Circle of Reign (65 page)

No!
she protested.
No!

Her hands shook and she nearly dropped the sword.

“I can smell your fear!” he growled. “So succulent!”

Search deep
, her father coaxed.
Accept the fear, feed on the friction. Command it!

The fire of raging fear that climbed up inside Reign’s soul should have been all consuming, immobilizing her. But she was not the child she used to be. She saw her vision expand inside, larger and wider until she could take in the panoramic view of all her fear. The pool was expansive and growing. She had to keep expanding herself to stay ahead of it.

Demand that it obey you!

“Relitha!”

The knot of fear ceased to grow and waited. It was a well of friction waiting to be tapped. She did tap it and the friction fueled her attack. It only took one movement. With all the power and
Light from the forest that she had stored inside her, along with the fear friction she had captured, Reign thrust her sword forward with a velocity that caused a crack in the air. Thunder sounded around her and the smell of burning air filled her nostrils. She felt the blade pierce the chase-giver and lodge itself deep in the oak tree. The vibration that jarred her as the blade suddenly ceased its empowered thrust would have broken her arms had her bones and sinews not been reinforced by the Light inside her. As the image of the Helsyan slumped on her blade, lifeless only in her mind, the word found her lips.

“
Vrathia
!” she screamed, sending forth the power she cradled through her sword of Jarwynian steel.

Both the visceral Helsyan phantom and oak tree exploded. When the smoldering air cleared, no evidence of the imagined enemies remained. Only the destroyed tree’s waste and debris were present.

“What was that?” she asked.

Wrath. It is a strong emotion. The word you spoke can turn it to a weapon
.

“And the steel conducts it,” she surmised.

Yes. Only Jarwynian ore has this conductive property
.

Reign smiled hesitantly. “
Threyil
? Is that jealousy I’m feeling from you?”

Admiration, daughter. Only admiration
.

“Are we done for now?”

Take the acorn seedling from your pocket
.

Reign retrieved it and held it in her outstretched hand.

Lay it on the broadside of your blade and speak the words you feel
.

She balanced the seedling on her blade and searched her mind and her father’s.

“Ven Puwlartia,”
she whispered. A portion of Living Light flowed out of her, traveled through the specialized metal and infused the acorn. She planted it in the center of the smoldering crater where the oak had stood moments before.

“What did that do?” Reign asked.

A sliver of Lumenati Light will flow through the new tree, allowing it to be fluent when it matures. Its growth will also be accelerated greatly
.

Reign began walking back to where she had left Jayden hours ago. Her travel was slow as her mind finally allowed her body to relax. The waves of weariness washed up against her mental shores. She had sent Crimson Snow back as well hours ago. The wolf was not happy but had obeyed nonetheless.

It will not be so easy when you finally meet him
.

She did not answer.

He will be vicious, Reign. More so than I can conjure for you to prepare against
.

“I know.”

You do understand he will find you? It is inevitable
.

“Yes, I know.” Her tone was flat. “I just need rest now. Truly this time.”

You will need less than you think. A couple hours at most
.

“A couple days,” Reign corrected, but she knew this was not possible.

The Living Light inside you is incredibly regenerative. With the amount you have taken in, you may not even need two hours and you will likely not need any sleep. Just rest. You will see
.

“Threyil,”
she began but hesitated. “I must ask you about something.”

Thannuel waited, but she could tell he knew what she was going to ask. Being inside her provided him access to her mind as well.

“After you died, there were many reports. They all spouted evidence that you had planned to usurp power from the High Duke, that you were a traitor.”

She kicked a rock through an open clearing. It went much farther than she had intended.

“No one believed them, of course. Not at first. After time, and with more and more supposed evidence coming forth, people did start to doubt. But never us, never Hedron or mother. But the things people said…it was too much for most. They claimed to have found secret stashes of maps of the Realm with notes, charts
of the seas with currents and tides noted. Even an attack plan on Iskele and Wellyn’s palace. Weapons in hidden chambers under the hold and—”

It’s true
.

Reign stopped walking. “What? I don’t believe you.” But she confirmed what he said by viewing his memories. “No! It can’t be! How could you—”

It’s not what it appears, my daughter. You only see the surface. All that is happening now is a consequence of the Ancient Dark. The Gyldenal were preparing for a scenario they hoped would never develop, but that most saw as an eventuality. Do not judge with such haste. There is more. Much more. But the time is not quite right. Do not try to search through my mind for the answers now. You must put your mind at rest for the time being. Arlethia’s extinction pounds eagerly at our very door
.

Jayden slept against a large elm tree. In slumber, the old woman looked like she could be part of the tree itself. So peaceful and tired she looked that Reign was afraid to wake her. But Jayden surprised her by waking up instantly when Reign was within a few steps and coming to her feet spryly. Her eyes were young even if her body was not.

“How did you know I approached?” Reign asked. “You are not a wood-dweller and my step carries no sound.”

“I know your current, little one.”

Reign didn’t understand but instead of acknowledging her ignorance asked, “Will we go to Arlethia now?”

“Almost, yes, but not to your brother. Not yet.”

FORTY-EIGHT

Shilkath

Day 5 of 2
^nd
Dimming 412 A.U.

IT WAS NEARLY TIME.
The border where Arlethia began could easily be discerned. Life was more vibrant and lush almost immediately. The land thrummed with vitality and the air became noticeably warmer. Shilkath reveled in the vengeance he would release upon those who betrayed his kin, and he felt Hawgl tense underneath him. The beast was anxious for blood after so long of a journey. Vyath would smile this day as the land turned red with the blood of an entire race. More than anything, Shilkath longed for conquest and the lush land called Senthara.

Alysaar scouts had reported the location of many small villages and two larger cities in the northern reaches of this land. The trees’ leaves and upper branches seemed woven together for leagues as one solid covering, hiding and protecting those far below.

“It’s like a living barrier,” Bellathia said as she swooped down and glided next to the Deklar. “We cannot see our forces below.”

“Prethor knows his duty and does not require our assistance,” Shilkath replied. His nephew led the infantry march on the ground.

“What of this green shield below us?” Bellathia was stunned to see the heights the trees reached.

“Our Alysaar will pierce it like a glowing red spear head through ice and feast upon the flesh of the traitors cowering underneath.”

“Your nephew is not wrong, Deklar. They are not weak. I do not foresee this being an easy victory.”

“But it will be a victory nonetheless. The fool Wellyn has done his part. See the destruction ahead down from the horizon.” Shilkath motioned to a barren spot where a stretch of dark statues in tree-like forms manifested themselves. “Their armies are now in the frozen plains of Kulbrar.”

“Vyath’s Blood!” Bellathia swore. “What power can do such a thing?”

“It is a Dark Influence, as they call it, that our kin discovered but never understood how to use. Wellyn has a most cunning serpent.”

“Servant, you mean.”

“All servants are serpents. I said what I meant. Now get back in formation.”

Bellathia’s Alysaar grunted as she pulled back on the reins and directed it back to their place in the winged battery formation. As they approached the barren area of stone trees, many of the Borathein muttered curses and disbelief. Shilkath only saw the thousands of dead below. Arlethian and Senthary alike lay still, slain. Several thousand score, he guessed. The stench was powerful, but it did not offend the Deklar. Ravens and crows fought for claim over the sea of carcasses amongst the stone forest floor. Looking east, he saw smoke trails coming from small fires on the ground just outside the forest’s borders. The remnant of the Sentharian army, Shilkath knew. He thought he might hear some celebration through the thin air where he flew, but no such sound was heard. A raven dared fly too close to his winged mount and the Alysaar snapped its neck in a whiplash as fast as lightning, impaling the bird on its bony maw before extending its long tongue to pull it from the spikes and into its mouth.

This is no price we have been asked to pay for our new lands
, Shilkath thought.
Destroying these vile creatures is a pleasure
. He wondered if he would be able to lift his head after all the glory of his victory
was added to his beard. The most prized he would wear daily in his beard and the others would be displayed in his palace, he decided.
No more tents with frozen ground or caves burrowed from frozen rock for my dwelling. A palace befitting a Deklar will finally be mine to rule from, as Vyath would have it
.

Below, he heard the screams. Prethor must have come upon a village of some kind and was busy exterminating its population. Shilkath could not see the action taking place, but knew the sounds of weaker beings being sent to the frozen plains. His sights were set on Calyn, the state city of Arlethia, according to Wellyn. This is where the greatest population would be found, and any hope of a battle. If there was still a spirit to fight among these people, he knew he would find it there. Unlike others under his command, such as Bellathia, Shilkath remained skeptical of the force that would oppose them after seeing the devastation Wellyn’s forces brought upon the Arlethians. He prayed to Vyath that his Griptha would be more than a matter of eradicating the treacherous wood-dweller spawn from their lands as mere pests to be swept away. He yearned for a worthy fight to bring glory to himself and his people.

And then
, he promised himself,
we shall eventually have the entire land to ourselves, even Arlethia. Wellyn will not be able to stop us
. He had decided that, as he fully expected some kind of treachery from Wellyn, he must be preemptive.

The horde under his command was followed by the remainder of his people, still more than a span of days behind them on the ice desert. After uniting all the disparate nahgi under himself as the lone Deklar, his people’s purpose had been unified, their resolve solidified. There was no turning back, no home to return to. They were determined to conquer or perish in their holy Griptha. Shilkath brought one hand to his chest and rubbed the scar where he had opened his flesh upon the altar of Vyath. He had pledged his all to this Griptha by that ordinance. Failing meant death and eternity in Kulbrar with no remaining kin to avenge his people should they fail. He would never walk barefoot upon the warm
Shores of Thracia after this life if he died in defeat. He would succeed. He
must
succeed.

Seilia would not run. Others had fled as the vibrations of the approaching invaders surged. There were those, like herself, who felt compelled to remain. She sent Mikahl and Rue-anna away, south to Calyn with all the other younglings of the village. She knew their age of innocence had passed despite still being under ten years old. They were well ahead of the slow moving invaders and would be safe. She prayed the Ancient Heavens’ protection upon her children.

How many had stayed? Maybe one hundred of her small village? She didn’t bother to count—the number didn’t actually matter. She had her husband’s quiver with less than a score of arrows her children had crafted. The bulk of their produce she sent with them to provision the forces gathering in Calyn. Joining the few who remained, Seilia stepped up to a line they had formed in front of their homes and laid the quiver at her feet. Elderly men, mostly infirm, and mothers. One of her husband’s bows was slung over her shoulder. With trembling hands, she unslung it and notched an arrow. The thick linen fibers were reverse twisted, slightly tapering thinner near the center of the string to increase the arrow’s velocity. Her fingers felt numb against the rough bowstring as she traced the line up to one end of the curved wood. A simple bowyer’s knot joined the limb and string at each end.

The weapon felt heavy in her arms as she brought it up and pulled the string back. The webbing between her thumb and fore-finger fit snugly under the corner of her jaw and she centered the blurred string close to her eye. She held and tried to calm her shaking arms. A single tear ran down her face as the marauders came into view. It was cold in the breeze and dried before the trickle reached her lips. Large men, long bearded and clad in thick clothing, marching in disciplined ranks. They had the hardened look
of those whom mercy had abandoned, leaving no trace of it within them. She expected none to be granted.