by B. A. Scott
“Promise us safe passage to Kallenshar,” Dareic retorted. “Let us speak with Lord Embros and your Sage.”
“Oh, you’re hardly in the position to be making requests,” said the Incinian. “Surrender now, or make your move, so we can end this.”
“I don’t want to die today,” Dareic said. “And I take it you don’t either. Or your men. But if you attack us,” his eyes flashed aglow, “I’m taking every last one of you with me.”
“That’s more like it,” Treäbu said, twirling his blades.
The Incinian soldiers readied for attack, but nervously so, glancing uneasily to their superior.
“Then to Kallenshar you will go,” said the Incinian Captain with a smile. “Lay down your arms.”
“You can’t trust him,” Treäbu said. “He’ll kill us. Bloody Incinian liars.”
“Nothing happens here until you’re unarmed and in shackles, is that clear?” the Incinian belted firmly. “You want into Kallenshar? This is how you get there. Decide.”
Dareic, wondering if the decision would cost he and the others their lives, released his magic.
“Do it,” he told his companions. Slowly, they set their weapons upon the deck.
“All of your effects,” the Captain demanded. “Scabbards, pouches, rings, bracelets and the like. We don’t know what kind of magic you might be hiding.”
The group obeyed, though Dareic eyed his Golgril tooth possessively before laying it on the deck. Xado looked as though he was cutting off his own hand, when he gently laid down the pouch containing all his precious gemstones. Treäbu was the last to comply, and did so with great reluctance. When all was laid at their feet, several Incinians took the belongings and carried them on board their own ship.
For a moment, everyone wondered if the soldiers would spear them through their hearts. The Incinian Captain seemed to revel in the tension, like he was toying with cornered insects.
“Bind their hands,” he said at last, and his crew obeyed, clasping the unarmed group’s wrists in heavy iron shackles. Once everyone was bound, they felt spearheads at their necks. “This vessel—or what’s left of it—is now property of the Incinian navy under Lord Embros,” the Incinian told them. “Did you really think, Captain Anthrabar, that you could barge your way into Kallenshar?”
“I’d every intention of turning back, sir!” Xado professed. “As you must have seen. But these mutinous rats proved unsatisfied with that decision, and sought to run your gauntlet of their own accord. Shoot them dead, here and now, for all I care.”
“That was exactly what we had in mind,” said the Incinian. “For all of you.” He paused, letting fear fill their hearts. “But then, you saw fit to attack us, didn’t you?”
“You attacked us first!” Dareic protested.
“This is our realm, lest you forgot!” yelled the Incinian. “And I hope you like the heat! Trespassing, well that’ll get you killed. But attacking our ship, now that’s an inexcusable offense, to which death alone is too painless a consequence. We’re letting you live, so that you can be tortured senseless in the dungeons of Kallenshar for what remains of your miserable, insignificant lives.”
“Prisoners!? But I’m not with them!” Xado pleaded. “Please! Let me depart! I’ll sail away, and never return!”
“Your pleas are useless, Captain,” said the Incinian. “For what kind of Marinean would ferry passengers such as these? It’s obvious you’re in league with them. Besides, given the state of your vessel, and the absence of your first mate, sailing is a dubious notion. Take them aboard at once,” he ordered his crew.
A wide plank was dropped to the Avenger, creating a ramp to the Incinian vessel’s deck. One by one, Dareic and the others passed to the dark ship.
“I hope you have a plan, brother,” Treäbu whispered to Dareic.
“Somehow, we have to speak with Lord Embros,” Vega said. “Let’s hope he pardons our intrusion when he learns what we have to say.”
“It doesn’t look like that’s going to happen,” said Treäbu.
Dareic didn’t respond. He simply stood, guarded on all sides by the Incinians, and looked ahead toward Kallenshar. Beyond the fire gates, the massive volcano towered before him, and the city was alight with lamps and fires as the sun set below the distant horizon.
The Incinian ships pulled away from the Avenger, and made straight for the fire gates. Dareic watched as the enormous wall of flame extinguished before his eyes in a matter of seconds. The ship passed between two of the dark, towering walls, whose facing sides glowed like cooling embers.
“Captain Tanning,” an Incinian addressed the Captain, out of earshot from Dareic and the others. “Shall I signal for the Captain of the Guard to meet us at the docks?”
“No,” said the Captain. “There are wielders here. Signal for the Sage.”
Chapter 14: Fahren
For the second time in his life, Dareic found himself entering a strange, new world. Only this time, instead of Skaelar warriors as his escorts, brutal Incinian captors stood beside him.
The seas surrounding Kallenshar glowed red in the light of the setting sun, and the dark structures that loomed in the distance caught the last rays of orange glory upon their shiny, obsidian walls.
The Incinian vessel pulled into port, and Dareic and the others were prodded onto a large dock.
“Well, we made it,” Dareic told Treäbu. “Now, the hard part.”
“On your knees,” ordered the Incinian Captain. With their hands still clasped behind their backs, the group did as it was told.
“Please, sir,” Dareic started. “All we want is to speak with your—”
“Silence!” the Captain demanded. “Keep your mouth shut, Human, or I’ll break your jaw.”
“But even as captives,” said Treäbu, “we have the right to—”
But the Incinian did not let him finish. The back of his gloved hand struck Treäbu’s head with such force, the Skaelar collapsed to the ground.
“Bloody git!” Dareic yelled as he lunged for the Captain. Before he could touch him, however, he was grabbed by the Incinians around him, and forced back to his knees.
Dareic filled himself with magic, ready to summon Verdure in his defense. But spears were at his throat before he could act. He felt their metal, hot against his flesh, and was certain at least one had drawn blood.
“Such insolence,” the Captain spoke, lifting Treäbu’s face with the toe of his boot. “We shall enjoy having you as our guests.” Then, he stomped down hard on the Skaelar’s face, breaking Treäbu’s nose. Dareic and Vega cursed him, and Vexen could only watch with sorrowful eyes as blood streamed from Treäbu’s nose and mouth.
“Serves him right,” Xado muttered under his breath, to which Vexen shot the Marinean a hateful glance.
“And here come your escorts,” said the Incinian Captain, observing a group of his brethren approaching from the city. All but one bore shiny, black armor, and their fiery faces burned beneath the hoods of dark cloaks. They were led by a broad shouldered Incinian, with slicked back hair as dark and oily as the Captain’s. The patch of facial hair upon his chin came to a point, and his irises—like the other Incinians’—looked like a ring of fire in a sea of darkness.
He rode upon a giant emberwolf, which was black as night, with bright orange markings where any common wolf’s fur might have been white. The man wore less armor than the thirteen behind him, and appeared more dignified, as he was the only one of them wearing a long, high-collared coat.
“It seems I’m granting you your wish after all,” said the Captain. “Or half of it, at least.” Dareic didn’t understand what the Incinian meant, but he feared to speak, not wishing to suffer the same fate as Treäbu. When the Captain saw the confusion in Dareic’s eyes, he offered clarification. “You wanted to see the Sage, didn’t you?” he asked. “Well, guess who’s taking you off my hands?”
Dareic looked again to the approaching group, trying to get a better glimpse at the leader. The Inc
inian Sage, he thought. Maybe he’ll listen to reason. Then, his eyes returned to Treäbu, who managed to push himself back up to a kneeling position. Or maybe not, he rationed.
“Fahren Sage, look what we’ve caught in our bay,” said the Captain.
Upon reaching the dock, the Sage dismounted his emberwolf. He stood tall, his posture was formal, yet haughty and self-assured, and there was a noticeable swagger in his step.
“Congratulations on your catch, Captain Tanning,” the Sage responded, eyeing each of the captives carefully.
“Ah, thank you. Forgive me, Fahren,” said the Captain, “I thought this matter beyond the Captain of the Guard’s expertise. With wielders among this lot—this one,” he pointed to Vexen, “and this one,” he gestured to Dareic, “I felt it best they be put under your charge.”
“Say no more, Captain,” said the Sage. “Their hands may be bound, and their swords may be taken, but magic is the deadliest weapon of them all—and that is something the Captain of the Guard—as capable an officer as he is—cannot contest. Nor will he be the one to manage all the wonderful political repercussions that are bound to arise when none of these poor souls ever return home. ‘Slain at sea, by Daro’s ilk, no doubt,’ I’ll tell their nations, and offer my sincerest condolences.”
“But we’ve come in good faith!” Dareic protested, then immediately regretted the fact that he’d spoken, for the Incinian Captain wasted no time in kicking him square in the jaw. Dareic’s vision went red with bright sparks, and the next thing he felt was the hard wooden dock hitting his face.
“A defiant lot, they are,” said Captain Tanning. “But we’ll break ‘em of that soon enough.”
“Splendid,” said Fahren, who beamed in amusement at Dareic’s sudden disorientation. “Get them to their feet and bind a bracelet to their wrists. We don’t want them suffocating before they reach the gates,” he ordered the soldiers that had accompanied him down from the city. They obeyed in silence, two soldiers per captive. Dareic required their support to stand, as his knees were suddenly weak. He watched as the fiery men clasped each person with a wide, dark bracelet—above their shackles—intricately inscribed with Incinian symbols.
Fahren walked slowly by each prisoner, smirking all the while. “I must thank you, first and foremost,” he said, passing Treäbu. “Our soldiers on the catapults always appreciate a good bout of target practice. It was all rather entertaining, I must admit—watching your efforts from afar.” He paused in front of Vega. “Well now, you’re a large one, aren’t you?” he said, then nodded back to his emberwolf. “Perhaps I’ll feed your bones to Karnus there, once we’re done with you.” The emberwolf’s tail swung eagerly behind the Sage, its fiery tip like a waving torch. “But, ope! Come now, what’s this I see? It looks like something got a piece of you already!” He pointed to Vega’s back, then moved on to Dareic. “And look here!” he said. “A Human in Kallenshar?”
“That one calls himself ‘Caladen,’” said Captain Tanning. “And an ambassador.”
“Does he?” Fahren asked, then noticed the burns upon Dareic’s skin. “Crispy, you’ve come to me.” He squeezed Dareic’s seared arm, causing Dareic to grit his teeth against the blinding pain. “But there’s still more of you to crisp.” He stepped in front of Xado. “Oh, now look at you,” he spoke patronizingly, shaking his head. “Ought to be ashamed of yourself.” He leaned in close, and put his arm around Xado’s shoulder, feigning genuine concern. “If ever anyone found out what you’ve done, it’d be the end of your trade, your honor, your—well, your dignity, wouldn’t it? I imagine you’re thumping yourself in the head pretty hard right about now, eh? But don’t you worry, my tri-hearted friend,” he pulled away, and patted Xado’s back firmly, “No one will ever hear of you again.” Then, he came upon Vexen.
“Now what are you, exactly?” he asked her, his expression suddenly perplexed. But Vexen dared not utter a word. “It’s alright, my dear,” Fahren assured her comfortingly. “You may speak.”
Vexen looked at him with loathsome eyes. She remained silent for a moment, then turned her gaze away, refusing to respond.
“Ah. I see,” said Fahren, nodding. “Well, perhaps we can loosen your tongue with a little persuasion.” The Sage’s eyes flashed aglow and fire poured from Vexen’s mouth. She screamed in agony, and lost the ability to stand. But the flanking soldiers would not let her fall. They held her by the arms as her body went limp, and she heaved vomitus bursts of liquid flame.
Delight abounded in the eyes of every Incinian present. Treäbu struggled against his bonds, trying desperately to wriggle free and attack the Sage. Dareic watched Vexen out of the corner of his half-open eyes. What torment the creature before him endured appeared excruciating, and well deserved in Dareic’s opinion. How long had he waited to see her in such pain? But, as he continued to observe her torturous treatment, what first began as thoughts of satisfaction, evolved into a strange sense of pity.
At last, the Sage’s eyes lost their glow, and Vexen’s spewing ceased. Though, she wheezed every breath forcefully, and tried to grab at her throat, as if its insides were still ablaze.
Fahren leaned down, his head nearly touching Vexen’s. “Just a taste, my dear, of what’s to come,” he said. “Now, I believe I asked you a question. What, pray tell, are you?”
Vexen tried to speak, but couldn’t.
“Come again?” Fahren asked. “What was that?”
“G—go to hell!” Vexen choked up the words.
“Ahh, but can’t you see?” said the Sage, smiling, and motioning to the dark city in the distance. “You’ve come to hell, my dear.” The other Incinians chuckled evilly. “And I think it’s time I showed you to your rooms.”
For a moment, Dareic and the others could only ponder what torturous doom awaited them in the dungeons of Kallenshar. The Sage seemed a devious fellow, who would surely see to it that they received nothing less than unimaginable suffering for decades on end.
“Their effects?” Fahren asked the Captain, who motioned for his men to hand over two large bags, which contained the prisoners’ belongings. The Sage’s guards took them, and Fahren leapt up to his emberwolf, addressed the Incinian Captain, “Captain Tanning,” then turned and rode away.
The hooded guards that accompanied the Sage followed behind, escorting Dareic and the others at a brisk pace. Fahren led them from the dock, past throngs of cursing Incinians, into a large building, half a mile from the city walls. It looked to Dareic like a place of business—to charter passage, organize shipments, and find work. Fahren proceeded through various chambers and hallways, away from the masses, into a secluded section of the building. There, he dismounted his emberwolf, and opened a heavy iron door.
“Get in there, the lot of you!” he ordered, but quietly so.
Dareic and the others filed into the room, still bound by the Incinian guards. The large, dark-stoned chamber boasted nothing more than the smallest barred windows Dareic had ever seen.
Fahren told two of his guards to keep watch outside the room. Then, he joined the others inside, and closed the door behind him. Immediately, he made for Vexen, reached out his arm, and grabbed her by the neck. His eyes flashed aglow as Vexen struggled to free herself from his grasp.
“Get your filthy hands off her!” Treäbu yelled, twisting under the restraints of his own guards. “Stop, damn you! She’s done nothing!”
Suddenly, Vexen ceased her struggling. She succumbed to Fahren’s grasp willingly, and her eyes grew wide and teary. Dareic, surprised by her actions, noticed a soft, reddish light emanating from beneath the Sage’s hand. Even Treäbu watched in amazement as Vexen’s once fearful expression seemed to have changed completely.
The Sage released his magic and let go of Vexen’s neck. Vexen brought her hand to her throat and touched it, astonished at the absence of pain.
“Forgive me,” Fahren told her with the utmost remorse in his tone. “I did what had to be done.”
“What did he do to you?”
Treäbu asked.
“He healed me,” Vexen said, still amazed at the fact, herself.
“What?” Treäbu asked, just as Fahren approached him, and put his hand to the Skaelar’s bloody face.
“Don’t you touch me!” Treäbu said, jerking away from the Sage.
Fahren slowly retracted his hands. “Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug, then proceeded on to Dareic. “If I may,” he lifted his open hands just inches from Dareic’s face, waiting for his response.
Dareic hesitated, but eventually consented with a cautious nod. Fahren touched his skin, and poured the power of Revival into it, healing the injuries upon Dareic’s flesh in a matter of moments. The Sage then stepped back, and released his magic. Dareic felt rejuvenated. Even his disorientation and the soreness of his jaw had vanished.
“Remove their bonds,” Fahren ordered his guards. At once, all the guards released their holds, and unclasped the prisoners’ hands.
“Vega,” Treäbu whispered softly to the Aerolus when his hands were free. “I think my nose is broken. Do you mind?”
Without a word, Vega put a massive thumb to either side of Treäbu’s nose, and snapped it back into place.
“Fecha makke!” Treäbu belted an expletive in Skalen, following a crack of bone.
“Better?” Vega asked.
“Thanks,” said the Skaelar.
“Alright, what’s going on?” Dareic asked the Sage, once his bonds were removed. “Why are you helping us?”
“I’m helping me,” Fahren spoke seriously. “Listen carefully, ambassador. What I’m about to tell you is considered treason. You and your companions must swear never to speak of it with anyone in Kallenshar. Is that understood?”
“Uh, okay?” Dareic answered.
“Swear to it!!” the Sage insisted a more serious commitment from Dareic.
“Alright, geez! Fine, we swear,” Dareic obliged, almost agitatedly. “Just tell us what all this is about.”
“You’ve come to Kallenshar at a most tenuous time,” said the Sage. “Our people have always trusted in the wisdom of our King, Lord Embros. But now, he is leading us down a dark and twisted path. And for the first time in the history of our people, the Incinians are divided.”