by David Ekrut
He closed his eyes and let the coughing giggles take over. Turning his cheek, he leaned his face against the wall to feel the cold of stone on his skin. It took some of the sting away from where Lana had struck him.
“What are her plans?” Lana demanded.
He kept his eyes closed. Though the laughter finally subsided, he kept smiling. He could sleep if it was quiet for long enough.
“You will talk.” He could feel the heat in her words. “By the Seeker you will talk.”
He felt the sickening power of Death enter her. He was not sure how, but he had not felt the vileness on her until this moment. Power flowed off of her and began to cover his skin. He opened his eyes to see a black fog rolling over him. Darkness enveloped him.
Pain.
He felt as if his flesh melted and fire entered his lungs. It choked him and shook him. He heard a scream in the distance and his throat burned.
Moments stretched into an eternity. Then as abruptly as it began, the fog and pain vanished. It took him a few heartbeats to realize he was still screaming. He clenched his teeth and wiped at his arms to brush away the lingering pain. He expected to see his flesh melted away, but there was no trace or hint of damage to his skin. The air around him felt cooler than it had before the fog.
Lana loomed before him. “Tell me what you know.”
He forced a smile onto his face, met her gaze, and laughed at her. This time his laugh was deliberate. It held no mirth, but it made her unleash her fury in truth. Maybe this time she would kill him. Either way, he counted this day a victory. Athina had escaped.
The darkness covered him once more.
A lone figure stood atop the tallest balcony of the palace, looking down at the night-covered city of Alcoa. The terrace provided a vantage like none other in the known world.
Below the guarded rail, lights escaped broad windows in rows of shining arcs. As the eye moved away from the tall spires of the castle toward the noble’s houses of the inner city, the arcs became dots of white against a black canvas. Moving beyond the gates into the outer city, the lights turned to congruous rows of lights that parted the darkness to reveal taverns, inns, and cobblestone stretching as far as the eye could see.
Alcoa, the capital city of the Alcoan nation, spanned over thirty miles across. This night, every inch of the city would be alive with people.
From the vantage high above the city, the citizens of Alcoa seemed little more than dark masses moving as one, but the sounds of merriment reached the balcony in echoes of loud music and raucous laughter. The same sounds had reached this balcony countless times before.
Two hundred twenty-seven rulers had stood upon its terrace, watching the city below. King Thirod Alcoa, the fourth of his name had ruled the greatest city for a decade to the day.
A tall man of regal posture, Thirod leaned against the balcony and watched his city in quiet anticipation. Any moment, the night would become alive with the Artificers’ firework display. He had hired them to celebrate the evening.
As if on cue, every known color burst into the sky as the artificers released their fireworks with intricate explosions. Bright arcs and balls carved pictures into the night’s black canvas. Next, a yellow crown as large as his castle exploded into existence. Alcoa recognized the tribute to his patronage, as would his subjects.
A sequence of explosions followed, displaying a variety of iconic images. A circle divided into equal quarters of red, brown, white, and blue held a yellow rose bud at its center. As old as his nation, this was the symbol of Alcoa and the Sacred Order.
The moment in which the last spark of the symbol faded, the next explosions settled in the form of two right hands clasping forearms. This was another tribute to Alcoa and the peace he brought to the lands. Upon gaining the throne, Alcoa had forged a treaty with his neighboring nations. Where his father had failed, Thirod the fourth had succeeded. He smiled at the thought.
Under the Treaty of the Sacred Order, the world now knew peace. Every nation had signed it, even if some of those signatures had been persuaded to the point of coercion. Ten years this day, all Life loving people had known a world free of war and pain.
As the clasping hands dissolved, a great sword cut into the sky. In place of the hilt, balancing scales jutted out on either side of the handle. This symbol came from the island nation of Justice across the Tranquil Sea. Despite the distance, the small nation had been Thirod’s strongest supporter, pulling the rest of the Island Nations into the treaty.
Following Justice was the symbol of Kalicodon, a fist grasping a snake’s head. This nation had been the most difficult to attain. The tribes of Kalicodon refused to abolish slavery. In truth, slavery was as much a part of Kalicodian society as elementalists were a part of Alcoa’s. The tribes of Kalicodon made slaves of one another as one tribe conquered the other. In time, slaves could earn their freedom in the pits, where they made slaves fight one another in an arena for sport. Yes, it seemed barbaric. Thirod would never tolerate such acts within his own kingdom. But allowing an ally to keep customs and traditions was not the same as advocating slavery. His father could not see this truth.
Thirod shook his head. Several symbols had flashed in the sky, but lost in his thoughts, he had missed them. Cheers reached his ears from the streets below. His people had not missed the display, and that was what mattered. This festival was for them. They needed to feel the reminder of the peace he had given to them. Tonight at the height of summer, they celebrated peace and Life.
His people would sing, dance, and drink the Summer Solstice away in both the inner and outer city. He had chartered every inn and tavern to give free drinks to all for the celebration. The lowliest of his people would enjoy the vibrance of Life as much as the highest this night. They needed this, so he owed it to them as their benefactor.
This was his kingdom.
People of many nations had come to his city and his lands seeking many things. His was the most vast and powerful kingdom in the known world.
Alcoa took a deep breath and smiled. “This is my doing. Father, even you would be proud.”
“Would he be proud?” A deep voice spoke from behind him.
Alcoa opened his essence to the Elemental power of Air. He spun into the room, preparing to tame a lightning hurl, but he stopped upon seeing his intruder.
“Bain?” Thirod whispered.
A ghost stood before him. Had he gone mad?
Bain wore black, leather armor with a dark cloak made of silk. The symbol upon the man’s chest made Thirod gasp. A black fist clutched a red dragon. Such symbols were bad omens or scrawled on the doors of the condemned houses of plague victims. This was not the Solsec family crest, but he could not mistake his childhood friend. Bain rested a casual hand upon the hilt of a scimitar.
“Bain,” Alcoa said. “I thought—”
“You thought I was dead,” Bain said.
Thirod had sent Bain into an unwelcoming land in search for artifacts of power. All these years, he had thought his friend dead. Bain, his closest friend, was alive! Thirod released the power he held and felt the Air push back into the room.
With arms wide open, he approached Bain. “I had given up hope.”
Bain took a step backward and raised a hand to halt Thirod’s approach. “There are events, which we need to discuss.”
“Yes,” Alcoa said, gesturing toward the balcony, “perhaps we should sit.”
“I prefer to stand for the moment.” Bain’s smile held no mirth.
Something didn’t feel right. Then a thought occurred to Alcoa. “How did you get past the guards and my wards? Even in times of peace, they are always in place. I can still feel the Elemental wards in tact.”
Bain smiled. “I have learned many things over the past seven years.”
“Why have you only just come to me? And like this?” Alcoa said. “Where have you been?”<
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“I found something valuable on my last mission.”
Found something? Bain had been alive all these years. Still searching. Why had he not sent word? He opened his mouth to voice his questions, but Bain continued before he could form the words.
“Something that we have sought our entire lives to find.”
“You found an artifact of power,” Thirod said, “something from before the Shadow Wars?”
“I have found that and more.” Bain’s dark eyes glittered in the light of the fireworks.
Could it be? Could he have found the Orb of Inra? Something like that would ensure the success of his kingdom for the rest of time. Not even the Awakening could be a match against such an artifact.
When it was clear Bain would say no more, Alcoa said, “All this time I have mourned you for dead. You must allow me to welcome you properly. Please let us sit.”
Bain took a few steps further into the room and stared at Thirod for several moments. “I have found Abaddon’s castle in a land unclaimed by any. The castle bears my crest, and I have come to declare those lands the nation of Bain.”
“What?”
He had not drank that much wine, but his mouth felt dry and his tongue thick. Nothing seemed to make sense to him. What was he hearing? Bain and he were cousins. Of an age with one another, they had grown up as brothers. Bain and he had been trained together in the Elements by Jhona Solsec, Bain’s brother.
Bain hadn’t aged a day. The face before him looked the same as the day he had left. But who was this man? An image of a friend he had given up for dead, now declaring himself a nation?
“This is not the proper venue, my friend. We are celebrating p—”
“Celebrating what?” Bain did not raise his voice, but his tone was cold as iron. “Our kind are dying. All the while, you let these fools, the so-called Guardians of Life, snuff out the powers of the Elements. Fanatics, who would as soon destroy any gifted as save them, hunt our kind, and you let the vermin nest in your very castle. What is there to celebrate?”
Thirod’s mouth worked, but nothing came from his lips. No thoughts seemed to hold. No one had spoken to him like this in years. Not since … No one had addressed King Alcoa in such an informal manner since the day Bain left. From any other person in his kingdom, Thirod Alcoa would have never allowed such blatant insolence.
“Bain,” Alcoa said in a calm voice, “the Guardians of Life hunt down Death bound and those who violate the Laws of Power, and they ensure our survival. That is their purpose. Nothing more. Their sect is almost as old as my nation and the Sacred Order. As old as the Shadow Wars. I did not make these laws. I only uphold them, as my father did and his before him. You know this.”
Bain snorted. “They are like a weed choking the life out of a fruitful garden. Any weed allowed to grow freely will topple even the greatest plant. Over the last two thousand years, they have made accusations and convictions in a single breath. The sentencing for any crime against the Laws of Power is execution. And now fewer gifted are in the world than ever before with the Awakening upon us.”
“Nonsense,” Alcoa said. “The Awakening cannot happen until there is born an elementalist that is true. That has not happened yet. You know the prophecy better than any.”
“Athina gave me a child.” Bain’s smile sent chills down Alcoa’s spine. “The child has a spark of power in him so great that he will rival any who have lived in the past three thousand years. He will be the one to fulfill the first prophecy. We both know that if Athina has a Seeing that it will come to pass.”
The first prophecy? It couldn’t be. Not yet.
He started to repeat his thoughts aloud, but instead he shook his head and said, “She is still alive as well?”
“Jhona, Lana, Zeth. Even Fasuri, Ferious, and Mordeci. All of your old generals have joined me.”
Bain had to be lying, but there he stood. And he had seen none of the rest since before they set out on that Life-forsaken journey.
“Finally,” Bain said. “You feel regret for sending me on that cursed mission. Did you really think we would fight the Vampire Legion in their own lands to search for trinkets?”
“You never fought them?”
“Of course not,” Bain said. “I parlayed with them and barely escaped with my life. But I knew I could not return here. The night before I left, He came to me and showed me the way.”
“He?”
“I knew I could not return.” Bain’s words floated somewhere in his mind, as if this was some bad dream. The fireworks still boomed in the background, mocking his earlier thoughts of peace.
“I was not bound to Him, but He guided me still.”
“Enough,” Thirod said. “Do you not see what is happening to you? The Seeker of Souls is more gifted in twisting words than the most renowned orator. He is tricking you into giving him your soul. I can feel the reverence in your voice even as you speak of him.”
Bain stepped closer. He was just more than an arm’s length away when he spoke. “Shouldn’t we revere those with power?”
This could not be happening. His thoughts raced. He had to capture Bain and make him see reason. As long as his soul remained free, there would still be hope for him. Pushing thoughts from his mind, Thirod made his decision.
He opened his essence to Air with the intentions to use its power to hold Bain in place.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Bain said in a voice that gave Thirod pause. “I did not come to fight you today.”
“Why then? To declare that you are no longer my subject? You are my friend. If you wish to declare yourself a nation, then I will fully endorse you. I will mark lands for you to—”
“I came to give you a choice,” Bain said. “You can disband the Guardians of Life and swear your allegiance to me, and I will leave your nation to your rule.”
Though Bain had not moved against him, Thirod flinched as if slapped.
Let him rule his nation?
And the Guardians of Life were more numerous than even his own army, and half of them were in his nation. He could not disband them without a civil war, even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t.
Alcoa made his voice like steel. “Or?”
Bain leaned forward and said just louder than a whisper, “I will unleash my armies and my power and tear your nation down around you.”
Thirod clenched his jaw closed. He had sent his friend and so many others to battle the vampires, who were rumored to have artifacts of power. They were to be the last great victory to bring the known world to a true peace. His actions had been a fool’s arrogance. After Bain’s disappearance, he had assumed the worst. For over seven years he had felt the pain of regret for nothing. And now, his childhood friend had come to betray him? That had been Bain’s purpose all along. Anger took hold of Thirod.
Taming Air to hold Bain, he shouted, “Guards!”
As threads of Air formed around Bain to hold him, soft wisps of light merged with Bain and a lash of Air knocked the threads into pieces. Thirod continued shouting for the guards, sending more bindings of Air to hold Bain. Without a hint of concern on his face, Bain knocked each attack aside with his own thin lashes of Air.
Bain tamed flight while countering Thirod’s attacks, his body lifting slowly into the air.
Pulling more Air into his essence, Alcoa willed his body to move to the expanse between Bain and the balcony. He felt sweat drip down his face from the exertion, but he did not let up on his attacks. “GUARDS!”
“You have made the wrong decision,” Bain said calmly.
Bain smirked then became a blur of motion, moving faster than Thirod’s eyes could track. A rush of wind forced Thirod to turn toward the balcony. Bain hovered just outside, above the terrace. Behind him, the fireworks illuminated the darkness.
Alcoa blinked several times to be sure it had actually happened. He had be
en sure he had felt a burst of Air, Earth, Fire, and Water released from Bain. Thirod wanted to reason out what had happened, but Bain didn’t give him the chance.
“Verinda looks as lovely as ever,” Bain said. His smirk deepened into a smile that did not touch his eyes. “Your oldest boy looks more like you though.”
Thirod felt a lump in his throat that tasted like bile. Verinda had taken the boys to the wharf to watch the display of fireworks over the ocean.
“If you have harmed them …,” his voice shook.
Bain raised a hand in a placating motion. “Do not fear. I have not harmed them. If I were to kill them, who would remain to watch your fall? Even after, I may yet them live.”
Thirod began to tame Air, forming a lightning hurl in his mind. Before the power could reach his grasp, a force hit his essence like an avalanche and ripped his power from his grasp. The flow of Air sustaining his flight vanished, and he fell the few feet to the floor. His feet hit before he had time to adjust to the fall, and his knee collapsed with a crunch. He gritted his teeth against the pain, so he would not cry out.
The pain in his knee throbbed, but that was not what held him on the floor looking up at Bain through wide eyes. Bain had taken his essence. Thirod had been filled with the power of Air and aware of Bain, and still the other man had handled him as he would a child new to his powers.
Thirod met Bain’s eyes. The Frozen Plains had more compassion in its icy wasteland.
“Before I take your life,” Bain said, “you will see your nation in ruins. Your allies will become mine. Verinda and your children will grovel at my feet and beg for mercy. I will break their wills to mine, then I will rebuild your kingdom in my image and destroy the plague in its midst. You will live in the dungeons beneath this castle, begging for death. Only then, will you die by my hands.”
Alcoa blinked, and Bain was gone.
It took several moments before Thirod tested his essence. His power was his own once more. He sat for a moment, watching the colorful display without letting his eyes focus on any of the images.
