Shadow of the Arisen: An Epic Dark Fantasy Novel (Lands of Wanderlust Book 1)

by Paul Yoder

  “Should be down in just a few minutes. He knew I was going to be climbing fast so he started even before I made it to the end of the chimney.”

  Cavok traded off hands and rested the arm that had born him up for the last ten minutes, stretching out his stressed arm.

  Without warning, Nomad’s legs slipped over the ledge into sight, followed by his increasingly bloody torso, and finally his head—looking quite relieved to see Cavok close by.

  “Change of plans? Where’s the rope?” Nomad asked, seeming more curious than concerned about the unexpected change in the route.

  “The rope didn’t hold my weight, so you’re going to have to swing and jump to me. I’ll catch you.”

  Looking down, Nomad could see Fin and Reza descending along an easy route, with Reza almost to the bottom already.

  “Alright. Ready for me now?” Nomad asked, squinting to look at Cavok through a curtain of sand from above as Cavok again switched hands so that he had his predominant hand open to snatch Nomad once he jumped.

  “Ready,” Cavok answered, leaning out to catch the man.

  Nomad swung back on the ledge to get some momentum for the leap when the slab of rock he hung on shifted, pouring more sand down on him, blinding him as he swung in and then back again, Cavok yelling to him to jump through the swirl of sand—but it was too late.

  The rock slab that each member had swung on had had enough, and as it broke off from the rest of the ledge, it swung Nomad out away from the cliff face, leaving Cavok hopelessly reaching for him.

  Nomad fell alongside the slab, a sick feeling of fear instantly pounding into his gut.

  Gripping to the falling slab and launching off of it midair, he attempted to make his way back to the wall, but his spring just sent the slab slightly further outward, and by the time he had performed the quick midair feat, the fall was over.

  Blackness, then a sickening commotion, then pain, then blackness again assaulted him before he realized he was spinning—tumbling uncontrollably—on and on until he came to a sudden stop, his face cracking against a rock.

  He had no notion as to how much time had passed—it seemed like only moments—but soon he was partially aware of a voice calling to him, yelling at him.

  His mind was a swirl of impending unconsciousness and agony, but through the midst of it all, he was distantly aware of his thoughts.

  The voice screamed to him again and his head was lifted up.

  Was it Reza? Gods, the pain! A hundred points on his body stung, each vying for his attention.

  A crippling crunch snapped through his chest, as his head was raised. His lungs exploded in pain, his breathing immediately becoming more laborious, feeling now like he was drowning, though he knew that they were nowhere near water.

  The darkness that had been ebbing and flowing, now washed over him in full force, threatening to snuff his consciousness out, washing away the pain with it.

  Only gingerly fighting it off, he let go as a torpor blanket fell atop his mind, shutting all stimuli out.

  35

  Night Coach

  He had had visions of an angel visit him in his unconsciousness. A holy figure administering to his wounds, coaxing him back to a more lucid state, rejuvenating his body, nursing it back from the brink of destruction.

  He saw through a haze, devoid of time, and as he opened his eyes, realizing that he was waking back to the physical realm. He wondered if he had slept his whole life away, having no reference of how much time had passed.

  “Nomad,” a voice cut through the dim of the night, stirring him out of his half slumber.

  A hand gently grasped the side of his face, and the same voice, a voice he recognized to be Reza’s, spoke his name again.

  “Nomad. How do you feel?”

  Looking up at Reza through the dim light, Nomad attempted to sit up, wincing only slightly as he felt soreness along his sternum and ribs.

  Looking around, he saw that they were in a moving carriage, the faint starlight of the desert night sky twinkling outside, accompanied by the paced clip-clop drone of horses hooves in the background.

  “We just left Viccarwood—now we’re headed to Plainstate’s capital, Sheaf. Going to be morning soon.”

  Nomad could tell that Reza was more subdued than normal, her voice more soft than even he thought it could be.

  “What’s wrong?” Nomad asked, looking into Reza’s sleepy eyes, seeing now that she was barely sitting herself.

  Slowly blinking, seeming to strain to stay awake, Reza began, “You were dying.”

  Sitting back, resting against the wall of the carriage, she continued, “I got to you just in time I think. You seemed to be slipping from us fast. I had to heal you or you weren’t going to make it.”

  “The touch of a saren,” Nomad whispered, realizing that she had used her innate healing ability to revive him.

  She nodded her head. “Yes, and the greater the healing, the greater the toll it takes upon me. I almost passed away from that one. You were upon deaths door. So many injuries. So much pain….”

  Nomad looked off into the passing landscape, the weight of Reza’s sacrifice slowly sinking in

  “Thank you, Reza,” Nomad said, placing a hand over hers. Reza answered with a smile of acknowledgement as she rested her eyes, falling asleep quietly in the dark, rhythmic drum of the carriage.

  36

  A Royal Audience

  “You two, we’re here,” Fin said, nudging both Reza and Nomad, waking them from their deep slumber.

  Nomad sat up, still feeling the soreness along his chest, but moving quickly to help Reza lean forward, allowing Fin to assist her out of the carriage, Nomad stepping out afterwards.

  “Daren, see to their carriage and horses,” ordered a smartly dressed female Nomad knew to be haltia, an elegant race whose bloodline and history traced far back into the world’s past.

  “Guard. With us,” the haltia crisply said, ordering one of the gate guards to follow behind the group as she led them through a small garden towards a mansion the size of which Nomad had not often seen.

  Looking back at the guard, still a bit befuddled as to where they were and who their new company was, he looked ahead at the haltia once more, looking her over more carefully to try and piece together what was going on.

  She stood high, perhaps a foot over him, more on par with Cavok’s height, and her elegant gait was fluid, effortless. Her hair shown a bright white, the noonday sun shimmering along her long, breezy hair as she walked. Her physique, as with most of her kin, was trim and delicate, though from the stories, he had heard, their size was no gauge to measure their strength by.

  He had also glanced her face upon exiting the carriage and knew she bore the trademark sign of her race—large, metallic silver irises and frosted lashes and lips. Their stunning visage was a sight few, other than haltia themselves, ever got over.

  “Do you need assistance, sir?” the guard behind Nomad discreetly asked, apparently noticing that Nomad was favoring a leg and unwittingly clutching at his side.

  “No, thank you,” Nomad said, waving off the man’s concerns, clearing his thoughts of the striking haltia as the group entered a great greeting room, two balconies lining the tall walls up above them, a grand flight of stairs stretching out before them.

  The group was led up the stairs, the sweeping banister that ran along it a welcome sight for Nomad who leaned on it liberally as they made their way to the third floor.

  The haltia turned left at the top and raised a hand, landing three brief knocks on a door that was framed with gold inlaid rosewood.

  “Yes, Leith. Come in,” a man’s voice within the room spoke.

  Turning the gold handle, the haltia opened the door and entered, announcing, “Lady Reza and her company just arrived. I brought them straight in. You mentioned that you wanted to see them as soon as they returned.”

  Everyone entered the room with Reza at the front, sta
nding steady on her own now, having shrugged off Fin’s support as they entered.

  A man whose age evaded Nomad, looking rather young, but with the occasional slight sign of time to his features, stood up.

  He was robed in royal-purple, loose-fitting open robes that cut in a V line all the way down to his navel, showing a slit of his well-toned torso. His garb was lined with tiger’s fur, and his whole ensemble easily bespoke extravagance and a culturally rich local, which Nomad comfortably assumed to be the sultan the rest of the group had spoken of. The turban on the man’s head, topped with a red, large feather up the front, caused a raised eyebrow from Nomad, impressed with the strange new sights the sultan’s establishment provided.

  The rest of the group dropping to a knee in respect, Nomad followed suit, not knowing the customs in the presence of royalty in this region, completely relying upon the others’ actions to guide him through the meeting.

  “Arise,” the man said with a smile, walking over to Reza, offering her a hug just as she struggled back to her feet.

  “Good to have you back. I was beginning to worry for you, Reza,” the man spoke in an easy tone, and added, “as I also worried for you, Fin and Cavok!”

  Nomad sensed an uneasiness in the room by most present, and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps the personable display the sultan was showing was too informal for Reza and the rest of the group to feel comfortable with. Not knowing the culture, he could only guess, but as Sultan Metus brought up his next question, Nomad reconsidered his assessment of the uneasy tension in the room.

  “Where is Bede?”

  “We need to discuss our mission with you, your highness,” Reza said in a controlled voice, her staunch soberness erasing Metus’ cheerful demeanor.

  “Yes,” Metus said gravely, then called for his steward to retrieve a few more chairs for everyone to have a seat.

  The haltia returning with two more chairs, one for Zaren, and the other made for a praven, which Jadu hopped up on almost as soon as the haltia had placed it down.

  “Thank you, Leith,” Metus said softly, adding, “Stay if you would,” halting Leith as she was heading out the door.

  Closing the door, she came to stand by her liege, the room quieting before Metus asked, handing a pad of paper and a wetted quill to Leith, “Now, your mission. If you are ready to give a report, I will listen, and Leith will record. It seems urgent, whatever you have discovered. Take all the time you need.”

  Taking a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, Reza began.

  “After we set out for Brigganden, which we had decided to approach from the north, we came upon an odd caravan. They were far off, but seemed heavily armored and dark, not seeming to be any local militia that any of us could recognize.

  “We tracked them through the day when a sandstorm hit, and shortly after, we were attacked. I got separated from my companions in the fray, and this man,” she said, motioning to Nomad, “came to my aid. I would not have survived without his care as I was poisoned during the battle and would have surely died without the medical help of this skilled praven,” she followed up, now motioning to Jadu.

  Being mentioned, Jadu hopped up from his chair and walked over to Metus’ study desk and held out his hand, saying, “Jadu, at your service, my lord!”

  Metus smiled and gladly accepted the offer, shaking Jadu’s small hand, looking up to Nomad to ask his name as well.

  “Nomad, also at your service,” Nomad added, leaning forward, offering a bow instead of a handshake, Metus returning the gesture with a nod of his head.

  “As you have saved the life of a servicewoman and a dear friend of mine, I thank you. If I can ever repay you for your kindness, you simply may ask it and I will do what I can to assist.”

  “We are grateful,” Nomad said, bowing his head once more in appreciation, Metus again returning the gesture with a smile, asking Reza to continue the report afterwards.

  “Recovery, travel, and regrouping back up put us a few days behind schedule, and once I was reunited with Fin, Cavok, and Bede at the Gravine Ruins, Jadu and Nomad here, wished to travel with us. I allowed them to join our company as both had already proved their worth and knew of the risks involved with traveling with us.

  “The six of us then headed south to Brigganden. We arrived there without too much trouble. We spent the night in the residential district outside of the city walls. The houses and land seemed to be partially destroyed, mostly by fires, and as far as we could tell, completely abandoned. Looted caravan’s line the main highway.

  “We came to be aware of scouting regiments of twenty or so armored soldiers—enough to determine that there was an occupying army within the city walls. The soldiers consisted of, as earlier reports had said, arisen. We can now confirm those outstanding claims that were in question.”

  At the news, Metus’ demeanor darkened noticeably, looking off to the side to consider the confirmed malicious presence at the borders of his lands.

  Reza only halted for a moment to allow Metus to take in all she had reported on thus far, which also allowed Leith time to catch up with her record keeping.

  “We gained access to the city by route of a hidden, underground military access tunnel, its location, if you don’t already have records of, I can later show you on a map.

  “Once inside, we set up camp in an officer’s quarter, deploying Fin and Jadu to gain access to Darendul Tower, which is the highest point in the city, to survey the enemy forces numbers and activity.

  “We also deployed Bede and Nomad to investigate the royal court district, assuming any leaders present in the city might naturally establish themselves in the preexisting locations of power and luxury.

  “Fin and Jadu successfully gained entrance to Darendul Tower and happened upon this enchanter, Zaren,” Reza said, finally motioning somewhat reluctantly to the old man, who, up until that point, hadn’t seemed interested in the least to the report Reza was giving.

  “Zaren Zebulon, Seal Keeper of Darendul, High Arbiter of the Order of the Bolt.”

  Though Metus seemed to keep his composure better than his steward, it was obvious to the group that both Leith and Metus had heard of their aloof companion.

  “It is an honor to welcome a Seal Keeper and a High Arbiter under our humble roof. What a pleasure,” Metus said, bowing his head, clasping his hands together, Leith following suit.

  “Rarely do Seal Keepers leave their places of power. Many years ago, as I understand it, the Darendul order considered settling here, but chose to settle in Brigganden instead for social-political reasons. We’ve always attempted to maintain a positive relationship with the Darendul, even though we’ve had our, sometimes extreme, differences with Brigganden. It’s good to welcome even a servant of the order, let alone the Seal Keeper to our capital. You are always welcome here.”

  Reza at least attempted to conceal a confused glance back at Zaren, but the rest of the group openly showed their surprise.

  Zaren, holding up a hand, waved off the usual display of generous hospitalities shown to him from rulers and magistrates who knew the importance of his station and bade Reza to continue with her report, interested even less in Metus’ offers and praise than he was in Reza’s report.

  Gladly getting back to her report, Reza continued.

  “Fin and Jadu came to learn that Zaren had a great deal of information on the occupying enemy force and they convinced him to return to the officer’s quarters to relay that information to me.

  “He did so, but during the meeting, our location was compromised. Arisen swarmed the wing we were in and we fought our way out to link up with Bede and Nomad.”

  Reza paused a moment, deciding how best to phrase the next part of the report so that she would be able to get through the emotionally heavy details without compromising her composure. She was already completely exhausted, and with the added task of having to detail the fall of her friend before everyone was going to be difficult, she knew.


  “We came upon Nomad who was engaged in combat with an evil cleric, and Bede—was dead by the time we arrived. I still don’t know the full details of what transpired with Nomad and Bede’s mission. Perhaps he can tell us himself, but we were forced to retreat. The cleric was too powerful for us to effectively combat in our wounded state, and the cleric’s master showed up then, preventing me from retrieving Bede’s body.

  “We traveled as quick as we could to come here. It’s only been two nights since we left Brigganden, and we came in a hurry, risking a great deal to deliver vital information regarding the enemy’s size and their motives, but most importantly, their imminent plans to march upon the Plainstate.”

  Metus, though he seemed crestfallen after the news of Bede’s demise, continued to pay attention intently to Reza’s report till the end, sitting back in his grand chair, taking a steadying breath before speaking.

  “Though I have known you, Reza, and Fin and Cavok, for a few wonderful years, Bede, as you know, was the one that introduced all of us to each other. She had served as my advisor to the small number of Elendium followers we have in the Plainstate since I have been in power. There’s only a few flagging congregations within all the Plainstate, and her role wasn’t of great import in a regional sense, but she, out of all my religious council, I could relate with. A wonderful sister of the faith, and a brave, strong woman. Never once did she let her years show, and I’m grieved to hear that she’s left us.

  “You may know better than I of what type of proceedings would be appropriate to pay respects to her. Let’s discuss them together after we discuss the details of the imminent threat you mentioned from this arisen army.”

  Reza nodded, agreeing to get through the rest of the threat of invasion she had hinted at first before discussing what he could do for Bede further.

  “By our estimation, and Zaren’s count, the arisen force consists of a few thousand soldiers. We had encounters with all three of their leaders and know two of them by name.