Sundered Reign

TWO Pyre

TWO

Pyre

‘Ready the torches!’

His words echoed across the arena, despite the impressive number of Freylarkai present, all of whom had turned up to honour the released. Aside from the crackle and fizz of a single lit brazier, his voice alone made the only sound; not a single murmur passed the lips of those present, all of whom stood perfectly still – despite the cold bite of winter – out of respect for the fallen. At Kirika’s request, six pyres had been constructed in the arena by civilian telepaths. Five of these were erected in positions that formed a large circle, with the sixth at its centre. The wooden pyres had been stacked incredibly high, and upon each lay the broken bodies of those who had fought valiantly in battle. He rebuked himself for not knowing all of the fallen as well as they had each deserved, but such was the nature of command and his rank of Blade Lord. It was impossible to know the lives of all those under his command who he committed to battle, although in light of the Order’s recent substantial losses, perhaps that would change going forward, he mused. Regardless, he knew the impressively built red-haired Freylarkin atop of the central pyre all too well: Ragnar, Captain of The Blades, and life-long close friend. He reminded himself that service to The Blades courted release with each passing cycle, nevertheless, the cold reality of loss weighed heavily on his soul. Despite the Captain’s gruff and ill-mannered nature, Ragnar had been a true friend over the countless passes they had fought together. They had saved each other from release on many occasions, although Ragnar’s last act of salvation had come with a heavy price; the Captain had selflessly sacrificed his life to save them all from certain release, following a brutal onslaught from Lileah’s ferocious chimera. The savage creature had unexpectedly – after flanking their force with its preternatural speed – devastated their ranks. The beast’s colossal bulk had battered The Blade’s archers, scattering and trampling their bodies underfoot in its horrendous charge. Although he had been the one to end the creature’s unrelenting rampage, ultimately he had been unable to bring the beast down during the violent encounter. That task had fallen to the Captain, who had bravely received the creature’s renewed charge in order to finish the job that he had started. He cursed himself for failing to take down the chimera alone. Had he done so, there would be one less corpse atop the pyres standing before them now.

One-by-one, the Freylarkai entrusted to light the bonfires lit their torches, before gathering around the six pyres ready to reduce the bodies of the fallen to ash.

‘Is there anyone here who wishes to speak for the released, before we cast their ashes to the wind?’

Though he was accustomed to public speaking, he had always relied on Ragnar to rally The Blades. As a public figure, he was inspirational – he was keenly aware of the fact – and he could charm almost any individual. Yet he lacked the grit and passion necessary to embolden the mob; Ragnar had always been the one to ignite the fire within their hearts.

‘I will speak for the released.’

The solitary voice was immediately recognizable. He turned his head towards Rayna, now habitually referred to by The Blades as The Guardian. Kirika and her elder sister Darlia, whose presence was taboo, flanked the demi-god light bringer. Vorian of the Knights Thranis stood close by too, accompanied by his newly adopted Vengeful Tears. Both Nathanar and Natalya were also part of the formidable group. The allegiance – now on public display – between Rayna and the scrying sisters made him feel uneasy. Together they represented a powerful triad, rooted in solid foundations. Kirika – much like Rayna – commanded the respect of the people, and her recent actions during the battle for Bleak Moor had put her in good standing with her fellow Blades, bringing her back into the fold. This rise in popularity and her position on the ruling council, in addition to her political prowess, placed her at the fore of Freylar’s direction. However, it was her sister, Darlia, who represented the greater concern. The once-notorious scrier had earned a measure of respect from the people in light of her public address to the Freylarkai, warning them of Lileah’s invasion. The Freylarkai’s short memories had seemingly forgotten – or perhaps they had conveniently chosen to forget – Darlia’s past transgressions. The infamous scrier’s return to Freylar represented an open challenge to Mirielle’s rule, given Darlia’s public exile by the Queen for pushing the boundaries of her ability. Darlia’s return was a problem that needed handling carefully. Then there was Rayna herself, more commonly referred to as The Guardian due to her unique arrival in Freylar, and her instrumental role in thwarting two invasions of their domain. Rayna’s popularity grew with each passing cycle, and there were those who actively revered the light bringer due to her demi-god status. In addition, Rayna had earned the respect and loyalty of The Knights Thranis, as well as that of the surviving Blades, including Nathanar and Natalya. He could feel the reigns of command slipping between his fingers as fresh pieces moved across the board, encroaching on his position. Though he harboured no animosity to any of his peers – Darlia being the possible exception – he was not blind to the shifting mood of the people and the desire for change. Once more, The Guardian had the opportunity to address the mob – he was powerless to stop it – which would no doubt bolster the public’s perception of her. He considered the possibility that Rayna failed to fully realise the consequences of her actions, and that it was simply her way, having allegedly squandered her previous life amongst the Sky-Walkers before arriving in Freylar. However, there was nothing conventional about Rayna. The Guardian had repeatedly tackled difficult situations in an unexpected manner, catching opponents off guard, including Lothnar. He wondered how he would fare if an unfortunate situation arose pitting them against one another, and hoped dearly that such a scenario would never play out. However, he was not blind to the fact that Rayna’s actions now irritated Mirielle, at a time when Freylar’s queen was almost certainly at her most insecure. With Aleska gone – away on other business – he was the only one who could hope to manage Mirielle’s increasingly capricious behaviour. He could feel the burden he shouldered increasing. Managing The Blades’ battered morale, Mirielle’s changed disposition, and the continued defence of Freylar weighed heavily upon him, and now he had lost a good friend, one who had provided a much-needed sounding board over the passes.

‘As you wish.’ he replied, offering Rayna an accepting nod.

He wondered where Thandor, Lothnar and Nathaniel stood amidst the sea of change, and whether they too would succumb to the allure of something different. Thandor took an informed view of all things, and always kept the bigger picture in mind. If not for his aloof nature, the veteran Paladin would have been suitable for the role of Blade Lord. Lothnar, by contrast, was an uncomplicated Freylarkin, frequently driven by predictable emotions. Lothnar distrusted scriers and was wary of The Guardian. He had also shunned Nathaniel’s teachings and had enjoyed a close friendship with the released Captain, who had openly loathed scriers. It was difficult, therefore, to imagine the nomadic Paladin aligning himself with the once-divergent sisters. However, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he could sense the Paladin holding something back, like a key piece missing from a puzzle. Finally, there was The Teacher to consider – probably the most complicated of the three. Nathaniel had been his biggest supporter during his ascension to the role of Blade Lord. Over the passes, the much-respected Freylarkin had endorsed his command tirelessly, thus creating a strong bond between them. However, the sudden loss of Nathaniel’s daughter, Alarielle, had understandably disrupted The Teacher’s focus, which had previously been resolute. Nathaniel’s world was subsequently tipped upside-down by the arrival of Rayna, who now inhabited the restored body of his released daughter. Yet despite the unforeseen turmoil, Nathaniel was loyal to The Blades and saw himself as a father figure to their Order. Given the hammer blow they had suffered in the wake of Lileah’s invasion, The Teacher would likely have his hands full strengthening the Order at the grass roots. However, despite his favourable analysis, Nathaniel’s close proximity to Rayna made him uneasy. When first Rayna had made a name for herself at Scrier’s Post, he had supported her subsequent development, though he had not foreseen her alarming exponential rise in popularity. It was now impossible to wander the alleys surrounding the arena without overhearing enthusiastic talk of the renowned light bringer.

‘I will miss Ragnar dearly.’ said Rayna emphatically.

The Guardian remained where she stood, although she turned to face the bulk of the gathered crowd in the tiered stone seating.

‘He could be gruff and unfriendly at times, plus he drove me mad with his incessant rambling at Bleak Moor on the eve of battle.’ continued The Guardian, whose words prompted hearty laughter from the audience. ‘Nevertheless, he was an inspiration to me – if not to all of us – and his release has left a gaping hole in our lives, largely due to his immense size.’

Once more, the crowd found the humour in the light bringer’s words. Rayna deliberately tugged at their nostalgia in her habitual light-hearted manner, in a bid to win their favour.

‘His memory, and those of the others who we honour this cycle, will live on in us all. Tales will be told of the Captain’s annoying habits, but more importantly of the fact that he, and the others, gave everything to save our people. To forget their deeds, or worse, to forget them, is to dishonour them. I ask that we each remember those who have sacrificed themselves so that we can go on. Let us remember the released.’

Following her speech, The Guardian raised her left hand, deliberately displaying the scar that ran across her palm. Lothnar had caused the wound during her duel with the Paladin at the Trials. Since her unexpected victory in the arena that cycle, the unorthodox symbol had been used with great effect on multiple occasions, to rally The Blades behind the light bringer. The vivid scar – which Rayna deliberately refused to have healed – represented the light bringer’s unwavering determination; it epitomised her resolve and the strength of mind, required to get the job done despite overwhelming odds. Ironically, it was the Order’s most compliant Blade, Nathanar, who had first leveraged the symbol’s power, with Natalya and Kirika following suit. Now, The Guardian used it herself to rally the gathered Freylarkai, each raising their left hand in response, thus giving further credence to her words. Rayna was a quick study, and with The Teacher’s tutelage she had quickly learned how to handle herself in a fight. However, Nathaniel was not her only mentor; Kirika too played a role in her development. In addition to the martial arts imparted by Nathaniel, Rayna was now beginning to handle herself politically, by learning how to wield the invisible weapons of statecraft. If not correctly managed, The Guardian had the potential to become a formidable opponent, rather than a useful ally.

‘Light them!’ he said loudly, ending Rayna’s sermon and giving the torchbearers the signal to set the pyres ablaze.

The thrown torches flew through the air before igniting their targets. Despite the cold damp touch of winter, the kindling performed its job admirably, immediately catching fire upon contact with the flaming projectiles. Within moments, the pyres were alight. The flames spread quickly, giving rise to impressive conflagrations each of which rapidly consumed their prey. The bodies of the fallen crackled and fizzed as the flames greedily devoured them. The audience looked on in silence. Aside from the fires burning furiously, there was no sound in the arena whilst those gathered quietly paid their respects. No tears were shed for the released; instead, a quiet moment was shared by those present in honour of The Blades who had fallen in battle. Ultimately, it was Rayna who was first to break the quiet solace.

‘I remember Kryshar.’ she said as they each watched the mesmerising flames consume their fallen comrades.

‘I remember Katrin.’ said Vorian unexpectedly, followed by Nathaniel, whose voice was full of emotion, ‘I remember my wife and daughter.’

Across the arena, all those gathered announced in turn the names of loved ones who had since journeyed to the Everlife following release. It was a powerful public display of emotion, which he had never before witnessed in his time, spurred on by Freylar’s habitual catalyst.

‘What am I going to do with you?’ he whispered quietly to himself, musing over what the future might hold for the pieces assembled before him.

She cried out in pain once more.

‘My queen, with respect, you must remain still.’ said the renewalist who had been diligently tending to her wounds since the attack.

‘Can I be of assistance?’ asked one of Kirika’s aides.

The Freylarkin’s feigned sincerity irked her, their presence likely serving the sole function of keeping the Fate Weaver informed of her slow recovery. Two cycles had passed since the exiled shaper’s attack. Krashnar’s attempt to violate her – in her personal quarters no less – had been only partially successful, though she refused to acknowledge the fact publicly. She could still feel the sickening touch of his vile tongue sliding across her skin. In addition to the mental anguish she had suffered, her body had been ravaged by the shaper’s perverse ability; Krashnar took great pleasure from shaping flesh, and had succeeded in deforming hers. Since the attack, her wounds had been expertly healed, courtesy of the renewalist loitering beside her bed, however, the mutilation of her body had been more problematic. By her decree, it was forbidden to work the flesh of another in Freylar, as such there were few with the ability to aid her. Therefore, as Freylar’s most powerful shaper, she needed to help herself. Her attempts to correct her limbs – which had been grotesquely twisted – had been hit and miss. For each success, there had also been failure, followed by pain and the humiliation of the renewalist’s necessary assistance. Working together, they had been able to undo most of the damage caused by the exile, though her left arm remained locked, unable to bend at the elbow that – her unique sight informed her – no longer existed. With the joint entirely gone, it fell to her to fashion a new one. Unfortunately, she lacked the experience working with flesh and bone necessary to do so.

‘Leave me!’ she barked angrily, causing the frightened aide to recoil before scurrying away. ‘That goes for you as well!’ she continued, now directing her venomous gaze towards the house guards, who loitered by the chamber’s broken door.

‘As you wish.’ replied the guards in unison, before taking their leave.

She recognised one of the guards from the arena – Ralnor – who had previously disobeyed her order to apprehend Darlia during the scrier’s commotion at the Trials.

‘Not you! You will remain here.’

She decided then that she would take a personal interest in the house guard’s future development in order to curtail any further disobedience. She commenced by picking him up on his previous oversight.

‘You alone will guard me. Note that I expect you to carry out my orders this time.’

‘Yes, my queen.’ replied Ralnor nervously.

The lone guard quickly returned to his post by the battered door, which Vorian and The Vengeful Tears had ruined prior to driving Krashnar away. She supposed that Krasus would be the one to carry out repairs, given her weakened state; she made a mental note to summon the over-confident shaper to her chamber once she had finished tending to her injuries. Krashnar – who had made good his escape – had ambushed her in her quarters after stealing Hanarah’s identity, using the Freylarkin’s likeness to infiltrate the Tri-Spires. Security that cycle had been stretched thin due to the Trials, therefore she had refrained from reprimanding The Blade Lord for allowing Krashnar to be so bold. Besides, she could feel the walls closing in around her, thus she needed her allies – now was not the time to push them away. Marcus was loyal to her. The Blade Lord was one of the few Freylarkai whom she could trust implicitly, aside from Aleska. Since the venerable scrier’s necessary departure, holes had begun to appear in her rule. Though she valued Marcus’ counsel, he was a military Freylarkin at heart, and with the invasion over, she required a different type of cunning to manage the domain in the wake of Lileah’s invasion.

‘Ralnor, get me a Sky-Skitter. Ensure that it is one of our most reliable.’

‘As you wish, my queen.’

The nervous house guard immediately turned and left the chamber, leaving her with the fastidious renewalist, who continued to loom over her bed.

‘You need not remain here.’

‘I will remain until your wounds are healed.’

‘This is not a wound that you can heal.’ she snapped, ‘The joint no longer exists, ergo it cannot be healed by your ability.’

‘You will create a new one.’

‘Perhaps, but it will not be this cycle.’ she said with growing frustration. ‘If you want to help, go and find me something that I can practice on. Maybe that dire wolf that keeps loitering around here.’

She immediately regretted her choice of words, though she could no longer hold her anger in check. Krashnar had invaded her private space, violated her, and now she would be subject to ridicule due to her lame arm. Furthermore, her rule was being scrutinised and challenged by those who served her. In addition, there were exiles running around in Freylar, completely unchecked. She could feel the threads of her rule unwinding, prompted by the actions of a few – a state of affairs that she would quickly change, once back on her feet.

‘I am sincerely sorry for your loss.’ she said, turning to face her sister, whose pale cheeks glistened with tears.

They stood beside one another next to an unmarked grave near the base of the Eternal Falls. Natalya had helped them to move Lileah’s body close to the site – minus her head, which had been pulped by Darlia’s ornate mechanical claw. They had insisted on carrying Lileah’s body between them, in private, to its final resting place. It was during this time that she appreciated the horrors inflicted on the released telepath’s body. Digging Lileah’s grave, in addition to carrying the increased weight of the Freylarkin’s flesh-metal corpse, had taken its toll; she felt physically exhausted and her back ached.

‘She chose to follow this path, though I must shoulder much of the blame for setting her upon it.’

‘We each deserve a second chance.’ she said sincerely.

‘Hundreds have been released due to my actions.’

‘Yes, but you saved thousands more by warning us of Lileah’s invasion. Besides, you will spend the rest of your cycles helping the families of those victims of the Narlakai by giving them the closure they seek. After your encounter with their freed souls, you alone can do this.’

‘That knowledge, which I shared with you in confidence, does not ease my burden, Kirika.’

‘Nor should it. We are each defined by our actions. The important thing is that we learn from them.’

‘Agreed, however, we are also responsible for them.’

‘Indeed. When you and I return to the others, we will both face the consequences of our actions.’

‘I am sorry for your poor standing with the Queen.’

‘It was my choice, and a necessary one. Besides, Mirielle and I were on an inevitable collision course.’

‘Have you scried the outcome?’

‘Yes, but there are too many paths to trace, and Rayna intersects all of them.’

‘The Guardian is your strongest ally, but also your greatest weakness.’

‘Rayna blinds our second sight; nonetheless, it is a handicap of my own choosing.’

‘You need to be careful and ensure that Mirielle does not find a way to discredit the light bringer – symbols can be tarnished, or worse, corrupted.’

‘Your counsel is wise, and the thought had crossed my mind. With the exception of a few, allegiances are clear. Mirielle is not the type to divide and conquer – that is Aleska’s forte. Mirielle lacks patience and the disposition for drawn out campaigns. She will look to deal our movement a critical blow using blunt instruments. For this reason, you must go into hiding.’

‘But where would you have me go, sister? Who – beyond those in the Queen’s line of fire – would dare offer me sanctuary? If I return to the borderlands, I cannot lend you my support.’

‘Darlia, you do not need to flee the vale. You can hide amongst the very people over whom she rules.’

‘Forgive me sister, but I lack your confidence.’ replied Darlia, raising her conspicuous mechanical claw.

‘That does not matter. The people will conceal you in their homes. Ordering the house guards to search the dwellings will harm Mirielle’s standing with the people – she will realise this. Besides, the Queen cannot realistically search every home, and you will be on the move.’

‘Kirika, I do not understand. Why would the Freylarkai take me in after everything I have done?’

‘The people only know what Mirielle tells them, but what is more important to them is family. Tell them I have sent you. When you bring word to them of their loved ones who have journeyed to the Everlife, they will welcome you with open arms – the people will protect you.’

Darlia considered her words carefully, before wiping the tears from her face with her good hand. It pained her to see her sister so heartbroken. Despite everything her former lover had done, Darlia loved Lileah, even in release. It saddened her that Lileah’s body needed to be buried in secret, away from prying eyes, but if the Freylarkai or Mirielle learned of its location, there was every chance the remains would be exhumed and put on public display.

‘So be it. I will operate in the shadows, playing the role of the agitator by seeking to strengthen your name.’

‘That is a bold move sister, and by no means without its share of danger. You will be on your own, you understand.’

Darlia smiled.

‘Forgive me sister, but in this you are wrong. I will not be alone. I will have the people, and they will protect me.’