by J D Franx
“Nackt,” Vog said, spitting the word out and rolling sideways as a gorgon exploded over the rocky outcrop. She landed in front of Kael.
Swinging his scythe to force the gorgon back, he stepped over the Dwarven man in order to protect him from the snake-like creature. As if unsure of who to attack, the gorgon hissed and glanced quickly between him and Vog.
“Back off,” Kael snapped, filling his hands with frosted black and purple magic. He was willing to bet the cold would slow the gorgon enough, so he could kill it. To his surprise, the creature instantly settled back and lowered herself onto her feet in a far less aggressive stance.
She stared and pointed to the magic in his hand. “You?” she asked. “You are a creature born of black. How?”
Kael refused to drop his guard. “Long story. If you’re not going to attack, perhaps you should leave.”
The creature’s head slowly moved side-to-side, like a snake mesmerizing its prey.
“Take care,” Vog whispered from behind him.
“Don’t worry That crap won’t work on me,” Kael snapped.
“Not trying to,” the gorgon said. “I am Gahainna. I will not fight one born of black.”
Kael scoffed. “Too bad your relatives don’t feel the same way,” he said, thinking about the creatures back in the field above where he woke. Gahainna smiled at him, and he noticed her beautiful face could only be Elvehn. As he studied her, it finally dawned on him what the Vascuul were—a mix of two or more races forced together by magic.
“My sisters will not oppose you, again,” she said. Rising onto her tail, she bowed and retreated back over the edge to disappear.
“Not that I’m not grateful, but, fear? Or a trick?” Kael asked, turning to Vog.
“Nah.” He snorted. “Vascuul crazy, not coward—no fear. Sensed respect for you.”
“Keep an eye open for her, will you? Don’t need her returning with the rest of her sisters from the crypts,” Kael told him. He took Vog’s offered water skin and bent over to help the Dwarven man.
Splashing water on the man’s face slowly brought him around.
“The priest was right,” he muttered as Kael stared, confused. “Thank Izotan’s hairy nards.”
“All right,” he said. “You must be feeling better.” He held out his hand to the man. “My name is Kael. This is Vog.”
“I know who ya are, boy,” he growled, and grabbed Kael’s hand to pull himself up. “Me name’s Dravik BloodPounder,” the man said, weaving and unsteady on his feet. “That Vascuul wench gone?”
“Boy, scared.” Kael rolled his eyes. Vog winked and laughed
“Ha!” Dravik barked. “So, the myths are true then, you old raven.”
Vog smiled and nodded. “Seems. Creatures of dark bow to black.”
“Bout goddamned time something went right,” Dravik quipped as he slapped Kael on the shoulder and nearly fell over.
“Easy,” Kael said, grabbing the man. “Would either of you two like to explain what the hell you’re talking about?”
Dravik laughed. “Of course, boy. One prophecy—two meanings—both older than time and both talk about the return of darkness to Talohna.”
Vog giggled. “Both true. One is... flawed, misunderstood.”
Kael frowned, and Dravik laughed harder. “Mildly understated, old friend. Two powers rise at the end of the prophecy, the dark and the black. Guess which you be, boy?”
“Let me guess? Black,” Kael muttered as he traced the black vines on his neck with a finger.
“Aye, and that dark power is goin’ to rise if that bloody Sythrnax manages to open all six seals. You stop him.”
Kael shook his head. “I tried. Twice. The second time cost me my life. This isn’t my war. Even if it were, it can’t be won. This isn’t even my wor—”
Dravik moved too fast for Kael to see, but he felt the slap bounce off his head, and his ears rang like a church bell. Before he could recover, Dravik grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him down to eye level.
“My brother gave his life, so I could get here to you. The last of my race gave their lives to protect that goddamn seal! Look,” Dravik barked. The man’s strength was incredible, and he forced Kael to his knees, pushing him toward the far the side. “The last Dwarven city burns, fueled by the bodies of my people. For over ten thousand years, we defended that city and thousands of others have died—my sons died— so that one day you could help all of the races of Talohna defeat the Ri’Tek for good.”
Kael jerked himself from Dravik’s grip. It took a large amount of magic to break the dwarf’s hold. “Then you wasted your long life, Dravik. I’m not going to waste mine again. We’re north of the Kasym. I’m right where I want to be. Eventually, the Ri’Tek will return here, and when they do I will kill every last one I can get my hands on, but one at a time. Only an idiot would try to face them as a race head on.”
“No,” Dravik snapped. “You cannot kill them all by yourself.”
“You’ve been hiding in your walled city for too long, Dravik. My kind are a pariah to those above the surface and the Ri’Tek are worshiped as gods in some countries. They are revered as the Ancients—the founders of magic and society. You want a war with the Ri’Tek? Then, you will have to face all of Talohna. Jasala Vyshaan tried that five thousand years ago to buy more time to reinforce the seal locks, and all she got for it was killed.”
“Not all,” Vog whispered. “She cast Sepulchre spell.”
“Yeah,” Kael yelled. “At the cost of her own life and an eternity of torture in hell for her soul. No thanks. I’ll go after Sythrnax and his ilk my own way.”
“Your mind is made up, boy?”
“Yes.”
“I do not agree, but perhaps the Ladies of Fate will bring everything we need together some day, including you. Vog?” The Mahala glanced up but said nothing so Dravik carried on. “El’Noray might have survived the Cataclysm. Take him there.” The little creature nodded a second time as the Dwarven General turned back to Kael. “Wish you the best, boy, I do. Many years of planning and fighting lie ahead. If you get to kill Sythrnax before I do, before he takes his last breath, tell him I survived Dal Dagore, will you?”
Kael nodded. “That I can agree too. Where are you going?” he asked. “You can travel with us, you know—” He was cut off by a stiff shake of the hand.
“If I cannot convince you to help,” Dravik said, “then I will find those who will. If Talohna will support the Ri’Tek, then I must find those who will not. Perhaps, the Lost. Do not fool yourself. War unlike any you can imagine is coming.” He smiled. “Take care, boy. The land above us is far more dangerous than south of the Kasym. You awoke in the very birthplace of magic.”
“Be safe, Dravik,” Kael said and nodded. The dwarf turned on his heel and disappeared over the rise, heading in the opposite direction the Vascuul gorgon had gone.
“Nacht,” Vog grumbled.
“What?” Kael asked.
“Come.” Vog waved and turned, heading down the slope the Vascuul had used. Kael glanced back the way Dravik went but shook his head and quickly followed the little Mahalan scout.
Chapter Sixteen
“What lies beyond the Black Kasym has been a topic of debate for many centuries. Scholars, philosophers, and historians have researched what they could, but the only person with any credibility has been Salabriel Aranasse. A firm believer that life exists in the long abandoned kingdom north of the Kasym, Salabriel has tried for years to launch an expedition north. However, no one has had enough confidence in her findings to finance such a dangerous expedition. Myths and legends tell us that great magic and resources could be found there. Personally, I believe if people and civilization north of the Kasym survived the Cataclysm, we would merely find more of what we ourselves experience every day.”
Garren Sallus,
Myths and Legends of Talohna
Volume 1
ANCIENT KINGDOM
TOWN OF EL' NORAY
“We thought no one was alive up here. The Ancient Kingdom has been cut off from Talohna for so long,” Corleya said, turning to her lady-in-waiting. Ever the stoic, Alia shrugged as the Princess continued. “There's a tavern over there. Look, by the market stalls.”
“We have no money, Princess, and nothing to trade,” Alia replied, keeping her voice low.
“Perhaps we can work for the owner. I'd spend a day peeling root veggies if it meant I got to eat something. I'm starving. The last of that keske you trapped was gone almost two days ago.”
Alia merely nodded.
Full dark had settled over the southern tip of the Ancient's long abandoned kingdom, and oil lanterns lit the sign above the tavern door. As the two women approached, Corleya read the sign aloud.
“Dagger's Roost. That's quite the name for a tavern.”
“Best be careful, Princess—Corleya. Forgive my lack of formality,” Alia said quietly.
“Probably best no one here knows where we are from or who we are,” Corleya said, smiling. She grabbed the wooden door handle and pulled. The murmur of steady conversation drifted out as the two women entered the tavern. Corleya stared openly, unable to believe her eyes. Humans and the Elvehn occupied the tables in the two-tier main floor of the tavern. The upstairs, split by a central staircase, was lined with doors to what could only be rented rooms. Thankfully there was no sign of prostitution. She sighed, relieved. It was a legitimate inn.
“Shut the damn door, girlie!” the man behind the bar yelled. He was older with gray hair, but a warm voice held no malice. “You'll let the bloody banshees in. It's cold and dark out, ya know.” Smiling, he waved them over.
Corleya quickly closed the door, and both young women approached the bar, nodding to the man.
“Can I help you young ladies tonight?” he asked as he chopped up pieces of meat before reaching and tossing them into a large pot. “Something to eat or drink? Stew will be ready before too long, or if you have a silver, I can cut you a haunch of keske.”
Corleya's mouth watered, and her stomach growled at the sight of the large goat roasting on a spit inside the fireplace. “I don't suppose you would happen to need any work done? Rooms cleaned maybe? We are rather short of coin right now,” she asked.
“Sorry, but no. My missus takes care of all that. What are you ladies doing here if you have no coin, if you don't mind my asking? El' Noray's a dangerous place for two young women with no means to support themselves. If you wait till morning there's plenty to eat in the forest if you know which plants and mushrooms are safe. You from around here? Your accent is different.”
“We're from up north,” Corleya offered quickly before the man asked more questions. Hoping to divert suspicion, she added, “It's been a rough trip.”
“I can certainly understand that, my dear. The boys from the day shift at the mine should be here right away, and this place will be a lot busier. Perhaps one of them might know a way for you to make some coin—”
The tavern door opened and banged shut, cutting the barman's words short. Corleya glanced back over her shoulder and felt her stomach run cold. A man dressed all in black walked her way. Though his face was hidden by his heavy fur-lined hood, his mere presence made her tremble. His long, black coat just touched the hardwood planks as he walked. When he passed them, all she could make out was his heavily patched chainmail and leather armor, a black goatee trailing to his mid-chest, and a set of strange weapons strapped to his back. She shivered as he nodded to the barman and sat down in the corner table furthest from the tavern's entrance.
“Gods,” she whispered, lowering her voice as she turned back to the barman. “Is he a miner?”
“By the Ancients, no. He's a hunter. Been here a couple weeks now. Scares the shit out of me every time he comes in, but he pays in silver or gold. Just be careful around him. He can be a very dangerous man. Leave him alone, though, and he seems to be quite nice. Two local boys learned that the hard way the first night he came to town.”
“Dead?” Alia asked.
“The young men? Aye, buried up on dumbass hill. Stupid boys, both of them. May the God's rest their souls easy.”
“What does he hunt?” Corleya asked, glancing back toward the man.
“Creatures and monsters, mostly. The nastier the better. Damn bastard for punishment if you ask me, but the miners night shift get to work and home safely now. He killed a banshee the first night he was here. In the last two weeks, he’s also taken down two feral weres and a fanged snowcat. Rumor has it he's hunting a White witch for the next town over. He might actually lose that one.”
“He's a mage?” Alia asked.
“Wizard. He is Human under that hooded coat and armor,” the barman answered. “One of the most powerful wizards I have ever seen, and that is saying something.” Corleya nodded and smiled as if she understood, but she began to panic. Too many more references they did not understand, and their story would fall apart. “Sonny and Grath could attest to that, were they still alive,” the barman carried on. “Guess you'd have to have a strong magic to hunt the creatures he does.”
“Why is he here?” Corleya questioned.
“Says he’s waiting for someone to return,” he said. “Not sure if they are friend or foe. His business, I guess. For now, most folk are happy he hunts the creatures we cannot. The miners do not take to him, but that is just miners’ ego.”
“Do you not have an ArchWizard for that up here who.” Corleya stopped short, realizing her slip too late.
“Arch wizard? Up here? I thought you ladies were from up north? What is an arch wizard?” The front door to the tavern crashed open, and a strong breeze blew through the ground floor, saving Corleya from explaining herself. Miners caked in sparkling black dust entered the tavern, and the last one struggled to close the door.
“Damn winds kicking up, Don,” he shouted to the barman as the latch fell, securing the door. They were loud and rough, joking and laughing after a hard day of work.
“My name is Donovan, ladies,” the barman told them, handing them each a mug of ale. “Here, on me. Go grab a table, and I'll see if any of the quieter boys might know of where you can find some work.”
“Thank you,” Corleya said, leading Alia to a table near the hunter. It was the only one vacant and away from the rowdy miners. The two sat and watched as Donovan cut slabs of the roasted keske and filled pitchers of ale to take to the miners. He served the most boisterous men first, finally coming to a table with three younger men.
Lowering his voice, he asked, “You boys know anyone who might be willing to hire a couple of young women for a few days?”
The oldest of the three smiled as he glanced at Corleya and Alia. “The widow, Reece, would be their best bet, Donovan,” the man whispered.
“Stay away from the widow,” the hunter growled, but offered no more.
“What the spook say?” one of the big miners asked.
“Nothing, Raz,” Donovan answered, clearly trying to avoid trouble. The hunter never looked up from his table. “Just wondering if anyone knew where the ladies might find some honest work.”
“Ha!” Raz barked, grabbing himself. “There's lots of honest work right here for them. You got plenty of spare rooms right, Don?”
The tavern owner shook his head. “You know I don't allow whoring in my establishment, Raz. Just enjoy your food and ale. Things have been too quiet the last few weeks to start trouble now.”
Raz stood. “Perhaps we should ask the ladies whether or not they'd like to earn some coin on their backs.”
“That's enough Raz!” Don said. “I promised these ladies my protection while in my tavern.” Raz passed Don and gently pushed him into an empty chair at the young men's table as he approached Co
rleya and Alia. The lady-in-waiting eased her leather whips from her belt. The metal burrs within the braids shone off the candlelight but did not deter the big man.
“What do you say, girls?” Raz questioned. “Interested in earning a lot of coin? My boys and I have plenty to spare. Obsidian mines pay excellent gold.”
“Not interested, big man.” Corleya said. She turned her back, knowing Alia had her covered if the thug was stupid enough to attack.
“Don't turn your back on me, woman!” He reached for Corleya but stopped short as the hunter rose from his table.
“Go home, Raz” the man barked. “Your pretty little wife is waiting for you.”
“What did you say, spook?”
“You heard me. Go home and leave these girls alone. Neither is out of their mid-teens. Leave them be, go home, and fuck your wife if you need it that bad. You should never neglect a woman as pretty as her. You’d not want her to wander, would you?”
“You best watch yourself, spook! You ain't looking at two boys tonight.”
“I'm not,” the hunter replied, stepping clear of his table. “I'm looking at man with a beautiful wife, two kids, and a foreman whose men need him in one of the most dangerous mines in the Ancient Kingdoms. Go home, Raz. I'm tired of killing stupid locals.” The insult brought the rest of Raz's crew to their feet, ready for a fight.
“Raz, please, don't do this,” Donovan said, pleading. “You didn't see what happened the night Sonny and Grath died. Let it go.”
The hunter took a few steps forward and held his hand out to Corleya. “Come stand behind me, please. He won't back down.”
“Damn right I won't. Magic-cursed spook, I'm tired of your stench reeking up our tavern. El' Noray and the south have been free of you magic freaks for centuries. It's time it went back to being that way,” he said, pulling an obsidian saber from his sheath. Corleya took the hunter's hand and let him guide her behind him to his table. Alia followed backward as she uncurled her whips and waited to see what would happen.