Twelfth of Nirakos

Year 1182 of Emancipation

Adrianna opened her eyes and let them adjust to the low light. The candles had burned out long ago in the humble house on the outskirts of Svaleta. There was no breeze but the moonlight coming through the window cast a shadow over her bare body as she lay unmoving on the bed. She savoured the silence before looking over at the man she had chosen to spend the night with. He was a bard, a surprisingly handsome, albeit older, man who had just left a wife he had met in the Ikari Dominion. For a moment Adrianna wondered how he’d managed to find a human wife amongst the orcs, but that was irrelevant now. Everything about him was, really. He had been a passionate lover, the latest in a series of men over the last few days in Svaleta. Unfortunately for him, being the last, Adrianna had given in to all of her desires that night. He had satisfied her more natural desires, and then found out just who he had taken to bed. She smiled as she took in the scent of blood that filled the house, and ran her eyes down the ruined body that lay beside her.

When Falkar had given his gift to Adrianna and Kane, it had massively increased their natural appetites. Some were easier to fulfil than others. She may have fulfilled one over the past few nights, but there was something else that pulled at her, and it would not let her go. This meaningless bard had paid the price, but she needed more. With a heavy sigh, Adrianna slipped out of the bed and found a bucket of water to clean herself. She made her way through the house collecting her clothes and dressed before stepping outside. She sniffed the air and followed Kane’s scent to a nearby tavern where he sat alone, clearly waiting for her.

“Feeling better?” he asked when she took a seat. She shook her head. He gave a pained smile. “I know the feeling. There is a town near here. They call it Scamia. We can be there by dawn.”

“Is that part of the plan, brother?” Adrianna asked playfully. Kane’s smile became more genuine.

“He never ruled out spreading terror,” he pointed out. “He just gave it a purpose.”

“In that case, shall we?”

***

Arak rose early that morning, leaving his wives to keep snoring in the darkness as he slipped out of the compound and headed off on foot. Belkai’s father lived a good three hours’ walk from the Order, and Arak needed the time to process the conversation that they’d had the previous night. It had seemed so simple to pledge the Order’s support to Belkai. They would need to deliver that message somehow without the Arcane taking note. That would be the difficult part. If their wrath had already begun to be poured out on Svaleta for Ashelath’s destruction, then any movement by Belkai’s allies would be carefully watched. A misstep would lead to outright warfare with the Arcane’s agents. Arak was courageous, but he was no fool. He had confidence that the Order could defeat any enemy of this world, but he didn’t know what the Arcane would unleash against them should the conflict widen. They needed to rally the clans – again, subtly, without drawing the Arcane’s attention. He would have one of his wives visit the Clan Sar. The orcs were not like many other races. Women were highly regarded, often far more brutal in battle than their men. Arak’s wives in particular had a reputation that was barely outshone by his own. They would gain the Sar’s hearing; of that he was certain.

The sun was just starting to rise when Arak found his way to Androv’s home. He hesitated for a moment, not sure how to start any conversation. He forced the doubt from his mind and gave two short knocks. He heard someone mumble, then the door was opened by a fifty-year old man with tanned skin and rough hands. His dark hair was cut short, and a few days’ worth of stubble marked his face. He was already dressed for his day’s labours, and frowned at the orc standing before him in steel armour, a parchment in one hand.

“Can I help you?” the man asked. Like Belkai, his accent was strange, a mix of Ikari with a human tongue that Arak didn’t recognise.

“My name is Arak,” he said. “I come from the Brilhardem.”

“The combat trainer,” Androv said, and glanced around the streets. He stepped aside and motioned for Arak to come inside. “Belkai thinks highly of you.”

“It’s mutual.” It was a humble home, Arak thought, befitting a man of lower means. Androv had made plenty of gold serving the Ikari, but apparently chose not to spend it on luxuries. The orc respected that, and made no comment as he sat on an aging lounge. Androv poured them both a mug of beer, then sat on a straw chair across from his guest.

“I have not heard from Belkai in two years,” Androv told him. “The elf, Brimur, has assured me that she is well.”

“Things have been…complicated,” Arak replied. He placed Belkai’s letter face down on the table between them. “I believe this should explain things.”

As Androv looked down at the parchment Arak continued, “I spoke with her just a week ago. She is doing well. She misses you. She never intended to hurt you.”

“Is she in danger?”

Arak hesitated, unsure about how to answer. He hid his pause by taking a mouthful of beer. “Not in the immediate future. But one is never free of danger in this Order.”

Androv nodded thoughtfully. “This was never the life I wanted for her.”

“If I may ask,” Arak said, “Why did you ever come to the Dominion?”

Androv gave a sad smile. “I lived to the west of Wexburg. There is still a scattering of small tribes out there beyond any national boundaries. My wife and I were happy then. We were pregnant twice before Belkai, but we lost both of the children before they were born.”

“I’m sorry,” Arak said honestly.

Androv grunted. “We were desperate. We sought the Arcane, we sought Elkur, we spoke to prophets. Eventually we became pregnant a third time.”

“And Belkai made it.”

“She did,” Androv said with a sad smile. “We named her ‘soft petal’. But there was something different about her. I could never understand what it was, but it was almost as if she didn’t belong to us.”

“She always had that different spirit,” Arak confirmed.

“I believe that Elkur gave her to us for a purpose,” Androv continued as if he hadn’t heard. “But the tribe didn’t accept that. We left and came to the Dominion. I could pay my way, and we wanted the seclusion. My wife decided after a few years that she wanted a different path.”

“Belkai has told me that story. You don’t need to revisit it,” Arak assured him. Androv nodded his thanks.

“Belkai has a call upon her life,” Androv said. “I don’t know what it is, but she was never meant to live this life that I’m building. I accepted that a long time ago.”

“She may have found that calling.” Arak placed his mug on the table and stood. Androv didn’t move as he stared at the letter. The orc took a deep breath. “Whatever she wrote, remember that she loves you.”

Without another word, he turned and left Androv to sip at his beer as he thought over what he had brought to the surface. It was with a trembling hand that he turned the letter over and began to read.

***

The sun was rising slowly as Kane and Adrianna made their way through the empty streets of Scamia, only a few miles southeast of the city of Svaleta. There was no value to the town that they knew of, just a stopping point for those who travelled between the Kingdom and Lustria. It was certainly no agricultural centre, Kane thought, with not a single soul in sight even at this time of morning. They had spent the past few days enjoying the pleasures of Svaleta, and the silence of this town was almost shocking. The only saving grace was an older building with a banner that declared, ‘The Golden Hunt’. It was a little ambitious for Kane’s taste, but the laughter from within confirmed that they had found the inn. Adrianna shrugged.

“I’m thirsty enough to take it,” she confirmed, and Kane led the way inside. Not surprisingly, it was fairly empty. Two big men sat near the back of the room, lumberjacks by the looks of them. Kane studied them for a moment, then turned to a group of women seated around the central fire. Their clothing both showed their occupation and made Adrianna’s revealing dress look like a symbol of purity, and after enjoying the view for a few moments Kane turned away again to face the tavern owner.

“You look like you could both use a rest,” the man called out as they came closer. “Travelling far?”

“Just from Svaleta,” Adrianna replied, and as she sat on a barstool made no effort to adjust the dress that rode up her thigh. She was getting restless – as was Kane, if he were to be honest. Delorax had been inflexible in the broad outline of what he wanted done but had left plenty of room for them to indulge their baser desires. He knew them far too well to attempt to restrict them from certain pursuits. In his mind, more terror unleashed upon the Kingdom would be to their advantage.

“What can I get you?” the man asked, breaking Kane out of his thoughts.

“Just two honeymeads,” Adrianna answered for them both. “Make them strong.”

“As you wish.”

Adrianna glanced over at the lumberjacks, both of whom gave her leering smiles. She ignored them but noted Kane’s lingering glance on the ‘ladies’ around the fire. They were returning the look, and Adrianna knew that it was about more than payment. She stifled a laugh as she took the drink that was handed to her.

“What’s so funny?” Kane asked, forcing himself to turn away from the women.

“You are, my brother,” she said with a grin. “A whole town, and you find the ladies of the night. The only ones who wouldn’t take any effort.”

“Would it make any difference?”

Adrianna smiled. “I suppose not. Not today.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The truth was, she had been satisfied with the men in Svaleta, as Kane had been with the women. That was one of their urges sorted. But the other, deeper craving was at least twice as strong than any sexual lust. That was the nature of Falkar’s gift to them – everlasting life and appetites that could never be truly quenched. Adrianna had never been bothered by the lack of satisfaction. That simply extended the ecstasy. So now Scamia would learn the depths of those desires.

Kane didn’t get another chance to respond as the two lumberjacks wandered over. Kane excused himself and walked away, much to their surprise.

“Little boy,” one of them muttered, but Kane paid no attention as he made his way over to the fire.

“He a friend of yours?” the larger of the two asked, taking Kane’s spot.

“Brother.” Adrianna shrugged, eyes locked on the bar as she took another drink. “You got a name?”

“Akmar. My friend here is Braxon.”

The man’s friend grunted, and Adrianna rolled her eyes. If you’re going to use fake names, at least make them interesting.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she muttered, still not looking their way.

“Got a name, pretty one?” It was ‘Braxon’ who spoke. He didn’t see Adrianna’s smile as she replied,

“You won’t need it.”

Kane looked up from the woman he was speaking to in time to see Adrianna’s head jerk up. Sooner than I expected, he thought. Not that it wasn’t at least partially expected. Adrianna came to her feet, the barstool toppling to the floor. Both lumberjacks took a step back, expecting her to lash out. She would, Kane knew, but not in the way that they expected. Already her nails were expanding, her limbs thickening as reddish-brown hair grew. She rose above the men who stepped back with eyes filled with fear. It took only a few seconds for the transformation to be complete, and Kane admired the beast that stood before him. The women screamed, and Kane turned to them as he felt the process beginning in himself.

‘Akmar’ took a faltering step back as the werewolf moved towards him. He tried to plead for his life, but nothing stopped the massive jaws that rushed towards his face. Braxon didn’t last much longer, pinned to the ground before he could run. His scream died as razor-sharp fangs crushed through his throat. Adrianna straightened, turned to the tavern owner, and leapt at him as Kane turned on the women who had expected a very different morning. By then Adrianna had smashed down the tavern door and leapt through the window of a nearby house. All that she could feel was hunger – a desperate need to kill, to taste blood, to feel life disappear in her claws. She tore through the house, howling as she finally felt the release of the bloodlust that had been building for far too long. She had tasted Arcane blood when she and Kane had tortured Belamin for two long hours and had gladly slaughtered Yulen where she stood. Scamia would now feel the fury of her bloodlust. Only two would survive to bring the news to Svaleta.

***

The defenders of Arborshire greeted the new day with relief that the darkness was gone. Rangir’s initial count had been wrong. Twenty Svaletans had fallen trying to stop the would-be assassins the night before. After counting the dead, he had collapsed into his bedroll, only to be awoken two hours later by Ertas, who shook him until he opened his eyes.

“Sleep is for the dead,” Ertas whispered. “Come, we have visitors.”

Rangir followed his regiment commander to his tent. Stepping inside, he froze when he saw two elves standing against the far wall. His hand dropped to his sword but Ertas put a hand on his chest and shook his head.

“They come from our friend in the south.”

Rangir frowned, but let his hand drop to his side. “What news does she send?”

The elves glanced nervously at each other. The older one spoke first.

“Do you know the town named Solstia?”

Ertas visibly tensed. “I was born there.”

“Then I am truly sorry,” the elf said quietly. “They were attacked. There was only one survivor. She spoke of vampires.”

If they didn’t know any better, they would have thought that it was a joke. It was Rangir who spoke next. “Vampires? Are you certain?”

“The Svaletan Davos confirmed it.”

That was good enough for Ertas and Davos. They had worked with Davos’ partner and had learned his value.

“There is more,” the younger elf said. “The survivor warned that the two of you are a target. Whoever wiped out Solstia is seeking revenge for Belkai’s actions.”

“Against the Recluse or Ashelath?” Ertas asked.

“We don’t know,” the older one admitted. “But they will kill you next.”

“The Aliri are already trying,” Rangir pointed out.

“Worse things are coming for you,” the older elf told him. “Be on your guard. Until we find who is behind this, you are not safe.”

The elves bid farewell, and the Svaletans stared at each other in silence.

“I am sorry about Solstia,” Rangir finally said. Ertas nodded slowly and steadied his breathing.

“Make sure the guard is doubled,” he ordered. “Tell them that it’s because of last night’s raid. Make sure nothing makes it into this camp.”

“You believe the threat?”

Ertas shook his head. “After everything that we saw in that damned forest, Rangir, I’d believe anything that this Belkai woman said, even if she claimed that she’d seen unicorns on the roof of the King’s palace.”

***

Belkai probably wouldn’t have appreciated the vote of confidence that day. She had spent too much time sitting on her throne listening to different elves bring their needs to her attention. She still felt like a pretender sitting on an elven throne, giving them commands and acting like a queen. All of this because she wanted to rid herself of Ashelath. The world must have gone mad.

“You could use a drink,” Loranna said quietly enough not to startle her. Broken out of her reverie, Belkai glanced up as the Svaletan handed her a glass filled with golden liquid.

“Tell me that is wine,” Belkai laughed as she took at a sip. “Oh.”

“It’s a strong one,” Loranna agreed. “Fit for a lord, I would say.”

Belkai waved at Davos’ throne. Loranna hesitated, then sat. “I never thought I would sit with royalty.”

“I was a random woman in need a few weeks ago,” Belkai reminded her. “Let’s not get too caught up in my new title.”

“You know what you need to do, Belkai?”

“Go back to the Ikari?” Belkai raised an eyebrow, and Loranna laughed.

“The fact that you think they are easier to deal with than Narandir says all that I need to know,” she said. “You need to relax. Breathe. This is a privilege, Belkai. It’s not a prison.”

Belkai sighed. “I know, Loranna. It’s just been an insane few weeks.”

“Things will settle,” Loranna assured her. Now she had to change the subject, and she hesitated before speaking. “We need to talk about the vatriloi.”

“You want to know what I know?”

“That’s right.”

Belkai sipped her wine to buy herself time. “Ashelath did not speak of them, but the Order had information on them. They were people once until Falkar corrupted them. I don’t know where he found them. They shy away from the sun but at night they are ruthless. They’re tall, pale, and have wings.”

“They fly?”

“Short distances, at least,” Belkai confirmed. “And they’re said to be very strong. Stories say that they have been seen tearing apart cattle by hand.”

“They also say that only weapons made from the heart of the earth can kill them,” Loranna pointed out.

“That is likely a myth,” Belkai replied. “Dwarven blades are the strongest that I know of. If that’s the kind of craftsmanship required to kill them, then that would give birth to such a rumour.”

“Let’s hope that’s all that it is,” Loranna said. “Otherwise, if they attack Narandir we may not be able to stop them.”

“They won’t come here,” Belkai told her. “They came as a warning to me. I don’t know why Falkar would send them, but I could destroy them without needing a blade. They aren’t an assault force.”

“Falkar himself sent them?”

“No one else has authority over vatriloi,” Belkai said. “He sent them.”

“Belkai.” Both women turned at Lithmae’s voice. He gave Loranna a strange look when he saw her on the throne but passed it off as a human thing. “Davos has returned with that priestess, Sashai. He should be here in a few hours.”

Thank the gods for the senses of elves, Belkai thought. “Thank you, Lithmae.”

“Of course.”

Loranna waited until he was gone before she said, “I don’t think he appreciated me sitting here.”

Belkai laughed. “I am his lord, Loranna. He won’t say a word.”

Loranna shrugged. “The man needs a release. It could do him good to yell at the foreign lady.”

“I don’t think that’s what you want from him, is it?” Belkai smiled as she felt Loranna’s embarrassment. “I married a Lowborn, Loranna. I’m not going to judge you.”

“Next topic, please,” Loranna laughed and snatched the wine off Belkai. She took a mouthful and groaned. “To men and the problems they bring.”

They were still talking when Davos arrived with Sashai. Loranna left the throne with a sly grin and took her place behind Belkai as he sat down.

“You need to learn some respect,” he told Loranna, but with mirth in his voice. He turned to Belkai. “The Prophetess has a message for you but did not want to say it where the Arcane had influence. She sent Sashai as her messenger.”

“Again,” Belkai remarked, and nodded to Sashai. “You are getting quite familiar with this land, Priestess. We may have to build you a house here.”

The girl blushed faintly. “It would be my honour, Lord Belkai.”

Belkai’s eyes went a little colder as she asked, “What is it that the Prophetess wishes to tell us?”

“You know about Solstia, of course,” Sashai said. When they nodded, she recounted Siara’s vision to Belkai. She waited until she had processed it before continuing. “Ashelath set off a chain of events that he could not have predicted when he began this war. You left a power vacuum, Belkai. You know that much. But it seems that it has extended further than we could have imagined.”

“Yulen is dead,” Belkai announced, and everyone went silent.

“Yulen…the Arcane of Peace?” Loranna asked.

“That’s not the only thing she’s known for,” Davos said, the gleam in his eye making his point clear. But his face darkened as he turned to Belkai. “What do you mean, dead?”

“Shontelle said that the woman who commanded the vatriloi claimed to have killed Yulen.” Belkai ignored the stares as she spoke. “I believe it.”

Sashai nodded. “Whoever this woman is had Falkar’s backing.”

“And Yulen would never approve such acts against an innocent village,” Belkai agreed. “She is – was – more powerful than people gave her credit for. She would have stopped it.”

“But why Solstia?” Loranna frowned. “The town means nothing.”

“Except that it’s close. Close enough to make us wary,” Davos said. “So it’s some sort of warning to Belkai. To what? Stay out of the powerplay? Do they think that Belkai will go after the other Arcane?”

“No mortal has ever killed one of the Arcane,” Sashai pointed out. “That will make them nervous. What I want to know is, who is this woman who killed Yulen?”

“Whoever she is, she’s a threat,” Davos said. He frowned. “What if she isn’t human? Not really?”

He told them of the strange scent that he had picked up outside Solstia, then froze. “I just realised…I smelled it in Svaleta. It was faint, but it was there. They’ve been in the city. They’re travelling. Maybe they’re investigating, searching?”

“We’re just guessing,” Belkai pointed out. “But would you recognise the scent again?”

“Without a doubt,” Davos confirmed.

“That is at least two Arcane dead,” Sashai said. “And the Arcane of the lower beasts has made the first move against us.”

“Whatever that first move is.” Belkai shook her head. “We’re not at war yet, but we have to entertain the possibility.”

No one had an answer to that. Still, the discussion continued into the night before they finally broke up. Davos and Belkai retired to their cabin, with Loranna trailing behind. When they were alone, Davos made his way to the bed and stripped down to his undergarments before laying down. Belkai joined him, wearing a traditional undershirt and short pants. Slipping into the bed, she pressed up against him and laid a hand on his chest. She kissed his bare shoulder, but he could feel the tension in her body.

“I don’t need to be Brilhardem to know that you’re nervous,” he said quietly.

“Something is brewing,” she whispered, focusing on gently running her hand across his chest. “I don’t know what it is, I don’t know what it means, but something is brewing. And it goes beyond a power play among the Arcane.”

“Isn’t that enough?” There was an edge of sarcasm in his voice as he ran his hand through her hair.

“Not in their minds.” Belkai grimaced. “The Arcane are just that – a mystery. They always have been, maybe even to themselves. But I do know that nothing is ever straightforward with them.”

“Life is messy,” Davos agreed. “But maybe not tonight.”

He let his hand run down her back, and she shivered before rolling on top of him and letting their bodies mould together.

“No,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him deeply. “Maybe not tonight.”