by Jon Bender
“Should we help them?” Taft asked.
Keller ignored the question to think. Why weren’t those responsible not yet making their move? With so many people in the streets, it would be easy to begin staging attacks against patrols. Still there were no signs of fighting on the way to the temple or here now where the soldiers were vulnerable. The sound of horses reached his ears, and he saw a herd of the unsaddled animals galloping down a cross street. He also counted another three fires burning somewhere in the northern city. Then it struck him. The northern city was not where the rebels were staging their attacks. There were no armed men here. No cries for freedom or to destroy the evil god. If they weren’t here, that left only the southern city.
“Spread the word to all men and mages. I want them marching across the bridges into the southern city now. Benkt, go to the temples and give my command to the priests as well. Those who do not obey will suffer for betraying Or’Keer,” he yelled.
“But they are attacking here. If we don’t put these fires out and find those responsible the whole city could be razed,” Prasil protested.
“No, they aren’t. They just want to keep us busy. Do as I say. The people who live here can carry buckets without our aid.”
The anger in his voice cowed the lord of Karadin, who began sending the last of the men with them to gather the patrols scattered across the northern city. Soon all the soldiers who had formed part of the bucket chain and many of those who had remained on the steps were forming up into a marching column. They were joined by near twenty priests led out of the temple by Benkt. Keller knew that they were not all of those within, but they could not leave Or’Keer’s temple unguarded. When the priests spread themselves out along the column as they had been trained, Keller took the lead and started for the nearest bridge that would take them across the river and into the southern city.
Keeping the column of near a hundred men moving at a steady pace, they were near the bridge within twenty minutes. It was then that he noticed more fires had been set near the river as well. Rounding a corner that took them onto the main thoroughfare, he found that it was the bridge itself that was on fire. Carts, crates, bundles of cloth, and all manner of scrap wood had been stacked into a pile at the center of the bridge and set alight. Beyond the flames, on the opposite side of the bridge, he could see a small contingent of near fifty men and women dressed in commoners’ clothing. They had spread out to either side of the bridge and were waiting for them. Most carried simple swords or spears, but many held bows before them as well, and he wondered why they had yet to loose arrows over the slow moving water below. Returning his attention to the fire, he knew neither his magic nor that of the priests were capable of dousing the flames. The light of the inferno would weaken any of their cast before the magic could do any good. He could use the void to cut through the barrier, but it would take too much time for him to do it alone and risk damaging the bridge.
“Benkt, have your brothers call forth shadow beasts that can reach the traitors. Prasil, get the men onto the bridge and start clearing it,” Keller said.
Benkt obeyed immediately, but Prasil hesitated. “Chosen One, would it not be better to wait for our mages to arrive instead of risking the men?”
“And where are your mages, Lord Prasil!” he demanded. His anger was flowing freely now. Not at the man, but at himself for not seeing the distraction for what it was. His ignorance allowing the dissenters time to enact their plan without resistance.
“I am sure they will be here momentarily. They were spread out across the city,” Prasil said. He offered his words with respect, but did not back down either.
Keller forced himself to calm down and see the situation clearly. Was he right about risking the men to get across, or was Prasil offering sense. He knew that the flames and smoke alone would likely badly injure or kill many of the men he sent into the inferno. But he also felt that without knowing what was going on in the southern city, he couldn’t risk waiting. In the end, it came down to what Or’Keer would demand.
“Have the men move onto the bridge and start throwing the debris into the river. The brotherhood will offer them protection,” he said in a cooler voice.
Prasil waited a second longer before nodding. He turned and began pointing out men and telling them to clear the bridge. Keller could see the looks on those soldiers’ faces as they were picked. He ignored them and turned his attention back to the other side of the river where the commoners-turned-militia waited nervously. He could not help what was about to happen to those soldiers, but he could at least aid in protecting them from the arrows that were sure to fly once they approached the bridge.
Bowing his head slightly, he concentrated his will on the cast he wanted to perform, readying himself for the carnage that was about to ensue. Those priests who could summon a winged shadow beast had done so, and Keller was less than impressed. Ten of the creatures, pulled from the darkest places of the brothers’ minds, flapped just over their heads. They were smaller and less powerful than Keller had hoped for. The biggest of them with four rounded wings, a pointed beak, and four legs ending in claws, was no larger than a ten-year-old child. He was disappointed, but understood the limitations of flight that relied on magic to sustain it. It was also unreasonable to expect priests to match his own power. He could order some of them to transform themselves into the large birds of prey as Tandis had, but that would take more time than he was willing to waste. Also, Keller was nothing like the entitled prince who would throw away the lives of Or’Keer’s most loyal. Once a priest had taken that shape, he could never again walk as a man, forever trapped inside the shadow body containing their human forms, and released only when death took them. In desperate times, he may require it of the brotherhood, but such a time had not yet found them.
He nodded to the priests who were all watching him. As one, the shadow beasts moved over the edge and above the water, most moving no faster than a jogging man. Keller raised his hands and released the first thick beams across the river. The void stretched across the gap quickly, but the rebels had more than enough time to react as the two he aimed for leapt out of the way. His magic passed harmlessly by them to cut clean holes in the grey stone of the building behind. Undeterred, he cast again and again. One of the beams managed to clip the shoulder of a woman who screamed as the flesh of her shoulder simply disappeared, but she was on her feet a second later, hefting the sword that seemed a little too big for her small frame. Keller could not but help admire her fortitude. By the time his next cast proved as fruitless as the ones before it, the shadow beasts had reached the lip of the stone street and began attacking. Keller took a moment to watch them and look for a distracted rebel who he could bring down. The shadow-made creatures swooped and dove for their prey, but they seemed to be no more effective than Keller had been. One of the larger ones, with wide spreading wings and two taloned legs, came too close to a group of men. A spear wielding traitor managed to jab it through its bird-like chest and bring it to the ground. The remaining men were quick to slash the creature apart until it dissolved. Those with bows had begun firing arrows when the fight started, but their aim was not for the shadow beasts. Instead, the shafts came raining down on the men who were nearing the flaming barricade. Already, half a dozen lay unmoving as those that made it to the center began carefully tossing debris over the side to clear a path. They were already making progress, but it was clear that the cost would be heavy as three more of the distracted soldiers went down.
Keller changed tactics. Instead of casting the void again, he stretched out his hand willing the shadows on the other side of the river to coalesce. The distance was almost at the maximum he could reach, telling him that the priests would not be able to follow his example. The shadows rose up forming a finger of Or’Keer as he readied to smash the rebels apart. Shouts began erupting from the other side as the rebels pointed to his forming magic. Within seconds men had leapt to the spot, using swords and long daggers to slash and cut at the shadows, e
ach impact sending a mental twinge through Keller. He was only able to knock one of the attackers into the river before his concentration was broken by the onslaught and he was forced to release the cast. His defeat brought a cheer of victory from the rebels. All the while, soldiers continued to be struck by arrows. He watched as his men continued to struggle against the flames, the number of dead now more than twenty. To make matters worse, he watched as one soldier lifted a flaming barrel over his head. The weakened wood broke in that moment, letting oil spill over the man’s head and onto the stone. He and three others caught fire and began screaming as their flesh was consumed. Keller watched as they threw themselves over the side and into the water below, choosing to be dragged down by the weight of their armor instead of burning alive. The spilled oil continued to burn, forcing many of the men back from the barricade and causing another cheer from the other side.
Looking back across the river, Keller could see that half of the flying shadow beasts were already gone. He had underestimated the rebels, and now knew that he either had to do something or wait for the mages as Prasil had said. Looking back to the north, hundreds more soldiers had arrived waiting to get across the bridge, but there were no casters among them. A loud cracking sound came from the southern city, accompanied by a slight tremor that traveled up his legs. Whatever the rebels were planning, it was already happening, and he couldn’t wait.
Holding his arms out with palms to the ground, he willed the surrounding shadows to flow to him, the darkness crawling upwards to his torso forming a harness over his chest. Soon his upper body was snuggly incased while still allowing him room to breathe. Between his shoulder blades, two bumps emerged and began to grow. Small tentacle-like appendages reached out and flattened until their breadth was twice that of his height. The shadows thinned even more into a delicate membrane much like bats’ wings. For a moment, it looked as if Keller had summoned a massive cape that had been caught in the wind. The billowy shadows took form as jointed structures similar to that of a bird’s wing supported them. With the ‘bones’ of his wings complete, Keller folded them in slightly so that he could move with more ease.
Looking up from his concentration, he found all eyes were on him. Even across the river he could see that the archers had ceased firing to stare in abject amazement and fear. Many of his own men had taken several steps back, and he could tell it was not just to give his new wings room. They, too, stood in shock at what they saw. Taft and Lord Prasil had moved with the others, if not as far, but their faces reflected the same. Only the shadow priests seemed unfazed by his magic, some even kneeling in prayer to Or’Keer. Benkt alone stood with his shoulders back and a gleam of pleasure in his eyes, as if he had expected nothing less. Within, he felt a tremor of awe flow from Hailey, as if she was seeing what he was for the first time.
He soaked in the stares for only a moment, letting a sense of satisfaction wash over him. It was good for all those present to see the undeniable power of the Dark God. Facing the river fully, his movement seemed to snap the rebels out of their stupor. One of them began shouting and soon the bows were once again raised, steel tipped arrows now pointed at Keller. Spreading his wings to their fullest, he beat hard several times and felt the weight leave his feet to be placed on his chest as he lifted into the air. He was not quite fast enough to avoid all of the shafts. Turning slightly, one of his wings took the hits to open up several slashes. The holes caused him to dip slightly to one side and the reverberation of the damage jarred his concentration, but it was nowhere near enough to slow him. Within seconds he sealed the tears with a surge of magic and was lifting even higher away from the arrows.
In that moment, hovering above the tops of the buildings, he felt free. He could see the whole of the city and it nearly overwhelmed his senses, the new perspective making him feel small in comparison, but also allowing him to take in everything that was happening. There were a dozen fires burning brightly in the northern city, and two more on the other bridges spanning the river. He saw several more fires in the southern city as well, marking them as temples that had been set ablaze. Likely the priests who resided in them had been ruthlessly slaughtered, a thought that sent a flash of anger through him. He forced the emotion aside, trying to keep a clear mind. To the north, large units of soldiers were marching toward them as word to head into the southern city spread through the ranks. In front of one such column, heading to one of the other blocked bridges, his magic-enhanced vision could just make out the forms of two robed mages. He hoped that one was a fire mage that could douse the flames blocking their path. Looking further south, he finally understood what was happening. What this Whisper and his traitors were planning.
At the southernmost wall, arcing fireballs and blasts of lightning struck the stones protecting the city. He could already see that two sections had been weakened, each showing large cracks in their surfaces. They had never intended to take the city or even eliminate those loyal to Or’Keer. They were creating an opening for the alliance to march through with ease. Jaxom and his friends would be able to take the southern city without laying siege. Once in, they needed only cross the river to seize the rest. If that happened, Or’Keer’s forces would suffer heavy losses in trying to retake Karadin, but Keller doubted it would come to that. The alliance would not be satisfied to just hold the city. They would move deeper into Fenaris, putting the Dark God himself at risk. Keller imagined the fires in the city spreading across the kingdoms under his god’s protection. The flames formed of the death mage and his allies. An inferno that would burn away everything Or’Keer was trying to build. The world would return to the old gods who would abuse humanity for their own gains.
A thought trickled through him, asking if that would be so bad? The war would end, and while life was not perfect in the time before Or’Keer, many people were happy. The notion was so foreign that it shocked him. He forced the vile thought away with memories of his mother and brother, seeing them die at the hands of one of the so-called nobility. With his head once again clear he discovered the source, and unsurprised to find it was Hailey who was looking up at him from the ground.
Without having to search for her, their bond allowed him to look directly at her. Enough, his mind screamed. You have sworn your life to Or’Keer.
He was not sure if she could understand the words formed in his mind, but the anger that was boiling within must have been clear. He could almost hear the words of an apology that traveled through their connection. This was the second time she had caused him to doubt his faith. He thought of ending her life and removing the uncertainty she continued to encourage, but did not act on the impulse. She had saved his life, and he had, in turn, saved hers. If this was the burden of his debt, then he would bear it. Perhaps that was what Or’Keer had intended all along by bonding them together. To test his belief in the path, or to show her that it was the correct course for all mankind.
The inner conflict had distracted him, but with the matter settled for the moment, he turned back to the fight at hand. To stop Whisper and his people, they must first get across the bridge. Looking down to the rebels on the opposite side of the bridge, they had resumed their attack on the soldiers trying to clear the bridge. Taking a deep breath, he let cool air fill his lungs and the magic of darkness flooded his core. Exhaling, he collapsed his wings and dove for the traitors. The sounds of the world returned to him as men shouted and the fire roared. Seconds from the ground, his wings spread wide catching the air and halting his fall as his hand came forward. The void sliced forward, cutting through a woman’s chest and severing the lower half of a man’s leg who had been next to her. The first fell without making a noise, the bow she held dropping from her lifeless hands. The second screamed and gripped just below his knee where his leg now ended. He rolled on the ground in agony trying to stem the flow of blood. The magic required for the void caused Keller to fall a short distance more before the energy returned to his wings. The power to maintain flight was enormous, and he would have to be
careful not to over-exert himself.
Many of the rebels switched their attention back to him, some firing arrows but Keller was prepared for them this time. His wings moved him forward in a more controlled dive as he dodged the shafts and prepared to cast again. Instead of forming the void, he chose instead a lesser version of Or’Keer’s finger, a whip-like weapon that would cut as well as any sword. Leveling out just over the rebels’ heads, he flung the tip forward aiming for any convenient target. A thin man, wearing an old leather jerkin and dented half-helmet, was not quick enough to dodge or block in time. The tip of Keller’s whip flayed the skin down his face and opened the large vessels in his neck. Before the man could fall away, Keller was past him to slash open the arm of his next target. Coming to the end of group, he began flapping to gain more height when a woman heaved a rough spear up at him. So close to the ground, he was unable to avoid the weapon as it ripped a long slash through a wing, the hit forcing him to release his whip to repair the tear, all the while trying evade the arrows following his path. He couldn’t climb back into the air and the buildings to his right would not allow for maneuvering. The tight confines forced him to fly out over the river as the only option of escape. Angling over the edge of the retaining wall, he dipped low to skim just above the water and out of sight of the rebels. Free of distractions, he followed the gentle curving walls while concentrating his will on mending the damage to the wing. In moments, it was whole once more and he beat them to lift back above the street. He had traveled nearly half a mile by the time he stopped to hover above the river. Readying himself, he flew back over the cobble street that followed the river. Keeping low, no more five feet above the hard surface, he was acutely aware of the considerable harm that the unforgiving stone would cause should he lose control.