Notes
Managed to update quicker but at the price of splitting this chapter. It's getting pretty busy and I think its a good place to stop before it gets out of control and turns into a total beast.
I can't express how much I love all the comments and the interest in the story so far. We're nearing the end and its been a hell of a trip. I just want to say I appreciate the love and support!
No matter what he did, no matter how much magic he used on him, the Dragon Slayer couldn't be brought down. His soul could not be properly possessed. In his decades of study and practice that was something he'd honestly never experienced before and it aggravated him to no end. Even after restraining Natsu with magic cancelling cuffs it was not only still impossible, it was downright dangerous to try and possess him.
A priest handed Arlo a handkerchief so he could stem the nose bleed that had started during his last attempt. Natsu was still moving, now pulling against the chains they'd had to fix to the floor to hold him. At the back of the throne room an enormous stained glass window lit the expansive chamber in a rainbow of coloured light.
"You'll give up...before I will," Natsu said with a smug smile. The longer this went on, the more control he clawed back, and the weaker Arlo became. A fact that was vexing the Deacon as much as the Seith. The priest was inspecting the barrels of hag venom; preparing for transport to the airship still docked at the port. At the base of the throne, men were busying themselves constructing a teleportation ring; the runes when activated would deposit the barrels onto the airship. The vessel had already been set up to receive them.
"You should save your strength for more important concerns. This..." he gestured to the three captives. Arman was currently balancing on one foot touching his nose while sweat ran down his head; the man looked like he'd been in the same position for some time and his limbs were shaking. Jera was dancing up and down the steps to the throne. Moving with unheard music; twisting and turning with exceptional grace. "...this is an exercise in futility...in ego!" The Deacon huffed in exasperation. "As we stand here, the palace guards are killing any of my acolytes that attempt to leave our temples. Your magic would be best suited elsewhere, I assure you," He rasped.
The Deacon wasn't wrong, but years in a cell hadn't changed Arlo Basta quite that much. He still enjoyed toying with people just because he could. The Deacon grabbed Jera by the arm and threw her to the ground, noting how Arlo frowned as the woman fell several steps only to land painfully on her knees.
"I can understand why you would keep the Boscan, even the pink haired fool, the foreigners have value, leverage, but there is a city of whores if that's what you want with her. This one is a risk...and you are a fool to keep her alive," The priest snarled.
"I hate that word. Whore. In my country we treat our women with respect. Adoration," He looked down at Jera and smiled sweetly. "And you treat them like dogs," He spat back before leaning down to offer her a hand up. Glazed, uncaring eyes, looked back unseeing, while she took his hand and stood. "I keep her alive because I like Jera Ferod. Ferocious. Unashamed. And an exquisite dancer," He said full of admiration.
"You had her murder her own father simply to test her will... it's not wise to let her live. Unlike the hag, you do require sleep," They were all so paranoid, but Arlo had come to recognize after so long that Atla was a treacherous place.
"You needn't concern yourself with my well being. I'm rather an excellent judge of people; she may not forgive me, but eventually she'll stop resisting. She'll do what I say without magic," He looked the Deacon dead in the eye. "I can be very persuasive," He chuckled.
"Also a hypocrite. For all the grief you've given me over the years for keeping slaves, don't be fooled, not all of them wear chains that can be seen. We priests know this all too well," Arlo was glaring at him, clearly unhappy with the comparison the Deacon was drawing between them. The priest laughed at him. "You are a Seith mage. Your very magic is slavery!"
Around the barrels that the priests were stacking, the now finished teleportation circle waited to take the contents to the airship that had been commandeered in the disruption following the attack at the docks. The Deacon turned and stalked off unhappily, leaving the Seith in the throne room; leaving Arlo alone with his new toys.
Natsu pulled at his chains again as the Seith sucked in a breath and tried to use his magic once more. He reached into Natsu's soul, much further than before, and felt the stirring of something terrible buried there. Something blistering and dark. He dropped to one knee in pain; grimacing. Agony lancing through him, forcing him to withdraw quickly. Natsu was baring teeth just a little too long to be human in a terrifyingly satisfied smile.
"Perhaps...the old priest had a point," Arlo muttered, sucking in a breath. "I fear we might need to postpone our testing till another more convenient time," His magic was a power over humans...but he was beginning to realize that Dragon Slayers weren't entirely human. Certainly not enough for his magic to be effective.
"Awwww...but I like watching you sweat like an onion," Natsu snickered.
The Seith growled, his temper flaring as pulled out a knife.
"You'd do well to watch what you say, because if living in Atla has taught me anything, it's that the dead rarely cause as many problems as the living," He pressed the edge of the blade to Natsu's throat.
"I made a promise to my kid, I'd come back," The Dragon Slayer said, resolute. Seemingly unafraid.
"And I promised you all that if Bickslow came with me, he wouldn't be harmed..." Arlo mused. "Life is full of broken promises; full of lies," He pressed the blade to Natsu's throat and a single trickle of blood seeped from the wound before he found a searingly hot fist wrapped painfully around the arm holding the knife; Natsu grinned, slowly forcing the edge away from his throat.
Arlo Basta glanced down to find that Natsu's cuffs had fallen to the ground, a sandstone key still sitting in the lock. He turned, glaring hatefully at Jera, more than almost anything, he disliked being proven wrong. On top of that, by the people he despised.
In his effort to defeat the Dragon, the sand mage had recovered enough of herself to use her magic, and as misfortune would have it, she was as skilled a lock pick as she was a dancer.
The flame exploded from Natsu's grip without warning and Arlo screamed; his hand blackened beyond recognition in the scant few seconds it took to pry it free. He fell backwards clutching his now useless arm to his chest; watching as fire crawled up the Dragon Slayer's skin. The air around him suddenly became too hot to bear, to even breathe and he was forced to put several more feet between them just to draw breath.
The Seith's eyes flared brightly as he extended his power again but Natsu was now completely beyond his reach. His soul was searing to touch. His magic was useless against it.
"ACTIVATE THE TRANSPORT!" Arlo shouted, but the priests had stalled, balking at the man on fire walking towards them; like something straight out of their holy texts. Arlo felt his voice shaking with panic as he screamed again, the priests finally coming round to his orders; activating the spell.
The barrels disappeared just seconds before a ball of white hot flame sailed through the space they once occupied and struck the stone of the far wall of the chamber, exploding in a violent shower of stone and debris, rocking the very foundations of the palace and splitting the throne in half.
Arlo managed to make it to his feet and staggered toward the circle of runes only to disappear to the airship a moment later.
Arman collapsed to his knees panting breathlessly, groaning as Jera came round with a rage filled scream. Now that Arlo had left, his magic had gone with him and they were finally free.
"I FUCKING HATE THAT GUY!" She bellowed, but there was no time to dwell as the return fire started; the stunned priests finally getting over their shock long enough to begin to retaliate; hurling balls of flame back at them. The palace walls trembled, and stone fell from the ceiling as Natsu stepped in front of the others, swallowing the fire and roaring with such strength that the force blasted a sizeable hole through the great hall and out into the adjacent courtyard. The damage to the palace was becoming extensive when what was left of the temple acolytes decided to give up, and the priests ran.
But there was a price to be paid for causing that kind of commotion and before they got far, thd Kings guard were on them like flies; pouring in through the hole in the throne room wall. Drawn by the explosions. Having seen the flames and the scattering of fire priests, they descended on them, cutting them down without mercy; assuming they were the ones at fault, having already been put on guard by their commander. He'd made it known that they were to watch the temple priests closely. That any and all resistance was to be met with swift and lethal retaliation. Well, there was now a two storey hole in the palace and a lot of fire priests where they shouldn't be.
Someone shouted in Atlan before a number of guards raced from the great hall out in the corridors. In his numbed, exhausted state, Arman only heard the word 'Deacon' in what was being shouted back and forth.
"What the fuck is going on here?"
The commander of the guard appeared, pointing a dripping sword at the three of them. His armour was covered in blood. None of it his own. He paused taking them in. Jera was supporting the Ambassador to Bosco who could barely stand, there were bruises and cuts on Natsu's wrists; fresh chain marks.
"Someone had better begin explaining," The guard commander growled.
"They just transported a shit tonne of that red mist onto the Boscan airship. They're gonna start dropping it on the city," Natsu said. He glanced at the ring of runes and found the circle broken with fallen rubble but otherwise undamaged. Unfortunately, he didn't know how much time they had. "You think you guys could clear the ring?" He pleaded. "We need to get on that ship and destroy it," He said.
The guard didn't bother responding to him, instead he turned to his men and began barking orders. To Natsu's relief, they threw down their swords and began clearing the stone away.
"Don't suppose you guys know how this thing works, either? Natsu asked, scratching his head. Silence answered him, the Commander cocked his head, it was almost comical with the helmet he wore. Natsu looked hopefully at Jera.
"How the hell would I know?" She said defensively.
"I do!"
And then there was Laxus as he came in from the hall outside the throne room, covered in dust and blinking awkwardly in the sunlight. Bickslow staggered at his side, an arm around the Dragon Slayer's neck for support while Vander appeared a moment later from the shadows with Alma in tow. The Seith looked rough but there wasn't so much as a scratch on Vander and Laxus.
"What'd we miss?" Vander said.
"Basta transported himself and the poison up onto the airship. We need to get up there and destroy it," Jera spoke up, her eyes locking to Alma who was still a little out of it. She watched as Vander lowered her mentor to her feet and took a step away. Shooting Bickslow a wary glance. The atmosphere between them could have been cut with a knife.
Natsu ignored the tension and smiled stupidly.
"Finally, something I'm actually good at. You know, this isn't really going that badly," A hunk of stone broke away from the side of the gaping, monstrous hole in the palace and clattered to the ground, forcing a few guards to dodge. Everyone looked at Natsu in disbelief. He shrugged. "What? We got 'em on the run!" He said, oblivious to the fact that he'd just blown out the side of the Palace of Josta. A building so old they didn't even have a record of who built it.
"If they drop that stuff, Natsu, this city is going to descend into the darkest levels of hell," Laxus knew that there were probably still hundreds of thousands of people remaining in the city. A lot of Atla natives and other Desierto citizens had left, but a sizeable number had chosen to stay. If Arlo was able to go through with this. The numbers of the dead would be insurmountable.
"Hey, the range on this thing isn't gonna be a problem. He's gonna have to fly closer to drop that stuff anyway, right? So, we teleport up there, we destroy the ship..." He started to say and Vander laughed interrupting him.
"And then we fall several hundred feet out of the sky to our deaths. If we don't blow ourselves up in the process," He deadpanned. "Yeah, great plan there."
Laxus sucked in a breath.
"That might be our only option. I feel like a fucking idiot here, but do any of you happen to know how to pilot an airship?"
They looked at each other slowly and then a small hand was raised.
"Of course she does," He rumbled unhappily. "Does anyone other than the woman who's been awake for three days straight and is presently under sedation, know how to pilot an airship?"
There were blank faces all round. And then all hell seemed to break loose again in the throne room, there were shouts and screams as guards began filing into the chamber. They were dragging priests. Men wailing, clawing at the stone as they were pulled by their ankles and robes. The guards lined them all up in a row, facing the broken, barren throne.
The left the Deacon for last, herding him ahead, he lowered himself to his knees without instruction, in front of the others. The commander of the guard pulled out his sword and pointed it at him; he spoke in Atlan and Jera translated for the others as the guard looked like he would come apart with rage. His hand was almost shaking.
"My ...men have found what you left of the King. Dead in his chambers. His throat slit in his sleep left to rot," He said brokenly before his voice turned to anger. "The body is weeks old."
There were hushed whispers among some of the guards and wide terrified looks from the priests. Many had simply thought the King possessed by the Seith. Very few knew the truth.
The Deacon, though, he remained silent; looking otherwise unconcerned with his position. He stared up at the King's commander and sneered.
"I am a servant at the temple of the dark fire. I am protected in this palace by old magic," He held up his hand, where a symbol rested on his palm; the mask of the guard. His laughter echoed in the total silence. "Not even the King's death changes this protection," If the King had not rescinded it, the protection would still be in place, even now. The Deacon spread his hands in open challenge. "Besides..."
The Commander didn't allow him to continue speaking. He brought his sword up and struck him down; a single clean stroke that cut through the side of his neck and opened up his chest. Blood erupted out, staining the robes of the men behind him who gaped in wide-eyed horror, and confusion as the symbol on his hand faded.
Alma was almost shaking beside Bickslow, when she dropped to one knee she pulled him down with her by his ruined sleeve. Jera caught on and did the same. Arman barely needed any assistance beside gravity; as soon as she released him, he dropped like a stone, legs still too weak to support him. The commander of the guard turned to address the kneeling priests.
"The temple has had some power over the Kings of Atla, that is true," He said in common tongue, turning to look at the stunned, confused faces of the others. "...but my mother was a rather shrewd woman who felt it was best that my survival not reach the ear of the court," He said calmly.
It was slow to dawn on some that the city Commander was in fact the long considered dead, Atlan Prince, but no normal guard would have cut through the protections the Deacon wore. Only the power of the King could have removed the mark at all. Arman looked confused, looking down at his palm, knowing then that the symbol he wore was undoubtedly fake. An illusion cast to keep up pretense of a ruling King. He wanted to laugh.
The Atlan guards forced the priests down onto their hands in prostration and then knelt themselves, placing the tip of their swords against the floor. Bowing in his presence. In the presence of their new King. Some of them knew him well. Trained with him. For the first time in hundreds of years, a King had actually earned the loyalty of the men under his command. The city Commander was well respected. He valued the lives of his subordinates. Treated the people fairly. Even when they'd met him at the docks he'd chosen to let a wanted individual leave without bloodshed, rather than risk the lives of his men on something he didn't believe was right...or winnable.
"My mother arranged for me to take command of the guard precisely so I could see how the temple ran this Kingdom. So when the time came I would do better. I...think she should have ruled. She would have made an excellent King," He said, fondly remembering her. "But I have seen your rule. Seen the people controlled through fear..." He looked at Natsu, knowing exactly what kind of magic he practiced. "...and fire," He said suspiciously.
He put away his sword and took off his helmet. He was younger than most of the high ranking soldiers they'd seen but no less hardened looking, probably no older though than Vander. Tan, leathered skin, dark eyes and sporting a ragged scar on his face that disappeared into his hairline; he certainly didn't resemble any King they'd ever seen. He looked like all the soldiers had; a veteran of combat. The only difference being the red ring hanging from his nose, in place of the silver. Only royalty wore theirs red.
One of the priests on the floor began to beg forgiveness crawling forward towards the King's boots. He barely got a foot before the guard at his back rose and drove a sword straight through him; hard enough that the tip of the weapon cracked the stone; pinning him to the floor. Any other weapons should have shattered, but like their armour, it was all enchanted.
The others grew dead silent as the King locked eyes with each and every one of them.
"I will accept no apologies. Your crimes are not mine to forgive," The new King rasped. "I only want your oath of loyalty," The priests all began babbling endlessly. Swearing their devotion to the King. Some lay themselves on their stomachs at his feet, pledging themselves. Behind them, the guards were rising, raising their swords menacingly. Disturbingly they seemed to take some kind of pleasure in it, savouring the moments between. The King held up his hand to halt them.
"I accept your oaths," He said solemnly and then he let it drop, the blades of the guards falling with it; leaving the floor slick with blood as the priests were cut down in a single synchronized maneuver. A small smile seemed to pull at his mouth. "Now, they can ask their gods for forgiveness," He spat.
"Your grace..." Arman Pradesh began to speak but the new King silenced him with a pointed look.
"Yes, I am aware, time is not on our side...but I have seen them launch those airships...as fast as they are in the sky, they are not so quick to leave the ground," He looked to Laxus. "You said you could activate this?" He looked at the rune on the floor.
"Absolutely," Laxus breathed.
"Good!"
Laxus, Natsu, Jera and Vander joined the King and a handful of guard as they stepped into the circle. Laxus recited the basic incantation to activate it but despite a minor tingle that crept across their skin, making the hairs on their heads stand up, nothing happened, they remained as they were, in the throne room.
The Atlan King looked to Laxus for an explanation and the Dragon Slayer paled, knowing the only reason this wouldn't be working.
"They...must have destroyed the one on the other side," He muttered disparagingly. "Fuck!"
"You're a lightning Dragon Slayer, can you not just zip on to it?" Natsu voiced out loud. The situation was now well on its way to becoming desperate. The docks weren't exactly close.
"Boscan airships are protected against lightning. So they don't get hit in storms," Arman answered softly. "Laxus would simply be repelled. Even his magic would be useless against it."
"So what? We're totally fucked?" Bickslow asked. He'd never felt so exhausted before and this was just a step more than he could deal with right now.
There was currently a Boscan airship preparing to leave the docks and obliterate the city...and no one had a way to board it. Or stop it. There was also Arlo's threat, that he would keep some for Bosco. Arman knew better than to doubt it.
"Wait, you guys are the most paranoid folks I've ever met and you're telling us you don't have anything capable of taking that ship down?" Natsu sounded exasperated by the discussion. His tone was borderline rude and Arman balked.
"My hot headed friend, you might want to reconsider how you address the King of a country with a reputation for spontaneous executions," It was especially as relevant an observation considering they'd just watched a dozen unarmed, kneeling men be cut down in front of them. The throne room was a bloodbath; littered with bodies.
The King actually laughed.
"I'm going to appreciate the directness in this case, the situation calls for nothing short," He said. "And to answer your question, we do, but it would take too much time to put in place."
"There are mages from every country in this damn land, right here in the city, surely one of them practices teleportation magic, or flight. Something! Anything that could help us?" Vander bit out. "It takes about ten minutes to get an airship in the air. That's with an experienced crew. We might still have time," He grit his teeth. Uncertain he liked feeling this powerless. They were almost out of options.
The words had barely tumbled passed his lips when one of the King's guards burst into the throne room, ripping his helmet off and casting it aside. It was difficult to rattle the soldiers in Atla, but he was very much shaken.
The King's face fell.
"Did I not order you to the docks to try and intercept the Boscan ship?"
"The airship was already airborne, Comman...my King," He corrected himself. "They have begun their assault on the city already. The infected are spreading, more and more with every passing minute. Most of my men have fallen already to it," The man threw himself at the King's feet, accepting of whatever punishment he received for the failure.
"Then get up. Go out into the street and bring any you find that haven't been infected into the palace...bring them passed the wards, save as many as you can," He barked and the man ran.
The King looked to the other guards in the chamber and they followed suit. The protection wards would protect the Palace of Josta, but not from hunger, and not from thirst once people began flooding inside its walls.
The ridiculous levels of protection they'd previous cursed, were now all that stood between them and total ruin. It was said the palace wards could repel an army. They were going to soon find out.