by JD Franx
“Kael? You need to calm down and breathe. Come on, take it easy. Please, Kael. Calm down... Before something bad happens. You’re starting to scare me,” she pleaded, softly, with her face close to his.
She gently laid her hand on his shoulder and touched his face with the other, using her thumb to stroke his cheek. Finally, Kael turned his eyes from Sythrnax to look at her as she slowly broke through the torrential fury. His dark eyes met hers as he stammered and became self aware.
“L… Lycori… I… Can’t…”
Lycori smiled, her breath coming faster. “Yes, Kael, you c…” A crack of potent energy sent her spinning into the trees lining the side of the pass.
Still not completely back to his senses, Kael heard Sythrnax yell. “Enough! Show me some of that magic, DeathWizard, or the girl dies, now.” After his last word, Kael heard him whisper something in a strange language. A bright, white light cut across the distance between them, speeding right through his shoulder. Staring down in horror, Kael saw the pink bone of his shoulder joint for only a second before blood began pouring from the wound; the magical energy had flayed his shoulder wide open. A massive resurgence of anger scattered what remained of his self-control, so much so that he never even felt the serious wound. Knowing his magic would only fail him, Kael pulled both of his obsidian blades to defend himself. His left arm was slow to respond because of his damaged shoulder, but the dagger eventually came free from its sheathe on the third try.
His new enemy only chuckled. “No magic, newborn? Pity, really. Very well. Watch and learn, child. We mastered magic long before your kind mastered walking on two legs,” he sneered.
Clearly done with talking, Kael watched as his enemy summoned a six foot long weapon from mid-air. Long serrated spikes sprung from the end sections of the magical staff with a snap of blue mist. A fearsome looking weapon, the spikes fit seamlessly into the silver-engraved shaft. Vapour trails of extremely cold air rose lazily from the end-blades, crackling with potency in the humid morning air.
Wasting no time, Kael let his rage fuel his attack as he charged ahead. The two opponents came together in a furious clash of metal on magic and cold sparks exploded off Kael’s blades. Sythrnax easily blocked his first two strikes. The frigid air emanating off the staff chilled the obsidian blades in Kael’s hands the moment he made contact, and an aching cold began seeping into his hands after they disengaged. The strange creature never hesitated, pressing Kael with relentless attacks. The bone-chilling staff rushed in from the high right side, spun, and then followed with a sweep to the lower left. The staff whirled too fast for Kael to keep track of and another attack sliced towards him at waist height. Jumping back to avoid the attack was all he could do. The staff’s razor-tipped spikes whipped across Kael’s stomach, causing him to stumble.
He looked down to see his shirt slashed from edge to edge and a bloodless gash ran across his stomach from hip to hip. He felt no pain; the wound had been frozen shut. Struggling to utter a single word, Kael winced as an open palm rushed towards him. A single word from Sythrnax’s mouth manifested a blast of air, punching into Kael’s chest with the force of a sledgehammer. Reliably, his yellow shield flared to life as he spun backwards through the air, head over heels, coming to a stop with his face in the dirt.
In serious trouble, Kael dragged himself back to his feet. With his body layered in throbbing waves of pain and blood trickling from his thawing stomach, Kael smiled at Sythrnax, a show of bravado he didn’t feel. If nothing else he hoped to buy himself a few seconds to breathe while the creature tried to figure out why he was smiling.
It was a wasted effort. Lycori yelled at him from the side. “Kael, watch out!”
But he was already way too slow. She paid the price for warning him. With a wave of his hand and a single word, Sythrnax’s magic spawned a bright red symbol that burned into the ground under her feet. Again he barked out more strange words and a concussive blast rolled upwards from the scorched markings and over her body. Bars of magic forced Lycori down onto her knees in the dirt and immobilized her face down. The magical glyph pulsing under and over her body acted like some kind of twisted, mystical prison.
Kael saw nothing after the glyph locked down on her. Focusing all of his attention on trying to stay alive as he fought Sythrnax, he never realized that Sythrnax’s companion had crept up behind him. Intently trying to anticipate his opponent’s next strike, and then distracted by Lycori’s fate, he never felt the collar slip around his neck. It snapped shut with the force of a bear trap.
His mind and body never had a chance. Horrific, soul-deep agony pierced his neck and sizzled outwards to the rest of his body on a wave of powerful magic that rode along the complex design of his central nervous system. He screamed through his seizure-clenched jaws as he lost complete control of his arms and legs and fell face-first into the dirt one more time, crushing his lips and nose. Aware of nothing other than the ruthless, unending pain that vibrated along every nerve in his body, Kael instinctively curled into a ball as his fingers scrabbled in the dirt and rock of the valley floor.
Sythrnax smirked and dusted himself off as the staff vanished and he walked towards Kael’s twitching body, his grin pulling at the corners of his silk mask. When he reached Kael, he stopped and extended his right hand. An oval black stone sewn within the palm of his glove pulsed, and Kael was pulled to his feet by the magic. Only when he was standing straight up with his toes trailing in the dirt did Sythrnax speak.
“I cannot believe the wizards here were stupid enough to send you away to another dimension. Even without magic you would have been a worthy adversary, had you been trained your whole life to fight and kill. I have never seen such fierce determination and utter refusal to surrender come from a member of any Lesser race during the last twenty thousand years.” Sythrnax cocked his head to the side for a moment as if recalling a far distant memory. “Actually, I have. Once. A young Elvehn commander from the Dyrranai Forest. The yellow-eyed lass was as stubborn and foolhardy as you are, definitely. Ah, well, it is their loss, I guess.” With his body racked by pain, Kael could barely understand what he said.
Sythrnax chuckled as he twisted his right hand to the left and again the stone throbbed, matched by a flash of light. “You’re too strong for your own good, newborn. Relax and stop fighting against the magic. It’s over. You lost. This will relieve some of the pain if you let it.” Again, the stone pulsed, but Kael grunted as the pain increased. “Don’t fight it, I said,” Sythrnax barked, cuffing Kael on the side of his head. “You’ll harm yourself further.”
Forcing himself to relax, the torment assaulting Kael’s body subsided enough for him to become aware of his surroundings, but little more. He gasped for a much needed breath of air. “Why don’t you hang around for an hour and you can tell those wizards just how stupid they are,” he said, forcing a smile as the pain continued to race through his body, but with less intensity.
“Not today, Kael. I’d love nothing more than to be done with that Cethosian ArchWizard, but we have what we came for. There are… more intelligent ways to deal with stupid wizards,” he said, chuckling.
Puzzled, Kael managed to cough, his breath coming in forceful gasps. “Why me? What the hell could you possibly want with me?”
Sythrnax laughed even harder and Kael thought he could see his eyes sparkle with amusement. “I’ll tell you, newborn, because you had the courage to fight a battle you knew you would lose. Because you never hesitated and because you refused to give up. Even now you try to fight against the magic that holds you. You deserve some modicum of respect. Most of the wizards here, in Talohna, I have come to realize know nothing about the origin of their power. They think they do, but in reality? No. They gave up and surrendered the moment they thought they would lose, even though they are several hundred years older and so much more experienced than you,” he gloated.
“What the hell does that mean?” Kael asked, grunting from pain.
“It has been a long time
since anyone has had the tenacity to face me with no magic and no chance to win. You are so unlike the other wizards we have taken. So you, Kael, I will educate. Properly. Magic flows through a bonded wizard’s body along the very nerves that send signals to your brain. It’s always there, at all times. The nerves that you use to access mystical power have four main routes to and from your brain. Think of them like magical power cores running from your brain down all four sides of your neck, two at the front and two at the back,” he explained, as he pointed to his own neck. “From there, they continue down through the rest of your body. They are what completes your connection to the earth. The physical part of your connection. I believe the wizards here call it a cruus. Do you follow?” he asked.
“I think so,” replied Kael. Fear and agony raced through him. All he wanted to do was give up, but he knew that if he kept Sythrnax talking long enough there was a chance Giddeon would arrive before they left. Compared to what he was going through, the ArchWizard would be a welcomed reprieve. Death would be as well.
“Good. Your nervous system allows you, or any wizard, to manipulate magical energies. That collar you are now wearing is called a Gyhhura Torque. It has four ancient, spell-engraved spikes that have been driven through the four nerve cores of your neck, interrupting the flow of your power. It’s also what’s sending those nasty nerve sparks through every inch of your body right now,” he laughed, but quickly recovered, clearing his throat. “Though you seem unable, or unwilling to tap your magic, it is still there. I can see it radiating off you in waves. When we get back to the ruins, your power will be drained away. It is as simple as that. You have something that I want. Every wizard and magic user in Talohna has something I want. That is all, Kael. I need your power, nothing more. Your lesson is over for today.” Sythrnax turned from Kael and yelled, “Grodin. Grab the girl. We need to go. We’ve acquired what we came for.”
With Sythrnax’s long speech finally over, Kael sighed as the pain pushed him towards the brink of blackness.
Grodin left his master’s side and hobbled over to where Lycori still knelt in the sand, unable to move.
“Good morning, darling,” he said, as he looked down on her and smiled. Before she could answer, he drove the black skull from his cane into her forehead. She slumped to the sand, unconscious as Sythrnax pulled the glyph from under her body by using a single word. Grodin picked her up over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing and sauntered back to Sythrnax as the pounding rhythm of horses reached the mouth of the pass.
“Master. The others are here,” he said, his tone a casual warning.
Sythrnax activated the gemstone in his palm one more time. The pulsating light reacted with the engravings on the spikes buried in Kael’s neck. The savage agony returned and as the blackness began to swallow him, he heard someone scream.
“Kael. Kael!”
Even though he knew it wasn’t possible, he was sure that the grief-laden shriek sounded like his wife, Ember. As he plunged head first into the abyss of unconsciousness, he realized the scream was actually his own.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I am one of the few who doesn’t keep a journal or a diary for the TimeKeepers. My thoughts and feelings are my own. Though most people do it willingly, happily even, it is not required by law. My very long life and the events that have unfolded during it are not the business of the any ruler, past or present.
Time distorts all events. I understand this better than most, and because of it so many people have no idea what threats this world will one day face. I was born to this world at a time when the Gods walked here among us. I have stared into the face of the Death-God as well as his brothers and sisters, and gave them my oath to protect their world any way that I could. But I have failed them and this world has failed them. Now the gods are silent, and they have been for so long. I want nothing more than to see a sign that they still care about us all. A sign that we will not have to face the coming darkness alone. One sign. Gods, grant me just one simple sign.
YRLISSA BLACKMIST, DATE AND LOCATION UNKNOWN.
As Ember, Max, and Yrlissa raced to where Giddeon had been yelling at empty space, Ember pulled back her hood in time to hear Giddeon yell, “You need to stop running, Kael.”
She screamed from the back of her horse. “Kael, wait. Kael!” But it was too late, he was gone. She stared at Giddeon with eyes that could melt ice. “Why didn’t you tell him we were here? He’s going to run now. What the hell is wrong with you?” she shrieked. Yrlissa quickly pushed past Kasik with her horse, coming to a stop beside Ember. It wasn’t the time or place for another disagreement, but neither cared.
“I didn’t have time to tell him you were with us, but he’s close...” Ember opened her mouth to object further, but Yrlissa was faster, interrupting Giddeon instead.
“What were you yelling at, Giddeon?” Yrlissa asked.
Saleece’s mount, picking up on her nervousness, pawed the ground and chomped at its bit, anxious to be moving again. Jostled in her saddle, she tried to answer for her father. “It... It was some kind of scrying spell. If I didn’t know better, I’d say a dark eye.” Patting her horse’s neck, she whispered in its ear, trying to calm it.
Puzzled, Yrlissa frowned. “The dark eye is demonic magic. There’s no possible way Kael could cast such a spell.” Saleece shrugged as her mount steadied, but was unable to offer more information.
“It doesn’t matter. We need to go. Now,” Giddeon said. With a nod and a scoff, Yrlissa and Ember gave up the argument, at least for now.
Riding through the last remaining hour of darkness, dawn rose before they came across the scene of the villager’s rescue. Giddeon, Kasik and Saleece slid from their mounts to look around. Ember stayed with Yrlissa, and when Giddeon was out of earshot, she asked, “What do you think happened here?”
Yrlissa whistled as she surveyed the carnage. “The villagers underplayed what happened. I can see five men who died from a combination of bites to the neck and serious dagger wounds. Look, Nahlla. Every dagger wound is to a major organ. Heart, kidneys, and the ones to the lungs were slid between gaps in the armour.”
“All of the wounds are torn at the edges, as well,” Max offered. He rode past the women and went to get a closer look at the bodies. Shouting back over his shoulder, he added, “Someone twisted that blade before withdrawing it.”
Yrlissa winced, as if from personal experience. “Max is right, an experienced vampyr did this. They seldom carry more than small blades. They don’t need to. The bites are clear as well, four holes from the canines on the top jaw and two on the bottom. The rest were killed with a sharp sword. Look at that body, Max. The sword pierced his chain-mail armour like it was soft leather. Kael had to be the swordsman, but why wouldn’t he use magic?” The rhetorical question went unanswered.
Max climbed off his horse and bent over, examining the body with the chain-mail armour. Turning the dead man over, he could see where the sword punched clean through armour, flesh, and bone. He whistled lightly. “What sword, Yrlissa?”
Kasik answered. “Forged obsidian. Fucking Orotaq and those cursed swords. Bastard things will even pierce plate armour.”
Max shook his head in disbelief. “A glass sword did this? You fucking kidding me?”
“No,” Yrlissa replied, as Kasik turned and walked away in search of other clues. “He’s serious. The Orotaq use the heat from vents caused by the Cataclysm along with some kind of magic to forge raw obsidian into these weapons, just like your bow. They never dull or break, and they cut through almost everything. It’s a very sore spot for the Northmen, as you can see.”
“Why?”
“The Northman forge Talohna’s best steel, Max. The runes embedded in their weapons give anyone who has one a distinct advantage. But it’s not magic. Mixing magic with steel is an unforgivable sin in Northman society.”
“Makes sense, I guess.” Max nodded and let the body fall back in its place.
Ember, trying her best not to gag o
n the cloying stench of the days-old battlefield, coughed in the hopes of suppressing her rebelling stomach. She prayed changing the topic would work better. “Ugh. I don’t know why Giddeon didn’t tell Kael I was with him when he was yelling at… whatever he was yelling at. It would have stopped him from running. Now we have to chase him down like a...” Gagging, she stopped short and covered her nose.
“Breathe through your mouth,” Yrlissa offered. “It will help. The bowl-shaped pass of the mountains here means little wind. The smell has no where to go. This battle was pretty mild by Talohna standards. We’ll see worse, eventually, just hopefully nothing like the Wildland Wars.” Taking her advice, Ember’s stomach finally settled a bit, so Yrlissa continued. “As for why he didn’t tell Kael, I don’t know. Giddeon is up to something. I told you from day one that you can’t trust him. All we can do is keep going, and when we find Kael, be careful and watch for Giddeon and the others to betray us.”
Max returned to his horse, his face covered by a makeshift mask to help filter the smell. “There are several graves over on the far side by the treeline. The townsfolk buried their own. I guess they figured the bandits could rot.” Though he’d seen plenty of death back home, especially while with his Ranger unit, it had been a long time since the displaced sheriff had seen something like what lay in the mountain bowl.
He glanced back the way they’d come, keeping an eye on their back trail.
“The itch still there?” Ember asked.
“Yeah.” He gently pulled at the reins. Turning his horse around, he caught sight of Giddeon’s wave. “Come on,” he muttered. “It looks like the mighty ArchAsshole is ready to go,” he said.
The group left the bowl and continued to race on, passing Kael and Lycori’s campsite from the night before. As the morning stretched on, they neared the mountain pass’s last blind corner, where Kael and Lycori had fought their desperate battle with Sythrnax only moments before. Giddeon and Ember’s group rushed out of the mouth of the pass just as Grodin picked up Lycori’s unconscious body and yelled his warning of their arrival.
