The Duelist 3, page 9
Another burst of trumpeting sounded near the Palace followed by the deep juddering howl that signaled more of the scourge had piped up from the earth somewhere, and I returned my gaze to the crimson sky.
“I am honored,” Redburn said.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright here?” I asked.
“I have a decent armory, I will be fine,” he said and saluted me again. “Fight well.”
And with that, Prosper and I took to the sky once more.
“Follow the sound of the trumpets, Props,” I said as I patted the side of the canterfly’s neck before I urged us forward.
More and more bursts of herald trumpets rang out as we flew closer, and when we eventually passed over the palace square, I found out what Ambassador Sskern probably meant when he said ‘Herald Frenzy.’
Ashers of all sorts were broken up into clusters as several bipedal demons over six-feet tall fought off three men at a time.
I’d never seen so many heralds before, and my eyes rapidly scanned for any signs of Horus. Surely, if the falcon-man was being manipulated into gaining herald cores for an adversary similar to the Merc Clans, he would have been led straight here by his weird ‘spidey-sense.’ However, there was too much chaos on the ground for me to discern anyone with accuracy.
I needed to get closer.
“Prosper, find us someplace to land,” I said.
The butterfly-pegasus whistled through his coiled snout and began to circle around for a landing.
We were so focused on looking at the ground that my mount and I almost missed the giant monstrosity that flew directly over us.
“Holy fuck!” I screamed, and Prosper swerved to the side with a distressed huff. “What the fuck is that?”
A bloated demon the shape and size of one of those car lot sales balloons was flying on two wings that didn’t even look capable of sustaining the creature’s flight given how moth-eaten they looked. Instead of the usual Predator-esque bifurcated mandible and tentacles on its back, this ugly motherfucker’s mass of writhing appendages made up the lower part of its face.
“Brightwood!” Lord Mec called from the ground, and I wildly looked for the owner of that familiar voice.
The ram-lord was located in the upper quadrant of the Square and was waving at me with both hands, sword and all.
“Gavlain!” I shouted back.
“Don’t let it get to the Sun Temple!” he shouted and then pointed to the majestic temple the bloated beast was flying toward. “It will poison the Sacred Pools!”
I nodded, and Prosper seemed to pick up on our destination because he sprinted after the flying demon as I reached for the crossbow strapped to my back.
Zoie did say it was a very old weapon, and when she had me add it to my ensemble, she specifically told me it was just for show because of its ornate and antiquated design.
The heft of it in my hands felt foreign compared to the crossbow I used to defeat Archus Doler, but apparently, when I passed out from the remnants of his bogus curse, I dropped the weapon and busted it.
Just my luck, but there was no use in griping about it now when the Goodyear Blimp’s aborted cousin was starting to slobber its toxic-looking gunk down on the people below.
“Make way!” I warned them as I snapped off one of two tarnished silver bolts clipped to the side of the stock and held it between my teeth so I could have both hands free. Then I put the toe of my boot through the cocking stirrup on the end, pulled back the string until it latched, and notched the bolt in its proper place despite the fact it was missing one of its decorative feathers.
The minute I took aim, and every minute where I tried afterward, the creature either shot straight up, or sank rapidly like a stone as if it sensed what I was up to.
When I squeezed the trigger on my first attempt, I could already tell my aim was off mostly due to the poor calibration of the weapon itself. However, now that I had the feel for it, I loaded the second bolt with more confidence.
I took aim once more and timed it right, but when the trigger was pulled, the ancient string snapped, which caused my last bolt to fly sharply to the left.
The breath left me in a rush as the overwhelming despair of how much my failure to take the demon down probably just cost all of Aventoll. This beast was going to literally ‘poison the watering hole,’ and that bolt was the last chance.
Maybe it was the sudden impact of these thoughts racing through my head in under a second, but I had somehow managed to slip directly into a time-trance where almost everything but Prosper and I were frozen.
No.
Not a time-trance. I actually managed the rarer time-stop.
“Woah,” I said as Prosper hovered confusedly in mid-air for a moment. “I’ve only done this one other time, boy, so we have to be quick because I don’t know how long I can hold it. Get us to that bolt!”
The canterfly whistled in acknowledgment and streaked through the stagnant atmosphere where the silver glint of the bolt with white straggly feathers could be seen heading off into the horizon.
I telegraphed to my mount how I wanted him to get me as close to the bolt as possible, and he complied by hovering alongside the frozen projectile.
It was eerie seeing it vibrate from containing its energy, and when I reached out with my left hand to try and nudge it back toward my intended target, I yanked my arm back at the sharp zing that ran up to my elbow.
“Fuck,” I said and shook out my hand.
One of the barbed wire fences at the ranch I was seasonally employed at was wired with electricity one year to keep away the coyotes. I accidentally grabbed onto it for a millisecond and was lucky to have someone standing there to immediately shut the power off. But the shock that hit me was enough for me to never forget about the damn fence ever again.
Trying to grab the bolt was a little like that.
I flexed my wrists and fingers, cracked my neck from side to side, and then gripped the thing with both of my bare hands.
Instantly, the sensation of a thousand fire ants on ice skates raced up and down the nerve tracks in both of my arms.
Part of me wanted to scream, especially when the scar around my forearm throbbed so fiercely under my vambrace I feared it would just fall off.
But little by little, the stubborn bolt began to inch over, and by the time it was where I wanted it, sweat was pouring in rivulets down my face and back, and I was gasping for air.
Time snapped back, and I watched a little dazed as the bolt found its home right where the demon’s right wing was connected to its spherical body.
The beast screeched as it tumbled out of the sky, and instead of reaching the Sacred Tithe Pools up above, it crashed into the front where the statue of the Goddess Mercedes guarded the entrance.
“Down!” I commanded, and Prosper and I came in for a landing at the bottom of the Temple’s steps.
At the top where the demon’s stinking body laid, Duelists were already in the process of killing it, and I was too wiped to make myself climb up there and help.
Then the oppressive redness of the Demon Moon abruptly vanished, and with it, any of the Scourge that didn’t die by an Asher’s hand.
I noticed most of the lesser-demons had been absorbed back into the earth like clay figures, which meant it was safe to assume the piles of ash were all the herald demons during the Frenzy.
A huge cheer swept through the people gathered in front of the Temple, and more than a few people surrounded Prosper and me with congratulations and hearty back-slapping. At that moment, it was more than a little overwhelming.
“Give him some air!” the thundering voice of Lord Mec finally sliced through the rabble, and the Duelists spread out so the tall man could make his way closer to me with a proud smile. “Alex, my friend. You have managed to save us all from a most devastating tragedy. If that demon would have dumped its bile in the Sacred Pool, it would have ruined the pure waters.”
“What’s the damage like?” a concerned voice piped up from somewhere in the crowd. “Is the Temple sound?”
“The beast took out the Sacred Stair,” another man with the horns of an oryx said as he jogged down the Temple steps.
A lot of gasping and dismayed noise could be heard throughout the group at the news about the spiral staircase. Without it, no one could reach the Temple’s tithe pool.
“We tried to retract the Stair back into the floor before it hit, so it’s the top half that got caught in the fray,” the oryx-man continued to explain.
“Wait, but the Tithing Ceremony is in a few short days!” another Duelist said as he stepped forward. “How will we ascend to her sacred waters?”
“The Omites will surely help us repair the Stair,” the oryx-man said optimistically.
“They will not be able to finish in time,” a craggy voice argued above the chattering, and the crowd instantly silenced as a tall owl-like man with large yellow eyes and strands of greasy gray hair ascended the Temple’s steps so he could address everyone. “Our most sacred of days is almost upon us, but the Evil of Evils has once again arisen to rob us of our Light.”
A solemn hush spread through the crowd, and I could tell the familiar owl-man held his entire audience captive.
“But we are the Noblest of the Noble, and we shall not be beaten, am I right?” he roared, and the Duelists all roared back. “That is right, friends! Comrades! We will not be beaten.”
“But what about the Ceremony, Magistrate Vane?” the oryx-man asked. “We need our tithes for the coming Dry Season.”
“Very true, our situation is most dire,” Vane said as he stroked his stubbled chin with a finger gnarled with arthritis. “I humbly propose the use of my own personal fountain at my estate. It is of ample space and filled with only the purest water, however, it needs the Blessing to make it a tithe pool.”
“What you propose has never been done,” Ambassador Sskern said as he threw his two cents into the mix.
“You’re right, Ambassador,” Vane addressed. “It is unprecedented, but I think you can agree with me when I say we are living in unprecedented times, and needs must be met. Wouldn’t you agree, Lord Mec?”
The ram-lord had been silent as he watched the owl-man like a hawk while the man blathered on and on. He briefly narrowed his gaze but replied back in a mild voice.
“You are correct, Gella, we are living in strange times.” He folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head. “Your offer is most generous. I do know how you value your privacy.”
“It is but a small hardship, milord,” he said and bowed low. “Although, if you and the Council allow it, I will be needing the services of your wife to bless the waters.”
Mec took another beat to eye the owl-man from head to toe.
I could tell he was suspicious of the man, but he was in a tough position to appease his people.
They all depended on getting their tithes so they could do things like drink and water their crops with clean water, and for the first time, I really understood the burden the Asher Lord carried around with him.
“What Magistrate Vane proposes is noble,” the ram-lord said out over his gathered people. “We shall have the Ceremony in Gatetown.”
Another rowdy cheer rippled through the crowd at Mec’s proclamation and set off a chain-reaction of merry-making that was quickly going to turn into a rager I did not want to be caught in the middle of.
Before I could try and extract myself from the mosh pit, Mec gripped my shoulder.
“Alex, are you well?” he asked. “I saw you move the bolt, or rather, saw you move too fast to the naked eye. You expended a great deal of energy.”
I felt a little weary, and my right arm was sore, but other than that, I was still standing.
“I’m good, Gav,” I said with a tired smile and bro-punched him in the shoulder. “But if I never see another one of those things again, I will die a happy man.”
“I share your sentiment,” the ram-lord chuckled.
“Beg pardon, Ashers,” Ambassador Sskern said as he walked up to us. “But there is something I need you to see, Gavlain. Brightwood, too.”
“What is it, Sskern?” Mec asked with a tilt of his shaggy head.
Instead of answering, the lizard-man skirted the edge of the crowd so he could lead us around to the back of the Sun Temple.
“Sorry for the detour, milords, but I don’t want us to be noticed by going through the front,” Sskern shot over his shoulder as he led us toward a side door where there was thankfully a hitch and trough full of water for Prosper.
The ram-lord and I exchanged concerned looks and simultaneously picked up our pace.
When we entered the main lower chamber of the Sun Temple, the ash and debris from the destruction of the revolving stone staircase were a devastating sight to the once beautiful sanctuary.
“Good Goddess, what a mess,” Mec said as he kicked a rock away with his boot. “Why all the secrecy, Sskern?”
“According to Cleric Golan, the Temple’s Keeper, some kind of explosion took place when he was in the middle of operating the mechanism that retracts the Stair into the floor,” the lizard-man began to explain.
“That’s right, masters!” A man about Jenner’s height with the portly features of a hedgehog suddenly scurried out from behind what was left of the spiraling stone staircase. “I ran from my humble parsonage when I saw the flying scourge head for the Temple, and I had just started lowering the Stair when the mechanism stalled. It’s never done that before in all the times I’ve been here, so I walked out to investigate when that beast crashed through the front door.”
“What are you getting at, Golan?” Mec urged but not unkindly.
“Milord, it might have seemed like the beast is to blame for the destruction, but you must believe me when I say the demon wasn’t even close to the Stair before it exploded!” the hedgehog-man exclaimed as he waved his arms so rapidly the sleeves of his long brown tunic fell over his hands. “Look at the dust!”
With one sleeve, Golan pointed to the ash pile where the flying demon had disintegrated after it was ashed by the Duelists, and sure enough, the line stopped short of the actual staircase by at least two meters.
“Did the mechanism fail?” Mec asked with a thunderous scowl.
“It is of the most sophisticated Omite craftsmanship,” Golan said, and his incredulous tone broadcasted his obvious opinion on the matter.
“What then, sabotage?” I chimed in.
“Exactly!” Golan said as he jabbed a sleeve-covered finger in my direction.
“This is most distressing, indeed,” Mec rumbled as his scowl deepened. “Can I leave it to you, Golan, to investigate this matter for me? If you find anything that supports this, come straight to the Palace. I’ll make sure to let my advisers know to let you in day or night.”
“Come on, Gavlain,” Sskern hissed with his forked tongue. “You know who is likely to be responsible. I don’t believe that old bird would have offered all of Aventoll the use of his personal fountain unless he had something more to gain.”
“You’re talking about Gella Vane,” I said.
“You also suspect him of less than pure intentions, Brightwood?” Sskern asked.
“I just know his involvement seems to crop up a lot when things go sour lately,” I said with a shrug.
“Thank you both for bringing this to my attention,” the ram-lord said to both the ambassador and the keeper. “From this point forward, the three of us will be the only ones who are investigating this matter. Breathe not a word of this to anyone outside these walls. If Gella is behind this somehow, he has many spies spread throughout the isle, and we will lose our only advantage over him if he knows we suspect him. For my part, I’ll be sure to assuage the Council in regards to going along with Gella’s plan to host the Ceremony in Gatetown.”
“What do you want me to do?” I asked.
“You need to keep working on meditation and practicing with your shield,” he said as he squeezed my shoulder again. “I have a feeling I’m going to need you in top mental and physical shape in the coming days, my friend.”
“By the way, excellent shot, lad,” the lizard-man said with a toothy grin stretching his scaly lips.
“That was you who felled the beast?” little Golan squeaked and rushed up to me so he could shake my hand with both of his cloth-covered ones. “The Goddess and I thank you for protecting the Sacred Waters!”
“Um, sure,” I chuckled at the hedgehog-man’s enthusiasm as my arm was nearly rattled out of its socket. “No problem.”
“Come, let us leave before someone notices our absence,” the Asher Lord said. “Golan, thank you for your devotion to the Sun Temple, and keep your eyes peeled.”
“Milord,” he said and saluted with his fist over his heart.
The ram-lord returned the gesture and then led Sskern and me back the way we came to the side alley where I left Prosper.
“I must go, but I will meet with you later, Gavlain,” the lizard-man said when we were all outside.
“Later, my friend,” Mec said as the two of them gripped forearms.
“Brightwood, a rousing fight as always,” Sskern added as he saluted me with respect.
“Good seeing you, Ambassador,” I said and thumped my fist against my own heart.
Then the lizard-man was off slinking away through the alleys like a svelte shadow.
“One more thing, Alex,” Mec said as I mounted Prosper. “My sisters will be here to make their assessment the eve of the Ceremony, so you must get word to Horus to meet us at the Battle Hall after the tithing is done.”
“I’ll make sure to send him a message,” I said.
“Good.” He nodded and rummaged around in his cloak for something. “You made me proud today, Alex. A little bumblebird told me you are attempting to experiment with herald cores, and I managed to find something that may be of interest to you whenever you begin that process.”
From one of his inner pockets, the ram-lord pulled out a cloth-wrapped package.
“What is it?” I asked as I took the object from him, but before I could open it, Mec placed one of his large hands over mine.
