Disclaimer: yeah and right
Author's Notes: omg! We've only got like two chapters until the end. The end, baby! I'm so excited that this author's notes have suddenly become less important to the story as a whole. OMG!
warning: blood, violence, and character deaths
Act XXV: Casualties of War
Predawn had just begun to light the halls of the Holy City palace when Keira slipped out.
Jak had come back into their bed only a few hours before. He had folded himself around her and promptly passed out. Keira had allowed herself to feel the reassuring weight of him again—after so long—before she had slipped out.
It had felt so good to feel him again, to be with him again. Keira felt as if something that had been sleeping dormant inside her for seventeen years had suddenly come back to life. How long had it been since she had stopped hoping he would come back to her?
Now here he was again, almost as if he had never left. Keira had been honest when she had told him there was no way to go back to what they had had, but she felt so alive now that he was here. She felt like she was ready to take on anything.
And she would have to. There was still a war to fight and she wasn't going to die. And she wasn't going to let Jak either. They had too much to sort out, too much to catch up on. Nothing was going to stop it from happening.
She all but bumped into Aithne as they crossed paths.
"Aithne!" Harried, Keira slapped her hands on her daughter's shoulders to hold her steady, and in place.
"Hey, Mom," Aithne said with a weak, little smile.
Keira felt guilt clench in her gut. So many things had happened the day before that she had barely had time to look for her daughter. She had caught mere glances of Aithne as she was moved to and fro, catching up on all that she had missed, dealing with the knowledge that Jak was alive. Just dealing.
"Aithne, I'm…" she trailed off, frowning. "You're room's that way." When Aithne's winced, Keira's eyes narrowed. "Whose room did you come from?"
Aithne was silent.
"Cyren," Keira guessed and Aithne raised wide eyes to hers. "I knew he had a crush on you, Aithne. It was obvious. I guess… you feel the same way about him…?"
"I love him," Aithne mumbled, lowering her head again so her hair blocked her eyes from view.
"I know… I know I haven't been the best mother," Keira began weakly, bringing her daughter closer to her. "But I've always loved you. You know that, don't you, Aithne? I've always loved you."
"I know, Mom. I know that. And I—I didn't mean all those awful things I said to you the day… Annityn… when you were taken. I didn't mean it. I was just—angry, I guess—that you didn't get me. That you never did." Aithne lifted a shoulder miserably. "So I guess that you're… you're going to stay with him."
"Oh, Aithne. I—"
"It's okay, I expected you too." Aithne turned her head to the side, sucking a breath. "I just don't get how you can be with a guy… a guy who left you high and dry for seventeen years, without a word."
"I love him," Keira told her helplessly. "I can't change that, Aithne. And, no, I wouldn't if I could. Jak… everything he does he does for us. And I don't— can't — want to live without him." Smiling an odd half-smile she pushed aside some of Aithne's hair. "You're too young to understand, but no matter what Jak does, he always has my heart."
With a deep sigh, Aithne closed her eyes. For a moment she thought about Cyren and thought about his duties and about the heartbreak that was coming swiftly down the road. But she couldn't stop herself from loving him.
"No, Mom, I get it. I do." She lifted her eyes to Keira's again and held the connection. "Jak Mar… he can't be my father, Mom. He wasn't around when I needed one, and now I don't. He just can't be."
"Aithne—"
She held up a hand and cut her off, shaking her head. "But I won't hate him. Maybe I can't, either. I won't—and I don't—hate him. Because you love him. And I love you. So I'll… I'll…"
As Aithne's shoulders hunched defensively, Keira brought her daughter against her chest and rocked her, one hand running down her blonde hair, right down to the blue tips.
"It's okay, Aithne. It's okay," Keira murmured soothingly. "It's alright. Everything will work out, you'll see."
"I'm going to try to understand him, Mom," Aithne promised, rubbing her face against Keira's willing bosom. "I'm going to try to understand him, for you."
Saying nothing, Keira merely held Aithne tight in her arms until the tremors passed. It was more than Jak, she knew. Everything was coming crashing down on Aithne's head and she needed someone to cling to.
So she let Aithne cling to her. Her mother.
Jak merely watched from his spot next to the bedroom door.
--&--
Venn awoke groggily, rolling onto his stomach, reaching out for Crea.
But she wasn't there.
Blinking, he lifted his head from his pillow, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes. Light hadn't even begun to filter through his window, just grey and blue hints of the sun. But Venn knew that it meant they only had a few hours before they were back out on the battlefield.
"Crea?" he called, rubbing a hand across his face. He pushed himself up, his torso lifting off the bed.
She was seated in a chair she had moved to sit opposite their bed. She was already dressed in her normal attire and her battle armor was spread out beneath her. Crea watched him as he pushed himself into a sitting position.
"The Mage is here," was all she said, standing. "I can feel him." Wordlessly, she opened her balcony doors and stepped outside.
He tied the blanket around his waist and hurried after her, shivering as his feet touched cold stone. Crea stood in front of him, her arms wrapped lightly around her own shoulders, staring out at the Sage-Harmona tents that dotted the sand.
"It's going to be alright," he promised her, not sure if he was telling the truth. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, drawing her into the warmth of his naked chest, pressing kisses along her neck.
"He brought reinforcements," Crea added softly. "I can feel them, too."
"It's going to be alright," he repeated, his grip on her tightening. He forced his voice to remain quiet even as he felt those raging emotions inside him. "I promise."
Crea just nodded, her eyes never leaving the horizon as dawn broke.
--&--
Roid prepared for battle as well. With Cyren up in a meeting with Sala, Ashelin, and Gareth, he sought out the Metal Heads.
They were just outside the gardens of the Holy City. As he entered their encampment, he could feel the preparation underway. There were no words spoken as Roid entered, not to him or any allies. Silence was the order of the day for the Metal Heads.
He knew that they were preparing themselves to die.
Kiff Fire was at the very back of the small encampment, her bulky body healed already from the wounds Hirmoyarbeshi had inflicted upon her. Espi Wind was by her side, his grip light but ready on his gun. He lifted a brow at Roid's approach.
"Kiff Fire," Roid said in greeting, giving a bow.
"What is it now, Roid?" Kiff wanted to know, shifting her weight on her awkward hunches. "We're preparing ourselves for your battle."
"I was merely seeing if you are ready. The fighting will start up again by early morning." He had heard Gareth and Ashelin telling Sala the very thing as he had slipped passed them and into the gardens. "This battle will be the time when we need your power the most, Kiff."
"And you will have it. Unlike humans, we Metal Heads are true to our words." Kiff and Espi gave a short laugh at that and Roid nodded, admitting that he was inclined to agree with them. He had never met a Metal Head who had gone back on his word.
Even Kor—the bastard that he was—had promised to do all that he could do to win the human world for Metal Heads and he kept that promise until his demise.
"That is all I wished to say to you, Kiff," Roid told her and gave another bow. "Good luck and watch your back on the battlefield. I need to return." He turned to go, to find his place by Cyren's side.
"That whelp of yours will keep awhile, Roid," Kiff said suddenly, her voice stopping him. "Espi, leave us a moment. I wish to have a private discussion with Roid."
"But Kiff—" Epsi began instantly, not ready to simply let Roid alone with Kiff for a moment.
"Epsi," Kiff Fire countered quickly, sliding her eyes over to his form. "Roid is, first and foremost, a Metal Head. My life isn't going to be threatened if I stand alone with him for a few moments."
For a moment, it looked like Epsi was going to continue to argue. Then he turned on his heel and walked off, sending a long, meaningful look to Roid as he walked away.
"Kiff, what is it?"
"Roid, come here." Kiff motioned Roid to her side and wouldn't say anything else until Roid had moved. "We were friends once, weren't we, Roid?"
"Kiff," Roid began, trying to keep exasperation out of his voice. "What is this all about?"
"Roid, we were friends when we were younger. But things got in the way. You with your human and I with my duties, but the friendship is still there." She sighed and hunkered down so she and Roid were nearly eye to eye.
"Please, Kiff, is this going to go anywhere? I have to get back—"
"To your human. Yes, I know, Roid. And I yes, it is going to go somewhere. I have a favor to ask of you." She took a pause of long silence, as if debating with herself who to approach him with it. "Today, Roid, many of my people will die."
"Yes, yes. I know that. That is what war is."
"I'm no stranger to sacrifice and death, Roid. We were raised on it, weren't we? Since birth." Kiff still didn't look down at him. Her eyes and her heart were somewhere else. "I'm aware that this day might claim my life as well."
"Don't say that," Roid interrupted quickly, shaking a hand lightly at her. "You're a survivor. The Metal Heads need you. You won't die, Kiff. Not today."
"You know there can be no guarantees, for anyone." She did face him now, her eyes bearing down into his. "That is why that I ask you, should I fall in battle today, that you take my place as leader."
"No, Kiff. You're not going to die today." Roid wasn't sure why he was so adamant of the fact. Kiff Fire was right. In this battle, there could be no guarantees, but he couldn't quite wrap his mind around the idea of Kiff dying.
"Promise me," Kiff went on, as if he hadn't spoken. "Promise me that you'll lead our people, Roid. I won't be able to go to the afterlife without knowing that you've made this promise to me."
"But what about Epsi, he—"
"Would not make a good ruler. Neither he nor I have any illusions about that fact. You know that as well as I. If he knows that it is my wish that you lead, he'll follow you without question, and he is an excellent spymaster. But he is not made for ruling an entire race, Roid." She reached out and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You are."
"I can't, Kiff. You know I can't. I gave it up years ago."
"As a friend, Roid, give me this promise." Kiff's eyes grew pained as she looked away from him. "I won't be able to go into battle peacefully without this promise."
"Fine. Fine. I promise, Kiff. Should something happen to you, I promise to assume rule of our people. This is my promise to you." Roid tapped her paw lightly with his own, sealing the deal. "But you aren't going to die this day."
"No, I'm not," Kiff agreed. "Now run back to your human, Roid. It appears that you think that the whelp cannot last a moment without your guidance."
He gave her another bow before turning.
"But we both know that isn't true," Kiff mused after he was gone.
--&--
Once more, the Holy City army and the Sage-Harmona ranks were formed. Armor was handed out and prayers were said. Krimzon Guard soldiers joined the ranks of the Holy City army this time. They would charge together.
The people from Sage-Harmona were now mixed in with the force, their faces looking just the same as everyone else. Just as ready to die and fight for their beliefs.
"A soldier is coming," Annityn announced from her perch on the stone walls. She glanced down at Gareth as he stood in front of the tightly sealed gate. "He carries a white flag."
"Let him in," Sala ordered with an incline of her head, her body straight, narrow and taut beside her husband.
The soldier waited for the gate to slid open, a long flag pole held in his hand. A white flay flapped in the wind as the horse whinnied nervously. The soldier urged the horse a few feet closer so he stood directly in front of Gareth and Sala, who stood at the front of the ranks.
"Lord General Hirmoyarbeshi wishes to meet with your leaders on the battlefield," the soldier said, motioning toward the very place the meeting had taken place the day before. "Now that all the leaders are here, the proper battle can begin."
"Tell your 'Lord General' we will come," Gareth snapped and the soldier nodded, not waiting a moment longer before kicking his horse into the direction of his army.
"We should just kill him," Jak said sourly as he came up on Gareth's side, watching as the soldier rode away. "We can just kill him and be done with it. One less soldier when we start."
"This is more than just fighting, Jak," Gareth said calmly, his voice even half-way amused. "This is politics as well. We both are trying to show that our side is better. Hirmoyarbeshi has extended this invitation to show that he is a gentleman. If we kill that soldier, if we don't go, we show that we are the barbarians and, thus, Hirmoyarbeshi is the one with the noble cause. Which, we both know, is not true."
"Fine. Fine. You do your politics things. I'm not going."
"Jak," Ashelin said suddenly, finally reaching Gareth and Sala. She was decked out in full Krimzon Guard battle gear and she looked at Jak with a slightly annoyed look. "You should—"
"This isn't my thing, Ashe," Jak said with a shrug. "You know that. I'll back you up wherever. I'll let you do your thing. But my place is here, with the soldiers. I'll charge with the rest. I'm no leader."
"I understand," Gareth agreed with a small nod. "Besides, I'll feel better if Jak's in the frontlines, with Torn."
"Hey, watch your back until I can find you." Jak stuck out his hand and Gareth shook it. They gave each other a hard, fast embrace. "Seriously, Gareth, watch it. I don't want to see you go down until we're back to back."
Gareth smirked at him as he reached out for the horse a soldier brought him. "You better watch yours, Jak," he answered as he mounted, waiting patiently for his wife and Ashelin to join him. "Until we're back to back."
As Ashelin and Sala joined him, Gareth looked down at Nyx and Nik as they moved to take their previously occupied spots. He nodded to them, knowing that he could completely trust in their ability to lead the front.
"Where's Cyren?" he asked, realizing that Cyren Yoshimoro deserved to meet Hirmoyarbeshi more than anyone else. "Cyren Yoshimoro!"
The young man in question came up without a horse and didn't look like he was too pleased with the idea of going with them. He already had his bow staff grasped tightly in his hands.
"Get him a horse," Sala ordered and a soldier darted to obey her command. "Cyren, you're the rightful heir to Sage-Harmona. If anyone should be riding to meet with him, it should be you."
"But I don't want to—"
"Face your destiny," Ashelin advised the boy with a tough look in her eyes. "This isn't the time to hesitate. These are your people and that is your city. It's time you fight for it. You're Cyren Yoshimoro, aren't you?"
Cyren lifted his eyes to the soldier that brought him his steed. For a moment, it looked as if he wouldn't take it. Then, very slowly, he took hold of the reins and mounted, his back stiff, straight and proud.
"Yes," he answered Ashelin. "I am."
"Then, let's go," Sala said and went to kick her horse into action.
"Wait!" Crea shouted suddenly, racing up to them, Venn on her heels. "I'm going with you." She looked more than able to keep up with them, even without a horse. There was something glittering dangerously in her eyes.
"Crea," Nyx said, glancing at her sister from her place beside her husband. "This is for… for the leaders. You need to go back into the lines, Crea. Prepare yourself for battle."
"I need to be there," Crea snapped out, her voice holding more emotion in it. Then she controlled it and lifted her chin. "Besides, I am no longer with the Holy City, am I? I can go where I please."
"Well, look—" Ashelin began, frowning.
"We want to go as well," Tage said, stepping forward. Annityn was right behind him. "We betrayed those people. We switched sides. We need to face them."
Annityn remained silent, but seemed unwilling to move. Cyren gave Tage an odd look, surprised that Tage would even be able to refer himself and Annityn together. Tage merely nodded to Cyren.
"Where Crea goes, I go," Venn cut in, placing a hand on Crea's shoulder. "And I'm not part of the Holy City either."
Nyx gave a long-suffering sigh and Nik just shrugged.
"We all can't be soldiers, love," he pointed out.
"Let's just go," Gareth snapped. "We don't have time for this. If you're coming, come. If not, get in the ranks and stay focused!"
As they rushed out from the Holy City gates, Jak drew himself to Torn, who stood with Keira and Daxter. Both Torn and Keira would be fighting in the thick of things, with Daxter taking the walls and acting as the last line of defense.
He stared at them, memorizing their faces. His two best friends and the love of his life. He reached out and took Keira's hand, drawing her closer, as his eyes met with both Torn and Daxter.
"We're going to make it through this," Jak said slowly, almost as if he was absolutely sure of this. "And then we're going to go home. And we're going to make Haven City what it—we're going to make it even better."
"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Jak." Torn paused and then punched him lightly in his shoulder. "No actual dying this time, okay Jak? Hate to have to take my anger out on your pathetic carcass."
Jak managed a laugh. "You got it, Torn."
"It's good to have you back buddy," Daxter said and grinned cheekily over at Jak, his smile hinting at what used to be Daxter. "We're gonna raised hell when we get back, aren't we?"
"Don't you think we're a little to old for that?"
"Oh right. Well. We have seventeen years to make up, you know." He turned and walked off, in the direction of the Healers.
"We are going to make it through this, aren't we?" Keira asked as Jak brought her into a hug. "We are going to go back to Haven City, right?"
"Yeah. Keira, we're all going to make it." Jak glanced down at his hand, felt the powerful trickle of magick. It had gotten stronger since his meeting with Lokin the previous night. "I'll do whatever it takes."
"Alright. I'm ready." Keira tapped the blade of her glaive, strapped tightly to her back. "Stick by me?"
"You bet."
Further down, Tess stood with Maelia, embracing her tearfully.
Sniffling, Tess brushed away some of Maelia's messy coils. "Now, you be careful, alright? I can't look after you today. I'll be in the back with the other Healers. So I need you to promise me that you'll be careful."
"I will, Mommy." Maelia gave her mother another fierce hug and fought back all her tears. "You be careful, too. Hirmoyarbeshi might send soldiers after the Healers."
They smiled at one another, grinning from ear to ear despite the fact that they were minutes away from war and death. Tess's eyes went sly as her smile turned down slightly.
"You and Ryu made up, didn't you?" Tess asked, her voice half teasing. Maelia blushed right to the roots of her hair.
"Mom!"
"A mother always knows." Tess said and hugged her daughter again. "I need… I need to go talk to your father, alright? Be careful, Maelia. Oh, please, be careful!"
Maelia gave her another nod before darting back to her position. Tess watched her go, her eyes wet and sad. She didn't say anything as Daxter approached her and took her hand. But she turned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
"Everything's going to be alright," Daxter promised her, stroking her hair. "We're all going to be fine. Jak said so."
"Yes, and he knows." Tess rubbed her nose and looked up at him. "Our daughter, Dax, she's so strong and proud and independent. She grew up without our help."
"I know, I know." Daxter pressed his mouth to her hair and held her tightly for another moment. "I can see it, Tess. But we'll make up for it. When we get back, we'll be the parents Maelia deserves."
It was such a bittersweet pride, seeing that Maelia had become so strong without them. She was an independent woman, able to take care of herself. And that gave every parent pride. But they had been absent in her life and it was bitter to know that Maelia's strength deserved no thanks from them.
Still sniffling, Tess nodded and watched as Daxter returned to his position.
Mar, she thought, watch over us.
--&--
In the Holy City palace, Sedet and the other children sat. They were directly in the center, guarded by high walls and stone. It was the safest place for them.
But they were all nervous. They were just children, ranging from infants to twelve years olds. Sedet walked between them all, making sure they were alright, making sure that everyone felt safe.
Of course, no one felt safe or secure. Some children were already orphans, and they sobbed quietly, wrapped in blankets. Everyone had nothing to say and nothing to do. Their families were fighting and dying and they, the children, had to wait.
"We're going to die, aren't we?" a little girl demanded, holding her baby brother against her breast, her cheeks caked with tears. "We're going to lose and they'll come in here and take us away and then they'll—"
"Stop it!" Merasaki cried, slapping her hands over her ears. "We're going to win! Stop lying!"
Sedet bent down beside the redhead and tried to smile at her, like his father had said to do. He was the leader of these children, he had to make them feel comfortable. He had to stop them from panicking.
"No, we're going to win this battle," Sedet said, trying to sound like his father whenever he spoke. Gareth had always sounded so sure of himself, so sure of his place and his focus and Sedet prayed he sounded a bit like his father. "You know why?"
Merasaki dropped her hands away and looked at him imploringly. "Tell us, Sedet. Tell us why."
Everyone chimed in, looking at Sedet with hope in their eyes. As if he held the key to salvation. He sucked in a breath and puffed out his chest and prayed that his father would be proud of him.
And that he wasn't lying.
"Because the legends are fighting for us. Down there, on the battlefield, is Jak Mar. And with him is Keira Kinover. The gods favor them and they've done amazing things and they're fighting for us." He stood then, pride gleaming in his eyes. "We have heroes fighting for us so we're going to win."
"And my mommy and daddy are fighting, too!" Merasaki chimed in suddenly, jumping to her feet with a wide grin. "And so are the king and queen!"
"My daddy is going to win," Sedet said with certainty in his voice, and in his heart.
--&--
Hirmoyarbeshi and the Mage were waiting for them.
They were just two men on horses, but somehow there seemed to be an aura of danger around them. Perhaps that was just the Mage, old and wrinkled, smirking on his horse as he watched his enemies approach.
He recognized them, all of them. His brain was full of outside knowledge and secret things he shouldn't know. When he smiled it was full of a haughty nature. Even his horse seemed to be beyond human conception, drunk with magickal power.
Only Sala, Gareth, Ashelin, and Cyren rode horses. The rest of them—Annityn, Tage, Crea, and Venn—followed swiftly on their feet.
"Welcome," the Mage said in greeting, his smile enigmatic and dangerous as his eyes swept over each and every one of them. Yet it seemed as if his emotions were perfectly controlled.
His companion, on the other hand, was another story entirely. Hirmoyarbeshi's face was contorted in rage as his eyes blazed down onto Tage's. The younger man lifted his head proudly, not a hint of shame in his eyes for his betrayal of the army Hirmoyarbeshi had risen to conquer in the name of Sage-Harmona.
"I gave you a chance," he snarled at the former general, clenching his teeth. "I gave you a chance to beat back the weak blood of your father. But what do you do? You spit in it and you choose to die on the wrong side."
"My father," Tage shot back, his voice tight and controlled and his fists clenched. "Was a good man. A brave man. A man with morals. That, Hirmoyarbeshi, is something you lack."
"Rotten son of a whore," Hirmoyarbeshi snarled but turned his anger onto Annityn when Tage remained silent. "And you. I saved you from the dirty desert tribe and gave you a purpose. And you betray me. I should have slaughtered you with your mother."
Annityn said nothing. And not an inch of her moved. From her eyes to her toes. It seemed, as if for a moment, that she did not even breathe as she looked coldly into Hirmoyarbeshi's eyes blazing eyes.
"Come now. It will do no good. We've all cast our lots in and now we'll see the hazard of the die." The Mage was smiling as he placed one of his gnarled, wrinkled hands on Hirmoyarbeshi's arm. But his eyes drifted over to Annityn as well. "You're the only one I didn't see coming, you know. I too often underestimate the power of the human psyche."
Again, Annityn was stone silent.
But the Mage was already moving on. This time, his eyes slid up and down the form of Crea. He smiled slowly. "Ah, Crea."
The way he drawled out her name made the blonde woman in question shudder in horror and disgust, her eyes lowering instantly, flashing a blazing hatred. Venn stepped in front of her, his face overwhelmed with rage and hate.
"And you," the Mage went on, lifting a finger at Venn. "You were very useful to me."
"I'll kill you," Venn snarled, his fists clenched at his side.
Jovially, the Mage laughed. "That, my boy, I seriously doubt." In some sign, he tapped two fingers against his temple. "They don't call me the Mage for nothing, you know."
"That's enough," Ashelin snapped and glared over at Hirmoyarbeshi. "Why exactly did you call us out here, Hirmoyarbeshi?"
"To let you know," Hirmoyarbeshi answered, his eyes drifting over to Sala and Gareth. "There will be no surrender offered this time, Your Majesties. Your children and the old might be spared, if I'm in the right mood. If not…" he trailed off but there was no need for him to finish his sentence.
Everything suddenly went cold with Hirmoyarbeshi's words. It was a hard reminder of what they were fighting for.
"Oh, and is the Yoshimoro brat here?" As if noticing Cyren for the very first time, he blinked. "Do your family some honor, boy, and step forward."
Proudly, with his head high and his eyes bright, Cyren did. He didn't say anything but the look in his eyes did it for him. Through violet eyes was a promise to set things right. And Cyren meant to keep it.
Hirmoyarbeshi laughed. "You look like your father," he said and then paused, a slow grin covering his mouth. "Or, better yet, your aunt."
The young boy's face tightened but his emotions remained under control. "Hirmoyarbeshi, for all that you've done, for all those you've killed and harmed over the years, I'm going to see that you pay. And I'm going to reclaim my birthright."
"You sound like your father and aunt," Hirmoyarbeshi added, almost as if he was bored. "Spitting image of their side of the family, I'd say."
Cyren's eyes narrowed.
"That's enough," Gareth snapped angrily, gently pushing Cyren back. Cyren knew that he was going to have to move fast, as well. He was the target the moment the battle started. "We want to get to beating back you and your Mage."
Laughing, Hirmoyarbeshi raised his hands skyward. "The heavens are going to have to make room for the heroes I'm sending them."
Then he dropped them.
Like that the battle began. Cyren lunged backwards, rolling away from the sword Hirmoyarbeshi swung at him. The soldiers from both sides rushed forward while Cyren kept rushing back. He knew that he was retreating and it bothered him, but he also knew that he had to gain some leverage in the fight and Hirmoyarbeshi had all the strength.
He leapt down from his horse and started running right into the fey, ducking swords and bodies as he lost Hirmoyarbeshi in the mesh of death.
Aithne moved fast to him, her sais twirling around in her fingers as she sliced through a throat, leaping over the dead body to reach him. Jak was right behind, the Virgae-Mors sword already covered in blood. He nodded to Cyren once and kept going, intent on meeting with Gareth and Sala.
Keira wasn't far behind, either, but she ended up right in the center beside Torn. Jak paused, glancing over at Keira, but then turned and went after Gareth. With Torn by her side and a glaive in her hand, Keira was more than capable by herself.
Besides, he had made a promise.
Kiff Fire and her Metal Heads roared into the field moments after it started. They started taking down Sage-Harmona soldiers with a vengeance. And no one was deadlier than Kiff, who moved with amazing grace and deadly accuracy. Epsi Wind was by her side, as always, shooting whoever got in her way, protecting whoever was on his side.
Epsi Wind even shot a Sage-Harmona soldier who came after the Healers. Kiff Fire looked over at him in surprise, crushing the skull of a soldier who dangled between her claws. Then she nodded toward the Healers and Epsi moved to obey. He was to protect them.
Gareth was still mounted on his horse. Sala was by his side when she saw Ashelin being roughly cornered. She pointed quickly to Gareth before making her way over to help Ashelin out. Both women slid out of their saddles and disappeared into the dirt and bodies as the war raged on.
"Hey!" Jak called as he reached Gareth's side, hitting Gareth on the leg lightly. "Miss me?"
All around them was a wild, raging storm of people and violence. Cyren coughed and choked on dust and dirt as he fought beside Aithne. The soldiers were wild, driven forth by the need to win, to bring themselves honor.
Cyren felt sick to his stomach. He was killing so many people and they all looked the same, covered in dirt and blood.
Suddenly, Aithne went sprawling into the dirt, hitting her shoulder hard and hissing out in pain. For a wild moment, Cyren couldn't see her, lost among the bodies that were in constant movement.
"Aithne!" he called as she came back into his view. Aithne was pushing herself back onto her feet and Cyren rushed to her. "Aithne!"
Instinct had him ducking sideways and avoiding Hirmoyarbeshi as he charged into Cyren. As Cyren sidestepped to avoid being decapitated he lost track of Aithne again. But Aithne would have to wait because Hirmoyarbeshi was refusing to let Cyren out his sight.
"I'm going to kill you, boy," Hirmoyarbeshi shouted over the rage of war. "Just liked I killed your family."
His eyes narrowed and Cyren was done backing up. With a war cry, he leapt forward, swinging his bow staff in a high arch. The move surprised Hirmoyarbeshi enough to allow Cyren to get close enough to stab him in the chest. But Hirmoyarbeshi caught on and he pressed his boot to Cyren's torso and kicked him away.
The moment his back hit the ground, Cyren was scrambling to his feet. This man had murdered his family, killed everything that was his, and threatened the lives of those he loved. Cyren would not let him escape the battle alive.
But the sad truth was that Hirmoyarbeshi was simply a better fighter than Cyren. He was a Lord General, while Cyren had merely been trained for a number of years of his life. He could thrust his bow staff out, twirl it around, do any number of advanced moves with it but Hirmoyarbeshi was always ready to parry.
In a last ditch effort, Cyren made a risky twirl around, angling himself backwards and jabbing his staff hard over his bent head. He felt the resistance as he cut through Hirmoyarbeshi's wrist and he heard the man cry out, but he knew it wasn't nearly enough.
Sweat rolled down his face as Hirmoyarbeshi sent a swift, hard kick to the side of his cheek. Cyren rolled into the dirt and kept on rolling, trying to gain momentum to kick himself back to his face.
Hirmoyarbeshi was on him the moment he was up and Cyren turned just in time for his bow staff to block the downward angle of Hirmoyarbeshi's sword thrust.
Instantly, Cyren knew it was too late. He hadn't put up the defense in time. Hirmoyarbeshi easily keep his sword going straight through his bow staff and down into his chest—
Annityn stepped in between the two of them and the sword slid into her shoulder instead of Cyren's heart.
Even before Hirmoyarbeshi yanked his sword free, Cyren was on him. He swung his staff hard and the sharp end of it connected with Hirmoyarbeshi's face. The Lord General howled as he went tumbling off his horse into the dirt.
Cyren turned to make his way to Annityn, and saw that Tage already had her, Annityn's weapons gripped in his free fist and the girl's body in his arms.
"I've got her, Lord Cyren!" Tage shouted and disappeared back into the rush, heading right for Tess and the other Healers who hovered at the back of the battle. To her, Tage muttered angrily, "You idiot. What the hell where you thinking!?"
With Annityn heading off to be healed Cyren whirled back into his battle. He ducked a body that was thrown over his head and rushed to Hirmoyarbeshi as the man pulled himself to his feet.
There was a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back, and Cyren struggled against it. But then he recognized Gareth's hand.
"I want to fight him," Gareth said, looking toward the man as he drunkenly got to his feet, wiping the blood from his eyes.
Cyren almost said no. He wanted to take down Hirmoyarbeshi. This was the man who taken everything from him and the man that should have been his kill. Not Gareth's. A Yoshimoro's.
But he nodded all the same toward Gareth and ran in the opposite direction, calling out for Aithne.
Gareth broke into a run towards Hirmoyarbeshi. The man, bleeding from the side of his face, pulled himself up into his horse's saddle and looked back at the end of his own frontlines.
"Mage!" Hirmoyarbeshi shouted, his voice carrying even over the roar of the battle. "It is time to play our trump card!"
The Mage, who had placed himself at the back of the Sage-Harmona army to shoot from afar, looked toward the Lord General and nodded. He lifted his staff high into the air, the tip already glowing bright red.
"Arise and obey!" the Mage ordered, his voice somehow filling the entire battlefield.
Silence filled the air. Human and Metal Head alike lifted their heads as the Mage's power flowed over the battlefield. Blinding white light rendered everyone immobile for a moment until the smoke cleared.
And when it did countless Experiments stood behind the Mage, their faces lagging and their jaws slack. But there was an aura of danger around them and at the Mage's commander they would kill without mercy.
They were humans turned machines.
"Kill them," the Mage ordered and the Experiments sprung into action. Within the blink of an eye they were on the Holy City army, mercilessly cutting into them.
But right now, Gareth had one problem he had to solve first.
"Just you and me," he muttered to Hirmoyarbeshi as he approached, ducking an Experiment that had thrown itself at him. He swung his sword upward and cut the creature's head off, already knowing it was a mercy killing.
"I've been waiting for this," Hirmoyarbeshi said with a smirk and they charged at each other.
Sweat bunched on his arms as Gareth raised his sword to deflect the blade Hirmoyarbeshi jabbed at him. The Lord General's horse whinnied and leapt backward, kicking the air with its front hooves.
Their swords meet again, Gareth and Hirmoyarbeshi evenly matched. Gareth swung himself, trying to make up for his disadvantage of height, but Hirmoyarbeshi twisted his war horse around and Gareth missed him by a mile.
He stumbled back using the forward motion as momentum as he swung himself around, swinging his sword and cutting right across Hirmoyarbeshi's legs.
"This is the last time!" Hirmoyarbeshi roared and lunged at him, his horse galloping toward where Gareth stood.
Again, their swords meet. But Gareth feel exhaustion creeping in on him. Even though he lifted his sword and held back Hirmoyarbeshi's attack, he was too tired to do little else. And it was impossible to land a fatal hit with Hirmoyarbeshi on his horse.
Gareth arched forward, bringing the hilt of his sword hard across Hirmoyarbeshi's kneecap. He barely managed to dodge the sword that went swinging passed his face. He twisted the sword and jammed it upward, aiming for Hirmoyarbeshi's chin.
But the Lord General blocked it and had Gareth retreating with another colorful kick. Then the battle between them began all over again.
Jak saw them from his position nearly completely opposite from them. Gareth was severely dwarfed beside Hirmoyarbeshi's mountain of a steed. And though Jak knew Gareth and Hirmoyarbeshi were evenly matched, Gareth had no horse while Hirmoyarbeshi did.
Hang in there, Gareth, Jak thought and began to make his way over to his old friend. He caught the arm of a Sage-Harmona soldier that barreled in front of him. He dislocated it and left the soldier withering on the ground.
Hirmoyarbeshi and Gareth were just two men fighting a brutal, deadly battle with swords. There was no banter between them, just sheer concentration. Gareth attempted to flip his sword down and jam it into Hirmoyarbeshi's knee.
But Hirmoyarbeshi's foot shot out of nowhere. It connected hard with Gareth's chest and the man went stumbling back, sucking in a hard breath, ready to go at it again, to win the day for his wife and son.
Out of nowhere Hirmoyarbeshi's sword cut down. Gareth looked up just as the sword slid down into his chest, right passed his armor, and into his stomach.
Everything inside Jak went ice cold.
Gasping, Gareth cupped his chest as Hirmoyarbeshi yanked his sword out. Blood sprayed across Gareth's face as he took in another gasping, rasping breath and blood seeped between his fingers and rushed down his shirt. Jak was already moving to him, toward Gareth, as he stumbled back.
Hold on, Gareth! Hold on! I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm…
For a dizzying moment it looked as if Gareth regained his strength and his footing. But his foot slid against rock and sand and red splashed across his lips as he started to stumble back again, clawing at the air before he began to sink slowly—agonizingly slow—to the ground.
When Gareth, cupping his chest again, fell to the dirt and disappeared into the battlefield, Jak started screaming. With his Virgae-Mors sword raises high, Jak started racing forward. All he could see was Hirmoyarbeshi and how he wasn't bleeding.
Gareth, you better be alright.
But he had seen the way Gareth's eyes had widened in pain…
He refused to let himself think about it. But he realized as another war cry sounded that he was not the only one to see Gareth fall.
Kiff Fire started racing to Hirmoyarbeshi. Her sheer bulk would crush his heart and then Kiff's talon would take off the rest. The bloodlust was already present in Kiff's eyes. She had dreamt about this for years.
Time to start now. Time, Hirmoyarbeshi!
The Mage lifted his staff casually and something hard hit Kiff in her chest and she went spiraling sideways. She hit Jak Mar on her way to the ground and sent them both sprawling into the dirt. Jak's sword slid from his hands and disappeared under a rush of feet.
Groaning under the crushing weight of Kiff Fire, Jak managed to push her onto her side and scramble to his feet. He looked around vainly for his sword, but the legendary blade was long lost into the rush of the battle.
"Kill him," Kiff Fire rasped, her limbs twitching as the Mage's power left her. Dark blood ran down the side of her face as she held her cracked, golden skull. "You have to… kill him…"
Jak knew the Metal Head was long dead before he completely regained his balance. Kiff Fire, the Metal Head leader, was nothing more than a massive, bulky body bleeding onto the yellow sand. He didn't have time to mourn or to spare her a glance.
Hirmoyarbeshi would not get away with it.
A hot blast of magick shot by the side of his face and Jak jerked quickly around to the Mage, whose staff was now pointed directly him. Jak growled as he cart-wheeled away, sending the body of an Experiment thudding to earth.
Roid appeared on the Mage's side and threw himself right at the old man. They both went tumbling from the horse to the ground. Roid leapt to his feet, his talons bright with blood and ready to add the Mage's to their collection.
Calmly, the Mage pushed himself up. He was gone the moment Roid lunged at him again, only the tiniest trace of magick in his place.
Across the battlefield, Jak's eyes locked with Roid's. Then they both turned to look at Hirmoyarbeshi as he and his horse tore into Holy City lines. Jak gave a sharp nod and started toward him.
It didn't matter that Jak had no weapons. Jak was deadly without them. And Hirmoyarbeshi had taken down Gareth and Kiff Fire and now he was taking down faceless soldier after faceless soldiers.
And it was time he paid.
"Jak!" Keira cried, appearing feet away. Jak caught the glaive she tossed to him and watched as Keira darted over to Aithne and Cyren's side, grabbing a sword from a fallen enemy. Sig rushed up to her side, flanking her left, and together, like a time, they starting methodically taking enemies down.
With his wife's weapon in hand, Jak picked up his speed. He wasn't used to the light weightiness of the glaive, but his muscles—strained and aching—adjusted to the sudden shift. The silver, curved blade glinted in the sunlight as he made a beeline straight for Hirmoyarbeshi.
The Lord General saw him coming and he raised an eyebrow questioningly, almost half amused. But the look quickly died down as Jak continued his mad charge, swinging the glaive out in an upward arch.
The power behind Jak's attack had Hirmoyarbeshi's hold on his horse lessen. Sensing the weakness, Jak twisted his arm and brought the blunt hilt of the glaive down across the horse's head. The beast reared up, whinnying, and Hirmoyarbeshi went tumbling off and into the dirt.
But he was up even before Jak could reach him. He caught Hirmoyarbeshi's sword with the curved blade and twisted it away from his face, his feet sliding in the sand as he sliced his blade through the air.
Hirmoyarbeshi was good, Jak would have to admit that much. He was fast and deadly and had every intention of winning.
Their blades meet. Jak grunted and pressed his whole weight into the sword. He felt the hot steel nearly touch his throat as he strained his neck forward and his foot nearly lost its standing.
Without warning, Jak jerked his head forward. His forehead cracked hard against Hirmoyarbeshi's the man stumbling back in surprise, a line of blood running down his face.
Jak swung the glaive's deadly blade toward Hirmoyarbeshi's stomach. Hirmoyarbeshi, despite the blood dripping into his eye, slapped his sword out and blocked Jak's attack, hissing at him.
But that was what Jak had been hoping he would do. Hirmoyarbeshi might have been a good soldier, but he wasn't like Jak at all. Hirmoyarbeshi was bound by rules and strict training. Jak was not.
A hard grin crossed his face and Jak jerked the glaive straight up. The hard, hollow staff hit Hirmoyarbeshi in the face. Hirmoyarbeshi's hold weakened just enough for Jak to twist himself away, the spin giving him a hard momentum.
"You son of a bitch!" he shouted as loud as he could, choking on dust and the putrid smell of death in the air. "You son of a bitch!"
"You can't—" Hirmoyarbeshi tried to say.
The glaive cutting right into his hip stopped him. Gasping out in pain, Hirmoyarbeshi looked down as Jak dug the glaive all the way into his body, breaking bone and hitting vital organs.
Blood poured down the Lord General leg as Jak backed away. Hirmoyarbeshi made some vain attempt to halt the flow of blood even as he fell face first into the dirt. He clutched uselessly at the earth as Jak hovered him.
"You can't—you can't beat—" Hirmoyarbeshi stuttered, choking on his own blood as he stared up at just. "Sage-Harmona—you can't—"
He never finished his thought. He was dead and his body thudded to the ground, his face pressed into the sand.
There was no taste of victory in Jak's mouth. All around him the war raged on and he could smell death and the cries of pain. The Experiments were driven and deadly without humanity.
At the very back of Sage-Harmona's line Jak saw the Mage, directing the Experiments with his power. His fingers were aglow with his magick and he was smiling, even though he had to know that by know Hirmoyarbeshi had fallen.
Then it hit Jak.
We're losing?
Even with Hirmoyarbeshi dead and the Sage-Harmona beaten back—even with the Holy City joined with the citizens of Sage-Harmona and the Metal Heads—somehow they were loosing.
It was the Mage. Suddenly, it was clear. The Mage was the link that kept them going. Not Hirmoyarbeshi. As long as the Mage still breathed he would control the Experiments. And the Experiments weren't like normal humans. They didn't know pain or fear and so they would not stop.
Not until everyone of those fighting for the Holy City were dead.
Quickly he turned to find Sala or Ashelin—oh Goddess, Gareth. To try to formulate a quick plan of action to take the Mage down.
Pain exploded in Jak's side.
Gasping, he twisted his torso around and gripped the shoulders of an Experiment as it pressed its talon-like fingers into Jak's side. He felt the crack of his ribs as hissed out in pain, digging his fingers into the bare, pale skin of the dead-eyed creature.
Keira's glaive cut the Experiment's throat and Jak cried out in pain as the hand was ripped from his side as the dead body fell to the earth.
He grasped his wound, felt the blood pour out of him, and bent over into the sand.
It didn't seem possible. They were supposed to be winning this. They had killed Hirmoyarbeshi, beaten back his army, brought all those who stood for goodness together… and they were still losing?
This wasn't supposed to happen! We were supposed to win!
The war raged on around him. He could hear the shouts and the screams of his allies, the grunts and howls of the Experiments. Black dots appeared in front of his eyes as he drew in a shaky breath.
Keira…
There had to be a way to get up. A way to win. A way to fight back and beat them. But Jak was so tired and exhausted. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep forever. He couldn't move and his body was numbing as the warmth from his blood left him.
I'm sorry, Keira.
Desperately, Jak called out for Keira in his mind, but everything that needed to be said and done was lost in the heavy sounds of war.
A cold hand closed around Jak's throat and he closed his eyes. He pictured Keira and Aithne and everyone who was his friend. In his mind he held Keira and held her tight and told her he loved her and closed his eyes, trying to find a way to accept what was happening, praying that Keira would understand—
Then hands were yanking him up.
"Jak!" Aithne's face came into his hazy view and he stared at her as she dragged him into a sitting position. There was blood on her face, caked with dirt, and her arms were cut and bruising but there was still strength in them. "Tess!"
The blonde woman came rushing over to them, her own body pale from using so much magick at once. But her face was coated with determination and she reached out for Jak, more than ready to heal him.
An Experiment barreled right into them. Tess hit the ground screaming, pushing at her enemy. Something sharp prickled her neck and she knew that she was going to die, right there, and so was Jak because he was bleeding so bad.
But then the body of the Experiment slumped against her. Hot blood splashed her cheeks as it poured out from the tiny dent in the creature's skull. Even though Tess couldn't see—because it was so far away and because her eyes were clouded with tears—she felt Daxter lower his gun, breathing hard.
"Mommy!" Maelia kicked the Experiment's body off her and dragged Tess to her feet. "Are you alright? Mommy?"
Tess was already looking for Jak and Aithne. But a wall of bodies blocked her view and she couldn't remember where she had been running to.
"You have to help me find Aithne and Jak!" she shouted at her daughter, gripping her arm hard. "Maelia, Jak's injured."
"Alright," Maelia began and then quickly cut herself off, firing her gun as an Experiment pounced on them. They backpedaled away, dodging the wicked fast swipes of deadly talons, Maelia with one arm thrown out protectively in front of Tess.
Daxter took another bull's-eye and sent the Experiment twitching into the earth.
"Faster!" the Mage shouted, pointing toward the Holy City. "Harder! Drive them back!" His fingers were glowing as bright as the jewel on his staff and his eyes were mad for bloodlust.
And his bloodlust drove the Experiments on.
Aithne pressed her shaking hands into Jak's wound as he gasped and gurgled underneath her. She kept her head lower and her body still, braced for any attack that would fall on them in such a venerable position.
"Don't you dare," she hissed at him, gritting her teeth as she clamped her hands firmly over the wound. "Don't you dare."
"Ait—Aithne run," Jak rasped, his body twitching underneath her hands. The heat of his blood washed over them. He reached out and grabbed the hand she had closed over his wound to stop the bleeding. "Run."
Then the strangest thing happened. Aithne looked right into his eyes, right into them, and it was like watching a well open. Emotion just seemed to swim there for an impossible moment.
The first tear came. Then the second. And suddenly a never-ending waterfall was running Aithne's face. She sobbed messy, rasping tears, her cheeks scrunching up as she wept, pressing her head right into Jak's bloody wound. She sucked in a hard breathe, releasing it on a great, sobbing exhale.
"You can't leave us again," she managed as hot, salty tears started to hit Jak's cheeks. "You can't leave our lives, not after you just entered them. I won't let you. I won't let Mom cry herself to sleep every night from missing you."
"Aithne—"
"I want to get to know you better, too," she cut in, choking on another sobbing. "I want to know who you are, Jak Mar."
"Aithne!" Jak tried to point but he was too weak. He could only look over Aithne's shoulder in horror as the Experiment loomed over them.
Aithne turned just in time to watch as the Experiment was thrown to the ground. Cyren pressed his jagged bow staff right into the creature's chest and sent it to the floor without so much as a twitch.
Cyren dropped to his knees by Aithne's side. He watched as she pressed her hands into Jak's side, her hands dying crimson. He touched her arm lightly, his face tight with worry and sympathy.
"Aithne, we have to retreat soon. Sala's going to sound the alarm," he said as gently as he could. As Aithne said nothing, Cyren looked over to meet with Jak's eyes. They both knew the same thing.
There was no way to move him. Not without killing him.
Unaware of their silent conversation, Aithne lifted her head and surveyed the battleground before her. She could see her mother, battling beside Sig. Keira had managed to find Jak's Virgae-Mors sword and she was cutting through her enemies with it, Sig carefully watching her back, taking down those she couldn't.
Sala and Ashelin were the only people on the Holy City side left mounted. Sala's horse was covered in blood and Ashelin's armor was gleaming with sweat. They were doing what they could to stop the flow of Experiments but it was useless. Ashelin was bleeding heavily from her shoulder and there was a trickle of blood flowing steadily down Sala's face.
Torn and Ryu were beside Tess and Maelia as they bent down to bind up a fallen soldier. Torn's face was tight and his leg looked as it had been nearly broken in half. He wasn't giving up and he wasn't letting anyone get close to Tess and Maelia as they worked. Ryu was guarding their back, his teeth gritted and his face tight with pain. He had an assortment of wild bruises and lacerations across his face and body, but he paid them no mind. Tess's skin was pale and clammy from using so much magick and Maelia arms were shaking so badly it looked like she would just drop her gun.
Further back stood Annityn, Tage, and Roid. Annityn had recovered from her shoulder wound and now supported Tage with her arm as he slumped against her, blood pouring out from his mouth as he gripped his wounded hip. Roid was in front of Annityn, acting as her guard, as she kept Tage on his feet.
Crea and Venn had been separated from the Holy City ranks and they fought by Epsi Wind. Venn had lost his coat somewhere in the fray and his arms were covered in his own blood. Crea's leggings were ripped and torn and she had cuts decorating the bared skin. Epsi Wind was bleeding from his chest, his scaly hide thick enough to keep it from hindering him. They were all exhausted, and all bloody, barely on their feet as they tried to fight back.
They were losing. Aithne could see it. She felt it in the air as she sucked in a breath. This war had been lost the moment the Mage had summoned forth the Experiments. They couldn't beat back what wasn't alive. What didn't know defeat.
It wasn't supposed to happen like this…
"Not like this," Aithne whispered as she turned her head and met Cyren's eyes. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. We were supposed to win."
A Metal Head went crashing right by Aithne's side. She yelped in surprise and Cyren threw his arms across her face, shielding her from the dirt and pebbles that were kicked up in the body's wake.
Not like this!
Something burst inside her, almost like a dam. Fire coiled low in her gut and Aithne spasmed in sudden pain, taking her hand away from Jak's wound. Her insides were heating up, burning. On fire.
Cyren hissed and snatched his hands away from her face, as if her skin physically burned. He stared at her, his eyes wide in horror and his mouth moving to form a name.
An inhuman howl suddenly rose up. All around them the Experiments stopped moving, their talons turning on themselves. Each and every one of them clawed at their skin, as if they were being destroyed from the inside out. Their screams of agony were inhuman, unimaginable as human and Metal Head alike stopped fighting to watch them wither in pain.
The Mage, watching, frowned suddenly and his jaw gave one mighty spasm. He lifted his staff and a magickal shield appeared around him.
"Cyren," Jak hissed, his face clenching with pain. His hand clenched into a fist, the muscles twitching. "Cyren, run."
"What?" Cyren looked down at Jak and gasped. Aithne was motionless behind him, her eyes focusing on the distance.
Jak was hissing in pain, his fingers tightening on his pant leg. The blood flowing steadily from his wound boiled and bubbled, as if it was being heated. It was a searing, unbearable pain and Cyren could only watch in fascination. The boiling blood seemed to be stitching up Jak's wound; the skin was searing itself back together.
Aithne gave a wild howl, clawing at her throat. Fire was eating up her esophagus and she couldn't breathe. Her whole body felt like it would explode. She tried to suck in a breath but tasted only the heat of fire. It licked at the side of her temples, at the tips of her fingers.
And she could only see one thing. One thing over and over again. Get it out! Get it out!
Without truly understanding what she was doing, she threw her power out. Everyone around her collapsed. Fire lapped at her enemies, and half were dead before they hit the ground, their insides melted apart. Even fewer got back off the ground. And those that did took to the hills, survival instincts taking over them.
"Come back!" the Mage shouted at the top of his lungs, shaking his staff at the Experiments as they scampered off. "Come back!"
But, for this one moment, the Experiments were human and they followed only their instincts to escape and live.
Sage-Harmona and Holy City soldier alike hit the ground as well, the fire scalding them. But they were spared the torment and the pain the Experiments were given.
But Aithne kept on withering. She didn't know what was happening, all she knew was that she had to keep throwing the fire away from her before she burned up. Her skin was a too hot to touch and her eyes turned bright deadly white.
"Aithne!" Cyren shouted, not daring to touch her. Aithne's skin turned brilliant white, hot white, and the heat emitted off her in waves.
It was as if the world had stilled. As if everything was in slow motion. For a moment, there was only Aithne, her white, burning face tilted to the sky as power leaped off her in long waves.
To breathe was to taste the power flowing from her. She was everywhere for one long moment, touching everything. Aithne Hagai was everything. The world was tinted in the same brilliant light that Aithne was colored in.
Then it stopped. The power died just as quickly as it came. The white light that filled the air disappeared like smoke after a fire. It was as if nothing had happened. As if the Experiments hadn't been struck down in one mighty blow. As if the Holy City hadn't been losing moments before.
As if Jak had never been injured.
There was only Aithne, staring out into the nothingness, her face perfectly still and unreadable. Her eyes were dilated to the point of discoloration. The only part of her that moved were her hands, which shook as if an earthquake rocked them.
Blood started pouring down her face, seeping from her very pours. It was as if the wild power that had fluxed from her had widened the pours of her skin enough for blood to escape through. She bled from almost every part of her body.
Weakly she collapsed against Cyren moaning in his arms. Jak pushed himself into a sitting position, his wound completely healed.
"Wha—" Cyren stuttered, his body shaking as he tried to wipe the blood away from Aithne's face. Even now the flow of it from her pours was slowing, but he knew that she was dangerously close to losing too much blood. "What?"
"Aithne! Jak!" Keira shouted as she raced across the now still battlefield. She dropped to her knees beside Cyren, shakily pressing her hands against her daughter's sticky shoulders. "What happened to her? Is she going to be alright?"
Jak didn't answer her as he stared hard at Aithne's still form.
Sala slid from her horse and nodded to Ashelin, who went to find her son and husband. Nik and Nyx—both exhausted and wounded—flanked her quickly and followed her as she approached the Mage. They were covered in a fine sheen of sweat and Nik was limping badly on his right leg. Nyx's eye was swollen and her back was bleeding in a slow, steady pace.
"Surrender," Sala croaked, her voice hoarse from shouting. She carried a deep wound, but there was something growing in her heart. She pointed her sword at the Mage. "Do it. Now."
The Mage raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I don't think I'm quite ready to give up yet."
Smirking, the Mage pulled the robe off his body. He, completely naked and snow-white pale, stood before Sala. Then he backed up and the whole earth began to quake.
"Move!" Nik grabbed Sala's arm and he and Nyx hastily brought their queen backwards, away from the Mage.
Suddenly there was a burst of crimson fire. The power was so much stronger than Aithne's. It consumed the Mage whole, swallowing his face. Fire burst out like a geyser, up to the sky. Heat seemed to touch everything. Those who got to their feet shook with fear as the wave of power washed over them.
And then, the Mage rose up.
Only he wasn't the Mage. His body was longer, his arms stretched out with flaming feathers. His face had been transformed into a beak and his feet were talon like and sharp. A long, fiery tail swished back and forth as beady, black eyes looked down at the world below it.
The Mage had transformed into a bird. And just not any bird.
Nyx sucked in a breath, instantly recognizing the body shape and the flaming feathers. She nearly collapsed to her knees in fear, but she couldn't move. Nik grabbed her arm roughly and hauled her against his body, as if he wanted to protect her.
"The Phoenix…" she whispered in horror.
"No," Crea hissed out as she and Venn hit the dirt hard, grappling for a hold on one another as the Phoenix raised high above them. "No."
The Phoenix climbed higher into the air, fire shooting off of it and hitting the ground. Tiny, hard balls of pure flame and power. Its call screeched high above their heads as it caught the rays of the sunlight.
"What do we do!?" Keira demanded as she stared at the Phoenix. She turned to her husband. "Jak, what do we do?"
Shaking off what fatigue was in him, Jak pushed himself to his feet. His palm was tingling, like spider webs of power shooting up into his arms. He looked at Keira steadily in her eyes.
"I have a plan," he told her and reached out for her. "Keira, give me your—"
"Wait," Roid interrupted as he came up on Cyren's side. His eyes met with Jak's. "You can't get passed the Phoenix's power. No matter what you have up your sleeve, it won't let you get passed him. Human skin is too fragile."
"We don't have much of a choice," Jak pointed out. "What else can we do?"
Wordlessly, Roid bent down and Cyren turned his head to look up at him. "Rule the city well, Cyren. Do your aunt's memory and dreams proud." The Metal Head turned and leaned over to Aithne, rubbing away some of the blood covering her face. "Have a good life, Aithne. Live well."
His claws closed over Aithne's sais, nearly forgotten in the dirt beside her. Roid stood, the weapons clutched tightly in one hand, and stared at the Phoenix and it released another wave of fiery magick.
"Roid, what—"
But Roid was already running across the desert, refusing to listen to Cyren's words. He knew what needed to be done, and Jak would know how to finish what Roid started. All he could do was give them the opening.
"Roid!"
Fire hit him hard, the flames licking and scolding his flesh. The metal of the sais in his hands started to melt and his scales started to peel away from his body, the sheer fire making them loose their hold. But Roid would not be stopped. He could not be stopped. He kept going.
Rosalyn…
The power of the flames was nearly enough to force him back, but Roid refused to surrender his ground. He kept moving, kept digging his feet in and pushing onward, even as he felt the blood bubble and boil in his veins.
"Do you honestly think that you can kill me? That you stand a chance. I'm immortal. I'm beyond you, foolish Metal Head," the Phoenix hissed into his ears. It was a telepathic link, Roid knew instantly. Birds, even ones as powerful as the Phoenix, could not speak.
Bending his head into his chest, he kept going. Though he couldn't say it Roid thought his retort to the Phoenix, knowing very well he could hear him. I'm not here to beat you. I'm hear to help someone else do the honor.
His sais connected with the Phoenix's torso and Roid pushed himself into the air, his wings spreading and lifting him up even as they caught fire. The Phoenix howled and jerked as Roid buried the second sai deep into his chest.
They rose up even higher into the air. Roid's claws burned and peeled as the fire from the Phoenix's very body destroyed them. His wings, burning, pulled close to his body in some vain form of protection.
Then Roid felt it. The rip of skin. He slid down a number of inches as the Phoenix's chest gave way to the powerful incision he made with the right sai. Hot, warm blood splattered across Roid's face. It burned acid, but he fought through the pain and yanked the second sai down with him.
The Phoenix screeched and gave one mighty shudder. Roid's grip slackened and he went crashing to the ground, countless feet above it.
Blackness swarmed his vision as the brilliant sun, coupled with the brilliant Phoenix, burned his eyes. He heard rather than felt the crack of his bones as he hit the ground. He was too weak to move, too weak to suck in a breath.
The blackness covered everything.
Rosalyn, you'd be proud of me, right? He thought the moment before he lost himself.
Jak and Keira stood side by side as they watched the Phoenix wither in pain, trying to find some way to relieve the suffering Roid had caused. They had both seen the Metal Head hit the ground, but the Phoenix had shot off a wave of pain and he had been lost in the fire.
"What are you going to do?" Keira asked her husband.
"Give me your hand," Jak said suddenly, turning to look at her hard in the eyes. "I need your hand, Keira."
"What, why?" Keira was already holding hers out and watching as Jak's hand, the palm glowing silvery, closed over hers.
"It's something I learned during the seventeen years apart," Jak told her, looking right into her eyes. "I want you to concentrate, summon what power you can into this hand. That's all."
"But, Jak—"
Keira had never been too keen on using her power. Sometimes it was just too massive. She had only used it during her battle with the goddess of Chaos, Eris. Even then she had held back, and they both knew it.
"I need to do this, Keira. Please." Even before he finished his sentence, Jak felt the flux of power suddenly flowing into his palm. "Your magick—the magick that immortals use—I found out that it's—it's… Keira, it's the ancestor to eco."
"Eco?" Keira stared at him, watching as his body began to take on an unearthly glow. It was a shade of white, but it seemed more otherworldly than Aithne's. It was tinted with blue and seemed to swarm with power.
"Not just eco." Jak dropped her hand suddenly, his whole arm started to glow completely white tinted with blue. "Light Eco."
Before she could say another word, Jak's hand cupped her face. She felt the cool, watery feel of the power collected on his palm before she felt the slid of his lips against hers. She gasped against his mouth, leaning into him.
She tasted power on his lips. Wild, unbelievable power. But she sensed that it was controlled. It wasn't unbearable like Aithne's was. It was tight and controlled and carefully watched over.
"Jak," she murmured against his mouth, covering the hand he placed on her face. She wanted to keep him to her, lock him close. Never let him go again.
But he was already backing away. His eyes were locked with hers and he never looked away, not even as the glowing white light seeped up his arm and all over his body. Keira sucked in a breath of shock as his eyes turned eggshell white.
Then his whole body was white and his eyes didn't belong to Jak anymore, but someone completely different. It was like watching Dark Jak appear; only this creature was dispassionate and completely cold.
Wings sprouted out from the being's back, long tendrils that seemed to be gossamer spider webs. Keira wanted to reach out and touch them, to feel the cool, watery texture of them, but she couldn't move.
Jak's wings spread out and he lifted himself into the air. He was still looking at her, but Keira couldn't see Jak in his eyes anymore.
Keira knew that this was something different. Completely different from anything Jak had ever done before. And she knew its name. Without having to be told, she somehow knew its name.
This was Light Jak.
Notes: hopefully that was just a tab bit surprising to ya'll, right? I wanted to get either Light Jak or Dark Jak in there at the end, and since Dark Jak got to save the day in the prequel, I thought it was time for Light Jak to shine. Ha… pun.
Act XXVI: it's time for Light Jak to show us what he's made of. But is it enough to take down the Phoenix?
reviews
Carree: I'm glad you liked the long-awaited Jak/Keira reunion. I can't tell you how many times that had to be rewritten before I was satisfied with it. XD It was difficult not to make that over the top.
Darkening Lightning: yeah, Lokin really isn't on Jak's side, obviously. He's on his side. He's kinda like a "grey" area out of the good and bad guys. It's hard to tell just what his true motives are, but they will be revealed.
Xazz: this chapter had a lot of rush to it, too, but it was a lot grimmer to. And I hope Light Jak was awesome enough for you.
Light-Eco-Sage: bittersweet reunions win at life. As long as they're not happening to me.
Quick: sorry, I couldn't find a way to fit Dark Jak in there. Well, I couldn't figure out how to get both Light Jak and Dark Jak in the story. Plus, there's not like there's an abundance of light eco where they're fighting.
jaklover123: yes, that is exactly what the Goddess said. And everything, especially that and its affects, will be explained before this story is over. As for happy endings, you'll just have to see!
ChatterBox101: no need to explain. I understand how life at get way when you least expect it. I'm just glad you're still reading. And we're almost to the finish line!