XXIII. WHERE MYTH FADES TO LEGEND

  Overlooking the city of Marquez, upon a forested ridge was the gathering force of armed and armored warriors of The Dusk realm. Among them were two colossal creatures, they had the faces of a bear and the features of an old man, complete with beard and cataract eyes. It had the long ears of an elf, wrinkled and drooping, it’s a body was covered with a thick gaudy pelt. Alden stood upon the shoulder of one of these giants, and spied on the city through a pair of binoculars. He put away his binoculars and tugged on its fur, the creature kneeled down below the canopy. Morana rose up as an apparition from the ground; her hair was adorned with spring flowers and sprigs of fresh herb.

  “What did you see?”

  “Nothing like the Marquez I remember, though formidable nonetheless. Why don’t you and that violet haired bastard just use magic and blow the whole thing to hell?”

  “If it were that easy, they wouldn’t be building castles and the like anymore now would they? The stone all have magic negating runes and glyphs carved in them. I can’t even teleport unless I step foot into the city first. It would be a futile effort at best.”

  Osric stepped out from a void that suddenly appeared between them, followed by Alden’s soldiers wearing camouflage helmets, jackets, and trousers with somewhat bulky vests that served as their armor. Several were carrying large lacquered crates and other equipment. All had dark shades covering their eyes and cloth face masks that depicted demons or clown’s mouths covering the rest.

  “Dramatic much?” Morana asked tiredly. “I thought you didn’t want to come.”

  “Our friend here requested I go to Agrardya to procure some supplies.” Osric said indifferently. “Speaking of which, the Fort of Trugdahl no longer exists, it is now a thriving city and has been for nearly two-thousand years.”

  Alden scratched his head. “Huh. At least they didn’t find the weapons caches.”

  Osric dusted the snow off of a log and took a seat. “Oh, they did. Someone by the name of Anuriel the Bandit Queen raided the fort and founded the city in the year eighty-seven. As for the fort, it’s been thoroughly excavated. Fortunately, one of your soldiers comes from a town called Vacadahl that was essentially lost to time.”

  One of the soldiers dropped a crate before Alden and opened it up. Alden removed a pistol and two magazines. He inserted one magazine and the weapon lit up and made a short, high pitched whining sound. Alden smiled and holstered the weapon.

  “Cow town huh? Not surprising they didn’t rebuild that shithole with a name like that.”

  “Do you know of this Anuriel character?” Osric persisted.

  Alden shrugged and strapped two grenades to his vest. “Beats me, she came about a hundred years after my time. Do these work?”

  The soldier shook his head. “It is unlikely Sir; all conventional arms are inert for some reason. Even the ones in environmental controlled facilities.”

  “Fuck.” Alden swore as he tossed the grenades back into the crate.

  “She was a woman who was captured by raiders, she manipulated and lied her way into becoming their leader to avoid death or a life of sexual servitude.”

  “Sounds rough.” Alden said offhandedly. “Vehicles?”

  The soldier shook his head. “Negative. Civilian population worked through those centuries ago.”

  “Yes, it is quite an interesting bit of local folklore.” Osric said, oblivious to the fact he was being ignored.

  The soldier handed Alden a thin tablet of glass and aluminum. “We still have comsats and OP’s in orbit.”

  Alden tapped the glass and swiped his finger across. “You’re kidding.”

  “No sir, we’ve got two Aes Sidhean Military Relays still functioning, an Agrardyan RfG delivery platform, Silex-one -the civilian space colony- and the Automated Planetary Defense Network appears to be mostly operational.”

  “Dawnbringer?”

  The soldier glanced away. “We did not check for that system, but it is likely, if the others are still up.”

  “Do you care to share whatever it is you are discussing?” Osric asked.

  “Not particularly.” Alden shot back as he worked on the tablet. “BFT is picking up the RfG platform, those ASMR are too encrypted, damned fey used that weird wind language of theirs. We’ll need to do a manual lock.”

  The soldier flinched. “You mean to fire it?”

  Alden turned a cold stare to his subordinate. “Yes Captain, I intend to fire it.”

  Morana laughed aloud. “Isn’t firing what got you in this predicament to begin with? As much as I hate those who reside upon it, this world is quite beautiful, and I’d rather not see it irradiated again.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Osric shouted. “What fire?”

  “He wants to use a weapon from before the collapse.” Morana said offhandedly. “To rain fallout plague on the world once again.”

  “First, its fallout sickness,” Alden said, aiming a finger first at Morana, then the city behind. “And second, RfG, or Rods from Gods, is a kinetic weapon. A big ass metal spear made of tungsten is shot planet side. Gravity does all the work, no warhead, no rads.”

  Osric frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “I understood barely half of that.”

  Alden shook his head in irritation. “Its gonna blow up the fucking walls.”

  “That would certainly make this less of a hassle.” Osric relented. “But can these weapons, the same that made the Ithanian Scar and Eurithanian Rift, truly be controlled?”

  “Those were different platforms.” Alden grumbled before turning his attention back to the Captain. “Send a scout team fifteen clicks south of the walls and set up a ping.”

  “Sir?”

  “I want the walls to fall, not blow up the whole damn city. Not yet at least.”

  The captain nodded. “Understood.”

   “Why are you so eager?” Morana teased.

  Alden shrugged and retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his chest pocket. “I dunno.”

  “I thought you finished them?”

  Alden looked over at Morana from the corner of his eye as he lit the cigarette, flicking his lighter closed as he exhaled a stream of smoke. “I always have one left, it’s my signature. As for that city,”

  Alden pointed his cigarette off in the direction of Marquez. “I ain’t never liked that fucking city, so I’ma destroy it.”

  Morana waved her hand over a patch of bare soil, a vine grew and entangled around itself as it formed into a chair, with bright spring flowers ornamenting it. Morana plopped down with a sigh, the chair acted as a cushion and began to rock gently.

  “They’re on the move again…”

  Osric rolled his eyes and silently excused himself as the rest of the soldiers geared up around them. Alden raised his eyebrow, confused by Morana’s sudden change in demeanor as he tried to follow her wistful gaze towards the horizon.

  “The animals return to their natural habitats.”

  “Those aren’t animals Morana; you must be the first and only person to even consider them as such.”

  She leaned back, her hair dangled in the snow as she stared into the canopy. She waved her hand in the air; a flurry of snowflakes fell upon her. She sat and stared melancholically into the barren branches laden with snow and the grey skies beyond. Her lipstick turned from red to black and her eyes darkened, as if copious amounts of mascara were applied. Her skin lost all pigmentation, becoming white as the dead.

  “So you’re just all four rolled into one now are you?” Alden sneered.

  Morana chuckled, though black tears rolled down her cheeks. “No, pieces, echoes, but even those have begun to fade. I am death, remember?” Morana lolled her head to face him and Alden staggered a step back under her gaze.” Or have you forgotten how your people so forsook them in a bid to unseat me, and later, seek my favor?”

  Alden slung a rifle over his shoulder and slammed the crate shut. “You got me confused with another lifetime lady. It’s time to go.”

  “…Just wait till they pass.” Morana whispered with a melancholic lilt. “They mean no one any harm. Besides…”

  Alden waited for the completion of her sentence, but seconds passed in awkward silence. “Well, finish the thought.”

  “…I can feel his presence, and the longer I can avoid his malevolence the better.” Morana shuddered and hugged herself tightly. “He brings the worst out of us all.”

  Alden smirked as he took another drag of his cigarette and flicked it into a nearby snow bank. “You can’t forget, no matter how long you wait. I’d much rather get it done with and be out of this cold.”

  “Not yet.” Morana snarled. “I want to wait a bit longer…”

  Alden shrugged. “Whatever. You’re the boss right?”

* * *

  Aichlan opened the door leading to the bedroom, and a cloud of steam billowed out after him as he towel dried his hair. He and his officers had been set up in the east wing, the part of the palace that had housed Silex’s greatest diplomats and dignitaries, artists and writers alike. Intricate carvings in organic curves and whiplashes adorned the walls of his room, with colorful stained glass with floral motifs repeated throughout the space. Nymphs in various states of frolicking and undress adorned the room via painting and ceiling art, someone had gone to great lengths to copy the styles of Aes Sidhe.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Ashe sat before the roaring fireplace, the hood of her cloak pulled over her head, heavy shadows cast over her face as the flames danced before her. A nearby songstone upon the end table played soft music from a distant concert hall. Aichlan paused to watch her as she mimed conducting with her fingers. He could not recall being so in love with anyone, not even Renata.

  “Aren’t you getting sick of wearing that thing?” Aichlan asked, causing her to jump in surprise.

  “It smells good…”

  “I suppose…”

  He tossed his towel over the back of a chair and pulled a long sleeved cotton shirt over his head, the firelight briefly illuminating the darkened scars that marred his body. She gently caressed his scars, with concern in her delicate touch and love in her tender gaze.

  “It’s comforting.” She lowered the hood as he pulled on a pair of pants. “Daen’t ye like it? Do ye niver get homesick?”

  “You’ll see your home again Ashe, as for me, I wouldn’t know where to begin. My home is wherever I may roam.”

  She flung a decorative pillow at him as a smile spread across his lips. “Daen’t mock me!”

  “I would never.” Aichlan casually poured himself a drink.“So, when’s it due?”

  “Mistmoon.” Ashe froze, her smile and laughter replaced by horror as the soft string quartet emanated from the stone.

  “Hmm, a spring birth.” Aichlan nodded. “That bodes well does it not?”

  “But, how…” her shock turned to anger as she clenched her fist and pounded it into the armrest. “Alice.”

  “Aye, Alice. But don’t be cross with her, she didn’t say anything to me directly, I overheard her is all. Plus, I always had my suspicions.”

  “So you’re nae upset?”

  He took a seat with an exhausted groan and kicked his feet up on another chair. “I wouldn’t say that, but if I’d have known sooner, you’d be back in Vergas with the rest of the civilians. And I wouldn’t be sitting here enjoying your company.”

  A knock came at the door before a maid in the typical black and white laced uniform poked her head into the room. “Forgive my intrusion Lord General,”

  “No, it is quite alright, please enter.”

  The woman closed the door gently behind her as she bowed slightly. “His majesty has scheduled a meeting two days from now, time enough for your men to recuperate and your officers to make themselves presentable.”

  Aichlan scoffed at the choice of words, though it was expected. As it was presently, time was not as critical as he had once made it out to be. The reprieve could prove beneficial; the courtly life had become distant, as if they were another man’s memories. In order to acclimatize and prove his worthiness to lead an army, he would need to immerse himself once more in the culture of nobility. Nevertheless, the idea of waiting still did not bode well with him, despite his rationalization.

  “Very well. Thank you.”

  “It is my pleasure, however there is more. The Rhodarcian exchange officer would like to speak with you, privately.”

  He perked up at the mention of a Rhodarcian officer. He had been under the impression that Briternica was all but in ruin, if they had initiated an exchange program, they must be ready and able to go on the offensive. His father had all but assured him that his home kingdom was still standing, but he never asked about the rest. Surely some nation still stood, albeit upon broken legs.

  “She awaits you in the tea room, shall I escort you there mi’lord?”

  Aichlan turned to Ashe; she had raised her hood with a resigned look upon her face. “Wake me if I’m asleep when ye return Aichlan.”

  “I shall try and keep this brief.” Aichlan held out his hand, ushering the maid forward. “Lead the way Mademoiselle.”

  The woman bowed as she held the door and waved her arm for Aichlan to go on. Gas lamps in ornate bulbs and chandeliers resembling blossoming flowers and raindrops lit the hall. Paintings of landscapes and members of the royal family from ages past lined the walls. The furniture was equally ornate yet still tasteful, with autumn’s bounty in vases or bowls upon buffets that lined the wall at equal intervals. Aichlan picked up an apple, and rubbed it on his coat before taking a bite, unable to help but notice the maid’s nervous glances at him.

  “Is there a problem? Was this fruit not for eating?”

  “No my Lord, it’s just… I was wondering, no, forgive me.”

  He took another bite, even more curious about the woman’s strange behavior. “No, you can speak freely.”

  The woman blushed as she looked away, debating whether or not she should take him up on the offer. “That woman is, is she your wife?”

  He nearly choked on his apple, pausing to cough and clear his windpipe. “No, Dawn no, she’s… just the mother of my child…”

  “I, I had no idea such a thing was possible. Is she civil? Or are they truly as animals?”

  He could only imagine how the woman interpreted his expression as she blanched in the face and held up her hands in an attempt to mitigate her comment. “Please, forgive me, I meant no disrespect to my lord, it is just we have stories of those from Rhode and I never actually saw one until today is all…”

  “Just take me to this Rhodarican officer.”

  Aichlan himself had never even heard of the Colby-Nau before moving to Elysia. Even then, it was only from merchants who went to trade. He heard they were temperamental, also a great deal many tales of sexual conquest that seemed dubious at best. What kind of rumors had circulated in this region regarding them? Albeit a secretive people, and warlike… He would just need to be vigilant in dispelling any bigoted assumptions regarding his friends and now family.

  The maid stopped at a door and knocked several times. She stood anxiously and wiped her palms off on her apron as she giggled nervously in the tense silence. She reached up to knock again just when the doors cracked open, jumping with a startled squeak before stepping aside to introduce Aichlan.

  “My lady, this is General Aichlan…” the maid paused embarrassedly, having forgotten who it was she was presenting. “He arrived with the army earlier today…”

  “Thank you, you may go.” Came the heavily accented reply of a woman on the other side of the door.

  The door opened and there stood Siegrun in a sapphire and emerald dinner dress, her hair pinned up with chopsticks at the foot of a long table. “Good evening general, I trust your accommodations are to your likings?”

  “Yes, quite so, and you are?”

  “Forgive me,” Siegrun tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she extended her hand. “First lieutenant Siegrun Wolfmother of the Rhodarcian Mage knights.”

  “General Aichlan of Westfaire; Grand Master of The Order of Dawn, Commander of the Remnant Army of Runandia.” Aichlan smirked, wondering if that was indeed her real name.

  He tried to conceal his self-satisfaction at trumping her title with his own, but it seems the awe was lost to her. She opened the door fully, and motioned for him to enter.

  “I was hoping this can be a candid meeting, free of the pomp and frills that such gatherings can have during the daylight hours.”

  “I would like nothing more.”

  Siegrun poured a cup of coffee. “Would you care for a cup?”

  Aichlan held up his hand. “No thank you, it’s a bit late for me.”

  “That it is, but I’ve a long night ahead of me.” She pulled out a chair and took a seat before stirring in the cream and sugar. “First and foremost to ease your concerns, Aes Sidhe is well, casualties were limited to the military. The cities were mostly bypassed.”

  “And the rest of Briternica?” Aichlan took a seat and placed his apple core on a platter.

  “His majesty king Céolsige has organized our counter attack, Catharone has filled the void left by The Order, but the barrier has failed so I am told, and Rhodarcium has had to step in for their crushed military. The bastards struck hard, but they failed to finish what they started.”

  “Their commander is a man named Osric, his goals lay in Elysia, and his sole purpose was to open the Black Gate. I faced him in Rhode, where he stole an artifact, a phoenix egg.” He added digesting the news he had just received.

  “What is a phoenix?”

  “A giant bird that has some power, the Rhodeans worship it.” He explained offhandedly.

  “How savage; and strange that this man should desire it.”

  Aichlan rolled his eyes and chose to ignore her comment. “Why else did you wish to see me?”

  She had been casting sidelong glances his way the entire evening, blushing when he made eye contact. He had dismissed it as simple infatuation, but was beginning to think it was something else. Something about her eyes was familiar to him, as well as annoying.

  “I wish to know what you’ve seen during your travels, I can tell you about the eastern front, but this region is unknown to me. His majesty plans upon reclaiming the abandoned cities, and I have not faced these monstrosities as you have. Laelianus evacuated the cities, yet the expected attack never came and the dusk spawn that moved in must be driven out so the people can return to their homes. I have witnessed the way the Xanaviens wage war, but those of Duvachellé have not.”

  Siegrun sipped her coffee and stared off into space as she played with her spoon. “I remember how much of a shock their tactics were, I can only imagine how these beasts do battle.”

  “Hm. So you want for me to lead them?” He inquired, sensing ulterior motives.

  “…I do not know what his majesty wishes to discuss with you, but he will not volunteer any service unless he receives something in return. He is shrewd in that way.” She replied non-committal.

  He smirked as he leaned forward, folding his hands before his face. “Then he has not changed in the years since we’ve first met.” He took a crumpet from the tray. “I will acquiesce. But I sense there is more.”

  “…You are quite astute. Rumors are that the Priestess still lives, mostly from your camp. Is there any validity to these claims?”

  Aichlan finished the pastry, despite the late hour, they had been made fairly recently and were still warm. He looked up, she still awaited an answer, yet he knew he could not give her one. In reality, was it not because he did not want to have one? Be she still alive or long passed, his life would be infinitely complicated as a result, in fact it already was. He could never return to the life he once had, not now especially since Ashe carried his child.

  “General?”

  “She lives, I have it on good authority that Osric keeps her alive, though for how much longer or to what ends, I do not know.”

  “Upon whose authority?”

  “The Priestess’ aide and Osric’s sister. The former was lost in the Port of Romance; the latter is a valued member of this, my, army.”

  Siegrun set down her cup and leaned back, and tapped her finger upon the mahogany table as she mused. “…Who are you Sir Aichlan? What drives you to pursue this path?”

  Aichlan paused to consider her odd query. “Vengeance, duty, flimsy pretexts when the true cause has been forgotten. I have been swept up by the bloodlust, made the impersonal personal. Inertia drives me, what about you lieutenant?”

  Siegrun sat in silence for several moments, a blank yet purposeful stare on her face. “It is late general; I trust you’ll want an early start in refitting your armies. His majesty has extended a line of credit in excess of five hundred thousand. I was informed that the Cardinal you travel with handles procurement of supplies, I hope it is alright that I had it delivered to her.”

  “It’s not my money.” Aichlan stood with a knowing grin upon his face as he pushed in his chair and headed for the door.

  “The stories of General Garrick’s accomplishments during the war are spoken of with reverence and awe, despite him being a bitter enemy. I must admit, you are not at all what I expected.”

  Aichlan paused at the door, his hand upon the handle. “Give Izarius my regards, Wolfmother… you should be more subtle.” Aichlan opened the door and closed it gently behind him.

  “But it is my name…” she mumbled, though Aichlan was already gone.

* * *

  Aichlan paused and leaned against the doorway, before him impatiently stood Laelianus. He was hastily dressed and disheveled in appearance, and his eyes held an uncharacteristic manic glint.

  “Your majesty, how unexpected, however your message regarding the meeting time has already been delivered.”

  “Feigned formalities do neither of us justice Aichlan. You have members of The Order traveling with you, is there a nun by the name of Clarissa among them?”

  The suddenness of his inquiry struck Aichlan as odd, though not unusual for one who wanted for nothing. What concerned Aichlan was why Laelianus was concerned with Clarissa’s whereabouts. She had spoken about having consorts with the former Duke, but Laelianus did not bear the look of one craving a woman’s touch.

  “No,” he paused, taking in Laelianus’ relieved expression. “She is Cardinal now.”

  The color drained from his face as he stumbled back, bumping into a table behind him. Aichlan knew this was more than the fear a man has when a jilted lover returns to town. He stepped forward, but Laelianus held up his hand for him to stay where he was.

  “That is impossible, she was but a nun. She was not even a very good one, there must be some mistake.” Laelianus rambled, mostly speaking to himself.

  “No, there is no mistake; I elevated her myself after her performance during a battle against the fiend Osric in Rhode.”

  Aichlan could see the unfettered rage flash in the king's eyes, and watched as Laelianus swallowed his fury to force a calm face with some effort. “Is it true that Lucien travels with you?”

  “Yes, what is this about?”

  “It is imperative that you send him to me Aichlan, I cannot go to them as I have far too much scheduled tomorrow, but I need for you to send for him.”

  Before Aichlan could question or respond to his request, Laelianus was storming down the hall, deaf to the world around him. Aichlan turned and walked away in the opposite direction, even if he were to disregard the king’s request, -and he had every intent to do just this- it was inevitable that the two would meet regardless. The question was would it be detrimental to his cause, or was there something greater at stake?