Chapter 7
The Return
“Purification? What, you mean the obliteration of all life?” Terrill shouted. Blaise stalked closer, gaining more definition through the flames. His robes did not burn amidst the dark fire, and his sword was held like an orange beacon in all of that blackness. A single swipe of it could bisect his body, and Terrill knew it. The metal keeping him pinned, he still tried to push upwards, only to cough with the strain on his ribs and the ash infesting the air. For a second, he stopped trying. “You guys already tried that once with the Shadow, and you failed then! I’m not letting you succeed now!”
“And for every person you save, another would take their place!” Blaise’s blade fell, straight for Terrill. Its molten edge began to cut through that which pinned him, and Terrill chose to not take any chances. With what little movement he had, Terrill slapped his hand down. From the concrete of the floor, a large fist emerged, slamming into Blaise and pushing him away from Terrill. That fist soon exploded into rubble. “That is the law of souls in this world. A cycle to keep that predestination endless.”
Having bought time, Terrill pushed at the metal, lifting it inches off of his body. It clanged with a horrible noise, one yet lost to the raging fire, leaving Terrill splayed out and exhausted on the floor. Blaise was dusting himself off. “What? That…end of the world thing?”
“But of course. All souls are determined for that end, and each is lost according to destiny. It is the first thing taught within Crea’s teachings.”
“Sorry, I’m not a devout believer,” Terrill groaned out. He rolled over to his stomach, reaching behind him for his sword, only for a boot to slam into his back and pin him there. Screams could be heard over the crackling, roaring fire, the people of Rotarin panicking as the screeching of the hangar doors opening could be heard. Terrill opened his mouth to scream, but all it resulted in was a cry of pain, Blaise’s foot driving into him with burning intensity.
“It is no worry. Believer or not, your soul would join the flow all the same, part of Crea’s great lie.” The Fiend leaned inward, his molten breath making Terrill recoil inside. “But you’re lucky. You can experience the truest form of release, your soul already joined to your body.”
“What…lie…?” Terrill gasped out. He could feel his very stomach begin to boil from Blaise’s efforts, and his previous question mattered very little. He pushed up, only to be kept down while Blaise raised his sword overhead, taking no chances. “How are you alive?”
“You shall never know.”
“No…” Terrill managed to grunt, writhing this way and that to break free of Blaise’s hold. All he managed to get loose was his sword arm before he was stomped back in the dirt. Moonlight pooled, an eerie silver glow joining the black flames, and a new cacophony of voices threatened to put the citizens at risk. Terrill wouldn’t let it happen, and though his body was trapped, his hand was enough. “Not today. Spire!”
Curling his fingers into a fist, Terrill slammed downward, and a concrete construct twisted itself up into a drill that pierced Blaise’s shoulder, driving him back. Terrill heaved in his breaths, sucking in what little good air there was, his lungs corroding with every whiff of the black air. He had to move. He had to protect the people here and keep them away from the shadowy flames. His hand lifted once more.
“Will you really use magic here? This is not Adversa. The people will hate you for it. That hatred will engender scorn. That scorn will drive you to curse your fate.”
“And let me guess? That creates a Fiend?” Terrill paused in his movements, looking back to see a wicked grin split Blaise’s face. His façade of false piety was falling away. In a moment of clarity, Terrill recalled Clay’s words, of the Blessed being an antithesis to the Fiends, and he was able to laugh. “Nice try, Blaise, but we’re not so weak as you.”
“Nay, I am not weak, for I rise again and again!” His fire propelled him forth, the burning blade descending, giving Terrill little time to choose his course of action. He chose the only one.
“Pillars of Earth!” Terrill’s scream gave form to his soul. His hands pressed the floor, lifting his body up despite all of its cries begging not to. His leg came up, snapping into the Fiend’s chin and allowing Terrill to spin himself to a stand. While he was doing so, the stone pillars emerged at the edges of the hangar, pushing back those who would run into danger. With them safe, and his breaths labored, Terrill ripped his sword out of its new scabbard and pointed it at Blaise, all of his thoughts finally collecting themselves. “So…what’s this mean? You Fiends are immortal?”
“Surely you’ve become aware after how many times you’ve clashed with our King.” Terrill’s sword rose, putting itself into a striking position. The call was evident, and Blaise swung down with all of his flaming intensity. Knowing it would be the end for his blade, Terrill ducked under and slashed up, nicking the Fiend’s cheek.
“Golbrucht…” Terrill muttered under his breath. Of course… I should have known.
The King of the Dark had returned over and over, time and again, and it began to stand to reason that the Fiends could be revived through whatever process. It was something he should have known, but could not fathom as he sent another twisted spiral roaring up to intercept Blaise. The real question was how?
Seeing Blaise there, he began to have an idea, but no time for it to matter in anything but the larger picture.
“There are some advantages to our rejection.”
“And who was it that rejected you? Crea?” The spiral broke apart, its stones battering the hull of the skyship and putting it in danger. More metal fell from the ceiling, and some supports began to lean and tumble from the stress of the fire. The shouts from outside grew ever more concerned. Blaise did not answer, his roaring becoming a howl that sounded horrendous, and his sword turned to frenzy, one that Terrill knew he would not be able to quell. His silence spoke all. “Her will… Her Lifebloods? So, you are tied to the Lifebloods. And if you’re the opposite of we Blessed, then…”
“Perish.” This time, Terrill had no choice but to block. His sword came up to parry, the flaming blade beginning to melt and cut into the sword. Terrill broke off his musings to swing his fist out in a stony haymaker that sent Blaise skidding along the ground.
“Is your life tied to the Lifebloods? How? And why did he send you, of all the Fiends? Where would he…?” Terrill could answer his own question, remembering that rush of magical energy by the Luster Mines, and Floyd’s own surge in power at Tarkinder. “He’s at the Abyssal Palace… Golbrucht is wounded, so he had to dispatch you, and since Clay and Winifred…”
“Ah, but who said I was alone?” Blaise’s grin unsettled Terrill, his senses attempting to pick up on the meaning behind this once-priest’s words. “Lest you forget, we Fiends are tied as one.”
“Soul String.”
“Wave.”
Terrill knew that voice, and hated it more than he could remember hating anything but Golbrucht, himself. Worse yet, was that his body was already feeling so much fatigue that he could not stop the crush of the water from blasting into him. Blaise was wrapped in flame, disappearing from the battle as the water washed over, sweeping Terrill from his feet. He was flung back, into the wings of the skyship where he gagged and slid to the watery floor. The constructs he had created were likewise ripped off their foundations, the outside of Rotarin now an open pathway and well within the line of fire.
“Everyone, secure the hangar!”
“Intruders! Sound the alarm, and find the guildmaster!”
“Interference,” was the cold appraisal of their newest arrival. Terrill looked up, pushing from the ground with his sword in hand to see Warren, the Defiler of Waters, standing there. Like Blaise, he was unharmed, and looking very not dead. The only welcome part was that the look on his face did not convey pleasure in this newest plan. “Blaise, you need only to have killed him. This theatricality is wasted.”
“Says the man who orchestrated a war between nations for revenge.”
“You know there is a deeper meaning to all things. Not revenge, but a defiance of this world’s order. A cleansing of the Blessed.”
“A rejection of Crea’s fate!”
The Fiends were in eerie concert, and Terrill could feel it, their overwhelming power. They were souls stronger, perhaps, than even the Blessed, ones that had endured ages. It was a frightening opposition, but one that Terrill refused to back down from. If anything, the claims of their attempts pushed him onward. “Rejecting fate? Yeah, I want to do that, too.”
“Oh? Has the hero seen the light?” Warren chuckled, his glasses bouncing as he shook his head. “Does this mean you’ll change your mind?”
“I want to change fate…” Terrill repeated. He kept his stomach tucked in, his abdomen crying out while his muscles pulsed in lifting his sword. The many people of Rotarin were beginning to run in, but Terrill could offer them no warning, not even to those who stopped at the unusual sight. Terrill sucked in a small breath. “I want to change the fate of people who have nothing else to turn to but the end. I want to change it so they stop hurting. So they can be…saved.”
“Oh.” Warren was disappointed, stepping forward with his hands behind his back. “You haven’t changed, have you? Still a hero. There is no change without sacrifice. Allow me to demonstrate. Surge.”
His aqueous sword manifested in midair, and he plunged into the concrete. Blaise was content to watch, his hands clasping as if in prayer for the soon to be dearly departed souls. Terrill’s face twitched, this exact situation mirroring their clash in Invaria.
This time, he would not let the same thing pass.
This time, he had grown beyond throwing himself between attacks.
This time, he kept his eyes on Warren, and trusted in the others. He ran, his sword flashing out at Warren’s wide eyes. The Fiend began to disappear, and Terrill could feel the power of the earth pulsing, working his theory into reality, but Terrill would not be denied. His second hand left his sword to grab Warren’s wrist, and he drove his blade through.
Well, he missed the vital spots of Warren’s body, instead impaling the Fiend’s side, and leaving him open for any sort of attack as the snapping snakes made of water chased for the citizens of Rotarin. Terrill could not save them in time, but he worried little about them and more of the leering enemy in front of him.
“Did you forget, boy?” Warren’s tongue slithered out, revealing its forked nature. “We’re Fiends. Hardly human. Abominations of the aberrant soul twisting the body. My snakeskin will heal me.”
“And my fire will scorch you!” Blaise came hurtling through the air. “Let all these immolated souls return to the flow!”
“What are you? Some walking contradiction?!” Terrill ripped his blade out and stomped. From there, a large paling of stone emerged, which Blaise’s flaming fist made contact with. For a second, it was silent, and then the explosion ripped out. The stone shield protected Terrill, the skyship and those behind him, but Warren’s attack continued on. Terrill’s skin blistered from the heat, preventing him from taking action, but he had meant it when he engaged Warren, and now, his belief was made real.
“Luminous Shield!”
“Abyssal Cut!”
Terrill grinned, and made his own move. His shield broke apart, coming together as a large stone that he flung at Warren. The Fiend could not disappear fast enough, the offending projectile colliding with him and sending him into a wall. Meanwhile, Charles had appeared from within the crowd, twin blades slashing at Blaise’s side. The Fiend could hardly react when a darkened X bloomed across his abdomen. As for defense, Lumen’s newly wrought shield did the work, a prism of light manifesting between Warren’s attack and the hapless citizens of Rotarin. It drove Lumen back, but the people were unharmed, if shaken by such a display.
“What… What power is that…?”
“Is the skyship okay?”
“You see, Terrill? This is why you shouldn’t have rushed in,” Charles said in remonstration. Terrill shrugged, agreeing, but hardly upset; they were in a situation, but he had at last gathered what he was beginning to believe was the final piece of the puzzle. “Now, it would seem we have some Fiends to deal with.”
“You?!” Blaise groaned, fire spurting from his wound. His mouth opened to reveal fangs that had not been there before, apoplexy popping across his face. “Golbrucht’s puppet! How are you here?!”
“Why? Did he not calculate into your plans? Or did you expect him to keep playing puppet just like you freaks?” Terrill asked. Behind him, many were working to check over the integrity of the skyship, and given no moans of despair, Terrill had to believe it was still in tiptop shape. He hoped to keep it that way.
“We are no mere puppets.” A geyser gushed forth, blowing apart what little was left of Terrill’s attack, with Warren striding out. True to his words, his wound was healing over. “We are those who struggled against a fate so great, we were cursed. And, even with Golbrucht… Hah, well, his is not the only iron in the fire. Connected we may be, but our choices remain our own.”
“Yeah, that’s not choice,” Terrill said, refusing the general’s doctrine. “That’s you kicking and screaming when life doesn’t go exactly the way you want it.”
“You yourself said you wish to defy it!”
“Yeah, to ensure others don’t end up exactly like you: bitter, alone, rejecting the world.”
“It is the world that rejected us!” Blaise roared, and Terrill could already see his hands changing, losing their humanoid form. It was something he had only gotten a mere glimpse of back at the volcano, but now it was becoming fully-grown before his eyes. “Because we did not align with it! And you! You who were a puppet! How can you even live, acting so free?! You Blessed are stains that I will burn away!”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“Blaise, you incompetent-”
The Destroyer of Flame did not heed Warren’s words. His transformation was full-wrought. Hands became claws, bedecked with red scales, while the human face shifted to a snout, scaly and emanating smoke. His body was growing larger, too, truly into a form of a twisted abomination. Terrill had one move.
“Everyone, get out of here now!”
His shout confused people, causing them a halt in their activities, but all of their eyes to fall upon Blaise, now becoming a reptilian form, with wings that sprouted from his back, taking up half of the hangar with his size alone. It was a miracle that the skyship wasn’t damaged. “You unrighteous sinners!”
The growl preceded the massive claw descending to where Terrill was, the wings of the creature flapping out. Lumen was blown backwards, into the walls of the hangar, while Blaise’s other front claw swiped at Charles. The older man held his blades up in defense, but they were as mere pinpricks to the Fiend, who pinned him to the ground. Terrill soon met the same fate, the claw pressing into him and threatening to crack whatever ribs weren’t yet broken. Terrill’s head snapped back, banging against the concrete while Blaise’s wings gave another gust that tore the workers away from their pride and joy. The top of the hangar was ripped off, as were many doors and windows, exposing the fiendish transformation for all of Rotarin to see.
Mutters followed, soon joined by the clacking of a cane.
“You and Winifred…the two youngest, always so impetuous. There is no need for your abominable form.”
Blaise snorted at Warren’s chastisement, smoke curdling from his nostrils. “Says the snake.”
“We were summoned here for one purpose: to put a stop to Terrill Jacobs, and attain Lumen as a vessel. Now, I’d rather not tarry lest the old man shows up again.”
“Hmph, there’s little he can do now. Not against my scales!”
“His power does not lie in strength, but in knowledge. A knowledge with far more breadth than even I and Clay, the Elder Fiends, can attest to.” Terrill struggled at the small quarrel between the two, but found that Blaise’s hold on him was absolute. No matter how he kicked or writhed, the claws had a lock on him, digging into the concrete and holding him there.
“Heh, if you’re elder then they must be ancient! Just as my form is! How do you like it, puppets?” Blaise pressed down, his claw peeling torturous screams from Terrill as he felt one of his ribs snap. On the other end, Charles was hardly even fighting at all, his eyes closed, making Terrill want to struggle ever more. He only lacked the strength. “Dragons were once creatures created by pure flame, an incarnation of fire so ancient that when the goddess split the world, they vanished in entirety. Now, I take their form, a direct antithesis to the goddess. Writhe, lowly mortal.”
“Stop being so loquacious, Blaise. It does not suit you, in spite of your rhetoric,” Warren said with venom. He refused to transform, each step like a horrific drip of water while he stepped up to Terrill. “Though an oaf, he does demonstrate the power we Fiends have. Something you could never fight against. You lack strength to do so.”
“And so what?!” Terrill shouted, pooling every bit of defiance he had. It tore at his muscles, but he made sure that his shout echoed. The people of Rotarin around the hangar were even silenced, watching the scene with alarm, fascination and fear. “So what if I’m weak? I’m not alone!”
“That’s…right…” Lumen’s grunts drew amusement from Warren, the Fiend watching the boy stand. His sword and shield were shaking in his hold, but Lumen maintained his stance. “We’re with Terrill.”
“Not for long,” Blaise snickered. “Your fate is to become one with our King, that he may survive when Adversa is dust. Let us strip those elements down. Then everyone will know what it feels like to be rejected. Warren, collect him.”
“With pleasure.” Warren’s sword manifested, transforming into a whip that lashed out. Lumen attempted to deflect, but his own bruises and wounds slowed him, missing the mark and causing the whip to wrap around his figure, binding him tightly.
“Lumen!” Terrill shouted. Against the pain, Terrill beat his legs, but they merely glanced off of Blaise’s scales. Lumen, too, was bound so tight, his weapons dropped to the floor. The fear was reaching a muttering pitch. Terrill thrashed, but his strength was starting to leave him, until he saw the crowd behind the flames that still yet burned. At the head of it was Chloe, shouting some unknowable orders against the ringing in his ears.
Behind her…was Walter.
The hunter stood there, watching the situation, pale as a ghost. Something was flashing before his eyes, like his life and his choices in both worlds were streaming into him. Terrill wanted to call out, to ask him for help, but was beginning to become unable to breathe. He plead with his eyes instead, but Terrill wasn’t sure he got the message as another resounding snap filled the air.
“Charles! Charles, get up!” Lumen’s shout forced Terrill’s head up as he saw his fellow Guardian giving way to the pressure Blaise was exerting upon him.
“There is no more need to struggle,” Warren said, yanking on his whip and forcing Lumen to the ground. “After all his deeds, no one understands that more than the Phantom Knight. As do we. Sometimes, death is preferable to the hell we live with. Sayn long accepted that, sacrificing ones such as yourself for their prosperity. Death begetting life. But you can live, Lumen, and subvert fate.”
“Just let me kill the sinful whelps fir-AGH!” Something had struck Blaise in the face, and the loud boom that sounded afterwards indicated that whatever that something was had fallen to the floor. Terrill craned his head to look, seeing it to be a ball of iron, not much different from a cannonball, but disintegrating into ash.
“I do not know who you are, but if you dare denigrate our haven of innovation with talk of killing and sinning and whatever other nonsense words you come up with, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” Chloe shouted. The cries of agreement that rose up showed that the words of their leader were emboldening them to take a stand. Warren clicked his tongue with displeasure. “Charles, I really don’t care what they’re calling you right now, or how much you want to run away, but the brother I remember still had some fight left in him. Still had some dream.
“Or are you some pushover whose first instinct is to die?”
“Silence, you insolent wench! You have not pierced my scales, and now will pay the price for defying the goddess with your inno-gragh!” Chloe had fired again, once more hitting Blaise’s draconic mouth. He was getting enraged, stomping his hindlegs and causing the entirety of the hangar to shudder. Once his head was righted, he opened it, a burgeoning flame forming inside. Terrill pushed to break free all the more, only managing a couple of fingers, but not enough.
Then just feel it, Terrill… Remember everything Torry taught you. Remember what you felt in the shadow. Everything is connected, made up of the flow of souls that makes fate. That means… “The earth over there is the earth over here! Stone Spire!”
Without moving a single limb, Terrill closed his eyes, feeling the rush of magic in his soul travel along the ground to a place underneath Blaise’s belly. Then, the earth cracked. From it, the drilling spire emerged, driving into the dragon. The fire spurted upwards, scorching the ceiling, and the claws removed themselves from Terrill’s body, allowing him to crawl away with some effort. He couldn’t stand just yet, but he had bought time, looking over to the trapped Lumen and accepting Charles.
Only, Charles wasn’t so accepting anymore. His eyes were darting between Lumen and his sister, finally seeing something different now that their lives were at risk, and nothing demanded them to die.
He saw choice and freedom. He saw something to stand for.
Charles, for at least a moment, was rejecting death.
Terrill did not need to call for him.
“You annoying brat! Why won’t you Blessed ones die? It will save you from the hell to come!”
“Hell?” Charles spoke, the first words he could manage to utter coming out in a croak. “We know of hell. I know of the hell you and your Fiends put me through. I accepted it, whatever my fate was to be, knowing that no matter how much I ran, I could not escape it. But…I cannot impose that on others. Not while I have the ability to change it.”
“Huh?” Blaise questioned, and Warren shared in the confounded statement. Then, Blaise roared, his claw lifting from Charles as one of his scales was broken, fire spewing from the wound. Terrill looked to Charles and saw the man with both of his blades, their shadows having cut through.
“Yes, death can be a preferable option, and it will come to all of us, but I will not allow you to take another thing from me. Not while I do still live. And if you wish to die so much, I am happy to oblige! Terrill! Let us fight it!”
“I’ll ensure you never do!” Both of Blaise’s claws descended with his fury, each alighting with crimson. Lumen was unable to move or cut free from Warren’s hold, and Terrill, too, found his body sluggish while the claw aimed to stomp him. Charles held a little more strength and spark, his blades holding back the giant attack, his arms rattling and his muscles rippling, threatening to tear themselves apart. “You Blessed are a curse! Able to live outside the lines! But you cannot escape your sinful nature! Your humanity! I will burn that away!”
Terrill tried to turn over to do as Charles was doing, but there was no time. The claw was already upon him, the joyful snicker on Blaise’s teeth.
It was a grin that did not last long, for a wind came roaring out, hitting the claw like spears that skewered the scales and sent Blaise rearing back, roaring in pain. His spiked tail flung around, crushing the hangar’s walls and causing the astonished people to flee. As he recoiled, Terrill looked up, and saw the man holding the spear, his body shaking with emotional exertion. Chancing a glance back, Terrill could see that he was indeed missing from his spot.
Walter had joined the battle.
“No more…” he breathed, a growling hiss amidst the dying flames. Terrill took his appearance to catch his breath. “No more will you take what’s left… You Fiends… Your King… You stole everything…”
“Master, is that…?”
“Yes, would seem we have a former guest. Now, put those fires out.” The people of Rotarin were mobilizing, but the battle was nowhere near over, even with Walter entering the fray. Chloe’s orders had made certain that they were given the space left to work, even if Blaise left little of that space remaining.
“If you wish to see things burn,” Walter said, raising his voice. A tempest appeared around him, one to unsettle even Warren, who was beginning to lose control of his whip as Lumen tossed himself to the floor and began to roll, avoiding the stampeding hindlegs of Blaise. “I will burn you down with all my hatred! You do not dictate my fate!”
“BURN!” Heedless of his pain, Blaise’s jaw snapped down, and from it, he let loose his torrent of flame. Walter jabbed his spear forward, an orb of compressed wind appearing at its tip. Fire and wind met, the orb turning orange before expanding and, in a great burst of heat, exploding through the chamber. “You have felt hatred! Betrayal! Yet you are not a Fiend for cursing your fate the way we did! Why don’t you Heroes die?!”
Heroes…? Terrill began to think, his eyes widening. Was that it? Was that the way to break fate’s hold in that moment? Something simple as changing the singular to the plural. He knew he’d have to contemplate it later as he fought through the pain to stand. “Walter…”
“You saved me, once,” the hunter spoke, keeping his good eye on Charles as the man shuffled over. There was an unmistakable charge of misgiving, but neither man sought to pursue it in their current situation. “I would be no better than those who inflicted my pain if I did not save you now.”
There was no arguing with that, and no time left for it, anyway. Lumen was still bound, and the citizens of Rotarin were regrouping to douse Blaise’s flames. Some had fled from the collapsing hangar, sheets of metal falling like rain around them. One crashed near Terrill, and one nearly fell on Walter, only for Charles to cut cleanly through it. Neither man acknowledged the action.
“Blaise, calm your tantrum!” Warren’s voice rose above the rancor, straining as he attempted to hold the struggling Lumen back. Said boy had managed to reach his weapons. “Our orders are to reclaim the boy, yet you’re destroying the hangar. He is yet mortal.”
“Then a new vessel can be forged or used! It would not be the first time!”
“And how compatible would that be? Choosing a vessel is not so simple if one is rejected by it.”
“But you said it yourself, Warren,” Blaise growled out, his fangs bared and his body heat raising the temperature of the room significantly. “This is still my choice to make. I will see the world burn, so they can understand how little their goddess cares for them. I’ll raze this entire town!”
“Not on our watch. Stone Wall!” Terrill jabbed his sword forward, his magic spreading out and lifting the concrete up to surround the dragon. A depression was made in the floor, but it was enough to encircle the rampaging Fiend, if not hold him for long. “We need to get them out of here.”
“The longer we stay, the more Blaise is a threat to these people, yes.”
Walter grunted, biting his tongue from saying a disparaging remark towards Charles. Instead, he began to let his eyes do the talking, flicking over to the abandoned skyship as metal and ash fell around it, leaving it exposed to tremendous damage. Outside the hangar were the people of Rotarin, being commanded by Chloe, or marshalled by Daniel. There was no direction to flee in that Blaise would not follow and cause untold damage.
“Then…up is the only way. Are you joining us, Walter?”
The hunter had to take a moment to respond, reaching up to feel the scar over his eye. The air was heavy with the decision he had to make, but no time to make it in when Blaise’s tail sent a crushing fire over their heads, breaking Terrill’s makeshift barricade. “Yes. Yes, it is time I see to my own fate.”
“Then let’s fly. Get that ship started! Leave Lumen to me!”
“Chloe won’t like this…” Charles said with a chuckle. Nevertheless, when part of the hangar wall began to collapse inward, his eyes grew hard and stoic. “Time for a crash course in flying. Sister, forgive me!”
Terrill let them work it out on their own, dashing right for Warren. The still humanoid Fiend turned, receiving a fist across his face and tumbling back. His whip snapped back into a sword, and the two met with steel against steel, sparks grating. Lumen rose to his feet, sword and shield in hand while he looked up to Blaise, now regaining his senses with snarling, smoking nostrils. Terrill broke off with Warren, who lifted a finger. “Stream!”
“Shield!” Lumen stepped in within seconds. As soon as the laser-like water fired, Lumen’s projection of light erected itself and blocked the attack, allowing Terrill to spin with an uppercut that slashed straight up Warren’s chest. Water erupted from it, splashing the floor beneath their feet. “Should we finish them?”
“That wound won’t be enough to finish Warren, and I don’t want to deal with two Fiendish forms at once.” Terrill spun his sword, glancing back to see that Walter and Charles were nearly at the skyship, Charles pausing to beckon them. “Time to fly.”
“Fly? Are we seriously-?” Terrill used his free hand to grip Lumen’s wrist and began to drag him along. Warren and Blaise were irrelevant. With Rotarin at risk, all that mattered was the flight, the two bounding over metal and melted substances to reach the ramp where Charles awaited them. Lumen was up first, running headlong up the incline. Terrill set his own foot on it when the skyship shuddered, not from the destructing hangar, but from the guttural churn of an engine and the thrum of electricity.
Like an act of magic that was not magic, Terrill saw the propellors begin to turn, rotating rapidly. The skyship hummed with harmony and beauty, but not one Terrill could admire. Nor could Charles, looking across the way to his sister.
“You’re sure about this, Charles? I didn’t think you’d change your mind so easily.”
“No, I don’t think I did. I just believed it was finally time to be a Guardian. I, too, have things to protect.” His grin indicated that his burden was not lighter, but he had made a decision, one that Terrill hoped Walter wouldn’t test once they were free. Blaise was almost finished recovering, his cunning eyes zeroed in on their quartet and means to escape. The fire was building in his maw. “Chloe, I’ll protect your passion! Bring it home! But I’m afraid we’ll need it, after all!”
Chloe, able to hear her brother, tapped her cane with a scoff. “Just bring it back in one piece, fool of a brother. Rotarin will still be here waiting.”
“I’ve no doubt of that. Terrill, let’s go.”
“And fast.” Terrill made one more stop as the fire jetted out. It battered against Terrill’s newest wall, melting the earth as the last two of their troupe dashed up the ramp and into the cabin of the skyship. It was a tighter fit, with only nine seats, including the pilot’s, and little room for anything else but the stairs that climbed to the deck up top. Terrill could see through the entrance that Blaise was stepping over his shield, and Warren was quick to recover. “Walter, can you fly this thing?”
“The steering design is similar to a ship,” Walter said. He was more than a little frazzled by the buttons and lights on a console next to the wheel that would steer the ship. “It’s the altitude part I’m concerned about, and whatever we need to make it go.”
“What about this thing?” Lumen said, pointing to a lever that appeared to move in all directions. As he played with it, a noise from the wings emanated in the cabin, and when he pressed a small switch attached to the lever, the engine throttled, overpowering the sound of flames. It couldn’t overpower the crushing footfalls of Blaise or the fire to come.
“I think you might be right.”
“Whatever it is, we need to go now, or this will become an oven from which there is no return,” Charles said, putting a hand on Walter’s shoulder. The younger man did not appreciate it, scowling, but he held to the new lever all the same. Animosity would have to be put on hold.
“Then you’d all best hold on. Let us take this fight with the Fiends to the sky.”
With those words, Walter jammed forward on the lever, pushing the button in. The engines groaned, filled with more life than anything Terrill had heard. This was more than the Wind Fortress returning to the sky, but the combination of all humanity’s hopes and dreams, and the very ship that would carry them into battle with the least human creatures of all. The skyship jolted, and Terrill could feel his bones rattle, his stomach defying gravity, all while the ship turned, its nose pointing up towards the smoke and star-filled sky. With one more press, the engines ignited into an accelerated blaze. Gravity pulled Terrill downward, and he grasped to Lumen and Charles, careful to not fall out of the ship.
With a burst of man-made fire that shot for the stratosphere, the very first skyship took flight, and the new era began.