The Shadow Crescent chapter 1

Taskello Village

When a path was set, there was no time for hesitation. So it was for Champion Deira as she strode from the crystal lit interior of the Radiant Temple into a dim morning shrouded by clouds and damp air. Rested and rejuvenated, she left her doubts, fears, and her lost loved ones behind her. Her path was set for Antolikas and defeating General Torn and his rebels.

The sun was a brighter blotch in the overcast sky, and more clouds on the horizon told of rain to come. A cool breeze shook her shorter hair, a sensation she had not felt for years. She crossed the empty stone courtyard to the stables where Geolin and Allenae were waiting next to two saddled and ready horses a darker shade of brown than the one she rode yesterday. The tall old man and short middle aged woman stood close together talking quietly.

“Yours is a place of honor. We all wish we could accompany the champion on her journey,” Geolin was saying to her. He looked as he did the last time Deira saw him in the study of High Priestess Peilan, but his robe was wrinkled, his white hair unkempt. Bags of skin hung under his eyes on a haggard face, making it look as though he had not slept at all, and his hands were held behind his back in a lecturing pose.

In contrast Allenae’s uniform was neat and her brown hair was tightly pulled back in a braid. She worked the reins of her horse in her hand with nervous repetition as she replied with downcast eyes, “I have never been so honored. I will keep detailed notes of our journey so that generations of future solsters will know exactly what transpired on our quest.”

Geolin nodded as he turned his gaze on Deira. His eyes took in her short hair, but he all he said was, “You look prepared, Champion. Is there anything else you need for your trip?”

Deira shook her head, noticing with approval that she no longer had a long tail to flop around her neck. “I am certain Allenae gathered what we will need. Now is there anything else you can tell me of Talis?”

“Talis?” Allenae asked and her eyes widened. As an archivist she would be familiar with that name.

Geolin hung his head. “After I had time to think on it, I realized you already know most of that sad story, but there is one thing. It is not spoken of often, but since the rebellion the line of the high priestess has almost died out. Of Peilan’s seven children, only her youngest son, Bergan, had a single child, Lalis.”

The implication raced through Deira’s mind. “Talis is the last of the high priestess line, and he is with Surtor, the last of the line of queens. Both families that have existed unbroken since the beginning of humanity.”

Allenae looked from one to another. “What does it mean?”

Deira turned to her. “It means I will heed the last words of High Priestess Peilan and stay away from that man.”

Geolin brushed a strand of hair from his face as he said, “If you can. You said that he has become the protector of the prince. Do you think he will abandon him after all this? It is very likely you will meet again in Antolikas.”

Deira rubbed her chin as she thought and felt a small scar there. “How much do you think Lalis told him?”

“We must assume she told him all,” Geolin replied with a sour tone, “or his father did. This story is too closely knit for coincidence. A child that ran for his life from us has returned as the guardian of Korance’s prince out of the kindness of his heart?” He scoffed. “I believe Talis returned to this mountain for a specific reason, a plot to gain vengeance, and now you tell us that he has some kind of Godsword that the high priestess did not know of. We have heard the reports of Holga and Laers. They spoke of this swordsman with skill far beyond a normal man. He leapt from one barbarian to the next, each strike a killing blow. His feet never stopped moving. You found Prince Surtor, Solster Laeren and others huddled in Lalis’ hut, wounded, but unthreatened. They called him Savek, but we know the truth. I verified these reports with the rest of the surviving Solsters. Many of them reported to seeing the same thing. I do not think it possible that he had this weapon when he was at our gate. He seemed insistent that we allow Surtor and Laeren to enter, and if he had that power, he would have used it. He might have gotten that Sword from Lalis, although we cannot know where she got it. We stalled his plans by keeping him from the temple, but we cannot assume this matter is finished.”

Deira shook her head, trying to recall the battle as she replied, “I cannot say if that is true or not. I focused on eliminating the Horusk first, and then finding Prince Surtor. Do you think after I leave here Talis will come and attack the temple?” Thinking back on the scene at Lalis’ hut, she did recall scattered Horusk bodies and looks of terror on the survivors fleeing from one man as the solsters made their attack. “He still wore the Eirethian Ranger uniform, but he saved the prince and stabbed General Torn in the back at the ambush. If he had that grey Sword at the temple he would have broken in, and if he bore us solsters any ill will he would have attacked us after he finished with the Horusk. He did not seem afraid of the Bright Horizon or hostile towards any solster. He was concerned for his companions, and it seemed to me they had bonded over their journey. I do not know what to think of this man or his Sword.”

Allenae spoke up, concern wrinkling her brow, “If it is a Sword, who made it?”

Deira pondered the question, amazed she had not wondered at it herself. To her all other deities were equally inferior to Antol, but it would help to know what she was dealing with. “The Sword was short and grey. It looked dull. He did not declare it, merely treated it as any other weapon sheathed on his hip.”

Geolin’s voice was grave as he replied, “The maker of this Sword is on a short list of possibilities, but all of them have dire repercussions.” He took a deep breath and swayed slightly on his feet, exhaustion plain on his face. She imagined he had been up all night.

Deira put a hand on his shoulder to steady him and she felt a warm surge of power flow from her to the man, no from the Bright Horizon through her to him. There was no other indication, he seemed to not even know what happened, but he straightened his posture at once. His clothes were just as wrinkled, his white hair still wild, but his eyes were clear.

His voice was stronger as he said, “I cannot command you, Champion, but if you would take some advice: kill Talis if you see him again. I was there, of course, to hear High Priestess Peilan tell you to avoid him, but if the situation is as we believe, avoiding him will only provide opportunity to attack you unaware. Wherever he got it and whoever made it, we must trust in the power of the Bright Horizon. That was why he did not attack you at the battle. He rightfully feared the power of Antol’s Sword.”

Considering his words, Deira felt grim determination as she looked at the lined, bearded face of the old man. Now that he was rejuvenated, she could see the resemblance between him and his daughter. “I will likely see Laeren again in Antolikas as well. Would you like me to give her a message for you?”

She had the privilege of seeing the Scrollkeeper get flustered, but to her disappointment he shook his head. “What I say does not matter to her, or else she never would have brought those Eirethians to our gates. I will gather the most devout solsters and pray for guidance as to Peilan’s replacement. Be well on your journey.” With nothing more, Geolin left them and did not look back as he entered the temple. His stride was easy and smooth.

After watching him go, Allenae turned to her. “I am sorry we will not be here to see the cremation ceremony at sunset.”

Deira took the reins of her horse. “The woman that lead us for so many decades is already gone. What happens to her body now is merely a formality.”

Allenae gave her a concerned look at her callous declaration, but did not comment. Grey clouds rolled in from the surrounding mountains, completely obscuring the sun, and the wind blew chill against them, flapping their long sleeved tunics as they rode from the courtyard. At Allenae’s suggestion they pulled bronze cloaks from their travel packs in anticipation of foul weather. They remained silent as they went through the secret caves and past the lake, crossing the meadow to the Leaf Road. Small patters of rain started to fall as Deira pulled her hood over her short brown hair and once more heard horse hooves on the unique leaf bricks that cut a line through the forest as far as she could see.

Once they were on the road Allenae pulled up alongside her and asked, “How far are we going to travel on the Leaf Road?”

Deira glanced at her, annoyed. “As far as it goes. It will only take a few days to reach the Queen’s Favor Inn.”

Allenae’s face was pale peeking through the dripping rim of her hood. “But we are going past the ambush site.”

Deira nodded and had to admit to herself that it was not something she was looking forward to. Solsters normally burned their dead and scattered the ashes in the mountains to find new life in the unbroken cycle of nature, but the chaos of the days since Surtor’s convoy was attacked prevented anyone from collecting the bodies. In response Deira flicked her reins to urge a little more speed out of her mount as she said, “It will be unpleasant, but we will face it with courage. Do not look directly at any of the bodies. You might see someone you recognize.”

“Like my husband?” Allenae shouted as she matched her speed. “He is out there rotting like some bandit. Even the Horusk for all their savagery bury their victims. What is the temple going to do about it?”

“That is a question for the next high priestess, and since I do not know who it will be, I cannot say for certain.” She let out a long sigh. “It is not easy for me either. I knew every member of that honor guard, heard the screams and cries of pain as the Horusk cut them down, but their souls are with Antol now. Their bodies will be well on their way to decaying into bones. This road is the fastest way, and we must see to the living.”

Allenae fell silent and Deira thought that might be the last of it until she asked in a barely audible voice, “Did you see what happened to him? My Cordice?”

She had been expecting that question, similar to what Laers asked her yesterday about Vardeo. “No. It was a furious fight. I barely survived myself.” Unbidden to her mind came the last moments of the ambush, standing alone with High Protector Udengard, and feeling the elation of victory until she spied General Torn stalking towards them. With a flash of the Shadow Crescent Udengard fell, and with another swipe faster than her eye could follow she joined him, though not in death. As thunder rumbled overhead Deira lifted her face to the rain, gripped the hilt of the Bright Horizon, and sent a silent prayer to the sun god to let her settle the score with the Eirethian champion.

They plodded on, eating dried food in their saddles while the rain lasted until after midday, and as quickly as it began the shower ended, leaving sunlight to stab through scattered clouds. Despite her recent disdain for the road, Deira was glad to not have to ride her horse through the mud. The Leaf Road continued ahead and behind in an identical, seemingly endless beige line, bordered with grass and weeds that ran into the towering edges of Greenleaf Forest on both sides. Ever since a long swath of the forest was cut down to make room for the road, none of the trees had grown back in the cleared space, a mystery the solsters had no answer for. The rest of the day passed in monotonous silence, and Deira admitted to herself she did not like the thought of spying the ambush sight coming over the horizon although she knew they would not reach it before nightfall.

The sun set and the champion and her archivist made camp on the road as it was unlikely they would encounter any other travelers. They let the horses feed on the damp grass nearby while they lay out their bedrolls, and Allenae took out her journal and a small, portable crystal light to record the first details of an uneventful day.

“Are there any personal notes you would like to add to the record?” Allenae asked as she scribbled with her feather tipped pen, periodically dipping it in her inkwell.

Deira thought for a moment, and ran her had absently over the rough surface of the leaf bricks she reclined on. “I would like to add my appreciation for the Leaf Road. It has made travel much easier, and was well worth the effort put forth by Queen Jorene.”

Allenae smiled as she recorded the champion’s words. “I had similar thoughts along the way today. I still wonder whatever happened to the inventor, Tott?”

Deira replied in a low voice, “One of the many secrets Eireth is not sharing. You may rest, Allenae. I will take the first watch.” The archivist nodded and yawned as she put her journal and supplies away, and Deira decided she would let the woman sleep as long as she wanted as she closed her light, letting the stars and moon above illuminate their camp. She was feeling no fatigue herself, something she credited to the Sword since on the way up here with Surtor she could not wait to lay down after a long day in the saddle. She had not meant to think of the prince, but had to admit she still cared for him. She remembered his smile, his laugh, and the look of fascination on his face whenever she let him see her unclothed. Of the many times she had bathed or dressed in the company of male solsters, none of them had ever looked at her the way Surtor did, not even Vardeo. The prince was enamored with her, something she found amusing at the time, but dearly missed now out here on this same lonely road.

Deira put those longings out her mind and turned her gaze over the shadowy recesses of Greenleaf Forest as a large dark figure emerged and lurched towards them. Alarmed at first by the width of it, she sprang to her feet with one hand on the Bright Horizon, and her motion caused the mysterious figure to pause. Drawing the gold Sword, she held it out in her hand as light erupted from the blade, allowing her to see the strange figure was two men, one leaning heavily on the other.

“Approach and do not be afraid,” Deira commanded.

At her words Allenae roused from her blanket, but stayed kneeling, her gaze moving back and forth between the champion and the men. After a moment’s hesitation, the strangers lurched towards them again, and Deira recognized their matching mottled green tunics, the uniform of Koranthian Border Scouts. Much less famous than the Eirethian Rangers, the scouts were mostly used for gathering information around the Zegret Mountains while the solsters took most of the credit for combat actions. Having worked with them before, she knew scouts to be courageous and skilled, but in the bright light of the Sword she saw these two were haggard and suffered some hardship. Their leather boots and dark pants were splattered with mud and clinging leaves, and their posture told of exhaustion. One man seemed healthy, supporting the other with a crusted bandage wrapped around his head. They both had backpacks, quivers stuffed with arrows, and swords sheathed at their hips, but only the healthy man carried a bow in his free hand. The healthy man stared at Deira for a moment, but his gaze was captured by the Bright Horizon, his mouth gaping in awe. The bandaged man’s eyes were closed and his mouth hung open limply with pink drool tracking down his chin. Allenae rushed to her feet and took the arm of the wounded scout, helping to ease him to the ground.

“Are there any others with you?” Deira asked and took a long look around at the deep shadows beyond the light of the Sword.

“No, Champion,” the healthy scout replied, and sat heavily on the ground to catch his breath. He had receding dark hair that matched the stubble on his face and a long crooked nose. He was of average build and looked to be a little taller than her.

Deira sheathed the Bright Horizon and the night seemed darker, the moon and stars pitiful in comparison to the sun god’s Sword.

“I never thought to see it,” the scout said, staring at the sheath.

Deira sat on her bedroll again and Allenae tended to the wounded scout. She peeled back the bandage and winced at what she saw, caught the champion’s eye and shook her head.

“Tell me your story,” Deira commanded.

“My name is Obesk,” the scout replied, “and this is Saniel.” He motioned to the prone man. “We were on patrol near the Troilas River when we saw a man swimming the currents. We watched him for a time, and he finally walked out with a sword like none of us ever saw. It was jeweled and curved, and he looked strange, hairless and pale.”

Deira’s pulse quickened and she stood. “That was General Torn. Can you find this place again?”

“Yes,” Obesk said and stood with her though his motions were slow. “He killed the rest of my squad, and that was after me and Saniel put an arrow each in him.”

“Good. We will follow you. I must find Torn as quickly as possible.” Deira turned and began to collect her equipment.

“Deira, this man cannot travel,” Allenae said and Deira turned to the concerned look on the face of the archivist. “I do not think he will last the night.”

Obesk said, “When that bastard was cutting my squad apart, me and Saniel ran. Those are our orders if we know the fight is lost, to report what happened. We ran a long time until Saniel fell into a ravine and hit his head against a stump. I tied it up as well as I could and helped him until we could make it to the road.” He gave the champion an admiring smile. “We thought we might find some help here.”

“It is the will of Antol that brought you here to this spot, to tell me of Rone’s champion,” Deira said and thought for a moment. She drew the Bright Horizon, although this time it did not light up. “This healed me before. Perhaps it will do the same for this man.” She knelt by Saniel, took his hand and wrapped it around the blade of the golden Sword. She did not know what to expect, but the wounded man murmured and shook his head before releasing the blade and pushing it away. His condition was unchanged.

“What does it mean?” Allenae asked.

“Only one thing,” Deira said and turned a suspicious gaze on Obesk. “This man is not loyal to Antol.”

“What?” Obesk looked genuinely confused. “Saniel has been in my squad for years.”

Deira levelled the Bright Horizon at the scout, and the man threw his hands up with wide eyes. “Our enemies have always stood at our elbow, ready to thrust a knife through our ribs,” Deira told him.

“I am loyal, Champion,” Obesk proclaimed and lowered his hands.

“Save your words,” Deira replied. “The Bright Horizon will tell me. Grasp the blade.”

With only a moment’s hesitation Obesk took hold of the blade with both hands and the Sword began to shine bright as before. In the golden glow the man’s face became peaceful, and tears trickled down his cheeks as he said, “I am loyal to Antol and Korance.”

Deira pulled the Sword to the side, stepped towards the man and embraced him with her free arm. He returned the hug and then she stepped back, keeping a hand on his shoulder. She looked in the man’s eyes and saw truth and determination. The Bright Horizon did not put anything in his mind, it only affirmed and reinforced what was already there. She told him softly, “Lead me to the enemy of Korance, and I will destroy him.”

“Saniel has stopped breathing,” Allenae reported, still crouched by the prone man.

“Should we bury him?” Obesk asked.

Deira shook her head. “There is no time. Drag him into the forest and we will leave him to the trees.”

They dumped the body on the opposite side of where the men emerged ten feet within the tree line of Greenleaf Forest. Deira was ready to immediately set out in pursuit of Torn, but Allenae gently reminded her that she and Obesk needed rest. The scout laid his blankets next to theirs and Deira told them both to sleep while she guarded the camp. The night passed peacefully with Allenae snoring softly, and Obesk lying as still and silent as a stone. Bugs and night creatures called out to each other in the forest, and Deira listened to the familiar sounds she had heard so many times travelling the Leaf Road. Every hour seemed to pass slower than the last and the champion wondered where her rival was, if he was slipping ever farther from her reach, maybe even crossing the Velsium River back into Eireth while she waited on her companions. She tightly gripped the handle of the Bright Horizon and summoned her patience. She reminded herself that Torn was only on his own two feet, and could be hopelessly lost in the immense forest. The sky began to brighten in anticipation of the sunrise, and Deira roused her archivist and her guide. They ate a quick breakfast of dry rations and water and began the most important search in Deira’s life.

Obesk led the way with Deira and Allenae following each leading their horses. Away from the paved road the path became rough and uneven, rising with hills or dipping suddenly into deep ravines and gullies, and the thick canopy allowed meager amounts of Antol’s blessed light to reach them. Obesk’s experience with the area soon proved an asset as he wove a twisting path to find hidden trails that made traversing the obstacles easier.

After travelling half a day with little rest, Deira stared down from a small ridge at the Troilas River as it wound its way around a long bend. It was an idyllic scene with the dark running water, and trees growing right to the edge of the opposite ridge riddled with roots. With the clearing through the forest that the river made the Zegret Mountains were clearly visible again with clouds obscuring the tops of the towering peaks. Through gaps in the cloud cover the sun was a welcome sight after trudging through the shrouded forest, but still the champion had only one thing on her mind.

“Is this where you saw Torn?” she asked.

The rain yesterday left a damp chill in the air, and Obesk was crouched in a patch of sunlight, his face held up to the warmth. Blinking, he turned his eyes to the river and pointed downstream. “No, it was farther that way. This was the fastest path to the Troilas.”

She was about to tell him to find Torn’s tracks and continue the search when something in the water caught her eye. There were sticks and logs cluttered along the shore of the river, and for a moment she thought it might be that. In a patch of sunlight the current rolled it over, and she saw a white foot attached to what must be a pant leg. It was a human body floating towards them.

Without hesitation, she threw the reins of her horse to Allenae standing behind her and leapt down the ridge onto the sandy river shore. She sunk into the soggy bottom up to her knees and after struggling for a moment, pulled her feet out of her boots to swim out into the water. The curve of the river sent the corpse towards her, and she saw it was smaller than her, an adolescent or small adult male, still clothed in long dark shirt and pants. Submerged up to her chest, she snagged it by the arm and dragged it back to shore. A splashing behind her alerted her to Obesk who helped her bring the body in and turn it over to see.

“He was young,” Obesk declared, staring down at the pale, limp face. He pointed to a clean slash across the throat. “This was no accident.”

“This must be evidence of Torn’s path,” Deira said in disgust. “I would have thought him to make for Eireth right away.”

“He could be lost,” Obesk offered.

“Then we should find him and put an end to his murdering.”

They dragged the corpse the rest of the way on shore and Deira turned back to find her boots. She splashed about in the flowing water, but the soft bottom had swallowed them.

“He has not been in the water long,” Obesk told her as she stepped with her bare feet back onto shore, grabbing roots to help pull her way up. “It probably happened today.”

“Where could it have come from?” Deira asked as she pulled her dingy solster tunic over her head to wring out the water. She looked down at her soaked undershirt and pants clinging to her body with bare, muddy feet, and chuckled ruefully at the contrast of the Bright Horizon still buckled around her waist. She idly wondered how many other champions went swimming in a river to pull out a corpse.

Obesk stood from his scrutiny of the body and pointed upstream with his chin. “Taskello village. It is the only settlement on this river.”

Deira looked to Allenae, still on the ridge with the horses, and the archivist said, “I have never heard of this village.”

Obesk turned a confused look between the two women. “It has been there for a while. Saniel, the scout we . . . that was with me, he is from there.”

Deira shook her head before pulling her tunic back on and tucking it through her belt. The solsters had become too busy fending off the Horusk to see to their other duties, and normally they would have never allowed a settlement so close to the Radiant Temple. She and Obesk dragged the young man’s body up to the ridge and laid it under the trees. As with Saniel they took no time to bury the unknown corpse and Deira even waved off Allenae’s attempt to provide her with a fresh uniform. The champion commanded that Obesk take them to Taskello at once, and although a frigid breeze swept over them and sent the branches of the greenleaf trees shaking, she refused to shiver. While Obesk led them away from the winding river to take them in a straight line to Taskello, the champion imagined the look on Torn’s face when he would see her, and how it would feel to vanquish him.

The sun was setting, making the forest darker and colder as Deira had her first look at the village on the opposite bank of the Troilas River. The settlement was small with only a dozen two story windowless buildings, but all of it was new, sturdy construction. Deira had expected a hovel with a few people scratching out a living in the forest, but the dwellings of Taskello had thick beams with straight edges coupled with smaller, finely cut planks. The roofs were covered with shingles made from layered green leaves instead of tiles, a method popular in Eirethian villages. The largest building closest to the river had a water wheel slowly spinning in the current, and beyond that, spanning the Troilas, was a long curved wood bridge with thick support columns reaching down into the water. At the edge of her hearing she could detect a low roar that she knew must come from the Troilas waterfall that fed the river.

“How could they have built this without us knowing?” Allenae asked, staring with wide eyes.

“That is something we will have to ask them,” Deira replied and continued on, heading for the bridge. After mounting her horse, followed by Allenae, she set a trot to the foot of the span. She saw little evidence of traffic on this side of the river, and looking at the village again she saw the trees grew close to the buildings so that the long branches hung over the roofs.

Allenae asked the question in her own mind, “Where did they get the wood to build this place? I do not see any cleared areas.”

Obesk answered, “They must have brought it with them. Most of that wood is pine or oak, not greenleaf. The trees must provide an effective cover for the place.”

The scout’s statement confirmed Deira’s suspicions, and she took a plan for subterfuge as a bad sign. Whoever lived here did not want the attention of the solsters and most likely that meant they were doing something outside of the law. Although well maintained, Taskello looked deserted with the straight streets covered in crushed rock and empty of human or animal. Deira kept her hands on the reins and off the handle of the Bright Horizon as she crossed the bridge. She did not want to alarm any of the villagers, but stayed alert, checking everywhere for enemies. A mistake against Torn could be her last.

Deira dismounted and dropped her reins, peering over the strange village with only one main street but alleys wide enough between the buildings to ride a wagon through. There was nothing to tie the horses to, but these were trained temple mounts and would stay close to where they were left. With Allenae and Obesk following she walked across the threshold of Taskello, feeling the rocks sharp and rough against her calloused feet, and now she kept her hand close to the Sword. She expected someone to come out and greet them by now, but still the streets were empty, the doors of the buildings closed. With no windows, she had no way of knowing if this place was actually inhabited. Between two of the buildings on the far side she saw a wide dirt path disappearing into the greenleaf trees with a line of mules with empty packsaddles and a pair of saddled horses tied to a set of posts. Deira decided to go to the closest building and knock on the door with her knuckles, but the rap received no answer.

“Do you hear that?” Obesk asked, cocking his head.

Deira listened and barely audible over the sound of the river and forest an odd thumping sound was coming from the opposite end of the village. She led the way to investigate and found the noise coming from a long one story building set against a small outcropping of stone out of view until now. This building had broad double doors and the thumping noise was more discernible here, felt in the bones as much as the ears. Declining to knock, she opened the door instead and found the entire building was one large room brightly lit with crystals set on stands. The back wall of the room was rock with the building built around it, and at the center of the wall was an opening as wide as she was tall. To her left were piles of rocks, nothing larger than the palm of her hand and showing tool marks on the ragged edges. To the right were more rocks, some as large as her head, with ten women going over them closely with hand held crystal lights in tubes with caps, sorting them into several piles. A man with dark curly hair and beard and tan skin was standing next to the hole staring down into the dark depths, where the thumping noise was coming from, but with a start he turned and looked at Deira with wide eyes. He was wearing long sleeved coveralls with pockets on the front that were empty. The sorting women also wore coveralls, but tools poked out of their pockets.

“No wonder they kept this place from us,” Deira said over her shoulder to her companions. “This is a mining village.” Although her tunic was dingy from her swim the gold sun was still easily visible and she could see recognition in the eyes of the man and the sorting women, who goggled and seemed to shrink back at the same time. Obesk stepped up beside her and she said to him softly, “Keep watch outside.” Without comment he obeyed and she silently praised Antol for sending her a companion that knew how to take orders.

The curly haired man continued to stare at her, not knowing what to do. Behind him the rhythmic thumping sound continued to emanate from the hole.

“What is that sound?” Deira asked.

He glanced behind him to the mine and said back to her with a sheepish grin, “Rock breaker.” He had an odd accent, and she knew he was not from Korance.

“Shut it off and tell whoever is down there to come up,” she told him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he took out a whistle and blew three sharp notes. Another few seconds of thumping sounded before whatever a ‘rock breaker’ was ceased, followed by a commotion before several men came striding out of the shaft. They also wore the work coveralls, but they were coated in dust that fell from them in small clouds with every move. Each had a cloth tied over their mouth and nose.

The largest man pulled down his dust cloth, revealing skin as dark as a Coaman and blurted to the one by the opening, “What now?”

Still hesitant, the whistleblower motioned to Deira with Allenae watching from behind.

The taller man turned and looked both women up and down with a contemptuous sneer, but he focused on the champion. “What did you do? Lose your boots swimming in the river?” The workers behind him crowded in and poked their heads around the two bodies to see. The small crowd of female workers were frozen by their rocks, watching with the silence of the dominated.

“Look at her Sword,” the curly haired man said and pointed.

The large man glared and jabbed a finger at it. “That’s not real!”

Deira decided that was an excellent time to let these men know what they faced. She drew the Bright Horizon and pointed it at them, light pouring from the blade. As she anticipated all of the workers, male and female, recoiled and cowered in fear. There were no faithful of Antol here.

“Who commands here?” Deira asked. None of these workers had the air of authority.

Trying to shield his eyes from the light of the Sword with his hand, the large man said, “Ka . . . he’s not here. He’s in a building down the street.” All the aggression had left his voice, but he was about to name someone before he changed his mind. That told her something of this leader that this man was afraid to name him.

The light of the Bright Horizon dimmed to a soft glow, allowing the miners to look at her, but she did not sheathe the Sword. “Show me,” Deira ordered. “The rest of you stay here.”

Back outside she found Obesk alert and watching over the still empty street. With the subdued miner in the lead they walked back towards the front of the village. Overhead the sun was obscured by clouds, and a flock of ducks was flying south in a v formation. Their reluctant guide glanced over his shoulder at Deira while Allenae and Obesk followed silently, but he led them in a straight line to one of the two story buildings they passed before. Without knocking he opened the door and inside was a large single room with sacks of ore covering the floor. A staircase at the far side of the room waited at the end of a clear path through the sacks, and with a look Deira directed Allenae and Obesk to stay outside. The glow of the Bright Horizon dimmed completely, restoring the blade to its gold color. The heavy steps of her guide groaned loudly on the wood stairs, while her bare feet made little noise. At the top of the steps was a door and here the man knocked. With another glance at Deira he started to open the door. Deira heard an odd noise, like something striking the other side of the wood and breaking. She ducked as the door exploded, blasting fire through the open gap. Her guide took the brunt of the blast, but she felt the heat on her back as the charred smell swept over her. She pushed forward, using the limp body of the miner for cover as she surged into the room.

Leaping over the burned man, she saw two things immediately. Inside the room was a large round bed with thick cushions and at the end of it was an old man with a white beard hanging down his chest, his lips twisted in a snarl. He was shirtless and wore only a pair of plain cotton pants, leaving his scrawny arms contrasting with his protruding gut. He had a brown leather satchel in one hand and with the other he was throwing something at her, a sphere of dark glass. With the Bright Horizon she slapped it out of the air. The sphere burst on the floor and a vivid purple liquid splattered over the planks, leaving smoking trails as it scorched the wood. She hopped over the vile pool easily and within a couple of steps she held the Sword up to his face.

His dark eyes goggled at the gold weapon, and his look of contempt was replaced with terror. “That can’t be what I think it is,” he blurted.

“Drop the bag and sit down. Your spells will not help you now,” Deira commanded. The bearded man obeyed, letting the satchel slip to the floor, and then sat on the bed. Deira noticed another in the room with them, peeking out from under rumpled blankets. The champion motioned up with the Sword and a naked young woman sat up in the bed. Her brown hair was as tousled as the blankets, and she had a plain face but ample bosom. Around her neck was a silver collar attached to a thin chain bolted to the wall, allowing her enough space to make it to a chamber pot in the closest corner.

On the other side of the room from the bed were four tall chests with multiple drawers as long as her arm, two of five and two of four. They were as well made as the rest of the town and various objects were scattered over the top. Light was provided in the windowless room from the opposite corner by a crystal on a stand similar to the ones in the mine.

She quickly turned her gaze back to the old man when she heard Obesk scream from downstairs, “Champion!” His tone was clearly alarmed.

“Unchain her and then both of you stay here,” she ordered as she turned to see what her scout wanted. She hopped over the burned man, who she now noticed was dead, and skipped down the stairs with quick feet. Obesk held the door closed as though bracing it, but she could not hear anyone trying to break in.

The scout faced her with narrowed eyes and barely controlled rage. “The rest of the miners attacked us. Solster Allenae tried to talk to them, but they shot her down. They have bows!”

“Open it,” Deira told him and as she neared he swung it wide for her. The champion stormed out into the street and a line of miners with bows ready released as soon as they saw her. Between her and the assailants Allenae lay on her back, two arrows sticking from her torso with one from her throat. Blood was still spreading across the dirt, and the scribe lay still with her eyes partially open and unblinking. Deira marveled at the Sword of Antol for she did not even think and the blade moved, slicing four arrows out of the air, and she turned aside to let two more zip by.

The miners barely had time to register surprise before she charged them. Only some of the miners held bows, four women and two men, but the other held swords, axes, and even one spear. The curly haired man from the mine was in the back of the crowd, pointing, directing the offense. Veteran warriors would have been outmatched by the Bright Horizon, but these were far from that, staring in helpless shock at her charge. When she saw them in the mine she had been prepared to take them prisoner, but the life of her companion would cost them theirs. She cut through the pitiful defenses of three of the melee wielders when the others broke and ran. The champion did not bother to say it, but fleeing was no longer an option. With quick steps she pursued and cut them all down. The blood ran free from the blade, dripping into widening pools on the packed dirt.

Returning to Allenae’s body, Deira knelt down to examine her, daring to hope, but the woman was indeed dead. She carried no weapon but her belt knife still in its sheath. Obesk stepped out from the building, glancing from her to several arrows sticking from the wood walls. Those must have been intended for him.

“They came out of the mine and went into the building across the street. When they came out they were ready to fight, but Allenae told me she could talk to them, tell them not to resist. I am sorry I could not save her,” he lamented. “I . . . tried to warn her.”

“I am glad you were not killed too,” Deira said. She counted no blame to Obesk, and thought the miners were sufficiently subdued with her earlier display. It was another reminder that every mistake could be deadly. Grief and guilt begin to swell in her, but she restrained it. This place could still hold dangers and even with the Bright Horizon she was not invulnerable. “We still have a prisoner, upstairs.”

“Is that him?” Obesk pointed and Deira turned.

The old man was running across the road behind them, skipping around corpses and past the mules to the horses on the far side of the village. He had put on a green coat and a small conical hat with the satchel hanging from his shoulder. With noticeable skill he leapt onto the back of one the horses and whipped it into a gallop down the path through the forest away from the river.

“That looked like him, but I did not see any other way out of that room,” Deira said.

Obesk glanced back at the building. “Must have a secret back door. Are we going after him?”

“Let the rat run,” Deira replied in contempt. “I am came here looking for Torn, not some illegal miner. It seems unlikely now that the general came this way, but we must still search the rest of this village for clues.” She looked back at her fallen companion and added in a whisper, “Besides I am not leaving her here like this. Not her.” Gently she put her fingers to Allenae’s open eyes and closed them before turning her attention to her pouch to retrieve her journal of the trip so far. It was the last command of High Priestess Peilan to keep a record of her journey as champion. That work must continue. She knew how to write, and she could add entries herself. She stood and said, “There is a slave upstairs. It is possible she knows something useful.”

Obesk looked around the body strewn street. “I will come with you this time.”

Back at the top of the stairs the blasted door was still open with the dead man’s body in the same spot. The purple liquid was black and no longer smoked. Hearing nothing from the room Deira feared the worst, confirmed a moment later when she stepped over the scorched corpse and saw the young woman still on the bed with her throat cut, her chain in place. One of her slim hands was smeared with blood and on the wall behind her was written in gory words, ‘Kazrith’. The blood written letters were already dark and congealed.

“What does it mean” Obesk asked standing behind her.

“She has revealed the name of her murderer,” Deira answered. She looked behind her and saw one of the chest of drawers pulled back from the wall. Beyond was a dark passage that led down on narrow stairs. The Bright Horizon began to glow again, providing her with ample light. Down the secret stairway was a passage that must cross along the back wall of the adjacent building. After almost sixty paces the panel at the end of the tunnel slid open, showing the outside. Seeing nothing else of interest, they returned to the upstairs room and searched through the chests. The items they found were an assortment of average clothes, scattered coins, some from Korance and Eireth along with others she did not recognize, and another set of the silver chain and collar. She pocketed the coins not for their value, but as clues to where these people might have come from.

From one of the bottom drawers Obesk held up a black satin robe with a silver symbol on the chest of a hand gripping an open eye with a vibrant green pupil.

“This is expensive material,” the scout said.

“The symbol is of the order of Myrkur, the secret god. If I had known this Kazrith was a finder of secrets I would have killed him on the spot.”

Obesk looked from her to the black robe and dropped it back in the still open drawer. “I am not familiar with them.”

“The followers of Myrkur come from all lands and peoples. They have no home or temples. They roam the world hunting for hidden things that they believe their god put there to find. In their quest they hold nothing back. They will steal and murder, desecrate any place or person to find what they crave.” Her gaze drifted back to the murdered young woman. “Above all else they value information. They do not just find secrets; they keep them jealously.”

“So what was all this about? They had to know they were risking death by stealing from Korance like this.” The scout turned a disgusted glance around the wrecked, blood spattered room.

Champion Deira sheathed the Bright Horizon and led the way from the room, confident they had found all it offered. On the steps she answered his question, “We do not have time to discover their full intent, but greed and lust will make weak people reckless.” In the first floor room she turned her gaze over the sacks of ore. “When we reach Antolikas I will send a message to the Radiant Temple to investigate this place.” They went out through the still open door into the street. “Search the buildings on the other side and be careful but quick. If you find any evidence of Champion Torn being here, bring it to me at once.”

The champion and scout separated, going through the buildings but finding only general personal items of the occupants along with stored tools and weapons. There was nothing specific other than the black robe to connect Taskello to a group or place. More importantly there was no evidence that General Torn had ever been here.

Deira could not deny her anger and frustration as she looked down upon Allenae’s corpse in the street once more. The solster had lost her life here and they had wasted valuable time only to shut down an illegal mine. Full night had set in and she looked up into the dark sky. Through a gap in the clouds she saw the moon hanging over the trees and her face twisted in a scowl as though she could hear the mocking laughter of Torn’s god. This distraction had assured the rival champion’s escape, and the choice was hers the entire way.

“Where do you want to bury her, Champion?” Obesk asked softly, seeming to sense her inner turmoil.

“Leave her right here,” Deira commanded and turned to the nearest building, the one with the sacks of ore. She drew the Bright Horizon and the blade flared to light in defiance of the night sky. Deira leapt at the wood structure and swung, cutting through the thick beams as easily as the flesh of the miners. Again and again she brought the Sword against the building, splintering planks and destroying the supports. The wood began to groan loudly and the champion stepped back, tears streaming from her eyes and puffing in exhaustion. After a loud snap the building collapsed, falling over Allenae’s corpse, covering her in a shower of wood and leaves.

Deira could hear the braying of the mules and she ordered Obesk to untie them and pull off their packs. He left to obey and Deira sheathed the Sword before falling to her knees in front of the funeral pyre.

“Allenae . . . “ she began, her voice hoarse, “you were a worthy companion and loyal solster. I know you are with Antol and Cordice now and that is good, but my own loss brings me grief. Your name will be spoken of in the tales of the Bright Horizon and the Radiant Temple will know you fell here. I will miss you.”

She rose and took her flint and tinder to light the fire. Something touched her shoulder and she turned and saw it was Obesk holding the robe of Myrkur.

“I found it on the other side of the pyre,” he told her. “It must have fallen out when the building collapsed. I think it will do well to start the fire with.”

With a grateful smile Deira took the robe and stuffed it in a crevasse of the wood. It did not take long for the material to ignite and the fire began to spread over the dry planks. Silently they turned to recover their horses and prepared to leave the village.

They found their mounts close to where they left them. Obesk held a finger in the air and pulled his pack from his shoulder. Once open he reached inside and pulled out a plain pair of leather boots. “I found these for you.”

Deira looked down at her feet, coated in dirt and dried blood. “I do not need them. Every time I see my bare feet it will remind me of Taskello and Allenae and what happened when I took my eyes from my quest.”

The scout shrugged and tucked them away again before slinging his pack back over his shoulder. With a downward glance he remarked, “A morbid reminder, but they are your feet. They do not seem any worse for all the running anyway.” They walked along in silence for a few more steps before he added, “It is a dangerous path we follow. Allenae knew that.”

With a smile Deira added, “There is another reason. I want to see the look on Matron Boetha’s face when I walk into her throne room with dirty feet. That is something people will remember, and a reminder to her.” She let the smile fade. “Antol does not just look on favor for the ones with thrones and gold and fine clothes. There are those of us that must get our hands dirty, and others will be lost along the way.”

Obesk blurted in, “I do not know this matron, but if she is loyal to the sun god then she has just as much blood on her hands. We all do. We share in the glory and the pain.” He took a slight pause before he finished. “What I am trying to say is that I am willing to die too to aid you in your quest.”

Overwhelmed with emotion from her journey, not only Allenae’s death, but the impact of the Leaf Road ambush, lost images flashed through her mind. The sight of High Protector Udengard’s head flying from his shoulders, and what it felt like to look at Vardeo with his neck torn open. He was slumped ignobly on the ground, his sword a finger length away from his hand in the churned dirt. The first time she saw him his red hair was chopped down to a fine buzz, as was hers. They faced each other in a sparring wrestling ring, the top two candidates from each of the now merging male and female classes over two decades ago. He won and the rivalry between them was born that spanned their entire lives since, at least until he married her sister, Daineen. Her recollections shifted again and Surtor was staring at Vardeo in his death pose and sobbing. Deira’s heart broke for the prince again as it had before. Yet they survived that terrible day by Antol’s will, and the tears that gathered at the edges of her eyes dried up.

She looked down and grasped the handle of the Bright Horizon. “I have only ever won at one thing in my life, but my one thing was very big. I am glad you are here, Obesk. Now take me by the quickest way to Antolikas.”

By Aaron Ward

Published by Aaron Ward

Copyright 2025 Aaron Ward

Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.