Blood of Crysin

By J.L. Davis

The battle for Irrillania intensifies as the plans of the Great Thoughts and the jealous thoughts continue to unfold, with the Day of Darkness fast approaching.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.L. Davis
• Release date: Jun 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224796755

J.L. Davis

J.L. Davis currently resides in Maui Hawaii with his wife, Michelle. His hobbies include performing on stage, disc golf, and surfing.

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BLOOD OF CRYSIN

(Book III of the Irrillania Chronicles)

by

J.L. Davis

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2024 © J.L. Davis. Smashwords Edition. All rights reserved.

Irrillania Collection.

Cover design by J.L. Davis.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

PROLOGUE

The Unwaking Dream

Brendeen watched the boy sleep.

She had only sat in his bedchamber for an hour or so, in the world of the living, but that had been long enough for him to nearly shift three times already. It was clear that he wanted to shift. She needed him to shift. There were two attentive living guards posted right outside his door, and if she spoke to him in the world of the living it was certain to alert them and cause a fuss. It was important that she speak to the boy, and she wanted to speak to him in private. She could help him shift, but there was a chance it might damage him–that was something her mother might do on an ‘off’ day. Shifting back and forth between the two worlds was her expertise, and she did not know of many others who could manage it naturally without extensive preparation and focus. There was some evidence that the boy might be one, but it remained to be seen.

Absently, she played with her knife, spinning it up and catching it by the blade between different fingers. Then she found targets around the room to throw it at before recalling it back to her waiting hand. A lion’s paw on a tapestry, a fat sausage waiting on a breakfast tray that had recently appeared, the eye of a dragon carved on the bedpost. She knew the knife would not damage the targets–not in its current state anyway. This was growing tiresome. The boy shimmered for a moment and her hopes rose, then he went all dull again.

Brendeen sighed.

She had waited too long already. Hyrmiota, the wing-leader of the Alfarian Sky Academy, would notice her absence soon, and the woman was always so mistrusting of her little disappearances. As if she had not devoted her life to the protection of the Alfar! It was not she who had given the people’s existence away to the enemy. That had been the fault of a human, naturally. Technically, she was still human herself, she supposed. Or was she? She would have to visit the boy another time.

Just as she began to zip away back to the North, a voice stopped her.

Who are you? the boy asked. Why are you in my dream?

Dream? She laughed as soon as she saw him, before realizing he might find it rude and containing herself.

The boy’s spirit was floating up near the ceiling while his body still lay in the bed where any wondering entity could possess it. On the farm she had grown up on–so, so long ago now–she had always laughed when she saw a baby lamb trying awkwardly to stand for the first time. The boy reminded her of one of them. She didn’t mean it to be rude, the determined-but-utterly-confused look on his face was just so… cute!

This is not a dream, young man, she informed him. It is the unwaking dream–well, for most anyway. You are different, I think, like me. We are spirit travelers, or soul travelers, depending on which spirit warrior you ask–or soul warrior. Just pick one if you’re confused.

But you’re just a little girl.

Oh, that again, she thought in irritation.

"I am not a little girl. I stopped growing at fourteen when my mother, well, my second mother- Wait. No! I am here to ask you questions, not the other way around. Moon’s blood, could you, um, could you settle back into your body and bring it with you this time? You’re making me nervous. It is unwise letting it lie there like that, you know."

Oh, said the helpless boy. How do I do that?

You just, do it. Patience had never been her forte. Float down there, close your eyes, then open them, um, wider this time.

The boy still looked baffled, but he eventually managed to do as instructed. The two versions of him merged into one, and after a moment his eyes shot open. He looked around wildly and immediately started to hyperventilate.

It’s okay! You’re okay! Stop breathing!

His eyes narrowed at the command, but after a few more ragged, useless breaths, he did. It seemed to calm him down a little. He was still looking around defensively though as if expecting a spirit-demon to suddenly pop through the walls. It was a good instinct to have, she supposed. They could not, of course; not as protected as this place was.

Better?

The boy nodded.

Why do you have a knife? he asked.

What knife? She quickly made the knife vanish.

Blood of the bleeding moon, she thought. I must be more careful.

Why are you traveling with father? she said aloud.

What?

Spurion. The wizard! Why are you traveling with him?

Um, he, um…

It’s alright, she coaxed. I’ll help you shift back just as soon as you answer my questions.

Shift?

Go back to sleep, she clarified, if that’s what you want to call it. I need to know why you travel with the wizard Spurion?

He is helping me. I could not have retaken the kingdom without him.

"So, he trusts you?"

The boy nodded.

I think so. We both want the kingdom to be strong when we march to the Split. We both fight the jealous ones.

Okay then. That is a relief. I need you to tell him something for me, can you do that?

The boy nodded dumbly.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

"Tell him Brendeen says that they have been discovered. Tell him I don’t know when, but that I am sure it is true, and I have proof. So long as you say my name, he will know what it means. Can you do that?"

Again, he nodded.

Good enough. Now, back to sleep. It has grown very dangerous on this side, and you may be my only means to communicate with the old blowhard. No, I didn’t say that. You didn’t hear that. Don’t you dare- Moons blood, I have to go. This place isn’t the easiest to sneak in and out of, and it’s a long zip north. You will remember, won’t you?

A look of total confusion. She sighed.

Lie back and close your eyes, she told him.

She suppressed his glow with a little of her own, then zipped away, careful to avoid any of the spirit warriors protecting the castle. They likely would have welcomed her quickly enough, but it was always uncomfortable dealing with humans; or even those who used to be humans. They were always so demanding–herself excluded if she still counted as human.

Her message had been delivered, and she was eager to get back to the Alfar before she was missed.

*****

Jayden shot bolted upright, threw back the covers, and felt himself all over.

It had been so real. It was real. As real as when he had met Gregor Rionthorne and learned about the impending invasion of the Drokka’lfar. As real as when he had left Druania. The other side existed, and he had been there three times now. The unwaking dream, the girl had called it. This time, he had been given a message to deliver. It was so much to take in, and he had a busy day tomorrow. He didn’t think he would be able to go back to sleep, but he was wrong. His exhaustion was too great to keep him from drifting back into unconsciousness almost immediately.

He just had to remember to tell somebody… something.

CHAPTER ONE

The Bloodfire Staff

A soldier with a permanent scowl on his face opened one of the cage doors, motioned a captive to come forward, then grabbed the man and hauled him out forcefully when he was slow to obey.

The general had made it clear that the trials were to take place in a single day, and he was not about to argue with the general. How it would be possible he had no idea, nor did he care, that part was not his problem. His orders were to bring them swiftly before the king one at a time as fast as he could, and by the Thoughts that’s what he was going to do. And if he was none too gentle, well, whatever the murderous mercenaries got was less than they deserved for their crimes, as far as he was concerned. People he cared about had died because of them.

All around the square, his fellow soldiers were doing the same, but he arrived with his man first. A line swiftly formed behind him. He stood proudly, waiting for the king to motion him forward with his captive.

*****

King Jayden Rionthorne sat on the makeshift throne that had been erected in Convergence Square so he could ‘judge’ the prisoners. Although, it didn’t seem like he was going to be ‘judging’ anything. If what Spurion had said was true, the deceivingly plain wooden staff he held upright in his right hand was going to be doing that for him. All it had taken was a drop of his own blood, which the staff had seemed to absorb greedily, combined with the spoken words of the oath he would require. After that, the fate of prisoners had been sealed.

Spurion had retrieved the Bloodfire Staff from where he had suspected it lay, somewhere in the chamber with Thera. About six feet high, carved from white birch, it was warm to the touch and felt as heavy as if were made of iron. Jayden was glad he only had to hold it upright, because he knew there was no way he could lift the thing all day.

More magic, he thought. Magic that was right under my feet as I grew up oblivious. How much more is there? How deep do the secrets go? Will it all aid me, or will it swallow me up and turn me into something I don’t even know. I wonder…

A clearing of the throat brought him out of his reverie.

Your Majesty? said Spurion, who was seated in a chair to his right.

Ekinroy and Gustabus were there as well, the general to the right of the wizard and the governor to his immediate left. Quandis had declined an invitation to join them–claiming his head ached–Methius had gone to the university to assist his father, and he didn’t know where Cedra was. He could have sent for the redheaded woman, he supposed, but he assumed she would have been there had she wanted to be.

Even with the staff, it will be nightfall before we get through them all, the wizard was saying. I don’t pretend to know how immediate the threat is to the Droka’alfar, but you did say you wanted to leave at first light tomorrow.

I did. I do. Very well, let’s see how this works. He motioned the scowling soldier forward, and the man prodded his reluctant prisoner before him.

On your knees before his majesty, said the soldier, accentuated with a not-so-subtle shove.

The man went to his before the throne.

Will you swear an oath of loyalty to me, and to the Kingdom of Crysin? Jayden asked him.

The man looked about nervously, licking his lips, then nodded his head emphatically.

I will, he said. If you spare my life, then so help me I will, Your Majesty.

Grip the staff.

The man reached out hesitantly, placing a trembling hand around the smooth wood.

Do you swear on your life to harm no citizen of Crysin, so long as you shall live?

I-I do, said the man. The staff flared, a dark red glow pulsing back and forth once through its entire length.

Do you swear to do your part in the rebuilding of our cities?

I do, he replied a little more confidently this time. The staff flared again, repeating the pulse.

And do you swear to fight with us against the minions of the jealous ones on the Day of Darkness and beyond without betraying us?

I do, said the man again. Once more the staff flared, pulsating, and again went dark.

So far, so good, thought Jayden.

Release the staff and rise a citizen of Crysin.

The man let out a long sigh of relief. A woman approached to lead the new vassal to his lodgings and explain what would be expected of him. The man smiled appreciatively as he left the square, bobbing his head until he was completely out of sight.

Next, said Spurion brusquely.

The next prisoner was brought forward.

Will you swear an oath of loyalty to me, and to the Kingdom of Crysin? Jayden asked him.

The man spit. Never.

Very well.

He nodded and the man was taken away to the gallows that had been erected nearby. There was room enough for eight, and those taken there would hang once all eight positions had been filled.

Next.

A skinny, rat-faced fellow with a subservient smile was brought forth.

Will you swear an oath of loyalty to me, and to the Kingdom of Crysin?

Oh aye, Your Majesty, most gladly I will, replied the man.

Grip the staff.

Still smiling, the man complied.

Do you swear on your life to harm no citizen of Crysin, so long as you shall live?

I most certainly do.

The staff flared and pulsed a deep red.

Suddenly, the man’s eyes went wide. He screamed in pure terror as the staff flared brightly once, then his screams stopped abruptly, and he disintegrated into ash. His remains lingered in place for a moment, as though held by some force in the shape of a terror-stricken man, before a sudden and mysterious gust of wind took and scattered his remains to the outermost parts of the square. There were coughs from soldiers and prisoners alike who could not completely avoid the ash.

Nowweknowwhatitdoes.

Next.

It was after nightfall before the last of the prisoners had been dealt with and Jayden was able to retreat to his bedchamber.

Though Spurion had told him something of what to expect, it had still come as a shock. He could see the first mercenary who had lied clearly, his smile, his eyes, his bony hand as he reached to grab hold of the staff; could see the ash hang in place for a moment before being whisked away like a pile of rubbish pushed by a broom. But it had not been rubbish, it had been a human being. He could never forget that. Already most of the faces were beginning to blur together and fade from his conscious memory, but that first man’s face did not. He would not let it.

And how many had there been after that? A few hundred, at least. A few hundred screams, a few hundred human-shaped sculptures in ash, a few hundred lives burned away by magic. The magic of his ancestors. His magic. The men hanged at the gallows had been a terrible sight, but nothing like those who had attempted to lie to the Bloodfire Staff. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to retch up the bits of ash he had inhaled. He wanted to destroy that awful staff so the horrible power it held could never be called upon again.

It was difficult to imagine his father using the staff. Eurion would have thought it cruel and impersonal, and he would have been right. In his first full day as king, he had taken more human lives than his father ever had. Even at the Split they had been demons the king had slain, not men. Eurion had reigned during a time of peace though, and he most certainly did not. And in the morning, he was off to make more war.

Hopefully, there would be no human in the forces that Grizzland was calling forth to attack Druania. But if there were, he knew that he would do what he must to protect those who had not started this aggression. He tried to justify the slaughter by thinking of those who had been taken from him by Grizzland’s treachery. His parents. Belvin. Madame Lowry. Captain Churtez. The little girl in Druania. So many more. And there would be more still, he knew.

It was with dark thoughts and a heavy heart that he eventually drifted into a fitful trance that imitated sleep.

CHAPTER TWO

Powerless

Shortly after dawn, the party meant to bring warning and aid to Druania was mostly assembled in one of the private training yards.

Captain Avaree of the Royal Guard was there to greet Jayden with a curt nod as soon as he had set foot outside his bedchamber. The man had clearly not forgiven him for being ordered to stay back with the refugees during the siege, even though his efforts had probably saved Jayden’s life and helped turn the tide of the battle in the end. Another royal guard, Elleth, was with him. Both proudly wore an eastern throwing axe on their right side, along with their standard issued weaponry, identifying them as Morans–or Easterners, at least. If Ekinroy had let them keep their axes, it was because they knew how to use them.

The three of them arrived to see Ekinroy and an older man, nearly the size of the general if not so broad, briefing a group of twenty hardened-looking soldiers who stood a little straighter at their king’s approach. When the older man turned to acknowledge him, he was pleasantly surprised to see that it was one of his father’s oldest friends, Hass Bumberdill.

The last time he had seen Hass, they had tried to drain the taps at the Crown Jewels, woke up half of the trade district with their crooning, and gotten into a friendly fist fight. The man who looked back at him now was more somber.

Hass!

Your Majesty, replied the ex-knight with a respectful bow.

Jayden’s excitement at seeing the ex-knight was tempered when he realized all the man must have been through.

Your family?

Hass’s eyes went far away.

Ameenia made it, and my oldest boy, Navon. One of the little ones, Millisandre survived, but she won’t talk yet. We found Fioshi, burned what was left of her so she could be with the Thoughts. The other children… Who knows. Maybe they’ll turn up. Lots of good folk keeping an eye out for them. The community is already coming together, rebuilding. Myself though, fighting is the only thing I’ve ever been all that good at, and right now I need something to sink my sword into.

He nodded. There was likely to be plenty of that to go around soon enough.

I’m happy to have you with us, was all he said.

Then he thanked the other soldiers for their service to Crysin and told them what he could about their mission, leaving out certain details about the Drokka’lfar they would be privy to soon enough. Ekinroy had already prepared them for the worst, he was sure, but they seemed to appreciate hearing from him directly. It was on his orders that they would all be risking their lives, after all.

Spurion stood nearby, smoking his pipe and fidgeting in his pockets for some tidbit or other. Zadosh and Maggie waited next to him, already saddled, stomping at the cobblestones in their eagerness to be off.

Tevious joined them shortly, complaining that he was only one man while Gustabus had him doing the work of ten. The real reason he was perturbed, Jayden was sure, was that he would not get to battle beside them in Druania. He was only to accompany them to Celes, where he would then depart their company to relay news and detailed instructions to Captain Eliason Danton, who was currently in charge of the city.

If you would tell me where you going, I could meet you afterward, he suggested. I’m sure the Governor would not mind if I-

No. The emphasis Ekinroy put on the word left no room for argument.

Then came Quandis, with Cedra and Methius in tow.

I’m always happy to see the three of you, of course, Jayden began, but there’s no reason-

I thought we went over this boy, Quandis grumbled.

He is a king now, you know, Spurion commented mildly.

I thought we went over this, boy-king. We need to be with you. I don’t know how I know what I know, I just know that I know it. It’s that blasted book.

I would have suggested that Cedra and Methius come anyway, Your Majesty, Ekinroy added. She knows the forest, and I’ve never seen a better shot with a longbow. As for Methius, the Thoughts know you could use a mender with you at all times.

The comment elicited a spattering of chuckles from the soldiers and a good-natured snort of agreement from Methius. It was common knowledge that he had been wounded by the possessed troll king, Durgmont, and by a mysterious would-be assassin after that, and had to be carried to Eriden on a glorified litter. Methius, of course, could likely have pointed out a few dozen times he had needed healing just off the top of his head.

Laughter, thought Jayden. Good to know it still exists. Ithas been hard to come by these past many months.

Soon everyone was mounted up and they were on their way. There was certainly no mirth as they passed through Eriden on their way to the East Gate. The devastation of war was evident everywhere they looked, and the memory of the executions that had taken place in the square the previous day hung over everyone like a cloud. There were citizens moving about, some appearing lost, others with a purpose. It was a shadow of what Eriden had been, but it was a start.

Two of the former mercenaries who had sworn oaths and survived the judgment of the Bloodfire Staff were among the soldiers, a squarely built man named Regus and a wiry fellow by the name of Ternick. The occasional suspicious glance was cast in their direction, but Ekinroy had made it known that they were to be treated no differently than any other soldier. That was easier said than done, of course. The two kept their heads down and said nothing as they passed through the square, alone with their thoughts.

They kept the horses at a slow trot as they passed through the gates, out onto the wide main road, and turned south. The morning air was crisp and cold, but the weather favored them with a break in the rain. In a few spots the clouds even parted enough to reveal the twinkle of a faint star in the still-lightening sky.

Around midmorning, they reached Celes and Tevious departed on his mission. A new mayor would have to be appointed soon if the incumbent, Havlin Clark, could not be found somewhere among the refugees. As badly as Jayden wanted to visit the city and offer words of hope to the people there, he knew that every moment could be vital to the survival of the Drokka’lfar. So, on they rode, bypassing the massive city that had so recently been controlled by Nordin Murk and his mercenaries.

Ekinroy called a halt in the early afternoon, to rest the horses and enjoy the semblance of an actual meal by the roadside. Though already saddle-sore, Jayden forced himself to appear energetic for the benefit of the soldiers. Methius joined him as he ate, looking surprisingly fresh.

My ass is sore, he admitted. You’ve been riding as long as I have. How are you so spry?

Being a mender does have its privileges, Methius replied mysteriously.

I don’t suppose you could do something for the chafing…?

I could, his friend admitted, but we are taught to conserve our energy for more serious maladies than a little abrasion on the royal buttocks.

Jayden rolled his eyes. Apparently Methius was still a stickler for rules.

Wait a minute, he said. You used your ability on yourself, but you can’t use it on another?

I-um-well, the other stammered. We are also taught that one must take care of oneself before one may care for another.

How convenient. These ‘rules’ you’ve learned at the university sound an awful lot like excuses to me.

Mending is a sacred-

Oh, spare me, he said with a grin. I’m just glad you’re here.

As am I, Methius agreed. He straightened his round-rimmed spectacles. It will be good to get away from there for a little while, I must admit. It no longer feels like the home it once did.

This is for you, said a new voice.

Jayden turned to see Cedra standing behind him, holding forth a short length of some thick, green plant leaf with serrated yellow edges. He took it cautiously. A clear gel oozed out of the cut end.

What is it?

Ali’imana. She smiled at his look of confusion. It doesn’t grow here. Spurion had it in those never-ending pockets of his. He asked me to bring it to you to help with the chafing, he said. Just spread the gooey part on any swelling or abrasion. Use as much as you want, it can’t hurt.

He shot his best withering gaze across the little clearing to where the wizard sat smugly popping bits of some strange confection into his mouth. They were multi-colored with something in the middle that looked like a bug. The old conjurer was a little too pointedly avoiding looking in his direction.

Thank you, he told her wryly. Not bothering to raise his voice, he added And thank you for asking her to deliver it, since I know you can hear me over there.

The other two looked in Spurion’s direction with curious frowns, and he was rewarded by seeing the wizard choke on a piece of his fancy candy before trying to play it off as a light coughing fit. Of all the people the man could have sent to deliver a remedy for his chaffing, he had deliberately chosen the one that would cause the most embarrassment. If ‘Spurion the Childish’ was not already one of the ancient mage’s titles, it should have been.

Can I have what you don’t use? Methius asked. "Ali’imana is expensive to