish, my Lady.”
Once Luke had left Zada went back to feeding the eager multicolored fish within the stone pond. “Welcome home, Meath,” she whispered. “It has been far too long.”
Meath sat on the corner of the bed breathing hard, small lines of sweat trickling its way through the light growth on his unshaven face. For the last few hours, he had exhausted himself trying to find a way out of the room. He had broken the two chairs against the wall, attempting to make a hole in which he could work with. The chairs had shattered as if they had hit stone. He had kicked, punched and threw himself into nearly every square inch of the room, hoping to find a weakness, but there had been none. The room was magically protected in some way and that was decades out of his knowledge and understanding. Whoever these people were, they knew how to imprison someone they wished to keep.
His stomach growled in anger at having been empty for what he believed to be days. He wondered if anyone was ever going to come, with either food or information as to why he was here.
He rose from the bed and went to the small window again. Night was falling; the luminous, azure sky was mixing with the coming dark, turning the sky into a collage of brilliant colours, in a final display before the shadowy hand of night closed around them.
“Well, you sure made a mess of it in here,” a familiar male voice said from behind him.
Meath’s eyes flared with hate, his teeth gritted in a growl of rage. He spun around to see Daden standing on the far side of the room, in front of a door that had simply appeared. Meath bolted forward, his reflexes honed by desperation as his hand snatched up a broken chair leg on the end of the bed, poised to strike a death blow.
Daden’s hand came up and a current of air released, striking Meath square in the chest, blowing him off his feet and throwing him backwards across the stone floor. “I told you he would do something foolish.” Daden called back, as Kara entered from the door a moment later.
Meath regained his senses and was back on his feet in an instant, the jagged, broken chair leg gripped tightly in his hand as he charged again.
“Meath…no!” Kara cried out.
Daden smiled, his hand releasing a blast of air once more. Meath spun around mid-stride, avoiding the powerful torrent and continuing forward. Daden’s eyes widened in panic, his hands making it down in time to catch Meath’s wrist as it came up to thrust the wooden shard into his guts. Th
e force of the blow forced him backwards, preventing it from puncturing his flesh.
Meath wasted no time and used the momentum to land a solid right hook into Daden’s jaw that forced him further back, loosening his grip on the wooden stake. Meath pushed the weapon forward, the tip sinking into Daden’s stomach. Daden hissed out in pain and turned to the side, pulling Meath’s arms down and the weapon with them. Daden slammed his elbow back into Meath’s face, and Meath released the chair leg, stumbling back.
“Meath, stop it!” Kara cried out again.
Daden snarled and kicked up, hoping to land his boot into Meath’s bent over head and end the fight. But Meath saw the kick and got his arms out in time to absorb the force of the blow harmlessly, then leapt forward, barreling Daden to the hard floor. Meath quickly began to rain powerful fists down on him.
“Meath, no!” Kara screamed, kicking her foot up, catching Meath under the jaw and snapping his head back, toppling him off her bloodied partner.
“You bastard!” Daden sputtered getting to his feet, spitting out a clot of blood.
Meath rolled over and pushed himself to his knees, disorientated with a viciously aching jaw and ringing ears. He could hear the muffled voices of Kara and Daden but had no idea what they were saying.
“Meath, stay down,” Kara ordered. “It does not have to be this way.” She looked over at Daden; her face was stricken with concern at the amount of blood that was seeping from the wound in his midsection. “Are you okay?”
Daden moved his blood-coated hand, pulled his dark blue tunic up and grimaced at the sight of the stab wound. “It is not as bad as it looks.” He muttered, glaring hard at Meath as he struggled to get to his feet again. “You are gonna pay for that.” He stepped forward but Kara stepped in front of him.
“Daden, no,” Kara scolded him. “This is not why we are here.”