Blood of the Lost: The Darkness Within Saga: Book 2

by JD Franx

“Ember? You should see this...” Yrlissa muttered. Sitting back up, Ember opened her eyes. Giddeon turned Niky’s head to the side, revealing a second grievous wound she had somehow missed. The bottom claw of whatever attacked her must have caught her jawbone, just below her left ear. It peeled the flesh and muscle from her jawline all the way to below her chin. Ember winced at the sick sensation in her belly caused by what the poor woman must have experienced, yet still found enough willpower to walk for days looking for help.

  After doing her best with the enchanted needle and disinfected thread to mend the ghoulish wounds to Niky’s face, Ember sat back again and relaxed, letting go of the strength that had helped carry her through the horrifying ordeal. Rubbing her sore eyes, she helped the others carry Niky and place her in the back of the wagon. Covering her patient with spare blankets they brought with them, Ember climbed into the wagon so she could watch the woman closely. Sitting down beside Niky, physically and emotionally exhausted, she closed her eyes, trying to rest. The others pulled the wagon and horses off the path and had a bite to eat while waiting to see if all their work had paid off and Niky would survive.

  Two hours passed as they waited for some sign of life to return to Niky’s broken body. Max and Kasik patrolled an ever-widening route before eventually working their way back to the wagon. All was quiet for as far out as they went. Ember never moved from the woman’s side, and for the first hour, she used fresh water and clean cloths to clean the girl’s beaten and severely bruised body. She never once let her mind wander from the task of watching for complications. Well into the second hour, though, she was beginning to doze off, the expenditure of magical resources and the emotional drain causing her excessive fatigue. When Niky regained consciousness an hour later, Ember was wide awake in mere seconds, already casting what magic she could that might ease the lingering pain the woman woke up with.

  Sparkling waves of soft flowing magic entered the woman’s body, giving her a light feeling of euphoria that easily subsided a large portion of the pain she still suffered from.

  “Thank you for your help,” she rasped softly. “I had thought the earth mother had called me home.”

  “You were lucky we found you.” Ember smiled as she laid her hand on Niky’s head to feel how she was doing. “You would have died otherwise.” She took Ember’s hand so gently and with such kindness that she wondered what kind of animal could have hurt her in such a way.

  The woman placed Ember’s hand on her chest, added her hands to the top. “If it was the will of the goddess, then it would have been. No one could have healed me if it was not her will. Thank you for your part in it.”

  “Are you a priestess?” Yrlissa asked. “We assumed so by your dress...”

  “Yes. My sisters and I serve the earth goddess, Mylla.”

  Giddeon listened to the conversation with an intent look on his face and naturally added his opinion. “I never mean to speak ill of the gods, Sister, but the mother Mylla had no part in you surviving. That was the magic and medical skills of young Ember here,” he said, as he gently squeezed her shoulder. Still obviously exhausted, and her breathing laboured, the priestess did her best to respond.

  “My thanks to you all. We must discuss such matters of faith later, Master Giddeon. I am not feeling well.”

  Surprised, he replied, “You know who I am?”

  Nodding slowly, she took his hand. “I am Vesta Niky, from the Chapel of the Mother Mylla in Corynth. I know you, but we have not met... officially...” Saying no more, she closed her eyes and ran her tongue over her dry, cracked lips. Ember offered her some water, warning her to take small sips, even so, most of it spilled, running down the priestess’ neck. Ember used a small cloth to dry the woman off and then gently spread some honey balm on her lips to moisten them as best she could.

  Vesta Niky’s smile of gratitude warmed Ember’s heart. “Thank you. You have so much more than a healer’s touch,” she praised.

  “Thank you. If you like, you may call me Ember.” Niky managed a smile, but nothing else.

  “Vesta Niky?” Yrlissa asked calmly. “What were you doing out here? What happened to you?” Yrlissa had not even finished her question, but it brought forth tears from Niky’s eyes and a quivering fear trembled her lips.

  “W-we... we camped... north of here. West o-of... I, I...” She could not finish. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her back arched off the floorboards of the wagon. Intense seizures racked her body. Yrlissa sprang up into the back of the wagon to help Ember. They both held her down.

  “Kaisaney Vallanomin,” Yrlissa barked, casting her magic into the ravaged young woman. The spell eased the convulsions as Ember gently put her into a deep sleep, knowing she needed rest more than anything if she were to recover.

  “Thank you, Lissa. I wasn’t sure what to do,” Ember said as she looked desperately at her.

  “I know, nahlla, convulsions must be calmed by using your magic on the nerves in the brain. The Dyrannai spell I used means ‘calm body’. You must find the Fae equivalent within your memories. The girl has been horribly traumatized. She needs rest, not questions,” she said, sternly eyeing Giddeon.

  “All right, Yrlissa,” he replied. “We’ll find their camp and figure out what happened to them from there.”

  Yrlissa nodded and Ember continued to watch over Niky. “I’m going to make sure I didn’t overlook something when we healed her before. I’ll stay with her,” she said, nodding to the others.

  Giddeon wasted no time in gathering the others away from the wagon. Max approached the group last, having waited for Yrlissa to finish cleaning herself up.

  “Well, Giddeon,” he asked, his hands in the air. “What’s the plan, or more importantly, what are we looking for? What could have done something like that? It sounds like there could be a significant number of bodies out there.”

  Saleece agreed, nodding. “Max is right, Father. There could be other survivors as well, if not some of these Sisters will have had magic. We can’t leave them to rot.”

  “Agreed,” Giddeon said, scratching the back of his head and tightening his ponytail. “As for what could have done this?” He shook his head. “I cannot even begin to guess. We must find their campsite and see for ourselves. Max, Kasik, the Vesta said they were west of the trail...” he stopped when Max gave him a strange look.

  “Sorry, Max,” he clarified. “A Vesta is a priestess or a vested sister, our lucky lady here is a vesta for the goddess Mylla. Their temple is across the road from my home in Corynth, remember?” When Max nodded, Giddeon continued. “All right, where was I? Oh, yes. You two take Yrlissa and see if you can track Sister Niky’s trail back to their camp. Saleece and I will bring everything else, the wagon and your mounts. We’ll follow at a safe distance and give you support if whatever did this is still around. All right?” They all nodded, knowing what they had to do.

  There were very few people, if any, whether Human or Elvehn who could exceed Yrlissa’s capabilities when it came to tracking in the forest, or anywhere else for that matter. Niky had left an easy trail of blood, disturbed earth and drag marks for Yrlissa to follow back down the trail and into the forest. The others followed not far back, and as always, Max was right by her side as she showed him what to look for. A blood smear on the far side of a tree, a deep, circular depression from a fallen knee, and splashes of blood as they splattered off her clothing or were flung from the tips of her fingers. Max had taken every chance he could to learn as much about tracking people and animals from her. Every group should have at least two trackers Kasik told him once not long ago.

  An hour passed while Yrlissa and Max steadily followed Niky’s trail back through the forest. Kasik followed closely, acting as their eyes against danger while their attention was focused on the trail left by the vested sister. The trees thinned considerably at the current elevation in the mountain range, but the uneven ground prevented them from seeing the campsite until they climbed the small rise before it. They crested the top and
Max was the first to see the clearing campsite of the vested sisters of Mylla. The site was the equivalent to an open-air abattoir.

  “That’s... bracing when you’re not ready for it,” Max choked. “What could have done such a thing?” He coughed as the disturbing smell assaulted his nostrils.

  “Nnnnn.” Yrlissa merely grunted, even with the back of her wrist firmly to her nose, she still could not keep the abrasive stench of death and decay from making her eyes water. They both heard Ember gag and cough from the back of the wagon below the rise. The putrid air seemed to permeate the forest as a gentle shift in the wind’s direction towards the east seemed to settle in, carrying the smell back the way the had come.

  Giddeon, Saleece and Kasik approached the small hilltop, and stood looking at the carnage.

  “You ever seen anything like this, Giddeon?” Max asked solemnly.

  The ArchWizard nodded. “Yes, but only in the aftermath of war, not like this...” he explained as he swept his hand across the clearing that looked more like a battlefield. “You?”

  “Yeah,” Max said. “In Iraq, also during war. During the march to Baghdad, our heavy artillery bombarded the hot zones head of us. It left nothing but body parts and ruin.”

  “I can’t imagine,” Giddeon said, shaking his head. “I saw your world, briefly, the night I brought Kael there. The technology... I can’t imagine the destructive capabilities of such advanced technology. It makes magic look small.”

  “In some ways,” Max agreed, staring out across the massacre. “Yet magic likely did this...”

  “Giddeon?”

  “Yes, Kasik?”

  “Perhaps it would be better if Max and myself checked the area? This smell could easily draw in unwanted attention.”

  Giddeon nodded. “You’re right. Max, string your bow before you leave. If a troll or an ogre finds its way here, we’re going to need it. Saleece, stay with Ember and watch her back. Yrlissa, come with me and let’s see if we can figure out what happened here.”

  They walked down the slight depression to the camp when Giddeon turned back and added, “Kasik, you and Max stay reasonably close in case something decides to join us.” Both nodded as they headed into the forest in different directions.

  Arriving at the edge of the camp Giddeon glanced at Yrlissa. “Well, this is your area of expertise. What do the tracks show?”

  Yrlissa looked back and forth across the camp, taking in everything she saw. There were the remains of seven tents, three to each side and one in the middle at the far end of the camp, directly across from where she stood. For some reason, the tent had been raised against the cliff. It did not sit right with her. It was where she would put a prison tent in case she had to blow it and its prisoners over the cliff. A concentrated blast of air from a lone wizard could easily do the job, but why would vested sisters of the earth goddess have a prison tent? They wouldn’t, she decided, and dismissed the idea, contributing the tent’s position to the priestess’ lack of woodlands experience.

  She moved on as the rest of the tents drew her attention. They were all destroyed, either ripped, burnt, or splattered with bodily remains. She could not be sure, but there appeared to be about twenty bodies, all were female and of varying ages, and all were dressed in the white flowing robes of the priestesses of Mylla. Most seemed to have been torn apart by creatures with large sharp claws, while there was no doubt that others had been killed by bladed weapons and magic. Magic whose trace residue Yrlissa knew all to well.

  “Kael did this. Gods, but why?” she whispered.

  Giddeon had slowly drifted over to the right from where she was standing. She glanced his way, but it was clear he hadn’t heard her. Crouched down, he examined something on the earth. She was already positive she knew what he found.

  “It’s a hellrift, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “No. It doesn’t appear to be a rift opening, it’s shaped more like a tear. If I didn’t know better better, I’d say something from the lower planes tore its way into our world,” he said shaking his head in disbelief. “What’s more,” he paused, pointing all over the sight of the massacre, “is that there are dozens more spots just like this one. What the hell happened here, Yrlissa? Do you have any idea at all? Is it related to Kael? Is it possible he did this?” Giddeon stammered, clearly disturbed by what he was seeing.

  Yrlissa knew without a doubt that the magical residue matched Kael’s underworld magic. Sensing trace magic was a skill that had been lost many thousands of years ago, and it was the one skill only the Elvehn had ever really been blessed with. She suspected that there were still a rare few of her kin who were born with the blessing to understand trace residue magic and the ability to see magical auras, but it was something no one ever spoke about. It was a skill certain groups would enslave or kill to possess. What she could not understand was why Kael would have attacked a group of priestesses who would never harm anyone. Or why it looked like these vested sisters may have had a prison tent.

  Confused, she stared at Giddeon. “Keep looking. I want to check out the tents. Something is not right here. In fact, something is very wrong.”

  “I’ll be here. Maybe I can find some more clues on the bodies. I’ll gather them together. Max and Kasik can help when they get back. We’ll have to dispose of them. Most of these women and young girls were bonded wizards, which means...”

  “Leaving them to rot or burying them will seed this meadow in death-flowers. We’ll have to cremate them.” Giddeon nodded as Yrlissa walked to the tent against the cliff’s edge.

  Managing to erect the front two poles so she could get inside to look around, Yrlissa was glad the large centre pole hadn’t been smashed. It gave her room to move while inside the blood-soaked, charred tent. Once inside, she quickly realized the tent was bare of any furniture except for a sleeping area. Soft blankets had been laid on top of an even softer sleeping mat and then surrounded by velvet pillows. The arrangement was definitely Salzaran and a little extravagant for Mylla’s vested sisters, but not abnormal. The only thing she did she see out of place was a small bundle of rope lying by the centre pole of the tent. Bending over, she picked it up to examine it closer. It was tattered and frayed where someone had used incredible strength to snap the fibres of the rope, possibly to free themselves. She looked over her shoulder out the door and saw Giddeon on the far side of the camp with Max and Kasik. They had just begun the gruesome task of collecting the dead for disposal.

  Turning back to the rope, she closed her eyes and whispered. “Savanomin ivey hanor.”

  The spell activated slowly, as it was meant to, so the caster could make sense of the colours, sounds, and feelings as they flashed through the mind. Yrlissa frowned as she concentrated with more intensity, and images began to appear in her mind.

  She saw Kael, but the ferocity of his hatred and anger was insanely powerful and unlike anything she had ever felt. It knotted her stomach with fear. Another flash changed the images—women in long white gowns fled in absolute terror as demons stalked the campsite and tore several of the women to pieces. Dark cyclones filled with black icicles and razor shards of purple ice twisted through the tents, snapped support poles and flayed several of the youngest priestesses trying to hide inside. Yrlissa groaned. The girls could not have been more than ten years of age. Horrific visions of senseless slaughter filled her mind until she could handle no more. Releasing the power that supplied the mind’s eye spell, one last image slammed into her mind. Stronger than the others, the scene stole her breath. The priestess they had saved, Vesta Niky, sat smiling on Kael’s lap. He was tied with the frayed rope as he sat against the pile of soft pillows and she gently bumped her nose to his with the familiarity of a loved one, but her smile quickly turned to a savage grin of someone victorious. Yrlissa opened her eyes to find herself back in the tattered remains of the tent. She collapsed, rolled onto her back and stared up at the roof of the tent.

  “What happened here?” she whispered to herself, more confused th
an ever.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “The months have passed slowly since I’ve been here. Talohna. The word is quickly becoming a synonym for suffering. Everywhere we go good people die or lose all they have. This world needs people who would put the needs of others ahead of their own. But I will probably die long before that happens. People are just as selfish here as they are on Earth. It’s as if the human race can’t help themselves, regardless of the dimension.”

  Kael Symes, Journal entry, 2025 PC

  DWARVEN MOUNTAIN RANGE

  Three black ravens sat side-by-side on a branch far above the camp full of dead women in white dresses. They watched intently as Giddeon, Kasik, and Max dragged and carried bodies to the centre of the clearing while Yrlissa tried to figure out what had happened. As if blessed with a superior intellect, the dark eyes of the large black birds followed the group on the ground, as if listening carefully to what was said, or perhaps taking stock for themselves as to what had caused the massacre in the clearing. After fifteen minutes, all three birds took flight and climbed high above the towering trees, flying to the north.

  A half hour passed before the birds dove together, dropping through the trees and racing around branches before finally coming to a rest above a second camp. This one was occupied by the living—an older Elvehn woman and two younger Humans. One was male, his skin covered in detailed black and purple tattoos. A younger girl, no more than thirteen, bustled around the camp helping the Elvehn woman. The ravens listened for an hour, never moving, before they took wing and scattered in different directions.

  Nekrosa Kohl’s solid black eyes cleared, the whites pushing the black to the centre of his eyes until his bright silver irises reappeared and the black vanished within his dilated pupils. He glanced over at his wife, Sephi, just in time to see the black vanish from her dark gold eyes. With their control over the black ravens released, they waited several minutes before their trusted companion, Luthian Bathory, did the same. All three shuddered as their consciousness completely returned to their own minds. Sephi stared closely at Nekrosa, the memory of the massacre site still fresh.