The Arclight Saga

by C. M. Hayden

  “He couldn’t always know the future,” Kyra interjected. “Or he wouldn’t have died.”

  “Not necessarily,” Fenn said, tapping his fingers on the bunkbed post. “Maybe his death was the best future possible.”

  Kyra conceded the point. “So, if there’s an imprint of this sword in Craetos’s journal, it stands to reason that it was once in his possession.”

  Fenn held up a hand. “I’m getting there. Context is important. At the time this journal was being written, Craetos was gallivanting around Arkos trying to imprison Nuruthil’s lieutenants. Some of the more powerful ones, like Sith-Narosa, had no life to take. They were never alive, so they couldn’t truly die. So, Craetos fashioned massive prisons to contain them.”

  “Like Syseril,” Kyra said.

  “Exactly like Syseril,” Fenn said. He leafed through the journal, then pointed his finger on one of the frayed pages. “And another place called…Nir Daras. The journal doesn’t say where that is.”

  The name struck a chord in Taro’s memory. “I’ve heard of it,” he said bitterly.

  “I haven’t,” Kyra said.

  Taro propped his back against the dresser. “It’s a city-sized temple in Helia. According to legend, it’s where the Shahl healed Emperor Rutharan and granted him immortality. Not sure what this sword has to do with it.”

  “Well, for starters, it’s not really a sword. Raethelas can become whatever the wielder wants it to be.” He brushed off some of the black metal, showing off a small indent near the middle. It was hard, dark crystal. “And that, boys and girls, is a fragment of the Deeplight.”

  Taro craned over, trying to get a better look at the crystal lodged in the black metal. It had a vaguely reddish tint to it, and now that it was free of grout, seemed to have its own inner light. Still, Taro didn’t feel any energy coming off it. When he was near the Arclight, he could feel its warmth and radiance. When he was near the Netherlight, he could feel the darkness pouring out. But this Deeplight seemed mostly dormant.

  “Arangathras said there were five lights,” Taro sighed. “The Arclight, the Netherlight, the Overlight, and apparently the Deeplight.”

  “That’s four,” Kyra said.

  “He didn’t mention the last one.”

  Fenn sat his books aside. “He was right, there are five. According to legend, the lights were gem-like stars that the Old Gods plucked from the heavens. Hard to say exactly where they came from, but all sources agree that they were used to forge the world.” He pointed to Raethelas. “Craetos used the Deeplight to contain the abominations he locked away.”

  “Why did the Shahl have it, then?” Taro asked, mostly to himself.

  “Whatever the reason,” Fenn said gravely, “him not having it is probably a good thing. As you’ve seen, it can bend people and objects to the will of the holder. The stronger the templar, the stronger the hold. In our hands, we could heavily influence others. In the hands of Vexis, or another truly powerful sorcerer…”

  Taro understood the implications. A moment of silence passed between the three. Taro made the blade on Raethelas disappear into the hilt, and tucked it into his uniform pocket. “I think we should keep this between us, for the time being.”

  No one argued the point.

  Taro was still wary of Fenn. However, despite his abrasive personality, he was as Kyra described him: brilliant. After talking to him for a few hours, Taro didn’t doubt that Fenn really had read every book in the Librarium cover-to-cover. Perhaps all that time around books had left his personality somewhat lacking.

  Whatever the case, this new mystery seemed to awaken some inner passion inside Fenn. He didn’t take another sip of alcohol for the remainder of the trip, and took a renewed interest in deciphering every bit of text in Craetos’s journal.

  _____

  Five days later, the three of them were above deck. It was late at night, and the passing air was cool against Taro’s skin. It might’ve seemed strange to those not from Endra Edûn, but in a city that never experienced darkness, nighttime was something to be cherished. Some of the people on the ship hadn’t seen a moonlit night in their entire lives.

  Taro had been staring at the night sky for some time, transfixed by the glow of ten thousand stars overhead, and the two huge, bright moons illuminating the dark sky. Taro was vaguely aware that Kyra had said something, but it wasn’t until she jostled him that it broke him from his stare.

  “Sorry, did you say something?” Taro asked absentmindedly.

  “We just passed into Caelis Enor,” Kyra said. She was sitting on a crate nearby, taking her inscriber apart and replacing the gear switch. “Another day and we’ll be in Castiana.”

  “Nervous?” Taro asked.

  “Excited. I haven’t seen Kurian in years.”

  Taro felt some hard emotion creep into his heart, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was. He forced a smile. “You mentioned him before. Who is he?”

  “He’s…he’s something else,” Kyra said, smiling whimsically. “The only dragon to ever serve in the Magisterium. Half-dragon, anyway. His mother was human.”

  “What about Antherion?”

  “Antherion never served. He was there because he enjoyed teaching. I remember meeting Kurian for the first time. I thought he was a joke, jumping around like an acrobat, and always smiling like he’d just told the funniest joke. But the more I knew him, the more I realized just how much pain there was behind that smile. He didn’t want to be in the Magisterium, he wanted to be with his own people, but they couldn’t accept him.” Kyra screwed the cap on her inscriber, and began reassembling it. “When he left, he promised I’d see him again.”

  “Kyra!” a voice called from the other side of the deck. It belonged to Lord Cassin, who was sitting in the middle of a small tentative audience.

  Even though airship was by far the quickest method of travel available, long journeys were a way of life, and entertainment was often scarce. Kyra told Taro that her uncle was a renowned storyteller, though her tone implied that he was somewhat of a serial exaggerator.

  “Kyra!” Lord Cassin repeated, waving his hand over. “C’mon love, you’ll like this part. You boys are welcome to come, too. Plenty of room.”

  Kyra, Taro, and Fenn did so and found makeshift seats on the many stacks of supplies. A few feet in front of Lord Cassin was a magistry lantern, burning bright and flickering like a campfire.

  The grizzled, gray man rubbed his hands together and licked his lips. “Right, so there I was, trapped on the island. My crew captured. The Raven Lords stripped me of my sword and shield, and tossed me into their arena to be sacrificed to the heathen wind god, Zoriath. They gave me only a single spear to defend myself, and when the arena door opened—”

  “Wait, back up,” Fenn said. He was sitting cross-legged and waving his hand. “Were they lords of ravens, or giant ravens?”

  “Giant ravens,” Cassin insisted, saying it as if it were nothing particularly strange. He raised one hand high over his head. “They were each taller by a foot than any man you’ve ever met, but they flew like a nest of angry hornets. Curved beaks as sharp as razors, too, and their whole island was filled to the brim with gemstones: rubies, sapphires, diamonds. They hoarded them for their shine, you see. They were obsessed with treasure, and thought we were there to rob them—”

  “Did they have hands or wings?” Fenn asked.

  In the dim light, Lord Cassin’s face was awash with hard shadows that made him look slightly terrifying. “What?” he barked, clearly annoyed.

  “Just wondering,” Fenn said defensively. “Did they have hands?”

  “What does it matter?” Cassin said, his bushy eyebrows furrowing into a scowl.

  “Well, if they didn’t have fingers, they couldn’t possibly have built the arena or the spears. But if they didn’t have wings
, they couldn’t have been flying around the way you describe. So, which is it?”

  The look Lord Cassin gave Fenn was one of pure disdain. It was one thing to not believe a story, but it was quite another to actively question it while the story was being told. “Hush, boy, you’re ruining the story.”

  “I guess it could be both,” Fenn mused to himself quietly.

  Taro thought about it for a moment, and added to Fenn’s questions. “And you said they could talk, but if they had beaks they couldn’t possibly form human words. No lips.”

  “If all you boys are going to do is bitch and complain, then feel free to head back to your quarters.” Cassin shooed them away without a second thought, then leaned forward with one elbow on each of his knees. “Anyway, as I was saying, they worshiped a giant four-winged crow named Zoriath, and I was to be the first sacrifice to the beast. I pleaded with the chieftain for him to spare my men, and he said he’d let them go if I defeated Zoriath in single combat.”

  Lord Cassin stood, making a few dramatic steps with his feet. “The monster was quick, so I danced around it just like this. I stabbed it with my spear, but the head broke off on the beast’s iron feathers.”

  Taro looked at Kyra. Kyra looked back with a sheepish smile. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Just humor him. You’ll get a good story if you don’t ask too many questions.”

  “Is he always like this?” Taro asked, wearing a wide smile.

  “Just watch.” Kyra raised her voice so that Cassin could hear. “Uncle, after this, could you tell us the story of how you wrestled Xerian?”

  Cassin’s smile was very white against his burly gray beard. “Xerian! Oh, you’ve loved that one ever since you were a little girl. He was a demon of winter ice, a spawn of Nuruthil unless I’ve lost my wit.” He rubbed his shoulder. “Still got aches from that fight. Give me just a minute to finish this one up, though, it’s not polite to leave people on the edge of their seats.”

  When Lord Cassin continued the story, Taro leaned back in to whisper to Kyra. “So…he’s a liar,” Taro said flatly.

  Kyra shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far. I have no doubt he crashed on an island and that he met some villagers there.” She smiled like a fox. “But, as they say, never let the truth get in the way of telling a good story.”

  They listened to Lord Cassin’s tall tales well into the night. Every so often, Taro would look back at Kyra with a bit of longing in his heart. Despite all that had happened between them, the mistrust, the fear, the anger, it all seemed so far off. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to move closer to her.

  But he stopped himself. He knew it would only end in misery for the both of them. He’d hurt so many people already—his mother and father, brothers and sisters—he didn’t want to add her to the list again.

  He loved Kyra, there was no doubt in his mind, but since he loved her, he knew the best thing he could do was keep his distance.

  Chapter Eleven

  A Storm of Wings

  Around midnight, rain began to patter the wooden deck of the Eventide. It wasn’t much more than a light drizzle, but the dark rainclouds in the distance suggested it would quickly get worse. When crackles of lightning lit up the sky, Lord Cassin decided the rest of his stories could wait.

  “We’d best get below deck,” Cassin said, then turned to his warder crew. “Batten down the hatches, and we’ll ride this thing out.”

  The storm clouds were menacing, an ominous mixture of purple and black that filled the horizon.

  “Maybe we should land?” Taro suggested.

  Cassin stood, shielding his face from the rain. “Not to worry, this old girl can handle a storm.”

  There was a crackle of ear-splitting thunder followed by a torrent of rain that seemed to come from nowhere. The deck was suddenly awash with water being kicked up by gusts of cutting wind. Cassin seemed surprised by the sudden change in weather, and began barking orders to the crew.

  “Get to the helm, keep her steady!” he shouted, pointing to one of his officers. He then pointed to another. “You, secure the port and starboard drive fins. We don’t want her listing too far.”

  There was a sudden scramble as the men hurried to follow his orders. With the rain pouring, they roped the ancillary mast and covered the wooden hatches to keep the downpour out.

  “Kyra,” Lord Cassin said as he tied one of the mast ropes onto a peg. By now, his gray hair was soaked and matted. “Get to the engine room. It’s going to get rough, and I don’t want her stalling.”

  Kyra didn’t hesitate. She jumped down one of the hatches and slid down the ladder into the underbelly of the ship. Just as Taro was about to follow her, something on the horizon caught his eye.

  The sky was so dark that, at first, he wasn’t sure what he saw. For a brief moment, as he stared out into the rain-swept night sky, the world went silent. The thunder faded and Lord Cassin’s voice was little more than a dim ringing in the back of his mind. Everything had a dreamlike quality to it, as Taro moved toward the bow of the airship, rain soaking him to the bone.

  The ship shook in the gusting wind, almost sending Taro over the edge. His prosthetic didn’t help, and he had to keep rebalancing himself to keep from falling over. He knew he should’ve turned around and gotten below deck, but as he stared into the black clouds ahead, he felt something deep inside his soul, tugging at his nerves. He felt his muscles tighten, his heart race, and a feeling of anxiety rush over him.

  Lightning flashed again, sending crackles of electricity surging through the sky like a spiderweb. When this happened, Taro saw a monstrous shadow frame against the light.

  “Taro!” Lord Cassin came up beside him, trying to pull him away from the edge of the listing ship. “Have you lost your mind?”

  When Taro wouldn’t move, Cassin looked in the same direction he was and saw what had Taro transfixed. Whereas Taro was frozen at the sight, Cassin had the wherewithal to shout, “DRAGON!”

  It was no ordinary dragon. Its wings flapped, its eyes burned like two smoldering yellow coals, but its scales were rotted, exposing large sections of bone and muscle. Its wings were torn and ragged, but somehow it stayed in the air. It flew toward the Eventide with burning purpose, long shadows trailing behind it.

  The roar that followed was louder than any thunder Taro had ever heard, and like no living creature he’d ever encountered. There was a high-pitched wail caught inside it, like the beast was crying.

  It made a pass over the Eventide, so close that when Taro looked up, he could see the monster’s underbelly.

  And it was a monster, no doubt. Calling it a dragon wouldn’t have done it justice. Yes, it had the form and shape of a dragon—horns, scales, wings—but it was truly a sack of flesh and maggots held together by some profane magic. The dark glow of Netherlight magic shone within it, but its eyes…its eyes glowed bright like the sun.

  Somewhere in the back of Taro’s mind, he remembered Arangathras’ words to him in the Conservatorium: “There are rumors…whispers of my long-dead father returning as a necrotic abomination under her control.”

  A single word passed Taro’s lips. “Craetos.”

  The monster opened its jaw as it passed once again, and fire erupted outward, blooming like a flower overhead and striking the Eventide’s mast. The airship rocked as if it had been struck by the hand of God, and Taro tumbled across the rain-soaked deck. He felt one of the straps on his prosthetic snap as he struck his back against a crate, however, it was still secure enough to stand with the aid of his staff.

  The flames had incinerated the top of the mast, sending shredding, burning scraps of sail tumbling through the air like autumn leaves. For a moment, night became day, and everything was illuminated in a blinding flash of heat and fire. Taro felt the hairs on his arms burn away as if he were standing at the entrance to
a furnace. The heat was so great, it sent rainwater up in vast plumes of steam, choking the air.

  One of the warders who’d been securing the mast caught fire, and his fellow soldiers were trying to pat out the flames covering his arms and back.

  Craetos came around for another pass, and Lord Cassin shouted orders to his crew. “Bring out the cannons!” he said, grabbing hold of the helm. When he seized the wheel, the Eventide turned hard, and when Craetos was lined up parallel to the ship’s port side, a barrage of cannon fire rang out. It struck the monster in its right eye, its wings, and in the chest, leaving large worm-filled holes in the undead creature. But, as the crew cheered at their direct hit, Taro was wary enough to watch, and saw that Craetos’ dead flesh wrapped itself back together almost immediately.

  The cannon wounds closed up like clumps of raw meat sewing together, and the cheers of the crew died.

  “Fire at will!” Cassin shouted, spinning the helm wheel all the way around, trying to move the ship outside the monster’s range. He failed, and a cone of fire blasted over the deck, scorching a dozen warders.

  Taro was lucky enough to have his back to a railing, but his right shoulder still took a hit, and the top of his uniform was badly burned. He pulled off his uniform overshirt, and tossed the smoldering thing aside. The ship was in a tumble, and the crew panicked, trying to put out the fires on both themselves and the deck.

  The helm was completely destroyed, burned to a stump, and Lord Cassin wasn’t much better. His arms were black and charred, and while not unconscious, he didn’t seem able to stand.

  Without the helm wheel to control it, the Eventide spun wildly, tilting back and forth, and tumbling toward the valley below. All the while, the rain poured, lightning flashed, and the monstrous dragon swooped around to strike the ship again. Its fire ripped through the center of the hull, blowing out the back of the ship and breaking one of the rudders free.