The casualties had still been too high. We needed more defenses, and we needed more planes. We needed Howitzers, and we needed so many weapons that they couldn’t see the lines for the guns. And we needed Mages. We needed so many Mages. That, I could provide. The tests were going quite well with the new Mages, and I intended to start making more immediately.
"Perhaps you're the lucky one, Buddy," I muttered, "You get to stop now. I'm just beginning. I'll see you soon enough, Ric-maybe not today, but soon enough."
The rage was still dangerously close to the surface. I'd spent some time trying to erect the walls back around the rage in my mind, but it wouldn’t stay caged. It was right below the surface all the time now and ready to erupt at a moment's notice.
***
I looked out at the crowd of people looking at me. The number of Soulguards had grown to well over ten thousand for the last rites of the fellow warriors who fell at Second Kansas.
My Company was right out in the front of the crowd. I could see Andrea Prada, standing straight. She had been wounded a few times in the fight, but Mages heal faster even than Guards and she was back on her feet. I saw Lyrica, with Trent and Mattie, ever at her side. I hated that I couldn't spend as much time the two of them as I wanted. There never seemed to be enough time.
Not only were there thousands of people watching, but there were several news crews, including Jennifer Alstead.
"Today we mourn the loss of many of our brothers and sisters. Each and every one of them died while performing the duty of protecting the Human race. This is what we do. This is what we are."
"I am saddened by the loss of so many of our friends and family--family. This is what the Guard is to me. You are the only family I have ever known. Kyra Nightwing and Kharl Jaegher raised me from the day I was born, my mother and father in every way but blood-- Soulguard--family. I look out at you, and I see my brothers and I see my sisters--my family."
"Today we mourn the loss of one thousand four hundred and ten of our brothers and our sisters. It leaves a great hole in my heart when I think about them. But they gave us victory. They bought that victory with blood and they will never be forgotten!"
With that word, the huge structure behind me was unveiled. It was the beginning of a monument that would hold the names of all of our dead. It was the first huge block of a marble wall and on the front of it were the gold plaques of fourteen hundred and ten names.
"Behind us is a great victory, but before us looms a desperate future. More will come and we will stand and fight, just as the Human race has always done. I was asked once if this was Armageddon, the End of Days. I was asked if these Kresh were the armies of Hell come to devour the world."
My rage was touching the surface, and I was seeing through heat waves as my eyes burned with Soulfire.
"I say no they aren't from Hell. They haven't seen Hell. I am going to show it to them! They call me Rash'Tor'Ri, Life Ender. That's not really accurate, alone, I am just a Mage. But as long as you are with me, we are Rash'Tor'Ri! And together, you and I, we are going to show each and every one of those bastards who set foot on our world what Hell truly is!"
I'm not sure if I was projecting the emotions I was feeling but the Soulguards facing me stood and raised fists in the air. The ground seemed to shake with the roar that erupted from the throats of ten thousand Soulguards. I joined them with my own yell of fury.
The rage was barely under the surface after my touching of the Kresh Source, but I managed to sit down and observe the rest of the Memorial service.
The Guard had never been much on medals and awards. We were born in secrecy and our triumphs were largely unsung. But all of that changed when they invaded our world in numbers that couldn't be hidden. The Council had begun the crafting of medals for those who go above and beyond the call of duty, much like the Congressional Medal of Honor. It would be awarded to those who had done just that. Trainees had no business in the battlefield, but those very Trainees were the reason the lines held. They had truly gone beyond the call of duty and each of them was awarded the Medal of Valor.
Eighty seven Trainees received this medal posthumously, including Cordell Fortraine, Julius Samson, and Malcolm Kenner. These three were gang members in New York a few months before Second Kansas, and they showed me what the human race is capable of. Thugs and criminals became heroes when our world needed them.
They had tried to award me with the same medal. I refused. I just did my duty, nothing more. It was argued that First Kansas was definitely beyond the call of duty. My response was simple.
"If we start awarding past actions, the whole Soulguard will need the damn things. Every damn one of them has done no less at some point in their past."
I got my way on the subject.
But we did receive dress uniforms with campaign ribbons. The Military has inspired us to show what we are proudly. Before, we used secrecy. Now, we wear our Soulguard uniforms proudly and wear our Campaign Patches with pride as well.
My uniform held ,both, First Kansas and Second Kansas, The Battles of New York and Chicago. I had a suspicion there would be more of those campaigns in the future, many more.
Chapter 50
I saw Pelin moving down the hallway with another Shak'Tar I didn't recognize. I was watching with my Sight. I sat in my office looking at the massive list of the fallen. I need to remember them. I need to remember them all.
"Come in, Pelin," I said as she neared the door.
Unlike most, the Shak'Tar aren't made nervous by my extraordinary skills, both from my Soullord heritage and my Kresh blood. She entered the office with a man who I didn't remember, but the moment he saw me I knew him.
He carried the Mark I had put on Gorvelis and the others, but it was just a bit different. He was one that the Mark had spread to. His name was Fero Jintera, and he was from another world than Earth or Kresh. He was from a world called Cerres, a world under the yoke of the Kresh. I knew all of this the second I saw him, and I could tell by his aura and by the feelings I was feeling from the man that he was in utter awe of the only human to ever Mark another being.
"Master," he said as he knelt, "I have news for you from Gorvelis."
I shouldn't have been able to understand him. His language was totally alien to me but my link seemed to translate as he spoke.
I nodded, "There's no need to kneel to me, Fero."
He looked confused and he stayed on his knee, "You are the Master."
I sighed, "Ok, what's Touran been up to?"
"He approached us on Cerres and the Mark spread across us. Immediately we began to pull people out of the villages and hiding them."
"Just remember," I said, "You only have to remember, Fero."
He was silent for a second and nodded. I concentrated and watched/lived a memory.
***
I rode the memories of Fero as he watched the approach of Gorvelis and a large group of the Clan. In moments the Mark slammed through Fero and the others around him. He was on his knees holding his head as the Mark ripped apart the Mark of his former Master. This new Mark was utterly amazing. Never had he felt anything of the sort from any of the Kresh.
His mouth fell open as he realized that the Mark was from a Human! And what a Human it was. In the moment of the Mark, Fero knew this man. He knew him to his core and as he learned his new Master, tears streamed down his face. For so long he had hated his Masters, but this one didn't instill hatred. It was truly amazing.
He turned to his left to see Sureta Golin down on her knees as well. Her face was pale and her eyes wide in amazement.
"He is Human?!" she exclaimed.
"Very much so," answered Gorvelis.
I followed memories through some time and watched as the Night Clan, which is what Shak'Tar translates as, began hiding people from the Kresh. This went on for months as Gorvelis and his men worked their way through Cerres spreading my Mark.
It all culminated in one final memory. Gorvelis stood in front of nearly five hundred S
hak'Tar. He was facing a giant of a Kresh. It had to be a Farrara'Ti. They were surrounded by thousands and thousands of Kresh.
"I could rip you apart and eat you," rumbled the voice of the Farrara'Ti, "But I will not. I will destroy this new Master's Mark and take you as my own, slave."
Touran Gorvelis smiled.
"You are welcome to try," he said, "but you will fail. Better to kill us all than face my Master. Better to run to the farthest corner of Cerres than make war on the Clans of Rash'Tor'Ri!"
"Rash'Tor'Ri! He is a story to scare whelps! I fear no Rash'Tor'Ri!"
"Then you are welcome to try to take his Mark from me!"
Everyone felt the Lash of the Farrara'Ti. Gorvelis staggered and there was blood running from his eyes, mouth, and nose.
"Now!" he roared.
Something that no Kresh had ever done started then. Five hundred Shak'Tar Lashed together. They Lashed with one thing, my Mark.
Each of those Lashes were pushed, not outward but directly through Gorvelis. He rose to his feet and raised his arms as he slammed it all into the Farrara'Ti.
The giant Kresh staggered and fell to the ground, screaming. Each of the Shak'Tar could feel the changes take shape in the mind of Pos'Far'Nadir, the Farrara'Ti who had controlled Cerres for the last century.
Gorvelis walked forward toward the Kresh who was on all fours in front of him. It's head was hanging down and it raised as Gorvelis approached. Their eyes were on the same level and Gorvelis stared into the confused eyes of the giant.
"Your mistake was to think you faced only one," he said and placed his hand on the enormous shoulder of the Kresh before him, "Welcome, brother. Welcome."
He turned to the other Humans, his Clan, and motioned for Fero to step forward.
"It is time to send word to the Master, Fero," he said, "You will go to him and tell him something for me. Tell him that the Revolution has begun!"
There was a great roar around them as both the Shak'Tar and all of the Clans of Kresh raised their fists in the air and let rip a shout that would be heard throughout the fifteen worlds. I could see the seeds of the destruction of the Kresh Empire in that shout, and it took all that I had not to shout with them. These were my soldiers in a war that covers multiple worlds. They are mine and they are doing the things I can't do yet. But, one day I will join them and we will bring that Empire to its knees. We'll burn it down, Humanity will be free!
"Stand, Fero," I said, "I expected great things from Gorvelis and the rest of you but this is amazing. You have my gratitude, and when I can rid this world of the influence of the Kresh, I will be going through the Gate to join you all."
"Understood, Master," he said with a fervor that scares the hell out of me, "We will continue and anticipate the time when you can come."
I turned to Pelin who had shared in the memory as well, "See that he is fed and treated well. I have to think for a while on what response to send to Touran. He seems to have things well in hand. I believe I'll leave things in his capable hands."
"Yes, Master."
"You don't have to call me that."
"I know, Master."
I sighed and she chuckled.
"Do you mind if I share with our brother what happened here?"
"Not at all, I was going to send a report back to Gorvelis anyway."
She turned to Fero and I saw the flood of images that crossed to the man. I had thought she was just talking about telling the story but I should have known better. They are telepathic after all.
They replay of the battle was very coherent and I could tell it came from the memories of many people, including myself. I had to remind myself that this was all they had known and it wasn't unusual for them to garner information in this manner.
But watching what I did from the vantage of the other people in the field was quite disconcerting. I can see why the others feel the fear after seeing what I am capable of.
After she finished, Fero turned to me with awe, "Please, Master, do me the honor of placing your Mark on me in person. Never would any of us ask one of the Kresh to do this, but you are not them. Your Mark is a joy to carry."
I didn't see the harm in it so I concentrated on the Mark inside him and I focused my will on it. I slammed my will into that Mark and it blazed inside Fero.
"Thank you, Master," he was once again on his knees.
"Stand, Fero," I said. "You don't have to kneel to me. You don't have to call me Master. My name is Colin Rourke."
He nodded and stood. Pelin led him out of the room, and she looked back at me standing there with the discomfort I feel when dealing with the near slavery of the Shak'Tar. She chuckled again and shook her head.
Chapter 51
"Ma'am," I stood and strode across the room to the woman who was shown into my office, "Welcome."
She was a heavy set black woman and she was followed by a man in his twenties and a teenage girl. I could see the family resemblance and I knew that they were her other children.
"Mr. Rourke," the older woman said, "I come out hea cause you asked me to. I already knew one day I would heah dat useless boy done died in da street."
I could see the conflicting emotions in her two children. Both seemed to have felt the way their mother did but I could see a glimmer of hope in the young woman.
"Ma'am," I said through my own well of emotion about the loss of Cordell Fortraine. He had been my responsibility and he'd died because I had brought him to this place.
"Please allow me to show you something," I said, "I have certain abilities that are beyond the normal. Let me show you how your son died. You can judge from there however you want to."
"How you gon show me?"
I smiled gently, "It won't harm you in any way, Ma'am."
I projected a memory from the gathered memories of the group that had held their ground protecting the civilians.
Her eyes widened as she saw Jennifer Alstead fall and a young black man step across her and protect her as she was dragged into the circle.
This was the last act of Cordell as he was ripped by a soldier that got through his defenses. He could have lived if he'd not stepped out alone, but it had happened so fast.
There were tears in all three of their eyes as she looked up at me, "Dat's my boy?"
She asked me in a tone of utter astonishment. She had known of his gang ties, his criminal acts, but this was something out of a dream.
"Yes Ma'am," I said, "Cordell Fortraine died a hero. He died in a battlefield I brought him to. He died a Soulguard."
I handed her a black box gilded in silver. She opened it to find a simple silver medal.
"Ma'am," I said, "this is the Soulguard Medal of Valor. We're relatively new at awarding medals for our troops, but your son earned it. He left that past that you knew of and forged himself into the man you saw. I was and am very proud of his actions and gladly present this medal to you."
She clutched the box to her chest and muttered, "My boy was a hero."
There was a great surge of pride in her wayward son rolling through her aura, as she clutched the box.
"Thank you Mr. Rourke," she said to me and she turned and followed by her other son and daughter, walked away.
The daughter turned and looked back, "Thank you Mr. Rourke. I've waited a long time for him to change. I just wish I could have seen him before he was gone."
She turned away and followed her mother and brother.
That had been hard, but I felt so much better after seeing a mother regain the pride in a child that she had lost her pride in a long time ago.
I had spent days searching for the next of kin for the fallen, and I had found most of them. I was looking at the form in front of me--Rictor Hughes. There was only one person listed on his form. He, like me, had no family except the Guard. He had listed me as his next of kin, and I sat there with tears in my eyes as I looked at the page. He was my best friend, he'd been a sort of mentor when I got to Knoxville, and we'd been working together ever since. I h
ave friends I've known longer than I knew Ric, but none who were as close. He knew more about my heritage than any other person. He'd pushed me to find out what was wrong with me. He'd followed me into Hell so many times I had lost count.
I put the form down and stood up. I needed to find Rostov. He'd said something about the finest Vodka in the whole world and I could really use a drink.
***
Alexei Rostov was sitting in the barracks when Lyrica Jayne found him. He saw her coming and smiled. He liked the young woman and he knew she was good for Colin. He'd learned a few things about the both of them since his arrival in Kansas--he the eternal warrior, she the healer. Right out of a grand story they were, he thought.
"Hey Alexei," she said, "Have you seen Colin around?"
"Yes, he came by a few hours ago to talk me out of a bottle of the finest Vodka that Russia has ever produced. It seems a bit of a waste, since he can't really get drunk from it."
Her eyes seemed to lose focus for a moment. It was truly eerie when either of them did that. He knew they were looking at the energy flows of the world when it happened but it was weird anyway.
Her eyes crossed the north where the battlefield had been and her eyes narrowed.
"Oh no," she said in a voice that made his heart jerk, It was filled with a sadness he hadn’t seen in her before.
She turned and shot back out the door. He jumped up and followed. Her two shadows were just steps behind her as she shot to the north. He followed in their wake.
They ran through the destroyed landscape toward a spot that Rostov knew from the battle. He was a little worried too, now. This is where Hughes had fallen. He knew how much it had hurt Colin to lose his right hand. The Soullord's Pitbull, they had called him. Rostov had no doubt that Rictor Hughes would have done anything the Soullord asked. He would have followed him into the Demon world if Colin had asked him.
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