by B. A. Scott
“Where did you go?” Gabrel asked.
“You’re seriously making friendly conversation right now—with her?” Kaven berated his brother.
“Yes. I am,” Gabrel spoke sternly.
“I wanted to drink from as many fountains as possible,” said Kade. “I set out for Skaelwood first, then the Woods of Warruntyne, Caleton and Valea. One day, I hope to make it to the Northlands, and acquire Suspension from the Fountain of Phorian Mai. But such a journey is no mere stroll to the market, and I’ve always had more pressing matters to attend to.”
“What powers did you get from all those fountains?” Gabrel asked.
“Verdure from Skaelwood,” said Kade, “Revival from Warruntyne, Fury from Caleton, and Gale from Valea.”
“What’s Gale?” asked Gabrel.
“Think about how we revealed the entrance to the junakothari.”
Gabrel tried to remember. “Something with the winds?” he asked.
“Close enough,” Kade confirmed. She then lifted her shoulder armor to reveal a tattooed symbol on her upper left shoulder. Kaven, paranoid of the swift movement, grabbed the hilt of his sword.
“Go on,” Gabrel said, shaking his head at Kaven.
“I’ve a marking to commemorate my acquisition of Gale,” said Kade. “And this one,” she pointed to her wrist, “says ‘chosen.’ It was given to me after my spirisortium by the Enchanters. I have other markings—some meaningful, some merely decoration—but they’re concealed at the moment.”
“The only one Kaven and I have is the one you’ve already seen—on our backs,” said Gabrel.
“I bet you never knew that, as you and your brother share the same tattoo, you could become mind-marked with one another someday,” Kade said.
“Assuming all the world’s laws change before dawn,” said Kaven.
“Mind-marked?” asked Gabrel, ignoring his brother’s snarky comment. “I think I remember your grandfather telling us he’s mind-marked with the Human Sage.”
“Indeed he is,” said Kade. “It’s a link between minds—a bond of thought, sealed through identical markings. This one,” she pointed to the three horizontal lines on her upper right shoulder, “is my mind-marking with Athiux. His is on the same shoulder.”
“Are you saying he’s mind-marked with not just the Human Sage, but with you as well?” Kaven asked.
“Yes,” Kade answered. “It takes a very disciplined mind to manage more than one bond.”
“I can’t believe you know each other’s thoughts,” said Kaven.
“Well, it’s not like his voice is rattling around in my head all day,” Kade told him. “We don’t make use of our connection unless we absolutely need to. My grandfather allows me to keep my most guarded feelings to myself. He’s quite respectful in that way.”
“Wait,” said Kaven. “If you’re mind-marked with Athiux, then he could be listening in on everything we’re saying right now!”
“Usually, he wouldn’t invade on my privacy like that,” said Kade, “but in this case, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re right.”
“That’s enough!” Athiux’s angry voice sounded behind them.
“Grandfather, please,” Kade tried to speak, but the Sage wouldn’t allow it.
“Ready your horses,” he said heatedly, breaking up the conversation. “We do not stop ‘til Caleton.”
* * * * *
Vexen walked all through the night. Dawn crept up the horizon, revealing a massive sandstorm, miles away, which veiled all sight of the land before her.
“I can’t go on. We’ll never reach the Caprian Mountains. Forgive me, child,” she said hoarsely, then fell to her knees. Vexen laid Taysha upon the ground, and brushed the sand from her eyes. The scent of the child’s flesh tortured her mind, and pains of starvation consumed her every thought. Her hunger and thirst were unbearable, for it was the longest she’d ever gone without her collar.
She brought her hands to her face and bawled uncontrollably. When tears dripped into her palms, the Dark Princess sought their nourishment. Then, Vexen took her blade, sliced a tiny gash in her own forearm, and brought the wound to her mouth. She spat out the blackened blood she hoped would not be so unbearable to taste. She collapsed hopelessly to the ground, grabbing a fist-full of sand with each hand.
“Vexen?” Taysha stirred, wiping her eyes.
“I can’t save you, child,” said the Dark Princess. “I tried. But I failed. I’m dying, Taysha. But a death like this is better than living the life of a monster.”
Taysha sat up and saw the wound on Vexen’s arm, still oozing black blood.
“You’re hurt!” said the child.
“No,” said Vexen, wiping the blood from her lips. “I’m just thirsty.” Taysha’s eyes mirrored those of the saddened creature’s before her. She knelt by Vexen’s blade, and winced as she cut a shallow wound into her fingertip. Vexen’s mouth opened in shock as she watched the girl injure herself.
“No, Taysha!” she belted. She could smell the blood—thick, and fresh and warm.
“You’re thirsty—”
“No! Never!” Vexen yelled, barely able to keep her eyes open, still fighting every urge and temptation. “You’re mad, child! What do you think you’re doing?”
Taysha looked deeply into Vexen’s eyes. “I’m saving you,” she said, then pressed her flowing wound to Vexen’s dark, cracked lips.
Just then, the sandstorm ahead lost all vitality. The winds came to a halt. And when the last of the sand and ash had settled to the ground, Vexen’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of the Caprian Mountains, bathed in the light of dawn, stretching across the land before her.
“Look, child,” Vexen managed to speak. “We’re almost there.”
Table of Contents
Chapter 22: The Ambassadors Return
“We’ll arrive at the city of your ancestors shortly, ambassadors,” Kade said.
“Ambassadors,” Gabrel scuffed. “I hardly think that fitting anymore—not that it ever was. I’ve been a lousy emissary.”
“I’ve dealt with much, much worse,” Kade assured him. “But the title has suited you, whether you realize it or not. Men of Caladen blood have long served as ambassadors, since the days of Genus Caladen—your city’s founder, architect, and Thanus Mercer’s ambassador during the War of Ages. Every time one strays from its course, destiny, it seems, puts it right again.”
“Did Genus fight in the war?” Gabrel asked.
“Gabrel,” Kaven uttered. “The time for friendly conversation is over.”
“He refused to,” answered the Enchantress. “Until the last battles in Avenalora.”
The group approached the top of a hill, and Gabrel and Kaven could see the trees thinning ahead.
“There, he died a soldier’s death,” Athiux entered the conversation. “Though, Genus Caladen’s spirit has lasted through the ages. Some cultures still preach his history, his principles and his hopes of a land united to this very day. And through the years that spanned the War of Ages, in all the attacks that battered the hopes and hearts of Adoran, his city never saw defeat.”
When at last the group reached the top of the hill, the Human city stood before them, far off in the distance. Though the skies were gray, a light to the east illuminated its stone walls through the mist that had gathered just above the surrounding fields.
“Caleton,” Athiux said. “It remains, today, a beacon, shedding a lonely, yet undeniable light on ages past, reminding us of the time before the War—of the days when the people of Adoran lived in peace with one another—and not this unsettled toleration some would call ‘peace’ today, but peace in its truest, richest form. It is fitting, ambassadors, that your journey should end here.”
Gabrel, Kaven and even Kade shot the Sage horribly distasteful scowls.
“Are you ready for this?” Kaven asked his brother.
Gabrel took a deep breath. “Here we go,” he said.
The gates of Caleton opened as the group
’s entrance was announced with the sounding of a horn. Along with the soldiers who stood guard on the wall were Aeroli, equipped with spears and swords.
“Looks like help may have already arrived,” Athiux observed.
As they made their way into the city, Gabrel hurried toward the healing house. But the people in the streets formed a thick crowd, slowing his pace.
“Please, clear a path for us!” Gabrel yelled.
“Where’s the army, ambassador?” a man from the crowd yelled back. “The King said you were bringing an army. Is it just beyond the walls?”
Gabrel stopped his horse, and looked at the man for a moment. His face begged for some promise of hope that Gabrel could not give.
“These are the Erygians who would help us fight,” Gabrel motioned to his company.
“This is all?” said the man, his own words sinking into his mind as he realized what they meant. “This is all.”
The air was sullen, and Gabrel could feel the crowd around him growing more disheartened with every passing moment. If only there was something he could say to give them hope, he thought. But what could he say?
“The Erygian Sage has come to help us,” he said at last to the filled streets. “And we have brought tools to strengthen our own army. Take heart, and let this news ease your troubled minds. Now please, clear a path.” He said no more, then continued on toward the healing house.
When he finally reached it, he and Kaven dismounted while the others waited outside. Gabrel took the Tears of Life from his pouch, and raced inside.
“Adelyne?!” he called out, frantically searching every bed for his beloved. When his eyes found the healer, Gabrel approached him. “Where is she?” he asked. “Adelyne Caladen—my wife. She suffered a Primen bite.”
“Oh yes, I remember you,” said the healer.
“Where is she?!” Gabrel demanded. But the healer’s eyes filled with sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “She died three days after you left.”
Gabrel couldn’t process his words. The healer put a hand on his shoulder.
“The child was lost the second day,” he continued. “After that, she just gave up, lad. I’m so sorry.”
Gabrel dropped to his knees, and felt like he was going to be sick. “Adelyne,” he uttered softly, then bellowed so loudly, the healing house seemed to shake.
Kaven dropped to his brother, and embraced him. “I’m sorry, Gabe,” he said.
But Gabrel’s cries would not end. “It was all for nothing,” he said, letting the vial containing the Tears of Life roll from his grasp across the floor.
“Bless me!” the healer gasped, scurrying to pick up the vial. “You’ve brought them! You just saved all these peoples’ lives!”
“But I couldn’t save hers,” Gabrel said. “I couldn’t—” his voice trailed away.
“The last thing she said before she died,” said the healer, “was ‘tell him not to blame himself.’ I can only imagine those words were meant for you.”
Gabrel’s stomach turned.
The door to the healing house opened. Gabrel expected to see the Erygians enter, though it was the same two soldiers that escorted him to the King upon his first arrival to Caleton.
“Not you again,” Kaven said.
“You brought the Erygians?” one of them asked. Kaven nodded. “Lord Daro is marching, and time is of the essence. Please, follow me.”
Kaven helped Gabrel up and took him outside the healing house. They found Athiux and Kade with sorrowful faces.
“She’s dead,” Kaven told them.
Kade started to offer her condolences, but Gabrel waved away her sympathy. He slouched upon his horse, holding back tears as the soldiers escorted everyone to the castle. He didn’t care that the crowd could see his misery. He didn’t care that it only fueled the despair in their hearts. And for the first time, he didn’t care whether he lived or died.
“These warriors will join our ranks,” one of the soldier escorts told an officer, who took charge of the Erygian warriors, leading them away from the group. Athiux and Kade remained at the brothers’ side.
When they reached the Great Hall, Athiux addressed the soldier.
“These are Gabrel and Kaven Caladen,” he said. “Will you alert their father of their return?”
The soldier nodded, just as the doors opened.
Gabrel proceeded slowly into the hall, wiping his eyes, wondering if he was indeed living his last moments. To his surprise, the King was the only person in the room. No one announced them. No guards aligned the walls. Nor were the Queen or Princess present either. The King sat upon his throne, slouched, his forehead leaning against the palm of one hand.
“Is he asleep?” Kade whispered to Athiux when they reached the throne. “Or dead?”
“Ahem! Please excuse the state of our garb, your Highness,” Athiux said loud enough to rouse Mercer if he was indeed resting. “Our passage was fraught with peril.”
The King responded, but his words were nothing the group could have ever expected.
“Have you ever counted your regrets?” he asked. “All the faults and shames of your life? Things you would have undone, that still haunt you to this very day?” Gabrel and Kaven shot each other confused glances. “I have tried. Yet it seems my misdeeds are beyond count. These have been disturbing times of late, and I fear the repayment of my crimes is finally upon me.”
“Titus, what has happened?” asked Athiux. The King lifted his head from the support of a numb palm.
“My Queen left Caleton with our daughter,” said Mercer, “and made for the city of Benevar.” He hesitated before continuing. “They never made it.”
“How do you know?” asked Kade.
“My beautiful Ocyra—” Mercer spoke as if every word was riddled with knives that forced their way up his throat, “her body fell from the sky above Caleton.”
“Oh my god,” said the Enchantress, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Dropped by the Fated Ones, well before the Aeroli arrived. If only they’d come sooner,” Mercer said, scratching deeply at his temples. “This is my punishment—that my world, and those I love would be made to suffer for it! A curse, forged by my own hand!”
“What about Princess Ayden?” asked Kade. “Is she alive?”
The King took in a deep breath. “She is here,” he said. “She is safe, for now. If not for her escorts—” Mercer trailed off, but the group understood his implication. “And you. The Aeroli told me two of my ambassadors were killed on the road to Trendell, but that three travelers—three brothers, in fact—took up their mantle. I remember you, Gabrel Caladen. I remember you well. But the last time we spoke, you weren't wearing Erygian armor.”
“It’s all they had in Allestron,” said Gabrel. “And it was better than nothing.”
“Allestron, you say?” asked the King.
“Yes,” Kaven told him. “We went in Torren Spark’s place. And our brother went to Skaelwood in Ralindur’s. I can only assume he hasn’t made it back yet.”
“None of my ambassadors have returned,” said the King. “I feel at this point, I should not expect them to. And what of the Erygians? Have you returned with their armies?”
“They are dispersed throughout the land,” Kaven said. “And the Enchanters would not forfeit those that guarded their city. But the Sage and an Enchantress have come to help us.” He gestured to Athiux and Kade.
“Thank you for coming,” said the King. “The Aeroli caught wind of our predicament, and arrived in great numbers. But they have come without their Sage. Saléus sends word of attacks by the Fated Ones near Valea. He remains there to protect his own realm. I must tell you. Even with their help—and yours—I feel there is no hope of victory here.”
“We’ve brought weapons,” Kade told the King. “Powerful furenti that will gain us an advantage over Daro’s forces.”
“And that’s not all,” Kaven added. “Athiux and Kade won’t be the only ones wielding magic from our
walls. My brother and I can be made very useful during the battle.”
“During the battle?” Gabrel whispered to his brother. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m trying to delay our deaths,” Kaven whispered back. “By some miraculous stroke of fortune,” Kaven told the King, “we can wield magic.”
“Magic, you say?” the King asked skeptically. “Preposterous.”
“I speak the truth,” said Kaven.
“Prove it then.”
When Gabrel and Kaven filled themselves with magic, all traces of King Mercer’s doubt vanished.
“How is this possible?” he asked as the brothers released their magic. Kaven looked to Gabrel. He didn’t want the King to know Gabrel had his spirisortium, for then, Mercer would undoubtedly order their deaths.
“We came into contact with an Erygian experiencing the spirisortium,” Kaven lied, hoping Athiux would keep quiet on the matter. “The fires that burned him spread to us, and gave us this gift.”
“Extraordinary,” Mercer said. “Truly extraordinary.”
“The goddesses must have heard our pleas for help,” Kaven continued. “And now, Lord Daro will fight not only men armed with furenti, but four wielders who have yet to succumb to his forces.”
The King considered them for what seemed to Gabrel like an eternity.
“You assumed the roles of my ambassadors by your own will?” he asked at last.
“Yes,” said Kaven.
“And fulfilled their duties, for the sake of your people?”
“We did.”
“Then you will remain in my service,” said the King. “As such, I would have you leave Caleton when the battle is brought.”
“You don’t want us in the city?” Gabrel asked. It didn’t make sense, he thought. “But we’re wielders. I don’t understand. If we’re not to protect Caleton, what are we to do?”
