“It will be done, your highness,” said Vakk with another bow. Turning, the field marshal fled the throne room, not offering restraint this time in his retreat.
Walking swiftly down the hallway, Vakk wiped at the blood upon his face. He barked orders for a medic, but did not stop his retreat. He would have the medic tend him in his own quarters, far from the Fortress of Ages and far from the king. And though his face sang a chorus of pain, what stabbed at Vakk more deeply was the words of his king.
After their exchange, Vakk could not know if it were madness or purpose that guided his king. Though inwardly, Vakk understood it was likely both. Yet more than his life hovered in balance, and for the first time in long years, Vakk truly possessed doubt. He had his position, but no longer felt he held a place in the order of things.
And this troubled Vakk more deeply than the wound on his cheek.
Yet Vakk knew, regardless of the outcome, he held a job that he must do. He was a soldier and his task was made clear. Vakk would prepare for the opposition, and he would crush them entirely and claim the seed for his king. Or he would die trying.
He dared not think what waited in store for him should he not afford Thorien victory or his own death.
14 War is death and death is life
It had taken long days, but word of Kaysa and the seed's awakening eventually covered the span of Kel'Thara. Kaysa had been thrown into an unrelenting storm, revealing to the non-believers that she was in fact the seed. Elves from all reaches of Kel'Thara swiftly flocked to Faeth in great droves, taxing the underground city to its limits. Kaysa quickly grew uncomfortable under the constant attention and demands, wanting nothing more than to return to Quenthell and be at peace.
But that dream, much like her home, was no more.
With a face offering courage, Kaysa endured these things as hope and courage grew into roaring flames. Yet the pressure mounted on the young elf, for she soon realized that, victory or failure, the entirety of hope for the world rested on her shoulders. The notion was crippling, and Kaysa did her best to save her tears for when she was in her room at Faeth and alone. All that remained for her it seemed were tears and her fate.
When the fires were their greatest and the streets of Faeth were overflowing, the united rebellion against the Ageless King amassed, formed rank, and geared for travel. With scant supplies and battered weaponry, the army pushed out, armed heavily with nothing but hope. It was clear to Kaysa that there was only enough resources to get the group to their destination.
Win or lose, there was no going back.
Surrounded by scores of men and women, Kaysa kept mostly silent as her ears filled with the heavy footfalls of a marching army. The jovial spirit offered on the first days of travel were gone now. They were close now to their destination, and that knowledge, coupled with the impending battle, allowed an ominous silence to permeate the ranks. All that remained to them was to fight and tempt the fates.
Desiring distraction, Kaysa surveyed the garments given to her for the upcoming battle. Derahn had procured for her a light piece of chest armor, and guards for her shins and forearms. Underneath these green-hued defenses rested a brown tunic and pants, and a wooden staff replaced her lost quarterstaff. Kaysa felt uncomfortable and ridiculous in the garb, yet said nothing despite her own inner protests.
Around her, Kaysa's friends remained close as they wore grim expressions. Only Marro appeared as if the impending battle was just another day. The look upon Vienda's face was terrifying to Kaysa, for the warrior looked eager to kill or die herself at equal lengths. Lokus kept close to Kaysa's left and opposite of him was Onzlyn who was intensely serene.
"You look nervous, Kaysa of Quenthell," observed Marro by her side.
"And I should be," countered Kaysa as she eyed him sternly. "We are heading forth to bloodshed. I do not see any other way to feel but uneasy."
Marro offered a casual grin to this. "That is the answer I hoped for from you, Kaysa, for I never wish you to approach what is coming with the ease that I do."
"And how many battles have you endured?" pressed Kaysa.
"I will not say," replied Marro instantly, "for I have no desire for you to think any less of me."
"He means quite a few," offered Onzlyn.
"You can silence yourself anytime now, friend," teased Marro. In another moment, the mercenary grew dark as he pointed ahead. “Ready yourself, for we are quite near now.”
At the change in Marro’s mood, Kaysa quickly focused her attention. It appeared that Marro’s dark mood was soon taken on by others, for now all she could hear were the footfalls of the amassed army. Feeling her own breath stick in her chest, Kaysa looked ahead, despite the pounding of her heart. Soon, she and her friends eclipsed the inclining trail before them and her eyes at last saw their destination.
Kaysa’s heart and soul mourned at the sight. There before her was what remained of Tharador, the tree of all life. Housed in its innards was Thorindale, home of the Ageless King and those who flocked to his banner. The buildings and homes of the city spat skyward in defiance of Tharador. And despite its demise, the lifeless tree still offered sound protection, its thick bark doubling as city walls. Kaysa cringed at the sight, wondering if there was in fact hope for the world still.
As the unified forces of Kel’Thara came fully into view of Thorindale, Derahn’s voice rose above the marching footfalls. “Form rank and ready for battle!” he commanded. Swiftly his orders were obeyed as the approaching storm grew nearer.
Kaysa watched the silent response offered from Thorindale. “Why do they not have forces roused to repel us? Surely they know we are coming by now,” she said.
Marro nodded darkly. “They do. Vakk simply has no reason to rush. We came to him and he will offer his confidence and disrespect in equal lengths.”
Before Kaysa could press this further, a great horn bellowed from the innards of the city. At its roar, a thunderous sound of hungry soldier’s unified their voices to meet it. The chill returned to Kaysa as she watched the gates of Thorindale slowly open. Soon the marching began as the city spat forth its own army. The soldiers assembled swiftly, forming their own ranks and swelling before Derahn’s amassed forces.
And while Kaysa was no soldier, it was clear to her that they were definitely outmumbered and outmatched.
Kaysa could not believe her eyes, for the young elf could not fathom such an army. Their numbers swelled, and she feared they would never stop exiting the bowels of Thorindale. At last, all soldiers assembled upon the battlefield, and the gates closed once more. Looking on a foreboding sea of black, Kaysa had to remind herself to breathe once more as she saw soldiers readying their rifles for death.
“These odds do not bode well for us,” mused Vienda with a soft edge.
“Numbers are not the only deciding factor in war,” said Marro in reply.
“But they surely help,” answered Vienda.
Marro nodded to this. “Yes, they do.”
Vienda shook her head as she procured her sword. “There is nothing before us but death,” she stated.
To this, Marro shook his head. “Not so, Vienda, for you have something sweeter that awaits you today,” he said.
“And what is that,” she asked as she narrowed her eyes.
Marro nodded to her before setting his gaze once more upon their enemies. “Vengeance,” he replied. “Let it fuel your strength and make you more dangerous than ever.” At this, Vienda said nothing, yet a fire ignited in her eyes as realization gripped her.
Kaysa searched about then, looking for Thorindale’s commander. Very soon, her eyes locked upon him, and as they did Kaysa felt a swelling anger rage within her innards. Even at the distance, Vakk appeared collected as he readied his troops to wash over the last remnants of resistance that remained in Kel’Thara. For Vakk’s forces, it was just another day.
Satisfied that his soldiers were at the ready and fully displaying the power of Thorindale, Vakk held an amplifier to his lips. The sma
ll magic of such a tool was not foreign to Kaysa or the others of Quenthell. Still it did little to halt the cringe and chill of Vakk’s voice as it assaulted the field. Kaysa readied herself against the barrage, as Marro grunted his disapproval of the field marshal.
“Kel’Tharians! Hear me well, for you seek to trespass upon the one true king of this land. I am Field Marshall Vakk of the forces Thorindale, and for this treasonous act upon King Thorien, I am charged with offering no quarter in the defense of my home,” stated Vakk.
“There would be no quarter regardless,” mused Marro bitterly.
Letting his words be absorbed, Vakk resumed his speech. “But the Ageless King offers mercy, even if it is undeserved, and now I offer you once chance at survival. Throw down your weapons at once! Fall to your knees and pledge eternal fealty to his Majesty Thorien. Bring us the seed to prove this fealty and you shall be spared death or darker fates. See reason at last and stand united as a people, for this is the only chance you hold, and the only chance for all people to live in harmony.”
Derahn was offered an amplifier by one of his commanders. And while it was in far worse shape than Vakk’s, the contraption still did its job. “Field Marshal Vakk, I am Derahn, steward of Faeth. And it is I who must ask you to see reason, for we have come to restore the true power and order of this world: Tharador the tree of all life. Our hopes and the hope of Kel’Thara rests solely on its restoration. Surely even the Ageless King can see that. We plead with you to see reason at last and let us try to heal this world.”
Vakk shook his head and spoke once more. “It is you, Derahn of Faeth, who are truly without reason, misguided if you still cling to such dreams. This is our world now. This is the last of Kel’Thara, and if we are to move forth to a new age, it will not be upon forgotten magic or vain dreams! Only King Thorien holds the wisdom and strength to see us through these dark times. Let your people know the truth. Let them embrace this stark reality so that we may endure and embrace a new and prosperous age! Now lay down your weapons before mercy is pulled from your grasp!”
Derahn lowered his head, shaking it softly before he replied. “It is clear that no resolution shall be reached. This outcome must be decided with blood and conviction, for what you choose to see is not what must be seen. The blindness of your false king has cost us too much already and no one that stands with me will accept it any longer.”
“Is this your final proclamation?” asked Vakk.
“No,” said Derahn, shaking his head. If these words are to be my last, I wish them to be only this. “For Tharador!”
At his proclamation, the combined forces of Kel’Thara took up his rallying cry, holding Tharador upon their lips. Raising weapons and fists to the air, the formations thundered their response, defiant against the quiet foe before them. Kaysa felt their conviction well into her bones, shivering at the power of such defiance. In those moments, she was moved beyond words at such a display.
As the shouting calmed, Vakk nodded sagely. “So be it. You have passed your own sentence. With your claim made, let us see if you can now enforce it. Come forth and accept judgment and death, for that is all that stands before you.”
“You leave us no choice then,” said Derahn before handing the amplifier back. He then turned to his commander and gave a quick nod. “Do what you must.”
The commander, who Kaysa did not know, turned swiftly and let his voice gain authority over the air. “Companies, ready for battle. Prepare to march on my command!”
As the ranks of soldiers before them prepped their rifles and swords, Marro shook his head. “This is too easy,” he stated.
Vienda glanced at him questioningly. “How do you figure that? They already have the advantage in numbers as well as fortification. We have to take the fight to them on their soil.”
Marro’s eyes searched about the battlefield warily. “No. It is more than that. I know Vakk. Even touting such an advantage, he would press for more. There’s more at play here than we see.”
Burdened by his words, Kaysa too searched about the field of battle. The commander had given his word to advance. Scores of soldiers marched forward in formation, ready to fire their rifles. The sounds of the advancing soldiers resonated with the anticipation of conflict. Kaysa’s breath stuck in her chest, for soon she too sensed like Marro that something was amiss.
Frustrated, Kaysa set her eyes upon Marro who still accessed the battlefield gravely. Procuring and extending his monocular, Marro set its focus upon Vakk. The field marshal waited patiently as the Kel’Tharian soldiers advanced. Calm and collected, it was evident to Marro that his adversary was gauging the distance of his enemies. The revelation that hit Marro then surged him with urgency.
“Derahn! Pull our forces back at once!” shouted Marro.
But it was already too late.
With Kel’Thara’s forces in place, Vakk raised a hand, and lowered it swiftly as he commanded his group. “Fire!”
At his behest, artillery hidden behind the walls of Thorindale spat forth their payloads. Derahn urged his commander to pull back, but his words were not swift enough. Kaysa gasped as a torrent of explosions ate into the front lines, killing and maiming with ravenous fury. The young elf averted her eyes as the screams of the dying assaulted her ears.
“They have a fixed blast radius! Get them free of it, now!” hissed Marro.
In the end, the mercenary’s words meant little. Marro’s insistence and Derahn’s commands could not save those that now faced the storm. Derahn’s commander quickly was torn limb from limb as his body absorbed the brunt of an explosive blast. Men and women fled or huddled upon a ground that would offer little protection. In the distance, Vakk and his men watched casually as they remained rested and at the ready.
“We cannot break through that radius,” said Derahn as the bulk of the frontline forces continued escaping the fury unleashed upon them.
“We must or this offensive is at an end,” said Marro.
“It is too much madness!” claimed Faeth’s leader.
“War is madness, Derahn! Steel yourself!” shouted Marro.
As the bombardment continued, Kaysa’s spirit endured more than enough agony from the fray. Like before, her instincts took over and she felt magic coursing through her every vein. Clenching her fists, Kaysa welcomed the sensation rush over her as she raised her hands skyward. As she did, the magics of the seed obeyed her.
Soon, the unrelenting barrage of artillery fire ceased exploding upon the ground. To the surprise of everyone, the artillery instead met a magical barrier of swirling green. Those saved from the artillery cheered, welcoming the relief offered. Halting their retreat, the soldiers of Kel’Thara regrouped and assembled their ranks.
“We’ve been given a blessing,” breathed Derahn as he watched on, mystified.
“Do not waste it,” offered Marro before locking his glance upon Vienda. “You should lead them,” he said to her, before adding “For Khey.”
Vienda looked at him fiercely before being set awash in her own acceptance. She looked to Derahn, who nodded his consent. Drawing her sword, Vienda rushed forward, taking her place among the front lines. “Troops! Forward march!” she commanded. None present questioned her authority as the group again pushed ahead.
Marro looked at the display before him, stunned by the magic that swelled from Kaysa. “Can you hold such an exertion for long, Kaysa?” he asked.
Kaysa’s eyes narrowed as she grimaced, yet the glowing intensity within never diminished. “I have no intention of stopping now,” she growled.
As the formations pressed forward again, the ranks were further bolstered by the protection offered by Kaysa. Vakk ordered for the artillery to increase, yet the raised intensity was also repelled. Kaysa grimaced with each deflection, but she maintained the protection through the radius of artillery fire. The Kel’Tharian soldiers pushed forward uncontested, making their way toward Thorindale and further peril.
With the ranks secure, Kaysa lowered her hands,
catching her breath. Marro caught Kaysa as she stumbled. The young elf nodded her thanks as she regained her footing. As Kaysa reclaimed her breath, she and the others shifted back to the inevitable, bloody exchange that would soon ensue.
Kaysa was unable to peel her eyes from the battle lines drawing closer. Orders were shouted as the front lines of the Kel-Tharians aimed their weapons. Another shout and the front lines fired before kneeling. The lines behind them then fired before kneeling as well. The lines continued, firing and reloading in a cycle as their weapons tore into the ranks of Thorindale. Many soldiers fell against the assault, yet Vakk’s forces appeared unhindered.
And then, Vakk commanded his soldiers to return fire.
At Vakk’s behest, Thorindale’s ranks fired upon the Kel’Tharians. The retaliation, coupled with the numbers and higher quality weaponry, was merciless. An unrelenting storm ravaged the ranks, felling three for each soldier lost. The two sides continued firing, producing an equivalent result with each exchange.
“By Tharador’s soul, this is a massacre, breathed Derahn. “We must withdraw.”
“There will never be a chance like this again, Derahn,” stated Marro. “It’s now or it is never.”
Derahn wrenched around to look at Marro. “What would you have us do, mercenary? We simply do not have enough to breach their defenses.”
“We must find a way to make it enough, Derahn,” said Delegas.
“You speak of vain hope and impossibility!” spat Derahn. The sight of the bloodshed was almost too much to endure.
“Maybe,” said Marro as he averted his gaze to Kaysa. “Or maybe not.”
Kaysa’s gaze was still locked upon the battlefield. From her stance, Marro wondered if the young elf was feeling the pain and death before her. Slowly her fists clenched again as those around her could feel the swell of magic return. Lokus called to his friend, but Kaysa was beyond hearing in that moment. Her spirit revolted against what she saw, despised seeing Kel’Tharians that fell needlessly.
Kaysa would accept it no longer.
The Last of Kel'Thara Page 20
