Shades of Truth: Path of the Wielders 2

by Cleave Bourbon

  “I do understand it. I have always been fascinated by it. I feel a pull to it within my soul.”

  “Morgoran has foreseen this; he spoke of you over one hundred years ago. He said you were the blood of the ancient kings,” Asterial said amusingly between puffs of smoke.

  “Me? How is that possible?”

  “How is anything possible? It just is,” Asterial stated bluntly. “If you descend from Marella Arden, then it is true because she was a princess and heir of a long line of kings.”

  Dicarion eyed the young apprentice. “Do you know what you are getting yourself into, boy?”

  “No, not really,” Kaxen replied stoically. Kaxen was not about to give the two wielders an opening.

  “Are there any questions you wish to ask us while you have the chance?” Asterial asked.

  Kaxen decided to ask the obvious. “Who is the more powerful, you or Dicarion?”

  Asterial laughed at the question, which surprised Kaxen. “Power is in the eyes of the beholder, each to his own gifts. Dicarion is a different kind of wielder than I.”

  “Who can cast the most powerful spells then?”

  Asterial puffed his pipe. “Surely you can think of better questions to ask than these.”

  “No, not really, I want to know.”

  Dicarion also puffed out a billow of white smoke. “I will answer the boy, Asterial. The most powerful spell is blackfire. It is not only the most powerful and the most destructive but also the most costly to cast.”

  Kaxen was confused. “The most costly? How does it cost you?”

  Dicarion grinned. “Essence, my boy, all magic uses essence, and blackfire draws more than the land can withstand. You see, not only does it drain all the essence around you to cast, but if it doesn’t find enough essence in its surroundings, it will use the essence of the caster and his nearest companions. Friend or foe, it doesn’t distinguish between the two.”

  “What happens if it uses the life essence of the caster?”

  “If the caster is skilled enough in its use, it will only drain him, and then he is vulnerable. If he is not skilled, it will put him in a deep sleep, a sleep of the dead. Sometimes the caster will awaken and sometimes he dies. If the caster has no skill, the blackfire will kill him as soon as he tries to use it. I would suggest that you never try to use it at all.”

  “What does blackfire do exactly?” Kaxen asked.

  “Some things are best left to the imagination,” Dicarion answered. “Just don’t take it lightly and do not try it.”

  Asterial nodded in agreement. “Enough about the blackfire. What is on your mind, Kaxen?” Asterial asked sharply.

  “I just wanted to know…” A strange noise behind him interrupted his train of thought. “Did you hear that?”

  Dicarion sat up alert. “It came from behind Kaxen, in the tent.”

  Asterial sat back, puffing on his pipe. “It’s probably just Parlane and the Defenders returning from patrol, or Gondrial playing tricks again.”

  Kaxen stood up from the fire and slowly stalked around his tent, then stopped.

  “Be careful, boy, it could be a wild animal,” Asterial cautioned.

  Dicarion scoffed. “In the Sacred Land? I don’t think so.”

  Asterial did not reply, instead, he puffed his pipe again. He winked at Dicarion who nodded back at him.

  “Why don’t you go and find out what it is, boy,” Dicarion said. “We are both right here to help if need be.”

  Kaxen reached the rear of his tent. He realized the dead forest beyond had become quite ominous as the cloak of night descended upon the land. The leafless branches reached into the dimly lit sky like twisted arms pleading to a silent god for redemption. The moon was still low and orange in the sky as low clouds began to roll in above the trees. A feeling of dread welled up in him as Kaxen searched for the source of the noise behind his tent. The sound occurred again, and Kaxen reached out with his mind to it. Immediately, Kaxen reeled his mind back. He had touched the core of evil. His senses burned, and his nose began to run red with blood. Dizzily he stumbled back to the fire where Asterial and Dicarion jumped to his aid.

  “Something is out there, something bad,” Kaxen said, still feeling dizzy.

  Asterial looked to the direction Kaxen had indicated and then turned back to Dicarion. “That’s not what I had planned! Something really is out there. Do you feel that Dicarion?” he asked.

  Dicarion handed Kaxen a white cloth for his bleeding nose. “I do now. Something is indeed wrong, and I think the Defenders have been ambushed.”

  “I feel it as well. Get rid of that fire before we are next,” Asterial said. “I’m sorry my boy, I had a low essence incantation ready for you to explore behind the tent, but I have apparently drawn something else to us by constructing it.”

  “What is it?” Kaxen asked.

  Dicarion flinched. “I can’t say. Something stirs in the dark of the forest though.”

  Kaxen shook his head to clear it. “What of Rennon and Gondrial?”

  Asterial extinguished the fire by kicking dirt over it. “Gondrial can take care of himself.”

  Dicarion hunched down low beside Kaxen’s tent and pointed into the forest. “There, I see movement.”

  Kaxen squinted in the darkness and saw something white fluoresce between the trees. It glided along as a boat on a clear pond, trailing white mist behind it. “What is it?”

  “An abomination,” Dicarion said. “Creations of a twisted mind bent on destruction. Toborne used them as generals for his cursed army. Clerics of the War of the Oracle defeated them at great cost of life, and the mindwielders were completely decimated by them. They are called Shades.”

  Asterial said a curse under his breath. “I thought their kind had been exterminated by the mindwielders.”

  “Mindwielders?” Kaxen asked. “What is a mindwielder?”

  Asterial looked as if he had eaten something sour, and Kaxen realized he had not intended to bring them up in the first place. Asterial shook his head and pursed his lips irritably. “They were the forbearers of what you call wild magic. Their art was lost when the last one died on the battlefield. No one knows how their art works now.” He paused and then sighed, “Except Dicarion, he is the last true mindwielder. I wasn’t going to tell you, but you need to know. He can get rid of the shade.”

  A sudden revelation struck Kaxen. “So that is what Morgoran meant when he told Rennon to remember it. He was talking of the wild magic.”

  “Most likely,” Dicarion agreed. “It’s the reason I came along. If I can get him to accept it, I can teach him how to use it.”

  “I wouldn’t hold your breath. He’s stubborn when it comes to magic. We were taught all our lives to fear and hate it. We were taught it was evil.” Kaxen said.

  Asterial put his hand up. “That’s enough talk. I have not seen a Shade since the War of the Oracle. You must be mistaken, Dicarion.”

  Dicarion clenched his teeth. “We have underestimated Malanor and his plans since the beginning. He has outsmarted us, and he has remained one step ahead of us on every turn.”

  Asterial sighed. “We need to find Gondrial and Rennon and head for the monastery. We cannot afford rest now.”

  “Where did Asrion go?” Kaxen asked urgently.

  Dicarion glanced around in the darkness. “He was praying just outside the camp to the west last time I saw him.”

  “Go and get him, Dicarion. If there are Shades out there they will sense him first of all of us and come for him,” Asterial commanded.

  “Why Asrion first?” Kaxen questioned.

  “Because he is a cleric of the Goddess of Life, and Shades are creatures of death. They would sense and hate him the most of all of us. He can also channel the power of his goddess and dispatch it.” Dicarion headed out of the camp to the west. A few moments later, he returned with Asrion, and Kaxen sighed in relief.

  “What’s the matter?” Asrion asked.

  Kaxen beamed at his friend in
spite of the grave news he had to tell him. “There are Shades lurking about in the dead forest.”

  “Shades? I thought they were all destroyed a thousand years ago.”

  “They were,” Asterial said matter of fact, “but Dicarion believes they may have reappeared.”

  “Could they be holdovers from the War of the Oracle?” Asrion asked.

  Asterial nodded. “I could believe that. The land is slowly reawakening; it is possible some of its more colorful remnants may be resurging also.”

  “We have been getting reports of strange creatures and occurrences in the Sacred Land for months now. There was a rumor of a patrol near the border villages being attacked, but every time we dispatched an investigative team to the trouble, they found nothing.” Dicarion said.

  Asrion looked around the dark camp. “Where are Gondrial and Rennon?”

  Asterial took an uneasy puff on his pipe. “I am hopeful they will return to camp soon. I think the Defenders have fought off something, but I am unsure if they prevailed or not. Parlane has shown me the way to Vetell Fex, so I believe I can lead us there.” Asterial put away his half-smoked pipe. “As soon as Gondrial and Rennon return, we will go.”

  “What if Parlane and his men are still out there and need my attention?” Asrion asked concerned.

  “Parlane is used to the Sacred Land. He will be fine without us; besides, it is likely he will track us and join us later anyway. The Defenders have protocols for the dangers of the Sacred Land.” Asterial motioned toward the campsite. “Let’s pack up this camp and make ready to travel.” Kaxen could see Asterial was fuming with anger.

  Kaxen gathered up his tent and sleeping pallet and packed them away. As soon as he was able, he found Asterial. “I don’t understand,” Kaxen said to Asterial, who was packing his sleeping pallet onto his horse. “Why are you so upset?”

  Asterial pulled a strap on his saddle to secure the pallet and then turned his head to Kaxen, looking at him as if he were a foolish child. “I am upset, Kaxen because I have failed.”

  “Excuse me?” Kaxen said confused.

  Asterial took a deep breath. “I failed. I underestimated Malanor. That sorcerer is stronger than he seems, or he has help we don’t know about yet.” He tied off the strap. “You see, Kaxen, I was too arrogant, too sure of myself. I waited too long to send for you and your friends, and now time has caught up with me and I am unprepared. I have not trained you or your friends, and I let you live among non-believers far too long. All the while, Malanor’s army prepares to march on the Sacred Land. I have failed.”

  “It’s not over yet, Asterial, I am eager to learn!”

  “My dear Kaxen, I have looked into your heart and do you know what I have seen?”

  “No.”

  “I waited so long to find you, and now I see that you are trying to take the easy path, the path of least resistance. You want to learn to wield now because you believe it will make your life easier, and that way of thinking often comes from youth. What you fail to see is it is actually the more difficult path. I fear your decision was influenced.”

  Kaxen remembered the three stones and how they had made him feel. The shopkeeper had said they would aid him in decisions, and they did. Kaxen wanted to tell Asterial of the stones, but he could not find the words. “I don’t understand. I am not taking the easy way out. I know it will be tough,” Kaxen said in defense.

  “I know you truly believe that Kaxen, even if your heart tells me different. I know about the stones you bought. I know one was probably an essence stone.”

  Kaxen was about to reply when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. He turned to see Rennon and Gondrial entering the camp. Rennon was as pale as the full moon, and Gondrial was wide-eyed and visibly shaken.

  “What is it?” Asterial said worriedly.

  Gondrial leaned against a nearby tree and breathed in deep as if he might collapse. “In the dead forest,” Gondrial began, “there are horrible creatures, and the worst part of it is I recognize one of them.”

  Asterial looked puzzled. “Oh,” he said inquisitively.

  Gondrial stared into Kaxen’s eyes for a moment and then turned to Asterial. “Malanor has been up to something even grimmer than warmongering. He has unleashed a form of Shade I have never seen before. The creatures have assembled not far from here, and the leader of the horrific group appears to be Lady Shey’s captain of the guard, Rodraq.”

  “Rodraq? Are you certain it was he?” Asterial asked.

  “I am certain,” Gondrial said. “He is white with a black cloak and has thin, gaunt features, but it is Rodraq. We all saw him dead; Malanor must have done something unnatural to him.”

  “Did you see where they were going, Gondrial?”

  “Aye, they were heading east.”

  “Toward the monastery?” Asterial asked concerned.

  Gondrial nodded. “As far as I can tell they are.”

  Dicarion had wandered up to the men talking and had listened to Gondrial’s tale intently. “That is what he is doing! Malanor plans to sack Vetell Fex and is sending the Shades to his army. Why has the Western army not routed them? Is it possible Malanor’s army has defeated them already?”

  Asterial coughed. “Not likely, the armies of the West are strong. This news makes no sense.” He eyed Gondrial with a flash of inspiration in his eye. “Are they moving fast?”

  “Nay, they are gathered and milling about in the woods.”

  “We may still have a chance to beat them to the monastery then. If we can convince the monks an invasion is imminent, I may be able to incite them to fight before the Shades can take up positions with the dark army.” He rounded his horse and put a foot in the stirrup. “Mount up,” he commanded.

  “But how can you defend the monastery if you cannot draw essence in this dead land, Asterial?” Kaxen asked.

  “Simple, the monastery is not in the Sacred Land. It is just on the other side of the border; plenty of essence there. I don’t expect I will be wielding much around the monks anyhow; it makes them nervous,” Asterial said.

  Chapter 20

  An early winter wind blew bitter cold across Kaxen’s face as he trailed behind Asterial, who led the party hastily onward to Vetell Fex. Just as Kaxen thought the situation could not get any worse, he felt the cold sting of giant snowflakes on his cheek. He reached behind him and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and clasped it tight around his face. Asterial only quickened the pace when the snow began to fall. The snow covered the ground and the dead trees, making the Sacred Land appear more peaceful as if it were a vibrant land simply cloaked in winter snow. Kaxen could make out his surroundings as long as the wind kept down and the snow fell straight down in large flakes. Behind in the distance and to his right he could just make out a huge lake, serene and silent in the cold night, its vastness making it impossible to see the other side. Ahead there appeared to be a huge ravine in the hills and mountains with a river running down into the lake. On the far edge of the ravine, embedded in the canyon side, was a monstrous structure.

  “That is Vetell Fex in the cliffside there,” Asterial shouted to his companions, pointing to the structure Kaxen was looking at. “We have arrived.”

  Kaxen was in awe of the monastery, and he noticed Rennon’s jaw had dropped as well. As soon as Rennon saw Kaxen looking his way, he closed his mouth and tried to appear aloof at the sight of the monastery.

  Vetell Fex was built directly into the side of Ashonda’s canyon above the mouth of the mighty Tikaronda River. Its giant columns were as white as the snow falling around them. Kaxen wondered why anyone would attempt to attack such a structure; it seemed completely defendable. Oversized braziers burned all along its expanse, which made the monastery appear to actually be on fire.

  “Monks live here?” Asrion asked, overcome by the ominous appearance of the monastery.

  “Absolutely,” Dicarion answered. “A special kind of monk, the monks of Fawlsbane Vex himself.”

  As
terial led them to the opposite side of the monastery where there appeared to be no bridge to cross, and then he rode off the cliff edge, floating in midair. He reined in his horse. “Ride on. It’s an illusion; the bridge is here.” He reached for his staff and drew it from his saddle. He tapped once on the bridge, and it began to slowly vibrate, glowing with a reddish-orange light illuminating the way. “Quickly now, the light will fade.”

  On the other side of the bridge, two monks dressed in plain brown robes stopped Asterial and took his reins. Asterial dismounted and embraced the first monk’s hand.

  “Welcome, Lord of the Isle,” he said to Asterial.

  “Praise be to Fawlsbane Vex, Lord of the Gods, Gragar,” he responded.

  “What brings you to Vetell Fex, Asterial?”

  “You and your monastery are in grave danger, Lord Gragar. Malanor, Lord of Scarovia, comes with his dark army.”

  The stout, tall man laughed a hearty laugh. “Then we shall have him, and the Tikaronda will run red with the blood of Scarovia.”

  “There is more, Gragar. He may have revived the old abominations of Toborne, atrocities not seen since the War of the Oracle.”

  Kaxen saw Gragar’s bald head wrinkle at Asterial’s words. The monk’s jolly round face turned grim and somber. “Let us not freeze out here in the open; we will discuss this inside with the order.” He motioned to the second hooded monk. “Melias, see to their horses and then join us in the main chamber.” The hooded monk took Asterial’s reins from Gragar and led the horse to Kaxen. He reached out his hand for the reins of Kaxen’s horse. Kaxen handed the reins over to the monk and caught sight of the monk’s hand. A long scar ran up between the forefinger and thumb. Slowly the monk raised his head, and Kaxen began to see his face for the first time. As the light illuminated the monk’s expression, Kaxen made out a scar from cheek to forehead, and when the monk’s eyes met Kaxen’s, they glowed a blood red. Startled, Kaxen reached for Dranmalin as a feeling of utter dread filled him. “It’s one of the creatures!” Kaxen shouted.