by Fox Lancet
“Have fun.” Saliea assisted him in getting the mask over the skewers of his hair before turning on her heel and heading for the couch.
She plopped down gracefully, catching Nefarion’s eyes. He watched her as she lay down, her eyelids heavy.
The last image she saw before fully drifting into dreams was Nefarion propped on a stool, hunched over the metal counter, concentrating on the tiny metal pieces in front of him.
10
Strace Peak
The day was bright and the red orb drifting in the sky emanated little heat and the temperature seemed not to exist. Though, high in the Mountains of the Moons, the breeze was frequent and when it was about, it was cool and cutting.
At the moment, the air was gravely still. Kaleb tramped cautiously through the littered forest. He was near Strace Peak, but his chest was suspiciously empty, when it should have pounded gently with the presence of his brothers. The emptiness filled his head with doubt and his limbs with dread.
In addition to eliminating the Demon sentinels that had originally been posted there, including their giant equines, he had left the gate with thirty-some skilled Seraphs and twelve of his most loyal and expensive Slecktics. No Demon had been left alive, save for the ones that had pursued his brethren through the gate toward the end of the short-lived battle.
Either Nefarion had returned sooner than expected by chance or a Demon guard had evaded his sight and reported back to the Demon Lord.
Kaleb cursed and scaled a gaunt tree nearby. From that height he still could not see the gate through the distance; a plethora of green and cobalt leaves impeded his view of the vast gap.
He slid partially back down, just below the branches so he could start vaulting silently between the wooden torsos. He paused briefly after just a few hurdles, wondering if it would be better for him to approach closer to the ground. If Demons had truly returned, they would be watching the trees. He noted the thought and propelled along several more trees before deciding to dismount. Right before he went to rejoin the ground, he stopped and clung tight to the bark, stifling a cry.
Several trees away, Kaleb distinguished many stiff forms swaying ominously between the gaps. The dread and emptiness that had been accompanying him quickly transformed into horror and rage. It was never enough that Nefarion merely kill his brothers, but he always made a point to turn it into a hideous spectacle. He clenched his teeth, barring a scream of anguish in his throat. By the number of dead hanging in the trees, Kaleb could surmise that it had been an ambush. Seraphs were quick and if a true battle had been waged, some would have evaded to inform Kaleb.
As his fingers dented bark, Kaleb surveyed beyond and about the dangling corpses. His anger receded and awe struck him, his jaw slacking as all his consciousness comprehended the entire situation. There was not one or two or even three of Nefarion’s wicked regiment basking at the mouth of the gate. Rather there was an impossible amount of Demons lounging and permeating the absolute expanse of the peak. To some reluctant fortune, Kaleb was aware it was not the entire First Legion. Though, it was a majority and the Seraph fought the thought of where the remainder may be. Even if he turned back to retrieve his army, too much time would be allowed to pass.
His second in command, Jacob, was on the other side and if he found the key and returned, it would wholly be in vain. Not only that, but the number of Demons waiting at the gate attested to Nefarion’s position: the Otherworld. Kaleb had to cross. He had to intervene with the Demon Lord and he had to warn his brother. However, Kaleb had made this gate journey alone and a message needed to be delivered back to his people, to his army. For even if Kaleb managed to cross, what were he and Jacob to do on their return? Somehow break the ranks of hundreds of Demon warriors? There was no hope without waiting for them to disperse or without summoning back up.
While mulling over all of the obstacles impeding him, Kaleb had climbed into the enveloping branches of the tree. He found a window in the leaves where he could perch on a strong branch and keep an eye on the movement of a large section of the oppressive enemy. After settling in, a white form arrested his attention and he hissed in a breath.
“Aisleen,” he grumbled. “Traitor wench.” The condemnation could not be contained, but he verbalized it in a raspy whisper to avoid the acute ears of the female Seraph.
The lithe, delicate form among such wretched beasts was abashing. Kaleb sneered at the wings that confirmed her wicked ascendency. She stretched them out in an angled arch behind her back, silver and sapphire veins delineating richly through their translucent film. They folded carefully inward again, matching her height from head to heel. She moved in the path of one of the towering black Demons.
Once the fresh disdain for Aisleen wore away, an idea peaked in Kaleb’s thoughts.
“Of course, how could I not have considered that immediately?” He unwrapped himself from the tight branches and descended to the trunk again, retreating by means of trees in the direction from whence he had come.
Feeling that the saddle between Strace Mountain and Delaphane Mountain was sufficient to send his call, he perched high in a tree and settled in as the sun slowly began to sit behind the mountains. First he made a low whistling call that shifted in three pitches before he set his hands behind his head and leaned against a sturdy branch, closing his eyes.
Kaleb had left his steed at the foot of the saddle and the call had been for him. It would take him until full dark to arrive. Now Kaleb made a more difficult call. One to a renowned female Seraph: Lenees. A secret among the Seraph clan--to keep her identity and skills veiled to the enemy--Lenees was a rare exception to the rule. Having gained keen telepathic power, she was the most powerful healer ever developed without loss of her light.
After her wings had broken through, she had been kept under close surveillance. Confined in a small, well-lit room and chained by her ankles, Lenees had been interviewed four times a passing to monitor her moods and responses.
Ultimately the clan had decided there was no true way to tell if she was in her right mind. For after seeing full ascendency in Aisleen, they were aware of the clever deception one could cultivate in the transition. However, everyone had remained skeptical that she had turned since Aisleen’s ascendancy was clearly marked by her significant use of healing in a short span of time, whereas Lenees had been one of their disciplined users. She practiced slowly in the beginning, gradually increasing its use with no signs of change until after one performance that had meant life or death for the wounded Seraph in her care. When he was healed and stood, Lenees had collapsed and the wings had sliced out of her back while she was unconscious.
The final conclusion had been to armor up and release her. After seven passings of the moon with no incident, the clan started letting down its guard. It was ages ago now and still, to the moment, a small portion of the clan distrusted her.
Kaleb regarded her as a powerful asset, and she seemed pleased to be considered so by their leader.
I hear you, Prince. The words formed like a song in his head just as he heard the light footfalls of his steed, Alliander, at the base of the tree. Alliander snorted his arrival then sifted patiently through the decaying foliage and fallen leaves.
How quickly can you come to me? He projected the thought clearly, though Alliander’s presence had clouded his mind slightly. Kaleb waited a moment and forced sound and thought from his head and asked the question again.
Before the fall of the moons. Shall I make known your need? Kaleb’s lids parted slightly to view the deep cluster of stars that now dominated the black sky.
Yes, but tell the first brother you find and no others. I need you as soon as possible. Warn him that things are far out of our favor. I will present you with more details when we are together.
I am searching now, it shall not be long.
Kaleb sat up and slid down the torso of the tree. Alliander greeted him ecstatically, prancing up to him.
“No, my friend, the time is dire.” He rested a han
d on the neck of his steed and set his forehead against his hard, white cheek. The lank horse sighed impatiently and stomped a foot. “I know. Lenees is on her way to keep me company; you must return to the clan.”
Alliander whinnied and shook his long flowing mane, eyeing his keeper with concern. Kaleb patted the creature’s shoulder. “Go, now.” When the horse did not immediately heed his command, Kaleb added, “Please.” Alliander bounced his head reluctantly before dashing away.
Just as she had promised, Lenees arrived just as the moons had drifted near the mountains. Their pink faces, ravaged with dark craters, floated complacently overhead. A soothing spectacle. Delaphane, the second moon, was bound by seven crystalline rings and was the largest, almost overtaking Similion, the smallest moon. Similion was in the constant company of three of its own tiny moons that appeared as bright stars.
“I am here, what do you require of me, Prince?” She landed silently in front of Kaleb and smiled gently at him. Her long, white hair poured down her front, tickling her slender stomach. The light of the moons encouraged her skin to glitter more than usual. Despite the severity of the recent situation, he could not help but smile at her visage.
“Thank you for coming so swiftly, Lenees.”
“Ah, you never need thank me, dear Kaleb.” Her features tightened and the lightness of her mood darkened. “There is an awful and enormous power lurking near. What has happened?”
Kaleb dropped his eyes and scanned the ground aimlessly.
“Lenees, the enemy has overtaken the gate with at least half their capacity.” Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth. After a short silence she spoke.
“It must be more, Kaleb. I feel a thousand and hundreds.”
“I do not doubt it. On the peak itself, there are only hundreds. Where the rest reside I can only ascertain that it is not far. Nefarion has crossed. That is the only cause I see for such forces.” He ran a hand down the smooth skin of his face.
“What do you mean to do?”
“I must cross to keep him from the control element and to warn Jacob.”
Lenees’s face remained contorted in desperation. “But how will you cross and how will you return safely?”
“That is what we will discuss now. Calm yourself, Lenees, anguish does not become you.”
Her features reverted into astonishment which Kaleb found bearable on her perfect face.
“Yes, Prince,” she finally murmured.
“Unfortunately, it is time we revealed you to the enemy. It is the only way.”
Lenees straightened proudly and lifted her chin.
“And so shall it be.”
* * *
Calious was tense, Aisleen’s presence distracting him. She had arrived just a few moon-descends after Nefarion had crossed. Seeming determined to stay close to him, she ghosted his steps from the gate to a salient ledge that provided a clear view of Eslendor below and the distant seam where Schyroline met the desert. Here he could partially make out the black mass of the other seven regiments at the base of Strace Mountain.
He had barely acknowledged her and she had not attempted to detain any further attention. The act was making him anxious, feeling the eyes of the troops on the display. No matter where he was they were surrounded by Demons, and falling out of eye sight with her on his heels would seem devious.
After three moon-descends of her constant trailing, Calious finally elected to question her.
“Aisleen, what is your purpose here?” He clenched his fangs as he warranted her to speak.
At the inquiry, she moved closer to him, magic humming from her and trickling across his hide. Calious cut short the shudder that tried to tumble from him at the feeling. A growl rumbled low in his chest, though it did not perturb her into backing away.
“None really, the fortress merely became unbearably quiet and boring. Its emptiness with the near complete depletion in power of its residence is rather daunting.” She kept her voice low, irritating Calious. The Demons they walked by could easily pick up her voice; however, it still came across as conniving to more distant eyes and ears.
“True enough, Aisleen, though why do you insist on shadowing me?” Calious had come to the ledge overlooking the desert and put an end to his chronic rounds of the five regiments. Several Wrath soldiers camped nearby, exchanging cruel jests and laughing insidiously. The casual banter erased some of the tension in Calious.
The sun was lowering itself behind them and the Rings of Delaphane were peeking over the horizon of slick black cliffs beyond Schyroline, cutting a magnificent silver blade into the pink sky.
“A fair question.” Aisleen crouched on her toes and began tracing designs in the dirt meditatively but without purpose. After a pause she answered, “I have always favored you. Though I knew of your blind hatred of me, so I simply appreciated you at a distance as not to rouse your fury.”
A light breeze broke through the trees, disturbing her wavy, ice-colored hair. His back was to her, but she could still sense his sneer. “After our more intimate encounter, I thought perhaps you may perceive me in a new light.”
“My hatred for you was, and is, not blind,” Calious pushed through clenched fangs, his irritation culminating at her confession. “You are born of the enemy and therefore you remain so.”
Aisleen stood abruptly, stepping closer to his back, causing an evident shiver in the Demon. The anger that had risen in her faded and came through as an arrogant smile when she recognized the reaction.
“Liar,” she hissed. Calious turned his head, noting a Wrath soldier’s glance, and moving the female into his peripheral vision.
“Step back, Aisleen.” She stood solid, not even her eyes moved. His lip curled and he made a minor turn in his hips to meet her dead-blue eyes. “Do not persuade me to force my request, Aisleen.” Red lit in the center of his eyes and he waited. A vague smile appeared suddenly on her face, its making so subtle that the transition had gone unseen.
“If it means your touch, then by all means…” She paused effectively. “Force me.” The end words were joined by a fiendish smile. Calious frowned deeply, turning completely toward her.
“What do you want of me, Seraph?”
Her flippant demeanor vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
“Is that not obvious already? And do not refer to me as such, I will not have it and nor will the Lord. The reminder is not necessary.”
It was Calious’s turn to smile maliciously, pleased that he had exposed a sensitive nerve in her. His reaction seemed to infuriate her further and a luster grew in her slanted eyes, hiding the pasty coloring of her irises.
“I will call you what you are. As I said before: you were born such and will remain so, Seraph.” Aisleen still had not heeded his demand of stepping back and Calious had not deigned to move away either and their discourse continued a breath from one another. Aisleen’s chest rose and fell as she attempted to contain her anger.
“You should know I chose you because I knew that you were the next to become Elite. Your power is what drew me and what continues to do so. Your insults will not dissuade me, Demon.” Again, her confession steeped his irritation further and his mood fell to match hers.
At this point he knew they must have been attracting an avid audience of red eyes. The sun had completely abandoned the sky, and all of the moons basked above the opposite horizon. He felt his own eyes heated with red.
“Enough with your abhorrent aspirations of me; they are making me ill.” Calious took in a ragged breath.
“Only if you end your denial; it is apparent that you are repressing something.”
“Merely my vomit at your oppressive proximity.” A mellow din of Demon chuckles reminded the two verbal combatants of their surroundings.
Aisleen broke eye-contact and glanced about acrimoniously, a smile cresting on Calious’s face when their audience voiced its approval. Her eyes shot back to Calious’s with a sudden air of ingenuity and he met the new gaze with suspicion.
&
nbsp; “Insult me again, I dare you.”
Calious squinted at her before letting his gaze float across the numerous pairs of curious glowing eyes watching intently.
“Why, Seraph? Does your soul ache to be braided when humiliated? Where would you like me to begin: that the mere sight of you makes me want to slit my own throat? Your scent produces boils like that of a Slecktics?” He had all of the Demons in ear-shot laughing uproariously. His face smeared in arrogant pleasure as he spoke without pause. “Shall I continue?”
Twirling, Aisleen threw her head back in a high pitched bell-of-a-laugh, her long hair swaying after her like a banner. The area dropped into a confused silence. She had moved several paces away from Calious before turning back to him, her features dark with dire intent.
“How appropriate for you to mention the braid, and no, that is quite enough. Now I have something I would like to share, that I might redeem some ground in this disgusting display of superiority.”
She flipped her icy hair behind her shoulder, staring Calious down. “I planned to tell you this privately, but this moment seems all too appropriate.” Calious could not help stiffening at her ambiguous words. She lifted one of her bald brows and smiled in disdain.
“Flakson?” she inquired without looking away from Calious. A nearby Demon stepped from the collection of attending soldiers, one of the regiment below Wrath: Pride. He eyed Aisleen incredulously and looked to Calious warily. “I healed you not so many moon-descends ago, did I not?”
“You did, Aisleen,” the Demon answered frankly.
“What for and what was my method?”
Flakson glanced hesitantly between the Elite commander and the female, at a loss for the interrogation.
