Rating: R-13+
CHAPTER TEN: FAITH AND REPUTATION
The Third League members scan the forest in fear of where that terrifying screech could have come from. Their eyes dart back and forth, looking into the forest past the destruction the fight they had been witnessing has done. They are not from these lands, but they know the stories. They were warned. There are predators in these lands, in these forests, that don't fear the sounds of men. They are attracted to them. They were told stories of battles beset by these fowl creatures, the Taxon birds. They were told of how they ran upon warriors, war-party healers, and people ripping them apart, whether healthy, wounded, or dead. Taxon birds are carrion birds, they will not discriminate between the living and the dead.
"Hurry, Haem, defeat the Demon before the monster fowl is upon us," screams one of the Third League human Sapiens.
Tattu is concerned about the sounds coming from the forest as well. He steels himself to finish the fight before the beasts show themselves.
Diondre looks around in fear. His eyes search the dark forest. He has never heard such things before. He lives in a small city. He only hears things like that in movies. Celmisa can feel his apprehension. She cracks her neck then rushes to Tattu. He is startled again by her speed, then throws a straight, fully extended left punch at her after the initial shock. She parries his punch. He punches two more jabs with his left. She ducks and parries again. He attempts to hit her in the body. She spins outside his punch and around him. He is surprised by her speed and skill. He attempts to turn to meet her behind him. She kicks him in the side. He staggers a few feet but stays on his feet. He is angered. He can tell she did not use the full force of her power in her attack.
"You mean to humiliate me!"
The other members of the Third League can see it as well. His father looks on with disgust at Celmisa. Tattu turns, standing upright. He is enraged. Elbow bent, he rotates his gauntlet shoulder backwards three times. Diondre doesn't know what to do. He thinks he'll wait for a good moment to attack Tattu. If he can stop this fight, it will be over. No one needs to die. Celmisa can feel this from Diondre. She does not believe that will work. She knows Thradals. She knows their cultures, past and present.
"I do not mean to dishonor you," says Celmisa.
"Then fight me properly, demon! Fight me, truly!"
"I can not."
He becomes angered at her words. He rushes to her. He punches at her as he comes into range with the gauntlet arm. She dodges. He repeatedly strikes with both fists. She blocks, dodges, and parries every strike. It makes him furious. Not that she can, but that she does it easily. He pivots his foot forward, twisting his torso, and swings an elbow-bent punch as if he is holding a shield at her face with his gauntlet arm after another combo. She parries and blocks all of them. With her last block, she has her hand against the fist of the gauntlet arm. He releases another energy attack.
His father is concerned. An explosion goes off, but this time she is not blown away. Light, dirt, and dust surround the fighters. As it clears, they see Tattu still in the last cross-punch pose. He does a small rotation of his shoulder before standing up straight. He looks at Celmisa. She has placed darcre where the energy was directed at her. She has no armor on. She stands mostly nude. The darcre is a bumpy and minor cratered oval wall between them. The darcre’s thick, viscous blobs move, slithering over her body, returning to her. Tattu can't believe it.
She does a fast spinning kick, the heel of her foot hitting him in the stomach. Tattu, grabbing his stomach, collapses from the blow to his knees. He can't inhale. He can't move; he is stunned. Celmisa looks down at him curiously. She knows this will not go well with him and the Thradals, but Diondre needs to learn how life is here.
At the Mountain Temple, the Wizard Kings meet in the First Hall of the temple with the representatives of the Olontians, the Tinkerers, Technomages, the Burrowers, the Queen's Wood, though they can not see them, and the Shargoff. There is tension in the air, many of these groups are not in good standing with one another nor with the Wizard Kings. With the Wizard Kings stand the representatives of different armies who answered the call from the beginning.
The Armored Generals of the Wizard Kings' lands stand with the lord they are bound to. Each Wizard King stands in the center of their generals, advisors, military, and civilian officials. General Adarkoth is with Lord Wizard King Quettil. Many of the representatives take notice of him. His reputation is known among them almost as well as the Wizard Kings' and other kingdoms. General Blaska Lootu is to the right of Wizard King Bear Claw. Many Olontians and Tinkerers take notice of him. Lord Wizard King Quettil steps forward from his and the larger assortment.
"I welcome and am grateful for your assistance. Many of you have had… contentious interactions with our compact and one another, yet we all believe in this sacred place and the many that reside over Jassir Di. We believe in what they represent. We believe in the different Sylons from the ages who have given us hope, saved us, strengthened us…. and united us."
The different groups glance at each other, though his words are true, they are not moved.
"They united us in faith. A faith that brings us here now. Because we have faith in the Sylon. We have faith this new Sylon will rise as many have done before. Rise so we all may be and have greater."
Many cheer. The Olontians, Tinkerers, and Technomages look on emotionless. They do not appreciate the rowdiness. They prefer a calm, collected showing of encouragement. The cheering goes on for a few minutes to the dismay of the Olontians, Tinkerers, and Technomages. Some Tinkerers have given in to the excitement. Their fellow Tinkerers look at them in confusion or contempt. Some stop in embarrassment, others continue with less enthusiasm.
"May we…," he says in a low voice. "May we…," he says again, but no one is listening.
They are focused on Lord Wizard Quettil, but he has stopped speaking to allow him to take the floor. He has long, clean white robes on the outside and darker inside robes of two shades of off-white. He wears nothing to stand out from others, nothing to make an impression other than the ornate bands hinted at on his wrists covered by the robe's flared sleeves.
"May we, please settle," he says louder. "May we, please settle ourselves for we have much…," he says louder, getting their attention. "…we have much to speak on, and to do."
Lord Wizard King Quettil raises his hand for their attention and silence as they focus on the middle-aged Olontian man.
"Yes, you are right, Coreman Sasheanko. We should celebrate the battle won but not lose our perspective on the greater conflict."
"The battle we won," says a large, lanky man with a soiled, tight-fitted cap on his head with strings of short hair protruding out in a few places. He is in a dirty, tight, short-sleeved shirt and a short jacket cut off at the top of his abdomen, open at the front. And tight-fitted pants to the top of his calves. His name is Hektor Topaz Krim. He is not well known outside the Burrowers, but what is known of him is feared.
Those among the Wizard Kings' generals, advisors, and officials sneer at his remarks. They don't appreciate the Burrower speaking out. The ones they call Burrowers don't dislike the name only the tone that comes with it. The snide remarks that follow. They call themselves many names but the one for all is Obacko Uji. They don't consider themselves a proud people. They don't think in such ways. They are an isolated people, by choice. Many don't believe they need to be here. Those who do are annoyed even in this situation, even now they can't let their petty prejudice go.
"Yes, you won it. But will it hold," says an Armored General with Wizard King Zarkil annoyed by the Burrower's words. His name is General Kapashaupiki. He believes the Burrower is speaking down to them as if they can not, could not have won. He doesn't want to admit what everyone else knows. They could not, they would not have.
The Obacko Uji sneers then spits.
"My water falls on your floor." He lifts his right foot, bending towards his other leg. He looks at the sole of his foot and then stamps it down on the ground. "My foot falls on your floor." He stares at the group. Then his people behind him. "My blood will not stain your floor." His people cheer. "My blood will not stain your floor!" His people cheer again. He says louder. "My blood will not stain your battlefield, your lands." His people cheer in a rousing roar. They say it after him. "My blood will not stain your battlefield, your lands."
General Kapashaupiki and others find their words an annoying outburst. But most see it as what it is, defying death. A deep voice groans then speaks.
"For we are the breakers. For we break the one. We break the few. We break the many. We break them all," he says the last word the loudest!
The Shargoff hunched over stands straight as they roar with his last word. He stands over nine feet tall of hulking muscle. He points at General Kapashaupiki.
"This one doubts when he was about to die. This one thinks he better than me. He thinks himself better than the Timgolti. He thinks himself better than the Shargoff Senti."
The Shargoff hiss and jeers in deep guttural sounds with his comments.
"We save his life. We make the battle into a victory. And he stands as if he does not need us. This is why we leave your kind to your fate. Because you do not know when to be humble."
The Shargoff cheer to his words. The others also cheer and hoot except the Olontians, Technomages, and most Tinkerers. General Kapashaupiki and others look on irritated.
Coreman Crayankotil dressed in similar attire to Coreman Sasheanko in purple robes on the outside and two shades of darker purple wraps underneath raises his hand above his head.
"I, for one… have never had an occurrence where I found myself agreeing with a Shargoff Senti, Obacko Uji…
They are pleased he is referring to them by their proper names. Most do not.
"…I imagine the Fay Tasah share their sentiment though we can not see them nor do they make sounds to give way their positions. But this indeed is a moment where you of the Wizard King's armies and its allies should show humility and proper gratitude."
General Kapashaupiki and others are about to speak out when General Adarkoth places his hand up to have them halt. They stop. They would never speak against him.
"You are correct…," he directs his words at Coreman Crayankotil.
The others are pleased with his words.
"…all of you. Are correct," he says with a more boisterous voice. "We show our appreciation." He bows his head.
The others look at him in disbelief. He glances at them with his head still down. They capitulate. They will not speak to insult again. The Olontians, Technomages, Tinkerers, Burrowers, and Shargoff are also in disbelief. To have the great General Adarkoth bow his head to them is something they would never have thought would happen for any reason. Yet here he is. The Sylon's return creates miracles. General Adarkoth raises his head.
"Our gratitude for a battle won. For a war, we will win."
Most of the people of the Wizard Kings cheer. Then their allies looking on at first join them. The Olontians, Tinkerers, and Technomages join in with nods of agreement. For a few minutes, this goes on. A man of an average athletic build stands among the Tinkerers. He wears durable clothing for working and building but his clothes are more expensive. His clothing says he is of higher status but sees himself as a worker.
He has curved extensions embedded on both sides of his eyes. They are not out but lenses would extend from them over his eyes for working and other applications. He is a powerful man, a man of business, an industrious engineer. His name is Carpashin Eff Zee. He does not look like much. But most in this room know this man. They know how dangerous he is. He is a man of many talents. But his favorite is making weapons of death, of war.
"Is it true…" Most don't respond to his question but some become quiet focusing on him, especially the Tinkerers, Olontians, and Technomages. He has a great standing with them though for many it's for notorious reasons. "Is it true," he asserts.
The crowd quiets.
"Is it true the Sylon rode dragons to get to the Sylon Temple in Barcax?"
Many make sounds of disgust and anger.
"Of course, it is not true!"
"How could you speak these falsehoods!"
"Blasphemy!"
"Settle," says Lord Wizard King Quettil. "Settle… It is not true."
"We have heard otherwise," bl;urts a soldier among the Tinkerers.
"You have heard falsely," says Wizard Queen Moon Crow.
Many protest.
"Settle… It is not true. The Sy…," continues Lord Wizard King Quettil.
"You deny the Sylon left with the dragons," asks Carpashin Eff Zee.
"I… we do not."
The crowd protests again.
"He left with the dragons but he did not mount them," says Wizard Queen Moon Crow. She wants to jest about the sight she saw but knows it's not the time.
They protest.
"He did not mount them. They took them in their claws," says Lord Wizard King Quettil.
"In their claws?"
"I had heard this."
"I as well."
"Is it still against virtue to be carried by the Dragons?"
"Does this make the Sylon less?"
"The Dragons themselves deemed carrying to be respectful," says Wizard Queen Moon Crow.
"This is true or it would not have been done."
"This is true."
"It was the Sylon's idea. If the Sylon is willing to be taken in such a manner who are we to disagree," says Wizard King Torham Din.
"But to be taken…,"
"It was necessary to get to Black Steel Temple in haste. So he can get back before the battle commenced," says Wizard King Cortl.
"And yet he did not," says Carpashin Eff Zee.
The crowd becomes silent.
"Do we believe the new Sylon met an ill fate," asks an official with the Olontians?
"No, we do not. If he had, the Light would prepare to find another," says Lord Wizard King Quettil.
"There are horrible fates where he does not die," says Carpashin Eff Zee.
Many look at him aware, he would know.
"We do not believe this has occurred," says Wizard King Torham Din.
"Believe… you don't know."
The crowd becomes anxious.
"The Sylon went to retrieve Chana Black Steel. He was optimistic in thinking he would return before the army arrived. We hoped he would but past instances told us it was unlikely."
"The men behind the Wizard Kings are shocked."
"If they had not come to aid us…," says an official behind Wizard King Torham Din?
"Yes, this battle would have gone in favor of the Ovingtum Army."
Those behind the Wizard Kings realize how close they truly were to death. They knew it. At least most did but to have it confirmed troubles them.
"We have to hold until the Sylon arrives. When he gains the legendary sword he will be unstoppable. He will… he will," says an official with Wizard King Torham Din.
"That is correct. Once the Sylon gains the Black Steel sword he will return. Then this war will be over," says an official behind Wizard King Zarkil attempting to believe these words.
"No," says Lord Wizard Quettil. "It will have begun. But our faith has been answered and will continue to be so. The Sylon will return with the Black Steel sword. He will come into his power. And the army of Plice will quake in fear."
The crowd looks at him. They realize it would have been over had their allies not come to help. But the war to stop Plice, to stop his army, will begin with the Sylon's return. They will steel themselves. They will prepare.
Tattu is on his knees bested physically and mentally. He can't believe he has lost the fight. He can't believe he can't move. One blow. It only took one blow from the Demon and he is done. Celmisa looks over to Diondre. She waves him over. He can feel she is focused but has eased in her aggression. Hattu with his hand up gestured for Diondre and Celmisa to stop walks before his son.
"Do not kill my son," says Hattu.
"Kill," says Diondre shocked. "I don't want to…"
"You are a Thradal. A Thradal pleading for mercy? That is not the way of your people."
"I would never." He says looking down at his beaten son. "I am asking for you to give him a reprieve. To consign him to your service. You have defeated him. Ask of him what you will as a price for his life."
"Are you asking me to make him a slave? I would never do that."
"No, my Sylon. It is not slavery he is offering."
"That is good," says Diondre relieved.
"Ask him to do something and it will be done. He will give his life for the outcome asked of him. He will devote his life to that cause or achievement. That is what he is saying. We now have the choice to choose where his life will proceed. We can end it or give it a new purpose. That is their way."
"Yes. My son will devote himself to whatever you ask, whether virtuous or atrocious."
"What! No, I can't choose something like that."
"You must. Or kill him. He can not live with this dishonor."
"Dishonor. He lost a fight. Get up. Shake it off. Do better next time."
"What is he saying," asks another Thradal fighter?
"What does he mean shake it off," says a Sapien Human fighter.
"He lost to a Demon. He was humiliated. Why does the Sylon diminish him further," says another Thradal fighter?
Others speak about his words confused.
"No, No. I don't mean literally. I mean losing a fight doesn't mean he has to die. It's a… a learning experience. It's humbling."
"Humbling," blurts Hattu and Tattu!
The Thradals and Sapien Humans fighters all clamor with the same energy as Tattu and Hattu. They can't believe what they have heard.
"Why do you feel the need to disgrace us? I believed the Sylon was a being of hope," says Tattu.
"I didn't mean…"
"May I, my Sylon."
"Yeah, yeah, please. I'm just making this worse."
"Lord Sylon did not mean to offend you…"
Tattu looks at him not believing these words.
"…What he meant is he is not accustomed to the idea that he can choose the life of another. He believes each individual must choose their own life, their own purpose, their own… happiness. For him to go against this is to go against what he is. No different than to ask you not to live according to your ways and customs. You are doing the same to him."
"Yes exactly," says Diondre.
Tattu blurts out, "What!"
Hattu places his hand on his son's chest to stop him. Tattu stops, waiting for the wisdom of his father.
"If it is not the ways of this Sylon to choose. If he can not give my son a proper resolution then…" Hattu pulls out his weapon. "Then take his life."
Tattu puffs up his chest waiting for the blow.
"No," blurts Sylon!
"It can not be against your customs to kill an enemy," says Hattu.
"It is," says Celmisa.
"What," says all of the League members!
"But it is of no concern," says Celmisa.
"What?"
"Why?"
"What is the Demon saying," says a Thradal fighter?
"Be clear Demon," says Hattu.
"It is clear. It is not the Sylon's choice. It is mine. For I am the one that defeated him."
They all look at each other.
"A Demon. A woman. Can not…" says Hattu.
"An exception can be made for I am not a Demon. And it was a woman that defeated him."
The Third League look on in disgust.
"Father…"
Hattu gestures for his son to be silent. Tattu still stunned feels he is disgracing his father further, disgracing his family, their lineage. He looks down at the Oving Hammer Fist Gauntlet. He thinks he doesn't deserve it. A large screech and a death wail of a Taxon bird fills the air. They all look up at the forest wondering where they are and what they heard. As they all look out to the forest, Celmisa continues.
"I am Yaleeshya. I believe there is no dishonor to lose to one."
The Third League members blurt out.
"Liar."
"The Demon lies."
"Do not believe it."
"Kill the Demon. Regain your honor."
Hattu begins to rotate his shoulder.
"Lord Sylon, confirm what Lady Bloodstone said."
The group is in shock. They had heard that name before Hattu spoke it. Some are attempting to remember how they know the name but they do, that means they have a reputation of merit or are infamous. Those that recall, know who she is. They can not believe the Exiled Enchant Noble walks with them.
"Is it true? You know…,"
Before a human Sapien soldier can finish.
"It is. She speaks of the EmberSteel Hallower," says the scout that watched them at Black Steel Temple.
"That is who that is?"
"Yes, yes it is," says one remembering. "If she is with you."
"What did she say, Sylon," asks Hattu?
"She, she called her a… um… a… Halacya."
Hattu looks at his son. He then looks at the others shocked.
"You heard. My son. My son fought a Holy one. He fought a Ha Leek Ka," says Hattu fiercely. Then his face lightens. He smiles, "Did you see? Did you see my son with his power and force launch a Ha Leek Ka from his blow? Did you see?
"I saw Haempah. I saw."
"I saw too," yells multiple men. "I saw too."
They cheer with huge smiles on their face.
Hattu turns to Celmisa.
"My son did that to you."
She nods. Hattu looks at his son.
"Stand up."
Tattu doesn't want to stand. He still feels weak in the knees.
"Stand up and gain favor. He stood up to a Holy one. With your strike, they were propelled through the air. And you still live. Stand up and be honored by our people."
The Third League cheer. Hattu puts out his hand. Tattu looks at it. He looks at Celmisa. He grabs his father's hand. His father helps him to his feet. He grabs his son's wrist, raising his hand. The Third League cheers. Then more screeches come from the forest. Screeching and multiple wails of death.
"This is resolved," asks Celmisa?
"You must choose my son's future. To have a purpose given by a Ha Leek Ka. My son," he says with pride.
Tattu is embarrassed by his father's words.
"First we should assist Lady Bloodstone and our party. They are in battle with Tashon birds.
"What," says Diondre?
"You need to learn to hear more. Don't worry, you will," says Celmisa then runs off.
Diondre looks at Hattu and Tattu. He raises his hand bent at the elbow pointing in the direction Celmisa ran.
"I… I need to go," says Diondre then he runs off too.
They both disappear in a blur. Tattu and Hattu look at one another.
"Father we were sent to stop the Sylon. Now I'm to live my life by his party member wishes?"
"We were never sent to stop the Sylon. We were sent to distract him. We have succeeded."
The Third League look on, hoping that will be sufficient.
"Let us follow them. They may need our assistance."
The Third League is hesitant. They glance at one another. Then they cheer.
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