by E. A. Copen
“You gave no thought to taking the heart for yourself?” one questioned.
“Why? What would I want with it?”
“Power,” said another.
The second Telmara added, “You have your own illness, do you not? Do not fidget. I can sense the crystals within you. This expedition has made them grow. You are dying in slow motion.”
I put a hand over the dull ache in my stomach and swallowed the dryness in my mouth. “Maybe, but I can always find another dragon or another way. I’d rather use it to help someone else. I only wish I could’ve used it to save more people.”
“But you will suffer,” said the elf. “Why would you choose to suffer so needlessly? For one you barely know?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do. Because Dex is a good man who doesn’t deserve to die. Because he’s my friend. I’ve already watched one friend die today. I won’t lose another.”
They exchanged glances from behind their veils. After a moment of silent contemplation, the elf who had been questioning me rose and slowly lifted his veil. The other Telmara and guards in the room diverted their eyes to keep from seeing his face.
He was older, with a thin face and a stripe of a white beard. The elf elder’s pale blue eyes seemed more gentle than harsh, the complete opposite of his voice. “I cannot speak as one of the Telmara when I say this. Our code of honor forbids it. I, however, cannot be silent. I owe you a debt for saving my son.”
“You’re Dex’s father?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
I clenched my fists. “No offense, but words are cheap. I don’t want your thanks. I want nothing from you and never did. But Dex is a different story. All he ever wanted was for you to give a damn.”
Dex’s father sighed and winced as if he were in pain. “My position…”
“Screw your position, sir. He’s your son. If you want to thank me, you’ll stop treating him like such an outsider. You’ll give him a place here if ever he wants it. You’ll offer him the family he grew up wishing he had.”
Dex’s father lowered his head and let the veil fall back into place. He took a step back and sat in his seat. “This clan owes you a debt. Now that the dragon is dead, and the rift sealed, we can expand our hunting grounds and feed our people. We will have more resources for our children, and space to grow and explore further from human influence. For your assistance in this matter, the Telmara names you Galahedron, friend of the people. As is our custom, you are entitled to a single boon.”
I fidgeted with my fingers. “What about Dex? Does saving him count?”
“No,” said another of the Telmara. “He is of the blood, however impure that blood may be. That bloodline must be protected for the good of the people.”
“If you really mean that, then make him one of you. Officially. He will always be welcome here. You’ll let him come and go as he pleases and stop treating him like an outsider. You will recognize him as the natural born child of one of your leaders and all that entails.”
A long moment of silent tension passed.
Then Dex’s father stood and tapped his staff against the ground. A wave of red magic swept through the tent, almost pushing me back a step. “Let it be known that henceforth that Dexter Cavalieres shall be known among the people as Dalondir. We greet and embrace him as one of the people.”
“Dalondir,” said another of the Telmara, rising and clapping their hands.
“Dalondir!”
One by one, they all rose and made the same motion.
“Tonight,” continued Dex’s father, “we celebrate the extension of our clan to both Dalondir and Galahedron! Let us prepare!”
“Dalondir,” Leseran mused as he walked me out of the tent. “It’s fitting.”
“What does it mean?”
“Elf thorn,” he replied. “A permanent reminder that his acceptance did not come easily. It could’ve been worse, I suppose. He could’ve been Gylfdin.”
“And what does that mean?” I pressed.
“Goat rectum.”
I nodded in agreement. “Guess he lucked out there.”
Leseran brought me to another hut and paused outside. “They will have moved him here by now, I suspect. I’m told he’s recovering remarkably well, considering.” He turned to me. “Before you go in, you should know something.”
I sucked in a breath. “Is it about those side effects you warned me about?”
He nodded. “The procedure he’s been through, it is… You don’t have an equivalent word, but I suppose you would call it a major sort of magic. It can change people, affect them in unusual ways that aren’t obvious at first. Or the effects may be minor. It is not unlike being exposed to large amounts of dangerous radiation, except that its use is healing, not hurting.”
“Like chemotherapy or something.”
He thought for a moment. “Maybe. The point is, he may not be as you saw him last. I don’t know his condition other than that his body is healing.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t thank me. And you may regret your decision to demand his naturalization. It will complicate him to live in both worlds. The Telmara will expect more than he will want to give.” He opened the door to the hut. “But that’s for tomorrow. Sirim dereth amaderin cur’than, Galahedron.”
“And that means?”
He smiled. “It means today we are friends, but tomorrow we may be enemies. Enjoy your evening.”
I fought not to shudder at the grim warning. Whatever Leseran meant, I could worry about it later, after I made sure Dex was okay.
I stepped into the dimly lit hut.
Dex was lying on the bed under a thin blanket, his upper body bare. He had strange red marks, like paint on his face. “I’m dead,” he groaned. “I’m dead and this is hell.”
I pinched his arm.
“Ouch! What the hell?” He rubbed the red spot.
“Pretty sure the dead don’t feel pain.” I sat down on the bed beside him. “How are you?”
“Well, now my arm hurts.” He sighed and put a hand over his face. “My head is throbbing. The rest of me feels like I got tossed into a wood pulper and then hung out to dry for good measure. Everything hurts, and I really do mean everything. You ever felt pain in your spleen? I didn’t even know where my spleen was until now.”
“But other than that, you feel fine?”
“Mostly, yeah. Not dying anymore is great.”
I frowned. “Leseran said the treatment might change you.”
Dex’s eyes widened. He lifted the blanket and looked down before letting out a relieved sigh. “No change there. Good.”
“Seriously?” I made a sour face.
“Hey, you can’t blame a guy for checking.” He checked himself over quickly. “Nothing seems different. You know, I should thank you. They told me you gave up something that could’ve saved your life, used it for me instead. I owe you.”
I shrugged. “It was the right thing to do. Besides, we can always find another dragon.”
He frowned. “Another dragon?”
“I know. After everything that happened with Ash, you’d think I’d be a little less than enthusiastic to go hunt down another dragon, but I might not have another choice.”
“Ash?” Dex made a face I couldn’t quite read.
I nodded. “I’m pretty sure he’s dead. No one could’ve survived that cave in. At least Ike and Foggy are okay.”
He blinked, frowning.
“Dex? Is everything okay?” I asked.
He rubbed the back of his head. “Look, you’re nice and all, and it’s sort of embarrassing to admit this, but I have no idea who you are or what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t remember? What about Kenny?”
He shook his head again and suddenly I knew the price he had paid to stay alive. The potion that had saved his life had stolen some of his memories.
Epilogue
Broken stone dug into Ash’s side. They wer
e old friends, Ash and the stone. Judging by his cracked and bleeding lips and fading consciousness, however, the dehydration would kill him before the rock did.
There was just enough space in his tiny prison to move his left hand. Another boulder had pinned his right. His fingers ached as he moved them up his stomach to touch the open wound. The blood had long ago stopped pooling on his skin, but he was still bleeding internally. Though he couldn’t feel the bleeding, his abdomen was bloated, and there was an unfamiliar soreness working its way through his muscles.
In the time he had spent pinned beneath the rocks, he’d called out for help. Then, he gave up and tried to move the rocks himself, even resorting to opening rifts to swallow them. A bad idea. Removing the wrong rock had made more come down on top of him. He was lucky one hadn’t crushed his head. When he knew he couldn’t move the rocks on his own, and that no one was left to come for him, Ash resigned himself to the slow and painful death that waited. It wasn’t the end he would’ve chosen, but at least it was an end.
The thing inside of him, however, had other ideas. How it had screamed and fought when he told it the truth! It felt like a victory, dying with that thing trapped inside him. A small one, but still. In the end, at least he would have that.
The thing had taken everything else away, had hurt Ember, the only woman he’d ever truly loved. Now she hated him. Despised him. She had run him through and left him to die, as she should’ve.
Ash fought not to close his eyes. Sleep was the enemy. Sleep was death, and he wanted the thing to suffer as long as possible for taking his life away from him.
Even as Ash’s body shut down, the thing that had taken his mind still whispered to him. It didn’t speak in words, not comprehensible ones, anyway, but there were whispers just the same. Ever since he had stepped foot inside that cursed Black City, it had been there, in the back of his mind, tormenting him, the whisper of a voice just out of hearing.
At least I escaped from the Institute. They won’t toy with my body after death now. The thing had done him a favor, killing those Institute soldiers. But it was his idea to convince Zia to help. Ash had hoped she would see through him, see how hard he was fighting against the thing. With her magic, maybe she could help.
But Zia was as blind as the rest of them, and now she was dead too, or something like it.
Ash’s eyes snapped open. How long had he been asleep? What was that sound? He listened intently to a light scraping noise, close to where he lay. There… Was that a grunt? A voice?
Ash licked his lips and bit down on his tongue. The thing wanted him to cry out, to be found, but that would ruin everything. It would make him hurt more people. Death was his only escape.
He bit down until his tongue bled and filled his mouth with copper enough that he gagged on it.
The rock near his head moved enough to let in light. Ash squinted and prayed. No, no, no! Put it back!
“Over here!” The silhouette of a man leaned over the opening. “He’s over here!”
“Let… me… die,” he whispered. “Let it die!”
If the man heard him, he gave no sign.
A second ticked by, and the moment of clarity faded. He fought it, gnashing his teeth and cursing inwardly. But the thing was too strong, too eager.
Zia’s face appeared above him through the opening, while others worked to clear the rubble. She gestured frantically for them to free his arm. The moment the boulder over his arm came up, the agony returned. He hissed through his teeth and fought the urge to curl into a ball.
Zia ignored his twisted features, his bloody and broken appearance. So kind, so loyal, Zia. We should reward her. He would have to think of something worthy of her. “My king.” She went to one knee.
Ash fought to the front, just long enough to utter a single word. “Em… ber?”
Zia almost flinched, but she restrained her jealousy. “Gone, my king. She took the dragon’s heart. I’ve sent scouts to track them, but lost their trail about a day’s ride from here. We have, however, located the artificer and the dwarf. I have people standing by, ready to kill them on your order.”
Yes, said the thing. Kill them now, before they can be more trouble. But Ash held his tongue until he could say, “No.”
Zia frowned. “No? But they robbed you of your glory. They helped her escape, not to mention they left you like this. Surely you want them dead?”
“Small men,” Ash managed. “They mean nothing.”
The thing inside was satisfied with that answer, but it was done being quiet. Ash was out of energy to fight it and let it do what it wanted. He had saved Ike and Foggy’s life, at least, and found out Ember was alive. As long as they all lived, there was hope.
The men with Zia finished clearing the last of the rubble. Ash studied their faces, noting the crystalline growths on their chins, their ears, the tops of their heads. The sour taste of bile filled his throat. Heretics.
We can use them, said the thing. And it worked to form a plan.
While the thing worked, Ash floated in an existence of black nothingness, a prison in his own mind. Sometimes, it let him do small things. He could eat, piss, or read his books. Otherwise, it took charge, transforming him into a puppet that had to bend to its will.
“We’ll get you the best healers,” Zia promised, and directed the heretics to lift him onto a prepared stretcher. “In the meantime, what are your orders, sir? Where do we go now?”
Ash let out a wheezing breath. “The Kingdom of Atlanta must submit.”
“We will need an army. Atlanta’s defenses are strong.”
He turned his head, looking at the surrounding heretics. “We have the beginnings of an army here. All we need to do is get word to the rest of them.”
“The rest of them? But there are dozens of pockets all around the country. You’d have to unite them all under one banner against a common cause to even have a chance.”
“Then that is what we do. Spread the word. Every man, woman, and child infected by the plague of magic on this world is welcome. They will be my citizens, my army. My people. And I will be their prophet. I have seen the Ashen throne and heard the whispers of the dead gods. I have walked through the rifts and returned, something no other man has done. I cannot die, Zia. Not until my mission is complete.”
Inside, Ash was screaming, full of contempt and rage. If he had not been so weak, he would’ve pushed the thing out. But he was, and he was so very tired of fighting. Maybe it would be best if he just slept in the black void, giving himself over completely to the thing.
But Ember… He couldn’t let it hurt Ember.
Zia was still talking, irritated. She worried about his body, but there was no reason. The thing wouldn’t let him die. He should’ve seen that before.
“There are logistical issues. The heretics aren’t alone in the forest,” Zia continued.
“The elves torment us,” the heretic said.
Zia nodded. “If you want Atlanta, you’ll have to go through the elves. It won’t be easy.”
The thing licked his bloody lips. “Not if we point their attention elsewhere. Let them fight each other and we will be there to put their world back together.”
The heretic bowed his head. “The faithful are yours to command. How may I honor you, Rift Walker?”
Ash made a fist. “Bring me the ears of every elf you find between here and Atlanta.”
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From the Author
One of the most common questions I get from readers is, “Where do you get your ideas from?”
The answer to that question is… It varies. Sometimes, all it takes is a song and BAM, I’ve got a whole world made up and ready to go. Ember and Ash’s world took a lot more.
I knew I wanted to develop a big world with multiple seri
es back in 2018, and I started to develop a few different ideas. At first, it was just supposed to be an IP (intellectual property) that I was going to develop and sell to someone else. I certainly didn’t have the time to write it, not with another series taking off like wildfire.
I spent a month writing a guide to Rift World that was well over a hundred pages. It included maps, sketches, and a history for the world going back to 1986. Once I had that complete, I pitched the idea to the publisher I had been working with, but they passed on it without any explanation.
Slowly, over the next six months, I added more to the document, developing the world further. My intent shifted to turning Rift World into a multi-author venture, bringing in other authors I knew to write in the world I developed. I was still fully invested in other projects at the time. I knew Rift World was a good idea, and I really hated to see it not coming to life.
And then Covid-19 hit. Life got turned upside down. The people I had been working with backed out to work on other things, understandably. I was also facing burn out and needed some time off to work on some other ideas.
During 2020, I pitched the idea to a major editor with one of the top traditional publishing houses in the world. She liked the idea, but had to pass. Traditional publishing wasn’t doing urban fantasy.
Of course, Rift World isn’t really urban fantasy. I just didn’t know it at the time. My plan had always been to build up an urban fantasy world with the focus being on multiple different characters, each in their own guild or city.
Over time, I found myself losing my passion for writing urban fantasy. My horror books weren’t selling either. I really wanted to write something that other people would enjoy. I still knew Rift World was a good idea, but I was so burnt out with urban fantasy that I couldn’t work on it.
And so it sat.
