Chapter 32
Xamaris looked at the two chargers as they struck down skeletons and Dun-Elves
with blade and war-staff. “It looks like the Chosen
are here.” He stated, before cocking an eyebrow. “But… only two?”
The mercenary looked at the two mounted combatants, then frowned. “She’s not
here…”
“They probably thought you were bluffing.” Kadlak said to Pison as he looked at
the two of them… “Hmmm… I swear I’ve seen that weapon before.”
The warlord rose a skeletal steed from the ground and readied himself to mount
it. “If that brat who’s wielding it is who I think he is… I’ll bury him
myself.”
The necro-alchemist looked at the risen warrior. “I don’t know what you’re
mumbling on about, but I’d love to dissect one of them.” He added. “I’d love to
see how the body of a Chosen reacts to a
blessing.”
“You’ll have the leftovers!” Kadlak shot back before charging out.
------
Around the Shrine, the battle had grown so fierce that the demons, smelling the
spilled blood, had broken formation and were lumbering to the source of the
chaos. Already, the tides were turning against the defenders as the swarm
launched itself into the fray.
“We’re completed outnumbered!” Yu Shaia shouted as he drove his blades into a
demon’s skull. “We kill one… there’s twenty more!”
Onyx drove his battle ax through the neck of a smaller demon. “And the more we
kill… the bigger the others are!” he wailed, dodging the wild swing of another,
ogre-sized abomination by a hair �" one on his arms, not from his beard.
Baratus attacked with all of berserker rage, but even with his war cries and
selfless assaults, he was beginning to tire. “I won’t rest… until those demons…
all… perish!” he spoke, though his words were spaced by a mix of harrowed
breaths and slashes from his war-sword.
“Now’s not the time to die a hero!” Korgan yelled out. “Remember the plan!”
The dwarf let out a gruff sigh as he grabbed the war horn he kept close �" a
gift from his grand-father �" and blew it.
--------
Karyana never felt such a surge of energy in her entire life. It felt as if
every pore of her skin was absorbing mana from the very air.
“What’s… what’s happening?” she spoke, though her voice didn’t sound like her
own, but as if Laurinya, Kaina and herself was speaking as one.
Selene removed her hand, which took a solid form from its ethereal shape inside
the black-haired woman, and looked at her. “You have inherited more than you
know of Lady Asuna.” The star-avatar explained. “Your star needed to be
kindled… and I have done so.”
“So much… power…” the young woman gasped as her eyes took on a starry-white
tone. “I can barely… keep it together…”
“Then use it… and save your friends.” The pale woman spoke before disappearing
in a shimmering spire of light.
Before Karyana could understand what Selene had said, she heard the scratching
sound of nails against stone, followed by a score of cackles. Turning around,
she saw them: living skeletons, flesh still holding fangs and bones together.
More than a score of them, climbing up the tower, grimacing as they held rusted
weapons in their teeth or cadaverous hands.
Though fear was starting to press against her heart, she felt something break
the tide. Some part of her refused to flee, and that part was growing stronger,
like an immense wall of stone pushing back a flash flood. “Stay back!” she
shouted, but before she could grab her sword, a dozen skeletal hands gripped at
her robes from behind.
Struggling against the macabre tide, Karyana felt the fear turn into
desperation, yet that moment of stress was pushing her to the limit. As the
skeletons raked her armor and robes asunder, she felt the swell of energy force
its way out.
“Enough!” she shouted, twisting herself out of the skeletal grasp and fired a
volley of magic missiles as quickly as she could think. The blasts wracked the
skeletons, but the magic had an effect that even she couldn’t anticipate:
silvery flames burst from their cadaverous bodies, burning flesh and bone.
Several were blown away from the outburst, while others flailed about like
scarecrows before crumbling to ash, the necromantic sorcery burned out of them.
The swell of energy continued to tide through as she felt her feet no longer
touch the ground, even as she showered the remaining skeletons with a barrage
of magical projectiles. Already, the braid on the side of her head had broken
apart, but as she finished the last cadaverous creature, a strange feeling
rubbed over her skin. Looking down, she noticed that the fragments of her
clothes had somehow shifted into an armored top, with the slightest feeling of
fabric below, while her forearms and legs were covered in arm guards and
greaves.
As her body lowered itself to the ground,
her star-white eyes regained its former blue, yet the taint was even more
mysterious as they seemed to glow with ethereal hues.
Before the young woman could grasp at what happened, the door flung open,
revealing a worried Allision. “Karyana, thank the Planars you’re... what are
you wearing?” she spoke, her tone turning from worried to confused by the poor
attire she sported. “You’ll die of frost bite if you-”
“There’s no time for that!” the black-haired woman retorted as she pointed down
at the battlefield. “If we don’t begin the incantation, we’ll never be able to
stop all those demons!”
The half-elf priestess looked down and was shocked to see the mass of
abominations trying to break apart the glyph-protected walls. “I… I see.” She
said before grabbing her backpack and pulling out a spare change of clothes.
“Hurry up and put these on. I’ll go tell Korgan we’re starting.”
Karyana let out a sigh as she put the skirt on as her red-haired raced
downstairs. As each of the garments was put on her frame, it changed from a
heavy cotton skirt and full-length robe into a gilded, armored belt on a
white-cloth pareo, her top clinging to the armor enough to show skin, but also
to cover it and part of her back. Even with the added warmth, she could still
feel the cold, until her boots began to discharge a slow manaweave as a faint
aura of heat surrounded her.
“Tch… I look like a dancer… and those clothes are far from warm...” she
commented as she noticed something else that was hidden inside the pile: a scroll.
------
Kadlak’s war-blades clashed against Alban’s great-sword as both fighters
wagered all their strengths in this one confrontation.
The gambit had partially paid off, as the attention of not one, but two of the
generals was not upon him and Demyan. In fact, Xamaris had starting a magical
duel against the young man, and both seemed equally matched. The ploy was not
to defeat them outright, but to give Karyana time to reach them.
Pison examined the duel with much curiosity. While not joining the battle, he
tried to weigh the power of both Chosen.
Though the ranger’s armor was covered with lesions and puncture marks where
Kadlak’s armor or weapon had struck, he held on with incredible resilience.
Looking at the other one, he noticed that the battle style used was… somewhat
familiar. He couldn’t quite put his clawed finger on it, but there was
something unsettling about how he was firing spell after spell, countering the
necro-alchemist’s incantations. Both had to use mana from the very air to
compensate for the rhythm of the battle, but neither seemed to show any signs
of giving ground to the other.
The only deciding factor of that battle was him. Yet, his orders were not to
interfere. The task was simply to find the Chosen
and see how much power they wielded. Looking at the two, it was clear that they
had been gifted by very important ones.
Kadlak sneered as he took a step back from Alban’s hard kick, which struck
against the chest-plate, between two rows of steel spikes. “For a runt, you
definitely know how to handle a blade.” He commented, shaking off the impact.
“Really? I was gonna say the same about you!” the ranger shot out before
slicing high, the attack striking the metallic protrusions as the warlord
blocked swung to the left to evade the strike.
“Don’t play dumb with me, you brat!” the skeletal warrior continued, both
blades clashing again. “I am Kadlak the Merciless, undying general and
destroyer!”
On the other side of the battlefield, Demyan had fired a branched both of
lighting which helix-ed around the blast of flames that Xamaris had launched.
Both spellcasters barely had time to raise mana-barriers before the spells
struck, the force knocking each down.
“I don’t see how a mana-weaver like you could ally with such a sour bunch.” The
young Magelord commented as he grabbed his war-staff, using it as a pole to
lift himself up off the ground.
“What’s a necromancer not to like?” the necro-alchemist commented. “The pay’s
in gold, I have all the undead I could possibly want, and as a bonus, I can
destroy any fool that gets in my way!”
Demyan shook his head. “Do you know the difference between you and me?” he
asked, not expecting an answer. “I’m much younger than you, and I’m not as
burdened as you are.”
The older mana-weaver knew the boy had a point. Although he was feeling that
his skeletal forces were being decimated, he still was using too much mana to
control the rest of the lobotomized forces and cadaverous militia to properly
fight. Had he been unburdened, he would have easily turned the boy into another
mindless puppet for him to play with.
Alban took a moment to think. Kadlak’s downfall was his pride, but playing that
card was not going to be easy. “For a war general, I’m positive you’re holding
back.”
The warlord cracked his knuckled before grabbing his sword, which the ranger
had knocked out of his hand. “And what if I was?” he retorted, showing bravado.
“I am undying! I could fight until time itself comes to an end… while you, your
time will end now!”
Alban smirked as the warlord took the bait. Taking a moment to retreat, he
rushed over to Demyan’s flank. “How’s it going on your end?” he asked the young
man.
“Getting a bit tired…” he answered. “You?”
“Likewise. How about we…” the ranger asked, pulling his right hand away from
his sword before flicking his wrist, turning his thumb and index in a
quarter-circle.
“Right… on three.” the young man began as he turned back to glare at Xamaris.
The necro-alchemist was readying another barrage of lightning bolts, and it was
becoming apparent that both he and the older wizard wanted to end this battle.
On Alban’s end, he just had time to discard his broken chain shirt before
tossing it at the warlord, who was not moving as quickly in his full-body steel
armor as he was. “One… two…”
“Three!” Demyan shouted as the necro-alchemist’s spell fired. Both he and Alban
threw themselves an in extremis barrel-roll as the spell smashed into Kadlak’s
armor, the massive shock paralyzing him.
“Uh oh…” was all Xamaris could say before Alban rose to face him, while Demyan
knelt in the snow, using his war-staff to slam against the back of the
warlord’s knees, forcing him to kneel.
The young Magelord looked at the numb warlord with contempt as he got up.
“History tends to repeat itself, doesn’t it…” he commented, less of a question
and more of a fact. “If I remember correctly, you died on Dyurth Pass
by the hands of Magelord Medai, almost a century ago… from this same spell.”
Kadlak could barely muster the strength to grab his weapon as the young man
began uttering the one spell that had ended him. “You’re… you can’t be! You’re
lying!”
Before Demyan started his incantation anew, he twirled his war-staff about and
slammed the bludgeon against the warlord’s head. “Eternal light, ever true and
undefiled, grant this wanton sinner before thee the majesty of thy judgment!”
Slamming the head of the staff against the warlord’s back, the spell channeled
from the weapon into the armor, the steel imploding from within as bones and
debris blasted out of the cadaverous general’s body, ripping the spine to
pieces as the rest of the skeleton flew apart.
Xamaris looked at the ranger who was charging his way. Having dodged the flame
pillars he had launched with cat-like grace, he knew that the next spell he
would cast would either save him or take the ranger’s life… but he knew to
value his own hide. Turning back to Pison, he grabbed his kris before drawing a
circle underneath his feet. “You’re on your own, now! I’ll see you next time!”
he said before the mana-scar opened under him, just as Alban was about to
decapitate the necro-alchemist. The wild swing took him a few seconds to
recover, just enough for the portal to vanish.
Pison looked at the two Chosen and slowly
clapped his hand as he walked over. “This is… a rather unfortunate chain of
events.” He remarked, sounding almost disappointed. “Here I was, expecting my
conditions to be met. Instead, you come here and defeat my lackeys… and she is
not even here.”
“What makes you say she wasn’t just watching from afar?” Alban asked, trying to
show bravado, even if he was showing signs of fatigue.
“I can smell blood.” He explained. “The art of sangromancy is not just
manipulating it… but knowing which is the purest and which is the blackest.
Your friend was never here to begin with.” Pulling out his whip, he pointed at
Demyan. “So tell me, boy… where is that brat who bested me?”
“You won’t be coming close to her… I swear on my life!” the young man shouted,
holding his staff defensively.
“Do not make commitments you cannot see through…” the mercenary commented. “I
know your battle tactics and incantations. It would take an army to save you.”
Demyan smirked as he pulled out a silver-plated horn and blew it. Seconds
later, the thundering sound of hooves on snow raced towards them, followed by
those of foot soldiers and spear-men advancing. “Will these suffice?”
-------
“I hope she knows what she’s doing…” Korgan thought as he readied himself.
“That spell could be too much for her to cast.”
Turalyon shook his head. “It looks to me like we have no other alternative.” He
commented. “Without Demyan, we have a smaller margin for error. Let’s make it
count… while the walls are still holding.”
Onyx scratched the back of his head. “I had the walls reinforced with my own
runes.” He remarked, not liking how little faith the battlemage had in him.
“They should hold on long enough for whatever your plan is to happen!”
Already, the incantation had to be cast by different spell-casters, which made
it more difficult to time. Korgan and Allision would cast the first spell,
while Turalyon and Karyana were to cast the second and third. That meant a
larger strain on the latter two, not counting the possibility of backfiring or
the spell running out of power to cast.
Already, Allision had told her friend that she would have to cast the very last
spell alone. Though the half-elf woman was worried about Karyana’s safety, she
had to focus on her own task, which made the half-elf less inclined to argue
when the black-haired woman told her that she would be fine.
Yu Shaia, Baratus and the rest of the soldiers were already fighting off the
demons outside, but the enemy numbers were still too much for them, so their
was little time left. “Let’s begin!” Korgan commanded before charging up the
stairs to his position.
The strategy had changed in position, but not in focus: rather than force the
horde to strike the north-east tower, they massed their troops in front of the
main gates and created a counter-blockade while the rest of the forces used
what resources they had left to force the demons away from the walls. The first
incantation would blanket the battlefield, while the second and third would
finish off any stragglers. The deal was to keep the enemies away from
establishing a full-force strike against the main door.
Allision looked on from the parapet, looking nervously at Turalyon. “I pray the
Planars will aid us…” she spoke, worried by the possible outcome.
“They already have. It’s time to show them what we can do.” Karyana replied as
she looked on, sword in hand.
The others simply nodded before the high priest and the red-haired priestess
began their incantation. "Primordial illumination, the fount of life for
all things, roar forth this once, and show us thy power!"
On the battle grounds, the first incantation brought a shower of streaming
light. Baratus looked up to the sky. “What is this… I’ve never seen such
mana-weaving before…”
Yu Shaia looked back at Baratus. “They started!” he shouted before grabbing an
elvish war-horn and blowing it, calling for retreat.
“Primordial force, fount of life and illumination, come forth and toll the end
of destruction!” Turalyon conjured, as an immense kaleidoscope of raw elemental
energy ripped out from the ground, catching the demons between the rain of
light and the blasted ground underneath. Already, the correlation between the
two spells was amplifying their effect, as the rain of pure energy poured down
like acid on the demons, while many were blown apart as the blasts multiplied.
Yu Shaia and Baratus escaped into the protection of the shrine’s fortified
walls as they watched the spells decimate the first wave of demons, which only
aggravated the anger of the other waves. “What kind of power is this?” Baratus
wondered, trying not to looked shocked by the immense force on display.
Karyana tried to steel her nerves at the desolation below as the words she had
to invoke began to escape her lips. "O comets whose brilliance lightens
even the most darkest of skies, favor this ground for the fulfillment of thy
eternal journey..." Those were the words she spoke, but the very words she
used were not the ones Turalyon’s scroll asked to cast… nor were they in any
tongue that they could understand.
As the final weave of the incantation ended, Karyana felt all of the power she
was given by the star-avatar escape her body, spent in the conjuration of the
coming events. Unable to keep herself from collapsing, she dropped to hands and
knees as the last of the power she unleashed �" and the knowledge of the spell
she cast �" vanished.
Everyone looked on in wonder and awe as the sky itself seemed to tremor, the
stars breaking from their dance in the sky to charge down onto the earth,
raining as fiercely as hail, but with power to shake the very foundations of
Medierth.
Yu Shaia tapped his hand against Baratus’ lower back. “The fury of the Planars,
friend… the fury of the Planars.”
The spectacle was as awe-inspiring as it was frightful: hundreds of demons
fleeing for their lives, only to be struck down by the colliding masses that fell
from the night sky. Already, the saintly rain had stopped and the pure
elemental force had died out, yet the meteors rained down until the grounds
were scarred by the blasts and heat.
“What does that make us?” the barbarian asked, as the last of the explosions
ripped snow and trees asunder.
Spotting a smaller group of panic-stricken demons, the elven ranger pulled out
his swords. “The mortal fools who take care of the trash…” he answered before
rushing outside, followed by Baratus and the rest of their forces.
-----
Pison was trapped. Even after taking out several of the fresh forces, he knew
that fighting was no longer an option. He could have killed them all, but that
was not what he was asked to do.
“So it seems the war is over.” He concluded. “I can smell the spilled blood of
demons through the stench of humans…”
Alban cocked an eyebrow. “What are you-” was all he could say before he heard a
myriad of deflagrations, as if someone was firing mortars.
Demyan turned around towards the Shrine, then watched as the air seemed ablaze
while tens of immense stones crashed below. “Astrean magic… how is that
possible?”
The demonic mercenary, though his hands had been shackled, weaved a mana-scar
into shape from the spilt blood from the mortally-wounded soldiers. “It seems
that the most powerful Chosen has just shown its true colors.” He said before
yanking off his chains, striking spears away from his body as he charged
towards the portal.
The ranger grabbed his great-sword and rushed after him. “Don’t let him get
away!” he shouted, but it was already too late, as the assassin disappeared in
the portal, which vanished afterwards. “Damn that-”
Demyan turned to look at the rugged man. “Now’s not the time for this. We have
to return to Citadel and tell them the war’s over.”
-----
Asuna looked down at the battlefield. “It was a dangerous ordeal… but I knew
you would be successful.” She said before turning away from the crystalline
surface of the pond.
Before she could turn around, a voice came from behind her. A growling, dark
voice… that of the Nightwatcher. “Lady Asuna… Lord Progeny demands to see you…”
The Alabaster Maiden knew that “demands” from the Childlord needed to be met…
and she knew what would come from them. She knew this well… because there was
no Selene.
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