The Path of the Fallen

by Dan O'Brien

  Leane looked at him with impassive eyes. “Pity.”

  He reared back with his hand as if to backhand her and then stopped, glowering at her. “I grow tired of beating you. My men no longer care for you. You have grown rank and useless,” he retorted with equal viciousness and hate.

  He grabbed her by the torn sleeve and pulled her to her feet. Her eyes were wide as he manhandled her, pulling her toward the door. The soldiers watched with sad eyes as her screams were lost upon them; deaf ears to a war that already claimed too many lives.

  They emerged out into the open air of the stairs.

  Illigard was bathed in fire and blood.

  The line of flame cut the outpost in half, one side trapped with the mountain to its back and the other pressing against the fires from the east. The roar of the fire droned out everything else; the whipping scream of the immortal flame.

  He pushed her down on to the stone with enough force to make her cry out as her already bruised legs smashed into the earth. He bent close to her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and drawing her face close to his.

  “Do you know what purpose you serve?” he rasped.

  The smoke and the anger that coursed through him had nearly taken his voice. She spit in his face and screamed as she tried to bite his face, the only recourse that she had with her hands bound and forced against the ground as she was. “Damn you, M’iordi,” she cried, her head falling forward, suspended only by his hand.

  He wiped away the saliva with his free hand and smiled as he wiped it across her shredded tunic. “You can die for me. Your death will be a reminder: I have their kings and queens, their leaders of faith,” he whispered feverishly, his breath still not yet as stale as the others who had used her.

  Her eyes widened.

  She had accepted her servitude, of being used, because she believed that there would be retribution for what had been done to her. Being condemned to death so simply was a frightening prospect. “You wouldn’t dare, Fe’rein would…”

  He interrupted her with a sharp smack across her face. “He is not here. He cares little for the life of one whore; even if it was one who had tasted his brother.” His eyes flashed wildly as he drew a slender knife from around his back.

  It was a simple weapon.

  Dark black hilt and silvery steel, it had no inlaid markings, no ornate carvings; it was a weapon of death. He turned, dragging her forward, kicking and screaming, to the very center of the steps so everyone could see. Soldiers of Illigard pointed from beyond the flames, their words lost.

  M’iordi reached high into the sky, sleet turning into rain against his body as the seasons changed. His dark eyes were wide in a zealous rage. “Watch and learn, fools. I will bleed her as I will bleed all those who stand against the will of Culouth,” he roared, his dark robes billowing off of him as the rain and winds grew excited with his words.

  Leane was pulled taut.

  The councilman was tall enough that as he dragged her to her feet, she could do nothing but squirm against his grip. The thunderclouds shuddered violently as lightning danced across the sky.

  M’iordi motioned with the blade once more.

  Soldiers of Culouth turned away, many had known Leane before the war, heard her kind words. M’iordi brought the blade down and stabbed her square in the chest. Her eyes opened wide, tears forming at the edges and pooling at the center. She gasped, falling forward as M’iordi loosed his grip. She uttered a strangled scream as she fell, her hand clawing out in front of her.

  M’iordi grinned like a jackal as he drove the blade into her back, pulling it free again only to drive it in again. A shower of blood sprinkled across his face and was quickly washed away by the rain. She was frozen, her hand still reaching out in front of her, gnarled fists trying to reach the unknown. M’iordi rose from atop her, wiping his blade on his robes so that it was clean once more. The cold wind blew her hair from her face, the last of her tears touching the stone of Illigard.

  ⱷ

  E’Malkai

  E’Malkai stopped and wobbled, his feet almost giving way beneath him. He reached a hand to the side of his head and closed his eyes. He had heard the scream, it sounded in his mind like a thousand screams within a hurricane of sound. He moved his hands to the front of his face, pressing desperately against his skull. His breathing increased, he felt his chest heave. He had felt her die. E’Malkai had seen the passing of her as if he had been standing at her side.

  Fe’rein’s was still upon his back.

  He had felt the passing of Leane as well.

  “You felt her death,” he marveled.

  The mion knew the youth had grown powerful. Fe’rein had spent decades honing his powers, perfecting them, tempering them to his will. His skills were already beyond even the very limits of the Dark Creator.

  E’Malkai nodded.

  Opening his eyes, the flame of the Original Creator receded. The silver tattoos remained, as well as the glow that permeated his being. The white and emerald were now merely a shadow upon him as the blood and death was so often on Fe’rein. He did not answer him, but instead turned toward the west; to Illigard, where he had felt her death originate.

  He rose from the ground and reached out with his hand, turning the air solid as he had done in order to pass through time and space. Fe’rein watched in amazement as the youth reached his hand through and then disappeared, his figure dissolving into open air.

  The Dark Creator pushed himself to his feet and ran toward the tube that had been created and ignited his shadow fire. He dove forward, freefalling into the tumultuous skies beneath him. As he felt the rush of the wind brush over his face, he reached out a hand as the youth had done. The energy of his life-force crawled along his arm and flashed forward. He could not teleport the distances E’Malkai could, but he did know where the youth was going.

  *

  E’Malkai walked out of thin air into the horrors of Illigard not a foot from where his mother had been slain. M’iordi turned in a panic as the youth breached the very fabric of reality and walked to where his mother lay prostrated in a crumpled heap. The councilman backed away, tripping past soldiers and guards as he rushed back toward the building at the top of the hill.

  The Original Creator knelt beside his mother, the sight of the stab wounds made the energy recede. His youthful features were evident as he ran his hands over her injuries. Tears pooled in his eyes as he turned her over; he did not wish to see the rush of her blood.

  Her face was still pitted in horror, the glassiness of her eyes had faded and only a distant look remained. His head fell forward, his long dark hair spilling over her face as he wept silently. He gripped the back of her neck and pulled her head to his chest slowly, cradling her in his grasp.

  He rocked back and forth.

  His tears glistened as they trickled on to her pale skin.

  “Who did this?” he whispered.

  The soldiers who were within distance exchanged worried looks. They started to back away, but the youth raised a hand and pointed a stern finger at them. His dark gaze took them all in at once.

  “Tell me who did this,” he commanded

  One of the soldiers stepped forward, his legs shaky beneath him. “Are you the Creator?” he asked shakily.

  E’Malkai looked at him, the anger and sadness evident in his eyes. “I will be your death if you do not tell me who took the life of my mother,” he screamed, the energy sparking around him and lighting him aflame as if he were drenched in oil and had fallen upon a lit torch.

  The red streak that he wore in honor of the Polypheme had fattened and ran down the center of his face, cutting his features in two as he glared at the soldier.

  The man flinched at the sight of the youth’s power. The soldier held his hands to his face as he looked to the others, but they had tucked tail and run back toward the building where M’iordi had fled. “The councilman, the one called M’iordi,” he stammered before he fled.

  The youth closed his eyes, bul
bous tears broken as he did so. He reached out with his other arm and slid it beneath his mother’s legs and then stood up, carrying her with him. The power of the Original Creator coursed through him, her body protected by the ghostly flames as he walked toward the building atop the hill.

  ⱷ

  Fe’rein

  Fe’rein approached Illigard from above, first seeing the crimson and orange line of flame that cut the outpost in half. As he descended, he saw E’Malkai as he stalked toward the building at the top of the stairs where the mion himself had left Leane.

  He moved out ahead of the youth and landed at the entrance of the building, just ahead of E’Malkai. Smashing his shoulder into the door, he shattered it to pieces. As Fe’rein stepped through, arrows whistled, glancing off of the power that surrounded him, snapping and burning to ash at his touch.

  M’iordi stood far from the entrance and emerged once he saw that it was Fe’rein, not E’Malkai, who had burst through the open door. He fell to his knees before the Dark Creator, a sob escaping his lips as he looked up through fearful eyes. He gripped the edge of his pants in prostration.

  “He stepped out through thin air,” M’iordi cried.

  Fe’rein had always suffered the man because he had a strong will when it came to war, and the taking of lives when necessary. What he saw now was the truth of the man’s quality.

  He was very much a coward.

  “I told you not to harm the mother. I told you not to hurt Leane,” spoke Fe’rein. The very mention of her name panged him. He had always harbored such hatred for her because she had reminded him of his deceit. Now it brought him misery for she had once been a close friend, a caring being who had nurtured him when he was a child.

  M’iordi looked up at Fe’rein, his gaze averted. “She needed to be made an example of. They all did. We could not hold Illigard. I had no choice,” he stammered, his zeal and vigor for her death waned at the grave tones of the Dark Creator.

  Fe’rein turned as he felt E’Malkai approach.

  He bowed his head slightly.

  E’Malkai saw Elcites, his back against a wall, his head tilted aside. Arile sat at his side. T’elen was unconscious and Xi’iom had slipped back into nothingness, his health fading fast.

  He fixed his glare upon M’iordi.

  “You had no choice but to kill my mother?”

  M’iordi stared fearfully from E’Malkai to Fe’rein and pushed himself from the ground, wagging a finger at Fe’rein as he backed away. “I did not wish to do it. He commanded that I must,” he cried as he bumbled over fallen pieces of the roof.

  Fe’rein reached out with his hand, shadow fire exploding and finding its mark. M’iordi raised his hands as the power crawled over top him, consuming him. He screamed as the grip of the darkness eviscerated him until he was nothing more than bones and ash. E’Malkai opened his eyes as the man faded away and then bowed his head, turning with his mother in his arms. He laid her down at Arile’s feet, his tears no more.

  The power of the Original Creator had claimed E’Malkai. “I wish you to honor her as my ancestors honored their dead,” spoke the youth, his once bright blue eyes consumed so that his sorrow was not visible.

  Arile looked into E’Malkai’s eyes. He knew the youth did not mean to return to see the deed done. “As you wish.”

  E’Malkai stood and turned back to Fe’rein, meeting the gaze of the Dark Creator. “This war is ended. No more blood will be spilled because of Culouth or the Intelligence. They are no more,” spoke E’Malkai, his voice dark and foreboding. “This battle ends tonight.”

  The soldiers whispered and gathered, backing away from the youth toward the entrance and then once through, scurried back out into the open air. Their voices carried the news of the end of the war; whether or not a war could be ended so simply remained to be seen.

  The Creators appraised each other as Fe’rein circled back toward the youth. “I did not wish for your mother to die,” he offered, his hands spread wide.

  E’Malkai bowed his head.

  He flashed forward, his clenched fist connecting with Fe’rein’s stomach. Spinning, he drove his foot deep into the chest of the Dark Creator. The mion was lifted from the ground and exploded through the roof of the building.

  E’Malkai turned slightly.

  Gazing back at the others, he nodded his head.

  A farewell would not serve any of them.

  E’Malkai leapt forward, his body gliding along the air as if it were silk sheets, and burst out into the cold open air. He hovered as he scanned the horizon and saw the smoking billows of energy against the white-capped peaks of the mountains that guarded Illigard.

  He shot forward, air rushing against his warm face as he barreled toward Fe’rein. The Dark Creator had pushed through the layers of snow upon impact. The heat of his shadow fire had melted what had fallen beneath him, carving a deep gash in the white hills of the mountains.

  The youth hung just above him and extended his hands, thumbs touching one another and palms facing forward. The energy of the Original Creator sparked and then flowed over his hands like muddied waters, casting a glow on the face of the Dark Creator.

  E’Malkai screamed as the power coursed over top and he let it loose. A shaft of emerald energy splashed over the mion and drove him through the mountain, carving a hole through stone and slate. E’Malkai kept on him, driving blow after blow against his face as they tumbled through the core of the mountain and out the other side.

  They crashed into the dark, angry ocean that was farther west of Illigard. Foam exploded around them as they dove deep into the frozen depths of the sea. Bubbles floated back as air expelled from their lungs and they crashed into the sandy sea floor. E’Malkai pushed himself hard from Fe’rein and extended his arms once more, a brilliant white beam of energy striking the Dark Creator and pushing him against the unyielding floor of the ocean. Water stirred and the ocean toiled with the powerful display of the Original Creator.

  E’Malkai propelled himself from the deep. Water sprayed from alongside him as he resurfaced from the sea, climbing into the skies above it. He spiraled, water sluicing from his body as he twirled to a stop and looked at the torment of the waves crashing below. E’Malkai looked on impassively, as if he had simply strolled down the street.

  The surface of the water boiled, ripples and waves rising from a single spot near where E’Malkai had emerged from the waters. The bubbles grew larger and soon the liquid rose as if a mighty creature was forcing its way from beneath.

  Crimson and black, blood and shadow, shone from within just before it broke free and the column of shadow fire leapt toward E’Malkai. Tendrils of hate lashed from it as it climbed toward the Original Creator. He crossed his arms in front his face as the energy struck him.

  The beam of energy crushed up again his arms, the white field that surrounded the youth buckled and groaned as the crimson and black threatened to break through. He ground his teeth, the piercing scream of the power resounding loudly in his ears. His brow sweated as he uncrossed his arms. Forcing his hands in front of him, he grasped at the mass of energy that so desperately clung to him. He pushed the energy, moving it to his side as best he could. As he finally pushed himself parallel along it, he flung it aside; the column decimated the edge of the mountainside.

  Even though he felt Fe’rein burst from beneath the ocean, he did not move in time to keep from being struck in the face. The force was enough to topple the Original Creator end over end into the mountain.

  He felt the stinging sensation as the razor sharp corners of rock ate through the patchwork of defenses that was left after he had had his bell rung so completely. Fe’rein flashed forward, hovering just out of reach, thin red lines of blood trailed back from his eyes and nose.

  “You are still just a child. You have neither the skill nor the experience that I do, whether or not you have weathered centuries in the underworld,” rasped Fe’rein.

  E’Malkai opened one of his eyes and looked at t
he Dark Creator. “I have much more than you know. A coward such as you will no doubt have more tricks than me,” retorted E’Malkai as he wiggled his hand free of the rock and reached it out suddenly.

  A bright light flashed and Fe’rein covered his face, a shield of dark power immediately surrounding him as he floated back. As the Dark Creator opened his eyes, he saw nothing.

  The youth had teleported, the flash nothing more than a diversion to draw attention away from his flight. Spinning, Fe’rein felt the energy signature of the Original Creator and ducked low beneath the volley of emerald and white energies that soared past his head and collided into the seas below.

  Fe’rein sneered as he gave chase.

  Their endgame had begun.

  ⱷ

  Illigard

  Hours had passed since Fe’rein had ended M’iordi’s life and the two Creators had begun their dance of death that would end the power struggle for a time. The building was in ruins. Water trickled in through the mammoth hole that had been Fe’rein’s exit. The fire of Illigard had been quelled, men on both sides fighting to bring it under control. The war was indeed over, though what remained in the aftermath left something to be desired.

  Men on both sides faced the loss of kinsmen and family. Culouth was no more and there were no longer tribes in the north. Only the south now offered promise, the fertile plains and the harsh deserts that turned like the edge of a knife against the Sea of Torments.

  Arile stood with his arm pressed against the doorway, his lithe figure resting against the frame. There had not been a soldier of either side who had come to the building, nor did the white hunter believe that there would be.

  Elcites had moved enough that bandages could be wrapped tightly around his wound; the very same bandages that were used to wrap Leane as she slumbered in death.

  T’elen stirred, her unblinking eyes glazed.