by Devon Vesper
The morning dawned bright and clear and cold. Valis stared at the sky, his heart heavy but hopeful as hundreds of men and women checked their geared horses, making sure they had everything. Valis had already checked his and Tavros’. Twice. He’d already been to the Kalutakeni camp, and they were packed and ready to go, their caravan wagons locked up and moved into tight rows to make a smaller dent on the shore for when winter came, and space might be needed. The mercenaries had mounted up not long before and now waited outside the city along the banks with the Kalutakeni.
Everything was ready, and Valis wanted to remember this moment forever. No matter the promises he had made to everyone, this might be the last time he saw Cadoras. It might be the last he saw of the only home he had ever known, the only place he had ever felt safe and loved.
When he glanced back at the monastery, hordes of people stood around hugging their friends and family, wishing them well, or waving to those already ahorse with tears in their eyes and shouting wishes for their swift return.
Valis had never seen the city so busy and full of people except for the night of the Autumn Festival, and it seemed the entire city had come to see them off, not just the monastery.
“Valis!”
Valis turned toward where he heard his name and his eyes widened. Aryn ran toward him, still in his prison uniform and with a prison blanket wrapped around his shoulders in place of a winter cloak. Two guards strode after him, though at a slower pace followed by Sister Qisryn. Aryn launched himself into Valis’s arms and clung to his neck. “Come home safe.”
“Since he’s progressed so far, I asked the Duty Captain to remand him to my care for the day,” Sister Qisryn explained when she caught up. “He has earned this.”
“Thank you, Sister.”
She leaned in and squeezed his shoulder. “Be safe. I expect your mission to be a success, young man.”
“I promise.”
He hugged Aryn tighter, and something inside himself, a precognitive feeling that tugged at him made him press his hand to Aryn’s back. Magic flooded through him, and he unlocked Aryn’s magical reserve, allowing it to start regenerating. Aryn’s gasp against his neck told Valis he was successful.
“Why did you do that?” Aryn asked in a strained voice. “Why?”
“Because Phaerith demanded it,” Valis whispered. “And I will always obey.”
The boy shook in his arms and he pulled back. “I won’t let either of you down, Valis. Never again.”
“I know you won’t.” Valis motioned back toward the guards. “Go on and say goodbye to the others so they can get you back inside. It’s freezing out here.” He bent down and picked up the blanket, wrapping it around Aryn’s shoulders. “Be good and stick with your therapy.”
Rising on his toes, Aryn kissed Valis’s cheek with a soft, “Promise,” and ran after his brother.
“I have something for you, Valis.” Brother Bachris stepped forward into the space Aryn had just vacated and held out a small paper sack. “To remind you of home.”
Valis opened the bag and looked in but saw tons of little paper-wrapped sachets. But the smell was wonderful, spicy and sweet.
“The spices the kitchen puts into the spiced milk you guzzle at every meal,” the Patron Priest explained. “The instructions on how to mix them are inside with the spices.” He shrugged and sighed. “It may not last you the whole journey, but if you use it sparingly…”
“It’s perfect, Brother Bachris,” Valis said. He coughed, clearing his throat and turned to stuff the bag in his already overfull saddlebags. “Thank you. I was wondering how I was going to live without it.”
The old man laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I figured. Now, I must get back inside. This frigid weather does mean things to an old man’s bones. Be well, Valis.”
“You, too.”
The stream of people seemed never ending. Everyone he had ever known or met who wasn’t part of the army leaving with him came to say their goodbyes and wish him luck. It had started off a welcome thing, with just his closest friends, but then it started to get overwhelming.
“Deep breaths, Valis,” Thyran said.
Valis almost jumped out of his skin. Thyran had appeared from thin air, having apparently phased before him. Clutching at his heart, Valis gasped, “Don’t do that!”
The August Patriarch laughed and pulled him into a tight hug. “My apologies. I could not get through the throng of people, and I saw my opportunity.”
He pulled back and held Valis at arm’s length. “Remember what I told you. Tell no one.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And contact me for anything, and with any news, whether via telepathy or scry.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And stay warm.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you have your pocket watch?”
Valis laughed. “Yes, sir.”
Thyran sighed. “And come home safe, Grand Master. That is an order.”
Valis stood straighter and grinned. “Yes, sir.”
“Now…” Thyran looked distinctly uncomfortable as he stared at the ground. He sighed. “I have not had to say goodbye to anyone I truly cared for in so long, I forgot how heartbreaking it is.”
Valis smiled and squeezed his biceps. “It isn’t ‘goodbye,’ Thyran. It’s ‘until we meet again.’ I’ll be home. Have as much faith in me as I’ve had in you since we met.”
He smiled a little at that and looked up from the ground. “I will endeavor to do so.” Letting out another sigh, Thyran snatched Valis into a fierce hug and pulled away. “Safe journey. I expect a report soon.”
“Of course.”
When Thyran turned and left, Valis noticed that the crowd was hanging back, and that meant it was time for them to leave. He hauled himself into his saddle and adjusted his winter cloak, then his gauntlets before grabbing his reins from the handler. He took one last look at his home, saying a prayer to Sovras for their safe return, and guided his horse around, pointing them toward the gates.
As he led his army out of Cadoras and across the lake, he gazed back at the high walls that protected his home. If he committed the place to memory, he felt he might just make it back.
“You okay?”
He glanced to his side and smiled at Tavros. “Yeah. Just memorizing home.”
Tavros looked over his shoulder at the wall and sighed. “I get it. But we’ll be back.”
“Yes. We will.”
Once the last of their men had crossed the lake and everyone was in formation, Valis urged Rasera into a canter. He wanted to give his horse his head, let him gallop until nightfall, knowing that Rasera could and would. Most likely happily, too. But he needed to keep their numbers tight, keep everyone together, and keep their horses fresh.
Because in the journey ahead, he had no idea what they would run into. And he had no idea how long their journey would be. Endless miles separated him from his father. Snow would come all too soon. And Valis was new at commanding so many.
He had to be careful.
He had to stay safe.
But most of all, he had to come home.
“Yes,” he whispered to himself again. “We will.”
To Be Continued in Anchors…
Anchors
Chapter One
Two weeks of travel had Valis Bakor and his army of Aesriphos and laymen warriors almost to the edge of Arlvor. They moved at a quick and steady pace for as large as their numbers were. Valis glanced behind him. As autumn wore on, the days became shorter, colder, and they traveled well past dark, using the stars as their guide. Valis turned in his saddle and lifted his voice to be heard as far as possible. “Make camp!”
The order echoed down the line of soldiers as one person passed it on to those farther back. Valis swung down off his horse as everyone gathered around. They kept their tents in tight quarters each night so that Valis wouldn’t be too taxed by making the giant shield over their camp.
Once everyone was sit
uated and the men and women started moving their horses to herd formation and relieving them of their burdens and tack, Valis scanned the area using mage lights to see in the darkness. He had to give them and their horses enough room to move, but still keep it tight enough that he wouldn’t expend too much energy. Though, he smirked at himself. He had so much power swirling within him that he doubted it would matter. His mentor and friend, Thyran, had seen to that and every priest and Aesriphos not on this mission with him had poured every bit of magic they could spare into his shield, expanding his personal reserves exponentially until Valis felt invincible.
Still, Valis wanted to use his magic sparingly, keep himself fresh for the trials to come. And when he found the edge of where the shield should rest, Valis strode toward it and touched the ground, focusing his intent on creating an invisible sphere around their camp. He added permanence, invisibility, and soundproofing in a way that they could hear what happened outside, but none could hear them, and impermeability before breaking the spell off from himself so it wouldn’t continue draining him.
When he went back to his horse, Rasera, he patted the black beast’s neck and spoke softly to him as he removed his burdens. Tavros had already started setting up their tent. With most of their forces being Aesriphos, bringing their husbands and wives in the Order with them, most people shared tents. It made camp half as big as it would normally have to be. It also made it easier on their horses. Tavros’s horse carried the tent while Rasera carried both their bedrolls.
Everything went along with military precision. Soon the camp filled with the scents of cooking food, and Valis ducked into his tent to scry as he did nightly. With a lamp hung from the support beam in the tent, Valis had just enough light to see by, but it was dim enough to not cast glaring reflections on the smooth, shiny metal of the gold pocket watch Thyran had given him for his twenty-first birth anniversary.
With a deep breath to calm his aching heart, Valis pressed the knob on the pocket watch to release the cover and turned it so he could stare at the smooth golden surface inside instead of the watch, itself. He focused his intent on his father. This rescue mission was for nothing if Darolen wasn’t still alive.
He had to be alive. Otherwise, Valis had fought his friend, bested the Grand Master Aesriphos, and became the new one for nothing.
Sighing, Valis refocused his thoughts and intent, clearing his mind of everything else and stared into the reflective watch cover. Images started to swirl immediately. The image went black as Valis had anticipated since Darolen was kept in a cell without a lamp or windows. His heart almost stopped when he heard nothing. Then, after a few tense moments, he heard Darolen’s hacking cough. He pulled in a rattling, wheezed breath and let out another cough that sounded wetter than before, and Valis cringed. It sounded like Darolen’s chest infection was getting worse, probably from the fact that his cell was cleaned of his refuse so rarely, and he was forced to sit in his own waste. There was probably mold and fungi everywhere, and Valis felt sick for him.
Valis watched the blackness for a long moment before refocusing to a two-way scry, using Darolen’s refuse as the medium on his side, since it was the only reflective surface Valis knew about. “Father,” he whispered. “I’m coming.”
“Valis?”
“Yes. We’re on our way. Take heart.”
“My son…”
“Listen,” Valis stressed. “I won’t contact you again until I get there. But I wanted to assure you that Papa is doing well. Getting stronger. And I am coming. Tavros and I have an entire army of six-hundred and sixteen souls at our command, and we’re coming to bring you home.”
“So many…” Darolen’s voice was barely a ghost of a whisper. “Valis…”
“It may be months before I contact you again,” Valis said. “Just don’t lose hope. We are coming. Do what you must to survive.”
“I will.”
“I love you. And I will be with you as soon as I can.”
“I love you, too, my son.”
Before Valis could abort the scry, the darkness swirled away. Valis’s heart lurched. Had they been discovered? Had someone caught their scry and tampered with it somehow? Would they punish Darolen for it?
His queasy stomach turned to ice in the next breath. When the swirling stopped, Valis gasped and nearly dropped the pocket watch. Blood and bone showed through the golden reflection. Then he recognized the voices of Aesriphos.
“Secure the area. Contact Thyran to let him know that Ortima has been defeated and we’re coming home.”
How did they get to Evakis so fast? Did they ride that hard? It had only been weeks! Then he remembered that each team had a person in it who had the translocation trait, and Valis grinned. That’s rather ingenious. They could have phased to a town nearby that they had been to before. Interesting. Would that actually work? Or is this scry showing a future event?
The image flashed again, and it looked like the second team had also succeeded, having killed Carnis Doveran. When the image flashed, Valis’s stomach pitted so hard he gagged. It showed four of the six Aesriphos who went after Angas Braywar dead in a heap of armor and hair. The two still alive were tied to a pole, their heads hanging down as if they both had been knocked unconscious, blood dripping from their temples.
Then it flashed again, showing all six alive and healthy, riding at a steady pace toward their destination in Ges.
Valis barely dismissed the scry before he snapped the pocket watch closed and bolted from the tent.
“Valis, what’s wrong?” Tavros strode toward him, worry in his clear gray eyes, his shaggy black hair ruffling in the cold breeze. “Is everything okay?”
“We need to call a meeting of the reliquary guards and the leaders.”
“On it.”
Tavros strode away, calling orders while Valis went to get the map of Peralea that Thyran had given him before he left. He took it over to one of the mage lights and carefully unrolled it, checking their position outside one of the nearby cities and where he knew the Braywar Estate to be on the southern border of Ges and Tonemor. It wouldn’t take them too far out of their way. But he sighed. It would add precious time to their journey, heading more southeast than their current course.
He went back to his tent for his saddlebags and dug around until he found a pencil. He had to get everything right in his mind, and that meant getting it right on paper. If they headed to Setira city, near the edge of Arlvor and the juncture of Chytan and Aspar, they could refresh their supplies, then head to Venoz City in Ges. It followed the river, which was a necessity, but would take more time than going directly.
Glancing over his shoulder at the neat rows of tents, he grimaced. With this many men and women to feed, they needed a constant supply of fresh water more than they needed a direct route. With that in mind, he turned back around and penciled in their route changes.
“The leaders and reliquary guards are assembled,” Tavros said from behind him. “Everyone is waiting.”
“Thanks.”
He rolled the map back up and tucked the pencil behind his ear as he headed toward the fire, pausing to steal a kiss from his husband. “Really. Thanks, Tav. I mean it.” Tavros had been nothing but supportive since the incident with Aryn, always by Valis’s side, and always willing to do whatever Valis asked if it would make their lives or their mission easier.
“What is it, Grand Master?” Shyvus looked at Valis expectantly. While Valis was relieved that some of the reliquary guards delegated to his mission were his closer friends, Shyvus was a handful and a half.
“If I have to tell you one more time,” Valis growled. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Shyvus, if we’re overheard, they’re going to hear ‘Grand Master,’ and immediately go after me. And right now, I’m our only element of surprise, because it’s going to be hard to miss us coming.”
The man laughed, his blond hair falling in his eyes. He brushed it back. “I know. And, you can tell me until you’re blue in the face, Valis. Bu
t I’m going to rib you about it until the day we die when we’re safe like this. And we can see for leagues in each direction with this moon, so you know we’re not going to be overheard, even if you didn’t soundproof the shield around the camp.”
Valis let out a sigh and shook his head. The man was insufferable, but he was genuine and knew what he was doing out here better than Valis did. But he wasn’t infallible. And Valis had never tested the soundproofing of his shield, so he wanted to be as careful as possible.
“You know I can create a shield to make myself invisible, and you also know that Qos adherents know how to do the same thing.” He gave his friend a hard stare. “They could be anywhere, and we would never know because we wouldn’t see them until we were already in their trap.”
Shyvus gave him a shit-eating grin. “Not true. You would know. Or have you thought we didn’t realize you can feel the magic around you, and that that’s how you beat us so soundly most of the time? You know what spells we’re casting before we do.”
He couldn’t help but huff a tired laugh. Shyvus was right. Valis could feel the spells they were casting. That’s partly how he managed to beat the two Grand Master Aesriphos and relieve them of their titles.
Letting the matter drop, Valis straightened his spine and glanced around at everyone present. “I scried after my father, as I do every night, but this time, my scry was interrupted. Whether it was from Thyran, or directly from Sovras, himself, I received news that two of the anchor teams were or will be successful—”
Cheers erupted from the ranks, and Valis cringed, nearly deafened by the clamor. He lifted a hand to shut them up, and when they all settled down, he went on. “They were or will be successful, but the team going after Angas Braywar are not going to be. We’re changing course to meet them, hopefully before the slaughter I saw.”
“How do you know they aren’t already dead?” Phalin asked. “They—”
Valis shook his head. “I saw the future first, the most likely outcome if they go in alone. Then I saw them as they are now, still traveling toward their target.”
