Dusk Falling (Book 1) (18 page)

Aral did exactly as he swore he would, destroying any safe havens the trethen kept. By then, he kept the youth much like a dangerous prisoner in the cages down below. There were rarely any other beings in the damp darkness of the dungeon. But once, there was.

It was a Youkai- male or female, the amber-eyed youth did not notice or care. He sat, putting his back to the cage bars and watched it pace. Forward and back, back and forward. Something spoke inside him, a self-degrading voice that asked bitterly why did it pace, there was no escape. “Why… waste energy like that… No point…”

Still, it moved. Sometimes it rattled the cage as if it could break through the metal bars with its hands alone.

“Can’t get out… why continue? Why try?” The youth sat up straighter from his hunched position, pushing away from the cold bars. The Youkai growled and spat in futility. Yet still it paced and tested the cage bars of its confinement. “Foolish demonic… Doesn’t it know?” Though weary, he got to his feet.

Forward and back, back and forward. It howled its rage into the darkness.

The trethen stumbled to the other side of his cage, grabbing the bars with soiled blistered hands. He could not take his eyes away, could not close his ears. All of his being was intrigued, almost entranced by the pacing of this creature that refused to accept its fate. “Stupid Youkai… why does it move like that…?” He spoke softly. His irritation began to grow with each step the other took until he could stand it no longer. Finally the youth shouted, “Why are you pacing like that?!”

In the distance, he heard the Verca guardsmen rouse but he did not care. The Youkai stopped its movement and emitted a low deep growl.

Something within the trethen responded; he knew that growl. The part of him that was Youkai knew what that growl meant and woke something primal that burned with a fierce chaos that refused to be bound any longer.

Chapter 15

“East” Kcrie said, her form’s color wavering as she stood outlined in the early morning sun. Her blue eyes were flinty but her voice was calm, if tired. “They are heading towards an area the locals of the region once called Wizards Roost. It is on the edge of the Regency’s territories and Jade.”

“You are sure of this? Yes, yes of course you are.” Agemeer said, nervousness reflected in his tone.

“Wizards Roost? Never heard of it. Aya?”

“No.” The Bren responded with a shake of her head.

Serrtin munched on a strip of cold dried meat. “So how do we find this place? And what’s there for our ‘friends’?”

“You will see when you get there but if you wish to arrive on the heels of… ‘your friends’ then I suggest you stop stalling. Follow the High Road toward Jade, turning south at the foot of the flattened rock hills known as Liara’s Table.” The Asrai began to take her water form. “‘Ware the spirits that inhabit the lands of the Roost.”

Agemeer gently stoppered the flask and slipped the holding strap over his Wulfen shoulder. “The Asrai are a powerful race, truly told. I had no idea how much her scrying could reveal. And with such an accuracy.”

“Yea, me neither.” Serrtin said, eyeing the pale flask. “I wasn’t aware she could pinpoint where someone is going like that…”

Aya had already mounted up, eager to be on their way- not only for Genlo’s sake but to put some miles between them and the Circuit, who may be signing their own warrant at the same moment of time.

It took the better part of a two days ride before the flattened plateau of Liara’s Table came into view. Though the pace was not leisurely, the team had little to fear except thieves and with the Grasslands being as open as it was, an attack would be seen long before met.

They kept with the High Road as Kcrie suggested despite wanting to keep a low profile. If travelers from Jade were questioned, a Bren and a Yarcka would stand out in their minds. Speed was of the essence, they would have to chance someone remembering their faces.

The occasional questionably-countenanced loner would pass by but they looked as much interested in polite conversation as the team did. Indelsis was known for acceptance and tolerance but also for swift justice for
those who try and take advantage of that hospitality. Thieves and brigands however existed everywhere, even on the safest of Demarian roads.

Serrtin made it perfectly clear to any would-be cutthroats that what the team possessed would not be worth the battle they would fight to take it.

The three arrived in view Liara’s Table not long after the GoldenSphere sunk out of the sky. The Hills were appropriately named. The rock formation seemed to sprout right out of the ground in the uncanniest of shapes- completely flat on top and flat down the sides. It only lacked the way underneath to be a perfectly formed gigantic stone table. Looking up at it one would begin to think that Liara had to have been one tall woman to take this as her table.

While the team set up camp, forgoing a fire so as to not signal their location, Agemeer told the story of Liara’s Table but not of the Wizards Roost which he had never heard of.

Liara had been a simple Larren woman, not a Giantess after all. When Serrtin expressed surprise at that, Agemeer gave an amused wuffling laugh. Her story was one of tragedy and also one of triumph. Liara was a sheep trader by trade and lived in a small village located not too far from the spot in which the team now camped. She’d lived many years before the Red Sword Wars and before the land became known as Indelsis.

The village was in constant threat of invasion from a group of barbarians that had migrated from lower western Demaria. The villagers were not warriors so when the barbarians eventually attacked the weaker populace- intent on pillaging all the goods and valuables- the sheepherder could stand for it no longer. No more were the barbarians thieves in the night or skirmishers after wagon trains, the barbarians came with murder in their eyes.

Liara gathered her terrified people to her and they forged their plans. The villagers were outmatched and outnumbered. Though they fought valiantly for their lands and for their families, the villagers lost. They were sent scurrying to the wilderness.

Liara’s people were without hope but the sheepherder did not lose faith. She believed there was a way to save her small nook in the wilderness. She ran to the shrine her family had tended since she was but a child and there she knelt and prayed. The minutes that went by seemed like an eternity, still Liara prayed on.

Unbeknownst, the barbarians had tracked the young woman to the shrine. There they found her kneeling in a trance-like state in front of a weathered statue, a bowl of dirt, and an assortment of unlit homemade candles sitting on the crude carved-out shelves in the rock.

With bloodthirsty grins on their foul faces, the barbarians strode toward Liara, who still knelt and prayed in silence. The leader raised his foul blade over his head, ready to bring it down hard upon hers.

Then the candles lit. One by one, they blazed to life with a bright red flame. The clay bowl shook as the dirt contained within spiraled out…

“And the Great Spirit Liara’s family had worshipped to protect the fields of crops and the sheep in the hills destroyed the invaders with a breath of wind across the lands. Where the barbarians fell, trees suddenly sprouted. The fields that were razed were given new life. The village was saved and renewed.”

“So this Great Spirit heard Liara’s wish and answered it?” Aya asked.

“It did. But the wish had its price.” Agemeer said, settling back on his paws, tail curled around him. “Liara had promised the Great Spirit her very life in exchange for the safety of her people. And, in the end, the Spirit collected.”

The swirling whirlwind of soil looked at the sheepherder who sat calmly serenely before it. She smiled as a green light enveloped her body. Liara was not afraid, the light was only fulfilling the bargain. The whirlwind dispersed, scattering the soil to the four directions. Liara’s empty body fell softly to the ground and her soul flew free.

Aya and Serrtin sat quietly, blinking.

“That is very… tragic.” Aya said softly. “Sad.”

“I suppose. It depends on how you look at it.” Agemeer replied. “True, Liara was denied the return to her family and friends but she had promised her life in exchange. The Great Spirit was awakened due to her pledge- her wonderful selfless gift. It heard her over its deep sleep. It came to her aid and took only what was promised to it.

“Some versions of the story tell of a somewhat more pleasant ending but this was the most accurate by my account. One other version speaks of the Great Spirit having fallen in love with the simple girl who had tended his shrine for so long and ever after the wind that ran through the treetops rang with their heartfelt laughter. Their joy brought forth healthy lambs and greater yields of crops, children grew up tall and healthy and the weather never bit with the frost of winter.”

Aya shifted her position on the cold ground. “Well, I for one like the other version better.”

“Not everything ends the way we would like, Aya dear.” Agemeer said with a slight shrug. “Though I too am partial to the more pleasant ending to the tale.”

“Why is it called Liara’s Table?” Serrtin asked suddenly, not caring in the least which version was the more palatable.

“Hm? Oh yes. After the village was saved, they searched for the survivors and found the heroines body where she fell near the shrine. There they surmised of the truth and how the young lady had sacrificed herself willingly. The plateau was named for her because of her grand sized sacrifice, her gift was God-sanctioned they thought so she deserved to forever banquet at a table of such a size.”

Serrtin snorted. “That’s silly.” The Yarcka reclined back on a chunk of rock. “Right Aya?”

But the mage was gone, having stood and walked off. She stared up at the plateau, studying its jutting stones, tangled plant life and scrub brush. A bird had made its nest on the side in a niche it had found.

Serrtin and Agemeer exchanged glances. The Wulf padded near her. “Aya dear? Is something the matter?”

“I promised, Agemeer. I promised.” She pleaded into the darkness, curled fists to her chest. “Just like Liara did but I didn’t come through.”

“I-it will be alright. Do not fret.”

“You don’t understand- this whole situation is my fault. I thought my plan was so smart, so foolproof but I was the fool! He didn’t want to but he had to go along with it. I never should have made him…” Aya’s last words were mumbled but Agemeer heard them anyway.

“We will find them, find him.”

The mage turned to regard the old scholar with a strange look on her face. She gave a nod and a half-hearted smile, banishing the odd look. “Then we best get some rest.”

Aya made her way back to her blanket, lying down with automaton movements. She stared up at the night sky, trying to refuse to face that she cared. She knew she cared. Her word was her bond but the ill feeling in the pit of her stomach suggested something more. Was it really just the broken promise that distracted her thoughts?

~ ~ ~

Serrtin woke Aya before the GoldenSphere had risen. The mage had, as she expected, not slept well. As she rolled up her blanket, she wished she had used meditation to clear her mind to let her body rest better.

The Bren turned down the prospect of breakfast so after saddling her horse, the team was ready to continue the search. Agemeer and Serrtin walked in the lead, speaking in low tones while keeping eyes and ears open. Serrtin doubted the Verca would go to too much trouble monitoring the path behind them. They probably knew they would be tailed but they would most likely sacrifice carefulness for speed.

The trio moved parallel to Liara’s Table, using the plateau as partial cover. Like most of the Great Grasslands, the ground was full of low rolling hills. There were thin-trunked vibrantly green trees along the Table that provided some coverage at times. There was not enough to fully conceal their locations so they did not stick solely to the trees if it meant the trio needed to move off their chosen course.

The Table fell behind them and the path before them became rocky. The verdant grass fought for its crevices on the hard uneven ground. Aya’s mount began to labor so the mage took to her feet to help guide the horse over the slippery footing. Aya winced whenever Trinket’s hooves clipped or slid on patches of smooth slate.

The goings did not get any easier so the team split. Agemeer worked in a crisscross pattern as he moved south, Serrtin more straight. Aya trailed with her mount, slower but determined.

Several hours later Agemeer came scrambling back in a scatter of loose stone. “Ahead!” The Wulf exclaimed. “The ground clears ahead and the Verca men are there. They did not post sentries but they are on alert. I did not spy the leader, nor the crystal that contains the encaptured Genlo.”

“What are they up to? Are they waiting for us, knowing we are following?”

“That I do not know.” Agemeer responded, tongue lolling. “I did not wish to remain too long less they in turn spy me. There were no good vantage points but I would speculate something is about to happen. We should make haste.”

“And do what? Launch a full scale attack on them without knowing what they are planning?” Serrtin asked soberly, staring off into the distance.

“Yes.”

Agemeer and Serrtin turned with wide eyes as one to their youngest team member. Aya stood stark still, dark eyes on the ground, jaw firm. The horse’s reins were barely clasped in her slackened hands.

“Yes?” The Yarcka and Wulf said in union.

“Yes.” Aya repeated. She looked up, her eyes hard as flint. “We’ll attack them like they attacked us. This time though we’ll be the ones with the ambush advantage.”

“Aya, be reasonable.”

“Reason has nothing to do with it! Were they being reasonable- are they now? They are kidnappers and murderers- worse than murderers, they are torturers. They must be stopped.” The mage announced passionately.

“I would like to know what they are up to first and where their bastard leader is. If we find him, we’ll know.”

“And the best way to do that is to go through his men.” Aya dropped the reins. Head held high, she strode forward, passing in between her friends.