Guest Post by Tracy Falbe: Dacian, the future King of the rys

I’m pleased that The Vaetra Files is a stop on Tracy Falbe’s Feel Real Fantasy Blog Tour, which celebrates the completion of her Rys Rising series. I read and enjoyed the first book of her series, so I jumped at the chance to host her character spotlight on Dacian, the lead character of Rys Rising: Book I. Be sure to enter Tracy’s drawing for a $25 Etsy gift card after you enjoy her post.

I met Tracy Falbe through the Magic Appreciation Tour and have been impressed by her commitment to her work, her professionalism, and her smart marketing. She pens a great story that is sure to please readers of magical fantasy. And she sure makes it easy for you to give her work a try: her first book in the Rys Rising series is free.

I hope you enjoy Tracy’s introduction to Dacian, the future King of the rys.

The epic opens when Dacian is about 180 years old, which is still young for a rys. He lives in Jingten, a far flung colony in a secluded mountain valley where the magical tabre have bred a new race, the rys. Dacian is very powerful but his tabre teachers have kept his education limited. Although the tabre created the rys, they revile and fear them and keep them oppressed. Despite his low status, Dacian hopes to go to an elite tabre school and prove the quality of his race. He is devoted to peacefully raising the status of his kind and obediently works within the ruling tabre order.

When the day finally comes when his hope for a higher magical education is crushed, he submits to imprisonment still hoping to convince the tabre to accept his talent and eventually all the rys. Dacian endures prolonged tortures until finally he must break with his idealism and embrace violent war to free the rys.

Author’s feelings about the character

Dacian was a heartbreaking character to write. He was inspired by my contemplations about all the talent that has been wasted in the world, misdirected by destructive wars or prejudice or greed. He is a tragic figure. He starts out with the good intentions of someone like Martin Luther King Jr. but his efforts degrade into a monstrosity worthy of Pol Pot before Dacian can see where he has gone wrong.

From Rys Rising: Book I

“No, Dacian. You may not return to Jingten,” the Grand Lumin said. Power was building around him as his lifeforce summoned his magic, and white light brightened his blind eyes. “We sentence you to stay here and serve us. You have not only grown insolent but you have grown brash. Working in the Altular as a servant will teach you humility and obedience.”

“A servant?” Dacian whispered. He harbored no personal dislike for those who served. He respected them as valuable beings, but he was more than they were. That was only a fact.

“Do not question me. You were brought here to be punished and punished you shall be,” the Grand Lumin said. “Only a moment ago you begged to hear your penance, so go now to your room and await duties to be assigned to you. Trouble me no more, Dacian of Jingten!”

Dacian was dumbfounded by the dismissal. Since maturity he had pursued the goal of joining the Nebakarz. It had been held out before him and Halor had encouraged him. Even when he took into account his bad behavior, this harsh rejection did not make sense. Deep inside, Dacian started to admit that he had miscalculated the prejudice the tabre bore toward the rys, but then he quashed the thought. It was too painful to confront the fact that the tabre were not going to embrace him as an equal no matter what he did.

A servant? This stinging thought rang inside his head like wind chimes in a bad storm. Accepting this sentence would not serve his goal of proving the quality of rys. It would only exacerbate the situation if he performed menial tasks in the very heartland of Nufal.

Recovering slightly from his shock, Dacian persisted, “Great Grand Lumin, I ask that I be allowed to return home. You have made it clear you don’t want me. I would go home.” He spoke firmly at the end, and, as he said the words, defiance built in him. He was reminded of the emotions that had flared when he defended Onja, and he was afraid of what he might do.

“You will serve us in the Altular,” the Grand Lumin said. “Do not think to defy us and do not think that you will go home!” White light blazed in his eyes and the Grand Lumin tilted his head back as he concentrated mightily on his magic. The air around Dacian erupted with magical fire and terrified him with its immediate intensity.

For the first time in his life, Dacian knew mortal fear. Burning magic, irresistibly strong, tore into his chest and he felt his heart gripped by the will of the Grand Lumin. The contracting chambers pulled the scalding power of the tabre deeper into his blood. Fine needles like the hairs of mold penetrated his heart with stunning pain. Dacian had never imagined that another being could assault him so intimately and thoroughly.

A wrenching scream erupted from Dacian’s throat. The Grand Lumin sagged a little after his exertion and his magic receded to a fluttering glow over his face.

Dacian collapsed forward and caught himself with his hands on the floor. His vision was blurring and he gasped for breath. Leaning back onto his knees, he fumbled with his clothes. His chest felt heavy and…wrong.

He opened his shirt and stared at his blue skin. Over his sternum an oval plate of milky white crystal was embedded in his flesh. In dismay he cried out. He had never heard or read of such a thing nor conceived of such a spell.

The Grand Lumin said, “As you see, there is much that you do not know, Dacian. You may have the power to thrust your mind into my inner sanctum like a hungry bandit, but you know nothing.”

“What have you done to me?” Dacian demanded. He trembled now from fear and many other ugly feelings that were foreign invaders to his heart.

“That is a crosha. It will keep you in Kwellstan. It is linked to your body and to the land and waters here. The farther you go from the Altular, the more energy the enchantment will draw out of your body. If you go far enough, it will kill you,” the Grand Lumin explained with blatant amusement. It was nice to see his uppity rys so well tethered and it had been exhilarating to cast such an obscure spell. It was worth the year it took off his life to thrust such an intricate enchantment upon a living soul.

From Savage Storm: Rys Rising Book II

A breathless quiet overtook the crowd as all eyes watched the tower. Because Dacian had long ago unraveled the complex wardings of the tower, he could see the panicking priests within it, dithering about what to do. Stand and fight? Flee?

Dacian left them to their unpleasant debate and returned his attention to the prisoners. Only about a dozen living tabre remained. He ordered them lined up against the warehouse where the Tatatook perched. He intended to dispatch them quickly and move onto the tower.

“Dacian!”

Unlike all the voices that were gleefully chanting his name, this voice whipped Dacian around. Illyr had called out sharply to her son, and he turned to see his parents emerging at the front of the mob.

“Dacian, stop this…this butchery!” Illyr shouted with terrible disappointment.

Grim with anger, Glaxon was at her side, and magic lighted his eyes in a way that Dacian had never seen before.

“Cease your cruelty, my son,” Glaxon said with a deceptively calm voice.

The arrival of his parents pulled Dacian’s conscience from its cold well that floated with bodies. He shuddered with sudden guilt, but he stomped at it like a housekeeper startled by a mouse.

“I’m not the one who is cruel,” Dacian said. His parents moved closer together.

“Stop killing them, my son,” Glaxon said. “Let them go.”

Incensed again, Dacian charged his father. Illyr stepped out of the way, but Glaxon did not flinch. He stood toe-to-toe with Dacian and regarded him with cold paternal confidence.

“How can you ask for mercy for them?” Dacian demanded. “They hate us.”

“Let them go, my son. You are too great to be so cruel,” Glaxon said.

“It must be done!” Dacian shouted. Without looking at his victims, he cast a spell at them. His power raged wildly and the tabre were blasted through the stone wall, which then started to crumble.