“Now report to your squadron leaders, and get ready to board the transports,” said Gabrielle, stepping forward. “I want everyone ready to move out in thirty minutes.”
As everyone departed, Leo stayed with Diandra. They stood together in silence for a minute, watching all the soldiers pass them by. Leo reached for Diandra’s hand, silently, and was shocked and ecstatic to have her accept it. They didn’t say a word, as they watched everyone preparing and getting ready for the assault. Leo only wished that Diandra was going with him. He knew that she would be needed on the front lines. Someone with her fighting and healing abilities would be invaluable during the main assault, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to accept. He knew that both of them were going to be placed in direct danger, and that they may never see each other again…he only wished that they could face that challenge together—side by side.
Suddenly, Zane ran around the corner and called to him, “Hey Leo! Kitso wants us in hanger three.”
“I’ll be right there,” Leo called back. Zane gave a nod, and left once again, leaving the speedster and the Egon alone. “Well I guess I should go, then,” he said, not moving a muscle.
“Ya, I should go too,” she said, turning to face him. He noticed that her eyes—her piercing and gorgeous blue eyes—were still as focused as ever. She had one goal on her mind, and nothing was going to change that.
Nothing.
Leo opened his arms, welcoming an embrace between them, and she accepted. They held each other tightly, not wanting to let the other go. Leo wanted to tell her more than anything how he felt. He wanted to blurt out I love you at the top of his lungs…but he knew that it was not the right time. He knew that her mind was focused, and he didn’t want to do anything that might wreck her determination. So, he remained satisfied with their tender hug. Holding her as tight as he could.
“You make sure that bastard pays,” said Diandra, as she let him go. She forced another smile before finally turning to walk away.
Leo fought every urge in his body. The desire to grab her and kiss her. The desire to leave this fight behind and run away with her. He didn’t want her to go. All he wanted was to hold her forever. Because he loved her.
As he fought his inner feelings, and his body’s impulses, he watched her walk away. He tried to push her out of his mind, with not much success. He walked towards hanger three, knowing that he couldn’t afford to obsess about her right now. He had to focus on the mission at hand, in order for them to win and survive. If he wanted to see Diandra again, and tell her how he felt—which he did. He would have to do everything in his power to make it happen. Even if he had to kill Grindaull himself.
_________________________
Once the troop transport stopped, Diandra filed out with the rest of the brotherhood soldiers. They were all directed to various areas where they were expected to line up in formation. The majority of the Brotherhood’s forces were out and lined up within minutes, while a select few set up command and medical tents along the tree line of the Royal Woods.
Diandra was suspiciously surprised by how easy their journey from the Hills of the Dead had been. Ravez had mentioned that he didn’t want a motor on his boat because the royals could track the energy source, but the army had made no attempt to ambush or attack the transports on their way to assault the capitol. It didn’t make sense strategically to Diandra, and she wondered what Grindaull’s plan was.
Despite her uncertainty in their current strategy, she would do her part to the best of her ability. If she could help the Brotherhood keep fighting for as long as possible, then she would give Leo and Zane more of a chance to take the king down. Her blood boiled when she thought about Grindaull—sitting in his throne, smug as hell, not feeling an ounce of regret for what he had done. Her people deserved more respect than that. She clenched her jaw tight and made fists that fell against her sides. If Zane failed, then she’d just have to end the king herself. As she looked towards the city of KL’en—it’s massive hundred-foot-high walls towering in the distance, all she could think about was how satisfying it would be to scale them, make her way to the palace and drain the energy out of Grindaull, until he had nothing left.
Suddenly, the soldiers around her began shifting nervously. She noticed that some were talking to one another in order to take their minds off the impending battle. She understood why they felt the need to do so—their odds of victory were slim at best. By their last estimates, the Royal Army had two thousand soldiers garrisoned in KL’en, while the Brotherhood had just under four hundred. Not to mention the fact that the royals had the protection of KL’en’s walls and the ELC cannons mounted on top of them. But unlike her comrades, Diandra didn’t feel the need to distract herself. She preferred to stay focused, with her mind on victory—that was how they were going to win. Not by forgetting the insurmountable odds, but by refusing to let them matter.
She looked ahead towards the front lines and saw Michael, Gabrielle and Raphael discussing amongst themselves. They were looking out towards the city, watching and waiting for something. Then Diandra saw it, or rather, she saw him—the shifter known as Coté had taken the form of a small dove and was flying from the direction of the city. The Brotherhood leaders were getting a scout report, she realized. She didn’t know how much the shifter’s report would help their situation, but she was satisfied to know that their commanders were taking necessary preparations, before sending their people on the offensive.
The Egon couldn’t hear anything from her location, but she watched with curiosity, as Coté transformed into his humanoid form and gave his report. The angelics listened intently, not looking happy, but not seeming defeated either. Diandra took that as a good enough sign. After a few minutes, Coté transformed and flew away again, leaving the angelics to exchange a few words before dispersing. Diandra assumed that they had formed a plan and were heading to their designated command positions, but she quickly realized that there was a little more involved. She noticed that Raphael was not moving directly towards a designated command zone. He zig-zagged through the different formations of soldiers, tapping a few troops on the shoulder as he passed. At first, it looked as though he was simply giving his troops words of encouragement, but then Diandra noticed that every soldier the angelic talked to left their position within seconds. Her eye followed a few of them, and she noticed that they were all gathering into a small group, away from the rest of the army.
Then before she realized it, she had lost sight of Raphael and didn’t know where he was—until his hand fell on her shoulder.
“Fallen…Er—I mean—Diandra…I have a special assignment for you. Please move to the far-west flank and join the other soldiers that are gathering there.”
“Do I get to know what this assignment is?” she asked, curiosity growing inside her.
“I don’t have time for your questions Fallen. Move to the west flank and wait for my orders.”
Diandra shook her head and laughed to herself as she moved towards Raphael’s group. Ever since she found out the Egons had been slaughtered by Grindaull, everyone was awkward around her. They would usually talk to her in soft, guarded tones, like you would to a child. Some, she noticed, wouldn’t even look at her, like they were ashamed of themselves for the grief in her life. She understood their behavior, and appreciated their compassion—but she still hated it. It made her feel weak and helpless. So, when Raphael came up to her and regarded her in the same rude and abrupt fashion he always had, the Egon could only laugh. A man like that was a true warrior. He didn’t have time to tip-toe around people to spare their feelings. He didn’t expect death and loss to be an issue because it was so common to him. She still had an issue with the angelic’s tact, but she respected him all the same, and she was honored to be chosen for his special mission.
When she joined the group, she saw that there weren’t many soldiers among them. She counted ten in total—five were human soldiers, wearing tactical armor, each carrying an ELC rifle. There w
ere two Drakes among the group, one was female with light brown scales and a few scars on her face. She carried two smaller bakons strapped to her back, and was laughing with the troops. The other drake was a man with beige scales, who carried a standard-sized bakon in his dominant hand. The last three members of the group looked like humans at first glance, but Diandra caught a glimpse of their yellow eyes and knew they were shifters. Out of the three shifters, two had made their default form men, and one took on the form of a human woman.
“I’ll bet any one of you losers 10 universal credits that I make it to the wall before you,” said the female drake to the group.
“Like I would ever bet against a Shaarikaan,” said the male drake with a dismissive wave.
“I’ll take you on, Droka!” said the female shifter walking up to the drake.
“That’s more like it!” exclaimed Droka with enthusiasm. She wrapped her arm around the shifter and laughed at the men surrounding them. “Looks like Feev and me are the only two with any balls in this group.”
Feev and Droka laughed, while the other men in the group chuckled and shook their heads in amusement.
As Diandra walked up, one of the humans noticed her and tapped her on the shoulder.
“You’re Diandra right?”
She turned and saw a thirty-something male soldier standing in front of her. He had dark hair and his face was covered in stubble.
She forced a smile. “Yes, and you are?”
“The names Ryan Black—demolitions expert. I heard you did a number to the Royals at Fort Koivisto.” Ryan spoke loud enough that the others were now looking towards them.
“I guess you could say that,” she replied, flatly.
“Oh, don’t be modest!” exclaimed Ryan, “They say you took on a hundred Royals while the speedster was searching for Zane.”
“That’s no small feat,” said Droka, coming up to Diandra and offering her hand. “A pleasure to meet you. I am Droka of clan Shaarikaan, one of the last Desert Drakes.”
“Nice to meet you, Droka,” said Diandra, modestly, accepting the drake’s hand. “I’m Diandra.
“I know what it’s like to be the last of my kind,” said Droka, with no tact or hesitation.
Diandra was a bit shocked by the drake’s lack of sensitivity—but she wasn’t offended. In fact, she appreciated it.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she replied.
“It’s in the past,” said Droka, with a shrug. “I don’t like to think of the past unless it’s to remember a glorious battle—speaking of which, tell us more about your fight in Koivisto!”
The other soldiers gathered around Diandra, all eager to hear her tale. She hesitated a second, looking around at the faces of soldiers who were giving her genuine respect. They didn’t pity her. They only saw her as another soldier, who had experienced victory and defeat. So, as she felt their energy, she genuinely smiled—something she hadn’t done since her moment alone in the woods with Leo.
“Well, first of all, the speedster you mentioned is named Leo Exe. You should remember his name,” Diandra smiled, thinking of her good friend. “And while he was looking for Zane—who apparently had his mind in a raven named Jynn at the time, the rest of us were fighting off the waves of Royal soldiers.”
“It must have been glorious!” said Droka, licking her lips. “You must be quite the warrior to take on so many.”
“Well, it wasn’t just me. Ravez and Jacob were there too…” she trailed off as she mentioned Jacob’s name. They all became silent as the memory of the heroic lieutenant became fresh in their minds.
“Don’t mourn the man.”
Everyone turned and saw Raphael standing tall, with Azrael behind him.
“Jacob Knight fought with honor and he died a hero. Mourning him does nothing. All we can do now is avenge him by fighting with as much courage and honor as he did.”
Diandra was speechless. She never expected Raphael to say something so meaningful. His words were inspiring…in their own way.
“Now if you’re all done being sobering idiots, we can get back to the battle at hand.” Raphael turned to Azrael, who began drawing a crude diagram of the city’s wall in the dirt. “I don’t have much time so I’ll make this quick. The Royals are well prepared for our attack. They have soldiers and manned ELC cannons all along the wall.”
Azrael drew an ‘X’ wherever there was an ELC cannon. Diandra counted thirty in total around the entire wall. The Brotherhood wouldn’t have to deal with most of the ones around the perimeter, but the main south facing wall had four well-armed cannons in the center tower, and two towers on the south-east and south-west corners, each armed with two of their own cannons.
“Their weakest spot is here on the west wall, right between these two towers.” Azrael circled the spot Raphael referred too. “They still have troops stationed here, but Coté assures us that it’s a minimal force compared to the rest of the wall. It’s our best chance to get any of our people through their defenses—So while Michael commands the main strike against the gate, we will be attacking the open spot. We will take our side and move along the wall, destroying the cannons and soldiers we pass along the way.”
“Permission to speak sir?” asked one of the male shifters.
“Granted Kleff, what’s your concern?”
“Well sir, I fail to see how the thirteen of us are going to be able to do all that…”
“We will do it Kleff, because we have to. If we fail, Michael, Gabrielle and the rest of our brothers and sisters will die, and I will not let that happen. Will you?”
“No sir,” mumbled everyone.
“I can’t hear you!”
“NO SIR!”
“Now, are there any more concerns?”
Silence. Win or lose, they were ready.
As Azrael wiped away his map in the dirt, they saw Michael flying above the Brotherhood army. He spoke loudly and with great confidence—reaching not just the Brotherhood soldiers’ ears, but their spirits and hearts.
“Brothers and sisters…I ask you to look around you today. Look at the people fighting beside you. They are your family. They are the bravest souls that you will ever meet. Why, you might ask…because they have all come together—risking death, to stand up for what is most important in this world...”
Michael paused, looking over all his soldiers, each one looking to him hanging on his every word.
“…Freedom!” he shouted.
The crowd cheered and applauded, and Diandra couldn’t help but join in. She spent her entire life told that she could only live in one place—told that her people had to live in fear of Grindaull and his army. She had broken those rules, and as a result, the king had sought retribution. But he did not use diplomacy. He did not use understanding or try to broker a new treaty. No. He used his power to exact a revenge so absolute that it resulted in genocide. Diandra wanted more than that. She left her village to help the planet gain more than that. She made a promise to her master that she was going to heal AzzaNation, and make sure that the next generation wouldn’t have to deal with the tyranny of Grindaull ever again. As Michael spoke, she felt every fiber of her being scream out in frustration at the pain she had endured, and then she cheered with the hope that they could put an end to it forever.
The rest of the Brotherhood shared similar sentiments because they all screamed and roared with excitement, until Michael finally put out his hands, asking his army for their attention once again.
“A hundred years ago, this planet was taken hostage. The life was drained out of it slowly by this mad king. This sadistic despot has slaughtered thousands and has made the ones who survived suffer horrible agony. There isn’t a person here, who has not endured everlasting pain at the hands of his regime…Together, we have done what we can to aid the people of AzzaNation, but I’m afraid that it is not enough. We have lived in the Dark Age for too long! Well I say that it’s time we brought AzzaNation back into the light!”
The Brotherhood gav
e more thunderous applause for their leader’s inspirational words. The sound was deafening—undoubtedly reaching the city’s walls. Diandra hoped that the royals were finally feeling the fear that they had caused in everyone else.
“A new dawn is rising on this planet today my brothers and sisters. The mad king will die—and WE shall be victorious!”
The crowd erupted. They were ready to fight, and they were ready to win.
Michael flew down in front of his army. He placed his hands out in front of him, and his eyes became covered in a purple haze as they flipped to his Fifth set of eyes. Then, purple and black smoke began to seep around the angelic’s whole body. Once he was engulfed in the haze, with a strong solid motion, he pushed out his arms and the smoke poured out of him. It moved towards the wall, spreading itself larger and larger. He dived lower to the ground, following his fog, and moving rapidly towards the main gate of KL’en.
“Rise, all those that are trapped, all who are wrongfully dead, for today you will have your revenge!”
The fog began to take on humanoid shapes—spirits of the dead forming their own army. Michael took command of them, and they rushed forward towards the wall with unnatural speed. Michael flew after them, leaving Gabrielle to command the Brotherhood’s forces. The Brotherhood soldiers watched her intently, waiting for her command to attack. She held her position, until every soldier was about to explode from anticipation, and then she waved her arm forward, commanding them to advance at once. The Brotherhood soldiers sprinted forward, screaming and firing their weapons at the soldiers atop the wall.
The spirits reached the wall before anyone. The royal soldiers fired on the specters but it was no use. The spirits quickly traversed the wall, killing anyone at the top who got in their way. The ELC cannons began firing with more success. Ten of the ghostly soldiers were disintegrated at once, as the heavy electronic blast struck them. Another cannon shot and more spirits disappeared. Michael saw this and decided to change his tactic, commanding the spirits to focus all at once on a single cannon. The ELC cannons kept up their barrage but enough of the spirits got through to kill the operator and destroy one of the four main cannons. The remaining ELC cannons nearby fired simultaneously at the spirits and dealt massive damage to Michael’s summoned army. Panicking, Michael quickly flew up to his remaining spirits. He started producing more fog in an attempt to raise more dead soldiers to his cause, but his efforts took too long and he was too distracted to dodge the cannon blast headed straight for him. He was hit—his wings contorted uncontrollably, and he fell towards the ground. Gabrielle was nearing him now and rushed towards her falling High Commander. She dodged a barrage of ELC blasts from royal soldiers firing their rifles, and grabbed him from the air before he hit the unforgiving ground. Once she had him safely secured in her arms, she flew back high into the air, dodging constant attacks and made her way towards the makeshift medical tents that were hugging the tree line.
The Chronicles of AzzaNation: Dawn of a New Age Page 24