Destiny

by Jason A. Cheek

  Facing the rune-powered armor, I ignored Enelya’s screams for me to run as she whipped out her tambos. The situation was hopeless, but I refused to give up or to leave them behind to die in my place. Not that it was even possible for me to choose otherwise. As the golden glow faded away from my skin, I gave thanks to Ukko. Facing the enemy, I raised my Katanas into the air when suddenly the meadow erupted around us.

  Immediately I understood what was happening. Spinning around, I tackled Enelya and Argus to the ground, protecting them with my armored back as the wave of destruction washed over us. The detonations were deafening. As the dirt and debris blasted into the air, I felt the animalistic terror of my charges as they tried to escape the terrible sound, but I held them fast. Hearing the fury of the noise beginning to fade around us, I sheathed my blades and sprang to my feet dragging Enelya and Argus after me.

  Overwhelmed by their insane fear, Enelya and Argus fought clawing and biting at my armored arms to break free of my grasp as I dragged them through the cloud of choking debris. There was no time to calm them down. In the hazy light, I saw the irregular shapes of the Ironidium Knights scattered across the ground from where they’d been blasted from their feet. While the barrage would have killed a squad of Tuonellian Hulks, the Knights were relatively unhurt. Many of them were already beginning to rise back to their feet. We only had a few seconds to get away in the confusion.

  Coming out of the thick haze, I saw the Rangers lined up on the hill above us with their runic bows bent back ready to fire. Gathering up Enelya and Argus under my arms, I sprinted for the hilltop as the clanking sounds of pursuit rang out behind us. A moment later the hulking armored forms of Ironidium Knights started appearing behind us.

  Immediately flaring shafts of light leaped from the Rangers’ bows. I had heard about the weapons from my Grandsire, but this was the first time I’d seen them in action. The glowing arrows were made up of pure energy. The air sizzled as they shot overhead to rain down on our pursuers. Again the ground heaved, detonations reverberating behind us as the Ironidium Knights were once again blasted off their feet.

  A ragtag line of Wild Elven survivors waited behind the Rangers with Lúthien as I ran up to Tiberius and Prince Dorthonion. Enelya and Argus were still shaking off their shock as I set them on the ground as power began thrumming through the air. As soon as I turned around, a loud ripping sound rang out as thick roots shot up from out of the ground across the meadow. Rippling into the air like tentacles from a massive sand creature, the roots wrapped themselves around the knights as Lúthien stepped forward. Thrusting her hands out with her fingers spread wide, the High Elf yelled out casting her spell.

  “Palmure!”

  Thick web-like strands shot out from Lúthien’s fingertips across the field. The substance instantly thickened into fibrous cords that spread out even further from the magical power of the High Elf’s concentration, until it looked like a massive fishnet had been thrown across the knights below.

  The power Lúthien was pushing out was unbelievable. I could feel the energy pulse draining her body as her back arched in agony from the effort of casting the spell. Before I could stop her from pushing herself too far, Tiberius was at her side speaking softly.

  “That’s enough, Lúthien. You can release the spell.” The Elf girl’s body began to shake as her mouth opened in a silent scream, but still the spell kept on growing. Urgently Tiberius shook her shoulders. “Lúthien your killing yourself, release the spell! Lúthien!”

  The webbing stopped as Lúthien suddenly collapsed, releasing the spell as she fell back into Tiberius’ waiting arms. Below us, the entire force of Ironidium Knights was blanketed in the thick white mesh. You could see areas where the webbing pulsed with movement as the trapped Knights fought to break free of the sticky mess, but for now, they were stopped.

  As I helped Enelya and Argus to their feet, movement next to me caught my eye as an anxious Tiberius strode up with the unconscious High Elf cradled in his muscular arms. The Minotaur’s dark brown eyes were filled with consternation as I gripped his shoulder firmly. “Don’t worry. She’s fine, just exhausted.” The tension visibly drained from his wide shoulders as a musical voice called out behind us.

  “Paladin, those spells won’t hold the knights for long.”

  Meeting Prince Dorthonion’s clear blue eyes I couldn’t help but smile back. Even though the Forest Elf had to be over a hundred years old, the rakish grin on his lips made him look much younger. “I know, which is why we’re moving out. Get your Rangers ready.”

  Turning to the injured Wild Elves and Wencis, I searched the distraught faces looking back at me until I found the one I was looking for. Striding up to the Spirit Mother I spoke quickly. “There is no time left. We must go to King Galdor now!”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Location Earth / Decanus Lar Sestius Natalinus:

  “Sustentaret scutum murum!” (Brace the shield wall!)

  “Sustentaret scutum murum!” (Brace the shield wall!)

  Bending with his knees, Decanus Lar Sestius Natalinus leaned forward putting his mass solidly behind the scuta held before him as the legionnaire behind him gripped the ring on the back of his Lorica Segmentata armor. Throwing his head back, Lar bellowed in defiance as the wave of claws and fangs crashed into their line.

  The crunching impact of the enemy against their shield wall was deafening as the screeching howls of the Tuonellian assault filled the air. Long-clawed hands fought to rip his scuta away as Lar dug his hooves into the stone while punching over the top of scuta with quick, deadly strikes of his gladius.

  For a long moment, the whole line shivered as they fought to hold back the enemy that fought to overpower them. Any break in their line and the Tuonellians would overrun them. Straining with all of his might, Lar fought to hold back the press of bodies, when a wave of deafening explosions on the other side of the shield wall lit up the darkness with blinding white light.

  Instantly Lar felt the line around him stabilize as the overwhelming press of the enemy faltered in confusion. As the legionnaires around him gave thanks to Akras, Lar glanced over his shoulder at the ragged human line behind them.

  These humans looked nothing like the dirty half-naked savages that had first welcomed them through the gate. Most notably these new humans appeared to be wearing some type of greenish brown uniform and armor. As he watched, the short redheaded female he’d saved earlier began calling out orders to the humans around her. At her command, they threw small gray objects over the shield wall into the screeching mass of Tuonellians. Once again the air shook as brilliant flashes of light lit up the darkness to the sounds of the enemy screeches.

  Immediately Lar felt the momentum of the battle shift as the press of the enemy advance suddenly lost momentum. As the strange black devices in the humans’ hands roared spitting yellow fire, Centurion Quintillius raised a wolf gauntlet into the air. The tinnearlian blade glowed with blue runic power as his deep bass rose over the din of combat.

  “Cum evocatio deficit salvandum oportet fratres nostros antequam iugulant pecudes. Purgare murum ad nutum et progredi!” (When the evocation fails we must save our brothers before they are slaughtered. Clear the wall at will and advance!)

  Slamming his shield into the screeching creatures in front of him, Lar’s gladius took the head off the nearest of the putrid beasts as the front rank of the Legion ferociously drove into the packed mass. Purple blood sprayed across his muzzle and armor as his blade repeatedly thrust and slashed through the creatures’ thick bony armor. Lar’s nostrils flared as the familiar berserker fury began welling up inside of him. Throwing his horns back he bellowed in defiance.

  “Ad nonam quidem legionem!” (For the Ninth Legion!) Up and down the line legionnaires took up the chant as they trampled the fallen enemy under their ironidium shod hooves. “Ad nonam quidem … Ad nonam quidem!” (For the Ninth … for the Ninth!)

  Claws and fangs lashed out at him in a wild frenzy as Lar advanced lo
ckstep with his brothers in arms. Together they began pushing the packed mass of Scourge back towards the outer ring of crystals with brute strength alone. Initially, the shock of their attack was enough to throw the Tuonellians in disorder, but about three-quarters of the way to the outer ring their momentum started to give away as their ranks thinned to a thin double-line of legionnaires.

  Lar’s fists clenched in frustration. Every time his gladius ripped through a Scourge three more were waiting to take its place. Sweat soaked his torso and coursed down his back in rivulets, mixing with blood from the jagged wounds on his arms and neck from where claws had found gaps in his armor. Ignoring his wounds Lar fought on.

  For any warrior exhaustion was the ever present enemy. Even for the Legions of the Imperium renowned for their strength and endurance, it was a serious problem. Imperium battle tactics were structured to ensure legionnaires remained fresh by having their front ranks fall back to the rear at regular intervals during a fight. A tactic that could be held for a day or two without a Paladin, but only if the bulls were veteran warriors. The Ninth had been fighting nonstop for over a week straight. An amazing feat in and of itself. But, whether or not he wanted to admit it, in his heart of hearts Lar knew the Ninth was no more. They’d simply lost too many of their brothers. Their Centuria was all that was left of the once mighty Legion. The rest had fallen defending the Gorgonian’s capital during the invasion.

  They were only a few yards away from the outer ring when the press of Scourge brought their advance to a complete stop. Fury burned in Lar’s chest. There was no way they were going to reach their brothers in time. There simply were not enough of them to fight their way to the outer ring.

  In horror, Lar watched the evocation spell fail as the stasis crystals began crumbling open before his eyes. He was going to be forced to watch his brothers be slaughtered, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, when suddenly Centurion Quintillius’ deep base bellowed over the din of combat.

  “Una formatio … una formation, progredi!” (Single formation … single formation, advance!)

  For a split-second Lar couldn’t believe his ears as the shrill battle whistles passed the order up and down the lines. Single rank? Legions never fought in single ranks! Around him, the Centuria responded without hesitation as the entire front line opened up for the rank behind to enter into the battle. In an enraged charge, the fresh legionnaires threw themselves at the enemy, ripping through the packed masses like a scythe through wheat. Hope blossomed in Lar’s chest as he once again forced his body to fight, throwing himself into the melee with a last burst of strength. Even though every muscle in his body screamed in agony, he slashed and punched with his gladius and scuta after his brothers like a rampaging bull, forcing the Scourge before him to fall back or die.

  In the blink of an eye, they’d made it. As the exhausted first rank pulled the newly released legionnaires to their hooves, Centurion Quintillius gave the order to fall back and reform. Staggering from his many wounds, Lar made his way to the rear of the formation with his contubernium and the rest of the warriors that had taken the brunt of the assault.

  Kneeling down on his haunches in exhaustion Lar proudly looked over his fellow legionnaires. Even though the Centaur barbarians of the plains might be the most numerous, the Forest Elves and Gorgonians the most powerful, it was the Legions of the Imperium that were the backbone of the Alliance of Aurenko. It was their strength and discipline that held the line during the Great War while the other races wrought their destruction upon the hordes of the enemy.

  The Klavikians had been correct in bringing the Alliance together. Without their eldritch knowledge in weapons and tactics none of the races would have survived the initial invasion. Even a lowly Decanus like him could see that simple truth. Their current situation was an exemplary example of this fact.

  The Ninth Legion had been the only force close enough to assist the Gorgonean Republic when they’d come under attack from the Tuonellians, but the Legion alone hadn’t been enough, even with the Gorgoneans’ magical weapons. Ilmarinen Ironwolf was leading a force to come to their aid, but the Horde managed to overrun the capital before the reinforcements could arrive. Their only chance of escape had been through the gate to Terra, but that haven had been short lived. The Tuonellians had used their magic to follow them through the portal.

  Hanging his head tiredly Lar prayed to Akras. Sometimes it felt like even their combined might wasn’t enough to stand against the Tuonellian Hordes. A gentle hand on his shoulder brought Lar out of his brooding. Lifting his head in exhaustion Lar looked into the intense emerald green eyes of the human he’d first saved upon waking. Again he was taken aback by her size and beauty. Although thin, she was almost as large as a heifer with meat in all the right places. He was just pushing her away when unbelievably she haltingly spoke in his people’s language.

  “Et est nomen meum Sergeant Classis … inquam medium Decanus Driscoll. Oportet operari simul ad superesse. (My name is Sergeant First Class … I mean Decanus Driscoll. We must work together to survive.

  Lar’s ears perked up in surprise as he re-evaluated the exotic looking female with fiery hair. “Vos loqueris lingua mea?” (You speak my language?)

  “Modicum.” (A little.)

  The human female’s voice sounded odd to his ears, but Lar could make out what she was trying to say if he focused. “Ita.” (Indeed.)

  “Militibus meis sanabo populum tuum … sed … oportet ergo eamus illuc. Compluresque milites … nos simul pugnare.” (My soldiers will heal your people … but … we must go there. Many soldiers … together we fight.)

  Following her small leather-gloved hand Lar eyed the opening high in the rocky ceiling. In the shaft of sunlight, his eyes easily followed the fragile-looking metal contraption that ran from the lip of the opening down to the ground. “Illi gressus angustus est populus meus, sed nos obligari ad populum tuum. Saltem possis inque peditus effugere. (Those steps are too small for my people, but we are obligated to your people. At least, you can escape.)

  Understanding his meaning, the female shook her head from side-to-side. “Non, vires suppetebant ad omnes.” (No, strong enough for all.)

  Lar wanted to laugh when the female’s furless face scrunched up in denial, but remembering the ferocity of the last female warrior he’d pissed off in the Great Forest, Lar kept a straight face. He must think of her as a Decanus for her people. No matter how ridiculous he found the idea of a female legionnaire, he must remember that these new human warriors appearing suddenly out of nowhere could be a sign from Akras. Either way, these humans gave them a chance to possibly survive this battle yet.

  ”Vestra Populum tuum auxilium meum tauri. Nos ineat mecum simul et effugium. Bonum consilium, sed nos oportet quod expectes quia sanctus.“ (Your people help heal my bulls. We fight together and escape. Good plan, but we must wait for the holy one.)

  After several tries, it took Lar pointing to the priestess still locked in stasis before the human Decanus Driscoll finally understood what he meant. Again Lar watched the unreadable expressions crossing her furless face as she replied thoughtfully. “Deinde videmus speramus.” (Then we wait.) Turning around, she called out to the other humans dressed in green. “I need medics to get these legionnaires fixed up now!”

  Lar didn’t understand the language, but immediately the human warriors began moving to the injured bulls of his contubernium as Decanus Driscoll reached for a green pouch with a red cross strapped to her waist. “Da mihi brachium tuum. Hoc tenebit vulnus nam simul quia nunc.“ (Give me your arm. This will hold the wounds together for now.)

  Rolling his shoulders Lar inspected the females work. The herbs were very different than the healing salves of his people, but the bandages were similar in nature. Whatever was in the little tube was worth its weight in gold. Although the not completely healed, the bleeding had stopped, and the wound was sealed. Rising to his hooves Lar inclined his head to Decanus Driscoll. “Gratias tibi . Nunc ut perspiciatis nostrum
concordes respondissent meum Centurion.” (Thank you. Now I must explain our agreement to my Centurion.)

  Lar made his way towards the red-plumed helm at the center of the battle line where the Scourge were pressing the hardest. Pushing his way through the struggling ranks Lar gripped the large bull’s shoulder. “Centurion, we must speak. There is a change in the tactical situation.”

  Removing his gauntleted hand, Lar waited as the Centurion called back to the legionnaire behind him. “Decanus Carus, take my place at the shield wall on my mark.” Immediately the large bull began slaughtering the Scourge in front of him with a flurry of blows. “Mark!”

  At the barked order, Decanus Carus slide smoothly into the Centurion’s spot as Quintillius stepped back from the line breathing heavily. As the battle rage left his eyes, Quintillius stepped forward gripping Lar’s shoulder warmly. “You did well recovering our legionnaires back there Decanus Natalinus, but I’m afraid the rescue will be short lived.”

  “I thank you, Centurion. I know our brothers would rather have the chance to fight then be slaughtered like nafda, but our rescue might not be so short lived. There is another option.” Seeing Quintillius’ raised eyebrows, Lar quickly gave him a rundown of the situation with the humans. Standing up straight, Quintillius looked over Lar’s head to eye the human female and her troops.

  “Decanus Driscoll you say.”

  “Yes, Centurion.”

  Quintillius grunted thoughtfully. “They are nothing like the half-naked savages that met us when we first arrived in this world. They fought well, even if their weapons were useless.”

  “Like the Imperium was before the Klavikians shared their knowledge.”

  “What’s your impression Decanus, do they have honor?”

  “I find it fortuitous that these new humans have suddenly appeared at our greatest time of need. I keep asking myself if Akras hasn’t intervened on our behalf.” They both made the sign of the sickle at Lar’s words. “Instead of cowering behind our lines with their useless weapons after being bloodied, they fought the best they could and freely gave aid to our wounded. Both of which are honorable in their own right. We can fight to the death or give them a chance to prove their worth.”