Chapter 18 - Fury

How fleeting life is.

Like a blade of grass floating in the wind, borne by the capricious whims of fate.

In the end, they would all either wither away, or burn.

Wither away, because that is what time and circumstance wills.

Burn because I will be the fire, to scorch this rotten world to the ground.

A savage howl roared into being within Skyle’s mind, and a vast void opened its maw to swallow all conscious thought, leaving only the most basic and primal of instincts behind.

Fury.

With a hand that was shaking, not from terror, but rather fury, Skyle lifted Moonshadow high over his shoulder, his arm held out straight as his other hand drew an arrow from the quiver on his back and nocked it on the string in one smooth, graceful motion.

“Skyle?” Leon called out from behind.

Ignoring the call, Skyle took a deep breath and his gaze instantly traversed hundreds of feet. In his mind’s eye, objects seemed to suddenly zip past him as his gaze narrowed down on a singular target far, far away from him.

Taking a single moment to fix the position of his target firmly in his mind, Skyle released the breath he had been holding while drawing the bowstring all the way back until it touched his cheek. He held it there for just a fraction of a second, long enough that he felt the cold kiss of the string against his lips.

Then his lungs stopped, and at the same instant his heart also skipped a beat. It was in this brief pause between one beat of his heart and the next that his fingers relaxed their firm hold and the bowstring became a blur.

A loud twang that was practically a physical slap against the air echoed loudly in the night, the vibrations still spreading in an almost tangible ripple. Blood splattered in the air from a wound in Skyle’s wrist where the bowstring had cut into flesh after rebounding from the shot, but he seemed not to notice as his eyes seemed to be firmly fixed upon a target far in the distance.

Leon reflexively tried to follow the trajectory of the arrow as it leapt off the bow, but immediately realized it was futile as the arrow had instantly vanished, a mere shadow that had accelerated into a near invisible streak of light.

Leon looked back to Skyle and was stupefied to find the boy already fitting another arrow onto the bow. Frowning as he noticed a few drops of blood sliding down the bowstring, Leon hissed in shock as he saw that Skyle’s fingertips were torn and bleeding where he was pulling back the string.

Still, Skyle’s expression was one of coldly burning wrath as he froze for just a single moment, arrow pointed high into the sky, before loosing the arrow with another humming twang.

Another spray of blood flew into the air as the bowstring cut a deeper wound into Skyle’s arm, but Leon again found his gaze turning to try and follow the newly released arrow’s path.

By the time he again realized trying to spot this arrow was just as futile as with the arrow that had preceded it, Skyle had already reached his hand back over his shoulder towards the next arrow.

Leon immediately leapt forward and this time managed to catch hold of Skyle’s wrist before the boy could fit another arrow on the string.

“Skyle, stop!” Leon hissed urgently.

Skyle slowly turned his head over his shoulder, regarding Leon with eyes that burned with a frost-covered fury that sent shivers down the bigger boy’s spine.

Leon had fought many battles, and faced many terrifying opponents, but the light in Skyle’s eyes belong to no human. Instead, they were the eyes of a feral beast stalking its prey, on the cusp of pouncing from its perch in order to sate its thirst for blood.

“Skyle! Snap out of it! We need to go!” Leon shook Skyle’s arm, sending a few drops of blood sailing through the air.

“They must pay,” Skyle said in a cold, mechanical voice that nonetheless seemed to bring with it the promise of winter.

“They will, but not today. Not when our lives are the price!” Leon nearly shouted in his face, urgency twisting his face. “We need to go. Now!”

Skyle stared back at Leon calmly for a long moment, but just as Leon began to wonder whether he should try his chances at knocking Skyle unconscious in order to haul him away, Skyle finally relented, slowly lowering his bow.

Just as Leon was exhaling a slow sigh of relief, a sudden clamor rose from the middle of the camp. Without even bothering to turn his head, Leon grasped the rope and jumped off the wall.

Skyle turned his head to look towards the camp one last time, before gripping the rope Leon had flung over the wall and leaping off into the darkness beyond. In his eyes there was a dark promise, and slung across his back was its grim fulfillment.

***

The first arrow struck like a lightning bolt, smoothly punching through the thick bone of the skull of the dark robed man who had just beheaded another victim. The impact jerked this man’s head to the side, loudly cracking his neck and twisting it in a gruesome fashion. The arrow didn’t stop there, but instead penetrated through the top of his cranium all the way until stopped by the fletchings. On the other side, the bloodied arrowhead glinted dully with wet blood as it stuck out from below the impaled man’s jaw.

The dark ritual suddenly stopped as every set of eyes stared at the man who had been struck by the arrow. He swayed drunkenly on his feet for a moment, before coughing out a spray of blood and slowly toppling to one side, face first.

Before the man had even hit the ground, however, a second arrow fell from the sky, unerringly striking its own target. The arrowhead impacted with a solid bone wrenching sound as it pierced through another dark robed man’s forehead as easily as though it were paper.

The man’s eyes didn’t even have time to fully register his surprise as he was bodily lifted off his feet by the impact. As though he had been struck by the hammer of the gods, the awesome blow loudly wrenched his head backwards, and his entire body followed suit. He slammed back into the ground with a bone-popping crash. He twitched spastically a couple times, then finally lay still in the midst of a swiftly spreading pool of his own blood.

All the dark robed men lay completely still, looking on with uncomprehending gazes at the two dead men who had been struck down from their midst in the blink of an eye, one after the other. No sound could be heard except for the muffled, desperate struggles of the next sacrificial victims still hanging from their bindings over the cauldron.

Finally, after the initial moment of shock had passed and reality finally registered in the minds of these stupefied men, one of them stepped forward and motion the rest of the men back. His gaze was fixedly staring at the giant cauldron as the bubbling liquid within continued to sizzle and steam, forming a purple cloud that hung like a sickening miasma over the congregated crowd.

The man who had stepped forward raised his hands and began to chant words in a slow, rumbling staccato, punctuated by glowing sigils that were traced into the air by his nimble fingers. More voices soon joined the first man’s, uttering the same chant, and more sigils soon joined the first man’s to form a wide circle of light around the cauldron. The purple cloud began to solidify even further as the contents of the cauldron quickly evaporated into mist.

With a final rumbling shout, a shocking sound like the roar of a terrible beast rang out from the midst of the cloud, and the entire mist slowly began to take the shape of a reptilian head. The dark robed men all fell to their knees except for the first man who had stepped out to take the lead. His arms were shaking and his face was bathed in sweat as he made a final, grand sweeping gesture emcompassing the cloud overhead, then finished his chant with a loud shout as he pointed in the direction of the rifts.

The mist that had vaguely come to take the shape of a dragon’s head roared loudly once again, then soared through the air in the direction of the rifts, where a man wearing an impressive slate grey suit of armor currently knelt on the ground. Both his gauntleted hands were clutching a sword that had been driven into the ground as the man panted harshly. His lips were bloodied, as was his whole body. Minute cracks could be seen running down his breastplate as well, and one of the bracers on his arms had a deep crack where fragments of bone could be seen.

This man was Lord Commander Vissus, whose expression was a mask of grim determination as he glared at the great beast that continued its vicious assault from the other side of the rift. The beast itself was hardly in better shape than the commander, as it had sustained harrowing wounds in its stubborn assault of the rift’s defenses.

As Vissus shifted his feet minutely, the cracking sounds of shattered blood crystal shards reverberated in his ears. He had been forced to consume two more blood crystals in order to battle against this beast, and still it looked as though the beast would not relent its onslaught.

The beast glared its bloodshot eyes at Vissus, and though its blood covered visage was twisted by rage and hatred, undeniable intelligence gleamed deep within those twin orbs of fire. Even in the midst of this brutal battle, those eyes had continuously been roving about, as though desperately searching for something.

It was only now, when both beast and Commander Vissus had taken a momentary step back to gather their strength before another reckless assault, that those eyes briefly paused while looking towards the east.

“That’s where the sacrificial grounds are,” Vissus reflected, as he turned his gaze to follow the beast’s, and saw the approaching mass of purple mist.

“Finally, the sacrificial ritual is ready. Such a waste of blood essence, but this beast must be stopped before it crosses the rift, else years of hard work and untold thousands of lives sacrificed may come to naught.”

Vissus firmly determined that he could not allow such an outcome to pass, and with a ssoft grunt drew forth his sword from the deep scar in the ground where he’d rested it. His eyes moved from the approaching cloud to meet the gaze of the beast crouching beyond the rift’s boundary.

For one instant, Vissus matched gazes with the beast, and beyond the simple veneer of savage fury visible from the surface, he was once again shocked by the intelligence and cunning he detected in its depths.

“After all, it was able to find and activate one of the inert rifts that we had not even empowered yet. How did it manage in a couple hours what it takes a whole team of rift mages weeks to accomplish?”

Vissus slowly lifted his sword before his chest, his gaze not leaving the beast as he braced himself for what was coming next.

“Hundreds of lives that were meant to open the way for The Advent, and now they’ve been wasted, poured into the dust because of you.”

The great cloud of purple mist seemed to open its great maw as it swooped down from the skies and swallowed Vissus whole, suddenly enveloping his figure. From within the mist, red and purple arcs of lightning could be seen crackling in dozens of directions, and a great roaring explosion boomed into the air. Dust billowed from the impact zone, and dozens of soldiers maintaining the perimeter were blown away by the blast.

The mist slowly cleared away, drifting away as though borne by an invisible hand. In its wake, Vissus stood like a blood-soaked demon, whole aura emanating a vicious atmosphere. Whereas before his whole figure had looked worn and haggard from the battle, it was now bursting at the seams with barely suppressed power.

The beast’s eyes suddenly stilled as it watched the transformation unfolding before it. Then, with a rather dismissive shake of its head, it turned around and slowly drifted back towards the depths of the rift.

Lord Commander Vissus grit his teeth and the hands gripping his sword trembled with barely suppressed fury, but he did not move to give chase or further retaliate against the beast. He knew full well the price for using the blood magic directly, and the only thing he could do was attempt to recoup his losses.

The beast’s massive figure slowly faded away from his vision as the rift finally winked out of existence, but Lord Vissus did not miss the final glance his opponent had thrown over its shoulder right before the rift collapsed completely.

Vissus slowly turned his head to look in the direction of that gaze.

“Report,” Vissus grated out through clenched teeth. The losses for his side this time had been disastrous. The Advent would have to be pushed back by several days, perhaps even weeks. His own body would need an extravagant amount of resources to recover. At least the rifts’ energy had been worn thin, almost to the point of collapse. The beast would not be able to launch another assault for a long time. Still, victory had come at too steep a price, and Vissus could only swallow a bitter aftertaste as he spat out his orders. “Immediately send a team to investigate the eastern quarter and the sacrificial grounds. I want to know exactly what happened.”

“Lord Commander? The blood sacrifice was a success, what could have happ-”

His subordinate’s reply was cut off short of Vissus’ frosty glare.

“Yes, my lord! As you wish!”

The Lord Commander’s body suddenly froze as his hands reached towards his chest. There, he could still feel the silhouette of the object he’d carefully placed under his breastplace, carefully wrapped in cloth. As he felt the contours of the dagger, his eyes drifted back in the direction of the cages.

“Oh, and bring me that boy we captured earlier,” Vissus added slowly.

“But my lord, your injuries must first be properly-”

Vissus waved a dismissive hand. “Summon the healers to my own command tent, and bring the boy. Now.”

As his men rushed off to comply, Vissus couldn’t help but feel a shadow hanging ominously over him. Such a feeling confused him, as Vissus was a methodical man who would do anything to accomplish his mission and disregard all else. Especially his current mission, given that it was a most secretive and extremely vital task for the sake of the future of his own clan, even his whole world.

“The Advent must take place, and soon. Nothing will stop us.”

Vissus glanced up towards the skies that seemed to churn and roil in his eyes, a perpetual reminder that they were the intruders in this accursed land. Already, thousands of his men had poured their own lifeblood to defend this tiny foothold in this wretched realm. All for the sake of accomplishing their mission.

Lord Commander Vissus knew that even if every single one of his men were to perish to the last of them, it would still be well worth it if only they could finally accomplish their mission. Recalling the importance of their task, his fingers unconsciously tightened into a fist as his gaze became filled with iron determination once more.

“Nothing.”