Broken Blades Don't Sing (Tales of Ashkar Book One) (9 page)

An elderly man with neatly cropped
salt-and-pepper hair sat in front of a wooden desk that was piled
with papers and various texts—much like Wu’s—but in a more
organized manner. The busy man looked up at Wu with a confused
expression for a brief moment, then sighed deeply and shook his
head. He shifted his attention back to the pamphlet he was holding
and continued to scribble on it furiously. The guards grunted and
strained against the magical force that held their bodies as Wu
walked past them and through the door. Flicking his wrist, the door
slammed shut behind him.

Behind Graeme, sunlight poured in from the open
window. To his left was an opening that revealed the sky, allowing
one to view the stars with the large telescope. At the moment the
opening was closed, for the Grand Arcanist was clearly busy with
other matters, and Wu presumed that the moonlit sky offered a
better opportunity for such trivial stargazing anyway. Up here, one
could view just about all of Magia as well.

Wu plopped down onto the empty chair in front of
the overfilled desk, and couldn't help but chuckle at all the
paperwork that was laid before him. "Why did we decide to this
again? I seem to keep forgetting.”

Graeme looked up once more, and smiled warmly.
They were nearly the same age, but Graeme still held on to some of
his youth. He had thin brows, a sharp nose, and purple eyes that
retained his fiery passion still to this day. Unlike Wu, the Grand
Arcanist elected to keep his face cleanly shaven. Graeme set down
his quill and paper, sat back in his chair, and crossed his
arms.

The two masters stared at each other in
silence.

"We're aging, Wu, and no matter how high we
ascend we will eventually leave this world, naturally or not,"
Graeme responded after a few moments. "It is up to us to teach and
guide those that follow. When we make our exit, it is up to them
continue in our stead."

Wu’s eyes darted to the ankh that rested on
Graeme’s desk. It was propped upright and faced him, as if
proclaiming its message not to Graeme but to whoever sought his
counsel. Wu pointed at it and smiled. “So what’s that for,
then?”

“I put my faith in it that one day it will be
there in my time of need”, responded Graeme. “All this time and you
still don’t have faith, do you? Not in the people of Arcadia,
Magia, or even the School of Eight. What do you have faith in? The
elemental gods? No, it’s just yourself, isn’t it?”

Wu scoffed. “Now, Graeme, I didn’t come to see
you for semantics. You’re just getting roused much too hard by a
simple remark.”

The Grand Arcanist leaned forward, his
expression darkening. "You and I both know something is happening
that will involve all of Ashkar. We need to be ready for it. It
seems that Liberty is reinforcing his Order of the Faith, and so
are other empires such as the Asmani. Even the High King Tethaine
and his Veri are following suit in the west, and I hear tensions
are rising with Human-Seamender relations again. Rumors are that
the two races inch closer to war despite the peace treaty. There
appears to be increased aggression between those of the land and
those of the sea, especially along travel routes, ports, and island
chains across the vast oceans."

"My old friend... we have braved war after war,”
said Wu with a toothy smile. “The Human-Seamender War, the War of
Arcadia against the Dommogin, and whatever else may come—each time
fighting for peace and emerging victorious only to languish in
these stone walls. What makes this time any different?"

Graeme loosened his expression and rose from his
chair, walking toward the open window behind him. His garment
fluttered as a cool breeze passed, scattering parchment and text.
He wore a robe much like Wu's, but colored light blue in contrast
to his own dark purple, and streaked with white. Graeme stopped and
cupped his hands in front of him, staring out the window. "You're
right. Wars will happen, empires will fall, and new ones will take
their place. Such is our nature, yet we hold on to the hope that
there is another way.”

Wu remained seated in silence, his eyes fixed on
Graeme’s back.

Graeme took in a deep breath and sighed heavily,
then turned to face Wu. "But I'm afraid this time will be
different. There is something else behind this other than wealth or
power. I fear that the quarrels between the races of Ashkar are
petty in comparison, that Ashkar faces something far beyond us. Do
you remember the prophecy I told you about? The time is drawing
near.”

“Still harping on about a legend?” remarked Wu.
“I’ve heard more conceivable bedtime stories.”

“I know you can feel it as well”, asserted
Graeme despite the other’s frivolous remark. “I am glad that we can
face whatever comes together. Just like the old days."

"Of course", Wu said, returning a smile. “Just
like the old days.”

Chapter
6

346th Dawn of the 4999th Age of Rimas

"We're lost again, aren't we?!" Erendil heard
Raxxil shout from behind as the latter continued to drag the unruly
mounts. "The hell is up with this damn mist?"

They had traveled in the direction that the
fiery orbs had floated toward for some time, yet the only
difference now was a thick mist that clouded their vision, which in
turn impeded their navigation. Wicked trees and strange vegetation
still surrounded them, though they had not encountered any animals
since the hellish beasts from before. The only sound came from
their own breaths and steady footsteps. Regardless, they carried on
without rest or pause.

Erendil had managed to wrap his bleeding arm
with Serraemas's help, but he knew his flesh was torn beyond the
aid of simple supplies; the hound's bite had left several gashes
that still bled despite the pressure the archer placed with his
left hand. While the pain was excruciating, it served as a reminder
that he was alive.

Up ahead, Serraemas slowed down before stopping
to a halt. Erendil followed suit, while Raxxil attempted to calm
the horses down.

They seem to be getting even more agitated.
Do they sense something we cannot?

The collected leader looked around. First left,
then right, and finally down. Serraemas crouched, raising his heels
off the ground as his long overcoat folded upon itself, and stopped
to examine something. With curiosity, Erendil made his way closer
and loomed over the staff-wielder. Shifting his gaze down, he
noticed that the kneeling figure clutched a strange looking vine.
It was thicker than any he had seen before, had sharp thorns, and
seemed to pulsate. Erendil scoured the ground and discovered
several other vines branching out, enveloping the foliage and other
plants around it.

How odd. The vines are engulfing anything
they touch… almost as if to consume them.

"This is what we're looking for”, Serraemas said
coolly. “We are close to our destination, but keep your guard up
for what lies ahead. Don't get entangled."

Somehow, Erendil held the notion that those
words served more of a dire warning than mere advice. Serraemas
stood up and snaked his way through the uneven terrain cautiously,
and Erendil followed right behind him. They now waded through the
strange woods staring at the ground, wary of the thick, thorny
vines that appeared to sense their presence.

As they made their way deeper, Erendil noticed
that the strange vines multiplied in number and size. Not only
that, but their influence seemed to grow as well; they now wrapped
around the accursed trees, and he noticed most of the vegetation
around them had either been uprooted or otherwise destroyed.

He sped up slightly next to Serraemas, wary not
to step on anything he shouldn't. "What has happened to these
plants? We haven't even seen an animal for—“

The sound of a loud thud and the whinnying of
horses suddenly echoed from behind them. Erendil turned around,
discovering that one of the mounts had gotten caught on one such
vine and toppled over. The vine wrapped around the horse's leg and
slithered its way up attempting to envelop the beast entirely. The
poor beast thrashed wildly in a vain struggle to free itself.
Erendil looked over at Raxxil, who was struggling to calm the other
two horses that were even more restless now.

To Erendil’s surprise, Serraemas dashed forward
in a blur and waved his arms in the air. The archer watched in awe
as a sliver of ice formed just above the quick-moving figure. It
hovered in the air momentarily before shooting toward the grasping
vines as Serraemas extended his arm. The sliver sliced through the
thick vines cleanly, embedding itself into the ground. Free from
the powerful snare, the fortunate horse was able to regain its
footing. Curiously, the severed vines flailed as they oozed a
viscous liquid.

So that's Serraemas's power. So graceful, yet
so deadly.

Raxxil opened his mouth to speak—

The fiery elementalist was cut off by a
reverberating roar that came from the direction that they were
heading in, and Erendil swore he heard a hint of pain in the
crashing sound. Once again, both he and Raxxil turned to Serraemas
for an answer.

"Don't get caught", he reminded again, offering
no other explanation as the icy elementalist dashed to the front.
He motioned for them to continue, and they waded cautiously toward
where the deafening sound came from. This time, however, Erendil
noticed that Serraemas held a more tensed posture, as if expecting
an attack at any moment. The archer mimicked the stance, and while
he would be unable to use his weapon, he could still defend
himself. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed that Raxxil was
focusing his attention on the ground, ensuring that neither he nor
their mounts become entangled. In fact, it appeared that the vines
were now aware of their presence, and slowly slithered toward
Erendil. He resorted to shuffling his feet in order to evade the
coiling plants. Another roar bellowed slightly from the right, and
they shifted course.

Gradually, the thick mist slowly dissipated, yet
Erendil had the feeling that meant that they were closer to
whatever was making such a bestial noise. He looked around once
more, noticing that the vines now nearly reached the tops of the
trees; the closer the group traveled to whatever was the source,
the more influence this strange phenomena had over the other
vegetation.

Raxxil grunted. "I thought that shit would never
en—"

Serraemas whipped his head and gave Raxxil a
stern look, silencing the hammer-wielder completely.

Erendil looked over his shoulder at his fiery
companion, who reacted by throwing up his hands and contorting his
face in an I-didn't-even-do-anything look. Still, the death stare
proved effective, and Raxxil sealed his mouth—for the time being
only, of that Erendil had no doubts. Strangely enough, the horses
had also become silent, as if wary to garner unwanted
attention.

Abruptly, Serraemas dashed to the left and
behind the base of one of the trees. He motioned for Erendil to do
the same, and for Raxxil to take guard behind another tree about
two dozen feet to their right. Erendil was curious to see what
caused the sudden motion, but decided that remaining crouched was
the best course of action. Still wary of the ground, he continued
to shuffle his feet and evade the advances of the lively vines.

Serraemas made a gesture with his hands at
Raxxil, and the latter seemed to understand the message. With his
back near the base of the tree, Raxxil leaned to his right and took
a gander at what lay ahead. He peeked for only a moment before
leaning back quickly. Looking back at Serraemas, he raised his
brows and grinned from ear-to-ear expectantly. To the hothead’s
chagrin, however, Serraemas shook his head in disapproval, and made
a second set of hand gestures. The grin suddenly vanished and was
replaced with rolling eyes. The brutish warrior muttered something
under his breath, though Erendil was too far away to discern its
contents.

Serraemas quietly motioned for Erendil to lean
closer. Erendil complied, still watching his footing.

"What lies before us is the witch's final
barrier", whispered his cloaked ally. "Beyond that, our
destination. Sneak around it quietly. This isn't a fight we want to
have… for more reasons than one."

With that, Serraemas gave a final nod to Raxxil,
and then moved to the left. Erendil watched his hammer-wielding
companion inch his way in the opposite direction before vanishing
out of sight. Not wanting to be left behind, Erendil quickly turned
and followed in Serraemas’s footsteps.

As they crept past the tree that had just
blocked his view, Erendil gaped in both horror and awe.

What lay before them was a monstrous creature
that resembled a giant flower. It rose to nearly the height of the
surrounding trees, with a thick body and two tentacle-like arms
that spanned nearly twice its body length. The smaller vines that
they had previously encountered were snaked across the ground like
roots, branching out in every direction. What seemed to be the head
jutted from the top of the stem-like body as four flaps came
together like a long snout, though Erendil could not detect any
eyes, nose, or ears.