Chapter 15
The Ethereal
“What in the hell did you ever think you were doing, Floyd?!” Terrill couldn’t remember the last time shook with such rage towards anyone that wasn’t Atrum or the Fiends. That moment, however, was a great exception. The redhead was lying on a stone shelf he’d created, clasping to a soaked Torry, but that was the least of his concerns. “Why did you come here?”
“I wanted to-” Floyd attempted to get out, but Terrill’s snarl stopped him.
“I don’t care. Torry, can you move?” Despite all appearances, she managed to nod, and Terrill’s brain finished catching up to where he and Krysta found themselves. So, too, did Prince Ricardo, the monarch and his contingent of soldiers arriving near the created chasm to stare down into the trench.
“What in Crea’s world is this?!” he said, shaking from head to toe. The shock of it was palpable, and Terrill didn’t blame him; seeing a row of cells with detained prisoners in a place they shouldn’t have been would surprise anyone. At the same time, Terrill realized it was too obvious, a fact Floyd had failed to realize. Perhaps not at that moment, but Warren wanted this place to be found. Terrill held his sword on the general and the pitch-dark knight that Krysta had jettisoned below. Ricardo recovered in that time. “General, speak! What is this? What do you know?”
Warren was analyzing the evolved situation, taking stock of each of the players that had arrived at the trench. Terrill was certain he was trying to find a way to talk his way out of this situation. Some of Ricardo’s soldiers fanned out, preparing to enter the trench and free the prisoners below, but that was something Warren could not have.
“It’s a trap, Your Highness,” he said, and Terrill could tell what a silver tongue this man had. Or Fiend. Or even a forked tongue. Terrill didn’t really care. He just knew Warren was the threat. “Don’t you see? This is a trench used for overflow.”
“It is certainly not one I’ve sanctioned, general. Explain yourself!” Warren never lost his composure despite the prince’s screaming, an act that put Terrill further on edge. The Phantom Knight began to stand from behind Warren, eliciting gasps from the soldiers that backed up. His reputation preceded him, and the general took full advantage of that.
“Nor have I, Your Highness. I was merely out on patrol when I discovered this place, not recorded,” the general said, turning his gaze upon his liege. His lidded eyes presented his disdain with nary a word. “I came to examine it and find what you see before you here now: numerous dignitaries kidnapped in the name of Invaria. It is doubtless a hiding ground for the Phantom Knight here. It would seem some soldiers have turned to ally themselves with him and keep this area hidden. Even you didn’t know about it.”
The knight was fully stood now, but said nothing. The absence of speech was enough to make people fear this deadly knight that razed villages throughout the countries, but as the man stood and wordlessly grabbed his blades, Terrill’s eyes saw something else. He took a step forward.
He knew those blades, had seen them in action for the short time he’d known the man.
They were Charles’s blades.
“Those swords,” Terrill called, interrupting Warren’s attempt to smooth things over, “where did you get them?”
The knight fixed his gaze upon Terrill, but remained mute. His sword was rimmed with shadows, and a very specific memory visited Terrill. Krysta grabbed for his arm, stopping him from closing the gap, while Floyd and Torry had fallen back to their level. Walter was beginning to awaken, but Terrill kept his eyes only on this blackened knight. The closer he looked, the more the truth became indisputable, and it sickened him inside.
“Your Highness!” Warren called, interrupting the moment. Terrill didn’t know where to look. The Phantom Knight, or the Fiend that was pulling the strings? “This place is a prison, collecting so many important individuals. Our enemies would see us strung up for the crime of abducting them. This Phantom Knight and his cohorts! Do you think it coincidence they show up here? Now?”
“That’s a lie! We know for a fact that-” Krysta’s shout was drowned by Warren’s booming voice, taking command of the situation. Terrill wrenched his gaze to where Ricardo was looking down, confused. He was a good prince, but already the machinations of his general were taking root.
“That the Phantom Knight has been working to destabilize Invaria! He’s not of this land, and has only one goal!” Warren claimed. He stomped his foot, and the sound it made was like a drop of water hitting a pool, or that of a clear bell ringing in the air. “To have Invaria fall, so that the alliance he has made with Valorda is fulfilled!”
“Your Highness, Valorda is not involved with this man, I assure you!” Terrill said, getting his head on straight. He was still unsettled by the Phantom Knight, but had to regain control of the situation before it spun wildly out of his control. “Valorda has been hurt by the Phantom Knight the most, just the same as Sagitta and Serotin. You can see here, the daughter of Serotin’s mayor. Is that not proof enough?!”
Warren’s chilling laugh told Terrill his shouting had little effect. Ricardo remained unsure, and Terrill wished he couldn’t see the reason. Unfortunately, Warren’s bindings around Invaria were all too tight. The Fiend had played his game well in this country from the very start.
Perhaps, Terrill began to think when Warren removed his glasses, looking like all those older portraits, he had been playing it since before the start.
“And yet, Serotin’s ambassador is here, having traveled with the party from Valorda. It would seem to me the two are joined at the hip.” That was something Terrill couldn’t challenge, and Terrill grimaced when he laid eyes on the shakily standing Floyd. The boy slipped at Warren’s words, shaking his head and muttering. Ricardo was doing much the same, if in a slower fashion. “Your Highness, it is conspiracy.”
“No, it’s not!” Torry called out. She was struggling to stand, as well, her fingers crackling with lightning. Krysta intercepted, holding her hand down before she could take a shot at the general and land them in worse trouble. “I was kidnapped by the knight. My father would never collude with him, I assure you! Your Highness, Prince Ricardo, I am Torry Rainert, daughter to Gerald Rainert of Serotin. I can guarantee that Serotin had no hand in abducting these individuals. We only wish to avert war.”
“And what of your allies?” Warren hissed. The snake-like way he said it made Terrill’s hairs stand on end, his eyes flicking back over to the Phantom Knight, who remained unmoving. His face was unsettling, covered by an obsidian mask that revealed no features, and spiky, charred armor which radiated the all-too familiar shadows. “One of them is from the country of Sayn, no? Does it not then stand to reason that he would work in concert with another? One who has donned a mask to terrorize and murder the people of all nations?!”
“I’ve never…” Terrill choked on the words, and the longer he stared at the knight, the more his fears became real. “You’re not saying… Is that…? Charles, is that you?”
The knight gave no answer.
“Charles! Answer me! You were supposed to be with Lumen!” Terrill felt like he was yelling at a brick wall, and seconds after, he felt he’d made a terrible mistake.
“See?!” was the resultant hiss. “He admits it! The ambassadors from Valorda are no ambassadors at all, but liars and murderers colluding with Serotin and Sayn to pin the blame on Invaria. And Valorda condoned it!”
“That’s not possible, Warren. Phillip has always been one to promote peace.” Ricardo was getting his head on straight, though the tremble in his voice spoke to how his general’s words had shaken him. “I cannot believe that. There is another explanation.”
“Yeah, it’s that your own general has betrayed you!” Krysta said. She didn’t bring her rapier out, but her threatening stance conveyed her intent all the same. “Funny how this place was kept so off the books by people who aren’t even from Invaria. How does that work?”
“Now, now. I have been a steward of Invaria’s prosperity for many years,” Warren said, his finger wagging with a condescending “tsk”. “Who is to be believed? The enemy nation or your own general? All one needs to do is look.”
Ricardo was unsure, but the soldiers were far less so. The rumbles of agreement towards Warren’s direction started with the soldiers descending the stairs, before ratcheting up in volume when they reached those closest to the prince. Terrill looked down, seeing two collapsed soldiers on the floor of the trench, looking rather dead.
The trap had been expertly set…and Floyd had fallen right for the bait.
“I say we just arrest them all, to be sure. I believe negotiations are over.”
Terrill hated the sound of those words, though he hated the fact that Ricardo didn’t say anything even more. He readied his blade, waiting for the soldiers to come close, most of them coming over to their general’s side without issue. Terrill, however, couldn’t take his eyes from Charles, or the Phantom Knight, or whatever they were calling him.
His silence was the most disturbing.
“Charles! Snap out of it! Charles!” He did not move. But someone else did.
“Charles? Is that his name…?” The growl gave many soldiers pause. Terrill jerked back, his arm thrown out like it would protect Krysta, Floyd and Torry. “Do you know him, Terrill?”
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“Walter…” Terrill said in warning. The hunter stood, his face a feral mixture of rage and purpose. His eyes shined, and the air around them was stirred up. Terrill might have thought it was Winifred, but in that second, he could see the source was a gale wrapping around Walter, like an awakening of magic he could not control. “I don’t know why you’re after him, but Charles, he’s…he’s not a bad person. And now isn’t the time for your vendetta.”
“No. The only time is now.” Walter whipped around, his shrunken, slitted eyes zeroing on the knight. Warren grinned a maddening grin. “You will die! Murderer!”
“Krysta, stop him!” Terrill shouted, just as Walter leapt for the knight.
It was the first time he moved, both blades snapping up to block Walter’s strike. The hunter flipped off, his hand rattling on his spear as the wind within the trench became like a tornado. Krysta tried to keep herself steady, to put a shield between Walter and the man presumed to be Charles. She didn’t succeed.
“I’ll kill you!” Walter was lost, consumed by emotion. From his body, a wind ripped out. The stones cracked and shattered, and the cell bars were ripped off their supports, freeing those that had not been lost in the flood from earlier. The soldiers that didn’t have a stable footing were blown back by Walter’s uncontrollable magic, while Terrill dug his feet into the ground. This situation was becoming worse by the second, and he was starting to wish he’d brought neither Walter nor Floyd along for the journey.
“Well, I think we’ve seen enough to know how violent they are. I suppose I’ll handle them myself, Your Highness. Let us make sure you’re safely away.” Warren snapped his fingers and Terrill heard it, the familiar sound of a rushing wind. It was different Walter’s, and Terrill knew exactly who it belonged to.
“Come with me, Prince Ricardo. It wouldn’t do for you to die here.”
“Who are you?”
“Winifred!” Terrill shouted, looking up to see the woman holding tight to Ricardo. She spotted him in the trench and gave a simple wink. Then she vanished on the wind, leaving the shocked soldiers behind. All except for Warren.
“Do not worry, men. Our prince is safe,” the general assured them, his forked tongue snaking out with glee. He truly was a man that appeared to enjoy war, and now he had them right where he wanted them. “I cannot say the same for those who would conspire against him.”
“The… The Fiends are here?” Floyd gasped out. Terrill looked behind him. While Torry had managed to stand, facing the soldiers from behind with Krysta, Floyd was still on the ground. Something had shaken him, broken him, but Terrill didn’t have time to deal with the boy’s crisis; not with Walter going berserk.
Terrill made a swift choice.
As Walter leapt for the Phantom Knight again, Terrill slammed his foot. A stone slab erected itself between the two, and Walter slammed into it, rolling down its side. Terrill ran for him, grabbing the older man tightly.
“Walter, right now, I don’t care what you want to do to that knight, but this is no time for you to-” He wished he could have gotten the words out. Instead, his stone was broken apart with a single slash from the knight, who walked through it unflinching. His blade descended, and Terrill’s blade rose to meet it. They clashed, ringing through the entire trench. Terrill felt his arms already being overpowered by the strength the man possessed. “Damn…it… Charles, if that’s really you…snap out of it!”
“He won’t.” These words were close enough to Terrill’s ears, the slithering Warren taunting him in a way no one else could hear. “He is a puppet, strung up by his master’s strings. How unfortunate, a soul stained with darkness is.”
“Shut up, you snake!” Terrill lifted his foot, his last-ditch option, and brought it crashing down. The stone in the trench shook, and where the stairs met the floor, a wall of earth rose, blocking off the soldiers’ access to them. Terrill pushed forward and threw the knight’s sword off. With a rounding kick, he slammed upon his opponent’s stomach, and sent Charles flying. Neither mask nor armor was dislodged, and he hardly looked winded from such a strike. Terrill aimed his sword for Warren, but found it blocked by a longsword, summoned from siphoned water in the trench.
“Men, I do believe we have our villains cornered. Go get a platoon or two. I’ll hold them off and show them the power of a general from Invaria. Seal all the eastern ports, as well, but do not engage our knight here. That would be…most disastrous.” A flash of Warren’s slit pupils told Terrill just how adept he was at pulling these strings. He could even see those same strings, the same as the ones with LeBrandon, tying the Fiend and Charles together.
Everything was connected.
“Sir!” the soldiers called, and without hesitation or thought, they broke away from the trench. Terrill backed off, keeping his eyes on the two foes now trapped inside with them. Or so it appeared.
“Now, my dear knight, I do believe you have a task to accomplish. Let us finish the spark of war that will burn Invaria down. Slaughter them all.”
“Charles!” Terrill shouted, but he knew his words would never make it through. The knight leapt upwards, propelled by a gush of water that Warren created. He leapt out of the trench, and with the clanking of armor, set off down the river, or so Terrill assumed.
“You’re not getting away!” Walter bound up, his ragged and crazy winds whipping into the trench, blowing some of the people he had freed backwards. It reminded Terrill of just how much there was at stake here, and he wanted to drag Walter down before he made the situation worse.
Walter, however, was denied the chance.
Someone with true mastery over the wind appeared in midair, her duty completed, and with a single kick, Winifred sent Walter spiraling back down into the trench.
“I told you,” Warren said, stalking forward. Terrill backed up, into Krysta and Torry, whose shackles lay abandoned on the ground. All had their eyes were on the wickedly sharp blade of water, and it slashed at the stone, causing a deep cleft with the lightest of strikes. Warren was on a whole other level from LeBrandon. “We are not leaving anything to chance. This war begins here and now.”
“That so?” Terrill said. He exhaled through his lips. “Then that means, since all my least favorite people are here, if we cut you down, we can avert this.”
“You can try, though I wonder why you would even want to? Surge.” Where Warren tapped the ground, writhing snakes of water emerged, soaring through the air. Terrill raised his sword and, with one strike, cleaved through them. They fell like rain into the trench. Careful not to slip, Terrill ran at Warren. He whirled his sword around.
“Fangs of Earth!” The simple spell was enacted, a line of little spikes traveling forward. Warren’s longsword slashed midair, and the ground bubbled. Geysers of water shot up, breaking apart Terrill’s stones. They became beams that ripped the floor. Terrill dodged to the side, only to find one of the water slices to come at him. Krysta picked up the slack. A barrier briefly shimmered in front of him to intercept the strike, allowing Terrill to continue on as he launched over her shield. “Spire!”
Terrill’s sword made contact with the ground, and the earth was rent, sending a spike straight up. Warren was impacted by the blow, and flung off into one of the walls Terrill had created. His body broke through it, allowing more light to flood the trench. Walter ran for the exit.
“Flood.” His attempt at escape was halted by the sudden wave cresting behind Warren and crashing down upon the trench, looking to swallow them all. Walter was hit by the tide, pushed backwards, but Terrill was more worried about those trapped inside their cells.
“Freeze!” Torry had entered the fray, her frosted fingers sending a sharp chill that froze the wave before it could fully form, blocking Warren from reaching them. “This would be much easier if I had my bow to pinpoint.”
“You’ve done a decent enough job as it is. We need to get these people out of here,” Terrill told her. He knew her spell would not hold Warren for long, and sure enough, the ice was already showing cracks. What was worse, was that Winifred hadn’t even entered the fray, content to watch and wait, a perennial guard dog at the top of the trench.
“Save them or no, the damage is done, Guardian! Scald!” The one-word spells were getting on Terrill’s nerve as the Fiend struck. In a line from where Warren was last seen, spouts of steaming water emerged, blasting apart the ice in a row to get at Terrill. He and Krysta acted in concert.
“Shield!” They cried, the both of them bringing earth and light to the fore. The spouts collided, and the blast of warm air that resulted from it pushed them both back, away from Walter, who was hauling himself up. His single-minded obsession for pursuit made him an immediate target.
“Devour.” The longsword became a whip, with the head of a snake attached to it, and it snapped for Walter. The hunter stood, his spear flying out to pierce the snakes head, only to be caught in its grasp. Warren pulled at him, and Terrill moved, breaking his shield down and bouncing off of it. His fist became encrusted in stone, and before Warren could land a fatal blow, Terrill’s hand struck across the man’s face, driving him back. Only now did Terrill see that the spike which had impaled him had done no damage, as if he’d shed the skin which had sustained the injury. “You’re so resolute in your protection of them. One has to wonder why.”
Terrill had no words for him. With a snap of his foot, a stone plinth flew from the wall and pushed Walter back behind Krysta, who created a shard of light that she flung at Warren. He snapped his whip and deflected the shot. Soon as he had, the whip split in two, the water siphoning itself into two swords. Warren lunged at Terrill, and he held his blade.
The brunt of the strike was incredible, pushing him back and leaving trails behind in the ground. On top of it, one of the blades had gotten through, rippling with black water. A gash appeared on his arm, the same shadowy substance that Blaise had used eking out of it. He really was a Fiend.
“Of course. You’re made of sturdier stuff. I had hoped to pin this solely on your foolhardy friend, but I suppose contending with someone so devoted to preventing war, I should have seen this coming,” Warren said. He cricked his neck a few times, as if he’d just finished warming up. Now that they were alone, his true self as a Fiend was showing, which meant he no longer had much use for them. Rather, that was the vibe that Terrill got. “Then again, it matters little. The damage is done. Why you continue to protect them as if they matter, though, I’ll never understand. Why should a Blessed One from Dimidia care for these people?”
“Warren! Shut your mouth!” It was the first time Winifred had chosen to intervene from up high. Terrill whipped between the two, seeing Warren’s cold indifference matched against Winifred’s warning. “That isn’t for you to-”
“The game is played, Winifred. The damage done. We’ve sent the wheels spinning by leading to this place.” The Fiend stalked forward, his blades spinning around. Each of the people in the cells stood back, fearing of the general that walked past them. “There’s nothing more to hide about it. Don’t you think the brave Guardian deserves to know the truth? Already he’s seen his friend lost to the throes of darkness. Surely he deserves to understand why.”
“That’s his prerogative, not yours.”
Terrill couldn’t grasp what they were saying, only that there was a deeper truth here, begging to be revealed. One which had to do with everything about their situation. And that one word: Dimidia.
“And we are all tied by that same will. Otherwise, nothing would be done, my dear Winifred.” Terrill stepped back, while behind him, Krysta and the others drew near him, including Floyd, now back on his feet.
“What are you two talking about?” Terrill demanded, drawing them away from their argument. Winifred looked ready to launch a volley of wind, but Warren was far more aware than Blaise, and he deterred her with but a single look. “Dimidia? Is that my world?”
“And you’re in Adversa, a near carbon copy that you’re trying so very hard to save so very pointlessly.”
“It’s not pointless if they’re people.”
“Yes, of course, you value life so much, far more than your own. But you’re very wrong about a very important thing.”
Terrill couldn’t stop Warren, not able to move fast enough to prevent it. Warren held one of his longswords out, and in seconds, the water sharpened and extended. Like a dangerous shot, it flew into one of the cells and, to Terrill’s horror, impaled the Academy student that had been trapped within, straight through the heart. There were gasps from Torry, and Krysta flinched, but Terrill just stared. His body shook. But he continued watching as Warren withdrew the sword and the body fell.
It lasted but moments, and then the body shimmered.
“What. The. Hell?” Terrill breathed, and he could do nothing but watch the body fade away entirely.
“These aren’t people,” Warren said. “All this time you’ve been running around, you’ve been in a land of nothing but ghosts. Nothing but souls, doomed to fade as the cycle wills it.”