by Levi Samuel
Kashien watched him leave. Returning his focus to the magical page, he carefully lifted the scroll and blew across the lettering, ensuring the ink had settled. Rolling it into a tube, he tied a small piece of sinew around the page and tucked it into his belt pouch.
A cool afternoon breeze carried across the sand, bringing with it the scent of cooked meat.
Demetrix looked up from the unique arrow he’d been given, seeing a wild boar roasting over one of the fires. His stomach rumbled from the smell. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a solid meal. Instead, he’d been living on dried meats, hard tack, and whatever it was the dalari served when in the field. It had a similar taste and texture to food. But he wasn’t entirely sure that’s what it was. Forcing the thoughts of food from his mind, he returned his focus to the smoked arrow shaft. He couldn’t fathom how such an arrow was even crafted. There wasn’t a single component on the simple device made of familiar materials.
Seeing the lone dalari, sitting on one of the fallen sections of the makeshift barricade, Gareth approached and took a seat next to him.
“Whatcha’ got there?”
“An arrow.”
“Well, no shit. I can see that much. Why you lookin’ at it like it stole your coin purse?”
“It was given to me by some kind of elite archer. Kashien said it was a horator, whatever that means.” Demetrix flipped the one of a kind arrow around and plunged it into his sheath, ensuring it found the divider separating it from the others. “What are you out doing? I’m surprised you aren’t spending all your time with Alonia.”
Gareth shrugged, “She’s great and all, but she’s not Sorena. Now, don’t get me wrong. Lords know I’d smash given the opportunity. But more than that? I’m not sure I’m wired for the family life anymore.”
“That’s your call, brother. Just don’t let stubbornness get in the way of being happy. And she seems to make you somewhat happy.”
“There’s certainly a kindred spirit type of thing going on. And she’s taught me quite a bit about what I can do. I’ve still more to learn, but I’ll figure it out. I just don’t think I could ever really be with her.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, somehow, in a way that I won’t even pretend to understand, we went back in time. With my luck, she’s probably my great-great grandmother or something. And I know you assholes. If I tapped, you fuckers would never let me live it down.”
Demetrix chuckled, knowing Gareth was right. But only because he’d do the same were the roles reversed.
“Besides, she wants to go home. Can’t say as I blame her after what she’s been through. I’d probably want to go home too. Hell, I’ve been through what she’s been through and if memory serves, Marbayne was the first place I went of my own accord.”
“Has she healed up enough to make the trip?”
“I doubt it. She’s like me. She wants to make it whether she’s fully healed or not. Apparently the devonie are a hard headed and strong-willed people.”
“You know, I always wondered where you got it from.”
“Shut up.” Gareth bumped Demetrix’s shoulder, knocking his balance off the rough barked log forming the collapsed section. “Knowing she’s not healed enough to make the trip, I don’t feel right letting her go alone. Gods know what lies between here and there. And I can’t rightly go with her as Kashien has asked us to march in the morning.”
“You could always ask if some of the dalari would accompany her. Ravion made quite the impression on a number of them. If he were to ask, I’m sure they’d be chomping at the bit to escort her.”
“How is Ravion? He seems better since I kicked his ass. Just further evidence that everyone needs a good beatin’ every now and then. It keeps ‘em in check.”
“You’re long overdue, my friend.” Demetrix returned the shoulder jab, forcing Gareth to extend his legs to catch himself. “But, Ravion. He seems okay. A little slow to get back in the saddle if you ask me. But he’ll get there. He’s been through some stuff neither of us could imagine. It stands to reason he’d be a little messed up.”
“I suppose. I just hope he realizes how close he was to death. He pushed me further than I’ve let anyone push. It took everything I had not to kill him.”
“I thank you for that. And I understand your position. I won’t try to convince you of anything, but I think he’ll be okay. He just needs some time to get everything figured out. And from what I understand, he took the first step toward that today by helping Kashien cast the daylight curse.”
Gareth nodded, refusing to climb back onto the round beam. Clapping the young ranger on the shoulder, he turned to walk away. “I guess I’m gonna’ go find Ravion and see if he can talk to some of those Dalari for me. I’d feel better just knowing she had someone to see her home.”
“Do what you’ve got to do, brother. I think I’m going to grab me a piece of that boar while it’s still hot.” Demetrix jumped from his perch, his boots sinking slightly into the sand.
Gareth made his way across the encampment, searching for a familiar face. Seeing Trendal, he gave a respectful nod as he passed. The dalari seemed occupied with his thoughts. It would be a crime to rob him of them. Gareth recalled what it was like to lose his love. There was nothing more painful or soul shattering than that. If Trendal was to get through it, he’d have to find his own outlet. And judging from the way many regarded Gareth as little more than a grizzled cutthroat, it was probably best he didn’t inspire the man to follow his lead. Passing into the command tent, he found Ravion and Kashien staring over the thin, black book.
“All I’m saying is that book contains the world’s darkest secrets. Things even the gods don’t want known. We have to be careful not to uncover something we shouldn’t know.” Kashien pleaded, explaining his desire to close the book and forget about it.
“I don’t disagree with any particular part. But the dreualfar have had this book for months. And clearly Jorin’otth showed them how to read it. It’d be foolish to ignore the fact that they probably learned more than a single spell from it.” Ravion retorted, holding his ground.
“Just promise me, once this is—.” Kashien paused, looking up to see Gareth. “Ah, Master Gareth. What brings you here? Your friend was moved to her own tent this morning.”
“I’m aware. I actually came to ask a favor. Of both of you,” Gareth’s gaze darted from Kashien to Ravion.
“Anything.” Ravion replied, closing the book and scooting it away from him. Taking a leaning rest against the table top, he devoted his full attention to his closest friend.
“It’s Alonia. She wants to go home. I tried convincing her to stay until she was healed, but she insists. She wants to leave when we set out tomorrow morning. And I can’t rightly abandon my post to go with her. I was hoping, you’d be willing to part with a few men that could accompany her? I hear there are a few that have developed some loyalty to Ravion. If that’s the case, I’d prefer to send some of them. Matters of trust and all that.”
Kashien thought on it for a moment, “It would be wise to send her home with an escort. Her injuries aside, she’s the daughter to their Tsar. Showing that kind of support would undoubtedly aid in restoring relations between our two peoples. Besides, what difference will a few men make? Ravion, if you wish, I’ll allow you to pick the men. Matters of trust and all that.” The dalari prince smiled, mimicking Gareth’s words.
“My pleasure.” Ravion bowed, showing his gratitude toward the situation. “I’d like to start with Morena and Stot. As I’ve fought side by side with them, I believe they’d make effective team leaders, considering this group is unlikely to have an officer.”
Kashien nodded his agreement. “Consider both promoted. And I’ll allow you to send eighteen others, in addition to your lieutenants. That should be enough to handle any threat they encounter along the way, yet small enough to hide as required.”
Ravion thought through the dalari he’d accidentally linked. He hadn’t learned
most of their names yet, but when one came to memory, he saw images of their lives nobody should know. It felt wrong, like he was looking into the most cherished and secret aspects of them. Judging them one by one, he gave a list of names, silently keeping track. They were his trident after all. And any weapon master needed to have full knowledge of their capabilities.
Chapter XVIII
Whispers in Time
“What do you mean, the dalari are marching toward us?” Tygrell shouted, towering over the feeble dreualfar messenger.
“General, Sir—.” The terrified messenger stuttered, fearing imminent death. “It’s a large force, several thousand strong. The bulk of their force, I’d say. They split at the Dune Plains. A few thousand went south. The rest, east. We trailed the larger group to the mountain range but they disappeared in the Caladine Pass.”
“How the hell do you lose an army in a mountain pass? It’s not like they could simply disappear!”
Jorin’otth watched the enraged dreualfar from the side wall, hoping he didn’t draw the general’s wrath himself. He’d failed enough as of late. Adding another strike to his record would certainly result in loss of life, be it his own or the general’s. Either way, it wouldn’t serve his purpose. It didn’t matter if the general wanted him dead. He simply needed time to perform the ritual before tensions escalated. So long as Tygrell used his brain, the very reason Jorin’otth chose him in the first place, his goals would be obtained. A dreualfar victory in this war was little more than a side effect.
“I believe they escaped into one of the old dwarven tunnels, Sir. There’s no other explanation for their sudden and unexpected disappearance.” The messenger offered, trying to back away without drawing notice.
“Then get your ass down there and find them. I don’t care if you have to explore every cavern between here and Alseaol. Find them or I’m going to pluck out your eyeballs and make you eat them!”
“Yes, Sir!” The messenger slinked away, disappearing out the door as quickly as possible.
Tygrell watched him scurry off. He wanted so desperately to kill the weakling. There was no room for such a delicate bloodline in his growing empire. The mere thought of the frail creature breeding made him sick. To continue on in such a state, growing weaker by the generation, his people wouldn’t last longer than a few hundred years. Only the strongest were worthy of spreading their seed. It was strength that was going to grind this world into submission. As far as he was concerned, the pale-skins could hide behind their high walls and magic wards all they wanted to. Soon the day would come when the very sun that offered them life would be turned against them. No magic could shield them from that.
Seeing the hydralfar standing along the wall, he felt his irritation rise. He’d proven useful in many cases, but his recent failures were growing increasingly frustrating. It was possible his little pet had reached the end of his usefulness, but there was only one way to be sure. “Jorin’otth, you’ve always had an answer for everything. Tell me, why should I spare your life today?”
“Well, General, if I may?” The hydralfar gestured, awaiting permission to layout the framework of his elaborate rouse. It was a useful tactic against the general. All he needed was a few complex words and a narrow leap that aligned with the general’s goals. Noting Tygrell’s silent and waiting posture, he continue. “It’s true we’ve experienced some unfortunate setbacks recently. I’ve never denied this, nor have I intentionally or unintentionally hidden it from you. We’re faced with the unforeseen. It seems these dreuslayers, as they call themselves, have been a thorn in many sides across a number of lands. I won’t lie to you, they’re exceptionally good at what they do. Especially when their motives are aligned toward a single purpose. I’ve spent many years in constant study of their methods, for the intention of destroying their order. But these are no mere collection of men or alfar. As you know, the dalari are an exceptional race with many talents unseen to the naked eye. The devonie are much the same way. I can’t say if it’s luck or simple skill, but each time I’ve moved against them I’ve encountered setbacks that were woefully unavoidable. It’s as if the gods themselves protect the existence of these few men. But I can assure you, had these dreuslayers never arrived, we would have already ended this war.”
“You believe the gods protect them? And that somehow, against all odds, these chosen dreuslayers were brought here to stop us? These three men? You’re basing your entire defense on divine intervention?” Tygrell burst into laughter, losing his dominating presence. “Of all the cards you keep hidden in those exceptionally large sleeves, that’s the one you chose to play?” He cried through tearing eyes and laughter. “I asked why I should stay my blade, not why I should make the execution swift. You clearly have a death wish, offering such ridiculous theories.”
“General, with all due respect, you’ve never encountered these men. Where I’m from, they’re responsible for the largest number of dreualfar deaths ever seen. They don’t retreat. They don’t submit. And as far as I’m aware, they’ve never failed in accomplishing their mission. I have no reason to lie about this, therefore, I urge you to take this threat very seriously. Such a boast would do nothing for me.” Jorin’otth walked calmly toward the chuckling dreualfar. It was rather annoying, being laughed at, but it didn’t change anything. He just had to complete one final task and he could wash his hands of the dreualfar entirely.
Calming his amused senses, Tygrell wiped a tear from his cheek. Still half laughing, he spoke. “That’s where you need to check your facts, Jorin’otth. I’m incredibly serious. I don’t give a damn who these men are. Whether they call themselves dreuslayers or shit sprayers. They’ve allowed you to fail. And failure comes with a price. You lost the book. You fell for a simple parlor trick and brought me a false eldarstone. Then you have the audacity to blame all of this on some mythical group that supposedly appears from the shadows to destroy my people. Please, Jorin’otth. I’ve had lingering shits that were more convincing than that.” Tygrell drew the sword strapped to his hip. The thick blade reflected the torch light off the walls. “It’s clear your usefulness has reached its end.”
“My Lord, your assessment is folly, I assure you. My death will lead to your defeat by the end of the week. I’m the only one you have to perform the ritual at Durnal Hill. That ritual is the only chance your people have.”
“Are you threatening me, Jorin’otth?”
“No, General. I’m simply stating a fact. You still need me. Without the ritual, you’re on your own. No god to protect you. No weapon against the dalari. You, yourself will perish by the end of the day if you don’t let me perform the ritual. This I’ve seen many times over. There is no alternative.”
“Then, my cowardly Jorin’otth, I recommend you get to Durnal Hill and see that the ritual goes according to plan. Just know, if you fail me again, you’ll experience a fate unlike anything that can be put into words!”
Refusing to give the general the satisfaction of proper respects, Jorin’otth turned and marched out the door. The time for respect had reached its end. The general was going to have him executed first chance he got. Just so long as he completed the ritual, he had nothing to fear from dalari or dreualfar.
The lone walk along the darkening forest road was eerily quiet. Jorin’otth couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched. Stealing a glance over his shoulder for what had to have been the thousandth time, he paused, searching the trees. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The churning in his gut intensified, twisting and squeezing. He thought he was going to be sick. Forcing his resolve, a realization hit him. There was only one thing capable of affecting him in such a way.
His heart raced. He’d been careful and used others to change things. There was no way they found him. Yet the temporal energies swirling in the air said otherwise. How had he been so stupid? He should have known they were on to him the moment he saw Demetrix. That was the only explanation for the dreuslayers’ presence here. The churning intensified
. It was getting closer. He needed to move now or they’d be on top of him.
A snapping twig echoed in the darkness, ringing out like an explosion in the night.
Refusing to look, Jorin’otth broke into a full sprint, rushing through the crowding trees and overgrown brush. Staying to the road was too dangerous. He’d been found. He needed to take less traveled paths. He had no idea where he was going and using his magics would lead them straight to him. Time was running out. He needed to reach Durnal Hill and complete his task. That was the only way he’d shake the dukes permanently.
A deep ravine laid just ahead.
He prepared to make the jump knowing he’d lose speed if he tried to climb the far side. Reaching the edge, he bent his knees and leapt. Flying across the deep crevice, he crashed into the leaf covered dirt. It sank beneath his boots and crumbled down the steep hill. Kicking at the loose dirt, Jorin’otth reached for a low hanging branch, hoping to halt his descent.
A pale, white hand shot through the leaves, grabbing his arm.
Caught off guard, Jorin’otth jumped, finding almond shaped eyes staring back at him. They belonged to a boy barely old enough to be called a man. There was no way he was out of his first two centuries. He relaxed, allowing the hydralfar to pull him up onto the ledge.
“Thank you for the assistance,” Jorin’otth bowed, showing his gratitude.
“My pleasure.” The hydralfar looked him up and down, clearly judging his less than pristine dress. Turning toward the brush, he’d stepped through moments before, he signaled. “What are you doing out here? Don’t you know this area’s crawling with dreualfar?”
