Robert poked at his small campfire with a stick, losing his thoughts in the bright, dancing flames. He had been traveling virtually alone for countless hours now, keeping himself hidden for most of the time. Dio’Mar was there but said very little to him since their first discussion on his somewhat recklessly planned escape from Rexun. He knew she wouldn’t understand; she lived here. Robert had thought about going home every day since his arrival. And though he had become fascinated with the powers and people of Pelemont, he longed for the normalcy of his old life.
“How far?” he asked, casually drinking water from a canteen around his waist.
“Another day…” Dio’Mar said, her voice tiny and small.
Robert nodded, refusing to continue the conversation further. He began to open his pack to pull out his blankets for sleep but paused when he saw the form of Dio’Mar appear before him, looking to the north.
“What is it?” he asked, pausing as he grew stiff with the tension.
“Something…” she whispered. “Something terrible is happening there…”
Robert looked in the direction of her intrigue, standing to get a better view. “What? What’s happening?”
Her small form turned to face him. “It is none of your concern… human.” Her voice was still small, but there was no small amount of rancor present.
The words stung Robert, and he recoiled a bit.
“I must go stop this…” she continued.
“Wait.” Robert stood in front of her. Not as though it would have stopped a spirit in the first place, but it got his point across. “Tell me what’s happening. Maybe I can help.”
She stared, eyeless at him for several long moments. “A Rexunii village is being raided by Lokkadonian scouts… their main force is close behind, but there is still time… you can do what you will… but I must save my people…”
There was a chorus of distant shrieks that could now be heard over the valley. The sun was on its way down, but this would be a bad place to be either way. It must have just started, he thought. Robert looked at his deformed hand again, clenching it in frustration. God damn it, you lose your shit in Visgo when they almost kill innocent civilians, but you want to leave these people to die helplessly? His mind raced at the terrible choices before him. “What kind of a man am I?” he said out loud, mostly to himself.
“I hope… not a selfish coward…” Dio’Mar said, zipping toward the sound of screams and terror.
~
Robert wheezed as he raced behind the spirit, after his introduction to the spiritual energy in this world. He, along with his companions, had experienced great changes within their own bodies. One of these changes was a modest increase in strength, coordination, and overall endurance. Even with these advantages, Robert still found himself struggling to keep up. He could smell it now, scorched buildings and the stinging invasive stench of burning flesh. He had been running for twenty minutes or so but couldn’t seem to see anything.
“Stop!” Dio’Mar shouted.
Robert skidded to a halt before a vertical drop, masked by waist-high grass that he had been running through. A hundred feet below him was a small village, probably home to a few hundred, burning and ravaged by large pillars of stone that jutted out at unnatural angles. There were dozens of bodies strewn about the winding roads, and still, there were moans and screams, many of them women by the sounds.
Cursing himself, Robert leaped off the drop, using his Dunamis to glide him safely down to the chaotic mess. Black wind billowed around him, and Dio’Mar floated beside him, her thin, usually unmoving mouth, twisted in a clear grimace.
He slowly worked his way across the mounds of death, working his way to where he heard the last gasps of life of this village, pleading and begging for mercy.
Robert leaned against the edge of one of the stone dwellings that bordered the village center. Within, he saw a dozen crimson-clad warriors systematically killing the few remaining villagers. They shouted obscenities and taunted them while they acted their bloody work, one by one, as though they had all the time in the world.
Further to the right of the killing, Robert’s heart sank at the sight of several younger Dae girls being ravaged by warriors. “These fucking bastards,” he said aloud. “I’ll kill them!”
“No…” Dio’Mar said, putting her hand on his chest. As she spoke, her form began to grow again. “They would kill you… Robert… your powers are different, and could affect the course of a large battle… but even one of these warriors could kill you…”
“What do we do then!? I can’t let them do this and just stand around doing nothing!” he shouted, causing several of the warriors to look in his direction.
“You… have little faith… I am an ancient spirit of this world…” She turned from him and screamed, in a voice that was so dark and vile, it caused him to fall to the blood-soaked mud below, heaving violently.
“Holy… ack… fucking shit…” he hacked. Robert looked up through watering eyes to see a monster before him. Not the benign little form of his closest companion here, but a forty-foot monster, with black tentacles and spikes that seemed to split her skin in every surface of her gruesome body. She let out another shriek, and this time, Robert did vomit from its sound. Her small mouth was now a deathly maw, filled with razor-sharp teeth, and black smoke seemed to seep from it.
The Lokkadonian warriors stood, stunned and in terror. Some bent over, puking much like Robert had, but most had managed to stay on their feet.
“You…” the vile voice of Dio’Mar bellowed. “…have come here… to commit these crimes… against the people of Rexun… now… you will find death…”
Before Robert could regain his composure, he felt the heat of several blasts of flame slam into Dio’Mar’s monstrous form. She lunged forward at the warriors in the square, seemingly unphased by the attacks. The ground rumbled and screamed as large spikes of earth shot from the ground at her, bolts of lightning, blasts of fire, and blades of water all began bombarding her at once. She slid a large, spiked hand toward two warriors at near blinding speed, skewering one of them and smashing the other into a wall. The warrior stuck on her spike was a woman, who screamed in gruesome agony as she was flung into one of the burning structures around them.
There were shouts of panic and surprise from the confused Lokkadonian warriors as Dio’Mar struck with blinding speed and accuracy. Robert’s vision was blurred from some power she was emitting, but still managed to gawk at the sheer power of the ancient spirit. She was horrifying in her appearance, and he knew deep down that this was the closest thing he had seen to Dio’Mar’s true form.
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Heated air blasted him onto his back as two of the warriors combined their powers to attack her. One used fire, creating a pillar that stretched into the air, and another used their Dunamis to form a gale of wind that fed and spilled the flames over to her. Despite their efforts, Dio’Mar seemed completely unfazed by the attacks that struck her, only turning her grotesque face to them, screaming another terrible, gut-wrenching scream, and lunging to attack.
Robert heaved again, dryly, dragging himself across the bloodied mud. What the hell is this power? he thought. Getting up on his knees, he gasped for air, choking on the thick and smokey fumes that invaded his lungs.
“To the side!” a Lokkadonian warrior shouted to his left, hugging the building for cover but still attempting to command the battle. “Get your asses out of there!” He ducked as a massive, spiked hand crashed through the stone structure he was hiding behind, cleaving the top of it off and crumbling its remains to the mud below. He grunted as he leaped to the side, dodging the rubble that fell heavily around him. The sight brought unbridled rage to Robert’s mind. These Lokkadonians had raped and murdered the poor people of this village, for no other reason than that they were of a different clan. There was a moment in his mind that froze with the sudden realization that this small event could represent the potential future of all Rexun. For Alektor and his court, for Turak, for Demessa…
“Dio’Mar…” he croaked. The spirit paid no heed to his words, only continued her bloody work in dispatching the warriors, one by one. “Dio!” he yelled this time, still in vain.
A Dae woman screamed as she was torn clear in half, spilling blood and flesh on her companions below. Dio’Mar roared again, splitting the night with her voice, and finally, Robert saw the uncertainty of the warriors set in. Her hideous form bent and writhed with each attack, causing a scream of agony and spraying blood. Soon, the apparent commander of the remaining warriors called for retreat. They all began to run from the fighting, using their various powers to leap or move quickly to the north of the village.
Dio’Mar heaved herself upright and looked at the fleeing warriors growing smaller in the distance. She cocked her head as if amused at their feeble attempt to escape her wrath. A massive hand rose toward the backs of the Lokkadonians, and a gigantic burst of black energy exploded from it, sending shockwaves throughout the village and launching a glowing projectile toward the fleeing formation. It struck the center, and a blinding flash of light erupted, followed by an atrocious explosion.
Robert stared in horror at the display of sheer destructive power the little spirit had made. He had only glimpsed her true face once, while in his trance-like state at the bottom of the pit, but it terrified him then; now Robert wiped dripping sweat from his eyes and blinked at where Dio’Mar had been a moment before; she was gone. Robert began to look around the ruined village, seeing only rubble and corpses strewn about. Where? he thought.
“Here…” a small voice called from beside him.
Robert spun toward her, startled at the close proximity of her form. “Dio,” he said, eyes unfocused. “What… what the hell was all that?” He clasped his hands together, trying to keep them from shaking. “You killed all of them.”
“Did they not deserve their fate?” She floated to a small clearing and pointed to a group of twenty or so survivors from the village, all huddled together in a stone dwelling. Some were male, but the majority were female, many looking like they had been the victim of sexual abuses.
“My God,” Robert said, his senses clearing a bit more. “How did they get here? The fighting was so intense.”
Dio’Mar turned to him and buzzed with exhaustion. “I was able to guide them here with a portion of my consciousness… I am only dangerous to those who I wish to be, Robert… I would not bring such fury down on the perpetrators of these terrible crimes, and then kill those I wished to avenge…”
Her small mouth curled into a smile, and she floated to rest on his shoulder. “I am still not at full strength, Robert… I must recuperate… also… it would seem that you have been followed.”
~
Turak walked his Cro’kan through the blood-soaked mud of the village. Anger boiled in his chest like heated oil, and he seethed with every beat of his heart. No one in his party of eight said a word as they followed, but he could tell they felt similarly. Passing the corpses of Rexunii citizens, hacked and mutilated by the various Dunamis elements, his anger began to peel off into immense sadness. Then, as they continued, they reached the town center; it looked as though two giants had a fight to the death within it.
“What in all the great spirit’s names happened here?” Demessa asked, fear striking her features.
Turak said nothing. He couldn’t. Did the Lokkadonians do this? he thought, fear creeping into his mind as well. The idea that this could have been caused by one of their warriors was terrifying. Suddenly he saw the tattered scarlet of a Lokkadonian cloak stamped into the mud, blue blood staining it. He halted his mount and held his arm up to stop the rest of his party.
There were several moments of shock as he took the time to examine the rest of the battlefield. There were many dead Lokkadonian warriors but killed in the most horrific ways possible. They were torn, crushed, eaten, and eviscerated. Innards and blood littered the area, and confusion set in.
“What could have done this, my Lord?” one of his warriors asked, his voice cracking slightly.
“I…” Turak said, swallowing hard, “…I don’t know.”
“Turak!” a familiar voice called from his right. Turak turned to see Prince Reku walking from between two shattered structures. He was holding a wounded Dae child in his arms and led what looked like two dozen, who trailed behind him, shaken and silent.
“Prince Reku?” Demessa asked cautiously.
Robert walked up to the mounted warriors, his grey cloak stained with ash, Dae blood, and some other questionable blotches. “These people need help,” he said.
“Reku,” Turak said, “what happened here? It has been completely destroyed. Did…” He paused at the question. “Did you do this?”
Robert shook his head and let out a long breath. “It was Dio’Mar… She lost it when she saw what the Lokkadonians were doing here.” He paused, as if lost in the memory. “She killed them all… every one of them.”
Turak reeled back at the news. “That’s… impossible… this doesn’t happen here in Eleutheros. Spirits slaughtering villages is… it just doesn’t happen here. Vohnavix maybe, but here.”
~
“I saw it with my own eyes, Turak.” Robert placed the child in the saddle in front of Turak. “You really think a Dae warrior could do something like this?”
“Yes…” Dio’Mar whispered in his mind. “There are some who can…”
The words made Robert flinch, and he looked back at the surviving civilians. They wept and grabbed at him, thanking him for their salvation. The gratitude was somewhat unwarranted, as he had nothing to do with it. Seeing the pain in their eyes, however, he knew that he could not leave them. Why save these few if I will leave them to die anyway? The thought tormented him, but he decided the moment he saw the bodies on the ground.
“Why did you leave?” Demessa asked, an intense fury in her eyes. “Tell me.”
Robert looked at her, with more resolve and determination than he had ever felt since he had come to this terrible and wonderful world, and spoke. “I needed to see for myself why I was fighting. If I was throwing in with the right side.” He glanced again at the survivors. “I know now that I am.”
~
Alektor massaged his brow again, his headache had been much more irritating than usual, but now it was damn near unbearable. The stress he had felt after the sudden disappearance of Robert had caused him to formulate new defensive strategies, but here he was, back in his palace with renewed resolve.
“You gave us quite a scare,” Alektor said, doing his best to remain calm.
“You said I needed to see it for myself…” Robert looked at his feet, acting visibly embarrassed by the whole situation. “I did, and I wanted to do it alone. No outside influence.”
“Fair enough.” Alektor continued. “So? What did you discover?”
Robert licked his lips. “Well, for starters, spirits are extremely powerful, and we shouldn’t fuck with them.”
Alektor nodded.
“And that if I sit around and do nothing when those bastards get here, I don’t think I would ever be able to forgive myself.” Robert looked to Turak, who still looked a bit distant after returning. “They were killing everyone. Men, children. And raping the surviving women; I have never seen anything like that before in my life.”
“So now you see.” Alektor continued. “Now you see the level of character these monsters have. The light in which they see our people. In our borders, we are villains. In theirs, we are slaves. Now they come here to visit their wrath upon us.” He stood from his chair and slammed an angry fist on the stone table. “They will find death here! In my land, we will churn their warriors into pulp and spit them back out. I don’t care how many they send!” He pointed his finger at Robert and narrowed his eyes. “Are you with us, Reku? Can we count on you in this coming battle?”
Robert swallowed hard, thinking of the companions he once called his friend and lover. He thought of Amynta, who was safe in her forest, studying the ways of the Spirits and more. Then, in a moment, they disappeared into the void of memory, and he said to Alektor, with absolute conviction, “Yes.”