by BJ Hanlon
It was a cold rain, an autumn rain, when the earth seemed to be shutting down and the trees were letting loose their dressing to get ready for the long sleep of winter.
Only this time, it was the end of an age, Edin thought.
Just then, lightning lit up the eastern sky and he saw waves. Great waves that even from this height, looked to be twenty to thirty feet tall. At a glance, he thought there was something among those waves, a great whale, he thought. Then he spotted another, both of them breaching. From their backs came sprouts of water that exploded up into the air, higher than the waves.
Then it was dark again. He stepped forward then as the water raced down and crashed onto the lower cuffs of his pants and then his knees and his groin and his hips. He let his arms out to the sides and stepped forward again. Edin closed his eyes as the cold rain hit his stomach and chest and then shoulders and arms before his face and hair were soaked.
Edin shivered. But it was just water, water he could control and this was his world. The above world and one that he didn’t want to see gone. More thunder exploded around him and he saw the light behind his closed eyelids.
There was a strength in that thunder, in that boom and the lightning that followed. It wasn’t the same as the thunderwyrm or even his own talent. This was raw, it was natural and it was how the world should be.
Edin stepped forward again. He was completely soaked and he steeled his jaw to keep from shivering. Then his front foot touched the spindle of the deck’s railing and he stood there. He leaned his hips into the rail and lowered his palms to it.
Edin took a deep breath and opened his eyes to see the blackness all before. A blackness that was unending like the flames that would forever burn in Olangia.
They would burn, unless they were snuffed out. Unless someone went down into the old dwarven city and blew them all out.
What about this darkness?
Edin wanted to use the talent over the wind and blow it all away, push it like Arianne had that storm over Erastio’s Rise as the Por Fen were attacking. He could picture them attempting it, both together maybe. They could be standing on this deck and using their combined talent to blow this darkness out to sea.
A smile crossed his lips as the rain continued to pelt him.
But he knew it wasn’t to be. Yio Volor was coming and the darkness was his.
Edin swallowed as the lightning burst forth and lit up the world. Where he was looking, was near a large island of jagged rocks and Edin thought he could see remains of a shipwreck.
Eventually, he went beneath the pergola, completely soaked from the rain and shivering but he was a water mage and he whisked away the wet and stepped into the doorway to the dark and dry great room.
Edin sighed.
In the corner of the room, he saw a light flaring. The small flame of a pipe as it lit up a man’s face, though not enough to actually see who’s face it was.
Edin stood where he was and stared. The cool air still struck his back and the howling wind, the crashing waves and the thunder all chattered behind him like the forces of earth were trying to have a conversation where everyone screams at everyone else with the only goal being who is the loudest.
The person inhaled again, the embers in the pipe glowing more orange and then there was a great exhale of smoke. It was white and for a moment, he saw it, like a ghost floating above the man’s head.
Edin said nothing and then he heard a creaking board off to his right. Near the front entrance. Edin looked that way and saw a flash of something coming toward him.
Edin leapt back as a blade cut the air where he’d been standing a moment before. He felt a soft dampening of the talent and stepped back outside. Barefoot and unarmed.
A wooden chair scraped across the floor and the pipe’s glow went out. Edin backed up, he felt the water begin again to attack his pants and his feet. The water had grown colder in those brief moments as if the rain ran over ice just before it came down.
There was another crash of thunder and lightning, almost directly above them. It lit up the faces.
It was two of the men from earlier. They wore expressions on their faces that were calm but intense. Both had swords and they moved quickly and quietly out the door, one after the other and then stepped out onto the deck.
Edin was about ten feet from the two of them and remembered there’d been three around the table earlier. Where was the third? Was he around? Was he sneaking up on Edin?
He didn’t have time to look. He knew if he looked away, they’d attack and maybe they’d be able to make that distance in the blink of an eye, maybe not.
Edin began to put his weight on his back leg and slipped into serpent stance. He had no weapons and they knew it. They also thought that he was unarmed and without the talent due to their wan stone.
That was their mistake.
But they didn’t talk. They didn’t attack, at least for that moment as the water rushed onto his head and ran through his hair and into his eyes. Edin shuffled backward, further into the rain and past the covered pergola. He felt the railing at his back and watched. Slowly, they began to move forward, they stepped away from each other, quietly. There was no talking, no communication between the two, and Edin watched the way they moved. A heel, then toe as they slid over. It was like a crillio padding through the forest. They each held one blade, one who was bigger held a blade a bit longer than Mirage, the other, smaller one, maybe five and a half feet tall carried a long knife. Both men held their weapons steadily and assuredly in one hand while the other hand was reaching forward as if they were feeling for something.
Edin had a sense that they were dangerous men, hunters certainly and not only that, ones that hunted other men. Other dangerous men like magi.
He watched the twitch of an eye on one of the men and the fingers of the other flitter up and down on the hilt of his sword like he was playing a flute.
Then they moved fast as Grent and as sure-footed. Edin sprang to the right, and dove. He rolled and there was a loud explosion as a part of the rail burst into slivers. He came back to his feet and faced the men who now faced him from beside the partially destroyed rail.
Then he felt a slight pain. Or maybe it was worse. A burning sensation in his side. There was a warmth then, going down his ribs. He saw in the lightning the gleeful looks on the men’s faces.
The light, barely even a speckle, gave them a haunted, demonic look.
Edin glanced down. He saw the blood and felt the cut. The pain stung but he pushed it down. More lightning crashed and lit up the entirety of the deck. It was large, at least fifty feet across, the entire length of the inn and he saw that there were things stacked up against the inn’s outer wall.
Tables and chairs and umbrellas for people to enjoy the beauty of the deck when there was the actual ability to enjoy it.
Edin took a few steps that way and he heard their movements, quick and fast on the deck. He felt the air around them, around him. He felt the movement through the air at about shoulder height.
Edin ducked and then the blade whooshed over his head. Then there was a bursting, a stabbing in his chest. Edin twisted quickly. The sword caught and dug into his upper chest. He felt his collarbone snapping. Edin saw white and darkness flashing somehow before his eyes.
Then, clarity returned. The burning pain was suppressed for just a moment as Edin knocked the man’s sword arm and flung it into the air. The man tried to resist and though a terrin, Edin was stronger.
Edin screamed, felt the talent within him and, though suppressed, he let the small ethereal blade form in his palm as he drove it into the man’s chest.
The man howled and fell back, his sword flying off somewhere into the darkness. Edin continued the fall and felt the wind tell him of another downward strike. He rolled off the body and then saw it flash in the brief lightning.
It dug into the already dying attacker’s chest with such ferocity that the chest caved in.
Edin scrambled on his hands and kne
es down the side of the deck, following the railing then he was at the wall and the tables and chairs. He needed something to fight back with, just the little fighting off of the wan stone’s suppressive powers made him exhausted. He reached out and grabbed a metal chair. Forged steel and heavy.
Then he spun around as the sword came down onto it. There was a spark as the blade crashed into one of the metal beams. Edin slammed out a foot and it caught the man in the gut. He doubled over and then stumbled back. The suppression was still there, but he could feel the wind and he was growing tired. He reached out and felt for a giant gust. The largest he could find.
It whipped around the house, gathering momentum.
Edin added to the momentum. He reached out and the tornado-like force hit the standing terrin in the face and flipped him up and into the sky and far out and over the edge of the railing.
The man’s screams were lost in the storm and Edin fell to his knees. He was tired, so tired, and he wanted to sleep, possibly forever.
Lightning crashed and he saw the man dropping into the sea about a hundred yards away. Then, in the dim firelight of the sconces, he saw the large river of diluted blood that was pouring from him into the cracks of the deck and dripping out of sight. He blinked slowly. Then looked up and saw the body of the first one and the broken railing.
Ploveliane would not be happy, neither would Vistach, but that wasn’t his concern at the moment. Currently, he just didn’t want to bleed out.
Edin stood very unsteadily and slid back toward the door. He needed Arianne. She’d heal him. He pressed his hand to his side as the warm blood leaked out.
His shoulder bled too and as he reached the door, he saw the lightning strike and the third man standing in the room. Wicked looking knives were in each hand and he was scowling.
Edin took a step back and fell as one of the blade’s caught him in the stomach. He dropped back and screamed as he clattered to the hard wood deck, now covered in rain and blood.
Then there was a flash and the man was standing over him, blood dripped from his knife and he stared down at Edin like a wraith from the depths of the underworld.
This was it, Edin thought, no more running from Yio Volor. All of those plans to hide and live as long as possible were for naught. He failed her again. Like he had when she’d fallen.
But then there was a creaking sound and the man turned his head back. Then the head was gone in an instant and the body dropped. Edin looked up and saw a giant, red-headed swordsman standing above him.
“Berka,” he gasped, “find Aria.” His eyes closed.
There were days where he was in and out of consciousness. Multiple days and when he finally woke, it was dark and they were sitting around a campfire, Arianne next to him ladling some broth into his mouth. He saw her and she smiled. Edin had a sense of déjà vu. He was certain they’d been in this position before.
“Hi,” Edin said and closed his eyes again. The warmth of the fire was near his side and he felt himself drifting off again.
“Edin, do not sleep,” she said, “not yet.”
Edin blinked open his eyes and saw her again and heard voices around him. Voices he didn’t quite recognize. Then he saw a face at the side of his vision. A burley man with a great beard that seemed to cover half his face. Like he was actually some sort of wild beast-man hybrid.
He could only see eyes and the nose. The man was looking over at them for a moment, then he stood and started off in the direction Edin’s head lay.
He had no idea where the man was going or what they were doing here but he didn’t care at the moment.
“Vicker?” Edin croaked out, “Duria, Melian?”
“We’re here,” Melian’s voice called from across the fire. “Everyone is fine.”
“Where are we?”
“In a camp,” Arianne whispered, “with soldiers, only a dozen or so sent from the city to shore up a fort to the north of us.” She paused for a moment, “it was a fort that was attacked by the same magi that you and Vistach fought at Pointe Vista.”
Edin felt confused so he said nothing. Then the fight came back, the attack on him by the three hunters. He remembered being skewered, stabbed in the gut, and his collarbone being broken.
Under the broth, he tasted the remnants of mintweed tea as well.
“How is my body?”
“Scarred, torn up, and honestly monstrous.” said Arianne hinting with a bit of a smile. Then she sobered up and dropped the sarcasm. “You’ve added a couple more scars and your collarbone is still healing.”
He reached for his gut and started to lift the blanket. There was a tweak of pain in his collar, but it was bearable. He wanted to see the gut but quickly Arianne slapped his hand down.
“Do not show that wound, Edin,” Arianne hissed. “It is fatal to anyone who doesn’t have someone like me around.”
“It is why I keep you,” he said and smiled.
“And I’m only around for the excitement. You’re a real pain and a blotard.”
“Do you two always act like this?” asked Melian, but Edin and Arianne were both smiling now. And then Edin got the feeling that she was no longer mad at him, though the reason why she’d been mad in the first place didn’t come to him. He thought about it for a moment and then both of their smiles faded.
“I cannot do it,” Edin said looking at her. “I cannot sa—” she put a finger to his lips and silenced him. Then she lowered her head and kissed him.
“We can talk later,” she said and then she looked up to approaching feet.
Edin saw Vistach approaching with two men. “You see, this is our hero, he slayed the magi.”
They looked at Edin uneasily and then back at Vistach who stood behind them. There were unspoken words and Edin wasn’t sure what was being said but it was as if they were agreeing to some deal.
“Go on to Ploveliane’s place,” said Vistach then shore up the fort. “Keep runners on hand at all times and try to set fires in and around the forest. We cannot let magi or demons surprise us again. We must be prepared.”
“We will set out in the morning,” said one of the men and Vistach nodded. The two men looked down at Edin, their jaws were set and Edin was almost positive he recognized one from the fort a few days previous though he couldn’t be sure.
Then Vistach moved over to the fire and put his hands over the flames. “It is a cold night,” he said before rubbing them together and then a few moments later, leaving without another word.
Edin laid his head back and looked up into the blackness beyond the firelight. There was nothing up there. No moon, no stars; no gods, no heaven. It was as if they all had been wiped away. Scrubbed or killed, buried or willed out of existence by some evil.
Edin reached out and touched his gut. He still felt the sting of the blade, he remembered it piercing his body and the blood and the feeling of losing everything, of dying without saving Arianne, without running away.
The feeling of failing.
He felt Arianne’s hand on his chest. Edin reached up and squeezed it. He wasn’t sure how, but he was going to fight. He had to fight and either he or Yio Volor were going to die.
8
The Capitol
They began again the next day. There was a wagon, two wheeled, that was used for carrying loads to and from the closest village market for Ploveliane. She’d apparently sold it and an old mule, quite a bit like Gary, to them to carry Edin. He didn’t ask about damage or the bodies but Arianne hinted that they’d been thrown over the rail. A rail that was to be fixed soon and with monies that Arianne had provided courtesy of a group of thieves.
Edin walked now, very gingerly. His arm was still in a sling and his gut pinched and burned when he turned too fast.
But it was better than riding. He’d been riding for three days now, three very slow days of hiking apparently, but today was to be their last. Today, they’d arrive at Calerrat.
Edin wondered what it would look like. Wondered the dress of the people,
wondered about the drink and the food and the culture.
He never did take the long rafting trip from Yaultan to here, but he was finally coming to the big city. To a place he’d always wanted to visit and maybe even to live one day.
He thought of seeing the Citadel.
A place in his childhood dreams of mysterious and overwhelming power. There was also the Prince’s castle that was said to make the Duke’s palace look like a shepherd’s outhouse and there was the university tower that rose to a height that was just shy of that of the castle spires. It had to be magnificent.
He wondered about other nobles’ estates. Some nobles, not him of course, had multiple homes. One in their principality and one in Calerrat. Certain folk also had summer villas on the Halecon Lake.
He wondered about the truth of the stories that had been told of this place; about the noble knights and soldiers who’d lived by honor and a code of ethics. Of the women who’d throw offerings to men as they rode off to battle and then threw themselves back upon the heroes when they returned home triumphant.
“I’m not sure I’ll recognize it,” said Arianne quietly walking next to him.
He thought of grand carriages, ones fit for queens or kings, for Arianne, rolling down these roads in times past. He thought of the banners that were said to wave when there where tournaments where champions and knights would fight each other for glory or the hand of a fair maiden.
At least those were stories. He hadn’t heard of any tournaments like that in years. Maybe they were only in the fictional tomes he’d read as a child. Maybe they were only in his memories.
But he did not want them to fade. Not now, not ever.
They were behind the cart now and every once in a while, they had to leap large piles of poo dropping from the donkey. He didn’t even give a warning; it just fell out and splattered.