25! Enjoy.

Chapter 25: Understanding

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“Oh, Gaea… Mother Nature, as the dryads call her. Personally, I don’t understand her sometimes. Her weird love of our master’s creations. So what if the children fell a few trees here and there? They’ll grow right back! Not forgetting the fact that the dryads can simply accelerate the growth of the flora using mana.

I don’t like how she acts wiser and older than us at times too. We were all created at the same time, but it’s as if she’s our mother sometimes! Perhaps being called Mother Nature is getting to her. Well, at least she’s got her looks going for her. Extremely beautiful, like all the dryads. Outweighs all the other stuff, I’d say."

- Shaitan, on Gaea

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Draygor woke with a start, his head still throbbing heavily in pain. He clutched his head and kneaded his temples in an attempt to soothe the headache, but the word “protect” wouldn’t leave his mind. He was laying on a huge four poster bed, and the crisp sheets rustled as he rolled around, snuffing his face into the pillow. Was his purpose in life simply to protect others, and was the pain a harsh reminder for him to stay on his path?

“Fine! I’ll protect everyone… and the Abyss will not sway my mind!” he growled to himself, and miraculously, the pain receded as the dastardly repetition faded from his consciousness. He groaned, exhausted from the ordeal.

“You’re awake,” Stefan said as he entered the room, with the other members of their party in tow.

Dhi’na moved to help Draygor as he sat himself up. She didn’t say anything, but glared at him accusatorily. Lukas moved to aid his grandson as well, mouthing discreetly to Draygor, “She figured it out.”

“Oh,” was all Draygor could think of as he avoided the gaze of his best friend. Dhi’na gripped his shoulder tightly, and Draygor knew that if he didn’t tell her everything, she’d probably hurt him. His storytelling session would have to come later, however, for there were more important matters at hand.

“What happened?” he asked, turning to Stefan, the only other person that had witnessed what went on in the cell.

“That’s what I want to know as well,” the Royal Advisor replied. “You and the prisoner stared at each other for a short moment, before you suddenly collapsed, and the prisoner started frothing at the mouth.”

“You merely fainted, and I brought you back here to rest, but the prisoner is dead. Total organ failure, just like the others,” Stefan said. “Did you play a part in his death? I may be no mage, but I know mind magicks are capable of destroying someone’s mind,” he added, a hint of accusation in his voice.

“No, it wasn’t me that killed the man,” Draygor retorted indignantly. “As you said, mind magicks can only destroy one’s mind, not their entire bodily functions,” he noted sarcastically.

“In that short time that the man and I exchanged stares, I met with the Abyss. He appeared in the form of a male Ely, and we talked quite amicably, which was a surprise. I’m sure the Abyss is much stronger than me, and he could have taken the chance to eliminate me as a threat, but he didn’t,” Draygor observed curiously before continuing with his recount of the meeting.

“The prisoner was a servant of the Abyss, and it was his master that caused his death. The same goes for all the other inexplicable deaths. The Abyss ‘willed’ it, and they died. The ones Kha’na and I encountered were his servants too, and their power came from the Abyss’ ‘will’.”

“What is this ‘will’ that you speak of, Draygor?” Lukas asked.

“I’m not entirely sure, but it seems to be an advanced version of the mind control aspect of mind magicks,” Draygor explained. “The Abyss mentioned that it was more of a unique ability, and not simple magicks, however. It seems what I can do is the same, albeit a weaker rendition of his, if he is to be believed.”

“I see… if the Abyss can do the same, wouldn’t he be able to take control of us if he ‘willed’ it?” the Queen observed worriedly.

“That… is a good question, your majesty. I’m not sure… but from what we’ve experienced so far, it doesn’t seem like he’s able to, for reasons unknown. If he could, the fight would already be over,” said Draygor.

“Still, we can never be too careful. Let us assume he has the ability too, and is simply holding back. At least, until we can find out how he is turning his servants to his side,” Stefan suggested, to everyone’s agreement.

“I’ll be warning the soldiers in our operation not to engage the Abyss’ servants directly. It’ll be too much of a risk if they, like the ones you encountered, have supernatural strength. I will also be bringing in capable instructors to train them. Lukas, I’ll let you deliver the message to your daughter that she will be transferred to her new post as instructor,” he continued, informing the group about his plans.

“No!” Lukas and Draygor disagreed vehemently, yelling their objection. “She’s just an ordinary girl; this is much too dangerous to involve her!” Lukas carried on, coming up with excuses to not involve any more of his family in the fight.

“Lhi’ra is far from ordinary, Lukas. Nor is she a young girl any longer. She is the best of the best, one of the finest in the first legion, and you know that very well. We cannot afford to hold back our hand against such a powerful opponent,” Stefan rebuked harshly. “Besides, I wasn’t asking. You don’t have to tell her the truth if you’d rather keep it a secret from her. All she has to know is that she’s training a new elite regiment. Here’s her letter of appointment,” he concluded, handing Lukas a rolled-up letter stamped with the royal seal.

Neither Lukas nor Draygor could find fault in his argument, for what he said was true. If they did not use all the resources they had, they were only handicapping themselves against a stronger foe, and their family would still come to harm eventually.

“Fine,” Lukas snatched it out of his hands. “We’re not telling her, understand? Not until she really has to know,” he said, turning to his grandson, who nodded in agreement.

“It’s getting late. Feel free to stay the night, I’ll get someone to lead you to the empty quarters,” the Queen offered.

“My apologies, your majesty, but we’re going to have to decline,” Lukas refused the Queen’s offer politely. “I have to pass this to my daughter, and I’ll have to come up with an excuse as to why Kha’na won’t be going home with us today, not to mention why these two,” he said, pointing to Draygor and Dhi’na, “are still out at this time of the night.”

“This is going to be a long night…” Lukas mumbled wearily with a shake of his head, dreading the grilling he’d undoubtedly be getting from his daughter and wife when they returned home.

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She was standing before a stone altar, with a small child upon the dais.

“Death!” she screamed.

And jerked awake in cold sweat, screaming in pain this time. The shriek quickly subsided as Kha’na clutched her newly mended side and realised that the pain was gone. Her scales were cracked, but the tear in the skin below had already been closed by the healers, though there was a very noticeable scar. The broken scales would mend themselves over time, but they would not regrow over the scarred skin.

Still, Kha’na felt comforted as she ran her hands over her new mark of battle. She now shared something in common with her master, and it felt like she’d grown closer to him in some strange way. While Draygor seemed trusting of her, she had tried to keep a certain distance between them, as her transgression against her master still haunted her. She knew her master was strong, and she dreaded the day she outgrew her usefulness. Draygor had forgiven her, or at least he said he had, but who would be so magnanimous to forgive the one that’d stabbed them in cold blood? Even she couldn’t forgive herself fully.

The soft sunlight of the morning streaming through huge windows pulled her gently from her thoughts as she began to take notice of her surroundings. The room was huge, and apparently no one had held back in its decoration. The walls were lined with gold trim, and the floor carpeted on every inch. She was on a humongous bed too, and she fingered the deluxe silk quilt as she wrapped it around herself.

“Is this still a dream?” Kha’na wondered aloud. This was comfort she’d never experienced in her whole life! The Cult’s beds were decent, but they felt like she had been sleeping on stone mattresses compared to this.

A small moan to her side brought her back to reality. There was someone lying next to her on the bed, buried under the covers. Surprised, Kha’na did the only logical thing she could think of – she kicked the unsuspecting person off the side of the bed.

“Ooof! By Mhi’ra’s grace, what was that for – oh… you’re awake!”

The soldier who had been her partner during their stake-out picked himself up off the ground, his scowl of annoyance at having been interrupted from his rest quickly turning into apologetic sheepishness. Kha’na glared daggers at him, and his head lowered even more to avoid her steely gaze.

“Sorry… I was just… I couldn’t help it, the bed just looked so comfortable compared to the small one I have at home, and it seemed like there was a lot of space to share…” the soldier stammered, trying to explain how he’d ended up next to her on the bed. He was dressed in casual attire, and Kha’na took note that he was skinnier than he’d seemed in full armour.

“Where are we? What happened?” she interrupted, tired of listening to him ramble on.

“Oh, right! We’re in the royal palace, in one of the empty quarters. The Queen gave permission for you to reside here for as long as you need to recuperate, and I have been aiding the healers – well, more like trying not to get in the way – in helping you recover,” he reported, glad that she’d changed the topic to something less embarrassing.

“You were in the house for quite a while. I managed to calm my nerves shortly after you entered to investigate, and I decided to keep watch outside, just in case something happened in the vicinity. I heard the sounds of battle when you started your fight with the attacker, and managed to bust down the door so that I could back you up, but by the time I’d reached you, the attacker had fled. You were already unconscious and seriously wounded, so I couldn’t search for signs as to where your assailant had fled to,” the soldier sputtered.

“I managed to carry you to the palace in time for the healers to treat you before you lost too much blood… I’m sorry, my weakness nearly cost you your life…” he finished solemnly, dropping to his knees with a thud to express his sincerity.

“…” Kha’na said nothing as she took in his report. She stared at him, as if contemplating what she wanted to do with him. The soldier found her incredibly intimidating, and he gulped noticeably under her gaze.

She got up from the bed, and he flinched slightly as she began walking toward him, but it quickly turned into a look of confusion as she continued past him to an armchair by the window. Her vest was draped on the side of the armchair, and she picked it up, examining the large hole at its side as well as the bloodstains on it. She placed it back onto the armchair, taking a seat and motioning for her partner to get up and take the seat opposite her.

“… Thank you for saving my life,” Kha’na started somewhat gratefully as he took the seat stiffly. “I don’t believe we introduced ourselves before we started the mission… what’s your name? Tell me more about yourself,” she asked.

“I’m Lawren,” the soldier said, suddenly embarrassed at having to talk about himself. “I’m an only child… you were right when you said I was pampered. My parents are rich merchants, and they gave me everything I ever wanted when I was younger, but as I grew older I realised I couldn’t live that way forever. I didn’t have any desire to succeed the family business either, so I decided to join the military. I got assigned to this operation after basic training since most of the more experienced units are off at the borders keeping the kobolds at bay,” Lawren continued, telling Kha’na more about his past.

They were silent for a moment, before Lawren took the initiative to speak up again. “Will you tell me your story? You did say that I knew nothing about you, and I would like to get to know you better,” he proposed hopefully.

Kha’na pondered his request for a short while. “I guess it’s only fair,” she thought, coming to a decision with a small shrug.

“I was an orphan,” Kha’na started softly. “My family lived in the countryside, close to where the Rift was opened, and our village was one the first few to be attacked. My parents and older brother were killed as I watched from where they’d hid me, but through some luck I managed to remain hidden till the Ely were long gone.”

“You asked why we worship Him. It’s because it was the Cult that saved the children like me. We were starving and on the brink of death. I remember trying to eat dirt once, when I was really hungry. Everyone thinks that the Cult is evil, but to me and many others, it is home. They gave us life, and we’re simply returning the favour. Besides, our society was formed by His hand, you know?”

“What do you mean?” Lawren asked, not understanding what she meant by her last statement. He was horrified when she mentioned having to eat dirt to survive. He’d never gone hungry in his life, let alone fathom how dirt tasted.

Kha’na picked up her vest again, reaching into the breast pocket to bring out a little book the size of her palm. She flicked it to a page, her eyes flitting over the words as she looked for something. “Read this bit,” she said, passing the book over to Lawren, having found what she wanted.

“The Fall of Shaitan,” Lawren read aloud. “From time immemorial, the gods guided us, and we listened to their teachings equally. Mhi’ra preached love and peace, while Shaitan preached about bringing violence and death to our enemies. Axeli was the Warrior, Gallan was the Smith, and Rhy’ni the Sower.”

“But, we were a violent, tribal race. While we worshipped the same gods, the many tribes believed themselves to be superior to the others. Thus, Shaitan held the most sway with his teachings. Axeli had taught us to fight, and to be honourable, but it was Shaitan that taught ruthlessness. For countless years there was vicious war between the tribes, but eventually the Gar’nash came to be united under one banner, under the tribe that subdued the others. The Hands of Shaitan, they were known, for their scales were of the deepest black, and they fought like they were possessed by Shaitan Himself.”

“The unification of the tribes meant that the need for ruthless war was no longer necessary. The people began to turn to Mhi’ra’s teachings. Every god’s words were still respected, but the times called for different needs. Still, what Shaitan and Mhi’ra preached were totally opposing ideologies. The followers of Mhi’ra formed the majority of the Gar’nashian government, and they shunned Shaitan’s followers.”

“They plotted against the Cult of Shaitan, and banned His worship. They taught their children that Shaitan was evil, and as the generations passed, Shaitan became known as the Devil. Even the domain of death was taken from Him – while we would turn to Him at our time of death in the past, we only look toward Mhi’ra now, in the hopes that She will deliver us from Shaitan’s ‘evil’ clutches.”

“Wow…” Lawren finished reading the excerpt, his eyes wide as he absorbed the information. “I didn’t know... why would we not be taught all this?” he mumbled in confusion.

“Politics,” Kha’na snorted. “If this was widely known, can you imagine what would have happened after the war with the Ely? The Queen would have been overthrown, and there would have been civil war,” she added.

“Even though we are taught the truth in the Cult, we have no desire to reveal it to the people, however. Fate was cruel to Shaitan, as it was to us, and we understand how unfair it was to Him. But Shaitan still loves the Gar’nash, albeit in different ways. He desired for us to be one united people. Sacrifices had to be made to achieve that, and we will not go against His will, because it will tear the country apart again,” Kha’na explained solemnly, taking back the little book from Lawren and tucking it back into her vest pocket.

“Honestly, if I was betrayed by those I loved the most like that, I would even go as far as consorting with the enemy for revenge,” Lawren remarked, understanding why Kha’na felt so strongly about his negative comments on Shaitan before.

“That is why you’re not a god,” Kha’na pointed out, and they both laughed aloud.

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The butler watched silently through the gap in the door as the two laughed aloud, frowning at the contents of their conversation.

“Her majesty is in cohorts with the Cult?” he whispered to himself. He pondered the newfound, nearly blasphemous information for a moment, before realising that the male had risen from his seat and was making his way to the door.

With a small huff, the butler turned and crept away, long out of sight before Lawren opened the door.