The monk led them down different hallways, changing course as automatons poured in from random directions. Each time the automatons fell behind. Revin lost track of where they were, only desperately running to escape. Always running. It felt like something in his knee had ripped. It took every ounce of his strength not to fall too far behind.
It only took a few more turns for Revin to realize they were being directed somewhere by the suddenly appearing machines. The old monk screamed when they turned another corner only to be blocked yet again. The monk let out a loud curse that made Revin gasp. They turned down a hall to the right and burst into a massive room.
Its ceiling was probably half as tall as the walking building itself. Small and large flying ships sat on the ground or hung from the ceiling. Several medium-sized transports loomed beyond, making the room seem even larger.
Revin looked back through the door he had just come through just in time to see a squad of automatons turning the corner.
“Go!” Revin shouted. He closed the door behind them as they rushed in. He breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at the monk, who was scanning the silent, cavernous room. Their own movements echoed loudly.
The monk pointed forward and to the right. “That way.”
Revin saw sky and sunshine through the chamber beyond. He smiled as he limped, Omrai holding him up under his shoulder. They were going to make it!
His heart sank when the room thundered with the sounds of thousands of marching feet. Automatons burst in from all directions. They poured out of transports. They climbed up through trapdoors in the floor. In moments, they surrounded Omrai and his men, thousands of turquoise-eyed monsters blocking the way to freedom.
“Horned Ankylo, now!” Omrai shouted. The soldiers drew their rifles and blades and formed a circle. Revin and the monk in the middle. Revin looked at him. He looked exhausted, as if he were mere moments away from tears.
The automatons stayed a dozen feet away, their own weapons pointing, but they only watched. Suddenly a man in a dark tunic and a mask covering the top half of his face stepped out of the mass of automatons, a wide smile on his face.
Jebuthar.
Revin’s heartbeat quickened.
“Revin, Omrai.” Jebuthar nodded at each of them in turn “I see you’ve met Beadoróf the great . Disrupting the plans of God again, old man?”
The old monk shook his head, “No, it is you, squanderer of great potential, who has been disrupting the plans of God.”
“I can’t expect a heretical monk to comprehend the divine purposes to which I am assigned.”
“Divine purposes?” Revin said, interjecting. He laughed, but it came out more forced than he’d wanted it to. “You’re not anything more than greedy. Now, where’s Narazoth?”
“He’s not here,” Jebuthar said, tapping the hilt of his sword. “I didn’t expect you’d see him. He is not supposed to get involved with my trap.”
“What do you mean?” Omrai said, his voice low and angry.
“I had a feeling the Koyejian would fail!” he said, laughing, “and if he failed in getting Kaiato to kill you, or killing you himself, then the information on his person would lead you here . And the memory Narazoth fed you would lead you to Beadoróf’s cell. You thought you had an advantage. You thought you were finally getting a break. But now, all your advantages have been revealed for the traps they were.”
Jebuthar drew his sword, “I will remove you from this world, you will no longer oppose the divine mandate for world peace and unity.”
Without another word, Omrai jumped forward.
Not today! Omrai thought. He swung down on an automaton elbow, breaking the gears. This was it. This was his moment to take his enemy and run him through. It didn’t matter if he, Revin, and all his men here died today. If he could kill Jebuthar, then Narazoth’s power would be weakened, the automaton armies would be fractured.
Shifra and Kaiato could carry on the fight from here.
Jebuthar’s sword leaped to meet Omrai’s strike. Omrai released and swung again, thrusting with his spear-tip. Jebuthar moved to the side with an unnatural agility, dodging the spear-tip and smacking Omrai’s blade so hard Omrai’s hand hurt.
Out of the corner of his eye, Omrai saw that his men looked uncertain. Was this a duel, or was it war?
“Stay back!” he shouted. He looked at Jebuthar. Jebuthar gave Omrai a knowing grin.
Jebuthar was shorter, so why was he so intimidating?
Omrai focused on Jebuthar, trying to get a read on the man. Once again, he encountered the maelstrom of feelings and emotions.
That moment of distraction almost cost him his life. Jebuthar’s sword went for Omrai’s throat, he sidestepped and dropped into a crouch, the blade hissed just past his head. Omrai gripped his sword even tighter and scowled. He brought his sword in an upward swing, standing back to his full height, putting every muscle in his body to work on the powerful blow. An attack that many fighters, weak and strong, had fallen prey to before, cloven in two.
Jebuthar blocked it. One-handed. A simple sliding parry, tossing Omrai’s momentum aside like a child’s stick. Jebuthar’s left hand was still behind his back.
Jebuthar finally moved into the offensive. He struck Omrai’s blade and spear, knocking them aside with enough force that it was all Omrai could do to not drop them. Then, in almost the same movement, he kicked Omrai in the chest.
It was like getting clubbed by an ankylo’s tail. Omrai tumbled back into the circle of his men, his weapons clattering to the floor. When he finally gained his footing, he looked at Jebuthar. How could such a small man pack so much power? Omrai grabbed his weapons as his men helped him stand.
Jebuthar sheathed his sword. Omrai looked at the man incredulously.
Jebuthar’s grin widened, and he stretched out his right hand. With his left, he pulled his sleeve back to reveal plates of dark metal within on a complex bracer on his arm, the dark metal touching his bare skin.
It was the same dark metal as the automaton’s weapons.
What is that?
Jebuthar flexed his arm. Omrai charged.
And everything became heavy.
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Omrai stumbled to his knees and dropped his incredibly heavy weapons. Dizziness threatened to overcome him. He tried to stand but found his strength ineffective. It took every ounce of effort just to stay on his knees, locking furious gazes with Jebuthar.
He heard grunts and clangs as his men behind him fell to the floor, the magical force too much. In a moment his strength was spent, and he fell too. He felt as if a hundred sandbags were dropped on top of him, and the pain increased. This was it. This was how he died. Just like his men. Just like his saurians.
With much strain, he looked up, his face turned towards his men. They squirmed against the force pushing on them. None had success.
But Revin still stood… completely unaffected.
Revin watched as his comrades fell to the ground, shouting in pain and frustration, yet he himself felt nothing.
Jebuthar frowned at Revin for a moment, then nodded and smirked.
“Ah,” he said, “The sword is what Ismander wanted when she returned to the island.”
That gave Revin the briefest moment of confidence, a spike of hope through the course fabric of fear that was trying to suffocate him. With a great force of effort, he narrowed his eyes, turned his frown into a thin line of determination, and aimed his blade. “Release them!” Revin said.
Jebuthar cocked his head, “Drop your sword, or I’ll kill them now.”
His open hand turned into a fist. Omrai and the others groaned in pain.
His forced confidence turned to rage. Rage at what he couldn’t control. One step after another Jebuthar had tortured Revin, murdered his friends. No more. Not again.
He jumped forward, half stumbling on his knee. He swung for Jebuthar’s arm. Jebuthar moved, fast, his own sword flying out of its sheath and easily blocking Revin’s in one fluid motion.
Jebuthar shook his head, frustrated. “What are you still doing here?”
“Stopping you,” Revin said.
“It’s a waste of time,” Jebuthar said with a look of frustration, “You don’t understand what I’m doing, none of you do! You know nothing, Revin. You don’t have the faith nor the will to do what Father God requires. Only I do.”
Revin stepped back and swung again. Jebuthar blocked; one hand still extended toward Omrai and the others.
Jebuthar frowned, through the mask his eyes looked… tired. “Revin, why are you here? You’re not a warrior.”
Revin tried to hit him several more times, putting his weight into his swings, wincing at every step with his bad knee, but Jebuthar blocked every strike.
“Your pride is so evident-”
“I’ve heard enough about my pride.”
“You chase a girl that’s not interested in you-”
“Shut up,” Revin said.
“You fight for a man who uses you.” Jebuthar glanced at Omrai as he effortlessly blocked another attack from Revin, “Father God doesn’t trust you, nor does he care what you’re trying to do.”
“You’re lying!”
“No Revin, that is the lie of the prophets, they say Father God treats all equally, but the truth is, he only speaks to a few . The rest are merely pillars who hold up his chosen. He doesn’t care about you. You are wrong, stupid, and foolish.”
Jebuthar thrust for Revin’s face. Revin barely managed to push it aside.
Or so he thought.
Jebuthar’s blade slid across Revin’s cheek. He screamed as he felt metal grind on bone and the flesh slicing asunder, like a hot knife through cheap butter.
Revin stumbled, dropping his blade, touching his face. The cut was deep. Jebuthar’s blade had slid right below his eye, scoring his cheekbone. The blood he saw on his hand made him dizzy, and his stomach threatened to empty.
“And do you know what else?”
Jebuthar struck Revin’s arm with the flat of his blade, sending a jolt of pain. Revin kept hold of his sword despite the throbbing agony.
“You’re not important, you’re nowhere near as strong a beastspeaker as Narazoth. You’re wasting your time. Step aside and let better men fulfill the will of Father God.”
Tears mixed with the blood on his face, the wound stinging from exposure to the open air and salty tears. All he could think about was Blackfire. Times spent wandering the wilderness. Helping each other out of scrapes. He remembered when Blackfire had caught a disease and had been lethargic for weeks, Revin staying at the wolf’s side.
His whole arm ached at the tension, he looked on Jebuthar with a hatred he’d never thought possible. He didn’t want to stop this man, he wanted to destroy him. Let him feel a blade sawing through his neck. “No!” Revin shouted, “You’re wrong. I’ll stop you!”
“You can’t,” Jebuthar said. “I’m taking Ateya, and then the Hiriv. There is no stopping this storm.”
Challenge accepted. Revin thought, gritting his teeth through the pain. He reached out to his ceratops, turning them from the wandering herds and toward the ship. The ramp to this chamber was open, full of automatons. It was not only their way out, but if he could just break through, he could crush this man.
And he would.
The ceratops looked at the automatons in fear. They saw the weapons, the eerie blue eyes. But Revin couldn’t care. Jebuthar had to die. He couldn’t give up. He’d failed so many times already. Seen blood and pain that no one should ever witness, let alone feel through a telepathic connection. It was time to stop failing. He would do whatever was necessary.
He mentally shouted a command into the saurians' minds, demanding that they charge into the automatons. Despite their fear and unwillingness, they charged. They had no choice. They were filled with Revin’s rage, honking as they moved.
“Revin, stop!” Omrai mindspoke.
They galloped up the ramp. Revin remembered that first battle, the thousands slain.
“What are you doing now?” Jebuthar said with a slightly intrigued tone.
The automatons lowered their weapons as the ceratops neared, horns down and ready. Revin thought of the other ceratops he’d lost, back in the mountain fortress.
“Revin, you’ll kill them!” Omrai said.
Revin looked at Jebuthar, the memories of hacking at frozen dirt, burying Ismander and Blackfire. His tears ran freely. “You’re not the only one who will sacrifice to win!”
Jebuthar smiled with a look of smug satisfaction.