The Quintessence Cycle- The Complete Series

by Terry C. Simpson

  Vasys Balbas smiled.

  She unleashed her attack. In the same instant she summoned forth her claws.

  The meld died before it touched him. Not the dissipation common to kerin. The air seemed to twist, and the innumerable threads of soul unraveled.

  With his left hand, Balbas caught her wrist. Bones crunched. She cried out.

  Something unseen snatched her by the neck. She felt fingers, but Balbas’ other hand was still at his side. As she gasped for breath, the unseen hand raised her into the air.

  “You’re mine now.” Balbas’ lips curled into a rictus.

  His free hand flashed up. When his fist connected with her chin, blackness welcomed her home.

  D eath B low

  L eaving the army behind, Thar and the Winds rode for Despora atop an ereskar. For all the speed with which they traveled, the trip was painstakingly slow. Thar offered prayers to the Dominion, beseeching them to allow him to reach in time. Negative thoughts crept in despite his attempts to avoid them.

  He diverted some of his fears by picturing Elysse’s joy when he finally arrived at the stronghold. Memories of their first encounter, when she’d so easily bested him, built hope against the likelihood Balbas had already attacked. He used the faces of Winslow and Keedar in the same manner. Both were beacons. He couldn’t wait to see them, to hear their voices, to hug them.

  They arrived to find the Empire’s forces massed outside the city, banners hanging limp. Off to one side were several pyres and corpses stacked high. The air reeked of mud, char, and death. A horse carrying a High Priest departed from the army and approached. Thar considered riding past the man into the city, but the soldiers before him were on edge, weapons drawn. He called for the ereskar to halt.

  “Greetings, Master Tharkensen, I’m High Priest Jantien,” the man called out as he stopped a dozen feet away. “My apologies, but although many including the king himself have spoken for you, it’s best if I’m your escort. There’s much concern over the army you were said to lead.”

  “Understandable.” Thar dipped his head. “I expected as much, which is why I left them behind.”

  “And these two?” Jantien gestured in the direction of the Winds. “Who might they be?”

  “It would do well for you to address them, rather than me.”

  “My apologies. Would the two of you care to introduce yourselves so I know what to call you?”

  “I’m Akari, commander of the Jiantonese accompanying Thar.”

  “And I’m Yeren, a High Priest of Carador’s Jehazite Order.”

  “A Farlander and a westerner together,” Jantien mused.

  “It’s a long story,” Thar said. “One I would rather tell to the king and queen.”

  “The king, certainly, but not our queen.”

  Thar’s breath caught in his throat. “Why not her?” A subtle shift in Jantien’s demeanor confirmed Thar’s fear, but he had to know for certain. “Did I arrive too late?” The question was distant to his ears.

  Jantien nodded, a touch of sadness writ in his expression. “She was taken last evening. We would’ve sent out a search party, but the person responsible killed an entire complement of Blades and Dracodar guards. Worse yet, no one can say how he entered the stronghold or by which way he left. The king and one other were in her presence when she was taken. Those two, he left alive.”

  “Take me to King Ainslen, immediately. There’s no time to waste.”

  “Ainslen is dead.” Jantien was frowning. “He was killed in a duel with the Berendali High King. His son, Winslow, now Weilondran of Kheridisia, is the Empire’s new ruler.”

  He should have been relieved to hear this part of the plan had come to fruition, but instead all he could think of was Elysse in Vasys Balbas’ hands. He inhaled slowly and strengthened his resolve against the pain he felt. “Take me to him.” He clenched his fist, berating himself for not listening to Akari. He couldn’t help but shoulder the blame for whatever Balbas might do to her. Even if it meant his own life, he would see the man dead. Jantien must have seen the murder in his eyes, for he offered no protest. The High Priest turned his horse and led them into Despora.

  Within the stronghold, guards lined the halls, humans on one side, Dracodar on the other. The humans kept their hands on their weapons, wary eyes scanning every face. Those eyes relaxed a bit when they took in the High Priest but tightened at Thar and the two Winds. Thar put on his best commander’s face and refused to flinch from a single gaze. More often than not, the guard in question would eventually nod. The Dracodarians bowed to him.

  Some humans did their best to act as if the Dracodarians didn’t exist. Those who didn’t gawk regarded the creatures with suspicion or open fear. For their part, the Dracodar often scowled in return. At least neither group made snide remarks about the other. And they hadn’t come to blows as yet. The situation wasn’t ideal, but Thar would take it. A relationship such as this one would take time if it were to ever develop as Elysse had envisioned.

  Thoughts of her surfaced once again: the first day they’d met in the Smear so long ago, her audacity at walking in on him moments after King Jemare had contracted him to kill her. Her beauty and arrogance had drawn him. So had the challenge of defeating her. Yet, by the time he’d lost and become her consort he’d fallen in love, even if he hadn’t realized at first. He conjured the early years of his training under her, the wonders she’d revealed. The days and nights of plotting and small moves that would lead to larger outcomes were a blur and yet so vivid. Their first kiss … the first time they made love. Sighing, he chased away the memories.

  The High Priest led them to an alcove crowded with guards. The air was thick with sweat and Dracodar musk. They stopped before a set of double black ash doors. After brief words with a Guard Captain, who turned and rapped on the door in an elaborate pattern, they were allowed to enter.

  Representatives from the Empire’s farthest reaches sat at a large table across the room, their conversation dwindling to silence. On one side were the Thelusian Stonelords and Stonelady, the Heleganese Voices and their four Overlords, King Hanlin, King Menquan, and the counts of the Ten Hills. Opposite them were the Elder Ten, Patriarch Hamada, Matriarch Merisse, Martel, Stomir and the Dracodar First-Born. Sitting beside the Order’s leaders was a bronze-skinned, light-eyed Caradorii dressed in a collection of skins.

  Keedar and Winslow had places at the head of the table. With the crown atop his head, Winslow was the picture of a king. The young men were the first to their feet with Count Leroi Shenen not far behind.

  “Father!” Keedar exclaimed.

  “Thar!”

  Leroi stared from one to the other and then back to Thar. “You know them both? And you’re that one’s father?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Tharkensen the Lightning Blade, legend and myth, the greatest assassin whose name was stricken from the Empire by King Jemare. When King Hanlin mentioned that it was you who saved him, and Cardinton and Adelfried confirmed it, I had found it hard to believe, but here you are in the flesh. All these long years when most thought you dead or hiding halfway across the world, here you were plotting revenge.”

  Thar inclined his head. “Not so much revenge as a reckoning, a rise from the dregs, if you will.” He flashed a look toward the young men. “But more than that, a new start for us all. Those of us who’ve suffered through Far’an Senjin and the Day of Accolades deserve that much. All of us have been touched by the Game, even if we hold ourselves above others.” He let his gaze rove over the counts, nodding toward Cardinton and Adelfried who’d assumed their rightful places.

  “As long as the new king doesn’t turn into another tyrant, I’m willing to give it a try,” Leroi said.

  “Good.” Thar gestured to the two Winds beside him. “This is Akari and Yeren. Their tale is as great as any in the storybooks. The man who took our queen is none other than Vasys Balbas, the Farlander Warmonger, and … much more.” He proceeded to relay all he’d learned. When he finished, their exp
ressions were as incredulous as he’d expected.

  King Menquan cleared his throat and gestured in a dismissive fashion toward Yeren and Akari. “So we’re to believe these men are agents who once served Hazline? Agents of the Dominion? And that this Balbas once disguised himself as Cortens Kasandar?” He cocked his head with one thick eyebrow raised. “Quite the boast. It’s either stupidity or arrogance. Perhaps both. They could have picked up any part of their tale from the Word, and then used our faith against us.”

  “If they’re anything like Envald, I’m inclined to think it’s true,” Leroi said. “Besides, isn’t it strange this Farlander leader would name himself after one of Humel’s Swords?”

  “Or that Kasandar returned from the Farlands with the weapon needed to defeat the Dracodar,” Thar added.

  “As much as I wish to believe you, Tharkensen,” Stonelady Nadya said, hard eyes focused on Yeren. “I will never forget a Caradorii when I see one. You were called upon to save me from them in my youth. Now you ask for us to trust his kind? I have a hard enough time trying to accept his counterpart.” She cast a disdainful look at the Caradorii representative beside the Patriarch.

  Yeren’s eyes twinkled as he smiled. “Most Caradorii don’t wish ill of the Empire. Didn’t they fight beside you to defeat the High King? Did you think that was by chance? A blessing from the Dominion? No, those were my commands.”

  “What say you?” Menquan directed his attention to the Order’s leaders.

  “We follow the Word,” Hamada said. “Their tale is too closely related to the Word for us to deny. It answers questions our scholars have had since the beginning.”

  Akari spoke up. “It’s easy to prove our intentions. Less so our identity. However, Balbas strode in here and took one of yours, and there was nothing you could do to stop him. None of you saw him coming or going. By now, you have heard of his Soulbreaker army. Some of you have seen it. If you saw Keedar’s Blighted Brothers fight, you have an idea of the enemy you will face. We brought a comparable force, also made up of Soulbreakers. As well as enough weapons and armor crafted from kerin to outfit much of your forces. If we meant ill, we could have crushed you.”

  “Most of our warriors aren’t trained in the use of firesticks or breathers,” Winslow said. “And identifying those who could even use them presents another problem.”

  “We can pick out any man or woman capable of wielding them,” Akari said. “The secret lies in one of the few good things that passed on from the Blight. Even among humans. For some, the plague created an affinity to kerin. Once we’ve selected those with the ability, we have more than enough instructors who could train them.

  “All of that aside, Balbas has surely turned more people he’s encountered. Hence, the reason he traveled through the Treskelin first. It provided him with a wealth of candidates from which to choose.”

  “You mean he’s converted Dracodar?” Tak-Larim growled.

  “Yes.” Akari nodded. “Many Dracodar already possess what Balbas seeks: strong melders, namely those who can access the quintessence cycle.”

  “The what cycle?” Leroi interrupted.

  “Quintessence ,” Akari said. “It allows the melder to combine every other cycle, to achieve feats you might consider impossible. Only those who possess it can recognize its use. Once, the cycle belonged only to the Dracodar but millennia of breeding have passed it on. Thar?”

  They’d already discussed this bit. Drawing on the quintessence , Thar manifested a sword. He extended the weapon across the table. Recognition flitted across the faces of the First-Born and Stomir. The others were oblivious. Thar stabbed the table with the weapon and left it embedded there. Those who couldn’t see the meld would only be aware of the gash left in the surface. Indrawn breaths and exclamations spread through the room.

  “The quintessence isn’t just another cycle,” Akari continued. “It decides who can travel through the Dragon Gates, who is to become part of the Divine War. Balbas already spread like a disease across Jiantona and your eastern lands here. The west faces the same fate.

  “He’ll convert your queen and the others of the first Dracodar in the Fringes of Aladel. She’s the greatest Mesmer alive. With her under his command, he’ll control them all. He’ll take hold of the kerin mines there and return here with that entire army to convert as many of you as he can. Then, he will cross the Dragon Gates with a formidable army to do his masters’ bidding.

  You only think you’ve seen or heard of great wars. Nothing will compare. The Culling, the Blight, the Thousand Year War, the Empire War … they will be mere blemishes compared to the utter darkness Balbas will unleash. No one will be safe. Not you, your wives, your children, your children’s children … No one.”

  Fearful murmurs filled the room. Delegates leaned over to each other, some whispering, some arguing amongst themselves. Many shook their heads, unable to fathom what they’d heard.

  “How do we stop him?” Winslow asked over the din. The room quieted.

  “We must retake your queen and defeat Balbas’ armies before he accesses the Dragon Gates. Yeren and myself will keep him occupied while you fight the main battle.”

  “Sounds simple enough,” Leroi said. “Perhaps too simple. We seem to be forgetting two things: Balbas and his army already have a head start, and we still have the remnants of an enemy force to deal with, remnants who seem inclined to revolt when the chance arises.”

  A frown wrinkled Yeren’s brow. “Who defeated Taakertere?”

  “Ainslen,” Leroi said. “But he died afterward.”

  Yeren’s eyes shifted ever so slightly in Akari’s direction. The look carried a meaning Thar could only wonder after. “So the Soulguards have no one to answer to. And the regular conscripts follow their lead.” The Wind stroked his chin. “As a High Jehazite priest, I can convince them that all of this is a part of the promises of the Crystal Skies.”

  “How does that help us?” Menquan asked.

  “Jehazites are to the west what your Order is here. The Crystal Skies are a portent that states the west will strike out to conquer and one of their own will return to them as ruler of all.” Yeren nodded toward Winslow. “Your new king is the son of a woman born to those lands. For all the hate the west has for those of Dracodar blood, not one among them can deny that the Dracodar have origins in the Tomb of Shattered Souls.”

  “Are you certain you can persuade them?” Thar asked.

  “Yes. Their faith is that strong.”

  “And the matter of getting there before Balbas?” Thar regarded both Winds.

  “In order to access the Dragon Gates, there is a piece Balbas requires,” Akari said. “Yeren placed it in the city of Sapar in northwest Carador in case of this particular eventuality. The traps and traveling to Sapar will delay Balbas, hopefully weaken him. Coupled with the power he had to expel in his conversions and to defeat Envald, he’ll need to rest. That will buy us enough time to reach the Gates before him.”

  Hope flickered within Thar. “We should head to this Sapar, then. Surprise him and take back the queen before he converts her.”

  Akari shook his head. “Knowing Balbas as we do, he has already begun the process. It cannot be reversed in Mareshna.”

  “No!” cried both Keedar and Winslow.

  Exclamations burst from the First-Born. All around the table, men and women chattered furiously amongst themselves. The noise seemed distant to Thar. He repeated Akari’s words as if they would change. Images of Elysse’s prismatic scales turned to a sickly grey crept into his head. Squeezing his eyes shut, he banished the visions.

  “You can’t possibly know for certain.” His voice was not his own. It was a hoarse thing. “We should still go to Sapar, save her now.”

  “You cannot confront Balbas,” Akari said. “You’ve seen the decimation he wrought within the Treskelin.”

  “I don’t care.” Prickles ran down Thar’s skin. All too familiar tingles coursed through his body. The heat of his anger and fear rose
in to a boil. Red clouded his vision. “All my life I was told one person or another was impossible to defeat. Yet they all fell before me. This creature will be no different. If you don’t wish to go, then I will do so myself.”

  Akari met his gaze with steely eyes. “Ah, yes, the Myth Killer.” He raised his voice without shouting. “Although you listened to us, doubt still lingers. Let me convince you. I will allow you to strike me with a death blow. If I should die … no, if it should harm me, then you can leave and your armies can fight this battle as you see fit. If you fail, you will do as I say.”

  Bellowing, Thar twisted away from Akari, arm magnified with all his soul, with every cycle he possessed. He pivoted and drove forward, hands balled into a fist filled with the entirety of his rage, frustration, love, and failure. The lightning within him was a flood, an ocean. Beyond measure. Uncontainable.

  For all the speed with which he struck, the blow seemed to take an eternity. Akari was smiling at him. Thar’s bellow stretched to a roar. He would wipe the smile from the man’s features. He would blast that leering face, the entire head, from Akari’s shoulders.

  Upon impact, flesh was shorn away. Bones crunched. Akari’s features became a mangled, bloody mess.

  And then the face was whole.

  Thar blinked. There’d been no explosion upon impact as he’d expected, no concussion to make a ruin of the entire room. He’d seen … he’d felt his death blow connect, recognized the damage as it occurred.

  But, now, his fist was simply touching Akari’s nose.

  His shoulders slumped. Any sense of fight abandoned him. He tried to make sense of it all. He considered the failure to be caused by kerin, but there was no hint of the metal on Akari. This … this had been something else.