Rise (War Witch Book 1)

by Cain S. Latrani

"Something that big, there's got to some sort of central control station," she replied. "How else would they fly the damn thing?"

  "She's got a point," Untar said. "I remember, about ten years ago, Rumilla Descartes managed to get inside one. She told me there's a command deck right at the top center of that castle."

  Chara sighed. "Her again. I ever meet her, she better be damned impressive."

  "She is," Untar assured her. "In her own way."

  "Right," the young woman nodded, looking to Shana. "Can you get me in there?"

  "Beloved, no," Esteban growled. "You can't do this. It's suicide! How many Demon Seed do you think are there? I won't let you!"

  Two more mystic cannons had begun firing, the heavy thudding as they belched fireballs at the citadel almost deafening. Chara shook her head slowly, wishing, just for once, he would have a little faith in her.

  "Look around you, Esteban," she said. "Look at what's happening. Lansing is being torn apart. If I can do something about that, then it's my duty, and my responsibility, to Heaven. Right?"

  The big Cat glanced about as cannon fire tore at the city, destroying homes, shops, and people. Slowly, he lowered his head, ears falling flat, and nodded.

  "Come back to me."

  Chara snorted. "Well, that's the plan, yeah."

  "The crazy plan," Untar nodded.

  "Totally insane," Leena grinned.

  "I like it," Shana said. "Let's do it."

  Nodding, Chara braced herself. She lifted both her mystic weapons as the Ascended stepped behind her, resting her hands on the young woman’s shoulders. She had time to take a deep breath, and wonder if maybe she really was.

  Toms pelted along the walkway for all he was worth, Rakin and Fallows close by him. Huffing and puffing, he berated himself for getting so out of shape. Really, it was his wife's fault. She was such a damn good cook, after all. He'd have to make mad, crazy love to her after this was over.

  "First one of those nutty ass things we get to," he panted. "I'm taking it. I don't think I could reach another."

  Rakin grinned at him. "You got it, Sarge. Try not to pass out before we get there, though."

  "Aw, screw you," he wheezed.

  He wasn't about to tell them he was on the brink of it now. They were juniors, and needed him to keep it together. Regardless, his heart was pounding so hard he could feel it, his lungs burned, and his vision was getting dim around the edges. He could see the cannon up ahead, and tried to pump his legs faster, desperate to get to it.

  Then the cannonballs started falling. Lansing erupted in fire.

  "Be safe, Karie," he whispered, visions of his wife floating through his head.

  "Sarge!" Rakin called, jerking on his arm and spinning him around until he thumped against the cannon. "Stop running. We're here."

  "Thank the Gods," he gasped.

  "Get in," she barked, shoving him into the chair. "You get how it works?"

  He fiddled with the runes a minute, then gave her a thumbs up. Nodding, she tagged Fallows and set off at a dead run. Trying to catch his breath, Toms watched them go for a moment. His chest was burning like fire as he swung the cannon around until it faced the citadel.

  "This is for making me run that far, assholes," he managed to get out, filling the air with fireballs.

  Rakin and Fallows hauled as hard as they could, trying to ignore how weary they already were as they pelted down the walkway, bound for the next cannon. Ahead of them, they spotted a half dozen Doppelgangers firing arrows at the street below.

  Several lay dead around them already, heads missing. Rakin didn't take time to wonder how that'd happened as she tightened her grip on her sword and nodded to Fallows. He returned the gesture, and slid behind her as they both moved to the center of the walkway.

  The Demon Seed didn't even hear them coming over the booming of the cannons from the citadel and thumping of the mystic ones on the castle. The two soldiers laid their backs open without ever breaking stride, leaving them to die slowly as they raced on.

  "You take the one coming up," Rakin ordered.

  "Got it, Sir," Fallows said.

  Swinging past the device, she glanced back to see him diving into the seat, bringing the cannon around quickly and filling the air with flames. Pouring on the speed, she raced for the last one. She just hoped the others could get to the mystic weapons in time to save the city.

  "Castel," Vernit snapped, pointing at the mystic cannon as they approached it on the other side of the castle from their fellows. "Take it and get it firing!"

  "On it, Sir," he replied, grabbing the rails to stop himself, and swinging into the seat quickly.

  The thudding of the mystic fire filled the air a moment later as she and Wells raced on. It was echoed by the cannons from the citadel, bombarding their city.

  "Gods damn them," Wells fumed.

  "Ignore it, soldier," Vernit barked. "Remember what the Lieutenant said. Today, the War Wolf howls out names with pride."

  "Yes, Sir," he said, but still, he couldn't help but feel anger boiling up as he watched his city being devastated.

  For Vernit, it was every bit as hard, but she shoved it down and focused on getting to the next weapon. These things, whatever they were, wherever they had come from, were the only chance they had. The damn Demons had a head start on them, but she was determined to even the score.

  "Now and then," she murmured. "You will find yourself called upon to act outside your typical chain of command. Through some disaster, or event of unexpected origin, you will have to band together in a unit comprised of people you don't know well, and still be able to act as an effective squad."

  Wells chuckled. "Here I thought he was blowing smoke."

  "Yeah, me too," she laughed. "Looks like the Lieutenant knows his stuff, though."

  Wells shook his head as they approached the next cannon. "I'm gonna owe him a drink after this."

  "Shit," Vernit called. "I'm gonna owe him a damn fuck!"

  Wells laughed at that as he slowed, swinging for the mystic weapon. "Give him an extra for me!"

  "Bring that damn thing down, and it's a deal," she called back, racing on alone.

  Somewhere on the wall, a member of her squad was running for the same cannon she was. It was a race, she told herself, to see who got to it first. She kept telling herself that as Lansing was rocked by explosions, fires burning wildly everywhere she looked.

  If she thought of it any other way, she would falter. The sheer enormity of what was happening was too much to handle. Narrowing her focus, she ran as hard as she could for the last cannon.

  Maret watched as Lansing was torn apart by cannon fire. He couldn't help but smile. Renfro was dead, or soon to be, and he was the only one left to claim the glory of capturing the largest city in the north east. With Lansing under the heel of the Demon Gods, they could take the entire continent, from Pirnot in the northwest, all the way to the Yestin Sea.

  It was a good day to be a Sky Commander.

  The citadel rocked suddenly as something struck it. The mystic energies that kept the massive floating fortress aloft were a delicate thing. They couldn't be misaligned too much, or they would topple. He had seen it happen before.

  "Report!" he snapped.

  "Uh, well, sir," the Orc at the observation station said tentatively, tired of giving all the bad news today. "It looks like the castle is returning fire."

  Maret blinked. "How is that possible? Show me!"

  The mystic image swung in front of him, showing the weapon belching fire, and then pulled back as two more joined it. Maret's face contorted in anger. Where in the Hells had these people gotten mystic cannons?

  "Order the gunnery crews to target those damn things!" he barked.

  "Sir, yes sir!" the Hob Goblin behind him yelped, swinging around to the pipes.

  Before he could give the word, the citadel bucked, pitching him forward and smashing his face against the communication tubes. Cursing, the Hob Goblin wiped blood off his face as his Co
mmander scowled in growing agitation.

  "I want those things destroyed," Maret snarled. "Now!"

  "Sir, two more have opened fire!" the Orc whimpered.

  "By all the Gods below," the Commander growled. "How hard is it to blow one stupid castle off the map?"

  Light shimmered two feet from him. Startled, he turned to find an Ascended of Grannax, and a human, holding something in her hands. "Who the Hells are you?" he roared.

  "Me?" Chara answered. "I'm just a farm girl."

  Maret had time to be startled before he was seared to ash.

  Chara spun, swinging her mystic handguns wide, spraying the command deck with fire as Shana hugged her back, delivering devastating bolts of divine energy. Demon Seed screamed and burned as runic equipment exploded, showering the command deck with energies as they escaped their confines, creating even more chaos.

  The citadel listed, sending Chara skidding across the platform the Commander had been standing on a moment ago. Shana snagged her, hauling her back as she gripped a railing.

  "It stinks in here," Chara quipped. "Let's bail."

  "You got it."

  They vanished in a swirl of light as the command deck began to explode.

  Rills shook his head in frustration as he watched the fireballs from the mystic cannons impact the citadel. If they could've started hitting it farther out, they may've stood a chance. As it was, by the time they managed to drop it, there wouldn't be enough of Lansing to spit on.

  Unless...

  "Hold your fire," he yelled to Ramora.

  Giving him an annoyed look, she raised an eyebrow.

  "I've got an idea," he told her. "But, we need to time it right."

  Looking doubtful, the Blessed nodded anyway, waving him on.

  "Okay, right, cool," Rills said, stepping back a bit, watching as the citadel spun on its center axis. "Lower your sights by six degrees."

  Ramora stared at him, irritated. How was she supposed to know how much that was?

  "Just, go down till I say stop," he told her.

  Shaking her head, she began easing the weapons down, tapping the rune gently, until Rills called her to a stop. Whatever he was doing, he better be right about it.

  "Okay, on my signal," he said, raising his hand.

  Ramora rested her thumb on the firing rune, watching him carefully. When his hand dropped, she hit the button, launching a single fireball at the massive structure.

  Rills watched it carefully, biting his lip. His math was right. He knew it was. It had to be. His math was always right.

  The fireball hit a cannon port, sending an explosion ripping through the lower half of the citadel as gunpowder ignited, setting off the cannonballs a scant few seconds later, making the entire citadel shudder.

  "Yes!" he whooped.

  Ramora nodded, giving him an impressed look. He caught himself as he spun and started to do a little victory dance, stopped, smoothed his jacket and threw her a thumbs up. Realizing he should've saluted, he jerked his hand up, almost poking himself in the eye, noticed he was using the wrong hand again, and switching quickly.

  Ramora sighed heavily.

  "Right. Okay. Good." Rills nodded to her, turning back to face the citadel. "Bring it up three taps, left four."

  Rolling her eyes, Ramora began to do as he said when the citadel listed to the side. Rills blinked a few times, pointing, uncertain what to do now. Shrugging, the Blessed opened fire again, sliding the cannon sideways to rake the lower half, hoping to hit another cannon port.

  The castle atop the flying cone of stone exploded upward in a massive flare of mystic energy, ribbons of blue, white, red, and green tearing into the sky. Secondary explosions ripped through the upper half, shattering stone, as slowly, the entire citadel was torn apart from the inside.

  "Whoa," Rills said. "That was not what I expected."

  Ramora stood up from the cannon as the flying citadel split apart and exploded, raining debris down on the docks as it groaned, falling from the air. Behind her, the mystic cannons fell silent as the Demon Seed war machine collapsed into the ocean.

  "Did we just win?" Rills asked as she started walking away, heading for the stairs. "I think we won. Right? That means we won, doesn't it? Ramora?"

  She waved to him as she reached the steps and started down.

  Yeah. They'd won.

  Chapter Forty-One

  UNTAR SAGGED while cheers rose up from the soldiers gathered around as the flying citadel ripped apart from the inside. Weary and wounded, the King started to sink to the ground, only to find himself caught by Esteban, who held him up. Nodding his thanks, he watched the massive structure collapse into the ocean.

  A few feet away, Chara slid her mystic weapons away, Shana grasping her shoulder. Leena took off her cracked glasses, unable to suppress her smile as the citadel fell apart. Somehow, they had done it.

  The docks shattered, ships were torn asunder as the thing fell, sending great waves crashing up, creating even more devastation. Everywhere they looked, buildings lay in ruin, fires burned, and citizens scrambled to put them out, or just wandered in a daze.

  The remaining Doppelgangers fled, melting into the crowd and disguising themselves as they sought escape. Untar frowned at that, knowing that somehow, they would have to be rooted out and dealt with. That was a problem for tomorrow, though. Today, they had survived.

  Healers from the temples arrived a few minutes later, attending to the injured as the City Guard fell into their training, organizing the civilians and directing them to places of sanctuary. Wizards and sorcerers from Kormack's Tower spread out, fighting the fires, and as the shock of the citadel's arrival faded, the city of Lansing pulled together.

  Neighbors helped one another, shops threw wide their doors, giving freely whatever was needed, soldiers dug through rubble to reach survivors, and mages lent their mystic abilities wherever they could.

  Up on the wall, Rills’ squad had gathered. Rakin and Vernit had reached the last cannon just as the citadel began to fall, but then left it to return and gather their comrades. The Lieutenant sat, the full weight of all that had happened finally settling over him, his tear-streaked face still somehow showing his pride in them. Toms had collected Ramora's sword, left lying beside the mystic cannon, a silent testament to her exhaustion. Together, they began the long march down, finding Izra as they went.

  Saddened to see another Blessed lost, Rills had reached out, meaning to close her eyes, only to have the Deep Elf jerk her head up. Badly wounded, she still lived, so Rills let her lean on him, and carried her out to find aid.

  Chara sat, a temple healer checking her shoulder and head injury, watching as people rushed about. She'd never felt so tired in her life. Every inch of her ached, her very soul seeming to beg for sleep.

  Through the crowd and smoke, she saw Ramora come through the castle gates. The warrior paused to look over the chaos before walking on, heading down the street and disappearing around a turn as Chara pushed herself to her feet, waving off the healer.

  Catching the eye of Leena, Untar, Esteban, and Shana, they all knew where she was going. They gathered in silence, trying to decide what to do, and if following was the right course, or if the Blessed should be given a moment alone.

  Rills’ squad exited the broken gates a few moments later, spotting Chara and the others turning to follow Ramora. Izra refused the healers, asking to go with them, getting a nod from Rills. Ragged, the squad moved in behind the others, walking down the street until they turned, passing Renfro's broken form without a thought.

  Ramora knelt, Leto's head pulled into her lap, her fingers stroking his face. For some time, no one moved, simply watching, bearing witness as she relived her greatest pain. She didn't scream, or even cry, instead she simply sat there, staring down at him in sadness.

  She'd turned twenty-three today.

  Finally, Chara forced herself to walk, her aching legs wobbly as she crossed the distance, what felt like miles, to kneel beside her. The warr
ior looked up, seeing her friend’s blood-stained and smudged face as behind the injuries, those wide, expressive hazel eyes mourned with her.

  Reaching out, Chara rested Ramora's head on her shoulder, and helped her grieve, so she wouldn't have to do it alone this time. No words were said. None were needed. Not between them.

  Shana joined them a moment later, kneeling on Ramora's other side, her grief welling up again. Her Blessed had fallen. The hole in her soul was too vast for words. She fell into the arm the warrior held out to her, crying enough for them both.

  Shrugging off Rills, Izra limped over, collapsing alongside Chara. She too found a shoulder as the young woman pulled her in, unable to imagine her pain. Watching them, knowing he couldn't be a part of the circle they shared, Rills sank down, sitting in the street as he mourned the passing of his hero. The squad he'd been given that morning, men and women he'd only known a few hours, joined him, paying their respects for the Blessed who’d died protecting them.

  Untar remained, leaning on Esteban, both men wanting to go to the women, and seeing they could not. For Untar, it was a matter of respect. They were warriors all, heroes who’d risked everything and lost much to save his city. He wouldn't intrude on that moment. He couldn't. He had no right.

  For Esteban, it was the realization that they were beyond his reach. Chara, his beloved, Ramora, his friend, and Izra, his ally, were miles outside his grasp. It was bittersweet, but he accepted it, knowing in that moment they always would be. He lived in their shadow.

  Leena watched it all, standing back from the rest. As a Silken Sister, she'd learned since childhood how to be detached, emotionless, and above the fray. It was needed, for when a Sister fell, one couldn't lose themselves to anger. The war rolled on, and she, like all of the Sisters, was a soldier in it.

  She would grieve, alone, in silence, when the time was right.

  The four women stayed there for some time, grieving the loss of a friend, a lover, a kind, noble soul, and a Blessed of Grannax. The world was darker, and as if the Emperor of Heaven himself shared their sorrow, it began to rain as the sun shone down on them.