Silent Requiem (Tales of Ashkar Book 3) Read online

  Looking around, Guy noted that the entire beach was quiet. The faces of the men and women around him were stern; the solidarity of the forces of Arcadia focused all eyes at the Vical Ocean. Likewise, Guy had already drawn his bow, holding it firmly in his hand with the other ready to pull the string taut.

  It won’t be long now. The clear, bright sky and calm waters will be marred on this day.

  “Master Ranger Srdiv?” asked a high-pitched voice to his left.

  Guy turned his head to regard the source, looking for the young girl who was not where she should be. Instead, his gaze fell upon an armored soldier who was small in stature, wielding a sword and buckler that nearly dwarfed him. It was a boy, after all. The boy was young, and his voice had yet to mature like his body. A boy of that age didn’t belong here either, but as much as it pained Guy, he knew that they needed as many fighters as they could arm if they wished not to crumble under the force of an entire continent. “Yes, soldier?”

  Even under the heavy plate helm the young boy was wearing, Guy saw nervous eyes shift to the ground. “Why do we have to fight our fellow man?”

  The ranger took a deep breath and held his gaze at the boy. He took a few seconds to answer, and nervous eyes flickered back up to him. “What’s your name?”

  “Kelin,” whispered the boy softly. So softly that Guy’s ears strained to hear it.

  “Kelin,” Guy repeated. He set aside his bow and squatted next to the boy. “Kelin, have you ever fought with a sharp edge before?”

  Kelin shook his head, and his armor clinked as he did so. “No, sir. I’ve trained as hard as I could these past few weeks.”

  “Do you know what it is like to take another’s life?” asked Guy.

  Again the boy shook his head, and his eyes once more found solace in the earth below their feet. Guy sensed a rising trepidation from the boy, and rightfully so. Even Guy held an apprehension of what was to follow, but it was nothing like the moments before ending the life of another for the first time. The feeling of striking down another, and taking from them what was the dearest and most cherished song of all: life. It was like tainting the purity of Ashkar with the blood of what Everrel wished against. The blood of pain, regret, and remorselessness.

  Some men and women who witnessed war firsthand, while surviving with their lives, lost perhaps something even more unfortunate: the hope and idealism that only children seem to be attuned to, and what many adults lose before they even stop to question where all the years went. If life was the most cherished song of the Eversong, then a life of deep regret and hollowness was the most somber eulogy. After enduring two wars since its inception, Arcadia still held onto that hope. Now they were plunged into a third one, and Guy hoped that even if they were to win, they did not lose that hope.

  “What do you wish to be when you grow older?” Guy asked, veering the conversation to a topic that perhaps wasn’t so bleak in the hopes of removing some of the edge.

  It worked, for Kelin brightened at the question. His lips curled up in a faint smile, and his eyes glittered with that childish optimism. “I wish to be the head chef at the Eversong Palace! Many dreams I’ve had about preparing delicious and exotic meals. My mama and papa don’t have much… stale bread and cold stew are on my no-no list.”

  Guy couldn’t help but laugh. “You sound like you would be an excellent chef.” He patted Kelin’s armored pauldron, and the boy’s plate clinked. “Tell you what, after this is done I will personally see to it that you start your apprenticeship in my kitchens immediately.”

  Again Kelin brightened, even more so than he had before. His faint smile transformed into a toothy one, and Guy was overjoyed that he was able to displace the burden of war on the boy’s conscience—if even for a little while.

  Guy rose from his crouched stance, moved over to pick up his weapon, and once again fixed his attention to the east. The young soldier might not have known it, but the promise brought Guy more fulfillment than it probably did Kelin. The sun above now illuminated the world with more than just a few rays, and the horizon was now clearer.

  The clarity was just in time, for Guy detected several objects heading this way. He quickly reached down and picked up a small telescope, lifting it up to his face and peeking through it with one eye open and the other closed. With his vision now magnified, the larger and clearer picture of dozens of vessels wading through the waves several miles off the coast came into view.

  Others discovered the same, and the air was soon filled with clamor as shouts rang throughout the beach. Forces rallied, weapons were raised, and the ground shook as hundreds of bodies readied to attack.

  Behind him, Guy felt the galloping of several horses getting louder and louder until they stopped just behind him. A few riders dismounted and marched up to where he was standing, though he still held the telescope up and continued to survey the fleet.

  “How long until they reach attackable range?” asked the voice that belonged to Graeme. “How many sail this way?”

  “I would give them an hour or two,” answered Guy, he moved the telescope slightly from right-to-left in order to fully capture the wide collection of ships. “Looks like a few—wait a second.” He abruptly stopped to focus on one particular vessel—the one that was much closer than the others. It was also much larger than any other ship, and if Guy had any inclination as to who was on that ship, he would claim that Liberty was a madman. “The flagship is first in line to reach the shore.”

  “What?” spat a second voice. It sounded like Wu’s. “What kind of fool is this man?”

  Guy shrugged. “I’m not about to complain.” He put down the telescope and reached for his bow, then looked back to face the others. “All I know is that I’m going to end this war before it even begins.”

  Chapter 5

  Unknown day

  “So are you sure that my footsteps aren’t going to be an issue?” asked Quinn. He had continuously looked back at their path in paranoia. Whether that was because he seemed to have a penchant for having people who wanted to cause him harm constantly following him, he wasn’t sure. Either way, he had as of yet been able to find a solution for his footprints, and as they reached closer and closer to where Gilbel stated was where most demons mostly congregated, Quinn grew increasingly worried.

  “You’ll be fine,” dismissed Gilbel, though Quinn wasn’t so easily convinced. The demon’s footfalls seemed lighter than air, and there was no indication that his steps made any mark on the ground. “If they find you, it won’t be because of that. You’ll just be out of luck.”

  “That’s… that’s not reassuring,” Quinn stated.

  “Trust me for once, will you,” Gilbel remarked, then pointed up ahead. “See that?”

  Quinn looked up to where the demon was pointing, and discovered an eerie sight. The bleak sky was opened up like a hole, and dozens and dozens of blueish, white objects that looked like short strings were cascading down. From where he stood, Quinn did not know what happened after that.

  Gilbel waved his hand in the air, gesturing for Quinn to hurry. “Come on.” The demon quickened his pace dramatically, and the human resorted to jumping into a sprint to keep up. Several minutes passed, and they twisted and turned across various steep hills. Up above, Quinn saw that they were headed straight for the odd phenomenon in the sky, and with each step it became larger. Strangely enough, a sound that reminded him of howling or wailing grew louder and louder. The uneven terrain eventually gave way to a smoother, wider expanse—at least, as far as Hell was concerned. The entire realm seemed broken, as if it had been devastated by some calamity before.

  As Quinn realized what he was looking at, his face contorted into horror. The blueish, white strings from earlier were souls. He knew that by their familiar, humanoid shapes and the faces that all screamed in terror as they were flung into this precipice of fire and despair. What was even worse was that the sound that was assaulting his ears came from the shrieking mouths of all the souls. It was bone-chilli
ng, and the hairs on Quinn’s neck stood up. He looked over at Gilbel, who was nodding at Quinn.

  “This is The Wailing Cacophony,” the demon said simply. “This is where all the souls deemed unfit for Heaven are thrust down into this abyss that is Hell.”

  For the first time, Quinn was able to see what the souls were subjected to upon first arrival. Situated around the expanse were hundreds, if not thousands, of fluid-filled sacs strewn about. They were orange and clear, revealing the gruesome fate of the souls as they were ushered into the unsettling prisons.

  “Is it safe to be here?” asked Quinn.

  “Of course, as long as we’re not around when a demon newly hatches,” Gilbel explained, but Quinn waited expectantly for a different answer. Upon understanding, the demon nodded and mouthed the word ‘ah’. “I’m already one so it doesn’t matter, and you are still alive as a human.”

  “Hatches?” questioned Quinn with a hint of disgust. “That sounds… repulsive.”

  “Go ahead and take a look,” said the demon, pointing at one of the sacs nearer to them.

  Quinn slowly moved toward it, keeping mindful of all the souls swirling around him. They flew down from above, circling the area until being sucked into an empty cocoon like a vacuum. The wailing was incessant, though it faded slightly as Quinn averted his attention to the large sac before him. He peered inside, noting that the soul that inhabited it appeared to be in the middle of the gruesome transition; half of it retained its human form while the other half was fully demonic, like Gilbel. The transformation spread like a slow corruption, first starting at one point on the body and moving across until the spirit was fully consumed. It was like a disease that metastasized, and the unfortunate soul could only watch in utter horror as it was twisted and tainted.

  To Quinn’s surprise, the spirit’s eyes opened and stared at Quinn in horror. Its mouth opened, and he expected it to add to the wailing. “Please… help me. I'm not supposed to be here. It hurts so much. Please… end my suffering.”

  Quinn jumped back, turning his gaze back to Gilbel. The demon stood but a few feet behind him and appeared just as ready as he was to continue on their way. Quinn shook as another bone-chilling wave coursed through him.

  “Yeah, this place gives me goosebumps too,” agreed the demon. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Without another word, the two rushed further north and as far away from The Wailing Cacophony as they could. Quinn hoped that what lay ahead would not be as horrifying as what he had just witnessed, but he had the feeling that Hell truly was all that the stories described.

  _ _ _

  Hours passed, or maybe days. Quinn didn’t really know. There didn’t appear to be the cycle of day down here like there was in Ashkar. And even if there was, the sky was too dark to even tell. He had yet to see any star above, but he knew that there had to be one up there somewhere. The fires alone did not illuminate the land, but the sky seemed to blot out anything from getting out. As far as getting in was concerned, it was as easy as making someone angry at you.

  There was food, albeit scarcely. Somehow something grew on this blasted land, and that something was called agreol—a yellowish, brown plant that tasted bitter initially followed by an unshakable spiciness. Foraging for the sustenance often took them away from their path, but it wasn’t like they had much choice.

  “All the souls back there were turning into something like you,” said Quinn as he brought the flask to his lips and took a gulp. He was hot, hotter than he had ever felt. It had taken some time to get used to the profuse sweating from the scorching realm. “Does that mean that every soul becomes like that? How are my friends so different?”

  “Lion, Zorvinus, Titan, Aeuvi, Rimas,” listed Gilbel. “Do those names ring a bell?”

  Quinn thought for a moment. He hadn’t bothered to pay much attention to the lessons during his time at the School of Eight, but he did recall a familiarity with some of those names when it came to history. The Arcadian calendar was marked numerically by year followed by the Age of Lion, but he never really knew why. “Lion is the name that we use to mark our calendars with. I think I heard somewhere that that name switched every two-hundred-and-fifty-years to another one.”

  “Right,” affirmed Gilbel. “Now, why does it switch?”

  “I have no idea,” Quinn admitted with a shrug.

  “There is a place here called the Prison of Luyce,” the demon explained. “In it are housed four of those entities who I just named. The fifth one is free to roam Hell in order to not only maintain order across all lesser demons but also ensure that souls are properly ferried into eternal damnation.”

  “Did you just say order?” remarked Quinn.

  Gilbel gave him an incredulous look. “There is an order to Hell. You humans think that it’s all just chaos and fire—I mean, there is a lot of fire. But, there is a hierarchy as well. Those five are the Lords of Hell, and without them this realm would be in a constant flux of complete disorder.”

  Quinn nodded thoughtfully, processing the demon’s words. They continued forward across the fiery land, and he started to notice slight cracks and fissures along the ground that revealed a black substance under the layers that bubbled. It was a stark contrast to the pools of fire that had dotted the land, and he wondered what it could be if not lava. His gaze lingered on the sludge across the ground for a little while, but he shifted them over to the demon after feeling an urge to bathe himself in the foreign liquid. It was as if the black substance pulled him into its depths with an unseen force.

  “Are you okay?” asked the demon, noting Quinn’s erratic behavior.

  “I’m fine,” the human replied. “So, what were you saying?”

  “Every two-hundred-and-fifty-years, the Lord of Hell currently presiding over the realm switches with the next,” explained Gilbel. “Currently, it is Lion who is free from his bondage” The demon pointed to his own body. “Like him, my body is dark and shadowy. I am lionai.”

  “Then the others are demons born in the likeness of the other Lords?” asked Quinn.

  “Precisely,” Gilbel answered. “Aeuviai are the spawn of Aeuvi, the ones who resemble skeletons, or titanai, are of Titan’s cohort, zorvinai are furry and monstrous, like Zorvinus, and finally there are the rimasai, specters akin to Rimas.”

  Quinn nodded absentmindedly, his attention shifted instead to the cracks in the earth that oozed the black liquid. The farther that they traveled, the more numerous and larger the fissures were. Up ahead, he could see the blasted grounds giving way to deep chasms and gorges that likewise were filled with the substance. It was as if there was a deep wound in the land, revealing the blackened blood of Hell.

  “This is Vaikar’s Heartrend,” stated the demon, undoubtedly reading Quinn’s expression with ease. “Whatever you do, don’t fall in.”

  Quinn ripped his gaze away from the mesmerizing depths and looked at Gilbel. The words had been uttered with dire warning, yet he couldn’t help but be entranced by the black abyss. It was an uncomfortable feeling. In his mind his first reaction was, of course, not to get anywhere near anything like a deep pool of bubbling black stuff. And yet, the more that he gave it his attention the more it seemed to call for him.

  “Once we get past this we’ll happen upon the areas that most demons occupy,” explained the demon. “We’ll have to move with much more care—” Gilbel stopped abruptly, his eyes growing wide with shock. He jerked his head in Quinn’s direction and shooed him away. “Hide, now! Behind that rock!”

  Quinn snapped his head left-to-right, frantically searching for his cover. He found the rock that Gilbel was talking about. It was about a dozen feet to his right, next to a hill that overlooked the largest gorge yet. Scrambling, the human darted after it and nearly dove for its protection.

  He knew not what he was hiding from, but Gilbel’s reaction was so sudden and adamant that Quinn could only guess at what could cause a demon such alarm. His heart raced. Quinn swallowed hard, but he remain
ed as still as he could. He willed himself to calm down, or else he would not be able to divert his attention to what was happening with Gilbel.

  Quinn sat with his back propped up against the stone, his hands at his side and legs sprawled outward. In front of him was that same gorge. On the other side, as well as to his left and right, were several other hills overlooking the depths. It reminded him of a ribcage, and past it was the bleeding void where a heart should have been. Instead, there was nothing but black ooze.

  Once his ragged breaths diminished into slower, rhythmic ones and his heart returned to a more stable beat, Quinn focused his attention to the other side of the rock where Gilbel was standing. Several voices penetrated his ears. Some were deep and guttural, others were hoarse. Interspersed was Gilbel’s, and the rising tide of arguing voices echoed that of the wailing souls from earlier.

  Quinn’s eyes darted to the ground, realizing that his tracks hadn’t magically stopped appearing across the ground. They started at his feet, wrapping around the large stone, and heading off toward Gilbel’s position. They led straight to Quinn, and once again he found himself conceding to fear. Slowly, he crawled over to the edge of the stone and peeked his head out just far enough to watch the unfolding argument.

  Gilbel made his best attempt to appear nonchalant, but he wasn’t doing such a swell job. He was surrounded by three other demons. One of them, the largest of the three newcomers, appeared to be the one in charge. He had the deep voice, his stature was imposing, and he was the one saying the most words. The second one was lankier with the hoarse voice. The third one didn’t say much, and stood back a bit. They all appeared like Gilbel did, with shadowy flesh and dark faces.