The Order of the Trident: Speculum (Eldarlands Book 2)

by Samuel Rikard

The man laughed at his taunt. He was already defeated, he just didn't know it yet. Pointing his palms together, fingers nearly touching, he summoned the energies inside himself. A ball of flame formed between his hands growing in size the more he pulled them apart. Bringing his hands overhead he flung them forward, launching the torso-sized fireball at his target.

  Ravion watched the flaming sphere fly toward him. He didn't have the agility to dodge it currently. He was too weak to run. Out of options, he did the only thing he could. Side stepping as much as he could he twisted, letting the flame graze him. He could smell the heat burning into his clothes, but to his surprise it didn't burn. The ball flew past, narrowly brushing him upper body and face. It exploded behind him engulfing one of the dilapidated wagons lining the road. Marching as quickly as he dared toward the man, he watched him summon another fireball.

  “You won’t be so lucky this time!” Flinging the newly formed ball, he watched in anticipation.

  Ravion continued forward. There was no way he could dodge this one. He was too close. Holding his breath he felt the flame hit him head on. His clothes burst into flame, warming him in the chilly morning air. It felt good, as if it was burning away his weakness. Closing his eyes he felt the flame wrap around him, shrouding him in its comfortable heat. He could feel the aura of his people. It felt brighter, stronger, as if it was absorbing the magic of the spell and strengthening him. The warming energy reached his core, burning away the illness within him.

  The fireball crashed into him, exploding upon his chest. Instead of burning him to a cinder it twisted and fell apart, as if he'd somehow dispelled it after it had detonated. He stared dumfounded at his opponent. How'd he do that? If fire can't hurt him, I'll have to use something else!

  The townspeople came running, hearing the commotion. They crowded around the pair, hoping to get the best show. Packed shoulder to shoulder they watched the spectacle, cheering for their unarmed savior. He was out matched in every way, yet he continued onward. If he could survive this final day he'd be their new lord. Such a prospect was both reassuring and frightening. They'd been unregulated so long, how much of their lives would change? Yet it was exciting to witness the trials first hand.

  A fair amount of his dexterity returned, Ravion held his pace, hoping to used it sparingly. He didn't know exactly what had made him feel better, and there was no sense in wasting the second wind. “You're running out of time. When I reach you, this will be over.” Truthfully, he didn't want to hurt him. He had no quarrel with him, aside from his attempted murder, but that was a technicality. It seemed most people wanted to kill him these days. But he wouldn't allow the man to stop him. If it came to it, he'd do whatever he had to in order to survive.

  The man flung his hands forward letting his magics loose. A dark liquid appeared on the ground beneath Ravion's feet. He watched him slide around in the syrup-like substance, but he didn't fall. It wasn't completely wasted though. It slowed him down, which meant he had more time to kill him.

  Ravion caught himself. The thick oil beneath his feet felt akin to walking on glossy ice with hardened soles. Each step he had to balance himself or risk falling. At least it didn't seem to stick to him. That was good in the fact that he wouldn't have to clean it off his boots.

  Reacting on impulse the mage formed another fireball. This one didn't have to be huge or special. Launching it into the grease, he watched it ignite with ease. The flame spread like wildfire engulfing the entire area in a burning magical heat.

  The flames jumped up reaching chest height. Ravion felt the wind tear through the holes in his clothes. Much more of this and he'd have to finish this fight naked. He was fortunate that the heat didn't bother him. It was a welcome surprise. Carefully making his way through the flaming oil he stepped onto the dirt patting the charred holes in his clothes, hoping to save them a bit longer. The man was a few steps away. “This is your last chance. You'd better not mess up.”

  “You arrogant prick!” Closing his eyes the mage forced every ounce of will into his attack. He had to ignore the approaching man. Any distraction would take away from the full effect of his spell. He could feel the torrent of magical energies flowing around him. Just a bit longer and he'd have his revenge.

  Ravion watched the dark power swirl around his opponent. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he knew it wasn't good. It was as if the world around the man was being destroyed. The air darkened and the ground cracked, ripping itself free. The jagged chunks crumbled, disappearing into the void. Only the man, at its center, could be seen. The tear in reality was growing ever closer to him swallowing everything in its wake. “You're losing control! Abandon your spell or it's going to kill you!”

  He heard the words echo in his mind. Don't listen to him. He's trying to distract you. Kill him. Claim justice for all you've lost! Pressing on he felt the energies reach their full potential. He was almighty. Nothing could stop him now. Opening his eyes fear enveloped him. The dark energies continued to grow, pulling at him. What have I done?

  Ravion backed away. The power was unstable, threatening to devour everything around it. He had to do something. If it continued, there was no telling how much damage it would cause. Looking around he spotted one of the rail posts of the broken fence lying in the dirt beside him. Snatching up the rough cut lumber he fed it into the void, keeping hold on the end. He could feel the current drawing it toward the center. “Put aside your anger and grab hold. It's going to kill you!”

  “Then I'll take you with me!” Grabbing the rail the mage yanked, pulling the unarmed man into the sundered darkness. Feeling it give, he lost his balance and tumbled into the tear. His body was ripped apart and gone before he had time to scream.

  Ravion felt the draw pulling him further into the rift. He had nothing to grab hold of. Nothing to stop himself. Surrounded by shadow, he felt a familiar presence. A broken light appeared in the heart. The closer it moved, the brighter it got, much the same way his aura reacted to the magical flame. “Kane?”

  “You can't be here. You have to find a way to get me out!” The armored warrior stepped into view. He looked stronger than ever, standing proud in the twisting energies. They wrapped around him, licking the glowing light.

  Ravion felt the pull soften, though it was far from gone. “How'd you get here?”

  “We don't have time to discuss that. I'm trapped on the other side. I tried to escape, but he pushed me back down. Get out of here and save me!”

  Looking down at his aura it pulsed, drawing in the shadow. He could see a ring of normality forming around him. “I need to absorb it!” Focusing on himself he felt the power rush through, though it wasn't as he'd grown accustomed to. This was different. This was fueling him. It was making him stronger. Opening his eyes he watched the rift fade, sealing Kane inside. The current subsided and the darkness disappeared revealing a large ring of barren earth where grass had been.

  Cheers reached his ears, the unharmed spectators singing their praise. “Ravion! Ravion! Ravion!”

  Taking a deep breath he let out a sigh of relief. Let's just hope no more show up today! Looking around a familiar face greeted him. The man stepped toward him, silently parting the mob of excited spectators. His white and purple robes looked clean as ever, moving as if they defied the winds. “Well done, Ravion.”

  The exhausted dreuslayer dropped to his knee, locking sight on the ground in front of him. “Baron Perrimen, you honor me with your presence. If you're here to challenge, you know as well as I that I would never fight you, even in friendly competition.”

  Perrimen placed his hand on the kneeling man’s shoulder staring down at the back of his head, lost in the lengthened, red hair. “Find your feet, Ravion. I’m not here for competition, nor am I the baron. You know I've not held that role for a very long time.”

  The young dalari stood looking upon his friend. “Then why, may I ask, are you here?”

  The aged, yet youthful wizard smiled. His voice echoed louder around them as if magicall
y amplified for all of Krondar to hear. “This man has fought valiantly, would you say?”

  The crowd erupted in cheers of agreement and praise.

  “He’s bested every opponent that’s had the courage to face him!”

  Again the citizens erupted in agreement.

  “The Rite of Godrick has long been seen as the supreme law of Krondar. As a nation of strength, so too should you be led by strength. I believe I speak for all of us when I say that this man has shown us the essence of strength, not just of muscle, but of mind as well. The rite states seven days of trial. And this man has survived to his seventh. So I ask you, fair people of Krondar, will you allow this man to be your lord? A fair and strong man in every sense of the word. Will you allow this man the honor of standing at the head of your ranks? To guide, direct, and watch over you. Will you allow him the privilege to call Krondar his home, a land where he can build and, gods willing, raise a family for generations to come?”

  The roar was deafening. The very ground shook from their chants of agreement.

  “As a citizen of this harsh, yet fair land, and former Baron of Dalmoura, would you allow me the privilege and authority to label this man Lord of Krondar?”

  Everything from bread to coin rained from the sky, showering the city in tribute of the naming. Never before had they seen one take the throne. One who had the ability to walk through magic unscathed meant a strong ruler who would see them to victory. For the first time in their lives they saw hope. Hope meant a greater life than simple survival.

  “Ravion Santail, I ask that you take a knee!”

  The dreuslayer obeyed finding it amusing that moments before he was asked to stand.

  Perrimen extended his hand letting the energies of the world around him twist into a faint blue light. They twisted over one another, growing out and solidifying. In the blink of an eye an elegant longsword, etched in the most fantastic looking runes, rested in his hand outstretched above the kneeling man. “By the laws of this land and the citizens that inhabit it, I name you Lord of Krondar, Master of Barbarians!” Tapping his shoulder with the ethereal blade he alternated to the other, ceremoniously dubbing the man before him.

  The crowd went wild at the naming of their new leader. Many broke from the group to begin preparations for a grand festival. People fought for the right to host the events arguing over the most trivial of details.

  The well-dressed wizard waved his hand, dismissing the weapon. A silver crown with a red leather lining took its place. “Please rise, My Lord.”

  Ravion stood, feeling the felt lined crown fall into place atop his head. A sense of pride washed over him. He watched the flock rush toward him, begging to drape their finest garb over his ruined clothes.

  Perrimen turned toward the scattered union. “My people; eat, drink, be merry. Your lord has finally presented himself!”

  Several large men carried a thick, wooden throne from one of the buildings. Setting it down a few steps from their lord they took position awaiting his word, desire heavy on their faces.

  Ravion looked over the throne. It was rough and unforgiving much like the land it resided over, but it would serve its purpose. Marching toward the seat he spun around and claimed it. Despite its rugged appearance, it was surprisingly comfortable. He didn’t intend to get used to it. The position was an honor he'd gladly serve, but standing on ceremony alone was a useless tactic. He was not going to be a ruler of words. He'd lead by example and be a ruler of actions.

  Perrimen approached the throne giving a respectful bow. “My Lord, Ra’dulen. I bring a gift for your naming.” He reached into his over-sized sleeve, retrieving a finely crafted wooden box. It was long and slender, engraved across the seams by hundreds of tiny runes.

  Ravion stared blankly at the mention of the name. No one's called me that since I was a boy. “My Lord, you’ve extended me enough gifts this day. I fear another may push the boundaries of overcompensation.” The sudden lack of ambient noise caught his attention. He glanced around, realizing the townspeople were frozen in place, mid-action. Returning his attention to the wizard, he noted only himself and the man remained free. “I've seen such magics only once before. You've learned much in your absence.”

  Perrimen didn't say a word. Offering the narrow box he gestured for the man to take it. “That statement holds more truth than you'll ever know. As for this box, let me rephrase. What remains inside is not so much a gift as it is a curse. You're one of a very select few I can trust to keep such an object. It will call to you. It will want to twist you. You must not let it. You must keep it safe, for if word of its existence spreads others will seek it.”

  Ravion took the container staring at the runes. Had he not recognized the etchings he would have though them little more than decoration. “It’s written in Eldar?” Silence answering him he glanced up, seeing the evaporating orange glow. Silently reading the scripture the words of the ancient language returned to him. Five there were. Five there shall always be. Let none rise above. But should they, flee! The box sprung open revealing a thin, wavy blade of black and purple. Ravion closed the box, stuffing it beneath the layers of fur clinging to his shoulders.

  The world around him broke its hold. The townsfolk returned to their tasks unaware of their lost moments.

  Chapter X

  Once Lost

  The crude boat glided gently along the top of the murky, green water. Krenin plunged the pole into the soft bottom pushing himself further along, his eyes searching the surrounding forest. He couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched. Though he hadn't seen any sign of company. Hoping it remained that way he pressed again, feeling the boat lunge forward each time. He wasn't sure if his sash would save him if the alfar mistook him for one of the hearty people of the north. He couldn't recall how long he'd been gone. Time stood still in the arena, though the seasons had changed since he'd last been in the wondrous forest of Evinwood. It remained beautiful, but there was an unsettling dreariness he couldn't shake. It was as if the trees were less inviting than he remembered from his last visit.

  Ahead a large tree had fallen, blocking off the wide waterway. Several smaller limbs had collected against it, forming a barrier across the surface. Guiding the boat to the shore, Krenin stepped onto land for the first time since he'd found the river. He'd traveled for nearly three days following the shore before he'd found the landing. Had it not been for word of his victory against the dragonkin he had no doubt the orcs would have parted with the small punt. As it were, reputation and coin opened more doors than he could ever know. For the first time, as far as he knew, a half-orc was revered among their kind. And the name just happened to be his own.

  Pulling the wooden device onto shore he searched for an area to cross. The thick tree, even in its current state, had to be at least forty foot tall and there was no telling how much of it was buried in the dirt. Glancing at the debris it appeared to have recently fallen. He didn't recall any such blockage when the orcs brought him this route, gods knew how long ago. The dirt around the impact site hadn't sprouted grass yet. He couldn't help but feel it was an intentional dam. The tree appeared strong, aside from the areas the bark had been ripped away during the fall. It was as if someone simply cut it down to block the river pass, greatly delaying travel and offering several ambush points along the way. Of course he was no expert on trees, or anything else for that matter. There just seemed to be something fabricated about this. It seemed too intentional and planned.

  Sighing heavily he pressed his foot against the flat rim of the boat, stepping down hard. The curved bottom edge rolled, lifting the square shaped nose into the air. Krenin grabbed the rope runs along the sides and pushed his arms through them, slinging the small punt onto his back like a shell. Securing the pole he pressed it into the ground and made his way inland, hoping to find a place to cross.

  He walked for what felt like hours, unable to find the slightest low point. He'd considered trying to climb over, but he'd spend more time cutting foot holes
than it'd take him to reach the end. This had to be the largest tree this forest had to offer and he hadn't even found the limbs yet. Abandoning his search he spun around, searching the dense woodland. “I know you're here, somewhere. I am Krenin of Marbayne. As ally to your people, I ask for help. Show me where to cross.”

  A smooth, elegant voice echoed from the trees. It had a familiar tone to it, yet he couldn't place where he'd heard it before. They all kind of sounded and looked the same to him. “All you had to do was ask. We would have gladly shown you the path, hours ago. After all, maintaining our allegiance with the order is of the utmost importance, now more so than ever. Even if it is to help a half-breed such as you.” The tone shifted to distaste toward the end.

  Krenin watched a band of alfar step into view. He didn't recognize the face, but the armor danced into his memory. This was the alfar that he'd met with Malakai. The black leather scaled weren't an easy detail to forget. “So you show me way across?”

  Jaklus smiled. “Not exactly. Your build is incapable of keeping up with us and I don't have the time to wait for you.”

  “But you have time to watch me for hours?”

  “Details.” The myrkalfar captain dismissively waved the words away, continuing on. “Your friend Ravion has made quite the name for himself. And in doing so has strengthened our borders. Your border wardens have expanded their territory, and forced the orc pigs into our traps. The few that have escaped traveled east into the wilds of Vale. For the first time since the orc wars ended our borders are secure on the south face, and your friend had single handedly been responsible for that. That alone is why I'm going to help you.”

  “So Ravion secure the borders? Good for him. Glad he doing something in my absence.” Krenin smiled, feeling his lips stretch around his small tusks. He watched the alfar captain nod to one of the others. He was dressed differently. Less armored and seemingly unarmed. That was a strange concept, though he'd seen such ignorance before. The alfar chanted some weird words and an orange glow wrapped around him. It expanded, swallowing the half orc. Krenin felt his stomach churn as if his insides were being twisted. The forest disappeared from sight and was replaced by an open field on the outskirts of a fairly large city. He recognized it at once. This was Fender's Spear. Though it wasn't as run down as it had been the last time he visited. The buildings were patched and clean. The wood planks along the siding had been secured or replaced. For the first time in as long as he could recall the city was clean. The broken wagons were gone. Actual shops and vendor stands were in their place. It was a city to be proud of.