Chapter 13
The Debate
Silence and confusion followed the rising of the Wind Fortress in the night sky. Swords and spears dropped, and the various projectiles that had been flung came to a conclusive end. Instead, the eyes were drawn upwards to that floating fortress, moving closer to the side of the destructed Fort Tierial, the mechanical weapons cutting a mean silhouette against the moon as its propellers churned.
“I’ve never seen anything like it…” Floyd said. He was laughing with his words, but Terrill didn’t blame him. The marvel of the Wind Fortress was not something one saw only to feel nothing. “Ships that fly! This is what Invaria wanted, right?”
“And now, they’ll never have it,” Terrill said with a groan. His body still hurt, his tunic stained with blood, but he knew those bruises and breaks would heal. For now, he was grateful that the shadow had retreated, back to where Atrum waited. Or not Atrum. Terrill didn’t want to deal with whatever that whole situation was about, especially so as Lumen rejoined their party, the giddiest of grins adorning his face. “See, Lumen. We can make a difference.”
“Who ever said we couldn’t?!” Floyd said, eagerly contesting the notion, despite having not been present for the conversation. He spied the royal, leaning in towards him with a wary expression. “Was it this kid? Has he been going around saying we can’t do anything? Someone’s lacking in life experience!”
“Floyd, behave.” Torry pulled Floyd back, but Terrill opened his mouth to let loose peals of laughter. They hurt with every breath, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Only you could accuse someone else of lacking something that you lack, too. But it’s good to see you.” The boys tapped their fists against one another, and then Terrill sat back with a greater groan. “Lumen, I’d like you to meet Floyd and Torry, students at Serotin’s Academy …and I guess you could call them friends.”
“Whaddaya mean, ‘guess so’?” Torry stifled her giggles at Floyd’s outburst.
“Pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” the girl said, extending her hand in a formal shake. Her training as the daughter of the mayor made itself evident, and Lumen looked to appreciate the formality she treated their meeting with. “But, um, why is Alexander here?”
“A shakeup in the flow,” the old man answered, stroking his long beard while he continued to lean upon his staff. He was looking towards the Fortress, content. Underneath it, though, Terrill saw the growing sternness, his encounter with Clay not forgotten. “This Shadow and war were proving to make the Lifebloods all the more unstable. As Steward, I still task myself with ensuring they work as they should, in the absence of light. Adversa must be upheld, and in the event it should not, precautions must be taken. Though I did not expect Clay here… That is most troubling.”
“Clay, huh?” Floyd flopped on the ground next to Terrill, taking a breather in the confused murmurs and mutters around the fort. No one was sure what to do next, not with the Fortress floating close to the battlefield, but just far enough away that it could land. Terrill hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but everyone was on tenterhooks for what the new arrival’s artillery would do next. “Why is that more disturbing than everything else? He’s a Fiend working under Atrum, right?”
“And a dangerous one besides.” The glint in Alexander’s eyes spoke to a history with the man, and Terrill hung on his every word. “I’d imagine he has no love for his master, and is intelligent enough to exploit their connection. His effect on the Lifeblood of Earth has long been felt by me, and he is one I had to plan the most against, or perhaps he saw it the other way round. Though I never expected him to be such an upstart. Playing with things that were best abandoned. Perhaps he heard a part of the prophecy he never wished to…”
Terrill frowned, the old man’s musings making him more wary of Clay than he already was. The skeletal Fiend had proven himself a most tricky foe, both in battle and in sowing doubt. Perhaps, that had been part of his plan all along, though the man remained an eternal contradiction. He called himself a Guardian, yet had the face of a Chosen One. He knew more than he should, and had taunted Terrill in the desert, as if wanting him to overcome his own internal impulses to create a more effective weapon against Atrum. Then, there was Winifred, who he had dispatched to numerous places. Was it to build the Shadow? Teach Terrill about futility? Or did he, perhaps, bank on the fact Terrill would not stop?
He was wily, and Terrill had to wonder just whose side he was on. If he was on anyone’s side at all. Or if he had any choice. The strings that bonded him and Winifred to Atrum remained.
Terrill’s musings over said Fiend were interrupted by movement from the Wind Fortress that caused another stir on the battlefield. There was a grinding sound, and though it was difficult to see, one of the doors to the fortress opened up, and from it, a long staircase emerged. It was evidently part of the stairs that led inward, pivoting on itself to slam the ground, creating a path upward and inviting people inside.
No one took them up on that offer, save for a few waving Invaria’s banner.
“It is the Wind Fortress, the object of our pursuit! Invaria, to me! Let us storm the castle!” This cry garnered maybe a few cheers of agreement, the soldiers rallying under Invaria’s flag, but they didn’t get very far. No sooner had the dozen or so soldiers rushed towards the Fortress as one of the cannons whirred on its turret, freezing them up in its presence. No other man made a move.
Steam hissed, and someone emerged from within the Fortress. The flames of the battlefield left behind by Floyd highlighted his figure but none of his features, and very few could see him. Terrill, however, had a very strong guess as to who was brave enough to come out and meet the armies. His theory was proven right when Titus’s voice was carried by the wind to all those in the vicinity, from Phillip to the ships in the bay.
“Greetings, Kingdom of Valorda. Kingdom of Invaria. This is the Wind Fortress.” The volume blew over some of the soldiers, while others shook their heads in disbelief. Terrill shared a bemused glance with Torry and Floyd, wondering how, in this world of magic, people would be surprised by anything. Still, it was effective in putting an end to the battle, and Terrill decided that was good enough. Titus continued on. “I am the Chief Engineer and Elder Titus. Our Fortress, long referred to in the legends of Gladius, has risen again to bring peace to the continent.”
“This guy’s pretty blunt,” Floyd said, shoving his hands in his pockets before the elder could continue. Terrill looked up at Alexander, wondering his reaction, but the man gave away nothing on his face. He just remained standing there.
“We request all of you cease your hostilities at once, lest we deliver swift retribution to those who would further disturb the peace and natural order of our fair continent.” That got people talking, fear of the third-party’s attack spiking amidst the soldiers. Terrill worried it would bring the Shadow roaring right back into their midst, but Titus’s next words assuaged that from ever coming to pass. “Not that we wish to. We are peacekeepers only, but with the natural state of Gladius disturbed, we will not court any further war. Dare to invade us, and we will retaliate. Dare to shoot us down, and we will retaliate. However, should we be able to come to an amicable agreement, we can all live in peace and restore the natural order of things. I leave it up to you to decide, Prince Ricardo of Invaria and King Phillip of Valorda. We await favorable response.”
His message delivered, the man retreated back inside and the door sealed shut with a foreboding hum. It was an effective statement, cowing any further attempt at invasion. Amongst the soldiers, it left the solitary question of “what now?”, an inquiry that Terrill wondered, himself. No longer a time to stand around, Terrill dragged himself to his feet and faced in the direction of Phillip and his advisors.
True to expectations, the advisors were all lobbying opinions his way, with some attempting to dissuade him from going, while others were very adamant about him reaching a place of peace. The disarray of the battlefield didn’t help, with troops from both sides standing around awkwardly. None of them wanted to be blown apart by the cannons, and didn’t dare to fight, but they were just as confused about what they should do, awaiting orders from the top.
There was no way to know what Ricardo had decided, but Terrill chose to trust his hope for peace, and he looked across the courtyard to Phillip. The king stared back, his mouth a thin line at his advisors’ incessant chattering. The royal guard around him awaited his response equally, and it was for their sake, and the sake of his country, that he finally produced a response.
“I will go.” Predictably, he was met with a barrage of responses, none of which the king listened to as he strode away from his advisors. “Shore up the fort, and call our soldiers back. If we are to attain peace, I don’t want news of a single outbreak of violence. With any luck, this pointless war will be done by sunup. Mr. Jacobs, if I could ask you and your entourage to escort me, I believe that would be best.”
“Please, Your Majesty, let us defend you!” a captain of the royal guard called. Phillip waved him off and reassured him with a smile as he came to stand in the middle of Terrill’s ragtag group.
“Worry not. I trust Ricardo will make the right decision, and I don’t believe our mediators in the Wind Fortress would take kindly to any attempts on my life.” That was the last he had to say on the subject, and with a motion of hands, he indicated for Terrill to lead on. That was a tad difficult for him, but Floyd slung Terrill over his shoulder. The group of warriors on the battlefield strode through the staring, bamboozled army to approach the Wind Fortress. Alexander came with them, but said little, his face stuck in eternal contemplation.
The battlefield that led to the stairs was pockmarked, with craters and stones littering the area to prevent a singular straight line to their destination. The Valordan soldiers began to pull back, many saluting at their king, while Invarian soldiers hesitated, but ultimately gave a wide berth to Terrill’s party. This became more common the closer they got, and it was clear to be a result of Ricardo and his own party of the Invarian royal guard coming from the ships. Both stopped at the foot of the stairs, and for more than a minute, no one said a word.
“This feels awkward. Shouldn’t one of us go inside?” Floyd whispered, but everyone ignored him. Ricardo was the first to step forward, still dressed in the usual finery of his station. He was unsure what to say, but breached the topic, anyway.
“I’m sorry about all this, Phillip. Would seem our countries have been quite the fools.”
“We’ve still time to remedy that, Ricardo. Hope isn’t lost to us yet.” It was a beautiful thing to see both take each other’s hand in peace, and begin to ascend the stairs together. Terrill’s group followed, their legs burning as they climbed all the way to where the Wind Fortress hovered over the ground. Beneath the fortress, Terrill could see whirling propellers and tiny gusts of wind, as though the Lifeblood was tying itself to the very air around them, maintaining its flight. Torry was most interested, leaning off the side of the stairs, which resulted in Floyd pulling her back before she fell to her doom.
Not long after that, both forces arrived at the door, awaiting entrance to the mythical Fortress that had been their aim. It took a moment, but the door hissed open, the green lights within beckoning them forward. Phillip was the first to step over the threshold. Ricardo was quick to follow, as was everyone else, including the imposing Alexander. Terrill was the only one to pause at the entrance and stare westward across the sea.
He couldn’t shake the feeling this wasn’t over yet. He knew it wasn’t.
Terrill hadn’t taken two steps inside when the door shut behind him with a familiar hiss, and a pair of arms were wrapped around in a tight hug. He didn’t need to see to know who was conveying that much concern for his wellbeing with how tightly she was squeezing him.
Stolen story; please report.
“Yeah, I’m all right, Krysta. We’re all just fine. Ah.” Breath hissed through his teeth as Krysta drew back, realizing she had touched to a wounded area. Not even considering where they were standing or where they needed to get to, she lifted his jerkin and shirt up to reveal the scar from earlier, masked in red and purple marks, along with the split skin and burned cuts.
“Were you reckless again?”
“Not particularly.”
“Sure kicked Winifred’s ass, though.” Floyd’s joke was appreciated, the two bumping their fists at his praise. “Glad to see we get some love, too, Krysta. Hey, old man.”
“Floyd,” Walter said with a grunt. His face was smeared with grease and his clothing had trace burns in their fabric, Terrill able to conclude they had worked hard in getting the Fortress up and running again. Krysta looked just as disheveled and exhausted now that he saw her, tapping to his abdominals to determine where to heal. “Looks like we missed all the fun below. How did you two get here anyway?”
“Turns out when you have an ultra-powerful mage on your team, both sides tend to listen to reason over country lines,” Floyd told him with a grin. This didn’t put him in any better mood, but it did make Torry shine with pride over her boyfriend’s statements.
“All I had to do was appeal to their better nature, convincing them they were better off working together than against each other, especially with Sheeris in the state that it was,” the girl said. Terrill had a feeling “better nature” meant something along the lines of freezing their ships with impunity until they agreed to get along.
He hissed again as Krysta went to work, healing up his ribs and the bruises on his arms. There was nothing she could do for his scar, but he didn’t mind that, grateful for her magic in any capacity. When she finished, satisfied with her work, she turned to the newly-arrived duo. “I am glad to see both of you. How are things in Sheeris?”
“Better. Waters are running smoothly, though I don’t think we can say for how long. It’s not easy to cut out a shadow entirely.”
Terrill knew that was certainly the case, expelling a sigh. They weren’t out of the woods yet. He touched over his chest, making sure everything was good as Krysta caught up with both Floyd and Torry. Walter was less jubilant, scoffing, but he had nothing on Lumen, who stood there with nothing to say, seeming out of place. Terrill didn’t want that, so he closed the distance and threw an arm around the boy.
“There’s no reason to be so quiet, Lumen. We’re all friends here. You’re not alone, okay?” His hand tightened on the boy’s shoulder, imparting the words he wanted Lumen to hear underneath his words. Nothing could alleviate the boy’s mind on those matters, though he smiled at the other three nonetheless. Terrill wheeled him around, beginning to take the steps. “Come on, guys. They’ll be working out a treaty, so we need to plan our next move.”
“Next move? You mean we’re not done yet?! Ugh, I’m so exhausted…” Floyd’s playful complaints made Lumen smile, something that the redhead paid attention to as he slung his hands behind his head.
“We’re far from done, Floyd,” Terrill shot back, their group of six entering the atrium of the Wind Fortress. It looked busier than ever with the floating wind readers and, more particularly, the round table surrounded by ten chairs in the middle of the room. Titus had prepared for the arrival of the king and prince, now sitting and deliberating matters. Alexander was sitting by with them, but unlike Titus, wasn’t listening to a word of their negotiation.
“…fact remains that we had no association with the Phantom Knight, and would have hardly sent him traipsing into Invaria on orders to render a reason for war. You know this, Ricardo!”
“My general did not believe as such, and he went missing on a voyage to Sheeris. Your ambassadors were at the trench where we found them.”
“And my advisors’ children were there just the same,” Phillip argued back. Ricardo wanted to be convinced, that much was clear, but the concern for his country was getting the better of him. “I have always advocated for there to be no quarrel between us, but you cannot stop the rage of a bereaved parent. It still comes down to it that Invaria sought southern expansion to seek the very place we sit in now.”
“A fact that now we are airborne has rendered all of your meaning for war useless,” Titus informed them both, hands upon the table. Those floating about the atrium didn’t react to their leaders’ movements, focusing on the winds, and Terrill wondered what they were sensing westward. “At this point, it is imperative peace be made, lest more needless lives be lost.”
“And what of Invaria’s welfare? Hm?” Ricardo questioned, his fingers tapping on the table. War had made him hardened in his decision-making, a fact Phillip recognized and appealed to by listening graciously. “Our naval defenses were failing. We needed the power of this fortress to survive.”
“And that is a power impossible to share with anyone else.” Titus stood now, pacing back and forth. “Our Fortress exists only to keep the peace, not make strides for other countries. That is what I am here to broker.”
“That, I am afraid, may take some time,” Phillip said, stroking at his chin while he considered the prince and friend before him. “Though we both wish a treaty to end this, it remains that there has been a loss of life on both sides and each of us will request some form of reparation. Fort Tierial is in ruins, and given your Font of Water has been affected, Invaria’s very existence teeters. We’ll need time.”
“Time’s something we don’t have the luxury of,” Terrill interjected. All at the table, including Alexander, looked up at him. He was flanked by his companions, five strong, each waiting for him to elaborate. “The battle here may have ended, and you can discuss an ending to the war, but that shadow…it’ll be back.”
“Impossible. We blasted it out of the sky with our air cannons,” Titus insisted, waving away the claim.
“You cannot destroy shadow but with pure, unadulterated light.” Alexander’s words were hung upon as he spoke them. Each was slow, deliberate, ensuring that everyone heard them. “And even then, in its current form, it will not be destroyed. You’d have to sever every individual string.”
“Wait, then what are our options?” Floyd said, peeking around Terrill as he did so and gripping his left shoulder. Krysta grabbed his right one, holding tight as they awaited Alexander’s answers.
“There are two options: form the Shadow and pierce it with holy light,” he said, his eyes seeking Krysta. She looked away, but he continued on as if she hadn’t. “Or, force that boy out of Adversa. He’s the true root of the problem.”
“Atrum, you mean.” Lumen’s wistfulness carried him away from them, slumping against a wall in the atrium and falling to the floor.
“I’m sorry, what is this Adversa? And this Shadow?”
“It’s…complicated to explain, Your Majesties,” Terrill said, rubbing the back of his head. He didn’t want to figure out how to explain it, either. “But, there’s someone who’s been manipulating things behind the scenes, using the Phantom Knight against both of your countries to spark this…war… Of course…”
“What is it?” Krysta asked at his trailing off, joining a chorus of voices that asked the same thing. Terrill could have slapped himself.
“His backup plan. This battle almost forged the Shadow, but it wasn’t the end of his plan. He has a backup with Charles. He’s going to try again.”
“And with enough parts already fermented from war and despair, it is only a brief matter of time before he collects them all at the Lifeblood of Darkness. What a masterstroke in his plan! Hah! The boy’s grown up.” Alexander looked amused, but the twitching of his foot betrayed his worry at the newest complications to the situation. It was a better sight than Titus and the royals, who blinked at each other without understanding much (or anything) of what was being spoken.
“Boy?” Torry asked, folding her arms. “You mean Atrum. Terrill’s friend.”
“I’m not so sure he is…” Terrill muttered. Krysta’s hand slid off him at this observation, and Alexander’s eyes flashed as though confirming he was correct in what he had picked up on. “There’s just…something different about him. And so much of this…it happened before he could have possibly been born.”
“How old is he again?”
“Eighteen.” The answer came from Lumen. “Atrum is eighteen. My age. My…exact age, down to the second.” Terrill and his party turned to the boy, now drawing his knees to himself. “He’s my brother… Or put more simply, I believe he’s…me.”
“You?” Walter said, his head inclined in Lumen’s direction. “How would that be possible? Some replica of you?”
“No, the boy is his Adversan counterpart made physical,” Alexander said. Lumen shrunk in further, but was pleased that he didn’t have to explain something so painful. Krysta was shaking her head, while Torry and Floyd shared a look at the new phenomenon, something that broke the very rules of nature they had come to expect. Terrill didn’t express his surprise. This particular revelation had become quite clear over the course of their battle at Fort Tierial. Alexander, however, began to explain how. “It is arcane magic, and breaks as many laws of magic as one could believe, but therein lies the capabilities of Soul Magic at its very core. Atrum was a very special case, only made possible by the prophecy in Sayn.”
“The prophecy of a Chosen One, born in the month I was born to a member of the royal family. Born to die and bring prosperity. My so-called family believed it right to offer my mother and father to the King, believing I would die then and there to fulfill the prophecy for prosperity.” Lumen spat on the ground. Terrill, too, scrunched his entire face at the realization of what the royal family of his own nation had done. Of what being the Chosen One really meant.
“He took advantage of that,” Alexander continued. “In that moment of birth, I would imagine he used his magic and forcibly yanked Lumen’s soul from the rift between worlds and separated them. It gifted them magic without Blessing, but without creating a Fiend, and to sustain this new soul in the physical realm, his Soul String connected the two. So long as one lives, so does the other. The perfect crafted vessel that belongs only to him, one which he shifted his soul inside.”
His eyes trailed along their entire group, lingering on each individual as he shared this information. Torry clutched at her head, muttering under her breath as she fell into a chair at the table. Krysta shook next to Terrill. Each was in denial, except for Terrill and Walter, the hunter uncaring about the situation. Lumen, however, remained the most stoic of them all.
“But the vessel that is Atrum, my brother, won’t sustain him forever. It’s the reason he’s been throwing himself between Fiends and Charles, as if looking for a way out,” the royal said. His knees fell down, his legs splaying out as he reached for the ceiling. He looked like he wanted to grasp the light above, but failed to do so. “He wants my body. After all, if I’m fated to die, he can take advantage of that. You’ve said the process of Blessing involves returning an Adversan soul to its Dimidian counterpart. Well, I guess he wants ‘Atrum’ to join with ‘Lumen’ to complete everything.
“That’s something I’ve made peace with.”
“How can you just make peace with that?!” Krysta shouted, her voice echoing with rage. Terrill stepped back from her as the girl stormed across the room to pick Lumen up and slam him against the wall. Alexander quirked an eyebrow, but no one else stopped her. “He perverted your life! He made it a mockery of what it should have been, and you’d be okay to just join with him despite the fact this is never the way it was supposed to be?! How can you just agree to that? Aren’t you…aren’t you…your own…person…?”
“I’ve…never had the luxury of being my own person,” Lumen said, reaching up to tenderly take Krysta’s hands and remove them from him. “My only role in life is to live for others. To die for others. If I can join with him and use what’s left of my life to take out his Shadow, then…I’m happy to die.”
“Tch.” Terrill’s noise drew attention, though not as much as him kicking an empty chair and sending it flying into the wall. Lumen choosing to sacrifice his life like it meant something…it rankled him far more than he ever cared to admit. He voiced that with all the seething rage he could contain beneath the surface. “We’re not doing that. We’re not sacrificing lives just to stop him. I’ll cut through that shadow and cut through whatever fate you think is meant for yourself, Lumen.”
“You can’t fight-”
“Yeah, watch us!” Terrill was backed by Floyd, nodding furiously at the defiant statement. Alexander chuckled, but his chuckles turned to contemplation when Torry opened her mouth to begin speaking.
“So, Atrum is, by technicality, an Adversan, and he’s tied to Lumen… Interesting… It certainly exposes the nature of the dual worlds,” she muttered. The argument over Lumen’s fate died down as each came to look at her. It didn’t take long before she took the pages meant for a treaty and began to scrawl upon them with random notes in horrible handwriting, to the point Ricardo’s face flinched from even attempting to read it. “A soul and a body are drawn to each other like magnets, fitting in when they undergo the process of Blessing. But if that’s the case, it would mean the soul cannot survive in the physical world without that Blessing or some other process. In this case, Atrum would be forcibly linked to Lumen and whatever is using him as a vessel. While Lumen is in Dimidia, he is in Dimidia, and when Lumen comes to Adversa…”
“Then Atrum would be forced to stay in Adversa. Or maybe it’s vice-versa!” Floyd remarked, pulling up his own chair to add to Torry’s convoluted doodles. “Atrum wanted to stay in Adversa to form his shadow, so he needed to bring Lumen here. So, the way to kick him out of Adversa and stop him from causing damage is for…”
“For us to go home. To Dimidia,” Terrill said. The answer was clear.
“To close the rift that brought you here,” Alexander concluded. “After all, did you not pass through a rift.”
“Sure, but that was months ago. There’s no guarantee that it-”
“Oh, it remains,” Alexander said, a chuckle laced amongst his words. “The Lifebloods exist between the two worlds. It is the only way this plan to make a vessel was possible, because of that conduit used as a traversal.”
“The Fiends…they could travel through Dimidia and Adversa freely!” Terrill yelled, the two royals at the table flinching from his outburst. “That would mean…he could do the same. That would mean that he’s a Fiend inside Atrum’s body.”
“And he needed the rift in order to anchor himself where he pleased, or more precisely, to anchor his Shadow. Then he needed to give it a means to form, emerge and become despair incarnate.” Alexander sucked in a breath. “He means to alter the flow of the world by destroying the Lifebloods.”
“And just who is this ‘he’?” Walter asked, growing tired of the conversation and leaning against the wall next to Lumen. “It’s clear he’s not this Atrum, and it’s very clear that every action that has ruined lives can be attributed to him. You keep speaking as if it should be obvious, but are answering very little in the way of identity or a solution to fix all of this!
“So, again, who has possessed Atrum and brought this Shadow to Adversa?”
Terrill didn’t want to be the one to answer, and Lumen refused to. So, it was Alexander who came to stand, leaning upon his staff with the revelation upon his tongue. “He is Golbrucht, King of the Dark, a Fiend who chose to challenge fate.”