Ankar Rie walked all through the night without pausing, using the lighted pinpricks overhead for navigation. He strolled out of the rocky maze of the Stone Flats and moved swiftly across the Mallen Hills until he reached the northern edge of the Shyl Plains. Far to the east, he could barely make out the black silhouette of the Caltar Mountains, which channeled down to his destination.
He paused to wipe the beads of sweat forming against his eyebrows. The air was cool, the sky cloudless. He reached into his cloak and produced a small pouch and took a few small drinks from it, then placed it back where he wore it. He stood for a few minutes in the peaceful night and just enjoyed the moment.
Soon his thoughts turned to the task given to him. He was to prevent a Race war. He was wondering how easy the task would prove to be. He knew little of King Andelline, and even less of Queen Sienna. He had never been into the city of Cillitran. But being of the race of Man, he thought it would at least be more fruitful than going into the Ailia Court to try and reason with the Elves.
Ankar Rie took a deep breath, staring down from the blanket of stars overhead, then began moving once again. He found it odd enough that in all his years spent in Illken Dor, never once had he ventured this far south. He was from a small village far to the north, beyond the Fang Line. His mother had died giving birth to him, and his father shortly after. He spent his youth in the care of his mother’s friend and her husband. They had no children. They had cared for Ankar as though he was their own, giving him the best life they could offer.
But Ankar felt like he was a burden to them, and that he needed to be someplace else. He was close to adulthood when he had left the village, packing little, saying even less to those who looked after him. He knew they would try to make him stay, and he knew he had to go. He walked south, making stops at all the towns, always having the same feeling that he should keep moving, never staying in one place for very long.
A few years removed from his home, he reached the small town of Wichta. He was not there very long when a group of Trolls invaded. He fought alongside of the townspeople, pushing the Trolls out, but the town was destroyed. Several people were dead, many more were seriously wounded. Ankar had sustained life-ending injuries and the townspeople could not treat his wounds sufficiently. They left him for dead. Ankar slipped into a coma. No one thought he would survive.
When Ankar awoke, there was a man re-dressing his wounds. His eyes were dark and very intense; it was a look Ankar would never forget. The man had been taking care of him for weeks, he said. When he was able, Ankar told his savior who he was and what had befallen him. When Ankar asked where he was, the other simply replied, “Safe.” They talked more during the course of his recovery, the man staying close to his side, seemingly eager to see him healthy again. It was nearly a month before Ankar was up and walking on his own.
Ankar asked again where he was. The other smiled and replied, “You’re in Illken Dor, Ankar Rie. I am Shadox.”
Ankar had remained at Illken Dor with Shadox since.
He kicked a loose stone across the soft grass and smiled at the memory. It had been the first time in his life where he felt at home. And now as he was walking further from his sanctuary, he realized how much he had enjoyed his life there.
Keeping his pace, he tried not to think about what it would mean if he did not return.
It was in the early hours of the morning when the land around Ankar began to change. Small groups of thin trees and bushy shrubs formed blotches against the rather smooth appearance of the grassy plains. He was closer to the mountains now and the landscape was hilly with patches of woods lining the edge of the plains. As he looked skyward to his left he saw dawn’s red glow approaching, chasing the darkness back into hiding.
As he moved along a sparse stretch of thin trees, he began to have a nagging suspicion that someone was following him. Watching him, rather. He could sense a definite presence, powerful and unpleasant. Several times he stopped walking, crouched low to the grass and waited. Nothing showed. But the feeling would not leave. In fact, the longer he walked, the stronger it became.
The sun was just showing at the horizon when Ankar Rie reached a small rise and stopped. He could see a good distance around him. With dawn’s early light, anyone or anything searching for him would have been spotted. He scanned the area for nearly an hour before deciding to use his magic.
Ankar Rie knelt on the soft grass and worked his fingers into the earth. His fingers began to twitch and move as if he was weaving cloth that only he could see. His eyes were closed tight; the lines on his face were deep with concentration. Slowly his lips moved; his voice was merely a whisper if anything.
He used the ground the way a spider would use its web. His magic spread over the grass for miles around him, searching for a disturbance. It was quick and effortless.
He found the source almost instantly. As he honed in on it, he could feel the others’ eyes moving with each of his steps. Somewhere close was a small pond. Within the pond the creature waited.
Immediately he began to ponder another approach to Cillitran, but there was none that would be as quick and direct, and time was of the essence. Taking time to reroute would be out of the question. He had to continue as planned. He could skirt the area around the creature and not lose much time. Ankar forced himself to put the creature’s presence to the back of his thoughts and pushed onward.
He walked through the Shyl Plains for the remainder of the morning and on into late afternoon without pause. He was anxious to be out of the wild and into the Andelline castle walls. At least there, he thought, his magic could stand against anyone attempting to claim his life.
Moving with the massive stretch of Caltar Mountains at his left side, he took a measure of his life. He was alone. Aside from Shadox, he had no one to communicate with. No one else even knew he existed. He couldn’t help but to wonder where his life would’ve been if the tragedies of his youth had befallen someone else instead. He would be married, he thought. He would have traveled and seen more of the country, discovered more through being with someone than by simply taking his own opinion in matters.
But as soon as the thoughts began, he set them back where they belonged. It was folly to dream of such things, he knew. Such things that were not meant for him. He was a sorcerer, a servant of higher meaning. And if this is not where he was supposed to have been, then something would have changed matters by now.
Pulling his hood over his blonde hair, Ankar Rie sighed deeply and regained his focus for the coming events. Hardening his ache for companionship, he pressed on.
Dusk came and went. He walked into the early portion of the night, when he first smelled the campfire. It was still a good distance ahead, and he had not made out the fire yet, but he decided to head in that direction. He was tired and in need of some conversation, along with hot food and cold drink. A bath would be ideal, however that would have to wait until he reached the comforts of Cillitran. As he moved past a string of half-grown pine trees, he could see the yellow flames flickering just beyond. As he came closer, he saw three bodies sitting around it, two horses resting behind them, and a tent perhaps in the background.
Ankar Rie made his approach known, not wishing to startle the trio, hoping to be welcomed. He walked straight for them, slowing as they stopped talking and took notice of his presence. As each of them stood and waited, he smiled warmly.
“Good evening. I am Ankar Rie, traveling south to Cillitran. Can I join you?” His voice was relaxed, friendly. He removed his hood.
A young brown-haired woman stood between the two men and answered enthusiastically, “Come on. We were just speaking of the south.”
The two men concurred easily, making room around the fire for Ankar, smiles abroad. Ankar walked over and greeted them each with a firm handshake.
“Ankar, my name is Mortan,” the short-haired man greeted. The sleeves were cut off his shirt and loose around his neck. He wore dark green pants and nothing on his feet. His smile was genuine.
&
nbsp; “I’m Trolan, and this is my sister Jendi,” the tall, lanky man with thick dark hair said, with a gesture to the petite woman standing next to him, who smiled bashfully.
Trolan offered Ankar a plate of stew and a chunk of bread. “Care to join us?”
Ankar’s first impressions of these people were that they were drifters. Their appearance was dirty, save for the girl’s sparkling red scarf, but they didn’t seem to mind. And though Morton might seem physically fit, Trolan, with his slouching stance and gangly arms, seemed as though a gust of wind would sweep him across the plains. The woman though, he thought, with small speckles of dirt across her cheeks, was easy on the eyes no matter how poor her etiquette.
“Please, and thank you.” Ankar took the plate and sat across the fire from Jendi with the two men on either side. “You’re from the south, you said?”
Jendi smiled. “We’re from various parts of the south, you might say.”
Trolan laughed whimsically. “My sister is too kind. What she wants to say without saying is that we are—”
“Leaving the south, going north.” Mortan finished with a wink.
“What about you, Ankar?” asked Jendi. Her long brown hair appeared as soft as her lips. Her green eyes sparkled something that Ankar had never seen.
“I’m actually from the far north, above Wichta.”
“Going to where?” Jendi followed, folding her legs up into her chest and wrapping her arms around them snug.
“South for a while, then back home.” He found himself staring at Jendi, finding her dimples and her lopsided smile to be wondrous. She laughed easy, he thought. She would have made for a good life-mate.
“Do you tire from all the traveling?” Ankar asked to the group, hoping Jendi would answer. But Trolan did instead.
“We tire from the norm. Traveling is what keeps us young and alive!”
“Ankar, we live for the moment,” Mortan belled, “and we have no regrets!”
The two friends clanked their ale glasses together in celebration and laughed. Jendi smiled at Ankar and didn’t look away, her eyes sparkling. “Are you running, or searching, Ankar?”
Ankar Rie’s smile doubled. He liked the way she said his name. “I’m traveling to the house of Andelline to speak with the Queen. There is important business to—”
Trolan quickly interjected. “There’s only war to be found! The Elves killed the King and now there’s war coming. The whole of the land is absurd!”
“Folly!” Mortan spit. But neither became upset. Instead they joked and laughed as if they had not a care in the world.
“We are leaving for the same reasons you are going, Ankar. What chance is it that we would meet here, in between the madness?” Jendi’s voice was tainted with reluctance.
“I am to prevent the war. Or at least persuade Queen Sienna to hold off on attacking.”
Trolan burst into laughter. “Are you a magician? What trick could you do?”
“I am a protector.” Ankar’s statement was firm, wishing them to drop the subject. He turned from Trolan and Mortan and looked at Jendi. He smiled. “I will do whatever I can to protect those captured in harm’s way.” He was delighted to see Jendi smile back.
“Well, magic or none, you will never change her mind.” Trolan smiled to Mortan. “We know a thing or two about it, ya see. We’re not as simple as we appear.”
Mortan pointed a finger towards the fire, waving it this way and that, the fire growing and twirling under Mortan’s direction. “You’d have to be very, very powerful indeed to stop the Queen. She’s gone mad, I hear.” He waved his hand flat and the flames went back to flickering. He smiled to them all in satisfaction.
“Have you even met the Queen?” Trolan snorted to Ankar.
“She’s not one for negotiations, if you know what I mean!” Mortan added.
Through their laughter, Ankar smiled in spite of them. He knew how hard it was going to be, but their thoughts made it more realistic. He turned his face across the glowing bursts of red and yellow flickers to Jendi. The smile on her face was gone; her eyes stared almost blankly at the fire.
“I’m cold,” she said softly, to no one in particular, then rose and gathered a tan cloak from a pack on one of the horses. When she returned, she sat close to the fire, bundled up. She looked at Ankar. “What if you fail?”
“What if I don’t?” Ankar could sense a shift in her; he could almost taste a sadness searching for release.
Trolan and Mortan stood, complained about the conversation, then staggered back into the tent and dropped onto sleeping rugs. Ankar positioned himself closer to the fire, closer to Jendi. The two were quiet for a while, both staring into the flames.
“When the war breaks out, whose side will you be on?” Jendi’s voice was almost a whisper.
Ankar chose his words carefully. “The war that will come will be of those who favor life, versus those who seek death. I favor life. I favor it the more I sit here with you.”
Jendi stared deep into his eyes. She brought one slender hand forth and gently moved a few strands of his blonde hair from his cheek, feeling his skin as she did so. There was so much more to him than anyone she had ever met. He had a purpose in life and she envied that.
In that moment, Ankar was wishing to reach out to her, to feel her soft skin, to hold her close and share things about him that no other knew. He was drawn to her in that fashion. He couldn’t help himself.
But before he could do anything, Jendi rose to her feet, removed her tan cloak and handed it to Ankar. “It is late, Ankar. Sleep by the fire.” She smiled then added, “Protect us all when the time comes.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away to sleep next to the others.
Ankar watched her go, watched her wrap her red scarf around her neck and tuck herself under a blanket next to Trolan. He stared at her for a few moments, thinking of what she had said, and then turned back to the fire. In the morning he would speak to her again and learn everything about her, he decided. He would ask her to come with him perhaps.
When he closed his eyes to sleep, all he saw was her face. He smiled. Sleep came instantly.
It was a few hours before dawn when the screaming started. Ankar Rie stood immediately and opened his eyes to see black shadows shifting recklessly around. Jendi’s scream lasted a few more seconds. Ankar frantically rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he thought he was witnessing was Trolan’s body being held by the nightmares he had fought in Illken Dor, Mortan as well. Jendi was nowhere in sight.
Groans belled from Trolan and Mortan, the snapping of bones followed. With a sick feeling, he watched as a Taker pushed its arms into Trolan’s skin and somehow entered his body. The sight was sickening. The same thing was happening to Mortan.
Immediately blue flames lit Ankar’s fingers and shot into the midst of the demons. Like flaming razors, blue shards of magic ripped through the darkness, burning the Takers to ash. Shrieks howled anew. Shadows began shifting around him now, materializing out of nowhere to stand before and behind him. And now moving to join the others, were the bodies of Trolan and Mortan. The faces of their previous owners were only barely recognizable. Their skin shifted and convulsed as the Takers destroyed everything human inside the shell they now controlled.
“Jendi!” No answer came back.
Ankar Rie gasped. His knees nearly buckled. But his fear gave way to his senses and he summoned his magic again. This time it spread out in a wide arch, slicing through the foremost attackers with ease, disintegrating those closest, rearing back those next, and giving him precious moments to think. He could feel their presence all around him; he could feel their foulness, their poison absorbing the air. It was Illken Dor all over again.
Then he saw a red scarf on the ground. “Jendi!”
Ankar Rie threw his magic everywhere then. His rage was unleashed in a fury of blue streams sent to devour the madness surrounding him. But even as more Takers burned to ash, a flood of red eyes was washing towards him. And this
time Shadox would not be able to save him.
With an ache in his chest so deep that he struggled to breathe, Ankar Rie stepped back into the flames of the campfire and threw down his hands. A cloud of red embers mixed with yellow flame billowed into the air, swirling in the grey smoke. Glowing bits of wood splashed into the grass in a wide explosion.
When the smoke and the ashes settled, Ankar Rie was gone.
From nearly a hundred yards away, Ankar could hear the terrible shrieks screaming behind him. They were still looking for him, searching the campsite in a madness he could only imagine. He kept running, knowing that his spell of invisibility had worn completely and it was only a matter of time before the Takers would find his trail.
His body ached. Sweat was running down his face freely. His mouth was gulping at the cool night air as though he was trying to drown out his heartache. Jendi’s face kept flashing before him, begging him for protection. He began crying then, not able to stop himself, as he pictured her in the moment she screamed out for help.
Protect us all when the time comes.
But he had failed her, failed them all, and what they have become because of it… He couldn’t finish the thought. His body was trembling in remorse and something deeper than regret. He became cold and shivering.
Then to put his crying to rest, the loudest wails of terror he had ever heard roared up behind him. Takers found his trail.
Running up a shrub covered slope, Ankar quickly forgot everything else and looked back. The campfire was a dancing speckle with bodies darker than the sky above it running straight towards him. Cruel red eyes beamed in the dark like torch lights. There were too many.
Ankar reached the summit of the small rise and raced down the hill towards a small stretch of woods. He thought for a second about trying to hide, but knew it would be a wasted effort. He could somehow divert them, and then head in the opposite direction, but knew that would only last for so long and the inevitable would happen. He was going to have to stand and fight.
His mind began racing for ideas on how to do so when he reached the edge of the woods and bolted in. Darting past trees, he kept running, waiting for an idea to surface. None did. He couldn’t think clearly. Too much had happened; too many emotions had been triggered to be able to reason sufficiently. He needed a moment to rest. Just long enough to figure out a plan of action, long enough to focus. But he knew there was no amount of time available for him to remove Jendi’s face from his thoughts.
The woods thinned around him and he slowed his steps, approaching a large open area. Before him stretched a pond; its waters dark in the night, its surface calm. Save for his breathing, the woods were dead quiet. He walked through the patch of brushy grass that circled the pond, and then froze.
He could feel it then. It was here.
Staring around him, he cursed himself for not feeling its presence. He was a fly in a web, and he was nervously waiting for the spider to strike. He swallowed hard, gently turning his head back, feeling the approach of something from behind, not wishing to trigger the others advance; not wishing to die before he saw what was hidden beneath the water.
Slowly his head turned. He thought for a moment of running away, but something warned him against it. He would be too slow. And as he looked back and saw the red eyes of the Takers approaching, he knew he could go nowhere.
As blue fire circled his fingertips in anticipation, he heard the water behind him begin to move. Takers stood in a row in front of him and closed in on him. Ripples in the water behind him intensified. Ankar Rie could feel the earth under him begin to shudder. Something terribly big was coming.
The ground began to shake. Harder. Stronger. The water began to bubble and splash.
Ankar Rie ran.
With blue fire bursting out into the sea of Takers, he charged recklessly ahead, burning to ash whatever tried to stop him. He knew he had to act quickly if he wanted to escape whatever horror was about to emerge from the depths, and he could feel it coming quickly. Every sense about him was screaming in warning. His skin rippled in cold chills, his heart pounded rapidly. Red fire burned towards him in blazing sheets, but he drew up a shield from his own magic and kept running into their midst. Clawed fingers swiped at him from every angle; the forest around him disappeared in a wash of black cloaks.
Ankar Rie could feel the presence of the pond’s creature behind him as it suddenly erupted into the air, the roar that followed was deafening. He saw the black monsters freeze in place as they realized what was happening. Their red fire flared upward above Ankar as he ran without slowing, trying in vain to destroy whatever it was coming to claim them.
Ankar killed a few Takers then raced through the falling ash just as the creature landed on others with enough jarring force to split the ground. Looking back, he saw was a monstrous head, grotesque, covered in scales and sores, with a lidless eye and flailing tentacles, sinking back under water dragging the Takers with it.
CHAPTER NINE