Chapter 20: Hope

  “Did you hear that?” Grizzel asked as he finished unpacking. He had managed to make a makeshift sofa out of his small pillow and the thin blanket he had stashed in his backpack. Han, too, had made a place to sleep on the ground out of a loose blanket and pillow.

  Han held still, listening for any noise. But all he could hear was the creaking of the old wood and the occasional cough from the patrons below.

  “Uh, no?” Han said as he laid down in his blanket. “You’re probably just hearing things again.”

  Grizzel squinted. “No, I swear I heard something.” The apostle dropped his bag. Stepping out the doorway, he once more heard a raised voice. A draconian voice.

  “Taenith is arguing with someone I think,” Grizzel said.

  Han sighed, “And?”

  Grizzel bit his tongue. For some reason, he felt an itch in his finger. An itch that beckoned for him to draw the mace at his side. The same itch he felt before.

  “I just have a feeling…” his words trailed off. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  Han raised a brow. “Alright. See ya I guess,” he said.

  Grizzel made his way down the steps and out of the inn. Soon, he was met with the night, where he saw only the occasional lantern lighting the plaza near the dry fountain. It was a sad town. And for some reason, he felt guilty for its state, as if the squalor its people faced was somehow his fault.

  “Bless these souls,” Grizzel muttered. To whom the prayer was aimed, he did not know. The one who gave him the mace, maybe? It didn’t matter. Just as long as someone somewhere heard.

  As he stepped out onto the street, he noticed a small crowd gathered around the plaza. Even a couple guards stood by, weapons drawn. He prayed Taenith hadn’t gotten in trouble… again, and decided to approach the group. He recognized one of the guards from earlier. Except this time she had a look of shock on her face. Sweat had curled down her cheeks and terror had widened her eyes. The same could be said for the villagers too.

  “What’s going on here?” Grizzel asked. At first no one responded, as their focus was on something…or rather, nothing. They were all staring at a blank space in the dirt.

  “Who-” the guard began, sizing up the stranger. Grizzel’s shining apostilian mail made her tired eyes flicker with hope. “Gods be praised,” she breathed. Stress lifted off her shoulders. “One of the market tents vanished.”

  “The devil kidnapped Toben!” one of the citizens, a young brown-haired, freckle-faced woman snapped at the guard.

  The guard raised her hand towards the woman and to the others around her. “Please, return to your homes. We don’t know what’s happened to Mr. Toben,” she said, gesturing to Grizzel. “But this apostle is going to help.”

  Grizzel blinked a couple times. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. But he put on a confident smile anyway. “Time to do your job, Griz,” he thought as he drew his mace and extended his arms outward.

  “Right, no need to worry everyone! I’ll have this handled in no time,” he grinned, looking to the empty space in the plaza. It looked like there indeed had been a fairly large tent there at one point, but all that remained was an outline in the ground. That, and a few footprints leading in from where the entrance would have been. Unless there was another draconian in the town, they were clearly Taenith’s. Out of curiosity, he swiped a free hand in the air, hitting nothing. It was as if it had vanished from the world completely.

  “So, who is this Mr. Toben?” Grizzel asked. “Has he lived here for long?”

  The guard shook her head. “Not long. He brought us water when he showed up last night. That’s all I know. There’s not many who live in these parts, and few who bring supplies, so names are remembered easily. Why do you ask?”

  Grizzel clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth before turning to the woman. “Well miss…”

  “My name is Reba,” she said.

  “Well, Reba,” Grizzel continued. In all his years in the academy he’d heard of spells that could kill, banish, or trap. He’d seen a few in action too. He may not have learned much about the Rift, what it was, and how it could be used, but for the first time in a long while, he actually recognized what was happening.

  “A shade spell,” he muttered. Worry and excitement bubbled inside him as he simultaneously knew what to do, but understood who had cast it.

  “Sir?” Reba asked.

  A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Grizzel’s face as he clenched the hilt of his mace and raised it towards the empty space. To no surprise, it began glowing a bright white the closer it got to where the tent would have been.

  “I don’t think your Toben was just an old man,” he faced her. His tone shifted from excitable to demanding. “You should get these people out of here. Now.”

  “Why? What’s happening?” she asked. The civilians behind them looked to each other, hoping someone else had an answer.

  Sparks of lightning shot out of the orbed end of his mace, enveloping the space before him and the crowd. Soon, the outlines of the large tent could be seen. Inside of it was a massive cloud of shadow. The crowd looked with wide eyes and gasps of horror as they watched the lightshow of chaos unfold.

  “Demons! Get out of here!” Grizzel snapped.

  Hearing the fowl word was enough to send the people screaming and running for their hovel homes. Reba hesitated briefly, unsure of what to do. She had acted stoic and strong in every situation before this. But in the face of a demon? She was practically paralyzed. Her hand stiffened against the hilt of her blunt blade as she continued to gaze upon the apostle in his fight against the spell roaring and screeching back at him. And as its darkness waned, she began to see just who the apostle was warning them from. Two massive figures came into view. One of which was strangling the draconian she recognized from earlier.

  “You! Get the others I came with!” he shouted.

  Reba hesitated for a moment, her heart shrieking at the sight of creatures.

  “Reba!” Grizzel yelled.

  The guard’s gaze strained from the clash of demons, and towards the glimmering apostle. A bead of sweat fell down her trembling face, and she nodded. “R-right away!” she managed to utter before forcing her paralyzed limbs to run for the inn.

  ---

  Uzdo looked up from Taenith to realize the spell was being broken. The shadows he had expertly coiled around the old man’s tent were becoming undone. All by a pearly white apostle.

  “Olm never mentioned an apostle. No matter,” Uzdo grumbled as he summoned a small ball of flame in his meaty hand. “Hurry up with that. It looks like we’ll need to take the mace by force.”

  Olm sneered, ignoring his brother. He dug his nails further into the scaled neck of the draconian. “You’ll die good, mortal. Much slower than a fleshy human.” He licked his cracked lips.

  “He’s out. Quit playing!” Uzdo spat. The flame in his hand grew to about the size of a small throwing ball.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Olm threw his head back with a hiss. “You do not command me, pig! I will have my reve-” his voice trailed off.

  A burning sensation surged through his neck.

  “Olm!” Uzdo squealed. An arrow had struck through the side of the sheoldrite’s throat.

  “Dam-mit,” Olm wheezed and clenched the arrow. Blood guzzled from his mouth as he stumbled backwards off Taenith.

  “Vanador,” Uzdo curled his snout as he looked to the two new figures. One of them was the archer.

  By now, the sphere of darkness had completely evaporated. The tent, or what remained of it, was laid open for all to see. The charade Uzdo had carefully crafted had been ruined by the apostle and Olm’s impatience. He cursed himself for not seeing ahead. After hundreds of years of being forced into Icarus’ service, he should have been used to his kin’s bloodlust. Uzdo raised his hand. The smoldering ball of fire had grown to the size of a small boulder above him, and was expanding evermore. Even if his initial plan had failed, there was always the second option. Threatening the town should suffice. Not even a Vanador would be so reckless as to gamble that bluff.

  “Return the mace, or the town burns,” Uzdo growled, sizing up the three. The apostle would be an issue, especially since his mace may have been enchanted to kill Chaotic souls. The bowman, too, for his aim. However, his attention was particularly fixated on Tex. He knew enough of her abilities to recognize the threat she posed. Enough of his kind had been slain and banished back to Sheol because of her and her ilk, enough so that their souls were irreparably damaged, entirely unable to return to the mortal plane as a result.

  “Bro-ther,” Olm croaked.

  Uzdo’s attention dashed to his brother, who was beginning to drown in a pool of blood.

  “Or, you could take what’s left of your brother and leave. He’ll bleed out soon enough. When that happens, who knows if he’ll be able to manifest again,” Tex replied, her tone laced with a taunting amusement.

  Uzdo’s features twitched. He looked back to the woman, who had drawn the mace. The ghoulish weapon’s green glow shot terror into his veins. Even from this distance, he could feel its malicious and terrible aura, causing him to stumble backwards and over the rubble of the desk and the religious stones.

  “Do not bother returning if you fail,” Icarus’ words buzzed in his mind.

  Uzdo bared his fangs. “You do not understand, mortal. This is bigger than the both of us. Your refusal to return the weapon spells death for all of us. One flick of my wrist and dozens die. And for what? To protect the gods?”

  Tex tilted her head. “Can’t say I’ve encountered a sheoldrite with a mouth before. Or are you just afraid of getting your ass beat like your brother?” she asked.

  Uzdo grunted, “Do not mock me, knight.” The ball of fire extended. Its magical heat pulsated outward, eating at the remainder of the plaza like a corrosive rust. Even the homes furthest away sparked like kindling.

  Despite her taunting, Tex knew the situation was grim. Without Sham, there was no way they could counter the blast unless they got Uzdo to recall it. And if it dropped, Taenith and everyone else would certainly die.

  “Any ideas?” Han asked.

  “Working on it,” Tex muttered. The steel of her armor steamed beneath the meteor spell. Grizzel managed a minor protection spell to protect them from the worst of its heat, but it wouldn’t stand for long.

  “Well?” Uzdo asked. “What will it be? The mace, or your friend and the rest of this village?”

  Grizzel looked at the demon Han shot. It was limpless and showed no signs of moving. “I think it’s just him now you guys.”

  “Then he really won’t stop unless we give it to him,” Han replied.

  Tex closed her eyes for a moment to think.

  “Tex?” Han asked.

  “Fuck it,” she breathed, winding up the mace for a throw. “It's yours,” she shouted to Uzdo.

  “Wait!” Grizzel interjected, throwing his arm in front of her.

  Tex shot him a glare. “What are you doing?! You could have died if this touched you!” she said.

  “What am I doing? What are you doing?! If he gets that thing, Icarus will be at full power again, right?”

  “I grow impatient, mortals!” Uzdo shouted.

  Tex bit her lip, trying to contain herself. “Grizzel, that blast will kill us all. So unless you or Han have a better plan, this is what’s going to happen.”

  Grizzel gulped. He didn’t want to stand up to her, especially when she was aiming daggers at him. But something about handing a weapon of mass destruction over to a genocidal devil lord didn’t settle well with him. Even if he was in space jail.

  Then he thought of Taenith.

  “How good is your aim?” Grizzel asked Han.

  Han raised a brow. “Good enough to kill a demon I suppose. Why?”

  “Well, Taenith seems to be the only one who can actually use that thing. What if we just toss it over to the pig guy, Han shoots an arrow at him, then Taenith grabs the thing and whacks him in the face? Problem solved, right?”

  “Uh, is Taenith even awake?” Han asked, glancing at the fallen draconian. They had moved back a significant distance, so it was too hard to tell if he was even breathing.

  “As…interesting as that plan is. There’s no guarantee he would know how to counter the spell,” Tex said. “And if this fails, we’ll have just pissed it off.”

  “Enough talk, Vanador!” Uzdo bellowed a final time. This seemed to break the three’s conversation and finally drew their attention to him. With a sickly, spittly smile, Uzdo extended his palm and sent the meteor into the sky. Darkness entirely seeped away from the night as the artificial sun replaced the full moon, briefly cursing the countryside into a hellish day. He hesitated for a moment before clenching his fists, causing its molten core to burst into a rainfall of plasmatic fire.

  “Shit,” Tex said. “Taenith!”

  No response.

  “Grizzel, you’re with me!” she ordered. The apostle quickly nodded before following after Tex. Both raised their weapons and charged Uzdo, who reacted by summoning a large, spiked obsidian hammer.

  ---

  Fear penetrated Uzdo’s heart at the thought of facing the infamous knight of the Algadrian Order. However, his terror of Icarus was far greater. And the meteor spell would be his only chance to retrieve the mace and avoid his and his brother’s eternal suffering. He didn’t intend to kill the people of the town, and he hoped its effects would be minimal. But what other choice did he have? Without the spell, he would surely lose. His soul would be sent to Sheol and Icarus would shred him to pieces. At least this way, Tex and her allies would be forced to come to an ultimatum. And he would have a chance to live. Uzdo watched as his fire fell upon the town in front of him. Humans flocked from the descending hellfire in droves as roaring hailfire screamed into the streets, burning and smashing through building windows and roofs as easily as if they were made of straw. He winced at the destruction. But he had no time to dwell on its effects. This was life or death.

  Raising his hammer, Uzdo swatted down at Tex, causing her to dodge and recoil backwards. This left enough time for Grizzel to take a shot at the sheoldrite’s side. When the mace struck his flesh, Uzdo expected an eruption as his soul was ripped back to Sheol. However, when it only stung, he let out a nervous laugh of relief.

  “Your magic is weak, boy,” he snorted before kicking him. Grizzel gasped as air left his lungs.

  Uzdo sneered at the apostle before swatting his hammer back towards Tex, nearly catching her in the leg.

  Once she was out of the way, Han released an arrow that quickly slammed into Uzdo’s chest. Squealing, the sheoldrite staggered backwards and cursed under his breath, wishing he had his brother’s reflection spell at the moment.

  “It didn’t have to be this way!” Uzdo stomped a hoof into the ground, causing the dirt around him to swell up and burst into small flames. Grizzel shrieked as a plume of fire erupted from beneath him. He could feel the hairs on his face singe off as he doubled backwards.

  Han aimed for Uzdo’s head. Before he could release, however, Uzdo summoned a small spear in his free hand and thrust it towards the bowman.

  “Get out of my way!” the sheoldrite spat.

  Han’s eyes shot open as he dodged the desperate attack. However, he only managed to send himself into a falling piece of the meteor spell. Molten rock slammed into his shoulder. A loud crack followed by an intense burning sensation quickly ran down the rest of his arm as he fell to the ground.

  “Han!” Grizzel shouted before going in for another attack. Uzdo had no time to prepare as the mace slammed into his face, breaking one of his tusks. And, unlike the last blow, this strike left a blistering burn that crawled over Uzdo’s features.

  “Ah!” Uzdo cringed in pain, dropping his hammer before grabbing at his face. “Wha- thz hells didju to me?!” he lisped. His flesh began to bubble and break on the right side of his face. Very quickly, his right eye switched off and he could only see a haze through his left.

  Grizzel’s mace glowed even brighter as he unleashed another attack aimed at the sheoldrite’s skull. Reflexively, Uzdo held up a hand and blocked the blow, only to cry as the impact shattered his bones. Grizzel’s magic laced him with more burns that crept from his battered hand towards his wrist and the rest of his arm. Tex didn’t even get a chance to join in as Grizzel continued pounding at the sheoldrite with a flurry of strikes, each one heavier and more determined than the last. Only a day ago, he couldn’t even douse a simple plague spell. But now, he was taking on a sheoldrite…and winning.

  Taking the brief opportunity, Tex ran up to where Taenith was laying and crouched beside him. Setting down the mace, she ran her hand over his neck to find some sort of pulse. To no avail.

  “Taenith, I need you right now, dammit,” she swore as she grabbed one of his hands. She took a deep breath. “Please let this fucking work,” she muttered before putting the hilt of the mace into his grasp.

  Nothing happened.

  “Taenith?”

  …

  …

  “Taenith?”