Chains of Fate
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This is dedicated to anyone and everyone who doesn’t straight up BLAM this
piece.
And, on a more serious note, at the risk of sounding melodramatic…
This is dedicated to anyone who has found themselves bound by events beyond
their control. Keep on fighting, cause no matter what, you can’t lose as
long as you don’t give up.
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Solais looked around the huge court yard, at all the faces staring at him.
All the faces, belonging to all the demons. All the demons, so eager to see
him dead for the glory of their master.
He was going to die.
“Brother! How nice of you to join us once again!” a voice called out,
booming in the silence. Solais’ brother, Sorgath Destridian. The elder of
the two brothers. The would-be ruler of the hell known as Nightmare.
Solais was going to die.
“Yes, brother. It’s good to be back. How many years has it been now?
Thirty?” Solais unlimbered the sickle he wore on his back, cast off the
tattered black cloak, revealing the black armor underneath that seemed to
steal the very light from the air. Expertly, he twirled the deadly scythe
and took a ready stance, his wings flaring wide, preparing to give the beat
that would send him skyward. His left hand, fingers spread, palm facing out,
extended towards the thousands of bloodthirsty fiends, eager to eat him,
body and soul. His right gripped his sickle behind his back. He would make
all those present pay dearly for all the trouble they’d given him.
Solais Destridian was going to die.
“Do you have any hope of prevailing? Even in the face off all these,
brother?” Sorgath asked, pausing slightly. “Even when faced with me?”
“No, brother, or, at least, not living afterwards. But as long as I can
kill what you’ve become, then this sad excuse of a spirit of mine can find
rest. That’s all I need.”
With this exchange of words, Solais lashed out with his sickle, beheading
three of the demons nearest him. The others leapt, claws, talons, teeth,
weapons, all reaching out to end his life.
Solais Destridian, one time prince of the Korgai region of the realm known
as Nightmare, was going to die.
He had no regrets.
…
Thirty Years Earlier
…
“Move quickly, brother! You’re going to miss your chance if you don’t!”
yelled the elder of the brothers Destridian. Sorgath laughed and dodged
backwards, once more avoiding the clumsy sword stroke of his younger
sibling, Solais Destridian. He lashed out with his own blade, catching his
younger brother a smarting blow on the back of the practice helm he wore.
Clang! Solais fell, ears ringing, sword falling from his hand, and sprawled
in an undignified pile on the ground.
“Owww….” he grumbled, sitting upright and waiting for the world to stop
spinning. He glared up at his brother. “Sorgath, why do you make me practice
with you? You know I’m probably the most inept demon in all of Nightmare
when it comes to swordplay!” Solais, all of nineteen years and already
showing the impudence and rashness that he would exhibit many centuries
later, sat up, putting a hand to his head. “Besides, you know I’m better
with pole arms, or even bare-handed. I don’t have any skill whatsoever with
these things!”
Sorgath knelt down next to his younger sibling, and one true friend in the
world. “True, you are lacking in swordsmanship…but still, you’re so
incredibly strong in other areas. I just want you to be well balanced,
because if something happens to me, you’re the one who has to take over
ruling Korgai, when father passes on the crown.” He placed his hands
familiarly on his half brother’s shoulders. Both of them acted as brothers,
for they had the same mother, but two different fathers. Their mother had
left them long ago, shortly after Solais had been born, and Sorgath had only
been three. Neither one really remembered what she looked like. To them,
Kashigra Destridian was a mere name, nothing more. Solais’ father was also
unknown to them, being a human that their mother had once fed off of.
Neither boy had seen any need to go and visit him, considering that he was
reputed to live in the wastelands region of Nightmare, with a tribe of
humans called the Saoris. Some strange ability outside of human adaptation
was supposedly responsible for any human existence in Nightmare at all.
Sorgath’s father, Targos, however, the one from whom both boys took their
surname, was a reality…often a painful one for Solais, whom was disliked by
the greater demon for being half human.
“Right, like that old fart would ever pass on the crown to me. He’d as soon
give it to a beggar as to me, regardless of circumstance.” Both knew this
was not far from the truth. The cold ruler of the Korgai region was not one
to tolerate weakness in any fashion, and the fact that Solais was half human
was a weakness to him. Solais would be dead now, if not for the fact that he
was blood-kin to their family…and the fact that Sorgath wouldn’t allow such
a thing, being so attached to his sibling.
Both boys had similar facial features- narrow, almost delicate looking jaw
lines, high brow- inherited from their mother. Other than facial features,
however, there wasn’t much in common. Solais had jet black, shoulder length
hair, eyes of a bright violet shade with crimson cat-slit pupils, and no
facial hair, despite being at the age at which he should start growing some,
by human standards. He had a tall, thin build. His wings were white, except
around the edges, which were black.
Sorgath was as tall as his brother, but looked to be a mountain of muscle.
Broad of chest and shoulder, the elder brother looked like the warrior he
was. His blond hair, which fell to the middle of his back, fluttered in the
wind. His eyes were emerald green, also with cat-slit pupils. But his
pupils, unlike his brothers, were not black: they were gold. His wings were
black, except for the edges, which were white…a fact which often made the
brothers think of the opposite natures they had. Where Solais was impudent,
rash, hated thinking things through, and often moody, his brother was always
thinking things through before acting, respectful of everyone else, and
generally seemed to have a good mood at all times.
“Solais…” Sorgath sighed. He tightened his grip on his brother’s shoulders,
lifted him in one easy movement, and threw him about ten feet to the small
lake in the glade. He then laughed in amusement as his brother came up
sputtering and coughing.
“What did you do that for?!” Solais yelled angrily, treading water for the
shore.
“Because you were getting moody again, sinking into self-pity.” Sorgath
paused, then continued, almost as an afterthought. “And because it was
funny.”
“I didn’t think it was very funny…” Solais muttered to himself, climbing
out and flaring his wings to get the water out of the feathers.
“Oh no?” Sorgath said, striding forward with a huge grin on his face. “Then
perhaps a repeat lesson is in order. Just to make sure you get the funny
side of it.”
Solais’ eyes widened, and he quickly uttered a fake laugh, which eventually
turned into a real one as his brother doubled over with laughter at his
expression.
Eventually, both of them went back to the keep of the castle, still smiling
and laughing, joking the entire way there. A perfect picture of brotherly
revelry.
Neither one could possibly know that that would be the last time either
would share such a time together after the tragedy that occurred that night.
The night when Sorgath found the sword his father had brought home from a
war so many years ago and never told him about, the sword called Destiny
Twister.
Solais slept, but not soundly. The inhabitants of Nightmare that did sleep
rarely slept soundly, given the name and purpose of the realm they dwelled
in…but this sleep was particularly restless. Solais saw in his dreams fires
spreading wildly, creatures dying needlessly…widespread carnage…death,
destruction, mayhem…and worst of all was what he saw, floating above it all,
laughing madly, face made evil by the paint it wore, and the shadows cast
upon it from the flames.
He saw Sorgath.
Solais awoke in a cold sweat, gasping loudly, his wide eyes luminous in the
darkness. Slowly he slumped back onto his bed in the room he shared with his
brother…only to sit upright again once he realized that his brother was not
there.
“Hmmmm…that’s odd. It’s not like Sorgath to go wandering about the keep
after dark…” he said softly to himself. He tried to convince himself that
his brother had merely gone to the jakes and would return momentarily. But
the dread he felt in the pit of his stomach wouldn’t let him believe it.
Neither would the low, mad-sounding laughter he heard coming from his
father’s room down the hall.
Slowly, and with dread at what he might find there, the younger brother
Destridian rose from his bed and sneaked out the door of the bedroom he
shared with his elder brother. He made his way stealthily towards his
father’s room, noting that the door was ajar…and that there was a sickly
green light spilling out from it. The laughter was louder now that he was
closer, but it wasn’t any that he’d heard before…he peeked into the doorway…
And was confronted by the sight of his brother, Sorgath, covered in blood,
eyes wide, laughing madly with their father’s head in his lap and an odd
sword in his hand, glowing green, casting it’s sickening light all over the
room.
Solais burst into the room. “Brother!” he cried out, “What have you done?!”
Sorgath turned his head slowly towards the sound of his younger brother’s
voice, apparently undisturbed with being caught in the act of murder. “It
called me, Solais….the sword…it called me…told me that my destiny was at
hand…that this old fool was all that was standing between me and my rightful
place in this realm….the ruler of all Nightmare…” His grin widened, and that
laughter, sick with madness, chimed out from his throat once more, louder
this time.
The guards stationed outside the hallway to the Royal Suites came rushing
in, armor clattering with each step. Their eyes widened as they saw Targos’
head in Sorgath’s lap. Their halberds clattered to the floor as their hands
released them, shocked by this sudden turn of events. Targos, lord of
Korgai, was no one’s favorite person…but he had seemed an invincible figure
in the eyes of many. To be slain in such a manner…and by the hand of his own
son, the one he treasured above all others…
Both guards sank to their knees in a kneeling position, and they recovered
their halberds….and placed their right hands over their chests. “Hail to the
new Duke of Korgai. Hail to Duke Sorgath.” they both intoned.
“See brother? Barely five minutes dead, and already my legacy is being
fulfilled over this old idiot’s corpse.” Sorgath let out another peal of his
mad laughter, his head thrown back, long hair reaching the floor.
Solais merely stared on in horror.
“I see…so brother, you refuse to defer to me, do you? That makes you a
traitor.” Before Solais could wonder what his brother, his best and only
friend in this realm or any other, was talking about, he was struck in the
jaw by the new Duke’s fist. He cried out as he flew back into the hallway,
striking the wall, and sliding to the floor. He shook his head, completely
confused and dazed…and looked up to see Sorgath towering over him.
“Traitors to my cause and my destiny can’t be allowed to live, brother.”
Sorgath struck out with his foot, taking Solais in the ribs. Solais heard
three cracks and felt the fiery pain explode in his side, and knew that at
least three of his ribs were now broken. He flew down the hall with the
force of the kick, bouncing off the floor on his wounded side, and hearing
another crack. Four ribs, now, he thought distractedly, eyes watering from
the pain. He came to a halt on his stomach on the floor. Holding his left
arm against his injured left side, he tried to rise using his right
arm….only to have his right arm shattered by another monstrous kick from his
brother. He fell back to the floor, his right arm useless, and felt the foot
used to kick him come down on his back, heel grinding triumphantly.
“Take him! I won’t dirty my blade with this loathsome creature’s blood.”
Sorgath turned his back on his brother, and as Solais’ vision started to
fade, he thought he heard him mutter “You’ll survive…you’re stronger than
you give yourself credit for, little one.”
Then his vision faded to black and he heard no more.
DARKNESS
Solais opened his eyes to the feel of the wind on his face…about sixty feet
up. He looked down and saw the desert sands of the wasteland region…and
fires off in the distance, many miles away. Camp fires. He gathered some of
his power into himself, knowing that there was next to no way he could
survive a fall…and absolutely no way he could survive wherever the guards
were taking him to. He concentrated on the area around him and unleashed the
energy, watching as both of the guards holding him exploded into fountains
of blood and feathers. Now he had to slow his fall before he…
DARKNESS
A loud thud sounded as he hit the sand, and Solais bounced, his outspread
wings, the only things that had saved him from being splattered when he
passed out as he fell by catching some of the air current, crumpled beneath
him. He cried out in agony as his shattered body landed, and he fell once
more, in his mind, into the
DARKNESS
Solais awoke again, but only partly. His mind was almost gone with all the
pain. It was daylight in the wasteland now, and he had no bearings…except
for the vaguely remembered campfires. He turned in the direction he’d last
seen them, and began the long task of climbing over the dunes in his way.
There was no smoke, no sign that he was heading in the right direction, but
all he could do was press on and hope that
DARKNESS
What had he been thinking? It hardly seemed to matter. He had passed out
again, but somehow, kept on walking even through his mindless state. He
vaguely registered the tents surrounding him…or the people standing in front
of them, watching him warily. He barely registered the old man looking at
him with recognition. He barely noticed as he fell forward, his body unable
to continue onward, and collapsed once more into the merciful
DARKNESS
He awoke once more, his entire body tingling, to the sound of moaning and
panting. His eyes opened, and he beheld a raven-haired beauty straddling his
hips. Finally, the feeling of arousal, the sense of energy flowing into him,
rejuvenating him. He vaguely wondered who this woman was, or how she knew
that her sensual energy would heal him. Wonder, however, ceased to matter,
as his body took over. He reached his hands up to her hips and began to
guide her up and down. Her eyes opened a bit wider at the sudden contact,
but her lips curved up into a sensual smile. Her hands reached down,
caressing his chest as she rode him. She feels so good… Solais thought. And
indeed she did. Her tight, slippery walls wrapped around his member felt
wonderful…the way her slick tunnel slid over the rigid shaft of his manhood,
leaving a sheen of her juices behind as she reached the head, only to
descend again. Every time she started to come back down, she’d wiggle her
hips a bit, writhing on his cock. Her moans became higher and higher as she
came closer to the edge. Solais brought his hands up to her wondrous
breasts, and his fingers sought out her nipples. The stiff peaks seemed to
beg for attention…and attention was what he planned to give to them. His
thumbs and forefingers massaged the buds, rolling and pinching them as she
rode him. She gasped her pleasure at this and arched her back, throwing back
her head, pushing her breasts forward. Solais leaned up and kissed them,
also to the obvious pleasure of the gorgeous black-haired woman sitting atop
him. Her hips bucked a little more frantically, and she began to squeeze him
even more tightly within her, making it difficult to move. He felt his own
passion rising with hers, her constant clenching and gripping of his shaft
causing him no end of pleasure. Together, they burned brighter and brighter,
until, with a final cry, the girl atop him achieved her long-awaited climax.
Her body stiffened atop him, and her center clamped down on him as her
juices flooded out of her, cascading down his length. Solais, unable to hold
back any longer, arched his back and cried out as well, a wordless,
animalistic sound, and he shot his seed inside of her, coating her walls
with his hot cum.
As he began to come back down, the edges of Solais’ vision began to fade
again. Just before he went back under, he heard the voice of the girl as she
spoke to him two simple words: “Thank you.” Then, once again, all was
DARKNESS
Once again, he awoke. It was a wonder that he’d awoken at all. How long ago
was it that he’d been labeled a traitor and dropped in this region? He
didn’t know... but he realized that he felt good. More than just having
healed…he was coherent again.
An old man sat in a chair by the wall of the tent he lay in. Seeing his
violet eyes open, the old man smiled. The old one from when I first wandered
here…how long ago was that? “So, you’re finally awake, are you…Solais?”
“How do you know me, old man? And…are you…of the Saoris?” The younger
brother Destridian tried to sit, and groaned as his sore ribs and arm
protested loudly. Apparently, he wasn’t as recovered as he’d previously
believed.
“I know you as any father knows his son, Solais. Your mother would have
been proud to know her son was such a survivor.” The old man responded,
almost nonchalantly, and Solais was left to wonder father? MY father? just
before he sank one last time into the waiting
DARKNESS
He awoke again, and rose from the bed immediately. He felt no more pain, but
a tremendous amount of energy…he couldn’t sleep anymore if he wanted to.
Solais wandered out of the entrance to the tent, giving his wings an
experimental flare, finding that they still worked. This was good, as he’d
need them to fly back to Korgai and take his brother down. He’d already
decided on his course of action when a voice called out and stopped him from
winging off into the night of the wasteland.
“Leaving already, son?” It was the old man claiming to be his father again.
“Why do you call me that? My father is dead, so is my mother. All I had
left was my brother, but he’s turned somehow. I have no one left.” Solais
responded, a touch annoyed at the old man’s insistence. And he didn’t even
know his name…
As if reading Solais’ thoughts, the old man said “I am your father, Solais,
and you know it to be true. Oh, and by the way, my name’s Krenn. Krenn
Saoris.”
Solais did indeed know it to be true. He didn’t know how…he just knew.
Maybe he’d even known when he first saw the old man’s eyes widen in
surprised recognition of him…but it hardly mattered. He needed to be away
from here. He needed to slay the thing that was once his brother.
“You can’t beat him, you know. It’s been a month since you came, and he’s
conquered about half of Nightmare already.” Krenn said, guessing once again
at the turn of Solais’ thoughts. “And judging by the shape you were in when
you collapsed here, he spanked you pretty hard last time you were with him.”
“How the hell do you…ahhh, never mind!” Solais replied irritably. “It
doesn’t matter. I have to beat him, and so I will.”
Krenn thought this over for a moment and then spoke. “I’ll let you go,
then…but only if you can beat my best warrior. Yes, he’s a human, but you’d
best not underestimate him.”
“No human can stand up to what I am.” Solais said, slightly miffed that
this old man would even pretend to joke about something like that.
Except it became obvious he wasn’t joking. A warrior stepped out from
behind the tent, heavily muscled, with long brown hair. Wordlessly, he took
up a fighting crouch, and waited for Solais to do the same.
Sighing impatiently, Solais slid into his own fighting stance. “Fine, let’s
get this over with already.”
The last word had hardly left his mouth before the warrior moved forward
with an incredible speed. It was almost impossible to follow with the naked
eye. Without making a sound, he swept Solais’ feet out from under him and
had his fist at the boy’s throat, just a hair’s breadth away from killing
him, had he not stopped. Solais looked up at him with shocked eyes.
“How…what did you…where…” all he could do was stutter and flounder,
wondering how he’d been bested so easily.
The warrior merely grinned down at him and said two words: “You’re
pathetic.”
Then he laughed and helped Solais to his feet, dusting him off. “But you
won’t be much longer. My name’s Juste. I’m the top fighter of the Saoris
tribe. And, lucky you, I’m your teacher. By the time we’re done, you’ll
never be bested again.” He looked at Solais with another grin, and said
“Although, judging by what I’ve seen of you so far, it’ll probably be a
looooong time before we’re done.” He laughed again and patted Solais on the
back.
Solais’ long days of training began then, under the strict and watchful eye
of Juste Saoris.
…
Thirty Years Later
…
And a long time it was. For thirty years, Solais trained under Juste. He
eventually became a great hand to hand combatant, and was unbelievably
lethal with pole arms. He even improved his swordsmanship, though he was
still nothing to brag about with a sword…he much preferred using a spear or
staff to the bladed weapons, merely because it felt better to do so.
Over the long years, his body hardened and developed. What had once been a
thin, almost frail-looking boy of nineteen was now a heavily muscled, broad
shouldered man of forty-nine. However, despite his age, Solais looked no
older than twenty-five, an oddity that would not change, despite many
centuries to come. He still had an impudent air about him, and a quick and
impulsive nature, which had gotten him in trouble many times, including the
one when the giant serpent had come to devour the little village of tents
when they’d moved too close to its nest…he had rushed out alone with spear
in hand, leapt into the air, and struck a beautiful and graceful blow to the
serpents eye…enraging it and causing it to nearly crush him flat. Juste had
come to rescue him at the last minute, though, drawing his blade and
piercing the creature through a soft spot in its scales just over its heart.
Solais had climbed to his feet, looking sheepish, after the serpent died,
depositing him in the sand on his rump. Juste had merely laughed and walked
away.
His body wasn’t the only thing that had developed, however. Solais and
Juste had become as brothers almost. Which was what made this particular
conversation so difficult. Solais had nothing new to learn, and Juste had
nothing new to teach. Both had known that this would occur, but Solais still
didn’t want to leave.
“What do I care! This is the wasteland! Sorgath won’t come out here, he
can’t keep supply lines open! And besides, I say if he wants to let that
stupid dream of his eat him alive, let him!”
Juste regarded him calmly. His hair was shot with grey now, and he had
become the leader of the tribe of humans after Krenn had passed on, almost
two years earlier. Both he and Solais had grieved his passing…though Solais
never knew why he had grieved. He and the old man had never grown close.
They’d talked, of course, about many things…but neither one really knew how
to advance their relationship any further than mere talks. There were no
great father-son moments between them…but still he had grieved.
“You know there’s nothing left for you to gain here, Solais. You’re ready,
and you’re time is at hand. You’re acting foolish, and you know it.” Juste
said softly.
“So that’s it, then? You’re just going to toss me out now, after all these
years? What a joke.” Solais said bitterly…but without conviction. He did
know that it was time. He’d known since before this conversation had taken
place. “There’s still no way of knowing if I can even beat him yet…”
“Yes, you can beat him. And you and I both know you can. All that’s lacking
is the will.” Juste said, his old adage coming easily to mind. He’d said
this every time Solais had been on the verge of giving up, and now was no
different. “However, I’d not send you out empty handed…”
Solais looked at Juste. “And what could you give me now that would help? I
have to go and face my brother, who’s always been stronger than me, and I
have to beat him in battle. My own brother! The only friend I’ve ever had
besides you, Juste!” Solais’ heart felt as though it were going to break.
He’d already been left for dead by his first friend, his brother. Now his
only remaining friend in the world was casting him out.
Except he’s not casting you out, and you know it. Quit whining and listen
to what he has to say, he thought, admonishing himself mentally. “I’m sorry
Juste. I started to give in to self pity. What would you give to me?”
Juste grinned, and a spark of the young warrior he’d once been flared in
his eye. “I would give you nothing, Solais. However, there is something for
you to have.” And he proceeded to tell Solais of the cave at the heart of
the wastelands that the tribe had happened upon years before his arrival.
A few days later, Solais stood at the entrance of the cave, his ragged
black cloak drawn about him. He’d flown the whole way, but a sandstorm had
kicked up as he was landing, and he’d wrapped the tattered bit of cloth
around him to keep the sand from stinging his body.
He looked into the depths of the cave and saw only more darkness…
“Soonest begun, soonest done, and all that’s lacking is the will.” Solais
sighed to himself. He smiled ruefully and strode into the cave.
It was a large cave, but didn’t spread out anywhere. At first Solais
thought that it was empty…until the giant creature at the back opened its
crimson eyes. A shadow snake…but I thought those were myth! Solais thought
in alarm.
The shadow snake lunged forth, striking with incredible speed and ferocity,
and would have swallowed Solais Destridian whole.
Except Solais wasn’t standing there anymore. He’d jumped and given his
wings a single flap, sending him almost to the ceiling of the cave. His hand
glowed with a purple and black energy, and he fell down towards the snake’s
head, driving his fist below him in a devastating punch. His hand pierced
the snake’s skull, and plunged into it’s brain, leaving a rather disgusting
feeling on his hand. “That’s it? He sent me here to kill a snake? I don’t
care how legendary they are…this was a wasted trip.”
He turned to go…and was stopped as a red light filled the cave. He whirled
around, bringing his hands back up, concentrating energy into them once
again…and saw the corpse of the snake he had beaten so easily wrapped in a
crimson glow. What the hell…he wondered, watching the spectacle.
Suddenly, the glow burst into a light so bright he had to close his eyes
against it, along with a deafening explosion that threw him back against the
wall of the cave. He slumped against the wall, dazed by the impact, his ears
ringing from the sound. He heard a woman’s voice, singing a sad but proud
melody in a beautiful voice somewhere.
“Mother…mother you’re here…but where have you been?” Solais asked, seeing
the figure of his mother in the center of the light. Then everything went
dark.
When he came to, Solais was still in the cave. He opened his eyes slowly,
afraid of the blinding light he was sure waited to assault his eyes and
increase the pounding in his head.
Instead, he found that the incredibly brilliant light was gone, replaced
once again by a soft crimson glow. And at the center of the glow, a
beautiful woman with black wings floated, looking at him.
“Mother…” Solais said, knowing that he looked upon the face of none other
than Kashigra Destridian.
The woman smiled sadly at the sound of his voice. “Yes, little one…I am
your mother…or what’s left of her. Sadly, there is no time for a true
reunion. The last vestiges of my soul, that which you gaze upon now, are all
that are left of me. You destroyed the snake which served as the house to my
soul.” She raised her hand to stop him from speaking as he opened his mouth.
“I knew you would one day find this place, and that the snake’s demise would
come to pass by your hand, child. I left it here, as well as my remaining
presence, so that I could give you these gifts, which were the reason I left
you when you were so very young.”
Kashigra waved her hand, and the crimson aura around her gathered off to
the side and intensified….and eventually solidified into a pile. In this
pile, Solais saw a black helmet, black armored vest, black gauntlets, black
boots with metal plating, black greaves and shin guards, and a pair of black
leggings with black armor plates over them. That was not all he saw…for next
to the armor, leaning against the wall of the cave, was a huge sickle with
runes engraved on it’s blade. The runes pulsed with a crimson fire, and as
soon as he saw it, he knew that it would feel just perfect in his hand, as
though he’d made it himself.
He looked up at his mother, who smiled back down at him. “Your brother has
made quite a mess of an already dark land, my child. These are the
inheritance you receive from me, just as the blade your brother possesses,
the Destiny Twister, is his inheritance from his father. That blade has
twisted his mind…he believes it to be his true destiny to rule all of
Nightmare…you must stop him, before he throws all into even more chaos and
disorder, child. For if he succeeds, he‘ll continue forth, conquering other
realms and spreading pain and death to places that know nothing of such
things. In short, he‘ll destroy all of existence, as it were.”
“I suppose this is my destiny, then? To stop my brother’s mad ambition
before he can destroy the realms?” Solais replied, looking at the great
scythe and the armor once again.
Kashigra looked surprised by his statement, then laughed softly. “No.
you’re bound by no such thing, my son.” She came forward, knelt next to him,
and kissed his cheek softly. “Destiny is a vicious cycle, but only if you
allow yourself to be chained to its wheel, the way your brother has.” She
rose again and moved back. “My time here is done now. I’m sorry that I
couldn’t have been more of a mother to you…but apparently, such was never
meant to be my role. Still, know that you have my pride in you, my child…my
Solais.”
With that, she flickered, and faded from existence.
Solais, tears standing in his eyes, rose from the floor, and walked over to
the armor lying in a pile on the floor. He wiped his tears with his hand.
“Destiny is a vicious cycle…” the armor rose from the floor and began to
glow red again. Solais closed his eyes, thinking back on all that had
happened since that day so long ago that he’d been cast out into the
wastelands.
“But only if you allow yourself to be chained to its wheel.” The crimson
light that was the armor melted and conformed to the contours of his body.
When it once again dimmed, he was wearing the armor, his inheritance. The
sickle floated up from its resting place against the wall, and drifted into
his hand. As soon as it came into contact with his hand, the runes on its
blade blazed with silent crimson fury. Fate Breaker, he thought.
He lifted it, and knew that he was right: the weapon felt as though it was
made exclusively for him, and as though he was the only one who could
possibly derive any use from it.
“Brother…I come for you. With this, my inheritance, I will break the chains
of destiny that bind you to its wheel. The shackles of fate will no longer
restrain you…I shall set you free.”
Solais set forth to finish his business. His brother needed to be set free.
He was the only one who could do it.
He spread his wings and flew off into the night sky, heading towards the
keep of Korgai.
Upon reaching the keep, he saw the heavy fortifications. Solais saw how his
home had changed. He felt that it should set his teeth on edge, or give him
a feeling of sadness, or some other such thing…but he felt none of that. He
felt only the pull of the task before him, the task he’d set for himself.
He landed on the ground just inside the wall, silently dispatching two
guards with the great sickle on his back, and snuck up to the great doors
leading to the keep interior, drawing his knife. He paused as the great
doors opened, keeping himself hidden from view by remaining on the outside
of the opening edge. He watched the guard that stalked out - an odd creature
that looked like a jackal, walking on two legs - and stalked behind it. He
wrapped an arm around its throat, cutting off its air, and dragged it back
to the shadows. Solais cut the straps holding its chest armor in place,
catching the armor on his shin, guiding its fall to the grass so it wouldn’t
make a clatter. He paused a moment, his knifepoint against the guard’s
chest, and thought to himself, This might have worked better if I’d just
split him open with the sickle and had done with it… Then he plunged the
long knife deep into the guard’s chest, feeling its heart still and its body
twitch once…twice….thrice…and then go limp against him. Solais looked at the
newly-bloodied knife in his hand, and smiled a grim smile.
“Nah,” he said to himself, “The knife works just fine.” He cleaned it off,
sheathed it, and snuck in through the now open door.
Solais made his way to the center of the keep, keeping hidden in the
shadows when large groups of guards or soldiers wandered past, taking down
the smaller groups and units with his knife, never raising an alarm. He hid
the bodies in the shadows, under cloths, in abandoned rooms, anywhere handy
at the moment.
Finally, he came to a set of double doors, which, he knew, led to the huge
inner courtyard, an area ringed on all sides by the walls of the keep’s
tower. He took a deep breath, sheathed his knife, and opened the doors…his
gaze quickly falling upon the luscious beauty of the inner garden, the trees
and grass, wildflowers, and man-made stream coursing around the edges. He’d
spent many summers here, when he’d felt depressed. It seemed that nothing
had changed…
Except, of course, for the hundreds of Nightmare creatures standing in the
center of the garden, waiting for him.
“And so begins the end,” Solais said softly to himself.
…
Beginning of the End
…
Solais looked around the huge court yard, at all the faces staring at him.
All the faces, belonging to all the demons. All the demons, so eager to see
him dead for the glory of their master.
He was going to die.
“Brother! How nice of you to join us once again!” a voice called out,
booming in the silence. Solais’ brother, Sorgath Destridian. The elder of
the two brothers. The would-be ruler of the hell known as Nightmare.
Solais was going to die.
“Yes, brother. It’s good to be back. How many years has it been now?
Thirty?” Solais unlimbered the sickle he wore on his back, cast off the
tattered black cloak, revealing the black armor underneath that seemed to
steal the very light from the air. Expertly, he twirled the deadly scythe
and took a ready stance, his wings flaring wide, preparing to give the beat
that would send him skyward. His left hand, fingers spread, palm facing out,
extended towards the thousands of bloodthirsty fiends, eager to eat him,
body and soul. His right gripped his sickle behind his back. He would make
all those present pay dearly for all the trouble they’d given him.
Solais Destridian was going to die.
“Do you have any hope of prevailing? Even in the face off all these,
brother?” Sorgath asked, pausing slightly. “Even when faced with me?”
“No, brother, or, at least, not living afterwards. But as long as I can
kill what you’ve become, then this sad excuse of a spirit of mine can find
rest. That’s all I need.”
With this exchange of words, Solais lashed out with his sickle, beheading
three of the demons nearest him. The others leapt, claws, talons, teeth,
weapons, all reaching out to end his life.
Solais Destridian, one time prince of the Korgai region of the realm known
as Nightmare, was going to die.
He had no regrets.
He spun quickly, lashing out in all directions with his sickle with blinding
speed. Demons fell left and right to his wheeling attacks, the scythe
dancing in his hands claiming their lives in droves. He gathered his innate
magical abilities and sent out gouts of dark flame. His booted feet lashed
out, crushing skulls, breaking bones. Every portion of his frame bunched and
flowed like quicksilver. Every strike that looked as though it would bring
him to his end merely came down on empty air or another demon. Five minutes
into the fray and he’d killed over two hundred of them already.
There were thousands crowding into the courtyard, and more than that behind
him. He fought demons shaped like himself, though there were few of those.
There were demons that resembled lizards, cats, dogs, and even some odd
looking fish.
They all fell. More came to take their place.
After an hour of fighting, Solais was tiring. His body was weary and
drenched in sweat. The armor he wore had kept him from death, as several
times, he’d been unable to get his guard up in time. The weapons that struck
upon it merely broke, time and again. However, the weapons that happened
upon his unprotected arms and the areas on his legs where there were no
metal plates, caused damage. He bled from hundreds of small cuts, and he
could feel himself weakening, his pace slowing.
“Enough!” boomed a voice from above. All the fighting stopped, and everyone
looked up. There, clad in the golden armor and cape of Targos, was Sorgath
Destridian. In his hand was none other than the blade, Destiny Twister.
Sorgath leapt from the balcony, using his wings to slow his fall, and
landed next to his brother. He looked down. Solais had changed since the
last time he’d seen him. No longer was he the moody little child he had
been, thin and weak. Here was a being of incredible strength and power.
Sorgath felt a rush of pride flow through him. Good for you, little brother.
I knew you’d be able to make it…
Suddenly, the blade in his hand pulsed out its sickly green light, and the
pride he’d felt a moment ago was replaced by hatred and fury. How dare this
little worm come here, clearly challenging his rule? How dare he! It was the
destiny of Sorgath, and Sorgath alone, to rule Nightmare, and no upstart was
going to take his legacy from him! He raised the sword…then brought it down,
right at his brother’s neck, a blow that would have severed his head…had he
remained there.
Solais was off to the right, dodging the vicious stroke with ease, and
bringing the sickle up into a ready position. His eyes glowed their violet
shade…but instead of the normal black cat-slit pupils, there were crimson
ones. The runes on Fate Breaker burned balefully as well, crimson flame
spitting forth from them. The two brothers regarded each other from a
distance of about twenty feet. Both in their ready stances, they stared at
each other, waiting to see who would make the first move.
Solais made the first move, just as Sorgath knew he would. However, this
was not the same rushing lad he’d practiced with years ago. The move was
full of deadly purpose, and completely absent of any of the clumsy
indecisiveness he’d previously possessed. He rushed forward, covering the
twenty feet in a breathtaking burst of speed, and crossed blades with his
brother. And with that, the fight began.
The two brothers clashed again and again, dodging, slashing, thrusting,
even punching and kicking. For over an hour they fought, back and forth,
neither able to gain the upper hand. Each blow was blocked, each thrust
parried, each attack countered, only to have the counterattack countered.
Sorgath wielded Destiny Twister with all his might, swinging and slashing
and stabbing in every combination he could possibly think of. He blocked
every blow from Solais, returning them in kind. His body danced with the
rhythm of battle. Still, he could not gain any sort of advantage.
Solais danced also, feeling the pulse of the fight flowing around them. He
twisted and twirled, spinning Fate Breaker deftly, thrusting with the
butt-end of the weapon, slashing with its wickedly curved blade, blocking
and checking with the shaft, sweeping at the feet, everything he could think
of, both conventional and unconventional. He also could gain no foothold
over his brother, try as he might.
Suddenly, however, Solais’ foot slipped in the grass on a patch of blood,
and with a curse, he went down, falling flat on his back, Fate Breaker still
in hand. With a cry of triumph, Sorgath rushed forth, all caution forgotten,
and thrust downward with Destiny Twister, seeking to end his brother’s life.
He was so intent, he didn’t even notice when Solais swung his legs around,
spinning himself back up to his feet while knocking Sorgath from his own.
All he knew was that he was suddenly on his back.
With the blade of a sickle buried in his chest.
He felt blood welling up in his chest cavity, and coughed, appalled at the
amount of blood that came out. His eyes cleared of their madness, and he saw
everything clearly again.
“Brother…Solais…thank you…and I’m sorry…” Sorgath’s lifeblood flowed out of
the deep chest wound. He coughed horribly, a wet, sick sound, blood
trickling from his mouth as he did so.
“I’m sorry…I was too weak to resist the pull of what I thought was
unavoidable destiny…I allowed myself…to be used. And, more regrettably…I
tried to kill you.” He coughed again, eliciting more blood from his throat.
His eyes closed, as though he were sleeping. His hand lost its grip on
Destiny Twister, and he lay still.
Solais came forth, tears standing in his eyes once again, and cradled his
brother‘s body in his arms, weeping.
“It’s me who should apologize, brother…I failed to recognize the change…I
didn’t heed the dream I had…I could have stopped this madness, but I
didn’t…and now my dearest friend is gone from me.” He’d been so sure he
would die this day…but instead he was alive, while his brother lay dying on
the ground. He wiped his eyes. The deed was done, and now all was back to
normal again.
Except all was not back to normal. He saw the blade lying on the ground…it
looked so powerful…he reached down and grasped Destiny Twister in his hand
and felt its pulse against him…suddenly he knew…he could continue where his
pathetic weakling of a brother had left off. He could be the one to rule all
the realms. He could be the king of all! He…
Reached down with his other hand, grasped the blade itself, and flexing
with all his strength, snapped the blade in two. There was a huge wail, that
of a soul being sucked into the abyss…and a green mist arose from the sword.
You fool! it cried You seek to unmake that which is destiny? It shall not
come to pass!
The mist flowed into Solais, and he fell to his knees, once again assaulted
by the thoughts of glory and conquest. Surely he could conquer all…it was
his destiny after all…
His mother’s voice rang into his mind again with clarity: “Destiny is a
vicious cycle, but only if you allow yourself to be chained to its wheel.”
Solais rose from his feet. “No way in hell…this or any other…will I allow
myself to become a pawn to the likes of you!” And with a wordless roar, he
rose and cast the mist out. He drew forth his great scythe, Fate Breaker,
with it’s wicked blade blazing crimson in the darkness, and slashed at the
mist form hovering before him. He watched with a certain satisfaction as the
mist split and evaporated, letting out a thin, ethereal wail as it
dissipated.
He looked around the courtyard and saw all the demons who had thirsted for
his blood a moment ago kneeling before him. “Hail the new King of Nightmare!
Hail to Solais Destridian!” they all intoned…then fell silent as he shook
his head at them.
“No, I’ll not be your king. There is no King of Nightmare. It shall all
return the way it has been. I have been infused with something I cannot cast
out…I cannot rule you, for I would merely seek to destroy everything as my
brother did before me. Bury him with honor, and remember him as the first
and last King of Nightmare. I will not take up that mantle.” He felt it
pulsing within himself…though he’d destroyed its corporeal manifestation, he
knew that to remain in Nightmare would only entice him to rule all. Whatever
the mist had meant to do within him, it had accomplished one thing: he felt
the taint of it on his very spirit. He raised his voice so all could hear
him. “I hereby cast off the name of Destridian, and choose to take up the
surname of my father’s people. From this point forth, if you refer to me,
then do so as Solais Saoris.”
With that said, Solais turned, set Fate Breaker across his shoulders, and
gathered in his will, opening a rift in the very air before him, a great
void of purple and black. The inhabitants of Nightmare were no longer his
people. He had no people anymore. He had no home.
Solais Destridian had died.
Solais Saoris was born from the triumph over destiny. And as this new
entity walked through the dark portal that opened before him, to unknown
territories, he said, loudly enough for anyone who’d listen, the words that
would forever become his mantra:
“Destiny is a vicious cycle, but only if you allow yourself to be chained
to its wheel. You are free to break the shackles of fate that bind you. All
that’s lacking is the will.”
Then he stepped through the portal into his self-imposed exile, not with
dread or dismay, but with his head held high.