In those moments, the sky burst forth with majestic light before the heavens opened, offering with it a bountiful rain. With both armies distracted by the display, Kaysa set her strength and judgment upon the battlefield. The waters spilling upon the fallen Kel’Tharian soldiers shimmered and danced over the dead and wounded. Soon, the magics swelled, as those fallen rose once more. Vakk and his men were thunderstruck by the display.
As the fallen soldiers were revived, the rains set forth upon Thorindale and its people. Heavy winds toppled buildings and artillery. Soldiers were cast down by the fury as Vakk called for them to regroup and hold. The storm caressed and smote, healed and ravaged, and through it all obeyed Kaysa’s every whim.
It was then that Kaysa cried out once more as she drew her fists toward herself. Pushing out again with her arms, the swell of magic pushed the rains and lands roaring upon the walls of Thorindale. Soldiers caught in the fury were crushed and cut to ribbons by the debris. Others were cast down and ravaged by the waters. But with this action, Kaysa’s strength was spent. The young elf collapsed in Marro’s arms as all that remained of her efforts was true sunlight bursting through the hues of gray.
Recovering himself, Vakk regained his feet as he called for his soldiers to reform rank. Many of his troops were dead, and the waters had made their rifles and powder useless. Drawing his sword, he looked toward his enemy and the tattered battlefield. What he saw then drew the breath from his chest.
There before Vakk, assembling once more, was the combined armies of Kel’Thara. Their ranks were almost fully replenished, and Vakk could see healed flesh under tattered and bloodied garments. Vakk could now hear the disbelief pouring through his ranks. With his own losses, the numbers were closer to even. Now the battle would be decided with swords and melee. Blood was about to be spilled, and Vakk was no longer confident with the odds.
Vakk’s eyes then noticed Vienda as she pushed to the front of the lines. The elf warrior pointed her sword in Vakk’s direction before her voice pierced the field like the light had pierced the sky. “For Tharador! For Kel’Thara! Charge!”
Her rallying cry was picked up by the Kel’Tharians as every soldier joined her in rushing the walls of Thorindale.
Vienda, swelled with battle lust and a thirst for vengeance, led the defiant charge. With his ammunition soaked, Vakk had no choice but to oblige the Kel’Tharians with a charge of his own. The two forces rushed at one another, both sides no longer accepting retreat. The clash of bodies and blades was tremendous, and within moments, both forces were blended into a symphony of carnage and death.
The Kel’Tharians pressed forward without relent. While not as organized as the forces of Thorindale, their cause made their course strong. Vakk’s forces, knowing that failure was death regardless, held nothing back in their defense. Within moments, the skirmish became one of the bloodiest fights Kel’Thara had ever seen.
As the battle waged, Delegas placed his hand on Kaysa’s head. “How is she, Marro?” he asked.
“She is spent,” said the mercenary grimly. “Wielding such magics have taken their toll.”
“We must get her inside at once,” said Delegas, pointing to Thorindale and the battered tree that once was Tharador. “The swifter the better. If we can ignite the seed, we may yet save thousands of lives today.”
Marro brushed the hair from Kaysa’s sleeping face as he eyed Delegas. “What do you propose then? We’ve not breached that gate and have been unable to rouse Kaysa,” he said.
Delegas searched about the massive walls of the fallen world tree. “We must find another way, and quickly.”
Before Marro could offer a reprimand, Onzlyn approached. “We must make a hole, Marro,” he said, patting his pack. He then opened it and procured what remained of their explosive cylinders.
“That is not enough to break that wall,” stated Marro.
“It is if I find a crack,” replied Onzlyn before handing Marro his long rifle. “You are the only one I can trust to make the shot from this distance.”
Marro handed Kaysa to Delegas as he inched close to his friend. “Are you trying to die on this day, Onzlyn of Faeth?”
Onzlyn shook his head, clenching Marro’s offered hand. “I’m doing what we must. Living or dying from it is simply a roll of chance.”
The two comrades looked at one another silently as the battle waged. Marro gauged Onzlyn. The Faeth native lifted his goggles a moment. And while the orbs there were not his eyes, they shimmered with the warmth of his being.
“Very well,” said Marro, gripping Onzlyn’s hand more fiercely. “Find a weakness. Plant those charges and get free of there. Are we in agreement?”
Onzlyn slapped Marro’s arm, offering a wry grin. “The dice is rolled, friend,” he said before turning and rushing toward the battle and Thorindale.
“Onzlyn! Wait!” Marro shouted, but it was of no use. His comrade was already off, rushing forward to tempt the fates. Cursing to himself, Marro readied the rifles in his possession.
****************
With both devices cradled in his left arm, Onzlyn sped toward the ancient walls of what once was Tharador, the world tree. Before him, the fighting between the two armies intensified, and the Faeth native hoped it would be enough distraction so that he may reach the walls and find a breach. Clenching to the rifle in hand, Onzlyn prepared himself as his approach drew the attention of some of Thorindale’s soldiers.
With a maddened soldier rushing with his sword at the ready, Onzlyn swung the rifle so that the butt rested under his right arm. Swiftly, he fired a shot, catching his enemy in the chest and felling him. Onzlyn then flipped the weapon, catching the barrel before swinging it like a club into the face of the next approaching soldier. As the soldier fell, Onzlyn prepared for the next, yet that soldier would never reach him. He instantly recognized the sound of his own rifle through the battle as Marro fired and pierced the advancing soldier’s skull.
Onzlyn continued his charge, with the next soldier meeting the same fate as the last. He was almost to the wall, yet the closer the Faeth native became, the more soldier’s took notice of him. With two advancing quickly, Marro only had time to shoot one in the chest. Onzlyn threw the rifle in his hand, striking the other soldier in the face. Drawing his short sword, Onzlyn pressed harder, searching about the thick walls for weaknesses with his enhanced eyes.
In that moment, Onzlyn barked in anguish as searing pain filled his right leg. The elf fell, rolling once before standing again. Onzlyn almost fell once more, for his leg resisted his will. Keeping his footing, he searched for the soldier who hit him, finally training his sight on an elf manning the walls with a dry rifle. Onzlyn kept running as much as he was able as the soldier reloaded. Much to his relief, Marro caught on, hitting the soldier in the face from the great distance.
With some effort, Onzlyn at last reached the walls, clear of the ensuing, bloody exchange. Yet despite this he still engaged soldiers as he searched for a crack or weakness. Onzlyn grew frustrated, dividing his attention between searching for a weakness and fighting for his life. The pain in his leg burned fresh clarity into his senses as he ignored the blood slipping from his wound. For now, all that mattered was planting his charges.
“Come on, blast you,” hissed Onzlyn as he searched about stubbornly. “There!” Seeing his opportunity, relief burst across his face, as Onzlyn sprinted to his target.
With the battle rising in its fevered pitch, Onzlyn halted and knelt before a large section of the wall that was Tharador. There starting at the ground was a fissure that slowly rose into the bark of the fallen world tree. Still kneeling, Onzlyn hacked at the opening, painstakingly making it larger with each swipe. Another soldier charged him only to be felled by Marro. Onzlyn understood he had to be swift. Marro’s ammunition would not last much longer.
“Damns, you, come on!” Onzlyn cursed at himself as he attacked the small crack furiously. The elf dug and pulled and hacked away with slow and painful progression. His work, c
oupled with the running and blood loss was taxing him greatly. Beyond exhaustion and frustration, Onzlyn dropped his sword and grabbed at the side of the crack, pulling fiercely. The exertion sent him to screaming, his frustration and pain both mounting.
At last, Onzlyn cried out as he was thrown backwards and onto the ground. Recovering himself, the elf felt great relief, as he was now holding a hunk of bark. The fissure was big enough now, and he could place his charges. Onzlyn caught a breath, exhaling pure relief as he brought himself to his feet once more.
And then his heart nearly stopped.
“Stop that elf!”
Onzlyn looked up in time to see the soldier that had leaped from wall to assail him with a sword. On instinct, Onzlyn raised the bark pulled from Tharador. The block was true. Onzlyn deflected the sword strike meant for his head, yet its small size left him little margin for error as the tips of three of his fingers came off with the attack. Onzlyn screamed again as he and his enemy fell to the ground.
Moving purely on reflexes, Onzlyn pushed through the pain, rolling to find his footing again. It was just in time to face another sword strike from his recovered enemy. This time, Onzlyn swiped the attack away with the bark before ramming his bloody hand into the face of the soldier. Struck and blinded, the soldier tried to clean his eyes with his sleeve before Onzlyn struck him fiercely with the bark. As the soldier fell, Onzlyn climbed atop him swiftly, administering heavy blows until the resistance ceased.
Looking up, Onzlyn saw three more soldiers rushing him, swords at the ready. He drew back the bark in his hand, throwing it and hitting the nearest soldier in the chest and ceasing his advance. The second soldier fell as his chest sputtered open from another shot by Marro. Claiming his enemy’s sword, Onzlyn stood to face the last soldier.
Bloodied and weary, Onzlyn offered nothing as he waited for his enemy. The younger elf that faced him offered no such restraint, charging his wounded opponent. Onzlyn studied the soldier with curious patience, crouching as the distance between the two elves diminished quickly. When that distance was almost gone, the Thorindale soldier drew back his sword with his right hand for a vicious slash.
Onzlyn reacted then, leaping forward and pushing firmly with both legs. Despite the protest of his injury, Onzlyn’s speed and strength surprised his younger opponent. Instead of parrying the blow, the Faeth native drove his left elbow into the inside of the soldier’s arm, halting the attack before sending his own blade through his enemy’s midsection. The soldier gasped at the assault as Onzlyn’s momentum halted his own and cast him backwards upon the ground.
As the soldier of Thorindale choked on his last breaths, Onzlyn rose slowly, removing the blade from his adversary. Taking up another blade, the elf limped back to the fissure. Acquiring the explosives, Onzlyn jammed them in easily as he heard more soldiers approaching. Satisfied, he reclaimed the blades and turned to face where he knew Marro watched. Stabbing the blades into the ground, Onzlyn removed his goggles as an easy peace fell upon his limbs.
He knew by the stance he offered that Marro understood his intentions.
****************
“No,” said Marro, shaking his head as he looked through the scope on the rifle. “Get free of there, fool!”
Having spent the remainder of his ammunition, Marro was down to one last shot. He had watched with bated breaths as Onzlyn fought for his life. His friend was injured and bloodied, but still standing. Yet as the elf of Faeth turned and removed his goggles, Marro could see the slow smile rise upon his face as he prepared to defend the explosives with his life.
Marro hesitated. Onzlyn, despite their differences, despite the Faeth elf’s eccentricities and ribbings, was the closest thing to family he could ever remember. Marro’s instincts urged his limbs to train the rifle on the explosives. His heart, however, rebelled fervently. Silently Marro willed his comrade to flee as he saw the swell of soldiers rushing to kill him.
Yet Onzlyn would not move.
Marro watched, stricken as Onzlyn procured the swords stabbed into the ground. He then crossed his arms, patting his heart as he offered a nod to Marro. Marro knew there was nothing he could do to change the course of his stubborn friend. Yet he raised his fist in the air, hoping that Onzlyn could see it well. Nodding again to Marro, Onzlyn turned to defend the explosive charges.
Marro readied the weapon in his hand, yet his finger refused to pressure the trigger. Within his scope, he watched as Onzlyn fought against the swelling soldiers that had taken notice of his plight. Fatigued and bloody, Onzlyn fought savagely against the hordes. Marro observed as his comrade felled ten more enemies before another rifle shot pierced his stomach and dropped him to his knees. Yet despite this, Onzlyn stood once more to bury his blades into one last soldier before falling with his enemy.
Clenching his teeth, Marro saw as Onzlyn rose again. Pulling one of the blades from his felled opponent. Crawling now, Onzlyn returned to guard the armed fissure within the wall of Thorindale. Coughing blood, the Faeth native then held up his free hand. Through the scope, Marro could see Onzlyn offered his upward thumb as he smiled once more at Marro. Trembling with anger, the mercenary held little choice but to grant his comrade his wish.
With a bitter taste in his mouth and an ache in his heart, Marro fired the rifle.
Despite countless battles over his life, Marro could not help but avert his eyes, choosing not to see the next moments. The mercenary’s aim was true, piercing one of the canisters that Onzlyn had placed. A fierce explosion ensued, tearing at Thorindale’s wall and Onzlyn’s body equally. Soldiers dove for cover as the force of the blast gave even those fighting for their lives pause. As the flames continued to sputter, it was revealed easily that a breach had been created, and the way into Thorindale was at hand.
And Onzlyn was no more, save for valor and memories.
Dropping the rifle, Marro turned from Thorindale’s walls, lowering his head and clenching his fists. Delegas looked up from caring for Kaysa, offering a solemn nod. Even Lokus offered no spite in those moments, lowering his own gaze in respect for their fallen ally. In the distance, Vienda could be heard rallying Kel’Thara’s forces upon notice of the breach.
At last, Marro raised his head as he looked to Delegas. “We have our means of entrance. We must capitalize on this while we still can,” he said darkly.
“Kaysa has not woken yet. We are not ready,” said Delegas in response.
“Then we must stand for her until she is ready,” said Marro as he knelt, lifted Kaysa and rested her upon his shoulders. “The world can ill-afford us missing such a chance. Do I have your support?”
Delegas hesitated, yet his hesitance was brief. “You do,” he said, standing.
Marro then turned toward Lokus. “And you? We could certainly use your skill and bow.”
Lokus nodded firmly. “Where she goes, I go,” he replied swiftly.
“Very well,” said Marro as he faced the battle and breach. “Let us be swift,” he stated before rushing toward their newfound opportunity.
Clenching his jaw at the exertion, Marro led Lokus and Delegas as he charged toward the opening his fallen friend had created for them. The swell of battle deepened as both sides widened their skirmish. Upon Marro’s shoulders, Kaysa groaned as she fought to regain her wits. The mercenary kept his vigilance as the four elves approached increasing peril.
Before the group, scant amounts of Thorindale soldiers gathered to protect the breach. Marro watched as they took notice, drawing one of his pistols as he did. With much of their enemy’s powder wet, he knew they were afforded a slight advantage to their approach. Yet Marro knew he could not slow, for the task before them was still unfinished.
With the distance to the walls quickly waning, a handful of the soldiers defending Thorindale charged with their swords. Marro raised his weapon, firing repeatedly as he felled four of these soldiers. Another soldier was halted by a well-placed arrow cast from Lokus and his bow. As the final soldier of this cluster neared, he wa
s surprised as Delegas rushed from behind Marro to strike the soldier solidly with his staff. With the opposition removed, Marro and the others continued their advance.
As more soldiers advanced, Marro holstered his weapon and procured another. Lokus started the next melee, firing again with his bow and striking an enemy in his face. As the elf fell from the attack, Marro again unleashed precise fury from his pistol. The mercenary’s assault felled three more of Thorindale’s ranks and sent the rest running for cover. With his ammunition spent, Marro put away the weapon and concentrated on holding Kaysa as he continued his push.
With the opening within reach, Marro drew his blade. Careful with Kaysa in his grasp, he exchanged sword strikes with an emerging soldier as Delegas pushed ahead, fighting another cluster of enemies with Lokus offering assistance. Holding his ground, Marro fiercely disarmed the striking soldier before running his blade straight through his enemy’s chest. As the elf fell to his knees, Marro pushed him off his sword with his boot before joining the others inside Thorindale.
Marro entered unhindered, seeing that Delegas and Lokus had cleared the way. Only Delegas appeared wounded from the exchange, yet the cut to his side was not grievous. Realizing they only held moments, Marro motioned for the two to follow him as he rushed down an open street to take cover between two buildings. The three ran swiftly before finding refuge amidst the panicking citizens and soldiers running the streets.
“It is an amazement to me that we’ve made it this far,” gasped Delegas between reclaimed breaths.
Marro gently knelt with Kaysa, now cradling her in his arms. “It is only through her that we have. We must finish this quickly if we hope for chance,” he said. In his grasp, Kaysa slowly stirred.
“What’s our destination?” asked Lokus.
Marro pointed north. “The king’s stronghold is directly that way, at the heart of the city. It is renowned as the Fortress of Ages, and it cannot be missed. It is the last accumulation of the old ways, and it is there that you will find King Thorien as well as the last of purity wrought from the soils beneath Thorindale. It is where we must take Kaysa,” he said.
The Last of Kel'Thara Page 21
