The forest floor to his right exploded; dirt and plants showered the area around him. Through the rain of debris, he spotted claws raking toward him. It was too late; he could not parry in time. The sharp claws sliced into Faolan’s left shoulder, and he yelled in pain.
The attack was real.
The mole-like tunneler ripped its claws out of Faolan’s shoulder and attacked again with its other clawed paw. Faolan parried with one sword and returned a lightning bolt into the tunneler’s chest, but the lightning did nothing. The hair on the mole demon’s chest disintegrated, but the armored skin protected it from further damage.
Faolan ducked under a third attack from the demon and counterattacked by striking the tunneler’s abdomen with a sword as he spun underneath the widely spread claws. Yet again his attack failed to do damage to the demon. His sword simply bounced off the demon’s armored exterior.
Faolan stepped back and changed his tactic, spinning his swords in his hands to where they still faced forward but the tri-teeth pointed downward, an aggressive handling.
The tunneler charged anew.
Faolan dodged the incoming attack and reeled his left blade back as he saw his opening. He moved in, and with a wide arcing strike, Faolan’s left set of tri-teeth pierced the demon’s side. He did not hesitate, ripping the tri-teeth back out of the demon’s skin and skipping backward just in time to dodge another incoming attack.
Faolan’s left shoulder was in pain from the bloody wound, but the pain did not faze him. Not because it did not hurt, but because he had grown accustomed to the feeling from all the torment he had survived, numbing his mind. The sensation was pain, but to Faolan it felt more like a deep, annoying itch he could not scratch. He almost welcomed the familiar sensation.
Faolan dodged two more attacks, then rolled to the side, piercing the demon’s back with his right sword’s tri-teeth. The tunneler whipped its thick arm around and slammed it into Faolan’s chest.
He fell on his back and heaved for air, his one blade still deep in the demon’s back. His lungs had collapsed under the strike’s force, winded by the demon’s unexpected defense.
The tunneler was on him in a second and swung a heavy fist toward Faolan’s skull. He lifted his remaining sword in a hasty defense, barely catching the tunneler’s descending fist and deflecting its momentum off to the side. The tunneler’s fist slammed into the ground next to Faolan’s head, and dirt flew up in a cloud.
Faolan whipped his left blade around and buried the sword’s tri-teeth into the tunneler’s neck. The tunneler’s eyes rolled back, and a last breath was released from its lungs. The tunneler collapsed on Faolan, and he groaned from the heavy body landing on top of him.
He rolled the dead weight off him and stood up. He labored to catch his breath as he leaned down, ripping his blades out of the tunneler’s flesh. He was almost pleased by the sound they made. He slammed one blade’s tri-teeth back into the dead flesh in unquenchable anger, not quite done with his deceased adversary.
Faolan leaned down and whispered to the tunneler. “I will find you . . . and I will kill you every time you return.”
He ripped his blade out of the tunneler with finality.
Faolan pulled up his hood and pushed away the endless shadows dancing on the fringes of his sight. He was pulling away from the world, enclosing himself within his mind as the rage within boiled.
He left the tunneler where it had died and continued south through the increasingly charred and dying forest as snickering hallucinations echoed from the forest surrounding him.
Chapter 16
The Storm
An anchor will be needed in the raging storm as waves grow and the winds howl.
The Ikalreev Prophecies 22:19
Minor attacks had begun against the doors of Lesley. Claw marks littered the giant gate’s exterior. A few stones from the outer wall were missing from where demons had tried to climb, now strewn across the farms beyond Lesley’s gate. Hundreds of soldiers stood watch on the walls, waiting for the next assault. Decaying demon bodies plagued the grounds beyond the outer wall, staining the dirt with their black blood and rendering barren any tainted ground.
A soldier atop the outer gate shouted, “Someone is approaching! Eyes up! Arrows at the ready!”
The lone hooded figure walked toward the gate. He wore a black cloak intricately woven with a unique red pattern. His walk was unsteady, and his head was down.
One soldier eyed the shrouded figure and shouted to his commanding officer, “It is a Shadow Guardian! I see the crest!”
The soldier was correct as there was a small crest atop his hood at forehead height.
The commanding officer shouted down to his men below, “Open the gates!”
The massive outer doors creaked and groaned as they opened.
The commanding officer recognized the colors on the guardian’s clothing and shouted to his men, “Make way for the Shadow Guardian! Give a wide path!” He turned to a subordinate and said, “Go inform General Baskla.”
The subordinate ran off.
The Shadow Guardian entered the gates, and the tall doors closed behind him. The guardian did not stop, walking up the main road toward the castle. Soldiers glanced at him from afar and kept their hands on their hilts. The lone guardian’s hood turned toward a nearby group of soldiers, and the lot of them jumped back when they saw the glowing white eyes beneath the hood.
One soldier spoke out of the corner of his mouth in a hushed tone. “I am not sure about this one. Saalkain is scary enough.”
Another soldier whispered, “Are they all like that?”
The enshrouded figure shifted his gaze forward again, missing the rest of the conversation. He walked through the open inner gate and entered the forge and trade district of Lesley.
Faolan stopped as he looked around. The city looked different to him. There used to be a group of shops farther up the path and off to his left that had been destroyed. They had been replaced with a small watchtower amid the debris. A dozen archers stood atop its stand. It was nowhere near high enough to see over the wall. Faolan looked to his right and saw a heavy ballista resting where a forge used to exist. The ballista was loaded and pointed toward the inner gateway.
Faolan heard something bouncing toward him. He glanced forward and spotted a bouncing green ball. It rolled to a stop in front of his feet. Then, unexpectedly, a small being ran into him: a girl, maybe seven years old.
“Excuse me,” the human girl said. “I did not mean to.”
The girl grabbed her ball, looked up at the cloaked man, and saw the bloodred pattern of vines on his clothes and their sharp thorns, laid over the black background. As she took in the sight, she grew scared, and her breathing deepened.
Faolan’s eyes glowed bright white beneath the hood’s shadows, peering out intensely at her.
The girl screamed, and she dropped her ball, running away terrified. “Help! It’s a demon! Help!”
Several soldiers ran to her aid.
“Where?” one soldier shouted at her.
“Over there!” She pointed toward Faolan.
A dozen soldiers approached the guardian with caution. Their pikes and swords were positioned at the ready.
What Faolan was sensing only made it worse for him as he no longer witnessed reality. He had receded too far within his mind, allowing hallucinations to weave through his sight and hearing. To Faolan, the soldiers before him appeared as demons, humanoid with two large recurved horns over their heads. Their weapons took on more sinister forms, gnarled appendages. In his eyes, the ground was on fire, and the sky was black. The little girl looked like a small imp, just like the one he had killed in the Pass of the Forgotten Kings. Faolan’s fractured mind could not differentiate reality from hallucination as they blended to make a dreadful landscape.
The archers on top of the small watchtower looked like flyers crouching atop a dead tree, and the ballistae looked like an evil war machine. Buildings were on fire, and he heard sc
reams in the distance.
A whisper slipped from Faolan’s lips. “Lesley is destroyed. My friends are gone. Aili . . .”
Lightning shot out of Faolan’s hand and struck the ground. “Why? Why?” His voice grew louder and filled with rage.
“Why, what?” one fearful soldier asked. “Please calm down, sir!”
“Why have you stolen her from me?” Faolan whispered.
A soldier eyed Faolan’s shoulder. “Sir, we can get you a healer. We just need you to calm down. No one is going to hurt you.”
Faolan could not hear the soldier’s words. “Am I the only one left?” he asked as a tear rolled down his cheek.
A lightning bolt struck one of the soldiers, and his body went limp. The elf fell on his back, unconscious but shielded from death by his breastplate.
“Sir! I am warning you! Calm down!” the lead soldier shouted at deaf ears.
“He has lost it! He is mad!” another soldier said.
“Quiet!” a commanding officer roared. Baskla entered the fray with Caedmon at his heels.
“Faolan!” Caedmon said. “You are alive!”
“Careful! He is not right!” the lead soldier shouted.
The soldier was correct: when Faolan saw General Baskla, his mind associated the general’s bulky armor with a tunneler’s bulky frame. Caedmon appeared as one of the birdlike demons, a humanoid but with four eyes, a serrated beak, and a lizard-like tail with twin spiraling horns above its head.
“If I have to, I will put him down.” Baskla drew his great sword.
“Wait!” Caedmon said.
“What?”
Aili peeked out at Faolan from behind Caedmon.
Faolan’s eyes locked on her face. “Aili . . .”
His hallucinations shattered when a single thread of reality entered his senses. The images of demons and fire melted away. The moon appeared in the night sky, and reality surrounded him.
“Aili?” Faolan said hesitantly.
“Yes,” Aili answered, and stepped forward. “It is I.”
Faolan’s eyes stopped glowing as he lowered his hood. “Are you real?”
She grabbed one of his hands and touched it to her cheek. She let him feel her smooth skin. “Yes, I am real. I am here, Faolan.”
He caressed her cheek and looked into her eyes. He began to cry. She is alive! He grabbed her and pulled her close in a tight embrace.
Aili smiled as her chin rested on his shoulder, and her arms wrapped around his waist.
Faolan’s eyes rose to meet Caedmon’s, as he now understood his surroundings, and acknowledged the wolf guardian’s presence.
Baskla turned around so Faolan could not see his face. The general approached Caedmon and whispered into the wolf’s ear, “Your boy is dangerous. Keep him away from my men.”
Caedmon heard the underlying threat.
Baskla dismissed his men and walked back toward the castle. “Get a healer for this soldier. Now!”
Caedmon watched the two reunited lovebirds as they held each other and wondered what Faolan had gone through and how he had survived it. He had so many questions for the Shadow Guardian who had been lost for so long, but they would have to wait. He was unsure of Faolan’s health, and this confrontation cast doubt on his mental stability.
After Faolan and Aili reluctantly separated, the three of them made their way to the castle.
A short distance away from the intense encounter, in a narrow alleyway between houses, stood the little girl who had run into Faolan, snickering. She hid in the shadows away from prying eyes, her aura darkening as her voice transformed.
“That was fun,” the girl giggled. Her appearance changed and shifted into a small black-skinned imp. Its nose and ears were pointy. It had tiny hands with miniature claws.
“Let’s go have some more fun,” the little imp said, and shifted into a new form.
◆◆◆
Faolan’s eyes fluttered open as he looked up at a stone ceiling, unable to remember where he had fallen asleep. He felt a presence to his right, and he glanced over. Aili was sleeping next to him in the wide, comfy bed. He saw tapestries hanging on the walls and a nightstand sitting to either side of the bed with candles on them. There was a wooden door on the room’s right side, on the other side of Aili.
Faolan glanced down at her beautiful face and smiled at her peaceful expression. Suddenly, a thought dawned on him. He was able to sleep. He had no night terrors. He had not woken up screaming. It was a good feeling. A feeling he had not felt in a very long time.
Aili’s eyes opened, and she looked up at him. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Faolan said in return. “I still cannot believe you are alive.”
“I am just as surprised you are alive,” she said. “For weeks, I thought you were dead.”
Faolan lowered his eyes as memories rose. “I thought I was too . . . for years . . .”
Aili sat up and tilted her head as she tried to catch his eyes with hers. “Where have you been all this time, Faolan?”
He tried to spare her the horrible imagery but said, “I was chained in a dungeon.”
“A dungeon. By who?” she wondered.
“Telfaldetrous. The first one to emerge from the seal.”
Aili remembered the name. “What did they feed you?”
“They did not feed me anything.”
“How did you eat then?” Aili said, not quite understanding.
“I did not eat.”
“What? How is that possible?”
“I cannot explain it . . . but I did not eat. I did not drink. And the sun and moon in my waking terrors have been fake for four years,” he said with a distant gaze.
Aili still did not understand. She was trying to wrap her mind around what he was saying. “Four years? What are you talking about? You have only been gone for six weeks, Faolan.”
“I know that now, but at the time it felt like I had endured the torture for four years. Four years in that dungeon.” He closed his eyes as the terrible memories resurfaced in his mind. “Four years with no food, no water, no sleep, and all the pain you could never want.”
Aili touched his chin and lifted his face. Faolan opened his eyes in response and looked at her.
“I do not understand what you went through. It sounds awful, but it is over now. You are here with me. You made it home.” Aili smiled. “And I will always be here for you. I love you, Faolan.”
He smiled at her comforting words. “I love you, too, Aili.”
She leaned in and kissed him. Her warm lips pressed against his.
A clap sounded from the room’s corner, and a stranger said, “Touching.”
They were both startled and looked toward the voice’s origin.
Saalkain sat in a chair in the far corner of the room. He was obnoxiously clapping for them.
“Two lovers reunited.” Saalkain stood up.
“Who are you?” Faolan asked.
“Saalkain.” He bowed. “I just wanted to meet a fellow Shadow Guardian; we are a rare breed.”
“How did you get in here?”
“How?” Saalkain questioned himself. “A mystery. Those are fun to solve.”
“What do you want, Saalkain?” Aili was annoyed by the intrusion.
Saalkain’s hood hid his sly smile. “Want?” Saalkain shook his head. “I want nothing.”
“Why are you here?” Faolan wondered.
“To provide a warning.” Saalkain paused. “Baskla is not fond of our kind and seeks to undermine us.” Saalkain started to walk toward the right wall. “Watch your back, Guardian, or a dagger might find it.”
Saalkain walked through the wall and left the room through solid stone.
Faolan was stunned. “Who is that guy?”
“He is an assassin and a Shadow Guardian,” Aili said.
“He can just walk through walls?” Faolan exclaimed.
“Among other things. His magic is unusual because he studied with Falcarna wizards. They reside in the
south on the Illianar Isles beyond elven land.”
“Is he the only other Shadow Guardian here in Lesley?”
“Yes. He was the only Shadow Guardian to answer the call. There was one other Shadow Guardian who appeared for a short time, but she did not stay. They say she is the strongest mortal in all Verdunmull. It would have been nice if she had stayed, though I supposed you cannot contain a Blood-Kin Battle Magi.”
“Blood-Kin Battle Magi, what is that?”
“They do not really fit a classification, according to our scholars, but that is what they prefer to be called. They are both sorcerers and mages in one but do not wish to be called wizards. They are born with powerful innate magical abilities and can create their own magics, but they can also take knowledge from outside sources and mold anything into magic. They are supremely powerful and revered warriors. They hail from the Kalnor Vale, and their blood-bonding magic is what gives them part of their name,” Aili said.
“I have never heard of them before,” he said with an inquisitive look.
“She is the only one I have seen. Other than her, their kind stays in the Kalnor Vale and the regions in the northwest.”
“What is her name?” he asked.
“Alexi.”
“Does she have a last name?”
“No. Everyone knows her by just the one name.”
Faolan wanted to learn more about the unique magic wielders and wondered about their capabilities. Maybe one day he would meet this Alexi and ask her all the questions he had about the Blood-Kin Battle Magi and why she refused to aid the elves in their time of need.
He changed the subject for now.
“Who is General Baskla?” Faolan asked.
“He is the grand war general of the Harmaalinnian army. Before all this, he was stationed down on the border near the troll lands, along with half the army and General Lyvnevar. The forest elves have been at war with the trolls and ogres for years, and their presence kept them at bay or met them in battle. That is, until recently.”
The First Seal Page 17