The Faith of the Wicked

When hired assassins don’t return, it generally causes fear in the heart of their employer. Highking Yrit was just beginning to understand this as he paced nervously around his private chambers. Jifriir looked on with no emotion, hands clasped dutifully behind his back.

“Are you alright, sir?” He asked as Yrit let out a low growl.

“Do I look alright, Jifriir?” Yrit snapped, running his fingers through his hair. “Do I look anything remotely resembling alright?”

“In truth, sir,” Jifriir said with a raised eyebrow. “You are normally quite stressed. I wasn’t sure if this was your normal agitation or something more specific.”

“I sent those men to kill Gestarin hours ago.” Yrit growled. “The job shouldn’t have taken them longer than one.” He looked pointedly at the manservant. “Explain to me, then, why they have not returned.”

“Perhaps a number of reasons.” Jifriir shrugged. “Perhaps they met resistance that they were not expecting. Perhaps they merely went to celebrate after a job well done.” The hints of a wicked smile played at Jifriir’s lips, startling the Highking. “Or perhaps they were accosted by the three Jods that arrived in Matrikai only a few minutes after they set out on their mission.”

Yrit’s blood ran cold, and he turned slowly toward Jifriir. “What did you say?”

“Oh?” Jifriir actually smiled now, a terrifying gesture. “Did my lord not see?” He pointed at the window. “Just after you hired those men, three more Jods touched ground in the castle courtyard. That makes the total number of servants of Aia…” He counted sarcastically on his fingers. “Six, I believe.”

“What is your stake in this, Jifriir?” Yrit growled, a trickle of understanding reaching his clouded mind. “What have you to gain?”

“A new master, hopefully.” Jifriir shot back, anger evident in his normally flat voice. “You never understand what’s right under your nose, do you?” He shook his head. “Do you suddenly think that all men share your vision? Do you think that other men will kill and destroy as you will to get their way?” His voice grew more emphatic as he spoke on, and his hands shook with his feeling. “You are evil, Lord Yrit, and I have kept my tongue long enough. Perhaps these Jods will grant my conscience a respite.” He bowed sarcastically. “I will leave now, my lord. Pray we do not meet again.” He walked briskly out the door, slamming it behind him.

Yrit sat on his sofa, breathing deeply. What just happened?

I think you need to interview your servants longer, Finaril. Liranif sighed. They’re getting to be a little unreliable.

Jifriir was the best servant I ever had! Yrit protested. Why would he turn on me?

You really are dense, aren’t you? Liranif laughed. Arrogance clouds the best minds, I suppose.

My cause is just! Yrit replied vehemently. I seek to save the world! Who could disagree with that?

Jifriir, apparently. Liranif chuckled. He seemed to be very distraught whenever you turned your back. Tread lightly, Highking. Enemies are everywhere. Yrit could feel LIranif’s presence leave. Almost immediately, somebody else entered the room.

“I’m glad he left.” The Flen said. He stood staring at Yrit like a child staring at a new toy. “I never like to speak when one of them are in the room.”

“I have questions for you, Flen.” Yrit growled, standing and pointing a stern finger at him. “You’d best answer truthfully.”

“Ask away, Highking.” The Flen held out his hands. “I am here for you to use.”

“What are three more Jods doing in the city?” Yrit slammed his fist on the table. “I thought you said that I was chosen as the servant of Aia. Why are they fraternizing with King Gestarin?”

“I said that you are one of the chosen.” The Flen clarified. “King Gestarin is another, and two of the first three Jods are the others. As for the second three,” He shrugged. “Perhaps they simply wish to chat with the King.”

“I highly doubt it.” Yrit scoffed. “Jods always seem to meddle in the human’s business.”

“That is quite true.” The Flen nodded. “Especially considering they killed your assassins.” He chuckled. “Ironic, actually. They never knew what hit them.”

“I knew it!” Yrit shouted. “King Gestarin must have known what I was trying to do and called them in to help him.” He shook his head. “Gestarin always was weak.”

“Really?” Gestarin’s voice sounded from the front of the room. “I always thought I was stronger than you, Cobra. Maybe I’m growing old.”

Yrit didn’t expect his legs to give out so fast. He collapsed on the couch in a stupor, the word “Cobra” echoing over and over in his mind. Where had Gestarin learned that?

Vixin.

Yes, there he was. Standing right beside the King, looking all proud and smug beside four different Jods. Yrit had always hated that look. He had thought that ousting Vixin from his own house as a child would have humbled him a slight amount, but to no avail. Yrit should have known he would never change.

When Yrit looked up to give a retort, however, he noticed the attention was not on him. Strange. It wasn’t every day that the Highking of the Diradis fell over onto his furniture in surprise. What had drawn their gaze?

“Pardon me, your majesty?” Yrit said slowly, looking around. There, behind the king. The bald servant, Efstany, was staring in shock at the other Flen.

“Radiran?” He said. “Why are you here?”

Yrit didn’t hear the Flen’s response. He was too busy falling over again on his sofa .

* * *

Gestarin was only slightly confused by Yrit’s reaction, but he was greatly troubled by Efstany’s outburst. He glanced between the two Flens, a look of surprise etched on all three men’s expressions.

“Efstany?” He said gently. “Do you know this man?”

“I do, my lord.” Efstany nodded slowly, his eyes still locked on this “Radiran”. “He was my last Harvest.”

A realization popped into Gestarin’s brain. “Radiran?” He looked over at the other Flen. “The man that brought the Flens to Carnidoni?”

Efstany nodded slowly. “Though I am sure he doesn’t remember.”

“I remember all too well.” Radiran said, a look of pain flashing across his chiseled features. “I had hoped my actions in bringing about Aia’s grand day would make up for them.”

“How have you been helping?” Valanal snorted. “Assisting this man in sending assassins after three of the Chosen does not help our cause.”

“Only one is needed.” Radiran countered. “Four confuses things. True justice will be served if Liranif is ascended.”

“Would you create a flawed God, Flen?” Valanal roared, dashing forward and stopping inches in front of the Flen’s face. “You realize that breaking him into pieces started this whole mess. Why would you wish for a deity that is unwhole?”

Before the Flen could respond, a small whimper rose from the couch where HIghking Yrit sat. All eyes turned to him.

“Radiran?” He croaked. “Radiran Yrinsson?” He held out a hand. “My son?”

The room went completely silent.

Well. Gestarin thought to himself. I certainly wasn’t expecting that.

Radiran took in a shallow breath. “Yes, father. It is me.” He walked over and helped Yrit stand. “I am here to help.”

“How is this possible?” Yrit breathed quietly, running a shaking hand across his son’s face.

“The Void, father.” Radiran said gently. “Aia has brought me back to help you become far greater than any man.”

“Wait.” Gestarin said. “This Flen is your son, Highking?”

“Of course.” Yrit said with a sigh. “My most favored son.” Radiran smiled at his father before turning back to the others.

“Enough of this.” Vixin growled, stepping forward and putting his hand on his Bloodblade hilt. “Highking Yrit, we have a proposal for you. One that you cannot possibly refuse.” Swiftly, Radiran stepped in front of Vixin and shoved him backward against the wall.

“Step no further, boy.” He growled. “Would you pit yourself against a Flen? A servant of Aia?” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Why are you doing this, Radiran?” Efstany pleaded. “I can tell that you have spoken with Aia. Why are you opposing us? You know what needs to happen. Aia’s blood, you of all people should know!”

“Aia has a just vision, true.” Radiran said haughtily. “But you and the humans have corrupted his vision. Aia doesn’t need four servants- he only needs one. And I am here to ensure that my father is the chosen.”

Efstany shook his head. “How could you have grown so blind? You know the consequence of the ascension. Only one who has bridged the gap can cope with it. The man who is your father would die if you let him take Aia’s place.”

“A small price to pay for the position he would hold.” Radiran snapped. After a deep breath, he regained his composure. “We will have to agree to disagree on this point, Efstany. There is no point in arguing any more.”

“I was thinking the exact same thing.” Vixin said as he suddenly rose, Wolfsbane in hand. “My sword prefers to do the talking anyway.” He thrust it blindingly toward Radiran’s stomach. Equally as swift, Radiran drew his own Wolfsbane from his right shoulder and parried the blow, knocking Vixin back.

“This is your decision, then?” He growled, falling into the Way of the Fox. “So be it. Prepare yourself, Viceroy, for this moment shall be your-” He was cut off as Vixin spun a flurry of blows toward him. The sound of a beating heart filled the room, pounding at such a rate that it sounded more like a buzz than a beat. The two men’s Blades whizzed and hissed through the air as they both struck and blocked with expert grace.

“You really talk too much.” Vixin chuckled as he lazily blocked one of Radiran’s slashed. “Maybe it’s distracting, Flen. Would you like me to tie your lips together so that you may focus on your swordplay?” Radiran grunted, his teeth clenched. As the two continued, it became obvious to Gestarin that Vixin, for all his talent, was going to lose.

“Radiran has all of the of the expertise of every Flen that has ever lived.” Efstany said in despair. “There is no way the Viceroy can possibly match him.”

“He doesn’t have to.” Gestarin said forcefully, pulling his Falconeyes out of his wrist. He fell into the Way of the Falcon, Blades at his side, and charged toward Yrit. His desire to was to apprehend the Highking while Radiran was occupied with Vixin, but as he did, Radiran spun gracefully and slashed his Blade toward Gestarin. The King parried quickly and jumped back, ready for another attack, but Radiran had spun back to fight Vixin.

Aia’s blood. Gestarin swore. How is he able to do that?

He continued to try again to apprehend Yrit, but to no avail. Each time Radiran spun around and blocked his path before immediately going returning to his duel with Vixin. And Vixin was tiring. His face was dripping sweat as he fought at a tremendous speed, and he seemed to be slowing. Yrit stared at Vixin with a sort of cruel satisfaction. He didn’t try to run, didn’t try to hide. He simply stood and watched the man he hated most move closer to his death.

“Vixin can’t hold on much longer.” Gestarin said to Efstany between deep breaths. “Were you able to get to Yrit?”

“No.” Efstany replied between clenched teeth. “Radiran is too quick, and I have been away from the Void for too long.”

Gestarin nodded gravely and looked over at the Jods. Kiinrin and Jiriinii seemed to be immobilized, their faces white and their hands shaking. Gestarin felt an enormous amount of pity. No matter how old they looked, they were just children. How could he have expected them to help? Vilkanai had collapsed onto the floor again, his hands over his ears as more memories flooded into his brain. Gestarin would get no help from him- his mind was too unstable.

That left only Valanal. Why hadn’t the Jod, the greatest of all of them, gone to Vixin’s aid? He stood in the doorway, looking at the duel with an unreadable expression.

“Why don’t you help, Seat of Jod?” Gestarin called out angrily. “You would be much more effective than an old king and a fallen Flen.” Valanal seemed to be shaken out of a trance.  He looked over at Gestarin with dark eyes.

“Do you truly wish it, King?” He said quietly, with an intensity that startled Gestarin. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes!” Gestarin was exasperated. What was going on with the Jod? “Help Vixin before he gets slaughtered!”

Valanal nodded gravely. He reached toward his left wrist and ripped the Aetherblade hilt from his wrist, the milky white liquid flowing out of the gash. It rippled and solidified into the form of Eliran’s Sickle.

“Very well then, your majesty.” He said. “I go to his aid.” He walked slowly toward the fighting pair. As Radiran and Vixin’s Blades met, he slammed his own against the pair and pushed Vixin away from the Flen. Radiran looked startled and backpedaled slightly.

“You truly desire this?” He said softly, Blade falling to the side. “You choose this as your day?”

“Indeed, Radiran.” Valanal nodded and fell into the Way of the Pike, a sturdy, unyielding style of fighting. “Only one.”

“Only one.” Radiran nodded, and matched his fighting stance.

Gestarin actually found himself excited to watch the two duel, but he was interrupted by Highking Yrit diving out of the window.

* * *

It’s strange, really. Liranif had mused as Yrit watched his son engage Vixin. So many aspects of this encounter are just completely surreal. What are you going to do, your majesty? Assist your son and risk harm? Flee, and leave your son to die again as you seek to accomplish his goal for you? Then he had chuckled. Your confusion never ceases to entertain me, Highking.  What will you choose?

Even though he knew that he wouldn’t come to any harm, falling from the top of his mansion was quite frightening. Yrit felt like he was falling through jelly- his thoughts moved so much faster than his body. He relived the scene inside his chambers over and over again, watching Radiran fight that unworthy Viceroy. He watched as his son came within inches of his life and Yrit was powerless to help him. How had he fallen to such depths? When did he become a coward?

But Radiran hadn’t needed his help. He had successfully defended himself against Vixin and protected Yrit from Gestarin and that servant Efstany. Yrit had never been more proud of his son. Even after becoming a Flen, he was more than capable and loyal enough to help his father.

But then that Jod had entered the fray.

He had walked toward Radiran with a calm that terrified Yrit to no end. He walked like a man facing his death, and he did it with a kind of tranquility Yrit had never seen before. That Jod, Valanal, frightened Yrit far more than the thought of Flens ever had, more than Vixin, Efstany, and Gestarin combined. And so, he had jumped.

He had never tried this particular manner of escape from his mansion. Always a paranoid man, Yrit had installed several different alternate routes out of every building he resided in. This time, however, both the fireplace escape and the passage underneath the rug had been blocked. So, naturally, the window had been the only option.

After what seemed like an eternity, Yrit hit the enormous bag of air with a force that knocked the air out of him. Wheezing and coughing, he struggled to sit up on the undulating surface. He tested his legs and arms for broken bones and sighed in relief when he felt none, even though he started coughing violently afterwards. Bless the Reledanians and their dedication to science! The airbag had worked exactly as it should have.

Yrit looked up at the window and smiled at Gestarin as he leaned his head out. They would not catch him now.

Snagging a nondescript brown cloak from a hidden pile next to the bag, Highking Yrit took off nimbly down the street.

* * *

Valanal and Radiran both grimaced as their Blades spun and weaved through the air, matching the buzz that the Blades generated as they clashed at a hectic pace. Neither man followed any specific Way at this point- they were adapting far too quickly for that. As soon as one man switched into a Way to counter his opponent’s, the other began to counter it with a switch of his own. And so their style morphed into something more, a true symphony of swordplay. Gestarin wished that he could watch their duel for hours, but he needed to figure out a way to pursue Yrit. He hoped that Valanal could keep Radiran busy enough to allow them to go after the Highking.

“Do you have any idea how he survived that fall?” Gestarin said to Efstany, looking out the window at the fleeing form of Yrit. “Because I don’t.”

“There’s something on the ground beneath the window, my lord.” Efstany said, squinting. “I can’t tell what it is.”

“Well,” Gestarin said with a shrug. “If he survived, I think that I can too.” He began to remove his hefty coat. Efstany dutifully took it from him, though he looked skeptical.

“Highking Yrit may know a specific way to do it, my lord.” He cautioned. “There may be some trick to it that must be done to survive.”

“I don’t think there is.” Gestarin shook his head. “Yrit wasn’t very… graceful with his fall. He couldn’t have done much to prepare.” He looked down at the thing that lay on the ground. “I think it’s just something to catch you if you fall.”

Efstany nodded. “Very well then, my lord.” He put a hand of Gestarin’s shoulder. “But be careful.”

Gestarin returned the nod before looking at his children, still frozen in the doorway. “Jiriinii, Kiinrin!” They looked at him with wide eyes and frightened expressions. “Come here.” They looked at each other before slowly making their way over to their father. “Are you two alright?” He put a hand on each of their shoulders.

Kiinrin nodded. “Just, when we saw the Flen…”

“It’s so much more real than we thought.” Jiriinii said quietly, trembling. “We both just sort of… froze.” She looked away with tears glinting in her eyes.

“Look at me.” Gestarin said, turning her face toward his. He smiled gently. “Nobody expected you to jump in and fight. Nobody expected you both to be heroes when you are scarcely more than children.”

“But-”

“But nothing.” Gestarin shook his head. “Nobody blames you.” He looked them both in the eye. “But now I need your help.” He pointed at the window. “I need one of you to stay with me and help pursue Highking Yrit. And I need the other to stick to the skies and direct me. Can you two do that?” They hesitated, but then they nodded.

“I can watch from the air.” Kiinrin said proudly. “I can smell his fear as he runs away.”

Jiriinii tensed and looked at her father with determination. “I’ll stay with you, father. I can chase him.” She looked at her brother. “And we can both speak through Nirnik and Iniriija.”

Gestarin smiled and embraced his children quickly. “So be it.” He pointed at the window. “Now fly out of here. I’ll join you in a minute.” They nodded and dove out.

“Are you sure they can do this?” Efstany said. “They are young.”

“They are more than capable.” Gestarin nodded. He looked over at Valanal and Radiran as they dueled. “Watch them for me. If one of them wins, I want you to come find me. That way, I’ll know whether to rejoice or whether to find a place to hide.”

“Very well, my lord.” Efstany said, clapping him on the back. “Godspeed.”

Gestarin nodded and, before he could convince himself of the foolishness of his actions, dove out the window. He hoped the landing would be soft.