Eighth of Frostmaire
Belkai remembered little of the journey back to Narandir, though she would never forget the fires and devastation wrought across the land by Delorax’s wrath. Davos took her place assembling the survivors and organising their return to the Forest while she was seen to by Lustrian healers. Though not as skilled as the servants of the temple in Svaleta, they were efficient. Her wound was soon smeared with ointments and gels and wrapped in firm cloth. She rode with Davos, her body pressed up against his, having refused to be transported home in a cart. The stubbornness of mages, Davos thought, but he didn’t mind the company. Most of their dead were wrapped and piled on carriages provided by the Lustrians. The exception was Brimur, whose body was strapped to his horse as it was led by Arak.
Every town that they passed by had a fire burning. Whatever had happened in that valley – and Belkai had her suspicions – had extended at least across Lustria. Barilax soon went north with a detachment of orcs, fearing what had been done to the Dominion. To his credit, Arak stayed with Belkai. In this moment he thought as a Child of the Wind, not an Ikari. He rode beside Belkai and Davos, knowing enough to stay silent throughout the journey. Belkai needed to process her pain, and he pretended not to notice when Davos held her tight as she wept in her sleep each night.
The real surprise came when they crossed a bridge over the Artax River to enter Svaleta. The collection of serious-looking soldiers they expected, a symptom of the chaos spreading across the kingdoms. What was unexpected was the tall Svaletan woman in a white dress surrounded by half a dozen young men and women in blue robes and dresses. Davos didn’t need to be told to stop his horse near the group. He dismounted first, then helped Belkai down as she winced. She gave short bow to Siara, who looked across the bridge at their group with a sad look in her eye.
“So many left behind,” she said, then turned to Belkai. “It is good to see you, Belkai. We saw strange fires in the sky and feared the worst.”
“Svaleta was spared?” Davos asked, and Siara nodded gravely.
“Of that, at least,” she confirmed. “You would, of course, have heard of the dragon attack on the city. But we will recover, thanks to the Aliri. What happened in Lustria?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Belkai said. “But the mages need to meet. Will you travel with us?”
“If you have a spare horse.” Siara looked around doubtfully. Arak dropped down from his horse and bowed his head, quite an unusual gesture for an orc to give a human.
“You may ride with me, Milady.”
Siara hesitated, and Belkai laughed despite herself.
“Milady, this is Arak, the senior advisor to the Brilhardem,” she said as she struggled to calm herself. “You can trust him.”
The leader of the Order should make that introduction, Siara thought, but allowed the orc to lift her onto the horse. He sat behind her, careful to not do anything to make her fearful. The roads were mostly empty, most people too afraid of the dangers outside of their homes. They were surprised to find a small group living in Solstia, survivors of the attack on the capital who had sought a new start.
They reached Narandir in the early afternoon of the eighth of Frostmaire. A small group had gathered in the fields outside the Forest, alerted by elven scouts about their approach. Siara was gladdened to see Sashai, and the two went away to converse. The only person that Belkai took note of was Salatia, who saw the pain on her and Arak’s faces. To her credit, she stood tall and dignified as they approached.
“I am so sorry,” Belkai said softly, and took Salatia’s hands in her own. “He was the strongest-”
“No.” Salatia shook her head, her eyes glistening from the tears she held back. “No, don’t give me the heroic speech. I have seen too much death, Belkai, buried too many friends. There is no glorious death, nothing to ease the pain. My love is dead. That is all.”
Now her resolve shattered, and Belkai took her weight as she collapsed into her arms, shaking uncontrollably as she wept. Belkai held her friend tight against her, and soon their tears mixed on each other’s cheeks. Arak stood back and watched, one hand resting on the cloak covering Brimur.
“Welcome home, brother,” the orc whispered. “Walk your eternal fields in peace.”
***
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
The atmosphere was solemn as Belkai marched into the clearing flanked by Arak and Daria. To her surprise, and Arak’s amusement, the gathered mages rose to their feet as she made her way to her customary place before Ashelath’s ashes. There were twenty assembled, the heads of each Order and some chosen advisors. No Narandir elf was in sight, though Belkai could sense some nearby. There were few real secrets in the Forest. She took her place between Siara and the Correlate mages, but before she could speak, Arak took a step forward and bellowed,
“Hail Belkai Androva, Lady of the Brilhardem.”
Belkai looked around the group, but sent a jolt of pain through Arak’s chest. He grunted in amusement but showed no other sign of noticing.
“Then it is true,” said a member of the Herders. “Brimur has fallen.”
“The rumours are true,” Belkai announced. “He is to be buried by his wife, alone. Such was her request. Brimur passed his mantle on to me.”
“Then hail to the Lady of the Brilhardem.” It was Lasiri who spoke, and she was the first to bow. She would never do it again, Belkai knew, but one must honour the head of an Order upon their ascension. Her declaration was echoed across the field, and she fought off the panic that momentarily ran through her. For that brief second she regretted restricting the meeting to mages, wishing that Davos was there, but she quickly pushed that thought aside.
“What happened in Lustria?” Grishwar asked once there was silence.
Belkai nodded to Arak, who cleared his throat before speaking. “Delorax brought an army from another world, or another land at least. Including a giant beast that could not be stopped. Except by the Ascendant, it seems.”
“The Ascendant?” a Spellcaster asked, his voice hesitant. Belkai was surprised to see that it was Raman. Despite their savage losses, he had made it through the dwarven assault. “That was a myth. A dream of the dwarves in a futile longing for former glory.”
“It was a warning, not a promise, that they received,” Belkai told him. She frowned, and in a moment of honesty she confessed, “I do not understand this power that I have. But it is intertwined with Narandir itself.”
“Wexburg has many tomes that have been forgotten to time,” Raman said. “The Song of the Ascendant is known to us and has been studied for many years.”
“What have you learned?” Belkai asked.
“It is not magic, at least not in the sense that we understand it,” Raman said. “It is a unique gifting designed to confront supernatural powers.”
“Just say the Arcane, Raman,” Lasiri said, and rolled her eyes. “One may name their enemy in a war.”
“It goes beyond the Arcane,” Raman shot back. “Tales tell of more ancient beings that still slumber in the earth. Some believe that the Palians woke one, and that is why the Arcane cast them down. Whether true or not, the Ascendant is sent to protect the mortal realm from such threats.”
Belkai frowned. “Are those tales true?”
“I don’t know,” Raman admitted. “But you have held the weapons of the Watchers. You have wielded the fires of Belamin and commanded shades. These should not be possible.”
Belkai didn’t answer as she tried to absorb his words. This was far beyond what she had expected to hear. She listened only half-heartedly as the others spoke.
“Delorax may see the threat,” Siara was saying, “but he will not stop. He wants this power for his own.”
“An Arcane was never meant to hold this power,” Raman replied. “It would be the end of everything.”
The end of everything. Belkai’s heart raced and she felt like she was going to vomit. She barely noticed as Daria put a hand on her shoulder. Arak glanced over, saw how pale she’d become, and made up an excuse as Daria led her away from the clearing.
***
Davos found her at the lake, sitting in the wet grass with her legs in the still water. He didn’t say a word as he kicked off his shoes and sat beside her. He put an arm around her and she collapsed into him, resting her head on his shoulder. She didn’t cry, but he could feel her struggling to control her breathing.
“It’s okay,” he whispered as he held her close. “You are safe.”
“What did Arak tell you?” Belkai finally asked, her voice weak.
“Enough,” he answered. “Enough to know your burden.”
“This is all my fault,” she whispered. “I have unleashed evil onto our world just as Ashelath planned. He always knew my destiny.”
“Ashelath was a fool, Belkai,” Davos replied, and squeezed her arm comfortingly. “He never knew who you are.”
Belkai buried her face further into his neck. “You don’t understand, Davos. Whatever land Delorax brought those creatures from, he has somehow merged it with our own. He has made our lands one. And he did it to punish us.”
“Punish?”
“I fear that if Barilax survives her journey, she will find that the Dominion is gone. And so are any Brilhardemwho were in the Citadel.” Davos felt her warm tears pooling on his skin and he ran a hand through her hair. “I used to pray for Elkur’s intervention, you know? I used to ask him to set things right. Now I find out that that I am that intervention. And I don’t know if I can live with that.”
“You will,” Davos assured her. “You were born for this.”
“Damnit, Davos, I don’t want this. I want a life with you. In peace. I don’t even know what that means, but I want it.”
“You will,” Davos said. “I promise you.”
“Not as long as Delorax lives.” Belkai pulled her head back and wiped her cheeks. “There will be no peace.”
Davos put a finger on her chin and turned her to look at him. “Then you need to be the Ascendant. Embrace this, and put an end to this war.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Davos shrugged. “It’s our only shot, my love. I say we take it.”