Silence fell over the group. Cole had known Kreed would be here with Decreath, but Sorronis and Grotton too? Doubts blossomed into dread flowers within his heart.
“I Feared as much,” Megorien replied in a quiet voice. “But that doesn’t change our course. None of us have experience fighting The Three, so I’ll defer to your judgment.”
“Alvani, Rothael, and I will see to The Three and their Harbingers,” Chiron said. “They were Aenerians once. At least some fragment of their black hearts still is. They are not invulnerable.”
“Agreed,” Alvani said, a soft pink glow emanating from her body. The light bathed Cole like a welcome sunrise, invigorating him. “However marred their souls might be, they cannot evade our grace entirely.”
Roth let out a rumbling chuckle. “The Harbingers are creatures of flesh. Flesh can be broken.”
“We have not been idle these last hundred cycles,” Chiron said in a hard tone. “Though our numbers are few, The Three cannot best all of us in open combat. A stalemate perhaps, but they will gain no ground once we find them.”
“Your confidence is bolstering,” Megorien replied, holding her chin a little higher. I wish the Celestial Council saw things that way.”
“Any word from the mountain folk?” Roth asked, casting his eyes up the steep valley walls. “Their asses are on the line too. You’d think they might want to pitch in.”
“Not a word.” Megorien shook her head. “Our emissaries are chased off with bolts of ice whenever they get too close.”
Roth took a deep breath, sniffing the air. “I’ll have a little chat with the mountain-cowards when we’re through here. Do you have a battle plan, Megorien? Or is that on us too?”
“We have several. But I wouldn’t be doing my job as Battle Matron if I didn’t ask to hear yours, Bonebreaker. You do have a plan, don’t you?”
“As a matter of fact I do, and it’s the one we’re going with.” Roth stopped, halting the entire procession. “Since your lot can’t handle a bit of Fear without wetting yourselves, you’ll take the Domina. All of them.”
“But those are fool’s odds!” Megorien cried. “You expect us to take on one thousand triple-thralled Domina with only one hundred of our warriors?”
“Like I said, I expect at least half of your number won’t make it. Should have pleaded your case to the Council before marching off to battle. Maybe then you’d have yourself a proper army. Take heart Battle Matron, for you only get the beggar’s share of this meal. We take the King’s plate. There’s only eight warriors from The Sill and we’ll be handling the Corpulants, the priests, and whatever Harbingers might be joining the party.”
Megorien looked to the other elders. When they didn’t object, she gave Roth a grim nod. “Forgive me, Bonebreaker. I know not of strategies of large-scale battles. The Council should not have elected me as Battle Matron. I am too young.”
Roth stepped forward and gave her a solid brow-to-brow thump. She staggered, but held her ground. Roth tapped a claw to her breast. “I might have my differences with the white robes up in the temple, but they chose well. You are clever. The Domina are strong, but stupid. Use your Wisdom as a weapon and they’ll fall for every trick you throw at them. Fangshard Valley is too steep for the Domina to climb easily. It makes no difference how large their numbers are, they’re going to be forced to squeeze through this little pass. You take the ground and own it. Don’t give them an inch. We’ll take to the sky and pinch them from up there.”
“Thank you, Bonebreaker,” she replied in a stronger voice.
Chiron placed an arm on a shoulder of each, his voice light and pleasant, as if they had been merely discussing dinner plans. “A fine plan! I suggest we put it into place before our enemies delve any deeper into the pass. Best of luck to you, Megorien. Come Rothael, spread your wings with me.” Chiron blinked slowly, looking up to the stars as his feet left the ground.
Megorien nodded and stalked away from the elders, barking orders to the front of her formation. Cole heard the clinking of conjured wings as the rest of his unit took flight. After a moment it was only him and Alvani left on the paved road. She held him with her eyes.
“You don’t need to live up to Varka. In just a few months you’ve accomplished things beyond any student. You are a marvelous person Cole, and I’m better for knowing you.” She gently pulled his head down and kissed him upon the brow. She withdrew, raising an arm to the sky. A series of concussions battered the air as Gale came from nowhere. He flapped to a halt and took her hand in his feathery paws, carrying her up into the valley ceiling.
Cole smiled to himself, looking back at Oberon and indulging in its balmy glow one last time. Alvani’s words soothed some deep-rooted concerns that he wasn’t actively aware of. Varka had been inside him, and likely still was, but he only appeared in the strangest of times. There were countless occasions when Cole could have used his help, only to be left scratching at the dark to figure it out on his own. Varka may have provided a nudge here and there, but it was Cole who dragged himself through the worst of it. At the moment he couldn’t even recall the last time Varka had showed himself. What did it even matter? This was Cole’s fight now. This fight was for today’s Aeneria. Varka’s time had come and gone.
Cole turned from Oberon and peered down the empty trail. Rage tingled up the back of his neck and lit his munisica with fiery wrath. The shroud enveloped him inside and out, strengthening every fiber of his body with undiluted Rage. Cole threw his shoulders back and filled his lungs, releasing a primal bellow that echoed down the valley.
To his chagrin, Cole felt Varka’s cape working over the processes of his mind. It was far easier to partition himself. He kept a coherent portion of his consciousness firmly embedded in his center. While still fully shrouded with Rage, it was no hard task to call Wisdom to his aid. His feet left the ground as the stone cape melted to flowing glass. He surged upward to his comrades.
Roth was in the lead, his great sweeping wings easily three times the size of any other. Cole fell in behind them, noticing his lungs beginning to ache and quicken. The air was too thin at this altitude, too weak. Maintaining his Rage, he cast yet another spell of Wisdom, compressing the air around him. The task was more taxing than he had anticipated. He released a small portion of his Rage and the shroud receded from his torso.
They were only two-thirds the elevation of the Fangshards, but Cole could see both ends of the valley. At one end the meager army of Oberon City cut its way in with little specks of emerald weapons. Cole saw a few of their soldiers take higher ground, lining the steep banks of the pass just ahead of the front line. They progressed aggressively and confidently.
Cole gazed down towards the coastal end of the valley, unable to discern anything from the vague shapes that splotched the landscape. After a moment he realized something was off. Cole enhanced his vision to the limits of his Wisdom, zooming miles down the valley. What he had taken for a great swath of trees at the mouth of the valley was undulating, moving. It was the Domina. Cole didn’t have to count them to know their numbers were several times that of Oberon’s army. Megorien’s estimation of one thousand was an absurdly conservative number. He considered flying down to tell her just that, but Roth’s arching wings banked hard to the right, leading the rest of the unit to a flat alcove.
Munisica and bare feet crunched into the rocky ledge. Gale’s hulking claws made a prominent statement as his paws collided into the stone. He chirped and folded his wings as Alvani hopped down and joined the others. Her feet and hands were no longer gentle and pale, but wicked, black weapons. Cole had never seen the Passion-Master draw munisica before.
Cole fell in close to Roth, who considered the scene before him as a jeweler might inspect an heirloom of questionable value. The group was silent for a long while, merely watching the two armies progress towards the middle of the pass. After a quarter of an hour it became painfully apparent how hopelessly outnumbered Oberon’s army was. The elders remained still as statue
s the whole while, though the unit began to stir as unease spread over the ledge.
Valen was first to break the silence. “Masters, please enlighten us. I know you have assigned the Domina to Oberon’s forces, but should we not help them while we sit idle? We could eliminate a good portion before they ever reach the front lines. Give us the order.”
The elders didn’t respond, though every ear was poised and ready. Eventually Roth rumbled an answer: “Your orders are to watch and learn. The Wisdom Warriors are more capable than they let on. They might need to see a few of their friends take their last, but they’ll find their rhythm soon enough. Watch the Domina, watch how they move. See what animals they’ve taken for thralls. Consider them, but do not let your eyes neglect what crawls up the coast behind them.”
All five heads of the unit snapped to the right while the Elders maintained their passive sweep. Cole peered through his own sharpened lenses while others conjured their crystalline telescopes. It looked as if a great flock of birds flapped their way into the valley. They appeared drunk, barely able to keep aloft. A quarter of an hour passed, bringing their figures close enough so that there was no mistaking them. Oberon illuminated their sagging abdomens and gaping maws, their thin wisps of hair and gangly hands. A swarm of Corpulants devoured the sky, hobbling through the air on stubby wings.
“Well that’s a new trick,” Chiron remarked.
“I bet they still come apart just as easy,” Roth said.
Cole swallowed hard, stifling a gag. The Corpulants were already the vilest things he’d ever seen, yet somehow they had managed to make themselves even more repugnant. He wished he could burn the lot of them with fire, but the horrors were bred from Fear, making Wisdom invalid. Passion wouldn’t do either. There was nothing about them that he could remotely relate to and sympathize with. It would have to be Rage. He glanced down the line, seeing munisica stretching, aching for use.
Gale chirped with unease, trotting in place as his great amber eyes glared at the flock. Alvani stroked his neck feathers with a rosy hand, soothing him. She looked to the unit with a sly grin. “Valen, would you be so kind as to take your unit and rid this valley of that swarm? I would do it myself, but Gale doesn’t like Corpulants and I’d rather not clean the mess from his plumage.”
“With pleasure, Master Alvani.” Valen looked each member of the unit in the eye, exchanging bloodlust in a moment’s gaze.
“Wait till they’re over the front line,” Roth hissed. “I don’t want them balking and fleeing the way they came.”
“And don’t forget about their flies,” Chiron added, crossing his arms behind his back, inspecting the Corpulants with a scholarly interest. “Other than their poor interpretation of wings, they appear to be the same…” His voice faded as he squinted. Then his eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Oh, no I was wrong. Their throats are unusually engorged. Be mindful of that little detail. I’m sure it’s not insignificant.”
“Thank you Masters.” Valen’s munisica clutched the sharp edge of the escarpment. He poised himself in a low crouch as his emerald wings uncurled like blooming lilies.
Over the next half hour, the front lines of both ground armies met. First blood was drawn by the Domina. Their sluggish progress belied how fast they were in close quarters. Roth’s prediction was accurate; once a few of Oberon’s number had fallen, the others tightened their formations and retaliated with terrible efficiency. Summoned shields broadened into an impenetrable wall as spellcasters hurled their magic into the legion of Domina. After a few minutes of skirmishing, a wall of the fallen beasts had piled high enough to halt the oncoming flood. Oberon’s warriors continued to rain down a storm of offensive magic upon the Domina, who were too busy navigating their fallen comrades to notice the attacks.
Cole observed the exchange with passive interest. Good people were dying down there, but he detached himself from that idea. Passion had its place, and his Passion wanted him to jump off the ledge and heal the warriors before death became them. From the calm of his stone room he could see the situation clearly. He would save a far greater number by analyzing the Domina for a moment, as well as sticking to their plan. The Corpulants were nearly at the front line now. Decreath’s Fear would change the tide of the ground-battle within seconds.
Something familiar caressed the edges of Cole’s mind. It felt pure and wholesome, and carried with it echoes of every memory he had from The Sill. He checked his bond with Goran, but the mirak was still watching the mouth of the valley from some far-off peak.
Eliza joined the gentle touch, urging it into Cole’s mind. “I’m widening our bond so the whole unit can communicate. It’s not as acute as what you and I share, but it will allow us to work together as a cohesive whole. Accept it.”
Without a word, Cole opened himself to the myriad of swirling minds. He could feel each mind of his unit as a separate thrumming strand that wove them all together. The connection was ambiguous and crude, like the first time he connected with Goran. He felt a moderate drain on his Passion, but nothing too worrisome.
Fire.
Flight.
Rage.
The concepts came from Valen’s rigid strand. They were simple, yet made perfect sense with the context of his desires. One at a time, the unit flexed their wings as a churning whirlwind of fire spiraled around their bodies.
Cole had never summoned fire in such a manner, but now Varka’s cape nudged his grasp on the necessary Wisdom. Using the familial bond, the cape translated the spell into something Cole could easily understand. Grinding his teeth with effort, Cole ignited his own flame-cloak. He opened his eyes with a jolt. The rest of his unit had already taken flight.
Alvani’s voice rang out clear and powerful, “Go blaze a trail for Terra.”
Cole nodded to her through the rippling flames. He took a steadying breath to solidify himself in his center, pouring the cooling waters over his consciousness. Eyes snapping wide, he locked on to his unit and dove from the ledge.
Varka’s cape fluttered over Cole’s backside as it shifted to liquid glass. He dropped several stories, indulging in the thrill of the fall and the rushing of the wind. On a whim, he summoned his emerald wings instead of moving himself with direct Wisdom. The air rushed into the crystal wings, filling them with tight control of the winds. As Chiron had mentioned, the conjured wings gave him much better low-speed maneuverability. He did a few sharp banks and experimental rolls, but he was quite sure he could fly circles around the hobbling Corpulants. Decreath’s horrors looked as if they could barely maintain flight with their ramshackle wings of baggy skin and crooked bones.
Cole filled his wings and swooped up to join his unit’s formation. Through their unit-bond they agreed to assault the Corpulants from altitude. Without a spoken word or thought, they folded their wings and shot into a steep dive, five blazing meteors of Rage and Wisdom tearing through the valley.
Cole picked his target and surged faster; a fat Corpulant chundering along with a labored gait. His Rage wanted to dive straight through, but his Wisdom knew he would lose too much momentum. Shifting slightly, he opened a wing and with a sharp thwack, cleaved the head of the first Corpulant. The monster dropped like a sack of soiled laundry.
Opening his wings, Cole looped back up to the fray, coming head first with several more of the misshapen horrors. They circled around him. Tugging at the gill-like flaps on their torsos, they shook clouds of stinging flies towards him. The insects flew straight for him, only to crackle and pop as they buzzed against his flame cloak. Cole hung in the air for a moment, watching the Corpulants flap closer as morbid curiosity took hold of him. One Corpulant edged nearer than the others, its jiggling folds rippling as it worked its mouth open. Surely it wouldn’t be foolish enough to try and swallow him?
The Corpulant’s maw snapped open, sending a levered appendage hurling towards Cole, clouting him in the face with alarming force. Cole snatched at the thing before it could retract, squeezing and severing it with his claws. He
banked up and away from the Corpulants, checking his face to make sure the shroud had protected him from the blow. Once at a safe height, he inspected the severed appendage. It looked like a ball of bleeding gums with a leathery arm at its base. At its tip was a yellow horn as long as his forearm. Clear liquid oozed from little holes along its length like some great needle. Cole shared the information through the unit-bond, warning the others.
Not willing to take any chances, Cole dismissed the flame cloak so that his Rage could fully shroud him. The emerald wings took a greater effort to maintain and he knew he wouldn’t be as agile, but then again he didn’t need to be. The Corpulants were slow and sloppy, and their tongues and flies would have no effect on him. Once above their flock, he dove through again, more slowly this time. With careful deliberation, he plucked at their heads with his munisica, crushing and killing eight on his way down. Flies and spiked tongues battered his shroud all the while. He wove his way three more times through the flock before the Corpulants began to scatter. They never made it down to the front line. Cole glanced down at Oberon’s warriors. Their jade shields had been bolstered, covering the entire formation in a seamless hull. The Domina’s progress had not only been halted, but reversed. The tides of battle were quickly flowing in favor of Oberon’s army.
When the unit couldn’t find any more Corpulants, they made for the rear flank of the Domina before the beasts could escape from the valley. A savage giddiness took hold of Cole as he imagined himself using the full measure of his Rage against so many foes. The unit was about to land when a thundering mind exploded into their unit link.
“GET YOUR ASSES BACK UP HERE NOW!”
They all winced, looking to each other for an answer.
“Why the hell would he call us back?” Sitra hollered over the wind. “We’re doing just fine.”
Saving The Dark Side Book 2: The Harbingers Page 47
