by Beam, Brian
“As late as it is, I don’t think I can even blighting sleep,” Briscott groaned, scratching at his scruffy beard.
As tired as I was, I had no plans on going to sleep before Briscott. He needed me. I reached down to my coin purse and pulled out a deck of cards I’d purchased at Raftin’s general store. “How about some Dragon’s Hand?” I conveniently left the fact that I’d perfected the game during my Activated Contract with Galius unspoken.
By the time we played our last hand, Briscott owed me several rounds of drinks on top of what he already owed me from the night we’d fought the eldrhims. Briscott took the loss well and assured me that as soon as he lost his craving for ellifil, he’d find us a good tavern and settle his debt until they kicked us out. He even let out some of that rich laughter I’d only heard from him when he’s been under the influence of ellifil.
****
Two nights after leaving Raftin, we set up camp while the sky was still aglow with the colors of sunset. We settled in a small valley, sheltered us from the strong winds that were so prominent throughout Naolim. Briscott once again set out without a word, heading back to a small wood we’d passed through shortly before, bow in hand.
Instead of returning in the dead of night to take his turn at watch, Briscott appeared not an hour later with a rabbit in his hand and a large smile plastered across his face. His pale green eyes twinkled in the light of our fire.
“I was thinking we could make some of that spicy vegetable stew Max won’t blighting shut up about,” Briscott announced with a mirthful glow. “Figured it would be better with rabbit.”
“That is exactly what I have been trying to tell this lunkhead for years,” Max responded with a perfunctory glance cast my way. I was probably the only one who caught the twitch at the corner of Max’s mouth. It seemed we had the old Briscott back.
After a pleasant meal, the stew warming our bones, Briscott offered to take first watch. While Ithan and Max settled in, I walked over to join Briscott at the edge of the fire’s light. He stood with his Loranis-sigiled fortune block in his hand, tracing its edges with his fingers.
Reaching up to my own fortune block, I thought about how Til’ was faring on his own quest. My mind swam with concerns for my Kolarin friend. Had he made it to the Snowy Waste? Was he okay? Would he find us?
Briscott looked up as I approached, smiling warmly. “You should get some rest, Korin. Otherwise, you can just blighting cover both of our watches.” I joined him in light laughter, but it was short lived. He knew why I’d come to him.
“I’m not on the blighted stuff,” Briscott assured me calmly. He showed no hint of insult or irritation from my silent insinuation. “Loranis sent me a message last night, and it helped open my eyes.” Briscott wrapped his hand tightly around his fortune block, closed his eyes, and smiled.
“They were there, Korin, in my dreams. Loranis sent them to me—Livia, Elsie, little Lendron. They were as beautiful as I remember. They reminded me that life is a gift from Loranis, a wondrous gift that shouldn’t be hidden under a blanket of sorrow or clouded with ellifil.” A single tear escaped one of Briscott’s tilted eyes and slid down into his shabby beard.
Briscott’s watery eyes turned to me with resolve. “There’s a reason I lived, Korin. Loranis has a plan for me, and I intend to see that plan through. Then, once my time comes, Loranis will reunite me with my family. I will be able to hold them once again, to tell them each and every day how much I love them.” Tears streamed down Briscott’s face, and to be quite honest, I had to fight to keep the same from happening to me.
“Seeing them again, being shown that they are waiting for me, is just what I needed to finally get over myself. I’ve been selfish.” Briscott took another deep breath, wiping his eyes dry with his sleeve.
For once, no cynicism towards religion or gods entered my thoughts. I simply decided that if anything—real or not—could have such a positive effect on someone, who was I to ridicule it?
I turned, throwing both my arms around him. “It’s blighting good to have you back,” I said, clapping one hand against his back.
“Seems I’ve been rubbing off on you,” Briscott replied.
I leaned back from our embrace and gave him a broad grin. “Blighting right, you have,” I answered, sending us both into laughter.
We talked for a bit longer, but I eventually made my way to my bedroll. Fortunately, sleep came quickly. The next night, the war would become all too real.
Chapter 38
A Sunset of Fire and Blood
If not for the reddened clouds behind us, I would’ve sworn that the sun had decided to set in the east the next evening. Regrettably, the orange glow ahead of us came from the walled city of Kethear, burning and engulfed in war.
Kethear was a border city just inside the kingdom of Naolim. According to Ithan, Kethear served as a trading hub between Naolim and Josuan, the synergistic commerce between the two kingdoms making Kethear a bustling center of trade. And now it was being razed before us.
The city, hazy through smoke and flame, was testament that the war had escaped Gualain’s borders. My stomach twisted at the thought that my father could possibly be behind it all.
From our vantage atop a distant escarpment, we were able to observe Kethear from beyond the rolling, snow-covered hills surrounding it. Swarms of soldiers appeared as nothing more than black dots, their presence illuminated by the last vestiges of daylight and the ethereal glow of vicious flames. Plumes of black smoke reached into the sky, casting a pall over the burning city. The acrimonious yet muted noises of battle drifted as a whisper on the breeze—fighting, death, and destruction melding into a sickening blend of sound. Winter winds carried the acrid stench of smoke tinged with the metallic scent of blood across the hills. Black flakes of ash fell from the sky like some sort of black winter.
Shutting my eyes against the disturbing scene, my mind was assaulted by images of the distant battle. I visualized the undead tearing through the city, fighting without abandon, undiscriminating between those actively fighting back and those just trying to escape. I saw the fear in the eyes of the living enslaved as their bodies fought against their will. My mind constructed a scene of dead, broken, and bleeding bodies. The scar on my chest burst into pain as the appalling possibilities filled my head.
Anger began as a spark in my heart that burst into flame as it traveled through my veins, pumping through my entire body until my mind was consumed by it. I didn’t care who was responsible for the war anymore, not even if it were my father. I just wanted them to pay for the death and destruction that plagued my sight.
Somewhere in the far reaches of my consciousness, I recognized that I was about to once again lose control of my anger as I had before with Max and Briscott. I latched on to that small glimmer of recognition and held tight, struggling to coax it to the surface. With a force of effort, I was successful, my anger reduced to a manageable simmer.
Briscott, mounted upon his mare, ran a hand through his hair and then held it before his face. It was smeared with black ash. “And we think we can blighting march right into Gualain and make a difference,” he muttered with a rueful shake of his head. Even his recent return to his good-natured self couldn’t keep the scene before us from dragging him into a state of despair.
“We’re just so impotent up here,” I responded. “I feel we should be doing something.” There was an unintended edge to my voice. My unnatural anger still clawed beneath the surface of my emotions, and I struggled to keep it at bay.
We'd already agreed that we couldn’t allow ourselves to get swept into Kethear’s fighting. Our focus needed to remain on first locating Sal’ and then finding the culprit behind the green rocks. Theoretically, if the rocks were Linked, the destruction of either the Link’s Source or the one who created it would sever the rocks’ power to enslave. After losing the strength of the enslaved, hopefully the remaining Gualainian forces would become a more easily subdued threat. Therefore, disrupting that Link wa
s our primary goal, one that wouldn’t be possible if we were killed before we even made it to Gualain.
We undertood that our small group had little chance of pulling off such a coup. We had two wizards—hopefully soon to be three, plus a contingent of the Wizard Guard—and two capable fighters. Our target had a massive army of wizards, soldiers, and undead. We were more than a little outmatched.
Then again, maybe we’d simply get lucky and Gualain would be defeated without our help. Maybe Raijom would turn out to be behind everything and be killed in the fighting, severing the Link between the rocks and effectively ending my quest at the same time. Maybe Max would then find a way to return to Paigea, where I would reunite with my birth parents and find that my father had nothing to do with the war. Maybe I’d be able to live out the rest of my days in peace and happiness. Maybe Sal’ would join me.
And maybe I’d learn to fly.
“Don’t get me wrong, Korin,” Briscott spoke solemnly, ripping my attention from the swirling mess of thought in my head, “I’m still going to take down as many of the blighted bastards as I can before they do the same to me. And I’ll be fighting to the death; no one is going to put a blighted rock in my chest again.”
“Same here,” I avowed, letting silence blanket the escarpment once more.
I’d come to accept that my only two options were death or victory. Strangely, that prospect didn’t scare me. Accepting the likelihood of my death was liberating in a way that I can’t really explain, a way that set my heart to beating more strongly and helped to clear my mind. My only real fears stemmed from the possibility of my father’s involvement in the war, and the safety of my friends.
Max suddenly climbed up Telis’s saddle and into my lap, breaking the quiet that had fallen over us. “It does not look good,” he announced. He’d been out monitoring the fighting with telescopic magic ever since we’d first come upon the city. “Gualain’s forces are too strong. There is a large presence of the Wizard Guard joined in the battle, but they are falling quickly.”
Ithan sucked in a deep breath. His hands trembled on Windmane’s reins in my periphery. When I glanced his way, his entire body was rigid, his jaw clenched tightly. His eyes reflected a mixture of anger and grief. He remained silent, though, as he had since coming within sight of Kethear.
“There are too many bearing the green rocks to count—undead, wizards, and Gualainian soldiers. They seem to be slaughtering anyone they find, whether enemy soldiers or innocent residents attempting to flee. And . . .” Max’s raspy voice trailed off.
“What is it, Max?” I prompted, curious what could possibly still Max’s tongue when he’d just announced that Gualain’s forces were basically slaughtering the entire city of Kethear.
Max stared at me silently for a moment, the distant fires reflecting in his beady eyes. “Korin, there are men down there wearing the armor of Paigean troops. I saw no less than three Paigean kingdoms represented. They are heavily armored, so I cannot be sure if they are being controlled with the rocks or not.”
The world dissolved, leaving only Max, me, and my paralyzed heart. Realization rolled through my mind, more frigid than the early winter air. “That’s how Gualain’s army grew so quickly. Raijom has been sending Paigean troops to Amirand to fight alongside Gualain’s army. But why? How would that benefit him?”
“I do not know, but I reached that same conclusion,” Max answered quietly. “Korin, this concerns me greatly. This many troops could not have been pulled from Paigea without notice. They could not have come here without your father’s knowledge.”
“Max, what are you saying?”
“I fear that you may have been correct about Raijom corrupting your father, that he is somehow using or deceiving him,” Max admitted, though he seemed reluctant to do so. I thought I’d already accepted as much, but my insides roiled as my brain tried to process his words.
“I don’t understand,” Briscott pronounced, arching an eyebrow in bewilderment. Ithan, though still despondent, wore a blank expression. Max and I hadn’t told them of Paigea.
Max met my eyes and lifted his fuzzy brow in question. Still at a loss for words, I just nodded absently. Max proceeded to give Briscott and Ithan a barebones explanation of Paigea’s existence. Very barebones. Between Max’s laconic response and the general absurdity of the notion, I expected a reaction of stark disbelief. Instead, Max’s words were met with shocked acceptance.
“Rizear’s blighted domain,” Briscott grunted under his breath, fingering his Loranis-sigiled fortune block through his shirt. “If Gualain has access to the armies of an entire land, what chance does the rest of Amirand stand?”
At Briscott’s words, Ithan kicked his heels into Windmane’s flank and silently retreated down the escarpment, his white-trimmed coat whipping in the wind behind him.
“What was that about?” Briscott asked, scratching at his beard.
Max exhaled sharply, a tiny puff of vapor misting from his mouth. “So now I have two lunkheads I have to spell everything out for. Look at what is happening in Kethear, a city outside of Gualain’s borders. Now, remember that Ithan’s family is from a city within the heart of Gualain . . .”
Max’s words slammed into me like a punch to the face. I think I’d have preferred the punch. If Ithan had retained any hope for his family’s safety, it had probably been shattered by our heedless conversation. “I’ll go talk to him,” I offered.
“I’ll come with you,” Briscott said. “Loranis forgive me; I should have watched my blighted tongue.”
“I am going to watch over Kethear a while longer to see if I can discover any information that may help us,” Max declared, jumping back to the snow-dusted ground.
Briscott and I set our horses to a trot to catch up to Ithan. He’d stopped a short distance away, his back turned to the burning city. I could hear his soft crying as we approached.
“Ithan,” I ventured, pulling Telis up beside Windmane. “Are you okay?”
Ithan whipped around so quickly that Fleet flew from his shoulder to keep from tumbling off of it. The featherswift owl was halted by the tether tied to her leg and let out a grating squawk.
Tears streamed from Ithan’s eyes, but there was no sadness in them—only anger. “Korin, Briscott, I am coming with you to kill whoever is responsible for this . . . this atrocious scarring of life,” he spat.
Despite experiencing Ithan’s recent growth in confidence and sociability, I couldn’t help but flinch at his malicious tone and intent. Ithan’s rage-filled eyes weren’t those of the naïve Wizard Academy Archivist I’d first met back in Auslin.
“Ithan, I understand how you feel, but don’t lose hope,” Briscott advised, his tone soft.
“Listen to him, Ithan. Your family may still be okay. You may be able to help them.” My words felt hollow in my ears. I hated that I didn’t believe them, hated that I believed Ithan’s family was probably dead or enslaved.
Ithan violently shook his head. “No, my place is with you. Whether my family is alive or not, the best way to help them is to end this war.” He wiped at his eyes with a gloved hand. “I have not lost hope. I have merely come to the realization that this is bigger than me . . . bigger than my family. My ablitites may be capable of helping to save thousands of lives.”
“If our journey takes us close to your hometown, maybe we could—”
“No,” Ithan interrupted. “Just as we have to ignore Kethear’s plight, we have to do the same for Bard’s Crossing.”
Briscott guffawed loudly, cutting into the sober pall looming over us. “Sounds like we’re all blighting mad. Maybe even mad enough to pull off a Loranis-blessed miracle and end this war.”
“More likely an Ehrgrith-blooded miracle,” Ithan spoke, letting out a humorless chuckle of his own. Ehrgrith’s the god of madness.
Briscott turned his tilted eyes to me. “I sure hope this Sal’ we’re after is as crazy as we are, or she may just leave us to our own devices.”
“You hav
e no idea,” I replied, smiling through the hurt brought on by hearing Sal’s name.
Max chose this moment to return, climbing onto my saddle and giving us all a mystified look. “Did I miss something?”
“No, we were just realizing that we’re all insane,” I answered. Perhaps we were; here we were laughing as war raged less than half a league from our position.
Max shook his head. “I cannot argue with that. So, if you three are through with acting like Averinax-blooded fools, we should get moving. I would prefer there to be a lot more space between us and this city before setting up camp.”
“Did you see anything that might help us?” I asked.
“Just one thing,” Max answered, letting us all stew in anticipation for a moment before continuing. “We really are all insane.” He was right.
We set out once again, putting Kethear behind us. With what Max had seen, it was likely only a matter of time before the city fell completely.
We were able to skirt the war that night and many nights to come. We did encounter further signs of the war—deserted homesteads, trampled fields, lifeless bodies. Our first night in Josuan, we entered a field littered with hundreds of abandoned, frozen corpses. Some displayed gaping holes caked with dried blood in their chests, marking where one of the rocks had once been. Seeing them sent pain flaring from my scar. From the way Briscott rubbed at his chest, he suffered the same problem.
The most disconcerting detail was that some of the corpses wore Paigean military uniforms. These showed no sign of having had rocks in their chests. It appeared they’d fought of their own free will, something that had both Max and me eaten with worry. At least their presence indicated that we were growing closer to a means of returning to Paigea. We just had to live to find it.
We also passed several more active battles in smaller towns and villages, but kept a wide enough berth to avoid notice as we made our way to Gualain. As hard as it was to accept, we had to keep moving forward. Though many answers rested with Gualain’s forces, entering the fighting was too much of a risk with their overwhelming numbers and power. Still, I struggled to refrain from jumping into the fray in order to wrench some answers from a Paigean soldier or two. Without Max there to talk me down, I may not have been able to keep myself from doing so.
