III.

Bloodshed

The travel to Dreslon was more harrowing on my mind than I had expected—I've lost whatever drive once saw me through to Algirak. Serkukan had lost whichever anger once fueled him. Together, we were lethargic. Weak.

But in the eyes of those trying to take it all away, that lethargy slipped away and made way for rage.

"Kag tine, des taka!" shouted one of the steel-clad soldiers encroaching the town.

Cedric summoned Serkukan's red spear from thin air, launched it through the man's armor. He fell immediately at the devastating blow.

Then he took his newfound sword and held it before himself. More were coming. And as for his allies...

"Never did I think I'd be fighting alongside a human. Or an Etherian." said an axe-wielding ogre with a twisting grey beard—Norgurd, the town's mayor.

"Shut up and fight." Cedric replied. Serkukan was gnawing at the back of his mind. Begging for blood.

"Never liked you Sylvet." he remarked, charged forward into the fray of blades with a frenzied battle cry.

Cedric stood back and watched. There were too many soldiers, and they had dropped the organization that was allowing some amount of resistance—now they charged through the streets mercilessly, cutting down the ogres in their way with wide swings of maces and blades. The ogres stood no chance. If not for Serkukan, they'd already be extinct.

But Cedric was tired. His body could hardly take any more strain, ethereal or otherwise. To defend a town all alone was impossible—for an ordinary man.

"Is this enough bloodshed for you? Serkukan?" He minded the bodies spilled across the stones of the town. Dozens had fallen. Dozens more yet approached. His mind flashed back to Cromer, to what he had once done…

"Then take from me, too. They won't survive if we don't do it."

"We're running out of time."

Cedric fell to his knees as soon as the words came out. He watched from the ground as Norgurd fell, as his green head dropped unceremoniously to the dirt.

His chest tightened. He couldn't even gasp as the soldiers ran and charged at him. Some drew bows.

His mind flashed back again, this time to his arrest by the Hunters...

And then he felt his consciousness slip.

"Castelbre." a voice growled at him.

He inhaled sharply to ask, "Am I dead?"

"Just grazing the underworld."

Even with his eyes open, he couldn't see a thing. It was dark, oppressively so.

"Where am I?" Cedric asked.

"Azar'kara. From the time you were my prisoner."

"Akvum."

"You remember my name. So I left an impact after all."

"Your name is about all I remember. You captured me. Locked me up. Tortured me?"

"I didn't need to. You were already torturing yourself with the voices of Serkukan and Algirak. And what you'd done in Cromer."

"We killed Algirak in Freiya'kara. He wasn't alive when I reached your prison."

"...There is no death in Etheria."

"Last I checked, we're not in Etheria."

"Hm," he chuckled.

"If you're saying he's alive, say it plainly. I don't have time for your riddles, nor the energy."

There was a slight snicker. "He is alive. But there's nothing you can do about that. Many have tried to snuff him out. He always finds a way back in."

"So it was all for nothing?"

"I wouldn't say that. You've bought yourself some time away from him. We should be lucky to see a hundred years without his slithering grasp reinfecting our plane."

"That's plenty. Why were we in Harth?"

"You don't remember?"

"I hit my head."

There was a laugh, and Akvum said, "Men have ever been a forgetful bunch."

"Answer the question."

"How bold of you to make demands of me. Let me steer you in that same direction: does the name Rykaedi ring a bell? Seek her. She'll be in Calamon, now. They're all in Calamon..."

The voice echoed around the chamber of his mind, and then faded into silence.

"Wait—before you go… why did you do it? Why did you…"

The creaking of a steel door interrupted him. A light shone through the small crevices of his cell's window.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Faunia Vleren. He could already tell by the scent of flowery perfume, a luxury unattainable to those who did not call themselves Hunters.

He followed the light. He stared into it as the inner door to his cell began to open…

And then there she was—that woman with silver hair and glistening silver armor. A magick blue flame floated just over her head.

He grit his teeth.

And then a sharp inhalation. His body was cold. His lips stung. His chest and arms and legs tingled.

His face was against the dirt, but he didn't know it yet. It was the cheering from the survivors that jolted him awake. They had won—in a way.

Cedric had won it. For once, he had become a protector. Twice, if he considered Freiya'kara…

He dragged his hands over the ground as he squirmed and struggled to stand. He couldn't. He thought of his legs, how they had buckled and broken in his bout with Algirak—had they ever healed after all?

We have to get a move on. Nothing has changed. The Sylvet can take my place here. They won't let Calamon usurp their power.

He shut his eyes and pressed his forehead to wet and bloody mud. He let the sensation fill his mind.

No. No, dammit, but where would they have gone?

Etherian Knights? You and your friends surrendered yourselves to men?

Cedric snorted and finally dragged himself to his knees.

The ogres still clustered and shuffled past him, busy looting the dead Calamonians to add the metal plate to their own makeshift armors, or to tie those fine blades together to make homemade maces and shoddy armaments.

"We have to go to Calamon." he croaked.

Cedric looked away as though avoiding the conversation.

"So what if I am?"

"There's still no way to shut you up, is there?"

X

Faunia Vleren soon found herself waking up. She could hardly remember the past day—or so she thought.

{Faunia, it's been a week.}

She was too groggy to respond. She could hardly tell if she was alive, still. All that she had was that smell. That creeping smell all around her…

Death. It's the smell of…

She cracked her eyes open as much as she could muster. She felt around.

Cold skin. Wetness. Torn fabric.

She tried to gasp but found her lungs unmoving. She tried again.

Finally, that breath came in. Her heart began to move. Blood flowed.

But as for the reeking pile of bodies around her, the same could not be said.

{Someone spared you. They left you alive.}

"Wh… why?"

{I don't know. That group, they've all got Etherians.}

"So Kasian's Twelve knew all along…" her voice was a raspy whisper.

Faunia stirred. Her body was still weak.

"Where…?"

"We're not far from Cromer." Teal-armored Tirolith materialized and assisted Faunia to her feet. Their boots pushed down onto crackling and shifting bodies.

Faunia lurched over and vomited.

"Faunia, we have to go. If they come back, they'll kill you."

"Green. I'll find him."

"We need to leave Kylinstrom. We need to get far away from here."

"No. Not until I find that bastard."

"Faunia. You can't fight him." Tirolith was more stern-faced than Faunia had seen her yet. "We need to find Cedric."

They climbed, and soon rose to the top of the pit. As soon as her boots touched grass, she collapsed again.

"Faunia…"

"We're in… Dreslon? Why is there a pit like this…?"

Then she saw the smoke rising over the wood and stone buildings. The sky was burning bright red amidst the black ash. The leylines had been completely burnt out.

She struggled back to her feet. She drew for her rapier but found it missing.

Tirolith, instead, made a glass-like rapier of ice in her gloved hand.

"Cold…" she whimpered.

Her limp took her into cover behind the nearest building. She peeked out, just as far as she could without being seen.

{Here, listen…}

A strange sound of running water in her ears made Tirolith's ability manifest; two men were suddenly talking, as close as though they were there themselves.

"They died quickly. How were our forces cut off so easily?"

"An Etherian. One who escaped the Azar'kara project."

"This is your project, Ivalié. If you fail me again…"

Ivalié… Rat bastard.

"He will be dealt with. I've got my kindred after him already."

"Make sure he dies. If he comes back, I will not hesitate to put you down."

"You are not in charge here, Kogar. Make your attempt on my life, see how the rest react."

Faunia peeked her head out just a little more, hoping to catch a better glimpse of them.

Ivalié looked as calm and patient as he ever did in his blue-white collared robes, though his words betrayed his demeanor.

The other man, Kogar, was stiff and upright like a blade. He was large in size, almost the size of an ogre. The man in black and white. Not their leader, but…

"I've already dismissed Vekzul. He will return to Calamon with the others."

There's that name again. Everything stems from Calamon.

Kogar turned over the ogre body beneath him. A gesture with his hand called forth a swarm of black and white butterflies, which became a crooked scythe in his grip.

"Goodnight, beast."

And there went his blade.