Amashanae - Book 1

by Timo Kettunen

  *****

  Raelia looked out of a window at the daybreak with her eyes narrowed to mere slits. The rising sun dazed her. Her hands were crossed behind her back and she clamped her teeth tightly together. She was still furious. They had opened it. She had an epiphany of what would follow. But she could never show fear even if she had wanted to. Lifting her hand to block the rays of the sun Raelia looked over to the yard of the palace where a part of her army was busy training. Goblin and orc regiments walked in echelons and trained in all sorts of tactical exercises. They were mainly mixed groups of warriors, thieves, murderers and other riffraff she had hired for few pieces of gold. She knew they were not the best possible fighters, or very skilled at warfare, but they also asked very few questions and were quite loyal as long as they received their gold. Humans did not get along with goblins and orcs very well, but Il’sharat and his special group of well-trained warriors cut short all incipient fights before anyone got hurt. Truth be told, sometimes somebody might get killed, but as casualties of war went these days, the numbers were utterly insignificant. That aside, what she examined from her high vantage point in the palace window was just small part of her army. Briefly she thought about whether she should recall all the scouts that had been sent out in search of the grave to safety. She knew that all those scattered troops would be serving as mere vanguards for the upcoming war, but should anything happen anywhere in the territories before everything was ready, she would know soon enough. Besides her army, she had much more dangerous warriors and creatures in hiding. Lesser demons and other creatures of darkness she could summon up whenever she wanted. Not to mention Firnaraee, the cornerstone of her plan to rule the world with fire and steel and to raise a war unlike any others before. But she needed to keep the dark ones in the other levels of the world still, because demons amidst orcs, goblins and especially humans would surely cause problems, maybe even panic, and she did not need that. Not for now, anyway. Still, there was much to consider and plan, even though she had planned for this her whole life. So she had shut herself away from her entourage, in her own chamber in the highest tower of her palace.

  The palace, Thraewyns, had stood still like a huge stone monster of history for centuries already. Yet it showed no sign of decay, because when it was still under construction, it had been covered magically to persist all the threats of time. The palace consisted of an enormous, triangular main building, clad in ornaments and carvings of the most intricate type. Upon its roof lay stone and marble statues depicting evil spirits and also the edges of the roofs were covered in similar gargoyles, twisting their horrifying grins in an eternal, frozen posture and scaring away any unwelcome guests. The sheer size of the main building would have been sufficient to nominate Thraewyns a castle, but it was the three marble towers extending from the palace sides that gave it its real face. They seemed as if they could touch the sky, and no matter from whence one gazed upon them, some magic made it hard to tell where they ended and if they really did point straight towards the sky or not. One of the towers reached a little higher than the others, and seemed to emit an extensive amount of magic, and this was the tower Raelia’s chamber was in. The palace yard was very big, and a big part of it served as a troop practice ground. The only area inaccessible to anybody but a select few – cult priests, Raelia and Il’sharat – was the temple on the right of the palace, where sacrifices to Firnaraee were carried out. There had been so much sacrifice in the temple over the centuries that it oozed a feeling and smell of death and blood and aeons of suffering, and thus nobody even wanted to get near the place. From within its walls a constant if weak chant-like mumble could be heard, and everyone knew that when the mumbling ceased, it meant yet another soul given to Firnaraee. All in all, the palace and its surroundings was an evil, fearful place indeed, and all its horrors were closed in with an insanely high wall surrounding the whole area, casting a long shadow within its circle. And above all this, in her chamber, stood the most terrifying aspect of it all – Raelia.

  Raelia was the thirty-second Mistress of the palace, as far as she knew. There had always been a woman leading the Firnaraee-cult, and it was as role one was born into, not selected to. Every mistress before Raelia had been very powerful in magic indeed, but Raelia was first to succeed in the ancient quest of the cult, or even a part of it. Yet no one did really know for sure – not even Raelia – about the time the cult had been started. Or who the actual founder of the cult had been. Obscure and ancient legends hinted it had been Morgur Thraewnys Ranael, a very powerful priestess who had established the cult. This seemed likely, for the palace was after all named after her. Everyone knew of the cruelness of the cult and usually no one dared to come even close to the palace. Nevertheless, thanks to the raids and constant pillaging attacks of the palace dwellers had lead to neighboring lands as far as a week’s journey away all through the centuries, the sacrificial altar located in main temple had tasted the blood of thousands of innocent people as offers for Firnaraee at a steady rate.

  The temple within the high walls had indeed been built for bloodshed, and the members of the cult did not even try to hide their sick and perverted rituals. Firnaraee had always been a great god to them, one of the most powerful demons of the long since gone times of forgotten magic. Its destructive force was known to have been immense, and its sole purpose was known to have been to rape and pillage entire realms and work as a true instrument of violent devastation. The knowledge of where Firnaraee had originated, or what god or being had hated the world enough to release such an entity into existence, even the oldest legends dared not repeat, and all the history of its origins was thus clouded. It was however known from old scriptures and legends that Firnaraee had, during its stay in Brodérunn, killed and destroyed hundreds of thousands of beings, until after an epic battle that had according to legends taken years. One of the Great Dragons of the times past, Bathalá, carrying Saint Diyòsos, a paladin, into the battle, had imprisoned Firnaraee, only to vanish into thin air after the deed had been done. The cult legends told of Bathalá and Diyòsos as well as Firnaraee, but always as enemies.

  The main reason the entire palace complex had been built in the ancient times had been to control Firnaraee. This was very clear to Raelia, and something she had always known. The palace was more than just a building and a site; it was a tool to keep a god under leash. Yet now it seemed that everything had been for nothing. Merely because those stupid orcs had opened the grave, Raelia thought. She had spent decades to find the grave, continuing the quest set in motion ages before she had even existed, and finally she had succeeded in where all of her foregoers had failed. But now everything seemed as if all the past had been erased, all the cards had been dealt anew and the game was about to slip through her hands. She was desperate, and she knew she needed to come up with something – anything – to gain control over Firnaraee, now released from its prison it had suffered aeons in, amassing hatred and power even she did not dare to think about. And she needed to find answers soon. After those stupid orcs had stumbled on the grave and the demon was released, it should all have been lost already. But luckily, having been imprisoned for such a long time Firnaraee was apparently reluctant – or perhaps weak – to re-enter the world and had created a barrier at the entrance to the grave to protect it while it would gather strength and get used to being alive once again. This was what had saved the day for now; as soon as Raelia had realized the existence of the barrier, she had made her own spells to fortify the barrier so that now even Firnaraee itself could not break it too easily. Perhaps. There was no way to know for now, but she was sure the barrier would hold Firnaraee for a while in any case. But she could feel that the time was running short and she was ready for any desperate measures already…once she could decide what they should be.

  Thus Raelia had locked herself in her chamber to think, exhausted from her spells and feeling the heavy burden of magic on her shoulders. One thing was certain: Firnaraee would get out at some point and release its
full powers of destruction towards whatever came its way. Not that that really much mattered to Raelia, no, she only cared about her personal aims – and those of her cult. But still, the spell she had used to seal the cave had claimed its toll on her, and it had taken all the night. So she was dead tired. She did not normally need much sleep due to her magical powers, but this had definitely been hard. At least for a time that I figure how to control it, she thought. She would have needed to be there when the grave was opened because only she had the spell, given to her as a birthright, to control the Firnaraee. A ritual should have been conducted and words uttered. And she knew that if that embodiment of darkness could not be stopped, it would eventually exterminate everything in the known world. And even if Raelia and her cult usually reveled in destruction, she would also be in mortal danger. And even if she survived, what good would a kingdom be without living subjects.

  Raelia turned again from the window and thoughtfully examined her chamber. It was a round room, lined with heavy shelves and benches filled with jars and boxes or various kinds, with a luxurious settee and a bed set near the window. It was plain to see the dweller dabbled in – or more like lived for – black magic and alchemistic sciences, with ancient parchments and scriptures piled high among the magical necessities. Besides a strong scent of incense there was an almost tangible feeling of magic in the air. Raelia walked to a desk and from a high shelf right above it she retrieved a small, lucid bottle containing red liquid. She examined the bottle for a moment and then opened it slowly. The bottle let out a lamenting cry and a part of its content materialized into a small, darkish mist in shape of an orb, and hovered above the bottle as if trying to break free. Quickly Raelia captured it inside her palm and pushed it in her mouth. After swallowing hard she poured the rest of the contents of the bottle in her mouth. She felt how streams of energy circulated criss-crossing her body and how her exhaustion started to dissipate. It was a magical potion she had made herself; the soul of an elf she had sacrificed. And it rejuvenated her immensely.

  Raelia felt her thoughts begin to flow more freely, and she thought for a moment about where Il’sharat might be just now. That elf was a total mystery for her, even though she had walked with him for several years. She hated the elves from the very depths of her black heart, but Il’sharat was something she could not hate. No, on the contrary he had often kept her warm between the sheets in her private chamber. Now, rejuvenated with the magic potion, this thought would not escape her mind. She had done a lot of work, and now it would be time for pleasure. But where was Il’sharat to be found when she needed him?

  “Damn elves!” she snorted. Suddenly she was startled by the realization she was not alone in the chamber. Il’sharat stepped towards her from the shadows and smiled unabashedly.

  ”You are beautiful when angry”, he said, and continued by bowing in a manner that could not be regarded very respectful, but rather exaggerated and fake. “Milady”

  Raelia looked at him with an angry stare, but could not hide the lust in her glare. She held her fatigue responsible for not sensing his presence in the chamber, but she was annoyed all the same. Furthermore, she did not know how long had he hid there in the shadows. Any other mortal soul would already be pleading for her life, she knew, but Il’sharat... he was no ordinary elf.

  Like any powerful witch, also Raelia had her share of curses to bear. She had always been powerful, and as such, numerous attacks by both experienced and inexperienced fighters and wizards had been made towards her. Either for glory, honor or revenge, many had challenged her. And always the fight ended the same way; the challengers perished one after the other. Yet once it had been different, and the scales of fortune had been tipped against her favor for a change. She had made battle with a very powerful wizard, and even though she had been victorious even then, at the moment of his death the wizard had managed to cast spells that caused great trouble for his weary victor. It had been the first and only time Raelia had really expected to die, actually to lose her mortal coil and be shoved down to whatever hell awaited her beyond. But Il’sharat had appeared as if from nowhere to her rescue and snatched her back from the very jaws of death. Perhaps it was due to her weakened state at that time, or the strange aura the elf had carried about him, but the very moment she had gazed upon the elf who had saved her, she felt carried away with a strange enchantment towards him. Raelia was immune for any spells of the kind that enchanted mortal souls with lust and affection, but this situation had somehow been different. Ever since that time she had kept Il’sharat nearby, unable to dispose of him, unable to let him go.

  Raelia gazed at the elf, shaking away her emotions. No matter if I let him lead me sometimes. She knew that if the push came to shove, she would, after all, get rid of the elf and not blink an eye let alone shed a tear. For now, she granted some pleasures of flesh for herself and tolerated his insolence. A powerful sorceress, an independent ruler as she might be, she was nevertheless a woman. And she had the needs of one. So she let him step closer, just a couple of inches away from touching her, before she swiftly raised her arm and brought her palm down on his cheek. For a woman she was incredibly powerful also in her body and not just magic, and Il’sharat was sent reeling backwards and head thrown to the side, but he snapped his face back very quickly. A small fire blazed in his eyes and he gasped, not having expected such a greeting. Raelia fixed her eyes deep in his, grabbed him and then unexpectedly kissed him greedily on the lips. For a second she looked like a vampire upon her limp prey, until Il’sharat responded and grabbed her in his arms. Words were not needed as their lips locked into caressing one another in desire. They both knew this game very well, and in some strange and twisted way they perfectly catered to each other’s needs. Raelia enjoyed causing pain and Il’sharat enjoyed receiving it. They were excited by each other and they harnessed each other, feeding their sick and perverted desires. The kiss continued and Il’sharat’s hands wandered on Raelia’s. They found the braiding of her dress and soon the gown fell on the floor in a heap. He caressed her black, thick hair and gently held her head in his hands, while his teeth teasingly bit her lower lip. His hands continued down her frame, and soon the lovers sank down on the floor of the chamber, locked in embrace.