Chapter 13: Revival and Retribution

Chapter 13: Revival and Retribution

 

Gorec lay, forced to rest in his room.  He growled in frustration, at being unable to do anything at all.  The moment he steps foot out of that door he is surrounded by Flames, and forced back.  He stood and began to pace, hands clasped behind his back, allowing his mind to wonder in thought.  He paced most of the morning before he realized that he felt hollow, and no pain.  He started, and growled again before grabbing his sword and strapping it to his belt, bursting out of the room to the usual guard.  Quickly his sword cleared its sheath, and he held himself to fight.  “Heed my words.  I am not here to fight.  I am here to leave, the time has passed.  Something terrible has happened.  Now, either you turn around now and let me leave or I leave the hard way, with blood on my hands.  The choice is yours.”

“Now, Gorec, have you learned nothing here?  Threats will get you no where, you’ve tried thrice daily to the same result.”  The Blaze Mistress stepped down the halls, the Flames parting before her.  “Now, I still know not what has affected you and until I know you are unsafe to leave.”

“Mistress before you rule, and have me forced back into that prison, hear me out.  I no longer feel the Bane.  Do you see what that means?  One of two things have happened, and neither one of them is good.  Someone, undoubtedly, has died.  It could be someone close to me, or a complete stranger, but one way or another someone is dead.  Do you still not see?  I must go, and see what has happened!  Now, release me from this captivity Mistress.  Is it not your order’s creed to protect those in need?  Hypocrites!  You swear to protect, yet hold me against my will!  Release me, this instant!  Or, has Firære gone so cold in his Flame that he will allow innocents to die?”  Gorec retorted, a bit of smug satisfaction in his look and tone at the expressions of all present.

The Blaze Mistress’s mouth moved, words trying to form, but she was cut short.  The temperature in the hallway rose greatly at the appearance of a dozen more Flames, though there was something different about these.  The dozen flames that appeared were easily ten feet tall, each a blazing silver.  The guard stepped to one side, allowing the sight of yet another Flame.  The new Flame approached, quite easily twice the height of the Guard and an eye blazing golden colour.  The Gold Flame stopped before Gorec; all of the Priestess’ and the Mistress fell to their knees before it.  “Gorec, I have heard you speak during your stay.”  The voice that came from the Flame was unexpected, a soft tone much akin to the crackling of a fire.  “I have even heard you speak ill in my name, and of my actions.  I know what has befallen your friends, and our enemies.  I know of the fate of the Blackturner’s Bane.  Fear not for your love, for she is safe for now.  The Bane has been destroyed, yes, but it has not fulfilled the purpose for which it was created.  It has slain another.  Your Emperor has been slain by the evil that resided in that sword as well as the evil of Brell, as you know him.  There are greater forces at work here than you were aware of.  The God’s themselves have become involved now.  Brellamin the Black, God of Death, Destruction, and Chaos has made himself known.  He captured Lyra, which you were already aware of.  Using her body he found the Bane, and has committed murder with her hands.  I do not mourn the destruction of that foul sword, but I do mourn for our fallen hero.”

Firære then turned his gaze from Gorec.  “Maye, Blaze Mistress of this Temple.  Your work here is done another Mistress has already been chosen to assume your duties.  You have a new mission.  I bid you to accompany Gorec, and see this quest through.  First you will revive Dyorn Andros, for he is the key to the end of the Blackturner’s and peace on Dragonia and Entantium.”  Maye looked to Firære, shock clear in her eyes, and tried to speak again, only to be cut short.  “It is possible to revive him.  Hold out your hands.”  Hesitantly Maye held her hands out together.  Firære extended his right hand over hers and from the palm a drop of molten gold fell, hardening in the space between before landing softly in her hands.  Firære flickered, and dulled, before speaking again his voice having lost that soft sound, now resembling a dying fire’s last licks.  “Use that to revive him.  Now, you two must hurry.  The longer Brell goes unchallenged the closer we come to losing this world.  Go by Smoke, Maye, for that is the quickest way there is.  Be gone from here, with my blessing.”  At that Firære and his guards vanished, leaving the hall seeming much colder.

Maye stood, holding the drop of Firære’s blood covetously before placing it in her pouch; turning to Gorec she motioned for him to follow her.  “As Firære wishes, it shall be done.  Let us leave here, Gorec.”  Though her words showed friendship her tone accused Gorec of her loss of position, and her current assignment.

Gorec followed her down the hallways through which she led, hardly taking note as they traveled deeper and deeper into the temple.  He made many attempts at conversation, though they were half hearted.  His mind was reeling, and his heart breaking with each step at the news that Firære had delivered.  Fewer Priestesses’ were to be found and soon the few that he saw vanished.  It was shortly after that when they came, suddenly, into a large antechamber.  In the middle of the room sat a golden fire, large enough to make the walls around it seem to close in.  Gorec looked around in amazement, before noticing the alter upon which the fire sat, approaching the alter he looked closer as the script near the floor before looking towards Maye again.  “I can feel the magic of this place, yet I cannot read the inscription, how is that possible?”

Maye only laughed at him, the only bit of amusement that had overtaken her since her new assignment.  “Simply, you are a man.   Men are not allowed to serve Firære in his temples, only in the world.  The runes you see are an oath…the last oath a Priestess of Firære takes in her service.   Through that oath we dedicate our entire being to Him…”  Her voice trailed off as she remembered her dedication, how young and innocent she was all those years ago, and the lifetime of service that had followed afterwards.  The reminiscence came to a sudden halt as her mind caught up to her present circumstance.  Unconsciously her hand fell into the pouch on her waist, her fingertips caressing the single most important thing in her possession: The single drop of Firære’s blood.  She shook her head and approached the blaze.  She looked towards Gorec once more.  “Feel blessed, only the Blaze Mistress is allowed to travel the Smoke.”

He looked towards her inquisitively, before speaking the question on his mind.  “Just what is the Smoke?”

Maye scoffed before shaking her head, muttering about the ignorance of men.  “This fire represents every fire burning everywhere in Entantium, as well as Dragonia.  Through Firære we are connected to them, and with his guidance we can travel to any fire we want in a matter of moments.  Other than the Mage Roads, it is the fastest way of travel.  All we need to do is think of someone near a fire and we can travel there…this part is left to you.  I do not know much of Alora, and only know of Dyorn as the Emperor of Dragonia, therefore you need to concentrate on one of them.  When they are firm in your mind you step into the Fire, and you will be there.”

When her voice trailed off Gorec spoke without thought.  “Assuming they lit a fire…”  Maye nodded in agreement before stepping back as he rose.  With his mind unable to focus on his departed friend he thought of Alora.  Just the simple thought of her made his heart flutter and confidence in his own abilities to increase.  Fearless he stepped into the heart of the inferno before him; dimly aware of the magical residence he felt brush against him.  The fire crackled and a dark plume of smoke burst forth, followed by another.

 

Alora held her silent vigil over the body of Dyorn; her sword unsheathed across her lap awaiting the scavengers that she was certain would arrive to feast on his flesh.  Quiet sobs still racked her body, her eyes swollen and red unable to produce any more tears.  The fire crackled across from her and two plumes of gold smoke rose from it with her still unaware.  The plumes took on a solid form as Gorec and Maye stepped forth.  Gorec’s boot snapping a twig brought Alora’s attention up and she leapt to her feet, her sword tight in hand.  “You can’t have him!”  He swollen eyes came up just in time to see Gorec before she drove her sword into his chest.  It took a moment for her to realize that this really was her beloved and when she did her grip loosened, her sword clattering to the ground, as she threw herself into Gorec’s arms.  She buried her face in his chest and wept again, her eyes somehow finding more tears.  Between her sobs she spoke.  “Dyorn…Dyorn…Dyorn is dead…”  Her throat tightened, disallowing her to speak anymore.

Gorec could only nod the sight of his departed liege and the tears of his love causing his throat to tighten.  He contended himself to holding Alora protectively to him, his right hand stroking her hair comfortingly.  He looked over to see Maye approach Dyorn’s body.  She rested on her knees beside him and drew the golden droplet from her pouch, placing it into the wound.  Closing her hands above it she muttered a prayer to Firære.  Timeless moments passed before Dyorn drew a sharp breath.  His eyes flicked open and he leapt to his feet, knocking Maye over, and drawing his blade with a wordless scream.  His eyes focused and soon he saw the three of them, and sheathed his sword.  Catching a better look at Maye he brushed the leaves off of his clothing, his forefinger catching in the hole in his shirt.  “How is this possible?”

Maye’s torque burned brighter as she took a knee before Dyorn.  “My lord, Firære has made it possible.  He has reignited the spark of life within you.”  She looked up just as a golden burst of light filled the small camp.  The light fell and settled around Dyorn’s neck in the form of a Golden torque.  “You have been chosen, Dyorn of Dragonia, as Firære’s Champion.  Fit to conquer the Gods themselves.”  Still on her knees she bowed her head once more.  “As Firære wishes, so shall I serve.”  She removed the white bow from her back and laid it at Dyorn’s feet.

Dyorn took one of Maye’s hands and brought her to her feet, handing her back her bow.  “I take no servants in this quest, only friends.”  He flashed a bright smile before sitting near the fire, once everyone else had taken a seat he spoke again.  “Tell me, what has transpired since we were separated?”  The conversation was then taken up by the still shaken Alora, her tear stained cheeks glistening again as new tears of joy fell.  Hours passed at the three companions caught up on the events since the Tower, with Maye adding in a few of the details that neither of them knew.  Finally Dyorn spoke of his encounter in the past with his father, and Yaren, as he finished he drew out the triundem.

Gorec reached out and took the object from Dyorn.  “So it was never truly lost.”  He chuckled and mused to himself.  “Do you realize what we can do with this?  It took three to create Castlelake from nothing, with this we could destroy Kagain without having to go near him.”

They all turned towards Gorec, unsure about his logic.  Alora and Maye opened their mouths to speak but Dyorn beat them both to it.  “No.  I have already thought of a use for this.  I will use it power to hide Castlelake.  I learned many things from Yaren’s ramblings, and I want to be prepared.”  Without questioning they nodded, and Gorec returned the object to Dyorn who swiftly put it in his pouch.  “However, in light of recent events, it seems that we are at a loss…with the Bane destroyed Kagain will return to his full power.”

Alora squeaked a bit in embarrassment.  “The Bane wasn’t completely destroyed.”  She nodded towards a velvet cloth sitting near the fire before pulling the cloth off.  Beneath the cloth sat the remains of the Bane, a knife sized piece of the black blade attached to the handle was all that remained.  “It may not be enough to kill him, as we had hoped, but it may be enough to weaken him.”

Dyorn gave a saddened nod.  “That will have to be enough, but he is not our target right now.”  A sound of shock came from the three sitting around Dyorn and he held up a hand before continuing.  “Brell has captured my wife.  Through the blessing I received from Firære I can feel where they are.  Brell is returning to the Lake to regroup before confronting Kagain.  The plan is relatively simple…we stop Brell from meeting with Kagain and reclaim Lyra before anything happens.”

Maye had kept her silence through most of their conversation, but as Dyorn revealed the simplicity of his plan she spoke up.  “It will not be that easy, my lord.   I know of your deeds in the Lake, but Brellamin the Black is not as easy an adversary as you want to believe he is.  You’ve seen his inhuman minions, but he also has legions of human’s that serve him.  Those who follow him, or his principles, are all connected to the Order of Shadùæ[1].”  She nearly spat the word with venom, making the conflict between the two orders quite apparent.

“I know of them well…My father allied himself with the Shadestalkers[2] long ago…it was through them that he acquired many of the texts he has.”  She turned to Maye.  “Many of the weapons they possess they acquired from him, in trade for the texts and other services.”  Alora’s voice faded and silence fell onto the campsite.

“I don’t hold you responsible for your father’s actions.  You’ve made up for his evil by your desire to help us.”  Maye’s voice held the softness that she had used in the Temple.  She turned once more to Dyorn.  “Our next course of action is your decision, Dyorn.  Your people admire you for your ability to make the right choices, and your friends love you enough to follow you through all of this.   Those facts alone would convince me to follow you.  Firære trusted you as his Champion in this battle, and with that I will swear my allegiance and that of my Temple.  The Flameweavers will follow you to the end.”

Dyorn gave a decisive nod.  “I owe the Flameweavers much recently, and my friendship does not come unrewarded.”  He took in his remaining three companions, before looking in the direction of the Lake.  “We have a great friend in this battle now…the element of surprise.  Brell believes me dead, and it won’t be long until Kagain believes the same.  The time to strike is upon us.  We head for the Lake of the Dead tomorrow.  We will send a message to Kagain through our actions, and make him regret the day he decided to usurp our home!”

With the plan set, and the fires of hope burning brightly in the chests of everyone they made their beds and when the moon was at its peak in the sky the soft sound of their sleep could be heard among the various noises in the forest.  The fire burned down to its embers, barely revealing the form of an old man near the edge of their camp.   “The best of luck to you all.”  The voice crackled like a fire and as the man vanished the remains of their fire vanished as well.

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[1] The Order of Shadùæ is an order dedicated to the dark god Brellamin.  They are masters of stealth, guile, and questionable means.  Though most members are criminals, the High Priests know well who they serve.

[2] Term for the Priests of the Shadùæ, considered a vile insult when used by members of any other Order.