by B. A. Scott
Before Dareic could marvel any longer, Fahren hastily stepped forward, speaking as he did.
“Flame is life,” he said. “And death. It warms, nourishes, purifies, brings light to dark. And it destroys. I will not be able to train you in this power, so heed my warning, both of you. To master flame, you must always maintain control. Flame feeds on emotion. It thrives on passion. It is a dangerous, beautiful thing.”
“Will it be so natural to conjure?” Vexen asked. “Will I understand how to wield it immediately?”
“Give a man a shovel, and he’ll sort out how to use it,” said Fahren. “But respect this tool’s power. It is deadly and wild.”
Dareic beheld the column of fire once more. It truly displayed the essence of Flame. Terrible power, yet masterfully controlled, he thought.
“Give me your cloaks and breathing bracelets,” Fahren said.
“Why?” Dareic asked. Fahren shot him a glance that inferred he didn’t have time for questions. Not wanting to aggravate the Sage further, Dareic and Vexen complied.
When they reached the Fountain, Fahren grasped a lengthy tool Dareic thought belonged in a blacksmith’s shop. Essentially a long bar with a goblet-sized basin at the end, Fahren plunged it into the liquid fire, then withdrew it, and presented it to Dareic and Vexen.
“Drink,” the Sage ordered.
“Are you sure you’re not trying to kill us, Fahren?” Dareic asked. “That doesn’t look like it’s going to go down easily.”
Fahren’s seriousness compounded in his eyes. “Drink,” he said both urgently and hatefully.
Dareic and Vexen eyed each other for the briefest of moments, a nervous apprehension in their eyes.
Vexen moved first. She stepped forward, and sipped from the basin, then threw herself backward in agony. Without thinking, Dareic thrust his jaw into the fiery liquid, and gulped it down. He flailed, hitting the tool, spilling its contents, and fell back upon the floor, next to Vexen.
His face burned with a searing pain. His mouth felt like the innards of a brutal oven, and as the thick, molten substance oozed into his belly, he thought hell itself had found a new home, for Dareic believed his body would explode at any moment.
He and Vexen roared in pain, and as they did, Flame burst from their mouths. Their eyes shot open, aglow, just before their bodies were consumed in fire. The flames swirled around them as Dareic merely tried to survive the experience. He could not think of anything but the pain. He could feel it surging through his body, all the way to his fingers and toes.
The swirling flames around he and Vexen condensed, and wrapped around them like cocoons. They melted Dareic’s armor like it was made of leaves, and singed his clothing in a flash.
Fahren watched the writhing bodies on the floor, and could not help but utter, “What the hell am I doing?”
Slowly, the cocoons of Flame receded into Dareic’s and Vexen’s flesh. Their roars of anguish ended, as neither had the strength nor will to react any longer. They laid upon the floor, slightly convulsing from their pounding heartbeats, until finally, they were still.
When Dareic finally regained the capacity for conscious thought, he spoke, “Am I dead?”
“If you were dead,” he heard Vexen say, “then I’m here with you, and we’re stuck with each other for the rest of eternity.”
Dareic turned his head toward Vexen, and saw her laying naked next to him.
“Your clothes!” he blurted, realizing his own condition. “My clothes!”
They tried to sit up, finding that their strength had left them. Fahren extended a hand, first to Vexen, wrapping her Incinian cloak around her, then to Dareic.
“I can’t… walk.” Dareic said, trying to stabilize his stance. “And you could’ve told us we’d burn our clothes off!”
The seriousness in Fahren’s face subsided briefly, and Dareic thought he almost looked amused.
“A secret only those who have sipped from the Fountain of Cyneas Dal can know,” he said with a smirk. “I trust you’ll keep it.” Then, urgency reclaimed him. “Now, we have to get you out of here. Your bracelets.” He handed them their sorenti.
“But I can’t bloody walk!” Dareic said.
“I can hardly keep standing,” Vexen added.
“Your strength will return quickly,” Fahren told them. “Come.”
He started back down the walk way, slow enough for them to follow. Dareic tried to walk, then collapsed to the floor.
“Get up,” Fahren barked, helping him to his feet. “Here,” he slung Dareic’s and Vexen’s arms over each other for support.
Dareic didn’t know what burned worse. The feeling that a hot coal still rested in his belly, or the fact that he was relying on Vexen to hold him upright.
Step by step, they walked toward the doors. When they reached them, Fahren looked back. “From here on, you can’t lean on each other. It will draw attention.”
“Won’t us walking so slowly be suspicious anyway?” Vexen asked.
“Let’s hope you simply appear elderly,” Fahren said.
Just as much as Dareic hated having Vexen at his side, he was suddenly disappointed at losing her support. They composed themselves, and held their cloaks tightly shut around their naked bodies.
Fahren banged on the door, and Dareic immediately put his head down.
The rest he saw of the palace was only its floors. Fear gripped his heart when he realized that his bootless feet peeked out from the cloak with every step.
With every guard and citizen they passed, Dareic felt it a small victory. But he still wondered if the ruse would last.
“Falysia,” he heard Fahren speak. Then, after the sound of opening doors, the Sage ushered Dareic and Vexen into a room. “I’ll get you some clothes,” he said.
“How’d it go?” Dareic heard Treäbu’s voice. He immediately pulled back his hood.
“One second,” Dareic said shortly.
“What?” Treäbu asked as Dareic, Fahren and Vexen passed him by. They entered a bed chamber, where Fahren procured two sets of clothing.
“Here, quickly,” Fahren said, handing Dareic a bundle, then Vexen.
Dareic donned the black Incinian garb, and looked to Vexen. Hers was minimal, and amplified her natural curves.
“What are you looking at?” she said, when she realized he was staring.
“Nothing,” Dareic said. “Let’s move.”
They rejoined the others, who looked mildly offended at being disregarded earlier.
“Now, to get you out of Kallenshar,” Fahren said.
“How?” Xado asked. “We don’t have a ship. Unless you expect us to escape inland on foot?”
Fahren thought for a moment, then looked to Vega.
“Vega, we’re going to have to kill you.”
The group exited the chamber, mixed in with Fahren’s guards. Fahren led the way, and behind him, the others surrounded two of the strongest, carrying Vega’s lifeless body on a stretcher. It was covered with a large black cloth, but exposed enough of his feathered limbs to enlighten any onlooker.
They left the palace, and descended to the port. Not a star shone overhead, and Dareic thanked their good fortune, for the blackness of night only aided their disguise. Intent on their purpose, no one questioned them until Fahren reached a dock with three Marinean vessels. Beside them, Incinians were already hard at work on restoring Xado’s Avenger. The Marinean Captain sullenly looked to his decimated ship, then tore his gaze from it.
“Good evening, soldier,” Fahren approached a guard upon the dock. “I need the fastest of the smaller two.”
“Ex-cuse me?” the arrogant soldier appeared confused.
“The fastest of these Marinean ships, which is it?” Fahren pressed him.
“These are our most prized captured vessels. I recommend proceeding to dock ten, Fahren Sage, where you’ll find one from our own fleet.”
“No,” said Fahren. “One of these.”
“And what is your business, migh
t I ask, that you would require passage this night?”
“Such information is beyond your rank,” Fahren stated. “But, as this Aerolus’s corpse is difficult to conceal,” He stepped aside, revealing the guards carrying Vega’s body.
“What is that?” the soldier asked. “A dead bird?”
“A message,” said Fahren. “For those who would trespass in our realm.”
“Tis customary to incinerate them, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Fahren. “But a body is much more effective a message in this case. Some of my guard will deliver it. Better with a fast ship.”
The soldier appeared compliant.
“Very well,” he said. “I need to approve this with the Dock Superior.”
“I am your Sage. My authority supersedes all others. Now, the ship. Unless you’d like to be on the next patrol to the ice mines of Ahvatlus.”
“But the Dock Superior will wonder—”
“I will speak with him after their departure. They must leave immediately.”
The soldier looked from Fahren to the others, then nodded.
“Process, you understand,” he said. “The Sage needs a ship.”
“I’ll take care of it,” said Fahren. “Now—”
“That one’s the fastest,” said the soldier. “The Evader.”
“Perfect,” Fahren said.
Once all were on board, Fahren asked his guards to leave the boat.
“Fahren, we can’t thank you enough,” Dareic said quietly, once they were alone with the Sage.
“You’re not out yet,” Fahren told him. “Sail fast, ambassador. Remember all I have risked. Let it not have been in vain.”
“What are you going to do now?” Treäbu asked.
“Civil war is imminent,” said Fahren. “It’s only a matter of time before Lord Embros finds out I helped you escape. I will do what I can to rally my supporters. We might not be able to remain in Kallenshar.”
“Then come to Skaelwood,” said Treäbu. “We can amass our forces there.”
“Either way, there is still one thing I must do before I leave the city.” He eyed the others, not wanting to say it out loud. “I can’t let it fall into Daro’s hands.”
“Good luck,” Vexen said.
“Thanks,” said Fahren. Then, half-jovially, he said, “Now, get the hell out of my city.”
Dareic didn’t feel relief when they left the port. Nor did he when they passed the fire gates, or the numerous Incinian ships on patrol. Even though their cloaks provided adequate disguises, he expected to look back and see a slew of vessels following after them.
“You still dead under there?” he tapped Vega, still laid out on the stretcher.
“Are we away?” Vega asked.
“We’re away,” said Dareic, as they passed the fire beacons. Vega shot up, pulled the cloth away from his body, and peered back at Kallenshar.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” he said. “I can’t believe we made it out alive.”
“Not everyone made it out alive, you reckless rats,” Xado spouted, leaving the wheel. “Phynn was like a brother to me. And now he’s dead because of you. His life may have meant nothing to you, but he was as fine a first mate as you can find, a damn good merchant and a loyal friend. I can’t man this ship alone, so I’m left with no choice but for you tosspots to pull your weight.”
“We’ve no experience in sailing,” Vega said. “Though I will help as I can.”
“I’m sorry Phynn didn’t make it, Captain,” Dareic said. “But we weren’t the ones who killed him.”
“Yes you were,” Xado eyed him furiously. “You just don’t see it, do you? You got him killed. Your damned mission. Your damned defiance. The lot of you aren’t worth half a Marinean’s life, and now, he’s gone. Because of you.”
“Because of us?” Treäbu said. “Because of us, the Incinian Sage is going to try and help us defeat Daro. Because of us, another nation may very well join our alliance. Because of us, your people—your family, hell, even your measly merchant business might just survive what’s to come. Because of us, you, Captain, should be grateful. Like it or not, you’ve had a part to play in all this as well. And so did Phynn. You may not think his life was worth getting into Kallenshar, but the outcome will justify his death. And for that, he’ll be remembered. For that, I honor him.”
Xado thought on Treäbu’s words with emotion still boiling inside. He lashed out, and slammed his fist into the Skaelar’s jaw. But Treäbu didn’t try to stop him. He let the Marinean knock him to the deck as Dareic, Vega and Vexen rushed to his side.
“I’m alright,” Treäbu said. “Let him have that one.”
Xado stormed toward the wheel, cursing.
Vexen helped Treäbu up with a delicate touch as Dareic turned to look one last time at the realm of Kallenshar.
On the dock, Fahren watched until the ship vanished into the darkness. He then turned, and looked to the city with only a single burning intention in his mind: to claim the Gauntlet of Wrath.
Chapter 17: Benevar
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Kaven’s voice sounded in Gabrel’s mind. “It was an accident. We both had the same idea—a midnight dip. We just had it at the same time.”
“I know, I believe you,” Gabrel thought back. “It’s just that you can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Well maybe that’s because I’m embarrassed, ok?”
“Why would you be embarrassed?” Gabrel thought. “You saw her jumblies, not the other way around.”
“Dammit, Gabe! Stop saying that. Or—thinking that. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you just stayed out of my head for a while.”
“What are you two discussing, I wonder?” Kade said, without looking back to the brothers.
“We didn’t say anything,” Kaven said.
“Not aloud,” said Kade. “But you’ve both been quite silent for some time. It’s rather obvious.”
“We weren’t talking about anything,” Kaven told her.
“Of course not,” Kade said. “But if you were, and I was to join the conversation—”
Oh no, Kaven thought.
“I’d probably tell you that whatever you’re talking about isn’t worth brooding over. If ever you think you might’ve done something wrong, I assure you, it’s alright.”
“And that’s the naked truth of it,” Gabrel added, drawing a chuckle from Kade.
“Funny,” Kaven said heatedly. “I’m glad you’re all having a laugh.”
“Good glory, what are you talking about?” Ayden asked.
“Kade, is there any way I can keep Gabrel out of my head?” Kaven begged.
“You know that’s not possible,” said Kade. “I warned you two. But you can silence each other’s voices if you wish.”
“Yeah,” Kaven said. “But what if he needs to tell me something really important later on?”
“Therein lies a dilemma,” Kade said simply. “What you need is a knock.”
“A knock?” Gabrel asked.
“Something you permit to penetrate the silence. A chosen word, a singular image, a specific thought. The one my grandfather and I shared was the call of a morning dove—a rare songbird in our realm. When he thought it to me, I knew he needed to speak. You should choose something meaningful to you both.”
At once, both Gabrel and Kaven immediately thought of their own wives’ names.
“No, hearing Adelyne’s name whenever you want to talk to me would be like a stinger in my spine—every time,” Gabrel thought, not wishing to be constantly reminded of the loss of his wife.
“Yeah,” Kaven thought. “How about Genton?”
“Might come up in casual conversation,” Gabrel debated. “Wouldn’t want to raise a false alarm.”
“Spirisortium?”
“That would definitely come up.”
“How about… mirrorblood.”
Gabrel thought on it. “Aye, I think that’ll work.”
“Look there!
” Asos called out, drawing everyone’s attention to the horizon.
“Thank heavens,” Kaven sighed, not knowing if he was more relieved that the towers of Benevar appeared before them, or that he’d finally gotten Gabrel’s voice out of his head.
“At last,” Ayden said. “Benevar. I wonder if news of Caleton has made it this far. I wonder if they even know I’m their Queen.”
“If they don’t, they’ll know soon enough,” said Domini.
At the announcement of Ayden’s arrival, the inhabitants of Benevar filled the streets. Their faces were relieved, yet plagued with desperation as though the city had endured lasting hardships.
Calls to Ayden, pleading for her to remedy a thousand troubles, echoed in Gabrel’s and Kaven’s ears.
When they reached a grand castle, Ayden spoke to a man at the front gates.
“Inform the High Steward to convene my military council immediately,” she said. “And every ambassador in the city. Is there a Borean ambassador here?”
“Yes, Princess Ayden,” the man said. “She arrived last week.”
“Queen Ayden,” Ayden corrected him. The man’s eyes shone with confusion at first, then sorrow. “Caleton has fallen and my father with it.”
“Ap-pologies, my Queen,” said the man. “We’ve heard no such news.”
“Make sure the Borean is present,” Ayden said.
“Yes, your Majesty.”
Ayden started past him, but the man spoke again. “You should know,” his words halted her step, “she’s not just an ambassador. She’s the Borean Sage.”
Gabrel and Kaven soon found themselves in Benevar’s council chamber. Ayden sat at a large round table with high ranking officers, and a slew of other ambassadors.
“Your Majesty,” spoke the High Steward, Lord Lirian. “We are beyond relieved to find you alive and well.”
As Ayden informed them of the events leading up to their arrival, the brothers recalled memories of Allestron, Caleton and Avenalora.
Among the ambassadors, Gabrel took notice of the Borean Sage. Faelia was her name and she was a strange, yet beautiful creature, Gabrel thought. She had skin of ice blue, lips of a deep, dark blue, and hair of pure white. Her ears were slightly pointed, and the tip of her nose reminded him of a dark, shiny animal nose. Something else was quite unique about her, he realized, for every breath she exhaled could be seen, just like his own on a frigid winter’s day.