Silent Requiem (Tales of Ashkar Book 3) Page 7

  “What’s this?” said the first demon. “Come back to meet your demise?”

  “Fellas, take it easy,” defended Gilbel with both hands in the air in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

  It didn’t work.

  “Something’s off here,” commented the second demon. “What sort of deception are you pulling, Gilbel?”

  The portly figure shook his head. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing!”

  The third demon looked at the ground past Gilbel and in Quinn’s direction.

  Quinn jerked back and removed himself from sight. Unfortunately, his vision of the demons was also sacrificed, and his eyes darted left-to-right in nervous contemplation. What if they found him? What could he do? Dozens of thoughts and futile plans ran through his head.

  “Are those tracks?” asked one of the demons, though Quinn did not know which. At this point, his mind was too chaotic to even recognize the voice. Instead, he diverted his thoughts to controlling his breathing and staying as invisible as he could.

  “I don’t know what you fellas are talki—hey, watch it!” exclaimed Gilbel, and Quinn felt movement headed his way.

  The human froze, holding his breath as much as he could without fainting. The sound of steps echoed louder and louder in his ears, louder than any sound that he had ever heard. To his right appeared a shadow that grew larger in conjunction with the approaching steps. As softly as he could, Quinn crawled to the other side of the stone, and doing his best to time his movements correctly, wrapped around as fiery eyes gazed at where he had been sitting just a moment ago.

  “A human was here,” announced one of the demons to the others.

  Where he now was, Quinn had a good view of where Gilbel stood. The demon was alone, which meant that all three of the demons were on the other side of the large rock. Gilbel caught sight of Quinn, and made several gestures that told him to make a break for it. At least, that’s what frantically waving in the air and making wide-eyed expressions said to Quinn.

  Quinn crawled a little further up, and peeking his head to the left, saw the backs of the demons making their way around. He looked down, closed his eyes, and steeled himself.

  One… two… three!

  Jumping into a sprint, Quinn kicked off as hard as he could and bolted in the direction of Gilbel. He heard a commotion behind him, but at this point he couldn’t afford to look back and slow himself down.

  But he was slow. This place called Hell burdened his body more than Ashkar, and he struggled to make ground. He covered a dozen feet when he should have covered three. Still he ran, flying past Gilbel and continuing as fast as he could. He didn’t even know if he could outrun a demon, but it seemed like his only choice. A few seconds passed, and it seemed like he would actually be able to escape—

  “Quinn, look out!” shouted Gilbel from behind.

  Quinn whipped around and brought his arm up to his face just in time for a shadowy miasma to engulf the sleeve of his cloak near his forearm. Instantly he felt a burning sensation as the energy disintegrated first the cloth and then started on his flesh. Searing pain shot up through his arm. He looked at what was happening, but immediately regretted it.

  Gone was the flesh on his forearm at the area where the attack first struck. The consuming energy continued, making its way both up his arm and down toward his hand. He watched in horror as his bones were exposed, but even they did not last long as the energy ate away not only at his flesh but also his skeleton. It reached all the way up to his upper-arm before he heard Gilbel shout something foreign and the disintegration ceased, the consuming shadow dissipating into thin air.

  The attack had eaten away at the entire sleeve of his right arm, and the flesh of his upper-arm and shoulder that had not been destroyed was now subjected to the searing heat of Hell. Quinn cried out in pain. So excruciating was it that he had barely noticed the collection of figures slowly making their way over to him.

  “How does it feel, human?” asked the larger demon, clearly garnering satisfaction from Quinn’s torment.

  With his left, Quinn tugged at his cloak in a vain attempt to cover his exposed flesh. He kneeled in pain, looking up at the demon and grimacing. The pain was so great that he nearly collapsed in unconsciousness, but willed himself to stay awake. His breathing was ragged. He knew not what to do except stare at the monsters before him.

  “You think that you can just waltz into our realm?” scathed the shadowy entity.

  Quinn chose not to respond, instead taking note of his position. His back was near the edge of one of the cliffs overlooking the deep chasm. The larger demon was directly in front of him, while the other two were to his right and left. Together, they blocked off any direction that might offer Quinn an escape.

  “Without words in your final moments?” continued the demon, “or is the pain just too much for you?”

  Quinn looked up at the demon with just-as-fiery eyes. “How about you just go die in a fire, you babbling bastard. I hope that you get ripped inside—”

  He felt a foot collide with his chest. The force knocked him back and he staggered to find his footing. The hood of his cloak fell back slightly, exposing the right side of his face to the scalding heat. Once again, Quinn cried in pain as he reached up to pull the hood. He now stood on the precipice of the cliff. Just a foot away was a several-dozen foot drop and a dark abyss waiting to consume another unfortunate soul.

  Quinn looked up just in time to watch that same foot push him off the edge. His gaze never left the demon even on his descent, perpetually fixated on the one who was responsible for his demise. That shadowy face laughed at him as he plunged into darkness. Immediately he felt the black liquid engulf him, and he sunk further and further down.

  He did not think of his impending death. Even as the ooze entered his lungs and he began to drown, he did not think of his expiring life. His life flashed before his eyes, just like they said that it would before reaching the end. They said that it was a melancholic occurrence where one reflected on his existence. That part was true. He saw his very first memories. Thousands of images appeared, mostly the faces of those who looked down upon him.

  Was this my life? To fail at every turn?

  His mind settled on one image as he felt his life slip away. It was the image of the demon mocking him as he plummeted. It was burned into his mind, and he concentrated on it. The way that the demon’s face contorted as he took pleasure in Quinn’s demise. The way that he must have thought proudly of himself for eradicating Quinn like someone would feel when removing trash that had festered too long. His blood began to boil.

  I can’t accept this. I won’t accept this.

  Chapter 6

  217th Dawn of the 5010th Age of Lion

  Earth trembles as two tides meet

  Colliding together as war drums beat

  What started as a white lie

  Has gorged itself and will darken the sky

  The clouds will be silent as dead voices cry

  Mothers will weep as arrows fly

  The one who will claim his seat

  Is the last one to have a heartbeat

  Graeme watched the tranquil waters that would soon be turned red with blood, filled with lifeless bodies and the wooden remnants of ships torn asunder. Around him, thousands upon thousands of men and women mobilized to initiate the defense.

  The Grand Arcanist was minutes away from joining them also, for his formidable powers as an elementalist would prove useful in thinning Liberty’s forces before they had a chance to even make landfall on Arcadia. He stood about a hundred feet further inland, and next to him were both Wu and Guy, among other ranking officers.

  To everyone’s surprise, Guy had just announced that Liberty was actually in the forefront of the fleet, a choice that had more than one person scratching their heads. If Cad had been around to hear it, he might have swum out there himself to attack.

  Guy, who seemed adamant about taking out Liberty before he even reached the shores, had just mutte
red the incantation to release his weapon and was preparing to attack. His normal bow of wood and string—while elegantly crafted—would be considered crude compared to its true form. The weapon was much longer, and the body was white with several carved lines that were long and curved, like how one would depict the blowing of wind. The tips were similarly curved, continuously curling until they folded upon themselves. The string was replaced with condensed wind that came together to form a substitute.

  “Be careful, Guy,” advised Graeme. “I understand your sentiments. I want to spare as much bloodshed as possible, but I ask that you not get carried away and exert yourself much farther than your body can handle. The element of air can be one of the most harmful to the user.”

  “I’ll be fine,” answered Guy, his attention still fixed on the encroaching fleet. “I will only need one shot, but thank you.”

  I hope that it only takes one shot.

  Without another word, Guy took a deep breath and pulled the airy string taught. A swirl of air condensed into the form of an arrow. At first, it was the size that a wooden one would normally be, but the longer Guy held the larger it became. So large, in fact, that Graeme thought the bowman intended to pierce the sun.

  “So you’ve improved your skills to the point where you can hit a target from this far with your Thousand-Piercing Arrow?” asked Wu, though Graeme knew that his friend did not actually expect an answer. No, Guy was much too focused to even open his mouth. Beads of sweat rolled down the archer’s pale face.

  Thousand-Piercing Arrow…

  The War of Arcadia saw Arcadia fall prey to the dommogin forces from the west. Men and women like Guy stood defiantly to defend their homeland, but Arcadia was only a continent back then. There was no proud nation of today, just pockets of peoples of different cultures.

  The dommogin that made landfall were fierce and brutal in their warfare, and so brave men and women like Guy could not allow to hold back. Guy’s marksmanship had earned his windy abilities the Thousand-Piercing Arrow, for that was the death count from just one attack. That was Guy in his earlier years, when Graeme only recently met the Master Ranger.

  Indeed, Guy had come a long way since they all had first met. They all had, and now, Guy could not afford to let his people down. He might have even reached the second stage of release, but Graeme did not know for certain.

  Graeme had yet to see an attack of this magnitude from the archer, and hope filled him. If it proved successful, then they had a chance to avert total war. The large arrow swelled and swelled until it reached the length of a small tree and the width of broadsword. He held it steady, taking a few moments to aim at the largest of the vessels. It would only be a few minutes now before it was close enough for landfall, and they no longer required the use of a telescope to view the hundreds of ships closing in.

  “You waited too long,” chided Wu, and Graeme saw what his friend meant.

  Another of Liberty’s ships was now in between the flagship and where the leaders of Arcadia stood. Either Guy’s attack had been scouted, or it was just a case of misfortunate timing.

  But Guy made no attempt to slow down or hold back. He continued channeling his power into the ever-growing arrow, and despite the fact that there was no indication of the ship’s trading places, unleashed the attack when it was at full-force.

  The sound of a sharp wind blowing pierced the air as Guy let go of the string, and the windy arrow shot out with unimaginable speed toward the two ships. The devastating attacked reached the bow of the first one, shattering the entire ship into a million pieces. The men and women on the first ship could do nothing as they were thrown into the water by forces of wind.

  “Where is the flagship?” Wu asked. “Did you hit it as well?”

  Through the floating remnants of the first ship sailed Liberty’s unhindered, nary a scratch anywhere to be seen as if nothing had even touched it.

  “Damn it, you missed,” Wu said.

  “No, I didn’t,” blurted Guy in disbelief. He looked at Graeme and the others for just a moment before setting down his weapon and reaching for his telescope. The archer lifted it to his eye and took a peek.

  “What do you see?” asked Graeme.

  “It’s Liberty,” answered Guy. He was breathing heavily, winded from pouring his all into the attack. “His blade is unsheathed. It had to have been him. Did your informant tell you anything about Liberty’s abilities?”

  Graeme shook his head. “I’m afraid that he didn’t. Not many people have even seen Liberty fight.” He looked over at Wu, who returned with a slow nod. They both knew what they had to do. It filled Graeme with sorrow, but there was no escaping it. Wu’s eyes were not as somber, but Graeme did not blame him. War was not for the soft, though prior to Guy’s attack Graeme had hope that the cycle did not have to repeat itself. That hope was now shattered, and once more he realized deep down that there would be no escaping the coming bloodshed.

  “Let us end this, Samsara,” Graeme told his elemental.

  “Yes, let us,” agreed Samsara.

  Graeme looked at both Guy and Wu and nodded to each, then looked onward at the beach.

  “I’ll send the order,” said Guy as he motioned for a few of the officers to follow him toward the bulk of the forces nearer to the water. The forces had held off so that the Master Ranger could make his attempt, but it was time for Arcadia to show the Order of the Faith that they had made a grave mistake.

  The two veteran elementalists now stood side-by-side, gazing at the oncoming ships together.

  “Shall we?” asked Wu.

  Graeme nodded, reaching into his pocket for his source of power. He withdrew the ring and slipped it onto his right thumb, then made a circle in the air with the same finger. “The infinite cycle, Samsara!”

  The ring transformed into a bright white light that shot out to eight other fingers, all coalescing into rings that were inscribed with elemental runes. Each were a different color representing a school of magic: red, dark blue, light blue, dark gray, light gray, yellow, brown, and white.

  “Mold into form, Kaji!” exclaimed Wu as he held up his wand, and his weapon disseminated into the air into a white, malleable substance that floated in the air next to him. It always reminded Graeme of clay or wet sand that could take the shape of anything that the manipulator wished.

  Graeme gazed over the vast body of water that was the Vical Ocean. He concentrated on it. He concentrated on the rolling waves and the flow of water. He then tapped his thumb, the one with the original ring, against the ring of his middle finger of his right hand, the one that was light blue in color and the ring on his right ring finger, which was white. Instantly, he felt the surging power wash over him, and waving his arms up, the waters began to crest tumultuously and the clouds darken.

  Wu did similarly, grabbing a piece of the white source of his power and concentrating on it. It turned a light blue, matching Graeme’s ring. Wu threw it into the air, and it scattered into the wind. He then took another piece, and again he concentrated. It remained white, even when he threw it like the first one. Finally, he joined with Graeme, and together, they willed the oceans and the skies to roar.

  Powerful winds whipped while the previously tranquil waters violently shook into a monsoon. Graeme focused his efforts at the fleet, and the raging storm followed his command. It struck dozens and dozens of ships in fury, the crashing tidal waves shattering the hulls of ships while the powerful gusts shredded sails and toppled masts. Such was the power of the storm that more than a handful of the vessels already lay in ruin.

  Graeme lamented the lives that he was taking, but he did what had to be done and did not receive any satisfaction for it. Beads of sweat rolled down his face and off his chin, and he felt weaker. The storm was powerful, and summoning the elements on that level took a much harder toll than simply slinging a fireball or two. Neither of them would be able to hold the storm much longer, and Graeme watched as the rings on his middle and ring finger dimmed in brightnes
s.

  While able to utilize the eight elements, Graeme’s powers came at a second cost: he could only manipulate a particular element once, and he had to cycle through all eight before he could use the others. He would not be able to summon wind nor move water until he first manipulated the remaining six elements.

  Wu, on the other hand, did not have such limits. The Grand Master Magus could use any element as many times in succession as he wanted, so long as he didn’t run out of the special substance to mold. His limit was that the moldable power required time to regenerate, and if he were to utilize it faster than it could do so then he would find himself in a rut waiting to use any sort of magic.

  Even with those limitations, it made no matter if they overexerted. Even elementalists of their caliber had to be careful, for each element was unique in how it taxed the elementalist. In this case, Graeme was already thirsty enough to drink an entire lake and sit down for a while.

  Air element was not simply about directing the wind that already blew. It utilized the oxygen within all oxygenated cells in the body. It only took a portion, for the body could not function without oxygenated blood circulating through and providing oxygen to all of the cells, tissues, and organs that needed it.

  However, that portion was enough to cause the heart to pump harder to ensure that adequate oxygen is received throughout the body. As such, the lungs worked harder, which meant respiration increased. Using air element was akin to a bout of exercise such as running for a long distance, and the body needed to rest if the rate of energy expenditure reached a certain threshold. Some unwitting air elementalists had suffered from severe heart conditions as a result of overuse, and had lost their lives in the process. Such a phenomenon was termed deoxygenation.

  “He’s managed to slip through,” commented Wu, and it took Graeme a moment to realize what the other elementalist meant.