Shadows of Redact Read online

  Shadows of Redact

  Legends of Gilia, Volume 11

  RG Long

  Published by Retrovert Books, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  SHADOWS OF REDACT

  First edition. April 26, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 RG Long.

  Written by RG Long.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Maps and More

  1: The Few Who Favored

  2: The Lone Redeemer

  3: The Forgotten

  4: Mechanics

  5: Breakfast

  6: New Fire

  7: Memories

  8: Magic

  9: Friends or Enemies

  10: The Commander of the City

  11: Father and Son

  12: The School of Magic

  13: Deep Seated

  14: The First Levels

  15: The Winds of Redact

  16: Water

  17: No Escape from the Suns

  18: Healed

  19: One More

  20: Chapter

  21: Sneaking in the Dark

  22: Unhelpful

  23: Nothing

  24: Chapter

  25: In Common

  26: An Audience

  27: Definitions

  28: Threats

  29: What Is Known

  30: To the Middle

  31: Strangers

  32: Peace

  33: Siblings

  34: The Rouse

  35: Chapter

  36: Chapter

  37: For Sport

  38: Visions

  39: Chapter

  40: Hideout

  41: Chapter

  42: For the Sake of Peace

  43: Secrets and Shadows

  44: Doubts

  45: The Beginning

  46: Burn

  47: Fall

  48: Governor

  49: Parlay

  50: War

  51: Not to Home

  Author’s Note

  The Story Continues

  Maps and More

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  1: The Few Who Favored

  Inside the dwarven caves of Tayrec, King Fra mourned the loss of his brother along with thousands of other hard-working dwarves who had given their lives in the fight against the elves who had invaded Tarnish.

  What other exclamation could there be for the scene they had come upon when they had discovered the explosion in their mines?

  Elven bodies were strewn all over the charred remains of the dwarves, who had died with their picks and tools in hand. It was such an unprovoked attack that it made the King’s boil just thinking about such a terrible fate to fall on his brethren.

  So much so that he found himself unable to properly mourn their deaths. He rose from his seat and stalked from the ancient hall of mourning, where the bones of his brother had been brought and burned in honor.

  Several of his advisers followed him out of the hall and into the inner chambers of the king. Here was set before them a magnificent table, one fit for the royalty of a dwarven monarch. It was customary for the king to spend some time fasting for the loss of his brother, or any royal family member. However, King Fra had declared a time of preparation for war to commence immediately.

  No general nor his soldiers would go to war on an empty stomach.

  He grabbed a leg of meat and began to tear into it with gusto.

  “My Lord,” one of his advisers questioned him. “Do you really think it is wise to go to war over this incident? Some of our chief engineers tell us that for the bodies of the dwarves alone to be burned and nothing else is nearly...”

  “I will not be told when or how to avenge the death of my brother,” the king replied shortly.

  He had already been told about how the elves to the east could not be responsible because of how none had been seen traveling through Taystone for the last hundred years. They told him that such an army of elves as they saw dead in the mines of Tarnish would surely have been detected by the scouts of the doors.

  The king did not care.

  His brother had been dear to him. That was why he had given him free reign over the mines in the first place. He had never feared an uprising or coup from his younger sibling. In the hundred years his brother had worked the mines of Tarnish, they had been more fruitful than the millennia before. His brother was a faithful servant.

  The king would miss him.

  But he was glad for his sacrifice.

  It was time to go to war. His dwarves that he commanded had become fat and lazy from the spoils of the mines. They hardly worked and cared nothing for the mountains to the east. They had once all belonged to the dwarves. And the elves had been content to stay locked away in their towers and the men of Redact had been nothing but a minor nuisance.

  There was once a time when the dwarves of Redact had been the rulers of the continent.

  Now the men grew in number, while the dwarves saw their own race declining. The king would not stand for his race to be undone by the workings of others. He would reclaim ancient territories. He would see his mountain holds taken back from those who were ignorant of the bounty they held. Though they had cities and castles and fortresses nearby each of the dwarven holds of ancient times, he would reclaim them.

  The king desired war.

  His people needed war.

  If the death of his brother was what it had taken to anger his fellow countrymen to finally see their need for battle, so be it.

  King Fra was finished with trying to squeeze out an existence out of two mines. He wanted extravagance. He took another bite of meat and looked up at the ancient mosaics of his forefathers. These were the dwarves of legend. Those who had gone into battle in Rimstone armor and commanded dwarven armies of thousands and tens of thousands. They had been the true power of Redact, not some Court or flying monstrosity. He swallowed and grabbed a goblet filled with his ale.

  The drink fueled his desires for war. There would be no more talks of treaties with the humans to the east. There could only be war now. They had no other alternative.

  The ancient song of the dwarves echoed in low tones throughout the halls of the dwarf king’s ancient throne. King Fra had lost more than family. He had lost a valuable resource in Tarnish. It was to be with spoils of that mine that he took his rightful place as ruler of more than two dwarven holds.

  The mine of tarnish had been desecrated beyond use for the next one hundred years. It was but a span for the dwarves, a moment of patience to endure. But the loss of the mines for the season as well as the desecration of their brethren had angered most of the dwarves past reason.

  After all, the king was not the only one to lose a brother or other family in the attack. Those who had felt the loss personally would fight with that much more vengeance, aiding the king’s desires. He nodded at this thought.

  The king did not care who they went to war with. The elves, the men, it did not matter. His people had lost much to both. And yet he knew that if he alone went to war, his own dwarves might fail him. And so, he steeled himself for the task he knew he must do.

  “In the past,” he said with meat still dripping from his mouth. “We have had favorable dealings with the Court of Three. Per
haps we may be those who are still favored by them. Prepare a delegation. I will meet with the High Judge in order to obtain an alliance of our two nations.”

  “My Lord,” the same general as before said with more anxiety and his voice to before. “We have not yet finished our treaty with Severn. It would be unwise to ask for the aid of the court if we...”

  “Be gone,” the king commanded with a wave of his hand.

  The general only hesitated a moment before bowing and leaving the room.

  No other dwarf spoke up after this dismissal. They cared too much for their coveted positions of influence and power.

  The dwarf king sat back in his chair. He heard the sound of morning continuing to drift through the halls of his home. It would soon be a sound of war.

  In their ancient tales, the dwarf kings of old used war to acquire riches and wealth. The dwarven kingdom of Taystone would no longer be dependent on the generosity of others.

  They would seek to find their own wealth.

  And they would be the ones who other nations would desire to be favored by.

  2: The Lone Redeemer

  A flock of birds flew up as the lone figure stood from her kneeling position. Laserie felt it only fitting to pay her respect to the elders she was defying at this temple that perhaps had once served as a meeting place for those wishing to enter the tower of LaGrove and a place to say farewell for those leaving.

  She didn’t know this for sure, however. The history books of the elves had left out the use of this place, or anything really that happened outside the tower. The lone sentinel stood behind her, tall and silent. She was sure she would be able to see it no matter where she went. The sister tower that she was heading towards was within her sight as well. As long as she could keep the two towers in her sight, she wouldn’t be lost and wouldn’t be afraid.

  That’s what she continued to tell herself.

  Slowly, Laserie made her way out of the temple. She had not been able to force herself to move quickly. Each step was a pain to her. She was leaving the only home she had ever known. The only safety she had ever felt. But within her was the desire to save her race. If the Rimstone they had continued to be infected and cursed, what hope would they have? Their towers thrived on the stones.

  If they were gone, all hope would be lost.

  It was with this knowledge that she took every painful step.

  “One foot and then another,” she said to herself, over and over again. “Until I get to the tower.”

  From the doors of the tower of LaGrove, she had purposed to go west and make for the other tower where they had sent another acolyte a few years ago. But she had never returned, and they had never sent anyone going out looking for her. Until now.

  Granted, Laserie wasn’t being sent. She was going on her own, without the blessing of the elders. Whether or not that meant her journey would be successful, she didn’t know. What she did understand, however, was that she was by herself. There would be no one to guide her. No one to help her if she fell into danger. It was only her.

  Her alone.

  The suns continued to rise as she made her way down the path that led from her home. Before her lay the forests of the valley. She had spent years looking at these forests, watching the birds fly among the trees and seeing the shadows of the clouds fall upon them. They had looked much less intimidating from the tower.

  Now that she was walking up to them, they seemed to nearly engulf the light of the suns completely. Especially as she walked nearer to them.

  “One foot and then another,” she whispered to herself as she stepped underneath the canopy of the trees. Laserie saw a path through the forest. Perhaps some animals had used this same track to make their way through the dense trees. She would follow it in order to quickly make her way through the vegetation and come out that much closer to the tower on the other side.

  She looked above the trees, making a mental note where the other tower of LaGrove stood. It was almost directly north of her position. But how she was to tell which way was north when she couldn’t see the suns was beyond her. Taking another step, both the tower and the suns disappeared from her view as the forest took her into its dark embrace.

  Everything began to change once she was in the forest. Noises, even to her attuned elf ears, became low and hard to pick up. It was as if her own footsteps died away on the path into the woods. Laserie caught herself looking over her shoulder more than every few steps. She couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that she was not alone in the forest. She was the only one she could see, however. Though the woods were surely the home to countless creatures, they all had fled at the presence of one elf front he tower of LaGrove.

  Laserie's cloak caught in a bramble as she made her way down an overgrown path that was pointing her deeper into the forests of her nation.

  Having spinner entire life in the tower, Laserie knew very little about nature or the forest or the creatures that would look there. By virtue of this, her imagination ran wild as the bramble work itself deeper into her cloak.

  She began to panic as she worked to free herself from the thorn, thinking that a giant beast would be attacking her at any moment. She almost. Swore that she heard something rushed by her as she pulled her cloak free and turned her run.

  Her heart pounding in her throat, Laserie sped as quickly as her feet would carry her through the forest path. With every step, the light became dimmer and the brambles reached even more for her.

  She skidded to a stop as she was certain that something up ahead of her was blocking her path

  Pulling a small jeweled knife from her belt, the only weapon she had ever seen inside the tower and subsequently stolen, she pointed it at the shadow ahead of her.

  “Who is there? She asked in a shaky voice. She cursed herself for talking. It betrayed how nervous she was.

  “I find it odd that one who trespasses on our forests would ask of its inhabitants who dwells there.”

  Laserie came up short. Something lived in the forest that could talk?

  “I mean you no harm,” she said.

  “Another unusual statement from one holding a knife."

  Laserie realized she was being irrational. Of course, something would live in the forest. The continent was teeming with life. And why would it not be intelligent enough to speak to her? If this was their forest, she was threatening them with a weapon inside their own home.

  She steadied her breathing enough to put the knife down and speak plainly.

  “I’m Laserie," she said. An acolyte of the tower of LaGrove. I have left my tower in search of another acolyte who came this way many years ago.”

  The figure step forward. At the same time as the shadow moved, several lights appeared around her. It wasn’t the harsh glow of fire, but instead the soft radiance of Rimstone.

  Several of the trees held lanterns that housed small pieces of the glowing rock. They gave off their light on the shadowy figure that stepped forward.

  Laserie stifle a gasp.

  “I am Acred, a Skrilx of the forest. I believe I know what has happened to your acolyte.”

  3: The Forgotten

  Early morning was rising over the horizon with the suns though the air was crisp and chilly. Spring was certainly a season that brought with it ever changing temperatures. Yesterday had been balmy and warm. At the end of the day however, cold winds began to blow in. The same winds had been what had awoken Ealrin from his sleep. Some window in the vaulted tower had flown open and the noise and sudden rush of cold air had roused him from his slumber.

  He had found it difficult to fall asleep here, even though he was told that this was his home. The chief engineer of Rerial had not lived in a palace or castle on the ground. Rerial was a city of towers that rose high into the sky and served as hubs for the magical airships that the nation prided itself on. Some of the towers were for military, others for the Speakers of the nation, and others for the royal family and their guards. This one, was the tower the airships were
built in and the one in which his family resided.

  His family.

  Ealrin wrapped himself more firmly in the coat he was wearing as he watched the suns slowly rise up over the horizon.

  Some smaller airships were already flying through the morning air. They flew from tower to tower, taking cargo from one magical tower to another or shuttling important people from their homes down below up to the places where they worked and conducted their business.

  The towers were the hub of trade, business, government, and trade.

  Rerial was a nation that traded all over the continent of Redact, save for the Court. In the last two years, his father had told him, the nation had begun to trade with nearly every continent on Gilia in some way or another. Mostly in small quantities, but every month brought new trade and treaties to the growing nation.

  It was strange that they had explored most of the known world and had not seen more ships like these before.

  Apparently much had changed in the three years he had been gone.

  It was all so strange. It was real. There was a part of him that had hoped as soon as he walked into the place he used to live; he would begin to feel at home again. He looked over his shoulder at the very room his father told him he had occupied for most of his life.

  Books about flying lay on top of a desk that was next to the large comfortable bed. Several scrolls and plans were laid out beside him. A small dresser held some of his old clothes across from the two other pieces of furniture. And this door which led to the balcony. All of these things were his.

  His room.

  He wanted it to feel familiar.

  But all it did was remind him of how much he had lost.

  He turned to look back over the balcony at the city and discovered with a start that he was not alone.

  “You used to always wake up early and start your day looking off the balcony. I told you were going to get sick from the cold winds. You never listened then. Guess you still won’t.”