Silver Cathedral Saga (31 page)

She took
off as quick as that. Jumping into the Shade Sea as soon as the sky
door opened for the three Swans to take those travelling to
Swansie.

The Payment

It was
on the fields of Shrin.

The lines
were scattering, in a matter of minutes now the Shadows had broken
through the Earth-wielders power.

Yet they
were taken by some other destructive force they had not seen
before. It was not a dragon, like the ones told in legend on
Amaranth. It was something grey, bigger and mightier. It became
clear to most that this beast was a living siege weapon, kept to
break the strongest magick that kept Swansie safe from their
Shadows blackness.

There was
only one; but one was all it took to shatter the protective rock
wall that flew in all directions. It cracked and was flung apart
bit by bit, too easily for some mindless beast. There was a greater
power in front of them here they had not foreseen or even thought
or dreamt about.

The
Beast-casters had in turn turned into this creature, as they
thought this would be a great advantage, yet it was not of their
world or any of the near ones magick and religion, and in doing so,
they turned into beasts themselves; the magick of the gods could
only protect those who belonged there; unless they were lucky
enough to be an Edeolon, and their body, mind and spirit allowed to
adapt to further, stranger lands at accelerated speeds.

The Shadows
started to come forward, and there was in about a minute of them
all walking from their starting position—a charge upon the
Astorians. It had started.

There were
of course, some Battle-casters spared for the front lines, but most
were kept for what tactical advantage they could get by air.

Though it
seemed that would be a mistake now, as this living siege weapon had
wings; even though it looked too big to fly.

“What is
this sorcery of a beast,” said a strangely familiar voice that was
female.

“It is the
spawn from the underworld. A keeper of souls. Only it has come for
ours today; to keep,” said another Spell-caster amidst the
scattering lot breaking in fear still. Some of the Spell-casters
fell into the depth of Swansie, and it seemed hope was lost with
their lack of courage.

Only the
dawn came upon them, and with it, the Fire-casters limitless
stamina. The beast came to the front lines, and a warrior with long
hair flowing from both cuts on (the side of) her helmet stood in
front. The creature tried to stare her down and scare her away. But
she took her sword in her hand, and grasped at it harder. She then
positioned herself to throw the sword into the eye of the beast,
and when she did, hitting it precisely where she wanted, the being
wailed and screeched before flailing.

The
Spell-casters that were there, looking at the beast, were few, but
this female warrior gave them a little courage to rally forward and
strike at the unmissable gigantic life on the battlefield with
their magick before the sun bathing them.

The Shadows
had suddenly stopped now, watching the frightening grey being bash
its head against the soldiers, in rage. Fire-casters threw volleys
of magickally controlled fire at it, some in flames ascending upon
its feet, some in balls of fire. Some just encompassing it, hoping
the heat would make it fall. The flames grew, and soon enough there
was mammoth amounts propelled on it all at once, as the
Spell-casters seemed to once again find their will to fight.

The beast’s
will fell after a little while, more from the raging flames fired
at its four feet, which seemed longer than it actually was. The
Earth-casters then called up the strongest roots and vines to strap
the beast down so that it was trapped and couldn’t move. Nature’s
life sprang to life from the ground and adhered to the commands of
aid. One Star-caster, then another, used their star travelling
magick to cause some sense of blindness, as they flew close to the
beast in their shooting star form, being completely safe, which is
rarely the case in any battle.

Then that
familiar voice called out again on the battlefield: “There is no
room for the underworld here,” said this voice in anger. She took
off her helmet, the others, shocked at who it was. “I am queen to
this land, to these people.” She stood before the beast as it tried
to break free, and it did, its strength was mightier than the earth
magick that tried to keep it bound to the ground and earth. She
looked up to the dying stars, the one that were disappearing from
the dawn being upon them. “Upon a star a child is born, inside the
dark she turns from dawn; by night she becomes herself. But
everything else is for our help!”

She
clenched her fists, and shot out from both of them, aiming at this
living siege weapon—a star energy (the colour of those stars one
sees at night not sat alone in the sky) that was as bright as a
star itself; only she could see the light without it hurting her
eyes. The two beams joined to make one when she brought her hands
closer together. The magick seemed to glow a white within the blue
on the edges when the beams met, and it struck the head of the
beast with such force that it pushed it up with a snap and crack,
and fell down quickly with a twisted and broken neck.

The queen
and the Spell-casters waited for the beast to move again—but it did
not. It was clearly dead, and there was some great relief from
it.

They all
cheered for a few seconds for their victory from this remarkably
big beast.

The
Beast-casters had killed many of their own from turning into a
beast just the same and mindless, but as soon as the beast they
copied from did in fact die, it returned them to their forms
unharmed; but in a state or pure exhaustion.

But then
they all saw the Shadows begin to move forward. The dead siege
weapon’s body was still near them, but it didn’t change what was
about to come for them.

The
blackness seemed to be taking over in mind, as well as in sight.
The tens of thousands plagued over the Shrin Plains like a sickness
similar to a plague.

The queen
shouted, “Form the lines. Form—the—Lines,” she shouted even louder.
Those that still stood with some courage, felt it creep away again
looking out to the numbers growing nearer.

The lines
formed, but what was left was so few, that they seemed like rogue
droplets against a mighty winter coming; ready to be chilled and
frozen.

The queen
spoke again. “I am no ordinary queen standing here with you today.
Today, you stand with part of Starao herself. Her blood is in me,
and also part of her power. Which is why we will win this.” She
yelled so strong her voice cracked.

The
Spell-casters all gathered their internal and physical
strength.

“Rangers,
fire on my mark,” said the queen as she pulled out the sword from
the dead beast’s eye. She held it up, before swinging it around, as
if the ease of combat had come back to her from this sword. She
then pointed the blade in the direction of the Shadows nearing.

“Fire,”
said the queen.

The volleys
of icicles came from one side, and fire from another. Two
opposites. They was only less than two hundred left now, and there
was more rangers than close range fighters. Which meant this battle
was going to end really fast in one way or another.

Then it
happened. They all clashed into each other, with the might of
thunder. With a mighty roar that erupted, and swamped all that was
good in the world.

Then, as
they started crashing into one another, the few Battle-casters and
Shadows, all listening now, heard a noise murmur in the
background.

The
descendant of Starao was fighting with the might of a
Battle-caster, as all royalty created the Swan Knights and kept its
tradition alive with its family and those they think are adequate.
She flung groups of Shadows aside with the power of her mind
magick; and it seemed to be stronger than those other
Battle-casters, though it was not clear if this was because she was
of royal blood or the descendant of Starao; maybe the two combined
made it this way. A hybrid kind of Swan Knight and
Battle-caster.

She looked
to the sky, seeing something with her descendant blood a lot of the
others didn’t get the chance to see, nor could see; her
demigod-like eyes seemed better than all those around her, most of
her senses were. A trait that would become a clear sign of a
relationship to a certain little girl in the future not too far
down the line.

There were
small dots flying through sky, but Snowbridge carried on fighting
for those after a brief moment seeing them near the last standing
city behind her, and for her family, and people that made up this
world she had grown and learnt to love, and be thankful for what
her ancestor had done—for what Starao herself had started.

Upon the Dark

“We are
nearing our destination Swan Knights. Look fast, and hold to your
own self for delivering the mightiest blows that will suffice a
kill. Ready your magick armour…”

The Swan
knights flew behind the king, him being the point of a triangle, in
perfect formation, spread out enough so that if projectiles came at
them, it would not affect the others a part of this flying
group.

All the
Swan Knights took their sword out from the side of their swans
saddle bag, which was attached what they used to remain seated and
comfortable. They all held on with their right arm to the reins to
steer and control their transport War Swan.

The swans
all changed as soon as they took their swords; with a white glow
surrounding them all, and one second after this sudden, but slight
aura of energy that surrounded them, the skin of the swans seemed
to feel much more dense and heavier. Some of the Spell-casters
touched the white feathers as they continued to fly to assure
themselves their magick armour worked as it should have done. And
it did!

Yet not
just heavier from the king’s point of view, as he done the same
also with his team of hope. His rays of light among the dark.

The birds
still flew very well, but it seemed as if the magick from the Swan
Knights made the skin and feathers of the War Swans thicker, not a
lot, because they were already relatively so, but enough to give
weightiness to this notice and sight, even to the untrained naked
eye.

The numbers
of the War Swans were now upon the darkness of the Shadows. It
didn’t take long before a change had to happen, the king of Astora,
of all, knew this. “
To the queen”, yelled the king before he
nose dived first straight down, to the black that roamed the
floating land of Astora, his world which he meant to take back.
Right now.

The prince
was a little farther behind the king; three Swan Knights were set
to surround and guard him at all times, and for another to replace
him or her, if any notice even just one is killed. Though it did
not look as if they surrounded and guarded him just now, as they
were just in a locked formation, barely breaking, diving below and
following their king.

The sky
rained with the War Swans spreading upon the Shadows. It was far
enough up that it looked as if white descended upon black—trying to
not so much overtake them, but take their land again. But anyone
knew these beings could not be reasoned with in any way. At least
not by the same ways one would expect to.

The king
made sure he got as close to the front lines as possible before he
was far enough down to strike. His—was the first, in a line of
fearful swift, and powerful blows.

The king
held the sword of his father, a sword passed down for generations,
which bestowed great power to whoever held it, and was worthy to
rule. The swans wings were positioned so it hit a group of enemies
from its now thicker, heavier skin. The large feathers seemed to
cut through them like soft, warm butter would do with a well forged
steel knife.

All the
other knights made their swans do the same as the king before them.
The feathers of the Swan Knights were so tough and sharp, though
didn’t look that way. They looked frail at a quick glance, which is
what the Shadows thought before they were sliced into the air, and
turned into black dust, spreading with the wind’s current.

The king
struck down two Shadows with his sword whilst his War Swan spread
out its wings and killed a number of
the enemies
surrounding the front lines. He
destroyed thirty soldiers when tallied up, easily, mostly from the
War Swan’s magickal armour and razorlike feathers; that looked
just as normal and
natural
still
. He may
have took out thirty Shadows
now
, but this was nothing
in the enemies army
.

The other
Swan Knights were all still alive, as the king turned around
quickly to see. Which he was surprised at. They seemed to be taking
out numbers like he just did, and saw the rest of the swans descend
from the higher skies, to the darkness of the infectious
Shadows.

There
seemed to be no sign of the Dark Queen, or of any of these other
living siege weapons the king now saw dead before flying higher up,
rallying around with several others. He charged again. The odds
seemed in their favour now in some odd way, or so they all felt at
these moments. The Shadows seemed to be more involved with taking
out the front lines; they didn’t even take note of the flying
numbers here yet, like they were focussing on one goal only, and
could not change it,

The king
and three others took out about another twenty each this time. The
numbers amounted a great deal at the position of the front lines,
the ones defending Swansie. But not to the overall army. The Swan
knights were mostly near the front lines, trying to drown out a
great number ascending upon them, as there was no chance of them
making it—if that was to happen.