Tempest of Bravoure: Kingdom Ascent

by Valena D'Angelis

  “You can’t even hold that bow,” Xandor yelled. “You’re weak. You’re trembling!”

  Ahna, forced to let go of the string, aimed it at the ground beneath her brother’s boots. The missile arrow burst at his feet in a loud blare. The blow threw Xandor into the air, who crashed further away, closer to his soldiers. When they spotted their King, they rushed to him, swords held high. As they were about to charge the archmage, they heard the warcry of the Resistance descending into the canyon.

  Dark clouds of a breeding hurricane amassed above the valley. The fires of light and gloom disrupted the air, and the winds carried the haze of storms. Thamias pushed his wings to rise above the clouds as the black, scaleless dragon followed him enraged. They slashed through the air, collided claws and talons enlaced.

  The soldiers in the valley looked to the sky. They saw the flashes of a battle of giants, like bolts of lightning breaching through the clouds. At an unexpected moment, the fiend hooked on Thamias’ neck and began a dive, dragging the golden dragon with it. The titans thrust through the clouds again and descended into the valley.

  In a dash of full force, the void dragon opened the sails of its torn wings and curved its tail forward. Its body straightened in the air as Thamias was launched to the ground. The dive became a toss, and the golden dragon crashed into the soil below the claws of the beast. The fiend then roared victoriously. It coiled its neck backwards, and the livid light of a funeral pyre gushed from its gut to the bottom of its jaw. From the heat of the fire, its scaleless pitch-black skin oozed on the valley floor. Thamias, in a vain attempt to defend himself from the upcoming blast, tried to push the abnormity away with his talons.

  But the fiend held him pinned to the mud.

  As its eyes ignited with the light of a black halo, it opened its maw and disgorged a hurl of undying flames. The Dragonborn’s skin burned under the inferno. He let out a loud and painful cry. When the fire burst dissipated, the void dragon shut its jaw and soared into the sky again.

  Thamias’ wings folded on themselves. The dim light of defeat pierced through his scales and once the shimmers faded, the small dokkalfar laid on the burned mud, his knees bent close to his chest. He shivered and bleated, like a man who had just stared Death in the eyes for much too long.

  The Resistance fighters clashed swords with Sharr’s soldiers in the valley. They fought heroically, perilously, like they had nothing left to lose. Diego fought side by side with his comrade, Captain Aquil, the wife of his commander. They moved to a harmonic cadence of swings and slashes, and they cut through the horde like a fury of blades.

  One of the rebel soldiers looked far ahead. The shattering roar of the dark fiend at the other side of the valley echoed within its walls. He then saw the void dragon rise. Before he could warn the rest of the company, the blade of Xandor Kun Sharr surprised him from the back, and tore out of his chest. The false king let the dead rebel fall to the ground and marched toward his next opponent, Commander David Falco.

  The two glared at each other in the center of the battlefield.

  “What kind of horror have you summoned, Commander?” Xandor asked with a thin smile.

  David showed his teeth. “We’re ready to fight to the death, Sharr,” he ferociously warned. “And we will take as many of you as we can!”

  “You’re outnumbered,” Xandor roared with a grin. “You have a pack of hopeless worms. I have an army!”

  David charged him. “This is for Joshua!” he shouted as he swung his blade at the false king.

  The two hacked back and forth as the clashes of their swords resounded in the valley. Xandor remained stern and unmoved by what David threw at him. The commander, exhausted from the hopeless battle, fell to his knees with one last slash. Xandor struck him again, and David parried desperately.

  “The Resistance dies with you,” the dokkalfar prince grimly declared.

  From behind the commander, Kairen saw Xandor raise his darkened blade one more time while her husband kneeled before him. She shouted. She pushed through the horde to get to them.

  The rapier swung. She raced with all she had. She pierced through the flesh of another soldier to save her husband. But when Xandor’s blade disappeared behind the mass of more soldiers, Kairen collapsed to the ground.

  She was pinned down by three or five dokkalfar silversteel swordsmen. They dragged her in the mud. One of them was about to strike her when the lion roar of a man-lynx warrior caught his attention. The sindur jumped the soldier, claws first, and shredded his face beyond recognition. As the other dark elves swarmed around him, Kairen stood back up.

  “Luk Ma!” she exhaled as her chest heaved.

  The man-lynx nodded, and Kairen turned back to run to David. She finally reached the duelling grounds when she saw Ahna. Her blade was brandished at Xandor, she stood between him and David. She had jumped to her husband’s rescue before Sharr could slice him.

  When Xandor rushed to take a strike at Ahna, the loud, ghastly screech pierced through the air above them. The shadow of the undying fiend passed over them toward the edge of the canyon. When Ahna realized what was to ensue, she signaled to Kairen.

  “Fallback!” the elf shouted. “Call the soldiers to retreat!” Her voice broke.

  As the scaleless dragon veered toward them, Kairen understood. She ran to David, helped him up, and raised her fist. She folded her arms toward her back, urgently and repeatedly, as a signal for the troops to withdraw. David joined her and called for his men. The rebel company began to tear itself away from the horde’s grip.

  Xandor shouted at his men in Dokkalfari. His silversteel soldiers rushed after the rebels toward the canyon.

  Ahna stretched her arms to her sides above the ground. She focused her power on the trampled mud of the valley floor, which began to detach itself. She raised her head to pull the flare of her magic from her fingertips to her center. With all the strength she had left, Ahna hauled a mass of dirt before her. The chunks of slush merged into a massive wave in front of her, and it surged beneath Sharr’s horde. It rose upwards and spiked out of the earth, creating a soil barrier between the rebels and the dokkalfar soldiers, blocking the way of the swarm.

  Ahna, weakened by this pulse of her last arcane force, collapsed to her knees. She looked up to the sky and saw the dark shadow of the fiend heading toward the rest of Sharr’s army. As she followed the bane with her eyes, she fell to her side and lost consciousness.

  The slow-motion horror screeched in the sky again before its throat began to blaze once more. As it glided over Sharr’s soldiers, it projected a long stream of purplish fire onto the crowd of souls who attempted to flee.

  The oozing liquid from its torn wings dripped onto the soldiers like acid rain that peeled off their armor and burned through their skin. Sharr’s soldiers fell one by one, either turned to cinders by the funeral pyre or molten into a boiled goo of flesh and bones.

  Those who tried to escape away from the valley were soon overtaken by the void dragon’s fire. Those who sought cover by the cliffs were crushed under the rockslides caused by the beast’s desolating roar. At the end of the valley, the fiend turned again and grazed the bottom with unholy fire.

  Only a few of Sharr’s men then remained, the rest had fallen and laid dead on the burned ground. The valley that had once been a flourishing, green veil of life had become a dark wasteland of ashes in a thick cloud of smoke. The unrecognizable carcasses of dead dokkalfar sprung from each side. The few soldiers left cried, yelled, and moaned in fear. Some, barely alive, crawled in the mud, their bodies split into different pieces, in a foolish attempt to find the rest of their limbs. In the distance, the unholy beast disappeared into the smoke.

  Ahna felt the scent of burned, rotten meat around her and opened her eyes. She had to swallow in, to prevent herself from succumbing to the retching odor. As she slowly rose to her feet, she picked up a stray sword and cast a glance over the scorched battlefield. The smoke so thick covered the valley. She could not see further
than the next carcass to her right.

  As she ambled aimlessly, a lost dokkalfar man passed her. He ran in terror away from the tumults of the battlefield. She accidentally stepped on the torn arm of a dead silversteel soldier. The crack of the bone startled someone up ahead.

  She made her way to where the tents had stood and looked around her.

  Desolation.

  The entire valley had been set ablaze. All that was left were corpses aflame and a slow rain of ashes. Among the debris of what had once been a golden chariot, Ahna saw the dead bodies of Xandor’s guards. And there, by the center of the encampment destroyed, she saw the figure of the Dark Lord, severely wounded, who panted on the valley floor.

  When he saw her, he gasped for air. He rolled onto his knees and crawled miserably toward her. “Meriel, please...” he moaned. “Forgive me.”

  As he latched onto her boot, she kicked him away ruthlessly, as if he were a stray dog who begged for meat. Xandor looked around him and began to laugh awkwardly, almost uncontrollably.

  “I really wonder,” he coughed. “I really wonder where you got that horror to help your cause.” Ahna remained silent and glared at him. He continued to cough and address her at the same time. “What kind of deal did you make, and with whom?” he shouted. He laughed again as she stepped closer to him. “If you consort with the dead, then you’re no better than I am, sister!” he scowled.

  “It’s over, Xandor,” she declared with a resolute, yet almost soothing voice. “Call off what’s left of your men, and we can end this peacefully,” she almost beseeched him. She gazed upon the Despot, a man of countless atrocities, but deep down, he was still her brother, and she wished to end this without more fight.

  Xandor scoffed.

  He struggled to rise to his feet as he stared her down. “You know as well as I how this ends, sister,” he said as he shook his head. “Peace is not an option anymore.” He then grinned with his dark, amber eyes. “But you can’t bring yourself to do it.” He looked at the blade in her hand. “Rejoice that your pathetic prophecy was right after all! But look at how much it cost you!” he exclaimed in a howl.

  As they heard the footsteps of rebel soldiers up the valley, Xandor’s amber eyes turned to this dark, crimson color.

  “You’re right,” Ahna began as she dropped her sword. “As much as I want you dead, I can’t bring myself to kill you. I can’t kill you.”

  The false king looked ahead, to the band of rebels that marched toward them from behind the smoke. He saw his near fate before his eyes, he could almost grasp it. He was about to die at the unworthy hands of the Resistance. The rebel scourge that had tormented for half a century.

  The dokkalfar Prince of Mal would not have it. He refused to bow.

  From the back of his belt, he seized a small, sharp rhodium object, and clenched it within his fist. He took a long deep breath, cast one last look at his dear sister and uttered his final words.

  “But I can.”

  He quickly brought the needle to his neck and slit his own throat.

  Ahna screamed.

  The false king collapsed to the floor. The warm pool of blood flowed on the grey, scorched ground. She ran to her brother and fell to her knees by his side. As he maintained her gaze into hers, she supported his head with her hand. He coughed some blood that splattered against her black leathers. The rattles turned into a soft gurgling sound, and as she held her brother’s hand, Xandor sighed, and his head dropped to the side. Ahna gasped when her brother’s life slipped away.

  She stayed a moment beside him, quiet, as the victorious rebels in the distance were coming closer to her. She looked at her brother’s face, scarred by the evil that had overtaken him long ago. In a motherlike caress, she gently closed his eyes, and she murmured, in the silence, a soft prayer.

  “May the light guide you and protect you. May you find your way through the river of stars. May the Divine Justice have mercy on you, and may you find peace and absolution for the torments you’ve caused and the wounds that ached your soul. Hvíldu í fridth, brother.”

  Up ahead in the thick smoke of the scorched valley, Kairen noticed an ambling figure. She called to it. The shadow emitted a soft and longing yowl.

  She rejoiced, it was Luk Ma!

  She rushed to him and wrapped her arms around the man-lynx. He had to protect his shoulder wound from her newfound enthusiasm.

  Behind her marched David, victorious, in search of his companions. He saw Diego help Lynn get back up to his left. To his right, a band of glorious swordsmen and women embraced each other. As he marched down the valley, he saw the corpses of Sharr’s dead army. But he also saw the bodies of many brave heroes who had perished in battle.

  As he strolled toward a fallen soldier, he recognized Captain Senris, the leader of the Fae. Around the vidthralfar ranger, the survivors of the Antlers mourned him. David went to the body of his old friend and honored him with a hand to his chest.

  Lynn walked past many of the wounded soldiers, whom the less wounded rebels hasted to tend to. When they approached what was left of the encampment, the Taz woman spotted another rebel in the distance.

  “Jules!” she shouted as she ran toward him.

  By an act of divine chance, Jules had been spared from the fires of the beast. He sped toward Lynn and Diego and embraced them. He then motioned for the rest to follow him, and he led them to the dead body of Xandor Kun Sharr. The vanquished dokkalfar prince laid sprawled out on the ground, with a puddle of dried blood around his neck. Clenched in his cold hand was a small ornate needle covered in red.

  David examined the lifeless body of the false king they had fought for half a century and pondered on what his death meant for the fifty-year-old movement. Survivor dokkalfar soldiers had begun to surrender to the rebels. They kneeled with their hands behind their heads, as the few Resistance fighters left came to restrain them.

  David rose to his feet again. He turned around. Behind him were but two dozen rebels who carried swords and looked to him. Some of them had wounds, yet they could still stand. They expectantly looked at the commander. Kairen, who noticed David’s hesitation, came to him and clasped his hand in hers.

  “We won,” she declared with a smile.

  David nodded and turned to his men. With a triumphant warcry, he raised his hand in his wife’s to the sky, as a joint fist of victory. The rebels followed with their weapons brandished in the air.

  Ahna walked further down the valley, where the golden dragon had last been seen descending from the sky. The cloud of smoke slowly dissipated into the air. She strolled down, calling Thamias, looking for him, hoping he was still alive. Suddenly, she spotted a frail and shivering blue elf further ahead. She ran toward him. Thamias laid on the untouched grass, recovering from his battle wounds. She called his name. She fell next to him and held him in her arms. She held him so close to her. She pressed him with all her strength against her chest.

  “Thamias, you’re alive, you’re free!” she exclaimed as she placed her hands on his face.

  Her little brother smiled. Tears were in his amber eyes from the emotions of their reunion. As they stayed there for a long moment, enlaced, only the calm breeze of spring whistling through the grass could be heard. The clouds in the sky grew thinner, and the rays of the sun immersed the valley in radiance again.

  The Resistance had won. Xandor was defeated, and Ahna was reunited with Thamias, at last.

  Behind her, she heard the voice of Kairen speak to her, “Ahna...” the red-haired woman called. “Ahna, we won.”

  The archmage rose to her feet and ran to her dearest friend. The two embraced, and Jules and Diego and Lynn joined them. A few more rebels hugged each other. David remained serene and looked to Thamias. The young dokkalfar stood up and greeted the commander.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said as he bowed. “You can call me Sonny.” An innocent smile gleamed on his face.

  David honored him with a military salute. “It’s a great honor, Dr
agonborn.”

  Thamias chuckled awkwardly. His bent pointy ears reddened with a blush. He had just been set free after half a century. The idea of people praising his name had not even passed through his mind, ever once.

  “David,” Ahna interrupted. “This is my brother.”

  Kairen raised an eyebrow. Something she did not know about Ahna. The Dragonborn of the legends was her brother! The young dokkalfar waved at the band of rebels. David then marched to him and invited him to shake hands. When Thamias accepted the invitation, David rested his other hand on the Dragonborn’s shoulder.

  “If you’re family of Ahna’s, then you are our family too,” Commander David Falco welcomed him.

  Behind Ahna, a dark veil sank silently onto the bottom of the valley. The rebels looked to it, startled, fearful of what would come next.

  But the shadows had begun to fade, and in its place, a tall man in black shrike’s leathers stood. He marched calmly toward Ahna as she looked to him in turn. She opened her mouth in surprise.

  Cedric…

  When the marksman got close to her, she gazed upon him with sincere regret in her eyes. “Cedric...” she murmured. “You...” She was lost for words.

  Cedric smiled at her, but something was wrong. His eyes no longer had the cerulean light that used to shine. His skin was pale, almost livid, and what struck her at heart was that his beat no more. Yet he came close to her and dived into her gaze. His presence bore some kind of warmth she could still feel.

  “You came,” she finally said, her voice broken by the tears she hid behind her eyes.

  He noticed her distress and gently brought his hand to her cheek. His cold touch made her realize what this man had lost. She wanted to kneel and apologise. To beg for forgiveness. But his honest smile kept her there, with the darkness of his stare into her purple eyes.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, Ahna,” he began with the most tender voice. “None of this is your fault, so don’t blame yourself.”

  “I should have known!” she interrupted him.