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    Chapter 66


    Scattered & Shattered


    The rak chief’s sword severed Crann’s head from his body.


    Daegan had never seen a man decapitated before. He’d seen executions before, but no one had been beheaded in his lifetime. It was gruesome, the man’s head hurled across the corridor. His body crumpled to the floor, a spray of red blood shooting up to the ceiling. Daegan’s jaw went slack as he dumbly watched the rak chief advance through the corridor of defenders.


    The rak seemed impossibly large in the narrow corridor. His long black hair almost brushed the rafters. The creature’s thick curved sword was as large as a greatsword and he wielded it in one hand. The other clasped a dagger that looked to be made of blood red crystal. The rak’s armour wasn’t steel but instead a thick hide of some kind, it reminded Daegan of the dragonhide armour that Reldoni soldiers wore, only this kind was more crudely fashioned.


    Daegan was at the very rear, being the last to descend into the lower hallways. Tanlor stood guard in front of him. Only six of the remaining of the Twin Garde soldiers stood between them and the rak chief. Of all the ways Daegan thought he’d die, fighting a rak chief, in a cramped corridor, in a Rubanian outpost miles from any civilisation would have been very—very—low down that list. There was no escaping the fact that death was coming. He might not be a seasoned fighter like Tanlor or Rowan but he was competent enough to see they were losing.


    Tanlor had stood his ground against Ferath—twice, in fact. Ferath was able to do things beyond what was considered normal runewielding. He was somehow enhanced and from what Daegan had just seen this rak chief do, he had no doubt that he was the same. Unlike Ferath, the rak was not alone. Daegan couldn’t count how many of the hulking forms were trailing behind their chief, their oversized swords catching the torchlight.


    Daegan met Tanlor’s eye. Surely he also knew that this was the end. Tanlor glanced back at the chief who was now fighting the next pair of soldiers in line. Tanlor’s hand reached towards a torch on the wall and Daegan noted that the man’s face went suddenly flush. Tanlor’s other hand then extended towards the wooden rafters above the rak’s head. Wispy tendrils of smoke began to crawl along the rafters. Plumes of smoke seeped out of the woodwork, conjured by invisible flames.


    Then in a burst of bright light, flames burst out of the wooden beams.


    The rak chief’s offhand—the one wielding the dagger—shot up and the flames disappeared in seconds. Then with his main sword-hand he cut down another soldier.


    “He’s got nowhere to dissipate that heat,” Tanlor grunted, “he can’t risk throwing fire around or everyone in here will burn.”


    “What does that mean?” Daegan asked, he could feel the panic in his own tone. It made his voice shrill and breathless.


    “It means we might still have a chance,” Tanlor then retreated back up the stairs to the door leading to the tower battlements. Daegan followed after him. No way he was just going to wait around to be butchered.


    “Cowards!” He heard one of the soldiers cursing up after them.


    At the doorway they still had a view of the full walkway below and could just about see the chief cutting down another of the soldiers. The other tower top was alight. Like an enormous candle. Daegan’s chest tightened wondering if Rowan had survived the explosion. He could have jumped. Daegan glanced over the edge of the tower. It wasn’t that high of a drop. The towers weren’t much higher than fifty feet, he could survive that, what were the odds? Daegan then considered jumping over the side of the tower himself. It was surely better than the absolute certainty of death by a rak’s blade.


    “We’re jumping?” Daegan asked with a hint of hope.


    “What?” Tanlor looked at him, his face scrunching in confusion, “no,” he scowled in revulsion, “of course, we’re not jumping.”


    Tanlor then pointed an open palm to the burning tower. He dropped his sword and directed the other hand down the stairs. The man’s face knotted in concentration and Daegan realised what he was planning to do. You’re going to flood the corridor with fire. The chief won’t be able to absorb all of it or he’ll be incinerated. He’ll have to withdraw. It wasn’t a perfect plan but it at least gave them a few minutes to plan for an escape. Oh Tanlor, you genius!


    ***


    Tanlor hated that this was the only course of action he could think of. He hated that he was dooming the soldiers facing the rak chief to their fate. It was a sloppy and dangerous use of runewielding that his grandfather would have been utterly disappointed in.


    Within seconds, the flames began to climb along the rafters and every other burnable object in the corridor. The defending soldiers began to back up the stairs as the corridor filled with smoke. But the rak chief didn’t relent, pushing forward in defiance of the flames. The fires seemed to fuel him onward.


    Tanlor could feel the fire scourge his veins as his edir pulled the heat of the flames from the other tower, drew it into his body and expelled it back into the corridor. His mind remained focused on directing the flames onto the rafters above the rak’s head. If he could burn enough of those supports, the ceiling might collapse on him. But the creature was moving too fast, he cut down another of the defenders, pressing forward.


    Tanlor redirected his efforts now to the rak’s sword. His skin prickled with the heat and he knew that he was pulling far beyond what his body could handle, he’d likely already caused himself serious internal burns. Pull too much and you’ll be ash, boy. His grandfather had told him. But if he didn’t, they’d all be killed soon enough anyway.


    He focused on the blade, pouring all the heat he could manage into it. The near constant blaze of the twin tower was the only reason this tactic was even working. He channelled more, and the blade began to glow with an orange hue. The light grew and grew, until it was almost white. At first the rak chief didn’t seem to care about the heated blade, and why would he? A super-heated blade was a foreboding sight to an enemy and could burn an opponent with a light touch. But when the blade gets too hot, the metal starts to soften and—the blade dripped. Red molten blobs of metal began to fall from the blade and the rak dropped the sword and back stepped realising the thing was melting.


    Tanlor didn’t allow himself any time to awe at the feat he’d just done. He looked down at his hands and could see smoke rising from charred blackened skin. Oh fuck. Tanlor felt like he’d just swallowed an entire bottle of whitewhiskey. The heat pulsed inside of him. Tanlor turned his head to see Daegan looking at him with a horrified expression. Tanlor felt as though he had pushed his face into a brazier. His vision grew hazy. He could see Daegan reaching for him before all the colours of the world began to merge together.


    A part of Tanlor’s mind knew that he shouldn’t have over-exerted himself after the healing. His body was still surging with adrenaline from that. He also knew that he should never have pulled so much fire, so quickly. Tanlor knew all of this, and the thoughts drifted across his mind as he slumped into Daegan’s arms. He could smell sulphur. It smelled like a funeral pyre. Is this my pyre? The thought brushed across his fading consciousness.


    He could hear the crackling of flames, and an instinctive part of his mind tried to summon his edir, to force all the excess heat out of his body. Bright after-images of flames danced across his vision.


    He heard a roar from below but couldn’t distinguish if it was a shout of anger or fear before the darkness and the flames claimed him


    ***


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Daegan held Tanlor in his arms. Misty trails of smoke wafted from the man like he was a smouldering fire. Parts of his skin were bright red with cracks of black. The acrid stink of burning flesh overpowered the smell of smoke. Daegan had even thought for a moment that Tanlor’s eyes had been shining red like an Honorswords.


    “Undak Savura’an!” the words came as a low grumble from the murky corridor. “Flame finder…” the same undulating voice said in deeply accented common-tongue. An accent that Daegan couldn’t place even if he tried to.


    “Surrender the flame and live,” the voice growled.


    Daegan awed that the rak could even speak. He knew that was a silly thing to be surprised about, but they simply weren’t human. Speech was such a human thing that it seemed bizarre that these creatures could. There were only two other soldiers left, separating Daegan from the rak chief. The pair had backed up the stairs and exchanged worried glances. Whether it was because the rak was speaking or because they were next to be butchered, Daegan did not know.


    “How do we know that you’ll let us live?” Daegan called out, he lowered his tone in an effort to make himself sound larger and stronger. He was proud that his voice didn’t break as he did so. The rak gave a considering pause.


    “Khandamos has need of blood… surrender the flame,” the rak chief replied, stepping forward out of the smoky haze, a massive black form silhouetted by the flames. Well that makes a lot of sense.


    “If we give you the flame… you’ll let us live?” Daegan wasn’t entirely sure what the rak meant by the ‘flame’. He could be referring to the topaz. It was the only sense he could make of it and from what Daegan understood, runestones were extremely valuable to the rak.


    “Weak,” the rak spat the word like an insult. “Men always weak… Always bargain… Always talk out of death.”


    “We have something you want—the flame,” Daegan replied, “if we give it to you, you’ll let us go?”


    “Him,” the chief gestured at Tanlor with the red dagger, “he is flame finder.” Yes, I suppose that’s what a primitive cult-like society would likely call a runewielder with a topaz.


    “He is,” Daegan replied, cautiously.


    The pair of soldiers kept their weapons raised but their faces were hopeful now that Daegan had somehow managed to converse with the creature.


    “Weak men,” said a different voice—still deep and terrifying but different—came from behind the chief, “Khandamos has no desire for the weak.”


    “Khandamos needs blood, strong blood of flame finder,” the rak chief snapped in a chastising manner. Daegan only now noticed how when the rak moved his head that the faintest of blue light moved along the muscle of his neck. What are these things?


    “The flame finder goes to Khandamos… the others die,” the chief said and Daegan felt his stomach drop.


    “Wait! I’m a flame finder too!” One of the soldiers said—the grenadier that had been atop the tower. “I can go, I’ll join this can-demons thing!” The man had clearly come to the same conclusion as Daegan had about the topaz and saw a way to save his own hide. Coward, Daegan thought, but then doubted he would’ve done anything different.


    An idea struck him.


    “Me too!” Daegan called out, “we’re all runewielders here.” The last soldier started nodding emphatically too, jumping onto the chance at surviving the situation.


    The chief stepped forward—within striking distance of the two soldiers. Both looked up with terrified faces as the chief stepped within range. He held up the blood red dagger and spoke, “kuled maz akraz.”


    A light grew from within the crystal of the dagger, casting the faces of the soldiers in an ominous red hue. It was not unlike the red light that filled a bloodstone that healers used. Daegan watched in mounting horror as both men fell to their knees in agony. Their faces became gaunt, their throats shrivelling as they gasped for breaths. In a matter of seconds, their skin began to char and flake as though invisible flames were licking at their faces.


    “No Undak,” the rak growled, teeth baring in revulsion as the two soldiers perished at his feet.


    Daegan’s heart pounded in his ears. He was suddenly aware of Tanlor’s weight in his arms. He could still run. He could push Tanlor down the stairs and take his chances jumping off the tower. The thought lingered shamefully and it wasn’t any sense of morality that prevented Daegan from moving.


    It was fear that paralyzed him.


    He wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt the emotion manipulating effects of a mindstone runewielder, but he was sure in that instant that this was what it felt like. Sheer terror locked his muscles in place and they refused to budge despite his mind screaming at him to flee. The chief loomed above him, like a shadowed and sinister father standing over a child.


    The rak looked down at Daegan, his blue eyes were radiant. Striking against the blackness of his alien face. Daegan had spent his entire adult life in the belief that monsters didn’t really exist—that demons and fomori didn’t exist but in that moment he knew that he had been wrong. They were very much real and they were here. This was a fomori—this was a demon.


    The rak raised the dagger towards Daegan and he thought he saw a question in the creature''s expression. He’s giving me the choice… he’s asking me if I want to die the same way that these two men did. Daegan supposed the alternative would be to die in a more traditional stabbing manner.


    The timber steps of the stairs groaned as the rak took another slow step towards him. He did not break eye contact with Daegan. Tanlor stirred in Daegan’s arms, he shifted his grip, propping Tanlor up. Tanlor was still very much unconscious. To Daegan’s shame, he slightly repositioned his friend so that he acted as a bodyshield between him and the rak.


    “You are Undak?” The rak nodded back towards the two husks that were the bodies of the other soldiers. Daegan figured that whatever Undak was, it meant that the red crystal dagger wouldn’t turn you into a charred, shrivelled corpse… it would be quite a major gamble on his part to agree. But then again, something about the dagger gave Daegan pause. The colour was remarkably like garnet gemstone—bloodstone. Daegan had never studied bloodstone, his training in runewielding stopping long before reaching such advanced practices. Daegan by his very nature as hindered couldn’t use bloodstone, but another notable disadvantage was that he also couldn’t be healed by one either.


    Daegan looked at the dagger and the dim red light still glowing inside with apprehension. The other rak behind were now advancing, their large black swords lginted in the light of the flames. He locked eyes with the chief and nodded.


    “I am Undak.”


    Daegan still clutched both his revolver and sword in each hand. The chief took another step towards him and Daegan considered taking a shot. He could shoot him. He had six bullets, he could attempt to fight… But… he couldn’t. Beneath the gaze of the rak chief he felt like a child again. Though their faces looked nothing alike, Daegan saw his father in the rak’s hateful eyes.


    The dagger was raised slowly towards him. Light building inside of it. Daegan became mesmerised by its light. His vision turned red. He felt the air being pulled out of his lungs. Daegan’s chest locked up and he lost his grip on Tanlor. The two of them went down; Tanlor dropping in a heap and Daegan falling to his knees. His muscles seized up and he was overcome by a sudden and intense prickling sensation—like thousands of insects with tiny blades for legs were crawling all over his body.


    His hands tightened around the hilts of his revolver and sword. He looked down at them, the white knuckles clenching. The skin on the back of his hands began to crack with black rivets.


    He’d been wrong.


    He’d been so hopelessly wrong.


    He looked up at the rak, the blue eyes looking down at him, coldly. The same disinterested look that his father had given him when he’d trapped Daegan in the prison of stone. He felt now the tips of the stone spikes pressing into his shoulders, his back, his torso.


    He tried to suck in a breath but his throat felt like there were hands of stone crushing around it. His vision blurred and the face of the rak warped, only the pair of bright blue eyes remained constant. Daegan’s mind filled in the blurring spaces with the image of his father.


    He was back in the training room in Epilas.


    Daegan didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be hated for just being what he was! His father loomed over him, lifting him by the chain of runestones around his neck. Pain racked his body.


    “We have coddled you long enough,” his father said. Daegan clenched his eyes shut but the image remained clear in his mind.


    “Tredains do not yield!” his father roared in Daegan’s face, “We do not bend. We do not cower. We cut down the enemies before us or we die in the effort!” Daegan’s hands clenched tightly around his sword and revolver. “We do not have weakness in our family,” his father snarled. “Now get up, Daegan,” his words were thick with disdain.


    Daegan coughed.


    You''re a monster. Daegan growled the words in his mind. He wasn’t sure if any sound came out. I was just a child! He clenched his teeth as the pressure closed around his throat. Phantom spikes of stone digging their way into his flesh.


    Daegan’s eyes snapped up. He strained against the pain, he raised his hand holding the revolver. His father’s expression remained devoid of any emotion beyond contempt. To him, Daegan was no threat. Daegan was useless. Daegan was an embarrassment. Daegan was broken.


    “I am not broken,” Daegan seethed, “you are.”


    He pulled his finger down on the trigger.


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