Reign of Phyre

by Nicholas Cooper

  Put simply, Cerenea was healing. That, or Yelia’s will was waning. Perhaps it was a sign that said, ‘Now is the time to prove yourselves, my sons.’ Whatever it was, it was open to interpretation. But the fact that the Desari was shrinking was not. Rhen wasn’t sure how the Yaleans had crossed Mishval’s Schism, but Kiern had said that some Euphyrians had settled in Yalea before the invasion. He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter.

  “I guess this means, at some point, there will be a crossroads between Karzark and Yalea.”

  “Perhaps. Who knows what is to come? For now, though, I think it is safe to say that we’re on the same side. You want to find the Dawn Shield, you want to see Reilek dead, and you want to live. We want you to find the Dawn Shield, see Reilek dead, and for you to live. I’d say that makes us allies, no?”

  Well, when you put that way… “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Doesn’t mean I don’t disagree with a lot of things though.”

  “I should hope not. I wouldn’t want to have a lot in common with a Karzarki.” He had that smile. That same smile that Levi had nearly killed him over.

  “Hey, there’s a stairway that goes beneath the statue. I think we’re allowed in. Want to check it out?” It wasn’t a secret, but it was still looked interesting. He had never been to Rulven before, and this temple was a rather spectacular sight.

  “Sure.” There were two signs at the entrance. One said the use of torches was prohibited. The other… something about finding yourself.

  The two slowly descended into a corridor. In the absence of light, there was pitch black to keep them company. There would be some meaning to this, if they had read the sign properly. All they had was their hands to feel around for the path.

  “This seems fun. Wonder why this is here,” Kiern said as he took the lead, “Here, put your hand on my shoulder.”

  “I’ve got one working hand. Get behind me. You put a hand on my shoulder instead.”

  “Ah, right.” They felt around in the dark, their hands guiding them around several corners, looking for a purpose to this passageway. There was only one path, so it wasn’t a maze. Rhen felt around the walls some more with his good hand and felt something that made him stop. Kiern bumped into him.

  “Why’d you stop?”

  “Give me a second.” Rhen traced over the wall again with his fingers, just like he had done in the Desari, and just like then, he felt a symbol. And then another. “There is writing here. Engraved. Chiselled.”

  “Can you read it?”

  “It’s pitch black. No. And no, I don’t think you can bring down a torch. I saw it on the sign. Damn. I won’t remember these by the time I have something to write on.” Rhen heard the sound of Kiern unsheathing a dagger. His world stopped. Here, in the darkness, betrayed. He had found a clue and was deemed no longer necessary.

  “I guess if you need it, blood makes for ink?”

  The sigh of relief preceded the calming of his heartbeat by a good amount. Kiern seemed to notice. “You’d be dead already if we wanted you dead.”

  “Kiern the Just. I’ll make sure Karzark builds that statue for you. Right. It’s not like you could have suggested that without giving me a heart attack or anything, you arse. Well, we can’t just leave here covered in blood, so what do you propose?” Whether they wrote it in their flesh or on their clothes, the result would be the same. People would see. Surely there was a better option.

  Kiern wasn’t forthcoming with suggestions, so Rhen had to pick up his slack. “Blood won’t do. Give me your dagger. I will etch it into my arm.”

  If they had more time, Rhen was sure he could think of something better but, this seemed like it would work. He’d have to be careful how hard he pressed, for he knew Kiern’s dagger would be sharper than his problem-solving capabilities.

  “Alright, but if you even think of betraying me here, my other dagger will find you first, my Karzarki friend.”

  “I wouldn’t tarnish this temple with Yalean blood anyway.” He couldn’t see it, but Rhen was sure that smile was on Kiern’s face.

  “No, but I’m sure the temple wouldn’t mind a bit of Karzarki blood.”

  Rhen pressed his hand against the stone and traced over the engraved symbol. He was bestowed with a memory that most learned men would be envious of, and he would need to make use of it today. Etching these symbols into his arm would be inaccurate at best; he would need to rely on his visualising of the symbols. One symbol at a time, he etched into his left arm.

  It was difficult to tell how deep he cut. He supposed it was a good sign that his arm didn’t feel wet. He hoped he had left enough space between the symbols, without them overlapping. The last symbol had just enough room to fit on his hand. Carving into his palm reminded his nerve endings of what torture they had been through and he winced, the darkness graciously hiding his pain from Kiern.

  “Alright, I’m done. Let’s head back. You have your secret meeting you’re not going to tell me about, and I have my secret message to decode that I’m not going to tell you about.”

  “Hey, don’t make me remind you ab-”

  “Yes yes, I know. I prefer no more broken body parts. I’ll let you know. Now, let’s go.”

  Once they surfaced, Rhen dared a glance at his arm. Fortunately, no blood had seeped through into his sleeve, but he would keep the sleeve down until he was safe in his room. He wasn’t sure of the meaning, but he was pretty sure he didn’t want to let any of the people gathered in the temple to see either by being impatient.

  The exit had led them to the opposite side of the temple. The statue of Yalea showed them the way they came, but it gave Rhen a good indication of how big this temple really was. He would have loved to look upon this city from where he stood in its glory days, at the height of Pyre’s reign. Dawn was breaking from the east, and for the first time in his life he could see the marvel that was one of Pyre’s famed Citadels. Standing on top of the hill at the Great Temple, looking down at all of Rulven…he would remember this moment.

  He noticed on this far side of the temple the Pyresian architects had masterfully carved statues of Pyresian soldiers in place of columns. Each of them was unique; their faces, height, armour, age. The soldiers stood at attention: their shields and spears at the ready. Their positioning however, was strange. They were not facing inward or outward, or even towards the statue of Yelia. Judging by dawn’s sun, they were facing north-east. Tannis jumped to the forefront of his mind, but that seemed too convenient. He’d need to think about it later. First, he needed to uncover what the message etched into his arm meant. When they arrived back at their lodging, Rhen went straight to his room, while Kiern went looking for Reisch.

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  The Harbingers of the Calamity have perhaps left a greater mark than any other in recorded history. Many details of their tale eluded scholars and scribes of their day, and so it is with great sadness that we must accept, therefore, that their tale has eluded those who have lived in the centuries after the fall of the Elders. This fact has not stopped fantastical accounts of their tale appear in all corners of the world, from alleged oracles, descendants, and others who would stake a claim in uncovering our lost past. Unfortunately, these accounts are really all that is left to the records, and so the most learned among us should aspire to piece together all accounts to confer and discard until a clear picture of truth can show itself.

  At this point in time, there are few facts of which we are certain, or command a working degree of certainty that assumptions can be made with a satisfactory degree of accuracy. We know their names and know that they each came from one of the Youngers. Second, it is beyond reasonable doubt that the Harbingers brought upon the Calamity of which Yelia tore the very earth asunder. It is, at this point, speculation as to specifically what they did to cause it, though there are only three possibilities that can be entertained: that the Harbingers invoked dark Magicks to overthrow the Elders, that through deception, subverted the armies of the Elders
and caused the collapse from corruption within, or both. As to which was the Catalyst, we may never know, but their names shall forever be recorded in our histories as the Harbingers of the Calamity.

  Tigri Taath, 500 Years of the Youngers

  Kiern

  Kiern found the Commander by the hearth in his room. He was sitting down reading a document that Farrel must have given him. He turned to Kiern when he heard the door open.

  “You’re back,” he said as he placed the letter in a pile on the table.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?” Kiern closed the door behind him.

  “I said that, but it is you that wants to see me.”

  “Sir?” Did he know about what he and Rhen had just found at the temple? Was this his chance to confess? No, why confess? He hadn’t done anything wrong, nor was he planning to hide this information. There was no way for him to know anyway – they had just walked in the door. Besides, the tone of the Commander’s voice was not accusatory.

  “You want to learn what I did to Levi.” Ah, that. Kiern felt a sigh of relief. He had known the Commander for many years, yet never felt fully at ease around him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, nor planned to, yet the relief was just as genuine as if he had been acquitted on trial. “I will tell you about it. Take a seat.”

  Kiern pulled out a chair from under the table. “Commander, there is one thing I want to ask you before that, if you don’t mind.” It had been eating away at him the past few days. Commander Reisch just sat there, offering Kiern the chance to speak.

  “We lost Derelin and Karrik that day, and I am only here because Rhen kept me alive long enough for you to…do whatever it was you did. You knew something was strange about Reilek, at least as far back as the tavern earlier that day. Why did you let him lead us to his trap?”

  The Commander crossed a leg and reached for his drink. “Tell me Kiern, when you joined the Elsgard, what were your responsibilities? What were you concerned with?”

  “Sir?” Where was he going with this?

  “I guess my responsibilities were whatever I was told to do. I didn’t have authority over anyone, so if Bairn asked me to feed or water the horses, that was my duty. If I was told we were going to track down travelling Karzarkis on their way to Braest, that was my duty.”

  The commander nodded. “You did as you were told. Though, you never were one to let your opinions remain unheard. When I named you my Second, what were your responsibilities? What were your concerns?” So, it was to be a lecture.

  “Well, you made Rhen my charge. I had to look after him. I know you expected me to befriend him sooner, and I regret that it came to…what we had to. But I tried to make sure that he was never in danger, I often walked when he rode…”

  “You thought about what you had to do. As my Second. You see the difference? I did not tell you what you needed to do. I could have. Perhaps Rhen may not have needed a broken hand if I had simply told you. But if I did, it would have been pointless to promote you. You see, anyone can follow orders, but those who must command, there is no one to take orders from. Your battles are fought with your head, and only when all else fails, with swords and bows.”

  Kiern was taking this all in, and it was something that he hadn’t considered in this light before, but... “I see what you are saying, Commander, but I’m not sure I see the connection with Reilek.”

  “You see the battle before you, but you do not see the war. You see an enemy agent whose cover was compromised yet was allowed to see their manipulation come to fruition. You see this, but you do not,” Reisch reached for his cup on the table, “see it from a perspective of commander.”

  “Then please tell me.”

  “Think about Verni. The people are sympathetic to the Sons. The tavern itself was run by the Sons. They provide us with food and shelter and supplies. If we interrogated Reilek, or even worse, killed him there and then, what kind of image does that give to the Sons, the people who provide us with free passage around Euparyen? What would they see?”

  A few things were clicking into place in Kiern’s mind, more slowly than he would have liked to admit. Perhaps if they clicked a bit faster, he could have saved himself from the embarrassment he was beginning to feel. “The Elsgard has been compromised. That we couldn’t be trusted. They’d stop offering us their hospitality just in case we were spies, or worse. We would be unable to move freely.”

  “Seems quite disadvantageous when we rely on their hospitality, don’t you think?”

  “But, when we were on the road, shouldn’t the others have been warned?”

  “They all knew. They have been in the Elsgard much longer than you have, Kiern. You worked it out as well. We could have captured Reilek before his trap, but then we would not have found out what he had planned. There was a chance we would find the others too. Levi told us a lot of valuable information that we would not have obtained had we simply killed him when we were out of Verni. Even if we intended to interrogate him, he would have killed himself before he was made to talk.”

  “I see sir. I am sorry for questioning your decision.” It always made sense after Commander Reisch explained things, and it always left him feeling inadequate or, from his position as Second, not quite ready.

  “It’s good that you do. At a suitable time like this. It would not be good for you to question superiors when we are out in the field.” That was praise coming from Commander Reisch, and not even hidden or given as a backhanded compliment. “Speaking of suitable timing,” Reisch continued, “it’s time you learnt what it is to be a Yalean warrior.”

  He extended his hand towards the hearth, and the fire raged and dwindled at his command. “Shall we get started?”

  “I’m ready.” The notion of learning a new power, sure, but he didn’t actually know what it entailed, and he was leaning towards, despite what his mouth had just said, probably not being ready.

  “It’s freezing outside. Why aren’t you cold?” asked Commander Reisch, changing topic suddenly.

  “Yaleans are tough. We grow up in the north.”

  “So do Taeryens. Yet they do not walk around in a single robe. Look at Levi.”

  This was the second time he had heard this today. He had never given it too much thought. “Elsgard endure a lot. I’m used to it.”

  “You know of our Caranaum:

  Emblem of the cold harsh North,

  With blood and rain a new dawn brought forth

  “The Bow of the North, yes.” Their Caranaum shaped their military traditions for centuries.

  “But you do not know the power of blood. The Yalean blood that runs through your veins. It has power.” Commander Reisch never gave straightforward answers. What was this power, the ability to be more resistant to the cold? “Air. We have a natural affinity for the manipulation of air. Watch.”

  He turned towards the fire again and extended his arms in a circle. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, before extending his arms towards the fire. The fire died down, reduced to embers. Commander Reisch then released his grip on the fire and it roared back to life. Reisch was sweating.

  “Our weapon is the bow. We have the best archers in all of Cerenea. Though few people know of our blood’s power, and our armies unknowingly guide their arrows.”

  Kiern’s face was a canvas of confusion. It was the face of a man who had grown up in a world where the existence of Magick was conspicuous solely for its absolute absence. It was the face of a man who had made sense of such a world; a world driven by lust for power, moved by those with money, a land of might making right. It was, the face of a man coming to the conclusion that the existence of Magick had far greater implications for the world than the lone feat of suffocating a fire right in front of his eyes.

  “How many know? What about the other Youngers? I imagine you’re thinking along the same lines as I did when I was first told about it. Do they also have power in their blood? What is it?” The Commander walked over to the wall where his bow was propped up against.
>
  “Um…it’s a lot to take in, I will be the first to admit. Who knows about this power?”

  “Very few outside the Elsgard. Yalea has not determined whether the other Youngers have discovered something similar in their bloodlines. We don’t know if we are unique in this, whether it is a rule that it materialises in bloodline, or whether all four Youngers even have it. In the event they have not, it would be unwise to give them such an idea by parading our own in front of them. Regular soldiers talk, regular soldiers are captured. Such a secret would not remain one for long. This power is best used when it is a surprise. That is why it is vital that –”

  “Reilek is killed.” Kiern finished for the Commander. He was a loose end who, until his purpose was revealed to them, might have nothing to lose in revealing the secret. “But wouldn’t Taeryen be aware of their power?” His thinking was coming together alongside his words. Levi mentioned the ritual.

  Reisch nodded. “The Black Wolves. Their bonding. Their power is connected to their Caranaum, just like ours. Their Caranaum is of farsight; so shall their bloodline be, if it follows the pattern. Levi did not seem aware of the innateness of the power, only that it was a ritual of the Black Wolves. It might not be a bloodline. We don’t know. Maybe it simply needs to be activated in the ritual but there would be others who know. They would be the least likely to have overlooked such a thing. The Black Wolves operate under the command of their council; they would know. They would also keep that knowledge a closely-guarded secret. As for Reilek, failure means death. No captives, no returning home. Reilek is probably the most wanted man in all of Cerenea, for at least three different reasons.”

  The room grew smaller around him, as if this volatile information risked igniting the foundations of the world were it to escape from the binds of their conversation. A power that lay deep within the souls of all Cereneans. A power known by only a handful and understood by even less. A power that history had never surrendered to the present.