A God’s Awakening

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Except for today. The spring mist had brought with it a chill blowing in from the north of Hathuin as I gaze out through the cavern mouth of the Tyan Mountains. Rough grey rock lay beneath where I sit, perched at the edge of a mountain face. As I look out, watching the magnificent, crystal spiked beast fly up above, its teal scales glistening in the hues of twilight, I wonder if the creature had spotted me and decided to spare me today. A small mercy. Not that they were overly vicious beings these days, mostly keeping to themselves as we thought fit to lay waste to the realm of Werilloa.

With the sun setting to the west of Elysia, the skies had become brilliant with colour; gold, amber, deep blue and velvet purple. Blotting with the first stars of nightfall, I look past the soaring dragon, happy to ignore me and whoever else was residing in the Elysian forest, seeking refuge from the terror that raged up north in Pirythiea, Konxai and Ordilyn. The former being the land of the Shamans to the west, the middle being the land of the Druids to the east and the latter being the land of the Mages in the middle. Elysia was the land of Priests, Paladins and Warriors that sat in the south. And Hathuin… The land of Necromancers, sat north.

“Aneryell!” I hear my brother heckle from within the cavern, distracting me from my stargazing and pondering of war. I sweep my eyes across the canopy, noting the glistening of the wet leaves of oak trees in the moonlight quickly rising in the sky. I had once enjoyed such things, such beauty. Now, all I did was look out for any form of danger. With the hairs rising on the back of my neck, I reluctantly rise from my seat and head back into the cavern. “The stew is almost done, I think.” Pateen, my younger brother states. He idly fiddled with his shoulder length, brunette curly hair like that of my fathers - a nervous habit he’d had since being a child. I roll my eyes and smile tightly at him, checking over the rabbit stew. The poor creatures had been hunted left, right and centre from all the fleeing civilians.

War. That’s what it was. Cold blooded, heart wrenching war. And for what true purpose? I did not know. All I knew was that Lorhan, the King of Hathuin and Necromancers, had decided he wanted to conquer the realm and rule it all by himself. Perhaps he had gone mad with blood magic, some said. I stir the stew, deep in thought, when Lotherin and Feshera both get up and stretch their weary bones. Our neighbours who had fled with us after the burning of our parents. I stomp down on the image that floods my mind, before it can do anymore damage.

“Where are you going?“ I ask, not daring to meet Lotherin’s gaze for I knew I’d crumble if I did. We hadn’t looked at each other properly for the weeks we’d been trekking to Elysia, seeking refuge. He was around my age, at 21, and Feshera was younger than Pateen who was 13, at 11. They both had short ash blonde hair with Jade green eyes. Lotherin had a perfectly angled jawline, an average sized pointed nose and muscle, lots of it. Before the war had come, he was a blacksmith, which was a strenuous activity, making him more muscular than most.

“Just to get some air.” Feshera says in that young girly way of hers, waving a hand in front of her face. “It’s stuffy in here.” I mumbled my agreement, handing them bowls of stew. I had left the least amount for myself, knowing my company needed their strength.

“You’ve hardly got any.” Lotherin grumbles, his voice gruff as if he had not spoken for days. Which he had not. We were all dealing with things.

“I have a smaller stomach.” I lie smoothly. “And you all need your strength for tomorrow as it is our final trek to Foquin.” I explain, thinking of the beautiful city I had only ever seen once as a child. It was the capital of Elysia, with sparkling silver stoned towers and citadels, and mesmerising spiralled roofed buildings.

“As do you.” He looks at me then, and I him. I hold his disapproving gaze for as long I can bear. He breaks his hold first, knowing it is a battle we did not have the energy for. With a grunt, he nods to Feshera and stomps off in the direction of the cavern entrance.

“Be careful. There’s dragons flying about out there.” I warn without giving them a second glance. Neither reply.

Once finished with the measly meal, I move to begin tidying up. As I am cleaning the bowls and spoons, I feel Lotherin’s presence behind me before I see him peer over my shoulder. His closeness was like that of a furnace on my back as he put his hands on mine and motions for me to step aside. I shiver at the informal touch.

“Let me.” He says, almost shoving me out the way. I scowl at him before marching off and begin to get out the bed rolls for the night. Pateen and Feshera eagerly lie down on theirs, sighing and stretching out their muscles. I smile slightly at them both.

“I’ll take my first watch.” I declare, moving in the direction of the cavern mouth.

Sitting back at the cavern mouth, listening to the restful breaths of slumber and gazing to the west, my homeland, I wonder what life would be like now if Hathuin had not attacked. Would I be married by now? Perhaps have a swelling belly? Or maybe baking in my fathers shop? Footsteps approaching stir me from my thoughts and I whip my head round to find Lotherin, coming to sit by my side, closer than I expected. Just as he sidled in close, pitter patters of rain began to soak the canopy and the same dragon I saw earlier glided across the sky in the opposite direction it was going earlier. Delivering a message perhaps.

“Nice weather we’re having.” Lotherin says blandly, nodding to the rain and handing me a thin blanket.

“Are we really going to discuss the weather?” I ask sarcastically, letting the amusement oil my tone. I take the blanket from him and wrap it around myself, careful to not touch him.

“What do you want to talk about, then?” He leans in closer, side eyeing me with that glint in his eye he always had when he was trying to joke around. It had always been like this before, joking, talking, laughing. Easy. Now everything felt strained, purely because he reminded me so much of the goodness of my home. Other than the fact that we had been courting, once, I believed I was to marry him and mother his children. We had been childhood friends, growing up with another. My feelings towards him were irrevocable.

“I don’t know.” I reply dumbly, chiding myself for being so standoffish. He leans back on his hands then, crossing his feet at the ankles, getting drops of rain on his boots. I turn and look at him then, admiring his face momentarily, allowing myself one minuscule capture. He looks back at me, eyeing my face, inspecting me. I knew he liked what he saw because I knew I was pretty in a subtle kind of way. If you looked close enough you’d see big honey brown eyes accented by elongated lashes with a button nose and freckles on lightly tanned skin. A shiny long brunette braid dangling over one shoulder and most importantly, curves. The Gods had blessed me with breasts and curves bigger than most for a Shaman and I knew in that moment, he was taking it all in. Then he was moving, grabbing me fiercely. I let him embrace me, taking his face in my hands as he tugged on my waist, pulling me onto his lap so that I was straddling him. Lotherin kisses me deeply then, his nose brushing against mine. I open my mouth to let him in - he is all tongue and teeth. Exploring his mouth, I put my hands in his hair and breathe him in. The scent of vanilla and chamomile hits me, even if he hadn’t bathed properly in weeks. Neither of us had. None of that mattered now, not as he was unbuttoning my white linen shirt and I his. I heard the ties to his leather trousers unfasten and once he was done with his, he moved onto mine. Taking off my shirt, he cupped both my breasts and I couldn’t help but let out a moan, throwing my head back as he kissed and snagged at my neck. He flipped us over then, so that he was on top, pulling off my trousers. Then he was sliding in me, straight down to the hilt, and I gasped, not expecting the roughness. We both needed this and I longed for it for weeks. Many times, we had done this, him being the one to take my Maidenhead. I thought of how I had missed the feel of him as he thrust into me, both of us close to finding release. As we did, the stars glinting above us, their light reflecting off the rain, I let his tender kisses to my forehead be the last thing I feel before sleep finally consumes me.

I awoke with the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention. Shouting and bellowing beneath the canopy, rustling of hurried footsteps and then the whizzing of arrows. I sat straight up, groggily looking around in the dawn sun. Gods, that was the best sleep I’d had in weeks. I motion to Lotherin who lies beside me, also naked, nudging him and telling him to keep quiet with a finger to my mouth. Hastily, we both dress and reach for our weapons - mine a dagger with a ruby embedded at the bottom of the leather bound hilt, one that my father had had made for me by Lotherin’s father. Lotherin had two, short and thin swords. Whether he could wield them I did not know, but I had seen him fight with sticks, with me, when we were children pretending to be Elysian Warriors and Paladins.

We crouch at the cavern mouth, our ears straining for any signs of battle or commotion. Then the yelling started anew, as if a group of people were chasing something. Someone, I realised. I heard the sloshing of water and saw the shimmering of a portalling spell. A Shaman and a Mage, together, pursuing someone. More arrows hurtling and then a final dying gurgle. A Hunter must’ve got the killing blow, for a third voice cheered in victory. Hunters were people that did and did not belong. They weren’t part of any particular territory and chose to roam the continent freely, setting up and residing where they wished. Skilled, fearless people who could tame any beast, including dragons, and shoot any target with a bow.

“Damn Necro scout.” Said a distorted voice - the Mage. They always sounded strange as they liked to keep one hand in the Void and the other in reality. The Void was a place in which they tapped into particular types of magic, like Portals or Arcania.

“Well done, Elaron. Good shot.” A gruff voice spoke - the Shaman, then. I looked to Lotherin who gave me a nod. Cautiously, we began to climb, more like a slide, from the cavern to greet the travellers. We could use allies for this last stretch. As we reach the bottom, they all whip round and battle stance at our not so graceful tumble at the bottom. I duck as an arrow whizzes above me. I stood and put my hands up in a peaceful manner and I began to muster my magic - water magic, the gifts bestowed upon Shamans by the Gods themselves. They all sagged with relief, but the mage still looked a little bit weary.

“Thank the Gods, you’re just Shamans.” Spoke the other Shaman first. “From where do you hail?” He asks. He is not a handsome man, nor is he a brute either. With black, short hair, dull brown eyes and a fuller stature.

“Arilon.” Lotherin simply says, distrust glinting his eyes. The Huntress whistles loudly. Elaron, her name.

“You’ve come incredibly far. Do you travel with just the two of you?” She asks, her blue crystal eyes meeting mine. She also had black hair, tied up, with pale skin and mail armour. She was pretty, I thought, but nothing breathtaking.

“No,” I say, “we travel with my younger brother and his” a nod in Lotherin’s direction, “younger sister. 11 and 13.” The Mage looks to me then, his eyes wholly silver and glimmering.

“How have you made it this far, just the four of you? Two of whom are so young, children at that.” He asks, his voice otherworldly. His short, spiked hair matched his eyes and he wore a grey, silver robe. Pointing his staff up, above the canopy, he whispered something under his breath and disappeared. Lotherin quickly made way to follow the direction his blue crystal pointed staff had pointed.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just nosy!” The Shaman bellowed loudly, amusement lighting up his features.

“We seek to go to Foquin today, to find refuge. Are you headed in that direction? There’s safety in numbers.” I ask, looking towards the body of the dead Necromancer scout. Elaron follows my gaze, as does the Shaman and both mumble their agreement.

“We are headed that way. To give a helping hand in whatever way we can.” The Shaman says grimly, as if even talking of the war that raged north made him feel sick. He shook his head and looked up at me then, inquisitiveness lingering in his eyes.

“I’m Aneryell.” I told him, knowing he had distrust. I try to smile as nicely as I can, trying to let it reach my eyes.

“I’m Hermen.” He gave me his name with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes either. The Huntress merely scoffed.

“Well, we’re acquainted then.” She walks towards me, placing her bow over her body, and puts out a hand for me to shake. I take it. “Elaron.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“The Mage is called Pheniq. But I’m sure he’ll introduce himself properly once he’s done nosing about your camp.” She snorts, the mirth on her face making her look more pretty than she did before. Suddenly Lotherin, Pateen and Feshera appear with a blink of flashing light and all three fall to the undergrowth beneath with their packs of supplies, including mine. They all groan simultaneously and begin to cough as if winded. Lotherin is the first to stand, putting his hands on his knees and catching his breath.

“It’s been a while since I portalled anywhere. I don’t know how you Mages manage it all the time.” He says between breaths. Pheniq appears moments later and just stands there, his presence odd amongst the rest of us.

“I am Pheniq.” He nods to me. And that was that.

We travelled wordlessly all day until sunset, following the rocky path that had been carved out over time. We managed to find a trickling of the river from the valley and gained more water. I drank deeply, sweaty in the oppressing heat that even the spring beat down on Elysia. I could’ve conjured some water myself, but doing so took a lot of energy and I needed my reserves for the rest of the way. We were determined to make it by nightfall.

The moonlight shone up above as we followed the direction an old, worn wooden sign had pointed in, carved with the word Foquin. Finally, we began to see more and more refugees and eventually entered a queue to get through the city gates. Some people were hugging and clapping, reunited with old or lost friends. None of us shared their merriment. No, we all seemed to have lost and only that. Many had wagons, filled to the brim with belongings of their homes or orphaned children. Disgust rose like bile in my throat. Children.

Magic sizzled in the air of those portalling in and out with goods and supplies to help those in the queue. A young Priest approached me then, offering some bread and cheese. My stomach grumbled at the sheer sight of it. I gladly took it and nodded my head at the girl, who then floated off somewhere else. Chatter was abuzz in the, thank the Gods, cooler, midnight air and the large tower of the main citadel inside the city chimed to confirm it. The city was as I remembered, although I’d never seen it at night. It glowed with auralight and the silver stone sparkled under the moon. Spiralling red roofs peaked as they went up and up the hill that the city sat upon. There was a large wooden gate we slowly approached, surrounded by guard towers and as we drew nearer, that’s when the screaming began.

Purple fire with unholy smoke erupted across the entrance to the city. It smothered my nose and suffocated my lungs as explosions sounded nearby. The screeching was like that of the sounds of my own home city being burnt, the people tortured and killed. I seized up then, fearing the worst, frozen and stuck in my memories. My heart pounded profoundly in my chest and somewhere I felt myself begin to sweat. Then Lotherin’s face was in front of mine, Pateen and Feshera huddled on the ground.

“We must run, Aneryell! Quickly!” He shouted over the roaring of pure indiluted terror, grabbing my face. I saw it then, the panic, the scrambling, the Necromancer’s marching in through the Elysian forest like a black fog and grabbing or killing any that they could. Their unholy magic was something to behold as they killed, then raised the dead to their side to kill more and carry on. Outlawed magic, banned many centuries ago. And then there were the balls of green and purple fire they hurled at the guard towers, setting them ablaze. I couldn’t bear to watch any longer.

I hastily went into action, grabbing my brother in one hand and my dagger in the other. Lotherin did the same with Feshera and a sword. Where Pheniq, Elaron and Hermen were now, I did not know. Did not care, really. Which way did we go? Back the way we came to be killed? Or into the city that was surely to be conquered come morning? Indecision was tauntingly slow when out of nowhere, Pheniq appeared and bellowed something at me. I did not hear what it was before I was moving in his direction, towards his outstretched hand. I sheathed my dagger at my hip and reached out to him. We trampled the dead or the cowering and dodged those running in whatever direction they saw fit. All I could see was Pheniq, a silver beacon in the smoke, his eyes pleading with me to reach him. Dragging Pateen along, I sprinted as fast as my legs would take me and then hauled myself through the air, finally touching fingers with Pheniq.

The Void in which Pheniq’s magic dwelled was not of this world. No, it was like being and not being as we travelled through it. I saw what looked like the sands of time floating freely in the abyss, the grains of fate tumbling down like rain and the veins of the realm throbbing with power. Where were we going? I could no longer feel Pateens hand in mine or Lotherin at my side. I just felt like I was falling and falling and falling.

I know who you are, Aneryell. Said a gentle, cunning voice. I know who you will be, Aneryell.

Who goes there? I ask, my voice not my own in this fog.

You will awaken. The now more female voice says, an urgency in her tone.

Awaken? What do you mean?

Go. Now. Star fire eyes appear in the darkness as a soft tender touch taps the centre of my forehead.

My eyes open then and dimness is all I can see. I groggily reach out and someone grabs my hand.

“I’m here.” I hear Lotherin breathe from beside me. “I am here.” He kisses my hand then, relief in his voice. I try to sit up but blinding pain shoots through my head and I fall back down, only to be caught by Lotherin’s arms.

“What happened?” I croak out. “Where are we?”

“Back at Tyan Mountain.” Pateen answers, concern lilting in his tone. An auralight appears then, blinding me, and I hiss.

“Gods that’s bright.” I breathe, putting my hand up to block out its brilliance. And that’s when everyone goes still and quiet, gasps escaping their mouths. I look round, my eyes adjusting and spot Elaron, Pheniq, Pateen, Lotherin and Feshera all gawking at me with wide eyes. “Where is Hermen?” Is all I ask. Elaron shakes her head at me with a sad smile. Dead, then.

“We have bigger problems.” Says Pheniq in that way of his. “You’ve been touched by a God.” He comes in close and crouches before me, placing a finger on the centre of my forehead. I gasp out in pain.

“What does that even mean?” Asks Lotherin cautiously, his eyes lighting with concern.

“It means that when we portalled here, a God came along in the Void and touched your friend here.” He explains, hand on his chin. I feel my forehead then and flinch from shock. A small rough crystal like rock sits there, dead centre.

“What’s wrong with me?” I ask, trying to keep the hysteria from my voice.

“It merely means you have a conduit, or a catalyst you could say, for power embedded in your body. That” he points at my forehead, “is the Mark of Kazelia. The God to rule all Gods.”