Light of Epertase 01: Legends Reborn (43 page)

High up on Shadows Peak, Tevin opened his crusty eyelids. He had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there, let alone how long he had been unconscious. He looked around. A cave! He was in a cave. His brain stabbed at itself like the worst hangover he’d ever had. The light hurt his eyes so he buried his face in his hands.

An image flashed through his mind.
Siver!

He clenched his left fist, then his right, remembering a time not too distant when they weren’t equally strong. He recalled another face.
Rasi.
The memories flooded through his mind faster than he could comprehend them. He remembered the all-encompassing fire and the feelings that followed.

He took a step and his legs, both of them, burned with power. He took another step and his body came to life with an unbelievable energy beneath his skin. He was stronger than ever before.

The cave was mostly quiet except for a strange distant thunder echoing from behind the cave. He listened closer.
No. It wasn’t thunder. It was explosions – the types of explosions caused by war. Elijah! The war has begun.

The air was bitter but he hardly noticed, almost high with the burn inside him. His feet barely made contact with the ground as he exited the cave.

He began the long walk down the mountain path, letting his mind wander to when he was a boy in Tiffin. He remembered the bullies and, finally, everything made sense. Their accusations of his great-great aunts, their taunts about his great-great grandmother and how she had been banished to the wastelands for witchcraft-fraud, everything came together. But it wasn’t fraud. They were indeed witches and they passed their gift through the generations. Elijah’s fire had unleashed their magic within him and may the gods help anyone who stood in his way.

Elijah and I will rule forever. The Light will never leave us. This I vow.

Rasi stared at the broken and bloodied bodies that surrounded him. The soulless eyes of the fallen stared back and he wondered if he could ever forgive himself even if the gods eventually did.

Warm Epertasian blood flowed past his feet, stopped only by dams of massacred corpses. The stink of death permeated the air and he feared he would never be free of it. The hair on his arms matted together in clumps of blood, some dried and some fresh. He sucked in lungfuls of oxygen while watching the Teks prepare for their onslaught.

Dru grabbed his shoulder. “We’re being decimated,” he screamed. “We need to advance.”

Rasi shook his head defiantly. His men fell by the hundreds, maybe thousands, but if he attacked now, he was sure he would lead them to slaughter. But just as painful of a thought was the knowledge that staying in place was an equally futile plan.

The enemy wasn’t weakened enough. Unbelievably, they had already gathered their composure from Epertase’s initial onslaught.

Dru screamed again, “I understand your reserve, Rasi. But we can’t endure much more as it stands. We have to advance. I know these men. They will fight hard.”

Their heart wasn’t what Rasi questioned. He clenched his eyes and gritted his teeth.

He needed more time. It went against all of his meticulous plans, but what choice did he have? He nodded his head, defeated, fearing he had doomed them all. He didn’t have more time.

Dru blared into the tusk with all of his might. Then he screamed, “Chaaaaaaaarge,” until his voice broke like a pubescent teenager’s. A collective battle cry reverberated from his naïvely gung-ho men. The ground rumbled with their footsteps.

All along Havens Ravine, the bridges filled with Epertasian warriors, met by their Tek counterparts. The bridges creaked and swayed and threatened to crumble. Teks and Epertasians alike hurtled over the sides to their deaths, only to be replaced by more warriors.

Epertasian mothers should be proud of their sons this day.

The front line of Teks bustled with activity. They wheeled thousands of horse-sized catapults to the edge of the ravine, forming a wall of sorts. All of the metal catapults cocked back as one and then sprang forward, hurling thousands of armored Tek soldiers across the ravine. Rasi watched, helpless, as they soared over his head. Their steel crashed against Epertasian steel as the armored Teks slammed like boulders into waves of Epertasian forces, knocking them to the ground. The Teks bounced to their feet and engaged.

The catapults flew again; another thousand soldiers collided.

With their human payloads delivered, next the catapult operators knelt and pointed weapons that were similar to their death-making sticks, only much larger.

A chorus of clanks rang out. Metal spears attached to stiff chain ladders rocketed from the ends of their weapons, embedding into the dirt and rock of the Epertasian side.

Dru pointed and screamed, “They’re coming across. Knock out those chains.”

Epertasian soldiers rushed to the edge and dug the ground away with their swords, but the anchors were set to deep. The first waves of Teks came across and were met with Epertasian swords. A lot of them fell, but more of them reached the land and their goal.

Rasi joined the battle, swinging his ineffective sword madly while his straps hurled screaming Teks to the belke slug. More and more Teks poured across the ladders, too many to hold back. Rasi and his men held their ground.

The first Teks were followed by small squads that carried large, wheeled weapons straddled side-by-side along the ladder bridges.

This was it – the battle for Epertase’s future and, though Rasi had hoped to fight it on their side of the ravine, it was what it was.

Along the many wooden bridges, the Teks pushed back the Epertasians. One of the bridges in the distance snapped and collapsed beneath their weight, sending Teks and Epertasians alike to their doom. The satisfied screech of the belke slug echoed from below.

Rasi staggered back to catch his breath. He scanned the battlefield. His men were driven backward. He hadn’t enough troops to withstand the onslaught and he knew it.

On the enemy’s side, the Tek’s explosion-making machines grumbled forward like gigantic snails and repositioned for new attacks. Rasi could only hope they wouldn’t fire with their own men in their sights but from what he knew about their brutality, he was likely wrong. He could only trust his plan. If his strategy was sound, the Teks would soon be out of their black blood. And, if Simcane was as good as the legends told, more of that blood wouldn’t arrive.

T
he faint concussions of war could be heard at the enemy camps where Simcane lie hidden between Tek tents. The rolling fortress in front of where he hid lurched forward. The individual grains of sand around him vibrated and tumbled over one another like millions of scurrying tan ants.

Simcane wasn’t hidden well, especially not for daybreak, so he scrambled for better cover. He chased the wheeled monster, knowing he was in plain sight of any Teks who might be watching. As he caught up to the machine, a Tek exited a nearby tent and looked directly toward him. Simcane froze. And by the gods’ luck, the Tek yawned and turned away.

A thin pipe protruded from the rear of the rolling machine. Simcane grabbed hold and pulled himself tight against the body of the beast.

The skies were more purple than bright that early in the day and maybe that was the reason for his continued success. The waking Teks exited their tents and scurried about their business, more focused on their own tasks than looking for invaders.

The metal walls of the machine rattled violently. His biceps burned and bulged as the mechanical monster unintentionally tried to shake him free. He tightened his numb grip. His teeth clattered. Just as his muscles quivered to their breaking point, the machine let out a frightening squeal and sputtered to a stop. Simcane dropped from its tail and scuttled beneath.

A pair of armorless feet appeared at the monster’s side. “
Knock mei a sul ock.
”

Another set of feet joined the first. “
Com de so laffe.
”

The two Tek workers yanked at levers along the beast’s side, which exposed long tubes from its belly. They stretched the tubes into the dark pit. With another crank of the levers, the machine gurgled and belched, feeding on the black tonic.

Simcane crawled closer to the enemies’ feet. He needed a distraction.

And then, as if on cue, a distant wall of fire ignited into the air. From Simcane’s hidden vantage point, it looked like the world was ablaze. Tek alarms blared throughout the camp site.

Simcane slithered from beneath the machine, his prey preoccupied with their now-frantic task of filling the machine.

The machine shook and cringed and bounced with each sudden pull of the levers. It screamed its satisfaction as black liquid spurted from the couplings. One of the Teks pulled the tube from the pit before shoving it back into the machine with black blood dripping from its end. His partner did the same at the front.

Simcane sprang forward. His foe turned from the levers to slam face-first into the stone wall that was Simcane’s chest. He tried to gasp but Simcane engulfed him in his tree trunk arms like a blanket before lifting him from the ground. The Tek squirmed and kicked and let out a wheeze in place of a scream. Simcane clenched his muscles.

The Tek grunted violently as his spine snapped. His body stiffened briefly and then went limp in Simcane’s arms, his face falling against Simcane’s chest.

The other Tek turned with surprise. He tried to cry for help but Simcane heaved the lifeless body of his partner at him, knocking him to the sand. The Tek managed to let out a scream but the machine was too loud for any help to hear. He struggled to free himself from his dead partner’s weight. Simcane closed the gap. The fight didn’t last long.

One by one, Simcane tossed both bodies into the thick black pit, causing the dark goop to splash into his face. It was bitter on his lips. He wiped the muck from his mouth with his forearm. He glanced at the bodies in the black lake and saw them sink like they were in quicksand.

His pulse quickened; his chest heaved in rising excitement. For a moment he was sorry his actions were hidden from the others by the metal creature between them. Part of him wanted to fight them all.

Another eruption of flames tickled the sky to the north, followed by another wave of thunder. He smiled. His team had done well. Now it was his turn. He knelt, dug into his waist bag, and fished out a clump of japsy weed. He rubbed it between his palms like he was trying to keep warm. The spaces between his fingers glowed, making him scrub faster. The heat radiated into his palms. He was almost there when a blast of searing pain slammed against his back, the blow sending him sprawling to the ground.

The wind escaped his lungs and for an instant he couldn’t breathe. The japsy weed fell into the sand. His shoulder burned as though he’d been struck by a battle hammer. He spun his head to the metal beast’s tail where a single Tek stood, frantically refilling his cylindrical weapon. Simcane dug through the sand until he found his japsy weed. He scrubbed his hands together as he watched the Tek aim his noisy weapon again.

Simcane only needed another moment. The Tek’s instrument flashed. Simcane closed his eyes and hurled his uninjured arm toward the weapon. The Tek’s projectile met his energy blast with a boom, sending a tiny, smashed lead ball harmlessly into the sand.

Simcane rubbed his hands together again.

The Tek dropped his weapon and withdrew his sword. Simcane’s hands glowed white as he kept one eye directed on his charging foe. The Tek raised his sword. Simcane hurled the smoking japsy weed into the pit and dove into the sand beneath the machine.

The air around him sucked toward the pit before exploding into vicious heat and flames. The charging Tek crashed against the side of the machine with force few men could survive. He didn’t. Simcane turned away. The heat singed the tiny hairs on his neck. Along the tent line, Tek feet raced past. Simcane crawled out unnoticed and ready for battle. One of the Tek soldiers rammed into him, said something in Tek, and then continued about his business.