Author's Note: Well here we are, the epic duel! My apologies if the length is offputting; there was just too much I wanted to put into this one before I lost the chance.
XXIX. FLASHING BLADES
Sir Athryn's eyes quivered, riveted to the ground where the heaped remains of Sir Nycol lay, the rock forever stained by that pure blood. His mouth made tremulous motions of speech, but no words would issue forth. There were no words to describe the agony he felt in that dark moment.
"Sir Nycol?" Sir Dyarka called to no avail as he climbed ashore, his cuirass bent inward from the blow Sir Kyra had delivered before. He could only hope the core remained undamaged.
"It cannot be," Sir Yzak scoffed from behind, his one good eye staring at the battered corpse in disbelief. "Damn you, Stryke!" he cursed, leaping forward and releasing a bolt from Shiva on impulse.
"Sir Athryn!" Sir Dyarka called out sprinting towards them, culverin raised as he fired a round from its bored shaft.
Turning toward the interlopers, Sir Kyra pulled his eyes away from the body splayed out before him to raise his shield feebly to deflect the bolt from Sir Yzak. Leaping backwards at the last moment, the rock where he stood exploded into a plume of shards and smoke from Busdir's deadly missile.
"Sir Kyra what is keeping thee?" he heard the voice of Lieutenant Natarle shout from across the water, the question followed by a bombardment of cannonfire which shook the ground as it exploded amidst Sir Yzak and Sir Dyarka.
"Return hence! I told you there is no reason to pursue them any further!" Captain Murrue called out.
A moment of indecision plagued the Adept as he regarded Sir Athryn's wounded form. Shaking his head, he grit his teeth and soared across the water back to the Archangel.
"You will not escape!" Sir Yzak snarled, the oncoming spell fueled by nothing but pure hatred, outstretching his hand as a flurry of lightning bolts crackled and snaked out towards Sir Kyra. The attack was quickly met by a renewed volley from the Archangel, however, forcing the impetuous Knight to a halt.
"Stop this, Sir Yzak!" Sir Dyarka urged, taking charge in the face of Sir Athryn's collapse. "As of now, we need to fall back!" he ordered, firing another round from his culverin to cover their retreat. He knew their Armor would not withstand much more from that ship's powerful enchanted munitions.
Sir Yzak grit his teeth in frustration, knowing his friend was indeed correct but subverted from within by his pride and the hatred he felt.
"Sir Athryn!" Sir Dyarka called out once more.
Sir Athryn gasped as he snapped back to attention, his military training taking hold as his mind went blank, his muscles moved by nothing but raw, trained instinct. Breaking into a sprint, he joined Sir Dyarka and Sir Yzak, fleeing the barrage from the Archangel's cannons as they headed to the water. He cast a glance backward toward the broken pieces of Blytz one last time, hating himself for having to leave his friend like this.
"The battle is ended. Full speed ahead!" Captain Murrue shouted behind the helmsman.
Setting down upon the lower balcony outside the Armory, Sir Kyra fell to one poleyn, his Armor severely scorched from the heavy magickal assault it had endured. He was breathing heavily, his heart pounding inside his chest. The raw images replayed in his mind over and over, the gruesome fate he had dealt. What bothered him most perhaps was his confusion over why it had affected him so, after all this time. He had felled scores of enemies by now, his fights growing steadily shorter as he continually devised swifter ways to execute his opponents, his magick reflecting the violence in his spirit as it wreaked greater destruction. It was a necessity, Lady Fllay had told him. He had to put an end to this bitter war once and for all if his friends were to survive and people spared further tragedy from its horrors. He had to grit his teeth and press forward, right? There was no time to worry about the morality of his actions. General Andreyu's death had affected him deeply to be sure, but this Knight was completely unknown to him other than his distinctive jet Armor. So what was it? Was it unease because he felt too conflicted to go to Lady Fllay for comfort now? Was it that he could not help but imagine it was Athryn he had dealt such a savage blow? Or was the strain of war becoming so much he could not bear up under it anymore? Sir Kyra shook his head, the answers unknown to him. At last standing to his feet, he removed the blood-splattered helm and strode back into the chamber, met by Koijiro and his men who stood ready to aid him with removing the Armor plate by plate.
"Great work!" the boatswain greeted, placing a firm hand upon his spaulder. "I hear you finally took one of those bastards out!"
Sir Kyra bristled, his amethyst eyes cast down to the floor, a deep shadow looming over his face.
"Twas Blytz, was it not?" Koijiro asked, oblivious as he smiled from ear to ear. Some of his men applauded, patting him on the head or punching him in the arm affectionately as they made over him.
"You were amazing!" one exclaimed.
"Excellent tactics!" another praised.
"Truly, you hath done damn well as of late, boy," Koijiro agreed with a smile, his olive arm locking round the Knight's head as he pulled him close. "Or rather, Sir!" he beamed, a hearty laugh issuing forth from his throat, echoing in the large chamber.
"There is no stopping you now!" another chimed in. "Haha!"
"Aye, we are counting on you to keep it up!" Koijiro added, jeering him excitedly as he shook him.
Sir Kyra's fist quivered, silently fuming.
Footsteps were heard as Sir Mwu approached, his face looking unusually grave today.
"Please be silent!" Sir Kyra snapped suddenly, a confused gasp issuing from those around him as they took a collective step back. "I just killed someone. How can you say I did well?" the boy demanded, his voice shallow.
"…What is with this all of the sudden?" Koijiro asked, at a loss. "You hath been doing this for some time now."
Sir Kyra's eyes flashed dangerously for a moment and he spat a burst of blood to the floor. Quickly tearing off the pieces of Stryke, he threw them aside in disgust as the confused artisans stared aghast.
"Stop this!" Sir Mwu's voice ordered, cutting through the air as he pushed his way past, brushing them all aside. "Sir Kyra is exhausted," he explained. "Come, Sir Kyra," he said to the boy softly, offering his hand.
Looking up to meet his azure gaze, however, Sir Kyra scowled, turning away from the elder Knight and storming off.
Koijiro ran a hand through his tangled locks nervously, an embarrassed smile on his face as he shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.
Pressing the man with a hard stare, Sir Mwu rolled his eyes, taking off after the boy.
"Alright men! Back to work!" Koijiro shouted, turning to face their discouraged faces once more. "We cannot afford to celebrate yet! Make haste!"
As he wandered throughout the corridors below deck, lost in his thoughts, it was not long ere Sir Kyra heard the rapid footfalls of Sir Mwu as he caught up to him.
"They did not mean to upset you," the burly Knight began, catching his breath.
Sir Kyra increased his pace, saying nothing, his dull eyes set forward.
"We all consider you as one of us after all," Sir Mwu explained apologetically.
"I know," Sir Kyra said finally. At length, he felt the elder Knight's hand grasp his shoulder as he called out his name gently.
Sir Kyra stopped.
"We are warriors," Sir Mwu affirmed sternly. "Not murderers! We are in a battle! If one does not strike, one gets cut down. That is true for me as it is for you," he tried to explain. "For all of us!" he stressed, raising his voice at the Adept.
"I know!" Sir Kyra blurted out sharply, whirling his head round to face the man.
"Then do not hesitate to do what is necessary! Or you shall have your life taken from you! Do you understand?" Sir Mwu pressed, his normally kind azure eyes narrowed into a fierce glare the boy had only seen in vary rare conversations such as this. A fire he could only imagine the Knight reserved to kindle in battle.
Sealed within the Zodiac's enchanted underwater vessel, the Vosulgov, Sir Athryn sat dressing himself, his eyes dull and vacant as he stared ahead into space, mechanically tying his sash.
"DAMNATION!" Sir Yzak's sharp voice cut through the air as his fist slammed into the shell in frustration. The silvery haired Knight continued shouting a string of obscenities, his pitch steadily rising as he assailed the wall with terrible curses and oaths, punctuated by the rapid discharge of spittle. Suddenly the Knight stopped, his good eye catching sight of Sir Nycol's former raiment, the red sash of the elite neatly folded and set aside.
"Yzak!" Sir Dyarka interjected, trying to diffuse the outburst for all their sakes.
"Why did he have to die?" Sir Yzak demanded suddenly.
Sir Dyarka raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, apparently not catching the hidden meaning.
"Why here? In this place! Well?" Sir Yzak spat, whirling around toward Sir Athryn accusingly.
Suddenly something in Sir Athryn snapped. The otherwise cool and collected Knight's face contorted into a truly fearsome glare, his emerald eyes burning like enchanted fire, as he rushed forward, quickly taking hold of Sir Yzak's throat and slamming him against the shell roughly. "If you wish to say it, then do so coward! Quit this subtle dog shit! Say that it was my fault!" he shouted into the boy's face, not even bothering to spare him from his own spittle. "That he died only because he sacrificed himself for me! Because he was trying to save me!"
"Sir Athryn!" Sir Dyarka protested. Now they were both going at it. This turn was honestly not much better, the tan Knight thought to himself. Tentatively, he placed a gentle hand on Sir Yzak's, hoping to calm both their nerves. "Sir Yzak, stop this," he urged, using his arms to firmly push the pair apart. "The two of you fighting about it shall not be of any use whatsoever! The one we must defeat is Stryke."
"I know that!" Sir Yzak was quick to retort. "Myguel was slain by that one too! Not to mention my scar! Next time, I shall be sure to best him!" the Knight affirmed, his icy blue eyes seeming to glow with murderous anticipation.
Without another word, Sir Yzak took off running, followed close behind by his friend Sir Dyarka, who shouted off after him to no avail.
And so Sir Athryn was left alone once more, mournful memories and conflicting deliberations vying for domination within his darkened mind. He stared down at Sir Nycol's garments, however, and suddenly began to quiver as tears welled up in his eyes. As they fell upon the sheets of music which the jet Knight had brought along with him to study in his spare time on the voyage, a memory forced its way to the surface. Wistful, unassuming eyes and a soft voice. A gentler spirit than the rest of them to be sure.
Athryn, thank you for attending the other night I played. Did I not see you sleeping there though? A wry smile.
The truth is, I would like to do a proper concert some day. A wistful stare into the future.
I feel that I, too, should be fighting. I felt that when I heard the news of Cancer… A simple, yet unfaltering bravery.
A gasp escaped Sir Athryn's throat as sobs began to wrack his frame. He pounded his fist against the wall of the shell in vain, attempting to stifle his tears. "Damnation…" he wailed. "I should have been the one," he muttered. "It should have been me who was slain! I am the one who deserves to die!"
And still the memories came without reprieve, gaining speed as they drew inexorably nearer to the present. Words cannot describe the agony of watching something happen over and over again, yet not being able to change the outcome in the slightest. "…Nycol…" he whispered. "All because I could not bring myself to cut him down before! Tis my weakness that killed you!" Had not the General expressly warned him?
Stryke. Unless you cut him down, you could be the next one slain.
But it was not him. This time it was his dear friend, Nycol. The one who had neer done anything wrong. Not the one who betrayed his best friend, but the one who made the ultimate sacrifice for him. It was not any kind of fair Sir Athryn could accept, but it was what had happened nonetheless. And the Adept would never allow that single selfless act to be cheapened in this way, he decided.
The dark-haired Knight's jaw tightened as his whole body shook with renewed rage. "This time…I will kill Kyra!" he seethed. "This time for sure!"
"I shall take it from here for a while," Lieutenant Natarle said as she reported to the helm, illuminated by the light of rows upon rows of torches which had been lit throughout the decks to combat the coming of nightfall.
"Thank you," Captain Murrue nodded gratefully, quite eager to take her rest.
"Hath we managed to establish contact with Alaska yet?" the Lieutenant inquired.
"Our gulls do not seem to hath reached them yet, due to the poor conditions," Marshal Dalida related dutifully.
A collective sigh escaped the throats of the Captain and her Lieutenant as they crossed their arms, pondering their course in silence.
"If we maintain this pace," Captain Murrue mused. "We should be crossing the Tropics tomorrow evening. By then, our message should hath reached them," she ventured hopefully.
"That submersible…craft," she decided upon the word finally. "Is surprisingly fast." Lieutenant Natarle said absently, intently studying a map she had fetched. "I merely hope that they hath lost sight of us by now."
Captain Murrue's amber eyes narrowed. "Are we destined to continue crossing paths with that party?" she wondered aloud fearfully.
"But Sir Mwu…" Lieutenant Natarle began uncertainly. "He mentioned something about them not being the Lecreuset Party anymore."
"But that is…" the Captain countered weakly.
"I cannot ascertain the truth of the matter," the Lieutenant assured her. "Tis simply something I heard him muttering about."
Below the deck of the Archangel, Lady Fllay walked the length of its corridors in silence, her face dimly illuminated by the candle she held aloft. Finished cleaning the blood and gore from Stryke's shining plate and preparing it for Sir Kyra's next battle, she had left the armory in a melancholy. Her grey eyes looked sad as she stared at the planks in the floor, quietly brooding.
Her footfalls slowed, however, as she overheard cheerful voices coming from inside the mess hall. Careful not to make a sound, she listened in, wondering what all the commotion was about, wondering if it could provide a suitable distraction.
"I have to admit I was scared at first…" the unmistakable voice of Tolle boasted to his friends and a group of other officers who had gathered round "After all, they sent lightning bolts after me as soon as I took off. But I had flown that bird so many times in practice, I just pulled the reins like it was nothing."
"I must say, you were awesome out there," Sai admitted, wiping his spectacles clean with a faded cloth. "When did you ever acquire a skill like that?"
"Well you had quite a bit of training with that creature first," Miriallia mused wistfully, her eyes riveted to her triumphant lover, the look on her youthful face one of pure adoration.
"Sai, you hath learnt quite a few spells by studying, after all, as well as how to identify all kinds of enemy craft by sight alone." Tolle affirmed. "And Miriallia," he added, turning toward her with a grin. "You hath achieved quite the aim and reloading rate on those cannons. And Kuzzey, you too. And Lady Fllay…well," the boy paused, grasping for something just out of reach. "My quarters hath never gone without, after all, nor Sir Kyra been improperly outfitted," he finished with a large smile.
"You are correct, of course," Sai smirked, wondering in the back of his mind where the Lady had gone off to. "We are no longer novices on this ship after all."
"Yes , we certainly hath become quite proficient in our duties," Miriallia mused. Suddenly she turned back toward Tolle, however, her loving smile dropped in favor of a disapproving scowl. "But Tolle, you are going too far this time!" she scolded.
Tolle's face contorted in shock. "What?" he exclaimed in disbelief.
"I was terribly worried, you know, when I heard you would be joining the battle," Miriallia explained, her eyes wide.
Lady Fllay's own narrowed, and she hastened past the entrance, feeling restless as if she were in a hurry to be somewhere but truthfully unsure of where.
"You are worrying too much, Miri," Tolle said dismissively with a wave of his hand, his voice growing quickly faint.
Kyra… the Lady's thoughts echoed.
Sir Kyra stood motionless in the armory, his amethyst gaze riveted to the assembled pieces and plates of Stryke's that Koijiro and his men had finished tempering after his last battle. His thoughts were a chaotic jumble, rather like his conflicted spirit, he thought to himself.
He could not shake that image of driving his broadsword so deeply into Blytz's chest. That bloodcurdling scream which issued forth from his throat as he died. It was haunting him. Or Athryn's hate filled cry, a hatred which Sir Kyra knew now burned for him.
Athryn…
Nervously hopping to his other shoulder, Torii nuzzled his cheek affectionately. Sir Kyra smiled, despite himself, returning the affectionate gesture as he held his finger aloft for the bird to take. That image of little Athryn, the day he left Moon for the Plants, came back to him then. The way his fine clothes fit his frail form, so proper, just like the son of a Lord, as contrasted with his own, a commoner whose talent had been recognized by chance . Or the way the wind blew that day, rustling the trees so poignantly. Even more, the tone of the boy's voice, the ever so slight quiver as it hid the fear that their conversation that day would be the last.
"Torii?" the bird chirped.
As long as you and I remain enemies, there is no choice but to fight till one of us is destroyed!
Suddenly Torii took off in a rush of wings, soaring out towards the balcony on some unknown journey. Perhaps she had gone to aid the ship's in making contact with the Alliance. Sir Kyra followed it with his gaze, watching it go.
I am your enemy then?
The Adept's fist tightened, his thoughts taking a darker turn.
Is that not it, Sir Athryn…
Within the bowels of the Vosulgov, several diviners sat in silence, eyes closed. The attending officers were careful not to disturb their divination, every now and then a volunteer softly reminding them of the target lest their focus waver.
"I hath found it!" one of the diviners exclaimed suddenly, drawing the confused attention of his comrades as he pointed to his eyes triumphantly.
"What is it man?" the marshal demanded.
"Tis the 'legged ship'!" the diviner replied confidently.
"Are you certain of this?" Sir Athryn interjected, followed quickly by the three Knights in his party, their faces largely obscured by the flickering shadows cast by the vessel's torches.
"See for yourself," the diviner replied, describing the place he had found them in broad, artistic strokes to allow Sir Athryn to quickly focus his magickal gaze there as well.
At length, after opening his eyes once more, Sir Athryn nodded.
"This area hath many small islands and the stars shall be dissolving soon," the marshal ventured, pointing to a corresponding survey he had pulled from their shelves. "It would be an ideal time to attack."
"Today you take your last breath, Stryke!" Sir Yzak hissed.
"I shall be sure to avenge Sir Nycol's death and that scar of yours, Sir Yzak," Sir Dyarka concurred, his arms folded behind his back, his posture military perfect.
"Make way!" the marshal barked to his men as he set the craft on course.
Completing her circuit, Lady Fllay found herself back to the armory once more, feeling no better than when she had left. However, she was surprised to discern the form of Sir Kyra just beyond the door, sitting on the floor hugging his knees beside the pieces of Stryke. He looked so dejected, she thought, sitting there with Torii perched comfortingly on his shoulder, his mind a thousand leagues away, no doubt. She had seen that same look in bed with him dozens of times. He was not there, despite appearances. There was something weighing deeply on his spirit.
She stopped, her thoughts surprising her. Such concern for her weapon? It was getting harder on him, she realized. The path she had pushed him on, the one she had enticed him to, was proving too much for him to bear up under. But unlike all the other times, he had not come to her. He had chosen to pull away and face it all alone.
Her first thought was how his recent behavior threatened her plans. But, surprising herself, she quickly dismissed it apathetically. Over the past few days, she had noticed a change in herself. For months now, only her hatred, her fervent determination to get revenge against the Zodiac for all they had taken from her had been enough to preserve her, to bring her through the strange transition into a soldier and a lover. But…the past few days, she had been thinking less about the war, and more about how much she missed Sir Kyra. It sounded almost silly to think consciously. But truly, she could not help but feel a crushing loneliness setting in as the days seemed to lengthen. A remembrance of all the little things she had taken for granted. He was so sweet to her, and thoughtful, and protective. The way he had made love to her; so gentle yet fervent. Or when he had cared for her through her illness. His lengthy embraces, that soulful gaze, the tender kiss on the forehead he gave her at the start of every shift. The list of his merits could probably fill a bound volume. He was far "nobler" than those whom society called "nobility", those whom her family had mingled amongst and courted for ages, their powers of machination being passed down through the blood in turn to her.
It seemed like the anger she had so deeply held was slowly ebbing away under the power of his smile, replaced by a longing to see the Knight whole again. To give back and to take again. Had he bewitched her? Was that the source of this strange ambivalence she felt? Hating and…loving? Could it truly be? It was all so confusing, and to make things worse, it did not seem he would lend his aid figuring it out. But could she really blame him? Perhaps not.
Just what was the extent of the harm she had wrought upon him, she wondered for the first time. No, it had not been the first time, she admitted. She had certainly had her doubts along the way, pushing herself to ignore such frail misgivings and use whatever means at her disposal to justify the end.
But now she felt a wave of revulsion wash over her as a single thought rose to the surface. Sometime I could be responsible for that look!
Arrayed in their respective suits of enchanted Armor, the Knights of the Zala Party, or those that remained, appeared atop the Vosulgov as it rose from the depths, a torrent of white foam running off its length.
A steely determination filled each of their eyes as they flexed their wiry limbs, readying themselves for another fierce battle against the 'legged ship'. The last one, in fact, they determined confidently.
"We will provide cover and engage the ship to divert its munitions!" the marshal shouted to the Knights, following the plan they had conceived earlier.
Vaulting into the air, they each drew jade statuettes, summoning three scaly beasts, their wide leathery wings affording the Knights great haste and mobility.
Together they formed rank and soared off towards the Archangel. They had this one chance to stop the ship and its enchanted armament from reaching the greater Earth forces. To avenge the death of their fallen comrades and satisfy their personal grudges. To prevent the abomination inside Stryke from slaying any more of their people.
Everything hinged on this one, last desperate assault.
"That underwater vessel hath surfaced up ahead and is presently lying in wait!" Jackie shouted down from the watch, causing a panic as Marshal Dalida rushed to set the bells ringing throughout the lower decks.
Most of the regular crew had not yet reported for their shifts after all, given the early time.
"All hands on deck!" the man shouted, rushing down the stairs. "All officers prepare for battle!"
Another night of no sleep, Captain Murrue mused dryly.
All across the lower decks, officers bolted upright on their cots to the sound of the bells ringing throughout, their shrill notes echoing across the halls and corridors, They rubbed their eyes tiredly, hurriedly throwing on their uniforms, the morning light just barely breaking through the lattice.
Hearing the sound, Sir Kyra took off running back towards the Armory, having just barely left it a few moments before. He rushed past Lady Fllay who stood at the adjoining corridor, her hand reaching after him.
"Kyra!" she called out, the urgency of her tone surprising her.
The boy stopped. That voice... Turning round to face her, his amethyst eyes felt cold and withdrawn, falling to the floor to avoid hers.
Lady Fllay bit her lip, her tongue suddenly feeling stiff. What was it she had wanted to tell him again? Could it not wait? They were entering battle, after all. Forcing her thoughts to a halt, she shook her head imperceptibly and pressed on.
Sir Kyra looked at her expectantly for a moment.
"Kyra…I…" the Lady breathed, her strength again failing her.
"Not now," the Knight intoned abruptly, his voice hoarse, turning away to continue onward.
The Lady's grey eyes widened fearfully and her mouth opened in protest, feeling an inexplicable panic suddenly take hold.
Suddenly, however, as if realizing something and thinking better of it, the boy cast a glance backwards, adding with a determined smile, "But when I return, we will talk."
And with that, Sir Kyra took off in a run once more, bound for the armory, leaving Lady Fllay standing in the now empty corridor, her hands clasped together anxiously over her breast.
When I return… her thoughts echoed, and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she silently stored up hope, feeling quite out of place.
Soaring headlong across the waves towards their assuredly doomed rival, Sir Dyarka took the pleasure of shouting, "Attack!" to his compatriots, punctuated by a deafening round from his culverin.
The subtle enchantments cast upon the Armor of Aejis were having their intended effect on his comrades, Sir Athryn noted. His Knights had become far more pliable to his strategies as well as more brutal in their strikes against the enemy.
Perhaps even reckless… Sir Athryn wondered, pondering the drawback.
"Three shadows approaching!" Sai shouted down, straining to see through the smoke and fire thrown up from the massive blast.
"Evade! To port!" Captain Murrue shouted, Arnold throwing the helm hard as the ship's backside swung wide to avoid the ensuing plume as the round missed its mark.
"Load Wombat cannons! Fire Valiants! Set Ingelstellungs!" Lieutenant Natarle fired off a slew of orders, her corps members scurrying around dutifully to accomplish them as they wheeled cannons into place, hefted trunks full of shot, lit the rockets in their shafts or ascended up the rigging to prime the ballistae.
"Are Sir Mwu and Sir Kyra ready for battle yet?" the Lieutenant demanded, her gaze on Miriallia who now bore the enchanted necklace that had come with the pair of earrings.
"Ready!" Sir Mwu shouted as he appeared on deck arrayed in his characteristic armor. Throwing down the silver statuette, he promptly summoned Skygraspar. In a burst of wind, the beast emitted a shrill cry from its beak as it lowered its neck down for the Knight to climb atop its back.
"Damnation, I should hath known we were not free and clear yet, but still…" the burly Knight muttered, his sabatons willing the beast into the air.
"Stryke proceed to the rear deck," Miriallia told Sir Kyra through the earring.
"Understood," came the Knight's simple reply.
Catching sight of Sir Kyra emerging from one of the lower decks, Sir Mwu flew in close. "Sir Kyra!" he called out. "Will you be alright?" the elder Knight asked, concern for him evident in his voice.
"Fine," Sir Kyra replied simply, earning him a scowl.
But they had harder things pressing them at the moment, so Sir Mwu dropped it.
"Valiants fire!" the Lieutenant barked, the air pierced by the wailing sound of several rockets launching from various points across the ship at incredible speeds, the mass of enchanted missiles winding headlong into the midst of the mounted Zodiac Knights bearing down on them.
It looks as if their censures are depleted or they would hath led with them again, Sir Athryn thought, his eyes locked into a fierce stare, using every bit of magick in him to devise the best way to destroy this vessel and kill its defenders.
At length, the air above the ship became riddled with flying bolts and spent munitions as Sir Kyra dueled with Sir Yzak and Sir Athryn atop their mounts.
Once more the Archangel was rocked by another blast from Busdir's culverin extraordinary, some of its crew gripping the railing just to stay aboard.
"Today, I am going to finish you." Sir Mwu shouted to Sir Dyarka with a piercing shot from Agni, willing Skygraspar into a dive after the lumbering, artillery-laden Knight.
A rapid counterstrike from Busdir's arquebus complement, however, forced Sir Mwu into an evasive circuit.
Releasing another bolt from his arbalest, Sir Athryn glared as Sir Kyra continued to parry it with Stryke's tower shield, following it up with further strikes from his own crossbow back at him.
Vaulting from the bow of the ship after him, Sir Kyra was assailed from behind by Sir Yzak instead, who quickly fired a flurry of bolts from Shiva, almost emptying the first barrel at the Adept Knight in order to fell him quickly.
Focusing his energy, Sir Kyra slowed his time relative to the barrage, narrowly avoiding the enchanted bolts as they fell away uselessly. Lunging outwards from the awkward position, Sir Kyra launched a couple of bolts from his crossbow against Sir Athryn, who returned fire with his own as his beast evaded the darts.
He and Sir Yzak flew around Sir Kyra in winding circles, seeking to confuse and divert him as they took turns firing their weapons at his back. The whole ordeal was dizzying, Sir Kyra's shied arm moving back and forth to ward off the deadly missiles.
"Helldarts, fire!" the Lieutenant barked.
"That is useless against me!" Sir Dyarka boasted, discharging his culverin in a burst of smoke and fire. The searing round completely obliterated the string of munitions the Archangel had volleyed, shredding them apart as it cut through the air.
"Now I hath you!" Sir Mwu shouted, pushing Skygraspar into a dive as he released another round from Agni.
"Not a chance!" Sir Dyarka spat through grit teeth, pulling the reins of the beast hard as he whirled round to avoid the blast, returning fire from his crossbow and arquebus hybrid.
"Damnation!" Sir Mwu cursed, kicking his legs in as he banked hard and dove to avoid the shards of hot iron threatening to rip through him.
Standing atop his beast, Sir Athryn cleared his mind and conjured a slew of lightning bolts into the enemy ship's ballistae, the artillery burning and melting, some trailing down the side of the ship catching parts on fire and some actually washing back on deck, threatening to melt through the plank.
Plumes of dark smoke began to fill the skies as the ship was shaken violently.
Lady Fllay burst into her quarters at a run, tumbling into her bed to avoid the tumult. Curling her knees up to her stomach, she threw her arms over her face, feeling like she wanted to scream. It was so loud and violent outside, the soft glow of fire clearly visible just outside the lattice.
And there was nothing she could do about it. That was what made it so unbearable.
Burying her face in the sheets, she stopped suddenly, her eyes looking just out through the shutter for a moment.
"Kyra…" she whispered sadly.
"The fourth and fifth Ingelstellung hath been destroyed!" Sai shouted down from the watch.
"And the Helldart cannon array hath been rendered useless as well!" Jackie added frantically.
"Hath Alaska sent word?" Captain Murrue called out over the deck.
"Not as of yet. Still no response," Kuzzey related, nodding to Dalida.
"Aim Gottfrieds!" Lieutenant Natarle barked to her gunners. "And be certain to hit them this time! Fire!"
As if in obedience to her command, there was a roll of thunder as the enchanted munitions shot outward through the plumes of smoke.
Evading them, however, was easily accomplished by Sir Athryn's mount, who weaved in and around the attack, the shot uselessly throwing up bursts of seawater in its wake.
Sir Kyra followed the attack with a bolt of his own to no avail.
"I cannot forgive you!" Sir Yzak shouted as he lunged toward the Earth Knight, drawing his scimitar.
Sir Kyra's eyes narrowed and he soared up from the rear deck, coming to meet Duwel in the air with his own saber. The blades crashed against each other in the middle, ringing out over the waters as magickal sparks flew away from the clash.
"Bastard!" Sir Yzak spat in his face.
Vaulting backwards off his mount, Sir Athryn dove down toward the ship, falling freely through the air, his hand outstretched as he formed the spell in his mind.
"Aejis is coming from directly above!" Jackie shouted down in a panic, ready to take Sai and get below the roof in an instant.
"What?" Lieutenant Natarle spat in disbelief.
But it was too late. Opening his eyes, Sir Athryn released the spell-a massive stream of fire falling through the air like rain.
"Swing right!" Captain Murrue ordered Arnold, whose trained hands strained the wheel as hard as he could. Unfortunately, no matter how good the pilot, the rear deck was completely incinerated amidst a shower of magickal sparks as its wards were overpowered by the mighty spell.
Captain Murrue grunted as she fell to the railing, locking her arms round it just to stay on her feet.
Flipping over through the air, Sir Athryn landed squarely on his waiting mount once again, pulling the reins away towards Sir Kyra and Sir Yzak's duel, the smoldering remains of the Archangel's rear deck left burning behind.
"The collapse of the rear deck hath compromised the rudder!" Romero shouted to the Captain, surrounded by his men as he strained to fight the fires which seemed to be springing up everywhere now.
"Prioritize stabilizing our course!" Captain Murrue ordered, her amber eyes locked in a fierce stare toward the horizon.
Where are you…?
"I will join the fray with Speargraspar!" Tolle asserted, drawing a surprised stare from his crewmates.
"Tolle?" Mirialia breathed.
"We are in danger unless we do something!" Tolle said firmly, taking off below deck for the Armory.
"Wait crewman!" Captain Murrue called, her protest muffled by another blast from the enemy which shook the ship from below.
"Must be the enemy craft," Lieutenant Natarle spat. "We cannot fight it too. Evade!" she shouted, taking charge.
Straining to peer through the smog-filled air, Sir Kyra stalked around the roof of the Archangel, searching for his enemy, his pearlescent Armor gleaming in the glow of the flames. "Damnation!" he cursed as he released a bolt, seeing Sir Yzak circling round again atop his mount.
While his bolt cut through the beasts stubby leg, tearing it off, Sir Yzak pushed off into the air, somersaulting straight towards him.
Sir Kyra's eyes widened beneath the helm, readying himself for the clash Or so he thought.
"Take this!" Sir Yzak shouted in a rage, kicking his sabaton into Stryke's tower shield with preternatural strength.
"Rrraah," Sir Kyra grunted as he was thrown through the air, the force of the blow reverberating through his entire body. It would have surely shattered his arm had it not been protected from the worst by Stryke.
Struggling to regain focus, Sir Kyra threw a hand below him, conjuring a blast of air which kept him aloft long enough to regain his flight. He quickly followed it with a bolt from his crossbow, which he sent streaking towards his opponent enclosed in a stream of wind, a ball of lightning conjured before it.
Dodge this…
Blinded by the lightning, the enchanted bolt pierced clean through Sir Yzak's greave at the speed of a typhoon, a force so powerful it can cause a blade of grass to cut through wood, the blood pooling in his sabaton as he was thrown violently from the back of the beast.
"What?" Sir Yzak screamed. "Damn this!" he cursed as he fell through the air, desperately firing several broadheads from Shiva, unable to concentrate with the pain so great.
Although, to his credit, Sir Kyra managed to avoid most of them, one met its mark, splitting the crossbow apart into pieces. Rather than risk his hand, Sir Kyra released the weapon, retracting his gauntlet as it broke apart and fell to the waves.
The Adept checked round him for a moment. The battle had pushed him a ways from the Archangel and he now found himself hovering above a few tiny unfamiliar isles.
"KYRA!" Sir Athryn shouted, rushing down towards him at impossible speeds as he warded him off from his compatriot with a series of lightning strikes, formed from the ambient energies collecting in the air, heralding the coming of a storm, which Sir Kyra weaved around and absorbed with his shield.
Vaulting from the back of the creature, Sir Athryn sent the scaly beast hurtling towards Sir Kyra, quickly casting enough pressure to cause the poor thing to explode around the Earth Knight, showering him in its smoldering gore and sending him falling through the air in a nauseous daze.
"Hold on out there just a bit longer Sir Kyra!" Tolle shouted from atop the back of Speargraspar as the beast's powerful legs drove into a run off the roof, taking flight amidst a burst of white feathers.
Just then, however, the unseen Adept officers onboard the submerged Vosulgov gathered in a circle, closing their eyes in concentration as they formed a powerful spell together. Suddenly, massive bursts of ice began forming beneath the hull of the Archangel, shooting upward and piercing its underside before exploding outwards in all directions, the shards wreaking further damage. Each successful penetration was followed by a massive stream of water breaking through into the ship, much to Romero's dismay, in some cases flooding the lower decks.
Rain had begun to fall as dark clouds gathered in the skies above, peals of thunder echoing across the deep.
"Ugh," Sir Kyra grunted as his back slammed into a thicket of thick brush and brambles, throwing up a burst of leaves and webbing.
He laid there dazed as the rain fell upon his bascinet, catching his breath. He did not have much time to recover, however, as Sir Athryn bore down on him from above, one of his sabers turned downward after the manner of the executioner. Quickly recoiling, Sir Kyra managed to make it to one knee just as Sir Athryn slammed onto the ground, his blade piercing deep into the soil.
Narrowing their eyes, they each leapt backwards to clear some space, wondering at the tiny isle they now found themselves upon.
Sir Kyra drew the saber strapped to his back, readying himself to meet the Knight rushing towards him. At the last moment, just as Sir Athryn swung his blade, Sir Kyra vaulted into the air, slashing at his back with his own. The blade found its mark as it cut across the sanguine spaulder, tearing the Armor clean off, leaving Sir Athryn's shoulder bare.
On an island lying on the outer rim of those belonging to Oceania, two small children clutched the hem of an elderly man's robe fearfully, standing out under their porch as they watched the violent storm rage over the seas.
"Master!" the boy intoned, his tone nervous.
"I am scared!" the girl admitted, their faces periodically illuminated by flashes of lightning.
The Master's focus was elsewhere, however, and though his eyes were, in fact, blind, his senses pierced far and wide.
Suddenly he took the children's hands prayerfully, apparently consterned by something he saw.
"What is taking so long? Hurry!" Romero shouted to his men below deck as flames literally roared all around them, threatening the craft's delicate internal structures.
The Archangel had lost quite a bit of its speed, its rudder compromised and several sails in tatters, not to mention the burning lower decks, splint mast and flooded base. It was hard to imagine that all the hard work Oceania's artisans had put into it could be so completely undone in the span of a single siege.
"I cannot stabilize it!" Arnold admitted to the Captain, his knuckles white from gripping the wheel so hard. "We are going to run aground!"
As of now the ship was careening toward the shore of some desert isle, her deck drenched with rain as the churning seas continued to throw more water aboard.
"All hands prepare for impact!" Captain Murrue shouted over the storm, securing herself as best she could.
"Busdir approaching from the right!" Sai shouted down from the watch, he and Jackie holding on with all their might. Since they were unable to divine anything of value in these conditions, they had resorted to sight alone. Such a procedure gave the ship little time to react to the threat, but twas better than no information at all, they supposed.
"Aim the Gottfrieds and the last of the Valiants!" Lieutenant Natarle shouted to her gunners, just as the ship met the sand, kicking up clouds of swirling dust as the ship's deck buckled and creaked under the strain.
They had come in too fast, unavoidably so but nonetheless. The blow threw everyone to the deck hard, hanging to their respective holds as they clutched their eyes and prayed the shock would soon dissipate.
The view from above was quite something, Sir Dyarka mused. The ship had run aground on some tiny isle, a deep trench dug from the coast up the shore. He could not believe his fortune, a stationary target at last. "This will finish you!" he shouted, hefting up his culverin as he took aim.
"Not so fast!" Sir Mwu shouted down from atop his mount, following just behind as he fired a round from Agni. The shot pierced straight through the beast's hide, exiting out the other side amidst a shower of blood as it let out a shrill cry of pain, its form quickly dispelling like smoke.
"Damnation!" Sir Dyarka cursed, bracing himself as the beast dissolved. Not to be dissuaded, the tan Knight leapt backwards into the air, firing off the round from his culverin, which Skygraspar banked to avoid and returned fire from Agni.
Each round met its marked, as the one tore through Skygraspar's wing, splaying Sir Mwu's helm with feather-stuck gore and sending the bird careening to the shallow waters near the coast, whilst Sir Dyarka's Armor absorbed the full blast, its wards dispelling as he fell to the ground atop his back, the core depleted from sparing his body the otherwise grievous injury. He laid there for a moment, the plate scorched and smoking around him.
"It cannot be!" the Knight spat, struggling with the heavy cannon which now pinned him to the ground. Looking toward the Archangel he grit his teeth as he saw a cannon being wheeled into place, its shaft aimed right at him.
Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself and carefully removed his helm, exposing his olive skin and blonde hair. Proceeding to remove the other components and pieces of Budsir, he rolled out from under the weight of the culverin and raised his hands into the air, waving them frantically to get the attention of the Archangel's gunners, his face locked in a hard scowl. He had lost, pure and simple. And rather than pointlessly dying, he would swallow his pride and surrender.
"He is surrendering?" Lieutenant Natarle remarked in surprise as she observed the young man through the spyglass, raising a hand to halt her gunners. That drew surprised looks from the rest of the crew.
"Kyra!" Sir Athryn snarled as the two locked blades once more, each mustering every last bit of their strength, but neither able to press the other back. "How dare you!" Sir Athryn spat, his emerald eyes squinting beneath the bascinet to protect them from the blinding magickal flashes and sparks flying away from their blades.
At last they separated, each thrown slightly backwards from the force of their own blow. "You killed Nycol!" Sir Athryn wailed, his face as one gone mad. Stretching out his hands, he did not even bother to protect himself as he conjured a thick chain of lightning into the Earth Knight.
"Rrrah!" Sir Kyra's teeth shook as his Armor absorbed the blast, his whole frame shaking as he was painfully electrocuted.
"Sir Kyra!" he heard a boy's voice shout down from overhead, followed by a stream of broadhead bolts from Stryke's enchanted arbalest the squire had shot to ward of Sir Athryn.
Sir Kyra's eyes widened. "Tolle? Nay! Stay back!" he shouted desperately.
Sir Athryn's jaw tightened as he vaulted forward to avoid the missiles, their shafts slamming deep into the ground where he once stood. Spinning round, he outstretched his arm, loosening the shield to which it was strapped, and thrust it from his hand with a flick of his wrist, the guard enclosed in a rapid steam of air he had hastily conjured.
Time seemed to slow as Tolle's eyes widened, only catching a blurred view of the object as it sped towards him. But there was no time. Not even to think of Miri, or Kyra or his other friends aboard the ship. It was over.
The shield rammed into the squire's neck, swiftly beheading him as the force of the blow cut through flesh and shattered bone, a plume of his blood bursting forth from the stump where his young face used to sit. Speargraspar flapped its wings frantically as the discharge of air sent it tumbling to the ground, no longer under the guidance of its rider whose body slipped from its back and was lost to the waves.
"TOLLE!" Sir Kyra screamed to no avail, his eyes wide and wet as the gruesome image of his best friend burned itself into his mind.
Sir Athryn's chest heaved from the exertion and he stood at the ready, saber drawn at his side, regarding Sir Kyra carefully.
Suddenly Sir Kyra's mind seemed to clear, its bounds transcending all limits as it felt like the entire Ether was coursing through his spirit, all of nature suddenly at his command. His muscles tightened, his senses sharpened and his will was single. A fiery brilliance fell behind Sir Kyra's eyes, expanding outwards in rays of eight colors, all swirling together around the center.
Sir Athryn took an uneasy step back, readying his saber.
"ATHRYN!" Sir Kyra raged, lunging forward and thrusting his saber for the sanguine Knight's bevor. Sir Athryn managed to deflect the blow, but Sir Kyra merely pivoted the blade around and came for him again.
Ere Sir Athryn could react, the enchanted blade cut down into his arm, overpowering the Armor, which was torn off as Sir Kyra pulled the saber away. His vision blurred with pain as he regarded the bleeding stump where his arm once was, but he did not have time to cry out as his helm was savagely struck by Sir Kyra's sabaton slamming into his face.
When did he become so strong?
Quickly steadying himself with a blast of air, Sir Athryn landed on one foot, shaking away the pain as he willed his mind to a single objective.
I will…destroy you!
Suddenly, Sir Athryn felt strange, a power he had neer before felt filling his spirit. All pain vanished, whilst his strength and senses seemed to only reach greater heights. His mind reeled, all needless emotions evaporating as it took to assaying the situation and devising the best and swiftest means to accomplish the task he had ordered it. A deep brilliance fell behind his eyes, exploding outward in a burst of emerald which swirled together and settled like a still pool, devoid of any variation.
Looking up to face his opponent once more, Sir Athryn extended the blade on his vambrace and opened those on his greaves, four shining enchanted blades now protruding from the blood stained surface. With a thought, he became one with the shadows, dissolving into the long pools of inky blackness which fell over them from the dark clouds above.
Sir Kyra's head whirled round, searching for the vanishing Knight.
Running away? A fleeting thought ran through his mind. It was quickly dispelled, however, as he felt Sir Athryn appear behind him, emerging from the shadows at his back and lunging straight for him.
There was no time to deflect the blow, and so Sir Kyra's Armor absorbed the vicious attack, the four blades slashing right through him as Sir Athryn rammed through. Once more, however, he disappeared into the darkness, now appearing at his side, whence he drove his blades through him before vanishing yet again.
Over and over Sir Athryn disappeared into the darkness and rapidly emerged at an angle where Sir Kyra was not looking, rushing out of the shadows at Sir Kyra with his blades, lunging through him repeatedly in a kind of circle. He spun and pivoted, his legs turning over in tight circles.
Sir Kyra body became torn by deep cuts and gashes as Sir Athryn's blades sliced at him, throwing up trails of blood which stung his eyes and matted his hair, knocking the Adept around the field as he struggled to raise a defense, driving him down the beach toward the sea.
At last the powerful attack subsided, Sir Athryn becoming stationary once more as he regarded his opponent.
Sir Kyra stuck out a gauntleted hand to steady himself, his chest heaving as his breaths came in shallow gasps, his body feeling like it was on fire.
Not affording him the time to recover, Sir Athryn vaulted into the air once more, raising his four blades as he prepared to deal the final blow. Sir Kyra raised his tower shield, but the thing was cut away to shreds and flung from his arm as it met Aejis' blades, its wards too weak to withstand the assault any longer.
Sir Kyra's head backed away as far as he could inside the bascinet, as Sir Athryn's vambrace shot forward, its blade mechanism slashing away a deep swathe of the helm, overpowering its wards and exposing his face, his cheek left bleeding inside and his lip burst.
"ATHRYN!" Sir Kyra seethed as fury took hold of him and he struck out his hand, dispelling the air from Sir Athryn's lungs in order to suffocate him.
"KYRA!" Sir Athryn raged back, pushing back with all his might.
Their grief and rage mingled together, a force powerful enough to drive them to do it this time. To take the other's life in earnest.
Lowering his head, Sir Athryn slammed into the chest of Sir Kyra's cuirass, the pain reverberating throughout his entire frame as he felt the gemstone core within crack.
Locking his arm and legs round the Earth Knight, Sir Athryn struggled with how to put an end to their duel, his core rapidly depleting.
If I tarry, tis all over…
Sir Kyra's fist locked around Aejis' helm, tearing it off and casting it aside, Sir Athryn's sweat streaked face in clear view. His back arched upward in pain, however, has he felt the folding blade affixed to Sir Athryn's greave embedded into his shoulder as the Knight raised his leg to strike.
Sir Athryn's emerald eyes narrowed and, seeing no alternative, he willed his legs into a run, driving Sir Kyra down the beach, murder in his eyes. Their speed increased, as Sir Athryn fueled every last bit of magick he possessed into that run, his feet carrying them far across the waves as he kicked up white foam in his wake.
Sir Kyra's eyes widened and his fist shot forward, grasping at Sir Athryn's cuirass and tearing it off. As soon as the plate was flung from his grasp, his fist tightened as he prepared for the final blow.
Tis now…
Or never!
Raising his bladed vambrace ere Sir Kyra could finish him, Sir Athryn drove it forward into Stryke's chest with all his enchanted might, the dull blade forcefully piercing the gemstone core held within its cuirass, breaking its cracked face apart completely.
But rather than wasting the massive release of energy which followed, however, Sir Athryn directed it into a deadly spell. Peeling himself out of Aejis' plates, which had now fallen dull and heavy, its enchantments exhausted, Sir Athryn dove into the water, clutching his bare shoulder, kicking his feet as fast as he could to get out of its reach.
Pinned by Sjr Athryn's destroyed Armor, Sir Kyra had no time to react as a massive explosion engulfed him, a wave of force conjured from Stryke's stolen energies. It bit deeply into his skin, stealing his air and rending the plates from his body, sending them soaring into air as blood splattered shards.
Though he had not the time to figure the precise moment, at length his vision fell away followed by all other senses as he fell into darkness, the pain gone.
But Sir Athryn had not shored up the spell, and the resulting blast proved far more massive than he had anticipated, throwing him headlong through the air, his garments shredded to tatters as the ripple tore into the shore, breaking apart rocks and trees and whatever else stood in its path, the dark air dispelled as the plume was seen for leagues all around.
Nothing could have survived that.
