Tales of Eleutheros

Robert squinted his eyes at the strange sunrise before him. He had been asked by Alektor, his new brother, to accompany Turak and Demessa to meet with Queen Mundiri of the Visgo, a powerful seafaring clan directly to the south of Rexun. There was no hesitation in the man. He knew it would give him more insight into the world he now called home. To make things more appealing, he was treated extremely well.

“My Prince Reku.” A young Rexunii warrior called from behind him. “Lord Turak wishes to speak with you.”

Robert nodded, turning to walk toward Turak’s tent, which was large and in the center of the small encampment of around thirty warriors, a sizable fighting force, all of them elite.

As Robert opened the cloth flap, a gust of warm air blew past his face. Within, he saw a large stone table that had been grown from the ground itself. On the surface of the table was a detailed map of the surrounding area, with small villages and mountains that were surprisingly realistic looking.

Turak, Demessa, and two Rexunii officers stood around the table, all pointing and discussing something. Robert approached, and Turak looked up to greet him.

“Ahh, Reku. So nice of you to join us,” he said, waving him over. “We were just discussing the best possible route to Pontos, the capital city of Visgo.”

Robert approached the table, standing between Turak and Demessa, who greeted him with only a small bow of respect.

“This is Lord Richoro and Lady Yadri.” Turak pointed at the two officers, who saluted as their names were called.

Turak placed his hands on the stone table. “Today, we will be entering Visgo territory. We have an agreement with Queen Mundiri for safe passage, but there still may be trouble. Several houses that border our lands have called the Rexunii their sworn enemies and have not taken kindly to this truce. They would not dare attack us using the clan colors, so beware of ‘brigands’ on the road.”

Richoro chuckled. “They would be fools indeed if they wished to fight this force.”

“We must not wander into any area where they can easily exploit our lack of numbers,” Turak said. “This wouldn’t be a band of outlaws, but trained warriors disguised as them. I have it on good authority that they will attempt this attack as soon as we enter their territory. So, in order to avoid this bloodshed, we must find a way into Visgo they do not expect.”

“On good authority?” Robert asked. “You have a spy?”

Turak shrugged his shoulders. “Something like that.”

“No doubt one of your lovers,” Demessa said, almost under her breath.

The two officers chuckled slightly, scoring a glare from Turak.

“She is not a lover. She is a very reliable source of information.”

“Well,” Yadri said, her voice much softer than Robert was expecting. She was a tall and imposing-looking woman with an air of authority about her, several small scars on her face. “There are several small villages that dot the border. We should avoid them at all costs, under the assumption that they are all of questionable loyalty. Perhaps over the mountains.” She pointed to some very large looking mountains on their stone map. “It will be difficult, but I think this is the best way to go. Even if they decide to attack us in these mountains, it is far enough from any of the villages that they will lack proper support. The attacks will be weaker and less often.”

Turak rubbed his chin, looking at Demessa and Richoro. “What do you think?”

As they began to speak, Robert’s hearing began to fade. After several moments, all he could hear was the beating of his heart.

“The mountains are not the way…” Dio’Mar’s voice hissed in his mind. “They will find you there… they will ambush and kill many of your warriors...”

“What do you mean?” Robert asked, not sure if he had spoken the words out loud.

“Mundiri is tricking you… she doesn’t want you to reach her capital... cunning will save the lives of your warriors, but that alone will not win the heart of this Queen… she will have to see your power… she must fear you…”

“So, what do we do? If she doesn’t want to meet with us, then why would she ask for us to go and promise us safe passage?” Robert asked, his voice slightly afraid.

“She…. is trying to appease supporters of your king… this way, she can show she made an attempt to meet, but also remain loyal to the Torre’... attack… show them… that the Rexunii do not cower from battle… that you thirst for it… destroy one of their villages… they will not expect you to attack one of them… then disappear into their wilderness… I can shadow you… we must reach the capitol… she can’t harm you there… lest she lose the support of half her court.”

Robert came to his senses, and his hearing came back in a split second. To his surprise, he saw the four Rexunii warriors all looking at him, confused.

“Are you alright, Reku?” Turak asked, concerned.

“No… I mean, yes! Never mind, listen to me!” Robert put his hands on the table and closed his eyes. Be brave. You have to be brave, he thought. “It’s a trap, Mundiri has betrayed us. There are warriors all over that border, even in the mountains, just waiting to ambush us.”

“The Queen. Who promised us safe passage?” Demessa asked, sarcasm in her voice.

“Yes,” Robert said. “She knows about the rogue lords. In fact, she’s behind the whole damn thing.”

“Why would she attack us after promising us safe passage across her lands? That makes no sense,” Yadri asked.

“No,” Robert continued, “it makes sense. She never wanted a treaty with us, but half of her court does. She’s been struggling to maintain her power for many years, holding on only by the continued support of the Torre’. If she defies them, they pull their support, and she eventually loses power. If she openly attacks us, the balance is tipped by her political enemies who support us and hate the Torre’, and she might lose power that way. This way, she can blame rogue lords who have a grudge, keeps both parties happy, and she is free to stay in power another day.”

All the Dae stared blankly at him for several moments, the expressions on their faces one of amusement and disbelief.

“How do you know all this?” Demessa asked. “These are very detailed accusations. I wasn’t aware you had such an in-depth understanding of Dae clan politics.”

Robert sighed and hung his head. “Dio’Mar told me,” he said, bringing an eerie silence to the room.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Yadri asked.

“Dio’Mar told me we have to attack one of the villages. They are not expecting us to attack them, that maybe even the fact that we were fed this information could be a part of their plan. She said we have to attack, draw blood, and show them that we are not afraid of this war, that we welcome it.”

Turak looked at the stone table, his face one of deep contemplation. “This is insane,” he said.

“Why does she not appear now and tell us this herself?” Richoro asked. “I would be more inclined to believe it if this spirit showed herself!”

“She doesn’t have to,” Demessa said, taking a step closer to Robert. “Prince Reku has a connection with this spirit. I have seen Dio’Mar, and I will prove to her that I am faithful.” She turned to Robert and put her hand on his shoulder. “What else did she say?”

Robert took a deep breath, not fully trusting the words that came from his own mouth. “She said we should hit one of the villages. Destroy it, kill the warriors, and hide in the shadows. Make our way to the capital, then reveal ourselves. Once we reach the capital, there isn’t anything she can do to stop us. She will be forced to hear our side.”

“How the hell do we hide from them in their own land? We have no real knowledge of this territory,” Yadri said. “Visgo is mountainous, yes, but even with these maps, we can’t hope to outsmart people who have lived here all their lives!”

“She will help us stay hidden,” Robert said.

Richoro and Yadri both scoffed and looked at Turak, who was still in deep thought. “My Lord,” Yadri continued. “The best course of action is stealth, I agree, but if we are going to be fighting our entire way to Pontos, we can not hope to reach it. I thought it was just several rogue lords with a bone to pick, but thirty warriors against an army? We must reconvene with King Alektor, see what he says.”

Turak grunted. “I know exactly what that—” He caught himself. “What our king will say. He will agree with Reku; we must have faith in Dio’Mar.”

“But my Lord!” the two officers said almost in unison.

“Enough!” Turak said, slamming his fist on the table. “Return to your war-groups. Tell them that we are no longer here on a diplomatic mission. Tell them that we are here to spill the blood of our enemies, no matter which land they call home. Tell them that we will live in the shadows and eliminate all who stand against us. Tell them to prepare for battle.”

-

Robert struggled with the bulky bone armor under his cloak while shifting from left to right on his Cro’kan as they moved toward their objective. The beast was much more disciplined than the near-feral one he was forced to ride with Turak, so there was at least that.

“Let me help you to adjust your armor,” Demessa said, striding beside him on her own mount. “You aren’t accustomed to wearing such things, I take it. Worry not, I shall help you.”

Robert was silent as she worked but did manage to smell the faint, alluring fragrance she was wearing. “Why are you being all… nice to me now? We didn’t exactly leave our last meeting on the best terms.”

Demessa sighed as she finished her work. “You know, I had never seen a spirit before that day. To be honest, I never quite believed they had as much power as all the Espi-Dae said. I thought it was all foolish nonsense that people believed in to keep themselves and others in line. We all knew they existed, but… you know.” She paused. “Then I met you, a strange and vile creature from another world. A demon, we called you. You didn’t look like much to me, but you know that already. I didn’t hate you, just thought nothing of you. Then I saw you broken and bloodied on that table, your body was torn to shreds, and I felt such guilt that I could not look at myself in the mirror after. I knew then that I was right, that the stories I had been told of demons and spirits were all just a fantasy. Their power was inferior to that of the Dae and should not be revered.”

Robert listened carefully, afraid to even breathe lest he interrupt her.

“Then Dio’Mar appeared before me, and I felt…” A tear began to roll down her cheek, and for a moment, her green eyes gleamed like the purest emerald stones. “I felt… the most immense power, a strength that shook me to my core, even still. A vast, ancient ocean of Dunamis that seemed almost endless. I thought it was her power, the true power of a spirit. I had been wrong, until she disappeared, and I realized that it was you that I felt. She showed me your power, and it made me thankful that I would have a second chance to prove myself to you.” She looked Robert in the eyes, stone determination on her face. “I will follow you, Prince Reku, and I will redeem myself to you.”

“There it is!” Richoro called from the front of the formation.

Robert looked on to see a village in the distance, sitting snug between two mountains. This was the only passable route for probably a hundred miles, according to the map that Robert had studied. He looked at the structures and defenses, and he could tell that this was once a strong defensible position many hundreds of years ago. Its wall was about ten feet high, in serious need of repair, but he could see the outlines of dozens of warriors on top.

“They wear no clan colors,” Richoro said, “yet they act as a garrison to this village.”

“It looks more like an outpost,” Yadri said, striding to the front. “Are you sure this is wise, Lord Turak?”

Turak followed slowly, and Robert could see that he had donned the strange horned mask he had worn the day they met. Memories flashed through his mind, of blood and fire, of the severed head of his friend Veol at his feet, staring up at him with vacant eyes.

Demessa removed a helmet from her pack and handed it to Robert. “My Lord.” She gestured for him to take it.

“Why?” he asked, hesitantly taking it.

“It’s a fobos,” she said. “A helmet that has been tradition throughout all Eleutheros for thousands of years. We wear these into battle.”

Robert took a deep breath and slid it over his face. It was surprisingly comfortable, sitting snug around his ears but not impeding his hearing. He looked then at Demessa, her bright green eyes almost glowing from behind the eye holes.

“Are you ready?” she asked him, her voice slightly muffled from the helmet.

Robert nodded and checked his armor once more.

Again, his hearing faded, and he could feel the presence of Dio’Mar around him. She appeared sitting atop the head of the Cro’kan he was riding, her small form a welcome sight to him.

“Remember what I taught you… Robert… you do not have to explain yourself to them… just use your power…” she said, her unmoving mouth curling into a smile.

Over the time Robert had known this little spirit, she had taught him things about the Dunamis that apparently had been forgotten over thousands of years. Today, he was going to use his power to shroud their attacking force, something he had practiced many times, unbeknownst to his traveling companions. Why learn from a Dae warrior when you could learn from a spirit?

“I got it,” he whispered to her.

“Be safe, my little human… I cannot intervene much now… as you know…”

Robert opened his hand and summoned a small cyclone of black mist. He would use this as they charged, and the defenders wouldn’t know what hit them.

~

Turak reached back and grabbed the handles of both his swords that he wore, crossed on his back. They slid from their scabbards easily, and he hefted them as he usually did before battle. It was always the same feeling to him, the curdling of one’s stomach before the inevitable clash of Dunamis and bone. He inhaled deeply, raising his right arm high, brandishing his curved blade for his warriors to see. Then he brought it down and kicked his Cro’kan in the sides, causing it to jolt forward with a burst of speed. All the elite warriors of Rexun followed in tow.

There was a thunder of heavy feet slamming into the grassy soil as the Rexunii warriors galloped down a hill into the valley that led to the fortified village. It was a killing ground for any who dared charge the walls. The village was positioned between two mountains, with a wall before it, facing the valley, a defender’s dream. It would be a difficult attack, and Turak knew that he would have to face the inevitable possibility of losing some of his warriors; it couldn’t be helped.

As they came into view of their enemy, Turak heard a cheer from behind him. He turned to see Robert riding high on his Cro’kan, holding on for dear life, but raising his hand above him. There was a dark wind blowing from him and blanketing the attacking force of Rexunii warriors. Turak looked forward in amazement as he saw the air before him shimmer as though distorted. What in all the great spirits names is he doing? he thought. Then he noticed something very odd to his left. About three hundred feet away, there was an exact replica of his attacking force; he even saw himself at the fore. What…? What is that?

Then as the realization set in, he was filled with almost overwhelming confidence. He was not sure how, but Robert had managed to create a mirage of some kind, a false image of their warriors, several hundred feet to their left.

He looked forward again at the enemy, a grin now hidden behind his horned mask, and saw the warriors atop the walls of the village begin to assemble to repel this seemingly small and overly exposed force. Then the air began to scream as bolts of lightning and balls of fire shot from the wall and straight into the projections. They didn’t even shimmer as rocks and Dunamis shot through them. They looked so very real to Turak, and the thought of how they were created sent a chill down his spine.

The wall closed in, and he turned to signal several warriors behind him. They were Dae-Voh and raised their hands in unison. The ground began to shake around them, and a massive ramp broke from the soil below. It shot out in front of them and slammed against the wall. The defending Dae reeled back in horror at the sudden appearance of an identical attacking force charging up the ramp and jumping into their midst.

Turak bellowed a war-cry as he leaped from his Cro’kan, stabbing his two swords into the chest of one of the defending warriors. The man didn’t even have time to scream before falling to the ground, blood gurgling from his mouth. Turak pressed on, summoning water from the spiritual energy around him to encircle his blades. He was atop the wall now and could see into the small village. There were civilians emerging from their stone dwellings and turning to run in terror.

“Press on!” he yelled, watching his comrades pour over the wall and engage the rogue Visgo warriors.

He turned just in time to see a massive boulder hurled at him. He slashed his swords at it, and arcs of water blasted towards it, cutting the mass of stone into several pieces. The force of his attack blew them away to fly harmlessly around him. Then he jumped off the wall into the village, closely followed by several of his warriors.

Almost immediately, dozens of Visgo warriors charged forward, raising their hands and unleashing a massive elemental barrage. Two of the Dae-Voh that accompanied Turak raised walls of stone from the ground, several layers of them, deflecting and stopping the deadly blasts.

Turak shouted again, raising his swords in the air, a hint of madness in his voice. The two Dae-Voh pushed, their hands outstretched, and their walls of stone exploded outward, launching thousands of razor-like shards toward the enemy.

Many screamed as their flesh was torn by the shards. Others used defensive measures of their own, raising walls of stone, creating barriers of wind or fire. It mattered very little to Turak. He knew these Dae were lowly warriors of the Visgo, ordered into their master’s political schemes against their will. For their loyalty to their lords and ladies, they would die today. They faced off against Rexunii Elite, powerful wielders of the Dunamis, and the strange sorcery of an ancient spirit.

They wore no colors, no cloaks of their house or clan—just the pale bone armor of Eleutheros. Still, when Turak surged forward whirling his incisors, using his Dunamis to extend massive blades of water, he felt no pity.

One of the surviving warriors leaped forward. With a large bone ax in hand, he swung the weapon toward Turak’s face. The Dae nimbly dodged to the side, using his Dunamis to enhance his speed. In a flash, there was a spray of water, and his attacker fell to the ground in two pieces. Blood and water flowed around Turak as he worked, his precision and skill a marvel to be seen by all around him. The Visgo warriors realized at that moment that they were being overwhelmed at the wall and turned to regroup, but they were not fast enough. The Rexunii forces moved like wildfire, killing all who ran with short and controlled bursts of Dunamis. They were trained to use precision instead of raw power, which was only for the foolish duels that the nobles seemed so fond of. Here, on the battlefield, they were trained to conserve their energy as much as possible. They never knew when they would get a full night’s sleep again, after all.

Turak saw a flash of lighting beyond the village, behind the retreating forces. It was Yadri’s signal that they had successfully flanked the enemy and halted their retreat. They could leave no survivors, lest they give crucial information about the Rexunii tactics and the Spirit-Sent’s strange power.

They moved past the dwellings and saw several hundred civilians halted and crowded in a large group. Women wailed, clutching their children, and the men shouted in terror at the Rexunii, who now blocked them in. Turak could see that there were about twenty or so warriors who hadn’t died in the attack and who were standing between the Rexunii and the civilians on both sides.

“Well, isn’t this unfortunate,” Richoro said, striding up behind Turak. Blue blood dripped from his cloak and armor as if he had bathed in the gore. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

Turak shook his head, feeling guilt and pity for the doomed civilians. “Do what you have to do,” he said.

~

Robert stumbled out of the village behind Turak and Richoro. Demessa had been his shield throughout the battle, cleaving her way through nearly a dozen attackers who tried to kill him. They knew who he was; the expressions they wore on their faces told him as much. The carnage of the battle brought him to empty his stomach several times already, but now he saw a large crowd of civilians. He sighed in relief that the end of the battle had finally come. It looks like they surrendered.

To his surprise, Richoro strode forward, a large bone mace in his hands, and began to attack some of the remaining defenders. The earth shook as Dunamis was exchanged between them, but the Visgo defenders were no match.

“Hey!” Robert yelled, running past Turak and toward the Rexunii warriors. “Stop!” he screamed again, but no-one seemed to hear him. “Stop!” A burst of black wind and smoke shot from him and blew several of the warriors off their feet. The canyon echoed with his booming voice.

All fighting ceased, and the eyes of the survivors and Rexunii warriors alike fell on Robert.

There was silence that seemed deafening to Robert, but his rage was liberated, and all he could see was the violent treatment that he had endured at the hands of these creatures.

“I said stop,” he said, his body trembling with anger. “They’re beaten. We aren’t slaughtering them.”

Richoro stood from the mud, his eyes wide and full of rage as well. He had been struck from behind by one of his own. “What did you say!?” he bellowed. “What in ge’enna do you think you’re doing?”

Turak came beside Robert, grabbing him by his shoulder. “Reku, what’s going on?”

“Why are you letting this asshole and our warriors kill everyone?” he asked. “We aren’t doing this, not while I’m here!”

“We can’t let them live, Reku. They’ve seen your power, and they’ve seen how we fight. We can’t take so many captives. This is the only way.” Turak removed his mask and looked into his eyes.

“No,” Robert said, walking toward Richoro. “Stand down.”

Richoro removed his helmet and sneered at Robert. “I don’t answer to you, demon.”

Robert’s heart raced as he stared at the blood-soaked Dae. He had been enjoying himself. He’s a monster.

“That’s Prince Reku to you!” Demessa said, standing beside him. “You dare speak to the King’s brother in such a way? To the Spirit-Sent!?”

Richoro squeezed the handle of his mace in frustration but stood down. “Well then, ‘my Prince,’” He said, with as much hatred as he could muster. “What would you have us do with a couple hundred civilians? Carry them on our backs?”

Turak strode forth, his face unreadable. “This was your idea to attack this village. To strike fear into the hearts of the Visgo. And you want us to take prisoners?”

Robert hesitated, unsure of himself. “Well, I…” he said.

“Calm… little human…” Dio’Mar’s voice said in his head. “I know what we… shall do… have them imprisoned… create cages of stone… guard them… I can help… but it will take time to teach you…”

“How long?” Robert asked, relief flooding him.

“That… is up to you…”

Robert looked at Turak. “Create cages from the stone. Get our Dae-Voh to do that. We will put a watch on them tonight.”

“And then?” Turak asked, his irritation starting to show.

“By then, I’ll have a solution,” Robert said, with much more uncertainty than he intended. “Trust me.”