Alex chuckled. ‘Can’t go to war all dirty now can we?’
‘No, we can’t,’ said Vanapha with a smile.
‘Well, I’ll leave you then to it, goodnight Vanapha,’ said Alex.
‘Sleep tight Alex.’
Alex returned to his room, disappointed with the situation, chastising himself. Then again, given how likely they were to survive tomorrow, he didn't regret trying, not at all.
Outside the house Cid lined himself a square in the dust, having hanged his lantern on the lowest branch of the dead tree. He was already bare-chested and bare-footed so he immersed himself in an imaginary war, the lines on the ground becoming much larger than they really were and enemies of renown emerging from the night.
His muscles tensed and relaxed, stretched, tightened, bounded and then released as he moved, rapidly spinning, twirling and leaping, his spear often moving in the opposite direction, switching so fast in his hands and playing so swift through his fingers that it became an animal, barely kept in check by his efforts. Over his shoulder, behind his back, often from the hip; using his body to feed the momentum, and the momentum to perpetually cut, strike, lunge and stab. It was as much a dance as it was fighting.
Round 10
-Cid was a master with the spear. He was well known for it. The staff was not much of a different weapon, yet Stelinger showed great proficiency in defeating Cid, despite being actually far more practiced in swordplay. Stelinger was his equal, the man who boasted talent in exposing Cid’s deficits and was unrestraint in exploiting them. This is how Stelinger won, by doing things others were reluctant to.
But then Stelinger thought he’d already won, that it was over, that Cid could no longer win. In the last few rounds Cid started gaining, his determination adapting to the patterns Stelinger had shown till now. In a fair fight, with a good deal of stamina left, Cid was always going to take the last rounds, Stelinger’s antics becoming familiar to the strategist.
Stelinger felt himself driven back and then slotted for an opening, striking Cid on the side of his head. Almost comically Cid fell flat on his back, losing consciousness. A cry of outrage among the men woke him a second later, sitting up.
Dismayed he witnessed the Commander calling the round he should have won in Stelinger’s favour, the man not even chastised for finishing Cid with an illegal manoeuvre. The round had been crucial for it marked the count where Stelinger could no longer lose the competition no matter what. Voices called for a change of judgment.
Bennam remained passive. This brought an even greater outcry from the spectators and it brought Cid angrily to his feet. Stelinger spat to the side, eager to raise his eyes to Cid’s. He tried to hide it, but Cid saw the doubt in Stelinger’s face. The commander might’ve let it go, but he had lost favour with the men, knowing Cid had the better of him. They no longer tolerated Stelinger’s tactics, Cid left wondering if the Commander had overseen the foul with more purpose than just for the sake of continuity.
It changed then, knowing that despite their winning wagers were heavily laden on Stelinger, they would in their hearts support Cid now. Stelinger would have you believed that it did not bother him, but no one escaped the displeasures of a crowd, even one as small as this. The sudden loyalty made Cid tightened his grip. He was going in fast. He would win the next round and then the last as well. By the end of it all the men would not count the rounds; they would simply see Stelinger fall-
‘What are you doing?’
Cid was wrenched from his world, enemies fading, his fatigue catching up with him. He turned to Elmira, she standing on the veranda, her figure barely lit by the lantern’s glow.
Still overextended in a move Cid found himself embarrassed, smiling as the sweat dripped off him. He straightened himself, looking at Elmira’s questioning face.
‘Guess I’d have to call it playing,’ said Cid.
Elmira smiled, ‘we’ll don’t let me interrupt you, I want to watch,’ she said, sitting down on the low wall of the Veranda.
‘Why aren’t you sleeping?’ asked Cid.
‘You kept waking me, is something wrong?’ asked Elmira.
‘No, I don’t think so. Just restless,’ said Cid, retracing his flattened lines in the dirt.
Somewhat more aware now that Elmira was watching Cid put himself through the paces again, but did in no way hold back. As he moved and circulated he caught glimpses of her face, her mouth set in a quiet smile.
He finished with a show of throwing the spear into the air and catching it with one hand as it came spinning down. Elmira mimicked silent applause.
Cid though was rather flustered; he simply could not get away from the thoughts emanating from the spear.
‘You feel it now don’t you?’ came a voice from behind.
Somewhat shocked Cid turned to see Vanapha, coming from the back of Oldeloft with a lantern of her own, a satchel hanging from her shoulder.
‘What is this?’ asked Cid, knowing she was speaking about the spear.
Elmira was left frowning.
‘I can see it as much as you can feel it. Lidayel, he released your spear Cid, the moment he died he used the last of his power on the weapon that had just killed him. Mindevhier is now a weapon of Ruin.’
Cid looked back at the spear, feeling intensely unfamiliar with it, despite the fact that his skills were as sharp as ever.
‘I did not want a cursed weapon,’ said Cid.
‘It’s only a curse if you make it one,’ said Vanapha, ‘a man like Stelinger will come to worship his blade and indulge in the sword’s bloodlust. You can choose, when you take up this weapon what kind of man you’ll be and whether the weapon will control the man, or the man the weapon.’
‘What is she talking about Cid?’ asked Elmira, having stood up and ambling to his side.
‘Of things I want no part of. Soldiering is a simple craft, I keep my head down and fight. Magic should have no place on the battlefield,’ said Cid bitterly.
‘Now you’re just lying to yourself,’ said Elmira.
Cid looked questioningly at her.
‘She’s right, magic is a given, and you are no lowly soldier Cid, everything about you is groomed to be burdened with the weight of other men. You stand so that others may have a voice, so that those who share your determination can live out their best with you leading them, so that they may survive. The magic you hate so much? You are its enemy, now more than ever, and ironically by the end of it you will have shown the Kingdom that mystics has its place in the world. That is your plight. Your weapon holds the ideals of those who fought for the same things you did,’ said Vanapha, ‘even the moons acknowledges you Cid, they will witness your fight.’
Without meaning disrespect Cid laughed mirthlessly at the woman, Elmira jabbing him on the shoulder.
Vanapha held a content smile.
‘Look, let me show you…’
Vanapha walked over to where they stood and they looked up in the sky, the Valkyrie tracing her finger through the air.
‘The diamond box remains constant as Angaria orbits around the sun. Tell me what do you see, can you remember the echelons?’ said Vanapha to Cid.
Cid took a while, studying the moons. He had been ignorant of it till now, but there were four moons in the sky, Loikana being a big dark purple circle, hardly visible if one wasn’t searching for it against the black sky.
‘Mallova and Rodreon are full now, still in opposite echelons, the cloisters. Loikana appears in the crown echelon and Shaki-Halima is moving up into the crest. It’s right in between Mallova and Rodreon.’
‘Yes, Shaki-Halima has moved to a crucial position. In their current formation the moons represent thus; Mallova and Rodreon still stand as the duality of life, Loikana appears as the beast of old, emerging to slaughter, and Mallova is the representative, the will of the people to banish the beast.’
‘And I assume our “great black beast” is the Fallen right?’
> ‘Yes,’ Vanapha nodded. ‘And soon enough Shaki-Halima will align with Mallova, the light and the dark against each other. It is the great sign of the Kingslayer. What we do here tomorrow will have ramifications far beyond our already important stakes I'm certain. We have entered an era of critical consequence.’
‘I’m sorry Vanapha, I just can’t see how you can think that the heavens cater themselves for us, that they could possibly twine their paths to suit our actions,’ said Cid.
‘You are narrow-minded on the matter Cid. Do you think Ruin weapons alone take imprints of souls, that our will and emotions are not sent forth by our spirits and made part of the annals of the heavens? There is no magic Cid, because it has already touched everything and all that is spiritual is born from it. Our victories and defeats, the cry of a dying soul, or the jubilation of a soul that found its love, the prayer for another - they ebb into eternity, caught on those strands of Godliness that we do not understand and then woven even more mysteriously into our story, the heavens mirroring our destinies.’
Cid was thoughtful. ‘Why did he do it? Lidayel, I mean.’
‘I would think it was his way of saying: “I give you this weapon… so that you may save Yarea.”
Cid was a little surprised.
‘You think he really meant me to go after Yarea?’ asked Cid.
‘It was all he had; even though not his wife like he thought, his love for her was real. If he could have used his last power to save her you know what he would do… rather the only thing he could do was give the one man who would be inclined to take up the charge a great weapon,’ said Vanapha.
Cid kept his eyes on Mindevhier, Lidayel’s face flashing continuously in his mind’s eye. The Summoner’s plight had been relevant to Cid and somehow now he could not let it go, not when he was fighting for the exact same thing.
‘Maybe I’ll do it. If we can win this war...’ said Cid.
‘You’re a bit predictable,’ said Vanapha in amusement.
‘Brunick seems to think so too and Stelinger already exploited me on it more times than I can count.’
‘Don’t change though, even though I’m Valkyrie I’ve met many men from the world around and I trust no man more than I do you,’ said Vanapha.
She suddenly appeared embarrassed by her statement and turned away to head back inside without a further word.
Cid looked steadily at Mindevhier. This time it was for real, there was truly hidden strength now contained in the spear.
I will not fail then, I won’t betray your trust, thought Cid.
‘That was beautiful what Vanapha said, about the heavens, right?’ said Elmira, hugging Cid, her eyes full of starlight. Cid looked down on Elmira, her arms wrapped around his waist, her head pressed against his chest and her gaze transfixed on the moons.
Cid wanted to kiss her then, but let the notion go. She was so beautiful, just looking up and marvelling, so beautiful that he did not want to interfere, simply watch her and admire, seeing the same heaven on her face that she saw in the stars. He could believe through her; Brunick’s God, Vanapha’s living cosmos. With Elmira in his arms, looking the way she did, the world made a rare kind of sense.
He kissed her lightly on the forehead and she reached up, refolding her arms around his neck. Dropping the spear he pulled her close, so that he could faintly feel her quickening heartbeat as he kissed her passionately. They soared, the mountain falling away, whatever beasts hiding in its shadow left unimportant and forgotten.
Chapter 48
Dawn of War
Morning at Oldeloft came with a set of grim determined faces. They all made a show of getting in some breakfast, but everyone’s nerves were shot , and it was as though the onset of battle would only be sated if it fed from their apprehension. They ate but very little.
A silent consensus made them decide to take to the air and get it over with. The Rangers saddled up the Volje and Cid confronted Elmira, holding her by the arms.
‘You’re staying right here, okay? It’ll be safe. You don’t leave this area for anything!’
This time Elmira wasn’t going to argue, she had no place on the battlefield, understanding she was as likely to endanger everyone else as much as herself.
‘I love you soldier, be careful down there,’ she urged.
‘I will,’ said Cid, first kissing her on the head and she lifted her lips to meet his. They kissed but briefly and he held her tight for a few seconds. He then disengaged decisively, turning to help Olexion saddle the Volj.
The others as well were preoccupied with preparing for take-off when Elmira approached Vanapha.
‘Valkyrie?’
Vanapha showed her that she was listening.
‘I’ve seen you shoot a few times and I don’t think skills of archery get much better than yours. Watch out for Cid will you?’ said Elmira.
Vanapha cast a faint smile. ‘I will.’
‘Thank you.’
Behind them Brunick was finally kicking; he had kept a brave face until it became time to mount. He insisted on remaining on the ground and refused even when his partnered Ranger offered to take it easy.
‘You’ll just have to miss the fight then,’ said Alex mockingly.
It was enough to set Brunick off and make him bear it, mumbling as he mounted.
They each paired and mounted with a Ranger, except for one man who remained solitary on his Volj. Olexion sounded his horn and the Volje took to the sky, bounding from the shoulder to catch a draft, climbing quickly to leave Elmira far behind.
Cid, partnered behind Olexion, could not imagine a better experience to have just before going into battle. The tug of flight away from this land and into the air a temporary realization of escaping Alparack, a taste of triumph before fighting the most wretched fight of their lives. He noted how the Rangers now looked complete, going into battle with their flying beasts, billowing red cloaks and their dark leather armour. Cid looked to the land below, unable to rest his eyes on anything in particular.
There was this thing about war where you started to feel wary of your own bodily restraints, where you wished you could see the end of it, to perceive yourself in relation to the entirety that was your allies, your enemies, and the fated battleground. This was it, flying gave that answer and it spurred on Cid’s feeling for the battle, the sights forming plans in his already busy mind. The whole of the Basin laid open exposed to him and he could even peek into the narrows, yet did not see Lanston at the time.
Cid smiled as the wind whipped and breathed into his vest, he looked to Brunick and his partnered Ranger to the right, and was surprised to find the big man looking rather comfortable.
The bliss of flying was to be ruined. They gained incredible height; so much so that Elmira back at Oldeloft could only track the small dots in the sky. Olexion led them all to Jacanta point.
Cid had seen the Fallen army before, yet then it had only been a hazy mental representation. The real thing made a lump in his throat that he could not swallow down.
In a single pass they saw it: They were mobilizing, and it was a gargantuan march of black armours, their movement toward the Basin a grotesque sight.
‘By the King’s crown! How many do you think are there?’ asked Olexion.
‘More than I first thought, ten-thousand and counting, we are more than doubly outnumbered.’
They did another sweep, scouting to the west of the Fallen march.
‘Reavers, Priest, siege engines… we are going to have our hands full,’ said Olexion.
Cid grunted. ‘We better turn back, looking at them isn’t going to make this any easier.’
‘To the Lanston camp?’ asked Olexion.
‘Yes, the sooner we can mobilize Lanston the better,’ said Cid.
Olexion signalled for the other Rangers to follow. The Volje banked in a single wedge formation and turned for the narrows. Now, having seen the Fallen host, the experience of flying was suddenly lost on Cid and company
.
On their way south he could not help but notice the one Ranger who flew alone, Lidayel supposed to sit behind him. Cid wondered on how much the Summoner would have meant in this fight if he was still alive. Yet even if Lidayel was to be confused and powerless, Cid sincerely wished he could go back and save a man from himself who deserved much better than what was given.
Stelinger’s scouts had told him the story: They had kept their distance, looking on transfixed the day before as they felt and saw the Summoner.
Well, everyone felt the Summoner…
They told Stelinger how Cid and his company were still alive, and how he killed the Summoner who suddenly turned against them. Stelinger should have been elated at the news of the Summoner’s passing, but hearing about the presence of the Rangers placed a pit in his stomach. There were too many loose ends and Piatil’s concerned ramblings was tormenting.
Right now he was riding out with his men. He had given the army the order to march and then quietly detached from them like he planned. Parting ways, he knew it was only a matter of time before they would walk into the Fallen onslaught.
Victory was close.
It was strange casting off the power of Commander, for he had come to revel in the position, especially after craving it for so many years. Yet he knew the reward that awaited him was far better than any mantle the Kingdom could offer.
They slipped away into the pass, the way to the city-state of Durandal, diverging wholly with Lanston’s course. One of Stelinger’s men then pointed at the sky, ‘the Rangers!’
Stelinger looked up, seeing two Volje taking flight, following their already aerial companions from somewhere on mount Hashur. They were too far away to see any detail, but the roar of the Volje were made to be heard by all. At least they would not spot Stelinger, not with Reighler at his side. Even the Valkyrie couldn’t get past that one.
During the battle he would keep to his patience, satisfied with staying aside and keeping his blade clean, more than pleased to be able to trudge onto flesh and bone and steel afterwards, and see the remains of Rogana dead among all that had been Lanston.
***
Drissil stopped the march entirely and the Lanston force was in complete disarray. For now though he didn’t allow anyone to question his authority, as he entrenched himself at the pavilion, quickly silencing down anyone who dared to back up Stelinger. He wasn’t even allowing as much as a tent peg to be removed.
Remnant Pages Spearhead Page 37