Izaryle's Key Read online

  “I’m fine.” Ra’dulen kicked the water, splashing several droplets out over the surface.

  “If you say so. You can’t say I didn’t try.”

  Ra’dulen could feel the corruption inside Gareth. The hunger was screaming at him. He needed to feed.

  “I didn’t ask you to try. I didn’t ask you to do anything.”

  “And yet, here I am. Tell me, what are we doing here anyway?”

  “We’re here because, for the moment, this is a safe place. And they have information we can use.”

  “I understand they’re your people and you want to learn about them. Believe me, I get that. But what do you hope to gain? Sure, they can offer us sanctuary. I’m grateful for that. But in case you didn’t notice, we’re in the middle of another dreu war. And this time they don’t seem to be restricted by the daylight. This puts us on a whole new threat level. We need to be out there killing em. There’s thousands of em out there, ready to taste my steel. But instead we’re sitting on our asses and lookin’ at fish.”

  “I don’t have the answers you seek.” Ra’dulen glanced at his hand, noticing the tremors start the take hold.

  “We'll that's just fuckin’ great. We followed you here because you said we were needed. And now we're stuck here with no idea how to get home, for the second time I might add. And you don't have any ideas.”

  Launching himself up, Ra’dulen landed on his feet, towering over Gareth. “I never said I don’t have any ideas! I said I don’t have the answers you seek! Don’t put words in my mouth.” Realizing his hand was resting on his sword, he took a step back, lowering his guard. “I need to kill something!” Turning on his heel, Ra’dulen marched toward the shore.

  Gareth cracked a smile and pulled himself to his feet. “Finally, somethin’ we can agree on.”

  Ra’dulen marched toward the edge of camp, uncaring if Gareth kept up. He passed hundreds of tents and dalari. It would have been the perfect opportunity to talk to them and learn about his people, but he had to sate his hunger. Delaying any longer could prove disastrous. If he was ready to drain Gareth after all they’d done together, what chance did these people stand? Reaching the guard post, Ra’dulen stepped through the wooden gateway and into the forest beyond their hidden border.

  Gareth was taken back at how peaceful the forest seemed when just a few hundred steps away he would have been in the middle of a massive encampment. It spoke marvels toward their skill at subterfuge. Though he suspected magic was at work. How else would they have hidden in plain sight like that? He’d seen the myrkalfar employ similar tactics, but they at least made a point to camouflage themselves. This, while similar, was no mere camouflage. Catching up to Ravion, he listened for anything that would signal imminent danger.

  Ra’dulen glanced into the trees and sniffed at the air. Studying them for a brief moment, he shifted and started north, “This way.”

  “There’s the scout I remember.” Gareth chuckled, watching his friend track the unseen foes.

  “Quiet down. They’re closer than you realize.”

  “Good. I’ve been itchin’ for a good fight.” Gareth drew his cutlasses.

  Ra’dulen closed his eyes. He could almost taste the corruption radiating from them. His nose twitched and his fingers strained. He hadn’t realized that he’d already begun to draw. Opening his eyes, his arms shot out to the sides. He could see the strands of darkened energies swirling through the air. He glanced at Gareth, uncertain if he could see them too. If so, he didn’t say anything.

  “Is this some new prayer or somethin’? I don’t recall you being the religious type.”

  His concerns were silenced seeing a dreualfar fall from the trees. How he missed it, he’d never know. Charging toward the weakened beast, Gareth laid a deep gash across its chest.

  Another dreualfar toppled from concealment, and another. In a few seconds, twelve of the dark-skinned creatures were picking themselves off the forest floor. Their blackened skin was patchy in places, as if it had been bleached.

  Gareth heard a wicked shout behind him. Spinning around, he saw something he’d never seen before.

  Ra’dulen charged, drawing his curved longsword. A deep bellow echoed from his throat. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. He wasn’t the battle shout type. But he couldn’t deny it felt good. As if a large portion of his aggression was released in the shout, and transferred to his swing. The sword cut into the first dreualfar he reached, slicing the creature in two. Carrying through, he brought the blade up, biting into another. He could smell the corrupted power coursing through them. His hands straining against his sword, he inhaled, pulling the magics from their wounds and into him.

  Gareth caught movement on his blind side. Realizing he was overextended and unable to defend, he opened his mind and let his anger release. He could see himself standing there, twin blades embedded in the dying dreualfar. Another was rushing his right side, poised to strike. Gritting his teeth, he reached out, using his powers to grab the attacking creature by its throat. Gareth squeezed as hard as he could, feeling a snap. The dreualfar toppled, slinging dirt and fallen leaves from the ground and onto Gareth’s dark colored breeches. Returning to his body, the bald warrior ripped the swords free of the dead dreualfar and blindly sliced at the one on the ground, taking its head off for good measure.

  The dreualfar were regaining their bearings. Drawing weapons, they charged the warriors.

  A powerful blast crackled through the air. Gareth turned, seeing a large bolt of black energy slam into Ravion’s back. It hit, dispersing around the dalari scout and disappeared.

  Ra’dulen stumbled forward from the unexpected blast. Glancing behind him, he saw the dreualfar responsible for the attack. A longing smirk formed across his lips. Eyes locked on the frozen dreualfar, he turned to face the caster.

  Gareth stared in confusion. Two dreualfar charged toward Ravion, weapons ready to strike. Rather than dealing with them swiftly, Ravion was behind them in the blink of an eye. The caster was suddenly dangling from his friend’s outstretched hand.

  Ra’dulen stared into the worried eyes of the defenseless caster. Pleasure coursed through him. His arm was locked, holding the dreualfar mage by his throat. Pulling at the power within the creature, he squeezed, watching the wispy corruption seep from its tortured face. He sucked it in, feeling a calm wash over him. All the angst and hunger faded away. He continued pulling, draining every bit of magic the mage could produce. It made him stronger, more powerful.

  Gareth stared in bewilderment, both confused and concerned by what he was witnessing. He watched his friend completely drain the helpless dreualfar. There was nothing left but a withered husk, dry and revolting. Something about it felt wrong. He glanced at the remaining dreualfar, frozen in disbelief at the sights before them.

  Absorbing everything the dreualfar had to offer, Ra’dulen casually tossed the ruined carcass into the underbrush. Without a word, he stepped over the dried remnants and marched toward the dalari camp.

  “Hey!” Gareth demanded, uncertain as to what he was going to say after witnessing such a thing. “What the hell was that?”

  Ra’dulen stole a quick glance at the bald warrior. Refusing to stop, he returned his focus to the trail and kept walking. He was content. Nothing was going to change that. His only regret was losing himself in the moment. Had he been thinking clearly, there wouldn’t have been any witnesses.

  Gareth was taken back at the sight. His friend, his brother, this monster in his body, it wasn’t the man he knew. It was something else. It was something with glowing eyes and a complete disregard for life. Even a life as tarnished as his sworn enemy. Gareth turned, facing the stunned dreualfar. Flinging his cutlass, the curved blade toppled end over end and embedded itself into one of the frozen creature’s chest. It sank to the hilt, launching the dead beast from its feet.

  The others paused, unsure what to do. They were as taken back as he was. Realizing they stood no chance, the remaining dreualfar gathered thems
elves and ran off into the forest.

  Gareth hated allowing them to go free. But something didn’t feel right about any of this. Even one such as he retained a sense of honor in combat. That honor was betrayed this day. Marching across the field, he pulled his cutlass free and wiped the blade clean. Returning it to his sheath, he turned to catch up with Ravion. He had some explaining to do. Finding out what was going on with him was more important than claiming a few ears.

  The scent of cooked meat radiated through the large stone fortress. The dreualfar general sat in his chair at the end of the war room, enjoying his dinner in seclusion. Firelight danced off the walls, illuminating the heavy wooden furniture taking residence in the chamber.

  Watching steam roll from his food, Tygrell stabbed the thick piece of meat and sliced a small chunk from the whole. Bringing it to his mouth, he could taste the spices and remaining blood from the undercooked slab, making a sort of gravy. A knock at the door drew his attention away from his meal.

  “Enter!”

  A single guard stepped through the threshold, presenting himself fully for the general to see. “General, the hydralfar has returned.”

  “So soon? I didn’t expect him for a few more days.”

  Tygrell sat his food aside and stood. Approaching the table at the center of the room, he scanned the large map covering it. There were no details he needed to review. He thought it fitting for his enemy to see him on his feet when he arrived. Misdirection was a tool. Rather than enjoying his dinner when the treacherous hydralfar arrived, he needed to be battle ready. It was all a mind game. If the enemy believed him to be ready at all times, it would keep them on edge, and therefore, uneasy. That would keep them weak when time came for battle. And exposing weakness was how wars were won.

  “Show him in. Once he’s shown me whatever it is he believes I’ll find so valuable, I want you to drive your sword through his heart.”

  “Yes, General!”

  The dreualfar guard turned, disappearing through the large wooden doors. A few moments later he returned, escorting Jorin’otth, two bound figures, both seeming young due to their size, and two of the dreualfar unit that had been sent to ensure the hydralfar didn’t get off task.

  The two dreualfar guided the hooded children to the side wall and took position behind them.

  Jorin’otth approached the far end of the table and nodded his respects. “General, I’ve returned with proof.” He fumbled with the buckle on his pack and retrieved the thin black book. Turning, he gestured to one of the dreualfar. “Bring the boy.”

  One of the dreualfar pulled the child toward the table. Positioning him at Jorin’otth’s side, he took a step back, remaining close enough to restrain him if he tried to flee.

  “General, if you’d join me.” Jorin’otth gestured to the book, laying it on the map covered table.

  Marching around, Tygrell watched his guard take position behind the hydralfar. If he knew what was in store for him, he showed no sign. “I don’t understand what these children have to do with the book.”

  “Patience, General. All will be revealed in due time.” Jorin’otth unlatched the book and flipped to the blank central pages. He could hear the whimpers of the children beneath their hoods. There was no doubt such an experience was traumatic for them. But a price had to be paid. And they were born to pay it. He ripped the brown sack from the boy’s head, revealing his gagged mouth and tear stricken face. He was confused, lost, and unsure of what was happening. Jorin’otth could relate. He recalled his own childhood.

  Tygrell moved into position, staring intently at the age-worn pages. “What’s this supposed to prove?”

  Gently grabbing the boy’s hand, Jorin’otth pulled it over the table so the book was directly under it. “Be still. This may sting. If you flinch it’s liable to be much worse.”

  The boy watched him. Why would a hydralfar be working with these monsters? The two were sworn enemies of each other. He wasn’t around when they existed together, or even when the war started. But he’d heard the stories. The hydralfar accepted them into the empire. And in return they slaughtered thousands. Trusting the hydralfar’s words, he held still, ready for what was to follow. As ready as he could be anyway. It wasn’t everyday his finger was pricked, but Jorin’otth had done it many times since his abduction. What was he looking for? Why was he chosen? The hydralfar had done the same to Maerie, but he didn’t seem to show as much interest in her.

  “General, may I please use your dagger?” Jorin’otth contemplated using his own blade, but pulling a weapon, even one as simple as a dagger under such conditions could set the wrong mood for an already unbalanced situation.

  Tygrell pulled is dagger. He flipped it around to extend the handle toward the hydralfar. He clearly wasn’t stupid. Pulling his own blade could have easily resulted in his swift execution. Releasing the blade into Jorin’otth’s hand, he returned his arm to his side, stealing a quick glance at his guard, anxiously awaiting the command.

  Carefully placing the edge of the blade against the child’s finger, Jorin’otth pulled, watching the beads of bright red fluid form from the small wound. Squeezing each side, he turned the boy’s wrist, watching the droplets fall to the page. As expected, the book absorbed them as quickly as they landed.

  Silence engulfed the room. Not so much as a pin drop could be heard from any of them. Suddenly, an echoing sob erupted from the bound girl against the wall.

  “I’ve seen enough! What the hell is this supposed to be showing me?” Tygrell stood to his full height, quickly losing patience with the hydralfar.

  “As I said, patience, General.” Jorin’otth let another droplet fall into the book.

  He released the child’s hand and lifted the book from the table. “Show me the outcome of this war.”

  Red dots freckled the page. More and more appeared until images started forming from the tiny speckles. Filling in the empty space a massive battlefield could be seen. Tens of thousands laid dead in the settling dust. Pools of blood gathered in the low areas of the terrain. Upon a hill, overlooking the grizzly scene, an army of hydralfar stood victorious over the defeated dreualfar and dalari bodies. Amidst the massacre, a single form stood, arms raised in challenge to the betrayal.

  Tygrell couldn’t identify who the lone survivor was, the features difficult to make out in the various shades of red. But one thing was certain, his army lost. And that was unacceptable.

  Seeing the general’s concern, Jorin’otth quickly asked the book another question. “How do we change this outcome? How do we win the war?”

  The image faded, leaving the blank pages behind for all to see.

  Tygrell watched for any sign of red. Nothing was happening. Perhaps it needed more blood? “It needs more!” Shoving Jorin’otth aside, he pulled the dagger from his hand and ripped the boy up and over the table. Yanking his head back by his brown braided hair, he exposed his throat.

  “No, General, don’t!” Jorin’otth pleaded.

  It was too late. The blade had already embedded itself to the hilt.

  Tygrell ripped the blade free, pulling the child’s head back to open the wound as much as possible. Spilling blood all over the book, table, and floor, he dropped the limp body, watching it crumble to the stone slates.

  The book absorbed every drop that spattered on its pages. A moment later it revealed, in great detail, a map. The point of interest was marked by an odd symbol. A demonic face encompassed by a full moon rested at the base of a grand mountain range.

  “What do we do there?” Tygrell asked, leaning over the book.

  Jorin’otth stared at the wasted youth, his crumpled form bleeding out at his feet. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “General, with all due respect, the bloodline this book requires to deliver these secrets is extremely rare. We were lucky we found these two so close together. I’d ask that you trust me when I say we need them alive.”

  Tygrell raised the dagger, hunger in his expression. Contemplating his choices, he
glanced from Jorin’otth to the dreualfar guard. Nodding, he returned his focus to the book. “I kill when I desire. But I can see the value this book provides. You have my word, from this moment forward no one will touch your pets until their use is at its end. Now, what is the book showing us?”

  Jorin’otth listed the book, asking another question. “What will we find at the location marked by our lord’s seal?”

  The book rearranged, forming the red dots into a singular shape. Upon the page was an image of an odd-looking stone. An inscription formed over the image, naming it for them to see.

  “Dalari Eldarstone? What’s an eldarstone?” Tygrell asked.

  Again, the book shifted, displaying five small images on the page, complete with a description of each one.

  “And what are we supposed to do with this stone once we’ve found it?” Jorin’otth added, hoping the book would keep up with their questions.

  Schematics appeared on the page, detailing a grand machine using the stone as a focal iris.

  “Interesting. General, this is what’s going to win the war. With this, your numbers will be unlimited. Imagine turning your enemies into allies. As their strength wanes, yours will grow. You’ll be unstoppable!” Jorin’otth caught movement out the corner of his eye. Seeing the razor edge of a sword poised to strike, he reached for the rod at his side. Fear erupted inside him. The general was also moving toward him, bloodlust in his eyes. He’d made a mistake. He was too late to understand what was happening. If he was lucky, it’d be a quick death.

  To his surprise, the general lunged past him. A sickening pop echoed in his ears, accompanied by gasping cries. Spinning on his heel, Jorin’otth saw the general atop the guard, his dagger plunged into the guard’s throat. A sword rested in the dying dreualfar’s hand, its intention interrupted. Against all odds, it seemed the general saved him from an unexpected death.

  Commotion echoed through the hall outside the door. A loud bang echoed through the wooden barriers and the door busted open.