Snow gritted beneath their feet as Eadwald and Azugh hurried their steps across the sloping acreage stretching between Vonschneithar and the ghastly verge of the woodland. The two of them slowed down to quench their thirst; warm their bodies as a strong current swept through the land. Within a few seconds they caught up to Priernuss and Ashnan nearing where the shadows lengthened beyond the hanging, bony branches appearing less morose in the brilliant, warm glow of the noon. Still a foreboding sensation settled on the four peering into the far stretching woodland where a dim ambiance ruled unabated.
“Strange to witness the peacefulness of this land.” Priernuss murmured as Eadwald stood beside him, noticing the half-aevhe’s gaze fixated on the distance which filled him still with dread.
“Couldn’t agree more.” Ashnan commented just as the roar of Jaculus and another dragon reverberated through the skies, followed by distant, warped screams and the rage of consuming flames spread by the cold winds brushing their faces veiled by the shadows of their enameled, snow-white helmets.
Then as they turned around the wind picked up and tore into their faces as the roars of dragons neared towards them. The two great beasts of the skies and astral seas landed quite elegantly for their beastly façade, with Jaculus landing closer towards the little group. “Uncle, this time I want a stronger golem if possible.” Eadwald’s question was a bit abrupt, but Priernuss figured out what prompted the youth as he turned his attention towards the tremors created by Augermil whose massive form landed eloquently just a few meters away from them.
Behind him followed Cassiel, a young aevhe with an equally stalwart form bathing in the brilliant shadow of Augermil’s hulking silhouette with long, raven black hair of silken locks tumbling down her gilded panoply; shimmering eyes of a mesmerizing azure like the skies hovering above the grasslands of the south – one whose mere presence prompted Eadwald to straighten his posture and appear vigilant as he took small, faux glances at the woodland as if he expected danger to strike at a moment’s notice.
“Sure thing.” Priernuss answered feeling quite amused by witnessing this side of Eadwald. Feeling a bit relieved as it seemed the pain which he had hidden vanished seemingly when the two first met a few days after their arrival.
**
Eadwald shivered as the cold wind brushed against him, the soft snow flakes falling from the overcast clouds swiveled down onto his clammy face and shoulders exposed. Though it only registered faintly in his mind as he continued out maneuvering the golem’s strikes aimed at his abdomen and right shoulder. His arms still ached from the four hits they braced with dark purplish marks painted upon them after the hardened mud and ice fists of the golem retracted when it noticed him changing his posture, aiming to go on the counter offensive.
“Not bad.” Augermil murmured as he watched from the distance, his reptilian small eyes glowing eerily. He watched the flow of mana Eadwald regulated adroitly, focusing more on protection rather than restoration like most folk walking the path of a warrior. Even he himself in the past chose spells which hardened his skin and did not pick up dawn spells of the restorative kind until the War of the Seven Siblings broke out where it was a necessity against the undead, nekrossus and Aydvroeghus they all faced in numbers not even seen during the Great Schism when their darker cousins broke away from the fold.
Though he witnessed thousands upon thousands fighting for their lives; improving their techniques either for the sake of survival or simply because they enjoyed the thrills of battle, Augermil still stirred with a mild case of excitement watching another of The Almodo’s chosen. One still in the early stages where they have little awareness of the possibilities brought by the essence which predates all existence, the essence which birthed the primordial beings and the Deossos. Witnessing the start of one of His chosen’s growth towards greatness beyond any could dream off was a rare occurrence, even for him whom lived through seven millennia and thousands of battles.
“He is a quick learner.” Priernuss said as they watched Eadwald duck down, evading the approaching fist aimed at his jaw after he lowered his locked arms, ready to go on the offensive. “They are. I remember Anshur – one of His previous chosen – mastering the flames of Promethean in less then two months whilst it took me half a century.”
The memory of Anshur leading the charge of the first legionariir against the dreaded horde of twilight comprising orkhin whose once fair form was grizzled by the maleficent techniques of Dusk; their cousins who broke away and settled into a cold realm; dead bound to the will of the Grim Sovereign led by so called Death’s Hunger – the offspring of the Watcher of the Wheel, the primordial titan of Dusk and little brother of the Nightscale. A demigiant with myriad maws all snapping and growling endlessly on a hairless, featureless pale body. And in his step a shadow followed, viciously swallowing the light of the sun and The Flames of Promethean dancing on Anshur’s body as he leapt high into the air, his voice breaking through the cacophony of the battle on the withered vista.
“Though they can also be quite reckless.” He added recalling the mild dread he felt on that day as the blood of his kin tainted his once fair form clad in dimmed golden panoply. “Is he the first you met before reaching heights beyond the mundane?” Priernuss asked, well aware that the elderly draevhe witnessed far more than any other including his own brother the Elhyrissiar who once walked the lands of Elhyrissian before he ascended into his status.
Augermil nodded. “Aye, I met quite a few of his chosen, even before the day I was embraced into flock of my eternal, solemn Mistress.” He relapsed into silence. “Nemetoria, was her name I remember. Quite the beauty she was and with a heart of gold as she often spent months hunting wild mandrakes, razing goblin camps even knowing that her time was fleeting compared to ours. It does make me wonder though whether He chooses them based on their nature or they simply blossom into valorous personages.”
“It may be bold of me to say this, but I firmly believe he chooses them instead of nurturing them into heroes of the annals.” Priernuss commented with an unwavering conviction. “Eadwald himself proven his valor and bravery many times even before he grew into the man he is today, before he faced the nekromancer in Vhoragos.” The corners of his long, sloping lips curved hearing the endorsement of the youth. “Though he definitely needs a bit of guidance as his bravery borders on foolishness.”
“Well, I believe we were all like that at the same point of our lives. A time when we all believed we were invincible no matter what menace lurked in our shadows or towered before ourselves.” Priernuss agreed silently as he folded his arms and trembled with a cold thrill as the golem shattered into a thousand pieces, from its quickly crumbling form an arkhaine mist of translucent blues flown out and chaotically blown into a shapeless mass hovering in the air before it returned into him, making him whole once more.
“How did I fare?” Eadwald asked lightly wheezing from the elongated bout, his voice trembling with excitement as he awaited the evaluation of the elderly praetor and Priernuss.
“Hmm, stance was a bit uneven. An undead may behave like a golem, but any other may strike at your legs so I would redistribute the strengthening there whilst layering a restoration spell onto the arms.” He said in a kind tone, Priernuss nodding along whilst also pointing out Eadwald’s tendency to take the brunt of the hits instead of trying to evade all of them. Eadwald took mental notes whilst connecting the lingering iuboron matter in the air and forcing them onto his beaten arms and shoulders.
He folded his arms and looked contemplating at Eadwald whose arms quickly healed up as motes of dawn golden floated playfully towards the blue and purple marks. “Maybe it is a great leap, but what would you say we do quick bout?”
**
Amiriniel and Sigi sat silently at the center of their homestead’s garden, their legs crossed, their hands on their knees as the ivory clouds began rinsing snow upon the two whilst Mirdbruil circled silently around them, watching intently. As she stopped, she peered through the layers of reality, watched as her children’s mana slowly poured out from their arkhaine points in the astral section adjacent to their arms and legs and began slithering towards their palms and soles facing the sky and the ground. “Do not hasten it Sigi.” She called out to him as she noticed the etheric line of pure natural matter moving with a rapidity, coated in psioron matter.
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Though the two could already attune their minds on a subconscious level, they could only maintain this state for a few seconds before the two’s thoughts began to collide and recoil creating a headache that effected their brains. A result which scared her when she witnessed their eyes and noses bleeding not just blood but even grey matter which could have had dire results if not for her timely restoration laced with a reversing spell. Regardless since that incident she had been vigilant and vehement on the slower pace forced mostly on Sigi who proved a quick learner thanks to the gift of the dark eye which seemed to not just allow a natural peerage into the layer where particles floated unseen, but also granted an insight and understanding into taming these primeval particles and the nature of spells.
Not to say that Amiriniel herself was a slow learner, but as she matured slower than her younger siblings, she had a more patient attitude regarding the pace of her studies. She spent more time studying, reading the various tomes brought by the wandering merchants than in actual practice beyond these few hours they spent either at the training grounds or here at their home. And her slight envy made this situation a bit more bearable as she sensed the mild frustration emanating from Sigi whose will now focused on fluctuating the mana at the end of his astral limbs. Then he let out a sigh when he sensed her collected mana reaching their destinations.
As the familiar sensation of a quiet thrill curved their lips as their minds connected and an immediate, shared clarity formed from the bonding of their minds. Like every other time, they lost themselves in the moment, curled their fingers at the same time playfully, using their shared mana to lift some snow up and hurl it against each other’s cheeks. And as the soft coldness brushed against their cheeks, they both chuckled with perfectly synced intonations and volume. Mirdbruil watched feeling an unfamiliar weight loosen over her heart as she listened to their soft chuckles before she focused their minds with her next set of order.
“Now attune your minds.” Beneath them, the ground lowly grumbled as the frozen blackness arose from beneath the powder soft snow taking the vague shape of a man than an aevhe in a set of panoply matching the village guard’s and the 19th Legion’s. It bowed before them with a playful courtesy, then made a few rounds before it crumbled down and the whirling energies which belonged to the siblings returned into them in a chaotic, shapeless state.
“Now, with this today’s lecture is over. Let’s head inside before your brother returns.” Sigi aided Amiriniel as she stumbled a little whilst getting onto her feet, disturbed by a mild arkhaine nausea that followed the torn-out parts of her will. Sigi remained behind and stared at the Illius as it began its self-alteration, its bright colors shifting to a taciturn silver whilst the sky all around it blackened menacingly. A cold, unnerving draught brushed against his face, awakening his instincts to return to the warm confines of his home.
**
“Hmm, where are you heading?” Eadwald questioned Sigi as he passed before their home with Augermil and Aelfsigior, heading down towards the inn. All three still donned in their armor, their weapons at their sides as if they were marching for war rather than to alleviate their tired bodies and minds from the woes of the day.
“Meeting up with Azugh and Uncle Gna.” He replied nonchalantly whilst tugging his arms into the sleeves of thick fur coat which collar wrapped around his neck.
“Be careful out there!” Eadwald yelled after him as the sky began to darken, the Illius phased into its bright, pallid silver state. Sigi strode at the center of the village, his legs still a bit numb from the long sitting during their practice. Occasionally he stopped, feeling tired from lifting his feet from the swallowing slush and took small peeks at the robust edifices’ windows emanating a homely, warm gleam as the shadows thickened. Still, he brimmed with excitement.
Excitement begot from the prospect of venturing beyond the gates of Vonschneithar. One that he felt a bit embarrassed about when he became aware of it, but he shrugged his shoulders and continued his way until at the arch he noticed Gna, Azugh and Shad’Yrg waiting for him. As soon as the three turned he waved at them with a wide mirth and picked up his pace. “You know you need not have to rush Sigi.” Shad said with smile of terrifying proportions thanks to her sunken, deathly lineaments – except for Sigi and the villagers as they saw past old grudges and or simply grew accustomed to it.
“I think he was just excited.” Azugh said in his friends’ defense who was still breathing out mist mimicking subconsciously a dragon vomiting a swirling torrent of flames.
As they passed under the moaning gate, Sigi stopped. An unwholesome wave swept through him, carrying the stench of night – a sensation which felt familiar yet he could not place it in his mind. The phenomenon lasted no longer than a few seconds, as he continued forward with a renewed vigor, walking besides Azugh.
**
“Thank you for this delicious supper.” Augermil said mirthfully, his gaze turned towards Mirdbruil sitting across her amidst their camp.
“It is the least I could do.” She answered half meeting his gaze with mendacious smile.
“How old is she? If you don’t mind the question.” Augermil asked seeing through her, averting his gaze towards little Amiriniel conversing with two of his aides and the great Ladon, a dragon older and greater in size than Jaculus with more distinctive feather like growths ornamenting its near gargantuan form.
“Nearing her sixties by now.” She answered honestly as she cast her mirthful gaze at her daughter whose golden eyes glistened in the dimly lit surroundings as she gently stroked the horned chin of Ladon. Then turned back towards Augermil whilst letting out a sigh, forcing out her prejudices, worries that ailed her for the past few months in regards of the future, the future of her children.
“May I ask why you consume no alcohol like your fellows?” Though in the end she could not overcome the admiration accumulated throughout the ages of listening to the throngs of tales carried word by word for centuries, several millennia by the aevhen bards and artists. Instead, this mundane question left her lips noticing of the keg in his hands emanating a mesmerizing fruity scent.
Augermil even cracked up abruptly at the question, but when silent as quickly. “There was a time many a millennia ago when I myself indulged in the dulling joys of alcohol, but after the War of the Siblings – I refrained as they dulled not just my woes or my senses but it poisoned my memory of those I lost. There are still hundreds whose names and voices I could no longer recall.”
“Is there a necessity for that?” Mirdbruil inquired. “Excuse my question.”
“As a chosen of my mistress, I believe so wholeheartedly.” He gazed into the crackling flame vanquishing the dark as he relapsed into silence. “When my time comes to join them, I want to tell them their sacrifices were not in vain, that their duty was honorable and aided in the good of the realm.”
“A noble thought.” Mirdbruil uttered lowly. “Though I believe our duties should end in life, otherwise wouldn’t we be stepping onto the delirious shadow of the twilight’s king?”
“This may sound heretical as I am the last relic of those times, but his shadow was more… unveiling, suggestive to the secrets and truths of our reality.” Augermil said in a low voice, nearing towards a whisper of the wind. “Though it is a damning knowledge, as I owe more to it than to my own talents.” His gaze grew distant as he became aware of an eerie silence; the foreboding wind carrying a scent familiar yet one slipping under the hem of oblivion.
Similarly, Mirdbruil and the dragons felt the approach and sensed the prima materia of Dusk marching high above the camp, the village. “Stay here. Tertiupil, Marcus stay by Amiriniel’s side!” Augermil quickly rose onto his feet and issued his orders just as Ladon rose in tandem and shielded Amiriniel from the forming spell above them. The two praetors unsheathed their weapons and stood in alert as they became aware of the small noises around them.
“What about Sigi? He is near the woodland.” Realization washed over her and Mirdbruil turned towards Augermil while channeling her mana. “Favonia and Vopiscus are hovering there. But I shall make my way there.” Augermil with blade in hand began to walk towards Jaculus whose gaze focused in the darkness beyond their camp. His slit nostrils smelled the rotten scent of the undead nearing rapidly.
His roar broke the tender silence of the night as the flames of dawn torrented from his throat. Warped shrieks reverberated, awakening the village folk in their homes as the flames latched onto the shrouded undead whom crumbled as the holy particles cleansed away the binding taint.
They all turned their attentions away from the undead as the roar of spells clashing against each other followed the cacophony of dragons and undead. They watched as the swirling sphere of fluid darkness exploded like a water balloon spreading its ethereal muck onto the now visible barrier, eroding its translucent dawn golden wall. Ethereal glow reflected in their perturbed eyes as the barrier crumbled and the undead’s warped cries of battle echoed through the alighted gloom.