//------------------------------// // "Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light" // Story: Death Be Not Proud // by ShinigamiDad //------------------------------// Soros glanced down nervously at Nai’a’s severed head lying at his feet, then up at the dark figure, jogging swiftly away to the south. He chewed his lip for a moment and pulled a flask out of his cloak. He removed the cork with trembling fingers, closed his eyes and took a long swig. He patted Colt’s neck and smiled wanly as the dalzi nickered: “Alright, boyo, let’s go git yer master. I don’ care what it takes--I jus’ don’ wanna have to face her again!” Soros tried unsuccessfully to press the stopper back into his flask several times before cursing, draining the last of the liquor it held, and shoving the cork and flask into his pocket. He slowly and unsteadily untied Colt’s lead and turned to mount the dalzi. He stopped and furrowed his brow, then bent down to pick up Nai’a’s head by its blood-matted hair. He then climbed up on Colt and rode north toward the tall, wooden stockade. Five minutes later Soros reined-in Colt, and hopped off, presenting himself to the head guard: “I needs to see the Tunzal!” The guard, a tall, muscular, dark-haired man with a scar across his forehead, looked down at Soros’ left hand in shock: “What the fuck is that?!” Soros lifted Nai’a’s head high so the light from nearby torches could fall fully on it: “This is why I were sent! Our Lord had a falling out of sorts with Nai’a, here, and told me to come git back his favorite Tunzal.” The guard grimaced: “We have orders straight from, well--” He pointed to the dirty, dripping head, with its blank, half-lidded eyes: “him, not to unshackle Gerrar under any circumstances.” Soros nodded: “I git it. OK, then--I’ll run back and tell our Lord yer the reason he don’ have his number-one right-hand man back like he asked.” Soros turned to mount Colt, looking over his shoulder as he did: “He’s like as not to kill me, so I ‘spect he’ll be here hisself shortly.” The guard jumped forward and grabbed Colt’s reins: “Woah! Let’s not be hasty, here! Look, leave that thing with me as proof if anyone comes asking, and I’ll release the Tunzal to your custody.” Soros handed over Nai’a’s head: “Gladly! He was a real piece of work when he were alive, and he ain’t much better dead! I’ll be glad to be rid of it.” The guard wrinkled his nose as he grabbed a handful of hair at the back of the head: “Just wait here for a minute…” He disappeared through the iron-bound door, and Soros could hear loud, animated talking, and the slamming of an interior portcullis. Some three minutes later the guard reappeared, tugging Reaper along by his shackles. The guard pulled a key out of his cloak pocket and unlocked the shackles, removing them from Reaper’s wrists and hanging them over his belt. Reaper pulled and spat out the dirty rag bound across his mouth and stepped away from the guard. The guard nodded: “Alright, take the Tunzal and go! And if there’s any trouble, I’ll find you and make you pay!” Reaper looked away to the east and noticed a flickering, dull-red glow in the distance: “I strongly suspect Yunada’s going to be too busy to worry about it for a bit. Besides, I’m off to present myself to him now.” Reaper took up Colt’s reins and walked away from the stockade briskly: “Come, Soros--we have things to discuss!” Soros eyes grew wide: “Yer not gonna take me back to her are you?” “Her?” “She sent me! I don’ really believe in the old gods, but she has t’ be Broka Nosk’a! She came dashin’ out of the dark, naked, covered in blood, carryin’ just a sword!” “When?” “I dunno--maybe ten, twelve minutes ago. I ain’t never seen nuthin’ like it! Three lancers tried t’ ride her down, and she jus’ grabbed two of their spears at the last second like they was pieces of straw!” Soros shuddered and adjusted his cold, damp breeches: “She throwed the riders and speared ‘em before they even had a chance to roll over! Kil’t the third one as he was crawlin’ away!” Reaper furrowed his brow: “Luna? No--not killing like that! Nightmare Moon?” He picked up his pace as the two men skirted several units and stray fighters and slaves streaming south and east, making for the distant red glow: “That has to be it! What did you do with Luna, Nightmare?” Soros raised an eyebrow in confusion: “Are you talkin’ to me, m’Lord?” Reaper blinked and looked over at Soros: “What? No. I slipped into the tongue I speak with the woman you saw.” “T’wern’t no woman! A demon, a god, a monster--mebbe! But not a woman!” Reaper smiled grimly as he and Soros and Colt approached the opening in the earthworks on the west side of Yunada’s pavilion: “You may not be far from the truth...” They passed through the gap and noted the multiple corpses, and the blaze consuming the rear half of Yunada’s tent. Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Yeah, she made it back, alright.” Soros froze and began to tremble: “Sh-she ain't here, is she?” Reaper turned to the east and pointed to the red glow backlighting the distant bulk of Fort Torlek: “I’m pretty sure she’s over there. I can’t honestly imagine where else a battle-cum-revenge goddess would be!” “I don’ wanna get no closer! I seen a lotta death in my years, but never anything like the white fire in those blank eyes!” They stopped by the weapon stand where Bitch had been tethered: “You don’t need to go any further, Soros. In fact, head south and east--get as far as you can from here. Make for the Sasol Sea until all this blows over.” Soros furrowed his brow: “But, the forests t’ the southeast’re full of Gindu’s troops!” Reaper shook his head: “I’ve been laying down that falsehood through my network for weeks. It’s a lie. The bulk of Gindu’s forces are inside the fort, waiting to spring a trap on Yunada’s smaller vanguard.” He looked again to the east and the steady stream of squads and companies heading toward the fiery glow: “In fact, I assume Gindu’s forces are fully engaged by now.” He climbed up on Colt and pulled the last of his gold from his cloak: “You are a very wicked man, Soros; I should know--I have been an exceptionally wicked man for many years. But you can be better than this. Take this gold, leave this place, find somewhere where you can do a little good, heal a tiny bit of the harm you’ve caused.” Reaper dropped the bag into Soros’ open palm: “You only live for a few, brief moments, then are gone, and even I don’t know what happens then!” He pulled his short sword out of Colt’s saddlebag and pointed to a few picketed dalzi some yards away: “Take a mount and ride as long as you can. Soon there will be nothing left here but death.” Soros dropped the bits in his cloak and turned to go, then stopped, with furrowed brow: “Thank ye much, m’Lord, but oughtn’t you go, too, if death is so certain?” Reaper straightened in his saddle and smiled sadly: “If anyone knows you have to keep a date with death, it’s me--even if it’s the wrong date! Farewell, Soros!” He drove his heels into Colt’s ribs and rode swiftly to the east as Soros watched him for a few moments, shrugged and headed toward the picketed mounts. Reaper worked his way warily through the disordered tangle of soldiers, bearers and camp followers who were moving both to and from the battlefield as Colt slowly trotted alongside a rutted roadway, choked with carts and gear. As he rode along, Reaper began to notice more and more green or grey-clad bodies dragged off the side of the road, some hewed nearly in half, most beheaded. He also took note of several soldiers staggering west in exhausted terror. Reaper stopped a young, hollow-eyed, sandy-haired man, splashed with blood: “What’s happening up at the front, soldier?” The stunned man stopped and stared blankly at Reaper for a moment: “Hetz'ar Ingerra is there! She is taking in the harvest for T'zarjāin!” Reaper furrowed his brow as the soldier pulled free and stumbled away: “The Angel of Death? I haven’t heard that name used in years!” He pressed on and halted briefly in front of a group of nervous, dismounted lancers: “What do you hear of the battle, riders?” The troop leader chewed his lip and looked Reaper up and down: “I don’t care if you are a Tunzal--I ain’t ridin’ into that shitstorm!” Reaper cocked an eyebrow: “Well, we’ll see about that. First, though, I asked for a report…” The leader glanced nervously over his shoulder as his men muttered: “We got close and pulled back when we saw wrecked siege engines and dead men.” “You are soldiers--surely you’ve seen dead men before!” One of the leader’s troopers stepped up beside him: “Not like this! They was killed from behind, or while fleeing! They was torn in half! Some were dead without a mark on ‘em--just open, horrified eyes!” The leader nodded: “We heard one of the gods was stalking the battlefield, like the old stories!” “Broka Nosk’a…” The trooper shook his head: “Nah, she weren’t naked by all accounts. She has a dark cloak and wings and a crown of black flame!” Reaper furrowed his brow: “Wings? Black crown? Oh, shit! Nightmare Moon, no!” He kicked Colt in the ribs and snapped the reins: “Move, damn you! I have to stop this before it gets completely out-of-control!” Reaper wove rapidly in and out of straggling, retreating units and traumatized bearers and slaves, staggering west as fast as they could. The walls of the fort rose above and slightly to his right as he cleared a low, shrub-covered rise. He froze in dismay and wonder. There before Reaper lay the field of his final battle, but the time was wrong, the sky was wrong, and the gates of the fort were not thrown open, disgorging Gindu’s finest riders, but lay instead in flaming, smoking ruin, breached by Yunada’s fire bearers. Larg hung directly above, his silvery glow blending with Arro’s, who was hovering above the low hills west of the Zuri River. Their light broke intermittently through the billowing clouds of smoke, and clashed with the baleful red glow of burning timbers and pits full of flaming oil spread before Torlek’s walls. Reaper blinked hard, shook his head and dug his heels into Colt’s sides, urging him forward: “C’mon, boy--we have to get in there before she kills everybody, including herself!” Colt picked his way carefully across the pocked and wreckage-strewn battlefield, working his way around scores of dead and dying soldiers in both green and blue livery. Reaper noted with grim satisfaction that there appeared to be more green on the ground than blue--though the crimson stains soaking through dominated all. Reaper reined-in Colt as they approached the flaming pits around the gates. He dismounted and hailed a knot of soldiers huddled next to a broken siege engine: “You--spearmen! I require an escort into the fort!” The leader started and swung around, spear trembling before him: “N-no fuckin’ way am I goin’ back in there!” Reaper stared coolly at the sweating man for a moment: “Do you know who I am?” Two of the soldier’s companions turned to face Reaper and stiffened. The leader swallowed hard: “You’re a Tunzal…” “I’m the Tunzal, Sergeant--there are no others in this region right now. Additionally, Nai’a overstepped his bounds one final time, and I am now Lord Yunada’s second in-command.” Reaper saw a young boy nearby, perhaps eleven or twelve, struggling beneath the weight of a bundle of pikes: “Boy--to me; drop those pikes and come over here.” The boy furrowed his brow, but leaned back and dropped the burden off his shoulders behind him. He trotted to Reaper’s side. Reaper handed Colt’s reins to the boy: “You are now my squire. I would rather not ride my dalzi into the maelstrom ahead, but I may need him. Whatever you do, do not let go of his lead--stay by this beast or you will die. Do you understand?” The boy nodded nervously and reached up to touch Colt’s neck. Reaper turned back to the Sergeant: “Now, as to you three--do you see this blade? Do you see the pits of fire? Do you know what I can do, even here in this chaos? What could possibly be more fearsome than that?” The Sergeant shuddered: “Her! You ain’t seen her, m’Lord! None can stand before her! She followed our Lord up into the keep. He’s tryin’ to git t’ Gindu, but she’s like as to git him first!” Reaper stood expressionless for a moment as the sweating man chewed his lip: “What is the worst she can do to you, Sergeant? She may well be T'zarjāin’s Dark Reaper, but all she can do is send you to his dim mansions.” He stepped up to the now-trembling man and leaned in: “But I am no mere reaper--I am the Tunzal Gerrar, and I taught Yunada the terrors of fire and steel and the Goddess. I will not send you to T'zarjāin’s domain--I will send you writhing to Surjain’kos’ blinding, infernal palace where your melting flesh will light her lamps for eternity!” The Sergeant blenched and stumbled backwards, clutching at one of his underlings: “F-fine! Let’s go, then! And I hope she takes ‘ya to Belzul, you son-of-a-bitch!” Reaper smiled grimly as he gestured to his new squire to follow him: “A distinct possibility.” The Sergeant, three of his soldiers, Reaper and his squire struck out across the grounds of the fort, heading toward the keep, with its tall, central tower, wreathed in smoke. Groups of green-and-red or grey-clad troops clashed with bands of blue-clad pikemen and unmounted knights in chainmail wielding greatswords. It became clear as they picked their way across the trampled sward that someone had carved a terrible path through several dozen soldiers. Their bodies lay strewn aside like trees felled by a tornado, some cut in half, others impaled on their own weapons. Reaper stopped for a moment and looked down into the frozen face of a rider lying next to a wrecked cart. “They were right--not a mark on him!” Reaper and his five makeshift companions approached the broad stairs leading through a shattered portcullis and up into the keep. They ducked behind a wagon to avoid a sudden hail of arrows, and Reaper took a moment to survey his surroundings. Ahead of him, up a broad, cracked and pitted stairway rose the keep’s main tower. Scores of men were engaged in combat at its base, and it was clear from the sounds and smoke escaping from its narrow windows, that many were fighting within, as well. Reaper heard a crash behind him as a smoldering siege engine fell to pieces, and he looked over his shoulder down a slight slope to a spring-fed stock pond, surrounded by a shore of sorts, made of pea gravel and sand, which stretched toward the keep’s entrance as a well-tended path. He glanced at the sand, then furrowed his brow and looked up at the tower, now backlit by Larg. The Sergeant jerked his thumb toward the battle raging at the base of the tower: “What now, m’Lord? Yunada has to be in there, yeah? We got ‘ya this far!” Reaper chewed his lip: “Yes, and I have to get in there as well. I’m likely the only one who can stop this!” He bent down and spoke quietly to his ersatz squire: “Stay here, boy; no matter what, stay with this animal and avoid getting mixed-up in whatever happens next--flee if you must.” The boy nodded nervously: “What if ‘ya don’ come back, m’Lord?” Reaper gestured to the Sergeant and his men to follow him out of cover as he glanced back over his shoulder at the boy: “Then Colt and his saddlebags are yours, and good luck to you, lad!” Reaper dashed around the corner of the wagon and jogged briskly toward the flaming portcullis with the Sergeant and his men flanking him, fending off soldiers from both factions. Then a blast tore through the tower, halting them in their tracks as they were showered by a rain of stones and burning debris. A heavy-set pikeman with long sandy hair glanced at the tower and turned to Reaper: “What th’ fuck was that?” Reaper wiped the dust from his face and looked up at flaming hole: “It appears one of Yunada’s Fire Bearers met his end. Come on--let’s take advantage of this lull and get up there!” The five men rose from their crouches and ran toward the knots of stunned men scattered across the debris-strewn keep steps. One of Reaper’s flankers twisted and fell like a ragdoll with a crossbow bolt lodged in the back of his neck. Reaper stopped for a moment and bent down to confirm the man’s end: “At least it was a clean death…” The Sergeant grabbed Reaper’s shoulder: “We hafta go, m’Lord! We’re in the open, here! If we don’ git up those--” He was cut short by a sudden crash of armored feet and barding-clad dalzi bursting out of the keep’s crumbling entrance, accompanied by shouts and cries of rage and fear. Reaper jerked upright and spun to face the sound as Gindu’s personal guard scrambled down the blood-slicked stairs, followed close behind by a dozen green-and-red-clad swordsmen, urged on by Yunada. The warlord was gashed with numerous cuts, and stripped away his tattered cloak and rent leather cuirass as he ran: “Don’t let him escape! Bring him down!” Reaper’s eyes narrowed as Gindu and his escort tumbled past in disarray with Yunada’s vanguard on their heels. Reaper gestured for his escort, and moved to close the gap between himself and Yunada. Suddenly, the whole battle--Gindu’s flight, Yunada’s frenzied pursuit, Reaper’s intercept--appeared to slow to a crawl, as though paused. A dark figure--blood-streaked cloak billowing, shadowy black wings hovering behind, brow crowned with flickering black-and-silver flames--swept down from the tower’s ruined portcullis: “You cannot escape me, Yunada! Death and vengeance are here for you!” She bolted down the corpse-choked stairs, thrusting aside both blue and green-clad soldiers effortlessly as both Gindu and Yunada spun, directing their guards to close ranks and hold against the dreadful specter that was now wrecking death on all sides. She crashed through the press of terrified, frenzied men and animals, sword and spear lashing out, tearing away limbs, shattering skulls. She drove through the final few yards, blank eyes blazing white, violet flames flickering along the length of her blade. Reaper drove his shoulder into the Sergeant just as an ax sheared away the man’s face, spraying Reaper with blood, obscuring his vision. Yunada turned at the last moment, sword upraised, to face the doom descending on him, as Reaper staggered in from the side, reaching for the dark angel, grabbing her sword arm: “Luna! Stop this madness!” She pivoted blindly, and with a shout of rage drove her spear through Reaper's chest and out his back. He collapsed instantly, and Yunada spun away, retreating across the sandy path along with dozens of fleeing soldiers and slaves. Luna’s eyes cleared with a flash as she looked down in horror at Reaper’s impaled body, his blood soaking into the sand. He twisted feebly and lifted his head slightly, trying to focus on Luna as she knelt beside him: “Well-struck...Princess…” Luna dropped her sword and reached for Reaper’s face: “Oh, Reaper! This should not have been! What have we done?!” Reaper smiled weakly as his eyes lost focus, taking in the moonlit tower rising over Luna’s shoulder: “Here we are...again…but where's Twilight...” Luna bent close, straining to hear over the cacophony of the battle: “I do not understand!” Reaper’s locked his dimming eyes with Luna’s as his lids drooped: “Envy...Gerrar…” Luna furrowed her brow as tears welled in her eyes: “What?” Blood sputtered from Reaper’s lips as his last breath rattled in his throat: “He gets to spend eternity...with you.” Luna’s jaw trembled as tears ran silently down her cheeks, and soldiers converged from all sides seeing the dark terror so abruptly diminished. She suddenly threw her head back and screamed in rage and grief as the white fire blazed anew in her eyes. Her would-be attackers froze in their tracks as she rose from the ground, planted her foot on Reaper’s chest and tore the spear from his body, splattering her greaves. She picked up her sword and sprinted toward the stock pond where Yunada’s personal guard was engaged with Gindu’s. Soldiers fell back in terror again as anyone she touched simply crumpled to the ground, lifeless. The dark, shadowy wings rose again behind her like a cape, as black flames flickered above her brow like a dire crown. The field parted before her like water, both man and beast scrambling to escape as waves of power coursed from her, slaying all living things within a few yards--contact was no longer required. Gindu looked past Yunada with widening eyes: “You can stay here and fight Hetz'ar Ingerra if you like, you maniac, but I’m getting out of here!” Yunada grabbed one of his guardsmen and suddenly stabbed him through the throat, dousing his blade with a gush of blood as the shocked and terrified man gasped, clutching at the blade. The warlord yanked his sword free as the soldier fell to the ground: “My apologies, but I need a blood sacrifice and don’t have time for niceties!” He jogged through the fleeing throng, heading toward the dark figure, stopping to plunge his blade into a nearby flaming pit. Orange and green-tinted flames bloomed along the sword’s edges as he pulled it from the livid, smoking pool. Her voice boomed out as she strode, unopposed to meet Yunada: “COME TO ME AND KNOW DEATH!” Yunada sprinted the final few yards as those still alive cowered behind wreckage or fell on the ground: “The Goddess will sustain me! The light will always pierce the dark!” She stopped and spread her arms wide as if to embrace her foe. His blade left a flaming arc behind as it slashed across her chest to no avail. He struck again and again as she looked down, eyes blank, face cold and impassive: “You have failed, Yunada! Your hope in your goddess was in vain, and now you will go down into the dark!” Yunada slashed and thrust and chopped wildly, desperately at his implacable, immovable opponent: “No! You lie! The light will always overcome the dark! The Goddess burns with the intensity of the sun herself, and--” She let go her spear, which hovered next to her, and grabbed Yunada’s flaming blade mid-swing, crumpling it like paper: “Even the sun will die, fool! All things die in the end and return to the perfect, silent, cold, airless void of Eternity. Death is the only permanent victor!” Yunada struggled to free his mutilated sword: “No! I will bask in her glory as--” She released the warped shards of Yunada’s blackened blade with her left hand, and summoned her spear to-hand as she swung Gerrar’s sword around in a tight arc: “You will go now to Belzul and lament your fate. Give my regards to Nai’a!” She drove Gerrar’s sword into Yunada’s chest with her right hand as her left brought her spear up under his jaw and out the top of his skull with a spurt of brain and blood and shattered bone. The warlord’s body shuddered violently as his eyes rolled back and his limbs went slack. She released her grip on both weapons and took a step back, leaving his body hanging in the air like a forgotten puppet. She jerked her sword free and strode back to Reaper’s lifeless body, scanning the battlefield, furrowing her brow for a moment as she noticed Colt and Reaper’s squire cowering nearby. She turned back toward the stock pond and nodded, causing Yunada’s blood-drenched body to collapse to the ground: “Who will join him? Why do you wait? I promise all who come a swift, merciful death! Your lives will flicker out mere moments from now in any event!” She spread her arms wide as the ghostly wings and flickering crown doubled in size and fearsomeness. She waved her hand at a fleeing pikeman who instantly fell face-first onto the bloody sward without a sound. She rose several inches off the ground as bands of black energy coursed outward from her: “Come, all of you! I will give you your final peace, and we will make such a slaughter together that T'zarjāin himself must come!” She threw her head back in ecstasy as another dozen fleeing soldiers collapsed: “And I will slay him in his turn and become Kur’s new God of Death!” Suddenly a gnarled, faceless figure in a tattered grey cloak, propped-up by an ancient shepherd’s crook appeared behind her. She spun around as the figure reached out a bent claw, touching her on the forehead: “We think not.” The light in her eyes was instantly extinguished, and she fell senseless to the ground next to Reaper, her right arm draped across his chest.