Naked and unprotected, Ewoden retrieved some Sarafan armour from the crates nearby and slipped it on; removing the symbols of the Order. He didn't want some Archer from the rebellion putting an arrow in his head by mistake.
Then he returned to the body of Sir Gaunt.
This man had been fighting under a flawed logic, his mind warped by priests whose words would break through the minds of even the most steadfast of men but even so this man had been a fellow knight and thus deserved the final respects.
Ewoden laid the body in a more respectable position, handing him his blade and pulling his eyelids down.
"When you see you're brother…" Ewoden started after a moment of prolonged silence. "Tell him… tell him I'm sorry."
Gaunt did not reply.
The Sarafan reinforcements which were supposed to cut off the rebellion and prevent them from marching on the fortress had been routed. The Cabal had taken them regiments unawares, ambushing them as they attempted to ambush the citizenry.
The Order, so arrogant for so long, had greatly underestimated the strength of the people they ruled over. Outnumbering the order almost one hundred to one, the peasantry swarmed over their defences and where now at the gates that led across the bridge to the fortress. Ewoden could see the crowd from the courtyard.
Stepping out into the moonlight, Ewoden found that he did not change shape into his lupine form. That honestly did not surprise him very much. Almost instinctively he knew that now he was the Guardian for the Pillar of Nature, he could control the beast within; thus giving him the ability to change shape whenever he wanted regardless of the stages of the moon.
The tower sentries were attempting to turn the massive barrage cannons around to face inland, rotating the massive weapons and loading them at the same time. They were preparing to open fire on the dissenters.
"No…" Ewoden muttered, a stern expression of anger coming onto his face. "You've soiled the name of knighthood far too much already." Without hesitation he cupped his hands in front of his chest; his fingers arching forward to drawn several arcane and ancient runes in mid air.
Summoning forth a torrent of fire, Ewoden sent flames flying towards each cannon. The heat ignited the gunpowder and the resulting inferno burst forth, causing the torrents and mounted defences to explode.
Bricks, motor and flaming pieces of iron shot out into the night sky; illuminating almost the entire city.
Dodging bits of falling rubble, Ewoden raced over to the gate which was still bared shut. Sarafan knights, their armour ripped and torn, ran past him; using their shields to try to protect themselves from the toppling debris.
The gate was still holding firm and through the holes in it, Ewoden could see the bridge leading to the mainland. The crowd had retreated back across it when the battlements exploded but they would quickly regain confidence and charge.
Reaching up, Ewoden tried to move the giant metallic barrier that kept the gate shut out the way. It was made of blackened iron and was far too heavy for him to reach, even with the flow of energy he could feel from being united with the Pillar of Nature.
He had to get this gate open though. He could finish this war right here. That crowd was poised on the brink of destroying the Order and their corruption.
But only if they acted quickly enough. The stronghold troops could hold this castle until their army returned from the north and then it would be too late to overthrown them.
This had to end now.
Suddenly Ewoden felt extra lift working with him and looking up, he saw the hulking, shaggy form of Obelisk. Still in his wolf state, the warrior wasted no word. He heaved the metal bar up, pulling over the top of the huge buckets and then with one last shove pulled it aside.
Once it was clear, Ewoden brought his foot up and then slammed it hard against the gate. His enhanced strength came to bare, knocking the gate open with a crashing thud, the gear works responsible for opening the gate normally, smashing apart.
"We've done it Obelisk!" Ewoden declared as, through the cloud of mortar dust, he could see the crowd moving back against the bridge towards the now open entrance. "We've done…" Before he could finish, the wolf collapsed forward onto its knees before finally toppling onto its front. Now Ewoden could see the deep wounds that coated its body, deep bites and cuts that sliced down to the bone.
"Obelisk no!" Ewoden cried, trying to stir him but it was already too late. The wolf shimmered, the fur receding back into the body and the autonomy correcting itself as Obelisk became human again. He was not breathing.
With utter horror Ewoden watched as a part of the horrible vision he had received at Midgard came to pass. He was dead.
Glancing up, tears in his eyes, Ewoden watched as the one responsible came souring out of the shadows at him. Kal… the traitor. The Seroli who had betrayed them, fed information to the Order and almost led to the rebellion's defeat.
In wolf form Kal charged, fangs readied and claws outstretched. Acting on blind rage, Ewoden brought his hands up and discharged a spell of elemental power. He didn't even bother to draw the runes needed to control it; he simply fired every ounce of spiritual energy inside his body in one unfocused burst.
The traitor was seared, the fur disappearing followed by the skin, then the flesh and finally the bones.
The backlash from the spell hurt him but kneeling over the body of his friend, Ewoden did not care.
This man had been the one to give him the mark of the wolf, which Ewoden knew now to be a gift not a curse. He had taught him how to use it, how to control the beast within. Without Obelisk, Ewoden would never have come this far. But Ewoden grieved not for a mentor nor for a guide. He grieved for the loss of another friend.
Death just kept coming back for more. It claimed Ewoden's mother, the other slaves in the mines of Willendorf. It claimed Cabal, Seroli, Sarafan and peasant alike and still it kept on coming back for more.
Death's hunger was never sated. It would not stop until it had claimed every single one of them.
"You BASTARD!!!" Ewoden cursed into the sky, holding a blood stained fist high. "When are you going to be satisfied?!"
He was so caught up in his own despair that he didn't even notice the flash of light from behind him as several beings materialised out of the midst of a translocation spell.
"Ewoden!" Sally started. She made to rush over to him but stopped when she saw the body her lover was crouched over. "Oh no…" She breathed and then slowly joined his side.
"Why?" Ewoden demanded, asking the question not of her but from everything around him. "Why do we all have to keep killing each other like this? Sarafan, human, vampire, Hylden, werewolf…. What god damn difference does it make?"
"Such chaos and death." T'kral muttered, staring around at the flaming remains of the castle walls. "How could I have yearned for this? I wanted to see the vampires like this... all of them. I wanted to see them burning."
With unveiled eyes he looked upon the destruction and saw it for what it was. A waste. There was no glory in it.
"We'd become monsters, all of us."
His sister laid a hand gently on his shoulder.
"It was only a nightmare, T'kral." She told him. "It's over now."
He shook his head.
"No its not." He replied. "We have to put this all to an end. This war has to stop." He looked up at the main keep which was still flying the banner of the Sarafan order. "And the only way it will stop is when those parasites are defeated."
Ewoden stood up sharply and glanced up across the bridge towards the rest of Wilendrof where the fighting was still going on.
"What's wrong?" Sally asked him.
"This is all what I saw at Midgard." He told her, allowing a small slip of fear to rush to the surface. "This is the just the beginning now. If this happened…then the next death I saw will come to pass."
"Whose?" She asked.
"Ramok's." Ewoden said simply, about facing and charging through the gate and into the ground; pushing past the militia men charging into the now open fortress. Sally took a running start before leaping into the air after him, using her natural vampiric abilities to fly above the heads of the rebelling peasantry after the man she loved.
"There were moments when I did not think they could survive the election." The Seer confessed staring after them. "The two young lovers appeared to be the weakest amongst us at Midgard. Yet they have proven me wrong. Within them is a hidden strength. A strength that allowed them to assume their Guardianship long before the rest of us."
There was a sudden loud scream, the sound of a woman.
William looked up in alarm.
"Alicia!!" He cried out.
--
The princess had been strapped across a large flat metal table, her arms and legs pinned in place by large metallic shackles. Her father stood there, watching with an intensely pained expression as the alchemist readied his equipment. He wished, so sincerely wished, that there was another way.
But Sabre had already assured him that there was not. If his daughter's soul was to be saved… the procedure had to continue. The king was not entirely certain what the procedure entailed but he trusted the good judgement of the Sarafan leader.
"Father please…." Alicia muttered. "Please… listen to me."
The king tried his best to look impartial but didn't really succeed.
"They've lied to you. The Sarafan do not represent the true god." The princess tried again, pleading with her father.
One of the guards moved forward and slapped her around the face sharply with his metal gauntlet.
"Blasphemer! The Sarafan Order IS god!!"
The king looked up at him sharper.
"You are the blasphemer here." He declared. "How dare you claim to be the almighty?!"
"Restrain him." Elzevir stated without looking around. Without hesitation two more Sarafan grabbed the king from behind and held him fast. He struggled to free himself but the trained warriors were a great deal stronger than he was.
"What is the meaning of this?!" He demanded, shooting a glance back over his shoulder towards Elzevir.
The small, balding little man chuckled.
"I simply don't want you in the way." He retorted and lifted some object out of a wooden case. The king couldn't see it very well from behind him. "Of course…. I'll deal with you once the Princess is collected."
"Collected?" The king repeated. "Just what are you doing?"
"Oh you damn Ottmar's!" There was a tone of unwavering hate in Elzevir's voice. "I hate your family! I hate it beyond everything else! I want you all to suffer!" He turned around slowly and the king froze; eyes wide open and mouth agape. Utter horror was plain upon his face.
Passed down from one Ottmar king to the next was a story, a story about a doll maker, who had arrived in court and presented a beautiful doll to the ruling king and his only daughter. The only payment the doll maker would take for such a magnificent toy was a lock of the princess' hair.
Not long after that, the princess' soul was torn from her body and imprisoned within another doll of the doll maker's choosing.
The item Elzevir was carrying was a rag doll. The same one described as in the stories as being the respectable for the imprisoned princess' soul.
Suddenly realizing just what fiend he was in the company of; the king carried out and struggled violently against the Sarafan holding him.
"Doll-maker!!!" He almost screamed as Elzevir moved slowly towards the pinned down princess. The short man simply widened his grin and with his free hand, reached into his pocket and withdrew a pair of scissors.