by B. A. Scott
“I’ll teach you,” she said.
“Wha-?” Gabrel jumped at her presence. “You will?”
“Yes,” said Kade. “Who knows what dangers await on the road ahead? It’s unfair of my grandfather to keep you without the means to protect yourself, especially from using so powerful a tool as magic. This will be the night of your first wielding, Gabrel. Our people call it Senconju Eprim. Now, remove your armor.”
“What?” Gabrel asked.
“Off with it,” Kade reiterated. “And your shirt as well.”
Gabrel obliged in silence. As he removed his armor, he saw the Enchantress give Athiux a defiant look as the Sage watched on disapprovingly. When Gabrel took off his shirt, Kade noticed a tattoo in the center of his upper back—the letter “C”—the sickle-shaped crest of the Caladen family.
“You’ve a marking upon your back,” she voiced her surprise.
“Yeah,” Gabrel said. “It’s our crest. Kaven has it too—all Caladens get it when they’re born.”
“I’ve seen it in my studies,” said Kade. “Every portrait and statue of Genus Caladen I’ve ever seen shows him with this symbol blazoned across his shield. Not only that, but legends tell of one of the first Human children being born with the mark.”
“Is that so?” Gabrel asked. “Well, I’ve stripped down for you. Shall we get on with the lesson?”
“Yes,” Kade said. “So, there are two kinds of magic—elemental and fundamental. Elemental magic is performed with the gifts of the fountains: Wave, Gale, Revival, Verdure, Suspension, Fury and Flame. Fundamental magic, on the other hand, is more instinctive—you’re already capable of wielding it. With a pressure spell, you could crack an egg as if you were squeezing it in the palm of your hand. Or burst a bag of grain like it was filled with Fire Pearls. Likewise, summoning spells—calling an object to you, impellment spells—forcing them away, and shield spells function very similarly, as they are all controlled by your very will. Tonight, you will learn how to use such fundamental magic to protect yourself.”
Kade stepped back from Gabrel, filled herself with magic and held out her hand. She conjured a shield of magic before her that nearly made the brothers stumble backward. It was golden and semi-translucent—almost like water—with dancings of light upon it like those made by the sun on the floor of a shallow pond. Its edges faded into the night air like waves dissipating upon a sandy shoreline.
“That’s pretty incredible,” Gabrel said. Kade released her magic, causing the shield to vanish.
“Kneel,” she instructed, taking a few steps back from Gabrel. “Kaven, give him room. Will you put his armor behind one of those trees?” Kaven obliged, and overheard Kade give an order to the Erygian warriors. “Guard the perimeter, just in case,” she told them, then took a deep breath, and filled herself with magic. A cool breeze flowed through the camp. Kade stood with eyes aglow, and her arms spread slightly from her hips, palms forward, as the breeze blew from behind her straight toward Gabrel.
“Let it fill you,” Kade said. Gabrel’s eyes closed. When he reopened them, they were bright white orbs. Kade’s fingers moved as though they felt silk slide between them. “Now,” said the Enchantress, “shield yourself.”
“How? Against what?” Gabrel asked. But moments after he spoke, he heard a rustling in the trees behind Kade. The swishing of leaves and bending and snapping of branches announced an approaching wind, which grew like a massive wave speeding toward the coast, until at last it was upon him.
A thunderous roaring consumed the camp as the mighty wind arrived. Kaven quickly ducked behind the trunk of a thick tree as a mass of crooked limbs, leaves and rocks swept through the encampment. Then, he looked to Gabrel, who was leaning forward, attempting to keep himself from being blown away. The campfire had vanished, Gabrel’s trousers were shredded, and his skin was bloodied by deep gashes. Gabrel dug his boot toes into the earth. He felt his skin breaking with every slash from even the smallest of passing twigs.
“Make it stop!” he screamed, but Kade did not accommodate the request. Gabrel shut his eyes. Dust and dirt stung them, and his tears were taken from him before they could be made useful.
Gabrel heard the cracking and uprooting of tree trunks, and an upheaving of wind knocked him to his back. He pushed himself back up with one hand, and reached out with his other, as though his open palm possessed the power to still the winds.
Protect yourself, Gabrel thought. When he opened his eyes, he noticed a strange yellow-orange light emanating from a small, pea-sized shield of magic, hovering only a few inches from his outstretched palm. He moved his hand from side to side, and the shield moved with it. Gabrel focused his thoughts on protecting himself against the winds, and as he did, the tiny shield grew in size. When it spread larger than the size of his hand, he felt immediate relief from the winds upon his face.
The shield of magic was similar to the one Kade produced earlier, but was much smaller, and thinner in essence. Gabrel fed his magic into it, making it grow, and with every second that passed, less wind, rocks and limbs struck him. For a moment, he felt he’d finished the lesson. But then, in the distance, he noticed a branch tumbling through the trees behind Kade that was large enough to smash him to bits.
“Grow,” Gabrel urged himself. “Now!” He gritted his teeth, and concentrated hard. He watched as the branch flew through the air, and spun around the Enchantress. Only moments before it collided with him, a low vwoom filled the night air as Gabrel ignited the shield into a small half-dome around him.
The branch shattered to pieces upon smashing into the shield, and not a single one of its splinters touched Gabrel’s skin. But just when he thought he had everything under control, the winds picked up. He could feel the shield weakening. Tiny hairline fractures formed in its center like those on an eggshell. It was breaking, he realized. The magic in the winds was too great. He saw Kade keep one hand at her side, but lift her other arm, and thrust it toward him.
“Oh shit,” Gabrel said, just as a bolt of lightning burst from the Enchantress’s outstretched hand. It struck the shield like a falling tree crashing to the ground, and Gabrel could feel its devastating force upon his palm. It was too much for him. The shield cracked and shattered, disappearing into the air. And upon its breaking, Gabrel was thrown back against the forest floor.
Kade relinquished her power and calmed the winds. She stepped forward, helped Gabrel to his knees, and cupped her hand to the wounded ambassador’s jaw. Gabrel gasped, as though the Enchantress’s fingers were made of ice.
Light ignited from Kade’s palm. And Gabrel’s skin absorbed it like a dry sponge tasting water for the first time. Wherever Gabrel’s skin was broken, rays of red light burst free, like sunlight through cracks in a wooden door.
Gabrel found it difficult to move his body, though he felt a wonderfully strange sensation spreading through him. It felt like he was being dipped into a cool, refreshing stream, and the undulating waters of which glided past his skin and through his veins.
Slowly, the wounds on Gabrel’s body healed. His skin closed around the rays until they vanished beneath his flesh. When every scrape and gash had disappeared, the Enchantress took her hand away from Gabrel’s jaw.
“Gale, from the Fountain of Parsali in Valea. Fury, from the Fountain of Evindar in Caleton, and Revival, from the Fountain of Sae Lenar in the Woods of Warruntyne,” Kade told Gabrel, informing him of where she had attained the powers she had just used.
“Fury—is lightning?” Gabrel asked. “That’s the power Lord Daro wants? It almost ended me! My shield was too weak to stop it.”
“Half of magic is emotion,” Athiux entered the conversation, stepping out from the shadows.
“I thought you weren’t going to teach me anything tonight,” Gabrel said.
“Its essence is like a muscle,” Athiux continued. “It must be toned over time.”
“As you develop it, you will see its strength grow and blossom,” Kade added. “In the beginning, most
find it necessary to use their hands—as you did with your shield. But magic is always in the mind. Though, only the most masterful of wielders ever achieve the level of conjuring entirely out of pure thought. It is something even my grandfather has yet to fully manage.”
“Thank you,” Gabrel told her, “for teaching me. Is there anything else I need to know?”
Kade hesitated before answering with a shaky voice, “Actually, y-yes.”
“What is it?” Gabrel asked. Kade paused even longer, and Gabrel thought he saw tears pooling in her eyes.
“Kade—” Athiux spoke warningly.
“I’m sorry, Gabrel,” said the Enchantress. “But I have to kill you.”
Table of Contents
Chapter 14: The Skael’akron
“You Erygians have a strange sense of humor,” Gabrel said. But when Kade lifted her gaze, he saw rivers pouring from her eyes. “My god, you’re serious?” he asked, backing away from her. He reached for his sword, but realized he’d removed it when he took off his armor.
Kade looked to Athiux, who had fire in his eyes. Kaven rushed to Gabrel’s side, sword in hand. As soon as he pointed it at Kade’s neck, several of the Erygian warriors closed in from the encampment’s perimeter, and drew their weapons.
“What are you talking about?” Kaven asked.
“The Enchanters ordered me to kill you after my grandfather gets the information he wants.”
“Silence, Kade!” Athiux commanded.
“What?!” Gabrel yelled. “Why?!”
“To maintain the purity of Erygian blood,” said Kade. “Any offspring as the result of crossbreeding is to be smeared from this world.” She glared at Athiux, and wiped her tears. “It’s law for your people as well.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” said Gabrel. “No one does it.”
“That you know of,” said Kade. “I’ll tell you why no one ever told you you’re part Erygian, Gabrel. It’s really very simple.”
“Kade, enough!” Athiux protested. “Stop this at once!”
“They were protecting you,” Kade spoke. “If anyone ever found out, you’d pay the price.”
“And you’re the one who will do it?” Gabrel asked. “Is that why you taught me the shield spell just now? So at least I could fight back? I hope that relieves your guilty conscience.”
“It doesn’t,” Kade muttered.
“Then why are you telling me?!” Gabrel shouted. “Why would you warn me?”
Kade looked him in the eye. “Because you have a right to know,” she said. “And because,” she fumbled over her words, “because I don’t think I can do it. Which means someone else might try.”
Gabrel and Kaven looked to the Sage.
“We trusted you,” Gabrel said. “We trusted you. Both of you. And the whole time, you’ve been waiting to kill us?”
“I can’t believe it,” Kaven said, his anger shaking the sword tip at Kade’s neck. “Gabe, we’re not safe with these people.”
“Are you suggesting we go off on our own?” Gabrel asked. “Is that safer?”
“Do you have a better idea?” Kaven responded, wary of the warriors inching toward him. “What do you expect us to do? Stay here and sleep with our eyes open? Ride with our heads on a swivel?”
“I assure you, we’ll not harm you before you reach Caleton,” said the Sage. “You have my word.”
“Oh, your word,” Kaven said scornfully. “Well, now I believe you.”
“If this were a lie, you would be dead already,” said Athiux. “Your father’s information is all that is keeping you alive at the moment.”
“Right, like we’re going to get him to tell you anything now,” Kaven said.
“If you refuse, then I’ll be having the Tears of Life back,” said the Sage. He extended his hand toward Gabrel. “And you’ll die where you stand.”
Gabrel considered the situation.
“You’ve put us in a pretty bad place,” he said. “We can’t trust you. But I don’t want to travel alone either.” He put his hand on Kaven’s sword, and pressed it away from Kade. Kaven let his blade fall, though his glare never left the Enchantress. “What about my child?” Gabrel asked. Kade refused to answer, looking to her grandfather. Athiux retracted his hand, then spoke gravely.
“I believe you already know the answer to that question.”
* * * * *
“You look nervous,” Treäbu told Dareic, who’d checked his buttons and armor clasps at least 10 times in the last few minutes. They waited anxiously in a large chamber of grey stone, which birthed a lengthy torch-lined hallway.
“I think I’d rather fight another Golgril,” replied Dareic, fidgeting and shaking his nerves from his skin. “Who are these ‘Skael’akron’ we’re about to see?”
“They are the wisest of the wisest,” Treäbu said. “All issues concerning the Skaelar are discussed and decided upon by them, and their judgment is never questioned.”
“Oh,” said Dareic, not feeling any more optimistic about trying to convince them to send an army halfway across Adoran. “I’ve heard people call you ‘Treäbu... Skael’adar?’” Dareic half-said, half-asked.
“Skael’adar are warriors, protectors and hunters. Half the Skaelar population is Skael’adar.”
“And the other half?”
“Skael’atere,” Treäbu told him. “Civilians. They see to the duties of the city. Building, cleaning, nurturing, crafting—every Skaelar is integral.”
“And where does the Skaelar Sage fit into all this?”
Treäbu smiled. “He is everything.”
“Then he’s one of the Skael’akron,” Dareic deducted.
Treäbu nodded.
“Wonderful,” Dareic said to himself.
The distant call of a horn resounded. Wood creaked as light poured into the hallway before them, and Dareic’s ears told him that it would not be the council alone who would hear his words, for the boisterous echoing of a thousand Skaelar voices reverberated through the torch-lit corridor.
“They’re ready,” Treäbu said. He and Dareic entered the hallway, which ended in a flight of ornately carved steps that led up through an opening in the ceiling. At the foot of the steps, Dareic and Treäbu stopped, staring up at the light above them.
“Why are you here with me? Dareic asked.
“You’ll see,” Treäbu responded.
When they finally ascended the steps, they emerged into an enormous arena, filled with Skaelar. Dareic realized he had been grossly inaccurate in thinking there were merely a thousand in the chamber. There had to be at least ten times that many, for a sea of green met his eyes.
He and Treäbu stood upon a circular platform, which lay in the very center of the vast arena. Before him, the Skael’akron sat in high thrones of beautifully shaped vines that circumscribed the central platform, though they were separated from it by a gap, three paces wide. Light shone down upon the central platform through an oculus in the arena’s domed ceiling, which was fashioned from great tree branches, criss-crossed and intertwined.
Upon Dareic and Treäbu’s entrance, what began as a roaring clamor from the crowd, subsided into a bustle of curious whisperings. Already waiting for them on the platform was the Skael’adar that Dareic had mistaken as a statue when he arrived at Skaelwood.
“This is the Human who entered our domain,” the Skaelar said, “Dareic Caladen.” The Skael’akron studied Dareic intently. They wore garments on their heads that forced their long tendrils down and back. Simple robes of reddish brown complemented the color of their skin, and each wore crafted jewelry. Only one of the Skael’akron appeared significantly different from the others, for he alone wore robes trimmed in gold.
The Sage, Dareic thought, just as the Skaelar spoke. “I am Ralian Sheen, Sage of the Skaelar, and these are the council of Skael’akron—Shahc’du, Evissian, Raia and Kilo. Treäbu Skael’adar,” the Sage continued, “why have you left your station prematurely in the Woods of Warruntyne?”
“Skae
l’akron,” Treäbu spoke, “the Tyken have been slaughtered. Lord Daro has taken hold of all lands surrounding Warruntyne.” The crowd gasped, and it took a moment for the Skael’akron to hush their commotion.
“You are certain of this?” asked Shahc’du, one of the female Skael’akron.
“Unquestionably,” he replied. “I witnessed the massacre myself, and informed King Mercer of Daro’s threat.”
“You’ve spoken with Mercer?” asked Ralian curiously. Treäbu nodded. “Then this Human’s purpose is made clear.”
“What is your assessment of him?” asked Kilo, one of the male Skael’akron.
“He is...” Treäbu began in Skalen, so Dareic would not understand his words, “quick to foolishness, impulsive and undisciplined.” Soft murmurs spread through the crowd.
“Well that doesn’t sound good,” Dareic thought out loud.
“But,” Treäbu continued in his native tongue, “I must tell you this. The day I met this Human, he saved my life. And during our journey here, he had the chance to save himself—to leave me in a fight against a deadly beast, yet he chose to risk his life on my behalf. His valor is unrivaled by any Human I have ever met. His mind is as sharp as any Skaelar blade. And now, even without a bond of honor,” the tone of his voice turned very serious, “I would protect his life. I ask that you consider his request with open minds and open hearts.”
Dareic couldn’t tell whether Treäbu had complimented him, or doomed him to death, for the arena fell completely silent.
“Caladen,” spoke the Sage. “Fulfill your purpose here.” Dareic stepped toward the Sage’s throne, and pulled Ralindur’s call for aid from his belt pouch. When he reached the edge of the platform, he stretched his arm out to the Sage. But he could not reach the high seat. Nor did the Sage attempt to reach down to him. Then, Dareic suddenly felt the scroll pull away from his hand. The moment he saw the Sage’s eyes aglow, he released the rolled parchment, and watched as it floated effortlessly up to the Skaelar.
