CHAPTER 10: When the Sky Burned Blue - Part 3

  Eiran could only open one eye. The other was sealed shut by dried blood. Sharp stones and wood splinters hurt his back. Night had fallen, and the sky was covered with clouds, tinged red from nearby fires. Lightning zigzagged like light arrows through cloud fissures.

  In a flash, everything became clear. In an instant, the line between dream and reality split open like a chasm. They were all dead. He could not remember in detail, but he knew they were all gone. His friends, Violet….

  Tears melted the dried blood in his eyes. He lay still until the rain came down, dampening the flames. He opened his mouth. Wounds made the water he swallowed taste like iron and blood.

  The clink of iron boots on stone made him to turn. A pair of sailors walked among the ruins, reddish light illuminating the Terzion symbol on their surcoats.

  His body protested with stabbing pains as he rose. He hid among the debris, watching the sailors rummage through the rubble with the butt of their spears. They stripped the dead and looted their belongings.

  Anger made his skin bristle. Flashes of memory and incomprehensible voices flickered in his mind. Weakness had always prevented him from doing what was necessary, but not now. Though a novice, he was now a Mana Decima.

  He picked up a piece of wood. He would attack one of them with a spell and then finish the other with the wood.

  ‘“Don't. You're not strong enough.”’ He heard a woman's voice and paused, looking around. No one was there. He continued forward.

  ‘“You'll die!”’ the voice said again. He stopped and again checked his surroundings. This alerted the enemies to his presence. They approached from two directions, eight-foot spears parallel to the ground.

  ‘“No choice then.”’ This time it was a man's voice. ‘“We will help you.”’

  Eiran's vision darkened as if shrouded in black mist.

  ***

  Warships anchoring crowded the waters around Fhon’s military harbor. Lanterns on their decks and signal lights glowed like fireballs floating above the water surface.

  Among them, one ship dominated and dwarfed the others. It featured a figurehead of Ira Vith, the war goddess of Terzion, with golden wings spread to either side of the ship's hull. Atop the main masts of each ship, flags with the symbol of the Terzionite navy fluttered – a horned flying fish with a long, double-looped tail.

  The rain had eased to a drizzle when a boat from Ira Vith approached the dock. Three high-ranking officers bowed to two individuals disembarking. Hundreds of Terzionite soldiers and sailors were busy arranging, tying, and carrying cargo on the harbor.

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  The first man was in his early thirties, of average build. His attire was formal, long-sleeved and ivory-colored with embroidery on the front and shoulders, like palace wear modified for long travel.

  His dark brown, almost black hair was short and combed back. Although he wore the face of a congenial man, it only partially masked the coldness in his eyes. He was Neuvane, a key figure in the Terzion’s Artifica project, one of the most renowned and feared figures in the Inner Realm.

  The second man was tall and robust. He carried himself with a relaxed demeanor, wearing a dark green overcoat with gold patterns and plain gray clothing underneath. The front of his jacket was open, subtly revealing broad chest muscles. His hair was white, combed to one side, contrasted with long braids falling to his chest on the other side.

  “Your Excellency Neuvane, we have dispatched troops into the city and secured some food and materials. There was minor resistance. We lost a few men,” an officer reported.

  “Heh, still so many enemies?” the muscular man said. “Your Artifica cannons aren't as virile as your gloating.”

  “Thank you for your kind observation, Sir Sciast,” Neuvane replied.

  “I've nearly gone flaccid spending weeks on a ship with stinking men.” Sciast stretched his arms over his head. “You, you, YOU, and you all! Follow me inside the city!” Sciast pointed at several sailors, including himself.

  Sciast, Neuvane, and six sailors followed the winding road connecting the military harbor to the city, entering through the remnants of the north gate.

  Fhon left little but ruins and pillars of smoke. The rain had tamed some of the fires, though in many places still raged. Hot wind and ash blew towards them.

  A torch in the right hand illuminated Eiran's face. He wore an open iron helmet, hoping no one would recognize him, as the Terzionite forces were disorganized after looting and facing several ambushes.

  When he regained consciousness earlier, his two enemies lay dead. One with a twisted neck, the other with a block of wood embedded into his face. He did not remember doing it, but there was no one else around.

  Not dwelling on it, he stripped their uniform. One smelled foul, the other like vomit. He chose the less offensive one. Fortunately, it was his size – a rarity for him to find clothing without needing to roll up the sleeves.

  Sciast stopped, and everyone halted with him. Rubble surrounded them. He put his hands on his hips, saying, “Fucking barren. You shouldn't have destroyed Fhon, at least not before I sampled its brothels.”

  “We required provisions, which were non-negotiable variable under the Terzionite flag. Besides, with Fhon destroyed, Terzion is unable to immediately pursue us,” Neuvane said.

  Neuvane spoke as if he were not part of Terzion. It did not matter, to Eiran these two were responsible for his friends' deaths. And he had a chance to make them pay.

  “Gardioz hasn't moved,” Sciast said. “Your worry is premature. I just hope that’s the only thing you’re premature at.”

  “Unlike you, Sir, I have to remain focused on the Empyreum project. I cannot allow for deviations from the schedule, even of the slightest degree. Let it be noted that, with you following me, you serve as a confounding factor.”

  “I’m not following you. I'm not your fuckin’ balls!”

  “Suppose that was the case, may I inquire as to what you are doing?”

  “Keragan bears a grudge against you. If I continue being with you, I’ll meet him and I’ll cut his cock and shove it into his ass.”

  Eiran touched the hilt of his sword. Random flashes of memory flickered in his mind, too fast to comprehend. He just felt it – anger, disappointment, suffering, hatred – and it ignited his emotions.

  Then it all vanished. He was like on the edge of a cliff and pushed into darkness. Lacking coherent thought, he drew his sword and freed Sciast's shoulders from the burden of his head. Neuvane was startled, but before he could react, Eiran had already sheathed his sword into his chest.