by R. T. Cole
“Enjoy the view now, while you can,” Jorga said from the back. “Once you pass through, you’ll never see the light of another day.”
Thasus hadn’t paid attention to the remark, as he was fixated on the spectacle before his eyes.
“This is impossible,” he caught himself saying aloud. The sisters chuckled.
“You’re a man of much knowledge, Prince Thasus,” Grenna started. “But, there is much that you still don’t understand about this world. Sadly...“
“Yes, yes, you’ll never find out.” Thasus mocked as he descended from the horse. “I’m sure you both love to hear yourselves talk. Am I right?”
Grenna gave Thasus a scathing look, and then unsheathed Archangel. She held it up in display, studying its blade.
“This is a fine blade. Surely, you’d like to die with your sword in your hand, rather than attempt to defend yourself with only your fists?” she threatened. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she brought up another point. “You’re lucky we gave you clothes on your back for this,” she said, pointing Archangel at the Frozen Wilds.
Admittedly, she was right. Putting his jokes aside, Thasus nodded in agreement, and Grenna tossed his sword down to his feet. She turned her horse around, but tilted her head toward Thasus.
“Good luck, Prince of the East,” she said in a singsong tone. Following suit behind her, Jorga couldn’t resist one more jab.
“You won’t last five minutes, weakling,” she said.
“Be seeing you,” he smiled back at her. Jorga grunted and she was on her way.
Thasus turned around and faced the curtain of snow. With Archangel in hand, he entered the Frozen Wilds. Immediately, he was bombarded by a flurry of snow and cold that he never experienced before.
Well, this is unpleasant, he thought in an understatement. He began to imagine that if he were to encounter Fenrok, how he would even hear anything over the winds. He brushed off this line of thinking, because his primary concern was getting out of there and heading for Whitecrest. He sat down beside a tree and began to concentrate, using his Pathfinding ability to locate an exit that would bring him closer to his destination.
Have to search the entire forest, he conceded.
Within his mind, he raced around the Wilds, moving faster than he would in reality. He searched endlessly for a way out, all the meanwhile, his body was being hit with snow and ice pellets that continued to disrupt his concentration.
Damn it!
After a few moments, he persevered. He continued his search until he found something: the end of the forest, which seemed to be another veil just like the one he passed through.
This is it, he exclaimed to himself.
Making his way back to his body, he would memorize the trail the led to the way out. Suddenly, as his mind was catching up to his body, he noticed a large figure skulking behind some trees to his far right. He lingered for a moment to get a closer look, but then he heard the howling. The noise was so abrupt it brought him right out of his Pathfinding state, and his eyes opened wide while he gasped. He succeeded in memorizing the path to the exit, but Fenrok now stood in his way.
Thasus was ready for anything at this point, but he wanted to avoid the fight if possible. He stuck to the tress as he made his way out. Sneaking looks around the corner every now and then, he checked for any sign of the beast.
AWOOO!
There it was again. He suddenly thought it was silly of him to think he wouldn’t hear the beast over the sound of the winds. Though, this howling was something vile; nothing like the sound of a normal wolf. Worry began to creep inside Thasus, but he pushed on. Making his way further toward his destination, his heart pumped so hard, he thought it might explode from his chest.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Feeling the ground tremble, the Prince’s eyes grew large. He slowly turned another corner, and was swiftly face-to-face with the jaws of the great Fenrok. He fell back, still hoisting Archangel, as the creature snarled and barked. Fenrok’s blood-red eyes were locked onto Thasus, his teeth sharpened and ready to devour his prey. Thasus was up again, and he quickly made the first move, slashing Fenrok’s nose with Archangel. The beast reeled back and let out a scream that echoed throughout the Wilds, causing Thasus to cover his ears from the pain.
Fenrok turned toward the Prince again, this time with revenge in his gaze. Thasus was at the ready again, and he slashed wildly at Fenrok, hoping to keep the beast back. It wasn’t working, however, and Fenrok remained steady and focused, looking for an opening to attack. Thasus grew frustrated, as Fenrok still blocked his path. He decided to start a different approach and he ran from tree to tree, attempting to draw Fenrok away. The wolf was so large that its entire body took up the space of three trees that were already well separated. It didn’t take Fenrok long to catch up to Thasus, as the man ran. The creature found an opening and chomped at Thasus, but the man evaded the horrific jaws and Fenrok took down an entire tree instead. As this point, Thasus used the distraction to his advantage and stabbed one of Fenrok’s front paws to the ground, causing another loud roar from the creature.
Within moments, Fenrok slipped his paw from the blade and snarled at Thasus again in defiance. Pushing on his two front paws, he stood up. Thasus looked on in awe, as the beast now towered above him, standing the size of three or four men.
“Shit,” Thasus cursed.
Fenrok walked toward Thasus, intent of finishing the battle quickly. Thasus, still in shock, raised Archangel in a defensive stance. The beast clawed at the Prince violently, roaring with each strike. Even when Thasus parried the claws and landed a couple of hits of his own, the sword didn’t seem to affect Fenrok’s rage.
Suddenly, the beast used one of his claws to pin down Thasus’s sword, while using the other to slash the man’s face. Thasus yelped in pain, as the red liquid pouring from his wounds blinded his eyes. Fenrok let out a soft growl, signifying his satisfaction. Thasus quickly gathered himself, ripping a portion of his garb to bandage his face. After tying off the back in an attempt to stop the bleeding, he was cruelly aware of his new predicament: he couldn’t see. Hastily, he concentrated on Fenrok’s location. He wouldn’t be able to keep his projection going, as he’d need to move away from the beast’s attacks, but he was able to utilize his power like never before; using it in “flashes”, Thasus was able to maneuver and keep an eye on Fenrok all at once.
There!
Thasus found Fenrok, and at the same time, he saw the veil just a few trees away. Making his way toward the exit, Thasus lost his footing in the heavy snow. Using his power in short bursts was new to him, and he had to concentrate more than ever if he was to escape. He spit out wads of snow as he got back to his feet, when it occurred to him that he could use his power to find something else he needed. He turned around and faced the charging behemoth heading his way, who was still on his hind legs, looking massive as he drew closer. Standing still, Thasus had more control now.
Concentrate. Concentrate.
Fenrok was almost upon him.
Concentrate. YES, there it is!
It seemed obvious to him, but he waved off the thought and prepared for the impending moment. Fenrok approached Thasus with ferocious speed; the man used this against the beast. In a whirlwind of motions, Thasus swung at Fenrok’s leg, bringing the beast down to the ground; almost immediately, Fenrok raised his head, finding Archangel plunged upward into his throat, with Thasus grasping the sword with both hands on the other end. With a shrill death rattle, the legendary creature was dead.
Thasus retrieved his sword and let out a sigh of relief. Finally, he turned and crossed the snow curtain, happy to see just the minimal amount of snow on the other side. Taking a few minutes to Pathfind his way to Whitecrest, he set out across the frozen tundra once again.
Chapter 21
ULTIMATUM
“You bungling fool!”
Object after object found its way to the ground, across the room, and in Draven’s direct vicinity. Kelbain’s
wrath was in full display as the objects on the ground were soon ablaze in a wondrous image of pure wildfire. Draven was visibly shook; he had let Dirce escape and would most likely pay the price for it. This was something he could not let happen.
“My King, apologies. I did not...“
“You should’ve known how an Illusionist truly worked!” Kelbain scathed. “The moment we found out she was a Reader, you should’ve assumed she was also a Changer. Or did you not think about that?” Kelbain spoke to Draven the same way a parent would chastise their child for making a mistake. “It’s a rarer skill, but it does exist.”
“My King, please...“
With a flash from the hilt, a random sword on the wall found its way into Kelbain’s hands and he swung hard at Draven.
SMASH!
Looks of bewilderment surrounded the room. Kelbain was in shock, his soldiers were stunned, and Draven was unharmed. The sword that Kelbain used, as he attempted to execute Draven, was broken into a number of pieces on the floor.
Draven peered into Kelbain’s eyes with disdain. “Immune to steel,” he stated. “That was one of my first acquirements.”
Kelbain waved to his men and his soldiers grasped Draven by the arms. Kelbain unsheathed Hyperion this time, and approached Draven, holding the blade to the mercenary’s throat.
“Not immune to this next stroke, are you?” Kelbain threatened.
“Wait, wait!” Draven panicked. “I can find her!”
Kelbain’s eyes narrowed. He considered the man for a moment, though he wanted nothing more than to behead him right then and there.
“I put too much trust in you before. Why should I put my faith in you again?” Kelbain questioned.
“If you let me find her, I’ll bring her back to you in one piece,” Draven panted. “I know how important she is to you, Your Grace. I won’t let anything happen to her, I swear it.”
Kelbain held Draven’s gaze to test for a hint of hesitation on Draven’s part. He found none in the man’s eyes. Motioning to the guards to release Draven, he kept Hyperion firmly on the man’s neck.
“If you come back without her, Woodhaven is no longer yours. You’ll spend your days rotting in our dungeons as the rats keep you company between the moments of torture that you’ll endure. Oh yes, we’ll find new things for you to become immune to. We’ll spend years in discovery; you’ll feel every bit of pain and suffering that we’ll inflict upon you; and when we’ve finally found that you've become impervious to every known substance in all of Areon: I will have your head,” Kelbain said with finality.
Draven took note of everything that Kelbain had just said. He silently vowed to put the West King in his place very soon. But, for now, he would play the role in order to obtain Woodhaven. It was too important to him.
The West King removed the blade from the mercenary’s throat and sheathed it again.
“Remember, Draven,” Kelbain warned. “My own son did not escape my vengeance. Don’t fail me again.”
Draven nodded in agreement, but kept to his secret pledge. You’ll regret crossing me. Perhaps I’ll make Dirce my bride instead. Then, we’ll crush you. Wishful thinking, he considered, but an option at the very least. The other option he had always considered was to make Dirce his concubine, but he knew the Illusionist would never go for that. It was risky enough to have someone controlling thoughts around you, but someone who could change into other people – that was a very different story. He had his work cut out for him, bringing her back here.
“My King, would it be possible to allow a clutch of your fine soldiers to accompany me on this quest?” Draven requested.
“Fine. You’ll need the fastest horses I can offer you, as well,” Kelbain admitted. He was thinking about the fact that Dirce made off with fastest animal in the stables; but the King digressed. “You’ll have no problem catching up to her. The scouts last reported that she was seen riding past Pandorim and towards the end of the Western border.”
“Then, I’ll be on my way,” Draven assured the West King.
A little while later, in front of the castle, Draven and the men of Zenithor prepared to leave. He turned back for a moment once he heard Kelbain yelling orders to his other men.
“I leave for Karthmere! My faithful generals will watch over Zenithor in my short absence; they have their orders! Woodhaven is being garrisoned by 50 of my men at the moment, until we can find a worthy Lord for the forest land!”
Draven felt the sting of that comment, but continued to listen to the man speak.
“The West is mine!” Kelbain declared. “We will let no one tear us asunder; we will let no man rule our destiny! Soon, I shall rule all of Areon, but together we will bask in all of its splendor and glory! For the might of Magor’s blood runs through my veins, and for Him, we shall not be defeated!”
Through the cries and cheers of the irrational men who followed Kelbain, Draven could only think of the hypocrisy. He and Dirce knew the truth of Kelbain’s intentions: the plot to bring back Magor. He was sure that the other soldiers in the room during the Single Combat heard it too, though he imagined they hadn’t the stomach to question or oppose their King. Time would tell if the West King could pull that stunt off, but Draven wasn’t going to stick around and listen to the man prattle on any longer. He had a singular mind to catch up to Dirce and then he would decide what to do next.
Woodhaven will be mine, he convinced himself. He turned back towards the horizon, followed by the men who would assist him in catching Dirce.
“First things first,” he said quietly.
Chapter 22
ROAD TO EVERMOUNT
The party was on the move again. Just days after the battle with the bandits, Rudimere and his group of family and friends were feeling the hurt of their losses. They had lost the majority of the Dragoons that left Angelia with them. Rudi felt a solid amount of guilt for that, but his companions tried to convince him that war would only bring more tragedy and loss; it was something that didn’t make him feel better, but he understood the sentiment all the same.
Rudi led the caravan, side by side with Ashra, followed by Merroc and Jasian. Mika had taken it upon himself to venture out every so often to scout ahead for any other threats; Rudi was starting to appreciate the man’s talents, even though he already owed the man his life. Paxton and the rest of the survivors brought up the rear. It hurt the others to see Paxton in such disarray, especially when their friend couldn't keep his hands off the wine. He’d chosen to stay in the back, because he didn’t feel welcome standing by Rudi and Ashra any longer.
“Is he going to be alright?” Ashra asked Rudi.
“I hope so,” Rudi said in a concerned tone.
Attempting to change the subject, Ashra brought up a slightly lighter topic. “Well, it looks you’re all healed up; a lot quicker than we thought,” she admitted.
“Thanks, Ashra,” Rudi said. “I’m just worried about Skymane right now.”
Taking a look at his horse, he couldn’t help but notice the tiredness in his eyes. Placing his hand in the air, Rudi beckoned the group. “Hold, everyone!” The party came to a stop and Rudi descended Skymane. Determined to take care of his friend, he gathered some firewood so they could all rest; shortly after, the sound of slow galloping resonated in his ears.
“No wonder they call you the ‘horse-lord’,” Paxton slurred. “You care more about that beast than you do your own friends.”
Rudi had enough. With one swift motion, he unclasped the reigns on Paxton’s horse, forcing the man to fall off.
“Ow! What are you...“
Rudi climbed atop Paxton, punching his friend in the face in a persistent attempt to wake his friend from his drunken stuper. After Pax returned the barrage of fists with a shot or two of his own, it took both Ashra and Jasian to break up the brawl. While Jasian grabbed Rudi, Ashra took a hold of Paxton and yelled at him.
“What is wrong with you?!”
A large amount of hate and anger boiled inside Pa
xton. He wasn’t sure if it was towards Ashra, at Jasian, or just everyone, but he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Plus, the wine had given him an exceptional amount of courage.
“You wanna know?” he stumbled as he spoke. “I love you, Ashra! I always have! I know that you love Jasian! I know it!” he said with tears in his eyes. Ashra looked on in silence, as she had no words to reject or confirm the statements. Paxton became angry at Ashra’s lack of speech and threw his hands in the air. “Ah, forget it!” he said, walking away from the group. Ashra gazed at him in disappointment as he sat next to a tree, wallowing in his self-pity.
“I never understood the point of love,” Merroc blurted out to Mika, both of them a good distance away from the tension. “I never found the time for it, anyway.”
“Sometimes love is all that’s worth fighting for,” Mika countered as he shrugged.
Merroc turned to Mika as if someone had just snapped him out of a deep sleep; he suddenly remembered that he didn’t care for Mika too much, given the man’s reputation.
“What do you know of it, Sageslayer?” Merroc said mockingly.
Mika returned the look with one of confusion. He wasn’t one to get into arguments that would lead nowhere; instead, he pulled out a couple of apples and threw one of them to Merroc.
“Good catch, friend!” Mika exclaimed as he took a bite of the apple in his hand. “You just need to lighten up a little bit. There’ll be plenty of time to get serious as we head further down the road,” he cautioned.
Merroc considered Mika’s warning; he knew this area and the dangers that awaited them, but was more worried that either Paxton’s drunken behavior or Jasian’s imaginary tryst with Ashra would get them killed. He took a bite of his apple, hoping for a moment of indulgence.
