Dusk Falling (Book 1) (29 page)

The Jrahda-trethen however was not in the least affected or if he was moved at all by the same terrible sensations that wracked Aya’s mind and body, he did not show it. In fact, he had a slight smile on his face as if he knew something only he was privy to. His amber eyes were focused only on the enemy.

“I am not sssurprised that did not affect you.”

“Aral had been fond of necromancer currents so I am sorry to say I don’t even blink when confronted by them anymore.”

“Yesss, Aral.” The Verca’s eyes lidded in simmering fury. “You will not be forgiiiven for that.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be.” Without warning, the Jrahda-trethen shot forward. His speed was impressive but there was just enough time for the Nrithe to erect a shield spell. The shield was not clear like Aya’s but a dingy green-gray and when Genlo’s dark claws hit, it did not stop them like a normal summoned barrier. Instead it seemed
to latch onto the claws and hold, allowing only the slightest of gives. Like pushing through half-dried mud, Genlo saw the shields give as a weakness he could exploit until a ripple of chaotic energies swept over the sphere-shaped barrier, giving him a nasty shock. The Elfkin did not cry out, and the moment his muscles would obey once more, he continued to strive to break through.

The Nrithe regarded Genlo in the dingy grayed vision of the barrier. To think this boy had been part of Dusk Falling before he even learned of the Verca’s existence in this world was hardly fathomable. This
boy
? He was spirited but of no greatly notable talent, only possessing the power the Nrithe had expected in a disgusting union of Elf and Demonic.

Staring hard, the fleshy ends of the Nrithe’s beak curled in a sneer. This half-blood had caused Aral’s death- the shamelessly powerful mage who had enlisted the Nrithe himself into the Verca’s cause? It wasn’t possible! Dusk Falling was pinioned on a lowly creature like this? There had to be a mistake.

The shield gave off another wave of jolting energy, wracking the Elfkin’s body and momentarily seizing up his muscles but not causing him enough pain to bring him crashing down to his knees like the Nrithe wanted. He bared the pain admirably with gritted teeth, his right claw almost fully pushed through the barrier.

“Pitiful.” The necromancer said. “I had heard the stooories. Aral had spoke rather hiiighly of your potential. I had hoped for a biiigger challenge then this. You are a whelp- whatever talentsss you may have once possesssed seems to have drained out of you without your mastersss whip at your back.”

Genlo strained against the barrier, repulsed by the draining negative energies that throbbed up his arm but he did not show sign. His palm made it by, the tips of his claws ten inches from the Nrithe’s ugly face. Close enough.

Drawing on the runes that ran along the inside of his biceps to his forearms, he tapped what power he could and displayed as much ‘talent’ as the Seal would let him. He did not want to disappoint. The dark sphere materialized with the speed born from a spell that had been burned into him many a year ago. The Nrithe could not lock down the shield fast enough before the globe of darkness burst as Genlo hastily drew out his arm. The shield contained the spell momentarily but then broke completely as the Nrithe shrieked in pain and lost concentration.

Genlo danced back away as the necromancer stumbled back clutching his face.

Or what was left of it. Park of his upper beak had been blown off, the nearest eye was a bloody mess.

About to dart forward and finish it, Genlo halted as the air around him seemed to rush past him as if drawn backwards. He straightened, looking back over his shoulder. What he saw had him scurrying like a trod-on cat to get out of the way.

Aya gathered in all her anger, her fear- everything she could draw upon. The energies were wild and hard to control but the mage fought until the erratic power bent to her will and lit her hands in magefire. The spell did not fly as she had wanted, it sparked and trailers blazed off, lighting small bonfires. One such trailer missed Genlo by a hairsbreadth.

The Nrithe was not so lucky. Engulfed in the fiery torrent, the necromancer barely had time to gurgle let alone scream as his insides were boiled and his skin melted away. The pain ended as quickly as it had begun though the moment was excruciating. Caught right in the spells’ wide-range path, the Nrithe could do naught to save his own hide.

His body blew away in the wind and Aya sunk to her knees, spent. She was not aware of much for a while after that. She could hear voices nearby but they sounded strange, distant, like she was listening through a closed door. Vaguely aware of movement, she drifted out of consciousness.

Coming to, the mage opened her eyes. It was dusk. There were trees above her but stars could be seen through the gaps in between canopies. Gingerly, she rolled onto her side, her whole body feeling strained and weary. A warm presence nearby caught her attention. She reached out a hand and felt fur.

“It is I, Aya dear.” Agemeer mindspoke softly. The girl smiled in the dark, knowing his keen eyesight would see it. “You need rest.”

The mage nodded, tight lipped. She wished for the warmth of a fire or at least her blanket but got no such comforts. Curling into a fetal position, Aya used her arm as a pillow, not yet shutting her eyes.

The moonlight fell on Serrtin who sat not too far away, her back to a tree as she normally did when taking watch. She was awake but looked worn out. Reaching up, she messaged a kink in her neck, still feeling ill from the poison. There was little more the warrior wanted than a good long nap right about then but something was telling her she needed to stay awake. A silhouette came into view and the mage suddenly knew why the saurian refused to give in to the sleep her body demanded.

As silent as a stalking cat, Genlo paced. Five steps back and forth. His movements did not suggest that the Jrahda-trethen was sleepy in the least. Aya stared at him through the shadows, contemplating the Seal spell. A
normal Youkai went without sleep for days in succession. One of the runes ingrained into his skin controlled that ability, overriding the Elven need for nightly surrender. It was not an easy spell to handle for an extended period but Genlo had dealt with it most of his life.

She began to wonder at the energy level required to keep the spell functioning whilst her lids drooped. Would the barest amount of magical energy control still have the same effect? How much of it did the bolstering spell need of his energies to make it work? The sudden stiffening of the Elfkin’s shoulders drew her eyes open again.

He looked directly at her and even in the darkness, Aya knew what that look was for. She’d been concentrating on the spell and the Seal diminished in its grip. As easily as loosening a lead rope, Aya freed up the energy she deemed safe enough. Genlo went back to his pacing and Aya drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 23

Aya awoke the next morning to the sound of arguing. Agemeer sat beside her, every once in a while his furry tail giving a ‘thump’ on the ground. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she saw Serrtin and Genlo glare balefully at each other with matching obstinate stances. “What’s going on?”

“Serrtin has suggested a course that will lead us to the Verca cas Nemun Uralsk.” The old scholar said. “Whereas the young Jrahda has stated in no uncertain terms that he wishes no such confrontation. He desires a more southerly route. Seems for now, he has accepted our company on the matter, albeit grudgingly.”

Aya nodded and rose to her feet, drawing her confrontational companions’ eyes. Serrtin, Aya was pleased to see, looked to have received some well-deserved rest though it would take a good solid nights sleep to completely rejuvenate the saurian warrior’s strength to its fullest. Genlo, judging by his expression, had taken the full of the nights span to think about the situation he found himself still in and came to the same conclusion he had the night before: he did not like it.

“I will not go. Seeing as to how your last plan nearly go me put down like a dog, I would not be surprised to find you joining in on the feast at the celebration of my death at the hands of the Verca!” The Elfkin said, directing the comment to Serrtin.

“It is ridiculous to say such things. You will have to face them some day.”

“Wrong. As long as I keep out of their reach, I’ll most likely outlive the lot of ’em.”

“That’s a cowardly way of putting it.” Serrtin rejoined tersely. “Their stronghold must be in Thabinthira or its outlying lands…”

“I said no.” Genlo said again, sounding miraculously like a recalcitrant child to Aya’s ears. So much so, she almost giggled at the thought and had to cover the indiscretion with a cough. They were getting along (somewhat) at least she could say that much. Alright, maybe ‘getting along’ was too strong of a word…

“What then? Just run away and keep running? Listen you, you are stuck with us whether you like it or not. That spell is not coming off until we either find Kcrie or someone with the know-how to reverse the spell. And you can bet I won’t be trying hard for the latter with your attitude.” Serrtin said.

“I am going south.” He stated flatly.

“For what end? You would have to hole up in a cave in Thabinthira for centuries for them to ever forget you live.” Serrtin told him then tossed up her hands. “It’s not like we expect you to face them on your own. We are willing to help.”

Genlo’s face lost its frown and he studied the ground. When he looked up at the towering Yarcka next, he smiled a feral smile. “If you were willing to help, you wouldn’t hinder me.”

“What’s the supposed to mean?” She responded with a raised brow. She uncrossed her arms. Genlo dropped the smile and pointed to Aya. “I told you already that you have to earn our trust. As of right now I have no doubt in my mind that you’d try something we wouldn’t appreciate the moment the Seal is relaxed just a degree too comfortable. You can’t have everything your way so don’t argue.”

“This is pointless.” The youth complained futilely.

“At least we agree on that much. We’re out of supplies. First things first, we got to restock.” The saurian said, taking charge of their next move. “Aya, ready?”

“Yea.” The mage responded.

They had no idea their current position only that they went west from the Niredes Votalo keep. Scouting parties could be out in force but they had no way to tell. The terrain was dry, the trees kept the ground cool. Patches of grass sprouted here and there, wilted brown from lack of moisture. The way was tough, bits of rocks rutted up to stick the unwary in the sole of the foot.

West eventually found them standing upon the Mirskarr, a stretch of land between the five Provinces of Zarhethe and the LeafRun Forest- the forest being home to the Clouprihn villages. Agemeer mentioned of his visit to one such village, the forest was warm and inviting. So were the people. A little too inviting and though the old scholar did not say anything ill of the Clouprihn populace, he did say he would rather avoid a repeat visit if at all possible. The Clouprihn race, living a somewhat isolated existence between hills and desert were veritably renowned for its hospitality of strangers- especially of said strangers’ provisions. Outside objects were of extreme fascination for the cousins of the Dwarprihn for they possessed much of the intelligence of the Dwarprihn but little of their patience and reserve.

The team agreed further south would only bring them more unneeded trouble.

Serrtin smirked at Genlo, feeling it necessary to rib the youth about his want for travelling south. “Clouprihn’ll have you wishing for the Votalo’s quick death in under a week.”

The Mirskarr was name for the strange composition of the lands underfoot. Saplings dotted the area of sparse hills. The ground was carved through in deep rivulets like claw marks of a great dragon God. Sharp pinnacles jutted up as if that same dragon God had slammed his immense feet and tail into the ground and the pressure caused the rock below it to rush up to the surface. The Mirskarr was a terribly bleak landscape.

Serrtin looked back the way they came. “If we find ourselves followed, I’d doubt they’d be willing to search the entire Mirskarr- probably’d continue the search near Mehrkarn and Le’insurad. Or the Hills of Hawkshire.”

“The Verca will not give up. Both sects will eventually regroup and renew the hunt once more. They always do.” Genlo said without emotion, taking in the view. Lightly, he sprung up onto a gray rock formation, the move evident of his Elven blood for none of the team- not even Agemeer- could make such an effortless jump. He slid down the opposite side on his feet in a smattering of loose crumbly rock.

Agemeer went up the less-steep embankment to the side, sniffing the air as he went. Serrtin and Aya found an easier route into the Mirskarr, neither able to keep up with Elven grace or Wulfen stamina. The way was not easy after that, Aya nearly twisted her ankle upon a scar only twenty minutes into the lands. Noon passed and stomachs grew plaintive. Agemeer suggested he try to find something he could bring down or sniff out some edible plant life but the Mirskarr had little to offer. What small mammals there were did not stray far from their undergrounds burrows and the footing was too rocky for much plant life that could offer sustenance beyond scrub and grass, though berry vines were a possibility. He would have to travel out of safe range to hunt and Serrtin told him she did not think it was a wise idea. They would have to wait to fill their empty bellies.

“Where did that Elf get off to?” Serrtin cursed, irritated in general at the slow going and rough cutting stones. Her large clawed feet had little problem with the terrain but the rocks that hid under seemingly innocuous dirt clods were beginning to grate. If she was anything other than a tough-skinned Yarcka, she would have been bleeding in several places. “I turn my head for one damn second, and he-”

“I’m right here.”

Coming up a ravine, they found Genlo sitting on the other side.

“Taking a break, are you?” Serrtin said, testily.

“No.” He responded. “I figured that since your tracking skills are deplorable at best,” He brought up a knee and wrapped an arm around it. “you might be interested in knowing about our follower.”