Wielder of the Flame

by Nikolas Rex

  She wanted to see him again.

  And soon.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lost

  The bright morning sunshine lit a forest clearing in vivid hues of gold and yellow. A slight breeze swept across the land and the morning air was chilly.

  It was silent but for the chirp of birds.

  Suddenly a young woman burst through the undergrowth, running frantically.

  Her long smooth silky auburn hair flew behind her, held back from her face in a ponytail, as she raced through the open woodland. A pair of bangs which had fallen out of the ponytail swept across her face and she shook her head, clearing her vision.

  Her features and countenance were graceful and pretty. Her deep hazel eyes would have been lovely but they were filled with fear at the moment. Her body was slender but she had the distinct and attractive form of a girl who had already begun transform into a woman. She looked to be in her late teens, early twenties.

  She wore a simple traveling dress of dark brown with light embroidery that accentuated her female features. Her feet were clad in matching dark boots.

  A necklace bobbed around her neck. It was a thin silver chain and at the end, hung a pendant. A silver diamond background engraved with small symmetrical symbols pointed towards the center of the pendant, where lay, embedded into the metal, a small piece of dark crystal. The crystal was smooth on a single surface, but rough and uneven on the other surfaces, as if it were merely a piece broken from a larger rock.

  The young woman’s name was Aliyana.

  Her eyes were silver in color.

  Tears streamed down her face.

  Suddenly a shout from behind broke her thoughts, making her glance over her shoulder.

  “There!” A man suited in shiny breastplate armor burst through the trees and shouted, “I see her! Over here men!” The man turned his attention to the fleeing girl.

  She yelped at the appearance of the men and forced her legs to continue pumping. Her lungs hurt and she gasped for breath. Her heart hammered under her breasts. Sweat trickled down her back and off her nose. She was not the best runner but she figured she could outrun most men, especially if they were suited in armor. She wasn’t running short distance this time however, she was set on escape for good.

  “She is getting away, hurry!” The man behind her shouted, his voice was becoming more distant. Other figures in breastplate armor broke through the trees, but the sounds they made were all so far away.

  That was good, maybe she had a chance after all, but another shout made her almost stop and turn in shock.

  “FIRE!” The man screamed, and the air was filled with whistling at his order.

  NO! her heart leapt into her throat.

  Aliyana did not need to look back to know the men were notching arrows in their composite bows.

  One of the deadly missiles hit the dirt in front of her and her heart almost leapt out of her chest in fright. Three more hit the ground behind and around her with soft thumps, but she jumped over the feathers of the arrow and continued on, her boots slapping the dirt in quick succession.

  “You cannot escape fool girl! We will find you Aliyana! We will fin—”

  But the man’s voice finally faded in the distance and was gone.

  Aliyana continued running. She had to be sure her pursuers were far away, very far away. She wanted to keep crying but she needed the energy to run so she chose to run and forced the tears down.

  Some time passed and as her energy drained she slowed to a trot but always she brought herself back to a run or at least a light jog. Her dress was stifling hot and as she continued forward she ripped the sleeves off and carried them in her hand.

  Finally, after she thought she could run no more, she took a break behind a large rock, leaning against the stone, and taking in her surroundings. She was gasping for air. It took her a long break to regain her breath.

  “RUN!” her mother had cried, “Aliyana run! Free yourself! Get back to your father and brother, go!”

  Fear began to creep up in her and she let the tears fall down her face. She could not believe it. They were on the road back from the Shyden monastery having just visited Tristen, and then one night on the road her and her mother had been taken, dragged in the darkness to a wagon train of Terragurion soldiers. After several days of abuse and travel, the opportunity struck, and they had tried to escape.

  Her mother had made the sacrifice to distract the guards and let Aliyana escape.

  Her throat was beginning to dry and she was thirsty, realizing that the last time she had gotten a drink was back at the caravan. She did not recognize the landscape around her. Back at the road the trees were sparse and the rolling hills green with grass but here she found herself going deeper and deeper into thick forest growth. Where had they been taken? She closed her eyes to focus, leaning against the large boulder at her back, breathing heavily. She wiped the sweat from her face and arms with one of the ripped off sleeves.

  She tried to recall the lay of the land from what she knew about Biarlin. If her assumptions of where the caravan had been when she escaped were correct and her run had not been too sporadic a rate of travel, she was somewhere near Jurhal River.

  With the imaginary maps drawn up in her mind she decided upon what her course of action would be. She needed to get back to Essoril. Her wilderness survival knowledge was basic, but she knew it would have to be enough to get her home. She knew a number of plants, berries and things that were edible in several different regions of land, so hunger was covered for the most part, and if she found a stream, thirst would not be too much of a problem.

  A twig cracking nearby made her snap to attention despite her weariness.

  A large furry creature shot out of the underbrush and ran past her feet.

  “Ahhhh!” She yelped and jumped backward, tripping over some roots and falling backwards into thick underbrush. She didn’t notice as a part of her dress ripped and stuck to the brush.

  After a moment of thinking in which she had time to process what just happened she let out a sigh of relief. She shook her head and stood up, brushing herself off. She took a deep breath and let it out. She had to continue on before it got dark.

  Time passed and the forest around her was becoming thicker and darker despite the sun’s position directly overhead. She paused frequently, tired from the effort she had exerted in her flight away from danger. She had come across many animals, some dangerous, which she avoided with wide berths, and some not, which she had tried to coax to come near her for her to pet but with no success. Her mouth ached for something cool to quench her parched lips and she searched for water.

  With the thick green forest leaves overhead the sunlight was filtered, casting a green glow over everything and it was simply breathtaking. If not for the threat that pursued her, the pressing need to satisfy her hunger and thirst, and the ache of leaving her mother behind, she would spend the time enjoying the beautiful growth, rich green moss, colorful plants, towering trees.

  Eventually she heard the trickle of water, a stream. Water was good for two reasons, the first, to satisfy her thirst, and second, she could follow its path downstream. Surely it fed to a larger source, which fed to the Jurhal River. Finding the river meant a way to navigate her way home.

  She quickly made her way to the promise of something to drink, parting thick green leaves and moving vines to reveal the source of the sound.

  It was a large brook as she had hoped.

  Grateful at the sight, thought of her pursuers far behind her, she knelt down and began to drink eagerly.

  She froze then. She saw the large part of her sleeve missing and knew it must have torn off and most surly have been used by her pursuers to track her. The water dripped out of her now frozen hands, caught halfway between the rivulet and her face.

  A voice behind her and the cold touch of steel to the back of her neck made her heart pound with fear.

  “Missing something?”

  They had found
her.

  Since she was unable to raise her head because his sword was held to the back of her neck the soldier lowered the part of her sleeve, which had ripped off, into her line of vision.

  She gulped. Despite all the water she had just drank, her throat was suddenly dry.

  “Grab her!” The man ordered.

  Two muscular biceps engulfed her small arms and pinned them behind her back. The blade was removed from her neck and the two guards yanked her around forcefully.

  “You insolent little wretch,” The man said furiously.

  She noticed he was not wearing his armor, neither were the other guards. A dark sweat line covered their upper torsos, staining their shirts. They must have stripped down for a lighter chase. Four or more soldiers stood behind the man, making eight of them against her. She was hopelessly caught. Her mother’s sacrifice had been for nothing.

  She struggled to pull herself free, but she was sincerely exhausted and her captors too strong.

  “Give it up. We have prevailed.” The man, clearly the leader of the guard, captain or some such, spoke, “You have been quite the hassle today, did you know that? Made me chase you all up and down this ridiculously overgrown forest. Got me all sweaty and agitated. Worked me up an appetite you see.”

  He drew nearer to Aliyana, slowly circling her, touching her hair and sliding his fingers down her shoulders. She struggled against the two men, turning her head away from the man’s touch.

  “I am sure my men are hungry as well. I do not think Rylen would mind if we took a few nibbles out of her. It would certainly make up for all this running she had us do here, what do you think boys?”

  They shouted their approval.

  The captain clicked his teeth at her, imitating little bites.

  He grabbed the front of her dress, fondling her.

  She yelped and wrenched back with all her might.

  There was a ripping sound and the neck of her dress tore, revealing some of her cleavage, as well as the necklace and crystal pendant.

  “Oh, ho ho!” The captain said, “What have we here?”

  He reached for it.

  “NO!” Aliyana cried.

  The captain snarled and backhanded her.

  “Bite your tongue whelp, or I will bite it for you!”

  He grinned and clutched the end of the necklace, the crystal, in his fist. He lifted the necklace off of Aliyana and put it around his own neck.

  He stared at the crystal. The light glinted off its dark surface.

  “What a pretty little thing,” He muttered to himself.

  She stared defiantly at them, her grey eyes gleamed. Inside she was terrified. She did not want this to happen. She tried to think of her mother, but it only made her feel worse she had left without her. She stifled a fit of tears.

  The sound brought the captain back from his stupor with the crystal.

  “Well then, let us get to the main event!”

  His men roared again their excitement.

  The captain unloosened his sword belt, throwing it to the ground, “I’m going to enjoy this!” he began to untie the leather bindings to his breeches.

  Aliyana felt sick to her stomach. She tried to fight, but she was tired. She thought she was going to puke, she gagged.

  He laughed as he undid the last of his leather binding.

  There was a whoosh of wind and leaves from above followed by a soft thump that happened in a flash.

  A long slightly curved sword suddenly ripped through the captain’s chest, spattering Aliyana and the two guards with blood. The captain lifted his hands for a brief moment, then his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell to his knees, and then onto his face, pressing the sword back up slightly.

  Everyone stood frozen in astonishment.

  A young man arose from where he had landed behind the captain. He slowly withdrew his sword from the corpse. He appeared very young, about fourteen, medium length dark brown hair. He was dressed in traveling clothes and steel armor decorated with dragons. The long, slightly curved, blade in his hand matched his armor.

  It was Drake.

  “Leave this young woman alone,” He said, wiping the blood from his blade onto his leather breeches

  “He just murdered captain Krojak! Kill him!” One of the guards yelled.

  The two soldiers holding Aliyana threw her behind them. She fell with a splash into the creek. They all drew their swords and rushed the young man.

  Aliyana tried to stand up in the water but slipped on several moss covered stones at the creek bottom and fell face first. Underneath the water she heard the muted sounds of steel against steel, shouts and screams and the crash of large bodies thudding against the ground.

  Her rescuer must surely have met his fate already. Seven armed men to a single boy in his late teens, he would be slaughtered in moments. Sure he had taken out the captain in a single swift strike, but he had had the element of surprise. Now he was surrounded, outmanned and out-sworded.

  She pushed herself out of the water, flinging her hair out of her face. Water blurred her vision but now that she was out of the creek her ears were assaulted by the sounds of battle, this time clear and undistorted. Blade against flesh, a scream. A large figure, towering over her, abruptly fell on top of her. She had no time to react and was knocked back into the stream, a dead soldier weighing her down.

  She choked, struggled for breath. Forcing the literally dead weight off of her she pulled herself above water once more, spitting and gasping for breath. She finally found solid footing and stood up, wiping her vision clear. She was ready to run. The boy was a fierce warrior to be sure but the larger force would have overpowered him already. The remainder of the soldiers, furious over their dead captain, would surely be ready to take their anger out on her.

  She was surprised by what she saw.

  The young man knelt by a large bush, cleaning one of his long blades on a large nearby leaf. All eight guards lay around him in a freakish circle of death. The dead man that had toppled onto her was already being taken by the flowing brook. It was a horrid scene of complete carnage. And there the young man knelt, perfectly calm, cleaning his two swords.

  “How— How did—?” she began but could not finish.

  “I have a great disdain for Kingdom soldiers.” The young man stood up, sheathed the two swords to his back and walked over to the edge of the stream, “you must be Aliyana?”

  “How—” Aliyana stuttered, “How do you know my name?”

  Finished with cleaning his instruments of destruction he sheathed them and straightened.

  “Come with me,” He said, matter-of-factly, “There is someone waiting for you.”

  “What—?” She began.

  He turned without another word and disappeared into the brush.

  “Wait!” Aliyana said.

  She rushed over to the dead captain. She pulled the necklace from his dead body and replaced it around her neck. Her father had given it to her, it was a precious and ancient family heirloom. Her father told her it had come from a time before the War of Power, maybe even from The Beginning. She could not leave it behind.

  She rushed after the boy.

  “Wait!”

  She caught up to the boy and tried to place an arm on his shoulder to make him stop.

  He deftly dodged her grab and swiveled to face her.

  “I am grateful for your help,” she said, “but I do not know your name.”

  “My name is Drake,”

  “Who is waiting for me?”

  “Your Mother.”

  ***

  He remained hidden underneath the weight of his fallen comrade for what seemed an eternity.

  He had watched as the girl retrieved her necklace from his captain. Then, blood from the dead body atop him had oozed slowly onto his face, covering his head and eyes. But he dared not move. He had to be sure his attacker was far gone before he even thought about stirring. He listened for a long time after the girl disappeared into the brush, bu
t only heard the sound of the birds high up in the trees.

  Finally, as the sky began to darken he decided it was safe.

  He grunted as he shoved the heavy dead weight of his fellow soldier off of him. As quietly as he could he pulled himself free. He had been stabbed in the gut, but his chest plate had taken the brunt of the attack, leaving him with only a shallow cut. His legs were asleep from so much time under the weight of the other man that he could not stand. He dragged himself to the creek and began washing his face. He scrubbed and scrubbed until all the blood had been cleaned. He was a handsome man, younger than the rest of the unit. He had joined the Bloodcloaks only just a cycle ago. His hair was a light blonde and his eyes a sharp blue, a trait that was common in Terragur.

  He shuddered, unable to get the image of the spinning, angry faced young man out of his head. The two swords spun and twirled like some sort of unstoppable whirling mechanism of death. And the boys eyes, somehow they were unemotional, cold, and still, and yet at the same time they glowed with a burning rage that was clawing to get out.

  He knew it was unlikely someone was going to come for him. His unit was supposed to meet up with the other units in a fortnight or so. Only after his unit failed to show up would they begin to look for him and the others, and discover that his unit had been attacked and wiped out. He had to get back to the caravan, but he would have to leave a trail he could follow, he had to come back here to show them. Or no one would believe him.

  Only when they saw the carnage around him now would they believe that the Revenant called Kilik Dualis was still alive.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Firebringer Legend

  Marc dipped his rag into the bucket of soapy water again and brought it up with a small splash.

  He sat on a stool in front of the sizable aldom creature named Redmor, washing it down after the long afternoon of training in the yard. It had rained on and off during the session and he and the creature were spattered with mud. Sesuadra and Zildjin had already finished grooming their mounts, both animals were feeding at the end of the barn. Marc knew that Redmor would be impatient and eager to join his two fellow aldom’s in feeding, but he liked the time he spent with Redmor so he found a way to soothe the creature until he was done. He found it liked to eat a dark burgundy fruit that Sesuadra had told him was called reytule. So Marc snuck them to the aldom while he washed it down.