by J. T. Wright
A
Bond
Broken
J.T. Wright
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Prologue
There was no God of Truth. Whether there had ever been a God or Gods of Truth, was a hotly debated topic amongst theologians. They debated the existence of a God of Truth, and, if he had existed, where would he fall in the hierarchy of the various pantheon? The only thing all sides could agree on was that there was no God of Truth living today.
Before the fall of the Al’rashian Kingdom, the Al’rashia people could have settled this argument. There had never been an acknowledged God of Truth, unless you counted the Creator, the Keeper, as such. This statement wouldn’t be given any credence whatsoever even if theologians heard it. The argument that a Keeper stood at the top of the divine hierarchy was widely discredited. You might as well tell them that the Infinite World herself was the Supreme Goddess, and the Keeper was her husband and partner. No one worshiped the World; how could it be divine?
But this was the truth. The World and the Keeper were the only true gods, the only beings of absolute power. They didn’t depend on worship to give them authority or power. They were authority and power. Any Al’rashian child could have told you that. It was common knowledge before the fall of their kingdom.
There were two amongst the lesser gods, the servant gods, that held positions related to the truth. The God of History and the Goddess of Knowledge. They were considered dead gods as well, amongst those who knew of such things. Darak Faidor, once king of the Al’rashian people, could tell them otherwise. Like the Supreme ones, Imrihil, the God of History, and Althea, Goddess of Knowledge, didn’t require worshipers; they were sustained by the essence of what they represented.
Darak Fairdor could say this confidently because, at one time, his people had built temples to these gods and received the benefit of their guidance. It wasn’t out of reverence. Imrihil and Althea didn’t need that from their followers. All those two needed to be was for others to listen and accept, with minds uncolored by ambition or vanity.
The Al’rashia had managed to do this and gained greatly from it. They had also suffered for it. When the Elves had claimed to be the eldest race, the Al’rashia had refuted them. It was humans who were the first to walk the face of the Infinite World. Elves had been a poor second, a place they shared with Dwarves, Al’rashians and Goblins.
The Elves had immediately declared war because of this insult. To suggest that they were second to the short-lived and weak humans was bad enough, but to be placed on the same level as Goblins, that was a fact the Elves could never accept. Their armies had marched as soon as they could be gathered.
That war had not gone well for Darak's ancestors. At that time, Al’rashia was at peace. They had had warriors and military forces; the Infinite World was not kind to pacifists. However, this war was the first they had participated in since the Awakening. The Al’rashia defenders were used to challenging the Trials and fighting Beasts and monsters. They were unprepared to meet a unified and disciplined military force.
The Al’rashian Kingdom might have fallen in that first war, but the Elves made one colossal mistake. A brigade of Elven Rangers burned to the ground a small city near the western border of the kingdom without sparing a single occupant. Unfortunately, that day, the occupants of that city were all women and children.
The men of that nameless place, all from one clan, a clan of hunters (a clan whose name has also been lost to time) made a decision, one that would change lives forever. The clan’s name was given up in memory of their loved ones who died. From that point forward, they became known by many names, the Violet-Eyed Destroyers, the Avenging Ghosts, and eventually the Dusk Wraiths.
They were the counter to the Elven Rangers that the Al’rashian Kingdom needed, the first Survivalists, and a nightmare for the Elven forces. The Elves and their elite Rangers excelled in forest environments; their stealth and speed were unmatched in the woodlands. That is, they were until the appearance of the Survivalists.
The Violet-Eyed Clan had been hunters. They knew the forests as well as any Elf, but with the advent of the Survivalist Class, they became the masters of any terrain. It was only natural, in a way. The hunters knew how to use bows much like their Elven counterparts did, but they weren’t particularly skilled with this weapon. Those bows were laid aside when they faced the Elven Rangers. The Survivalists’ need to feel and to taste the blood of their enemies led to them abandoning ranged attacks in favor of close ambushes, with knives in the dark, and spears, and swords in the sunlight. The abilities of the Survivalists, which allowed them to approach and confront their foes, became legendary.
That was only the beginning. They found other survivors of slaughter and trained them. While traditional Al’rashian warriors suffered under siege, this new force roamed freely. New Classes and Specializations were discovered; Survivalist was only the beginning. Soon the war gave birth to Avengers and Slayers and other equally impressive Classes. The Elves’ defeat had only been a matter of time.
After the war, the Dusk Wraiths became the backbone of the Al’rashian people. The elite amongst the elite, they met every threat and won. Until the Horde arrived and the nation fell. Yet even at the end, the Dusk Wraiths, led by their king, Darak Fairdor, were the last to fall, never retreating. They fell so that a small number of Al’rashians could flee never regretting their deaths.
On that day, the last day of a brutal war, Darak Fairdor’s sacrifice received the attention of the Supreme Goddess, the Infinite World herself. It was not something he sought. He had merely wished to buy some time for his people. He had only wanted to drag the Dread Knight, the commander of the besieging army, down with him. The Knight was only one commander among many, but for Darak, he had become a personal nemesis, the face of the Horde.
Dusk Wraiths had opened the way for their king. Men he had known, fought beside, and admired all his life threw themselves at the enemy to give their liege his chance. They had died, one and all, even as they slaughtered the Undead and Infernal forces. They each succeeded in taking at least ten foes into the dark with them. It would have been a glorious day, if not for the fact that this was only one army out of ten that the Al’rashian faced, and only five thousand Dusk Wraiths were left in a kingdom whose population had numbered in the millions.
The Dusk Wraiths died, cursing and furious. In a few hundred years, they would be mostly forgotten, but that day they achieved their goal. Their king reached the Dread Knight, and he did not let them down. Even as a sword pierced his body, Darak took the head of his enemy. He had screamed then, but not in pain. He never felt the pain, not that first sword thrust or any that followed. The king screamed so his men would know he had done it.
They were defeated. Their kingdom was now only dust, but their last task was complete. It was enough, some of their people would survive, and perhaps one day…
The World witnessed the last act of the king and his elite guard. Before his soul could fade, before he could discover the ultimate mysteries of life, Darak Fairdor was offered two choices, fade and experience whatever came next or become a Keeper and maintain a Trial in the name of the god and goddess.
It was an honor but no reward. Keepers had no true life or freedom. Much like the lesser gods, Keepers were simply caretakers, bound by rules and restrictions. They had great power, but that power could only be used within the constraints set by the Infinite World.
Darak would have chosen death if not for the World’s whispering. The goddess did not wish to see the end of Al’rashia, but that was what would happen if Darak did not take her offer. The Al’rashians had lost their heritage, their home, their purpose. They could not rise again unless Darak bled once more.
The King felt the anguish in the goddess’s voice. The Al’rashians and their elders, the humans, were the true chosen of the god and goddess. Those two races were how the supreme ones balanced all else. They were not perfect, any more than any race created or inspired by lesser gods was perfect, but they were necessary. Darak made his choice.
He became a Keeper, responsible for the Land of the Undying Lord. He was the Undying Lord, though only one challenger in a thousand years ever discovered that. At first, he had sent his roaming Trial, his Instant Trial, to challenge and strengthen his people. Only Al’rashians were drawn to this place that was fashioned after their lost homeland.
For a hundred years, only Al’rashian warriors challenged the Lands. Every one of them died there without ever meeting the Dread Knight that Darak had cursed into becoming his Guardian. His people were deeply scarred by the loss of the kingdom and could not stand against the Orc horde and their Undead allies. For one hundred years, the strongest Al’rashian warriors were sacrificed to the Trial of their king, and at last, Darak could no longer stand to watch his people, his children, die.
He sent the Trial wandering randomly, far from any clan or colony of Al’rashia. The Trial, meant to guide them home, was too much for any of them. It wasn’t until nine centuries later when an exile roaming far from his clan was pulled in by accident.
As soon as he realized what had happened, Darak did what a Keeper must never do. He broke the rules. The Trial was a survival type. Anyone who could survive for two months or defeat the Guardian would clear it. Darak knew that it was impossible for a lone Al’rashian to survive in his Trial for two months, so he tossed the man into a prison where he would be safe.
Darak knew this was a violation of the rules. Trials are not meant to be safe, but the sight of Orion Embra had panicked the former king. Orion was thirty-two years old, but without bond or family and with such a low Level, Darak could only see him as a child. A child had no chance in the Land of the Undying Lord.
He had tossed Orion in prison, and it was an act he instantly regretted. Darak balanced the Trial, but he was also balanced by the Trial. Orion was trapped by Darak's decision. He would remain in his prison, alone in the dark, until he was rescued. Darak could not see where that rescue would come from.
And then it came! When Darak was on the verge of risking his very existence to set the young warrior free, another group of children was drawn into his Trial. Darak was shocked to see them. A group of adventurers and soldiers, humans all, and hopelessly unprepared. The Undying Lord felt they would last no more than a day.
This group was also oddly undeveloped. There was only one true Class holder among them. The rest were all under Level 50, with no Advanced Classes to be seen. At first, Darak thought the human race had regressed, much like his own people. Out of curiosity, he examined the land they had come from looking for clues.
What he had found baffled him, a whole kingdom held back by its leaders. The people of this kingdom believed that reaching Level 50 was a nearly unobtainable feat. They thought Advanced Classes were the limit to growth, and their nobles encouraged this belief even among their own children. It was a kingdom spiraling towards a Tribulation. The god and goddess did not allow any part of their creation to become stagnant.
Only one small part of this kingdom reached for better. An isolated pocket within the chaos, only this territory looked to be able to survive the coming test, the Tribulation. Darak examined this territory, the Al’drossford territory, and he liked what he found.
Its rulers shared a bloodline with his own people, much like the kingdom’s higher nobility, but this Duke Al'dross actively sought to provide for those under his protection. He built for and with them, and attempted to strengthen them. He created order and stability and urged his people to develop as if he knew what was coming.
He was held back, both by those in power over him and the limitations of his territory, but still, he tried. It helped that he had impressive people working for him. The Duke, his wife, a man pretending to be a Tailor, and several others showed the signs of true adventure. They had ventured beyond the borders of this small kingdom and recognized that there was a problem.
Darak doubted that a small group would be enough to stand against what was coming. At least he did until he saw Sergeant Cullen in action. Now that was an impressive warrior. The greatest challenges of the Trial were scaled to his strength, and the Sergeant met them and conquered them with ease. If Cullen had been born a few centuries earlier, Darak would have done everything in his power to draw the Guardsman to his side. With a hundred men like Cullen, properly leveled, and standing with the Dusk Wraiths, Al’rashia might not have fallen.
Darak watched the Sergeant eagerly, anxious to see his Trial finally challenged successfully. He cheered raggedly at the Sergeant’s every triumph and marveled at the ease with which the man held himself. The Undying Lord also admired the way the Sergeant subtlety guided his companion. Cullen’s actions seemed crude, but every word and gesture pushed the younger man towards a more suitable Class. Darak would call it brilliant, but he suspected the Sergeant did it all instinctively; there was no thought or planning to the man’s encouragement.
Darak was engrossed in the progress of the Dread Naught and Forward Scout until a tugging at the back of his mind drew his attention to the prison in which Orion was the only prisoner. Someone had made his way in! It was practically a miracle, and Darak thought the Trial Spirit was doing its Keeper a favor, at first.
And then Darak examined the two children, and these two were children by anyone’s standards, more closely. His hope fled. This was no favor; the Trial was probably punishing him for breaking the rules. A fourteen-year-old female warrior with a Level of 7 was hardly going to conquer the Tainted Terror Darak had set as Guardian of the prison. The other challenger was worse. And odd…
A Bond! A human Bond, a thing Darak had never seen before. Initially excited, Darak’s hope waned again upon closer examination of the boy. His age could be discounted; with a Bonded companion, that was just a placeholder assigned by the goddess. It did not represent a Summons’ power or ability.
However, this Bond, this boy, was Level 1, and that could represent the boy’s abilities. He had none. A Level 1 Survivalist was… Darak thought he’d gone mad after he realized the boy’s Class. Survivalist was a lost Class, it couldn’t show up here, not now. And based on his Attributes, it was his first Class, another impossible thing.
Darak watched in amazement as the boy, Trent, rescued Orion Embra. He stood in shock when the two, three, if you counted the bumbling female, found a Spirit Orb. His hands trembled when Orion dubbed the boy his brother, and the Survivalist’s eyes turned violet, while his race became Al’rashian. All of this was more unbelievable than the human Scout becoming an Unyielding Slayer, which was also a lost Class of Al’rashia.
A Spirt Orb in the hands of a Spirit Summoner, whose adopted brother held the Class, violet-eyes, and legacy of the Dusk Wraiths. This could be a new beginning for Darak’s people. He had left a note in Orion’s reward chest, commanding the man, begging him really, to bring the Clan Embra to Al’drossford where he
would reunite with his new brother. He had also left a letter for Orion to deliver to the Clan Elders. Orion would obey, Darak was certain. Whether the Elders would allow the Clan to follow the former exile to Al’drossford, that remained to be seen.
Even if they didn’t, Darak was sure the Al’rashia would have a new future in that isolated territory with Orion and Trent to lead them. No, that was wrong. The Duke Al’dross was a good leader, he was not to be replaced. The Al added to his name was worrying, but it said he shared the bloodlines of the king’s people and honored that blood.
A good leader, a Spirit Summoner with an Orb, a potential Dusk Wraith waiting for training, these were the cornerstones upon which a nation might be rebuilt. It lacked but a fourth piece to pull it all together. That fourth piece was something Darak might be able to provide.
The Instant Trials of the Infinite World existed apart while waiting for challengers. Everywhere and nowhere, anywhere, they could appear in an Instant. This meant, in a way, that Darak was always near the person he needed to contact.
It was a simple thought, asking the man to appear before him, but Darak was overwhelmed with gratitude when the man did so. A king was only king if acknowledged. For this man, for the true pillar of Al’rashia to come when called, meant the man still viewed Darak Fairdor as king despite his failure to hold the kingdom together.
Ranar Wygon's silver eyes blinked slowly as he took in his surroundings. His were the solid orbs of an adult Al’rashian, though if one looked closely, they would see a small band of gold circling the outer edge. This was a sign that he was a true elder among his people, he held a bond and a familiar, and all the power that went along with them.
Ranar had been in the Tower of Dusk moments ago. It was a place he had not left in four hundred and fifty years. The tower was the last part of true Al’rashia that still stood. It stood because it was maintained by Ranar Wygon, and Ranar was undefeated.
His Level was beyond what most could comprehend. He had reached a stage of immortality, or at least as close to immortality as any Awakened could get. Only the god and goddess were truly immortal; even the lesser gods and Guardian Spirits knew death.
