The Quintessence Cycle- The Complete Series

by Terry C. Simpson

  Lightning bridged the gap. It found a home in her.

  Her smile turned to consternation for an instant. She growled. Low. Guttural. And then her lips curved so wide her fangs showed.

  Thar’s eyes widened at the mad grin. He’d expected her to be writhing in pain. Before fear froze him, he kicked out.

  She was already gone, darting to his flank, her movement a blur at the edge of his vision. Even as he turned, her claws found purchase and left a fiery trail down the leftmost portion of his back.

  He released another lightning burst. Again, too slow. Grimacing, both in pain and frustration, Thar spun. Empty space greeted him. As well as the agony of another rake along his right side. He ground his teeth. With a thought he withdrew his nimbus until it hovered mere inches above his skin. He felt her move before he saw her.

  Right.

  He twisted to avoid the attack, the feel of her a mere brush against his soul. But that feathery touch was all he needed.

  Left.

  A slight shift saw him unscathed. They continued in this vein: her pressing while he defended.

  He dodged and parried, mind racing through possibilities as he tried to understand his lightning’s failure. The charges weren’t a meld, a creation of soul of any sort; they were a part of him, a function of his body to which he’d learned to attune himself. He’d struck with all the power he could muster, and she obviously felt the attack. Yet, her strikes were coming faster than before, with such legerity they were increasingly difficult to intercept.

  The scuff of her clawed feet on sand and shale seemed to emanate from every direction at once. As did her touch on his nimbus. Thar ignored both sight and sound and fought only by feel. His arms and sword were a constant swirl about him like a man fending off an insect swarm.

  Thar’s chest heaved; the muscles in his arm burned; his shoulder ached. The sun beat down on him, a weight so great he wanted to bow beneath it. Mere minutes had passed yet they felt like an eternity. He’d gone from deciding whether to kill her to clinging to survival. Although he’d not won any of their numerous sparring sessions, he’d thought he knew her well enough to find some weakness. He’d been a fool to gamble.

  Perhaps a chance remained.

  Her claws stabbed through the scales and meat of his sword arm, bringing a grunt. His weapon fell from suddenly limp fingers. There had been no lull between the last attack he’d dodged and this one. In the next instant he would be dead.

  Thar released his hold on sintu . His nimbus disintegrated. He cleared his head of all thought but his love for her, their children, and their quest to see the Dracodar rise again.

  A heartbeat later her mind slammed into his. And paused for an instant upon discovery of a soul already dedicated to her, one so devoted it was willing to take her life or give its own in defense of a belief for which she’d sacrificed so much. Thar surrendered and allowed her to sift through him at will, every thought focused on Keedar, Winslow, and the Dracodar, his fear for them all. She drew forth the memories of his time as a Blade, their meeting in the Smear, his formation of the Consortium, his training under her, his loyalty to her. His undying love. The probe relived his memory of the Red Swamps, the Empire’s plans, the massacres within the Treskelin, the likely dire outcome of the battle beyond the ridge. At last the invasion eased, but her caress remained.

  At her unspoken command Thar picked up his sword and sheathed it. He led the way among the bones up the hill toward the line of firebreathers and the Empire’s complement of Dracodar, Soulbreakers, and Farlanders who operated them. A tiny bit of him said this was a mistake, but the greater, overwhelming majority deemed it appropriate. These were his people, her people. There was no need to keep them apart.

  On the ridgeline, smoking craters, mangled metal, and corpses marked where enemy attacks had been successful. A slight tremor eased through Thar at the sight of the decimation, as much his sentiment as it was hers. The redolence of char and blood was a heavy, suffocating quilt.

  Commands and shouts were punctuated by firebreathers’ roars as the Empire’s weapons released salvos, one after the other in quick succession. As soon as they fired, the operators wheeled the firebreathers down and out of the enemy’s sight. The hum of incoming kerin balls buzzed moments before explosions sent up a shower of earth along the ridge in numerous locations. The operators pushed the firebreathers back up to different spots.

  The mill of activity lulled as one person, then another, became aware of her, a presence such that it couldn’t be ignored. Eventually, they all faced her. She strode among them, imperious, her mind connecting to theirs. She elicited bows as she passed. Thar followed a step behind, tightness in his chest building as they advanced uphill.

  When she gained the summit, Elin-Lahnim slowed, eyes widening as she took in the spectacle below. She stopped. A hiss escaped her lips. Thar felt the tremor of her reaction within his own mind. At first it was apprehension, which quickly devolved into outrage and fear, mimicking Thar’s emotions.

  The battle was a slaughter. Death played favorites to none, neither man, animal, nor Dracodar. The Abandoned still toiled, if a bit less vigorously, their numbers depleted by half. Balbas’ troops had split, on one front they struggled against the Abandoned, and on the other they fought the Empire’s forces. Between the groups stood the line of Balbas’ firebreathers, spitting death in two directions.

  Following the new links he’d placed, Thar sought and found Winslow. The young king had transformed. Golden scales muddied and bloodied, Winslow swept his sword out in deadly arcs. His massive hornbear was ever at his side, bellowing and swiping at any enemy within range. The First-Born formed a semicircle around Winslow, the dead piled at their feet.

  Yet, for all their prowess, the result seemed inevitable. Balbas simply had too many Soulbreakers and converts at his disposal. They would soon overrun the Abandoned and the Empire. All of Elin-Lahnim’s work reviving the Dracodar would vanish today.

  A lump in his throat, Thar searched for Keedar. To no avail. He could still feel the connection to his son, but it pointed to the midst of the Soulbreakers and operators manning the enemy firebreathers. Thar choked back a cry.

  His son was already down, perhaps dead.

  And he and Elin-Lahnim would bear witness to Winslow’s fall. They would watch the last of their children perish.

  As Thar magnified his legs to launch himself across the distance down into the fray, the ground along Balbas’ firebreathers ripped asunder with a roar to challenge an avalanche. Stone, dirt, metal, and men were flung aside. Blue flames and white and yellow smoke vomited skyward. A crevasse appeared, the flames forming a wall within and above it. Into the infernal gash tumbled the remnants of the firebreathers and their operators. Those who’d fallen outside the hole were mangled messes, bodies riddled by kerin shards.

  Dozens of forms leaped from the fissure, scales like burnished blue armor in the inferno’s glare. Someone yelled something about the Ten Hells, voice filled with a mixture of awe and fear. When the forms landed they charged toward the Soulbreakers and Farlanders engaged with Winslow’s forces. At their head sprinted Keedar, golden scales rippling to match each stride.

  Cheers echoed all around Thar. A thrill swelled within him.

  However, a quick glance at the situation told him all he needed to know. Despite Keedar’s success, the Empire and the Abandoned were still vastly outnumbered. They might yet survive this day, but even with a victory the Dracodar might never recover.

  “This must end now,” Elin-Lahnim said.

  Her mind leaped to each consciousness along the ridge. It delved into them, connected every cycle through the quintessence . She reached outside of them and into the old corpses and bones, drawing on any scintilla of soul from millions. The world burned brilliant, an incandescence to challenge Mandrigal.

  The meld erupted, across the ground, into the sky. It hopped from bone to bone, remain to remain, cadaver to cadaver, dead to living, living to dead, swept across t
he battlefield without regard for Dracodar or man, half-breed or animal, friend or foe. Thousands of minds connected like jewels on a necklace.

  “This ends now.”

  And so the battle ceased. Every living being at the Tomb of Shattered Souls faced Elin-Lahnim. Like a sighing wind came the tender lament of stillness.

  Back down the hill, there was a rage-filled scream.

  D ragon G ates

  H er mind was hers once again. And in ways she wished it wasn’t. Such was the pain she suffered, the mental anguish that tried to squeeze the life from her. She cradled Winslow and Keedar against the grey scales of her chest. Thar had his arms around them. Their burnished gold brought tears trickling down her cheeks once more. She’d lost track of how long they’d stood like this with the Dragon Gates’ monolithic pillars at their backs, sand beneath their feet, the choppy seas spread to either side, and the briny wind caressing her face. All that mattered was this moment. Despite a wealth of regret, she would cherish it forever.

  The remnants of the armies massed down the hill, murmurs and prayers carried by a wind that sang a baleful dirge. Grey smoke still drifted from the battle-scarred land and a black murk boiled up from the pyres. The malodor of burnt flesh threaded the breeze. Carrion birds whirled above the pyres, squawking at a meal denied, while those on the ground pecked at any morsel.

  At least a dozen such pyres rose above the nearby ridgeline, a testament to the number of the dead the Abandoned had piled atop each other. A testament to the number of dead. She couldn’t help but blame herself for the near annihilation of her kind. She envisioned a hundred scenarios over numerous centuries, scenarios with the possibility to have influenced a better ending to this day. They worsened the heartache.

  Sighing, she eased the last of her progeny away from her. It was time. Even if she didn’t want to go, the Longing was irresistible.

  “Are you certain there’s no other way?” Keedar asked.

  “Not according to the Winds.” She glanced in the direction of Hazline’s two agents. They had taken up a position beside the Dragon Gates. “After all I’ve seen and felt while under Balbas’ power, I have no reason to doubt them. No one in Mareshna has ever found a cure for the Blight. If the Winds say the answer, and our fate … my fate, lies beyond the Gates, then it must be so.”

  “But every single person with the quintessence ?” Winslow shook his head. “I thought we’d come here to prevent this from happening.”

  “No,” Thar said, “we came to stop Balbas. We succeeded.”

  She understood her son’s apprehension. If only things could be different. “The quintessence is the reason for the Longing.” She felt it in her bones, and in the majority of those present. Her calling was their calling. Perhaps she’d sealed their fates by seizing their minds, but she’d been left with little choice. She took solace in the fact Thar had spotted the one weakness to Balbas’ hold: the love for her people. The outcome would have certainly been worse otherwise. “The few of us still alive who possess it gives Balbas cause to stay in Mareshna despite being thwarted. If somehow we were to resist the pull from whatever lies beyond the Gates, he would eventually return to bind us to him, to make us fight for him and his masters. We can’t allow that to happen.”

  “A good thing you two haven’t achieved the cycle,” Thar said. “Remember this day any time you think to strive for it. And remember the Winds will hunt down any who develop it from this day forth, either killing them or sending them through the Gates.”

  “Why both of you?” pleaded Keedar. “Why? Just when I have a family again.”

  She understood his pain. If she could change it, soothe it, she would.

  “You still have a family.” Thar nodded to Winslow. “Your brother. And all who remain that are part of the Dracodar bloodline. See to them.”

  “It’s not the same thing,” Keedar said glumly, so much like the little boy she’d left in Delisar’s care long ago.

  “No, it isn’t but it’s close enough,” she said. “I will miss you as much or more than you will miss me. I’d dreamed of a time when I’d get to live the rest of my life watching the two of you carry on my legacy, bring me a wealth of grandchildren. But sometimes dreams are just that. At least I know you became strong young leaders, capable of holding together the unity needed to survive. And I got to see the Dracodar rule once more. Breaking the cycle of destruction that brought about our downfall is up to you now. Promise me you’ll finish it.”

  “We promise,” her sons said in unison, if with a little reluctance.

  “Mother,” Winslow said. “The Longing took a friend of mine, an Aladar named Kel-Nasim. If you should see him on the other side, let him know all is well.” She nodded.

  A hum filled the air, emanating from behind her. The two pillars lit up. Energy, like horizontal lightning, arced between them. The power coalesced and crackled, an angry beast trapped within a cage.

  The Winds stepped away from the Gates and shouted out commands. At the direction of the First-Born, the survivors filed up the hill. Although most were Dracodar of one form or another, including Soulbreakers and Blighted Brothers, there were also a number of half-breeds and humans. To know humans far removed from their Dracodar bloodlines could gain the quintessence was as worrying as it was promising. Expressions a mixture of apprehension and fear, they approached the Gates.

  She locked gazes with the First-Born. The moment seemed to stretch for an eternity.

  “May Hazline be with you,” she whispered.

  Yan-Harin nodded once and stepped into the energy bands. He disappeared. A murmur passed through the crowd. The Abandoned alone did not react. This wasn’t new to them. For the entirety of their lives this ritual had been commonplace. The rest of the First-Born and the majority of her Dracodar followed. Next was the procession of humans and half-breeds, and then the Soulbreakers, the Abandoned, and the Blighted Brothers. The Dragon Gates swallowed them all.

  A palpable quiet descended. All that remained were natives from the western kingdoms, the Empire, several thousand Farlanders, and a sprinkling of Dracodarkind. A remnant of a remnant. Tears rolled down her cheek at that last. Her chest heaved as she took in a deep breath. She let it out, seeking some relief from her heartache. She found a mere sliver. As meager as it was, the alternative was far worse.

  The Winds stepped up beside her. “Balbas is already heading east,” said Akari. “He will make his way back to Jiantona to leave through the Dragon Gates on that side of the world.”

  “What’s to become of my sons? They may rule for now, but the stigma of who and what they are remains.”

  “We hold the ears of those who matter,” Yeren said. “The fulfillment of the Crystal Skies and the Chosen Campaigns cannot be denied. The Soulguards and the priests will spread the word to any who doubt.”

  Akari spoke next. “As you had planned, the Order of the Dominion and the other rulers will be certain your sons are recognized for saving Mareshna from another Thousand Year War. I’ll return to Jiantona, bringing Keedar with me, hailing him as the champion who defeated Balbas. He will be the new Warmonger. They are in good hands. However, their actions during their tenure as rulers will decide who they become in the end.”

  For the first time she found herself wondering if all her machinations were indeed her own. The Winds’ words made her feel like a piece on a Dragon Gates board. She turned to her sons. “You’ve seen the good and evil in this world. I trust both of you to be just.” She gave them a last embrace.

  “You Winds seem to have all the answers,” Thar said, voice quiet and deliberate. “But know this, should any harm come to the two of them at your hands, I will find the power needed to make you pay.”

  Akari’s smile did not reach his eyes. “The first is unlikely … the last, impossible. But we have no doubt you would try, Myth Killer.” He held out his hand, palm up. “The Gates beckon.”

  She released her children and faced the Dragon Gates. The hum was abruptly louder, the ligh
tning-like energy brighter.

  What waited on the other side? Was it another world, a place where she would fit in? Was it a gathering of armies for a great war between pantheons as the Winds had claimed? Was it one of the Ten Hells? She licked her lips.

  “We’ll be fine, my love.” Thar gripped her hand. Their fingers intertwined. “We’re together. Together we can accomplish anything.”

  Calm washed over her. They strode into the Gates, gold beside grey. Her last thought, when she touched the energy bands and a tingling sensation shot through her, was the emptiness of not being with Keedar and Winslow, and her failure to completely secure the vengeance she’d spent her life pursuing.

  ******

  “What do you think is on the other side?” Keedar regarded the Dragon Gates, the afterimage of his parents’ departure burnt into his mind. Most of his life he’d lived for his family and for the dream of seeing the Dracodar descendants rise to prominence. Today, a part of him was empty. He was uncertain if it would ever be filled.

  “A place where they belong.” Winslow also stared at the structure. It was quiet now, energy no longer thrumming between the pillars. Beyond it, the sand seemed to stretch forever.

  “Where to now?”

  “I’d hoped to go home,” Winslow said.

  “And where is that?”

  Winslow shrugged. “For me, it’s Kasandar. I have a son and wife waiting.”

  The Abandoned still present were down the hill, all having shed their robes. Their scales were unblemished. Keedar could feel his link to them. As well as other faint ones, impressions, far away to the east. “It seems there’s work left for me yet.”

  “For me also.” His brother’s gaze was distant. Winslow turned away from the Gates. “Akari, Yeren, what of our mother’s pact with the forest, what will become of it?”

  “A part of it passed to you when you received the crown,” Akari said. “The forest will remain dormant for now. Upon your return, Yeren will take you to the Treskelin to complete the necessary steps as Envald once did for your mother. All will be well then.”