Maw of the Devourer, page 44
Azure climbed down the hill with a tight grip on her spear. A familiar grey bird flew down in front of her. “Turn around!”
“Why?” Azure raised her voice to be heard over the rumbling thunder. “You want me hunting cultists, so here I am! Why do I have to turn around?”
“You can deal with this rabble later. There are greater prey to prioritise. The leaders, for one.” Azure grunted at Stratos and tried to step around his cloudy form, but he flew in front of her again and blocked her path. “If you do not stop the champion of Stormrider, then the Lithyan army will fall. All of those soldiers’ lives will be on your hands, Azure. And you would not like that, would you?”
Azure froze. Stratos was right—she didn’t want the lives of thousands on her hands just because she refused to save them. But how could she trust he wasn’t manipulating her again? Did he make her think like that? Could she tell if that was the case? She hadn’t noticed back in that village.
But did it matter?
Azure stood frozen for a few minutes as the icy rain soaked into her bones. Emotions raged a war inside of her heart. Stratos watched her, giving nothing away with his avian features—and Azure hated him anew for that. Maybe if she could hate Stratos, that meant he wasn’t manipulating her? It was a futile hope, but she would cling to it, regardless.
Azure turned on her heel and trudged back up the hill. “I’m not doing this for you! Just show me the blasted way and tell me how you plan to get me past an entire army!”
“Ha!” Stratos’s laugh sounded like a peal of thunder. Azure stumbled and barely caught herself before she slipped in the mud. Had she just heard Stratos laugh? When she recovered and stomped onwards, Stratos followed her. “I am the King of the Sky, after all.”
***
Lyon watched the battle rage on, heedless of the rain that fell on Lithyan and Dracalian alike. The living and dead alike, too.
Flashes of lightning arced around the fort. Some hit the plan harmlessly, while others slammed into the stone walls and carved gashes out of the stone with each impact. One had struck a dozen Lithyans and seared their flesh in an instant. He had seen the horrific scene at a distance, but those closer had gagged at the smell of burning flesh.
As soon as the Storm had arrived and began its assault in proper, the Dracalians had pushed hard to reach the top of the hill. Lyon’s allies had answered with a rain of arrows. The Dracalians had not faltered even as dozens had fallen under the volleys, and they had established a hold at the base of the walls. Lyon watched helplessly as they brought ladders forward and raised them to the wall. So far, the Dracalians had not secured a foothold on the wall; either Lithyan soldiers pushed the ladders off or drenched them with oil. The smell of burning wood and more flesh wafted across the battlefield, even as the torrential rain put out the fires.
Despite the hopeless fight in front of them, the Dracalians threw themselves at the walls with a terrifying fervour. They happily stepped over their dead to reach each new ladder. They believed either their efforts would bear success or the Storm would tear a hole in the wall for them.
As if to punctuate his pessimism, a catapult launched a boulder into the wall a short distance from Lyon, and the entire structure shook from the impact. He stumbled, but kept his footing and rushed to look over the wall and inspect the damage. Thankfully, the wall was still intact, but it concerned him how the Dracalians ignored how boulder squished their own soldiers at the base of the wall. The sight of the blood and limbs sticking out from behind the enormous chunk of rock nauseated Lyon.
Lyon turned away from the gore and surveyed the length of the wall. He spotted a ladder being carried to the wall close by and the carriers caught his eye. All four were clearly Followers, judging by their lack of a uniform and how they carried the heavy, wooden ladder at a run. The wrongness pervading from them set them apart, even among the Dracalian army crowding below the wall, and Lyon noticed another pair of Followers running behind the ladder.
“Lyn!” Lyon turned and found the princess watching the Followers. “I’ll handle this lot!”
Solalyn nodded without a hint of argument. “Light be with you!” She turned to her guard, who flanked her closely and gave a command he did not hear.
Vord, Lorne, and Tristrim broke off from Solalyn and rushed to Lyon’s side. Two Moon Marks; hopefully, they would be enough to handle the Followers. They couldn’t afford to split their forces any more, though, so the four of them would have to do. Otherwise, the regular soldiers just wouldn’t stand a chance against those monstrous Followers. With heavy legs, Lyon ran towards the length of the wall.
The four Followers erected the ladder flawlessly, with no hitch to their movements nor hesitation as arrows flew towards them. The two Followers who had followed their companions ran up the angled ladder as if it were a ramp. They leapt onto the wall and kicked at the Lithyan soldiers in their way. Each blow sent a soldier flying off of the wall. One kick even bent the soldier’s metal breastplate as it sent him flying.
Lyon watched helplessly as the two Followers did what dozens of Dracalian soldiers had failed to do. They carved a foothold atop the wall with apparent ease and the other four Followers joined them atop the wall. With the reinforcements, the Followers forced back the Lithyan soldiers at a swifter pace. Dracalian soldiers angled for the ladder and climbed after the cultists.
“You three work together!” Lyon said, and Solalyn’s guards nodded.
Lyon Illuminated brightly and two swords flickered alight beside him. He surged towards the closest Follower. The woman didn’t notice him coming, and he stabbed her back before shoving her off his blade. She stumbled and fell from the wall, landing below with a heavy thud. Solalyn’s guards set upon the second Follower and Lyon turned his attention to the third.
The other three cultists fought on the other side of the wall and Lyon focussed on the tall man in front of him. The cultists threw a punch, and it whooshed through the air where Lyon’s head had been seconds ago. Then he pivoted and grabbed at Lyon. Lyon stepped to the side and took the man’s grasping hand off in one swipe.
“Yeargh!” The Follower’s face scrunched into a nasty scowl and his companions further down the wall turned at the noise.
Flames! Lyon thought. I need to finish this quickly! Lyon brightened his Illumination and hacked at the cultist’s neck. His blade cleaved into the meaty flesh, but it took a second swipe to take the head clean off.
Vord and Tristrim fought the second Follower. Lorne moved between them, but she couldn’t match the sharp movements of the Illuminated Moon Marks. Just as Lorne scored a slash along the cultist’s arm, the three other Followers charged Tristrim. The poor man had his back to the cultists and didn’t see the Follower’s fist slam into his back with a nasty crunch. Tristrim’s eyes widened, and he stumbled to the side.
And fell off the wall.
“NO!” Lyon charged at the offending Follower, only to be intercepted by the other two cultists. They forced him to dance back as they reached for him. The tight confines of the wall provided little room to work with, and a growl built in Lyon’s throat. He couldn’t handle two Followers at the same time. At least, not without pushing himself.
Lyon brightened his Illumination, and the world slowed down. Just using it briefly would tire him out, and he couldn’t afford that in a drawn-out battle. But neither could he let these cultists live a second longer. Lyon moved through the slowed down world and it only resisted him slightly as he scored hit after hit. In an instant, he reversed their position. The Followers fell back under his assault and the woman slipped on a pool of blood.
When she stumbled, Lyon stabbed the cultist in the gut. As he pulled his sword from her, she snaked a hand onto the blade. Lyon yanked on the side, but she clung to the metal as if carved into her hands. A punch slammed into Lyon’s left shoulder and he let go of his sword as the blow sent him stumbling to the side. Pain flooded his arm, and it refused to move properly for a moment.
The man charged him and Lyon leapt back. With a disturbing grin, the woman holding his sword tottered off the wall and took the blade with her. Lyon cursed as he retreated, only bump into someone. When he turned, Lorne’s lifeless eyes greeted him. The woman’s back was to him, but her head twisted to stare at him. An impassive follower held her broken neck in her hands, and Lorne’s sword fell from her grip.
Lyon roared and grabbed the sword before it fell. He pivoted in a smooth motion and skewered the Follower holding Lorne. The woman’s eyes widened, and she reached for his sword, but Lyon ripped it free before she could grab it. The cultist stumbled to the side and revealed a wounded Vord standing behind her. A dead cultist laid at his feet, but Vord stared at something behind Lyon.
Lyon spun in time to see a Follower reach for his head. The man’s fingers brushed Lyon’s face and Lyon Illuminated brighter than he ever had. The world ground to a halt. Lyon watched the man’s hands freeze. The din of battle faded to a dull drone.
None of that mattered. Lyon waded through the frozen world. His body felt more sluggish than ever before. But he still twisted out of the Follower’s reach and brought his sword up in one smooth motion. As soon as the blade tore into flesh, Lyon dimmed his Illumination. The world sped up, but it remained slowed.
The Follower’s hands clapped together and his eyes widened when Lyon’s head wasn’t between them. A second later, Lyon’s sword took the man’s hands clean off. The second swing, made as fast as he could, took the Follower’s head off before the cultist could scream at the loss of his hands.
Lyon dimmed his Illumination further, barely leaving his sword alight as he stumbled away from the Dracalian soldiers rushing up the ladder. Lithyan soldiers surged past him and charged their foes, working to push them off the wall. He should join them, but fatigue crashed down on Lyon and he needed a moment to catch his breath. Or more than a moment.
Thankfully, the Lithyan soldiers cut their way to the ladder and poured a pot of burning oil onto it. The wood flashed alight in seconds and Lyon cringed as the oil splashed on the Dracalians climbing the ladder. Their screams tore across the wall and a horrible stench wafted over to Lyon.
That was one problem dealt with.
“Another ladder down the way, sir!” Vord gestured further down the wall. “Followers, too! Flaming monsters!”
Lyon followed the man’s gesture and growled.
***
Squall was the Storm.
He urged bolts of lightning down at the fort, watching them carve through the stone like a hot knife through butter. His rain drenched all within his range—if he wanted, he could easily flood the plains, couldn’t he? The booming peals of thunder were his heartbeat, and the thunderclouds were his body.
“…all…” Barely louder than a whisper, it sounded like someone shouted at him from a distance. “Squall…”
That’s right, Squall thought. I’m not the Storm. I’m me.
Just his lowly self; the one controlling the Storm. The elation of destroying the fort fled from Squall in an instant, and only anxious fear remained. Coaxing the Storm to unleash lightning against the fort was easy; it was like a puppy ready to bounce around and run without a care in the world. It was forcing the Storm to target just the fort and not unleash pillars of light at everything around the structure that proved nearly impossible.
But that was what Squall was supposed to be doing. Somehow.
“Squall…”
He knew it was Ceptin, or maybe Lyrria, shouting encouragement at him, but Squall could not hear them. Not since he began his assault. No, he wasn’t the Storm! Joy surged in Squall’s heart, but it wasn’t his. It was the Storm’s.
Squall watched over the fort wearily and felt energy buildup in the Storm once again. Just as he groaned, he instinctively recognised the energy as a bolt of lightning about to arc down at the fort’s wall. At least that was one lightning strike he wouldn’t have to wrestle control of. It took so much effort to divert the lightning that targeted the Dracalian army. He urged the Storm on, willing it to copy exactly what it had just done again and again.
Something slammed him into the ground.
Mud caked the left side of Squall’s face and some splashed into his eyes. He rubbed at his eyes and sat up with a groan. Ceptin crouched next to him and, judging by how mud also caked his side, he was the one who had tackled Squall. Lyrria crouched over them and held a shield up. She stared to the south and Squall finally noticed the chaos surrounding them.
Squall got his feet underneath him and crouched. “What’s going on?”
“Enemy cavalry,” Ceptin said. “They hit the flank and mounted archers are launching volleys in our direction.” As if to punctuate that, a lone arrow whooshed through the air and landed a couple of metres away.
“Ah! But Calriss said we’d be safe!”
“Never mind that now. Just keep your head down. Can you control the Storm and stay aware of your surroundings?”
“It would make defending you a lot easier!” Lyrria stared toward the sound of battle and held her shield at the ready.
“I can try!” Squall reached for his Senses, but they slipped away from him. His heart raced so fast it felt like it would burst from his chest. “I-I can’t! I can’t control the Storm!”
Ceptin cursed under his breath and grabbed Squall’s shoulders. “You are panicking, Squall. You need to calm down if you want to control the Storm again, okay?”
“I know!” Squall felt an irrational urge to hit the man for saying the obvious, but that only made him feel worse.
“We need to move further back!” Lyrria gestured at the chaos in front of them. A loud thud followed her statement as an arrow slammed into her shield and Lyrria’s eyes widened at the impact. She shot a frightened look at Squall and Ceptin, and he realised she hadn’t seen the arrow coming.
Ceptin nodded, but immediately froze, and his eyes widened. Squall glanced around, but he couldn’t see what had surprised Ceptin. “What is it?”
“Lyrria, Squall!” Ceptin said. “You need to get to the box I brought here with me! Open it!”
“What?”
Ceptin grabbed their arms, and he pulled them towards the box. “Just do it!”
They walked another couple of steps before Ceptin froze and his grip on Squall’s arm loosened. Squall frowned as the man’s hands fell to his side. Slowly, Ceptin half-turned towards him and Squall spotted the arrow sicking out of the man’s neck.
Ceptin fell to the ground.
Dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Squall stared at Ceptin’s motionless body.
He was dead.
Ceptin, who had aided him in avenging his family and village. Ceptin, who had guided him to Geovenos safely. Ceptin, who had always been an irritating, yet comforting, presence in Squall’s life since he had met him.
Ceptin was dead.
Lyrria pulled Squall away from Ceptin’s body. “Focus, Squall! Please!”
He glanced at Lyrria. Her face was pale, more so than usual, and the shock in her eyes mirrored his own. A single look at her was enough to shake Squall out of his daze. He knew he couldn’t just stand there doing nothing and endanger Lyrria’s life. He had to move, if only to keep both Lyrria and himself safe!
But Ceptin… No! That could wait for later—much later. For now, he pushed his emotions deep down. Lyrria nodded at the change of expression on Squall’s face and set off at a jog away from the Lithyan arrows. Squall followed her, only slowing when he felt like he was about to slip in the mud formed by countless soldiers trampling over the dirt in the torrential rain.
“Where are we going?” Squall asked.
Lyrria shrugged and glanced around furtively. “I don’t know! But far away from the Lithyans would be best, right?”
Squall glanced towards the Dracalian flank and cringed when he saw Lithyan troops. The Dracalian infantry lost ground against the Lithyan cavalry at an alarming rate. “Yes!”
“You need to get to the box!” Ceptin’s last words echoed in Squall’s mind.
“No…” Squall grabbed Lyrria’s arm. “We need to get to the box. Like Ceptin told us!” He had sounded so insistent, like it was important.
Lyrria yanked her arm free and shook her head. “Do you remember what I said about doing something stupid out of blind loyalty?”
Squall grabbed her arm again and stomped back the way they came. Lyrria pulled her arm free again and sighed when Squall continued back to the box. She ran ahead of him and held up her shield while watching for rogue arrows. When Squall spotted a shield on the ground, he grabbed it and imitated Lyrria. He felt like a child playing rather than someone defending his life, but Lyrria didn’t laugh at him and instead nodded.
Though it felt like an eternity, it only took a minute for Squall and Lyrria to make it back to where Ceptin fell. They found the box stacked below some supplies a short distance from where Ceptin had died… The sounds of fighting grew louder with each passing second and not even the rumbling thunder could drown it out. Squall froze in front of the long box. Something was off.
“Come on, Squall!” Lyrria stepped up to the box and grabbed the first box on the stack. “Help me get this stuff off!”
Lyrria lifted the box and dumped it to the side. Squall shook himself and moved to help her, but he froze again. “Do you hear that?”
“Just focus and get this stuff… Huh? What is that?”
Thump, thump, thump. The sound came from inside the box.
Squall shared a look with Lyrria and, without saying a word, they shifted the supplies off of the box’s lid as quickly as they could. He did not know what was inside, but Ceptin had seemed to think it was important and, whatever it was, it seemed to be alive. When they cleared the last of the supplies off the box, Squall moved to open the lid.
But the thumping stopped, and the lid opened on its own.
