by D N Meinster
Kahar had amassed so much power that even those that disagreed with him joined him. If he fell, then most Streamers would return to how things had been. Old tribes would reform. The Revolutionaries had always been a temporary group waiting until that could happen. It still was.
“We are all Revolutionaries,” Loraya spoke for the first time that morning. “All of us. And yesterday, I asked if we wanted our sacrifices to be in vain. I said I would not stop until death. And in so brief a time, we have lost so much more.” Her eyes began to water. “But I will not stop. Yayne, my brother. What good are our lives if we spend it in this false kingdom? If we hide like cowards because we’re afraid? I will not!” She banged a fist on the table.
“Loraya,” Yayne mumbled, caught completely unaware of his sister’s feelings.
“I am with you, Rikki,” Loraya said. “This does not end until there is no Kahar, or there are no Revolutionaries.”
Yayne’s shoulders dropped. “I’m with her.”
Rikki stood up, staff in hand. “Are your stomach’s full?” She looked around at the tiny audience. “Good. Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go save Terrastream.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Banishment
10 D.R.
Neanthal had never mourned before, so his consistent state of melancholy bewildered him to the point of near inaction. A deck had already gone by since he fled Castle Tornis, and he had yet to regroup and launch a counterattack. Instead, he returned to the imperial palace in Faunli and remained immobile atop the throne.
He should have been able to predict this chain of events. None of his servants were able to kill Amelia. One-after-another he sent them to the Twilight Islands, only for them to retreat or end up dead. This was the outcome Magenine desired. He was the one exiled now, with Amelia and her Tunsevs retaking Kytheras.
That mage. He always knew she was the threat. That power. Magenine gifted her more than any other. Wherever Amelia was present, it felt like the Goddess was there as well. His only possible counter to Her was Hatswick, and the fool had yet to acknowledge just what had been released inside of him. So long as he stayed a Magenite, then Amelia would have no equal.
Yet not only had Neanthal lost his castle, but he’d also lost his most loyal general. Peransic had been with him since the Early War, and now he was gone. Neanthal didn’t even realize Peransic could be killed by these humans. Who was there left to trust and strategize with? Jient?
Neanthal’s depressed chuckle bounced around the chamber. It’d lost its sheen in the intervening years, where there’d been no Faun ruler to keep it polished. Even the presence of demibeasts and Ifta could not hide the neglect.
“Jient!” Neanthal called.
The lowly slave dressed in shredded red robes with a golden beak sticking out from his face dragged himself over to his master.
“Remove the mask,” Neanthal ordered.
Jient complied, as he always did.
“Give us a song,” he ordered.
Jient’s yellow eyes darted around as he considered the request. Demibeasts were curled up on the floor or stretching their legs and walking in circles. The Ifta stood as still as the crystal statues that decorated the corners. None of the human army had been allowed inside. They were forced to camp out on the steps of the palace or in the streets of Radite.
“Oh these hearts do not shine with the brilliance of our home,
And these eyes are dull compared to gold.
But deep in this soul I know I’m not alone
Because the Phodos all will grow old.
My ancestors pledged to be true to our home,
And I pledge I’ll be true to you.
When day becomes night,
And our lives fall to blight,
It is Faunli that will get us through.
In those hours we share,
When we’re caught unaware,
And light of our home has died.
I know we’ll survive,
And once again thrive,
So long as the Phodos grow old.”
Neanthal clapped as Jient wrapped up his song, a grin forming on his face. The irony of the song had much improved his mood. “Your rhyming is impeccable, Jient. Never stop.”
He slid from the throne and strolled through his idle warriors as he made for the exit. With a wave of his hand, the massive doors of the palace swung open and he beheld the rest of his army awaiting their orders.
“Do you know why we’ll win?” he screamed at them.
They all went still at the sound of his voice.
“It’s not because of the new weapons I’ll give you. It’s not because we outnumber them eight-to-one. It’s because of me.”
Neanthal’s body transformed into wispy black smoke before their eyes. He stretched his right arm out and it became a limb as tall as the highest building in Radite. Then he did the same with his left arm. His body and legs inflated to a comparable size, until he appeared as a giant, headless demibeast on the palace steps. An elongated tail shot out of his hind, and then his snout finally rose up, followed by enhanced fiery eyes. He stood before them in his true form and let out a roar that shook the ground and rattled their souls.
For the first time, he let them all see the Beast behind the visage, and they were all mesmerized by the ghastly sight.
“Victory!” he bellowed.
Neanthal’s eyes closed, but he could see even further than when they were open. The Tunsevs had been alerted to their approach and were scrambling to meet them at the border. They hurried to gather their enchanted weapons, to pull on their armor, and to rally the citizenry. Had they become so complacent in less than two decks?
He opened his eyes and located Castle Tornis in the distance. It would be his again, soon. He did not need swords and arrows to take the city back. He had a weapon with greater capabilities that would put an end to this war and his opponents.
All of his plated Massku and most of his humans were no longer baring the typical rapiers that Ghumaic combatants all seemed to adore. Instead, they were equipped with Bellish rifles. These T-shaped, long-range barrels could fire their projectiles more than twice as fast as bows, and their ammunitions were enchanted to rip through any target they encountered. Armor would be useless against them. The only potential hindrance was the shields Amelia had enchanted. But Neanthal could take care of those bearers personally.
He’d returned to his human form, ankle-length leather coat and all. But he did not bother with the rifles. In his hand was the black, red jewel-encrusted hilt of his sword, from which two blades, one as thin as a needle, the other much broader, rose up. Not even Amelia’s enchanted metals would be able to block him.
But his arm juddered at the thought of taking her on, alone. It’d be almost like taking on the Goddess by himself, and he still remembered what had happened the last time he’d attempted that.
Fear was new to him, but it was so prevalent in Ghumai he recognized it immediately. He was afraid of Magenine’s puppet. If she was able to stop him, he’d never return to the Bastion. He’d never see Magenine again.
Is that what Magenine wanted? Is that why She’d made sure he’d emerge in this world? Had She foreseen his defeat?
The closer they marched to Kytheras, the more frightened he became. He tried to shake it away; to distract himself with thoughts of retribution and visions of what the Tunsevs were up to. But he knew this could be it. By day’s end, he may cease to be.
The Ifta and the humans lined up at his side. Some took a knee as they aimed their rifles. Others were fine standing as they targeted the incoming soldiers.
Outer Kytheras remained in a state of disrepair, though archers had taken root in the few standing structures that could support them. The Guardians that dotted the border were soon reinforced by legions of men who’d been summoned there by the King. Not all were prepared to be there. Some were dressed in armor, others in ancient blue and gold colors. There were guardians in shades of green, and mages
wrapped in their cloaks. But many were completely unprepared, wearing nothing but plainclothes as they brandished blade and axe.
Neanthal’s forces were better coordinated, not only in color but in form. They stood at the ready, awaiting his go ahead.
He considered giving the Kytherans an ultimatum before he ordered them shot but figured that if they hadn’t left the city with him, then they’d made their choice.
Still, he wasn’t ready to attack until he saw the man he was waiting for. King Shine arrived, shuffling through the assembled along with his white armored cohort. If he killed the last Tunsevs, he was sure Amelia would lose heart. They were who she was fighting for. When they died, she may submit, or at least retreat.
Shine’s armor was familiar. It was the exact same that Aergo had worn when Neanthal had killed him. How fitting.
Naturally, Amelia shifted to his side moments later.
“Urto!” Neanthal barked.
His last sin mage shifted to his side. Urto was decked in blue and silver armor with massive spikes emerging from each shoulder. His helmet bore three horns, as did his staff. Though Neanthal was disappointed that Urto had retreated from Hatswick rather than sacrifice himself, it may have worked out. If he could distract Amelia long enough, this battle would be brief.
“Wait until the initial attack,” Neanthal murmured. “Then keep Amelia occupied for as long as possible.”
“I will not fail you, my liege.”
More mages materialized near the front lines as they waited. The only one he didn’t see was Hatswick. That gave Neanthal even more hope.
“This will be quick.” Neanthal stared at Amelia, who gazed right back at him. He looked away before pointing a finger forward. “At my command! Fire!”
The Ifta and the humans all pulled the trigger of their rifles. But instead of launching the ammunition, the rifles exploded in substantial fireballs that consumed their bearers.
Neanthal and Urto were surrounded by flames that ate away the dismembered limbs and carcasses of their comrades. The heat and smoke swiftly overtook them, as did the smell of burning flesh.
Neanthal stood shell-shocked, unable to make sense of the development before arrows began to rain down on whatever was left of his forces. Urto took one in the face and fell. Neanthal took two in the shoulder, where they stayed as he considered retreating.
The Bellish had betrayed him. They’d boobytrapped their weapons and murdered multitudes of Massku and humans. First, some Ifta joined his enemies, and now this. Why were they so disloyal? He gave them more strength than Magenine would allow. He brought them technology that was beyond their ability to conceive. Yet they still sided with Her. Always Her. Never him.
Neanthal yanked the arrows from his arm, the wounds they’d left fading away in an instant. He screamed for his demibeasts to charge forward while Shine’s troops advanced on him.
There just weren’t enough left to make a difference. He heard their mangled cries as they met sword and spear and whatever else the Tunsev troops shoved into their guts. He could call forth more, but that would be more effort than he could lend it while Amelia approached.
She didn’t even bother shifting to face him. Instead, she stayed by the King’s side as they moved on his hordes, facing smoke and foul scent as they took down Massku and alleged traitor alike.
“Magenine!” Neanthal screamed in disgust. But it was Amelia who finally sidled up to him with her staff at the ready.
“You’ve lost,” she said in her arrogant tone.
Neanthal’s body swelled in fury until he was twice his usual size and towered over her. His sword grew to match his newly defined height. “If all I accomplish this day is killing you, I’ll consider it a success.”
He swung his sword down at her head, but she held up her staff with both hands and blocked it.
A light began to glow around her neck, and she, too, enlarged until she matched his height. With a twitch of her staff, she bounced his sword off and took a swing at his head.
Neanthal was too astonished by her new size to move as the channeling crystal slammed into his cheek.
His head turned as a mound of spit launched from his lips.
“Yield now, and your people may yet live.”
He responded with his sword, which stretched out from the hilt and impaled her shoulder.
Before it could retract, Amelia slammed her staff into his sword and it shattered into thousands of black shards.
Neanthal summoned the shards into the air and hurled them in Amelia’s direction.
She conjured up a barrier which halted the shards as they embedded themselves in the ethereal wall. Neanthal summoned them back to the hilt, and they immediately reformed the blade.
Hatswick shifted to Amelia’s side moments later. He examined them both before quipping, “Didn’t know we had another growth spurt at middle age.”
Neanthal blew fire from his mouth toward the new arrival, but Hatswick held up his staff and absorbed the blaze.
“Fancy trick.” Hatswick shot blocks of ice from his staff that encased both of Neanthal’s feet.
Neanthal stepped out from the ice like it wasn’t even there. The jewel on his sword began to glow before his entire body was surrounded in a red aura.
Amelia matched him by turning both her channeling crystals green and encasing herself in their aura.
Hatswick followed by coating himself in a gold aura as he grew to match their size.
Neanthal tossed his sword into the air, and it swiped at Hatswick as if an invisible wielder was controlling it.
With Hatswick distracted, he gathered the red energy around his arms and reached for Amelia. He managed to wrap them around her neck before she jabbed him with her staff and shoved him backwards.
“I don’t need crystals,” Neanthal barked. “I don’t need the Goddess. I am power!” He stretched out his arms and shot a beam of red energy at Amelia.
Amelia twirled her staff and smacked the red emission, deflecting it over the horizon. She retaliated by coating her staff in green light and tossing it at Neanthal like a spear.
It cut through his gut with ease and soared out his back. But the hole it created faded away within moments. Amelia’s staff returned to her hand.
Hatswick was locked in a duel with Neanthal’s sword, unable to do more than deflect its strikes. When he tired of the stalemate, he latched onto the hilt, but the sword immediately rose into the sky, dragging him with it.
Amelia watched her partner fly upward before glaring at Neanthal.
Neanthal responded by turning his arms to smoke and engulfing her in toxic air. As he kept his focus on her, a sharp-tipped staff broke through the silver heart on his chest.
Neanthal’s red hue flickered as his arms reformed at his sides. He latched onto the spherical crystal and yanked Hatswick straight through his body.
Hatswick stumbled and fell at Amelia’s feet.
Amelia whipped her staff back and Hatswick was pulled onto his feet. He leaned on his staff for support as his own aura began to dim.
The three of them stared at each other as the war wrapped up around them. Tunsev soldiers and guardians were surrounding the Massku survivors and taking them out one-by-one. Demibeasts were howling and whimpering before final strikes finished them off and left them quiet. There were more bodies than blood and there were more men than Massku.
Neanthal would have to start over in acquiring support to conquer the Bastion. All his accomplishments over his decade as king had been eradicated in less than a deck. He had no Ifta left; no sin mages. He’d have to rely on these Ghumaic humans to provide the brunt of support in an invasion. The demibeasts could only do so much.
First, he had to remove his final obstacle. Neanthal reached towards the sky and his sword fell into his hand. He promptly tossed it forward and watched it soar at Amelia’s head.
Hatswick removed his enlarged trilby and swept the oncoming sword into his hat. He spun around and launched the sword back ou
t at its bearer.
Neanthal let it pass through his torso to show them that they could not harm him.
But neither of his opponents were distracted or disheartened by the display. From their staffs, they both launched radiant beams of green and gold that followed the sword’s path. Only this time, Neanthal felt it when they struck his chest.
He retaliated with his own red beams emerging from his hands, though Amelia conjured a barrier to cease their momentum.
As Amelia started to advance, Neanthal let loose an engorged demibeast from his chest. It latched onto the Grand Mage and she fell back.
Neanthal summoned his sword back into his hand and moved on Hatswick. But when he raised his sword to strike him, the wings of Amelia’s staff cut through his arm.
The dismembered limb lay on the ground, still clutching his sword. He didn’t let the momentary shock faze him, as he willed it into smoke and sent it to reform at his shoulder.
But in the seconds it took for his arm to return, Amelia struck him again. This time, her staff cut diagonally through his chest, right through the silver heart.
Hatswick followed up by shoving his staff into the wispy wound that had yet to fade. Gold energy ejected from his staff and filled Neanthal’s orifices with matching light.
Amelia copied her partner moments later, sending in green light to join the gold.
Their magic was pulling apart the very fiber of his being. He was unable to reform and heal as his constitution was undone and left in a billowy state.
Neanthal didn’t feel any pain, but his thoughts began to dwindle. He tried to will himself to stay together, but if they kept at it, he would burst and be left as harmless as the white clouds that floated above them.