Infused (Book 2 of The Pioneers Saga)

by William Stadler

  “No one, I don’t suppose.”

  “Take my carriage, and go home to your late wife,” said Wex.

  Raylen fixed his coat. Wex needed him, and those words encouraged him; Raylen was convinced that he wouldn’t let Wex down again. He’d fulfill his end of the alliance. Wex left and he took the Void north with him towards Bachenlaw.

  Raylen stood beneath the canopy. The Deficit from the women had reduced the temperature so much that the ice wasn’t melting. He had to do something about that. He couldn’t leave any evidence that any Polarists had been around at the time of Dena’s death. He searched the bodies on the ground, and he saw Lo, the member of the Triage with the locks, and he saw Dena. He knew that there were four dead Polarist women around also, so needed to find them as well.

  Wex told him to go home to mourn the death of his wife, but there wasn’t time for that. He had to get things ready for his rise to power. He needed to have things in order for when he and Wex could go public with their alliance.

  The night seemed thick, and the canopy hung lower. The world felt like it was caving in on him. He had to work fast if he was going to hide the bodies. He didn’t want to come near Dena’s corpse because he had nothing to do with her death, and he didn’t want anything leading back to him.

  He absorbed the heat around him, and he transferred it to the ice that enclosed the area from The Deficit. Branches cracked and broke as the pressure of the ice released from them. Heavy globules of water splashed on his head and onto the ground, drenching the entire area.

  He placed the bodies in the carriage, all except for Dena’s. He took the necessary care to freeze Lo’s body, for he knew what he was going to do with his corpse. He covered the buggy of his carriage, and he headed home to Valenheid.

  When he approached the border, the patrollers were waiting for him — two Spiritualists and two Polarists. He couldn’t let them know what he was doing. He had already allowed the people in his hometown of Yugan to be killed. What were a few more bodies? And with these patrollers, he wouldn’t have to be so meticulous about covering up the remains since the borders were a harsh area anyway. Maybe he wouldn’t have any trouble from them. Judging from their expressions, that didn’t seemed likely.

  One of the Spiritualists made his way over to Raylen, his heavy cloak draping around him and the faint brilliance of his violet emblem squeezing through the threads of the lining. “What’s in the cart?”

  Raylen fidgeted nervously, not letting go of the reigns, though his hands sweated against the leather. “Just some wares that I brought to trade.”

  “What kinds of wares?”

  “Perene fur. A few drag bags and some Sweet Drink.”

  The guard lifted his head just above the cart, looking down with his eyes. “Sweet Drink, you say?”

  The other Spiritualist stepped in closer. Her violet emblem flickered behind the threads of her sari. The look on their faces reeked of thievery. They knew that they could get several hundred silver with a shipment of Sweet Drink. Raylen slowly dropped the temperature of the life forms around him, not letting on that he was aware of guards’ intended ambush. If he killed these Spiritualists, then he will have to kill the Polarists also. No one could prevent the pending alliance between Wex and him.

  One of the Polarists walked over to the Spiritualists with ice forming on his hands. “You might want to rethink that.”

  “I’m not trying to be difficult,” said the Spiritualist guard. “I’m just doing my job.”

  “But your job doesn’t include you interrogating our Receptives,” said the Polarist.

  “We can check whomever we feel like we should.”

  The Polarists lowered the temperature gradually as a threat, chilling the breeze.“You sure you want to do this?”

  The Spiritualist fixed his cloak about his shoulders. Violet,gray spirits emerged from the depths of the terrain. “Either show us what’s in the cart or I’ll do it myself.”

  The Polarist guard’s hands turned to blocks of ice. “I disagree.” Ice particles swirled around him as he raced toward the Spiritualists. The other Polarist followed. They charged at the Spiritualists with rage in their eyes, screaming. The temperature dropped below freezing. Raylen stayed seated in the carriage holding the reigns, entertained by their passion. His lips peeled back with a small smirk. These men would do anything for me.

  Dozens of spirits that arose from the ground trekked in sync behind the two Spiritualist guards. The spirits pushed the Polarists back, but the temperature was too low for the spirits to be fatal. The other Spiritualist pulled out two daggers from her belt. She rushed at the guards with both blades over her head. Ice spikes burst out of the ground around her, but she rolled out of the way before they could entrap her. She balanced herself on her knee. Her sari draped across the ground. Runs of ice traveled towards her from the Polarist guards. She dodged them.

  Kneeling down, she pressed her fists together with the knife edges pointing skyward. She clenched her eyes tightly. Amidst the chill, beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. Spirits surfaced around her through the cold.

  A Polarist guard forged an iced sword, raised it above his head, and brought it down towards the Spiritualist’s neck. One of the conjured apparitions caught his hand. The Polarist’s jaw dropped as he stared into the lifeless eyes of the entity. The more fear that filled the Polarist, the more he was overtaken by ghost.

  The woman’s eyes jumped open. She sprang to her feet, losing control over the spirit. The man’s hand slid free as the apparition faded. He turned to run, but the woman jabbed both blades into his neck. She could feel the tips of the blades clink against each other inside of his throat. The woman stepped back, watching the man fall to his knees. Stepping back, she gasped. A pain dispersed throughout her body. She looked down, and an ice sword jutted out her chest. The other Polarist had run her through.

  The created blade remained in her, and he formed another just like it in his other hand. The remaining Spiritualist guard rushed at the Polarist. Raylen had seen enough. He reached his hand out, and a thin line of ice streamed up the Spiritualist’s leg and enclosed around his waist. The line thickened and held the man to the ground while the ice tightened around his stomach. He struggled to get free.

  Raylen kept his hand outstretched. “Beg for your life, and I might let you live.”

  The Spiritualist jerked his head towards Raylen. There was hope in his eyes. “Please. Don’t kill me.”

  “Now tell me this,” Raylen said, looking at the horizon rather than at the man. “Tell me why you didn’t just let me pass?”

  “I was only doing my job. I have a family. Please don’t do this.” The more the guard struggled, the thicker the ice around his waist became. The sharp edges from the frozen liquid dug into his skin.

  “A family?” Raylen asked, turning his gaze to the Spiritualist. “Any children?”

  The Spiritualist nodded swiftly. “Four. All girls. I do this patrol so that I can take care of them.”

  “That’s a pity,” said Raylen in his nagging, pitchy voice. “A pity that you couldn’t even tell them goodbye.” He closed his fist, and the edges of the ice around the guard’s waist sliced through him. Raylen sighed and knuckled his emblem. He didn’t want to kill them, but there was no way that he was going to give up his chance at leading his people. He had spent too much time waiting for this opportunity — over fifteen years, and a minor slip-up at the border was not going to be the thing that did him in.

  “Are you hurt?” Raylen asked the Polarist guard.

  The Polarist dropped his hands to his side. “No.” He looked at the body of his dead friend, then he turned his gaze up at Raylen who was seated comfortably on the carriage. “You could have stopped this!” he said. “He didn’t have to die!’

  “Is there a problem?” Raylen asked.

  The man grabbed his bearskin hat and clenched it on his chest. “You let him die.”

  Raylen looked over his cart at the body of
the dead Polarist. “Hur Jevar, right?”

  The Polarist loosened his grasp on the hat and mumbled a few words. “Yeah...how’d you know that?”

  “From the eastern city of Pilanor. I know him. He killed two people a few weeks ago, and he thought that no one knew about it. I guess he figured he’d just go back to work, and everyone would forget.” Raylen leaned towards the guard and tapped himself on the side of the head. “Not me. I never forget. And that’s why, Agen Calt, that’s why I would certainly like to take the late Governor Jon Uliah's place.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “I keep my eye on the Valenheid border patrollers. It’s because of you that we remain safe, except for that atrocious marauding in Yugan. But other than that, you have certainly done your job well, Agen, and you will be rewarded in kind.”

  The man nodded in honor. “I appreciate that, Raylen.”

  “When you get back to your hometown of Pilanor, ask around about old Hur. The rumors speak for themselves. Polarists killing Polarists. Not under my rulership.” Raylen snapped the reigns and rode off. The Polarist man watched in amazement as this man, Raylen Fevin, disappeared into the horizon.

  Raylen rode through the snow-covered paths in Valenheid. The streets were filled with ice, making exportation of Valenheid products difficult. Once he was instated as governor, he was going to make sure that these roadways were easier to travel. He was certainly going to be a better governor than Polarist Jon Uliah ever was.

  He traveled far west to the destroyed town of Yugan, and to his surprise, he discovered something that would assist his case to the council. Outside of the city, spirits surfaced and resurfaced in a Vortex that was never moved. Lo must have forgotten to collapse the Vortex after they destroyed the town. The snow glistened with a purplish-blue mist from the appearances of the soft moaning spirits. The council would be too busy to travel this far west, but at least he would be able to make a plausible case before them explaining what happened.

  As he entered the city, the shrapnel was still strewn about. The homes were demolished or burned down from the smoldering flames. The town was in ruin with bodies still frozen to the ice. No one had given them a proper burial. Governor Jon didn’t care about his people as much as he did.

  He scoured the corpses searching for his wife Jairah and his son Rahn. Their bodies were in the common area, frozen solid and staring into an icy abyss. Raylen had watched Fray massacre them both before his eyes. The memory of his beloved stuck in his mind like a lodged dagger, never to be removed. He had to bury the bodies — even the ones that he’d brought with him from Broughtonhaven. All of them except for Lo’s.

  The task was more of a challenge than he first thought. Not because of the labor of it. The shock of seeing the faces of the people he had betrayed was greater than he assumed it would be. Their blue and expressionless faces were covered with flecks of ice and snow. The ground was too hard to dig into, so Raylen froze the corpses into blocked prisms.

  He headed to the capitol city of Gilganstor where he spent a few days at the Faithful Inn to give the guise of mourning for his wife’s death. A man burst into his room. Raylen was startled at first, but he saw that it was his trainee, Hydric.

  “Raylen. I have some news. Wex has been killed!”

  Raylen's heart sank. Everything that he had been planning up to this point had been shattered with just a few words. Wex always believed that he would succeed, especially because he had the Voids, and Raylen was beginning to believe it too. Raylen had been only a few days from becoming the governor of Valenheid, and now, nothing would come of his years of sacrifice.

  He tried to speak, but the words were shifty and limp. “Wh...What happened?”

  Hydric brushed off his broad shoulders and closed the door. The candlelight sank into his dark skin. His words were succinct. “A band of Wanderers showed up, and with the help of the other provinces, he didn’t survive the battle.”

  “I don’t understand. Wex said that the Voids were unstoppable.”

  “Apparently he was incorrect. The Wanderers had some unique ways to harness the powers of the emblems. The Common have been rumoring that without their help, the provinces would have been crushed, but none of the true citizens admit to that.”

  “Does anyone know where these Wanderers learned this?” Raylen asked.

  “Not that I know of, and everyone has been quiet about it all. What are we going to do?”

  “I’m not sure, and now that Wex is dead, there’s no way to rally against Polarist Connor so that I can take over as governor in Jon Uliah’s stead.”

  The room became silent, and Hydric let a smile slide across his face. He pushed back his curly hair and adjusted his shoulders within in his heavy jacket. “That’s the other thing. Governor Jon is dead.”

  Raylen sat up in his chair. “Wait. How?” he asked with little concern for Jon.

  “He was trying to kill one of the Voids, and it crushed him underneath its weight.”

  “This may not be bad after all. If Jon is dead, then that means that the people will be looking for someone to stand in his place. The people already believe in me. I just need to reinstate myself in their eyes as someone who is capable of leading Valenheid.”

  “That certainly could work. If the people see you as his rightful successor, then they will be more apt to accept your appointment. And Raylen. The people are crushed. They really need a strong leader to step up and take control.”

  “Then let’s do this now!” Raylen stood up too quickly, and his chair slammed against the floor. He fixed his robe and prepared to travel to the towns to elevate himself in front of the people.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I will travel to the eastern cities. You go west and express my sadness about Jon’s death, but explain my resolve to take over as governor. In a month, I will attend the Alpha Council and accept the appointment. Afterwards, I will reveal my knowledge about certain things that will win the council’s approval.”

  “The Alpha Council was destroyed in the battle. We aren’t sure where they will rebuild it.”

  “That’s the least of my worries,” said Raylen. “I’m sure that once they rebuild it, they will inform the provinces. I just need to make sure that I show up. With Wex dead, this may be better for Valenheid after all. I didn’t trust him anyway. Valenheid will finally have a voice, and we will be respected.”

  With that, Raylen packed his things and he started his campaign. His first speech was in the center of Gilganstor. The people gathered in the square, and he stood amongst them. There were balconies high above, but he didn’t want to show himself to be elevated above his people. He was one of them.

  The wind chill was heavy, but the Polarists were accustomed to the weather. Thick wool hats and heavy jackets draped over the shoulders of the men and women. Raylen lifted his flabby arms and before he could speak, the people erupted into gallant applause, chanting his name. It was musical. This was what he always wanted. This was how he had dreamed it would be. He had made a name for himself, and he had his emblem to thank for that.

  He knuckled his gem and he motioned for the crowd to calm down. They burst into a vivid celebrations. People were whistling and cheering and dancing. He bowed before them, and the applause escalated.

  “Citizens of Gilganstor and heroes of Valenheid!” His voice was sturdy. An inviting smile pasted itself on his lips. He couldn’t let it go.

  The people beckoned to one another to hush. They wanted to hear what he had to say. Women were crying, holding their children, and they had him to thank for it. He had single-handedly orchestrated the silent treaty to protect the infants of Valenheid, and now their mothers were forever grateful.

  “Our Governor, Jon Uliah, served with the valiance that only my people know! He gave his life so that we could prosper in a world free from oppressors!” Now was his chance to alienate himself from Wex. “Oppressors like the Spiritualist Tyrant, Wex Braun!”

  People cur
sed into the air. They felt betrayed that Wex allowed their women to come to Broughtonhaven only to use the Voids to try to demolish the provinces. Raylen used this to his advantage.

  “But that oppression is no longer a threat.” He paused with this hands raised, snowflakes melting on his palms. “So though we mourn our losses, we press on! We fight!”

  The people clapped and murmured to one another.

  “I am both grateful and saddened to inform you of the recent discoveries.” The crowd quieted down again in anticipation. “The assassins who leveled our dear city and my hometown of Yugan have been found. I regret to inform you that it was a plot from our neighbors to the south. The Spiritualists.”

  The crowd grumbled. They couldn’t believe it, but they weren’t convinced. Some people yelled out humbly. “How could they destroy Yugan? We Dominate them.”

  “From these trained executioners!” Raylen uncovered a few of the bodies that resembled Lo, one of the members of the Triage. “These men have delved into the darkness that those witches practice, and for that reason, they were able to demolish our western friends. Our western family! This cannot be tolerated!”

  The people cursed and screamed, drunk from their own rage. Their fury consumed them.

  A man from the crowd hollered out. “What are we going to do about it?”

  Raylen put his hands on his hips and dropped his head, soaking in all the praise. The crowd fell silent again. He looked up at them, and his eyes were set.

  “This may be a dark time, but with your support, I am willing to lead our people into the light. Into a greater tomorrow. Into a future that we, the citizens of Valenheid...no that we POLARISTS have never seen!” He yelled into the crowd, and his voice echoed off the buildings. He iced over his fist and punched into the air. The people did the same.

  They exploded into an uncontrollable chant. “Raylen! Raylen! Raylen! Raylen!” Raylen made his way through the intensity-drunk audience greeting people as he tunneled through. The thrill was intoxicating, and the people accepted him unanimously. This was what he always wanted.