by J. M. Topp
Fuck it.
Bendrick swung his sword and cut her head clean off. The head bounced on the stone floor and rolled to a stop, staring at him. Bendrick turned, reacting to footsteps behind him, and in a downward strike, cut another woman from top to bottom. The armoured daemons reached the edge of the Square of Ancients with shields and swords raised. Bendrick blocked a steel sword and hit the skeletal jaw of the daemon with his hilt. Bendrick’s feet twisted, and he placed the head of the daemon locked in-between the blade and his own arm. He tossed the blade over his shoulder, sending the daemon’s head flying into the fray with a spray of blood.
The Aivaterran knights held their own. Though they were terrified, their unending training was serving them well. They formed a line, and each one held their shields up, blocking daemon and crazed-human attacks.
Crash!
A horse and its rider were thrown against a wall, splattering blood onto the stones. Bendrick turned to see Gruizoch stamp his foot over a knight, crushing him, armour and all. The beast moved like nothing Bendrick had ever seen. It shouldn’t be able to move with such speed—not a beast as massive as that. Gruizoch wielded the warhammer as if it were a feather. The horned beast cleaved another armoured knight into two pieces. The beast caught Bendrick’s stare and laughed. He pointed his large warhammer at him.
‘You! You got away last time. That bitch sorceress can’t save you now!’
Bendrick spat and charged at the beast, but as he neared him to cut his flesh, Gruizoch lowered his large horns and struck Bendrick with them. Bendrick barely had time to block the attack with his bastard sword. Gruizoch roared and tossed Bendrick to the ground. He lifted his leg to stamp him out, but Bendrick leapt of the way. The power that had resided in him still had some strength. It protected Bendrick from the beast’s explosive roar. His chest glowed blue faintly. Gruizoch saw this and pointed at his chest.
‘The power that was in you—it was stolen from the gods,’ said Gruizoch with a growl as he shook his head and mane. Bendrick swung again, but this time, much to Bendrick’s horror, the Minotaur caught the sword in his hand. The blade cut into his flesh, and small strings of blood fell onto the cobblestones. With one hand, Gruizoch bent the bastard sword and let it fall from his hand. He smiled evilly and licked the wound on his shoulder.
‘I was nearly a whelp the first time I bled from a sword. Lately, it has been happening often, but I cannot say I do not enjoy it. The sight of my own blood gives me chills,’ the beast said, the hair of his mane standing on end.
‘Why don’t you go back to hell where you belong!’ Bendrick picked up a spear that had fallen on the ground. He leveled it at the beast.
‘You think we came from hell? That’s cute.’
Gruizoch lowered his horns and charged at Bendrick. This time, Bendrick wasn’t fast enough. The horned beast smashed into Bendrick’s side and flung him into the air. Bendrick twisted in mid air and landed on his feet. He doubled over, clutching his stomach. Bendrick looked down to see blood seeping from his side, but then saw a bloodied spear beside him. Bendrick picked the spear up in one hand, but the beast wasn’t finished. Gruizoch gripped the end of the warhammer and charged at Bendrick. The beast’s horns tore through the air. Bendrick stepped back, blocking with his steel spear, but the warhammer bent that as well.
Gruizoch spun the warhammer in his hand and brought it down on Bendrick. Bendrick closed his eyes, knowing that it would be a quick death.
Clang!
Trystrem stood before him, shield held high. The shield didn’t bend like Bendrick’s weapons had. Trystrem clenched his teeth and stared into the beast’s horrid face.
‘This is a blessed shield, washed in hallowed waters and prayed over for years,’ Trystrem said as his arm trembled beneath the weight of the shield. ‘It is the shield you will be vanquished by!’
Trystrem screamed and plunged the halberd into the beast’s side. Gruizoch smiled and opened his arms, allowing the halberd to pierce his side. The horned beast clutched the weapon in its hands and growled.
‘Yours will be a quick death, knight.’
Gruizoch dropped his warhammer and tore the pointed halberd head from his side. Trystrem looked up in horror. Gruizoch grabbed the shield and yanked it off the knight’s arm. The Minotaur tossed it to the ground. The leather straps hung loosely from Trystrem’s arm. Trystrem twirled the halberd over his head and struck at the horned beast. The beast raised his hairy arm and blocked the strike. It snorted and, with ungodly speed, dashed at Trystrem, fist clenched to kill. Somehow, Trystrem read its movements and ducked out of the way. His rhino helm wasn’t so lucky, however. The cracked horn and face clanged onto the stone floor. Trystrem glanced at the helm in a panic.
Gruizoch snorted and stamped on Trystrem’s foot, crushing it where the knight-captain stood. Trystrem screamed, unable to move. Gruizoch lowered his horned head and sprinted through him. With Trystrem’s foot as an anchor, his body was torn in half. Rain of blood and bone splattered onto Bendrick. Trystrem’s mangled body fell to the ground. Gruizoch stamped on his chest and head for good measure.
‘I deeply apologize for the interruption; you now have my full attention.’ The monster leered, licking its jagged teeth. With no weapon, shield, or armour to speak of, there was no way Bendrick would be able to defeat this beast. Bendrick glanced down at Audry, who was still on the ground beside the pile of kindling.
‘How quaint, Apostle. Even in the face of death, you show concern for others.’ The beast snorted and looked at the girl lying in the shadow of a pyre of fire. ‘Truth is, you wouldn’t want that girl. She broke faster than anyone. I had a go at her myself. I believe she passed out at some point. She is useless to anyone now, save for kindling. She’s not even fit to eat!’ The beast laughed. ‘You will understand exactly what she feels, Apostle.’
Bendrick stood and stared the beast down. His chest began to burn, and a small blue flame poked from him, burning his leather shirt. ‘A daemon such as yourself has no place in this world. I’m not saying that I am the one to vanquish you, but I will not make my death any easier.’
‘That’s what I like to hear!’ Gruizoch smiled cruelly, his eyes burning bright.
An explosion overhead rocked the stone floor. Bendrick turned to see barrels of black powder being hurled into the Square of Ancients. They landed at the feet of daemon and knight alike.
‘What is it with you humans? Don’t you see you’re killing your own?’
The question caught Bendrick off guard. Suddenly, a gauntleted arm reached out and grabbed Bendrick, flinging him onto a horse. It was the woman knight he had seen earlier. It was Joan. She raced past Gruizoch. The rider was a Holy Silver Angels Knight, and she carried Audry in her lap on the horse. The naked and unconscious monarch, the last of the line of King Elmeric, bounced on top of the horse. The knight raced her horse in-between pyres of fire.
‘We have to get out of here.’ Joan glanced at her sides, looking for an exit.
‘What about the others?’ asked Bendrick.
‘There are no others.’ The knight spat at the ground. The Aivaterran knights had been all but destroyed. Barrels of black powder continued to fly overhead, causing tremors for each explosion that went off. The horseshoes of the steed clopped against the stone streets. Joan took a bend too fast, almost causing the horse to slip and fall, but the steed held true, even with three riders. They passed the cracked and broken stalls. Daemons were beginning to amass behind them. Inhuman screams and growls were heard behind them. Bendrick glanced back to see Gruizoch walking in the middle of the street, dragging his massive warhammer. Sparks jumped from the friction of metal and stone.
‘We have to return to the Hallowed Masters. They will know what to do,’ said the knight to herself, as if trying to convince herself that there was a solution to this awful mess. The knight shouted at the horse and urged it faster through the streets. Suddenly, a wave of heat hit Bendrick and the knight. From above, three winged creatures four times t
he size of eagles blotted out the sun with their wings. Dragons. It was impossible. Dragons had died off eons ago. Bendrick looked up again and realized that they were wyverns. Their wings were clawed.
Not that it makes that big of a difference.
One of the wyverns blew a stream of fire behind them, singeing the back end of the horse. The horse, now crazed, bucked the riders off. The knight fell in her heap of armour and Bendrick landed on the stone, feeling a crack in his arm. He could hardly breathe. He looked up to see that his left arm was bent and broken. Audry lay next to him, still unconscious. Bendrick looked up to see the horse be completely consumed by fire from the skies. A wyvern clutched the screaming and burning horse with its massive claws, lifted it into the sky, and tore it in two. Bendrick stood and clutched his side with his good arm. The knight picked up Audry in her arms, and they both ran into a building with a broken door.
‘What do we do? Those daemons are all assembled outside,’ said the knight. An explosion rocked the outside. ‘We’re going to be torn to shreds. That is, if we don’t get blown up first.’
Ayda.
Bendrick knew that he could not defeat Gruizoch on his own. He would have to rely on the daemon residing within the young child. If only there were a way to contact her. I told her to stay near the king for her protection. She might have fared better if we were in changed places.
Bendrick looked through the small, broken room. The tables were crushed, and there was clearly a body beneath the rubble. Its arm was hanging from the timbered wood. But what caught Bendrick’s eye was the weapon the arm was holding. It was a tracer: a sword-like weapon with a slight curve to the edge. It glowed green in the firelight. Bendrick picked it up in his hand. Though it seemed light, it also seemed dangerously sharp. It would do well against any daemon, but not against a daemon such as Gruizoch. Bendrick shook his head. Being in the very presence of that beast was traumatic. A beast such as that one had no business treading the earth. The knight was looking over Audry.
‘She’s still alive, Oredmere be praised,’ said Joan as she took her bear cloak off and wrapped it over her. ‘She is the last remaining LaFoyelle. She has to get out of here.’
‘There’s no way out, knight.’
‘Oredmere’s will is everlasting. She will make it out of here.’
Bendrick chewed his lip. This is it, Sieglinde. The moment I have been waiting for. I will see you now. Joan looked up at Bendrick to see him walk to the door, curved foreign sword in hand.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I am going to buy you time. Get her to safety,’ said Bendrick, pointing to Audry.
‘Why? You aren’t even Aivaterran,’ protested Joan.
‘Audry and I were friends. I’m doing this for her,’ Bendrick said as he peered through the broken wood. ‘Stay near the shacks. Perhaps those damned wyverns won’t spot you.’
Bendrick rushed out, and a barrel of black powder landed right beside him. Bendrick stared at it for a second.
‘Shit.’
The barrel exploded, sending Bendrick flying against a wall. It was strange. He didn’t feel anything, not even warmth. He saw wisps of smoke lift from his body, and when he looked down, his skin was charred. Bendrick coughed, and he tried to look through the smoke. Gruizoch stomped through the smoke and stood over him. Bendrick looked down at his legs. Bone stuck from them, and muscle could clearly be seen. His sword arm was completely gone, the foreign sword along with it. Beneath his charred flesh, the chest mark was still glowing blue. Bendrick tried to prop himself up with his left arm, but his broken bones gave way.
This is how I die.
The beast’s cloven hoofs stood before him. Bendrick looked up as high as his broken neck would allow. A shrill scream was heard over the ruinous walls of Aivaterra. The great horned beast snorted and raised the warhammer over his head. Bendrick raised his arm, feebly. Gruizoch brought the warhammer down in a deafening swoop.
Sieglinde, I will look upon your face once more.
ACT III
CHAPTER TWENTY
Baptism
DARK WATERS BURNED like bitter acid inside Elymiah’s lungs as she struggled for breath. Her body slammed against the steel spikes of her cage, piercing her flesh and causing blood to pool in the water around her. The iron cage plunged through the deep river of the Kingsoul and hit the marshy bottom, kicking up mud. Elymiah, despite her heavy wounds, pushed the cage gate as hard as she could. The heavy padlock clanged against the iron bars, mocking her attempts at escape. Elymiah beat her elbows into the small gate, cutting her flesh on the spikes. Her breath was escaping her. Elymiah knew that she didn’t have much time. She focused her efforts on the door, which didn’t have spikes. She rammed her shoulder on the iron, despite her dwindling strength. Her lungs burned as the last of her breath escaped her. Then, and as if her eyes were playing nasty tricks on her, a broken red horn sped through the current, as if shot from a bow, and hit the padlock. At first, the point of the horn was stuck in the padlock. Elymiah watched as the horn began to glow red and hot. Black waters began to boil as the horn grew hotter and hotter. The metal of the padlock began to melt, and then it shattered into a dozen pieces. The horn was torn away and disappeared into the muddy current. Elymiah slammed against the gate once more, forcing it wide open. Elymiah pulled herself into the dark waters and forced her arms against the strong river current.
But she was too weak to fight the mighty tides.
The tide instantly pushed Elymiah to the murky bottom of the Kingsoul once more. She kicked her legs fiercely as she tried to swim through the clouded waters. It was too dark, and she couldn’t tell exactly where the surface was. The swift current pushed her through the black waters. Elymiah opened her eyes, but she couldn’t see anything—only the bits of mud that clung to her face. Elymiah cried out for breath, but only more water entered her lungs.
This couldn’t be it—after all that she had gone through, all that she had fought and bled for. She opened her eyes once more, and Robyn’s dead frame appeared before her in the murky waters. For a moment, her heart stopped. His eyes stared directly into hers.
Robyn’s smooth and beautiful skin sparkled in the water. Her heart rose, but then before her eyes, long and skinny black fingers reached from the darkness and began to tear at Robyn. Elymiah tried to scream, but nothing but bubbles came from her mouth. She tried to swim to him, to save him. Elymiah stopped before his body in horror as the fingers tore the flesh from him, tearing into blood, bone, and muscle. The skin of his cheeks was pulled back, revealing sinewy muscle and teeth. Robyn screamed underneath the water, causing a spray of bubbles from his open mouth. His faded scream sent horrors into her eyes. A grey, knobby hand shot from his mouth and grabbed Elymiah’s arm. Elymiah struggled to fight the grip of emaciated fingers, and her vision began to blur. The fingers dug deep into her arm, but Elymiah began to relax and close her eyes.
This was the end.
‘It’s okay to be scared sometimes.’ Robyn’s words echoed in her mind. A warm feeling covered her face. Perhaps it was blood masking her face. Her body went limp in the twisting current of the Kingsoul. Her arms and legs were tossed and turned as Elymiah hit the bottom of the Kingsoul, over and over again.
Robyn, I am scared.
Elymiah’s tears were lost amidst the waters. Elymiah’s god had abandoned her. Her country had banished her, and her love had perished because of her own selfishness. How could she have been so stupid? The cold gripped Elymiah to the bone, and her eyes began to dim. A faint ray of light hit her face. With one last effort, Elymiah forced her eyes open once more. Light shone through the surface of the waves. Maybe she had been pulled to a less deep part of the river. Elymiah could see the reddened skies on the surface of the river.
It wasn’t over. She wasn’t dead—yet.
With a swift kick of her legs, she shot up through the surface, but when she tried to draw breath, she choked. There was too much water in her lungs. Her eyes rolled into the back of h
er head as she fell below the waves once more. Suddenly her feet felt the soft mud of the bank of the Kingsoul River.
Elymiah kicked herself onto the banks. She writhed in agony as black waters surged from her open mouth. She struggled and fell into the mud of the river. Black sludge clung to her body as Elymiah finally took in a breath with a loud gasp. The air burned her lungs as they expanded, desperately attempting to inhale. She began to cough violently. Her body shook and shivered as she moaned amidst the heaving. Frosted winds blew from the river, coating her naked body. She heaved and vomited onto the banks once more. This time, it was mostly blood. She fell into the vomit-and-blood-soaked mud. She stared up at the red skies. Elymiah’s chest rose and fell faster than she thought possible—as if her heart would burst from her chest at any moment.
Elymiah kept her blistered mouth wide open as she tried to inhale oxygen back into her lungs. Her body ached and burned as her legs and arms were coated with wounds where the steel spikes had pierced her skin. The left side of her face was numb, and she could barely see from her left eye. Elymiah knew her cheekbone was broken from where the Protector had struck her with the hot iron. She tried to focus on her breathing, but she couldn’t control it. The burning in her lungs was causing more pain than the drowning itself. The dark waves lapped at her legs as mud seeped in-between them. Elymiah turned to her side and vomited water once more.
