*************************Chpt 10******************************
AN: Warning: Graphic Scenes. Not for young children. As a lot of Italics are used in this chapter, and they may not show up on ffn, I am going to use the ever annoying blah things to represent Mithros POV, thoughts, or flashbacks. Sorry!
Kel tightened her grip around her staff. Flames boiled up inside her, dying to be let out from the tip of the glaive-like blade at the end of the wand. Mithros was laughing. After all the hard work Kel had put into her training, first as a page, the as a sorceress, he had the nerve to laugh at her. Not the mocking laugh, which she knew so well from her years at the palace, nor was it the frightened laugh of a child caught doing something he should not.
Mithros was genuinely amused.
"I will kill you," she threatened. "For Kawitha's sake, I will kill you."
And he laughed.
(Mithros POV)
Kawitha.
Mithros breathed the sound of her name. It was as if just the sound would somehow bring her back to him, back to his world of splendor that he had created for her. He loved her, he always would. Her beautiful hair, her gentle smile, the way she would scold him if he allowed a few of his creations to get out of hand. The way she would be content to sit in his arms and watch the sky, the sky he had made for her. At the same time. He hated her. Kawitha was the bane of his existance, the everlasting punishment. The living proof that he could not control those he loved. He hated her for leaving him, robbing him of his powers and his children. Kawitha could say as she liked, but deep down, he knew the children of Kawitha were his, not created but made through his love, through their love. But she had stolen them, poisoned their minds against him. One, only one, had managed to break free from her spell long enough to warn him of Shyinue, his prized daughter, and her corruption. Kawitha had poisoned their minds, and Mithros would save them. Through death, death of their mortal bodies, Mithros would cast the poison from them, and they would return to him, be his heirs. And Shyinue would be his. Lithia, his current wife, would be unhappy. But he grew tired of her quickly. As soon as Shyinue was returned to him, his daughter would take Lithia's place as goddess, and Lithia would be cast out. Mitros had loved her once, long enough to bring forth a daughter to his prized realm, the human realm. However, love grew tired, and what was a mortal compared to Shyinue? Yes, he would kill his children out of love, and they would return to him. He would kill them now.
Come with me to the window
It was a command, and his dear, sweet Shyinue obeyed. Gingerly, untrusting him, she walked toward the window to look out on her siblings. One, the one he had called Vinsen, drew out the gun, a strange contraption Mithros had seen in one of his realms. Powerful things, guns were, but no match for his wonderous army of immortals.
Watch
It was Vinsen who started the battle, with the single gunshot aimed toward the nearest immortal. It was proper, Kel mused sadly, as it had been Vinsen who started it ages ago when he had told Mithros of Kawitha's plans.
The immortal died immediately.
Where the fallen immortal lay, two more took his place, and two more gunshots rang. Perfect hits. But three dead? Thee out of thousands, barely a scratch. The immortals closed in the gap again, but still made no move to strike.
Owen pulled out an arrow and strung it. Even from the distance of the window, Kel could see his hands shake. His fingers released the arrow, and it burst into flames. As it struck an immortal, the immortal and its three bordering soldiers lit on fire. As if it were a wildfire, flames leaped from immortal to immortal, clearing out over twenty.
Still, barely a scratch.
Joren unsheathed his sword and lifted it above his head. Spinning it in the classic "Reaper Swipes Corn" move that they had practiced numerous time under Lord Wyldons watchful eye, he was able to hit at least five of the closest Hantrinks, a particularly nasty breed of cockroaches. As LeAnne had predicted, a grayish hue overtook them, and they slowly crumbled at his feet.
Baux drew his own sword and attacked the nearest batch of Bilooks (overgrown apes that had knives attached to the arms) wildly, chopping off first their arms, then their heads. He didn't notice the blood that sprayed over his robes, or the heads he kicked away to reach the next group.
And still the immortals made no move to strike back.
LeAnne, the only guardian yet to use her weapon, knelt on the ground. Cupping her hands together, she blew into them softly. A pale blue mist streamed away from her hands and into the mouths and noses of the closest immortals. As if touched by acid, their faces melted, and dripped down, revealing deteriorating skulls, and rotting brains. The immortals collapsed.
Beside Kel, Mithros reared onto his back feet and kicked the glass. Not even a crack appeared. It was the signal for battle.
The motionless immortals sprang to life.
All around him war raged. This was the moment he had been preparing for, this was the moment he would make his parents proud. Spoilt as a child, he had gotten everything he wanted. He never had the urge to work for anything, never had the need to. He had had no oppurtunity to be a cause for any pride, and Joren had begun to suspect that even had he, his parents would not have cared.
But there was one who one. One, single soul who would be proud of him no matter his status, no matter his laziness. He would fight, he would die, and he would make Kel proud.
Love was worth that.
Joren focused his attention of the group of Hantrinks, who crawled forward. Their antenna's swung dangerously, shooting bits of acid from each end. Joren cursed as a glob hit his knee, and watched as it detatched itself from his thigh and fell to the ground. Standing on his good leg, he charged the offender, driving his blade through its chest. Behind him, a three- headed centuar kicked out its legs at the sword swinging Joren. The movement was sudden, not a muscle in the chest had betrayed it. One hoof spliced the hand holding the sword, tearing a long gash through Joren's tendon. The sword was flung aside, and lost beneath a sea of hoofs and claws. Joren fell to the ground, moaning, and clutched his useless hand. His eyes poured tears at the centuars feet as it reared up once again, and slammed its hoof against his skull. Joren quieted, his shattered head laid against the ground, a grim smile fixed upon his lips. Not even Vinsons shots, moments to late, saved Joren from his bloody grave.
Inside, Mithros laughed.
Shyinue looks upset. She does not understand. Her brother is saved, he will come back to me now. We can be a family.
She is glaring hatefully through the window, tears pouring down her cheeks for the man she did not even like. That's why he was the first to be saved. His death was humorous, how his friends tried to save him, and failed. But it is best to let my darling daughter adjust to the pain, adjust to the deaths. Perhaps I should kill Owen last. He seems to be the most dear to her.
It's a shame though, that Vinsens bullets had not missed. Centuars are rare visitors, and I would have like to keep that one a bit longer. Fascinating creature, really. They shall always be remembered as saviors of my son, Joren.
Kel was helpless. She could not save her friends, she could not save herself. The only way out was magic, and she would surely take Mithros with her if she tried to leave. Where was Kawitha? Where was Mother? Why wouldn't she come?
Vinsen continued to shoot at the immortals. Tens by tens the fell, as his aim improved and the immortals got closer. Still, there was no end in sight. Why am I even here? He wondered as two more immortals were blasted away. Why am I protecting the lump?
Because it's your duty.
All his life Vinson had been seen as fearless, as strong. But he did fear, he did have worries. He knew he was born for greatness, he knew it and no one else seemed to care. In page training he had been just another student, another beginner in the role of protecting the realm. He had been a no body. And then the Lump came along, and she was special, because she was a girl. Without trying, without being born a hero, as Vinson had, she received more attention then he had ever dreamed of having, and he despised her.
He had not wanted to be another nobody. He wanted attention, praise, ballads written just for him! And this, this guardian thing was his chance. It was his ticket out of nobody street. And he would not fail.
He slammed his finger down on the trigger, and shot off another round of bullets. Before him, he saw a clearing in the immortals. They were winning! He raced towards it, still firing bullets. If he could get behind the immortals, he could attack them from behind, while the other guardians would attack from ahead. The immortals would be so confused, they wouldn't know what to do!
So caught up in his dreams of victory, Vinson failed to realize the trap before the path disappeared behind him. There had been no "behind" in the immortals attack, at least, not that he could see. It had simply been a whole, conveniantly left open for him to walk into, so he would be surrounded by immortals. Vinson smirked. He would just have to clear another trail back.
Lifting the gun he pointed to the immortals blocking his way back to the safety of the other guardians. He pulled the trigger expectantly.and nothing happened. No gun blasts, no bullets of death, just a simple click.
He was out of ammo.
Desperatly he pulled again, and again. He was still pulling as the Spidren approached him. Still pulling, though now crying, as his left arm was pulled off by the immortal. Still pulling, and screaming and he fell to the ground, both legs torn from his body and eaten whole. Still pulling as the pincer of a Hantrink clasped around his neck. Vinson stopped pulling only when he head was cut from his shoulders in one, quick motion.
It didn't take long for the others to die. Bauxbart first, gutted by a Spidren, his insides eaten by a Jorgi, and his blood drunk by a Calihopper. Then LeAnne, sprayed with acid first on her arms, then her chest, then her legs. The look of extreme pain and horror on her face while she watched her body melt away was extremely pleasing to Mithros, as he rejoiced in three more of his children being saved by death. And while his prized daughter lay on the floor, weeping in anguish at the loss of her beloved siblings, she still did not understand.
This puzzled Mithros greatly. Did she not know that he was saving them from poison? Saving them so that she could be happy? And free from the lies of Kawitha? Did she not understand?
There was only one guardian left, the spirited boy called Owen. He too was crying. It was time to save him.
Owen had failed. Again.
First his mother, killed by bandits while his father was away from home. It was Owens job to look after her, Owens job to keep her safe. When the bandits had arrived, he had panicked. Forgetting his responsibility to his mother, he had run to the barn loft and hid. As he heard his mothers agonized screams as the bandits did George knows what to her was agonizing. When the screams stopped.that was even more painful.
For the second time in his life, Owen had been in charge of a womans safety. True, she was his personal love, and that it was no longer bandits they were up against, but the principals were the same. And as he watched his comrades fall, he found himself crying out her name.
"Keladry! Keladrrrrryyyy!"
It was his war cry, the name that gave him strength. On the other side of the window, Mithros would pity his son, whose love mirrored Mithros and Kawithas.
As arrow after arrow flew from his bow, tears streamed down his cheeks. He would not, he could not, fail Keladry. The numbers of the immortals were great, but so was the squires love for his mistress, and it would be a long, hard battle before either side won. As his determination grew, so did the strength of his arrows. Soon hundreds of immortals were burnt to a crisp with a single arrow, which were in flames even before it left his bow. Thousands of immortals turned into hundreds. Hundreds if immortals turned into tens. And still Owen did not let up.
Inside, Mithros worried. What if his son didn't die? Mithros could not bear to lose even one son to Kawithas magic, and the concept of Owen not being saved.was heartbreaking. Still, the boy had shown great amounts of potential. After he was saved, Mithros might make the boythe leaders of realms, the largest realms Mithros had ever created. Owen would be second only to Shyinue, and Shyinue would be second only to Mithros.
But Owen had to be saved.
It seemed a shame to run out of arrows after such a long battle. The immortals barely outnumbered him now, there were less then ten left. And still Owen found himself courting death. Throwing down his empty sack of arrows, he leapt at the nearest Spidren. Landing squarly on its neck, or what appeared to be its neck, Owen fastened the bow around its neck. A quick yank, a short flight, and Owens string had ripped through the Spidrens body like yarn through cheese. While the other spidrens circled him, he jumped onto another's back. Attempting to pull the same trick twice, Owen once more lifted his bow.
Only to find he didn't have it.
While Owen had been positioning himself on the Spidrens back, three more had snuck up behind him. One held his missing bow, and made short work of slicing it up into kindle. The other grabbed a hold of his tunic and lifted him into the air. As the other two closed in the side, Owen was quickly going blind with tears.
Keladry.
He had to see Kel one last time before he died. Turning his head the best he could, he drew in her beauty. Her hazel eyes were wide open, as if she would blink and he would be gone. Her tears matched his, and as he cried a final "I love you Keladry!" the Spidren finished their work of him. Dropping him into ones mouth, the top of his body was torn off, while lower half was fought over by the remaining Spidren.
Inside, Mithros rejoiced.
AN: This was my first battle scene, and I hope I didn't disappoint you all. I warned you that there would be deaths.
A Great thank you to all my reviewers! I realize that the formatting is a bit demented right now, I am TRYING to fix it.
Next Chapter: Kel confronts Mithros.
AN: Warning: Graphic Scenes. Not for young children. As a lot of Italics are used in this chapter, and they may not show up on ffn, I am going to use the ever annoying blah things to represent Mithros POV, thoughts, or flashbacks. Sorry!
Kel tightened her grip around her staff. Flames boiled up inside her, dying to be let out from the tip of the glaive-like blade at the end of the wand. Mithros was laughing. After all the hard work Kel had put into her training, first as a page, the as a sorceress, he had the nerve to laugh at her. Not the mocking laugh, which she knew so well from her years at the palace, nor was it the frightened laugh of a child caught doing something he should not.
Mithros was genuinely amused.
"I will kill you," she threatened. "For Kawitha's sake, I will kill you."
And he laughed.
(Mithros POV)
Kawitha.
Mithros breathed the sound of her name. It was as if just the sound would somehow bring her back to him, back to his world of splendor that he had created for her. He loved her, he always would. Her beautiful hair, her gentle smile, the way she would scold him if he allowed a few of his creations to get out of hand. The way she would be content to sit in his arms and watch the sky, the sky he had made for her. At the same time. He hated her. Kawitha was the bane of his existance, the everlasting punishment. The living proof that he could not control those he loved. He hated her for leaving him, robbing him of his powers and his children. Kawitha could say as she liked, but deep down, he knew the children of Kawitha were his, not created but made through his love, through their love. But she had stolen them, poisoned their minds against him. One, only one, had managed to break free from her spell long enough to warn him of Shyinue, his prized daughter, and her corruption. Kawitha had poisoned their minds, and Mithros would save them. Through death, death of their mortal bodies, Mithros would cast the poison from them, and they would return to him, be his heirs. And Shyinue would be his. Lithia, his current wife, would be unhappy. But he grew tired of her quickly. As soon as Shyinue was returned to him, his daughter would take Lithia's place as goddess, and Lithia would be cast out. Mitros had loved her once, long enough to bring forth a daughter to his prized realm, the human realm. However, love grew tired, and what was a mortal compared to Shyinue? Yes, he would kill his children out of love, and they would return to him. He would kill them now.
Come with me to the window
It was a command, and his dear, sweet Shyinue obeyed. Gingerly, untrusting him, she walked toward the window to look out on her siblings. One, the one he had called Vinsen, drew out the gun, a strange contraption Mithros had seen in one of his realms. Powerful things, guns were, but no match for his wonderous army of immortals.
Watch
It was Vinsen who started the battle, with the single gunshot aimed toward the nearest immortal. It was proper, Kel mused sadly, as it had been Vinsen who started it ages ago when he had told Mithros of Kawitha's plans.
The immortal died immediately.
Where the fallen immortal lay, two more took his place, and two more gunshots rang. Perfect hits. But three dead? Thee out of thousands, barely a scratch. The immortals closed in the gap again, but still made no move to strike.
Owen pulled out an arrow and strung it. Even from the distance of the window, Kel could see his hands shake. His fingers released the arrow, and it burst into flames. As it struck an immortal, the immortal and its three bordering soldiers lit on fire. As if it were a wildfire, flames leaped from immortal to immortal, clearing out over twenty.
Still, barely a scratch.
Joren unsheathed his sword and lifted it above his head. Spinning it in the classic "Reaper Swipes Corn" move that they had practiced numerous time under Lord Wyldons watchful eye, he was able to hit at least five of the closest Hantrinks, a particularly nasty breed of cockroaches. As LeAnne had predicted, a grayish hue overtook them, and they slowly crumbled at his feet.
Baux drew his own sword and attacked the nearest batch of Bilooks (overgrown apes that had knives attached to the arms) wildly, chopping off first their arms, then their heads. He didn't notice the blood that sprayed over his robes, or the heads he kicked away to reach the next group.
And still the immortals made no move to strike back.
LeAnne, the only guardian yet to use her weapon, knelt on the ground. Cupping her hands together, she blew into them softly. A pale blue mist streamed away from her hands and into the mouths and noses of the closest immortals. As if touched by acid, their faces melted, and dripped down, revealing deteriorating skulls, and rotting brains. The immortals collapsed.
Beside Kel, Mithros reared onto his back feet and kicked the glass. Not even a crack appeared. It was the signal for battle.
The motionless immortals sprang to life.
All around him war raged. This was the moment he had been preparing for, this was the moment he would make his parents proud. Spoilt as a child, he had gotten everything he wanted. He never had the urge to work for anything, never had the need to. He had had no oppurtunity to be a cause for any pride, and Joren had begun to suspect that even had he, his parents would not have cared.
But there was one who one. One, single soul who would be proud of him no matter his status, no matter his laziness. He would fight, he would die, and he would make Kel proud.
Love was worth that.
Joren focused his attention of the group of Hantrinks, who crawled forward. Their antenna's swung dangerously, shooting bits of acid from each end. Joren cursed as a glob hit his knee, and watched as it detatched itself from his thigh and fell to the ground. Standing on his good leg, he charged the offender, driving his blade through its chest. Behind him, a three- headed centuar kicked out its legs at the sword swinging Joren. The movement was sudden, not a muscle in the chest had betrayed it. One hoof spliced the hand holding the sword, tearing a long gash through Joren's tendon. The sword was flung aside, and lost beneath a sea of hoofs and claws. Joren fell to the ground, moaning, and clutched his useless hand. His eyes poured tears at the centuars feet as it reared up once again, and slammed its hoof against his skull. Joren quieted, his shattered head laid against the ground, a grim smile fixed upon his lips. Not even Vinsons shots, moments to late, saved Joren from his bloody grave.
Inside, Mithros laughed.
Shyinue looks upset. She does not understand. Her brother is saved, he will come back to me now. We can be a family.
She is glaring hatefully through the window, tears pouring down her cheeks for the man she did not even like. That's why he was the first to be saved. His death was humorous, how his friends tried to save him, and failed. But it is best to let my darling daughter adjust to the pain, adjust to the deaths. Perhaps I should kill Owen last. He seems to be the most dear to her.
It's a shame though, that Vinsens bullets had not missed. Centuars are rare visitors, and I would have like to keep that one a bit longer. Fascinating creature, really. They shall always be remembered as saviors of my son, Joren.
Kel was helpless. She could not save her friends, she could not save herself. The only way out was magic, and she would surely take Mithros with her if she tried to leave. Where was Kawitha? Where was Mother? Why wouldn't she come?
Vinsen continued to shoot at the immortals. Tens by tens the fell, as his aim improved and the immortals got closer. Still, there was no end in sight. Why am I even here? He wondered as two more immortals were blasted away. Why am I protecting the lump?
Because it's your duty.
All his life Vinson had been seen as fearless, as strong. But he did fear, he did have worries. He knew he was born for greatness, he knew it and no one else seemed to care. In page training he had been just another student, another beginner in the role of protecting the realm. He had been a no body. And then the Lump came along, and she was special, because she was a girl. Without trying, without being born a hero, as Vinson had, she received more attention then he had ever dreamed of having, and he despised her.
He had not wanted to be another nobody. He wanted attention, praise, ballads written just for him! And this, this guardian thing was his chance. It was his ticket out of nobody street. And he would not fail.
He slammed his finger down on the trigger, and shot off another round of bullets. Before him, he saw a clearing in the immortals. They were winning! He raced towards it, still firing bullets. If he could get behind the immortals, he could attack them from behind, while the other guardians would attack from ahead. The immortals would be so confused, they wouldn't know what to do!
So caught up in his dreams of victory, Vinson failed to realize the trap before the path disappeared behind him. There had been no "behind" in the immortals attack, at least, not that he could see. It had simply been a whole, conveniantly left open for him to walk into, so he would be surrounded by immortals. Vinson smirked. He would just have to clear another trail back.
Lifting the gun he pointed to the immortals blocking his way back to the safety of the other guardians. He pulled the trigger expectantly.and nothing happened. No gun blasts, no bullets of death, just a simple click.
He was out of ammo.
Desperatly he pulled again, and again. He was still pulling as the Spidren approached him. Still pulling, though now crying, as his left arm was pulled off by the immortal. Still pulling, and screaming and he fell to the ground, both legs torn from his body and eaten whole. Still pulling as the pincer of a Hantrink clasped around his neck. Vinson stopped pulling only when he head was cut from his shoulders in one, quick motion.
It didn't take long for the others to die. Bauxbart first, gutted by a Spidren, his insides eaten by a Jorgi, and his blood drunk by a Calihopper. Then LeAnne, sprayed with acid first on her arms, then her chest, then her legs. The look of extreme pain and horror on her face while she watched her body melt away was extremely pleasing to Mithros, as he rejoiced in three more of his children being saved by death. And while his prized daughter lay on the floor, weeping in anguish at the loss of her beloved siblings, she still did not understand.
This puzzled Mithros greatly. Did she not know that he was saving them from poison? Saving them so that she could be happy? And free from the lies of Kawitha? Did she not understand?
There was only one guardian left, the spirited boy called Owen. He too was crying. It was time to save him.
Owen had failed. Again.
First his mother, killed by bandits while his father was away from home. It was Owens job to look after her, Owens job to keep her safe. When the bandits had arrived, he had panicked. Forgetting his responsibility to his mother, he had run to the barn loft and hid. As he heard his mothers agonized screams as the bandits did George knows what to her was agonizing. When the screams stopped.that was even more painful.
For the second time in his life, Owen had been in charge of a womans safety. True, she was his personal love, and that it was no longer bandits they were up against, but the principals were the same. And as he watched his comrades fall, he found himself crying out her name.
"Keladry! Keladrrrrryyyy!"
It was his war cry, the name that gave him strength. On the other side of the window, Mithros would pity his son, whose love mirrored Mithros and Kawithas.
As arrow after arrow flew from his bow, tears streamed down his cheeks. He would not, he could not, fail Keladry. The numbers of the immortals were great, but so was the squires love for his mistress, and it would be a long, hard battle before either side won. As his determination grew, so did the strength of his arrows. Soon hundreds of immortals were burnt to a crisp with a single arrow, which were in flames even before it left his bow. Thousands of immortals turned into hundreds. Hundreds if immortals turned into tens. And still Owen did not let up.
Inside, Mithros worried. What if his son didn't die? Mithros could not bear to lose even one son to Kawithas magic, and the concept of Owen not being saved.was heartbreaking. Still, the boy had shown great amounts of potential. After he was saved, Mithros might make the boythe leaders of realms, the largest realms Mithros had ever created. Owen would be second only to Shyinue, and Shyinue would be second only to Mithros.
But Owen had to be saved.
It seemed a shame to run out of arrows after such a long battle. The immortals barely outnumbered him now, there were less then ten left. And still Owen found himself courting death. Throwing down his empty sack of arrows, he leapt at the nearest Spidren. Landing squarly on its neck, or what appeared to be its neck, Owen fastened the bow around its neck. A quick yank, a short flight, and Owens string had ripped through the Spidrens body like yarn through cheese. While the other spidrens circled him, he jumped onto another's back. Attempting to pull the same trick twice, Owen once more lifted his bow.
Only to find he didn't have it.
While Owen had been positioning himself on the Spidrens back, three more had snuck up behind him. One held his missing bow, and made short work of slicing it up into kindle. The other grabbed a hold of his tunic and lifted him into the air. As the other two closed in the side, Owen was quickly going blind with tears.
Keladry.
He had to see Kel one last time before he died. Turning his head the best he could, he drew in her beauty. Her hazel eyes were wide open, as if she would blink and he would be gone. Her tears matched his, and as he cried a final "I love you Keladry!" the Spidren finished their work of him. Dropping him into ones mouth, the top of his body was torn off, while lower half was fought over by the remaining Spidren.
Inside, Mithros rejoiced.
AN: This was my first battle scene, and I hope I didn't disappoint you all. I warned you that there would be deaths.
A Great thank you to all my reviewers! I realize that the formatting is a bit demented right now, I am TRYING to fix it.
Next Chapter: Kel confronts Mithros.