Dusk Falling (Book 1) (19 page)

They watched her go, still in surprise at the attitude shift in the usual non-confrontational young mage. Serrtin’s mouth split into a grin. “Following your heart, hn? We’ll make a warrior outta you yet! Unknown odds, unknown danger.” She began to follow. “I like it.”

Serrtin slid her flamberge from her back sheath, hefting its great weight and giving it a preparatory swing.

Aya focused her energies, feeling the power course through her. Like the ice spell, she focused her energies into her hands but this was no ice spell; both became encased in a golden-red flame. The fire flickered and licked at her wrists but did not burn her skin. Her flame attack was her strongest attack spell. It was also her hardest to control, having landed them in trouble before in the past. The last mission was evidence of its power and mercurial nature.

But Aya was confident in her spell at that precise moment. She needed it to work, therefore it would have to. She crested a slight hill, no rock cover to either side. Down into the clearing her eyes peered, ready to react and take out the closest movement in a ball of flame.

The wind blew, scattering dust across an empty clearing. No one was there. The only evidence being a smattering of footprints on the ground.

Chapter 16

The leader of the small band was named Jrellin Dinis. He’d worked for his chosen calling for many many years, progressing his way to the top with an impeccable record and though Jrellin was no mage in the traditional sense, he was an accomplished user of Focus magicks. He himself procured and allotted all the Focus spheres his sect used. The capture sphere was his most prized unit.

Jrellin’s brown eyes sought out the crystal sphere. It sat nearby (always nearby) nestled on a discarded cloak. Its prisoner sat quietly, legs sprawled in front of him, face thoughtful. Those thoughts were not pleasant judging by his pinched brows.

It had been a full day since Jrellin and his band had used the Gate that lay hidden within the Wizards Roost. They were now in the province of Mag’har, Western Demaria.

The day had passed with making it to the edge of Mag’har on the east side of Iprandia Lake. The lake they skirted carefully, knowing the body of water was often a subject of war for the connecting provinces and was guarded jealously. Jrellin could not in good mind risk getting too close and winding up in the middle of a territory feud. But at least he no longer needed to worry about a tail from Indelsis.

Taking a flask from his belt, Jrellin took a sip of the bracing fluid. It was a special brew his wife made consisting of Dwarprihn spirits, assorted well-meaning herbs and a dollop of whipped canesugar mixed with cream. The liquid warmed his throat and if his nerves had not been already calm and collected, the brew would have seen to it.

The Larren sat forward and rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. It was not that he harbored negative feelings toward the unfortunate pale-haired boy. Quite the opposite in fact. Jrellin felt a great deal of pity for his fate. “Hey, kid. This’ll make the journey a little easier to bear.”

Jrellin stoppered the flask, spoke a few words in a low tongue and tossed the flask down. With a flash, the container vanished and appeared within the sphere. Genlo caught it.

The youth was suspicious but figured they would not try to poison him after all the trouble they had gone to retrieve him. And whatever was in there certainly couldn’t make his outlook any more bleak. Genlo took a sip. Then another.

That morning, several hours earlier, Serrtin Aya and Agemeer were scouring the area for clues to the whereabouts of the men who had simply disappeared right under their noses. The Wulf checked the surrounding lands, his gray shape a blur that flitted over the rocks and around the trees that sprung up to the south. Serrtin studied the footprints.

Aya’s expertise did not lie in the field of tracking, leaving her feeling left out, unhelpful and distraught. She was no ranger but she was a mage, perhaps she was not as useless as she began to think.

The Bren found a flat rock perch and sat, cross-legged. She locked her fingers together in her lap and taking a cleansing breath, closed her eyes. Aya centered her thoughts and let her awareness wander from her unguarded mind. She could sense Serrtin’s almost palpable irritation at how easy they had been evaded. Agemeer was letting the Wulf do what Wulf’s do best so what she sensed was mostly animalistic. Aya weeded out their presences and continued Looking.

She was not sure what she’d find or even if she would find anything. All mages however had heightened senses when it came to energies and it took only a light touch for Aya to feel it to her left. Deep behind overgrown weeds, there was definitely something there. Something very real.

The girl gained her feet and stepped toward the mysterious power. Pushing aside broken stems, she uncovered a strange stone formation of about the same height as Aya herself. Behind it about ten feet back was an upright slab of weathered stone. Upon closer inspection, Aya found that the stones placement was not natural. It had been carved and placed there on purpose. She ran her hand over it, dusting off debris and bits of rock. It was then she noticed the six small alcoves carved into the slab at exact symmetrical intervals. Getting closer, Aya’s boot nudged something loose.

It was a clay bowl, broken in pieces as if trod on by a boot. Or many boots.

In sudden realization, the mage turned back to the odd formation she had first seen. “Over here!” Aya shouted, drawing her teammates. “Look at this. It’s just like you said Agemeer- here is the statue, the stone wall, the bowl. This is Liara’s family’s shrine!”

“Blessed Empyrean Above, you are right!” The scholar exclaimed. “It is the shrine! Here is where Liara knelt and prayed to the Great Spirit for help. But the bowl, it is broken.”

“Looks like no one will be asking for deliverance again now.” Serrtin interjected, hands on hips. “Someone stepped on it.”

“Stepped on… but why would anyone purposely…” Agemeer groused.

“Ah,” Serrtin mumbled lowly, coming forward to inspect the bowl more closely. “There are more than one pair of boots marking passage here. Look at the broken blades of grass, the scuffed rock.” They did. “The prints all end at the wall.”

“They couldn’t have walked through a solid wall.” Agemeer made sure by passing around to the back of the stone wall.

“Somehow I think this is out of our league. Aya, it’s up to you.” Serrtin said.

The Bren blank her dark eyes and chewed her bottom lip. “While I was meditating on the lands, I was drawn here. There is strong magic here but it’s nothing like I’ve felt before.”

“Yes, I felt something strange too but I dismissed it as the Verca.” Agemeer said. “It must be the power of the Great Spirit who resides here.”

“I am not completely sure. Some of it, maybe.” The mage said, gently touching the nubs of the melted homely candles with her fingertips. “If the Spirit is still connected to the Shrine, it’s very distant. I am not sure we can contact it.”

“Liara did. And she was no mage.”

“True.” Aya said. “But we have no guarantee. And once summoned, then what?”

The Wulf nosed the broken bowl. “Then, my dear, we ask it what happened here. It must know the secrets of its own Shrine.”

Serrtin made a face. “I don’t claim to know anything about magic or spirits but… sounds a little ‘if-y’ to me.”

“How do you mean?”

“Look what happened to Liara when she summoned the Great Spirit. She died. I’d rather not risk it on something I don’t know I can kill.”

Crouching, Aya pulled the ingrown weeds from around the untended shrine, tossing them away. “Liara offered her life for the Spirits help. We won’t do that.”

“And if it doesn’t come?” Serrtin questioned.

“Then we will find other means. I am not willing to give up just yet.” The mage said, taking up the pieces of the broken bowl. “Agemeer, what type of Spirit was it that rested in the shrine?”

“A Spirit of the terra element.”

“That explains the bowl filled with soil. I hope it is okay with the soil around here and that Liara hadn’t used some of the fertile grounds of the farmers in her time.”

~ ~ ~

Aya cleared the area she was now sure was the Wizards Roost of any debris and swept away the accumulated dirt from the stone wall’s crevices with her hands. The candles were lit and placed back on the slab. Using the cloth from her belt, she cleared the bowls resting place. The mage scooped up several handfuls of soil from under the nearest tree and placed it neatly where the bowl had once been. The bowl itself was not salvageable. With everything now in place, the Bren mage knelt before the slab with the decrepit statue at her back. Reverently, she steepled her hands and bowed her head, eyes closed.

Agemeer and Serrtin moved away so as to not break the girls concentration. For over an hour, the two kept vigil but as the day grew long and the sky began to darken, they began to fidget and grow impatient. Agemeer silently slipped away to hunt for a rabbit or two to fill his belly. Serrtin took the mare to find some grass to browse and when she returned she found Aya yet unmoved. The Yarcka sat to resist the temptation to pace and munched on a slice of wayfarers bread.

It was dark when Agemeer returned but the moon above lit the area as well, if not better, than campfire. They fretted the situation- worried that by moving around they unintentionally spooked the Great Spirit or merely by being present kept it from appearing. Kcrie was conspicuously absent, remaining in her flask despite the nightfall. Perhaps the Asrai could sense the goings-on and did not wish to interfere.

Sometime around the mid of night, the wind changed, blowing bits of dust and small stones. Serrtin shielded her eyes and leaned into the zephyr, catching sight that the winds were not affecting the candles or the oblivious mage. The candles were burning blue.

Aya’s back ached but she paid it no mind. Her lower legs were asleep but she did not care. Her mind was focused, refusing to give up. She prayed and pleaded till she thought she would cry.

Then, she heard laughter like the chiming of glass bells.

Through a cloud of raven black bangs, Aya looked up at a woman who gleamed a translucent gold. Her hair was flaxen and held back in a simple loose braid. She wore a ruffled dress, the kind a farmer’s daughter would keep for special occasions. Her smile was open and friendly as she hovered like a humming bird near the stone slab.

“You are… Liara?” Aya asked breathily, unable to attempt to rise.

The woman grinned widely, answering the question. “Resethos, how long do ye plan on keepin’ this young lass a’waitin’?”

Aya could feel a presence at her back. Twisting, she saw a second ghostly form take rise. From the weathered statue a mist was emitted. It rolled snakelike through the air to float beside Liara. Much as Kcrie did, the discorporate form substantiated, gaining color and shape.

Resethos, the Great Terra Spirit, would have been an intimidating creature to have face by oneself but with the gentle specter of Liara so near, she all but negated the fear Aya felt at seeing the Spirit. Resethos possessed a long serpentine body, covered in thick rock-like scales and had a total of eight insect-like legs. The Spirit’s head was topped by a carnelian mane that ran down a third of the length of his back and was of the same hardiness as his scales. His short-muzzled leonine maw looked as if it could not fully close due to the massive fangs held inside.

“It’s been a while since anyone’s visited ‘ere. I thought this place forgotten.” Liara said, a little wistful.

“Liara… It was said you were… that you… died.”

“Mmm, well, I guess I did.” The ghost confessed, with a quaint gesture of her hands. “I gave up m’life to save m’people. It was worth it. Resethos saved them and I decided to stay with him. Before that day, I was the only one who remembered and took care of his shrine so when I was freed, I remained to,” Liara clasped her hands together and closed her eyes, “keep him company, if ye will. A Great Spirit can often be unattached to the world they live in; it’s a lonely affair.”

“I am glad to hear the legend is false in concern with your death, Lady Liara.” Aya said, still sitting on her heels.

Again, the ghost giggled. “Legend? How silly. I’m jes’ a farmer. Oh,
was
.” She said. “And who might ye be?”

Slowly, with prickles of re-circulation in her lower limbs, Aya stood and dusted off her seat. “My name is Aya Mythren. My companions are Serrtin and Agemeer.” The Spirit and the ghosts’ eyes followed the mage’s gesture and took in the two onlookers. Liara waved, friendly. Both of her companions were wide-eyed and very much at a loss for response.

Resethos, who had not uttered a word since the summoning, spoke then. His voice was exactly how Aya had expected it to be- low and rumbling, gravelly. “Why did you summon me here?”

“I am interested in knowin’ that too. There aren’t many who know of this place and it’s quite the chance ye be takin’ by callin’ a Great Spirit, if ye don’t mind ma sayin’. It must be important. I’m not attached to this Shrine like Resethos and even I ‘eard yer prayer. Ye’re a passionate miss.”

“I-I wished to ask a question.”

“A question? Is that all?” Liara said, putting hands to her hips, a teasing pout on her face.

“What is this question?” Resethos asked, impatiently cutting to the matter at hand.

“Several hours ago a troupe of men came by here. They vanished without a trace. It is imperative we find them.”

“Why?”

“They stole…” Aya said, voice dropping in volume suddenly. A sudden shyness stained her cheeks ever so lightly. “They took our friend. We want to stop them from harming him.”

“Aaahhh!” Liara cooed, sitting in midair and crossing her legs as if she occupied a floating chair. She leaned forward on her elbow. “A dear friend? A handsome chivalrous companion?”

Aya gave a small laugh at the thought and shook her mane. “N-no, no. He’s nothing like that. He… just needs our help. That’s all.”

“Really? Hmm. Well ye friend must be pretty important besides that to incite such a sparkle in the eye.”