He would never see his beautiful niece again, he knew as the enemy approached with slow deliberation…but with this final battle, Reya would have a greater chance in finding a safe haven. And as Tellan leapt forward with a snarl of defiance, he vowed silently to her that as long as there was breath in his body, he would take as many of Belial’s pawns as he could.
He roared into battle once more, rushing forward with the speed of renewed fervour in his veins and as one, Belial’s men made their own charge. The perilous architecture of the ruin was Tellan’s only ally as he raged through the enemy with the full power of Asgard in his arms, pushing those he couldn’t manage over the side of the broken battlements with bullish shoulder butts and kicks. His bastard sword thrust and flashed inexorably through fountains of blood and with his battle roar, came the undiluted display of swordsmanship that had earned him his place as Baldur’s first. His blade sang through flesh and bone and the vision of Reya in his heart powered him onwards, even when the army of Belial’s damned began to swallow him. He surged forward into the sea of enemies that crowded against him with ferocious aggression, like a floodgate had released his true potential of defiant fury. He remained defiant even when the cold sting of steel whipped his skin, tearing his face and body with the cobra strikes of Belial’s soldiers that had managed to break through his wall of defence. He staggered briefly when a lucky kick found a route past his guard and even when a sword lashed across his thigh, he kept fighting.
But eventually Tellan gasped with how badly his exhaustion and wounds had taken him and as he limped back with a defensive guard, he fumbled desperately in a pocket. His hand closed around the distinctive shape of one last ceramic bottle with a thrill of hope in his heart, and his eyes fluttered closed in sheer gratitude. He wound his arm back and, in spite of the opportunistic slash that scored his side and sent him onto one knee, Tellan launched the last of his explosive bottles.
The sheer concussive force of the fireball that erupted within the guts of Belial’s forces violently catapulted Tellan from the battlement, and as his back impacted sharply against the remains of a destroyed archway, he grunted loudly at the sensation of cracking ribs. He fell to the ground in a series of skin scraping ricochets that left him seeing stars and as he tumbled to a messy halt, his bastard sword clattered along the rampart he had landed upon.
Cacophonic ringing shrieked a deafening tone within Tellan’s ears, sending his already sparkling vision into a spiral of hazy grogginess and as he reached out impotently for his weapon that was both too far and so close, his breath creaked from him. But his bleariness snapped into pin sharp focus when he heard an impact not far from him and with the distinctive sound of strain upon a bowstring, Tellan rolled blindly.
An arrow shattered into where he had lain and as Tellan scrabbled backwards, he looked up at the stalking menace that was his hollowed brother, at last come to face him in battle. Tellan clutched his ribs with a grimace when he realised he had rolled too far away from his bastard sword and as Timran approached with another swift draw, Tellan knew all too well that he was pinned. But in a mad investigation of his person for anything that could aid in his fight against Timran, Tellan seized Jenko’s last smoke pellet and readied himself for what he knew was a desperate move.
Tellan flung the pellet directly at Timran and as the pellet smashed harmlessly against his chest with a cloud of smoke, Tellan leapt sprinting onto his feet. Timran moved his bow through the smoke in search of his target, but upon the ferocious leap of Tellan that caught him squarely in the chest, Timran’s arrow shattered uselessly against the narrow rampart’s wall. Tellan bore his brother to the ground, but with the dropping of Timran’s bow came the swift unsheathing of his short sword. Tellan grunted when the edge of Timran’s blade bit his side in a slicing wound that would have been a fatal thrust, had he been only a few inches to the side. The two struggled for strength over the short sword, but when it became clear to Tellan that his exhaustion, combined with his injuries would see Timran victorious in such an endeavour, he flashed his eyes hopefully at his coveted bastard sword.
Timran landed a punch that brought blood from Tellan’s mouth and as he smashed a retaliatory elbow into Timran’s face that broke his cheekbone, Tellan scrabbled onto his feet. He swept up his bastard sword in a rolling dive that rose in an instinctual guard and upon the ringing of Timran’s downward strike, came a knee that slammed powerfully into Tellan’s chin.
Tellan sprawled precariously and as he hastily flung up his weapon in a weak guard that barely deflected Timran’s opportunistic follow up, he lashed out desperately with his foot. Timran collapsed onto a knee and as Tellan rolled backward onto his feet once more, he looked behind himself when he realised he was running out of space to fight. Tellan deflected Timran’s strike once more when he hopped backwards onto what was left of the rampart, but when Timran rushed him suddenly, the dilapidated stone beneath their feet shifted alarmingly.
Tellan yelled as the pair were tumbled haphazardly to the level below amid a smattering of loose stone, and it was only when he stood shakily with a gulp for breath that he realised where they were. He looked sadly upon his hollowed brother as Timran rushed him on the attack yet again, and Tellan wondered if he even realised they now stood by the cliff he had fallen from fifteen years ago. But his answer came in the powerful slash Timran aimed for his chest and, with the parry that should have brought Tellan the advantage upon his brother’s back, Timran recovered spinning with astonishing speed.
Tellan grunted when Timran’s blade sliced his chest and upon the spinning kick that exploded kaleidoscopic lights across his eyes, Tellan stumbled terribly. He shouted in agony when the punch of steel erupted fire across his clavicle and as Tellan’s knees buckled weakly, his bastard sword dropped heavily from his trembling fingers. Timran speared Tellan with his soulless, silver eyes as he pushed the short sword deeper into his chest and in spite of the agony that coursed through his body, Tellan found himself incredulous that he could still breathe. He fell heavily upon his knees from the agony that scorched his chest like fire, but when Timran’s body flowed with his action, Tellan knew instinctually that he had been granted a peculiar advantage.
He gulped in air as he grasped Timran’s throat and headbutted him with all he could muster, enough that the hollowed soldier staggered from him with a face full of blood. Tellan then clamped his hands upon the hilt of Timran’s own short sword and as he pulled it from his shoulder with a rictus of effort, he grunted loudly in agony.
Timran rushed him yet again and as Tellan waited wearily for the heavy bull charge that inexorably steamed for him, he whispered to ears that he knew couldn’t hear him, “Forgive me, brother.”
Tellan lifted the short sword into an angle at the last moment and with the shuddering impact that resounded down his arms, he looked sadly into his brother’s silver eyes. Timran stood so still upon the rising thrust of the short sword that pierced his heart and Tellan was dismayed at how even now, with the lifeblood of Timran slickened on his hands, those mirror eyes remained emotionless.
Tellan caught Timran as he lifelessly sagged deeper onto the blade and, even though his brother’s extra weight upon his considerable wounds brought him such pain, he lowered Baldur’s fourth in reverential silence. He laid his brother down gently and as Tellan passed his bloody fingers over those truly sightless eyes, he hoped that somehow Timran knew he had been finally released from his hideous torture. Perhaps now, you can know some rest, brother…He thought sadly.
Tellan sat back on his knees and huffed groggily with the heavy exhaustion that had claimed him after such a heroic fight, soaked to the skin with blood and sweat. He blinked through the hazy spider web of encroaching unconsciousness that spoke of blood loss and cracked bones and as he kneeled there, he pressed a hand against his gushing collarbone. He had done all he could, he knew as he looked impassively at the blood that glistened wetly on his ripped gauntlet and as he swept bleary eyes across his other drastic wounds,
he nodded in grim satisfaction. At the very least, his sacrifice had finally neutralised Timran’s threat…and his neglected, immortal duty to his hollowed brother had at last been fulfilled.
The footfalls of what remained of Belial’s army echoed in Tellan’s ears and as he glared up from under sweat soaked brows, he watched the slow approach that was a sinister echo of his own journey with Baldur, fifteen years ago. Tellan’s hands trembled when he reached out for his bastard sword and, even though he had to use it as a cane to bring himself shakily onto his feet, still he huffed weary defiance. He brought his weapon into an exhausted guard that he knew wavered far too much and, with the memory of Reya high in his heart, he awaited the arrival of his death with laboured breath.
But when unexpected, blinding agony exploded unforgivingly across his back and shoulders, stealing what little strength remained in his legs, Tellan fell on all fours with a gasp of pained shock. He blearily stared at the mossy stone that swirled kaleidoscopically before his eyes, his mind screaming that he needed to get up, that he needed to fight. But it felt as though his body belonged to someone else when his arms became seized by strong, unseen hands and as he was unceremoniously hauled back onto his knees, Tellan’s vision swam terribly.
“Ah, Tellan!” A deep voice oozed through the muddy cloud of his displaced mind and as Tellan glanced up through bloody sweat, he snarled at the dark visage of Belial. He had lain in wait for him after all, biding his time until Tellan had become exhausted and wounded…Tellan cursed himself for his body’s failure.
The demon prince looked upon Timran’s lifeless body and as he crouched before Tellan with a disgusting sneer of derision upon his face, he remarked, “I see my friend caught up with you at last.”
“Bastard!” Tellan growled drunkenly as he struggled ineffectually against the inescapable hold in which Belial’s followers gripped his arms, for the agony and exhaustion within his body had thoroughly sapped him of all strength. But still he glared up at his tormentor and snarled through ground teeth, “You’ll die for your crimes, Belial.”
“You’re not doing too well are you?” Belial asked in dry flippancy as he dispassionately watched Tellan’s fruitless struggles, like a fish on the end of a pike, “Baldur’s dead, Timran…well…you’re the one that killed him, you tell me. And Jenko…”
Tellan roared in agony when Belial cruelly thrust a thumb into the deep sword wound of his clavicle and as he came closer, he snarled inches from his face, “Jenko is all that’s left between me and the girl now. And without you there, we both know how that’s going to end, don’t we?”
Tellan grunted when Belial removed his thumb with callous speed and as he gripped a handful of his hair, he hauled Tellan’s face upwards, forcing him to stare into Belial’s sharp toothed leer.
“So why don’t you tell me where she is.” Belial sneered at Tellan in disgust as he twisted his scalp maliciously, “At least that way you can still save one of your kin.”
“Never!” Tellan hissed as he fearlessly returned Belial’s gaze.
Belial sighed deeply and as he straightened slightly, he replied, “I’m not sure whether you’re tenacious, or just plain stupid, Tellan…either way you’ve just killed another one of your brothers. Every member of the Line of Baldur dead. So much for being the ‘elite’ of Asgard–”
“Fuck you, Belial.” Tellan defiantly rasped.
Belial grinned derisively, surprised in spite of himself that the pious angel had oathed so venomously. “Such language from you, Tellan. I’m genuinely shocked.” He murmured mockingly and as he stood upright, he looked upon what remained of his followers. He couldn’t help but be impressed at how drastically Tellan had thinned his numbers, especially with Timran’s involvement…but his losses were no matter now. Not when he was so close in getting what he wanted.
He hauled Timran’s short sword from his champion’s chest with gritty resistance and as he looked thoughtfully at how darkly the former angel’s blood coated the blade, he glanced at Tellan from the corner of his eye. Belial then walked before him and picked his fingernails with the short sword’s keen edge as he asked almost conversationally, “Where is the girl?”
“You won’t have her.” Tellan replied with a dogged growl.
Belial glanced at him briefly before he surged forward and with a vicious seizing of Tellan’s head, Tellan screamed in agony when burning steel sliced completely through his ear. Belial dropped Tellan’s severed ear dismissively as the angel sagged heavily and when the demon prince grabbed his prey’s hair again, Tellan was unceremoniously hauled back onto his knees.
“Where is she?” Belial repeated, his voice a monotonous rasp.
Tellan grunted against the heat of blood that streamed down his cheek and pooled wetly in the creases of his overcoat. “Kill me if you must, demon.” He gasped defiantly, “I still won’t tell you!”
“Kill you?” Belial’s smooth voice retorted in mild humour and as Tellan struggled against the punishing hold upon him, Belial brought his face closer once more. His smile was wide and cruel as he murmured, “Why would I kill you, Tellan?”
Tellan’s eyes widened in horror at the dark promise within those words and as the demon’s grin spread wider, he maliciously twisted his already tight hold upon Tellan’s hair. “I’ll rip your Light apart, just like I did with Timran.” Belial hissed with quiet malice that branded Tellan’s mind like melted ore, “And when there’s nothing left of you but an empty shell, I’ll…make…you…mine.”
“No!” Tellan shouted even when Belial immediately hauled him upwards onto his feet, his metallic eyes flashing white hot within his charcoal grimace. He wrapped his cold hands restrictively around Tellan’s throat and as he begun to squeeze, Tellan choked and thrashed impotently.
“Where is she, Tellan?” Belial barked.
“I–I won’t!” Tellan choked as he gripped Belial’s hands helplessly against the relentless hold upon him. And when the sheer magnetic force of Belial’s Dark compelled him to stare horrified into the demon prince’s blazing eyes…he felt it.
Within the centre of his soul, at the very heart of his being, there was a tremendous shredding of torturous agony, such pain upon his Light that Tellan’s screams echoed deafeningly throughout the ruin. He was assailed with the same agony of Timran’s own demise as Belial tore the first of his Light from his very soul, a branding slash of wicked torture that ravaged his body and mind alike.
Tellan convulsed devastatingly through waves of crashing agony that destroyed his sanity, and he shuddered in blind agony when the ripping torment halted for the briefest of moments.
“Tell me where she is!!” Belial roared centimetres from his bloodied face.
“No!” Tellan whispered hoarsely and with his refusal came another whipping force of incredible strength within him, flaying his Light with tongues of acid. He screamed wildly until his knees finally buckled from under his weight and he gripped weakly onto Belial’s wrists, ever staring into the molten, silver moons of his enemy’s dark face.
Tellan choked breathlessly through another colossal weight of tearing force and as his screams shredded the air as much as his Light was shredded from him, he wept inside himself for his beloved niece.
A soft impact upon Reya’s head brought her frowning blearily from sleep and as she blinked in confusion at the source of what had hit her, she realised her head had bounced a little against the edge of the wagon bed. She turned her head towards the sky with a sleepy sigh and as her eyelids fluttered closed once more, her instinct seized upon the tree canopies that moved above her. Not through breeze, but motion. Were they travelling? Her confusion became compounded by a soft rocking that brought the creaking protestations of the wagon wheels and with it came voices hushed in whispered conversation.
“Careful, Vella. We don’t want to wake her.”
“Sorry.” Came a soft reply as Reya sat up with a weary yawn and rubbed her eyes at the open plains that stretched broadly before her.
; She blinked what remained of her sleepiness away and called, “Where are we?”
Jenko spun in shock of her utterance, but within the blink of an eye, he carefully set his face into a mask of neutrality and said, “On the road again. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes I suppose so.” Reya answered and when she turned around, the happy smile on her face froze in a flash of cold confusion. She frowned as her gaze passed between Jenko and Vella and her voice became a quiet murmur when she asked reticently, “Where is Tellan?”
Jenko turned abruptly then, for he was unable to look into her eyes without a deep stab of pained guilt in his heart. What the hell am I supposed to do? He thought woefully. He swallowed heavily and as he fought to control the despair that flooded into him suddenly, he simply said thickly, “He’s making sure you’re safe.”
“Oh.” Reya mumbled and as she watched how rigidly he sat beside Vella, she couldn’t help but notice that he wouldn’t look at her. Her breath hitched in her throat then with ominous gravity and through a knowing ball that leapt into her throat chokingly, she whispered apprehensively, “But we will meet up with him, won’t we?”
When nothing but silence reached her ears, Reya’s mouth fell open with the horrible, swallowing sensation that her heart had been torn from her chest. He had left…
Vella nudged Jenko in the side with a swallow of her own, for she could feel the devastation from Reya as though she had shouted it aloud to the world. Jenko looked into Vella’s glistening eyes with helpless woe; he didn’t know what he could possibly say to Reya. But he also couldn’t live with the idea that she thought Tellan had abandoned her, and at the same moment he turned in the driving bench, Reya’s violet eyes speared him in wounded desperation.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Reya asked mournfully, looking at him so accusingly that he felt her anguish like a spear in his very soul.
Jenko stared at her in wounded silence; it felt in that moment that his entire being had been shattered into a thousand fragile shards…she blamed him. “Yes.” He whispered roughly.
The Fallen Page 36
