by B A Vonsik
The inner tower suddenly lit up brilliantly with lightning dancing all about the red and black-armored warrior. The Kabiri’s Agni Powers attack caused discomfort to the one in the red and black armor, enough to cause him to step backwards into Trundiir’s incessant grunting attacks with clunk after clunk of futile sword strikes at the warrior’s back. Aren felt the new vibrations, but they manifested so fast he couldn’t yell out in alarm. As the warrior raised a hand at the Kabiri, Rogaan decided to act, sending a singing arrow at the red and black armor. The arrow sank into the chest of the warrior, who stood motionless, staring down at the half-primitive arrow with the broadhead punched through his armor.
“Ahhh . . .” the red and black warrior spoke out in a deep, rumbling voice. “You surprise me again, Roga of the Blood An.”
The warrior then pulled the arrow from his chest with a grunt, deforming the arrow shaft in his gauntleted hand as he did. He examined the bloodstained blue metal broadhead. “Nizi’barzil. You and your father need to be made smiths for the gods.
“Such little gratitude for my bringing you back to this Light,” the warrior chastised Rogaan as he tossed the broken arrow and blue steel broadhead at the half Tellen’s boots. While the warrior parlayed, Aren sensed the vibrations of him healing himself. Turning his attention on Aren, he gave warning to Rogaan. “I’ll trouble with you in moments.”
Oh, dung! Oh, dung! Aren in reflex manifested a vaporous shield between him and the warrior and then exalted it with everything he had. He felt the Powers being summoned by the warrior, and it almost frightened Aren into not being capable of thinking.
“I cannot allow you to see him freed!” the warrior announced as he unleashed the Powers on Aren.
Aren felt the Power just before seeing it come at him in waves of blues, violets, and reds. Pushed in front of the wave, the air seemed to resist the Powers, then . . . annihilation with tiny strokes of lightning riding its front. In the moments it traveled the twenty and more strides to him, Aren felt it as powerful and terrible. One last time Aren exalted his shield . . . his only defense but feared it was no match for this attack. The waves slammed into Aren’s shield with a physical force knocking him back. Struggling to stay standing, he managed to keep his feet, as the air around him felt alive with lightning, stinging him everywhere as he watched in horror his shield being gnawed away. The waves kept pushing on him. Aren pushed back as much as he could but felt he was losing, as the sound of his Agni-created shield being annihilated deafened him in a roar of crackling. Aren closed his eyes, waiting for it to do the same to him. Silence took hold on the bridge except for the light swirl of the wind. The force pushing him gone. Aren opened his eyes to see the timbers beneath his feet sizzling much the same as his tunic and pants. Painful blisters rose in spots on his wrists and hands where directly exposed to the Powers. I’m Alive! Having exerted so much defending himself, Aren felt exhausted, dizzy, and out of breath.
Looking up, Aren found the red and black warrior standing in the tower’s northern archway as if surprised the Evendiir remained alive. With a frustrated growl, the warrior made to attack him again. Aren felt it . . . the same as the last. He tried to defend himself by manifesting another shield. His concentration failed him . . . nothing. Desperation started filling him while Aren watched helplessly death, in this red and black form, staring him in the face. Slower came the attack. The warrior’s Agni Powers manifesting this time seemed slower than the last. He’s exalting it. Aren realized with horror the warrior meant not only to make him lightless but annihilated. I can’t withstand it. Where to go? Aren looked about finding no cover. Blades striking and dancing off metal drew his attention back to the warrior where he found Pax striking him repeatedly. The red and black warrior completely ignored Pax. Where to go? Nothing. There was no place to hide. Jump from the bridge was all Aren saw as a last chance to live—and a bad one at that.
Aren exhaled in defeat. I’ll not survive the leap. He stared at the warrior as the exalting manifestation chosen to annihilate him was almost ready to be unleashed. A dark object passing in front of Aren right to left with a whoosh startled him. He jumped as his skin prickled. He felt the vibrations sweeping from his right to his left, in the trail of the dark featherwing as a scintillating crystalline wall of the Powers rose in the featherwing’s wake. The wall stood between Aren and the warrior as red and black unleashed his Powers. Aren felt and watched the waves of blues, violets, and reds slamming into the crystalline wall where it exploded into a sheet of lightning so bright Aren had to shield his eyes with his blistered hands. It lasted moments, then was gone . . . all of the Powers. Peeking from behind his pained hands, Aren saw more of the bridge’s timbers sizzling, except for those from where the featherwing had placed the wall. Aren exhaled with a sigh of relief.
“Curse you Ebons!” the red and black-armored warrior yelled after the dark featherwing. Returning his gaze on Aren, the warrior drew his heavy bladed sword. “Then we will do this with bloodstains.”
Aren watched in horror as the warrior took his first step at him. What do I do now? Wide-eyed, he froze in place. All he could do is stare at the Light-Taker closing on him. Suddenly, Rogaan appeared behind the warrior having jumped up on his back slipping his bow string over the red and black helm and using it as a garrote against the large warrior’s neck.
“You will not harm him, Vassal!” Rogaan declared in a grunt. Aren could see the half Tellen’s muscles strain as he spoke through gritted teeth. Rogaan used his body to pull back on his bow, tightening the metal garrote against the warrior’s neck. Aren realized, for the first time, how big this warrior stood. Easily a head above Rogaan and with more bulk in that armor.
Vassal? Did Rogaan speak of him as . . . Vassal? Aren swallowed hard. The warrior in battle with the Shunned on the Khaaron? In Aren’s quick scrutiny, this Vassal was more dangerous to him than the Shunned. At least the Shunned had some demented plan for me. This Vassal wishes me lightless and obliterated.
Aren had little hope Rogaan could stop this Vassal from obliterating him. Then, Trundiir and Esizila both drove their bodies into the Vassal’s armored legs causing the warrior to stumble before regaining his balance. They continued grappling and fighting with fists and appendage-leveraged moves. The Vassal fought hard against them to keep his balance, striking them with sword pommel and his powerful gauntleted fist. The four of them grappled, sending themselves slamming up against the tower stonework, knocking loose and off chips of the larger blocks. Appearing in the tower archway, Daluu stood waving at Aren and the others to come and follow him quickly. His feet able to move now that he had a place to go that wasn’t to his death, Aren ran, hoping to avoid the other four battling. When Pax and Suhd saw Aren approaching, they grabbed the wobbling Dajil and pulled her through the tower archways following Daluu in his dark Ebon Circle wears. Aren kept looking back at the four grappling like a father with three of his children at play. Serious play.
Several simultaneous vibrations alarmed Aren, causing him to stop and look back at his . . . friends in battle with a most powerful foe. Arcs of lightning sparked between the Vassal’s red and black armor and the three. A swift kick to Trundiir, a stiff punch to Esizila, and a backward slamming of Rogaan against the block stone of the tower found all three of them on the timbers scrambling to not be the Vassal’s first mark for his sword. The vibrations are intensifying . . . becoming tremors. Aren leaned left to peek around the Vassal, who was now looking at him from less than twenty strides. Behind the Vassal stood two figures. Aren recognized them both. Ezerus . . . and Luntanus Alum. He swallowed harder than before as he fought to control his own fear. The Vassal took notice of what held Aren’s attention and turned to see what could be more important than to look his own death in the eyes.
“Aren!” Daluu’s voice was somewhere behind him. “It’s too dangerous to remain here.”
“Come with us, mystic,” Pax encouraged in his defiant way.
“Flee, Aren,” Dajil’s shaky voice
most shocked Aren.
He was about to turn when the tremors shook his mind as a barrage of blue lights and lightning arced from the Shunned at the Vassal. The first volley struck the Vassal’s back or an unseen shield of some kind, forcing the Vassal to stumble toward Aren. That caused Aren’s heart to skip several beats. Too close! Too close! The Vassal’s armor seemed to have somehow absorbed or thrown off the Shunned’s attack, and now he turned to face his foe. He Vassal parried the second volley of blue lights and lightning from Luntanus Alum with his own manifestations of Agni Powers. The parried Powers found themselves blasting tower stone all around the Vassal, sending flying in all directions chipped and shattered shards of sharp rock. In the midst of the chaos, Rogaan and Trundiir collected up Esizila, and all set off running toward Aren. When they met up with him, they all turned to watch the wonder of light displays . . . dangerous displays of the Powers.
“Even with your renewed abilities, Enshag of the Dingiir . . .” the Shunned projected his voice with Agni Powers somehow Aren was certain of it, “you cannot stop me. And I cannot let you take them from me. Behold! Your temple is in flames, and I have the Agni keys.”
The Shunned pointed west to the temple hills of Anza. A top one of the hills near where Aren and Rogaan experienced the Chorus of Kunsag, a temple was indeed engulfed in flames.
“You have always been a dragon of chaos . . . child of Tiamat,” Enshag, the Vassal, declared. “You can never gain the Ra’Sakti. In your hands, the world will be all flames as you threaten the cosmos.”
“And commanded by you with the Ra’Sakti in their hands,” the Shunned retorted as he motioned a hand at Aren and the others standing behind Enshag, “the world is to be enslaved by you with the return of your kind.”
Aren felt vibrations coming from both Enshag and the Shunned, no . . . more lengthy tremors in their exaltations, rapidly growing in strength . . . like nothing he felt before. “We need to leave.”
“Yes. Quickly,” Daluu added from somewhere behind. “We are witness to a new legend of days yet to be. They are joined in mortal battle . . . something we dare not be here to share.”
Aren felt both the legends let loose unbridled Powers at each other. A rainbow of colors shaping the lines of Agni Powers colliding in between them, opposing walls of Powers battling to annihilate the other. It sparked and brightened, strengthening quickly as a sphere growing between them.
“Run,” was all Aren said in a soft, disbelieving voice . . . with a sense of doom.
They all turned and ran as fast as they could to get as much distance from the battle as possible. As they reached the end of the timbers of the bridge and stepped on a flagstone and dirt area at the bridgehead, Aren turned to look, still unbelieving. The Shunned and Vassal were relentlessly still at each other. Neither yielding. He felt the Powers stronger than ever . . . immense. How much of the world will break from it?
The brown and white featherwing fluttered to a hurried landing just in front of them and spread its wings while facing them and its back to the battle. Aren felt more vibrations . . . a shield of some kind. Like the wall of scintillating crystalline the dark featherwing had manifested earlier.
“This is very grave,” the Ebon Circle Kabiri announced to everyone. “Aren, set forth your shield and exalt it until you no longer stand. Everyone . . . get close and lie low.”
Uncertain if they could survive what was coming, Aren focused on creating his vaporous shield as he felt the Kabiri manifesting his own and setting it inside of Aren’s just outside the featherwing’s manifested wall. He felt the wielded Agni Powers by the Shunned and Enshag starting to waver and spear uncontrollably. It was then Aren felt another manifestation, powerful in its own manner. Above. He looked up. Plunging through an opening in the gloomy clouds and toward the battle on the bridge was the dark featherwing. Its black feathers and outstretched talons engulfed in lightning that left a trail of burnt sky. The featherwing plunged in silence. The three Powers met. A brilliant flash forced Aren and the others to shield and advert their eyes as the ground shook violently, and the roar of wind rose in a moment of deafening sound. All went dark.
Chapter 37
Path’s Veil
The choking air started to settle around them as some sunlight managed to penetrate the veil. His head and body hurt fiercely as he did his best to cough out the dirt and debris that found its way into his mouth and throat. An eerie silence filled the air all around. Nothing spoke in the wilds. No voices spoke from civilization. Tears filled his eyes trying to clear them of the same debris he coughed, and his face felt soaked in tears that flowed down his cheeks. At least, he hoped the wetness came from tears.
“Is everyone with breath?” Rogaan asked in a dulled manner while lying prone. Daluu and Esizila replied immediately, grunting and groaning, then started coughing. Pax and Suhd followed the same. Dajil groaned, then answered with a coughing fit. Aren remained silent, giving Rogaan concern he was badly injured . . . or worse. Then, in a prolonged groan, the Evendiir answered he was breathing.
“What was all of that?” Rogaan coughed out, expecting either Daluu or Aren to answer. Silence filled the air making him anxious that neither of them understood their shared experiences.
“Powers of the Agni,” Daluu finally answered with a groan. “With a nasty adjunct of the master, a Shunned, and that Ancient.”
“You speak of the gods,” Aren commented, then spit out something. “I feared that was what I saw . . . and felt.”
The group remained silent for long moments. Then, when they heard a weak caw, they struggled, regaining their feet and began looking for the featherwing. Esizila found it first after removing several large branches and fronds it was trapped under. The once brown and white feather shook off dirt and sticks clinging to its feathers, then jumped up onto a rock protruding above some loose debris. The Ebon Circle guardsman jumped back as if he feared touching it as it cawed more strongly, but with a sadness. It stared into the cloudy gray veil of dust still settling to the ground. It seemed to see something no one else could. The animal then took to cleaning its feathers. Unnerved by the featherwing’s behaviors, the group began looking about for anything that would give knowledge of which direction Anza lay. The debris grew less solid as the moments passed, pulling back the veil hiding the wilds close to them. A mess was the wilds with fallen and broken trees, crushed bushes, large stone blocks thrown about, and broken branches and sundered plants filling in between. Amazing none of us got struck or hurt by a tossed stone.
As the cloud of debris thinned, Anza . . . or what was left of it, came into view. All stood in awe seeing the sun cast slanting shafts of light through the clouds across the desolation. Nothing remained of the bridge or the walls of the ravine separating Temple District from Coiner’s District. The ravine now seemed wider. Even the ground under the bridge was scooped out to look like a bowl. It was now filling with waters from the rivers.
“Father . . .” Rogaan moaned.
“He never made it close to the . . . bridge,” Dajil struggled to speak half in her squealing tones and half more huskily as she spoke through gritted teeth. Closest, Rogaan made to help her up from her knees. She weakly tried to wave him off, but Rogaan felt stubborn about getting her up and out of the tangle of broken branches. After several more attempts at waving him off, she eventually accepted his assistance to stand.
Looking at her face and eyes, Rogaan saw instantly she was in great pain. “Daluu, is there something you can do for her?”
“Possibly . . . She appears strong,” the Ebon Circle Kabiri commented on his observation of her. “Though she bleeds in many places and those lashing stripes under her armor must hurt.”
“Can you . . .” Rogaan asked again. He recalled the brutal whipping she received earlier.
“Yes . . . some,” the Kabiri answered.
As the Kabiri mumbled and placed his hands on Dajil to complete his manifestations, Rogaan looked at Pax and Suhd. Suhd threw daggers at him in her star
e as Pax stared wide-eyed at his sister.
“What?” Rogaan asked honestly with wide eyes on Suhd. Suhd said nothing. She just crossed her arms as she intensified her glare. Rogaan wanted Suhd to understand he wanted to return a small sense of gratitude to Dajil. “She is hurt . . . and she helped me in the Farratum jail.”
Suhd’s brows raised, giving Rogaan that “indeed” look. Pax gave Rogaan the big wave-off, signaling him to not ask or explain anything more with both his eyes and waving his hand at his side while trying not to let his sister see him do it. Suhd then made a “humph” and stomped off toward Aren and the still-grounded featherwing.
“Ahhh-gra-ahhhhhh,” Dajil groaned.
Rogaan looked back to Dajil and Daluu finding the Kabiri holding the Tusaa’Ner guardswoman by the head keeping her from falling over. Dajil looked worse than before the Kabiri did his healing on her. Waving Daluu off and rejecting any more assistance, she stood on her own.
“I’m better,” she said in a tone unlike her high-pitched barking when giving orders. Her continued wincing told of wounds still painful, but evidently bearable to her. “My gratitude, Kabiri.”
Rogaan thought her tone pleasing and started to stare at her. Dajil saw Rogaan and gave him her own “humph” and walked off as she spoke at Rogaan. “Don’t see me like that.”
Rogaan watched openmouthed as Dajil took a spot not far off with her back to him, then stared at the mess of Anza. He looked to Daluu, then Pax for help or at least understanding of what he did wrong. Both appeared not to want to get in the middle of things by looking away and at their feet. A heavy slap on his back surprised Rogaan. Looking at who struck him found a grinning Trundiir.
