Sisters of the Blade

by Shawn E. Crapo

  Erenoth reached out, attempting to grab his younger self by the shoulder. But then, the scene disappeared, replaced by a swirling and another floating sensation. He was then dropped into another scene, laying half-naked and beaten in an alley somewhere in the City of Thyre. He was bloody and bruised, freezing cold as the rain pelted him, and half buried in broken crates and other garbage.

  He began to weep as watched. He remembered the destitute situation, having lived on the streets, stealing and robbing to feed himself, dodging city guards and other criminals.

  "Boy," a voice said behind him.

  He turned just as a man walked through him and knelt by his younger self's body.

  "Boy," the man said again, reaching down to check if he was still alive.

  He remembered the man. His name was Cresus, and he was a thief. The man had picked him up and carried him to safety in some underground compound. Erenoth remembered how the thieves had nursed him back to health, repairing his wounds, and giving him a sense of belonging. It was a fond memory, one that had stuck in his mind and remained there just as clear as the day it had happened.

  The scene changed again, and Erenoth saw himself with two blades in his hands, standing in the middle of a stone circle as several other warriors surrounded him, preparing to attack. This was training he remembered. It was the training that had caused Cresus to fear him. Never before had a thief ever passed this test. And never before had a thief been expelled for such ferocity.

  Erenoth watched as the other thieves descended upon him. Knowing that this was just a mock training session, he realized he should have followed the rules. But the darkness in his heart demanded that he prove his deadly skills, and that was when things had changed for him.

  He watched himself kill every single attacker one by one, slashing them to bloody pieces as his master shouted for him to stop. The other students in the observation balcony gasped in horror as their fellow thieves were murdered. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were not killers. They were thieves. Erenoth had broken the rules.

  He stood in the center of the circle, his blades bloodied, surrounded by the mangled and mutilated bodies of the other thieves. Cresus stared at him sadly, his teeth gritted with horror and betrayal.

  "Erenoth," Cresus said. "What have you done?"

  An arrow streaked down from the balcony, striking Erenoth in the upper chest. He remembered the pain, and cringed as he watched himself fall to the floor. Then there was blackness again, but brief glimpses of what occurred afterward. Several men threw his body into the river from the high cliffs, wiping the blood from their hands and walking away. Only Cresus remained, staring down at the rushing water.

  "Why?" Cresus whispered. "After all I've done for you, why?"

  The blackness came again and he was immersed in yet another vision. A man in a black robe stood over his body, staring down at him for what seemed like hours. His own body began to stir and moan, and his eyes opened slightly. The dark figure knelt down beside him, placing his hand on Erenoth's head.

  "Awaken my child," the figure said. "You belong to me now."

  Kalos was his name. He was not a man at all, but some kind of dark entity who served as the hand of vengeance. It was he who had inducted Erenoth into a brotherhood of killers; the Brotherhood of Kalos. There, he spent most of his adulthood, competing with the other assassins, rising in the ranks to become the deadliest and most prolific assassin in the Brotherhood's history.

  And it was there that he had found his place.

  But the vision didn't last long, only the memories. Erenoth was back in the cave, with Jodocus still staring at him from the opposite side of the fire. The assassin felt a strange sensation; one he had never felt before. Was it shame? Was it guilt? It was uncomfortable, but unknown to him.

  "What a dark past you have led," Jodocus said sadly. "All the more reason for you to be here."

  "Why?"

  "Your skill is needed," Jodocus said. "That is why the Dragon called to you, and that is why you must go to the tower."

  "I have no desire to go to the tower or meet the Dragon."

  Jodocus sighed, poking the fire with his staff. "It is fate," he said. "The Dragon knew you were the man to lead his spiritual crusade. His son will be the king, and you will be his prophet."

  Erenoth shook his head. "I am no prophet," he said. "Nor any kind of holy man. I am a killer."

  "Yes," Jodocus said. "But you will be one no longer."

  "Says who?"

  "Says the Dragon," Jodocus said. "He has offered you a chance to redeem yourself in the eyes of the Firstborn, and the Great Mother. The gifts you will receive will be greater than anything you could ever imagine."

  "What gifts?" Erenoth asked, remembering the blades.

  "You know one of them," Jodocus replied. "The others are far beyond your comprehension. Go and see. I promise you will not be disappointed."

  "Why me?" Erenoth asked, still truly perplexed. "I've done things in the past that could only be described as vile and…" he trailed off.

  "Do not worry," Jodocus said. "Anyone can change their soul, if they choose. Your first kill was one of revenge. Your father beat and tortured you. You acted only in self-preservation. It was only the fact that you did not realize that which led you down the dark path. If you had known you had committed no crime, then your life might have been different."

  Erenoth shrugged. "I suppose so."

  "Any sin can be forgiven," the Druid said. "All it takes is the willingness to admit that it was wrong. I know that you have regrets, and those regrets are what tell me you are redeemable."

  "The voice said something about me being the Dragon's shepherd. What does that mean?"

  Jodocus smiled. "Just what you think it means," he said. "A shepherd leads a flock. In this case, the flock is the people of Eirenoch. You will be their shepherd, and you will lead them to the Dragon."

  "A priest then," Erenoth said, not asked.

  "Yes. A Priest of Drakkar. The Mouth of the Dragon, and minister to the Onyx Dragon."

  Onyx Dragon?

  "What is that?" Erenoth asked curiously.

  "You know who that is," Jodocus said. "He is the heir to the throne of Eirenoch. The Son of the Dragon. The grandson of King Daegoth."

  "My original mark."

  "Yes," Jodocus said. "But not anymore. Nor will you pursue the Sisters of Gaia any longer. Your place is here, at the temple, and at the Onyx Dragon's side."

  Erenoth sighed yet again. This was all too much to handle. Just yesterday he was an assassin getting paid to kill someone, and now an immortal divine being called to him to be his priest. It doesn't get any stranger than that, he realized. But still, the thought intrigued him. His life had been rough, and he spent most of it hiding in the shadows, fleeing nobles and bounty hunters, having no opportunity to spend the gold he earned for every kill.

  It was a horrible life, he realized. He didn't want it anymore.

  "I've never felt like I belonged anywhere," he said, finally. "Not until now."

  "Good," Jodocus said. "The Dragon wants you to belong. You are a skilled warrior, and he needs not only spirit, but your blades. Put them to good use, and you will live for all time. You will not age. You will never get sick and die. You will live forever, and you will wield the power of the Dragon until the end of time—or his end."

  Erenoth began to feel a great warmth in his heart. It was a strange feeling, having some hope. His heart had been cold and black, and now it felt as if it were alive again, like a child's heart; innocent and hopeful. If this feeling could be made greater, then he could never refuse such a thing. It consumed him inside as he stared into the flames, drawing in their warmth and letting it flow through him.

  "I will go," he said, looking up again.

  Jodocus was gone.

  Igraina stood at the rim of Tel Drakkar's valley. The tower here looked almost identical to Dol Drakkar, with the exception of a few minor details she couldn't place. There was a circular
complex being constructed around it, much like the other tower, and again she felt the presence of the strange small folk.

  But what stood out to her most was the scene behind her. The southern reaches were rife with both primitive tribes, and semi-civilized folk who built stone and mud villages and tended crops. As she looked out over the darkened landscape, she could see thousands of fires, small and large, telling her that this part of the island was quite highly-populated.

  And dangerous.

  If the young heir were to survive, she realized, then he would have to endure many trials in his quest to unite these people. Among their numbers, she could sense a great rivalry. There was mistrust, war, superstition, and a number of other obstacles he would have to face.

  However, she could also feel a strong presence of the Great Mother. Far to the east, in the thick forests, there was a wellspring of Her power. There, the ancient inhabitants of this island had constructed great temples. Now in ruin, they were the center of worship until a dark time when those worshipers turned their attention to gods of the Earth and sky.

  Kingu. Kathorgo.

  She sighed as the names repeated themselves in her head. They began to merge together, she realized, until they were one and the same. Two aspects of the same being—a being she would soon forget once she had destroyed her last sibling.

  Igraina.

  The voice appeared in her mind suddenly, and she knew it was something nearby. She turned back quickly, seeing a small creature standing before her. She was somewhat startled, but then sensed that it meant no harm. This was one of the small creatures of the temple, she realized. Druaga. It was cloaked in black, with only the tip of its reptilian snout visible underneath.

  "Hello," she said, sitting down upon a nearby stone.

  The Druaga bowed its head respectfully, holding out one arm in an almost humorous display of politeness.

  I am Ado, it said. I am to be your escort and protector. As of now, you are welcome, as our Master knows you are an ally. You may enter the temple at your convenience, and will be allowed to stay until the Onyx Dragon arrives.

  "Thank you," Igraina said. "When will he arrive? I thought his arrival would be instantaneous."

  The Onyx Dragon is undergoing his transformation. His body is being rebuilt as he travels through the ether. When he arrives, he will be a new man, and his essence will be yours to ask for.

  "So you know my intentions, then?"

  Yes. The Dragon agrees that your offspring will be beneficial to the future of his lands. With your seed, the magic that drives this land will go on, even after his and your departures. You will give rise to future Druids and W'ikke. They will be needed.

  "That was my thought exactly," she said. "The Dragon is very wise."

  Yes. But, like you, it is easier for him to see the future than it is to see the past.

  Igraina cocked her head curiously. "The past? Do you know of my past?"

  Yes. But that past is no longer relevant. You are who you are at this moment, and always shall be. As the moment passes, so shall your being.

  "But I want to know," she said—pleaded.

  You will not remember these things once you have destroyed Lilit. But I will tell you. You were created by Kathorgo, who himself is but a fragment of Kingu's spirit energy. He is the Firstborn of Theia, who resides within the Earth, and his solitude has created his darkness. He holds Theia prisoner, not allowing her to speak to the children of Gaia or the Alvar who reside here. She is the reason the Alvar are here. They have sought her out to take her back to their own world.

  "Why?"

  The darkness has consumed their Great Mother, as it will do here. But Kingu knows this, and will not allow them to take her. Thus, your creation. Your sacrifice would keep them at bay. You were created to be the ultimate sacrifice to the Powers That Be. Your blood, and the blood of your sisters, would ensure that Theia would remain hidden forever. But she intervened. You and your sisters were expelled and sent to the surface, where you were all raised among humans. Lilit is aware of this, and sought to destroy all of you. She has nearly done so. Only you stand against her.

  "And if I defeat her?"

  When you defeat her, you will inherit the power of all of your sisters, and the being that you are will be no longer.

  "I don't want that to happen," Igraina said. "I want to remain myself—the me I am now. I want to help humanity."

  We will ensure their survival in the future, after the Great Mother has perished.

  "Why will she perish?"

  The false gods of the sky and the Earth will consume her eventually. They will do so by convincing future men that she does not exist, that it is they who are to be worshipped.

  "Then humanity is doomed."

  No. They will live on, as Gaia wishes. They will go on without her, and she will give the last of her strength to make it so. We will guide them to the future, watching from the sky, the shadows, and the Earth itself.

  "And what of Earth?"

  It will die eventually. But that is not your concern. You will help hasten this death, but it is not our right to interfere in things that shall be.

  "No," Igraina said. "I would rather die than help destroy everything."

  That is not your choice. Lilit must be destroyed, and your offspring must be born to help maintain the balance until men are ready to join the Collective. Only you can do this. This is your purpose. This is what Theia and Gaia have in store for you. Nothing can change that.

  "Where is Theia now? Where is Kingu?"

  That is not for you to know. You will seek out Kingu eventually. This we know. But that is for a later time. For now, do what you came here to do, and leave Earth's fate to the Norns.

  Igraina's heart ached as she listened. She didn't want to be the downfall of Gaia, or any entity for that matter. She just wanted to live among the people, to atone for the great sins of her past, and lead a life of virtue. But, she was resigned to accept, that life was not for her. She would fade into darkness, and her mind would be destroyed, only to be reborn as the very darkness she sought to destroy.

  It was her fate.

  "Fine," she said. "I am ready. Take me to the Onyx Dragon."

  Chapter Twelve

  The waves lapped gently against the hull of Neko's ship as it slipped silently along the coast. The captain had opted to stay close, keeping the shore in sight in case they had to land or drop anchor.

  Baleron and Ivar stood at the stern, watching the waters ahead for any rocks that might get in the way. Freyja and Odhran were both posted in the crow's nest above, and Alric was hung over the side of the ship, expelling his dinner into the waters below. The rest of the crew and its passengers found it amusing, and chuckled every time he heaved.

  Neko stood like a statue at the ship's main mast, signaling to Hakeem, who operated the rudder. The rest of his crew were crouched or seated on the many crates, keeping watch on either side. The night was still, as were the waters, and the only sound was Alric's continued seasickness.

  "He's going to attract sharks," Baleron heard Neko call out behind them.

  The crew chuckled, and Baleron couldn't help but join them. He turned around and leaned against the railing, watching the young Highlander's plight with a grin.

  "He's spent his whole life on the flat ground," he said. "The rest of us have sailed many times. He'll get used to it."

  "Not… likely," Alric choked out, prompting a burst of laughter.

  "It happens to the best of us," Neko said with a smile. "We were all once the same way. Except for Hakeem. He was born on a ship, and his father was a whale."

  "What?" Hakeem called from the rudder. "I can't hear a thing back here."

  "He said you were born on a ship!" a crewman called out.

  "So?"

  "Never mind, Hakeem," Neko said, laughing. "Steer back toward the shore a bit. We're getting too far."

  "There are fires on the coast," Ivar said.

  "Yes," Neko replied. "There ar
e tribes that live on the shore. Farther south there is a settlement right on the river. Much like Tannagard it's built right over it after the falls."

  "Sounds interesting," Ivar said. "I had no idea there were this many cities."

  "Some say a great port city will be built there someday," Neko said. "Once the Dragon reclaims the throne. I think it will be a good place for a palace like those in Thyre or my homeland."

  "Ship ahead!" Odhran called down. "Many torches aboard."

  "Take caution, men," Neko said. "Put out your lanterns. We'll try to slip past them."

  Baleron turned and peered off into the distance, seeing the faint glow of a well-lit ship on the horizon. Ivar grunted, leaning forward against the rail.

  "I wonder why they are so lit up," he said.

  "Probably a merchant ship," Neko said. "One that is well-guarded. Keep a look out for dark ships nearby. They travel with escorts in these waters."

  "Why?" Ivar asked.

  Neko chuckled. "To protect them from people like us."

  Ivar chuckled too, turning around to sit down.

  "We'll keep a close watch on them, though," Neko said. "Sometimes Thyre's fleet ventures west to hunt down pirates like us."

  "Could we take them if so?" Baleron asked, anticipating a fight.

  "Perhaps," Neko said. "It depends on how well your archers can fire."

  "They're the best I've seen," Ivar said.

  "Then it wouldn't be too difficult. A few flaming arrows at their sails and they're dead in the water."

  "They've turned toward us," Odhran called again.

  "Right," Neko said. "Tanog, get a bucket of pitch and a lantern up to the archers. We'll be ready for them."

  Neko pulled a long tube from his belt, extending it as he made his way to the railing. He pointed it off toward the ship and looked through it, grunting, pursing his lips, and nodding to himself.

  "What is it?" Baleron asked, joining him.

  "She has a large crew," Neko said. "And it's definitely a military vessel, but not from Thyre."

  "From where, then?"

  "Looks like Anwar."

  "Your homeland?"

  "Yes," Neko said. "And not good news. They're criminals who commandeer ships. Pirates like us, only murderous and without honor."