Chaos of Choice: Book Six - Chapter Five

 

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Chapter Five

Year 3633, the Sixth Age, the seventeenth day of Spring

 

The high stone arch of Sparren’s main gate loomed over head as Fairris followed the army of the Grey Company into the city streets. Wide stone roads reached out before the warriors and as they moved through the buildings and looked about the city.

The metropolis of Sparren was positioned high in the hills of the Farron Mountains and nestled on a large plateau with high peaks all around. Sparren was also known as the City of Stone, as all the buildings, roads, castle, gates, and bridges seemed as if they had been carved out of the mountain and were of the same pale colouring. Strangely, Sparren was also known by others names such as the City of Mines, for its wealth was largely dependent on the thousands of mine shafts and tunnels that had been dug through the mountains surrounding the city.

Sparren was also called the City of Constant Rain as the Farron Mountains were situated on the western boarders of the Morrow Plains, and along with the constant rain on the Morrow Plains in Sparren it rained nearly every day with a heavy down poor almost every second day. To account for this persistent rain there were hundreds of canals throughout the city to provide a path for the water. These waterways merged together at the south western corner of the city and formed the River of Stone that curled its way down through the mountains to the west as it raced into the Western Oceania. These waterways  throughout the city proper had many bridges crossing them, which was why Sparren had also adopted the name City of Bridges.

In recent Ages, as Sparren had grown, it extended its walls to the west and forming a larger section of the city on the western side of the Farron Mountains where the River of Stone gushed into the ocean. This new section of the city had grown much larger then the portion in the mountains and had become the housing of the main populace of Sparren causing the part of the city in the mountains to become mainly occupied by the wealthiest individuals.

Fairris looked about the city curiously as she marched at the front of the column. Trickles of water from the light rain ran quickly down the smooth sides of the buildings before being collected by the roadside gutters that directed the rain into the larger canals. Even though it was raining, the daily activities of the citizens continued normally as if nothing was amiss. But this particular morning most stood at the side of the road and watched the Grey Company pass with curiosity.

Fairris found it somewhat relieving to have reached the city for their trek through the Pass of Karadon had been slow as had their march through the foothills of the Farron Mountains and up the winding path to the gates of Sparren.

Fairris glanced over her shoulder to see Nanil following along with all the others of the Elder Races who had joined the Grey Company. It had come as a surprise to Fairris when Kil’dar had given her a promotion and set her to take command of all the Elder Races in the ranks. Initially Fairris had not wanted the command and argued with Kil’dar, but it had been an order by her superior so she had been obligated to do as she was instructed. Much of the reason why she had not wanted the position was because she had to leave the company of Ty’far and Jar’nesh, her two dear friends. But Fairris was also suspicious of Kil’dar’s motives for awarding her the position.

“Nanil, walk beside me,” Fairris bade the smaller Valenthōr.

“Yes, Commander?” Nanil asked as she moved to catch up.

“I still don’t understand why Kil’dar promoted me to this position,” Fairris said, not the first time she had brought up the subject to Nanil.

“He told you why,” Nanil shrugged, “You were the first of the Elder Races to join the Grey Company so it seemed a logical decision. Plus you were Captain at the Gaia Mountains Penitentiary for many years.”

“I doubt it is that simple,” Fairris remarked softly, “You are close to Kil’dar, Nanil. Can you tell me for certain that is his only motive?”

“I’m not sure I understand what you are asking?” Nanil asked suspiciously.

“I have come to realise that there is always a reason Kil’dar does something,” Fairris replied seriously, “So tell me, why did he choose me to lead the Elder Races in the Grey Company? Why not you instead?”

Nanil shrugged, “I wouldn’t have a clue.”

Fairris narrowed her blue eyes slightly, “I may not like this position but I am still your commander. Tell me the truth.”

“Who’s truth?” Nanil asked innocently, “I can make something up if you would prefer.”

Fairris sighed and shook her head as she decided to leave the conversation there. By now the company had moved further into the city and along the very straight structured roads over half a dozen bridges and past many uniform buildings. The company moved slowly by a square and the sight of the large temple of Antōre caught Fairris’s eye.

On the temple many great spires reached high into the overcast skies and a large door stood open at the top of a few stairs. The area before the Sect was filled with lots of people kneeling in prayer and at the top of the stairs a priest was preaching loudly.

“The end is nigh, my brethren,” the priest was saying, “We must now repent our sins and pray for forgiveness from The Five. Only in constant prayer during these final days will we be able to find salvation and rebirth in a new world once this one has rotted away.”

“Not quite right my friend,” another man said loudly as he walked from the crowd to stand atop the stairs. “The end is upon us yes indeed. But we should not waste our time praying to The Five for forgiveness. What can they do? Anduěr has been killed already, if you believe the stories. The rest will fall with Anduěr and where will that leave you all? I’ll tell you where, it will leave you wishing that you had not wasted your time praying when you could have been drinking and partying day and night, celebrating the life you have lived and to ones you have shared it with.”

A slight smile came to Fairris’s face as she listened to the second man’s words, and in fact she wondered why she was taking him seriously. The second man was round fellow, with and ample belly and wide face. In his brown curly hair sat a golden reeth and he wore white robes. On his feet were simple leather sandles and upon his face always a smile and glint in his eye. In fact this man seemed as if he had just come from some festivities holding a golden chalice in his hands.

“Blasphomy,” the priest shouted.

“Don’t give me that,” the jolly man snapped back, “Did Antōre not create a demi-god to embody festivity and enjoyment?”

A slight cheer came from the crowd as they began to agree with the fat man’s words.

“Did Antōre not create a demi-god to personify drink and laughter and the enjoyment of life?” the fat man asked and another cheer rose up from the gathered, this time louder than before. “Don’t listen to this older preist’s words of nonsense. Come with me and let us live the rest of our short lives in fun and laughter, and drink and debauchery.”

An even louder cheer erupted and nearly the whole of the square emptied as they followed the fat man from the Sect of Antore. As the square vanished behind her Fairris caught the sight of a young woman watching the scene with interest and who did not follow the rest of the crowd. Fairris turned her attention back to the front of the colomn with a slight sense of familiarity nagging at her thoughts.

Fairris dismissed those strange thoughts as the Grey Company moved on towards the south western corner of the city and where the waterways of Sparren merged into the rushing torrent that was the River of Stone.

At the south western corner, in a wide plaza, the Grey Company stopped and crowded in the space as they waited to board the rafts that would take them down the river to the lower section of Sparren.

Fairris pushed her way through the mass of warriors and to the stone balcony that overlooked the river rushing down the specifically crafted gorge. Fairris stood upon a wide walkway atop a high wall that spanned the gap between two mountains. At the middle of this wall thousands of leters of water rushed over the edge every minute and down a short drop before rushing into the the specifically built waterway. Along the edges of the rapids narrow stone paths followed the water corse down and were used for maintaining the river or by those who could not pay for the boat ride.

Just then the first of the flat-bottomed boats carrying the warriors was pushed out from the sheltered dock by two attendants and the current pulled it towards the waterfall. Although Fairris had been in Sparren before she had never seen or used this ferry system and she watched with an excited expression. The raft carrying near on two dozen warriors was taken swiftly by the current and shot over the edge of the waterfall and down the twenty foot drop into the river. Through the use of Runes carved into the rafts and along the side of the river there was no obvious jolting as the raft touched down softly amid the river and was washed away by the current. Runes etched on the walkways at side of the river and on stone plaques on the raft kept it in place as it vanished down the rapids, moving smoothly at the centre of the river as if it were on rails.

Another raft followed the first and slowly the warriors who were cramped in the square became less. With the crowd dispersing Fairris noted many other warriors watching the rafts go down the rapids with delight. A smile came to Fairris’s face as she noted two in particular and moved to join them.

“Fairris,” Ty’far greeted as Fairris lent on the railing next to them, “Enjoying your new position?”

There was no malice or jealously in Ty’far’s voice, only playfulness, and Fairris rolled her eyes.

“Enjoyment is not the word I would use,” Fairris replied with a smile, “I am more suspicious as to why Kil’dar gave it to me. He never does anything without a reason, and he could have easily chosen someone more experienced to command the Elder Races.”

“Perhaps he just sees you as the best person for the position,” Jar’nesh shrugged as she watched yet another raft take the plunge over the lip of the waterfall.

Fairris sighed, “So has my position with your squad been filled already?” asked Fairris.

Ty’far shook her head, “Not yet, likely it won’t happen until after this situation with the Black Rangers is done.”

“Where in this city are their headquarters anyway?” Jar’nesh asked curiously.

“I believe they are in the northern part of the lower section of the city,” Fairris replied, “Probably near where the rafts are transported back up to here.”

“How do they do that?” Ty’far asked as she looked to north and up river just as a raft came slowly along and into the sheltered dock.

“A lot of it is to do with Runes,” Fairris shrugged, “I don’t really understand the specifics of it. Vythe could tell you if he were here.”

“I would like to meet your friend Vythe one day,” Jar’nesh said with a cheeky smile, “He sounds, interesting.”

Ty’far laughed, “I am sure you mean attractive.”

“That too,” Jar’nesh laughed back and both Ty’far and Fairris joined in.

By now there were not many warriors left in the plaza, only those of the Elder Races and about dozen others and another full raft was being prepared to leave.

“Look,” someone shouted at the northern edge of the dock as another raft came from upstream.

All eyes turned and widened in surprise as they saw dozens of arrows protruding from the wood of the raft along with a few dead Nevāranciens. However one warrior still lived and she crawled from the raft into the helping arms of her companions.

“What happened?” one warrior asked as Fairris pushed her way to the front of the crowd.

“The Black Rangers,” the warrior replied and winced in pain, “Ambushed us as we disembarked from the rafts.”

“Arrodell,” Fairris called out, “You are the best healer we have. Come, help her.”

A bald Valenthōr pushed his way to the front of the group and knelt down beside the wounded warrior as he began to cast healing spells.

“Commander Fairris, what do we do?” Nanil asked loudly and everyone looked to Fairris.

“What?” Fairris balked in surprise, suddenly feeling awkward.

“You are the highest ranked here,” Nanil continued, “You know this city, what do we do? We cannot continue to take the rafts to be rained upon by arrows. Think of a plan.”

Fairris’s mind seemed to suddenly go blank and she looked to Jar’nesh and Ty’far for support. Although they did not say anything both of her friends smiled and nodded to her.

“There will be service paths where the rafts are brought back up here,” Fairris said after a few moments of thought, “We will go by that rout and come in behind the forces of The Black Rangers.”

A cheer of agreement rose up from the two dozen Grey Company that still remained about the dock.

“Wait for me,” the wounded warrior said loudly and she tried to get to her feet, but staggered to the side and would have fallen if not for Arrodell who held her steady.

“You are still hurt,” Fairris shook her head.

“I can still fight,” the warrior growled back.

“I can heal as we move,” Arrodell said as he supported the warrior.

“Alright,” Fairris nodded, “Every one follow me.”

With Jar’nesh, Ty’far and Nanil beside her Fairris quickly led the way through the wide city roads with two dozen of the Grey Company behind her. She jogged over a few bridges before coming to the tunnel in the side of a cliff where the rafts came up from the lower city. But no more rafts were being pulled up from the lower city by the magicks of the Runes. It seemed that the rafts had not been pushed on into the pull of the Runes by the dock attendants and Fairris could see no more movement along the river on her way.

Thankfully Fairris assumption had been correct and she saw immediately a narrow path that ran along the inside of the tunnel and leading deep into the mountain. There was no barricade or guard preventing entrance along the narrow path so Fairris quickly embarked along the dimly lit waterway. Following in single file behind her the Grey Company’s footsteps echoed throughout the tunnel.

As her eyes quickly adjusted to the dimness, Fairris could see that the waterway was clearly purpose built for the rafts. Not far down the tunnel she came to the place where a natural river rushed down from the peaks of the mountain through underground passages. Where the mountain river flowed into the crafted canal for the rafts a narrow bridge arched the expanse and showed Fairris the way down through the darkness.

On the other side of the bridge there was a stone ramp that went out from the water and over a lip before slanting downwards again and deeper into the roots of the mountain. Like the rapids that took the rafts downstream on either side of the ramp were narrow walkways and like the rapids it was through the use of Runes that brought the rafts up from the lower city.

Downwards into the mountain Fairris led the company, moving as swiftly as she dared down the steep stairs. Occasionally the path and ramp for the rafts would flatten out as it led around some bends before again sloping downwards at a sharp gradient.

Many minutes drifted painfully by as they made the long decent, all of them acutely aware of the time and that their companions were at this moment fighting with The Black Rangers in the lower city. Sometimes the tunnel around them would suddenly open up into a large cavern filled with floating fairy lights illuminating hundreds of stalactites and stalagmites, but most of the time they were racing through the dark tunnel too quickly to admire the natural beauty.

As they descended yet another long and staircase Fairris saw light at the end of the next flat stretch of tunnel and relief filled her. The ramp for the rafts submerged into a canal of water like the entrance in the higher section of Sparren and opened up into the lower city.

Emerging from the tunnel the sounds of battle were immediately heard by all and Fairris quickly lead the way along the river to the lower cities raft docks. Down in this part of Sparren where the less fortunate lived and the economic differences were reflected onto the city, cobblestone roads twisted and turned their way through the haphazard construction of the buildings which were less then beautifully crafted. The city of Sparren had changed from its unusual created houses of smooth stone which lined the wide and flat roads into a place that resembled nearly every other city in Essinendeür. This stark difference in the look and feel of both parts of Sparren had caused the city to also be known as the City of Two.

Through the streets of this City of Many Names Fairris quickly led her company of nearly two dozen warriors towards the sounds of battle.

Although Fairris could not get a clear look at what was happening she assumed that the forces of The Black Rangers had boxed warriors of the Grey Company at the raft docks. No doubt the bulk force of The Black Rangers were assaulting from the main roads to the docks while archers rained arrows from the roof tops.

With the battle only a few streets away Fairris called the company to a halt to lay out some quick stratagies.

“Jaynath,” Fairris called a strong looking Zirarian to the front of the group. “You will take our best magicks users to the roof tops. Eliminate the archers before raining death upon The Black Rangers. The rest of the force will be divided into three under the command of Jar’nesh, Ty’far and myself. Jar’nesh and Tyfar, you will circle around to the west and south and come in behind the Rangers while I will lead my company from the north. Nanil you will stay with me. Any questions?”

There were none and the group quickly divided into four groups, Jaynath called half a dozen elves and Mōrgul cats to him and quickly left in search of a path onto the roof tops. When the rest of the warriors broke into groups Fairris led her company straight towards the sounds of battle.

With Nanil close behind her, along with half a dozen other warriors, Fairris picked a swift path through the winding streets. Quicker than she expected Fairris turned a corner to almost run into the back of The Black Rangers line. Nanil was quick to act and she jumped ahead of Fairris and fired a massive blast of magicks that cleared out the alley and thundered into the side of the Ranger’s line. Seizing the opportunity Fairris darted out from the side road and with her gunblades in her hands she ripped into the stunned forces of The Black Rangers. Immediately the group that she had led were beside her and pandemonium ensued. Jar’nesh and Ty’far quickly arrived and the warriors that had been stranded on the raft dock charged with renewed ferocity. Suddenly a hail of magicks rained down upon the members of The Black Rangers and the battle quickly turned in the Grey Company’s favour.

Just as Fairris drove her blade through the chest of one Ranger a horn sounded from the ranks of The Black Rangers and all that remained standing dropped their weapons and surrendered.

Fairris called for her companions to hold their blades and step back from the fight as she did.

“We surrender to you,” called a tall and noble looking man from within The Black Rangers ranks. “It is clear that we cannot win this fight and I will not see any more of my men die needlessly. Where is that Blood Elf who led the charge that sealed our fate?”

All of the warriors turned to Fairris who was covered from head to toe in her victim’s blood. The crowd between the leader of The Black Rangers and Fairris parted and the tall man walked proudly towards her.

“I surrender to you,” the man said and he presented his sword to Fairris, “Do as you like with me, but spare my companions.”

Fairris regarded the leader awkwardly having no idea what to say in such a situation. Nerverously she glanced around to warriors near her in search of some aid, but all were looking to her.

“I am Gar’lin, High King of Nevarance,” Gar’lin shouted angrily and he pushed his way through the crowd with Kil’dar behind him.”If you will surrender to anyone, it is me.”

Both the High King and Kil’dar bore wounds of their own from defending themselves at the docks. But none of the cuts were fatal and both seemed as if they could have fought on for many hours more.

“Then I surrender to you, Gar’lin,” the noble leader of The Black Rangers nodded and offered his sword to the High King.

“I do not accept your surrender,” Gar’lin growled back, “You had the courage and stupidity to start this war when you killed my warriors and I will see you all die for your actions. Grey Company take up arms and slaughter these Black Rangers.”

“What?” Fairris balked in disbelief, “They have surrendered.”

“You don’t have any authority here weakling,” Gar’lin roared at her, “Warriors, kill this wretched bunch of lessors.”

Hesitantly the warriors readied their weapons as they looked to each other for support.

“We were only executing a contract given to us when we attacked your warriors,” the leader of The Black Rangers spoke up desperately, “You Grey Company would have done no different. If you must dishonour our surrender take your vengeance out on me, leave my companions out of this.”

Gar’lin looked at the man seriously for a few seconds.

“Very well,” Gar’lin shrugged and in a flash his sword lept from its sheath and slashed the throat of The Black Ranger’s leader.

“No,” Fairris screamed as the leader dropped to his knee as he held his cut throat.

“Kill them all,” Gar’lin ordered as he casually wiped the blood from his sword.

“That’s enough,” Fairris shouted angrily and she suddenly realised that her gunblades were in her hands. “They have surrendered and killing them now is nothing short of murder. Where is your honour?”

“Do not speak to me of honour,” Gar’lin glared back at her, “You wretched elf, you should never have been allowed into our ranks, nor the rest of your filthy kind.”

Fairris was at a loss for words and Gar’lin looked at her gunblades in her hands before smirking nastily.

“I can see your mind, fool elf,” Gar’lin sneered, “You think you can form your own army of weaklings within my ranks and usurpe me? You think you can bare your blades at me and think I will let you take my ruler?”

“What?” Fairris asked in confusions, “No, I just think what your are doing is wrong and dishonourable. I have always thought that the Wyner prided themselves on their honour. So how can you strike down these Rangers when they have surrendered?”

“Silence,” Gar’lin screamed, his eyes wide, “Go ahead and try and take my title from me. I am High King, do you think I got this position because my father was King after the fashion of weaklings? Try and take it from me.”

Before Fairris could say anything Gar’lin’s blade darted for her face. Desperately Fairris threw her head backwards and away from the deadly tip, but as she regained her balance Gar’lin’s sword was again slashing for her face. Some how Fairris managed to deflect the attack and quick step away from the crazed man. But Gar’lin would not let it go that easily and he pursued her quickly all the while his deadly blade stabbing and slashing for her face and body.

Gathering her wits Fairris corrected her feet and moved into a defensive position. She was at a loss as to what to do. If she responded with her own attacks that would just give Gar’lin more reason to try and kill her, but if she did nothing the result would be the same. All she could really do was continue to defend and back away from the crazy King in hope that someone would intervene. Fairris caught a glimpse of Kil’dar who seemed to be enjoying the fight and she realised that no one was going to try and stop this battle. Fairris could see that the only action she could take now was to win, or to die.

Gritting her teeth Fairris went on the offensive, skilfully countering Gar’lin’s attack and executing her own slash or stab.  A swell of energy vibrated within her and Fairris felt as if she could even take on and defeat Lieut at that moment. Her sudden increase in energy, strength, speed and stamina could only be caused magickal Buffs. Fairris was disappointed at the thought that Nanil was likely the one casting Buffs upon her to help her, but at this point she needed all the help she could get. Somehow Fairris managed to slow down Gar’lin push and in the middle of the street as dozens looked on she managed to make a stand against the crazed King’s attack.

Fairris deflected a slash for her throat, sending the blade high and over her head as she spun with the impetus and slashed at Gar’lin’s chest with her other gunblade. Somehow the King had managed to move his sword quickly back to defend the strike and sent her slice harmlessly away. 

Gar’lin was an extremely good fighter but Fairris could tell that he was in no way as good as Lieut had been during the times she had spared with him, and even then Fairris had wondered whether Lieut was using all his skills.

The fight continued on and Fairris managed to make up some ground against Gar’lin. She even pushed him back to the raft dock where hundreds of dead lay on the ground. Although she seemed to have an advantage at the moment Fairris could not help thinking that Gar’lin was goading her into a false sense of security. Perhaps he was simply testing out her ability before he went for the kill, or waiting for her to tire.

She did not want to admit it or succumb to it Fairris had to admit to herself that she was becoming exhausted. Her breathing was fast and her arms were becoming heavier, but she refused to diminish the tempo at which she was fighting. As the exhaustion increased Fairris faced yet another dilemma, she could use the magicks within her gunblades to fire endless streams of magickal bullets at Gar’lin. But she could not bring herself to do so. The Nevāranciens prided themselves on honour and thought the use of magicks a dishonour. How would the warriors react if she won the fight using the magicks of her gunblades?

Fairris had little choice left though, for her arms were tired and her lunges were strained. Jumping back from the fight Fairris executed a back flip before leveling her gunblades at Gar’lin and squeezing the triggers. The Runes on the flat of the blade flared brightly as a large ball of magickal energy burst forth from her weapons and thundered towards Gar’lin.

But quicker then what seemed natural the High King managed to bring his broadsword before him and block the ball of energy. Fairris’s attack burst apart as it hit Gar’lin’s defense and exploded into a cloud of Fog which was quickly sucked up by the stone set in the cross piece of the King’s sword.

Gar’lin laughed gleefully as a look of shock came to Fairris’s face.

“Your pathetic magicks cannot harm this blade,” Gar’lin roared triumphantly, “It is made of Zodiarc Stone and set with Anther Crystals. Originally made for Ne’our, the youngest of The Brothers, but I hold it now.”

With another roar Gar’lin took a step forward and launched a powerful slash in Fairris direction. In a bright flash a blade of light thundered through the air towards Fairris. Thinking quickly Fairris brought her twin gunblades together and cut through the beam of light. Gar’lin’s attack burst apart into thousands of sparks as Fairris’s dwarven made blades slashed through it. With her arms and hands shaking from the impact Fairris smiled at Gar’lin.

“Perhaps you should learn how to use it then,” Fairris unwisely baited the crazed King.

Gar’lin’s face trembled in anger as he let out another roar and charged at Fairris, the edge of his blade now shining with a bright green light.

Fairris eyes widened as Gar’lin attacked with unbelievable speed and strength, and with each block that she managed to execute, her hands vibrated violently from the impact. He was too quick and too powerful for her, such unnatural ability reminded her of Lieut but this time it was different.

With Lieut, his strength, speed and skill seemed apart of him, with Gar’lin all Fairris took note of was the manic look in the man’s bloodshot eyes and the bulging veins all across his skin.

Fairris winced in pain as Gar’lin’s attacks began to slip through her defences, cutting her on the arms, shoulder, thighs and hip. Despite the Buffs that Nanil had cast upon her it was only a matter of time before a Gar’lin’s sword would cause a mortal injury.

Suddenly Fairris was knocked off balance and she felt an explosion of pain as Gar’lin’s sword cut deeply into the back of her thigh. Fairris screamed in agony and fell to the ground. One of her gunblades fell from her hand as she clutched at her severed hamstrings, trying to stem the flow of blood.

Gritting her teeth through the pain Fairris looked up to see Gar’lin looming over her, the blood vessels in his left eye had ruptured causing the whites of his eyes to turn red. Gar’lin’s breathing was heavy and his top lip twitched, all across his arms and neck his veins were still bulged and sweat poured from all over his skin.

“I shall put you down like the lame dog you are,” Gar’lin sneered and levelled the tip of his sword with Fairris’s face.

Fairris looked away from High King, not because she was afraid but rather not wanting Gar’lin’s hideous appearance to be the last one she saw. Instead Fairris closed her eyes and thought of Lieut, and Vythe and Bārdin. She reached into her memories and thought of the time they had all adventured together. Fairris imagined an alternate reality where she was once again travelling beside them and this time both Jar’nesh and Ty’far were with them as well. Each morning she could see Lieut smiling as they sparred together.

The clash of metal brought her attention back to reality and she looked up in surprise to see that Gar’lin’s finishing blow had been deflected by a broadsword held by Kil’dar.

“What in Hell are you doing Kil’dar?” Gar’lin roared angrily, his eyes still seeming manic.

“Stopping you, I thought that was obvious,” Kil’dar replied simply.

“Why?” the High King asked through clenched teeth.

Kil’dar scoffed slightly, “I suppose a mad man does not know he is mad, and it is fact that every one else seems insane to him.”

“What?” Gar’lin asked in confusion.

“The Programmable Biotic Entities you had attached to brain stem have destroyed your mind, Gar’lin,” Kil’dar said with a sigh.

“I see it now,” a sudden realisation seemed to come to Gar’lin, “It has been you all along. It is you who wants my rule.”

“Well, I am surprised,” Kil’dar laughed, “To think you might speak some sense at last. Yes I have tried to get rid of you, my old friend. For many reasons, most important of which being that you have clearly lost your mind.”

“Traitor,” Gar’lin spat.

“No, I am not the traitor,” Kil’dar was quick to say, “It was you who betrayed your people. You caused this Gar’lin, when you turned your back on your warriors, when you no longer could see what they desired. We have made a home here in Essinendeür, its people are now our people. But you cannot see it. I do not know whether it is because you do not want to and are too afraid of change, or whether those PBE’s have been the cause of it. But you have grown drunk with your own power, your own self importance, believing that your word is God and everyone should obey your every whim.”

“You speak a lot, old friend,” Gar’lin sneered, “But if you want to usurp me and be High King, you will have to fight me for it.”

Kil’dar readied his blade, “I had not thought it would be otherwise.”

As Kil’dar and Gar’lin engaged in battle Ty’far, Jar’nesh and Arrodell came running to her side. Immediately the bald Valenthōr began casting healing magicks upon her leg and Fairris looked back to the fight between Kil’dar and Gar’lin.

Fairris had never seen Kil’dar fight before and she was taken back by his level of skill. The sounds of metal rang out loudly as Kil’dar pushed the offensive causing Gar’lin to back away. Something seemed different with Gar’lin this time, Fairris noted, maybe his battle with her had actually tired him or something else was happening to the High King.

“I am High King,” Gar’lin roared as he gasped for breath and disengaged Kil’dar. “I will not be defeated. I cannot be defeated.”

Gar’lin bared his teeth as he held his sword in both hands and slowly pointed the tip of the blade behind him. As the sword moved what Fog that was left in the Anther Crystals in the hilt began to swirl around the blade and along its edge. Confidently Kil’dar waited for Gar’lin to make his move, causally holding his sword in one hand to his side.

Suddenly Gar’lin’s sword shot forward in an upward slash and a beam of light burst forth from the blade and ripped apart the ground as it thundered towards Kil’dar. In a blink of an eye Kil’dar slightly stepped to the side and brought his sword up in defense. Gar’lin’s attack exploded in a flash of bluish light causing Kil’dar to stagger backwards a few steps and breaking his sword. But aside from that Kil’dar seemed unharmed and he regathered his footing before calmly walking towards Gar’lin, his broken sword still in hand. Gar’lin made no move to ready himself as Kil’dar confidently walked over, and it seemed as if the High King was exhausted and all strength gone from his limbs.

By now Arrodell’s healing magicks had done a great deal to repair Fairris leg and stop the bleeding. But the Valenthor still grumbled irritably as Fairris staggered to her feet to get a better look at the exchange between Kil’dar and Gar’lin.

“Not even wounded,” Gar’lin said between laboured gasps, his arms visbly trembling. “How is that possible?”

“Something I picked up from my Valenthōr friend,” Kil’dar shrugged, “Who would have thought that one of the Wyner would be able to use magicks?”

“You weakling,” Gar’lin spat.

Kil’dar scoffed and squatted in front of Gar’lin who was doubled over in exhaustion.

“No,” Kil’dar smiled and shook his head, “Fog and Magicks are power in its raw and unaltered form. Sadly you never had the wit to see it.”

A low chuckle began to burst out of Gar’lin’s mouth and he collapsed to the ground.

“Why did you do this to yourself, my friend?” Kil’dar asked seriously as he looked with pity upon Gar’lin.

“Power, Kil’dar,” Gar’lin replied with wide eyes, “I am High King, so I must have power to keep my position. I am sure you understand that.”   

“Look what that desire for power has done to you,” Kil’dar shook his head.

“I know,” Gar’lin laughed as he lay on his back, “I cannot be defeated. I am High King and I will defeat all who challenge me.”

Kil’dar let out a deep breath and looked to the broken sword in his hands.

“You know you broke my sword,” Kil’dar remarked and Gar’lin struggled to push himself into a sitting position.

“To defend me, your High King, you will need a new one,” Gar’lin said when he had finally sat up. “Here take this one.”

With shaking hands Gar’lin struggled to lift his own sword and hand it to Kil’dar. A slight smile came to Kil’dar face as he accepted the gift.

“But I cannot leave you without a sword,” Kil’dar said as he took the Zodiarc metal sword from Gar’lin, “Here I will give you mine in return.”

Gar’lin let out another long chuckle as he held Kil’dar’s broken blade before him, before he fell backwards to lie on the ground.

“Farwell King Nothing,” Kil’dar said simply as he stood up and sheathed his new sword.

“Off on another diplomatic mission, Kil’dar?” Gar’lin called out as he stared at the sky and laughed again.

“Of course,” Kil’dar replied before he walked away.

In the arms of her friends Fairris followed as Kil’dar walked back to the group of stunned Grey Company and Black Rangers alike. Behind her Arradoll continued to cast healing magicks and grumble about the fact that she should not be moving so soon.

“It seems our High King has lost his mind,” Kil’dar said loudly as he addressed the crowd, “I suggest that we have a tournament to decide who will lead us now.”

“You lead us Kil’dar,” A warrior interrupted and nearly all other Wyner called their agreement.

“Well I am not sure if that would be right,” Kil’dar seemed suddenly hesitant.

“Lead us Kil’dar,” many other warriors shouted and more cheers rose up.

“I feel that at least we should have a vote of some kind,” Kil’dar replied strongly.

“All in favour of Kil’dar for High King say aye,” a warrior shouted and loud response in agreement came from the crowd

Kil’dar quietened them down, “Very well, I will,” he decided and another cheer erupted, but again Kil’dar hushed them before speaking again. “If this is the will of my people then I cannot turn from it. But as we are not in Nevārance I cannot claim the title of High King.”

“Lord Kil’dar then,” a warrior shouted and the group agreed.

“Very well,” Kil’dar said, “I will accept the title.”

All gathered shouted happily and Kil’dar quitened them down.

“Well, it has been a long road my brothers and sisters,” Kil’dar said loudly, “After the failure of our invasion we came to a time of unease and many of our companions left our company to find a new life. Gar’lin tried to find a way back to Nevārance, but as his obsession with power increased, he did not see the change in his warriors. But I can see it, I can see that you all know that we cannot return to Nevārance now and we must build a new life in this land. Gar’lin tried with his strength to stop this change and now he has gone mad. But I will not stop you all from accepting this new world, falling in love with its culture and people, I embrace it.

“So from this day forth I am making it the purpose of the Grey Company to better this land. Any who does not like the sound of that may leave and go with my blessing. You may try and find a way back to Nevārance on your own or seek out a quiet life, I will not judge you. But all who remain excitement, adventure, and enjoyment will greet you. Of course the Grey Company’s work of taking contracts to help those in need will not change, but now we shall be bound to live and work within the laws of this land.”

Kil’dar paused and Fairris could see many of the warriors nodding their heads in agreement.

“As for those of The Black Rangers,” Kil’dar continued, “You now work for us, for the same cause. If you wish to become a member of the Grey Company, you may, so long as you pass the trial. But I encourage you all to make friends, let past differences go and build a new future. Our new life in Essinendeür begins now, so lets us make it one worthy of legend. But before we celebrate this new beginning, we must honour our fallen and hope that Death has awarded them an after life filled with celebration and enjoyment.”

When Kil’dar had finished his speech all of the gathered warriors and rangers dispersed and went to collect their fallen comrades, but all of them ignored Gar’lin who was still lying on his back staring absently at the partly cloudy sky.

Slowly Jar’nesh and Ty’far helped Fairris over to a nearby bench where Arrodoll continued to cast healing magicks.

“I can’t believe that Kil’dar can use magicks,” Fairris shook her head in berwilderment.

“What do you mean?” Jar’nesh asked curiously as she dressed a wound on his own leg.

“You heard him say that he could,” Fairris replied, “And the blue flash was an indicator that Kil’dar was using protective magicks upon himself. That’s why he didn’t get hurt.”

“It could have just been Nanil,” Ty’far shrugged as she rubbed away some dried blood on her arm. “What I can’t believe is how long you lasted against Gar’lin. That’s incredible Fairris, I never relaised you were so skilled.”

“Your confidence in me is overwhelming,” Fairris replied dryly causing both Ty’far and Jar’nesh to laugh. “Though I am sure Nanil aided me during the fight.”

“Your leg should be alright now,” Arrodoll said as he stood up and ran a hand over his bald head. “But it will feel stiff for a while and if you exert yourself before it fully heals you may cause the bindings to pull apart and it will start bleeding again as if no healing magicks were cast. So in effect you will be right back were you started, before I even cast the first of my spells.”

“Thank you Arrodoll,” Fairris smiled and the Valenthōr walked off to see if anyone else needed aid.

As Fairris stood up she stretched her leg which indeed felt very stiff, but thankfully there were no obvious signs that it had nearly been severed completely. All there was to indicate she had received a blow was a thin pale line across the back of her thigh.

Before Fairris and her friends could move off and aid their companion Kil’dar approached them with Nanil beside him, who was no longer wearing the grey top that showed she was a member of the Grey Company.

“Well done Fairris,” Kil’dar said as he stopped before them, “You achieved so much more then I believed you would so I think you deserve some accolades.”

“How about an explanation?” Fairris was quick to ask drawing a slight smile from Kil’dar.

“It is all quite simple really,” Kil’dar shrugged, “Gar’lin needed to be removed and he was. You aided in this and I finished it. What more is there to say?”

“So you planned this from the beginning?” Fairris asked curiously.

“Not the very beginning,” Kil’dar shook his head, “But since I believed that Gar’lin was no longer beneficial to the Grey Company, yes I planned it and it succeeded thanks to your aid and the aid of Nanil.”

Fairris shook her head in disbelief and at the realisation that she had indeed been used by Kil’dar to meet his ends.

“Can you really use magicks, Kil’dar?” Ty’far asked suddenly.

A slight smile came to Kil’dar’s face, “A little bit, yes. It was Nanil who showed me how.”

“Can I learn?” Ty’far asked the small Valenthōr.

Nanil shrugged, “It’s possible.”

“Can you teach us?” Jar’nesh asked with a slight hint of excitement in her voice.

“Ask her later,” Kil’dar cut in, “Now we need to concern ourselves with honouring the dead. Come, our new headquarters in Norrendōrel is not far and there we will celebrate the dawn of a new era for our people.”

Kil’dar did not say anymore and he and Nanil turned away and moved with the rest of the company as they made their way to the old headquarters of The Black Rangers. Fairris and her friends followed more slowly as Fairris’s leg was still very stiff. By now many of the common folk were beginning to return to area to see what had happened. As Fairris glanced back to the dock she saw a few commoners helping Gar’lin to his feet, who was still acting quite mad. The raft dock was soon behind them and Fairris looked towards the headquarters that was before them. It was indeed a new beginning for the warriors from Nevārance and The Black Rangers, but Fairris could not help but wonder how long it would last with the rift in the sky threatening the end of the world. 

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