The transport's engines hum as it travels in the high altitudes of the freezing atmosphere. The soldiers sit tightly packed together, eerily silent save for the jingling of their equipment and the rough shuffle of boots. As one of the more powerful factions in the war, the New Rule has one of the finest sets of equipment for their light infantry, more advanced than even the Confederation itself. However, the same cannot be said of the infantry's quality and skill, as over half of their forces have never fought a battle, and in the case of the soldiers on the transport, over two-thirds. The New Rule, in fact, is perpetually in a manpower shortage, where volunteer forces have become more scarce as the war goes on while continuously losing soldiers in every front.
“Lel, do you think it might be their doing? The attack on Lazairu?” Kavlina suddenly asks, breaking the silence.
Avalel stares at the reflective visor of his helmet, his mind fixated on the soldiers from then. Their gleaming, silvery armor, their sleek helmets, their beautiful weapons... all serving to remind him of that night. That painful night.
He clutches the Anapadeia tightly. “I hope not.”
Suddenly, the soldiers hear overlapping hums, growing louder as time passes.
“They've finally caught up, eh?” Taravi notes.
“The other transports have caught up with us now,” a voice announces through loudspeakers, “With five transports, carrying a total of at least three thousand personnel, we shall relieve our comrades at Lazairu. Prepare your gear, for we shall soon descend.”
Murmurs of excitement begin rising again amongst the soldiers. Many finally put on their helmets, their faces gradually covered by an emotionless visor. Some even ready their rifles, their hands positioned as if they will fire at a moment's notice.
“I guess we're almost there,” Tarak says, although no more than a mumble comes out of his helmet.
“We need to set up our comms,” Taravi shouts amidst the growing commotion, “Everyone, connect to each other's comms after you put on your helmets. We'll be operating as independent teams according to high command, and only I will have communication with the commanding officers, so it is imperative that we have communication with each other, especially with me. Understand?”
“Yes!” Enthusiastically, the team rapidly prepares themselves, and soon, all are completely ready, forming a column and lining up behind fellow soldiers. After a short period, every single soldier is prepared, standing up erect and proud in a neat formation.
“All soldiers, we are now descending to Lazairu,” the same voice from the loudspeakers declares, “As soon as our transport lands, rush to your designated spots, killing any Confederation soldier in sight. Ready your hearts, for…”
A shrill whistle, then a thundering explosion, rocking the transport. “All engines are crippled! They have disabling charges in their anti-air guns!” someone shouts.
The hum on the transport fades, replaced by a screech as the engines go to a halt. The transport's head tips forward as it begins to plummet towards the ground, despite the efforts of the pilots to stop it from nose diving.
A soldier forces open the large storage cabinet, where parachutes are stored, only to find it completely empty and void. “Where are the parachutes?” he cries desperately. Then, a cruel realization dawns on everyone. In the hurry, they had forgotten about the parachutes.
The soldiers begin to descend to disarray, with cadet volunteers panicking as they scramble for anything that might stop their slip towards the transport head, including their comrades' weapons.
Shots fire, denting the durable wall of the interior, but a few stray shots hit the bodies of unfortunate soldiers. One soldier's visor is cracked, smoke billowing out of it as he (or she) rolls down the now-steep floor, lifeless while others can only watch in horror.
Avalel, in particular, is in a difficult situation, his hands desperately holding on to Tarak's bag, Tarak himself clinging onto a handle near the door while Kavlina clings on to Avalel's boot, with one free hand holding a knife. Originally dangling in mid-air, she suddenly swings herself upward, thrusting the knife at one of the doors, dented already by a beam.
“Kavlina, wait!” Avalel cries, but it's too late. With an energy burst conducted through the knife, the large chunk of weakened metal flies away, and a blast of air immediately sucks Kavlina out, her arm still stubbornly holding on to Avalel. “Release your grip, Tarak!” she cries.
“Wait, what?” Tarak and Avalel protest in disbelief. By then, Tarak's hand begins to slip, until finally he is forced to let go, and all three of them are pulled out of the transport into the open air.
Free falling and out of control, Avalel feels the air knocking into his body, tossing him around like a leaf. Although Kavlina seems to be in a similar situation, her arms flailing around as she tries, and fails, to slow her fall, Tarak has already stabilized himself, his limbs outstretched to slow his fall.
“Kavlina, what were you thinking?” Tarak furiously yells, his voice just barely audible in the wind.
“The transport was going to crash, and we'll be killed if we stayed anyway!” Kavlina answers sharply.
“At least the transport provides protection for us!” Avalel responds, “Here, we have nothing to cushion the fall, save for the plants below which might as well impale us!”
“Lel, do you know that birds learn to fly when they're faced with the threat of death?”
“What?”
“Remember Old Man Faresoenn's energy barrier?”
“You don't mean…” She's gone insane!
“Exactly!” After much struggling and turning, Kavlina plummets headfirst, her body an arrow, splitting the air below. As the forests below come into her view, she readies her knife, pointing it at the ground, as if she's challenging the entire planet to a duel.
The individual trees in the forest, originally just dots in her view, rapidly grow larger in her eyes, with even their needle-like leaves being discernable. Above, Avalel and Tarak's figures are not far, but have become nothing more than specks of dust from her perspective. Well, let's see if this will work.
She focuses her eyes at the knife, feeling as if she's staring at the gates of Death. With a deep breath, she releases the energy, feeling her arms ignite, before her body too, seeming to be set on fire.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Time seems to slow as she crashes into the forest, shattering the canopy. A bright sphere begins to form around her, shielding her and her comrades from impact. Her vision blurs as she feels her entire body go numb with pain. Finally, she faints, her ears rattling with the explosive blast of the barrier before all goes quiet.
----------------------------------------
“Kavlina! Kavlina!” the distant voices of Avalel and Tarak call with worry.
It worked?
She slowly opens her eyes, letting the welcoming light into it. “Lel? Tarak? Did it work?”
“What do you think?” Avalel chuckles weakly, hiding the subtle trembling in his voice, “That was such a powerful burst!” I'm so glad...
“Kavlina, you can hear us clearly through the comms, right?” Tarak asks.
“I can, but it's quite coarse. I think I might have slightly damaged my comms.”
“Please stay still. We'll take off your helmet.” With that, Tarak slowly lifts Kavlina's helmet. Just as the helmet is about to be removed, however, he abruptly stops, and both he and Avalel's faces turn to deep worry... and fear.
“What's wrong?” Kavlina questions, her hands instinctively touching her face. Well, my face seems to be fine... she suddenly catches a reflection off Tarak's visor, and gasps in horror.
Her skin is nearly devoid of color, being ghastly pale, the veins showing clearly beneath her skin. Her eyes, formerly a dazzling grey, is faded, her gaze just a blank stare. Her dark hair is thinned and the color also faded, like the leftover ash from a campfire. It's as if she aged many decades in the past few moments.
A sharp, acute pain sets in, blood rushing out through her throat and exits her mouth. Frantically, she turns, choking as a pool of blood quickly stains her clothing and armor. Her rib cage seems to be like swords as if they are puncturing her lungs. She collapses from the pain, but barely supports herself with the knife. However, even the knife fails as it dissolves into fine dust, unable to bear the burden of the earlier burst. Avalel and Tarak quickly each grab one of her arms, holding her up as blood continues to pour out of her mouth like a waterfall.
This agony, the torment, the strain... What's happening to me? Shaking, she brings her hands to her mouth, dousing herself with the warm, fresh blood. Taking deep breaths, she gradually calms down, kneeling on the pool of red as she clutches her chest, holding back further bouts of pain. The aftereffects... Is this what they call “opening the gate”?
Avalel removes his helmet. “Kavlina, don't exert yourself so much next time,” he whispers, “But thanks for saving all three of us from death by falling.” He laughs softly, attempting to lighten the mood.
“Let's... go to... Lazairu,” Kavlina gasps, forcing herself to stand.
“But you're…” Tarak protests.
“I'm... fine.” To their surprise, Kavlina has already somewhat regained a steady rhythm of breathing, her eyes already reverting to their original colors. “I... don't know how,” she mutters, “But Ms. Ipela's healing... It's having an effect.”
“Are you sure?” Tarak asks, “I've heard that Ms. Ipela is an experienced healer, but I don't know of anything beyond that.”
“Well, it's a relief that you're alright,” Avalel says.
“What about the transport?”
Avalel and Tarak are silent, their eyes staring at the ground. Wait... In the distance, several pillars of smoke rise to the sky, their sickly grey smudging the otherwise clear atmosphere.
“They're probably all dead, aren't they?”
Avalel nods.
“Well, we don't know until we arrive at our destination, which is Lazairu,” Tarak says optimistically, although his tone is shaky.
“If they are all killed, we'll just have to kill any and every enemy we see,” Kavlina says simply.
“I don't want to kill…” Avalel murmurs.
“Lel, no. Enough with your ideals,” Kavlina hisses, her eyes glaring at Avalel.
“Let's just make our way to Lazairu. Perhaps we might find some survivors on the way,” Tarak suggests, standing firmly between the two.
“... As you wish,” Kavlina reluctantly steps back, “I assume Lazairu is not far from here?”
“Well, we can just head in that direction,” Tarak points to the smoke, “We don't really know our bearings other than the wreckage there.”
“Let's go, then. It's a long way, probably, to Lazairu,” Avalel says.
The three begin walking, trudging through the dense forest, on edge and with rifles in hand. Although the vegetation is thick and they occasionally need the Anapadeia to cut through, for the most part the durable vest and armor of the New Rule serve them well, as they journey through with little difficulty. As they went on, Avalel could notice the abnormally quick recovery of Kavlina, as she soon can follow their pace, the pained expression long leaving her face. In fact, it is as if she never released the absurd amount of energy, the only evidence of it lying on her bloodied military uniform and the crater formed when she initially landed.
Soon, they arrive at the wreckage of the transport. Or should it be... transports. At least three transports lay close to each other as a pile of ruined, crushed metal, while another one lies not far away, smoking holes puncturing its sides. Smoking holes?
Suddenly, a figure leaps out of nowhere, her uniform clearly burnt and her exposed skin scarred. Her waist is bleeding, caused by a blade of sorts, and the visor is cracked, revealing the face inside.
“Noriel?” Tarak gasps in surprise, “Where's Baria?”
“You mean this cute face?” a voice calls out as three other figures step out of the shadows. The two on the sides are male, but the center figure, holding a severed head by the hair, is a female, her stance imposing as she slowly walks towards the group. Although they are dressed simply, with minimal armor on the waist and cloaks flying in the wind, Avalel recognizes the emblem, the sword and the bird, etched on their tunics. Identical to the one shown from the village square.
“Baria…” Tarak mutters, gritting his teeth as he raises his beam rifle. Monsters, beasts, vile creatures...
“They killed everyone, Tarak,” Noriel cries in warning, “Not just Baria. Everyone was killed. Even Taravi.”
“They didn't really put up much of a fight, honestly,” the female mocks, “It was only you, this girl, and that short mercenary who gave even the slightest resistance. Sadly, none of them were our targets. Who would've guessed they would…”
Tarak fires, the beam just missing the female as she dodges. “Stop,” he mutters.
“You have quite the courage, young man,” the female acknowledges, “Sadly, we don't want to fight you, as our targets have already delivered themselves to us.” She stares intently at Avalel and Kavlina. “You should know by now, Avalel and Kavlina.”
How did she know our names? “Your emblem…” Avalel's mind flows back to the fight at the village square, “... It's unmistakable.” What do they want my life for?
“Oh, you mean the Confederation Emblem? Yes, we, the Confederation, want you and your companions' lives. These irrelevant individuals only stand as the means to the end.”
“You…” In a fit of rage, Tarak fires his beam rifle, but it suddenly snaps, a clean cut slicing it in half. In the blink of an eye, the female stands facing him, in her right hand a long, sharp, single-edged blade, corrupted and tainted with blood.
“I'll give you a chance to surrender,” she calmly offers, “Flee now and abandon your comrades, and your life will be spared. Stay as you are, and you will find your fate like your lovely friend here.” She waves the head of Baria in front of Tarak, the still-wet tongue smearing his cheek.
“I'll decide for him,” Kavlina interrupts as she raises her rifle, aiming at the female figure.
“It's a no,” Avalel adds, drawing the Anapadeia and revealing its blinding light.
“Well,” she turns to her companions, “Kerohar, Teritav, you two know what to do. We let the machines do the dirty jobs earlier. It's time to clean up.”
“Wait…” Noriel suddenly stops, her eyes bulging as her upper body falls onto the ground. Standing next to her is one of the male figures, holding a thin metal spear drenched in blood. A boot stamps on the head of Noriel, and in one swift motion, he detaches it using his spear, dyeing the ground into a crimson red.
“Enough talking. It's time to complete the job.”