From the Ashes
He
thought he had lost Alexandra. His
first reaction was grief, believing that his friend was dead. She had been walking a few paces ahead
of him, and it had all happened so fast.
The last words she had said to him still rang in his ears.
“Don’t worry, Will. The front lines of the siege haven’t
gotten past the Guardian District in all this time. They’ll never make it to us.”
But that man had come out of nowhere,
bearing down on Alexandra with a sword in his hand and murder in his eyes. She had reacted quickly, throwing a
fireball in his chest out of a combination of training, reaction, and
nerves. But he had moved quickly
as well, and his sword had pierced her stomach and stayed there even as he was
blown away by her magic. She had crumpled
to the floor, her beautiful dark brown hair covering her face, her hands
gripping the hilt of the sword protruding from her stomach while blood pooled
beneath her. She lay still on the
ground, her eyes closed. She
didn’t even make a sound. William
hoped it meant that she had passed out from the shock, and wouldn’t suffer the
agony of a prolonged death by gut wound.
She was only thirteen years old.
William was only thirteen years old, as were most of the other people
here, holding this bridge against an enemy that was as determined and
unrelenting as the storm that beat down upon the city. They would normally have had older,
more experienced mages and knights fighting in this situation, and the children
would have been their apprentices.
But the siege had gone on for over a month, and the enemy had been
effective at sabotaging their supply lines and emergency rations. Many brave warriors had fallen
defending territory or trying to retake it, and the ones who should have been
guarding this strategic point were all fighting in the Guardian District, the
front line of the battle. The only
defenders here were children. None
of them should have had to die like this.
William’s first reaction was grief. It lasted half a second, replaced by
confusion, rage, and grief again.
His emotions churned and he felt that he was going to be sick. But he had been trained well, and he immediately
entered a defensive stance as he saw his friend fall, sword held high and
shield ready to block an incoming attack.
He had run to stand over his friend a moment after the man had been
blown ten feet back by the fireball.
The soldier who had attacked them was one of the men in the Sapiencia army
that had been laying siege to the city.
He was on the ground, his chest badly burned. William thought he could see a charred rib cage in the wound
Alexandra had made. His head was
numb now. The smell of burnt flesh
was strong, but it was just one of many frantic thoughts that raced through his
mind. He was certain his friend
was dead, but he refused to look back at her and see the damage. He was afraid his resolve would break
at the sight. Tears poured freely
down his cheeks as he walked toward the fallen soldier. He didn’t even notice when his younger
cousin Milla ran up to Alexandra to lay healing hands on her. His vision had become blurry, but he
could still see the enemy scout as he crawled to a wall to prop himself up for
some feeble defense against the boy walking slowly toward him with a sword in
his hand. Why had he jumped out
and attacked suddenly? Alexandra
had said something right after reassuring him. William couldn’t remember it right now, so heated and full
of raging emotions. Had she seen
the man, or had he feared that he would be caught? Did he think that he could take a group of children
alone? He had to have known that a
group of noble children were trained to fight from the day they could walk, and
they outnumbered him twenty to one, and were heavily armed. People do strange things in certain
situations, but one thing was clear.
This man had been a fool.
At a closer inspection of the scout’s
wound, William saw that the armor had taken the worst of it. He was grievously injured, yes, but he
would most likely live if his wounds were treated within the next few minutes. The right thing to do would be to see
that the man was treated and take him prisoner. To spare the man’s life and give him a hope of seeing his
family again, that was the virtuous choice. Prisoner exchanges were common after a war, though most warriors
would rather die fighting out of spite to their rivals. However, this man was in no position to
fight.
William was the son of Frederick Virtus,
a paragon of honor and virtue within the Noble House of Virtus. The boy was expected to follow in his
father’s footsteps and become a great and honorable knight, one that everyone
could look up to. But as he walked
toward the soldier who had run his friend through, he knew that he could never
meet those expectations. And right
now, at this very moment, he didn’t care.
William slit the scout’s throat as a wave of Sapiencia poured over the
bridge.
Withdrawing his blade from his brother’s
chest, Frederick Virtus looked down at the blood on his hands. It was fresh from the kill, and the
thought that it would never wash off left him empty inside. He shivered as the cold wind and rain blew
through the broken windows of the once pristine throne room. He felt it, despite his ornate silver armor
and the clothes he wore underneath.
Several warrior priests of the Noble House of Virtus lay dead on the
ground. Those that still lived tended
to their wounded, or ministered to the fallen. They had been his vanguard, charging forward into the heart
of his brother’s castle. Men who
had once called themselves paladins had fought alongside the late king. White liveried priests wielding blades
blessed by the Virtus High Priestess Liandra had clashed with humans and
mutants alike as they battled King Serean and his men through the castle
halls. Their lives had been a part
of the price paid for the insanity unleashed here in the castle. The lives of the soldiers they had once
called friends paid the rest.
Frederick reached up to his ear and spoke
into the small radio device he wore.
“Solomon, the deed is done. Serean is dead.” His voice was steady, though his hands
were not and tears ran down his face in a somber torrent.
“His co-ruler is dead as well,” came the
sorrowful reply from the Lord of House Eruditio. “I have killed High Magister Ralar. The alliance between our houses is now
null and void, Frederick.”
“There is still the business of Thymos
and his army. Where are they now, Solomon?”
“Outside in the courtyard and training
grounds, destroying the forces of the High Magister and the Grand Crusader. The palace is surrounded.”
“How did they make it through our
defenses? I thought they were
still fighting in the Guardian District?”
“They were in the first district several
hours ago, Frederick. But the
church marches with Thymos, now.
It was foolish of you to put them in charge of those barricades,
especially after the way they learned of our brother’s schemes.”
“I have done a lot of foolish things
lately,” Frederick mused bitterly.
He had done a lot of foolish
things, indeed. In the past three years
he had let his brother form an alliance with house Eruditio, one of the four sworn
enemies of the Virtus. Serean had
promised peace. But instead, High
Magister Ralar had led him down a path of madness and damnation. Serean had expected Archbishop Mathens to
support his plans when he revealed them earlier that day, just as he had
expected Frederick and Solomon to offer their support as well. He had lost all ability to recognize
his own folly and his personality had become warped and deranged. When the reception of his new army was
met with disgust and questions the king did not like, he had turned on the
group of church officials and slaughtered them. Frederick and Solomon had escaped alongside a single commander
of the church’s army, the Sanctus Comitatus. The two noble lords had returned with forces of their own to
put a stop to the atrocities their brothers were committing against their own
people. No one within the noble
houses except for Solomon, Frederick, and the warriors and mages they had
gathered knew of this. Those
warriors who had been corrupted by Serean and Ralar were put to the sword.
It was easy for Frederick to blame the
Eruditio for bringing his honorable brother to such a terrible state, and most,
if not all Virtus would do just that if they ever found out what had truly
happened to their beloved Serean. But Frederick had to share the blame. While he had spoken against the
alliance at first, he had eventually accepted his brother’s idea out of love
and admiration. Now, he was
reaping the consequences of not stopping Serean when he had the chance.
“Our children were fighting near the
gates to the Noble District, Frederick.”
Solomon’s words broke the Virtus lord
from his thoughts. There was clear
concern in his voice. The Noble
District was one level up from the Merchant’s District, cradled in the semi-circular
pattern of the city. Each layer of
the city was designed to be a defense against attackers, with the Guardian
District the furthest away and the first line of defense. The Noble District was supposed to be
the safest district in the city, since only this morning Thymos and his forces
were still engaged in the first district.
It was believed that he would give up the siege any day now, but that
had been ruined by the insanity of the King and High Magister. Now they found themselves in the
palace, with the only escape being through the tunnel system that led through
the Sergrest Mountain Range that sat directly behind the palace. But taking that route would mean
abandoning their kin, and that was unthinkable. For that very reason, the passage hadn’t been used in
centuries. Nobles were only forced
out after their rival house had taken the castle, and the losing party was
always forced to fight their way out of the city.
“Your daughter is fine, Solomon,”
Frederick said, trying to reassure his friend. They could not be friends anymore, not after this. But Frederick still felt sympathy,
especially when his own son was out there too.
“Alexandra is powerful for her age, but
she can be easily distracted,” Solomon said, voicing his fears. “If she loses focus during the battle…”
“William will be there to defend
her. I have trained him for such
things as sieges, and he has excelled at these lessons. Let us focus on the here and now, not
on things that we have no control of.”
“Indeed. And what of the Sapiencia beating down our doors?”
“Let them have their victory. This was a stain on the good names of
our noble houses. But if they have
us surrounded… then there is no way out but to meet our deaths.”
“So be it,” Solomon said. “Let this be our punishment for not
stopping this madness sooner.”
The two noble lords ordered their
soldiers to return to their families after the army of the King and High
Magister was destroyed, assuming they survived the meeting with the Sapiencia
outside. They were told to keep
the truth of the day’s tragic events a secret in order to protect the memory of
their lords and the honor of their houses. They would say that the King and High Magister, as well as
Frederick and Solomon, had been slain by Thymos, and that would be the end of
it. They walked out onto the
battlefield through the combined Virtus and Eruditio forces, fighting their way
through men who were not men, but misshapen creatures that should never have
existed. They moved quickly to the
center of the battle. The Sapiencia
were already routing the corrupted army, now it was just a matter of finishing
them off. The Sapiencia fought
alongside the Sanctus Comitatus.
Priests and paladins unaffiliated with any noble house killed alongside
the grim faced, grey mail clad soldiers of Thymos. Frederick and Solomon had given strict orders to their men
not to fight the Sapiencia.
Instead, they slaughtered the rotting, possessed beasts that polluted
the castle grounds. Now, those
creatures existed only for the sake of bloodlust, and like rabid animals, they
were put down.
The two lords waded through the clashing
forces until they found him. Lord
Thymos Sapiencia, Head of the Noble House of Sapiencia, called Wise One by his
kin, fought two young men in their mid-twenties. They were the sons of Ralar and Serean, and their presence
tormented their uncles as they watched.
Neither of the heirs used magic, and both of their bodies had been
sacrificed as tools for the experiments of their kin. They were young, strong, and agile. But their faces were gaunt and
emotionless, their skin pale, and their lips sewn shut; their soulless eyes
tracked their opponent’s movement without blinking. Despite their condition, they were skillful and intelligent. They fought without making any sound, not
even a grunt of pain as Thymos ran them through repeatedly. The older man stood his ground,
fighting with a ferocity and skill that precious few could match. His ornate silver plate armor was
heavily scarred from weeks of continuous battle, but the light in his silver
eyes was fierce and unrelenting. As
the mage and the paladin approached the scene, they watched as Thymos beheaded
both young men in succession, finally ending their torment.
Turning toward the approaching lords he
raised his sword to strike, and instinctively Solomon and Frederick took
defensive stances. Frederick held
his sword high, and his shield level with Thymos’s weapon. Solomon, his bloodstained emerald robes
blowing in the wind though the rain had stopped, held his raven head staff as
though it were a sword he might jab with as it crackled with destructive
power. The three faced each other,
neither moving a muscle despite the battle raging around them. Then, slowly, Frederick lowered his
guard.
“Kill me and be done with it. My family’s honor is restored with the
death of my brother and his son. I
allowed his rise to power, and his foolish alliance with the Eruditio. I deserve death as much as he did.”
Solomon stood down as well, nodding his
head in somber agreement.
“I have laid siege to the capital for forty-seven
days,” Thymos replied, anger, exhaustion and confusion causing his voice to
break as he spoke. The battle was
dying down. The Sapiencia had won,
but were now busy crushing the twisted remains of their foes for good measure. “I have seen many faces that I
recognized among your brother’s forces here in the courtyard; faces that I saw dead
or dying on the battlefield. Faces
of soldiers that I killed weeks ago!
Why am I killing them again?”
“There is much that we do not understand
here, Thymos,” Solomon replied. “I
believe that my brother and his magi somehow rediscovered the Lost Archives and
were driven mad by whatever it is they discovered. If that is true, then they sealed the entrance and hid it before
I could prove my theory. They are…
lost, again.”
“Where is your brother, Solomon?”
“He is dead. I killed him for his crimes against nature and the abuse of
his own soul, and the souls of others.
Judging by the state of him, I consider it a mercy.”
“And I take it the Grand Crusader died by
your hands, Frederick?”
“Of course.”
“Where do your houses stand on these
atrocities?” Thymos asked warily.
“They know nothing of it, aside from the
soldiers that followed us into the castle,” Frederick replied. “They have been too busy defending the
city from your siege to realize what has transpired. What you saw here was an army of the dead, the insane, and
the possessed that our brothers planned to unleash upon the Sapiencia. I suspect they would have attacked the
Virtus and Eruditio as well, given the chance. Such was the depth of their insanity.”
Thymos lowered his own blade and stared
at the two men for a long while.
He seemed to be deciding something. Finally, he sighed and walked closer. A ring of Sapiencia and Sanctus now
surrounded the three men. Frederick
and Solomon’s soldiers had gathered around their lords defensively, but they
were too few in number to fight their way out.
“The five noble houses have fought over Aterdivitia
and its wealth for many generations.
We have all owned it multiple times, but never has any house entered
into an alliance with any other house.
The hatred between us has always been too great. I honestly had hopes that you were
changing that, but I see that they were poorly founded.”
Thymos Sapiencia stood directly in front
of Solomon and Frederick. The
three men measured each other as equals and rivals. The partnership between the Virtus and the Eruditio was
ended, and their forces would quickly turn on each other once the news got out.
What
game is Thymos playing?
Frederick wondered.
“The city is mine and I will be king of
it. I have the blessings of the
church. I could annihilate your
forces in the city, but your kin would return for revenge. This cycle is endless. It must be broken! I propose something that will earn us
the hatred of our own houses. I
propose peace, here and now. Let Aterdivitia
be shared among the houses, its opportunities given to those that would earn it
without further bloodshed between us.”
“We have seen the results of such an
alliance, Thymos,” Solomon said, his tone level and serious. “It lies dead at our feet and all
around this courtyard. Can you
handle the search for the Lost Archives better than our brothers did? Or will it drive you mad as well?”
“I will not allow these atrocities to
happen again. And I will execute
any who would seek to misuse the Archives and the power they contain, once they
are found.”
“And what of the Saevitia and the Potentis?” Frederick asked. “What will be their response to our
alliance?”
“They will be welcomed to join it. They will not stand against us. If they do, then they should be
destroyed.”
“That would be a mockery of our peace.”
“But a necessary one for the cycle to be
broken.”
“They will agree to it, if grudgingly,” Solomon
said, holding his chin in thought.
“I will speak to Rothgar and Theodore myself. I will make them see the need for peace, on behalf of future
generations.”
“Then it is settled,” Thymos said walking
past the other two men as he headed into the castle. Turning back, he looked at them one last time. “Go, take command of your houses and
bring them around to this peace treaty.
Give them no choice in the matter, and I will do the same with the Sapiencia.”
With that, the three men went their
separate ways to create a hard wrought and very troubled peace.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright © 2013-2014 All Rights Reserved by C. T. Tunnell
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