by Kala Merseal
Aeskrius’s gaze hardened. He reached forward but shifted at the last second to avoid another sword curving for his limb.
Cirith lunged again. Aeskrius dropped Raethin to defend himself from the Guardian. Cirith’s golden blade vibrated with pulsating energy and singed ashen skin as it nicked across the demon’s chest.
The demon hissed, baring his teeth as he pulled his cursed blade from the sheath between his wings.
“Go back inside, Rae,” Cirith snapped, squaring his shoulders. His grip tightened on the hilt, shifting to lung for the Kaevari once more.
Raethin hesitated, his own sword poised to attack. They shifted around the Kaevari, their swords glinting with magick where the demon sword shivered with shadow.
No, he would not go inside. Maybe Cirith was right.
He and Raethin could wear down Aeskrius and kill him.
His sword glinted as he shifted. Ignoring Cirith’s protest, he lunged, arching his blade across. When it did not land on flesh, Raethin maneuvered the blade above and arched once more. Shadows warped the Kaevari and as Raethin’s speed of attacks increased, he continued to meet air and dark mist.
Cirith followed suit, his protest forgotten as he partnered with Raethin to attack the Kaevari. Still, their illuminating blades met shadow, even as they managed to back the demon away from the ward.
Aeskrius twisted out of reach, his body dissolving into black mist. His wings pumped in the air and when the shadows dispersed, he crouched on a large branch. His wings spread wide as he leered.
“We can wait,” Raethin snapped as he squared his feet. He met Cirith’s eyes and frowned as the Guardian nodded and sheathed his sword.
In a blaze of light, the Guardian’s body contorted and grew. Cream fur sprouted, his face elongated, and horns protruded from his skull. Tails collapsed out from the glow as the Guardian dropped to the ground and in seconds, Rasilvanor stood in Cirith’s place. Even standing on all fours, he stood two or three feet taller than Raethin.
Aeskrius grinned.
His shadows moved, cloaking him in darkness as he darted down from the tree. Cirith lunged, his massive canine body charging for Aeskrius as he plummeted with talons drawn. But the shadows dispersed around the Great Spirit and Cirith’s great claws met air and dirt.
Instead, the demon twisted for Raethin. The elf charged, swinging his blade to meet Aeskrius’s talons straight-on, but again the shadows shifted, and metal met shadow.
Talons dug into Raethin’s shoulder, slicing and coming out through muscle. Golden blood splashed against trees. Raethin staggered, clutching his shoulder, as his stare darted around to catching the shadow demon as Aeskrius moved away.
Yards away, by the ward, the demon solidified out of the shadow. His hand covered in gleaming gold; he pressed his wet palm against the barrier surface.
It shivered against the touch, but unlike before it did not singe and spark. For a moment, the liquid surface reverberated.
Druids shouted in alarm as the ward’s dome dissolved from the top.
Cirith and Raethin froze in shock, paling as the ward dissolved to mist.
Aeskrius grinned as demons descended upon the fortress.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Within minutes, blazing lights of magick burst throughout the fortress as druid mages attacked the descending demons. The sky above streaked with dark bodies, hundreds—even thousands—as the demonic horde fell over the druids’ home. Screeches of pain echoed shouts of war as druids skewered demons with swords and magick.
When the barrier dissolved, Aeskrius took off towards the center of the keep. His wings carried him overhead, out of reach of warriors. Archers tried to shoot him down, but their arrows met air and shadow, cutting through trees instead.
Cirith and Raethin bounded after him. Cirith’s massive canine body was quicker than he appeared, leaping unto the bridge’s ledge and around the druid warriors. He leapt up, his jaws clamping around Aeskrius’s taloned foot and brought the horned demon down to the stone bridge.
Raethin ran toward them, no longer clutching his shoulder. The skin began to stitch together, his body healing the wound caused by Aeskrius. Solas and other druids flanked Raethin as they followed Cirith. Most druids by the descending demonic horde, already spilling black blood. But when one demon fell, two filled its place.
Aeskrius slashed his dark talons across Cirith’s muzzle, scoring deep golden marks through his fur. He snarled, clamping his fangs further into his foot, and twisted, pulling at its tendons.
Shrieking, Aeskrius curled over Cirith as he dug further into the demon’s body. His talons bore into fur, drawing golden blood that pooled heavily through the punctured wounds. Cirith held fast, light pulsating from his center as he worked to incapacitate the Kaevari.
Bone-white fangs flashed as Aeskrius sliced for Cirith’s neck, digging his teeth deep through fur.
Solas and Raethin attacked, carving their swords across Aeskrius’s wings. The demon shivered against the blows, but held fast, drowning in pooling golden blood.
Cirith’s hold slackened. His breathing labored.
Raethin shifted and lunged, driving his sword deep into Aeskrius’s side. It speared him through, and the demon let go of Cirith, roaring in pain.
His arm swung out, talon clipping Raethin across the face. He flung backward, slamming into hard stone, and crumbled. Pounding radiated throughout his skull as his body endured the rolling aches.
Cirith’s jaws let go of Aeskrius’s foot, shaking the demon off him as he staggered to his paws. The Kaevari shifted to his feet, his focus now on Solas and druid warriors that circled around him. Crimson gleamed as Aeskrius observed the surrounding bodies, then his eyes narrowed in on Raethin as the elf stood from the blow.
Cirith recovered quickly, though gold liquid still peppered the stone under him. He stood on his four paws, circling behind the demon as Aeskrius scrutinized.
“How much longer will you all hold out?” Aeskrius groused in disdain. “I will not hesitate to kill and devour every last one of you miserable souls.”
“We will hold out until dawn if we must,” Cirith said, his voice stirring confidence in his warriors. They straightened their shoulders and squared their swords, ready to attack within any second.
Aeskrius rolled his eyes. “How chivalrous. I have thousands of demons descending on your keep. Look at your people, defending their powerless within your inner building.”
Disinterested, the horned demon prodded at the healing wound in his side and casted a furious look toward Raethin.
“Weak and pathetic,” Aeskrius hissed through bared teeth. “I shall raze you all to dust. The Void will rise over this realm and consume it whole.”
Cirith lunged, his claws slicing through the thin, webbed skin of Aeskrius’s wings. His bony appendages swiped out, slamming into Cirith as he turned and bore his talons across Cirith’s canine face.
Raethin jumped forward, slicing at Aeskrius’s side. His blade nicked ashen skin, black blood pooling quickly from the gash. Aeskrius swung his arm out but Raethin dodged this time, sliding under his limb and ramming his blade through the demon’s leg.
Grunting, Aeskrius turned on Raethin. A wing clipped Raethin’s shoulder but he held fast, twisting the blade deeper into Aeskrius’s leg. Talons dug into his arms, trying to wrench him away from the sword, but his strength held.
Raethin met Aeskrius’s furious eyes and smiled.
Shadows pulsed, putrid scents filling the air around. A miasma leaked from Aeskrius, drenching the area in shadow. Soon only crimson eyes stuck out through the darkness. A fist slammed into his cheek. Raethin fell backwards, his hand fumbling away from his sword.
More claws scraped over him. Demons swarmed and screams filled the air. Soon, the russet scent of blood joined the putrid fragrance.
“Hells,” Raethin breathed as he shoved and swatted the claws away. He vaulted to his feet, shoving past bodies as he shoved his way through the darkness.
Sma
ll tendrils of light beamed through the shadow, pulling Raethin’s focus to it. He saw Cirith, lunging and swiping at Aeskrius as the horned Kaevari tried to take flight.
Golden eyes met each other. Through the air, Cirith’s voice drifted to Raethin.
“Get Ara and run.”
Raethin turned on his heels and fled toward the keep, shoving past bodies, and sliding across bloodied ground. He quickly found himself out of the shadowed fog, able to breath, and paused briefly when he took in the new scene.
Bodies littered the ground, both druid and demon alike. Still warriors and mages fought as more demons descended from the sky.
Raethin ran further into the keep, vaulting over bodies. He saw Vilithian, the elder’s magick beaming through dozens of demons, piercing holes through the blanket of black masses dominating the sky.
Druids surrounded the keep, lined around the walls to defend. Shimmering wards projected outward from them, their hands shaking under the weight of demons slamming into the barriers.
One druid saw Raethin running toward them and shouted. Drawing closer, a piece of the barrier around the druid dissolved, and within seconds Raethin dove for the opening, crashing into druids behind the deflecting mages.
Hands tugged on him as Raethin shoved to his feet. Multiple druids urged him inside, whispers of prayers and worried questions overshadowing the loud crescendos of battle behind them.
A familiar face came into view. The noise outside deafened when the doors behind him slammed shut, and a hush fell over the crowding bodies inside the foyer. Bieva stood, surrounded by smaller druids, and approached him.
Blood soaked Raethin, a collage of emerald, gold, and black. The stench wafting off him was now overwhelming. He refrained from gagging as he asked Bieva to lead him to Ara.
“I’ll get you some change of clothes.” The druidess grabbed Raethin by the arm and towed him down the stairs. Even underground, druids filled the space. They shuffled past cloisters of young druids and their older siblings tending to them.
Surprisingly, their solemnity and tranquility unnerved Raethin. He had expected them to cry and panic, much like when Verisca was under-siege. But there was a collective serenity with the druids that Raethin imagined was a gift of their goddess, even in the babes.
“I’ll be back with clothes and supplies.” Bieva left him at the shrine’s entrance.
Inside, the chamber was scarce of people. Ara sat on a bench beside the statue and Rakeva’s altar. Nyphelia clutched her like a child, gripping the princess’s arm to her. The princess accepted the embrace, a distant look in her eyes as she waited.
When they heard Raethin enter the room, Ara stood and ran to him, gaping at his bloodied appearance. She stilled when she saw gold underneath the black and emerald blood and prodded the now-healed wound.
“What happened?” She asked, eyes wide. “And why are you here?”
“We must go,” Raethin said instead, catching the curious look of Arlow and Max as they too stood and approached.
The lily-eyed elder sat in the middle of the room, cross-legged and eyes closed. Her head whipped up at his words, white gaze wide and unyielding.
“You must go north, Raethin,” Misandreas said. “We will keep the Kaevari at bay.”
“To Waetherea?”
The elder nodded and stood, dusting off her robes. “Go north and at the gate to the Visiel, you’ll find remains of the old province. Look for Iziran.”
“Wait. I don’t understand—”
“We knew there was a chance that Aeskrius would overpower us,” Misandreas said, her eyes glinting. “There are other refuges out there, one’s in the Visiel mountains. If Cirith told you to take Ara and run, it was because he knew he was failing.”
The others shared a look. Raethin glanced at Ara, reality washing over them like freezing rain.
Bieva returned, carrying clothes and supplies. She ignored the solemn mood and dumped the packs into Raethin’s arms.
Shock fading, Raethin stripped off the armor. The others looked away as he changed. He finished slipping on his boots and tied his sword’s sheath to his hip.
“Why didn’t Cirith tell me?” Raethin asked Misandreas.
“Maybe he didn’t want you to worry,” she mused and shrugged. “Maybe he wasn’t sure.”
“Go on,” Bieva said, interrupting the debate. “Don’t waste time.”
“We will see you soon,” Max said, pulling Raethin into a tight hug. “We discussed it with Misandreas, and once things clear up, we will be making a trip to the Visiel province with Cirith.”
“Then I look forward to seeing you all alive and well,” Raethin said.
Ara shared her goodbyes to the others before Bieva led them out of the shrine. Raethin’s hand had grabbed Ara’s, his grip tight. The druidess led them up the stairs to the council’s floor. Instead of turning into the council chamber, they continued down the hall. They traveled down several steps of stairs until the keep emptied out onto a cliff, overseeing the valleys below. The sound of battle drifted on the winds from above, the only noise made as the creatures of the valleys hid from the chaos.
Bieva pointed down the path that spiraled across raised platforms, leading upward and north of the keep. “Follow that and it’ll take you outside of the fortress. Don’t look back.”
The druidess left and Raethin and Ara walked down the path, quiet and rigid and their hands clasped tightly. No creature followed them as they crossed into the forest. Silence settled over them, both terrified to make any more noises. But minutes passed as they walked, and slowly as they gained distance from the fortress, Raethin’s grip on Ara’s hand tightened.
He tried to let go of her when she gripped his fingers and pulled.
Raethin glanced at her, frowning as she turned to him.
“Will we be back?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. Trepidation filled his stomach as they continued, their footsteps dulled against the soft forest ground. “We must go forward, Ara. If Misandreas and the others know of a group that will take us in, then we shouldn’t rest until we do.”
“The Visiel province and its mountains are days away,” Ara said, her voice tinged with panic. “How are we going to find it before the demons catch up?”
“We’ll be discreet and quiet.”
With that, Ara fell silent, his reply a reminder that they were out of the worst of it yet.
Time stretched as they continued in silence. Ara struggled to see in the dark but Raethin could see perfectly. He noted how she blushed when she glanced at their joined hands and how she peered at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. Underneath the solemnity and panic, a feeling flustered in his chest, unusual and vague.
His fingers flexed around hers. Ara blushed again, then stumbled, halting their progression. Raethin turned to her, about to question why she stopped, when Ara interrupted him.
“Rae,” Ara breathed, timid and gentle as she deliberated her words. “I thank the gods that you are with me now. I pray that the others are okay but I’m so thankful that we have made it out.”
His heart thundered as Ara hesitated. Her eyes darted around the forest before settling on him again.
“I’ve thought a lot about it and,” Ara paused again, swallowing. “I want to let you know that I like you. I’m sorry for the animosity we had before but that’s because I didn’t let myself try to accept you.”
Ara went quiet again and Raethin could hear her own heart thundering in her chest. Shakily, she brushed hair out of her eyes and looked up at him.
“Ara—” Raethin stuttered when she quickly embraced him, throwing her arms around his torso.
She ducked her head into his chest, hiding her blush, and said, “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”
Swallowing, Raethin slowly nodded. His body slackened as his arms snaked around her. They stood there for a moment before Ara let go and began walking again.
Ara avoided his eyes as she said, “Sorry, I d
idn’t want to hold us up any longer.”
Raethin nodded and they went silent again, walking side-by-side in the dark forest.
A few minutes past as they continued. Then cold dread speared Raethin’s stomach. He halted, gripping Ara’s arm as he pulled her to his side.
His ears picked up movement. He turned around, trying to find the direction. The area darkened drastically when black wings blocked out the moonlight.
A body vaulted from the sky, landing yards behind them. Dirt and leaves swirled up in the gust, then settled to the ground.
Slowly, Aeskrius stood, his wings shivering as they curled into his back. Moonlight illuminated his words, slick ink shining across his body. Gold splattered him, along with sticky emerald. His face was slick with gold and black, eyes blazing with fury
Ara clung to Raethin’s back as he squared his feet and unsheathed his sword. Her hand fumbled for his, gripping his fingers tightly. Their hearts thundered, hers in terror and his in anticipation.
“You took Cirith’s advice and ran off with her,”
Aeskrius ground out his words through clenched teeth. “Neither of you expected that I would catch up before dawn.”
“So, what now?” Raethin questioned, his body tense. He slowly let go of Ara, watching Aeskrius carefully as he positioned himself to hide Ara’s small frame behind him.
“I kill you and take her.” Stained fangs flashed.
Raethin lunged, sword blazing with magick as he vaulted toward Aeskrius. The demon twisted to avoid the attack but Raethin had feigned his strike and twisted the blade for an upper cut across Aeskrius’s torso.
The demon’s body distorted with shadow as he narrowly avoided the brunt of the attack. The blade’s edge sliced a thin line across ashen skin, black blood splashing across the forest as Raethin whirled away from Aeskrius.
He flicked the blade of blood and squared toward the demon, who prodded the cut.
“You are lucky, Raethin,” Aeskrius groused as he wiped his blood on his pants. “Cirith wore me down. You may be lucky enough to mortally wound me. It’ll feel sweet, to be so close to defeating me.”
