Gods and Heroes- Rise of Fire

by Brendan Wright

  For all their size, they moved as silently as a light forest breeze, and mottled green fur helped them blend perfectly into the trees around them. As massive as they were, they were sleek and agile. Their pitch black eyes burned with intelligence, and two rows of jagged black teeth punctuated every low growl. Their claws were massive and razor sharp, able to slice through almost anything except Shenza steel.

  She barely survived the first attack. No sound gave the animal away as it crept towards her. Its mottled fur moved with the rustling leaves in the soft breeze. She stared right at it without realising, until it pounced. If she was facing any other direction, she would have died almost instantly. Without thinking, she leapt sideways off the branch, falling until her shoulder smashed into a second branch and she grabbed desperately with her other hand.

  Stopping her fall, she swept a leg up over the branch and caught her breath as silently as she could. Again, she heard nothing above her. The forest held its breath. Slowly, she slid her blade from its sheath. The silence was terrifying; not even the ever-present chirping of insects pierced it. In that quiet moment, she knew she was going to die. Even seasoned Kaizeluun didn't always survive against the mighty Zuzuk.

  In ancient stories, the best fighters of the Shenza, precursors to the Kaizeluun, were blessed by Amalus and turned into Zuzuk to better protect the forests. They were bonded with Shadow Magic and shaped into invincible monsters. The rest of the Shenza were shown how to wield the magic in human form, and their combined power built the great Kashainuukza. After the city was built, the Shenza kept to the city and the forest canopy while the Zuzuk protected the forest floor.

  It was said that over time, the Zuzuk forgot they were once Shenza; living in the forest without family and friends forced them to shed their human thoughts and feelings. Now, they roamed the trees, intent only on killing anything that didn't belong in their territory.

  Zanela held her breath, listening for any hint of sound. Her heart beat so loudly she was sure the beast would hear it. She slowly rose into a crouch, ready to fight or dive again. Her sword was a comfort in her hand, light but dangerous. Her hand fit the grip perfectly, and it never slipped once it was unsheathed. She settled on the branch, as still as the tree itself.

  Rustling leaves brought her attention to the left, above her. Barely a second later, a thick branch creaked softly behind her and she swept her blade around with all her strength just in time. The Zuzuk landed on the branch where she stood just as her Shenzuun swung through the air at its throat. She hit it at an angle, cutting its neck but not deep enough. The force of the beast's landing shoved her violently, but her blade was lodged in its neck. They struggled, the Zuzuk trying to bite her face and neck and Zanela trying to rip her sword out of its thick skin. It was massive, and made almost entirely of muscle. Every movement could have killed her. Every second being caught with it on the branch was another chance to be torn to pieces. It growled and shook its head as she held on to her sword desperately with both hands. Finally, it pulled backwards and snapped forward again, and her blade slipped free. She managed to keep it in her grip as she fell.

  An enraged roar battered her ears as she smashed into another branch, flailing and slipping again. Her legs caught in a tangle of vines hanging off a lower branch, and she hung upside down, swinging and trying to catch her breath. Cracking sounds floated down to her; the massive beast jumped from branch to branch without trying to remain silent. Her heart resumed its normal pace as she realised the sounds were fading.

  She grabbed the branch above her and cut the vines holding her to it. Her feet swung down and she sheathed her blade and climbed back up to the top of the tree. After she got over the terror of nearly being ripped to pieces by a massive, vicious predator, she moved to a quieter part of the forest. It was there she found the hollow in the top of the tree where she made her home. By the time she found it, the sun was gone. Darkness wrapped the forest in shadow and fear, and she cried herself into an uneasy sleep.

  Dakesh

  The Omati desert was bleak, harrowing, and brutal. The sand was grey, the rocks black, there were no signs of living animals and the few trees they happened across grew with bright orange and yellow leaves; Giving the disquieting impression of an endless field of ash and fire. It felt as far from Shanaken as it was possible to get, both literally and figuratively. Sand dunes rose and fell, the wind threw stinging grey sand into Dakesh's eyes and face; he'd never felt so vulnerable in his life. He realised how much he'd come to rely on the safety and reliability of the gargantuan trees the Shenza lived in. But he looked around him; his fellow Thearans were hard and unforgiving, and as vicious as the desert itself. Even as he suffered, he looked forward to the strength he knew the desert would forge in him.

  He learned the Thearans weren't just great hunters, they were expert foragers and survivalists, able to locate and dig up food and water in the unlikeliest of places. Aella showed him what looked like a black rock half buried in the sand, but which turned out to be a kind of hard plant with roots that buried deep underneath the desert. He was shown how to harvest water from them, and that the flesh underneath the shell-like skin was not only edible, but blessedly juicy and refreshing. It tasted mostly like dirt, but the water contained in it more than made up for lack of flavour. He was shown how to tell when a ridge of sand was actually a greysnake lurking just under the desert surface, and how to kill them. They were also edible, but the fangs were to be very carefully avoided. He was taught about Diamondback Lizards, which mostly lurked around trees and rocks, and were non-venomous, harmless but for a particularly vicious bite. Diamondback Lizards were edible too. Dakesh learned that almost everything but the sand and rocks themselves were edible if you knew how to prepare and cook it, and where to find it. The Thearans never ate anything without cooking it first, as they didn't trust anything that couldn't be cleansed by fire. The one exception was the rock-like plants, and only because they were consumed for their water content, and were counted by the Thearans as a drink instead of a food.

  Dakesh grew used to carrying everything he needed on his own back; as nomads, Thearans needed to be able to pack up and move quickly, and they had no mounts to carry their tents or weapons. So everything a warrior needed, they were expected to carry themselves. Each warrior generally carried a small tent and bedroll, a supply of dried meats and spices, their weapons, and whatever money they owned.

  Dakesh was told that unlike the rest of the Thearan tribes, Kerberos' followers worshipped the God of Fire, Sithares. It was explained to him that through prayer and proper worship of Sithares, a Thearan warrior could gain the power of Fire Magic; the ability to create and manipulate fire, among other things. Kerberos taught the prayer to all new tribe members in a group once he was convinced they deserved the power. Dakesh’s eyes lit up when he learned of Fire Magic, and he felt a ravenous hunger for power.

  You will gain this power. You are chosen.

  Dakesh was used to the voice now, accustomed to its reassuring whispers. But the tribe had been travelling through the desert for what felt like weeks, and he was taught no prayers. So that night he prayed on his own, though he'd never done it before.

  "Sithares, God of fire, I am your humble servant," he began, "heed my words and grant me the power of Fire."

  What will you give me in return?

  Dakesh's eyes opened. This was the same voice which spoke to him since the day he took Kailen's Kaizuun. So, he thought, this is the voice of Sithares. This entire time, a God has been speaking directly to me. He wasn't sure if he was surprised or not, but it felt right to him regardless. He was led here by Sithares, the God of Fire, and it was clear Sithares favoured him in some way. He knew he was willing to do anything to become the best warrior in all of Pandeia, and now an actual God was willing to provide him with the means to achieve it.

  "Anything."

  Very well. When you wake next, the fire will be burning in your soul. In return, you must devote yourself to me completely. Yo
u must do as I command. I need my servants fanning the flames of my power, and you will find that the more power I gain, the more power I grant to my chosen.

  "How do I give you more power?"

  You already know. The Thearan lifestyle was created by me, you've heard them talk about battle and killing. You must give me death, destruction, and fire. Burn your enemies and destroy their homes and families. Help the fire spread across all of Pandeia.

  Dakesh thought about fire magic. Thearans could do some incredible things. Most of them were quite weak, just able to conjure a small flame to start a fire or to raise their body temperature slightly on the colder desert nights. But the more powerful ones, the most avid followers of Sithares, could create fireballs with enough explosive power to kill a handful of people at the same time, and shoot powerful streams of flame from their hands for a few seconds. They were completely immune to being burnt by fire, and Dakesh had even heard of more impressive fire magic, things the ancient Thearans could do back when Sithares was feared by all. Fire magic had undoubtedly dwindled since the ancient Thearans, but Dakesh still saw the opportunity to gain power and strength, and if he really devoted himself to Sithares' power rising, he could potentially become as powerful as the legends he'd heard. He knew what his answer would be before he even thought about it, and he knew that Sithares knew as well. The thought of all that power belonging to him was too much to ignore.

  "As you wish, Sithares. I'm yours."

  Vivid dreams of fire and battle chased Dakesh into the morning light. He woke with a start, sweating and overheated. He felt new energy inside himself, radiating from his chest. Sithares fulfilled his wish. He held his hand up, cupped as though holding a bowl. He focused intently on the centre of his palm. A dim light began to emanate. He focused harder, picturing a flame, willing heat and light to appear in his hand. He felt the heat grow. A tiny spark fizzed where his eyes were staring, then the light faded.

  It was a good start, but Dakesh longed for the power of the ancient Thearans. He wouldn't stop until he had it. He felt the heat and magic within himself; he knew with practice he could be powerful.

  He practised almost constantly, as much as he trained for combat. He found himself making friends with the other Thearans who could wield fire magic, and they trained together. It was dangerous training. Thearans didn't hold back, and it was normal and even fairly common for warriors to die in sparring sessions. Dakesh was pushed to his limits, which he found exhilarating. He improved phenomenally over the next few weeks and months, and eventually caught Kerberos' notice.

  "Shenza!" Kerberos called over the clangour of sparring one day. The warriors stopped immediately. Not normally the kind to instantly follow any order, Thearans were fiery in nature as well as in battle. But Kerberos commanded, and others listened; it was the way of things. He emanated power and control. Dakesh turned to him, sheathing his black sword and nodding a slight bow towards Kerberos.

  Kerberos smiled. "You fight well. No need to put away your blade. I will spar with you."

  Dakesh was speechless for a moment. Kerberos was a near legendary figure among the Thearans; undefeated in every battle he'd fought. He was massive, with muscles as hard as steel and a torso that reminded Dakesh eerily of the gargantuan trees in Shanaken. For all his size, he was unbelievably fast and agile, and his mind was as sharp as his weapons. His calculating gaze held Dakesh captive for a moment before he finally regained control, and nodded to show his agreement.

  "Of course, Kerberos. As you command."

  The Thearans didn't appoint titles to their tribe leaders. They didn't believe power could be held with a name alone. Instead, power was gained through strength and skill. Most of the tribe addressed him as "my lord", but he didn't seem to expect it, or even want the title. In most tribes, the Thearan leader changed hands as often as the wind blew, but as far as Dakesh heard, Kerberos had been in control for more than a decade.

  Kerberos stood still as a statue, relaxed but alert. He held a spear as tall as he was, seven foot at least, in his right hand. It rested perfectly parallel with the ground. His preferred weapon was a long chain with a Thearan spearhead at one end and a heavy spiked metal ball at the other. It wrapped around his body in neat loops with the spiked ball resting secure at his waist and the spearhead in a sheath on his back.

  Dakesh faced him, his Kaizuun poised in a downward angle. He felt its energy pulsing through him, and embraced it as much as he could. He knew this would take all his skill, and he knew he could easily die by Kerberos' hand; but at the same time he'd never been more excited for a fight. This would be a true test of his abilities, and if he held his own he could gain Kerberos' respect.

  A crowd of fellow warriors gathered, forming a circle around them. Kerberos' spear started moving slowly, twirling around his body in smooth, controlled arcs. His eyes never wavered, locked with Dakesh's in a fierce glare as unnerving and hypnotic as the spinning spear in his hands. Suddenly the spear disappeared, and Dakesh saw nothing but a razor sharp blade knifing through the air towards his face. He ducked just as Kerberos threw the real spear, hearing it slice the air just above his head. He was getting used to the split second of warning the Shadow Blade granted him. By the time Dakesh rose from dodging the spear, Kerberos' chain was half-way unwrapped from his body, swinging around and around him, gaining speed. He looked as though he was dancing, going through a series of complex but elegant and controlled movements that allowed him to unwind the chain quickly and efficiently.

  The spearhead flew in a circle around Kerberos. Within seconds it unwound enough to reach Dakesh. It sang through the air, whistling in front of his face then at stomach level a second later. Kerberos was metres away, and already leading a barrage of attacks difficult to avoid or block. The spearhead swiped at his throat, his feet, then his chest. Every swing of the chain was expertly placed. Every one would have been Dakesh's death if they connected, but he swayed away from each one, seeing where they would hit before they did. Blocking was useless; the chain was Thearan steel the same as the blade itself, heavy and strong.

  Suddenly the blade and chain disappeared. Almost instantly the spiked metal ball shot straight from Kerberos, cannoning into Dakesh's chest. He was smashed off his feet, the air forced from his lungs, and he landed heavily in the sand. Excited cheers swept through the watching Thearans. It happened so fast he thought the ball that hit him was another premonition.

  Kerberos watched him intently, neither smug nor concerned; just watching, weighing. Dakesh slowly pushed himself to his feet, panting and hunched over. Kerberos nodded.

  "No one has lasted as long for quite a while," he said. Dakesh couldn't tell if he was annoyed, or proud, or upset. He didn't think it was any of those. He sighed heavily.

  "We don't have to stop now."

  Kerberos laughed. In the same instant the spearhead shot from nowhere, streaking for Dakesh's heart. He ducked and swept his Kaizuun up horizontally at the same time, bracing the bladed end with his left hand. The heavy spearhead glanced off of Dakesh's sword with such force that it pushed him backwards in the sand a foot or so, jolting his entire body and sending sparks from the blades of their weapons. Kerberos swung it back around and launched it again, but this time Dakesh jumped over it. The spiked ball appeared, flying towards his chest again, but Dakesh twisted away in mid-air, one of the spikes tearing through the front of his vest and breaking skin.

  Dakesh landed knowing he needed to immediately roll to avoid a downward slash of the spearhead followed by another jump to dodge a low swipe from the spike ball. Desperate, he threw everything he had into focusing on his empty left hand, picturing a bright burning fireball. Without waiting, he made a throwing motion at Kerberos while still mid jump, landed and rolled, bringing his sword up ready for another attack.

  The crowd went silent. Dakesh realised he wasn't being attacked. He stared at where Kerberos had been, but instead saw him a few metres away from there on the ground, his chain strewn around him in the sand. Ke
rberos stood at the same time as Dakesh, a painful-looking scorch mark on his chest. Other than the burn, he didn't look harmed, and thankfully didn't look too angry either. They stood staring at each other, both wounded.

  Kerberos' mouth twitched in a slight smile, and he nodded to Dakesh.

  "Well done, Thearan!" he said, and the Thearans cheered.

  "Very impressive. But be clear, you still would not have won were this a fight to the death."

  The crowd jeered and laughed at Dakesh, but he didn't feel ashamed in the slightest. He smiled at Kerberos and nodded another bow at the Thearan leader. The fight went better than he thought it would, considering he thought there was a good chance he wouldn't survive at all. And he thought he'd seen the faintest glimmer of respect in Kerberos' eyes.

  Atillus

  Omatus was a giant city, split in half by the largest river in Omas, the Alpheus, and joined by a massive bridge. Each half of the city was a vast circle surrounded by an impenetrable stone wall. One side was home to all the citizens and merchants, and contained stores, inns, and other buildings. On the other side of the river sat the Royal Palace and the luxuriously huge palaces of the other noble families, along with a shopping district that made the stores on the commoners side look like dilapidated hovels.

  The Royal Palace was positioned in the centre of the noble side of the city, with its own stone wall forming a concentric circle parallel to the main city wall. The giant bridge that connected both sides of the city extended all the way to the Royal Palace's main entrance, where there was a courtyard for public announcements, trials and other such gatherings.