“Who was that?” one of the awestruck slaves asked.
“I really don’t know anymore,” Lizella answered breathlessly.
***
Chapter 2.
The fort was built into the cliffside of one of the many mining pits, and its guns rained death upon the Liberators. From mine to mine and valley to valley the fighting had been brutal. Countless slaves were being freed, but it was clear that unless the fort was neutralized the attack would lose its momentum. Elian’s hands knotted into fists as he watched one of the fort’s guns land a direct hit on a squad of Liberators who had been sheltering behind a storehouse. The building exploded in a fireball, the noise of the blast booming off the sides of the valley. Anger surged within him. It was the emotion he was most in tune with these days. He knew that to channel the negative emotions too much was bad for him, but the positive ones were harder and harder to reach. Vavius’s betrayal, Lizella’s choosing of Marcian, the state of the world at large, all converged to make him feel nothing but pain. That was why he wore a mask. The ironworks explosion in Asta had badly burnt the right side of his face. To his despair, he was no longer able to effectively channel the power of Joy which would have healed his wounds. He shook his head angrily, now was not the time to dwell on those problems, now was the time for action. He sprinted towards the fort, and as he drew closer, he could now take in its scale. The battlements were carved into the rock itself and stood at least a hundred feet high. Whoever had designed the vast complex of mines had done their job well. It was the perfect location for such a structure. Built into the side were two huge slits that slid open to allow the massive guns to fire out onto the surrounding terrain. Once fired the shutters would slam shut to protect the guns as they were reloaded from enemy fire. There appeared to be no way inside save for a door of solid steel built into the cliffside, which in turn was protected by murder holes. An idea came to him as the big guns fired again. The fort was perfectly designed to fend off a conventional attack; not one by an Empowered One. If his plan was to succeed, he would have to rely on another of the negative emotions, Fear. He focused on the sensation he had felt back in the ironworks in Asta. The moment when Vavius had revealed himself to be a traitor and that he was trapped with the monstrous First Fear. In his mind’s eye, he could make out every detail of the creature. Its unnaturally thin body, the smart black suit it wore and its face. Hollowed and thin with black pits where its eyes should have been. His breathing increased as he allowed the Fear to fill him. As soon as it did, he opened his eyes and broke into a sprint. Fear granted him the ability to move at a supernatural speed. To an observer, he appeared as a red streak moving almost as fast as the eye could see. To Elian the world around him blurred save for where his eyes were fixed. Within seconds he reached the edge of the ravine, and with a shout, he launched himself across the chasm. The momentum of the Fear run caused him to cross the distance easily. Just as it looked as though he would crash into the steel gun doors like an egg striking concrete, they slid open. Twisting his body at the last moment he flew between the barrels of one of the mighty guns. Switching quickly to Anger he felt his body strengthen. He struck the concrete floor hard causing it to crack under the impact. Surprised shouts came from the gun crews as they spotted the intruder. Elian flipped onto his feet, instantly launching into an attack. The first he dispatched with a jab to the throat, the second with a roundhouse kick that sent the gunner smashing into a wall. He fought in a blur of fists and kicks until the room’s occupants were all battered senseless. He pressed himself against the wide archway that led deeper into the fort. Aside from the distant booms of cannon and musket fire from elsewhere in the mines the corridor was quiet. He looked around and stepped into a side chamber. Barrels of gunpowder and the large explosive shells fired by the long guns were safely stored inside. He took a barrel of powder under each arm and placed them next to each of the guns. Using his knowledge of explosives taught to him during his short time with the Liberators, he set a trail of powder into the explosive-packed storeroom. Stepping out into the corridor he spotted a glass lantern affixed to a wall and removed it. Carefully, he placed the flickering candle next to the trail of powder. Quickly, he moved through the fort, silently dispatching any Imperium soldiers that got in his way. Finally, he reached a staircase leading upwards towards the command centre. It would be there that he hoped to find the men overseeing the defence of Hestra. He proceeded down the long windowless corridors, only the flicker from lanterns affixed to the walls offering any light – was there someone stood at the end of the corridor? Elian slowed and narrowed his eyes. A shadow blocked the metal door at the far end. The shadow stepped out of the darkness and into the light. A Hollowed. It watched Elian with a sinister smirk on its unnaturally thin face.
“We knew you’d come,” it said in a soft, scratchy voice.
Elian dropped into a fighting stance. He had bested The First Fear; he could best this one. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He spun to see another Hollowed approaching from behind. He was trapped! One he could probably handle, but two! Panic built in his chest. There was nowhere to go. The narrow corridor had no windows and was built of reinforced steel and concrete; even he couldn’t punch his way through that. He focused, doing his best to get the Fear under control. They hadn’t attacked him yet, which meant they wanted to talk.
“What do you want?” Elian asked trying to do his best to make his voice sound strong.
“The Supreme seeks you Empowered One. What she commands we obey.”
“I’m guessing from the fact that you haven’t attacked me yet means that she still wants me alive. If so, why? What does she want from me?”
The First Fear had said something similar in Asta. The Supreme wanted him alive, and that made Elian even more afraid. It meant she had a purpose in mind for him. Did she want to turn him into one of the very abominations that stood before him? That was the worst part about the Hollowed. They had all been Empowered Ones like him once. The Supreme hadn’t hunted them to near extinction as Vavius had claimed. Instead, she had turned them one by one into monsters and stripped them of everything they had once been.
“Come with us and find out,” the first Hollowed answered.
“And if I refuse?”
The Hollowed grinned, exposing a set of blackened teeth. The look told Elian everything he needed to know.
“Leave him alone,” said a woman’s voice breaking the tension. Elian turned in surprise. Standing in the corridor behind the second Hollowed was a figure in a purple cloak of a similar design to his own. Her features were hidden by the shadow of her hood. It was the figure he’d spotted earlier, the one that had taken out the sharpshooters.
The Hollowed closest to her snarled before launching into an attack. The mystery woman barely ducked the blow and to Elian’s surprise countered with a punch that sent the creature stumbling backwards. She didn’t hesitate and leapt at it to deliver a powerful kick straight to the head. The Hollowed’s head snapped backwards causing it to fall to its knees.
“Run!” the woman shouted. Elian didn’t hesitate and burst into a run, leaping over the now prone Hollowed. The woman ran in front of him her cloak flapping behind her. Together they Bounded through the fort back toward the gunnery platform. He could hear booted feet running towards their location. The candle he had placed earlier was now dangerously close to igniting the fuse.
“Who are you?” Elian asked his mysterious saviour.
“Someone who is here to watch your back. Come on; we have to leave before this whole place goes up,” the woman replied impatiently. She pulled down her hood to reveal long hair the colour of straw. She was no older than thirty at the most, but her piercing blue eyes suggested that she had seen much. She took him by the hand and pulled him towards the still open gun doors. She climbed up onto the outer wall and gestured for him to follow.
“This is our only way out,” she shouted over the howl of the wind whipping up the cliffside. E
lian joined her and immediately regretted looking down. The bottom of the valley was a long way down, and from this height, the figures battling below looked like ants. He gulped. He’d never even attempted such a drop before.
The mystery woman took his hand in hers again and squeezed.
“Don’t let go,” she said.
Without another word, she stepped forward into the abyss. Elian closed his eyes and went with her. Gravity instantly took effect sending them plummeting towards the valley floor. Elian channelled his Anger, doubting that even that power would be enough to prevent him from being turned into a bloody smear. The woman squeezed his hand again causing him to look at her. She smiled and pulled him closer until their faces were mere centimetres apart.
“You still have much to learn about the Power Elian,” she said into his ear. Panic filled Elian, and he closed his eyes waiting for the inevitable. He could smell her perfume. A few moments went by. Nothing happened. The sensation of plummeting to his doom halted. The woman laughed.
“Open your eyes Elian,” she said softly. He did so and gasped.
They were floating! He looked at her in awe as she effortlessly glided across the chasm. Once on the other side, they landed gently. Elian stepped backwards stunned.
“Who are you?” he asked again.
Just as the woman was about to answer, the fort exploded.
*
Ears still ringing, Elian sat up and blinked dust from his eyes. He looked at the spot where the fort had once stood and marvelled at his handiwork. The force of the explosion had caused the cliff to collapse completely sending tonnes of rock into the valley below, and now only a smoking crater existed where the formidable fortifications once stood. Where was the woman? He staggered to his feet and called out, but she was nowhere to be seen.
***
Chapter 3.
Marcian walked through the camp with a smile on his face. The sun was setting on the day of a spectacular victory. The mines of Hestra, one of the most important industrial centres in the Western Imperium was no more. After intense close quarter fighting that had raged from mine to mine and the destruction of the Hestra fortress, the Imperium garrison had fled in disarray. As he walked, he nodded to his men and clapped some of them on the back as they went by. They had performed better than he could have ever expected and now their ranks would be bolstered by thousands of freed slaves. The Liberators were finally becoming an army. His mood soured slightly as Erin approached. Her expression was not one of joy or victory but one of barely concealed annoyance.
“I don’t know why you’re smiling,” she said as she fell into step at his side.
“Can’t you just savour the victory Erin?” he replied doing his best not to get irritated.
“Victory? I guess you and I see victory in different ways. Granted, shutting down the mines will be a temporary hindrance to the Imperium and the liberation of slaves is always a good thing- “
“Why do I sense there’s a but coming?” Marcian interrupted. He stopped next to a barrel of water, scooped up some in his hands and washed his grime covered face.
“That’s better!” he exclaimed happily.
“You bet there’s a but;” Erin continued, “our supplies were dangerously overstretched before this operation, and despite my concerns, you insisted on going ahead with it anyway.”
“What are you trying to say, Erin. Come on spit it out.”
“We can’t take them with us,” she said. Marcian stopped in his tracks. He turned to face his second in command.
“We’ve freed at least twenty thousand people. We cannot feed and water them all, let alone arm and train them. Most of them are sickly, and some are far too ill to move. If we are to stay the mobile force, we have to be. we must leave them behind.” Erin said unable to meet his stare.
Marcian sighed in exasperation. He looked around the camp and his stomach knotted. Erin was right. The Liberators had only survived this long thanks to their ability to move quickly across country; that and the powers of Elian. He dreaded to think what would happen if General Rickon’s main army caught them in open ground. He wiped his face with a hand and nodded. Erin was correct as usual.
“Your right Erin,’ he sighed. ‘let the men enjoy their victory tonight. In the morning I’ll address them and let them know the situation. I dread to think what Lizella is going to say.”
*
Hundreds of campfires dotted the landscape around Hestra, and the sound of songs and celebration carried on the cool night air. Marcian was grateful that his tent had been ready and waiting for him when he returned. The reports he’d received made for grim reading. Erin wasn’t wrong. Their supplies were already dangerously low, and from his estimations, they would run out of food before they reached the safety of the vastness of the Sojourn forest. Casualty wise, his small army had lost close to two hundred men in the fighting. He pushed his way through the tent flap and wearily shrugged off his blue overcoat. With a groan, he sat on the pallet and rubbed his eyes.
“They’re not here,” Lizella cried as she stormed into the tent like a whirlwind. From the redness of her eyes, it was clear that she’d been crying.
“What do you mean not here?” Marcian replied. The whole reason they had marched to Hestra was to find and free the people of Fork, Lizella and Elian’s parents among them.
“I’ve looked everywhere. They’re not here!”
Marcian stood and pulled her into an embrace. He stroked her long blonde hair holding her close.
“Our intel wasn’t old. Unless…” he paused. The implications of what he was thinking could be dire. Without another word, he let go of Lizella and rushed outside calling for Erin.
“What is it?” Lizella asked.
“Pray that I’m wrong,” he replied.
A few moments of nervous waiting passed before Erin arrived at the tent.
“Tell me our intel was good,” Marcian demanded.
“It was good. Our spies reported that the people of Fork were in the mines just four days ago. We marched as fast as we could.”
Marcian couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been played. Angrily, he put back on his coat and stormed through the camp towards a group of wagons that were being used as temporary prison cells. Inside was a small group of Imperium prisoners, one of which was a mid-ranking officer captured in the early stages of the assault. Marcian leapt up onto the side of the wagon.
“Which one of you is the captain?”
A man with short black hair and broad shoulders nodded his head. He rose from the wagon floor and leant against the iron bars.
“Where are the citizens of Fork? We know they were here only a few days ago. Answer me truthfully, and I might consider releasing you and your men.”
The captain raised an eyebrow at the generous offer before his lips settled into a smirk.
“Why should I tell you? Do you fools realise that the Supreme is going to kill every one of you? You’ve all got a death wish.”
‘Want to do things the hard way eh?’ Marcian thought, his irritation rising.
Lizella and Erin watched Marcian grow more and more irritated by the stubborn captain. He tried for a few more minutes until it looked as though he would simply draw his pistol and shoot the man dead. Footsteps came from behind them. Elian stood in the shadow of the wagon, his black mask giving him a sinister appearance.
“Let me try.” He said stepping forward.
Marcian glared at the captain before swearing under his breath. He jumped down and walked over to Elian.
“See what you can get out of him. My charming wit and personality seem to have little effect on the pompous ass.”
Elian walked over to the cart and placed a hand on one of the iron bars. He stared at the captain and narrowed his eyes. Channelling Positivity had been proving harder and harder lately, but he pushed on, forcing the power from the emotion. Rea was Gifted in Positivity; to her, reaching into the mind of another was child’s play. To him, however, it was just an
other ability that he’d yet to master. Images formed in his mind’s eye, at first, they were blurred, confused. He focused harder, the images sharpened, and sounds filled his ears. He was in. Entering another person’s mind was a disorienting experience and one that often made him feel nauseous. Maintaining a positive feeling was a skill in itself. He could see the man’s memories playing like a scene from a theatre production. Currently, he could see himself through the man’s eyes. ‘Do I really look so menacing?’ He thought. He shook his head, now wasn’t the time to be distracted. He forced the memory away, seeking out a scene from earlier in the day. The memories rewound in a blur until he fixed on one that showed the captain and his comrades being briefed. He found himself inside the fort’s command centre. Uniformed officers were standing around an oval-shaped table, a map of the Western Imperium sprawled out on its surface.
“Our scouts report a sizeable force of rebels marching on the mines just as General Rickon predicted. The false information leaked to the enemy has paid off, and the fools are marching straight into the general’s trap. You know the drill gentlemen. The bulk of our forces are to retreat to Kaspen blocking off that avenue of escape,” explained the garrison commander, a brute of a man with a long scar covering the right side of his face.
The captain raised his hand.
“Forgive me sir but how much time do we have?”
The Commander crossed his arms and smiled wickedly.
“We have a day at most. Five years stationed to this hell hole; we’re finally going to see some action.”
*
Elian’s eyes snapped open as he withdrew from the now cowering captain’s mind. It was a trap! And they had walked straight into it. The reports that the people of Fork and his parents were in Hestra had been false. His hands knotted into fists; it was because of him! The Supreme wanted him, and what better way to trap him then to use his captured parents against him. Anger surged through him. Trembling, it took all of his willpower to not tear the iron bars off of the cage and rip the captain in half.
The Temple of Arrival Page 2
