Chapter 27
Vengeance
Vengeance does not heal. It only brings more death. -Kolram
--
With the birth of night, Jazlyn’s death neared. This would be her final sunset, her final night in this world. Perhaps the Land Beyond this one would be a kinder place. With every end comes something new, and so rose the green moon. Jazlyn had never gazed upon the third moon before, except with infant eyes. The moon seemed as terrifying as it was majestic.
The astronomical experience might have been more inspiring had she not been awaiting her death bound and gagged. Gags were aptly named, she realized, for they did indeed induce a profound desire to retch. The tall, gangly guard from the Plague Room, guided her towards the center of the inner ring.
Jazlyn’s entourage had camped overnight in Deep Woods. She spent a restless night listening to the mustachioed fool blabbering to a rotund guard about Raslonian ice fishing. It was as if they were heading off to a picnic rather than a slaughter.
Viciousness was one thing. It was what beasts did. But it was the banality of the guard's evil that struck Jazlyn as perverse. It was as if he took the cordiality society ought to have been about and flipped it over, revealed the vermin crawling beneath.
I was just as bad, sitting by watching my father arrest all these innocents while I sipped my tea and did needlework. I sat by unquestioning, unreactive, just as these guards will be as they watch me murdered.
Jazlyn found herself positioned next to Asgaroth’s entrapped body.
"There I am," Asgaroth said smugly. It had been sixteen years since he’d laid eyes on his body.
The moonlight glinted off the chain hauberks of Flickers and the bone-grafted steel of the Raslonian soldiers, turning them into an emerald army. In the inner ring stood Dakarth, Dracon, and Chief Prophet, Crow. Jazlyn’s father and Crow had Royal Companions, Oz Strongfist and Morz Lightningblade standing on either side of him. Dakarth had burly bodyguards of his own, wearing gilded bones.
The mustachioed Flicker dragged Jazlyn past Asgaroth towards the one-eyed Skymaster. When Gar had possession of Jazlyn he turned to one of his men and said, "Alright, tell them to fly in the rest of the prisoners."
Skywolves hauled in more and more prisoners, mostly mages Jazlyn didn't recognize. The prisoners were placed in two groups: one near Asgaroth's body and a larger group on the other side of the inner ring near the dais where the Dracon stood.
A queue of skywolves formed, awaiting their turn to land and deliver their prisoners. The captives from the Sky Raider camp looked even more pitiful than the ones from the Plague room, something Jazlyn would not have thought possible a few days ago. They appeared skeletal and many had stumps where fingers ought to have been. Beneath the blanket of voices and clatter, Jazlyn heard the rhythmic beating of the Heart Stone.
The cold metal of Gar's knife tickled Jazlyn's neck. By Gar’s side was his skywife, wearing a tiara and a bruised eye to mark her dualistic position of being at once powerful and powerless.
"Soon my sons will free me as prophesized," Asgaroth said.
"Sons? Dakarth is here, but what of Karsgoth?"
"Karsgoth is here. Has always been right under your smug Helesian noses. Every idea your father ever thought was his own was planted by my sons.”
Karsgoth was here? Where? She scanned the room and her eyes settled on Crow’s lacquered beak… not where, but who.... who had guided the Dracon to this juncture? Whose counsel had her father been swallowing? Who wore a mask at all times and never let his true face be seen? Who practiced prophecy like Karsgoth had, yet wore an animal mask, more common for a Magic-Finder than a Splasher?
Did her father know the truth? Even if he didn't, even if she could somehow get her gag off, and tell him, would it change anything? He was getting his power, and probably cared not at all for the consequences.
Her father adjusted his crimson veil and crown. The Dracon strode up to Gar. "You agreed to bring your daughter for the ritual. Where, pray tell, are the hosts of Kolram, Jijari, and Solita?”
Gar reddened. "Jijari’s and Solita’s hosts escaped. I've sent men out to recapture them. My daughter and Kolram are on their way. I’m not sure what’s taking so long. Goat, go and check on Isel."
Goat nodded and clambered onto his skywolf.
The Heart Stone beat on, the moon rose.
--
The icy ground raced by below Wayden. The memory of Isel's bloody body falling from the wolf came back to him. Life was so easy to snuff out. Too easy. He could understand the temptation someone like Gar or the Dracon felt. They could kill so easily, it must become second nature to men like that. Would Wayden become like them, carelessly leaving corpses without a second thought?
His fear of approaching danger grew stronger as the distant stone fist drew closer with every beat of the dragon’s wings. They were flying towards certain death. Yet of the myriad of emotions competing inside of him, it was delight that won through.
"I'm a dragon rider!” he shouted. “I’m wraithin' riding on a dragon!"
"Don't fall off," Alaina chided.
She sounded calm. Wayden supposed for her this wouldn't be too different than riding on a skywolf. The dragon ride was exciting, but it was only a close second to the feel of the girl’s kiss. He was hyper-aware of Alaina, squeezing him from behind. He wondered if she'd let him kiss her again.
"Focus, young Wayden,” Kolram said, “One needs a mind as sharp as a razor's edge when one flies into battle."
They were less than a league from Dark Fist. Rays of sun cast brilliant reds and purples across the snow. As they flew, the rim of the third moon rose, lighting the sky in an emerald hue.
The third moon was a sight to behold. It was easily as large as Dark Fist itself. Wayden had heard that even the regular moons pulled at the tides, but on a night of the Three Moons, sailors kept their boats off the water or in harbor. Beaches and shorelines weren’t safe from the huge waves that would roll in.
As the sky darkened, Wayden’s mood sobered as well.
What was he doing? He was making decisions so quickly, could he be sure he was making the right choice? He was flying towards certain death. And…he had kissed...the Skymaster’s daughter. He’d sworn vengeance on the Sky Raiders, not to kiss their daughters. But the kiss had felt so good- if it was wrong, why did it feel so right? The last seven years had been not much more than bleakness after bleakness. This was like a tulip bursting through the ice.
"It felt pleasurable, but that does not make it right,” Kolram said, “Solita is my wife."
"Yours, not mine. I said no vows," Wayden thought. "This is my life, Kolram. I'm sorry you lost yours, but you can't live vicariously through me."
"I know...it's just so frustrating."
"Someday, we'll find a way to return you to your own body."
"How? Where would I go? My own body is decayed and gone. If I were sucked out of you, I would likely just enter some other baby and have the same problem all over again."
"I don't know. There must be a way. I only hope we live to find it."
A figure on a skywolf emerged from Dark Fist. Bathed in green moonlight, he could make out the lacquered mask of a goat.
“Harth, that is Goat,” Wayden communicated to the dragon. “An enemy.”
“Harth knows the tracker who hounded and made Harth a helpless thrall. Be he man or goat, he shall be repaid in flame.”
Wayden thought of Isel falling from the wolf and for a moment felt nauseated, but then he steeled himself. He nodded. "Do it."
Harth sucked in air, neck sacs ballooning, and streams of black smoke rising from her nostrils. Her scaly hide grew warm and then she exhaled. An orange ball of flaming gas hurdled through the air, spits of light spiking out from the fiery sphere.
Goat screamed as dragon flame spread up and down his body. The Magic-finder's lacquered mask fell away, revealing a man screaming in pain. Wayden felt a moment of
remorse, seeing how ordinary Mavik's kidnapper was beneath his otherworldly disguise. Then Goat plummeted, his body buffeted by the wind, thumping against the edge of the Anvil, and finally coming to a rest on the snow below. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the air.
Revenge was like eating a whole apple crumble. It looked sumptuous at first, but it left you sick. Goat had done terrible things, but to see a man charred to death like a haunch of meat on a spit- Wayden was more disgusted than satisfied.
"Vengeance does not heal,” Kolram said. “It only brings more death."
"At least there has been justice. The man who helped burn my home to the ground himself has been burned."
"Goat sealed his own fate, with that assertion I will not argue,” Kolram said. “Still, he was just a pawn of Gar. The true enemy is near."
Too near. Wayden could taste Gar's power even from here. How much stronger would it be when Wayden and Gar were face to face?
--
Jazlyn prayed to the rising moon, a powerful emerald behemoth filling the sky. Cold air blew in through the breeched wall. Some of the Flickers held torches that wavered in the wind.
"Source, if you can hear me, answer my prayers. Stop this madness," Jazlyn thought.
"You're a fool,” Asgaroth said, “There is no Source. The Silver Goddess is the true power."
The woman's voice Jazlyn heard before spoke again. "You're wrong, Asgaroth. The Source is real and it shall guide Jazlyn."
"Who are you?" Jazlyn asked the woman.
“You know who I am, my daughter.”
Mother…tears filled Jazlyn’s eyes. The locket felt warm against her neck, a respite of warmth from the freezing cold wind. Gol had said her mother owned this necklace. Could her mother be speaking through the locket somehow? But how?
Jazlyn saw a memory flit through her mind: Asgaroth clutching a diamond brooch, shaped like a flower.
"Lyssa," he’d called. "Lyssa can you hear me?"
“I’m here, my darling,” a woman’s voice called from the jeweled pin.
Asgaroth yanked the memory away, growling, “That memory is not for you.”
"Were you able to speak to Lyssa through the brooch?"
"Get out of my mind."
"If you get out of mine."
"Soon enough."
Dakarth stepped onto a raised dais, joining the Dracon, and pointed his hand towards the rising moon. “It is almost time.”
“My job is done,” Gar said.
"Done?” The Dracon asked. “Where is the Sky Daughter, bearer of the Grandmistress of Flame? Where are the hosts of the other Grandmasters? Jijari, Kolram, and Solita were in your possession supposedly. You did not deliver your full promise, and it will halve your profits."
"I think not.” Gar pressed the knife tip against Jazyln's throat. “You’ll give me my price or your daughter will pay."
The Dracon glowered, but said nothing as Crow ordered the Flickers, “Give the Skymaster the gold.” Ozacs loaded bulging sacks onto skywolves.
Crow and Dakarth don't want me to die until they could pry Asgaroth's soul from me, Jazlyn thought. After that, they’ll kill me themselves or send me to the Isle of the Loons.
Gar made a mock bow. "We’ll take our leave now. I'll take your daughter with me for insurance that your men don't practice archery on me during my flight out of here."
Dakarth grabbed Gar's arm and for a moment the dictator and the one-eyed Sky Raider were a hair’s breadth apart. Dakarth's voice was a hiss. “You'll leave the girl. You'll have your gold and leave alive. Otherwise, I will make it my life goal to give you the most painful death you ever imagined. So what will it be- gold or death?"
Gar’s face reddened, but he mumbled. “Very well.”
The Skymaster released Jazlyn's arm, but it brought her little relief. It didn’t matter which wolf ate her, she’d be just as dead.
Gar and Yveka climbed on the back of a huge skywolf. "Sky Raiders. With me." The wolves jingled as they flew off the ground.
--
Wayden was conscious of Alaina's arms clasped around him, the warmth of her body against his own. The moon was higher over temple Dark Fist now, painting the snow into jade glass. Wayden traced the tip of his finger against the back of Alaina’s hand.
“Hey boy, just because I gave you a kiss, don’t think I'm your betrothed now. It was only because we’re flying to our deaths, alright? If we live through this maybe I’ll let you take me to a fancy ball or something. Whatever you Lava-Heads do.”
"Lava-Heads?"
"Red Landers. Helesians. Whatever you go by."
"Lava Heads?"
A dozen Sky Raiders emerged from the breached wall. Wayden felt Gar Skymaster’s presence before he even made out his figure saddling the lead skywolf.
Wayden had been face to face with Gar just a notch ago, but somehow this was different. This was it. The chance to face off against Gar that he had dreamt of for so long. Yet instead of feeling elated, Wayden felt cold terror grip him. It was one thing to imagine facing off with the Skymaster, another to actually go up against one of the most powerful men in the world. Even Harth, sensing Gar's power, was quivering.
The dragon stopped flying and merely used its wings to hover. Gar’s entourage was almost as impressive as the Skymaster himself. The Sky Raiders were enormous and muscle bound, riding upon equally fierce looking winged beasts. The Skymaster’s wife looked at least as tough as Gar did, seated behind the one-eyed tyrant.
Gar pulled the reins of his skywolf, bringing him to a halt, a dozen feet from Harth. Slobber dripped from his wolf's maw.
“Daughter,” Gar bellowed. “What do you think you’re doing? That's my dragon you are riding. And your prisoner seems to have lost his bonds. I suggest retying them.”
"No."
With that one word, Wayden felt both admiration for Alaina and shame of his own fearfulness. He vowed he would try to be as brave as his emerald princess.
"No?" Gar turned to catch the eye of one of the other Sky Raiders prompting them to laugh. Then after a moment of this mummer's show, Gar held up his hand and they fell silent. "Alaina, dear heart. Don’t do something you’ll regret."
Alaina’s jaw quivered and her voice came out strong and sharp as a knife. "I have many regrets, Father. You have laid hands on many skywives and, to my shame, I said nothing. You enslaved Laeko. I said nothing. So I have many regrets, father, but this… this is not one of them. I’ll not be the Tyrant’s daughter."
Wayden noticed as Alaina distracted him, Gar's powers seemed minutely diminished. “If I can throw Gar off balance, get him angry, maybe then, Harth and I can beat him.”
“I can think of no better plan,” Kolram said.
Wayden laughed aloud in what he hoped would be taken as a mocking tone, though his insides felt liquid. "Gar, the great Skymaster. You can’t even rule your own daughter, much less the sky.”
“I rule what I want to rule.”
Wayden tried to push against Gar’s power, but if it had rattled the Skymaster’s hold, it wasn't enough. He needed a new plan.
“You hide behind your little trinket, your necklace is what truly gives you power.” Wayden tried to catch the Skywife’s eye. She was looking at him with her non-swollen eye, but Wayden had no idea if she had gotten the message.
Gar curled his lip. "What did you say?"
"Are you deaf as well as stupid and cruel? Look how you treat your wife.” Again Wayden caught the Skywife’s eye. “You think because your necklace makes you so strong that you can treat people like you treat your animals, with heartless cruelty. In truth, it's you who is the beast."
"You're just like Kolram,” Gar spat. “So pompous. We'll see how superior you feel when I force the dragon to eat you piece by piece.”
Yveka's knife flashed, cutting the sinew. The pearls fell from the necklace into the swirling snows below.
Wayden and Harth felt Gar's power slip away, diminishing with every falling pearl.
Before Wayden could answer, a point of a knife burst through Gar's neck, a spray of blood running down his cloak. The Skymaster's jaw dropped. Then Yveka pulled the knife out, cut Gar’s leg straps, and shoved him off the wolf. Gar plummeted to the icy ground below.
“I told him not to hit me.” Yveka wiped the blood from her blade. “Men. They never listen.” She shook out her long blue hair. “I should have done that ages ago, but I wanted to wait until Gar got me my gold." Yveka turned her wolf to face the other Sky Raiders. "I claim the mantle of the Sky. If anyone denies my claim speak now and taste my blade. I killed the he-wolf, and I will end anyone else who stands in my way. Join me and we will reclaim the old ways of the Sky Riders. We will share in this coin equally."
One of the Sky Raiders said, "Follow a woman? I’d rather f-"
A knife whirled through the air and thumped into the Sky Raider's forehead. He plummeted to the ice below. Yveka drew another blade.
"Anyone else want to challenge the Daughter of the Wolf?"
The Sky Raiders glanced at each other. They saluted with pumped fists and chanted, "Hail, Yveka Skymistress. May the winds be with you."
Yveka let out a triumphant howl. If Wayden hadn't seen it come from her lips, he would have sworn it came from a wolf.
Yveka turned towards Alaina. “As for you Alaina, you are no enemy to me, but you are no longer Skydaughter. Gar seized the power, but now he is gone, and the true daughter of the Wolf reigns again. You can have your freedom, Alaina, daughter of the dead. I bear you no enmity, but no friendship shall you claim either. If we meet again, I will not be so generous.”
Alaina nodded. “So be it. Farewell, Yveka, Mistress of the Sky.”
Yveka tugged her reins, letting out another spine tingling howl. The wolf flew towards the Nest, Sky Raiders struggling to keep pace behind her, wolves overladen with the bulging sacks. Wayden hoped she would use her new found power and wealth wisely.
“I’m sorry about your father. And losing your pack,” Wayden said.
“Maybe it’s for the best. Laeko used to say sometimes you have to get lost to be found.”
“Don’t you hate prophets?”
“I know! Can’t they ever speak plainly?”
Wayden glanced down. A blood stain splattered the snow near the gargantuan obsidian boulder known as the Skull. He always thought he’d be the one to finish off Gar. Still, there was nothing wrong with having a little help from time to time. He scanned for Gar’s body, but it wasn't there. Had it been buried by the snow? An uneasy feeling made the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. Whatever happened to Gar, Wayden had no time for it now. He had a murderous sacrifice to stop.
He spurred the dragon towards the Fist.
--
Mavik struggled to remain calm as a dozen scagazi burst through the ground. He needed to free the Shadow Queen. There was no other hope.
"Something is wrong,” Jijari said, “Why did the Source lead us to this den of evil?”
"Well, you're the one always telling me to have faith in the Source. Let's have faith then. It’s that or let the scagazi finish us."
Mavik grabbed the metal wires binding the milk-white woman. Emerelda had pushed back the Guardian magic enough that Mavik could yank the metal cords, but they still wouldn't budge no matter how hard he pulled.
Sweat dotted Emerelda's brow. "If you going to be doin' something, then do it! I can't hold it!"
Mavik grunted. The dirt beneath his feet rumbled. The sound of claws digging drew closer. The Heart Stone thumped. Mavik sighed. “Here’s hoping I’m doing the right thing.” He pulled his hardest on the wires. They didn't budge.
Soul Hosts Page 27
