The Path of the Fallen

by Dan O'Brien

  Leane knew what was about to happen, she had seen the man do it before. She reached out her hand, her voice a shrill scream. “Behind you.”

  Elcites spun, but as he did so it was too late. Fe’rein struck out, his fist passing through the stomach of the Umordoc guardian. A strangled, startled gurgle erupted from Elcites’ lips.

  The mion lifted his arm.

  His hand had passed completely through Elcites.

  The guardian reached down with his two massive hands, trying to wrap around the single arm that held him in the air, but he could not. The energy around it was like an invisible, impenetrable shield that protected Fe’rein. His eyes bulged as Fe’rein twisted his arm within the guardian’s torso. The grinding noise of Elcites’ flesh against Fe’rein’s energy was a sickening sound.

  “He will come,” screamed Elcites, his face a canvas of pain.

  Fe’rein tilted his head, his hateful eyes watching the guardian. “Will he now? I would have thought he would be here already to save the day,” mocked the mion with a cruel grin spread across his featureless face. “Where is he when you need him the most?”

  Arile had already begun his dash across the hall, a blade in each hand as he covered the distance without sound. He sliced through the air, striking out at Fe’rein’s face and then his body, spinning as he carried through each blow. Rage overtook his attack. As he backed away, he looked down and saw that he only held the bone hilts in each hand. The remnants of the blades were scattered at Fe’rein’s feet.

  Fe’rein, still holding Elcites above him, turned and looked at the white hunter. A lecherous grin spread across his shadowed face. “Your time will come soon, White One,” he crooned as he slung his arm out and the battered body of Elcites collided with the far wall, destroying the pile of pallets below the window.

  Arile fell back, tripping on the uneven slant of the floor. Fe’rein towered over him; the writhing shadows of his body leapt from his form and leered.

  Dark eyes within dark eyes watched him.

  Fe’rein reached down and grasped Arile’s neck, lifting him from the ground as if he were weightless. The white hunter clawed at the hands around his neck, a thick vein bulging from his forehead. Red veins coursed through Arile’s eyes.

  “You are the White One, pride of the Re’klu’hereun, and yet here you are. I could crush you if it pleased me. You are supposed to be a prophet of the tundra people. You are nothing, useless.”

  Leane had pushed herself up from T’elen’s side. Pulling a blade free of the sheath at her side, she crept around behind Arile and Fe’rein as they argued. M’iordi had stood by, his hands laced over his chest and his eyes watching the exchange.

  She was crouched as she moved around them, her eyes flashing over to Fe’rein and then to the calm figure of M’iordi. She tucked the knife back against her wrist and crossed the distance between them. His eyes wandered to her and his hands uncrossed from his chest and tensed at his sides.

  “Leane ilsen,” he spoke, the surprise in his voice evident.

  She paused, the blade instinctually flipping back around so that she held it like an ice pick. “Councilman M’iordi, it has been some time since last I saw you. I trust that Culouth has served you well, and that you in turn have done all you can to subjugate your people,” returned Leane with a grim smile.

  M’iordi took a step forward, nodding to Fe’rein as the mion craned his neck to see them. “I can handle this, Fe’rein. You continue with your violence.”

  Fe’rein turned back and threw Arile across the length of the building, his body slamming against the far wall. The material of the structure caved beneath the force of his impact. Fe’rein moved beside Leane with a brief flash and reached out with his hand. The blade lifted from Leane’s grip and floated to the mion. He flipped it over in his hand and then grasped it tightly, dissolving it into a liquid that pooled by his boots.

  Fe’rein looked at Leane, his dark eyes reflecting her image. “Your son has been a thorn in the side of many people, Leane. There are many who believed he would deliver you from this day.” Fe’rein spread his hands wide at the carnage around them: the heap that was Arile and the bleeding mass that was Elcites. He smiled as he gestured to Xi’iom and T’elen. “It appears that you have no savior.”

  Leane looked around the room.

  She felt panic tug at her. She knew that there were no options left. “He has not come, yet,” she managed through the tight line of her mouth.

  Fe’rein laughed.

  The eerie pitch of the sound was inhuman. “I keep hearing that: he has not come, but he will. I must say that it bores me,” he sneered as he flashed forward, materializing right in front of her.

  The stale breath of death washed over her.

  She turned away, grimacing as she did so.

  He leaned in farther.

  “You could never understand. Seth…”

  Her reply was cut short as he struck her across the face, knocking her to the ground. Fe’rein loomed above Leane, his chest heaving. His snide manner was replaced by anger and hate at the mention of his brother’s name.

  “You dare to speak his name?” he screamed. The hatred in his voice caused the shadows of his body to leap up off him like cruel monsters grown from his skin.

  She wiped away the blood from her lips and glowered back at him. “You were always the sullen, useless child of the two. He was strong, brave, and you were pathetic and weak. That is why the Intelligence chose you. They saw your weakness and used it to control you,” she sneered back, her voice taunting.

  M’iordi stepped forward as if to say something, but Fe’rein laid a hand out in his way as he moved forward. Lifting her from the ground, the mion flung her across the room like a rag doll. Her scream echoed as she sailed through the air, and then became only a pained murmur as she collided with the retaining wall of the structure.

  He teleported across the distance and stood over top of her again. The murder in his eyes was accented by the blood red tint that the darkened globes had undertaken. He grasped her by the scruff of her uniform and pulled her free from the rubble as easily as he had tossed her across the room.

  He was eyelevel with her now.

  Her bruised face ran red with blood.

  One eye was beginning to close and the other revealed the hatred she felt for Fe’rein. She flexed her jaw muscles and spit his face, the blood and saliva caught in his right eye, or rather where it would have been. It sizzled and drained away from his face, but he wiped at it with his free hand all the same.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but a flash of pain ignited in his mind. He fell back, Leane still gripped in his hand. Fe’rein shook his head, eyes closed. His grip faltered and she fell aside with a thud. He fell to his knees; his hands wrapped around the side of his face in pain.

  Fe’rein, bringer of Darkness, hear our voice.

  The energy drained away from his features.

  The cruel, puckered features of Fe’rein returned and he gasped for breath as if he had not done so in some time. The outer door flowed with the yellow-striped grab of Culouth and soon M’iordi was surrounded by them as he had been surrounded by Fe’rein’s power.

  The Ai’mun’hereun comes. We need your protection.

  Fe’rein unlatched his hands from around the side of his head and looked around him. He watched as the Culouth troops poured through the door like water through a crack. They all looked to him, their pleading eyes searched for leadership. He pushed himself to his feet. The voices had resounded in his mind like a bell rung near glass, shattering the calm that had been there; calm created of rage and hatred.

  “My mion, what is the matter?” queried M’iordi, stepping out from within the crowd of Culouth soldiers. Fe’rein flexed his hands. The pressure of his shadow fire still crept through his fingers like a vile liquid that had found a home inside his form.

  Fe’rein sliced a hand through the air.

  “The Intelligence calls for me.”

  Wh
ispers and mumbles passed over the assembled Culouth soldiers. There had not been talk of home in some time. M’iordi looked at Fe’rein questioningly. “Why do they call, my mion?”

  Fe’rein closed his eyes, visualizing the extent of his power. As he opened them once more, he was consumed. His face was again the mask of the Creator. “That is between them and me, M’iordi.”

  M’iordi bowed and then opened his hand, gesturing to Leane and the others. “What would you have me do with them in your absence?”

  Fe’rein looked over the huddled forms, a sense of satisfaction in his eyes. “Keep them alive. The Intelligence may yet have use for them. Especially the mother, she is the link to the boy.”

  M’iordi bowed. “We will await your return, my mion. Illigard has fallen, and with them the Resistance. Give my many thanks to the Intelligence.”

  Fe’rein eyed the man.

  There was a time that he trusted the councilman, but he knew behind every word there was a layer of deceit. He nodded slowly and looked to the hunger in the eyes of the soldiers. Women: that was the bane of every soldier who was far from home, who felt the primal touch of senseless violence. Given enough time, they would come to crave it.

  He pointed to the men. “Make sure these women are not harmed, M’iordi,” he ordered, making sure the councilman looked him in the eyes.

  Leane continued to stare at Fe’rein, even as the soldiers lifted her from the ground. Some used the opportunity to fondle her, but that mattered little in the wake of the hatred with which she stared at the mion of Culouth.

  M’iordi bowed again.

  “You have my word. They will not be molested.”

  Fe’rein grunted and pushed past the soldiers, most moving aside to clear him a path. Once outside, he raised his hands into the air. He lowered himself, tucking his arms close to his body, and then sprung from the ground like a burst from a rifle, disappearing instantaneously into the gray cloud cover above.

  His destination was the same as the Ai’mun’hereun.

  ⱷ

  E’Malkai

  E’Malkai stepped through the fabric of time and space. He reemerged in the temple of the Shaman. Ti’ere’yuernen, the Shaman of the East as he had once been called, looked incredulously upon E’Malkai. He had been sitting cross-legged at the center of the room, his dark eyes closed as he searched through the world.

  “You have returned,” he spoke, astonished.

  E’Malkai looked at the Shaman without emotion.

  “I have,” he replied and looked around the room as if it was foreign to him. The silver lettering that was tattooed all over his body glimmered and shone, vibrating within his skin as he took each step. “Much time has passed.”

  The Shaman watched the youth carefully, his attention drawn to the tear in the fabric of Dok’Turmel. The heat of the Dead Sands radiated from it, the edges glowing as if on fire. “How did you return?” he asked as he passed his hand over the tear. His dark hands sealed it once more as if he were simply wiping away a stain.

  E’Malkai took another step forward, the intensity of his power searing a hole in the stone, blackening the floor. “I walked through the barrier, tore a hole so that I could return.”

  The Shaman nearly burst in frustration. “You cannot simply tear a hole in the dimensional barrier of Dok’Turmel. It is simply not done,” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up as he walked toward the youth.

  E’Malkai turned as the Shaman closed the distance. His lidless eyes narrowed at the man’s approach. “I had to return. There was no time to waste.”

  The Shaman stopped in his tracks, staring at the consumed figure of E’Malkai. “There is evil on the other side that wishes to find a way into the realm of the living. If they were to find the tear you created…”

  E’Malkai waved his hand for silence.

  “It matters not. It is already done.”

  The Shaman crossed his arms over his chest.

  “What is it that you would wish to speak of?”

  E’Malkai’s head lowered. “I have been given this power though I would not have wished for it. I have witnessed the death of my father and have seen the passing of centuries before my eyes. My life and my youth have been taken from me.”

  “The Final War is upon Terra.”

  E’Malkai hesitated, turning back slightly.

  “Is it over?”

  The Shaman shook his head. “No.”

  “Has Fe’rein killed many?”

  The Shaman sauntered forward, standing beside the youth and placing a hand on his shoulder; rather at the edge of his power where his shoulder would have been had it not been for the field of energy that enveloped him. “Much of the killing has been done by men. Kyien led a vicious campaign across the swamps of Illigard. Hundreds of thousands have fallen already.”

  “What of Illigard?”

  “It has been taken for now, though it was defended to the last man and woman of the tundra. They gave their lives for you. For their Ai’mun’hereun,” replied the Shaman.

  E’Malkai nodded and continued forward. He lifted his arms from his sides and then pressed them out in front of him, palms facing forward. “Too many have died for the greed and lust of the Intelligence. They must be ended.”

  The Shaman followed the Original Creator forward. “Fe’rein will not simply stand aside once his master has fallen. He will rise with more power. Without the leash of the Intelligence, he will be much more powerful than he was before.”

  E’Malkai turned, facing the Shaman.

  “He is only a shadow of what I am.”

  The Shaman smiled, closing his eyes and nodding.

  “Indeed he is.”

  “I will not return here again, Ti’ere’yuernen.” The Creator hesitated. “You were right about my father. His heart was his undoing. He loved a brother who cared only for himself.”

  The Shaman nodded. “I spoke the truth, nothing more.”

  “I may yet destroy this world, Ti’ere’yuernen. I will do so only after I have taken the life of the creature that enslaved my uncle and the monster that killed my father.”

  E’Malkai reached out with his hands. His fingers flexed as he touched the air, solidifying it as he had done within Dok’Turmel, tearing back the folds of reality and time. A bright light came forth from the center of the tear, beckoning the Original Creator forward.

  Winds blew from it, gales of a storm greater than had ever been seen upon Terra. E’Malkai looked back as he stepped through, watching as the Shaman waved goodbye.

  Time and space engulfed him once again.

  ⱷ

  Illigard

  Leane choked back a sob as the soldier’s fist collided with her face. The piggish turn of his nose and beady dark eyes made him look more the part of evil than he might have been in his former life as a civilian. The stained yellow stripe that traced down his right shoulder was bathed in the blood of the enemy.

  The double doors of the building were cast wide open.

  The cold draft that barreled through could not chill Leane more than the actions of men she would have thought incapable of such atrocities. The army of Illigard was not completely without integrity. Though the building was taken, Illigard was far from occupied. That particular fact was made all too clear as another volley of rifle bursts cascaded through the opening and clipped a soldier who was reporting to M’iordi.

  She had been violated.

  She had heard Fe’rein’s words, but had not believed that M’iordi would see them through. These men of war had become beasts, driven forward by primal urges that were far from under control.

  Her uniform had been torn from her torso.

  It hung in rags over her shoulders from where the Culouth soldiers had pawed at her, tearing away at her pride and dignity with tainted hands. The soldier who loomed over her now had a mind to do as the others had done. The shrill, almost feminine tone of M’iordi just behind him gave him pause.

  “That’s enough, soldier. We are sti
ll at war here. There will be ample time for the spoils once our enemies are plowed into the earth,” he spoke, marveling at his own magnificence and eloquence of speech.

  The soldier took another crooked look at her and smiled, revealing stained yellow teeth from neglect, another fantastic benefit of war.

  M’iordi took his place looming over top her.

  His pale features showed signs of both dirt and fatigue. “So much for the strength of the tundra. You always were quite the whore, weren’t you?”

  Leane looked up.

  Her neck felt heavy and her arms were bound behind her back. She looked over to where Elcites was huddled against the wall. The Umordoc commander had been wounded; he might even be dead, she could not be certain. Her face was swollen, the bruised lids of her eyes very nearly shut from being slapped as they dishonored her.

  “You always were a mindless child, weren’t you?” She cried silently as the ropes bit into her wrists, drawing blood once more.

  He threw his head back and laughed.

  The dip of his throat infuriated her.

  He leered at her as the laughter subsided, and then struck her with the back of his hand. “Fe’rein said that you were to go unspoiled, but that seems an unfair way to treat such a hostile enemy, does it not?” He leaned closer. The fresh smell of his breath baffled her. “There is no need to hide it, my dear. You know you enjoyed it.”

  She snarled and leapt forward as best she could from her knees, but failed in doing so. Receiving another smack across the face, saliva and blood returned to her lips.

  She looked up at him over red and worn eyes.

  “Not jealous are you?” she mocked.

  Her mouth was swollen and her jaw felt numb.

  His neck reddened and it rose to his cheeks, his eyes wide at her words. “Pity that the whore general is not up and moving. She is known for her resistance,” he returned, the venom of his voice guttural.

  They eyed each other, the hatred so thick that it could have been hammered out between them. It was broken suddenly as a soldier marched in. The man wore the same dirty clothing that he had for months.