by Jeff Gunzel
Their arrogance and lack of preparation had been their undoing. Superior numbers alone were not enough to win a battle, a lesson learned too late. The rebel crytons came sweeping through from the back side, cutting them down like weeds. The rout was on.
Cutting her way through the chaos, Shantis emerged from the front line and kept on running. Not unlike Jade, she had no intention of waiting for the main forces to catch up. This battle was all but won, but that wasn’t good enough. She would have her revenge, and even the gods themselves could not deny her of this.
She sprinted onward towards the palace, murder blazing in her eyes...
* * *
Red-spotted hand and knee prints smeared the floor. A trail of smeared blood led across the palace hall and down a flight of steps. Inch by inch Berkeni made his way, by will alone refusing to die just yet, refusing to succumb to the grave wound that would surely take his life within the hour. By the light that guides me. In the name of the true queen of Taron. Only a little farther. One last task to complete and I may sleep for eternity.
Panicked crytons largely ignored the dying man, leaping right over him as he inched along. Word of the breach had already reached their ears, making the wounded human of little concern. Down a final flight of old wooden steps he crawled, inching towards his final destination. There was one final way he might still be of aid to his queen before leaving this world.
He inched towards the energy prison that housed the two red monsters. Sickles in hand, they gazed down at the familiar human crawling towards them. Using the last of his strength, the old man reached up, glittering energy crackling in his palm.
“For centuries the guardians of the palace have served the rightful queen of our time,” he said, voice fading as was his waning strength. “I release you from this prison. Go now and unleash hell upon our enemies.”
He slammed his palm against the glowing wall. Energy crackled up the walls of the cube, creating white cracks as it spidered along like electrified snakes. For an instant, the cracks hummed with a high pitch, glowing brightly like the stars. The energy cube shattered, thousands of shards spraying around the room.
Sickles raised, the red monsters roared. Their beastly howls shook the floor, echoing up through the palace. Driven by the need to protect their queen, they raced up the steps in a fit of rage.
Head raised slightly off the floor, Berkeni watched them go. Weak as a kitten and cold from loss of blood, he still managed a smile. “I’ve done all I can,” he whispered. “Jade, I now leave this city in your capable hands. Eric, show the world that your power has no limits. My journey ends here.” His head sank back to the floor.
* * *
Filista made her way against the flow of oncoming soldiers. “Cowards!” she shrieked, lashing out as they ran by, trying to direct them back the other way. “Crytons are dying yet you flee like gutless rodents! You are needed at the front wall. Go now or I’ll kill you myse—” She stopped in her tracks, eyes staring in disbelief. “No,” she said breathlessly, slowly backing away. “No, it can’t be!”
Ahead, the giant red twins were cutting their way towards her. Arrows and blades alike bounced off their glistening red armor, not leaving so much as a scratch. Sickles blurred with impossible speed, sometimes taking more than one life with each sweeping slash. She watched as one of her soldiers bravely charged, slashing high at one of the beasts. The creature caught the blade in his hand as if it were a toy, snapping it in half with a flick of his wrist.
Throwing the blade aside, the red beast grabbed the cryton by the throat and lifted him off the ground like a child. The struggle was short-lived, kicking legs going limp after a single squeeze of his throat. Throwing the lifeless bag of flesh aside, the beast continued his methodical death march, killing anything that came too close.
Filista joined the retreat, stumbling back the other way as she pushed through her own fleeing men. Deciding to separate from this mob that was no doubt going to be slaughtered once those red things caught up with them, she darted down a side hall lined with stained glass windows.
She stopped, breathing hard with her hands resting on her knees. She winced with every bloodcurdling scream, the unmistakable sounds of death assaulting her ears. “How did it come to this?” she whimpered, nearly on the verge of tears. “Everything was planned out perfectly. Have I really underestimated the humans so badly? Is their resolve really this strong?” She glanced about, trying to decide on an escape route. “I must get out of here. I need to regroup and live to fight another day.”
She stood up straight and began running, determined to escape and start over again. Surely she could regroup even after this little setback. There were still crytons who had still not committed one way or the other. She would sway them and return to this forsaken city with a wild vengeance. These insolent worms would pay for this revolt. “They’ll crawl on their bellies like the insects they truly are. They’ll—”
The stained glass window exploded before her, thick shards spraying around the hall. “It can’t be,” she whispered, backing away in disbelief. “No! How did you—”
Shantis glared up at her, shards of broken glass glistening in her hair. She bled from multiple cuts but seemed not to notice. “Yes, I am here, traitor,” she hissed, slowly rising to her feet. She stalked forward, bow in hand with an arrow notched.
“Wait! Just wait,” Filista pleaded, still backing away with her hands raised. Terror griped her, wrapping her heart in ice. She never dreamed they would ever meet again. “I am the queen. I...I can give you riches.”
“You are not the queen,” Shantis growled, each step bringer her closer to the thing she desired above all else.
“I...I...I am your priestess!” she shrieked, hands waving about desperately. She found herself backed up against the wall, fleeing crytons running past her. “You must obey me.”
“You are nothing,” Shantis whispered, letting loose her arrow. It slammed into Filista’s raised hand, pinning it against the wall. She screamed, blood trickling down her forearm. A second arrow pierced her other hand, pinning it up on the other side. Arrow after arrow slammed into her body, each strategically placed so as not to kill. Her shoulders, arms, and legs all looked like pincushions as she stood braced against the wall, blood pooling around her feet.
The red giants stalked right past her, not even sparing a glance for the one who once held them captive. They knew her fate was sealed, and their mission to kill everything in sight was not yet completed. They stormed off, headed for the streets to finish what they started.
Shantis approached, her blank expression cool like ice. She shouldered her bow and got face to face with Filista. Barely conscious but alive, her shallow breaths came in harsh rasps. Shock setting in, her eyes rolled lazily towards Shantis. “Please. I am not to blame,” she mumbled, a stream of blood trickling down from her mouth.
“Even now you deny the consequences of your actions,” Shantis growled, gripping her neck with one hand. “And that is why you were never capable of being a leader. You blame those around you for all you’ve done wrong, yet try to take credit for the things you have not. You represent everything that’s wrong in this world. I would die for any of my men, and to this day I still take full responsibility for the shortcomings of our clan. That is what it means to be a leader.”
She began to squeeze, blood running down between her fingers as Filista’s eyes bulged. “But I admit, I am not completely incorruptible,” she said, smiling as she gazed into the eyes of the traitor that nearly cost her everything. “I too can be petty and small, driven by greed when I want something badly enough.” Her fingers broke through flesh, wrapping around Filista’s windpipe. She tore it free in a spray of gore, then threw down her handful of wet meat and bone. A greedy promise I made to myself, now kept in full. At last, revenge is mine. Sleep for eternity, you motherless traitor.
* * *
The walking storm of destruction continued as Jade marched, the rest of the army lagging beh
ind and killing any hiding stragglers. Even the Watchdogs had gotten clear of this supernatural fury, vacating the main road and mopping up the alleys and side streets. Burning blades zipped down the street, shredding anything in their path. Bolts of energy still rained down from the sky, their crashing impacts heard throughout the city. Not a single arrow was being launched her direction, not that they would have landed anyhow. In pure survival mode, the crytons had given up on mounting any sort of offense.
From the other direction, more crytons charged in her direction. The fools were struck down instantly, their bodies shredded by spinning blades. Charging at her? No, running, fleeing from some unseen danger coming from the other way. Seconds later, the red giants came into view, slashing and tearing flesh with their enormous sickles. Killing anything that moved, they were heading right for her at a full charge.
Jade halted her march of death, stopping in her tracks and lowering her arms. The blazing glow of her dy-chita died down, the light in her eyes fading. Calls from behind urged her to run, to get out of the way of these storming creatures. But she stood her ground, displaying no aggression, nor any intent to retreat.
Another running cryton died in front of her, a sickle cleaving its midsection in half. Still, she stood her ground. Upon her now, both sickles rose high, hanging up over her head. They stayed there, frozen in that position for what seemed like an eternity. Not blinking, she gazed up at their faceless screened heads, waiting.
As if shadows of one another, somehow sharing the same thoughts at the same time, the red monsters spun their sickles in the air twice before dropping down to the ground before her. Heads low, sickles laid on the ground beside them, they kneeled before their queen. The true queen of Taron.
Jade gazed down at them, blood and gore scattered all around them. A hand lay gently on her shoulder, and she glanced back. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” said Addel, a tear running down her cheek. “This is not a mistake. They kneel down before their queen, as do I...” Addel backed off a step, then dropped down to one knee, eyes to the ground.
Jade looked back in disbelief as others followed suit, all dropping down to one knee. Crytons, humans, all sharing the same pose scattered throughout the street. In her heart, she had always known that Ilirra was her mother, a truth she knew on some level, but was always afraid to accept. Avoiding her true destiny was no longer an option. The Guardian had served her purpose, but that journey had run its course. It was time to be who she was truly born to be.
A new era had begun...
Chapter 12
“Get up!” came a sharp voice moments before Eric’s cot turned on its side. When he hit the floor and rolled over, it wasn’t Yammon who towered over him, but one of the other monks he had seen many times before. “Yammon wants you back out there right now.” Reading Eric’s confused expression, the large monk with oversized ears and a double chin continued. “Yammon’s fed up. He doesn’t even want to look at you anymore, you miserable weakling! That’s why he sent me to drag you out this time, just so he wouldn’t have to see your face!”
The harsh words stung Eric, nearly as bad as his aching ribs. He rolled to his side, reaching for the bowl containing the rag and foul-smelling ointment. The monk kicked his hand away, then kicked the bowl, sending its contents splashing against the wall.
“That medicine heals the soul as well as the body,” he growled, glaring down at Eric as if he might kick him next. “A soul as weak as yours doesn’t deserve any more healing. It’s clear you’ve wasted our time as well as our limited resources. Yammon still clings to a thread of hope that you might be the one we’ve been searching for. But as for me, I hold no such delusions. Save us from the darkness? Ha! I doubt you could save yourself from a rabid squirrel.”
Enraged, Eric tried to get up, but a swift kick to the chest drove him back to the floor. “Pathetic,” the monk grumbled, keeping his foot pressed against Eric’s chest. “Are the gods playing some sort of joke on us? Has the fate of mankind really fallen into the hands of a clueless boy? It’s obvious to me that the Guardian has stumbled across an imposter. By the time she figured it out, it was already too late. That stupid girl is as much to blame as you are!”
The monk leaned forward, all his weight still pressing against Eric’s chest. “Perhaps she will have a little accident when no one is looking,” he whispered. “That will teach the simpleton not to waste our time.”
Eric slapped his foot away and surged to his feet. “Speak ill of her again and those words shall be your last!” He threw a right cross followed by a left hook, each missing as the monk smoothly sidestepped the blows. Tauntingly, the monk clasped his hands behind his back, weaving his head back and forth.
“Stupid boy,” he roared, tapping his own chin, daring Eric to hit him. “You take your destiny so lightly, yet come to life when I taunt the girl? What sort of priorities are these? What does Jade really have to do with any of this?” Flowing like water, the monk smoothly dodged a second barrage of punches, making Eric look slow and clumsy in the process.
“Say her name again and I’ll cut out your heart!” Eric warned, already beginning to huff. His body was worn out from the constant beatings, but sheer adrenaline urged him on.
“Is that your plan, boy?” the monk taunted, enraging him even further. Eric came at him again, throwing wild, undisciplined fists. With impossible speed, the monk whirled his staff from his back, and caught each fist with a stinging snap. “You cry day and night about how unfair the training is. You complain that you can’t take on so many at once. Bah! Whether we number a hundred, or only one, the outcome will always be the same! You’re a weakling.”
The large man headed for the tent flap. “You want to leave so bad?” he said without looking back. “I’ll make it easy for you. Beat me in combat, and you are free to leave.” The monk stormed from the hut without another word.
Rage boiled though Eric’s veins as he grabbed his sword and started after him. He wanted nothing more than to kill this man for wounding his honor, and insulting the woman he loved. True, it was possible she had made a mistake. Maybe he wasn’t the person everyone thought he was. After all, he had seen others with similar abilities. Maybe the true Gate Keeper was one of them, and he really was just a fraud. But now was not the time to think about such things. Teaching this fool a lesson was the only thing on his mind now.
He stepped out, then froze in his tracks. Monks stood in lines to his left and right, leaving an open path up the middle. At the far end, the large monk stood tall. He held his staff loosely across his shoulder, rolling his neck back and forth.
Eric marched down the human hall, his eyes focused on what lay ahead. Holding staffs, each one tapped his shoulder as he passed by. Was he being further challenged? A sign of respect, perhaps? It didn’t matter now. All he could focus on was the man who insulted the one person he would sacrifice his own life for.
His target still a ways off, he broke into a light jog. Spark erupted in his hand, flames pulsing up the length of the sword. Even from this distance he could see the big man smiling at him, goading him on by tapping his own head with his staff. Bursting into a full sprint, the air slashed open before him. Eric splashed through in a bloom of golden light. The monks watched on, tense as the seconds ticked down. No longer grinning, his opponent’s eyes shifted back and forth, wondering where he would reappear.
The air ripped open behind him, causing the monk to dive forward. As a flaming blade zipped over his head, he completed the roll and sprung back to his feet. Startled, his staff instinctively came up, deflecting a second strike as Eric charged him. He had expected Eric to strike and vanish, just as he had done so many times before. He hadn’t considered that the enraged youth might just bull rush him, betting on his own swordsmanship to win this contest.
No tricks or illusions. No fancy use of doorways. This was a battle, man to man.
The monk spun his staff, deflecting the flaming weapon over and over. With each deflection he was careful to
only hit the broad side of the blade, or else his staff would be cut in two. As it was, the staff was hissing from the heat, charring in multiple spots.
Eric pressed hard, his blade seeking blood. His intent was not to kill the man, but wasn’t doing much to avoid it either. High, low, looping strikes as he flowed smoothly between forms like water trickling over a rock. Wandering road, drifting leaf, flowing river... Eyes wide, the monk backed away with each flowing attack, smooth yet utterly violent at the same time. A lifetime spent on weapons mastery, and all he could do was defend while backing up. It shouldn’t have been this hard.
Eric spun once, twice, each slash narrowly deflected. A third sent his blade straight through the monk’s staff, shattering the weapon into a thousand splinters. Almost immediately, two darts zipped into the back of Eric’s calf, sending fire shooting up his leg. Wincing, he grabbed the area and stumbled to the side.
“Coward!” Eric called out, pointing accusingly. “Is that your idea of honorable combat?”
“And still you’re a fool!” the monk shot back, catching a new staff thrown in his direction. “You think you’re being attacked?” Confused, Eric crinkled his brow at the odd statement. “You are the Gate Keeper. No weapon should ever touch you! Those that try have only assisted you, whether they meant to or not. You fight like a normal man who has no understanding of his own boundaries. No one here is a threat to you!”
The monk exploded into an offensive flurry, his staff twirling and lashing out. Eric’s blade seemed to move on its own, intercepting each strike with fluid precision. But he wasn’t fully focused on the task at hand. His mind wandered, those words bouncing around in his head. What did he mean by no one is a threat to him? His body certainly would have a hard time agreeing with that cryptic statement.
“No matter how fast I move, I will never, ever, be able to block all your attacks.” “Of course not. Nobody can.”