Lastborn of Forsaken Roses

by Thomas Green

  The prince said nothing, only motioned his men to clear the way. “Good luck in the finals.”

  Raven wished he didn’t say that. He passed him and headed back to his cell. Once there, he sat by the grave of his former friend. Nibbles was dead. Samantha was dead. Yvonne was gravely wounded, probably dead. Luna was about to die by the morning when the backlash would hit her. He wished Jonathan wouldn’t choose to die as well. Will everyone I ever meet die like this?

  Raven had never felt so alone.

  41

  Lucas

  Lucas woke up on the horse. He glanced around, seeing Merewen leading his steed while Nashimaeal and Miranda rode by his other side. He straightened and stretched before he turned to Miranda. “Why the sour face?”

  “No reason,” Miranda snapped.

  “Unless it is an order, I would prefer to keep Miranda’s privacy,” Nashimaeal concurred.

  Lucas rubbed his cheek with his palm. “You two sure know how to suck the fun out of a good battle.”

  Miranda pierced him with a glare. “What battle? We burned their army to nothing, and now we will finish it. I don’t see the battle part.”

  Lucas shrugged. “That’s what makes this battle a good one. Talking about the fire, slavers look like they are down to barely a thousand men. That’s about thirteen thousand dead. Do we have an estimate of civilian losses?”

  Miranda’s expression didn’t soften the tiniest bit. “Two smaller villages that refused to evacuate, one lumber mill, few woodcutting and hunting cottages, one shrine… at least five hundred, but not more than a thousand.”

  Lucas smiled. “What are our losses from the siege?”

  Nashimaeal returned his smile. “Sixty lives have perished, and two and half thousand soldiers lay wounded in Illysaeas, so the total losses on lives should not exceed two hundred men.”

  Lucas exploded into laughter, but not a merry one, for it was cold, murderous laughter that froze the blood in the veins of everyone around him.

  Miranda turned to Lucas with her eyes wide. “Never laugh like this again.”

  He grinned, baring his teeth, infinite bloodlust shining in his eyes. This was the first time he saw Miranda pale. Oh, crap, I got carried away. He forced his face into the usual, neutral smile, allowing the others to regroup. While I might be used to counting the dead in tens of thousands, they are not.

  Miranda turned to Nashimaeal. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

  The archbishop sighed. “Because I cannot change how the world is. I will pray for the souls of the men who had lost their lives today and have the church help all that shall need help, but by the end of the day, I cannot deny the success this campaign has been. Despite my opposing preferences toward the used means, I have no option but to acknowledge the result.”

  They rode north, reaching Tor Nukului by sunset. The fort itself stood carved into a lone cliff rising above the sea, a relic of the craft of the Old Kingdom, long lost to time. The Slaver Union’s soldiers were all stuffed inside the fortress, repairing whatever defenses they had found.

  Lucas raised his voice. “Surround them. The navy shall arrive at midnight, and we will synchronize our attack with theirs.”

  Miranda relayed his orders before she turned back to him. “Do they seriously have fortresses everywhere?”

  Lucas laughed. “Yes, this one, in particular, is their main treasury.”

  Miranda shook her head. “What a coincidence.”

  He grinned. “Coincidence, indeed.”

  They set up a provisory camp where Lucas, Merewen, Miranda, and Nashimaeal met in the only standing tent.

  Lucas spread the freshly received map onto a table. “The fortress is half collapsed, which has opened two side entrances aside from the main gate. Our navy will arrive at around midnight, so it is then we shall strike. Elias will handle the sea and seal that escape route. Miranda, you will go through the eastern entrance and find their treasury since we need to secure it, else the Order goes broke after this campaign.”

  Miranda nodded.

  “Merewen. Have your army attack the main gate. The goal isn’t to penetrate, but rather to seal the exits. You will enter through the western entrance, collapse the tunnel behind you and push toward the docks, where you will destroy their fortifications and prepare us a ship to evacuate on for the case the place crumbles.”

  Merewen smiled. “Yes, general.”

  “I will go in alone and kill Collward. The rules of engagement are medium-restricted, for we want the mountain to stay standing after our attack and their treasury intact.”

  Miranda sighed. “So much for using my flame.”

  “Yes.” Lucas smiled. “Questions?”

  Nashimaeal cleared his throat. “The treasury search would go faster if I were to go with Miranda and use my aether to search the mountain.”

  Lucas shook his head. “I don’t like that, because we have no knowledge of what is or isn’t within the fortress. Such a mission would be hazardous for you since you cannot soulstep away, unlike Miranda.”

  “Then would it not be better to reach our destination as soon as we can?” Nashimaeal contested.

  Merewen nodded. “Makes sense.”

  Lucas sighed. “Fine. Nash goes with Miranda. Miranda, you will stay with Nash and make sure he survives. Don’t let him as much as go pee by himself, especially when he tells you that you don’t have to.”

  Miranda clicked her tongue. “Seriously? No fire and babysitting duty? I’m bored already.”

  Lucas smirked. “Tough life. Everyone get ready, for we meet at midnight and end this war before dawn.”

  ***

  Lucas found a remote bundle of rocks, where he lay onto the ground, gazing at the sky. The wet sea air flowed peacefully in the summer breeze while the setting sun painted the heavens to the color of blood. He pulled a cigar and a small steel device from out of his soul chamber. A click later, the device produced flames, which Lucas used to light the cigar.

  He pulled his rosary out of his soul chamber, staring at the plain pendant of a cross while toying with the colored beads. The peace of the moment did not last long, for Archbishop Nashimaeal soon found him and sat on a nearby rock. He gave Lucas a compassionate look. “Why do I have the feeling you are about to do something you will regret?”

  Lucas smiled while hiding the rosary back into his soul chamber. “Must be the cigar.”

  “Yes.” Nashimaeal looked upon the crude symbol of a sword with wings etched onto Lucas’ chest. “I couldn’t help but notice the slight difference in design and the fact that this is the first time since we have met that I see you wear an actual armor. If I were bold enough to wager a guess, I would say you know Edward Collward better than you had told us.”

  “I might.”

  Nashimaeal smiled. “You know if you ever need to talk about these things, I am here.”

  “I am aware. Yet I must ask you to let me off my leash.”

  Nashimaeal laughed. “After all these years, you still hold on to that idea? I am amazed.”

  “I meant it when I said I wouldn’t directly cause a mass loss of human lives unless the Order allowed me to. From the men to whom I gave that promise, you are the only one left, so I have no one else to ask.”

  Nashimaeal’s eyes turned sad. “What are you planning to do?”

  “I will go fight Collward, and this time, we will fight to the death. That is why I sent small teams led by my champions themselves, for I cannot guarantee our fight won’t turn the fortress into rubble.”

  Nashimaeal sighed. “How I wish I knew forcing you into that promise would lead me to decisions like these.”

  “There was a time when you wanted to make them.”

  “There was a time when I was young, naïve, and foolish, and these two times happened to coincide.” Nashimaeal closed his eyes. “Very well, go send him into oblivion. Just… try to be reasonable about the means you employ.”

  Lucas smiled. “I will do my best.”


  “That was the worst lie you had ever told me.”

  “Says the archbishop hiding his armor and chains beneath the robes.”

  Nashimaeal cleared his throat. “I admit I had yet to abandon my ulterior motive when I insisted upon heading into this battle in person.”

  “You are still too old for that.”

  Nashimaeal flicked his wrist and chain made of light shot out of his sleeve, wrapping around Lucas’ cigar to tear it from his mouth. “Not all decays to age.”

  “You were supposed to be the wise one among us.”

  “This is not the age for men of wisdom, and while I hate to admit that my younger self had a point, I do not regret what I had done.”

  Lucas smiled. “Your younger self also featured a severe lack of survival instinct.”

  “Otherwise, we would have never met. Moreover, despite me not using the title in over a century, I am still a prince of the Old Kingdom. I am not supposed to die of old age.”

  “Which reminds me.” Lucas stretched out his aether and reached toward Nashimaeal, pushing his power into the old priest’s veins, into his heart, into his soul, filling him to the brink.

  Nashimaeal had to clench his fists not to shout from the intoxicating feeling of the overwhelming power. “That was unnecessary.”

  “I believe you will put it to good use.”

  “I will try.” Nashimaeal gazed upon the sky. “Tell me, how many champions did you have before me?”

  “Hundreds.”

  “Was Collward one of them?”

  “Yes. There was a time when I called him the master of my treasury while he called me his king. I promised him knowledge and freedom, for which he swore me loyalty. We had both fulfilled our oaths. Yet tonight, I shall take his life and end his dream.”

  42

  The Battle of Tor Nukului

  Beneath the grinning moon, the sea filled with red and gold sails as the Order’s navy emerged from beyond the horizon.

  Lucas wished the others good luck and headed toward the fortress. On his way, he tossed the golden cloak and helmet back into his soul chamber and took out a featureless white mask together with a black cloak and a matching hood. He eyed what looked like an empty window and soulstepped into the hallway beyond.

  The hallways of the fortress were damp, the air stale. Collward’s men were concentrated around the entrances, making his path through the fort issueless. As he navigated through the stone corridors, he arrived at a hall where multiple roads met. About thirty men stood stationed in front of a metal door, a massive demon reminiscent to a twisted, humongous spider hunched in their midst.

  Collward’s last champion, so weakened it could barely stand. Lucas knew he should take it slow and dispose of the soldiers before killing the champion without alarming Collward. He sighed. Raven defeated the other champion with a single blow. He wondered if he was petty enough to compete with him.

  Lucas cursed under his breath, dismissing the thought as ridiculous. Of course, he was. He hadn’t gotten here by being sly and sneaky, but by being the strongest.

  He reached within and removed the seal wrapped around his soul. His aether filled his body to the brink before erupting outward, filling the entire area like heavy water. Lucas gathered his power into a tiny globe before his fist, soulstepped to the champion and punched him, releasing the collected energy into a forward blast.

  The champion and the soldiers all exploded into a red paste, stone crumbled to dust and the steel gate beyond shattered to pieces. The fortress shook as if hit by an earthquake. Lucas stepped forward, entering long hall lit by braziers, with a throne at its end. On the throne sat Edward Collward, his eyes black with golden irises, his head topped by two massive horns.

  Lucas smiled. “Our dance is at its end, my old friend, for I have come for your soul!”

  ***

  Archbishop Nashimaeal walked over corpses, his robes drenched in blood. Among the carnage, the stone floor of the corridor was impossible to see, and if there was anything other than blood to smell, he did not manage.

  Yet he had seen no fighting, for Miranda kept moving a hundred feet ahead of their unit and killed everything that crossed her path.

  Nashimaeal focused on sending his aether forward. His strength pushed through the hallways, creating a map within his mind. “Turn right at the next crossroad.”

  Miranda didn’t respond, but the trail of corpses hinted at her following his directions.

  He advanced, three dozen elite soldiers stalking his steps. Minutes later, they stumbled upon her. She was leaning onto a massive steel gate, moving around as if searching for something.

  Nashimaeal smiled. “Do you feel better?”

  She didn’t look at him. “Sorry, but I need to beat it out.”

  “I would like to express my condolences over what happened to your friend.”

  “Lover. And she will be fine.”

  Still in denial. He shook his head. “This gate indeed seems to be that of the treasury.”

  “Figured.” Miranda stepped back from the door, made two steps to a side and flung the steel sphere of Scitalis into the door. The steel of the door bent in upon impact. She walked six steps right and smashed her weapon into another spot. Two hits later, she approached the lock, drew her dagger and rammed it into the lock’s mechanism. A loud click echoed through the room and the door unlocked.

  Miranda pushed the door open. Beyond lay a massive treasury filled with gold and precious gems. “Fortify the place up, we wait here for when the battle ends,” she commanded. The soldiers moved in to build makeshift barricades.

  Nashimaeal turned to her with a pleasant smile. “You may go.”

  Miranda shook her head. “Lucas said I can’t leave you.”

  “We are in a well-fortified position, so I will be fine, but you appear to want to explode if you do not murder someone within the next minute. Worry not, for I shall deal with Lucas later.”

  Miranda smiled. “Thank you.” She dashed off into the hallway. The dying screams soon echoed from the corridor she turned to.

  Nashimaeal had the soldiers fortify the room in a cascade formation while he dragged a decorated chair to the middle of the room. He sat down, crossed his legs and waited.

  ***

  Collward smiled, peering down at Lucas from his throne. “I am honored you have come to face me yourself.”

  “I deemed it appropriate.” Lucas advanced among the statues depicting a variety of beasts, men, and monsters.

  “Appropriate, yet foolish.” Collward raised his arms. “You are a mere shadow of who you used to be.”

  Without any warning, a colossal golem statue shot out a hand in a punch, coming to life. Lucas leapt backward and then ducked as a statue of a winged woman swept at his head with her claws from his rear. The golem stepped in for a rock-smashing blow. Lucas soulstepped to the winged woman, caught her by the wing and spun mid-air, throwing her toward the golem’s fist. The golem smashed the statue to bits. Wood, metal, and crystals sprayed out from the shattered figure.

  Lucas frowned. Painted to look like statues, but made of wood, iron and artificial flesh. These were puppets. There were eighteen of them, and then there was Collward himself. This was not going to be as trivial as he had hoped.

  A puppet of a man wielding a sword charged at Lucas, slashing at his back. Lucas spun, parried with his spear and stabbed the puppet into the thigh.

  Crystal splinters shot out from the wound, and the puppet’s leg went limp. Meanwhile, the golem puppet withdrew its arm and struck once more. Lucas soulstepped away from the attack, bringing himself behind the swordsman puppet. He ran his spear through the puppet’s neck and then through the shoulders.

  Collward pursed his lips. “I see you have come prepared.”

  Lucas’ face twisted with annoyance. He had no desire of fighting the puppets, but without knowing how many could Collward control at the same time, he had to. Lucas leapt away from the golem puppet’s next punch.

  A p
uppet of a man with a bow drew an arrow and shot at Lucas’ chest. He soulstepped behind the puppet and severed its head with a sweeping strike.

  Edward arched an eyebrow while a puppet of a bear charged at Lucas. “Not going to attack me straight?”

  “We both know that’s a trap.” Lucas dodged another strike of the golem puppet and weaved from the swipe of the bear puppet.

  He whirled to shatter the bear’s knee. The bear statue imploded into itself, turning into an orb of golden energy within an instant. Lucas flicked his wrist and the golden globe soulstepped to the face of the golem puppet. The orb exploded into bright golden light, shattering the head.

  Collward’s eyes narrowed. “You have refined your art to perfection. Sate my curiosity, did you think I wouldn’t notice how you dodge every attack I throw at you?”

  Lucas furrowed his brows. Yes, he had to dodge attacks since human bodies were so annoyingly fragile.

  Puppets of a panther and of a spider stepped out. The spider puppet shot out a large web. Lucas soulstepped the web mid-flight, making it catch the panther puppet. He soulstepped behind the spider puppet and stabbed its midsection, shattering the main crystal hidden inside. The panther puppet failed to shake the web. A single stab of Lucas released it from its misery.

  Collward sighed and activated the puppets of a minotaur and a giant eagle. “Why are you doing this? What drives you?”

  “I have something I need to achieve.” Lucas soulstepped to the side of the minotaur puppet, stabbed through its knee, soulstepped to the other side and shattered its neck. The eagle descended upon him. Lucas whirled, soulstepped above the eagle and crushed its head with a kick.

  Collward activated two more puppets. “You wouldn’t have done this for yourself. For who then? You were the most selfless of us all, so who do you fight for?”

  Lucas ignored him and turned the puppets into rubble within but a moment.