A New Light (The Age of Dawn Book 5)

by Everet Martins

  “It will be a great honor for her to serve those who have defended the Great Tree this day.” Thalia looked at them departing, returning to him and taking his hand in both of hers. “Tell me, what is it like at the Silver Tower? Is it true that the demon spawn have taken it?”

  “It is true and this is why my friend and I came. The Tower thought it would never fall, that it wasn’t possible. Well, I can tell you that even the best walls can’t keep them out. You were lucky today that there weren’t any Shattered Wings.”

  “Shattered Wings? I do not know this name.”

  “A terrible, flying demon spawn, as you say. Asebor.” He dropped his voice when he said his name. “He has the Tower, there were very few survivors.”

  Thalia slowed her dancing to a stop and solemnly nodded. “Thank you for bringing me these tidings.”

  “What is the Great Tree? How old is it?”

  Thalia narrowed her eyes at him, her body picking up the beat again. “They do not teach you these things in your village?”

  “They probably did but wasn’t the best student” Walter freed his hand from hers, his neck demanding to be scratched.

  She stopped twirling and swaying, and sat down. “Come, have a rest.” She tapped the section of bench beside her, polished and shining. He promptly sat, though he was starting to enjoy himself, almost understanding why people danced. There was something freeing about moving for movement’s sake.

  Thalia took a long sip from her bottle, then licked her lips at him. “The Great Tree has been here since before man. Its life force is the seed of all plant beings.” She swept her arm in a wide arc. “If the Great Tree would have fallen today, the realm, the life of man would have collapsed with it, for there would be no food, no air to breathe, no clean water. All depends on its existence. Southerners and city folk forget this, forget about the importance of our domain.”

  “I see.” Walter nodded. He never cared for much besides wasting time with Juzo and practicing Sid-Ho. He never knew how badly his ignorance would hurt him.

  Thalia peered into the bottle resting in her lap, eyes flicked to his. “Thank you, Walter, truly.” She slid the bottle aside, sounding as if it were already emptied. “Had you not come to help us… I’d rather not imagine the consequences. What puzzles me is how… and why you have you journeyed this far alone?”

  He slowly shook his head. “Didn’t come alone. Traveled with a mercenary band, they were supposed to help us. In fact, they had helped us up until we got here. Alena paid him off, I think, the one you call the devil.” He beat his stump into his fist, instinctually embraced the Dragon, fire sparked to life behind his eye. “He’ll pay for his betrayal,” Walter said as if Scab were already tied up, awaiting the guillotine.

  Thalia gasped and inched back. She flashed hand signals to the guards, forestalling their movements.

  “Sorry, it’s part of me.” He let the Dragon’s rage slip from his grasp.

  “I think I see,” she slid close to him, bridging the gap and her features softening. “I am glad you did not lie to me.”

  “Wha-what do you mean? Why would I—?”

  “My scouts followed your group since you crossed Lich’s Falls, past the Woodland Plunge. Then the… Death Spawn arrived. We did not know why you came, if you were friend or enemy… then it didn’t matter. I watched them leave you. Watched you continue to march on against overwhelming foes. Your enemy is my enemy, and thus, we are allies.”

  “That’s it, then? You are resourceful,” Walter said. He felt lightheaded, sure he would be dizzy if he stood then.

  She was stunning, half her face cast in fire, lips parted and waiting for his. He leaned towards her, the sides of their legs pressed together and warm. Blood swelled in his prick. Her eyes seemed to glitter with excitement. He was split between abject sexual hunger and feelings of guilt like a tiny bud drowning in ginger tonic.

  “You, you look so familiar,” Vanya said, shuffling up to them. Walter pulled back from her. What was he thinking? “I know you… from somewhere.” She adjusted her headdress, ducking down and inspecting him.

  Thalia snorted with annoyance, but Vanya either missed it or ignored it.

  Walter cleared his throat, took a breath to gather himself. “You do? Don’t believe we’ve met before today.”

  “I knew your mother.” She sat down beside him, smiling softly. “Isabelle. Am I right?”

  Walter’s throat tightened up, swallowed. “Yes! Yes, you are. But, yes. I should have asked earlier, the exhaustion and… my father met her here, long before I was born, of course,” he laughed awkwardly, hearing his own words coming out in an ugly mess. The change in emotions was like a bucket of cold water to the face. He looked at Thalia, leaning over her knees with interest, breasts forming a wonderful furrow of cleavage. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to that.

  “She was my apprentice.” Vanya peered into the fire, seeming lost in memory. “She was one of the best students I ever had. A pity she had to go. She could mend a dislocated shoulder like no other; excellent at running sutures.”

  “But how did you know I was her son?” he asked. There were so many questions spilling through his pickled brain.

  Her mouth formed a series of wrinkles with her smile. “Boy, you are her. A little more masculine, but you have taken on her face.”

  “Wow,” he breathed. He hadn’t known there was any connection left to his former life. Had he spent more time asking them about their past and actually listening, he might have avoided this. He groaned and pushed his regrets into a corner of his mind.

  “How is she?” Vanya asked with a touch of excitement, gray curly hair tracing around her jaw.

  “Dead,” Walter said flatly. “Death Spawn came to Breden almost a year ago now. They killed her and my father.” He could almost say it now without getting choked up, maybe with the help of the alcohol.

  “That’s a shame. She was a wonderful surgeon; one of the best we’ve had in some time.”

  Something was off with what Vanya said. “You said she had to go. Why did she have to go?”

  He remembered then how his house in Breden had been ransacked, the apparent reason for the Death Spawn’s raid, according to Baylan. The Chains of the North, also called Bonesnapper, were supposedly once in a chest and buried in his cellar. It was the one relic that was known for its ability to harm Asebor. It was written that it had been forged in the Black Furnaces of the Nether after the seal of the Age of Dawn was erected, locking Asebor away in a Milvorian prison for ten thousand years. No one dared to try opening the seal to test the weapon, but the Tower wizards were convinced it would work. The trail to finding it had gone cold long ago. He had partitioned off that memory as something no longer useful. Every time the mystery of its whereabouts emerged, he’d pressed it back down. He wondered if maybe, just maybe there might be something here.

  Vanya crossed her arms. “I-I’m not sure. They, your mother and her betrothed… maybe your father, but I’m not sure, said they needed to leave after returning from a sabbatical to the Far Islands.”

  “Aiden? You knew my father too?” Walter asked, his heart thudding with excitement.

  “Yes, that might be it,” she nodded with a frown. “Aiden, he is — was — your father?” Vanya corrected. “I never met him, only saw them leaving the Great Tree.”

  “Yes.” Walter watched her, saw her eyes nervously scanning. Or perhaps the alcohol was skewing his perception, he couldn’t be sure, but it couldn’t hurt to dig deeper. Walter blew out his cheeks. “Did they… return with something?” He didn’t want to say the words, in case there were ears that shouldn’t hear it. He thought of the Metamorphose, taking on the shape of anyone. “Something old, something forged in ancient times?” She knows something, he thought.

  Vanya’s eyes burned with a hidden intellect, a keen knowing. “Come with me. I think you would like to see the Mother’s hut.”

  Chapter 15

  Discoveries

  “Life i
s an endless experiment. Find a laboratory, dispel the illusions, put your heart into what works.” -The Diaries of Nyset Camfield

  “Thalia?” Vanya asked.

  Thalia stood, eyes hard, and gestured for Vanya to lead. She sent signals to the guards, ordering them to stay to their obvious displeasure. The three of them marched up the stairs, Vanya in front and Thalia behind him. He thought he felt a hand brush his ass, but when he looked back, Thalia grinned at him and blinked her eyes with failed innocence. He would have laughed at her had he not been overwhelmed at the prospect that some answers about his family’s past may finally be revealed.

  They walked in silence, striding to the platform’s edge where the band played a melancholy song. They reached a suspension bridge that swayed as they walked, the tension of the agonized waiting was almost too much to bear. He wanted to stop Vanya right there, grab her shoulders, make her spit it out. But he could wait. He could control himself. He had waited this long. What was another few moments?

  The music and conversations faded down the bridge, sound swallowed in the abyss below their feet. The bridge was long, taking at least a few minutes to cross. A harmony of chirping frogs replaced the celebrations, carrying up from the bog. The wood creaked against the rope supports, vibration coursing through his body with every step. He hadn’t realized how much heat the fire was producing until they were well away from it. The cool northern air washed over their bare skin. Goosebumps prickled up and down his arms. A pair of torches burned at the other side of the bridge like a set of hellish eyes.

  It wasn’t surprising that he might find answers here, but it felt oddly serendipitous. He had traveled a lot of the realm now, but never visited the most obvious place, his mother’s home. Fate had swept him along on its perilous winds, struggling to survive and never having time for reflection. He was here now though and hoped he’d find what he needed.

  Vanya grabbed one of the torches from a sconce and used it to light another along their path. No one spoke. Walter felt a heaviness in their breathing. He stepped off the bridge, glad to be back on solid, unwavering wood. Thalia followed behind like a natural shadow.

  The bridge squeaked, sounding like it came from the other side. “Wait,” Walter whispered and held his hand out to signal to the women. They had already paused though, slid past him. Thalia’s face was stricken with alarm.

  Vanya stared into the darkness, unflinching. “Maybe a guard. Just a guard,” she said softly, sounding like she was trying to convince herself of it.

  Walter squinted into the enveloping shadows but didn’t find anything amiss. He inched his hand onto the handrail, vines intertwined to form a rugged rope. He closed his eye, feeling for the telltale vibration of someone grasping it. He sat there, eye closed, listening and feeling for a minute. The bridge swayed in the wind, gently creaking. The sound was relaxing, almost hypnotic. If he didn’t open his eye soon, he might slip into the arms of sleep.

  “Think it’s alright,” he said finally, taking in a steadying breath.

  “Slinking off in the night tends to make the senses over heightened, I think,” Thalia said.

  “The forest makes many peculiar noises in the hour of night. Are you satisfied now?” Vanya patiently smiled at him.

  Walter nodded, feeling like a fool.

  They approached a hut that was quite clearly built for a ruler. Its roof vaulted up in a steep angle, covered in wide overlapping leaves. It was almost as tall as a tree. The hut was wide, big enough to comfortably house at least twenty people, he guessed. Rows of Sand Buckeyes formed columns on either side of the entrance, serving as decorations much like the nobles did in Midgaard. What was it about a carnivorous plant that we all found so fascinating? he wondered.

  Vanya lit the last of the torches studding the path to the hut’s entrance, then stopped, waited.

  “This way,” Thalia broke the next stretch of quiet, entering first through the hut’s entryway. She took the torch from Vanya, lighting a torch inside. Light bloomed and illuminated the hut’s curious innards.

  They entered a small antechamber, hallways going to the left and right. There was a painting on the wall depicting the Great Tree, speckled with blood red blossoms. The walls were a series of tightly packed bamboo, the gaps sealed by what looked to be a hardened mud and fibrous mixture. The building materials were primitive, but there was an attention to detail in the craftsmanship that Walter appreciated. He could see that the wood was carefully selected, free from mold spots and other blemishes.

  “The Great Tree flowers?” Walter asked, following them through the stubby hallway, spilling out into a circular room. Vanya walked around it, touching the torch to iron sconces melted into the shapes of trees.

  “It does. It is a sight to behold. It blooms in summer for just a week. Perhaps you will return to see it?” Thalia asked, hands on hips.

  “I’d like that.” Walter smiled. He had the feeling that once he left the Great Retreat, it would be a long time before he would return.

  Vanya put the torch she carried into an empty sconce and closed the heavy wooden latch on the front door.

  “Why did you do that?” Thalia asked with bewilderment.

  “There is a reason for my strange actions, child,” Vanya said, coming back to the room.

  “Come, sit,” Thalia gestured to a table as high as his knees with nothing to sit on around it.

  Walter scratched his head and half-smiled. “Hm.” He was exhausted, his vision going blurry whenever it had the opportunity to rest.

  Thalia snickered, dropped into a low squat in front of the table. Thankfully she did ensure her skirts kept her covered, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to focus on anything else otherwise.

  Walter squatted down on one side of the table, lost his balance and keeled over onto his back with a soft thump. The world swam, colors spinning. He looked up at the trusses marching along the roof line. They fanned out like the broad tail feathers of a bird, each spoke carved in dizzying patterns. “Nice carvings,” Walter said with drunken wonder.

  Thalia giggled, showing a part of her Walter didn’t know she had. Vanya trudged over to him, dragging him up onto his bottom. “I’m fine, really, I’m fine,” Walter protested. The torches swayed, leaving streaks of amber in his vision. “Wow, the torches… they’re so pretty.”

  Vanya glared at Thalia, maybe giving her some type of scolding.

  “No, no.” Walter reached out with his hand. “This is,” he belched. “This is my fault. That gingery whatever goes down too well. Please remind me… what are we doing here again? Oh, wait. I know!” He raised his index finger above his head. “You’re going to tell me something?”

  Vanya was on her knees, staring into his eye. How long had she been here? How long had he been here? “Walter. I need you to focus, embrace the powers of the gods if you must.”

  “Focus, right,” he said with mock sternness. He embraced the powers. They both felt muted and almost in harmony. It was an unfamiliar sensation. He’d always felt them both there when he reached for them, but the Dragon was always the overwhelming presence for him. Maybe there was something about the alcohol that evened out some hidden anger and pain.

  “Good,” Vanya said. “Are you with me now?”

  Walter nodded, the graveness to her voice penetrating through his alcoholic film.

  “Resuming our last conversation, about your mother,” Vanya nodded.

  Thalia shifted and sat on her hands, watching Walter.

  “Right,” Walter said, remembering the conversation thread. It felt like it had been hours ago.

  “Your mother did find something in the Far Islands.” Vanya let the words settle on the air. A few crickets chirped in a dark section of the room, behind a potted fern he thought.

  “Well?” He knew what she was going to say, but he needed to hear it.

  “They found…” she dropped her voice. “A weapon. I know not the proper name, but I believe it was what practitioners of the Sid-Ho style call
a lash. It had three chains attached to a single handle.”

  “The Chains of the North,” Walter whispered and felt like ants were crawling over his neck. He even went as far as scratching, finding nothing but his puckering skin.

  “What is the significance of this?” Thalia asked, her brows drawn and mouth working to ferret out the meaning.

  Vanya shrugged at Thalia. “I don’t know, but your mother did, perhaps your father as well.” She turned to Walter. “She told me it was a relic, and that she had to go and hide it, but told me no more. Said for my own safety.”

  “She knew what it was,” he said distantly. “All this time, all my life, one of the most valuable treasures in the realm was sitting in the earth below me.”

  Thalia and Vanya shared curious looks.

  “You know more about this relic?” Thalia leaned over the table.

  “Y-yes,” Walter said, his throat dry. “Baylan, an old friend, said it’s the only weapon reputed to be able to harm, to kill Asebor.”

  Thalia shook her head with exasperation, the feathers on her headdress swooshing against her back.

  Walter continued. “Only someone like myself can use it to its true potential, a dual-wielder as we say, someone who has been gifted with the touch from both of the gods.”

  Vanya opened her mouth to speak, hesitating, then started again. “She said something about that weapon that’s always been with me over the years, some memories never shake away and all.” Vanya met Walter’s eyes. “She told me that it was lethal.”

  “Of course, lethal to—”

  Vanya cut him off. “The wielder.”

  The room went quiet. He would not die again. He knew he wouldn’t survive another trip to the Shadow Realm. They would be ready, waiting for him. “Maybe there was another way. I’ve harmed Asebor before with my power,” Walter protested.

  Thalia hissed. “Do not say his—”

  “Or I may find you,” a voice rasped from behind the door. The familiar voice cut through him like the sharpest of blades. It pinned him to the floor, paralyzing his body and scrambling his mind.