When you wake up, I want you to know that you were complaining for hours about ‘not missing a day’, so I wrote today’s journal entry down for you instead. You started the morning forgetting that we were supposed to have breakfast together (which was rude), and proceeded to stuff your face with bread until the sixth moon rose into the sky.
Then you had me bring your notes to you— by foot I might add— while you were busy directing half of our hallowmancers on your project.
But then you came home and brought me bluestars in apology, and I forgave you. You made a terrible dinner tonight, but I still ate it. I hope you have sweet dreams, Arni.
-From The Recently Deciphered Notes of King Arneshal, 6th Grouping
Dolish wanted the day to end already. Many of his soldiers and Bladeborn had been deployed to the northern ends of the camp, and he guided them along with his Commander field in their tasks.
Don’t put the fruits in the boxes. They’ll spoil sooner. We can eat them on the way.
Put the tents and their poles in the same box. We might need to quickly unpack them.
Such orders flowed from his mind as he wondered what he would do next. Birralia needed to be investigated, and he needed to ask the minister there for his account of the conflict Yennel had been involved in.
Eval’s birthday may have passed, but Dolish wanted to pick up a present for his boy on the way home. Then, there was the paperwork and relocation of the soldiers…
Dolish rubbed the bridge of his nose. It seems I’ve underestimated the enormity of the tasks before me. But he’d be able to handle those. Without the tension of a war to fuss over, Dolish was free to worry about other things.
The last of the boxes piled up into a cart, and Dolish ordered the Afterburners to take it away. If no one was using the carriages, it was better to use them for transport anyway. He looked to the skies; how dark they’d gotten without his realization.
Looking back to his soldiers, he found faintness and sluggishness among them. Perhaps he’d pushed them too hard this time, and they’d be feeling the sores later.
All of you are dismissed. Go back to your lodges and get your rest. We have an early morning tomorrow for more work.
He saw the waves of annoyance and exasperation from their spirits, and chuckled inwardly.
Lighter work than today, I promise. He let them know, and a few of them paled in embarrassment. A few more orders later, most of the soldiers had retreated back to camp. Dolish waited in the now open field, until the carriage he’d sent away landed at his feet.
He sent a single order of his destination to the Afterburner, then deactivated his field. Dolish climbed up the wooden steps of the carriage and sat inside, feeling then the ache in his bones. He’d done nothing more than stand around shouting orders, and he was this tired? How old had he gotten?
He looked down at his wrinkled hands anew, confirming. Much too old, he conceded. He should be looking for someone to take his position by now, he supposed, but that could wait until the Lieutenant General was dealt with.
The Afterburners landed Dolish on the top of the stronghold, where he saw other carriages and their retinue of Afterburners stationed. He climbed out of his own and walked alongside ministers and army men and women.
Tonight’s meeting with the Armon would encompass many of their duties, which explained the reasoning behind how many there were. Dolish wished he brought his honour guard along, but seeing the Bladeborn lining the halls and keeping guard, he felt at peace. Even with a traitor in the building.
They walked around a procession of guards and workers, who were clearing out the belongings of His Sharpness delicately. They placed paintings inside of boxes and rolled up carpets. It made Dolish hopeful. Shann, Eval, wait for me just a bit longer won’t you?
He looked ahead of the line of ministers, seeing Yennel’s head poking out between them. The man looked piteous, constantly checking his surroundings and wearing fake smiles as he greeted the rest of them. When Dolish passed him by, he ignored the hand Yennel held out for him, and walked into the war room.
The war room had been expanded to accompany tonight’s meeting, it seemed. The centre table, along with its map, was no more. In its place were concentric circles of chairs and tables that expanded from the centre of the room. Only a single pathway led in and out, and in its place was a single podium.
Dolish looked around for familiar sights. His Sharpness was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Merin. He did find Amarna, however, and Minister Ayshara beside her. It seemed the woman was discussing a matter that Amarna found utterly boring, as the old woman simply nodded along to Ayshara’s ramblings.
Once Amarna spotted Dolish, she silently pleaded for his help. Dolish nodded, moving towards the both of them.
“Ah, General Venastian!” Amarna said with a flourish that made Ayshara stop.
“Oh, General, you’re here! I was wondering if I could request a copy of those translations you made?” Ayshara asked him.
“As you wish, Minister. I’ll have it deli-”
“I need two hundred, actually,” Ayshara amended.
“I will try to have it delivered to your estate as soon as I can,” Dolish promised her. He took a seat beside the two women, waiting for the Armon to arrive.
“What do you suppose Yennel’s thinking right now?” Amarna asked. The Lieutenant General had walked in and taken a seat to the opposite of the room. He held his hands up in front of him, hiding his face.
“Nothing good. Keep your eyes open for whoever he’s speaking to,” Dolish replied.
The Armon entered moments later, with his son following in tow. Merin took a seat near the edge of the room, and looked to have woken only recently. His hair wasn’t combed right, and he blinked his eyes every so often. People shuffled in fast after His Sharpness, taking their seats until the entire room was filled. Bladeborn lined the walls on each side, staring ahead like the good soldiers they were.
“I apologize for the timing of today’s meeting, but no other time was suitable,” the Armon began. His speech continued and Dolish kept his eye squared on Yennel. the Lieutenant General caught his eye but turned away immediately after. Unhallowed Coward.
“For those of you who think we shouldn’t leave the battlefield, you can lodge your complaints after we’ve returned. Right now, I want all of you focused on setting up the retreat,” the Armon told to the people there. A few grunts and groans rose, but none dared to speak against the Armon.
Dolish looked over to his fellow General, Renolt, and was surprised to find him calm. He would’ve thought, given Renolt’s allegiance, the man would be outraged. Instead, he carved one his wooden figurines, looking up only to acknowledge His Sharpness before continuing.
Even Yennel, who should’ve been devastated by the loss, simply watched in the same pose, static. His eyes didn’t move, and he kept his gaze squarely on the Armon, only glancing over at Merin a few times.
The Armon entertained a few questions and queries, mostly about the logistics of the retreat, but even he looked tired by the end of it. Hours of talk about shipments and where each Bladeborn would be assigned had the entire room feeling lethargic. By the end of it, they were glad for the fresh air to be let out.
Dolish looked through a singular reinforced window, finding the sun rising. He twisted around his lazy joints and sat up in his seat. The Armon, noticing the light, sighed into his hand.
“That’s enough for today. All of you are dismissed for the rest of the day. I expect progress reports regularly,” he said, dismissing the meeting. He walked off of the stage, accompanied by the Bladeborn in his honour guard. Merin sat up lazily from his chair and followed, and the double doors leading into the room opened.
The ministers and Generals seemed to regain a bit of their energy, rushing out of the room to spread out among the halls of the Armon’s stronghold. Dolish followed the stream of people, until he and Amarna were standing outside by themselves. Minister Fersh, a portly man with thick arms and rolled up sleeves, moved up to Dolish.
“General.”
“Minister.”
“I… heard about your encounter with one of your Devourers?” Fersh asked.
“The Katar boy?”
“Yes, that one!”
“Demoted. It was a pity, since he seemed a strong young man,” Dolish said offhandedly.
“About that, General. I’ve a request to make,” Fersh asked.
“A request, for a soldier?” Dolish replied. The minister would have his own guards, obviously, but what did he need with an unrelated Devourer?
“He took care of my boy, General. Fezashi wanted me to ask you if you could do anything to lighten his punishment? A stupid request, I’d told him, but what can you do about children?” Fersh told him.
A request from… a kid?
“How old is your son, Minister?” Dolish asked.
“Twelve. Children that age have idealistic dreams, don’t they?”
Dolish looked over to Merin, who was speaking to his father still. Even Eval asked him the impossible sometimes. Yet Dolish did it all the same.
“It’s a common thing to ask all fathers, Minister. I’ll look into what I can do for Rozu,” Dolish said. Fersh gave him a slight bow, slow and respectful, before leaving.
Guards started to crowd into the hallway, and Dolish felt the entire room congesting. He should leave. There was work to be done and frankly, Dolish felt sluggish in the mind. He could use the rest.
Rubbing his eyes, he didn’t notice until someone bumped into him from behind. Dolish looked at the young man, and found some oddities on his face. There was something about his eyes… They were… sharp.
“Dolish!” Amarna shouted.
A knife shined from his pocket and Dolish raised his hands. The blade was too quick, slicing a finger off of his hand before Dolish could reinforce his body. The man smiled wickedly, like he was relishing the wound.
All around the room violence exploded. Dolish grappled the man with his arms, kicking his feet under him. He knocked the assassin onto the ground, placing his foot atop his back. But the assassin, he kept smiling.
His smile changed, and his face along with it. Features twisted, the colour of his hair lightened to a blonde, and his sharp eyes grew even sharper. This wasn’t a guard at all.
A Phasgorian Devourer?
Dolish glanced around and found the entire room in chaos. People’s features twisted and changed, revealing Phasgorians all among them waiting to pounce. They slit the throats of several ministers and Generals. Renolt, Ayshara, Shannara. All of them mundane, all of them unhallowed.
They fell limply onto the floor gushing blood, and Dolish panicked. The Bladeborn guards they had sprung into action, but were quickly being ganged up on. There was only a dozen or so of the attackers, but the cramped space made it hard to attack them.
Dolish flared his Commander aura instinctively, feeling the panic double as he sensed it anew. He caught sight of some guards escorting the remaining ministers away, and the Armon he could see was being carried by his honour guard.
Good, His Sharpness is safe. Now…
“MERIN!” Dolish heard a blood curdling scream, coming from His Sharpness himself. Merin! How could he forget about the young General!
He breathed in deeply, then slammed the face of his attacker into the carpeted floor. The soft mat might’ve helped, had Dolish not used enough strength to crack the floor. The man was knocked out, so Dolish left him there. He needed to find Merin, and quickly.
He heard another shout, from Amarna this time. She was at the end of the hallway, facing off with a slow approaching pursuer. She was backing off, holding a talwar at her side for defense while one arm bled.
Over here, fool. He stimulated the Devourer’s curiosity, forcing him to turn around and face Dolish. He brought out his dagger and parried the Devourer’s slash, punching him in the face with his other hand. He dropped his blade, which Dolish grabbed and plunged into his chest, pinning him to the floor.
Behind him, another Devourer jumped. He grabbed Dolish by the neck, trying to choke him with enhanced strength. But that wouldn’t work.
Your daughter isn’t safe. He thought towards the man. It was a gamble, and Dolish stoked the man’s fears that began to bubble. He started shouting at Dolish, becoming hysterical. Enough so that he didn’t notice when Dolish knocked his back against the wall. The Devourer’s grip loosened, and Dolish pulling him over his back and threw him onto the ground.
Air left the man’s lungs silently, and Dolish stomped on his face to knock him out. Huffing, he realized just how long it had been since he’d faced battle himself. How was he tired already? Dolish cycled his bewl through his body, healing the few cuts and bruises he’d accrued.
Gener- Merin! Where are you! He shouted throughout his mind. It reached through to everyone in the room, but the answers came back a jumbled mess. A hundred voices pleaded for his help.
There’s more Co-
HELP! HELP!
Dolish, they killed him. They killed Reno-
Dolish shook his head. He couldn’t parse it all. Not now, with his ears thrumming and his heart racing. He rushed down the hall, past dead guards and officials, past ambushers and protectors, until he reached the end of a single bloody hallway. Merin came out of one of the rooms rolling. He was bruised badly, with one eye bloodshot.
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“General Feranz!” Dolish shouted towards him, but Merin looked only terrified.
“Stop there, you bastard shapeshifter!” Merin shouted in fear. He turned back to the room he’d come out of, backing away slowly from it.
“No… No…”
A man walked through the door. He looked both parts Phasgorian and Ravenishtani, and his features twisted even as Dolish watched. Dolish rushed to block Merin, standing in front of the pursuer.
His attacker looked annoyed, and touched his arms to his elbows. Jets sprouted in their place, and Dolish readied his dagger. The Afterburner jumped into the air before tackling Dolish. The General skidded across the floor, moving backwards and hitting the wall. He felt a rib crack, along with the cracks that formed along the wall. His attacker did not desist, grabbing him by the jacket and pushing further and further, squeezing the air out of Dolish’s lungs.
Dolish grunted, glancing at the spreading cracks behind him. An idea came, and he elbowed it. The wall gave way, and Dolish ducked. He felt his elbows protest as the jacket came right off of him. The Afterburner was an amateur, knocking into several shelves and sofas before coming to a stop.
Dolish looked down at Merin, who was whimpering on the ground.
“You need to leave, General!”
“Unmaker, you really are the real Venastian, aren’t you?”
“Now, Merin!” he shouted, and the boy seemed to listen. He almost jumped off of the ground, adjusting his coat as he ran past Dolish. Inside the room, Dolish saw the Afterburner rising up, and he swapped his dagger to the other hand.
“Elephant shite huffing bastard,” the man cursed, then removed something from his pockets. A cracked vial appeared in his hand, filled with a dark red liquid. No… not an Afterburner then. He saw the man drink down the vial, and a purple glow leave his mouth as his features sharpened.
The Devourer screamed, using his jets to fly towards Dolish. The General didn’t hesitate, ducking again. But the man had adjusted his trajectory, landing atop Dolish and knocking his knife aside.
He punched down, using his jets to enhance the impact. Dolish held up his arms in defence, watching the man pummel them repeatedly. They began to grow numb, and Dolish feared that the man would break through. But then the Afterburner would go after Merin, and the Armon after that!
He wouldn’t allow it. Dolish waited until the Devourer took another breath, then chopped him on the throat. He began to cough, and Dolish pushed him off of himself. The man hit the ceiling and fell, landing on the ground still coughing. A moment later, he stopped, but Dolish kicked him. he rolled across the floor quickly, overturning tables and spreading blood on the carpet until he hit a wall.
Dolish took a deep breath and healed his arms, lessening the numbness in them. He picked up his dagger and walked towards the Phasgorian. The man stood up and was healing his wounds as Dolish approached.
“Why now? Why when we were leaving!” Dolish said, emotions rolling out even if he hadn’t intended them to.
“Stupid General. As if I care?” the man said.
“You hate my people that much?”
“Your people?” the man asked, but then Dolish rushed him again.
He swiped with his dagger while the Devourer punched with his jets. He was faster, but Dolish kept getting cuts in along his arm. But he could feel his dagger degrading with every swipe. The metal bending ever so slightly. It wasn’t made for Bladeborn hands.
The Devourer jabbed and Dolish shifted. He thrust his dagger at the Devourer’s heart, but his other hand blocked it. Only a shallow cut remained. He slammed the butt of the dagger with his other hand, pressing it further into the Devourer’s hand. It pierced through his hand and the surface of his chest, eliciting a grunt. The Bladeborn tried to punch Dolish, but he took it on the chin.
He slammed the knife in further, and the man coughed up blood. Dolish left the blade embedded in his chest and weaved backwards. He kicked the Devourer in the chest, sending him hurtling through the window behind him. The Devourer screamed on the way down, but Dolish didn’t catch it. People were coming out from the rooms they’d hid in, but none of them were Merin.
Is he gone? He hoped, but the sound of exploding stone betrayed that hope. Dolish turned immediately, pushing his bewl through his body. He ran through the halls, hoping against hope for Merin to be safe. He felt a breeze, and looked towards one end of the stronghold. A giant hole in the wall leading outside. There was a bandolier of Ravenfire grenades on the ground, causing Dolish’s stomach to drop.
“They’ve got the Armon’s son!” someone shouted, but Dolish wouldn’t believe it. He pushed past the crowd, towards the opening in the wall. There— floating in the air— floated a man holding Merin by the neck. Merin looked terrified, struggling against the grasp of the greater Bladeborn. Clothes torns, more bruises sported along his body, like a wild animal trying to escape a cage.
No! Dolish shouted in his mind. He ran past the ministers, through the guards and Generals, reaching the stairwell. He climbed those steps as fast as he could, uncaring of the muscles he pulled. Then Dolish burst out into the open of the roof, finding there an even worse sight. There were so many Devourers here it boggled Dolish’s mind.
How? How did this many of them sneak into the camps? They were busy keeping the Afterburners busy. Their own tar grenades had been turned against them, preventing their Bladeborn from flying off and intercepting Merin’s kidnapper.
Dolish flared his aura anew, running to the edge of the roof and avoiding the fights. The Afterburner drank from a vial on his vest, and Dolish realized, he too was a Devourer.
Phasgorian! Unhand the Armon’s son! Please, he has nothing to do with this fight!
The man turned around, but he did not look Phasgorian. No, he had the features of a Ravenishtani, with their light skin and dark hair. He’d taken the blood of one of their Bladeborn, then.
The man didn’t reply for a long moment. He glanced between Merin and Dolish, as if he were preparing a joke.
No, thank you.
He then blasted towards the ground. Dolish screamed unintelligibly. He tried to swerve the man’s emotions, ask for mercy, anything, but they fell on a deaf mind and spirit.
The sound of a sick, bone crunching splatter arose from the ground. Dust kicked up in the air, mixed with blood. Far too much of it was in the air, and Dolish felt his panic eclipsing all other feelings. He stared, unable to turn away from the sight even as the mist cleared.
There on the ground, stood a single Afterburner. Blood covered his clothes and the ground beneath him. a body sprawled out on the ground, showing the disfigured visage of Merin Feranz, son of the Armon.
The Afterburner looked up at Dolish, smearing blood across his face as he wiped with his hand. His emotions were still, an undisturbed pond among his spirit.
Dolish nails scraped the stones of the railing ahead of him. small streaks of blood left wherever he scratched. His jaw was set straight, and he tried to think rationally. But rational thought had left the old General long ago. If he could only see the mountain of rage in his own spirit at that moment.
As the Afterburner took off into the air, Dolish screamed all that he could.
****
“We need to leave,” Isildan said immediately. He didn’t bother even hiding his powers, taking a stance on the top of the wagon they were on. He looked out over the camps and back out into the wilderness, carving open a portal with both hands.
Galeon, stunned, stood there in silence. He hadn’t seen the body hitting the ground, nor the screams that followed afterwards. But he knew evil when he saw it, and nothing about the scene in front of him spoke of goodness. Above him, he saw numerous Afterburners flying away, and wanted to grab them out of the sky.
Emile slapped him out of the stupid thought, grabbing him by the shoulders.
“Come on! We can’t waste time here!” he shouted at Galeon. He began to drag him along through the portal.
“There they are!” someone shouted from the mouth of the alley. Standing there was the same broad-shouldered woman they’d tied up before, and she looked enraged. Behind her was a group of guards, some floating in the air while others stood with minerals in their hands.
“Stop those bastards!” she shouted at them. The entire group seemed to rush at them at once, but Emile dragged him through. Before the first guard could reach them, the portal closed and Galeon find himself in the middle of a field. He looked back at Isil, who was staring at the space in front of them.
“Galeon, please, come to your senses!” Isil pleaded with him.
“Y…yeah, yes, I’m here!” Galeon voiced back. Even as they spoke, they could see a portal forming near them.
“Run!” Galeon told Isil. He placed jets in his sliding configuration and scooped Emile off of the floor. The scout argued against it, but Galeon started sliding across the grassy floor.
Isil ran alongside him, and Galeon prayed to Seraphas that they would be able to make it out. More portals opened up in front of them, forcing the group to turn right along their path. Galeon pushed as much bewl into the jets as he could, moving up and down hills with his legs steady.
Emile looked back and brought out a sling from his pockets.
“They’re trying to corner us towards the left!” He shouted at them, flicking a single stone at the enemies behind them. It hit one of the Afterburners in the eye, knocking them away with a grunt.
“Isil, can you open one?!” Galeon shouted.
“No!”
The situation was rapidly declining. Galeon could feel the Ravenishtanis approaching. He had to lose them, but how?
Thoughts rumbled in the young Afterburner’s head until he glanced at the edge of the forest. The forest…
Galeon nudged Isildan slightly, and the Planar looked over. Sweat covered his face and he had reddened cheeks.
“The forest!” Galeon told him, keeping his voice as low as possible. Isil nodded, and they started to veer towards the trees.
Spears fell beside the young hallowmancers as they ran, and one grazed Isil across the cheek. He growled back at the Ravenishtanis, who would not yield.
“More incoming!” Emile shouted as he launched another stone at their enemies. The hill in front of them started descending, and the lip of the forest came ever so close.
Portals opened up ahead of them, but not fast enough to catch Galeon and Emile. The thick shade of the trees cooled them, yet they were running out of breath. Heavy sighs and more continued as they ran deeper into the forest. Galeon slid along the grass, while Isil had to contend with the terrain underfoot.
He winced often at every step. The man wasn’t built for this kind of sprint. A pair of Devourers lunged from the trees ahead of them, and Galeon had to duck. His knees scraped against the ground, but he bounced himself up and continued sliding.
Isil narrowly avoided a swipe of their claws, and continued to run. Galeon could see his eyes losing focus, and glanced behind them.
So many of them. Planars ripped open more portals, and Galeon knew they were trying to set a trap.
“Galeon… we cannot… keep this up…” Isildan said between mouthfuls of air. Ahead of them, more Devourers popped out of portals.
“Around these ones, Isil. I’ve got a plan!” Galeon told his friend. Emile faced forward, slinging a stone into one of the Devourers and mildly annoying them. Galeon placed a jet on his friend’s back, then flung Emile into the air.
Emile shouted as he soared near the treeline. Galeon ducked under the Devourers, plucking something from one of their belts as he did. He shot past them and slid along normally, catching Emile on the other side. Isil made it clear on the other side, but sported a fresh cut along his arms.
“It will heal,” Isildan reassured Galeon.
Galeon looked down at his hands, finding a grenade in his hands.
“Emile, can you do something with this?”
Emile plucked the grenade out of his hand, looking it over quickly.
“Ravenfire. Could burn the whole forest down,” he replied. Galeon winced. The destruction that would cause… would it be worth it just for escape?
“They could put it out in time, can’t they?” Galeon asked. Emotions warred on Emile’s face before he put on a slight smile.
“They will,” Emile assured him. Galeon nodded, and Emile placed the Ravenfire grenade in his sling. He threw it behind them, and flames began to spread from the impact. In a minute, they’d spread across the ground and towards the bark of the trees, catching those on fire. The speed at which they consumed the forest made Galeon reconsider, but they’d gotten their diversion.
Galeon and Isil rushed out of the reach of the Ravenishtanis, before coming to the edge of the forest. Galeon stopped there, dispersing his jets and letting go of Emile.
“What are you doing, Leon?” Isildan asked him.
“They’ll find us if we go together. You and Emile go on ahead. I’ll distract any Afterburners they send after us,” Galeon told the both of them.
“You’ll get yourself killed! How are you going to distract that many Afterburners?” Emile asked. Galeon pulled out bewllan crystals between his fingers, drinking the energy within them. He smiled towards his friends.
“I’m faster.”
****
Above the treeline, Ravenishtani Afterburners were roaming the skies. They scanned for the sight of the Phasgorian spies, yet found no one appearing from the forest. The fire that had started below them startled the Bladeborn, yet most stuck steadfast to their mission. Some of them broke off to bring water for dowsing, but that was a small number.
And it was good that they did, because from the tops of those trees appeared a single shining red figure. Blonde-haired, dark skinned, he reeked of Phasgorian heritage. And as soon as they saw him, every Afterburner around coalesced on his location.
****
Galeon zipped between Afterburners like he’d never had before. Grenades were flung at him alongside arrows, only barely missing his tender flesh by a hair. He let out a hysterical chuckle, dodging the attacks as he was. Behind him were a dozen Afterburners.
He flew in a straight line ahead of them, suddenly stopping and turning backwards. They would react slower than he, taking a moment to linger around. He ran loops around their formations, threw their grenades back at him and made himself a nuisance.
They shouted curses at him, and Galeon only caught a word or two. Nothing too pleasant for the ears, obviously, so he ignored them. Restlessness coursed through his veins as Galeon played with the Ravenishtani Afterburners, until a single grenade hit him dead on.
The Ravenfire grenade spread burning liquid across his skin, and Galeon let out a roar of pain. He fell through the skies, losing focus on his jets. Gasping for air, he freed up his bewl to heal his body, and regained some form of focus. Realising he was pitching right into the trees again, Galeon formed an idea. He slowed his fall, but fell under the leaves.
Into the forest once more, he realized just how far the fire had spread. He coughed into his hand, trying to pry the Ravenfire out of his hands and face. Seraphas gave him no luck there, as it stuck fiercely to him. It only peeled away once he healed over the area, placing a hand against a tree.
His hope of being left alone was dashed, when more Ravenishtanis fell near him. they surrounded him almost entirely, but stayed away. Flames danced in the background, raising up embers and smoke so thick it stung the eyes.
A single green edged portal cut through the haze, and the same woman appeared out from it. Again?
“You are surrounded, Afterburner,” the woman spoke in Antir, surprising Galeon.
“We didn’t do it,” Galeon replied.
“You deny an action before I even accuse you of it. You also stole from my General’s offices. I don’t believe that lends credence to your stance,” the woman told him.
“We were here for the documents only! We didn’t plan on assassinating anyone!” Galeon reasoned.
“And you expect me to believe that two parties snuck in at the same time?” the woman asked, spreading her hands. The smoke was getting thicker, and some of the other Afterburners had started coughing.
“I swear on Seraphas, we did not. Please, me and my friends were just here for your documents,” Galeon told her.
“And how did you hear about these papers, Afterburner? Who told you of them?”
“A duchess of ours. She thought you might have a clue where the Weapon was,” Galeon replied.
“And you think your nobles so just, that they wouldn’t take the opportunity given to ruin our morale, kill the son of our ruler, and leave like bandits?” The woman asked, her tone growing angrier and accent slipping.
The other Afterburners began to approach slowly, and Galeon sighed. Even a moment’s rest was enough. He blasted forward, right towards the Planar woman.
She was ready for an attack, but Galeon shot past her instead. He thought he was free, until he felt a tug against his leg. Something weighed him down, and his centre of balance was thrown away. He looked behind him and paled, seeing the Planar woman holding onto his leg. She was dragging against the ground, slowing Galeon.
Having no time to think, Galeon shot upwards into the skies. At least that way, she couldn’t slow him down.
“Give up, Phasgorian! You won’t survive this day!” She said, and Galeon felt a sharp pain his leg. She had stabbed him with a knife. Afterburners were closing in all around him, and he knew he had to shake them somehow. He kicked at the Planar woman, but she remained clutching to his leg.
They flew further and further into the air, and Galeon struggled to shake her grasp.
“Let go!” he shouted at her, kicking over and over again. So much so that Galeon didn’t notice the other Afterburner barrelling towards him. He was tackled out of the sky, and felt a load lighten from his leg. Looking down, Galeon saw an Afterburner grappling him. But more terrifying than that, was the sight of the falling Planar.
He hadn’t realized how high they’d really gotten. The woman was tumbling out of the skies, and no one seemed to notice. Why wasn’t she reacting? Opening a portal? Was she even conscious?
“She’s falling, you idiot! Go help her!” Galeon shouted at them, but none of them understood. He punched the man holding him, placing a jet on his face. He freed a chunk of his bewl, twisting his head to the side and loosening his grip. Galeon freed himself of the hold, then blasted downwards towards the Planar.
Just like last time, with Smokebrain. Galeon blasted as fast as he could, and then his mouth gaped open in horror. He was too slow. It was a sudden realization. She was too close to the ground, and Galeon too far away. There was no possible way to reach her in time. He should’ve kept flying anyway, trying to catch the Planar before she died, but instead Galeon stopped.
There was a second or two between his realization and the sickening thud of the woman’s body hitting the ground instantly. Galeon looked from above as blood spread under her corpse. He looked around, the skies full of stopped Afterburners.
Then they turned to Galeon, one by one. Language wasn’t needed, because Galeon knew they wanted to rip him to shreds. When one came for him, Galeon flew away instinctively. But his mind wasn’t thinking. He couldn’t focus on what was ahead of him because he’d killed someone.
He’d let a real human being die, and he didn’t even have time to mourn.
****
Isil and Emile held each other up as they crossed a bluff. They had to hide under the searching gaze of Afterburners, near rocks and under bushes to get back to the camps, Emile was covered in scratches, and the both of them with dirt and leaves. They heaved breaths with every step, but couldn’t stop until they’d gotten what they’d come for.
They were close approaching, and Isil tried opening another portal.
“What are you going to do once we’ve returned?” Isil asked him while he was ripping open the portal.
“Take a bath for three days and three nights. Get the dirt out from under my fingernails,” Emile said. He thought he’d have to wait a bit longer, but it seemed Isildan had already opened the portal.
Before he could cross, something compelled Emile to look backwards. He thought there was something wrong with the horizon. Until he saw a giant green portal open up. It was the size of a small hill, and from behind it came death.
Thousands of soldiers crossed in marching lines alongside automatons. Devourers ran ahead of them, Afterburners flying overhead and scouting ahead. Elephants trumpeted as they reached across from the portals, and Emile found his legs growing shaky.
“T-they… brought everyone?” he said as his voice stuck in his throat. He turned, rushing through Isildan’s portal. They came out the other end, yet the army looked no further behind.
“Another one, Isil!” Emile shouted at him.
“I am trying!” Isil shouted back, his arms shaking.
What had they done?