by BJ Hanlon
Then Edin got a gut feeling that something bad was about to happen.
He felt time slowing and saw a man off to the right loose an arrow at them—at Arianne.
The one whom one of them called a whore.
Edin dropped the torch and an instant later, he summoned a culrian that covered their group.
Anger flooded his mind. Then as more arrows came he pushed the culrian out. It grew and the muffled sound of men yelping came from the outside. At least at first.
Then they were screaming as the glowing ethereal bubble grew. Edin closed his eyes and pressed it out and up.
He used his strength and his energy and pushed it into the solid wood wall. Then through it.
The wall cracked and then he let go of the ball. Then he looked to the churned-up soil beneath the wall.
The screams were wild and fearful.
He reached out and acted like he was scooping it in his hands. Then he ripped it apart, splitting the land and wall further into two.
The wall began to collapse. Men fell from the parapet, some over the wall, and landed on the hard earth.
Then it was the separate posts of the wall that began to tumble like a set of child’s logs.
Edin stepped forward as people and posts tumbled into the crater that he’d built. It took a few moments for it to stop and Edin saw into the fort.
Three military buildings, a training courtyard, and a few men fleeing.
Edin took his first couple of steps back into the state of his birth. The land whose residents tried to murder him and home of the ones that murdered his mother.
He ground his teeth and felt the electrical current in the air and reached out, sending a bolt of lightning into one of the smaller buildings. It was long and thin and he guessed the outhouse. It went up in flames instantly which he forced to grow larger and larger.
“I am Edin de Yaultan. Baron in the north and you are treating me as a monster!” he shouted; his voice somehow booming as men were scrambling.
A few of them were going toward a rack of weapons, others were just fleeing. One pulled a bow and shot at Edin, he saw it, felt the air and collapsed it around the arrow. With a gentle nudge the arrow zoomed off course and made a great arc around him. Then it went back toward the shooter whose eyes were wider than his mother’s china saucers.
The sniper was taken in the gut with the extra force of the wind and he went flying back and disappeared out of sight.
Another man started running at Edin with two swords. A dumb man.
Edin felt the water in the air around the man and then made it begin to cling to him and then freeze.
The man slowed and then suddenly stopped. He fell to the ground as the sheen of ice shattered to the ground. He wasn’t frozen but he could not stop shivering. His hands were blue, almost pure white in the fire.
Edin pulled his sword and moved forward. Men, their ages varied from the very young to the very old, were all around him. The pounding of the wind and the crashing of the falling wall ceased. The wood of the outhouse, the horrific miasma of the outhouse, poured from the wooden shack that crackled and burned like a stinky bonfire.
Then, from beyond one of the larger buildings, there was a creaking of wood and a horse whinnied. Pounding hooves slammed onto the ground and Edin spied the main gate open and three men on horseback fleeing out and down the road.
Others were fleeing, some into the forest behind them, others down the road after the horses. Almost no soldier was left inside the fort.
Edin stepped forward and up toward the main, large cabin. Then the door shot open and there stood a beast of a man. The flames flickered on one side of his face like he was deformed. There was a great ginger beard on his chin and he held a large sword. A greatsword. The man’s feet crunched the gravel as he came toward Edin.
“You!” he shouted. “You should be dead!” He raised the sword and then a moment later, Edin summoned a culrian around the attacker. The man swung but the strike hit the shield and bounced off. The man fell backward and landed on his backside. The shield disappeared.
Vistach seemed less shocked than Edin expected. A moment later, he spun to his knees and lashed out with a swipe at Edin’s midsection. Edin leapt back as the attack missed by a few inches. Vistach continued the motion and came to one foot and a knee. He brought the greatsword down like a normal size man does a longsword.
Anger was rolling through Edin. The type he hadn’t felt in a long time, the type he associated with loss and dealing with the ones who made him lose what he treasured.
Edin roared, a great strong roar, and he slammed the sword up with his own blade with such strength and force that Vistach fell and lost the blade. Edin hopped forward and drove a boot into Vistach’s gut.
He grunted and fell backward and landed hard on the ground while he panted and tried to catch his breath. Vistach glared and pulled something from inside his tunic.
Light glinted on the metal of a long knife. Vistach scrambled forward again and tried to stab Edin but Edin slammed his knife away and the sound reverberated through the night.
“Your son tried to kill me too,” Edin yelled stomping forward. “He failed as well, you monster!” He screamed.
“You’re the monster! Did you slay him boy!” Vistach screamed back. “Did you murder my son, you damned abomination?” Another attack and Edin deflected it. Then he reached out and felt the earth beneath Vistach’s feet.
Edin let the earth loosen like it was a deep pit of mud.
Then the big man started to sink.
A moment later, he let the ground harden again. Vistach tried to step, his foot caught and there was a tearing sound. He screamed as he fell to his face and lost his knife.
Edin moved forward, kicking the blade away, and stepped back to catch his breath.
Vistach was on his forearms staring up at Edin. Sweat percolated his brow and he stared with angry hateful eyes. The eyes of a man who’d lost much.
“Edin?” Arianne said from behind him. She moved up and put a hand on his shoulder and Edin reached over and took it and then a deep, lung filling breath.
“I’m okay,” Edin said trying to let the rage seep out. He never took his eyes off the old constable of Yaultan. Off a man he’d once loved like family.
“I looked upon you like a father for so many years and then you condemn me. You try to murder me like you murdered my mother who’d done nothing but be kind to you,” Edin growled. “Kind to you and everyone else in that blasted town. You’re a murderer, Vistach.”
“You’re a mage and a murderer! I know you or your kind killed my son while the great and noble Por Fen was tryi—”
“Berka is alive you blotard,” Edin interrupted. “We’ve traveled together for much of the last six months.”
“It’s true,” Arianne said.
“We fought together. He’s left the Por Fen and threw in his lot with a mage. With me.”
“Why would he join you? You’re an abomina—”
“He is not!” Duria cried out. “Stop using that word!”
Edin had almost forgot they were back there and a moment later he felt a crackling of electricity in the air. He was oddly surprised by her rage dispite the fact that he was barely able to suppress his own.
“I am on a quest,” Edin paused. “And he is my friend.”
There was a moment when Vistach seemed to be working out what Edin just said in his head. It was like he was trying to calculate two huge numbers. Then he said, “Quest? Quest for what?”
“To put an end to the dematian threat,” Edin said, again, he would not speak of Yio Volor rising from the underworld. Vistach said nothing so Edin continued. “I am going to Calerrat.” He lowered his sword to Vistach’s neck. “And you need to pay for what you did to Ali and Freta and Kes.” He paused to take a breath. “And my mother.”
“Edin,” Arianne gasped. “Don’t.”
He looked back at her.
“This is murder. Not justice,” she said.
Vistach did not make a move and when Edin looked back, the old constable was still on the ground with his eyes closed ready to accept the sentence.
“He killed my mother,” Edin growled, the rumbling in the back of his throat was like an earthquake in his body.
“And you killed many men,” Arianne said. “How many wives are out there mourning for husbands? How many fathers and mothers for sons or sons for their fathers?”
Edin pictured Foristol, the old man attacking him with no real conviction. Charging him with his blade held high and swiping toward Edin with no chance of hitting him. It was as if he wasn’t even trying.
The old man had just seen him slaughter many of his men. Then Edin gutted him.
Slowly, he lowered his sword. He looked at the blade, shiny and reflecting the fire on one side and dark on the other where there was not even a sliver of light.
Life and death, he thought and sheathed it.
“Vistach, you will go forth from here knowing that your life was given back to you by an abomination,” said Edin. “By a man whose mother you murdered.”
Vistach took a large gulp like he’d been in the desert and finally got a mouthful of water to quench his thirst. He did not look afraid or sad.
Edin released him from the ground and Vistach stood, leaving his knife where it lay. He bowed his head. “Edin, could I gather my things from the barracks?” He didn’t look up; he didn’t meet his eye.
“Yes.”
Vistach went into the barracks, with Edin following. It was a long building with twenty beds all lined up against one wall. Vistach went to the last one that was half hidden behind a four foot high barrier. As he was gathering up his things, Edin watched him throw stuff from his footlocker into a burlap sack. One thing was a painting done of the family. Recent, within a year, as Berka was just a few inches shorter than his dad and it looked like the youngest was able to stand on his own.
“Where are they?”
“Calerrat,” Said Vistach. “I volunteered to defend the eastern theater.”
“And dematian attacks?”
“They are dematians then…” he said trailing off. “We sent a team to destroy an entrance from the underworld a week back. There have been less demons since.”
“The one outside Calerrat?” asked Edin.
“Between here and Calerrat yes, we received a missive from the Duke of Dunbilston, he spoke of an entrance.” Vistach paused, “And wouldn’t you know it, the blotard was telling the truth.” His voice lowered, “and he helped save thousands of lives.”
Edin half smiled and looked at Arianne and the family, they were sitting on a few of the soldier’s beds. Beds that looked more comfortable than the cave floor.
Vistach stood and threw his sack over his shoulder. “You’re going to Calerrat?”
Edin nodded.
“You’ll never get in the gates. You’re an abom—” he stopped himself. “A mage.”
Edin sighed. “I’m not sure you understand the severity of the human race’s predicament. I know I’m the only hope that we have of defeating the dematians and their—” He stopped as the words coming out of his mouth reached his brain.
“Their what Edin?” Arianne asked stepping closer.
Edin took a moment, he was working on trying to find a way, something that wouldn’t freak them out as much as telling them the truth would. Then he said, “Their king. The one with the chest plate of bones.”
No one spoke for at least thirty seconds. “I will go that way as well,” Vistach said, “to Calerrat and I’m a captain in the guard.” He seemed to be waiting for something and then he said, “I can get you in. There’d be no trouble.”
Edin stared at him and a part of him, the one that had known him for seventeen years, wanted to accept. A part wanted to trust this man who’d talked to him about girls and showed him how to fish and to kick a man in the nether regions if he’s bigger than you, though no one was bigger than Vistach.
He shook his head. “He murdered my fam—” Edin started and then saw the look from Arianne, “I cannot take that chance.”
“You were okay with taking Berka up to the Northlands, you had him in chains for half of the trip,” said Arianne.
“But there were also three others who could hold him back. I can’t hold back this guy let alone any of you.”
“I could put an arrow in his arm,” said Melian, “that’d hold him back.”
“We do not need him,” said Duria. She turned to Edin, “You have letters of introduction from the Duke, do you not? You’re to be his ambassador during this,” she paused looking at Edin who gave a blank look. “What?”
Edin took a breath. “I was sent by Sinndilo but not to Calerrat,” he said, confessing somewhat but not sure how much more he should tell.
“What do you mean?”
“I was with Berka and Grent,” Edin said looking toward Arianne, “we were sent to recruit an ally. One that I believe will be needed to save the world from the coming darkness.”
“You believe? Why would Sinndilo believe you?” asked Melian.
He didn’t take his eyes off Arianne as he felt all of their eyes shift to him.
Edin swallowed and looked away.
“So, you lied to my father?” said Melian interrupting his thoughts. “You promised to get us into Calerrat.”
“I will do my best,” said Edin.
“I promise to get you in, all of you,” said Vistach. “Feracrucio and I went to the academy together many years ago.”
“Master Vistach, we welcome you,” said Arianne bowing before him. “My name is Arianne. This is Melian, Vicker, and Duria.”
“A pleasure,” he said and looked to Edin. “We should not leave at night,” Vistach said.
“I agree,” Arianne said and Edin turned and left the barracks into the deep and dark night.
There were no signs of any of the other men who’d fled; there were only bodies, but Edin started to check the grounds anyways.
Arianne came out of the barracks with a bowl of stew. Fresh meat, fresh vegetables, well at least not rotten, and potatoes. Large yellow potatoes much like the ones from Yaultan.
Edin ate quietly with Arianne next to him. He kept his eyes toward Vistach.
“What is it you’re not telling me,” she said.
He took a bite, tasted a mushy carrot and cabbage, then searched the bowl with his spoon for another bite.
There wasn’t one.
Edin started to lift the bowl to his face when Arianne placed a hand on his forearm.
“Edin,” she said quietly, “it is us. There is something you’re not telling me.”
He looked around. Vistach was in the barracks with the woman and Vicker. He felt maybe, just maybe, he could trust the old constable who’d always been fair to him.
At least until he helped murder his mother.
Edin took a breath and lowered his gaze and looked into her eyes. The gray-green eyes flickered in the firelight and seemed almost moist. “What if I told you we’re running,” whispered Edin.
“Running?” There was almost a surprise in her voice. “But you’ve got,” she started but she was rather loud and corrected herself. “You’ve got all of the talents, you’re the Ecta Mastrino. You killed a thunderwyrm and slew hundreds of dematians.”
Edin nodded but lowered his eyes. He looked out toward the silent camp. “What if I told you there’s something else coming. Something much worse.”
7
The Vista of Darkness
Arianne shook her head. “No, it is not possible. None of it, Vestor, Yio, it’s lies… or hallucinations or something else.”
Edin reached out and took her hand; she yanked it away.
“Do not,” her voice growing louder now. Scarier like she was going to start screaming or use the talent to send him flying over the walls and back into the dark forest. “Lie to me Edin!”
“I’m not,” he said. “I promise you of all things, I am not lying to yo
u.”
“You must be. There’d be no way. Losilin and Vipastio and Gorto. They’d stop him from rising. I mean this is their land. They wouldn’t just let Yio Volor, the demon from below, come up and steal it from them.” She started shaking her head.
“I do not know,” said Edin, “but I did see him.”
“In a vision, a dream, it wasn’t real.”
“I saw you too, you were running through that underground dwarven city. You were fleeing from dematians and draugrs carrying an old knife. Then you were leaping on the raft and shooting arrows back over your shoulder.” He offered a smile and took her hand again. “You were a warrior princess, like in the stories.”
She pulled away and looked puzzled for a moment. “You’re running from him.”
Edin nodded.
Arianne stood and started to walk away. Edin stood to follow but she raised a hand not even looking. “I need some time to think.”
Edin sat back down on the small bench he’d been on. He left the bowl of stew next to it and stared across the yard into the dark. They weren’t secure here, not with the wall on the eastern front destroyed.
After stemming the demons by finding the underground entrance, Edin just took two steps back and made it easier for the beasts to get into Resholt.
Could they possibly make it to Calerrat without any more trouble? If so, then what… then where?
Maybe Yio’s evil only covered Bestoria. Maybe after that, it was clear blue skies and turquoise waters like in the drawings he’d seen in books.
Edin laid down and stared up at the blank sky. The flames from the outhouse were nearly gone and he was in near pitch darkness and the smell, while still awful, had mostly been whisked away by the wind or the flames.
He pulled out the small Callto stone and looked at it, or tried to; it was nearly impossible to see. He twisted it in his hand and spun it around. He gripped it in his palm and squeezed, feeling the rough edges dig into his skin.
He thought of his father then he thought of Le Fie and Grent. Then he closed his eyes and tried to picture them. One at a time, he tried to summon them. He pictured Dorset, he concentrated on his face, his features, the way he looked in the morning when he’d woken when they were roommates in the Reaches. Then he whispered his friend’s name.