The Nesilia's War Trilogy: (Buried Goddess Saga Box Set: Books 4-6)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  He could also perceive the distant cries to “hold the walls” and “fight to the last breath.” Sir Mulliner was a capable commander, but there was no holding back the tide of her horde. Eventually, it’d break through.

  Torsten returned his focus to Whitney and said, “If Rand gets his sister to reject her, and we’re not ready—“

  “She’ll kill us all and take back the body she treasured,” Sora finished for him. She gazed sullenly down at her own hands as if picturing the blood that stained them while Nesilia was in control.

  “I won’t let that happen,” Whitney said. “Never.”

  “That’s not up to you,” Torsten snapped.

  “No, it isn’t,” said a voice from the door behind the Royal Council chairs.

  All their eyes snapped up to see Dellbar, strolling across the dais. He tapped along with his cane, calm as ever. His head turned from side to side as though he could see the slaughter throughout the room.

  “Dellbar, where have you been?” Torsten questioned.

  “Waiting. Until the time was right,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Yeah, what he said,” Whitney added, puffing out his chest.

  Dellbar strode by Whitney like he wasn’t even there. He stopped beside Nesilia, empty eye-sockets set upon her.

  “The bar guai would have failed,” he said. “There was no light in it. She would have broken free in moments, with the help of this upyr or not.”

  “Hey, you weren’t there!” Whitney jabbed a finger, clearly forgetting his hand was injured. His face corkscrewed in pain, but he didn’t back down. “If we’d stopped her then, all those people out there would still be alive. They’d all be alive!”

  Dellbar rested his hand upon Whitney’s shoulder. “No, there was nothing you could’ve done,” he said softly. Then he moved around in front of Nesilia. “This is the moment it was always meant to be. Iam’s great mistake, redeemed by the unbreakable love of those born into the darkness of this world.”

  “Dellbar, now isn’t the time for your riddles,” Torsten said, his arms growing weak from supporting Lucindur’s. She wasn’t heavy, far from it, but in her state, her entire body felt like dead weight.

  “I often asked myself why Iam chose me when I cursed Him so,” Dellbar said. “Now I know. That is His truth. The darkness cannot exist without the light, and so too, can it not die. So long as she remained buried, the feud endured. Now, it shall end, and this land of Pantego will finally be left in the hands of men.”

  A fiendish shout sounded above. Torsten looked up and saw a goblin skittering in through the broken spire. One, then two, then so many more. They hurled rocks and shot their poison darts as they crawled down the walls, many of them falling to their deaths as pieces broke away under their combined weight. More grimaurs joined them, squawking like vultures over corpses.

  Sora quickly jumped forward and raised her arm. Fire arced from it, but not as a weapon. The very flames Torsten had watched destroy so much formed a protective shield over them, vaporizing all the projectiles before they could hit.

  Her limbs all shook. Blood leaked from her nose.

  A deafening roar was followed by a crash of stone. One giant tentacle broke through the ceiling, slithering down with the other beasts, followed by another—all Nesilia’s enslaved monsters abandoning the war to protect her.

  The barks and growls of hellhounds emanated from the back entrance leading to the castle undercroft and the destroyed crypts.

  “Do something, you rambling fool!” Whitney shouted.

  Dellbar dropped his cane, then closed his hands around Nesilia’s, both sets covering the Brike Stone. He whispered under his breath, and with all the racket of creatures closing in around them, Torsten couldn’t understand the words—only see the way his mouth formed Iam’s name.

  Nesilia twitched again, stronger this time. Dellbar held tight, and that same aura that formed around the brave priests outside formed around him. It swirled over their hands, mixing with the darkness of the Brike Stone. His empty eye-sockets turned to light like they had on the fields of White Bridge when Iam took over his body.

  The air started to tingle. Everything shook. Sora screamed as she pushed her powers to the brink, her fiery shield pushing outward to repel falling goblins and diving grimaurs. The hounds scampered through the door and charged. Tum Tum hobbled forward on his injured leg and smashed one in the head with his hammer, then engaged another.

  The wianu shattered the glass spire completely, and more tentacles thrashed in as its soulless eyes and terrifying maw appeared above.

  Rand and Lucindur gasped at the same time. The latter’s body fell limp in Torsten’s arm, her hand slipping down, and she stopped playing for a moment. He feared the end had come. Then, a ghostly presence rose from the bosom of Sigrid’s body. The shape of a women’s face formed.

  “You will not take this world from me, Iam!” Nesilia roared, now without any of Sigrid’s voice in her own. It was all-encompassing, making even the roar of the wianu seem small and harmless.

  “None of you will!” she went on. “Pantego is mine. You are all mine.”

  Sora was forced to her knees as more creatures, including the wianu, crashed upon her shield. It seared and burned, but slipped down to ground level. Some of its tentacles still gripped the ceiling, casting them all in shadow, closing in around them, one slowly wrapping Sigrid and Dellbar themselves.

  “No,” Dellbar replied. This time, it wasn’t his voice. It was Iam again, Torsten was sure of it. “It’s time for rest, my love. We’ve failed each other for far too long.”

  Light burst from the Brike Stone, forcing everyone but Torsten to shield their eyes. His blessed sight allowed him to see through it. Nesilia screamed in protest as her essence was drawn into the stone. Dellbar’s eyeholes dimmed, and he collapsed to his knees.

  Sigrid awoke, and in a matter of seconds, she sliced the wianu’s tentacle off. The monster squealed and pulled back, not just to the hole above, but it fled like a frightened calf. The sea monster seemed intelligent, and now it was proven. It retreated before its own master could be fed to it and destroyed.

  The other beasts didn’t have the chance. Sigrid zipped around the room like a bolt of lightning, cutting them to ribbons until she stood in the center, panting like a wild animal with bodies falling around her. Her dark eyes darted around, confused, as if piecing together the world for the very first time.

  “Siggy,” Rand rasped. He scrambled to his feet and ran to her, holding her at arm’s length. “You’re here, sister. You’re with me.”

  Torsten gently rolled Lucindur off him and laid her head down. The exertion had left her unconscious, but she was breathing. Whitney helped hold Sora upright, but Torsten raced past them to Dellbar. The High Priest held the Brike Stone with two hands, and the blood-red stone now glowed brightly enough to paint the entire room that way. Torsten couldn’t perceive color well, but this could not be mistaken.

  The stone churned violently. Dellbar could barely keep hold of it, but light funneled through his hands, sapping the color from his cheeks as it did. Killing him, Torsten realized. Nesilia’s whispers filled the air around it, unclear, but laced with temptation. The thought of breaking her free even crossed Torsten’s mind. He couldn’t help it.

  “Iam saved what little power in Pantego He had left for this,” Dellbar groaned. “I can hold her, but not for long.”

  Torsten glanced up as the last of the wianu’s tentacles receded. “The wianu. We have to get to one. They’re fleeing to the water.”

  “Then we catch up to one,” Whitney said, matter-of-factly.

  “How?”

  “Have some faith,” Whitney said.

  “He’s right,” Sora said. “Faith that Mahraveh was able to slow them down.”

  “We have to move fast,” Torsten said. At that, an idea popped into his head. He helped Dellbar up, battling the swell of dark thoughts that came just by touching him. H
e led him toward Rand and his sister. “Sigrid, you’re faster than any of us. Take him to the inlet. End this.”

  “No way,” Sora protested. “We can’t trust her. I saw in their minds… they both, wanted this.”

  “Do it for Kazimir,” Whitney said. “Finish what he started.”

  Rand continued to hold her as her gaze passed across each of them. Her breathing started to slow.

  “Sigrid, can you hear them?” Rand asked. “Can you hear me?”

  “I can,” she replied. “And I don’t want any of their redemption.”

  “Siggy?”

  “I’m done fightin.” She seized Rand by the sides, looked straight into Torsten’s face, and then, they were gone in a wisp of dust.

  Whitney spun around, searching. “I hate when they do that.”

  “We’ll take the priest ourselves,” Sora said. “A horse. Torsten, we need a horse.”

  Torsten stared at Sigrid and Rand’s bloody footprints.

  “Torsten!”

  He forced himself to focus. “The stables, there should still be some. Let’s go.” He placed his hand on the small of Dellbar’s back and guided him along.

  “I’ll only slow ye down,” Tum Tum said, still holding his wounded leg. “I’ll stay with Lucy and the brave little wyvern.” Aquira looked up at him with naught but her eyes.

  “Scared of another fight?” Whitney asked as he retrieved one of his daggers and spun it on one finger.

  “Whitney,” Sora scolded, picking up her shortsword.

  “Oh, he knows I’m kidding. That, right there, is the bravest dwarf I’ve ever known.”

  “And ye, the most dastardly thief,” Tum Tum said, grinning.

  They caught up to Torsten, and together, the same group that went traipsing through the Webbed Woods after Redstar and Bliss led Dellbar across the Throne Room. Soldiers at the castle gates were preparing to barricade it. Never a good sign.

  Outside in the court, madness awaited. Uhlvark had his back against the gate, being rammed on the other side by something powerful. The simpleton looked terrified, no idea how strong he was. Archers on the walls fired off. Soldiers defended them against Drav Cra, remaining possessed, and monsters using rooftops in an attempt to leap over the walls. Some made it into the courtyard and rampaged around, but were quickly put down.

  Beyond those castle walls, the entire city glowed from fire. Smoke commingled in the sky like a second set of low, dark clouds. To the south, the fortifications were ruptured. The hole looked like it had been caused by something the size of a wianu. Enemy Shesaitju warriors poured through, and Sir Mulliner was there with Sir Hystad leading a ground force in defense. Horses in the nearby stables whinnied and cried.

  “There,” Torsten said, pointing. “Go and get him on a horse.”

  “What about you?” Whitney asked.

  “I’m going to clear us a path.” He grasped Whitney’s arm. “No matter what happens, you are worthy of your name, Whitney Godskiller.” He turned to Sora. “And you, Sora. Whatever you were to Liam, he’d be proud of you today.”

  “I hate when you get mushy,” Whitney said, fake-wiping his eyes.

  “Go!” Torsten shoved Dellbar at them, and they ran across the chaotic courtyard. As they sprinted, Torsten heard a strange horn ringing, its tenor deep and cavernous like the depths of the earth.

  He took off toward the gate first, and all the soldiers defending it.

  “Uhlvark!” he shouted. “Uhlvark!”

  The giant was too terrified to display his usual glee upon seeing a friend. His full weight held the gates closed, but every time it was rammed, spears stabbed through the opening and cut at him.

  “Uhlvark, I need you to abandon the gate, and go with Dellbar again.” Torsten pointed to Whitney and Sora, who were taking far too much time getting Dellbar onto a mount.

  “But, protect gaaaaate,” he said, then moaned as the gate lurched, and his thigh was stabbed before he and all the men pushing resealed it.

  “You did such a great job,” Torsten commended. “Now, they need you to be a hero.”

  “Herooo?”

  “The very biggest. Go, Uhlvark. Your friend needs you now more than ever.”

  “I will help.”

  Soldiers protested as he pushed off and limped across the courtyard. More men flowed to take his place, but it wouldn’t last long with the giant absent.

  Torsten didn’t wait to find out. He raced for the stairs, and a Drav Cra vaulted toward him, earning an elbow across his jaw. Stealing the man’s axe to replace Salvation, Torsten kept going. Adrenaline helped him push his legs up the stairs. He ducked under another attack from a Glass soldier that was possessed, then bashed him in the face with the axe-handle.

  The horn sounded again. Torsten pushed past an archer, reached the parapet, and leaned over. Nesilia’s horde filled the city, rampaging through buildings, dragging out innocents, slaughtering anyone, and anything. But that’s not where the horn came from.

  A new army massed outside the walls of Yarrington. A blade of moonlight pierced the clouds, illuminating a part of them and allowing Torsten to see the sigil of the Three Kingdoms. Brouben was in their lead, his axe raised high as they began their charge.

  Drav Cra horns sounded in response. A large portion of Nesilia’s army rushed to the main gates to greet them, drawing soldiers away from the path leading to Dockside. The rest continued assaulting the keep.

  “The dwarves stand with us!” Torsten bellowed. “Stand strong, warriors of Iam. The end does not come for us today. Archers, every one of you, focus on the east. Clear a path to the harbor.”

  Glassmen all around him cheered. The archers in towers and who weren’t busy brawling all followed his command. Sir Mulliner called for a shield push, and Torsten gripped his new axe tight.

  “For Yarrington!”

  The Thief

  C’mon, let’s get him up,” Whitney said frantically. It was bad enough that they were in a rush to catch a wianu before Dellbar lost his control over Nesilia, but the clamor of battle raged all around them... It was disorienting.

  He and Sora cupped Dellbar’s foot and helped him onto a horse that Sora was somehow able to calm despite the madness.

  “Yigging Exile!” Whitney helped, grasping at his hand. He kept forgetting there was a hole through it. For whatever reason, it didn’t hurt as much as it should have until he used it.

  “Here, give me that,” Sora said. She took his hand and lowered her head. She looked exhausted. Beautiful, but exhausted. Dark rings circled her eyes, and her own hands trembled as a bluish smoke snaked out from them, filling in Whitney’s wound. The skin started to stitch itself over, and Sora would have fallen if Whitney hadn’t supported her in return. She’d never used her power so much in so short a time.

  “Sora,” Whitney said. She didn’t answer. His hand stopped healing, but she remained hunched over it, wheezing. “Sora,” he repeated, this time rubbing her cheek with his thumb. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She exhaled.

  “You’re not. Hey, look at me.” He lifted her chin and tried to get her to make eye-contact, but her amber-hued beauties refused to focus. “Sora, I can handle this.”

  “Just get on the horse.”

  “Sora, please.”

  “We’re ending this!” she yelled, throwing her arms down. A gust of wind that was in no way natural heaved Whitney up, leaving him no choice but to grasp for the mane of the—once again—terrified horse. Sora jumped up after him, sandwiching Dellbar between them.

  Whitney felt the Brike Stone against his back, saw all the myriad ways they could fail and die. He even thought he heard Nesilia whispering promises like how she’d “give him everything he’d ever wanted.” How she’d “make him a king.” And the stone itself made him both hot and cold at the same time, confusing his body in ways that made no sense.

  “Cut it free!” Sora shouted.

  Whitney could hardly hear her over the sudden bellow of horns a
long with shouting from both armies. He fumbled for his dagger, then slashed the rope hitching the horse. It bucked hard, nearly throwing him off, but he clenched tight and leaned to its ear.

  “You’re okay, girl,” he whispered. “You’re okay.” The horse neighed and thrashed, knocking over a bucket of feed as it rumbled out into the courtyard. A goblin charging them earned the wrong end of the horse’s hooves.

  “Shh,” Whitney hushed, stroking its mane. “You get to help us save the world.”

  “When you are calm, so too will it be,” Dellbar whispered. His voice was tinged with Nesilia’s, and he groaned after speaking.

  Whitney closed his eyes and focused on what he desired more than anything: an end to the fighting and adventuring. On that note, he understood why that devil, Sigrid, fled instead of helping them. Against all odds, he wished for the peaceful life of Troborough’s farms and rolling hills, owning a little house with Sora, maybe a tavern. Perhaps they could raise a kid together and watch out for it like neither Whitney or Sora’s parents had ever done.

  Even the Brike Stone couldn’t taint the vision. It had been Exile for Whitney in Elsewhere, and now it was the life he craved, that simple existence he’d fled for so long.

  He exhaled and re-opened his eyes.

  Now that the horse was steady, Sora shouted at him to get moving.

  “Hold your horses!” he joked, then gave the thing a kick, and it bounded toward the break in the wall. He guided it to where Sir Mulliner was barking orders at the rear of a line of soldiers holding back invaders.

  “Sir Mulligan, right?” he called.

  The Shieldsman looked up through messy, bloody hair. “It’s Mulli—doesn’t matter. We can’t hold them off without every sword. Get down here and start fighting, thief!”

  Whitney ignored the insult. There wasn’t time to put the rigid Shieldsman in his place. “The priest has Nesilia,” he said. The Shieldsman gave him a questioning look that Whitney ignored. “We have to get to the wianu quickly.”