Reign of Phyre

by Nicholas Cooper

  “I’m afraid I cannot tell you. You are serving Euphyria now, but I do not know enough about you to ascertain if this will change when an opportunity comes along, or when your adventure comes to a close.”

  The euphoria of having his hand healed, after he had resigned himself to a life of being crippled, combined with the gratitude he felt to a princess who was responsible for his healing, left him in a receptive, talkative mood. It was as if he was in a room with Yelia herself.

  “Princess, if I can speak plainly with you, I would like to tell you my story.”

  She stood up from the bed, using her sceptre as leverage, and sat back in the chair. “Very well but keep it short. I have a war to win.”

  Rhen naturally used his other arm to bring himself upright out of habit. It would take some getting used to again to start using his other hand out of instinct. “I grew up in the Eastern Territories. Mhir, specifically. Naturally, I learnt to speak Euphyrian since I was a child and not because I am a Karzarki spy.”

  “You might not have an accent, but I can’t say your Euphyrian is perfect. You should know that it is not the Eastern Territories, but the Western Territories. I don’t think your memory is that short that you cannot remember our homeland was invaded by Karzark.”

  “Call it semantics. It is how I know it. It’s also beside the point. Despite what you may have been told about Karzark, it is a just society. We are not a band of marauders who are hellbent on murdering anyone who isn’t Karzarki. Instead, Karzark is driven by their belief in The Sin. Unifiying Cerenea. I still believe that it is an admirable goal.”

  “It sounds like the Elsgard had made a mistake with you, so I presume there is more to your tale than this.” She looked at him, making no effort to hide her apathy.

  “Naturally. While I still believe in such a cause, I think I’ve become disillusioned with the method, which I’m sure you would be happy to hear. I’ve seen what the Khasari do here, and it is far from what I expected. Many in Karzark would be horrified if they knew of it. The Khasari have a sacred oath, one that has existed from the time Karzark was born. The oath was made to justify a crusade, that any campaign to unify the people would result in as few deaths as possible, that civilians would not be harmed. However, the Sons take advantage of this oath, and I can understand the Khasari’s frustration. But an oath is an oath and it is not made lightly. And therein lies where my loyalties struggle to find a place to lie. I believe in our cause, but if we are to succeed in unifying Cerenea, the method is most important, lest an iron fist instigate centuries of armed rebellion. An emperor embroiled in a civil war will rule nought but ash.”

  Vaelynna raised her eyebrow. “Interesting choice of words. Tell me, what do you know of my lineage? Am I destined to rule an empire of ash?”

  Rhen felt a shiver down his spine. The question was presented on the end of a sword tip. “Uh, I don’t…I’m not really well-versed…”

  The princess shook her head disapprovingly. “Maybe you aren’t of use to me, if you can’t speak truthfully. I asked you a question. I will not take your head for an undesirable answer; only for a lie. My advisors would be useless if they were to cower in fear.”

  “Very well. Tarryn was the last of the Pyresian Rhasphyre line. He fell in battle against the Youngers. The successor state, Euphyria, rallied behind a prominent general who claimed to have Rhasphyre blood. He claimed the war was the fault of the emperor, and his branch of the bloodline had led the uprising at the behest of the people. This is, of course, typical of mythology that surrounds figures who found dynasties in their quest for legitimacy. It is but a guess, but I would bet money he was just a noble and needed the support which other nobles were happy to give. And that,” Rhen said, swallowing hard, “would make you not a Rhasphyre.”

  “Then you owe me money but please, continue.”

  Rhen was relieved she let the last comment slide. “The so-called cadet branch of Rhasphyres who ruled Euphyria until the Karzark expansion all claimed an unbroken lineage from Pyresia’s time, and so when Karzark returned to Euphyria after crossing the Desari, they dealt with them as such. They hunted down the Rhasphyre pretenders so that Euphyria would not have a bloodline to rally behind, that it would be easier to incorporate the people into Karzark’s dominion. But here you are, proof that Karzark made a mistake. Euphyria did find someone to rally behind after all.”

  Vaelynna sat there in contemplation for a moment, before toying with her sword, looked sternly at Rhen and said, “You are right. I don’t like your answer.”

  Rhen panicked, lured into a trap. The princess burst into laughter and waved her hand at him. “Sorry, I just wanted to see you squirm. It seems you have studied our history well, though no doubt there must be some erroneous Karzarki authors amongst your texts.”

  Rhen straightened up, eager to be proven wrong.

  “You see, you were right that the war began from the Pyresian emperor. However, it is true that there was a split in the Rhasphyre line. My ancestor, Misral Rhasphyre, was Tarryn’s uncle and a general who led the split in our family’s line. Though he died before the war ended, perhaps rightly so, our blood runs true, and it has continued to rule these lands ever since.”

  Rhen’s inner-historian was jumping out of his skin, but he couldn’t let it show. Mishval, one of the four heroes, after whom the Schism was named…If he showed doubt, however, that he didn’t believe her story, she might be willing to provide some more information that could fill in the gaps of his own knowledge.

  “Well, since the Karzarki historians seem to be so lacking in authenticity, perhaps you could explain how after Tarryn Rhasphyre’s battle, his body was never found?”

  “Though we fought against them, he was still of our blood. Our family made peace and Misral made sure his body was buried in the family’s ancestral tomb,” she said, surprising Rhen at the ease of which it came. He felt a sense of relief and pride wash over him, knowing that he had followed the clues and he was right.

  “He sealed it shut, closing a dark chapter of our history.” And as quickly as it had come, that sense of relief and pride turned to ash. No, wait, he reminded himself, it’s okay, the shield will be with Tarrae, not Tarryn.

  “Sealed it shut?” he said, trying to hide the bout of panic that still had his heart racing, “What do you mean sealed shut? What about all those Rhasphyre’s who came after him?”

  “Of course, Euphyre’s line is buried elsewhere, and I will not divulge that to a Karzarki, allied with Euphyre or not.” That’s what the temple’s inscription said, I’m right. He couldn’t help but feel this was his only opportunity to remove any sense of doubt, however, and so Rhen decided he had nothing to lose. Pretend it’s not that secret.

  “You know, it’s written on a temple in Rulven. In Mishval’s Schism. Don’t worry though, it was written in Pyresian. Your family made sure to keep its secrets lost to the ages. I doubt many Karzarkis can read it.”

  “They didn’t erase it? I guess they had to leave Rulven in a rush. Yeah, that was abandoned quite some time ago. When Tarrae died, he was taken there temporarily, until we found a more suitable resting place. The message was an inscription for where to find him. Rest assured, that’s all you’re going to weasel out of me, ally of the Elsgard.”

  She uncrossed her legs and made to stand up and leave, but Rhen needed to keep her here. She had proven his theory wrong, and now he was left to face a gruesome demise once the Elsgard discovered that he had wasted their time… “Erm, one thing we can agree on is that Yelia provided each of the Youngers with a Caranaum. Priests tell a more spiritual tale, but since you claim in Euphyria’s case the family line continued –”

  “Stop there, Rhenias Tallesen. You will not manipulate me into showing you Euphyre’s Caranaum. You would find its touch most unwelcoming to your Karzarki blood anyway. Speaking of, doubt my lineage as much as you want, though the fact I healed you should be evidence enough that I carry royal blood.”

  He had unsettled her
, and he knew that she was not in possession of the Dawn Shield. Her threat of blood was a hidden attempt to discourage him from seeking it out, but he hadn’t fallen for it. Nowhere had he heard anything of the sort. Furthermore, he could not explain how she had healed him, but he knew she was not of the Rhasphyre line. Of course, there was no proof that she was a Rhasphyre at all. She could claim these things, and he could still have the correct location. She would not be pressed any further though. Not without risk.

  He needed to recap. The Dawn Shield was buried with the last of the Rhasphyres who perished under the might of Karzark, Tarrae Rhasphyre. It didn’t matter if he was a pretender or not. Perhaps it was true she knew of where the Euphyrian Rhasphyre’s were buried – it was not ancient history. But he did not. He was now once again in the precarious position of misleading the Yaleans and receiving a swift journey to the afterlife. He briefly considered whether knowing the Euphyrian rebellion was founded on a pretender claiming to be a Rhasphyre would win him redemption with Karzark, if he could somehow escape, but he would need to sleep on it and think if that was really what he wanted.

  “Forgive me. I should not question someone whose blood has ruled these lands for millennia. There was no sense in Karzark’s invasion.” That was true for the spiritual side of Karzark, if their Caranaum was lost.

  Of course, the princess interpreted his words differently. “Hmm, if only more of your people thought the way you do. Instead they send over more legions intent on violent subjugation of mine own people. If things were different, if Euphyre regained its homeland, I could use someone like you as an ambassador. I believe you would be a bridge that helped us see eye to eye. You’re different from your bloodthirsty soldiers, but how exactly do you serve the Elsgard, I wonder? How do you serve Euphyre?”

  Rhen paused for a moment. He considered spilling everything to the princess. After all, she had healed him of his wounds. However, the Elsgard had kept their agenda hidden from the Sons of the Phoenix. He had to decide to whom his loyalties truly lay. The Elsgard had crippled him, taken him prisoner, but the Sons probably would have killed him if not for them. He now knew some of Euphyria’s secrets, and helping Karzark was a potential option, but he would probably not make it out alive. Ultimately, his decision rested on his friendship with Kiern. Telling Vaelynna about the Caranaum might have resulted in Kiern’s head rolling, or at least imprisonment.

  “My family are merchants. I know Euphyria quite well. I keep the Elsgard out of trouble with any Khasari we meet, and I have some connections that they use.”

  She stared into his eyes, searching for something more. He kept his composure, trying to convince himself that it was the truth. “Hardly seems the effort,” she said finally, before continuing, “But it was not my choice to make. Besides, you might be useful in the future. You have seen through Karzark’s lies, you’ve seen the reality of what goes on. I trust the Elsgard, and if they deem you an asset, then so shall I. Now that you have full use of your hand again, I have a gift for you. Vinrael is a long way off, and the east is still a dangerous, untamed place.”

  Princess Vaelynna IV rose from her chair and gracefully strode over to the door. She knocked and one of the guards opened the door and handed her a sheathed sword. She took it and walked over to Rhen. “This sword is an important sword. It represents the bravery, the daring, the persistence, the tenacity of the Sons of the Phoenix, of the people who still have carry Euphyre in their hearts.” She unsheathed it and ceremoniously bowed and offered it to him with both hands. It did not burn her, did not reject her as she had just threatened.

  Rhen was perplexed. He knew the ancient script, fallen out of use centuries ago. “This is Legio VII’s sword,” he said reading the inscription, “Impatientia”.

  Vaelynna smiled. “Taken from Karzark’s capital years ago in a raid. Karzark may have its fangs around our neck, but the Euphyrian eagle still has claws just as sharp.”

  Rhen’s head began to spin. She had a Caranaum after all. What was real, what as a lie?

  -------------------------------------

  The Captive

  Soft, incoherent chatter dragged him from his fevered dream. It felt like several lifetimes ago that he was last awake. His head pounded with the gentleness of a sledgehammer.

  There were two voices in the room with him, conversing in a language that he had not heard clearly for some time. They were married, judging by the way they were talking to each other. He slowly opened his eyes and found himself looking at a silt-covered ceiling. He tried to sit up and found his body resisted vehemently by shooting searing pain through every muscle. Someone had been courteous enough to have bandaged him in linen that was now bloodied.

  “Lie down. You’re not strong enough. You’ll reopen the wounds. Here, I’ll make you some tea. Please, be still. Galen, go bring some firewood inside and tell my wife to bring some soup.”

  He laid back down and closed his eyes. He could move. And he knew he was dreaming.

  He awoke upon two people entering the room. There was a man and a woman. They were married, judging by the way they were talking to each other. The droll, chatter-riddled complaints of the wife and the dismissive know-it-all attitude of the husband.

  He was helped upright by the man while the wife fetched a bowl of soup, presumably for him. His body ached in every part that could move. He was heavily bandaged around his waist and leg and…his wrist. He remembered now, still hazily, that he had fended off an attempt at suicide. Not so lucky.

  “Where am I?” he asked as he was given a bowl of soup from the woman. He took a sip as he looked expectantly at the man.

  “You’re in Tolvik. One more day out there and you would not be here now. You must have earned Yelia’s blessing to have been so fortunate we found you when we did.”

  Tolvik, Tolvik, how many more days? He was unfamiliar with these lands, except that they were sparsely populated and rugged. He had to find a horse. These villagers didn’t seem like the kind to afford one.

  “Is there a town north of here?”

  The woman chuckled a hoarse, annoying chuckle. “A town? There’s nothing but villages half the size of this one up there. You’d be lucky to count a hundred souls from here to the Pass. That is unless you are comfortable making friends with the Elder ghosts.”

  Not particularly, he thought, but what choice did he have? There was one last task asked of him, and forfeiting his life was an insignificant price to pay for completing it.

  “So, what’s an injured man doing hobbling through our icy rock-filled fields? Are those damned Khasari after ye? They have some gall coming this far north this time of year, and for what? To take from our already paltry harvest again? But you don’t look like you’re a Son, mister…what’s your name?”

  “I am not a Khasari. That should be enough,” he said, knowing that if anyone came searching, they already knew too much.

  “You’d think he’d be a bit more grateful, after saving his life…” the man mumbled to no one in particular.

  His wife clicked her tongue at him in the way that wives did when they didn’t necessarily disagree with their husbands but reprimanded them nonetheless to maintain a veneer of dissatisfaction at them in front of particular company.

  He knew that without a horse, he would need to leave as soon as possible. He could return south and find a horse but that was risky by itself, let alone the possibility that it could be days before he found one. No, he needed to heal as quickly as he could and leave just as fast.

  Suddenly his head exploded into a searing, blinding pain that he had felt only once before. Though the pain deprived him of every other sensation, it was unique enough that he instantly knew what it was. Unfortunately, he also knew that he would pass out as a result.

  He awoke to a large crackle that came from a fire. He opened his eyes and saw the man and woman that he had seen in his dream. He remembered something about that woman.

  “You promised you’d make me soup, woman.”

&
nbsp; He heard his voice. He could speak. He sat up and he felt pain from his wounds. He could feel pain. He wasn’t dreaming. How long had he been dreaming?

  The man looked at him from his chair on the other side of the room. “Aye, she already did. But since we have taken you in and have offered you our home and hearth, I would like to know your name. I do not want it to be said that I harboured a wrongdoer.”

  “Rylic. Remember it, please. Listen, forget the soup. Please help me up.”

  He scanned the room for a knife, anything sharp. He immediately stopped however, when he felt the strong grip of resistance from within him. Well, I am alive, he thought. His previous attempt must have failed. He would need to find another way.

  “I appreciate what you have done for me, but please, take me back to where you found me and kill me.”

  The couple, understandably, were taken aback. “Yelia have mercy. After she saved you, why would you ask us such a thing?”

  Rylic did not want to pass on a death sentence to these people for knowing what they should not know. “I am a murderer. I have failed a great many people. I watched my friends perish by sword, by fire, by hanging. It was by my sentence they died. Please, I beg you, kill me. End me, before I kill everyone here. Do it while I am weak.”

  Rylic could see the fear in their eyes. The broken bowl of soup on the floor made it clear. The man moved in front of his wife, brandishing a knife. Good. Perhaps he himself could not end his suffering, but this man could.

  “I will not,” said the man, “I will not spill a murderer’s blood no more in my house than what I already have in stitching you up.”

  Rylic collapsed onto the bed. He couldn’t remain like this much longer.

  “If what you say is indeed true, then I will send a boy to find someone who will mete out justice. Shall it be a Khasari or a Son?”

  His despair fled for a moment. Searching his memories, innumerable and filled with sadness and pain, there was one that gave him hope, though the word tainted his mouth.