by Jason Letts
But before he could regret what had brought him here, the pressure erupted from him in every direction, all at once shredding every inch of his armor and spraying the slivers. Shrapnel grated the Warlord’s arm and face, causing him to turn away and drop Rowland’s lifeless body immediately, but the shockwave continued on, eviscerating spearheads and disintegrating swords.
Hearing the chinking of exploding metal, Chucky flung the mace into the air. The shockwave passed through it, ripping it apart, and spewing the pieces on those below. The knife in Will’s pocket shattered like glass, and he screamed when it pierced his leg. Beyond the battlefield now, arrowheads on the slope tore apart, and the remaining metal supplies in Shade Base Camp turned to dust. But Rowland’s power could not compare with the old man’s, and so the last ounce of his influence dwindled and died before extending much further.
“No!” his friends cried, riddled with disbelief. They couldn’t bring themselves to wish away the deed he had taken upon himself, and yet the outcome brought a horrible perversion to the battle beyond anything they had yet witnessed. Suffocating agony engulfed them, sealing them in a writhing carousel of loss.
As if the entire battle had hinged on Rowland all along, the recovering Shade forces now seemed hopelessly outnumbered. All around this meadow-like oasis in the wasteland, regrouping black uniforms revealed superior numbers and the advantage they had gained through a bloody and bizarre conflict. The color returned, displaying the full extent of unspeakable gore and merciless savagery.
A signal came from back on the veranda to fashion a new defensive barrier, but the only ones to answer it were rampaging Sunfighters. Remaining Shade soldiers fled in every direction, many of them outrunning the advancing enemy back into camp and through the alleys.
Even as the first flames licked buildings along the camp’s edge, Mira and her friends scrambled to escape to safety. Thugs, savoring the imminent victory, chased them back to the slope’s bottom end. After Vern and Aoi managed to eliminate their most ardent pursuers, Mira turned to find that the battle had largely abandoned them, moving into base camp. Buildings crumbled and collapsed, fires spread, and screams echoed through the air.
Just as they saw another group of warriors swoop around to engage them, specks of dust turned into narrow lines that grew in thickness and took a red tone. Mira’s sister appeared, encouraging her underlings to find a suitable diversion elsewhere.
When her face filled in, almond eyes and brown locks under a red helmet, everyone could see her greedy smirk and unquenchable ferocity. Still racked by the emotion of meeting her sister in her vision, Mira’s mouth dropped open and a numb tingle swept through her empty hands.
“Clara,” she whispered humbly.
“Told you, that name ain’t nothing to me. Now where’s your weapon? Betcha can’t hold me off again!” the identical looking girl taunted, raising her golden sword.
Mira, her arms limp and her head cocked to the side, gazed at her sister with all of the heartfelt tenderness that she had at their childlike counterparts.
“I won’t fight you, Clara. You’re the rambunctious one and I’m more thoughtful, but we make sense together because we’re sisters.”
“In seconds this here sword’s gonna lop your head clean off. Better get to doing something and snappy!” Pyrenee ordered, taking an aggressive step forward.
“You’re beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that? You’d steal all the attention from guys.”
Pyrenee pressed her lips together as she reached back for the strike, but then she just froze when Mira didn’t move a muscle to stop her.
“You take all the fun out of it,” she scowled. “I gots bigger fish to fry anyways.”
Flustered and aggravated, Pyrenee stepped back and looked to the top of the slope. The mayhem going on there beckoned her, and she vanished to take part in it at once.
“I can’t…I can’t believe any of that!” Vern puzzled along with the others, who were now getting a good look at Mira for the first time since she had returned to them. Mira wouldn’t lift a finger against her sister, and she mused about her uncharacteristic show of mercy.
“That’s my sister,” she giggled, donning a demure blush. Of all the bizarre things they’d seen that day, her carefree joyfulness seemed stranger than the rest.
Haggard and distraught, Commander Carmichael spilled into a vacant alley already enclosed between rows of flaming edifices. Raucous noise polluted the air, and he jerked his head about violently as he raised his arm to keep the heat from his flushed face and matted blonde hair. Bending over to clutch his knees, he huffed and coughed until something in the flames caught his eye and made him stagger back.
The flames on one of the tents writhed curiously, stoking and whipping itself into the grinning face of a girl. In an instant, the flame leapt into the glaring sunlight, hanging in the air on its own. Transforming and filling out, the reddish hues became a suit of armor, and the figure of Carmichael’s nemesis emerged.
“Told you I was a coming!” Pyrenee gloated, forcing a scowl on the military leader’s face.
“You think you’ve won, but you haven’t won anything!” Carmichael glowered, spitting his words at her.
“You gots no idea,” she said. “Won’t be long before we take everything!”
“Then you’ll be left with nothing. It’ll make you empty without anything left to grab, and that’s when you’ll realize I was right all along.” Pyrenee squinted at him for a moment, thinking about what he said before shaking her head to dismiss it.
“Big talk for a man about to get hisself run through,” she laughed, raising her golden sword high in the air. It arced at the tip, catching the sunlight. Though he seethed hatred, Carmichael too mustered a smile.
“You think you can kill me? You don’t have a prayer!” he snickered.
“I never wanted to kill somebody so bad in my life,” she fumed.
“Then you’ll have to go through me!”
Just in front of Carmichael in the middle of the street, a shadowy figure filled the empty air. Dark despite all the light, Neeko’s ghostly apparition stood firm in defense of his mentor from The Shadowing. The ragged leader peeked over the shoulder of his apprentice as Pyrenee settled on the ground.
“I couldn’t have taught a better shadow, my boy. You’ve done me proud, but now I need you. I’ve never showed you my power. I’m an agitator, and in its excited state even your shadow will be strong enough to repel any attack.”
Reaching over the other shadowy shoulder, Carmichael placed his hand and held it there. Though it should’ve passed right through, his touch made the transparent figure grow solid and tangible. The dark figure, no longer just a trick of light, beckoned its enemy forward.
“That ain’t nearly enough to stop me!” the girl raged, lunging forward and swinging for Carmichael. Neeko raised his arm, blocking the blade dead before it could connect. Twirling around, she sliced at his midsection, but his other arm stopped her blade. Furious, Clara’s mental projection slashed wildly at Neeko’s shadowy double, never managing to make it to the cowering man behind. She grew flustered, abandoning her target to swing aimlessly here and there in the open air, knowing that Neeko’s true self was hiding in the light somewhere nearby.
“Where are you?” she screamed at him, causing Neeko to cackle.
“Why, you want to give me a kiss?” Neeko grinned, tilting his head to speak to his mentor. “You know, I like how feisty she is. She’s much cuter than her sister too. And I bet she doesn’t have nearly as many stupid ideas rattling around upstairs. In fact, probably not much up there at all. Isn’t that a fact, Clara?”
“That ain’t my name!” she wailed, taking another swipe in vain. “I’ma cut off your balls so quick you won’t even know they’re missing!” Both Neeko and Carmichael chuckled.
“It was so pathetic,” Neeko went on, “watching Mira practically kill herself to rescue you. On top of Shadow Mountain, she stared into your face and vowed on her
life to save you, even though there’s not a weaker soul alive. She destroyed herself, all for you, and it’s hysterical this is what she got for it.”
“She did?” Pyrenee asked, her snarl fading for just an instant.
“I saw that Mira woke up. Tell me, did you kill her?” Carmichael posed, holding in his laughter, but the girl’s silence gave him an answer clearer than any words. “You let her go? I can’t believe it! You’ve got a soft spot for her. A weakness. Deep down you’re no different than any other sixteen-year-old girl, vulnerable and needy.”
“I am not!” she screamed, so ashamed she’d been caught being merciful that it felt like she was burning alive. Rather than admit to herself for even a moment it might be true, she charged forward, raising her sword high and slicing from the right. Neeko raised his arm to block it, but at the last second the sword vanished, reappearing in her other hand and slipping by Neeko’s side to run Carmichael through. She stood so close to the tangible shadow that she kissed him on the cheek.
“You’re next,” she whispered.
At the sound of Carmichael’s gasps, the face of Neeko’s shadow went slack before filling with rage. Neeko brought his arms inward to catch her, but they touched nothing but air. Now Pyrenee was the one laughing, and she drifted into the sky and disappeared.
Neeko’s shadow vanished and his body became visible just behind Carmichael in time to catch him as he fell. Blood ran from a gaping wound down his side, the pain making him strain his face. Neeko, in complete disbelief, stuttered and wept.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please, no! I thought I had her.”
“Quit being such a little baby,” Carmichael scolded him. “Listen and let me die. The fight’s not over until they take Darmen. Stop them there. But most important, always look out for number one! You’re a survivor, Neeko, survive!”
The last mutterings of the commander of the Shade army faded into the sounds of bonfires and screams. Neeko clutched his fallen mentor, his expression alternating between despair and rage. The sound of an angry growl came from close by, catching Neeko’s attention and urging him to flee. He exited so quickly that Carmichael’s head bounced when it smacked against the ground.
Making it into the burning camp, Mira and her friends heard a loud scream. Its shrill sound unsettled them, proving they were still in danger.
“That’s Gloria!” Aoi said.
“Are you sure?” Will asked, and she nodded emphatically.
“Then let’s go help her!” Mira decided, taking off down the alley.
As tired as the others were, they followed her. Flames and smoke awaited them in every direction, but they pushed on, searching for Gloria. Black Sunfighter uniforms flashed between buildings, and the victors’ giddy howling echoed around them. The only tan uniforms they saw lay lifelessly in the dirt.
Since Mary only had a rough idea which direction to go, they canvassed the rubble-strewn pathways looking for a way to Gloria. A loud banging noise came from within one of the nearby buildings where pillagers raided the supplies. It distracted them just long enough for a fiendish scoundrel to catch them from the opposite side.
He carried a sack of flour in one arm, tossing some of it in front of him. Hanging in the air, it replicated the front-side of its maker and seemed to come to life. While he made more flour monsters, the first took a swing at Mary and caught her on the cheek. She fell to the side as Aoi delivered a roundhouse kick to its stomach, knocking away a hefty chunk. But a large hole in its middle did not stop it in the slightest.
Chipping away at these conjured creatures proved only a distraction, and Roselyn learned what the scoundrel really sought when his hands ran behind her neck. Grasping the thin gold chain, he tried to snap it loose. As he fiddled and she struggled, the blue drop of topaz emerged from under her uniform.
All at once the flour monsters collapsed into dust and the raider’s hands grew feeble and limp. Roselyn, singing, brushed him off and turned to look him in the face. He shuddered with repentance, putting his hand together to beg for Roselyn’s forgiveness.
She took the bag of flour from him and pointed in the direction of vacant wastes. Nodding his head in heartfelt gratefulness, he turned to flee. Just then others spotted them from the end of the lane, and so they ran rather than risk that Roselyn wouldn’t be able to fend them all off. She slipped her jewel under her uniform and held it gently against her chest as they departed.
The pathways growing vacant and the chances of finding Gloria dimming, they came around to the residential area, now a scorching cauldron of fire. The tents closest to the east had collapsed from the shockwaves, so they moved to those still standing further down the row. They heard another scream and call for help, and they peeked along the side of a burning tent and saw Gloria standing along the corner, the flames hanging just over her head. It wasn’t until they came closer that they discovered someone had tied a length of rope around her neck and the tent post.
“Please! You’ve got to hurry!” she begged.
Her hands had been all over the rope, which glowed a vibrant green. The flames crept down the canvas ever nearer to her red hair. Since no one had a knife and no one else could touch it, Aoi tried to absorb the slime while untying the knot, but it proved slick and unyielding. The flames flickered right in front of her head, but she got her hands on the knot. As hard as she pulled, the knot was much stronger than a toothpick.
“I can’t do both,” she said, dismayed. “I can’t be strong enough to untie the knot and weak enough to absorb the poison!”
Gloria cried and begged, hysterical. Some of her frizzy hair started to catch fire. Trying to see through the sunny sky to the web beyond, Aoi took a deep breath and untied the knot.
Everyone gasped as the rope came loose and Gloria lurched away from the tent. Vern didn’t wait another moment to carry Aoi back into the lane, the others following close behind. They could see the suffocated, stricken look on her face and the green glow contrasting her inflamed, painfully sore hands. Setting her in the middle of the pathway, Vern looked into Aoi’s eyes, which looked as vulnerable and attentive as a newborn’s.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Aoi! We can’t lose you too! Does anybody have anything to help? Is there anything we can do?” he shouted, turning to the others.
“It won’t last forever, Vern. Nothing lasts forever,” she whimpered.
Mira reached into her pocket and removed a small, embroidered bag. It was much thinner than she remembered it, but reaching in she found it was not altogether empty. Feeding the very last few strands of healer hair to Aoi, they waited to see if it would be enough.
“Just be calm. Maybe you can still absorb it!”
Aoi exhaled stilted and heavy breaths. Her eyes gazed into the clear blue sky. She struggled to slow her heart before the poison could get into it. In her mind, she drove away the impulse to look back over her life as if it were about to end. Vern pleaded with her to recover.
“It’s this moment, right now and right here with you. That’s all I’ve ever had,” she whispered.
Something of a smile came to her lips, but nobody could be sure what it meant. Her breathing became less labored, and her hands appeared in better shape. They had forgotten altogether about the flames and their torrid environment, but the relief of seeing Aoi take her first step back from the brink reminded them of all of their troubles. Even as Vern helped her back to her feet, it became hard to believe that their situation had improved at all.
“Where’s Will?” Mira asked, noticing he was not among them.
Down the row a bag sailed from inside a tent and landed in the pathway. A few others followed it, some of them smoldering. By the time they reached it, Will carried out the last of the bags. He set them on the ground and wiped the sweat from his brow. The flaming tent behind them looked like it would collapse any minute.
“You didn’t want to see if Aoi would be OK?” Chucky wondered. No one could believe that Will had chosen to get their bags instead
.
“I see that she’s OK now. Watching her wasn’t going to do her any good. We might not have gotten our stuff if I didn’t leave,” he defended, leaving Chucky to shake his head.
“We don’t have time for this now,” Vern said. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
Grabbing their things, they moved through the empty roads toward the camp’s west edge. Not a soul remained on the streets, and most of the buildings had been reduced to rubble. Coughing and tired, they anxiously left the smoky remains of base camp with Gloria. Staring out to the west, they spotted the Sunfighter army crossing over the hilltop on the horizon.
“You know where they’ll come to first going in that direction,” Aoi shuddered, supported by Vern’s arm.
“Now there’ll be no protecting my parents,” Mira quivered. “They’ll be lost with the rest of Corey Outpost, and the last thing I’ll have ever said to them was that they were wrong.”
Her words drove home the extent of their failure. The Shade army had been broken, the battle had been lost, and now the true cost of defeat would be exacted from those that were dearest to them. They mourned the loss of Rowland, and it saddened them further to know even his memory would get lost among the sorrows that were certain to come.
Chapter 14: The Night of the Undying Sun
The eight of them trudged for hours over the barren, rolling hills. Gradually, the wasteland passed behind and sparse foliage beside soft grass awaited just beyond. But as much as a more comfortable landscape appealed to them, what they really wanted was for the sun to set so they could go to sleep. It still hung high in the sky, whittling the clouds away to nothing and irritating their tired eyes. At the very least, they no longer felt its harshest effects since the enemy left them far behind.
