C h a p t e r 7 :
O l d G o d s
The power of the Paragon and Protector stretched from as far as we could comprehend history, but even their abilities are not the end of all such things. The void and the empyrean are considered to be the great realms of power from which all creation originated. Their powers are vast, incomprehensible, and forever out of the reach of mere mortals... or so we think.
-Anonymous scholar, The Origins of All
“Champion Rahvan...” Kandro said, shaking hands with their new arrival as his worries faded away. “Ponies, this is Champion Rahvan. He is the leader of the warrior-monks that live at Tandreat, and the Champion of the Sun for the temple that resides within.”
“Champion of the Sun?” Dash asked. “So you’re... like Celestia’s champion or something?”
Rahvan laughed, the sound echoing through his helmet as the sight of himself against the Pillars was a stark contrast: whereas the Pillars wore a mix of both garb and armor, Rahvan himself was steeled from head to toe in full plate armor. “In a sense, yes. While the first of my line was personally named by Celestia herself, we have had to enact our own succession guidelines following her return to Equestria.”
“And that magic...” Rarity said. “I’ve never seen anything like it. What is it?”
“Magic of the sun, of course,” came the reply. He opened his palm skyward and held it before him, and a small orange orb of light materialized above it, humming alongside the sound of the desert wind. “It is a... peculiar kind of magic, and usage of it was forbidden until very recently.”
“Very interesting,” Artim said, drawing himself closer to observe the orb. “I’ve never heard of solar magic before. How does it work?”
“Unfortunately, even I cannot answer that question. The elder monks at the temple may be able to explain more, but the essence of the matter is that we were only simply taught how to use it, but not why it works the way that it does. Nonetheless, it is an extremely potent form of magic, only able to be mastered by a select few.”
“Much like magic nowadays.” Artim withdrew again, satisfied with his examination of the orb as Rahvan snuffed it out. “Is there lunar magic, as well?”
Rahvan nodded. “Indeed. Though I have been instructed to bring you all back to Tandreat as soon as possible. Creatures not of our world are prowling through the longest stretches of the desert ahead, and we wish to avoid having you all fight your way through to our city.”
“All of us?” Reugas asked. “You mean you can even teleport the sandrunners?”
“Yes,” Rahvan replied, a spiral of solar magic gathering at his feet as he prepared to channel his spell. “It shouldn’t be too hard to bring all of us back.”
“Bloody fantastic,” he said, chuckling and jabbing his flask in the arcanist’s direction. “How’s that, Artim? We had a way to teleport all along!”
“So this means that we’re going to jump straight to the City of Hope, then?” Kandro asked him. Rahvan’s helmet raised towards the prince, and nodded. “Great... that saves us a lot of trouble. We’ve been traveling over the course of the full day. We were at Fort Kahir when we began our trip.”
“A long way from your origin,” Rahvan said. “Fear not, we have proper lodgings and food waiting for you at Tandreat. The rest of the city is on alert and fortified for attack, so the Temple of Dawn will be our destination. Would someone kindly ensure that Twilight Sparkle is safe before we teleport? I expect minor turbulence, but one can never be sure.”
Dash and Applejack checked up on the sleeping unicorn, with the cowfilly taking the burden of carrying Twilight upon herself. With a nod to Kandro, she joined the closing group as they began to gather around Rahvan. Reugas guided the sandrunners, taking up position at the rear of the group as the energy from Rahvan’s form began to spread.
“Whoa... uh, hehe... this is new,” Dash said. “Um... I hope this is safe...”
“Of course it is, Dashie!” Pinkie Pie said. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t offer in the first place! And I really hope that they have some prairie berry fruit tarts at this City of Hope!”
“Correct on both counts,” Rahvan said. With finality, the flash exploded outwards from the ground and surrounded them all, turning their vision into a wall of blinding light before they felt the warmth of the sun’s light embrace them.
The next view to greet their sights was the sight of stone walls surrounding them, with sconces encompassing the room’s entire length. Marbled floors beneath them bore the familiar symbol of Celestia’s sun cutie mark, as illumination from a mysterious bright light above them bore down on it like the cosmic body’s endless gaze upon a yawning desert.
“Welcome to the Temple of Dawn,” Rahvan said, walking ahead of them and gesturing to the open hall outside. Four soldiers clad in armor like his marched inside and took up guard positions around them. “I am sure you would all like to rest, but the elders would like to speak to you first.”
“Very well then,” Kandro said. “Lead the way.”
“Of course. I will lead you to them.” Rahvan paused a moment and several more people entered, wearing the red robes of the monastic order of the temple with their heads bowed low in respect. They took the sandrunners off of Reugas’ hands and exited the room with the mounts eagerly growling in anticipation of their coming meals. “Shall we?”
Rahvan led them out and into the cavernous hall, ceiling arched high above as more sources of the imitation of the sun’s light shined down and gave attention to the adornments that sat on both sides: statues of champions past, decorative armor sets in design of the ancients wielding weapons of exotic make, and great sculptures depicting Celestia of the forgotten ages. Even Kandro, as great as his status might have been, stood in wonder within the deepest confines of the Temple of Dawn, normally off-limits to all members of the public.
“Wow...” Applejack said, eyes continuously glued upon a battle-ready Celestia, rearing into the air as she trotted past it. “I’ve never seen Princess Celestia like this... it’s amazin’...”
“The Temple of Dawn holds many tributes to our great goddess,” Rahvan said. “It is here that we revere the Paragon, the sun, and its ever-present gift of life that was restored to us in a time of darkness. Lherren surely has more information than I can recall on this matter, but it pleases me to say that we already have an arcanist among us.”
“This solar magic...” Artim said. “...what is it? Why has no one from Lherren ever told us that such a thing existed? Such a thing holds the possibility of revitalizing our land—”
“That was why we did not see fit to grant it upon you, keeper,” Rahvan said quietly. “As great as the sun’s role in nature is at giving life, for us, it is not an end-all solution. In fact, just quite the opposite: to harness solar magic, magic wielded by beings greater than ourselves, is foolish and dangerous. We merely follow the tenet that has been laid out before us: to watch over all life as the sun does, and ensure its continued prosperity.”
“Just what is the danger in wielding solar magic?” Kandro asked.
“Everything.” Rahvan again willed the small orb of sunlight into existence, but instead of having it sitting benignly in his hands, he shot it forth and watched it slam into the runed doors ahead of their approach. The inscriptions all glowed for but a moment before crunching open. “In the wrong hands, wielding the power of the sun itself is dangerous, far too dangerous to simply allow any eager neophyte dip into our pool of knowledge.”
“And just how did you all end up with such a skill?” Rarity asked, trotting up on Rahvan’s other side, quill and paper at the ready. “Oh, don’t mind me, darling, I’m simply taking notes for my sleeping friend. I’m sure she’d be quite irritated if she missed out upon such an important piece of information in her absence.”
“Celestia graced us with this gift: a powerful link between those chosen and able to wield it, and the energy from which she drew her abilities as a being of the sun. The first champion became the head of what would soon become our order, and passed down his learnings to those he deemed worthy enough to learn it. This decision was made in secret, and has been preserved by every generation who has dwelled within the City of Hope since then.”
“Amazing... but why reveal yourselves now?” Kandro asked. “You could have simply sought us out with an armed escort and sandrunners.”
“It was prophesied that we would one day need to reveal ourselves since our order was founded. We knew, like all imperials, that the Trickster would someday return, and that when that day arrived, we would need to use this power of the sun to defend our city from attack. By extension, that granted us the permission to ensure your safe arrival here in Tandreat.”
“Prophecy?” Sehyia piped in from behind them. “What sort of prophecy?”
“An ancient one, blade dancer,” Rahvan said, taking a left and leading them down a stretching hall that led to a pair of guarded double doors bearing the same runic inscription that matched the one they’d passed through earlier. “The First was pragmatic, and knew this day was coming.”
“The First planned all of this?” Reugas said disbelievingly. “Just how much foresight did he have, to see this far into the future?”
“As it appears, a lot. The sun hides many secrets.”
“What of the moon?” Sehyia interjected again. “Does the Protector have a stake in any of this?”
“I am afraid not. The Protector was more reserved than the Paragon when it came to her magic, and so chose to not have any followers. The Temple of Dusk sitting upon the surface, beyond the halls of this lower sanctum, shares a space next to its sister temple, but grants none of the moon’s hallowed power upon those who tend it.”
The guards at the door stopped them before the wayward group could enter, crossing spears before the doorway as they eyed Rahvan carefully. When the champion simply raised a hand to let them pass, Rahvan stepped ahead of his charges. His hand glowed with sunlight again as he touched the door, and the deep rumbling of the intricate locks within the ancient door spoke of mastercrafted tinkering no longer able to be replicated.
Empty darkness within greeted them as the doors opened, and Rahvan stepped aside to let them in. “While I believe that the elders’ message is intended for Prince Kandro, it would most likely be more beneficial if all of you were to listen. Go on now. I would stay with you, but the defense of Tandreat requires that I be elsewhere.” He saluted afterwards and marched past them, motioning for the quartet of soldiers escorting them to join him, leaving their group alone to enter the chamber.
As soon as Kandro stepped a single foot into the room, a bright light was cast upon them, and his guard was raised as he felt his hand grasp his sword grip. But the concern was unfounded, as the light drifted slowly to the center of the room, as if beckoning them to move forward.
“This place is a little bit too dark for my liking...” Reugas whispered.
“Is there... something in here?” Fluttershy meekly said. Dash hugged her close as they proceeded in slowly. Low murmurs and secretive whispers danced around their ears as the doors behind them thudded shut. The column of light produced a single smaller column that branched off towards the far end of the room where a high council table sat. But the table was empty, and the column stopped just short of it, revealing a single monk, whose red robes of the order were laced with golden iconographies: sun, moon, stars, and swords.
The waiting elder tilted his head higher, but only slightly. The dim motes of light reflecting off of his eyes underneath his hood, but spoke everything to Kandro when they met his. “Greetings, Prince Kandro and company, and a warm welcome to you all, ponies. We in the City of Hope have been expecting you. Please, step forth into the column. There is no need to be afraid of the sun’s warmth.”
“Who are you?” Kandro asked, doing as he was asked as the others followed suit. The entire chamber was barren, desert stone walls untouched and undecorated with only the high-raised table and the illumination above them the only things to grace the room with a pleasing sight. “And what do you wish to tell us?”
“I am Elder Jerrovahn,” he said, looking at each of them as he introduced himself. None of them noticed as his gaze lingered for only but a moment longer on Kandro’s sword. “...but that is insignificant compared to what I have to offer you. Surely, Champion Rahvan must have told you of the prophecy, yes?”
“He has mentioned it, yes,” Kandro confirmed, looking at each of them. “But what is this prophecy? Why have I never heard of it until now?”
“It was mandated that we were not allowed to tell anyone beyond the most trusted of the order, my liege,” Jerrovahn said, stepping forward to get a better look at Kandro. Yet, oddly enough, still referred to Kandro with his royal title despite his greater experience, and clearly being his elder. “If others outside of these walls knew of this prophecy, then there would have been a great chance that our plans, and that of the First’s would have been disrupted.”
“Just what exactly were these plans?” he asked. “The First was thought to have died at the Battle of Fortress Tyehl. You mean that he planned beyond that?”
“Indeed, my prince,” he confirmed. He thoughtfully ran a slow hand through his beard, chuckling at Kandro’s question. “Surely, you wouldn’t have expected such a powerful ruler as the First to launch himself into a suicide battle without a plan to ensure his success in the long run?”
“Then what did he do? Just what is his plan?”
“Simple, my lord,” Jerrovahn continued. “Though it was not ready at the time, the original plan called for a weapon capable of destroying the Trickster, once and for all. However, the battle was needed in order to lay the first stepping stone towards its completion, and that was to seal the Trickster away long enough for our people to perfect it.”
“A weapon? What is this weapon?” Kandro asked. Nowhere had he ever read that such a weapon existed, and the closest ‘weapon’ that held anywhere near such relevance and magical power that he could remember was the First’s imperial crown.
“How befitting that the weapon we require already sits in our presence,” Jerrovahn amusedly said, gesturing towards the weapon sitting on Kandro’s belt. When Kandro looked down at his sword grip, he looked back to Jerrovahn and tilted his head questioningly at him. “That was why we called you here, Prince Kandro. Please, show me your blade.”
“This sword?” Kandro unsheathed the martialsword, holding it flat against his hand as he examined it: a common martialsword, plain in its appearance with a polished blade and leather-wrapped grip. The only notable piece on the sword was its hilt, which was inscribed with a winding gold flourish. “This sword was passed down to me, but I’ve never thought much of it...”
“Then it would behoove you to know that the First was a wielder of the martialsword,” he said, pointing a finger at the weapon. “And that the sword you hold in your hands is his.”
“But... how? That a blade has existed for so long means that...” he said, voice fading away as he held the blade high into the air against the light. “It was repaired...”
“Indeed,” Jerrovahn said, nodding as Kandro adeptly twirled his sword around in his hand. “In fact, I was the one in charge of restoring the blade to its quality, like my predecessors before me. To ensure that the weapon would still be ready when the time for its use would arrive.”
“But... again, how?” Kandro repeated. “This is a simple blade. I admit, it can kill demons, but what use does it have for the First? If the true weapon was his sword, what was missing back then that he couldn’t use it?”
“Magic,” he simply said.
“The Trickster is, undoubtedly, ancient and powerful,” Jerrovahn continued. “At the time, the First and his council, however talented they were, did not possess the magical levels capable of destroying the Trickster. And after meeting and speaking with the Paragon and Protector, neither could they. So a plan was hatched that would allow the weapon to gain access to an energy source strong enough to stand against chaotic energies.”
“All to kill the Trickster? I thought he was only able to seal away the Trickster because they didn’t have enough energy to kill him,” Artim noted.
“They had energy to spare, keeper of Lherren.” Jerrovahn paced around to him, wagging his finger at him. “But that reveals why the spell is impossible to replicate: it was an extremely risky gamble, merging the invocation of two extremely powerful spells into a single act: a spell to seal away the Trickster, and the other, to channel the life force of all soldiers and mages present at Fortress Tyehl into the empyrean.”
“The realm of the harmonic empyrean? They achieved immortality?” Reugas said. “Impossible.”
“Very possible, ranger. I’d suggest you kindly keep your reservations about these sorts of matters with an open mind until you’ve witnessed them yourself,” Jerrovahn replied tersely. “Forcing their souls into the empyrean was the only way the gateway to such a powerful energy source could be accessed.”
Kandro held back a response as his companions conversed with each other behind him, Jerrovahn offering comments whenever he could. The empyrean was an abstract concept, barely touched off upon by scholars and researchers as a mysterious realm that held harmonic energies capable of countering the chaos and the void from which the Trickster drew his power, but was had long since been debunked and considered fake. Yet here, not only was it revealed that such a realm actually existed, but it was also used by the First...
“Then the plan was to infuse the sword with the empyrean’s energies, then?” Kandro said.
“Yes, that was—and still is—indeed the plan, but there was... something else... that we should see fit to tell you.” With a nod, the clink of stone against the marble floor broadcasted an opening, and a small monolith rose out of the ground in front of Kandro. A mold for a sword sat on top of it, matched perfectly to his martialsword’s design. “You are required to deliver the empyrean-forged blade to the First.”
“And what happens afterwards?” Kandro asked. “And does this mean that the First still lives?”
Jerrovahn crossed his hands and shrugged. “Still lives? Certainly. He has been watching the growth of our Empire for a very long time. All the rumors you have heard about the Lost Expedition? Only one is true, and I believe that at this point, you know which truth that is.”
“They found the tomb...” he whispered. So their efforts had not been in vain after all.
“Correct. We... do not know in full what has happened to them, but it would be wise to assume that the First most likely had them... killed.”
Kandro dumbfoundedly shook his head. “What?! Why?” he asked.
“It is simply the nature of his being, Prince Kandro.” Jerrovahn sighed, ostensibly having explained this more than once. “You must realize that at the time of the spell’s completion, the First, quite literally, watched everyone around him die. His soul was filled with vengeful thoughts, and so that aspect of himself was what he took with him into the empyrean.”
“Doesn’t the harmony of the empyrean account for this, though?” Sehyia asked. “Surely it could not have let him sustain his maddened thoughts for too long?”
“An interesting question, Pillar Sehyia.” The coming response was delayed as Jerrovahn muttered to himself, uttering quiet words and recalling as many shards of information he could. Eventually, he collected himself and answered, “Unfortunately... I do not honestly know. The last we heard from the First was when he contacted us several decades ago notifying us of a change in plans... since then, he has been silent. We cannot tell if his hostility still stands, but it would be fair to assume that the Lost Expedition may have lived up to its namesake, and that you might suffer the same fate.”
“So what you’re saying is that not only is the First actually alive, he’s royally pissed off?” Confirming nods from the elders again made Reugas scoff. “Well, that’s just dandy. So what happens when we deliver this sword to him?”
“You may either live or die. The jurisdiction lies with the First.”
He threw up his arms and paced around in a circle. “So you’re saying that our quest to save the Empire may just as well end up getting us killed? I’m not sure I really like the thought of that. I really like being alive, you know, good for the body and all that.”
Tehin put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his roundabouts. “Enough, Reugas. At this point, it is a risk we will have to take. I’d rather at least make sure that this sword falls into the right hands so the purgation of the Trickster can begin than let our world be swallowed in darkness.”
“Rock and a hard place.” Reugas shook his head, looking pointedly at Tehin. “I’m really getting tired of these stacked odds against us.”
“Then let’s try to stack as many odds in our favor as possible, my friend,” Tehin assuaged him. “And if not, then the First will learn that we will not go without a fight.” At that, Reugas chuckled; to fight a revered figure from imperial history in combat was something that no soldier in the Empire would ever expect to happen, and the Pillars stood among those ranks.
“Please, Prince Kandro,” Jerrovahn said, ignoring Reugas’ outburst. “Place your sword into the pedestal.”
Kandro placed the sword into the mold on the pedestal, giving a final push as a small crack ensured that the weapon was firmly entrenched within and stepped back. At first, nothing happened... then the room seemingly exploded in energy, blinding all within the chamber as the sound of piercing shrieks shook the ground and rippled through the air.
As he raised his hands to cover his eyes, the last Kandro saw of his martialsword was of something—a tendril of energy, he assumed—carving something into the blade. And through the din of the moment, he could hear whispers, words no longer spoken in the day and age he was born in. Ancient Renascent words from a time no longer remembered, unknown yet strangely familiar, enunciating words of power that bore themselves into the sword, changing its form as the light molded and reshaped it into its original legacy.
The light pulsated, flashing even brighter in quickening intervals, causing all to recoil from its expanding sphere as the shriek of energy turned into a deafening cacophony of ear-splitting roars. The only sign that the act was nearing its end was the acrid smell of the energy made manifest expending itself, burning air and metal as the process neared its completion.
Eventually, they lost their footing as the quaking grew too great for them to stand righted, though the spectacle was strange; this was surely a situation where the vaulted stone ceiling above them should have long since collapsed upon them as the unceasing tremors beneath feet and hoof would have felled even the Obsidian Spire by now.
“What in the hay is going on?!” Applejack shouted.
“Calm yourself, dear!” Rarity said. “Just let the magic run its course!”
“Wh... magic?” Twilight mumbled, her voice obscured by the noise. “Magic? Magic!” Her eyes shot open and took in the scene before her. “Applejack? What’s going on?”
“It’s just some crazy magic doodad thingy that they’re doing to the prince’s sword! They’re puttin’ some sort of harmony magic into it or somethin’!” She narrowly caught her hat just as it was about to be blown away, her attention divided between standing her ground and trying not to accidentally throw Twilight off her back.
Twilight hopped off of Applejack’s back, her torso experiencing a short soreness as her body reacclimated itself to the ground underneath, unfortunately much to her chagrin as the disorientation caused from being on her friend’s back was now experienced at full blast as she swayed around on her hooves.
The light swirled around, pulling itself into a whirlwind as it began to recede, and disappeared far faster than it had arrived. Within the span of only a few seconds, the room was back to normal again, and the soothing warmth above them returned, shining down upon the pedestal and the new item it now bore.
“That’s... quite a sword...” Artim said. All of them, including Jerrovahn, circled around the pedestal to watch Kandro pull the sword out of the stone mold, chips and shards of hardened steel flaking off of it as he did so.
“The Blade of the First...” Jerrovahn said reverently. “It is as I remember seeing it in the tomes. Through every iteration of repair it has gone through since it had fallen into our possession, the blade lost a large amount of the qualities that it once had in favor for repairs by men who in this day and age could only be considered layman. But this...” He gestured towards the entire length of the runed blade. “...this is a true example of the glory that our Empire once held. Wield it proudly, Prince Kandro.”
“The sword, it feels... lighter somehow...” Kandro stepped back and away from the group, practicing his routines, pirouetting while jabbing and slashing at the empty air. “Much lighter, and much more dexterous. Nowhere near as cumbersome as the old sword, as light as it already was... it’s almost as if the blade isn’t even in my hand!”
“Old world craftsmanship, my liege,” Artim said. “The old Renascent Imperial Legion had entire arsenals of equipment forged with such skill.” He looked to Jerrovahn. “Are there any more such relics that can still be infused with empyrean energies?”
“None, I’m afraid. The founders of Lherren made it quite clear to our order that all that we recovered from Fortress Tyehl was to be buried with the First, undoubtedly as part of the plan. Beyond that, our business here has been completed, and now I am required to pass on a message to the subjects of our great benefactor, the Paragon.”
“To us? A message from who?” Twilight asked, no longer tired despite her temporary slumber. Standing in the light filled her with vigor, almost as if she could sense Celestia smiling warmly down to her, and it gave her confidence as she awaited Jerrovahn’s words.
“The First, of course. He has known of your coming for a very long time, though the moniker he used to describe you in particular was the ‘child of the stars’. Seeing your mark of destiny—I believe they are called cutie marks now, but that was what the Paragon called them back during the Trickster Conflict—I can understand why.”
Twilight watched him as he pulled out a small cloth scroll from his robes’ sleeves, unfurling the object and began to read through it. His mouth mumbled in his skimming, and before long, Twilight’s interested was piqued. “Is that an actual scroll?”
“What, this old thing? No, no, of course it isn’t. The original manuscript was a message from the First to us, but its condition no longer allows it to be used. So we made copies of the text instead, though this one is unfortunately wearing out, as well...” He harrumphed once he had finished and secreted the scroll away in his robes again. “In any case, it isn’t any profound or great message, but merely a friendly warning of things to come, Twilight Sparkle.”
“You... know my name? How did you know that?”
“I was attuned to the conversation shared between Rahvan and your group through the usage of solar magic,” Jerrovahn said. “In any case, the message is this: ‘for the child of the stars, you have many great things ahead of you. Do not forget what you have learned, for they will be pivotal in the grand scheme of things to come.’ I’m not really entirely sure what he means by that, but I suppose you most likely know more about this than I do.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. The empyrean grants the ability to see the future?” Twilight asked, shaking her head at the message. For all intents and purposes, Princess Celestia had not let Twilight know of any such important deeds to come, especially nothing pertaining to the well-being of Equestria and maybe the world.
Jerrovahn crossed his arms wide and frowned. “Perhaps it does, perhaps it does not. Perhaps you ponies have more information on this realm of harmony, for our own archives have nary a single report that could adequately prove it. Plenty of documents that say the contrary, though, if you’re interested in them.”
“So, what? Does that mean Twi has somethin’ big comin’ up for her?” Applejack asked, to both Jerrovahn and Twilight herself. “I can hardly imagine anythin’ tougher than what we’re goin’ through right now.”
“Big enough that it warranted the First to send a message for her to tell her,” he said. “In any case, I will call the guards now, and they will escort you to your quarters. The temple on the surface above us is also welcome to your perusal as well, though I wouldn’t really recommend it since—”
“Sir, sir!” a guard of the order pushed past the double doors, coming to a stop before Jerrovahn and saluting as he caught his breath. “Elder Jerrovahn, there’s been... word...” he panted. “...that there’s something new at the walls. The tomes... the tomes say that it’s a footsoldier from void. He’s leading the chaotic legions against Tandreat’s walls!”
“And this footsoldier, just what does he look like?” Jerrovahn asked him.
“Taller than a man... walks on two legs and has a tail, with a horned head. Hellish in its appearance, and it’s already put the militia on edge. The rest of the order is standing their ground, but this one is too powerful for any of us to deal with. Champion Rahvan is all that’s holding him back at the moment.”
“Then I will go,” Kandro said. “The blade must be tested. Tehin, you will be coming with me as I may have need of your strength. Artim, Reugas, and Yhimit, I want you on the surface to guard the temple. Sehyia, take the ponies and keep them safe.”
“I will,” Sehyia said.
“Good.” Kandro approached the soldier, fully recovered from his exhaustion. “Where is Rahvan, soldier?”
“The north gates,” the soldier said, pulling out a scroll from his satchel. “Take this map. It will guide you to him.”
“Many thanks,” Kandro said, taking the map and spinning the swprd in his hand. It’s runed features were more striking than even the most glorious jewelry in Renascence, and the runes inscribed down the length of the blade glowed in the dark, leaving fading trails of pure energy as he swung it in front of him. “Let’s put this to the test.”
“Why are you the only one here?” Sehyia asked Jerrovahn, who currently was leading them up the stairs to the surface. “Where were the guards at the door?”
“Called to action, unfortunately,” Jerrovahn said, hand gripping the sword sheath hanging off the side of his robe. Having acquired a weapon from one of many guard stations set up within the sanctum, it was his decision to have at least one more capable fighter in the group beyond Sehyia. “Don’t worry about me. Though I may seem old, my sword arm is still perfectly intact.”
“You said something about you reforging the Kandro’s sword before. Does it have something to do with that?” Twilight asked.
“Oh, of course. You see, I wasn’t always an elder. In my old days, I was a blacksmith!” Jerrovahn laughed as the clicks of their boots and hooves echoed up the stone steps. “Yes, those were the days. Smithing’s an honest profession, and given our Empire’s recent troubles, one that never goes out of business.”
“I can tell,” Artim said, strolling alongside the other side of the elder, Sehyia having taken up the other flank. “Now, I’d like to ask you something about...”
“How interesting,” Sehyia said. When she felt the smooth silky feeling of Rarity’s mane against her hand, she turned to see the unicorn looking up at her. “Rarity? Is something wrong?”
“Should we really be ascending to the surface like this?” Rarity asked her. “I was under the impression that the city was under attack, was it not? Why not stay underground, where it’s nicer and certainly less grating?”
“Nothing to shoot at down here,” Reugas joked. “And besides, the last place you want to run into something with lots of sharp teeth is underground. Trust me when I say I’ve had my fair share of close encounters.”
“The quarters are topside, Miss Rarity,” Jerrovahn said, having answered Artim’s question. “And there are far more guards on the surface than there are in the sanctum. With the Trickster able to spawn his minions anywhere, it is a chance I’d rather not take, even with the divine protection of the Temple of Dawn.”
“What’s the history behind this place, anyway?” Dash asked. “It looks really old, and that sanctum back underground totally looks like the kind of place Daring Do would be if she.. well, if she was real.”
“And the statues we all saw with Celestia... I didn’t know she even had this sort of history to her...” Fluttershy said.
“To be honest, sugarcube, I don’t think anypony knows ‘bout this ‘cept the Princesses. We’re treadin’ ground in a place nopony has been in for a long, long, time,” Applejack said.
“Tandreat was built by the survivors of the Trickster Conflict, since it was here that the largest numbers of refugees congregated. We built this city from the ground up like a fortress, with the primary battlements designed to guard the Temple of Dawn and Dusk here atop the plateau that sits within the heart of it,” Jerrovahn said.
“Wowie! You all built this place from the ground up?” Pinkie Pie said. “That’s really cool! So how’d the temples get put here? Did Princess Celestia give you some magical stone thingies for the temple, like what you use for lights downstairs, so you can use all those fancy magic powers?”
“In a sense. The first champion, in addition to the magic learned from the Paragon, demanded that a temple dedicated to our benefactors be built here, on top of this plateau. Though originally intended as means of offering thanks to the Paragon and Protector, it eventually turned into a beacon that other refugees began to flock to.”
“Do you mind if we stop by the Temple before we head to the quarters?” Twilight asked. The question stemmed from pure curiosity, and she was beyond intrigued at how the world beyond her own viewed her beloved mentor. As it turned out, most, like the griffons or the dragons, seemed fairly neutral, but the humans were another thing entirely.
“Certainly,” Jerrovahn said. They finally reached the end of the steps and exited into the night air. Flickers of burning arrows constantly darted through the skies above the city as the temple’s honor guards stood watch, hands tensely gripping their weapons in dear hopes that the fighting would not stray any closer.
The guards were taken aback when they noticed that Jerrovahn had exited with curious company, and their awestruck gazes towards the ponies held for several moments until they remembered to actually say their respects towards their elder and their guests. Jerrovahn merely laughed their lapse in decorum off, but screeches from the gates dampened his mood.
“They’re a little too close for comfort, wouldn’t you think?” Sehyia said. “I assume most of the guards are situated on the walls and gates?”
“Of course,” Jerrovahn said, looking at the roofs of the buildings around the courtyard they’d entered. “And archers all over the roofs. Most of the honor guard not sent to a post have been instructed to stay inside until the alarm bells are rung, though many of them have seen fit to visit the temples for inspiration and support. Speaking of which, they are down this way.”
“We’ll get ourselves set up as soon as possible,” Artim said, waving Yhimit and Reugas towards his direction as he split off from their group. “No doubt that every helping hand is needed. Hopefully Prince Kandro will have this ordeal sorted out in a timely fashion.” Artim and Yhimit ran the other direction as Reugas tossed a hook-line, fueled by his combat magic, up to the roof hanging above him, giving a curt salute before he was whisked away by the rope, shortening their number by three.
Jerrovahn led them down the path, beneath the awnings and behind the columned hall as it led towards a brightly-lit doorway in the distance, with a group of soldiers congregating around it. As they neared, the soldiers immediately stood at attention and gave respectful nods, standing idle until Jerrovahn stopped and looked at one of them.
“Captain Prestio,” he said. “I thought you were assigned to guard the orphanage on the other side of the compound?”
“Indeed I was, Elder Jerrovahn,” he said. “But the matron has ordered me to the temple, believing that its greater significance holds more weight in our defense.”
Jerrovahn sighed, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “If we lose the temple, we can rebuild, captain, but lives are not so easily replaced. I know that the matron’s word is held in high regard, but you must remember to consult with an elder if the decision conflicts with your duty.”
“I understand, sir,” Prestio said. “...sorry, sir.”
“No harm done yet, captain,” Jerrovahn said. “But return to your posts before trouble begins to stir in earnest. Fear not for the defense of the temple, for I have here with me a Pillar of the Obsidian Spire, and with us, as you can see, the bearers of the Elements of Harmony, guests and worthy allies bestowed upon us by the blessing of the Paragon.”
The soldiers gasped, whispering among themselves, and Prestio smiled. “Then I will return to the matron with good tidings. I return now to my post, and I pray that you all stay safe. Come, soldiers, back to the orphanage.” As their squad left, the last thing that Prestio was heard saying to his men, in high spirits, was how the temple was left in good hands.
No further words were exchanged as Jerrovahn led them through the doorway and up yet another set of stairs, emerging onto the open floor that held the grand entrance into the Temple of Dawn. Much like in the chamber, a massive stone etching of Celestia’s sun was carved into the floor, glowing with that same strange solar magic. At least one full unit of guards was stationed at the entrance, keeping watch for any beasts who would dare desecrate their holy grounds.
“Wowie!” Pinkie exclaimed. “If I could, I would totally like to throw a party here! We can have, like, a princess-themed party or something! And we can invite the Princess Celestia and Luna to it! I’m sure they’d like that, right?”
“It could be done,” Jerrovahn said. “We do hold our annual Festival of the Skies here at the temple. I’m sure if Miss Pie could provide some fantastic examples of Equestrian pastries, great times would be shared by many.”
“Wait a cake-chomping moment!” Pinkie said, shifting closer and staring hard at him. “I don’t remember telling you my name, mister!”
Jerrovahn grinned. “Perhaps I can say that I’ve been following your journey since you’ve entered the Empire, Miss Pie, and leave it at that! And I’m sure the children at the orphanage would love to have you around. Maybe we can drop by afterwards and give them something to be happy for.”
“That’ll be juuuuuuuust dandy!” she said. “You wouldn’t happen to serve prairie berry fruit tarts at this festival, would you?”
“Certainly, and plenty of other things. Allow me to enlighten you on our list...” Their discussion continued inside as Sehyia watched the other ponies trickle in with them. The strange feeling in her chest, almost like she was floating in midair with no gravity to tether her to this world, gave her pause. Then, that telltale sign appeared as her hair stood on end, and she drew her sword. The guards at the gate took notice.
“Is something wrong, miss?” one of them asked.
“Trouble,” she said. She looked all around, searching for a sign that something had appeared... yet with each passing moment, not a single trace of the monster could be found. But she knew her instincts; her mind wouldn’t be screaming out that danger was close if it didn’t have reason to. “Stay alert, guards.”
Her eyes drifted across the vista that she held before her, ignoring the mirage effects from the braziers scattered around the open space until she realized something: she was staring straight ahead into the city, without a brazier anywhere close to it... but the air was still blurry.
She urged her body to react, and no sooner had she done so did a tendril suddenly appear and slash at the position where her neck had once been. The spine-like weapon barely grazed the tip of her nose as she rolled backwards, falling back towards protection as the guards quickly swarmed in front of her, deflecting another round of lightning quick slashes from the beast with their shields.
“What the—?!” Jerrovahn returned outside, sword in hand. “One of them, here?!”
“Get inside, elder!” Sehyia shouted. “I’ll handle this! Keep the ponies safe!”
“Of course! But before I go, take this!” He dug into the small pouch on his belt and tossed Sehyia what appeared to be a small pebble. “Use it on your weapon! You’ll be glad you did!”
She was barely able to glance at the object before she looked at Jerrovahn and shook her head. “I... what?! How do I use this?!”
“Just put it on your blade!” Jerrovahn said. “Ancestors curse this predicament, and woes upon the First for making me do this!” He quickly ran over, snatching the rock from her hands, grabbed her arm, and slammed the rock into her sword; to her surprise, the rock simply merged into it without any resistance. “There! Now I’ve been out here long enough! May your sword strike true, Sehyia!”
“What the fuck is going on here?!” a familiar voice shouted. Reugas pulled himself over the railing to her right, firing several arrows as he sprinted over to her crouched form. “Sehyia? What’s wrong, did a foot soldier knock the wind out of you?!”
“Shut up, Reugas!” She stood, feeling her blade quake much like what had happened with Kandro’s martialsword. “Jerrovahn put something in my sword, and... I don’t know what it did!”
Reugas grabbed her wrist and rotated her sword so the blade hovered in front of her face. “I think I can hazard a guess,” he said, breaking off temporarily to fight the demon as guards flew over them. As the monster bellowed triumphantly, Reugas grimaced and looked over his shoulder. “Hold yourself a moment, you ugly bastard. I’ll get to you in a moment.”
“I... think it’s just like Prince Kandro’s sword?” she muttered, watching the ancient runes carve themselves into the steel out of thin air as her blade glowed a radiant yellow. Then she understood what Kandro felt: feeling herself become taken by the power emanating from her weapon.
“Yes, I’m sure that’s fantastic, but could you figure out how to use it, like, right now?” Reugas asked, distracting the beast as he danced around it at a stone’s throw away, urging the circling guards to keep at bay. The brute’s resilience was greater than anything they’d fought so far, as Reugas’ arrows seemed completely unable to pierce its thick hide. Its grotesque jagged mouth merely opened as it laughed at his futile attempts to fell it.
“I think I’ve finally got... it...!” Sehyia’s vision of time seemed to slow to a crawl, evidenced as Reugas’ returning shout turned from a cry into a slowed affirmation of her statement. The peripheries of her view glowed with a golden energy, and the feeling was almost overwhelming as she quickly focused her mind on only the important details.
She stood and turned around. In her eyes, every human around her glowed with a serene blue fog, which she assumed to be representations of their life forces somehow. Reugas’ had a tinge more of indigo, undoubtedly alluding to his combat magic ability.
The footsoldier, still turned away from her, was glowing a heinous red, its wisps tearing away from its form, like a furious animal that wished to strangle the world itself to death. By extension of that, similar such objects dotted the skies above Tandreat, occasionally swinging down to launch an attack on a guard unit, assuredly.
And herself... she looked down at her hand, and found it glowing that same color that tinted her vision, but far brighter. When she raised her sword from the other hand, she found it surprising that it wasn’t a sword any longer, as she now appeared to be holding a lance of pure cleansing fire. The energy reacted to this, eventually shaping the flames into the recognizable form of her blade dancer’s sword.
She looked down to see that the reds of her armor and cloth had somehow been recolored into a pure white, so intense that it seemed to glow even in the dead of night. The footsoldier turned around, giving an acrimonious roar at the sight of its new opponent.
Sehyia steadied herself, and readied her blade, arcing it behind herself as she crouched into a low combat stance. It was time now her dance of blades, where none save herself would be leaving alive.
“...be careful...!” was all she heard Reugas clumsily shout through her enhanced senses. But there was no need, for as much as Reugas was inhibited by the disadvantage of a normal time dilation, so was the footsoldier.
And yet, in another turn of surprising windfalls, as soon as the footsoldier had finished raising its abomination of an arm to swing its weapon at Sehyia... it stopped, frozen in time. At first, she had almost scoffed at the fact that her abilities had now transcended far beyond anything a Pillar could achieve, but decided to take her time instead, weaving around the beast’s extremities and hacking away at them rather cleanly, shearing through its flesh where normal weapon would not have worked or even broken.
It was exhilarating, and within moments, she knew the footsoldier would be dead before its corpse even hit the ground. Among the combat, she could see Reugas sluggishly moving about, raising a hand to the side of his head at the view that now greeted him, and she could barely suppress her smile. Another reason to hope, another blow against the Trickster. If Kandro had anything near as powerful as what she had... then reckoning was guaranteed.
She stopped in front of the footsoldier, jumping back to inspect her handiwork. Clean lines all the way through, still glimmering from the energy embedded within the sword as it cleaved through like a hot knife through butter. Artim would no doubt have great interest in asking her about her newfound accessory, and—
Coughs escaped her lips as sharp jabs of pain wracked her body, and she flew backwards and hit the ground roughly. In an instant, the energy that had strengthened her was gone, torn out of her body in a fashion that she could only equate to having one’s soul ripped out of their heart. But she was clearly still alive, and as she picked herself back up, she could see the disintegrating parts of the former footsoldier fading away into ashes.
Reugas returned to her, giving himself as a crutch for her to lean on as she got to her feet. “Ancestors bloody protect us all, that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen! It was like you suddenly turned into divine lightning and hacked that thing to pieces in the blink of an eye!” he said to her while eyeing the sword in her hand; the runes upon it still glowed.
“I think Prince Kandro will be just fine...” she rasped out.
“Shields ready! Another round incoming!” a guard captain shouted. The line of soldiers standing in the center of the street raised their shields to form a barrier as the projectiles bounced off. “Archers, ready arrows!”
Kandro and Tehin charged down the street, finding refuge in an enclosed doorway just as the remainder of the arrows rained down past the phalanx of soldiers. “Arrows now?” Tehin wondered aloud. “Looks like we’d best be on our guard.” He clenched his fist as his combat magic placed a protective barrier over himself.
“Fire!” the captain shouted, and the single line of city guard archers behind the phalanx stood and fired their volley into the air. What creatures in the air were in the parabola of the launch were felled instantly as the remaining arrows found purchase on the ground, and for many, in the backs of charging creatures. “Spears, ready!”
“City defense doctrine,” Kandro muttered. “Tandreat’s militia is about as well-equipped and trained as any standard Imperial Legion unit. And judging from their cohesion, arguably better.”
Grunts and shouts echoed as the beasts slammed into their shield wall, shrieks and screams given in return as the guard unit pierced forward with their spears. Beyond their battle, Kandro could see a quick trio of flashes in the distance, several city blocks farther away and just right next to the gates.
“That must be where Rahvan is,” Tehin said. “But this entire street has been engulfed in battle. Shall we proceed to cut our way through to him?”
“Of course,” Kandro said. His body felt lighter as the energy coursed down to his feet, giving him extra dexterity for his reactions, and making his movements that much more fleet. “I will lead the way. Leave the guards to their formation—we will go over them instead.”
“Headlong into battle, and in a spectacular fashion!” Tehin said, echoing his prince’s actions, as his boots began to glow. “Lead on, great prince!”
“Don’t fall behind!” Kandro said, chuckling to himself as he jumped out of the doorway space and into the street. His path forwards was obscured by a shouting captain huddled underneath his shield and the soldiers on front of him as their battle line stood fast against another volley of raining spikes.
He was startled at how fast his arm moved when he swung to parry them, having already letting his magic take hold in his senses. Where such an act—charging daringly into an enemy’s assault whilst bearing no protection beyond the armor on his back—would normally have at least put him in the proper mindset to ensure his very survival, his mood at that very moment felt... calm. Relaxed, almost as if he were merely swatting flies out of the sky.
Tehin took notice of the prince’s nonchalant motions as he pinpointed the cause. “My liege... you’re glowing!”
“Now is not the time for flattery, Tehin!” Kandro dourly returned.
“No, I mean... literally! You are literally glowing!” Kandro looked over his shoulder, his lips partially curling into a frown until he decided to take a look at himself. And sure enough, Tehin was correct: the whole of his body was glowing. “It’s the sword, isn’t it?”
“That’s great!” he said, leaping over the guard unit as they gawked, landing right at the spear of the incoming charge. A single carve through the air eviscerated the first wave, with naught but a modicum of effort on his behalf, and it pleased him. “I was worried that it wouldn’t work!”
And yet for what he could accomplish with what he had at the moment... Kandro had just the right hunch that, with an even greater push, he could achieve much more. An affirming hum from his sword gave him all the encouragement he needed, and as he continued forward, paving a trail of carnage in his wake
Tehin was right alongside him, caving in the skulls and sides of any creature that drifted too close to his advance with his hefty weapon. As they drew closer to Rahvan’s battle, easily marked with scores of scorched burn marks and bright beams of solar magic streaming into the sky, they split off—Tehin began to work crowd control, dwindling the enemy numbers as Kandro left to aid the champion.
“Make room!” Kandro heard Rahvan shout as he honed in on him in the center of the avenue. “This accursed beast just will not relent, so you must stay your distance until then!” he shouted, keeping his order brothers away as he combated the threat himself. He could see Rahvan, standing off against the footsoldier, kneeled over and spat a globule of blood onto the ground.
He skidded to a halt with a crunching roll through the rubble on his boots, and helped Rahvan up. “I heard you needed help, champion,” he simply said, receiving that same awestruck look when he looked at Rahvan.
“My... liege...?” Rahvan said. Then he looked at the sword in Kandro’s hand, and smiled. “That’s the sword...!”
“It is.” With a firm push, he nudged Rahvan back towards his comrades. “Fight with them. I’ll deal with this one myself.” He received a nod and turned back to the footsoldier, brandishing its ghastly axe, made from heinous spines and bleached bone. “On your guard, blasted creature,” he challenged.
The footsoldier didn’t even bother giving a verbal return to his provocation, instead opting to bolt straight for him; as it turned out, the footsoldier moved far more quickly than Kandro had given it credit for, and only barely to dodge out of the way of his charge, just in time to deliver a rolling strike to the back of its right heel as he spun around to face him. A pained roar alerted him to his successful strike, and he smiled celebration.
But it was too soon, as the footsoldier instantaneously retaliated. Spinning around quickly on its undamaged heel, it whirled its massive axe around with incredible speed. Kandro barely reacted in time, feeling the back of his palm slam into his face as he brought his sword up to deflect the decapitating swing, and followed the momentum of the strike as the axe pushed him around in an arc. He felt something crack in his hand and gritted his teeth; perhaps his eagerness in his newfound advantage was too easily celebrated.
He immediately ducked underneath the weapon as he temporarily retreated to examine his injured hand. As he found out, it was merely minor damage that would only pain his movements with his left hand, but nothing that would put him out of the action permanently. And with the greater size of the blade, it made far more sense to wield the weapon with both hands and merely one. He grimaced; what teachings on two-handed wielding styles for the martialsword were broken and incomplete; had the First meant to proliferate its teachings following the war?
“Are you alright, sire?” he heard Rahvan shout.
“Just fine!” Kandro shouted. He sidestepped a descending strike and slashed the footsoldier’s arm repeatedly in the blink of an eye before jumping back. He groaned at the lack of the creature’s acknowledgement of his damage, before he felt something hit his side and send him reeling back into the ruins of a burnt-out home. The tail, he recalled; he’d forgotten that such an appendage could also be used as a weapon, though it was with great fortune that it hadn’t had any barbs or otherwise able to have instantly impaled him.
“Sire!” he heard Rahvan cry out.
“I’m fine!” Kandro angrily replied. “Just stand back! I’ve got this!”
He adeptly disappeared out a side door instead of the front opening of the home, where the footsoldier would have been waiting him. Meandering through an alley back towards the street, Kandro found it just as he expected: with its gaze set upon the house he was once in, back facing towards him. Taking the opportunity, he dashed forward, hopefully to gain enough distance to deliver a decisive killing blow upon its head.
But yet this attempt would not succeed, either. Again, with inhuman senses, the footsoldier whirled around and slammed into him with a fist, sending him flying into the crumbling building right across the street from the previous building he’d been acquainted with. As he held the side of his head, his frustration only boiled over. If this was the sort of enemy that they would be fighting against in the coming days, why couldn’t he even kill just this one with his empowered sword? Some advantage it turned out to be.
A skittering pack of lithe demons were routed by Rahvan as he moved into the building to assist Kandro. “Prince Kandro! Are you alright?” he asked, holding out a hand to help him up.
Kandro swatted him away, and pulled himself up. “I’m fine! I just... don’t understand why this isn’t working! This is the First’s legendary weapon, and a martialsword at that! Why won’t it work against a mere footsoldier of the Trickster?!”
“Simple solutions, sire,” Rahvan said, pointing at the blade. “You know his weapon, and you know how to wield it. But you must think like the First to truly make the weapon sing. Think, Prince Kandro—how would the First fight if he stood here among us?”
“He’d... follow the... teachings...” he said, fading off as he realized just what he’d been missing. He’d charged into battle expecting to merely cleave the hated enemies of the Empire into pieces and had eschewed what he had been taught: the martialsword way. And they were simple, easy to remember and follow: remain calm, anticipate the enemy... and maintain complete control of the battlefield. “That’s it.”
“Good,” Rahvan said, patting him on the shoulder. “I leave you to your battle now. Do not fail us.” He returned to the street, running through the wall of sand and dust and into the fray again.
Kandro inhaled deeply, letting his mind settle itself before he exhaled. The sounds of battle were tuned out as he focused upon his inner quiet, feeling his awareness extend in all directions, taking in every rock, human, and creature running through the city. He could see the footsoldier in his mind’s eye, bellowing out a fearsome battle cry that only emboldened the underlings in its command. And he could see Rahvan with his comrades, a lone beacon staving off an unending wave of darkness from the city gates.
To be fully attuned to the world’s nuances, that he remembered, was something that only true martialsword masters could achieve. And he was no master... or so he claimed. Tehin and his mentor had said that he was more than ready for the challenges that lay ahead of him, and yet he did not feel like he had truly comprehended all it had to teach. Perhaps this was the final step, and he let himself draw in the energy that permeated him.
Gleaming sprites crossed the inside of his eyes, and before he knew it, the entire world was being visualized through a medium of pure energy. The calling cry of the empyrean magic spurred him forward, and he opened his eyes to see his world through near-omniscient sight, his vision greatly sharpened and perception of time slowed down to a sluggard crawl.
As a normal human, he could not comprehend how to defeat the footsoldier, too hardy and quick for him to adequately fight against. Yet here, the magic called to him, screaming out every flawed facet on its form that he could exploit to his advantage. A single step forward shifted into a glide and propelled him far, launching his body out of the building and out into the open as he landed softly on his feet.
The footsoldier took notice of him again, and raised its axe towards him in its own challenge now, edging him on with a guttural laugh. Kandro merely shook his head at the display, watching in amusement as the smaller critters seem to pass him by, though whether it was out of fear of him, or respect for their master, he did not know.
Martialsword style dictated that the battle be finished in a few moves as possible. Observe, predict, counter, and destroy—four steps were all that was needed. He began to circle around the footsoldier, carefully eyeing its reaction as it mirrored his steps opposite him, his adversary snarling as black ichor drooled from its teeth.
His sword grip tightened, and he leveled the weapon, pointedly aiming straight at its head in acceptance. A huff was given in response as it waited; he was being given the first move... a strange and twisted example of honor that only chilled his blood. It was toying with him.
A true martialsword master could fight even when blind, his master had once told him, and at the time, he’d wholly believed such mastery to be nothing but a hoax, an outlandish promise fabricated as a means to motivate, not to actually achieve. Now he realized that statement had more to it than he had originally realized: his body reacted before the axe could even swing in his direction, almost as if he could predict where every move was coming from before it was even committed.
His direct charge leading into a straight jab at its lower stomach was a feint, as he dived to the right and slashed his sword through its side. A line of hissing blood splattered onto the ground as the monster’s returning strike missed, having been thrown astray by the sudden introduction of pain as he performed his maneuver.
“...whelp!” At first, Kandro was nonplussed; where had the voice come from? He looked around to find all the others around occupied in battle. “You will pay for that!” It was deep, hoarse, and clearly directed at him. Then he slowly turned his head to look at the footsoldier, who kneeled on the ground clutching his wound, cut deep into its flesh as Kandro’s sword finally attained enough power to strike with permanence instead of hindrance.
“You can speak...?” Kandro said lowly.
“If not to strike fear into the hearts of you impudent worms before your last breath is taken,” it spat back at him. “I will destroy you! Your pathetic weapon will not best me...!”
“Surprised, are you?” he replied. “It would certainly explain why you’re spending this time talking instead of fighting me...” He trailed off, letting his statement hang liltingly as the jibe enraged the footsoldier.
“You dare insult me?!” it roared, stumbling over as it attempted to stand. “I am one of the first lieutenants sent back to this world to pave the way for our legions, and to conquer your wretched world. We have learned from our mistakes last time, and we will not fail...”
“A lieutenant...” he noted. “Something I can report to Artim later, at least.” No further words were traded as he advanced forward, the tip of the sword grinding against the weathered cobblestone on the ground as he moved in for a strike to the lower extremities. As he brought the sword in to attack, though, he was promptly parried, and twisted around on his feet to segue into another strike to the abdomen.
He was prepared for the imminent counter from the tail, jumping above the appendage and grasping the horns upon the lieutenant. Despite its greater size and bulk, it couldn’t reach its back, and so flailed wildly as it attempted to toss him off. Its tail continuously smashed into its hide, several stabs barely missing Kandro’s own body by mere lengths as he proceeded to slash away at it.
When the tail came off cleanly, he leapt off and rolled as he hit the ground, diving under the a falling strike that carved a jagged indentation into the stone. Kandro stood fast with a solid block when the axe was twisted horizontally with the twist of a wrist, stopping it just against his shoulder, and knocking it away with a violent push back and leaving it exposed.
“This ends... now!” Kandro exclaimed, hewing the arm away from its body, and vaulting forth when it recoiled to feebly nurse its bleeding wound. At the apex of his attack, the Blade of the First rumbled in victory as he sank it into the flesh where the neck and body connected. The lieutenant tripped backwards in its death throes, and its mouth gurgling faintly as he pulled the sword out with a slash across its neck, ensuring death with finality.
The remaining critters surrounding his impromptu arena took notice of the lieutenant’s death, and quickly began to scatter for the gates in retreat. The order members cheered as their battle, one of many throughout the city, had been won, and Rahvan raised his voice with them as they crowded Kandro.
“You did it, my liege!” Rahvan said, saluting to Kandro as the prince recuperated. “You’ve killed their leader! Now, come, let us fall back to the temple. We will reorganize and launch another counterattack from there before they—”
Kandro’s last sight of Rahvan was of him flying away and into a wall as the feeling of being teleported fluttered his stomach. But he was not being teleported, and light enveloped his sight as he suddenly felt as if he were outside of his body, being pulled towards elsewhere.
He closed his eyes and let his mind wander.