The Turquoise Tower (Revenant Wyrd Book 6)

by Travis Simmons

  “Lay down your arms,” Grace said. Though she didn’t speak louder than needed, her words were carried through the streets. As she spoke, her words chimed off the buildings. The song of Chaos in the stones of Lytoria stopped its malignant thrum and changed vibration. Once more the song of the Goddess lifted into the skies.

  The locusts died where they flew, hammering to the ground like rocks heaved up into the air only to plummet back to the earth.

  Now that the locusts had died, the light of the sun broke free from the darkness of the swarm to alight on buildings, but only for a moment.

  There was a reverberation to the air, and time seemed to stand still. The sun stopped its downward journey to the western horizon. Grace peered to the west, feeling her ancient enemy there, in the mountains.

  And then came the shadow, a pallor that clung to the sun like black wool pulled tight over its brightness, and the Great Realms was plunged into darkness.

  Everyone turned to look at the darkness hanging over the sun, and though they wondered what had happened, each and every person knew in their souls what was coming.

  “This is far from over,” Grace spoke into the still air. “The legions of the damned come. We need to prepare.”

  “Grace?” a voice spoke somewhere to her right, higher up than her. Grace turned to see Dalah staring down at her. Blood was soaked into the woman’s yellow robe, and her blonde hair was a tangled mess around her plump face.

  “Dalah,” Grace said, and smiled. “We need some help, wouldn’t you think?”

  “Just a little,” Dalah said, and then laughed. “I thought you were dead!”

  “This is all well and good,” Laphrael said, pacing up to Grace. She could see that he now only had one wing, the other nothing more than a bloody lump on his back. “But the danger is not yet over. I can feel the legions of fallen coming closer, pressing in on us. I’m sure you can feel it too, like bugs on your skin, increasing as they near.”

  Grace nodded, folding her hands before her.

  “What is it you plan on doing, Moonchild?” the angel asked.

  “First, we need to get the Guardians out from under the rubble,” Grace said.

  “They still live?” the angel asked.

  “Of course they live, they are immortal. Except one,” Grace said, remorse in her voice. She turned back to the heap of stones under her feet. She could feel the life of four Guardians down there, but she couldn’t feel Annbell. “My sister Annbell has died this day.”

  Laphrael shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to say or do.

  “Grace, I’m sorry,” Dalah said, now standing closer to Grace, resting her hand on the other’s shoulder.

  “She died quickly,” Grace said, but through her strength tears crowded out her vision. “She is with the Goddess now. I’m sure she could use the rest.”

  Grace gripped Dalah’s hand tightly for a moment, and allowed her body to take over. Her shoulders shuddered with sobs, and she hid her face in her withered hands. But that was all she allowed herself. Less than a moment for her body to react, to clear her mind. She pulled herself back together, strengthened by the knowledge that Annbell had passed swiftly and without pain. In time she would see her again, in the kingdom beyond the field of flowers.

  “Now, there’s much work to do.” Grace said, turning. “I can feel the host coming our way, as well as the legion, but we have to prepare to hold them off until the host arrives. We need to find out where the army from the Ivory City is, and we need to get the Guardians out here.

  “Flora,” Grace said, seeing the auburn-haired sorceress in the crowd, staring at the lumbering form of a corpse which in turn stared intently at Grace.

  “Yes,” Flora said, snapping to herself.

  “We need you to start rallying the sorcerers together. We need them to help unbury the Guardians and then take positions around the High Basilica, under the cover of buildings if at all possible.”

  Flora nodded, and started gathering sorcerers together.

  “Dalah, would you please seek out where the army is? They might not be able to do much, but they will definitely help. Laphrael, I need you to hang tight, close to me.”

  “What about . . . them?” Dalah asked, pointing to the army of undead.

  “I’m sure they’ll come in handy,” Grace said. “We will just need to see to it that they aren’t harmed. There’s nothing left inside of them but bugs and unholy power, and as much as I hate to do it, they could be a great asset in the form of protection.”

  Everyone set to work. The most important task, according to Grace, was getting the Guardians out of their entombment. She knew it would be difficult seeing Annbell again, but when the sorcerers lifted her broken, limp sister out of the mass of stones, Grace couldn’t contain herself.

  She followed to where Annbell had been carried, and kneeled down beside her sister in the charred, bloodied grass of Lytoria. With the corner of her robe, Grace began wiping away the blood and the smears of dirt from her fallen sister’s face. She brushed back stray locks of auburn hair until Annbell looked something more like the woman she had been in life.

  But even as she worked, memories of their childhood came swimming back up to her. Annbell had been a horrible bully, picking on Grace and torturing her, even going so far as to remove the heads of Grace’s dolls for sport. But now that Annbell was laid out before her, Grace couldn’t help but smile. How she hated Annbell when they were children, but how she would live through all of that a million more times just to have her sister back with her.

  “We never think time will come to claim us,” Grace said to Laphrael, who stood with his arms behind his back, watching Grace. “We think we have nothing but time. But then when it comes, when we lose a loved one, we can’t help but think of all the things we didn’t do. All the things we wished we had said, and all the things we wished we hadn’t said.”

  Grace sat back on her feet and stared up at the unnaturally dark sky. She knew more death was coming, she could see it in the darkened sun. This was Arael they were dealing with, not some caustic. Tears slid down her face as her thoughts turned back to Annbell, and she couldn’t help see her as that baleful child again who took great pleasure in nearly living in the forests near their manor home. She figured that some part of her would always remember her that way.

  “Death comes for all, Moonchild,” Laphrael said. “But she lives on, with Mother, and in the hearts of every person she ever met. Each person knew a different side of her, and she shared many gifts with many different people. Remember that this body isn’t really her; it was just hers for a time. The real Annbell transcends death.”

  Grace nodded, her gaze drifting back down to her sister. “Let’s make sure she’s put somewhere safe,” Grace told him, easing back up to her feet. “We will need to make sure she is unscathed for the funeral.”

  Laphrael nodded, gathered Annbell’s tall figure in his strong arms, and carried her back to the Votary House.

  “Grace,” Dalah said, coming up to her. “The army is a day away, maybe less. And the Guardians are all out of the wreckage, and in the Votary House. They’ve aged,” Dalah remarked.

  Grace nodded. “I guess it’s true then?” Grace said. “What would kill a mortal won’t kill a sorcerer, but every time they encounter mortal death, they age?”

  Dalah nodded. “It seems to be the case.”

  “I wonder why no one ever knew that for sure.” Grace pondered, staring up at the sun that hung unmoving in the western sky.

  “Who can say?” Dalah responded.

  Grace shrugged.

  “How are you holding up?” Dalah wondered. “And what, exactly, happened to you?”

  “I’ll be okay. And I’m not entirely sure, but I can feel the Goddess with me now, like a weapon right at hand.”

  “So the dreams were right? Your being the Moonchild is like, what? You’re her avatar or something?”

  Grace shook her head, indicating that she really didn’t know. “It all
seems so unreal.”

  “But it makes sense,” Dalah said. “You’ve been tied up in all of this angel business from the beginning. You were even the one who found Pharoh and Sylvie, and they took to you like a mother. And then you went on to raise Sylvie’s children, like a grandmother.”

  “If any of it makes sense, I think you’re right,” Grace conceded. “At any rate, it’s something of value that we can take advantage of.”

  Dalah nodded, and was on the verge of speaking when Grace’s head swam sickeningly. The power of the Crone inside of her chased away the delirium, but she could see every other person in sight stagger where they stood.

  “What was that?” Dalah asked.

  “Verax-acis,” Grace whispered, dread stealing through her soul.

  “What do we—?” but before Dalah could finish, another wave of power stole over them, and Dalah was lost to her own internal musings at the power of the verax-acis. And it was the same wherever Grace looked. Every human being she could find looked dazed, staring off at something, some point in the sky or ground, unseeing what was actually happening before them. From experience with the beasts, she knew that the verax-acis were showing them visions, and likely feeding on the minds of those they ensnared.

  “Vile creatures,” Laphrael said, coming out of the Votary House. “What are we to do?”

  “They can’t come into Lytoria while the holy power vibrates from the buildings; they aren’t allowed on sacred ground. But the problem rests in their ability to keep all of the people here unaware of reality while the fallen swoop in and take care of the clean-up.”

  “Humans and their need to talk. What, Moonchild, are we going to do?”

  Grace stood in thought, feeling the dead air heavy on her flesh, the stillness of the unnatural day. The dead shifted around her, moaning their need to spread their vile sickness beyond their own bodies. If it was a feast they wanted, Grace would give it to them.

  “Go forth!” she commanded. Spreading her hands wide she let the power of the Crone flow from her and to the dead army at her command. “There is a foe that threatens your mistress. Eliminate the verax-acis!”

  She could feel the response of the dead on her skin, pulling away from her like slime being peeled away from her flesh. They stumbled over terrain and lumbered down streets, all making their way in different directions. Grace turned where she stood, watching the army of dead leaking out through the holy city, on their way to meet the enemy.

  “It appears the verax-acis have us surrounded,” Grace said.

  “Will the dead eliminate them?” Laphrael asked.

  “It’s doubtful, but I don’t know how well the verax-acis can fight. Logic tells me if they aren’t able to confuse the mind, they are pathetic at fighting. But some of the dead look like they’re pretty far rotted, so it might be as equal a match in ineptitude as one could imagine.” Grace pulled her awareness from the retreating dead and turned to Dalah. She could feel the Dark Goddess still in her skin. While Grace knew that she was a conduit for the Crone in the realms, she also knew she wasn’t the Goddess; only a fraction of the third of the power that was the Crone. But still, she got impressions of what she needed to do, and how things should unfold.

  She touched Dalah, knowing the sorceress would wake up with just a sliver of Goddess power from Grace. She let the Crone force leak out of her and into her friend’s body. In response Dalah listed to the side, stumbled, regained her footing and blinked several times.

  “Laphrael, in a few moments, I want you to go around and awaken those that you can. We need to face this threat while they’re distracted with the dead. I would also like as many of the dead to remain alive as possible. Wait until we’re sure the verax-acis are engaged.” Laphrael nodded at what Grace said. “What do we have in the town as far as guards or soldiers?”

  “Atorva made mention of some,” Dalah said.

  “Where is the High Votary?” Grace asked her.

  “He’s dead,” Dalah mumbled. Grace only nodded her head.

  “Alright, we need to arm as many of the citizens as we can, whoever’s still left. We need to put them in ranks under the guards. Dalah, you will instruct the sorcerers in what needs to be done,” Grace told her. Dalah nodded. “We need to move swiftly. We need to dispatch the verax-acis before the fallen can get here, and we need to hole up afterwards and wait for the real fight to begin.”

  Laphrael had already left, making his way through the gathered sorcerers that had been hard at work around the High Basilica. People started coming back to themselves with blurry eyes and confused mumbles.

  “You know what to do,” Grace said, and Dalah nodded.

  Grace made her way in the opposite direction of Laphrael, waking people up with the Crone power within her. With a touch she was able to sense if there was any wyrd within the person or not, by inspection she was able to tell if they were a guard or a citizen. As the people came to their senses Grace instructed them on what they were to do. Wyrders were sent to the High Basilica, to be instructed by Dalah; citizens followed her until she found a soldier to awaken and instruct to arm the citizens and face the threat at their borders.

  In time Grace reached the edge of the city, and looked out at the melee. There were certainly more undead than there were verax-acis, and she was right. The undead had no mind for the verax-acis to feed on, and they were both evenly matched in battle. The verax-acis relied too much on their powers, and not on anything else. Grace imagined that was one good thing about keeping them captive; at least they could control what the verax-acis learned.

  But after today, there won’t be a race of verax-acis to worry about, Grace thought, looking behind her. Over the tops of the buildings she could just make out the knoll the High Basilica used to rest on. She thought of the Guardians there, and how Aladestra wouldn’t like what was happening. It was just as well that the Guardian was still recovering.

  To say Grace took no glee in killing the verax-acis would be lying. She took great pleasure in smiting them, letting the earth wyrd course through her and root them in place. She hardened their arms, hardened their legs, allowing the dead to claim their prize, tearing into the flesh of the verax-acis and polluting them with the deadly parasites their bites spread. She knew within time the verax-acis that she froze in place would join the army of undead at her command, and so their numbers would strengthen.

  There were still some of the undead that the verax-acis were able to overcome. Grace found something as simple as a scratch or a bite from the walking dead, though it didn’t appear to be lethal, had the same effect as the undead tearing into the flesh of the verax-acis.

  What seemed hours later, wyrd was flying through the air as she was surrounded by wyrders. Behind her she could hear the jangle of armor and weapons, and knew that the fighters were arriving. There weren’t a lot of verax-acis, but she was afraid that once they saw living people, they would turn their attention on the humans.

  “Try not to kill, only maim. If we allow the dead to feast, we increase our numbers against the might of the fallen,” Grace told them. She turned away from them then, confident that they would have the upper hand now. While she had hated any keeping of verax-acis in the capital city, they hadn’t been able to house many, maybe around a hundred. One hundred was a lot for people with minds. That would be enough to sweep through all the realms and destroy entire civilizations. But against the mindless dead, a hundred was nothing.

  “Moonchild,” Laphrael said, finding Grace. “The eastern side is cleared. It appears the largest amount of verax-acis were concentrated in the west.”

  Grace nodded.

  “And the Guardians are starting to come to,” he told her.

  “Good, we have work to do,” Grace said.

  It was true, the Guardians had aged. Grace was used to seeing Sara in the prime of her youth, at the age she had gone through her trials. Sara Bardoe had always appeared a healthy twenty-some years old. Now there were small crow’s feet at her eyes, and her
raven-black hair was peppered with gray near the temples. A cursory glance at the other Guardians showed less signs of aging, though Pyang did appear in his early teens now. Sara must have taken the brunt of the blow.

  Grace kneeled before Sara, who was sitting at the edge of a bed, her red-rimmed eyes staring off into nothingness. For long moments she didn’t pay attention to Grace, but eventually she spoke.

  “We were going to start hiking this coming summer,” Sara told her. “Without the use of our gifts. Do you know how often we wanted to get out and enjoy our Realm, but were never able to?”

  Grace looked to the floor, because Sara wasn’t really looking for someone to talk to as much as she was looking for someone to listen to her.

  “All of the responsibilities of government kept us away from nature, away from each other at times. She gave so much to the Realm, though I was the speaker,” Sara said.

  “Yes, Annbell was never good with dealing with people,” Grace said.

  “Not with any civility,” Sara said, and smiled mournfully. She fell silent again, prisoner to her own thoughts. Grace patted her knee and stood, looking to the other Guardians, who were now starting to assemble around them. All of their eyes were on Sara, as if with her mourning they also mourned. Grace wasn’t sure if all of the Guardians could feel the torment that Sara was undergoing or not. Are they connected like that? Grace couldn’t be sure, but they were certainly lending Sara their support.

  After a time they turned to Grace, and she filled them in on what was happening, as well as what they were to do next.

  “So I guess it is true,” Rowan said as the rest of the Guardians, minus Sara, began filing from the room. “There is something special about you.”

  Grace didn’t say anything.

  “I wasn’t completely out of it when they pulled me out of the wreckage,” Rowan continued. “Neither was I out of it while I laid beneath the stones. I had hold of your hand, and I felt it like liquid in mine, and then you were gone. When I was pulled free, I saw the army of dead standing enslaved by you.”