Rituals

by Ryan Hastings

  Ilsoluum was present in a projection of his eternal form while Bol’rel, Miri’el, and Kush’hera were present in far more tangible manners. Kush’hera, about the same size of her own stormdrakes, was a feathered dragon. Her majestic appearance and sheer power more than made up for something as insignificant as her being a fraction the size of her Celestial kin.

  During the rebellion, Kush’hera would even aid Raey in subduing their brother, who had been severely poisoned by the enemy. Deth laid waste to a quarter of the first kingdom’s population, which included a landmass larger than any of the remaining continents. The elements, themselves, nearly destroyed Harth’s atmosphere in those struggles. Zan’kar, the first kingdom, would never be the same after that first battle.

  But, I digress . . .

  The Celestial’s feathers were deep violet, and her scales were pearlescent black. She was adorned with gold ornaments and gems and had claws of ebon steel. Orbs of wind and lightning were like a halo around her. Her lime-jade eyes could see for endless horizons. Her underbelly was gold; and the end of her tail was of bushy, multi-colored feathers.

  “The marked souls cannot be ignored,” Ilsoluum stated firmly. “They MUST be solidified as allies. We have the means for such. Their presence could mean victory for those already leaving the capital fortress.” “Do you forget their complacency with the very enemy of existence,” Bol’rel replied casually. “What choice did they have, brother?” Miri’el pleaded. “You know that Dom’rel would’ve gotten what he wanted, regardless.”

  “I must agree with Miri’el,” Kush’hera said calmly, sharpening her claws on the obsidian stone. “Of course, you would,” Bol’rel sighed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Miri’el inquired sternly. “Say the word, second-born, and I’ll have the two travelers dead within the hour,” Kush’hera remarked professionally.

  “Was it not prophecy that the devil’s children, as delivered through Fia and Sahja, would be born unto this world, or for that matter, any other mother Dom’rel would find?” Ilsoluum asked rhetorically. “Humans are wicked and complex beings,” Bol’rel said. “Even a purification of this magnitude could fail to penetrate every harborage that darkness finds in them.” “How can you be so disregarding of the human spirit?” Miri’el demanded.

  “For a gamble, we lose another presence on the world,” Bol’rel replied. “You’ve seen the sort of shape I’m in here,” Ilsoluum interjected. “Anri has taken what was left of me everywhere else. The very world is becoming ill, archangel.” Miri’el, with a cute scowl on her face, stood her ground before the second-born. The glow of Bol’rel’s eyes shown through the visor of his helmet as he stared down at his sister, but he said nothing.

  “Second-born,” Kush’hera said with empathy. “I do not envy your position or task, nor do I envy the intimate battles you’ve fought over the years. I know you still see the love and kindness among humanity, because even I’ve taken the time to notice.” “You speak of love, Celestial,” Bol’rel replied, “so what then, if our solution is to sacrifice yours?” “Then, so be it,” Ilsoluum answered immediately. Kush’hera was hesitant and curious. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Ilsoluum would give up the same as our kin did in the rebellion,” Bol’rel stated plainly. “He will have to find his way back home. Are you willing to wait for such millennia?” The Celestial, feeling a sorrow in her soul, looked down at the projection of Ilsoluum.“What is a couple thousand years when compared to the infinite?” Ilsoluum remarked, laying his hand on the dragon.

  “You’re--you’re certain?” Kush’hera asked hesitantly. Ilsoluum nodded. “I’ll always find a way back to you,” he said. Kush’hera looked away and then down at the other heavenly bodies. “It really is a gamble I suppose,” she remarked quietly. “Humanity’s faith in the Light will always survive,” Ilsoluum stated confidently. “I share that faith and have faith in them as well.” “There are too many of you going rogue on me,” the archangel remarked with subtle exasperation.

  Miri’el hugged her brother, knowing the great deal of death and torment he had endured during his own existence. “Love is painful. We don’t blame you for being so hardened, brother,” she said emphatically. The archangel returned his sister’s embrace. “The lot of you be careful,” he sighed. “Swae causes me enough stress.” Miri’el agreed, nodding with a smile.

  “Kush’hera,” Bol’rel said. The Celestial perked up. “Yes, second-born?” she replied. “Our brother is in De’gra,” the archangel stated. “Perhaps you could rendezvous with him at the second wall.” The Celestial dragon bowed in respect. “Your command is an echo of the Light. I will surely meet with him there,” she replied with utter dignity.

  The archangel turned to Miri’el, who stood at attention for some reason. Bol’rel laid his hand on her shoulder. “I understand why you did what you did, but please don’t be so impulsive next time,” he remarked. “It wasn’t completely impulse,” Miri’el defended innocently. Bol’rel turned to the guardian. “Ilsoluum, I expect you to be returned before this matter is ultimately settled,” he declared.

  “The pastures of Eternity will be a beacon, comrade,” the guardian replied robustly. “Perhaps this is at least an excuse for my beloved to enjoy her draconic form for a bit longer,” he added.

  CHAPTER NINE

  What is a City?

  Roju and Kosho were still asleep on the floor of the cottage while Sahja and Fia sat outside in the favorable morning weather. The two watched as roughly two dozen more people passed by, heading to adjacent plots of land and even farther. There was enough light to see some of the folk wave as they passed by, so Sahja and Fia would always wave back. They had enough information from their guests about what was happening. They prayed that they wouldn’t become a source of suffering for people leaving a place thought to be one of safety.

  Fia was nervous about what this could mean for Sahja, especially considering the idea that any aggressors here would end up being of mortal flesh and blood. “I really wish you didn’t worry about me so much,” Sahja remarked, with a sly glance. Fia swayed into him. “I really wish you’d quit saying that. You know that’s not going to change,” she replied. “Would it make you feel better if you were killing people with me?” he asked somewhat jokingly. “I’m your handler, right?” she replied in kind. “You think I’ll let you out of my sight? Besides, maybe it won’t come to that.”

  “Fia,” Sahja sighed, “you’ve seen this sort of thing before. This is the calm before the storm.” Rubbing her face and eyes, Fiaria leaned forward, still shaking off an amount of exhaustion. Sahja, drinking from his coffee, leaned forward. “You had so many times to bail since we’ve known each other. Why didn’t you?” he asked sincerely.

  Fia sniffled and raised her eyes. “Because I probably wouldn’t even be alive if I hadn’t met you,” she replied. “You and our friends back in Mol’do all helped save us. You have no idea how unpopular my father became because he started talking about the Light. He loved you, too, because of the change he saw in me.”

  Then, two men approached. One was a fisherman, the other a merchant. “Good morning,” the two men exclaimed happily. “Was wonderin’ if we could set up camp near that pond over there?” one asked, referring to the small body of water a couple hundred yards out. Sahja and Fia couldn’t help but smile at the man’s cheery demeanor. They both nodded.

  “I told ya!” the fisherman exclaimed to his friend. “Why the hell did you even leave the shore?” the merchant replied as they continued walking.“You should’ve just died at sea like every other aspiring angler.” “Every day is a day for fishing!” the angler replied joyfully. “You’d fish for people if you could,” the merchant sighed, continuing with his friend down the road.

  “Well, I guess the neighborhood will liven up,” Sahja joked. In general, Fiaria couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. Then, a peculiar and luminous bug came from the ground ben
eath Fia, causing her to jump back. The bug began to hop down the path and across the road, resembling the direction that they’d once taken to the enchanted grove.

  The couple watched curiously, fairly certain their assumptions about the bug were accurate. They allowed the insect to gain a fair lead before they followed down the road, so as not to arouse suspicion or look foolish walking after an insect. The two took their weapons and began the trek.

  Sure enough, the miles they walked led back to the grove where the tree line was already parted. “I’m having some really mixed feelings about this,” Fia remarked. “I think I know what you mean,” Sahja agreed. They came before the ancient earthen oak, and Ilsoluum’s aged face appeared in the bark.

  “It would seem that the two of you have drawn quite a bit of attention. Quite frankly, the idea of killing wasn’t unpopular with my kin,” the guardian remarked. Numerous nature spirits, like rainbow stars dancing in the air, were already gathering in the grove.“Good! You remembered your weapon, Fia,” Ilsoluum added. “It’s not hard to tell when someone is masking pain with humor,” Sahja remarked, “even a guardian.”

  “I’m of little use in the battles to come, bloodlion,” Ilsoluum replied. “It is no easy ordeal for a marked soul to be cleansed.” “You can remove our mark?” Fia inquired hopefully. “To put it simply, yes,” the guardian answered. A portion of the tree opened, revealing a beautiful and strange organic heart. It glowed with verdant light and beat as any mortal heart would. “What’re you doing?” Sahja asked hesitantly. “Your weapons must pierce my heart,” Ilsoluum declared. “Only such pure lifeblood can cleanse the darkness that clings to you.”

  Sahja and Fia stepped back in shock. “We, we can’t!” Fia exclaimed. “You’re asking us to take such a life? We would be the cause of this land’s decay.” “The times of beings on this world, such as I, are growing short, child,” Ilsoluum said. “You would simply be returning it to a more natural cycle of time.” Sahja begrudgingly drew his sword. Fia shouted at him. “SAHJA!” “Draw your bow, girl!” the guardian shouted, startling Fia. “This decision was made by high authorities. You dare question them?” Fia trembled at the thunderous voice, but she followed the guardian’s order.

  “Now, come close,” Ilsoluum said assuredly. “Plunge the blade into my heart, bloodlion. Fia, draw the dark arrow, but do not release it. You must remain a bridge for the material.” The two approached the pulsing heart with weapons drawn. “You must promise not to mourn me,” Ilsoluum stated, “for there is no need. Survive, and be stars to those wandering the night sky.”

  The two mortals agreed to the guardian’s request but spoke no words. Fiaria drew the bowstring, conjuring a projectile of necrotic energy. The two stepped close to the guardian, readying their weapons to pierce the heart. Fia’s hands were unsteady while the bloodlion kept the heavy blade as stable as ever.

  “Eyes up, child,” Ilsoluum said gently, referring to Fia, who was having a hard time looking in the guardian’s general direction. The two plunged the edges of their weapons into the verdant heart. Ilsoluum grunted, and the light-filled blood flowed freely from the punctures. As the wisps came together around them, the blood began to flow up the weapons and onto the hands of the mortals.

  The ethereal ink of the demonic tattoos began to reshape and even expand, becoming a symbol that resembled one of a guardian. At first, there was no pain, but soon the two felt as if something was being pulled from their very bones. The agony was well beyond a mortal’s threshold. Fia collapsed first from the pain and from sheer spiritual intensity of the process. The bloodlion endured even more but ultimately succumbed as well.

  As Sahja hit the ground, the grove began to become dull and even wither. Many of the spirits rested on the unconscious beings. Others simply vanished with the light of Ilsoluum’s presence on the world.

  Later that day, Enysa, A’mi, and Trova arrived at the cottage. The two ladies were happy to see the soldier that had saved them in Uhr’Erra. Trova looked around curiously. “Where are the other two?” he asked Kosho. The troll shrugged. “They be gone before we be up.” Seeming to ponder, Trova glanced out over the pastures and then hurried to the motorcycle on which he’d driven there.

  “Oye! Where ya goin’?” Kosho hollered. Trova didn’t respond. He sped off down the road. Kosho covered his mouth to avoid uttering, “Uh-oh, you going to be sick or something?” Roju asked curiously. “Nope,” the troll replied in a muffled voice.

  The bike came to a sliding halt inside the dying grove, and Trova rushed to the unconscious couple. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered. The bladedancer checked the bodies, seeing that they were at least alive. He rushed back to the bike and got a potent smelling salt from a saddle, first waving it under Sahja’s nose and then under Fia’s.

  The two came around in a daze, unfamiliar with the man before them. Trova could see enough of the tattoo on Fia that he recognized the symbol very well. The bladedancer noticed two resplendent weapons (resembling the stylings of angelic armaments) on the ground near the “corpse” of Ilsoluum.“So, that’s what it took,” he said to himself solemnly.

  “Who, who are you?” Fia asked groggily. “A friend of Kosho’s,” Trova replied. Sahja took the reclaimed sword in his hands and was awestruck by the beautiful transformation. Fiaria reacted similarly in seeing the reclaimed horn bow. They both also noticed something very different about how they felt. Even their skin seemed less pale to the eye.

  “I feel like we should say something,” Sahja remarked quietly. “I’m sure your hearts have said plenty,” Trova replied, mounting the bike and starting its engine. The bladedancer cleared some packs out of the sidecar, nodding for the other two to hop on the bike. Sahja climbed in first and Fia after him. “You seem pretty collected in light of all this,” the guardian remarked. “I’ve known Ilsoluum since I was a boy,” Trova replied cordially. “For him to take such an action warrants only honor.” With that, the motorcycle left the withered grove, which was now a still shell of what it was only hours ago.

  When they arrived back at the cottage, they were greeted by a mix of emotions. Roju took Trova aside almost immediately. Sahja kept a glance on those two, seeing Trova shove the soldier aside after a few moments. The bladedancer seemed to try to control himself but ended up driving his right hand into a wooden beam numerous times. “Friends o’ him be dyin,” Kosho remarked solemnly. “Trova lost him lots o’ people since messes started here.”

  Communications were running like a web through the Demanian countryside, as towns, encampments, and villages slowly came to life. When dusk fell on that day, Sahja found Trova spearfishing with a sleek knife tied to an ironsilk string. Sahja waved at the fisherman with whom he’d spoken earlier. The man was furiously exclaiming his lack of success compared to the man using such primitive tactics.

  Sahja handed a piece of paper to the bladedancer. “Looks like you’ve been promoted,” he said, sitting down on a stone. Trova casually tossed a flailing fish back into the water as he read the note.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Guided by Cataclysm

  Azal’el and his company came to the great lake that was due-northeast of the first great wall. The squads’ eyes grew wide when they saw a herd of thunderhorses grazing at the water’s edge. These were some of the most majestic beasts of all Harth, and they responded to the visitors in an unnaturally tame manner. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Diisu uttered. The composure of the others, with the exception of the angel, was enough to state agreement with the mage’s awe.

  The thunderhorse was a stallion that held the standard for the largest breed of steeds. Its eyes glowed white to match its snow-white fur while its mane was the color of storm clouds. Electricity was readily seen, constantly pulsing from the beast, particularly from its horn of elemental crystal. Their speed could surpass one hundred mph with ease. Beyond the use of worthy kings and generals of ancient times, they were rarely seen i
n captivity.

  There was a steed for each of the squad members, though a dozen other thunderhorses served as simple onlookers. “Have any of you ridden before?” Azal’el asked with amusement. There was a combination of “Um’s” and “Uh’s” from the squad as they inspected their respectful mounts. “Their mane is an elemental tether,” Azal’el declared as he mounted one. “Just hold on for dear life. They won’t feel a thing,” he exclaimed happily. The rest of the squad fumbled onto the beasts, taking hold of the charged fur. Azal’el took point as the others fell in behind.

  The steeds reached their peak speed, barreling through the desolate plains to their next destination. Feint storm clouds took shape and followed the war-bound horses as lighting sparked with every stamp of their hooves. The winds around the pack swirled gracefully and in every direction. The unnatural breeze was oddly tranquil to the riders.

  It only took a short hour before they could already see the second great wall and the spectacular sight that was already unfolding there. Pillars of lightning crashed down along the great wall, striking side to side evenly. The sky above was bright with electricity, lighting up the very ground like a sun. GLORIOUS! The squad cheered as they saw Kush’hera and her stormdrakes terrorizing the demons along the wall. They were even more eager to get there and join this legendary moment. HAH! AND THEY DID JUST THAT, COMRADES!

  Their horses went to attack the fiends, even after their riders had dismounted. The demons here were in utter disarray, making them nothing more than prey. Perhaps I should actually pity these abominations. Haha! In the presence of a Celestial in combat, Azal’el even regained a portion of his angelic power. The blades of his wings cleaved through crowds of the damned as lightning rode with the edges of his weapon.

  “HEY! THAT’S NOT FAIR!” Ogg shouted, pulling his axe from a meaty ghoul. “I’M AHEAD OF YOU ANYWAYS!” Mooroos hollered from above. “SO IS GENRI,” Ogg yelled with rage, increasing his onslaught. “I’m ahead of him?” Genri asked. “No,” Mooroos replied. “I still am, but I knew that’d get him going.”