Skies of Fyir Box Set

by Gabriela Voelske

  “That’s one thing I suppose,” Amnur responded blearily; the despondent tone worried Dumon, but he would have to wait for Kyrith to return to find out what happened.

  "Any other damage? Save me pulling you around," Dumon queried.

  "He punched my face, slammed me against the wall and then smashed my stomach a few times." He sighed, noticing Dumon's worry as he repeated his beating. Without a word, the healer ran one hand over Amnur's face before moving down to his abdomen and eventually his knees.

  "Bruising, probably bad bruising, but with demon skin? Always hard to see exactly. Can't feel anything immediately untoward and there's nothing to suggest anything more sinister."

  "I'll live," Amnur stated plainly.

  "That you will, but I gather the main damage here is mental, not physical," Dumon replied, placing his hand back on Amnur's shoulder to reassure him. Amnur, however, averted his eyes, staring at the cold, black floor.

  ***

  Kyrith slipped out of the healing chamber and with purpose, headed straight for the mage's room. He held the blood-soaked key tightly in his hand, feeling the wet metal and dreaded what he was going to encounter. He fleetingly surveyed the area before the room, but as night had set it, the area was silent.

  With a deep breath, he placed the key in the lock and turned. The scent of blood had hit him before he had opened the door more than a mere crack, unsteadying his nerves. Slowly, Kyrith pushed the door open and spotted the reason for Amnur's distress; mutilated bodies. He carefully approached them and examined their features; not individuals he knew but the horns told of their heritage. Amnur evidently knew these two and Nathaniel had decided to victimise them in a cruel attempt to control him. Despicable, it truly was despicable.

  Unable to do anything for them until the full depth of night had fully gripped, Kyrith backed out of the room and locked the door, hastily setting a course for the healing chamber.

  Once he arrived, Kyrith knelt down by Dumon who was still attending to Amnur and whispered his findings to the aged healer. Dumon took a sharp breath; it was no wonder the mage was so enveloped in grief.

  "When the castle goes quiet tonight I can slip them out and give them a proper burial for you," Kyrith announced.

  "That... That would be much appreciated, thank you," Amnur responded, feeling the tears in his eyes once again well up.

  "I would advise you to attend, it'll give you some measure of relief," Kyrith continued, but the mage shook his head.

  "He's going to be watching me too closely, and I can't afford to lose this support, not now.” He sighed, feeling Dumon stroke his hair slowly. Kyrith remained still for a moment, fiddling with the key in his hand.

  Eventually, he nodded his head, he understood the reason loud and clear. He too would have to be careful with the route. Hopefully, tonight Nathaniel would be tired so his guard would be down.

  "I'll see if I can you something to remember by, though I'm not sure what will be intact."

  "My mother and father always wore a necklace, if they weren't wearing anything else. They also had matching rings, but they sometimes took them off at night," Amnur spoke, trying desperately to picture them in an uninjured state. "I was given this necklace when I was young, to control my aether."

  "You have problems with your aether?" Kyrith queried, prompting Amnur to continue talking if it would calm him.

  "Mmm, when I was a baby my family became aware that something was wrong; my skin was always hot to touch, and I would never settle, often crying late into the night. Soon afterwards my skin began to be marked with fiery orange streaks, which is a sign of excessive aether; fire based aether in this situation."

  "I take it excessive aether is a dangerous thing? My magical knowledge is lacking," Kyrith interrupted, tossing Dumon a sly glance to tell him to let Amnur answer it. The healer did as requested, seeing the boy's ploy.

  "Fatal, yes. How long it takes to be fatal depends on the excess, a case like mine would've claimed me before my first birthday, if not sooner," Amnur spoke, carefully using one of his damaged hands to pry out the necklace from beneath his clothing. Kyrith took a good look at it; it was a silver necklace and hung from the chain was a crystal of an orange hue, surrounded with a silver filigree.

  "The crystal is the catalyst?" Kyrith queried, noting the colour matched his description of the orange veins.

  "That's correct, it collects aether directly from my body and stores it, dissipating the excess. However, it’s not an ultimate solution; once the crystal is full, it'll stop taking aether out of my body, meaning I either need to dissipate the excess manually or drain the crystal or both."

  "Oh? Is there not a more permanent solution?"

  Amnur weakly chuckled, wrapping his hand around the necklace. "Nothing ethical, no. Perhaps with blood magic but I'm not sure how much I'd trust someone with the intimacies of my aether," he replied, gesturing towards one of the aetherial lamps in the room. "It's why I'm known for a fiery temper, it's fairly literal; one way I manage my aether is to seep it out of my body, which becomes more prominent if I'm angry. The excess aether causes nearby aether lamps to flare up."

  "I've yet to see that, but it sounds interesting," Kyrith remarked, unsure what else to say to prompt Amnur on further. The mage was starting to pant, however. A result of exhaustion and pain. He noticed this and smiled, if Amnur could sleep, it would be best for now.

  "Shhh, let yourself go to sleep, it's fine, you'll be fine," Dumon hushed his patient, seeing Kyrith's silence. Amnur lacked the energy to argue it; even the cold, stiff floor felt welcoming right now. He closed his eyes and awaited the sweet embrace of sleep, finding it coming to him within moments.

  Once he had drifted off, Kyrith hoisted him off the ground with care and carried him over to a spare bed, allowing Dumon to wipe the blood off him and dry him before placing Amnur down. Once he was on the bed, Dumon set about patching up his wounds, checking periodically to ensure he wasn't waking up. Amnur, however, was unmoving, which make Dumon's work easier. After a while, everything had been tended to, allowing Dumon to relax.

  "I'll wait a few hours," Kyrith announced to Dumon, settling down on a bed nearby. He sighed, staring at the key in his hand, still picking up on the stench of blood that emanated from it. "Where do we go from here?"

  Dumon glanced at the young demon, questioning himself how to reply to that. Nathaniel had played a cruel hand; the implications of which threatened all of them. "Any suggestions?"

  "His aggression is getting worse, it's not going to be long before something major happens," Kyrith stated, not that he thought of Amnur's incident as anything but major. This had the potential to affect many though, increased agitation could spark the angels into action, assuming they had any demons left to fight.

  "You need to speak to your sister. If anyone can get us meaningful support, it's her," Dumon said, watching as Kyrith shuffled with unease. "I know you would rather keep her out of this, but I don't see us having a choice. If there's going to be a major incident, it's going to affect her one way or another."

  "I know." He sighed, clenching his free hand. "I suppose I just wanted more assurances, once I get her involved, we enter a situation we can't back out of."

  "Pretty sure Nathaniel already entered us into that.” Kyrith was pained to agree, but his words spoke true. The situation had grown beyond his ability to control it, threatening to create a behemoth if it could not be stopped. Shae had people loyal to her, demons who would readily welcome peace.

  "I'll sort out this situation first, then I'll head off in the morning to talk to her," Kyrith replied, seeing Dumon nod in agreement. He leant back, staring at Amnur while he slept, listening to his still strained breathing. The demon remained there as Dumon resumed his duties, cleaning up the blood that had been left on the floor and tending to the plants around the chamber. Periodically, the healer checked in on him, but he waved him on, mulling over the events that happened. He contemplated the best route out of the castle; he woul
d need to avoid guarded exits. However, Shadekeep did have places he could leave that were unwatched. Some of the windows had enlarged shutters as opposed to glass, allowing demons to fly in and out of the keep. The weight of the two bodies could pose him problems when flying, but at least he only had to descend from the elevated position.

  "Guess I should consider leaving," Kyrith said with a sigh, having decided his course. He slipped off the bed, giving Amnur one last glance; his breathing had calmed down now, a sign that some of his pain had faded away.

  "Be careful; while I expect the halls to be quiet, you only need one person to spot you to create a mess," Dumon replied, repeating the fact that Kyrith was all too aware of. "Don't worry too much about any blood dripping, I doubt anyone would pay much attention to it, they'd need a good eye to spot it at all before it dries."

  "I hope you're correct on that since I doubt there's little I can do to stop it." He paced towards the main door, taking a deep breath. Dumon tossed him a thin piece of rope, which he caught and stashed in one of his pockets. With a nod, he left the healing chamber and proceeded towards Amnur's room without a sound.

  Once he was again inside the chamber, he approached the bodies, noting the blood pool that covered at least a third of the room. Kyrith wondered if that would dry up before tomorrow without assistance, a lasting reminder was the last thing Amnur required right now. He had brought nothing to clear it up, so for now, he just had to ignore it and try not to step on it. It would be easier to drag the bodies away to check for any belongings for Amnur, avoiding the blood pool as best he could.

  With a deep breath, Kyrith steeled himself and placed his arms under the arms of the closest body and lifted it up, managing to keep it from dragging along the ground. He placed it down on the clean floor and gave it a proper look for the first time. Based on the shape, he had picked up Amnur’s mother, though most of her features had been obscured by deep lacerations. Nathaniel's hate for this woman was evident, the wounds extended far past just hitting vital spots. It appeared he purposely avoided key areas, aiming to make his victim suffer a slow, lingering death. Kyrith felt sick just looking at it; if it he was capable of doing this to a woman that he barely knew, what sort of cruel things would Nathaniel do to his sister?

  He dreaded to think of it. Kyrith shook his head, trying to clear his head of the thought. The young demon pried around the bloodied clothing in search of jewellery or something of note but came up empty. Next, he tried her hands, but he couldn't find evidence of a ring. Amnur had been clear that they wore rings, had Nathaniel taken them as a form of morbid trophy? He searched around her hands once more but came up empty, so he checked her attire for any pockets, only to find them all empty. Nathaniel had done his work with looting the body; locating the jewellery later would prove difficult unless he was brash enough to wear it in full sight of Amnur.

  He gently rested her body on the floor and fetched the other one; Amnur's father. His body was damaged, but the wounds focused on vitals, unlike his mother. Kyrith needed no explaining as to why the idea made him grit his teeth as he begun the grim task of searching for a memoir. Unfortunately, the result was the same as his mother; nothing to be found. The news was not going to help Amnur calm down, but there was nothing Kyrith could do to solve that.

  He turned his head back to the door and stood up, peeking outside to ensure it was quiet. There was no one visible, so he propped the door open and returned to the bodies. At first, he tried to lift both in his arms, but the weight unbalanced him forward. Next, he tried placing one on his back to distribute the weight. The sensation of the blood dripping down his back turned his stomach, but he kept strong, using the string Dumon had given him to tie any trinkets up to bind the hands around his neck. He then picked up the remaining body in his arms and hurried out the best he could, heading for the closest unguarded shutter he could think of.

  Every twist and turn of the corridors filled him with dread, but to his relief they were empty. His back was soggy, but he ignored the sensation, the strain in his back was starting to demand more than just discomfort. Eventually, he found himself at a shutter but was stopped in his tracks when he saw a lock hanging from it.

  "Because that would stop an angel," Kyrith hissed at the interruption, desperately searching for a key. On a far wall sat a metal loop with a single key hanging off it, the correct one he would hope. He shuffled over and grabbed it, awkwardly keeping the body propped up in his arms as he did so. A quick shuffle back took him to the shutter where he inserted the key and heard a reassuring click before the lock slipped and clattered to the ground.

  "Shit," Kyrith growled, yanking the shutter open before anyone came to investigate the noise. He placed one foot on the ledge and pushed off with the other, allowing himself to dive for a moment to get away from the immediate view of the window. Once clear, he spread his wings wide and banked hard to the right, causing the hands around his neck to pull tight. The darkness of the night made it difficult to locate a good landing place, but he succeeded in landing without colliding with a tree. Kyrith then proceeded to slip into the trees and weave between the trunks until he eventually reached the other side, greeting him with a vista of the sea beyond.

  Here he set the bodies down and let himself relax for a moment, staring at the soil below him. Away from the trees, the ground was much softer and preferable for digging, if it was going to be by hand as he had taken no tools with him. With a sigh, he began to claw at the ground.

  A good hour had passed before Kyrith glanced up again. He was unsure of the exact time, but dawn had not yet broken, that much was obvious. The hole he had dug was now large enough for a single body but no more, and he would not be honouring his promise to Amnur if he tried to force both inside, regardless of how bad his body ached. Kyrith regarded the situation for a moment, debating whether to make one large hole or two separate ones. With a deep breath, he started to extend the hole sidewards; they were partners in life, they should be partners in death.

  When he took a break next, the hole was now aptly sized for its purpose. He sat back for a moment, taking several deep breaths. Kyrith then retrieved the first body and placed it inside the grave, unsure who he had just placed due to the darkness. The second body soon followed, and he stared at them for a moment, examining their positions. Given the assault, he imagined they lived out their last moments in fear, perhaps clutching one another as Nathaniel cut them down. He decided to recreate a tender embrace, in memory of better times. Now they appeared to be the couple Amnur described, instead of just two random bodies placed next to one another.

  Kyrith then started to bury them, piling back the dirt he had gouged out until the ground was once again relatively level. Given the secrecy of the situation, he decided to try and hide the evidence of digging the best he could and leaving the graves without a headstone. As he stood up for a final time, he limped to a nearby tree and grabbed two leaves off a branch, before returning and placing them on top. They would blow off soon enough, but he had given tribute to their memories.

  With his task done, he stumbled back towards a village on the eastern side. Once in the village, he selected the largest house and opened the door using a key that he pulled out from a hidden pocket. He locked the door behind him without making a sound and walked towards the far door, barely regarding the fact the first room was mildly lit.

  "You're up early, or out late?" a voice spoke up, startling him. He blearily observed his companion, his tired eyes struggling to focus. The voice, however, was recognisable; Shae. "You're dirtied and bloodied, what happened?"

  "Nothing I feel like discussing right now," Kyrith replied, placing his hand on the handle and twisting it. He, however, felt hands on his side and back, tugging at his shirt until it came off.

  "This isn't your blood," Shae stated, seeing the lack of wounds on her brother's back.

  "Nope."

  "Kyrith, tell me what happened."

  "Maybe in the morning." He sighed; right now all he w
anted was to sleep, rather than block her out. Shae huffed, but the state of his hands distracted her irritation. They were raw, muddied and needing medical attention.

  "Fine, but at least let me treat your hands before you get them infected," she said, causing Kyrith to examine his hands himself. On seeing the state they were in, he consented. She led him down the corridor he had opened into a separate room with medical supplies and a few single beds, where she began by grabbing some water and washing his hands. Then she grabbed a cleaning salve and covered his hands, with any pain from the salve being lost on the exhausted Kyrith. Shae finished by bandaging the hands to keep them clean. Once she was done, she turned around to find Kyrith already napping on one of the beds, instead of walking the short distance to his own room.

  "Just what happened today?" Shae whispered as she sat on the other bed. Kyrith didn't always return home every night, but to turn up so late was unusual and in such a state. She untied his bloodied shirt from around her waist and examined it; there was dirt and blood, but regardless where she looked, the shirt was intact. Her hands began to search inside the pockets, finding a cold, wet object inside. She pulled it out and stared at the key, noting its construction to indicate it originated from Shadekeep. With a brief glance to her brother, she dipped the key in the bucket she had used to wash his hands and gave it a rub, watching as a faint black cloud came off before dispersing in the water. "Demon blood, but from whom?"

  She placed the now cleaned key down on the table in-between the two beds, leaving it in clear view for her brother. As he slept, Shae retrieved a fresh set of clothing out of his room and left it in a neat pile on the spare bed and then set about the arduous task of cleaning the blood out of his old shirt. Demons had found a concoction to denature the toxin that resides within their blood, the same compound that gives their blood the black hue. It, however, still took a lot of manual effort to clean blood off clothing, more so when it was as thoroughly soaked as his shirt was. Once she had got it to a satisfactory level of cleanliness, she hung it up to dry in her own room. With a sigh, she returned to the tasks she had been tending to when Kyrith had walked in; reading and writing up reports, re-evaluating defences and then the menial stack of stuff Nathaniel had dumped on her.