by Ivory Autumn
In return, Andrew’s men exploded in a thunderous roar, so loud that it caused the ice to pop and crack.
“For truth!” Andrew pointed his sword and pushed his horse across the frozen sea, towards the hosts of demons charging at them, while Flicker led the charge from behind, and his army of seven thousand split in half.
Freddie, Talic, Croffin and Ivory followed behind Andrew, clipping over the ice fast and furiously. As Andrew’s men pushed across the ice, the frozen water groaned and cracked.
Andrew’s horse pranced ahead like a specter, sending up bits of broken ice. Galloping across such a battlefield, Andrew’s mind whirled with many thoughts, voices from his past, all mixing into one voice. Truth. He felt like an unseasoned ship captain steering its helm into a black wave. Something in Andrew wanted his men to turn around, to run and hide, to save themselves. But they didn’t. They would not.
On they went, before and behind, over the frozen sea, into the sea of men as shadowy as the lies they believed. The dark army stood in an unbending line, like the edge of a rigid knife, ready to cut them into pieces. Shadows, Sontars, men and beast, thousands upon thousands. They marched together like masses of bats swimming across the ice blackening the already darkened night. Vargas and the Shade stood in the midst of this immeasurable army. Each soldier wore helmets with carvings of The Shades Trees engraved into their metal. The jagged metal trees protruded from each helmet’s peak, like dozens of uneven horns. The bottom of the helmet dripped over the wearers face like roots, as a slotted protective covering.
A drone of the horns sounded. The voices of Andrew’s army blended into a chaotic clash of metal, noise, and cracking ice.
Every evil that had ever existed now stood before Andrew’s army, every nightmare, every dark deed, every shadow, of both man, Sontar, and beast. They stood mixed together like a lurking cloud, these living breathing deceptions, these gray, and ugly, barbed, double-dealing frauds. Hideous, lies and doubts with bodies, clothed in garments, shimmering and dripping with dark and venomous poisons, of all makes, shapes, breeds, forms and colors, had come together, from the four corners of the world to this last place, to utterly abolish and consume any hope of freedom, peace, equality, truth and voice Andrew had managed to stir up.
On the field of sand, and of ice, in front, and behind, both truth and a lie battled. Andrew rode bravely ahead. With inhuman strength he cut down the enemy, sword fueled by the strength of the men he represented.
A small group of men formed a circle around, Andrew, Ivory, Freddie, Talic, and Croffin. Yet, the circle was dwindling.
Cries of pain, and anger rang out. The ice shifted and heaved under such weight.
Andrew’s men fought with double the strength of The Fallen’s men, cutting their way through the endless onslaught of embodied lies and shadows that pulled at their backs trying to strangle them. The clatter of ice shattering with bone, lies shattering before truth, and truth shattering before a lie, caused beams of light and darkness mixed with blood to cover the ice.
Something whizzed through the air, and missed Andrew’s head. Andrew swung his horse around and faced a huge man wearing a cloak of black wolf skin. His shadowy skin hugged his face like tar. His eyes gleamed with a hungry light. He came at Andrew and his horse like a wild man, swinging a mallet on a chain in one hand and a sword in the other.
Swish, swish, swish.
Clack!
Andrew lifted his sword, and caught the mallet in a spray of orange sparks, causing the ball and chain to wrap around it with a loud metallic snap.
Andrew pulled back, yanking the weapon from the man’s, hands. His sword gave off a vivid warm flash of light, causing the man to stagger back into the sea of soldiers, momentarily blinded. He moved in towards the man, but stopped and glanced back, hearing Ivory scream.
He whirled his horse around and charged ahead. A Sontar had grabbed Ivory’s leg, trying to yank her off her horse.
“No!” Talic raged, from behind Ivory in the saddle, wildly snapping and frothing at the mouth, trying to reach out and bite the Sontar with his clacking teeth.
Andrew barreled down on the Sontar and sliced its arm off. The beast fell back, its dismembered hand still clinging to Ivory’s leg.
Ivory kicked the arm away, letting out a disgusted yelp.
“Get behind me, Ivory.” Andrew thundered, slashing his sword through the masses of soldiers. “Quickly.”
Ivory obediently fell in behind Andrew. Drawing her bow, she let an arrow hit the heart of a gray being that blocked Andrew’s path. Thud.
The man fell dead.
All around was madness, blood, and death.
Andrew had lost sight of Flicker and Freddie. They were somewhere absorbed in the mass of bodies, all struggling for something.
Andrew pushed through the masses, searching for his friends, while trying to keep Ivory and Talic safe.
“Freddie!” he called, swinging his blade in front of him like a madman, knocking three men down with one blow. He stood at the front of his army, his sword glowing like a magnificent shaft of light, causing those who stood against him to fall back, subdued before its might. The sword felt like fire in Andrew’s hands, like pulsing, flaming fire. Though it was heavy in his hands, the blazing strength from those 7,000 hearts that worked inside the blade, made his arm strong, made his body feel as though he were more alive than he had ever been in all his life.
He swung the blade at his foes, knocking five men down with a single blow, making it possible for his troops to move in around him though they were but a drop in the bucket compared to The Fallen’s countless demons.
Andrew cried out in anger, pushing through a mass of shadows, spotting Freddie’s face. He rode alone on his horse, out-numbered and surrounded on every side. Andrew moved his way over to him, bringing down a man who was pounding on Freddie’s sword, like he was trying to fell a tree.
“Thanks!” Freddie shouted above the noise. He offered Andrew a weak smile, then wiped sweat that was trickling down his forehead.
“Get behind me!” Andrew ordered. “And stay alive!”
Anger and heat broiled inside of Andrew, The Fallen’s army was closing in around them. Behind him, those who battled on the shore were faltering. All would soon be lost if he did not do something.
“For Freedom!” He shouted, rallying his men. Andrew moved on ahead of his friends, like a flash flood washing down a mountain, destroying all that stood in his path. All around him, The Fallen’s men swarmed, consuming his army like a plague, devouring all in its path. Still, his men stood, fighting back the tide that was trying to drown them. Andrew's thoughts were rhythmic, focused, driven. He was aware of what was happening, very keenly aware, yet his focus was as concentrated as the he power inside his sword. He swung his sword, feeling ageless, timeless, like a rock that had existed and would always exist. He did not fear death. His only aim was to protect those whom he loved, those who fought beside him---those who would not be made to bend before The Fallen’s will.
His will, and the wills that gave his sword strength became one. The thought of killing so many would have seemed disgusting to Andrew, except those he fought were so far removed from being human. To him they seemed like black grasshoppers, worms or maggots that multiplied like locusts---things that wanted to consume all that was left of good in the world. He moved his horse through the masses of muscle, blood, stone, steel, and ice, bringing down any who stood against him, creating a path for his men to follow.
His men fought bravely, like great warriors with far greater purpose than those who fought against them. Their arms, too, seemed strengthened as if by some inner power. For a moment it appeared that they were driving The Fallen’s army back in both directions, bending the dark water with their light.
“Forward men!” Andrew called, pressing his horse through a thick wall of Sontars, bringing them down with one swipe of his sword. “Forward! Let us drive these demons back!”
A swarm of shadowy bodies ran
to fill the empty space Andrew created. The beings came at him with anger, howling, and screaming. Andrew barreled through them, bringing them down in ones, twos, and threes, until all began to draw away from him and his terrible sword. “Forward!” Andrew cried raising his sword, calling to his horse to go faster. “For Freedom!”
Andrew’s horse pushed ahead, leaping over the bodies of the dead, galloping faster and faster over the hard, black ice, like a spirit released from prison. For one glorious second, it felt like the impossible could happen. His men fought with ten times the power of The Fallen’s men, causing them to draw back. Andrew, and horse became one, moving over the ice. None dared stop him. None could stand before him. It was as if the stars above them sang, heralding their victory.
Then, as quickly as the moment of glory came, it vanished, dissolving the cold vapor from his lips. Oragino reared back, letting out a terrified scream, skidding over the ice. The horse’s hooves slipped out from underneath him, causing both horse and boy to tumble to the ice. Oragino fell, trapping Andrew’s legs underneath him, and pinching his sword against his legs.
Andrew groaned, and pushed on Oragino’s body, trying to get his legs free. But the horse lay on the ice unmoving, as if hurt. “Oragino,” Andrew cried. “Can you get up?”
“I don’t know,” Oragino puffed, letting out a weary groan. “My leg doesn’t feel right.”
Andrew groaned, struggling against the crushing weight of the horse. “I know you must be hurt, but could you try to stand?”
Oragino heaved, and then groaned, laying back in the same position. “I can’t…I’m sorry.”
Andrew’s face clouded with pain. He pushed against the horse, but he was trapped where he was.
“Sssstuck?” a hollow voice hissed above him.
Andrew looked up, the color draining from his face.
Vargas stood over him, his snake-like eyes glowing out at him, like two venomous vials of poison. The man’s countenance was scaly, and papery like a snake that was just starting to shed his skin. He wore a delicate, shimmering robe that waved in the wind, causing his long frame to look unsteady.
Fear gripped Andrew. He dug his fingernails into the thick ice trying to free himself. Oragino groaned, and tried to roll over the wrong way, nearly crushing him.
“Stop!” Andrew cried out, struggling against the weight of the horse.
“Afraid?” Vargas asked. Large puffs of fog escaped his lips.
Andrew stared at the scaly man, uttering no reply.
He loomed over Andrew, obliterating his view of the moon and the sky, so that all Andrew could see was his dark outline.
“A mere ssssputtering ssspark,” Vargas hissed. “That is all you are. A spark that will soon go out.” He paused, and smiled, drawing a thin, oily blade over Andrew’s neck. “You and everyone with you will die today…You and your dissssmal army are the only thing that sssstandsss between The Fallen’sss sssshroud, and ultimate power. Once you are gone, the world will be asss it issss meant to be.”
“And what is it meant to be?”
“I think you know the ansssswer,” Vargas breathed, pressing his blade against Andrew’s neck, drawing blood. “Or you wouldn’t be here fighting againsssst it.”
Andrew shrunk back, but Vargas grabbed his hair, and held him in place. “No. You must stop ssstrugling. Give in to the fear. Yesss. Give into the darknessss. That issss all there issss left for you to believe in. It issss all that really exisssts. All that hasss true power. All have fallen before it. All have obeyed itsss will. Now it isss your turn!”
Just as he moved to slice Andrew’s throat, Talic appeared behind Vargas. His eyes were wild, savage, and angry.
“No!” He screamed, looping his long whiskers around Vargas’ neck, yanking him back with such fury that it caused Vargas to fall back onto the ice.
Talic howled and purred. “Grrrr….try to get up, you snake. Just see what will happen!” Talic hissed, and laughed, dragging Vargas across the ice with his whiskers.
“GAHHH!” Vargas wheezed, grasping at the coil of whiskers around his neck. “Let go of me, you savage!”
“Who are you calling savage, you molting snake. I trapped, you. I’ve got you!” Talic cried, swirling Vargas around on the ice in a full circle. “I have you! I have you, nasty, snake, snake, snake!”
Vargas flailed his arms, crying out as Talic twirled, and twirled him, sliding him in circles over the ice. “LET GO!” he commanded, scraping his long fingernails across the ice. But Talic would not let go. He continued to spin Vargas faster and faster.
Vargas snarled and thrashed, working to slice his dagger through the coil of whiskers holding his neck.
“Dizzy?” Talic growled, continuing to swirl Vargas across the ice. “I’ll make you so dizzy your head will spin right off your neck!”
Just as he said those words, Vargas broke free, the whiskers falling from his neck.
As Talic’s whiskers were cut, Talic fell back, sliding across the ice, thudding into a body of a dead Sontar. “No!” Talic snarled. “No!” My whiskers, you dare cut my whiskers! For this you must die, die, die!”
In a fit of anger, Talic leapt onto Vargas’ back, and bit down on the leathery skin on his neck. Vargas cried out, and thrashed around, trying to pull Talic off.
“GRRR!” Talic purred, biting and clawing at Vargas like a beast infected with rabies.
“Get off me!” Vargas roared tearing at Talic.
Talic yelped as Vargas slashed at him with his dagger. But still he held on.
Totally enraged, Vargas grabbed Talic by his jagged ears, and yanked him away, sending him flying over the ice. Talic yelped, and whimpered as Vargas loomed over him like a cobra, ready to strike.
“I’ll kill you!” Vargas roared.
“No!” Andrew cried, pushing against Oragino. “Get up. I’ve got to help Talic. Please!”
Oragino groaned and shifted, struggling against his own weight. He let out a loud puff, and sat up just enough for Andrew to pull himself from under Oragino. He and lay, panting as the blood rushed back into his legs. He quickly grabbed his sword and dug it into the ice, and forced himself to stand. His legs felt unsteady, but they were unbroken.
“Leave him alone, Vargas,” Andrew ordered, taking an unsteady step towards him.
“Yes,” Talic whined, “you heard him. Leave me alone!”
Vargas turned, and stared at Andrew and hissed. “One more sssstep, Andrew, and you’ll regret it.”
“Oh really?” Andrew asked, stepping forward.
“Andrew!” Ivory’s voice cried behind him. “Wait!”
Andrew glanced behind him at Ivory, then back to Vargas.
“Be warned,” Vargas breathed, a mist of warm vapor flowing from his lips. The vapor ushered out of his mouth in long wispy, webs. “The ice you walk on is very thin.”
As the mist settled on the ice, the ice around Andrew’s feet popped and cracked, fracturing around his feet, becoming as thin as paper. Andrew’s face filled with surprise, then fear.
Vargas locked his gaze on Andrew, his eyes filling with a victorious gleam.
Undaunted, Andrew took another step in Vargas’ direction. The ice cracked again as if something was hatching beneath it.
Crack!
Before Andrew could take another step, the ice suddenly gave way, sending him plunging into the icy water. Something, or someone splashed in behind him. The water was so dark he could not see who or what it was. He reached out trying to pull himself back up, but Vargas breathed an icy gust out over the open layer of water, sealing the ice over his head, closing him forever beneath the surface of the water.
In an instant, he had been cut off---locked inside a realm of ice, and frozen water.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Cracking
The click clack of horses sounded throughout the city streets of Summit as horse and man splashed through puddles of melted snow.
The sky had been a chilly blue, but it had slowly succumbed
to the frost, turning gray, like a corpse slowly decaying.
A miserable haze of smog moseyed its way through the city like a drunken man, apparently in no hurry, and with little regard to who it bumped into. The sun petered down through the haze in driblets as if it was growing weary of the constant cold and pollution. Little warmth was felt within the city walls, for there was little warmth to offer man, or his surroundings. The city was cold in every sense of the word.
Even in the hottest, driest summers, this town was still ridden with a deadly chill. Cold and unfriendly faces were everywhere. Even the smiles that were offered were cold, as if the very act of lifting ones lips into a curve would crack their faces. The words they spoke were cold and lifeless, as if the words they spoke had been tucked within a chest of ice. Such words fell out of their mouths, hitting the ground, shattering into a thousand cold shards that cut, and poked, and hurt those who were unlucky enough to be listening.
The city’s cold, calculating walls stood like tall stones marking the graves of those who lived inside. For those living there could hardly be called living, at all. They were mere chunks of ice, with frosted fingers, and colorless cheeks.
The town was unusually clean just as it was unusually dirty. Like a kitchen thrice cleaned from top to bottom, its dinginess lingered, seeping in from somewhere, as if the very act of continually scrubbing had worn away the shine of the tiles, and made the whole city dull and dingy.
Though dirt itself was outlawed, the very act of forbidding its existence made the city twice as sticky, and twice as dirty. Though kept in its rigid, sterile, cold, sanitized, accurate state, the city had many flaws. For anything kept too sterile will succumb to any virus.
And this city had many such viruses. As with all cold things that do not bend, this city had many cracks, and it was through these cracks that all manner of impurities came. The cracks had been covered up many times. But like a festering wound that is bound without cleansing, those cracks bulged with infection: with poor, with sick, with prisons, with injustice, with the cries of the dying left unheard. The lawmakers of the city who knew of these incurable cracks, publicly disgraced them, yet privately embraced them, making the cracks wider with more laws, with more regulations, with more taxations.
