by Atlas Kane
Vinda stared at the crater for a long while, and then announced with a small smile, “To the left, sister.”
“Ha! This one listens. Very good. You can have my Trithna Bean tonight. After we catch and kill this worm, I won’t have need for it anyhow.”
There was little chance of them finding let alone bringing down the worm before it disappeared, but Gemma was impressed. Reading the worm’s direction was one of the most important skills a hunter had to acquire. Now if we can only get her to see the ether trail, Father will be happy at last in his grave.
The safety of the rock canyon came to an end some time later. They had been away for hours already, but Gemma wanted to teach Vinda all she could. Looking to the sky, Gemma announced that for the first time young Vinda would get to run across the plains.
Vinda stifled a squeal, knowing that any loud noise would travel too far for their own good.
Gemma held her sister’s hand, and they stared out at the Shattered Fields beyond. No sloping canyon walls to block out the ether stars. The plains ran far into the distance, occasional flashes of surge lighting glowing in the sky far above. It was a terrible sight, and also one that was infinitely beautiful.
She gave her little sister the time she needed to enjoy the sight. This was a moment of imprinting. Never would Vinda forget this day, and this sight would be the one she held onto longest of all.
At last, the tiny woman squeezed Gemma’s hand, and they both left the safety of stone behind.
Though no storm blew here, the wind still buffeted their naked bodies as they stalked their prey. Vinda clutched at her chest and shivered, causing Gemma to laugh. Her first time on the plains was equally discomforting. No longer though, not unless rain came would Gemma be cold. Her fire burned too brightly.
They walked another half mile until Gemma saw something as lovely as it was surprising. The knobby head of the Calistine Worm burst from the stone ahead of them.
Vinda jumped up and down with excitement, yet Gemma could also see she was afraid. “Never fear, little one. I will fight the beast alone. You are too young, okay?”
The little girl nodded, her smile growing wider.
“Now, we run a little,” Gemma said, then turned and ran to meet the beast.
Normally, the worms would remain topside for an hour, sometimes longer. It was a short time window if the beast hadn’t already been spotted, but Gemma expected this to come to a fight. Large and powerful though they were, she was one of the fiercest Neemashi, and had already slain five worms on her own.
Yet as they approached, the worm shuddered slightly, a sign it was preparing to dive again. Gemma cursed and sped up. She knew Vinda was falling behind her, and when the beast tipped up its head and dove forward, she gave up, slowing to allow her sister to catch up.
The sound of shattering earth filled their ears. It sounded like food escaping.
Gemma was about to console her sister when she heard the clipped screech of death itself, flying soundlessly above them.
Looking to the sky, she found a nightmare descending toward them at great speed. Why did I bring her out? she berated herself. Yet she was half Vinda’s age when she’d first come to the plains.
She looked back to the crags they’d left behind, the broken dome of earth their clan called home was too far away for them to make it back in time. Still, she would try.
“Run, Vinda, and this time, do not stray behind me.”
The sisters sprinted toward the only cover that was available on the plains. Earthen clasts littered the plains, some protruding straight up from the rocky soil like enormous stalagmites. If there was any chance to live now, it would be by hiding.
They ran faster than shadows across the broken ground, and twice, Vinda nearly fell. More searching screeches came from above, each time closer. When she looked up, Gemma could see the splayed wings of the dragon descending. It was close enough now to make out its burning eyes and ridged back spines.
A cluster of earth clasts jutted from the ground a few hundred feet away. Diving into their midst, Gemma guided her sister to the center of the formation, and prayed to Handu the father for protection.
They hid in the shadow of the nearest earth clast, the large jagged formation of crystal and stone reflecting the shimmering lights in the sky. All was silent for a few moments as they waited. The dragons were as quiet as they were deadly.
No plant grew in the endless wreckage of the Final War, and only the Neemashi clans remained here, hunting the few Calistine Worms that could still be found. They were not the only hunters on this plain.
The Basalt Dragon landed heavily, tearing up the rocky ground so near that Gemma and her sister Vinda could feel its shuddering heart fire burning. The air thrummed with the infernal life source. The dragons fed on the minerals that grew so plentifully across these wastelands, but there was another resource they needed to thrive. The Neemashi burned hot with ether taken from the worms. And of course, the dragons needed the ether.
Gemma looked to her sister, held her flat against the stone of the earth clast. If they remained silent, the dragon would move on. Their vision was fallible, but if the monster had caught their scent, there was little they could hope for.
But Vinda was terrified. Her cobalt-colored eyes flared with excitement. The girl couldn’t help herself. She shook with fear, the bright stripes of her body’s fire already stoking.
Gemma shook her head, eyes pleading. She mouthed the words, “It’s okay. Calm down.” Vinda nodded, as good and faithful a girl as she ever was. The dragon’s bulk crashed into the ground, landing close enough that they felt its tremor.
Vinda clenched her teeth, tears springing from her eyes. Gemma held her close, hoping the weight of her arms would be enough to keep the girl calm. It was no use though, for as soon as the Basalt Dragon sniffed the air, its great lungs pulsing with life, Vinda lit up like the sun on a Flare Day.
The dragon turned its head, hearing the combustion of Vinda’s ether. It sounded like a torch doused in liquid ether bursting to life, far from a quiet transformation. Vinda’s body thickened, muscles tensing and bunching together. Her legs buckled beneath her, and a wavering mane of black and orange flame leapt out in the distinct pattern that Gemma had grown so fond of.
Every Neemashi had their own pattern, like the striped cats of the jungles their people still told about in legend. Each of them was distinct. Yet it wasn’t the bright stripes the dragon was attracted to, it was the sulfur burn of ignited ether.
The dragon bellowed, turning and bounding toward them. It would be on them in moments, and despite the size of the stone shard they hid behind, the dragon would smash through their cover easily.
Gemma had only one option.
There is no way any dragon will take my sister while I yet live, she thought, and stepped out into the open.
Igniting her own heart fire, Gemma transformed, her claws and fangs distending further as she fell into her cat form. Gemma’s fire burned brighter than her sister’s, and rather than run away, she sprinted toward the dragon. Staring into the beast’s ether blue eyes, she knew her life teetered on the brink.
At the last second, she veered to one side, kiting the massive beast away from her sister. Follow me, demon! Follow me!
No need to hear her thoughts, the dragon pursued Gemma. Its larger form was easily capable of outrunning even the swiftest of the Neemashi. Gemma had learned a great many tricks in her years, though, and before this was over, she would use them all.
She ran to a nearby earth clast, darting around it to hide. The dragon predictably shouldered through the crystalline spire, but as it did so, Gemma leapt, raking its belly with her claws. These she infused with a great portion of her ether stores, extending the claws deep into the dragon’s innards.
To kill a Basalt Dragon was rare. More than a generation had passed since one of their people managed the feat. Gemma would be damned if she didn’t try.
The beast roared, white and blue flames sc
oring the air in a display of its pain. Feel my claws! I will make you remember the Neemashi for the warriors that we are, Gemma thought, and she sped away in a new direction, now leading the dragon far away from her sister.
Another clast lay ahead, and Gemma reached it just in time. The Basalt Dragon reared up and used the flat expanse of its head to blast the tower of stone to pieces. She had guessed this as well.
In a bright flash, Gemma teleported, her form flickering in and out of this dimension, the shards of stone flying past her harmlessly. And as the dragon shook its head to recover from the blow, she lashed out, expending more valuable ether into her barbed tail. It struck the side of the dragon, piercing its tough hide and scoring a deep wound along its ribs. Not deep enough to kill. The dragon turned on her once more and followed her retreat.
It was limping though. And Gemma had half of her stored ether remaining. She could destroy the beast, ruin it completely. For the first time since hearing its inhuman call, she felt hope kindle in her heart. Her people would rejoice to see what she had done, and they would be rich for a year and a day.
Then the sky cracked open, a bolt of searing lightning falling into the plain before her. Gemma glanced up to see the rapid formation of clouds. Oh, gods no. Not here! Not now! she wanted to cry out, but indifferent to her needs, the rain began to fall in sheets.
Floods were common in the wasteland, and though each flood washed away a little bit more of the ruin that had overtaken the world, it also extinguished the Neemashi’s fire.
Gemma winced as her flames sizzled and flickered, disappearing in moments. Along with it, the magic that fueled her cat form evaporated, and Gemma’s body bent to reshape itself.
Once more, she stood in her human skin, the Basalt Dragon pounding across the plain to destroy her. She’d done everything in her power to destroy it, yet she could not control the weather itself. She’d already ran over half a league away, however, and she knew Vinda was safe, would return to their village and tell the tale of how Gemma Brightclaw nearly defeated a Basalt Dragon alone.
Gemma faced the demon, watched its length undulate in rapid strides, its plated body moving like a worm, like the Neemashi’s tails, like every angular and unyielding surface in this world.
And even in the face of her own demise, she found it beautiful.
She held out her hand - not in a futile gesture to ward off the impending beast, and not to block it from her view - Gemma reached instead to greet whatever would come next.
The dragon fell on her, taking her body in its mouth and tearing it apart.
All was black, and all moved with the inexorable force of an ocean. She was swept in its tide and reveled in its endless freedom. Then a charged pop, and Gemma felt her body reforming from a thousand thousand pinpricks of ether colliding back into place.
When she could see again and the agony of rebirth finished, Gemma blinked, floating in a gray void. And a purple cloud popped up before her, greeting her in a strange tongue she somehow knew. “Welcome, Gemma Brightclaw, and congratulations. You have been selected by the Interdimensional Council to be resurrected and spawned within the world of Antinium.”
Gemma shook her head, staring at the odd creature who had disturbed her rest. It waited for her to respond, and when she thought to answer, she found she had a mouth and a tongue to do so.
“Who are you, and where in the Shattered Fields is Antinium?”
~The End~
……….If you think you’re a champion, and want to see what comes next, check out Chimera King 2: Champions of Last World
Ebook: Champions of Last World!
Book 2: Champions of Last World
Prologue: To Hold the Flame
The placid surface of the portal in Tanrial rippled with an influx of energy.
White light shone from the endless depths it sealed away, and its ancient frame shuddered with effort. A hissing filled the air, like a pit of vipers calling out their displeasure, and the few Silver Guards who stood watch stepped back, pain leeching through their mental control.
Then it buckled, and the silver mirror of the surface spat out another champion of Antinium.
A woman with skin the color of wet ash stepped forward, her yellow eyes flickering about her to take in this strange new place.
She registered the guards at once and drew her bow, a soul weapon bound to her and named after the sister she left behind. Vinda hummed with potential, an arrow made of hardened ether forming on her string.
The woman alternated her aim between the three guards as they slowly approached her. Their plate armor made her attack less likely to succeed, so she examined them for a chink in their defense.
No eye slits presented themselves as targets. Masks of smooth steel shone in the bright sunlight, reflecting only the blurred image of her own fear.
“Come with us. The Lord of Tanrial wishes to speak with you at once,” the nearest guard said, his voice flat and emotionless.
Gemma, my name is Gemma, she told herself, lowering her bow and sighing in resignation. And I will not die the first minute I am reborn.
Her response was as hard and unyielding as an Artelan Crystal. “I will come. Lead, and I will follow.”
Seeming to take her words for submission, two of the guards swiveled and began to march away, deeper into the shimmering city beyond. The third waited for her to follow. When she did, they fell into step behind her, matching the pace and rhythm of the first two perfectly.
Are all the people in this place so sexless and strange? Gemma pondered. And what does this Lord have in mind for me?
Gemma was not bothered by her canvas clothing, though she did think it odd to adorn her body with fabric. She also did not notice her lack of shoes. She was Neemashi, bred and blooded. No true clansman would shackle their feet in such a manner. So it was in relative comfort, if not with a sense of growing anxiety at her captors’ intent, that Gemma made her way through Tanrial.
When she saw the golden lion for the first time, her face winced with disgust.
Her people had long heard of the Harten, the scaled lions that lived in vaulted towers so differently from her own tribe. They shared the same world but did not live in accordance with one another. They had taken to the ancient ways, machines of steel and fire to drive their vast cities.
Her people had sworn sacred oaths to live out their lives on the ruined plains. Better to take your chance at being devoured by one of the fell beasts that haunted the place than to commit crimes against the gods.
“Welcome to Tanrial,” the man said, eyeing her skin casually. He was dressed in resplendent armor, the sun shining off every aspect of his person.
He was seated on a throne of pure gold, and Gemma was forced to squint her eyes to behold him. This must have been his intent, she surmised, knowing that some prefer to make others feel less powerful to elevate their own.
“I do not feel welcome,” Gemma responded. Another contingent of guards stood rigid behind the man. All wore the same armor as those who had escorted her, polished, steel plate mail that left no indication of rank, sex, or appearance.
Even with a dozen fierce Neemashi, there was no way she could win against them.
The man laughed, his voice musical yet filled with spite. There was no goodness in his heart fire. Gemma could tell that immediately. No surprise there. The Harten are evil, driven by power and appearance alone.
“I apologize if my guards are less accommodating than the arrival of one so lovely deserves. Might I ask your name?”
He allowed his eyes to explore her body, unashamed of his lust.
When she answered, she made sure he felt her disapproval. “My name is my own. If you wish to hear it from my lips, you will need to earn the privilege. And if you wish to command me so casually, you will tell me your name as well as what you plan. Speaking with someone at the tip of a spear means they are less a guest and more a prisoner, no?”
“You are not a prisoner. I can assure you, should that be yo
ur fate, you will know. I can just as easily find you a mask of your own.” The man’s eyes flickered to the guard standing at her elbow, and a chill ran down Gemma’s spine. So this is how they are controlled. What then would happen should I remove that mask?
She stood there, waiting to hear whatever proposition this man had for her. This was a negotiation, simple and true. Since Gemma had little to offer, she knew what was at stake was her will alone.
A keen intellect burned in the man’s eyes. He spoke once more, allowing his voice to be coated with a thin varnish of kindness. “I seek allies. That is all. Ones that can view the world from my perspective and share in my vision. Is that not a worthy goal?” Sensing she would not answer, he gave her his name. “I am Vormer. May I not have your name in return?”
“I am Gemma. Am I free to go? I wish to find food and shelter then speak with my demon helper. I know little of this place and am not yet strong.”
He nodded, acknowledging her request. “Perhaps. Perhaps in time you may go as you wish. I must have certain assurances first though. Is it not wise for a chieftain to know the mind of all under his rule?”
Anger filled Gemma’s heart fire, and she felt the back of her neck begin to burn. No. This is not the time to ignite. Words are better than fang or flame. I must see if he will be reasoned with first. Still, that he assumed she would be his subject, a right that was won through trial alone, was almost enough to make her challenge him there on the spot.
“I have only just arrived. I have not been given food or water, nor even shown a place to rest my head. It is not my intention to offend you… Lord, but I do not feel you have a right to be called my chieftain.”
The air bristled with tension, and Gemma knew she was not the only one here with anger in her heart. This man expected fealty, but was unwilling to grant a thing in return. There were many words for such leaders in her world. They all meant the same thing: tyrant.
When he spoke again, his voice had shifted down an octave, a hint of gravel lacing his words. “Regardless of how you feel, you are here now, in my city. Are you willing to serve me and the Burning God Aten?”