Stars' Light, page 48
Kiril sat down, exhausted. He smiled to himself as the last of his light seeped into Masamiria, who shook his head and frowned at him. “We still need you,” he told the old blacksmith, before laying down and closing his eyes. He was so tired.
Sarannya moved about the last of their army, alleviating people’s fatigue and taking away their pain with the last of her light. She also was very tired, and when she finished, she went and sat down next to where Kiril lay. Her eyes slowly faded back to her usual grey.
Masamiria was sitting up, watching her. “And now we wait. They will eventually break through, but it will take time.” He paused, looking at the dome around them, feeling the rock that was also underneath them. “They will also be cautious after what just happened.”
Markos turned away as the light rings pulsed out, destroying every Fallen it came into contact with. The entire center of his two armies was gone. Nothing but sifting ash remained. He watched in rage as his men ran in fear and a giant rock dome rose out of the ground to encase the remaining enemy.
“Tear it down!” he ordered, using the Essences, his voice booming out over the pass. He could see the hesitancy in his men. “They will not have any light left. Tear it down and kill them. Kill them all!”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Jorian felt the release of light pulse out. He could not see the coast yet, but he knew they were fast approaching it. The wind pulled at his face and his cloak. He consulted the strands again, noting how they had changed from the last time, and how they were changing even now. This would be a critical moment. If he picked wrong, they would all die; if he picked right, only some of them would die. No matter how he looked at it, if Sarannya died, Kiril would live; if Kiril died, Sarannya would live. All were based on his choices.
Jorian was conflicted, until he took control of his thoughts and emotions. “I shall not choose, but allow the light to choose. I will follow it. It does not follow me.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, waiting to see how this was going to lay out. He could feel the light building inside him. He could feel his Well filling to a capacity that it never had before. It almost felt like he had a Well that could not be depleted.
Sarannya and Kiril braced for combat as the rock dome cracked in front of them, and they could hear swords and Essences crashing against the rock, trying to pry open a hole. More and more rock fell away, until suddenly a whole section gave away. Danica and Klara released arrows.
Kiril and Sarannya brought their War Blades up and attacked, switching off, killing everyone that came through the hole. Each of them knew that it was only a small amount of time, and there would be many more holes. Too many to defend against, and then it would be over.
Markos nodded in satisfaction, watching as the rock gave away and holes started to appear. His men were dying, trying to get inside, but eventually, there would be too many holes for his enemy to defend against. For a moment, he paused. He admired the spy’s abilities and his strategy. The young ones had fought well. Worthy of the Tracian Knights. “They would have made goods knights,” he whispered to himself in reluctant admiration.
“General?”
Markos put his looking glass down, speaking. “It was nothing, Lieut…” His eyes caught something in the distance. A flash of gold. Old fear and dread settled in his stomach, a feeling he had not felt since the days of the War of Light. He took a step forward, raising his looking glass with stilted movements. Panic burst through him in a wave as his greatest fear was realized. He did not know what to do as old terror and dread froze him in place.
He had to act. If he waited too long, his army would be destroyed. But he had a chance here and now to kill three wielders of War Blades. Indecision warred within him as dread moved closer on golden wings.
Jorian looked down to see the docks flash by. He could see the mass of the enemy surging against the rock dome farther up the meadow towards the pass. A hurt settled inside him. He patted Syrreth on the neck. “You must protect Sarannya at all costs. She will be an empress someday, and she is one of us.” He really wanted to be the one to drop in and to protect her, to fulfill the promise that he made to her in a personal way, but that was not how it was supposed to go. He had thought of a different path; a path not originally shown in the strands, and then it had appeared as he had begun to think of it. It took shape and strengthened when he started to take action.
Syrreth looked back at Jorian, about to argue, but thought better of it. “What of the boy?” he asked, noticing Jorian’s eyes had gone silver. A hue of light was gathering around him in a blinding nimbus. This was something Syrreth had never seen before, not in all his long years.
Jorian shook his head. “I don’t know, but I shall become what I was supposed to be a long time ago, and maybe that will be enough to save them both.”
Dragons descended onto the army of the Fallen with a vengeance. Bodies were torn apart and plumes of smoke rose into the air as dragon fire erupted on the field of battle. Syrreth flew over the dome at Jorian’s command.
“Good luck, old friend. I shall meet you in the middle. You know what to do.” Jorian crouched in the saddle, bringing his feet underneath him. He gathered a last pull of light, and then he jumped.
“They are behind us,” Masamiria yelled out, too tired to use anymore light. Light’s Truth hummed about him as he cut down the Fallen trying to push their way into the interior of the dome.
Kiril did not waste time responding. He stepped in front of Sarannya, cutting her off and forcing her back. He knocked two arrows from the air with Wrath. Two arrows that would have struck her.
Sarannya turned towards Kiril, cutting down another the of the enemy coming through the break. “How are you doing that? How are you staying so connected?”
“Pull just a little light from your blades. It will keep you connected to everything around you. Don’t pull anymore than just enough; otherwise, you will pull too much and burnout will begin. You don’t want light sickness.”
Sarannya laughed, her eyes going silver once again. “Since we are pretty much dead, what is a little light sickness?”
“We aren’t dead yet,” Kiril said through gritted teeth, knocking more arrows from the air with Wrath. He stepped aside as War Bringer and Retribution cut past him to intercept enemy blades. The Fallen had pushed their way in. The dome cracked around them. Large pieces fell away. Holes began appearing everywhere. Large sections of the walls and ceiling crumbled and gave way.
“Not long now,” Sarannya whispered to herself, but she knew that Kiril had heard her as they went back to back.
The very air began to vibrate. An eerie wail reverberated throughout the meadow and up the pass. Sarannya’s heart beat fast in excitement, the hair on her arms and neck standing on end. There was charge to the air.
The sun glinted off gold in the sky, and a huge shape passed overhead, darkening everything around them for a moment. And then it was past them and dragon wings followed in a myriad of color and movement. Explosions of fire, claws, and tails slammed into the enemy.
The ground trembled beneath Sarannya’s feet, the wind buffeting her with bits of dust and the heat from the dragon flame as entire swathes of the Fallen army descended into chaos and destruction. Sarannya was speechless, all thought disappearing as she stared at the carnage. She was bounced out of her shock as Kiril knocked into her.
Syrreth watched in awe as Jorian arced through the air. It was like a second sun was in the sky, and falling towards the ground to eradicate the shadows that scattered like vermin before an apex predator.
He turned his attention back to the battle below him. The dome was coming apart, but allies were inside, so he could not just decimate it with fire and destruction. He extended his claws and plummeted. He hoped they had enough light to protect themselves from falling debris. He honed in on an essence that he recognized. An essence that he had briefly come into contact with a long time ago.
“Go to her, my friend. She needs you. Protect her as my Mirogen asked,” Zorian whispered to her bonded.
Syrreth crashed through what was left of the dome ceiling and then extended his wings, which cut into and destroyed the remaining walls. He landed with power, crushing dozens of the enemy in his claws. He swept his tail out, destroying the back part of the dome, and the last of it fell away.
The Fallen were swept aside, smashed and broken. He brought his wings in and protected the small group that was under his large chest. He could hear sobbing, and a woman’s voice saying, “No, no, no…” over and over again. He looked down to see the boy and Masamiria on the ground.
Jorian arced through the air. He commanded it to grab him, to carry him, so he could land in the middle of the surging mass of Fallen. He could feel everything around him. He could feel the dome break apart; he could feel Kiril protect Sarannya with his own body as he went down; he felt Masamiria fall soon after. He felt Syrreth touch down. Jorian knew what the dragon’s decision would be. A decision that would put him back into the affairs of humans and Immortals. Something he had sworn off, after Zorian.
He landed gracefully, a sonic boom erupting around him, scattering and destroying anything close by. Light Bringer and Shadow burned white, blades of pure light. Jorian’s eyes bled from silver to pure radiance.
“Lay your weapons down and surrender. You will be spared, with an option for redemption and a transformation back into the light.” Jorian’s voice shook the ground and rattled the rocks in the pass.
The Fallen were paralyzed. They did not know what to do. Shadows began to gather around them and push them into action. The air darkened all around them, with only Jorian being the centerpoint of light.
Jorian frowned. “You need not live in shadow and twilight forever. There is a way back for you. All you need to do is accept the hand being offered.”
The Fallen attacked.
“No, no, no.” Sarannya held her hands over the wounds in Kiril’s side. Too much blood pumped out too fast, soaking into the dirt and grass. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to stop the bleeding. She tried to gather light, but none would come. She cried out in frustration, and then a large shadow dropped on top of her, scattering and destroying the enemy that was closing in for the final kill.
She looked up at black-tipped gold scales. She had seen them before. She focused on the great dragon above her. “Save them. I know you can. You were Zorian’s dragon. Syrreth is your name. She is gone, but I need you. Save them! For me.” Her voice rang with command, though she was only a young girl.
Syrreth saw the flash in her grey eyes. The same grey eyes as Zorian’s. This was more than protection. It would involve him in the war; a war he said he would never fight again. He snaked his head down to her, and to his surprise, she did not flinch away. Her whole body was full of command. He was startled to feel compelled to do as she asked as if they were bonded.
“Save them!” She yelled the words with force and power, her eyes shining with the brillance of a Tracian Knight.
Jorian unfettered himself. He kept the images of the mosaic in the Palace of Light in his mind. He did not want anymore embarrassments. He cut himself away from those past mistakes, and the decisions that led to those choices. Light Bringer and Shadow moved in his hands as if they were a part of him; a living extension of his body and his will. The very Essences carried him into the enemy and through the enemy. Nothing stood in his path. Nothing lived that got within Light Bringer’s or Shadow’s reach. Whole units were dissolved in the light of his blades, and in the aura of light around him, where the Essences protected him with the powers of creation.
Markos watched the wholesale destruction of his armies. The dragons destroyed anything close to the dome, and he slowly drew his swords, knowing the General was coming for him. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. It was raw destruction on a scale that could only be compared to the eruption of a volcano.
This was what it must have looked like when the One made everything from a great explosion of light in the very beginning. Markos stood his ground when in only a few moments, his army was destroyed. He watched with resigned calm as the General slowly walked towards him. The few Fallen that stood between him and his enemy were put down with mere flicks of his blades. The General floated around his Fallen as if they were nothing, carried by the wind, crackling with the energy of fire, and the fluidity of water, with the strength of the earth; all bound together by the power of the General’s spirit.
Jorian walked up to Markos Penvel. First general for the Fallen army. He would end this and cripple Aviel right from the beginning. He walked right into sword range. Markos’s swords moved quickly, enhanced by his use of the Essences, but he was almost moving in slow motion to Jorian. Everything was laid out before him as the strands whispered what was about to happen in the myriad of potentials.
He followed the light, as he had from the beginning of this battle. It would place him in the right spot at the right time, so he moved with the currents of the light which made up the Essences. Markos’s shadow disappeared and his abilities faded before a brighter experience.
Jorian pressed forward, catching Markos’s long blade with Shadow and flicking it out wide. Markos tried to recover, but he brought Light Bringer down, shattering Markos’s longsword. Jorian floated laterally, and slightly to the outside of Markos’s second cut with his smaller blade, but it was like fighting an untrained warrior. He did not really have to work hard. It had only lasted this long because he was being slightly cautious, and he wanted Markos to feel the utter futility of standing against the one and only General.
Markos gasped as his short blade missed, and he stumbled, knowing that this was his end.
Jorian flowed into his final cut, but his sword stopped just short of Markos’s neck. There was a moment of silence that settled between them. Markos was straining to not fall onto the blade of his enemy. His legs began to shake.
No. He lives to tell your story to others. It is important that you not fight their war for them. Remember, you must train the humans to become the secret weapon. They must learn.
“You will live, Markos Penvel. You will carry this tale to your master, and you will let him know that the Light Bringer has returned. Tell him that if he wishes to end this; if he wishes to save himself and his Fallen from actual destruction, he must take the offer I originally gave him all those years ago at the end of the War of Light. The civil war of our kind, will end this time.”
Jorian sheathed both swords in a single movement. Markos fell forward onto his knees, his neck burned and blistered from the light streaming off Light Bringer. Markos looked up and watched as the air began to take hold of Jorian.
In a gust of wind, Jorian was gone, soaring back to where his dragons had landed to protect what was left of the army of Bosc City, and his two young Tracian Knights.
Jorian landed not far from the rubble of the dome and Syrreth. There was hesitancy in his heart as he walked towards the few who were left. He could see Lubos folding the arms of Klara and Danica over their chests. Sarannya’s entire unit had been killed. He frowned at that. It was going to be difficult for her.
Jorian entered the rubble to see Masamiria leaning up against some rock. His old friend smiled, and said, “I knew you would make it. I also knew you would be able to get the dragons.”
Jorian nodded, and he turned to see Sarannya leaning over Kiril, who spoke to her and pointed at Jorian. She turned and made eye contact with him. She had obviously been crying, Kiril’s hand urged her to go, but she stayed there on the ground. Tears started to fall again.
“This is not what I wanted,” she said as she gestured to all the dead.
“I know.”
“This is why you showed me those images in your office, wasn’t it?”
“It was.”
Sarannya stood. She was angry and exhilarated all at the same time. Angry that he had left in the first place, but exhilarated that he had come back exactly as he had said. She felt the connection between them. “You know the truth about what is happening with me, don’t you?”
“I do. And, I want you to know this, so she will know. For you, and for that inner core of you that you haven’t uncovered yet; I did come back as I promised. I did not abandon you as you thought, and I will teach you properly, as I should have before. Not in some ancient and rotting city, or in the woods and on the road, but in Tracia, where I should have taken you in the first place, along with Kiril.” There was a pause between them. An unspoken question that hung heavy in the air.
Sarannya stood motionless, taking it all in. She no longer felt the core of anger that had been trying to explode inside her. She was too worn out to be angry. A smile lit her face. “Fucking right you are going to train me.” And then she laughed.
Jorian smiled gently at her, wondering how much of Ilenka was going to continue to come out. “It is time to go home and rest.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Analia stood at the edge of a large flat spot near the top of the pass, above hers and Jorian’s house. She stood on the edge of the dragon landing. Snow covered most of the ground, but she did not feel the cold. She was in anticipation, knowing that her husband was coming home. He would come by dragon back. It was late afternoon, and she had put her army on alert, as the enemy had been organizing for a large push, but then stopped suddenly. It almost appeared that they were packing up their camp and leaving.
After having repelled a small force that was trying to flank around, Bran Tatara was now healed up, over his light sickness, and put in charge of the main force overlooking the primary entryway into the pass. She smiled to herself. It appeared that her husband was becoming what he was always meant to be. Her gambit with Azarai might have paid off.
