“Aili . . .” he whispered.
The champion vocalized in response to the female scream.
Faolan sized up his opponent and thought about his tactics. He straightened and stood tall, taking a deep breath and focusing his vision as best he could. He laid his right sword on his other shoulder to relieve the injured arm of the added weight. He angled his stance toward the right and lifted his left sword before him. He had a very specific attack in mind. It was unconventional, to say the least. He knew Gavina would not approve. This attack would be a final effort, victory or death. His muscles were weakening, and his mind was growing dull. He hoped he had bought his friends the time they required for his was running out.
When he felt his stance was sufficient for his chosen attack, Faolan said, “I will ask only once. Forfeit. If we continue, you will lose your life. I do not wish to take it.”
The beast responded in its hyenalike voice. “I no forfeit.”
Suddenly, an invisible pressure wave burst outward from Faolan and rushed through the champion. The air distorted, and the atmosphere grew heavy, weighing down on the beast’s shoulders, pressing it into the ground. The creature labored to breathe and anxiously stepped forward on wobbly footing.
A trickle of divine power seeped into Faolan’s soul as the young guardian remembered a distant memory. His demeanor changed abruptly, and his face relaxed. He showed no emotion at all, and the champion experienced genuine fear for the first time in its life for Faolan’s appearance was intense and terrifying. No longer did a weak, green-clothed guardian stand before the champion. Now he was a fearsome warrior the Hyip didn’t recognize. Scars littered Faolan’s body yet his face was devoid of any disfigurement. His previously open wounds had disappeared, and he was no longer bleeding. His hair was much longer, and his eyes radiated white light. Long black pants were now his only garments. The only thing unchanged was his posture.
Great white wings unfolded from behind his terrifying form. The feathers of the massive wings glowed ever so slightly. They expanded to their greatest height, high above the field of battle, a symbolic halo above him.
The champion took an apprehensive step backward.
For a mere second longer, Faolan stood still, not even a feather stirring in the rising wind. The champion’s eyes grew wide, and its jaw slowly dropped as it noticed the sky fading into complete darkness. An absolute veil consumed the sun, and the sky’s blue hue grew darker than a night devoid of moon and stars.
Faolan’s left sword rose ever so slowly and pointed directly toward the champion. With a thundering voice now echoing his own, he spoke the champion’s solemn judgment: “Yield before me or fall beneath me.”
Then as abruptly as the vision started, it ended. All was as it had been before the vision.
“Not elf. Not elf!” the champion said as it gazed at its once-again bloody opponent.
Faolan was confused by the champion’s sudden outburst. He shook his head, a tingly, fuzzy sensation clouding his mind. The guardian could not remember what had just happened, but a feeling of lost time bothered him.
The Hyip shifted into a defensive stance and cried out, “Winged. Evil. Not elf.”
The champion’s words struck deep within Faolan and reminded him of Aili’s words back in Lesley. Her words had been similar.
What happened? Did I black out again? Faolan wondered.
The champion howled. “You must die! Threat to us.”
Faolan tried to clear his mind and collect himself. He had to finish this fight. The others were depending on him. This was his chance, while the champion was distraught. Faolan ran forward, ignoring the pain pulsating through his left foot. Ten feet from his target, he slowed his pace and adjusted his swords. He lifted his left sword out to the side, near shoulder height, and slightly lifted his right sword off his shoulder.
Five feet from his opponent, he leaped vertically into the air. He could not afford to miss in his current condition, so he opened his blood-coated left eye for his attack. When his hips reached equal height with the champion’s chest, he quickly twisted his waist counterclockwise and spun a full rotation. His left sword fell diagonally before the Hyip, missing the creature by inches; the attack was merely a decoy. His rotation continued, and around his body descended his right sword. The offensive tri-teeth of his right sword cleaved into the champion’s left shoulder and broke its clavicle. The sword lodged itself in the champion’s first rib. Faolan landed in a deep crouch, still tightly holding on to his embedded sword as an anchor, bending the champion down toward him. He recoiled his left sword and rotated the tri-teeth downward.
At that moment, the champion’s fate was sealed.
Faolan swung his left sword upward in a deep, arcing attack. The tri-teeth thrust upward and slid deep into the Hyip’s stomach. The champion howled in pain and dropped to its knees. Faolan released the hilts of his swords and stepped back.
The young guardian was immediately struck with remorse as he watched the champion fall. He had killed before, but he had never witnessed the extreme emotions flowing through a fading life as he was with the champion before him. The Hyip’s expression exuded panic and distress as it felt its life fading. Tears streamed down the creature’s face as its jowls tensed from the overwhelming pain now coursing through its body.
The Hyip’s eyes pierced Faolan’s as confusion and sadness raged in a tumultuous storm within the dying warrior. “You. Not elf. World. Fear.”
The champion’s eyes glazed over. Its form wobbled, and then it fell face down into the bloodied grass. Faolan’s heart dropped, and he was ashamed. He approached and removed his swords from the now-lifeless form. He then rolled the champion onto its back. He closed its legs and crossed its arms across its chest. He knelt beside the dead giant and lowered its eyelids. He stared at the lifeless face, and an air of grief filled him. His heart was unexplainably pained. He remembered the tears in the champion’s eyes as he struck the killing blow. It was not an evil creature. The champion was another soul seeking its path in this world. Faolan closed his eyes. A deep breath filled his lungs, and when he opened his eyes again, a tear rolled down his face.
He was not aware of his own words as he instinctively whispered under his breath, “May you be forgiven and accepted, and may the gates above open for your soul.”
Faolan wiped away the tear. After a moment of paying his respects to the fallen warrior, he rose to his feet. He took his swords in hand and sprinted toward the south. He moved swiftly, but his injured foot kept his speed in check. He vanished into the southern tree line. With every other step, sharp pain coursed through his left foot, but he did not care what damage was done to him. He only cared for the others’ safety. His vision deteriorated as thin trees blurred into large ones. His balance also began to fail him as he stumbled through the forest.
Only one thought managed to sustain his fading mind: I will not fail.
A scream sounded from the southwest. Faolan adjusted his direction midstride.
His right arm now dragged its sword along the forest floor. He could feel almost nothing now, numbed by blood loss. The left side of his face was covered in blood, and his right sleeve was heavier than it should be.
It was by grace alone that the trees broke before him, and he entered another small glade where his friends were struggling. He stumbled to a stop and tried to assess the situation. The conflict appeared to be at a standstill. Neither side attacked nor gave up their ground.
Caedmon faced the most opponents—four Hyips in a crescent formation—though the Hyips kept a fair distance between themselves and Caedmon. Treasach stood with sword and shield drawn. He was facing off with two opponents, one to his left and the other to his right. They were attempting to flank his defense. Gavina was nowhere in sight. Possibly fighting elsewhere or possibly dead.
Finally, Faolan’s eyes rested on the blurred form of Leith, who stood between a single Hyip and his sister. Aili clung to Leith’s back as he swung his short sword wildly. His
frantic attacks failed to even come close to his enemy. The Hyip produced a hyenalike laugh at Leith’s fearful defense.
They were all so absorbed by their own conflicts they failed to notice the bloodied newcomer, and he planned to take advantage of the present situation. He had chosen his first mark and knew, in his current state, his first attack would have to make an impression because there was no assurance he would still be conscious after the collision. He hoped at the very least it would provide a distraction for the others, causing holes in the Hyips’ defenses. He charged toward the laughing Hyip, who was oblivious to the imminent danger.
Faolan’s sprint ended, and he leaped toward his target’s back with his blades raised high overhead. At the very last moment, Leith saw Faolan’s swords descending beyond his attacker’s shoulders. Faolan brought down his swords with all his might onto his ignorant victim. Both sets of teeth slid with ease into the Hyip’s back and burst out the beast’s chest. Leith and Aili jumped back at the awful sight. Faolan’s knees slammed into the back of the Hyip, shoving its body forward. The lifeless form smashed into the ground with a loud thud, and the young guardian landed hard on its back.
Faolan’s lungs struggled as the world distorted around him. He stood up, and his face rose to meet Aili’s awed gaze. The world seemed to go quiet. Her lips moved, but her worried questions failed to reach his brain. His eyes glazed over as he felt himself disconnect with the physical world. The others’ worried screams went unanswered as the young guardian’s darkening gaze shifted.
Faolan turned to his left and failed to register the fearful expressions plaguing the other Hyips’ faces. Everyone looked at him as they realized the severity of his condition as well as the sudden understanding that Faolan alone had slain the Hyip champion.
Faolan unsheathed his honorary dagger and staggered toward Treasach’s nearest attacker. The wary Hyip watched as the impetuous warrior approached it. When the young guardian reached the beast, he jabbed at the blurry figure. The Hyip reacted to the sloppy attacks as best it could.
Treasach took advantage of that opportunity to take down his other opponent, then turned his attention to aid Faolan, but as he spun back around, he watched Faolan’s dagger slip into the remaining Hyip’s chest. Faolan released the small hilt and let the beast collapse into an eternal slumber. The warrior’s feet shifted about as his balance worsened, and his vacant stare extended into the distance. Treasach rushed toward Faolan, dropping his sword and shield midstride. The prince dropped to his knees and caught Faolan just in time as the battered Shadow Guardian’s legs buckled. Faolan collapsed into the prince’s arms, and Treasach looked into his eyes. They stared distantly into the sky and did not react to the changing shadows.
Faolan was unaware of who caught him but voiced the only words his brain could register: “I will not fail.”
Then the world finally faded into darkness for Faolan.
Chapter 10
“The Slumbering”
“The true Temperean Seals of three, hold the titans of old in deep slumber, only to wake when they are called. Molder of lands, shaper of rivers, and replenisher of life. They approach with might and cleanse the land of its past, to begin a new age for Verdunmull.”
The Ikalreev Prophecies 24:3–5
Gray clouds covered the sky in a sheet, and mist filled the air. Zauvek and Waremasu’s clothing dampened, becoming laden with moisture. The old angel could feel the heaviness of his clothing in the dreary weather as they traveled east across the human lands. Rolling grasslands spread out around them in all directions.
Zauvek glanced around and heaved a heavy sigh. His ailing heart caused him continuous pain and weakened his body from its forever-dying core. His muscles burned, his bones ached, and his footing was faithful but never guaranteed.
He glanced back through his wiry white veil of hair at his companion. He eyed the enshrouded being following him and found discomfort. Waremasu was his friend, but he feared for how long. He wondered if he could somehow explain to the unstable ally why he had done what he did, possibly reasoning with him and pleading mercy. At least he hoped Waremasu was capable of mercy.
Zauvek felt a tap on his shoulder, and he jumped. “What? What is it?” He turned and looked at Waremasu with a tensed face.
Waremasu pointed toward the north and wrote on the air in orange script: One of the three.
Zauvek looked in the direction his ally pointed, and he saw a large plateau that extended far into the distance.
“The titans,” Zauvek murmured. “Which one resides there again?”
Waremasu shrugged. I did not protect these lands.
“Ah, yes, Eu’tuma,” Zauvek whispered. “Onbaiai Plateau.”
How do you know? Waremasu wrote.
Zauvek eyed his ally hesitantly. “I must have heard it from another angel, perhaps Razbijen or Igtharia.”
No reaction followed from Waremasu.
Zauvek turned away. “We should continue. We are not far from Kinwood.”
Waremasu placed a hand on Zauvek’s shoulder, and the old angel paused, slowly turning back around.
“Yes?” he asked.
Will it wake soon? Waremasu wrote.
Zauvek shook his head. “Hard to say. Eu’tuma’s seal is the second; one of the dark ones will need to open it by touch. If the beast roams the lands, then we don’t have long.”
Where would Razbijen have fallen?
Zauvek glanced around. “I don’t know exactly. The winds could have swayed his trajectory, and some time has passed since his fall, at least in the mortal realm. He would no longer be where he fell. He would have begun a life somewhere.”
What about his memories? What if he remembers?
Zauvek shifted his weight and moved his staff to his other side to relieve a sharp pain in his hip. “His memories are sealed away. Only powerful emotions will return them or the sight of familiar things or persons. Though not always—the exact triggers for remembrance are not finite.”
He paused and eyed Waremasu, fearing the righteous angel’s return because he knew either way his fate had little promise of a good outcome.
“If he remembers before he returns to righteousness and faith, then this world is doomed, and we are naught but dust,” Zauvek said. “His heart must be with the light for us to succeed, for it all to be stopped.”
Is that possible with the corruption and evil in this mortal realm?
Zauvek nodded. “Yes, but if he is tainted by the darkness of these lands, then it will not be easy to return him.” He paused and glanced up at Waremasu. “He must remember with no malice or darkness in his heart or mind. If he does, then he could become the darkest of them all.”
We must hurry, Waremasu wrote.
Zauvek nodded. “Let us go to Kinwood.”
He turned around and continued east with Waremasu close behind, bobbing up and down with each step. The old angel’s one-two-three rhythmic steps set their pace as the dreary mist did not lessen. They walked over the rolling plains as the tall grass swayed in waves under the gusts of the chilling wind.
As the sky began to darken, they neared the settlement of Kinwood. They stepped onto the dilapidated streets of the old human town. The decaying buildings were missing side boards and occasionally windows. Candlelight glowed from some structures, but it quickly went out as the strangers’ footsteps were heard. No voices sounded on the air as pure silence hung on the wind.
“Kind folk,” Zauvek said over his shoulder.
Waremasu’s head swiveled as he looked from building to building for any sign of movement or life.
“Looks like we will have to wait until morning to have any luck with this town. These people are scared and will not come out in the dark of night. We should find a place to wait until they wake,” Zauvek said.
They walked a bit farther down the road, before turning down a narrow alleyway. They both sat down in the alleyway’s dank quarters; awful smells permeated the air. Zauvek had directed them down the al
ley in hopes of preventing any unwanted attention; the last thing he wanted was more unnecessary scuffles with locals. Waremasu nearly unhinged at Vira; he could not afford to lose Waremasu when they so desperately needed to find Razbijen.
He glanced over at his ally and wondered if they would make it.
Waremasu was turned away, watching the main road.
Zauvek shifted his gaze to the damp dirt below. His thoughts churned as his tainted heart clawed at his mind. His past ambitions were counter to his survival now, paining him greatly. So unwise was he to think he could rule over Verdunmull without the Divine One finding out. He didn’t know where his lust for power rose from, but the darkness in his heart wove into him during his time as a jailer. Stationed outside the gates of Hell to slay any evil escaping, returning it to its chains below.
He had been a warden, a divine soldier, one of the host. The darkness in his heart brought him low, and he was angered at himself. How did he become so distant to the light, so weak at withstanding the dark? Part of him wanted the plans he set into motion to work, but part of him did not. He was torn and struggling between what he wanted to do and what he had to do. His fists were gripped tight as his eyes concentrated on the dirt below.
Waremasu’s hat swiveled toward Zauvek, and orange script illuminated the air: This town is much quieter than the last.
Zauvek saw the dirt lighten and shifted his eyes to the script.
He listened for a moment. “Yes, it is.”
A light breeze rolled through the town, and the hours slowly passed. Deep in the night, a scream rose high on the air, a girl’s.
Waremasu stood up, but Zauvek remained low in the alley.
Several more screams sounded on the air, but from only one direction.
Waremasu peeked out down the road. He saw no light, no movement; he could only hear screams from one or two girls and an old woman. From deep inside his shroud he watched, observing the horrors of this unfamiliar world.
Verdunmull Page 12
