by Callie Kanno
Something in her tone implied that the Qetza would have that chance. L’avan turned his aging eyes back to the battlefield with a flicker of envy. Would he have another opportunity in this life to serve the cause of light?
All along the base of the mountain, a ring of fire leapt into being and grew until it was an impenetrable wall. The armies of light shied away from the furnace, but the demons seemed even more desperate to reach it.
“The firsssst of the barriersss…” murmured Sesa to herself.
“Will that keep the demons at bay?” L’avan asked in a dubious tone.
“No,” admitted the Qetza, “but it will slow them down.”
A black cloud rose from the rear of the demon ranks and soared towards the mountain. It was the last of the Be’ezal, the winged demons with long teeth and razor-like claws.
“Be’ezal,” he shouted unnecessarily. “They will attack the Serraf on the mountain.”
Sesa turned her head away and continued to circle the valley, away from the front lines. “The Ssssserraf know what isss at risssk. They have meassssured the cossst and found it acceptable.”
L’avan’s heart weighed heavily in his chest. In his opinion, the Serraf were the wisest of the Great Immortal Ones. He was in constant awe of their power and majesty. They were not a warrior race, but they were certainly not helpless in an attack.
Even so, there were hundreds of Be’ezal shrieking towards them.
Would they be able to survive in the end?
Chapter Thirty-three: Vyuhava Continued
Sitara and her sisters were perspiring with effort.
They knew that it was possible to force open a Threshold, but they had only attempted it once before—and they had only pried it open enough to prove that it was possible. Now that they were striving to fully open a Threshold, they realized how greatly they had underestimated the task.
The ritual to open the gateway was approximately one third of the way finished. The center of the circle was beaming with light, and the incorporeal path that led to the other world could be seen. Once the ritual was complete the path would become a reality, and beings could pass from one realm to the other.
Sitara could sense that the demons had breached the first barrier, and were contending with the next two—a double barrier.
Time was running short.
***
L’avan gripped the leather harness that held him to the flying Qetza so tightly that his fists turned white. The armies of light had been driven back, and there was a thick black column of demons forcing their way through the wall of fire and into the caves that led up the mountain.
The armies of light battered at the edges of the horde, but they could not seem to cut off the stream that barreled towards the Serraf.
“They are losing,” he muttered hoarsely. “This battle will be lost.”
The lights and colors on the top of the mountain had diminished considerably. Judging by what remained, L’avan estimated that there could be no more than three or four Serraf left standing.
Not enough to complete such a complex ritual.
There was another unexpected flare of blinding light, as there had been at the beginning of this phase of the conflict.
All of the Qetza turned simultaneously and flew back to the island where they had been stationed at the start of this campaign.
“What is happening?” asked L’avan. “Why are we leaving? The battle is not over.”
“I am aware, young human,” Sesa replied. “The time hassss come for the Qetza to do their part.”
L’avan’s heart sped up. “You are going to join the fight?”
“In a way,” was the evasive response.
The old soldier’s mind began to formulate a plan. Humans had been banned from this specific conflict, but perhaps there was a way for him to take part without disobeying orders.
Normally, the journey from the lone mountain to the windy island would have taken days. The fleet Qetza reduced that time to a couple of hours.
There were only a couple of thousand Qetza still living, and all of them waited patiently on the island just off the coast of Zonne. Sesa and her companions landed, and the human passengers climbed off of their backs.
L’avan, on the other hand, held on to his harness firmly. “Will you be entering the thick of the fray?”
Sesa turned her head around and gave him a quizzical glance. “No, we will ssstay to the sssskiesss.”
He smiled in grim satisfaction. “Then I would like to come along.”
The Qetza’s serpentine face became quite stern. “No, young human. You may not join ussss. You are to ssstay here and watch from afar.”
“You said you would not be in danger,” L’avan pointed out. “What is the harm of having one small human on your back?”
“I ssssaid we would be ssstaying to the sskiesss,” corrected Sesa. “I did not sssay there would be no danger.”
He leaned forward and put a hand on her scaly neck. “Please, Sesa. I have given my life to this war. Let me stay with you.”
The Qetza took a deep breath, considering the situation carefully.
“Very well.”
L’avan did his best to hide a triumphant smile. “Thank you.”
Kirin, L’avan’s oldest surviving comrade-in-arms, was approaching and overheard the last exchange. “You are going with them?”
“Yes.”
“But we are ssstaying at the rear, assss far from the fighting as posssssible,” declared Sesa.
Kirin’s eyes took on a bright interest. “May I come as well?”
“No,” replied Sesa and L’avan in a single voice.
Kirin scowled darkly. “Why not? I am just as able to stay out of the way as you, old friend.”
There had been a time when L’avan had been Kirin’s military superior, and he could have ended the discussion with a simple order to stay behind. Now, they were years past that. L’avan didn’t have the authority, nor the inclination, to order Kirin around anymore.
“Well…”
Sesa was not happy about the situation at all. “Fine. But only if a Qetza agreesss to carry you.”
Kirin found a Qetza without too much trouble. L’avan suspected that his fellow soldier was less than truthful in making his request. Kirin probably told the Qetza that he had special permission to go on this undertaking.
Orders were given in the sibilant language native to the Qetza, and all those that remained of the race rose into the air and flew back towards the battlefield.
***
Sitara was faint from the massive drain of her vyala, and she knew that her sisters felt the same. The ritual was almost finished, and the Threshold was ready to open.
Deep within the mountain, the Serraf leader could sense the demons battering the fifth barrier. It would not last much longer.
The time had finally come to complete what the circle of Serraf had begun.
Adesina stood completely awestruck, staring at the massive tapestry of vyala that had been woven together. She knew that she could not re-create such a ritual if she had a hundred L’avan to help her.
Is that why this Dream was so important? To show her that there was no way that Basha could complete the ritual on her own?
The young queen had no time to wonder. The light in the center of the circle was blinding, and the pulse of power started to pound in her mind.
“Bren,” Sitara called out in a strained voice, “it is time.”
***
Bren crouched alone on the mountaintop, save a single remaining Serraf. The Be’ezal seemed less desperate to kill them now that there were only two, and they made lazy circles in the air above them. Occasionally they would dive and swipe at the huddled Serraf, but it was only to pass the time.
Bren’s companion was bleeding freely, and she would soon collapse from the loss of blood. All of the Serraf’s remaining strength was to keep Bren safe from harm.
Bren, it is time.
The two Serraf br
eathed sighs of relief.
They had made it.
Now it did not matter if the Be’ezal attacked. It did not matter if their strength failed. They had lived to fulfill their purpose.
Bren’s vyala was tied to the center of the circle inside the mountain through the conduit on which she knelt. She could feel what was happening, but it was nothing more than a simple connection between herself and the circle.
As basic as the connection was, it still took every ounce of concentration that Bren could muster. During the ritual—and the attacks around her from the demons—her concentration had wavered from time to time.
Now, she solidified her focus until it became as hard as iron. She fused the rod of vyala to the core of her being, and she opened the floodgates of her soul.
The effect was instantaneous.
Every ounce of vyala she possessed flowed from her body and down the conduit. It filled the center of the circle with a radiant glow that grew brighter until it filled the whole cave.
Bren’s body fell slowly to the ground, lifeless and somehow smaller than before.
The remaining Serraf sent off one more signal in a flash of light, and then she, too, was struck down.
***
There was no question when the deed was done.
Sitara and the eleven other Serraf felt the undeniable surge of power that filled the circle and completed the ritual.
Bren’s sacrifice had opened the Threshold.
A glowing pathway stood before them, leading upward to a portal of light. All of the Serraf felt drawn to the new realm, but they resisted the urge to walk through the gateway.
Toraun stared at the opening in wonder. “I have never seen anything so beautiful.”
Few beings, immortal or otherwise, were given the honor of seeing a Threshold.
“Now what do we do?” asked the council leader.
Sitara harnessed what strength she had left and began constructing an elaborate illusion with her vyala. Two other Serraf lent their vyala to help her where she was weak.
“The last signal was sent from the mountaintop. The Qetza will soon begin their role in compelling the demons through the Threshold. We need to protect ourselves until the demons have all been forced into the new realm.”
The illusion would serve as cover, should the first wave of demons appear before the Qetza began their part. The demons would think that they had entered the Threshold, and would rush to follow.
Sitara surveyed the work with satisfaction.
“It will not be long now. Let us hide.”
***
The Qetza had been holding their position for half an hour when the final flash of light burst forth from the peak of the lone mountain. L’avan leaned forward to stare at the source.
“No more light. Are they all gone?”
“Yessss,” said Sesa sadly. “They have paid for thisss battle with their livessss.”
The weathered soldier was stunned. He could barely find the words to speak. “Does that mean we have lost?”
Sesa didn’t answer. She was too busy listening to the orders that were coming down the line.
The Qetza began to change formations, and Sesa made her way to the rear. The Qetza carrying Kirin followed suit, and the two human witnesses watched from behind as the fleet of flying serpents created an undulating sphere with their collective bodies. A dozen Qetza, including Sesa and the one carrying Kirin, hovered in a semi-circle around the sphere.
Sibilant chanting began at the center of the sphere, and slowly spread outward. Electricity began to crackle in the air, as if lightning were preparing to form.
Sesa did not participate in the chanting, and so L’avan ventured to ask her a question.
“What is happening? Is the battle not lost?”
Her reptilian eyes were fixed on the sphere, but she answered his query. “No, it isss not losssst. In fact, it isss won.”
“How? The Serraf are dead!”
“Only the onessss who meant to give their livesss.”
L’avan experienced a flash of intuition. “It was a ruse. The circle on the top of the mountain was not the real circle.”
“Yessss.”
Kirin leaned towards them, listening closely.
“So, they succeeded in opening a Threshold?” pressed L’avan.
“Yessss.”
“But now what?” interjected Kirin. “What good will that do against the demons?”
The chanting in the sphere was growing louder and more powerful. A frenzied wind began to swirl around the ripple of the Qetza bodies.
“You are going to force them through,” realized L’avan, a wave of excitement rushing over his heart. “You are going to rid our world of demonkind forever.”
“That isss our hope.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped L’avan’s throat.
It was too perfect to believe. A world without demons to torment and corrupt humankind. Was it possible?
Yet, it had to be. It was happening as he watched.
The electricity in the air made L’avan’s skin tingle. The wind had risen to a gale, and he had to cling to the harness that was holding him to Sesa’s back.
He watched intently as the chanting of the Qetza reached a climax, and an enormous pillar of wind and lightning shot out the sphere, aiming for the demon hordes.
The black figures were tiny to L’avan’s eyes, but he could see that they were being picked up by the beam and forced towards the mountain.
Thousands of them.
Hundreds of thousands of them.
The armies of light were clearly buffeted by the powerful winds, but they were able to hold their ground against the vyala of the Qetza.
“What is preventing the wind from harming the other armies?” shouted Kirin over the gale.
“We are,” answered Sesa. “We twelve Qetza direct the currents of the conjuration.”
L’avan saw Kirin nod in satisfaction and then reach into the pouch on his belt. Kirin pulled out a short black rod that came to a jagged point, like a broken bone. He pointed it to the Qetza on the far end of the semi-circle, and a red bolt of unholy power burst forth from the end. The Qetza gave a shrieking hiss as the attack charred its skin.
Kirin did not stop with the single attack. He continued to send blood-red bolts down the line of Qetza.
“What are you doing?” bellowed L’avan. “Are you insane? You are killing them!”
“You are on the wrong side of this war,” roared Kirin with a mad expression on his face. “You cannot fight darkness!”
Sesa swooped out of the line of Kirin’s fire and whipped her tail to knock the traitor from his harness.
Kirin cried out in pain, but he held fast. The Qetza carrying him did several rapid barrel rolls until the harness gave way, and Kirin fell to his death with a raging scream.
The remaining Qetza struggled to get the wind and lightning back under control, but it was too late. The gale was in a frenzy, and the focused beam had turned into a wave of force. All armies—both light and dark—were being swept up the path that led to the Threshold.
Sesa realized what was happening, and she twisted her head to reach back and snap L’avan’s harness with her teeth.
“Sesa,” the soldier cried in alarm.
“Roll when you hit the ground,” ordered the Qetza.
She jolted him into the open air with a vigorous stroke of her wings, and her vyala-enhanced breath blew him towards safety.
L’avan was buffeted mercilessly, and he soon lost all sense of direction. He knew that he was not falling as fast as he should have been, but the terror he felt was still overwhelming.
The howling storm rang in his ears, and he could not see what was happening on the battlefield. He hit the ground hard, and did his best to roll, but he felt his arm snap from the impact.
For several moments L’avan laid on the ground, dizzy and bewildered. When he lurched to his feet and looked around, the air was filled with a heavy silence and the la
nd around him was completely empty.
***
Adesina watched in horror as the vyala of the Qetza went terribly wrong. The wind and lightning swept up everything—dead or alive—in its path and forced it through the Threshold. Creatures of both light and darkness struggled to hold on to something, to save themselves from the tempest, but it was all in vain.
Even the Serraf, the Keepers of the Thresholds, could not prevent themselves from being carried through the gateway.
When every creature had passed into the other realm, the Threshold snapped close and the cave was abruptly left in darkness.
Adesina remained in the Dream long enough to see the residue of the powerful magic that had taken place so long ago. The tapestry of vyala was still in place. It had simply been frozen between worlds.
Understanding filled her mind, and she came to the awful realization that her previous hope had been wrong.
Basha could open the Threshold again.
All she needed was the right key.
Chapter Thirty-four: A Life Saved
Adesina jerked awake with her heart pounding and her mind racing. Ravi was already at her side with his brow contracted in concern.
“Ma’eve?”
She was having a difficult time separating the Dream from the present. “They were betrayed,” she gasped.
“Yes,” acknowledged Ravi.
“They did not mean to cross over to the other realm.”
“I know, dear one.”
Adesina’s thoughts became clearer, and she sat up with a jerk. “The Threshold is not closed, Ravi. Basha can open it.”
He inclined his head. “If she completes the ritual, yes.”
The young queen frowned. “The ritual? But, the vyala is still there. The Serraf did not have the time to remove it properly.”
“The vyala is there,” explained the Rashad, “but it is dormant. The ritual must be completed to return power to the Threshold.”
