by C. M. Hayden
Though Arkos was large enough for them all, the human tribes went to war for land, for power, for small bits of rock. They killed and slaughtered each other by the thousands. The wars seemed unending, and Nuruthil despaired. Still, he had faith his people would see reason and order. He spoke to Sacrolesh, unsung hero of the tribes, and—
“Unsung hero?” Taro interjected. “Sacrolesh was a warlord and a killer.”
“Let her tell it!” Sikes said.
—wise sage of the Helians. Sacrolesh was granted great power, and used it to bring the other tribes into line. To stop the bloodshed. Eventually, he conquered the others, but Aldor’s people fled.
Amín guided them across the mountains and tundra to the Star of Creation, and they lived and thrived in its arcane light.
What was left of Nuruthil’s mind cracked and splintered like ice. He channeled every ounce of his willpower and tried to wipe the slate of creation clean in one thunderous bout of rage. However, the other gods had grown powerful and with their combined efforts were able to prevent him from snuffing out all they had built.
They petitioned him to see reason, but he refused, spurred by their disobedience. If he couldn’t erase it all through force of will, he’d do it one piece at a time. He stuck his hands into the darkest, deepest recesses of the reach between worlds, and used the aether to spawn his armies. Creatures of the void poured onto Arkos like a great wave. They tore the lands, destroyed homes, razed cities, and besieged Castiana.
The dragons flew their city high into the clouds to avoid the carnage, but they were soon visited by the gods themselves. The gods stood in the throne room of Craetos the All-Seer and beckoned their son to aid them.
“We can bind Nuruthil,” Amín said to Craetos. “But our powers will be much diminished. We cannot hold back his armies and him at the same time.”
“What would you have me do?” Craetos asked.
“Ride out and meet them,” Irenim said. “Draw his forces into combat while we imprison him.”
“We have no love for the humans,” Craetos answered. “Yet I know that none will be safe if Nuruthil succeeds. We will do as you request, but we ask for one thing in return.”
“If it is within our power, it shall be granted,” Terithoth said. These were the first words he had spoken since his creation.
“Please,” Craetos said, “allow those who fight to be granted a mortal death, to pass through the reach between worlds, and to serve at the Mast.”
The Old Gods conversed for thirty days and thirty nights, knowing that such an act would add chaos into the world and further diminish their ability to hold their father in place. In the end, however, they agreed; but they knew that even with forty thousand dragons, they would be vastly outnumbered.
By this time the humans had multiplied and many had discovered magic. Amín knew that they would be powerful allies and went to Sun King Aldor and asked him to aid them.
The Sun King asked not for anything for himself, instead he asked that his line be long and unbroken, that his children be fruitful and not know the sting of sword or the pierce of arrow. This he was granted, and on this very field the armies met, led by Sun King Aldor and Craetos the All-Seer. Dragons and humans, demons and apparitions. The woodland fae, the mountain dwellers, the feirkin, the giants, all manner of creation would come to bare. Nuruthil himself walked these sands, and a thousand dragons, including Craetos, fell by his hand alone.
But while Nuruthil’s attention was focused on the battle, the Old Gods’ plan was already in motion. The many deaths from the battle opened a rift to the reach between worlds, and Nuruthil was forced inside. His anger boiled out with the intensity of white fire; the ground rumbled, the oceans churned, and weather of the planet shifted harshly. The Old Gods covered their ears and wept. The dark god’s armies scattered, to be hunted down and slaughtered.
Though the Old Gods were victorious, no songs were sung, for the number of dead was beyond the count of grief. They had betrayed their creator, and there was no joy to be had.
It wouldn’t be long before they left Arkos. They set sail through the Void but promised that one day they would return, to see if their actions bore fruit, to punish the wicked, and to ensure Nuruthil remains bound for all-time.
_____
“So…” Sikes began. “The Old Gods are a bunch of jackasses.”
Taro scoffed.
“What?” Sikes said indignantly. “If that story’s true, they sound like a bunch of assholes. I’m just saying what everyone who’s ever heard that story probably was thinking. They betrayed their creator for us?”
“I think it’s supposed to be uplifting,” Taro said.
“It’s not. ‘Congratulations, guys,’” he said mockingly, “‘you get to die!’ What a load of rubbish.”
“I’m sure there’s more to the story than all that,” Taro said. “It doesn’t even mention the forging of the Pillars or the War of the Aegis. And come to mention it, Sivion told me there were seven dragons in the beginning, not six. And she was there.”
Vexis turned around to face the wall. “Like I said, the story was in Sun King Aldor’s own handwriting. I don’t think he had much cause to lie.”
“He was just a man,” Taro said. “You can’t know everything all the time.”
“Feel free to bring it up to my father, if you ever meet him. He loves it when people argue doctrine with him.” The tone of her voice made it clear that this was most certainly not the case. “Now, for the love of whatever you believe in, go the hell to sleep.”
Chapter Twenty-four
The Guide
Waking up to the night sky overhead was strange for Taro, but it didn’t unnerve him nearly as much as the faint sound coming from the nearby mine entrance. At first he thought it was just his imagination, or the last bit of a dream that refused to go away; but as he came to, he realized it was very real. It was a low, barely audible growl punctuated by the sound of metal scraping against stone and a voice speaking indistinguishable words.
Taro woke Sikes and Vexis with a shake and pressed his hand to their mouths to keep them from crying out. “Shhh,” he said quietly, and pointed to the mine. The barest hint of light shone from inside, flickering like a campfire. They crept closer into the mine shaft, wary of the rotting wooden beams holding the whole structure together. A dozen yards down, the shaft turned into an opening sprawled with box carts knocked off their rails. In the corner was a fire composed of planks torn from those same carts.
The talking and growling sounds came from a man and his hulking dog sitting beside the fire. There were large stones pressed right up against the flames, and the man was using these to sear strips of meat from the carcass of a coyote.
The man was huge, with rough fingers and bare biceps that were thicker than Taro’s whole body. His dog was an enormous stumpy-legged bulldog with crusty eyes and a droopy, wrinkled frown. It sat patiently beside him, eyeing the food but making no motions toward it. Around its neck was a great chain that must’ve weighed fifty pounds, but the enormous dog didn’t seem fazed by it. It drooled expectantly as the man flipped over a bit of hairy meat and cooked the other side.
The man looked wild. He was Helian—no surprise there—but his blond hair was so thick with dirt it might as well have been brown. His clothes were all crudely hand-sewn, and a great many small dragon knucklebones made up a sort of armor that went down his chest and back. There was black and red paint under his eyes and around the arch of his ears, and his teeth were rather gamely and unkempt. He tore into a nearly raw piece of coyote flesh and grumbled.
“Not much meat on it, Anden,” the man said. Taro realized ‘Anden’ was his bulldog. “Would give an arm and a leg fehr some salt.” He tossed a hunk of meat to the dog, and it scarfed it down in a single frantic gulp.
“We’ll hit town tomorrow ifin’ we can make it,” the man continued. As the meat he had sitting on the hot rocks sizzled, he unlaced his pack and picked through his supplies with a grimace
. “No spices, damn it.” He picked up a small wooden box, the kind used to hold salt, and ran his finger along the inside, finding nothing.
Taro stepped forward, and some rocks crunched beneath his foot. When he did this, the bulldog looked up and gruffed, scanning the room, though his face was so wrinkled it was a wonder that he could see anything.
“Somethin’ wrong, boy?” the wild man said.
Taro and Sikes froze like statues; but to their horror, Vexis walked casually out of the shadows and approached the man. He leapt to his feet and seized a huge beam of wood from the ground, brandishing it like a cudgel. His dog took an aggressive stance, snarling and snapping at her to stay away.
“Who’s there?” the man shouted. “Out where I can see yeh!”
The boys moved into the light and Vexis raised her hands in front of her. “We didn’t mean to sneak up on you, my friend,” she said in an overly-friendly demeanor that Taro recognized as false.
“Yeh ain’t no friend of mine,” the man said, shaking the heavy beam of wood like it was weightless. “Turn back the way yeh came. This is my fire, my food, and I ain’t sharin’.”
“We’re just travelers,” Sikes interjected.
The wild man shook his head, his dirty hair flailing. “Ain’t no travelers underground in the middle of the Wastelands. Only bandits, thieves, and liars.”
“So which of those are you?” Taro asked pointedly.
“If yeh wanna keep your other leg, boy, you’ll shut yehr mouth and move along.” He pointed the wooden beam straight at Taro.
Keeping his hands visible, Taro slid his pack down his shoulder and set a spice box on the floor. Inside was a few ounces of salt, which he tossed to the man. “A gift,” he said. “For the interruption. We’ll be on our way, we’ve got quite a way to go to get to the capital.”
Taro and the others turned to leave as the wild man inspected the salt. He dipped one grizzled finger into it and touched the grains to his tongue.
“Wait,” the wild man said before they got too far. “Yeh ain’t travelin’ this time of night, is you?”
“We’re trying to avoid the sun,” Taro said.
“It ain’t the sun yeh need ta be worrin’ about. The animals come out at night. They’ll cut yeh to ribbons if yeh ain’t bein’ careful.”
“We’ll be careful,” Vexis said dismissively. “I used to come out here when I was kid.”
“Yehr barely more than a mite. What yeh lot doin’ out here alone?” His body language eased, and he motioned them toward him. He placed the wooden beam down, but kept it close enough should he need to grab it again.
When they sat down around the fire, the man’s dog trotted over to Taro and the others, smelled every inch of them, drooled a bit, and apparently found them to be to his liking. He plopped his wrinkled chin onto Taro’s lap and looked up expectantly.
“Don’t be afraid,” the wild man said. “He won’t bite.”
Taro cautiously petted the enormous animal. His leg kicked, and he drooled a bit more.
“Yeh got some meat in your pack, I guess?” the man said.
Taro dug out a tiny bit of dry meat, ripped off a small piece, and fed it to the dog.
The wild man laughed heartily. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, “yehr never going to get rid of ’em now.” He cleared his throat and flipped the coyote meat on the hot rock. “If yeh ain’t thieves, and yeh ain’t bandits, what are yeh? I didn’t see no horses or wagons above, and traveling on foot through the Wastelands is suicide.”
“We had wagons and ponies,” Taro said. “But we were robbed on a canyon road. They made off with a lot of our valuables. Almost killed us.”
The man thought for a moment and licked his cracked lips. “The only canyon in walking distance is near the edge of the Wastelands. You shoulda gone west, greener pastures and closer towns.”
“We’re in a hurry,” Vexis said. “We have to get to Helia Edûn.”
“Most folk are trying to get away from Helia these days,” the man said. He eyed Vexis closely, looking her over like she was familiar to him. “I heard yehr father’s been lookin’ for yeh, missy.”
Vexis looked legitimately surprised by his recognition. “Do I know you?”
“I might not be as sharp as I once was, but I ain’t so stupid that I don’t recognize one of the Shahl’s brats five feet in front of me face. It’s them eyes, they give it away.”
Vexis shifted uncomfortably. “What’s my father been up to?”
“Hell and high water,” the man said. “The codger’s crazier than usual. Roundin’ up every magic-user the Inquisitors can get their hands on. The smart ones are tryin’ to get out. Word is that one of his children killed a dragon, and they’ve been buzzin’ the air for days lookin’ fehr her.” He gave her a significant look. “Don’t suppose you might be the little shit they’re after?”
Vexis stared back at him. “Guilty as charged.”
“If they was smart,” the man said. “They woulda put a heavy bounty on your head. But I don’t think dragons are big on money. And if there’s no bounty, I got no reason to give you up. You can relax.”
A thin smile broke on Vexis’ face. “I’d love to see you try to haul me in. The Endrans might pay you somethin’.”
The man spat hard and chortled. “Godless bastards and shit-spinners. I’d just as soon kill every one of ’em before I took a bent copper. The last one I met robbed me blind. One of them spell-castin’ folk, small little thing called himself Veld-something. Took him to see the fire eels, I did, and what did I get fehr it? Nothin’. I tell yeh, them Endrans can’t be trusted.”
“You’re Rennly?” Taro said, and kicked himself for saying it aloud.
The wild man’s eyes focused in on him. “You know my name?”
“Your reputation precedes you.” Vexis grinned, glancing sideways at Taro. “But I completely agree. Endrans are liars, the whole lot. Am I right, Taro?”
Taro was suddenly very aware that he was probably the only Endran around for two hundred miles. He laughed sheepishly, staring at the hulking man who looked like he could tear him apart like a wet napkin. “All of them,” he squeaked.
Rennly seemed to accept this, and he went back to cooking the meat. It smelled quite good as it sizzled against the rocks. Taro tried to steer the conversation in a different direction, and he pulled out a small burlap pouch of dried butter beans.
“We’re a bit low on water, or we would’ve made these already,” Taro said. “I don’t suppose you have any to spare?”
Rennly produced a small iron pot from his pack and emptied out a waterskin until it was half full. Taro poured in the beans, and Rennly set it on the hot rock. Rennly seemed to relax around them considerably.
As the beans came to a boil, Rennly prodded them with a stick to keep them from settling at the bottom of the pot.
Taro stroked the bulldog that still had its chin on his knee. “Is there any way you could get us to Helia Edûn, even with the dark?” he asked Rennly.
Rennly nodded after some thought. “Aye, but it’d be dangerous. What’s the rush?”
“My sister was kidnapped,” Taro said. “Taken to the capital. We’re trying to find her, and time’s a factor.”
Rennly chewed on the air. “That’s a noble cause,” he said. “But I gotta be thinkin’ of me-self. Can’t do it for free.”
Without hesitation, Taro grabbed his bag of silver and laid out several crowns beside the fire. Rennly picked them up and held it to the light. “Endran coin, eh?”
“You can melt them down if you want,” Taro said. “They’re true silver.”
Rennly bit one and found it to be the case. “So they are.” He stopped stirring the pot and motioned to Taro’s prosthetic. “But if we run into a few Gorgors, all the silver in the world won’t save you. Sure you can keep up?”
“Yes,” Taro said with more confidence than he felt.
The truth was that walking so far had affected him much more tha
n he cared to admit. Even with the proper magistry runes, his wooden leg was not meant for long bouts of travel, certainly not through the desert. With every hour that passed he could feel the creaking of the laces against the wood as the whole structure threatened to break apart.
“What’s a Gorgor?” Sikes asked. He’d been strangely quiet until now, sitting a fair distance back and eyeing the giant man.
“Eels that dig through the earth, they got fire blood and can sear the flesh off yehr arm right to the bone,” Rennly said, tapping his forearm with two fingers. “And they ain’t the worst thing up there, neither.”
“We can handle it,” Taro said.
Rennly licked his dry lips again. “If that be the case, then I can have yeh in the capital before moonrise tomorrow. Although,” he said, taking the pot off the hot rock, “I can’t be vouchin’ for yehr safety once you get there. These be mad times, and I ain’t a bodyguard, yeh hear?”
Chapter Twenty-five
Talthis
“This is madness,” Magister Briego said. His face was several shades of red; and for a man that always seemed so lighthearted, Kyra could see just how angry he truly was. She didn’t care.
“I’ve made my decision,” she said resolutely.
“Your father gave you clear instructions,” Briego countered, his voice peaking as if he were speaking to a simpleton.
“My father isn’t here,” Kyra countered.
They both tried to keep their voice down as they moved through the hallways of the palace. Kyra clutched a leather bag with a zipper on the top tightly under her arm. The stonemasons and sculptors working on the palace restoration lined the scaffolding and craned their necks to hear what all the commotion was about. When they neared the last door at the end of the hall and Kyra went to open it, Briego pushed the door with his hand to prevent it from moving.