The Spirit of Revenge (22 page)

“You say you’ve studied the ways of these Knights for your entire life, but how is that possible if you’re scarce older than I?”

Malecai laughed lightly. “Cain, there are many things you do not understand. But know this, that things always happen for a reason. You must reach out yourself to find the answers to it all. All of your questions will one day be revealed to you, you just have to know what to look for.”

C
ain’s eyes snapped open, waking up to Malecai kneeling beside him. Malecai slapped him lightly on the face and stood up. “Saddle up, we have a long road ahead of us.” Together, they woke the rest of the group and ate sparingly. They then packed their bags and saddled their horses.

Malecai flicked his reins and led the group away from the cave and into the surrounding trees. They followed a path that snaked down a steep slope and cut deeper into the forests.

The travelers continued east for several minutes before branching off north from the path. They stepped into the trees and were forced to spread out.

“How far-” Joshua began to ask but was cut short.

“You would do well to quiet yourself,” Malecai said, “the Iscara may be anywhere. We ride in silence.”

The Warriors heeded his words and continued in silence. The sun rose atop the trees, filling the forest with light. Snow trickled around them. A cool, gentle breeze tickled across their skin.

The company continued throughout the day, the sun slowly creeping across the skies. They rode along the foot of a hill that atop it must have been the Knife Ridge. They ate a quick meal and continued through noon, the sun now falling fast from the sky.

The travelers rode for hours, the miles quickly slipping by. The sun at last fell behind the treetops and its light began to dwindle.

They rode into the dusk and soon into night, bound eternal in silence. Darkness fell and the cold of night closed over them.

They pulled their cloaks closer for warmth and continued through the now thinning forest.

The sky above was cradled in clouds, their dark masses blotting out any glint of light from the moon and stars. The night grew darker until they could see nothing but the reins in their hands. The silence of the night was eerie, almost supernatural.

The Warriors blindly stumbled out of the forests and into a field of shrubbery. Every tree around them was dead, barren and rotting in the chill air. Weeds and dead grass stretched far off into the breadth of a distant hill.

Their horses crossed through the thick undergrowth, weaving through hundreds of dead trees. Malecai turned and informed the others, “This should have put us well around the Knights; I doubt they would be this far around the Knife Ridge.”

They blindly reined their horses through the trees, struggling to find a path in the darkness. “We are close now,” Malecai muttered, “there is something ahead I wish to show you.”

They continued for several minutes through the dense overgrowth until they came to a large formation that towered far above them. It was a massive hill, a lone silhouette in the night.

“We are here…” Malecai whispered as quietly as he dared. He dismounted and gestured for the others to do likewise. They jumped off their horses and tethered them to a rotten tree.

Malecai approached the foot of the hill, the Warriors close behind. He halted and closed his eyes.

“What are you doing?” Cain asked as he walked past him.

Malecai threw his hand in front of Cain’s chest, stopping him in mid stride.

“Keeping us alive.” He held his palms out, his elbows bent slightly as a feeble wind picked up and blew across the grass.

He muttered inaudibly and held his hands out farther in front of him. He began to gradually push forward as if leaning into a wall of stone. He continued to murmur, his face wrought with concentration.

He stepped forward and leaned into a sudden gale of wind. After a short struggle, he then walked forward again and pulled his hands to the sides as if to part the air before them. He then dropped his arms and the wind died instantly, leaving the air still and unperturbed; falling thick around them once again.

“What did you just do?” Cain asked with a raised brow.

“This land is protected with the consecrations of holy men, if you pass over them…” He laughed a moment, “Well, it is best not to find out.”

He began to climb the steep hill and the others followed close behind. They soon reached the top and looked around.

They could scarcely discern through the darkness that they stood now upon a flat hilltop. Several other hills encircled them, towering far above the dead and wilted lands.

“Welcome to the Barrows of Alon Heath, my friends. The ancient burial grounds of the kings of Erias.” He held his arms up in a flourish and stepped forward.

The group began to cross the hilltop, turning slowly as they walked to soak in the grandeur of the Barrows.

Malecai continued to speak to the awestruck Warriors, his quiet words sailing the shadows before being stifled against the mighty hills. “These Barrows are hallowed ground, sacred to the peoples of Erias. Only the Tongueless of Helika were allowed to enter this sacred ground.

The Tongueless were men who devoted their entire lives to their religion, their dedication to their one god. They believed in ultimate piety, and went to extreme lengths in their attempt to reach a higher calling.

They severed their tongues upon completion of their studies, believing that in doing so would prevent slander and sin, a needless way of remaining pure.

The Tongueless performed their morbid tasks, burying their kings for over four thousand years.

However, their ancient and sacred religion was thrown aside by the people of Tarsha, who over the course of history grew comfortable in that which their god provided. They fell to sin and began to worship themselves, turning their backs on their one god, their creator and provider.

The stories say that Tarsha’s god grew angry with his children, and saw his answer in the callous heart of the young Abaddon. He lured him into these lands and bestowed a great gift upon him, immortality and limitless power.

In return for this endowment, Abaddon follows the will of the Forgotten, to eradicate all of humanity for turning their backs on him. We have fought this war ever since…”

“I told you the stories were true,” Joshua said as he turned to his brother.

Silas retorted, “I can’t believe you think this shit is real. It’s just a story.”

“Think what you want, but I know what’s right. There is a reason we’re fighting this war. There has to be.”

The group fell silent and Malecai began to speak again. “The stories are indeed true. How else could a mere man live for four centuries? As far as the Barrows are concerned, the last devout followers of the Forgotten sealed the tombs, forming the barrier we passed over.

Since then, no one has dared enter Alon Heath. You are the first to set your eyes upon the holiest site in the world…”

Cain wrapped his fingers slowly around the handle of his sword and eyed the encompassing darkness with angst. “Why did you bring us here?” he asked Malecai angrily as they reached the top of a second hill.

Malecai smirked and replied, “Why not?”

Cain glared at him, his glossed words dying in the weight of the silence. He turned his attention from the man, his eye shortly caught with fascination as they crossed the hill.

Looming hillocks rose around them and stretched off afar. Wildflowers and shrubbery adorned their brows.

Colossal stones and pillars lay barely visible beneath thick blankets of undergrowth, cracked and weathered over the centuries.

Statues of robed men stood lofty and pompous on every hilltop, their crowned heads bowed in reverence, hands folded in eternal prayer.

The Warriors walked across the hill toward three statues that stood in the middle of the mound.

They were at least twenty feet in height, each standing defiant against the crippling hands of time. They were fashioned entirely of ivory stone and swathed in chiseled robes. Great cracks wove across their faces and garments, marring the once shimmering and brilliant.

The middle statue’s hands extended from its robes, palms rose to the night sky as if it once held something of prominence.

“They’re beautiful,” Adriel said in awe, delicately touching the stone robes of the middle statue. A heavy raindrop fell from the sky and ran down the statue’s cheek. Soon, a soft rain fell over the Barrows, pattering with a whisper in the grass.

The air hung profoundly stifling around them, filled with an unbreakable tension. The earth seemed to inhale deeply, engulfing all life as it held its breath.

Then, through the rhythm of the rain, the Warriors heard a faint rasp of steel behind them. They spun around and peered anxiously through the drizzling rain.

A large ball of blue light formed at the base of the first hill and spread its rays through the darkness. The Warriors stepped back as the beams sprawled forth over the crest, revealing them among the darkness.

The light blinded the Warriors instantly and they stepped back helplessly, shielding their eyes.

“There they are!” A voice shouted through the rain.

Suddenly, the skies above Alon Heath lit up in a flash, turning the night sky into instant day. An intense sea of ivory light poured forth from the clouded skies, blinding the Warriors once again.

Two men ran through the light straight for the Warriors, swords raised to strike down their unsuspecting prey. “No!” a man’s voice cried out from behind them.

The air pulsated in violent waves that rippled through the grass. The ground then shook violently, ripping massive chunks of earth from the hills that then began to float strangely into the air. The light collected as a mighty pillar of light and then fell swift from the heavens, colliding into the two running men and stopping them in mid stride.

They instantly dropped to their knees, screaming in pain as if suddenly engulfed in fire. They tossed their blades and tore wildly at their faces. Blood began pouring from their mouths and steam billowed from their eye sockets. They clawed madly at the ground and writhed in agony, their god-forsaken screams piercing the air. They shook violently and their chests suddenly erupted, blood and entrails exploding forth and spraying over the ground.

Then as quickly as it had come, the ray of light disappeared and withdrew back into the clouds. With a last deafening boom, rain and darkness returned to the barrows.

The Warriors stood in amazement, attempting to make sense of the horrors they just witnessed. Malecai, the first to recover, held his weapon warily before him and stared into the ball of light that reappeared at the foot of the hill.

The wind that encircled the base of the mound died and the light began to ascend the hill.

“Hold your ground,” Malecai whispered to the others. “Do not let them near.” The light advanced and the sound of footsteps grew louder.

“Who are they?” Aaron whispered to the group. Malecai glared at him through rain-drenched hair, a sharp retort silencing him immediately.

The light passed over the eviscerated remains of the dead men and came to a stop several yards before the Warriors. The Warriors could vaguely discern a group of seven men behind the blinding ball of light.

They each wore full sets of body armor painted black as the surrounding night. In the middle of each cuirass was a snake wrapped around a sword, the entire crest painted like a splattered bloodstain across their breasts. The men looked them over through long, dark hair.

Silas let out a shout and rushed at the men. Malecai threw out his arm and grabbed Silas’s Sitar as he ran past. He pulled him back into the group and stepped towards the men. One of them stepped forward and the light died in his clenched fist.

Malecai and the man now stood several yards away from their respective groups, glaring at each other in searing hate. A heavy rain now fell down on the Barrows, clinking loudly on the men’s armor in the apprehensive silence.

“Did you honestly think you could escape?” The man muttered after a moment. His voice was lucid and strangely chilling, nearly a whisper amid the rainfall.

“Long enough to lure you here…” Malecai replied, smirking at Cain over his shoulder. The Warriors’ eyes lit up in surprise, shocked by his words.

“You killed six of my men,” the man said, “returning the favor is long overdue, Malecai.”

“My only regret, Elijah, is that I could not kill you.” Malecai held up his sword, ready for any sudden attack from the man.

Elijah laughed, the chill notes echoing in the hills. “Humor me. You were always weak, Malecai. You cannot keep us from them forever. Abaddon’s reach is vast, if he wants them dead, then dead they will be. However, he thirsts for the blood of Taran especially…is that him there?” He looked at Cain for a moment. “Not much of a threat if you ask me, but who am I to question the wish of the Destroyer.”

“I know he is wanted. But I will keep him from Abaddon’s grasp, unto my death if need be.”

The men beside Elijah stepped forward and drew their swords. The Warriors held their weapons out defensively, ready for an imminent attack.

“Very well,” Elijah replied, “then I have no choice but to kill him, Abaddon does not need him alive.” Elijah glanced at Cain, “Sorry friend, nothing personal.”

He suddenly thrust his sword at Malecai, sending a surge of lightning from the blade. Malecai thrust his palm out and the blast crashed harmlessly into an invisible wall before him.

Elijah ran forward and thrust his hand out, sending a blast of black light shooting from his palm and racing towards Malecai.

Malecai brought his sword close to his body as the blast slammed into him. The light struck with full force into the sword’s broad face, sending him slowly backwards as it pushed relentlessly at him. With a cry, he spun and sent the light shooting past him.

He threw out his hand and massive bolts of black lightning surged forth and crashed into his enemy. The web of lightning shot into his face, clawing through his eyes and mouth. Screaming with agony, Elijah dropped his sword and stepped back as the tendrils continued to drill through his skull. The lightning blasted through his eyes and mouth, clawing into his head with a sickening squelch of boiling blood. With a final cry, Elijah collapsed to the ground.