Relic of the God
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Echoes of Fate
Relic of the Gods
Philip C. Quaintrell
For Dippy, and all of your adventures yet to come...
Dramatis Personae
Abigail Rose
A human mage and late student of Korkanath
Adellum Bövö
The late General and member of the Hand of Valanis
Adilandra Sevari
The elven queen of Elandril and mother of Reyna
Adriel
The last of the elven Dragorn
Alidyr Yalathanil
Head of the Hand of Valanis
Asher
A human ranger and previous member of Nightfall
Atharia Danell
Hadavad’s apprentice
Bale Son of Hyil
A ranger and barbarian of clan Oakbreaker
Darius Devale
A human knight of the Graycoat order
Doran Heavybelly
A ranger and a dwarf of clan Heavybelly
Elaith Nevandar
A human knight and late member of the Graycoats
Faros Kalvanak
Boy Emperor of Karath and Lord of The Arid Lands
Faylen Haldör
An elf and late mentor to Reyna Sevari
Gal Tion
The first human king of Illian, a thousand years ago
Galandavax
A dragon bonded with Adriel
Galanör Reveeri
An elven warrior
Galkarus Vod
A human mage in the court of King Rengar
Gideon Thorn
A human mage and student at Korkanath
Gregorn Orvish
King of Grey Stone and Lord of The Ice Vales
Hadavad
A ranger and mage
Halion Al-Anan
Second in command of the Karathan army
Hyvark
High priest and advisor to The Goddess
Ilargo
Dragon - bonded with Gideon
Isabella Harg
Queen of Lirian and Lady of Felgarn
Jonus Glaide
A ranger
Kaleb Jordain
A ranger and previous Graycoat
Lord Marshal Horvarth
Head of the Graycoats
Malliath
Dragon
Merkaris Tion
King of Namdhor and Lord of Orith
Mörygan Mörgö
An elf and late advisor to Princess Reyna Sevari
Nakir Galvörd
The late General and member of the Hand of Valanis
Nasta Nal-Aket
The Father of Nightfall
Nathaniel Galfrey
A human knight and member of the Graycoats
Ned Fennick
A human knight and member of the Graycoats
Rainael the emerald star
Queen of the dragons
Rengar Marek
King of Velia and Lord of Alborn
Reyna Sevari
An elven princess
Ro Dosarn
The late human assassin and a member of Nightfall
Russell Maybury
Ranger and owner of the Pick-Axe
Salim Al-Anan
The late ranger and previous honour guard
Samandriel Zathya
A General and member of the Hand of Valanis
Tauren Son-of-None
The White Owl
Thallan Tassariön
A General and member of the Hand of Valanis
The Goddess
The queen of the Darkakin
Tobin Galfrey
Previous Graycoat and late father of Nathaniel Galfrey
Tyberius Gray
The ancient founder of the Graycoats
Valanis
The dark elf and self-proclaimed herald of the gods
The Echoes of Fate
The Prophecy
These Favoured elves fall and lose their way, as man’s anger devours all dragons fire. The immortal man is set to rise, bringing the dark one closer to his most dangerous desire.
Paldora’s celestial gem graces the daylight, and in its beauty ordains calamity. Only alliance and trust between two shores offers an imitation of hope and a glimpse of eternity.
Children of fire and flame offer great promise, but only one perceives the time we will fall. As the Gods recast their fortune and power, one will suffer the burden of destiny for all.
- NALANA SEVARI
Prologue
Thousands of years ago…
On the highest slopes of the Vengora Mountains, where the air was thin and the wind a bitter chill, the king of the first men and the one, true kingdom surveyed all of Verda. Atilan braced his hands against the icy, cold balcony of Kaliban’s state room and looked down on the world that was rightfully his. Illian was his by birthright and only he should rule over it for all time.
And yet…
Atilan looked high into the sky, as he had done his entire life, searching for dragons. The king knew he would fine none, for why else would he have built a fortress so high, where even dragons dare not fly? It was those dragons who had robbed him of his birthright, those beasts who served no purpose but to sustain mankind, as every other living creature did. Their rebellion and that of the Dragon Riders had cost him his armies, his home and the chance to live forever.
The wind and the snow beat against the invisible shield that surrounded him, generated by his staff, which stood by his side without aid. The shield flared with a fiery orange here and there, but still, the staff filled the sphere with enough heat to keep the cold out of his bones. The thought had Atilan inspecting the back of his hand, a hand that reflected his increasing age. Prominent veins, dark spots, and flesh more akin to a cracked desert floor reminded the king that he was growing closer to death with every second.
Both magic and science had failed him. Atilan’s first attempt at prolonging life had resulted in an entirely new species he had no desire to see again. The elf, as they were apparently calling themselves, were nothing but a reminder that immortality would forever be an unattainable gift that could only be given, never received. A spiteful part of him wanted to wipe the elves away, denying them the life that should have been his own, but war with the dragons had consumed him. Their fire and ice had chipped away at his one, true kingdom until there was almost nothing left… almost.
Atilan’s staff released a soft pitch that only the king could hear, alerting him to a presence on the balcony. It could not be Naius, for the wizard never left his crystal pools in days of late. The footsteps were light too, excluding Lord Krayt. It could only be one other.
“Paldora,” Atilan called softly, his voice just breaking the sound of the wind.
“Your Grace…” Paldora practically glided onto the balcony in her black dress, its magical silk glistening as if the stars were trapped inside.
Atilan commanded his sphere to expand and encompass his young wife, taking her into his globe of warmth. Inside his spell they were immune to nature’s harsh environment.
“You might be my ninth wife, but you’re certainly my favourite wife!” Atilan enjoyed the smile on his wife’s youthful face. How he envied her youth.
“You mean I am the youngest wife you have ever had,” Paldora replied with a soft kiss on his cheek.
I could still have younger, the king thought, though the mischievous idea was fleeting, his mind weighed down with visions of what was to come.
“I have failed us all, Paldora…” Atilan crossed his arms and cupped his white beard.
“There is still time, Your Grace.” Paldora clung to his arm, bringing her lips close to his ear. “Naius has almost completed his work.”
Paldora clung tighter still. “But it will be life.”
“What is life to be without a kingdom, without my kingdom? Illian is mine!” Atilan shrugged his wife off and shouted, “THOSE WICKED BEASTS HAVE TAKEN IT FROM ME!” Lightning sparked in the highest heavens and thunder clapped across the sky as the mage unleashed his wrath. “If it is the last thing I ever do, I will see every one of them stripped of their wings, I’ll have their scales peeled off and their hearts will feed my dogs for an eternity! I’ll breed them just to watch them suffer!”
Paldora’s expression should have been one of shock, but unlike his previous wives, Paldora could only smile at her king’s remarks, almost relishing in his descriptions.
“They had no right to deny you immortality, Your Grace,” Paldora purred into his ear. “They should have granted you the same as any Dragon Rider.”
“The Dragon Riders are not without blame!” Atilan spat. “They should have shared their secrets with their king!”
Paldora leaned on his shoulder and said, “And now they are all dead for their betrayal. There is only us...”
Atilan’s staff hummed again, alerting only the king to another arrival. The sound of his armour, crafted from the bones of dragons, could be heard over the chilling breeze.
“Lord Krayt.”
“Your Grace…” Krayt, Atilan’s minister of war, stepped onto the balcony. He was looking as ancient as Atilan these days, his body equally ravaged by time, leaving the minister with a pointed, crooked nose, liver-spotted hands, and a white beard that competed with the king’s for length.
“What news of my people?” the king asked, looking to the south, where The Wild Moores sat behind the mist of clouds.
“They have reached the Moores, but the dragons have hounded them every step of the way, Your Grace. Without any more Crissalith we have only our magic to keep them at bay. I advise staying in Kaliban.”
Krayt was not a large man, but his talents lay not in his muscles but in his brain. Atilan had always valued his opinion and took heed of his strategy in war, but they were not at war anymore, now they were fleeing, clawing to stay alive.
“I promised my people immortality, Lord Krayt.” Atilan faced his minister. “I am a man of my word.”
The three retreated into the depths of Kaliban, until its stone halls became the Vengoran rock of the cavern. The crystal pools illuminated the space in brilliant, white light as they churned within their pits. Naius had been cultivating the pools for decades, a fact that was evident by the cavern’s unique sense of up and down. Naius himself was standing over a pool, with his staff stirring the liquid-like crystals. To Atilan and the others, it appeared as if the wizard was standing upside down, between two stalactites.
Without hesitation, the three walked up the nearest wall and joined Naius by the pool. The wizard was only a few years younger than the king, but his long, dark hair had retained much of its natural colour. His normally clean-shaven face had grown wild with greying stubble and his pallor had taken a turn. His eyes were wide and never left the glowing pools to greet his king.
“Is it ready?” Atilan asked.
Naius tilted his head but remained fixed on the crystals. “It is.”
Atilan had never been a patient man, or even a merciful one, but reservations were required when dealing with genius. Naius was perhaps his greatest weapon, besides his own command of the magical arts, and he knew when to push him and when to simply leave him be.
The wizard tentatively reached into the pool, his hand gently displacing the ever-changing crystals. The Veil, as Naius had come to call it, was removed from the warm bath and presented to them as a trophy. Atilan had never seen it before, but his demands of the wizard had been quite specific. The golden sphere fit perfectly, cradled in his hand, no bigger than Naius' palm. Its gleaming surface was layered in beautiful glyphs, branded as it was with powerful magic. Naius flattened his hand and the sphere came to life, with a previously unseen ring of golden metal expanding out from the main body. The ring was tethered to the sphere, not by any mechanical piece but by magic. The hovering ring vibrated and another ring shot out and fell into a different orbit around the sphere.
“Magnificent…” Paldora whispered.
Atilan was transfixed by the device, which had now produced two more floating rings that continued to circle the sphere with various orbits. Sending Naius to Kaliban so long ago had been a hard decision for the king, but now it had born fruit. Their last ditch effort to find immortality was not as he had intended, but it would give them the time to plan.
“We will be gods!” Krayt reached out to touch The Veil, but hesitated seeing Naius' guarded expression.
“Will we be able to observe this world, from the other side?” Paldora asked.
“Our influence is yet to be determined,” Naius replied. “We will see things… hear things… but not everything.”
“Our time on the other side is temporary,” Atilan announced in his commanding tone. “We will use that time to learn more about the dragons and how we can defeat them, nothing more.” A thought occurred to the king. “The Veil will accompany us to the other side, yes?” His question was more of a statement, since this particular detail had been outlined years ago, during The Veil’s inception.
“Of course,” Naius was quick to respond, “the portal will close and The Veil will follow us through. We can return whenever we so choose, Your Grace.”
Atilan smiled wickedly at his own brilliance. Outside of time, neither death nor dragon could harm him. When he finally had the perfect plan, he would return to Illian and exact a bloody vengeance upon their kind and rule over all of Verda as a true immortal.
The king removed a small crystal from his belt and casually threw into the cavern, where it exploded into a dark portal, as quiet as the night. The four companions stepped through the abyss and left the caverns of Kaliban far behind, travelling hundreds of miles to the south in a single step. The breeze whipping around the great Wild Moores was far more pleasant than the arctic winds that blasted the tips of the Vengora Mountains.
Atilan looked up into a sky blanketed with thick, grey clouds. He had come to hate the clouds as the war dragged on; the dragons could move unseen. Krayt wasted no time in summoning the refugees of the one, true kingdom. With a slender wand, drawn from the base of his back, the minister of war whistled into the dense forest, his pitch exaggerated by holding the wand under his lips. Paldora and Naius joined Atilan in watching the sky, the queen with her wand and the wizard with his staff.
“There…” Naius lifted his chin at a cloud to their right, where the faintest shadow glided through the mist.
“And there…” Paldora was looking to their left.
Atilan braced his staff, tipped with a spear on one end and a globe of amber on the other. The Crissalith gems that laced the shaft would be his greatest weapon if one of the dragons touched down. The snapping of twigs and rustling of branches had the king turning to the Moores, from which his people were slowly emerging. A quick count had Atilan concerned, for only sixteen people walked out onto the plains to greet them.
“Where are the others?” he asked immediately.
Ymir, his minister of the harvest, replied, “The dragons were relentless, Your Grace. Many have fled deeper into The Wild Moores…”
Atilan was quick to anger. “My instructions were clear! Is my word not my bond? I promised immortality and I have delivered!” The king gestured to Naius, who was holding The Veil. “We must cross over now, as one people! It may be years before we return!” Atilan fought the urge to kill someone.
“It was The Echoes, Your Grace.” Ymir’s voice trembled. “They have foreseen calamity.”
Atilan rolled his eyes. The Echoes was a religion he should have seen to years ago, but as with everything else, the war had consumed his e
fforts.
“Those crippled old men think they can see the future!” the king spat. “I have seen the future! The one, true king! Their prophecies come from a god that does not exist. I am their god! How dare they poison my own people against me!” Atilan was pacing now, his staff stabbing the soft ground. “Fine! Let them rot in the forest with their precious god, all of them! We will live forever and return to rule without them.” The king gave Naius the order to proceed with a simple nod.
The wizard threw The Veil away from them all, but the sphere of gold never reached the grass before the magic inside came to life. The orb floated in the air and its rings expanded from nowhere and spun around the ball at incredible speeds. The glyphs that lined the metal began to glow, until the details of The Veil couldn’t be seen at all; there was only light.