by J. M. Topp
Pate sighed as he slapped the reigns of the oxen. ‘Elves or no, it’s fools hope.’
Elymiah listened to the man’s words. The oxcart rolled over a hole in the road, making the cart bounce up slightly. After a while, Elymiah took a deep breath and clutched her cloak to her chest.
‘Why did you stay?’ Elymiah said as she stared at the empty buildings and their shadows.
‘I own the lumbermill here. It has been in my family for over six generations. There are a few people left in the town who still need lumber,’ Pate said as he turned to Elymiah. ‘Though, rumour has it the fog will overtake the world again. The Second Age of Fog.’ Pate shook his head. ‘I never thought I would live long enough to see this terrible age.’
Pate stopped the cart before the village’s tavern. Elymiah stared up at the inn’s sign: The Drunken Firekeeper. A woman carved in the wood with head bowed and hands to her face gave the inn a somber look. Elymiah stepped off the cart and walked up to the driver’s seat, holding her side. Pate bored into her with his brown eyes. He stroked his beard as he spoke to Elymiah.
‘Cale is the owner of this small tavern. Speak with him for your needs.’
‘Thank you for taking care of my friend and me,’ Elymiah said, lowering her face. ‘I cannot pay you—’
‘I want to make you an offer,’ interrupted Pate.
‘What kind of offer?’ Elymiah raised one eyebrow critically. Pate’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight. ‘You can stay here for as long as you have the coin to pay. Cale may not be cheap, but this is the only place in town with warm beds and staunch beer. However, I doubt you do have the coin. Am I correct?’
Elymiah nodded and folded her arms close to her body.
‘In that case, work for me, earn your keep, and you are free to stay as long as you please. I will even give your friend back there a place to stay. You will have to work double, but I will be fair.’
Since Elymiah and Robyn had no other place to go, this was the only chance at a new life. She glanced at Robyn. His head was dropped down to his chin, but his chest was rising and falling steadily. Elymiah knew that was there was no other option. Pate hadn’t asked for her name or pried anymore about why she was out in the middle of nowhere, and perhaps it was best like that. Elymiah looked down the street they were on. A soft but chilling gale of wind blew over the cobblestones. Elymiah shivered and clutched her shirt to her chest. The only light on the entire street was coming from the Drunken Firekeeper—that and from Pate’s lantern. Elymiah took a deep breath and looked up at Pate.
‘Fine. I’ll do it. Whatever you like,’ said Elymiah finally.
‘In that case, climb back on. My lumbermill doesn’t have the beer, but it does have the beds and the stew.’ Pate whipped the reigns of the oxen, and the cart moved forward. Elymiah bit her lip. There was something else about Pate that was a mystery. He might have needed the help, but he seemed pretty capable—perhaps even more so than Elymiah in her current state. She jumped onto the cart and held on, watching The Drunken Firekeeper fade into the darkness of the abandoned streets.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Tout Petit Moineau
AYDA COULD FEEL the warmth of the gift within her. It was a difficult feeling to explain when she thought about it. Ayagi passed through her skin as if it were a faint tingling of a misty cloud. However, it didn’t seem confined in her body. Sometimes Ayda could hear his whispers, and she would whisper back at him. She had become comfortable with Ayagi living inside of her. She smiled to herself as she eyed King William’s red carriage and his escort. She would never understand why knights would choose to colour their armour violet, though she did have to admit, the emblem and the rhino-like shape of their helms were impressive. She clutched her small cloth cloak to her neck and looked up at Remy. The winds had begun to rise since they saw the small army advance into the city. Since then, no sound or alarm had been raised. Everything was still in the city from where Ayda was standing.
‘I don’t like the way this looks,’ said Remy, rubbing his unkept mustache. He was staring intently at the smoking city. ‘They weren’t even challenged upon entry.’
Ayda looked to her sides. The entire refugee camp was staring, watching and waiting. It was as if everyone were holding their breath at once. There was an intense feeling of unease, and Ayda could almost taste it. She wanted to talk to Ayagi, but she didn’t want Remy or anyone else to know about the spirit living inside her. The fewer people knew about Ayagi, the better.
The rumbling of a carriage made Ayda turn to the rapidly approaching horses. Ayda’s eyes widened as the driver showed no sign of stopping. Remy grabbed her by the neck and tugged her body out of the way just at the last moment.
‘Ow! What the fuck?’Ayda spat as Remy set the halfling on the ground beside him. He slapped Ayda over the head.
‘Learn your manners, little one.’ Remy turned to look at the carriage that had almost run her over. ‘You almost got crushed.’
The carriage was painted white with gold trimmings around the windows and steps. The horses themselves seemed better fed than most of the refugees.
‘Who rides in that one?’
‘The Hallowed Masters do,’ whispered Remy, almost as if he were afraid that speaking their names would summon their legendary wrath. ‘They supposedly lost one of the three in the escape from Weserith. From what I have seen, they have been more paranoid about everything. They even killed one of their own knights. I hear she had the plague though, so perhaps it was for the best.’
‘I saw her just before she was killed,’ said Ayda, staring past the carriage. ‘She looked frightened. It wasn’t her fault that she had the plague, was it?’
‘It’s a little too late to think about that, little one.’
Ayda frowned. She knew it was too late to save the knight, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want it to be. She could still dream of it, right? If Ayda was indeed to be inducted into the Aivaterran lifestyle like Bendrick had told her, perhaps she one day could be a knight just like the one they executed. Well, perhaps not exactly like her. Ayda could still see the knight trapped in the thorny, wooden cage. If only she had found the damn key sooner.
Ayda turned to the sound of more carriages being brought over the road. This time, they weren’t carriages though; they were trebuchets. Ayda wondered how on earth they had built them in such a short time. Or perhaps the Hallowed Masters had brought them in the escape from Weserith. Each had barrels full of black dirt. Some of it spilled directly in front Ayda. Remy knelt to the ground and picked up a small black clod in his hands.
‘You know what this is, little one?’
‘That’s dirt,’Ayda said, squinting at Remy’s hand.
‘Look closer.’
Ayda strained her eyes and realized that it wasn’t dirt. They looked like small, rounded clods of mortar.
‘What does it do?’
‘It burns hotter than the largest furnace, and is brighter than the sun itself. It all happens in an instant. Before you know it, you are dead,’ said Remy, with an odd air of fascination in his voice. ‘They’re Blackstones.’
‘They’re going to launch those barrels into the city?’ Ayda said, glancing at the city.
‘So it seems.’
‘But Bendrick is still in there. We have to stop them!’
Remy turned to look at the city and its ruinous walls.
‘He chose his fate when he decided to enter with the infantry. That wasn’t a smart move.’
Ayda looked on in horror as Aivaterran men placed a barrel in the bowl-like area of the trebuchet. They lit the wick on the barrel and pulled a rope on the side. The trebuchet sprang the barrel into the air, sailing at massive speeds to the city.
‘Remy! We have to stop them.’
‘This is poetic, Ayda. Just think, I was left in a cell to rot, and now Bendrick is in the line of fire. It’s almost comedic.’ Remy stared in awe at the fiery explosions going off inside the city. Ayda looked up at him and took a s
tep back. He was too absorbed by the barrels of black powder. Ayda took another step back and then darted away. She zipped in-between men and women, who simply stared at the fireworks. Oohs and aahs were thrown into the air, as if it were all for entertainment. Ayda glanced at the city. A barrel fell just inside the crumbled walls. Suddenly, stone, mortar, and wood blew up into the sky as if some giant had stomped its foot into the burning stones—only there was no giant. Ayda found herself staring like the rest of the refugees. She shook her thoughts back to herself.
Bendrick was down there.
Fuck it. I’ll just run. But just before she was about to run, a hand clutched her shoulder. She turned, thinking to see Remy, but instead a handmaiden stood before her.
‘You are a halfling,’ said the handmaiden.
‘What the hell?’ said Ayda, struggling in the grasp of the woman.
‘We know our own kind, even if you do not sport all our blood.’
The woman took off her headdress to reveal blue-coloured hair. She tucked her hair behind her ears, and Ayda’s mouth dropped as she saw the mutilated ears.
‘You are an elf?’ asked Ayda, eyes widened at the elven handmaiden.
‘I was. I am cursed, much like you.’
‘I’m not cursed!’
The elven woman smiled. ‘Aydalyyn, is it?’
‘How did you know that?’
‘I am named Zoreadryyn, but most humans prefer to call me Rebecca,’ said Rebecca with a coy smile. Another explosion rocked the plains, which made her smile turn to dark concern. ‘You are more important than you realize. You must come with me.’ Rebecca put her hand into a small brown satchel under her shirt. She pulled a blue phial from her hand and looked down at it. A faint green glow was drifting from it.
‘We need to save Bendrick,’ said Ayda, turning to the burning city. Rebecca looked up as if startled by Ayda’s voice and hurriedly put the phial back into her satchel.
‘One of the Apostles is near,’ she said, craning her neck over the crowds. ‘I have to find him.’
‘No, goddammit! I have to go save Bendrick.’
‘Even something like the thing that lives within you could not fight off a power as strong as Gruizoch. Not yet, at any rate,’ said Rebecca, seemingly looking for a way to escape the refugee line.
‘You’ve never seen it! It’s stronger than you think,’ spat Ayda.
‘You would be surprised at all that I do know, half-ling.’
Ayda broke from Rebecca’s grip and landed on the ground. ‘Thanks for your help, elf. But I will save Bendrick, even if it’s by myself.’
Before Rebecca could grab her, Ayda dashed into the crowds, who were still staring at the massive explosions in the city. She needed to find a horse to get to the city. She shook her head. I never should have let him go by himself. He needs me. He doesn’t realize it yet.
Ayda spotted a knight that was holding the reigns of a horse. I just need him to loosen his grip on the reigns, and then, perhaps, there is a chance. But her thoughts were interrupted by people pointing to something different this time. Something was coming back up the road. Ayda strained her eyes and saw someone atop a horse charging at full speed at the refugees. It was Joan, and she was carrying someone with her. The person was naked and was obviously a woman.
But something was very wrong. The knight woman had blood coming from her mouth, and her eyes were almost shut.
‘That’s Joan, of the Holy Silver Angels Platoon,’ said someone, but Ayda did not see who. Joan’s body rocked back and forth in the saddle, and when the warhorse finally reached the refugees, her body slumped over the naked woman and revealed two quarrels stuck deep into her armour. Ayda held her breath as knights surrounded the horse. They took Joan from the saddle and set her on the ground carefully. A healer rushed past Ayda and ran to Joan’s side.
‘All who call themselves men, hear me!’ The voice boomed and echoed across the plains. Ayda turned to see a bald man in an elabourate and husky robe. It was one of the Hallowed Masters.
‘Be ye Aivaterran or be ye Weserithian, today we are all men against the daemon threat. Have faith in Oredmere, for not only has He weakened the daemons with fire from heaven, but Audry, the queen’s sister, is returned to us! It is a sign! We cannot lose!’ The man smiled, and people began to cheer alongside her. Immediately, Ayda felt a sense of warmth—almost like she wanted to cheer as well.
‘Grab whatever weapon you can, whether stick or sword. I have blessed it, just now. Oredmere has promised me your victory! Go and take forth the fruit of heaven’s gaze!’ The Hallowed Master pointed to the city in flames. ‘Take back your promised land!’
The refugees roared with reinvigouration and charged the city, holding spikes and sticks, and some even held stones and wooden ladles. Ayda could hardly believe her eyes. There were daemons in that city. An entire battalion of knights had been swallowed up. What could peasants do against them? Ayda didn’t care about Aivaterra, but she did care about Bendrick. She sprinted with the crowds.
Ayda glanced back to see Rebecca running at her.
‘Aydalyyn, wait!’
But Ayda did not heed her words. She rushed in-between legs, running as fast as she could. Dust quickly filled her lungs and eyes, but that didn’t stop her. Ayda spit and rubbed her eyes, still keeping in the direction of Aivaterra. Her lungs began to burn as much as her legs were. A man tripped in front of her and fell into her path. Ayda jumped at the last second and continued her run. She glanced back to see thousands of feet trampling over the man. There was no way he would survive something like that. To her left, a woman fell and was flattened on the plains. Ayda realized that it would be her fate as well if she tripped and fell.
Panicked, she struggled to maintain the speed of the refugees around her. Yet the horror in her heart was unique to only her. The refugees around Ayda were laughing, screaming, and smiling wildly. They had gone mad. Whatever that priest had said had made the refugees feel something in their hearts, something they could not ignore. A fire burned wildly in their souls—fire only acquired from dark spells.
A big man with a mace raced passed Ayda, but before he could get too far, Ayda sprinted and jumped onto his back. The man continued to run and scream, oblivious to the added weight on his body. Ayda bounced up and down on the man’s shoulders like a rag doll wrapped around the man’s neck. The sweat from his neck dripped onto her arms. Ayda held on for dear life, knowing that if she slipped and fell, it would certainly be the end of her. His odour was almost too much to bear, but Ayda held on tight.
Before she knew it, the rabid crowd of refugees was at the ruinous walls. Weserithian and Aivaterran alike began climbing over crumbled stone, screaming and laughing. Ayda jumped off the insane man with the mace. She landed on a large stone, but the stone gave way instantaneously. Ayda felt a blast of wind over her head where she had been standing merely a moment before. She stared at the wall as a waterfall of blood fell onto her hands and face. Ayda glanced up to see part of the wall move. Only, it wasn’t the wall: it was the head of a massive spiked warhammer.
Ayda’s heart stopped in her chest, but it was Ayagi that froze within her. It was scared. Ayda stared in horror as the warhammer rose from the crumbled stone. The refugees had halted their advance almost at once at the sight of the beast wielding the warhammer. Two long, thick horns rose from the dust, and the beast snorted in fury.
‘Oh, shit in my mouth,’ said Ayda, with mouth open, staring at the daemon.
The beast whipped its head to the half-ling. Its eyes were ablaze, and blood dripped from its jaws. Ayda’s bladder emptied as the beast faced her. The Minotaur raised its warhammer, casting a large shadow over Ayda. Suddenly, Ayda’s eyes rolled to the back of her skull as she felt a massive power leave her body.
Ayda fell to her knees and began to shake incessantly. She fell on her hands and looked up to see a giant serpent before her. Ayagi’s head was as big as the Minotaur’s, and its elongated jaws were bared. Ayagi hissed loudly at th
e Minotaur. It looked different than Ayda had ever seen it. Ayagi had a triangular yellow crest on its head and two feathery, long, pointed ears jutting out from them. Two long whiskers coiled around its mouth. Its blue scales sparkled in the sunlight. Ayagi’s blue eyes shone brightly through the dust clouds. It sat coiled and hissing at the beast.
The Minotaur looked stunned, but only for a moment. The massive beast gripped its warhammer and swung it at Ayagi. The spiked metal hit Ayagi and pierced its flesh. Ayagi hissed even louder and struck at the beast’s shoulder, sinking its jaws into the putrid flesh. The serpent, though wounded, wrapped itself around the Minotaur’s body and neck. Ayda stood up slowly as Ayagi and the Minotaur raised dust all around them.
Ayda’s mind began to swim. She coughed first, then threw up on the ground. She heard Ayagi’s scream and looked up as the Minotaur sunk its jaws in-between Ayagi’s scales and began to tear flesh. Ayda looked on in horror. Ayagi was huge, but he wasn’t strong enough. Crazed refugees tried to jump into the fray and attack the titan beasts, only to get smashed and strangled amidst the writhing creatures.
Gruizoch tore Ayagi’s flesh, but Ayagi still held on. Ayagi squeezed the beast’s legs and neck as hard as it could. Then, out of nowhere, a blur of blue hair zipped past Ayda. Rebecca dashed forward in-between the fighting beasts, and as Ayagi held Gruizoch’s neck, she jumped on his back. She put a bottle into the Minotaur’s mouth. The liquid was green and coarse. The beast growled as Rebecca forced the liquid contents into his mouth. Gruizoch reach back, his clawed hands narrowly missing Rebecca’s face. Ayagi squeezed Gruizoch’s arms and torso. Little by little, Gruizoch became weak. His eyes began to flutter and lose focus. He knelt on the ground. The warhammer slipped from his grip and fell with a thud beside the beast. Ayagi hissed one last time and finally let go of the beast.
Ayda wiped the corners of her lips and rushed to Ayagi’s side. Ayagi whipped around and hissed at her, baring its fangs. Ayda froze in horror. The serpent suddenly relaxed as if it realized it was her, then looked past Ayda.