by G M Archer
“Don’t let it touch the map!” I yelled, “Catch it!”
“Catch it?!” Alexandra shouted, the Journeyer dodging me and running at the map.
“It owes me some answers!” I grabbed for it again, and it faltered.
I got my hands around its torso as it touched the map. Both of us fell, with me landing on top of it. I stopped. We were in an abandoned courtyard, ivy winding over the place and the crumbling buildings around us. The owl statue was so overgrown it was almost unrecognizable
Through the dilapidated building beside us I caught a glance of a familiar place. I gasped, the castle spires winding up into a clear sky.
I grabbed the Journeyer’s shoulders, “We’re in Forscythe!?”
Silent, it slowly reached backwards, hand eventually touching the statue.
We came crashing down beside the table. The Journeyer wriggled free of my grip, bounded over the table and disappeared into the map room.
It was gone by the time I reached the doorway.
“Where did it go?” I ran up to the map.
Alexandra was breathing heavily, “It looked like it went to the library.”
“Not Forscythe?” I stopped, panting similarly.
“No, why would you think that?” She scrunched her eyebrows.
“Because that’s where it took me,” I regarded the owl statue in the lower parts of the capital, aware that I could now use it.
“Why did it take you there?” She looked at me.
“I don’t know,” I glanced back and the painting room, “I wonder how long it’s been using this.”
“With as silent as it is, it could have been sneaking right under our noses,” she crossed her arms.
I grabbed her shoulder, “C’mon, let’s go see Joseph.”
“I can see why you’re frustrated at him not believing you,” Alexandra said, and we came to a halt in the library, Neve’s dogs still watching expectantly.
Joseph was waiting along with them, and as I opened my mouth to tell him of our encounter, he started speaking.
“There are soldiers from the east here to see you,” Joseph said.
“Varrick’s soldiers?” I asked nervously.
“Not from what Neve said,” Joseph shrugged, “Or what her dog said, I should say.”
“Alright,” I made sure the strap of my swords was tight, and started to follow him out, “Let’s go.”
Alexandra turned to go back into the library, “I suppose it goes without saying to be careful.”
“Like always, Alex,” Joseph waved as we exited.
Joseph and I walked down through the city at a brisk pace, watching a crowd of people gathered around two men. We paused when we got to the square, watching to try to discern what was happening.
I caught a few glimpses of the newcomers, younger men in ragged soldier uniforms, the wolf on their breastplates so dented and scratched it was almost undiscernible. The horses the stable master led away looked similarly battle worn.
Joseph turned to the nearest man, “Who are they?” he asked.
The man turned, “They are the drafted sons of some of our men,” he pointed to two weeping older men embracing the soldiers.
“Why are they here?” Joseph asked.
“They come from the Shadow Fort, to the east of here, in the Witchwood swamps,” the man informed, “They caught the men we ran from the city. They came to see if their hometown was truly free,” he motioned to me, “and they wanted to meet whoever freed it. They are working with a man named Legion, who is leading a revolution.”
Joseph looked at the soldiers, stroking his beard, “You say they come from the Shadow Fort, who did they serve under?”
“General Hale,” the man answered, then turned away, talking to the boy beside him.
“I know General Hale,” Joseph told me, continuing to scratch his chin, “He’s an old friend.”
“That’s good,” I said, “That could work in our favor.”
Joseph nodded.
I heard my name somewhere in the crowd, it was then repeated several times, the heads of those present turning towards us.
One of the soldiers stepped forward, “So you are Atlas, the warrior princess with a giant rooster?”
“My reputation is accurate,” I gave a crooked grin.
“I thank you for freeing my people,” he extended his hand.
I shook it, “Your people freed themselves.”
The people around us smiled.
“My name is Finn,” he gave a slight bow after shaking my hand, “I serve at the Shadow Fort under General Hale.”
“So I have heard,” I said, “Please tell me who this ‘Legion’ is that I’ve heard about as well,” I prompted.
“He is anxious to meet you after what we’ve heard from the captured guards. He is a fellow forerunner of the revolution. He is an adept leader, and a skilled warrior. He has plans to topple Varrick, and kill Lafayette. He is in league with an equally clever woman named Monica, and means to place her on the throne after our current king falls,” Finn explained.
A pang ran through me, almost jealously, but I had no right to such emotions. I was not entitled to the throne, nor had I ever been, I was again a false heir. Being nominated by a Forsaken and a bandit didn’t change that.
“I’m very anxious to meet them both,” I said with a smile.
“Excellent,” he gave a similar grin, “The General needs your assistance as well, with your experience with the fantastical. Would you be ready to depart in the morrow, or will you need more time?” he asked.
I looked back at Joseph.
“We could be ready,” he nodded, “But what are you talking about referring to our experience?”
“We heard that you slayed a shadow monster?” Finn asked.
“Supposedly,” Joseph said through his moustache.
“Between that and the giant bird, your knowledge would be helpful,” Finn said.
“With what?” I glanced back at Joseph.
Finn shifted, “It’s hard to explain, you’ll have to see when you get there.”
“Let me guess, it’s deadly?” Joseph muttered.
“You’ll be fine as long as you’re not in the swamp at night,” Finn assured, “Will you go?”
I looked at Joseph.
He shrugged, sighing, “I’m ready when you are.”
I nodded back at Finn, he imitated the motion.
“We will depart eastward at noon, then, meet at the stables,” he turned back, starting to discuss with the crowd which Voltaren men would accompany us.
I looked back at Joseph.
“Here we go again,” he gave a long-winded sigh.
Chapter 16- We Wade Through the Mysteries of another Age
I opened my eyes to a balcony overlooking a magnificent city of guided roofs and shining marble arches, colorfully dressed people mingling through the streets below.
“Hello, Atlas.” Icarus was lounged at my side, wings splayed and a tray of fruit at his side.
“Icarus,” I watched the city, eyes trained on a group of children winding ribbon around a pole, “Long time, no see.”
He shrugged nonchalantly, “You were doing fine on your own.”
I squinted at the people. Some would vanish, others would repeat the same motion over and over again. The outer edges of the city were blurry, as if out of focus.
“Where are we?” I turned to Icarus.
“A memory,” he rolled a grape around in his fingers and ate it, “A distant reminisce of my home.”
Plants harmonized with mankind’s work, the palace around us covered in luscious gardens, as beautifully cultivated as the stonework. The actual structure behind us appeared to be made of gold, almost blinding in the sunlight.
“Where?” I leaned on the rail, a breeze trailing through, “Where was your kingdom located?”
He made a motion with his palm flat in the air, “To the Southwest of Viafinis. Its actual name is irrelevant. History, no legends call it
Atlantis. It seems to be popular belief that it sunk into the Ocean. Ironic, considering that it was burned to the ground,” he ate another grape, “It was the last city of magic.”
He stood and pointed to a courtyard below, where men rode several different giant animals: large stags, a lion, a wolf, and even a rabbit.
“Your rooster is one of such animals. Enchanted to be mounts that could outmatch any horse. My cavalry dominated the ground with ancient enchantments and my uncle’s inventions, and I the sky,” he motioned upwards, then to the river and bay at the back of the city, “And Nemo and his machine ruled the waters.”
“It-It burned? What happened?” I looked at him.
His hands curled into fist, face lost in the shadow of his helm, “It was taken from me.”
I turned to him quickly, but chose my words carefully, “The Journeyer,” I paused as he stiffened, “Said my father . . . killed you.”
Icarus faltered, “He did far more than that.”
The city before us was consumed in smoke, the magnificent buildings flaring out the red glow of the fires. The peoples’ screams rose from the streets below. Gunshots and cannon-fire crashed to the sound of collapsing structures. The smoke rose and swirled, consumed the entire city.
I put my arms over my face, the smoke rising and clearing away as I opened my eyes again. Only the castle remained, a piece of altered reality. The city below was in ruins, the metal roofs twisted and melted over the scarce remains of the buildings. No movement could be seen except for the circling patches of ash.
I gripped the balcony, “He-he was the one that burned the city?”
Icarus nodded slowly, waving his hand out.
The ashen remnants turned into a forest, only a few pieces of crumbling stone in the undergrowth the only sign that there was ever anything there.
“Why? Why would he do that?” I asked.
“You ask such questions about a man that lives with nothing but a desire to destroy. He let one of his children be thrown in a gutter and keeps the other to mock him as his manservant,” Icarus put his head in his hand, wings slumped behind him, gazing down pitifully at the wilderness.
“I- I have a brother?” my eyes widened, “Did you just say I have a brother?”
“All answers will come in time,” Icarus said in his mystic voice.
“No! Don’t do that to me! Tell me!” I balled my hands into fists.
He looked away from me, off into the distance. I wasn’t going to get an answer out of him.
“No, no, wait,” I backed up, “Those are Shar Oaks, they take centuries to grow,” I pointed to the aforementioned trees.
“Indeed, the same time it takes for something to be forgotten or dismissed as legend,” Icarus drummed his fingers on his helm.
“No. If this all happened centuries ago, the man you are speaking of cannot be my father. You are lying to me,” I waited expectantly.
“That’s the hardest part to explain,” he shifted.
“Why don’t you try?” I was growing more irritated by the second.
He looked down, then flinched, “I know, I’m working on it, I got distracted!”
It took a moment to realize he wasn’t talking to me.
He twitched again, crying out, his wings jerking and twisting.
“Who are you talking to?” I took a step back.
Icarus started yelling, but it drowned to nothing as the woods below shattered, our balcony disappeared. The breath was almost knocked out of me as I hit greyed stone, darkness around me. I gasped, gripping my shoulder and writhing.
I looked sideways, blue flame burning on roots, and everything descended into a chaos.
A dragon crashed through burning branches, fire flaring over explosions and splintered wood and rubble. All throughout the cavern things busted and flared, a chorus of roars drowning out everything else.
Dragons. It was a hoard of dragons.
It was a mess of rage and wings and claws. Blistering blue fire rocketed through the air, and my scream was lost somewhere in it. Shrapnel flew through me like I was a ghost, but I still scrambled back, trying to grasp the whole scene.
A movement caught my eye to my side. A man ran down the platform of stone to my right, nothing but his silhouette visible in the madness. The pistols he wielded shot blue glowing bullets into the flames, striking down one of the beasts.
A dragon crashed down beside me, fire dripping from its maw, wings impaled on the shattered braches. I could swear its eyes locked on me as the light flicked and died within them.
The man to my right dropped his guns, jumping and drawing swords of Moontear, the blades immediately swept from his hands, impaled in the neck of one of the great thrashing wyrms. A dragon twisted down and spewed flames over his form, nothing but a smoldering mark on the stone where he’d stood.
There was silence for a moment, the flickering flames and my labored breathing the only sound. I looked up slowly. The cavern above was filled with branches stretching off into an infinite darkness, attached to a trunk the size of a kingdom. Seemingly hundreds of pairs of slitted violet eyes gazed downward.
Where had I seen this place? One of the Icarus dreams?
Ashes swirled around the scorch mark, reassuming the form of a man’s body. The dragons screamed as he ran forward and picked up one of his blades, running for the beast that had incinerated him. Hysteria reined again, the dragons slithering wildly through the branches.
“NO,” a voice commanded over it all, primarily male, but with the echo of an army behind it.
The scene shifted, and morphed into a familiar camp, a regular colored bonfire before me. I looked around, men seated on the benches around it. There were no recognizable faces, only glassy eyes and impassive features.
I looked down, a feeble pair of rusted sword in my hands. I glanced around again, brands exposed on a few bare chests, an ugly glaring scar. The Journeyer sit impassively in a tree above. I could not feel its gaze like usual.
I look a look back, Icarus now on the other side of the fire.
He transformed into Maul, his red hair flashing in the firelight. His face twisted into a demented grin and he stepped forward, picking up the bladed mace.
“No, wait!” I held up the swords in front of me.
He rose the mace, and swung. It crashed directly through my blades, coming down and-
I woke up with a scream, Alexandra bursting in seconds later.
“Are you alright?” she jerked the cover off and looked me over.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” I insisted, “Just a nightmare”
I pulled my hair from my face, in a cold sweat.
She put her hands on her hips, I couldn’t deceive her, “About what?”
“Maul’s camp,” I said, a partial truth, “Except I lost.”
“So I heard,” she narrowed her eyes, “Anything else?”
I shook my head, “Not really.”
I didn’t have her fully convinced, but it would do for now.
She helped me finish packing, not taking much besides the essentials, Joseph carried the rest. We were provided other rations by the people of Voltaren, and those fit in our saddlebags.
Alexandra also carefully mapped out each of the statues on our path, and Joseph and I were left musing over excuses to go to them. We had a sentimental parting, and then left the Library of Souls to join the questing group.
Our company included the two soldiers from before, an assorted group of Voltaren men and women that could spare horses, and a covered cart intended for the purpose of hiding Ram if needed along the route. The townspeople gathered to watch us go, people of every age giving us a hero’s farewell.
The girls from before presented me with a new flower crown, Winsland gave us sugar candies, and the tailor gifted us all gloves and hats for the passage through the mountains. I kept my cloak pinned in the front to hide the rooster on my chest.
We had scarcely made it out of Voltaren when Joseph pointed out a large bird on the horizo
n.
One of the men in the front handed me back a scope and I watched, confirming that it was a raven.
“Should we shoot it?” Finn asked.
The man across from him untied his bow.
I looked through the scope again, the bird a mess of feathers, its flight labored and erratic, “It doesn’t look like it’ll make it much further, shot or not,” I raised an eyebrow.
I passed the scope up and let them pass it around.
“Wait,” Finn told the archer, “Let’s see if it goes to Voltaren.”
“That has to be its course,” I said, “It would have already gone northward if it were headed for Rayvock or some other settlement.”
We continued to move at a leisure pace, watching it come.
“Shoot it,” Finn said, “I want to know what it says and if it’s important someone can run back into town and carry on the message.”
The archer drew and fired, missing the bird by several feet. The raven flew a bit further then froze midair, plummeting like a stone. The archer relaxed his bow and we moved aside as the bird smashed into the ground with a sickening crack of its bones and a cloud of dust.
Joseph made a disgusted face, dismounting his horse, “Did Varrick threaten to execute it if it didn’t deliver as fast as he wanted?”
I gave a dry laugh.
He grabbed the raven’s wing, attempting to pull it over. Its feathers ripped free as he tried to move it.
Joseph looked disturbed, “It’s like it’s been dead for a while,” he grabbed its body and flipped it over, “It’s coming apart like its decaying.”
Several of the people in the group shared troubled looks.
“A dead rotting raven, that’s a great omen,” I muttered sarcastically.
Joseph looked up at me, “The letter is addressed to you,” he pointed to the bands on the bird’s legs.
I dismounted Ram, walking over and pulling the letter from it’s sheathe.
My name was inscribed sideways in a handwriting I did not recognize.
I unrolled the small piece of parchment.
Two simple words.
