Revival of Valda a New Path, page 1
Copyright © 2023 by Valentina Mitrani
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Hardcover ISBN: 979-8-8229-3152-7
Paperback ISBN: 979-8-8229-3153-4
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Table of Contents
1: Cicur
2: Cicur
3: Cicur
4: Cicur
5: Vercus
6: Cicur
7: Cicur
8: Cicur
9: Cicur
10: Cicur
11: Vercus
12: Cicur
13: Soulcage
14: Cicur
15: Cicur
16: Cicur
17: Vercus
18: Cicur
19: Soulcage
20: Vercus
21: Vercus
22: Cicur
Vercus
23: Vercus
24: Cicur
Vercus
25: Cicur
26: Cicur
27: Cicur
1
Cicur
A
blinding flash of steel collided with the ground, cracking the stone beneath it. A yell of rage broke from the lips of Cicur’s general as he hopped back from the blow.
“You’re almost a rank-one soldier? Prove it to me!” Lucius roared.
Cicur knew Lucius’s father had come only a week prior, and ever since that visit, Lucius had been excruciatingly irritated with everything. Whatever his father had said to him influenced him greatly, his dead, golden eyes somehow dimmer and darker than usual.
Another blow was sent his way, and he used the soles of his feet to leap into the air. With a mighty swing, his blade flew down upon the other. The two men struggled for dominance. “You’re weak,” Lucius said. “Pathetic.”
Cicur couldn’t respond. He wouldn’t respond. If he did, it would end in bruising or blood.
Lucius shuffled to his left and slashed his blade at Cicur. It hit the black-rock band around his ankle. Both men froze and gasped as the band vibrated, then stood still. A great sigh left Cicur’s lips as he loosened his muscles. Thank God, he thought.
“You stupid, water-manipulating Daryan!”
“I’m sorry.”
“If you would’ve dodged, that wouldn’t have happened!” Lucius stomped over and grabbed his neck, forcing him to stare into his eyes. “You know what happens if our restriction anklets are broken, right?” Cicur opened and shut his mouth. “Answer me!”
“Yes sir!”
“What happens?” he growled.
“Our power becomes free to use. We become influenced by its magic. We destroy Kavadan.”
“Exactly. And so our little gifts don’t get out, we keep them on. So that leaves only one question.” Lucius dropped his grip on Cicur’s neck and leaned into his face. “Why didn’t you dodge?”
“I was being a fool, sir,” Cicur said, gandering elsewhere. “It’s my fault.”
“Indeed. Now, go patrol for the night,” Lucius replied, gripping the blade of Cicur’s sword and pushing it against his chest. “And don’t fail me.”
Lucius left the room.
A small black woman burst through the door with curly dark hair with bits of white strands flying in her face.
“Cicur!” She struggled to put her hair in a bun. “Where have you been?! I’ve been looking outside for you for fifteen minutes!”
Cicur heaved a sigh, glancing away from her for a moment. So much for peace and quiet.
“I was sparring with Lucius,” he said, moving his gaze to the wanted posters in the room. Those deadly pairs of eyes kept him from unwinding completely. A shiver went down his spine as he stared at them.
“Wow. You could really use a laugh right about now. You look like a ghost.”
“I don’t need one,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the faces of the wanted criminals. “Something’s on my mind.”
“Oh, that?” Although he couldn’t see her, he knew she was pointing a slim finger at the wanted posters. They both gazed at the faces of the most notorious outlaws in Kavadan.
One face frightened him the most on the priority list: Vercus Ambrose. Adiel abilities, homicide, thievery, arson…he had done it all. Terrible rumors were spread around Cicur’s headquarters and, undoubtedly, around the whole continent of Kavadan. A sketch of his face snarled at him: those green eyes, that mohawk, those lips curled into a taunting smile. Why would anyone from Idalia of Deidamia go throughout the expanse of Kavadan and trample on the peace of everyone with no remorse?
Alongside his poster, there was another parchment, depicting a different Adiel: Shape-shifter. A user of the dark arts that rivaled the governor’s magician. Little was known of this Adiel except for a cloak with peculiar markings. If it joined with Vercus, Kavadan would be doomed, destined to fall.
Beneath these papers was a single, old parchment. Its edges were torn, and parts of the words weren’t even legible. “The Immortal,” and “The Crimson Spirit,” were the only things Cicur could read. Born in Dhara, they were only discovered to be an Adiel during a civil battle in Emer hundreds of years ago. According to the stories, they had fatal wounds that would’ve killed anyone within seconds, but they wouldn’t perish. They refused. They got back up and continued to fight. Their eyes were gleaming with gold, even on the poster.
Sidero, their governor, had only ever mentioned bringing the Crimson Spirit in, as if the other two didn’t matter. She longed to acquire them and made it clear with her actions. Countless search parties and elongated patrol units would be gone for weeks. They were her priority, but Cicur’s priority was to capture all of them. It was what his brother would want as well, and he pressured himself into making sure he was always aware and always prepared.
I’ll fight for you. Regret and grief clouded the sound of soldiers passing by the room and swords clashing in practice. Only for you.
His eyes wandered down to the bracelet on his wrist. Maroon leather braids with many loose threads hung on his arm, threatening to fall off. To him, it was worth more than gold.
“So,” Aderyn spoke again, “think we’ll ever get a crack at Vercus? I mean, we’re all finally in rank two, and of course, you’re almost in rank one.” She mumbled the last part, yanking on one of her long curls that had slipped out of the bun.
“Yes,” Cicur answered, pushing himself forward and off the wall. “I hope we do.”
“Even if he doesn’t have one of these?” Aderyn gestured to her ankle, where a black-rock band rested, rubbing the skin raw on the edges.
Cicur glanced at hers, then at his, tightly wound around his ankle. The one that Lucius had almost sliced off. That was why both of them had lost their breath during training.
“I don’t know.” He sighed. Vercus had no restriction anklet, a magic-involved band that was required by the government and constructed by the governor’s magician. Everyone had one, for their own safety. It removed all usage of elemental abilities, preventing anyone or anything from using the natural magic in their bodies. Adiel would find a way to slip them off, hence Vercus being one of the strongest beings in Kavadan. After years of hiding and training, who knew how powerful he was? More than a thousand accounts were made of his murders. They all were killed with some sort of earth element that Ambrose possessed.
“It’s possible,” Cicur finished, closing his eyes.
“I mean, I’d be the one to bring him in, of course.” Aderyn’s usual cockiness returned with a smirk. “I’m too quick for my own good.”
There was nothing Cicur hated more than hearing her boast, knowing she was a kind woman. It wasn’t all a lie, though. In practice, Aderyn was the swiftest of all the soldiers. Perhaps it was her height, or the fact that she was from the tribe Zephyr of Emer, but Cicur believed that it was her determination.
“What do ya think? Could I bring Vercus in? Or could I bring Vercus in?!” she snickered.
“Maybe,” he said, looking at her again. Feeling as if he had to speak a lie, he took his gaze away from her. There was nothing he hated more than lying—especially since he had to so often.
“Aw, come on!” She flexed. “I could beat him.” Upon seeing Cicur’s unimpressed expression, she relaxed her muscles and rolled her eyes. “You could really lighten up.”
“There’s no time for that,” he noted. “We should be prepared at all times for anything.” He narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth, waiting for an unexpected incident.
“Nothing’s even going on!” Aderyn exclaimed, sauntering around the room in pure boredom. “We could get out of here for a while, get Douglas, and go have some fun! I think you need it.” She giggled. “You absolutely need it. You look like a dad with four kids!”
At least I look older than I am. “And?”
“You need what’s called a ‘break.’” Her small smile faded. “Especially with Lucius as your leader. That privileged—”
“Don’t.” Cicur cut her off, not wishing for her to say something negative toward him, lest she receive the punishment. No matter who spoke poo
“Already?”
“It’s near night.”
“See you later then,” she murmured.
Cicur moved his attention to the door, and at once, he left.
Yet again, a full moon hung in the sky. A clear night, bathed in uncertainty. On that moon, a promise was made. A promise that was always destined to be empty. It was his brother’s promise.
Moonlight illuminated the dirt-shrouded road as Cicur pried his eyes open, desperate to keep awake. Weariness beckoned him back to his base, his nightly patrol at last concluded. Two days had passed during which he solely patrolled in the night hours, and in the morning, he finished whatever was instructed of him. It wasn’t an easy job, but to him, it was worth it. He was a soldier who kept peace in his home, Kavadan. One who fought for the governor. One who would push aside fatigue and perform his best, no matter the effect. Hard work, a quick wit, and a slight lie had gotten him to his position. A lie that everyone put their faith in.
Once inside the looming and immense tower where he dwelled, his body pulled him to a secluded room away from the restlessness of the other guards’ toil. It was quiet there. Still. Rest could come to him. Even if it was only temporary.
As he leaned against the wall, his mind began to unwind, though he forbade it to unwind entirely. Despite his wish to sleep, he kept himself awake. All he could hope to do was keep himself distracted. To maneuver his mind from the idea of a soft bed, he took heed of the wanted posters that aligned the room. Those notorious Adiel faces preyed upon him, his stomach winding from their gaze.
All citizens of Kavadan had one elemental ability that was hereditary according to their native tribe. It was natural and bestowed upon them from birth. However, the Adiel were the rare occurrences, for these people were born with an ability foreign to their tribe, or even an ability that wasn’t known to mankind. They were unnatural, and because of this, Governor Sidero feared for her people’s safety, as Cicur was told. Whenever one was discovered, she would remove them from their home, and relocate them to her stronghold. Safe from the people they could bring harm to—whether it was purposely or accidentally. She always declared she would send them home if they could be cured of this unnatural “disease” (or so she would call it.) Yet no cure was found.
When these children weren’t returned home, the riots began. The families of the children tore the cities down and stripped the nobility’s households for all they were worth. Those riots ended shortly after Sidero took action against them. From what Cicur had heard, her actions were gruesome. Once she had the high ground again, she made one rule to all of Kavadan: Do not, under any circumstances, question her. That was all she said and all that anyone needed to know. Perhaps it was out of fear that the rioters listened, but who could blame them?
Out of habit, Cicur obeyed her every command, being utterly devoted to her, even though his mind would occasionally become skeptical of her motives. Regardless, he believed her to be a good woman. An exceptional leader, at that.
He shut his wandering mind down and moved his train of thought back to his work. However, he found his mind shifting yet again, but to his brother. A wondrous soldier whom he strived to be like.
Raysahi Sakeri was his name. They had been alike in many ways. He looked similar to Cicur; bright-blue eyes with dark-gray skin. They were descendants of humanoids. When Cicur was young, he only had his brother, and he looked up to him more than anyone else. Raysahi was Cicur’s only real friend, disregarding the massive age gap between the brothers. When he was killed, Cicur’s heart was shattered to pieces. Saying goodbye only happens once in a lifetime, and he never got to. No funeral was held, nor was Cicur allowed to see his brother’s grave. The only thing mentioned to him was that Raysahi was murdered by an outlawed Adiel. Grief gave him a reason. He swore he’d become a soldier, as Raysahi had been. Every challenge thrown at him since had merely been stepping stones for him. It had never been a secret that Cicur was much further ahead than everyone else, but even with all this strength, the missions would only become tougher. Tougher for certain.
A second later, the door flew open, shaking the interior of the room. An Idalian soldier stomped in. She held her head high even though her armor sagged low. Metal, shining by the lowly lit torch, caught Cicur’s eye as she came forward. There was always a flame engraved on Idalians’ chest plates, but he could hardly tell it was there due to the darkness.
“Chief Iaïros sent for you,” she said. Her stare burned Cicur’s eyes as they moved to them. “Our whole troop.” She took a step back, tarrying in the doorway, and glanced back with her eyes wide but fixed on the ground. “Vercus was tracked down in Rainmere.”
For a moment, they were all stuck. Cicur’s heart lunged into his throat, forbidding him to breathe. While they were talking about him, he had been found. One of the most atrocious beings in all of Kavadan had been found.
How marvelous. I actually have to go into that dastard city. Ray, don’t let me stab myself.
The two lingered outside Chief Iaïros’s office. Great wooden doors with a modest gold lining opened, beckoning them inside the room. A circular dark wooden table, surrounded by chairs, was the first notable thing. A massive map lay on top of it, its edges curled in as if it were sensitive to the candlelight. Windows the size of elder dragons revealed the night sky and kept the wind locked up outside. Soldiers lined the wall, staffs in their hands. Another squadron was already there; nine soldiers stood around their leader.
Aderyn stood beside their leader, Lucius Haedon. His long blond hair was tied into a braid, and he stood broad shouldered, glaring at everyone. Cicur went inside to avoid making him wait. The Idalian soldier was close behind him. He took his place beside Lucius, though he was a bit behind him.
“Evening, Sakeri,” Lucius said.
Cicur didn’t respond. Lucius had hated him since the day he started working, something Cicur couldn’t find a reason for.
A tall figure had his golden eyes resting on Cicur as Lucius took a seat in front of him. Dark-brown hair cut short in the back but kept longer in the front brushed a shadow over his face. A sharp jawline contributed to his overall features. Pale-white skin covered him, but his coat, decorated in metals and gold, drew more attention. He adjusted his rounded glasses.
Cicur remained behind Lucius along with the other lesser soldiers, as he always would. Chief Iaïros wore a small smile and sat down, being at eye level with the advanced soldiers. Like a hawk watching for prey, Iaïros glanced over every face in the room before opening his mouth to speak.
“Soldiers.” His crisp voice came out, ending the silence. “I’m sure you all know why you’re in so late. Vercus has been located, and I’m sending you out at once.” Iaïros stood, clutching what looked like a chess piece with an arrow symbol. He placed it gently on the southeast side of Rainmere.
“Soldiers from Adir take the southeast. Search all buildings, but lay low.” Adir was Cicur’s home sector, he being from the water tribe known as Darya. The other two tribes that made Adir were the Storm Tribe of Raijin and the Ice Tribe of Neve. “Soldiers from Emer, head for the less fortunate homes in the northwest.” Iaïros placed a fox head trinket directly on the location. (Emer was made up of the Nature Tribe of Dhara, the Light Tribe of Neiryn, and the Wind Tribe of Zephyr.) Judging by the Emerians’ narrowed eyes and slow breaths, Cicur would say they were relieved more than anything. Taking on the less crowded areas would make it easier for their groups to rely on each other’s strength instead of fighting on their own. “Deidamia’s sector, take the homes of the rich—the noble homes.” The chief placed a marker with a shield on the map. (Deidamia was made up of the Fire Tribe of Idalia, the Shadow Tribe of Zylah, and the Sound Tribe of Ariea.)
“It may not be probable, but with all he has stolen, he could be there.” A small smirk came up on Iaïros’s face upon seeing the disappointed Deidamians. When a Deidamian was assigned to a task, they would receive reports back about property damage or even unnecessary death.
“I am removing your restriction anklets on Sidero’s command. All elemental power may be used.”
Everyone in the room seemed to light up with excitement, especially Aderyn. Apart from them, Cicur couldn’t find relief in what he was told. Even with elemental magic, no one had ever received training in their elements. For all they knew, they could destroy Rainmere by accident or hardly conjure enough power to defend themselves.
