by Matt King
“You stay with me,” she said. “We concentrate on the Ministers and the rest of the ground troops. The Orphii will work to disable their war machines.”
“And them?” he asked, motioning to Cerenus and Ion.
“Tamaril is mine,” Cerenus said. His golden eyes lit up at the mention of the name. “He’ll be protecting Galan’s biggest weapons. I’ll do my best to take the fight elsewhere. If the two of us go at it here, things will get…messy, even on a world as dead as this.”
In the darkness, the glow around Ion’s shell lit the dust in the air. “I will seek out The Tria,” he said. “To the best of my abilities, I will keep them away from you and the others. Should Mordric or Tiale get near you, you will not survive.”
“Which is why you will keep them away,” Aeris said. She looked over her shoulder at the yellow haze backlighting the mountains. The constant, rumbling din of Galan’s machines swelled louder. “It’s time,” she said.
August and the Horsemen fell in behind her with Cerenus and Ion at his side. Their footsteps made no sound in the soft soil as they rounded the corner and walked in silence through the twisting gap. As they marched, the light from the battlefield grew brighter until they reached the last curve in the trail. A wash of yellow light lit the sides of the small ravine. Aeris paused before she led them through.
“Past this corner lies our final victory,” she said without turning around. She sounded like she was lost in a dream. The pulse of distant thunder echoed after her. “It is time we seized it.”
August reached back and triggered his mask. His body hummed with a combustible mixture of nerves and anger.
When they stepped into the light, the curvature of the path slowly revealed the battlefield. The Orphii gathered in front of the canyon exit. The lone Mountain towered above the rest, a massive figure of stone and fire still churning with the explosive energy of Galan’s bomb. Its single eye scanned the smaller Orphii at its feet. There were maybe a hundred in all, far less than August hoped, even after what Gemini did to them. It was a sobering sight—maybe even a defeating one—but the realization couldn’t dampen what boiled inside him. After thinking he was walking to his death on Pyr, finding himself facing a different kind didn’t hurt any more or less.
The diamond eyes of the Orphii watched them as they marched through the group. Some were barely taller than August. Others were the size of a tractor trailer. At the front of the group, the Orphii parted, letting Aeris pass. She stopped when she reached the opening.
“I don’t know what I was expecting,” Cerenus said as he scanned the landscape, “but I was hoping it wasn’t this.”
Spread out beneath them, down a gradual hill and across a half-mile swath of flat earth, was an ocean of Ministers and Pyrians, sectioned into stacks of wide rectangular formations reaching all the way to the horizon. Between them were Galan’s war machines. August had seen many of them before. The ones he thought of as tanks—domed vehicles hovering above the ground—dotted the landscape. A trio of large pyramid-shaped machines with spheres of red light beneath their peaks lined the back of the army. Each was a powerful weapon capable of killing an Orphii Mountain.
“I see Tamaril,” Aeris said. She pointed to a distant figure hovering above the army, silhouetted against the red light of one of the pyramid’s weapons.
“And The Tria,” Ion added. “To the left.”
Anemolie’s champions stood outside the Ministers’ formation. Mordric positioned himself in front with Ellia at his side. Tiale sat on the ground next to them.
A small group of Ministers broke formation and walked to the front of the army. They wore white cloaks, setting them apart from the rest of the militia in dark gray. Polaris, August thought. He glanced at Aeris and saw the same recognition in her eyes. Her jaw tensed.
A shocking blast of light appeared in the sky over the Void, filling the battlefield with blinding white rays. August shielded his eyes until the flash subsided. The remnants left a residual glow over the planet. When he looked up, he saw a pair of pale faces like holograms suspended over the Ministers. The ethereal visions of Tamaril and Anemolie cast their sights down to the army below. Their light dominated the sky.
“Seems as though we will have an audience,” Cerenus said.
“Will we need to worry about them?” August asked.
The godclone shook his head. “I don’t think so. The rules still hold—I hope. They can’t hurt us or help them. They’re just here to witness.”
“They seem confident,” Ion said.
The face of Anemolie held the same expression August had seen when he’d met her on Earth. She looked hungry, like she was already spending the power she meant to claim. Tamaril was quietly confident. With his godclone hovering beneath him, he surveyed the two sides with tactician’s eyes, thoughtful and planning.
“I suppose our side will show…eventually,” Cerenus said, looking at the empty sky behind them.
Aeris walked to the edge of the natural ramp leading into the barren flats “We don’t have time to wait for them. This fight is about to begin.”
August took the spot beside her, with the remaining three Horsemen taking the other. Ion floated next to August’s side. Cerenus formed the end of the line. Behind them, the ground shook as the Orphii filled in, creating a long wall of diamond-eyed creatures born from the Void’s stony earth. The Mountain rumbled forward into position, splitting the ground as it walked.
Across from them, Galan’s war machines pulsed louder. The Pyrians began to chant, a haphazard, constant rise and fall of voices. The red light of the tanks’ cannons pulsed rapidly, matching the swelling light from the pyramids.
As the build-up to war reached crescendo, Aeris reached up and removed the golden band holding her hair back, letting her thin gray tendrils fall over her shoulders, where they brushed against Dondannarin’s chakrams slotted on her back.
Ion switched his cloudy face to a blood red. The ground beneath Cerenus’ feet vibrated as he clenched his fists.
August drew his swords.
Like an avalanche slowly gaining speed, the Ministers and Pyrians charged forward. The front lines outpaced the slow-moving machines, with the Pyrians separating themselves into the first wave. Their green-tipped spears danced up and down as they ran.
“Aeris…” August said.
“Not yet,” she replied.
Ion hummed loudly. There was a palpable rumble coming from behind them as the Orphii tensed, ready to fight.
The Pyrians screamed angry war cries as they ran. They closed the gap between the two armies quickly, shrinking the space between them to only a few hundred yards.
“Hold…,” Aeris said.
August’s fingers tightened around the handles of his blades. His breaths quickened as he stared at the wall of enemies headed toward them.
The first line of Pyrians made it to the base of the ramp. They charged with their spears above their shoulders, ready to launch. They were only a few seconds away.
Blue fire erupted from Aeris’s hands, engulfing her forearms in flame. She stepped forward and released a rolling stream of fire that shot down the hill and cut through the Pyrians like a spinning knife. The bodies of the dead fell in scorched halves to the earth.
When she turned around, wisps of fire licked around the edges of her wild eyes. “Now!” she screamed.
The Orphii shook the earth as they ran into battle, knocking aside the smaller Pyrians and crushing them beneath their feet. In the middle of their stampede, Ion rocketed toward the sky, leaving behind a trail of red as he cut across Anemolie’s visage on his way to fight The Tria.
August grabbed Cerenus’s arm before he flew away. “Take out as many of those pyramids as you can,” he yelled over the sound of the charging Orphii.
“I’ll do my best,” Cerenus called back. Like a streak of lightning, he screamed past the Orphii toward the waiting Tamaril.
August looked over at Aeris. The Horsemen caught a stray Pyrian runni
ng toward her and gutted him from stomach to neck before he ever got close.
“We take what the Orphii can’t,” she said to August. “You stay with me. Remember that.”
August nodded and followed her into the sea of Orphii.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Hearing the sound of Talus’s angry roar drove away Bear’s nerves. The crowd faded into the background of his mind. The creature stood before him like he imagined him standing before his father—hulking, teeth bared, with his ragged sword towering over his shoulder. Talus’s unblinking eyes cut from the crowd to Galan and back to Bear. His chest heaved. He walked forward to take his spot at the center of the arena. Bear moved toward the center to match him.
They came to a stop with a body length of packed dirt between them. The sea of Pyrians in the stadium rocked with anticipation. Drums pounded. Voices screamed. All the while, Bear kept an unbreakable focus on Talus.
The monster motioned with his hands for Bear to bring the fight.
“In the honor of our goddess Amara and our Mother Pyra…” the announcer bellowed.
Throm, went the drums. Throm. Throm. THROM.
“Let the ascension BEGIN!”
Talus let loose with a roar that shook the earth. Bear charged forward and tackled him to the ground.
They hit the dirt hard with Bear landing on top. He kept his arms locked around Talus’s waist, despite the crust of his skin cutting into Bear’s flesh. Where it touched his cheek, warm blood cascaded down his face. Talus forced himself off the ground, bringing Bear with him, then came down hard with an overhanded blow to Bear’s lower back. The shock was crippling. Talus took advantage of Bear’s weakened grip and tossed him like a rag doll into the middle of the arena. The crowd roared.
His back warm from the heat of his body mending itself, Bear got to his feet in time to see Talus draw his sword. The monster made sure he saw the entire act as he slipped it out of the scabbard. The ragged blade looked like it had been carved out of the black mountains surrounding the decadrome. The tip ended in a curved talon.
Talus carried it in one hand even though it looked like it weighed a hundred pounds. He twisted it in a circle once, then twice, before charging toward Bear with the blade raised above his head.
Bear ran forward to catch Talus’s hands mid-swing. The giant Pyrian pushed Bear away with ease, making his feet slide backward through the dirt. Bear dug in, struggling against Talus’s strength. His hands shook, trembling as he fought to keep the blade from coming down. Before his arms gave way, he moved sideways, letting the blade bury in the dirt, then threw an elbow that connected flush with Talus’s jaw. The blow sent Talus reeling, but only for a moment. Bear tried to go for the sword and Talus backhanded him hard enough to send him crashing into the wall of the arena. His spine slapped flush against the rough stone surface. A trickle of blood ran down the back of his head. He rushed to get to his feet, sure that Talus wouldn’t relent.
He heard the whistle of the sword before he saw it.
It was a last second swivel of his head that saved him from being split like an egg. Still, the bottom part of the blade lodged in his left shoulder. Bear screamed. The pain was blinding. He could feel the broken halves of his clavicle raking against the sword.
He pulled his shoulder free and scrambled to his feet, holding his left arm against his chest. Talus bared his teeth like a wolf, watching him inch along the wall. It would take maybe a minute or so for the break in his shoulder to heal. Talus seemed to know it.
Talus buried his stone fist into the wound, bringing fresh screams from Bear. The thorny tips of Talus’s fingers dug into the meat of Bear’s shoulder as he pulled him off the ground. Flashes of light danced across Bear’s vision. The monster wrapped an arm around his neck and started to drag Bear backwards toward the sword still buried in the wall. Bear tried to dig his heels in to stop. The ridges of Talus’s skin scraped across his throat.
The crowd’s screams reached crescendo, anticipating a quick end.
Bear buckled his legs, sending both of them to the ground, but Talus held fast to Bear’s neck. The monster’s weight was immense. Pain erupted in Bear’s spine as Talus hit him with a string of punches, each one stealing a bit more wind. Bear tried to guard himself. Talus was too powerful. His fist rocketed past Bear’s outstretched arm and crushed the side of his jaw, dropping Bear to the dirt. Unrelenting, Talus kicked him in the gut, then stomped on his chest, igniting a fire in his ribs. Bear’s throat filled with blood. Talus hit him with a driving fist to keep him flat on the ground. Delirious with pain, Bear couldn’t raise a defense as stony fingers grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air.
The crowd was a distant murmur in his mind. His thoughts were beyond his control, drifting untethered. He heard a voice and he wondered if it was Meryn, ready to fulfill his dying wish, but as his body slowly healed, the voice came into focus. It was deep and graveled, sounding like it came from the depths of the earth.
“…just like your father.”
Bear’s eyes shot open. He stared at the unblinking gaze of Talus. The monster held him around the neck with both hands, dangling him above the ground while the crowd called for Bear’s head. They were a sea of writhing masses, waving flags and chanting Talus’s name while the drums fueled their ire.
Talus brought him close enough that the heat of his breath rushed over Bear’s face. It smelled like a smoldering fire. “Weak, just like him,” he said.
Bear reached up and grabbed Talus’s wrists as the pressure around his neck threatened to cut off his air. Blood rushed to his face.
“Scream. Scream just like he did.”
His fingers dug rips into Bear’s neck.
“Scream.”
No.
Despite the pain, despite the crowd, despite the searing heat coming from the wounds on his throat, Bear tightened his hold on Talus’s wrists. He squeezed so hard, the rocky armor splintered and eventually gave way. He kept pressing, gritting his teeth as he focused all his strength. Talus’s hold weakened. Bear’s feet touched the ground again as he kept the pressure on, squeezing hard until the bones underneath give way.
With his wrists broken, Talus released his hold in a pained roar. Bear knocked his arms aside and grabbed the spikes rising out of Talus’s head, throwing all his strength into punches aimed at the monster’s ribs. He hit him again and again, not stopping even when Talus’s bones healed to the point he could try to defend himself. Bear thundered on, fracturing the stony skin into pieces with each blow. He threw one final shot, hitting Talus so hard that he came off the ground and launched backward onto the dirt.
The crowd’s voice turned from elation to anger. Talus brought his hand up to his jaw. Blood stained the front of his teeth, a thick black tar that shined like oil. He looked at the blood on his fingers like he’d never seen such a thing before. His unbelieving stare turned to Galan, watching the brawl from his vantage point above the stadium.
“That’s right,” Bear said. He pinned Talus by the throat. “There’s nowhere for you to run this time. Today you answer to me.”
Bear raised his fist and buried it in the monster’s midsection, crushing through the layer of skin. He picked the champion up, his fingers wrapped beneath the surface of the gaping wound, and threw him into the crowd.
Talus landed in the sea of Pyrians, sending a shockwave of horror through the stands. Bear lumbered toward him. When Talus gained his feet, he knocked aside the Pyrians trying to help him back in. He looked down at the hole in his gut and then back at Bear. He roared, pushing people aside and then launching himself back into the arena. Bear ran forward and caught him around the waist, then opened up a crack in the earth as he slammed him to the ground.
Dust swirled as they traded blows, scrambling to keep each other from gaining an advantage. Talus swung hard, backhanding Bear across the jaw. Bear took him around the neck and drove his face into the arena floor. Fear drove him with a rabid intensity. Not a fear of dying, but a fear of fa
iling those he meant to fight for. He threw every ounce of strength into each punch, never once letting his fatigue get the better of him—and he was tired. So tired. Still, he couldn’t quit. If he let up, he might not be able to recover.
Talus tried to get free of Bear’s hold. Bear held strong, rising to his feet as Talus pushed to his. He fought to stay in control, stumbling closer to the wall. Talus growled through the blood in his throat. He managed to slip an arm in between Bear’s, and pushed with growing strength. His eyes seemed to light up. He smiled through bloodied teeth, looking like a cat about to corner a mouse.
“No,” Bear growled.
He rammed Talus into the wall, driving him head-first into the stone. Beside him, Talus’s sword sat lodged in the barrier. The handle hung out over the dirt, too far for Bear to reach. Some of the Pyrians spit and clawed from the top of the wall as he fought to keep Talus from regaining his balance. Some threw things at him. He let the debris ricochet off his head. With his hands gripped around the spires of rock tangled at the back of Talus’s head, Bear lifted the monster back and dragged him sideways until he faced the blunt side of the sword protruding from the wall. He drove Talus’s throat into the blade. There was a choking sound as the edge of the weapon cracked Talus’s neck. The sword handle hit the ground and buried in the dirt. Talus writhed and flailed his arms, trying desperately to get free. Bear thrust him forward into the sword again. Then again. With fresh spurts of blood erupting from the creature’s mouth, Talus threw out a leg in desperation to keep him from continuing. Bear lifted a foot up and crashed it down on the outstretched leg of Talus, bending the knee so unnaturally far back, it snapped like a twig.
Talus screamed, and Bear silenced him with another crushing blow against the sword. As Talus weakened, Bear increased his attacks, driving the monster as hard as he could with each thrust. Through the fractured skin of Talus’s neck, the blue light of Amara’s energy tried feverishly to heal the wounds as quickly as he inflicted them. A thick wash of blood coated the edge of the sword. Bear took the monster’s head back one more time and slammed the weak spot of the neck onto the blunt edge. The sword broke through the exposed skin beneath Talus’s shell and wedged halfway through, stopping when it hit the vertebrae.