by B. A. Scott
“Captain, Fated!” one of the soldiers yelled, alerting Doniel to a swarm of Fated that were diving straight toward the battlements. The spear-bows fired upon the demons, but proved too few to pierce them all.
Mayhem consumed the bridge wall as thirty of the Fated Ones landed, and engaged the solders. Doniel fought two, but when his sword ran one through the gullet, the other pounced on him, knocking him to the ground. The creature forced him to his back, and pressed both of his hands to the stone. It brought its head close to Doniel’s, then took a deep sniff of his sweat.
“Seconds to live,” it said. “Know with your final thoughts that I will devour your flesh.” Doniel’s brow lowered, and his eyes filled with hatred. “And by the rising of the sun,” the creature continued, “we shall have in our bellies the hearts of your wives, your children—your daughters... and sons.”
“NNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Doniel bellowed, his entire body coursing with the most intense revulsion for the creature on top of him. As he screamed, the Amulet beneath his armor burned like a hot coal, and a bright fire of hellish red erupted from Doniel in every direction, blasting into the air and spreading across the bridge wall, turning every living thing it touched to ash.
Table of Contents
Chapter 27: The Fate of the City
The shock of seeing the demon above him incinerated was enough for Doniel to release his hatred. For a moment, he remained on his back, wondering what had happened.
“What—what in blazes?” he asked, reaching below his armor, and pulling out the Amulet of Oblivion. He stood and surveyed the battlements. Weapons and armor littered the stone, which bore upon it a thin layer of fresh, black ash. Doniel was awestruck, frantic, not knowing exactly how any of it had happened, but being fully confident that the Amulet was the cause.
From a window within the castle, Lord Daro had witnessed the Oblivion Flame consume the bridge wall.
“Oblivion?” he said, both astounded and impressed. “No man alive today has such power.”
* * * * *
Dareic and Treäbu pushed through the outer wall, and entered the city. Everywhere they turned, a never-ending swarm of Daro’s forces engaged them. Dareic slashed through the upper half of a Primen’s skull, causing chunks of its brains to slide from their holdings amidst the spewing and splattering of the falling creature’s blood. Without hesitation, he sliced the heads off two more attackers, then saw an enormous Blessed charging him through the ranks. He reached toward the ground beneath the approaching creature’s feet, and with a flash of his eyes, thick vines and weeds burst from the earth, and twisted and tangled around the Blessed’s legs.
It crashed to the ground at Dareic’s feet, moving any way it could to free itself from the weeds that continued to bind its body. But it did not struggle for long, as Dareic thrust his blade into the creature’s back, then began hacking his way toward the second wall once more.
* * * * *
Daro arrived at the lustrous white doors that marked the entrance to the bridge wall. His demons stood behind him, snarling with anticipation of their master’s impending victory.
“Do not pass these doors until the bridge wall beyond them is clear,” Daro told them. “I take the tower alone.” Unquestioningly, they obeyed, and receded away from the doors. Then, Daro filled himself with magic, and willed the doors to open.
Upon the bridge wall, Doniel saw them budge.
“This is it,” he said to himself. “What do I do?” His eyes found the spear-bow nearest him, still aimed toward the doors. He climbed to the firing chair, shoving aside all traces of the men that had operated it before their incineration. As the doors slowly opened, Doniel aimed the giant bow directly at the height of the tall man’s heart.
“Come on,” he urged whoever stood beyond the doors. “Come on.”
The doors opened wide, revealing a hint of a man, veiled by the darkness of the archway. Doniel pulled hard on the trigger, and the spear exploded from its bow. In an instant, it hissed through the air, and struck the dark man in the chest. Doniel heard a clank of metal, and a faint grunt, but nothing more. He stepped up from the spear-bow, and leapt down to the stone, then walked cautiously, sword in hand, toward the doors. As he did, Lord Daro emerged from the darkness. To Doniel’s surprise, there was no spear in him. Yet a wide hole in his chest armor gave evidence of having been pierced only moments before.
“No,” Doniel said, dropping his sword, certain he had killed the man.
“Throw yourself over the wall,” Daro told him. “Spare me the sweat of killing you myself.”
Doniel scrambled for his sword. “Choose your next steps wisely,” he warned. “My name is Doniel Caladen! This is the city of my ancestors, and you have brought death to its walls. But Caleton will not bend to your evil any longer. And you will not survive my blade.”
“Your name is great,” Daro spoke beneath his dark mask. “But it will not save you—” Daro’s words trailed off as he noticed the Amulet of Oblivion hanging around Doniel’s neck. “It can’t be,” he uttered. “Where did you get that?!”
Doniel realized Daro was talking about the Amulet. “Don’t you think for one moment that I won’t use it against you!” he said boldly. “Turn back, Alakai. Leave this city, now and forever. Or take another step, and I’ll burn you to ash!”
“Will you?” Daro asked. He thrust his arm toward Doniel, summoning his body with magic. Doniel raced through the air, then came to a painful, jerking stop as Daro caught his neck in his large, gloved hand.
“The world must learn, Caladen,” Daro leaned in close to Doniel’s ear, “This is no stopping what’s to come.”
He buried Redentor into Doniel’s stomach, bathing its dark metal with Caladen blood. Doniel grunted awkwardly as blood coursed from his mouth. Daro grabbed the Amulet, then angled his blade downward. Doniel’s body slid down the length of the dark sword, and as it did, Daro took the Amulet for his own. The Human fell to the stone with a thud as Daro held the Amulet before his own eyes, captivated by its terrible beauty.
Doniel exhaled one last time, and lay cold and dead upon the bridge wall. Daro spent only a moment regarding the man, for his eyes moved from Doniel’s corpse to the battlements, all the way to the far end, until finally taking in the grandness of the tower before him.
Then, only one word escaped his lips: “Evindar.”
* * * * *
All around him, Dareic saw nothing but chaos. A frenzied madness of black and green stretched between the second and outer gates. A female Skael’adar next to him caught a spear in her side, just as Dareic grabbed his own belt knife, and plunged it all the way to its handle between the eyes of a Blessed that came within his reach.
Treäbu’s blades moved so quickly, they appeared as flashes of metal that commanded a spraying of blood from every demon they touched. He spun, and whipped his tail across the face of a Primen, while slicing through the stomach of three others with a single swipe of his blade.
Suddenly, something seized his left wrist as the blade in his right hand met the steel of a new adversary. Treäbu’s eyes focused on the dark creature before him, and widened with surprise.
“You,” the Skaelar said with a flaring of rage in his eyes. “You were in Warruntyne. You wiped out the Tyken!” He struggled to free himself from Hadaan’s grasp, but could not.
“And every creature you’ve slain tonight was my kin,” said Hadaan.
“Then join them in HELL!” Dareic roared as he brought his blade toward Hadaan’s neck from behind. But the dark man pushed Treäbu away, and ducked under the attack. Together, Dareic and Treäbu brought their full might against Hadaan, who fought with more skill than any of the demons they had encountered thus far.
After a slew of engagements, Dareic and Treäbu stepped back from Hadaan, catching their breath.
“He’s trouble, this one,” said Treäbu. “He’s different than the others.”
“What are you?” Dareic asked the dark man.
“I am
Hadaan Herus Alakai,” said Hadaan. “Eldest bloodson of Lord Daro.”
“Bloodson?” Dareic asked.
“Our blades alone may not be enough to kill this one,” Treäbu said, so only Dareic could hear, hinting at their next strategy. Dareic understood, then filled himself with magic. Hadaan’s head cocked, surprised at the newly revealed ability in the Human before him.
“Do I have a Sage before me?” Hadaan asked. “No, it would be impossible.”
The earth trembled as Dareic summoned weeds and vines up from the ground with Verdure. He willed them to wrap themselves around the dark man, but to his surprise, they seemed unable to touch him. Whenever they tried, they withered and died as the red crystal jewel within Hadaan’s silver amulet glowed brightly.
“Die!” Dareic yelled, sweeping his arm upward. A sharp branch erupted from the ground toward Hadaan’s heart, but decayed into nothingness just inches from his chest.
“His amulet,” Treäbu told Dareic, noticing the glowing of the jewel whenever magic was used on the dark man.
“Quite a trinket you’ve got there,” Dareic said to Hadaan. “I wonder if you’d be so brave without it.”
“Let’s take it off his hands for him,” said Treäbu.
“Off his neck, you mean,” Dareic said.
“Faithless,” Hadaan spat at them disgustedly. “Look around you. The city is taken. Your battle is lost.”
“Not yet,” said Dareic. Then, he and Treäbu charged Hadaan, determined to strike him down. But Daro’s eldest bloodson met their attack with his own, and stroke for stroke, annihilated their hopes of advancing on the second wall.
* * * * *
“The docks are crawling with Primen,” said Kade, noticing many of the dark figures amassed amongst the port of Palthea’s docked vessels as the group peered over a large, jagged rock.
“Should we try something else?” Kaven asked. “We could go south on foot.”
“Boats don’t leave tracks,” said Kade, “and the river forks not far from the docks. We need to get to the west branch. We could go on foot, but trust me, it would take us much, much longer.”
“What do you think, Gabrel?” Kaven asked.
“I agree with Kade,” said Gabrel. “Let’s stick to the plan.”
“The plan’s risky,” Kaven told him. “And I don’t want to take any chances with the Princess’s life. Let’s take the safer route, even if it’s the longer one.”
“How do you know going on foot is safer?” Kade asked. “How do you know there isn’t a patrol of Daro’s troops to the south?” Kade asked. “If Palthea’s swarming with demons, taking the river may be the safer way.”
“We should make for smaller boats,” Domini told the group. "They’re more likely to spot us if we take the time to ready a larger vessel.” Gabrel and Kaven looked to the port, weighing their chances.
“Quickly now,” said Asos. “We’re almost there.”
* * * * *
From the windows of the empty fountain chamber, Athiux and King Mercer looked down on the battle below. The Skaelar were being held at the city’s second gate, and though Athiux commanded Fury to strike Daro’s forces from the heavens, his aid could not sway the battle.
Heavy footsteps from beyond the chamber’s doors brought their attention away from the fighting. They moved to the center of the room, the Sage standing in front of the King, ready to greet whomever would enter.
“It’s him,” Mercer whispered.
“Here,” said the Sage, handing the King his last Fire Pearl, “take this.”
Just as Mercer placed the furentus within his belt pouch, the doors to the chamber blasted open. Daro emerged, and with a forceful swipe of his hand, sent an impellment spell toward the Sage. Everything happened in too fast an instant for Athiux to counter. The spell not only carried Athiux’s body through the air, but cracked the chamber wall behind him as well. The Sage smashed against the damaged stone with such force that he crashed through it, into the open air.
Athiux fell, surrounded by plummeting fragments of wall from the chamber above. The world spun around him, and the collision brought such an extreme disorientation that the Sage, for a moment, had no idea what was happening. Fated flew by in dark flashes, cool wind whipped in his face, his whole body ached, his head pounded, and the ribs on the right side of his torso were unbearably bruised.
Then, a pair of great taloned feet grasped Athiux by the shoulders. The Sage looked up, and saw the head of an Aerolus above him.
“Athalusian!” he called out as his vision and thoughts stabled once more. “Thank you, my friend!” The great Aerolus beat his mighty wings, and dodged in and out of Fated, heading for the bridge wall that led to the tower.
A spear flew past Athiux’s head, and when he turned to look behind him, he saw a swarm of Fated gaining on them.
“Behind us!” he yelled, and with a flash of his eyes, lightning struck the Fated from above. Five fell, but only a moment afterward, more joined the pursuit.
The bridge wall approached, and the Sage readied for his drop, noticing that he would encounter a slew of Daro’s demons upon landing.
“The fate of the city lies with you, Amirraden!” Athalusian said. Then, as they passed over the wall, the Aerolus released him, dropping Athiux into a mass of Primen and Blessed. The Sage rose to his feet, and without giving the demons a moment to prepare, he thrust his palm toward the ground. An immense explosion of Gale blasted every creature around him into the air.
Athiux looked to the skies, where he saw the swarm of Fated Ones latch onto Athalusian, and plunge their spears into his body. He yelled as the Aerolus let out a pain-filled death cry. His wings stopped beating, and he plummeted to the ground below.
High in the chamber, Daro walked slowly toward the King. His sword was sheathed, and there seemed to be no haste in his step.
“Have you prayed to your goddesses, Titus?” he asked the King as he approached. “Have you asked them for deliverance? Forgiveness? For them to remit all your numerous sins and protect this city? They have heard you, King, but have inexorably forsaken you.”
Mercer clenched his teeth, and reached for the Fire Pearl within his belt pouch. Yet before he could touch it, Daro held out an arm, and bound the King where he stood. With a spreading of the Dark Lord’s fingers, Mercer’s arms spread wide, and his sword fell from his hand.
Daro ripped the pouch holding the Fire Pearl from the King’s side. When he discovered its contents, his eyes narrowed.
“Fire Pearls,” he said, “cannot touch me.” Daro guided the King to his knees. He forced open Mercer’s jaw with one hand, then shoved the Fire Pearl into his mouth with the other. Daro then put his hands to either side of the King’s head, his black gauntlets pressing against Mercer’s skull like they would crush it to pieces.
“So passes the King,” Daro told him, then poured Flame through his fingertips, into the King’s body. Mercer felt an instant rush of heat, and broke into a dreadful sweat as if every pore of his skin had suddenly decided to weep. The heat intensified, and he began to pant, bordering on hyperventilating, as he resisted the urge to bite down on the Fire Pearl. His heart raced, his skin was as hot as molten metal, his insides burned, and when Daro poured more Flame into his body, his blood began to boil.
Titus Mercer cringed against the pain. He screamed as blood trickled from his nose, ears and mouth. Lord Daro, subjecting Mercer to a torturous death, sent a mighty surge of magic into the King, igniting his skin in flames.
At last, Mercer could endure the pain no longer, and bit down hard on the Fire Pearl. His body incinerated in the explosion, and the ceiling and remaining walls of the chamber blasted away, equal victims to the furentus’s deadly magic.
But Daro stood, having not moved an inch, completely unaffected by the blast.
* * * * *
“What in blazes is going on up there?!” Dareic yelled at the sight of the explosion. Fiery stone rained down on the city below, and for a moment, every ey
e was on the tower.
“That can’t be good,” Treäbu said.
What had once been the Fountain of Evindar’s chamber was nothing more than the destroyed apex of the Fountain Spire—a barren, stone platform in the open air. And above, a wide halo of dark, winged creatures that spread across the skies like a choppy sea of death.
Vega roared as he flew past the tower, dodging spears left and right. Two Fated collided with him, and gnashed at his flesh. Vega sliced the arm of one with his Skull Dagger furentus, instantly slaying the demon, then reached to the other Fated’s back, wrapped his large hands around each of its wings’ base, and ripped them from its body, like deeply rooted weeds from stubborn soil.
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Daro observing the struggle from atop the tower, but he had little time to think on the matter, for another Fated smashed into him, and bit hard into his arm. Vega rolled through the air, trying to shake the demon from him, but two more grabbed hold of each of his wings, and the Aerolus lost his ability to fly.
Suddenly, Vega’s body struck stone. It rolled awkwardly, crushing two of the Fated beneath it, until finally coming to a halt. The third Fated scampered away from him quickly.
What stopped my descent? Vega wondered. What ground did I fall upon? He got to one knee, then rose to his feet. When he did, Lord Daro stood before him, his sword drawn, and ready to strike. Vega crouched, spreading his wings wide, and held his spear and Skull Dagger furentus, awaiting Daro’s attack.
“He ripped the wings from Aesar’s back,” the Fated behind Daro spoke in a raspy voice.
“I saw,” the Dark Lord replied, stepping toward Vega. “He shall suffer the same fate.”
“One cut from this knife, Daro, and all your ambitions come to an end,” Vega threatened. Then, to the Aerolus’s surprise, Daro lowered his guard.