Reign of Phyre

by Nicholas Cooper

  “I am Tarryn Rhasphyre; blessed by Yelia, cursed by man. I am come again.”

  Rhen fell backwards onto his arse. All of Tarryn’s soldiers disappeared, as though they were an illusion, as though their tomb had physically retained their memory and now that it was open, they were free. Simultaneously, however, the thirty Khasari began to scream. Rhen turned around to watch them drop their weapons, clawing at their heads, falling to the ground, writhing in pain. Then the screaming stopped. The Khasari then calmly picked up their weapons, and made two lines against the walls, spears at attention.

  “I don’t know how you broke the seal, but I thank you.” Tarryn said, extending his hand to help Rhen up.

  “I-I..”

  “But I will not tolerate Galascean blood tarnishing my family’s tomb.”

  With one movement of his arm, he sent the body of Kiern, his friend and companion, flying out of the tunnel, out to the forest. As easily as flicking an ant.

  That was what it took for Rhen to find his courage.

  He ran to where the officer had dropped Impatientia and charged at Tarryn, swinging down vertically knowing that it would cut through whatever got in its way.

  His sword cut straight through him. Too easily.

  “I see. You also hail from those upstarts, the Karzark Empire,” said the now ethereal Tarryn, “and you would raise your blade against me, against Phyre. You reject your own blood.” He grabbed the sword, wrenching it from Rhen’s grip. “A fine sword. I will take it”, he said, inspecting the blade. “I would sentence you to the same fate as the Galascean, but you have Phyresian blood in you. I will not kill my own people. Not without a warning. Now, I advise you to leave, before I change my mind, before I show you the power of what an emperor of a real empire can do.”

  He signalled to the exit before addressing his soldiers. “My soldiers, my knights, our lands were taken from us, our world forgotten,” Tarryn Rhasphyre said, picking up the Dawn Shield, “entombed, buried for eternity, we rise. Are you ready to take back what was once ours? Are you ready to remind the world who we are?”

  “Aye, and we’d do it all again, Tarryn.”

  “Onwards,” said Tarryn Rhasphyre, of Old Phyresia.

  And ever did they march.