Sword from the Sky

by R. Janvier del Valle

  “MY FATHER’S STILL IN THERE,” whispered Luca to himself. “There’s no way that I’m going to let him die alone.” He turned towards Vehru. “I’m breaking away; I’m going to the palace to face this darkness that’s come for us!”

  “No, you won’t,” Pabru said as he appeared next to Luca, holding him back.

  “Let go of me!” Luca said. “I’m not just going to let my father burn in flames!”

  “That’s not for you to decide, Luca,” Vehru said. “You’re still a Davinian. Your place is here with us, not at the palace. We must wait for Siel’s command. He’ll know what to do.”

  Vohro reached the crowd of Davinians standing near the windows, and he saw the rain of fire and dirt that had come upon the vulnerable palace. Using his bountiful eyes, he also noticed a massive amount of humanlike creatures scaling the palace walls, climbing from every angle imaginable.

  “Alta, the land is under siege!” Vohro said, turning to Siel. “The palace is overrun with vile creatures, it seems. They’ve brought fire and dirt with them, and they are shadowed!”

  Siel acknowledged his loyal servant and turned to the crowd, but not before hearing a crashing sound reverberating throughout the school.

  “SILENCE!” screamed Siel. The Alta focused on the sound, which had seemed to come from the entrance to the school. Siel closed his eyes, and his ears stretched outward like those of a dog whenever a distant sound attracts its attention. With each passing second, the sound became clearer to every Davinian in the room: it was a clashing of lances. The Gohrgos of the Golden Doors were in battle. War had come upon the Davinian School.

  Siel took both his hands and raised them to the air, giving his Davinians the sign of war. Without question, all of them obliged, dropping all that they carried: platters, pitchers, bowls, plates, and whatever other things they had in their hands. For a few seconds, all that was heard was the shrill sound of loud bangs and clangs from various objects hitting the ground.

  The Davinian Choir, who were third-blades above anything else, quickly jumped over the railing and down to the first level simultaneously. They landed squarely on their feet with little damage to themselves.

  Siel spread his arms to his side, instructing his students to go all blades, meaning to disrobe down to their vests. Every single Davinian complied in unison, as if practiced and infinitely rehearsed—all except for Luca, of course, for as an exile, he could not wield his blades—not that his wooden blades would have done him any good.

  “Stay close to me,” Vehru said, turning to Luca.

  “Mastro!” said one servantu. “The fog is consuming the land.”

  “Teacher!” said another one. “The fog brings a storm of dirt. It rolls in from all corners of the horizon!”

  “We must see our guests to safety!” cried Jeskun. “Davinians! Gather up the people of the land and take them to the passageway leading to the catacombs.”

  The guests, who were consumed with dread and uncertainty, were quickly gathered up and led to an opening on the floor near the rear of the hall, leading down a passageway towards the Davinian catacombs.

  “Prepare for battle!” Mastro Gehwen commanded, ordering all Davinians to draw back from the front of the hall and to stay in small groups for solidarity. “These unknown creatures have suddenly come upon us and have laid siege to our school. Treat them as you would treat any other vile thing of the night!”

  Following the mastro’s words, the hall shook as if thunder had come down and rattled the insides of the hall. The shaking was so violent that it caused some of the guests to fall on their backs and knees. Candles and lanterns fell and burst onto the floor, which forced the students to quickly act, extinguishing them before a threatening fire broke out. The hall grew dark.

  “Alta!” cried out one student. Siel had somehow fallen to his knees and now struggled to get up. It seemed that the last blow to the school had affected him in a physical way, as if a blow to the school was a blow to his body. Vohro raced to the Alta’s throne to help him up, and after a moment, Siel regained his composure.

  A fog began to creep into the hall from below the doors, seeping in from the cracks and open vents spaced around the room.

  “The fog, Alta!” Tamru said, spotting the gray smoke seeping in from the other side.

  “Don’t mind the fog, good lad,” Siel said. “The fog is the least of our problems. Let the fog be. It’s not the fog that’s our doom, but what it brings to us!”

  Vohro zigzagged among the mass of Davinians until he came to the large dining table in the middle of the hall. If there was to be a battle, then the table would be an obstacle, so he ordered his students to grab as much table as possible and move it to the rear of the hall in order to create some space near the front. A huge number of Davinians began with heave-hos until they moved the imposing table all the way to the end.

  Siel called for Mastro Jeskun. “Bring the novotals to me and the fallen jubahn. Quickly now.”

  “Yes, Alta,” Jeskun said. He made his way collecting the newly birthed, those who had not yet been ordained servantus and thus could not wield their Rasplendurs. They all came to see the Servantu Alta, all of them with eyes and ears of confusion and curiosity, especially Luca, who felt as if the Alta had made a mistake including him with everyone else.

  “Kneel,” Siel said, “including you, young exile.” And so they all knelt. Siel raised his hands. “By the authority given to me by our beloved Blademaker, by the great Mors of the sky, and by the endless truths that we know, I proclaim you fit to wield your Rasplendurs. Go now, young servantus, and show this evil the wrath of Davinian steel. Rise!” And all stood in front of their Alta, all new servantus, transformed and lively!

  Meanwhile, the Flowers of Heatheranla stood near a corner of the room, flipping through their blades, making sure they were clean and sharp.

  “I’ll go protect the exile,” Lereh said.

  “His name is Luca.”

  “I know that. You know what I mean.”

  “Why him?”

  “Why do you think we’re being ambushed?” Lereh said as she sheathed her blades. “They want him.”

  “Well, you go to him, but I’m staying behind. I’ll go wherever the fight takes me.”

  “As in towards Vehru?”

  “Be quiet!” Luleh said, punching her sister in the arm.

  “Good luck, then,” Lereh said. “Keep your wits about you.”

  The Flowers separated and lost themselves in the mass of students. Over by the windows, where Vehru still remained, Pabru grabbed his friend’s arm. “Don’t you think we should move away from the windows,” he said, pulling Vehru away towards the center of the hall, but not before bumping into Nefiru, who seemed calm as ever.

  Jené Jenóu, a dapper young servantu with sparkling emerald eyes, sporting an emerald-green mane, strode up to Nefiru. “You seem ready,” he said.

  “I’m in the mood for a fight,” Nefiru said triumphantly.

  “You never fail to amaze me with your arrogance,” Jené said, setting himself next to Nefiru. “I should stand by your side so as to keep an eye on you lest you get cut down by your blindness.”

  “Well, if it’s your wish to see me slay what is to come, then watch and learn,” Nefiru said, raising his blades to his chest.

  “All in good time,” Jené replied.

  Nefiru walked up to a small table near them. It was covered with pitchers of ale and water. He grabbed the table and turned it on its bottom, and everything came crashing down. He pushed the table towards the center of the room, where the swarm of students hovered, and he stood it on its legs once more. He jumped on top and cried out to everyone, “Here I can see clearly who is coming for me!” Then he turned to Jené. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re a madman,” Jené said, jumping on top of the table.

  Across the way, Luca had dispersed from Siel, finding his way back to his friends. “I’m going to make my way to the palace,” Luca sai
d with a serious look.

  “Have you lost your wits?” Vehru replied. “The palace is overtaken. And you wouldn’t last a second in the dirt storm that surrounds it.”

  “But I must get to my father!”

  “Even if you wanted to go, how would you get out?”

  “I can take the passageway that leads outside from the catacombs.”

  “Even so, you must defend the school and the High Servant. It’s your duty as a Davinian. You must act like one!”

  “You’re right, Vehru,” Luca said, defeated. “I’m just conflicted.”

  “I understand, Luca,” Vehru said compassionately. “Stay near me, okay? I’m sure your father’s all right.”

  “Stay close to me also,” Pabru said with a smile. “You might learn something.”

  Unexpectedly, there came a silence outside of the hall, as if the war outside the school had ceased to be, and all you could hear were the sniffles and coughs of the crowd waiting to thrust itself into battle. Nervous energy reigned.

  Siel returned to his throne and sat down. The Alta need not fight in such battles. He had already fought a lifetime of wars, and it was considered ill mannered for anyone or anything to force him to unsheathe his blades, so he waited with patience.

  When a few tense minutes had passed, there came a knocking at the door, as if one solitary person was leisurely wandering about the school, and in good measure, took their hand and knocked at the door as if to say, “Can I come in?”

  “Who’s going to open the door?” a voice rang out, and everyone in the hall broke out in laughter, and their spirits were lifted—but not for long.

  Seconds later, there was a loud slam on the door, as if that solitary person who had just knocked on the door had turned into a legion of warriors who carried with them the biggest battling ram known to man and had succeeded in breaking thunder against the formidable doors.

  And then a second slam on the doors, and the hall shook about as if it were being tossed and turned by a merciless giant.

  Alas, a final crash tore the doors asunder, and a legion of visreh spewed in like an overflowing dam releasing an endless stream of water.

  The visreh rushed in without any purpose except to exert their hatred for the innocent. To them, the Davinians were fresh meat, something they could sink their teeth in. The first solid wave of visreh dashed in and pummeled the front line of Davinians. For the most part, the visreh were struck down once they hit the Davinian wall, but for those that were left standing, the frenzy of arms and blades that followed the crash soon took them apart. The Davinians’ combat was like poetry birthed from splendor, with the many blades like pens, and they would write with the blood of their enemy long verses of harmony between blade and master, sonnets of valor and expert precision. Skillfully waving their arms, the students appeared like militant conductors of an operatic bloodbath, and they painted the walls with the notes of battle.

  But there were some Davinians that were doomed by fate to be the feast of many beasts. Hundreds of visreh ran in, and they outnumbered the Davinians ten to one, so it was inevitable that some would fall to the black teeth of the shadowed humans. The minute they broke into the hall, many visreh leaped onto the bountiful feast awaiting them, taking down many Davinians, feasting on their flesh.

  Luleh broke off from the rest of the group and kept her eye on her sister, who made her way towards Luca. But when Luleh turned her gaze away from her sister and to her front, she saw three hungry visreh coming her way. She sheathed her Rasplendur and quickly took out her twin blades.

  The three creatures approached her carefully and lunged towards her all at once. Luleh crossed her arms in such a way that her chest was forced to spring her arms out forward, as if it was using her own movement to catapult her swings, amplifying her slashing prowess. Her arms flung out, and her blades mercilessly tore apart two of the visreh’s necks, sending them to a lifetime of darkness.

  The third creature managed to slip by her blades, and it got behind Luleh and grabbed her by the hair, jerking her head in a forceful manner. This act angered her so much that she quickly snuck in one of her arms under the creature’s left armpit and immediately threw the creature on the floor. And before the creature had a chance to raise itself up to its feet, Luleh had already managed to begin a terrible full-body spin, and in the middle of that spin she grabbed her Eturita, and as the creature was just about to stand on its two feet, Luleh finished her hurricane spin.

  A damning blade came out of her spinning mass straight towards the visreh. Her Eturita struck the creature’s mouth with so much force that the visreh was thrown back no less than five feet, hitting the floor so hard that it broke into a mess of black sludge. Such was the force of the younger Flower of Heatheranla. Luleh retrieved her blade and advanced towards the next victim with a scowl that would have cut the most hardened of men.

  Further in the hall, Nefiru and Jené were on top of the wooden table they had set up for themselves. With each creature that came upon them, they cut through the visreh as if it was child’s play. The two warriors complimented each other, working as a team and looking over each other’s shoulder, making sure that all angles were secured. Not one visreh was allowed to jump on the table with them. Such was the speed in which they cut through the onslaught of creatures.

  “Don’t you even dare raise yourself up to us!” Nefiru said.

  One daring yet careless visreh tried to make its way up to them, but Jené managed to impale it with his Rasplendur before it touched the surface of the table. And using all of his might, Jené moved the creature towards Nefiru, who instantly took out his Shesta and carefully slashed the creature’s life out of it.

  “Off my table!” Jené shouted, throwing the dead carcass back into the mass of warriors, though by accident managing to hit a few of his Davinian compatriots. “Sorry about that!” he added.

  Near the rear of the hall was Pabru, who had broken off from his friends and had taken his newly earned Rasplendur to wreak havoc on the creatures laying siege to the school. Though Pabru had always been known to be somewhat of a crackup, it did not show in his combat, for he was a Davinian before anything else, and it was truly impressive how he dealt with the visreh. One cut was all it took; he made his blows count on each and every creature. He would cut to his right and left without setting his eyes on his enemies; his focus was impenetrable.

  That is, until a sly visreh crouched down and bit into Pabru’s right ankle, forcing him to fall to his knees and drop his Rasplendur. But Pabru reacted with speed, and found a big turkey leg lying on the floor next to him. He grabbed it and pummeled the visreh in the face as hard as he could. But as expected, it didn’t really bring it any harm, so he dropped the turkey leg and took the great, silver tray that was on the floor next to the leg and used that to smack the living snot out of the visreh, and because it was done with such force, the visreh’s head tore completely off and fell next to Pabru’s wounded leg. Pabru grabbed his Rasplendur and stabbed the visreh’s head with it, and he raised the head to himself and let it slide off his blade, until finally it was loose enough for him to kick it with his wounded leg.

  “Munch on this!” Pabru said, kicking the head straight across the room and almost into the hands of his friend.

  “Good grief!” cried Vehru. “I have to watch out for dead ones as well?” He kicked the head out of his way, and when he did so, two visreh ambushed him from the front. They came in with their claws and teeth, and as fast as they opened their mouths, Vehru took out the blades on his hip and launched them at the creatures’ heads.

  His blades struck perfectly. After those two visreh fell, five more came behind them. Vehru took out his Rasplendur, and once they reached him, Vehru performed the unthinkable. Starting with the left, with both hands on his Rasplendur, he cut the first one’s neck, and on to the second one, until he hit the fifth one on his right; he did this with one cut in a straight line and with great speed. The visreh were more surprised that
they had all been bested by one swing than from the fact that they were seconds from being dead.

  “That was a good swing, my friend,” yelled Luca, who stood a few feet behind him. And noticing more visreh heading towards them, he cried, “Look out!”

  Vehru turned around and took them on one by one as Luca retreated a few steps until he accidentally bumped into the large dining table at the rear of the hall. Instantly, Luca saw that a number of visreh had spotted him, and they broke off from the main pack, making their way towards the exile.

  With nothing to defend himself with, he quickly needed to find something to use as a weapon. He turned to the table and tried to break off a piece of it using his elbow, but alas, could not. He glanced back at the visreh and saw that they were almost on him. His blades were made out of wood, and thus flimsy. The strange sword he carried with him was crusted in dirt and not able to cut, thus useless. What could he do? Take them on using his bare hands? Not so, for he heard a cut of the wind to his left, ending with a large thump next to him.

  Siel’s golden Prossesur landed on the table. At first, Luca felt ashamed that he had forced the Alta to unsheathe one of his blades, but soon after, Siel gave him an approving smile, speaking to him as a gesture of mercy.

  Luca took the Prossesur in his hand, and it felt like pure power, amplifying his confidence. Without giving it more thought, he became transfigured into an unnatural warrior. Blinded by the guidance of the blade, his thoughts yielded to the present moment, and he let his learning and his mysterious abilities take the helm of his soul.

  Six visreh eventually reached Luca. They lunged at him one right after the other, as if they were attacking in a single file line. And Luca raised the golden Prossesur in the air, and without using his legs or torso, he stood like a statue, with only his arms flailing in all directions. Luca was finished with his cuts before the visreh had the chance to fall to the ground. The experience of his attack left Luca breathless, and it was enough time for a visreh to crawl up behind him, sneaking his way in for a kill. Unfortunately, Luca had no sense of this foul beast.

  There was one who did feel Luca in danger, and on the second level, she fought her way through the visreh as she progressed down the hall, intent on reaching the fallen exile. It seemed as if every other second a visreh would leap in front of her, but this did not intimidate the older Flower of Heatheranla. As a matter of fact, she was so fierce, that she took on the visreh with her smallest blade, her Enebran. 

  One visreh leaped in front of her, and she moved around the creature in order to use the creature’s own movement against it. Succeeding, she threw it down to the lower level without much effort. A second one came upon her, and she quickly crouched to cut both of its knees with one movement. The visreh fell to the ground, and before the visreh had even hit the floor, Lereh had already leapt, and came down hard on the visreh with her knees bent and legs in the air. Before the visreh’s head could crash onto the floor, her blade made forceful contact with its mass, and Lereh gave it that extra push to end the life of the vile creature as it hit the floor.

  Reaching Luca, she saw the visreh behind him coming in for the kill. With a leap of courage, Lereh dove onto the massive dining table down below. The sound of her landing broke Luca out of his spell, and he turned to her and saw that she had landed on top of a visreh that had been about to take his life. She had it pinned down with her foot.

  “I have a present for you,” Lereh said. “Would you do the honors? Oh, and make sure not to hit my foot.”

  Luca slashed at the creature’s neck with such precision that Lereh was truly impressed—and the fact that he kept his eyes on Lereh the whole time was even more impressive. “Thanks for that,” Luca said. “But I don’t need you here. Maybe Prince Nefiru might require your assistance.”

  “I didn’t ask for your permission,” rebutted Lereh. “Nefiru can handle himself. It’s you I’m worried about.” That comment did not help Luca’s irritability. “I think I’ll stay here just in case any more of them come up behind you,” Lereh said, situating herself next to Luca. “We wouldn’t want you to lose your other leg.” Lereh smiled. Luca didn’t.

  A number of feet away from Luca and Lereh was Vohro, standing next to Siel, making sure no harm came to him. If there was anyone in the hall able to dispense the visreh using the least amount of effort, it would be Vohro, and it showed, for in his hand was one of the twins, his Nunsurrum. And every time a visreh or a group of them came near the Alta, he would send them to their miserable deaths like he was swatting at flies, becoming increasingly tired of their nuisance.

  Siel sat next to him, and though his face showed a spirit fortified with a transcending power, inside of him, both spiritually and physically, the whole of his structure was caving in. The more the visreh lay siege to the school, the more harm came to Siel. And the wounds he felt inside were louder than the screams of the dying creatures. But he maintained his composure; the last thing he wanted was for his students to see his fragile state. And as he sat with his eyes on the battle, out of the blue, a noticeable amount of blood trickled down his nose. Quickly, Siel caught the stream with his finger and did his best to hide his pain.

  Once he cleared away the blood, he felt another uncomfortable being; it was something beyond imagining. Siel could feel things taking a horrid turn. He felt this unnatural presence linger about him, and the presence shifted towards Luca. Siel turned to Luca and saw that the exile was making his way towards one of the big windows that looked out towards the burning palace. Siel knew Luca had terrible thoughts about his father, and he also knew that a horrible unseen presence was also aware of Luca’s troubles.

  Luca walked up to the large window and stared into the vast openness of the land. The dirt storm and clouds were all-consuming, and he saw trees fighting for their very lives as they stood firm against the overpowering whirlpool of dirt that had accosted Loshendu Forest. The only thing he could see of the palace were the flames that penetrated the thick, dirt-laced fog. Luca began to wonder about his father.

  And it came, a voice lingering in his head. Luca, beastly boy, why aren’t you at your father’s side? Another voice rang in his ear. Failure to protect your father is something else you can add to your list of inadequacies! Luca, don’t you fear your father has been consumed by flames? Lastly, many voices in unison spoke to him. We are sovereign! Let your father burn! Come to us; we will be your new father.

  “No!” yelled Luca out into the open air. “Get away from me, filth!” He bent down on one knee and covered his ears.

  ***