Stars' Light, page 32
“Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath. There had only been some minor wounds in most of the groups. The most serious had been some lacerations that required stitches, which were being applied back up the tunnel, away from the carnage they had found here in the heart of the hive.
It was sickening. They had been feeding on many of the men. Bodies torn apart, and there was a cave filled with piles of bones. It looked like they had eaten enough to kill the whole city several times over. The rotted meat smell was just that. The stench from rotted human flesh and meat. They had also found a room where women had been tied up and used for the Gods knew what. He shook his head in disgust. This was beyond anything he had ever thought was possible. It made his crimes look small and insignificant.
Sarannya stood at the entrance to the cave where the women had been tied up. She kept brushing ash from her shoulders and shaking it out of her hair. Where is all of this coming from? How can there be this much? She turned back to Lubos. “Get the unit back up the tunnel and out of this. It will do them good to be nearer to the surface.”
He nodded. “Of course, Colonel. I will get them situated, and then I will be back down to check on you. I shall leave Martin in command in my absence. I would recommend that you promote him before the next engagement, in case something happens to me. Then the unit will still have some type of command structure.” He paused. “Colonel.” He saluted and started back up the tunnel.
She smiled softly at him, and then turned back to the cave. The General was moving among the women that were still alive. Several of them had died many days ago, giving birth to small larvae that had been destroyed near the heart of the hive, where they’d been chewing on the meat of corpses. The women’s abdomens looked like they had popped. Their guts were gone, having been eaten. She had puked several times, and so the General had instructed her to leave the cave.
Jorian walked towards her, carrying an empty cup. He moved past her to a small fire that was boiling water for tea. She frowned, turning to follow him. “I don’t understand why you are giving them tea? We should heal them, the way you healed me and Kiril. We can use the light. I still have some left.” She stopped as the General knelt down near the fire and poured another cup.
“First, there is not enough light to save these women’s bodies. They have been used and injected with larvae. I have tried many times to find a means to heal them, but there is none.” Jorian filled his tea cup.
“I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that the light could be limited in any capacity. And, if there is a way, you are the only one among us that can possibly find it.” Sarannya stood over her teacher, her body full of conviction.
Jorian paused, a sad smile creasing his face. “You are correct little bug, and the light cannot be limited in anything that is desired, but the Eighth Essence has not been fully found yet. I have found evidence of it, but I have not mastered it. In fact, I have only recently realized that it existed in the first place.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Come with me.”
They walked into the cave, and Sarannya placed a hand over her mouth. The smell in the room was overpowering. Her mouth started to water, and she thought she might puke again. The pain and suffering of the women assaulted her, but the light around her heart kept out the disturbances. Sarannya clung to that light, and allowed her hand to drop.
The women had been tied to makeshift platforms with their hands secured above their heads, their legs pulled apart and tied off, and their heads had been placed in a vice-like contraption that kept them from thrashing around. The women were all incoherent, massively dehydrated ,and starved. Only three were still alive. Two had passed, their pain being lessened by the General’s tea.
Sarannya frowned. The tea. He was killing them with the tea! “Are you poisoning them with your tea?” she asked harshly.
Jorian stopped and turned towards her. “Before you judge, oh great one. Look!” He connected her to what he could see through the Eighth Essence.
Sarannya gasped, falling back, seeing the life strands of her, the General, Kiril, and everyone around her. And then in a blink, it was focused on the women who lay, cut free from their bonds. She saw the strands that lead each woman here with each decision that was made. There was not a single strand that left from here.
Sarannya lurched as the vision went away and tears sprang to her eyes. “Why would anyone want to know what you know, and be what we are? It seems to be nothing but a path of pain.”
Jorian reached out to her, but she stepped back, just wanting to get this done with, and to be alone. He left her there, watching as he went and poured the tea into the woman’s mouth. Her pain receded, and there seemed to be a semblance of peace that filled her face. Sarannya could see the General sending light into her body. At the very end, the woman’s body completely relaxed, and then she breathed her last.
She saw a small smile grace the General’s face when he looked up at her. He stood and walked past her to put his pot and cup back into his satchel, which he then slung back over his shoulder. Sarannya had been so focused on the battle ahead, she had never noticed that he was carrying it.
“Come. It is time to leave,” he said, turning away from the fire as it began to build in intensity. Sarannya hurried to catch up, looking back over her shoulder several times as the fire got brighter and hotter. The air began to move in torrents around her.
“I’m sorry. I should not have said what I did.” Sarannya said quietly behind her teacher as they walked out together. Lubos was waiting for her not far from the fire, and followed her and the General out. Lubos was quiet, but his presence seemed an intrusion to her, even though he was doing something nice.
“Sergeant, could you please give us a moment,” Jorian said to the scarred man.
“Of course, General. Colonel. I shall be waiting for you outside.” He nodded and walked ahead, out into the light.
Jorian waited until Lubos was well ahead of them before they continued up towards the entrance to the hive. He spoke quietly, but loud enough that Sarannya could hear.
“You will find, the farther along you go, you will be able to sense what I like to call the Divine Wind. The Divine Wind is the will of heaven. The winds of intention that come from He who put everything here, and who has allowed us the abilities to do what we can do; not to mention, the Rimerian blades that we carry.
“As you make decisions, it is important to always make them without considering your own wants and desires. Making decisions according to your wants and desires will lead you down a path that will destroy or limit you. Zorian made this mistake when she became able to see her own life strand. She made decisions based on what she thought, instead of listening to the Divine Wind. The Divine Wind will always lead you to the correct path. But remember, this may not be the path that you wanted, but it is the path that you need. This is what it means to be a true Tracian Knight. You follow the true path, not your path,” Jorian finished as they neared the surface. The air was cooler and a bit fresher as smoke was roiling around the ceiling above them.
Sarannya could feel the cleansing power of the fire on the rock, and everything in the hive as it consumed all. She nodded, listening to her teacher. “Have you made this mistake?” she asked timidly.
“Many times. But always, I look back to the light for guidance, and I try to learn and grow. I almost made that mistake with you. I am pleased that I did not.” He turned back to her as they stepped outside into the morning air. It was warmer, the sun having moved farther along in the sky.
There was a commotion as they came out into the morning sun.
“General, look at the horizon towards Marpesia.” Kiril gestured, pointing to a shaft of light going up into the heavens.
Jorian paused. It had been a long time since he had seen such a pillar of light. His face scrunched into a frown.
“What is it, General?” Sarannya asked.
“It’s a message. It lets the Fallen know that Marpesia is still free. It will draw them there. My wife is trying to give us a bit more time. The enemy will think that I am there, and they will attack more ferociously than before.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Markos looked up into the sky, seeing the column of white light. A chill went through his body, and in a gesture that he had not done in a long time, he reached up and rubbed his horns with nervous energy. The General was in Marpesia. He sighed in relief.
“Damn. I need to get myself under control,” he muttered to himself, turning back towards Bosc City and raising his spyglass. They were passing through the mountains. It would only be another two days, and they would be at the walls.
His scouts had already told him the walls had been mostly rebuilt by the populace, but they would be easy to bring down. As soon as he was close, he would release the demons from their hive, and crush Bosc City from two directions.
Markos stopped in his thoughts, and brought his spyglass around, staring at a large plume of black smoke wafting up from what used to be the Red Lantern district. The smoke looked like it was coming from where the demon hive was located. He had a moment of trepidation.
“They found the hive?” He frowned. What was really troubling was how had they burned it out. “Demons are immune to fire.” He shook his head then stopped, realization darkening his face.
The Tracian Knights were here in Bosc City. They were waiting for him. They had been waiting for Aiden’s army, as well. He must contact his master and find out what he wanted him to do, before he committed the third and fifth armies to a conflict that could lead to their destruction.
“Colonel! Bring me General Bopha. I need her here immediately.
Aiden knelt in the darkness with his head bowed. The projection stone cast Aviel’s image above the young emperor. The displeasure on his face was evident as he stared down at the boy before him.
“I trusted you to get this done. You were to kill your brother and father, which you failed to do. You were supposed to acquire the Throne of Light, which you failed. Your uncle tipped his hand and alerted our enemy to what we were looking for, and the Forges remain in enemy hands, and unfound. And now, you are telling me the Immortal Warrior, the Great General, himself, is in Marpesia.” Aviel’s voice was soft, but commanding. There was a sharp edge to his tone that always made him sound like he was angry or being sarcastic.
“No master. I saw a golden warrior. A warrior wearing golden armor. I was under the impression the General did not wear golden armor. I fear that this could be another Tracian Knight, but whoever it was sent up a column of light that was seen in Bosc City; I am sure.” Aiden kept his head bowed and his eyes on the ground before him. He could feel the anger and frustration coming from his master.
“Damned be God. He made that insufferable man. He is more a demon than a man, and he has no regard for humans. He shall prove himself incapable of actually leading them. Jorian Tal never wore gold armor. In fact, he never wore armor at all. He was good enough that he never needed it. Even against the Darkness itself. He was a singular force, and my hope is that the years among the humans has worn him down. That he has become one of them. He has taken on their weaknesses.” Aviel brought his hand up and raked his hair with his fingers. He was deep in thought.
“And if not? If he has not become weak, or like us humans, Aiden asked quietly.
“Then we are in for a war the the likes of which has never been seen. Azarai isn’t here to temper him, to reign him in. I want you to remain at the mouth of the pass. Don’t attack. Don’t do anything, without checking with myself or with Cardinal Tonis.” Aviel paused for a moment. “I must contact General Markos. He must know that he might be facing the General, and that we have mostly confirmed the Tracian Knights still live.” With that, he was gone, and the projection stone went dark.
Aiden looked up at the stone. This was turning into something completely different from what he had been promised. Could his father have been right in his last words to him? Also, he absolutely hated it when the common form was used in his presence. He took in a deep breath to settle himself, before leaving the tent to issue the orders.
Markos Penvel knelt on one knee with his fist on the ground. Aviel stood from the projection stone. He was wearing dark armor, and two swords were tied to his hip. It looked like he was preparing for war.
“The time is upon us, General. The gate will open for us soon. The first army is ready, and will be there shortly.”
“That is good news, master, but I fear that our great enemy is here with us. This war shall be a costly one.” Markos looked up, his horns gleaming gold in the light from the stone.
“General Penvel, you have been with me from almost the very beginning. I have the utmost faith in you, and yes, the General is there. Our young emperor informed me of a golden warrior that defeated many of his troops in Marpesia pass, and sent up the signal. Do you recall who this golden warrior could be?”
“You are sure that Aiden said gold armor?” Markos questioned, a chill entering his voice.
“Of course I am.” Aviel kept himself in check. He hated being questioned, but the time in the dark had tempered him.
Markos closed his eyes when he spoke, his head lowered in defeat. “That would be the General’s wife: Lady Analia Tal. I am sure that you remember her. She brought great destruction upon us, with Katerina Tatara.” Markos shook his head in disbelief. “I almost had Zorian cornered, but Lady Tal intervened and saved her.” He turned his head and showed Aviel the nick in his right horn. “She gave me this.”
“Then, with great caution we must move. If Lady Tal is in Marpesia, then we must conclude that the General is in Bosc City.” Aviel’s voice had an edge to it. “The Forges must be in Bosc City, or he would not be there. You must take that city. We must capture the Forges to end this war, and to place ourselves in a position of power. If we are to create blades that can rival the Rimerians, we must capture them.” Aviel had turned and begun pacing.
Aviel stopped and looked at his number two and most senior general. “General, you, I cannot replace. Under all circumstances, you must survive, even if it means sacrificing your army. You must live. For us, this is the end. Darkenings have been set into the cycle of creation, but our involvement in them will cease with this cycle. We shall either be victorious, or we shall be consumed and destroyed by the light.”
Markos bowed deeply. “I understand perfectly, master.”
“What do you mean, you have to leave! The enemy will be here in two days!” Kiril exclaimed. He was pacing back and forth in Masamiria’s forge.
“I must go. There is one more thing that must be done before we can begin to rebuild the Tracian Knights and fight this war with any real odds of success,” Jorian stated calmly. He was hoping to be able to get there and back before the walls fell, but by the strands, he knew that he would most likely fail in this endeavor. Only in one of the strands was he actually successful. Although, he had called to the light and stepped back from the decision, and this still felt like the right choice.
“I shall be leaving for the docks at the end of the peninsula. Niparian ships are there. They have been transporting the refugees to Courtesan Bay. From there, Masamiria and I have set up a means to get them to the Citadel, and the valley in the Marpesian Protectorate.”
Masamiria sat quietly. He knew the kids were not going to like this, but it was the only way they could hold the protectorate indefinitely. He smiled to himself. Without Sarannya, he would not have even thought about it.
“You should take Sarannya with you,” Masamiria interjected. He noticed that she did not even flinch. It had been a tough day for her, and she was still reeling from the demon hive. He was thinking that a break would do her some good. He was concerned this would be too much for her, and she would break. He had seen it before among the newer Immortals in the War of Light. They would sit in depression, some would drool from the mouth, and others had to be watched, because they would try and kill themselves. Only some recovered, and he did not want that for Sarannya. He had to admit, the girl was starting to grow on him, and she was good for his friend.
Jorian shook his head. “I cannot. She must remain here and help Kiril in the battle.”
“Did you see it? Have you looked at the strands?” Sarannya asked in an almost lifeless voice. She was exhausted and introspective. She felt like her dream of being a warrior was not much of a dream. Be careful what you wish for. At least this way, she was an active participant. This was much better than sitting at home and waiting for the enemy to arrive.
Kiril stopped pacing and looked at Jorian. Masamiria’s eyebrows went up.
“What is she talking about?” Masamiria asked. He had only come across that word a couple of times in relationship to seeing the future.
Jorian smirked at his old friend and Kiril. “It is possible that I am figuring out the Eighth Essence. Zorian wrote about it and left markers in the library, and Azarai comments on it, as well. He left some writings about it that have survived. The Light Saints could be real.” He paused. “That’s all I can say right now.”
Masamiria’s eyebrows rose, and there was a slight smile on his face. Placing him as a catalyst was paying off.
“How do the strands fit in?” Kiril asked. “You didn’t really answer Masamiria’s question.”
“The strands are actually called life strands. They allow us to see the possibilites that surround us, and all we come into contact with. I have also found that it even allows us to see our connections, and possible connections, to inanimate objects. We must be very careful with this, and be very vigilant as we move forward with this, as it could be used for very great evil, and it could destroy the one who thinks they know it all by being able to see all of the possibilities.”
Everyone sat in silence, absorbing what was said. Only the crackling of the fire in the forge and the rumble of wagons and horses outside intruded upon their individual thoughts.
