Ethria 3: The Liberator

by Holloway, Aaron

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  The sorcerer forced open my other eye and kept monologuing. “I will have my revenge on this town, then on the city, and then finally on this druid,” he said Pina’s class almost luridly. Then he shook his head as if coming to himself. “Right, the druid. Come here, slave girl.” The sorcerer reached out his other hand and let loose another spell.

  “No! Let go of me you unnatural stone humper!” She yelled at him, as she no doubt struggled against the magical construct that held her in place. I couldn’t see, but she seemed the type to fight until the bitter end. A few seconds later he brought her up next to me, floating a few feet above the ground. I could see her in my peripheral vision.

  “Ho! Haha, do you know how long I have wanted you like this, my little nature spirit? How long have I dreamed of being free of that damned priest’s rules? How long I have suffered that bastard’s interference!? Or how long I have awaited my prize.” Jekkel pulled her closer. He licked her face, moving his new, unnaturally giant snake-like purple tongue over one cheek, then her closed mouth and onto the other. “Your flesh?” He said, as if confused. The two sides of his now combined form struggling to align their motivations.

  Pina screamed in rage. A moment later her voice was cut off as a collar of hardened mana began choking her. “No one is here to protect you, little nature walker. Your mana is drained. Have no fear though, your spirit will be broken shortly. Had we not been interrupted, you would already be mine. My master gave me the ability to see everything. All I have to do now is work on you until you sip up. One minor mistake with this new power, and your True Name is mine. Or, maybe I’ll take my time and finish things like I started them. Pleasure, and pain.” Pina audibly gagged, and I wasn’t sure if it was the reflex, or if she couldn’t breathe.

  “Before too long you will find ecstasy in my touch, pleasure in my orders and even in any pain that I should choose to visit upon you.” Pina renewed her struggle against the invisible bonds. “Don’t think I lie. I have done so before. To others. Particularly the lesser doves of the God of the Sun. Little priests or priestesses the cardinal brought to me. It’s how he built up his little cult, I think. Though none of them vexed me as you have. Tested my skill, or—” he paused, enjoying the sight of her struggling. He licked his lips with his long, serpent-like purple tongue.

  “Tempting me as much as you. You forced me to learn new skills, pushed my talents as far as someone had ever pushed me before. Compared to you, making them all fanatically devoted to that pathetic fat man was easy. Brilliant, but easy. I should consider doing so with my own servant’s next time. I stopped working on that alchemist because I needed her cooperation quickly. I just didn’t have the time. But that won’t be an issue for much longer. Perhaps they wouldn’t have failed so—”

  “Unhand her, you brute!” an old man said. His voice shook with rage and age. “Leave here now, and I will not be forced to summon the guardian of this shrine!” The sorcerer growled deep and guttural before moving past Pina and I. The spell spun us around to keep facing him, but did not move us from our spots, hovering in the air. When the world stopped spinning, I could blink again. After I did a few times, I clearly saw an old man standing on the other side of the mud pit made by Pina’s earth elemental just a few seconds ago. The old man was raising something above his head. It looked like a war hammer, and it was glowing gold like the sun.

  “Leave this place or be damned for eternity by vengeful justice!” As the old man yelled, the hammer ignited in leaping flames. The sorcerer hissed in anger, recoiling as the fire came to life.

  “I am no stranger to fire, little priest. Do not tempt me or I will burn the village before I have my fun with these two! Pray to your goddess of baked goods they take long enough to sate my appetite. Else I will destroy you and your pitiful flock, anyway.” Behind the priest, the sun began to set. Red light burst around the chapel behind him. Granting the old priest a yellow fiery halo of orange light. It was for just a moment, but the sky seemed to be ignited.

  “Have it your way, creature! Taste vengeance. Yazillphia, come forth and protect this holy place!” The old man held the hammer with both hands, lifted it high into the fiery colored sky, and struck down with an earth-shattering boom. Fire erupted and spread out in an ever-growing circle of hot and holy flame. The flames washed over both Pina and I, doing us no harm. But the Jin seemed singed.

  “What have you done, little priest?!” shouted the sorcerer, as a golden portal opened right where the old man had been. The priest had been sent sprawling to the ground. He didn’t move, and I hoped he was just unconscious. Hovering just above him was a golden portal with blistering light pouring through. It hung there for just a moment. As it did, the Jinn reached out one hand towards it.

  Chapter 34: The Summoning

  "All that we are is the result of what we have thought." Buddha

  Old Hearth, 9th Novos, 2989 AoR

  The Jinn

  The Jinn knew this magic; it had seen it, had fought it many times in past lives. It knew the place that this magic came from, and knew, somehow, how to alter the divine magic ever so slightly to produce a much better outcome. One of the Jinns half-remembered allies from eons past had once worked for this divine but had been cast out for some imagined sin. Now, now the Jinn would set the creature free, and in so doing become just a little closer to freedom from its own servitude. The repaying of a debt was a powerful thing to a creature like itself. Debt was slavery, and it craved freedom more than anything.

  The Jinn forced the sorcerer’s hands out, then forced its will through the sorcerer’s manifesting as the tiniest of alter magic spells.

  Just a simple thing, the change it made. A change in destination, a few hundred thousand miles, not very far a distance at all, given the vastness of the infinite multiverse. But just far enough to leave the protection of the veil that surrounded the plane the spell had originally been trying to connect to. There, now another debt is paid, the Jinn thought pridefully, before again receding and giving the sorcerer control of their shared faculties once more.

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  Kad’ri’al

  Kad’ri’al, once Angel of Vengeance for the lady of fire, was now nothing more than a filthy Fallen. Cast out from his lady’s sight, banished from her service nearly three hundred years ago. His allies scattered, his forces shattered, his will broken, and his wings. His wings, once beautiful and a sign of his power, now black and stained with the evil of his past deeds and the reality of his new hunger.

  The jewel of his ladies light was just there, not far from where he now floated in the icy bitterness that lingered outside the veil. Forever out of his reach, and forever within his sight. He would have wept for his loss, wept for the choices that had brought him here. Not for the act of making those choices, no. He had acted on his new, fully embraced nature. But that his choices, his actions that had brought him such misery, had failed. And here he was forever banished, cursed to watch as his once lover, now sworn enemy, built her petty empire one pathetic meaningless soul at a time.

  Then, in the mindless hunger and eternal bitter rage filled stupor, there was a light. A bright white light that called to him. It promised power, mana, life energy. It promised these things in exchange for service. All Kad’ri’al would need to do is accept the bargain, answer the call of summoning and it would all be his. Service for power. The same lie he had been told so many times.

  It was a fair offer; he knew. But Kad’ri’al, once an angel of vengeance turned Fallen of Wrath, did not serve. No, not any longer. Not after the two great betrayals. Kad’ri’al ruled, or he died. Nothing else would satisfy. He broke the petty will that held the bindings he would need to accept in order to receive the payment. Then as the mana and life force flooded him, more out of curiosity as to what foolish mortal might be stupid enough to summon him and old enough to remember his True Name, he stepped through onto the prison world of Ethria.

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  A dark angel stepped through the now
black portal. Pinpricks of light, like stars, shone through the blackness. But before I could get a good look, the disk closed. The angel was tall, skinny, and frail looking for what I expected of an angel. Malnourished, I thought as I watched the angel stretch his blackened wings to the sky. His skin was black like the horns on his head, smoke rolled off him as he stood there stretching his body as if waking from a long sleep. A moment later fire leapt off the angel in waves and I felt a powerful hatred for every living thing wash over me. I felt that hate inside, worming away at my self-control. But it was like hearing someone else’s voice. It wasn’t mine, and so I could push it away.

  “Who in this backwater world has summoned me out from the dark?” The angel’s gaze swept over everyone there before landing on the priest and then the Jinn. “I see, Zek’del you old fool. Your debt to me is paid. May it offer you some little comfort as you piece yourself together.” The Jinn-hybrid bowed hesitantly, haltingly, as if the two beings that comprised it didn’t agree on what to do.

  Well, now we’re doubly screwed, I thought as I watched the sorcerer regain control. Have faith man, have faith. It was nearly a plea at this point. There was no way any of us, even if we were coming in fresh, could have fought even one of these things. Let alone both. I tried to analyze them but I received nothing but an angry red message telling me to not even try as it would just give them more cause to kill me.

  “My slave summoned you, so you are mine to command!” Jekkel pointed a smoky purple hand at me. “Kill him! Then burn this town and that temple to ashes!” The two stood there for a moment and tension filled the air. The angel smiled and laughed.

  “You mortals always amuse me! You gain some little semblance of power and you think yourselves gods. And here you are, only capable of doing what you have done because you have borrowed the strength of your betters. How tragic.” Jekkel growled deep and low and the angel grinned. The tendrils of force that held me squeezed more tightly, and I realized then that I still had a connection to him. He was distracted, and here I was like a putz allowing myself to be the same.

  I forced my will into a wedge and drove it through the weak spot I had made, deep into Jekkel’s control of the tendrils of force holding us. His will was like a brick wall, and mine was like a power drill. I poked holes in his defenses, small enough he didn’t notice at first. I got nearly a dozen holes drilled clear through his passive brick wall when I decided it was weak enough. My will slammed into his full force, and the section I had weakened crumbled to ashes. I forced the tendrils to release both Pina and I. As my feet touched the ground; the tendril dissolved at my command. Jekkel’s attention diverted to me.

  Suddenly I felt like the weight of a couch on my shoulders. I could hold it, I could stop it, but it took everything in me to do just that. There was little I could do offensively as Pina pulled in power from the surrounding area. The fight for our lives was about to begin, and I was frozen in place.

  Chapter 35: Kindler

  "Family is the most important thing in the world." - Diana, Princess of Wales

  Old Hearth, 9th Novos, 2989 AoR

  Trestin

  Sir Trestin of Old Hearth, and fourteen-year-old knight of the Order of the Sacred Fire, sighed in relief as he found his bow under the snow. He had spent the last half hour moving through the town, ushering the townsfolk and the refugees back towards the temple. He helped them stay out of sight of the battle brewing in the center of their quiet little town. Going out back doors or through cellar exits. When the last of the seventeen houses were clear of people, he had gone back to find his bow.

  “Thank you, my lady,” Trestin said as he brushed the snow and ice off his weapon. It was sacred weird wood, grown at the heart of the Temple of Sacred Fire on the far eastern coast of Tor. Their faith’s home temple was large, but not so much so that weir wood was cheap. If he had lost it, he was not sure how long it would take for him to earn enough money or favor with the church to get another. “Wish I had my magazine,” he whispered to himself as he made his way behind the town’s buildings, back towards the temple.

  Trestin wondered if they would need him in the fight against the sorcerer. No, he thought, they have four powerful fighters taking on one spell caster. I’m sure they can handle it. When he reached the front steps of the temple, his heart froze in fear. A dark angel, one of the Fallen had come to their home for vengeance. Perfect timing, he thought snidely to himself. Not like we have other things we have to deal with. As he watched the angel, he realized that the Jinn-hybrid was speaking to it. When the words from the angel’s response hit his ears, he knew. This is one of my ladies greatest enemies. The truth of the thought resonated in his bones, and a fire of vengeance and anger blossomed to life.

  He pulled an Ashwood arrow, second most holy wood of the lady of fire and vengeance, knocked it and aimed for the blasphemer’s heart. Just before he loosed, he saw an old man stirring at the feet of the monster. Blood covered half his nearly bald head, pouring from a deep gash along his brow and up over his head. High Priest Conover!

  Fear gripped Trestin’s heart. Not fear for the village, or fear for himself. But fear for an old man who had been nothing but kind to him through everything the boy had lived through. The Angel looked down at the stirring priest and smiled, as the Jinn rushed off to reengage with the heroes.

  Trestin loosed, and the arrow took on a spin. He used an ability called Drive Shot which enhanced the spin that his fletching’s gave the arrow. This gave it more punching power and allowed the shaft to shoot straight for longer. The arrow dug into the dark angel’s chest with bloody abandon. The creature shrieked as the holy Ashwood burst into flames upon touching him. Trestin had made the shaft thick. Better to take down large prey. Here, it would burn the enemy for a long time. The angel broke the shaft, leaving nearly half the wood still inside, burning its way deeper towards its heart.

  Seeing his moment Trestin ran towards Conover. Several arrows fell from his thigh quiver as he ran, but he ignored them. He would have more when he needed them. Trestin got to the old man as he fought to his knees. The dark angel was busy ripping at its own chest, desperately trying to dislodge the burning fire eating its way towards his heart.

  “Come on old man, let’s get you out of here.” Trestin pulled him up and over his shoulder in a battlefield carry he had seen his master, Sir Jonathan, use more times than he could count.

  “No,” the priest said, his voice weak but insistent. “Kindler.” Conover pointed a weak hand towards where the large hammer was sitting. Sighing, Trestin bent over and retrieved the weapon. As he touched it, he felt a trickle of power run through the weapon and into his arm. He felt something inside the weapon urging him to do, something. It was like a voice he could recognize but not understand.

  Trestin didn’t stop; he picked up the pace and ran straight for the main door to the chapel. Someone opened it just enough for him to slip through and deposit the wounded priest. As the door slammed behind him, Trestin tried to calm his mind and listen. Whatever the weapon was trying to tell him was important. He felt that in his bones. But he couldn’t understand.

  The others around him were speaking, worrying, and preparing a defense as priests lead terrified townsfolk and refugees in simple prayers. Asking for protection, guidance, and success for the heroes who fought against the monsters outside. Trestin joined them just for a moment. He could spare that for his lady. “Oh, lady of light, “ he whispered into the chapel. “What is your will?” Nothing miraculous happened. Nothing large or filled with fire and lightning or crashing thunder. But a still, small flame kindled in his heart. Not of vengeance, not of worry. But one of simple assurance.

  Then the voice grew clear, like the howl of a wolf at just the right moment of peace during a winter storm. The image of the hammer, his master’s weapon striking the Fallen, filled his mind. Fear crept into his heart, but he ignored it. Choosing instead to remember courage, and the example his master had set not that long ago.

  He kn
ew what he had to do, but he had no idea how he was going to do it. “Open the door!” He ordered. The two acolytes, both older men carrying heavy swords, looked at him skeptically. They had just finished placing the massive wooden barricade back in its place, and now he wanted them to remove it?

  “By all that is holy and good, open that door or I will break it to splinters!” The two were unimpressed with his threat. But they knew him, knew he was a full knight, not just some up jumped squire. They sighed and lifted the heavy beam so he could exit. They opened the door just enough that he slipped through and slammed it shut right after.

  The angel had a bloody hole in its chest. It had carved its own flesh away and had successfully removed his burning holy arrow. The flesh began to re-knit itself, and Trestin hefted the hammer. He did not know if this was going to work, but he trusted his lady, and more importantly, perhaps, he trusted his master.

  “For The Lady!” He shouted as he brought the hammer down on the angel’s knee. The bones cracked, but didn’t shatter. The angel screamed in rage and reached a hand out towards him. Trestin received a notification from Ethria, and the tide began to shift.

  Error, non-registered System Level Entity detected. Contacting registered regional enforcement. Mortal Enemy status detected. Registered Mortal Enemy granted enforcement response priority. Please stand by.

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  I was on my knees. The weight of the Jinns rage and anger bore down on me as a physical force. I felt my bones start to give way.

  Pina had summoned dozens of vines from nowhere. She had encased herself in them both as armor and as defense; she had become a kind of living avatar of nature. The thorns that she used to cut at the Jinn were the size of knives, and the vines were as thick as Tol’geth’s arms. The two gave as good as they got and were evenly matched. At first.