His last footfall came when he reached the holy light’s opposite edge. He stopped just inside the light’s perimeter, beyond evil’s grasp. The children were now directly behind him.
A bright flash of light originated from the orb in the guardian angel’s sword. What appeared could only be described as a second Waremasu, who stepped out of the original Waremasu as if he was a doorway. The second Waremasu was a mirror image, sword and all.
Without warning, the second Waremasu charged into the evil army’s midst. The clone’s blade swung with undeniable ferocity and felled scores of demons with lightning speed.
As the Waremasu clone tore through the evil ranks, a third Waremasu stepped out of the real Waremasu. Like the second Waremasu, the third charged forward and sliced into the enemy ranks. This type of replication took place again and again. Each resulted in a mirror image of Waremasu, who moved at unmeasurable speeds and in every direction, the replications slaying multitudes of demons.
The tenth replica was the last. The real Waremasu glanced down at his sword and watched the light blade lengthen as the darkness blade shortened. Every evil soul killed by his sword caused the length of the holy light sword to increase and caused the length of the dark sword to decrease.
The holy sword banished the cursed souls back to the underworld and burned their physical bodies to ash. The demons’ numbers thinned, and those not immediately killed fled in an attempt to save their lives. Some even filtered back through the broken outer wall.
Waremasu’s darkness blade receded entirely into the sword’s guard and vanished from sight. The light blade reached its maximum length at twenty-seven feet, an impressive sight. The sword’s glow intensified and was primed to release its power.
Suddenly, the Waremasu replicas vanished.
Waremasu crouched low for a moment, then, with an explosive movement, he leaped and shot straight up into the air.
When he was just below the crest of the inner wall, his white wings spread wide and halted his ascent. The angel hovered and extended his glowing sword forward. An immeasurably bright white light radiated outward from the sword in all directions. The holy light burned every evil soul it touched.
Horrendous screams and howls of agony could be heard below. Every evil being touched by the holy light’s burning rays turned to dust, and their souls returned to the underworld.
When the holy light faded from Waremasu’s sword, there was silence between the outer and inner walls. Waremasu descended to the ground and looked at his faithful sword, seeing that the holy light blade was gone. Its power was depleted.
Now the darkness blade was extended to its maximum twenty-seven feet. The power held within the holy light blade was used up. In its stead, the darkness blade would serve Waremasu. A thick black smoke swirled around the blade, distorting its appearance and size. Waremasu rotated the sword so the darkness blade’s edge faced the ground.
His color-changing eyes shifted to a huge opening in the outer wall, the same opening the gargantuans had created. In an instant, Waremasu raced through the opening and stopped on a rubble pile just outside the outer wall.
Waremasu gazed out at the destroyed farmlands surrounding Lesley. He saw the vast evil army besieging the great elven capital. His keen eyes watched as the smaller demons were filled with dread. A holy angel stood before them now. They spun around and fled for their lives. The bigger, more ominous demons stood their ground and neither advanced nor retreated, hesitation and apprehension plaguing them.
Waremasu fully extended his white wings for all to see. He clenched his sword’s hilt and lifted it in front of him. He tilted his sword slightly as he spoke words in the heavenly language.
“Purify the darkness,” Waremasu said in the ancient language.
Holy fire erupted from his sword’s guard and swiftly spread over the entire dark blade’s surface. The fire was controlled, not chaotic, and it fluidly bathed the sword like a river. The angel’s eyes gazed across the fields once more.
Waremasu stepped forward, then raced across the field. The righteous guardian’s movements were quick, but his sword of holy fire showed his flawless movements. The colossal sword swung fiercely through the crowd of scorched bodies and dropped many demons in a single pass. Their corpses created a broad wake behind Waremasu before bursting into ash.
The angel’s destruction swerved toward a group of gargantuans. Waremasu halted before the massive demons and raised his sword at the closest gargantuan.
It growled deeply at the angel and spoke to him in the ancient language of Heaven. “Those that dwell in the deepest depths are coming, angel . . . They will tear your wings from your back . . .”
“You will not see that day, primeval one,” Waremasu said.
The gargantuan roared in Heaven’s tongue, “You will.”
Waremasu tore through the gargantuan and his brethren. His blade of holy fire burned their corpses before they hit the ground, bursting into ash.
This day, these events, they are not the end. That unwanted realization crept into Waremasu’s mind, and so the turmoil began to churn once more within Waremasu’s soul while the guardian’s blade culled the mass’s numbers.
For every death, the dark blade shortened. Swaths of fleeing enemies were turned to tranquil and silent fields. Waremasu’s heart yearned for redemption yet he understood he would never find salvation. Unforgivable actions stripped him from grace. All he could hope for was to make amends through his actions in what little time he had left.
His dark blade diminished to fifteen feet in length, and, as if a new stage was reached, the holy fire dissipated. It revealed once again the dark blade. Thick black smoke seeped from the sword and obscured it. Waremasu’s movements showed no sign of slowing. On a night with no moon or starlight, due to cloud cover, the dark sword deceptively sliced through the air. It appeared and disappeared in absolute silence.
The fields around Lesley grew quieter and quieter. Most of the remaining demons screamed in horror or roared in anger as they were overwhelmed by their fear. Thousands upon thousands of their kind burned to ash and disappeared from the mortal lands. The angel’s sword appeared as a shadow and stole its victims’ souls without forewarning.
Waremasu’s sword quickly reached the next stage. The light sword extended to four feet in length, and in mirror image the dark sword diminished to an equal length.
The angel stopped midstride and stood in the farmland. A bright flash originated from the orb of Waremasu’s sword, and the extraordinary replication phenomenon occurred again, just as it had before between Lesley’s outer and inner walls.
A second Waremasu stepped out of the original Waremasu as if he was a doorway. The replication occurred more quickly this time. Soon a dozen copies of Waremasu sped across Lesley’s fields and eradicated any evil they could find.
All the while, Waremasu watched as his swords approached their final stage. His dark blade vanished into his sword’s guard, and the holy light blade reached its full length of twenty-seven feet. A flash of light originated from the orb once again, and as an echo the holy light sword brightly gleamed. Waremasu’s replicas vanished in brief flashes of light.
The angel crouched low and then leaped high into the sky. As he rose, his form diminished, and all that could be seen from the ground was his sword’s wonderous glow. Just as it seemed he would fade from view, an overpowering light burst forth, effectively turning night into day.
The holy light’s reach was without limit. The light expanded through the Mythios Woods and pierced through the giant redwoods’ limbs. The light relentlessly sought out its quarry. Death screams could be heard in all directions as the light burned the remaining evil to ash.
The horrid screams faded, and the air grew still as the brilliant light ceased.
All was quiet now.
The natural wind could be heard again as the roar of war was no more. Distantly flapping wings could be heard. Gradually, the sound grew louder as an angelic form peacefully desc
ended to the ground. The angel landed and knelt low on one knee. Great wings of white folded gracefully on his back, and the angel’s golden armor brilliantly shined.
Waremasu laid his dark sword, enshrouded in black mist, on the bloodied grass. The angel’s color-changing irises gazed across Lesley’s hushed fields. The only remaining trace that evil had besieged the once-great city of Lesley was the black blood staining the trampled grass. The holy light had purged all physical evil from the land north of Lesley.
Still kneeling, the angel shifted his eyes to the sky.
“I have done all that is in my power. My sword is now yours once again,” the honorable angel said with sorrowful eyes. “Much has been torn away from the mortals. Neither request for forgiveness nor service will mend their wounds. I will accept your judgment.” Waremasu’s gaze lowered as his words settled into his mind.
As Waremasu attempted to clear his mind, shame beset him. A pair of tears escaped his eyes. “If I could right my wrongs . . . I would gladly give my life for the chance.”
Waremasu’s stoic countenance was broken and stripped away as he succumbed to his emotions. Overwhelming sorrow swept over him as unrelenting regret for his transgressions consumed him. An almost eerie silence surrounded the somber scene, save for muffled sobs escaping Waremasu’s quivering jaw.
The angel had felled thousands of evil beings. The blood of his enemies had been spilled without mercy. Yet Waremasu’s sight could not perceive his newest deeds. He only saw what plagued him deep within his soul.
There was a time of silence.
Then the Divine One’s voice thundered in Waremasu’s mind. “Worthy was your protection.”
Waremasu’s tears ceased as he gazed to the sky.
“Another cries for help. Will you stand and answer the prayer?” the Divine One said.
“Why not send another of the host?” Waremasu searched for clarity.
“The host prepares for war. You must right your wrongs, Waremasu . . .” the Divine One’s voice thundered.
The angel hesitated but reached for his sword. Waremasu rose to his feet and studied Lesley’s battered defenses. His resolve returned, and he awaited the decree.
“A girl weeps for her love. Save her from her sorrow. Save the individual her heart yearns to protect. Her love stands on Lesley’s main road,” the Divine One’s voice commanded.
Chapter 24
Dreams of Sorrow
Shattered power proves more fearsome than complete power, when accompanied by darkness. For unlike its glorious kin, neither aim nor measure attends its gaze.
The Ikalreev Prophecies 8:30–32
“Zauvek.”
A silence filled the void.
“Zauvek!” The seven chaotic voices tore at the fallen angel’s ears.
The old angel’s eyes shot open in shock. “Huh! Who is there?”
Zauvek sat up and scanned the area. He first saw a giant gargantuan head crushed before him beneath the inner wall’s weight.
“Hah! It seems the better survived,” Zauvek shouted triumphantly at the dead beast.
“Barely,” sounded seven sarcastic remarks from his right.
Zauvek turned his gaze and saw Waremasu pointing with his dark sword toward the beast’s head. Zauvek looked back at the gargantuan and located one of his shoes that was stuck between the gargantuan’s foul teeth.
“O-ho, right you are, but still the better,” Zauvek said as he stood up and walked to his shoe.
“Suppose I will not be using that again,” Zauvek mumbled while inspecting it. The shoe was shredded and deformed.
“You are alive, Waremasu?” the old angel questioned over his shoulder as he proceeded to remove his other shoe.
“I never died,” Waremasu said.
Zauvek thought back to the emotions he had felt. “I thought you had, though I am glad you did not. I would hate to be alone. It would prove most difficult,” Zauvek said. “It is good to see you again, old friend.”
This was the first time Zauvek had seen Waremasu’s face since his fall from grace, and he stopped when he realized the protective shroud of darkness and clothing from a far-off land were gone.
“You have your sword? How did you come by it?” Zauvek questioned with an envious sidelong glance.
“The boy prayed for protection. Grace for his faith,” Waremasu said.
Zauvek raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “He did not send another to protect the children?”
“No.”
“I wonder why?”
“There is a purpose, even if we do not know it.”
“Do I get mine?” Zauvek rhetorically joked.
Waremasu brushed the question aside. “Come, Zauvek, we must go.”
“Where?” Zauvek said, his legs weak from his ally’s cursed voices.
“You know where.”
“You have seen him. Is it bad?”
“Yes.”
Zauvek hesitated with a dread-filled expression. “So, it is inevitable . . . let us be on our way, old friend.”
Waremasu reunited Zauvek with his faithful staff, and they began to walk. They attempted to prepare their minds for what was to come yet neither of them knew exactly what to expect. The pair rounded the inside perimeter of the inner wall and turned up the main road toward the castle. Zauvek’s grip on his gnarled staff tightened and loosened. His grip shifted back and forth while his mind toiled.
Zauvek eyed Waremasu. “Is he alone?”
“Yes.”
“Is he still Faolan?”
Waremasu looked at Zauvek from the corner of his eyes without an answer but gave his response silently with the telling glance.
“Does he have wings?” Zauvek asked.
“Yes.”
Zauvek shifted uneasily. “Then he has power?”
“Some.”
“The swords?” Zauvek wondered.
“Dormant.”
“Then we have time.”
Waremasu remained calm and stoically marched in his golden armor with his sword of darkness and light held loosely in his hand.
Zauvek hobbled, using his staff for balance. His bones ached from the previous intense battle, and he dreaded the coming fight.
Waremasu watched the old angel’s awkward steps and lifted his chin slightly. “This will not be easy.”
Zauvek grunted. “As if what we just accomplished was?”
“The fight we endured will be eclipsed by the coming war.” Waremasu sternly caught Zauvek’s eyes with his own.
The old angel understood all too well what Waremasu meant by those words and set his jesting aside.
“Should he remember . . .”
Waremasu did not finish the statement as he caught sight of the subject of their conversation. The pair had found Faolan on the main road, just outside the castle gates. They slowed their pace as they approached the transforming individual. Their eyes were locked onto him.
“What is our plan?” Zauvek asked in a hushed tone.
Waremasu did not immediately answer. They stopped one hundred paces from Faolan and observed.
Their target had heard them approaching yet did not acknowledge their presence. The darkening being stood near the deceased body of Telfaldetrous.
Zauvek observed the unstable mixing of powers in Faolan. His keen sight focused on Faolan’s eyes, seeing the individual’s left eye had a black sclera and color-changing iris while his right eye was glowing white.
Faolan inspected his unfamiliar surroundings with a distant gaze as if he could not remember where he was or what was happening. An uncomfortable expression crossed his face as he stared at the destroyed buildings and carnage surrounding him. A different lens covered his sight, and a stranger gazed through the windows to his soul.
Zauvek leaned toward Waremasu. “Bit of odd behavior if you ask me.”
“We must stop him before he remembers his name,” Waremasu cautioned, uncertain about Faolan’s mental status.
“Which one?” Zauvek truthfully qu
estioned. “Who does he claim to be?”
Waremasu hesitated a moment, then stepped forward and posed the question to the confused individual standing over the dead demon.
“What is your name?” Waremasu said with seven echoing voices in the common tongue of the elven kingdom.
Faolan did not answer, nor did he acknowledge the angel’s inquiry. He merely shifted his gaze calmly across the surrounding landscape, taking in the destruction.
Waremasu speculated with a keen eye. He took another step forward and posed the same question, this time in a mortal language so ancient that not even the Ikalreev would know of it.
“Kahl naj ato tuuya?” Waremasu said.
“What is your name?”
Faolan’s head swiveled toward Waremasu with narrowing eyes, and an answer rang out. “Volam.”
Zauvek’s eyes widened, and he apprehensively stepped back. “He understands the language of the Failith!”
“Tay ati dahj kona ati na?” Waremasu asked.
“Do you know where you are?”
“Zaan . . . lai isa fayan aiya tulian yit doja,” Volam said.
“No . . . yet this scene feels familiar to me.”
“Kona tay ati ghin ellaya?” Waremasu asked.
“Where do you call home?”
Volam’s grip on his two swords tightened. “Ati dahj dojan itlania lai ati tay zaht dahj dojan bani?”
“You know my language yet you do not know my city?”
Waremasu quickly spoke its name. “Lithyana, bani pat eset Failith.”
“Lithyana, city of the Failith.”
“Kaya na ati?” Volam questioned in return.
“Who are you?”
“Toshanaa . . .” Waremasu dared not say his own name for fear of awakening Razbijen.
“Shadow.”
Volam stepped away from Telfaldetrous’s body. He shifted his gaze and peered off toward the east. After a moment, Volam looked back over his shoulder with a smirk.
The First Seal Page 30