“Now!” Burton yelled. It felt right to follow the momentum and might of the trolls.
The men of the Resistance, both Ikarus and Graleon alike, charged the army of mages and hybrids.
Burton took Montague by the arm. Simon Atikan and a dozen other Graleon knights formed a circle around them.
Above, a plethora of gargoyles escaped from Rayne’s wrath and were sweeping down, taking men up into the sky and dropping them from high altitudes. Montague gasped. He was horrified by the guttural screams of men falling to their deaths, the sounds of limbs breaking.
Spiders were still scurrying from the preoccupied trolls, eating dead bodies and biting the living to death.
The circle of safety within soldiers was thinning; the men surrounding Burton and Montague were now outnumbered by spiders. Even the trolls couldn’t contain them. To Burton’s left there was a large, hairy-legged spider that had a Graleon soldier clutched by the legs. It climbed up to his belly and was about to slam its pincers into his gut. But Burton shot a small spark from the tip of Vandagelle, and the arachnid exploded. Then, the rest of the spiders targeted him and Montague. Although Burton was weak and limited in what he could do, his words were just as dangerous as his wand. “Vacuuma!” he shouted, trouncing the rushing spiders with a single word. Their bodies shriveled and collapsed like their innards were sucked out of them.
“Sensei!” Montague shouted, pulling on Burton’s robe. “Simon!” He pointed.
When Burton turned, he saw the shadow of a gargoyle diving down on his son, its talons extended. Before Burton could react, the beast snared Simon by the knight’s shoulder plates, lifting him up into the smoke-filled sky.
The human in Burton wanted to aim his wand at the flying beast, but if he did, the spiders would close in on him and Montague. And Montague was most important. All of this, the reason why Burton had incarnated, was to connect the carrier of the Volpi gene to the Nekrum ship. Since Montague was the carrier of this generation, he was the only one who could end the Nekrums’ madness.
Before Burton was forced to choose, Indrid Cole, the count of Grale, jumped from the back of the giant cat, Apollo, and grabbed Simon’s legs, causing the flying beast to fall to the ground. Maul, the larger cat from the Ikarus arena, joined the offense. The cats mangled the gargoyle before biting it in half. Roaring deep and loud, their tongues and teeth dripped a mixture of saliva and blood. Their power revitalized the Resistance.
With the strength of Graleon steel, Illyrium-forged armor, the trolls, and the light of Vandagelle, the rushing spiders were slaughtered. But the mages and dead elders were closing in.
Burton was thankful for what Indrid had done for his son. It was good to see the disgruntled count join the Resistance, he thought. The spell that Indrid had been under must have worn off, lost its potency. There was no influence left lingering. He was now clear-minded.
Indrid looked doleful, almost in tears. He looked to Montague. “Please, forgive me. I lost my way. How could I have been so foolish to lock you away like that?”
“There is nothing to forgive. You did what you thought was right. I’m just glad that you found your way back.” Montague smiled.
“As am I,” Burton included.
“But it wasn’t right,” said Indrid.
“Everyone makes mistakes; even the most respected kings. I understand that my actions caused a great suspicion,” Montague said.
“No such thing as coincidence, right?” Indrid asked, uplifted.
“Right.” said Montague. “I hope you know now that I would never do anything to compromise the kingdom of Men.”
“I do,” said Indrid.
Between heavy breaths, Burton nearly collapsed. The old wizard steadied himself holding Montague’s shoulder. He caught a drop of blood with his finger before it dripped from his nose.
MONTAGUE LA-ROSE was overjoyed to see Indrid again. The young man that looked back at him reflected the boy that he knew and raised. Indrid’s eyes held remorse. But Montague placed no blame.
Simon and Indrid went off, fighting the last werewolf pack. Apollo and Maul hunted the alpha.
Burton placed Vandagelle in Montague’s hand. “Take her,” he said then kneeled to catch his breath.
Montague hesitated. The wand scared him more than it made him feel safe. He didn’t think that he would be able to control the colossal power of Vandagelle. “Sensei, I can’t. What if—”
“Take it!” Burton shouted with a gravelly voice. “You can. You have to. There is no ‘what if’. Put your steel away. She’ll guide you.”
From the moment Montague accepted the wand, he felt connected to it. It knew him intimately as if it had imbedded in his mind, fusing with his thoughts. Vandagelle shared the same master as he.
A dead elder with a large, flat forehead and pointy teeth like a shark came charging, leading a group of mages toward them.
Montague pointed the wand, but it did nothing. “What do I do?” he asked, turning to Burton.
“Show her what you want her to do,” Burton said in a tired breath. An Ikarus soldier took him by the arm to help him stand. But he collapsed. He fell unconscious.
“Show her?” The thought seemed ludicrous. How do you show a wand how to ‘do’ something? How can I communicate with it? Although inanimate, Montague knew that Vandagelle possessed a special intelligence, one of the spiritual realm. He yelled, “Fire! Attack! Shoot!” But it did nothing. Then, he tried to plead. “Please! Protect us! I beg you.” Again, it did nothing. A cold shiver rushed down his spine. He could now hear the grunting of the blood-thirsty spell casters closing in. Finally, at wits end, he shouted, “By God, I command you! Fire!” Yet still, the wand did nothing.
Hopelessness had set in. Montague believed that he was going to die, right there with Burton, in the middle of the battlefield. The Ikarus soldier propping Burton set him down and prepared to engage.
Now a stone’s throw away, the dead elder, riding a large konganroo, began swinging a chain above his head, a blood-coated spiked ball at its end. The mages who followed hissed and carried shaved-bone daggers in both fists.
Montague’s heart was beating hard. This wasn’t how he wanted to die—to fail at the most important mission. The Nekrums wouldn’t stop torturing this world until they found the Volpi gene. Planet Naan’s fate rested within his blood. He was about to accept defeat when he closed his eyes and visualized a wishful attack. How wonderful it would be, he thought, if a burst of energy just launched from the wand. He remembered that Burton would always say her when referring to Vandagelle as if she were alive. So he spoke directly to Vandagelle. His heart fluttered as the words were caught in his throat. Vandagelle, I know I am not worthy of you. But I am the one holding you. And if there is anything left, any hope at all in the human race, it is now that I need you to hear me. Montague felt a power, unlike anything he’d ever felt before, surge within him. He felt like a hundred men. “Unleash!” he roared. Suddenly, Vandagelle flashed and shot a bolt of lightning. It burned through the entire crowd of the incoming enemy. Even the dirt beneath their feet was charred.
The Ikarus soldier nodded, relieved. He attended back to Burton, taking his arm while Montague led them forward.
Indrid and Simon had slain the hybrid wolf clan and rejoined them.
Ahead, Demitri, the host, waited patiently outside the perimeter of the savage violence. He watched with amusement and ate a plum as he waited. As few men reached him, the monster he rode upon split them with its crustacean claws on his command and bit men to pieces. Its husky yowl spooked the Resistance’s horses. Its stinger stabbed and flung men through the air like pieces of lint.
Rayne descended from the sky, joining the ground battle.
Montague took notice to his dark cloak. It wasn’t woven of ordinary fabric. It moved like it had a mind of its own, grabbing mages and slamming them into the ground. He looked majestic. It was only in Rayne’s presence that Montague felt safe. Burton was barely mobile.
In an attempt to finish the massive blow the young wizard and the trolls had created, the men of the Resistance stormed past Montague, who was kept safely with Rayne, tucked between the angel’s wings along with a weakened Burton.
The count of Grale and Sir Simon led the march. There was an exchange of looks between Indrid and Rayne. In their eyes, Montague could see that they made peace; Indrid apologized, and Rayne accepted.
Demitri shouted to the rest of his clan to attack the wizards and the rest of the Resistance. All hybrids, mages, dead elders, spiders, and ghords targeted the incoming metal. More and more swarms of gargoyles flew out from the dark ship now toppling over into the sand.
Rayne manifested a long staff with five intertwining circles at its tip. He looked to Simon and Indrid, “Keep them safe.” With a field of energy surrounding him, he lunged ahead. He crashed through the enemy’s frontline, clearing a path to Demitri. Then the angel ascended into the sky once again.
Montague’s path lay before him. But what would he do when he reached Demitri?
Demitri chortled at them as Montague, a wounded Burton, Simon, Indrid, and others approached. Burton limped in front of the warriors that were guarding him.
“I told you that one day I would impress you, Burton.” Demitri, the Nekrum’s host, said. His eyes blackened. “How about now? Does this meet your standards?” he chuckled.
“This is disgusting. My friend, Demitri, would never do this,” said Burton.
“Oh but it is in fact a dark desire of Demitri’s,” the host smiled. “Yes! You see, he helped us create all of our lovely family of weapons, willingly.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Burton said. “I know he fought you every step of the way. He is still fighting.”
Simon and Indrid kept the surrounding mages and elders at bay, Apollo by their side. Maul had stormed off into battle.
Although Montague carried Vandagelle, the most powerful weapon he’d ever seen, he still didn’t feel safe. Rayne was in the sky, and he knew that Burton couldn’t protect him. But there his sensei was, a man—an angel—who’d lived five hundred years, standing in front of him, guarding him until his dying breath.
“Goodbye, Burton Lang,” said Demitri.
The monster lunged. As Montague pushed Burton aside, Vandagelle lit up. A bright beam extended out from her tip and down from her base, creating a staff of light. To Demitri’s shock, Montague hacked at the beast’s skulking arms and quickly brought it to the ground. But at the end of its plated dermis, the tail, still thrashing, whipped around from behind. The stinger pierced Burton in the stomach. He instantly fell to the ground.
“Sensei!” Montague shouted. The light of Vandagelle receded. He ran to Burton’s side.
A long shadow grew in front of him. The stinger rose up for another strike. This time it pointed at Montague. It sprang fast.
Midair, the monster’s tail suddenly became lax. Rayne had slammed his staff straight through its head after swooping down from above. Streams of lightning coursed through its spliced body.
Montague tended Burton’s wound.
Demitri stood. He no longer had a giant beast to defend him. But his confidence remained unwavering. The Nekrums didn’t care about Demitri’s life. They knew that the marble would just go to someone else to take up the host’s role and do its duty.
“Now, how may I say this politely?” he said to Rayne. “If you don’t run, far, far away, right now, I will slaughter you and trap your soul. And I’ll use it to create a weapon so powerful…well,” he laughed. “It would be just as powerful as Burton’s wand. Go. Take your woman and live peacefully. We’ll leave if you hand us the gene.”
A cloud of green energy swirled around the top circle of the king’s staff. “No, Loche. You won’t leave; not until the rest of humanity suffers.”
It was the second time Montague had ever heard that name: Loche, the Nekrum mastermind. After meeting the trolls, who had saved his life and were also Nekrums, he had no objection to what Eggward had told him that their race’s sinister motives were driven by madmen. Perhaps it was a single madman or woman.
“Unfortunate,” Demitri said. He held out the marble and summoned a series of glowing orange spheres that orbited his body, spouting flames. Motes of fire whirled around him like a tornado. “This is your last chance, boy. Do you really want to die for these people?”
“I’m not going to die. I’m going to live—for her. I’m going to have a life among these people and protect them from the very beings that you serve,” said Rayne.
Demitri held out his hands cupping the marble and unleashed the orbs, “I think not.”
Rayne pointed his staff, holding it with two hands. A green liquid light shot out from its circled tip, sizzling on impact with the fire orbs of Demitri’s negative energy. The two opposite charges of the wizard and the Nekrum’s host drove into each other where the point of convergence sparked. The exchanges of polarized energy illuminated the battlefield with holographic reflections.
Montague knew that to harness the elements was the greatest accomplishment in the realm of sorcery, and these two entities of such magnitude embodied the skill at its best. But witnessing Rayne harness the light of the heavens was like watching a miracle.
The glory of Rayne’s light was too stifling for the Nekrum’s host to handle. The wizard walked straight into Demitri without resistance. His green aura became brighter and brighter, hotter and hotter, until its hue paled into a brilliant, white light, blinding to all eyes that gazed upon it. Once he reached the host, there was a luminous explosion.
It was like the sun had suddenly risen. Every soldier and mage stopped and turned to the light. Even the last of the creeping beasts were stunned by the phenomenon.
Demitri was hurled from the blast. He looked badly injured.
“No!” Montague shouted, running to his friend.
The black marble sat in the palm of Demitri’s hand, the crucible of the host’s power. A dying flame that tried to fire from it faded. But he was alive and conscious.
“Give me the marble,” Montague said.
Demitri stayed still. He was breathing heavily. His hand closed into a fist, holding the marble within a thickset gauntlet.
Montague unsheathed his dagger. “I’m so sorry, my friend,” he said. With a single slash he cut off Demitri’s hand that gripped the marble. Once it fell, the small stone rolled right in front of him like it was seeking him. It shined, flaunting opulence. Before he picked it up, his life flashed before him. Born a farmer, he’d grown up seeding fields, feeding cattle, plowing the spring harvest. Then, in the midst of his life’s quest to protect a sacred family, he’d been promoted from an agricultural servant to the speaker of the new capital of Men at Ikarus, only to be shunned by the political game years after, falling once again to peasantry. But now, the next step of his life could be the last. He didn’t know what would happen when he let the marble consume him. What if neither Rayne nor Burton could help me when I become possessed? What if I become the Nekrum’s host indefinitely? Or, What if I die?
But there was no choice.
Montague confronted his worst fears and picked up the marble. According to his sensei it was the only way to defeat the Nekrums. Although Burton had lied to him about many things before, including his true identity, he believed that his teacher was truthful. Burton would die for him and do anything to protect him. The old wizard had sworn to him that he’d exhausted every other option.
The marble burned into Montague’s palm. His eyes rolled back. He became entranced, completely unaware of his surroundings. Like a worm burrowing into the dirt, he felt the Nekrum ghost slither through his veins and into his mind, analyzing his biological makeup. Then, he heard a gasp.
“It was you…all this time?” the murky voice asked. “A bastard?”
The entity, trying to control him, was stupefied at who and what it had discovered.
“I may be a bastard, but I’m a Volpi, descendent of Gabriel. And I am the ca
rrier of which you seek,” said Montague.
The hour of Water’s Night had passed, and the light of two moons returned.
BURTON LANG woke with his face flat in the cold dirt. The old man’s heavy eyes were blurry and his cloak was covered in blood at the stomach where he’d been envenomed. A hungry hemotoxic swam through his blood. He knew it. As it became harder to breathe, he could feel it dissolving his insides. The pain was torture.
He slowly turned over to find Rayne standing above him. Burton’s mouth was full of grainy mud. But behind Rayne he saw Montague on the ground having a seizure. His apprentice had taken the marble. He was connected.
“Take me to him,” said Burton, his voice hoarse. “I need to go now before they extract the gene and annihilate the planet.” He tried to lift himself but failed. “You have to carry me.” He was still disoriented.
“No,” said Rayne. “I’m going.”
“My life is over here,” Burton said. He tried to get up, but he fell back.
“You’re not strong enough. We can’t take any chances. If we fail, the planet is doomed.”
“I’m so sorry, my friend,” Burton said. “I wanted nothing more than to see you and Anna live out a full life together here on Naan.”
“Don’t be,” Rayne said. “I’ll find her again.” But now, he needed to get to Montague. “I’ll see you soon.”
The young wizard rushed over to Montague, who was still shaking and rolling. Rayne stabilized him by pressing down on his chest with his left hand, securing his back to the ground. With his right hand, he placed his cloth wrapped palm on Montague’s forehead. The angel closed his eyes, spread his wings, and breathed in deep, in and out, as his body slowly turned into pure light.
Rayne’s physical makeup dissolved into a photonic mist. It condensed then funneled into Montague’s breath.
Montague’s limbs twisted and bent. Burton knew that it must hurt him, but Rayne, in his soul form, had to unchain the Nekrum’s marble from Montague’s mind first. Then, from the top of Montague’s head, a bright string of white light shot into the sky, sweeping aside the clouds. The angel’s soul left Montague’s body and rode the string of light, ascending up to the auburn light from where it was tethered.
Under a Veil of Gods Page 27