Fallen Sepulchre

by J D Franx

  “Wait,” Shasta interjected. “You can't be serious. You were with Ella this whole time?”

  “Pretty sure that's what happened, young one. Yes,” Cass said.

  “Good enough for now.” Dominique snorted, dragging Cassel in for a hug. “Ha! Welcome back, my brother! Gods-damned good to see you. Now, let's find you a ship. It seems several of Bauro's need a new captain, and we still have an escort and protection run to make. I have to keep my word before I kill that bastard Sythrnax.”

  “Yeah?” Cassel asked, grinning. “Business as usual then, even with these new improvements.”

  “Far from it, old friend. It seems the Ancients have returned to Talohna, and they want us to take them home. Then, we’re gonna kill one of their generals and start a war with the rest. A war so big Tyr will weep with envy.”

  “No shit? Why?”

  “Their general killed a brother of ours, one who held my kreeda, an offer for saving my daughter’s life.”

  “Guess that's what I get for sleeping for a decade. You have my sword and sail always, you know that. Any chance you know where Yrlissa and my little girl are? Hack told me Bauro tried to kill her, that my death fell at her feet. Why, Dom?”

  “I know not what happened to your young one, but you know how it works. From our side, you were cut down during Blade internal business. Merethyl Bellas paid the gold-weight, but Bauro wanted a point made. Yrlissa is still alive, though. I saw her myself months ago. The Broken Blades believe she is dead. Bauro ordered all Suns to keep the knowledge she’s alive as a secret. I agreed. But you're not dead, brother. So, we get this job out of the way, and you can take a couple ships to find her. I will sail at your side until we do. You have my word. Besides, starting a war takes time.” He laughed.

  Cassel nodded. “We're taking these Ancients home before we start a Kreeda-war with them, then? You know what that means?”

  “I do,” Dominique answered, his voice dropping. “Before we call in our oaths, we're going back through the Jaws of Ice and Rock, and this time we have to make it to land.”

  “We barely made it out alive last time, Dom. We lost four ships and over thirty men. Three were wizards!”

  “I know, but this time we'll have cannons to help with the wildlife, and we’ll have Ancient wizards commanding the decks.”

  Dominique chuckled a second time as he stared at his previous first mate and closest friend.

  “Well,” Cassel stated, “we didn't choose this life to live forever or to grow fat from merchant gold, did we?”

  Dominique shook his head and lifted his arm, pointing at his flag man. “We did not, we do it—”

  “Because we can.” Dominique, Cass, and Shasta said in unison as they laughed.

  “Wrap the other ships up, Shasta,” Dominique ordered. “Let’s head back to Arkum Zul. We have special arrangements to make.”

  Chapter Four

  ‘In one and the same fire, clay grows hard and wax melts.’ Francis Bacon

  “An English philosopher from the sixteenth century by the name of Francis Bacon once said that. I remember reading about him in school, and this quote can be applied to almost any situation involving the changes of life and death. With what has happened to us, to Kael, and to our group, I think this quote applies more now than ever before. The fire that is our life can either melt us or harden us depending on our own resolve and strength of will. Kael refused to melt under the torrential firestorm that was his last year of life and he will always be an inspiration to me. Very few people could have experienced what he did and still pushed forward every single day, but he did. Even after all that he suffered and all that was taken from him, Kael forced himself to keep moving forward, to keep helping those whom he did not know, and to keep living. The only way to do this was to harden himself. I know this, so how can we not do the same? We have to follow his example and rise from the fires of loss harder and stronger. We will do the same and we will live on.”

  Ember Symes, Kael’s Eulogy.

  Field of the Fallen, Dyrannai Forest

  DYRANNAI FOREST

  THE ANCIENT KINGDOM

  Kael had been laid to rest, and the preservation spells cast by Yrlissa completed. The moment she finished, a lone Luhnee warrior walked out from the forest carrying a clear sarcophagus lid to place on Kael's tomb. It was meant to protect his body further. The young man, a Druid, entered the crypt and placed the cover himself before nodding to Yrlissa and bowing to Ember.

  "My people have guarded his kind for a score of millennia. The other half of your heart will always be safe here. By my word, and that of the goddess, you will always be welcome in this holy place. As your kind have always been." With a final nod to Yrlissa, he left and vanished into the forest.

  Ember returned to the fire and sat down to share the evening meal with the others, but she was not in the mood to eat. Instead she glared at Yrlissa for several seconds, nervously spinning the broken vial through her fingers.

  "Enough of this shit,” she said, staring at Yrlissa. “You have some explaining to do. You know a lot more about what's happening here. I heard what you told Max and the others. You will elaborate further now. No more secrets, and no more lies. Those are the actions of a Vohkra," Ember snapped, purposely using the Dyrannai Elvehn term for traitor. “Those aren’t the actions of a friend.”

  "Call me what you will, mai nahlla."

  Ember held up her hand, interrupting Yrlissa. "Never call me that again. Ever," she said. The low growl in her voice made the implication of violence clear. "You demean yourself and insult me at the same time. Now, tell me the goddamn truth."

  "The truth?" Yrlissa asked. She turned to the fire and stared into the flames as if in a trance. "All right. But the truth will only make things worse."

  "Kael is dead, so I doubt that. But I’ll decide for myself. You owe me," Ember told her, shaking with anger.

  "I owe you more than you will ever know, mai... Ember. What do you want to know?" Yrlissa sighed.

  Ember did not know where to begin, and the silence opened the door for DormaSai’s king. Nekrosa sat quietly with Sephi cuddled into his arms. He said nothing while Ember pushed Yrlissa for answers about the horrific events of the last couple of days. A frown curled his brow as he straightened, and Sephi slid over to give him room to stretch his bad leg.

  "The Ri'Tek,” he interjected. “Start with them. The Arcane Library in DormaSai has nothing on them."

  Yrlissa nodded. "The Ri'Tek? I guess it's as good a place as any. What came before that matters little anyway. The Ri'Tek are the second of Talohna's original two races. They truly are the Ancients. They had incredible magic at one time. It was powerful, amazing, and unrivaled even among the other races. All you have to do is look at all the wonders across Talohna to know what they were capable of.”

  “Were?” Sephi repeated.

  “Yes,” Yrlissa said, carrying on. “The Ri'Tek are not like us. Their emotions and morals are far different than ours. Although, I don't believe evil is a word that qualifies to describe them. They don't act out of malice or to purposely be sadistic. They just do the things they do to achieve their objectives. Their natural magic was stripped from them long ago by gods aeons older than ours are now. Even though they could do some amazing things with magic, the Ri'Tek soon grew tired of building wondrous cities and artifacts. They thrived on challenges and perfection. So, instead of continuing to create wonders for this world, they shifted their focus: to emulate their gods. By using magic, the Ri'Tek attempted to create new life. They worshiped the Old Gods and wanted to be like them in every way.”

  “That's frightening,” Sephi commented. “The arrogance...”

  “Exactly,” Yrlissa said. “They quickly discovered creating life was not so easy because they were not gods with infinite power drawn from another dimension. Instead, they mutated and perverted life that was already present instead. Using the Lesser races as a start, they created an assortment of sentient creatures and some not so sentient
."

  Absorbed in the story, but confused, Ember asked, "The Lesser races?"

  "Yes. Humans, the Elvehn, and the Dwarven people before any of us had access to magic or technology in the case of the Dwarves. Later, the magical races joined us in the eyes of the Ri’Tek. The Dragons, the Fae, and the DemonKind all became known as the Lesser races. They were young races. All of them just trying to live, to survive. They were easy targets for the Ri'Tek. The Lesser races were twisted and mutated into creatures so vile that Perdition's strongest demon lords cowered in their fiery hells, too afraid to face the walking nightmares even to save their own children, the DemonKind."

  "The DemonKind?” Ember let out. A jagged edge of the broken glass snagged the flesh between her fingers, but she barely felt it. “God in Heaven," she croaked, nearly choking. Her mouth dried out, feeling full of cotton, and her heart hammered in her chest as Yrlissa continued with the horrific story.

  "The Gods of that time stopped the Ri'Tek by stripping their magic and sealing it away. But in doing so, the Old Gods destroyed themselves. However, it was far too late as the Vascuul had already been born."

  "These Old Gods really didn't screw around, did they?" Max demanded as he dropped an armload of wood by the fire and eased down on his sleeping mat with a wince.

  "This happened several millennia before I was born, but yes, my Ker'Myhnera— my mother's mother," she explained upon seeing the confusion caused by the Elvehn term. "She read me the entries from the Dyrannai Avalath—"

  "Avalath?" Ember interrupted.

  Getting blank stares as she glanced around the campfire, yet again, Yrlissa sighed with frustration, and Aravae took the chance to explain.

  "It is a book kept by the Elvehn,” she told them. “A record of history as it affected our people."

  "That wasn't the end?" Nekrosa asked. "I can't imagine any race surviving once their magic was taken from them."

  "It was only the beginning,” Yrlissa said, shaking her head. “Soon after, in a matter of a few hundred years, the original Lesser races discovered their own magic—the earth's power we use today, but back then magic was much more powerful than now. Low class citizens had the power of gods. Accidents happened daily, and those who had been abused and oppressed became power-mad or were driven by revenge. Others snapped under the euphoric effects of newly bonded magic and gave birth to the Braiga.”

  “Insane wizards," Ember mumbled.

  "I can't imagine the suffering," Sephi added. Turning her nose up at her plate of food, she set it aside. "The deaths alone caused by the new magic must have been staggering."

  "They were," Yrlissa replied. "And the Ri'Tek, having no defense against this new magic, tried their best to help the Lesser races use it responsibly. They really did try, and it worked for a while—for decades even. Accidents still happened, though the blatant attacks against the Ri’Tek lessened. Lessened, but didn’t stop. Eventually, the Ri'Tek refused to tolerate it any longer. You can't begin to imagine the cunning intellect possessed by this race. They will out-think and out-maneuver you every time. It didn't take long before they figured out how to take this new magic granted to the Lesser races for themselves by using binding stones and a rare kind of wizard unique to the Ri'Tek—the Syddic priests. When the accidents and deaths continued, they attacked all the Lesser races, and the war started."

  "Shouldn't the Lesser races have won? You'd think the Ri'Tek wouldn't have lasted long so outnumbered and using unfamiliar magic." Nekrosa wondered aloud.

  "You forget." Yrlissa reminded them. "They're smart and devious, but more importantly, they didn't just have stolen magic. They had the Vascuul. Most of the Lesser races had no knowledge of these... creatures before facing them in battle."

  The utter disgust layered in the assassin's voice was obvious, and a look of recognition ghosted across Nekrosa's features. "You've fought them, haven't you?" he asked.

  Yrlissa raised her head, locking eyes with the DormaSain King. "Yes. I was a child of ten years old when I saw my first Vascuul long before the war started. It wandered into the forest and killed a dozen Druid forest guardians before it found our village. It attacked the group of children I was with. My mother, my aunt, and two others sacrificed their lives to save us. My father led the twenty warriors and mages that killed the Vascuul. My sister and I watched as we hid in the trees. We never found out where it came from or why it attacked."

  "One of these things did that?” Nekrosa asked. “Just one? By the Void, I'm sorry."

  "It is the far past. it only matters so you understand exactly what these things are." She paused for a moment. Ember flipped the piece of glass in her fingers and watched as the ghosts of the past drifted across Yrlissa's memory. Her friend struggled to wrestle them back.

  Feeling guilty about how she had been behaving, Ember forced her anger to calm. "It's okay. Take your time," she said. The painful glance Yrlissa gave her nearly broke her heart.

  “I am all right,” the assassin said quietly. “No one understood the point behind the creation of the Vascuul. Eventually, we learned they were created to emulate the Old Gods, to create new life, but they failed in their attempt. Later, the Ri'Tek discovered how well they killed, and how they thrived on senseless violence. They began breeding and creating Vascuul specifically designed for war in case the day came when they needed them. The creatures grew bored easily and had a battlefield blood-lust unlike anything we had ever faced. They attacked and attacked relentlessly. I once had a Vascuul gorgon track me for days on end even though it was mortally wounded. It just kept coming and coming until… until it fell dead from its wounds. Another hour and...”

  She paused and took and breath but continued before the horror of the story left the others. “The Vascuul refused to stop until they were down and dead. To try and counter them, the Broken Blades were formed. Magically enhanced killing weapons that never tire, are immune to most poisons, can ignore pain, and feel no fear. They are killers who will not stop until they have their corpse. And they... we... didn't stop until the Vascuul were dead or gone.”

  “Broken Blade assassins still live by that creed today,” Nekrosa said.

  “True,” Yrlissa replied. “But the guild has been corrupted and bastardized into a money and power-hungry organization ruled by a select few. I had hoped to be in control of the ruling council when all this came to pass. I even had an ally—the son of a Guardian—on the ruling council who would have helped, but I underestimated Merethyl Bellas' desire for greed and power.”

  Ember frowned and her anger flared back to life. The stories were nothing, but tangent stories designed to avoid the real questions. She pointed two fingers with the piece of broken glass between them at Yrlissa.

  “I...” Ember began.

  Yrlissa cut off her off. “Where did you get that?” she asked and snatched the chunk of vial from Ember’s fingers.

  “Why?” she asked as the assassin examined it closely.

  “Where did you find it?” Yrlissa repeated.

  “It was beside Kael when we arrived.”

  “Oh,” Yrlissa whispered. “All right.”

  “What is it?” Nekrosa asked.

  Yrlissa looked up into Ember’s eyes. “A reminder of a hopeless age.”

  “It looks like a piece of a potion bottle from long ago. It’s square, not like the round ones more common now,” Sephi offered. “I used one once to help Kael when we were in Dasal.”

  Yrlissa nodded. “I was,” she said. “A potion first attempted by the Fae. Many wizards have tried to perfect it, to no avail. It means Broken Blade Purge and it has never worked, as you can see.” She offered Ember the broken glass.

  “Someone tried to help him, you think?” Ember let out as she took the broken vial back.

  “Or it was broken during fighting or perhaps it has been lying in this field for an aeon—the likely explanation,” Yrlissa answered. “It matters not.”

  Ember frowned. “No it doesn’t,” she said, perturbed by the distrac
tion. “Any more than some stupid guild, Yrlissa. Tell me about Kael, about his kind. The DeathWizard. Where do they come from? Why? How the war ended. How come every story about the DeathWizard I hear is layered with corruption, evil, and insanity. Yet everywhere we went, Kael always helped people. Even the so-called priestess of Mylla lied to cover up why they had him tied up inside a tent. Tell me everything!”

  Yrlissa closed her eyes. “All right, Ember. Your first question. Where?”

  “Yes.”

  “The year was 549 ARI—549 years after the Ri'Tek invasion. Vascuul scouts had forced my people to abandon the Dyrannai Forest. Our home. Our elders had been trying for years to get the most powerful magic users from all the Lesser races in one place. The new gods had agreed to help build a magical weapon to fight the Ri'Tek. The DeathWizard. Though, that's not what we called them. That name and the Ri’Tek words Kai’Sar came much later, in our modern times.”

  “Gods.” Sephi sighed in awe. “You created a living weapon from complete scratch with magic? As in, you created an entirely new entity—not just magically enhanced an already existing one?”

  “Yes. Although, it was not by intention. We were desperate and stupid. We were naive, but worse, we had learned nothing from the Ri'Tek's mistake in creating the Vascuul. We were facing extinction, so every race willing offered the essence of their own magic and the gods offered theirs—a magic we had no understanding of. This essence was taken by ritual sacrifice to make the creature stronger. We needed magic stronger than all the gods combined. Dathac and Mylla, the gods of life and death, placed this mix of magic inside the sun and marked the unborn babes of six mothers to be. The magic was boosted by the sun, and the black rays triggered the marked babes. The weapons were spawned. The families who had offered a sacrifice, including the chosen mothers, were granted Elderblood powers as a payment for the lives of their own.”