Endfall

by Colin Ososki

  “You were a part of the group.” Milo said. It was supposed to be a question but came out more like an accusation.

  “Guess that, did you?” Riddley’s eyebrows were messy and torn, which was appearing to Milo for the first time.

  “It’s pretty obvious.”

  “Why I’m all the way out here, I suppose.” He chuckled. He sipped his tea again. Milo was starting to think Riddley didn’t even like tea either. “Some serious storming is upon us, Milo.” His tone had shifted. “Are you prepared?”

  Milo knew his honest answer wasn’t what he wanted to say. “Yes,” he said.

  Riddley raised his boney index finger, starting intently at Milo. “Come with me,” he said.

  Riddley led Milo down a long hallway. The walls were painted green and the ceiling was curved, lined in a goldish wood. There were more than a dozen doors, each with a red door knocker. At the end of the hallway Riddley stopped at the final door and raised his hand at Milo, who stood at least two lengths behind, signaling a halt. Riddley let out a soft breath, holding his position for a moment and putting his ear up to the door. Milo just now noticed a haze forming near the ceiling and drifting down, a light colored smoke. Milo wasn’t sure that was comforting.

  “What I’m about to show you will brand your role in this ordeal.” Riddley pushed a hand shakily towards the handle of the door. “I knew you were of great capabilities.”

  “I hope you’re not overestimating me.” Milo said.

  The door swing open swiftly with a loud creaking sound and Riddley rushed inside. It was nothing more than a shallow closet, the inside as cream and dusted as the living room. But in front of the door there stood a small table with a locked chest atop it.

  Riddley spread his wrinkly hands over the lock and faintly hummed a tune. “This,” he said, pulling a key from his pocket, “is what was left of the project I worked on.” He put it in, turned it twice, the lock clicked. Riddley opened the lid of the chest, and revealed a bundle of items laid in red velvet. On top, something black, made of a thick cloth material. Riddley grasped it and raised it up. “The cloak,” he said. He turned it over, and Milo saw the symbol of a lion displayed under the hood. It was a cloak of mighty quality, he suspected.

  “Who was it for?” asked Milo.

  “The user,” Riddley replied, painting a grin.

  “The user of what?” Milo’s attention caught Riddley’s intent, almost in mid-speech. Riddley looked downwards into the chest. Underneath the cloak, the strangest sword Milo had ever seen. It was a gray metal, but unlike other swords that were molded to a point, this was rectangular, having actually no sharp edge. Four equally rectangular shapes extruded from the hilt, creating a cross shape.

  “This is no ordinary weapon.” Riddley cautiously picked it up. “It’s yours now.” He held it out to Milo. Milo opened his mouth to speak, but Riddley was already inferring. “You don’t have to use it to kill. You don’t have to use it at all. But it’s yours.” His pointy nose lifted, eyes tilting somewhere Milo couldn’t see. And he spoke again, “Someone’s here.”

  Riddley swung open the front door with alarming speed. “Who are you?” he grouched.

  There was a voice, and Milo knew it instantly. He peered from behind Riddley.

  “Lyrah!” He exclaimed, “She’s my friend.”

  Riddley stepped aside. “I knew that,” he said, scratching his head. “Come in,” he said, “it’s chilly out there.” Lyrah came inside, and hugged Milo.

  “We don’t have a lot of time,” she said.

  “What’s going on?” Milo asked. Riddley walked back towards the green hallway.

  “Abraham wants us back at Havensheil.” Lyrah sounded less cheerful than a moment ago. “Rezzifer is outside waiting for us.”

  “I haven’t been here long,” Milo said.

  “Did he give you something?”

  “Yes,” said Milo, grabbing the sword from where he had set it. He had somewhat expected it to be shiny when he showed it to her, but instead it looked dull.

  “That’s an interesting sword,” said Lyrah.

  Riddley called from the hallway, “Don’t wreck it.”

  Milo peered back towards the hallway, but there was no sign of Riddley anywhere. He shot a look at Lyrah, both had the same confused look underway.

  Lyrah spoke. “Things got really bad,” she said, “Abraham needs us.”

  Riddley emerged again from the green room. “Don’t forget this,” he said. In his hands he held out the cloak.

  FORTHCOMING

  They gathered now in a massive assembly. There was a bridge made of ice that rose over the river that ran through Havensheil, which is where they gathered. All but Abraham stood around the river near the bridge, but he stood atop of it. This was the first time Lyrah had seen the whole group gathered at once; it was an amazing sight, perhaps a hundred or two armored lynxes, alongside about one hundred armored men. Wait, where’s Milo? She searched the crowd again.

  “Listen closely everyone,” said Abraham, who stood near the fire atop the icy bridge, “If we don’t stop them now, there is much more to come after this. What Mr. Charlie plans on bringing forth to the bay is just a small group of a few hundred. To our knowledge, we know there are well over four thousand in total. They will cross the Bay, and we will push them back. The primary target is Mr. Charlie. To do this, Oslo, Tarrian, and I have designed a plan of attack. I will lead a division of just twenty-four armored lynxes around the South edge of the Bay, headed towards the Hall. Tarrian will lead a much larger division in the same direction, but directly through the center. Following closely behind Tarrian’s group will be Allomus, leading a division of archers for defense. I ask that any human here with the needed skills join them. Our second largest division, under Farhisk’s control, will hide in the forest to defend Havensheil. And lastly, there will be a small division, led by Oslo, headed towards the Hall taking the North edge of the Bay. Their main focus is speed, for they are to reach the Hall before any of us. When they reach the entrance, they will hold that area until Tarrian and I can reach it. From there, the three of us will enter the Hall alone, everyone else must hold the entrance. We stand on the edge of the Bay in one hour; I ask that everyone now make the proper preparations. Good luck to us all.” No cheers, no shouts, no battle cries.

  -----

  The air was thick with a curious swelling of dread. Lyrah and Abraham stood in the furthest depths of the forge, in a separated room created only for the containment of hazardous materials. Inside with them was a blue glow emitting from a stone that rested on a pedestal.

  “What a mystery all of this is,” said Lyrah. She stood as far back from the blue stone as she could, for she knew of its fragile nature.

  Abraham made no effort to speak, but let out a soft, sorrowful, purr. He walked a bit closer to the stone, lowering his head to it, looking closely at it. “Interesting. Why, do you think Mr. Charlie had this?”

  “I'm not sure,” Lyrah responded, “I didn’t think there was any left.”

  Abraham lifted his head up from viewing the mysterious stone and turned back to Lyrah. “Events have told otherwise.”

  “So where do you think this is from?” Lyrah asked, her expression growing grim. “Do you think they could have found it?”

  “Reichtmagen?” Abraham said, interrupting. Lyrah nodded.

  “It was just after the Red Rebellion,” continued Abraham, “that the Parliament agreed to pursue it in secret.”

  “But how did they know of it?” Lyrah asked.

  “We believe it was Doctor Artimus who confronted them.”

  “If there is still some back there, then Pæraleth is in danger, Abraham.”

  “Unfortunately, we believe there is. We are sending out a team shortly, led by Engand, headed straight for Reichtmagen. Operation Moonlight.” Abraham seemed to have a slight exhaustion.

  “Is this being kept a secret?” Asked Lyrah.

  “Yes. Nobody in Havensheil is aware of
this operation besides us and the participants. It will be a team of six; four armored lynxes and two archers. They will depart in a firefly in twenty-seven minutes, straight into the North Rim.”

  “Which of them are they?” Lyrah asked.

  “The lynxes are Yusof, Mussolin, Simo Hay, and Patton. The archer leading them is Engand, and they’ll have Thamos. They have been asked to keep quiet as well. Sorry to keep this from you.”

  “I respect secrets,” she said, “But why will you need archers? What sort of encounter are you expecting in there?”

  -----

  Rezzifer walked along the walls of the forge, leading towards the exit to the outside of Havensheil. But shortly came Oslo, who was walking opposite. As he passed, Rezzifer spoke. “Oslo,” he said, getting a response from Oslo, which was a simple nod, “have they organized us into our divisions yet?”

  “I think so,” said Oslo, stopping to talk, “Go talk to Allomus, he was helping them with it. I’m not sure where you were put, if that’s what you are wondering.”

  “Yes, I was wondering, and thank you,” Rezzifer said.

  -----

  Lyrah walked through the calm fortressed camp. Above, on the bridge between watchtowers, sat Milo. There you are.

  “What has Abraham assigned you to?” Lyrah said, approaching her daunted friend.

  Milo held silent for a moment. They both stood in the wintery noise above the clamor and chatter below. “I’m not supposed to tell you,” said Milo.

  Lyrah shrugged. Milo smiled, shrugging as well, “but it’s called Operation Moonlight.”

  The cheer in Lyrah’s face left instantly. “What?”

  “It’s a secret mission to the North–”

  “Yes I know,” Lyrah cut in, “I was one of the only people that was told besides the participants.”

  “Not so secret I guess,” Milo smirked. “Abraham didn’t tell you I was involved?”

  “No,” Lyrah responded, curling back, “he didn’t.” She looked down towards the soldiers, now aligning. “But Milo you must know it’s dangerous,” she proclaimed.

  “Yeah, they told me about Reichtmagen.” Milo was looking at her, even though she was looking away. “Riddley gave me this,” he said, holding out the rectangular sword. “He said it’s going to help, and that I’m someone special –”

  “Where is Abraham?” Lyrah asked.

  -----

  In the back of Havensheil, behind the ice wall, Abraham stood waiting near a firefly. The air was cold. Around the ice wall came Engand, dressed in black, metal armor. His was not forged by Allomus, but from a man in Fort Warlow. His helmet was quite unique, in the center of the metal in the front he had a thick, darkened layer of glass shadowing his face. He also carried his bow and a quiver of arrows. Following him was Thamos, who also wore dark colored armor.

  Soon after, the lynxes came around, each wearing unique and colored armor. Yusof’s plates were made of silver, filled with art outlined in a royal blue. Mussolin’s armor was also silver, but his shoulder plates were stained a dark green, and his head piece was stained a blood red. Mussolin’s head piece was very bizarre, having multiple spine-like attachments on the top. Simo Hay’s armor was colored in bright white, almost the color of snow. It was made interesting with artworks of swirling figures and violent symbols. Patton’s armor was completely stained in a dark blue color, which Abraham found to look brilliant. It was a simple set, lacking any unique things like that of Mussolin’s head piece, but protective. Engand and Abraham both looked up when the footsteps of Milo appeared. He wore light, blue tinted armor. In his left hand he held a tight grip on his sword.

  Engand stepped into the firefly, quickly followed by Thamos, who took his spot as the pilot. The great machine began to power up, lights flickering, engines whining. Yusof and the others lynxes, all wearing their vibrant colored armor, came in next. Milo stepped in last, after receiving a calm nod from Abraham. A loud bellow came from the belly of the firefly. Abraham lifted his head as the massive propellers began to rotate, faster and faster. “Good luck, to you all.” Footsteps shuffled quickly from somewhere close by.

  The firefly then began to rise, breathing heavy waves of snow in all directions. Inside the firefly, Thamos controlled the vehicle. He spoke to the others, “Operation Moonlight has begun.” Milo watched as the ground left them, and he caught a glimpse of Lyrah, entering the scene. She stood by Abraham, watching up.

  “Come,” said Abraham, turning back towards the camp. “You’ll be in the Forest with Farhisk.” Lyrah watched him walk, and looked back at the firefly, now drifting far above the trees. She held a cold dread in her eyes. No.

  -----

  With stomps of thunder, the metal men came forth from the mist. Some rusted from weather, others a shiny new silver. They left harrowing prints in the snow as they marched. An intense red glow emitted from their eye-lights, locked onto the souls of their enemy.

  Abraham looked to his left, at Oslo, prepared to strike, equipped with his newest set of armor. This set was not silver like before, it was made of gold with small engravings of various icons and lined with thin strips of black and red. It was heavy, and could block away more than twice his previous set of armor could hold. Abraham was content with Oslo’s stance and then turned to his right, at Lyrah. He then glanced behind him, and saw the overwhelming mass of lynxes, dressed in silver armor and armed with the most deadly blades. Many had old wounds that told of previous battles but had risen from hiding on this day with the courage to fight again on this day. Abraham looked back to the frozen bay, where now the metal men were advancing faster in the distance.

  He then spoke out to his army without taking his gaze off of the bay. “The daylight is coming.”

  THE CLASH

  At first it was an exciting moment, seeing the mass of lynxes and rebel soldiers unleash a powerful battle cry. The metal men were in the distance, but the first strike came quickly. A silver arrow came clean through the head of a lynx, splitting the skull down the middle. The cries and shouts of the rebels instantly ceased, for the sight of the lynx collapsing before its own destroyed head was incredibly threatening. A few of them stepped back, for fear of coming into contact with the gruesome contents of the lynx. Despite this daunting, disheartening realization, Abraham lurched forward, and with a sound that could only be described as chaos, the mass began to move with him.

  The clash was an ear-splitting mix of sirens and the yelps of people in pain. All around, characters of both factions fell to the ice within a stunning couple of seconds. Abraham had taken one of the first heads, torn clean off of a rusty metal man body. He had taken his group straight into the mist, the center of the ice. While staying in formation, the lynxes that followed him were accurate in their kills, making them unstoppable.

  Oslo sprinted across the ice with all his power. To his right, a rebel soldier fell to the ice as the result of a deadly arrow and to his left another suffered the same. Directly ahead of him a metal man held some sort of strange mechanism in its arm, direct towards Oslo. He leaped up and planted his steel claws firmly in the eye-lights of the metal man, taking it down in that single strike. Another lynx came from the fog and attempted to finish the collapsing enemy, but was stopped when the metal man’s powerful fist struck the lynx’s skull. The lynx fell and lost control of its footing on the glistening ice. Oslo turned swiftly. Just as the lynx regained control a brutal, metal arm struck the lynx’s neck, cracking the bones and ending him instantly. Oslo then struck a final blow to the metal man’s deranged face. He quickly rushed away to continue his objective, avoiding the pool of lynx blood that was before him.

  Abraham screamed in triumph as he crushed the remains of a metal man that now lay thick in the snow and ice. A sudden shadow came into view, he noticed. It was a screaming man, a parliament member. Why is he in battle? Despite his astonishment, Abraham ran forwards towards the man with power. Suddenly a blade of silver was thrust towards his face, but was avoided with his swift skil
ls. He didn’t have time to see the man that was attacking him, instead he raised his claws and leaped up on his hind legs to strike him. His right paw made contact with the man’s shoulder and a loud cracking sound came from the impact. The man screamed, but showed no signs of surrender. Abraham launched himself up again, but was blocked and struck down by the man’s blade. His swing was strong. Abraham then tried again, and again once more, but was blocked both times.

  Then the man swung straight down at Abraham’s helmet, striking it at the side and creating a large scratch. The attack had stunned Abraham, but he was quickly on the rise, swinging both his paws at the man. He was stricken profoundly, blood was drawn from his face, and he took a couple steps back. Before Abraham began his next attack, the man pulled out another blade from his side. It seemed like it was just manifested from thin air. Where did that come from? The parliament member stood up, courage driving him, strengthening him, and he raised each blade. Blood poured from the wounds on his face, his hat on the bounds of shredded material.

  Abraham stood back a moment to prepare, but before he struck, another shadow came from the mist. It was the Tarrian. For the first time, the parliament member seemed to be frightened, but he attempted to dismiss it and show only rage. Tarrian walked around the man towards Abraham, and they nodded at each other in silent agreement. The attack was already in mind. It was a moment of dreadful anticipation, then in a sudden movement they executed their attack. Abraham leapt up at the man with his jaws wide open and his paws outstretched firmly in front of him, as Tarrian bolted around to the man’s back side. Abraham’s battle claws landed on both of the upright blades, which were being unsteadily held by the man. The weight of Abraham’s blow broke the man’s blocking attempt, forcing him to collapse on the ice next to Tarrian. Tarrian then leaped at him to strike.