Warriors of Epicene and Unity: Resurfacing: Divine Union, #2

By Frank Mitchell

Xen Kai, an immortal warrior that shifts at the high moon of each new day along with Elara Solana, an eternal warrior that changes with flow of day, are thankful but eager to leave the dwarven city miles under the surface. With a map and a special note to Elara's old dwarven companion, they set out into the tunnels and head toward the surface. While they meet plenty of issue along their way, they finally get to the surface and reach Kalinda where Elara must face their old friends. Unsure how they will react to seeing the warrior against after a full century, Elara relies on Xen for support and encouragement.

Jett and Rekker are forced to travel down to the catacombs below Thale. Many stories Rekker had heard but none that would truly live up to the surprise when he learns that the Thief's guild's master, grew up in the catacombs. Their lives take a drastic turn when the inhabitants of the catacombs give them a less than friendly welcome. Forcing them both to make decisions that will change their lives forever.

Tamashi, the awakened warrior from the island of Ushinatta, follows the pull from his sword and is surprised when he meets the holder who is Elara. The two acquaintances reconnect and Elara sends Tamashi to find Xen, leaving Elara to speak with their old friends.

Prazan, king of Terbesar and soon to be the self proclaimed emperor of the country, bides his time as he collects new warriors to join his expanding army. Killing hundreds in his wake.

Keji, Prazan's right hand alchemist and enchanter, assists in the gathering of bodies so that he may reap their souls and put them into the gateway so that the daemon empress can emerge. All the while maintaining his love and affection for his king secretly.

Celia, princess of Thale, argues with her father over ruling the palace. While her father demands that she obey his rule and marry a man who will sit on the throne. She demands to rule it on her own. When she realizes that she will get no say, Celia decides to leave a servant in her place and runs away. Only to be swept up in chaos that leads her to Elara and Xen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frank Mitchell
• Release date: Jan 27, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224273485

Book preview

Chapter One

Xen and Elara awoke at the sound of the fifth bell. On the hour of every hour, a bell near the top of the cavern was rung. The deep resonant tone of the bell reminded the people in the city that they were safe. That there was someone watching over their lives. Safeguarding them and future generations to come. Having slept in a bed, granted it was a slightly small bed but better than the stone floors they had been sleeping on in the tunnels, they awoke feeling rested. Elara looked at Xen and for the first time, really took them in. Elara had not known that their friend, like them self, was an immortal. Elara had been executed on a number of occasions. They could count three different times where their head had been severed. Each time it had grown back. Nothing, not even having their heart ripped out had kept the hunter dead for more than a few hours. The longest death that Elara had ever experienced was at the hands of Xen. Who, using a mystifying technique of magic, had severed them into a dozen pieces.

'What else don't I know about you?' Elara wondered, looking at their friend as they changed from night gown to armor once more.

Xen? Elara asked.

The androgynous warrior, ever shifting in and out of racial forms, paused and looked back at Elara.

Yes? What is it?

Why? Did you not tell me?

Xen considered the question for a long moment. Pondering the reason as if they did not know either. Then, Xen smiled.

Tell me. How often do people ask about you?

Elara arched an eyebrow, wondering if this was some sort of decisive maneuver to get out of answering the question.

Not often I suppose. Elara replied. More often are they more concerned with telling me about who they are. They shrugged. I've just come to accept it as the self-centered egotism of humanity. No one really seems to- Elara stopped and then understood. Xen hadn't been withholding the truth. Xen had not been given the opportunity to tell anything about themselves. 'No that wasn't right' Elara realized. Xen hadn't taken the opportunity to talk about them self. They had been giving Elara all the room they needed, all the time they required to openly speak about them self. Which was all Elara had done. Talk about their life. Talk about their experiences and journey. Never once asking about Xen's. Suddenly feeling like the world's biggest hypocrite, Elara blushed.

Will you tell me? Elara asked.

I’d be happy to. But perhaps not now. They glanced over their shoulder just as the curtain that cut off the room swung to the side. A muscled dwarf walked in wearing an armored vest and boots, walked in. He cleared his throat as if to interrupt their conversation as politely as possible.

Aboot time ye got up. Tha king be waiting on ye. He said in a booming voice. The commander of the dwarves army had long ago lost his ability to control the volume of his voice. He either used his commanding voice or his battle voice.

On us? Already? Elara asked.

Aye! tha feast was set ta begin half past fourth bell.

Elara and Xen jumped into their standard apparel but then were stopped. As the dwarf tossed a pair of clothes at them.

Here, these were something tha tailors made while ye were passed out. Might be a snug fit but it will be more appropriate than those rags.

Elara and Xen didn't take offense to the comment. Their robes had taken a beating and their clothes had not seen a decent wash in a week.

Get your asses ta tha king's hall or ye'll be spending tha day with me recruits hauling pig shit.

Yes sir. Xen replied hastily.

Right away sir. Elara added.

The dwarf replied with a firm 'hmph' and walked off. Leaving them to get dressed in what meager privacy they had been given within the Dwarven barracks.

REKKER, A LARGE BULKY man with as much muscle as he had brains, was the second hand of the guild. Not nearly as outright threatening as the guild master, Rekker was threatening in a destructive sort of manner. The six-foot-tall man, bald as a scrying crystal, displayed the number of lives he had taken upon his head in the form of inked markings. More than half his head was tattooed, and anyone knew him just by the sight of his glossy hairless head. The halfling, Seft hannen, known for his unusually soft and skillful hands, could reach into just about any pocket and come out with valuables. He was, without a doubt, the most successful guild member under the master. What he lacked in size and communication, he made up for with his skill of thievery. Everyone moved out of the way of Rekker as he made his way down the street. Seft, close on his heels. As they arrived at the burnt down shack, the smell of flesh was still strong. The walls had collapsed inward telling the bulky methodical man that the fire had started inside, not beyond the walls. The floor was the darker and more ashen than the dilapidated walls. 'The fire started with the bodies?' He wondered, inspecting the scene further. Nothing but ash was left of the corpses. Not even the bone. He knew of only a couple kinds of fire that could do such devastating damage. Mage craft and the fire of a red dragon. He turned and looked out to the slums. His eyes searched the streets and at a glance, he found what he looked for. Seft hurried along as the large man moved across the street, up a set of stairs and down a short hall. As was his name’s sake, Rekker led with destruction. The doors of the slums were not heavy or thick wood. Most were more for show than to actually keep anyone out. Nevertheless, he never turned down the opportunity to leave wreckage in his wake. With a heavy kick, the wooden door flew from its hinges and sailed across the room where it planted into the hollow wall. Several robed figures scurried to the far corner, shaking nervously. Even in their heavy tunics and robes, it was clear to see that they had wasted away. Three people were slumped in one corner, drool hung from their parted lips, eyes half lidded. A couple more lay on the floor, flies flitted from the open eyes and mouths. Their dead bodies had already started to decompose in the humid hot air of the spring heat. It was an opioid orgy. A place where people gathered to huff, sniff, smoke and ingest the drug. It wasn't uncommon for addict driven orgies to last days on end, some going well into a week. He turned to the three figures huddled in the corner. They shook hard. Their bodies suffering from the withdrawals of the drug.

What did you see? Rekker asked, his voice hard as rock.

Did you s-see anyone? Seft asked, holding up a silver coin. In th-that house th-there?

The addicts looked from the house to the coin and back to the house.

A...man. one said slowly.

What man? Rekker asked harshly.

Black armor. Gold stringed...bow.

What else? Seft asked, waving the coin.

A blade...it burned. It burned! He gasped.

Seft flicked the silver coin and watched the three figures fight over it. Each eager to return to their drug induced euphoria. Seft chuckled and watched. Not Rekker. He was lost in thought, staring at the shack.

JETT DIGESTED THE INFORMATION slowly. Like a monk tasting his food with deliberate intent. Focused on the flavors of the flavorless gruel that they ate.

'A man in black armor,' he let the subtle description settle in his mind, forming a nondescript preconceived notion of what the man might look like. If it was a man at all. Jett did not divide the sexes. Unlike his predecessor who thought men were the upper echelon. That school of thought had landed him where he was now. In the grave. Jett did not have such luxuries or thoughts. He did not differentiate male from female. Man from woman. Boy from girl. He saw able-bodied and willing from incapable and not able-bodied. Jett had seen women complete feats that most men would be hard pressed to do. Truth was, he didn't care about the sexes. He cared about upholding his guild and expanding his reach. If that meant using a woman rather than a man, he wouldn't think twice. Which was why he didn't narrow it down to looking for just a man in black armor. A woman could kill just as decisively. He steepled his gloved fingers and looked at Rekker.

Be on the lookout for a moderately sized man of my height and stature. Could be a woman too. Spread the word and offer up five gold pieces to the one who finds this black armored assailant.

Right away. Rekker replied.

Jett was determined to find this person, both because he couldn't have someone killing his guild members and because he wanted to meet this killer. A person who could kill ten members of his guild, burn the bodies to ash and the shack, without so much as leaving a trace of their identity. That was a skilled person. One who he would either have to integrate into the guild, or be killed. His cloudy green eyes looked over the city map carefully. Tracing the outlined streets, alleys and buildings with his gaze. 'Where are you?'

TAMASHI FOUND HIMSELF trapped in another dead-end alley. The city streets were like a maze. Without a map, he could not find a clear way out of the city. The main streets were filled with people. Too many bustling citizens who kept pushing past him to get to wherever it was they were hurrying off to. He sighed and followed the alley back to where he had come. If it had not been for the enchantment of his armor, he would have been swimming in his own sweat. The humidity of the region, so close to the ocean, kept the temperature warm and the air muggy. Living on an island for his whole life, the warrior was used to this. The condensed heat of the additional people though was something he could not find himself used to. Tamashi turned down another street and followed it until he reached a door. The plain door was basic. Hardwood. Thick metal bands and iron fittings. His only misunderstanding was why a door was at the end of an alley. Feeling the pull of his sword, he turned away and walked back down a different street.

What monstrosity of mazes is this city? So confounding is this place. He said to himself. Packed with people, it is a cacophony of chaos. He huffed and sat down on a bench to rethink his plan.

THE FEAST WAS A MAGNIFICENT thing. Roasted pork. Spit fired eel. Vegetables and underground delicious delicacies that they had never tried before, filled their bellies. The King, sitting at the head of the table, along with thirty other dwarves along the length, each a head of their clan, joked and drank. Barrel upon barrel of ale was brought out and drained nearly as fast as it had been brought. Xen and Elara drank lightly though. After the table had been cleared and the ale of six barrels downed, the jovial festivities of the feast slowed. Though a few clan leaders continued to beat on one another in a game of who could last the longest, ensued. Xen and Elara watched with amusement while King Aedelsten shook his head with a laugh. Having had two or three cups more than he should have, the King's more emotional side had shifted to the forefront.

I do hope ye can forgive me. Had I known that tha two o' ye were merely lost. I wou''ve sent ye out with a map. He hiccupped tasting a slight resurgence of ale which was not settling over the pork.

Me people have suffered long an' I do what I must ta keep tha peace an' make it last. But a king must know when he has made error. He bowed his head to them both and they returned the gesture.

While neither of us know the responsibilities of that which rests on your shoulders, we know what it is like to want peace. Elara said.

King Aedelsten nodded in appreciation for their kind words.

Tell me o' me brother. What fate has befallen him. What does he do these days?

Honestly I wish I could. Elara said. Many decades have passed since I last saw him. In truth we were heading to see him.

Truly? That be splendid news. I wou' very much enjoy ta see me brother again with me own two eyes. 'afore ye go. Might ye grant me a favor?

Elara looked to Xen who shrugged, seeing no harm in the deed. The king snapped his fingers and a guard rushed to his side and then hurried off to the palace.

What aboot yourselves. What has got ye interested in me brother?

Elara and Xen shared a grim expression.

On the surface. A king to the west has taken over two kingdoms by force and is spreading to the east. Elara explained.

He is a tyrant. Enslaving. Abusing. Murdering and t-torturing. Xen said, grief in their voice.

King Aedelsten shook his head in distress.

No one. Not man, dwarf nor elf, deserves to be enslaved. He turned to the table and raised a cup. Death to oppression! He shouted.

Down with the tyranny! The others echoed. And up with the king! They slammed their ale mugs and cheered.

The guard returned with a small thick envelope which had been sealed with a metal cord. He looked at it for a long while and then handed it to Elara who took it.

I know ye owe me nae favors but, I wou' be eternally grateful if ye'd take this ta him.

We will see that it reaches his hands. Xen replied.

King Aedelsten nodded and settled back to contemplate his next thoughts which were muddied from the large mugs of ale he had downed. Long had been his life and much of it he still had to think on.

Chapter Two

Three more days they stayed within the confines of the Dwarven city. Tours of the monuments and halls they were given. Statues and obelisks that were carved in every corner of the city had been etched in more detail than some living beings had. With their weapons returned, freshly cleaned garments given, along with two sacks of food, the companions were seen off to the gates. Belhurn and a handful of the clan leaders stood with them as the gates were opened. The old dwarf hobbled forward and handed two medallions to Xen.

One for tha both o' ye. Friends ye have made in tha city o' magnesite. Shou' ye ever need aid or if ye find yourself in tha depths. Call on us. He smiled.

Likewise. Should the city need the aid of a couple immortals. Just send word. Elara replied.

The dwarf hobbled back to the city and the gates closed once more. Xen unfolded the map and looked at the parchment. The mapped-out depths were a system of winding tunnels that went on in nearly every direction. Each tunnel was a full week's hike. In green ink, a line was drawn through the tunnels leading up to a well-used surface port where trades happened once a year. They started forward and Xen paused some distance away from the gates.

You, okay? Elara asked.

Back in the barracks. You said there was something you wanted to tell me. Something you said you should've told me for a while. What was it?

Elara blushed and opened their mouth to speak. Then thought better of it. Instead, they leaned forward, pulling Xen in close and kissed them. It was a soft thing. But the passion behind it caused a spark of emotion. As Elara pulled back, Xen followed for a heartbeat. For the very first time, Xen was left breathless.

IT HAD TAKEN THE BETTER part of two days to find the black armored warrior. In a city packed with over a hundred thousand, finding one person was not an easy thing. However, for the master of the thieves guild, whose Influence stretched into the pockets of many, one person could not go unseen for long. Not with a thousand eyes looking. With the gold of a month's wages resting on the finding of them, all eyes were open and searching, both day and night. Jett stood at the top of his tower. His robes flowed in the breeze pushing the thick fabric back. Metal glinted in the light of day along his sides. From the roof he could see almost all the slums in the city. The high rises to the west. The lower parts to the south and then there were the catacombs to the north. A city hidden within a city. It was there that the darkest parts of the kingdom resided. The catacombs stretched on for miles through the city. Some passages leading even beyond the kingdom of Vanisa. While the thieves guild and the assassins guild ruled the top streets. A different guild ruled the bottom. One that even the master of the thieves guild was wary about. Jett drew in a deep breath and held it. He could smell the salty spray of the ocean. The shit and piss in the streets. The blood that ran warm along the cracks of the cobblestone where another assassination had been carried out. He heard the footsteps long before the rooftop door opened. Rekker stepped onto the roof and then paused. The big man feared little. He feared but respected the guild master. He feared the things in the catacombs, and he feared heights. Stepping lightly onto the roof top he stayed within reach of the building.

Sir. They found him.

Where?

By the southern slums. He has taken in with a family there.

I see. Jett replied and then paused, weighing his options. The warrior had proven himself to be dangerous and deadly. But this was his city. His streets. He owned them and by extension, he owned everyone in them. 

Bring him to me. Alive.

Rekker nodded and quickly left the roof. 

TRULY. I CANNOT THANK you enough for your kindness. Tamashi smiled.

Don't be foolish. The old man replied, shoving a bowl of watered-down carrot stew in his face. You looked more lost than a lamb separated from the flock.

Don't be mean. His wife replied. You’re just a little green. She smiled; her plump cheeks red from working all day in the sun. Now eat up. A young man like yourself needs to stay full.

In truth Tamashi did not need to eat or drink to survive. His body never aged. His insides never quaked for food or water. Remaining as he had been when he was raised to his station at the age of twenty-one. The same age as the couple's adopted daughter. Though she looked much older. Having spent all her time in the fields farming and tending to livestock.

Tell me, son. The man said. What does a man like yourself come to a shit-stained city like this for?

Pa! The younger woman said.

The man paid his daughter no mind. Intently focused on the warrior's response.

I am here to recover my sword. He said, accent think and foreign to their ears.

A sword? The daughter asked. Intrigued by the prospect and by his foreign origins.

It was taken from me, and I desire it returned to my side.

Ah. A man on a mission. So, all that isn't for show I'm guessin'? He glanced at the armor which now sat on the wooden chair in the corner.

No. It is not for show. It is a part of me and I of it. Tamashi replied cryptically.

And what-

That is enough of that. The wife interjected. Leave the young man to his privacy. Let him eat. By the time you are done interrogating him the stew will be cold.

He grumbled under his breath and went to spooning his own stew. The daughter stole glances at the man from over her bowl, lingering on his foreign appearance and physique. While he did not have the raw musculature that most farm hands did from working long hours in the fields. He possessed a lean physique with corded muscles that retained a hidden strength just beneath the