“You won’t be exactly killing him, but you will open his body to soul transmutation,” she reassured. “His body will then be engulfed in divine light, and he will transform.”
She motioned for Jules to approach the altar. The man walked to his captain, who had stood up again. They faced each other gracefully, and Jules greeted Cedric with a military salute to honor his years of service to him.
“Too bad I never got to kiss you,” he said with a playful smile. “Now I have to kill you.”
Cedric laughed cheerfully to his friend’s jest. “Only in your dreams, soldier!” The two laughed together.
Jules unsheathed his shortsword and looked to his peers, first back to Gideon, then to Ahna behind the altar. He brandished his sword, and the blade came in Cedric’s reach.
“Where do I strike?” Jules asked with a shrug.
His captain gently put his hand on the blade and led it to beneath his chest. “Here will be the easiest,” he declared with a noble smile.
Jules laid his hand on Cedric’s shoulder as he pressed the sharp edge of his weapon against him. The captain gently led the blade inside his body and emitted a suppressed sigh from the slight pain he felt.
With a short thrust of the wrist, Jules pierced through the fur, and the blade went through Cedric’s skin. When he pulled the sword out, Cedric toppled backwards and hung on the edge of the altar. He covered his wound, and the warm blood began to flow between his fingers. Jules took a few steps back to Gideon, looking upon Cedric in unsure concern.
The wind howled through the temple columns. As Cedric felt his lifeforce be drained, he slid to the stylobate floor and leaned against the altar. He looked to Jules and Gideon and inhaled deeply.
Ahna, who now stood behind the temple, raised her hands in a semicircle that faced the sky. She looked to the dark clouds that had gathered in the atmosphere and commenced the incantation.
As she uttered the arcane words, the clouds began to whirl and to amass above the temple. The swirling mass birthed more clouds that revolved round and round, forming the dark body of a newborn storm.
Ahna’s words became shouts in the old language of the elves and right over the temple’s cupola, a bright ray of celestial light surged from the eye of the turmoil. It slid into the opening of the dome and lit the shrine in radiance. The column of light stretched from the sky to the temple grounds.
Cedric, who noticed the shimmer behind him, pulled himself up. He now stood in the ray of light. From the eye of the storm, a flash of something unknown descended through the beam toward them, like a bright falling star. As it was about to crash into the open temple, a loud roar was heard. Cedric raised his head to the comet.
“There we go,” and he drew his final breath before it struck him with full force.
Jules and Gideon were thrust back to the ground. Ahna felt the wave of the shock just slightly but was forced to lower her arms to stabilise herself. The column of light faded into the air, and the dark clouds began to dissipate.
When the three rebels regained their senses, they looked to Cedric, who panted and kneeled on all fours on the temple grounds. Ahna hastened to him to check what had happened. When she almost reached the altar, she heard a muffled roar lash out of the shrike.
Cedric writhed and shuddered and crawled difficultly to the two others, his hand raised at them, as though he begged for their assistance. His fingers broke and bled as he scratched into the stone platform with his nails.
Something was wrong.
Jules wished to rush to his help, but Gideon held his arm in the way. Cedric screamed and turned on his back, stretching his body in agony. His eyes suddenly darkened, his pupils dilated, and he was able to twirl back on all fours. The groans ceased, and the dying shrike was no longer in pain.
His chest heaved as he recollected his thoughts, then he looked into the eyes of Brother Gideon. Cedric’s gaze was pitch black and remained fixed on him before a bright light surged out of his back. Another ray pierced through his skin, then another, and another. He wanted to claw through the floor, to tear the ground beneath him. When his hand was engulfed in light, he felt an immense power rush through his veins.
He hit the stylobate that fissured in two underneath his force. He grew larger, taller, bigger. A long wing sprung from his back and stretched between the temple’s columns. The other clashed against the cupola.
His neck felt as though it was being pulled from his spine. The bones of his face were shattered one by one and moulded into something new.
He let out another hammering roar.
Jules had to pull Gideon back so the cleric would not be hit by the giant growth of a dragon’s head. They both fell to the ground.
But something was definitely wrong.
The radiance that had submersed the shrike captain had faded into something darker. The swirls of a shadowy veil emerged from the dragon’s body and countered the light. The creature was not golden, but more of a pale and livid color. Its eyes were dead. Wounds from the flesh transformed bled along its scaleless skin. It growled like an enervated beast who had risen from a realm of nightmares.
Ahna, voiceless and struck by this horrid display, rushed to the failed dragon to attempt to soothe it, or at least bring it to calm.
When the monster heard her footsteps coming from behind, it slithered on itself and crept toward her. As it stared her down, its eyes suddenly lit up with a ghastly flame and its throat burned with spectral fire.
Before she could react, the blast of a furious flare expelled her off the temple grounds. She crashed near the edge of the cliff, and the failed dragon turned back and headed for Gideon and Jules. It marched with massive claws to the two frightened heroes, but before it could strike, Ahna crawled back up.
“Cedric!” she shouted. “Cedric, stop!”
The dragon, confused after hearing the shrike’s name, looked to her. It growled deeply in a moment of hesitation, but it quickly turned back to its target preys.
When it was about to strike with fire again, a lightning bolt surged from Ahna’s hand and clashed against the failed dragon’s skin. In a burst of rage, the beast swirled back to Ahna in a stampede. As it moved toward her, she could feel its cold breath and see a lost light in its eyes.
Its heart did not beat. Too frightened and petrified by this realisation, Ahna fell to her knees and raised her head to the lifeless slither.
In the darkness of its torn wings, the elf saw nothing but the failed dragon’s cold dead eyes. It was about to blast her off the cliff. She closed her eyes and exhaled as she braced herself for the impact of the funeral pyre.
But in the midst of the shadows, a humble figure slipped between the dragon and her and raised, in his hand, the holy symbol of Varko. The pendant fixed itself to the air, and the inner ring began to spin rapidly. Before the beast growled again, Brother Gideon uttered the holiest of words.
“Be humble under their mighty wings; tremble and flee when we call the god-kings,” his speech then became a holy shout. “Deliver us from the snares of the undying, oh, mighty Gods returned, in your divine light, the dead will be turned!”
The pendant stopped. The glow contained at the center of the mirror burst into a barrier of brilliance too bright to stare.
The dragon, blinded by the holy light, crawled backwards in unsurmountable fear. The beast toppled to the ground on its own weight and shrieked and squealed, terrified. A dark veil came to cover its body. As its wings slowly dissipated into the shadows, its long neck withdrew, and its head became a familiar face again.
Cedric laid on the ground by the steps of the temple, quivering in fear. Ahna immediately rushed toward him. She came close to him, to hold him, but he thrust her away in terror.
“What have you done to me?” Cedric screeched in horror. His voice broke.
Ahna tried to come close to him again. But he cowered back against the temple’s stairs.
“What have you done to me?” he wailed again.
When Gid
eon and Jules approached him, he crawled away from them.
“You sick monsters!” he shouted. “What have you done to me?” he roared again and again.
As the panic became too intense to bear, his eyes darkened again. The dark shadow began to slide along his limbs, and he shouted a series of uncontrolled words that did not make sense.
Gideon, too fearful of what would come next, signaled for Jules to get away as fast as possible. The cleric led the march back to the path. Ahna, who did not want to leave Cedric alone, refused to move. But Jules seized her by the shoulders and hauled her away by force.
Ahna cried for Cedric.
She cried for the terrified man at the foot of the altar. For the man who was about to transform again, into something even darker.
15
Brace
When the reality pulled Ahna back on track, she realized they had better run. As she reached the path with Jules, Gideon led the escape down the hill, and they ran and ran until the Temple of the Four Winds was no longer in sight.
When they arrived at the trail by the mountain ridge, they took a short break to catch their breaths. Behind them, they heard the loud roar of a smoldering storm echo in Gurdal.
Ahna collapsed to the ground.
She leaned on Jules, who attempted to help her back up. Gideon, severely weakened by the banishing oath he had just sworn, sat on a large stone for a break. Jules veered to him.
“What in Hell happened, old man? What in the ninth circle was that?” Jules demanded answers from the cleric as he held Ahna.
Gideon had to regain his senses to be able to speak. He remained silent for a moment.
The elf looked at him with dread in her eyes. “How could this happen, Gideon?”
The old man took a deep, staggering breath and shook his head. He wanted to speak but was incapable of doing so.
“What are we supposed to do now?” Jules shouted again.
“We go back to Fort Gal,” Gideon declared.
Jules helped Ahna up who was beyond desperation. “What kind of sick prophetic mess was that?” he asked again in a furious tone.
Ahna put her hands on his shoulders to calm him down. Gideon looked at her in hope for answers. She had named a dragon before, had a similar fright happened to Thamias during his transformation?
Though Ahna seemed so dazed that she could not provide sensical explanations. “Thamias’ naming was...glorious,” she murmured. “This was...this was...”
Jules interrupted her. “This was madness.”
As the lieutenant stepped back on the path, he motioned for the two others to follow him. They would head back to Fort Gal and reach by nightfall. They had no idea what would happen next. Jules did everything to hold his composure. He was absolutely clueless. Had he lost his captain? Would Cedric come back to Fort Gal, eventually? What was that horrible beast they had just faced?
Ahna could no longer speak and Gideon, the wise cleric, for the first time, felt betrayed by his own beliefs. He questioned the gods’ will. But as he pondered on the question, something in his heart called to him. He gazed east through the high peaks. The final battle was just beginning, and the prophecy had yet to grow more, with a quiet voice, a long murmur.
One of the sindur scouts stormed into the fort. She made her way to Councilor Luk Ma, who stood by the stables with the rescued horses. She greeted him with a gesture of respect and a humble meow.
“Councilor, they’re here,” she announced.
Luk Ma nodded and reported straight to Commander Falco.
In the nave, the last remaining soldiers of the rebellion were assembled. They each carried swords, spears, weapons they had been able to move to Fort Gal, and they were more determined than ever.
Sharr’s batallion had just advanced further up the mountain below the peak, and his battalion was within an arrow’s reach. David, who now stood with Luk Ma in front of the company, held his helmet close to his heart. He remained silent for a moment. Then he signaled for the gates to open.
The massive reinforced wooden doors slowly spread open, and the sunlight entered the fort. The soldiers saw, in the far distance, the dark shadow of the army of Sharr, below the hill. The horde marched ferociously in the snow toward the Peak of Gal, spears raised, weapons brandished.
David stepped outside the fort and looked to the parapeted roof of the cloister, where two dozens of Antlers archers stood with bows stretched, led by his old friend Senris, the vidthralfar captain. His own soldiers followed him past the threshold. David was ready for the battle’s closure, the final fight. Among his troops, Kairen stood determined. He looked to her, but she gazed ahead, resolute.
To the back of the company, Lynn marched among the swordsmen and women. They now all came at a standstill before the gates of Fort Gal. But Diego was nowhere to be found. In surprise, Lynn looked around for her captain, but he was not among the other rebel soldiers.
When she stepped outside with the rest, she noticed a familiar shape in the distance, marching close to the cliff’s edge to her left. The figure seemed to be dragging a heavy cart of some sort. Sharr’s army approached from lower down the mountain, but Lynn was too preoccupied with the shape at the cliff’s ledge. David was about to rally the soldiers, but the swordswoman discreetly paced to the side, toward the figure dragging the cart. She hastened, and as she got closer, the Taz woman recognized the outline of Diego, who pulled some sort of heavy cannon in the snow behind him.
The archers behind her were getting ready to launch a rain of arrows. As Lynn reached the edge of the cliff, she called for Diego’s attention.
“Captain!” she shouted. “What are you doing, Captain?”
She rushed to him. He had stopped by the ledge, away from the path but still very close to the fort. He turned his cannon around with difficulty, facing the fort and the Peak of Gal.
There, he spotted Lynn who ran toward him. “Lynn, get back!” he ordered.
When she reached him, she heard a loud battle cry up the path. She turned to the fort and saw, in the distance, David with a fist in the air.
“Diego, by the gods, what are you doing with this cannon?” she asked, completely confused.
The captain did not reply. He was too focused on moving the barrel to the right position.
Straight at Fort Gal!
“Have you lost your mind?” she asked urgently. “Aim this thing at Sharr’s army! Where did you get it anyway? What did you even load it with?”
Diego searched his coat pockets for a chunk of flint. As he kneeled to light up the cannon, Lynn shoved him out of the way. “Answer me!”
He gently put his arms on her shoulders to reassure her. “This is an old model. I just found it in the fort. And I loaded it full with a heavy bag of shock grenades!”
Lynn, perplexed, relaxed her stance and stepped aside. At that exact moment, she chose to trust her captain.
Diego kneeled back by the cannon fuse and pulled out his sword. He struck the flint downwards across the steel blade. After a few scrapes, the fuse lit. He then slowly pushed down the barrel to aim right above the fort.
“Shock grenades?” Lynn finally asked. “They don’t do anything but make a loud”—she then looked at the direction he was aiming the old cannon—“noise…”
She slowly began to grasp Diego’s plan.
Diego had aimed the cannon, not at Sharr’s army, not at the fort, but at the top of the Peak of Gal! The high mount that was covered with thick, fresh, everlasting snow.
“Now you get back, that’s an order!” he commanded.
Lynn stood still and looked at the fuse aflame. “You’re going to blow up the mountain...” she inferred silently.
“Yes, Fort Gal was built to withstand a snowslide. Now go back to the fort! Please...”
When the fuse was consumed entirely, a blast from the cannon was heard across Gurdal. Lynn and Diego had to cover their ears because of the deafening sound. A pack of shock grenades was propelled into the air and headed stra
ight for the peak. Upon the crash against its white mantle, the shock grenades exploded in a loud, hammering roar. The mountain began to quiver.
Lynn looked back at Fort Gal.
David, who was about to send in the last of the rebel army, halted his troops. On the horde’s side, the explosion incited the dokkalfar to charge. Each of Sharr’s soldiers ran up the final hill, weapons brandished, howling like a pack of crazed wolves.
When they nearly made it to the foot of the peak, the earsplitting sound of thunder resounded in the distance. They abruptly stopped and looked up. The heavy mantle of the summit had been torn in two.
The ground suddenly shook beneath them, and a white ravaging wave of ice and snow detached from the mountain and descended upon them. The seismic snowslide accelerated rapidly and grew larger and larger as it entrained more snow. Heavy rocks and mud were taken into the flow that raced downhill toward Sharr’s batallion.
Soldiers who had realized what had happened dashed backwards and began to run away. Panicked, they pushed each other, crushed each other underneath their stampede. Some fell off the cliff, some were trampled to death. The destructive white stream of snow engulfed them one by one, like a wave of savage horses that galloped down the slope.
As the torrent became too large, Lynn seized the arm of her resolute captain and dragged him back toward the fort.
“No time for heroics, let’s go before it takes us too!”
Diego finally heeded her call, and the two ran along the edge of the cliff. They made it back to the fort right before the avalanche’s tremor caused the cannon to fall over the ledge.
When they made it back to Fort Gal, David’s troops had already retreated inside. The two were let in, and the rebels closed the gates behind them. The reclined cliff protected the fort from the white tempest, and the Resistance fighters were safe.
The sound of the turmoil lasted for even longer, and they stayed silent as they waited for it to pass. Gods knew how many of Sharr’s soldiers had just been annihilated, perhaps even the entire battalion.
Tempest of Bravoure: Kingdom Ascent Page 20
