Shadow of the Arisen: An Epic Dark Fantasy Novel (Lands of Wanderlust Book 1)

by Paul Yoder

  “Sun is setting. Dolingers are fast, but their stamina isn’t quite what a horse’s is. We should set up camp here for the night to give them rest before tomorrow’s long run,” Arie said to Reza, who readily agreed, trusting Arie completely with the strange mounts that had borne them so quickly across the Plainstate wilderness that day.

  Both women turned to look to Cavok as he spoke his first words that day on the trail.

  “There’s a smell on the air. I smelled it in the canyon too, but it was old. This is fresh. Some kind of large beast. It’s musk is strong.”

  Fin and Nomad now also turned to Cavok, both very well aware of how accurate Cavok’s ability to sense danger on the air was.

  “You have a good nose,” Arie said, giving the large man a look of praise, adding, “You smell the scent of a quadspire boar, probably more than one. They tend to wander in a drift. Not a large one by most species of pig, usually ten or so, but quadspires grow to the height of a dolinger.”

  Pausing, Arie waited for a response from Cavok, curious to see what the man’s reaction would be from the announcement.

  Cavok nodded his head, saying in a low, reverent voice, “Honorable beasts. I’ve heard tale of quadspires. Ferocious and magnificent to hunt. There is a people I have visited that require their youth to hunt quadspires alone. If they live through the hunt, they become an adult. If not, they’re considered dead or banished from the tribe. That is the only time they are allowed to kill a quadspire in their life. The beasts are said to be a challenge to take down, even for fully matured adults, and in that tribe, I just qualify physically for a matured adult.”

  The quiet talk of the beast that was more than likely in the area caused Fin, Reza, and Nomad to shift uneasily in their saddle, not realizing what dangerous territory they had previously unknowingly wandered through.

  Arie was impressed with the strapping man’s knowledge and appreciation of the boar that had been the end of more than a few caravans and nomads in their lands. Outsiders rarely respected how harsh the wild in the region could be, and they often paid with their lives.

  “Good. You know a thing or two of the wild. Rarely do I guide those who appreciate the danger I risk my life to keep them from,” Arie said, giving Cavok the slightest smirk before Reza asked a question that the others wondered about as well.

  “Will we be safe tonight then? Perhaps we should continue on.”

  Looking back to Reza, Arie said confidently, “No, we will be safe tonight. Quadspires hate the scent of dolingers. Their meat spoils horribly quickly after they die, and even a boar’s gut isn’t strong enough to stomach the various diseases inflicted upon those who attempt to eat dolinger flesh. Since they’re not good for eating, and dangerous to confront, quadspires don’t snoop where dolingers wander.”

  “Right,” Reza said, and then called back to the rest of the group, “Let’s pitch camp here.”

  While Arie took care of the dolingers, the rest of the group laid out bedrolls and made a small fire, just enough to cook dinner on, which Nomad did.

  Jadu served everyone a full portion, the group chatting a little with each other till the sun was completely down over the horizon and the sky turned from deep red to a dark blue, the stars casting a faint light across the ground which still radiated heat from the baking it had taken all day.

  Most headed to their spots in the campgrounds, bedding down for the night, but Arie stayed up, letting the group know that she’d keep watch that night so that all could get a good night’s rest.

  Busying herself with tending the fire and the dolingers from time to time, after coming back in the camp from checking on their mounts the second time, she noticed everyone, but Nomad, was fast asleep.

  She had heard that the group had come in after doggedly working their way across untamed country with little rest or supplies. She figured that the lack of any polite objections to her staying up alone on watch, and them falling asleep so easily, was probably due to the exhaustion each of them carried from pushing their bodies so hard the last however many days they had been on the trail.

  But this Nomad, the one who had coyishly gazed upon her at their first meeting, refused sleep, and using the talent so naturally gifted to her by her heritage, she stalked quietly into the camp, watching the man, curious as to what was so important as to resist precious sleep.

  His armor and upper garments were neatly placed on a cloth by his bedroll, exposing the man’s lightly scarred, olive skin.

  He was a specimen of a healthy, male figure, she would admit to that, and as he seemed to appreciate her earlier that day in the stables, she, under the secrecy of the night, did the same to him now.

  Seeing the glint of steel, Arie paused, seeing that the foreign man held his sword out in front of him, either meditating, training, or perhaps up to something more sinister in nature.

  Holding back, she decided to continue her surveillance, slipping a hand to her dagger’s hilt at her side.

  Nomad’s forearms and bare chest heaved as he seemed to struggle with the blade, trembling slightly as the sword began to glow a faint, pearly white, striking a brilliant contrast to the dark blue of the night.

  The white glow didn’t hold long, and the blade’s luminosity quickly faded back to its standard sheen, leaving Nomad heaving as quietly as he could, obviously exerted over the display.

  “I wonder,” Arie softly said, as not to wake the others, Nomad looking up slightly startled, realizing he was not alone.

  “Did that glow come from the weapon, the wielder—or perhaps a little of both?”

  Meeting eyes with her, Nomad retrieved his scabbard, nocked the tip of his sword along the lip, and crisply slid the blade in, setting the weapon gently down atop his clothes beside his bedroll.

  “If I am to be honest, I could not say for certain myself,” Nomad replied, going from a kneeling position to sitting crosslegged, looking up to Arie.

  “You—” Arie started, lingering on the word, considering her next, “are a stranger to this land, but I can’t place from where.”

  As she hovered by his bedroll, Nomad could see that her intention was to idly converse, and he offered her a seat at the end of his bedroll.

  Arie gratefully accepted his offer, sitting directly across from Nomad, leaning in slightly.

  “Far to the east is my home. Years has it been since I have seen the face of my people. It is rare that those I meet now have even heard of the land I hail from.”

  Arie knew of civilizations and cultures to the east of the Plainstate, but none that fit Nomad’s appearance. He was surely human, but his olive-toned, tanned skin seemed a shade more light and yellow than the Tarigannie or Plainstate people, and his jet black hair, wispy facial hair, and narrow, slanted eyes spoke of distant origins, ones that she had never come across.

  “Though,” Nomad began to say, still thinking on her question, or his response to her question, “there are two faces from my kind I have been cursed to confront, time and time again. Lingering shadows from my past, determined to haunt me, across the lands, endlessly.”

  Looking up, noticing that he had perhaps delved too deep into allusions of his past to a complete stranger, Nomad looked to Arie and asked, “What about your heritage? You seem different than most haltia I have met.”

  “That is because I am not only haltia,” Arie stated, causing Nomad to look a bit abashed for intentionally bringing into question her mixed heritage, a subject that he realized easily could be sensitive.

  Holding a hand up to reassure him she had no issue openly discussing the matter, she offered, “I do not hold any ill will to either of the races I was born of. It makes no difference to me if I were born full haltia, or full human. What matters is that I was born at all and that I am still alive to enjoy that life.”

  Nomad smiled at her reply, agreeing, “There is much wisdom in that. There is a word in my language, naruofuro. It means to become one with the flow of all things living.
It is a cherished trait that my people generally seek after. You seem to possess it.”

  Now Arie returned Nomad’s smile. She was fascinated by his unique, humble point of view. Though they had barely met, she seemed to get the feeling, and she was not often wrong about her discernment of others, that he was a good man, one that she could trust. There were very few of those kinds of men in the city.

  “Thank you. I’ve had to have this naruofuro you call it. It’s almost a necessity to my survival, I feel. From a very young age, I learned that life will have its way with you, regardless of whether you choose to curse fate and do nothing, or move with it and coax it in your favor as best you can. The fates were not kind to either Leith or I, and we had to make do with what lot we were given in life.

  “Our father cared little for us, and when his attention did turn to either Leith or myself, it was in anger and frustration. We had only each other growing up, and we left home as soon as we were able. We’ve been together ever since. We’re quite close, though being the sultan’s steward has made our relationship more formal of late.”

  Nomad grunted his understanding, looking up to the star-filled night sky as he reflected on Arie’s story, adding, “I have known friends that grew up in similar circumstances, and it was a very difficult thing for them to detach themselves from those abusers who were supposed to be close. However, each has mentioned to me in the end, that single decision to leave those hurtful relationships was later considered to be one of the best decisions they ever made.

  “It hurts to give up on a relationship that should be one of our most cherished connections—that of a parent, sibling, spouse—but it takes those with special courage, and often wisdom, to leave those who do not return our love—in times past or in the foreseeable future.”

  Following his gaze up into the eternal expanse, taking in all the familiar constellations she knew and depended on nightly for guidance along her trail, she sat back at the end of Nomad’s bed mat, not having a pleasant conversation like the one she was having with one as interesting as he for a long time. Rarely did she share her past so willingly with a stranger.

  This one was different, though. She had felt a connection and a trust the moment their eyes first met. She was not one to generally be impressed by others, spending most of her time in the wild because she preferred the company of nature over that of people, but with Nomad, she preferred his company over seclusion—and other than her sister, she held none other over the comfort of her privacy. She was considering making an exception for this one.

  At the very least, she’d make an exception, if just for this one night.

  39

  At the Gates

  “Reza,” a weak voice whispered urgently, prompting Reza to lazily flutter her eyes open to see the dawn sunlight warming up the horizon, confirming her suspicions that she was waking up slightly prematurely.

  “Reza,” the voice persisted, calling louder now.

  Opening her eyes all the way this time, she became aware of a wispy luminescence spreading around her, a ghostly familiar face appearing in front of her, seeming to threaten to disperse at the slightest of winds due to how faint the form was.

  “Isis!” Reza hoarsely whispered, surprised at seeing the almost forgotten companion she had kept with her for what seemed like so long now.

  “Good, I can still get through to you,” Isis said, her voice waning, Reza straining to make out her words.

  “I expended a great deal of energy toward you from the arisen’s attacks. This enchantment that keeps my soul bound to this ring was at dire risk of breaking, but I saw your need and—”

  Isis’ voice cut out, her image fading, Reza watching the mist that usually stretched out for yards, now ebbed and flowed within inches of the ring she wore that held the enchantment.

  Seeming to force her way back to audible clarity, Isis continued in a determined voice.

  “The effort I made to protect you the other day may have had a permanent effect on the strength of the ring’s enchantment.”

  Her words starting to break up once more, Isis desperately jumped subjects.

  “I don’t have much time, but I wanted to let you know, I will do my best to aid you again if you face Lashik. Do not fear him. I will give everything to help you defeat him.”

  With that, Isis’ image broke completely, fading into the mist that seeped back into the diamond ring, the dawn sunlight becoming brighter, and she slowly became aware of a shadow that was cast upon her in the form of a woman who now stood near her.

  Looking up, she could see Arie looking down suspiciously at her, asking, “Is everything alright?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Reza answered, getting up, looking around the camp, finding everyone else to still be sleeping. Arie’s voice turned her back around.

  “Day will be upon us soon. It’ll be best if we push the trail hard before the day grows too hot. The earlier the start, the better.”

  She figured Arie’s suggestion probably wise, knowing how hot the Plainstate sun could get at noonday and after.

  “I’ll wake the others. We’ll eat and be on our way,” Reza said, Arie nodding, heading to the dolingers to prep them for the day.

  Fin woke the easiest, and after a quick command from Reza, he was up getting to work on gathering breakfast. The rest, Reza had to jab sharply before they realized she was being serious about getting up, Nomad included—which surprised her considering his general tendency to sleep light and rise early.

  Arie, having saddled all the dolingers, came back to join the group, snatching a handful of assorted indigenous nuts and a small bread loaf out of the ration pouch to join the group for breakfast.

  “Eat your fill. We’ll probably not stop for lunch, we’ll slow to a gait for a bite on the go instead. We have a lot of distance to cover today to get you to Brigganden by nightfall.”

  Both Jadu and Zaren at the news let out a long sigh, Cavok handing Jadu an apple and cheese, patting the little praven on the back in an attempt to cheer him up, knowing that to the infrequent traveler, long stretches on the trail could be very tough.

  Reza, at the news of travel the whole day through, asked, “Will the dolingers be able to handle an all-day run?”

  “Oh yes,” Arie answered, looking up from peeling an orange, “They do it quite often. That’s why we use them in times of urgency. They’re fast in quick bursts, maybe a few hours at most, then you trot them for an hour or so. They can go like that all day as long as you allow them to rest between runs. They don’t have as much endurance as horses, but if you run them right, they can add ten or twenty extra miles a day onto the distance horses could get you.”

  The group now were all looking over to the pack of dolingers, quietly observing them as Arie talked.

  “Terribly unapproachable things, though. Mostly reserved for high-ranking military, at least locally—and military animals generally are trained for one purpose,” Fin added in after Arie was done addressing the group.

  Fin’s ominous assessment of the hairless wolf-like mount hung in the air momentarily before Arie admitted, “True. They don’t look friendly, smell pleasant, and they often are used not just for their ability to outdistance horses, but because of their aggressive traits. Their claws and maw can make short work of, say, an unarmored attacker. But considering that they used to harass these lands, driving away early settlers of many of the more recent towns and cities when the Plainstate was still somewhat of a frontier, they’re a much gentler, useful beast than they were back then.

  “Centuries ago, they were known as Daruks—still are I’ve heard elsewhere. It’s an old name, and an old species. Primal and relatively unchanged by time. Somewhat of a miracle that they heel before us today after only a few short centuries of domestication.”

  “Comforting, to know that they are so freshly trained,” Fin mumbled sarcastically, the whole group now staring at the pack of dolingers that stood gazing back hungrily at them.
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br />   “Fascinating specimens,” Jadu said, oblivious to the fact that he could fit in one of the larger dolinger’s mouth easily. Skipping up to the pack to get a better look at them, Jadu eyed the large beasts with a newfound appreciation.

  “Did you, uhh…” Fin started, nervously giggling as Jadu approached the hungry-looking pack who all sat staring at the little approaching praven, Reza finishing Fin’s sentence for him.

  “Feed them yet?”

  Arie, not so reassuringly answered, eyeing Jadu, “Yes, a little bit before you all woke up—but it’s almost impossible to keep those things completely satisfied.”

  Everyone watched a very pleased Jadu pointing to prominent unique features on the beasts, presumably making notes to himself of the strange anatomy of the creatures for possible future reference.

  Reza got up, absently calling for everyone to finish their meal and get ready to head out, everyone mumbling their agreeance, all heading over to snag Jadu just before his little hand reached up to stroke the leg of one of the dolingers that eyed him intensely.

  Everyone packed their things, and Zaren, making doubly sure to watch his investment pupil, Jadu, carefully loaded him onto the back of their shared mount. The dolinger’s head arched back around to eye the little bitesize rider on his back through the whole mounting process, causing Zaren to tentatively swat away the creature’s gaze.

  The group headed off fast towards Desolate Peak across the plains just as the sun began to crest the horizon.

  Just as the day before, the dolingers made good on any boasting the group had heard of in regards to their speed. Within a few hours, they had passed by Desolate Peak, and within two hours after that, they were leaving the high plains, descending down plateau after plateau into the scrub brush wilderness northeast of Brigganden.

  Taking a two hour trot to cool the dolingers off, the blazing sun rising higher and higher in the sky as the day wore on, Fin handed out their lunch sacks, filled with oat cakes and a local fruit, each generously accepting the reprieve from the full-on gallop they had been sustaining all day.