CHAPTER 60 - TWIN CITIES
There was no avoiding it. The time had arrived. In one last draw of spirited breath, Axion charged back into the fray. He forced himself to confront the downtown area after all this time neglecting it. He never expected to take this long. Luckily, the consequences were not severe, thanks to Galastad’s quick thinking. Now most of the city folk were saved, the remaining few making their way to the eastern city limits. What was left were the brave souls still fighting the good fight. At this point they must have assumed they would be left for dead; but no, not while Axion still drew breath, not under the banners of the Arkenoir house, here in the North. It was not the way of the Pride.
The remaining force were a mere handful of soldiers, royal guard, Metuchen cavalry, and pride militia all mixed together. They used what was left of the big buildings to funnel the enemy pushing them in from the coast, their backs to the retreat; bless each of their souls. At this point the dark force was overflowing into the city. Just like on the coast, it was impossible to keep them together behind the retreat. The hunter nipped at the heel of its prey. From the side streets and alleyways rogue pirates and darksiders picked away at the retreating soldiers. Their numbers would soon dwindle past the point where it made a difference anymore. After that they would be snuffed out. Axion had to do something big.
It was as though Huntross could feel the pull in Axion’s heart. The horse broke out into an all-out sprint. Axion instinctively reached for his spear, but there was nothing clipped to the saddle. He quickly looked around at the carnage, pinpointed a replacement spear, and steered Huntross into a path where he could pick it up with ease. Axion examined it briefly, but he could tell by the weight that this was a spear from the Zepathorum royal guard. He swung it around and remembered his mounted training drills. Then an idea popped into his mind.
Axion lifted himself up slightly from the saddle. Huntross wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, so he galloped even harder. A slight pinch of worry crawled up the back of his neck as Axion wondered if he could successfully perform this type of maneuver at such a velocity. This horse really was something else. Axion took a deep breath and found his nerve. He jumped up, releasing his feet from the stirrups and landing them on the saddle, all the while holding the reins in his left hand and the spear in his right. Axion had a good balance on it. Huntross was an unstoppable force, unflinching, unwavering. Axion slid himself slightly down the left side of Huntross. He was practically laying out now, holding the reins tightly, as the street rushed by underneath him.
Right before the darksiders collided with the retreating soldiers in yet another wave, Axion yanked the reins on Huntross causing him to jerk left and come to a sudden halt. The momentum carried Axion into the air towards the enemy. He spun the spear around over his head as he flew overhead, catching the darksiders off guard, felling each and every enemy to come in contact with his spearhead as he flipped. The launch found its natural crest and Axion came crashing down. He got his feet back under his body to brace for a landing. Axion brought the spear down onto another foe, softening his fall. He swiftly took the spear out of the corpse and threw it through the air, nailing two darksider by the heads to a stone wall.
Axion drew his sword and took a step forward. The darksiders that were left flinched at the prince’s brutality. These beasts feared him? Or was that not fear in their eyes. They regarded Prince Axion’s brutality. In that time, it allowed him to rejoin his ranks.
The remaining militiamen, so battle-fatigued and devoid of hope, reignited at the sight of their prince coming to the rescue. Prince Axion rubbed shoulders with the surviving protectors of Port Caliber and their hearts swelled with pride. Everything they fought for led them to this moment. They made their final stand with the would-be king. Huntross came trotting up behind him. Axion helped one of his soldiers carry another with an amputated leg. It must’ve been done on the field. Axion gave them his mount and smacked Huntross on the hindside, sending him galloping away towards the rest of the retreat convoy. Axion stood with the last of the men who fought for Port Caliber.
Another bout with the enemy was upon them. Axion put both hands on his sword and called out to his men to charge. They met the dark troopers blow for blow, Axion did his best to keep his men alive. Killing the enemy met little to nothing here. All they had to do was get out of the city alive. Only a couple more blocks and the district would give way to the fields between here and the stables. Part of Axion wished he told Galastad and Jericho to come back to secure his return. Hopefully the exodus will be so massive they will have no choice but to get caught in its wake. Though the sweat on his brow, the wetness under his hair that could not be mistaken for rain, pointed to panic…panic and fatigue. At every glance back he could steal from the dire situation at hand there were no signs of relief.
Axion put down a devilish pirate trying to take advantage of his blind spot, with a rusty dagger no less. As the wounded pirate fell he tossed the ruddy dagger up. Axion caught it and threw it into the head of another pirate clawing on a soldier’s back. These dragon kingdom natives really were wretched scum. Axion kicked another in the chest and rammed his sword through a shield, throwing both away and jumping onto the darksider. His own troops stopped retreating and surrounded Axion as he pummeled the darksider. Axion punched his head in with his fists. He let his rage take over. His sight turned red, but not from the blood splattering everywhere. A deep pull took hold of Prince Axion, he didn’t feel regal at all, in this moment. He felt like the bringer of death. He was a machine of murder, bringing devastation to his enemy. They got the prince back up and continued their retreat, someone even got his sword. Axion began to lose his commander’s resolve. This day was getting the best of him. He wiped his brow with his cloak. It was more for the gesture of shaking it off since the rain had drenched the cloak through and through.
He helped his men defend another wave. Two militia men fell at the hands of archers in the alleyways, or wait no. Axion tracked them farther up. The enemy had found their way into a building.
“Spears!”
A few sailed into the air and only one hit his target. Axion sighed and held out his hand.
“SPEAR!”
Someone put a Metuchen spear in his hand. He smiled and sent it sailing into the air. A few seconds later and a body fell from the building. He called a couple more spears to be thrown and did his best. Some of his men fired their own arrows. In all his efforts he could not keep his men from continuing to fall. They were running out of time, and they were moving too slow. Axion was running out of moves. Why did he send Galastad and Jericho off so quickly? He needed to always be prepared with a contingency plan.
Thankfully for him, he was surrounded by people who thought just like him at times. For Jericho, it would just be a continuation of the same strategy he deployed at the stables. He returned with Demeter, each on their own mounts and accompanied by riderless horses, having known exactly where to find them. At this point the numbers had dwindled enough to accommodate them comfortably.
Only a couple men had to ride together, but they were mostly wounded and needed help to stay upright. Jericho led them out of the downtown area and into the fields of the eastern city limits, where they ran right into the fleeing masses. The evacuation was slow but working gradually. Very soon they would be overrun. At the rate they were going in contrast to how long it took to get a safe distance on horseback…Axion did the math in his head. There was a solid chance they could get away.
As refugees entered the gates of Zepathorum for some time now, the lines to get in were starting to form and back up all the way to the road between cities. It was not yet significant enough to stop the pace of the retreat, but if left unresolved it could prove to be an issue.
The road home was not as short as it could be in times like these. After maneuvering all the way up the line, he circled back and found the soldiers atop his new blond companion. They quickly traded places. Axion patted the horse’s fur next to his mane.
“Did you miss me?”
Huntross gave a soft nay.
Axion traveled back to the end of the line, he now had a good sense of what was left. The words were on the tip of his lips, but he could not call attention to it just yet, anything could happen still. Axion looked around and found himself once again amongst his compatriots. He met up with Anilithyìstad, Galastad, Mercinestor, Cipher, and Mortikahn, with the rest of the surviving soldiers, and despicable Demeter, all on horses. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
“Where is Jericho!?” Anilithyìstad pointed out.
A good question: Jericho was off his horse out on the western fields, defending a fleeing family from some renegade sailors. One stray pack of survivors who had fallen behind. How did Jericho spot them? He was getting flanked when Anilithyìstad and Mortikahn dropped formation to help him. Mortikahn jumped off his horse and tackled two of the sailors. Once his son was safely on the floor, Anilithyìstad shot two arrows in the back of their heads.
Jericho had found Denison and his mother, he battled back and forth to save them. Mortikahn got up and helped his cousin brace for another wave of darksiders. They fought together bravely, but they were both exhausted. Before Anilithyìstad could help them, Mortikahn was tripped, and the dark soldiers piled on top of him. Jericho managed to get Denison’s mother on his horse, but when he went to lift the boy up, his wounded arm gave out.
Anilithyìstad moved in and finished quickly. No time to waste, he dropped his enemies. Anilithyìstad reached through the wretched pile of death and pulled his arm back, with it came his son. He lifted Mortikahn out of the carnage. His forehead split open, gushing with blood.
“Gods, boy. Your mother is going to kill me.”
Jericho had to parry suddenly and barely pulled it off, only he lost his sword in the process. Denison looked at his mother and the brave knight who was giving every bit of himself to defend her. Denison picked up Jericho’s sword, barely able to lift it upright, and charged at the remaining darksider. Patronalus’ sake…He was just a kid.
“NO!” screamed Jericho, with the last of his might as the black rains along with the darksiders consumed Denison in attack position and continued after his mother on the horse. Anilithyìstad and Mortikahn wrangled the reins of Jericho’s horse just in time. Altogether in one fluid motion, Mortikahn cradled the reins of his cousin’s horse and Anilithyìstad got both horses into a gallop. They fled with the rest of the exodus, leaving poor Denison behind. His mother couldn’t bear to look, having lost her entire family today. Jericho’s wet face scoured over the rolling hills, looking for the poor kid. He was lost.
Axion rode ahead of the retreating army. He took a hard right turn and came around towards the port city to survey the damage. It was burning, and the smoke emitting off of the broken city skyline was mixing with the rising black cloud in the sky. The rain was letting up. The storm was over, for now…
Axion reached the gates of Zepathorum. He galloped through the Gatehouse where Commander Cel’a was talking to Mercinestor and Cipher.
“My wife!” Mercinestor insisted, “Has she made it to the capital?”
“Lady Casterosi is safe, my lord. You can be at ease. My troops told me of the state of Castel Rosi Island when they secured her. They said it was in shambles, upended. What happened to you?”
Mercinestor took a deep breath. He looked away from Cel’a and put his hand on her shoulder.
“After the trial we discovered a spy within our estate keepers. Cipher confronted her as she attempted to sabotage the cor. In the scramble the entire island was transported to the Corscape…wh…erm…where he was waiting for us!”
As soon as Cel’a noticed Axion listening in, she turned to him and bowed.
“I’ve ordered the guards inside to cover the last leg of the retreat, your highness.”
Axion heard Cipher screaming above him. “Archers! Ready! …Fire!”
“I lost my spear, commander,” said Axion. He tried to make her at ease with a common barracks saying.
She returned the gesture. “I trust you lost it in a worthy place?”
“The worthiest of places, my enemy’s face.”
“Then your spear is not lost. It merely met its noble end.”
Just like Axion, to be a soldier first. Maybe that’s what Cel’a admired most about the prince, a trait they both shared.
“We will have to talk, Cel’a, but for now, I trust you have taken the proper precautions for the coming siege.”
Cel’a thought it might be a question. To her surprise, it appeared to be a statement of fact as Prince Axion rushed upstairs to the observation deck of the Gatehouse, where Cipher was commanding the archers and trebuchets. The last of the army made it back to the city safely as the artillery rained down a barrier of death behind them. The city remained clear of the darksiders, for now.
Axion patted Cipher on the back. They didn’t look at each other. But there was a mutual feeling of success…no that wasn’t it, relief? Maybe it was safety. The bottom line was, they again had control over the situation, for the time being. Axion went with Anilithyìstad who brought Mortikahn into the Citadel to be looked after. Jericho escorted Denison’s mother to safety.
Galastad took a break from helping the wounded troops and sat down on the corner of a Zepathorum city block, alone. He was soaking wet from the storm. Galastad took refuge in the calm after the storm. For a passing moment he could feel good, refreshed in the winds. The heat would soon come back, followed closely by the shadowed storm. He sat, alone, with the townsfolk of the Pride, his brown war-stained leather tunic sticking out along the busy city streets.
Axion felt comfortable enough leaving his people in command to head up the Citadel. He ran, still coursing with adrenaline from the battle, up the spiraling staircase back to his chambers where his mother was waiting.
“Oh, Axion! It’s you! I knew it! I was so worried,” Queen Adyána confessed as she embraced her eldest son.
Axion quickly told her of how the city fell and how they will soon be surrounded. He began to hyperventilate.
“We have to get Mitakahn. Mitakahn needs to get back. His exile has been overturned. He must know what’s happened, Mother!”
The prince went on and on, trying to look out the window to spot the massing dark army at Caliber.
“Axion, please relax, look at me. Your brother will find his own way back. No piece of paper will keep him from doing what’s right. We can only focus on what lies ahead of us.”
A nefarious ship docked on the shores of the fallen port city, one different from all the others, grander. Its sails dropped as they prepared to make camp. Out of the ship, aside from all the servants and warriors walked another commander of the fleet, a resentful comrade of the darkness known as the Emissary crawled out onto the dock.
He was cloaked in slick shadow, his face covered. A harness on his chest, strapped on with diagonal leather strips going over his shoulders and around his sides, came together right at the center holding a sparkling gem, like an inverted diamond, reminiscent of the Carbon Terra. The smoldering gem vibrated and emitted a low hum. His servants brought out giant throbbing eggs with dark veins, surging, ready to hatch. The Dragon Kingdom acolytes sunk their rotten teeth into Caliber, collaborating their efforts to take over the rest of the Pride. The final judgment of the Lion Kingdom was at hand.
Admiral Zorrowfold walked out of their stronghold at sea port village. The sand surrounding the pier whooshed and swirled around the admiral in his once-clean black officer’s jacket with amethyst embroidery and buttons going down the middle in a uniform pattern. He stood there unflinching, hands firmly grasping each other behind his back. The sand stopped when the wind from the dragon’s wings stopped.
Fathom landed and flopped over, absolutely exhausted. Zora dismounted to check on her dragon. The poor thing had been flying non-stop for days. Odds were he would now sleep for days. The Dark Lord Malinor returned to Port Caliber, the day already won. He was not impressed. Malinor had no doubt his invasion force was unstoppable. Aside from the enormous setback Casterosi caused, Malinor still had all of the momentum. Thousands of his darksiders fell and it didn’t even matter. He had an entire army waiting to deploy.
Port Caliber was easy to take. Zepathorum City will pose the biggest threat possibly in all of MagnaThora. The capital city had legendary fortifications. The Dark Lord Malinor had his own grand designs for his siege that some might consider unorthodox, techniques he developed with the help of the mad genius Spangalore and the Emissary. Like the coward Demeter said…they were attacking on every level. Some levels would unapologetically violate the limits of conventional warfare.
Queen Adyána finished bandaging her nephew’s head. She walked away from Mortikahn on the bed and Jericho brooding in the corner. She walked by the Casterosi family hugging, Lord Mercinestor, Cipher, and his mother Lady Azuza. Commander Cel’a accompanied Queen Adyána outside on the balcony as she joined Anilithyìstad and Axion. She shivered, scared of the days to come. Axion excused himself and immediately returned with her crimson cloak. It was good to have him back. He did the best anyone could ask of a prince or a king today, given the circumstances. Anilithyìstad put his hand on Axion’s shoulder. He couldn’t be any prouder of his oldest nephew.
“All we can do now,” Adyána told her family, “is keep our eye on the light…”
“No matter how dark the days to come get.”
“Help is on the way, sister.”
“It won’t be enough.”
“We need Mitakahn.”
End of Part Four