by Sean J Leith
“Hah! You hear that? The beast wishes to see the Soldier of Storms! I knew Broken were stupid, but this is new. Bring him to the Lord with the others.” The Hydris’s laugh slithered and hissed, mocking Saul.
Saul was dragged along the ground, slogged down a seemingly infinite number of stone stairs. “Let me out of this net, despicable beasts!”
They simply laughed at him, spouting slithering curses and mockery in the Hydrian tongue while he was dragged down the stairs. He couldn’t count how many as his sight shifted from the sky, to stone, to men, to the dirt, unable to focus on anything for too long.
By the time they stopped, he felt the dirt ground. The net opened and Saul writhed out immediately, struggling to his feet. His back ached and his arms hurt from the stone steps. His ears rang from the beatings, but he stood as strong as he could. His arms and legs were bound, however.
The circular inner courtyard was lined with warriors wearing the same white cloaks, a sigil of an ocean blue snake on a field of cream, with long fangs painted on their steel. Innocents, eyes wide and filled with fear, lined the wall around them, with several white cloaks standing with blades pointed at captives.
An old, wrinkled Hydris with ratty white hair was tied to an elaborate wooden chair. Behind him lay a set of steps leading to a massive stone dwelling fit for the gods. The old man had a white, finely trimmed thin beard, and was clad in a velvet and magenta silk doublet with blue cloth for a lower robe. His brow was furrowed, yet eyes sullen, and every muscle in his body tensed.
“Look here, beast,” a gruff, slithery voice called. The Hydris stood with short, hunter green hair and forest green skin, with bronze piercings all along his eyebrows and his ears. He stood before four Broken that Saul recognized, including Fae. Her arm was broken, and her eyes burned with rage. “Look at what your people are. I tell you, all of you, that these people are a curse to ours. They have pushed us to the south, and now we must move north. We must not ally with them, but crush them, so they may not betray us later! I am Ithaca, the Soldier of Storms! Obey me, and we shall come into an age of freedom from tyranny, I will take my rightful throne, and move to claim what is mine from the Spire, the blade that carves the skies! My father denied me that which is rightfully mine—the Serpentarian throne. I have come to claim what is deserved, and I will bring an age of peace!”
The blade that carves the skies? He doesn’t mean—Gadora’s Edge? That’s impossible. “We never betray! That is not our way, Hydrian fool!” Saul yelled.
“Silence, you dirty Broken!” Ithaca roared.
One of the white cloaked soldiers beside Saul threw him to the ground and kicked him in the stomach. He growled in pain and attempted to catch his breath. Saul could smell the cooked flesh of men and looked past the kneeling Broken to see the blackened bodies of his other comrades.
Saul struggled in his binds, attempting to get back to his feet. The soldier beside him forced him down again.
“Now, watch as these traitorous people, who entered our great city unannounced, pay for their crimes so that we may be free!”
Ithaca raised his hands dramatically. White bolts of electricity flew out from his fingertips, meeting the bodies of Saul’s allies. Wails of agony filled the inner walls of Serpentarius, causing all within to shudder. Slowly, the screams turned to weak yelps—and soon, the other Broken subtly writhed upon the stone ground.
Saul could do nothing but watch as the electricity burned their bodies. “You weakling! Fight me without your foolish tricks! You are weak—nothing without your foolish power!” Saul yelled in desperation, hoping to provoke the despicable leader before his allies died. He felt it was too late; when the lightning faded, the bodies of his fellow Broken were black and burned. He hoped they still had a little life left.
After a brief, shocked pause, Ithaca cackled in hilarity. “You dare challenge me, beast? I am the Soldier of Storms, the Warrior of Light, the one who will unify our lands!” He calmed himself and narrowed his eyes. “Unbind him, I will slay him myself.” With a maniacle grin, he said, “I’m going to enjoy this.” Ithaca drew two long blades, one in each hand. “No one can stop a storm of steel.”
Saul was let free. Their biggest mistake. He grabbed his maul from his back and smashed it on the ground. “Nothing but a petty spit of rain.” I am strong. I can defeat him. A Broken warrior with all his limbs and armaments is unstoppable, he thought.
The other Stormwarden soldiers separated into a large circle around them, laughing at and mocking Saul. “No one challenges the god that lives! The Soldier of Storms!” The surrounding warriors chanted his words, over and over.
Saul stormed toward Ithaca, swinging his great maul round and round. The Hydris dodged backward once and again, barely staying the heavy strikes. Ithaca took a blow by the maul and toppled to the ground, but quickly kipped up and slashed at Saul’s leg. One slice made contact, cut through his greave, and drew blood. Saul staggered back, and then moved in with haste to smash him from above, but Ithaca dodged sharply and slashed Saul’s right shield arm, causing him to let go. Ithaca smacked the maul’s haft to the ground and jumped forward to kick Saul back.
Saul fell to the ground, seeing the dishonorable fool saunter toward him with blades ready. Saul ripped his blade from his scabbard and jumped for his shield still by the net. Saul donned it with haste and deftly swung his blade, clashing with both of Ithaca’s. Slashing high and low, he attempted to keep up. Ithaca struck from both sides with lightning speed. Saul guarded his deadly slices with his shield and bashed him back. Ithaca reared and soared in, swinging high and then spinning for Saul’s legs. Saul barely parried the strikes, getting pushed back time and time again. He bashed when he could, barely blemishing Ithaca’s right arm.
Boos and mocks came from the Stormwardens around them, but Saul’s concentration stayed strong. Saul retreated behind his shield, running full force into Ithaca before he could react, causing him to topple like a fool. He dropped one blade, and Saul deftly kicked the other away.
“You have lost!” Saul yelled, bringing his sword down like a mighty bolt of lightning himself.
Ithaca rolled out of the way and flipped up with a stagger to his step. He wiped blood from his mouth, growling at the stronger Broken before him. “My blade!” Ithaca demanded with a hand outstretched. Saul attempted to run in for the kill, but the white-cloaked wretch was too quick. Ithaca grabbed a two-bladed sword gilded with gold and black iron wrapping out of the air and blocked Saul’s sword with a clang. The other swished around for a carving of flesh, but Saul dodged out of the way.
“Coward! Fight me without the help of your underlings!” Saul took up a new weapon and shield, but he rolled and dodged to get it on his own. The damned coward Ithaca had an ally give him a weapon.
Ithaca only laughed. “Your race is full of cowards. Now you shall die, beast!”
He swished and swirled his two-bladed sword around like a staff, with death spelled at each point. Saul ran for quite a time and was already tired. His blade slowed as he stopped blows and dodged Ithaca’s dual strikes. Ithaca’s stance was low and strong, blade quick and elusive as a hurricane’s eye. Their blades clashed to the sound of silence; not even the other Stormwardens hooted or hollered anymore. Saul bashed one end of Ithaca’s blade, only to have the other slash his sword arm. Each strike from Saul only made the bastard swing around harder and fiercer.
Ithaca retracted back, making a mighty double swing at Saul’s blade, causing it to fly far from his hand. In the shock, Saul paused, giving Ithaca the chance to elbow him across the chin, throwing his shield arm out. The glint of steel passed into the center of his vision, and Saul felt himself contort his back to bend to a far tilt, only to feel the blade sever the close stubble on his chin. With a violent, upward pull of his other blade, pain fired across Saul’s forearm like a violent fire that boiled his blood. Ithaca carved through Saul’s shield arm flesh and bone all at once.
Saul roared in pain as he was kicked to the groun
d, gripping the bloodied stump that remained of his right forearm. No, my arm, my shield arm…
Ithaca drew back and let out a frantic laugh. “You see, this is the weakness of Broken! Only a fool would challenge the Soldier of Storms!” Ithaca threw his two-bladed weapon away far from the battle as his lowly Stormwarden grunts cheered. He threw his arms forward for his final note, as vile lightning spilled from his hands like a thousand blue-white threads of death.
The lightning surged through Saul’s body, forcing his grunt to wails. His veins exploded in pain, and he yelled and screamed in agony. He could barely hear the muffled laughs around him now. This is the way I die? Saul thought between the shocks of death. Armless, a waste of a Broken…hardly a warrior. Just like the dreams, I die now. It is my fate, it was foretold.
No! I can’t give up. I make my own fate! Saul thought frenetically.
As the moments passed, Saul struggled to remain conscious, and slowly, he felt less and less pain. As in the dreams, I feel it less. I can’t let the pain overtake me. I can’t surrender to this fate. I won’t let it stop me! The light stayed and laughs continued, but Saul opened his eyes to see the lightning surging all throughout his body with little feeling any longer. Instead of pain, he felt an energy he never experienced before. Slowly, he fought to his feet to challenge his enemy once more.
Arm or no, I will never surrender. “I’m not finished!”
Gasps and roars came from all angles. “No, this can’t be! I am the Storm! Die, you filthy monster!” Ithaca roared as the lightning grew in brightness and strength, but it only gave Saul more drive to rip the head from the bastard’s shoulders.
Saul ran forward with a powerful charge and grabbed the Hydrian traitor’s hands before he could run or find another weapon. Lightning flowed around both of them, but now it was not Saul who screamed, it was Ithaca. His power was fading; electricity sprawled over his skin, leaving behind burns and blisters.
“You are not the Soldier of Storms!” Saul yelled. “I am!”
Ithaca’s screams filled the air as he fell. The electricity faded, and Saul grabbed his weak, thin head with his sword hand, and bashed his skull over and over into the hard dirt ground. Blood spouted from Ithaca’s nose and mouth, until the wretch slowly stopped struggling and screaming. The final screeches of Ithaca and Saul’s roar of rage echoed through the cylindrical inner castle, followed by a deafening silence in the crowd.
As Saul lifted his hand, it was covered in blood. He slowly rose to his feet, hearing only still air. No hoots, no hollers, no mocking words, no screams, no laughs, and no cheers rang out. Slowly, murmurs rose in the circle around him. “The Soldier of Storms,” he heard whispered around him.
Is that what I am? Saul wondered. He said it in a moment of passionate anger, but he did not know the truth. Saul stared at the burning pain in his arm, the screaming nerves telling him that his hand was severed. A man without an arm is useless. How could I be the Soldier of Storms with this? Saul kicked the body of Ithaca over and over, knowing that even in death he would mock Saul’s stump of an arm. A Broken with this deformity was useless. They were banished from home or banned from combat. Moments passed, and he stood staring at his arm seared by electricity. Gradually, soldiers in white cloaks descended from the wall, coming to join the circle around Saul and his defeated enemy.
Sand seeped in from below the massive oak door, soaring and sifting with the wind. It blew past Saul and the corpse of Ithaca, forming into the body of a person: a tiny Hydrian woman with sharp gold-pierced ears, a perky nose and flowing hair as the Vale’s dark canopy, running toward the King.
“Father!” Thalia cried. She fiddled with the binds, freeing the King.
Saul heard the scrape of steel on scabbard, then murmurs of curses and growls from around him. A circle of white armor slashed with azure and green skin slowly converged on him. The soldiers reformed, seemingly unaffected by their leader’s demise. Lightning or no, Saul was not immune to the scrape of steel.
“Soldier of Storms or no, he has no sword, and no shield arm! The Broken are a blight, and we will snuff them out!”
Thalia turned a sharp eye and spoke in a cutting tone. “Don’t be stupid, Kraid. You approach him, and you know what happens next.”
The fool shrugged, tightening the grip on his blade. “Shut up, frail girl. The great Ithaca told us about your power. You are weak—nothing but a small woman. You can’t stop us all. This—this beast must have cheated somehow, sold his soul to one of the Four!” The others nodded in agreement. There must have been forty of them. Hydris ran down from all angles wearing white cloaks and armed to the teeth.
Kraid rushed at her in a flash, but Thalia rushed forward, arm now the color of pewter, and smashed him across the face with a vicious crack, setting his neck aside in an unnatural manner. His body crumpled to the ground, dead.
The rest ran toward her. Thalia hissed and frowned. “So be it.” She walked forward and winked at Saul as she passed him. “Stand back.”
She raised her hands and opened her eyes wide. Earth from all around—dirt, rocks, even stone from the walls—swung around her in a cyclone. All drew back in fear, and Saul watched as she formed into a twenty-foot tall stone Golem, wielding a giant blade of rock. An earth-shattering, guttural roar came from it. She swung in mighty whirlwinds, barely missing Saul’s head. White cloaks flew left and right, smacking against the stone wall of the inner castle. The soldiers attempted to slash and maul the stone legs, but to no avail. One man tried to jump and climb her back, only to be ripped off and thrown to the wall with a great crack.
The King stood up strong with hands behind his back as he watched the carnage unfold—as if it was expected, or as if he judged her form. One by one, the men flew and broke under the weight of Thalia’s stone feet, arms, and blade. The last man attempted to run, only to be caught under a large stone foot with a crunch.
Such a small woman, but with such power, he thought. Saul found the fact oddly endearing.
When the supposed new leader, Kraid, ran towards Saul, he came with a great blade held overhead, and Saul was unarmed. Saul reached for a blade that fell from another stormwarden, only to see Kraid be caught by Thalia’s massive stone hand, raised into the air, and smashed to the ground like an ant under a boot.
After the last traitor died, the stones fell from Thalia like sand, returning her to her short, slender form. Strangely, she approached Saul with an exhaustive expression, rubbing her head furiously. She glanced to Saul, eyeing his arm with a gasp. “This is going to hurt, but it’s necessary. Give me your right arm.”
Healing magic couldn’t regrow limbs. Saul knew what came next, and obliged. Her hand grew red-hot, placing it on his pathetic stump of a forearm. Saul growled in pain as she sealed the wound closed. “My thanks. You have interesting timing—and you’re late.” She conveniently arrived after the battle. Saul wondered how she even came to be in Serpentarius, as they’d left her in Shi’doba, far across the Plateau in the Neck.
“I was just a bit behind you the whole trip, Saul. You’re bad at seeing a tail. It isn’t my fault you rushed in here.” She passed by him, gracing him with a sly wink.
Saul did rush into the city and challenge them as quickly as he could.
She grasped the old man’s hand, and spoke softly. “Father, are you okay? I was worried when I heard the news of their plan.”
“You always know how to make an entrance, daughter. If only you were born a man.”
Thalia scrunched her face into frown. “Stop that. I’d rather not have been. The ‘men’ you bore became traitors.” She glanced at Saul, whose jaw was still dropped. “At this rate, I might have to be your successor.”
The King frowned. “Don’t patronize me. My bastard son just tried to kill me. I have no need for attitude from my daughter.”
“Well, aren’t you lucky Saul came? You should at least thank him—and oh, don’t forget I sent him here.”
As they spoke, Saul shook his head and c
ame back to reality. A hoarse breath echoed from nearby. Fae is alive. He limped over to her, still injured from the battle. She could barely croak a word.
“No, you cannot die. Your symbols show victory!” Saul said.
Fae coughed up a laugh, “Blind to the end, Saul. Idiot—don’t you see? We did win. Soldier of—storms. Heh—wouldn’t have guessed.” Her words faded, and her eyes turned lifeless.
He was too late. Ithaca, I would kill you again if I could, he vowed. He closed her eyes and saluted her and the others who died. They were brave, but did not think before they acted.
“Saul, it’s too late.” Thalia called softly from behind him. “We will give them a proper burial, to your customs.”
“Thank you,” Saul said bluntly, still staring at the bodies marred by electrocution. “If only we arrived earlier.”
“That can’t be helped. He would have killed them all if he could, the scum. He was hardly a man—nothing but a monster.” She paused for a moment, growing reflective. “I had a feeling it’d be you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Saul asked, turning a narrowed eye toward her.
“It was only a hunch. Plus, sometimes people need to find out who they are on their own. It’s a part of discovering one’s destiny, wouldn’t you agree?” She grinned pointedly.
Saul didn’t like her reply, but knew she was right. His destiny had drawn him south. He got up and turned toward the King. “Your Grace, may I have an audience?”
Kovos laughed hoarsely. “Oh, I suppose you might as well, boy. In time, I’ll grow busy, and newcomers can’t take precedence, even if you killed my traitorous, bastard son. Kith, Rhaena, unseal the door and let these people out. We will speak on the morrow about our security.” He sighed, waving some of the guards away. He walked slowly to his castle door, which was ripped open, but attached. “Boy, we shall speak now. I’m certain my daughter will see to your accommodations afterward.” The guards went to open the door, and all left outside spilled in. The King sauntered back into the massive royal structure alone, waving the guards away.
