by Ajax Lygan
Riika leaned over him, the two staring into each other’s eyes as she stroked his cheek. “Whatever happens today, know that I will always love you,” she said, her tone uncharacteristically soft.
It almost scared him. He pushed the fear out of his mind, raising a hand up, allowing her to lean her cheek into his palm.
“You will always be in my heart, in this life and the next.” She smiled and leaned in for a long kiss. The two sucked on each other’s bottom lip softly, slowly caressing the other’s face. They pulled away, smiled, and kissed again before Riika helped lift Tempest back up.
“Now, let’s kill them all,” she said with fire in her eyes, slapping the top of his shoulder pauldrons.
“It’s nice to see genuine love in a moment like this,” Kasta said, twisting her long neck around. “I envy you both, to have someone there for you.”
“Don’t worry, Kasta,” Tempest said, slapping her scales. “We’re right here with you.”
Her mouth opened slightly before smiling. She nodded at him before the two turned toward Orum as he gave his final speech. When he spoke, his voice boomed over the battlefield, pushing through the nearby clouds with each inflection of his voice.
“Brothers and sisters of Iðna, hear me! Today is a momentous day, one that will go down in history. Kingdoms from far and wide, composed of every race and religion gather on these scorching sands, not as enemies or combatants but as brothers and sisters, bonded in battle. We’ve gathered here for one unifying cause, to protect our way of life—to protect our home. A threat approaches, claiming they will cleanse us from this world."
He paused, then roared into the sky. “They will fail! Because we stand here united as one. When they press forward against our shields, we will not falter. Though we grow weary from battle, we will not waver. We will not fail! Together the hydra, the Aspect, and the people of Iðna will slay them all!”
The massive red dragon leered from the sky. “Teach them what happens when you attack our most sacred land! For Iðna!”
At the sound of his last booming shout, an ominous hum followed by a large spark of purple lightning shot into the vortex spinning above the destroyed city. A thunderous clank of metal rolled through the armies as they turned to face their attackers.
The sphere of the portal pulsed like a beating heart, morphing into a globe.
“Stand tall, stand fast, and stand together!” Orum shouted.
He had the last word before the battle began. Now, only their actions would determine the fate of Iðna.
25
The Chaos of War
Shouts to hold their position echoed from commanders as their troops shifted restlessly, becoming uneasy at the growing size of the portal and barrier. Crackling bolts of purple lightning were now a constant, blasting deafening cracks of power throughout the area.
The sand underneath the portal disappeared as the barrier’s circumference grew with every pulse of the beating portal, turning the ground into charred glass. The wind howled as the vortex above sprayed sand and the ocean’s mist caking the nearby land in a thickened sludge. A change in the lightning connecting the floating islands from a sporadic purple bolt to a solid red line of heated plasma foreshadowed the approaching threat.
“It has begun,” King Orum growled, barely loud enough for Tempest to hear.
Five door-sized droplets of black oozed from the portal, dripping to the ground like sap from a tree. Thin membrane sacks, reminiscent of Tempest’s first day on the planet, split open, revealing pale, gray bodies reminiscent of The Gray Hand, only these had darkened, gaping holes for eyes and no mouths.
Like husks built for a single purpose, the five bodies shuffled to the edge of the barrier before turning around and waving a pattern in the air. Black smoke poured from their hands, swarming the surface area of the portal. The pulsing behavior of the portal subsided as the cloud of thick smoke reached the globe’s peak.
A blinding light appeared in the center of the portal as the smoke tore outward, as if stripping away the skin from the orb, revealing a gateway into another world. A colossal creature the size of a several-story building was the first to step through the gateway. It had the skull of a jackal and a charred, smoking body that looked to have been built from thousands of bands of muscle.
The bands writhed, twisting and shifting as the thing moved, like parasites controlling a host. It dragged a blade that was more akin to a cleaver that stretched the length of itself. It slammed the blade into the ground as it reached the edge of the barrier, letting out a screeching roar that had everyone quickly clapping their hands over their ears.
A black cloud of smoke was next, flying through the gateway like a winding snake. When it reached the edge of the barrier, next to its beast-like companion, the smoke formed into a tall thin body that reminded Tempest of the creature he’d fought back at The Academy. Only this one was missing the top of its skull, giving its head a goblet like shape. The creature smiled, black ooze spilling from its mouth, as it surveyed the battlefield.
Tempest grit his teeth as the two creatures’ laughter scraped along every nerve, showing their impression of their foes.
We’ll make them regret that, Tempest promised himself, the fury within him building as he shifted in his seat, ready to jump in without hesitation. The two commanders of Nysit’s army turned to each other before they began. The two waved their arms about, making hand signals at each other in quick successions before the giant let out a large groan, stepping back from the barrier.
Were they fighting over who gets to make the first move? Tempest wondered. The thought enraged Tempest as he envisioned himself riding straight there on the back of Kasta, severing both of their heads with a single spin of his blades.
With a wave of his hands, the sorcerer began to manipulate large strands of plasma, rotating them along with the floating islands. The movement was slow, at first, but built faster and faster with each passing second. As the energy in the strands of plasma built, the fractures of the city tore apart, creating building sized chunks of shrapnel around the ball of energy.
Something about the spell concerned Orum as he shouted down below.
“Häguin, fire the machines now!” he bellowed.
Tempest heard the machines churn to life as energy began building in them. He could see the pink glow begin to fill the crystals as the mirrors flexed into position. However, the sounds of the spinning earth and charging plasma drowned out any nearby sounds.
“Häguin do it now!” Orum shouted again.
By this point Tempest had to raise his hand to shield his eyes from the barrier’s light as it glowed like a crystal reflecting sunlight.
“Häguin!” No one heard Orum’s final cry as the energy from the barrier released.
Tempest, Kasta, and Orum all had the same instinct. Within seconds, the three threw up magical shields, anticipating the attack. An enormous shadow shielded Tempest’s vision from the front, while he felt Orum’s flame on his left. They held them for several seconds, waiting until they felt the intense pressure from the shockwave of the sonic boom, before lowering their shields to reveal the outcome.
Much to Tempest’s horror, the devastating attack crippled much of their army.
It was clear that the purpose of the blast was a massive, ranged attack, using the hard rock and dirt as shrapnel to blast the entire area with. The central Halairim forces suffered the worst. Crushed bodies, entombed in their armor, lay motionless among the craters where the fragments had hit. The blast destroyed nearly half of the Halairim army with the single attack.
The Minotaur clans were the next most heavily injured, with several casualties along their front lines. Pockets of barriers dissipated among the Chiefs and shaman who’d attempted to protect their troops.
Tempest looked down to see Häguin’s machines destroyed, the shattered glass, crystal, and twisted metal lying in smoldering piles.
By the Gods’ blessing, the Ubi, the Firegrove, the orcs, and Ashwreath
’s cavalry all took only minimal casualties. The airborne groups fanned out behind their leaders hadn’t suffered any losses, either.
Tempest furrowed his brow when he saw Vatia and her troops behind Orum. Why isn’t she protecting herself and her soldiers?
Kasta, having the same question as Tempest, vented her frustration at her fellow Queen. “What the fuck was that, Vatia? Where is your guardian? And why do none of our troops have your protection?”
Vatia only glanced at Kasta as she flew on Orum’s other side, using him as a shield to ignore Kasta’s inquiry.
“Orum, what’s wrong with her?”
A deep horn sounded from the ocean before he could respond.
The backside of the gateway opened, spilling out a black ichor waterfall, tainting the nearby waters like an oil spill. Like people-sized leaches, black bodied creatures wriggled their way into the Ubian’s waters.
They had vertical tails, two arms, and maws with several rows of teeth. As soon as the invasion began, the Ubian’s were thrown on the defensive. The top of the water became a visceral dance of battle, and the sea churned in a veritable feeding frenzy. Red blood mixed with black as each wave of combatants slashed into their foes.
However, that wasn’t the true start of the attack.
The giant flicked his massive cleaver with a clawed finger, signaling the land assault as if ringing a giant dinner bell. Gurgling howls sounded as thousands of dog-like creatures, each with a dozen white eyes and tentacles spewing from their black ichor-soaked mouths, poured from the gateway in a crazed fervor. There was no direction or intelligence of the cannon fodder, as the dogs went for whatever enemy was closest. Distant battle cries and clashing blades filled the air as the various troops engaged the enemy.
To Tempest, it was pure chaos. There was too much going on all at once to focus. It was like looking into a tornado and hoping to find your lost shoe. Blades severed limbs, claws pierced flesh, and fatigue severed spirit.
As the minutes dragged on, it was clear the armies of Iðna were holding. As Tempest’s gaze jumped from group to group, he followed the flow of enemy combatants back to the gateway.
It was at that point that he realized, the barrier was gone. Its disappearance completely exposed the enemy commanders, both the general and the sorcerer. Tempest turned, and with a shout, pointed at the gateway. “Now’s our chance! The barrier is gone and we can attack the commanders directly!”
“We will stay true to our strategy,” Orum rebutted, his eyes not wavering from his focus on the field of battle. “The first side to engage with their commanders, will be the ones who lose the day.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, though, their sorcerer already engaged, he just destroyed half your troops.”
King Orum snapped his neck toward Tempest like a snake striking. “You will listen to my command as we agreed!” he shouted. “I will not throw your life away when we will need it later. But if you choose to run into the fight too soon, then by all means do so. It will be on your fall that we shall fail!”
Tempest furled his lip as he listened to the dragon’s disdain. Both men turned their focus back to the battlefield as they relied on the unity of Iðna’s people. Tempest felt Riika’s grip on his shoulder as she pulled him back to whisper, “Don’t listen to the scaly bastard. If you want to attack, I’m right behind you.”
“No…he’s right,” he said, turning and giving her a wan smile. “Orum knows what he’s doing. The last thing I want to do is lose more lives, by not sticking to the plan.”
“Okay, just give the word if you change your mind.”
He reached up, grasped her hand and kissed the back of it before turning back to regard the battlefield. The sands were stained black as the bodies of the horror hounds piled up against the shield wall of the front lines.
As if the continuation of a parade, the colors shifted from black to red as the foe’s infantry began marching through the gateway. Four-armed, muscle-bound bodies with boney jaws reminiscent of large felines, carried a blade in each hand. They marched forward with an organized purpose, showing no signs of individuality. They stopped at the edge of the battlefield, splitting into groups that aligned with the forces of each of the Iðnan kingdoms.
Shouts of victory sounded as the last of the black beasts perished.
The two Nysit commanders gave slow, condescending claps before issuing the order for their army to attack. In unified succession, the lines of the four-armed soldiers moved as one, charging each flank. They attacked without emotion and without fear, like golems created for the sole purpose of purging Iðna of its inhabitants.
As the enemy’s main force charged on land, so too, did its forces at sea.
Tempest immediately recognized the house sized crustaceans with humanoid skulls that began spilling out of the backside of the portal. It was clear to Tempest that their foe had pushed the line of engagement back from the beaches, as outside of the appearance of new enemies, the shallow waters were eerily calm. Like a witch’s brew over an open fire, the black-slicked water teemed with chunks of flesh, muscle, bone and sinew.
Focusing back on the troops directly below him, it was clear to Tempest that Halairim needed support. Even though they’d had superior numbers, the magical advantages held by the Firegrove and the minotaur clans were turning out to be the deciding factor in sustainability and raw power. As he turned to inform the others of what he saw, Tempest noticed that Orum was missing.
He twisted and turned, scanning the battlefield before finding the red dragon on the sands below. King Orum communicated with Chieftainess Wildfang for a brief moment before he launched back into the air.
Tempest watched the Chieftainess blow her war horn, rallying her tribesmen before sprinting toward the front lines. It was astonishing how much of an impact the orcs had on the flow of battle. The large orcs sprinted headfirst into the melee, forming a giant wedge with their finest warriors and driving the middle of the enemy’s flank backward.
Inspiring Halairim’s troops, many of the men in the rear ranks dropped their ranged weapons and surged after the orcs into the melee. Tempest turned to look at Orum, trying to determine if that had been intentional. The progress they were making was inspiring, and in that moment, Tempest felt a glimmer of hope.
Just as quickly as that hope came, however, the momentum of the battle shifted completely, smothering it.
The enemy sorcerer, leveraging the power of his own soldiers’ blood, began an incantation. Streams of blood, pulled from every orifice of even able-bodied individuals, swirled into a large orb above the sorcerer.
Everyone could sense the raw power from the caster’s ability.
“Take him down, now!” Orum shouted as the three dragons flapped their large wings for the edge of the battlefield.
Tempest watched as the giant beast moved in front of them, creating a defensible wall of raw muscle in front of his ally. The creature bent forward as bone spikes protruded from its spine, launching themselves like cart size javelins. The frequency of the shots was unnatural, new ones replacing those which had been launched in less than a second.
The dragons broke off in formation, trying to circle back to give them a better angle of attack. However, the precious seconds this distraction bought his ally was what their enemy needed.
Giant bolts of red electricity encircled the ball of blood as it floated into the middle of the vortex. Iðna’s own atmosphere shifted into a storm around the new blood-red moon. The ball began pulling in the lightning from the atmosphere, growing bigger with each jolt of energy until it was nearly the size of the gateway itself.
Once it hit its breaking point, one giant arc flashed across the sky into the distance, its destination unknown. The heat of the blast nearly cooked those below it. Tempest held his breath, wondering what calamity it would cause. Within seconds, the results of the attack were clear.
The attack incapacitated the entire right flank, as the Firegrove’s troops fell to the ground, unresp
onsive. The stone elementals collapsed into shards, while the ents fell over like freshly cut timber. Luckily, the dissolution of the magical creations into their base materials created a barrier that gave them some time, but it was the thousands of dryads screaming the same phrase over and over that sent a shiver down Tempest’s spine.
“It burns! It burns!” Their bodies writhed around on the ground, thrashing in pain, as if they were collectively being burned alive. Tempest feared the worst as he slapped Kasta’s scales and shouted to get her attention.
“Kasta, take us down, we have to help them!”
“We have to hold the right flank or we’ll lose everything!” she shouted, turning her body to join Orum and Vatia, who were already spreading lines of fire and light energy across the battlefield in an effort to hold the troops.
“Fuck this!” Riika shouted, grabbing Tempest by the shoulder and pulling him off the side of Kasta’s neck, sending them both into a free fall towards the Firegrove’s back line. Tempest immediately took control of their descent with his force magic, steering them toward the familiar carts of Bram and the boys.
They landed with a small thud, sprinting over to the group who were doing their best to pick up the wounded dryads and place them into their carts. The dryads screamed for help while rolling on the ground.
“Bram, where is Saïgra?” Tempest asked.
“Tempest? Riika? When did you get here?” the dwarf asked.
“We don’t have time to explain. Where is Saïgra and where is Queen Maileath?”
“She was leading near the front,” he said, swinging an unconscious dryad in one arm while pointing toward the massive avalanche that was all that remained of the fallen ents and stone elementals. Tempest didn’t let him finish before he took a few steps and jumped back into the air, pulling Riika with him.
The two hovered low, looking between the broken branches and stone chips for any sign of the dryads’ command group. He was certain, based on their positioning, if they found any dryad still standing, it would be her. It wasn’t until they reached the very front lines where they saw a lone dryad wedged waist up between two building sized boulders.