Tempest of Bravoure: Kingdom Ascent

by Valena D'Angelis

  This was too strange.

  Ahna still decided to peek once more. The muscle of his back stiffen as he seemed to be speaking to an invisible shadow. By the tone of his voice, he sounded frightened. He turned slightly, so she could see him from the side. He was staring intensely at his hand, which slowly began to disappear, along with his complete arm, then it reappeared again. Ahna blinked a few times. She thought her eyes were playing tricks on her.

  I must be delirious, she even thought for a second.

  As Cedric drew a fist, his clenched hand faded back into the void. His gaze was troubled, with a shadow of severe concern. Ahna gasped. Could this be…the whispers he heard, she could hear them too. A warning. A very frightening warning.

  She put her hand in front of her mouth and turned back. Cedric must have heard something because he immediately packed up his belongings and stormed out of the room. Ahna wanted to call for him, but she was bare, and he was gone in the blink of an eye. She hurried to get ready then headed to the ground floor.

  Outside the barracks of Orgna was the large square for loading and unloading supplies and to the left were the stables. To the right were a series of coops full of lively hens pecking around and about. The sun was setting over the mountain, and two shrikes and Squadron Five had already saddled their horses. They were ready to embark on the covert mission.

  Ahna met with stabler Jak Ma, another sindur, who showed her the different horses. The man-lynx wore a simple set of clothing, similar to a farmer’s attire. He had a dusty apron decorated with the symbols of Bravoure’s castle. Ahna wondered where he could have gotten such apparel, which was perhaps even older than he.

  Jak Ma was covered with beautiful thick fur that kept him warm at all times. His front paws extended into humanoid-like fingers, but they were adorned with razor-sharp claws, which he could draw and retract at will. With these hands, he could grasp objects and even wield a sword. His large feet were furry and closely resembled his feline ancestors’. He needed no shoes because his toes spread as they touched the ground. This made the sindur incredibly gifted at keeping balance when running or in combat. But the best equilibrium tool was his long tail, which wagged smoothly back and forth as he caressed each horse like he cherished them with his whole heart. Jak Ma was black as night, unlike his distant cousin’s auburn fur. And speaking of auburn, there was the lost brown steed!

  “Bark!” Ahna exclaimed. She trotted to her horse and went to check his every angle to see if he was all right.

  He appeared as healthy as ever. “Ah,” Jak joined her. “He’s your steed. A beautiful brown shire horse.”

  Ahna could not contain her excitement. “How long has he been here? Is he alright?”

  Jak laughed. “He arrived shortly after you! I guess he was looking for you. We took him in and gave him the care he needed. Not too much to worry about.”

  Bark looked like he was in excellent shape. Jak handed Ahna the reins, and she led her horse to the rest of the unit. Cedric joined them later on his grey mountain steed. The elf noticed the ornate bow that sent chills down her spine. She locked eyes with the marksman’s, wary of what would happen next. They left Orgna before sundown.

  The group of Resistance fighters loped through the plains of Bravoure. They had a full night and a day to travel to the harbor town, before the new moon. To stay away from the main travelled roads, they followed the southern uplands, at the edge of the Gurdal mounts. They headed east, toward a crossing with the Azul, the river that contoured the land. Once they reached the waterway, they knew they were close to East Haven.

  Before the crack of dawn, they set up camp between the hills, above the river. Jules lit a fire and summoned the others. He came to sit close to Ahna, between her and Lynn from Squadron Five. Lynn’s captain, Diego, the warrior with the eyes of Sud and the curled black hair of the sea, sat beside his peer Cedric. The four other swordsmen from Squadron Five were singing old campfire songs and drinking dwarven ale they had smuggled with them in leather canteens. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders and swung left and right to the rhythm of their melody.

  “And we sing, and we sing at the fire

  And the hells from the ghastly pyre

  Fade

  Away from us in glorious rain,

  Oh, in glorious rain, inglorious pain!”

  Ahna smiled at this joyous display. Diego applauded and cheered. “Don’t drink too much of that ale, George, we still need you for the mission!” The swordsmen laughed one after the other.

  Cedric was offered a sip of Diego’s cup. After a playful sigh of disapproval, he chugged the whole thing! The others clapped and praised happily.

  Lynn then turned to the silent dark elf. “You know, Ahna. It’s really only Cedric who doesn’t like you. We think you’re fine.” A kind smile appeared on her face. At least, she was honest. “Even if you were sithrax, we’d like you,” she then joked. Jules threw his cup at her to hush her. “What? Come on, everyone hates the sithrax! Even dark elves hate the sithrax, am I right?” She laughed, and the rest joined.

  After the crowd regained its calm, Lynn employed a more serious tone. “I’m obviously joking.” She searched for Ahna’s eyes and proceeded. “If we ever let race divide us, the Resistance would have lost its meaning.”

  Wisest words, Ahna thought. Lynn was so kind. She was cunning, beautiful, and most of all, she accepted Ahna even though she was dokkalfar. Just like her peers of Squadron Five, who seemed to not mind Ahna too much and even offered her a sip of ale!

  “How many soldiers are you, actually?” the elf asked Lynn, seeming to want to make conversation.

  “We have a couple of thousand fighters in total, all under David’s command,” she replied with pride. “Our recruitment program goes deep in the Bravoure underground, I’m sure Sharr still hasn’t figured it out!” As she took another sip of ale, she continued. “Cedric has about another hundred shrikes under his command. Most of us are human, but many other races have joined too. You have Luk Ma’s sindur scouts, high elf and wood elf rangers, even some of you!” Lynn kept on smiling as she told the tale of the rebellion. “Some even came from other lands, like Galies, to help with the cause.”

  Lynn had been with the Resistance for almost a decade. Ahna just noticed the red paintings on her arms, which told the story of her family. It was a Tazman tradition. Lynn’s thick black hair had a thousand coils, like a frizzed leonine mane. Her smile brought a kind of enthusiasm to Ahna’s heart, like a rallying ray of joy. In her life, Lynn had joined arms with other humans, elves, dokkalfar, and sindurs alike. She held no prejudice against any race. She preached the words of the Mother, who created all mortals to be equal.

  After a long pause, Ahna chuckled and looked at Lynn. “Maybe you can be Bravoure’s next leader!”

  Lynn laughed out loud. “I’m a soldier, not a leader.”

  As Ahna laughed with her, she noticed the gaze of her captain, Diego Levireo, rested on the elegant Taz woman. His aquiline nose followed her as she swayed around telling more of her story. A particular, familiar light shone in his eyes, that of a protector, a leader, but also, something more intimate. Ahna recognized this look. She had not seen it in decades, but she could instantly name the one flame as old as Terra.

  Diego stood up and signalled Cedric to follow him. They strolled away from the campfire and headed toward a dark poplar still close to the group.

  “Uh oh, trouble ahead,” one of the swordsmen said humorously as the two captains walked off.

  Once they were alone, Diego took a sip of his cup before speaking. “Some say Lynn is too trusting,” he began. “The Swords don’t mind the dark elf, but you, obviously, have your doubts.” He meant Cedric’s apparent disdain for Ahna.

  The shrike sighed. “I just wonder why the Council admitted her so easily, and why they put her on this mission.”

  Diego took a moment to respond. “They say David had a feeling?” As Cedric nodded, he resumed. “It’s all peculiar, indeed. B
ut Lynn is right, we mustn’t let race divide us.”

  The shrike scoffed and glanced at Diego, perplexed. “You hate dark elves as much as I do! Don’t hide behind this wise and righteous mask.” Cedric assertively shoved him in the shoulder, in the hopes of bringing his friend back to his senses.

  “Set your feelings aside, dai,” Diego kindly requested. “Just for this mission. It’s too important.”

  The shrike looked into his eyes, then took a deep, slow breath to calm himself down. “I haven’t had a rest in so long, I guess I need more of that ale!”

  Together, they headed back toward the campfire.

  “Bid sin a ’sein còmhla,

  Bid sin ag òl, ag òl, ag òl!

  Bid sin a ’dannsa còmhla,

  Tha sin a ’toirt ram don cheàrdach!”

  “So, we’re singing like dwarves now?” Lynn acclaimed. She joined the swordsmen in their old dwarven chants.

  Ahna was now alone with Jules by her side. The man was seemingly younger than Cedric, but he looked strong. His posture had the likeness of a history that weighed heavy on his shoulders. His blond hair reminded Ahna of the hay Bark loved, and the flames of the campfire reflected in his blue eyes. He took a sip of ale and turned to the elf.

  “So, do all dokkalfar know the mork shan?” he inquired, curious. “Also, when are you going to teach it to me?”

  Ahna chuckled loudly. “I feared you wouldn’t forget! And no”—she then smirked—“only the best of the best know the mork shan. And I’ll teach it to you, maybe another time.” She had said that with a mysterious coy. Jules blushed and looked back at the fire.

  As Ahna observed this unit of Resistance fighters, she understood the scars of an endless rebellion. These soldiers had felt the loss of many. They had endured hardship and pain. They had done things they probably regretted, had made choices that kept them awake at night, all in the name of the one cause that united them.

  And I was hiding, all this time.

  The sudden veil of guilt dropped on her shoulders. She looked at Jules, the handsome blond shrike who had lost his family to the Dark Lord. She glanced over to Diego, who had lost just as much. To the honorable swordsmen who sang by the campfire, who cheered triumphantly despite their wounds. Then, her gaze landed on Cedric, the troubled captain who dragged a past perhaps as obscure as hers. Her mind wandered off as she kept her eyes on the tall shrike.

  Lynn, who had noticed her staring, gently bumped her in the waist with her elbow. “Give him a bit of time,” the Taz woman cheered. “He’ll come around!”

  Ahna simply smiled. As time passed, the distant memories that roamed through her mind slowly drove her spirit away from the group. She saw the faces of the people with whom she had fought side by side when Lord Sharr and his army had raged through Bravoure. For a brief endearing moment, she relived her time at the Academy. The magi had welcomed her with open arms, back when peace governed over the kingdom, before the war.

  Ahna thought of a time long before any of these brave heroes, or maybe even their parents were born. A time further away into the past, when her family had fled from the sins of the Dwellunder. Her mother’s face passed behind her eyes and she exhaled deeply as she remembered her soothing voice.

  After a long pause, she finally stood up, waved at the group, and headed toward one of the burlap rolls she would use as a camping cot. She rested on the soft soil and picked one of the cowhides to keep warm. The others were still carousing. The sun would be rising soon, so they had a little time to sleep before resuming the mission. All around them, the hills were awakening with the music of passerine birds and the ringing of morning crickets. A sweet scent of spring flowers reached Ahna’s eager nostrils, and she closed her eyes for a brief moment.

  Dusk had fallen upon the hills and another day of travel was behind the rebel unit. The shrikes, as is the tradition at the Resistance spy wing, had painted their face with the kohl of war. Their captain laid in the tall grass above the hill, his eyes fixed on East Haven.

  “See, over there,”—Cedric pointed at the watchtower in the distance—“that’s the outpost.” The squad looked in the direction of the tower posted close to the village. “It’s small, only big enough to maintain ten or twelve soldiers. The main patrol is staged here. The others must already be near the docks.” The sun was already seeking refuge behind the mountains to the west. “Shrikes, you come with me.” The two nodded dutifully. With a single glance, Cedric signed his men to join him.

  “Squadron Five, we stand guard at the tower,” Diego ordered. “Ahna, you’re with us. Good luck, shrikes!”

  The night embraced the harbor town. The docks were surrounded by a small collection of houses, where only seamen and a few local merchants lived. At night, there was never much activity at the harbor.

  The squadron was placed at the edge of the forest. They had a direct line of sight with the watchtower and East Haven in the distance. Cedric, followed by Jules and the other shrike, headed out into the village. Jules was tasked with spreading the oil on Sharr’s fleet, while the rest would first take out the brazier, then set the harbor on fire. With the dexterity of the shrikes, they moved undetected between the mud roads and harbor houses.

  Once they got closer to the small pier, Cedric ordered Jules to circle around the perimeter, to get to the ships from the waterside. Docked close to the central square, there were two large carrier ships, black galleys, decorated with the red flag of Sharr. Three guards were standing in front of the vessels. They wore chainmail coats over their leathers, and appeared to be in deep conversation when Cedric hid in the darker corner of one of the harbor houses and observed them. From there, he had a clear view of the docks. He spotted Jules’ figure in the distance. His lieutenant was close to the furthest ship. The captain raised his hand in the air, with three fingers up, to signal his lieutenant to commence the attack. Jules acknowledged using the same signal, and he began climbing aboard the unmanned ships from the back. The other shrike silently moved to the alarm brazier. He placed a mask trap between the coal chunks that when lit, would spread inside the container and prevent the flames from rising.

  As Jules prepared to move to the second ship, another man walked out of a dark corner near the guards. The man strolled toward the watchers. He wore what appeared to be a long robe, and it was almost as though the others answered to him. His face could not be seen. As he stepped in the middle of the square, Cedric heard him murmur something inaudible. Before any could react, a sudden slight breeze caressed the stones of the harbor ground. The shrikes did not dare to move. When Cedric felt the wind’s soft stroke against his cheek, the robed man turned straight toward him.

  “Dryak kri!” he shouted to the guards—a war call.

  They unsheathed their swords and prepared for battle. In a flurry, Cedric had drawn his bow, his hand clenched firmly around the riser. He released a crushing arrow that pierced straight through one of the guards. The dokkalfar soldier squealed in torment and collapsed to the ground. Cedric charged his next opponent. Meanwhile, his peer sprung out of the shadows and swung his sword at the other guard.

  But the robed man had foreseen his move. He turned to the human assailant and uttered a series of three unknown words, katl a frumur.

  A slow dance of blinding bolts spurred from the robed man’s shoulder up until his hand. The serpentine lights flickered around his fingers and formed a shocking wave that cut through the air and travelled straight to the shrike’s heart. The roar of the lightning strike shook the earth beneath them.

  Cedric’s comrade was dead. The captain’s jaw dropped, struck by the realization of what had happened. “Warlock!” he yelled.

  The robed man turned back to the shrike captain and prepared for the next lightning strike. Cedric swiftly dodged the thunderbolt and took a dive at the second guard, who was pushed to the side by the aggressive blows of his shortsword. The guard then leapt backwards and parried Cedric’s next cut. But the shrike’s cut transformed into a powerful t
hrust that forced the guard to let go of his weapon. In the swift swing of a blade, Cedric cut off his head clean.

  When he heard the third shockwave be launched, the captain pulled the final guard toward him. With a swift flick of the wrist, he plunged his sword through his back. The blade surged instantly out of his ribcage, then the shrike moved him in the path of the lightning. The body was turned to ashes. Cedric’s eyes met the warlock’s as the scorched carcass hit the ground.

  “You cannot run, human,” the dark man warned.

  Jules had seen his peer die at the hands of the dokkalfar warlock. He had made his way to the second ship and emptied the last flask of oil he carried. He hoped to get off the galley as fast as he could, set the whole place on fire, and run. Cedric was facing the robed man alone. Jules saw the warlock prepare yet another strike.

  Between the thunder clashes, the lieutenant jumped off the ship onto the dock. He pulled out his sword and went straight for their opponent’s turned back. Though at that moment, the warlock quickly swerved toward him and held his hand high. He shouted another incantation, a short combination of muffled words and Jules was suddenly immobilized. The shrike rose above the ground, his arms and legs completely paralyzed. His neck felt as though he was being smothered by an invisible force.

  “Drop your sword, human, or I will end your pathetic friend,” he commanded Cedric. The latter heard the nearing movement of another patrol in the distance, and he regrettably contemplated the possibility of failure.

  “Ahna, get back!” Lynn yelled.

  A roar of distant thunder reverberated the space.

  “Ahna!” Lynn called again.

  Another clash.

  “Something is wrong, Lynn,” Ahna shouted. “I can feel it.”

  As their glance landed over the outpost, they saw the armed patrol of Sharr marching fast toward the village. Lynn called Diego, and he signed the rest of his men to head out to battle.