by Paul Kelly
“What are they doing?” whispered Sybil in confusion.
Solomon watched the scene, his brow furrowing. “Someone’s stopping them,” he murmured. “Someone’s holding them back.”
Then a strange, fearful light lit his eyes.
“Fall back!” he shouted in panic. “Retreat!”
Some soldiers glanced at him, others looked to their commander, a middle aged man with grey hair and a thick, short beard. Some laughed. None moved. Elijah didn’t need to be told twice. When Solomon said to retreat, it was time to retreat. He grabbed Sybil’s arm and she didn’t protest. Together, the two of them sprinted down the main aisle of the Temple, away from the barricades. Behind them, Solomon continued to shout warnings, but the tight lipped commander said nothing and no soldiers or Seers moved. Cursing, Solomon ran after Sybil and Elijah, sprinting down the tiled aisle. Just in time. Behind them, screams sounded as a dragon landed before the entrance. There were frantic movements as the remnants of the Future Storm scrambled back from the barricades. Within seconds they were engulfed in flames. Terrified screams echoed through the Temple as hundreds of lives were extinguished in an instant. The smell of burning flesh and metal coated the air.
The shriek of the dragon echoed through the Temple as Elijah, Solomon and Sybil ran for their lives. Behind them, smoke and hundreds of Guardians followed. Distantly, Elijah could hear shouted commands and screams as they dispatched the remaining defenders. Their footsteps echoed in the halls with a steady, rhythmic precision. They would follow them and they would find them. Elijah swallowed down his panic, clenching his sweaty palms in determination.
“Please tell me you know a way out!” he called desperately to Solomon.
“My son served here before the Silence, my rapt pupil, trust me if there was a way out of here, I’d know about it,” the old Seer replied breathlessly.
“And is there?” asked Sybil.
“Yes as a matter of fact there is!” replied Solomon, not slowing his pace.
Elijah swore.
“What?” asked Solomon.
Elijah didn’t answer, concentrating on running through the endless, square halls. If he wanted to joke when there was a damn dragon behind them that was his stupid choice. The square hallways abruptly stopped, expanding into a massive chamber whose walls and floor were entirely covered in gold. Elijah’s breath caught at the scene, but Solomon didn’t stop there. He skidded left and then right leading them down a narrow, cedar panelled corridor that ran parallel to the gold room. Behind them, Elijah could hear the Guardian’s steel tipped boots clatter on the gold chamber’s floor. They were getting closer. They followed the corridor quickly into another expansive room, which, like the rest of the Temple, was coated in cedar. Here Solomon stopped.
“There’s three levers in this room,” he panted. Behind them, Elijah could hear the Guardians giving orders, splitting up to search every corridor. It wouldn’t be long before they were upon them.
“We need to pull all three levers at the same time,” he continued. “They’ll open a door there.” He pointed at one of the wooden panels on the left hand wall. Elijah nodded impatiently.
“Sybil you take that one,” he pointed to the right at a wooden figure. “See the little statue there? Pull its wing. I’ll take the one here.” He grabbed a hold of the winged creature, twisting its wing to demonstrate. “Elijah, you have to take the one closest to the door. You have to prophesy to get it to move, it’s the only one that needs it.”
Elijah nodded and the three split up quickly. In the distance, Elijah could hear the Guardians getting closer.
“Now!” shouted Solomon. Elijah reached out towards the timeline and let it fill him.
The Temple disappeared. Suddenly Elijah was standing in the middle of a ramshackle collection of huts. The small wooden structures leaned in on each other, as if trying to stay warm in the fierce gale that surrounded them. As was the way in all of these visions, Elijah did not feel the wind but he could hear it screaming its harsh call across the landscape. In front of him, Tommen stood, his face decades younger but his eyes the same dark beads they had always been. He held a black chain, on the end of which a Wyvern lay, its wings pierced by two swords which jutted from them, its head bowed and broken. Elijah mightn’t have been able to tell most of the Wyvern’s apart but he knew it was Xanthius. He had saved his life too many times for Elijah to forget his long narrow face, the power of the timeline curling in rainbow colours underneath his crystal skin. He lay whimpering by Tommen’s feet, a strange, translucent pus oozing from his wounds. He looked younger somehow, his features softer and his body smaller. Although hunched over as he was, it was hard to tell.
In front of Tommen, a group of twenty men stood, armed with blades and cudgels, wrapped head to toe in thick leather. They wore it like armour, their stance proud and confident.
“How many of us have died underneath these treacherous creatures?” Tommen asked the men. “We came to the Skylands to build a new life for ourselves but these animals toss our loved ones from their backs like they are nothing! While these lizards multiply, our children perish in the barren lands of the Earth. No more!”
There was a bloodthirsty cheer from the men before him, their eyes bright with vengeance. In front of them, Tommen brandished his sword, holding it high as if it may soak up the rage and hatred before him.
“This one is broken,” he announced. “It will lead us to the others. We shall go and we shall take their young and we shall raise them to be obedient!”
The men cheered and followed Tommen who kicked Xanthius ahead of him, the broken creature’s wings dragging pitifully behind him.
The vision split and for a second, Elijah was back in the temple, Solomon’s voice screaming at him. Elijah shook his head. That was strange. He had the vague feeling that, outside the vision, something important was happening. He looked around himself. The wooden buildings around him had disappeared and the light had faded from the bright noonday sun to the cold embrace of night. Bright torches flared amongst the group of men that Tommen had recruited, the shadows making monsters of them all. They stood in front of a cave, the entrance dark and forbidding.
“You have to run!” Xanthius called, his voice clear in Elijah’s mind although silent to the men who surrounded him.
“Don’t worry son,” a deeper voice replied. “We’re not going anywhere. We’ll get you out of this.”
“Please run,” Xanthius begged. And then a Wyvern fell from the sky. It swooped down like a bullet, plucking up one of the men like he weighed nothing and flinging him across the rocky ground. The mob shouted in surprise, waving their fire at the night like a beacon. Then another Wyvern came, smaller and slighter than the first but no less lethal, scattering the group, its sharp claws trailing blood. The men shouted in panic, falling back into a tight cluster.
“Keep calm,” said Tommen, his voice calm and cold, as if nothing had happened. On the ground before him, a man bled out, blood gurgling from his throat. “They are only animals,” Tommen assured them. “Animals respond to incentives.”
He put a blade to Xanthius’ throat.
“Stop these attacks or we kill this one,” he announced, his voice ringing out through the night air. “You creatures may heal but I think growing a new head would be a task too great, even for you.”
Silence greeted his demand.
“Your child is wounded,” Tommen shouted out into the night. “If you come closer, I can return him to you.”
“It’s a trick!” Xanthius screamed.
“Of course it’s a trick son,” his father agreed. “But I need to get you back.” His voice was tinged with panic, the responsibility of parenthood obliterating any thoughts of self-preservation.
He stepped into the glow of the torches. Now that they were side by side, Elijah wondered how he could have imagined that Xanthius was anything but a child. He looked tiny next to his father, whose large wings were the length of t
wo grown men, side by side.
“Let my son go,” said the Wyvern, but all that escaped from his mouth was a sharp keening. “Fire.” said Tommen. A few feet away, two men appeared out of the undergrowth. There was a screech of metal. Two bolts, a foot long and an inch in diameter shot through the air. They hit the Wyvern with a sickening thud and two crossbowmen cheered, waving their weapons in the air as if hitting an unsuspecting target from ten feet away was any sort of victory. The Wyvern screamed in pain and tried to fly away, but with its wings pierced it stumbled and fell to the ground. The other men attacked it with a howl of triumph, leaping atop it with cudgel and hammer, hitting it relentlessly. Above them, there was a scream of dismay and the other Wyvern flew down, clawing desperately at the attackers. But desperation makes even the best of us clumsy and she was pulled down by the men who struck with hammer and sword until she moved no longer. Within moments, Xanthius and his parents were a whimpering heap upon the ground. Tommen smiled, his lips thin and the flames of his torch dancing in his eyes. He approached the cave mouth. Inside, four baby Wyverns huddled against a corner, their wings folded tightly against their bodies.
“Hello my children,” Tommen crooned. “We have some work for you.”
The vision faded and reality came hurtling back like a punch to the face. “Those of the Sky will enter the final resting place,” Elijah gasped. He forced the raw timeline into the wooden figure and turned its wing. Behind him and to his left, Solomon and Sybil did the same. Suddenly, a wooden panel slid open, the rock behind it grinding in protest as it moved. The Guardians burst into the room.
“Run!” Solomon shouted. Elijah didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled through the exit, with Sybil close behind him. Solomon sprinted after them and slid through the door just as it slammed shut. The lights went out and the three of them were left in darkness.
Chapter 21 – The Breach
Outside, flames were scorching the sky. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, the corpses charred and broken. Above them, the dragons still flew, dark shadows of the bright shining Wyverns which scoured the skies. Sweat dripped down Elijah’s face and his heart hammered painfully against his chest. He, Sybil and Solomon crouched behind a broken wall, watching the Pulse-Masters throw the Future Storm’s soldiers around like rag dolls. The vision was still fresh in Elijah’s mind and he looked around for Xanthius. High above them, he fought an aerial battle with the Skylanders, dodging the Guardian’s attacks and ripping them from their saddles. He fought alone and the Guardians steadily gathered around him, their attacks cracking his skin and turning his wings to rags. He’d been fighting the Skylanders his whole life. Elijah wasn’t going to let him do it alone.
“What are you doing?” hissed Solomon as he stepped out from behind the wall.
“Probably getting myself killed,” replied Elijah and he reached out for the timeline. It entered him smoothly and Elijah smiled, relishing the warm, familiar feel of the power of Prophecy. It was time to see if all those days of training had paid off. He released it. The raw timeline flew through the air, consuming one of the Guardians surrounding Xanthius. He screamed, falling from his Wyvern and landing with a sickening crunch on the ground. It was the first time Elijah had ever killed someone and yet he felt strangely calm. He didn’t look at the fallen body but at the Wyvern that was now free. It hovered in the air for a second, uncertain what to do and then it turned towards its former masters and attacked. Xanthius was no longer alone. Elijah had only a second to relish the victory before a brick wall hit him in the side of the head. He slid to the ground, stars spinning in front of his eyes. Above him a, white-robed Pulse-Master readied another strike. Then Sybil was there. She stood in front of him, her body shielding his. Elijah didn’t know what she did but the Pulse-Master cursed and moved his Wyvern away.
“I thought you weren’t going to fight them?” asked Elijah, shaking his head clear of stars.
“I’m not fighting them. I’m defending you.”
“Nice loophole.”
“Thanks.”
Elijah stood up and surveyed the broken city. The last remnants of the Future Storm were crouched behind rubble or atop of broken buildings. Above them, hundreds of Guardians flew, having long since abandoned a ground war. Height gave them the advantage. As did their numbers. And their dragons. They held all the cards – it was time to take a few of them away. Elijah reached out towards the bright tendrils of the timeline and grabbed them, flinging the raw timeline towards another Guardian. It caught one of his legs, leaving him hanging lopsidedly from his saddle before the leather gave way and the ground rose to meet him. Another Wyvern was free.
A dozen feet away, atop a nearby building, three or four members of the Future Storm noticed what he was doing and began focusing their fire on the riders, freeing more Wyverns. But more still kept shooting at the dragons, their arrows having little to no effect on the creatures’ thick scales. It was hard not to focus on a dragon when it kept trying to burn you alive. Elijah dived for cover as another swooped down on himself and Sybil, its flames scorching the ground. Once again, he reached out for the timeline, sending spinning death towards another Guardian, screaming incomprehensible prophecies as he did so.The rider fell and another Wyvern was free. Above him, the Pulse-Master still flew and Sybil’s forehead dripped with sweat as she fought to fend her off.
“I hope you have a plan here!” she shouted, as a blast of the Pulse shattered the wall behind Elijah, missing him by inches.
“It’s all just coming together now!” Elijah replied, sending another Guardian hurtling to the ground. For every Guardian Elijah and the Future Storm killed, another Wyvern was added to their ranks. Above them, Xanthius now had a force of over two dozen. They were more than a match for the Skylanders, their attacks far swifter and more nimble than the slaves their enemy controlled. But even as they fought the dragons rained fire down, burning the armies of the Future Storm alive and knocking Wyverns out of the sky with vast sweeps of their tails. But there was something strange about the way they fought. They shied away from the Future Storm and Elijah, never coming too close, their attacks always at a distance. Well when you could breathe fire, why would you put yourself in harm’s way? But it didn’t add up. For all the terror the fire caused, it was an inefficient weapon, inaccurate and easily avoided. The dragons did far more damage the closer they were to their prey. Dozens of Wyverns had been thrown to the ground when they first arrived and the attack on the Temple had left the bulk of the Future Storm’s army in a smouldering heap. Why not attack directly? Because they were afraid of them. Tommen had created the dragons. And if he had created them just a few days ago, they would be vulnerable to the raw timeline.
“Xanthius!” Elijah roared into the night. “Xanthius!” But his voice was cut down by the clash of battle, the roar of fire and the screams of the dying. Beside him Sybil rolled her eyes and suddenly, Elijah felt a wave of the Pulse just in front of him. “Eh..” he said and his voice blasted out across the city, as loud as any Siren. Sybil winced and covered her ears. Elijah felt the wave contract slightly.
“Sorry, force of habit.”
“I always did wonder how you guys got the Siren so loud…” replied Elijah, his voice echoing across the city. As one, the dragons turned towards him.
“Xanthius!” Elijah shouted, panic fuelling his lungs. Above him, the Wyvern turned, dodging an attack from a dragon and shooting towards the ground. He landed in a cloud of dust and Elijah coughed raggedly.
“This had better be good,” said the Wyvern, his voice echoing through Elijah’s mind.
“I know how to beat the dragons,” replied Elijah, leaping atop his back.
“That’ll do,” replied Xanthius, launching himself into the air with a great beat of his wings.
Below them, Sybil became an insect, continuing her own private war against the Pulse-Master above her. Elijah clung to Xanthius for dear life as they soared into the sky, trying to get a grip on the Wy
vern’s crystal scales. Seconds later a dragon reared before them. Elijah’s heart stopped. Normally, when something terrible is far away, the imagination will make a demon of it, transforming it into something much worse than it could possibly be. But up close, the dragon was even more terrifying. Its matt black scales seemed to soak up the sun, draining the light from the world. Its claws were razor sharp and seemed to tear the air itself as it clawed at Xanthius, catching Elijah in his side. Elijah screamed as his old wound was reopened, blood soaking his robe. His vision blurred, pain obscuring his other senses.
“If we are to fight, fight!” roared Xanthius, his voice consuming Elijah’s mind. Out of the corner of his eye, the timeline flickered. Elijah grabbed it, pulling it towards him, taking more than ever before. The brightness of its light blinded him and he shut his eyes against it, the multi-coloured ribbons dancing on the other side of his eye lids. He felt it fill him, flowing through his veins like fire, fiercer than the noonday sun, more enduring than a mountain. He opened his eyes and everywhere he looked, the timeline stretched, vast ribbons of time flickering and flowing across the world. Shouting a prophecy he couldn’t understand, he lifted one hand high and pointed it at the dragon. The timeline flew from him in a bright flash of light. It hit the dragon with a crash and the beast screamed. Its body began to dissolve, vast chunks of rock dripping from it and crashing to the ground. The rock itself seemed to ooze as it fell, rippling and shimmering in the evening sun. One down. And the power still flowed through Elijah as fierce as ever before. Below him, Xanthius swooped and turned through the air, dodging the flames of the remaining dragons. Elijah focused on the closest one, a huge black beast, identical to all the others, just another seething dark shadow of pain and death. And he released the timeline. The dragon roared, a last burst of fire escaping from its lungs as it died, singeing the bottom of Elijah’s robes. It collapsed before him, its huge body turning into the same strange grey rock as it fell, its surface smeared by blood. The remaining three dragons began to pull away from Elijah, their huge, ribbed wings sending them soaring into the sky. But they could not match Xanthius’ speed. The Wyvern shot upwards towards them, his wings spread as thin and sharp as a sword’s blade. The wind swept around Elijah, screaming in his ears and blurring his vision. But then, the dragons weren’t hard to spot. Inside him, the raw energy of time itself boiled and burned in his blood. He roared at the dragons in defiance, shooting a bright ribbon of the timeline towards them. It caught one of the dragon’s wings and it screamed in pain, the effect of the timeline seeming to ripple through it, consuming it. Soon there was nothing but rock and debris raining down on them. Xanthius dodged it all with ease, but the effect of using so much of the timeline was beginning to take its toll on Elijah. Spots danced in front of his eyes and he gasped for breath. But still the timeline demanded to be free of him. He looked towards the remaining two dragons who circled him warily, shooting fire from as far back as they could possibly stay. But it wasn’t far enough. Elijah drew on every last ounce of the timeline he had and he flung it at them. A solid wall of flickering, multi-coloured light erupted from him and shot across the sky. The dragons roared in fear, beating their wings in a desperate effort to get away. But there was no escaping him. The timeline consumed them and their body’s collapsed, huge chunks of liquid rock falling hundreds of feet to the ground and hitting it with a splat of gargantuan proportions. Elijah collapsed back onto Xanthius’ back, all energy drained from him. Below him, the Future Storm still fought but Elijah knew that without the dragons, the day was won. Ekriam was an Earthlander city now, the first great victory in the Second Fallen War. He smiled, adrenaline still coursing through him, sharpening every detail and making the evening sunset look brighter and more hopeful. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a hole in the world, nothing but a dark spec from this distance but still utterly unmistakable. It was a Breach and it was growing.