The echoing scraping of the feathered pen contouring letter after letter onto the parchment stabbed into Terrianis’s pondering mind like cold, thin needles as he read through the report that was carried by the silent yet visible anxious draevhen girl just a few decades older than Aurelithae with her long radiant golden hair bundled into an oval bun at the back.
Terrianis occasionally looked up at her questioningly though before words could have left her gleaming wide lips his glinting prismatic stern eyes wandered back to the piece of rolled, sallow paper while the feathered pen scraping his title onto the spire of rolled out scrolls halted then waited as they slipped out from the top down to the bottom while the spire rose in the air for a moment.
“So they could not stop him from leaving the city?” Terrianis blurted out while rassling with the scorching that threw his patience into disarray. Written on the paper – tremulously penned by the magistratoriar of Voragoith, the northern colonial capital – were the report on Eadwald escaping from the grasp of the legionariir just beneath another his eyes skimmed through.
“I am afraid so my Elhyrissiar. He slipped out during the night with the aid of the half-aevhe known across the colonies as a wandering painter.” She answered in a meek voice then went immediately silent when Terrianis’s piercing and frustration poisoned look focused onto her frail, delicate form hugged by a dress sewn with a collar of peculiar flowery strokes.
Terrianis leaned forward while carefully placing the paper onto the table with his trembling hands then took a deep breath. “Well, what to do now?” The feathered pen stopped as its scraping noise got replaced by the clank of his prismatic claw tips beating rhythmically against the glossy oaken table as he turned his attention towards the window filtering the inflowing light of the Illius.
“We can’t really count on those fools.” When his gaze returned to the table, to a piece of scrolls bearing the sigil of the Draennith Praetoriir’s Wing of Heavens, he halted the flow of his words while he came to a realization. “Call for Augermil, his wish shall be granted.” A bit confused the draevhe daughter of his bowed deeply and hurriedly left while piece of rolled paper emanating a sickly sweet odor flew into his hand.
**
Isocrates laid in his bed throwing a sewn ball filled with small pebbles of white and black while the mesmerizing face of Rhenathorhia and the dusky priestess who accompanied him on their visit to the headquarters lingered in his mind even after a week has passed.
A cavalcade of feelings formed wicked tendrils which dug deep into his mind. Ever since he first laid eyes upon Luelia, ever since his heart skipped a beat upon smelling her tantalizing rosy scent which like the vines of carnivorous plants wrapped around his nose and remained firmly, he strongly believed he would never grow such attachments to another until he laid eyes upon the two.
He could also feel a chill creeping up on his spine, occasionally shivering his whole body as a warning that he should not dwell on these feelings and should just forget the two. Yet he could not do so, to the point that he often came out from a stupor and just realized that he had been talking about the two with Shigeaith and some of the other servuothii while his desires to become a veneficiir of the legion dispersed as a strong gust of wind hit it like rising smoke.
These thoughts though had to wait as Isocrates realized that dawn swiftly approached as the dim room of theirs slowly brightened as the amber and mauve hues painted the deep chestnut and alabaster colored walls. He exhaled deeply while closing his eyes for a moment, then sprang out from under the soft embrace of the sheets and started dressing up in his loose, coarse uniform of his bearing a deep burgundy shade.
“You could not sleep either?” To his surprise he found Shigeaith awake in his bed with dark bluish circles embedded into his silverish skin. “Not at all.” He answered while slipping into the tunic.
Shigeaith rose from the bed and let out a tired sigh. “It shall be a long day.” He said in a raspy tone. “I hope they visit.” Once more Isocrates’s body twitched upon hearing those tired words coming from a face plastered with vain hope.
**
Augermil’s shadow melded in with the blackening spot spreading far at the center of the street, breaking the faultless alabaster blanketed in the soft shadows of the rustling trees and the towering houses of angular proportions. The wheeling of his thoughts smothering the cacophony of the crowd kept at bay by the golden legionariir of the 1st Legion, his eyes focused on the corpses littering the closed off area.
People of all kinds, of all ages laid motionless on the black spot, their blood converged into one myriad colored spiral like paint on a blank canvas. Their vacant eyes seemingly glaring at his towering form casting its gallant shadow onto them, their expression just as varied as them with some harboring resentment, anger, sorrow while those with alluring features and almost matching colorful robes gloating with triumphant empty looks.
Yet in his minds’ eye he saw nothing else but the events unfolding on the chilly morning of his patron’s mate judging and maintaining the change and flow of time. He watched as the figures appeared from the houses surrounding him, casting their own shadow onto his hulking form, carrying daggers, swords and various other weapons as they joined in with the busy flock.
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The event swiftly unfolded, puzzling many as shrieks rang through the murmuring of the streets and people fell like stringless puppets discarded by their master, deep wounds on their throats from which their blood flowed burst forth, swords and axes found their way into heads, splitting open flesh and bone, spells of a sulfurous odor found their target’s snuffing life slowly out of them in the form of rouge flames that made them shriek and giggle like madman.
Brave gilded legionariir rushed not long after the nightmare began, yet they were seemingly halted when they looked upon their enemies whose alluring visages enchanted them, and some joined amongst the common folk while the more erudite, trained ones shook away the enchantment and unleashed their fury upon the cultists.
Though most seemingly died, except one of gleaming dark skin, a beautiful woman of the Yhanubj tribe of humans who unlike the others wore clothing seen only on the pious magusos of the Order of Maghiath’s Truth, a two piece robe with one loosely draping her slender body, while a second deeper layer ran across her shoulder while a white veil cascaded over her head.
Even the best amongst these legionariir fell to her charms and gladly slit their own throats without hesitation, giving her the chance to tear a whirlpool of arkhaine energies of a vibrant blue and mauve into reality and step through it leaving behind the carnage as her only mark just as Augermil arrived and his winged mount unleashed the flames which left their mark upon the ground before he too leapt down and mowed the remaining cultists.
Whilst the vision faded, a whirlpool danced and tore reality, blurring the gilded and crimson back of the legionariir forming a disciplined wall and at once Albron stepped through it brandishing his blade before reaching out his right arm to greet Augermil. “Was this all of them?”
Augermil shook his head. “Most died to the legionariir while a few remaining got incinerated by the flames while their leader got away through a portal.” His eyes lit up with an arkhaine glow and focused where the alluring woman disappeared through a portal
“What?” Albron asked calmly as he noticed the puzzled look on Augermil. “She is in the Evligmaeoroth Cathedralii”
**
Isocrates and Shigeaith slowly tore through the people screaming questions, curses aimed at either the unknown enemy or the custodiir, legionariir and the praetoriir who swore ages ago to protect the peace of the capital. Some even tried to hurl pebbles and various objects on them towards the line of legionariir with little to no success as even those pieces that flew high above them bounced off the invisible ward.
The two out for their dinner were allured to the scene of the battle by people spreading knowledge of the recent attack and by the waned scent of sulfurous death. Without uttering words Isocrates was dragged by hand across the maze like streets by the curious Shigeaith who believed they could get across and aid their fellow comrades. Isocrates himself believed otherwise, that they shall be sent away as they were nothing more than errand boys.
These beliefs of his quickly shattered upon hearing Augermil calling out to the legionariir to let them through and he stared mystified when he saw the two draevhe in contrasting armors towering over all others except for the majestic winged mount of Augermil. For a few moments timed seemed to slow down then the third time his name left Augermil’s slim lips he rushed past the opening with Shigeaith in toe.
“Hold on for a moment.” Augermil said as the two youth reached them and he stood trembling from anxiety as the few cutodiir inspecting the scene halted in their work and stared at them judgingly and with a hint of envy. “Wha…?”
Suddenly both their trained forms was stroked across by aethereal lines and pain and despair slithered through their whole body and out of their facial orifices in the form of gilded black smoke. “Bear with it!” Augermil ordered in a kindly manner while the two toiled on their knees while in tears from both less than desirable sensation.
As the last of the taint left their soul and body, they slowly rose and thanked the elderly dragon praetor even though they had no clue what just happened, except that they felt something missing which hurt as if they lost one of their limbs.
Whilst the sensation waned, Isocrates looked up and noticed Augermil pondering. “Young Aeson, I’ve seen you haven’t wasted my recommendation – mostly – but say as much as I’d like to hear how you fare, I must ask have you not seen a dusky woman of exceptional beauty recently dressed in clothing akin to the more pious members of the Order?” He asked slowly seeing that Isocrates still struggled with the strange loss of his.
Instinctively he wanted and began to shake his head, but he stopped as he recalled the visit from Rhenathorhia and the woman he spoke of. “We did last week at the headquarters with one of your kin my lord.”
“I see. Seems things are even more dire than I thought.” Gloom descended onto Augermil as he turned to Albron. “Was she responsible for the carnage here?” Isocrates asked while knowing the answer which was further confirmed by both draevhe nodding their heads.
“I know it may be bold of me to request, but could I accompany you once more my lord?” Albron watched and he unconsciously smiled at the blind bravery of the young man whom was dressed in garments of slave rank of the legion.
“I am afraid this time the danger is greater. Just stay safely to your directive of day. Though I can assure you, she shall pay and won’t cause anymore terror.”
“My lords, once more excuse my manner, but I believe I proved myself to be capable.” Both draeve looked slightly puzzled, then Augermil stroked his temples.
Albron’s gaze changed to amused and he decided to interject as he finally recognized the boy. “If you fear for his safety I can watch over him. Plus an extra muscle may come in handy against pesky company.”
“You just want to see if he is as capable as bold?” Augermil let out a sibilant sigh as Albron nodded in confirmation. “Fine. But the glory of taking her head is mine.”
“Fine by me.” Albron answered with an honest smile.
“May I come too?” Shigeaith asked with a slightly tremulous tone as he finally mustered his strength while facing two of his icons. “Sure, though I may not guarantee your safety.”
“No need to, I have been trained since I was this little.” He said while still trembling with his arms stretched downwards to almost his knee.
Once more a whirlpool tore itself into reality, Augermil walked to his graceful winged mount and caressed his long jaw. “Keep to the skies friend.” The four stepped through then the whirlpool closed while the shadows softened as the firmament lightened in tint and brilliance.