by JD Franx
“Not until a body is discovered, your majesty,” the Priestess said frowning. “The law is clear. The Cethosian crown was granted by the gods on the agreement that a direct-blood descendant ensured the monarch's power. Until the princess' body is recovered, we Pillars will ensure you remain on the throne of Cethos. It is why the gods created our positions and why the initiation ceremony kills one in three prospects.”
Quiet and off to the side as if not really there, like the ranger he was, the final Pillar, the Hunter, nodded. “I have rangers stationed in every banner, your majesty,” he said, quietly. “Several carry the black mask.”
The Knight grunted, but said nothing.
“We're not assassinating nobles. They have a legitimate concern, even if their claim for me to step down isn't.”
“It may come to that, your majesty,” the Spy counselled. “You cannot surrender the throne with everything that is happening. A new monarch would be disastrous. If Giddeon is forced to enter the Wildlands looking for the princess, they will attack in force which means war. There is a DeathWizard on the loose somewhere which may eventually mean war, and if the creature named Sythrnax tells the truth there will be war with DormaSai, the last thing Cethos needs is a change in leadership. Assassination of upstart nobles may be our only option.”
King Bale sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Perhaps, Mistress Spy. But not yet. Right now all of you focus on your duties and on finding my daughter. I can't imagine what she must be going through.”
“My rangers, the Corsair's sailors, or the Spy's whispers will find her, Your Majesty, and all will risk their lives to see her home.”
“I know,” King Bale sighed, again. “It is why Cethos is the only country to still honour the Pillars of Rule. Take care, old friends.”
The six Pillars of Rule bowed and left the Hall of Nobles, each with the full intention of doing what they could to ensure their king's reign.
WILDLANDS EASTERN SHORE
Kael floated on the white clouds and smoky haze that accompanied all subconscious wanderings of the mind and yet for some reason, he knew he wasn't alone. A presence kept him company, a presence he knew well. Though the swirling miasma of white blurred her appearance, as she drifted closer, he knew the form of his wife, Ember, as if she were a disconnected piece of his own soul. Even if she'd been dead for many months. He looked around to see where his broken mind had brought him, but his eyes saw nothing but the shapeless white. As the shape of his wife drifted within a few feet, he held up his hand for her to stop. The image created by his mind of the only woman he had ever loved was exactly how he'd remembered her minutes before he saw her last.
“I know you're not real,” he said, sadness layered every word. “This is a dream, but just let me look at you before the nightmare begins again. You can't imagine how much I miss you,” he added, his voice heavy with regret and the guilt of her loss.
She smiled that perfect smile he remembered so well. “This is one dream I promise you will not turn into a nightmare. Please love, let me show you.” She stepped forward to take his hands, but he jumped back to avoid triggering the part of the dream where she died before his eyes, again, for the thousandth time. The look of hurt nearly broke what was left of his tortured soul.
“Please, Kael, listen to me. I don't have much time. You have to help us, you have to help me. Take my hand and I will show you. I control this dreamworld, not those who have hurt you for so long. Please,” she pleaded, reaching for him. Afraid of what had happened so many times before, he shook his head, taking another step back.
“You're not real. I watched you die inside the vortex, you and Max both. The king's man told me that he removed your bodies. I'm sorry, Ember. It was my fault, they wanted me, not you...” He coughed, as a tickle formed in his lungs.
“I know, babe,” she said. “I know all of it, but we're not dead. Max is right here with me and we're in trouble, right now. We need you. Take my hand, Kael, please. My strength is waning.” Desperate to believe what she said was true, Kael closed his eyes and took her hand.
With a rush of what he knew could only be magical power, Kael smiled as the fog of white turned to darkness and in only a few seconds, the dark faded, transforming into a tropical forest. Ember and Kael glided into a camp of savage human beings as if both had wings. She led him by the hand to a cage where a group of people who had been beaten badly, many with blood-weeping open wounds. Memories of himself and the others that had suffered for months at the hands of the Dead Sisters came rushing back to the forefront of his mind and the anger always just under the surface roared to life once more.
When he saw his wife, bruised and dirty, laying beside a young Elvehn woman, Kael glanced back at the Ember holding his hand, confused and unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
“I don't have time to explain, babe. What you see is very real, we are both alive. The ones that told you otherwise lied, look,” she said, pointing to Max. Kael stumbled from weakness, but as he looked at his closest friend, there was no doubt in his mind it was Max. A once seldom-seen frown, a couple weeks of beard growth and a set of nasty looking scars across his face were the only difference. Kael recognized the change in his friend all too well, it was what Talohna did to people after very little time had passed.
“What happened to his face, Ember?” he winced, as he got a good look at the fresh scars. Kael wheezed, coughing a second time in an attempt to push the irritation from his lungs.
“A Wraithlord. We were trying to find you. He saved us the day that happened, like he saved us back home the night you were shot. You remember?” He nodded. “We're alive, Kael, and you need to save us. Please,” she begged, yet again.
The tickle in his lungs grew stronger, turning to fire. He hacked, trying to expel the pain, but a racking cough took over.
“Where..” he croaked, “...Are you?” He coughed and spit on the ground, but nothing came from his lungs or mouth. The burning worsened as he gasped, his breath failing.
Almost unable to breathe, he heard Ember yell. “I wasn't fast enough, Kael. I'm sorry.” He continued to cough and sputter, struggling for air as Ember closed her eyes, concentrating on something only she could see. When they snapped back open, she screamed with panic.
“No! Kael, listen to me, please. We're in the Wildlands, help us. The Wildlands, Kael, we're in the Wildlands. Help us. Please!” Doubled over and fighting for breath, he glanced back up in time to see her fading from his sight.
Her voice reverberated inside his head as the fog of white returned, more like the beginning of the dream. “You have to wake up now. Wake up. Now, wake up, Kael!” She screamed a second time as an explosion of magic roared inside his head.
She was gone.
SEA OF STORMS
Kael jerked awake, inhaling a mouthful of salty water before he was fully conscious. Thrashing at the panicked sensation of inhaling water, a second wave slammed his face and body, lifting him further onto the beach before it was clear he wasn't actually drowning. The panic subsided. He was no longer out in the ocean, drifting and lost. Realizing he woke lying face down on a beach with his head towards the incoming tide, he would've drowned had the realistic dream not waken him. Dizzy and disoriented, he pulled himself from the surf and fell to the beach, gasping for breath, utterly exhausted.
The dream about Ember and Max was crystal clear in his mind, but the rest of what happened during the last couple days was a confusing mess of flashes and darkness. The dream felt so real, he wanted to believe it was. Had Ember not screamed at him to wake up and had the strange power inside his head not waken him, he would have drowned face down in the sand and surf. With little he could do about it, he focused on remembering how he ended up stranded on a sandy beach.
His last clear memory was in the captain's cabin of the ship they stole while escaping from the underground Dwarven prison of Arkum Zul. Like a click snapping in his brain, it all came rushing back. He threw up in the sand, the rush of memories swallowing his mi
nd in vertigo. Vomit splattered the wet beach a second time when he realized what he had done, the lives he ruthlessly took fighting to be free and the outright murder of Arabella Ondoloth. The dream of Ember tossed his stomach a third time as he remembered his worst crime. Like every other horrific memory he had since arriving in Talohna, the events of the past two days went all wrong after only hours of finally finding some peace
