“There you are!” Ezekiel yelled in frustration and as Arakiel turned to the side, he saw the man burning ablaze in a fiery silver aura. His eyes’ argent halo gleamed softly, subtly in the sparse light of the torchpost.
The other Mortal Ascendant briefly assessed the situation and gave him a small, curt smile. His voice, however, sounded urgent. “I do appreciate you listening to me – but we’ve no time for that!”
“What happened?!” Arakiel asked, his surprise at the man’s sudden appearance winning over everything else that happened right now. Along with it, he briefly managed to free his mind from Nyanna’s spell.
“The Shamshierum made their move, but they won’t make it without us!” Ezekiel urged once more as he tossed a heavy set of iron manacles towards Arakiel. Where had he even kept that?
“Your sister and Selene managed to get away for now, but if we don’t hurry, things’ll be rough! Return towards the square and quickly! You’ll spot me!”
With those words, he dropped Selene’s aspect, turned around and hurried away.
“W-what happened?” Nyanna asked in a low, teary voice. She had most likely not understood a word as Ezekiel had spoken in the Kalanite tongue.
Arakiel sheathed the dagger, internally reminding himself to wash the scabbard out later. He hurried over towards the place where Ezekiel had thrown the shackles, picking them up right away.
Having made up his mind at last, he swiftly returned to a still intimidated Nyanna, who he dragged across towards the nearby iron brazier’s metallic legs as he had no other object to properly shackle her to, nor did he have any time to search for one.
“You’re in luck, Nyanna.” Arakiel commented as he shackled the noblewoman’s ankles behind the heavy metal leg after which he tied her wrists closely together. “The situation's changed. You might be able to put your words into actions after all.”
He could tell that she did not compute, but her initial face was one of relief as death’s shadow had passed her unscathed. It mattered not.
“I hear screaming,” Aurora then commented from the side. “Lots of it.”
“Come, let’s find Mellia and the others,” Arakiel urged and once he was done with the captive, he reached out for Aurora, drawing her close. “I’ll carry you.”
She nodded and he nearly drained her of all fire in an instant, picking her up in the process. Then, he charged after Ezekiel.
Around two corners later, he also began to hear the noises that came from the central square which was still a bit away. Screams of all kinds, clashes of steel and more screams. He also saw instances of fire far in the back, some thatched roofs having been set ablaze in normal fire.
He made a mad dash towards the square, fully focusing Aurora’s fire towards his legs. Both had burned through a large portion of her soul in far too short a time, but he still had two dawnshards to call upon.
Not a good amount, but it was something.
About two minutes later, he saw the first residents of the town – mostly children – running away in a panicked hurry. There were a few mothers with them by the looks of it and through their shouts and screams, Arakiel heard the sounds of battle coming from the square, mixed in with two distincts cries.
“Revenge for Desert’s Weal!”
“Revenge for the Crimson Week!”
To the side at a crossing road, he suddenly caught a glimpse of a silver flame and when he turned in full speed, he spied Ezekiel with Selene and Mellia. His sister’s hands were glowing in astral and nature’s light.
Selene, having noticed him first, said something towards Ezekiel who then looked his way as well.
Slowing down his pace, he returned about a quarter of Aurora’s fire to her, shouting. “What happened?”
“You forgot your sword is what happened,” Ezekiel, who had apparently carried Count Filann’s gear below his cloak, pointed out right away.
“I don’t need that thing,” Arakiel countered, overplaying his surprise and the ensuing embarrassment with bravado.
When he came to a standstill, he needed just a moment to catch his breath while Mellia finished her enchantment. “Offer thy hand, brother.” She spoke without having turned just yet.
“Aurora, please provide us your astral shields – we’ll need everything we can get our hands on,” Ezekiel immediately followed up.
“Of course – Arakiel, if you please?”
He obliged and handed her the first dawnshard as he looked towards a little darkened alley to the side. He felt Mellia taking his hand, but didn’t deem it necessary just yet.
Further behind the dark, a battle was happening in full swing.
“The Shamshierum set fire to the southern district and when the count noticed and sent some people to investigate, they quietly jumped the people at the feast with weapons drawn. It’s quite a bloodbath, but the count is a damn good leader and he’s quickly rallying his people, especially those with military training, around him.” Ezekiel laid out, adding. “There’s also a lot of people that are attacking the Shamshierum, emboldened by alcohol. They’re ineffective but their hatred and lack of fear make for quite a nice wave of bodies, giving the truly dangerous ones time to organize and buff themselves.”
Arakiel signaled understanding and the planeswalkers began their pre-battle buffs as quickly as possible. He opted out of his air shield in addition to being able to deflect the first hit. He’d need everything for the battle itself.
Mellia collapsed on the spot, saying that she’d need a while before she could contribute something meaningful again, although those two enchantments alone would serve them well enough already. Arakiel carried her into the dark side alley, where she was to wait alongside Selene, whom Ezekiel tasked with watching over Mellia.
Then, Ezekiel, Arakiel and Aurora set out towards the square, past fleeing mothers holding their babes and children alongside some very few elderly people.
They threw them odd glances, but didn’t stick around to find out what the foreigners intended to do.
The closer Arakiel came towards the square, the more he heard the intensity of the fighting. It wasn’t just steel meeting steel or iron. Often, it was steel meeting flesh or cloth, accompanied by groans, screams and the like.
Above, the moon shone relatively brightly and the air was cool, but it had begun to reek of blood and less savory odors.
Arakiel’s body had mostly recovered from Nyanna’s spell, the upcoming fight or flight situation proving a more potent diversion than mere lust.
And then the well-lit central square came in sight, the outskirt soil having already been soaked in crimson color.
It was a grand, chaotic melee, with the Shamshierum having attacked from the outside while the feasting people had begun to gather and reorganize in the middle.
Tables had been upturned, forming temporary but effective obstacles and many, many drunken men and women tried to assail the Shamshierum who were thoroughly dressed in black clothing which helped them occasionally hide in a little streak of shadow, of which there weren’t many, but some.
Some of the outer bonfires had been quenched.
From where Arakiel stood, one desert dweller fought against half a dozen unarmed or barely armed men and women and although their weapons struck true, their opponents were many and didn’t recoil right away, rage and drunkenness driving them onward.
To the side, a pair of Shamshierum under leadership of Rahul was in the process of freeing Zari Amar, who burned so brightly in yellow flames that it was impossible to make him out. Ibun Qasim was there as well, readying to give the jinnum not only his sword, but also an ironskin enchantment undoubtedly.
Further in the back, towards the two central campfires with the oxens, he could just barely make out Count Eremon and the countess, both of which were not only rallying to them, they were also casting spells.
The countess spread some sort of thin green light over roughly five to eight people at a time while her husband send out thin reddish lights.
If Arakiel didn’t know any better, they were both mages – thaumaturges to be more precise. Fire Thaumaturges could raise people’s morale and spirit, bolstering them to grow beyond their limits while nature ones were experts in manipulating people’s basic emotions – in the countess’s case, she caused her citizens to become utterly enraged.
Morale plays – they were perfectly countering the thing that Zari Amar’s plan had relied on – a mass rout born from a swift, decisive ambush.
“What do we do?” Ezekiel asked, his faintly glowing blue sword at the ready.
Arakiel shared his observations and then concluded. “We gotta take out the countess. She’s driving her people into a maniacal frenzy.”
“In order to buy time for the soldiers to properly buff up,” Ezekiel returned, pointing towards a relatively quiet man that tried to slip towards the middle. “They’re trying to assemble their mage corps…”
“But they’re distracted, we gotta take them out,” Arakiel agreed and then turned to the side. “Aurora, I can’t let you follow me into the crowd. Wait up there on the stage and support me. I’ll be with you as soon as someone tries to reach you, alright?”
“Yes, my love,” Aurora returned, giving him a reassuring smile. “Make me proud to serve you, oh conqueror.”
“Remember, mages first – we move as one!” Ezekiel ordered and added right as his outline burst into silver flames. “Can’t miss me with the aura.”
Arakiel took on Aurora’s aspect as well, nodded – and then both charged ahead and into the fray.
He stayed close to Ezekiel who mostly shoved people aside with a surprising amount of strength.
There were so many people around him – panicked, enraged, maniacal or calm ones. Men, women, even some children, their clothes mostly covered with grease and other bits of food, but some showed bloodied limbs or attire.
All around, so many screams, shouts, cries for vengeance and revenge.
Ezekiel reached the older man they had singled out before he made his way towards the square’s inner circle where the defenders had begun make actual defensive formations.
Arakiel suddenly singled out a particular scream and over there, right next to the count, a man had just collapsed with an arrow through his neck.
Ezekiel stuck the mage through the heart from behind while covering his mouth and when one of the adjacent men noticed, he punched him in the face with his free hand’s plated gauntlet.
But then, they heard Rahul’s voice booming over the square.
“SHAMSHIERUM, JUSTICE FOR JENAYA!”
At first, nothing happened as Ezekiel urged Arakiel towards the next mage, a young woman that had previously healed Zari Amar, but then he heard another cry, one directed to him.
“Arakiel, get out of there!” Aurora shouted and although there were so many other cries, he heard her voice loud and clear.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Ezekiel, we gotta retreat, NOW!” Arakiel urged and although his party member didn’t understand, he did not reject the order.
“JUSTICE FOR JENAYA!” More voices echoed, carrying the accent of the Holy Transcended’s Chosen people.
A bad, horrible feeling overcame Arakiel as he and Ezekiel tried to get out of the crowd which seemed almost aimless in its direction, with too many going to too many places at once.
And then, from the corner of his eyes, he saw a little thing coming his way, a part of it burning with quite sizable sparks.
It was a flask of some kind and…
Uh-oh.
“Flare your flame!” Arakiel ordered as he focused on the concept of ‘fire’ with ‘flare’, and only ‘flare’, feeding it an entire dawnshard’s red.
In a split-moment the world around him began to burn golden and with it, his own, barely a week-old clothing.
Something cracked and then, a whole lot screams as some kind of explosion happened – but it was just one, it was several dozen in rapid succession and although he and hopefully Ezekiel fought fire with fire, the multiple, more or less simultaneous shockwaves still knocked him off of his feet.
The impact on the hardened soil hurt and all around him, people were flung over – and someone even landed on him, making him groan while the person above him began to scream as he was burned alive from above and below.
Aurora’s golden flames flared up and away and while they kept him safe, it did not apply to anyone else.
The woman above him screamed at the top of her lungs and Arakiel hurried to shove her off in order to get up.
Another wave of shouting, even louder and more hateful than before. “JUSTICE FOR JENAYA! BURN IN THE FIRES OF RETRIBUTION!”
Still seeing nothing but gold around him, Arakiel finally managed to remove the body on him, only for an explosion to happen in his immediate vicinity.
He thought to have heard Aurora calling out to him, but his ears were ringing and there were so many screams and it smelled of burnt flesh, smoke and singed fabric.
Arakiel was left a daze, feeling stupefied.
Damn Zari Amar and his cronies could’ve mentioned that they had brought tons of firebombs.
A little later, he scrambled to his feet and as Aurora’s flames waned, he was looking at a sea of burning bodies all around him, bodies that were screaming in horror as they tried to put out of the fire, often in vain.
Behind him, he noticed Ezekiel beneath two bodies that burned in orange-yellow while his own silver fire came close to ceasing.
Arakiel knelt down, feeling the heat all on his bare skin and although he hadn’t looked, he could tell that nothing of the fine silk had survived.
Ezekiel was the same. Parts of his plate armor had survived, but only his slightly-too large artifact seemed to have come out unscathed as though fire couldn’t touch it in the slightest.
Arakiel, who still wore Aurora’s aspect, reached through the flames and shoved the bodies off, even if it burned his hands. Mellia’s healing would take care of it.
It hurt, but he needed to free Ezekiel while somewhere in the front, Countess Muirne screamed some of her childrens’ names while most of the Middles were still reeling from the shocks.
Out the outskirts of the square, the Shamshierum were beginning to viciously bring their curved swords to bear, slashing at anyone and anything that was still standing.
“I will MURDER YOU ALL!” Count Eremon screamed at the top of his lungs, ordering. “MEN, KILL THIS FILTH! REVENGE FOR THE BOUNDARY!”
“Revenge for the Boundary!” Many voices answered from behind upturned tables and the like.
The remaining Middles were charging in every direction, including Arakiels who managed to bring a dazed Ezekiel to his feet with a rather painful price.
“Guests!” The count shouted their way, his eyes having spotted the silver-golden pair of more or less naked men in the middle of a sea of burning, thrashing bodies. “Help us kill this filth and I will reward you most handsomely!”
Arakiel felt one dawnshard in his hand and as he looked down, he saw the other. As he knelt down to pick it up, he inquired whether Ezekiel was fine.
“I… I think,” the slaver returned and to Arakiel’s surprise, his silver outline shimmered as though he was constantly taking and dropping Selene’s aspect. Furthermore, his voice sounded slightly cracked and thoroughly dazed. The man even subconsciously reached for his left hand as if to check whether it was still there.
After having picked up the second shard, Arakiel grabbed his party member’s shoulders, slightly rocking it as he looked around.
One side, the Middles coming their way while behind him, the Shamshierum were on the move. And they were in-between – now, which side would each faction think they’re on because suddenly, Arakiel’s wasn’t sure given that Zari Amar’s men had bombed him.
A brief moment later, Ezekiel shook his head as his aura began to stabilize and he held his head. “Shit…”
“You good? We got problems.” Arakiel said.
“A-aye, your sister… angel…” Ezekiel commented in a staggered manner, his voice still relaying some sort of relief.
“Tell her yourself.”
“I’ll not… that satisfaction…” His friend returned in a low, uneven voice, his speech still stifled. “Good… with fire…”
“Ezekiel, focus. Now!” Arakiel urged as he tried to assess the situation.
Most of the Middle citizens were out of the picture, but the count and his guards were still kicking and, by the looks of it, mostly buffed at this point. They were also rather furious.
On the other side, a part of the Shamshierum had swapped to their bows while the others were slaughtering Middle citizens without mercy.
Aurora was safe from what Arakiel could see, but they were not, not at all.
He needed to buy them time, needed time for Ezekiel to get his bearings back. The man had been hit much harder than Arakiel.
The count, of course!
“Give us a moment!” Arakiel exclaimed towards the Count Eremon, hoping that Zari Amar and Rahul would not misunderstand their intentions.
It worked.
The count’s faction rushed past them, demanding vengeance from the desert rats. Count Eremon didn’t even stop to inquire, he just charged past them with furious eyes, sword raised. He, like many of the other soldiers, only had their sidearms and basically no armor.
A bit further back, three members of the town’s mage corps were starting to cast elemental evocations at the Shamshierum – small lightning bolts, bolts of condensed frost or a few small balls of fire. They might seem pitiful compared to what Arakiel was used to from Kalanaar, but their effect was immediate and notable.
Several arrows went their way in return, but swirling winds misdirected them just before they hit.
Arakiel didn’t get involved just yet, instead choosing to guard Ezekiel in case a stray arrow or something else went his way. He could only hope that Mellia’s enchantment pulsated soon and that it’d be enough to break him from his stupor.
And then, when the two sides clashed, Ezekiel finally snapped to attention, his eyes focusing while the grip on his sword intensified.
“Mage corps, us – now.” Arakiel stated as he applied some pressure to Ezekiel’s shoulder. He noticed that their auras did not mix well, they tried to constantly displace each other.
“I’m there now, sorry.” The other Ascendant apologized.
“All good, let’s go. Fight’s not over. It’s just begun.”
“I’ll have a word with that damned jinnum!” Ezekiel spat out and then both charged not after Count Eremon, but away from him, right towards the middle of the square, towards the ones that were most vulnerable to melee.
The three mages alongside the countess that had stayed behind noticed quickly and without hesitation, they sent the next wave of spells against them while loudly calling treason.
Arakiel and Ezekiel had some trouble jumping over the wailing and thrashing bodies and when the countess without second thought drove some of her burning subjects into a wild berserk to stall them, the two decided to split up, circling around the barricades and bodies.
Arakiel drew on the red of his second and last shard and as soon as the sigil formed, he grabbed it and lobbed a golden ball of fire at the elderly man that focused onto Ezekiel, having just hurled another fireball that undoubtedly killed some citizens – but the Middles were determined to the point where their citizens’ lives didn’t count for much.
The man went up in golden flames when the orb connected which drew attention towards him which in turn gave Ezekiel a way to quickly accelerate, right towards a woman who had just launched an ice spear at Arakiel that he only managed to evade by jumping into a sea of burnt, spilled food.
The table which had carried it saved him from a grievous injury as the sharp icicle pierced through the wood, but not by much.
“You traitorous dogs!” Count Eremon shouted from behind and judging by the volume, he was approaching fast.
Arakiel scrambled up and as he dashed further towards the two campfires with the oxen, he saw Ezekiel just having downed the ice woman by reverse wielding his blade, bringing its crossguard to bear against her skull.
He immediately went for the next target.
The countess’s hands began to glow green and she moved to intercept Ezekiel that was just about to strike at the Air Evoker who had just hit Ezekiel for barely any effect with a bolt of lightning.
Arakiel wished to blink, but he only had enough soul for one more and that one needed to strike well and true if he had to use it. And so he jumped on the table’s edge and made a risky but sizable leap, jumping over some civilians who were hiding and whimpering behind the table. They had successfully sought shelter.
“Ezekiel, left!” Arakiel shouted and in the most likely last possible moment the other Mortal Ascendant became aware of the countess who was surprisingly fast for her dress and perhaps age. He raised his blade to block her as he couldn’t evade but instead of finishing her cast, the countess changed her gesture and waved her hands over her opponent in more or less melee range. As she did, her hands turned green and began to emit a greenish light, causing Ezekiel to briefly stare at her with open eyes, only for his lips to form to a smirk.
Count Eremon screamed his wife’s name and whatever effect she had hoped to achieve did not manifest.
To the side, the Air Evoker was about to unleash another spell towards Ezekiel, but Arakiel was faster, having snuck up to him. He grabbed the man from behind and quietly slit his throat.
Meanwhile, Ezekiel backhanded the countess with the plated, burnt gauntlet that then slipped from his hand with no decent straps remaining.
It had to have been quite a bit of force, for she merely collapsed and although the Count should’ve only been a Fire Thaumaturge, he was suddenly there in record speed while bringing his weapon down at Ezekiel, who managed to block in time, but the sheer force alone made him support the blade with his unguarded hand.
The count shouted an insult while Arakiel tried to sneak up on him, but when he was about to lunge with his dagger, the count swirled around with a wide slash and if Arakiel’s instincts hadn’t forced him back, he would’ve suffered a large gash across his chest.
Twice, the astral shield did not manifest.
“I should’ve known you were traitors all along!” Count Eremon accused in a hateful voice, but he had no further time to hurl insults.
Arakiel’s attack had given Ezekiel time to regain a proper footing and the fight began in earnest.
They tried to stagger their attacks against the count, forcing him to always switch back to front and although the man was exceptionally fast for someone who was very drunk, he was also burning himself up. Fire Thaumaturges could force people to perform beyond their limits, but only for a brief time and the toll on the body was quite something. It was usually paired with fatigue-recovering enchantments, but given how drenched the count was, that didn’t seem to be the case.
And while he was pushing his limits, Arakiel and Ezekiel were still more or less in good shape, even after several minutes of fighting.
Arakiel partially lost himself to the rhythm of dropping Aurora’s aspect in order to strike, evade, fall back at which point he picked it up once more in order to potentially cast some spells, only to drop it once more as he went in for another roundabout. A deadly dance that he and Ezekiel had practiced over many nights using nothing but their hands – yet even though Arakiel only used his dagger, it came easy and more importantly, right. The only thing he lamented was the lack of any dawnshards. He had two with air, but nothing much else.
Ezekiel attacked, the count deflected which led to Arakiel dashing in from the side, only to execute a feint that saw him slash the air which caught his opponent off guard, enough for Ezekiel to follow up with a small and quick thrust that finally connected.
In this way, the two began to whittle down the count who, despite undoubtedly being a higher level then them, could not properly guard against them. They were on a relatively small arena, leaving him little room to retreat if he wanted to keep them away from his wife.
And then, when Aurora’s astral shield finally happened and blinded him, Arakiel was dead ready. Again, he dropped his seraphim’s aspect and charged in low, bringing his dagger not against the man’s upper body, but his left leg.
He buried the dagger deep inside, leaving it there. When the count cried out and swirled around in an attempt to strike him, Ezekiel aimed for the other leg and unlike Arakiel’s lousy dagger, his friend had an actual sharp weapon and the other guy had no armor or defense of any kind.
In short, he chopped off the leg, causing the count to fall over, yet when Arakiel looked around, he noticed that there were still too many soldiers and too few Shamshierum.
He could only surmise that the soldiers that had investigated the fire returned at last.
“Drop the spells!” Arakiel urged the count, but he got only malice and hatred in response. Nonetheless, he repeated the demand. “Last warning! Drop the spells or you’re dead!”
The count spat out with disgust, stating. “I’d rather die with honor than beg for my life!”
“Kill him, it’ll break the spells!” Arakiel then ordered and Ezekiel drove Count Filann’s blade through Count Eremon’s heart without hesitation, ending his life in an instant.
Zari Amar would probably be livid with anger, but this way, he might still have some soldiers to call upon.
Drawing upon the air in one of Aurora’s shards, he focused on the concept of ‘air’ with ‘voice’ and ‘heighten’.
“Count Eremon is dead!” Arakiel then announced, his voice booming over all the other sounds, loud enough that some fighting soldiers stopped in their tracks, looking around and towards him.
The Shamshierum not only used this lapse in concentration, but with the count’s buffs fading, the soldiers suddenly found their bodies performing not quite as quickly as they were used to. The results were devastating, with many Shamshierum landing sizable or even mortal blows against their opponents.
The count’s death shook the soldiers, but it didn’t cause them to despair. Some tried to raise rallying cries but the momentum was clearly favoring the attackers now – and they went all-in.
So did Ezekiel and Arakiel, who began to jump any soldier that they could find until at some point, none was left to strike down while cries of surrender could be heard, cries which quickly found echoes.
Arakiel, having picked up some random sword, briefly froze and looked around. His entire body was utterly drenched in blood and Ezekiel didn’t look much better.
Both still wore their seraphim’s aspect, but their bodies were nearing its limit even with Mellia’s enchantment still pulsating regularly. There was only the stench of burnt meat, smoke, blood and people having lost control of their faculties.
In short, it reeked horribly and Arkaiel had never in his entire life seen so much death in one spot.
His feet were standing in guts and gore and when his gaze eventually fell onto Aurora, he saw her throwing up.
For a split-second, he considered blinking over to her, but then decided against it.
He ran over, but in his mind, he still heard the screams, the shouts, the clashes of steel meeting steel.
Arakiel didn’t even want to imagine how his seraphim felt.
But, the battle appeared won.
Boundary had fallen, and with it, any hope to avert the upcoming war between the Middle Kingdom and the Southern Cities.