by Amanda Young
“Now, if I have efficiently answered all your questions, will you answer mine? Who are you?”
“I am known as Randik,” he offered readily.
Kern felt his shock, surprised even more that he could still feel shock after all he recently discovered and witnessed. “You are the god of the Sublinates.”
“I am.”
“Well, then where are your followers? Shouldn’t they be here, fighting their enemy?”
“The battle would be over before they could arrive. That battle will come, but trust me when I say you would not want it to take place over your home. As things now stand, the Cullers have a motivation to keep moving. Were I to send my army to this battle, that motivation would be greatly decreased.”
“And what of all the homes they sack along the way to this final battle of yours?”
“I never said it would be the final battle, and there will be people who die no matter what any of us do. I cannot change that. With the intervention of people like you, some of those deaths may be prevented, but that is not something I have control over.”
“And there is nothing you can do to help Aleria and Suriax?”
“So close to the seats of power for Venerith and your Lawgivers, no.”
Kern sighed in frustration. “So what happens, now?”
“Now, the Three Lawgivers awaken to their divinity, and things get interesting.”
Kern heard the whisper of a voice and turned his head, but the sound was impossible to pinpoint. No matter which way he turned, he could not locate the source. Other voices joined the first and he felt a sense of familiarity, as though he should recognize them, but his mind was lethargic, cloudy. His chest warmed, his vision blurring to white at the edges. “What is happening?” he heard himself ask. His body felt weightless, now. His field of vision continued to narrow.
“The birth of gods,” he heard just before everything faded to white.
* * *
“Honestly,” Maerishka complained, “I can’t believe you brought the body with you.” She looked in disdain at her former brother.
“Please,” Eirae said. “It isn’t as though you’ve never had a dead body in your palace before.”
Pielere shot them both a look. Mirerien didn’t notice any of it. She sat by Kern’s side, stroking his hair as she had since they made it to the palace. “He is our balance,” she said to herself. “He is an agent of good, the protector and the mediator, the light and the dark, the punisher and the punished. He who has walked both paths and chosen justice, not power.”
Pielere and Eirae came to her side, drawn by the strength of her words. Eirae looked at his brother and sister with tears in his eyes. “Do you feel that, too?” he asked them, his voice raw, stripped of its normal sarcasm. They nodded. Without a word, they surrounded their brother’s body and held out their hands.
“What are you going on about?” Maerishka asked, but they weren’t listening. They closed their eyes then opened them again. Maerishka watched them with confusion. The air around them glowed. Their hands and eyes glowed.
Speaking as one, they said, “Kern Tygierrenon has been judged and deemed worthy of another chance at life. His noble act of self sacrifice has earned him this gift. So is our ruling. Let it be done.”
The Three Lawgivers. That is the name people often used for the Alerian Lords. Maerishka felt a nervous energy in the pit of her stomach, like one might feel standing too close to a cliff’s edge, as she watched the glow move from their bodies into Kern’s. His chest rose in a deep breath, and the heaviness in the room eased at last. Maerishka couldn’t believe her eyes. Kern sat up, struggling from the pain from his back injury, but alive.
“You couldn’t have healed my back while you were at it,” he joked, the gratitude plain on his face. Pielere laughed with relief and put a hand on Kern’s shoulder. He sat up straighter almost at once, the pain gone from his expression. “Thanks,” he said, rolling his shoulders experimentally. “Thanks.”
“Thank you,” Mirerien said, hugging her brother.
“This is all very touching, but how did you do that?” Maerishka asked impatiently.
“Well, that’s an easy answer,” Kern said for them. “They’re gods.”
Chapter 11
Before Maerishka could respond to Kern’s absurd proclamation, the sound of giggling drew her attention. Standing on the small balcony overlooking the room was a small girl. She leaned her elbows against the railing, resting her head on one hand. Her ankles were crossed casually and her curled dark ponytails bobbed with her laughter. “Gods, huh?” she said in a high pitched voice. “This is going to be fun.” She swept a calculating eye over each of them and stood, clapping her hands together. “I’ll take the serious looking one. You can have the rest.” Placing her hands flat on the railing she easily went into a handstand and flipped off. Rebounding off the ground with a roll and jump, she spring boarded off Eirae’s shoulder to land at the back of the room. Leaning forward, one hand under the opposite elbow, she extended her pointer finger and motioned for Eirae to follow her.
“I am not fighting a girl,” he said indignantly.
“Oh,” she pouted and drew a dagger, throwing it before anyone had time to react. It flew next to Kern’s head, embedding itself in the back cushion of his seat. Instantly, five more blades appeared at her fingertips. “Should I keep going?” she asked sweetly. “I’m sure one of these will hit.” Eirae growled and drew his sword. The girl smiled and closed her hand, putting away the blades. “Excellent. It’s playtime.” Turning, she ran from the room, Eirae close behind.
The rest of them did not have time to follow. A low growl and snort drew their attention behind them to the main chamber door. There stood a woman in a coat and top hat beside a very large Culler holding the chain of an equally large, wild drander. The man dropped the chain, and the drander ran in, scattering the group. The man followed his beast. Swinging a large hammer, he ran for Kern and Mirerien. Pielere was busy fending off the drander, trying his best to avoid being gored by the long tusks. He managed several hits, but most were blocked by the animal’s boney armor.
The other two had their hands full with the Culler. With his size and large swing, a single hit could take them both out. Trying to get past his reach to strike with their weapons was nearly impossible, and the physical constraints of the room made Mirerien’s skill with the bow relatively useless. Kern attempted to keep the man’s attention to allow Mirerien a chance to take a more advantageous position, but he was aware of their strategy and refused to allow her that opening.
Maerishka turned to face the last of their intruders. The strangely dressed woman was not loud or talkative like the girl. She was not large or muscular like the man. She did not have a feral demeanor or cover herself in many weapons. Instead, she held a staff, which she tapped lightly against the floor in between a few light swings to the side. Short dark hair peaked out from underneath her hat, and her coat flared out dramatically. This woman quietly demanded attention.
Without a word, she approached Maerishka, continuing to swing her staff. Maerishka called fire to her hands and shot small balls of flame at the woman. She easily avoided the attack and swung at Maerishka’s legs. Maerishka did not jump out of the way but dropped and grabbed the staff, transferring her heat to the stick. She felt it travel up to the wood and to the woman’s hands, but she held on tight, smiling.
“You think to stop me with pain?” the woman asked, without opening her lips.
Startled by the trick, Maerishka allowed the woman to pull back her staff and suffered a hit to the back of the head for her mistake. Angry, she launched into every attack she knew, both with fire and without. The woman avoided all of them. Quick and quiet, she was a phantom unaffected by pain or fear. Well, there was one pain no one was immune to. Reaching out, Maerishka grabbed the woman’s arm and sent in her heat, boiling the blood from within. Normally, she would only touch a person for a moment to initiate this particular attack, but even after
she saw the woman’s features contort in pain and her fingers go slack around the staff, Maerishka continued to hold her arm, determined to make this death as painful as possible. She saw the woman’s lips part, and Maerishka smiled. Then the woman took a breath and screamed.
Maerishka dropped the woman’s arm and fell, hands clutching her ears at the inhuman screech that pierced through the room. She squeezed her eyes closed and willed the sound to stop, unable to move or think while it continued. When finally she could open her eyes, the woman was gone, though the ringing continued to impede her hearing. She saw Pielere and the others talking over the dead bodies of the man and drander, but she could not hear their words. Stumbling, her sense of balance gone, she fought against dizziness and nausea to stand. Svanteese ran into the room, drawn no doubt by the woman’s scream, and helped her to a chair. “Cleric,” she said, trying not to yell, but unable to tell if she was successful. Svanteese nodded and left to find a healer. Maerishka touched the blood dripping from her ear and closed her eyes to wait.
* * *
Eirae ducked as another dagger flew past. He still couldn’t tell where they were coming from. Every time he thought he knew where she was, she moved. Even more impressive, she managed to retrieve her thrown daggers without being seen.
He followed her into the main ballroom. Surrounded on all sides by the circular balcony, stairs coming down in three spots, this was a playroom for someone like her. There were a hundred places she could hide, countless shadows and corners to exploit.
He felt a cut on his leg and looked down at the streak of blood there. “Can I at least know the name of my opponent?” He called, trying to draw her out.
The girl stepped forward from the shadows in front of him and gave a slight bow. “Ridikquelass,” she announced. Her ponytails bobbed as she spoke. She held a curved blade in her hand, pressed regally to her chest. Then she stood straight and began walking around him in a wide circle. Her steps were deliberate, heels hitting hard and rolling to the toes. “You don’t look like much of a god,” she commented.
“Is that so?” He watched her steps, tracking the shadows without moving his head. Just a few more steps and she would be close enough. All he needed was to touch her for a second, and he could end this.
“Then again, maybe your children will be more fun. Demigods do develop in unusual ways, and they are rarely held by the same restrictions as their parents.”
“You speak as though you have a great deal of knowledge on this subject.” Two more steps, he counted.
“You’d be surprised what you can learn from people’s minds.”
She came around to his right and Eirae reached out, brushing his finger against her arm before she could jump completely out of the way. It was enough. He felt his power go into that touch, encouraging her mind to develop a hallucination designed to bring out feelings of guilt and remorse for her past actions. It was an ability he discovered while interrogating prisoners and was very effective in getting confessions. He did not control the visions or even know what people saw, but he heard enough reactions of them to get a pretty good idea what they were like. It wasn’t pleasant.
“Oohhh, do it again.” The girl shook with excitement, catching him completely off guard. “Better yet, let me return the favor.” She somersaulted over Eirae, reaching above her midair to touch him on top of his head. Her hair became a kaleidoscope of colors.
Eirae fell instantly into darkness. The walls melted into shadows. He tried to walk, but the floor was gone. He could not move. His body was trapped, surrounded by a thick, sticky cloud of fear and pain. He saw faces shift, translucent in the pitch black void. His mother’s face smiled then screamed. He saw her body and felt his anger at her death and at his father for causing her to die with his greed and corruption. The rage filled him, smothering him, and he was back in that moment, lost to his hate. He thought of all the things he would do to their father. He did not even care if he was arrested and executed for his actions. He would gladly accept any punishment if it meant his mother’s death would be avenged.
He felt his brother and sister reach out to him, calming him, just as they had back then. This was all in the past, a memory that could not hurt him. Their father was long dead, a victim of his own machinations. Justice was found through the law, and the people of Aleria were freed from his corrupt reign. “So this is why you weren’t affected,” Eirae mused aloud. “You have a similar ability to mine.”
“One big difference,” she responded, her voice coming from the darkness. “I’m in here with you.” She giggled, and he felt the darkness press in tightly, searching his mind for another memory to exploit.
“Not going to work,” he informed her. “You already found the worst moment of my life. Nothing else comes close. There isn’t much else you can do to me.” The inky darkness began to lighten to grey.
“Maybe not, but there is plenty to learn. You three really are gods, huh? He is going to love that.”
“Who?” Eirae asked, searching for her mind. If she really was in here with him, maybe he could reverse the flow and see her secrets. In the grey mist around him he saw a dark form take shape. It was the shadow of a large man with a broad chest and chains wrapped around his massive arms. Each arm was easily as wide as or larger than a normal man’s head. Eirae could not see any details, but what he saw was enough to set his nerves on edge. He pushed for a clearer picture, but suddenly the shadow was gone, wiped clear away.
“Uh, uh, uh,” the girl said. “No fair sneaking in to my mind uninvited. You have no idea where it’s been,” she chastised with mock seriousness or maybe it was actual seriousness. It was really difficult to tell with her. Before he could figure it out a loud scream rang through the room, and he felt the hallucination fall away. The suddenness of it left him dizzy and momentarily confused. The girl stood in front of him with her hands together in front of her face. “Well, that is my cue to leave. Bye-bye.” Leaning forward she opened her hands palms up and blew sparkling gem dust in his face. By the time he cleared his eyes, she was gone.
* * *
Pielere pulled his sword from the heart of the now dead drander and looked up at Eirae approaching from the hallway. “Nice of you to join us,” he quipped.
“Why are you sparkling?” Kern asked.
Eirae disgustedly dusted gem dust from his shirt. “That minx threw it on me right before she disappeared. What was that horrendous screech?’
“The one in the top hat,” Kern explained. “Oh wait, you didn’t see her. There was a woman wearing a top hat,” he repeated.
“That woman resisted my deadliest attack,” Maerishka seethed, smoke rising from her chair wherever she touched it. The cleric healing her ears flinched in discomfort but did not complain.
“How’s the ears?” Kern asked, a little too cheerfully for her mood.
“If I ever get my hands on that woman again . . .” The arm of her chair crumbled to ash under her hands before she could finish her threat. “Aren’t you done, yet?” she demanded, throwing an angry look at the cleric.
“Almost, Your Majesty. The damage was quite severe. It is a wonder you can hear at all.”
Pielere could believe it. His ears were still ringing, and he was across the room when the woman screamed. Her attack was potent. Pulling out a cloth, he wiped the blood from his sword and found himself looking north. He could sense trouble in the tunnels.
“We need to get to the border,” Mirerien said, interrupting his thoughts. “I feel much death. We must rally morale and lead the defenses.”
Normally the first to head into a fight, Eirae looked off, a pained expression on his face. “My children are afraid. They are in danger.”
“As are mine,” Pielere admitted, feeling his brother’s dilemma.
“Ah, the joys of family,” Maerishka taunted. “What will it be? Will you save your kingdom or your children? Gods or not, it would take all three of you to have any hope of stopping that army, unless you can be in two places at
once.”
“She’s right,” Kern said, surprising everyone. “I’ll go. I can be at the palace in seconds.”
“Are you sure?” Eirae asked, his expression relaxing.
“Of course. They are my family, too.”
Mirerien went to Kern, giving him a hug for thanks and luck. “Just try to stay alive this time. I don’t think we can bring you back again.”
“Don’t die. Got it.”
“One more thing," Pielere said, putting a hand on Kern’s shoulder. “They aren’t at the palace. They are in the tunnels under the clerics’ temple.” Putting as much force as he could behind the location of his family, Pielere willed Kern to go there. A moment later, he was gone.
“Please,” Maerishka scoffed. “You act as though you are the only ones with power. Touching her necklace with one hand, raising the other for dramatic flair, she said “Logeaneportas.” They were instantly teleported to the southern tower for the main bridge connecting the cities. She lowered her hand smugly. Four pearls on her necklace grew cloudy and dark, their magic spent.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Pielere said politely. She rolled her eyes and threw a fire ball at the first Culler she saw. Walking off, she began issuing orders to her men. “I think we may have outlived our welcome.”
“She’ll get over it,” Eirae said. “Besides, I am ready to get back on Alerian soil. Do you think you can get us past that bridge?”
“Me? What about you two?” he teased. “I’m exhausted.”
Eirae laughed. “Calm down, old man.”
“We’re the same age.” Pielere pointed out.
Ignoring the response, Eirae took a step back and gave a small salute. “See you on the other side.” Still laughing Eirae disappeared.
