With his other hand he conjured up a ball of flame and tossed at another group of soldiers charging his way, incinerating them before they could reach a dozen feet from Raxxil.
With hundreds—maybe even thousands—more on their way to engage him, he whipped around and headed for the bazaar. As he made his way past a fruit stand he stopped, striking it with his hammer and turning it into a burning mass that flew across the air to his pursuers and brought down a host of them.
He ducked as someone returned a fiery attack of their own, the flames eating at the tarp from another stand and spreading until the entire thing was on fire.
The street was too narrow for an entire army to march down, and so it was to Raxxil’s benefit that they charged in rows of a dozen. At the same time, Raxxil viewed another group of soldiers closing in on him from the other end of the street.
He dove to the left just in time to dodge a slew of elemental attacks that annihilated the corner where he had just stood. He bolted down this new street toward the walls of Lenas. Another group came at him from this street in an attempt to rout and corner him, but he took to the rooftops of the nearby buildings.
As he made his way parallel to the group, he rained fire down on their heads. The misfortunate ones perished then and there while the rest dove behind barriers of stone to live another moment.
“RAZE IT ALL TO THE GROUND!” roared Vrand within his mind, and for the first time in a long time, Raxxil was alone to unleash his full potential.
While these streets would normally have been buzzing with activity at the dawn of light, they were now empty save for any soldier who pledged his or her life to the Faith. It was to both Raxxil’s relief and satisfaction that the Order of the Faith had raised the alarms and evacuated its defenseless citizens.
His flames would extinguish the Order of the Faith in its entirety today, of that he was certain, and he was leaving best for last. He pictured Liberty standing alone in the ruins of the Order of the Faith.
And when Raxxil brought his hammer down upon Liberty’s head, the world will be rid of a cancer plaguing it.
The walls of Lenas appeared just up ahead, and Raxxil leapt from atop the last roof and flew into the bottom of one of the towers. He flung his hammer in a circle, blasting to bits the soldiers who looked upon him with both fear and shock.
With them gone, he ascended up the stairs to the top of the tower where he struck down a few more. The clamor of soldiers rushing up from below filled Raxxil’s ears. With a grin he lifted high his hammer, then brought it down with mighty force.
The resulting explosion from his unleashed weapon blew a good chunk out of the tower, and the following chain of events started its collapse. Just moments before it crashed down on dozens of soldiers, Raxxil leapt off and rolled as he hit a rooftop. He then surveyed the area, noting that the streets and even rooftops were swarming with the Order of the Faith’s full force.
All eyes were on Raxxil, just as he had hoped.
He lifted up his hammer just in time to block an arrow aimed for his head, the point of origin being the next tower just up ahead. He formed a fireball in his hand and threw it at the top of the tower before charging its way.
Where he had ascended the one before, he elected to just smash it at the base. Soon after, it crumbled and fell sideways atop some buildings, crushing several more scores of soldiers.
But Raxxil was not going to slow down. Rather, each torrent of rage and flame fueled him ever more, and he was not going to stop until all of Lenas remembered who the Volcano was.
Once again, Raxxil envisioned the moment when he would meet Liberty face-to-face.
_ _ _
Arwynn watched as the bald man’s claw transformed at the utterance of its release. The three sharp blades elongated further, runes dancing at the edges of each blade.
“Such bright, green eyes,” he said in a dark tone.
“You’re just a sick bastard, aren’t you?” Arwynn replied as she reeled back her arm, then thrust it forward. Her blade extended, its sharp blades aiming to cut her adversary—
To Arwynn’s surprise, the man vanished in thin air, and her attack only ended up cutting the lifeless corpse at the table behind where the man had stood a moment ago.
Metal rang as the table flew into another one, the body atop it slumping to the ground. Arwynn leapt back out of the room as a reflex, holding her blade in front of her as she took a few steps back.
“I’m coming for you…” teased her odd adversary, though she could not pinpoint the source of his voice.
But Serraemas and Raxxil had trained her well, and had trained her to not always rely on her sight. She strained her ears for any sound, and it was in that moment that the rushing of steps filled her ears.
They grew louder until she was sure that he was in front of her, and she threw out her blade anticipation. Metal clanged on metal as an invisible force caught her edge.
“Oh, how perceptive,” he cooed as he retreated, and Arwynn almost fell forward from the lack of resistance. She caught herself with her free hand, listening to the series of steps that went away from her.
Just as quickly as he had attacked he was gone, leaving Arwynn to whirl around in paranoia as she crept back. She looked around, finding herself in a maze she did not know how to navigate. Empty corridors mocked her in every direction, and her invisible attacker could come at any angle.
She stopped at a door, listening for any advances. When she heard none, she fumbled the door open as quickly as she could, stepping inside with her front to the corridor where she had just been in.
A loud thud echoed throughout the room as Arwynn bumped into a wooden desk, random items falling to the floor and causing further ruckus. The distraction proved near fatal for Arwynn, for she felt the stinging pain of something cutting her flesh.
In reaction she swiped with her blade, but her blade only cut air. Another series of footsteps echoed, growing fainter with each step. She looked down, discovering a gash the length of a finger across her abdomen just below her ribs.
Blood ran down her side, staining her clothes and dripping onto the floor.
“That was just a teaser,” echoed his voice, tormenting Arwynn.
“My venom needs to reach his veins,” Cadence said. “If not, this will be a slow, losing battle.”
Arwynn clenched her teeth. Steeling herself, she ran out the room, slashing the air around her in a circle in case he was there. With every twist of her torso as she ran she felt the surging pain at her side, but she did not let it slow her down. She cupped the wound so that she stopped leaving a trail. She then flew down a corridor, extending her blade several yards in front of her and then the same behind her every few seconds like a crazed woman running from ghosts.
She came to another door, and when she peered inside, she realized that it was the same room where she had encountered her adversary. She jumped in, shutting the door behind her. She then held her breath
If he was in here, she did not hear him. She looked around for any medical supplies that could aid her, and to her relief, she found some sterilizing alcohol and gauze organized at one of the far corners of the room.
She waited a few more moments in case he decided to attack, then crept toward the corner. When she arrived, she fumbled with the supplies with one hand, her eyes focused on everything but the actual items.
She haphazardly opened the bottle of alcohol and threw it at her wound, wincing at the pain. When it came time for the gauze, she had to decide whether she was going to let her guard down or risk losing too much blood.
Arwynn set aside her weapon atop the counter, then scrambled to wrap her torso. Just as soon as she was done did she hear the door across the room open. Her eyes darted to the front of the room in time to see the door close by itself.
Her hand reached for her blade faster than a snake lunging at its prey. Her heart pounded, ragged breaths soon following. She strained to hear his footsteps, but could not hear even the faintest of scr
aping. She walked down an aisle, metal tables to her left and right.
With blade raised she waited for another attack. She actually welcomed him to, for it was her only way of counterattack. Backing up against one of the walls, Arwynn stopped to calm herself. The air was so silent that the pounding of her heart sounded like thunder.
There must have been some way to draw him out. Her eyes glossed over a corpse lying down atop the table beside her, and she tried her best not to gag from the sight and smell. Her thoughts then drifted to the sight of her adversary working on the corpse like a madman.
What if I tormented him instead?
She kicked over the table, lamenting the mishandling of a once-living person’s body. A loud clang echoed throughout the room followed by a thud as the body hit the ground.
“Oops, did I do that?” she called out.
Nothing.
Arwynn narrowed her eyes.
He’s not as dumb as I thought, but… what if he thinks that of me? He doesn’t know the depths of my abilities, either.
She walked toward the door, her body tense and her blade in front of her. With every couple steps she would twirl around like he was just behind her, and did so until she reached the door. She then lowered her sword and reached for the handle, pretending to lower her guard.
To her satisfaction, footsteps came at her from behind. Arwynn twirled, flicking her wrist as she did so and extending her blade until it wrapped around the space she occupied like a sharp-edged barrier.
Metal clanged, soon followed by a grunt of pain that emanated not from Arwynn’s mouth, but that of her foe. With one final flick, Arwynn shot out her blade in front of her, forcing her enemy to evade. The same footsteps now retreated from her.
And while she had only made a small cut with her blade, her foe had no idea that the battle was over.
One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four…
Arwynn counted in her head the rhythm that was her weapon’s special ability as she followed the drops of blood on the floor like a marked path to where she would find her paralyzed foe. Unlike her, he had forgotten to mask his trail of blood, and when the she hit the fourth four she heard a grunt emanate just a few steps away.
The trail of blood stopped just in front of the room’s far wall near the corner packed with medical supplies, affirming her that her enemy was defenseless to her attack. While her ability stopped her enemies for just a few seconds, those seconds were like minutes in a battle of life-and-death.
She pulled back her arm, then swung her blade at the space where her enemy occupied—
To her shock, her blade only swiped air.
What?
“Not so clever, are you, girl?” he taunted, fooling Arwynn with the trail of blood. She threw up her blade in defense, managing to parry a blow that was sure to have pierced her chest. An invisible fist struck her across the face, sending her hurtling into the wall.
Pain surged all over as she struck the wall. Before she could retaliate, she felt a hand pull her by the hair and then throw her head against the wall. Her vision turned to black for a moment, the pain so debilitating that she couldn’t even balance herself.
She slumped to the floor, the taste of blood in her mouth. She blinked several times, trying to make sense of the world around her. The back of her head felt wet, but she couldn’t spare the time to find out why. She was too busy using what attention she had on counting.
“Did you really think that I would fall prey to your elemental?” boasted her enemy. “I’ve dissected hundreds, no thousands, of elementalists. You insult me by thinking that I was as dim-witted as a tokalok. I’ll take a look at that small brain of yours and see what I can find.”
She could feel the sharp points of his claw grazing the side of her face, cutting just deep enough to feel stinging pain. He was toying with her, a mistake that was about to cost him dearly.
He grunted again as the poison took its effect for the second time, the source of his voice coming from just in front of Arwynn. Even so, she did not need his sound to know where he was; he was so close that his vile aura latched onto her skin like an iron clamp.
“Cadence is what my elemental is called,” Arwynn said as she stood up. She lifted up her blade, pushing aside her foe’s claw and then moving her hand until she felt her edge pressing against his throat. “Its poison doesn’t act just once, but many times, coming and going like the rhythm of dance. Not a thousand dissections will stop what’s about to happen to you.”
Slowly, Arwynn slit her foe’s throat, then withdrew her weapon and stepped back. As his life gushed to the floor, her foe’s weapon returned to its normal state and he reappeared. He clutched his open throat, lowering himself to the floor until he was as lifeless as the corpses around him.
_ _ _
“Ye can’t be serious?!” groaned Darius as he leapt off of the altar and somersaulted over the High Priest just in time to evade the latter’s attack, which pushed the pedestal with an invisible force and sent it crashing into the wall.
“We can’t afford you to have cold feet now, Darius!” said Truebolt.
“Cold feet?” he barked back. “Cold feet? False faith or not, there’s gotta be some rule somewhere about strikin’ down a man devoted to God.”
“And he’s devoted to his god by trying to kill you,” argued the elemental.
Darius gritted his teeth. He sprinted down the cathedral toward the entrance, hoping that he would not be followed out.
“I thought you to be a man of conviction?” taunted the High Priest, who remained just in front of the altar.
“There ain’t nothin’ right about shootin’ down a holy man,” Darius called back as he pushed on the door. But try as he might, the High Priest would not let him leave the cathedral. Darius turned around and raised his crossbow, aiming it at the elderly man who held his palms up in Darius’s direction.
“I’ve already told you, the only moment where you meet God is the one where he banishes you unto fire for eternity,” said the High Priest.
“For what?” Darius asked. “Just because I don’t follow the Faith?”
The High Priest shook his head. “No, because you are the Thumb-cutter.”
Darius guffawed. “How do ya know?”
“No one can hide from God’s gaze,” said the High Priest. “You were damned long ago. Now face me so that I may deliver you.”
Darius pulled the trigger of his crossbow, sending a charged bolt straight at the High Priest’s head—
It passed through harmlessly, striking the altar behind him and blasting it to bits. Darius furrowed his brows. Just then, it looked as though the High Priest had turned opaque like one would imagine a ghost to be.
The High Priest’s lips curled into a condescending smirk, further frustrating Darius. “The evidence is clear: your taint cannot touch a blessed soul.”
“Is that what ya think?” muttered Darius as he lifted up his crossbow again.
The High Priest decided to act first, throwing out his arm and sending a pew flying at Darius. The bounty hunter dove to the right behind another pew, the sound of wood cracking in his ears.
With his back up against the pew, Darius looked to his right at the shattered and splintered wood littering the floor in front of the two doors out. He lurched forward when the pew that he rested his back on lifted into the air, the High Priest glaring at him like he was some nuisance of a rat snuffed out.
“Darius!” urged Truebolt. Lightning arced across Darius’s released crossbow, just begging to be let loose. But the High Priest’s power was unlike any he’d ever come across.
Before the High Priest could send the pew crashing down on Darius, he rolled forward, leapt into air, and shot from his crossbow another bolt of lightning at his foe.
Just as before, the attack passed right through the High Priest as the elderly man’s form turned ghastly. The pew that he had lifted a moment ago crashed onto the floor where it had just been.
Darius narrowed his
eyes. The High Priest had relinquished his power at the onset of his ghost form. He also had stopped moving just as Darius’s attack was about to land.
“Did you really think that you could just come into Lenas and do what you willed?” asked the High Priest as he continued his advance.
“And did ya just think that you could wage war on a kingdom and do what you willed?” Darius fired back as he kept a good dozen feet in between him and the holy man.
“Not my will,” defended the High Priest as he closed his eyes for a moment, a look of disdain displayed on his wrinkled forehead. “God’s will.”
“Yeah, okay,” scoffed Darius, shooting another blast and watching closely for any hints. His bolt struck the stained glass behind the High Priest, shattering it into a million pieces. If the High Priest was furious that his cathedral was being picked apart piece-by-piece, he did not show it. “Samantha and Raxxil are right, the Order of the Faith is lost. Y’all ain’t got no damn idea what God’s about.”
“And what would two traitors know about God?” lashed the High Priest, lifting up a series of pews and tossing them at Darius, who shot them down with bolts of lightning. “By nightfall, the world will be rid of the Volcano and the rest of you heathens.”
From the now open window came the sound of fiery explosions and the rumbling of splitting-earth, bringing a smile to Darius’s face. “I reckon that ya may be a bit wrong on that part.”
The High Priest bit his lip in nervousness, a gesture that took Darius by surprise.
“So the legend is true, after all?” Darius asked. “The one about Raxxil. I thought that it was an exaggeration this whole time, but the way just his name makes ya shake. Even Liberty is afraid, isn’t he? That’s why he hasn’t come out yet.”
“You heathens know not what you speak of,” blasted the High Priest, sending some more pews Darius’s way.
Darius dodged, leading the High Priest back toward the altar. Darius then leapt back toward the set of doors at the other side of the room and raised his crossbow.
Silent Requiem (Tales of Ashkar Book 3) Page 37