by Amy E Hix
“You cannot stop me!” the female Warlock went into a rage and knocked the entire group to the ground. She used the time they were down to raise her sceptre many times, lessening the number of warriors standing with Kellerson. She was tougher than anything they had experienced as a group before, simply brushing off the damage inflicted on her.
Winge casted his weakening spirit tap and followed it with a mind blast. She began to look dazed amid the warriors. Alysias took advantage of Jenla’s weakened state and drove her Shatari Swords deep into the Warlock’s body. Jenla staggered. Then Solecreation managed to knock her to the ground with the help of Natasul’s spirit of driving force bestowed on him.
Jaerra continued firing her bow, landing her arrows with nearly perfect accuracy. The concussive arrows helped to relieve Ryan of his stunning duties. Turk did a fine job keeping them all up, standing off to the side and making sure all members of his team were in plain sight. Occasionally he would rush over to place his hands on those with puncture wounds, then returned to his original position.
However, while keeping up on his tasks, Turk brought out his Healing Mace and struck Jenla a few times. The Warlock was already focused on the Cleric, whose efforts worked against what she was trying to accomplish. The battering by his mace didn’t help things. She took an opportunity when he was near to inflict him with a powerful bolt of electricity, knocking him to the ground.
“That crazy Turk! Get him out of there!” Solecreation shouted to Natasul, who had picked up Turk’s heals in the meantime. With Turk all right, Stheta shook her head and rolled her eyes. Some of the others gave a sarcastic grin.
My brothers and I began to take on Chesed’reg himself. The twins steadily poured out damage while I drew his attention. Swarms of insects confused his movement and a rain of lava began to melt away the tough armor that protected him.
Cyrow was taking it to the Digvi’jan leader like nothing I had ever seen before. It took everything I had not to become mesmerized by his maneuvers. After watching him for a few moments, I took his lead and synchronized my fighting from the front to his.
He landed a stun-lock, I capped a massive blow to the skull. Then I would use my concussion abilities as he jabbed deep into the sides of the red-faced mongrel.
Sigge and Raffe had every force known to nature working on our side. We were like a fine-tuned killing machine, the four of us. Well, add Loren and Stheta…and the damage dealers, too. Ok, maybe my definition of the brotherhood was growing a little.
Loren played a replenishing song, affecting everyone on the tower. Our strength and power began to increase once again.
Cenathor and Archaos, who had been taking cheap shots at every other Digvi’ja, joined us on Chesed’reg. Archaos lined himself up with Mabashi. The increased power from Loren’s song helped the Archers toss out arrows with unbelievable speed and accuracy, covering Chesed’reg’s body with the long projectiles.
He attempted to break off the arrows that were interfering with his movements. Cyrow used this time to land a few strategic hits into the sides of the ruler, causing tremendous internal damage.
For some reason, I felt different. And I noticed that we were all fighting just a little beyond our abilities. When I glanced around the edges of the tower, I could see the Ancients still hovering. They all had focused faces of a retributive state.
I knew what that determination could do in me, and I had only experienced a small glimpse of the damage caused by the Digvi’ja. I imagine if I had witnessed the hardships and losses of everyone on Gael for the past hundred years or so, I might look as fierce as the Ancients. Evil has no place in existence.
As I continued to fight him, Chesed’reg went into a fury rage, spinning violently with his sword held outward. The slashes made to those nearby cut them deeply. I had sprung up and backed away from the cyclone of steel.
Somewhere in the process, Chesed’reg knocked over the box of vials, breaking them instantly. The souls were free to re-enter the bodies of the warriors who were once again gaining hope in the winning battle. The souls that belonged to dead men simply disappeared.
Stheta began to heal those caught by Chesed’reg’s fury as fast as she could, but it was Cyrow who caught the worst of the rage. Not giving up on his Blade Maven duties, he had been struck three times as the Digvi’jan ruler spun around. He now lay on the ground beneath the Warlord, unmoving.
When I saw him fall, the anger inside me intensified to the point that I didn’t know if my body could handle it or not. I felt like I would explode, literally.
Infuriated beyond belief, I yelled at the ruler, “You will pay for that!” I drove my King’s Sword deep into Chesed’reg’s chest, easily piercing through the armor plating.
Sigge lifted Cyrow and carried him to the side. As Stheta covered Cyrow’s body, she began to say a prayer for his life. She picked up his limp body and drew it close to her, wrapping her arms around Cyrow and weeping that he might be spared.
The thought of our brotherhood flooded through her as she took on an empathetic spirit, drawing to herself the heart of our mother, Alyne, and knowing what this would mean to her.
As Stheta’s tears fell, I realized I knew what she was thinking. I had an amazing gift of internal sight to all those who fought around me. A Champion’s talent, and not just any ordinary talent.
The rare Gift of Celestra. I never knew what it meant until now as I led the group. I mean I saw everything. The total picture of existence, the purpose in living, in dying. Each person’s thoughts and how they were woven into the story of all time and space.
I continued to rip through the very flesh lying underneath Chesed’reg’s armor. I leapt up and landed on the backside of the ruler, taking the place of my missing brother and tearing into his spine with the cauterizing skill of Cyrow. Another flip brought me once again to face the Digvi’jan.
I felt a shield going out from me. A protective state of mind for everyone in our party. I wanted the hits. I wanted my team to be spared.
As I looked into Chesed’reg’s yellow eyes, I remembered all we had seen along our journey: the broken homes, the forced-out villagers, the fear in the people’s eyes, the charred home of the Centaurs, the mangled children back in Jalathiel, the dead bodies of the tainted wolfmen in Vahael…King Naethan’s generous smile. The rage inside me made my blood boil.
It burst from me like no strength I had ever heard of in Gael. As I hammered my sword once more into Chesed’reg’s body, the Digvi’jan ruler fell to the ground. But I didn’t stop there. Landing on top of the giant, I took out my father’s dagger from the sheath in my boot. And with it, I made a deep gash across the throat of Chesed’reg, causing the life of the ruler to spill out completely.
When I looked to Stheta, still holding my brother, I could see that Cyrow had become conscious again. I felt a huge surge of relief. She was working effortlessly on the remaining wounds to his weakened body.
The twins came over to assist her in bringing Cyrow to his feet once more. Cyrow had seen me pull out the dagger. The symbolic display of using our father’s dagger made him smile.
As he stood to his feet, I rushed over to embrace him. We were thankful for having our lives spared. With a quick burst of spirit from the twins, we all charged after the remaining Digvi’jan rulers. There were three left by the time we began to fight, for Solecreation’s group now stood above the lifeless body of Jenla, the Warlock.
Greshan was breathing his final breaths, and with a huge fireball, Zaaid finished him off. We then joined in on Killian. With a concentrated effort, it took very little to wipe out the Sorcerer, on his own tower, I might add. But before we could get to Hanbrig, the giant image of the old Hag appeared on top of the tower. We were all stunned and looked up at the image, as did Hanbrig.
She looked calm and authoritative, and she spoke to Hanbrig, “The deal has been broken. The laws that govern require the pay
ment of the Digvi’jan souls!” She was looking straight at the Council Leader.
He nervously tried to reason with the Hag, “But Kraevit is dead already.”
“Then I shall have those in charge of that peon. Are you all that remains?”
Hanbrig looked at Chesed’reg’s corpse. Killian and Greshan were dead, too, but even if they had still been alive, Hanbrig knew he would be next in line for the Hag. Upon this revelation, Hanbrig decided his fate would be better off in his own hands. He took out his sword to ram it into his heart, but not in time to keep his soul from escaping. Then he fell on the ground, dead.
We made no effort to stop the Hag. She was evil, but on this day, she was working for our cause inadvertently. We each realized that one day the lesser evils would have to be dealt with, but today was not that day.
“The Luminomes!” Pinky reminded us of our lighted friends still chasing or perhaps being chased through the tunnels beneath Aheb’an.
We repelled down from the tower and stormed through the corridors deeper into the surface, splitting up in search of the lighted Nomes. When we found them, the Orcs were all lined up against the wall of a large cavern, their faces buried into the rocky edges of the room.
A few Luminomes were attacking the blinded Orcs and many dead green bodies filled the floor. Those who remained were screaming with their monstrous Orc voices, their charred skin beginning to crack and break from the heat, revealing the red flesh underneath.
Some of the Luminomes were sitting contentedly on the ground. They were taking turns elevating the amount of light they produced. Some on break were even having a bite to eat in the background. Except for the awful cries of the Orcs, they almost seemed to be having a party in the damp cavern depths. The warriors of Rhalas and Minzkala, now trained with the proficiency of taking on the most evil and vile races in all of Gael, finished off the Orcs with great ease.
“What do your generous people wish of the Ancients?” Stheta asked Darian when everything had calmed down.
He thought about all the discussions between his people throughout the years, “I think we’ve done it. We are content to live out our lives in these mountains, and now we are free to venture into the lands beyond, should we ever gain the desire to do so. Without the fear of the Orcs and the Digvi’ja, we will live a more peaceful life, practicing the traditions handed to us by our forefathers.”
“Very well, then,” Stheta said, “These lands are now the home of the Luminomes. We consider it a great honor to have met such an inspiring new race of warriors, and should you ever need anything of us, do not hesitate to seek us out.”
“Likewise,” he answered her with a smile.
With their words, we bade farewell to the Luminomes and left them to make their way home, this time using the tunnels that ran through the mountains. We loaded up our gear and headed once again to the surface. We were all anxious to go home to our loved ones.
When we reached the surface, we searched the area for any missing warriors. There were only eighteen-thousand who would return home. We decided to wait for morning to begin our journey. Through the night, we cleaned up the battlefield, dragging corpses and burning them. If there were any survivors from the minions of the Digvi’ja, they had fled the area. And of them, the Grosteques posed the only future threat, as another Demon Master might find his or her way into their dwellings to set up shop. The Slickers had a hard time multiplying before the war, and now that there were even fewer, they faced extinction. The same fate followed any Cerapithali that might have remained.
The Ancients were gone. I had expected as much. They had returned to Celestra without the hassle of a goodbye, which left us all with our final memory being the one of them there, above the tower throughout the battle. And somehow, I knew they would always be around.
The Rocs made as many trips as were necessary to the west coast of the Gaemic Ocean, where the ships now lay…a final gift from King Naethan. Our trip would be shortened but would still allow us the time to think things over before returning home.
We could work through any thoughts of loss or failure and begin to recognize the greater gains made from our journey. There was a bigger picture to consider, one that involved the entire world of Gael, not just us, and not just in this present day. The very future of truth and justice would prevail as a result of our tireless determination to rid the lands of the Legion’s power.
Thirty
The Weary Road Home
Kaliesto
The Rocs flew low to the ground as they carried us to the ships on the coast of the Gaemic Ocean. Beneath us, throughout the western region of Sapir, we were able to see ruined cities from before the Caliginos War. We saw Acramon Sett, home of the Barbarians, off to the right of our flight path. The old cities and villages of the Dwarves and Humans were also scattered throughout this region. Some of the structures were still in workable condition, having been evacuated before the Caliginos could invade them from the east. Had they been the type of dwellings the Digvi’ja were accustomed to living in, they might have been used by them prior to this battle. But the Caliginos, the Digvi’ja, were mountain people and had chosen Vahael instead.
I thought about the future involving the remaining members of the Digvi’ja. I wasn’t sure where the clan would go, or how long we would have until they posed a threat to the people of Gael again, if they posed a threat in the future at all.
Turk came to me just as I was thinking this, and said, “High Chief Larawaine, wanted me to make sure King Naethan got this letter. I got a little distracted and didn’t remember it until I found it in my pouch just now.”
The letter was an offer to aid Minzkala. It spoke of post-war efforts specifically. I felt a little tug of direction from within and knew I would ask them to help us deliver judgment to Anamus Keep in due time.
The following day, we began to make the path back across the Gaemic Ocean to Rhalas. The quiet waters gave us time to rest and clean up before we landed in Maralune. There wasn’t a lot of talking among us other than conversations about our anxiousness to be reunited with family and friends.
When we reached the shore of Maralune at dusk, the Rocs and carriers were there once again to transport us using several short trips across the plains between Keymira’s Wharf and Rhalas. As we loaded, I was saddened to realize just how few of us would be making the trip home. But the people in Rhalas proved to be fully supportive and wouldn’t allow any of us to feel that way for long.
We were greeted with cheers and embraces and pats on the back. The sounds of the crowd, with their cries of victory, filled us all with a humble spirit as we gazed upon their faces, seeing again those for whom we had so tirelessly fought.
Floods of tables covered in food were set out into the main courtyard beneath the palace of Rhalas. The people sang vibrant songs of love and war. Loren and Valkryiex couldn’t help but join in, playing sweet music to accompany the voices of the people.
Papered lanterns lit the skyline above us, highlighting a starry night. There was not a cloud in sight for miles around. The children came right up to us, amazed at the rips and tears through our armor, begging to hear the stories of how they were incurred.
Every now and then, we saw a new widow or widower, in sorrow over their loss. As the tears fell, however, they seemed to muster a surge of strength and made their way to the teammates of the loved one. A sweet embrace between them signified the approving conviction in what had ultimately been accomplished through their deaths.
That night we sang and danced and told the people of the tremendous battles we faced. We told of the fearless Luminomes and how they effortlessly drove the Orcs to fear for their lives.
As the Herd of Virtue remained on the Palace Balcony, many stared at them in awe, listening to how the Unicorns had protected the lives of so many warriors. And in places throughout the city where horses normally weren’t allowed, the people welcomed t
he Centaurs and their stories of the battle, fascinated by the legendary horsemen.
Somewhere in the night, Vamble, Welkin, and Zarathustria left the city along with the other warriors who had been lost at sea. They had each said good-bye to loved ones and friends who were brought to Rhalas. They climbed aboard the carriers, which would take them to meet the Ancients near Minzkala. Afterwards, they would be granted a new life in Celestra.
My brothers and I, along with the other Court members, saw them off as the rest of the city continued to celebrate. It was a tearful good-bye, but we knew that not only would we see one another again; we would now have these beloved friends watching out for the people of Maralune.
When we returned to the ground, it seemed as though there wasn’t a single person who could sleep. Our excitement prevented us all from leaving. The stories and songs continued well into the night.
We could not, of course, leave out the story of King Naethan, who had laid down his life for reasons we still did not know. It wasn’t until the next day, on the flight to take the Unicorns and Centaurs home during daylight hours, that I saw it with my own eyes.
King Naethan’s death had broken down the walls of Minzkala, just as the old Hag had prophesied. But in doing so, his death allowed the splendor of Minzkala to spill out over the land.
The farm houses were now perfectly intact, the grasses green. There were birds of magnificent colors streaming through the sky again. Woodland creatures covered the ground. Beautiful, lush vegetation beyond any the Maralunians had experienced now flooded the landscape.
We looked down to see children playing near a stream far from the city’s walls, which reminded me of me and my brothers in our youthful days spent near the creek. Our flight took us as far as the Mourtaire Forest, where we could witness for ourselves the magical return of all things good and lively to the lands of Maralune.
