:: Chapter Thirteen ::
The Battle for Saturn
Nephrite was the first to arrive to the pre-arranged meeting place, though Jadeite wasn't too far behind him. Both men sat in uneasy silence for a time, agreeing without words not to bring up or mention anything that had happened between themselves and their new wives tonight. When Zoisite arrived a few hours later, the silent agreement stood. Yet when their stern leader finally appeared near daybreak—looking absolutely exhausted and wrung out—Jadeite just couldn't help himself.
He shot Malachite a teasing grin. "So, Mal, are the rumors true?" The tall man just glared. Then he tensed up with discomfort when Jorowyn suddenly appeared out of nowhere, right behind him, and tossed a companionable arm around his shoulders before shooting the others a half-grin.
"A lesser man would be dead."
Malachite shrugged off the hold with a grimace, ignoring the others' chuckles. The splash of humor did all of them a lot of good however, somewhat loosening the strangle-hold of tension that had been choking the atmosphere. The King of Venus—the only one not laughing—eyed Jorowyn with a raised brow.
"Aren't you supposed to be on Earth right now?" he demanded dryly, "training troops?"
Jorowyn grimaced, then snapped his fingers. "Damn, I knew I was forgetting something."
"You'd better get out of here, Jory," Zoisite teased then, grinning, "before Endy shows up."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he still wants to kick your ass for yesterday," Nephrite followed up.
"I'm pretty sure he does, too," a new voice called, and the others turned to see the dark-haired King in question pinning Jorowyn with a narrow-eyed stare.
The slender Phaetonian just grinned fearlessly, then reached for something strapped to his wrist. "Ah, gotta go! Troops to train and time's a'wasting."
The other men in the clearing gaped as Jorowyn activated the device on his wrist and then disappeared into a miniature teleporter wormhole.
Jadeite, blinking heavily, was the first to recover. "What in the hell . . . since when can he do that?" he demanded incredulously. Zoisite just shook his head, smirking.
"That's what comes from leaving Jorowyn mostly alone to his own devices for the past two days, with a whole planet full of fresh components to work with."
"There are times when your cousin truly frightens me, Z," Neph heaved, causing the other to sneer.
"Only sometimes?"
A few moments later Shima and a handful of Saturnite warriors—the elite of what was left of his Imperial Guard, the man had assured—suddenly appeared in the glade. The tall warrior's band of office was gone now from around his brow, replaced instead by a simple black cloth—the outward badge of the dishonor that they would be fighting to absolve. Endymion nodded to his bowing salute.
"Well met, Shima. What news can you give me of our target?"
The tall Saturnite General reached into the front of his black garb, pulling out a small silver device. He pressed one end, and Endy tensed slightly with amazement as a large holographic image of the planet Saturn appeared from the other. He was still getting used to all the technological marvels that these other Kingdoms enjoyed. While not exactly medieval, Earth herself had nothing near to these kinds of advancements. Improving daily life on his homeworld was one of the many advantages he was looking forward to enjoying once this war was finally over.
A swarm of red dots appeared over the entire surface.
"These are the latest images, my Lord," Shima announced grimly. "The Youma number into the hundreds of thousands now."
"Where is the central palace," Malachite questioned, as the other four came to stand in a semi-circle around the image, all of their faces tense with determination now. Shima motioned to the northern hemisphere, on the smallest continent, separate from all others.
"The Imperial Palace is located here, on Endura-Prime, as is all of the royal housing. The entire continent was reserved for only those bearing noble blood."
"We should concentrate our efforts there first," was Malachite's suggestion. Nephrite nodded in agreement.
"It would give us a nice base of operations once we retook it." He motioned to the map. "Ocean to the north and west, mountain chains to the south and east. It's naturally fortified against all but aerial attack." Shima nodded.
"Which was why it was chosen for the Imperials in the first place. We had managed to hold here for quite some time before their sheer numbers simply overwhelmed us."
Endymion put a comforting hand on the somewhat embittered Shima's shoulder, then turned to the others, expression hardening.
"Very well then. Our course of action is set before us. We'll start by retaking Endura-Prime." He motioned a path across the planet. "From there, we retake every major continent and land-mass until we bottle-neck their forces into this area here." Endymion indicated a large valley between two massive mountain ranges. "That is where the Negaverse will make their final stand. And that is where we will annihilate them from the face of the planet."
"Just like when we drove the Youma out of the Northern Wastes," Jadeite agreed with an eager grin, tossing his head absently to remove any kinks.
Endymion turned on his heel then, starting off into the direction of the transporter. His four former Generals fell into step behind him, Shima and the other Saturnite warriors not far behind that.
"We'll transport in first," he called, "and clear the way for the rest of our troops who shouldn't be far behind us."
The technician, seeing that they were approaching, quickly began inputting the coordinates. Endymion scowled, wrenching his sword from its scabbard as the center of the transporter suddenly stilled and showed a war-torn landscape of blackened soil and flashing violet skies. And everywhere, the horrid Youma of the Negaverse roamed.
Expression stern with determination, he allowed himself only a moment to murmur a silent prayer, and then he leapt through the portal and head-long into hell.
Endymion landed nimbly into the soft black soil in a half-crouch, then recovered quickly and leapt toward a large scaled creature to his left, using the element of surprise to neatly slice its head from its shoulders before the monster even had a chance to react. Then he turned away, dodging the splash of bluish ichor that erupted—knowing from experience that some of the Youma's blood tended to be acidic and corrosive. The angry hiss as the stuff splashed onto the ground around him told the King he'd been wise to be so cautious.
Endymion managed to fell two more creatures before the majority of them were able to recover from his sudden presence. The lone warrior soon found himself surrounded by what seemed to be an endless sea of monsters. And then, in a sudden flash, Malachite, Zoisite, Nephrite and Jadeite all appeared around him.
Malachite launched forward, his enormous great sword audibly slicing through the air before it clove a monstrous bull-like Youma completely in half. In moments, no less than ten others shared it's grisly fate, the dark Saturnite soil hissing and spitting angrily around him with the copious amounts of blood he drew.
Zoisite nimbly tumbled out of the way of a reckless charge, then spun around, a thousand foot-long jagged spikes of greenish crystal erupting from his outstretched palm and peppering at least fifteen Youma beyond. All of them collapsed to the ground, dead or dying. Then the slender warrior flipped into a handless cartwheel back in the other direction, drawing the rapier from off his hip in the same motion before gutting another near-by monster, expression curled into a fierce snarl of battle lust.
Nephrite twisted and spun around, his braced arms flailing out in a deadly dance, crushing and decimating foes left and right. The dark-haired warrior nimbly ducked then a split instant before a deadly-barbed tail swept past and would have taken the head from his neck—having anticipated the action without knowing it was coming, using his unique and eerie ability of precognition. Nephrite grimaced as both of his fists were abruptly engulfed in jagged bolts of violet-black electricity. He darted in, then planted both charged fists into the chest cavity of the Youma in two stiff uppercuts in rapid succession. As the huge creature stumbled back, Nephrite planted one foot behind him and then sent two massive bolts directly into the creature's face. It fell completely to the ground then, instantly dead.
A wall of blue fire suddenly erupted to one side, incinerating countless Youma in an instant, their dying wails and screams almost lost into the roar of the flames. Jadeite gazed on, brows knit with concentration, expression hard and merciless. Then he turned, pulling the bastard sword on his hip from its sheath, to meet the massive furred creature that had stalked near. The creature crouched slightly, jaw yawning in eagerness to show the rows of jagged teeth that lined it, wickedly huge talons held at its side and ready to rip this insolent human to shreds. And then it drew back, confused, as it was suddenly surrounded in over twenty mirror copies of him. Each one looked exactly the same, incredibly life like, impossible to tell which was real and which were the illusion. The Youma snarled, making a swipe for one of them, yet his paw passed right through the image, dissipating it. The nineteen other Jadeites darted in with a snarl, and then the Youma screamed out its death throes as the Warrior King's sword plunged deep into its vulnerable underbelly.
Shima and his warriors could only stare on, completely dumbfounded by the display. Instead they watched, rooted to the spot, as Endymion suddenly launched himself forward again. The powerful Earth King raised his sword high above him and then with a roar he suddenly hit one knee and drove the point of his blade deep into the black earth. For a split instant a symbol suddenly flashed on his brow—a bronze circle bisected by a cross—before the entire ground around them began rumbling and shaking with mighty tremors. Shima and his warriors gasped as great chunks of earth began ripping up around them, flying through the air and slamming into hapless Youma. Then the very ground itself split wide in a great, yawning chasm, swallowing hundreds whole before slamming shut again—killing them all instantly.
"These are not men," one of his warriors whispered hoarsely, the sound of awed fear deep in his tone. "These are Gods in mortal form." While inwardly Shima was in complete agreement, he wouldn't allow his wonderment to effect him. He scowled then, and motioned sharply with his arm.
"Enough!" he snapped. "Arm yourselves! The battle for your home is taking place around you! Will you stand and watch it like frightened children or bare your blades and join in the struggle?"
The metallic screech of several unsheathing swords were his only answer. Shima grinned, drew his own blade, then as one the Saturnite warriors rushed into the fray. A moment later the area around them was suddenly filled with what must have been several thousand Earthling warriors. The battle-hardened troops didn't hesitate, rushing forward with roaring battle cries.
"My Prince."
Jorowyn cringed at that term, then grimaced. No matter how many times he'd told them to stop, they insisted on continuing to refer to him as their monarch. After a while Jorowyn had finally stopped trying, just doing his best to ignore it.
"Yah?" he demanded rudely, reaching blindly for his flask—for the only thing that he'd found that could deaden the pain.
The slight female behind him stood with her arms at her sides, the soft gray and blood red-tipped feathered wings that proclaimed her full-blooded Phaetonian heritage folded regally over her back. Her over-large blue eyes seemed to glint and glow in the faint light of his darkened room, reflecting it, another give-away to her race as well as the delicate, bird-like bone-structure of her narrow face. Her long pale hair hung down her back in a loose braid, to stay out of the way of the deadly crystal cat-claws she was wont to form over her wrists when in battle.
The former Phaetonian General cleared her throat a little. "There are a few . . . unexpected additions to the recruits that were sent to us, my Lord," she answered, tone soft and faintly deadpan.
Jorowyn turned to Sharpe at that, and lifted his eyebrow. "Define 'unexpected.'"
Before Sharpe could answer him, a loud and angry voice suddenly shouted from beyond,
"Jorowyn! Get your lazy ass out here! Just what in the hell do you call yourself doing in there anyway?"
Both of his eyebrows lifted in surprise, then his eyes narrowed. He knew that voice.
The former Prince got to his feet and stepped past Sharpe, then ducked his head out of his door and peered out into the hallway. Sure enough, there stood the tall and perpetually angry Princess of Uranus—fully decked out in her battle leathers—hands on her hips and bad-tempered scowl on her face.
"What in the hell are you doing here?" he demanded snidely, in no way intimidated by Amara's bluster. She glared, but it was Sharpe who answered calmly from behind him.
"I believe Princess Amara as well as Romulus of Mars, Theseus of Jupiter and King Oceanus of Neptune have all arrived with their troops and plan to take part in the war as well, my Lord. They're here for training, the same as their men."
Jorowyn snorted. "What'd you do, lose a bet?" he scoffed, but blinked slightly in surprise when Amara's face darkened a little with embarrassment. He just shook his head with a bitter laugh. "Lucky for the both of you that you drew the short straw. Your mother—though pea-brained at times about everything else under the sun—knows a helluva lot more about your planet's defenses than anyone else. And with you being about twenty-five years younger, you're more suited to the front-lines right now. So congratulations for accidentally doing something intelligent. I guess that kind've counts."
Before a now-fuming Amara could do much, Jorowyn turned back to Sharpe and handed her his flask. "You and Thorne take the troops and start on their reconditioning. Begin with going over the different types of Youma and their habits, as well as their weaknesses. Send the royals to me." Jorowyn turned back to a red-faced Amara and grinned nastily. "I'll take over their training personally."
One Month Later . . . .
Endymion sat at the huge long table, eating a meal of cold rations in the ruins of what was left of the Saturnite Imperial Palace. The ancient structure as well as the entire continent of Endura-Prime had been re-taken, as well as several hundred miles of surrounding territory. They were currently at a stalemate, however, until the new troops joined them. Even their enhanced abilities were no match for the Youma's sheer numbers, especially now that they'd fortified themselves against attack.
The four Warrior Kings sat with him, as well as Shima and a couple of other higher-ranking soldiers. Endymion took another bite, then grimaced and washed the tasteless food down with a gulp of drink, grimacing. Stars, he hated rations.
"Hey, what's with the face?"
The men at the table all started and turned to the sudden voice, the Saturn natives less used to the occurrence and half-reaching for weapons before they realized that the speaker wasn't an enemy. Endymion locked eyes with Jorowyn—who had appeared in a shadowy corner—and smirked.
"I must have sensed you coming," was his flippant response, causing the Phaetonian to chuckle.
"Well fine, I'll just go back to Earth and take my fifty thousand warriors with me."
Shima blew out a stunned whistle, eyes wide. "So many?" Jorowyn nodded, loping forward and grabbing a chair, twisting it around before he sat in it backward and braced an arm along the back.
"Give or take. Shocked the hell out of me too, at first. Mercury only pledged about 2,000, though that's not surprising, since they're not known as a warrior people. Same with Lunara, with around 3,000. Venus managed a little better with something close to 5,000 troops. Then we have Mars, turning over around 10,000, and Jupiter with something close to 12,000 fighting men. Uranus was close with around 11,000, and then Neptune spared around 7,000 from their defenses. They've all been teleported here onto Endura-Prime, freshly trained and ready to go." Jorowyn grinned then, reaching for something off of Zoisite's plate and popping it into his mouth—ignoring his cousin's annoyed look afterward.
Jadeite blew out a slow whistle. "Combined with our 15,000 and what's left of Saturn's forces, we should make a damned impressive army."
"And that's not all," Jorowyn continued, still smiling, now with a wicked glint of humor in his pale jade eyes. "I got the chance to hold my own personal training class with some very special students this past month."
Endymion lifted an eyebrow at that, but several others suddenly entered the room, answering the question before it was spoken. He felt his eyes widen slightly in genuine surprise. Here was a development he hadn't expected.
Leading the small group was Jorowyn's bodyguards—whether he wanted them to be or not—the former Generals of Phaeton, Sharpe and her Mate, Thorne. The larger of the couple had hair as blonde as hers, though his was razored short and close to his head, and his largish eyes shared the same golden color. His wings were larger than hers as well, a deep brown trimmed in gold and currently folded over his back. Both of them were dressed in their battle gear, black armored vests trimmed in blue and red respectively, with matching leather pants and knee-high polished boots.
They weren't surprising, but the four individuals that followed them were. Very much so. The Princess of Uranus, Amara, followed closely behind in her navy-blue armor, two short-swords at either hip and at the ready. Then the former King of Mars, Romulus, in sweeping black and red with a matching leather breastplate strapped over his clothes, an enormous falchion hanging from his waist. After him came the large former monarch of Jupiter, sporting well-worn brown and green leather and a double-headed battle-axe nearly as big as he was across his back. And finally, the King of Neptune—Oceanus—dressed in glimmering silver and aqua-colored scale-mail hefting a deadly trident in one fist.
Endymion stood as the last of the group entered and fanned out in front of him. He eyed each in turn, accessing their resolve and finding each more than worthy.
"I have to tell you, I did not expect this," he announced softly. Amara scowled.
"You may be a bunch of lying, war-mongering bastards," she huffed, "but this fight is mine as well. I'll not sit idly by while it happens around me."
"If you are willing to put your life on the line for the fate of our people," Romulus inserted then, tone soft but firm with conviction, "then we could do no other than risk the same. We might not possess such incredible powers as you have discovered, but I assure you that each of us are competent enough warriors in our own right. If my sword or my tactical knowledge can offer anything to this war, then you have it."
"Here, here," Theseus rumbled, and Oceanus nodded his agreement as well.
"We are yours to command, young one," the older, blue-haired monarch announced, voice deep. "Prove your brave words of a month ago to truth, lead us to a complete victory, and you shall have my allegiance and that of the entire Kingdom of Neptune until our dying breath."
Endymion grinned, then nodded. "Alright then, gentlemen. And ladies," he added in deference to Sharpe and Amara. "Let's say you we get to work? There're a lot of Youma out there needing to be put in their graves."