by Colin Ososki
But the viscous foe was timely. Before Tarrian reached him, he raised a blade and swung at him. The blade cut across his unprotected stomach, drawing blood that landed in a dark splatter on the ice. Tarrian landed on his feet beside the man, hurt, but not finished. He delivered a sharp blow to the man’s arm, fracturing the bone. A cry of pain came from him, but then a terrifying attack. The man swung again at him, and with impelling force it left a large crack in the ice, but did not hit Tarrian.
The parliament member then began to cry and scream, for the brutal claws of Abraham were dug inches deep into his back. In agony, the man fell to his knees to the force of the pain, shaking and trembling from the mutilations taking place on his body. Then the screaming was silenced, for Abraham’s claws were removed from his back, but with them came pieces of the man’s spine, torn from under his human material. Abraham swung his paws high in the air with the blood-drunk human bones and smashed them into pieces on the ice. Abraham and Tarrian stood together and let out a roar of pride, before rushing back into battle.
Rezzifer was alone. He was not attacking anybody, but rather was avoiding them. He felt that something was terribly wrong. Am I to kill these metal men? They have done nothing wrong. I am terribly sorry, my brothers, I am conflicted. His deep thoughts and frustration quickly drew a rage from him that he hadn’t previously known about. He let out a ferocious roar and lashed out his paws at the nearest creature. It was another rebel, a lynx who had been running by. The lynx stopped, sliding a bit on the ice, and turned to Rezzifer, spitting out a flash of blood. A small, broken tooth landed on the ice as well.
“You attack me?” Asked the lynx, slowly stalking towards him. This lynx was quite larger than Rezzifer. “Nothing attack me,” the lynx said, followed by a fierce grunt.
Rezzifer said nothing, instead he let his confusion and control him. He felt his paws raise and strike the back of the lynx, grip into flesh and fur, and rip back with great force. The lynx was smashed to the ice hard, and then he turned his head around to look up at Rezzifer, who was standing over him with a dark. The lynx began to say something, but Rezzifer cried out and forced an impelling paw at the lynx’s throat. Rezzifer could feel the blood pulsing, flowing around in the lynx’s body. The weak thing was trying to speak, trying to breath, but Rezzifer would not allow. He felt all the anger in his mind being forced into this harrowing choke, and moments later there was no life left to drain out. The lynx simply dropped his head on the ice. Rezzifer retreated, taking a step away. Damn this.
-----
Lyrah stood on the edge of the Bay and heard the sounds of the battle in the distance, a rumble of terror. There was a great deal of screaming, far out. But the Forest stood still, stood silent. This, Lyrah decided, was creating fear. I need to go, now. She crept from her position to a low hill of snow, moving farther and farther towards the North of the Bay.
It was devastating. When she had reached the ice she saw the horrors of war, the collapsing of soldiers, the death of human beings, and the crushing power of the metal men. We are not holding...We are going to die. Her thoughts were leading her to terrible visions. She shook her head violently, making them go away. Should I stay? She saw Oslo’s division in the distance. Closer, she saw Tarrian’s division taking a massive amount of damage. She thought she spotted Rezzifer from where she stood, but wasn’t sure. Perhaps I could help some of them along the way. But I stay to the North, no turning South for a moment.
-----
Mr. Charlie stood still as stone, watching the skies through the glass ceiling of the courtyard. The great tiles of glass ran with cold water from the sky and were frosted by snow, but still the stars shined bright enough to see clearly. The golden, metal framing glistened in the moonlight like water. Mr. Charlie could hear the thunders of battle in the distance. It was an awesome rain, a storm, a clash of power. Besides the frightened, little animals that roamed the courtyard, he was alone. He reached up a trembling hand towards his face, and touched the mutilated, gruesome skin, feeling numerous scars and the coarse, dried blood.
He felt strange. In the distance, growing louder and louder was the sound of a single screaming lynx. Lit only by moonlight, the room became submerged in shadows, and in the lonely darkness, Mr. Charlie softly spoke, “I am truly sorry, my dear brother.”
BURNING SKIES
Oslo and his only remaining follower, Heylemith, reached the entrance of the Hall and slowed to a stop near the great stairway leading to the doors. There were five metal men standing guard at the top of the staircase. Both lynxes ran up the staircase with impelling speeds. One of the metal men aimed at Heylemith with a strange, metal contraption and suddenly light was bursting out of it, and little projectiles were soared at Heylemith. Fortunately, he was agile and timely, avoiding the attacks. He leaped forwards with great power, taking down the foe by its metal torso. Oslo attacked the metal man farthest to the left. He easily was able to rip out its throat and toss the dismantled body away from the staircase to the ice below. He looked over and saw Heylemith demolishing the last of his opponent with his teeth.
Mr. Charlie, who awaited in his courtyard, stood breathless. He held a single golden blade in his hand, sheathed but ready. He heard the roars of his enemy outside his doors. Patience.
The last metal man stood tall and struck at Heylemith, missing by a mere hair. Oslo then lashed out a massive paw at the creature’s face, creating multiple cracks in the shiny, white surface. The metal man staggered for a moment, and the lynxes made no attempt to show mercy. Heylemith leapt onto its back and ripped out its spinal cords in a swift move.
Heylemith let out an astounding roar and continued in a burst through the front doors of the Hall. Oslo stepped forwards and yelled, “No, Heylemith! Stay back!” We were supposed to wait! Oslo looked back at the battlefield; neither Abraham nor Tarrian was in sight. Heylemith, that fool!
Heylemith stepped into the empty Hall alone, without panic, only speed. There was no human or metal man in sight. “Where is Mr. Charlie!” Called Heylemith, only to hear his own voice echo throughout the building. He’s in this building somewhere.
Then, something stopped him. From somewhere close, the muffled voice of Mr. Charlie came forth, “I am here.”
-----
Silence. Dead, utter, silence was what draped over the shoulders of the forest. Not even the sounds of the battle out at Bay could be heard. It was precarious. Farhisk was beginning to grow curious. All the rebel warriors stood still.
Then came the noise. Farhisk heard it first; a strange buzzing noise coming from somewhere far off in the distance. It was very quiet, but noticeable. What is that? It was moments later when he realized that the sound was indeed getting louder. “To arms!” Farhisk called out. Every human in sight drew either a bow or a blade, and every lynx prepared their battle claws.
A human by the name of Richards called out to Farhisk, “Farhisk!” Many others looked at Richards strangely, as did Farhisk. He continued to call out, “Far–” Richards stopped speaking, for suddenly the mysterious buzzing sound was gone. It was total silence again, but for the wind.
Then, from what seemed like nothing came a flash of light near the Bay, and then moments after its disappearance came a sound. It was a shrieking, ear piercing sound, like that of a scream, but it sounded more machine-like. Then, again from what seemed like nothing, came a traveling beam of light through the trees and struck the ground near Richards.
The light vanished, but in its place was a screaming mass of blood, bones, and fire that was once the poor Richards and the surrounding archers. A few nearby soldiers began to cry out, but it was still silent in the forest. Farhisk suddenly grew a great deal more sensible. He listened again for the buzzing sound.
Then again without warning or sound came another beam of light, and a nearby group of soldiers burst into fiery particles and blood. Farhisk saw the skin of one’s arm become torn free of a body in the blast. What sort of weaponry are we dealing with here? Multiple small bla
sts of light came and two more were dead. But it was silent. Now, the soldiers began to grow less patient, the fear inside them growing.
Then the silence was broken by a sound above the trees. When Farhisk looked up he saw a machine, flying in the air, almost the size of their own fireflies. The machine was shaped like a bat, and flew almost silently but for the blasts that came down from the parts on the stomach of the machine. More lights came down, beginning to burn trees and warriors both. Farhisk leaped off his rock, landing near a blast, but coming away from it with less than a scratch. He looked back up at the machine, but before long it had vanished in the clouds.
A wall of metal men came crashing violently through the trees. The warriors drew their bows instantly, attempting to forget the shattering strangeness of the flying machine. “Fire!” Farhisk roared, and following close behind the sound of his voice came a rain of arrows. The arrows came down with great force, cracking metal skulls and piercing eye-lights. But not only metal men were damaged, for a number of rebel archers were also falling in their own blood.
The metal men had a strange new technology that the blade-wielders and archers hadn’t seen before. The metal men were creating great amounts of lights and sound with their machines that penetrated a being with great force. Farhisk had inspected an object on the ground that seemed to be what the machines were projecting. It was round, made of a type of metal, and small. Suddenly, one of them whizzed by Farhisk’s face, causing him to lash backwards. He looked up and saw the metal men tearing through the forest.
The air was filled with a mass of dust, ash, and snow. Farhisk ran over to where Alwin hid, behind a large rock, protected by seven archers. He slid behind the rock quickly, avoiding the fiery blasts. “Alwin!” He cried.
“Farhisk,” Alwin began, “What was that machine?”
“I’m not sure,” said Farhisk, flinching at the sight of a falling archer. The man had been shot with fire in the eyes.
-----
The firefly flew lower and lower as the team of Operation Moonlight grew closer to their destination. Engand looked to the others, “Ready?” He said. The lynxes nodded, all with grim and determined expressions. Milo was hesitant.
“Touching in eight,” said Thamos, looking back at them. He then pressed his foot on a silver lever, swinging the aircraft a great deal lower. They flew through the shadowy mountains of the North Rim. “The coldest place in Pæraleth!” Thamos’s voice again, this time coming through the gold speakers, “Reichtmagen has been sighted,” But Thamos stopped his speaking for a moment. Engand was waiting for him to continue, but when he didn’t, Engand stood up and began to walk towards the pilot room. “O.M.D, we have a problem, there’s something near the entrance,” said Thamos.
Engand opened the door the pilot room and said, “Something?” Looking through the glass, Engand spotted them; standing on the icy cliff, near the entrance to Reichtmagen, were nearly twenty men dressed in black, all wearing large, fancy hats.
Thamos spoke, “Engand, are those –”
“Parliament members, I think so,” said Engand, bolting back into the seating room. “Weapon’s ready! We’re going to make a drop!” He shouted, heading for the back of the room where the drop equipment was.
“A drop?” Asked Simo, “Was a drop part of the original plan?”
“What’s a drop?” asked Milo.
“No,” said Engand, “But there is no way we’ll make a safe landing with those men standing there. They have weapons.” He looked to Milo, “a drop is where we make it to the ground by ourselves, using these drop-chests.” He pointed to the walls of the firefly, where a dozen of these drop-chest contraptions where mounted. It looked like an armored harness, with several layers of folded fabric material.
“But the firefly can hold, can’t it?” asked Milo.
“It cannot,” Engand replied, grabbing a drop-chest off of the wall railings, “Remember, this is the first aircraft that we’ve built and it hasn’t been able to hold much more than wind.”
“How many are down there?” asked Simo.
The other lynxes began to go towards Engand, who was strapping the drop-chests onto them. He replied, “Twenty, maybe,” Simo was the last of them to have his drop-chest strapped on. The metal attachments were sort of uncomfortable, but were necessary for survival. Engand ran back to the pilot room.
“They’ve spotted us, Engand,” said Thamos, “I’m circling around for the drop.” The weight of the firefly shifted.
“I think they saw us coming before we saw them,” Engand said, looking out.
Thamos called over the speaker, “hold on!”
“You, Thamos,” Engand said, “Will you be dropping with us?”
“Someone must stay to pilot the firefly,” he said, “But I will try to make a second drop if I have the opportunity. If not, I will continue to circle the entrance until you’ve taken care of the enemy.”
“Okay,” said Engand, now turning to the others in the seating room, “Milo, grab a chest!”
Thamos’s voice came over the gold speakers, “Okay, O.M.D, prepare for the drop, in forty seconds!” Milo was finishing the fastening of the drop-chest, and he looked at Engand.
“Have you guys done this before?” he asked.
“What, dropping?” Engand responded, “just once, in training.”
“Are you serious?”
“Listen Milo,” Engand said, grabbing Milo’s shoulder, “when we hit the air, just focus on following the wind. There’s a current here that will take you to the mountain’s peak, right where we’re headed. And don’t forget you have that,” he pointed at the hilt of Milo’s sword with his last remark.
The team stood ready near the firefly’s drop door. Thamos pressed his foot on another silver lever and heard the sound of the drop door opening. Instantly, blasts of wind and snow came through the doorway, making ordinary breathing impossible. Thamos spoke through the golden speakers again, “Ready,” he said, pausing again, “Drop!”
Engand leapt out of the aircraft, aiming down, and felt the wind tear at his body, freezing his skin. It was an agonizing cold at first, but quickly became tolerant. He soared through the blizzard filled sky, headed straight for the cliff were the enemy stood, watching with fear. He saw one of the men draw a blade, and many others quickly as well. Engand reached his arm to his back and drew his bow, laying a deadly arrow in its place. The wind, however, seemed to have a different idea. Engand released the arrow, but rather than striking the enemy, it ripped into pieces that were violently tossed back at him.
Suddenly, behind him came Yusof, flying down towards the cliff at with great speed. Engand tried to call out to him, but the wind was too loud. Yusof was coming close to the Parliament members, who all had drawn blades and stood on the cliff. The few of them closest to the edge all raised their blades in the air. Engand watched Yusof draw back his claws and then strike at the men with crushing force as he came down, desolating any plans of a coordinated landing. Two of the men fell into the small crowd, and Yusof landed somewhere within. Engand was coming close as well, and when he turned to his side he spotted Patton and Simo in the air. When he looked back at the cliff, landing in the snow was Mussolin. He and Yusof had done an adequate job defending themselves; Engand saw the two lynxes lashing out at the Parliament, who fought back with hardly any loss in stamina.
Milo landed with a crack, tumbling in several angles in the snow. He screamed and held his ankle, which was twisted. His sword had landed several feet from him. Engand prepared his bow as he came close, and then abruptly the snow was splashing about under his feet. He was on the cliff. Within just seconds, he had landed two arrows into the wretched faces of Parliament members. Without looking, Engand heard the sounds of the last of the lynxes landing safely on the cliff. In the sky, Thamos still piloted the firefly, circling around the mountainside. A man in a hat rushed towards Milo, and he panicked. Unable to stand, he reached for his sword. When he grasped it, he swung it upwards in the same motion, a
nd it made contact with the blade of the man in the hat. A sharp ring hit Milo’s ears. There was a force coming from Milo’s sword that he felt in his arms, and he yelled out in anger at the man, who was now raising his blade again, but was stopped when his face was split with an arrow. Milo turned, and saw Engand give him a glance.
Out of the blizzard came a sudden yelp. Patton turned around to face the body of Mussolin sliding across snow, blood gushing from his stomach. Patton saw the man with Mussolin’s blood dripping on his blade, and leaped at him. He grabbed the neck of the man, digging ten, razor sharp claws into human flesh and splitting bone. In a single motion, the man was lifeless, and Patton looked over to Simo, who also had just finished ripping someone apart. A grotesque amount of blood dripped from the rocks and snow that they stood in now.
There was a man who stood near the entrance to the cave, who had a large machine in his hands. “What is that?” Engand called out, raising his bow. Abruptly, his bow was struck down by another man to his side. Then the man with the machine aimed it upwards in the sky. A blast of light came from the machine, and an incredibly loud sound, and something like a miniscule star was emitted from the tip, and the star came unbelievably close to the firefly, piloted by Thamos.
“No!” Engand cried, smashing the face of the man who stood next to him. He broke into a mad sprint towards the man with the weapon, screaming. The man then turned to him and a blast of light came forth. The blast split rock, created a burst of fire, and sent a wall of snow into the air. Engand was safe from the blast, lying in the snow, covered in rock and blood. He was behind the man with the weapon, out of sight.
Then there was screaming. It was Patton, Engand thought. When the snow and dirt had cleared from his eyes, he came to the gut-wrenching sight that proved he was right. Patton was laying there in the snow, barely able to make sounds but for screaming. His body was a mess, his head bloody, his limbs mashed and severed. His armor had been pierced and damaged and lynx bones were scattered across the cliff. Moments later, the screaming stopped.
