Izaryle's Key

by Levi Samuel

  A lone dreualfar scout rushed into the room, out of breath. “General Tygrell, the dalari—” He paused, taking a breath. “They— they have a— I don’t know what to call him. He devoured Maelis. Like sucked his magic, life, and all from his body. Nothing left but a withered husk.”

  Tygrell picked himself up. Dagger in hand, he approached the intruding scout. “Calm yourself. You say a dalari did this?”

  “Yes, General. He attacked our entire unit. Weakened us all by raising his arms. It felt like my insides were being pulled out.”

  “And how many of your unit escaped?”

  “Just myself and two others.”

  “You there.” Tygrell pointed at the dreualfar soldier standing beside Jorin’otth. “Go find the others. I want a full report from each of them.”

  He watched the dreualfar rush out the door. “And you. You’ve done well!” Tygrell stepped forward, placing his hand on the young scout’s shoulder. Feeling the young dreualfar relax slightly under the embrace, he plunged the dagger into his stomach. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. But I want you to understand that I can’t have you telling the others about this dalari you saw. Such a story would damage moral.”

  The scout dropped to his knees. A final gasp escaped him and he collapsed on the stone floor.

  “Jorin’otth, you’ve gotten your wish. You’re now my lead advisor. I don’t care how you do it, I want this machine built. You’ll be given command of one of my largest companies. Make it happen.”

  Chapter V

  An Unexpected Encounter

  Demetrix tipped his tankard back, taking a long draw. It felt good to relax for a bit. Though, in truth he had no idea what he was doing here. Sure, he was curious as to where the dalari had been all this time. But there was time to uncover that mystery. The more pressing concern was Ravion. Gareth wasn’t wrong. Something was clearly affecting his brother. The real question was what could they do about it? Setting the mug on the high-top counter, he caught motion out of the corner of his eye. The captain, Trendal he believed was his name, entered the small tavern and took a seat beside him.

  “Where’d your friends head off to?” Trendal asked, holding his hand up to signal the barkeep.

  “I’m not sure. Gareth was in here a while ago. Ravion wandered off after we left your commander.”

  “They seem rather on edge. That's nothing new for the devonie. They always seem to be pissed about something. But for a dalari, your brother has something else going on with him.”

  Demetrix tipped his mug back, swallowing what was left of the golden liquid. Setting the wooden tankard down once again, he pushed it toward the edge of the counter and signaled the barkeep for another. Sitting up straight, he flexed his back, giving a quick glance to the man in his company.

  “I've seen that look before.” Trendal picked up his tankard and took a small gulp.

  “What look?” Demetrix asked, watching the foamy liquid slosh against the side of Trendal’s mug.

  The barkeep took the tankard and refilled it.

  “Run down, tired, the thought of battles past looming overhead. You’re a man who's seen and experienced much. And you haven't quite figured out how to deal with it.”

  “What of it?” Demetrix took another draw, swallowing much more than he should have. He stared into his mug, watching his reflection stare back. The man wasn’t wrong. He was tired. He looked it. But the battle was far from over.

  “If there's anything I've learned in my time as a soldier, it's that there's only one way to deal with it. Duty. Force yourself into duty. You won’t have time to think about the ‘what was’ and ‘what will be’. I think I’ve got just the thing for you, if you’re interested. There’s a group leaving out at dusk. It's nothing difficult, just a scout run checking the southern pass. We're moving camp in a couple days and we need to ensure the way is clear when time comes.”

  Breaking his gaze on his exhausted reflection, Demetrix looked at the captain. The man seemed earnest in his opinions. But was getting involved in another war the best way to deal with his personal demons? “I'll think about it.”

  “Very well. If you decide to go, have your gear ready and be at the west gate by nightfall. You’ll meet Lieutenant Talaek there. He’s commanding the run so you’ll need to answer to him. Be sure you pack light, you'll be moving too quickly to be overloaded.”

  Trendal swallowed the last bits of his drink and set the tankard down. Pushing himself from the counter, he stood and marched out the door.

  Swirling the liquid around the inside of his mug, Demetrix watched the clinging foam break free of the sides and rejoin the liquid at the bottom. He couldn’t help but wonder why he felt the way he did. He missed Elalon that much was clear. But was that his only reason for the depression he’d felt inside him for months? Had he been simply going through the motions? Living a life of routine tasks and trained responses. There was little to no joy anymore. And yet he continued doing it, day after day. That wasn’t living. That was surviving. There was an enormous difference. Perhaps Trendal was right. He didn’t know anything about this place. Or even his people for that matter. Perhaps working alongside them would provide answers to both. Pushing the half empty tankard across the counter one last time, he tossed a couple coins beside it and stood. Stretching his legs, he lifted his pack from the ground and tossed it over his shoulder.

  A thin trail winded through mounds of overgrown brush, snagging against Gareth’s armor. He couldn’t be sure he was in the right place. He hadn’t traveled far from the camp, yet everything looked different than he remembered it. Suddenly, he was standing inside the massive settlement.

  The guards gave him a quick glance and returned to their duties.

  Scanning the large road leading toward the center, he saw Ravion marching away. Picking up the pace, he ran after him. Overshooting, Gareth spun, blocking his friend’s path. “Hey! What the hell happened back there?”

  Ra’dulen paused, studying the concern on Gareth’s face. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just something I learned in Irayth.”

  “You took a blast straight to the back. That should have killed anyone, or at the very least crippled them for quite some time. Yet you turned and destroyed him on a level even I thought impossible. Something’s not right about that!”

  “Let it go. I learned a few things to protect myself. That’s it. A simple incantation can weaken the infrastructure of most spells. That’s why I was able to withstand the blast. As for the other part, what can I say? I’ve spent enough time with you to know when I have to kill mercilessly.”

  “I may be a lot of things. And yes, I hate them with every fiber of my being. But I’ve never done anything like you did back there. There’s more going on with you than you’re telling us.”

  “Let it go!” Ra’dulen lost his patience. Side-stepping, he felt his shoulder slam into Gareth as he passed.

  Gareth spun from the force, watching Ravion storm off. He thought about following after him. This conversation clearly wasn’t over.

  “What’s going on?” Demetrix approached, adjusting the pack on his shoulder.

  Gareth noticed he was ready for travel. If he didn’t know any better, the young dalari appeared as if he was going somewhere. “Nothing much. Ravion being his new self. Where are you off to?”

  “Trendal offered me a scouting run. Figured I’d take it. I shouldn’t be gone more than a few days.”

  “You sure that’s a good idea? We don’t know anything about these people?”

  “It’s a simple run. Apparently, they’re moving the camp in a few days and want someone to check the route. Nothing major.” Demetrix adjusted the strap on his pack once again, hooking it on the edge of his shoulder pauldron.

  “Well, I don’t have much to do. Mind if I tag along? Ravion doesn’t seem to want any help right now.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but this is something I need to do by myself. Things haven’t been the same since we got back from Irayth
. I need to clear my head.”

  Gareth took a deep breath, thinking through his words. “I suppose I understand.” He rested his hand on Demetrix’s unencumbered shoulder. “Travel safe. We’ll see you in a few days.”

  “Will do.” Demetrix turned to continue toward the west gate. Freezing halfway through his turn, he stared back at Gareth. “Hey Gareth, thanks for bringing me home. I never told you that.”

  “Don’t mention it. I was simply doing what Ravion asked.”

  “I know. I was irritated at you for months for leaving him behind, but my anger was misplaced. I wasn’t mad at you for doing what you thought was right. I was mad because I wanted to stay behind.”

  “I understand. I was never much the apologizing type. But I understand your reasoning,” Gareth chuckled to himself. “Look at all I’ve done since my wife was taken. I’m the last person to judge under such circumstances.”

  Demetrix nodded, feeling for the first time that he truly understood Gareth. Glancing at the fading sun, he realized his time was running short. “Thank you, my brother.”

  “You’re welcome. And I’m sorry I took you from a place that became home. Safe travels. Come back in one piece.”

  Demetrix turned and rushed toward the edge of town.

  Returning his attention toward the inner camp, Gareth searched for any sign of Ravion. He hadn’t been distracted long enough for the scout to have escaped his vision, yet he was nowhere to be seen.

  “What the hell do you mean, we march to Drundale? Who gave the command?” The grizzled dreualfar shouted at the messenger. Small droplets of spit escaped like his words, clinging to his unkempt beard.

  “General Tygrell ordered it.” The messenger stated defiantly, silently daring the captain to protest. “He says there’s some kind of weapon close to your position. Wants you to group up with the twenty-first division. New orders will be given there. And, Captain Vaniar, these orders are not negotiable. The general says you’re to obey or face execution for denying his direct orders.”

  Vaniar clearly wasn’t happy about the change, but he wasn’t about to argue the point to this scrawny excuse for a dreualfar. Twerp would probably take word straight to the general himself.

  “Very well. We’ll head east. What’s the general want done with the prisoners?”

  “He said to take them with you. The Twenty-First is working on something that’ll require all that survive the trip.”

  “Understood.” The captain spun, barking orders to his lieutenant. As far as he was concerned, this conversation was over. The messenger was free to run back to kiss Tygrell’s ass. He didn’t need to grant permission for that. “Lieutenant Hermain, we’ve got new orders. Get your ass out here!”

  A smaller dreualfar rushed from one of the elegant tents comprising the fair-sized encampment. His breeches were halfway around his legs when he stepped out. Pulling them up as he ran, he approached the captain and offered salute.

  “At ease, Lieutenant. General Tygrell, the ass that he is, wants us to march east. Keep your cock to yourself and get the prisoners ready to move. And son, your fly’s still open.”

  “Yes, Sir!” The lieutenant spun around, fixing the last few buttons on his breeches and cinched his belt. He ran toward the tent he’d emerged from moments before and disappeared inside.

  Vaniar watched the young dreualfar disappear behind the flap. A mild smirk came to his face hearing the dominating orders escape such a frail being. He was still a kid, drinking and screwing each chance he got. A day would come when he’d be forced to take his job seriously. Though a little debauchery wasn’t a terrible thing every now and then. He certainly wasn’t one to judge.

  The confiscated alfarian tents fell with relative ease, collapsing to the ground once their ridged frames had been removed. Several of the soldiers went to work gathering the supplies and packing them for transport. Nearly thirty men, hydralfar, and dalari stood, stripped to their undergarments and tied to a single rope behind the wagons. Their hands were bound and feet secured to long poles, forcing them to step as one or face being drug by the others. Only a few of the humans appeared well fed and fairly healthy. One of the female men and two of the hydralfar women appeared pregnant, ready to give birth any day now.

  “The unit’s ready to travel, Captain.” Hermain stated proudly. He stood across from the rugged captain, refusing to move until acknowledged.

  “What? Do you want a compliment or something? Do your fucking job and lead ‘em out!”

  “Yes, Sir!” Hermain spun around and marched toward the assembled force. “Company! Forward, march!”

  The group roared into motion, forming large gaps between the front and the rear. It was clear these soldiers weren’t trained in drill. They seemed barely trained to follow simple commands.

  Vaniar took up the rear, watching the hundred dreualfar company abandon their station for the first time in six months. He couldn’t help but feel the general had information he wasn’t releasing. His camp overlooked the main southern road. Any dalari or hydralfar forces passing through were in ambush position before they knew what hit them. To give up such an advantage was either extremely stupid, or there was something of greater value. Either way, it seemed he’d find out which it was once he made the three-day journey to Drundale. Glancing into the evening sky, the thick rolling clouds were dark and ready to release their moisture. It’s rained nearly every night for the past month. Why should tonight be any different?

  As if the gods were listening to his thoughts, heavy droplets crashed to the ground. Within minutes everything was soaked. Water pooled on the ground, unable to be absorbed quickly enough.

  The army marched south, rounding the canyon to step foot onto the river road. Water lapped at its edge, eating away the packed soil and stone. They’d have to be careful. If the current had washed away the underside, it was possible the road could collapse under their weight.

  Lieutenant Hermain made his way to the front of the unit. It’d only been an hour since they’d abandoned their post and his legs were already tired. Taking a deep breath, he pressed onward, scouting ahead. Staring up at the cliffs above them, he felt as if they hadn’t made any progress. They were just now below the camp. He knew no one would have been able to set up an ambush so quickly, but the prospect made him nervous. Watching for signs of danger, he trekked along the road. There was no doubt the captain would have him flogged if he missed something.

  Rounding the northern bend, Hermain recalled the ford. If they could cross, it would shave half a day off the trip. Though, he didn’t expect such luck. The frequent rains had collected into the river, making the landmarks difficult to recognize against the high waters. It was unlikely they’d be able to cross anyway. Even when the river was down, fording was treacherous. It would have to be traveled slowly. The bank had been salted with sharpened flint to prevent travel. That was the only sure way to force any passing units onto the road and into ambush position. Yet now it seemed their own tactics were working against them.

  The rain slowed to a stop, the last few droplets settling where they’d fallen. The gusting winds carried upward, leaving an unusual calm over the terrain. The clouds shifted, allowing the beaming moonlight to pierce. The river bend was fully exposed for the briefest moment, revealing strange shapes at the ford.

  Hermain paused, squinting into the darkness. He usually had little difficultly seeing at night, but the cloud cover and rain had limited his distance. It would take a few moments for his eyes to adjust. Something didn’t look right. But he couldn’t make out what it was he was seeing.

  The moon glow reflected off the water, illuminating every detail perfectly. A handful of dalari had gathered at the ford. They clearly hadn’t crossed. If anything, they were doing the same thing he’d intended. Hearing the army moving behind him, he saw the whites of their eyes. The dalari knew they were there.

  “On your guard! We’ve got dalari scouts!” Hermain reached for his sword, hearing the swish of a bow string. Thr
ee pops shot pain throughout his body. Glancing at his chest, he noticed feathered shafts protruding. Weakness overcame him. Robbed of strength, he dropped his sword and fell to his knees. Tumbling sideways, he felt the freezing waters wash over him. And as quickly as it had happened he was gone, swallowed by the black.

  The army roared to life, charging the band of scouts. Arrows flew between the two forces, shot in the dark. An occasional arrow found its mark, dropping one side or the other. The muddy ground and moving clouds made it difficult to anticipate movement.

  Falling back, the dalari scouts clung to the riverbank, hoping to find a place to escape the army. They had speed on their side. The army would move much slower than their few. But trying to outrun them would be a dangerous chance. They didn’t know how large the force was. If they headed north that would lead the enemy straight toward the camp. That was unacceptable. Better they die here than allow the enemy to trail them back. Crossing the river was to only option, but chances for that were dwindling by the moment.

  The dreualfar pressed onward, closing in. It wouldn’t be long before the dalari would run out of room to flee. The cliff face wasn’t easily climbed, and the risen waters were surely covering the canyon pass. They had them on the run. It was only a matter of time before they could be captured or killed.

  Captain Vaniar rushed toward the front line. At least ten of his men had fallen to the dalari arrows. That was unacceptable. Bringing his sword across, he heard the wooden shaft snap and fly off course. A few seconds later and he would have had to pull an arrow from his chest. “Close in, you bastards! Deploy the left flank. Don’t let ‘em escape into the trees!” He watched several of his men break off, swinging wide around the left side. If they could close quick enough, the dalari would be trapped between the rocks, the river, and him.

  Morning light was just beginning the crest the mountain face overlooking the battle. Dense clouds of fog rolled in off the raging river, cloaking the area in a blanket of white. Bodies littered the ground, sprawled where they had fallen.