Age of Death

by Age of Death (retail) (epub)

  “Find help,” Moya growled through clenched teeth.

  Tressa nodded. “There has to be someone in this accursed realm besides Ferrol who can do something.”

  “I’ll go,” Brin volunteered.

  “Brin, be careful!” Tesh called to her as she ran off toward where the trees thinned.

  Brin had always been a fast runner, but in the afterlife, she seemed to fly. She shattered limbs of the Dead Wood without care, and after a long while, she exited the trees and found herself on an open plain. Just beyond, she spotted an orange-and-red glow that filled the horizon like a predawn sun. In such a gray world, that tiny bit of color was a welcome sight, but it wasn’t a sunrise. The glow rose from below the edge of a cliff, its light making everything else darker. Rocks and the remaining solitary trees became inky silhouettes against an incandescent gleam that stretched to the horizon. From far below, Brin heard a faint rush like the gentle blow of wind in leaves, only there was no breeze and not nearly enough leaves.

  Slowing to a walk, she crept up to see what was at the bottom. Even before Brin was close enough, she had a good idea what it was. Unlike sunlight, this illumination writhed and flickered. The sound wasn’t a wind, but a constant roar of voices. In another few steps, she saw it. Fire. The canyon floor was an inferno. Amid those flames she noted buildings—huge fortresses stood perched on nearly every hill, bluff, and pinnacle. The largest and most magnificent was a white tower that rose near the center of the valley. Taller than the rest and as brilliant as a full moon, the singular pale finger soared to what Brin guessed to be the roof of that world, a black-sooted ceiling where smoke stained the sky. Between the fortresses, she saw movement, and her mouth fell agape. Hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of people crowded the valley floor. They were fighting.

  What lay below was incomprehensible to Brin: a jumbled mass of figures, some male, others female, and plenty of beasts. What looked like aurochs, but far larger, pulled massive wooden towers. Giants attacked with burning blades. Hundreds of tattered banners fluttered above ranks of endless soldiers. Winged creatures of all sorts flew, diving and snatching helpless victims. Balls of fire raced across the field, leaving long tails of dark smoke. The accumulated cries, clashes, and roars mixed into one unwavering sound, a constant noise like a waterfall’s crash on stone. All of it was so immense, so vast, yet so diminutive at this distance that if she unfocused her eyes, Brin could have been looking into the embers of a fire.

  Spotting movement, Brin turned and gasped. Transfixed by the sight before her, she hadn’t immediately noticed the figure of a woman draped in a black cloak walking toward her. Silent and shrouded as a shadow, she approached, arms folded. When she came near, Brin saw what was unmistakably the most beautiful being she’d ever beheld. Bright, cheerful eyes shone above a smile formed of perfect lips. Her eyes were blue, hair blond.

  Not a woman at all. A Fhrey.

  “We need help!” Brin called out, hoping in her desperation that this person wasn’t evil or a servant of the Queen. “My friend is hurt—it’s bad. She’s in terrible pain.”

  “Where?” the Fhrey asked.

  Brin didn’t feel she had the luxury of time to explain. She took the Fhrey by the hand and led her back through the shattered path. Before getting all the way back, they came across the others coming their way.

  Moya was between Tesh and Gifford as they struggled to carry her forward. Seeing Brin, they paused and set her down, Moya moaning in anguish.

  All eyes fixed on the Fhrey stranger, then shifted nervously to Brin for answers. In her haste to save Moya, she had none to give. Brin had been tasked with finding assistance and had no idea if she’d succeeded. “Can you help her?” Brin asked.

  The Fhrey lowered her hood, revealing a look of shock, but her focus wasn’t on Moya. She stared at the dwarf. “Might your name be Rain?” Her tone was inscrutably uniform, her inflection guarded.

  “Aye, I am,” he declared.

  “So, it is true.” The Fhrey shook her head. “Astounding.”

  “Can you save me friend?” Rain gestured toward Moya.

  The Fhrey glanced over and appeared puzzled. “From what, exactly?”

  “Are you stupid?” Moya growled. “My leg’s been cut off. I’m bleeding out!”

  Moya appeared bent on insulting every person they met, but then again, losing Tekchin and half her leg would leave anyone in a bad mood.

  “Can you help her, please?” Brin added.

  The Fhrey smiled at her, as if amused. “Please? That’s different.” She glanced at Rain, then back at Brin, and finally, she looked at Moya. She shrugged. “How can I refuse such a gracious request?”

  The Fhrey unclasped her cloak, and with a bit of wrist-born flourish, she snapped it out and let it settle across the lower part of Moya’s body. “Now, just calm yourself. Relax. Everything will be fine.”

  Moya grunted, a tear of sweat dangling from the tip of her nose as she sucked in air and blew it out with a violent force.

  “Your leg is fine. There’s nothing—”

  “My leg has been cut off, you stupid bitch!” Moya shuddered in pain. One hand was white-knuckled on Gifford’s arm, the other crushing Brin’s hand.

  “No, it hasn’t.” The Fhrey lady, who now revealed a stunning green gown, spoke in a soothing, confident, even authoritative manner.

  “You’re culling nuts! My leg is—”

  “Fine, whole, and without defect.”

  Brin would never put herself in the path of Moya’s red-hot fury, but the beautiful lady in the green gown showed no sign of yielding. She didn’t even flinch.

  The Fhrey’s tone grew even firmer, as if she were losing patience with a bratty child. “Now, stop putting up such a ridiculous fuss.”

  “My leg—” Moya began.

  “Is right there.” The Fhrey pointed.

  At that moment, everyone looked down and gasped. Under the cloak, there appeared to be two complete legs.

  Moya stared openmouthed.

  “Go on,” the Fhrey said with a whimsical grin. “Wiggle your foot.”

  Moya’s mouth remained open as she watched her foot wag from side to side.

  Then like a magic trick, the lady in green snatched back her garment. Beneath it were Moya’s legs—both of them. The blood was gone, and even the material of her leggings was undamaged.

  “How did you do that?” Moya asked as the pain and anguish drained from her face.

  The Fhrey woman laughed. “You haven’t been in Nifrel long, have you?”

  “We only just came in,” Tesh said.

  They all stared at Moya, stunned. She stood up gingerly, testing the limb, then smiled. “It’s fine.”

  Brin grabbed, hugged, and kissed her. Then she launched herself at Tesh. “Oh, Blessed Mari, how I’ve missed you!” Nearly tackling him, Brin buried Tesh in a rapid burst of kisses. When his arms found her, she felt the familiar vice of his embrace, and if she had breath, his kiss would have taken it away.

  “Fine, fine,” the Fhrey said and sighed. “Bodies restored, lovers apparently reunited, now may we address the important matter at hand?” She stared at Rain.

  The dwarf braced himself. “What do you want with me?”

  “Absolutely nothing. I merely came here to satisfy my curiosity and apparently lose a bet. But I know someone who has been searching for you for a long time. In point of fact, she’s quite anxious to meet you.”

  “Ferrol?” Rain asked cautiously.

  “Is that it? You work for the bitch-queen?” Tressa accused.

  The crow reappeared just then, flying in and landing on a nearby branch that rocked with its weight. Brin was once again impressed that the limb managed to hold it. The crow must be as heavy as a passing glance.

  “I hold no fidelity to the Queen of the White Tower,” the Fhrey declared. “Speaking of which.” She looked over at the crow. “Hello, Orin,” she said to it, then looking at the rest of them she asked, “Have you met? He is the queen�
��s servant. One of many. Orin is her eyes and ears.” She tilted her head to peer at the crow. “Orin, I hope you understand. This isn’t personal.”

  Spooked by her words, the bird pushed off the branch, but it only took two wingbeats before bursting into a cloud of black feathers with a loud pop! Everyone gasped. Brin took a step back as she watched the onetime bird’s plumage spiral slowly to the ground, where it made a tiny pile.

  The Fhrey laughed as she watched the feathers fall. “That never gets old.”

  She walked over and picked up the black feathers. Wadding the pile into a ball, she threw them into the air. Upon release, they became dead leaves that fell to an indifferent ground.

  The conversation died along with the bird. Brin wondered if she was going to explode all of them as well. By the looks on most of the other faces, they were thinking the same thing. The exception was Moya.

  The Keenig’s Shield was getting her feet back under her—both physically and figuratively. She stepped between the Fhrey and the dwarf. “I don’t care who you are or what you want. If you have a problem with Rain, then you have one with me as well.”

  “You can put your fur down. I have no quarrel with Rain. And oh, by the way, you’re welcome.” The Fhrey smiled sweetly at her.

  Moya only glared. “If you don’t work for Ferrol, I don’t—who are you, and what is it you want with Rain?”

  “My name is Fen, and I’m not here to cause trouble.”

  Moya gave a glance at the dead leaves, suggesting she might suspect differently. “Why are you here?”

  “Because I wagered Beatrice that no Belgriclungreian by the name of Rain was up on this ridge near the Rel Gate. I came here to prove I was right.” Fen adjusted her cloak on her shoulders. “Thank you for costing me a favor and granting Beatrice bragging rights.”

  “Beatrice?” Rain asked.

  “She’s been going on about you for centuries.”

  “Who is she?” Rain asked. “How did she know I was—”

  “Long story, and one we don’t have time for right now. Orin isn’t Ferrol’s only servant. It won’t be long before the queen learns of your arrival and comes looking.”

  “She already knows,” Roan muttered.

  “I’m sorry? What was that?”

  “We already met the queen,” Gifford said.

  “In a world of overachievers, I suppose you don’t rule by being slow or stupid. But how is it that you are still here if—”

  “Roan got rid of her,” Gifford said proudly, taking her hand in his.

  Fen took a step closer and studied Roan with a critical frown. “Not to be rude, but you don’t look capable of defeating Ferrol.”

  “She was going to hurt Gifford,” Roan said. “Make him burn himself in a fire I had made to scare away Grin the Brown, so I put the flames out.”

  A puzzled expression appeared on Fen’s face. She looked at Roan, Gifford, the others, and then back at Moya.

  “What is it?” Moya asked.

  “You hopped through the forest in agony on one leg.” She pointed at Roan. “And she made a fire and extinguished the queen.” Fen shook her head. “You’re a very odd group.”

  Fen led the way back through the forest toward where she and Brin first met. Despite her earlier apprehension, Moya followed the Fhrey, and everyone else followed Moya. The others gave the newly reunited couple some private space, so Brin and Tesh brought up the rear.

  “Tesh,” Brin said, taking hold of his arm with both of hers. “I can’t believe you’re here. I missed you so much. I wanted us to be together, but I was cruel and selfish. I’m sorry for so many things. But what happened? How did you get here?”

  “I went into the pool.” He hung his head.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m ashamed it took me so long.”

  “Why did it?”

  “You know why.” Tesh looked ahead at the others. “Have you told them?”

  Brin shook her head.

  “Why not?”

  “We had to break into the afterlife; I met my family and discovered we were wanted by the local officials, whom Moya had insulted; then we had story time with a god, and got into a fight with a huge one-eyed brute; after that, we destroyed a palace before taking on Queen Ferrol and an undead bear.” She shrugged. “Been kinda busy.”

  Tesh nodded.

  They continued to walk, and Brin patiently waited. He would tell her, but Tesh, who was always quick in battle, was slow with words.

  “What you said,” Tesh began, quietly, “about me becoming like them. I couldn’t understand why you would say such a hurtful thing and why you suddenly hated me. I got angry. After you went into the pool, Muriel was still there. She had been watching. I told her, ‘I thought she loved me. How could she leave me like that? How could she do that to me?’

  “Then she said, ‘Perhaps, she could tell you don’t really love her.’

  “ ‘How can you say that!’ I shouted.

  “Then she said, ‘The love of your life just killed herself in the hopes of saving another, and all you can think about is how it affects you? I’m not an expert, but I don’t think that love grows well in such bitter soil.’ ”

  He sighed. “The witch left me then. Alone, I sat and stared at that terrible pool. I had nothing but that memory of you sinking and my own thoughts.”

  “Why didn’t you leave? Go back to the Dragon Camp?”

  “I wish I could say that I realized you were right and found a way to overcome my hatred, but that wasn’t it. Honestly . . . I think it was the pain. I wanted it to stop. I kept replaying your last minutes, seeing the fear in your eyes as you went under. I’ve never experienced anything so unbearable. I couldn’t live with that. The pool was there, and I wanted to die, so taking the plunge seemed obvious. It wasn’t the best solution. It means I’ve failed at everything. I’ve disappointed my family, neglected my duty to my clan, and failed you because I couldn’t convince you not to die. I’m sorry, Brin.”

  “Tesh, don’t apologize. It’s me that should be sorry. I got you into this. Gave you that terrible ultimatum. But, Mari help me—and I know it’s totally wrong—but I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you so much.”

  Tesh nodded, but the sad frown spoke volumes. Her words hadn’t helped. Rather than saying more, she squeezed his hand, kissed it, and walked with her head leaning on his shoulder.

  They left the trees and reached the cliff. Far below, the battle continued. Each stood in awe as they beheld the sight, in much the same way that Brin had.

  “It’s a war,” Gifford said, his face lit by the orange glow.

  Fen pointed. “King Mideon has the strongest rebel hold in Nifrel. That Belgriclungreian fortress down there is where we are heading. It will be your life raft in this storm.”

  Rain stepped to the edge of the drop. “King Mideon is down there?”

  “Yes. And for Beatrice’s sake, I am willing to escort you.”

  “Down there?” Tressa asked, shocked. “There’s a battle—a huge one!”

  Fen peered over the edge as if she hadn’t noticed. She pushed out her lower lip and nodded in appraisal. “Atella is doing better than usual. Of course, he has Havar now.” She added in a quiet, casual tone, as if speaking among friends at a sporting match, “Traded Rhist for him in the last negotiations with Mideon—which was a great deal when you think about it. Won’t help, though; they still can’t get past Orr. Mideon is the only one who has a chance of fighting the dragon, and he won’t leave his citadel.” She shook her head with a disgusted, hopeless expression. “As long as Ferrol has Orr, no one will ever breach even her outer walls. Atella doesn’t care. He will beat on that same door for all eternity. But then, that is what makes him Atella, is it not? Been thousands of years, but for him, losing is somehow still a novelty.”

  “This happens every day?” Gifford asked.

  Fen nodded. “Well, yes, but it’s always the same day here, isn’t it? Now then, given that Ferrol has shown an
interest, this won’t be easy. Your only hope is that she doesn’t know I’m with you. She’ll assume it’s just the seven of you wandering in the woods. You can refuse my help, but if you wish to avoid Ferrol, you’ll want to get down off this ledge, and I know the fastest way short of jumping, which you could do, but it’ll hurt almost beyond imagination. And if you’re all like this one”—she pointed at Moya—“it will take too long for you to put yourselves back together.”

  They stared at one another, as if Fen were speaking an unknown language.

  “Well?” she asked. “Do you want my help?”

  “I’m inclined to say yes,” Gifford said.

  “I’m not,” Tressa countered, folding her arms. “We don’t know the first thing about her.”

  “She helped Moya,” Brin said.

  “That doesn’t tell me who she is or what she’s up to.”

  “You want to know about me?” Fen looked surprised, as if she were of no importance. “Well, you already know I’m Fhrey—or was when I was alive. That should be obvious. I have my own tower of sorts down there. You can barely see it from here. I visit the Bulwark often; that’s Mideon’s fortress. I’m one of the few Fhrey he allows in without armed guards. We have what you might call a friendship of sorts—a mutual history, at least. Ironic, as in life we were mortal enemies. Our newfound cooperation is something I take great pride in.”

  Rain gasped and took two steps back.

  “What’s wrong?” Moya asked him.

  “I know who she is.” Rain pointed an accusatory finger at the Fhrey. “The Dark Sorceress of the Ylfe. She killed tens of thousands of my people.”

  “I did not! That’s absurd.” Fen shook her head, then in a sad voice added, “I killed hundreds of thousands.”

  “Hundreds of thousands?” Tesh said, stunned.

  “I know who she is now, too,” Brin said. “Arion used to tell me tales . . . for my book. She practically worshiped her.”

  “Arion?” Fen asked surprised. “Arion Cenzlyor? You know my Arion?”

  “She was a friend of ours, who was—”

  “Was?”

  “Yes,” Brin said. “She died during the first battle of our war with the Fhrey. That was many years ago.”