Circle of Reign (73 page)

Thirteen
, he reminded himself. He counted to be sure once again and confirmed his earlier recollection. Once they saw the loincloth-clad creature, the thirteen lowered their hoods. Astonishment was too weak a word to describe what Roan felt as he saw each of the thirteen with the same exact shorn head and markings that the intruder had on his scalp. The
exact
same markings in shape, dimension and all aspects.

The next moments Roan witnessed carved their own motes of disbelief in his brain and would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Dralghus ignored the soldiers around him once he saw the arrival of his brethren. The Senthary men were nothing more than flies to him.

“Brethren!” he shouted. Thirteen hoods lowered, revealing the familiar markings of a Helsyan. “See me! You all know me. You know I was once one of you. A slave, lower than a dog to a man who deserved neither our respect nor obedience.”

Dralghus’ kin listened in silence, unresponsive to his words.

“The
Urlenthi
’s hold on me is broken. I am freed by the Dark Mother herself and have sworn to reclaim Helsya for the Ancient Dark. Witness and behold! You see me walking without the shackles of our curse!”

“We must obey the Stone of Orlack,” one answered. “It is our curse.”

“Nay, brother, you must be freed from the
Urlenthi
as I have been. You see my body, ridged and defined as if Charged, yet no Charge is upon me nor shall ever be again save I choose it!”

They think me crazed
, Dralghus realized when they remained motionless and showed no enthusiasm. He understood that they all viewed him as wasted because of his long-failed Charge, which had wracked him for all these years.
They will see
.

“Kemen, brother, step forward.” Dralghus beckoned to the one who had spoken. “Do you know your real name? Who you really are?”

Kemen did not answer.

“I know you,
Heluth
,” Dralghus declared, using the Helsyan’s true name. Kemen fell to his knees and tried to reach between his shoulder blades from behind his head with one arm and from below with the other. Rocking back and forth, the man screamed and tore his robe free from his body. A red glow illuminated his name glyph, deeper than the color of cooking coals. The other twelve chase-givers marveled.

“Dark Mother, I pray you to free my brother Heluth, that he may reclaim Helsya by my side and once again raise seed unto the Ancient Dark.” After a few more seconds, Kemen arose as Heluth. His muscles bulged and he stood erect, strong, as if a Dahlrak had just been issued to him.

“I now serve the Ancient Dark, Mother of Helsya, and him first freed, the Unshackled, the Shatterer of the
Urlenthi
,” he proclaimed. “The
Urlenthi’s
claim on me is broken!” Heluth let loose a cry that caused the scared Senthary who looked on to shake from fright.

Dralghus began to call the others by their true names, repeating the simple ritual.

Croathus.

Valagul
.

Greyvin
.

Zoraman.

Hagülus.

Thaxil.

Marint.

Alendry.

Cadán.

Shimarr.

Kalithar.

Rykam.

Each rose after being freed, their old names forgotten. Dralghus reveled in seeing the strength that stood before him. Freed Helsyans, the first of his race, of the citizenry of Helsya, soon to be reclaimed.

Reborn!

Dralghus took the amulet he had removed from Wellyn’s dying body and held it up for his brethren to behold. From the backside of the gold disc, he stripped the translucent white stone free.

“We now behold this trinket as no more than a childish curiosity. For centuries, the Light has used this to keep us beholden to weaker beings. Most unworthy masters! A curse made to curb us, to hinder our rule upon this world! No more!”

Dralghus crushed the
Urlenthi
in his hands as though it were stale bread and reduced it to powder. From his open hand the wind took it into oblivion.

They went forth as lions among lambs, tearing and crushing thousands of the Senthary men to unrecognizable ichor pulp. Each kill brought the thrill of a completed
Dahlrak
. Thousands more fled in any direction they could to try and escape the horrific scene upon them. When the ecstasy of the moment had peaked, Dralghus commanded a cease to the sport. He saw his brethren in
a state of rapture and knew they were experiencing their newfound freedom in waves of spasmodic jubilation that were hard to control. There were a few hundred soldiers left, on their knees begging for mercy and calling on the Ancient Heavens for deliverance.

“Mercy?” Dralghus repeated. “Of this, we have none.” Cries were heard coming from those pleading. “But deliverance, yes, this is ours to grant to those who can survive. Speak, mortals, who among you deserves deliverance?”

Dozens stood, shouting pleas. Dralghus smiled.

“Take him,” Dralghus commanded Heluth, pointing to one soldier in front.

“It will be done, Shatterer,” Heluth obeyed.

Forcibly, the Sentharian soldier was pulled from the masses and pinned to the ground, face down. Dralghus pulled a short blade from the man’s hip and the man began to writhe on the ground, but Heluth and Rykam held him firm. The other eleven Helsyans hovered threateningly over the scores of soldiers remaining, as gods over their lesser creations.

“Fire,” Dralghus said. A small fire was kindled and the Shatterer began to heat the blade.

“Dark Mother, Mother of Helsya, this mortal desires to know thee and be delivered from his damned state. Grant his desires, I pray, with a true name bestowed by the Dark that he may assist in the raising of Helsya.”

Dralghus grabbed the glowing red blade from the flames, and the man screamed as the knife bit into the skin between his shoulder blades.

Aiden lay tangled in stone branches when he awoke, his face burning. The grimace he wore aggravated it further and he let out a small cry of pain as fire lanced through his left side where he had taken the blow from the mace. He had no doubt his ribs were broken, possibly a pierced or collapsed lung as well. He struggled to
open his eyes and clear his vision. He did not know how long he had been out. Above, he saw leaves and branches in a petrified state—the tree top canopy.

“No,” he said weakly and was again punished for trying to move.

“Shh!” he heard someone say. He turned his head toward the sound and saw Rue-anna and Mikahl.

“Don’t try to move,” she said. “Mother says it’s not good to move when you’re hurt.”

“What’s happened?” Aiden whispered.

“The corruption came and we scaled down the trees. Or whatever they are now. They still fly above us just circling.”

“It’s morning!” Mikahl announced in a loud whisper. “Shh!” Rue-anna scolded. “Shut your mouth, Fletch!” “We have to get up,” Aiden said. “It’s not over.”

“For you it is,” Rue-anna said softly but firmly. “Have you seen yourself? You’re hideous.”

“Perfect,” Aiden muttered. “Where is everyone else?”

Mikahl and Rue-anna shared a look. “There aren’t many,” the boy said. “When the trees turned everyone became too confused and scared. The flying monsters, they…”

Mikahl was having a hard time saying what he was obviously replaying in his mind.

“They killed everyone that stayed above the canopy,” Rue-anna finished for her brother.

“What about the ground forces? Lord Kerr and Lord Hoyt?” Aiden asked with much concern.

Mikahl shook his head and Rue-anna shrugged. “I can’t feel anything,” the girl said. Aiden realized he couldn’t either but that was to be expected with the change of the forest. If he listened close enough he could feel the vibrations of tens of thousands of men, but they felt so far away.

“Where are we? Have we drifted?”

Rue-anna nodded. “About two leagues west of Calyn. The battle carried us here.”

“Where is your mother? Where is Seilia?” Aiden asked.

Again the girl shrugged, as if not concerned but she could not hide the worry on her face. “We left our village just after you did.”

Aiden struggled to get up.

“Stop! You need a healer!” Mikahl snapped. Aiden did not listen. With great effort he fought through the pain and found his sword, still sheathed. A breeze came and pulled at his face, flapping the loose skin that had nearly been cut away completely. It stung fiercely but he ignored the pain. His left shoulder had been packed with Triarch leaves in the wound where the arrow had pierced him. He inspected the dressing and then looked at Rue-anna.

“Sorry,” she said. “It was the best I could do. I didn’t mean to hit you.”

“You likely saved my life, little one. I can take the pain if it means I am still alive.”

“What are you doing?” Mikahl asked. “Please, don’t leave us. They’ll see you if you go out there again!”

“We must do what we can, lad. I am still breathing and I’ll do all that I can while that is so.”

“But you’ll die!” Rue-anna exclaimed.

“We all die but not all of us live. I am proud to have this chance to spend my life in defense of my land and people. It is who I am, who we all are.”

Aiden made his way up the cold petrified branches and emerged above the canopy. He did not bother to count the number of Alysaar that still littered the air in the early dawn light. More than a thousand span for sure.

What would he do against so many?
All that I can
, he heard his heart tell him.

Ancients above, do not abandon us
.

He drew his steel with his right hand. His left arm rested against his side, trying not to use it. His crushed ribs and wounded shoulder reminded him of their state with every slight motion. The vision in his left eye was fuzzy, but that did not stop him from finding the largest flying abomination in the sky with a single rider.
The Borathein leader obviously spied him as well. Aiden heard the bark of a sadistic laugh as the Alysaar banked around and positioned itself right above him. The demon dove with an unnatural shriek, penetrating enough to rattle his bones.

Sword in hand, he readied himself and quieted his mind. Though stone was firmer than leaves and branches, he felt himself unsteady on the lifeless canopy. He started to repeat the first axiom when a sound interrupted him. It was a whistle, high pitched like the sound of a crossbow bolt, but louder. Much louder. As it increased in volume Aiden finally discerned something approaching from the northwest. A flare of light, slender and white, streaked through the sky. It looked like the shooting stars he would see as a boy that cut the night sky while he hid in a Furlop tree, dreaming of someday leaving his broken home.

The flare increased in speed and approached directly above where Aiden stood. Just before it was upon him, he thought he made out an image within the light: a svelte figure that looked remarkably like Reign Kerr.

The small comet collided with the Borathein warrior and his Alysaar and cut through them like a javelin through water. An explosion sounded and pieces of the Alysaar and its rider flew in all directions, raining down ichor all around Aiden. He raised his right arm to shield himself against the debris as well as the brightness of the explosion. Other Alysaar began to fall from the sky in scores as smaller explosions dotted the celestial view before him.

“I have lived to see the return of the Ancients.”

Moisture crept into Aiden’s eyes.