The Rise of Ancient Fury

by Ben Wolf

  “Act how?” Riley dodged Magnus’s heavy footfalls. “Act how, Magnus?”

  Magnus didn’t bother to reply.

  As Magnus closed in on Lumen’s position, Lumen truncated his oration and turned to face him, still hovering in the air twenty feet above the camp.

  “Even without the aid of two of our mightiest warriors, we managed to overpower the King’s forces,” he declared. The soldiers around him raised their weapons and roared with approval. “And now that the mighty Dragon King has returned, we are at full strength yet again. Our victory is assured.”

  More cheers erupted from the soldiers.

  Riley stared up at Lumen with his black eyes and muttered, “Figures I don’t even get mentioned.”

  Magnus ignored Riley’s comments. To Lumen, he said, “May I speak with you in private?”

  “What could we possibly have to speak about?” Lumen stared at him with burning white eyes. “Our victory is nigh. We have but to claim it.”

  “We cannot attack Solace.” Magnus said it loud enough to grab the attention of everyone in the vicinity, but more so to force Lumen to hear him out, whether privately or here, in the presence of the entire army.

  Lumen didn’t so much as flinch. “That is absurd.”

  It appeared they were doing this here, in front of everyone, so Magnus continued. “They have taken three of our number, including Lilly, the Premieress of the Sky Realm, Calum, the Unifier of Kanarah, and…” Magnus didn’t have a title for Axel, so he didn’t bother to make one up. “…Axel. We cannot fight without them.”

  Lumen’s blazing eyes narrowed. “I am the Unifier of Kanarah. I am its liberator. Calum was an important contributor in assembling my army, and his loss is unfortunate, as is the loss of the other two, but they perished in the service of freeing all of Kanarah.”

  “They did not perish,” Magnus asserted. “Their bodies are not among the dead. I have examined every corpse. They were taken by Matthios, the King’s Imperator.”

  “And by Gavridel, the other Imperator,” another voice chimed in.

  Magnus glanced back in time to see General Balena hovering toward them with General Tolomus and Condor in tow. It was General Balena who’d spoken.

  “I saw a large warrior clad in armor made of gemstones take both Calum and Axel,” General Balena continued. “They were, as far as I could tell, still alive.”

  “Even if they yet live,” Lumen said, “they will not remain alive for long. The King is widely known for his ruthlessness and appetite for suffering. They are among the first casualties of this war, and regrettably, they will not be the last.” Lumen redirected his words toward the soldiers. “It is up to us to ensure their sacrifices were not in vain.”

  “I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Riley muttered again.

  Magnus echoed the Shadow Wolf’s sentiment. “No.”

  “No?” Lumen turned to face Magnus yet again, and his head tilted to one side. “No… what?”

  “No,” Magnus rumbled. “I refuse to accept that outcome. We must send envoys to bargain for their release. Perhaps we can trade Captain Anigo in exchange for our friends.”

  “Captain Anigo escaped when Gavridel took Calum and Axel,” General Balena said.

  “Then we will trade other captive soldiers instead,” Magnus said. “We must have captured several of them in the course of the battle here.”

  “Our forces relentlessly eradicated our enemies at my command,” Lumen countered. “There is no one left to trade, and even if there were, I would not lower myself to make such a request of my mortal enemy.”

  Fury ignited within Magnus’s chest, but when he felt the heat of emerald fire creeping up his throat, he pushed it back down. Even so, he couldn’t keep his nostrils from smoking.

  He’d already made up his mind, though, about this situation. Magnus would neither allow the King to imprison his friends, nor would he allow Lumen to keep him from intervening on their behalf.

  “Mighty Dragon King,” Lumen’s voice took on a hint of warning, “what scheme are you mulling inside your head?”

  Magnus had to admit—Lumen was perceptive. Yet he saw no reason to conceal his intentions. “If you will not negotiate on their behalf, then I will go to the King myself and personally see it done.”

  Lumen fully squared himself with Magnus, and his hands relaxed at his sides. The motion struck Magnus as simultaneously docile and threatening—almost menacing. His gleaming sword still hung at his belt, within easy reach of his hand.

  “I cannot allow you to put yourself in such peril,” Lumen said. “The fate of our campaign relies on your presence and that of your army. Who would lead them should something happen to you as well?”

  Magnus weighed Lumen’s words. Coupled with Lumen’s stance and positioning, they heightened the threat Magnus had already perceived.

  Yet Lumen needed Magnus’s strength—both his actual physical ability and power, as well as his army of Saurians. If Lumen followed through on his threat, and if they came to blows, Magnus couldn’t be sure he’d survive the encounter. Even if he did, what condition would he be in afterward?

  He’d seen Lumen slay a Jyrak with a single strike. What would prevent him from doing the same to Magnus, even in spite of his size and the resilience of his scales?

  Magnus’s eyes narrowed. He was overthinking it. It was foolishness to imagine that Lumen, the Unifier of Kanarah, would kill an ally simply for disagreeing with him.

  Or was it?

  Magnus studied Lumen’s burning eyes. The General of Light had only one objective: to rule Kanarah in place of the King. If he was willing to uproot the entirety of Kanarah’s society and government in order to achieve that end, then it wasn’t a stretch to believe he’d walk right through Magnus or anyone else who stood in his way.

  With that solemn conclusion in mind, Magnus relented—at least openly.

  “Very well,” he finally said. “If we are not pursuing their return, what is our next step?”

  Lumen folded his powerful arms, and the pervading sense of danger ringing in the back of Magnus’s mind subsided.

  “We will press our advantage, as I said,” he asserted. “We will attack Solace, and we will take Valkendell as our own.”

  When Calum’s eyes opened, towers of glistening white stone loomed overhead. With the exception of the platforms that reached above the clouds in the Sky Realm, they were the tallest structures he’d ever seen—dwarfing even the enormity of the Crimson Keep.

  Where am I?

  The sound of wagon wheels rolling over a street registered in his ears, and he found himself lying atop a wagon filled with hay, with his head at the back end and his feet toward the front. He blinked against the brightness of the morning sun shining in the blue sky overhead, and he rubbed his eyes—or rather, he tried to but found he couldn’t.

  Short chains, no longer than a few inches, bound him to the top of the wagon, both at his wrists and ankles. He blinked hard to clear the haziness from his vision.

  When he looked down, he no longer wore the red armor he’d received from the armory at the Sky Fortress but rather only his underclothes. Nor was his weapon—the Dragon’s Breath sword—anywhere to be found.

  Calum tried to sit up, or at least lean his head forward to get another look around, but the wagon passed under a bridge or something—no, it had carried him inside one of the tall towers of white.

  It was a tunnel. Where it was going, Calum didn’t know, but it couldn’t be anywhere good. He tried to look back, but the wagon’s short walls obscured his sight.

  As the wagon descended deeper into the inky darkness within the bowels of the tower, The brief sense of confusion he’d experienced upon waking up faded, and his memory cycled back to the last thing he could remember: the battle with the Imperator.

  Captain Anigo had escaped.

  Axel had been knocked clear across the battlefield, and his body had slammed into a wooden cart, reducing it to splinters.

 
The Dragon’s Breath sword had failed to damage the Imperator’s amethyst and diamond-forged weapons.

  And at the end, the Imperator had delivered a final blow to Calum. He’d presumed the blow would’ve ended his life, but now he registered only a dull pain in his head, and his arm had been dislocated as well. He looked down and tried to move his left shoulder. It ached with angry pain, but it was still functional.

  The Imperator had let him live. But why?

  The answer, Calum decided, wasn’t all that complex. They’d captured him and taken him back to Solace—the King’s city, and the capital of Kanarah—for execution. Maybe he’d get a trial, but even if he did, it wouldn’t be a fair one, especially with Captain Anigo around to speak against him.

  Now, there in the dark beneath the tower, Calum could recognize the truth: the Imperator’s mercy—if it could be called that—would only delay the inevitable. Calum would still die at the hands of the King’s men, just as his parents had so many years before.

  Unless he could do something about it.

  As the darkness of the tunnel further enveloped him, Calum maneuvered his wrist, took hold of the chain securing him to the wagon, and focused on his left hand. He’d never done this before, but based on the burning sensation that spread farther and farther up his arm with each use of Lumen’s light, he knew there had to be some real power behind it.

  He squeezed the thick chain tighter and summoned the light from within. His palm began to glow, muted by the cold metal of the chain, but still obvious against the profound dark of the tunnel. The power’s familiar burn reached up to his elbow this time, then past it into his biceps and triceps, creeping steadily closer to his shoulder the more he used it.

  “What’s that light?” a voice called from somewhere ahead of the wagon.

  Calum’s heart rate multiplied. If only he’d awakened sooner, he could’ve tried this in the sunshine where it would’ve been less noticeable. But he hadn’t, so this was his only choice—and possibly his only chance. He gritted his teeth and pushed the limits of his concentration, funneling every ounce of power he could feel into his left hand.

  The chain glowed red hot, as if it had just come out of a blacksmith’s fire. Then it shattered in Calum’s hand.

  It surprised him—shocked him, even—but it had worked. His left hand was free.

  “Hey!” another voice, this one much closer shouted. “Stop!”

  With his left hand still burning white-hot and his shoulder aching from being previously dislocated, Calum ripped the chains from his right hand and both ankles away. They broke even easier than the first one had.

  He was free—from his shackles, anyway.

  Now he had to deal with the King’s soldiers around him, however many there were.

  The light in his left hand faded to nothing, as did the burning in his left arm and lower shoulder, and the darkness quickly returned as Calum moved to jump off the wagon and start running. He found he couldn’t see anything—the light had scarred his vision, and his eyes hadn’t had time to readjust to the deep black of the tunnel.

  More shouts, then the clamor of footsteps. Calum jumped off the wagon anyway. His boots—at least they hadn’t taken those from him—hit the solid floor, and he turned to run, but a set of hands caught him before he could advance.

  Calum’s left hand shot up, and he summoned Lumen’s power again, full force. This time, Calum kept his eyes shut as the light in his palm flared like a miniature sun.

  The burn climbed into the middle of his shoulder, but the pained shout of the man who’d grabbed him stole Calum’s focus. The light had done its job, and the man released his grip.

  Calum shoved the man back and ran.

  Ahead of him, the distant light at the end of the tunnel was nothing more than a shining pinprick against the expansive shadows of the tunnel. His own light had faded to a gentle glow, just enough for him to see in the dark without blinding himself.

  But before he could run toward his escape, half a dozen soldiers clad in silver armor formed a barrier. They all held swords in one hand, and with the others, they shielded their eyes against another potential burst of light.

  He couldn’t get out that way. If he’d had the Dragon’s Breath sword and his armor, then maybe, but not without them.

  Calum whirled back toward the front of the wagon. The man he’d blinded groped for his legs, but Calum gave him a swift kick to his nose that stunned him anew. Then he grabbed the soldier’s sword and hacked at the traces securing the horse to the wagon until they snapped.

  The horse whinnied and rose up on its hind legs, but as it came down, Calum grabbed its saddle and leaped atop its back. With the horse’s reins in his glowing hand and his stolen sword in the other, Calum sped deeper into the tunnel, away from the soldiers. If he couldn’t escape the way he’d come in, he’d just have to find some other way out.

  The soldiers shouted at him from behind, but he wasn’t about to stop now. Amid the clopping of the horse’s hooves, their footsteps gradually faded away.

  Calum let the light in his left palm flare brighter, but not brightly enough that it would blind him or the horse, and not hot enough that it would sear through the reins. The burn in his arm now reached up to the middle of his shoulder, but it wasn’t as severe as before.

  He still didn’t know why it hurt in the first place, and he hadn’t thought to ask Lumen about it when he’d had the chance. Perhaps the power was gradually remaking him, forging him like a blacksmith’s flames into a more dangerous version of himself. The awakening of the light’s destructive power certainly seemed to suggest that was the case.

  For now, Calum focused on the road ahead.

  The tunnel gradually curved to the left, and ahead, the orange glow of firelight gradually banished more and more of the darkness. After a few more minutes, Calum reached a large gate made of black iron bars. No soldiers guarded it, so he figured it must be locked.

  Sure enough, when Calum dismounted the horse and checked, the door in the center refused to budge. With his sword still in his right hand, he pressed his left palm against the locking mechanism and summoned Lumen’s light. It flared, and like the chains, the metal glowed bright red and then shattered.

  Flecks of fiery metal pelted Calum’s arms and chest, singeing his clothes and threatening to burn his skin. He stepped back, let the light in his hand fade, and brushed off the debris. The burning had nearly reached the top of his shoulder now. If he kept using the power, it wouldn’t be long until the burn reached his chest or his neck.

  What would happen then? Would it transform him into a being of light like Lumen? Would his power increase?

  He’d keep using the light when he needed to, and he’d let the power run its course. So far he could tolerate the burn, even at its worst, at least for a little while.

  He’d tolerate it forever if it kept him from being weak.

  Calum pulled the door open and ventured inside the gate. Wrought-iron torches punctuated the tan walls, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much of the stone that made them up had come from the very quarry where he’d grown up.

  No time to linger in the past, he decided. He couldn’t afford distractions. He had to find a way out.

  The hall leading from the gate had a much higher ceiling than the tunnel itself—perhaps twenty or thirty feet up, and vaulted. It gave the otherwise drab hall a hint of elegance.

  Thanks to the height of the ceiling, for the first time since waking up, Calum thought of Lilly. What had happened to her? Had she survived the battle?

  Flanked with her Royal Guard and Condor, not to mention General Tolomus and General Balena and their army of Wisps, she was probably fine. Even so, Calum couldn’t know for sure, and that gnawed at him. He cast a silent prayer to the Overlord on her behalf. Whether or not it would do any good, he didn’t know.

  His thoughts continued to wander along with his footsteps. Thus far, the halls had remained empty, but he stayed vigilant while considering potentia
l outcomes of the battle.

  The relative calm also gave him time to consider his own position. By now, the soldiers who’d been escorting him into the guts of this tower had likely raised some sort of alarm as to his whereabouts. That realization quickened Calum’s steps.

  As he progressed, Calum encountered multiple branches where the hall split off in other directions or intersected with other halls. None of the paths were labeled or had any distinguishing features; the same high ceilings, tan walls, and wrought-iron torches repeated with each new path he encountered.

  Calum suspected this was by design. He was being taken here as a prisoner, so one of these paths likely led to a dungeon or jail cells of some sort. Should anyone escape confinement, they would find themselves in a labyrinth of nearly identical halls, stretching out in every conceivable direction and crisscrossing in a seemingly random arrangement.

  Then Calum spotted a small yet crucial difference. Occasionally, one branch would take a modest incline. The hall would steadily and subtly climb upward. A malnourished, confused, and desperate prisoner would almost certainly have missed it, and even Calum hadn’t noticed it at first, but now that he had, it gave him a path to follow.

  Whether or not it was the right one, only time would tell.

  Soon after traversing a few of those inclining halls, Calum noticed changes to the walls around him. The tan stone walls went away, replaced by walls of white stones akin to the ones he’d seen on the outside of the towers when he’d first awakened.

  Here in the torchlight, they still glistened, but not to the same degree as under the light of the sun. Even so, they signaled to Calum that he was, in fact, making progress.

  Additionally, he encountered his first doorway. He slowed as he approached it and, upon finding a closed wooden door, he crept past.

  The doorways became more and more frequent the farther he progressed through the halls, and before long, he heard the telltale sounds of people bustling within the rooms and occasionally walking through the halls.

  With a sword in his hand and wearing only underclothes, he knew he stood out like a stone-crushed thumb. He needed some sort of disguise, or he’d perpetually be darting in and out of rooms, trying to hide.