Regnum Resurrection
A Novella

Prologue

And so he rode into the blackest of nights, straining his eyes to see what he was certain wasn’t there. In the end it seemed pointless, but still Vlei strode on, hoping to find what he sought. His black and silver cape splayed out behind him, having once been tucked carefully beneath him, and he then looked much like a large bat riding a midnight steed. Frustration boiled up inside of him. Certainly an assassin of such esteem as himself wouldn’t be wasted on menial tasks? That was what the Combies were for, brutish though they were: the fact that they took orders without a single word or rebuttal made his life so much easier in the long run.

Ah, but it wasn’t that hard, just so boring – and he hated boredom; he fled from it, much like a sickly phobia. Boredom was like a putrid stink waved under his nose. He was forced to engage it, but unable to abate it. Such was the life of a traveling assassin. Ah well, Master Silasaran will be pleased when the Chosen One becomes one with his swarm. I never thought Tesla was a welcomed host, anyways. He licked his lips, running his thin tongue over his sharp fangs. Very soon now we will reach the place where the spirit has congregated. My speed is unmatchable. Like shadows we fled into the night, mixing among the sentient and insentient beings of the ancient world. Together we fly, together we swarm, and together we shall capture the prize of my master.

As fascinating as that sounded, Vlei still couldn’t get himself interested in the chase. Instead he ran his fingers through his hair, which was flowing out behind him like superheated air in the wind. Usually the chase infiltrated his blood like a toxin, surging through him, making sweat run from his scalp like a broken faucet. His bones would chatter and his teeth would gnash at the thought of another exhilarating chase… but no more. The element of surprise was gone. There was just no challenge in this chase. There was the problem. He knew everything was predestined – either he would retrieve the spirit, or the Ordain would retrieve the spirit – of course, the last of those would spell certain failure for him, and he had never experienced failure. Once again the adrenaline coursed through his empty veins. Failure could not happen to him.

As he neared the sight of the laboratory, that word became more and more engrained into his mind, and as the distant smell of smoke rudely invaded his sensitive nostrils, it became more of a possibility. Damn them to the bowels of Car’roc! Cursed mortals… they reached this location before… He then realized that failure tasted curiously like blood and soot. It was disgusting, and he sought to remedy it.

“I will eat their flesh!” he exclaimed, expounding his rage.

Oh yes, they certainly had gotten there before himself and the Pericul. The remnants of the laboratory proved that – if they were even sufficient as remnants. Everything was scorched, and the walls simply represented a burnt-out shell that once was a sophisticated building. Apparatuses littered the floor, and as Vlei stepped down from his horse, they crunched under his thick boots. He felt a convulsion rip through him, mechanism being the sound of the glass crunching and his own uncontrollable fury. No one had declared his efforts a failure before, and yet here he was, trembling with every step as he surveyed the damage.

“What caused the explosion?” a voice asked behind him. He turned his head slightly to see another of the Pericul mounted on a horse behind him, his twisted face full of questions. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other four, whose horses stepped gingerly into the remains damaged building.

“The spirit was forced to mold before it was ready,” Vlei responded coldly, bending knee to pick up a semi-melted clip chart. The paper had burnt up half way, and he couldn’t see nor understand the symbols on the paper, but he saw in his mind’s eye a detailed description of the spirit they sought. He tossed the clip board back down, hearing it rattle. A thin coat of soot dusted off his leather hide gloves. “It must do it on its own accord, not by the demands of outside forces, hence why this building didn’t survive. I would go as far as to say the mortals didn’t survive either, but I fail to see any bodies in this wreckage.”

The other Pericul looked out among the debris, failing to see bodies as well. He would have expected the stench of burnt skin to invade his senses, but there was none, only the masking scent of the smoke. That in itself was enough to disturb his peace, but as a trained Pericul he knew better than to make an offending statement.

“Tracks!” another of the Pericul exclaimed, pointing westbound. “I have found tracks. They are heading toward the mountains.”

Vlei jumps onto his horse, raising his black staff high. “The filthy Ordain have fled toward the mountains. We shall follow them and claim the prize that belongs to Master Silasaran. Let us go!” With that, he dug his heels into the side of his beast, and it began with a trot and then with a run. The others followed him, spread out in the shape of a V for any that observed it from up high. Of course, there were none to witness it, as they moved swift as shadows among the shade.

He saw the mountains rising before his eyes; they were enormous soldiers that stood up from the ground and became more and more threatening as he grew closer with his clan. The edge of the mountains came quicker and quicker, but at that very moment he felt his horse slowing down. Its heart was fluttering lightly, like a mouse’s. But why was it afraid? It skidded to a halt at the foot of the mountains, pawing nervously at the ground. He looked back to see the other horses reacting in the same way. They turned in circles, whined and cried.

Vlei looked toward the mountains. Tiny lights shined, like fireflies up in the darkness, yet he knew they were spirits. Spirits inhabited this world; spirits are what gave everything its power. A tiny voice whispered through the mountains, but quickly it became loud enough for Vlei’s sharp ears to pick it up. You are of the fallen! You are of great sin! Because of your burdens, you cannot pass within!

Warnings – they were warnings for him not to pass through the mountains. But no one bars Vlei entrance to anything! A snarl crept across his thin lips as he regarded their silly phrases. “Do not test my patience!” Vlei exclaimed, thrusting his fist forward in frustration. Laughter echoed all around him, further poking at his irritation. The horses still refused to budge. They stood there, like roots emerging from the ground. You will never gain passage! You will never gain passage! Not until the sky turns to dust and the world falls to ashes!

Taunters! Vlei dismounted from the horse, and with that signal the others did as well. They came up from behind him, waiting for his order. He twisted his bony hand into a tight fist, eyes narrowing in anger. “With your power I conjure your control!” he exclaimed, conjuring forth a powerful spell of manipulation. His fist lit with flame, and he could hear the screams from the thousands of voices that occupied the mountain. They struggled to resist his will, he felt them pulling away, but ever so skillfully he drew them back in like a fisherman netting helpless fish. He crushed them in his mind, forcing them to withdraw their warnings.

In a fury, Vlei stalked toward the mountain, the flames gathering around his fist. The others followed him obediently, silently, as they were trained to do. He felt uncontrollable rage burning through him; a virus swept through his flesh and blood and made every nerve ending in his body scream in agony. Foolish spirits – they were no match for him.

Flee faster, flee farther, our father and mother! The spirits began to chant in unison, their desperateness growing with every word. Flee harder, flee faster, our sister and brother! Vlei paid no attention to their desperate calls. Instead, he raised his black staff high and smothered the mountainside in unquenchable flame. Distortion took to the rock, melting it under Vlei’s anger and humiliation. His fingers shook as he held the staff, as he was unable to cure his unsettled nerves.

And so he screamed! And such a scream that was – a compilation of torturous, endless days of searching, all ending here in a futile attempt to regain his glory. Oh, how he burned and seethed in anger and disbelief! His accomplices fanned out behind him, searching the mountainside for the scientists and their prize – the prize that rightfully belonged to Master Silasaran.

Flee faster, flee farther, our father and mother! Flee harder, flee faster, our sister and brother! The voices of the spirits echoed through and through, a strange distortion of the shades’ vain attempt at scouring the mountainside. There was nothing to be found, not single footprint remained.