Crimson Twilight: Dusk

Chapter 27: Solcry

"Off to bed, Makaelthos?"

Makaelthos shook his head at his partner's question. He wouldn't be able to sleep if he knew there were tasks left undone for the night. "I still have to make a report at the cathedral." He answered. "It could take a while." With that, he parted ways with his partner and headed towards the cathedral.

Civilians would often be confused as to what was Makaelthos's position in the regular army. He made reports to both the army and the Church and had superiors on both sides. As a crusader was a careful blend of martial prowess and spiritual strength, he was an intermediary between the two closely linked organizations.

He was the First Knight Division's crusader specialist, meaning that he handled any situation regarding the undead, demons or Church matters. In those cases, he served as the functioning leader with Eliarainne deferring to him. Outside those duties his main duty was to advise Eliarainne on the Church's standing on any situation as well as to use his ability to heal to keep her alive and prevent the entire division from being leaderless. This was why they were partners, even though he wasn't even the sub-commander of the division. That rank belonged to Sir Althamas Kadrezyll. Along with it was the unfortunate job of handling most of the First Knight Division's paperwork.

"You good-for-nothing snake!" Someone shouted from across the street. "What do you mean you're hungry?"

Makaelthos looked to see who could possibly be out on the streets at this time of night. Prontera held no curfew but at times of crisis like the orcish attack, finding someone outside who was not a member of the regular army was suspicious. At once, he spotted the figure of a man outside another tavern; a merchant by the looks of his outfit. This one was accompanied by an enormous coiled creature with the body of a woman at one end and a tail at another; an isis slave.

Through the use of magical devices called armlets of obedience, people could risk their lives and try to capture and enslave the demonic snake-women of the pyramids. Armlets of obedience, like silver knives of chastity, had origins supposedly traceable to the rituals of Glastheim. Makaelthos didn't have to confirm it to be true. Evil places produced evil things and such objects of oppression could only come from the same place that produced the Dark Lord.

Pronteran law prohibited the creation of such devices within its territory but had no problems with the slaves themselves. There were reasons as to why Makaelthos considered the law imperfect even as he upheld it. This was one of them. Ironic that it was the same thing that kept people from prying too much into his relationship with Khaesilya.

The man was beating an isis slave with a club. The creature did not fight back, even though she towered over the man. If it was a free isis, she would have grabbed the attacker and laughed wickedly while his ribs crumpled in her coils. But this wasn't a free isis. She did raise her arms to protect herself from the constant beatings. "Please master. I haven't eaten for days!" She cried out.

The pleading only seemed to make the man angrier. Makaelthos could see the bruises that marked the isis's arms. Some of them looked old, signs that this had often happened before. Not only that, the isis was particularly thin. He could see the creature's rib cage sticking out of her skin and her arms looked sickly and extremely pale. The scales on her tail, usually bright red, were dull and grayish.

"You gluttonous snake!" The merchant shouted. "Don't you know how your food costs these days?"

Makaelthos was about to step forward to interfere when a cloaked man beat him to it. The man grabbed a hold of the merchant's arm with such force that the club fell from his fingers.

"Filthy slaver, is it not enough that you starve this creature that you must beat her as well?"

The merchant turned to face the cloaked figure. He tugged at the man's arm but could not get free of the iron grip. "And who the hell are you to interfere?" He shot back. "Go get your own isis to pamper, commoner!"

Red eyes gleamed under the hood. A bandaged hand suddenly grasped the merchant by the neck and lifted him a off the ground. "Commoner!" He raised his voice. Makaelthos easily recognized the powerful tone. "You think any form of rank would save you should I decide to crush your neck?"

The merchant struggled to break free from the figure's grip and looked back to his isis. "What are you waiting for?" He gagged. "Protect me!"

The isis hesitated as she stared at the cloaked figure. Realization dawned on her swiftly. "Your imperial majesty, please! I am bound to protect this man!" She hissed.

The bandaged man suddenly grabbed hold of the armlet of obedience from one of the merchant's pouches. He quickly crushed it to powder with one hand. The merchant stared at the man in panic and then at the isis. Without the armlet of obedience, the isis was free and demons took a dim view of those who would enslave them. "Imperial majesty?" He cried out in confusion. "Just who the hell are you?"

The man raised his other fist. All it would take was one blow to break this man in half.

"Enough!" Makaelthos rushed to stop the figure. His saber was already in his hand. The figure turned to face him.

"We meet again, Solcry." The bandaged man dropped the merchant, who immediately ran from him.

The isis stared after the man but did not follow. Instead, she turned to face the one that saved her instead. "As all of my kind are bound to do so, I am ready to serve you once more, your imperial majesty." She hissed softly.

The mummy didn't even look at the demon. "I will have use for you soon enough." He answered. "Join your sisters in my service." With a wave of his bandaged hand, Osiris opened a swirling pool of light on the ground. Without another word, the isis entered the portal and vanished.

Makaelthos watched Osiris curiously. He had never expected any act of kindness performed by an immortal who had slain countless people who entered his tomb. Then again, he recalled learning that, in life, Osiris was the most benevolent emperor in the history of the Moroccan Empire. "I didn't know the abuse of slaves infuriated you so, Osiris." He said.

Osiris turned to face Makaelthos. Red eyes still gleamed from his hood. "I do not care for them as you might think I do, Solcry." He answered. "They may serve me but they are demons and would turn on me in an instant if they had not been bound so long ago."

Makaelthos raised an eyebrow. "They are your tomb guardians, correct?" He asked. "There are no other places to find an isis save for the tomb of Osiris."

Osiris's fists clenched. "They are more than just guardians! They are…a gift."

Makaelthos kept his guard up. While he had the feeling that Osiris was not the type to attack without reason. The power of an immortal could never be underestimated. "A gift?" He asked. "What are you talking about?"

Osiris' fist unclenched. "Of course you don't know, despite you being Solcry you still see me as nothing more than an undead abomination. I was once alive you know!"

Makaelthos's eyes narrowed. That was twice that Osiris reacted to his name now. "What do you mean by "despite me being Solcry"?" He asked. "What do you know of my family?"

Osiris approached Makaelthos slowly. "I know much more about your family than you could even dream of, Makaelthos Solcry." He answered. As for your original question, the isis were a gift from my wife. The last gift made to me before I died. To think they have been reduced to mere servitude for mortals who have neither idea nor respect for their origins!"

Osiris drew himself to full height and stared at Makaelthos. "You have the same eyes." He went on. "One thousand years have passed since I last saw her and yet you, despite having been removed by so many generations, still inherit those eyes."

Makaelthos stared incredulously at Osiris. "What are you saying?"

Osiris turned away and left. "There's no need to tell you more, Solcry. Whether you find out or not is of no consequence." With that, he disappeared into the night.

Makaelthos sheathed his weapon went on his way. There was something about the mummy's words that made him feel uneasy about himself. It was certainly strange that Osiris would take a close interest in his family.

"So how come you didn't tell him everything, Osiris?" The doppelganger asked. He watched his partner curiously. It had been several days since they were forced to remain inside Prontera. The orcish immortals, as well as the Goblin King, the Panzer Goblin and Werewolf had surrounded the capital in a living hedge of minions. He did not mind though. He was fascinated by the variety of people living inside the capital of Rune-Midgard. As a result, he was never bored. Osiris, on the other hand, was busy finding out more about the crusader who was responsible for Drake's destruction.

"There is no need to tell that man, doppelganger." Osiris replied dourly. There was a rumble in his voice that told the doppelganger that the conversation was unwelcome.

The blond swordsman laughed. "Well you've already hinted some tidbits of his past anyway." He continued. "Why not tell him that he's a descendant of your son, Re-Horakhty "The Sole Cry"?"

Osiris stared at the Pronteran Cathedral. The doppelganger was telling the truth. He knew without doubt that this Makaelthos Solcry was probably the last living descendant of his son, Horus, who was also called Re-Horakhty by his peers. He clenched his fists again. Even though he had died long before his wife, Isis, his spirit was kept bound within his undead form. He endured more than a thousand years of separation from his wife, who was patiently waiting for him in the next world. The war had at last given him his chance. The doppelganger had mentioned of a way for him to finally join his wife and sons in the afterlife. In order to do so, he had to survive what the shadowy immortal could only call "Crimson Twilight". "Now is not the time to tell him." He answered. " Even someone as dense as you can sense why, doppelganger!"

The doppelganger snorted and wrinkled his nose. "You mean the presence of The Dark Lord? Yeah, I feel it! Smell it too. Or it could be those rotten eggs that innkeeper over there threw out."

The two immortals stared at the Pronteran Cathedral. The Dark Lord was lurking somewhere in Prontera. Both of them knew of the great evil he could carry out.

"So do you know what he wants from that place, Osiris?" The doppelganger asked.

Osiris shook his head. "Abraxil Sovivor was a high priest during the final days of Glastheim." He answered. "Perhaps it is revenge but he is among the most cunning of immortals. There will be more to that."

The doppelganger shrugged his shoulders. "We can handle him. But tell me, Osiris. Why are your descendants called Solcry?"

Osiris' eyes narrowed. He hated talking about his past. Still, he knew that the doppelganger would not leave him alone if he refused to answer. "When I finally died, I was meant to go to the afterlife as all souls do." He began. "One of my sons, Anubis, along with the other priests, on the other hand, wanted me to continue ruling. They developed a way to resurrect me, using powerful Glastheimian spells. With Isis still grieving for me, it was my other son, Horus, who spoke against the plan. I was with him when he spoke against the Church. No one listened to him. The citizens of Morroc jokingly referred to him as "The Sole Cry" against the plans to bring me back. The priests continued their plans-"

The doppelganger smiled and finished the familiar story. "-and the spell went crazy; turning you into a really awesome immortal instead In the meantime, it looks like the term "Sole Cry" stuck to your son; eventually turning to "Solcry". That is, before the Imperial Moroccan council banished him on the grounds of sabotaging the spell; stripping him of his right to succeed you and blotting out his place in history. But you don't seem to be too happy about being immortal, Osiris."

The mummy glared at the doppelganger for making him tell an unnecessary story. "That's because I'm not!" He growled. "I miss my family, doppelganger! Every time I see the snake demons they named after my wife, I think of what it would have been like if I wasn't trapped in this form!"

The doppelganger raised his hands. "Whoa! Easy there, Osiris! Like I said there's a way for you to give up your immortality but we have to wait for this "Crimson Twilight" thing!"

Osiris brooded silently. The doppelganger had explained that "Crimson Twilight" would only take place after a majority of the immortals have killed each other. There was so much fighting to do before he could reach that stage. In the meantime, he was constantly reminded of his family by the crusader, Makaelthos. "Let us go to the Pronteran Cathedral then. We may yet catch the Dark Lord off guard."

Makaelthos's pace slowed as he walked towards the Cathedral. He had gotten to thinking about his encounter with Osiris. 'Osiris was about to say something but, for some reason, he decided against it.' He thought. 'And what did he mean by "her"? Was he talking about his wife?'

Makaelthos knew a few things about ancient Moroccan Empire history. The wife of Osiris was a powerful high priestess named Isis. When the empire was attacked by the snake demons summoned by Osiris' jealous brother, Set, it was Isis who bound them with powerful magic to her will. These demons were later to become the guardians of Osiris' tomb; they were called "isis" after the high priestess.

'He makes it sound like I was descended from Isis herself.' He thought. 'But that's impossible! That would make him my ancestor. Besides, Osiris only had one son, and from a different mother of all people.'

Makaelthos continued recalling what he knew of Moroccan Imperial History. The lone son of Osiris was a priest named Anubis, who was the son of Nephthys. What he found strange was that Nephthys was Osiris's sister-in-law. He was tempted to ask the mummy about these things but decided against it. Osiris may be less inclined to slay mortals like the other immortals but he was still unpredictable. Makaelthos would not ask such a probing personal question to a living mortal let alone an undead immortal.

The air around him suddenly grew thick and heavy. Alarmed, he drew his saber and looked around. The shadows were suddenly much darker and he felt as if he was inside a tightly enclosed tomb. There was a damp, musty stench around the air that reminded him of a mud-covered charnel pit. There was something in heading towards him; taking shelter in the blot of unnatural darkness he found himself in. The nearby ruwachs of the street had been suppressed.

"Hold, crusader." A grating voice several feet in front of him spoke. It sounded like a pair of dry pieces of wood rubbing against each other.

In response, Makaelthos raised his saber and concentrated; banishing the unnatural darkness. Though the area remained dim, he could now see well enough to see what was ahead. He looked up to see who had spoken.

In front of Makaelthos floated a pair desiccated corpses. They were practically skeletons with a thin layer of dried flesh stretched out across them like a morbid kite. Their lower jaws hung loosely from their skulls through a thin cord of muscle. He recognized the smell of grave soil, the wooden crosses strapped to their backs and the blood-stained, rotting, scarlet garments they wore.

"We will not allow you to interfere with our lord's plans." The lead corpse spoke. Its mouth did not move as the words left its rotted throat.

Makaelthos kept his saber up. The glimmering white light on its edge intensified until it was a glowing shaft of brightness. He had encountered these things before; many times during his expeditions to Glastheim, the lowest levels of the coal mines and, strangely enough, in the caves of Payon. "I don't know how you evil druids entered this city." He said. "But I'm going to purify it of your presence nonetheless!"

Makaelthos charged and ducked the first evil druid's blow. The frail arm that the evil druids swung didn't look like it could even knock down a child but a touch from the horrid things could turn flesh into crumbling stone. They didn't affect metal or anything not alive though. He slashed vertically at the undead monster's chest and followed it up with a horizontal one. He stepped back before the creature could recover and whispered a quick prayer. The cross-shaped wound on the creature's chest exploded with brilliant white light. He deflected the strike of the second evil druid even as the first floated slowly backwards in agony; a cross-shaped burn on its chest. Even in the thick of combat, Makaelthos was analyzing the situation. Something about what these creatures said piqued his interest. 'What lord are they talking about?' He thought. 'They don't mean the Dark Lord do they?'

Realization dawned on Makaelthos. 'They're too near the Cathedral! That means the Dark Lord is there!' He concluded. He sidestepped another swing from the evil druid's desiccated arms, at the same time he positioned himself between the two monsters.

'I have to get to the cathedral!'

Makaelthos plunged his saber to the ground. Holy energy exploded from his being; forming a massive, cross-shaped explosion that brightened everything around him with the strength of daylight. The creatures howled as the silent explosion engulfed them. When the blast disappeared, there was nothing left of them but clumps of dust. Without inspecting the remains, he rushed towards the cathedral.

'I hope I'm not too late.'

Makaelthos finally reached the Cathedral. He got there in time to see an enormous, flaming boulder break through the roof of the cathedral and explode within the building. From the looks of the threshold alone, he feared that he was already too late. The bodies of priests lay scattered across the stairs like fallen leaves. Their faces were twisted into expressions of pure horror. He ran past the open double doors that led to the main ceremonial chamber.

He had arrived just in time to see the Dark Lord's skeletal hands close in on Silmeia.

World notes

Evil Druids – Evil druids are the undead remains of the priests of the ancient glastheimian church who failed their initiation into becoming high priests during the later period of Glastheim. The enormous crosses strapped to the backs of their corpses as signs of their being weighed down to the earth before they were thrown into a great charnel pit. During the Dark Lord's rise, necrotic energies seeped into the soil of this pit and imbued the buried corpses with false life and an affinity for earth, including the ability to turn living flesh into crumbling stone.

Armlet of Obedience – these work almost identically as Silver Knives of Chastity but are made from select scales taken from, at least, ten isis. Isis slaves, due to their less attractive appearances and greater food requirements, often fetch lower prices than sohee slaves.