by Ben Hale
They were not alone.
Chapter 28: Lira’s Gate
Instantly on guard, Water and Lira faced the source of the noise. The seconds passed and no one appeared, but Water kept his attention focused outward, his thoughts on the possibility of a trap. Had the dakorians done all this just to draw them in? It seemed improbable, and yet he could not dismiss it outright. The Order had kidnapped a reigning monarch, and it seemed they’d been a step ahead from the beginning. They’d proven their power.
The sound repeated, a shuffling of feet through the ash, of a beam succumbing and falling, the impact muffled by the soil. They were not the sounds of an attacker, so Water advanced through the devastated village until he spotted a flicker of movement.
The woman knelt in a destroyed building, sifting through the rubble and ash. Wearing a homespun dress, the cloth now stained black, she seemed intent on locating an object, and did not hear them approach until Lira coughed.
Spinning to her feet, she woman faced them, a small knife in her hands. She shifted between pointing the blade at Water and then at Lira, her eyes wild. Lira raised her hands to placate the woman.
“We are not here to harm you,” she said.
The woman stared at them suspiciously, her eyes moving over and around them, searching for more. But there was just the ash falling through scattered smoke. She kept the blade up, her hands quivering.
“Who are you?”
“King Numen sent us,” Water said. “We hunt those who attacked your village.”
“Demon trolls,” the woman spat. “They had horns like a beast.”
“Were you here?” Lira asked.
The woman seemed to realize she still held a blade pointed at them and straightened before tucking the knife into a tiny sheath on her waist. She nodded to Lira, and her eyes swept the ruined structure where she stood.
“This was my home.”
“You must be Grena,” Water said.
The woman stared at the ash at her feet. “The soldiers took the dead and brought me to Erathan. I returned as soon as I was able.”
“Can you tell us what happened?” Lira asked.
“There were four of them,” Grena said, her voice haunted. “They walked into the village and demanded to know the location of a dwarf. They picked up the dwarven blacksmith like he was a child. Others rose up to fight, but we were no match for them. They spoke of us like we were pests to be exterminated.”
“What did they want?” Water asked gently.
“They wanted answers,” Grena said. “But when they had them, they wanted blood.”
Water glanced to Lira and lowered his voice. “Why would they do that?”
“Dakorians are taught that man is a lesser form of being,” she murmured. “To them, these people would have been a herd of beasts.”
“But wanton slaughter?” Water asked. “We don’t just kill beasts for sport.”
“You don’t understand,” she said, turning to him. “They shed blood as easily as we breathe, and love to fight, to kill.”
Appalled, Water gazed on the village, the families destroyed, simply because the dakorians enjoyed killing. Anger rippled through him and he turned to Grena. The woman was on her knees again, brushing ash off a memory orb.
A light mage had captured an image of a young boy and placed it inside the glass orb. Smiling impishly, the boy stared into space, his eyes dancing with delight. Grena cradled the orb to her chest, tears wetting the black stains on her cheeks.
“When you find them, will you kill them?” Grena’s voice was surprisingly strong.
“We will,” Lira said.
Grena stood and pointed south. “They spoke of returning to Keese, of a guild of thieves called the Ravens. After watching the village burn they departed in that direction.”
“You have our gratitude,” Water said.
The woman turned away, and Water and Lira withdrew. They left the disturbing village behind and returned to the road, but the daylight had lost its luster. Even after they’d gone far enough to avoid the falling ash, he still felt stained.
“Do any dakorians have a sense of morality?” he asked.
Lira didn’t answer, and he glanced her way. Lira’s features were dark, her hands clenching and unclenching. Yet it was the same fear she’d displayed before, prompting him to reach out and touch her arm.
“Don’t,” she said, flinching. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
They’d come to a halt, and she stared into the woods. But he could tell she still faced the village, her eyes still seeing the ash and fallen buildings. He wanted to reach out to her, to embrace her, but she stood so rigid she trembled.
“It’s happening again,” she said quietly.
“What’s happening again?”
She stabbed a hand back toward the village. “The krey, the dakorians. This is what they do. They destroy all freedoms, enslave all men and women.”
“We can stop them.”
She rounded on him, her eyes flashing. “Do you know how many have said that? How many have died for their beliefs?”
“I don’t,” he said. “But I know we can.”
“You really think our magic is enough to stop them?”
“It’s done so already,” he said. “We’ve fought the dakorians and survived. We’ve fought the Order and survived. They are not so different from the many foes we’ve brought to justice.”
“You don’t think they are different?” she challenged.
“Wylyn is just another tyrant that needs to learn humility,” he said.
“Do you know what the krey do to get more slaves?” She stepped in, so close he could see the flecks of green in her blue eyes. “They take a few thousand men and women and put them on a world much like this one. Then they let time and the nature of man work. Several thousand years later they return and harvest millions. There is always a rebellion. It is always destroyed.”
“Like the Mendelen?”
She stared at him and he held his breath, wondering if he’d pushed it too far. The seconds passed but he did not speak, and finally she grimaced and looked away. She clenched her eyes shut, and for a moment she looked utterly vulnerable.
“There is something you should see.”
She withdrew a small mirror from a pouch at her side and lifted it to a tree. The glass poured to the ground and flowed up the trunk, shaping into a large arch that reflected them standing in the road.
“Is that a Gate?” he asked.
“This Gate only works on Lumineia or in the Hall of Eternals,” she said. “Will you come with me?”
“Where does it lead?”
“You’ll find out,” she said, and offered her hand.
He glanced between her hand and the Gate, and then reached for her hand. After her anger, he expected her grip to be rigid, but her fingers were soft and trembling. He realized she was about to show a piece of herself, but the dark tinge to her gaze left him with a sense of foreboding.
“I am yours,” he said.
She nodded and then pulled him through the Gate. Stepping through the mirror was not unlike falling into water, the liquid passing over his skin and clothing, yet he was left dry as he emerged on the opposite side.
He coughed at the dust in the air, and then shivered, the cold piercing his clothing and settling into his bones. They were in a cave, the dim light a shade of red that came from outside. He spotted her wrapping a cloth around her features and he did the same, allowing him to breathe. Then he followed her to the mouth of the cave.
They stood near the summit of a small mountain, providing a view that stretched for miles. The landscape was barren and hostile, an endless expanse of rock, dry riverbeds, and billowing clouds of dust. Then he saw the ruins.
On the far side of the valley sat the remains of a mighty city. Time had been unkind, wearing away the vestiges of the buildings until they’d gained a weariness, a resignation to their fate.
The city cou
ld have housed the entire population of Lumineia, and stretched across mountains and valleys, expanding so far it touched the horizon. Some buildings towered over others. Others were fallen. Even broken, they were as tall as mountains, their reflective exterior long since gone dark.
He squinted and spotted the damage in the city. Like a great knife had been plunged into the earth, a black gorge carved through the earth. Buildings and streets were gone, others falling into the abyss. Some buildings were cut in two, the interior exposed to the elements, as if a great weapon had pierced the city, plunging into its heart.
“What is . . .”
The wind swirled, parting for a moment and allowing a view of the sky. His eyes widened in shock, for the city extended into the heavens. Huge and decaying, more buildings floated above, bits hanging off, the rubble about to fall. Many hung low in the sky but some remained high, kissing the clouds as they resisted the pull of the earth.
The sun was descending into the sky, casting the region in a reddish hue. Through the floating buildings he spotted a moon—and then a second moon, and a third. Two were crescents while the third was full, the sight robbing him of speech.
“We’re not on Lumineia,” he breathed.
“We are not.”
He cast her a look and then returned to examining the sky. “I thought small Gates could not travel between worlds.”
“That is true,” she said. “But we are close to Lumineia, and my Gate draws power from the Hall of Eternals to travel to this one destination.”
“What is this place?” he asked.
“Renara,” she said, and then pointed to the city. “That’s Herikelenis, the capital city. The rest of the world looks much the same, now.”
She stepped to the side of the cave and pressed a faintly glowing rune. A dome of light appeared, seeming to flow from the stone and rising up like a giant bubble. The scenery changed, color filling the canvas.
Trees and grass appeared, buildings straightened and sealed. Mighty rivers flowed and ships were visible on its surface. Other trees grew, their trunks a strange, glowing green, their branches bending upward rather than hanging down.
The sky turned a deep blue, the floating buildings shifting to gain an order, an organization that implied an architect. Balconies extended from buildings, flying vessels departing from them to carry men and women to distant destinations.
“This place is breathtaking,” he said.
She flashed a sad smile. “It was. Thousands of cities once dotted this continent, all flourishing under a single government, the people electing a Governor Prime, a woman that had the respect of all. They were at peace.”
“Why did you bring me here?” he asked.
“Lumineia is my home,” she said, “but here was my heart. It is also the place of my greatest failure.”
“What happened?” he asked, a trickle of foreboding seeping into his gut.
“The krey,” she said simply, and reached for the rune again. And the image began to change . . .
Chapter 29: Renara
An object appeared in the sky and grew larger as it approached. Two other vessels appeared, and their appearance sparked panic among the populace, the people screaming as they fled. Large weapons were activated, launching beams of fire and light at the arrivals, but the ships emerged unscathed.
One glided through the smoke and Water got a full look at the ship. It resembled a longsword, with an extended, flattened hull made of a bright silvery material. At the rear, two stubby wings extended to either side, the stern shaped like a hilt. Weapons opened up and beams of light lanced into the earth.
Lira watched the destruction with wooden eyes. “The krey had seeded Renara thousands of years before, and came to collect the crop of new slaves. The Mendelen were the soldiers of the people, and they fought with valor and courage, but it didn’t matter.”
Water clenched his hands into fists, helplessness and anger spilling into his veins. The defenders fought, but their cities, their armaments, were for nothing. The krey were far more powerful, almost lazy in their attack.
A second ship landed and unloaded a small army of dakorians. Led by two soldiers of pure light, they waded into the city, driving the people out. The soldiers of light killed the defenders and leveled buildings, their might rivaling deranged guardians from the Mage Wars. One carried a weapon that cut a structure down like it was wheat, the blade in his hands slicing through stone and steel.
“Constructs,” Lira said. “Those are helmed by dakorians.”
“They are the machines you spoke of?” he asked.
“A most deadly machine,” she said.
The people were subdued and another krey vessel landed. Large doors were opened and people were herded into the opening, where a Gate stood waiting. Many fought. All died. Those that accepted the krey passed through the Gate, their wailing filling the smoke-laden air. And ash rained down from the sky.
Many of the buildings in the sky were falling, their structures in flames. Beneath, families were forced into long lines, their captors showing no mercy. The Mendelen soldiers were cut down with such ease that the people stopped fighting. With heads bowed, they abandoned their homes to become krey slaves.
The image came to a halt, and Lira motioned to the city. “Millions dead. Billions captured.”
“All for slaves?” he asked, heat rising in his voice.
“All for slaves,” she repeated.
“Why were you here?” he asked. He turned to her, unable to watch the image any longer.
“This was my first assignment as an Eternal,” she said, her eyes on the image. “I joined them, lived among them. I was supposed to locate the krey spies and kill them before they could report back. I completed my assignment and thought the world safe.”
“You stayed,” he realized.
“I fell in love,” she said. “His name is difficult to pronounce in our language, but he was everything to me. We built a home, a life, and I allowed myself to think the krey would never come. I asked Ero to release me from my vow.”
She passed a hand over her face. “Ero and I argued. He warned me the krey would come, but I thought it would be distant, centuries into the future. I married my Mendelen captain, and for the first time since the Dawn of Magic, I was truly happy.
“You cannot imagine what life is like exploring a new world,” she said, her eyes distant. “The people are different, the culture even more so—and yet they are all the same. Fathers and mothers watching their children, homes built and loved ones lost. The race of man is remarkably resilient, and always prone to curiosity.”
“Did you have children?”
“Three,” she said. “All girls.”
She smiled, the softness to her expression reminding Water of Elenyr. All at once his perspective shifted. He’d viewed Lira as a young woman because of her appearance, but she was one who had endured much, and lost much.
Lira spoke of her girls with sadness and resignation, indicating they had long since perished. He did not ask how, but suspected they had died when the krey had arrived. The loss had evidently cut into her soul.
He asked about her family and friends, and she spoke of them as if they were still living. Her words were halting at first, as if she’d never shared the tale. But as the minutes passed, the words came easier. She touched the rune on the wall, and the image returned to before the krey arrival, to when the world was at peace. Then she pointed to strange beasts, describing their near sentient natures, and telling of how one of her girls had owned one as a pet.
She pointed to the area of their home, a small farm on the outskirts of the city. He squinted, and just managed to make out the building on the top of a hill, the structure tall and regal, with a section floating off the ground.
Water listened to her speak of her life on Renara, and saw beyond her story. She was an ageless, but while on the world she’d believed she could live a life free of the Empire. Even if the krey had never come, she would have witnessed her
husband wither and die, her daughters become adults before they too succumbed to age.
“Do you regret starting a family?”
She shook her head. “My time with them was worth any cost,” she said, and then her voice hardened. “But the krey will pay the greater price.”
“Why do the Eternals not destroy the Empire?” he asked.
“Would that it could be so easy,” she said. “You could sooner move an ocean with a bucket.”
“So that’s Ero’s plan?” Water asked. “Keep Lumineia hidden from the Empire?”
“That is all we can do,” she said simply. “None in the Empire know of Lumineia’s existence or location. If they did . . .” She swept her hand at the still frozen image.
“Did you fight when the krey came to Renara?”
“To protect my family,” she said. “I failed.”
“Who did this to Renara?” he asked.
She shifted the image back to after the battle, and froze the illusion where Water could see a ship on the ground. Near the stern of the vessel was a symbol, a strange rune. It had two sharp curves like claw marks, and a single dot above the left curve.
“That’s the symbol for Wylyn’s house,” she said.
“Wylyn did this?”
“Her house is incredibly strong,” Lira said. “I doubt she was here personally, but they were here on her order. Renara was owned by her house, and when the time came, she sent her forces to retrieve her property. The people would have been sold in weeks.”
He struggled to contain his mounting anger. Witnessing what the krey had done to Renara filled him with a desire to tear down the Empire and free those enslaved. But one glance at the ships was enough to bring caution.
“What happened after the battle?”
She touched a rune on the wall and the image accelerated until all the people were gone. The ships withdrew, and then rained fire from the heavens, devastating everything that remained, destroying forests and rivers, until the entire planet was desolate, and the light of the mirage drained into the ground, leaving the sober reality.
