Rise of Serpents

by B A Vonsik

  “We must go!” Daluu insisted.

  As things were being stowed in belts, pouches, and carry packs, noise and gruff voices from the far end of the bridgeway alerted them. Emerging from the west tunnel was a troop of scarlet-sashed Tusaa’Ner. When they saw the aftermath of battle, they paused, taking in the scene. With a shout from their leader, they raised their crossbows and fired wildly at the group. Suhd screamed as Rogaan threw her to the timbers. The bolt flying for her struck his scout armor in the back, deflecting off and finding Pax, cutting his left shoulder.

  Before he thought what to do, Aren summoned the Power manifesting fire, then shaped it into a wall. He set it near the Tusaa’Ner across the bridgeway. He then wondered . . . How do I maintain this without concentrating on it?

  “Everyone, this way to the other side of the bridge,” Daluu directed.

  “If I stop concentrating on this, the wall will fall.” Aren partly informed, partly complained that he didn’t want to be left behind.

  “Everyone . . . go!” Rogaan ordered. “I will stay with him while you escape.”

  “Seriously?” Daluu questioned. “Both of you are more important than the rest of us. Noble you want to stay behind. Yet, it will be my Light if I let that happen.”

  “Suggestions?” Aren asked nervously, fearing that there was no way out of this for him. More guardsmen gathered behind his flames as Daluu and Rogaan discussed their situation.

  Aren felt it. Vibrations. This time coming from Daluu. The vibrations were different than those he previously felt—something new he’s manifesting. A tiny ball of swirling flame appeared in the Ebon Circle Kabiri’s palm, then grew to the size of his hand. Sizzling, Daluu threw . . . no, more pushed the ball of flames toward the Tusaa’Ner. Clear for Aren to see, a trail of the Powers appeared in the wake of the flames as it passed through Aren’s wall of flames, through the throng of guardsmen, and into the tunnel. It flashed brightly inside, followed immediately by a thunderous boom shaking the bridge and causing debris to fly every which way as the Tusaa’Ner everywhere were thrown to the timbers . . . several unlucky ones even tossed from the bridge.

  “Drop your flames and start running,” offered Daluu.

  Aren didn’t need to be told twice. He stopped concentrating on his manifestation, allowing the wall of the Powers to fade away, but the flames remained. Oops.

  “By all of Kur!” Daluu sounded exasperated. “You set fire to the bridge.”

  “That’s a good thing . . . isn’t it?” Trundiir asked.

  “This bridge is ancient . . .” the Kabiri explained. “It could burn quickly, trapping us into jumping in the waters below.”

  “It would take our Light . . . the fall,” Pax stated, looking over the side of the bridge. He now held his sister’s hand, ensuring she would stay close.

  “Not the fall . . . the snapjaws,” Trundiir answered for Daluu.

  “This way, everyone,” Daluu demanded as he swept his arm in the direction of the tower. “Follow Esizila to the other side of the river.”

  “My father?” Rogaan took hold of the Kabiri’s right arm with his own.

  “He is where he and the master need him,” the Kabiri answered. Not what the half Tellen wanted to hear, but maybe what he needed to.

  The seven of them ran east through the tower and onto the mirror bridgeway to that they just left. It would take them across the ravine splitting Anza, to the Coiner’s District where Anza’s wealth resided. Daluu was leading them to what he named the East Gate allowing them to escape the city. Aren felt strongly mixed emotions about traveling in that direction. As he passed through the circular block stone tower, he looked to the narrow stone-shaped steps built into the wall on the south side of the shape leading up to the street level. In his mind, it called to him to travel the steps. Aren paused, fighting with himself but only for a moment before he resumed chasing after the others, convincing himself he still could satisfy the whisper in his mind and make the travel . . . just from the East Gate. Aren, following Daluu, saw the other five run into each other, bunching up behind the Ebon Circle guardsman. He stopped for some reason. A quick look around the jumbled group found royal blue-sashed, bronze-chested guardsmen running at them from the opposite end of the bridge length. Many of them. Quickly realizing he could satisfy both his . . . needs, Aren felt the Power surge and flow through him. It felt so soothing and exciting all at once as his mind and body tingled. Everything around seemed more vivid . . . more alive. Remembering what he needed to do, he manifested another wall of flames, placing it halfway down the eighty-some-stride bridge length. Daluu immediately turned with glaring eyes on Aren.

  “What . . .?” Aren questioned the foul-eyed Kabiri as he concentrated on making the flames as hot as he could. “You have a better idea?”

  Daluu and Aren stood glaring at each other exchanging unspoken challenges. The Kabiri was clearly angry but didn’t have an answer to Aren’s question. Rolling his eyes, Daluu then yelled out, “We’re trapped with one direction to go. This way, everyone.”

  The seven of them reentered the stone tower with Daluu in the lead. Once inside, Aren concentrated one last time on making the flames hot. They flared as the Seb’Ner yelled in retreat. Dropping his concentration, the Power now gone and the flames remaining burning the timbers and giving Aren an agreeable sense of satisfaction. Daluu mounted the foot-wide stone steps in the tower, then carefully made his way up keeping his body against the stone wall. Rogaan followed. Aren decided to hop in the line just behind the half Tellen. Trundiir grunted at Aren, then followed just behind him, making Aren feel as protected as was possible in their situation. Daluu paused at the top of the steps before climbing onto the street level. Rogaan did the same with only the slightest pause. Aren stopped with his head just exposed enough for him to take in his surroundings. Only Daluu and Rogaan. Good. He climbed the last steps with a sense of relief.

  His relief evaporated when he peeked out of the arched doorway to the east. A troop of Seb’Ner accompanied by Anza Tusaa’Ner were making their way from Coiner’s District toward them. Too many! though the smoke billowing from the lower level gave him hope fire would soon engulf the bridge length. Maybe another wall of . . .

  “What in Kur is that?” Rogaan sounded dismayed.

  Aren turned. His heart felt as if it stopped as his sensing of the Powers struck him hard, disoriented him, as a flaming whip . . . A tendril went slicing through a Seb’Ner formation at the other end of the bridge length. Where’d that come from? Aren wasn’t knowing it, but if felt familiar. Lucufaar . . . Luntanus Alum. Smoke from the flames below billowed out and around both sides of the bridge not far behind the routed Seb’Ner formations. Everyone within their group crowded around to see while doing their best not to expose themselves to the happenings at both ends of the bridge crossing Anza’s ravine.

  “Fellows!” Trundiir almost calmly called out.

  Looking at the other bridge length, the guardsmen were starting to cross where billowing smoke from below almost completely obscured Aren’s view of the full bridge. Too many . . . not going to happen. Aren considered and decided as quick as that as he calmed his mind and reached out, allowing the Power to flow through him making the world vivid . . . alive . . . desirable. At his thoughts, another manifested wall of flames swept across the bridge width at the same spot where the smoke billowed from below. Screams from guardsmen caught in the fiery wall brought a sense of satisfaction to Aren. Only three guardsmen made it through.

  “You two should be able to handle them . . .” Aren pointed at Trundiir and the Ebon Circle guardsman as he concentrated on making the flames hotter. The continued screams from those caught in his wall brought a smile to his face. Aren turned back to their Shunned problem, finding Daluu staring at him with a contemptuous gaze.

  “We gravely need to talk,” was all the Ebon Circle Kabiri said before returning his attention to their trouble coming from the west end of the bridge.

  Aren watched as Trundiir and Esi
zila joined battle with the three Seb’Ner. A singing arrow zipped past Aren’s head striking the center guardsman in the chest where the fletching remained protruding out from the bronze chest plate. A second singing arrow cut through the guardsman’s throat, sending him to the timbers with his life spurting from his neck. Aren looked back at Rogaan, giving him a harsh gaze at the arrows passing so close to his head. “A little close, wouldn’t you say?”

  Rogaan returned a friendly smile that seemed a little too playful for Aren. Aren was about to chastise the half Tellen, but over Rogaan’s shoulder, Aren spotted through billowing pillars of smoke most of the routed Seb’Ner lying about the west end of the bridge. A few of them still alive and attempting retreat and escape found their Lights burnt from them as the Shunned lashed them with his flaming tendril by his right hand or blue light bolts from his other. A ripple of fear uncomfortably washed through Aren. Nothing was to stop Lucufaar . . . Luntanus Alum. Aren suddenly felt sick for having been so close to the ancient legend. Vibrations new drew Aren’s attention back to the Shunned. He watched as lines of the Power formed a ball on the west length engulfing the bridge where he had set fire to it. The smoke from the bridge fire lessened over the long moments he and everyone else watched in awe the awesome display of the Power.

  “He stilled da fire.” Pax made an anxious comment at what they all just saw as his sister hugged him with fear-filled eyes.

  “We have need to leave from . . . him.” Aren’s gaze remained fixed on the approaching Shunned.

  “I agree with your insight, Evendiir.” Daluu sounded shaken and anxious while alternating between looking at Aren and the approaching Shunned. “You both saved us and gave us but one choice. Everyone . . . to Blood Bridge.”

  “Blood Bridge?” Trundiir asked returning to the tower. Both he and the Ebon Circle guardsman were splattered in blood, the guardsman now visibly limping but alive.

  “Our only escape if we are to keep our Lights,” stated Daluu as he stepped to the southern tower archway. Surveying the three lengths of bridge and towers to the south, he saw what he hoped he wouldn’t. “More Seb’Ner in this direction. They approach over the bridgeway.”

  “We have more . . . companions with that Shunned this direction,” Rogaan announced, watching the west bridgeway.

  “Shunned?” Suhd asked as she and Pax peeked out of the same archway as Rogaan looking to the west. “What be that?”

  “The bridge is ablaze to the east,” announced Esizila in his deep voice.

  “More Seb’Ner on the lower bridge to the east,” Daluu sounded aggravated on the way to desperate.

  “Jump from da bridge?” Pax recommended seeking a path not including fighting.

  “Too high . . .” Rogaan dashed that idea.

  “And . . . a large number of snapjaws now gather below,” added Daluu as he returned from the side of the bridge just outside the southern tower archway.

  “I say we take the path with least opportunity of becoming lightless.” Aren laid out his rational thoughts that hid his inner desires while watching the approaching Seb’Ner on Blood Bridge. “We go south . . . big fellows in front.”

  Chapter 35

  Consumed

  The Farratum Tusaa’Ner kept to their formation as they followed their ar’seergal and seergal down the cobblestones. Before them, an ancient legend that all feared in their youngling years from tales told to them by fathers and mothers, was destroying wagons, carts, and wood and stone structures as he sought to kill all those who opposed him. Fires small and growing were all about them. A wake of annihilation.

  He looked to his seergal to see if she was still able to do her duties or see her replaced. Sitting stiffly tall in pain, the grimace she wore spoke of her toughness or stubbornness, he didn’t know which. Regardless, his discipline of her appeared to be working. How long . . . He didn’t know that either. When will she turn on me? he asked himself as he kept his eyes looking for stragglers the Shunned missed. There were none. A chill rippled through Ezerus at the totality of death and destruction at Luntanus Alum’s hand. The legends spoke true of him.

  Ahead, the Shunned neared the royal blue and bronze line of defense at the bridgehead. Repeated volleys of arrows intended for him the Shunned waved away as if the wilds and winds were at his command. Smoke started billowing up from the bridge behind the Seb’Ner defenders. What’s happening there? Suspecting something amiss, Ezerus started to issue the command to advance at a run. His words were drowned out by the yells and screams of his Tusaa’Ner as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Looking back, he found lightning arcing all about the column, from somewhere near the crossroads. Then, a brief series of orange-red balls of flames struck the column, setting afire a wagon and several guardsmen. Everyone was scattered, in chaos. In the distance through the destruction, Ezerus spotted a group of red and black-robed Baraans accompanied and protected by those two green-armored Ursan who attacked the Khaaron with the red-clad warrior.

  Needing to reorganize his guardsmen, the wounded sakal now riding a sarig within the column raised a battle cry and set off to doing so without command from either his ar’seergal or seergal. Maybe a good Baraan leader after all. If he saves the day, he needs promoting. As the sakal rallied the Tusaa’Ner, the seergal turned her sarig to the rear of the column and made to charge into the fray.

  “Hold, Seergal!” Ezerus commanded.

  “What?” She looked at him with pain and dismay.

  “The important battle is at the bridge,” he told her not knowing how he knew that.

  “But . . . Mother . . .” Dajil’s face twisted in pain and agony, and not from her lashes.

  The sakal had already gotten the column partially together as the niisku-drawn prisoner wagon, no more than a covered wagon with anchor mounts to attach leg chains to, moved away from the fight and toward Ezerus and Dajil. Sitting next to the driver was Za Irzal, in light chains. When Dajil saw the chains, her angered flared and her pain-stricken grimace turned to hatred as she glared at Ezerus.

  “You had her—” Dajil screeched at Ezerus.

  “Your lashings were merciful!” Ezerus cut her off. “Don’t provoke more. Irzal’s usefulness is waning. Consider if yours wanes as well. Your duty is to protect the Shunned.”

  His seergal, Dajil . . . daughter of Za Irzal, slumped in her saddle as she held defeat in her eyes. Tears flowed and dripped from under her helm. Ezerus felt disgust for her, but he needed his seergal to keep the Tusaa’Ner loyal. Then, her tears and whimpering stopped. Ezerus placed his hand on his long knife pommel, not certain of what his seergal would do. She looked up to the prisoner wagon and held a long moment of eye contact with her mother. Then, Irzal made a series of hand motions. Dajil shook her head, resisting the unspoken words. Irzal made the hand gestures again. Ezerus, concerned at this secret talk going on right before him, made to break in.

  “Seergal . . .” he started.

  “I have my orders!” Dajil declared with hotly determined slits for eyes. She spurred her sarig at the prisoner wagon.

  Surprised at Dajil’s reckless action, Ezerus spurred his own sarig in the hope he could catch her before she did whatever she was about to do. His sarig burst into a fast run, but he wasn’t closing on his seergal. On the run, Dajil snatched a spear sticking up from a dead sarig in the street, the spear likely one of the objects the Shunned waved away when being attacked and charged the prisoner wagon.

  “No . . . the driver,” Ezerus feared. She’s trying to get the wagon to run wildly. Then, he saw his seergal shift her point of aim with the spear. “No! She means to end her mother’s Light.”

  Ezerus spurred his sarig on but realized he couldn’t stop this daughter from taking her mother’s Light. Dajil passed to the right on her mother’s side of the wagon and continued on. Is she seeking to attack the robed ones? Ezerus followed, now confused about what she was up to. Dajil turned her sarig left at the rear of the wagon. Ezerus followed and turned too but found his seer
gal to be nowhere. Clearing the wagon, Ezerus spotted his seergal heading back in the direction they came. Either she was about to attack what remained of the Seb’Ner, or she was going to . . . No!

  Ezerus spurred on his sarig with everything it had. Ahead, the Shunned had already made lightless all but a few disoriented Seb’Ner stragglers and now simply looked at the bridgehead watching the flames and smoke in front of him diminish and die. At this distance and with her head start, Ezerus knew he wouldn’t reach her in time to stop her. He concentrated on “Behind you.”

  The Shunned twisted and turned around with his flaming whip lashing out in a wide-arcing sweep back at Dajil and her steed. She was on him . . . a thousand stones of charging sarig, spear, and sheer desperation. The flaming whip slashed under the animal taking two of its legs, sending the sarig tumbling and Dajil flying forward in an arc with spear still pointed at her target. Luntanus Alum dodged the spear but put himself in the path of the sarig. The thousand stones slamming into him hurled the Shunned into the stone wall at the side of the bridge. Dajil hit the wood timbers, then went tumbling past the burned and smoldering section of the bridge where she lay still.

  Ezerus immediately made for the down Luntanus Alum. He wasn’t certain, but he felt that the Shunned was still alive. He urged his sarig on stepping through and on the motionless Seb’Ner lying in his way. The crunching sounds under his steed’s feet he knew were their bodies breaking. Dismounting, Ezerus found the Shunned, his black and lavender tunic and pants torn in places, trying to sit up against the stone wall, his wiry build struggling to make himself vertical. Blood matted his silver-streaked gray hair and ran down his now lightly scarred face. Those from the old scars from the Khaaron. A groan from the ancient legend told others he was in pain. Ezerus didn’t need to hear the groan to know he was hurt. He felt it . . . all of the pain, though somewhat dulled. Thankful the pain wasn’t his, he realized truly how connected he was to this Shunned. It frightened him. His growing thoughts of ending the legend’s Light and being revered a hero for it caused him concern that He would know his thoughts.