by Jesse Teller
They were no longer pale and sickly. Now they were thick in body and reddish in skin. Some were so filled with blood their flesh had taken on the color of a deep rich bruise. Every inch of the room below was splashed with blood. Aaron looked down on it in shock and fear.
He had to get out of here. He had to get free. As he watched the feast, Aaron feared he would never see his king or his brothers ever again. He curled his fingers, feeling a slight strength, and he sagged to the ground. Below him, hell played out. He stifled back his scream of terror, summoning to his mind the eyes of his king.
Humdor of the Peaks
Rayph cast his summoning spell and hoped it worked. He turned to his crew set around Trysliana’s cot, anger hot in his chest.
“I told you I was going in alone. Told you to stay away. Why was I deliberately disobeyed?”
Dreark was silent.
Smear rubbed a bit of cold blood from Trysliana’s forehead and said nothing.
“Nothing to say, Dreark? You’re not going to chide me this time? Not going to blame everything on me?”
“Rayph, don’t,” Dissonance said.
“No! I told you to stay away, told you I didn’t want a fight yet. I wanted to look at their hive so I could come back later, during the day, and catch them off guard. What part of my command was vague? What part of ‘I don’t want a fight yet’ did you get caught up on?
“Tristan knows I’m in town now. He will be moving his timeline up. Now they will be in a feeding frenzy. Dreark left his post, and it may have been filled by now. Toc-a-Roc will be in Hemlock any day, and Dreark has yet to nail things down. A night passed without the captain of the guard in the city to coordinate the town guard. I have no idea what we will be walking into. Oh, and Trysliana is dying. Drelis, tell me something good.”
“The coven has decided they will work together on this poison. This never happens. Poison is a solitary endeavor. Never has a coven worked on a poison together. Do not let the significance of that pass you by,” she said.
“How long until it is ready?” Rayph asked.
“You can’t rush poison, Rayph, especially a host poison. Be patient.”
Rayph growled but had no reply.
“We are not invincible,” Rayph said. “We have taken down dozens of the Stain’s powerful members in the past five years, but that does not change the fact that we are mortal. You all have to lock down your position and do as you are commanded, or I will send you all home and choose a new crew to work with.”
“I can’t allow that,” Dissonance said.
“Then follow my lead, and don’t make me have to do it.”
“You cannot dismiss me from duty, Rayph. Only Cor-lyn-ber can do that.”
“Then I will talk to him about this. Tell me I can’t. Tell me he won’t listen to me.”
Dissonance crossed her arms and said nothing.
“This will never happen again. I need to know you will do as I say. If it happens again, I will send you all home.”
“Why isn’t she waking up?” Smear asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t understand this magic Tristan wields. I need help. I’m not sure where I should go.”
“I think you know better than you are letting on,” Smear said.
Rayph felt sick to his stomach, felt as if he would vomit. “I can’t.”
“You have to, for me, for Trys. You have to do it, and do it now.”
“I will think about it.”
“There is no time for thinking, Rayph. This is the time for action.”
The sound of dogs lifted into the air, and Rayph nodded. “Alright, but first I need to talk to Humdor. That’s him now.”
Rayph stepped out into the blizzard. The dog sled stopped far enough away that Rayph could not see the sled or the rider, only the slight outline of dogs in the snow. From the wintry mess of snow and sleet stepped a massive man wearing white furs and black leathers. He stopped before Rayph and grinned out of his furry hood.
“Rayph Ivoryfist, as I stand here, what has brought you to my corner of hell?” the voice boomed. Rayph smiled and hugged the great man.
“Sickness and death.”
Humdor pulled back suddenly with alarm.
“It’s not contagious, just messy. I need shelter and food. I need to place one of mine under your care and protection. I need to know she is safe.”
“You brought me a woman. Is she pretty?” Humdor said with a mighty laugh.
“She’s gorgeous and married and dying.”
“Married to whom?”
“Smear Kond.”
Humdor showed a slight ripple of fear across his face, and Rayph shook his head. “He has no quarrel with you and will be grateful if you will help us out.”
“Your request will be my joy. Bring her out here. Let’s get her to a proper shelter.”
Rayph tied Trysliana to the sled and, in moments, she was carried off by Humdor and his dogs. He watched them ride away, sick with worry.
“Who is this guy you have given her to?” Smear said.
“He is a grewla, a dear friend of mine, and—”
“A grewla! You sent my wife away with a filthy grewla?”
“Not filthy, no. A dear friend of mine, a man I trust with my life.”
Smear shook his head. “Where is he? I am going to follow him.”
“You are not. Your blood is too hot. You will not insult my friend. He is going to keep her safe and hidden. No one will know where she is, not even me.”
“What do you mean, not even you?” Smear said.
“I have never been to Humdor’s tower. I know not where it is.”
“You just sent my wife away, and you don’t even know where?” Smear’s hand came to rest on his fist blade. Rayph dismissed the motion.
“She will be safe. I swear on my life,” Rayph said.
“Would you swear on Archialore’s?”
“In a moment, yes.”
Smear seemed satisfied with that, and he turned back to the tent.
“I need you to go back to Hemlock,” Rayph said. “Support Dreark and hunt vampires.”
Smear nodded slowly. He seemed small and helpless. Rayph decided that must be the way he felt.
“I will go to the place that will give me answers,” Rayph said, feeling dread in his heart.
“Thank you,” Smear said.
Rayph opened a portal, and Drelis, Dissonance, Dreark, and Smear went back to the city. Rayph sighed as he screwed up his courage. He cast a new portal, a glorious vista shimmering beyond. Rayph gripped his dagger and went home.
The Crystal Citadel
Rayph stood on the balcony of his home and stared out at the city beyond. He looked down at the pale orange tiles he had laid with his own hands almost 12,000 years ago and felt he would break out in tears. He had not thought about these tiles in over 10,000 years. He turned to the closed double doors and dark purple drapes blocking the view of his main sitting room.
“I have no time for sightseeing. I need to get answers.” He turned his gaze back to the city and the two massive structures that dominated it. The castle of the Ebuan king was an immense building that housed tens of thousands of trimerian warriors. The two kings and the queen resided there, running every aspect of trimerian life from their gem-encrusted thrones.
The walls sloped out as they climbed. In the 160,000 years since its construction, no army had ever made it as far as that wall. No army had ever occupied this city, though, during the God War, many foul armies had attempted it. The breathtaking architecture gleamed in the coming sun, Rayph’s tears finally rolling as he turned from the sight and focused on the second major building in the city, the beautiful and deadly Crystal Citadel.
The rising light gleamed at the highest turrets of the massive castle. Its crystal surface rioted between purples and reds as the light quality shifted and moved. The remainder of the castle, still left in the gloom, seemed crafted from steel, though Rayph knew better. He clenched his jaw as the sun took o
ver the structure. In all his travels and places he had been, castles he had seen and wars and births he had witnessed, he had never seen a more beautiful building than this, the seat of power for the Trimerian Knights.
Rayph fought a war of emotional control as he rolled from pride and love to bitter hatred and shame. He finally realized he had no time. He pushed his emotions away to deal with them later. Rayph kicked off the balcony with a spoken word and flew from his family’s long-time estate to the border of the citadel’s grounds.
As he flew, he could smell the triception grasses that grew in all corners of the city, grasses that grew only in this country, forsaking the soil of all other lands. The silver grass gleamed in the rising light. Rayph longed to lie down in it and feel its soft embrace. Never fading, never dying, this grass provided spiritual rest and inner peace to all trimerians who slept in it. Rayph let the sweet smell run through him, and he realized how weary he had become.
He reached the border of the citadel and dropped to the ground. He stopped at the wall, no more than a four-foot tall structure, enchanted with a terrible power to repel forces of mundane armies and magical attacks. He looked over the gardens, at the vast statuary filled with images of knights who had risen to glory or fallen in battle. Rayph touched the wall, feeling it thrum with life as the guards melded their minds with his.
He felt more than heard the words they spoke, and he settled into the calming minds of the guards, having forgotten until now how soothing a mind meld could be.
“Rayph Ivoryfist, what has brought you to the citadel you have forsaken for so long? Have you come home to complete your training? Or to mock those who taught you your power?”
“I have never mocked the Trimerian Knights to this day, nor will I ever. I have come in great need. Someone dear to me has fallen ill, and I know not how to save her. Is this still the capital of righteousness and healing it once was, or have drastic changes caused this place to fall from that grace so loved by the world?”
“This is a place for trimerians to come for aid of all sorts. But you turned on your people many years ago. What makes you trimerian now? Your eye, your longevity? I can see you have closed your eye in shame. How am I supposed to allow you in if you will not embrace the sight of your people?”
Rayph’s skin went flush as he remembered his eye. For so long he had kept it closed, so as not to annoy the humans he lived with, that he had forgotten among his own kind he was expected to see as they did. Rayph opened his third eye and gasped at the remembered beauty of the citadel’s garden.
The statues all opened their eyes. They watched him as slight gusts of wind, now visible, colored the land with blue and green currents of air. The whole of the city was wrapped in gauzy currents of warm and cool air. Rayph looked upon it now with wide-eyed wonder, having never realized how beautiful his home was until then.
“I hold no shame for my people. I hold no shame in my eye. I see now the devastating beauty I have been deprived of for so long, and I find myself nearly in tears at its majesty.”
“I will tell the council members present that you have come to us. They do not speak of you highly. If they choose to send you away, will you go quietly?”
“I desire no quarrel with my people. If asked to leave, I will do so immediately.”
The mind meld ended abruptly, and Rayph steadied himself on the wall in its wake. The statues stared in silence at him. He found he could not meet their gaze for long.
He turned to the streets beyond. Slowly, people walked around him, going about their daily routines. They saw Rayph and nodded at him with no judgment, and he wondered what they must think of the wizard wearing human garb who stood this close to the citadel. He longed for a proper trimerian robe, but he had no way of getting one, save casting his old clothing spell. But the robe it would bring would be his training robe, and he knew that unacceptable.
“Old friend, how content it makes me to see you again.”
Rayph turned and dropped to a knee before the master of the Crystal Citadel, Glimmer, one of the three trimerians who started the order of the Trimerian Knights during the great God War. Glimmer laid a warm hand on Rayph’s head and patted it gently.
“Rise, mighty Rayph. I need to look into your eyes and see for myself you are actually here.”
Rayph let himself be seen, and Glimmer’s shining face peered into his. Glimmer’s age was evident by the slight glow that emanated from his skin, and Rayph wondered what it must be like to have such a long past. Glimmer looked tired. Rayph waited for the mighty trimerian to take him in. Glimmer smiled and shook his head. His smile changed to a look of worry, and he lowered his gaze.
“You have not come home to continue your training, have you?”
“I have not. I’m sorry.”
Glimmer nodded and put an arm around Rayph. Rayph stepped through the wall and into the statuary.
“I am tired, Rayph. I need to retire and walk away from service,” Glimmer said.
“Please choose another as your replacement. I have failed you. You wait needlessly for me to relieve you.”
“I felt you when you were born, Rayph. I felt the life force of the one who would take my post. I did not choose you. Vanyel did. It is not my place to go against the will of our god,” Glimmer said. “You will wait, and I will stand my post until you are ready to take over. Until then, I will hold my place and wait for the day I can rest.”
Rayph gritted his teeth. “You sent me to him. The elondri were being butchered by their own kind. You found out a force they worshipped was inspiring the slaughter, and you sent me, as part of my training, to stop that force.”
“I know what I did,” Glimmer said.
“I found this dagger as the culprit,” Rayph said motioning to Fannalis, “I entered it and fought the one inside. For two years, I fought him. All but you had given up on my return.”
“I knew you to be alive and in battle.”
“When the battle ended and the fires died down, I found a scared, raging soul seeking release. We spoke and became friends, and I could not leave him to his fate. I can’t apologize for it. There is no mercy in letting him suffer.”
“Our order has always been led by mercy, Rayph. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“There are many others who do not agree.”
“Yes, and they never will. And when you finish your training, you will have to deal with their ire. But for now, you have other pressing matters at hand,” Glimmer said. “Who is Trysliana? And how is she dying?”
“She is a dear friend and companion. She aids me in fighting the Stain, the group I wrote to you about. She has been attacked by a man named Tristan the Sour.”
Glimmer frowned and said nothing. If he knew of the man, Rayph was not sure.
“He wields a kind of magic I have never heard of before. His blood, hand, and body are deadly to touch. He has caused a fever in my friend, somehow caused her to sweat her blood out. She is near death. I have cooled the fever, but she is still unconscious. I know not how he did this, but the effect is devastating.”
Glimmer nodded. “You need a way to fight this magic and to heal your friend. Long ago, you were the most potent healer we knew of. Can you not ask Vanyel for his help and heal her yourself?”
“I have not healed since I left here.”
“Oh, you blame Vanyel for your self-imposed exile? I hope you soon find no logic in this and turn back to your god.”
Bitterness stabbed Rayph’s heart. He nodded grimly.
“To heal her without the help of a god would require understanding the magic,” Glimmer said. “To battle it, you must know its weaknesses. I have heard whispering of such magic, but it is a fading craft held by another race. I can tell you now it is not going to be easy to find a practitioner. Come with me, Rayph Tellamore. I will aid you in your search.”
Rayph started at the sound of his given name, realizing he had not heard it in almost 10,000 years.
They had, in their time of walking,
made their way to a great set of doors. Glimmer opened them, and they stepped into the citadel.
Glimmer spoke a word, and they lifted into the air. They became incorporeal, floating through walls and people as they made their way to Glimmer’s personal chamber and office. They reached the door guarded by a set of squires. Glimmer nodded to both of them as he entered his office.
The room gleamed with the light of the sun as it came through the windows. Color raged here, and their footsteps echoed with a slight ringing quality. Glimmer reached a shelf of books, touching one lightly with his finger.
The book exploded from its binding. All its pages levitated into the air. Glimmer and Rayph stood, reading and walking a circuit around the room as they searched for any clue as to the mention of Tristan’s power. “This is the Encyclopedia of Magic and Its Origins,” Rayph said. As he read, he remembered when he was a student and had studied this book. He reached into his memory, finding a mention of blood power. He ran to the pages he remembered and read words he had seen before.
“How could I forget this?” he said. “A discipline of magic was formed many thousands of years ago by a culture housed in the tundras of Cesper. It began as a way of finding noble blood within the citizens. This noble blood drew forward the great leaders of the race known to our continent as the progetten.”
“You have found your practitioners,” Glimmer said.
“There is more,” Rayph said. “The magic known by these shamanistic people as Blood Magic was studied further and found to have many deadly applications. I must travel to Cesper,” Rayph said.
“Well now, wait a moment. Two thousand years ago, a group of refugees from Cesper landed on the shores of Perilisc and traveled south. They fought for every step of ground they took, but their leader and his captains were mighty, and they would not be resisted. When they found the mountain range of what is now the nation of Neather, they settled and could not be ousted. They have lived there ever since. I was asked to help repel them by the king of Neather, but his methods of torture did not leave him as a possible ally. When the peace was finally hammered out, I traveled to their lands and made acquaintance with them. There was a shaman, the only one of his kind who lived there. He became a good friend of mine over the years, and I grew to trust him. His name was Kaylik Firewalker. Find his ilk, and you will be on your first steps to finding this magic.”
