But no one should be coming. He hadn’t heard of any mobilization of the Asmani nor that of the southern kingdoms in Southern Arcadia. Perhaps the veri spoke of his own people coming. Perhaps not.
“Bluffing won’t net you any gain in this battle,” Jace said.
“I learned from a young age that my words should have weight to them,” replied Ohrl’han. “I have not abandoned my teachings yet.”
It was then that Jace heard it, the sound of fiery explosions booming not ahead to where Arcadia’s forces lay, but rather behind him where such rattle should not be emanating from—not with Arcadia in disarray.
Jace looked over his shoulder at what was happening, but all he could see was a string of explosions rocking his rear lines and coming closer. Half his army turned around to face it, while the other half charged forward still.
Jace returned his gaze to Ohrl’han expecting a smug expression but the veri, but he found that Ohrl’han had vanished from the scene. For the first time in a long time, Jace wrinkled his forehead.
“Liberty, sir!” shouted General Doley’s voice, piercing the ever present cacophony of battle. Soon after, the general’s form appeared atop horseback, his armor stained red with blood as was his blade.
“What is happening, General?” Jace asked, his mind already formulating a new plan of action. “Who is flanking us? An Arcadian strike team?”
“We must flee,” responded the general as he barked orders in between addressing Liberty. “I’ve redirected some of our forces to fortify our flanks, but the situation is dire.”
“Flee?” Jace uttered as he sheathed his blade and mounted a horse nearby, its original rider nowhere to be found. He gestured for General Von Doley to follow. “The rest of our forces can handle that of Arcadia’s. We must seek out this flanking strike and quell it before we lose our supplies.”
“But Liberty,” started the general as the two rode in the opposite direction of the flow of battle, “reports indicate that our supply and medical stations have all been destroyed.”
“What?” replied Jace with narrowed eyes. “How is that possible?”
The general did not need to answer, for Jace saw with his own eyes how Arcadia had accomplished such a thing. Far in the distance, where the cascade of explosions continued to erupt, he saw a hammer that he recognized, among other weapons.
The Volcano was here.
Jace’s forces who met the Volcano in battle perished with hardly a chance to get near him or the three others who accompanied him. A traitor he saw amongst them, Recruit Officer Samantha Kell. She had conspired against him, after all.
“General, go back and lead the front,” Jace said as he turned to the general, who held a bewildered expression. “I will handle the Vol—“
“Fall back!” cried a Knight of the Faith near them who was of lower rank, a captain or lieutenant by the looks of it.
“I did not signal a retreat,” commanded Jace to him and the others around them who held similar expressions of doubt, but no one would hear him. All they paid attention to was the destructive force of the Volcano.
“Liberty…” muttered General Doley, and Jace knew what the general was going to say.
Jace tugged on the reins of his horse, turning it so that he could once again have a view of his front lines. For the first time since the battle began, they were being pushed back. Half their forces had been forced to divert to clash with the Volcano. The reprieve had been enough to allow Arcadia to push back, and now the Order of the Faith was caught in a sandwich.
“We have to pull back,” reiterated General Doley.
Jace closed his eyes to calm his mind and prepare a new tactic. He searched and searched, but there was nothing his forces could do to turn the tide of battle. He could take on both Arcadia and the Volcano himself, but that would leave Jace with an empty world with none to liberate.
“Call the order,” Jace said following a heavy sigh. “We retreat back to Lenas.”
General Doley nodded, immediately sounding the retreat. Several horns blew, followed by the retreat of anyone who could still run. Many were unfortunate, either being trampled by Arcadia’s forces or blasted by the Volcano and his team. Jace could hardly see the ground beneath the countless bodies that littered the fields. It wasn’t long before attacks were directed at him, though they were all in vain at the edge of his blade.
As they fled, Jace’s mind filled with denial. Arcadia should have been crushed soon after the ghalier attack. Instead, the same had been done to his own army by a flame that Jace had yearned to put out since finding out about the Volcano’s return.
But now, with even the full might of Onturi thwarted, what path did God illuminate for Jace and the Order of the Faith?
_ _ _
Graeme could not believe it. He watched from afar as Liberty’s forces retreated in panic, buckling from fighting at two fronts. The source of the fiery bursts from the other side could be none other than Raxxil, and Graeme’s heart lifted with relief.
He scrambled out of his bed, ignoring the unraveling of the bandages that covered his head. Also ignoring the subsequent wave of weakness, he trudged across the tent toward Wu, who was convening with Guy and Laralen at the newly erected command center—a pitched tent that took the space where the central space of Fort Bellford had been.
“Grand Arcanist, sir, you must rest,” pleaded a healer, but he waved her away.
“Please, tend to those in need,” he urged. “I have a firm grasp of life, don’t worry.”
Against her wishes she did as he bid. He took small step after step on his way to the others. Being both drained from elemental exertion and injury did not help his cause, but he made it without losing consciousness to his friends.
“Graeme, are you recovered enough to be up?” Wu asked, but like the healer, Graeme dismissed the question with the wave of his hand and a firm nod.
“Arcadia has use for me yet,” he replied. “If I can breathe, I can lend my aid.”
Riders on horseback rushed toward them, turning out to be none other than Raxxil and his cohort. Like Graeme, they appeared weary and weak, though they were not wounded beyond bruises and scuffs. Their armor and clothes were dented and torn in many places.
Raxxil dismounted, though it was far from graceful. He did not stride up to them proud and full of fire like he had before, and on closer inspection, he appeared pale and disoriented.
“Thank you for your aid, Raxxil,” said Graeme, but the hammer-wielder was not moved.
“There is still a war to win,” he said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He must have been fighting for consciousness as much as Graeme. “Liberty himself flees to the east. Will Arcadia mobilize after him?”
“We can afford no such thing,” Graeme replied. “Arcadia has suffered heavy losses, and we must first look to tend to the injured and deceased before we decide what to do about the Order of the Faith.”
Perhaps that was exactly what Raxxil wanted to hear, for he whipped around and mounted his horse once more. He pulled the reins to face the horse east.
“A warning to you,” started Laralen before Raxxil and the others rode away. “None of us were able to find Liberty’s weakness, let alone land a single blow against him. No matter the attack, elemental or otherwise, his blade always parries, and his counterattacks are faster than a blink. How do you expect to fare any better?”
Raxxil turned to look upon Laralen. “A blade cannot stop a volcano.”
_ _ _
Guy trudged through the sea of bodies in search of those wounded who still clung to life, as did many others around him. It had hit him after the end of the battle, the feeling of woe and despair that one could not afford to yield to during the fight.
And for the hundredth time in his life, it sunk his heart to the most bottom of depths. Cad was gone. Tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, of lives were lost. He felt weak, and not the kind of weakness that came from fatigue. He could shoulder that kind of weak
ness.
This was the other kind, and war after war made it harder for his heart to stay red.
Guy kneeled down when he saw a hand reaching up from below a pile of unmoving bodies. He grasped the hand and yanked up the survivor, only to find that the soldier was not Arcadian.
Guy whipped back his hand and aimed an arrow at the still breathing enemy. “Do you still pledge to Liberty?”
The soldier, face blood-caked and grimy, fell back onto his rear and looked away. “Be done with it. I’m going to Hell anyway.”
In times past, an overwhelming anger would have compelled Guy to fire that life-ending arrow despite surrender. And in times past he had obliged. That was when he was younger. It was not the Arcadian thing to do.
Guy moved his bow away and stretched out his hand instead. “While you have no place in Arcadia, execution is not our way. You will remain a prisoner of ours until this war is over.”
His enemy took his hand, and Guy stripped him of his weapon. He then called for an Arcadian soldier to ferry their enemy away from the battlefield for the safety of both of them.
Guy continued as he was, searching once more for any survivors. He helped up dozens of wounded men and women, some of them fighting for dear life and others wounded emotionally more than anything.
Some walked away with trembling hands, others no longer had arms to tremble. The veterans were quicker to move on from the battle, having seen it already before. The younger ones and first timers were the most disconnected, reminding Guy of his foray into war.
He could only hope that in time they readjusted to a normal life.
Guy looked up to a setting sun, the bright blue sky now a somber orange. With night would come the cold, and Guy hurried to rescue as many more as he could. The effort would go well into the next day, for there were so many injured—
Guy froze, his eyes stopping at a face on the ground that stared up at him with lifeless eyes. He recognized the young Arcadian warrior, one who had not fitted in his armor. One who had trembled just before the onset of the battle at Banton Beach.
One who had dreamed of becoming a chef in his kitchens.
Guy could do nothing but look upon Kelin’s youthful, pale face. He kneeled, closing the young boy’s eyelids and removing the blade that had been buried in his chest.
He could not stop the tears that fell down his cheeks, nor could he stop one of the Eversong’s chant as it left his lips. “A young leaf, green and vibrant, falling from Mother Tree’s branch. Blown, blown, blown in the wind, far from home and far from sanctuary. What would it find if it…”
Guy stopped abruptly as he choked back tears, unable to finish the song. Why was it the young who left first and not the old? He had survived three wars, among other battles. He should have been the one to go, giving his life so that the next generation could live a better life.
And now what? Momentary reprieve until the next kingdom decided that it wanted to invade Arcadia too? All for some prophecy that was more than likely false?
He hadn’t doubted Graeme before, but a council would have to be held on this Child of Light. It was time to find out who this mystery child truly was.
_ _ _
Quinn eyed the one known as Shushana the Shadow, who had yet to make a move—let alone say a word. The others, even Gilbel, appeared frozen in fear, but Quinn found himself more curious than anything.
He felt attached to this other entity. Like the black pools at Vaikar’s Heartrend, he felt a pull that tugged him closer to her or it or whatever that thing was inside the black armor.
“Its power is not yours to wield,” said the figure in black armor as she pointed at Quinn, though it sounded distorted and had been discarded of any humanity.
“Says who?” he asked as he took a step forward.
“We have to get out of here, right now!” yelled Gilbel, and before Quinn could protest, Garjuun came from behind and launched Quinn atop the beast's back. The three other demons jumped on, and Garjuun charged away as fast as he could.
“No, take me back!” Quinn yelled. He would show them all what he was capable of. Never again would he be ostracized for being powerless. He would destroy all those who challenged him or sought to take away his friends.
But Garjuun was not in accordance, speeding away from Shushana the Shadow who went in a sprint after them. To Quinn’s and everyone else’s surprise, she was actually gaining on them.
She threw her scythe at them, and as it flew across the air it morphed to a shape similar to Quinn’s tendrils. He threw out one of his own to deflect—
Shushana’s attack ripped right through his own, splitting it in two without stopping momentum in the slightest.
“Garjuun, dodge!” Quinn yelled as he slapped one of the beast’s legs as hard as he could.
Garjuun dove to the side in reaction, Shushana’s attack narrowly missing or else it would have cleaved them all in two. Like that of Quinn’s attacks, Shushana’s weapon shot back and was reabsorbed in her armor.
She started in another sprint after them, but stopped and looked over her shoulder at something. That was their cue, and Garjuun sped off across burning fields with the four others left to think about how they all just narrowly met their deaths for what seemed like the hundredth time.
_ _ _
Shushana readied to launch another attack at the four demons and the human who had found a way to tap into Vaikar’s power.
“Cease your actions immediately, Shushana,” said an irritating voice from behind. She stopped to look behind her, almost throwing her attack instead to the dark void greeting her.
“What is the meaning of this intervention?” she asked.
“Striking them down would have ruined our plans,” replied the entity who many would call Lion. It was large, nearly three times her size. Lion, like his spawn, had skin of shade and fiery, red eyes. Around his face and atop his head was a lion-like mane of wispy hair. His face was abnormally angular but also vaguely human-like.
If she was the Shadow, then the thing before her was the shadow within shadows. Every time it opened its mouth the world became that much darker. Such was its darkness that not even she compared.
“Striking them down would have ruined your plans,” she corrected as she relaxed. She turned to regard the sea of demons who had made it across the bridge only to stop and cower in the presence of two gods. Slowly, they crept back toward Bastion’s Return as if they would be harder to detect.
“We all seek the same thing, including the Lords of Hell,” responded the darkness, peering down at Shushana.
“The Lords failed once, who is to say that they won’t fail again?” she said.
“With our powers combined, the outcome will be different,” it answered.
“I know of your great deceits, Muut,” she warned. “And I know of your essence. Do not think that I will be easily swayed. Do not think I won’t reveal you. I have no need for the Lords, nor Hell for that matter. My escape is soon to be, and I will strike him down myself.”
“Careful with your words,” warned the dark entity. “Have you forgotten of our bargain, or do you no longer wish to know where all the orbs can be found?”
“Pray that you don’t lead me astray,” Shushana said, “or I will come back here and finish you myself.”
“The one thing a mortal can never let go of is arrogance,” said the darkness. “Yours is an arrogance not born from pride, but hope. Remember Shushana, neither the five Lords nor the light and dark could accomplish what you hope to alone.”
Shushana held out both her hands, presenting herself to the darkness. “I’ve absorbed the power of an entire world. If not even a god could kill another god, then I will.”
Chapter 12
232nd Dawn of the 5010th Age of Lion
Samantha and the others continued their chase on horseback after Liberty and his forces. She had been relieved to hear that sound of retreat from the Order of the Faith in the Bellford Plains. The battle had been won, but
the war wasn’t over.
Certainly not for Raxxil. It was he who led the charge after Liberty despite the cessation of battle, though it was only the four of them who now chased the remaining army of the Order of the Faith.
And now, more than two weeks later, they were at the eastern coast near the beaches. On the horizon across the sea were the anchored warships that would serve as Liberty’s getaway.
About a hundred feet away, rushing toward small boats manned by crew off the coast, was Liberty and the rest of his forces who had managed to escape Raxxil’s wrath. By a rough count, a few thousand of the Order of the Faith’s entire army had made a successful retreat thus far. It was but a fraction of Liberty’s original might, and she could see him and his closest generals the first to step foot off the continent.
They were not going to let them get any farther.
Despite being such a small group of riders, they had not been able to reach Liberty himself until now. Raxxil’s unrestrained fury had left him lethargic, but still he had pressed on.
They said abusing fire left one cold, for the energy required to sustain such heat had to come from somewhere. Several nights he had passed out at the moment that they stopped to rest, only to get back up at dawn to continue the chase.
And, like in the battle in the Bellford Plains, she had finally come to realize the depth of Raxxil’s woe.
“He’s already halfway to his ship,” Darius said as he aimed his crossbow at the vessel that Liberty was on and fired a bolt of lightning.
Like what Ohrl’han the Supreme said, it seemed to just bounce off off the boat harmlessly. Raxxil wasted no time as he stormed down the beach on horseback all the way to the water.
“Raxxil, wait!” Samantha called out as she followed him, her feet splashing water. “What do you intend to do, swim after his ships?”
Instead of addressing Samantha, Raxxil turned to Arwynn instead. “Ready to do what we practiced?”
Silent Requiem (Tales of Ashkar Book 3) Page 16