XXV.

War

"That's four, now." Kogar stood from his seat with ferocity. "Four. If that doesn't compel you to act…"

The remaining four stared at him from their seats around Haketh's round table.

"He's going to attack the Petalfall. He's targeting his etherium."

"Etherium? Your humanity is showing…" Rykaedi smiled. "And I say, let him have it."

"He will slaughter Hemah. And then we're down five. This problem continues to prosper while you all sit idly by like dogs."

Jirtu cleared his throat and returned to fiddling with a circular black disc. It glowed spontaneously as he prodded it and dragged his fingers across its glossy surface.

Rykaedi looked to Throkos, then Ivalié, and then Vekzul. She turned to him again to say, "Okay, Kogar. We'll play your game. This time."

Vekzul lifted his head.

Jirtu placed his device atop the table.

Ivalié nodded.

Kogar's face distorted in confused rage. "Now you lot heed my call to action?"

She shook her head. "No, love. We're only preventing that pretty star from falling out of the sky."

He tilted his head in question.

Just like that, Vekzul warped away, Jirtu chanted to himself until he vanished, and Rykaedi turned into the shadow of the chamber, where she too dissipated into nothing.

And Kogar stood with his fists tightly locked.

Alone again. Agitated, again.

"Ghh…"

Kogar looked. Ivalié had hunched slightly over the table in pain. He was still reeling from the healing spell cast upon him. Throkos was still staring at the black-and-white man.

He stormed over. He reached down and grabbed Ivalié's throat, lifted him out of his seat…

"So self-righteous." he muttered into his eyes.

And he crushed—

"Do you know why she keeps you alive?"

He turned to Throkos.

"Why Rykaedi hasn't killed you yet, do you know?"

"It wouldn't be possible to kill me."

"Would you like to put that to the test?"

Kogar dropped Ivalié, letting him fall clumsily to the floor with a clinging gasp.

Throkos stood.

And they both summoned forth their weapons…

Throkos spun his spiked flail in his hand. He gave it momentum enough to crush plate armor. Then the one head grew into two, then five, then nine, until his flail was nigh a new weapon entirely.

Kogar narrowed his eyes. "Save this energy for after we kill the boy. Then I'll gladly rip your spine out."

And Kogar, too, warped away in a spiral of black and white magic.

Throkos scanned Ivalié first.

(He'll live. But…)

He looked down to his hand, clenched and unclenched his fist…

(My venom… didn't work…?)

X

"So we all have an understanding?" Rykaedi asked of her assembly.

Vekzul, Ivalié, Throkos, and Jirtu all nodded or gave meager grunts and sighs of agreement. They sat in the grass, on the stones, and otherwise stood and collected themselves in that serene Calamon woods. The sun was high above them. Ivalié had to wipe away his sweat.

"We will not kill Cedric Castelbre."

"And what of Hemah?" asked Throkos.

"He can handle her. If he can't, so be it. Ivalié, you have the spell?"

He gave a dull nod.

"Jirtu, our device?"

The black-hooded man raised his hand and revealed a black ball, with a hollow disc spinning around it. "Two thirds of a whole. Can completing it truly be so simple?"

Rykaedi would have smiled, if not for her skinless face. So she simply nodded instead. "Good." She clapped her hands together with a rattle. "And, so—"

"Rykaedi." Kogar marched out of a wormhole toward her.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Careful, love, you'll give your location away doing that!"

Butterflies. His scythe formed.

Throkos stood slightly. Jirtu and Ivalié tensed up. The black device went into hiding behind his back.

|And perfect timing.|

They all felt the gentle weight on the leylines. The stage between Hemah and Cedric had opened.

Vekzul stood.

"Explain this congregation."

"We're having lunch!" she gestured to them with enthusiasm.

"Enough of your lies and jokes. You're conniving."

"Thank you."

His face shifted in irritation.

"Anything else?"

He glanced at the rest of the assembly. Then, he said, "The fight is beginning. Don't waste my time."

And his wormhole took him away.

"Hmm, I wonder what that was all about?" She shrugged.

Jirtu stood and spoke: "We shouldn't delay, he's right about that much. How much longer can we stall him?"

"Forever. That's the miracle of my charm and wits."

None appreciated her joke. They only hoped it would prove somewhat true.

"Well, indeed, no time to waste!"

Rykaedi spun and snapped her fingers together with a terrible snap! A purple gateway opened beside her.

Jirtu was first through, followed by Vekzul and Throkos. Ivalié hesitated, but eventually went through on his own.

Rykaedi then gave a chilling laugh.

|It's all falling into place!|

And she, too, stepped into the portal…

X

Uco dropped from the trees. When he hit the ground, he landed into a bow before a dark silhouette in the jungle's morning light.

The figure was covered in sweat. They dabbed at their forehead with a large, thick leaf that seemed to act as a rag in absorbing moisture.

"Uco, that you? Never could tell you feline bastards apart…"

"The very same. My time is short, you must send a message."

"That ice; clever idea."

He looked to the ice stuck to his chest.

"Didn't know you were a mage, though."

"Pek, listen to me."

The voice went quiet. The silhouette didn't move.

"A daemon marches north. She bested me in combat—"

"Did you face her alone?"

His mouth fell agape, wordless.

"You know better. You really are trying to die."

Uco hung his head.

The man leaned down and scratched the back of Uco's neck. "Do you cats, uh, like this? Or am I overstepping?"

"Faunia Vleren. The Silver Sword. She marches with a daemon named Tirolith."

"I'll take care of it. Message received."

"Thank you. I know not how much time remains—"

His eyes went wide. The ice began to turn red. And then he collapsed into the dirt and grass beneath him.

"And so the first victims of war are had."

He let his long black hair fall down to touch Uco's back as he leaned down, but quickly threw it over his shoulder again as he caressed the body of his dead friend.

"Pek. That's not me. Pek?"

A figure rustled behind him.

"Never could he tell our kind apart, either. Hurts my feelings."

The one in the rear tilted back and let his dark hood fall to reveal violet, curving horns atop his head. Long black hair ran down the center of his head, all the way to his lower back.

"And daemon, what a harsh word." Pek said to himself. His eyes glowed as he reached out to the azar's corpse.

"Wait."

A moment of silence.

"Go ahead."

And the body fell into the earth.

"Magi kana ov." said Pek.

"The war will bleed into these trees, soon. Lyros knows. His council knows. Who acts as diplomat these days?"

"A man named Kasval. I wonder…"

"If he, too, bleeds Calamonian blood?"

Pek nodded.

"Suppose we'll find out soon enough. Let tip the balance." He picked up a leaf.

"Let tip the balance."

Fiiiiiiiiiii!

The leaf made a beautiful call. Only after a second was it answered: three freakish creatures dropped down from above to greet them.

They were covered in feathers of blue, green, red, orange, and purple. Vibrant. Beautiful. And yet, their forms were anything but. Long, spindly legs like birds. Necks that bowed forward to compliment their hooked beaks. Lashes that would compliment the most beautiful of women.

No hands, either, which neither of them could comprehend the difficulty of. Could they even open doors? Lucky Alisa has its own infrastructure for 'em.

"You three are…" He bowed as though introducing himself.

They didn't answer. They looked at the two like predators sizing up prey.

"I am Elos. This is my brother Pek."

Pek smiled.

"We have a message to Lyros—an Etherian known as the Silver Sword marches to his gates. Kill her, if she isn't dead already."

The birds took off to the sky.

The message was received.

"Every time I see them, I do wonder what exactly an Alisar is." Pek remarked.

"An apt question. Once, I believe the term referred to our kin alone. Now it blankets all the freaks of magic born of wizards' idle hands."

"We are not of the same cloth."

"No. We were here first."

"With the elves."

"With the fae."

"With the men."

They turned their caped backs to the north—the south was calling.