Wielder of the Flame (59 page)

“What is that?” Laura asked.

“I have a feeling about it,” Marc replied, “and it isn’t a
good one.”

The moving cloud stopped, not too far from the building
Laura and Marc were standing on top of.

“I am Belator!” The pale figure in the center of the cloud
announced, his voice echoed loudly, enhanced by magic, “Sorcerer and
Necromancer, Descendant of Narameth himself, True Monarch of the Resurrected!
Who dares enter my kingdom and defy me?”

Marc stood tall and proud and shouted, “I am Marcus Kendrick
Hughes, Wielder of the Flame, Defender of all that is good and true! This is
not your kingdom! This city belongs to the Freelanders! We have seen your
appalling deeds here and have come to stop you! I will grant you one chance
now, to destroy your unholy army and leave Lyrridia in peace, never to return
here again, or by the Exalted I will destroy you myself!”

“Silence, insignificant vermin! I take no orders from the
likes-of-you!”

The figure lifted his hand and there was a flash of yellow
light and a bolt of energy shot towards Marc.

Marc dove backwards, barely missing the attack.

A large chunk of the roof where Marc had just been standing,
exploded inwards, leaving a searing, smoking hole in its wake.

Marc stood up hastily, pointing the Sword of the Phoenix at
the floating platform.

“Steady yourself!” Marc cried out softly to Laura. 

Laura got down on her back, leaning against the incline of
the rooftop.

Marc charged a quick but powerful fireball and let it loose
from the Phoenix Blade with bullet-like momentum. Some of the tiles on the roof
rumbled from the small shockwave.

The moving fog-platform veered away at the incoming
projectile, narrowly missing the blast, though a few of the taller monsters got
hit and fell from their place next to the dark clothed figure. They made long
guttural cries as they fell, before they splattered on the ground, far below.

“You will pay for your insolence!” The figure cried and let
a volley of searing energy loose, aimed at Marc and Laura.

They ran across the roof, dodging the blasts.

Marc ducked as he felt hot air pass just behind his neck.
Roof tiles and shattered splinters of wood exploded around them, clattering off
their armor.

Marc brought the Phoenix Blade to bear and fired ten
fireballs in a row, aiming at the floating enemy.

They exchanged attacks, both missing their marks.

Finally, one of Marc’s fireballs hit the side of the
platform, burning part of it away and taking down seven of the undead.

Belator screamed with rage, infuriated. Green light
surrounded his arms and he moved his hands in large sweeping motions, gesturing
to the ground below.

Marc watched as large portions of the army on the main road
below began to glow with green light. He pointed it out to Laura and she
acknowledge it.

The glowing hordes began to move from the main road through
streets and alleyways, marching obediently towards the building that they stood
atop the roof of.

Marc took the opportunity to shoot another blast of fire at
Belator while he was distracted, controlling his armies.

Belator dodged the blast.

A large force of undead reached their building. Marc and
Laura felt the building shake as the horde pressed against the walls, bumping
into it.

Marc glanced down and saw some of the more agile zombies
begin to climb the walls of the structure, though most simply moved inside the
building.

There was a loud creak and crack of wood as the roof
strained under its weakened state.

“We have to get off the roof!” Laura said, also noticing the
climbing monsters.

Marc nodded, “Do you think you could teleport us onto that
floating cloud with him?”

Laura looked and gulped.

“I can try,” she replied.

“We’ll run to the end of the roof there and jump off. I have
faith in you.”

Marc saw yellow flashes of light and streaks of energy
arcing towards them, Belator was firing at them again.

“Now!” Marc cried and began to run.

More chunks of the roof exploded behind them and Marc could
feel the roof begin to crumble where they had just been standing. The collapse
was followed them, threatening to overtake them and pull them down, right up
until they both launched themselves off the roof.

Belator laughed at their action, knowing they had given up
and jumped to their own demise.

Laura grabbed Marc’s free hand, and the moments their
fingers interlocked, and their skin touched, Laura transported them up to the
cloud.

Marc saw only the briefest of magical tunnels as they
traveled and suddenly he was atop the platform, directly behind Belator and the
rest of the undead minions on the cloud with him.

Marc and Laura acted immediately, cutting down and kicking
off Belator’s minions.

After four of his body guards had been hewn down he finally
turned around and had a look on his face that was both one of surprise and lividness.

Now face to face with Belator, Marc and Laura were able to
see and take in his features up close.

He appeared mostly human, though his ears were elongated,
Marc thought,
like an elf,
and his skin was a sickly grayish white. His
body and facial structure were bony and his nose nothing but nostrils. His
naked upper torso was muscular in places and bony in others. Around the cloth
and his waist was a sizable black belt with a large two horned skull as
decoration in the front. The armor on his shoulders, legs, and arms were
similarly adorned. In one hand he wielded a long metal rod with a long scythe
attached to its end. His eyes were black with little white rings for pupils.

“How dare you!” He roared and swung his scythe at Marc.

Marc blocked with his weapon, the two metals clashing with a
shower of sparks.

Belator attacked again and again, each time Marc deflected
with the Phoenix Blade.

Laura severed the head of the last monster on the platform
and turned to see how she could help.

Belator brought the scythe down once more and Marc caught
the curved blade with his sword and locked it in with the winged hilt of the
Sword of the Phoenix. Belator was physically strong on a level Marc had not
encountered before. Marc strained under the pressure of their deadlock.

Belator sneered.

Then suddenly Laura disappeared, and reappeared behind
Belator.

It took him a moment to realize what she was doing but was
too late.

Laura drove her one-and-a-half-hand sword upwards at an
angle through his chest cavity.

Green blood-like liquid shot from the puncture and Belator
let out a cry that was more surprise than pain.

Marc felt Belator’s strength in the deadlock lessen and he
thought.

Good job Laura, we did it!

Then Belator let out a laugh and leveled a hand at Marc.
Belator’s hand flashed with yellow light and Marc felt himself suddenly
surrounded by a searing wave of heat and he was blasted free and clear of the
platform.

Sesuadra’s Secret

“There it is again!” Puck said, his
voice happy.

Sesuadra nodded.

“It must be Marcus, it is just like the light in Kolima.”
Sesuadra added.

The two were riding swiftly down a dirt road traveling
towards where Adoressa had said the Sulendald scouts that they met with had
arrived from.

Sesuadra had gotten on Syril’s saddle as usual, ready to
leave.

Since Redmor had saved Puck, Puck had first attempted to
mount Redmor for the journey. But Redmor had not allowed him. Redmor had seemed
to desire to stay with the other aldoms and wait for its rider’s return. Puck
had instead settled with Tandur, who had been willing to allow the young man to
mount up. After saying goodbye, the two riders and steed had quickly left,
racing down the road.

All throughout their ride they had seen pillars of light
burst through the immense fog that surrounded the area in the distance.

“He must be in Sulendald then,” Sesuadra said, “For that is
where the city would be, if we could see it.”

“I wonder where the others are,” Puck commented. “Is Laura
with Marcus?”

Sesuadra shrugged, “We can only truly find out when this is
all over.

Puck nodded.

The road they were on followed the river for a while, until
it broke away and rose up on a hill.

They stopped at the crest of the hill to survey the valley.

The fog made it impossible to see much. The river made its
way zigzagging around the many hills to finally enter the thick mist. They
could see the figures of men, small, like dots, moving down by the river. They
seemed to be moving in and out of the fog. Ballistas and trebuchets launched fiery
projectiles into the mist at hidden enemies.

“Looks like quite the battle,” Puck said, “Cannot make out
the opposing army though, all hidden within the fog.”

“There,” Sesuadra said, “Do you see it? That collection of
tents there, upon those hills.”

“I see them.”

“That must be where the Sulendald command post is. Let us
head there.”

They took off, urging their steeds forward at a quicker
pace.

“There, look, another light,” Puck said.

They watched as yet another pillar of fiery burning light
pierced the fog.

They were soon approaching the tents.

Barricades and trenches and long wooden pikes surrounded the
tents, but not a single soldier or archer stood to defend them, at least not
the ones that Puck and Sesuadra were approaching. They slowed when they arrived
at the defenses, making their way carefully and slowly through them.

When they reached the top of the hill they saw several small
piles of naked bodies lined up at the edge of the area where the tents no
longer occupied space. They were all men, most of them older, but a few that
appeared to be as young as eighteen. The stink was horrible.

The bodies of the heads had been removed but they could not
see the heads anywhere.

“Gruesome,” Puck said.

Sesuadra nodded.

Brighteyes and Gaurdian let out low croaks of disdain at the
smell. Puck and Sesuadra quickly steered clear, moving to enter the pathways
between the tents.

They heard groaning and the sound of people moving about
inside the tents as they rode by, but they encountered no one until they
reached the center of the encampment which was like a sort of open square.
People moved about the camp, rushing here and there performing various duties.
Some dressed in white tunics were bandaging wounds and pouring water into mugs
and giving them to tired soldiers.

“Pardon,” Puck asked the nearest soldier, “We are looking to
speak with Waronen.”

The soldier shook his head and walked away.

“Excuse me,” Sesuadra asked another person in armor, “We
need to speak with Waronen.”

They were too busy with what they were doing to answer.

Sesuadra shrugged and they continued on until they arrived
at the middle of the square and dismounted.

Finally Sesuadra moved to stop one of the individuals
wearing white tunics, who seemed like they would be more helpful.

“Pardon us,” Sesuadra said, “We have traveled from the Order
of the Leaf, we come to speak with Waronen, Overseer of Sulendald.”

“Too late,” the man replied.

“Too late?” Puck asked.

“Yeah, too late. Waronen left with the rest of the civilians
over a fortnight ago.”

“What?” Puck replied, “The Order of the Leaf said he would
personally escort them to safety. They are back in the valley, waiting for
help, for a signal, for direction!”

“They are an entire encampment of the most skilled and
knowledgeable healers probably in all of Lyrridia, and you are telling us that
Waronen made them a promise and abandoned them!? They are pacifists! They are
waiting for something that will never come, they are waiting for their own
slaughter! What kind of true leader does that!?” Sesuadra was letting his anger
show.

Puck had never seen him get like that.

The man shrugged, “I do not know what to tell you, Waronen
and the rest of the officials already left with the few surviving civilians.
They stayed as long as they could, but things got bad, horribly bad.”

“Who is in charge here then, who is leading the military?”

“That is hard to tell too, most of our commanders fell in
battle already. Who are you two anyway? How old are you? And where did you get
such fine suits of armor?” The man seemed annoyed that they were taking up so
much of his time, and a little suspicious.

“We are Advocates of the Flame! We have come to help save
Sulendald,” Sesuadra stated.

The man smiled as if they were joking.

“The command tent is just over there.”

And he walked away.

Sesuadra left Syril in the middle of the square and marched
up to the tent the man had pointed out.

Puck followed quickly behind, leaving Tandur with his fellow
animal companion.

Sesuadra grabbed the flap of the tent and whipped it open,
striding in with confidence on his face.

Inside the tent were a half dozen men in battered armor who
looked tired and beaten. It was clearly a command tent, where one would convene
with others to study maps and war strategies. It was simply furnished, more for
efficiency than luxury. Five simple wooden chairs sat before a table strewn
with maps and ink bottles and feather pens and parchment both blank and written
upon. One man with a thick beard stood at the head of the table with another
standing at his side. They had both been overlooking a particular map with the
river when Sesuadra stormed in, Puck behind.

“I am Sesuadra, Jidan of Kolima, Freelander, and Advocate of
the Flame, I come to speak with the commanding officer of this army.”

“What is the meaning of this?” The man with the beard said.

 “You do not look to be a Freelander,” One of the men said,
“More like a blue-blood.”

Sesuadra recognized the term as a derogatory one for those
born in Kiohopi, the islanders, the people who spent most of their life on the
sea, fishing or sailing the deep blue waters of the Great Western Waters.

“Did you all hear me, or do I need to repeat myself?”

Puck was surprised at Sesuadra’s sudden flare of emotions
and his expression of them.

Some of the men stood up from their chairs, hands moving to
draw swords.

“Save the violence for the battlefield,” Sesuadra said, “We
are here from the Order of the Leaf.”

The room fell silent.

The men sat down.

“We meant to send scouts days ago, but we have no one left
to send, we do not even have troops to defend our own encampment as is clearly
evident.” He gestured at Puck and Sesuadra’s presence, “No one stopped you on
your way here. Our leaders are killed, the army’s morale is all but gone as
well.”

One of the older men sat up, “Did you say Advocate of the
Flame?”  

“Advocates,” Puck corrected, “we both are.”

“The light, from Sulendald, we have been seeing it since
this morning—”

“Yes,” Sesuadra answered, “It is the same light as from
Kolima. The Wielder of the Flame is in Sulendald now, defeating the enemy.
Which is what we must do here, help fight.”

 “What is the plan of attack? What did we interrupt, what
were you talking of before?”

 The men exchanged glances.

“We were not planning another attack. We were planning a
retreat. Sulendald is lost, the Overseer gone, our commanders slain, we cannot
reclaim the city. There is no one with the military expertise to lead us.”

“Yes there is,” Sesuadra said and he stepped up to the
table.

They looked at him in disbelief.

“I have read several hundred manuscripts and ancient scrolls
on military tactics.”

“Reading is not application,” One of the men said.

“It will have to do.”

“At least he
can
read,” another man said to the one
who had complained.

Puck stepped forward too.

“What is the situation? What do we need to know to proceed
forward?”

No one moved.

Sesuadra let out his breath in frustration.

He began to unbuckle his gauntlets, placing them on the
table with more than needed force, pausing his sentence as he did so.

“I—” He said, “do not— have time— to waste.”

He took off his gloves, revealing carefully wrapped white
cloth all the way up to his forearms.

He proceeded to unravel the cloth.

His hands and arms were covered with markings, like ink on
his skin, that slowly shifted and moved.

He opened his palm and a symbol appeared there in soft
glowing light.

“He is a sorcerer!” One of the men said, taking a step back.

Puck watched in surprise, he had not know Sesuadra could
wield magic.

Sesuadra positioned his hand in front of him and pressed the
air, leaving the symbol floating in front of him.

The air around the tent began to flutter and then move
quickly in a circle.

The clothes and hair of everyone inside the tent began to
whip with the swiftly moving wind. The maps on the table shifted and the men
moved to stop the parchment from gusting onto the floor. The wind moved faster,
growing louder.

“I have much greater power than this!” Sesuadra cried over
the roar. “And my friend here too can wield magic!”

“All is well!” The man with the beard shouted.

Sesuadra dropped his hand and the wind immediately ceased.

“Ok,” The man said again, “All is well.”

They straightened the maps.

And Sesuadra stepped forward again to the table.

The man with the beard did so as well.

“Here,” he said, “The river runs through here. We have been
able to hold them here. The enemy is one like we have never before seen. A dark
enchantment corrupts the bodies of the fallen, bringing them back to life. From
what we have learned, and at a great cost, they are linked to the fog and
prefer not to come out while the sun is up, though they do fine under the cover
of the mist, or at night. At night they can attack unhindered. The only way to
truly stop one of them is to separate their heads from their bodies. They never
sleep, and it appears they have no need to eat but prefer to feast on human
flesh. We destroyed the bridge leading across the water and that held them off
for a long while. But then a young woman appeared, a sorceress, she froze the
water and lead the monsters across the ice. The young woman disappeared again
soon after a large force crossed the river, leaving the monsters to take care
of us. We lost many men that day but held our ground. When the sun was up we
constructed ballista’s and siege weapons to launch fire into the mist, it burns
it away temporarily, but every day the fog grows larger. Our best tactic so far
is to run into the fog in small forces, cut off as many heads from the
creatures as we can, and run quickly back into sunlight. We started to do very
well doing this, until recently the young woman appeared again. She used her
magic to specifically target our leaders and took them out one by one. She is
down there now, fighting against our troops. We are next in line in leadership,
but none of us has commanded more than ten men at a time. We convened here to
plan out our retreat.”

Sesuadra nodded, carefully taking in all the information.

He slapped his hand on the table when the man finished, “We
will
not
retreat, we will destroy the enemy, and we will reclaim
Sulendald. The Order of the Leaf depends on us, as well as all those who have
been pushed out of their homes by this evil. Mount up! And take me to the front
lines, I will deal with this young female sorceress myself, Puck, are you with
me?”

Puck nodded, feeling empowered by Sesuadra’s encouraging
words.

Sesuadra looked at the men.

“Are you with me!?” He shouted.

“Aye!” They replied.

Without another word Sesuadra turned and marched out of the
tent, leaving his gauntlets behind.

Puck scrambled to keep up.

The men slowly exited the tent after them, moving down one
of the paths that led to the makeshift stables.

“That was quite a speech,” Puck said as he and Sesuadra
moved towards their aldoms. “and I did not know you could wield magic.”

“No one was supposed to know,” Sesuadra answered, “I made a
promise not to tell anyone until an appointed time.”

“Why did you then?”

They put their foot in the stirrups of the saddles of their
aldoms and jumped up.

“You saw those men, they would not believe us by our word
only and we are running out of time. We have to protect the Order of the Leaf.”

Puck was nodding, “Kimira, you mean.”

“Huh?”

“I saw the way you were looking at her, you like her.”