The Beginning After the End: Book 7: Divergence

by TurtleMe

  “And if I were to say that I have to advance?” I demanded, getting ready to release Realmheart once again.

  Cylrit’s sharp eyes narrowed, but his voice was still calm as he answered. “It is for your benefit, Lance Leywin. My master wishes to keep you in optimal health for the final battle, but partaking in the defense of the elven kingdom could make that difficult.”

  “Seris said this was for my benefit?” I said in surprise.

  “My master’s name isn’t something you should speak so casually, human.” Cylrit’s voice didn’t change, but a sharp bloodlust surged from him at the mention of the Scythe’s name.

  Matching the pressure he emanated with my own, I glowered down at him as I said, “Watch your tone, Cylrit. I chose to exchange words with you out of courtesy toward your master.”

  “Courtesy?” The Vritra’s expression darkened. “Master Seris saved your life. I suggest you heed her words and clean up the mess you’ve abandoned back at your fortress, as intended.”

  “We’re going to Elenoir,” I stated firmly, my eyes not leaving his.

  “Knowing how to sacrifice is a part of war,” Cylrit said, his tone calm once again. “Wasting your efforts here won’t help you, even if you manage to succeed in defending Elenoir.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” I growled, unable to hold back. The wind stilled and the air grew so thick it was almost tangible.

  Beside me, I could feel the worry from my bond, but in that moment, I didn’t care. I had already sacrificed lives at the Wall by making this journey, and I couldn’t let that sacrifice be in vain. A lecture on the necessities of war from a creature that, as far as I knew, could still turn out to be my enemy, would not dissuade me.

  The Vritra’s brows furrowed in frustration. “Go back, Lance. If you want even a chance of saving Dicathen, you should worry about bigger things.”

  I flew forward until I was face to face with the Vritra. “Move aside, Cylrit. You’re mistaken if you think you can keep us both here. A lot has changed since our fight against Uto.”

  Seris’s retainer held out his arm, and a thick, black fog swirled around his outstretched hand, manifesting into a pitch black greatsword nearly as long as he was tall. “Very well. If you insist on fighting, allow me to prove you wrong.”

  CURTIS GLAYDER

  “Keep your formations!” I barked from my position just behind the group of students. “Vanguards, keep your shields up! Trust in your mounts to protect your legs. That’s it!”

  The twelve students followed a predetermined path while archers, positioned a few dozen yards away, were standing ready to loose their arrows.

  “Release!” I shouted at the archers.

  A volley of blunted arrows struck the line of students, all of whom were riding clawed equines. These seven-foot-tall mounts, owned by Lanceler Academy, were unique in that they were never bred, but caught and tamed in order to keep their keen instincts and tough, muscular build. As we had practiced, the students leaned forward on their mounts and raised their shields, using their knees to buttress themselves against long-range attacks.

  Some of the students were slow in raising their shields while others weren’t able to augment their bodies in time to withstand the volley. Those unfortunate students were knocked off their mana beasts and went tumbling into the dirt.

  Grawder, my bond, grunted in disappointment as he trotted towards the students that lay groaning on the ground.

  “Tanner, Gard, Lehr,” I called.

  The three students bolted up from the ground and saluted. “Sir!”

  Stroking my world lion’s red mane, I passed by them. “Each of you owes me twenty sets of shield press—without using mana.” The three new recruits’ faces blanched at my words.

  The practice went on for another two hours as we reviewed a handful more formations. Eventually, the clawed equines had to recover, bringing the session to a brief rest.

  “All right, walk your mounts to the lake and take an hour break!” I called, hopping off of Grawder.

  We followed the students down to the late but broke off to sit beneath a wizened old tree not far from the banks. I leaned my back against Grawder, enjoying the cool breeze in the shade. One of my favorite things about Lanceler Academy was the fact that it was so close to Mirror Lake.

  Opening my dimension ring, I pulled out some dried beef and a fresh loaf of bread and watched as the students separated into their respective circles of friends. Tanner, Gard, and Lehr squatted by the edge of the lake, raising their steel shields above their heads.

  Some of the other students had already finished their light meals and began sparring with their training swords: heavy, blunted weapons that hurt like hell when they hit you but weren’t likely to do any permanent damage, so long as everyone was following the rules.

  “As expected of Lanceler students,” a familiar voice said from behind me. “Even as trainees, they can never stay still.”

  I looked up, smirking at the retired knight. “What does that make me, then?”

  “A lazy fool,” he retorted, taking a seat beside me in the grass.

  I ripped off a chunk of my bread, pulled a sealed bowl of broth from my ring—the old man’s favorite—and handed both over. “A student is only as good as his teacher, Instructor Crowe.”

  “Ex-instructor,” he scoffed, but he accepted the food with a smile. “It’s unfortunate that growing up as royalty only taught you how to talk well.”

  We sat in silence, enjoying the glittering view of the lake and the spectacle of the students making fools of themselves, either while sparring or playing in the water. The boys flocked to the few female students, showing off in whatever way they knew how. For their part, the young women teased the male students mercilessly and did their best to outperform them in increasingly difficult feats of youthful stupidity.

  “Looking at these youths frolicking without a care in the world, it’s hard to imagine that we’re in the middle of a war,” Crowe said softly.

  “I’ve heard the stories coming in from the eastern border of Sapin. I’m frustrated that I’m not there helping out. If I’m being honest, though, I’m also relieved, because I don’t think my students are anywhere near ready to face Alacryan soldiers.”

  “You know, I had been pretty discontent when I heard the news that you were coming to Lanceler. I remember thinking you were another spoiled noble that acquired a position here due to your connections.” My former instructor turned his gaze to me. “I was wrong about you, Curtis. You were hard-working from day one, and you were happy to hear your mistakes, because that gave you room to improve.”

  Not used to hearing compliments from the strict ex-knight, I felt my cheeks starting to flush. “Well, being an adequate mage and fighter is one thing, but I didn’t know anything about teaching.”

  “Exactly! Why is it so hard for some of you nobles to admit that you don’t know something, or you’re not good at it? It still baffles me, honestly.”

  “Think of it as an inferiority complex,” I said, chuckling. “Nobles are taught to hide their weaknesses—act as if they don’t have any.”

  “That’s one good thing about being in battle. At that moment, when you’re just one of the countless soldiers on the front line, all that strategic thinking—the mask you wear—it all falls away,” the old knight huffed.

  “Is that your excuse for never trying to go into leadership or strategic positions?” I smirked.

  “Why you little—” Crowe hooked me with his arm and began grinding his knuckles on my head, eliciting a groan of protest from Grawder at being woken up.

  “Okay, okay! I surrender!”

  We continued our friendly bickering, laughing like youths ourselves. Crowe had an abundance of stories to share, each one as ridiculous as the last, and we passed the rest of the short break time trying to outdo each other with stories of our students. Too quickly, it was time to return to lessons.

  “Back to the training grounds—full armor—
fifteen minutes!” I yelled. The students stiffened at my voice, then, without hesitation or protest, scurried back up the hill to the pitch.

  “They listen to you well,” Crowe commented, his expression thoughtful as he watched the students sprint away.

  “Their graduations depend on it.” I shrugged and patted the old knight on the back. “Come on, Instructor Crowe, it’s time for spear lessons and you’re still the best. I’m sure they’d love to learn from you.”

  “I may be retired, but I’m still expensive.”

  “Think of the bread and broth as payment.”

  Crowe opened his mouth to reply, but something caught his eye and he stopped. He raised his head, peering up at a figure in the sky.

  “Isn’t that a messenger?” I asked, squinting my eyes to try and see what sort of beast the flying mount was.

  The beast and rider descended, landing on the highest balcony of the headmaster’s tower. The tall, pointed structure had been constructed in the shape of a colossal lance as a symbol of our academy, as well as serving as the headmaster’s residence.

  “That’s a blade wing,” Crowe muttered, his tone serious. “There are only a few mages bonded to those beasts. If they were hired as messengers, the news must be serious.”

  I hopped on Grawder and gestured to my former instructor. “Let’s see what it’s about.”

  I waved as we passed by my confused students, indicating I would be right back, and rode through the paved school grounds toward the tall, lance-shaped tower.

  Grawder couldn’t fit in the staircase so we left him with the guards stationed outside before making our way up the tower. By the time we had reached the upper level of the spiraling stairs, we could hear muffled voices on the other side of the headmaster’s door.

  Crowe and I exchanged glances, then I turned the golden handle and opened the door.

  The headmaster sat behind his desk, his large frame slumped forward and his head buried in his hands. The messenger stood beside him, his expression fearful.

  “Headmaster Landon?” I said. “We saw the messenger and—”

  The headmaster raised a hand, not bothering to look up. “Gather your students, Instructor Curtis. Better yet, maybe it’s best you just make your journey to Kalberk now. That’s the closest teleportation gate to get you back to the castle.”

  “I’m not following, sir. What’s going on?” I shifted my gaze from the headmaster to the messenger.

  “An envoy arrived at Kalberk from Etistin this morning,” the messenger explained, his voice trembling. “A watcher flying a few miles off the coast of Etistin spotted roughly three hundred Alacryan ships approaching.”

  220

  The Weight of a Choice

  TESSIA ERALITH

  My eyes flickered open, though I found it difficult to keep them that way. My body ached and pain rolled in waves from behind my eyes and up into my temples. Backlash… from overusing my beast will, I was sure.

  I appeared to be sitting atop a small wyvern; several soldiers stood around me, their weapons drawn, but I could see that the battle had already ended.

  The battle had ended; we had won, thanks to General Aya. No post-victory glow suffused my tired body, though, because I was focused on the injured soldiers being carried off, and on the dead, who were being buried where they fell. Those bodies should have been taken to their families for a proper ceremony, but there was no time to spare for the dead. There was an army of Alacryans still marching toward Zestier city, into the very heart of the elven kingdom.

  How many of those being buried now would have survived the battle if not for my foolishness?

  I tried to shake off the dark mood that seemed to have fallen over me, but Vernett’s taunts still echoed in my head. It was with a melancholy gaze that I looked out over the battlefield watching the clean-up effort from my perch atop the wyvern. Then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye that drew my attention.

  I scrambled off the winged reptile, alarming the soldiers on guard. My tired legs buckled and I stumbled, landing hard in the dirt. One of the guards gently pulled me up to my feet and gestured toward the wyvern. “Head Tessia. Please remain on the mount in case anything happens.”

  Wordlessly, I started running.

  It can’t be.

  I pushed my way through the crowd of medics and nurses tending to the injured, my eyes glued to an emitter kneeling next to a familiar figure. It was Caria… and she was unconscious. I nearly threw myself atop her, but a hand blocked my path.

  I looked up to see Darvus, stony-eyed and wearing an expression that I’d never seen before. “She was just barely able to fall asleep with a sedative. Don’t wake her up.”

  Stannard was also nearby, disheveled and covered in dirt. After seeing me, though, he looked away.

  Neither appeared to have any injuries besides a few scratches and scrapes, but the same couldn’t be said for Caria.

  I watched, horrified, as the emitter continued closing the wounds on her left leg… or rather, what was left of it. The man had his hands clasped over the mangled stump, blood gushing between his fingers. Then the skin began to stretch and grow, knitting itself together to form a lumpy knot of flesh.

  I had known that emitters couldn’t regenerate new limbs, but seeing the healed stump of Caria’s leg, which now ended just above the knee, it hit me that this was real, irreversible.

  The bright and energetic Caria, whose talent as an augmenter was only outshined by her love for martial arts, would never be able to walk on her own two feet again.

  “H-how…” I stammered, my vision blurry with tears.

  “How?” Darvus snarled. “You leave us to go on your own solo crusade and—”

  “Stop, Darvus. People are watching.” Stannard pulled Darvus away. “I apologize for his outburst, Head Tessia,” he said, and though he met my gaze, it was as though he were looking straight through me.

  I shook my head. “Stannard…”

  He turned away, moving to stand by Caria and speaking to the emitter in a low voice.

  Caria’s injury was the blow that really drove it home. Darvus was right. It was my fault. I should have been there to protect her. I let her down.

  “It’s time to go,” a familiar voice said from behind me.

  I didn’t look back—my eyes remained focused on Caria in her peaceful slumber. How would that change when she woke up? Would she blame me like Darvus and Stannard obviously did? Would she hate me?

  I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, imagining her future. Her time as a soldier and adventurer was over. She would have to return home, perhaps go back into service with the Clarell household. Would they even have her, with a missing leg? Perhaps I could have my parents bring her on within the Zestier estate, if it survived the coming battle—

  “Tessia Eralith.”

  The voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Turning around, I found General Aya behind me with several guards.

  “The rider is ready to depart. You’ll be going back to the castle immediately, Head Tessia,” the general stated as she turned around.

  “The castle?” I replied. “I don’t understand. The Alacryan army is marching towards Zestier right now. There’s no time to visit—”

  General Aya gave me a sharp look over her shoulder, cutting off my words. “Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. You are to be withdrawn from battle until further notice.”

  My stomach dropped. “Wait, no—General! I—I can still fight! Please.”

  Though she kept her voice polite, I could sense the Lance’s impatience. “I have already informed the Council that you are unfit for battle. Please be wary of your position as an Eralith, and do not make a scene.”

  No, no, no! I needed to fight—I needed to make up for my mistakes. I needed to show Caria and everyone else that I could do better!

  As Aya began to walk away, her dark hair billowing behind her, I grabbed onto her arm. “General, I’m one of the few silver core mages ready to fight. I
can’t just hide in the castle while the elven kingdom is under—”

  “Your job was to hold a line and prevent the enemy from pursuing a slow-moving civilian caravan until backup arrived. From what I’ve been told, you abandoned your position as leader of this unit in favor of playing the hero.” The Lance pried my fingers off her arm and regarded me coldly. “The remainder of your unit that is still fit for battle will join my division effective immediately.”

  The Lance’s words crashed down on me like an avalanche, freezing me to the core. She turned away, dismissing me as if I were a child, and handed the wyvern-rider a scroll. “Take her straight to the castle and get this to Commander Virion.”

  Before mounting the wyvern that would take me away from Elshire, away from Elenoir and my chance to defend my home, I allowed myself one last furtive glance back at Darvus and Stannard.

  Neither would look me in the eye.

  The hollowness I felt at that moment hurt more than any injury I had suffered fighting by their side.

  VIRION ERALITH

  It was chaos. Live updates—a majority from Zestier City—were being branded onto the transmission scrolls faster than we could sort and read them. Piles of the communication artifacts were littered all over the meeting room, and the Councilmembers hurriedly flipped through more.

  The frantic pace of the news rolling in only fueled the fiery tension that had already built up in the room.

  A sudden thud drew my attention to Alduin, who had thrown a stack of transmission scrolls on the ground. My son grabbed Blaine Glayder by his collar and slammed him against the wall.

  “Look at these reports from Elenoir, damned you,” he hissed. “I warned you, Glayder. I warned you!”

  The guards had stepped forward to break up the confrontation, but I gestured for them to stay back.

  The former King Glayder, usually so proud, looked… ashamed. “It was impossible to predict something like this could happen, Alduin.”

  “Impossible?” Alduin spat, his face within an inch of the human’s. “An army of Alacryan mages is currently approaching Zestier, the very heart of Elenoir. The death toll will be catastrophic—there are barely enough soldiers in Elenoir to implement our plan for evacuation, because you refused to allow us to relocate our own soldiers to protect their homes, yet you look me in the eyes and tell me it was impossible to predict?”