by Matt Heppe
Evil radiated from the stone. It struck him in waves, but he couldn’t resist the compulsion that drew him forward. The dagger had risen and fallen over and over, drawing life and spirit from helpless victims.
A bone snapped under his foot. A skull rolled away as he stepped closer to the crystal.
Blood for blood.
Waves of hate struck Orlos as he stepped within reach of the crystal. A dagger lay next to the stump, clutched in bony hands. The very dagger that had destroyed the spiridus.
Orlos reached his hand out, not to the dagger, but to the crystal. Blood had drenched it once. The chamber had been awash in it. The blood of the spiridus had suffused the crystal, and it would be red with their blood forever.
He touched the stone and a thousand spirits cried out to him. Their agony crushed down upon him, and he fell to his knees. He fell against the stump of the crystal tree, his arms outstretched in an embrace.
Grief overwhelmed Orlos, and his chest heaved with sobs.
The spiridus weren’t dead. They were entombed—locked in a crystal prison to suffer for eternity.
Chapter Fifteen
“Should we close the trap door?” Ayja asked Cam.
“Do it,” he said, but his attention was on Yevin.
Yevin backed away from them, his javelin held in both hands. “You’ve been hiding for all these years, and I found you.”
“Congratulations,” Cam said. He stood tall, his axe seemingly held casually at his side. Ayja knew the truth though. Cam was ready for a fight. “Will you arrest us now?”
Ayja lowered the trap door and shot the heavy bolt. They wouldn’t be able to see what was going on downstairs now, but neither could anyone rush the stairs.
“You’re a danger to Salador. You’re the false elementar who threatens to bring chaos to the world.”
“She’s the elementar who just saved your life.”
Ayja stood next to Cam. He’d always be Cam to her, even though she’d known his true identity since she was twelve. The inquisitor’s eyes went back and forth from Ayja to Cam, and he shifted his grip on his javelin.
“You have to make a choice, inquisitor,” Cam said. “Ayja and I will fight beside you against these creatures, or we will fight you. If you are with us, you need to convince me of your good faith.’
“If we live, you’ll kill me afterwards,” Yevin said.
“I am Nidon, Champion of Salador. I swear to you that we shall do you no harm.”
“Cam, we need to see what they are doing outside,” Ayja said.
Cam kept his eyes on Yevin. “Swear that you’ll do the princess no harm, and we can get back to the work of saving all of our lives.”
Princess? She knew it to be true, but she couldn’t connect the idea to herself. Even the way Cam had said it. He’d said it like he meant it.
“I will do her no harm,” Yevin said.
“I’ll take your head off if you even look at her crosswise,” Cam said. “I’ve sworn myself to keeping Ayja alive. My job will be much easier if you are with me.”
“I’ve sworn it,” Yevin said.
Cam nodded. “Watch the stairs then, and let us know if you hear anything downstairs.”
“I will.”
With a jerk of his head Cam motioned Ayja into the front room. “Let’s see what they’re up to.”
She followed him, and he waved her to the window. Cam motioned her close. “You must escape if you can,” he whispered.
Ayja’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Now?”
“No, not now. But if it gets bad, use your powers to escape.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“You must. I didn’t spend fifteen years here with you to see you die for me. You must live. Promise me.”
“Never,” she said. She turned from him and cracked the shutter open. Nothing moved in the yard.
“You mother was stubborn too,” Cam said.
“There’s nothing out here,” Ayja said. “Let’s check the other windows.”
Yevin eyed them warily as they passed him to enter Cam’s room. Again they opened the shutter. Two of the ghuls knelt on the ground lapping blood from the necks of dead sheep.
Ayja closed the window. “What are they up to? Where are the rest of them?”
Cam shook his head as he looked out the back window. “Nothing here. One side left.” He took his lantern and led them down the hall to Ayja’s room. Nothing moved in the forest beyond.
“Do you hear anything downstairs, Yevin?” Cam asked.
“Nothing.”
“They could have given up,” Cam said, “but I doubt it.”
“Maybe they aren’t up for a real fight,” Yevin replied.
“Well, I don’t think they’ll storm the stairs again. They might try for the windows.” Cam glanced up. “Or the roof. Or they might try fire.”
“So what do we do?” Ayja asked.
“You have the best eyes. You keep watch out the windows. Don’t go in the same order each time. I’ll check on our supplies and prepare food. Yevin, you stay on the stairs.”
“How long do we keep it up?” Ayja asked.
“As long as it takes. When daylight comes we’ll rest in turns.”
There was a shout outside. “Front,” Ayja said.
They ran to the front room.
“Elementar,” a voice called. Ayja went to the window.
“Careful,” Cam said. “Just a crack.”
Ayja unbolted the window and opened it just enough to see through. “They’re on the front yard,” she said. “Dozens of them. Four in armor.”
“Elementar,” one shouted. “I call for a parley.”
Ayja had never seen this one… this man? This ghul? He wore a coat-of-plates covered in red leather with bronze rivets. His arms and legs were covered in plate armor, and he wore a fur-trimmed red cape over his shoulders. The man’s head was bare, but he held a visored great helm in the crook of his arm.
Long black hair framed his face. His face… his face was terrifying. Pale white, it gleamed with some internal light so that it glowed in the darkness. The skin itself was heavily wrinkled, as if the man were hundreds of years old. His eyes were dead black orbs.
Flanking him, but two steps behind, were four armored men, their faces pale and dead like his but not glowing. And behind them writhed a mass of half-naked ghuls. A hundred, or even more of the monsters moaned and gabbled, resisting the urge to launch themselves at the farmhouse.
Ayja told Cam what she saw. “Let’s speak with them,” he said. “Maybe we can learn something of our enemies.”
“Elementar—” a voice called from outside.
Ayja pulled the window open.
The leader bowed his head in greeting. “Lady, I am pleased that you have deigned to show yourself to me.”
“Who are you to come and attack us?” Cam asked.
“I am Sir Garion, lych of the Army of the True King.”
“Lych? What does that mean?”
“It means master.” He gestured to the armored men near him. “These are my captains, my pyren. And behind us are our ghuls, or servants.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Cam said. “Why are you here?”
“My pyren came gathering ghuls to serve in our army, but you fought like heroes. You are not worthy of becoming ghuls. You have a higher calling.”
“We won’t serve you,” Ayja said.
“Of course, elementar,” Garion said. “You will not serve. You will command. You have the blood of kings in your veins.”
“None of us wish to join you,” Ayja said. “Leave us in peace.”
Garion shook his head. “I’m sorry, but we can’t do that. You will join us, or you will perish. Come, there is room for you amongst my pyren. And you, elementar, could even be among the lyches themselves.”
“We would rather die than become such abominations,” Cam said.
“I offer eternal life, as well as power such as you have never imagined.�
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“It sounds like you offer the same gifts as Akinos.”
Garion laughed. “I do. I make the same offer Akinos made to me. You see, I am one of Akinos’s eternals. But some of us have severed ourselves from the Orb. And now we can grant the gifts the Orb used to grant.”
“You’ve lost your sheen,” Cam said.
“So we have. But in doing so, we’ve gained our freedom. I’m not here to speak with you, though. I’m here to speak with the elementar. Come, elementar, you never have to fear the queen or her inquisitors again. You will be one of the lords of the earth.”
“This is foul magic,” Yevin said behind them. “You cannot do what he asks.”
“Of course not,” Ayja said over her shoulder.
“What is your reply, elementar?”
“Give me until morning to think on your offer,” Ayja called out.
“No, there can be no delay. You must answer now.”
Ayja looked out over the mass of writhing ghuls. It was an impossible fight. And if the pyren and the lych were even stronger, it was hopeless indeed.
“We can’t win this,” Ayja said to Cam, her voice low.
He shook his head. “No we can’t. That’s why you must try to flee.”
“Never. We’ll fight our way out. Together.”
“Then we’ll die together.”
“So be it.” Ayja stared out at the masses in front of her. She felt no fear, only a low anger building deep within her. It surprised her, this calmness in the face of death. Cam had raised her a warrior. Was this his doing?
“Now, elementar,” Garion said.
Ayja drew herself up in front of the window. “My name is Ayja, Princess of Salador,” she called out. “My mother was Hadde of Landomere, Slayer of Akinos. My father was Morin, Prince of Salador. Depart this place, lych Garion, or I swear to you, you’ll die by my fire.”
Garion paused, staring up at her with his iron black eyes. “This is true? You’re the one they’re looking for?”
“I am,” Ayja said.
“Very well then,” Garion said. “I shall be chief among the lyches when you become one of my pyren. Surrender now, and your friends shall live.”
Ayja closed the shutters.
“You must escape, Ayja,” Cam said.
“And what will happen to us?” Yevin asked.
“I’m not leaving,” Ayja said. “I’ll stay and fight.”
“They aren’t stupid,” Cam said. “They broke in the windows downstairs, knowing we could not hold all of them. They’ll make ladders and come in every window. We’ll be overrun.”
“It will take time,” Ayja said. “Maybe help will come. Yevin’s inquisitor friends are nearby, aren’t they? And word was sent to Lord Vainor. Maybe they will come.”
“And be slaughtered,” Yevin said. “You saw how many of them are out there. We’re doomed.”
“So, what are you going to do? Surrender?” Ayja asked. “I’m going to fight.”
“And when it gets too dangerous, you’ll use your elementar powers and fly away.”
“If elementars could fly, how would you inquisitors ever catch any of them?”
Cam went to the window and cracked the shutter to peer out. “Enough talk. We have no choice but to fight.” He paused. “And… it looks like they’ve decided to burn us out.”
“What’s happening?” Ayja asked.
“They’re coming with torches.”
“The walls of the ground floor are stone,” Ayja said. “They’ll try to burn the floor beneath us.”
A chorus of wails struck the house. “They’re coming,” Cam said. “The pyren and a dozen ghuls with torches.”
“We’re doomed then,” Yevin said. “We can’t fight the fire.”
“Of course we can,” Ayja said. “Hold the trap door in case they try to come up.”
Crashes came from downstairs as pyren and ghuls broke into the house. They kept up their cries as they rampaged. Feet pounded up the stairs and the trap door shook.
“Fire,” Yevin said. “They’re burning the door.”
Ayja knelt by the door. Smoke wafted through the cracks. She let her sight go into the aether. There were three torches being held under the door. The dry wood had already caught fire.
Ayja flicked her fingers, strumming the chords of magic and let just a touch of her energy pass through her fingers. The fire and the three torches all went out. Cries of anger rose from just beneath them.
“What did you do?” Yevin asked.
“Some of the magic you think I should die for. The fire is out.”
Slowly, Ayja went from room to room, feeling through the aether for the heat of the fire beneath the floorboards. One by one, she snuffed out both fire and torches.
She couldn’t help but grin at the frustrated cries from below. It was such a simple thing for her. Reaching into the aether and creating fire was a challenge that burned her reserves of energy. But to extinguish a fire that already existed, especially a small one, was a simple thing. If she didn’t have to do her magic through the floor, she could have doused them all at once.
Something cracked against the trap door. “Axes!” Yevin called. “They’re cutting the door.”
“I’ll be right there,” Ayja said. She doused the last torch and walked down the hall. Yevin stood there, his javelin held ready.
Cam was in his bedroom looking out the window. “It will take them some time to cut through.”
Once again, Ayja knelt by the door. It shook on its hinges with every blow, but it was a heavy door, and whoever was swinging the axe would have a hard time of it.
“I was too quick in putting out this fire,” she said. “I could have used it.”
“What about all the torches?” Yevin asked. “I smell smoke.”
Ayja took a deep breath. “This will be a little harder.” She closed her eyes and imagined where the stairs were. It was time to put fire on their side. She sent her magic through the aether, hoping her aim was true.
There were shouts from below, and the axe blows stopped. Ayja kept up her concentration, feeling the flames as they grew on the wooden steps. She’d have to tame them at some point, but for now they did their work.
“There’s fire again,” Yevin said.
“I know. I’m burning the stairs below us to drive them off.”
“What will stop the fire from spreading up here?”
“Enough! I know what I’m doing. I’ll put it out before it becomes a danger.”
“But how?”
Ayja glared at him. “You’re an inquisitor. You live to find and kill elementars, but you know nothing of us or of our magic.” She shook her head. “No more questions. I’m doing my best to save all of us. Even you.”
“Some of them are retreating from the house,” Cam said. “I don’t know if it’s all of them.”
“I’m going to tend my fire. One of you should rest and maybe eat,” Ayja said.
“Go ahead, Yevin,” Cam said. “I’ll keep watch.”
The inquisitor got food for all three of them and brought it to them. It wasn’t much, just dried sausage and water. Ayja bit into the sausage and was surprised at how hungry she was.
“They’re out in the forest,” Cam said.
“What are you thinking?” Yevin asked.
“I’m thinking they’re cutting trees to make scaling ladders. They’ll go for the windows next. Maybe the roof as well. Tear up the shingles and drop through.”
Smoke poured through the gaps of the trap door now. Ayja reached through the aether and snuffed the fire out. It was harder this time. The fire was much hotter and more established. She had no way of knowing if the stairs had been destroyed, but thought they were probably still standing.
With a wave of her hand she cleared the smoke from the hallway. “I might be able to burn their ladders,” she said.
“They’ll go for every window at once,” Cam said. “We won’t be able to defend them all.”
“I’ll
torch some of their ladders as they approach,” Ayja said. “That will leave fewer windows we have to defend.”
“Good idea. Now you get some rest. We will need your magic when the time comes.”
“I don’t think I can sleep with those things out there.” As if to make her point, one of the creatures let out a lonely, terrible cry.
“Just rest as best you can. If we’re going to live, it’s going to be by your magic.”
Ayja went to her own room. It was a luxury most people didn’t have, but with only Cam and her in the house, there was plenty of space. She had her own rope bed and straw filled mattress, as well as a chest for her clothing and a table for her books. Among her friends she was the only one who could read or write. Cam had insisted on it.
Ayja went to her window and peered out though a crack. Outside, somewhere in the forest, one of the ghuls howled. The sound sent a chill through her bones. No matter what Cam said, there was no way she’d be able to rest. She pulled off her helm and wiped the sweat from her brow.
The lych was an eternal, he claimed. He’d separated himself from the Orb of Creation. Cam had told her of the eternals and that her own father had been tricked into becoming one of them. They were incredibly powerful but utterly dependent on the Orb to sustain them.
Not any longer, apparently. Now some of them had separated themselves from the Orb. But how did they sustain themselves? Her father had nearly perished when the power of the Orb was withheld from him.
Now the lych was building an army of ghuls to serve him. To what end? Ayja frowned. Garion said he served the True King. She’d thought he was talking about Cragor, the varcolac who held the Orb of Creation. But if that was the case, why had the eternals separated themselves from the Orb?
Who was the True King?
There was a chorus of keening cries from outside. “Ayja! They’re coming!” Cam shouted.
She rolled out of bed and pulled her helm on. Opening the window, she peered into the darkness. Ghuls carried pine trees they’d cut down, lopping off the branches to make rough rungs like a ladder. They had one for every window. More ghuls ran alongside, heading for the downstairs windows.
