Otherworld Soldiers- Rise of the Apocalypse

by Fox Lancet

  1

  Trissana

  Straining against a dense blanket of smoke, three moons glowed faintly. Smoke provided a seething canvas for the rusted light of a vast flame. The billowing clouds roiled up from an inferno that raged across a valley of trees, consuming foliage like a tsunami.

  Scarcely visible through the orange tongues, wooden structures lamented their demise with cackling wails. Other cries joined the moans of the once solid structures. These voices belonged to living creatures now shrouded by the merciless blaze. Steaming carcasses littered the fire’s wake as unidentifiable black masses, burnt meat.

  Arching over the burning valley, a rock ledge curved like a talon. On its edge, a shadow watched the devastation. Sitting tall and erect, the shadow sat upon the back of a massive creature. Twenty hands high at the withers, the horse towered: a stack of powerful muscles and a stance of elegant refinement. Enveloped in a black, glossy hide, the animal’s coat reflected the dancing flames below. Its luxurious mane and tail were blood-colored and drifted steadily in the scorched breeze. The rider remained a black silhouette beneath the eclipse of a twisted tree. A black silhouette with radiating red eyes.

  Another shadowed creature with an imposing mount and red-lit eyes bled from the darkness behind the first. The initial shadow gave no acknowledgment of the new presence and continued to survey the frenzied fire below.

  “Hunter holds Celest below,” the new shadow spoke. The words spit and slithered from his mouth: a dialect of foul taste and discretion, the language a wretched sound. “I need not inform you to make haste, Lord, for Kaleb and Jacob have tracked us. They know now where the witch sojourns.” It ended the message with a hacking sound and proceeded to spit a mouthful of blood off the ledge.

  The original shadow turned its head slowly to put the other in its peripheral vision and affirm the message before turning its red gaze forward again, casting it above the smoke briefly before uttering a short, low command to its mount. Wielding around, the horse retreated in a thunderous gallop.

  From the ledge, the two riders were carried into the arms of a dark forest. Their steeds maneuvered expertly between crowded trees and vaulted effortlessly over fallen ones. The trees’ shade devoured the riders’ progress from moonlight out of reach from the smoke, leaving only the storm of hooves to be heard and the hint of motion to be seen.

  Two miles led the four creatures to a sheer rock cliff with a treacherous, narrow path. Marking the forest’s sudden drop into an abyss, the open edge revealed an immense skyline. Its view beyond the chasm was a plain of blue-painted canyons that reached out and evanesced into the boundless horizon. The stretch of crumbling canyon reached beyond sight and fell into depths no ear could define.

  Disregarding the view, the silhouettes dismounted and, without tying their giant equines, began a quick descent. Neither shadow paid heed to the narrow cliff path. Instead they scaled headlong down the vertical drop toward a gaping mouth several yards from the shelf. Their descent consisted of dexterous claws that penetrated the cliff’s rock like it was clay. When they dropped into the mouth their arrival reverberated through the throat of the cave before they were swallowed.

  After a tangle of ragged holes and black passages, the belly of an open cavern burned to life. The two silhouettes had maneuvered the labyrinth expertly and were greeted by the glow of a crackling fire. The darkness melted from their bodies to reveal two horned Demons of great stature. Hairless creatures, with swarthy black skin that shined like leather beneath their perspiration, halted at the fire. Their red eyes contracted to small dots in reply to the intrusion of resplendent firelight. Red dots on black marbles. Pointed ears were perforated from top to bottom with several silver rings. The larger of the two Demons, who now moved further into the cavern to gaze over the fire, also had a ring at the bridge of his long nose and some on each bald brow. He stood four inches over the other at a grand height of eight feet. Black lips rested over dire fangs that were accompanied by a purple mouth.

  The brawny pair were adorned with chrome arm plates, breastplates, thigh plates, and shin guards. Each had two swords sheathed on their backs and a spiked mace, splattered with blood, dangling from a chain secured at their belts. Both maces swung and made a quiet chiming resonance when the tiny skewers met the neighboring metal armor, a deceptively soothing sound for such malignant instruments.

  “Ah, Nefarion,” a female’s voice purred from behind the restless flames.

  Crouching under a low arch in the rock structure, the larger Demon gripped part of the stone ceiling and leaned forward to gain a better view of the speaker. Glossy sanguine horns became clearer in the firelight. Roots germinated along both sides of his skull and grew backward, curling down behind his head and returning to curl upward to his jaw before coiling in on themselves one more time. His counterpart had shorter horns that twisted downward, but quit at the nape of his neck.

  “Hunter, secure the passage before our enemies scent us and disrupt our time here with Celest,” the larger Demon commanded without taking his eyes off the female behind the fire.

  A figure that had not been apparent before poured from the shadows behind the female and moved through the orange belly of the cave. He was smaller than his commander, closer in height to the other Demon and his right horn had a jagged fracture two inches from where it would have tipped off near his neck. The other Demon turned and followed as Hunter, vanished into the cave’s labyrinth.

  “Celest,” the remaining Demon, Nefarion, finally replied.

  Sitting crossed legged before the fire, the female was draped in a black velvet cloak sullied with dirt. She regarded the Demon with an arrogant, somewhat irritated sneer. The features of her face never stilled. At first glance it appeared to be flames manipulating the shadows across the contours of her face. With scrutiny, the delusion revealed itself. Her face wavered like a reflection in a restless pool of water into a beautiful being with high cheek bones, absent nose, and a slanted, gaunt jaw to a disheveled, archaic image of the same beauty.

  The female gave a slight bow of her head, never allowing her small, bright eyes to deviate from his form. She made no attempt to stand, though she knew who he was, which meant she knew his sovereign status. This did not vex Nefarion, for Celest was a witch, and witches were independent creatures that neither worshipped nor served anyone apart from themselves. They were a greedy, selfish race albeit a highly edified and clairvoyant one, the reason Nefarion had called for her capture.

  “How may I assist you this evening, Dark One? It must be important, as I was taken without invitation,” Celest mentioned her untimely abduction without variation in her tone.

  Nefarion leered at her; little did he care what part of the witch’s time and life he had interrupted. “I would have to assume you are already aware of the answer to that question.” Nefarion took a seat on a large stone across the fire from her. She stared at him, expressionless for several seconds before she attempted a response.

  “You will have to bear with me while I acclimate to your language. I have little practice speaking and interpreting your tongue.” She watched closely as Nefarion bowed his head once in understanding.

  “Fortune smiles upon us to bestow you with the gift of many tongues, witch.”

  After a brief pause she forced a smile. “Indeed it does. However, I do not know all. Unfortunately, your assumption is false. I am brimming with all sorts of lore. Some tales tell of little, minute happenings about this ill-fated world. Other anecdotes consist of such considerable proportions that I myself, as spiritually adept as I may be, can hardly conceive what I see. With that in mind, hardly would I know who would be seeking these s
tories, these visions,” she finished slowly, her explanation hesitant as she gathered the proper words.

  The Demon nodded once again. “I understand this quandary, witch. So I will tell you that which I seek, and if you do not inform me of what I wish, I will take your head for the top of my throne.” Nefarion watched her, his features still.

  Anger flickered behind Celest’s unrelenting stare. “That is quite gratuitous. And will that be unwarranted if I do not hold the information you seek?” The anger in her eyes died.

  A smile slithered onto Nefarion’s face, the tips of his fangs peeking out from behind his black lips. “That is impossible, oh enlightened one,” he replied.

  “You are not one of discretion, nor are those you share your tales with. The story I seek is on the tip of every creature’s tongue. So much so that my most notorious enemy is in search of your words as fervently as I have been in search of them. I know you have an idea of what I wish to hear and I just cut back my enemy not far from here. So, without any more wasteful, aggravating banter, speak that which I wish to hear. Now.” Nefarion had leaned forward, his claws on his knees. After his demand, he relaxed slightly, leaning his back against the rock wall behind him and crossing his bulky arms over his chest.

  The uncertainty had drained from Celest’s eyes and she now looked at him blankly. She glanced into the fire, and then looked meaninglessly at the void in the cavern where Nefarion’s cohorts had vanished earlier. Finally, her gaze made it back to Nefarion, who watched her skeptically. She nodded, mostly to herself, then spoke.

  “You must be speaking of the otherworld dream I had some time past. It has become a popular myth I have been telling to those who enjoy hearing of a world less like this one.”

  “Yes, I have heard many variations of this dream, and once or twice I have also heard that you may be aware of a junction between Trissana and the world in your dream. Is this just glitter added to lore, or do you keep parts of your dreams to yourself for your own gain?” Nefarion inquired and paused, but before Celest could respond, his deep-throated voice cut her off. “And to encourage a bit of agency, let me warn you: if you do not tell me what I have come looking for I will kill you. I will also hunt you down and kill you if you send me chasing after nothing. However, if you tell me what I want, I will release you unharmed. Do we have ourselves an understanding?” The corner of Nefarion’s mouth quirked in a half-smile as Celest glared at him with a tight jaw.

  “Let me see…If these variations of my story are not true, and I know of no junction, you will kill me regardless?” Nefarion smiled fully and nodded. “Well then, tyrant, I think we have ourselves an understanding that I cannot amend. But fortunately for me, I have seen a junction. I have been wary of speaking of it to anyone to avoid this very predicament.”

  “Speak quickly, witch, we have not much time.” Nefarion growled, glancing toward the cavern entrance. Celest followed his gaze then closed her eyes.

  “The junction you seek is at the end of an arduous journey. On horseback, it will take you twelve moon-ascends to reach it. You should begin at the edge of Schyroline Forest and follow the direction of where the moons fall. After five moon-descents you should be near the Plains of Eslendor. Turn in the direction of the brightest star, Corrues, and cross the plains toward it for two and a half moon-ascends.” Celest’s eyes broke open when Nefarion stood suddenly.

  “That would put me near to the mountains where the three moons sleep.”

  Celest nodded, wide-eyed as Nefarion began hastily stripping his armor, leaving his weapons. Red scars exposed themselves in deliberate lines that reached around the sides of his torso, and atop his shoulders from his back.

  “Then where shall I take passage?”

  “Take your journey along the Mountains of the Moons, toward the red star, Manthred for three and half moon-ascends.” Celest relaxed and closed her eyes, but jumped when Nefarion let out a roar.

  “Kaleb and his warriors are heading this way. I want you to finish as we evade them. We will be climbing up over a large pit so I advise you not to let go.”

  Celest watched him acrimoniously as he chanted to the fire, which then receded. She witnessed Nefarion’s eyes grow red in the invading darkness. Before she could oppose their departure, she felt herself lifted up off the dirt floor by the giant Demon. He tossed her onto his back and forced her arms around his thick neck.

  Nefarion slid through a disguised hole that had been waiting in the shadows behind Celest. He moved quickly through the cave. Celest could see nothing, but the monstrous king never faltered.

  “Speak, witch!” Nefarion roared through the cave air assaulting their faces.

  “I cannot continue with my vision in such a state! I need relaxation and calm!” Celest yelled back. And just as she finished, she felt all of Nefarion’s muscles harden as he jolted beneath her. A feeling of weightlessness followed, then the sound of claws crushing stone, accompanied by an abrupt halt to their movement. Celest could feel them dangling as Nefarion climbed upward.

  He growled fiercely. “What do you take me for, witch? Speak! I hardly believe my presence has brought you calm!” He paused momentarily to take in a shredded breath as he continued to climb upward. “Perhaps I could persuade you by opening your eyes. We are suspended over an abyss that even I do not know the depths of. If you do not continue with the location, I will be compelled to abandon you here.”

  Celest shrieked. “You are an impertinent creature. Your threats are fulsome and ill-bred!” She was about to continue but caught her breath as she felt his claws wrap around one of her arms. She screamed. “No! Wait, you destitute creature! I will continue! Just give me a moment’s peace to collect my reason!” Her next breath out was sharp and she relaxed briefly when she heard his claw return to rock. No further words passed between the two as Nefarion continued his ascent.

  When moonlight began trickling down the rock toward the duo, Celest took in a slow breath.

  “You have one moon-pass left. By now you should be near to the lowest point of the Mountains of the Moons. It is in your best interest to take that path if time is of the essence. When you have reached the top, again follow Manthred to take you to a cavern just below the Peak of Strace, the first moon.”

  Nefarion pulled them through a small hole hidden in the forest floor. He pushed black moss and orange twigs away and let Celest slide from his back. As he stood, he looked in the direction of the cliff, just yards away. A band of small, white horses grazed nearer to one colossal black horse. Nefarion whispered to the wind and the dark horse became alert to their presence.

  “Then?” he spoke detachedly to Celest. She looked at him with disdain, his attention still on the nearby horses. When he made another quiet sound, the horse trotted toward them. Nefarion grabbed her arm and dragged her through the thick forest to meet the animal. When the horse reached them, Nefarion mounted up and wrenched Celest onto the creature’s back before him. “Then,” he growled again.

  Before Celest could respond, there was a sudden clamor of horse hooves. Nefarion roared and sent his steed leaping forward. Celest looked past Nefarion’s arm to see that two of the white horses had been mounted and were gliding toward them. The glowing white eyes of the horses’ riders indicated that Nefarion’s enemies had discovered them in their backdoor retreat.

  The forest provided nothing but a floor of protruding obstacles as the horses raced between trees and rocks. A canopy of vegetation towered above them, soaking in the moonlight before it could reach the innards of the forest. Yet random spires of moonbeams were still able to permeate the dense shield of growth, giving out pools of chaotic illumination. Celest held her breath against the lashing night air and against the speed each tree came at them. Even with the powerful creature beneath them, Celest could see the white horses, like ghosts, gaining on either side. Their physique was small and light, making them like birds on the wind.

  Nefarion brought his horse to an abrupt halt; it skidded through the forest rubble, i
ts pounding hooves giving way to a moment of calm. The creature reared back and veered around swiftly, the enemies’ cries of warning to each other were buried beneath the storm of hooves. Soon even the beat of the horse’s feet was devoured when Nefarion released a deafening roar. Celest recoiled, attempting to cover her ears without letting go of the horse. Nefarion paused for only a moment before he released another equally earsplitting roar.

  As they neared the cliff again, Celest could make out two shadows quickly approaching through the dark thicket. One flew through a spilling of moonlight and Celest could see it was one of Nefarion’s advocates, also mounted on a giant steed. They rushed past him on either side without a second glance. Nefarion slowed his horse, but did not stop it.

  “Finish the journey’s story, Celest,” he demanded as a branch whipped her cheek. She gritted her teeth against the burn of broken flesh. The blood crawled down her face, warming the skin.

  “There is not more to tell, the junction awaits you in the darkness that is the cavern found in Strace Peak,” she spat.

  “Your blood smells sweet,” he taunted her. “But tell me, is there anymore I need know of this junction, to open it, to close it, to enter it?” His words slithered distastefully through the air around Celest. Before she could respond, she caught sight of a white figure plunging from the sky of trees like a large trickle of moonlight falling through the blackness of the forest without leaving a trail. It fell in perfect synchronization to land on the back of the moving horse between Celest and Nefarion.

  The horse cried out brusquely and lumbered backward, keeping its footing even as it stumbled over a fallen tree. The abrupt visitor struggled to stay aboard. When the horse finally steadied itself, the gleam of Nefarion’s red eyes met the glow of his enemy’s white ones. “Kaleb,” he murmured through clenched fangs.

  His combatant sneered at him, an inexplicable gesture for such an angelic face. Nefarion’s enemy, otherwise known as Seraphs, looked their name. Eyes that took up a great deal of the upper half of their faces were pale blue, although it was hard to see the color past the luster that the large, almond shapes radiated. A small nose, and pouty, lavender lips accompanied the bright eyes. Their skin was milky white and without flaw. Their ears were long and pointed. Seraphs’ hair was severely thin while color ranged throughout the clans. Kaleb’s hair was white and he kept it chin length.