Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 9

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Here is the first chapter of the last of Arc 1. I decided that Arc 1 will end in two more chapters as I finally was able to get the story to go in a direction I wanted it to.

Truthfully, the last three chapters are basically one long chapter. But, as you guys wanted the chapter earlier, this chapter ends in a cliff-hanger. Sorry guys!

Also, Ark 2 will get super dark so it will be a lot of fun to read.

If you guys could review my story, that would be great!

http://www.royalroadl.com/fiction/1666

Thanks!

February 17, 29 R.E.

In a modest show of haste, the Ventros Race began their exodus from the place they had called home for well over five-centuries. With a long-lost brother at their head, they marched, solemn and spite-filled away from everything they knew.

It was all due to the Ventros from the west. He was to blame. Rajac, he was called. Many muttered vile curses in his direction as he walked past speaking only with Temos; the only member of the Sanctuary who was civil towards him.

His ways were not their own. He was a barbarian among the civilized. ‘Look at that’ one Ventros would call to another. ‘The foreigner shakes with his hand! Is he trying to give us his diseases?’

Many threw disgusted looks at Rajac as he passed after that but he paid them no mind. In his view, the Ventros were no better than lost puppies; those who were beaten enough would strike at anything and everything.

He sighed as he walked beside Temos as they moved, in-mass, to the location Rajac and Alberon had set up almost a week prior. Alberon, of course, had been incorrigibly entertained by the idea of transporting eight-thousand Ventros out from under the nose of a Demi-God.

However…Rajac ground his teeth in frustration. There was a problem. A gigantic cluster-fuck of one. Alberon only had enough strength to transport one-hundred people at a time. In Alberon’s own estimation, it would take one-to-two hours to transport everyone.

Lord Gaya, the benevolent ass-clown that he is, stationed all his soldiers on the borders of his province rather than police it like the ‘benevolent’ ruler he claims to be. The Council, another bunch of ass-clowns in Rajac’s opinion, besides Temos that was, claimed it was because Gaya had no wish to allow any of the Greater or Epic Races to leave the province as they were his only source of entertainment. Apparently, because Gaya was rather weak in the terms of Gods, he did not have the strength to step outside of his territory. Thus, to pass the time, he used the mortal races as a source of entertainment. And who would want their toys to suddenly get up and leave?

Rajac thought this way of thinking ridiculous but it was all he had to go on. Gaya was a mystery to him and the Council, for all their faults, had spent centuries living in his presence. But for a Demi-God to act so…childish? It was a bizarre idea.

But all the facts led to that single conclusion. Why else would the Commander have ordered Rajac’s capture, why had he seen no soldiers anywhere within the province, and how did the Ventros stay hidden all these years if not for the absence of soldiers. It would have been rather easy for Gaya to order a hundred men to scour the forest where they were rumored to be hidden and destroy the whole race in one fell swoop.

But, it appeared Gaya was more interested in keeping his ‘toys’ within the province than actually governing it. And while it helped the Ventros avoid detection, it had now become a huge obstacle the Ventros migrants would have to overcome.

Truthfully, Rajac and Temos, who had been discussing the subject endlessly, had few ideas how to deal with the soldiers. The problem, as they saw it, was that the Ventros civilians would be left in the open as Alberon transported them.

There was little doubt soldiers would find them as outposts were littered throughout the countryside; however, there would be no more than twenty to a unit though the Squad Leader was usually a Godly Base Race which was on par with a Greater Race but with a few added perks.

The soldiers would no doubt attack the Ventros civilians as soon as they saw them, messaging for backup as they did so. Gaya’s soldiers weren’t too bright as Gaya valued loyalty over intelligence. Thus, it was likely the soldiers, numbering only twenty, would attack the eight-thousand Ventros before backup arrived.

This would, undoubtedly, inflict high-casualties among the populace as Alberon attempted to transport all of them. Something, Rajac and Temos had been attempting to avoid all day but they saw no way to do so.

If Rajac, Temos, and his men, attempted to intervene, then it was likely a few of them would die in the process. This would be disastrous as the next unit of soldiers was only half-an-hour’s run away. Going by Alberon’s time, the Ventros would have to face two to four units of soldiers before the end of the day.

If the ‘warriors’ fought against the first group, it was likely the warriors losses would increase exponentially until none were left by the end of the day. This would be disastrous for the Ventros’ long-term chances as a race without warriors was no better than fresh meat for any who wanted to conquer them.

And so, Rajac, Temos, and his men became more depressed as they day wore on as they approached their destination. They lamented the decision they had to make even as the people cursed their names. Rajac was insulted the worst as many saw this as his idea. The rest of the Council included.

Many knew they would die this day and blamed it all on him. Rajac, himself, thought they had some merit to their claims as he walked silently next to Temos. If he had not come to their forest, they would still be living there. True, it would be in hiding but they would all still be alive.

After today, well, it would be likely his name would be tarnished with these people forever. But, if that is what it took to save them and his future, he was willing to pay the price.

The front of the line bowed outwards as the destination came into sight. Like much of the land within Abria, their destination was percolated with hills and surrounded by a large, dense forest on either side.

Rajac and Temos hurried to the front of the migrants as they looked for Alberon in their midst. He was just in the center of the clearing talking to the other members of the Council. Craggy Halworn Ishan, his cousin Benedict Ishan who carried a similar disposition, Geria Talworn, and Kalfor Manos.

As Rajac and Temos approached, all four faded into the masses with incredible skill. Alberon walked up to Rajac. With a grin on his face, he said, “It appears you are not well like here.” Rajac gave a small, controlled smile back. “It is as it seems. It has been a long time Alberon.”

“Ha. Indeed, it has. You’ve been busy while you were away.” “True.” Raising a hand to Temos, Rajac said, “This here is Temos Manos. Leader of the Ventros warriors and the fifth member of the Council.”

“Ah.” Alberon said in recognition. “I’ve heard of you. The other members of the Council have been griping about your decision to slaughter your people like cattle.”

Temos grimaced, his usually gregarious nature, turning sour. “They never learn when to be silent.” He muttered. Speaking louder, he said, “I thought of the future while they care too much about the present. If all of our warriors die here, who would protect their cowards’ hide in the future?”

“That is indeed the best possible course. The Western Territories are no picnic to live in though Cera Mountain is as safe as you can get.” Alberon said, contemplative.

Just then, one of Temos’ students ran up to him, out of breath. “Master!” He called out. “Yaka has seen the patrol unit approaching!”

“Alberon!” Rajac barked. His voice was as taught as a bow-string. “Begin the transportation. Start with the children. Leave the elderly for last.” Alberon hesitated at that last order before nodding and heading off to gather the children.

“You will leave the elderly to their deaths?” Temos growled as they ran through the panicked masses who were reading weapons made out of whatever they had carried with them. “They will be of great use in the last stages of this battle.”

Rajac had already thought on this greatly; however, he had not shared his views with Temos until now. He was sure Temos would have rejected the idea out of hand, disregarding its logical application. If the warriors only aided the civilians during the last stages of the battle as planned,

then the warriors would be the last group to leave; this would almost certainly spell the deaths of the whole group.

Transportation requires an individual or group to stay completely still as they are transported as to not disrupt data streams. If the warriors had to fight the fourth group of soldiers while being transported, they would undoubtedly die either through a sword through the gut or the corruption of the data stream.

The elderly were the perfect obstacle. Well, not perfect but suitable to the purpose Rajac would require of them. They would, of course, have to agree to what Rajac planned. If they did not, who would protect the Ventros in the future after they had long passed into the afterlife? With no warriors and their knowledge lost forever, the elderly would all but be condemning the Ventros to an early extinction.

Temos ground his teeth, his jaw working but he said nothing. There was nothing to say. In a battle, decisions had to be made. If they lived through this, then, and only then, could blame be tossed around like a well-used matron?

Rajac saw the soldiers now. They were running full pelt at the curved and unsteady line of Ventros civilians who had raised weapons above their shaking knees. At this distance, Rajac could not definitively see who led the soldiers that were now plowing into the civilians like they were made of butter but he thought he saw the Squad Leader in their midst.

He had refined humanoid features with long, flowing black hair. But, it did not matter in the end what he looked like. His twenty men crashed into the eight-thousand civilians with all the gusto of the foolhardy. Men and women flew through the air with bent and broken bodies at their charge; however, even as their massacre began, it ended.

Their charge which was so ferocious that it cleaved a pathway straight into the civilians center, ground to an immediate halt as they met Temos’ students who were the last line of defense. The four of them impeded the progress of the soldiers just enough for the civilians to regain their footing and begin to bludgeon the soldiers to their deaths.

It was a nasty business. Even as Temos and Rajac arrived on the scene, a few citizens were continuing to beat at the crushed skull of the Squad Leader. His long, black hair was matted with a fine misting of brain as blood squirted into the air, every so often, as one of the more maniacal civilians thrust as make-shift weapon into the dead man’s, for he was a man, skull.

Over the next half-an-hour, Alberon was able to send through a little less than three-thousand of the civilians including the Council. Five-thousand defenders met the second wave of soldiers who were a little more cautions than their predecessors.

This time, the soldiers broke off in two waves as they attempted to box in the civilians while they waited for the third grouping of soldiers. However, with Temos commanding, the civilians attacked the soldiers head on. The civilians’ losses were staggering. For every soldier they brought down, the civilians lost twenty men.

But, the civilians were desperate. An undulating cry rose from them every time they killed a soldier. Their losses meant nothing as long as they could leave their centuries forced imprisonment.

Rajac continued to wait patiently, separated from the citizens. By Alberon’s pace, the third grouping would be the last. He watched Temos lead the citizens in decapitating the second grouping’s Squad Leader. With an ear-splitting grin, Temos raised the head into the air as the civilians gave him a hero’s ovation.

Rajac chuckled to himself as he watched Temos. The man could not help himself. Even as he commanded Rajac and his own men to stay put, he went out to lead the civilians in their charge. Well, it wasn’t like he had much choice, Rajac thought. With the Council deciding to be transported early, he was the only leader left the Ventros had to look to.

Another half-an-hour passed quickly. Just as the third grouping of soldiers broke through the trees, Alberon had been able to transport all but two-thousand of the Ventros. Nine-hundred of those were warriors and elderly.

Overall, the Ventros had lost five-hundred civilians already in the days fighting. One warrior perished in the second charge when he defied Temos’ orders and attempted to fight a soldier one-on-one and lost.

Rajac walked up to Temos who was sweating from his day’s exertion. “Don’t give me that.” Temos said gruffly as Rajac frowned, disapproving of Temos’ disregard of the entire plan.

“If you just followed the plan…” Rajac said anyways. He was never allowed to finish as a great bellow rose from the forest’s edge. “MORTAL RACE, I HAVE A SIGNED EDICT FROM THE LORD ADVISING YOU OF YOUR CRIMES AND PRE-DETERMINED DEATH! COME AND MEET MY AXE!”

Fear ran through the remaining civilians. ‘Did he say mortal race?’ ‘Is he a God’ ‘Is he Lord Gaya’ ‘We’re all going to die!’

There was a mass stampede towards where Alberon was transporting the civilians. Rajac, Temos, and the warriors ignored them for now. Alberon could handle the civilians. Though, Rajac thought he might have some trouble ignoring the elderly all-together.

Shaking his head, Rajac put it out of his mind. He needed to focus on the fight at hand. “Do we go forward or wait here for him?” Rajac asked Temos. After a moment, Temos said, “Go forward.”

Temos looked back at the civilians who were being shouted at by a red-faced Alberon. “Having the fight so close will only allow chaos to fester behind our backs.”

With a nod of agreement, Rajac followed Temos and his men forward to do battle with a Demi-God. A idle thought floated across his mind as he crossed the bloody field. His clean, brightly polished sword shone in the light. A swift breeze ruffled his long, dark hair, sweeping it across his body.

If one attuned to the forces of the world looked hard enough, he could feel a shifting this day. A pebble in the oceans of fate created a small ripple that would, in time, form into a massive rip-tide obliterating everything in its wake.

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