“Be ready!” Julien ordered. The old kinetic turned on his cane to face the wide pane of glass at the head of the stair. Below in the gallery, the machines whirred into motion.
Without much warning, the glass burst open and a stream of black clad men swung into the college on thick ropes. Julien spun to action, sending small, quick balls of fire into each of the intruders, the force of the blasts sending many of the men toppling back out into the night.
“Aha!” He laughed as the men screamed as they fell away. The sound of battle rang up through the gallery, and Julien allowed himself a moment to check on his machines.
Julien’s stomach clenched tight as he beheld the scene below. Unlike the men he had blasted with fire, his legion of golems were facing off against a foe far more superior than anything Julien ever witnessed. Pouring through the corridors and front doors of the college was what seemed an endless stream of corpses, all in varying states of decay. There was vibrancy in the cadavers’ step, one Julien had never known in any living human being, kinetic or otherwise, and the beasts would not stay down.
One of Julien’s golems threw one of the dead men across the gallery, smashing its body against stonewall. The man stayed down for no longer than a second before rising again to rush back into the fray. Another of the constructs tore a cadaver in half, but the upper portion continued fighting. There seemed to be nothing to stop the tide of this foe.
Julien was too distracted with the horror below that he had not seen a new wave of Imperial troops swing in through the broken window. When he finally noticed them, it was too late. They had kicked his cane out from under him and pulled his kinetic lenses off his head.
“Let me go!” He shouted.
“Shut yer mouth old man.” One of the soldiers hissed as a blast of canon fire struck the gallery’s roof. Beams of wood and chunks of shingles fell into the lower hall, crushing a handful of Julien’s machines
Another man struck Julien across the face with a backhanded blow. The pain was incredible. Blood that tasted of ash welled in Julien’s mouth as the men of the Imperial Order tied a rope tightly around Julien’s waist. One of the men gave the rope three tight tugs. As if on queue, the rope pulled tight, sucking him from the warmth of the college and out into the bitter cold of night.
Even with his eyes shut tight to prevent disorientation, Julien could tell he was being hoisted to the deck of one of the ships. Canon fire filled the night air, followed by sickening blasts as the rounds found the college.
“Why?” Julien whimpered as he swung in the night air, slowly being pulled higher.
“Because.” Rosemary’s voice was soft and sad amongst the noise of battle. “It is necessary. “
Rough hands grabbed Julien and seconds later his feet were placed firmly on the wooden deck of an airship. His pyrokinetic lenses were returned to his head. Blinking several times, Julien’s vision adjusted to the dim everflame lanterns on the ship’s deck.
“What is necessary,” A young man’s voice declared. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Julien looked over the crew of the ship. Many of them were too occupied with manning the canons to pay the old kinetic much mind. A figure crossed the deck, accompanied by two others. One was a woman, whose gait Julien knew all to well.
“Rosemary?” He asked as the Speaker of the Commons came into view. She looked worse for wear, but seeing a physical embodiment of the woman filled Julien with a sense of relief, yet confusion at the same time.
“Aye,” the young man said. “Alive and well.” He looked Rosemary up and down. The man smiled. “Alive at least. And I am Merrick.”
“What is going on here?” Julien demanded.
“You are in no place to make demands old man.” Merrick said.
“Rosemary?” Julien asked.
“You do not speak to the lady.” The man’s voice was firm. “Look with me.” Merrick crossed the remainder of the deck, coming to stand beside Julien. “Please, I insist.”
With a lingering stare to Rosemary, Julien obliged Merrick’s request.
“You see there,” Merrick pointed to the burning college of kinetics. “That is what is happening across Wynne. We are burning the sickness out of this wonderful world we live to pave the way for a future our children can be proud of; a future where the strong survive.
‘But it is not all about strength, don’t get me wrong.” Merrick continued as a tower collapsed on itself. “We are building a future for Wynne; a unified future where poverty does not exist.”
“By using the dead as enforcers?” Julien asked. A loud cracking filled the night air as the roof began to cave over the grand gallery.
“A wonderful invention of our glorious leader, yes?” Merrick smiled. “When the world is full of blind fools, one must find a means of defeating his foe in every way possible.”
“How do you mean?” Julien sighed. He was exhausted from his brief battle and did not care for the ramblings of a mad man.
“First, you learn his secrets.” Merrick motioned to Rosemary. “Learn where the foe is weak, what will break him.”
“Rosemary?” Julien looked at the woman he had cared for. “You are in league with them?”
“Julien, I…” A man slapped her across the face.
“Ser, you must remember the rules.” Merrick tsked. “We do not speak to the lady. But to answer your question, yes, Rosemary has been aiding us for quite sometime. She has fed us with rather useful information about you, the kinetics, Valvius and the other provinces. We have learned how best to hurt our foes. Though, in the lady’s defense, she did not do it willingly.”
‘Once we learned everyone’s soft spots, we then worked on demoralizing the provinces.” Merrick reached into his pocket and retrieved a cigarette. He took a match and lit it against the rough wooden guardrail of the ship. “Lovely weather isn’t it?” He smiled as he lit his smoke, tossing the match over the side.
“You are behind the adverse weather afflicting Wynne?” The sick realization hit Julien like a ton of bricks. It all made sense. The drought in Valvius, the snows in Gossac and continual rains of Pozo had all been a part of this Order’s plan; this Order desired to break their quarry before the outbreak of war.
“I see you are a smart one,” Merrick teased. “Must be why the council respected you so. But yes, this,” he indicated to the falling flakes of snow. “Is our doing.”
“Then you began your rein of terror against Valvian people all over Wynne.” Julien stated, putting it all together. “To further weaken their resolve.”
“My, my. Perhaps too smart.” Merrick tsked again. “Yes, you are right. And when the time was right, we brought war to Wynne. With the combined might of the Imperial Order and our allies, both living and dead, we will bring about the changes our glorious leader desires.”
“Garius Syrah?” Julien asked.
“Yes.” The young man agreed. “He mentioned in a telegram you might have put the pieces together. He has a message for you.”
“Is that so?” Julien slid his lenses back up his nose.
“Aye.” Merrick turned to rest his weight on his elbow against the edge of the airship. “He says; told you I would make them pay.”
“Of course.” Julien said.
“But, enough of this. I have something to show you.” Merrick pushed away from the guardrail and gave a sharp whistle.
Suddenly, the canon fire ceased. The school below was battered and many sections of wall were blown wide open. Below, the shambling undead legion filtered into the Garden D’Lune. Julien noted that none of the constructs gave pursuit.
“Our glorious leader does have another gift for you.” Merrick said as a group of men came forward with a chest. “He says he has been saving it for a long time.”
Julien’s heart broke when the lid was opened, revealing a dozen skulls. Each of the grizzly trophies was about the size of a young adult.
“He says this should give you some closure to an age old mystery.” M
errick said.
“Your leader knows I knew it was he all those years ago.” Julien said. “I told him as much then.”
“Aye, he said you would say that.” Merrick dragged the chest to the edge of the deck and hoisted it onto the railing. “He says it is to give you closure knowing you had found the pupils he had taken. Now,” Merrick shoved the chest of skulls over the edge into the abyss. “They are returned to their bodies.”
“You are a cruel man.” Julien said through gritted teeth. “Those should have been returned to their kin.”
“You talk too much,” Merrick waved a hand in annoyance. “I do have a final gift from our glorious leader.” The young man reached to the side of the railing and fumbled with a latch. The protective wall blew open as the boarding door swung on its hinges. “Come, look.”
A pair of rough hands grabbed the old kinetic from behind. They shoved his head out over the dark night, looking over the destruction below. Julien noted the number of cadavers was smaller than he initially thought, and many were in a terribly, broken state.
“Our dear friend Zehr, had been tasked with a duty to prepare for this night.” Merrick sniffed as snot threatened to fall out of his nose. “It was meant for both you and our glorious leader, however, there was an incident that has prevented him from joining us tonight. So the show is all for you.”
At the signal of another sharp whistle, the airships released a bombardment of kinetically imbued canon fire into the grand gallery. After two volleys, Julien could hear the faint sound of a roaring fire. Though, this fire sounded wild and out of control. With a sudden blast, the roof of the college blew out into the night’s sky, sending wood and shingling high into the air. Below, a chain reaction of perfectly placed explosives brought the college of kinetics tumbling down.
Julien didn’t know how to feel. So much had come to pass in such a short time. The one place he had always felt safe and secure was now being brought to ruin by the deceit of countless people, including the woman he had cared for. There was anger, sadness, and confusion swirling in his ancient mind as he hung out over the night, watching the college burn.
“What now?” Julien asked, trying his hardest to keep his lenses on his face.
“Now?” Merrick asked, seemingly confused.
“Yes.” The old kinetic said. “You have destroyed the college. You have your war. What now?”
“That is easy,” the young man said. “But none of it concerns you.”
Suddenly, the solid deck went out from under him. Cold wind slapped his face, ripping his lenses from his face; the howling wind in his ears deafened the old man to the sound of the blasts and fires below. He knew he raced to meet Del Morte. There was no denying it. He had learned all the truths he had sought in these few months, there was nothing left for Julien in Wynne. Yet he was not ready, not like this.
Using what little strength he could muster, he turned his body so he could look up at the quickly receding airship. Rosemary’s screams issued from the deck amongst the bawdy laughter of the men of the Imperial Order. Summoning all his might, Julien DiMarco focused his last bit of energy into setting a blaze. Through the confusion of free falling to the snow covered ground below, and the lack of lenses to support his vision, the old kinetic could not discern where his final gout of flame went. All he could do was smile with contentment as the satisfying crack of wood rupturing filled the air. Terrified screams of men joined the destructive ambiance of the night as Julien’s final bout of fire tore the vessel in half.
Only then was Julien DiMarco, the former headmaster of the college of kinetics, and most revered member of the Council of Wynne, able to accept the fate he now rushed towards.
About the Author
H.G.Howell was born and raised in London, Ontario, where he currently resides with his loving family. He studied journalism at Niagara College. This is his first published work.
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