“BRAVE LITTLE TROUPE, YOU SHOULD HAVE ESCAPED THE ORDO OF THE KING WHEN YOU STILL HAD YOUR CHANCE.”
Mahanai.
The thought struck Elwin’s mind in his dream-limbo, looking out of Ahura’s eyes. The creature had the same soul-stench as the centipede Mora in that city under the earth. But here, the stench was something that Elwin – through Ahura – could feel with his bones. The aura of the titanic lycanthrope was fresher and more acrid, beating fiercely and wildly like a creature at the zenith of its living power. There was less the odor of ancience, and rather the scent of something that had newly emerged into the world, like the sting of strong vinegar.
Upon the words of ‘King’, Elwin felt Ahura’s mind flare up in anger.
“Your King?” Ahura shouted, “Your King?! What King orders such carnage of life? We recognize no tyrant, and certainly not one who allows his subordinates to prey on children!”
The titanic lycan slowly gnashed its teeth, grinding the corpses in its mouth and splattering their remains into the burning ruins below.
Ahura clenched his teeth, and so did Kaniya, stepping forward. Kiriel pulled Cyrus’s lifeless body closer to her, and so did Mithra for Hora, relaxing her nerves for she was frozen with fear. He covered her eyes. Chatterbox and Cantor listened on.
Ahura swept the air down with his arm, declaring his order for the creature to hear.
“Tell your master this. He is to withdraw his wanton assault and leave these lands. He is to never return, lest the might of the real Kings draw their Quan and sword.”
The giant lycan answered, raising his arms into the blackened sky and welcoming its descending ash like a prayer.
“MY MASTER IS NO MERE KING – HE IS THE KING OF KINGS, THE KING OF ALL DIVINITIES, AN INFINITE BEING AS LIMITLESS AS THAT ETERNAL VOID WHERE THE STARS EVENTUALLY MEET THEIR REST AND THE NURSERY FROM WHICH THEY SPRING. AGAINST HIM, THERE CAN BE NO VICTORY."
“Chatterbox, link us,” Ahura asked.
Chatterbox spoke through to them in their minds, slowing the perceived time so they could talk several minutes worth of words in mere seconds.
“Opening channel. Awaiting your talk, friends.”
“Kiriel, status?” Ahura relayed to Kiriel, his thoughts syncing instantly with Kiriel’s and with everyone else’s.
“Still need time,” she wordlessly replied, having taken Hora from Mithra’s embrace. She was putting Hora to sleep, but could not easily calm the little girl’s bewildered heart.
“Chatterbox, how far out are the refugees?”
“Calculating… calculated. 11.3 miles.”
“Eleven miles…” Ahura pondered, as the lycanthrope concluded its prayer and set its gaze upon them again.
Kaniya immediately spoke through. “That’s scarcely enough. Most lands west of here until the Millennium Gates are exposed hill and plain. This thing closed a thousand yards of distance in less than a dozen seconds. Eleven miles would be a child’s play for this creature to reach them and slaughter them with abandon.”
Mithra relayed to the others. “How fast are the refugees fleeing?”
“6 miles per hour. Speed insufficient to escape this wolf-man-creature.”
They needed to kill this creature, wherever it came from.
Ahura crystallized his resolve. “Here’s what I will do – I will try to extract as much information as possible from this thing, and what his false King wants. If we can talk it down, we should, and hopefully send it back to wherever it came from. If we can’t, we vanquish it within the confines of this city so that the refugees have a chance to make the turn past the Millennium Gates.”
“The creature is likely impervious to our logic, Ahura-friend-commander.”
“Still worth a try,” Ahura replied, setting his gaze onto the lycanthrope again, as the flow of time in his perception returned to normalcy. All their talk had taken less than three seconds.
The Lycan pointed its long claws toward them. “HEATHENS OF THIS BLEMISHED EARTH, I GIVE YOU THE OPPORTUNITY TO BOW BEFORE THE INFINITE KING: BY DELIVERING YOU TO YOUR RIGHTFUL DEATH.”
“Infinite? King of Kings? You throw around words of import with such levity that I laugh at your pretense!” Ahura exclaimed, returning an accusatory finger and sweeping his arm away. “There are no Kings of the present who can boast that crown. That crown has been worn by the Emperor of Yanasura in a bygone millennium. His conquests tore through the world and murdered its peace, destroying even the magnificent creations of his own hands. We suffered, all humankind and Aeterii, where without his final war we as one could have forged a brave new paradise. So tell your ‘King’ this: what he seeks has already been done. The world shall only remember him as another conqueror and tyrant, as the author of a litany of blood on an endless tapestry of lies.”
The lycan let out a guttural laughter that drummed the air and rolled through their bodies. “JUST AS MY KING SPAKE, THAT LESSER BEINGS WOULD SEEK TO COMPARE HIM TO THE FAILED EMPEROR OF YORE! HEAR MY KING’S WISDOM: HE HAS OFFERED HIS VERDICT ON THAT FAILURE OF A REGENT, ‘YANASURA’. THAT REGENT NEVER ONCE WORE THE CROWN OF THE KING OF KINGS – FOR HE FAILED TO UNFOLD HIS VISION UPON THE WORLD, A WORLD WHERE THE AETERII DO NOT EXIST. FOR HIS WILD AMBITION AND FAILURE TO MEET ITS DEMAND, TO FAIL IN CLEANSING THE WORLD ACCORDING TO HIS DREAM, HE WAS AND CONTINUES TO BE JUSTLY PUNISHED BY THE TAPESTRY OF TIME. HOW YANASURA’S SPIRIT MUST FLAIL IN SHAME FROM THE BOWELS OF THE EARTH, FOR EVEN THE DESCENDANTS OF HIS BELOVED SUBJECTS SPEAK ILL OF HIS NAME. THAT IS NO TRUE KING; HE IS NOT EVEN WORTHY OF BEING A SLAVE, FOR ILL MEMORY IS INFERIOR TO MERE OBLIVION.”
A primal anger rose up from Ahura and Mithra at hearing the slander of the Emperor’s name, even though they knew that he was to blame for the near-oblivion of humankind. Perhaps it was the spirit of their ancestor Maitreya stirring in their heart, who was the Last Knight of the Emperor some eight centuries ago.
The lycan proclaimed, its roaring voice quaking the ground and raising fires.
“UNLIKE YOUR FALSE KING, MY KING MAKES NO SUCH MISTAKES. HE HAS PIERCED THROUGH THE TRUTH BEHIND ALL EXISTENCE, ALL WORLDS; HE DOES NOT FALTER. AND CONQUER HE WILL TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH, TO THE LAST OCEAN AND GRAIN OF SAND, UNTIL ALL LIFE BEARING SIN SHALL BE CLEANSED AND RETURNED TO DUST. AND FROM THE ASHES OF THEIR ATOMS SHALL RISE A NEW WORLD, NEW LIFE, FREE OF TARNISH. AND WE SHALL HAVE EVERLASTING PARADISE.”
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“I give you the last chance for you to return to your king and exhort these words,” declared Ahura, amplifying his voice to match that of the Lycan’s. “The crooked vision he has for this world shall never come to pass. We shall rally against him and vanquish him to dust where he stands.”
“EXHORT THOSE WORDS YOURSELF, PUNY HUMAN AND HIS MISMATCHED ILK. I DO NOT BRING YOUR FAITHLESS AND FEEBLE FALTERINGS TO MY KING; RATHER HIS HOLY WILL TO ENLIGHTEN YOUR PITIFUL SOULS STARVED OF THE INEXORABLE TRUTH. FOR I AM AZERATH, ORDO OF TRUTH, HERALD OF THE KING, HIS THIRD HARBINGER.”
Kaniya huffed sarcastically, though the rest were much less enthused. The waves of inimical pressure from this gigantic creature that called itself ‘Azerath’ matched the aura of only a very few enemies they’d fought up to that point. It was like an invisible force was pushing against every inch of their skin, drumming with a heartbeat that was too deep for the ear to hear.
Chatterbox spoke through to them in their minds again. “Do we continue negotiation, Ahura-friend-commander?”
“It’s shown the might of its faith,” relayed Kaniya to everyone else. “The only thing left for us to do is to show it the might of ours.”
“What about the other Kings of the Aeterii? Can they not vanquish this demon?” Mithra asked.
“If they’ve even survived,” Kiriel answered hurriedly. “All kingdoms to the east would have fallen by now. If this creature is merely its vanguard, I cannot fathom what the main force of this King would be.”
Cantor added. “I wanna test my new spell, if ya don’t mind. I’ve been waiting so long for some big, fleshy targets to use it on. This thing is just the perfect size for it. C’mon, Ahura, let’s go at this thing right now. I don’t wanna miss this chance!”
“Cantor-friend, this is not an experiment.”
“Everything is an experiment if ya write it down somewhere. I will write this down somewhere, ya bet.”
“Then it is decided. We shall fight it here, and win,” Ahura commanded into their minds. “Kiriel, take Hora and Cyrus and pass into the shadows when the battle begins. Revive Cyrus, catch up to the refugees, and place them in their care. Return at once. This battle will either last a few seconds, or an hour. If it lasts an hour, we will need your aid.”
“Understood,” answered Kiriel, drawing a circle of blood upon her palms.
“Chatterbox, analysis on that thing.”
“No bone or muscle structure detected. No weak joints or deficiencies detected. Regenerative capacity so far unknown. Assume regenerative ability equal to or greater than wolf demon. However, central chest cavity shows inverted energy source, similar to -- ‘heart’. Another present in the head, another in the left leg. Inferring from prior pattern of similar creatures in its class, must likely destroy all three hearts for victory.”
All three hearts. It wasn’t just the head, or just a single heart they had to destroy. Kaniya tightened the grip on the handle of her poleaxe.
It was going to be a tough challenge. Elwin saw in Ahura’s mind that he didn’t want any of them to get injured further, and fighting a creature of such agility and strength – let alone its size – was not part of their continental rescue plan. This titanic, lithe lycan that proclaimed itself as Azerath probably matched the best and greatest of demons they had fought in their illustrious sojourns throughout the continent – the pinnacles of monsters that they encountered in their hunt for the secrets of the ancient world and in keeping the peace of the lands where they roamed. Each battle against such lords of monsters always left them with near-grievous injuries which took months to heal. Worse yet, they still had thousands of miles they needed to traverse after this battle, and lead the confluence of refugees to safety under a mountain in a faraway land. But now was not the time to falter. Now was the time to act.
“A sound breakdown. Here’s the plan: Chatterbox, continue linking us up. Everyone, we engage the titanbreaker pattern. Kaniya, you are our mountain. Cantor, our cannon. Mithra and I, our shield and spear. Chatterbox, our bastion and coordinate. Kiriel, our assassin and rescue when you return. We will destroy all three of its hearts and send this foul creature back to the abyss where it belongs. Let’s carve into its arrogant airs why WE are called the VICTORY ROAR!”
“HOORAH!” They cheered with mighty voices in sync with one another.
“Hooo yeah!” relayed Cantor, massaging his head. “Feels good to finally flex my brain against this hyena imbecile.”
“Semantics, Cantor-friend.”
“Still a canid, no? Still going to run away with its tail between its legs.”
“Negative, but one concurs it would be a humorous sight to see.”
“Ready your battle stances!” Ahura commanded to all of his compatriots, as time in their minds began to flow normally again.
“RUDRA, lend me your power once more,” ordered Kaniya, as the axeblade burst into radiant light in a prismatic display of colors, rocking up a frosty gale hewing their hair.
Cantor took out several potions, each colored a brilliant shade, and gulped them down. “Oh, that hits the spot. Hmm, rurururururu, rerererererer, murururururur, bleargh. My tongue is ready to rhythm the truth so abso-freaking-lutely that this Ordo-of-truth wouldn’t dare crawl out of the abyss for ten thousand years.”
The air in front of them all vibrated minutely as Chatterbox descended invisible shields to protect his friends. “Barriers active. Link complete and ready. Good luck to ourselves, friends.”
Kiriel had finished her circle of blood on her palm. All she needed to do was to activate it by clapping her hands together, and pass into the shadows.
Ahura and Mithra unfolded the inner layers of their robe and each took out a glimmering Quan: for Mithra, a crimson Quan which he fastened onto his right forearm, and for Ahura, a turquoise Quan in the shape of a long shin-guard that he secured onto the fabric covering his right leg.
“SUNNA of daybreak,” Mithra spoke, “and ARTAIA of the stars,” Ahura added, “we beseech thy powers once more.”
They each pricked their skin with a pin of frost, dipped the tip into drops of their blood, and let it fall upon the disk of their Quans.
A deep rumbling of the smoky skies and fire emanated around them, and there seemed to rise an ancient chant which they scarcely understood. The lycan creature turned its head up in amusement, the corners of its long mouth twisting up in a mocking grin. It cackled, heaving its chest in racking laughter. “AND THUS DO THE FALSE IDOLS DESCEND, WRIGGLING AGAINST FATE! HOW THE TRUTH OF MY KING SHALL DISPEL THEIR LIES!”
Ahura and Mithra paid it no notice. “Seek us, hear us, O great SUNNA, liberator of humankind from the tyranny of the wilds, and O great ARTAIA, breaker of chains and salvator of all Dhanya. We call your name and your souls, watching from the weaves; we ladle our prayers with the will to protect everything we hold dear. To all those who watch and to all those who witness, we shout to thee:
MAIOR FORTIOR!”
The two brothers proclaimed to the awaiting world as brilliant crosses of light rent the disks and divided the ash-laden sky, vibrating and rumbling the palatial steps where they stood. From their rays emerged the hues of brilliant red, purple, green, and cyan, their luminosity puncturing the darkness of the ashclouds above.
“Time to switch gears,” Mithra declared, locking his arms and lowering into a battle stance where his body was closer towards the ground. Flaming wings sprouted from the back of his burgundy robes, spikes of torching flame issuing below his fists. “Dance of the Kalpa Flame, may your strikes meet true.”
Ahura loosened the folds of robes by his shoulder and neck, inhaling deeply. “My muse Maitreya, Last Knight of Yanasura, guide my words for the song second only to that of MAHA ARTAIA’s creation: The Song of the Titanbreakers!
Avalokiteshvara Mayadhanya,
Maiye thraoshte vayanh,
Maiye thraoshte avantiye,
Haopt AYU MAHANIERE!”
His voice and words seemed to vibrate and caress the atmosphere with great invisible palms, and formed a mass of air above and behind him as mighty as a mountain.
“Demon Azerath, harbinger of a false king, WE REJECT YOUR TRUTH.”
The lycan-creature opened its arms as if to embrace the sky.
“THEN TO DUST YOU SHALL RETURN.”