General Calahan sat in his office reading the reply he had just received from Lord Baura, his mood souring as he read. Crumpling the letter into a small ball, he threw it into the fireplace watching as the flames quickly devoured the message. It was not the response he was looking for. Cursing out loud he tried to keep his temper in check, the need to vent pushing him to the brink.
A couple of days ago, Calahan had sent one of the Great Lords; Lord Baura a message of alliance, asking him to back him in nominating Prince Orda as the best marriage candidate for Princess Milina. The response was much worse than he had hoped for. Not only did Lord Baura choose to support Tamza’s choice of Prince Mayaga, but he also informed Calahan that Lord Leora favored Prince Mayaga.
Rising in anger, Calahan turned towards the fireplace, his mind struggling to escape the maze he felt trapped in. When he had first decided on Prince Orda, he envisioned a bright new future for the Kingdom—a future where the light of Alumus would bring joy and reverence to Vanura. In his vision, he had secured the support of three Great Lords, and the trust of the soldiers devoted to Alumus. With their combined strength and his influence, he had forged an unshakable alliance that crowned Prince Orda as the new King of Vanura, paving the way for his future son to become The Holy King. The Holy King, blessed by Saint Sanctius, would usher in a thousand years of prosperity to the continent.
Yet everything was unraveling. The Old Terrors did not rest, and nothing was going according to plan. Every correct path was barred, with thorns and obstacles narrowing Calahan's choices. First, there was the betrayal of General Khan choosing to back Prince Mayaga, and now, there was news that two Great Lords had joined Tamza and Khan.
Pacing back and forth in agitation, Calahan bit his nails as stress tightened his body. Although Lord Baura was a problem, the real issue was Lord Leora. House Leora was Vanura’s great military family, boasting the strongest army next to the Royal Family. Known for their fierce strength, honor, and friendship with King Alfred, they were revered by the whole Kingdom. Influence-wise, Calahan knew that Lord Drake Leora had too much sway, with just his word the undecided Lords would back him.
Feeling like the walls were closing on him, Calahan gripped his hands together, prying frantically.
Alumus, keep me strong! Give me the wisdom and strength needed to guard my heart against the whispers of The Old Terrors. Please show me how to bring your light to the lost and hopeless. Guide my steps through the darkness so I may light the torches for future generations. Please, give me a sign!
As he prayed, a small seed of fear buried itself deep in his subconscious, a seed watered by desperation. There had to be a way to save his beloved Kingdom, a way to keep the fools from delivering humanity to the Old Terrors. Knowing Alumus would never send him on a helpless mission, he racked his brain trying to solve the problem, anxiety causing him to start sweating.
The longer he thought, the more he needed to pray, the once clear path had become obscured. Allies had turned traitorous, every opportunity had ended in disappointment, and the weight of responsibility was suffocating.
As Calahan’s mind was forced deeper and deeper toward the dark abyss, he found himself standing at the precipice, all logical paths dark.
Alumus, please send me a sign! Your children are in need, he begged. I have been struggling for days while our enemies strike us from the dark. I fear that they grow in numbers as the days go on. I am losing strength. I am not strong enough. Please give me the strength to carry on!
As Calahan knelt on the floor, he kept his hands clutched together, the sounds of the Great Shrine’s mantras a buzz in his subconscious. Losing himself in the mediation, he sat there until he saw a glimpse of hope in the abyss. Wildly grasping onto the solution, Calahan’s mind jumped, landing on the path of desperation.
“I must kill Khan and Tamza, then take Castle Salizia with force,” he whispered, feeling nauseous at the very idea. “The Great Lords would not like it, but if Princess Milina has a son with Prince Orda, they will not cause too much trouble.”
Steeling his heart, he picked up a quill. Out of the eight Great Lords, Lord Bisconti Bovera was the most dissatisfied with the current state of things; and a known believer of Alumus. I must get his backing.
Knowing he only had one shot to convince him to help in his crazy plan, Calahan started to form the jumbled thoughts in his mind into words. Breathing deeply, he dipped his quill into the dark ink. Hands shaking, he started to write, his mind set down a path of no return.
A couple of days after Calahan had sent the message, an envoy from House Bovera quietly arrived in the capital and asked for a meeting.
Nervously walking towards the private residence of Lord Bovera, which was located on the outskirts of the capital, Calahan silently reiterated the core arguments he would bring up when talking to the envoy, each argument rehearsed and thought out clearly. As he rounded the corner, he found himself at his destination.
The Bovera Manor was large, proudly reflecting the title and nobility befitting that of a Great Lord, built during a time in which the strength of Vanura was the envy of the world. However, it was long past its prime. To a careful observer, it was apparent that the manor was not as rich as it was in the past. Looking at the bare garden and weather-worn buildings, Calahan felt sadness mixed with respect.
When Queen Kina was in power, her father had created new tax laws, the purpose of which was to drain the wealth from the Great Lords. To pay the new taxes demanded, many of the smaller Houses and farmers were forced into selling most of their belongings, creating a wave of refugees. During this time, rumors coming from the south had praised Lord Bovera, saying he had taken the brunt of the taxes demanded, shielding the commoners from giving up their food and possessions. The massive amount of money spent by House Bovera had forced them to sell most of their possessions in the capital, their once beautiful manor stark and bare.
Internally Calahan felt hope, the action of House Bovera closely followed the teaching of Alumus, putting the lives of the people before that of worldly possessions. They would definitely see the logic in his arguments, the need to have the future king follow the light.
“General Calahan?” a gate guard walked up to him, having noticed him standing by the gate.
“Yes, I am here to meet up with the envoy from the Bovera family.”
“We have been expecting you. My Lord, Lord Tulka is waiting for you.”
Eyebrows rising slightly, Calahan felt a rush of hope and anticipation, if Lord Bovera had sent his brother, they were surely serious about hearing him out.
“Please follow me, my Lord.”
Following the guard past the great iron gates, Calahan kept his body from showing nerves, his heartbeat the only thing that he could not control. Hurriedly passing empty flower beds and fountains containing dark water, the two of them entered the manor through a small side door.
Turning to look at the guard wordlessly, Calahan questioned what he should do with his eyes.
“Please wait here My Lord,” the guard said, bowing deeply. “Word of your arrival has been sent to the Lord. Someone from the main house will be here in a moment. I must go back to keep the front gate guarded.”
Saluting sharply the guard backed away before making his way back to the gate.
Awkwardly waiting there, Calahan kept his eyes from wandering, silently praying as he waited patiently. By the time he was halfway through the Chant of Light, he heard shuffling behind him, an old scribe entering the room, his body bowed deeply with age.
“General, please follow me, Lord Tulka is expecting us,” the old scribe whispered, his weak voice just reaching Calahan.
“Thank you. Please lead the way.”
Slowly walking, the old scribe led Calahan deep into the manor, passing empty rooms, stark halls, and walls that once held priceless pieces of art. Reaching a closed door deep within the manor, the old scribe paused, straightening his clothes before knocking, the sound echoing loudly in the empty hallway. After a brief delay, a deep voice answered.
“Come in.”
Opening the door the scribe stood aside letting Calahan walk through the door.
Entering the study, Calahan looked around. Compared to the rest of the manor, the study was furnished, an old sturdy desk covered with a sizable pile of papers stood at the back of the room. In the center of the room was a low table surrounded by two couches, with an image of a cape buffalo painted on its surface. Sitting on the couch, facing the door was Lord Tulka.
Lord Tulka was taller than his brother, well built, with peppered gray hair that was cut short. Staring into his gray eyes, Calahan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in unease. At that moment, he finally understood why the soldiers called Tulka “Soul Light.” Tulka’s gray eyes were famous—some even swearing that in the midst of battle one could see the souls of the dead being pulled into them.
Standing up as Calahan walked in, Tulka walked over, extending his hand and grasping Calahan’s hand in a strong squeeze, his eyes locking onto him. As their eyes met, Calahan felt as if his soul was being read, his fears and hopes pulled out and analyzed by the man.
Gulping nervously, Calahan put on a forced smile. “Thank you for meeting me, Lord Tulka. I was both surprised and honored when I found out Lord Bovera had sent his brother to our meeting.”
“Please, sit, General. I mean no disrespect, but let’s get straight to the point—I have much to do.”
Nodding, Calahan waited until Tulka sat before taking a seat himself. “If you insist,” he said, clearing his throat. “As you know, the marriage of Princess Milina is detrimental to our Kingdom's future. As followers of Alumus, I believe that Prince Orda would be the best candidate.”
Calahan paused, nerves causing his hands to sweat. If he was wrong about the Bovera family’s hate for King Alfred his plan would fail, and he would most likely be executed for treason. Hardening his resolve he continued.
“The reason I bring this up now is because our Kingdom is in grave peril. As I am sure you have heard by now, a couple of days ago, Castle Salizia was besieged by assassins. Publicly, Prince Hector announced that we were able to beat back the assassins without any trouble, but that is the farthest from the truth. In fact, during the assault, some of the assassins were able to reach the King.”
“The King was injured?”
“No, my Lord,” Tulka said, his heart beating rapidly. “King Alfred has passed away.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from Tulka as the news of the King's death was uttered, the man’s face flickering from shock to a controlled calm. All soldiers of Tulka’s experience were good at keeping their thoughts secure.
Trying to read Tulka’s expression Calahan could not tell if he was acting or if he truly did not know. Calahan had always suspected that House Bovera had a robust intelligence network but judging from how Lord Tulka acted he did not know if they already knew. “With the King's death, Princess Milina must marry within three years. We must hurry if we are to have Prince Orda as King,” he said, trying to convey how urgent the situation was.
“If the King is truly dead, we agree that it is of the utmost importance to secure Prince Orda as the next King,” Tulka finally replied, his hand rubbing his chin in thought. “I am positive that we can get the backing from Lord Para and Lord Galra.”
“I have already reached out to Lord Para and Lord Galra,” Calahan interrupted. “They have given their blessing. However, the problem is that General Tamza, Khan, Lord Baura, and Lord Leora are backing Prince Mayaga.”
Silence filled the room as Tulka mulled over what Calahan said, his facial expression unreadable. “Judging from what you just told me, you did not contact us just for backing Prince Orda. Why did you contact us?” Tulka asked, his gray intense eyes boring into Calahan’s eyes.
Clearing his throat Calahan answered. “We have no choice but to seize control of Castle Salizia. Once we do, we can select Prince Orda to be Princess Milina’s betrothed.”
“Take the Castle?” Tulka repeated, a frown appearing on his face. “With Salizia’s Warriors and Prince Hector, there is no way this can be accomplished. I do not think House Bovera can be of help.”
“There is one more secret that General Todo prevented from being leaked,” Calahan quickly said, his words tumbling out. “During the assassination, we lost thirty Pillars, and Prince Hector was severely hurt. To cure his wounds, he has left for the Lundale Kingdom. The current Prince in the Castle is a body double. House Salizia is now at the weakest it has ever been.”
“What!”
A chill went down Calahan's spine as he stared into Tulka’s eyes, the gray in his eyes almost glowing with intensity. Gulping with nerves Calahan put his final card on the table. It was now or never. “Although we must still fight General Todo and the Royal Guard. I believe I can get General Zacheri to join us. His mother is a loyal Alumus believer. With him and your help, I am confident we can take the Castle!”
“General what you are suggesting is treason,” Tulka slowly uttered, his voice quiet yet strong.
“No, Lord Tulka,” Calahan argued, trying to force Tulka to see reason. “We have all sworn loyalty to House Salizia and to the glory of Vanura. An oath I will never break! I believe that taking the Castle does not go against that oath. House Salizia will still be the Royal House with Princess Milina becoming the new Queen. The only difference is that we will be able to choose her future husband—a husband who will show her the Light of Alumas! Their future child will lead Vanura into a new era. An era of light!”
“Even if there is some logic to what you are telling me, we cannot send our soldiers to the capital,” Tulka replied, his hands folded in front of him, his head tilted slightly, the power from his eyes dimming. “The current situation at our borders is complicated. If we are to send troops to help you, we can be attacked by enemies when they are gone. You may get your Kingdom of Light, but House Bovera will not be alive to be part of it.”
“There must be something you can do!” Calahan pleaded, feeling his stomach drop.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“I am afraid we cannot spare our soldiers. And even if we could, there is no guarantee that Prince Hector will not come back before we can take the castle.”
Feeling the room start to spin, Calahan tried to think of what to do, his mind racing. This meeting was not going well. “Lord Tulka,” he stammered, dropping to his knees. “Please trust me. We can do this! We can bring our Kingdom into a new and bright future. A future that will not forget how much you have helped us!”
Kneeling there, head bent down, Calahan did not see the momentary grin that touched Tulka’s lips, a twitch that vanished instantly.
“I did say that we cannot send any of our soldiers,” Tulka said. “However, we are in touch with a group of soldiers who are extremely faithful to the followings of Alumus. It would take some monetary sway, but if you supply that to us. I am sure that they would be most pleased to come to your aid. Let me get in contact with them and negotiate a price. In the meantime, let us plan the best course of action in taking the Castle.”
Seeing hope for the first time in what felt like months, Calahan felt tears drip down his face. “Thank you, my Lord.”
The spring rain started to fall once again, and the sounds of distant thunder were a faint reminder of the King's death to Calahan. This spring did not feel any different, but to him, every change in the weather was a sign from Alumus.
“General Calahan”
Jumping with a start, Calahan almost cried out loud, the papers on his desk falling to the floor. He had not noticed anyone enter his study. Frantically looking around, he saw a man standing in the corner of his study. The man was dressed in all black and had a hood covering his face.
“Name yourself!” Calahan demanded, his hand reaching for his sword, heart racing. Who was this man? How had he gotten into the room without him noticing? Only someone much stronger than him could do such a thing.
“I am called Godric. I have come under the orders of Lord Bovera, to help with spreading the light of Alumus in this Kingdom,” the man said, his voice pitched so low that Calahan felt it rumble in his chest.
Hearing Godric’s words caused Calahan to exhale in relief, the momentary panic that filled him vanishing. “Sir Godric, I have been expecting you,” he said, relaxing his hand from his sword. “I am sorry for making such a fool of myself. I did not hear you enter.”
“The light keeps me hidden,” Godric replied, using both hands to uncover his face.
The man was baled, with dark brown eyes and a clean-shaven face. If Calahan were to describe him, he would have said the man was forgettable, someone who would have trouble being remembered, the man’s plain face having no distinguishing features. The only unique quality the man possessed was his deep voice—a voice that sounded excessively emotionless as if he were speaking words he was unfamiliar with.
“Have you come alone?” Calahan asked, stepping around his desk and reaching for a cup of water. His throat had suddenly gone dry. Taking a sip of the water, he continued, “Lord Tulka mentioned he would send me more men.”
“I have brought one hundred believers with me. You do not need to worry, they are specialized in combat,” the emotionless voice answered.
Feeling a rush of adrenalin, Calahan finished his cup of water before spreading a map of the Castle on his desk.
The map was unbelievably detailed, every strength and weakness of the Castle, meticulously noted down by Calahan himself. If any foreign Kingdom got its hands on such a map, Vanura would fall within days. Taking a deep breath and smelling the ink from the map, Calahan knew he had stepped past the point of no return. Waving Godric over, he started to explain.
“There are two thousand Royal Guards under General Todo currently stationed in Salizia Castle, we split them into four groups. Three of the groups oversee the protection of the castle. There is a rotating schedule in which each group is responsible for one of the three shifts, as for the fourth group, it is their rest day. They will be resting here.” Calahan pointed at a room near the second moat, outside the inner castle wall.
Filling his empty water cup, he took a long drink before continuing. “Out of the four First Pillars in charge of the groups, one of them is a loyal Alumus believer, he will move with us.
“Sir Godric, I would like you to take care of the soldiers who are resting. You do not have to kill them. If you can prevent them from entering the inner castle wall, our plans will succeed.
“If you take control of this gate here, your one hundred men should be able to keep them from reinforcing the rest of the guards.”
“You are sure that you will be able to take care of the other Generals?” Godric rumbled, his fingers carefully tracing the soldier’s position on the map.
“Yes. A week from now, I will throw my birthday banquet, and during the feast, I will take care of Tamza and Khan. Zacheri will not help us, but as a believer of Alumus he will turn a blind eye to our cause.”
“And the Great Lords?”
“As for the Great Lords, if we can control the Castle in ten days, they will not be able to do much. Even if Lord Leora comes with his full army, he will not be able to retake the castle.”
There was a momentary silence as Godric continued to study the map, his expression shifting slightly. Blinking in surprise, Calahan realized the man’s face wasn’t inherently forgettable—Godric was deliberately changing his appearance. With subtle movements of his facial muscles and the use of angles, he was changing the shape of his eyes and mouth. Even the wrinkles on his face seemed to vanish and reappear elsewhere.
“If it is just ten days, we will be able to take the castle,” Godric slowly said, bringing Calahan back to the present. “We have one week to hammer out all of the details, but the Light willing, it will be done.”
Hearing Godric agree, Calahan felt a rush of joy. Clutching his fists tightly he wished for the first time since childhood that his birthday would come sooner.
The whole castle was in a hubbub of excitement on the day of Calahan’s birthday, the happy sounds of servants and guards as they prepared for the banquet a constant stream of energy. Most years’ birthday banquets were not as festive, but with the attack on the castle, everyone seemed to be using this as an excuse to cheer themselves up, throwing their all into General Calahan's birthday.
As night approached, the anticipation and tension could be felt in the very air—oddly within the happy atmosphere, some soldiers were cleaning and maintaining their armor and weapons, telling anyone who asked that they wanted to look the best for the general’s banquet. As the sun set, groups of partygoers entered the castle, officially beginning the first festive occasion since that stormy night.
General Khan entered the ballroom, his spirit high, next to him stood General Tamza his bushy eyebrows furrowed in a slight frown. Khan had not expected Tamza to be invited to the banquet. The hatred between him and General Calahan was something everyone knew about, yet Tamza had been invited. Calahan had offered his hand in peace.
Smiling in happiness, Khan felt hope. This peace offering was small, but he was confident that the two generals could put their differences aside and work for the betterment of the Kingdom. If the rivalry had continued, he had been worried that the small religious factions within the army would splinter, causing a massive power struggle.
“General Khan, General Tamza!” seeing the two enter the banquet, General Calahan came hurrying over, a warm smile on his face.
“Happy Birthday General!” Both Khan and Tamza said, offering their hands in congratulations. Shaking their hands Calahan smiled, “Please, no need for that, enjoy this party! You are my guests for tonight, relax, and have a good time. Come, let me introduce you to some people that I know you would find fascinating!”
Leading them to a group of young ladies laughing to themselves, Calahan cleared his throat before introducing the two parties to each other. “Ladies this is General Khan and General Tamza, and General, these fine ladies are from Kandula.”
“General Khan, General Tamza. It is an honor to meet you,” the ladies laughed, their bright smiles hidden behind ornate hand fans.
Feeling his face warm, Khan’s face split into a wide smile. He had always had a weakness for women; their colorful dresses and perfectly styled hair made his eyes sparkle. “The honor is all mine,” he grinned, kissing the back of the hands offered to him.
“If you would excuse me,” Calahan spoke up. “I just saw an old friend arrive. I must receive him.”
“Please don’t burden yourself with us,” Khan had already lost interest in Calahan, his eyes locked on the ladies. “Tamza, this is going to be a night to remember!”
Half an hour later General Tamza found himself standing near a table filled with an assortment of small pastries, the smell of the baked goods wafting over him. Next to him stood Khan, the large general patiently waiting for the ladies to return from the powder room, a cup of wine in his hands.
“What do you think of the party?” Tamza asked, putting a whole pastry in his mouth.
“The party is fine, but those ladies are quite something else. You should talk to them,” replied Khan, his eyes surveying the crowd as he looked for the ladies.
Rolling his eyes Tamza took another pastry, “I just realized I don’t recognize many of the people here, some of them seem to be foreigners.”
“I think you are right. Notice anyone interesting?”
Taking a moment to inspect the guests at the party, Tamza’s vision stopped at the back of the room, an unknown man causing him to pause.
The unknown man had no hair on his head or his face, everything was cleanly shaved. As their eyes met, Tamza felt his battle instincts perk up. The man was strong, the wolf-like way he moved betraying the precision and skill of a trained warrior.
“Khan, do you see that man? The one standing at the back.”
“Which one? The one in blue?”
“No, the one that's walking away.”
“I see him. Don’t recognize him tho. Why do you ask?”
“He’s strong, most likely an Arcane Lord.”
“An Arcane Lord?” Khan raised his eyebrows. It was unusual for them to not recognize an Arcane Lord. “I wonder where he came from?”
Before Tamza could reply, the clinking noise of someone tapping on a wine glass hushed the crowd. Someone was gathering everyone’s attention.
Looking over at the sound, Tamza saw Calahan standing in the middle of the ballroom, a wine glass in one hand, a fork in the other.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for celebrating my birthday with me!” Calahan cried, taking a bow. Raising his arms to quiet the sounds of clapping and cheering he continued. “I would like to offer a toast to all my friends, and colleagues. But first, I have acquired a rare and excellent wine, let us all toast with that! Bring the wine! Pass them to the gathered guests. Does everyone have a glass? Good! Let us toast. A toast to our brave soldiers! Especially my friends and fellow generals, General Tamza, and General Khan!”
Watching the grinning Khan down the wine he was handed, Tamza accepted a glass and took in the scent of the wine, letting the complex fragrance linger in his mind. Hints of fruit, herbs, and a tart sweetness he did not recognize settling in his nose. He did not want to admit it, but he had a pretentious side when it came to wine.
Taking a small sip, he expertly swirled the rich flavors around his mouth before swallowing, his tongue savoring the taste. As the wine seeped down his throat Tamza frowned in puzzlement. Something did not taste right. Smacking his lips he moved his tongue around his mouth as he tried to pinpoint the strange taste. Had the wine turned bad?
The sudden sound of shattering glass and screams pulled Tamza out of his thoughts, his body spinning around to confront the commotion. Behind him General Khan was on the floor gasping for air, his hands clutching his throat, the mighty warrior’s eyes bulging, his stiff face no longer smiling.
Dropping his wine glass, Tamza ignored the cup shatter around his feet as he dashed to Khan’s side, his heart pounding painfully against his chest. What was going on?
The general’s throat was double the size it should have been, streaks of red and purple running along its length. As Khan’s face became bloated, Tamza had a terrifying realization. It was poison! The wine had been poisoned! It was a trap! Everything was just an act; the grand feast and the peace offering were just an excuse to get him and Khan to let their guard down! Turning to look at Calahan, Tamza bared his teeth, standing up.
“CALAHAN WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”
As he took a step, he noticed the group of unknown guests start to pull weapons from underneath tables and chairs, their body language telling Tamza that they were serious. They had come here to kill.
“TRAITOR!”
Reaching for his sword, Tamza was struck by a wave of dizziness, his body lurching to the side. Grasping at the air, he missed the handle of his sword as the room spun wildly around him. The potency of the poison was strong—he had only taken a mouthful, yet he was already struggling to stand. If he had finished the cup, he would be dead.
Glancing down at his sword to make sure he didn’t miss this time, Tamza felt his heart freeze before sinking, he had not missed his sword! He was not wearing it! Realizing he should have known something was wrong when the party required everyone to leave their weapons at home, Tamza cursed to himself.
Stumbling forward as his legs started to falter, he caught himself on a table, scattering the food about. Frantically searching for anything he could use as a weapon; he caught a glimpse of a man calmly approaching Khan. Recognizing the man as the bald stranger, Tamza tried to move towards him, his knees buckling.
“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”
Shouting in rage and desperation, Tamza watched as the man approached Khan, bowed, and then reached down and cut the general’s throat. Stepping out of the way of the blood that was spraying out of the wound, the bald man gestured to Calahan, his clean hand devoid of any blood.
Nodding at the bald man, Calahan stepped up, his face determined.
“Our God has spoken, the Kingdom of Vanura has for far too long been under the fake goddess Gera! We, as faithful soldiers of Alumus must cut the rotting flesh from the body and save this great nation! In the name of Alumus, I command all those who are faithful to kill the heretics!”
As Calahan's voice echoed through the banquet hall, a massacre began. Soldiers and guests alike drew hidden weapons, cutting down anyone who was not part of the uprising. The stench of blood and bile filled the room, panicked screams and cries shattering the momentary silence.
Feeling the walls rapidly spin around him, Tamza felt his vision starting to tunnel, the chandelier in the hall looking like a dizzying beast, confusing and blinding him at every turn. Leaning on top of a table, he tried to keep his head clear, his body starting to burn. He would die if he did not do something about the poison!
Concentrating on his Crest—which was the shape of a black bear, he tried to root himself, drawing as much Aether as he could through his gate of power. As the drawn Aether scorched his Aether Passageway and burned away some of the poison, Tamza allowed his instincts to take over.
Dropping to the floor, he rolled, feeling his shoulder strike a table leg. Faintly overhead, the sound of a blade severing the air where his head was moments ago reached his ears. Blood running cold, he kept moving, arms and legs pushing him forward.
I would have died if didn’t move, he thought to himself. Keep moving!
Crawling out from under the table he saw a sword clattering across the floor before stopping by his hand.
Thank the Goddess!
Desperately grabbing the sword, he scanned his surroundings, blade held at the ready.
In front of him stood Calahan, his own sword drawn, he was waiting for him to stand. Stomaching sinking, Tamza realized that luck had nothing to do with the sword in his hand. It was given to him by Calahan.
“General Tamza, stand. I’ve always wondered which one of us was the better fighter,” Calahan calmly stated.
Anger flooded into Tamza as he heard those words, the rage smothering the confusion and pain he felt. “I’m going to kill you!” he rasped as he brought his sword up, power coursing through him.
He had always wanted to know who the better fighter was, did he? But he only dared to challenge me when I’m poisoned? The coward!
Drawing even more power through his Gate of Power, Tamza rotated the Aether to his core, guiding it to his arm then finally out of his hand and onto his sword.
As the Aether surrounded the blade, the sword started to hum, bright light slowly emitting off it. “A coward and a traitor! You dare turn your blade against the Kingdom?” he spat.
“Not against the Kingdom,” Calahan corrected, his sword glowing with power. “Against the enemies of Alumus!”
The two Generals stared at each other, surrounded by the sounds of fighting and dying, both paying little attention to their surroundings. Almost as if they could read each other's mind, they moved at the same time, blades clashing, the pair synchronized in their desire to kill. The two danced around the ballroom with deadly grace, the first and last dance of the party, the sounds of their swords, the only music they needed.
Tamza slashed down diagonally meeting Calahan’s sword mid-swing, the two swords clashing loudly. As the swords met, Tamza felt his body stiffen, the poison binding his muscles, pain running down his arm. Gasping out loud he watched as Calahan took advantage of his momentary pause.
Stepping forward with his right leg, Calahan twisted his hands in a flicking motion—first left, then down—causing Tamza’s sword point to pitch downward, exposing his body. Having created an opening, Calahan stepped past Tamza, his sword drawing a line across Tamza’s arm.
A burning sensation raced up Tamza’s arm as the sharp steel opened a large cut on his left arm, pain blossoming in his mind in an instant. Putting pressure on the wound with his hand that was still holding his sword, Tamza stumbled back, his enhanced strength the only reason he did not fall.
“Is this truly the swordsmanship of the great Tamza?” Calahan mocked as he stood behind Tamza, his sword resting on his shoulder.
Refusing to let go of his sword, Tamza wildly spun around keeping his body facing Calahan. Trying, then failing to keep the tip of his sword up, he cursed, his left arm hanging uselessly against his side, poison robing the strength needed to keep his sword up. Glancing down through his failing vision, he saw the cut to his left arm. It was deep, too deep, dark blood was running down his arm causing a pool to form where he stood. He would not last long, he had to do something, something dramatic.
With the last of his strength Tamza stepped forward, roaring with all his might he pulled deeply on the Aether surrounding him, forcefully drawing as much as he could into his body. With a rush, energy tore through his body dangerously, pain and strength giving his body the needed energy to keep going—but for only a second.
As the Aether burred the poison from his body, Tamza felt his mind clear before he felt his Aether passageway start to break—in a movement his ability to draw Aether would forever be gone—but it no longer mattered, this was going to be his last fight.
As Tamza shot towards Calahan, sword extended, Calahan raised his sword expertly, parrying Tamza's rush, the motion changing Tamza’s trajectory. With his sword’s trajectory changed, Tamza’s blade only grazed Calahan’s arm leaving a shallow cut. On the other hand, Calahan’s sword plunged into Tamza’s stomach—extending out the back.
Falling to the floor, Tamza felt his vision darken, his blood framing his body in a red outline. He had not been strong enough. As he died, Tamza heard an unknown voice speak to Calahan.
“Lord Calahan, we have eliminated the heretics.”
“Excellent, we now head for the inner wall.”
Leaving the massacre they had caused, the group of Alumus believers left the hall their celebration garments dyed red with blood. The banquet hall which had been filled with laughter and hope just moments ago had turned into a nightmare, the happy guests strewn across the room, their broken bodies filling the room with the smell of iron and death.