Dusk Falling (Book 1) (3 page)

To do these exercises however meant lowering the mental shieldings all mages learned at a young age to protect their minds from onslaught. There were other ways than purely physical to destroy a magic user so the
barriers were very important. Aya was not at all surprised to find Agemeer standing so close when she reopened her eyes. With her shield down, she felt his presence draw nearer and nearer.

Five years in the past, Agemeer (who had been born Agemeer Tal) had been a sage old hermit who lived in a small hut outside the base of the Bellase Foothills. He lived alone, without even a horse to assist in his yearly journeys to the nearest village. He had quite a large collection of tomes ranging from history to biology to folklore and spent most of his solitary days wrapped in one such book. Agemeer would aid all those who came as way, giving directions to some, food and warm shelter to others. He turned away no one who came knocking at his door and would with much delight read to them in the candlelight a story of fancy while sipping a cup of herbal tea. Much his life in the small cottage was spent such, abounding knowledge of this and that from the books he purchased on his annual excursions.

As fickle luck would have it, a dark stranger passed his way. He was injured so Agemeer took him in despite appearances. He gave him food and drink and did what he could with his injuries. The man repaid Agemeer’s kindness by clubbing him nearly to death and leaving him to die as his house burned around him, having found nothing of worth to steal.

That night, as flames rose to the sky, Agemeer’s plight caught the attention of a most unlikely rescuer: a Giant Wulf who had been watching the stranger from afar. Giant Wulves were known for their intellect which was by far greater than any canine; it was no ordinary creature of the forest. So as it pulled the old sage from the burning wreck of his home, it decided there and then to make a choice that would from then on alter both their lives forever. For the Wulf- perhaps for them both- it was not a hard choice to make. The Giant Wulf’s mate had been killed by a hunter’s arrow a summer past, it had only to wait till time ran out and it too passed on for its kind mated only once. But its life could mean something to another … giving another the time it had left…

The Giant Wulf asked the old sage if he would like it to save his life for surely he would die before morning. The Wulf told him he would lose the body he’d been born with but in exchange he would live and could accompany the Wulf on a shared path. Agemeer, feeling the blood- his very life- pour from his blistered and broken flesh, accepted the Giant Wulf’s offer.

The old sage grinned in canine fashion from within the Wulf’s body. His fur coat was a medium gray, neither too light nor too dark, with white running from muzzle to the underside of his belly to his tail. His eyes were a gentle dewy brown. Settled around his stout shoulders and hung on a simple cord of leather was an unextravagent
blue flask about the size of the traveler’s water skin. Sleeping inside, unawares of the goings on in the world around her, was the Asrai Kcrienalpralopar. She remained liquid during the day which was her natural state and took a secondary form only at night.

Kcrie- despite all Serrtin’s strength, Aya’s magic and Agemeer’s knowledge- was the true catalyst behind their quick apprehensions of Black Dragon warrants. Her Binding ability was astounding, nearly impervious to any tampering.

“So how did you fare?” Agemeer mind-spoke to his friends. The old scholar was adept now at speaking without voice. In the beginning, he could not communicate at all beyond a canine’s growls and whines. Then slowly he began to tap into a source of power he never knew he possessed, first only speaking limitedly to a single person, requiring much energy and concentration. Over time, Agemeer began to perfect his ability to project his thoughts on a finer degree and larger scale.

“Five-twenty total.” Aya responded.

“Oh?” He said with a twitch of his tail.

“Yeah, we had to take a pay cut for…” Aya scratched her temple, trying to think of a delicate way of putting it. Agemeer was like a grandfather to her; one didn’t just blurt out, ‘we took a pay cut because the guy was missing most of his upper left torso’.

“We couldn’t
find
all of him. And what we did find barely fit into the burlap sack I had with me.” Serrtin stated in an offhand sort of way as she sheathed her flamberge onto her back.

One didn’t just blurt things like that out, of course, unless you were a Yarcka. Aya made a face at Serrtin, who just smiled back, knowing full-well why the girl had given pause. The young Mage turned back to the lupine scholar with a swish of long dark hair.

Agemeer blank his large eyes, “Oh, uh, yes well… th-that is too bad. Ah, oh my…”

Serrtin laughed at his comical expression, slapping him on the side in joking fashion. “Aggy, you need to relax. This is how it is with us Hunters. That stuff doesn’t faze us. You still wanna be a Hunter?”

“Well Serrtin, I wouldn’t exactly consider myself a Hunter to begin with.”

“But Agemeer you’re part of the team!” Aya shouted, a little louder than she needed.

If the old Wulf could’ve blushed, he would have. “Thank you, Aya dear. You make an old man feel needed. Now, tell me what we are off to accomplish next because I know from the scent of fresh
napyrus
paper, you did not come back empty-handed!”

~ ~ ~

So they headed out, all on foot except Aya. Serrtin had, for as long as the young mage knew, never ridden horseback. It was just not something her kind did unless absolutely necessary. And as far as a mount large enough to suit a species of Serrtin’s size, that tradition was a good thing. As for the old sage, he no longer felt a horse was prudent for getting around.

Going by the scrawl upon the warrant, the Chase had last been reported being seen south of the Freelands. The writing was penned in a different style than the rest of the warrant, a clipped precise style quite different from the flowing airy words originally printed, giving thought to perhaps the whereabouts were only just now coming into light.

It was true, as most travelers would say, that life got better the further north one went. It was as if good things gradated in a pattern. At the tip of the continent of Demaria sat the Great Grasslands, endless green prairies abundant with life and towns that rejoiced in prosperity. The lordships of Jade joined the Regency’s lands of Indelsis there.

Below the Great Grasslands were the Freelands, which had been formed after the Red Sword Wars, a war that shook the very foundation of the descendants of the first Elves. It created a rift between them and in that upset, the rest of Demaria was pulled in, creating a massive battle that spanned several hard-fought years. After the death of King Valasarent, a sacrifice that not only saved his country but perhaps even Demaria itself, the Freelands were born by people who refused fealty to the one appointed in the dead Kings’ place: the Regent Relmas Urue. Even some of King Valasarent’s own disbelieved Urue could ever measure up to their beloved ruler even though he himself chose his own replacement prior to his death. In order to assuage any uprising the new King did the unthinkable- he elected a Council and named himself Regent instead in honor of the man who had so won the people’s hearts. The Council’s purpose was to see that the People’s will was done. With such a sacrifice in power willingly done by someone whose Word was to be Law. Urue- as well as his descendant, who was unanimously
elected upon Relmas’s retirement- were from then on adored by the people, cherished for his wise and prosperous ruling. Though maybe never as much as the man who had originally brought them together and formed their kingdom.

The Jade Lords had been and were always self-sufficient. Each of the nine Noble Households held their own lands and were responsible for the people who lived there. Though much less selfless, they were as prosperous as Valasarent, who was once one of them. The Lords never did entirely forgive the late King for what they believed he did- turn his back on them. They held their disdain for their neighboring kingdom even after Valasarent’s death.

The Freelands had no official government nor did they take sides. They traded with the North but tended to be leery on their dealings with those outside of the Freelands, especially the non-Larren types. Travelers for the most part bypassed the towns and villages on their way to Indelsis unless they were in dire need of supplies.

In the Krintal Mountains the Dwarprihn reigned, living in gigantic halls cut into the very stone. They lived in self-imposed isolation, never to mix in the affairs of others. Few outside of their race ever laid eye on their wondrous citadels of rock and iron, fewer still beheld the competitions the Dwarprihn staged every handful of years to determine which Clan had the right to rule.

In the Valley of Evermist and its surrounding low-lying lands, the warrior-bandits preyed upon any who became ensnared in the Valley’s blinding mist. It was a dangerous place to travel and avoided by any type of merchant who did not have the funds to hire mercenary guards.

Across the Plains of Nelcharn, the Sea of Sand was home to the desertmen, brigand bands and, on the Southern outskirts, Inubian tribes. Oddly enough it sat directly beside the Frozen Planes of Nothgar- a place just as desolate but not for the heat but for the bone-chilling cold. Nothgar stood as example to all the kind of effects the Deities could have on their world, good and bad, for Nothgar was where Valasarent fought his final battle with help of a God to vanquish the evil encroaching upon the lands. The aftermath had left Nothgar bereft of the life that had once been abundant and the landscape forever frozen. Not even the most powerful of elemental magic could change its white visage.

To the east, Zarhethe was home to many a different nation that held an uneasy truce with one another. Every other season or so something would set them at each other throats and a massive war would break out. Eventually, things would die down with no ground won-or if there was ground gained it would soon be taken back at the advent of another such war. It was a never-ending cycle of distrust and struggle for power lead by the Magnates.

Across the water to the west of the continent was Ilzer, the Elven Isle. Above Indelsis was the island of Bren.

The many different races were a secondary worry to a traveler for there were other things besides thieves, rogue mages and cutthroats when passing through the continent of the West to the East for what lay between was Thabinthira. There were other creatures to be wary of- demonics, often called the Bren word
Youkai
. Fiends, tainted monsters and those that would take your life simply because it could, lived there. The lands itself in Thabinthira, also called the Tainted Lands, would seem to plot against the unwary. With time, its ‘toxic magic’ would seep into a being changing the physical and mental. Even magic was known to be turned by it. Those that chose to live there, lived in peril for (and of) their own lives. The only luck that existed within Thabinthira was that Youkai were ingrained with a burning hatred toward each other therefore they rarely acted in unison.

As Aya, Serrtin and Agemeer headed east, it was Serrtin who set the pace not Aya’s mare. She chose east out of habit for they would need input from their fourth member to gain the correct path. Once out on flat land and away from the trees, Serrtin would turn them north toward Nordek. By nightfall and then morning, their path could be completely changed.

Aya looped the reins around the horn of her mount’s saddle and rested her hands on her black pants. Serrtin strode several feet in front of her, the Yarcka’s pace that of a confident warrior. The bright sunlight glinted off the hilt of the massive wavy-edged flamberge strapped to her back, reflecting onto her dark green scales. The heavy footprints Serrtin left in the soil were as large as Aya’s mare’s own imprints and rimmed with three deep gouges made by her talons. Sharpened ritually almost like her weapon, each talon was as long as one of Aya’s fingers. The young mage could not help her eyes being drawn to the thick talons on what would be ankles on the backs of her legs as well as her elbows. Spurs, like a rooster. A single well-placed kick could gut a man like a knife through baked fish.

Agemeer trotted easily to Aya’s right, pink tongue peeking out between long white canines. His brown eyes were pinned on Serrtin but Aya doubted he missed anything they passed by. It was more than an honor to the old scholar; the Wulf’s gift of new life and all it represented was something Agemeer could never repay. He would sometimes sit late at night and ponder it for hours. As a scholar, this new look on life and all the senses to experience was a gift to be studied in the greatest detail. And Aya knew Agemeer cherished the opportunity.

She smiled fondly. Agemeer was like family to her and without the Giant Wulf’s noble rescue, she never would have been able to meet the kind generous man who told her stories and helped her with her magic studies. Though he possessed no magical powers, Agemeer’s sense of natural balance assisted Aya in centering her own energies, which was vital to her field as mage.

And Kcrienalpralopar, whose crystal flask hung around the gray Wulf’s neck, they all owed her something for without her Asrai magic, the team would never have been as successful as they were. Perhaps Kcrie was not the most sociable nor the most open-minded and she always came out and said exactly what she thought no matter if her forthcoming nature hurt the feelings of her companions, but she was good at what she did. Rarely if ever did she fail.

Traveling down a slight ravine, they headed into a wooden area without needing to follow the pattern of the GoldenSphere in the sky to keep in their easterly direction. As the canopy further blocked the sun’s view and evening approached, Serrtin decided it would be best to halt their progress for the night. They would be needing to check with their Asrai guide and she would be waking soon enough.

Serrtin directed them to a grove of close-knit trees growing in a crescent shape. The trees’ proximity to one another would block much of the night wind, should there be any. Aya slipped from saddle and immediately began unbuckling the cinch. Though not a particularly tall horse, the mare’s shoulder was still much taller than the slight Bren mage. The horse patiently suffered through the indignity of having her saddle dragged off instead of being lifted off. Trinket, as Aya was apt to call the mare, waited only long enough for the tack to be sat aside and the girl had undone the throat latch allowing the bridle and the snobbery bit to slip to the ground before starting to graze. The mare would not wander, tied or not.