Rise and Fall (3 page)

Elyse watched the interaction between the High Mages with fascination. Nareash opened his sleeves, revealing the hollow cylinder in his hand. Essan’s reaction was one of confusion, coupled with fright.
But Amcaro seems as if he expected it.
Whatever it was, she understood its importance to Nareash.
I haven’t seen it out of his hand since he first started carrying it, back when the whisperings of my father’s manipulation started.

Elyse focused on Essan who seemed to regain his nerve. She watched the High Mage’s face tighten.
He is ready to attack. One Above, help them please.
She looked back to Amcaro.
He’s looking at me! He must know that I can’t respond.
Elyse’s eyes locked on Amcaro’s for a moment, his eyes flicked to the white object in Nareash’s hand and then a moment later met her eyes once again.
I…I know what you want.
The High Mage’s jaw clenched for a second, nodding his head ever so slightly, the movement so small anyone other than the intended person would miss it.
He knows…that I know. He wants me to help, but I can’t do anything like this…

Essan lashed out at Nareash, the power vibrating through Elyse’s body. But Nareash didn’t even flinch. The wand glowed and the flames hoping to engulf the mage dissipated without any ill effect. Undeterred, Essan attacked again and again, now alternating with Amcaro. From what Elyse could tell, their attempts were little more than a bother to Nareash. With the slightest of gestures, Nareash struck both High Mages at once, knocking them off of their feet. The deranged mage threw his head back and although she was deaf, Elyse knew he was laughing as he approached the fallen men.
Not again. One Above, please don’t leave me so helpless.

Nareash lifted the wand and pointed it at Essan who began to writhe in pain. Amcaro attempted to stop the attack, but a wave of Nareash’s other hand blocked the effort. Amcaro tried once again, but this time Elyse saw that his eyes looked at her and not at Nareash. Elyse’s body tingled, starting in her limbs and then moving to her torso and head. To her surprise, she felt the weight of her body after being unable to do so for weeks. She heard Nareash laugh. Amcaro’s eyes returned to Nareash and Elyse understood what happened.

“Master, I never expected it to be this easy,” said Nareash. “I didn’t even feel your last pathetic attempt to stop me. And to think I once admired you.” He paused. “Master.” He said disgusted. “I have no Master.” The scepter hovered over Amcaro now that Essan’s body lay still.

Elyse’s eyes darted about the space looking for something that she could use to stop the mad man. Her gaze finally rested on the simple desk in the room where a thin knife lay.
I’m to attack a High Mage with a weapon more suited to clean one’s nails. No matter, I’d rather die than live as before.
She reached, her body almost forgetting how to respond.

Elyse crept across the room, moving as fast as she dared. Her body screamed with every step and her heart pounded in her chest as she moved her stiff limbs. She was certain he would hear her clumsy movements, and any second Nareash would turn to her, trapping her once again in an invisible cell, this time not even with sight to keep her company. Amcaro feebly attacked in two consecutive bursts of fire but Nareash brushed them off as if they were no more than dust on his robes.

“You are done,” said Nareash in a solemn tone.

The scepter began to shimmer and the air thinned. Recognizing the urgency, Elyse leaped and sank the thin blade deep into Nareash’s shoulder. The High Mage screamed as the wand flew from his hand, just as Amcaro released a concussive blast of his own, filling the room with blue light. Nareash tumbled backward, sent sprawling across the room and Elyse was thrown into a corner.

After a moment she slowly opened her eyes, realizing as she sat up, groggy, that she was the only person moving. She scurried over to Amcaro who was face down on the floor. She turned him over. “Master Amcaro, please. You must wake up! Master?”

“I’m here, dear,” said Amcaro through shallowed breaths.

“Oh, thank the One Above, you’re alright.”

A thin smile formed on his face as he tried to speak, interrupted by a coughing fit, blood spraying from his mouth. “Hardly. I’m dying.”

“No, you can’t. You saved me. You stopped Nareash. My father’s dead. Everyone is dead. I need you. I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean? You will rule your kingdom.”

“But I can’t. I…”

“You needn’t worry,” said Nareash.

Elyse whipped her head around. On the far side of the room, Nareash staggered to his feet.

“I am more than capable of ruling without you.” He turned his eyes to Amcaro. “And Master, I spoke too hastily of you. Even now you teach me a valuable lesson in acting. Quite convincing. Still, you left yourself in a less than ideal position in doing so.” The High Mage limped across the room, arm hanging at his side.

Watching his crooked path, Elyse realized that he was not walking toward her and Amcaro but instead to a stack of fallen papers. Barely visible underneath laid an ivory scepter.

Elyse dove across the floor an instant before the hobbled mage had time to react. She crawled back as Nareash came forward and slapped the cylinder into Amcaro’s outstretched arm.

Elyse saw Nareash begin to glow as he readied an attack. He screamed. “No!”

A burst of self contained energy shot from the Scepter and struck Nareash. When the energy dissipated, Elyse's mouth dropped open, eyes welling in relief. Nareash, her tormentor, was gone.
Obliterated.

Elyse returned to Amcaro’s side. He gasped for air.

“Rest, Master. You’ll be ok.”

With a worried look and eyes wide, he tried to speak, “He…He…” and another coughing fit seized him, taking control of his body.

“Please, rest. He’s gone, but you’ve weakened yourself further, you need to stay calm.”

Amcaro tried to speak again, this time between breaths, his chest rising with each word. “No…too weak…listen…to me...the Scepter…tell no one…show no one…Nareash…” A sharp intake of breath and then his chest relaxed.

“No. I need you. Please.” Elyse’s words trailed off. She knew her pleas were worthless.
One Above, help me.
She sat on the floor, head in her hands as tears held in for weeks flowed. She wept for everyone, the servants, the guardsmen, the High Mages, Amcaro, and even her father. But most of all she wept for herself. She was alone again.

Chapter 2

Waves crashed against a weathered shore and masked the sounds of Kifzo warriors slipping into the water. Tobin cringed as the cold water lapped against the exposed black skin of his torso. He tensed his muscles, shook off a chill, and breathed in a chest full of the cool night air to still his racing heart. He ignored another shiver as he guided his craft inland behind the warriors preceding him.

The full moon provided enough light for him to make out the lead warrior edging his boat onto land. Their Warleader crouched low and, gesturing, sent scouts off in several directions. Tobin was last out of the water and sand crunched softly beneath his feet as he made his way up shore.

The voyage from Juanoq had gone better than he had anticipated. Only one Kifzo died during the long trip that began weeks ago, a freak accident that ended with a broken neck. Although one man, the loss was great as even the lowliest Kifzo was equal to three ordinary warriors. However, they could not be delayed with a proper burial, for the man had not fallen in combat. Their Warleader chose to push on instead, so the fallen warrior lay rotting where he fell. “We have no time for the dead,” was the only explanation given for the decision. More than Tobin had expected.

“I’m surprised to see you so far behind,
Brother
,” said Kaz, his mocking voice cutting through the night.

Tobin paused and glanced to either side. He saw that the first of the scouts had returned and reported. Coupled with his brother’s raised voice, Tobin concluded there was no immediate threat nearby. “First or last makes no difference to me.” He came up to Kaz.

“I’m glad that you feel so comfortable in the rear,
Brother
.” The word
brother
rolled off Kaz’s tongue as if a foul curse. It was no secret that Kaz hated Tobin. Yet the Warleader was always quick to remind him.

“Where would you have me next, Warleader?” asked Tobin, ignoring the jibe.

“Go to Walor,” Kaz growled, “Stay with him until the last of his scouts have returned. Come back when you have all the details. We move within the hour.”

“Such a short rest?”

“Nubinya’s capture is dependent upon our success. That means for tonight we must push on.” He spat. “Besides, you remember what Uncle Cef taught us about rest?”

Tobin made a face.
How could I forget?
“Aye, rest is for women and the weak.”

Kaz looked down at Tobin’s left ankle. “So, do you need rest?”

You wonder if the ankle bothers me. The ankle you broke ten years ago. Of course it does, but I dare not admit it.
“No. I was only thinking of the others after the long journey.”

“It isn’t your place to think on such things,
Brother
, not unless I tell you to do so,” said Kaz, taking a step forward, closing the distance between them. Tobin could see the hate in his brother’s eyes, their whites a contrast to his black skin.

Tobin never knew when Kaz’s temper would get the best of him nor the reason for it.
No doubt deciding whether or not it would be worth it to kill me. But you still need me, don’t you?

Only inches apart, he could feel the heated breath from Kaz’s flared nostrils.
So much anger and yet I don’t even know why you hate me.

The two men were near matches in size and physical appearance, hardened from years of training under their father’s watchful eyes, pushed to their physical limits by their uncle. At one time a fight between the two would have been too close to call, but now, with a poorly mended ankle, Tobin knew he could not match his brother physically. Certainly not his ruthlessness.

Despite these things, Tobin did not fear Kaz, nor did he fear death. Shame deterred him from engaging his brother. The shame he knew he would bring to their father by dying at his own brother’s hands calmed his temper.
Besides, I put my ambitions aside long ago. I won’t walk down Kaz’s path to have a better life.

Tobin conceded and turned his eyes away. “As you say, Warleader.”

As he walked away, Tobin noticed several of the Kifzo readying their weapons for the work ahead of them. Many regarded him, hate in their eyes, having witnessed what passed between him and Kaz.

Just like Kaz, they tolerate me because they must.

* * *

Tobin found Walor further up shore, atop a sandbank covered in loose gravel, near an outcropping of windswept rocks with edges smoothed away. Walor’s odd stance and short stature singled him out from the others. The Kifzo had a leg propped up on one of the battered rocks and his body leaned forward while he listened intently to a steady stream of reports from returning scouts. Tobin stood off to the side and waited until the last warrior left.

“What’s the word?” asked Tobin.

“Sore from the trip. Thankful to be on land for awhile,” said Walor, dropping his leg down and stretching. “Itching to do something other than wait.” Then with a sharp twist and jerk to the side, there was a pop. “Ah, there it is.” Flashing a grin, he continued, “I’m guessing that isn’t what you wanted to know though, is it?”

Tobin had always enjoyed talking to Walor. A lighthearted man was a rare thing among the Kifzo, and the head scout was one of the few men to engage Tobin in real conversation. “Kaz is looking for a layout of the villages in the area.”

Walor gestured with his head in Kaz’s direction. “I figured as much when I saw the show between you two had ended. It amazes me you put up with so much, even from him.”

Tobin started to respond but thought better of it, choosing to ignore the remark. “The layout?”

Walor let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. Pulling a dagger from his belt, he squatted down, and began to draw in the sand. A crude map took shape. “Based on the reports, we are close to where we wanted to be, only a few miles east of the trail used by those along the coast to bring their catches into Nubinya. If we keep heading east, we should run into small villages every couple of miles before reaching some of the larger settlements. I’m guessing we’ll use one of those villages to draw Nubinya’s forces away from the city.”

“That’s up to Kaz. Is there anything to the west, near the trail?”

“You would think so, but no. From what I can tell, the resources near there aren’t as plentiful. The trail is simply used because the terrain is more favorable for travel even if it is out of their way. It appears the more direct route is a harder journey.”

“And how far is the first village to the east?”

Walor stood up and stretched again. “A little over a mile.”

Tobin nodded. “I’ll let Kaz know.”

* * *

Propped up on his elbows, Tobin lay face down atop a small sand dune. As always, he had taken point after the initial scouting, a role he enjoyed. All Kifzo endured years of training to hone their bodies, but no other warrior boasted senses as heightened as his.

Not even Kaz, and he knows it.

Below, three huts of poor condition sat in a small circle. Their walls of uneven stone looked ready to topple over with the next gust of wind. Dried grass served as their roofs.
Barely enough to keep out the elements.

Behind the three huts, two llamas and a goat slept.
Is this truly a village? It’s almost laughable.

Tobin’s eyes moved to his left, unsurprised to see a makeshift landing near the water’s edge in similar condition to the dwellings. Five small fishing boats floated nearby, tied to the dilapidated structure. To his surprise, the vessels were unspoiled and well cared for.
One would assume this place abandoned if not for the animals and boats. At least they show some pride in their trade.