Tempest of Bravoure: Kingdom Ascent Page 9

  Fires and flames we must burn through.

  Warriors and knights,

  The Resistance unites!

  Solstice of Spring now burns in you.

  And the band of heroes born

  Still rests upon the shores

  In the dark of Bravoure’s dawn

  By the light of Heavens’ doors

  Open the gates!

  A new world awaits!

  Oh, Bravoure! Hear our echoes!

  Open your gates!

  This new world awaits!

  Brandish your sword, banish the horde!

  Fire and flames we must burn through.

  Stand up and fight!

  Resist and bite!

  Souls of heroes now burn in you.”

  Ahna hummed silently to this rally of hope and freedom. Her hand joined Lynn’s, and beside her, Jules rested his arm around her shoulders. The band swung left to right to the rhythm of the chants. The people smiled, held their fists or swords high. As the song ended, Joshua left the stage, and the candles remained. They would flicker until dawn the next day, as a symbol of the endurance of the Resistance.

  The crowd slowly dissipated, and they would meet in a few hours for a feast with pouring wine and a myriad of glazed momrogis. Kairen, who stood close to the stage with David, her husband, came to find Ahna after the honoration. She gave her another one of her warm and welcoming hugs. She shared the happiness of her reunion with her sister, and the two set out to distract themselves before the festive evening.

  The captain of the shrikes opened his eyes again—it was late afternoon. At his side was his dear friend Jules, who rejoiced when he noticed Cedric was awake. The lieutenant went to pour a glass of water.

  “You should hydrate,” he insisted. “Mother Divine says it’ll help with the soreness.”

  Cedric cleared his throat and chugged the entire glass. “Where is Ahna?” he did not even take a break and asked straightaway.

  Jules gave him a perplexed look. “She’s not here. And you missed the solstice, dai!”

  Kairen, who stood at the corner of the room, had stepped out of the shadows. “You’re feeling alright, Cedric?” she asked, focused on her peer’s wellbeing.

  The shrike captain sat up. He had a thin woolen blanket that covered his bare body, and because Kairen did not move, he looked at her expectantly. “I’m fine bahi. Can I please get dressed now?” the captain requested.

  The woman rolled her eyes and opened her hands as a sign of capitulation, then she left the two shrikes alone. Cedric stood up, dived in the first set of clothes, and paced from the infirmary to the council room. He hoped to have a good conversation with any of the Council’s members, as long as he could make them aware of the Ahna situation. He certainly did not expect what followed next.

  The shrike knocked on the wooden door and was greeted by the cadet guard who opened. In the room, David and Joshua were in a briefing. The high commander was seated in his chair while David showed him some indistinct documents. They seemed to be about Sharr and the withdrawal of his troops to the capital. They mentioned something about the Dark Lord rashly preparing for the final strike. Bodies laid piled in the streets of the capital and Sharr was gutting the Resistance’s web of spies as they spoke. Cedric addressed the two commanders with the military salute and proceeded with his mission.

  “High Commander Sand, Commander Falco,” before he could speak, the two commanders greeted him.

  “Peaceful Solstice, Captain Rover,” they said in unison.

  Cedric nodded. “Peaceful Solstice”—he did not even wait for them to breathe—“you need to know about the dokka!”

  Joshua motioned for Cedric to stop talking. The anxious shrike passed his hand in his thick brown hair. “Cedric, you must remain calm. We have something we should tell you.”

  They explained how the Council had known about Ahna’s identity from the start and justified why they had taken the decision not to disclose it to the rest. “We did not want too many people to know. We tried to avoid a situation like yours at a larger scale. Obviously, we made an error in judgement, and we apologize for the trouble caused.”

  Cedric was left aghast. He shook his head in aberration. “I’m lost for words, Commanders.” He wished to storm out of the room but instead turned around and prepared to rebuke. “Hide this from the cadets, I could have understood. But from Levireo and I? We were on the same mission, for Guan’s sake!” He attempted to regain his nerve, passing his hand in his dark mane again. “Where is Jade?”

  Joshua stood up from his chair and cleared his throat. “Jade is back in the capital. We understand your frustration, and once again, we apologize.”

  Cedric felt the anger rise, and he could no longer control it. He snapped. “Keep the fucking formalities for your cadets, Joshua.”

  David threw his fist on the table. “Cedric!” he shouted, appalled by the shrike’s behavior.

  “It’s fine,” Cedric remarked. “I’m leaving already.”

  One gauche cut after another, Cedric repeatedly struck at the training dummy in crossed slashes. The loudness of the clangs resonated across the empty training room. In his mind, he replayed the events of East Haven at an accelerated speed. Especially the part when Ahna had taken his bow. He could now remember the scene clearly: how this arcane light had swallowed his weapon whole at the touch of the magic-user. He could not explain it. The arrow had ripped the two large galleys to shreds!

  He swung the iron sword at the dummy again. Too focused on slicing through the metal, he had not heard Ahna’s footsteps behind him. She remained by the entrance, silent, looking at him. She was disinclined to say anything as she glanced at an obviously upset Cedric. He wore his leather breeches and boots, but nothing else. She observed the muscles of his back tense to the cadence of his cuts. A few drops of sweat swirled along his scars and the curve of his back. So many scars… He was furious. When he let go of his blade, he was panting, completely out of breath. The iron sword clashed onto the floor, and he leaned against the training dummy. He rested his head on his arm, still panting from the aggressive series of desperate cuts.

  The silence spoke.

  “It was a beautiful honoration, it’s sad you missed it. But I’m glad you’re better.” A tender voice sounded in the space.

  Cedric then let out a long exasperated sigh. “I am seriously not in the mood, dokka,” he declared with a menacing pitch.

  Yet she came closer to him. “I’m sorry if I kept this hidden from you,” Ahna began her apology. “I would have told you, but the Council...”

  Cedric veered to her and immediately stopped her with his roar. “It’s easy to blame this on the Council, now, isn’t it? When the one who started this mess is standing right in front of me.” She took another step closer to him as he yelled. “You know, Ahna,” he began in a suspicious tone. “They knew we were coming.”

  Ahna held his flaming gaze. “What are you implying?” she cautiously inquired.

  In turn, he then took a step toward her. The closer he got to her, the more she could smell his reek of alcohol, something definitely much more potent than dwarven ale. She leaned back as he got too close.

  “I’m saying you tipped them off,” he challenged her. Shocked by his accusation, Ahna shoved him in the middle of his chest. She jostled him away from her, and he let out a taunting laugh. “Get the fuck out of my face, dokka, before I tear off that pretty one of yours.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder and jerked her out of his way. He headed for the exit when he turned to her one last time. “You can’t hide your secrets, not from me,” he sternly warned. He was about to pass the hall’s threshold.

  “Oh,” Ahna scoffed. “Because you can?” Cedric paused, anticipating what the dark elf had to say next. That old rage emerged, Ahna’s purple eyes lit. Secrets? She thought of his own hypocracy, of what she had caught a glimpse of at the baths before the mission. “You dare distrust me because of my secrets,” Ahna expressed with a cond
escending tone. Then she pursued, incensed. “But Cedric, you lay deep in bed with the Shadows, that’s your secret. And it will kill you!”

  Cedric’s jaw dropped. He thought he had misheard. What did she know? How could she know? He wanted to mask the distress the dark elf had just put him in. He convincingly relaxed his stance and recovered his rigid tone.

  “You act like you have this all figured out, don’t you? But where were you when this mess started?” he asked, his timbre burning with resentment. “I’ve been with the Resistance for over a decade. I’ve fought for my life since I was born. You only heard the echoes of war, but most of us here lived it.”

  Ahna would not have any of this. This man had no idea what she had been through and the choices she had been forced to make and why. The echoes of war? She had lived it too.

  “I fought the war!” she shouted at him, the anger burning in her throat.

  Cedric silenced her. “You deserted. You let your own, twisted kin bring the city to its knees.”

  His last words tore through the walls of her mind. He threw one last scowl at her and disappeared into the hallway. But she was not going to let him get away.

  She ran after him and shouted again. “I fought my own kin, and it cost me everything! I was there when the King fell. I was there when the Academy was burned to the ground! I was there when Xandor and his horde killed my family.”

  The marksman turned to her, his eyes betrayed no emotion. He shrugged and sighed deeply. “Welcome to the Resistance. We all lost everything.”

  Ahna’s body stiffened. Her mouth was left open, and she stared at him with furious eyes. She had no words left she could say.

  One more good old signature goldrain rum! Goldrain—the type of sugar that grew in the Bravan fields. Goldrain rum was luckily still brewed in the capital, even after the war. Dokkalfar troops had a peculiar liking for sweet liquor.

  Cedric was by his fourth chug by now. He sat in the dining hall, alone. He had waited for the festivities to end before he combed the pantry for more rum. The last cardplayers and dice rollers had run off to their dorms, and Cedric had sauntered downstairs. The night had long embraced the Bravan sky, and Cedric sat there, alone, with a bottle of goldrain rum.

  The dark elf’s voice resounded in his thoughts. The Shadows. The image of her accusatory eyes flashed in his mind. These two amethyst gems flickering with the embers of a dark truth.

  Deep in bed with the Shadows.

  That phrase went round and round in his head.

  It will kill you.

  Nothing could ever be closer to the truth, and that is what truly frightened him. His thoughts lingered over the memories of a different time. Visions of his life as an outlaw mercenary. He had been a notorious assassin in the Bravan underground, one who played on all sides of the field. Back in the day, he had never thought he would become a captain in the Resistance. That is when the rebel shrike spies had captured him and led him to the rebellion’s secret base at the time. A series of tunnels underneath the Bravan capital where contraband merchants, dissidents, and rebels would each meet. The black market, full of corrupted souls, or honest people who had been plotting against the Despot. Cedric had found a noble purpose on that day, and he had joined the cause.

  Set on his new journey, he became one of the rebel spies and assassins of the Shrike Wing. He had done glorious deeds for the Resistance, but also terrible things. He had used his mercenary skills to fight, which he still used to this day. He had butchered many of Sharr’s men in the past, had stolen valuable intelligence for the rebellion, had fallen in love...

  The last thought brought deep, repressed pain to his heart. He did not dare remember her name. But who was he kidding?

  Naiel...and her mischievous yellow eyes.

  Cedric covered his face. How could a man recover from the deadly sin that betrayal was? She had used him, his infatuation, to get to the Resistance’s hardest core. She had been part of the reason the Uprising had failed. As his treacherous past flashed before his eyes, a familiar figure walked up to him.

  “Diego...” he murmured as he stood upright.

  “Peaceful Solstice. I had so much soup and momrogis, I will burst open soon! Can I join you for a gold rum?” his comrade and friend politely asked. The shrike smiled and shrugged. Diego sat down and poured himself a small cup of rum. “I hear it didn’t go so well with the commanders,” he began.

  Cedric chuckled awkwardly. “I cursed at the man,” he said, pushing his face against his hands in embarrassment.

  The two men ambled in the dark foyer. Diego helped Cedric stagger to the staircase leading to the dorms. There was one torch that hung from the wall, so the two men could slightly see in the dark. Cedric signed to stop for a second. He needed to take a short break.

  “I’ll kill Ahna myself if I get the chance,” he threatened, out of the blue.

  Diego cast a confused and perplexed look at his friend. “Ahna saved you, dai. You were bleeding out all over your saddle, and she healed you.”

  Cedric continued as though he had not heard what his peer had said. “She’s dokkalfar. She’s the scourge that we fight against. That we’ve fought against for decades.”

  “She’s not Naiel.”

  Cedric gasped. Naiel again... Had Diego seen right through him? The shrike raised his voice. “It sure feels like it. She’s dokkalfar!”

  The Squadron Five captain had enough. “Cedric, you need to get a grip,” he stiffly declared. “She is nothing like Sharr’s horde. She was an archmage. Those were wise and respectable people, teachers! Since when does kinship come in the way of the cause?”

  The shrike retorted immediately. “There is nothing wise and respectable about magic-users. They abandoned Bravoure!”

  Diego, dazed by Cedric’s word, continued the argument. “So you’re angry because she’s dokkalfar or because she’s a mage? Whatever it is, Cedric, you need to get a hold of yourself. That woman saved your life. She saved my life. Without her, Sharr’s warlock would have melted all our minds! I say Joshua was right to send her in.” Cedric just remained silent. “You need to search your feelings, Cedric. What is this really about?”

  The shrike captain snapped, yet again. “Don’t you condescend to me!” he hissed. “Don’t patronise me, Levireo!”

  Diego’s shoulders dropped. He sought quietude in the broken eyes of his peer. He suddenly looked at the man he called his friend and only saw a sorry soul. “What happened to you, Cedric? What happened to the brave and righteous rebel?”

  Cedric looked away in seeming regret. “That man died on the battlefield,” he confessed. “But I can ask the same of you! As we both know, once again, that you also hate the dokkalfar. What happened to that murderous rage of yours? The one that made you, what is it they called it? The Butcher? Back when you were still with the shrikes! Did it die there too?”

  Diego heard the accusatory tone of his friend, yet he could only feel pity for this tormented soul. “Cedric, you’re a sad drunk who’s angry at the wrong people.”

  The shrike sighed deeply and looked away again, with shame in his eyes. Diego went to walk up the stairs, leaving his friend alone again in the dark hallway.

  7

  Prophecy

  Mother Divine and her loyal clerics were all that was left of the Congregation. This order had been created at the apotheosis of the Bravan kingdom. The Ternary Alliance that united all Bravan races under equal values had been declared, and a guild of clerics of different orders had erected the Congregation. The first Mother Divine had been appointed as their herald, and this religious body had inspired Bravoure’s citizens to strive for peace.

  When the war had broken out at the heart of Bravoure, the Congregation had conscripted the clerics. Those who could fight against the horde had been called to arms. These clerics had become known as the Knights Templar. The templars had beseeched the Magi Academy to support the conscription. However, Sharr’s cleansing order, his rash persecution of magic-users, had s
et the city ablaze. Many magi had perished or simply abandoned the fight. The Academy was lost and the templars were forsaken by the arcane.

  Ahna sat quietly atop the cliff above the quarry. She had left for a stroll outside Orgna early this morning. With Bark, her brown steed, they had trotted up the tall hill wherein the mines had been built. She gazed over the cliff, pensive, listening to the melody of morning crickets. She felt a pinch in her stomach, and the truth of Cedric’s words shouted in her mind. You deserted. Ahna was torn by her reasons to flee the war and the fact that she had acted upon them.

  Behind her were the lower lands, covered in a wide variety of trees, from dark firs to emerald poplars. To the east shone the sun bright over the Bravan planes and in the far south, she could see the subtle contours of the City of Gold.

  As Bark grazed the thick grass beneath him, Ahna noticed an old man in a white tunic who walked up the path. She examined the figure and recognized the old monk from days earlier, Brother Gideon. He seemed absent in his thoughts and smiled at the grass. As he got closer, she heard his joyful voice.

  “There’s nothing more delightful than a jolly brisk morning hike!” he exclaimed.

  He came to sit next to her, on a larger stone away from the edge of the cliff. He stayed there still, observing the movements of the rebels below, who seemed to be busy with the horses and supplies. Ahna wondered whether he had heard the news about her situation. It gave her a slight feeling of guilt as her thoughts lingered on the history of the Congregation. The harsh truth was that the magi had abandoned the clerics, and the templars had been massacred.

  As the elf sat at the edge of the cliff with a melancholic silence, Gideon finally spoke. “You wear the shackles of guilt like you wear these woven bands.”

  Ahna looked at the black linen around her wrists. She still wore them, mechanically, but as it turned out, they were not so useful anymore.