Chapter 12
Thousands of miles away, rolling thunderclouds covered the great plains, stretching a shadow across the land like a plague of locusts and swallowing every inch of the ground. Until all was plunged into darkness. Only purple flashes of light buried deep in the clouds above flickered and thunder roared in the skies, splitting the air like the echo of a dragon.
From the distance, there was a pillar of darkness from the heavens that descended in a lazy spiral. But despite its mesmerizing appearance, its cyclonic gale could surely tear the earth apart.
The metal shells of patrol tanks paused in their tracks. They spotted the destructive force from the distance and ventured cautiously out to investigate. However, they noticed the dark shape was approaching fast, advancing with speed like they had never seen before.
The tanks spun around on the spot, as fast as their treads can go, and began to pull their heavy bulk away from the approaching storm.
But it was too late, the tornado was gaining on them. They could hear the air around them statically charged, howling and screaming in ears of the passengers, and the strength of the storm shaking the ground beneath them. The world around them was tearing apart.
They cautiously took a few steps back, edging away from the rippling illusion. They hadn't been seen yet.
But did they know they were here? If they hadn't known, they wouldn't be standing guard in the first place.
They most likely were lying in wait.
Reina began to wonder what the centaurs saw. As humans, they could see the town and its crops even from a distance away from the illusion. What then would centaurs see? And what might happen if they moved into the illusionary field? Would they emerge into another "instance"? Such questions were swirling, chaotic, as she tried to wrap her mind around it. Frankly, she was unnerved that she wasn't even concerned for their safety, but rather, more mind-boggled at the complex spell. Her time spent on books were far too much and she must have become more of a scholar than a mesmer.
"Let's find another route out." The guardian next to her only spoke of the obvious. He didn't sound grim at all, but held a carefree tone, trying to assure her everything would be alright. But she knew she had to be stronger, more independent. She didn't want someone else to be concerned for her, a knightly man or not. It was her life, her problems, and she would need to improve her skill until she could solve them herself. But until then, she kept silent and followed the Lieutenant.
Their feet crushed grass and weeds underneath with crunches that sounded much too loud in the eerie quiet. She couldn't help but wonder how long such an elaborate illusion would last. Was anyone maintaining the spell from a distance or was it permanent even if the casters left it alone? Her heart began to pound as she imagined the horror if the illusion fell apart around them.
"This way." Nathaniel had took them behind a row of houses and hugged the edge of the cliffs that kept the hamlet at the bottom of a valley. They turned the corner around a pile of massive boulders to come to the south entrance of the town. The south opening to the valley pointed towards the sea just a few more miles away, with a fishing village that stood at the bottom of the hill. From there, she could swear she smelled the scent of salt water but the arcane aura from the illusion blocked out most of it.
Due to the Seraph's personnel issues, the fishing village had been tragically overrun by krait, bringing about much grief and critique against Captain Logan Thackeray, who barely had enough time to be involved with his responsibilities on the coordination of Pact forces against the dragons. It seemed like the human kingdom was slowly falling apart, as piece by piece, threats closed in from all directions. There had been talks about the Captain's resignation to focus on the dragons, and allowing his subordinate to succeed his place. Yet, within the palace it was obvious Thackeray had no intentions of leaving Queen Jennah's side.
"There's more centaurs."
Indeed, even the south opening, as far as Reina could tell, was guarded by centaur forces. What were they waiting for? How did they know?
The Lieutenant counted around ten of them. "We have to avoid a confrontation."
But Reina laughed. "Do you think you'd be able to stand a chance?"
His expression darkened. "If that is a joke, I must say it wasn't very tasteful."
She was taken aback and said nothing. Did she injure his pride?
"Follow me."
"Yes sir."
He spun around and headed back into the town with her on his heels. Reina wondered if he was mad. From her view of his broad shouldered back, she couldn't tell what expression was on his face. Was it anger? Sadness? Hate? Did he not realize she was joking? Such a joke surely couldn't be too bad. But she realized she didn't understand him at all. Why did he sacrifice his duty as a Seraph guard? What his relation to her? Why did he know her anyway?
Questions that lay unanswered were begging to be answered, but she couldn't dare ask.
For the next while, neither of them spoke.
But the silence was shattered anyway.
There was a sudden flash of light piercing the sky. Then came a rush of wind, a ripple of waves through still water. It first staggered the crops near where they first entered the town, before rushing towards them to shake and rustle the trees all around, tossing dust, leaves and grass around their feet. Dirt and sand stung at their eyes and engulfed them with a newfound fury.
The illusion was breaking apart.
"H-how?" But the lieutenant said nothing and simply grabbed her hand. They took off running through the middle of the town, past the trees, past the thatched roof houses and abandoned crates. Their feet never stopped, pounding against the ground like their racing heartbeats. Running, running for their lives. The seraph was bringing them to the entrance of the abandoned mine which opened before them like the yawning mouth of a beast. It was pitch black inside, but it didn't look like he was stopping.
They had no choice.
They would plunge straight in.
