by James Somers
“He killed the dragons that attacked Haven,” the second man said.
“You and I weren’t even born when that supposedly happened. Who says it ever did? Ezekiah and his followers, that’s who. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to the rally this afternoon, and I think you should come with me.”
Jillian listened but the other man never answered the invitation.
When their meal had concluded, the two men seated behind her stood from their table and started toward the door, hardly paying any attention to her. Jillian had finished much earlier but had been waiting for this moment. The men walked out of The Bubbling Cauldron, one of them shouting back toward the kitchen, complimenting the cook, Rosie, as they exited.
Jillian rose from her table as well, quickly making her way to the door. When she left the tavern, both men were standing ten paces away on the boardwalk running along this side of the street. One of them, a skinny fellow she took for the first man she had heard, was picking his teeth with his fingernail. “Sure you won’t come?” he asked the other fellow.
“I’m due back at the farm,” the larger, bearded man said. “Perhaps tomorrow?”
“Shalindra may be here all week,” the skinny man said. “She has promised to show us her power today; a miracle of some sort I think.”
The man’s fervor was undeniable. He had seen this woman, Shalindra, one time and was now ready to follow her in open rebellion to Ezekiah’s reign? These were curious things indeed.
“Miracles you say?” the bearded man asked.
“Surely that’s more important than your farming for one day,” skinny said.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing a miracle, if this is all for real and not some charlatan’s trick.”
The skinny man smiled with crooked teeth. “Come on, while we can still get close to the pavilion.”
He led the way, and the bearded man reluctantly followed him. Jillian surveyed the street and the boardwalks where people went about their daily routines, conducting business with local merchants and such. Children played in alleyways here and there while the occasional horse drawn wagon drove down the street. This mysterious Shalindra was Jillian’s best prospect for finding the one she sought, and the woman had arrived only yesterday.
Jillian followed the skinny man and his companion, keeping just enough distance to remain inconspicuous. She noticed after several minutes that the closer they got to the pavilion, the skinny man had mentioned, the more the human tide seemed to be flowing in the same direction. The pavilion itself was little more than an open air platform that likely served as an auction block for the sale of livestock.
Several hundred people were easily in attendance already with more added every moment. Jillian’s keen eyes quickly found those among the crowd who bore weapons on their persons. They were standing near a squat man dressed a bit finer than most. In her experience, he was likely a politician of some sort. This Shalindra had evidently caused something of a stir with her speech-making, and the local council intended to see her ousted before further trouble could occur.
The crowd milled about, waiting for the mystery woman to show herself. Some had come to see miracles, others wanted the rabble-rouser in their midst gone. Undoubtedly, the majority were here simply to see something interesting happen, having no investment whatsoever in the outcome.
Nearly thirty minutes passed without any sign from Shalindra. Still, Jillian remained patient. She had all the time in the world to dispense justice. The mood of the crowd grew from curiosity to an outright hunger for the woman to appear. Rumors were flying left and right throughout the assembly, stirring emotions, welling to a fever pitch.
Then she was simply standing there upon the dais. To the average observer, Shalindra seemed to have materialized from nothing; a great miracle in of itself. However, Jillian knew the truth. This young woman, with fiery plumes adorning her hair, had used a highly coveted gift from the time of the wraith dancers serving Belial the Glorious.
Jillian alone had seen the slight blurring, a fuzzing of the woman’s features that was the hallmark of the Shadow Walk. Now she knew for certain that Shalindra somehow possessed the gifts of a wraith dancer. Despite common knowledge that no new women had been found possessing such abilities, here she stood. In her hand she held Ramin’s staff, now adorned with one of the crimson plumes she wore on her person.
Jillian’s fists clenched tightly at her sides as she attempted to control the fury welling within her, desiring to be unleashed. Only a fool would attack such a person without as much knowledge as she could gain about her. Even Jillian had never attained to the Shadow Walk. Her vengeance would not be as easily gained as she might have hoped.
Much of the crowd erupted in cheers upon Shalindra’s arrival. Others, the politician and his lackeys included, remained silent, waiting to see what would happen. Jillian listened as the woman held Ramin’s staff aloft, begging her adoring fans for the opportunity to impart her wisdom unto them.
Jillian took mental stock of every weapon on her person. The fact that she was dressed the way that she was and with a sword slung between her shoulders had apparently not alarmed anyone. After all, she was alone and was not dressed in the uniform of the current High Guard. Still, she had noticed Shalindra focus briefly upon her before moving on to survey the rest of the crowd.
“My people!” she began as the assembly quieted. She paused, further gaining everyone’s attention. “The time of Renewal has finally come. Our lord, Belial, has invested me with the power to usher in his glorious kingdom and supplant the haughty regime that now oppresses each and every one of you.”
Jillian could not believe what she was hearing. This girl had somehow come unto the knowledge of the Serpent Kings, claiming Belial as her benefactor. Certainly that claim had substance already since she clearly possessed the Gifts of Transcendence. But how had it happened?
She and Varen had heard news of Ezekiah’s victory over the dragons. Many eyewitnesses had carried the news of their destruction throughout the cities and towns beyond Haven in the days following the great battle on that day when she and Varen had escaped to be together.
“So, the prophet lied to them?” she said under her breath. Something was not right in all of this.
“The High Serpent King requires your faithful service in order to bestow this new kingdom upon you,” Shalindra continued. “Only he can take away your every problem and offer you the prosperity you so richly deserve!”
The crowd came alive at her preaching. Jillian couldn’t believe how receptive they were to this message concerning a dragon god none of them had any real knowledge of. She prepared to make her move, but the politician and his gang rushed the dais first. “Arrest her!”
Those in favor of Shalindra’s message cried out in opposition, while others moved to block the onrushing crowd. Men with weapons came upon the platform; some with guns, others with manacles, intending to take this prophetess alive. Jillian knew what the end would be before it ever started. Seven men were the first to reach her, brandishing rifles and pistols as though they posed some real threat.
Shalindra remained calm until the first hand touched her wrist. She immediately broke the hold and the arm of the man who had dared to restrain her. Her foot to his stomach sent him rolling doubled in pain. The next man raised a pistol, intending to aim the weapon at her. She blocked the man at his forearm, catching the hand as she bent the wrist back, forcing him to shoot himself in the face. An explosion of gunpowder and blood showered those nearby with gore. Another two raised their machine guns while the other three were tripping over one another, trying to backtrack away from Shalindra. Ramin’s staff, which had been left leaning against the podium, flew of its own volition to her extended hand.
Jillian rushed forward, knocking civilians out of her way as she ran toward the platform. The two men wielding machine guns fired upon Shalindra as she caught the staff in her left hand. She disappeared as bullets sprayed the podium behind her, chewing up the wood in
a hail of frantic gunfire.
Almost immediately, Shalindra appeared between the two gunmen. Her staff ricocheted between the gun of one to the head of the other back to the ribs of the first then the arms of the second. Both men were reduced to broken, bleeding masses of pain within seconds.
Jillian came skidding to a halt in the dirt beneath the platform as Shalindra’s attackers fell away above. She found the prophetess, looking through the floorboards for her target. Jillian called upon the Gifts of Transcendence, plunging deeply within the pool of spiritual power, utilizing her access as she had not done in many years.
Calling upon the force of the Ram, she thrust her hands upward. The platform bucked beneath Shalindra’s feet then gave way in an explosion of shattered lumber that threw her up and away. The prophetess of Belial tumbled haphazardly before righting herself midair and landing among a quickly parting crowd.
Jillian shot up through the gaping hole in the platform, somersaulting once then landing before the podium. Shalindra barely had time to acknowledge her new attacker. She would have spoken, but Jillian thrust out again with the Ram, pummeling the podium and sending all of it hurtling toward her. A wave of Shalindra’s hand deflected the cloud of wooden shards, sending them instead into the bystanders around her. Half a dozen people were knocked to the ground impaled multiple times by fragments of wood.
The crowd scattered at this point, seeking a safer distance from which to watch this battle of titans. None of the so-called lawmen that had tried a moment ago to apprehend Shalindra dared to intervene now. They hoped this new player would take her down for them.
“Time has not been your friend, Jillian,” Shalindra said.
Jillian pulled up short of her next attack. “Do we know one another?”
“You once served me within my High Guard, wraith dancer.” Firelight with no discernable origin danced within Shalindra’s eyes as she grinned fiercely.
In that moment, Jillian knew that this creature was not entirely human. Whoever this Shalindra had once been, she was now the marionette of Belial. Somehow, he had managed to survive his defeat at the hands of Ezekiah centuries ago. He had invested himself within this frail creature, transforming her into a formidable foe. All the better for him to strike back at Ezekiah. However, he had killed Jillian’s family in the process, and she could not allow it to pass. No matter whom this person now was she intended to kill them today, or die trying.
“Once but no more!” she screamed, launching three daggers from the brace at her side. Each dagger had been hurled upon a slightly deviating trajectory, but one of them was black while the others were bright silver. It was a trick Jillian had developed long ago in order to throw off her opponents. Their eyes would naturally focus upon the silver objects leaving the black unnoticed.
Her ploy worked. Shalindra sidestepped one blade, allowed the second to embed within the staff, while the third black dagger escaped her notice until it was too late. Shalindra screamed furiously as the blade found its mark in her flesh just to the right of her breastbone. The ribs cracked as the blade sank to its hilt.
Jillian didn’t wait to see how much damage the strike might do. With Belial in control she couldn’t be sure of anything unless she removed the girl’s head. Jillian launched herself at Shalindra with her sword drawn and ready. As expected the prophetess did not fall. The blade remained in her chest as she dodged away.
Jillian corrected her trajectory as she hit the ground, going after Shalindra, attempting to keep the girl on the run and unable to mount a proper counterattack. The prophetess growled as she dodged away again, twirling the staff as a shield against incoming sword strikes. Jillian remained relentless, swiping at the girl with near misses, hurling more knives as she changed direction.
The crowd moved with them, maintaining just enough distance to keep out of harm’s way while still watching all of the action unfolding before them. Shalindra’s new followers called to her, hoping for her to be victorious. Others called after her opponent, hoping to see the prophetess destroyed.
Shalindra exploded in a powerful move that drove Jillian away for just a moment. Then she disappeared. At least, she seemed to disappear to the crowd. Jillian knew better. Shalindra was Shadow Walking through the gifts. There were various ways to deal with such a maneuver; some more effective than others.
Jillian had figured out a more unconventional method she hoped might work, since she had never actually fought someone possessing the Shadow Walk before. She plunged into the gifts, calling for speed; as much speed as she could handle. While it was true that the Shadow Walk was more than simple speed, she hoped that her theory might just save her life today and allow her to defeat her enemy.
The power of the gifts filled her, and she burst toward the place where Shalindra had just been standing. With less than a second having passed between her influx of speed and the girls Shadow Walk she hoped to catch her off guard. As hoped, Shalindra’s blurred form appeared.
The prophetess was still moving much faster, but Jillian had closed the gap enough to at least see her. Shalindra redirected, coming after her with Ramin’s staff in hand. Jillian deflected several precision strikes, carving deep grooves into the wood of the staff with her sword.
Both women reappeared in normal time as Shalindra spun her weapon through Jillian’s defense. Ramin’s staff came crashing down across her collar bone, smashing it to pieces beneath her skin. Jillian cried out for the pain then drew upon her fury, calling for the Ram again. The explosive force battered Shalindra, sending her flying across the courtyard to land against the steps leading to the platform.
Jillian crumbled beneath the shock of using the Ram with her shattered clavicle. Her body was attempting to shut down, to throw her into unconsciousness in order to deal with the nearly overwhelming pain. Only her burning desire to avenge Varen and her sons kept her from collapsing.
Shalindra started to stand again, but Jillian desperately threw her sword at Belial’s prophetess. The blade drove into her stomach. She faltered, staggering as blood poured from the wound. Jillian hit her again with the Ram. The invisible force buffeted Shalindra again, smashing her through the wooden steps behind her.
The use of the Ram drained what strength Jillian had left. She fell to her knees with the world spinning in her vision. In her quest for vengeance she had driven herself too far. She was now beyond the point of no return. She could no longer stand, and in a moment she would no longer be able to breath. Varen’s face and those of her children swam in her vision. They seemed to call for her to join them.
Jillian looked at Shalindra’s prone form within the shattered steps, her sword protruding from the girl’s belly. The weapon quivered slightly. Jillian reached out for the gifts one last time, but rather than responding to her call they simply stole what life was left within her. She gasped, calling out Varen’s name one last time before she fell; face first, onto the dusty courtyard. She did not move again.
Shalindra stirred among the fragmented lumber, kicking away the pieces that hindered her from standing. When she had reached her feet again, the prophetess looked upon the sword then withdrew it painfully. She did the same to the dagger, letting both weapons fall bloody to the ground before her. Her eyes found Jillian lying in the dust quite dead. A terrible grin crossed her bloodstained lips, exposing crimson teeth beneath. Her wounds would have killed her, had she been entirely human. Fortunately she was now much more.
Belial groaned within the girl, laughing at his victory. The old wraith dancer had fought unexpectedly well. But the battle with her former master had been too much for her frail form to endure. Shalindra stepped forward, her numerous broken bones grinding within her. Blood still poured from the wounds down the front of her robes.
She paused, scanning the bewildered crowd as Belial’s power bound her fractures, healed her battered internal organs and sealed up her lacerations. After a moment, she smiled triumphantly, thrusting the head of the staff into the air.
“You hav
e seen my power,” she proclaimed. “Who will join me?”
Many more than might have been expected raised their fists high into the air, calling out “death to Ezekiah!” Those that opposed her cowered. As the chanting increased, they retreated as far as possible from the horde ready now to give their lives for Belial’s cause.
STORM FRONT
Tobias stood upon Highborn, looking down upon the vast city of Ellis nestled against the foot of the mountain. The river which began in these hills made its serpentine course down toward the valley far in the distance. Much farther away, Tobias saw the blue sea meeting the coast where Haven stood. He missed his friends there. Ezekiah was now dead. Though no human being had told him it was so, he knew.
Little did anyone realize that the regency was now over and that the King of Kings would soon come to take possession of a world that rightfully belonged to him. Many plans were in progress, among men, but Elithias’s purposes would come to pass regardless.
Tobias looked skyward to the roiling thunderhead encircling the mountain top above. “My lord, thy will be done.”
A voice resonating from every rock and tree and blade of grass replied to him. “My will shall be done. It is time for you to fulfill your course.”
As Tobias felt the first heavy drops of the downpour about to be unleashed, he looked once again toward the city of Ellis and the great dam that Marco had built long ago in order to control the Highborn River. “Vanity of vanities,” he said.
At once he was lifted up from the ledge of rock where he had perched, waiting. Unseen hands carried him faster than he could comprehend toward the distant seacoast and the city set there where he would deliver his message.
