by Marc Mulero
“Why here? What’s the significance? Please.”
Thump. Thump.
Two burly KQ terrorists suddenly slammed down in front of them, the ground shaking at their feet.
Shit.
Everyone stopped short. Jade mist kicked up all around, framing what was a brief instant of paralyzing fear as the terrorists rose to full height. Daunting, just like back at Kor. The same unhinged intent to destroy locked into their Glite masks.
Enemy Crule swords ignited - set to kill.
“Behind me!” Ren stepped in front of Spera.
“Hand her over, now. She’s charged with treason.” The KQ guard’s voice echoed through his mask. “I won’t say it again.”
“Treason?” Proctor Ren stared valiantly at the terrorists bathed in matte grey. “You have no authority to charge anyone, let alone the greatest Imperion of our Factions!”
Vasa wasn’t interested in talking, however.
She was already gone: a quick flash of green Crule faded with one of the terrorists screaming and dropping to a knee – his Achilles tendon slashed in half – before she dashed again. This time the element of surprise was lost, for the other man backed up, nearly tripping, and forced his blade sideways to meet Vasa’s.
He grunted. Two more steps back, he was tangled in a clash of metal. Then he swung free of it, regaining his bearings and artfully crossing his blade, clanging up until the fourth strike, on which both conflicting blades ignited with Crule in classic duel fashion. This one was well trained, Vasa knew, and that’s when she spun, long battle-skirt whooshing like a princess spinning her gown. Only Vasa was no princess.
Up came a diagonal fiery slash that forced the guard back and out of position.
She dashed forward to close the gap and spun again, this time on a downward angle. Fire met, but just hardly, allowing the follow-up Crule-infused stab to penetrate deep through his Glite, straight into his belly.
The guard unfurled his mask in shock, throwing up hot blood while Vasa punishingly removed her blade and turned away to her crew. She was surprised to see Eres already in motion to her right - fending off three terrorists with a style that she hadn’t taught him - and more closing in to her left. They were surrounded. Spera’s guards were being overrun. How could something like this have happened?
“Don’t Imperions have safeguards against unsanctioned flight coming in so close?” Vasa questioned, checking her blade for Crule charges and readying herself to act.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’ve been set up. I got too close to figuring it all out!”
“Apprehend her!” One of Kovella’s guards lunged forward.
Vasa, realizing there was no time, only looked to Vindom and nodded. They both knew what to do.
“Spera, Alphonze, get behind me. Now,” the keeper demanded. He then closed his eyes, hands trembling as the ground beneath them began to collapse at their feet like a massive drill was digging a hole with them at the center. “Put your hand on my shoulder and speak through me, quick. Tell your anti-Reachers to aid in sealing you under.”
Eres and Vasa held the line, or circle rather, that Vindom was digging with Reach. They dashed in every which direction to prevent KQ from diving in with them.
“Greatness!” Eres shouted into the increasing depths, wiping blood from his face. “What were you too close to? Tell me!”
“Ressa’s esper!” She shouted back before the hole swallowed itself with misty grass. “It was-”
Her voice cut out and Eres cursed. Just when things couldn’t get any worse, another shider clapped like thunder as it abruptly reduced speed. This one stood out: completely black, ancient looking with deep curves and gothic swirls.
Seren Night had arrived.
By the All-Mother… am I the reason we were somehow tracked here? Could it really be that this bastard has been following me since my trials in Verglas?
“Ahhhya!”
A Crule-ignited sword was in motion. Oh that’s right, Eres remembered he was still in the middle of a fight. And with a perfectly efficient side-step, his entire face lit orange as the opposing blade whirred parallel to hit nothing beside him.
Crack.
Eres slammed the hilt of his sword into the terrorist’s face, then shouldered him so he was reeling back. He could see the disorientation in his movements, knew he could kill another right now if he had to, but when looking to the Crule charges left in his hilt, he thought better of it. Even in the heat of battle, Eres knew he would need every inch of help he could get if he was to go against him again. So, for an alternate ending to this bout, Eres delivered a powerful kick to the chest.
He stepped over him like he was roadkill and rushed on to Spera’s anti-Reachers, looking up at every interval to see when Seren would decide to drop from his ship. He had a plan to get out of there but needed everyone on board for it to work. And quick.
“Proctor!”
Vasa’s fiery blades slid across torsos at either side, ending with her turning to address Eres as the fresh corpses she just made slumped beside her.
“Top of the spire! I’ll have Ilfrid meet us there. We’ll take Spera and what guards we can and escape! Let’s go!”
Vasa nodded, flipped one blade into its sheath, and burst forth with the wind of an impeller at her back.
Eres dashed forward using winds too, three seconds in between every step looking as though he were being hoisted by angels, using low bursts to conserve the impeller’s stored air. He had to; it was all in preparation for him…
Not too far ahead was the anti-Reachers who were the most outnumbered. Why? What could they do? Even the terrorists looked tentative around them. Were they really the greatest threat?
Eres had no idea what was in store, but he assumed it had something to do with being so powerful with Reach that they could somehow block others with such affinities. It was not every day that he’d meet someone like that.
The gap was closing fast, each of the allies outnumbered four to one. But Eres felt nothing – no fear or second guessing. He’d died, twice now. Once in reliving his grandmother’s death in Gushda, and again in that frozen mountain on the Edge of Eternity. He’d faced an Aegod and lived. He’d lived through all of it.
He had a better question to offer Kovella’s Quittance: What did it mean to be a Skrol? Well, he’d show them.
He spun twice to gain more momentum - blade whirling with him - and shouted to announce his arrival. Wham. Dry crimson metal slapped hard against Glite. The terrorist felt the sting in his back, for sure, as his neck bounced back from whiplash, weapon dropped in blinding pain. It wouldn’t be enough, of course, but it was a start.
Eres sheathed his blade, somersaulted to grab his enemy’s and thrusted with blue-artificed Crule blazing. The strike hissed as it melted right through Glite. More seared, ashy blood coughed in his direction, but he just retracted and continued on. The Imperion’s guard was in danger after all. Next.
Good, the anti-Reacher seemed to be holding his own, albeit in an odd way, but whatever worked. If Spera hadn’t confirmed it he’d think this person his enemy. Glite gothic and woody, movements odd like he was being pulled by invisible strings above him, everything about him was foreign.
But he did have some neat tricks.
The anti-Reacher opened his hand spastically and, on cue, the green mist he kicked up burst into a flash of flame. Effective. The terrorist grabbed his face in agony, not sure if his eyes were burned clean from their sockets. Though a mere flame couldn’t impact a Glite mask. It was just a distraction, a good one though, for the next move wasn’t so fruitless.
With a mighty roar, the strange man’s wooden neck bulged. He crouched and then lifted with such intensity the ground came out from under his opposers like they were on a carpet shaken clean. Eres couldn’t believe it.
Wham.
Everything was upheaved within a twenty-foot strip, flipped, and smashed down hard, leaving the three terrorists either buried or rolling
: weapons scattered, hands over head to take cover from debris.
It was working. This guard could hold his own.
A roaring KQ woman dove from behind, shouting, announcing herself in the same fashion Eres did, then jabbed a midnight purple sparking blade right through the anti-Reacher’s back. The sound was gut-wrenching, like cracking twigs. And when she dislodged it, she twirled with the Crule sparks still live, ending another slice with a chunk of his throat flying in the other direction.
The anti-Reacher fell to his knees, gurgling sounds echoing through his mask.
“No!” Eres’ plan was already failing. He turned to find the other.
Just when things couldn’t get worse, more shiders crashed down to further distract him, to overwhelm. The scene was becoming more daunting by the second.
Where was Vasa? There, her hands were full helping the other guards. “Damn it.” He spun again, whispering to himself. “Two, there were two anti-Reachers. Where is he?”
He impeller-hopped as soon as he saw the other anti-Reachers overcome by more rushing bodies draped in matte-grey, but before he could get there, two enemies burst off the ground to meet him mid-air.
One hurled some kind of canister while the other wound up a hefty two-handed swing with a curved triple-spiked axe.
Eres flipped his device to face forward and blasted the canister back in their faces at the last second.
Poof. A flash burned so bright that it nearly blinded Eres even though it was nowhere near him. The other two, however, lost their composure and scrambled.
Shhluk. Sphhlt.
Two Crule-infused slices made terrorists rain from the sky and allowed Eres to continue flight on a torpedoed path downward. He had to get there before it was too late. He had to make it to the anti-Reacher.
Wind was rushing in his face, hair like a silky flag waving behind him, eyes narrowed and determined.
He crashed down inches from the anti-Reacher, back facing him, incoming terrorists startled. With a figure-eight twirl of his blade, Eres was threatening enough to keep a perimeter for the split-second he needed to grab the anti-Reacher under the arm and burst off toward the spire.
Air was running low, Eres knew, so he would have to touch down long before he wanted to in order to conserve. He would never survive against Seren if he was reckless.
Be measured. Be calm. You will get past this.
Hard steps pounded the smoky ground, kicking up jade green mist along the way.
“Okay,” Eres’ breath was still even despite the chaos, “I have a plan to keep Spera safe. I need your help.”
“We are her protectors. Speak it. Speak your plan, boy.” The voice was terrifyingly deep.
“Connect with the Reacher you were blocking before, Vindom Decalus,” Eres said. “Tell him to get to the top of the Spire and wait for Ilfrid to grab them. He’ll know what to do, don’t worry. He will get her to safety. Also tell him that we’ll meet them there. Yes, all of us. But he cannot wait if we don’t make it. Just go. Tell him that, please.”
The man retracted his mask, revealing skin stitched with bark, iris’ all black except for a faint yellow glow at the center. It was chilling to see, like this was the dark side of Reach. What had this man gone through? What kind of trials did he face to become what he was?
It wasn’t the time.
The anti-Reacher stared at Eres for a moment, making him stand there in anticipation while their enemies were catching up.
“Well?”
“It is done.”
Eres sighed with relief. “Thank you.” He then scrambled for the comm device clipped to his sheath - the one that Ilfrid had tossed to him earlier - hoping that they were still in range of each other. He looked up to the anti-Reacher. “Mr.-”
“I am Orchastumanu. My fallen brother called me Orc.” The anti-Reacher’s face hardened.
“The other anti over there was your… Orc, I’m sorry. We will avenge him. And we can start right now, with them.” Eres nodded to the KQ soldiers closing in. “I have to get this message to Ilfrid and Vasa. Then we must go. Please, hold them off!”
“With pleasure.”
Eres nodded and turned away, holding the strange tube to his ear. “Ilfrid, come in! Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
“Damn it.” He looked for a button and pressed it down, then jerked his head the other way when a loud bang startled him. Orc was putting on a show, using the mist to his advantage, setting it aflame before launching massively thick wooden spears from underground – tree roots – to crash into their enemies, to drive them back.
“Ilfrid!”
“Eres! I’ve been running around the cockpit like a torpa without a head! Terrorists… my god. Tell me you’re okay. Say something!”
“We’re okay. But we need to get out of here now! That’s where you come in.” Eres ducked a body flying overhead and side-stepped Orc, who flew past him. “Get your shider to the top of Spera’s spire. Pick up Vindom and the others there, okay?”
Eres could hear the shider powering on through the device.
“Okay, what about you?”
“I’ll do my best to be there too, but you must go without me if I don’t make it in time.”
“No!”
“I’ll be fine, Ilfrid. I’m a Skrol for Mustae’s sake.”
“You’re still my boy!”
Eres blushed, disarmed of all his training and all of his skill, before it quickly rushed back like a gathering tide. “Do as I say!”
“Mph.”
“Ilfrid, one more thing. He’s here.”
“I see. His shider is unmistakable Eres. Whatever we stumbled upon must be bigger than we expected.”
“I have a different theory. I think we were the bait… that we’re being tracked somehow or he was tipped off.”
“We’ll discuss when I see you. Get to the rendezvous!”
Eres placed the device back on its sheath and yelled, “Orc! To me!” as he sped to round up Vasa.
Orc’s Glite mask reformed over his face as he hunched and used a parcel of ground to surf without water. He skidded in a zigzag pattern, kicking up endless glowing mist that helped conceal their location to buy them some time.
“Proctor!” Eres burst through the fog in a tight mid-air flip and unfurled with a blazing cross slash that sent a KQ terrorist flying. “We have to disengage.” He glanced around to see four of Spera’s guards still active.
“They’re coming down endlessly, Eres. If we leave now, we won’t be able to hold the line. They’ll get to Spera.”
“No, they won’t. I have a plan. Orc, mist our backs. Proctor, let’s go!”
“Ilfrid?” Vasa asked, sprinting beside him.
“On his way to the top!” He looked up to the looming spire.
As they inched closer, they could hear the interlocking panels of the tower churning like the inner workings of a giant clock. But that was hardly a distraction from the increasing army at their backs. More and more KQ terrorists leapt from their shider fleet. It was clear - Seren’s troops would stop at nothing to get Spera. Nothing.
Boom.
An explosion of fire caused Eres and Vasa to cover their faces, to skip a step, but they kept on.
“Cannons,” Vasa said.
“Why even bother? They can’t hurt us with those, not with Glite.”
“To slow us down.”
Eres peered up to the tallest balcony, the one that Spera was standing on when they arrived. She was there again. They made it. Eres tried to make sense as to how: Vindom must have buried them underground, then burrowed to the back entrance of the spire away from the commotion and finally took a spiral up to the top. That must have been it. Thank the All-Mother that Alphonze and Vindom seemed fine too.
Wait, what was Vindom doing? His eyes were closed, hands held up.
“No! He’ll call attention to himself!” Eres shouted to Vasa.
Too late. Eres could feel the rumblings beneath his feet, then the shred of
ripping ground.
“Holy.”
Keeper Decalus upheaved what must have been two hundred feet of land at Eres’ back, forming his own mountain to partition off the gaining terrorists.
“Fly, Eres.”
His name echoing through the ground sent chills through his body, made him skid to a stop and turn to face the mountain. Then he heard muffled thumps at the tip of it. “No,” he whispered to himself, seeing a familiar burly KQ member standing arrogantly atop it. “Joodah.”
“Proctor!” he yelled, watching Joodah level a massive weapon aimed right at the Imperion. “Get Spera’s soldiers to the top. Get them out!”
The sight sparked something feral within him. The betrayal. He remembered like it was yesterday, the good friends they once seemed to be and how hard he was blindsided. Oh, what an easy target he must’ve been. So young, so naive.
Pathetic.
But now things were different. He didn’t have to think twice about retaliation. No more hiding like in Kor, no avoiding contact because of a blood guild in the Colliding Spheres. None of that. Here it was about justice. Revenge.
“Joodah.” Eres abandoned all caution by clicking his impeller. He stopped looking at the gauge, stopped worrying about preserving air, Crule, whatever, and instead did what Vindom demanded him to - he flew.
Like a shrieking bullet, Eres exploded with his war cry to pull attention away from the balcony, to make sure the fight was about him. He wasn’t blind with rage though. He’d been through too much for that. Facing death was never easy, but he was becoming better at it, able to think through it. Could the massive cylinder Joodah was wielding blow a hole in Ilfrid’s shider? Did it have enough force to knock Spera over the balcony despite her Glite armor? Could it net her, capture her? All of the possibilities ran through his mind mid-flight, and all of those outcomes were bad.
He had to stop it, now.
“Joodah!” Eres’ blade shinked, already radiating its blackened Crule, ignited and hazing.
It seemed the terrorist wasn’t frightened either. In fact, he retracted his Glite mask and bore down on the incoming Dawn bullet, grinning all the way. What was up his sleeve? The burly Eplon wound up an armored fist.
