Epistem- Rise of the Slave King's Heir

by Jani Griot

  We are the Epistem. We are the men who brought fire from gods’ hands and warmed the hearts of men. We are the living ascended that rule in both light and dark. The only lights born with the magic bestowed by god himself. We are Vassilious! Vola said.

  Will you follow in the path of the true king’s light? Will you take the throne of your people and free the land of fear? Will you conquer all, in all things before you? For only those who don’t fear the dark, cast by light, may control the throne of power.

  He stared down at me as we continued. My eyes drifted back toward more of the pictures. One after another, each with different traits as if each were painted in a different temperate zone or climate. Those were the only big differences. The red cloak was in every painting, worn by males and females alike.

  They all also seemed to have different pieces of the same armor. In one, they may have had a single gauntlet, another may have two gauntlets, grasping a large, ruby and gold-hilted great sword. The higher we went, the more the people depicted were shrouded from head to toe, with the occasional man or woman wearing nothing but the cloak. Usually, those painting involved the wearer saving a life or sneaking past a royal guard.

  This is a place of power. You should feel your connection to Ark here. The more of his armor you gain, the stronger you will become. You must find it all before you can take back the throne and fulfill our family's promise to Mother Nature. To make her lands both safe and free for all who roam them.

  I looked up at him. My mind whirled with his words, bringing understood correlations to the images they were tied to. I had not been taught the concepts of lineage or monarchies, nor had I been shown what the exchange of goods and services did for a people. Yet, here I was, being told, in a roundabout way, that I was needed to protect all those who were without power in the kingdom of Vassilious.

  I was expected to rule in the shadows, only rising to action in the name of freedom and true justice. I was expected to be powerful and prepared—to live with lives in the balance. Yet, I couldn't even answer the age-old call to arms required by my ancestry.

  Vola's eyes shifted. He was waiting for a response to the question his father asked him, and his father before him.

  What's wrong, boy? Can you not speak? Don't tell me the old blood families have finally bred fear into the Vassilious, he said.

  My mouth hung open slightly. My voice cracked and my tongue was weighted as I tried to respond, a jittering, soft squeak that expressed more to Vola than the words he was waiting for.

  Where are your words, boy? Have you not been taught to... Vola looked even fiercer as the truth began to strip hope for his son from his face.

  You must find PRO in the entrance to—he started.

  He was cut off by a series of loud crashes and bangs, followed by the clash of swords.

  “Fury! We have to get out of here!” The boy yelled.

  I looked down the curving steps, toward the drumming of feet I heard charging in my direction. I glanced back toward Vola to see that the ghostly image of my father had disappeared. The next instant I was charging toward the battle ahead.

  I thank Ark for not giving me the tools to truly decipher my father’s words then, I think it may have clouded my resolve.

  “No, no,” said the boy, quickly, as he and the girl charged past me, sprinting in the opposing direction. My speed forced me around a turn that lead me directly into the line of sight that the two had been running from.

  “Run, you idiot!” screamed the girl from above.

  The wall of men I almost collided with was ranks deep and spanned the width of the stairs. Silver-plated armor and weapons as far as the eye could see. As if the entire army had been summoned to chase after us.

  I roared, the cloak’s defensive cloud emerging as I jumped toward the thickly woven group of enemies.

  “What in Ark's shimmering grace is he thinking?” yelled the girl from the air directly above me.

  “He's Arking mad,” said the boy as he jumped into the cloud of red mist.

  The tide of the skirmish was highly unexpected. The shield surged with electricity. Sparks tore through the cloud as I slapped aside soldier after soldier. Lightning arcs chained, linking struck opponents to other soldiers in the crowd. The boy and I dismantled anyone bold enough to challenge us, which in a world of warriors, was everyone. My final blow was to the mid-section of a guard who lashed out toward me. I spotted the sigil of two coins, each tossed on opposite ends, which represented the merchants.

  Boom!

  The wave of the blast shook the stairs. A circle of lightning expanded through the crowd, which was encompassed by the red mist in an instant. Men were sent clear over the railing and hurdled down to an immediate death. Others lay stunned by bolts of electricity, their hearts stopped by the punishing force.

  I straightened as the cloud retracted back into the cloak, like a tornado forming in reverse. I could see the men we had fought. Most lay strewn about, like a child's misplaced toys. The heat of the girl’s flames warmed my back. Turning around, I saw her turn a line of men into barbecue, shouting fire from her lungs in life-vanquishing flames.

  The boy was at her back, holding two swords, his stance daring anyone to come closer. The massive group of men stood and stared slack-jawed at the three of us. Dead men by the dozens lay at their feet, and their assailants unscathed. Their fear had become a physical presence in the air, holding them in place.

  Those bodies, raw, bloodied, and lifeless—they stirred something within me. Something that brought me back to the years of endless torture I’d suffered at the hands of Lady Ezra.

  We inched our way back up the steps, careful not to take our eyes from the large group of men and women before us.

  “They can’t kill us all,” screamed a man in the back of the crowd.

  “They’re merely children. We can crush them if we stampede over them!” came a call from the middle.

  “Even if we all split the bounty, we would still have better lives,” yelled a woman in the front, banging her sword against her shield.

  The boy and girl were at my side now, pulling me into a run up the stairs, away from the mob.

  “I’ll run out of fire long before all of them are dead, Fury,” whispered the girl.

  “I think we should—” the boy started, cut off at the sight of Aemillious with his golden armor and sword who strutted to the head of the pack, ranking him above all who stood behind him.

  “Run,” the boy said.

  “Yes, run, little slaves,” screamed Aemillious as he drew his blade, pointing toward us. And where he pointed, the mob charged.

  We ran without any plan of escape. In a few moments we were near the top of the stairs. I’d returned to where I’d begun. Only, I could see the refraction of light that produced Vola’s image.

  My father. Shaking his head as me and my troupe scattered like so many rats in the shadows of the slave pits. Vola stood next to a painting of a man, sitting in a throne engulfed by light.

  That man was holding the shield I now held, along with a large, ruby-bladed great sword. He also donned the entirety of the Armor of Vassilious. This painting dwarfed the others. None of them were as finely crafted. The illuminated man was Ark, the first king of Vassilious. And he looked exactly like me.

  Find PRO, my son, Vola yelled as he shifted formlessly back into light as the boy and the girl pulled me through his ghostly image. I looked back at the painting and Vola.

  Find Endless, he yelled down the grand hall at me. His features vanishing in the wind of the swarming attackers.

  We rushed into a large room at the end of the hall and the boy slammed the door shut while the girl breathed, screaming fire, and melted the lock.

  “How the hell are we supposed to get out now?” said the boy in a frantic state. Frenetic, I thought. The word came from nowhere, but I knew it. The boy was frenetic. His eyes shifted back and forth as his chest heaved, taking in deep but short breaths.

  “If they make it
through that Arking door, we will have more problems than a few cinders!” said the girl, rolling her eyes.

  “We have bigger problems. Four of the Honorborn families have joined forces to take Vassilious. The battle plans were already in progress, from what I could tell. Things are going to get worse for us from here on out if the families are warring. The first to die in those battles are always the ones at the bottom.” The boy’s eyes intensified as he spoke.

  “Avery has been buying Dragons for a few months now. He should have enough magic and troops to cause a real threat to the high power. Don’t worry though, I’ll take care of you, darling. By my honor, as the heir to the Sun Sky Kingdom,” she said, resting her palm on his face. The boy froze before slapping the girl’s hand away and responding.

  “That would make you a Dragon,” he started, before he noticed me.

  I had gone to the far end of the room. It was a lavishly decorated bedroom, fit for a king. In fact, it was the king’s room. One of the few rooms fitted with well-like holes that sat far above the cove below, they allowed a slave to fetch water from a pulley system of water buckets than ran throughout Sand Mountain.

  I stood on the well's rim, three or so feet above the floor, looking down into the cove from the highest possible point. Avery's purple sails flexed to the brim as the large ship blew through the cove. It looked like a model ship floating on a puddle from our vantage point, taking away from the deadly rush of water that sat below.

  “Fury! What are you doing?” asked the boy. The crimson blade materialized before me, filling me with intensity. I could see Ezra, sitting, unmoving on the sea-bound vessel, bound by the same kind of shackles that had hampered the girl’s magic.

  The shield's face filled with colorful sparks. I glanced back at the boy before giving him a smile.

  “Don’t get any crazy ideas, Fury,” he spoke with his hand outstretched toward me as he inched closer, his eyes darting from me to the space below. He likely feared I would fall. But I didn’t. Falling is accidental.

  I leaned forward, and my weight took over. Shooting through the hole like an arrow in target practice. The boy charged toward the open circle and tried to jump after me. He made it as far as the hole’s mouth before the girl stopped him.

  “Get off! Ark! Fury! What are you doing?” echoed behind me.

  I emerged from the base of the well and a gust of wind flung me into the sky. Air wrapped me up, pushing me slightly off course. Instead of landing in the water next to the boat as I intended, I was headed directly for the boat. I lifted the shield before my face, blocking the sharp air pockets I was sinking through. I could no longer see my path, and streaks of light and sparks trailed from the shield all the way up to my feet.

  Brilliant light surrounded me, carving a path through the air. Another storm brewed within the cloak which produced a red fog. The redness surrounded me, yet I could see through the shield. The reflection of the glasslike inner walls of Sand Mountain beamed a dazzling spectrum of colors into the cove.

  Suddenly, the boat was below me, yet I hadn’t moved the shield an inch. It was still blocking my path, but I could see the ship as if I were seeing directly through the shield itself.

  Guards yelled “Incoming!” as they anticipated my impending collision. I barely had time to process what was going on with the shield before impact was imminent.

  The impact I made caused an explosion of light and electricity which masked the thunder of splitting wood. Sailors flew overboard, only to receive additional torture once plunged into water. I had not only electrified the boat, but the sea as well. Sparks hissed and then fizzled out in the water where newly deceased men floated. The sails were ablaze, as was most of the ship.

  I stood as fast as my sore body would allow. I winced as I touched my side. I had certainly broken several ribs, but I couldn’t determine how many. I watched pirates and sailors fill the ship’s deck.

  Water spilled in from a punctured baseboard, making for uneasy footing for some of the men. I hadn’t spent cycles sailing at sea like those men but cleaning the high walls of Vassilious had taught me grace and balance. The air fought unforgivingly, regardless of the time of day. The tides could be predicted, but wind was chaos. I did my best to stay on my feet, but exhaustion threatened to sink me along with the ship.

  Avery stormed out of his now dark captain’s quarters. “You just don’t learn do you, boy?” He was already drawing two of the swords he had hung on his belt.

  What’s in a Name?

  Khalif flew above Sand Mountain, watching as his Dragon set men and women alike on fire. Somehow the girl had escaped and was now not only traveling with Ochloc’s slave, but his brother as well. As he floated above the scene, he pondered how he would explain what he was seeing to his father. He settled on as many lies soaked in truth as he could think of.

  Volantes’s face swirled into Khalif’s view, interrupting his train of thought and nearly making him jump. His father’s countenance was built of the swarm of clouds that surrounded him, only making the man’s normally imposing features more unnerving.

  “Have you completed the tasks assigned to you, my son?” the Sky King boomed, seemingly angry already. Khalif looked to the mountain below at a set of war tents blooming with different colored flames.

  “My final stroke is upon us, Father,” said Khalif. The mountain of clouds shifted as the god’s expressions did, changing from anger to curiosity.

  “What have your plans produced? This should have been handled by now, boy,” shouted the thunderhead.

  “They’ve produced… quite a bit, Father,” said Khalif, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to keep it even.

  “Avery’s not only in possession of Ochloc’s daughter…” started Khalif, before trailing off.

  “Speak!” roared the Sky King. Lightning burst within the clouds.

  Khalif’s heart leapt, but his body remained still. “He is in possession of a relic from the high realm. Ochloc’s son will recapture the Dragon and the slave boy for me, but I couldn’t retrieve the piece in its current condition,” said Khalif as he tucked his frozen fingertips into his cloak. “It is very powerful, Father, and I don’t know what will happen if Ochloc can obtain it before I do. It may tip the power balance in their favor.”

  “What about the boy?” asked the Sky king. Khalif looked away. Volantes had never given the boy a name, which made Khalif one of the first of his father’s sons to break the naming tradition.

  “He may be lost to us. I sent him in too deep and the slave’s magics may corrupt his mind. The slave is a Fury,” explained Khalif. “Circumstances only came to this because of that Fury’s involvement with the boy. They slew an entire patrol of guards in moments. Mercilessly. The boy’s blooming magics and the slave’s magics seemed connected somehow, powerfully synergized in nature,” noted Khalif.

  The Sky King’s image swelled, and thunder boomed all around. “For the loss of my seed, they will pay. His corruption is the final nail in their coffins. I will fill the sky with clouds saturated in univers. You!” Volantes’s eyes snapped to Khalif. “Open a gate to the chaos realm and let the effects wash over them. None will survive the confusion. The gate will stay open so long as my power remains within the clouds,” commanded Volantes.

  Khalif focused on the battle below as it grew more rambunctious. He knew the effects of the gate his father spoke of. He wondered how it would alter the ongoing situation. In times past, the gate created an effect opposite to what its name suggested, causing men and woman to be enamored by scenes of chaos, leaving them watching frozen.

  “Are you sure, Father? I still have many useful pieces in play below and I may be able to save my…” attempted Khalif, though he caught himself before calling the boy his brother. He had the desire to save the boy. This surprised him, and he was unable to force the sensation aside.

  “Any boy weak enough to fall to the whimsical rage of the Furies is no son of mine,” said the Sky King with more authority than K
halif had heard in the man’s tone. This was a king denouncing his celestial heir. Khalif had seen it many times before and knew he would again. Who knew how many brothers and sisters he truly had over the endless span of his father’s life? Not he.

  Khalif didn’t want to summon the gate. That would require that he use the Sun Lion Diamond, which was a flower that blossomed only in destruction. The light of it hovered over his palm as he contemplated. The last time its red light filled the sky, he had been moments from killing a god as an entire battlefield watched on. No man or woman could look away as Khalif fought. Until it was over. It was then that true chaos spread and Khalif ended the lives of all who witnessed his actions in a burst of power as friend and foe alike killed one other with abandon. He couldn’t bear the thought of reliving that history, let alone recreating it.

  But he’d been ordered to do just that.

  Khalif bowed his head. “It will be done, Father.”

  He looked into the distant moving storm of sand, which ripped toward the mountain below.

  He watched Ochloc race across the desert as the growing sandstorm formed and chased his heels. Each step pushed him farther and faster than the last.

  The king was coming, leaving nothing to chance. This was Khalif’s opportunity to kill his father’s newest enemies. And though the very thought churned his stomach, he would not fail.

  Khalif stretched his arms out from his sides and his gauntlets began to glow, floating from under his cloak and onto his hands. He spoke the words of Arcana stretched across the top of the gate. The air distorted around him. The spell was so powerful that focus runes (which were not normally necessary while using Elementalist gauntlets) appeared in Khalif’s palms. The Sun Lion Diamond expanded outward, its light soared through the air like tendrils of a dandelion, but with the purpose of lightning.

  He had to focus on setting a boundary, for the gate’s effects could kill him if preformed incorrectly. The man who taught him the spell lost his life the last time he used it, being sucked into the gate after his concentration slipped.