Spears of Ladis

by RG Long

  Ealrin couldn’t agree more, but he always wanted that fire to burn. It would help Blume recover. He laid her down, took off his jacket to cover her with, and then assisted Maccus with the fire.

  The land of northern Ladis didn’t have much in the way of wood. What little they did have was either too small to be built with or too precious to be wasted in fuel. So many of the residents of the north used cloth and the dry grasses woven into squares to light flames. He had seen this more in Juttis, but Meris was still far enough north that trees didn’t grow in abundance.

  Tratta cleared away some of the debris of the barn and made a circle of rocks. Those would be good to warm themselves later after they had been heated properly. Maccus arranged some of the fire-cloths while Ealrin found the old flint and some dry grass for fuel.

  The command to make the fire small was unnecessary. They didn’t have enough to make any more than this one meager fire. Tomorrow night, if they stayed here, they would be cold for sure.

  Once their fire was going, Ealrin could see the inside of the barn more clearly. The rocks were stacked up higher than he could stand. That made sense. Stone was the most readily available resource here. It looked like the rocks that had been dug out for the barn were from the ground they were standing in. A small ramp had led them to the ground they laid on now.

  The roof was made of five wooden beams. They must have cost the owner of the barn a fortune to buy. Across them lay the remnants of the dry and brittle bushes from the surrounding area. Enough cracks had been made in the roof for the smoke to filter through with ease.

  No one said much. There was the usual passing around of the meager supplies, and people ate hungrily. But words weren’t readily exchanged. Not until after they had eaten and passed around their water skins.

  Thankfully, Tratta and Maccus had made sure to fill what they could with water from the city and had taken time to stuff their pockets with stolen food from the guard towers. It wasn’t much, but it was more than they had before they entered Meris.

  Once everyone had eaten as much as they knew they could, saving things for the journey past this point, they sat around the fire and warmed themselves by its gentle flames.

  Ealrin, who had eaten just a few bites, took to making sure Blume was comfortable. He felt her forehead and checked to see if the coat he had laid on top of her was keeping her warm. She still felt cold to the touch, so he used a cool rock to move one of the warmer ones from the ring of fire over to her. Carefully wrapping it in another cloth so as not to burn her, he laid it next to her stomach.

  “That girl’s somethin’ else,” Maccus said, breaking the silence that filled the barn for the last hour or so.

  “An extraordinary specimen,” Galp said from his spot next to the fire.

  Ealrin nodded before looking over at the man. He and Tratta were sitting with their backs against the wall of the barn. Gregory was standing next to them looking out a crack he had left in the door.

  “She’s a skilled Speaker,” Ealrin said, looking back at Blume admiringly. “But she can get a little ahead of herself sometimes.”

  Jurrin let out a chuckle.

  “I think you're a little too kind, Mister Ealrin,” he said with a grin. “She can do some mighty big magic when she has the mind to it. I just hope she’s alright.”

  Ealrin looked at Jurrin with a knowing expression. They had both seen Blume exhausted to the point of unconsciousness. It was never an easy sight to take in.

  “I’m just glad I’m not on the other side of one of her spells, ya know?” Tratta said, looking at Blume with awe. “She blasted half of the city away with her Speaking.”

  “Which brings us to our next steps,” Miss Rivius said, sitting by the fire with Ferrin and Galp. The Skrilx had been awfully quiet as well but now seemed to perk up at the thought of sharing a conversation.

  The woman turned to Holve and looked him in the eye.

  “Holve Bravestead?” She asked, folding her arms and furrowing her brow.

  “I am the one,” Holve answered, inclining his head to her. “I take it you are Miss Rivius, whom I’ve been corresponding with in Juttis?”

  “She is indeed,” Ferrin replied, looking on her with pride. “Best fabric and cloth maker in Ladis. Best clothes maker too.

  “Thank you, Ferrin,” Miss Rivius said without looking over at him. “Well, I must say things have been quite a mess since your little crew showed up at my shops. Juttis has been turned on its head, and it seems Meris has gone much the same way. Demons and magic and Isol on our doorstep. I’d love an explanation as to what is goin' on.”

  Ealrin thought that he wouldn't mind being told what was going on either. Holve had been very secretive before they had managed to escape from Meris. Ealrin got the feeling that Holve was going to share more with him later. But that chance hadn’t come. Yet.

  Perhaps this was the moment when he would understand why they had stayed in Ladis so long when they could have left by now.

  Then again, he felt, too, the tugging sense of trying to keep the peace between two groups of people who don’t see eye to eye. He knew that feeling well. The question was, what was the sense in seeking it again after so many attempts at peace had gone wrong?

  Holve let out a deep sigh.

  “We were not supposed to have come here,” he said wistfully. “But it appears fate had other plans. My group and I were taken hostage at an island the Theocracy claims and, unfortunately, was in the middle of inspecting when we arrived.”

  Ealrin still thought poorly of the priest, Jerius, and his prideful intolerance of them. He could still hear the man’s whip cracking over his head.

  “Since then I’ve been able to reconnect with some of my informants from the Rebellion Wars of Isol. I had hoped to stem Yada’s fury, but it seems she’s been building up an army for decades in preparation for this assault on Ladis. And she’s winning, so far as I can tell.”

  “But why stay in Ladis?” Rivius countered. “You’re a wanted man. You’ve been captured twice and nearly executed, from what your friends tell me. Why not just leave and allow it all to play out? As you said, fate may have other plans.”

  Holve signed at this. Blume stirred a bit in her sleep, and Ealrin put a hand on her shoulder. He noticed Olma out of the corner of his eye. She looked both concerned and nervous. She had her legs tucked in tight against her and was rocking back and forth slightly. Ealrin couldn’t figure out what it was about Olma, but something had changed in her.

  “Whatever fate has planned will happen,” Holve admitted. “But I refuse to allow it to happen without my efforts to do what is right.”

  “And who gets to decide what is right?” Rivius said. “I’m sure Yada and those from Isol think they are right in invading Ladis. From what I understand, the Theocracy has done some terrible things to them and their people.”

  “Indeed,” Holve answered. “Which is why...”

  “But who is to say that the Theocracy is right, either?” Rivius said, throwing up a hand to stop Holve. “I just watched my Prince, whom I have always had the utmost respect for, turn into some sort of demon and attempt to kill the people he was sworn to protect.”

  Ealrin looked around at the room. Every single person had their eyes glued on Rivius. He was looking back and forth from Holve to her, trying to judge what was transpiring that was unsaid.

  “Then there is you,” she said. “This group of yours that you’ve banded together has certainly thrown a wrench into my life and the lives of several other people who have been living peacefully despite all that’s gone on. This little girl has been uprooted from her family and livelihood.”

  Rivius motioned towards Olma, who looked like she was wishing to be much smaller than she was at the moment.

  “Are you right, and the Theocracy wrong? Or is Yada right?” Rivius asked. “You all seem to believe wholeheartedly in doing what is right. Kill the Speaker. Glorify the rimstone. Kill those who would take the land. Take revenge over wrongs
done to generations before you. If you’re all so equally determined to be right, how could you possibly be able to convince the other side unless you just wipe them off the face of Gilia?”

  Ealrin was aware that his mouth was slightly open. He closed it and shook himself. Everything he had believed about Miss Rivius he now took into consideration. She was not only a shrewd businesswoman. She was a philosopher at heart. And one who would challenge the whole world.

  “The Theocracy worships the gods of old who drove out the Speakers of Isol. The Speakers believe they were unjustly eradicated after building a nation. Where do you stand, Holve Bravestead?”

  Slowly, every eye turned to Holve, who was giving Rivius both an appraising look and looking quite taken aback himself.

  “You are much more than you allow yourself to appear, Miss Rivius of Juttis.”

  “Flattery has gotten few very far with me,” she replied. “Where do you stand?”

  Holve nodded and adjusted himself.

  “I believe in justice, Miss Rivius,” he said plainly.

  She looked like she was about to interrupt him again, but he held up his own hand.

  “I listened to your questions. I beg you listen to my answers.”

  Miss Rivius scowled, but relented, nodding her head and settling back into a seated position, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

  “I do not believe in taking life needlessly,” Holve continued. “And I have spent a good deal of my life weighing whether or not such an act was needless or not. I believe that there cannot be peace achieved by war, but that war is needed when the other side has decided that they would spill the blood of any who get in their way. To defend oneself by killing another is honorable. To kill without cause is the greatest dishonor. When I was here in Ladis, helping Isol, I did not see that clearly. I do now. I must do what I can to help stop this tide of violence and bloodshed. And sometimes, I fear, the only way to do that is through bloodshed.”

  Miss Rivius looked like she wanted to respond, but instead, she pursed her lips tighter.

  “A Speaker does nothing wrong when they communicate to the elements through rimstone. Decolos was a fool and a betrayer. He used the Speakers to build his empire and then cast them out when he feared they would overpower him. I’m afraid his actions have set us on this course. But we have more pressing matters to see to than he ever thought possible.”

  Rivius raised an eyebrow. Ealrin, however, nodded.

  “The demons,” he said, knowing what Holve was referring to. He had seen it before, on Ruyn. He had seen it here in Ladis too. “They are attracted to bloodshed and the loss of life. The more wars there are on Gilia, the more demons we have to fight back.”

  Miss Rivius took a deep breath.

  “You mean that the prince of Juttis has aligned himself with some otherworldly creature?” she asked.

  “If what you say is true,” Holve replied. “Either that is the case or he has tapped into some other form of dark magic that he is twisting to cause harm to those around him. We cannot allow that to happen either.”

  Ealrin tried to take in the gravity of this conversation. They had spent so much of their time and effort trying to get to Juttis. Now that they had been there and back, this last convincing of Holve’s contact seemed, almost unnecessary. But she was being won over. By the look in her eyes, she believed that Holve was genuine and that she felt the same way he did.

  But there was something that was still not quite registering for him. A missing piece. Or, rather, a missing person.

  “But if you’re here with us, and the prince of Juttis suspects you of allying with us, how can you be a spy?”

  The answer to that question would undoubtedly be an important one. Ealrin was curious, to say the least. Answers to that would have to wait, however.

  Blume was awake.

  And a blue flame had suddenly replaced their meager campfire.

  17: Innocence

  Olma leaped to her feet just as the fire turned blue. Looking over at Blume, she saw that her eyes were open and glowing the same deep, penetrating color as the flames.

  She scrambled to her feet and ran to the other side of the barn. Looking back, she saw that Blume was slowly getting to her feet. Her movements were rigid, stiff, and didn’t at all seem like the Blume Olma had spent time with.

  The girl had scared her. She didn’t know what to do with a Speaker. She had always been told they were evil. To be avoided. Shunned. Killed even. There had been a small part of her, a tiny part, that wanted to be friends with her.

  But how could she be friends with someone who was so different? Whose very best part of her was something Olma had been told all her life was the reason her country was at war, why her friend’s parents had gone off to fight, and why her family had been killed.

  It all made sense now.

  Seeing Blume in this way terrified Olma. She didn't know what was happening. And she was scared beyond speaking.

  “Blume? Blume!” Ealrin was shouting over and again. “Blume what are you doing? Are you alright?”

  Olma knew it was pointless. The face that stared back at them with glowing blue eyes didn’t care. It didn’t hear any of his pleas. It was passive and hard.

  “Get a grip, ya know?” Tratta’s voice came up over the general noise and confusion.

  Gregory moved forward from the door and grabbed Ealrin by the arm and tried to pull him back.

  “No gettin’ any closer,” Maccus said as he joined to help Gregory hold Ealrin back.

  Then something changed in Blume. She turned her head slightly to the side and raised her hand. From it, a small, slow tendril of blue eased its way out. It split into two and parted in front of Ealrin, going to either side of him, and stopping right before Gregory and Maccus.

  “Bow,” came a voice so unlike Blume's that Olma had thought at first it was someone else doing the talking. But it had been Blume’s mouth that had moved, she was sure of it. That same sickly blue light came from her mouth just as it did her eyes.

  “She’s losin’ it!” Maccus said, his voice wavering a bit.

  “What magic is this?” Gregory asked, inclining his head towards her.

  He wouldn’t get her answer.

  The blue tendrils shot like lightning through both Maccus and Gregory. There was a breath, a moment where Olma could still see their hands holding onto Ealrin’s shoulders. Then, with a blink, it passed. The pair of them fell limply to the floor.

  Several things happened at once. Tratta wailed at the sight of Maccus on the ground. Miss Rivius let out a scream. Ferrin jumped in front of her, spreading his arms wide. Galp scampered away from the fire, and Gorplin picked up a piece of wood that lay next to him. Jurrin ran to Ealrin’s side, yelling Blume’s name. Olma tried to turn and to run. To flee. To save herself and escape this horrible place where magic had killed and she feared for her life. She barely heard Holve yelling at her to stop moving. She needed to get out, to escape.

  A sickly black material began to swirl around Blume’s body, adding to the flame that glowed around her. Olma turned around just in time to see it pouring from the ring she had used to cast her spells. It gathered in a long snake-like blob that circled Blume with ever increasing speed until it was nearly impossible to see where it began and where it ended.

  Blume still looked uncaringly out in front of her. The two bodies of her victims lay on the floor at Ealrin’s feet. She didn’t even look down at them. She just stared ahead.

  Olma couldn’t believe it.

  Blume had been scary. She had used magic to help them. Olma had thought it was frightening, but she had never dreamed that this girl would use her magic to kill their own. Blume rose her hand up to Ealrin’s face. He just stood there, looking frozen to the spot. As if he couldn’t believe what was happening either. Olma turned to face the wall again and began scrambling to get out. There was a hole for a window just out of her reach. If she could only jump up and grab it, she could climb out and get away.

&nbs
p; “No, Miss Blume! Don’t do it!” Jurrin was shouting. The little halfling was waving his arms up and down as if trying to distract her.

  “Who is Blume?”

  The voice spoke in a low, ominous tone. And though it came from the direction of Blume, her mouth did not move. It was like the sound was coming from another place.

  “A wretch. A mortal. A powerless shade. A girl. A drifter. An orphan. A wretch.”

  Sounds bounced off the walls of the barn as Olma tried with ever increasing desperation to get out of the barn. She leaped up and grabbed a stone.

  “My master requires her,” the voice spoke in a tone that sent chills up Olma’s spine.

  She held on for just a breath, then the stone came loose, and she came crashing to the ground.

  The stone landed beside her. As she looked up from the ground, she saw a figure leap from the window she had been trying to climb out of. It sprang into the barn, throwing something it held in its hands as it fell to the floor.

  If the breath hadn’t been knocked out of her body, she could have turned over to see what it was. But there wasn’t any time for that.

  Then the air around them exploded.

  Olma felt her body lift off of the floor. Then there was the pain. Agony and pain unlike she had ever experienced before in her life. Her chest felt like it was going to cave in. Her teeth ground hard against themselves, and she clutched her body.

  “You,” the same ominous voice that had spoken before. “You will bring me what I want.”

  And then Olma felt nothing.

  18: Questions

  Coughing and spluttering, Ealrin picked himself up off the ground. He couldn’t remember it, but he must have hit the back wall of the barn. He ached terribly as he tried to orient himself. He had been lying flat on his stomach. With great effort, he got himself to his knees.

  People were talking. Voices he knew. But the ringing in his ears had not yet subsided. He shook his head. It was a bad idea. He felt he might split open from the movement.