Book 6: Chapter 36: The Voices in Our Minds
Valla stood atop the parapet and watched as the world burned. When Victor had come up with the idea to burn the trees, to start a fire that would hopefully kill the undead hordes hiding in that foggy forest, she’d tried to visualize what it would be like. She’d never seen a forest fire, never seen one of the brush fires that sometimes brought refugees into Gelica from the northern plains. She’d smelled the smoke in the air and seen the sun turn into a hazy, red-orange globe in the sky, but she’d never been close enough to see the flames. She’d never seen the night sky light up with such an evil, amber glow.
“I didn’t realize how big it would be . . .” she muttered, mostly to herself, but Edeya heard her.
“It’s like we unleashed a monster, something a hundred times worse than the undead lurking in those trees.” Apparently, the young Ghelli was also struggling to come to grips with what they’d done. The flames hadn’t yet reached the trees directly bordering the extensive clearing around the keep, but they couldn’t be far off. Valla could hear the fire, a low, incessant, rumbling roar. If you didn’t focus on it, you could almost forget it was there, a testament to the adaptability of the mind, almost like living near a loud river or waterfall.
“Hard to believe that low rumble is the sound of the fire. Imagine! If you broke down those noises, you’d hear crackling flames, cracking and popping wood, falling branches and trees, thrashing, burning undead. Stampeding animals!” She turned to Edeya, looking into her bright, blue eyes, her pale face highlighted by the beautiful, blue, shimmering lights of her new wings. “The flames will reach us soon. Sarl has his Wind Casters ready to funnel the smoke away while it passes.”
“Good for us, but what of all the creatures that made this forest their home?”
Valla frowned. “As Victor said, if we don’t beat these undead invaders, this forest would soon be dead or twisted, the animals worse off. At least they can flee the flames.”
“True. However, many creatures have perished already. Did you see the stampede a couple of hours ago? I’ve never seen so many woodland animals together!”This chapter was first shared on the Ñøv€lß1n platform.
“I was corresponding with Rellia, but Sarl told me about it.” Valla gripped the smooth, black stones of the parapet and, still staring out into the glowing orange smoke, quietly asked, “Do you think they’ve made it yet?”
“Victor?” When Valla’s only response was a quick nod, Edeya clasped her slender hand around her wrist. “I’m sure they have. You’ve seen how fast that great spirit mount can run!”
“I hate that he took that woman with him.”
“I know! She . . . gives me a bad feeling. I suppose it’s primarily because she’s one of them.” Edeya gestured toward the forest, and Valla knew she meant the undead. “Still, I worry that she’s taking advantage of Victor’s big, stupid heart.” She laughed to soften the words, and Valla chuckled along with her.
“He certainly suffers from that affliction. Too much heart.” Her smile fell away, and she looked upward, blinking rapidly. “Of course, that’s what I love about him, too.”
“I know. I know!” Edeya squeezed her wrist again, and Valla cleared her throat, glancing up and down the parapet, confirming that the soldiers on watch weren’t staring at her.
“Well, that’s enough misty-eyed nonsense. Those flames will be here soon, and with their passage, we’ll learn how effective they were at culling the undead.”
#
At the urging pressure of Victor’s will, his nightmarish alter ego, struggling in a slashing, gnashing, grappling match with the huge wampyr, took note of the warmth in his otherwise cold, hard chest. Now that he was aware, that fire within vied for his attention, almost outshining the brilliant crimson-orange-yellow spirit with which he fought. The heat tickled there, almost like an itch, like a pressure that wanted to release. Yes, that was it; it wanted out. It wanted to vent forth!
“Devil!” he croaked. “Kill me, then! Know that I’ll curse you to hell and back. If I don’t kill you in this life, I . . .” His words stopped short as Lifedrinker’s smoking edge severed his thick, blackened neck. Victor watched the wampyr’s misshapen head roll away, and then he kicked the giant, charred corpse with his boot, flipping it onto its back. He lifted Lifedrinker and chopped at the blackened flesh over the ribs, hacking again and again until she split through those lifeless bones. The corpse was less resilient than in life, and soon, he’d made a large opening.
“Thank you, chica.” He carefully wiped Lifedrinker’s edge on his sturdy leather pants and slung her into her harness. “Come here, bastard.” He grabbed the edges of the wampyr’s ribs and pulled, straining to widen the opening. When the dead bones still resisted him, he remembered his Sovereign Will bonus and switched it from dexterity to strength. As his muscles swelled and he felt a surge of vigor, he yanked and pulled on those bones, eliciting wet crunches and cracks as the cartilage and bone cracked and tore. When the hole was big enough, he plunged his fist into the opening and dug until he wrapped his fingers around the huge, stiff muscle of the creature’s heart.
Victor tugged and jerked, but the damn thing wouldn’t come loose. In frustration, he let his rage loose into his pathways, and as his vision reddened and his anger began to mount, he gave in and cast Iron Berserk. His fist was still closed around the heart, and as he exploded with size, mass, and power, he roared and yanked, ripping the heart out of the creature with a triumphant bellow. Bits of flesh, blood, and bone showered down as he beheld the glistening prize in his fist. His chest heaved with the effort, and his mouth began to salivate at the sight.
A soft crackling sound distracted him enough to look away from the heart. Looking down, he saw that the wampyr’s corpse was slowly blackening further, and as the flesh fell off, he saw the bones had become like blackened coals with orange embers burning their way out from the inside. The creature was burning to ash before his eyes! Even in his rageful state, Victor wasn’t dumb, and when he felt the heart growing hot in his hand, he understood what was happening—his trophy would burn up and join the rest of the wampyr as it dissolved. Without a second thought, he opened his titanic jaws and bit the organ in half, choking it down as quickly as he could before stuffing the other half in.
Beneath his rage, Victor felt satisfaction; even in death, Dunstan had tried to cheat him of his due, but he’d acted quickly and decisively. He wanted to laugh, roar, and taunt Dunstan’s departing spirit, but his mouth was full, and he could feel the flesh trying to ignite despite his efforts. It was hot, like he’d gulped a ladle of boiling soup, but he didn’t care. He was Flame-Touched and a child of the Quinametzin. Hot flesh wouldn’t dissuade him. Victor chomped the rest of the meaty, bitter heart and swallowed it down. As it ignited in his belly, he lifted his head and roared into the enormous cavern. Echoes responded—titans roaring back to him, and he smiled at the sound as he fell to his knees, then tilted backward as darkness took him.
#
In the light of dawn, Valla looked out again over the castle’s ramparts. She saw nothing but a blackened, twisted wasteland that surrounded the keep. She walked the parapets, looking in every direction for signs of the undead, for signs of other enemies, and, most of all, for signs of Victor. The fires had come an hour after sunset and burned with the fury of mythical hells—walls of flame that rose hundreds of feet into the air, higher than the tallest trees surrounding the keep. If there hadn’t been half a mile of damp, misty grass between the forest and the keep, she wasn’t sure even the Pyromancers and Wind Casters could have saved them. They might have cooked to death inside the stone walls.
As it was, the casters of the Ninth had been taxed, working for hours to funnel the smoke and heat away from the keep while the wall of fire slowly burned its way past them. Valla couldn’t see any undead moving on the scorched fields around the keep, and nothing moved in the blackened forest. She wasn’t surprised; she didn’t know how anything could live through that. Had Victor even made it through? She’d seen him leap and knew he was resistant to fire, but even so, she had a new worry now that she’d seen the fire’s ferocity.
She stopped her tour on the north side of the keep, looking to where the fire had gone, wondering if it had reached the edge of the trees. Had it consumed all the fuel, starved itself, and ended its brief, violent reign of terror? That’s where she stood, hands gripping the black stone parapet with white knuckles, her tension bleeding into her every move when a soft flutter behind her and a sparkle of blue light told her Edeya had found her. “Did Sarl give you the news?” she asked as she settled onto the stone beside her.
“No! Tell me!”
“They rescued the Naghelli, almost all of them. Kethelket brings them here, but he says Victor stayed. He ordered Kethelket to get the Naghelli out while he created a distraction and tried to kill Dunstan.”
“Why are they coming here? We’re only hearing this now?” Valla practically shrieked.
“I asked the same. Ronaga, one of Kethelket’s lieutenants, let me read the message. His people were badly injured, missing their armor and weapons. They were fleeing pursuit, and he knew we couldn’t leave until the fire passed anyway, so he didn’t write immediately. He didn’t want to leave, Valla, but Victor told Kethelket not to let his people die trying to help him. He says . . .”
“Damn him!” Valla interrupted and didn’t know if she was angry at Kethelket or Victor. She turned and reached for her sword hilt, trusting in the spirit within the blade to calm her. She’d yet to awaken it, to hear its conscious thoughts, but she swore she could feel things from it. As she’d hoped, the cool, vibrant Energy within the hilt helped to ground her. “Go on.”
“He says that his people need to recover, but he wants to join you and the Ninth in taking Dunstan’s keep. He says that the keep’s defenders are weakened whether Victor wins or not. He says it may not be too late to help Victor.” Edeya stopped speaking and watched Valla’s face, and when Valla’s emotions and thoughts spun out of control, and she struggled to find a response, Edeya said, “Let’s claim this keep right now and march! Leave a hundred soldiers to hold it with Kethelket’s wounded people.”
Edeya’s words were like a slap in the face, snapping her out of it. Of course! They needed to march! Victor might be in trouble, might need her help. Despite her conscious thought, a tiny voice in the back of her mind said, “Or he might be dead.” She scowled, squelching that dissenting fragment of her mind, and started jogging for the nearest stairway. “Let’s go! I’ll meet you by the System stone!”
