Its red eyes locked onto his and he felt himself freeze. The Wind Totem. Damn, he's big. Energy filled the air, and Cyrus knew his army was still at a distance – that Vara would keep them back. Just a moment longer. The Wind Totem glowed brighter than the other pegasi, and was getting lighter by the moment. He looked at its red eyes until his could bear the growing brightness no more, and an explosion of light filled his vision, even with his eyes closed –
Chapter 23
I have to hold them back, Vara thought as she watched the pegasi stomping on Cyrus, until that damned Wind Totem shows himself for the kill. “Hold! We must hold our position until the Wind Totem reveals itself!”
The winged horses attacked with a ragged ferocity, and she could not see the black-armored warrior through the half-dozen pegasi milling around him. Come on, she thought. Show yourself already. An inexplicable urge came over her and she started forward, but felt an iron hand clamp down on her upper arm. She looked back to see the gray eye of the Ghost staring into hers.
“Act now, and you nullify his sacrifice,” Alaric cautioned. “Wait a moment.”
Her shoulders clenched, and her feet wanted to charge across the ground but she restrained herself, waiting. She held up her hand to her right, holding back Terian as another light appeared above the herd of pegasi, a horse more massive than any she could imagine. It stared down into the circle of its fellows and gave off a glow brighter than the rest before exploding into a flash of blinding light that made her look away while a shockwave knocked her back a few steps.
“Let's go!” Terian's words came in a shout as he shoved her arm aside.
“There is no need to hurry,” she replied. Her voice was dull, bereft of feeling. “He is already dead.”
“What!?”
“He is dead,” she said, the lack of inflection in her voice belying every emotion tearing at her from inside. “He went ahead to draw it out and thus spare the rest of us from the shockwave that the Wind Totem uses when it reveals itself.”
“You knew?” Terian's eyes darkened and his head seemed to shrink between the spikes on his shoulders. “You knew and you let him be slaughtered?”
“We all have our sins,” she said, hand on her sword. “We must retrieve his body for resurrection after we've defeated these pegasi.”
The Wind Totem hung in the air before them, ringed by a dozen pegasi that took flight one by one, leaving behind in the dirt the body of Cyrus. Niamh gasped behind her. You stupid, stubborn man, Vara thought. A fearsome, bellowing warcry filled the air and it took her a moment to realize that it came from her as she charged toward the pegasi. Arrows and spells filled the skies above her, and the pegasi scattered, three falling to the ground from the ferocity of the first Sanctuary volley.
She brought her sword down on the first pegasus she ran past as it was struggling to its feet and struck a killing blow. She watched as Terian's axe cleaved the next one's head off and then saw the dragoon, Longwell, arc his lance through the air into another pegasus, catching it in the wing and causing it to spiral to the ground, where it was finished by the desert man, Scuddar In'shara. Martaina delivered a coup de grace to the last one writhing on the ground with her short swords.
“Is this thing going to blast us all now that we're near it?” Terian said from beside her.
“No, it will take several hours to recoup the spent energy before it can perform the shockwave again.” She pointed at the Wind Totem. “But we should make killing it our first priority!” It swept through the air above them, flying in a tight circle.
“Great, well, you kill the last two pegasi, and maybe the big guy will land.”
Vara turned and vaulted, sword in hand, reversing her grip in midair and plunged it into the neck of a pegasus that swooped down to attack Martaina while her back was turned.
“Yeah... uh,” Terian said in mild surprise, “like that.”
A volley of arrows filled the skies above them once more, followed by a blast of spells. The last pegasus fell to the ground and was dispatched, this time by Aisling, daggers twirling from her fingers. In spite of being hit by a flurry of spells, the Wind Totem remained aloft.
A burst of fire flew through the air, then another. The Wind Totem's wing was engulfed in flames, burning away. Vara looked back to see Niamh's hand inflamed, and a long, scorching blast of fire flew from her and engulfed the Wind Totem, who disappeared in the blaze as it fell to the ground. Niamh's spell reached its end and she fell back, waxy pale, but the Wind Totem was grounded and struggling. The druid's eyes fell to Martaina, who was nearby. “How's that compare to a wizard?”
A host of Sanctuary warriors and rangers fell upon the Wind Totem, its white coat burned away and bloody, scorched muscle and sinew showing where once the fairest white hide had been. Vara did not hesitate: she leaped into the fray and brought her sword down. Even with all her strength behind the blow, she did not kill it in one strike – repeated blows finally brought the Wind Totem's struggle to an end and drew a ragged cheer from the throats of the Sanctuary army.
Vara's eyes fell to the black armored body nearby. A tremor ran through her hands, down her legs as she resisted the urge to run to it. “Curatio.” Her voice came out as a low, croaking sound. “Please resurrect Cyrus.” The healer nodded and trotted off to where a small crowd had gathered around the body of Sanctuary's General.
Vara surveyed the damage around them. The pegasi lay dead, struck down by a vengeful Sanctuary force. Her eyes fell on Niamh, still looking weak from exerting so much magical energy. Terian and Vaste stood next to her, each catching Vara's eye in turn. Terian turned to look at the group gathered around Cyrus, which included a near-hysterical Andren. Aisling and Larana both slunk around the edges of the crowd, sneaking furtive glances toward the downed warrior.
“You and Cyrus have kept a few secrets about your plans,” Alaric said, appearing beside her.
“We didn't want to worry anyone,” she breathed. “Someone was going to have to die on this island and he chose to run headlong into it.” Like the noble idiot that he is, she thought.
Alaric nodded and shifted his gaze to the horizon and the gate in the distance. “It's a shame he is bereft of magical talent in the eyes of the Leagues.” A mysterious smile hung on the Ghost's face. “He would have been a magnificent paladin.”
“Stubborn nobility alone does not make a paladin, Alaric,” she snapped back. “He has no crusade, no cause but the conquest of enemies and the acquisition of pretty baubles and better equipment to aid his own aggrandizement.”
Alaric did not respond at first, prompting Vara to look to make certain he had heard her. “I think you misjudge his intentions. While treasure and conquest certainly motivate him, I suspect that Cyrus could find a cause that he could get behind had he been inculcated in the ways of the Holy Brethren, as you have.”
She snorted. “His only other focus is retribution for the loss of Narstron.” A worried sigh escaped her, and she looked at Alaric to see if he had noticed. A slight smile peeked from beneath his helm, telling her he indeed had. “I wonder whether he will move beyond the petty desire for revenge or if it will consume him completely.”
“You speak as though that desire has never filled your heart.”
“I made the right choice,” she snapped. “I set aside my desire for vengeance –”
Alaric interrupted. “I know. I was there during the time you spent trying to decide whether to pursue the reckless course. But you forget that you had counsel during that period, forewarning you about the perils you would face if you sought revenge.”
“I have not forgotten,” she said archly. “I remember standing in the doorway of Sanctuary, sword in hand, ready to set out in slaughter for the wrongs heaped upon me.” Her voice softened. “And I remember you stopping me.” Her tone rose again. “But he is different, Alaric –”
“We are all the same, you, he and I,” Alaric chided. “We all have reasons for wanting to punish those that have wronged us, we
have all made ill choices that lead us to the places where we were wronged, and we all have the ability to walk away rather than give in to hatred and obsess over it day after day, letting it consume our lives.”
“We are not the same, he and I,” she said with a snarl.
“So you believe him doomed to the path of vengeance?”
“I did not say that. I do not know.” She sighed. “It is perhaps too soon to be sure.”
“If it is any comfort, I still say that about you.” Vara's head turned to find the Ghost chuckling under his breath. “I also say it about myself, if it helps.” He turned to look at her. “Do you think that if Talikartin the Guardian crossed my path today, that I would not have to consider my actions? I believe that should... he... cross your path, you would do the same.”
“He...” she said with a pronounced air of superiority, “has crossed my path. Twice. And he yet breathes.”
“When not surrounded by his lackeys. When you have a chance at cold-blooded revenge. There is, after all, a difference between killing and murder.”
“Does that distinction matter to the victim of either?” Vara asked with a shake of her head.
“Perhaps not. But for us, it is an important distinction, because a noble guardian fights with a code of honor at all times. Shallow pursuits such as killing for base reasons – robbery, revenge – are to be avoided, as you well know. Justice, honor, defense of those who cannot defend themselves; these are noble reasons to engage in battle. You know that. I believe he will come to see that as well, before it is too late.” Alaric nodded at her and moved off through the Sanctuary army.
A moment of silence filled the air around her, interrupted by Terian. “I haven't seen the challenge yet. Where's the challenge?”
“The challenge, you nimrod, is steadily increasing, in case you failed to notice. We also have a much larger army than even Amarath's Raiders possessed when last I was here with them. But we have had quite a few deaths thus far. It will get worse as we proceed.”
Her eyes flew unintentionally to the place where the warrior in the blackened armor was sitting upright. He tried to stand and was rebuffed by Curatio. Her pulse was racing, and she let out a mental sigh of relief when she saw him moving once more.
“You should go check on him,” Terian said with a nasty grin.
“You have known me too long, dark knight, and because of that, you think you know something that you do not.”
“Oh, I'm sorry.” Terian shook his head while rolling his eyes. “You two are the most ridiculous, stubborn fools I've ever seen. You're so damned combative by nature that you'd rather fight when it's clear to everyone you'd prefer doing something much more pleasant.”
A flush of crimson hit her cheeks along with a burning sensation in her stomach. “You're a moronic one, aren't you? Perhaps he has spoken to me of such possibilities and I have rebuffed him. Did you ever consider that?”
“I would consider that likely. You have always been your own worst enemy, after all.”
“I have much more dangerous enemies than myself,” she said, eyes narrowed. “But you won't find one more dangerous than me, Terian, and you would do well to consider that before speaking.”
“Oh, my,” he said with an unconcerned air. “I give you deep and inspiring insight into your own soul and you become defensive and tell me we're not friends anymore?” He favored her with a wounded look that gave his already pinched face even more of a squeezed appearance that relaxed after he'd made his point. “If you're sensitive about it, all you need to say is, 'this topic of conversation is closed, why don't you move along and chop some wood with your hatchet' and I'll be on my merry way, keeping my opinions to myself.”
She let the words hang in the air for a moment before replying, still staring him down through narrowed eyes. “This topic of conversation is closed. Why don't you go take that hatchet and apply it to sensitive parts of your anatomy with aggressive force from now until morning?”
“Ouch. You're not even nice anymore.”
She turned and began to walk away. “I never was,” she said without looking back. Upon walking away, she hesitated. Tend to the army or check on the General? A moment's pause gave her no aid in making her decision. The army is in my charge; they are my responsibility; I need to be sure we are recovering and ready to move. Finally, despite the best intentions of her head, her feet carried her directly to Cyrus.
Chapter 24
Cyrus watched as Vara approached him, stopping for a moment to speak with Erith. I feel sick, he thought. I'll never get used to this.
She stuttered for a moment before speaking. “I... uh... we did well against the pegasi and the Wind Totem; only a few deaths. Erith informs me that we will be ready to move in a few minutes.”
His head lolled back and forth before turning up to look at her. “Thank you. I take it everything went smoothly while I was out?”
“Of course.” She stood ramrod straight in front of him, searching for words. “I... am pleased to see you're all right.” She hesitated. “I was concerned.”
He rubbed his eyes. “I would have been too, if it had been someone else in my place.” He pulled himself gingerly to his feet.
“You should not be up yet.” Her voice was cross.
“You've never died, right? So you've never known the loving touch of a resurrection spell.”
“I hear it is quite unpleasant.” She paused. “Thus, you should rest before you throw yourself back into the fray.”
“Small price to pay for coming back from the dead. I've got a lot to do,” he said with a shake of the head. “There will be plenty of time to rest when I'm really dead.”
“An event which cannot happen soon enough,” came the acid voice of the Gatekeeper.
“Spare me your insults and open the next gate,” Cyrus said, dismissing the human. “And when this is over – I want the Edge of Repose.”
The Gatekeeper studied Cyrus. “You are the first to ask me for it. Very well: it shall be your prize if you complete the tasks set before you.”
“Thank you,” he said without any sincerity. “You may go now.”
A look of outrage crossed the face of the Gatekeeper upon being dismissed, but he folded upon himself and was gone.
“I didn't think he would be that easy to get rid of,” Vara said in amazement.
“He's not,” Cyrus replied. “I think he's humoring me.”
“Shall we proceed?” she asked. “Water is next.”
“I haven't forgotten,” he said, and marshaled the army into motion. A few minutes later they crossed through the next gate to find themselves at the edge of a lake that stretched into the distance. The water was dark, almost black, and nothing was visible beneath the surface. Cyrus felt the dust and rock beneath his feet turn to the dark sands of a beach. The water smelled, an odd, sulfuric stink, like rotting seaweed.
“Spell casters,” Cyrus called out. “I want you to hit this lake with every lightning spell you have.”
Thunder filled the air around them and lightning bolts flew from all directions, striking the lake; bolts of energy coursed across the surface, and a hum could be heard from the water. The stink of ozone filled the air.
“You don't believe that will work, do you?” The voice of the Gatekeeper did not even turn Cyrus's head as he studied the surface of the water.
“No. But it was worth a try.” Cyrus turned back to the army. “I need Terian, Thad, Cass, Vara and Alaric with me. The rest of you, stay back.” His eyes caught another face in the crowd. “Menlos Irontooth, come with me as well. Leave your wolves.”
Menlos, the northman, came forward, a smile on his face. “Rather feel like the first whore picked in the house for the evening.”
“You'll likely feel like one afterward, too,” Terian cracked.
“Charming,” Vara commented.
“Do you intend on having us swim, brother?” Alaric asked Cyrus.
“I doubt that gearing you up for a dance performance
will get you across the lake,” the Gatekeeper mocked. “Although it will surely have more effect than whatever you have planned.”
“I do,” Cyrus said, ignoring the taunts. “There's a monster in the depths and I don't think it will be efficient to bring the whole army. You can all swim, correct?”
“I can,” Terian said with a note of protest. “But I don't wish to.”
“Fine,” Cyrus nodded. “You can stay behind and guard the spell casters until we get back.”
Thad looked at the dark knight in amazement. “Are you a coward?”
Terian cast a loathing look at the red-armored warrior. “All right, you sold me; I'm coming.”
“Vara, care to explain what we can we expect from this creature?” Cyrus nodded toward her.
“It is a very large eel. He has thick skin,” she began. “His eyes are a weak point but will be difficult to hit.”
“Eel?” Menlos asked. “Isn't that like a snake?”
Vara tried to disguise her irritation but failed. “It would only appear to be a snake to the ignorant. It is an eel; it has a vertically flat tail that allows it to swim.”
“Snakes swim, don't they?” Menlos's earnest face showed that he had not caught Vara's annoyance.
“It is highly mobile,” she continued, ignoring him. “It is difficult to catch and difficult to hit.”
“How did you defeat it in the past?” Terian asked.
“Very much like this,” she answered. “You don't chance sending your force across the water until it's dead because it... jumps.”
“I'm sorry... it does what?” Thad's eyes were wide, fixated on Vara.
“It jumps. It can leap from the water over a hundred feet into the air. Use Falcon's Essence and it still devours your army. If you send them all into the water...” Her words trailed off. “All but the most advanced spell casters are useless underwater; only those that know sublingual casting have any effect, and only then if they stay away from casting lightning, ice or fire spells.”
The Sanctuary Series: Volume 02 - Avenger Page 18