Heart of the Maiden: (Lords of the Deep Hells Book 3)

by Paul Yoder

  She placed a hand on Yozo’s brow, bowing her head and dipped into the wells of aether her ring provided. A rush of air gently ruffled Yozo’s tattered burnt clothes and hair, his skin healed over within moments.

  She released her gentle glowing hands from him, Yozo shaking awake, looking to see Fin and Reza looking down on him.

  “Your face,” Fin noted, smiling to see the man’s deformities gone, his bone structure returned to how it was the first time he had met the man.

  “You alright?” Fin asked, helping Yozo to his feet.

  Yozo looked to Reza, assuming she had put an end to Sha’oul for good, seeing the rift now closed, then looked to Fin and replied, “I left Revna, Jez, and Alva to come with you to help Reza. They still need us.”

  The two looked down the hill, through the broken streets and building husks to the quickly dying battle to the south, seeing the ranks of Captain Durmont that likely the sarens still fought alongside.

  “Reza,” Fin said, turning back for a moment, smiling and saying, “Good to see you,” before rushing off with Yozo down the hill, slashing through idle dead that seemed to have lost the motivation to fight back.

  “Reza, over here!” Kissa called, the haltia placing a slumbering Terra down beside Cavok’s heavy frame, Jasper also there who was propped up against the wall.

  “They need help,” she said, checking each for vitals.

  Reza made her way over to the group, slowing as she saw Kissa bow her head when she got to Jasper, the trauma from the battle proving too much for him to withstand, his chest collapsed and badly burned.

  Reza kneeled between Terra and Cavok along the cool night sand. The large man was unconscious, fried from the lightning jolt, bleeding freely from the cuts Nomad have given him.

  She laid a hand upon them both, giving what she could from the ring’s essence, rejuvenating their life force back to homeostasis.

  Cavok breathed in deep, his wounds looking mostly healed up, though he remained slumbering.

  Terra roused, sleepily opening her eyes for a moment, trying to sit up as Reza advised her to rest where she was, calling Kissa over to help tend to the two.

  “Stay with them,” she entreated as she looked out along the platform’s base. There was one other she needed to find.

  She looked to the Hyperium pressing the failing line of dead back to the walls as they connected with what was left of Saadir’s riders, the tides of war now vastly favoring the living since the arrival of the Plainstate reinforcements and the fall of Sha’oul.

  She stood, stumbling through the rubble along the edge of the platform, looking for Nomad that had been by Sha’oul’s side until Cavok had intercepted him. She had not seen what became of him after that.

  She scrambled around the base of the platform, searching for her old friend, the image of his burning red eyes flashing in her mind as she stumbled over rubble piles.

  Her eyes fell upon a lone figure in the sand, dark shrouds covering the broken body, a backdrop of dead soldiers and arisen underpinning a stillness of death as she rushed over to identify the figure.

  She turned the figure over and uncovered the shroud from his face.

  It was Nomad…emaciated and withered, as though the corrupt black blood that had been within him all those months had, upon its departure from his body, left him a husk of his former self.

  “Hiro!” she cried, cradling his withered frame, his head lolling sickly to the side, the surrounding area clear of friend or foe as Reza sobbed freely over her companion.

  She brushed the man’s crow-black hair, weeping over him, her tears falling upon his mummified skull-tight skin, his withered features a clear indication of his finite fate.

  She placed a hand upon his chest, and her hand began to glow.

  His frame…was empty. The beautifully unique weave of aether that once clearly marked his scent and trail as the one they had come to know as Nomad, was not there.

  He was dead. She was too late to catch him.

  She opened her eyes, looking down on him blankly in silence for a moment, then held a hand to his chest once more, reinitiating her connection with his body.

  Her ring flared to life, green flames licking along her hand as they mixed with the white glow of her healing powers, engulfing Nomad’s body.

  She dove further in.

  The more she transferred herself into him, the more she became aware of a trace of something. The faintest flow of hexweave, a path that led to some other place, to some other state of being.

  The green flame engulfed the two figures, igniting in a pyre of flame. Both bodies glowed a strange flickering of white and green as the winds picked up, spiraling up into the night’s sky.

  Reza was no longer aware of the surroundings she once inhabited. She was on a journey, adrift amidst the astral realm, recalling the strange feeling that she had been there once before, also with Nomad, upon the steps of a great transition, the place of eternity, both the beginning of all things, and the end of all things.

  “Nomad,” she spoke through her thoughts, the waves of her consciousness rippling the same word out through the expanse.

  There was silence amidst the void. She had lost his trail. She floated now, slowing—an empty, lonely depression lingering near.

  “Hiro,” she whispered, her hope dwindling as she floated along the endless stretch in silence, no ripples of company bouncing back her way.

  “I…” the faint thought struck her, awakening her senses. “…remember…you,” a familiar presence spoke, coming into focus, a stillness and peace resting over the both of them.

  Her spirit shivered with elation at the long-awaited answer. She reached out to him, stretching for his essence.

  As they touched, they merged, their souls sharing a connection that would have been impossible to relay through the rudimentary methods in their bodies back in the physical realm of Una.

  They danced there for a duration without time, as simple aether in the expanse, basic structures of energy, similar to infinite others before and after them, but impossibly unique at the same time.

  The white-green flames slowly died away, her ring, once glowing a verdant green, crumbling to ash, falling away from her finger.

  Nomad’s body, before a husk, now was revitalized, restored to his previous state.

  He sat up, looking ahead, acquiring where he was, making no sense of it, then looked to Reza, still with a look of slight confusion in his eyes, not quite understanding the situation.

  “Hiro,” Reza whispered, taking his head gently in her hands.

  He reflected upon the title for a moment, slowly nodding his head, agreeing with the name.

  “It has…been a long time since I was that man, Reza Malay,” he said, a distant look in his eyes which still seemed to be attempting to adjust from his wanderings along the fields of the eternities.

  She jarred him from his reflections, enveloping him in a hug, both tipping over in the sands as she squeezed him tight almost in disbelief that he laid there whole before her after so many long months of fretting over the man’s soul, so many times giving up hope in ever being able to see his melancholy smile or distant reflective eyes ever again.

  Yet there he was. She had searched his body and soul for the taint of Telenth, and she had found no trace of his inky corruption. Nomad had been purged by the light.

  The two looked out over the remaining pockets of combat along the battlefield. The arisen were all but put down at that point, none seeming to know what to do without the constant drone of hate and command from their dispatched puppeteer.

  The sounds of battle slowly came to an end, replaced by cheers and victory cries from all around the ruins. The night had been won, and relief was in the air for those still living, having endured a night of hell none had lived through before.

  The arisen had been put down. The long season of necromancy that had been such a blight upon the region, finally put to rest with the last arisen being slashed in half by the uni
ted peoples of the Southern Sands.

  44

  A Renewed Peoples

  “Fort Wellspring has not had this many visitors in quite some time,” Captain Durmont said as he looked over the leaders in his command room, wearing a melancholy smile.

  “We all lost many men last night. I have been briefed by various sources on the Plainstate’s attempt to reach out and aid in unifying a defense against the threat. It seems the judges that sit upon their thrones in the capital refused their kind offers and even harassed them on the trail home.

  “That they continued to chase the arisen threat is noteworthy, and as you return to report of the happenings in the Ruins of Solstice, Captain Saadir, Captain Sakar, I would hope you give our neighbors proper respect in telling of their true motives and bravery upon the battlefield. Without their support, our people would have been slaughtered, every one of us.”

  Both leaders of the Rochata-Ung infantry and cavalry divisions gave a curt nod, allowing Captain Durmont to continue his war debriefing with all leaders of every unit involved in the battle that had just taken place northeast of the fort the previous night.

  Field medics and the resident surgeon of the fort were busy helping those they could as hundreds of wounded cycled in and out of the expanded medical bay in the courtyard, many of the healthy soldiers helping where they could to move the injured in and out of the operation room, helping to bed them in the barracks for rest and recovery.

  “General Bannon, Primus Hathos, both of you have wounded in our medical bay. You are welcome to leave a detachment behind to oversee them and help them return home once they’re ready for travel. We have many open bunks now, unfortunately. The room is available to house them for as long as necessary. They will be safe here.”

  Bannon bowed, accepting the generous offer, pleased to have finally found a Tarigannie leader he had respect for and that showed them even the least bit of willingness to work together.

  “We have thirty soldiers critically wounded and unfit for the road back to Sheaf. Your offer is very generous. I’ll leave an additional ten with them to help with preparations and care. If you can house forty of my people, then we will proceed as such,” Bannon said, speaking for both his company and Hathos’ Hyperium.

  “That is fine,” Durmont agreed, adding, “The same hospitality is extended to your men, Captain Saadir, Sakar.”

  “Indeed,” the Captain of Horse promptly affirmed. “There are a few men that we will leave behind in hopes of a recovery. Most will come back with us to Rochata-Ung. It is not that difficult of a ride.”

  “Scars, see that the militia men from Gunnison are paid from the treasury for their service,” Durmont noted to the auxiliary officer.

  “A special commendation to Revna and her company. Without them, we would have been caught off guard to this threat. Yozo, Jezebel, Alva, and Revna—you are welcome at my fort as long as I remain captain. You risked much in coming to us and fought by our side in battle. You have my thanks,” he said, Revna and the rest bowing in thanks to the recognition of their efforts.

  “I also understand that it was by your company and efforts, Reza Malay and Terra of Hagoth, that Sha’oul, the arisen’s warlord, was put down. There is no one here that could thank you enough for your valiant contributions in this war. It is my understanding that it was you who helped stop his uprising in Brigganden a year ago as well. Your name and deeds shall be noted in Tarigannie’s records. I will personally see to this,” Durmont reverently said, bowing his head in honor of the two.

  “Here, here,” Hathos said, clapping for the two, smiling, a rare sight to be sure, causing Bannon, Revna, and the rest to join in the applause in respect to the two women who, without their help in the fight against Telenth’s avatar, the outcome of the battle would have been drastically different for the worse.

  Both looked uncomfortable accepting the cheers, seeming relieved when Durmont continued with his debrief.

  “Kaylic will see to any supplies each of your companies require before your journeys home. Once again, we thank you for heeding our call to arms to defend our homelands.

  “Tell the judges to expect my presence in the following days where I’ll personally deliver my report of the recent events,” he said to Saadir, his demeanor showing his displeasure of the judges’ latest display of conduct.

  Even though the man ranked beside him, he knew of his favor amongst the ruling class of the capital. He had no doubt if the judges could be chastised by anyone, it would be the captain of the fort, holding sway with not only the aristocrats in the capital, but with all the southern towns and countryside of the region. He was, in many ways, seen as the people’s general, even though he ranked only as a captain.

  “I will,” Saadir said.

  With that, Durmont thanked all for gathering, and wished everyone safe travels on the road, the room letting out as each leader dispersed to give orders to their officers in preparations for moving out.

  “Reza,” Revna said, catching up to her as she was one of the first to escape the crowded room.

  Reza turned, looking to the three saren who came up to her, each wearing a comforting smile.

  “In the past, not many talked kindly of you in the monastery,” the priestess admitted, guilt showing through her timidness with the statement. “But we have seen your strength and connection with Sareth. I know she has her eye upon you; and—I know Lanereth would be proud of what you have accomplished.

  “Please come visit us in Jeenyre sometime soon. There are so many empty seats now at the table. It will be a lonely rebuilding without you. I promise to keep the old guard’s tongues in check. They don’t mean ill, it’s just, your strong-headed spirit rubbed them the wrong way when you were with us.”

  “I…,” Reza paused, mixed emotions of the monastery causing her to hesitate with her response, “…will consider it. At the least, I need to pay my respects to Lanereth. She…was important to me.”

  Revna did not want to press the point further, and seeing Yozo talking with Fin in the courtyard, she called them over.

  “You’re both welcome at the Jeenyre Monastery any time as well. You fought by many saren’s sides during this war, and Sareth will remember your deeds. I will make sure that both your names are added to the records of allies. If you should ever need the aid of the saren, we will do what we can on your behalf.”

  Fin and Yozo both bowed, Fin with a big smile on his face, looking gloatingly to Reza, while Yozo could not look more stoic, putting much weight on the honors.

  “Fin…” Reza warned, causing the man to harmlessly bring his hands up in defense as if to ask what he did wrong.

  “Yozo,” she said, looking to the man. “You have had grudges and troubles with my allies in the past. I need to know that we can trust you in our company. Both Cavok and Nomad are with us in our camp outside the fort walls. I need your word that as long as you stay nearby that we will not have further issues with your grudges with them.”

  The man looked her directly in the eyes, answering without hesitation. “I have put my path of vengeance behind me. I can agree to your terms, on my word.”

  For a moment, his mannerisms and intensity reminded her of Nomad, and for the first time since meeting him, her intuition of the man was that he was indeed no longer a threat to her friends.

  “Watch yourself around Cavok,” she warned, knowing the large man had a bit of a grudge himself towards the foreigner.

  “Speaking of our indomitable warrior, it’s been too long. We’re overdue for a drink together. I need to catch up on what became of him these past few months,” Fin said, bowing out of the circle, heading out of the fort to the camp Reza’s company stayed at.

  “You are heading back to the monastery now?” Reza questioned Revna, curious to know their timeline.

  “Yes. It is a long ride, and a report to the High Order is needed. The sooner, the better I should think. Please visit, Reza. Within the season would be nice. I should like further details on t
he part you had in all this, and it would be good to talk,” the priestess replied, holding Reza’s hand lightly before looking to Alva and Jezebel who had already rounded up their horses and supplies for the road.

  “I will. I promise,” Reza agreed, giving the surprised priestess a quick hug, seeing the three out of the open gate as they rode off along the road to Sansabar.

  “What are your plans now?” Reza asked Yozo as he was walking away from the gathering.

  He stopped, considering the question, answering, “I don’t know,” pausing as he thought through his options. “I might ask Fin what he suggests. I have grown to…appreciate his advice. The man is very wise—much like Matt was. He has guided me in a positive direction thus far.”

  Reza held back a chuckle at the thought of Fin being wise. He had always been an airy jokester in her eyes, not necessarily a fount of wisdom.

  “Reza,” Terra called in her gentle voice, shyly nodding to Yozo as she greeted the two, her amulet she wore about her neck lightly glowing the way she had remembered it had around Bede’s neck during her last days.

  “You know what that means?” Reza asked, nodding to the glowing amulet.

  “I do,” Terra softly said, coming to Reza’s side, away from Yozo, which she still remained tentative around, remembering his foul demeanor back in Sheaf.

  “It means you are a saint. Elendium has graced you with his power, as he had done with Bede in her final days upon Una,” Reza said to the girl, a bit of pride in her voice for the young lady’s position.

  “To attain sainthood in this life is to assure a place in Elendium’s favor for all eternity. Make sure you walk upright and remain worthy of that calling,” Reza added, patting her on the back.

  “I will,” the girl confirmed, a bit of confidence entering her voice as the three slowly made their way out of the gates, the Tarigannie sun beginning to set upon the busy fort.

  There was a sense of thankfulness blanketing the fort that housed the many peoples from various lands, all grateful for being alive after such horrors of war. There was also a bittersweetness in the air—all those that survived holding in reverence those that they had lost in the fight against the evil dead.