Chapter 4: Fortress

2 months ago…

Emilia examined the dirt under her fingernails. For one moment of vanity, she considered finding something with which to pick said dirt. She gave her dagger a questioning look, as if asking it if its sharp edge would suffice to chase away the dirt underneath her now-overgrown nails.

…

It would probably rip her nails from her fingers. Emilia quickly dismissed the thought. Blood wasn't something she wanted on her mind at that particular point in time.

It was already all around her to begin with.

'Emi!', someone called out to her. Emilia turned.

Adriel waved, his golden armor a stark contrast to the black piles of corpses he was climbing over to reach her. There was a serious look on his face, which probably meant bad news.

Adriel was, for lack of a better way to put it, a free spirit; so much so that in the heat of battle he would not hesitate to smile happily, which was equal parts creepy and endearing the way Emilia saw it.

Amidst slit throats, chopped heads and severed limbs, the cerulean-eyed young Justicar from Azmarin could still maintain a carefree look.

Not surprisingly, his troubled visage caused a lump to form in her throat.

'What is it?', she asked as he got close enough. Her assistant's booted feet came to rest on the upturned face of a Fallen female- one whose head had been relieved from its body. Emilia quickly glanced away, sickened. She turned to Adriel. He looked chirpy, as if someone could manage to physically embody so transient a notion, and of all places, here. His bubbliness was beginning to grate on her nerves and she huffed impatiently as the boy before her seemed to try to make up his mind whether to speak or not. What is it with men when they are around women….

'You are needed back at the station, that's all.'

'You could have signaled me over.', Emilia almost caught herself snarling at him. It was strange. Viciousness did not come to her naturally. Perhaps the battles have changed her. Or maybe she was just growing old. To be honest, she was too tired to care.

'Yeah…', Adriel admitted, '…but I-I just… just wanted to-'

Emilia shot him a questioning look. Adriel was never one to stammer; when he spoke the flood gates were opened and a torrent of words would spill forth, uninterrupted in neither flow nor speed. It was very unlike him to mess up, and yet he was now, flustered, looking like a first day Acolyte at the Institute wondering which end of a broadsword they should be holding.

'What?', she pressed, without perhaps intending to.

'I just wanted to check on you and see if you're… you know, o-okay…', Adriel finished with a sigh, looking at his feet. Seeing the ruined face of the Fallen he was stepping on, he turned away with barely concealed disgust.

Emilia immediately softened.

'Oh.'

She ruminated, searching her mind for things to say. It did not occur to her that a simple 'thank you' would suffice. Such was just typical Emilia; always overthinking things.

'Well… thanks.'

'Mmm.' Adriel looked like he wanted to say something so Emilia held her tongue. If that was even possible at all, she could see the gears turning in his head. It was almost cute, watching her assistant grasp for words.

'So you're fine…?', he asked.

Emilia mentally slapped herself. She had ruminated so much that she actually forgot his original question.

'I'm good.'

Her response was drier than the rock upon which she stood, and of course it never rained in the Dark Mountains.

'Well', Emilia cleared her throat, 'I will be back shortly, I just need to take care of this first.'

And by 'this', Emi of course referred to the mountains of bodies around her.

'Alright… you wouldn't mind if I lent a hand?', her cerulean-eyed companion asked, smiling slightly.

'Not at all.'

Together, they both raised their hands and began chanting incantations. The spell was a simple one. People in the Citadel had been using the spell for eons to light their master's fireplaces. The potential applications of Ignite on the battlefield were numerous, although it did take a few seconds to conjure and there was no such time in the midst of fighting.

They were not fighting anyone, though. Both watched in silence as the flames carried cremated ashes high up in the sky, mixed with embers, smoke, finally disappearing amongst the black-cliffed edges of the surrounding mountains.

'Rest in peace', they both muttered, as the last remnants of the dead Fallen burned away at their feet.

So many dead, fighting over barren pieces of rock.

Emilia sighed as she made for the infirmary.

Tomorrow, they would attack, again.

Tomorrow, she would burn their dead bodies, again.

Tomorrow, the war; oblivious to all the deaths, the sufferings, the sacrifices, will continue.

(break)

From her vantage point hundreds of feet above the two Sefiro, Krotia snorted softly in a decidedly very unladylike manner. Not that they would have been able to hear her, anyways.

The howling wind cut across steep valleys and canyons within the Dark Mountains, echoing and whistling, sometimes sounding like the tormented shrieks of the few Sefiro she actually bothered to toy with. At least to Krotia's ears. Women…she recalled. Their cries were higher pitched, right?

Krotia furrowed her eyebrows. She knew it made her look older faster, but she didn't care.

Men? They usually didn't live long enough to let Krotia hear them scream.

But it mattered not, she kicked her musings out of her head as she got up from her crouched position. The two angels walked away from the trodden ashes of her fallen brothers and sisters and Krotia gritted her teeth as she absentmindedly traced the scabbard of her knife. The one with cropped hair. That one, Krotia would remember. He was digging through the pile of bodies before the shorter one arrived, as if he was looking for valuables from the Fallen to steal.

He… or she. Krotia could not be sure. It was very far away, and although she could almost see a definite sway in the movement of the Sefiro's hips the armor made every one of those imbeciles look the same to her.

She sighed.

There was going to be a battle tomorrow. She better get some sleep. Not that she would be involved in the frontline fighting, still.

But so many Sefiro busy holding the gates would allow windows of opportunities to get to the Guardians within. Especially with the surprise that the Twilight Council had planned, there would be a lot of Justicars busy defending the gates…

And Krotia still had some throats to slit.

The wind continued howling, but on an empty cliff.

Krotia had disappeared, in the blink of an eye.

(break)

The warning bell rung much too early for Emilia's liking. But war, much like time and tide, waited for no one. Especially not people who had no business spending their previous night staring at stars on the fortress walls till two in the morning and neglecting sleep in the process.

Emilia did not have time to berate herself, however. The bell had barely rung for a minute and three quarters of the barracks had already emptied out, the hallway outside now loud with noises of booted feet, clanking armor and some over-hyped young Sefiro shouting 'Glory for Aerilion!'.

Someone ought to shut that recruit up. She was sure he would be among the first to get killed, charging face first at barrages of Fallen magefire mouth wide yelling battle cheers with spittle flying every which way.

Emilia let the din wash over her as she hurriedly clasped on her light armor and buckled the straps holding her dagger in place before making a beeline for the city walls.

Her wings were ruffled, her hair a mess, but there was no time for any of that grooming as she emerged into the muted sunlight outside the barracks. People were running all over the place and she did not know why. She looked around for the cause of the ruckus. Enemies were not in sight anywhere all around her, so why were people running for their lives?

A great, loud series of crashes and rumbles were heard, and Emilia fearfully looked up. It sounded like a thousand thunderclaps had resounded within the canyon at once, bringing the promise of a storm of destruction.

That was not too far from the truth.

Before her widening-as-saucers eyes, the jagged peaks of Dark Moutains were dislodged from their position, rock fragments breaking off from a widening cloud of dust and fire. Fire? Emilia barely had time to think as her feet turned of their own accord and began running somewhere she did not even know as she became one with the great mass of screaming Sefiro.

Mount Ashbourne had been dormant for fifty thousand years, its final eruption releasing the lava flow that had melted its way into what was today the canyon mouth at which Irongate city stood guard. There was no reason for it to blow up now, of all time, if ever, but the fire and ashes from the incoming avalanche of destruction could only mean that.

Unless…

The beginning of her train of thought was interrupted as a great almighty rumble resounded across the canyons, one even louder than the crashes of the mountain top as it came hurtling down towards Irongate. Almost every Sefiro in the crowd, soldier, civilian and Justicar alike turned towards the source of the sound.

And there, levitating dozens of meters above the fortress walls, surrounded by golden light, was High Templar Meridius, her hands outstretched, magical energies emanating from them to form a barrier that was- to everyone's disbelief- not only holding still the avalanche of ashes, but also pushing it back.

The golden wall of light got higher and higher as the rocks piled against it. Even from this distance, Emilia could see her High Templar beginning to struggle. She must have been enduring the weight of thousands of tons of rocks with her willpower alone.

But there were no cracks in the barrier.

At least, not yet.

Just as Emilia was beginning to get over the awe of seeing her people's High Templar save the city from certain destruction, the warning bell rung again, its noise amplified in the stilled silence of the city.

'The Fallen!', someone screamed. The scream was followed immediately by another, and another, and another. Soon the whole crowd was screaming again. Emilia refrained from covering her ears. 'The Fallen are at the Gates!'

The soldiers around her were already making for the fortress walls, while the civilians continued running every which way, adding only to the mess. Emilie was tempted to grab someone and slap them twice across the face to get some sense into them. Screaming never helps. In war, even less.

She found herself pulled along the river of people. Someone hastily shoved a sword into her hand. But she had no use for it, not much, at least. Another, recognizing the emblem on her shoulder guard, screamed 'Medic!' before pointing her in some general direction. And still yet another, this one probably a Justicar, in golden armor as he or she was, was telling her one second to shield High Templar Meridius while she defended the city, in the next second he or she was gone.

Emilia was left alone, not knowing what to do. Like a rock, in the middle of rapids.

And still, High Templar Meridius continued hovering above all the din, all the ruckus. Above all the writhing mess of angels. Some clashing swords, some hollering in pain. Some snarling curses, most running for their lives.

She was above it all, and yet, she was also part of it.

A thin sheen of sweat started to form on Meridius's forehead as she watched the erupting lava with one eye, while out the corner of the other she saw five distinct Fallen formations making a bee line for the Gates, along with various other mechanized contraptions- most likely war machines.

But there was not even time to spare her brethren a glance to see if they had readied their defenses.

High Templar Meridius grimaced as she turned her full focus to holding back the landslide of destruction.

The barrier, her barrier, was beginning to crack.

(break)

Krotia was not one to play with her food, but at that moment she really had nothing else to do. A Krotia of a different time would have chided her for her …unprofessionalism, perhaps, as the hooded girl nibbled at her bread, not quite getting to the meaty part just yet.

But with the peaks of Mount Ashbourne crashing down upon Irongate; all thanks to the works of the Arch Mages, she- in her capacity as an assassin- could do little even if she had wanted to.

Krotia leaned fully against the smooth, warm rock. She arched her back, yawning, covering her mouth with her hands as she did so. No one might be around to see her, but Krotia did have a great upbringing.

Covering one's mouth as one yawned was a basic and simple etiquette that unfortunately not all of her comrades seemed to think was of particular importance. But then again, they were men.

Abhorrent creatures, Krotia thought vehemently as she gnashed her teeth onto the meat. Nom nom…this is actually good, Krotia blinked twice, surprised, as she brought her little meal up for closer inspection. It was actually real meat!? Not some weird looking lump that always managed to taste like lamb…

Perhaps life on the frontlines were beginning to look up after all-

'Kroti- Heyy!', Plunos yelped as he felt the wind from the tip Krotia's blade brush past his throat. It would have slit him open had she not realized in the half-heartbeat it took for Krotia to turn on him that he was not an enemy and stilled her hand a hair's breadth from his Adam's apple.

She turned her back on him just as quickly and re-sheathed her blades. The younger Fallen then noticed his comrade's meager meal of bread dropped at her feet; forgotten. He was going to say something about that, but bit down on his tongue.

It was probably already too dirty to be consumed, anyways.

'Krotia…'

'What?!', she snapped at him. She regretted it instantly- there was no reason for her to be rude, even if he was disturbing her at her little hideaway when he clearly shouldn't have…

Krotia tried to smooth it out by grunting and nodding at him. It didn't really work. At least that was what she thought. Plunos was, incredulously, blissfully ignorant of the prevailing mood in the air. The raven haired boy who had for some reasons decided to sit himself down beside her then began talking.

Krotia wanted to throw herself off the cliff.

Plunos went on and on and on about what it a magnificent sight it was to see Ashbourne's very peak coming down upon the city of their sworn enemy and how victory was surely as hand as even while they were sitting there five Fallen formations were already en route to decimate what would be left of Irongate after the landslide.

Krotia couldn't care less. She had been informed that she was to stay away from Irongate for the day. Apparently, they had no need of her while the Fallen-made landslide would surely kill everyone anyways.

At least that was what they had said.

Something made Plunos shut up, and simultaneously caused Krotia's eyes to widen just so.

Something- no, Krotia corrected herself; someone was rising above the fortress walls, bathed in golden divine light. That being did not wear the rank and file golden armor of the dauntless Justicar, neither did he, or she, Krotia reminded herself, wear the loose flowing robes of the Guardian class. There were no Inquisitors stationed at Irongate as far as she was aware of, but that left only one possibility.

But it couldn't be… the intelligence reports said nothing of this.

Plunos began blabbering again, all the bubbliness gone out of his voice replaced by heavy tinges of worry. For a brief second her thoughts sidetracked and she reconsidered if it would be a much, much better idea to throw him off the cliff rather than herself.

As if to confirm her worst fears, said being raised both arms and began summoning a mighty wall of light which not only stopped the crushing avalanche in its track but also pushed it back.

There was no doubt left in Krotia's mind. The being had to be a High Templar.

Leaving where a now-speechless-and-staring Plunos to sit where he was, Krotia began to deftly run down the jagged, treacherous mountainside with the celerity and grace of a native Mountain goat. Not that those were still around, the stupid Sefiro had managed to eat all the goats up long ago.

How the hell did they even catch the goats to begin with?

Even that thought was quickly tossed out of her mind as she jumped over two large rocks, landing smoothly a dozen meters forward and continued running as she headed for the Twilight Council.

Someone had to stop that High Templar. Fast.

(break)

The arrow was not guided by an invisible hand, but it might as well have been. There was only a small gap where her breastplate and shoulder guards did not cover- barely 2 inches wide- and yet, that cursed arrow had found its way in and now stabbed painfully somewhere in her armpit.

Emilia was not in life-threatening danger, but she would soon be. Luckily for her, she knew how to deal with these kinds of scenarios, having dealt with them numerous times before.

Too many times, she thought with chagrin as she recalled the various occasions when she would be summoned to help save a fellow soldier before the cursed Fallen arrow twisted her comrades into irredeemable monsters, only to be moments too late and having to watch as a Justicar behead her charge to save him.

But she had time, minutes this time, not second. As quickly and gingerly as she could, at the same time, Emilia began undoing her armor. The few others around her that wasn't busy shooting arrows and throwing spears back spared her one worried glance.

They were not medics, however, even if all of them knew how to heal simple wounds, and thus would be of no help. Emilia could already feel the poison and corruption seeping in. She had to hurry- but it hurt so damn much. It hurt just to move as she began poking at the skin around where the arrow had penetrated her.

Surely enough, the skin had turned papery and ashen. How she could tell her skin was ashen was beyond Emilia at that moment as she began whispering fervently under her breath. Wisps of green and gold began emanating from the tips of her fingers as the medic worked to fix herself.

Through a thickening haze, Emilia saw Adriel. Was his name Adriel? Yes, it had to be… Adriel was giving her a strained smile as he notched another golden arrow into his bow. Acrid smoke hung in the air, no doubt a result of the magefire bombardment the Fallen were launching at the fortress walls. Adriel waved at her and Emilia attempted to wave back. Her hand refused to comply.

It made Emilia angry. She was surely going to have a word with her hand after this.

The world was fuzzy. Too fuzzy for her liking. Adriel continued standing there.

But something was wrong.

Why was he not smiling anymore?

'Adriel…', Emilia called out weakly with a sigh as she felt the corruption in her veins become purged, 'why aren't you smiling?'

By ways of reply, her assistant's headless body toppled to the ground, mere feet from where she herself sat propped up against the railings of the bastion wall. Charred black flesh and smoke lingered at where his neck had been seared clean by what was no doubt black magic. The notched bow dropped at his side, golden arrow falling to lie beside the fallen Sefiro.

'Oh my…', Emilia whispered deliriously as she struggled to get up. She grabbed onto something. Someone. They pushed her away and screamed. Then that scream was cut out too, like as if someone had shoved a large rock down the screamer's throat. Emilie did not wish to spend one second pondering if the head was still attached to the screamer's body.

After an eternity of hell, she had dragged herself up high enough to look over the fortress walls. There was a gigantic black wall, rising taller than the sky itself. Why was there a black wall?

There was a Sefiro floating a few dozen meters above her.

Looks shiny…

Why is there a wall in the air?

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the barrier broke.

(break)

Support Velkoz's note to readers: Hi there. Thanks for reading so far as you have. If it's not obvious by now, I upload one new chapter every weekend. I will inform you if there are any schedule changes. Have a good one folks!