The king left her no choice. Elsargast blocked the way to her mother, which in Arria’s eyes, condemned her mother to death. Rage replaced her fear. She gripped her hand around the hilt of her weapon.
Before she realized what she did, she sprung at him with a complex maneuver of strikes. Each blow fell short as he lazily beat them down. Gold and purple sparkles fluttered around them like a chorus of butterflies. Arria continued her offensive pattern: low, high, low, high, high, and center. None came close to the king. She even tried the form Outreached Shadow, but he broke it like child’s play.
Desperate, she probed for the dark power inside. Fierce emotions like hate and love were the only way for her to bring it out. She had a problem controlling hate and love while reaching for the power. Her magic felt like a thin spider web, she had to grab at it with blinding fury without letting the web crumble. It took over a dozen times of the power collapsing like a weak web before she harnessed it.
Elsargast remained patient, idly blocking every complex maneuver she dared thrust his way. His pose stayed calm, at peace, and only frustrated Arria more. She released her inner power. It sputtered to life, surrounding her flamberge in purple lightning. Elsargast didn’t appear abashed, but rather, intrigued. Arria felt strength pulse through her that she’d never known. The magic would not come at her beck and call. Instead, it sporadically burst out in sputters from her weapon.
Scorches appeared all over Elsargast’s sword and armor where Arria’s landed a few strikes. When the power ran through her, it no longer felt as if she had hardened bones and limited joints. Instead, her arms maneuvered as easily as a vine. Her options were limitless. She caught a strange gleam in the king’s eyes. Fear? His eyes shrunk for only a moment before swiftly refocusing.
Elsargast took two steps backward, uttering a few words under his breath. A golden shine emerged on his weapon from hilt to tip which grew brighter with each passing second. The color shone so bright, making it almost impossible for Arria to focus.
She wavered when it counted most, tripping over her own foot, fear gripping her to see the king’s power. Before she could gather herself, she felt the frostbitten tip of Elsargast’s sword press against her neck. She sighed, dropped her weapon, and stared at him incredulously.
“You dare challenge the king of Sudegam? You have forgotten where you came from. It is over, Arria. You will find the inside of the cells uncomfortable, as it has been many a generation since their use. Rise.”
Arria growled as she stood, helpless in front of the king. There were stories of his power of course, but nothing could have prepared her for his skill. Her eyes searched desperately for anything she could use, but she found nothing of use around her.
She gulped as she locked her fingers together behind her head. Elsargast remained confident, his jaw stern, with pride overwhelming his appearance. He knew it would be no contest. Arria despised the king, she always had. He kept the kheshlars at bay, never letting them venture out into the large land of Calthoria. He claimed there would be little use for them anywhere but in Sudegam. Many wondered what lay outside of the kheshlarn territory.
“Arria?” a croaked voice whispered.
Arria’s cold eyes darted toward the voice. Her mother stumbled through the cabin, barely keeping her balance. She wavered toward the king where she stumbled. colliding with him. His face turned from confidence to fear, eyes stretching wide, as he leaped from the way when she touched him. He did not help her to her feet. Instead, he backed away with eyes bulging as if he feared for his health after her touch.
Arria wasted no time as she attacked the stricken king. She shoved the hilt of her sword into the jaw of his helm. He cried out, falling to the ground. She dared not try to kill him, for fear of being bested again. She had little time while he remained distracted.
“Mother,” Arria screamed.
Arria ran to grab her mother, sheathing her sword as she went before gently bringing the woman to her feet. Her eyes darted around the two of them, searching for any threat. When she found none, she exhaled deeply, relieved to finally feel safe. She lifted her mother over her shoulder, knowing there wasn’t time for a gentler approach, then dashed into the night.
Chapter Twenty-One
Starlyn stood outside the abandoned draeyk camp. Tears steamed along her face. Shronan stepped next to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. She brushed the water from her eyes, and clasped her hand over his.
“We will find her,” he said.
“I wish I could believe you, but we have been one step behind her this whole time. Everywhere we go we miss her by a breadth. She knows our moves.”
“She is smart, but she is not perfect, Starlyn. Nobody is. She will make a mistake.”
“When?” Starlyn asked.
“I don’t know,” admitted Shronan, “but when she does, we’ll be there.”
Starlyn nodded, brushing away the tears of her haunted past. The sun had fallen behind a purple haze in the sky. A full moon shone dully above her. She wondered if she would ever see her mother again. Her sister did a good job of disappearing into the night. She remembered the day she released the arrow that struck her sister in the back. Arria fell to the ground. Starlyn knew her aim had been true, but when she glanced back through tear infected eyes, the body vanished. Six months passed before she found a sign of her sister. She knew if there had been one thing Arria was good at, it would be disappearing. Even before the black magic claimed her soul, Arria normally disappeared for months at a time without notice. In that way, she was very like their mother. Starlyn felt she was the only one whom wanted the security of a home and family.
Anaela strolled over to Starlyn, putting her hand gently on her shoulder as Starlyn fingered the hammer Arria gave her so long ago. The hammer had been forged by Arria herself many decades prior, with love and compassion. It seemed the last warm memory Starlyn had of her sister. She gripped its handle tighter; it stretched long enough for two hands to secure, but the weapon was light enough to only need one steady hand. Swirls of silver and gold throughout the metal made it glitter in the starlight, though it appeared large, it felt comfortable and lightweight in one hand.
“We will find her,” Anaela said.
Even though Starlyn hadn’t known Anaela for long, she sensed a bond between them, a trust that ran much deeper than any of the other kheshlars traveling with her. Anaela may be void of the memories of her past as well as clueless about where she came from, but her compassion toward Starlyn and her desire to help, made her the closest person Starlyn ever had as a friend beside Aliqua. Even before the last few months where her mother had been sick, Starlyn never fit in with the high kheshlars of Sudegam. Her mother had been rebellious toward the kheshlarn king’s laws. She didn’t believe in isolating themselves from the humans of the land. Instead, she believed an alliance between kheshlars and humans could benefit the entire land of Calthoria, and kheshlars might reduce the wars the humans often waged against one another. Starlyn agreed with her mother, but kept her opinion silent. It did not matter though, the rest of the kheshlars despised her entire family for it.
The king had been against any human/kheshlar relations, treating any who thought as such as outcasts. He claimed the humans were too young a race to understand the proper definition of peace. He claimed blood-lust traveled through their veins, and no treaty would deny their savage nature. He believed the fights would never stop. Because of such arguments, Starlyn never felt she could fit in with any of the other kheshlars, whom already glowered at her skeptically. Arria believed the way their mother did, Arria had been a mirror image of their mother in beauty and spirit. Starlyn tried everything she could to please her mother, while she didn’t understand the passion her mother held for such politics, she didn’t agree with the king that interactions with humans should be forbidden.
Starlyn traveled swiftly with Anaela by her side, dashing through the forests of Calthoria, knowing she would be too far away to reach her mother in time. She k
new she would be too late to reach Sudegam, but Anaela stayed ahead with her, urging her on, as the others traveled behind. Anaela, a wood kheshlar, knew tracking better than anyone. Starlyn always thought herself a good tracker, only slightly behind her older sister Arria, but Anaela found things she couldn’t even comprehend. As a wood kheshlar, she had been one with nature.
Sometimes when Anaela knelt on the ground to rake through the leaves, she would whisper to the trees, asking for answers. Starlyn heard leaves rattle as if in response, but she could not hear words like Anaela. Anaela took them northwest, outside of the great forest of Calthoria and into the valleys toward the sea. Vil’ek had sent word to Sudegam. They responded with an army to help. Starlyn, Anaela, and Shronan led the way, followed by Vil’ek and company traveling close behind. Such a force of kheshlars had been unheard of since the war of dragons, it seemed clear Elsargast became afraid of the threat. Starlyn wondered if he had been afraid because of the dark magic Arria controlled, or because of the potential Arria opened to the kheshlars thinking of their free will. For so long, all of the kheshlars did exactly as they were told. They stayed away from the dark books of the library, and away from humans or any other species of the land. Kheshlars secluded themselves into ignorance. Arria wanted to shatter their beliefs into a field of questions. What limits can a kheshlar really have?
For years, Starlyn’s mother asked those same questions, but for the most part, the king kept the rest of the kheshlars isolated from her. Starlyn knew the king didn’t care about the health of her mother, in fact she would probably be a liability for him, a kheshlar of free thought who would not be missed. Those facts made Starlyn cautious of the kheshlars who followed her. She trusted Anaela and Shronan, but no one else. Vil’ek may be trustworthy because of his love for her sister, but his allegiance remained to the king. Whatever happened, she would have to rescue her mother alone, using her own abilities and faith to save her.
Anaela grabbed Starlyn’s arm. “We approach, allow me to travel ahead and scout the area.”
Starlyn nodded. “Return swiftly, my friend.”
Anaela nodded before she disappeared through the bushes. The surrounding area consisted of interlaced valleys and hills as if a giant hand raked claws across the land. Occasional clumps of bushes and ferns covered the hills. Starlyn waited for several minutes for Anaela to return, her brow creased with worry.
“What’s wrong?” Starlyn asked.
“There is a large legion of draeyks. Six-thousand creatures. Your sister and your mother are on an elevated stone resembling a sacrificial alter. There is a large steaming cauldron and three prisoners. One young boy who appears strange … I do not think he is a kheshlar. The other two are kheshlars … wood kheshlars. They are bound with rope and gags. I do not think we have time to save their lives.”
“Let’s go,” Starlyn called.
Before Starlyn took a step, thirty draeyks leaped through the bushes. She wondered how they crept past the sentries.
“Kill the draeyks!” Starlyn called.
Starlyn lifted her war hammer high, dropping the blunt end into the jaw of a creature, pulverizing the skull to mush. Another draeyk tackled her side, knocking her into a third creature. She no longer had the arm length necessary to maneuver her large hammer, but before she could panic, three lightning enchanted arrows embedded themselves into the two draeyks at her side, one arrow through the first draeyk’s neck, the other two rooted in the other’s chest. When she spun around, she gasped as Anaela secured three more arrows in her bow and released, each arrow to find a different target with incredible accuracy. Starlyn had never seen such precision with a bow.
After only a matter of minutes, their sizable force struck down the draeyks who attacked them. Anaela killed most of them with her enchanted arrows. Shronan Onderon deserved thanks for enchanting her obsidian arrows.
Starlyn stepped into the clearing to find her sister standing on a platform with a long obsidian dagger in her hand, smiling as her eyelashes lifted while watching Starlyn. Three bound prisoners knelt, gagged in front of Arria. Each gazed hopelessly to Starlyn, pleading with their tear-struck eyes. Starlyn took one step forward, but when she did, Arria’s grin cast the rest of her face in shadows as she placed the dagger against the young boy’s throat. He wasn’t kheshlarn, besides it was the wrong year for children, unless the wood kheshlars had different laws. However, his face didn’t have the perfect lines of a kheshlar. Starlyn could only assume he was human. His eyes bulged as the knife tore through his neck, even though he had been gagged, there hadn’t been enough time for him to cry out in pain. His body dropped to the ground. Arria raised the dagger to her mouth, closed her eyes, and licked the blood from it. In her other hand, she caught blood from the boy’s artery, dropping it into a deep black cauldron at her side.
Starlyn stepped forward, her body shook with tears threatening to form in her eyes. Arria strolled to the next prisoner, blade against his neck. Starlyn kept her disgust at bay, as well as the ever turning revulsion in her stomach. She had no idea her sister had gone so far. She gave up all hope she could bring Arria back. There was little left to do, except what needed to be done.
“Stop her,” Starlyn choked.
Anaela didn’t hesitate, loosing a single arrow toward Arria from five-hundred paces away. Her aim astonished Starlyn, and even Arria, as the arrow struck Arria’s dagger hand. The obsidian blade shattered as it fell from Arria’s grasp. Her piercing scream caused every one of the kheshlars and draeyks to cover their ears.
“Kill them,” Arria screamed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Arria found what she needed in the little white book of black magic she took from the kheshlarn library. Everything to do with resurrection and cleansing filled the few hundred pages. As far as books went, it had been relatively small. The volume had been forgotten about, even in the tight security of the forbidden library. Since kheshlars weren’t permitted to read through the restricted books, it went unnoticed by its title. Books entitled Death by Numbers, Destruction of Souls, and Firelight Madness were all under lock and key as they were presumed to be the worst. However, a small white book titled Life remained unnoticed, wedged between two volumes of war history involving black magic.
Inside were hundreds of ways to resurrect anything. Every spell seemed simple, hardly more than a few lines. However, the drawback to nearly each one would be whatever came back would be the shell of what it once had been, sometimes deforming it. They would be mindless, not able to think for themselves, but more than willing to take orders, which hadn’t been what Arria wanted.
Only one spell could bring her mother back to her true self but it hid in the middle of the book. There were three parts to the spell and each hid in a different location inside the volume. It took a while for Arria to understand the cipher. The spell was longer than any others inside the book, and much more difficult. It required the sacrifice of three pure souls. She couldn’t use the wood kheshlars she captured because she had seduced and molested them. At first, she misinterpreted the script, thinking the sacrifices needed corrupted souls. Since they were no longer needed, she had disposed of them after they had no more energy to please her.
She now had three pure souls. She went into the land of the wood kheshlars to temp them from hiding, but they were too smart to show. They didn’t credit her ability to track however. She had captured two of them before traveling far to find a third. The third had been a mere human, showing how far she traveled to save her mother. The boy would be young enough to still have a pure soul.
Slitting the young boy’s throat hadn’t been as difficult as she expected. Her mother had been the only thing who mattered, not a life of some pathetic human. His blood tasted sweet in her mouth, like honey, causing her to crave more.
Arria knew her sister would find her, but the timing could have been more perfect. She smiled at her sister as she licked the blood off the knife. Arria prided herself for her stealth, but knew Starlyn had been
as good at tracking.
Arria leaped to the next pure soul, preparing to slit his throat. Before she could press the dagger into the soft neck of the kheshlar, an arrow penetrated her right leather glove, causing her to drop her weapon. Since the dagger’s blade had been created of obsidian, it shattered when it hit the stone floor. The pain sent a shock through her entire body, causing tears to well up in her eyes. She couldn’t recall if she’d ever experienced as much pain, even in her own death.
“Kill them,” she screamed.
Blood darker than tar gushed out of her right hand. She tried pulling it free, but struggled with weakness as she realized how deep it penetrated. It hadn’t gone entirely through, but didn’t spare her more than a few millimeters. The pain hadn’t been isolated, but throbbed with intensity through her entire hand.
Arria finally got a good enough grip with her left hand to remove the shaft. The arrowhead itself disappeared. Understanding dawned on her as she inspected the shards of obsidian embedded inside her skin. She realized why the pain had been so intense. She knew as skilled of an archer as her sister had been, even she could not make such a shot.
She studied the force Starlyn brought thoroughly, noticing the wood kheshlar. There was a survivor, she had failed to kill all the ones from the celebration. Wood kheshlars had unbelievable sight, making them the greatest archers ever known. A man with long blond hair like a kheshlar appeared, but he didn’t wear kheshlarn armor and his skin showed pale white. He wore only deep green robes—robes which seemed to match the essence of magic he threw at her draeyks.
Little time existed to complete the ceremony. Arria knew it worthless to waste time contemplating. Without another though, she reached into her boot, retrieving a curved steel dagger. Her left hand hadn’t been as steady as her right, therefore, she slit the prisoner’s neck twice just to be sure. She dared not pause to taste blood. She only hoped she could finish in time as she collected his blood in her injured right hand to add to the pot.
The Chronicles of Starlyn (Calthoria Chronicles Book 1) Page 10
