“What-do-we-do? We-can't-possibly-stop-that-man.” Goblin gasped. The boy was shaking.
“I've never seen anything like that.” Altin added, rubbing his head. “He can’t be defeated.”
There was a crash and they all spun to face Leeya. She was faced away from them, leaning against a counter. The noise had come from a ceramic cup she'd thrown. Again, she'd shown emotion. It unbalanced Finn. “We can’t let this happen.” she hissed. “We can’t let that man take this city.” She turned, eyes sparkling. Her bracer glistened as if about to activate. Finn wished it would have—he’d yet to see her ability or even know what it was. Leeya picked up her spear and pointed it at them. “The fleeing citizens were rushing toward the Eastern gates. It looks as if the Northern and Western passages are on fire. I believe East is the only way out, but I guarantee soon the entire city will be surrounded. Leave. Get out of here with the rest.”
Shock jolted Finn. What was Leeya saying?
“This is my home.” she spoke. “I must protect it until I’m dead. You have no such loyalties. Get out and live.”
Fear and stubbornness battled within Finn. He’d promised Leeya he would stay. He knew there were people even now dying around him, dying like the miners in the Crust had. Yet the image of the golden Star-Child wouldn’t leave his mind; the ease in which he'd killed, the way he stood amid the chaos as if content—as if he relished pain and death. A familiar terror entered him. It was the overpowering sensation that had nearly swallowed him as he ran into the Slaglands, leaving Goblin to Nozgull’s hands.
“No!” he shouted. The terror itself was doing something to Finn. Making him stubborn, or perhaps remind him that friends were not made to be left behind. “I won’t leave, not if you stay.” Something warm was unfurling in his chest, a radiant, yet frail confidence.
There was silence in the restaurant.
“Finn... you hardly know me.” Leeya whispered.
“It doesn't matter! You won’t face this alone!” He pulled out his sword and brandished it. “If we die, at least we die giving time for more citizens to escape the city!” He turned to Goblin and Altin, expecting them to be backing out the door. Instead, they held their place.
“You’re-right.” Goblin spoke. His cheeks were flushed and there was a strange look to his eyes. “We-can’t-cower.”
Finn turned back to Leeya. “I believe I know where the Star-Child’s going. We might be able to slow him. Maybe stop him.”
“Where?” Leeya asked, her eyes not leaving Finn.
“He's heading to the Neck. I believe he means to go up to the Upper-District.”
Leeya stood straighter. “Then we must be quick. I know the shortest way to get there. If we do this, we do it as companions. As friends.”
Finn nodded, hoping he hadn’t lived all the way to this point just to die. Altin and Goblin approached them and there was a sudden sense of bonding between all four. Something unbreakable. Fate.
Wahala saw the smoke from a kilometer away. Leaving Salastine behind to guard the wagon of gold with the other two cult members, she rode for the South gate of Kazma. Pouring through three of the four gates were the entire forces of Mal'Bal. They'd grown great in his campaign. She watched as a dozen stone golems broke a new hole into the city wall and slaughtered the people within a home. Another group of golems threw citizens from the tops of the wall. Their bodies plummeted like flaying rain.
Most of the city was in full retreat and many of the soldiers now only guarded the Eastern gate, escorting civilians out. Mal'Bal was letting them run. What the Lich-Lord was up to?
Her horse charged beneath the ruined South gate and she called out to a cult member. The man pointed toward a distant purple tower, rising from the middle of Kazma.
“He goes there, my Queen!”
The man called her by her new title. A loyalist. She hoped there were far more if she were to overthrow the cult's current leader. But for now, she would assist Mal’Bal—her plans had to fester for a bit longer as she adjusted into her new role.
She rode her horse forward toward the tower, spotting Mal'Bal's creepy puppet following her from far above, running on all fours across the rooftops. It was covered head-to-toe in blood. Apparently it’d been having a good time. She smirked, wondering if there were any poor fools holding out at the tower. If there were, they would be met with an ill demise indeed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR:
The Battle for Kazma-Part Two
—And now that we have left land and taken to sky, upon the wings we have sown on our shoulders, the lives we once had now seem so distant and strange. As quickly as we flap, our memories of who we were fade quicker. I hold my sister’s hand and my father’s arm. Both look up and not down. Their eyes already show no sign that they recollect that we were once Lenovan. Our entire town glides around us, pushing higher and higher. At first the children were shouting in joy and glee, twisting around us in the air, their mothers chiding, the fathers commanding. But now we are all silent, a cloud elevating onwards. Higher and higher we go. I no longer remember my name nor how I got these wings. Who am I? What am I? The hands I once held no longer touch and the people I once knew as family are no longer familial. I have lost sight of them among the crowds of others. We all gaze up with mouths open, straining to breathe the thin air. We must go higher. Why do I write this as I fly? Was I a scribe of some sort? What does that title even mean? Our whole town… What is town. What me be? Me no more. I go higher. I am sky. I am air. Wing. Flap. Higher. Higher. High. I see whole world.—
-Abandoned journal found in the middle of the GrassPlains of Faanda.
Finn entered the bottom floor of the Neck, feeling as if he’d been there only an hour before—which he had. No one waited at the large tower. All the crowds that’d rushed inside it before were now gone, leaving the block-wide space empty of any movement. It was suddenly eerie.
His friends prepared for the fight that was sure to come. Altin strung a new bolt onto his crossbow, having scavenged a large quiver from a fallen soldier. Leeya checked her spear's wooden shaft for any cracks and jabbed out with the weapon, practicing. If he lived through the day, Finn would have to ask her how she’d learned to fight so well. Goblin swung his falcata as best as he could, more like a child with a dagger than a teen with a sword.
They centered themselves near the DozDum Organ pipes and tried to calm their breathing, not speaking to each other but instead mentally preparing themselves for whatever might come.
A few moments later, echoing footsteps sounded out as a figure entered the tiled chamber. It was the Star-Child himself, alone and with no troops to back him. He held his arms behind his back in a regal pose. His body demanded an air of confidence. He showed no fear, as if he could care less whether four faced him or a thousand.
“Here we go...” Altin whispered.
The man stopped a hundred meters away from them. He watched from behind his carved mask, breathing like a wild animal. The Star-Child grabbed his mask, setting it on the floor. Finn faced the enemy as he truly was.
The man bore strange features. His eyes were slanted, nearly snake-like, yet widened crazily, showing tiny pinpricks where his pupils were. He grabbed at his face and rubbed it, muttering of too many visions to interpret. Finn suspected the man was insane.
His face bore a linear jaw and a wide neck, yet was also foreign, pale as if he’d lived in darkness. The many veins Finn had seen pulsing along the man's scalp also ran to his eyes and mouth. It gave Finn the sense he was facing an undead, one who'd long passed into the void yet refused to leave the land. Even at their distance, Finn could tell the man stood a chest and head taller than them—a monster.
“Bracer wearers!” the man hissed in pleased amazement. “I heard there were more—quite a surprise. Now I finally meet some.” His voice was strange—there was a cutting accent to it. He looked genuinely happy to see them. “Tell me younglings, do you fear death? Or love it?”
Finn’s stomach churned and the
man laughed. “Ah, Lenovans. You’re all the same.” He spread his arms and paced. “You should join me, not oppose me.”
Finn startled.
“What?” Altin stuttered.
“Don’t deny me. It would be foolish.” The man chuckled. “My devotion is far greater than yours. No matter your answer, I’ll get things my way.” His eyes bore into them.
Finn had no idea what the Star-Child's power was. He could possibly snap his fingers and break all their bones. He held to his sword with more force.
“Why do you attack us?” Leeya asked. “Is it First-Use? Does your bracer control you?”
The man smirked, then clucked. “Stupid girl. Look up to the void above you! Don’t you see the futility of life? Mortal bodies corrode. We. Don’t. Last! This world is not meant for us: for those that expire. Have gratitude for the pain I bring your people! I am your savior. I make you feel. I remind you of existence and take it away, ending your insignificance! Help me bring in a new dawn; a time of anti-life. Help me bring meaning to this world.”
Finn had no idea what the man was talking about. He spoke of life and death as if it were nothing; as if reality was an abomination.
“Leave Kazma and we might let you live.” Altin replied.
The man laughed again. “Let me live? I live and die by my choice.” He spread his arms. “You’ve made your choice then.”
Finn clenched up.
“Behold and face your end! I am Mal'Bal! Lich-Lord! The Golden Agony! Ruler of the Kingdom of Rot! Your bodies will fester here for generations, symbol to your weak ideals! All about you I shall pile the corpses of children and babies! I’ll end the evil you call life before it begins! I’ll single-handedly stop the tide of birth and death! Your lands will be desolation!” He spat the words out, his face growing red with passion and his eyes wide with madness.
The words rang in Finn’s head. This man was the embodiment of everything Finn was against. This Mal'Bal would stop Finn’s dream. He would crush all he loved. Everything within him rejected the man’s words. He couldn’t stay quiet. “No!” Finn shouted, walking forward.
“Finn!” Goblin hissed but Finn didn't stop. He continued to move toward the man.
“Your delusions of death are lies! Your beliefs are wrong!” Finn pointed to the Star-Child, feeling burning hot, as if he emanated heat himself. “This will end now!”
The man had frozen, his face stuck in an unreadable position. Finn stared up at Mal'Bal, breathing heavily, passion flaring. Mal'Bal's golden body glinted in the morning sun. He twitched. “You.” he spoke, his words barely controlled. “What’s your name?”
“Finn SunRider.”
“SunRider. Your caring for the world will only lead to disappointment. You will not find satisfaction in the temporary. I—I’ll enjoy your death above all others.”
As he said the words, movement came from their far right. Entering the Neck from another opening, a cloaked woman emerged. Her eyes were narrow and her skin pale: she was one of the invaders. Behind her, the Golden Puppet followed, crawling on all fours. Like Mal'Bal, the woman held herself in a way that boasted authority. Was she the Star-Child's partner?
“Wahala.” Mal'Bal purred. “Right on time.”
He made a motion with his hands and the puppet ran to his side, standing at perfect attention. Finn studied Mal'Bal. He controlled the creature. Perhaps through the power of his bracer?
“Master. I apologize for interrupting you. I’ll leave if you wish to kill them yourself.”
Mal'Bal shook his head. “No, no, Wahala. Look at them. They wear bracers like mine. They’re special.”
The woman's eyes grew wide. She looked at each of them in turn, her shoulder-length hair flapping as she spun about. Finn guessed her to be in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. Clearly Mal'Bal was the one in charge—perhaps she wielded no special powers of her own.
“Star-Children!” she hissed. “Master, they might be dangerous!”
Mal'Bal shrugged and indicated for her to pull out her weapon. “Nothing we can’t handle.” he purred.
Wahala dropped her black robe, revealing a bandage-and-leather-wrapped body. She was skinny. Mal’Bal frowned at the sight and the two invaders made strange eye contact. Was there more going on than Finn realized? From behind Wahala’s back she pulled out a wicked-looking scythe. Finn's heart beat faster. He'd been expecting the group to face the Star-Child alone, but now there were others involved.
Mal'Bal turned to Finn and sighed, scratching his nose. The move was casual and of one who seemed bored. He waved a hand and both the puppet and Wahala came to life, running forward toward Finn and his friends. The group jumped, readying their weapons.
“For Kazma!” Leeya shouted.
Altin's bracer glowed and in a split second he shot straight up, barely dodging out of the way as the puppet leapt with incredible speed and height. The creature spun and twisted in mid-air, its limbs rotating and grasping, trying to snag Altin's feet. It dropped back, landing on all fours. Immediately it blurred forward, smashing past Goblin who was thrown across the floor. The puppet ran toward the nearest wall and climbed, digging its fingers and elongated toes into the obsidian like it was clay, losing no speed or momentum. Thirty feet up it jumped out again. Altin twisted and performed an uncontrolled loop to avoid being cut in half by sharp arms.
The woman—Wahala—threw her scythe at Leeya. It spun, moving so fast it formed a blurred disk. Leeya swung her spear like a club and the scythe was knocked out of the air toward the puppet. Yet the puppet, its eyesight unreadable, rotated its upper body as it jumped, grabbed the weapon with one extended hand and slashed it toward Altin. The boy, having dodged out of reach, didn’t compensate for the weapon extending the scope of the creature's attack. He screamed as blood spurted out from across his chest.
“Altin!” Finn shouted.
Wahala pulled out two more scythes, sheathed on her legs. She rolled on the floor and popped up in front of Leeya, surprising her. The two began a furious dance of combat across the vast room, grunting and shouting as they attacked and parried.
Altin smashed into a wall, leaving a blood-stain, and fell to the ground, crumpling into a heap. The puppet landed and rushed toward his victim to finish him off, scythe poised for the fatal blow. A falcata hit the scampering monster across the head and it paused. Its body moved slowly, turning to Goblin, who was standing back up. Now weaponless, Goblin was vulnerable—a perfect target. The puppet rushed back the other way like a bucking horse in a mad three-limbed charge, its one free arm holding the scythe. A bolt hit it across the back and again, the puppet paused. Behind it, Altin was wobbling to his feet, a confident grin on his face. His shirt was red with blood. In his hands, he reloaded his crossbow.
“Did you already forget me?” he spoke. “Maybe without eyes it's hard to tell, but you only left a scratch.”
The puppet rotated, turning to face the armed threat. It crouched and spread its limbs, crawling slowly on its fingertips and toes, arching its back. It moved in an unnerving way, accessing Altin with a cocked head. Without warning, it was a blur of speed, bounding forward. It focused on Altin and no one else, leaping up and slashing out, attacking with an unstoppable fervor. Altin dove sideways and took off into the air, panic written across his face. The puppet climbed a wall, spun and swiped, yet Altin dodged the attack.
“SunRider!” Mal’Bal shouted. “You stand there agape and forget the true threat!”
Finn spun, raising his sword and expecting an attack. Instead, he was shocked to find Mal'Bal hadn't moved from his spot. From behind the man, the entrance to the bottom floor of the Neck exploded inwards, showering the room with obsidian and tile. Ducking through the opening was a massive figure—a humanoid shape with a tall cylindrical head. A wooden golem. The monstrosity had to have been twice as large as the stone golem which had attacked the South gate. Mal'Bal laughed as the creation stepped over him and moved toward Finn, its feet shaking the ground.
Altin
had flown through an open elevator hatch in the ceiling and the puppet had followed—neither were in the current battle, having taken their personal fight elsewhere. Leeya saw the golem, yet she could do nothing to help Finn. She clashed with Wahala, the strange woman managing to drive Leeya back, keeping her on the defensive. The Kazman girl was doing everything she could to block Wahala's blurred movements. Wahala pressed the attack, chopping bits off Leeya's spear and cutting the girl across the face. Finn saw sweat dripping from the scythe-wielding attacker and knew she was running out of momentum, losing her energy. If Leeya could hold out a little bit longer, she could win the fight.
That left him with Goblin—who’d picked up his falcata—to face the large wooden golem and its master: the Star-Child Mal'Bal himself. The golem swung a massive oak arm, the dark wood knotted and covered in branches. Finn ducked and rolled backward, wondering how such a beast had been created.
The golem’s lopsided head—a tree stump with roots hanging like a beard—shook and let out a noise sounding like a forest creaking in a fierce wind. It brought its two arms up and Finn barely managed to roll to the side as the monster smashed its limbs against the ground, splintering tile. Goblin ran to Finn's side, lifting him to his feet. They threw themselves behind an elevator control station and rolled away as it was crushed by the creature. Steam burst out, hissing and spluttering.
“We-have-to-fight-it-outside!” Goblin shouted above the noise. “If-we-stay-here-it-will-corner-us!”
Agreeing, Finn sprinted toward the nearest exit, Goblin close behind. The golem gave chase, its legs extending in wide steps. Behind them, Mal'Bal followed, walking with a calm smile on his face. Outside, Finn ran over a bridge, up a set of stairs, and across a long stretch of catwalk, stopping on the other side. He’d had no choice but to leave Altin and Leeya behind to fight their own battles. He raised a hand to halt Goblin, who would have kept running.
SunRider: Book 1 (The SunRider Saga) Page 23
