Dusk Falling (Book 1) (41 page)

The Unnamed Guardian neither affirmed nor denied the statement. “Until the time of judgment, I suggest that you rest and eat your fill. You are safe here.”

Genlo’s misgivings about Elves aside, they took the Guardian’s advice. In peace they slept soundly or dozed by the warm fire if they did not feel yet at ease. True to his word, every comfort they could want, the Unnamed Guardian provided. Their injuries healed without thought or touch, leaving them feeling refreshed. Agemeer kept up a constant barrage of questions that their nameless benefactor calmly and succinctly answered. When it was time to leave, they stood as a group before the door and the Unnamed Guardian bid them a safe and successful journey. The door was pulled open and they stepped through the threshold.

~ ~ ~

The mist was thick, obscuring their vision. It was neither cold nor clammy, parting like breath over their skin. Slowly each of them continued on, unawares they were now separated and walking alone.

~ ~ ~

“Damn mist. Can’t see a thing. What the hell
is
this anyway?” Serrtin waved her taloned hand as if she could dismiss the white fog with the gesture. “Hey, what’s that up ahead? Aya, can you-”

Before she could begin to worry for where her companions were at a wind blew and cleared a path. A battle raged. Everywhere soldier and monster clashed. Screams of triumph and of loss filled the air as did the sounds of swords and cudgels. The soldiers wore banners the saurian could not place but they appeared to be both Larren and Elven underneath their plumed helmets. Running amidst the chaos were goblins with small wicked knives, Nrithe
sorcerers and Tralsk. A bright flash caught Serrtin’s eye and she laid eyes on her Bren partner. Aya was hard pressed on two sides, using the shadow sword spell she had said she learned from her elder brother.

“Aya… Agemeer…” The Yarcka saw the flit of gray that was the Wulf darting between figures. Then she saw SkyRift in his Elven form fall clutching his stomach from a bolt fired from a crossbow. “Sky…” Serrtin pushed her limbs into action, stumbling hard to her knees as if her feet protested her decision to move. Cursing, it took two tries before she could get her legs to hold her weight. Her hand reached over her shoulder for her flamberge, barely able to drag it from its sheath. The sword’s weight was ungainly, like she had never once lifted it in battle. The point fell to the ground and gouged deep, jolting her off her feet again. She found herself gasping on her knees, uncomprehending, undeniably distraught. In the distance, Serrtin could see Genlo. He was covered in blood, most of it not his own. For some reason he was not using his magic and was fighting using only his dark claws. For some reason he was losing, inch by inch. Agemeer howled in pain from somewhere in the chaos away from Serrtin’s watching eyes.

Serrtin knew fear then; it wound its way around her heart and throat, tore at her and pulled her down. She pleaded with her body to get up, to move, to help her friends, but it would not obey. Her hands shook with unfamiliar weakness. Helpless, her eyes teared and her shoulders shook.

“Th-this isn’t real…” She mumbled numbly, shaking her head. “It can’t be real. I am a warrior. Why do I fear? What is stopping me? This is not happening…”

A figure came to stand beside her. “Yarcka do not fear.”

For some reason, Serrtin was not surprised to see the scarred figure of her uncle. He was a towering Yarcka, nearly two feet taller than Serrtin herself. “But I do. I have fear. I-I don’t want to admit it but I do.”

“Yarcka do not hold fear of anyone or anything. You must not be one of us if you feel such a weakness.”

Serrtin stared down at her hands. They did not look like her hands. These hands shook. “Then what else am I?”

Her uncle glared down at her. “Worthless.”

Then he was gone, replaced by a childhood friend. “You were not always weak. You were once a warrior the Yarcka race could be proud of. Befriending and traveling with these ‘humans’ has turned you into a disgrace.”

“Gilt…” Serrtin whispered her friends name, having left him in the past a long time ago.

“Yarcka should never display weakness. Especially over a bunch of useless humans.”

“They are not useless.” Serrtin responded with sudden conviction. Feeling some of her strength flood back into her legs, she stood shakily. “They are my friends.”

Gilt made a rude noise, eyes going back to the battle. “Insignificant trash. They need protection. They can’t stand on their own. What do you see in them?”

“I see what a true friend sees. I see their faults, their imperfections and downfalls. But I also see their strengths, their hopes and dreams. I know what road they wish to follow, which they wish to forge.” Serrtin hefted her sword onto her shoulder. “And in them, I see me. They accept all my faults and they do not judge me wrong. They are my friends. And I believe in them. They do not need my protection- they need me to stand beside them and walk with them. You don’t see their worth therefore you could never see mine because my worth lies with them.”

“They will die without you standing in front of them, shielding them.” Gilt responded, voice sounding less strong, less confident.

“No. That’s not it, Gilt. With me or without me, they are capable. I wish to be with them, and true I do wish to protect them but I know now they do not need me to be their shield. I need to be their friend.”

The Bren mage defeated the Tralsk that threatened to overwhelm her, the goblins began to flee. Genlo stood at her side, working in concert. SkyRift was there as well, the wound inflicted gone from his body. Agemeer snarled at his feet.

And Serrtin smiled to herself as she took them in. Her friends were strong. Perhaps strong enough to the point where it was her who needed them. Gilt began to fade beside her. “Perhaps I am not what is expected of me but I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

~ ~ ~

Agemeer floated. He was no longer in his body but it did not worry him. He was a silent spectator to his own death. The cabin that was once his home burned below him. He saw his once-body stumble from the door and fall heaving onto the grass. The fire lit his body in crimson reflection. It had been a miracle in itself that he had managed to escape the cabin as it came down around his ears in flame.

The brigand was still there, looming as he watched his handiwork from a safe distance with a smug look upon his face. Agemeer’s discorporate form drifted downward. He could make out the tidy bandages that he had used to bind up the man’s injuries; he could almost smell the herb salve.

Instead of walking away as Agemeer knew the man had done in the past, the brigand turned back to the broken burned body lying in his last few moments silent and still. Looming over the scholar, the brigand spoke but Agemeer knew it was he, the discorporate form, which the terrible man spoke to. “I could easily slit yer throat, ya know. I could do that fer ya, pay ya back for the kindness ya showed. It’d be the least I could do.”

“Why? Why did you do this to me? I have wondered…” Agemeer asked softly.

The man snorted and glanced up at him. “Why?” He repeated derisively. “That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard! Only a fool would ask that.”

“Then I must be a fool for this question I have often asked myself. I assisted your recovery, I gave you food and you sat beside my fire. Your repayment was unjust. I did not deserve such.” Agemeer said sagely. His eyes were sad but not for his own death. “What led you to such a travesty? What hate-filled life brought you to feel only distrust and spite toward even the simplest gesture of goodwill?”

“Wh-what are ya blathering about? I killed ya because… because I could.” The man lashed out.

Agemeer shook his head. “All trees begin their life the same, as a seed. The environment the seed takes root in directly affects its outcome. If the tree does not get the water and light it needs, it will wither and become malformed. Please tell me so that I might put your soul at rest from its grief.”

“Grief?! I don’t know what yer sayin’! I am happy I tell ya!” The man shouted. “In fact, maybe I’ll show ya how happy I am by killing you now!”

“If my death will absolve you then it is a price I am willing to pay.”

“How can ya be forgiving to me? I tried to kill ya remember?! I used ya and tried to kill ya for it!”

“I am saying there is a reason behind all actions. I was happy I came to meet you though I had wished things had ended differently but perhaps the grief you felt changed your reflections on life in general. Perhaps life grew to have meaning after you took mine; that is what I hope.”

The brigand met Agemeer’s eyes and the mask broke. Tumbling to the ground was the shell of hatred and dispassion revealing a face filled with pain and confusion. “I don’t understand…”

“It is easy. I have learned much from you and I hoped the feeling was mutual. After you left, a Giant Wulf rescued me. From there I gained the most wonderful of companions. We are traveling now to save a lost soul not so dissimilar from yours.”

“Y-ya…lived? I-I didn’t finish ya off?”

“No, though I would have succumbed had the Wulf not arrived when he had.”

The man wrapped his mind around the admission and gave a nod. “And these companions…?”

Agemeer smiled fondly. “They too are worth my death. I may not have much to offer beyond my just being there but all that I have is theirs. I hope one day you gain the trust and loyalty of your own companions and have those feelings reciprocated.”

“Ya aren’t… angry?” The man asked as if fearing the answer.

“No. At one point in my life I think I was but I am no longer. I accept what I cannot change and I try to move on. I bear no ill-will toward you.”

The Wulf appeared and the brigand stepped back away from the dying body at his feet.

“If our journeys ever meet again, I hope to make amends for what I did.” The man said.

“No amends are necessary just promise me you will continue to live and value the life around you. That is all I ask.”

~ ~ ~

The loss was like an ache in his chest. The fear and remorse was something he could not banish with acceptance. It was impossible. There was only one person who could give what was taken back to him and it was also the same person who could easily decide to keep it.

It frightened him how this one person could control every aspect of his life and it also frightened him to even consider not doing what this one person asked. Would He know? Could He know already that the thought was festering within his mind?

Serrtin, Aya, Agemeer and Genlo… they were his friends now and SkyRift did not want them to think he had willingly betrayed them. In truth it was far from willing. Everything he had done in the past year was against his heart.

It would be over soon. At least for him.

The pain would melt away. He would have what was taken from him once more. He would no longer need to worry. He could go back to his warm cave in the lands of Jade, perhaps he would begin his journey to find his life-mate. He had much to do once he was made whole again.

But his friends… how would they fare? Would they be subject to the same fate- to be coerced and used as the means to an end? Could he continue on knowing that that was what awaited them at the top of the Sigilarian Stairwell?

“You will do as you are told, dragon, or I will drag you into Dystopia and leave you to be torn apart by the tormented shades that reside there. Without your ‘precious item’, you would be defenseless. Just as you are now.”

“Please, this is wrong. Let me at least warn-” SkyRift started, hearing the voice in his mind. It was dark and he could not see.

“You will do nothing! I have already told you your role in this. You are to guide them here. I will return my bargaining chip and set you free. If you breathe word of what awaits them, I promise you a lifetime of suffering. I have all the time in the world… as you know. My plan fails and I will send them along with you.”

SkyRift bit his lip till it bled. “I-I… will not say anything.”

Silence.

“Good. Lead them out. You know the way. I am waiting.”
The voice replied.
“This place will not let you pass as you are. I must make it see things my way…”

The darkness flared abruptly white, sending needles of pain into SkyRift’s eyes. Then he was gone.

~ ~ ~

“No, no no!” Aya’s teacher cried out, delivering a sharp smack to the table in front of her. “You are doing it incorrectly! How someone like you could ever hope to become a mage is beyond me. And to think you are a Mythren. Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry. This spell is just difficult for me. I’ll get it though!” Aya pleaded, watching the fire that engulfed the practice spire peter out. The spell had been mostly sparks, barely able to reach the spire from their
location. Tutor and student stood in a cavernous room, its round ceiling almost thirty feet in height and cobbled in mother-of-pearl. Rune lines were etched into both wall and ceiling.

The woman sighed in exasperation. “That’s what you say but I still have yet to see improvement. Are you aware that both your father and mother, not to mention your brother the prodigy, all learned this spell in a single day’s afternoon? They had perfect control within a fortnight. So why is it you are having such difficulty?”

Aya bit down on an ill-tempered comment. “I don’t know.”

“Of course not.” Sniped the older woman. “That’s why you will never be a great mage. You’ll be-”

“I may never be a great mage- not like Yukarim- but I will be content with what I have. I will never be the mage they write about in stories but that is not what matters most to me. If I can stand with head held high at the end of the day then I will truly be what I want to be.”

“
What is this?!
” The tutor drew back in surprise.

“I don’t mean any disrespect.” Aya responded. “This is what I have learned on my own, through traveling with my companions. I will try and if I fail, it only means I need to try harder to reach my goals, but I am not going to feel bad about falling short. No one has the right to make me feel like I am insignificant.”