The Keys to Ascension

by Dilland Doe

  The Actians stood on each side of the foes, where the giant’s hammer had flung them. Finio could feel they all lived. Still having enhanced endurance and speed, they jogged around to where their allies had stopped.

  Kericles shouted, “Form up! Form up! Victory is at hand.”

  Another leader, the same who was the last to agree to the alliance, shook his head. “And face that giant again? No! Ten of my men are laying on the battlefield, probably dead. I won’t lose another. We can’t beat them.”

  Thrusting a hammer into the air, Kericles shouted, “Then my men will do it alone! All who are not cowards, join me!”

  Finio flooded the entire army with endurance and speed. Kericles and the Actians charged the full army of the enemy. About half the allies roared for battle and charged. After a few seconds, the others joined in and attacked behind the Actian vanguard.

  The enemy formed, prepared for the charge.

  Can the wizard create the giant again? Does that much power not exhaust him?

  The energy blasted forth again. The same man grew four times the size, then sprinted ahead of his army toward the charging Actians. The wizard couple’s army charged behind their giant.

  Kwitty yelled, “Finio, hit him!”

  Closing his eyes, Finio saw the swirling new magic Kwitty sent him. He imagined the giant growing even larger, he willed it to happened, then he growled in determination as he opened his eyes.

  The giant stopped running. He shook the entire field with his cry. His armor groaned as his body grew but the estra-armor didn’t grow with it. The straps snapped. The armor on his torso flew off, but the helmet remained on. The giant grabbed for it, trying to pull it off, but he couldn’t. The massive new size of his head had to go somewhere. The strength of estra could not be broken. The man’s head guts smushed out the bottom of the helm and through the eye slit.

  His yells of pain ended, then he collapsed to the ground. Cheer rang from the surrounding allies as Finio let go of his growth power. The giant shrunk to the size of a man before the allies blasted into the enemy line. Foe after foe fell.

  Oh, The Divinity. The mage! Finio glanced at the male mage. He lay unconscious.

  Kwitty laughed. “He tried to grow the armor as fast as you grew the head, but he was at the max of his power. He is more powerful than you, but it takes much more energy to grow metal compared to flesh. Ha ha!”

  Finio smiled in disbelief while the other half of his brain maintained a zen to keep the magic flowing to his allies. The woman ran to her husband. Half of her army, moving without enhanced speed, already lay injured or dead, unable to stop powerful and quick blows. She reached into her robe and pulled out a white flag. She wove it, screaming, “Stooop! Stoooooop! We yield!”

  Her remaining forces threw down their weapons. The allies froze mid-attack, then lifted their arms with yells of victory and glory.

  Ch. 42

  Finio watched the sorceress move from fallen man to fallen man, healing those who lived. She had already formally yielded to Kericles, who said her and her men could leave the territory with their weapons. She knelt by each injured man, paying no attention to whose side he was on. A white light would shine from her hand as she waved it over them. Then, the warrior would move again…if he was alive. If not, she’d frowned in agony and moved on.

  The power to heal…

  The husband survived, but still lay in the spot where he fell. This must be how I looked when I used Kwitty to slow rather than quicken.

  During the formal yield, she told Kericles the true extent of their territory. It was vast. Kericles and the other Citians sang songs of victory and glory. Pride even swelled Finio’s chest. He never thought they’d come to the Torn Lands and conquer so much. But guilt also hung in his mind. The woman didn’t shed a tear, but Finio could see the devastation in her face.

  Finio approached her. “Hello, I’m Finio.”

  She focused on an unmoving hunk of armor, white light shining from a hand. The man remained still. It looked like her face would drown in her frown.

  “I’m sorry for the death,” Finio said. “They say it’s an acceptable risk for glory.”

  She stood, took a few steps, then knelt by the next man. As she hovered her magic light over the body, she said, “We weren’t here for glory. We came for a pure society. Puredom we called it. Ha.” A smile flashed and disappeared on her face.

  “I don’t understand the quest for glory either. I’m originally from Hyzantria.”

  Her face blinked in surprise. “You speak Tonguelin without accent.” The warrior below her moaned and shifted. She stood and moved to the next.

  Following her, Finio said, “Thanks. I’m curious, what do you mean pure? Like, you worship The Divinity?”

  She laughed. “You are Hyzantrian.” Light emanated from her hand. “Puredom sought to live free from excess, not under the authority of a make-believe power.”

  Finio didn’t flinch at the insult to The Divinity. Such comments were common place among Citians. “Free from excess…like not too much sex and drink?”

  She nodded as her hand waved over her patient. “But more than that. We are Citian. Our people’s greatest excess isn’t the base pleasures. We don’t exaggerate the solace of the bedroom or the amusement of the drink. We embellish the high of victory and glory. Our goals shouldn’t be personal or group glory, but the betterment of all.”

  “Heh. My dad used to say something like that.”

  The warrior on his back rolled over to his side, then started to stand. She stood with him. “Thank you, miss. Thank you.” It was one from Kericles’s group.

  She nodded toward him, then moved to the next man.

  “I want to heal one day,” Finio said. “Your high being is amazing.”

  She focused on her next patient. “Lrrinsha is a powerful and compassionate high being. He only works with those who labor to better humankind. I tried to do that with Puredom, but I failed…”

  “I don’t know how well I’m doing that now, but I am the son of a Hyzantrian viscount and adopted son of a Citian king. Maybe one day I can help.”

  The man she leaned over remained still. She shook her head and stood, then put two fingers in her mouth and whistled sharply.

  A tiny, furry fox with huge ears perked over its head jogged toward them. The woman went on to the next man.

  The fox jumped up and down around her. With one hand she hovered light over a man, and with the other she scratched the minute creature’s head. It looked so soft.

  It has such a tiny little face. Finio desired to pet it, but he feared it would run away.

  A voice came from it. “I will work with this boy if he truly believes he can help people one day. If he was ever to gain power, maybe we could make a pure society.”

  Finio breathed in deep. “I can’t promise a pure society, but I can promise a better one. I’ve always believed my actions should be for the good of all.”

  The man she healed moaned, then stared up at her. “I live, Deanna? I live?”

  She smiled and nodded. “You live.”

  He reached up to touch her head with his green gauntleted hand.

  She scowled, “What are the rules about touching my hair?”

  His hand froze. “Oh yeah. Thank you.”

  She moved onto the next man, with the fox and Finio in tow.

  “I’d love to learn healing.”

  “You and your band are rich now. I’ll expect you to pay for ritual materials. And for the animal. I can give you a trained fennec fox like this. They are fast, can hear you from far away, and will hide during battle.”

  Finio jumped in the air. “And are adorable!”

  #

  Finio waited outside the tent for the male wizard to finish the ritual. The wizard couple had given him tons of tips on how to use Lrrinsha. He had successfully produced the healing light, but hadn’t actually found a sick or injured person to practice on.

  Kericles yelled something from behind. He
stumbled forward with a full glass of wine, some spilling and dripping down his hand. “Cousiiiiiiin! We’re kings of the Torn Lands! Ah haaaa!”

  “The Torn Lands are huge,” Finio said, “We just control a small area of coast and a bunch of inland towns.”

  Putting his arm on Finio and leaning into him, Kericles said, “Kings! Kings of the Torn Lands!”

  Finio shook his head. “You’ve been drunk for a week.” He laughed.

  “We’ve trained in the mornings! You a healer yet?”

  “No. I—”

  The male wizard came out of the tent, wearing red robes and carrying a super cute little fennec fox. Its bushy tail hung toward the ground. “This one seemed to like you the best. Keep practicing with him so he doesn’t abandon you.”

  Finio looked down. So many things can go wrong. He gently took the creature. It looked at him with huge open ears. Each one seemed like it could swallow the creature’s head. It released a light, high-pitched noise.

  The wizard then held out a whistle on a rope. “This one’s attuned to the fox. As long as he still likes you, the whistle should call him. Sometimes blow it just to play with and feed him so he continues to associate it with love.”

  “This sounds a lot easier than a chinchilla. Heh heh.” Finio took the whistle and hanged it around his neck. “I still haven’t healed anyone. Can you help me?”

  The man gave a sad grin, casting his eyes away before again focusing on Finio. “Sorry boy, but we must go with our warriors. We’ll start again. I knew it was foolish to build our territory so close to the sea. Too many adventurers to contend with. We’ll find an area deep inland and restart. Hopefully young punk upstarts like you and Kericles don’t take everything away from us again.”

  The wizard’s smile didn’t reduce Finio’s guilt. “Sorry.”

  The defeated magician went back into the tent. Finio turned to talk to Kericles, but he had already wandered back toward a group of partying warriors.

  Finio gently tossed the fox on the ground. It looked up at him with its tiny face and made a little noise. “Don’t worry, Finio.” Lrrinsha said, “We’ll figure it out.” The fox ran off.

  Finio tucked the whistle under his shirt.

  A few minutes later, he said bye to the wizard couple as they left. He sighed as he thought of all in his life. It was awesome to know some magic. What would his family say if they knew he defeated great wizards with a band of Citians? Ha! His life was so adventurous now, but he’d give it all up to make his family whole again. He sighed, comforted by the fact that he would have a few days of rest before Kericles’s party ended.

  From behind a large home, the unintelligible singing of a few warriors rang into the air. One sounded like his cousin. Finio strolled around to see them. The Citians swayed back and forth, spilling wine and ale all over. A local townswoman in a cute dress held a tray of mugs and glasses. She watched patiently.

  Finio smiled. I’ll never really understand how these Torn Lands people put up with us. Finio took a glass of wine and sipped. He contorted his face at its strength. “Mam, do you got any sweet stuff?”

  “We do, but none was bought.”

  Kericles yelled, “Anything for my cousin! Go get him some!”

  She nodded and turned to leave when the running of a single horse grew in the distance. It galloped hard. Kericles staggered in front of Finio to see. One of the scouts sped toward the town.

  Kericles yelled, “Yeah! Maybe he’ll bring more glorious battle!” He threw a hand in the air. The men cheered. Others in different parts of the town heard the outburst and shouted in victory.”

  The horseman halted in front of them. “The coasts have been taken. The villages are slaughtered. I—”

  Keircles stepped forward. “Slaughtered!? That’s against the rules! Who in glory’s name!?”

  “It’s people from across the sea. The ice god worshipers!”

  “Rwhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! They won’t expand their territory on my watch!” The prince turned his head as he spoke. “Pack up! Pack up! We leave for the coast!”

  Others relayed the message and the little town burst into activity of men packing and squires gathering armor.

  The scout stared at Kericles. “But sir, you’re drunk.”

  He grinned as he pointed at the scout, wobbling. “I know. We’ll march through a few lands, then sleep. When we find this foreign army, we’ll slaughter every last one of them. Now, get a fresh horse and get back to scouting.”

  “Yes sir.” He trotted toward the stables.

  Kericles leaned against Finio, who grunted at the weight.

  “Cousin,” the prince said, “have you ever been in real battle?”

  Finio whispered, “No.”

  Kericles chuckled. “Neither have I.”

  Ch. 43

  Kericles and his Citian allies formed a broad line, marching toward a burning village. The squires and servants stayed behind at the last town they traveled through. Standing on a hill, Finio set down his pot, then infused the Citians with speed and endurance.

  Bald men as white as snow gathered in front of the village. They wore torn shorts and nothing else.

  Uuuuuh, they have no chance against estra armor…

  They yelled and hollered in scratchy voices like they replaced their vocal boxes with that of the undead. Then, the white men turned and ran.

  Kericles shook his fists. “Cowards!”

  The white barbarians disappeared into the burning village while the green estra armored warriors chased after them. From his vantage point, Finio saw the men flee out the back side. Finio picked up his pot-backpack and threw it on before dashing down the hill after his allies.

  He caught them easily because the warriors stopped their chase and scanned the destruction while standing in a misshapen line. Finio held his breath as the stench of death and burnt flesh hit his nostrils. Two toddler bodies lay next to a woman’s corpse. All with limbs chopped off and their guts ripped out. Finio forgot to breathe as he sucked in the horror.

  He then found Kericles. “Let’s chase those rats back to the sea.”

  The prince didn’t respond. His eyes stared at corpses.

  One of the older Citian leaders from another city-state approached. “Young pups, this is what real war looks like. Soak it in. And fear it. For real war goes beyond glory on the battlefield, and into the destruction of societies.”

  Finio shook his head. “Why would the ice men even do this?”

  “Why do barbarians do anything?” the man said, “Maybe they were bored. Maybe they were hungry. What I know is this: we gotta kill every last one of those cowards.”

  Kericles’s head snapped upward. “Forward. We march!” He thrust a hammer upward.

  They moved in front of the village, reformed their line, and marched. Finio followed behind.

  The ice men had disappeared over a small hill. Marching over it, the anticipation of vengeance oozed off every Citian. These were the Citians’ Torn Lands, and its people were not to be messed with. Once on the hill, they saw the small group of white men running toward a much, much larger group. The entire army of pale, shirtless men jogged east.

  “Cowards!” someone yelled.

  The Citians followed for an hour before the white-men reached the sea. They strode toward a grouping of boats guarded by a few of them.

  A tinge of nervousness shot through Finio. The enemy couldn’t run anymore. There would be battle. And these guys would fight to the death.

  Hurriedly, the barbarians entered the boats with axes or swords, but returned with thin spears. They looked designed to stab through an estra visor.

  Is their aim really that good?

  Off one boat marched a group of men carrying bows and arrows. They didn’t have the pure, unrealistically white skin of the other ice men. Then, they reached into barrels and threw powder on themselves, becoming white ghosts.

  The enemy swiftly lined up with a throng of spearmen in the front, and the group of archers in the
back. They vastly outnumbered the Citians. Finio sensed no mages. He’d hate to see those spears enhanced with precision.

  Kericles led his men to form up parallel to the beach, trapping the enemy between the sea. The line of green estra armored men, with mist rising above them, stood still as they awaited the coming fight. Kericles yelled, “For Citiaaaaaaa!”

  They charged. The weight of their running estra sounded like a stampede of giants. The ice men screamed in their foreign tongue, then charged. Their horde stretched far past the line of estra men on both sides.

  A few volleys of arrows rained upon the Citians. They instinctively held an armored hand over their visor to protect themselves. Arrows bounced off the plate. Then, the Citian armor and weapons crashed through bare white skin.

  With the Citians’ enhanced speed, the first wave of ice men collapsed from the charge itself. Men flew through the air and into the ground, killed or injured by the impact of speeding oncoming armor. The white-powdered army stabbed their spears toward visors, which resulted in a dink, or sometimes just a swoosh of air before a charging Citian bashed into them or cut them open. The ground flowed with ice men blood.

  The wings of the barbarians closed in on the Citians from both sides. The enemy’s center fell back to the surf before turning and holding their ground. Unable to charge into the sea in fear of drowning, the unstoppable Citian charge ended, and they stood and fought on three sides.

  The white-men fell in droves. Half their forces already lay dead. Archers tried shooting directly into visors before heavy hammers smashed in their skulls. Fino’s magic flowing through them, Citians dodged and blocked incoming arrows with inhuman speed.

  Finio gasped as a spear luckily slid into a visor. The ice man let go of the weapon, and with a spear sticking out of his helm, the hulking man in armor collapsed to the ground.

  A raspy yell sounded from the enemy and they attacked with new vigor. Their bald, white heads shook left and right as they evaded strikes and attacked like some kind of bizarre demons.