The Chosen - Rise of Cithria Part 1

by Kris Kramer

  Chapter 24

  The screams and shouts resounded throughout the wide hallway, bombarding the four Anduains from seemingly all directions. The figures tensed as the cacophony reached its boiling point, flooding the expansive space with dread-inspiring noise. No enemies had rushed from the many side corridors spewing off of the main passageway, but their loud battle cries told that confrontation was imminent.

  Eilidh looked at her three companions, four if she included the terrifying wolf. Ready for a fight, the large animal resembled a creature of nightmares, with enormous bared teeth snapping ferociously, claws like obsidian razors, and shoulder muscles bunched and twisted like thick ropes of iron. Despite knowing better, Eilidh took a step back, eyes wide and fixed on the seething furry fury.

  “Don’t worry about Kearney,” Fionn said with the same calm anger that Eilidh recognized from being quietly scalded by her own father. The polite rage always frightened her the most.

  “He’s on our side,” added Shela.

  Shela stood holding no weapon other than visible obstinacy, but her armor was magnificent. In fact, Eilidh now noticed that all three human allies had similarly expensive-looking armor. She also shamefully noted that she didn’t look the part at all, standing next to three confident warriors all decked out well beyond her means. Shela looked especially impressive, sporting figure-hugging, dark green bark-skin armor, whereas her sister had opted for heavier, scale armor that hung over a leather jerkin. Both druids wore silver cloaks, denoting their devotion to the Tree of Rebirth, whose bark was said to glow silver in the torchlight under Arbreldin. In the firelight of this tunnel, the tree emblem in the center of Fionn’s cloak swayed gently, while Shela’s tree seemed to suffer from swirling gales. The fantastic animations merely reinforced Eilidh’s sense of inadequacy.

  Eilidh’s head barely had a chance to hang low when a gentle hand raised her face. Liam smiled at her, apparently oblivious to the sounds of chaos swiftly approaching. With a wink, he released her face and turned to address all three women.

  “Hit me,” he demanded.

  Confused, Eilidh glanced over at the other two women. To her increased befuddlement, they both approached Liam, laid hands on him, and then chanted spells Eilidh didn’t quite recognize. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back peacefully as the druids’ magic flowed visibly across his body.

  The chanting ceased, and Fionn walked towards Eilidh. When she hesitated at the druid’s touch, Fionn smiled.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “The spell bolsters your body for a short time, granting you Ghrian’s strength and agility temporarily.”

  Eilidh acquiesced and Fionn formulated the spell. Instantly, the Sun Goddess’ power rushed through her entire being. She felt invincible, like she could drive a fist through a castle wall without straining. Never had she experienced anything like it, the extreme power and quickness that accompanied the druid’s magic.

  “The hounds of destruction are almost upon us,” Liam began quite suddenly, and dramatically. He strutted back and forth before them, an arrogant swagger in his step. “Bard and druid, take up positions behind these pillars jutting out from the walls on either side of the tunnel. Eilidh, take a cover position behind the next pillar down, towards the approach of these dastardly devils. Wait for my signal, and then support me while I defeat all opposition.”

  Eilidh could tell that Shela wasn’t used to taking orders. Her body was stiff as a board and her clenched fists showed bright white knuckles. Before the vengeful words could start, Fionn interrupted her.

  “Sounds like a plan,” she stated and then jogged to her position.

  “Bard?” Shela growled. “I’m not some tavern-trawling, drunken lout struggling over some strings—”

  “Stow it,” Fionn snapped. “There’s no time.”

  Shela glared at her sister, but Fionn just motioned for her to move over to the other pillar, against the opposite wall. Not happy, Shela stomped ungracefully to her place. Eilidh watched with worry, wondering why Fionn had agreed so easily to a plan that her sister disagreed with. Liam now stood in the middle of the tunnel, close to where Eilidh was supposed to be. The noisy din had increased in intensity once more, and Fionn had to shout to be heard.

  “Eilidh, we don’t have time to argue about this. Just get in position and do your best,” she yelled from the shadows.

  After hustling to her hiding spot, Eilidh peeked out to see Liam standing in the middle of the tunnel, all alone. His deep black cloak covered his lowered head and draped completely around his body, hiding his tattooed arms. In a slightly darker place, Eilidh could’ve easily walked right past the Thorn without even noticing him, but the torches lining the floor illuminated him eerily. Surely he knew that the enemy would see him? Was this just another foolhardy Thorn, or could he really save them all?

  Ruaidhri, would you do this?

  Her reverie ended abruptly as the hoots and cries suddenly ceased all around her. Another peek around the pillar revealed no enemies, but Liam remained as a statue. Sweat formed under Eilidh’s ill-fitting helmet and ran in cold trickles down her neck, soaking the linens under her hideously adorned armor. A shiver gripped her as a cool draft of air kissed her exposed cheeks.

  The silence felt like an unreachable itch, driving her mad with impatience. She feared the fierce enemy that threatened them, but she shook with the anticipation of letting her sword and shield speak freely amongst them. The shivering was constant now, the cool breeze assaulting the cracks and joints in her cheap armor.

  She dared another look from her hiding spot and jumped back with her hand muffling a cry of surprise. At least eight foes had appeared silently in the hallway and were rushing noiselessly towards the isolated Liam. The confidence of having the druids’ spells enhancing her combat abilities waned. Hardly daring to move, Eilidh forced her eyes to keep watch over Liam, anxiously awaiting his signal.

  I can’t do this, Ruaidhri. I can’t do this. I’m not ready to die.

  What was the signal? Liam had never said! How would she know when to attack? The questions shot through her mind, diverting her fearful worries into a lower priority. Now she concentrated on the mental task list that automatically materialized in her head. She focused on trying to create a magical earth barrier for Liam. With a few outlandishly dexterous movements of her hands, she drew on the power of the ground around her. Never had her hands moved so fluidly, so quickly, so accurately. Confidence welled up once more. The power of nature flowed through her body and radiated out to the ground around Liam.

  Time slowed to a grinding halt. The enemies’ faces held grim and wicked expressions, lit by the flickering of the flames on the tunnel floor. Eilidh steeled herself, her hands fervently willing the dirt to form Liam’s defense, as it had done for her previously.

  Now only a few strides separated the charging foes and the motionless Liam. Eilidh braced herself, fearing the worst as the pebbles at Liam’s feet merely quivered under her intense concentration.

  Liam is paralyzed with fear, and I can’t make a wall to protect him.

  A havtrol reached Liam first and hefted a monstrous hammer above its head. As the fire-engulfed head of the hammer began its downward stroke towards Liam’s skull, his cloak billowed out away from his body and his hands produced his signature red blades.

  Eilidh regarded the scene in awe as Liam’s body twisted to avoid the enemy’s blow, while he also managed to yell, “I’m flyin’ in!”

  The flaming hammer struck the floor with force enough to smash tiles and send a shockwave under Eilidh’s boots. Through the fiery dust cloud created by the crushing weight of the hammer, she could make out a whirlwind of fury darting around shadowy enemies, unleashing disaster upon them. The sight froze her in place, but not with fear. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before, watching Liam dance through the blades and hammers of the enemy, lashing out elegant vengeance at will.

  “That was t
he signal, idiot!” yelled a voice from behind.

  Eilidh turned to see Shela rushing past her, bounding like a deer over the flaming torches, her silver cloak flowing out behind her. A single word from the druid’s mouth had Eilidh’s heart pounding uncontrollably and her muscles begging for use. Fionn stood in the middle of the tunnel, maintaining a safe distance as she chanted the healing spells keeping Liam seemingly immune to the crushing blows he sustained in his fighting. Old tales spoke of druids who could project their healing magic through the earth to nearby allies, but Eilidh had never seen such a thing in person.

  Eilidh felt invigorated to a whole new level. She darted out from concealment and collided with a tall firbolg who must’ve been charging towards Fionn, trying to interrupt her healing spells. The pair crashed to the ground, but the veteran firbolg was on his feet in an instant, now eyeing the kill on the sprawled form of Eilidh. She looked up and saw the bemused look in his eyes as he made a move towards her.

  The thought that a firbolg should never attack another Anduain didn’t even enter Eilidh’s mind. Her encounter with the elf earlier had thrown all preconceived notions of friend and foe to the wind. Now she scrambled backwards, scooting on her behind, trying to pull up her shield and sword to defend herself. If she took the time to stand in her clumsy armor, she would be struck down. The firbolg’s swagger reminded her of Liam.

  Well, not just like Liam. Liam didn’t want to kill his own countrymen.

  Before he got in range to swing, thick tree roots shot out through cracks in the floor and entwined themselves around the firbolg’s thick legs. Eilidh quickly gained her feet while she watched the tall enemy fumble and struggle with the constricting vines.

  Had she summoned these roots?

  “He’ll be stuck for a while. Go help Liam!” Fionn called from behind.

  Apparently not.

  The firbolg futilely struck out towards Eilidh as she ran past. She flinched instinctively, but kept moving, anxious to help out.

  The scene before her was nothing less than absolute chaos. She’d never been involved in such a large fight before. Her hesitation held her feet in place, not quite sure what to do, how to help. Liam still moved ferociously and precisely around three enemies angrily wielding large weapons. Their inability to bring the man down fed their fury.

  One roared inhumanly and rushed at Liam’s exposed back. Eilidh jerked slightly as she felt an outpouring of magic. A dirt wall shot up behind Liam, thwarting his attacker long enough for Liam to turn and slash through the side of the man’s armor. Eilidh staggered for a moment, still reeling from extending her power across such a distance. She hadn’t even consciously thought to do it. It just happened.

  Beyond the melee in front of her, Kearney pounced on a short, stout dwarf. The dwarf crashed to the ground and struggled feverishly with the much larger wolf.

  Behind the raging wolf, a man appeared from the shadows and cast a spell that froze Kearney like a stone, jaws held agape in ferocity. The same man then chanted a spell that appeared to help the dwarf recover, because the next thing Eilidh knew, the sneering dwarf had broken free and called up a huge pile of rocks to unceremoniously dump on top of the helpless wolf. After being stunned, Kearney struggled frantically, but he couldn’t budge the rocks with his broken body.

  Shela rushed past in front of Eilidh with an enemy in tow. The long spear in the man’s grip slashed endlessly at Shela’s feet as she deftly leapt through the fallen flames and bounced off piles of rubble. The druid jumped high and landed with a great downward outtake of breath that burst a gust of wind in all directions, pushing her pursuer back a few paces as she started running again.

  “Do something!” Shela yelped while dodging yet another attack from her assailant.

  Shame cast a dark shadow over Eilidh. She’d been watching her companions fight on her behalf while she just looked on in confusion. Doing anything surely outweighed doing nothing at all. Her failure to act could’ve doomed them all.

  Eilidh bodily tackled the man, who’d been totally oblivious to her presence. He went down hard with a grunt, and before he could recover, Eilidh drove the bottom edge of her shield solidly into the back of his head, cracking his face down onto the dirty tiles. Fueled by soaring adrenaline, she jumped up and rushed to Liam’s aid, but her short sword couldn’t even penetrate the exposed flanks of her enemies. Their armor rejected her blade as if it was a long piece of grass.

  Liam poked his head out of the fray while still parrying the rain of blows effortlessly. “Go and get after that Calderan priest in the back. He’s keeping these ruffians alive, and believe it or not, I cannot do this all day.”

  His smile worried Eilidh a little. Who could smile at a time like this?

  She pressed on through the fight and found what she could only assume was a Calderan, based on his emblazoned jerkin. Despite the long war between Andua and Caldera, she’d never seen a Calderan in person, but she’d heard they put symbols on their armor and shields to represent their home region within Caldera.

  This one stood perfectly still, with his eyes closed. Seeing her opportunity to prove herself, she charged and drew back her sword. Before she could strike the desired blow, a strong hand grabbed her wrist from behind. Eilidh twisted around and drove a knee into the gut of her attacker.

  Shela gasped and let go of Eilidh’s arm.

  “I am so sorry, Shela,” Eilidh called out, extending a hand to the woman.

  Through wheezes, Shela slapped her hand away and replied, “Not now. Don’t hit that priest. I put him to sleep. Go help Liam.”

  Thoroughly confused at being tossed from one end of the fight to the other, Eilidh sprinted back to Liam’s side. With the Calderan’s healing powers subdued, Liam had slain two of his opponents, leaving only the great havtrol standing, his fiery hammer casting wicked shadows as it sliced through the air in deadly arcs. Not taking his eyes from his most dangerous foe, Liam yelled for Eilidh to go take care of the nuathreen.

  “What nuathreen?” she yelled back, feeling more useless than ever. Why wouldn’t her own allies let her fight?

  Shela materialized next to them both and called out, “I think he’s on our side. He killed that dwarf, and he’s chasing down that Movrisian.”

  These words flooded into the growing discombobulated mess within Eilidh’s head. What nuathreen? What Movrisian? What was a Movrisian?

  She scanned around and indeed saw the dwarf lying motionless, its skin charred black. Movement out of the corner of her eye attracted her attention, and she turned in time to see a dark-skinned man appear from behind a pillar and eye her intensely as he started drawing on unholy power, his hands glowing pink and red.

  Eilidh ran towards the man, but knew that she could never reach her foe in time to stop his magic. She braced herself as his hands completed their motion. Eilidh squeezed her eyes shut, expecting the next few moments to hurt. A lot.

  But she felt nothing.

  She opened her eyes and saw the man sprawled before her, his staff strewn in smoking pieces around the lifeless body. Now disconcerted, Eilidh looked around, swiveling her head, trying to establish what had just happened. Why was she still alive?

  Then she saw the small nuathreen appear from the shadows behind the dead man. The nuathreen’s staff stood much taller than he did, and he radiated authority as he strode past her without even a glance. Eilidh watched in awe as the diminutive spell-caster created spheres of destructive light in his small hand and then launched the crackling spheres towards his enemies.

  In short order, the powerful nuathreen dispatched the sleeping priest and the tangled firbolg. He then loomed over the man that Eilidh had failed to finish off in her hurry to help Liam. The man was on his hands and knees now, slowly getting to his feet. As the man’s hand reached out for his spear, the nuathreen drew back his grey cloak over his shoulders, revealing a black robe underneath.

  Bright white traces of light s
uddenly radiated all over the black robe, startling Eilidh in their intensity. The traces strobed and flashed chaotically, and in the uneven light, Eilidh caught glimpses of the spearman’s face growing more and more enraged. He grabbed up his spear and leapt towards the nuathreen, but then explosive lightning burst out between them. The nuathreen channeled the lightning into the screaming human for a number of seconds before relenting. The entire tunnel faded to silent black in the aftermath of the dazzling display of Ghrian’s raw power.

  Eilidh’s eyes adjusted slowly, and as horrified as she was at the spearman’s death, she ignored his burned corpse and followed everyone’s gaze towards the only living enemy remaining: the havtrol who still circled Liam in a terrible fury.

  The Anduains closed in around the havtrol, who started to back up, taking a defensive stance. In a move displaying uncanny quickness for such a large being, the havtrol sheathed its enormous hammer and produced a shield the size of a cottage door. In its other hand glowed a smaller version of the larger hammer. It beat on the shield and roared furiously at the approaching Anduains.

  A sharp whistle caught everyone’s attention. Eilidh watched as Liam motioned with his hand for them to back off, to stay put. She hesitated, watching the others for a reaction. They all nodded and stopped, including their new companion, the nuathreen lightning mage. Kearney continued to growl from his master’s side, but remained glued in place, unable to strike without Fionn’s approval.

  Eilidh edged closer to Fionn and drew a snap from the wolf. After emitting an awkward cough, trying to hide her overt flinch at the animal’s aggression, Eilidh whispered to Fionn, “Why aren’t we helping him?”

  Fionn didn’t break her gaze from the battle waiting to start, but she responded, “We don’t interrupt duels, Eilidh. Just watch.”

  Aghast, Eilidh whispered back, “Just watch? But what if the havtrol wins?”

  Now Shela joined the conversation and looked at Eilidh gravely.

  “If the havtrol wins, we will reward it with a slow, painful death.”