Legacy of the Blood (The Threshold Trilogy) (30 page)

“Yessss.”

“Thousands of lives have been lost,” L’avan sputtered. “Hundreds
of thousands. How can that be possible?”

“The purposssse of thissss war isss not to kill demonssssss, young
human. Thisss battle will decide the fate of ussss all.”

A chill ran down L’avan’s spine. “What do you mean?”

Sesa didn’t reply.

A series of lights and colors began to swirl around the peak of
the mountain, and L’avan could hear the wrathful shrieks of the demons below.
There was a surge of the dark masses, and the armies of light slowly began to
give way.

“What is happening, Sesa?”

The Qetza seemed hesitant to answer. “The Sssssserraf have begun
the ritual to open a Thresssshold.”

The Thresholds were locations that humans only heard about in
myths.

“The Gateway to Heaven?”

The flying serpent shook his head. “No, a portal to another
world.”

The weathered soldier was baffled. “But…why?”

“I cannot ssssay at thisssss time.”

L’avan felt a twinge of resentment. “I have been a faithful
servant of the Great Immortal Ones for over forty years. Have I not earned the
trust of the Council?”

“Your ssservice doesssss you honor,” assured Sesa. “Watch, young
human. You will ssssee the greater plan sssssoon enough.”

Far below, L’avan could see that the front lines of the armies of
light were beginning to break.

“They cannot hold against such an attack for long,” he commented,
deeply concerned. “The demons will force their way through.”

“Yesss.”

“Can you not help them?” the soldier asked in desperation.

“No.”

“The Serraf will fail if the demons break through. How can you
stand by and watch?”

“With great difficulty,” she responded gravely.

L’avan felt a surge of guilt at his hasty words. He had seen much
conflict during his life. He had been fighting this war since he was a lad, and
now his head was full grey. Yet, sometimes he forgot that the Immortal Ones had
been fighting even longer. Their sacrifice on behalf of humankind—and all other
mortals—could not be measured.

“Forgive me,” he said humbly.

It was difficult to read the expression on the Qetza’s serpentine
face, but it seemed to take on a less somber light.

“There is nothing to forgive, faithful ally. It is not easy for
any of us to wait for our chance to be useful.”

Something in her tone implied that the Qetza would have that
chance. L’avan turned his aging eyes back to the battlefield with a flicker of
envy. Would he have another opportunity in this life to serve the cause of
light?

All along the base of the mountain, a ring of fire leapt into
being and grew until it was an impenetrable wall. The armies of light shied
away from the furnace, but the demons seemed even more desperate to reach it.

“The firsssst of the barriersss…” murmured Sesa to herself.

“Will that keep the demons at bay?” L’avan asked in a dubious
tone.

“No,” admitted the Qetza, “but it will slow them down.”

A black cloud rose from the rear of the demon ranks and soared
towards the mountain. It was the last of the Be’ezal, the winged demons with
long teeth and razor-like claws.

“Be’ezal,” he shouted unnecessarily. “They will attack the Serraf
on the mountain.”

Sesa turned her head away and continued to circle the valley, away
from the front lines. “The Ssssserraf know what isss at risssk. They have
meassssured the cossst and found it acceptable.”

L’avan’s heart weighed heavily in his chest. In his opinion, the
Serraf were the wisest of the Great Immortal Ones. He was in constant awe of
their power and majesty. They were not a warrior race, but they were certainly
not helpless in an attack.

Even so, there were hundreds of Be’ezal shrieking towards them.

Would they be able to survive in the end?

Sitara and her sisters were perspiring with effort.

They knew that it was possible to force open a Threshold, but they
had only attempted it once before—and they had only pried it open enough to
prove that it was possible. Now that they were striving to fully open a
Threshold, they realized how greatly they had underestimated the task.

The ritual to open the gateway was approximately one third of the
way finished. The center of the circle was beaming with light, and the
incorporeal path that led to the other world could be seen. Once the ritual was
complete the path would become a reality, and beings could pass from one realm
to the other.

Sitara could sense that the demons had breached the first barrier,
and were contending with the next two—a double barrier.

Time was running short.

***

L’avan gripped the leather harness that held him to the flying Qetza
so tightly that his fists turned white. The armies of light had been driven
back, and there was a thick black column of demons forcing their way through
the wall of fire and into the caves that led up the mountain.

The armies of light battered at the edges of the horde, but they
could not seem to cut off the stream that barreled towards the Serraf.

“They are losing,” he muttered hoarsely. “This battle will be
lost.”

The lights and colors on the top of the mountain had diminished
considerably. Judging by what remained, L’avan estimated that there could be no
more than three or four Serraf left standing.

Not enough to complete such a complex ritual.

There was another unexpected flare of blinding light, as there had
been at the beginning of this phase of the conflict.

All of the Qetza turned simultaneously and flew back to the island
where they had been stationed at the start of this campaign.

“What is happening?” asked L’avan. “Why are we leaving? The battle
is not over.”

“I am aware, young human,” Sesa replied. “The time hassss come for
the Qetza to do their part.”

L’avan’s heart sped up. “You are going to join the fight?”

“In a way,” was the evasive response.

The old soldier’s mind began to formulate a plan. Humans had been
banned from this specific conflict, but perhaps there was a way for him to take
part without disobeying orders.

Normally, the journey from the lone mountain to the windy island
would have taken days. The fleet Qetza reduced that time to a couple of hours.

There were only a couple of thousand Qetza still living, and all
of them waited patiently on the island just off the coast of Zonne. Sesa and
her companions landed, and the human passengers climbed off of their backs.

L’avan, on the other hand, held on to his harness firmly. “Will
you be entering the thick of the fray?”

Sesa turned her head around and gave him a quizzical glance. “No,
we will ssstay to the sssskiesss.”

He smiled in grim satisfaction. “Then I would like to come along.”

The Qetza’s serpentine face became quite stern. “No, young human.
You may not join ussss. You are to ssstay here and watch from afar.”

“You said you would not be in danger,” L’avan pointed out. “What
is the harm of having one small human on your back?”

“I ssssaid we would be ssstaying to the sskiesss,” corrected Sesa.
“I did not sssay there would be no danger.”

He leaned forward and put a hand on her scaly neck. “Please, Sesa.
I have given my life to this war. Let me stay with you.”

The Qetza took a deep breath, considering the situation carefully.

“Very well.”

L’avan did his best to hide a triumphant smile. “Thank you.”

Kirin, L’avan’s oldest surviving comrade-in-arms, was approaching
and overheard the last exchange. “You are going with them?”

“Yes.”

“But we are ssstaying at the rear, assss far from the fighting as
posssssible,” declared Sesa.

Kirin’s eyes took on a bright interest. “May I come as well?”

“No,” replied Sesa and L’avan in a single voice.

Kirin scowled darkly. “Why not? I am just as able to stay out of
the way as you, old friend.”

There had been a time when L’avan had been Kirin’s military
superior, and he could have ended the discussion with a simple order to stay
behind. Now, they were years past that. L’avan didn’t have the authority, nor
the inclination, to order Kirin around anymore.

“Well…”

Sesa was not happy about the situation at all. “Fine. But only if
a Qetza agreesss to carry you.”

Kirin found a Qetza without too much trouble. L’avan suspected
that his fellow soldier was less than truthful in making his request. Kirin
probably told the Qetza that he had special permission to go on this
undertaking.

Orders were given in the sibilant language native to the Qetza,
and all those that remained of the race rose into the air and flew back towards
the battlefield.

***

Sitara was faint from the massive drain of her
vyala
, and
she knew that her sisters felt the same. The ritual was almost finished, and
the Threshold was ready to open.

Deep within the mountain, the Serraf leader could sense the demons
battering the fifth barrier. It would not last much longer.

The time had finally come to complete what the circle of Serraf
had begun.

Adesina stood completely awestruck, staring at the massive
tapestry of
vyala
that had been woven together. She knew that she could
not re-create such a ritual if she had a hundred L’avan to help her.

Is that why this Dream was so important? To show her that there
was no way that Basha could complete the ritual on her own?

The young queen had no time to wonder. The light in the center of
the circle was blinding, and the pulse of power started to pound in her mind.

“Bren,” Sitara called out in a strained voice, “it is time.”

***

Bren crouched alone on the mountaintop, save a single remaining
Serraf. The Be’ezal seemed less desperate to kill them now that there were only
two, and they made lazy circles in the air above them. Occasionally they would
dive and swipe at the huddled Serraf, but it was only to pass the time.

Bren’s companion was bleeding freely, and she would soon collapse
from the loss of blood. All of the Serraf’s remaining strength was to keep Bren
safe from harm.

Bren, it is time.

The two Serraf breathed sighs of relief.

They had made it.

Now it did not matter if the Be’ezal attacked. It did not matter
if their strength failed. They had lived to fulfill their purpose.

Bren’s
vyala
was tied to the center of the circle inside
the mountain through the conduit on which she knelt. She could feel what was
happening, but it was nothing more than a simple connection between herself and
the circle.

As basic as the connection was, it still took every ounce of
concentration that Bren could muster. During the ritual—and the attacks around
her from the demons—her concentration had wavered from time to time.

Now, she solidified her focus until it became as hard as iron. She
fused the rod of
vyala
to the core of her being, and she opened the
floodgates of her soul.

The effect was instantaneous.

Every ounce of
vyala
she possessed flowed from her body and
down the conduit. It filled the center of the circle with a radiant glow that
grew brighter until it filled the whole cave.

Bren’s body fell slowly to the ground, lifeless and somehow
smaller than before.

The remaining Serraf sent off one more signal in a flash of light,
and then she, too, was struck down.

***

There was no question when the deed was done.

Sitara and the eleven other Serraf felt the undeniable surge of
power that filled the circle and completed the ritual.

Bren’s sacrifice had opened the Threshold.

A glowing pathway stood before them, leading upward to a portal of
light. All of the Serraf felt drawn to the new realm, but they resisted the
urge to walk through the gateway.

Toraun stared at the opening in wonder. “I have never seen
anything so beautiful.”

Few beings, immortal or otherwise, were given the honor of seeing
a Threshold.

“Now what do we do?” asked the council leader.

Sitara harnessed what strength she had left and began constructing
an elaborate illusion with her
vyala
. Two other Serraf lent their
vyala
to help her where she was weak.

“The last signal was sent from the mountaintop. The Qetza will
soon begin their role in compelling the demons through the Threshold. We need
to protect ourselves until the demons have all been forced into the new realm.”

The illusion would serve as cover, should the first wave of demons
appear before the Qetza began their part. The demons would think that they had
entered the Threshold, and would rush to follow.

Sitara surveyed the work with satisfaction.

“It will not be long now. Let us hide.”

***

The Qetza had been holding their position for half an hour when
the final flash of light burst forth from the peak of the lone mountain. L’avan
leaned forward to stare at the source.

“No more light. Are they all gone?”

“Yessss,” said Sesa sadly. “They have paid for thisss battle with
their livessss.”

The weathered soldier was stunned. He could barely find the words
to speak. “Does that mean we have lost?”

Sesa didn’t answer. She was too busy listening to the orders that
were coming down the line.

The Qetza began to change formations, and Sesa made her way to the
rear. The Qetza carrying Kirin followed suit, and the two human witnesses
watched from behind as the fleet of flying serpents created an undulating
sphere with their collective bodies. A dozen Qetza, including Sesa and the one
carrying Kirin, hovered in a semi-circle around the sphere.

Sibilant chanting began at the center of the sphere, and slowly
spread outward. Electricity began to crackle in the air, as if lightning were
preparing to form.

Sesa did not participate in the chanting, and so L’avan ventured
to ask her a question.

“What is happening? Is the battle not lost?”

Her reptilian eyes were fixed on the sphere, but she answered his
query. “No, it isss not losssst. In fact, it isss won.”

“How? The Serraf are dead!”

“Only the onessss who meant to give their livesss.”

L’avan experienced a flash of intuition. “It was a ruse. The
circle on the top of the mountain was not the real circle.”

“Yessss.”

Kirin leaned towards them, listening closely.

“So, they succeeded in opening a Threshold?” pressed L’avan.

“Yessss.”

“But now what?” interjected Kirin. “What good will that do against
the demons?”

The chanting in the sphere was growing louder and more powerful. A
frenzied wind began to swirl around the ripple of the Qetza bodies.

“You are going to force them through,” realized L’avan, a wave of
excitement rushing over his heart. “You are going to rid our world of demonkind
forever.”

“That isss our hope.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped L’avan’s throat.

It was too perfect to believe. A world without demons to torment
and corrupt humankind. Was it possible?

Yet, it had to be. It was happening as he watched.

The electricity in the air made L’avan’s skin tingle. The wind had
risen to a gale, and he had to cling to the harness that was holding him to
Sesa’s back.

He watched intently as the chanting of the Qetza reached a climax,
and an enormous pillar of wind and lightning shot out the sphere, aiming for
the demon hordes.

The black figures were tiny to L’avan’s eyes, but he could see
that they were being picked up by the beam and forced towards the mountain.

Thousands of them.

Hundreds of thousands of them.

The armies of light were clearly buffeted by the powerful winds,
but they were able to hold their ground against the
vyala
of the Qetza.

“What is preventing the wind from harming the other armies?”
shouted Kirin over the gale.

“We are,” answered Sesa. “We twelve Qetza direct the currents of
the conjuration.”