by Justin Sloan
He was weak!
“So, you’re like the rest of us after all,” she said.
“I’m nothing like you,” he said, regaining his composure. “For one, I will live beyond tomorrow. You? You’ll have your brain harvested, your magic learned, and then your vegetable of a body tossed to the remnant for feeding.”
There was no way to digest that idea, she thought with a gulp. But instead of showing him her fear, she forced a laugh and said, “Then what the hell are we waiting for?”
“You’re new to this whole magic thing, so I’ll ignore your ignorance—this time. We just teleported here. When magic is used, especially such magic for long distances and based on hearsay, a bit of a recovery time is required.”
She turned back toward the trees that now blocked her view of the area where they had left Donnon. He had come all this way to find a healer, and succeeded, only to end up like this.
“The man, did you… kill him?”
Master Irdin raised an eyebrow. “He meant something to you? Well, I hope it was purely physical, because his mind will be no better than a remnant if he survives what Wodain sent his way.”
“You’re a monster,” Rhona spat.
“I’m a product of my upbringing, as are you. The difference is that I’m a survivor and a conqueror. You? You’re simply a means to an end.”
“Yes, your end.”
He laughed. “Unfortunately for you, child, I’m destined for greatness. Divinity, as a matter of fact. So, tell me… how many gods have you slain?”
“Any world that would allow you to become a god would be one I’d happily leave behind, and anyone willing to worship you would deserve that poor excuse for a world.”
His smile faded and his brow furrowed as he assessed her. “Troth, please remember that the girl dies if this one tries anything. I’ll be resting.” With that, he walked off to disappear behind a rock formation with gnarled trees growing out of it.
Rhona looked at Troth and then Wodain, wondering if she’d be able to make a move before those two were able to stop her. Or more importantly, before they were able to hurt Kia.
She couldn’t take the risk, so instead, she sat down, cross-legged, and closed her eyes. When the moment was right, she wanted to ensure she had every ounce of strength she could possibly muster, and that meant resting right now.
She awoke as a shadow fell over her, and she looked up to see Master Irdin, his gray robes flapping in the wind.
“It’s time,” he said, and then formed a square with his fingers, which he extended and then twisted so that a gushing of wind sounded around them and then suddenly, their surroundings were gone.
She blinked, confused by the purple glow that lit an otherwise dark, great hall.
“Welcome to my home,” Master Irdin said, stepping forward to reveal Kia nearby. “The two of you can get better acquainted. We’ll need you close, after all, if we’re going to bet on you not wanting to see her killed so that you can give us your mind and powers.”
“That’ll never happen,” Rhona said.
Master Irdin stared with his icy glare. “When She arrives, we shall see.”
His robes flowed as he spun and walked up the nearby stairs to join his companions. They all left, leaving Rhona and Kia alone in the room. Now that he was gone, it was clear this was some sort of dungeon. They weren’t constrained, but judging by the clicks and clanks on the door after the others exited, they were locked down here.
Kia looked up at Rhona, eyes wide with fright. “You were with my father?”
The words didn’t come, so instead Rhona nodded and held out her arms. Kia ran to her, accepting the embrace, and the two stood there like this for a few minutes.
Finally, Rhona said, “Don’t worry, child. I’m going to get us out of here. You see, this place is full of shadows, and shadows are my friend.”
Kia looked up at her, hopeful, and then smiled. “I can manipulate fire.”
“Can you?”
Kia nodded.
“Well then, it looks like we’re well on track to finding your father. Let’s make every step count.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When Alastar found himself tied to a tree and noticed the others putting up camp, he knew they were out of the immediate danger. They, but not him.
His first thought was to pray for a blessing of strength, but when he tried, nothing happened. He clenched his fists, eyes closed as he focused, but it was no use. His faith was at its lowest. And how could it not be, with the conflicting emotions about the war on magic, and his former brothers in arms turning on him?
But most of all, he was discouraged by the fact that he had been unable to stop the sorcerers from taking his sister. He had seen her fend for herself, but he had just healed Kia. How long would it take the girl to regenerate her powers without his healing to assist her along the way?
Taland approached and stood over him, sneering.
“You’re making a mistake here,” Alastar grumbled. “We have no idea what we’re dealing with.”
“Perhaps you don’t, as you’ve lost your way.” Taland sneered. “But we do. It’s evil, plain and simple.”
“The only thing plain or simple about this whole situation is you, if you think that’s the truth.”
Taland’s jaw jutted out, but then he flipped his hair back and laughed. “Oh, I’ve missed you, Alastar. You know, none of the other paladins could ever even hope to stand a chance against me when it came to sword play. But you? You made it fun.”
“This isn’t a game, Taland.”
“Isn’t it, though?” He shifted on his feet so that the sunlight glinted off of his armor. “The dance we all dance. Temptations, little harlots like your sister weaving their magic in the world until we bring them down… All of it. And I’ve won.”
“Leave my sister out of it, or I’ll tear out that tongue of yours and use it to wipe my arse, you piece of shite.”
“Whoa, the language on you since going rogue.” Taland’s eyes narrowed as he glanced around to ensure no one was listening. “Did I ever tell you about the time she tried to seduce me?”
Alastar struggled, snarling, but the ropes were too well secured.
“It’s true,” Taland continued, “one day when she was bathing, and I happened to be passing. She called me in and presented herself to me, as naked as the day she was born. It was a sight, let me tell you. The most perfect, perky little breasts you’ve ever seen. Naturally, I turned her away out of disgust—disgust that she would attempt to sway one of the holy knights of the Order of Rodrick. But she pleaded, can you imagine that? She ran at me from the bath, water dripping down her body like tiny fingers caressing her every inch, and knelt before me, begging that you would never find out from me.”
“Let me guess, you made her that promise.”
“After she… earned it.” Taland’s eyes sparkled with spite-filled humor.
“Two problems with that story,” Alastar said, focusing on controlling his temper. “First, I don’t believe she’d ever stoop to your level. Second, if that’s true, that means you just broke your promise. So, either you lied about the story, or broke your promise to her, meaning that either way you’re immoral. You don’t deserve the armor you wear.”
“At least I still wear my armor,” Taland growled, then punched Alastar across the jaw with his gauntleted hand. The blow caused a sharp pain and ringing in Alastar’s ears, bringing back memories of a similar time when he’d lost in the sparring ring and yielded, but still been struck by this same guy. He should have known at that moment that Taland wasn’t pure of heart.
And now that he tasted blood, he thought back to other moments in his upbringing. The time when two women had left Sir Gildon’s chambers, blushing. He had never even considered what possibly could have been going on in there. When the servants had gossiped about strange chanting in the night, and Alastar had been tasked with shutting them up. Or the time he had walked past the baths to find his sister join him, s
till damp, and give Taland a slight, secretive smile.
Had it all been a lie?
Taland was laughing, but it seemed so distant at that moment. Everything Alastar had dismissed as ridiculous came flooding back into his memory at that moment, and he found himself questioning everything he knew about the Order of Rodrick.
And if the Order could be doubted, maybe all of this talk of the prayers actually being magic were true, too?
He didn’t need faith or prayers, in that case. All he would need was a belief that he could call upon this energy, whatever it was, and make the spells happen. Right?
A light appeared before his eyes, and for a moment, he thought he was simply seeing spots due to the hit he’d taken. But then he saw it had a shape like a human and was nodding its head.
Wait, was this thing telling him he was right? Answering his internal thought?
He forced his eyes wide, blinking, and saw that it was certainly not an illusion. There was a spirit of light, like a little angel, or maybe a fairy, hovering in the air inches in front of his eyes.
“What sorcery is this?” Taland demanded, and a moment later Bale and two others ran up, but froze in their tracks.
“He’s one of ‘em,” Bale said in a mixture of awe and betrayal. “Alastar’s turned warlock on us.”
“Wrong,” Alastar whispered, eyes focused on the little fairy. “I’ve seen the light, and it’s glorious.”
As his eyes shone, the fairy darted around and zipped through the ropes that bound him, thus setting him free. Others drew swords while he held out his hand for the fairy to alight on.
If what he understood about the clansmen was true, based on what the visiting mystics Volney and Larick had said, this was more of a manifestation of his magic. A way for his mind to cope with it, and to harness the spells.
Very well. It was time to get to harnessing.
With a flick of his wrist, the spirit transformed into a bright light and then exploded outward into intense beams of light that burned through even the paladins’ armor.
None dropped dead, but all were felled by the intense pain. They writhed on the ground as the glowing beams became light snakes that slithered across their bodies, causing spasms of more pain with each second.
Alastar walked among them, only pausing to take Taland’s sword and stomp on the man’s outstretched hand. When he was at the edge of their group, he called back the spirit and said, “Find them.”
It nodded again, and then zipped away. He stood for a moment, unsure what to do, and then sprinted after it to the calls of revenge from his former brothers behind him.
He was done with his old ways. Now, he would be a new sort of paladin, one that fought for justice and honor, not for some forced beliefs filled with hypocrisy and lies. Now, he would fight for his sister, Donnon, and little Kia. He would fight to ensure their safety, and he would oppose all who stood in the path of righteousness.
The way ahead was littered with remnant, and the spirit of light was leading him right toward a cluster of them. They seemed to be gathering around something, or someone, writhing on the ground.
A group saw him and charged, but he quickly learned why Taland had bested him so many times in the training grounds of the castle—this sword was lighter, easier to maneuver, and seemed to have an extra boost to each swing. That, or this light surrounding him was giving him more strength than he had ever experienced.
He sliced through three of them, their wild eyes sure to cause him nightmares. An ax came from a fourth, which he dodged. Weaving around the creature, he came up with a thrust that impaled two more of them. Kicking them off of his sword, he lifted one and used it as a shield to charge through the rest to reach the light fairy.
As he burst through the crowd of remnant, he tossed the body aside and then froze. Before him was Donnon, just now pushing himself to his feet. The man’s clothes were singed, a circle of still smoldering remnant bodies surrounding him.
“Donnon?”
The others looked between the two of them, unsure what to do.
Donnon didn’t seem to process what was going on, his eyes looking crazed as he spun, searching for something. His eyes landed on Alastar, but didn’t recognize him, and he lunged forward with fists flailing. With the light-fueled energy, Alastar had no trouble dodging, but the circle of remnant forming around them was a problem. Since he had given up his armor before leaving the Fortress of Stirling, he kept having to watch his back for their spear thrusts and hatchet chops.
“Donnon, it’s me!” he shouted while slapping a punch aside and back stepping, “Snap out of it!”
All he got was a grunt in return, and a lunge that caught him off-guard. No strike came, but Donnon’s teeth came for Alastar’s throat. He barely had time to catch the man, but then, just as he was struggling to keep the freakishly strong clansman from tearing out his larynx with his teeth, Alastar had a thought—this man wasn’t in his right mind, and maybe he could heal his mind? It was a better plan than killing him.
Instead of fighting him, Alastar grabbed hold of Donnon and turned his head just enough to avoid getting bitten. He had never healed without a prayer before, but the action came like second nature. Gold glowed in his eyes, and he smiled as the energy seeped out of him and into Donnon.
***
One moment Donnon craved blood and only saw a monster before him—a man who would do anything to hurt him and everything he cared about in the world, though he himself wasn’t sure what that meant. All he cared about was inflicting pain.
The next moment, he was in the man’s arms, warmth coming over him like a soothing bath on a cool day mixed with a pleasant spring breeze. All of his senses came streaming back, and a fog cleared from his mind.
When the man released him, he staggered away and looked up to see a weathered Alastar, smiling back at him.
He was about to return the smile when he noticed the army of remnant that had formed a circle around them.
“We did it,” Alastar said, stumbling to one knee. He pushed himself back up, glanced around and said, “Now, we’d better run like hell.”
All Donnon could do was mutter, “What?”
“They… they have Kia.”
At those words, a new power rose within Donnon as he remembered his little girl’s face as she had healed earlier that day. All concept of time had faded, judging by the position of the sun in the sky, it couldn’t have been that long ago.
The closest remnant paused long enough for them to see skin that looked to be rotting, and this one was taller than the rest, eyes dark. He sniffed, then snarled. “Let’s kill these bastards,” it said in a gravelly voice, then charged.
“NOW!” Alastar shouted, and tossed Donnon his sword.
Donnon caught it and tested its balance before spinning and chopping off the top half of the remnant’s head. It went spinning through the air and slapped another in the face.
Then, all hell broke loose.
Luckily for Donnon, he was full of energy, and his mind was at its peak—he saw that the fallen remnant wore a crude metal breastplate, so he quickly struck the sword against it and watched with excitement as a spark formed. He did it again, and this time pulled from his internal energy, unleashing the potential of that spark so that it shot forward, creating a path through the remnant.
“On me!” he called back to Alastar, and together the two darted past the burnt grass and flaming bodies of remnant that had been caught in the fire.
He was almost past the small army before they even began to realize what was happening, but when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Alastar was lagging.
Dammit, he must’ve used his magic to heal him, which meant he couldn’t very well be left behind.
Giving it his all, Donnon began to cut down remnant left and right. One leaped over the others and almost had him, but Donnon thrust the sword up and skewered it in the air, continuing the trajectory so that the remnant flew off of the sword and knocked over two more.
<
br /> “I can manage,” Alastar said, holding his hand up to cast a ball of light as he caught up. “Close your eyes.”
Even behind closed eyelids, the flash was bright. When Donnon looked again, the nearby remnant were blinking. One swung wildly, taking down another at its side.
Alastar wrapped an arm around Donnon and said, “Get me to safety, and we’ll find your daughter and my sister.”
“Deal,” Donnon replied, and the two took off in a staggering run.
The remnant were fast, but each time one caught up with them, Donnon would drop it with a swipe of the sword. One tried to throw its spear, but Alastar simply caught it, yelled a “Thank you!” and used it to help him balance like a walking stick as he ran.
They reached a river with a small rope bridge, which Donnon cut free so that the remnant trying to cross over were swept away by the river rapids. More tried to follow, but the same thing happened to them.
Alastar stood, catching his breath when finally, one of the remnant got smart and used his spear to stabilize himself as he crossed the river. A quick thrust in the chest with Alastar’s spear sent him back into the water, but the two decided to keep on the move, in case others saw what happened and realized how to cross as well, in larger numbers this time.
Alastar and Donnon crossed a swamp and several rocky hillsides before finding themselves on a plateau Donnon recognized as being on the border between his clan’s land and that of the neighboring one.
The trail of remnant was long gone, and the two were able to catch a breath of air. Donnon knelt at the nearby stream and cupped his hands to bring water to his mouth, eyes never leaving their surroundings.
After he had his fill, he sat back and pointed to the reflection of the now setting sun, glimmering off of a lake not too far off.
“We’ll find Clan Lockmire there,” Donnon said, pointing to the far side of the lake, where plumes of smoke could be seen rising from the point where a grouping of trees was nestled between the hills.