Ascension

by Selena IR Drake

  As I indulged in the fruity sweetness, I thought about Ríhan’s quick blurt of Kinös Elda. It reminded me of the words spoken to me by the phoenix in my dream. Try as I might, I could not remember the long string of words, but I did recall something from that dream.

  “Does ‘tabiki ni heile’ mean anything?”

  Ríhan licked the fruit syrup off his fingers as he looked at me. “Yeah, it means ‘wall of fire.’ Where did you hear that?”

  Before I could answer, the Palavant stood and rang her silver bell. Silence quickly swept the dining hall, and I dared only to whisper, “In a dream.”

  “I have a special announcement this afternoon,” the Palavant’s voice, though hoarse, echoed off the stone walls of the hall. “A visit from the High Prince, Valaskjalf, has been confirmed. He shall be here with soldiers of the Dragonsworn in time for the Festival of the Phoenix. Because the High Prince’s visit is a rare treat for this Temple, chores will be assigned to each dorm in order to make preparations. Each dorm’s deacon will be given a list of those chores, so please see them later today for the assignments. For any questions or concerns, please speak with Matron Serenitatis.

  “Enforcer Maaz has had to leave suddenly for a family emergency, so his classes will be overseen by a very…” she paused, searching for the right word to use, “unique substitute. I expect all students and staff here to treat her with the respect she deserves.”

  I glanced at the faces of everyone at the round tables, looking longest at the white-cloaked Judge. The strangely familiar woman was chuckling lightly at the Palavant’s words. I guessed that the Judge knew the substitute of whom the Palavant was speaking.

  “Lastly,” my attention was torn away from the Judge as the Palavant spoke again, “Professor Urgeon has asked me to remind everyone that glasshouse plots will be coming available later in the spring for anyone interested in starting their own garden this year. Please speak to her if you would like to reserve one.” After a moment’s pause, the Palavant raised her silver bell and jingled it lightly. The dismal bonging of the Temple’s larger bells immediately tore through the silence. As if one mind, students and staff rose to their feet and began to file out of the dining hall.

  Ríhan paused just long enough to speak to me, “I have classes that I must attend now, so that means you are left to your own devices. Perhaps you should visit one of the Gods’ altars. They might be able to help you find who you are. Oh! And don’t forget to pick up your new pack from Ergen’s Leatherworks.”

  He was gone before I could thank him. I sat in my spot on the bench and watched as he and the others quickly vanished through the large double doors. When the thunder of footsteps finally faded into silence, I sighed. The sound seemed to echo in the vastness of the room and I was once again reminded of my dream and of the strange book in my possession. Perhaps Ríhan was right; I should visit the altars of the Gods for answers… If only I wasn’t so afraid to.

  Rumors say that if but a link was ever loosed from the High Prince Valaskjalf’s armor, a slave could buy his way to freedom with it. This is not true. Gold is a soft albeit heavy metal, which makes it a poor choice for any sort of armor. The High Prince’s armor is, in fact, a mix of refined ores, which have been smelted and folded repeatedly before receiving a protective coating that gives it the appearance of being made of gold.

  – FROM “THE ROYAL BLOODLINE” BY ARCA FEYEN, COURT HISTORIAN

  Dimitri was glad for the suns’ rising. Their warm light melted the frost that had overtaken the petite camp in the night. The air grew warmer and, at last, he could stop shivering. He and his two companions did not dare to start a fire. The blaze and smoke would give away their position to anyone wandering the road. As a result, they were reduced to eating hard bread and salted pork for breakfast. Dimitri grumbled about the conditions as he ate.

  Godilai and Luna chose to ignore him. Godilai lounged in a tree, keeping her cyan eyes on the road for any travelers. She whittled a bone as she kept her silent sigil, an act Dimitri thought rather macabre. He wondered where the bone had come from, and what Godilai’s steady hands were turning it into.

  Luna asked Dimitri’s question before he could. “Where did you get the bone?”

  He listened to the answer, intrigued.

  “It is the jaw bone of the last Hume I killed.” Godilai’s voice was just above a whisper.

  Dimitri swallowed past the lump in his throat. Why was he so afraid of that woman? He had faced many foes in battle and never once showed fear, much less felt any. So why did Godilai have such a power over him?

  He dared a glance at her. Long, shapely legs covered by snug, black leathers crossed at her ankles. Her back was straight, even as she leaned against the tree trunk. His gaze lingered at her breasts, and he felt heat rush to his face. His gaze rose to her face. It was soft and angular, half hidden by hair as white as snow and framed by her pointed ears. She really was beautiful.

  Her cyan eyes met his. It was a look so powerful it made his blood boil. Dimitri suddenly realized why he reacted to her so strangely. He was in love with Godilai.

  Her gaze returned to the road, and she smirked. She leaped from the tree and gathered her swords. Dimitri followed her example and reached for his weapon.

  “Here they come,” she whispered. “Luna, take the other side.”

  “I wonder how many of his men will attack us,” Dimitri whispered as he saw Luna vanish into the bushes on the opposite side of the road.

  “If that fat Hume did his job correctly, none.” Godilai sunk into a crouch as she waited for the escort to draw closer. “However, I doubt this fight will be that easy.”

  “Agreed.”

  They lapsed into silence as the wyvern riders drew near. Vincent was in the middle beside the high prince. As expected, prince Valaskjalf was astride a gold wyvern and covered in golden armor. With a single link from his armor, a slave could buy his way to freedom. And Dimitri would soon wear the same armor—the perfect disguise.

  Dimitri breathed slowly and loosened his muscles. He counted the soldiers—three against sixty. He had faced worse odds. This battle would be over quickly, however. They only needed to worry about the gilded prince. Godilai whistled a bird’s song. Luna answered. As one, the three of them burst from their camouflage. The soldiers shouted in confusion, and their wyverns stumbled. Dimitri streaked passed them. His target was the prince.

  Many of the soldiers realized what was happening and forced their wyverns under control. They watched as Dimitri charged the prince. Valaskjalf unsheathed his sword and prepared to defend himself. He noticed that only five of his escort joined him against their attackers. All five were quickly dispatched, leaving Valaskjalf to battle alone.

  “Surrender, Valaskjalf. You cannot win,” Vincent said, thumping his wyvern on the neck to calm it.

  Valaskjalf removed his golden helm and glared at Vincent. “I never would have pegged you for a traitor, DuCayne.”

  “The real high prince stands before you, Valaskjalf, ready to once again claim his throne.”

  “What are you talking about? My family has ruled Ithnez since before the fall of Agasei. There is no other heir to the high throne.”

  Dimitri ignored the glare of the Gilded Prince as he introduced himself. “I am Dimitri DéDos, sole heir of High King Agasei and the Shadow Dragons.” Luna had been right when she said they looked alike. Dimitri felt like he was looking in a mirror.

  Valaskjalf scoffed. “Referring to Agasei as high king is a joke! He was nothing more than a power-hungry murderer, and Amorez ended his bloodline by killing him.”

  “You are wrong!” Dimitri shouted. “I am Agasei’s son and the sole heir to the throne and the Shadow Dragons. Like my father, I will use my dragons to claim my birthright and I will kill any who stand in my way.”

  Valaskjalf reined in his wyvern, preventing the creature from lashing out. “Would you kill me and my family for believing you will never achieve that goal? Amorez beat your father, and she will de
feat you!” Valaskjalf paused as his wyvern wheeled around. He dug his heels into the creature’s ribs and forced it to be still a bit longer. “You will never be King of Ithnez. The people will make sure of that, even if Amorez doesn’t strike you down first.”

  “Amorez?” Dimitri spat the name. “That wench is dead.”

  “Oh? And where is it written that she has indeed ventured beyond the Gates of Havel? You know as well as I that no such record exists.”

  “If she were still alive, don’t you think her presence would be known?”

  “Is yours?”

  Valaskjalf and Dimitri glared at each other.

  “What is your choice, Valaskjalf?” Vincent broke the silence. “Will you surrender? Or do you want to meet your ancestors in Havel?”

  Valaskjalf pointed his sword at his commander. “May the Five Souls forever curse you and your bloodline for this treason, DuCayne. As for your question of surrender, my answer is heile pricé!”

  The sky darkened immediately. Dimitri dared a glance upwards in time to see clouds as black as night explode with orange and yellow and red fury. The sky writhed and twisted, whirled and spun. It picked up speed, moving faster and faster until a tornado of fire touched down on the road behind the prince. It swept over Valaskjalf, leaving him unharmed. It struck the force of traitorous soldiers, drawing them skyward and melting the flesh from their bones until only black ash remained. An ebony snow fell softly around the stunned survivors.

  Speechless, Dimitri watched the tornado dance over the land, consuming everything it touched. He looked away from the fire storm in time to see the prince drive his wyvern into the forest. Dimitri swore and sprinted after him. The few remaining soldiers from Valaskjalf’s escort ushered their wyverns to follow.

  Dimitri was immensely grateful for his Dákun Daju blood. It let him easily catch the escaping prince. Valaskjalf wheeled and swung his sword, striking Dimitri in the shoulder. Dimitri loosed a pained yowl and slowed his pace slightly. When Valaskjalf’s wyvern passed him, Dimitri came up on the left and shoved his uninjured shoulder into the creature’s side. The wyvern released a panicked cry as it lost its footing and rolled into the mud and leaves of the forest floor.

  The crash threw Valaskjalf from his saddle. The prince lay in the mud, groaning. Dimitri slid to a stop and backtracked to stand at the prince’s feet.

  “If you had chosen surrender, you would have lived.” Dimitri snatched Valaskjalf’s sword from the ground. “Now, you die!”

  “Hydíca semít!”

  A spike of razor sharp ice exploded from the ground, nearly impaling Dimitri before he leaped into a tree.

  Valaskjalf jumped to his feet. “Medícté!”

  “How is it you have come to know magic?” shouted Dimitri. “Are you a Sorcerer?”

  “No.” Valaskjalf shook his head. “No blood but Hume flows in my veins. I am merely well schooled.”

  “Since you have such talent for magic, I will extend this offer to you just once—join me. Teach me the magic you know. In return I will allow you to live and command my army.”

  “Very tempting, but no.” Valaskjalf took a fighting stance and watched as Dimitri left the safety of the tree.

  “Then you leave me no choice, Valaskjalf.”

  The prince scowled. “May your death come slowly and painfully.”

  Both men stared each other down, waiting for their opponent to flinch. Dimitri adjusted his grip on the prince’s stolen sword. If not for Valaskjalf’s knowledge of magic, Dimitri would have a complete advantage. He watched Valaskjalf’s lips, wary of any spell that might be uttered.

  Valaskjalf took a step to his left. Dimitri mirrored him by stepping to his right. The prince took another step, then another and another. For each of his steps, Dimitri moved the opposite. Irritated by the prince’s attempts to circle around him, Dimitri lunged.

  The prince’s own sword sliced the air, barely missing as Valaskjalf ducked. He kicked Dimitri’s elbow, causing him to lose his hold on the sword. Dimitri flipped out of range and freed his double sword from its sheath on his back. Valaskjalf retrieved his sword from the ground in time to deflect Dimitri’s blow.

  “Daréta suahk!”

  Lightning ripped the air at Valaskjalf’s command, nearly striking Dimitri before he threw himself sideways. Both fighters were forced to cover their ears at the explosion of thunder that followed. Valaskjalf was the first to recover and wasted no time in lashing out at his would-be murderer. The prince’s sword sang as it sliced the air, connecting with Dimitri’s flesh. Dimitri cried out as the blade split the skin between his eyes. Hot blood gushed from the wound and rained to the ground.

  Dimitri looked up, squinting through the blur his vision had become as the blood coated his face. Valaskjalf was above him, sword poised for a killing stroke, and Dimitri could not find his own weapon to parry. Dimitri somehow managed to roll away just before the blow landed. He got to his feet and wiped the blood away. He still could not see clearly. He muttered a curse as a low whistle reached his ears. He heard a gasp and a sickening crunch, and then the prince fell to the ground.

  Godilai’s ghostly voice came from somewhere to his left. “You look awful, Dimitri.”

  “How long were you going to wait?” Dimitri frowned, relaxing his guard slightly.

  “Half a heartbeat.”

  “Let me heal that for you before you pass out.” Luna was standing before him now. She placed a finger over his wound. “Medícté!”

  Her finger traced the wound across his nose and to his cheek. There was a disgusting slurp as the wound healed. Dimitri blinked, finally able to see again.

  “That is so much better.” Dimitri sighed in relief and wiped the remaining blood from his face.

  He found Godilai standing over prince Valaskjalf. The jawbone she had been whittling was jutting out from the prince’s neck. Dimitri watched as she yanked the bone free and began to strip the prince’s body from its armor.

  “We will need a convincing story to explain your new scar and the blood on the armor.” Godilai said as she peeled the breastplate away.

  “We will have one ready before we reach the Temple,” Vincent said, entering the clearing.

  The seventeen remaining soldiers of the escort followed him. Each of them was visibly upset about the death of their prince but did not dare make a move to avenge him.

  “Here is the pri—the gold wyvern.” A soldier lead the creature to Dimitri’s side then retreated.

  Luna held the breastplate ready. “Put this armor on, Dimitri. We need to hurry to make up the time here, or the ferry will leave Sindai without us on board.”

  Dimitri looked down at Valaskjalf. He sighed then allowed Luna and Godilai to assist him with the armor. One thought rang clear in his mind and he muttered, “I should have studied more magic.”

  I had no desire to take a Dákun Daju as my wife, especially after losing my greatest love. Yet, I knew that if I truly wanted to set things right in this world, I would have to make peace with my enemy, and by doing so, form an alliance which would stand strong against the real injustices of this world.

  – FROM “THE DIARY OF AGASEI” BY AGASEI DÉDOS

  The bells had just begun their second tolling when finally I found the correct room. The first thing I noticed upon entry was the lack of desks. In fact, the only surface in the room, aside from the floor, was a long table at the opposite end. Weapons of all kinds were spread over its surface. Zhealocera stood before them, almost as if she were actually admiring the craftsmanship of the blades. I knew she really wasn’t; everything was Hume crafted, and she would never allow herself to admire something that was not Dákun Daju.

  Since there were no desks in the room, the students sat against the walls. I chose to sit on the floor in the middle of the room. The other students pointed at me a few times and whispered among themselves, something I had grown used to. Aside from Ríhan and a handful of other orphans, every student in this school had been sent to the Temple by
their parents to get an education. They were all alike; pompous brats. I could not stand them.

  When I belatedly realized the teacher was strangely absent, I began to wonder what was going on. The door suddenly slammed open, jarring me from my thoughts. In walked the most remarkable woman I had ever seen. She had no footwear and long claws grew from the toes she walked on. She was clad in white and grey leathers and some light armor. She had long, flowing stark white hair with long bangs that half-hid her angular face. Sharp, unnatural amber eyes glowed red in the light. And at the very top of her head were two wolf-like ears.

  Everyone was silent as this bizarre woman strode into the room and paused in front of me. She towered over me and her amber eyes seemed to study me for a moment. I saw here smirk briefly before whipping past. She had a tail! A fluffy, white tail! I couldn’t believe it.

  At the front of the classroom, she stopped and turned to face the students. “I am Freya Latreyon. I shall be your dueling teacher while Maas is away.” Freya’s voice was quiet and demanding with a sort of growl. She watched, unblinking, as three students rose from where they stood. “Is there a problem?”

  “You’re a Demon.” said a girl, pointing an accusing finger at Freya.

  “Yes, a Wolf Demon to be specific.” Freya crossed her arms. “Does that fact bother you?”

  “You are a freak of nature! I refuse to be taught anything by your kind!” screamed another girl. She and the other girl stormed from the room. Freya yawned, showing her sharpened fangs.

  “Anyone else with racial issues better leave the room now. I will not put up with it or have it interfering with the rest of the class.”

  “My parents shall hear of this atrocity; a Demon in the Temple, indeed!” The last student who was standing snubbed Freya before calmly walking from the room. The rest of the students remained seated on the floor.