The Third and Fourth Legion jogged forward, toward each other, to crush the nekerpum between them. The Third Legion halted just short of the nekerpum, to give the kailum and the maghem the opportunity to try out their new method of attack. The captain of the Eighth Company rode back from the front and center of the Third Legion.
“The legion commander agrees that your idea has merit,” she said, “so he will signal the fourth that we, the third legion, will angle our attack toward the pass and the rear of the nekerpum. He will signal when he wants us, the Eighth Company, supported by the Ninth and Tenth, to break toward Xythrax.”
Marilee and the other squad leaders of the Eighth Company nodded.
“Grelsor,” Delgart asked after their captain rode off, signaling that they begin using their new attack on the nekerpum, “could you put the disruption enchantment on my sabers?”
“Maces work better against the purgle . . . ,” Grelsor started to say.
“But the nekerpum have more flesh,” Delgart interrupted, “so the blades would be better.”
Grelsor shrugged. “They are harder to disrupt, but we can enchant your swords,” he said, reaching out with his staff. He chanted the words and touched each of Delgart’s sabers; both blades glowed with green light.
Delgart turned to see how the battle progressed. The First and Second Legion had turned to face the nekerpum pursuing them; the Fourth had crashed into the other side, angling toward the First and Second Legions, attacking as he had seen. The Third stood motionless; balls of green-glowing ice began flying toward the purgle on their side of the pass, and this first volley melted the purgle and nekerpum facing the Third Legion, like morning frost touched by the first light of the dawn. As the second volley of ice balls sailed toward the next closest purgle, these shielded themselves from the exploding balls, so that the disruptive effect of the orthek only destroyed the nekerpum in the radius of the blast’s effect. This, however, was almost as useful as hitting the purgle himself, so the kailum and maghem of the Third Legion continued to send the disruptive balls against the purgle. The second rank of companies of the Third Legion moved forward as the entire legion spread out on the flank of the army of nekerpum. The captain of the Eighth Company saw the signal she was waiting for, and turned her company to jog along the flank of the enemy toward Xythrax; the Ninth and Tenth companies followed to help the Eighth drive as close as possible to Xythrax, giving their tekson a better opportunity to attack Xythrax directly. Taking a hint from the eighth squad, the kailum and maghem of each squad cast the disruptive enchantment on the blades of their squad’s swords, hoping that the orthek would remain effective until they got closer to their target. Xythrax had surrounded himself with, not only corpses of wethem size, but also corpses of megatrem, krugle, and wedaterem, fewer in number, but the battle presence of each one more than made up for the difference in numbers.
When the eighth squad’s turn came, Delgart leapt to the forefront; his pair of green-glowing, curved blades flashing light like lightning around him, disrupting any nekerpum his blades slashed. Delgart’s prowess inspired the rest of his squad to greater achievement; no one was lost from their squad the first time the squad moved forward and pushed to the right, rolling back and returning to the breach for the second time. The other squads were not so lucky; the screams of pain and terror rose around them. When a squad pushed to one side or the other, the kailum and maghem of the squad would take their moment of standing still as an opportunity to send a disruptive ice ball toward Xythrax. The chief purgle easily blocked these flying ice bombs, bouncing them back, but the nekerpum surrounding him, some of the largest, withered under this icy rain. Xythrax raised his rod to the sky, and suddenly, the sky grew dark; angry red clouds developed and covered the sun. Streaks of flames fell like rain, pelting the seklesem of the Eighth Company and the nekerpum near them with fist-sized hail of molten stone. Not all of the kailum noticed in time to raise shields of stone, or shields of flowing water, effectively to block the rain of fiery stone: the third and fourth squads, fighting at the front of the company wedge, were decimated by Xythrax’s orthek. When the sky cleared moments later, Delgart saw that more of the nekerpum were destroyed by the orthek than his fellow seklesem, but Xythrax could more afford to lose his own troops than could the seklesem. Xythrax waved his arms and the nekerpum around him shifted to his front; Delgart reckoned that Xythrax must have realized their plan of attack and his danger.
Delgart leaped forward again with his squad, to fill the gap left by the death of most of the third and fourth squads, and the nekerpum fell under the green-glowing blades of the eighth squad. As they pushed again to the right and rolled back, sending another volley of disruptive ice balls, Delgart noticed the ninth and tenth companies following. He turned to look forward and realized two important things.
“This is not going to work,” Delgart said to Grelsor. “Xythrax will simply block our ortheks and rain fire down on us.”
“We just have to keep doing it,” Grelsor said, “as long as we can. Once the Ninth and Tenth catch up to us and begin lobbing ice balls at him, sooner or later, one of them will get through.”
“A lot of us will die between now and then,” Delgart replied.
“As long as we keep him busy,” Luthina added, “he does not have time to raise any more nekerpum.”
“Yes,” Delgart said, “and look what he has done: he has moved the nekerpum from behind him to fill the gaps our ortheks, and his, have created in front of him, leaving his back unprotected. If I could get behind him, somehow, he would be forced to turn and face me, and you could hit him from behind.”
“Maintain!” their captain shouted, waving a red pennant. The company’s progress had ground to a stop.
“Your plan has merit,” Grelsor shot back, “but I do not think I could toss you that far, nor do I think you could leap that far.”
“Leap?” Luthina said, looking puzzled, but then her face changed. “The escape orthek!” she exclaimed.
“Escape orthek?” Grelsor asked.
“We maghem have an orthek,” Luthina went on, “that we call the escape orthek: it allows us, if we are overwhelmed by enemies, to make a great, backward leap, getting us out of immediate danger.”
“It is seldom used,” Hrelga noted without turning, “as the space behind the maghi has to be clear for at least fifty feet.”
“That would be just enough,” Delgart noted, dispatching another nekerpu with a flash of green light.
Grelsor looked toward Xythrax and shook his head. “It wouldn’t be,” he said, “it would land you in the middle of the largest nekerpum next to Xythrax.”
“One of us could lift him up,” Hrelga said, “then the other could cast the escape orthek on him; that would give him the extra distance he needs to get there.”
“Just do it!” Delgart exclaimed. “We cannot hold out much longer!”
The Third and Fourth Legions had both stalled in their forward progress; the First and Second were driven back; all were taking heavy casualties, further enraging the nekerpum.
“Face the direction you wish to go,” Luthina said.
“I thought you said it was a backward leap?” Delgart said.
“I’ll substitute ‘forward’ for ‘backward,’” Luthina said, “that way you can see where you are going.”
Grelsor touched Delgart’s swords again, renewing the disruptive orthek.
Marilee turned to him, holding out her sword. “Mine, too,” she said, looking sideways at Delgart out of the corner of her eye.
Grelsor gave her a sharp look but did not speak; he touched her sword with his glowing staff.
Hrelga pointed her rod at Delgart. “Steighud-ko,” she said, lifting Delgart into the air.
“Not too high,” Grelsor said, “or he will land badly.”
Delgart floated about shoulder height above the ground, facing Xythrax, swords ready.
Luthina raised her rod, holding it upright. “Pedamoro-port,” she said, and i
n the time it took her to lower her rod and touch Delgart’s right boot, Marilee sheathed her sword and jumped up, wrapping her arms around Delgart’s waist. Both flew forward over the heads of the nekerpum between the eighth squad and Xythrax, landing just behind the chief purgle. Marilee let go of Delgart, pulling her legs forward so that she could land on her feet running; Delgart did the same, turning and shooting an angry glance at her. She smiled in response and drew her sword, moving to attack Xythrax; Delgart ran toward the purgle, but slowed, seeing first Grelsor, then Luthina, flying toward them. Grelsor rolled several times before getting to his feet; Luthina landed on her feet as gracefully as had Marilee.
“What are you two doing here?” Marilee hissed.
“You’re one to ask,” Delgart quipped.
“You need us,” Grelsor spoke softly. “He is a powerful black maghi, and you need us to protect you from his ortheks.”
The three of them grinned at Delgart, who frowned back.
“We’ll need to break his shield first,” Luthina said.
Delgart shook his head. “Let’s go, then.”
Delgart crept forward carefully, hoping that Xythrax would not notice them until they attacked. The chief purgle pointed his rod toward the squad attacking him with disruptive ice balls, and a bolt of blue-white lightning shot toward the squad, forking into four separated bolts that struck the two kailum and the two maghem square in each chest. From each of these four, smaller bolts shot, striking the other members of that squad, holding them shaking in place. Seconds later, the first four exploded, stunning the rest. The nekerpum pulled down the stunned members of the squad, tearing them into pieces that were quickly eaten. Delgart, Marilee, Grelsor, and Luthina exchanged looks; Delgart knew that could happen to them, if they did not strike quickly. They stopped at the point where they could just see Xythrax’s shield shimmering in front of them.
“As soon as the shield breaks,” Grelsor whispered, “attack; we will have only moments.”
Delgart nodded; Grelsor and Luthina raised glowing staff and rod, each stabbing his staff or her rod into the clear shimmering shield around Xythrax; green and white sparks exploded from the point where staff and rod contacted shield. Grelsor and Luthina continued chanting the shield breaching orthek, pouring more energy into the shield; sweat beaded on both their foreheads, running down their cheeks and streaking the dirt on both their faces. Xythrax turned to see who attacked him from behind, and to strike at them, when he saw Marilee and Delgart, weapons poised, he laughed, sounding like dry bones clinking together. As they had seen before, he became a bolt of red lightning, shooting into the sky and toward the north; he dropped something small and red as he shot into the air. Both Grelsor and Luthina grabbed Delgart and Marilee and pulled them to the ground. Light grew brighter, and the thing dropped by Xythrax exploded into a ball of expanding fire. As the light brightened, Grelsor raised his staff and shouted the orthek, “plotuskoit!” Even as Delgart felt himself singed by the expanding flames, Grelsor’s shield of flowing water covered them and quenched the flames, but then the shock wave from the explosion hit them, wiping out all conscious thought.
#
As the echoes from the blast died away, a whispering breeze blew across the battlefield from the southwest, and the fighting paused to hear the words whispered by the wind. The maghem across the battlefield heard the words of a orthek that they should chant; all raised their rods to the sky and began to chant the words they heard. The seklesem heard whispers telling them to defend their maghem and kailum from all attacks, so that the maghem and kailum could work without interruptions; all surrounded each squad’s tekson, turning their faces and swords to face the nekerpum and their purgle masters. The nekerpum and purgle heard words that pacified and slowed them, making them more easily cut down by the seklesem as they began to move in slow motion. The kailum heard other words, as dark clouds gathered overhead, words that they, too, should chant, while pointing their staves at the storm gathering overhead; all kailum raised their staves and started to chant. The winds whipped around them; green light flashed across the dark clouds followed by rumbling thunder that shook the ground. The nekerpum and purgle cowered under the sound, but the seklesem felt only hope as cherry-sized hail began falling from the storm clouds, but this hail was surrounded by green light, and any nekerpum or purgle hit by one of the hailstones shuddered and fell to dust. Moments later, all the maghem and kailum stopped chanting, letting their arms holding rods and staves fall to their sides; the clouds cleared and the bright sun shone down on the entrance to the pass, miraculously cleared of all nekerpum and purgle.
Chapter 17
Most physical trauma can be easily repaired using healing ortheks; mental and emotional trauma are not reparable by any means we now possess. Only the Founders were capable of this kind of healing, but their secret has been lost. . . .
Relana, Headmistress of Shigmar, 2370-2414
Light flashed brightly around them as they stepped through the doorway behind the throne, and into a large rectangular room, lit by magluku glowing in the room’s four corners. Klaybear, Thal, Blakstar, and Tevvy stood facing a set of large, double-doors, ornately carved with the same symbols as they had seen on the front of the temple on the lonely hill. A symbol representing each order, including Tevvy’s, surrounded the largest symbol, half on each door, which represented the order founded by Shigmar. Two statues made of some gray material stood on either side of the doors. Each statue was ten feet tall, holding a large mace in each right hand. The statues had round, fat bodies with round heads, chubby cheeks, and beady, black eyes that stared at them no matter how they moved. Seeing no other door from the room, not even back to the throne room they had just left, they walked slowly forward toward the doors, eyes wary and hands on their weapons. When they were feet away from the door, the statues on either side moved suddenly; their motion was quick and graceful, belying their rotund form, crossing their huge maces and blocking the door.
“Who are you?” a cavernous voice demanded.
“We are the chosen,” Klaybear stammered, “come to retrieve the staff of Shigmar.”
“The sign has been given,” the left figure replied.
“The tokens noted,” the right added.
“Final proof is necessary before access can be granted,” the left said.
“What proof do you require?” Klaybear asked.
“You must unlock the doors,” the right said.
Klaybear turned to Blakstar. “I think we need your sword,” he said.
The kortexi stepped forward, drawing his sword. The statues looked down at Blakstar, studied his sword for a moment.
“The second key?” the left asked.
Blakstar nodded and turned back. “The key I loaned you,” he said to Tevvy, “the one that opened the monument in Kalbant and the door into this room.”
“Right,” Tevvy said, holding out the key; Blakstar snatched it from him, holding it up for the statues to examine. They looked at it for another moment, then withdrew their maces.
“Access granted,” the right said, “once you prove they are genuine by opening the door.”
The slot for the sword was on the right door; the keyhole was on the left. Blakstar slid his sword into the slot, then fitted the key into the lock and turned. There followed a sharp click, then the doors swung silently back; Blakstar pulled out his sword and the key, handing the key back to Tevvy. The two statues relaxed and moved back to their former places at either side of the doors.
“Enter the tomb of Shigmar,” the left said.
“Within find the final resting place of Shigmar,” the right said.
“May the chosen of the One succeed in their quest,” the two said together, sounding as if they were one.
In the center of the small, square room they saw a stone sarcophagus, its lid carved with the symbol of the order founded by Shigmar. Lying on top of the symbol and coffin was a thick wooden staff, its cap and heel metal, the cap shaped like an elongated
version of the symbol carved into the sarcophagus, but in place of the eye-symbol in the palm of the hand was fixed an eye-shaped emerald, its longer axis aligned with the length of the staff; other, smaller gemstones were arrayed around the emerald, at the base of each finger, black and white diamonds embedded in the wrist of the hand-shaped head. The emerald glittered in the magluku lighting the room. Just beneath the symbol, they could see letters inscribed in the metal, but only the first word was visible. Without picking up the staff, Klaybear turned it carefully and slowly, and they saw the second word, then the third, and also noticed that the eye-shaped emerald was visible on both sides of the iron palm as were the smaller stones, the hand-shaped symbol giving the illusion of both right and left hands.
“Breath-giver,” Thal noted.
“That’s a big emerald!” Tevvy exclaimed at the same time.
“Is that right?” Blakstar asked. “I thought you said it was called, ‘life-giver?’”
“It is the breath of life,” Klaybear replied.
“And without it,” Thal added, “we are dead. So it is another metaphor, like yours.”
“It is also another name for the spirit,” Klaybear went on, “called by some the life-force or essence.”
“We call it the ‘soul,’” Tevvy put in, but his eyes were still fixed on the emerald.
“Don’t even think about it, thief!” Blakstar snapped, one hand going automatically to the handle of his sword, which caused the golden topaz to flare brightly.
“I wasn’t!” Tevvy replied, his tone injured, “I was only admiring its beauty.”
“Sure you were,” Blakstar replied skeptically.
“Quiet! Both of you!” Thal hissed. “It’s doing something to Klaybear!”
The staff felt alive to Klaybear’s touch. Grasping it firmly with his left hand, he lifted it off the lid of the sarcophagus and felt the staff alive within his hand; as soon as he touched it, the emerald-eye flared brilliantly, surrounding the hand-shaped cap, then moving down the staff and up Klaybear’s arm, quickly encasing him in an aura of emerald light. He could almost see it moving, growing, beneath his fingers. He felt great power coursing through it, heard the staff calling to his mind, saw the green light clouding his vision, and he allowed his awareness to sink into the staff. He suddenly saw himself on a hill north of Shigmar, looking down on the battle raging before the gates. A red aperu flew west from the gate above the wall, releasing the fury of its fiery breath against the defenders on the wall, burning them to ashes, their screams of pain filled his ears and mind; an orange aperu flew east from the gate above the wall releasing its acidic breath onto the defenders of the wall, reducing them to forms unrecognizable as human, howling as they melted. Blue and yellow aperum flew back and forth over the city, releasing ice and poison gas upon those not hiding within their homes. Krugle and megatrem stood before the gate, wielding a huge iron clad battering ram; the gates crumbled with a resounding crash, and the hordes of wedaterem, purem, and ghelem waiting on either side of the gate, shouting in triumph, surged into the breach. The city burned; its inhabitants died. He raised the staff, alive in his hand, and all went eerily and suddenly silent; he shouted words he could not hear, and a wave of destruction moved outward in a circle from the staff in his hand, destroying all life it touched, both animal and vegetable, both friend and foe. The living essence flowed back from the wave and into the staff in his hand, and he saw their faces, twisted by pain and anger, flashing past his vision as the staff sucked them into itself. Sound crashed into the silence, and he heard himself wail, felt a hand on his shoulder, and found himself standing next to Shigmar’s coffin, looking into Thal’s eyes.
The Redemption, Volume 1 Page 60