Strength and power are not one and the same. When my subjects first learned of my awakening, they worshipped me as if I was a god. Whether by admiration or fear, I am unsure. They thought I was merciless, and all-powerful. But strength was not the key to my rule. You see, strength without power is nothing but a target laid upon your head.
- Galath Areias, The First
Cadyr Areias
"Focus Cadyr, feel the Veil. Allow its will to flow into you." Drefyr spoke, his deep, commanding voice filling every empty space in the large training arena where we stood, like water flowing to fill its container.
I looked inwardly, feeling the magic at my fingertips. Wind magic, my attunement, melding together with fire element magic, forging a powerful combination.
Lightning.
"Yes, there," he said, moving his slender frame away from where he had been standing only moments ago. "Now, focus, forge it, let it take shape."
I concentrated hard, imagining the lightning moving and flowing into the shape of a weapon. Something between the length of a broadsword and spear, with jagged edges in the form that natural lightning would take as it fell from the heavens.
The Veil slowly answered my command, the "murmurs" permeating the farthest corners of my consciousness.
"Silence them," Drefyr continued, as if he could see straight into my mind, "Drown out its distractions, like the falling rain behind a glass window."
I took his advice, slowly pushing the whispers away. There was a time and place, but never in the field of battle.
"Now!" My uncle yelled suddenly, striking at me with an earthen sword he had procured in an instant.
My eyes flew open, the blade of pure electricity held in my hand.
I turned my gaze to my uncle. His tall, lean frame flew towards me. He wore a plain black tunic, with a small, brown cloak. His hair was an odd blend of short, black and silver hair, shaved so low you could barely make it out without squinting. He had a razor sharp jaw and high set cheekbones. A single, long scar cut across his left eye.
I barely had time to admire my electric creation before I had to raise the blade, blocking Drefyrs swift strike.
I flew back, using the winds to hasten my escape, but he was faster, surging upon me relentlessly.
"Hey now," I taunted, despite the strain I was placing on my body, both to maintain the weapon in my hand and to block Drefyrs powerful, heavy strikes. "Don't tell me you've grown old uncle!"
"Even if I was an ancient wise man who had lost his ability to walk, crawl, or tumble, you would never be able to defeat me!" He called back, quickening his movements. I could see his unique manifestations of primal and advanced magics that no other walker in the kingdom, perhaps, even the world was able to replicate. Lightning clad his every movement, moving along the surface of his body like a cloak of pure magic.
A portion of earth underneath my leg gave way, morphing into Drefyrs sand magic, a unique combination of the primal elements, earth and air.
I wasn't quick enough to escape the attack, and as quickly as the ground had changed, it morphed once again, holding me in place—like a tree that had been planted hundreds of years ago.
At that moment, Drefyr quickened his movements once again, moving at such a speed he was nearly imperceptible to the naked eye. I felt the sharp edge of his stone sword at my neck, and one strong hand holding the hand wielding my lightning blade, clamping my arm still. So strong it was hard to decide whether my arm or my foot had been rendered less mobile.
"Alright alright I yield old man," I relented, Drefyr instantly freed both my arm and foot, and I let the concentration I had been using to manifest my weapon fall away, the electricity harmlessly fading from existence.
"Good work Cadyr, that was much longer than last time!"
"When the last time only lasted five seconds, I guess you could say that," I chuckled back, "although, I'll get you next time for sure! The guards will tell the tale of the day Drefyr, the great and powerful, succumbed to but a boy in training!" I declared, gesturing toward the two guards standing by the gates of the arena. They did not react, simply staring ahead into empty space.
"I'm sure they will, the same way the proverbial turtle tells tales of the day he once defeated the hare in a race."
"Do not poke fun at me, I will have your head!" I replied in jest.
"I would like to see you try." He warned, a cocky glimmer in his eyes.
Drefyr Asharim. The name was known throughout Karouse, and the exploits of his battles were just as, if not more widespread in the Kingdom to the east, Velamir. He was a legendary hero, both feared, and respected
His confidence was not misplaced. Among the royals of Karouse, none would dare challenge my uncle in combat. Not even my father, one of the strongest walkers in the kingdom, would dare contend with his half brother in matters of violence. Even I myself could not hope to defeat him, yet..
"Well that wraps up training for the day, I will see you tomorrow, same time," he concluded, before pausing, seemingly thinking. "By the way Cadyr, I wanted to ask you about that boy-"
"Crown prince! Lord Asharim! His majesty requests your presence at once!" A guard burst through the gates of the arena, panting slightly.
Me and Drefyr turned to glance at each other, both of our faces like mirrors of surprise. A summons at this time of the day? And for both of us? We both seemed to ask.
We hurriedly followed the guard back to the Throne room, where my father typically sat, hearing the pleas of common and royal bloods alike, doling out assistance when deemed necessary. But, rather than sitting on his throne like usual, he was pacing the castle's balcony, hands behind his back, seemingly talking to someone.
I realized that someone was Cornelius, the adviser and personal assistant to the king. Of all the people in Karouse, Cornelius was likely the least fond of me. He had a greasy exterior, short and stout, like a mushroom pushed deeply to the ground. He had a frantic look on his face, like he had spilled milk all over my fathers bed sheets.
That did happen once. I thought to myself, smiling at the memory.
As we approached the balcony, I could hear only the tail end of their conversation before my father noticed us.
"What a mess, you know that now- Ah, Son, brother." He greeted us, a sort of slow venom hanging onto his last word. He was not so fond of my uncle, and of course I knew that my late grandmother had birthed him with a common blood man. However, there seemed to be something else lurking beneath the surface whenever the two interacted with each other, and a tainted bloodline did not seem like the only explanation.
"You summoned us, m'lord," Drefyr spoke first, an air of quiet hostility surrounding his words. "What for?"
"There has been an incident in a nearby village, Kemmerick." He replied with a noble cadence. Calm, collected, and commanding. "A flood, many citizens have been displaced, their homes destroyed. I want both of you to fly there and aid in their recovery any way you see fit." He gestured below, to the grounds beneath the castle and towards the capital's military barracks. "Bring court guard three with you, they have already been briefed on the situation."
"A flood? But there has been no rain fall in weeks at least, where-" I started.
"Sometimes things occur, some that are hard to understand. Who are we to deny fate?" My father cut me off with a tone of finality. "I recommend you leave now. Reports from the first scout party seem to show that the situation has grown dire," He paused, walking forward, stopping at the edge of the balcony. "I have business to attend to. Farewell." He leapt off the edge, momentarily disappearing from view, before activating his wind magic and soaring into the sky.
Cornelius regarded us, shooting me a particularly nasty look, before slinking off to whatever dirty hole he had crawled out from.
I watched my uncle, he stroked his chin slowly, but his expression was completely blank. I couldn't tell what thoughts were running through his mind. Eventually, he broke the silence, gesturing to me as he spoke.
"Come then boy, let us aid our friends in need."
—
My eyes widened in shock, the wind soaring past me, pushing my long, silver hair back as we neared the village. I noticed Drefyrs experienced gaze, one that had seen so much tragedy and destruction, as even he let the emotion show on his face.
I had been to Kemmerick a few times before. It was the largest village among the major settlements within the forest surrounding Darrowmere, and on its own it could've passed for a decently sized city in itself. It was situated at the bottom of a shallow valley, and I recalled memories of tall wooden structures, farm land, and children running among the fields.
It was as if it was never there to begin with.
The entire village had been levelled to the ground, the remains of the once tall, ancient, and powerful trees had been blown from their stumps, leaving behind only fractured fragments of wood and branches in the flood's wake. The houses and fields that had once stood in the sprawling valley were reduced to rubble, even the foundations were seemingly uprooted from their spots, washed away by the torrent of water. The sight before me erased any and all signs of humor I could possibly conjure up in that moment.
"How is this possible? There's… nothing left." I said aloud with a heavy space between words, to no response. Drefyr had a grim expression, and the squadron of soldiers from the third court guard behind me were silent, taking in the view below us.
As we neared the village, we saw straggling villagers still recovering from the disaster. Tents had been pitched on the crest of the valley, likely from the original scouting group sent to the scene. Guards stood post, holding long spears reaching to the ground and above their heads, along with small, rounded shields in their offhand.
"Who is the commanding walker of this operation?" Drefyr questioned as we landed.
The guard looked startled, as if he hadn't expected to be spoken to, but he quickly recognized Drefyr and straightened, looking straight ahead.
"Lord Asharim! Ahem-" He coughed, clearing his throat nervously before continuing, "Arcanist Ronan Gale is the commanding officer of this rescue and response squad m'lord." He finished, evoking the military title of the officer in question.
"Good man," Drefyr replied, patting the soldier on his shoulder, "would you mind fetching him for us?" He gave a tight smile, but his words felt urgent and commanding. The soldier immediately jumped up, moving to grant the request.
The Arcanist quickly briefed us on the situation. Less than an hour had passed since the wave had hit, and many villagers had been caught in the initial flow of water. The death count likely numbered in the hundreds, yet still more and more bodies were being recovered from the rubble. Some injured, some unconscious, barely holding on to life, and some already having passed into the world beyond. Attempts to reroute the water from where it had pooled near the center of the valley were underway, with many walkers already siphoning the liquid away and into nearby streams, careful to control its flow, not wanting to cause yet another flood.
This is where Arcanist Gale had designated me and a handful of other members of court guard three.
I steadied my mind, shaking the thoughts of destroyed houses and flooded fields from my consciousness, focusing only on the task at hand. The whispers of the Veil began, but just as quickly I pushed them away, creating an almost eerie stillness within my mind.
The water flowed, rising up into the air and flying to the edge of the valley. It was a controlled mass, only small droplets falling to the ground where they lay atop the already soaked grass and foliage beneath my feet. I floated a few feet from the ground, carrying the water with me, slowly siphoning it into the lake on the eastern edge of Kemmerick, or at least, what once was Kemmerick.
It was then that I heard a frantic voice calling out, urgent and pleading.
I dropped the remains of the liquid into the lake before turning my gaze, rising a few more feet into the air to achieve a heightened vantage point. I spotted the waving arms, familiar ones.
The boy from the other day, Renric, was there, dropping his waving arms and frantically attempting to lift a fallen support beam.
Why is he here? I questioned mentally, but there was no time to deliberate. Someone needed my help.
I surged forward, willing the light breeze present in the air to quicken, pushing me ahead as I landed next to the boy.
"There's someone under here, I-" He squeezed, straining his lean, tight muscles in his arms and back as he attempted to physically lift the large beam of wood.
I saw a single thin leg poking from beneath the rubble, and immediately leapt into action. "Stand back," I called out, before focusing once more on the Veils' powers, this time, accessing the primal magic of the earth element as I raised the ground on either side of the beam, slowly lifting it from the ground.
Renric wasted no time, rushing forward as soon as the beam had risen to the point that the woman's torso was freed, pulling her still and calm body from the rubble. It seems she had grown unconscious while underneath the beam. I relaxed, allowing the earth to return to its earlier shape, dropping the beam back to the ground with a loud thump.
Before I could even move to help, I watched as the boy quickly glanced around him, perhaps checking for others to aid in the woman's recovery? But quickly, I realized why he had done so.
He steadied a hand above the women's chest, closing his eyes, and I recognized that he was attempting to channel the Veils magic. Had he already progressed to the point of being able to use healing nature magic? I wondered, so shocked the words nearly spilled forth from my lips. But instead of the nature magic, a combination of the primal elements of earth and water, that I was accustomed to seeing the healers and medics of the royal court guards use, he simply guided the water from within the womens body, removing it from her lungs.
Yet still, the women did not move and I moved closer, wanting to help.
"Let me, I can-" But before I could even finish my sentence, he had begun another process, and I could see the flow of wind element magic rushing into the womens mouth, undoubtedly filling her lungs with fresh oxygen. In between supplying breaths, he pumped her chest with two hands clasped on top of each other at a steady rhythm.
He repeated this process a few times before sitting back. I watched in amazement as the woman coughed once, then twice, her eyes fluttering open as she greedily sucked in a large breath. Then, as if the strain had been too much, she let her head fall back and closed her eyes. However, I could still see her chest rising and falling.
He had saved her.
His precision and use of primal magic was impressive, especially for a boy who claimed he had never accessed the Veils powers more than a handful of times before, and with very little formal training.
Special. A voice rang out, permeating my entire skull. It was familiar, yet distant, like the muted cracklings of a dying flame.
It had been months since the Veil had last spoken to me as clearly as it did now. It was a sensation that all royal bloods who had awakened had the potential to experience, but not many could will the Veil to speak to them, no, the Veil chose who it let hear its voice.
But its voice did not bring me an answer, rather it only sprouted questions within my mind. Why this boy? Special? In what way?
"That was amazing, have you been practicing since I last saw you?" I asked, shooting Renric a familiar grin.
"It- it was nothing." He turned, voice shaky as if he could barely believe what he had just done. "Who is-" his voice trailed off, as he seemed to stare above me at the figure likely responsible for the shadow that had suddenly appeared directly in front of me.
The man behind me stepped to the side, and I immediately recognized it as Drefyr.
"Drefyr! This is-"
He put a hand up, stopping me mid-sentence, "the common blood who accessed the Veil." he finished, scanning the boy up and down. "I have been meaning to meet you, Renric, right? I am-"
But even for this common blood, seemingly ignorant to the power that lay in his grasp, the stories of the Veil blessed hero had not failed to reach his ears.
"Asharim, D- Drefyr Asharim, I am familiar with you."
"Great, well…" My uncle leaned down, letting his lips fall beside the boy's ear, whispering something in a hushed tone that I was unable to make out. He stood back, and Renric's eyes slightly widened, but he did not let emotion cloud his facial expression, instead remaining still.
Curiosity struck me, like that day when I had first met Renric all over again, what secret could Drefyr have possibly whispered, a secret he hid from even me?
"Cadyr here, my pupil, he told me about you and your adventures. I've been wanting to meet you. Do you have a spare moment to talk?"
Renric shook his head, his eyes shimmering as if he had suddenly remembered something. "I am sorry, but that will have to wait. The situation back in my village is as similarly dire as it is here in Kemmerick. I must tend to things back home before-"
"What is happening in Stonewick?" I replied, curiosity jumping from my words like sparks of electricity from a thunderbolt.
"Villagers from Kemmerick, flocking to our gates. Those of us who were able to let some into our homes, but there is not enough room for everyone, Stonewick is many times smaller than Kemmerick is…" He stopped, before continuing "was… and I'm not sure what we will do with the remaining refugees."
Drefyr seemed to pause, once again stroking his chin in thought, but an idea was already forming with my head.
"Bring us to the village, I have a plan." I replied confidently.
"You do?" Drefyr said in confusion.
"Of course." I stated simply. Turning to face Renric expectantly.
The boy looked back at my gaze skeptically, before seemingly relenting. Gesturing at us to follow him with a wave of his hand.
—
The cheers were deafening as we entered into the gates of Darrowmere. The common blood villagers in tow, clutching their scattered belongings, some being transported by horseback or laying down in wagons slowly recovering from the natural disaster that had wiped out their village only hours before.
Wealthy common bloods who permeated the capital's residential district stood on the streets and balconies, clapping and cheering on our entrance, as if we had just returned from a successful battle against the eastern kingdom of Velamir.
"Please, welcome these noble souls! The war hero, Lord Drefyr Asharim and son of King Tharion, the crown prince of all Karouse, leapt into action as soon as news of the disaster in Kemmerick reached their humble ears!" The nasally voice of Cornelius rang, loud and clear throughout all of Darrowmere. I spotted the wind channels, tunnels of air forged by wind attuned walkers stationed throughout the capital, carrying his small, high pitched, and irritating voice far and wide. His voice continued to call out as I reflected.
We had enacted my plan, to bring all the refugees from the Kemmerick flood to Darrowmere, affording them refuge in the many vacant and empty buildings within the capital. Citizens who could actually afford to live within Darrowmere itself were not plentiful, and so many of its homes and buildings were empty throughout most of the year, only filling when the annual royal showcase was on display. I had sent a messenger from the third court guard to relay the message to my father, hoping that he would prepare rooms for the refugees.
I didn't quite expect all of this.
I watched as Drefyr took in the sight before him, his face expressionless, but below the surface, I sensed something else. A complicated, and hidden emotion.
"Games, always games with you, isn't it, Tharion." He muttered under his breath, so low I could barely hear.
What is he talking about? I thought to myself. Sure, this parade was a little over the top, but it seemed to me like the news of our good deed had simply inspired the citizens of Darrowmere. Celebrating the exploits of heroes was not an uncommon occurrence in the capital, and it seemed like there were more days where the people had something to cheer on than not.
—
I watched as the last of the refugees funneled into their new, temporary homes. A small child, a boy, only waist height compared to his father waved at me. I waved back, a childish grin lighting up on my fave. I observed the boy, his elder brother, and parents as they closed the door to the tall, intricately designed house.
Satisfied, I channeled the Veil, willing the winds to push me into the air, soaring to the window where my chambers lay, my large, red sheeted mattress awaiting me. I floated forwards, softly stepping down onto the ledge and slipping my body slowly into my room.
Inside however, a surprise awaited me.
Drefyr stood, seemingly expecting my arrival.
"Uncle? What are you doing here?"
"Oh, nothing much I just-" He paused, motioning me closer. I obeyed, stepping forward. He leaned in, whispering into my ear, "Not everything is always as it seems Cadyr, you would do well to remember that." He turned, slowly stepping away.
"What do you mean?" I questioned, tilting my head to the side inquisitively.
"Think of it as just another lesson of mine," He replied mysteriously, stepping one foot out of the door before pausing once again. "Sleep well Cadyr, we have business to attend to tomorrow." He finished, leaving my room and gently closing the door behind him, not with his hand, but rather a slow, gentle gust of wind.
His words played again in my head. Not everything is always as it seemed? What is he talking about? Is this about my father? Renric? The flood in Kemmerick?
Perhaps all three?
My mind spun, obstructing my ability to sleep, but eventually I succumbed to the darkness, hoping within my heart that my dreams would afford me a sense of comfort.
But the darkness was not comforting.
My rest was plagued by visions, visions from the Veil itself. At first only flashes and whispers, nothing clear, but eventually settling into a single, striking image.
My fathers bloody head, laying at the feet of a figure, a figure shrouded in darkness.
I awoke, my chest racing, sheets drenched in sweat.
Something is wrong, I thought to myself, fear grasping at my very soul.