Death Touch Chapter 20

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Sara

To simply say that the Restan capitol was a city of splendor did neither the city nor the concept of splendor justice. Positioned over a bounty of natural gold, the precious metal lined all of the city’s most important buildings; the four temples that stood at the center of each wall, and the walls themselves to name a few. It wasn’t hard to see why so many chose to live there, but figured that it must be uncomfortable to look at during the day. She had come prepared with sunglasses, as seasoned visitors and residents must do, but still found herself disoriented by the radiance of the city’s golden fixtures.

“Come for the sights, stay for the optometrists.” Truer words were never said about this place. 

Finding her way through the crowds in the big city had been a particular challenge for Sara. She had entered the city through the west gate, which was nearest to the Serene temple. After a few hours, however, she found herself wandering around the south wall’s temple of Crane. 

Backtracking only seemed to lead her to the castle in the center of town. She had been about to ask for directions when she spotted a dozen men who were attempting to raise a massive red canvas. Knowing of the coming Summer Festival, she had nearly broke her gaze with the workers when an agitated man in a golden trenchcoat past them. 

“Out of the way, you bloody morons!” The man shouted. “There’s an inquisition in progress!”

The workers stepped aside as he passed, nearly knocking over a stake meant to support their tent. One of them hissed with frustration as he rushed to steady it. The man in gold simply ignored them and continued to charge down the cobblestone road toward her. As he approached, she quickly stepped aside and turned to follow him.”

“What’s going on?” Sara demanded urgently.

“Mind your own business!” the man snapped back. “Royal business!”

“Are you the Royal Inquisitor?”

“Yes, now please! I really must go!”

“Whatever it is, let me help! I’m clergy!”

“Salican clergy?”

Sara’s blood turned to ice. Seized with the instinct that this could be related to the Champion she sought, she jogged to catch up with him.

“No, but I can still help! Please!”

The Inquisitor stopped for a moment and turned around. He looked sharply into her eyes and barked, “What am I to make of your interest in my case?”

Sara stood her ground and replied. “If you’ll even believe the truth, I may need your help later on, so I am offering my assistance now. But now that I hear you’re headed to Salica’s temple, I am convinced that your case is related to my own business here.”

The Inquisitor’s eyes narrowed as he regarded her for a moment. “Well, this is one case where I can’t turn down any leads. You can come with me only if you agree to stay where I can see you. After I look at the crime scene, I shall be glad to find out what any of this has to do with you.”

Sara nodded her assent. “My lord, if I am right, then this may very well involve everyone.”

Curiosity failed to compel the Inquisitor to waste any more time. So, they traveled to the Eastern wall in earnest, stopping short of the temple as they came into an inexplicably dense fog. The Inquisitor frowned as he flagged down a royal guard who stood vigil over the fog’s precipice. 

“What the hell is this?”

The guard saluted before replying. “No idea, sir. This fog showed up an hour ago. It’s so thick we can’t see more than an inch past our own noses. We’ve got men in there, but nobody can figure out where the hell they are.”

“What of the Queen? Do we know if anyone has located her?”

Sara gasped at the question, but felt it best to keep her mouth shut. The Inquisitor took note of her reaction as the guard replied. “Negative. This fog is screwing with our airwave comms. The only people who could possibly know the queen’s whereabouts are lost in this unnatural fog.”

The Inquisitor turned to Sara. “Something to add?”

Sara’s reaction was caught between a nod and a shake of her head. “I don’t know anything, to be honest. I’ve read about the royal family’s tragedies just as everyone else has, but I never dreamed my own journey would lead to this!”

The Inquisitor began to glare at the girl. “Well, if you’re looking to make a pilgrimage to Salica’s temple, I’m afraid I can’t let you under the circumstances. I hope you know something useful enough to justify my bringing you here!”

Sara winced at the man’s biting tone. “I’m looking for someone who may very well have created this fog. Would you consider that useful?”

“Talk.”

“This fog is created by storm magic,” Sara explained. “It’s a discipline of the Salican order that alters the weather based on emotion. This spell is a defense mechanism. You could say that it is literally fed by confusion.”

“That sounds powerful. How come I’ve never heard of it?”

“It’s a fringe discipline. I’m not a Salican, but I believe that storm magic is considered heretical by the majority of their clergy. It’s very rare.”

“So… you think that this person you’re looking for cast this spell?”

“I can’t be sure,” Sara replied truthfully. “I don’t know many details of my quarry. I admit that I am acting on very abstract clues, but in light of your own concerns I’ll spare you the details. All I can say that is pertinent to your case is that this fog is a result of Salican magic. Find any practitioner, scholarly or priestly, and they can clear this up.”

The Inquisitor nodded gruffly. “Yeah, thanks for the help and go in peace. If you find who you’re looking for, make sure you send them my way. Worse case scenario, you might just be tracking a suspect in the murder of our queen.

“It is not in my plans to find the queen’s murderer, but if I do, you’ll be the first to know,” Sara said as she walked away. “I wish you well.”

It may have been considered impolite to talk to someone with your back turned, but Sara was only concerned with getting away from the Inquisitor as soon as possible. If the royal assassin did turn out to be the Champion of Salica, it was important to contain her if at all possible. When it came down to it, their mission was more important than the lives of even the royal family, but could she really trust an unrepentant murderer? It certainly wasn’t clear what she should do with that possibility, but she knew the Inquisitor would only complicate things further if he found the assassin first.

Whatever the case, she still had to deal with the fog. There was no way of knowing how long it would take to clear, but she felt certain that the one who cast it would be using it to hide. So, Sara decided to wait it out. She knew enough to be certain that the champion wouldn’t be leaving the city. Sooner or later, the two champions would meet there.

So, with little else to think about, she turned into a random nearby restaurant to discover she had stumbled upon cuisine from some island called Sister. The name seemed poignant in light of her search, so she asked for a table near the corner and began to peer at the menu. The choices seemed interesting enough, but she quickly found that her interest in food was limited to its potential for distraction. She glanced idly toward table next to her, where she noticed a brown-haired girl wearing thick glasses and a sensible blue dress. She would have seemed unremarkable to Sara if not for the nagging feeling that she should have recognized her.

The other girl seemed dazed and therefore took no notice of Sara’s furtive inspection. The poor thing looked like she’d been through something traumatic, but with evil creeping into the world, that could mean anything. As she studied the features in her face, she remembered a purple-haired girl from Galeon she’d recently met.

“Amelia?”

The girl looked startled as she turned to look at Sara. Comprehension did not take long to follow and, when it did, she bolted from the restaurant so quickly that she knocked over her chair and nearly upended the table. As she rose to give chase, she had barely a moment to register how much of her actions since the start of this journey had been guided by instinct. Just hours of arriving in a city she had visited on the vague whims of prophecy, she was now chasing a girl that she had assumed was a foreign traveler. It doesn’t get any crazier than this.

Not even wanting to consider being wrong about that thought, Sara focused on her chase. She managed to keep Amelia in sight, which was a relief. She didn’t have Clint’s tracking skills to rely on and hoped she wouldn’t need them. She was beginning to tire, though, and Amelia showed no sign of slowing down. Thinking drastically, she gave herself over to instinct once more. Suddenly, Amelia tripped, her left foot snared by the cobblestone beneath her feet. 

Sara breathed a sigh of relief as she approached the struggling girl. “I wish we could have had a pleasant discussion. There are a lot of people looking for you now and I’m one of the few you’d want to find you.”

The girl turned toward Sara and sighed. “Look, I have shit to do! Please let me go!”

Sara brushed the stone that encircled Amelia’s foot with her palm, causing it to recede into the ground. She then helped her to her feet and replied. “Whatever you need to do can wait until after we talk. Don’t try to run or you might just trip again.”

Amelia rounded on Sara with the look of a cornered animal. “Do you know what I do to people who see me more than once?”

“I think I have a pretty good idea at this point,” Sara replied coolly. “But you can’t hurt me right now. You’re frightened and confused, so yes, you may lash out. But there’s nothing you can do in this state that I’m not ready for.”

The assassin drew her knife and sneered. “Wanna bet?”

This time, the stone around her feet rose to swallow both legs. “I’ve already taken that bet because the odds are against you. Now let‘s go somewhere we can talk before the Inquisitor finds you.”

Amelia stared at Sara with a newfound look of confusion. “Why would a priestess care about who the Inquisitor’s after?”

Sara released the assassin once more. “I think you’re a despicable killer, but I also think the Gods see something else in you. Prove me wrong and you can probably imagine how the Inquisitor will find you.”

To illustrate her point, the road beneath the girl began to bubble. Amelia smirked.

“Not bad. I never realized you acolytes were able to do crap like this.”

Sara returned the girl‘s smirk. “Just be glad I’m not a Chaotic or Salican. Otherwise I could have seriously harmed you. Anyway, I‘m assuming that I know you by a false name. What should I call you?”

“Amelia’s fine.”

“I must know your true name.”“Amelia is my name. I almost never use it, but it’s on my birth records. Want to see?”

Sara shook her head in annoyance. “I’m starting to wonder if I can trust anything you say.”

Mia snorted. “Then, why bother asking?” 

 Next Chapter

It Comes For Those Who Don't Run Part 4

Back to the Beginning

Previous

It sniffs the air...

Aennin went to school that morning with an intense feeling that he couldn't discern. His mind burned with hatred for the classmate whose torment had extended to his own family, but he couldn't come up with a good idea as to what to do about it. He had held his own in their last encounter, but Samiel was surrounded by other people who were just as hostile to him. Nazan had said that he was being robbed by a group of people. Against that, what was he even to do?

He settled on trying to avoid him, concerned that his contempt would be too difficult to hide. There was no reason to invite a conflict he couldn't settle on his own. He had learned yesterday that no one would be on his side should he get into a fight. So, he spent the day trying to focus on his classes. But he never understood that his willing cooperation with the faculty was the source of Samiel's attention.

The school day was nearly over by the time Aennin finally bumped into Samiel and his friends, a trio of boys so intimidating that it was difficult to believe they were all the same age. He was returning from a break to his double history class when they appeared suddenly from around a corner. Without hesitation, Samiel pushed him to the ground.

"What a surprise! None of us thought we'd see you so soon after the beating you received yesterday!"

This was it; the moment he had been dreading all day. Blood pounding in his ears, he looked up with a look of pure disdain. He stood up

"We should destroy you after what we had to put up with yesterday," Samiel added with a glare of loathing. "I didn't deserve to be punished for putting you in your place."

"You've never been clear on what that place is," Aennin replied, his voice steady and slow. "It always seems to be getting beat up by four losers who have nothing better to do, as far as you're concerned."

Samiel moved closer to Aennin so that their faces where inches apart. "You've picked the wrong to start being a man. I wouldn't be so calm if I were you."

"I guess you just don't frighten me enough to keep me away from learning," he said with a confidence he should not have felt.

With a sneer, Samiel replied, "Why do merchant caste people like you need to go to school, anyway? All you have to do is learn your trade and numbers and someday your father may give you his shop."

Almost immediately, Samiel had stepped onto the exact source of his anger. He should have been thinking about how he was going to walk out of this encounter with more bruises, or a way to calm himself down. Instead, he found himself recalling a conversation he once had with his father, back when dealing with Samiel and his thugs was a new problem for him.

"Boy, if you're ever in a fight, there is only one thing you need to remember," Morrin had said, more seriously than anything he had ever said to him to that point. "'Fair fight.' 'Dirty fight.' Those phrases are for heroes and people who always lose. The law of the land is to revere life, but when its yours against someone else's, you hurt or you kill. That's the only way you win."

Aennin definitely wanted to hurt him, and he was far from caring how. So with a furious shout, he swiftly kicked the other boy between the legs. Samiel crumpled immediately to the floor, writhing in pain. His cronies watched him with a mixture of shock in amusement as Aennin kicked him in the ribs.

"There won't be a shop if you keep stealing our money, you pile of refuse!" Aennin shouted venemously.

The mild insult brought a glimpse of mirth to the faces of Samiel's dim companions, which quickly gave way to apprehension. Samiel rolled painfully to his hands and knees, only managing to sputter. "Kill this little shit, you morons!"

It lets out a warning growl...

Fortunately, the wrath of Samiel's friends was stayed by the timely appearance of three faculty members. The elderly professor from Aennin's classroom had apparently witnessed the start of their encounter and summoned help from the headmaster and the school's guard captain. All three men looked shocked to find Aennin standing over Samiel, and the guard captain was the first to speak.

"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded while ushering the three larger students back.

"He started it," Aennin muttered, his anger still seeping through his voice. "He always starts it."

The headmaster stepped toward Aennin, twirling his beard. "This is the second day in a row, Aennin! What am I to do with you?"

"Expel me. I don't care," Aennin said while turning his back on everyone else.

Ignoring the headmaster's protests, he stormed out of the school and straight toward home. As he traveled, his mind was full of thoughts that were stricken with emotion. Samiel was right about one thing. All he needed to secure his future was to protect the shop. Before that, Bronze Academy and the knowledge they planned to impart to him was meaningless.

Next

Death Touch Chapter 19

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Mia

The extravagance of Resta’s capitol city literally made Mia ill. Here, even the poorest members of society dwelled in homes carved from ornate marble while many others lived in mansions decked with a bounty of golden walls. It made sense, as the castle was built over what was believed to be the world’s largest gold mine. But as light glinted off the castle she had been casing, the young Starling, so suited for darkness, was starting to get dizzy. It was hard to see the advantage of living like this, but the residents of Resta City all seemed to wear an air of annoying contentment.

Why were they all so calm, anyway? She had personally seen to the deaths of two of the queens heirs. Surely this news should have reached these people by now. The press was a force of incredible speed, after all. Both of her assassinations, done at night, had been reported in the Restan Star the very next morning. Shouldn’t the speed at which the royals died have bothered anyone?

That was when a chilling thought occurred to Mia. These people might not even care about the royal family. The Queen was never the most well-liked among Resta’s rulers and, of her siblings, one was a drunk and the other an entitled socialite. The citizens might even welcome a change in regime. What difference does it make to these people when, for all they knew, their sickeningly charming lives were unaffected? For Operation Lighthouse to succeed, they would need to create an environment of fear, but she could see none yet.

These people need Operation Lighthouse, that’s for sure. How else would they know that a killer walks among them? With this veil that Dinorah talked about over their eyes, they would never see through her. Disguised as a royal clerk, she had donned a simple blue, silken dress, brown wig styled with long curls and thick, black glasses. No one questioned her presence there, not even the actual clerks. Her prepared cover story had gone unused for long enough that she began to wonder if anyone even noticed her presence at all.

Despite this, security was tight enough that she hadn’t yet discovered any means of getting close to the queen without being detected. The only place she could even see her was in the court, but that place was always crowded. Striking her target in her sleep would be ideal, but the residential towers could only be accessed from the second floor. She had tried to go up there once, but found the stairs guarded. Access was apparently restricted to royals, their guests, and their personal staff.

She needed more information, to be sure. It was time to put her cover story to use. Mia strolled casually through the cobblestone street leading up to the castle, her nose buried in her official-looking notepad. She had been scribbling some illegible notes as she went, using a shorthand that she knew wouldn’t make any sense to anyone who peered at them.

“Caravan murders uninvestigated?”

“Increasing temple attendance.”

“The Champions?”

“Goddess of Death credited with royal assassinations.”

“Salica.”

She glanced at the last of these phrases often as she continued to add to them. Although she had never seen the queen leave the castle, Mia kept hearing rumors that her highness was seen praying at the Temple of Salica. This rumor wouldn’t be unusual in a country so steeped in theocratic tradition, but why the queen would go to the trouble of hiding her visits nipped at the huntress‘ thoughts. At the same time, the subject came up with enough frequency that she suspected it was not only true, but significant.

The castle only had two public exits, so it was possible that there was a secret passage that the prey used to visit her temple of choice. This possibility brought a smile to her lips. She stopped halfway up the path and glanced toward the gold-plated gates that barred the castle from the rest of the city. I think it’s about time I found religion.

The temple of Salica, located along the city’s western wall, was plated with gold like any other major building in the capitol. Its marble stairway was parted by an inclined fountain and surrounded by planters filled with bluebells. Embossed in the gold above the temple’s towering mahogany doors was a creature with jagged protruding teeth, wide eyes, and four tentacles. Why a goddess would pick something so ugly to represent her was something Mia could not fathom in the time it took her to climb the stairs, so she pushed the thought out of her mind and went inside.

Much as it surprised her, an icy calm overtook Mia as she took notice of Queen Penelope Clark standing before her in the flesh. Her thick, dark brown hair always hung down to her shoulders; probably to conceal her ears, which were rumored to betray a part-elven heritage. If that were the case, Mia thought, she would be the only one among her siblings. If she weren’t soon to die, her own children couldn’t have lived to succeed her if she had any. Mia also took note of her unassuming cloak and unremarkable woolen dress, chosen with care to avoid drawing attention. She would have been an excellent Starling.

Mia was not altogether surprised to see that she had company, but displeased that it came in the form of remaining brother, Anthony. The Starlings had about working in front of their clients, mainly to maintain their mystique. Still, if it could possibly mean that they came unguarded, this could be seen as a potential break. Mia slipped casually into a darkened pew and watched her prey. Confident that neither queen nor prince had registered her presence, she edged the shadows of the dimly lit temple and began to listen to their whispered conversation.

“Sister, do you not realize what you are doing? People are in danger!” Anthony implored silently.

“I know that!” Penelope hissed lividly. “Our brother and sister are dead! Do you suppose the people would rather think of that or the RGT? I know what I’d say if you asked me!”

“How can you pretend nothing is wrong?” the prince demanded. “It’s not just our family who are dying? What is being done about the caravan murders?”

“The spellwarriors are handling it!”

“Funny. One of those spellwarriors who were supposedly handling it ended up in my infirmary last week with a disease I couldn’t diagnose! What do you make of that?”

“Perhaps you overestimate your skill as a doctor.”

“Or perhaps the disease isn’t scientifically possible!” Anthony roared, taking little effort to keep his volume down at this point. After Penelope shushed him imploringly, he continued in a frustrated whisper. “There are traces of magic at work that the entire collective knowledge of our kingdom can’t explain!”

“I’m hurt,” the queen retorted ironically. “I had believed that you had come back to mourn the loss of our siblings with me. How much time have you spent in the Library?”

“Don’t try to change the subject! All evidence points to something dangerous here! You have a responsibility to protect your people. Stop hiding the truth and cancel the festival!”

“Your forget your place! I am the queen, fulfilling the will of the gods! Unless some sign from Ragos himself says otherwise, we shall fill the pools, roast some fire crab, raise the tournament tents and honor him with our revelry! I can protect the citizens of this country without scaring them all!”

“I am sick of you acting like you know what’s best for everyone! A queen of the caliber you pretend to be would know that fear is more important than ignorance right now!”\

“Leave me!” the queen snarled. “Begone before I forget that you are all that remains of my bloodline!”

Anthony growled as he turned to leave. In the midst of his dramatic storm out, he caught Mia’s eye and nodded slightly. Seeing this irritated the Starling. Who does he think he is, directing me like that? More importantly, if he had noticed her presence who was to say that the queen hadn’t made her as well? Mia glanced around the room and noticed to her pleasure that they were alone. The Queen must have ordered everyone out so that she and her brother could talk in private, away from the ears of their “devoted” servants.

As Mia prepared to pounce, the prey turned straight toward her. “I’ve been expecting you,” she said.

Mia groaned exasperatedly. “What, are you a step ahead of me too? You share that trait with Johnny.”

The queen did not flinch at what Mia said, but shook her head distastefully. “Really? Is that remark meant to save face for admitting your incompetence? I suppose it makes sense to send a rookie after me. My people would recognize any other Scarlet Starling.”

With a sour expression, Mia replied, “Your inability to recognize me is the only advantage I needed, dead bitch walking. Just make with the cloaked guards so I can do some killing.”

“You think I need my guards? Here of all places?” the prey laughed mirthlessly. “No, the might of Salica is all the protection I’ll need. I thought, instead of having you beheaded, we might talk for a bit.”

“What’s the point of that?” Mia snapped impatiently. “You are in the Starlings’ way, so you die! It’s as simple as that!”

“You say I’m ’in the Starlings’ way?’” Penelope repeated with a frown. “Tell me, when did your oganization become so political? If I am to die tonight, I‘d like to know what I am dying for.”

“Like you don’t know!” Mia growled. “The answer was just smashed into your stupid face, like, a minute ago!”

Penelope gave a sigh of recognition. “Ah, so the Mother Starling agrees that I should be terrifying people, then?”

“You should be telling them the truth! I just killed two of your siblings! You’re about to die! Don’t you think people should be a little worried about stuff like that?”

“So, you’ll kill me and Anthony will become King. What exactly is this meant to accomplish?”

“How can you be so damned CALM right now! I’m going to kill you!”

“I am calm right now because I believe that these problems that my brother speaks of will be resolved in the hands of the gods. As the Queen of Resta, it is my duty to project that faith to everyone.”

“All the prayer in the world won’t stop you from leaving this room in a body bag!”

“I will not pray for my life, child. I pray that even in death, I will have done my part to prepare my people for the path the gods intended.”

“Ugh! I can’t stand this religious nonsense! How is your death supposed to be a good thing?”

“Do you ever go to Temple?”

Mia shook her head in irritation.

“Then you’ve not heard the legend of the five lands. It is a staple among our culture, you know!”

“Oh, this will be good!” Mia said with a snort.

“They say that the five lands of this world are joined by the wills of the four eldest deities. Salica plays with the people of the Midanian Isles. With so few of her kind left, she turns to these people for companionship. She is our friend. Serenity protects the people of Tanis. Having suffered countless tragedies, she doesn’t want her people to feel any heartbreak. She is our mother. Chaos tempers the people of Heron. Survival has never been a right and he takes it upon himself to ensure his people can take care of themselves. He is our father. Crane educates the people of Galeon. Designed with all the potential of his race, he guides the evolution of his people so that we may overcome their mistakes. He is our teacher. All gods love Resta, which means destiny. All gods share their blessings with us in order to prime us for the responsibility of someday continuing their legacy. They are our future.”

“How very lyrical,” Mia said, unimpressed. “Doesn’t explain why you think your death would be a good thing.”

“You’ve missed the point, then,” Penelope replied, finally betraying a hint of annoyance. “My death would be a tragedy. Perhaps even a calamity. But it is the will of the Gods that we will eventually stand among them as equals. How can we do so without some hardship?”

Mia’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying that every little fucked up thing that happens on this world is meant to happen? That the gods just throw this shit at us to toughen us up?”

“Your words are crude, but accurate. So, here we stand at the precipice of destiny. At this very moment, I have more trifling concerns than my life or even those of my family. Kill me, and the panic you desire will strike this country under Anthony‘s rule. Perhaps that will temper our people’s resolve in the long run. Otherwise, you should kill my brother instead so that I may maintain order long enough for the Gods to sort out said concerns. That way, we can maintain our stability and continue to evolve along our pre-existing path. Both outcomes have their merits, but as I’ve been so careless, I suppose that choice now falls to you.”

Mia started to feel unnerved by the serious implications of the queen’s lecture. Never before had she listened to a point of view that did not belong to a Starling or their clientele, so this discussion felt different in ways she could not define at that moment. Her heart raced with the enormity of her decision. Loyalty to the Starlings would expose the naked truth of things to the people, but what if they don’t need to know the truth? If mortals ever got too comfortable, the Gods would take care of that little problem, wouldn’t they?

Mia stared at Salica’s statue for the first time. She looked so young. Perhaps if she had been a mortal they could have been the same age. Damn it! I need to focus! Try as she might, however, she could not straighten her thoughts. Fear or Safety? Starlings or the gods? The queen or her heir? Her vision soon felt as clouded as her mind, flushed with a deep, uncompromising mist. Seeing this only deepened her bewilderment and compelled her to lash out with her dagger. When she noticed the blood that had sprayed her face, she began to run, but no matter where she ran, the inexplicable fog followed.

Next Chapter

Kaleth Marle, The Avatar of Geos

This is Kaleth, and he represents Geos, the God of Time as one of the Avatars. He was born in Resta to Kartal Marle, the Adjutant of Salica and Telandra Dawnstrike, The Avatar of Nidarys early in the Third Age. His story is complicated and best told in The Boy Who Shouldn't Exist. Suffice it to say that he is an eternal reminder to his father of the disastrous consequences of interfering with the natural flow of time and a loving partner to Aennin Moonstep. The two of them live together in Resta's Foldo temple, leading the respective adherents of their respective deities.

EDIT: Once again, the art is contributed by Volt

The Boy Who Shouldn't Exist Part 1

The destruction of Comalan was nearly complete, buried under the weight of hordes of sai'mul warriors. Most of Resta, all of Midania and Tanis, and half of Galeon had been overrun by this numberless undead army. Only Heron, with its less than navigable landscape had managed to stay safe from the sai'mul, but the mortal survivors knew it was only a manner of time before there was nowhere for them to turn their attention. Life in the north had never been pleasant, so it came as little surprise that tension had become an inescapable fixture in the lives of everyone who still breathed.

It was in this climate that Kaleth Marle found himself, one among countless orphans created by this onslaught of death. He had only managed to escape his parents fate when the sai'mul ravaged his school in Tanis. His family were Restan, but he had been drawn to the druidic arts that the elves had cultivated from a young age. Perhaps it was his desire to get in touch with his elven heritage or a desire to stand apart from his parents' roles in the clergy that had compelled him to move to Orion for his education. The boy had spent many weeks since the calamity began trying to work out why he had left his family to die because there was nothing else to sustain him.

When the undead attacked Orion, Kaleth was at a loss at how he was going to survive even the destruction of this city. He was staggering exhaustively to his apartment after a particularly gruesome beast-taming lesson when a brute he would later come to know as Mordecai had barged onto Silver Street. For a sai'mul, this man was massive and his strength was enough for him to pick up one of the city guards who had jumped into his path by his skull and toss him like a rag doll. He let out a feral roar as dozens of elves began to flee in terror. 

Kaleth, however, remained rooted in place as dozens more sai'mul arrived to join the hulking terror that led them. He was simultaneously too tired to run and too terrified to process the idea to do so. The sai'mul advanced through Silver Street at a deliberate pace, snickers filling the air as they drew closer to the paralyzed boy. Kaleth had recovered his wits just in time to realize that he didn't have time to escape Mordecai, who scowled as he realized that his next prey wouldn't be fleeing.

That was when he felt the hand on his shoulder. It whipped him away from the sai'mul and brought a tall, slender man with spiked red hair. He wore a scowl as well, but was already tugging Kaleth into action.

"Move or die, idiot!"

These words were all Kaleth needed to shock him into running as fast as he could. The other elf who followed him kept pace rather easily, but it was already too late. The sai'mul were close and gaining on the exhausted boy and his sudden savior. 

"You should have decided you were going to flee sooner, coward!" Mordecai spat as he ran.

Kaleth's heart seemed to explode at that moment, not with exertion, but desperation. So severe was his need to escape that his will seemed to exert to slow down everything around him. While he and the other elf had been running at the same pace the whole time, he started to notice that he and his companion were handily passing other people in their path. He did not dare to look back, but he could no longer feel Mordecai's hands looming over him.

When they reached a set of stairs leading to the surface, both of the elves sighed and chanced a look back. The sai'mul had stopped pursuing them to slaughter the other people they had passed. The stranger looked back and smirked. 

"I guess they were slower than they looked!" He exclaimed with a roar of laughter. "Well, now comes the hard part. You're on your own, kid."

The man began to ascend the stairs with all of the agility of an acrobat, skipping whole pairs of steps with fleet, leaping paces. Kaleth watched him move with amazement before looking back toward the undead attackers. Everyone else behind him appeared to be either dead or undead and they had resumed their pursuit of the two who had escaped. Kaleth figured at that moment that the other man had planned for everyone else on the street to distract the marauders and enable his escape.

"Well, you can just distract them for me," Kaleth mumbled to himself.

Then, with the last bit of strength he could muster, he called some magic to his core and felt himself began to shrink. His arms folded in on themselves, his lips began to stretch outward, his nose shrinked into those growing lips, and bronze feathers began to grow rapidly from his skin. Mordecai was nearly caught up when the falcon Kaleth had become flapped his wings rapidly, gaining height over his pursuers as quickly.

He enjoyed a moments' relief with the thought that the gargantuan zombie could no longer. This relief faded quickly for two reasons. The first was that he had yet to escape and, worse still, he had limited energy with which to do so. The second reason came when the army of the dead raised their rifles. With a screech, Kaleth flapped even harder to ascend past Silver Street and leave it behind for good. 

When he reached Queen's Square, it was only to discover that the surface level of the city was overrun by the undead as well. This shouldn't have come as any surprise to him, since the Queen's Square was the only entrance or exit to the entire city. They were trapped.

Kaleth scanned the ground for possible escape routes and quickly found the man from before nearing the south gate. Far from fleeing as he did before, he appeared to be fighting the sai'mul who stood in his way. He seemed to be holding them off well with only a knife in each hand. He was flanked by a trio of tall, black creatures who stood on two legs and jabbed at the sai'mul with barbed tails. Maulans! 

The falcon decided to swoop toward the south gate, taking advantage of this peculiar diversion. He was only yards away from open sky when a bullet from below struck his right wing. The other man looked up as Kaleth spiraled into the ground close by. His momentary distraction prevented him from blocking a swift hammer blow from the enemy to his core, which knocked the wind out of him. The maulans jumped protectively in front of him.

Kaleth's magic wore off when crashed into the ground, leaving a broken and even more tired oni gazing up at the raiders he had recently been looking down on. The elf stumbled backward and knelt over Kaleth, a pained smirk on his face.

"If I had known you could be so useful..." he winced before concluding, "I'd have waited for you."

Kaleth couldn't find the energy to respond in such a hopeless situation.

The elf patted the boy's head and smiled reassuringly. "We're both getting out of here. Try not to die in the next few minutes."

Those were the last few words he heard before losing consciousness.

Continue

The Magister's Rage, Part 6

Click here to go back to Part 5

When I returned to my home, I had been very surprised by what I found. Bellarose was still there. She had, in fact, moved into the house as she waited for me. Although, she seemed genuinely pleased to see me at first, I could tell something was bothering her. Upon pressing her, she told me that she knew where I had been. She described what had befallen Miles in detail that could only have been possible had she personally witnessed it.

Suddenly, I was reminded of Star, a former member of our coven. She had joined us shortly before that night and left us shortly after. She had been my beloved all along. She and Miles had gotten together to try to extract me from the coven, but had avoided telling me so at Miles' insistence. When their miscalculation sealed Miles' fate, Bellarose had given up on their plan and left me. I thank the gods for that daily. If she had seen the worst of my crimes, I would never have been able to bear it.

But why, I asked, did she come back to this house, where she had every reason to believe I may someday return? It was then that she repeated the words she said to me before my expulsion from Hem.

"I once told you not to lose hope, Gyanda. You may be cursed, but you are also gifted. I have never known a stronger person than you. I knew you would find your way back."

We had both missed much in the last two-and-a-half years, but she allowed me to say what I was willing about my ordeal first. I told her of what happened to Miles before he disappeared and some of the benign spells I learned. I told her, without getting into specific details, about my disgust with some of the things Samson had me do. I then told her about the fight with Seth Midas and how Samson had quelled Garanda's rage and dragged him away. Finally, I talked about how I finally came to the decision to leave the coven. As I spoke, Bellarose listened passively, trying not to show any emotion. But when I finished, she pulled me into the tightest embrace we had ever shared.

“This has all been so unfair, I know, but you can put it behind you now, right?”

I was determined to. I had gone farther than I ever wanted in my rebellion against the gods and, in the end, it had all turned out to be for nothing. It was the magic of Serenity that had finally given me the tool I needed to protect those around me from Garanda's wrath, not blood magic. I understand that no one at the Blackstone Monastery had any knowledge of such a spell, but I couldn't excuse Samson's duplicity. I couldn't remotely fathom why he would have me go to so much trouble to learn spells that were completely unnecessary to me.

“Yes,” I replied tearfully, “I have no further intention of dealing with that cretin.”

I expected Bellarose to hate me for everything I had done, especially my betrayal of our friend. However, she was truly relieved that I had left the coven behind and it wasn't long before she showed me why. In one of the previously unused rooms of the house, there stood a white wooden crib. I was speechless as she walked over to the furnishing and picked up a beautiful baby girl with black hair so like my own. She handed the child to me, introducing her as Maria. As I looked into her eyes, I began to feel sick due to the sudden recollection of the Claire children. But I forced myself not to look away and soon, began to feel a warmth I'd not felt since before I left this house to join Samson.

Maria Lily Maloran, she was called. She would be the first of three extraordinary daughters, who saved me from my darkness and turned my doubts into hope. Kren was born twelve years later, and my youngest, Sarianna, followed another sixteen years later. For thirty years, I lived in bliss with Bellarose and my children, undaunted by the terror of Garanda. The days were filled with bliss as I played games with Maria, impressed Kren with displays of magic, and chased Sarianna throughout the house.

I knew that the happiness could not last indefinitely; not while Samson was still out there. I remembered well his threat to kill me if I left the coven, knowing his name. To a practicing blood mage, no other piece of information is more vital to protect. So, I knew it was only a matter of time before he chose to come for me. I probably should have stayed well away from my family until he was dealt with, but my dearest ladies were the only people for who I could convince myself that the past could be put behind me. It was selfish of me to cling to them so desperately, knowing the danger that my former teacher posed.

I paid for this mistake on the morning of Sarianna's second birthday. I had tried not to leave my family in the time I shared with them up to that point. But after three decades years, I had let my guard down. I had only gone to Beldor for a last-minute gift. When I returned, my home had been turned over and was empty. I knew that my greatest fear had been realized. Among the wreckage, I found the only clue I needed:

“I await you at the place you discovered my name.”

The location was not far. I found Samson Amul in the Hilltop Inn, our young hamlet's only lodge. Such a public place seemed an odd location for a blood mage to request a meeting, but there were no witnesses. I arrived to discover that a blood bath had been made of the innkeeper and the lodgers. This violent display deepened my sense of foreboding. When the blood mage showed himself, he paraded my wife and children in full display before him. They all seemed miraculously unhurt at first glance, but seemed to be locked into some sort of trance. Samson wasted little time in getting to the point.

“I will give you one chance, Gyanda,” Samson said with an unambiguous air of disdain. “This family of yours is standing in the way of your greatness, so you are going to bleed them all dry and return to the coven. For a man like you, there can only be greatness or death.”

Even after everything I had done with this man, I had the good sense to be insulted by this proposition. I only responded by cutting my own palm to erect a barrier over the hostages with my own blood. There would be no going back. Even if I must give up every drop of my own life force, I was determined to stop Samson Amul from harming my family.

“You truly are a prodigy,” Samson crooned, “It has taken nearly every member of our coven, even myself, decades to learn what you've mastered in such a short time. With your gift for magic, you could be the first mortal to achieve the splendor of the gods you claimed to hate! You are wasting your potential!”

Knowing the truth, I could only scoff at his pronouncement. “I have no reason to hate the gods any longer. I know that the spell you used to banish Garanda was a Serene spell!”

Samson grinned amusedly. “So what? Do you honestly believe that you would have figured that out without learning from me? Just how did you figure out how I cast my spell? Tell me, Gyanda. How far, exactly would you have gone to best your inner demon?”

Of course he knew, I thought then. “I have done terrible things I will never be able to undo. All while you told me that I must in order to learn a spell I could have cast the day I met you.”

“You had to learn! You now wield very essence of humanity itself! You have the potential to become the strongest living being, human, elf or even god! Your rage is the hope of our glorious revolution!”

“My rage is strongest toward you now!” I spat angrily. “You used me! You manipulated my anger to fuel your own desire of overthrowing the Fadalians!

I unleashed the full fury of my disillusionment on Samson, fueled by the indignity of being misled so easily. His scowl deepened with every word as my lack of intention to rejoin the coven became clearer and clearer. Finally, he could stand no more. He cut open his palm and flung a lance of his own blood toward me. I reacted, not with more blood magic, but the conjuration of wall of flame. My old magic had weakened from neglect, but it stopped the lance.

With my blood protecting my family, I had few reservations against throwing the full weight of the rest of my skills against Samson. Although I had improved in my control of magic since training with Samson, I had not developed the power of any of these spells. With only traditional magic to rely on, I had not fared better than I did the first time I opposed him. This time, when I fell against his superior force, I had no hope that he would spare me. As I lay there, prepared to die, Bellarose threw off the spell that bound her in trance. Her eyes welled with tears as I struggled on the ground before him.

Cornered, I saw only one option. I knew that it could be my undoing. I knew that it would not guarantee the safety of my wife and children. I also knew that it was the only way I could stop Samson once and for all. I held out my split hand, spilling far more of my blood than I ever had before. The blood strengthened my barrier, hardening it to the strength of steel. With my strength drained, I soon blacked out.

When I awoke, Samson was gone, the inn appeared to have been ripped apart board by board, and my family was still trapped in the barrier. The girls had awakened from Samson's trance, and had begun to wail in terror. Bellarose screamed my name, willing me to get up and release them. I held a shaking palm to the outside of the barrier and recalled as much of the blood as I possibly could. The barrier vanished, allowing my dearest ladies to reach me. I had won, but I only had the vaguest idea as to how it had transpired. When everything had settled, Bellarose told me what I had missed.

With my life drained, Garanda emerged as I had planned. Samson was initially amused by my gambit, but far less so after he tried to banish the spirit once more. The spell failed, owing as Garanda had said, to the trembling in Samson's hands. So powerful was the terrifying aura that we cast, that direct eye contact interfered with his casting. It made sense, when I thought of it. Samson could only banish the spirit when our back was turned to him. Now, facing our gaze directly, he was powerless. Garanda ripped through the building with a heavy blade I'm quite sure I never owned in his fierce pursuit of Samson. Lacking the ability to fight back, Samson fled. Garanda's rage turned toward my family, but my barrier held firm as I had hoped. With no way to sate his bloodlust, he gave up and vanished.

For the first and only time, I used my adversary as Samson used me. Knowing the spell that banished him, I knew I would not fall to the same trap that the blood mage did. Knowing that I could use Garanda in this way made certain that Samson would not bother me again. He acknowledged my potential long before then, and now had every reason to fear me. But my victory had come at a cost. My daughters feared me. It took a long time for them to trust me again and even longer for me to forgive myself. I very nearly lost everything because I gave in to the despair that my curse brought upon me. Now that I know what I have to lose, I am oddly filled with hope.

From that day, I lived under the impression that I am in full control of the demon. I have not since been confronted with the need to banish Garanda, so I can never be sure that this is true. One thing I knew for certain is that I would never again allow my curse to interfere with my life. Although my childhood dream was forever gone, I found a new one in my dearest Bellarose. Nothing remained to stand in the way of my happiness beside the memories of time wasted on my atrocious experiments. But there was one more loose end that I had to take care of.

Click here to continue to Part 7

Tanis

Tanis is Comalan's westernmost nation, sharing a northern border with Heron, a southern border with Galeon, and an eastern border with Resta. The overwhelming majority of the country is shrouded in forests, lending an air of mystery to its landscape. It is known as the home of both elves and dwarves, both of which are typically indifferent to human excursions into their land. The nation enjoys a variable climate, that is arid and hot around Marble Desert to the south, but which experiences cool summers near its Northern Borderlands.

These disparate climates are experienced in equal measure by the many travelers who cross their respective borders into Tanis frequently for different reasons. In the north, Heron braves frequent forays into Tanisian land for their plentiful lumber, which the elves and dwarves have no use for. This frequent trespassing and elven reverence for Tanisian plant life has bred mutual hostility between the two countries that has persisted throughout all of recorded history. To the south, Galeans frequently visit Marble Desert to study the unique life forms of Comalan's only known desert. Tanisians are more welcoming of these people due to their respect for the creatures of Tanis and years of friendly interaction throughout the Second and Third Ages have led the people of Tanis to consider Galeon its ally. Resta is the most respectful of their border with Tanis. People cross the bridge that links the two countries freely to experience what each side has to offer, but never in threatening numbers. This has revealed a cultural affinity between Tanisians and Restans, who share their passion for religion before reason. This has allowed a cordial relationship to exist between the two countries that is only occasionally challenged by Resta's positive tolerance of Heron.

Tanisian cities are self-governed independent states which are each led by its own council. These councils are responsible for all local policy and for coordinating the protection of their respective stretches of forest from lumberers and poachers. These Councilors are elected to ten year terms through an ancient ritual that is meant to keep any power random and limited. The idea that every councilor will eventually be replaced through an unpredictable appointment makes corruption a rare outcome; few councilors dare to risk provoking the ire of anyone who might end up holding power over them later. In addition to local councils, there is a National Council located in the capitol city of Orion which is charged with coordinating national affairs such as border defense and relief funding.

The people of Tanis almost exclusively favor subterranean dwellings, choosing to build their cities into the ground rather than harm their trees by expanding outward. Elves, in particular, revere the trees so much that lumbering is legally comparable to poaching in Tanis, both of which are taken more seriously than violent crimes against people. While many foreigners find the elves' fierce protection of the forest counterproductive, they have managed to flourish by developing a strong affinity for metalwork and masonry that is meant to eliminate any and all need for wood or leather. As such, their textiles are largely developed through synthetic fabrics and their structures are built of stone and metal. While this hasn't always been the case, no elf will talk about the days when they used to harvest plants for anything besides sustenance.

While the elves built their cities into the ground, dwarves once lived even deeper into the earth, exploring endless natural tunnels and subsisting on fungus from the middle of the First Age all the way to the beginning of the Third Age. Since their discovery by the Avatar of Crane, the dwarves have been quick to integrate into Tanisian society. This has proven to be problematic because, while the dwarves have worshiped Crane since before Serenity claimed dominion over the forest, Tanis' national religion has always been strictly Serene. This religious dichotomy is new to both races, and has been eased only by Tanis' friendly relationship with Galeon, another culture devoted to Crane.

In the First Age, Tanis was known as Terris, the birthplace of earth magic, a fact which is evident in the powers of the Stoneguard, who use precious gems to invoke powerful magic. The elves of the First Age enjoyed a golden age of art and technology when they were uplifted by Serenity that wasn't to last. Their mastery of the gods' ancient language, as well as their cultural legacy were all sealed in stone following the resolution of the War of The Gods, for which Serenity punished the people of Terris by burying their cities with a seismic vengeance. Following the lead of Galeon and Heron, Terris was renamed to Tanis as a symbol of a new path for the elven people. Since then, the elves have worked in earnest to clear the tons of stone and debris that have filled their cities level by level, redevelop their lost infrastructure, and rediscover their lost culture.

These efforts are bolstered by the caste system that defines modern elven society, which was enacted specifically to expedite the restoration and expansion of their cities. The first of the castes is the Elder Caste, who are well educated and specifically trained to lead. Elders comprise the majority of all local councils and the entirety of the National Council, but less ambitious members of the caste as well as those who have recently served a council term trend toward military service. The second caste is the Mercantile Caste, which contains the craftsmen, artists, and traders of Tanis. Their purpose is to drive the Tanisian economy, relieve members of the other castes with necessary goods and services, and guide the future of Tanisian culture. The third, and most important, of the castes is the Worker Caste. While one might expect this caste to be composed strictly of the laborers who clean and build the cities, it also includes the archaeologists who interpret any important findings from the rubble and the educators who disperse the knowledge gained from their excursions. While most outsiders and dwarves are critical of the caste system, elves in general recognize it as a necessary evil that will eventually be retired once they reclaim everything they have lost.

***

Society

• More on the Caste System - I might have nailed the gist in this post, but here's some more info anyway.

Folklore and Festivals

• The Legend of Bear the Eversprite Hound - The story of a creature from Tanis who was dragged to Resta by poachers.

• Tey Bola ul Handeen - The folklore behind Tanis' winter festival.

Stories

• It Comes for Those Who Don't Run- The ongoing story of Aennin Moonstep, the Avatar of Maula.

People

• Aennin Moonstep - The Avatar of Maula.