Silent Requiem (Tales of Ashkar Book 3) Read online

  She stood alone in a clearing in the woodlands just south of the Vical River Basin in Terra Sur. The only way to identify the grave was by the tree that was thicker from the others around it and carved with the letters ‘SP’, standing guard like a stoic warden. Only she and a few others knew of this spot. She had visited it many times, and it had been many times that she looked upon the grave solemnly.

  Years ago, that sorrow would eventually turn to anger every time she looked north to Terra Nort. Now, she looked northward with presence of mind. That clarity had allowed Sora to steer the Skyward Hands toward Ashkar's salvation. It was by that same clarity that she had raised Erendil from infancy.

  Sora held a black sash in her hand, lightly running her thumb and index finger in a circle motion on it. It was like the one that she had given to Erendil. The one the towrth had worn around his head was hers. The one in her hand now was given to her by her long-deceased brother.

  It represented all that the Skyward Hands stood for, and why it came to be in the first place. Sora had imparted that to Erendil just like her brother had done to her. Now, both were dead.

  I wish I had been there, Brother. You weren't supposed to die. Now Erendil, too, all because I could not be there. Am I failing? Is this all still not enough?

  With her other hand Sora reached into her cloak and withdrew the Orb of Death. She peered into its depths, but unlike the Orb of Knowledge, its power was not apparent. Concentrating on it, she found herself feeling physically ill. She felt weak, and before she could do anything she hurled the contents of her stomach and almost keeled over. Sora removed the orb from sight and tucked it back into her garment. While the sickness vanished, the uneasy feeling lingered in the air.

  Sora took a moment to gather her bearings, then glanced one last time at the pota flower.

  Your death will not be in vain, Brother. None of yours will be. I promise.

  _ _ _

  Erendil groaned.

  He was moving, as was evident by the two pairs of legs trudging onward across fields of leaves and grass below him. But, they were not his own. He found himself slung over the shoulder of someone who he did not know, and he was not in a position to take a look at the person's face.

  He felt weak, and at first he thought himself dead. The person carrying him must have been a ferry into a place he knew not where. Perhaps it was Heaven, the place everyone seemed to hope to reach. Perhaps it was Hell, though verdant fields of life did not come to mind when he thought of a place like that. Perhaps it was neither. He didn't really know what the Towrth believed in.

  Erendil slowly realized that he was not dead. The first and most obvious indicator was the slow, rhythmic breaths that he took. As his chest filled with air, he felt a sharp pain exactly where he had been impaled by the earthen spike that he had surely thought had ended him.

  The second indicator was, unfortunately, the presence of Akaba within him. If he was dead, then it would be a cruel fate placed upon him if he had to continue existing alongside such a terrible entity. He must have been alive, then. He did not know why or how, but he was too weak to do anything about it at the moment.

  At the very least, he was not being assaulted by his elemental. Akaba neither spat poison at him nor did he feel the elemental attempting to take control of his body. Not that it would matter in such a debilitated state, anyway. It felt as though the elemental was simply standing idly by, something that Akaba had not done for as long as Erendil could remember since connecting with the other more than a decade ago.

  Figuring that complexity would have to wait as well, Erendil took a gander at the figure who was carrying him. Whoever it was wore a tattered coat covering the entire body, leaving the towrth without much of a clue.

  Erendil tried to say something, but only managed to let loose a hoarse noise that brought him even more pain.

  “Rest, Erendil,” said the man who carried him. “Rest and recover. Ashkar needs you still.”

  _ _ _

  “Bitter blizzard, Jaur!” shouted Cad.

  His large blade transformed, becoming larger still. Steel turned into blue ice, the glinting metal being replaced by a sharp blade of cold expanding to nearly twice its original size. He raised his weapon high so that the others could see, and it was not long before they joined him in releasing their weapons.

  Cad turned to look at the men and women next to him and nodded, then charged wordlessly. Behind him, the armies of Arcadia followed in his wake. So too did the soldiers on the other side. The plains rumbled under the two tides of flesh that ran at each other.

  His heart beat faster. Not just because of his powerful strides, but because the battle was here. No longer did he have to wait, and no longer did he have to think. The processes, the movements, and the responses were all automatic.

  There was no room for empathy, nor was there room to hesitate. The only thing to do was fight and survive. Even his lead was automatic. Anything he did or say to command the others did not come from critical thought or contemplation. In the front there was no time for that. Ohrl'han or Srdiv could afford to stop and think. Cad could not, and his blade sung as he reeled his arms back and slashed through the air in a diagonal arc.

  The blade came down, connecting with the shoulder plate of one of the men who had the misfortune of being the first of Liberty's forces to engage. It cleaved the man cleanly in two, shock and pain displaying across his already lifeless face.

  Cad did not stop, focusing his eyes and blade to the next. Shouts rose above the clanging of steel and the bursting of elemental abilities. All types of elemental attacks soared through the air, blasting, gushing, and bathing the battlefield with death. Boulders accompanied by arrows flew through the air, landing farther back in Liberty's lines. Banners of Arcadia were waved about, and so too did banners depicting the Order of the Faith's brand.

  Cad ducked just as a jolt of lightning arced over his head, then leapt at another foe who was locked in battle against one of his own. His sword came crashing down, spilling the blood of his enemy across the ground. Again he moved into action to find the next opponent, and he brought up his sword just in time to parry a blow that was directed at him.

  The foe foolish enough to attack him snarled, pressing down in furor as if he thought he could overpower one of Arcadia's leaders. The man was hardly armored, and appeared more akin to a barbarian of sorts. In fact, Cad realized that most of Liberty's men in the front lines did not appear to be people of Lenas. Rather, they were those from different parts of regions in Onturi. Even the lowest ranking knights from the Order of the Faith seemed further back.

  It made sense from a strategical perspective. Have the fodder in the front and the more skilled and important forces in the rear. It was despicable nonetheless. How Liberty managed to convince these people to die for him Cad did not know, but they opposed them. He could not spare the remorse as he cut them down.

  And cut them down he did. Cad slashed his way through the surging tides, his large, icy blade slicing through steel and flesh alike. Hordes of his enemies fell to his blade. Too many, in fact, for Cad soon realized that he was no longer backed by the faces of his own. He looked back to find that the two clashing sides were actually a few dozen feet away, and it was not long before he was beset on all sides as a host of Liberty's forces closed in on him like a lonely island surrounded by water.

  Around Cad were a handful of slain bodies—those who had perished by his hand. Soon, they would be joined by more. He raised his blade high, then plunged it into the ground. The enemy, dozens and dozens of sharp points and blunt weights bearing down on Cad, closed in. Their movements were right where he wanted them.

  “The frost bites, and the flesh succumbs,” whispered Cad as he looked down upon his entrenched blade. The nearby area around him shimmered as a wave of ice expanded across the grassy ground. Spikes of ice then formed rapidly under the feet of his enemies, forming upward like sharp stalagmites. The ice impaled everyone around Cad, and once again he was
alone on his lonely island of corpses.

  He reached for the hilt of his blade, and he looked about as his fingers wrapped around the frosty weapon. His gaze settled upon a most exciting sight: Liberty himself.

  Like Cad, Liberty's blade sung its tune as it sliced through the air. Like Cad, the blade struck down scores of warriors, though these were Arcadian soldiers. Like Cad, Liberty appeared to be an unstoppable force. Nothing could hit the leader of the Order of the Faith, steel or magic.

  Cad rushed forth, and as he neared, the two of them locked eyes. Neither smiled at the other or otherwise expressed any emotion as they moved in position, but Cad felt it. He knew Liberty felt it, too. Normally, the man to fall here would reveal the war's victor. The difference was that Liberty was outnumbered. If Cad fell, then there were still three others that led the charge. Liberty was the tether that, if severed, would lead to his army's collapse.

  And because Cad had the others to take his place, he did not have any reservations to bring about a raging blizzard upon his enemy.

  “You may have fended off the others from afar, but you will not be able to repel my blade so close to your heart,” Cad said to the lavishly-adorned man.

  Liberty brought his thin edge before him in a poised stance. “To think that you will have a different outcome is arrogant, Avanos Hildir. Let me free you from such ill-conceived thoughts.”

  Cad raised his arms high in the air, then brought down his huge blade upon Liberty's head—

  His enemy swiftly parried the blow, and in a flash Cad felt the tip of the blade pierce his flesh. Instinctively, Cad let go of his blade then created a barrier of frost in front of him as he leapt backward. He looked down in shock to find that his breastplate was indeed punctured where the blade had penetrated. Drops of crimson seeped out slowly, but the wound was not grievous. It would have been if Cad had not reactively withdrawn, that much was for certain.

  The wall shattered into a million pieces by Liberty's sword, and he stepped forth in Cad's direction. He then gestured at Cad's weapon, which was resting on the ground not too far from where Liberty stood. “Take your weapon, Avanos Hildir. Come at me again so that I may further show you the disparity between us.”

  To Cad's surprise, Liberty stepped out of the way and withdrew his blade for the time being. Cad dashed for his weapon, and he wheeled around at the ready as soon as he grasped the icy blade only to find Liberty in the same collected stance. Around them continued the raging battle, but it appeared as though forces from both sides were avoiding interfering.

  “Any ideas, Jaur?” Cad asked his elemental.

  “Perhaps not attacking head-on would be a good strategy,” remarked Jaur.

  Cad scoffed. “Can't attack from afar and can't touch him in close proximity? How ridiculous a claim.”

  And yet no matter how absurd that statement sounded, it appeared as though Liberty's ability transcended what was plausible and what was not. Cad had not even seen the blade pierce his flesh. No, he only reacted because he felt the edge already burying itself into his chest. Never had he come across a foe who moved that fast, and for the first time in his life he did not know how to proceed nor did he have any insight as to how this battle could end favorably.

  “Don't lose your wit now,” warned Jaur. “Not at a time like this.”

  “Bah, don't give me that garbage,” spat Cad, gripping the hilt of his blade just a bit tighter. He watched Liberty intently, expecting an advancement or offensive from his enemy, but none came. Liberty simply waited in patience for Cad to make a decision, a fact that irked him greatly.

  The shouts of his people were incessant, as was the waving banners of his home. He was not about to relent, not with all the Arcadians fighting alongside him. Only Ohrl'han had as of yet to engage with Liberty, though Cad was not sure if even the veri could land a blow.

  If neither Warren nor Wu could figure it out, then how could any of them? Ohrl'han was resourceful, but the combined intelligence of the two most well-versed elementalists was not enough to devise a plan or expose a weakness.

  Forgive me, for if this does not work…

  “What are you willing to do?” asked Jaur. “What are you willing to sacrifice?”

  Cad plunged his blade into the ground. Once more, a sheet of ice crawled out from the pierced ground toward his foe. Once underneath Liberty, the ice shot upward in a sharp spike—

  Liberty leapt high into the air, bringing his sword in front of him ready to parry the still rising ice.

  “Everything,” responded Cad as he gripped his weapon, then bent his knees and pushed off the ground. He soared into the air after Liberty, who was facing down at the oncoming attack. In unison Cad slashed at Liberty, both attacks reaching his foe at the same time—

  Cad first felt the shock in his hands from his parried blow, then a surging pain in his left arm near the shoulder as steel bit flesh. He landed hard as he hit the ground and rolled onto his feet. He looked down, realizing that he no longer had a left arm. Blood gushed out of his devastating wound, and he reached to put pressure on it with his remaining hand.

  Cad muttered a curse under his breath as he kneeled. “So that's it, eh?”

  Neither his elemental nor his enemy answered.

  In front of him stood Liberty with blade at the ready, though once again he waited for Cad to act first. Cad closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and gritting his teeth,

  My dearest Rin, I only did what I had to do. And now, I do what I must again. For you, and for Arcadia.

  Cad reached for the hilt of his blade and stood up. With only one hand, lifting his blade would be cumbersome. But lift it he did. He looked around him. He, along with the Arcadian knights near him, were the bastion holding Liberty’s horde back. It was up to Cad to hold the line for the other leaders to outmaneuver Liberty.

  With an ear-splitting war cry, Cad charged once more. He used the momentum of his sword for the power of his swing, and with one final attempt he slashed at Liberty.

  Cad felt steel biting his chest, this time drawing more than just a few drops of blood. He fell to his knees, and he looked down to see his chestplate split wide open, a deep gash in place of where his chest had been.

  He could do nothing but let go of his blade and spit out the blood filling his mouth. He looked up at Liberty’s face, the man’s condescending eyes looking upon Cad with contempt.

  “Don’t fear what happens next,” Liberty said. “Your liberation is but a moment away.”

  “Liberation?” scoffed Cad in between coughing fits.

  But Liberty did not say anything further, instead lifting his sword back to decapitate Cad—

  A font of flame bathed the area in front of Cad, and Liberty leapt backward as Ohrl'han's form came into view. The veri continued to lob bursts of flame at Liberty, though his attacks were also deflected.

  Cad felt movement behind him, and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt hands lifting him up rather than cutting him down. Faces of Arcadian soldiers came into view as he was hauled away from the battle along with his weapon.

  Ohrl'han continued to engage Liberty, though his movements were much more cautious than Cad's had been. Either the veri had watched the battle unfold, or he was not willing to give up an arm or a leg like Cad was.

  Ohrl'han's blade, a raging inferno of a weapon, was where the idea of the Sol sector originated from. Even Cad had been in awe at the release of the sword the first time that he had seen it in battle. At the initial onset, it was a flame that could not be abated by anything. Over time, the flame diminished ever so slowly until Ohrl'han had to cease and recharge regardless of will or his own status. His elemental was aptly named Phoenix.

  And so Cad watched his friend battle with Liberty until the two of them vanished from view, replaced by the corpses of men, women, and even some children. Other Arcadian knights who still drew breath charged into the fray.

  It was clear that they were holding the line against Liberty's forces, but Cad had the feeling
that they wouldn’t be able to do so much longer. The majority of Liberty's front line had been fodder, which meant that his main body still remained. A man with such influence did not rise with power alone. Liberty had an ace, and it was not just himself.

  No lone man could take on an Arcadia no matter how absurd his ability was, even if that man was the leader of the Order of the Faith.

  Chapter 8

  217th Dawn of the 5010th Age of Lion

  For me the sky has always been bleak

  Far away is what I seek

  And though I can only see its faintest light

  I continue to fight

  They thought me frail and weak

  I’m not even close to my peak

  Tossed aside, buried away

  From this path I will not stray

  Throw at me what you will

  Knock me down, but I won’t stay still

  Even down to my last breath

  I will resist death

  Gilbel sighed in frustration.

  These fools! I will be sure to tell Muut of this.

  He watched in absolute disbelief at the three demons who stood laughing at each other atop the ledge overlooking the black pools below. In brazen acts they singlehandedly killed the only access that they had to Ashkar, and by now Gilbel would not be able to reach that odd trinket held by the human if he wanted to.

  Satisfied, the demons turned to regard Gilbel with fiery eyes. They slowly approached him, and in turn he slowly took steps back. “What shall we do with you?”

  Gilbel raised both palms outward. “Now hold on, fellas. I'm sure that we can—”

  Three tendrils rose from behind the ledge, tendrils that appeared to be made of the black liquid below, impaling each of the demons through the chest. The demons cried out in anguish as their forms evaporated, and in a flash the tendrils disappeared from whence they came.

  Gilbel stood there with eyes wide and mouth agape.