Echoes of a Shattered Age (33 page)

Fire raged in the samurai’s eyes as he unsheathed his sword and leaned back, roaring at the top of his lungs as he stabbed the sword into the air. The other three warriors thrust their weapons skyward in as well, matching the war cry, and their voices echoed across the land.

Despite her condition, Akemi rolled her eyes.
Men and their war cries,
she thought. Putting her companions out of her mind, she studied what lay before them. It was a great force to be sure, but she had not felt the presence of one Quentranzi, and that worried her.
What is the Drek planning?

Kenjiro, Akemi, Kita, Shinobu and Kenyatta charged into blackness to face the evil within.

***

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The centaurs pounded any fiend that came within reach. The second in command, Warsong, leaped onto the back of a ripclaw, his weight bearing the demon to the ground. Before the demon could react, He stabbed it in the back repeatedly until it had begun to dematerialize. His instincts screamed at him, and he turned to deflect a large pincer aiming for his head.

“You are a strong one, yes?” the Tasarien taunted. It snapped its pincers in and out at the equine warrior.

Warsong growled. “You will learn soon enough when you awake back in our own dark world.”

The Tasarien feigned a right hook at the centaur’s right foreleg, and when he lifted it, the demon kicked straight out at Warsong’s chest.

He stumbled backward but wasn’t fazed. The Tasarien hesitated, tipping its head as it studied its adversary.

“I see,” the wicked creature said, its voice shrill and thin. “
Coward
magic. I would have expected more, even from a filthy half-breed.”

“Amusing that a demon dreg calls me filthy.”

The Tasarien screeched.

Warsong charged.

* * *

Grit bashed a Kalistyi in the head with his many-spiked club and sent it whirling back to the abyss. He looked over his shoulder and saw yet another one of his warrior’s magic fading.

“We ain’t gonna be able to hold like this too long!” Strongarm said, magical mist seeping from a wound in his side.

“We gotta get to the open field and away from these blasted trees!” Grit yelled, ducking a swipe at his head. “We’re getting outta these woods!”

At that command, the band of sturdy warriors began working their way toward the open field. They managed to fight their way to open ground, and things were just starting to look up when one of Grit’s lieutenants went flying by him while his magical body dissipated into nothingness. Grit gnashed his teeth and was about to yell out another order when he felt a burning heat on his back. He turned to see a fiery giant staring down at him.

* * *

Third in command of the centaurs, Merridius took a deep gash to his hind leg and was slowing as the magic sustaining him gradually diminished. Grimhammer had seen it coming but was unable to act, dealing with two enemies of his own at his side, Warsong was occupied with two ripclaws.

“I fear the climate of this battle will soon change!” the centaur leader yelled over his shoulder.

Warsong had scored a vital blow to one of the ripclaws by then and now focused more of his attention to the other. “What do you mean?” He used his spear to swat aside a claw aimed at his midsection.

“Merridius is not long for this battle,” Grimhammer replied.

That news infuriated the second in command. He growled and dodged a swiping tail, the lowered his shoulder and smashed into the demon, sending it tumbling to the ground. Before it could recover, the four-legged warrior was atop it, stomping it into the ground. With a downward swing, his weapon crashed into the demon’s head and dark mist seeped from the wound.

The ripclaw made a feeble attempt to rise, but the dark energy that sustained it on this plane was pouring from its body, and seconds later it was gone back to the abyss.

Not wasting any time, Warsong rushed to fight beside Merridius. He reached his overwhelmed friend, and bought him enough time to recover. Despite the relief, Merridius had taken many injuries and Warsong could see tendrils of magical energy seeping from his body.

“We fight together, brother!” Warsong said as he trampled short, silver demon. He stabbed down, then tore the blade up, and a gout of icy mist poured from the wounded demon’s chest.

Merridius grabbed another of the silver fiends and hurled it into the ripclaw at its side, but not before it loosed an icy blast of energy at the weakening centaur. The blast knocked him back, but still he managed a weak parry against the ripclaw.

“Brother!” he cried. “My time in this battle is ended, fight on and we will meet again soon.” With a roar of defiance, he forced the ripclaw back and slashed it across the chest with his ax. The gash was deep, and dark energy poured out of the fiend’s body. It fell to the ground and dissolved back to the abyss.

In that same moment, Merridius also left the battle, his magical avatar having sustained too many wounds. Warsong saw his brother fade away, and though he knew it was not the real Merridius, he still felt as if his brother was truly lost to him. His roar swept the battlefield, and Warsong plowed into another mass of demons, sending one after another back to their world of darkness.

* * *

Iel watched as the battle grew closer to the tower and the second and third wave of his magical forces advanced to meet the advancing evil. Siti had already left with her group and had met battle on the eastern side of the field. The brunts were the first to strike, and were now somewhere in the middle of that thick blackness. Grimhammer and his clan had followed the Rizanti straight into the middle of the demon mass, but Iel knew the mighty centaur would not lead his forces into the thick of the dark army as the Rizanti had done. They would have branched to one side and cut their way back in to meet the Rizanti, and then force their enemy back from three sides once the brunts or Siti’s forces met with them.

The Rizanti on the other hand, had gone straight into the heart of the evil horde. It may not have been the tactic the Ilanyan would have recommended, but it worked for the magical fighters. Knowing this, Iel had not made any type of strategic plans with any defenders that were spawned purely of battle magic, as they already knew what they must do.

Grimhammer and Grit knew their soldiers and where to best place themselves. Siti was the only one he had made any preparations with, for she spent much time with the gentle guardian. She had never been in a battle before, and was in need of instruction, which the Ilanyan readily gave.

“They are going to break the protective wall surrounding the tower, aren’t they?” Mira asked from behind.

Iel glanced over his shoulder. “Within a few hours, yes.”

That caught Mira off guard. Usually, the Ilanyan would try to cheer her up or comfort her when things seemed grim. This day, however, he made no such attempt; he did not offer a smile or a comforting tone in his voice.

As if reading her mind, he beckoned for her to stand beside him. “I know you are worried, my student, but now is the time for strength. You are here in the middle of this conflict with no longer the option to retreat. We will stand together.” When she didn’t respond, he turned to look at her. “What is it?”

Mira was looking in his direction, but her attention was elsewhere. She was feeling something.

“The five warriors are here,” she said absently. “One of them is coming straight for us and seems very sick, as if she is fighting for her soul.” She focused back on him. “I think it’s the ninja.”

“Do you think she can make it?” Iel asked.

“Her horse is nearly spent. I don’t know for sure if she can make it, but I have to be ready for her when she gets here.”

That brought a sigh from the Ilanyan. “Do what you must, but hurry. I will need you soon.”

Mira nodded and closed her eyes, drifting deep into concentration.

* * *

Akemi leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her horse’s strong neck. She smiled to herself in spite of the growing evil that she fought to keep from consuming her from the inside out.

She had run and ridden hard with the others and kept in good spirits, but now she could feel the burn, the inferno that raged inside her body. One thing she had found strange was that she could see clearly in the darkness, no matter how thick. This was a welcomed surprise, as she was more able to guide her horse farther from the battle without losing sight of the tower.

They were speeding along in a straight line now, her horse breathing heavily, but giving her every bit of its strength. She lowered her head to rest on its neck and closed her eyes. Then, she felt a jerk. Her horse had increased its already incredible pace.
What a strong friend you are,
she thought as she gently patted her laboring mount on the neck and closed her eyes, using what little strength she had left to stay astride.

* * *

The four warriors moved through the darkness, two in front and two in back, facing each direction. The samurai had little trouble, as he had been trained to fight without sight. The other three, however, were at the edge of despair at the overbearing blackness. Guttural sounds and the clashing of weapons and the grunting and yelling of the defending forces polluted the air.

When Kenjiro saw that the darkness had begun to lighten farther ahead, he passed word to the others in attempt to raise their spirits.

“I can see a bit, now,” Kita whispered as loud as he dared. The others flinched at the sudden break in silence. “Allow your eyes to go out of focus and you can see more around you.”

“He’s right,” the strider said after a few moments.

“This looks pretty bad,” Kenyatta commented after he too was able to see. “There are demons everywhere and coming from every direction.”

“And magical fighters to stand before them,” the samurai added.

“Get ready!” Kita said, extending his staff to its full length. “I think we’ve been noticed.”

* * *

They hovered above the action, basking in the carnage.

“What a fight this turned out to be!” an elated Szhegaza remarked. “It seems the Quentranzi are not quite as strong as we thought, but at least their numbers give them an advantage.”

Zreal cast her a sidelong glance and shook his head.

“What?” the Zitarian demanded.

“After being in the presence of the demon general Kabriza, you still do not know their power?” Zreal shook his head again. “What you see down there is nothing more than fodder.”

“Fodder?” she echoed.

Zreal let out a sigh. “There is not one Quentranzi among that army down there.”

Szhegaza frowned. They were not the strongest foes, but they were more formidable than any army, human or beast, could have been. Takashaniel was decimating the demon horde, but in the end, it would not be enough. If these were not the fabled super-demons Brit had been summoning, then what was to come?

“I don’t think I want to be in the middle of this fight when your master’s pets get here,” she said.

“I think it’s amusing that you speak as if we have a choice,” Zreal replied. “If we die, better here than at the hands of our disapproving master.”

* * *

Brit and Kabriza watched the conflict through the scrying mirror. Although the darkness was thick, they had no problem seeing the action, as Brit himself had cast the dark cloud. The powerful fiend by his side looked on in amusement.

“Takashaniel has great power,” it said in that deep, rumbling voice. “They defend the land well, maybe more than The Brit has expected?”

Brit did not even look in the demon’s direction. It had been an unrelenting inner struggle not to engage the tiresome demon. He repeatedly had to remind himself that he and this powerful yet immensely annoying creature were allies.

“My plans include you, and since you are included in …” he cast the demon a wry grin, “
my
plans, then you need not worry about
my
concerns.”

The demon narrowed its eyes at him, but Brit continued.

“The instrument does not question the wielder, does it, Quentranzi?”

“True,” Kabriza responded. “But if the wielder proves incapable, then the instrument might
accidentally
become the bane of the wielder.”

Brit had long grown tired of the endless insinuations and mind games. It continued to chip away at his mental armor, and if he showed any loss of control, the demon could exploit it.

“Answer a question for me,” he said, turning to face the beast. “How can the army respect the general when the general watches in safety?”

“For two reasons,” Kabriza replied with something that looked like a smirk on its wicked face. “The first is, none of my brethren are fighting. Second, if any of them allowed such a thought to enter their minds, their endless torment would be something beyond your earthly imagination.” Kabriza’s body began to glow.

Brit could feel the evil emanating from the fiend.
After this is finished, I may have to rid myself of this thing before all that I accomplish goes ill.

Kabriza shot an amused look his way. “The Drek should not think such unkind things about his guest. You might make me nervous.” And then the demon vanished in a red mist, leaving Brit to his thoughts. After a few moments, his face twisted into a smile. A final challenge after the tower was taken might not be so bad. He had always wondered how his power would stand against such a foe.

* * *

They paired off, Kenjiro with Kita, and Shinobu with Kenyatta. Although Kenyatta and Kita knew best how to complement each other’s abilities from years of training and fighting together, the samurai thought it better to pair a relatively short weapon with a long-range one. Kenjiro’s sword had less reach than Kita’s staff, while Kenyatta’s two blades were well complemented by the strider’s mysterious weapon that seemed to strike even when the blade had not connected.

Kenyatta’s swords were a blur that brought defeat to every fiend within his reach. Shinobu was quite impressed with the islander’s skill, while Kenyatta as well, was impressed by the strider’s mastery of that odd blade, which seemed to slice the air itself, not to mention anything that got too close.

Kenjiro and Kita had worked back to back, turning a circle and cutting down their enemies. A Tasarien rushed Kita who steadied his stance and positioned his weapon in front of him. It struck wildly, but with a bit more precision than the other seemingly mindless fiends. Kita worked hard to avoid and deflect those crab-like pincers snapping at his head and torso. One well-placed snap, and he would stain the ground in two bloody pieces.

* * *

Akemi clung to the horse’s neck as it sprinted across the battlefield. Several times, a monster tried to block their way or lash out at them, but the horse would dart this way and that, never slowing.