The world storm, p.21
The World Storm, page 21
“I am Nyx, the archfiend of patience. Like the tide that erodes unruly stone, I am inexorable. I cannot be slain and cannot be stopped. I have wrought this calamity that will grind away your cities. You can kneel in salvation, or die in the storm,” the demon snarls, as he approaches the golden, hound-faced king as the people of Stonewall stand wordlessly watching. There is movement to my right, and I look to see Crimson turn his back to the fight and begin walking back toward the hill we all emerged from.
Zifaroth rises to his feet and casts off his now useless armor and shield which both were destroyed during Nyx’s last onslaught. He now wields only his beautiful blade and wears a pair of trousers with no shirt. Every inch of the humanoid is covered in muscle, and standing up to any other threat, I’d be assured of his success. His fur tells a different story. While the king stands tall and proud of the fight, he is littered with massive cuts, and his golden fur is soaked with the blood of his many wounds.
“Everyone can be slain, and anyone can be stopped!” the king shrieks as he dashes the winged fiend. I do not witness what comes next as I cannot help but turn my head to the fleeing elven king.
“Help him!” I scream after Crimson Silverclad and his company. I feel my voice break in desperation as I run after the elven promenade. “He’ll die without you!”
To my surprise, Crimson stops walking but does not immediately turn around. When he does, his face is filled with a stern, silent, sorrowful, yet unyielding steadiness. He breaks from his group and walks toward me, which makes me wish to recoil, but I have no caution left in me.
“Do you think I do not care for Zifaroth?” he shouts into my face as we stand next to one another. “Do you think I wished to see this happen? His death is not on me, it is on his own stupidity! He gambled his people for pride and ambition. For centuries, I thought he was different from those he ruled. Today, he proved that he is just like a human. Vain and arrogant. He chose his death, and I will not stop until every human knows how much it cost us!”
“So, you’re going to let him die to prove a point?” I yell back into the king's face, doing my best to shower him in as much saliva as he has done to me. “You’re going to what? As you said, not allow humans to let the world down again? You hope this will end human rule? Without Zifaroth, who will kill this unstoppable force?” I know that the barrage of rhetorical questions is not a good method of convincing someone, but I’m so pissed that I don’t care.
“I do not take orders from foolish kings of men who sacrifice their people for vanity. Nor do I listen to silly girls who have lived fewer years than I have offspring.” He turns his snarling face and walks away.
“Then you are a coward, and everything that follows is on you,” I say to the king’s back.
“I’d rather be a live coward than a dead fool,” he says, over his shoulder, without slowing down.
I turn back to see the rest of my friends running after me and now look on with concern. Behind them, I see the flailing body of Zifaroth fly through the air toward his collection of soldiers. He lands on a heap and crawls toward them, reaching a hand toward help that will not get to him in time anyway. The demon lands again, ten feet from the struggling celestial.
“Any who approach will die useless deaths,” Nyx says, as many of the soldiers brandish weapons. “Human life will become oh so rare in the days to come. Let’s not waste it.” Zifaroth cannot even move enough to rise to his feet. Instead, he props himself up on his left shoulder and holds the blade threateningly toward his encroaching doom.
“If you kill me, I will simply be reborn in the heavens,” he says before shouting back to his people. “I will not have left you; I will still be—” But he is cut off in more than one way. Nyx buries his massive greatsword into the ground to the left of Zifaroth’s throat and drags it through the dirt directly across the king’s neck. The dog-shaped head rolls with the momentum of the blade smearing blood everywhere, but it only remains for a moment. Zifaroth’s lifeless body begins to disintegrate into a particulates finer than dust. That which remains of the former king is absorbed into the night black sword which Nyx holds high as a trophy.
With another glance to the right, I see king Silverclad’s court stepping through the portal in the large tree atop the hill we landed upon. The dark-skinned elf is the last through and he hesitates just before the final step and gazes out onto the field where his friend was put to death. Even from this distance, there is no mistaking the tears that Crimson is shedding for his old friend.
“Not today, dear king,” Nyx says, before addressing the remaining human force. “No one else needs to die today. Return to your city and prepare for the storm that is coming. You are dismissed.” As he turns his back to the humans, they look around at one another, unsure of what to do. The horde of demons disappears when Nyx reaches the cluster of them, and the humans slowly begin walking back toward the gatehouse of stonewall.
As the crowd thins, Lilith approaches the only thing left of Stonewall’s late king, his prismatic scimitar. She bends over and picks it up in her hands, weighing it as she looks out into the quickly shifting storm clouds. Before her eyes, even as she stands there holding it, the sword dematerializes, joining its owner in the aether. It takes me a moment to realize that Lilith is crying. We all approach her, and those of us who have hands put them on her shoulder.
“We lost more than one king of The Stranger Lands today,” she says, from what may as well have been a thousand miles away.
“They’re just people,” I say, trying to remain optimistic for my new friend. “Where I’m from, we don’t put much stock in politicians.”
“Where you’re from, there aren’t heroes. The Stranger Lands have relied on those two for protection for generations. When a threat would arise, they would embark to meet it. Without their leadership, who will save us?” she asks.
“There’s nothing we can do now except continue,” Wrenn says.
We turn to follow the battalion of troops toward the nearest gatehouse into the city. To my surprise, the gate is open and unguarded, inside lies a hint as to why. People run about frantically, preparing for travel and gathering their children. Donkeys, mules, and horse-drawn carriages stand near their owners weighed down with their belongings. I wonder to myself as we walk about the streets of the metropolis if the elves of Elfsong had this much chaos when they left their homes.
“Pack only what you need and make for one of the denoted sanctuaries!” A nearby man dressed in green shouts from a high point above the crowds. I recognize him as a crier like we have in Moridia, tasked with delivering the news of the city. Today, it seems that the criers have helped spread the word about the evacuation.
“Make for the monastery at Cloud Top if you can travel fast. If you have children or are elderly, you have a spot for your family in the iron mines to the north. If you cannot travel at all, find a nearby storm shelter and bring enough food for seven days,” another crier’s voice rings out over the crowds.
“Why are we even here?” Lilith asks, as we wander about the streets.
“We needed to escape the elven forest as you said. The storms would have made the forest deadly to try to travel through,” I say, surprised at the elf’s despair.
“But now what? We just witnessed the greatest warrior in the country fall to a demon who didn’t so much as acquire a scratch from the battle. Now this demon intends to conquer the world. Is there any way we can stop this?” she asks.
“We could try to find Raz and his group if they survived the storm. At the very least they will know what is going on,” I say.
“The king said they are responsible for all this death,” Wrenn says, silencing the rest of my points.
“We need to get to Vesperia,” says Lilith.
“Why? Surely, they’re already enveloped in the storm,” I say.
“Vesperia will be safe, well as safe as it usually is,” she says, confidently and without explaining further. I look to Wrenn who I also know to be from the gothic country, and he nods.
“Safety is great, but how will being in Vesperia help us locate The Void Walkers?” Wrenn asks.
“I have a contact that will be able to help us,” Lilith says.
“Well, it’s more than a month's travel from here, and that’s without accounting for the superstorm heading our way,” I say, wondering why we’re still walking deeper into the congested city.
“Wrenn and I will be able to get us to Vesperia if we can reach the Vesperian consulate,” she explains.
“How? They certainly won’t teleport us for free, and we have very little gold to our name,” I ask, growing annoyed at her unwillingness to be forthcoming.
“Citizens of Vesperia have a great many protections even while they are not in the country,” explains Wrenn. “Most major countries' capital cities have a way for Vesperia to recall their citizens if they are in trouble.”
We continue to walk through the city despite the chaotic and horrifying scenes. Stonewall is everything and more that I’ve heard it to be. White stone buildings line the streets, many being five stories tall, and the streets are laid in luxurious patterns with cobblestone. Progress through the city reveals even more of an incredible revelation of the architecture. It appears as though every mile or so a new architect took over the design. For all I know, the city could have been a collection of several cities combined into one conjoined civilization.
A deafening cracking sound from all around us ends my admiration. Humans, what few there are nearby, bend over and put their hands over their ears as the ground begins to shake. It is all that we can do to remain standing. Fortunately, the five of us are walking through a grass field park with no buildings around. Strangely enough, while the earth continues to tremble, the buildings in all directions remain steadfast and do not collapse. The other civilians in the park stop and look to the north, but their gaze is in wonder rather than surprise. They look as though they are here to spectate something rather than being afraid for their lives. I follow their eyes to behold something I never would have predicted seeing.
A mass of land topped with stone structures is hovering just above the rest of the city. It has been ripped up from the ground and now presents itself as a city on top of a floating island. I cannot discern the size of the floating earth, but it's no question that thousands of people live on top. It continues to climb into the air, crumbling dirt and boulders the size of buildings fall from it and crash to the ground below. The sound of cracking and trembling of the earth has ceased and is replaced with the delayed sounds of the tiny meteors falling back to the ground.
The people around us erupt into a combination of cheers and boos when the floating city reaches the clouds minutes later. Others in the park take notice and continue about their business without paying much mind. A particularly boisterous celebrant stands only feet from me.
“What was that?” I say, needlessly gesturing upwards to the clouds.
“Project Citadel,” he says, surprised at my panic. When I show no recognition of the name, he continues. “Citadel is the rich district. For years they planned on turning their district into a floating island. With The World Storm approaching, the king commanded it to ascend ahead of schedule.”
“The rich just get to float away while the rest of you fend for yourselves?” I say, painfully reminded of Moridia.
“Listen, rich or poor,” he says, gesturing to the meteor-sized city disappearing into the clouds. “That right there, that’s hope, that’s our legacy, those are our people. I might die, but Stonewall will survive.”
“Has this ever been done before?” I ask, noting that he called it a ‘floating district’.
“Our arena district is floating, but that was done hundreds of years ago, and the mages of the city weren’t sure they could replicate the magic,” he says.
“Will the rich even be safe up there?” I ask, and he shrugs.
“I assume so,” he says simply.
I look back to my friends who are as shocked by what we’ve seen today as I am. We discuss idly the people of Stonewall’s chances of living through the storm as we continue making our way to the Vesperian consulate. The party concludes that much like everyone else, their chances are very grim. I, for one, am hopeful. I realize that a majority will perish, but with them splitting up and going to different locations, some of them may be able to survive. Much like Wrenn, Lilith, Easton, Phanual, and me, they will need to learn to live in the new world very quickly.
Chapter 12: Patience is an Iniquity
Fortunately, our limping goes unnoticed as we flee from the battle torn market. The sounds of collapsing buildings and fiery explosions draw significant attention. We hear the pounding of the guard’s heavy boots approaching the square, and we duck into a nearby alley. We find our way into a crowd of bystanders, curiously gawking at the disturbance in the next street over. I wonder aloud why there were no guards there when the fight began and why none were able to reach us during the struggle.
We conclude that The New Day Wizards must have set up the ambush and told the guards to avoid the square. If it is the case that The New Day Wizards had caused the town guard to avoid an entire city block, then we had made a grave error in underestimating our foes. The four of us spread out to not draw attention to ourselves as we weave through the crowded streets.
None of the passing guards or terrified citizens notice Sasha’s sleeping form floating above the tops of the buildings or my careful focus on the telekinesis spell. Once we trek far enough from the carnage that we feel safe, we slip into an alley, and I lower Sasha carefully into it with us. As I end the spell and breathe a sigh of relief, I place him against the wall in a seated position. I notice now that there is no unicorn nearby, and I look at Welby who is eyeing me curiously.
“Where’s Namira?” but Welby produces his hand from a pocket of his new clothing. In his palm, stands a perfectly lifelike but thimble-sized unicorn.
“I grew jealous of the way you can just stick Miss Liz in your pocket like that, so nature sent me a spell to do the same,” he explains, placing her back inside his pocket. “Why did you keep this person alive?”
“This is my guardian, Sasha. He raised me when my parents died,” I say, looking back to the handsome man, asleep in the magical manacles upon his wrists. There is a collective intake of breath as all their eyes flash in surprise.
“Does this mean...” Matthias begins.
“That he has turned on me and joined The New Day Wizards?” I ask, “I don’t know, but I can’t think of any other explanation.”
“Could he be mind-controlled?” Welby asked.
“It’s unlikely,” I respond thoughtfully. “Abjurers are notoriously difficult to mind control. A powerful mage could influence him in minor ways, but full control would be too difficult for just about anyone.”
I bend down before my childhood caretaker. It just doesn’t make any sense. The day I fled from Moridia, he had confronted me. He gave me a several minute lecture about responsibility and a rundown of just how specifically I had screwed up. When he had the opportunity to capture me, he didn’t. Instead, he gave me advice on how to evade The New Day Wizards and a pocketful of gold. Why would he turn on me now if he hadn’t done so then? Either way, I resolve that he cannot possibly be trusted with his spellbook, components pouch, or his fig leaf spell focus.
After removing these objects from his possession, I think to myself about the numerous spells Sasha may still be able to utilize using only a keen mind and a swift word. I nod to Matthias who has begun removing the manacles. Sasha’s eyes slowly blink open as the manacles clatter to the ground. His eyes widen as he glances around the alleyway, and fortunately he is bound and gagged, for he looks like he’d prefer to teleport away from the situation forthwith. He comes to terms with his predicament rather quickly, and his panic turns to curiosity.
“Sasha, I’m sorry but I had to bind and gag you. When we remove your gag, I’m going to need you to not try to teleport away. I’ll be watching you, and I know how to unravel, so just don’t.” He nods and Welby removes the gag from his mouth.
“How… how do you know my name?” he asks.
“We’ll ask the questions… what?” begins Matthias confusedly.
“What do you mean?” I splutter, wondering if this is a ploy to get me to drop my guard.
“How do you know who I am?” he reiterates forcefully. I’m reminded that despite my position of power currently over my godfather, I still feel the urge to not disrespect him.
“Sasha, I’m not sure what you’re playing at. You raised me after my parents died.” His blank look all but confirms that he has no idea what we’re talking about.
“Alright, we’ll return to this,” Matthias growls, “how did you know where we were, and why did you ambush us? If you value your toes, you may want to talk quickly.”
“Well, we’ve been watching you since you slaughtered everyone in Moridia,” he says, with a tinge of annoyance.
“How have you been watching us?” I say, knowing the answer before he tells me.
“There’s a spell that allows the user to peer through the eyes of another. I was the only one able to consistently achieve the spell,” he explains, and I remember that someone familiar with the target is ideal for the casting.
“How long have you been watching us?” I ask.
“A few hours each week after you killed that stable boy and tried to kidnap Ellasandra Matthews. After that, it was several hours a day,” he says. I stagger at this information. They’ve been watching me this whole time? I think to myself.
“Why ambush us? Surely you know by now about the storms, we can’t possibly be your greatest concern,” Matthias interrupts.
“Our new leadership believes you to be a greater threat to us than the storms. That was Rowan’s mistake. When he learned that you had entered the academy, he should have fled instead of trying to kill you himself,” he says.
