Awake the Cullers (History of Ondar)

by Amanda Young

  She thought she must have lost consciousness, for when she woke it was to see the stone rubble lifted off of her by several sets of hands. Vision still blurry, she accepted one of the outstretched hands without thought and let herself be pulled to a standing position. Only then did she see the owner of the hand, Pielere, and realize he was unaffected from touching her. Confused, she pulled back her hand. It took powerful magic to resist the heat from direct contact with her skin. Even more confusing was why he helped her in the first place. The downward swing of an axe from one of the Cullers, now at the wall, distracted her from her questions. The axe, which was on a direct track to hit Maerishka, was stopped by Pielere’s sword.

  “Queen Maerishka,” Pielere said, continuing to fight back the man. “We respectfully request entrance to Suriax for ourselves and our citizens.”

  A blue plume of fire shot over his shoulder and killed the man he fought. “Granted.”

  If only it were that easy. Refugees crawled one at a time through a small break in the wall. It was a slow process. The rocks were hard and sharp, and a wrong move could cause everything to collapse. Soldiers from Suriax and Aleria helped lift the people through the hole. A couple of minutes, and they would all be through; if they survived that long. Of course, then there was the question of how safe the city was with Cullers already breaching the wall, taking advantage of similar cracks and breaks. But there was nothing she could do about that, now, except kill as many as she could before they had a chance to make it inside.

  Dropping down, Maerishka touched her hands to the ground and reached out, drying any hint of moisture she felt. She boiled it right out of the soil. Small pockets of air burst through the surface, creating puffs of dirt, unnoticed by the enemy. Once she was confident the ground was as dry and brittle as it could be, Maerishka used her connection to raise the heat, cracking the top of the ground. Following the cracks and empty tunnels of air in the ground, she fed in her fire. The ground cracked more, parts of it caving in. Flames sprung out of every crevice, burning legs and feet. As they fell their bodies came in contact with the ground, her ground. Each one burned as it was boiled from the inside.

  In a normal battle, such an atrocious attack would demoralize the remaining troops, but they barely spared a glance at their comrades who writhed in agony on the ground. Standing, Maerishka opted for a change in tactics. Taking stock of everyone on her side, she used a pile of rubble to spring above their heads and sent out a fire claw, a giant half circle of fire focused to an ultra hot blade’s edge. The claw travelled outward in a cone, gaining width as it moved. The heat generated by focusing the flames to such a thin line enabled it to easily cut through anything it touched. Several heads, torsos and legs fell to the ground for the next fifty feet. It didn’t kill all of them, but it did temporarily disable those it did not kill outright. And many of those who lived found themselves trampled by other Cullers moving to take their place.

  Beside her, Pielere and Eirae fended off attacks with deadly accuracy. They fought together, each completely aware of the other at all times. Their swords passed within inches of each other as they took turns hitting their shared opponents. For each Culler, Pielere would take a stab and swing around to hit another while Eirae hit the first man again. It was an interesting strategy that left their opponents unable to predict where the next hit would come from and decide who they should hit back.

  Behind them, Mirerien launched arrows at those further back, thinning out the masses of support to relieve some of the pressure on the front lines. Further still stood Lynnalin, Rand, Zanden and Casther, her Cinder team. Each of the fighters had Suriaxian fire surrounding their weapons: Casther his sword, Rand his hammer and Zanden his fists. Although Zanden was excellent with many weapons, his training and competitive fighting career led him to favor hand to hand combat. She was inclined to agree with his choice. He was the best.

  All three men followed a strategy of taking out one or two men then stepping aside to allow Lynnalin to use her more powerful spells to kill additional men. Once her magic subsided, they jumped right back in, fighting until she was ready to cast her next spell.

  That left three other fighters of note in this battle by the wall. One was a Suriaxian woman. The other two were former Flame Guardsmen. The woman called impressive walls of fire around the perimeter of the fighting. The two men fought with skill and precision, killing many men with a single strike to the head or heart. One of the men, her newly discovered half brother, did not appear to be at all hampered by his lack of the Suriaxian fire he so willingly gave up. As she watched, he slid his sword across an exposed throat, ripping out the man’s jugular and leaving him to bleed out on the ground at his feet. Kern looked around and called out a warning to Mirerien, his full sister. Dodging around the other fighters, he reached her just in time to take an axe hit meant for her. The weapon buried itself in his back, all the way to the wooden handle. Mirerien dropped her bow and held his limp body. The man who threw the axe was roasted by one of Lynnalin’s massive, magic enhanced fire balls.

  “The civilians are through,” someone yelled.

  “Everyone inside,” she heard another call. Raising a massive wall of flames to cover their exit, Maerishka retreated.

  Chapter 9

  Suriax was in chaos. Soldiers and guardsmen shot an endless array of arrows, magic and fire at the invading army. In some spots they were successful. A hundred feet to the west, the wall exploded into a pile of useless debris. Marcy looked for another boulder, as the source of the damage. Instead, she saw a giant fist pull back from the dust. Cullers flowed in through the opening. Many were picked off by the soldiers. Many others ran past, deeper into the city.

  Marcy continued running, led on by the steady pressure of Thomas’ hand on her arm. Without it, she did not know what she would do. Kern’s body hung lifeless over his brother Eirae’s shoulder. She did not know if he lived, but given the reaction from his sister Mirerien, it seemed unlikely. She was similarly led on by her brother Pielere. Rand guided their unlikely group to the marenpaie stables, flagging them all inside before securing the doors. The refugees continued on with the soldiers. It was now their job to lead the people to some place safer, farther from the battle.

  It was strangely quiet in the stables. The walls were thick and strong, made to stand up to the abuse of young Marenpaie still in training. Rand was the lead hound handler and trainer in the city. He knew this building and the hounds like no one else, making it a very good place to catch their bearings and develop a plan. And if the building was attacked, there were at least a couple dozen adolescent and adult hounds that would be good additions in a fight.

  Rand cleared a cot near the back of a small office, and Eirae laid Kern down. Mirerien began crying without preamble. If Marcy expected them to check him over, treat his injuries or try healing potions or spells, she was disappointed. They all simply stood around his body stoically, as though they knew he was gone.

  Marcy felt her own tears bubble up. She grabbed Thomas’ arm tighter and turned away, unable to look at the cot or the devastated monarchs any longer. Across the room the others availed themselves of bandages and salves from the emergency treatment supplies. Using the reflection from a well shined shield, Queen Maerishka tended a deep gash on her forehead. The lighting was poor, and her reflection was distorted, but there was no one else who could help her without burning themselves in the process. Her anger and lack of concentration made such a task particularly dangerous at this moment. Her heat was noticeable across the room.

  Rand climbed down from the roof access ladder and jumped to the floor. “The fires are spreading in the west,” he reported. “It looks like they are just south of Merchant’s Square.”

  Maerishka put down the salve and looked to her people. “Zanden, take your team to the Square. Coordinate our attack there. We must keep them from the docks until evacuations are complete. I need to get back to the palace and coordinate our defenses.”

  They were mostly
silent as Rand saddled the hounds and went back to the roof to check for the safest routes. Lynnalin used her last fire protection spell to protect Maerishka’s mount from being injured by the close contact. Splitting up into two groups, the royals heading east to the palace and everyone else going west, they left.

  They westward group rode in two person teams. Marcy, Lynnalin and Casther shot fire at the Cullers they passed. Thomas, Rand and Zanden focused on getting them to the front lines as quickly as possible. The Cullers found themselves repelled, not just by the soldiers and guards, but by the citizens as well. Suriax was unlike anything they had yet faced. That fact excited them to a frenzy. Some resorted to animalistic behavior, jumping on their prey and ripping limbs from their body. Smoke and dust filled the air. Buildings fell as giants over eight feet tall used their bodies as battering rams. And then there was the fire. Blue Suriaxian fire burned everywhere. The more powerful among them fought encircled in balls of flame. Hands, feet and weapons glowed. The ground was littered with an almost equal number on both sides.

  They made it to the Square and were immediately allowed to pass through the blockade. At the head of the resistance forces stood Sardon Barief, a former, undefeated champion from the Tournament of Fire, the most prestigious fighting tournament on the entire continent. Sardon was one of the most dangerous men in Suriax. The only possible exception was Zanden, the current champion from the Tournament. The two men conferred and started issuing commands, no hint of their former rivalry evident.

  Merchant’s Square, normally a peaceful area of commerce and the only regular interaction between citizens of the two cities, was now a war zone. Large walls surrounded the square, really not a square at all, but a small portion of land on either side of the river. Here alone, people could travel across the bridge freely without going through a guard tower. They only went through guard stations if they chose to exit or enter the Square.

  It was also the location of the main dock for both Aleria and Suriax. The Therion River was the way by which a great deal of trade entered their region. Many items were bought and sold right in the Square. Today, the docks served a very different purpose. By the river’s edge, frightened children were loaded onto boats and sent to what they hoped was safety. Looking at what they faced, it was difficult to believe any place could be safe again. Marcy tried to put that thought from her mind and focus on the attack orders being called out.

  In what felt to be counterintuitive, the soldiers positioned themselves outside the wall. Normally it would be foolish to give up the safety of a wall, but the invaders already proved walls were of little resistance to them. If the troops waited inside they would risk being crushed by falling stone as the walls were broken down around them. Taking their positions, they prepared for the next wave.

  * * *

  Candice ran with the other children toward the dock. Her horse, Sunshine, ran off afraid when the rocks began falling at the entrance of the cave. She missed the horse. It was the one thing she had left from her father. She only hoped Sunshine made it to safety, or that her death would be quick.

  The children cried as they waited. There were many people ahead of them, waiting to leave the city. From what she overheard, no one had expected the walls to be breached, so few people actually began evacuating prior to it happening. Only those who lived in close proximity to the southern wall took the precaution of waiting in northern portions of the city. Still, there weren’t as many scared citizens evacuating as she expected to see. Most people stayed to fight.

  The clash of swords and raised voices signaled the renewal of fighting at the Square wall. The children cried louder. How much longer would they be chased by monsters? People rushed the boats, some falling into the water in their haste. Others clogged the bridge to Aleria, hoping to find safety there. Candice scoffed at that idea. What led them to think Alerian walls were any stronger than Suriaxian walls? Both cities would fall, just like her home.

  Candice watched the fighting through the large metal gates of the Square. No longer frightened by what she saw, Candice looked at the faces of the attackers, angry, crazed, mutilated monsters that they were. They did not fear death or shy away from damaging blows. They fought for the love of fighting and seemed just as happy in dying as they were alive. This was the ultimate battle for them. Here stood an opponent worth fighting, not some farm town they could wipe out with little effort. This was a challenge, and they loved it.

  A face in the crowd caught her eye, and Candice gasped in shock. She thought the face belonged to her father, but that couldn’t be. He fought with the monsters. He was one of them. The crowd shifted and Candice lost sight of the man who could be her father. Without a thought, she ran toward the gate. No one stopped her. They were too busy trying to get away. She looked through the iron designs of the gate and tried to find him again. Beside her, the other gate was bashed in by the body of a soldier, tossed hard by one of the larger monsters. From the unusual bend in the soldier’s neck, she could tell it was too late for him. Crawling over his still warm body, she slipped out of the Square and moved behind the soldiers, looking for her father. Then she saw him, locked in battle with Thomas, the nice man who protected her on the journey here. Her father’s face contorted with emotions she never saw on it before. His clothes were bloody tatters. He fought, despite a broken bone protruding from his left arm. She hardly recognized the loving father she once knew.

  Thomas knocked the hammer from her father’s hands and moved to swing his sword with an arc that would likely kill her father instantly, and Candice screamed for him to stop. Much to her relief and horror, he did. In the moment he looked toward her, her father grabbed a sword from the ground and thrust it up and into Thomas’ chest. She heard Marcy scream as Thomas fell to the ground. The monster who was her father turned his head, drawn by the sound of Candice’s scream. His lips curled in a feral abomination of a grin. She felt the bile rise in her throat and nearly threw up. Then his eyes looked at her with curiosity and confusion, and she saw some hint of recognition. The tide of the fighting shifted, and the moment was lost, as he found himself pushed on to the next opponent. Candice called after him again, and would have followed, heedless of her own safety, if not for the grip of strong arms pulling her back. “Let go,” she commanded. “I have to help my father.”

  “I’m sorry, little one,” the man said, “but he isn’t your father anymore.”

  Candice struggled against his arms and words. His grip held tight, but in the struggling his cloak shifted, exposing his head. Candice screamed. Bone grew through his skin, covering his head and trailing down his shoulder. “You’re one of them, she cried.”

  “Not yet, but you will be,” another voice said. A man approached them.

  The man with the cloak and the bone growths drew his sword and pushed Candice back protectively. “I’d rather die,”

  “Your choice.” The new man closed his eyes briefly then opened them wide, all hint of humanity gone. Shadows of dust sprung up around him, taking his form until they created five exact replicas of the man. This man and his clones looked very similar to the first man. They each wore armor of bone that grew out of their own bodies, though the bone on the second man did not continue up to his head. Like the monsters, they had weapons within their arms, but these were organic, a part of their bodies, not forced into mutilated skin. In fact, these growths were almost beautiful. But the second man, with his clones, also wore new, grotesque additions that marred his once pristine form. Broken sword tips were shoved wherever there was flesh enough to hold them, along the protrusions of bone.

  The first man kept an eye on each clone, watching for where the attack would come from. Sparing a glance back, he pushed her away. “Do yourself a favor, girl. Get out of here while you can. Forget your father. Once anyone falls to this madness, they can not be saved,” he said with a sad tone of acceptance. “Go,” he pushed her again.

  Candice stumbled back and watched the man launch an attack at one of the clones. I
t disappeared on contact. That left five potential targets. Rock and wood fell down around her from a wheelbarrow thrown into the wall above her. Candice ducked and ran back down the line toward Marcy, struggling to drag Thomas to safety. Candice ran to his other side and ducked under his arm, taking what weight she could carry. The smell of blood was strong. She felt it wet her face, but she did not flinch. This was all her fault. She felt his weight fall suddenly on her and stumbled, struggling to remain on her feet. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. She did not think they would be able to carry him any further when a man came up and lifted Thomas over his shoulder. Calling for them to follow, he led them from the battle.

  * * *

  Traxton saw the girl led away and breathed a sigh of relief. Now, he could really focus on the fight. Normally he loved battle, but not this time. Martiene was his friend. They trained together for years, took oaths of pain together and fought together. Now, he must kill his friend. Unfortunately, the decision to kill him was much easier than actually accomplishing the task. Because of his Sublinate training, Martiene held on to enough of his memory and skills to anticipate Traxton’s attacks. His ability to switch between magic and fighting also made him very dangerous. Whenever Traxton got close, Martiene threw out another clone or changed the ground from stone to mud, anything to throw off his attack.

  Beside them, Cullers broke through the soldier blockade and rammed the gate. It rattled loose on its hinges, half of them already ripped loose from the stone wall. Traxton pulled a second sword from the dead hands of a soldier at his feet and swung both blades around in circles. Martiene’s eyes twinkled with excitement. With a single weapon, they were evenly matched. When Traxton picked up a second blade he was undefeated. Martiene salivated at the chance to take out Traxton at his best and prove himself to be the strongest fighter. Pulling his own sword, Martiene launched headlong into attack.