Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2) (4 page)

              “That is my thought as well. They will likely consider us comfortable in the fact that we have once again repelled the vicious aggressors, and plan their attack accordingly. They seem to be in no hurry to crush us, however. From what information I have been able to gather, the force that attacked and held the city was one or two clans at best. My guess is that they were told that more clans would be on the way, and when no other clans showed up by summer, they realized that no one else was coming. This is likely why they began to filter out of the city around that time, taking what they could pilfer with them. Whoever sent them was more than likely trying to get them out of the way of some internal struggle for power, and now they are quietly pecking at each other, feeling that we have been culled enough for the time being.”

              “So what do we do now?” Ashur asked, returning to his seat.

              “We rebuild. We recruit and train as many men and women as we can. We prepare for a war like we have never fought before, or we might not walk away from this one, which is why we need the best men and women leading us," Cantel said. "Nim, I need you to come out of retirement and take over your office again. I would give you a promotion, but I don't think Elyse would be keen on a demotion, even for you, nor would Adrian. I know you don't want...”

              Nim's hand had slipped into the pocket where he kept a note that he had been given before all of this began as Stewart had been speaking. “Ok.”

              “... to be a General again, but I think it’s for the best.” It took a moment for the High Commander to realize that Nim had already agreed, but when it finally dawned on him, his eyes widened in shock. “Ok? Just like that? I'm not going to have to give you the treasury, one of the princesses, or anything like that to get you to come back?”

              Nim saw Ashur grinning in amusement at Stewart Cantel's surprise. Ashur knew about the letter that Victor had left Nim, and was in fact the only other person that had seen the entire note. He was obviously enjoying seeing Cantel so off balance.

              “A wise friend of mine told me that I should accept new challenges when they arise,” Nim said, his hand running along the edge of the paper in his pocket.

              “Well, in that case...” Stewart Cantel said as he turned towards Ashur. “How about you Major General?”

              “Major General?” Ashur mouthed the words first, as if to check if he had heard correctly. “That's a two rank promotion. Are you sure you want me running a division?” As he said this his eyes glanced towards the wall, where the wagon wheel slowly rotated in the wind.

              “There are few others that I would trust with one,” Cantel said, though he looked thoughtful for a moment as he followed Ashur's gaze.

              “Well, I guess if Nim is going to accept, you have me on board as well.”

              “For the moment, you will both be mainly utilized as instructors at the Institute, along with most of the senior staff. I need my best leaders teaching these people—we are going to need to push them to their limits.” Stewart said, the mantle of High Commander settling into place. “I would like you to come as well Dunnagan. You are one of the longest surviving campaigners that I know, and we could use a man like you. We could easily make you a Colonel.”

              “Laddie, any other time and I would take ye up on that, but Field Marshall Bannis was wounded beyond healing and is no longer fit for combat.” Dunnagan looked up at his friends and sighed. “The Wardens have asked me to take over as Field Marshall.”

              This was the first that Nim had heard anything about a change of ranks in the Wardens, so he became fully alert at his friend's words. Looking around the fire, he was glad to see that he wasn't the only one who had been taken by surprise by his friend’s announcement. Even Cypherious, who had been sitting quietly and unobtrusively, as was his way, allowed one of his eyebrows to rise in surprise—a rare showing of emotion from the young man.

              “Well, congratulations!” Ashur said, clapping the old Dwarf on his back.

              “I haven't accepted yet,” Dunnagan grumbled.

              “But you will,” Nim said. A slight nod from his friend was the only confirmation he needed.

              “Sounds like our other friend here,” Stewart Cantel said, turning to Cypherious, who squirmed slightly under the High Commander's scrutiny.

              That the man had let his discomfort show said more to Nim than anything else, piquing his curiosity. “What do you mean?”

              “I was going to offer our young friend here a position as well...” Stewart said, surprising Nim once again, to a lesser degree. No one from the Order of the Griffon had ever been offered a commission into the Knights. The forces were recognized as completely separate entities, as completely different orders of discipline were needed for each. “...however, it appears that he is to be the next Grand Master of the Order.”

              This surprised the group more than anything else, wide eyes turned from every angle to look at the young monk. Cypherious's squirming intensified under the scrutiny of his companions. Over the last year, Cypherious had slowly integrated himself into the tight nit circle of friends. Nim wasn't quite sure how it had happened; the man hardly ever talked, and seemed to have the sense of humor of a brick. Time after time, however, the young man had proven himself against the Dracair.

              It was during battle that Cypherious truly shone. The young monk seemed to adapt his fighting style to work with whomever he was fighting near. The young man was death in motion, and Nim had found fighting next to Cypherious to be an enjoyable experience. No matter who he was fighting, Cypherious seemed to brush blows aside with an almost contemptuous ease. After one particularly brutal fight in early spring, the young man had approached the group's fire and been accepted with respectful nods. He had been an expected, if not always noticed, face around the fire ever since.

              “I told them I was too young for such a position,” Cypherious said, obviously uncomfortable being the center of attention.

              Cantel laughed. “Which is exactly what made them decide that it
had
to be you. Most people would jump at that much power and prestige, especially at such a young age, but you told them you wanted nothing to do with it. It reminds me of how Dalton Theromvore became King of the Protectorate!”

              Cypherious sighed in defeat. “I haven't even seen Haven yet.”

              “There's nothing over there except sand and too many serious people,” Ashur said. “The Oasis that Haven is built on is beautiful, to be sure, like a tropical forest in the middle of a wasteland, but the people who live there ruin the whole experience.”

              “I would still like to see it,” Cypherious said, his tone bordering on petulant.

              “We all do what we have to do,” Nim said softly. “Think of it this way—would you trust anyone else with the job?”

              Cypherious looked up at Nim, focusing his thoughts inward before shaking his head. “No, I'm afraid you are right my friend. I do not wish to do it, but I would not shirk the responsibility that has been placed on my shoulders.”

              “Well, I would say that makes this campfire surrounded by some of the most powerful men in the world.” Ashur grinned. “When are you going to be Arch Magus, Halycon?”

              “Don't even joke!” Zander said. “First of all, the loss of Arch Magus Windsbane would be the biggest setback the Protectorate could possibly suffer right now, and for another...” he grinned, “... that is just too damn much responsibility for me! Being the Tetriarch has already made me go bald!”

              Sharing in his friend’s joviality, Nim said, “It seems to me that you were bald when I first met you. You were what, sixteen?”

              “I wasn't bald then,” Zander said. “I simply shaved it off for continuity reasons. Besides, my beautiful ebony features look better when not hidden by something as mundane as hair.”

              Nim laughed, only half listening as his friends continued their banter around the fire. The world was changing, and there was nothing he could do but change with it. He pulled the folded piece of paper from his pocket, turning it over in his hands. Victor had left it for Nim to find on the night that he had disappeared. From its contents, it seemed as if the boy had known that war was coming. For the thousandth time that night, Nim wondered where Victor was now.

              Thinking of Victor always led to thoughts of Shawnrik, the recipient of the second note the boy had left. Nim had left Shawnrik with a group of Giants on the morning that everything had gone to hell. Shawnrik would have opened his letter from Victor on that next morning, and Nim couldn't help but wonder what Victor had told Shawnrik that he hadn't told him.

Chapter 1

New Beginnings

 
My Dear Friend,

If you are reading this, then it means that you decided to leave with those who came for you. I am not sure who you are now with or where you are going, but from what I have been able to figure out, if you had not gone with them you would have died last night in Asylum. I do not understand everything that is happening, nor do I expect you to, either. It seems we are swept up into something that is greater than both of us, and for either of us to veer from the appointed path would mean death for one, if not both of us. Someone has put a lot of work into making sure that we exist, and I do not think they will let us rest for too long. You must learn as much as you can in the next few years. Useyour time wisely. Learn anything and everything that you are able to. Never let anyone tell you that you cannot do somethin
g—
you are able to do whatever you put your mind to.

We each have our duties to fulfill, and yours are no less important than my own. I do
n’
t know how long it will be before we see each other again, but I know, deep down, that we will. I would like you to promise me that whatever life puts us through, you will remember me for who I was. Many hard times are ahead for the people of Terroval, and hard times breed hard men. Do not get so wrapped up in your quest to better yourself that you forget to enjoy life. I want you to remember something for me, and I want you to live by it, and when we meet again, I want you to remind me of it.

Life is a struggle. The only way to survive is to remember who you are, and who your friends are. No matter what anyone else may do to you, they cannot change who you truly are. Live life to the fullest with every breath, and consider each moment a challenge ready to be faced with weapons bared.

Remember who you are, and remember me.

                                                        Your Partner in Crime,

                                                                      Victor

Year: 3044 AGD

Month: Year’s End

Fourth Eighthday (Last day of the year)

Continent of Terroval

Blade's Edge Mountains

Near
Tranquility Mist Village

              Shawnrik carefully folded the well-worn note before placing it back into his pocket. He had memorized every word long ago, but he felt that losing the paper would be like losing another little piece of his friend. It had been a little over a year and a half ago that Victor had gone missing. The world began spinning like a child's top that day, and every day since had been a blur. He hardly remembered the frantic ride across Northwestern Terroval, as the group tried to make it back to Asylum before the battle commenced. When the Giants had stepped into their path on that last morning, Shawnrik knew in his heart that they were there for him.

              The letter that Victor had left Nim had said that he would need to leave with someone along the way, but a part of Shawnrik had wanted to stay with Nim, Ashur, and Dunnagan. His first reaction was to try to argue his way out of it; after all, his mentors were riding off to war, and his only friend had gone missing an Eightday earlier. Shawnrik felt like he would be lost without at least one familiar person around. However, Nim had quickly dismissed that notion, reminding Shawnrik of Victor's note and its dire portent, and that was all he had to say.

              On their way into the mountains, the Elder Giant had asked Shawnrik what the conversation had meant. Not wanting to talk about it, Shawnrik had simply shrugged and let his mount fall behind the rest of the party. It took a few days, but eventually he had quit sulking and began to converse with his large companions.

              The eldest Giant was also the smallest of the group, standing at just under twelve feet in height. His name was Pedrial Lightfeather. Shawnrik had wondered how a Giant had ever been given the name Lightfeather, but he never voiced his quandary aloud. There were four other Giants in the party, the tallest standing at nearly sixteen feet. Each moved at a steady, thoughtful pace, their power clearly evident in each action they took.

              At first, Shawnrik had been content to ride along beside his newfound companions, but one morning he decided to try to keep pace with their loping stride. He had still not grown accustomed to his newly changed body, and the first day had been an exercise in caution, his mind not quite yet processing where each foot should fall relative to his new mass.

              It took a few days, but Shawnrik was eventually able to maintain pace with the Giants for a good portion of the day. It didn't take him long to realize that the Giants had a seemingly endless amount of endurance, running all day long with little exertion. When Shawnrik ran out of stamina, he would mount up for a little while until his body quit complaining a little, and then he would begin again.

              Towards the end of that first Eightday of travel, the path became too rocky and uneven for him to ride safely. Not wanting his horse to slip and break a leg or kill itself and him along with it from a deadly plunge, Shawnrik elected to lead the horse through the rocky expanse.

              Shawnrik had spent the greater portion of his life in the city of Safeharbor; his excursion with Ashur and Dunnagan had been his only experience outside the city walls that he had ever had. Those few months had not prepared him for the grandeur that waited within those mountains. The air seemed crisper, and the land around him had a much more permanent feel to it. Looking up at the majestic peaks above him, Shawnrik felt small once again.

              The party continued at such a pace that, besides a few brief rest stops, he had only been able to enjoy the scenery in the morning or at night. Ten days after he had left Nim's party, Shawnrik found himself bumping into the back of Pedrial Lightfeather. One minute they had been jogging along, and the next the man had just stopped. It took him a moment to realize that the elder had indeed called a halt, but he had been paying so much attention to where his feet were landing that it hadn't registered.

              Looking around to see why they had stopped, Shawnrik got his first look upon the village of Tranquility Mist. It appeared to be a small community, made up of a few dozen stone-worked dwellings. Moss and other plants were well appointed throughout the village. The strangest thing about the village was the fact that the houses had metal roofs, the likes of which Shawnrik had never seen before. Most of the buildings he had ever seen had thatched or clay roofs; the most outlandish he had seen had been stone-worked, or marble roofs that some of the rich had paid the Shapers generously to create.

              The people of Tranquility Mist accepted Shawnrik as if it was natural for him to be there. His first impression of the village was that it was very sedate, but he quickly learned that it was only because the children of the village were away at school. He found out that the children would leave to go to school every other year, returning only for planting and harvest seasons. On the years that they didn't go to school, they would stay home and learn a trade. It would be another month before the children returned home for the harvest.

              Going from a place like Safeharbor to a place like Tranquility Mist was a big adjustment. In Safeharbor, everyone was always rushing around, trying to get from one place to another as fast as they could while trying to make as much money as possible. The people of Tranquility Mist went through their day in a steady process, rarely hurrying and finishing one thing or another as it came along. If you needed something from someone else, you could trade your time or other goods for it, money being of little use.

              Settling in, Shawnrik found himself under the tutelage of the elder Pedrial Lightfeather, whose house was just large enough to accommodate the two of them. Having arrived so late in the year, it would be impractical for him to return to school with the kids when they went back after the harvest, so he spent his time with the elder learning whatever Pedrial decided to teach him.

              It didn't take long for Shawnrik to find out that Pedrial was the smith of the village, but his excitement at the prospect of learning such a craft was quickly tempered by the amount of work required before any crafting could begin.

              The first thing that Shawnrik learned was that there were no shipments of ore to be had this far into the mountains, so if you wanted materials you would have to get them yourself, or have something valuable to trade for them. Shawnrik had two bags of gems that Ashur and Dunnagan had given to him, and a small bag of gold coins, but it seemed that those were not fit for trading in Tranquility mist, so Shawnrik quickly found himself working in the quarry, gathering the materials needed for the smithy.

              The second thing that Shawnrik learned was that a village smith rarely made weapons or armor; most of their time was spent making new tools and pots, or repairing old ones. When he wasn't gathering materials, Shawnrik could usually be found working the billows as Pedrial Lightfeather worked on one project or another. While he worked, Pedrial would tell Shawnrik what he was doing and why he was doing it. Shawnrik hadn't realized it at the time, but the old Giant had been preparing him to be the smith's apprentice.

              Shawnrik found the Giants to be a very gentle people. They worked hard and settled their differences with words or actions instead of with a blade, even though they were powerful enough to break someone in half with an errant blow. With such strength, it made sense to settle differences in ways that did not involve force.

              The average male seemed to be somewhere around fifteen feet tall, and the average female topped out around twelve feet. The skin tones were as varied as they had been in the city, anywhere from a light cream to a dark obsidian, but every Giant seemed to have a slightly violet hue to their skin, if one knew what to look for. The eye colors also seemed to vary vastly, but the one thing they had in common was that they reminded Shawnrik of gemstones. He had seen everything from a deep jade to a dull hematite.

              Shawnrik had briefly met some of the kids when they came back for harvest, but he had been working in the smithy most of the time they had been home. Shawnrik had tried to learn from the kids where they went to school, as they had simply shown up one day and disappeared the next, but all he could get from them when they came back was the name Serenity Valley.

              The winter rolled by, and Pedrial Lightfoot taught him the history of the Giants. It seemed they came from a faraway land, where they were used as slaves because of their pacifistic nature. Some of the Giants rebelled; tired of the way their brothers and sisters were being treated, and were banished. The only thing that remained from that time was their language, complex and beautifully harmonious.

              During his time in Tranquility Mist, Shawnrik learned that physical labor had the benefits of toning his body while keeping his mind clear. As spring rolled around, he once again found himself working in the quarries and mines that were spread out in the mountains around the village. The hard work let him clear his mind for a time, forgetting the feeling that he was leaving someone behind. He read Victor's note at the end of each day, wondering where his friend was and what he was doing.

              With all the work to do around the village and each person learning a different craft, there wasn't a lot of time left for socializing. He had attempted small talk several times with the other kids, but he had not met anyone who he would consider a friend during his time in the village.

              It was during the summer that Shawnrik finally felt like he had a good grasp of the language and was willing to try to communicate using it with someone other than Pedrial. His first attempts were met with the same stoic patience that the Giants seemed to use with everything they did, and it wasn't long until he felt comfortable communicating with his neighbors.

              All things considered, he rather liked his life in Tranquility Mist, but he knew deep down that he didn't belong there. When the night grew dark and the rest of the village was in bed, he would sneak out to a flat spot in the quarry and practice his sword and axe techniques, the way Ashur and Dunnagan had taught him. It was during those sessions that he felt the most at peace. That was one of the main reasons that he knew that he didn't belong, but it was by no means the only one.

              One of the benefits of living among the Giants was that he was able to forget that he was now larger than any man he had ever met in Safeharbor. His clothes had already been modified several times to accommodate his growth, and by the time Harvest Festival rolled around once again, Pedrial decided that it was time for a new set of clothes entirely, something loose that Shawnrik had room to grow in.

              He hadn't noticed when his voice had settled into the light baritone that he now spoke with, but he was glad that it had. As the days went by, he found himself growing much more comfortable with his body, and he found that his strength had grown considerably. The hardest part about his strength was learning how to control it.

              It was very important when smithing that he not hit the metal too hard or too softly. Other things that people might take for granted, the Giants had to use great caution doing as well. Simple things like opening a door, or bumping into a post could quickly turn into a disaster. Knowing where you were, what was around you, and the strength of the things you were dealing with was crucial to every day survival.

              On his rare free day, Shawnrik would explore the mountains, often running great distances to see what was just over the next hill. He had thought that his larger body would be slower, but he had been quickly disabused of that notion. His longer strides lent themselves well to increased speed, and he found that he could jump incredible distances. His strength let him climb wherever he wanted. If he couldn't find a hand or foothold, he simply made one. Shawnrik quickly began testing every limit, trying to find out everything that he was now capable of doing.

              Shawnrik had spent the better portion of the day doing exactly that, and his exploration had brought him further afield than ever before. He now sat upon a massive rock formation that overlooked one of a multitude of hidden valleys in the Blade's Edge Mountains. The sun was slowly making its decent towards the horizon, coloring the sky in a multitude of pinks and purples. It would be well past dark by the time he made it back to the village, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

              Pedrial would likely not make a big deal about it—he never seemed to want to put extra rules on someone who was already well behaved. Shawnrik's run had been exhilarating, but it had also given him a lot of time to think about what was to come on the morrow. On New Beginnings three years ago, he had met his best friend for the first time, and sometime tomorrow morning ten years ago, Victor had been born. Last year, Shawnrik had spent New Beginnings huddled next to the fire in Pedrial Lightfeather's home, not yet used to the frigid cold of winter in the mountains. Tomorrow he would be off to someplace called Serenity Valley, where he would go to school for the first time in his life.

              Shawnrik wasn't sure when his own birthday was; he thought it was somewhere in the month of Ragnós, which meant he was nearly halfway through his fifteenth year. When he thought about the fact that he was five and a half years older than his best friend, it made him laugh. Five years older than Victor, who had taught Shawnrik how to read and write Common, and speak it properly. Five years older than the boy who had been giving him advice ever since the day they met. Victor, who had disappeared, leaving only a letter that said that everything would turn out alright, even if he didn't know where on Terrazil he himself would end up. Even with his own future uncertain, he had been trying to reassure his best friend one last time.