by Lakshman, V.
He rose like a silver angel, wings outspread, and could see that three more were left. Tomas had just started his third and final round, which meant he’d chosen to continue. If Orion did not defeat these quickly, he’d be facing more of whatever the boy created next.
He tucked his wings and dived, rolling forward in the air even as two of the shades leapt up and arced harmlessly over his tumbling form. He fell upon the one still on the ground and stabbed with his dagger again and again. The last stab covered him in the black soot that served as their blood.
The scream of something new appearing brought all motion to a stop, for the mournful sound echoed and grew, and with it Orion’s heart sank. Then the faint scene of the Test vanished from the center of the dome. In its place knelt the figure of Tomas, dark and sobbing. He looked beaten and broken, rent and burned, and yet he lived.
A voice, tremulous, asked, “Did I pass?”
Orion cursed and looked down, then slowly rose. His wings flexed, shaking off the dirt and muck that had come from his struggle with the shades. Even as he watched, the two nephilim left came slowly toward Tomas, their bodies low and lupine. They moved like predators hunting prey. A low growl seemed to come from all directions. Yet despite the danger, the boy had not moved.
“Get up!” cried Tej. The girl had moved closer to the side of the dome where the figure of Tomas knelt. She could not know the boy was beyond salvation. The only question now was if Orion himself would survive.
The Aeris gritted his teeth, anguish threatening to blur his vision. Tomas slowly rose, his bones snapping back into place, his burns healing. He would get stronger now, and there was nothing Orion could do about it. He had to wait for the nephilim to complete its transformation or Tomas would only reappear somewhere else, somewhere uncontained.
“Did I pass?” Tomas asked again, his voice deeper now and echoing hollowly. The two nephilim had almost reached him when he raised his eyes and looked at Orion. Tomas’s gaze burned with blue fire, demonic and unholy. His body turned dark, almost midnight blue.
Orion breathed in and said simply, “No.”
Tomas dropped a hand, now growing with wicked claws, to stroke the waiting head of the nephilim next to him. The other creature had also come forward and both now stood next to their master, their eyes shining like twin yellow suns. Death’s door opened for a being created by the pure terror of dying, a nephilim nearly as powerful as Orion himself.
Three against one, he thought. He knew Thoth would wait for him to fall before destroying them all, but that fact brought him no comfort. His wings sang a metallic note as they bent around him protectively, and his short dagger stayed balanced in his fist. His gaze carefully tracked to his long blade, laying not too far away, but it might as well have been in Edyn. Getting to it would prove most difficult. This was going to be a close and brutal fight.
The nephilim that was once Tomas looked at the Aeris Lord, his malevolent gaze searching for something. Orion knew comprehension slowly dawned in the creature’s mind. These nephilim knew what they were and their purpose, as if some instinct guided them. Had Tomas passed, Orion and he would have Ascended together and the war against Lilyth would have gained a warrior impervious to possession or being turned.
That had not happened, and the creatures Tomas created in his failure could not be allowed to survive. Only the dome under which Orion now stood protected the rest of the Aeris realm from the peril they represented, and as the Aeris Lord had said before to Thoth, he knew his work.
“You abandoned me,” accused Tomas, his recriminating gaze glowing azure with heat.
His attention was caught by movement to his left and right. Orion shrugged, his eyes on the pair that slowly moved to flank him, “You’re not Tomas anymore. You’re everything he feared. You are despair given life.”
The thing that was once Tomas smiled and said, “I’m hungry.” Its body changed, growing taller, becoming stronger. Its features elongated until it looked almost wolf-like, feral, and dangerous. Then in a guttural voice it said to its minions, “Feast.” And in the blink of an eye, all three leapt for the Aeris Lord, standing alone like a blade of light against the dark.
Orion moved in a blur, leaning behind his wing and using it like a shield. He rammed the first minion and smashed it to one side. Using that momentum, he rolled under the other’s leap, his eyes still on the nephilim of Tomas. The hulking creature had already pivoted with Orion’s roll and would intercept him in a heartbeat.
Then Orion’s roll brought him to where he wanted and his hand closed on his long blade, the steel unsullied and gleaming. He rose but one of the lesser shades had already leapt, hitting his wing and knocking him back. His dagger hand came up, stabbing twice, and the thing yelped in pain but did not die. Instead it bit down on his dagger arm, holding it like a vise. Only his armor protected him from the thing’s teeth and dark touch.
Orion saw the nephilim of Tomas just as the creature swung a clawed hand, raking his chest and gouging out three furrows across his breastplate. He kicked out and caught the nephilim in the face, then slashed down with his sword. The blade bit into the neck of the creature on his arm and it exploded into a cloud of black.
Before he could draw a breath a weight crashed into his leg, knocking back down and pinning him. The other minion crawled up the body of the Aeris Lord toward his face. Orion didn’t hesitate but brought his dagger in a short, brutal arc, stabbing the creature in the ear. The dark being exploded in mist and Orion rolled over onto his knees. Then what felt like a knee crashed into his visor and slammed him back onto his back.
“Now you would kill me?” the nephilim of Tomas cried. He looked around the circle, his eyes coming to rest on Thoth, who watched impassively. “I hunger… why?”
Orion squeezed his eyes to clear his head, then propped himself up until he faced the creature Tomas had created in his death, for in truth this was nothing but an echo of the boy, twisted and corrupt. Yet the Aeris Lord still felt a need to answer that memory of the Tomas he once knew, and said, “Know that I loved you in life.”
The thing that was Tomas turned to face the Aeris Lord and replied, “I remember me, my life… Jesyn.” The creature’s glowing eyes looked down at that, as if it truly did remember. For a moment, it looked almost pitiful.
Orion sighed and rose, his long and short blades in hand. He nodded and said, “Your hunger will grow and each Aeris you feed upon will fall to your dark touch, creating more. You are a pestilence, a disease that if freed will wipe us from this land.”
Tomas crouched, his burning gaze now fixed on the winged lord who meant to end him. His voice came out low and dangerous as he said, “And so you would stand against me, alone?” His form grew more solid, darker, and Orion knew it was time. The transformation was complete.
He met the creature’s burning gaze and nodded. No words were necessary, or left. In the blink of an eye the thing leapt at the Aeris Lord, its razor claws outstretched. Orion ducked under his wing as the creature sailed overhead, its claws raking the wing blades out in a shower of white mist and rending that wing to shreds. Orion knew he’d only have one chance and punched upward with his shoulder, slamming into and flipping the nephilim over.
The creature landed on his feet but Orion was already in motion, spinning with his other wing outstretched. It sliced through the chest of the nephilim, even as the Aeris Lord’s dagger followed, punching into its gut.
The nephilim of Tomas fell to its knees in front of Orion, looking up at the Aeris Lord. Its form shrank until it looked just like Tomas had in life, except for the eyes. “It’s not fair.”
Orion stepped forward, his long blade grasped in both hands, point down. “I mourn for thee.” With that he stabbed his blade into the mouth of the creature and through its body, impaling it to the ground. The blade stuck, even as Tomas exploded into a fine black mist, leaving it standing upright and alone with Orion’s dagger clattering next to it. The Aeris Lord fell before his blade sobbing, knowi
ng Tomas was dead, and with that so too was their chance to Ascend together.
The dome fell, and Thoth came to stand next to him. “You did what you must,” the Keeper said, softly. Tej’s arms were on him, her head against his arm.
Orion didn’t look, but instead drew a deep, shuddering breath. Then he let it go with a curse and snapped his visor up. “We always do.”
A hand came to rest on the Aeris Lord and Thoth’s voice continued, “There will be others. You may yet Ascend with one that proves worthy.”
Orion shrugged off the arm and snarled, “I’m saddened for Tomas, not myself. He would have been a stalwart ally but was hurried to Trial.” The Aeris Lord gently disengaged himself from Tej, then stood slowly, retrieving his blades. One wing hung in tatters, and his chest plate and greaves showed the damage from the creatures’ claws. Yet they were slowly healing, as if his very armor were somehow alive. Orion knew he would be physically fine, but his heart felt broken. “I am not fair company, Keeper. I feel today is just a reminder of what is to come.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, but gestured to Tej, who followed with her head hung low. Behind them came Helios, his orange and red armor like a sunburst on a cloudy day, somehow disconcerting in this now mournful place.
The group walked away slowly, with Orion’s thoughts on Tomas and what could have been. Possession, what Lilyth and her Aeris Lords offered, was not an option for those who felt as he did. Ascension was the only path to joining with the people of Edyn and Orion would uphold that right with his last breath. Though Thoth was right and there would be others he could endure the Trials with, the loss of Tomas was almost too much to bear. He could not be near the place where the boy fell.
As if echoing his thoughts, a spear of light lit the world behind him and his companions, and he knew the Keeper had also departed.
Brianna
The first sip of power can become an unquenchable thirst,
As the thirst itself becomes the center of one’s thoughts.
- Rai’kesh, The Lens of Leadership
Arek moved quickly for Lilyth’s abode, carried by the dark shade of Cainan. He had thought her castle much closer, but the immensity of the pyramid upon which her castle stood played tricks with gauging distance. It was just too difficult to comprehend something so big, and the result was the queer feeling of having traveled a great distance only to look up and see that nothing had changed.
After a flight lasting the better part of the morning Arek called a halt, pointing to an overhang that offered some protection from being directly viewed by any passersby. Below them lay the ravine they still followed, leading straight to the city of Olympious like the swipe from a hoe furrowing the ground. Cainan tilted his wings and fell, swooping down to the spot indicated and depositing Arek gently to the ground.
No sooner had they touched down when the dark shade of Piter appeared, his arms crossed in front, his hands tucked into each opposite’s sleeve. He smiled and bowed, “A nice place to relax.”
Arek realized that Piter’s appearance no longer triggered the sudden vertigo or pausing of time. Piter seemed somehow more independent here, as if his existence did not rely so heavily on Arek’s actions. In fact, the shade seemed more a part of this world than he ever had back in Edyn.
“That’s it? Nothing more helpful?” Arek asked, more than a bit frustrated at their slow progress. “You brought me here. What now?”
“I will try harder to be helpful, Master,” Piter replied.
That was strange, to have the shade be so amicable. It made the hairs on Arek’s neck stand up. Breathing out, he pulled himself together and motioned to the two and said, “I trust you can both stay out of sight once we arrive? No sense in having other Aeris react as Cainan did.”
To this the dark shade did not respond, as if nothing of the old Cainan’s emotion and ire survived. Arek wondered about that and whether his consumption of the Aeris Lord had created a being less independent than Piter. Clearly, much of whatever made Piter unique had survived his creation. The same could not be said about Cainan, at least not yet. The shade was silent and grim, staring straight ahead unless spoken to directly.
As if contradicting Arek’s last thought, the dark Aeris Lord turned his glowing blue eyes to the horizon behind them and said, “Someone approaches.”
That got his attention immediately and he turned to look in the direction Cainan indicated. Seeing nothing, he gestured to them to gather closer, crouching as he quickly thought through options.
“On foot or by air?” He peered past the legs of the dark Aeris Lord but could still see nothing.
“They have a prisoner on foot,” Cainan responded. The dark shade squinted, holding one hand out as if gauging distance, then he crouched next to Arek and pointed so he could follow Cainan’s line of sight.
The land lay spread out before him. From Arek’s vantage point under the overhang, he could see down into the ravine and across the green expanse to either side of it. The sun splashed its color generously from behind, lighting his field of view and giving him the ability to pick out details with a clarity so acute it almost hurt his eyes.
It only took him a moment to catch the flash of light, the sparkle of sun striking metal wavering in the rising heat. He squinted, and could soon make out what seemed to be a party of warriors moving two abreast, their armor catching and reflecting the sunlight in brilliant bursts of silver and gold.
Between them came a figure, stumbling with the weariness that bespoke a long journey by foot. Arek quickly adjusted their position to better keep them from sight. The sun setting at their backs would hide them in its glare, but he wanted to leave nothing to chance.
Then something occurred to him. “Why walk?”
Cainan did not respond, but Piter said, “You mean, why not fly?”
Arek did not take his eyes off the two columns when he responded, “No, I mean that Lilyth has the power to gate people. With that, why expose a prisoner or your men to possible capture?”
“A trap for us?” asked Piter, genuine concern in his voice.
“Maybe,” Arek said, looking at the columns more closely. There was something strange. The Furies escorting the prisoner were large, as large as Cainan himself. That made them three times taller than the average person from Edyn, yet the prisoner stood over half their own height. In fact, he or she was quite a bit thicker in limbs and… dwarven!
Arek sat back, shocked. The memory of the fight in the bowels of Bara’cor came rushing back, and with it an emotion he found hard to control: anger. The dwarven leader, Prime, had been a dangerous enemy and would have killed them all if not for… Arek looked sidelong at Piter.
The shade, for all his rancor, had saved his life then. Arek realized with some chagrin that he’d never thanked him for that act. When Prime threw his poison daggers, Piter’s intervention had been the necessary catalyst for the discovery of his own flameskin. Arek looked back at the prisoner, quelling his anger and hate for a moment, letting rational thought work its way in.
Though this was a dwarf of the same race as the assassin, he or she was still a prisoner of these Furies, and by that extension, of Lilyth. Did he dare interfere with her plans for this person, or as her “son,” was this his prisoner as well?
Arek thought about that, and realized that any affiliation with Prime was not yet certain. Perhaps this person could be a valuable ally. To find out, they would have to investigate, and the question of why these winged Furies were walking never strayed far from his mind. It seemed on the surface to be a tactically unsound decision, but Arek kept his mind open to other circumstances.
“We should steer clear of these,” said Piter. He looked at Arek and continued, “They can end us if they kill you.”
Strange, but Piter seemed actually scared, a far cry from his usual acerbic self. Arek considered this, then looked back at his minions and said, “I don’t die easily.” When he looked at the dozen Furies leading their prisoner he could feel his own hu
nger rise. Understanding why a dwarf would be prisoner to Lilyth’s forces was an important piece of intelligence he’d want to know before facing the demonlord who called herself his mother.
He looked at Piter and Cainan and said, “I intend on taking these Aeris and adding them to our ranks. You hide yourselves. When I approach, attack from the flanks. Turn them to our cause. I will deal with the prisoner.”
Cainan bowed. “As you command, Master.”
“Are you sure?” Piter asked, “What use is one dwarf?”
Arek arched an eyebrow and said, “That dwarf is a prisoner of Lilyth. I want to know why.”
The shade who had once been his fellow apprentice looked apprehensive, almost sick, as if the idea of attacking these Furies was somehow frightening. Piter stood there for a moment longer, but when Arek refused to respond, he bowed with obvious reluctance and said, “Yes, Master.”
Arek watched the two fade from sight. He then turned his attention to the nearing columns, winding their way along the bottom of the ravine toward Olympious. Now that they were closer more details became clear. That the prisoner was female was easy to see, but other things were harder to understand.
The dwarven prisoner stood in the center of four chains locked to a ring that encircled her neck. Occasionally her form would blur, as if vibrating at a very high speed. Whenever it did, The men’s stances tightened in anticipation. Whatever they thought would happen however, never did. The blur made Arek recall when Prime’s body sank into stone, and he found himself wondering if the ring was somehow blocking something similar.
A reason for walking now became slightly clearer. If they intended on transporting her with her collar attached, flying would have served as a hangman’s noose. Whatever Lilyth’s plan was, it seemed to at least to include keeping her alive.
The other Furies had taken station between these four chain bearers, creating two columns of six men in each. They trudged along with a warrior at the front finding a path through the rubble and rock scrap littering the ravine floor. All had wings folded neatly along their backs, and were garbed much like Cainan had been, with mail and blade. None, however, had the magnificent armor and deadly bladed wings of the two Watchers he’d seen at the henge. They had been stunning to behold in action, their prowess reminding him of the effortless puissance of the masters of the Isle.
