VI. Line Of Sight
Nothing happened. Ryan had not though anything would happen but, judging by Cromwell shocked face, he had be definitively expecting him to obey. He was not sure what that mean, or how he had gotten out of whatever spell he had tried to cast on him just now, but it didn´t really change anything. Killing that bastard was still his priority.
"Master, why is he not doing anything? The ring..." It was that thing, then. He will make sure to smash it after finishing this. Or, better yet, use it for himself.
"I don´t know." Cromwell said. "And I don´t care. Kill him."
And with that the barrier started closing around him, crackling menacingly. He grimaced. If it touched him, he was dead. That was no longer has bothersome as it had be not even an hour before, but it was still a bit of a problem and, besides, he was not going to just roll over and die. He raised a hand. Healing himself may work. It would be dangerous, since the impact would surely leave in the defenseless, but it was his best chance. When the barrier hit him, he casted the Heal Miracle. The electricity coursing through his body made the world when white. He dropped to his knees, and his back arched in a short and sharp move.
"Sheffield!" Suddenly, it was like a great weight had be lifted for his chest-he could breath again. His hands grasped for support, but found none. "Why he is not dead? That is one of your strongest artifacts, right?"
"Healing. He healed himself, but that´s..." Ryan dragged himself to his feet, and ran towards Cromwell, sword raised. That was it; he just had to do this one little thing. Everything would be over when he was dead.
Something took hold of his shoulders and he was sent flying. The ceiling spun once right before his eyes. His back hit the table, and it broke under his weight, sending him to the floor among the broken pieces. Somehow, he managed to kept hold on his sword. Ryan sat up, and then stood up slowly, with one hand on a nearby desk for support. Sheffield was there, right in front of Cromwell, one hand shining with an eerie blue light held out towards him.
"Master, get back." Sheffield said. Cromwell turned around, spluttering and ran towards the door. Ryan followed him with his gaze, and launched the Fireball Pyromancy at him. He was aiming at his chest, but Cromwell was a little to fast, and the fireball hit the ground, near him. It exploded, its plant leg catching fire, the shock-wave sending him crashing down to the floor, screaming. The material was quickly burned through, and the flesh and meat behind it. When the fire dissipated, his leg was nothing more that a useless, bleeding stump. He crawled to the wall on his hands, moaning weakly, leaving a trail of blood on his way. "Master, you have to stop moving! Your leg..."
"Shut the fuck up and kill him, you stupid bitch!" Cromwell screamed. "Kill him!"
Sheffield shot a ball of blue light after him. He cut it down with his sword, without even slowing down. She took a step back, gritting her teeth and did a couple of quick gestures with her arms. Ryan stopped him his tracks. The gave two short, quick shakes and those creatures she had used on their duel burst from the ground all around him. They shot out towards him, their arms raised and when the first one grabbed him, the others soon followed suit, piling on him, clawing at him while shrieking insanely. He tried to shake them off, and slashed at them, but it was useless. For every one that died, two more appeared. Shit. No choice. Its very name gave him a bitter taste on his throat, but it would save him now, like it did many times before. So, he held out a hand and unleashed the Wrath of The Gods.
A shock wave spread across the ground, starting from just below his feet, destroying nearly all of the creatures in a single instant, and throwing the rest creatures out of him. They hit the wall, making a dull thud upon impact, like they were empty inside, and disappeared. What remained of them was just the smell of burning, barely noticeable and even that soon faded. He took a step forward. Sheffield was on the ground, clutching his right hand, which was hanging uselessly, with her left. Gritting her teeth, she looked up at him, forced herself to her feet and shot another blue ball right at him. He cut it down, easily and continued his advance. For the distance, he cached worried voices and the sounds of various footsteps. Cromwell´s army, Reconquista, was coming to investigate the ruckus. This had to end, now.
"Don´t come near me!" She shrieked, and fired once more, again and again, while frantically stepping back. He cut them down without missing a beat, trapped her against the wall and stabbed the sword to one side of her face, cutting down a few strands of her hair. Her hood fell down, revealing her face. He stared at her eyes, for just a moment. Then:
"Know your place." Ryan breathed out, then drove the sword through her heart. She gasped, then screamed in pain while trashing around. When he saw her body going limp, her glazed over eyes. The footsteps sounded even closer. He had not time to kill her enough times for her to go Hollow, like he did to Wardes. Cromwell´s army was approaching, so his best chance of taking the upper hand was a gamble. He gave his back to Sheffield, and approached the fallen and bleeding Cromwell, who had crawled to the door and was fiddling with the locks. He grabbed his air, and tugged it back. Cromwell let out a panicked yell, and his hands tried to reach his own, but he moved swiftly and made a deep gash on his throat with his sword. He struggled with more force for a few seconds, but soon enough his body went completely limp and his heart stopped beating. Ryan let his corpse fall to the ground, took off the ring from his right hand and put it on his own.
At that moment, the door burst open at the Reconquista soldiers came rushing in, weapons held high and then immediately stopped, as one, looking lost as they oversaw the scene. Ryan smelled something faintly burning. He looked down and saw him, skin rotten, leg still a stump coated with blood, trying to stand up while supporting himself on the wall, the darksign´s light already fading.
"Kill him." Cromwell croaked. "Kill him."
The soldiers recovered their composure, but he was not going to give them a chance to move. He pointed at them with his right hand. Maybe the ring had some special trigger or something, but it seemed reasonable to assume that it didn´t. Cromwell had just done this, after all, and he had expected it work. He had not fell Cromwell´s magical energy, either.
"Acknowledge me as your king." The soldiers stopped, and knelled down in front of him, heads held down in submission. He hesitated, for a moment. Did it really work, or it was just some kind of trick? Ah, he had to stop being so stupidly paranoid. They had the numerical advantage so they didn´t need to use any tricks to have a chance of victory. "Kill these two as many times as necessary." They split off in two big groups. One pushed down Cromwell, and the other did the same to Sheffield. The two of them struggled and scream, but it was all useless. They died, again and again, and were brought back to life until, finally, they went Hollow and were put down for the last time. Now Albion was his and Halkagenia would soon follow.
Ryan smiled.
He watched the fleet descended towards Tristania from his position on the deck of the largest ship, the one that Cromwell was supposed to use, idly toying with the pommel of his sword. Its name was Lexington. Both him and Sheffield were both dead, but that didn´t mean the problems were over. Tristania, has the closes kingdom and the weakest one, had to be out of his way. However, directly taking over Tristania was not needed.
The darksign was spreading, and he was the only one who knew about it, so that would grant him a certain standing, even if he had killed that Valliere girl, which he would use to establish close contact with both Germania and Tristania, and let his men slowly take the over the most important positions, leaving his group with the most power and influence in three of all four countries.
They had agreed to meet on Tarbes to discuss things. He didn´t know where it was but, then again, he was not one of the people piloting the leading ship and the place didn´t matter even negotiations went bad, for some reason, because they held every possible advantage and, even though King Albrecht the Third was slated to marry Princes Henrietta, they wouldn´t not come fast enough to save them and there was a big possibility that they wouldn´t even try. Heh.
A few minutes after, his fleet got level with Tristania´s fleet. He watches as his soldier send messages by signal from the mast.
"We thank you for your fleet´s welcome. This is the captain of Albion´s fleet."
"We give you our warmest welcome. This is the commander in chief of the Tristanian fleet."
The Lexington fired into the air, as a salute. It seemed quite a ridiculous process to him, and likely to cause unfortunate accidents, but it was a custom of this world and for now he had to play by its rules to get anything done. The Tristanian fleet fired their cannons in response, seven times. He frowned slightly. As his soldiers told him, eleven was the minimum required for top ranked nobles. Oh, well. It was likely that it didn´t mean anything important. They may be disrespectful, but they just couldn´t risk war breaking out between Albion and Tristania.
His fleet docked slowly in a nearby port and together with his soldiers, went to meet the Tristanian soldiers. In was much smaller that his own group, not even half the size. A man stepped up, and held out his hand towards him-surely the commander in chief. He took it, and shook it.
"My name is Ryan Blackwater, the King Of Albion." Blackwater had not special meaning, it had just popped up in his head one day and he decided that it was as good of a surname as any other. "Is a pleasure to meet you."
"My name is Frederick De Guant, the commander in chief of the Tristanian Fleet. Is a pleasure to meet you, too. Now, please, follow us." And so, they did. They got inside a carriage, though a few of Guant´s group didn´t fit in and had to enter another one. The rider drove towards the palace at a steady pace, not hurrying or loafing. In less that an hour, they were at the palace gates at hurrying inside. After going to tedious presentations, him and a chosen handful of soldiers were let alone with Princess Henrietta and her own entourage. He had be told the Princess was quite young but, seeing that she essentially ruled Tristain since the dead of the King, he expected something more that a young girl in a long pink dress with a rather low cut top looking at him with earnest eyes. They shook hands, and sat in front of each other, their guards surrounding them.
"King Ryan." She said, her voice smooth, flowing yet steady like the voice of the princess she was supposed to be. It was apparent, though, that she was naught but a child, from her body and her entire mannerisms. She would reach for the best outcome for her country, yes, but she lacked the ruthless necessary to step over other people´s life's. Hell, he was unsure she had the guts to order his execution, even if he slapped her right in the face in front of her more trusted soldiers. It seemed like a stupid thing to even think, but really, such earnest eyes made him kind of believe it."Is a pleasure to talk with you in person for the first time and I hope many will follow."
Her hands were shaking. Uh, interesting. Perhaps it was simply that she hated it for over throwing the system that gave her and her family power, and being forced to dealt with him as an equal, but it could be something more personal.
"As I do. However, forgive me for being blunt, but we have far for more important matters here. The curse, for instance." Speaking like that was a real pain, but it was necessary to be taken seriously. "Tell me about how things are going."
"We first discovered this... curse... long after it already raced the village of Eneek." Her face fell, but she quickly regained her composure. Uh. That just confirmed how childish she was. Not for feeling bad for the death, but feeling responsibility over something that was in all respects out of her control. "We don´t know how it happened, but my soldiers have discovered a corpse as being the one of Louise Valliere. It was likely spread by her, judging for the declarations how the man she summoned and what happened after that. We..."
"Just a moment, please. I have to say than that hypothesis is true. I know, because I am that man." Ryan said. Henrietta´s eyes narrowed. "But you already guessed as much, didn´t you? That is the only possible reason for you to believe what I told you in my letters."
"That´s true, but... is still kind of a surprise. Sorry."
"Its fine. Anyway, please continue."
"We contained it as best as we would, at we followed the orders of the church and killed the few remaining... survivors."
"You are so hesitant to say that, but you shouldn´t. I tell you something good, so listen. Those who Tristanian soldiers killed because of their orders were definitively human. And it was a useless move."
"Explain, please." Her eyes narrowed.
"The darksign, the mark of the curse, will spread and soon the whole of Halkagenia will be engulfed. There is nothing we can do to stop that, so killed them was useless and immoral. When they die enough times, Undead will lose themselves and go Hollow, a mad beast just seeking for prey, that much is true, but until them they are normal humans like you or anybody else. And Hollows can easily be taken care off, in this land."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean what happened to the Valliere Girl. She definitively was brought back to the death-nobody can deny that- and I fully mean the words I said at that field. In my land, that those branded with the darksign couldn´t never find rest a fact of life. Yet, Louise was like any other corpse when you found her and has not moved or anything. That's because she lost grip on herself, and went Hollow. Unlike where I come from, here Hollow´s will not come back once killed."
"So, I am assuming you will tell me the ways to notice that turning process and suggest that we dealt with Hollows as soon as they turn and not do anything else about it?"
"Is not that I want you not to do anything else about it, is just that there is nothing else you can do, but yes, that´s the idea." Henrietta signed.
"The church is not going to like this."
"It doesn´t matter if the church likes it or not. If this does´t happen, Halkagenia as you know it will go down the drain. Like what happened to Lordran." Ryan frowned, recalling those hellish weeks, that constant crushing feeling of being truly alone and having to face monstrosities beyond imagination with a thin shield and a sword and some magic later on, the hell were he had be reborn. "The rulers gathered all Undead in a massive prison, to hold them inside from all eternity in an effort to contain the curse. Many Undead escaped the Asylum, but by the time they did the Undead curse had already infected all we knew. There is nothing anyone can do. Not even your Founder Brimir could do anything about it, because the curse is a part of life itself."
"True. Cardinal, bring the treaty." She said. The old man took off a parchment from his pocket, gave it to her and then she spread in on the table, facing towards him so he could read it. Ryan grabbed it, and did so. He had ordered his more knowledgeable soldiers to instruct him about the legalities since, even though passing in to the appropriate person could have be fine, he didn´t want to seem incompetent. It was a standard and fair document, not asking for anything untoward just because they could. Good. Even if they had done so, it wouldn´t really matter-he would have just put Henrietta under his control-but it was good to know he was not getting an ally that hated him to the extend of risking war breaking out between their two kingdoms. It would have made things much more complicated. In took him more that ten minutes to finish reading all the pages. One of his soldiers gave him a plume, and he signed each page without hurrying. He gave it back to Henrietta, and she signed it too.
"That´s it?" He asked.
"Yes, that´s it."
"Well, then." Ryan said, and stood up from his seat. "Excuse me."
"Wait." He stopped. "Can we ask for the help of you and your men?"
"What is it?" The better question would be why she hadn´t mentioned whatever it was on their correspondence, if it was so damn important and urgent as to ask for his help, but it was not an appropriate one. Their relationship was tenuous enough already.
"Since a few days ago, we have noticed a substantial raise on the water levels of the village of Ragdorian, to the point of flooding. However, is not any mundane problem. The only possible cause is the Water Spirit of the Ragdorian lake, and so, we may need backup. We are hopeful for a peaceful negotiation but things could always fall apart... or the spirit could refuse to negotiate."
"Very well. We will go with whatever group you send there. When are we going?"
"Right now. They should be at the stables now, getting horses, but if they aren´r, just ask our soldiers where Alexander De Aiver, the captain in command of the expedition, is. Tell them, if they get problematic, that is my order." Ryan nodded. He shook hands with her once more, and walked away. His soldiers followed him.
They were, indeed, at the stables. He asked for Alexander, told that him and his men were going with them for the request of his princess. His men acquired horses on their own and, to his embarrassment, he had to ride with one of them. He couldn´t help it; there hadn´t be time to learn how to ride a horse in just a few weeks. At least, not well enough. Well, it didn't really matter. They would surely think of him as one more entitled noble who wouldn´t even be bothered to ride a horse, not that he didn´t even knew how to do it.
The ride took little more that an hour. The horses all stopped in unison in the top of a step hill, and when he looked down he saw water, looks of water and broken tress and all sorts of random junk floating in it along with some houses, which along the rooftops could be seen. The entire village was flooded. Either the water had grown at an incomprehensibly fast rate during those few days, or the Tristanian people were irresponsible assholes. He couldn´t honestly say which one was worse. They dismounted, and approached the water.
Right before their eyes, the water started to churn and then swiftly swelled up and began taking a shape. His hand went to his sword and unsheathed it in surprise. In a few moments, a great big water clone of himself, but without armor or any kind of cloth. What the fuck was that, seriously? What the fuck? No, better question. Why him, of all of the people here? Alexander stepped up, and bowed before the Water Spirit.
"Water Spirit." He said. "I am Alexander De Aiver, user of water, I need to ask you something. Why have you risen the water levels, after so long and what can we do to appease you?"
"A person stole something from me." It said. "My most important possession, about thirty moths before the moon´s crossing."
"Is this revenge, then?"
"No. We don´t have such a concept. I simply wish for my treasure back and so, I will flood the land. No matter how much it takes, even if it must sink all this world, I will regain what have I lost."
"We can help you. What was stolen? And who did it?"
"Is called the Ring Of Andvari. However, there is no need to search from it. " It looked straight at him. Shit. The Tristanian soldier all turned towards him, worry and distrust on their faces. "This man has it."
The Tristanian soldiers murmured, shocked, but not a single one of them made a move. His soldiers drew closer to him, without him needing to say anything.
"You are Cromwell?" It asked him.
"No. I am the one who killed him."
"Give it back to me." This was really bad. Not giving the ring back would constitute a breach of the peace treaty and, even if it didn´t, it would surely cause all cooperation between them to become impossible. A false peace was the best he could hope for, in that case. While he had all the odds on his side, going to war against Tristania was far for an ideal position. On the other hand, he couldn´t afford to give it, it was what held his power base together, so there really was not choice.
"I refuse." Ryan said. Its back arched, and it threw his head back and screamed, causing the water to churn as if in the middle of a current. He stepped back swiftly, sword held high and raised his shield. A blast of concentrated water hit it, bending, twisting, breaking it. Out of balance, he was sent flying back and was forced to stop when he hit a tree with spine-breaking force. The sword went tumbling out of his grip and rolled down into the depths of the waters of that spirit, fully out of his reach. He dragged himself to his feet, took a step forward and had to grab to a tree to keep his balance.
The Water Spirit was lashing out of at the rest, sending solid blasts of water flying everywhere and forcing them to retreat. Some fell down, their weapons tumbling to the ground and were forced to abandon them to live. It adsorbed them into its water, or just broke them in half with stray water blasts. Ryan took a step forward, forcing himself to keep steady.
"You have to disappear." He uttered on loud, without even realizing and, with a soft pop, his hands bursts into flames.
Author´s Notes.
Do you know I self published a short story on Amazon? Well, now you do. Its free until the twenty eight day of this month, and free for three months to Kindle Unlimited and Amazon Prime members, so you don´t have a reason to not check it out. The link to it is in my profile.
Also, sorry for the wait.
Exams ate my life.
