by Ivan Kal
Morgan sprang into action—he slipped his hand around Clara’s waist, eliciting a small cry of surprise, and he pulled her tightly to him as he turned and jumped from the tower. A moment later the ogre rushed and smashed its shoulder into their tower, and it lost its footing and staggered for a few steps, giving Morgan and Clara enough time to move. Ves and Vall were pulling back, and Morgan started heading their way. Putting his bow over his shoulder, he pulled Clara with him as he drew his sword.
Clara smashed her staff into a goblin that came too close, Morgan skewered another, and then Vall was there to cover their retreat. Over on the other side, Morgan saw Titus fighting a group of goblins approaching him, small bolts of fire exploding from his staff, but Morgan could see that they would overwhelm him soon. Then Lucius was there, swiping his air blades at the goblins and pulling Titus back.
“Retreat to the Hall!” Morgan yelled out. The non-ascended had already done so, and he could see them running up the stairs.
The ogre started walking in their direction, and Morgan pulled off his bow and fired a few arrows at it as they ran. They hit it in the chest, but they might as well have been mosquito bites. The ogre roared and swiped its club across the ground, smashing one of the Sky Guard along with several goblins.
They ran up the steps. Vall and Ves, along with the remaining Sky Guard, took positions at the base of the second set of stairs and made to hold off the goblins. Lucius and Titus were on the top, both bleeding from cuts and breathing heavily. Clara moved over to them to heal them immediately.
Orden, however, got stranded behind with several attackers around him. Morgan fired his arrows to help him, but there were too many—one hobgoblin got behind him, and pushed his sword through the man’s chest. Morgan saw the moment when the light left his eyes…and Orden turned to glowing dust.
Morgan watched for a long moment, stunned. He had known that the ascended were like the monsters, but he hadn’t really realized what that meant.
The ogre stomped closer, and Morgan turned his attention to it. He fired Arrows of Decay at it, as well as a few energy arrows and exploding arrows. He was doing damage—he could see it on the ogre’s burned and bleeding hide—but it just wasn’t enough. It raised its club over its head and smashed it down at Vall, who jumped to the side at the last moment. Ves stepped forward and slashed at its leg, and it roared and swiped at her with its fist. Ves put her shield up and it stuck it, sending her flying in the air up toward them. She smashed through the doors of the hall, her ice armor shattering, and fell on the floor inside.
Morgan turned back to the ogre, pissed off. He took careful aim as the beast was distracted, trying to strike at Vall. He let the arrow fly and it stabbed right into the ogre’s eye.
It cried out in pain, stumbling back and swiping widely with its club, taking down several of its allies in the process. That was when Rann jumped off from the roof of the Hall and right on top of it. Rann bit into the ogre’s neck, forcing his claws deep into the ogre’s shoulders as his scorpion tail stabbed repeatedly into the ogre’s flesh. Raising its arms up with a roar and grabbing hold of the manticore, it squeezed, and Morgan saw the manticore release the ogre as it cried out in pain, its ribcage crushed. The blood gushed out of the ogre’s wounds as it threw Rann aside, and Morgan saw the manticore die and dissipate. The body faded out, unlike the death of an ascended, and Morgan knew that he could bring Rann back—the manticore’s soul was bound to the hearthstone.
The ogre stumbled around a bit, and then fell to its knees, the poison and the wounds Rann inflicted taking their toll. Morgan put another arrow in its head, and it fell down on its face.
“Now! Push them back!” Morgan yelled out as the attackers faltered at their ogre’s death.
Lucius jumped from the top of the stairs, and with a gush of wind flew down near the remainder of the Sky Guard and started cutting down the attackers. Titus was throwing fire from the top of the stairs with Clara holding her weakening aura on them. Morgan let his arrows fly, and Vall swiped his sword through the goblins.
There were only about two dozen of them left, but all of them were tired, and some even injured. Vall had an arrow sticking from his thigh, but he was still fighting. Morgan was just about to yell out for him to pull back, as he had almost gotten too far ahead, when Vall took a bad step, and lost his footing. A hobgoblin saw the advantage and attacked. Vall tried to block, but he was of balance. He stumbled back, missing the parry, which probably saved his life, but the hobgoblin’s sword cut right through Vall’s hand, taking it off at the middle of his forearm.
Vall screamed out, and Morgan rushed forward, firing arrows of binding at the goblins surrounding him and entangling them in the roots. Lucius was there a moment later, cutting down the rest, and grabbing hold of Vall and pulling him back.
Morgan switched to firing at the remaining attackers, Titus was sending waves of fire down on them—and a moment later the attackers broke and started running away. Morgan kept the fire up even after they got to the road and started back down. He rallied the Sky Guard and followed the goblins all the way to the base of the mountain.
Less than a dozen attackers survived and escaped into the forest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
A few days later Morgan and the rest were still clearing the damage from the fighting. The goblins had completely destroyed the camp at the base of Reach; but on the bright side, they had gotten a lot of loot from the attack, and Morgan had gained another level. Vall, Ves, Lucius, and Clara had all gained a level, too, and the survivors of the Sky Guard and Titus had gained several. Morgan had earned about four thousand experience points; the amount varied depending on what level each ascended was, but the higher-level group had all gotten around the same amount.
Ves’s tumble through the Grand Hall had given her a small concussion, which her ascension took care of, as it hadn’t been a permanent injury. Vall, on the other hand, had healed his other injuries, but hadn’t gotten his hand back. The ascension regeneration didn’t do anything to recover what was already lost. His stump ended just over his elbow, and Morgan could see that the man was having a hard time with it. He had tried to speak with Vall about it, but the man didn’t want to talk. Morgan understood, and gave him some room, but also responsibilities. He didn’t want the man to shut down and do something stupid, and Morgan had already discussed with Lucius about what their options were. According to the Roman, there existed potions which could regrow lost limbs, but there were also high-quality artificers who could build artificial limbs that could be moved the same way an arm could. He had made sure to let Vallsorim know that they would get him a potion, or at the very least a replacement hand as soon as they could manage it.
They had lost twenty non-ascended, and four Sky Guard, along with Orden. They held a funeral for the non-ascended, and a wake for the ascended, who had left no bodies behind. It had been a somber night, and Ves had kept close to Morgan, the two of them finding comfort in each other.
It could’ve just as easily been one of them who had died.
Lucius had started training the Sky Guard even more intensely, and they started building short walls around the base of Reach. They weren’t all that tall, but they were better than nothing.
Ves started spending more time with Clara, training with her. The orc healer was adamant in her desire to learn how to protect herself more. The two women had grown closer over the last few days, and more often than not Morgan found them together.
After they had cleared most of the damage and gathered all the loot, Morgan used one of his manticore hearts to revive Rann. The manticore appeared next to the hearthstone, aided by a white mist, and immediately started purring and bumping Morgan’s chest, and Morgan scratched behind his horns.
Morgan knew that they didn’t have a lot of time before the goblin king united the tribes and turned a real army down on to the south—he decided that he needed more allies. They discussed it over their meetings, and a decision was made: Morgan was going
to go and visit the other settlements. He had planned on taking only Ves and one other member of the Sky Guard, but Ves had roped in Clara instead. Morgan had wanted to leave her in case of another attack, but Lucius insisted that since they would be taking such a small group they would have a greater need of a healer on the road.
Morgan gave Lucius access to the hearthstone’s crafting menus—he had discovered that he could give access to every Guild Leader—and told him to see if he could gather enough materials for a wall at the top of the road. They were building the one at the base of Reach by hand, to conserve energy, but he still wanted to have a few more things up in case of another attack. In the end he gave the Roman free reign to do as he wished; Morgan trusted his judgment.
Now they were standing in front of the Great Hall, packed and ready for the trip. He was feeling a bit uncomfortable. Being on the road with two beautiful women wasn’t exactly something that he had experience with…especially when one of them was his fantasy wife. Morgan was looking at Lucius, trying to ask for help with his eyes, but the Roman had a smug smile on his face as he ignored him.
“We are ready,” Ves said finally.
“Right, I guess that we can get going then?” Morgan asked.
“Yes,” Clara said, and she and Ves started climbing down the stairs. Morgan looked at the sky, hoping for some god-not-god intervention, but there was nothing. He wondered how he had gotten to this place, about to go out and ask people to swear allegiance to him in order to fight an army of goblins, hobgoblins, and ogres.
“Right, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool… I can do this shit,” he said to himself, and started walking.
How in the hell did I get here?
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Eternal Path Book 1 – Eternal Soul
EXCERPT FROM MY FANTASY SERIES
ETERNAL PATH BOOK ONE – ETERNAL SOUL
CHAPTER TWO
VIN
Kai Zhao Vin woke in darkness on cold stone with shackles on his wrists and ankles. Thick chains kept him tied to a wall, allowing him only a few steps in any direction. He did not know for how long he’d slept, nor did he even know for how long he had been imprisoned. He had lost count of the days, with no sunlight to tell him the passage of time. Once again he cursed his captors for making his soul suffer through this abomination, for trying to break him and refusing to let his soul pass to the realm of the gods.
A rattle turned his attention to the doors of his cell; Vin heard voices and realized that he had been woken up by these visitors. He closed his eyes to shield them from being blinded by the orb of light that his jailers would certainly have, and waited. A few moments later he heard the door open and the sound footsteps growing closer. Suddenly, large hands grabbed him and removed the shackles from his wrists and ankles, and then the visitors picked him up and half carried, half dragged him outside.
The legs of this body were weak compared to the one he had been born with. The original owner of this body had been a weak spirit artist, his body not even reaching the first step of the path. So, even though he hated being carried, he swallowed his pride and conserved his strength.
He opened his eyes just a bit, letting them slowly adjust to the light. He hated that he was constrained by this frail body, hated that this body’s core was so weak that he could barely push ki through its channels, hated that he couldn’t seek justice for what had been done to him and to his people, and to Orb—his world.
He managed to turn his head enough to see the two that were carrying him. Beasts with dark red scales and black horns, over two meters tall and wide as oxen, with leathery wings folded on their backs. Brutes, they served as heavy infantry for the enemy, slow but powerful. Vin guessed that now, when there was no one else to fight, they had been delegated to other lesser tasks, such as retrieving prisoners.
They carried him out of the dungeon and into what had once been a city of his people, the last that was standing before Vin was captured. The soaring towers of Heavenly Orders no longer pierced the blue sky; now, only craters remained where they had once stood, and the once azure sky had turned crimson as blood. What previously had been the brown-and-gray shape of the Father Storm was now tinted in that same red, and the storms that danced across his surface now seemed angry as he rose above the horizon, filling half of the sky.
Buildings once filled with crafters and practitioners of the spirit arts were now tainted by the invaders. Vin did not know exactly for how long he had been a prisoner; he knew only that he had spent at least a year as a prisoner in his original body, enduring invasions of his mind. The enemy wanted him on their side, but Vin’s will was greater. He would never bow and accept their offer. He had tried to escape, of course—his honor as a spirit-artist demanded the attempt—as these were not artists from another clan, but honorless invaders. He had prepared for months, compressing and purifying his ki in order to gain a burst of power great enough to overcome the strange aura that the enemy used to keep him imprisoned.
He had almost succeeded; he escaped the prison and then ran right into one of the enemy commanders. Had he been at his peak before the imprisonment had weakened him, or if had he still possessed even one of his blessed arms, he could have won, he knew. Instead, he had found himself back in the cold, dark cell. The enemy had then used their cursed artifact and strange powers to extract Vin’s soul from its earthly vessel and put it into another, weaker one, ensuring that he would not have enough strength to escape again. And in fairness this body was not truly weak, Vin admitted: whoever had inhabited it before simply hadn’t even attempted to make the first step on the path. By the shape of the body’s muscles, Vin knew that the body’s previous owner had taken care of it, had trained it to the best of his meager ability.
A strong man for sure for his level of power, but nothing compared to power that Vin had wielded in his original body. The strength that the body possessed now was no match for even the lowest of the enemy’s soldiers. Despite that, Vin cultivated the body’s—or rather now his—ki, pushing and pulling it through the body’s channels. He was familiarizing himself with his new body, hoping that someday he would have enough power to escape.
The brutes led him through the streets toward the main square. Pain shot through his heart at the sights around him, for they gave truth to what his captors had been telling him. His people were gone.
The two brutes carried him through the throng of creatures and their leaders. Human-like creatures with horns and red skin that called themselves Arashan watched over their subjects. Eventually they reached the large square, and Vin immediately noticed the massive construction effort in the center of the clearing. Vin recognized it immediately: a World Gate. Made of gray stone, once finished it would tower above the buildings around it. Memories came to Vin of five thousand warriors, spirit artists all, the best of the best, following behind him as they marched on the gate the enemy had used to invade their world. It had been one last attempt to destroy it and cut them off from Orb, hoping that without support from their own world that they could be defeated.
They had lost. Most were killed; though a few were captured, Vin among them.
This new World Gate drew Vin’s eyes, and he could see that it wouldn’t be finished for a long time, years even, but it told him that the enemy was getting ready to invade another world. In order to do so, they would need a mirror World Gate on the world they intended to invade—that much Vin’s people had managed to learn. As he was dragged past the World Gate, Vin noticed something else. An archway similar in appearance to the larger gate, only smaller. Sized enough for maybe t
wo people to pass through at the same time, with two large crystals placed on two pedestals on each side of the archway, each glowing with tainted red aura.
The two brutes carried him in the archway’s direction, and then past it toward a large round table covered with maps and documents written in what was to him an unfamiliar language. The brutes dropped him to the ground in front of their Arashan commander, who was leaning over the table and looking at maps of unfamiliar lands. The commander turned and looked down at Vin with his yellow eyes. With this new body’s weak sight, Vin could no longer see the soul of the commander, but still he remembered the sight when he’d had the ability: there was a red aura that added power to the being before him. It was as if there were a tether reaching from somewhere far beyond this place that fed power to the being in front of Vin.
The commander studied him, and Vin did the same in return. He glanced at the black armor that covered every part of the commander, each interlocking plate etched with glowing red symbols that wisped with smoke.
“Have you changed your mind, Vin?” the commander asked.
“No, Narzarah,” Vin answered.
Narzarah sighed. He gestured with his hand and the two brutes picked Vin up from his knees, allowing him to stand. Narzarah then turned to the table, pointing. “These are the maps of another world, Kai Zhao Vin. We have finished with yours. Mostly. The few that remain in hiding will die soon enough. And we have already made contact with the people of this new world—a World Gate will be built and the Host will spill through, adding the power of their world to that of our God. You have suffered enough, Vin. You have seen our power. Why delay the inevitable?” Narzarah asked. “A soul is immortal. You know that we can keep you alive and bound to earthly vessels forever. Forcing you from one body to another until you forget what your original one looked like. You will never see the heavens. Accept our God’s offer, Vin. Join the Arashan, and you will have a respected place among the Host.”
