Origin ARS 5 (22 page)

The elder sighed once more, obviously tired.
"Yes, that power can only be used if the body is mostly intact. A
limb or two can be missing as long as the head is intact, but you
saw the state of the boy."

A frown crossed the sorcerer's lips. "Now it
makes sense. Those damned tin cans are deliberately chopping the
bodies apart."

"Of course, it's an ancient tactic of war.
The more damaged the body, the harder it is to restore the life of
the fallen. Simple restoration requires us to touch the body or an
important piece of it at least such as the head, a major organ, or
a large limb. Lesser resurrection requires a relatively intact
body."

"Greater resurrection is needed for bodies
that have been torn apart... What about true awakening?" asked
Scott.

"Ah, now that dangerous prayer is for the
fallen who have had their bodies completely destroyed by
incineration, disintegration, or one who has been digested by a
beast so that no large body parts remain. It can also be used if
the body has not been found, though there is a greater chance that
the prayer will go unanswered in that case."

"I see, so when nothing is left of the body
the gods might answer an earnest prayer." said Scott.

Heralt nodded then a wry smile crossed his
lips. "Unless you're a noble or well-heeled merchant in some
kingdoms. There are those who hedge their bets."

"Hedge their bets?"

"Yes, they routinely have a major body part
surgically removed once a year then have the missing limb
regenerated. They have to spend a week or so as an invalid, but if
they die they can simply be restored in town."

"Smart. Freakish, but smart." said Scott. "I
assume that they preserve the limb somehow?"

"Of course. Such magical preservation lasts
for several years actually, but they do this on a yearly basis so
that they have a few backup limbs in different locations to prevent
theft." The old man informed Scott in an amused tone of voice
reminiscent of a terrible gossip.

"I'm surprised such a work around actually
works." said Scott.

"It doesn't always. They hedge their bets but
even simple restoration can fail. Those preserved limbs are often
long removed from the body." Heralt leaned in and whispered to
Scott like the next thing that he said would be a dire secret.
"Their connection to the spirit of the fallen weakens and the limb
is destroyed in the resurrection attempt regardless of whether it
works or not. They always use the newest limb first since it has
the best chance of working."

"I'll guess that doing all that is hideously
expensive." said Scott.

"Oh yes, keeping a limb fresh and preserved
in such a way that it will actually work requires high level magic.
Those sorts of spells do not come cheap."

They were about to discuss such things
further when an urgent knock came at the door. Heralt moved to the
door, annoyed at the interruption.

Pieter was on the other side. Before the head
priest could ask what the issue was, the younger priest blurted
out. "Your eminence! The lunarii have come to the aid of the
empire."

"Show me!" exclaimed Heralt with great
excitement. Scott followed after them as they left the room. He was
curious as well.

The four priests, and a blue haired sorcerer,
gathered round the crystalline sphere. Heralt frowned then waved
his hand over the top to cause the image on the surface to expand
upward into an illusory image. Surprised by the contents of the
imagery Scott could only look on in fascination at this world's
version of a news report.

"Yes, you're seeing it live here on channel
seven! The Lunarian capital ship,
Golden Crescent
has
arrived on the scene and the paladins of Sol-Karan have taken to
the battle field on their sky-cutters. No wait! They also brought
the one hundred first war-mech regiment." said an anchorman who
Scott could only think of as an orc. He had the tusks and brutal
features one might associate with such a person.

The image on screen shifted back to the
battlefield and Scott was able to see what a true battle was like
on this world. Everywhere he looked there were blond haired men and
women whipping through the skies on small boomerang-like objects.
They hurled coherent beams of light down on the armies before them,
fired off shots from large magical firearms, or swooped down and
used their mighty warhammers to do incredible damage to various
eldritch armor knights.

On the ground, massive armored figures that
looked every bit like giant robots stomped through the area while
firing off coherent beams of light or swinging huge blades that
plowed through the enemy.

Magical artillery batteries from the back, it
was the Valkovian military regiment survivors acting as fire
support, and aimed for the thickest concentrations of the knights
in opposition. On the ground all around the battle there could be
seen thousands of bodies and the wreckage of hundreds of vehicles,
even a few giant robot looking devices as well. The ground was
stained black as the innocent earth had become soaked with the
blood of the fallen.

The background music that accompanied the
image was strange, but exciting. It had the blaring brass horns,
orchestrated classical music with booming drums, and overall
dangerous tone that one might expect. However, there was also the
sound of 80s style heavy metal guitar riffs and electronic dance
music mixed in like the battle was some sort of drug-induced rave.
Somehow it all worked together to create a dynamic battle the likes
of which Scott had never even seen on television.

"It's happening! The Lunarian capital ship is
preparing to fire!" exclaimed the orc anchorman.

The gathered men watched in rapt fascination
as the capital ship, a massive flying vessel shaped like a strange
combination of giant glowing golden ring, and stylized wings of
light that flared out and back to give the ship a crescent shape.
In truth, it looked a bit like a boomerang. If the image could be
believed, Scott guessed that the ring portion alone would easily
have a diameter roughly the size of an aircraft carrier from
Earth.

Magical energy was drawn into the center of
the ring causing an extraordinarily intense light to radiate
outward. Scott had his first clear glimpse of Thunder Reign as the
lightning beast appeared from within the clouds and began striking
down at the ship in earnest with its tremendously powerful
lightning.

The wings of light that radiated outward from
the central ring flared brilliantly as the lightning strike hit the
previously invisible shield surrounding the core of the vessel. A
brilliant golden light erupted outward as electricity arced all
around the vessel.

Bright pristine light whirled within the
center of the ring and more power was drawn from within the vessel
and the world around it. The news anchor said something in the
background about the celestial energies used by the main gun of the
Golden Crescent.

Suddenly, paladins turned swiftly from the
battle. Golden shields appeared around them and they placed their
hands over their ears. The Valkovian army immediately began to
hunker down as best they could as well.

"It's coming!" exclaimed Heralt with
excitement, his eyes raptly trained on the screen before him. "The
pride of our nation..."

As the light intensified at the center of the
ring, a wave of pressure washed out that caused the sky to clear
and the land beneath them to tremble. Eldritch armor knights caught
below the ship were crushed into the dirt instantly.

"What...?" asked Dovak as he felt a minor
trembling in the Earth even at this distance. A slight rattle of
items on the table showed the power of what was about to be
unleashed.

It was then that it happened. A brilliant
flash of light, a tremendous clap of thunder, and the release of
the most powerful magical attack Scott had ever seen. Energy
whirled together at a single hyper-condensed point at the center of
the ring. A massive blast of pure celestial mana raced outward and
slammed into Thunder Reign with enough force to cause the entire
city to shake once more.

The light from the attack was so intense that
the men had to look away for a moment. However, the moment the
anchor orc started to shout they looked back. "Crescent
annihilation has done its job! Thunder Reign's immortal thunder
defense field is down!"

"Damn right!" snarled Dovak as he stood up
and made a fist.

Suddenly, the battle came alive again as
every paladin and remaining Valkovian soldier began attacking the
summoned beast in earnest. A rough half minute later the Golden
Crescent began to fire intermittent beams of light that spiraled
into the monster bird with great effect. Thunder Reign screamed in
pain and outrage. Feathers flew, blood poured from hundreds of
minor wounds.

The beast tried to fight back with its
lightning mastery, but the sheer number of attacks kept it
constantly on the ropes. Without its natural defense field it was
just another massively powerful monster. The individual forces
arrayed against it were nothing but ants attacking a gigantic
picnic, but they were also fire ants that worked as a swarm.

Still, even with all of the forces arrayed
against the beast it took the better part of half an hour to
destroy it. The battle for the city was over. Thunder Reign had
been beaten, for now.

Scott watched as the paladins of Sol-Karan
and the Valkovian army regulars mopped up the remaining knights on
the field. Soon, even the beasts that roamed the streets would be
taken care of and the process of restoring the city could
begin.

However, for now there was another task at
hand. At the behest of Heralt Scott went in search of Jimothy's
mother. The head priest needed to attend to the boy to make certain
nothing untoward had happened during their absence from his side.
Normally, the child would be taken to his home or to a hospital to
rest, but during this time of crises he had to remain where he
was.

A short time spent wandering through the
small underground bunker led him to a weeping woman in the far back
corner. Several women and a teenage boy were sitting nearby trying
to console her.

Scott looked at the crying woman for a moment
and noted that her features matched the description that Heralt had
given him. He walked over to someone standing nearby but far enough
away as not to disturb the distraught woman in case she was not who
he sought. "Excuse me, can you tell me who she is?"

"Who she is? What's your problem? Don't like
a woman crying?" asked the man in an overly loud tone that got
everyone's attention anyway. "Huh? Want me to shut her up? Is that
it?"

The dark haired man laughed strangely then
pointed at Scott. "Is her grief upsetting you, fucker?"

He stared at the man. "No, I was trying to
politely ask if you knew whether or not she had a child named
Jimothy, but that didn't work out too damned well."

"Jimothy!" exclaimed the woman. She jumped up
from her seat. "Have you seen my Jimmy?"

"Dark haired boy, about this tall?" asked
Scott before he placed his hand at about hip height. He had no way
of knowing if she was the only mother of a Jimothy in this place.
There was no need to get her hopes up otherwise.

"Yes! Where did you see him! Is he alright?!"
she asked before rushing over to Scott.

"He is now. When I brought him in, I had to
take him to see the head priest." said Scott.

"My, my Jimothy... the priest. Father Heralt
helped him? Was he dead?" asked the woman with fearful eyes.

Scott winced then nodded. "Yes, but he's fine
now. He'll need to rest a few days though. I can take you to
him."

"A few days... but the priest. No, was my
poor little boy so bad off?" Her eyes widened for a moment and she
acquired a fretful look.

Scott closed his eyes briefly then open them
before unleashing a tired sigh. "Ma'am, I really don't think you
want to know too much about that. Your son's here in the shelter,
though."

Several of the gathered people looked like
they were on the verge of tears. It was a wonderful thing to hear
in this time of tragedy. Some of them had loved ones who were still
out in the city.

He led Jimothy's mother to where her son
rested, and Heralt greeted her warmly upon their arrival. "Tishe,
your son has come home to you."

"My boy!" Tishe rushed over to the small body
lying in repose on the table. Jimothy barely breathed at this
point, but he did draw breath. It was far more than she had
hoped.

A slow smile spread across Scott's lips as he
watched her fuss about her son. On Earth such a thing would have
been impossible. The tragic tale of Jimothy would have remained a
tragedy. Here on ARS, there were chances that people could take.
The terrible end need not be the only way of things, at least not
every time.

Two hours passed after the reunion of Jimothy
and his mother before the all-clear was signaled throughout the
city. Once the invading army had withdrawn, the eldritch armor
knights had lost their cohesion and tendency to form into groups.
They had proven to be easy prey for the city militia to mop up
while the army outside the shield did the same on the
battlefield.

Scott spent those hours awash in local color.
A few people stopped by to thank him for what he had done. A few
others had asked whether or not he had seen anyone else. The time
had passed and soon he realized that the better part of nine hours
had occurred since his arrival in this world. He pulled his
crysta-com from his pocket and checked the time. "Almost three in
the morning..."

He moved to thank the head priest for all of
his help that day then left with his reward. His contribution would
be remembered, and Jimothy's mother was thankful. While neither of
those things would directly fill his belly, they at least carried
over into good will from both the local people and the city itself.
That could only help his cause.