The Spirit of Revenge (35 page)

I found myself…crying. Crying for what? Nothing it seemed, or so I told myself. I rode for a lifetime, away from my troubles and heartaches. Yet, the problem was not behind me or before me; it was in me.

At last, I arrived home and entered in, only to find an empty feeling within its walls.

A man sat behind my table and revealed himself as Alanis, leader of the Iscara, the man who took everything from me.

Alanis told me he had been waiting for me. I looked at him with confusion and reached for my sword. He remained motionless, his eyes watching me for a while. I remained silent.

He then asked what it was he could take from me, what mattered most to me. I looked up at him, realizing what I truly cherished.

I pulled my sword out and pressed it under his chin, my fingers itching to end his wretched life. He simply laughed and told me to give chase if I was to save Raven from her fate. I looked at him with disbelief and rage. I sheathed my sword and returned to my horse.

Killing his words in my mind, I turned sharply back to the trails. The veil before my eyes fell at last; the words of the Iscara tore me from my darkness. I rediscovered my senses, my feelings, the love I had discarded. I had blinded myself to feeling as a safeguard against pain and disgrace. Now, I once again found myself naked to the truth.

I knew not why Alanis and his Knights rode out to kill Raven, but I had to stop them.

I rode without rest, without ceasing. I rode for redemption. Evening fell on the last day of my desperate ride, and Izadon rose before me.

The sun set behind me as I rode through her gates. I galloped down the main road as fast as my horse could carry me. In my haste, I made a fatal flaw in observation that night.

No one roamed the city’s streets, not a soldier guarded her gates. The city was empty and silent, much as this night, a heavy and impenetrable silence. This lapse in my judgment would play the first notes of my guilty song.

I came upon the palace with fear. Through the dark, I perceived two Iscara.

Without hesitation, I rode towards them and leapt from my saddle, bringing them to the earth with my sword. I disposed of them and kicked in the broken palace doors.

Armed men rushed at me from every side as I crossed the hall. I struck down every man that stood in my way, painting the walls red with their blood. I killed and killed, and the more that attacked me, the more I slaughtered. I left none alive, and I would do it again a thousand fold.

I left behind the scarlet halls and crossed the court, but as I came to the stairs, a scream filled my heart with dread. I rushed forward and ascended the steps, coming out into the night.

Five men stood before me with swords drawn. Alanis stood with his back to me, overlooking the city.

‘What do you want from me?’ I asked.

He told me they had been searching for me for many years, and finally they found the key to bringing me in.

I did not understand what he said, but I raised my sword to kill. Alanis turned to me and stepped aside, revealing a figure limp at his feet. Tears and blood streamed down her face as she stared at me for a long, disbelieving moment.

I knew who it was. She said nothing, but through the darkness, I knew the person behind those eyes.

I cried out her name and rushed forward. Two of the men attempted to stop me but I killed them instantly. The other two rushed at me with raised swords and I quickly deflected both, soon dropping them where they stood.

Alanis drew his sword and we locked eyes for what seemed a lifetime, waiting for the other to make a move. Our blades then met with a flurry of sparks.

We fought with such blinding rage, a fierce cloud of sparks about us. In my bloodlust, I quickly defeated him. I threw his sword over the wall and tried to land the fatal blow, but he threw himself towards Raven.

Time around us slowed to a stand still. I let out a cry, but it fell silent in my ears as I flung myself forward. Flames leapt from his outstretched hands. A scream echoed across the city and through my heart.

I swung my sword and a light shot across the causeway as my blade struck Alanis, sending him tumbling over the wall.

The flames around Raven died as his scream fell silent on the street below. The smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils as I fought to accept what I saw before me.

Raven lay more than dead at my feet, skin melting from her very bones. The light of her eyes had disappeared, her body now little more than smoldering shadow. I knelt down beside her and turned over her limp body. Her clothes were burnt to nothingness, mere ash against her charred skin.

I leaned over her and whispered her name, hoping she still had the life in her to hear my despairing cry. I wrapped my arms around her and carried her down the stairs.

I knelt before the pool we are sitting by now and lowered her into the water, daring to believe it would sooth her pain.

I stepped into the water beside her, letting the blackened shell of her body float weightless before me. The ashes of her skin and clothes fell from her, turning the water a sickly black.

I touched her face, her skin clinging to my hands. Suddenly, her eyes fluttered. Flesh broke apart and she looked up at me. The moon reflected in the white pools of her eyes, beauty, even in death.

I leaned over her, my tears breaking the waters, my love dying in my arms. Her lips parted and a feeble gulp of air struggled to fill her lungs. In a voice fainter than a whisper, she muttered her last words, ‘I loved you, Malecai.’ The last breath remaining to her died with those words…and she passed from this earth.

I stared at her lifeless body in disbelief, cradling her closely. I begged for her eyes to open once more, but of course, they did not.

Her last words were not I love you… the words of fairy tales and happily-ever-afters. My story was that of shame, a story worthy of a loveless end. I had broken her heart and torn it to pieces to fill her every moment with heartache. She no longer loved me, and it was my fault.

I gently closed her eyes and let her fall from my arms. Her body sank through the ashes and fell beneath the surface, coming to a rest at the bottom. I looked into her burnt face through the depths of the water for as long as I could muster.

I slowly turned and rose from the pool. I picked up my bloodied sword and grimaced with disdain. Nothing ever tasted so bitter.

I tore my gaze from her and ran up the stairs and across the causeway. I rushed over the bodies and climbed atop the wall. I stood on the edge, overlooking the city many yards below.

It would be best, I told myself. It would be the only way. My life had lost its meaning. I once felt love, tasted it. And now it had been taken from me.

I felt the cool embrace of wind on my skin. The moon’s light filled my eyes, and somehow…I felt Raven in me, our hearts beating as one.

I looked over the city street below and knew I could not muster that final step.

I climbed off the wall and looked back over the palace. I knew what was right. It was my fault she was dead; I could not save her. I knew the only way I could find atonement for my mistakes was to punish myself.

I vowed myself to pain and sorrow that night, as endless punishment for my mistakes. I had to feel the pain she felt before her death. I had to shed every tear she shed. I had to feel every bit of the pain and agony I had caused her…”

Malecai stopped and gazed pensively into the moonlit pool before them. He paused for a long moment, his shoulders heaving as he fought to speak. Cain remained silent, waiting for his friend to continue.

“Never forget what it is you hold onto most in this world, Cain, because I did…and I lost it.”

T
he Warriors stood beside the pool as the morning sun slowly rose, their rucksacks shouldered and weapons in hand. They stood in silence, the court empty of all but them. Soon, footsteps echoed over the stones as several guards approached.

Creedoc passed the pool and stood before them. “I will follow my brother’s wishes and send my men to Morven…they should arrive within the fortnight.” The Warriors nodded in understanding.

“Do not forget the pledge you have made, Warriors,” he continued. “You have vowed to serve the Alliance to whatever end. The battle for Tarsha is upon us, I can feel it. Do not turn from the paths you have chosen…it may be the doom of us all.” His gaze descended upon Malecai with a slight frown of his lips.

“We must be on our way,” Cain informed the King as he sheathed his long sword.

“Of course, I wish to delay you no further. I bid you farewell, friends. I will be at Morven soon. Send my brother my regards.”

The Warriors shook his hand in turn and bowed curtly. With that, the King and his guards turned. Creedoc gave a final wave and ascended the steps to the causeway.

Malecai glanced over his shoulder at the pool, the light of dawn flickering against the water’s surface. Cain stopped and looked over his shoulder at him as the others entered the palace.

“I will never see this pool again,” He said simply as he approached Cain. Cain stared after him, confused. Malecai left him behind and followed the others out of the palace.

The desert sands greeted them. The wind blew an auburn veil across the morning skies, casting over the hazy sun with a kind of strange brilliance. The gates of Izadon slammed shut behind them, the grind of its stone echoing across the desert.

The Warriors stood for a moment, a sigh falling over them as they grudgingly stepped into the awaiting hell.

The sun hung frozen in the skies, weightless in a sea of azure. Threads of sand blew across the deserts, biting viciously at the travelers as they left Izadon in the dust of their boots.

“I hear much about this siege of Morven,” Aaron muttered as if to himself, breaking the hours of silence under an inuring sun. “But…what is the truth?”

Malecai dropped the cowl around his mouth and looked at him. “Many things are indeed said.”

Silas shook his head. “Care to elaborate for a change?”

Malecai walked on in silence, staring out over the russet sands. “If what Creedoc says is true, then the enemy has indeed withdrawn from their advance across Tarsha, retreating as suddenly as they had come back to the gates of Andred. It is doubtful that Abaddon would relent his attacks. He has scattered us and dealt a painful blow. He would not surrender this advantage.

Therefore, I believe Abaddon has called this retreated for but one intent, to gather his forces for one strike at the head of the snake, Morven.

It seems foolish to assault the most impenetrable city ever built, yet that is exactly what the enemy is planning, amassing to deal the final deathblow to Tarsha. And with Morven out of his way, we will not be able to resist, and Abaddon will be able to regain his hold over humanity. We will at last perish to his genocide.”

They continued for several moments, the sound of sifting sands filling their ears in the silence. “It would easily take hundreds of thousands to ever have the hope of conquering Morven…and that is exactly what Abaddon intends to do.”

The days passed as the Warriors continued across the Eastern Desert. The wind struck ceaselessly against their skin, throwing sand and stone in a flurry about them. They threw up their cloaks for protection, shielding themselves from the blistering wind and searing sun.