A thud vibrated through Kallinvar's legs, a cloud of snow erupting into the air as he hit the ground, his Sentinel armour absorbing most of the impact. Ahead, the flames of the Drifaeinin town – Hrothfalla – blazed in the night, wisps of orange embers rising into the dark sky. A cacophony of sounds filled the night: men and beasts screaming, steel ringing, roars, shrieks, crackling fire. A tall palisade wall ringed the large town of log-composed houses, looking newly constructed – the parts that weren't shattered and charred. The work of Bloodmarked. Kallinvar's blood simmered at the thought of the wretched Bloodspawn, the rage within him bubbling.
He drew in a deep breath, attempting to settle his mind. He knew it was an exercise in futility. Since Verathin, Kallinvar's thoughts had not rested. He'd spent hours just sitting alone in the Tranquil Garden, watching in his mind's eye as the Shaman's Soulblade tore through his old friend's chest. He had vowed to make the traitor god shake, to make him feel the blood of his creations feed the earth, and that was precisely what Kallinvar would do.
The rest of The Second lined out to Kallinvar's right and left, the dark green of their Sentinel armour shimmering in the flames of the town, their brilliant white cloaks flapping behind them in the wind. This was as close as they had come to the whole chapter being on task together since The Fall; only Lyrin was missing. With only a hundred knights, it wasn't usually efficient to send an entire chapter of ten to deal with a single convergence. A handful of Kallinvar's knights were more than a match for a few hundred Bloodspawn. But there were exceptions. Kingspass being one of them. The concentration of the Taint in Hrothfalla hadn't felt strong enough to Kallinvar to warrant the entire chapter – though analysing convergences was another talent that was new to him – but after Verathin, he wasn't prepared to separate the others. Not yet. He couldn't lose anyone else.
"Sister-Captain?"
Ruon stepped up beside Kallinvar, snow crunching beneath her armoured boots, the eye-slits in her helmet shimmering with a green glow. "From what I saw above, we're dealing with three groups. Uraks and two human factions. Likely the residents of the town and the empire, but it was impossible to tell. Our reports tell of a civil war in Drifaien – it could all be chaos. I can take Mirken, Ildris, Arden, and Tarron to flank east, if you—"
"No."
"But Kallinvar, if we approach from two sides—"
"No." Kallinvar's voice dropped to a growl. He let a sigh out through his nostrils. "We do not separate. We go in together. No hammer and anvil. Just hammer."
Kallinvar couldn't see Ruon's face, but he knew the look she was giving him beneath her helm, and he wanted none of it. He stepped past Ruon towards the city, glancing at the other Knights around him. Arden, Daynin, Sylven, Ildris, and Tarron stood to his right, with Mirken and Varlin standing to Ruon's left. They were his knights. His brothers and sisters. They were all he had in this world – them, the knighthood, and Achyron.
I will protect them, brother. Kallinvar gritted his teeth at the thought of Verathin. With every breath in my lungs. I won't fail again.
"Destroy the Taint without prejudice," Kallinvar called as he marched towards the shattered wooden gates of the town, shadows of motion flickering in the flames. The sick, oily sensation of the Taint pulsed in waves. With the Sigil of the Grandmaster fused with his chest, Kallinvar felt it now more clearly than he ever had before. "There are Bloodspawn here and likely a Shaman. But there may also be imperial Battlemages drawing from vessels. Do not hesitate."
"For Achyron," came a low chorus of replies. Kallinvar could feel the slightest touch of apprehension resonate through the Sigils of Arden, Sylven, Mirken, and Varlin – the four who had borne the Sigil less than a century. Ildris, Ruon, and Tarron had been there with Kallinvar at The Fall. They had fought the traitors who had turned on The Order. They had watched as Battlemages ripped through flesh and bone in Efialtír's name. But the others had not seen that darkness. To them, the Bloodspawn were The Shadow. They did not yet truly understand that Efialtír's hand worked through any conduit it could find. Bloodspawn, Human, Elf, it didn't matter. This would be the first time they would truly understand the enemy that was coming. The first time they truly understood that the world was not black and white. The first time they would see the ever-shifting shades of grey that were war.
Kallinvar picked up his pace, moving into a jog, flakes of snow drifting past him, power surging through his Sigil, strength pouring into his legs.
Shrieks and screams echoed into the night, growing harsher as Kallinvar reached the shattered gates. He passed his gaze over the bodies that littered the ground before the gates and the palisade walls. Fewer than one hundred. All human. Most wearing pelts, furs, and coats of mail, the snow incarnadined around them. He noticed a few bodies bearing the black lion of Loria, no more than four or five.
A pulse of Taint rippled from beneath a face-down corpse with a black cloak.
Without breaking his stride, Kallinvar lifted his right boot and slammed it down into the dead mage's back, channelling the full force of his Sentinel armour into his leg. Bones gave way, crunching and snapping beneath the force, steam wafting from the blood that sprayed over the snow. A fierce red glow radiated from beneath the body, and Kallinvar felt another resounding crack through his boot as the mage's gemstone shattered. The glow faded, the Essence within the gemstone evaporating.
Destroy them, my child.
A shiver swept through Kallinvar at the voice that echoed in his mind: the voice of Achyron. Parts of Kallinvar told him he had gone insane for even contemplating the idea that he was hearing the voice of the warrior god. Had he lost his mind? Had grief consumed him so completely he was hearing voices?
I am with you, my child.
Kallinvar pushed the voice to the back of his mind and charged through the town's gates, summoning his Soulblade. The Sigil fused with his chest ignited in a burst of energy that seared through him like molten fire. Within moments, the green glow of his Soulblade illuminated the surrounding night.
The town's entrance plaza was in absolute chaos. Steel crashed against steel; axes, swords, and spears cleaved limbs and sliced flesh. Men in leathers, furs, and coats of mail hacked at each other, roaring feverishly, while soldiers in the red and black leathers of Loria launched themselves into the mix, seeming to hack and slash indiscriminately.
Amidst the chaos, Bloodspawn rent steel and bone, tearing through anything that moved. Two Bloodmarked occupied the plaza, their carved runes radiating a red light across the blood-dappled snow, their obsidian claws snapping bones like dried reeds.
A shriek rang out to Kallinvar's left, and two Uraks came charging, one bare-chested, the other wearing jagged plate. Both had black-steel spears gripped in their fists, their blood-red eyes glistening, teeth snapping.
Kallinvar side-stepped the first spear strike, then, feeling the power of the Sentinel armour coursing through him, brought his foot up and caught the charging Urak square on the hip. He felt bones snap as the creature howled and crashed into the Urak that ran at its side.
Before the Uraks could get to their feet, Kallinvar had cleared the distance between them. He swung his Soulblade single-handedly, shearing through the rising creature's right hand, then its neck, cleaving its monstrous head from its shoulders. Kallinvar pressed forward, marching over the beast's corpse. He slammed his gauntleted hand down on the second Urak's shoulder, holding it in place as he rammed the Soulblade through its chest. He watched as the beast's eyes widened, taking him in, then he dragged the blade from the Urak's chest, tossing the creature to the ground. Then the rest of the knights charged past him, Soulblades shimmering in the fire-lit dark of night, Sentinel armour glistening.
Arden headed straight for one of the Bloodmarked, charging towards the monstrous beast as though he had a score to settle. Daynin and Mirken hammered into a clutch of Uraks to the right of the Plaza, Ruon, Sylven, and Varlin taking up the left. Ildris and Tarron moved to Kallinvar's side.
"For Achyron, Brother," Ildris said, tilting his head. Ildris was the only knight who still referred to Kallinvar as Brother and not Grandmaster. Had it been most any of the others, Kallinvar would have taken it as a sign of disrespect. But Ildris was different. He, Tarron, and Ruon had been with Kallinvar since before The Fall. They were brothers and sisters in far more than name or title. Kin was a word that fell short of describing their bond.
"For Achyron," Kallinvar replied.
Kallinvar, Ildris, and Tarron charged across the centre of the plaza, their Soulblades slicing through leathery hide, carving through The Shadow.
A man in black and red leathers and a breastplate ornamented with the lion of Loria lunged towards Kallinvar, his blade slicing through the air. A clang rang out as the steel skittered off Kallinvar's Sentinel armour. The man's eyes widened, and he looked up at Kallinvar in momentary awe, then moved to swing his blade once more. Kallinvar struck out, feeling bone crack beneath the back of his armoured hand, the man lifting off his feet from the power of the Sentinel armour-infused strike. Kallinvar took no pleasure in taking the life of one who was not touched by the Taint, but he did what needed to be done. The battlefield was not the place to turn hearts and minds.
The rush of battle washed over Kallinvar as he and the knights carved their way through the plaza. Each motion connected seamlessly, his soul hungering for Bloodspawn flesh. He would make them pay for every drop of Verathin's blood.
All around him, the green lights of Soulblades flashed as his brothers and sisters carved through the Bloodspawn.
The longer the fighting raged, the clearer the situation Kallinvar and his knights had walked into became.
Two factions of Drifaienin tore at each other, sharp steel and heavy-rimmed shields gripped in their fists. One faction had begun to gather in clutches around the plaza, their shields marked with a depiction of what looked to be a kat painted in white. They steered clear of the knights and held back the rampaging Bloodspawn. Defenders of the town.The other Drifaienin bore markings of a red wyrm on their shields, and now that Kallinvar was closer, it was clear they fought hand in hand with the Lorian soldiers. Ruon was right. A civil war.
Judging by the lack of Bloodspawn bodies outside the walls, it looked to Kallinvar as though the Lorians, and the Drifaienin loyal to them, had attacked the town first. The Bloodspawn must have followed them through the open gates and caught them from behind.
Kallinvar could feel the Taint oozing through the town, seeping from every crack and crevice. Its pulsing, oily tendrils snaked through the air like tree roots pushing through soil. Just the thought of the Taint made Kallinvar's mind recoil. Then he felt what he had been looking for. A source. A beating heart of festering sickness.
"Brother?" Ildris caught Kallinvar's arm as Kallinvar started off towards the sensation.
"Shaman," Kallinvar growled.
Ildris nodded, then motioned around the plaza. "I will stay here with Arden, Daynin, and Mirken. There's still more—"
"No." Kallinvar tried his best to hide his irritation and temper his fury, but it seeped through despite his efforts. "We are here to rip the Taint from this town by the roots. If we kill the Shaman, the others will break. The longer we waste, the more will die. With me, Ildris."
Ildris nodded, the green lights of his eye-slits shimmering.
"Knights, forward!" Kallinvar charged through the plaza, summoning his Soulblade once more as he did, tendrils of green light bursting from his fist, snaking around themselves, solidifying.
He swung his Soulblade, blocking the downward strike of a blackened steel blade, using the momentum to carry his Soulblade back around, carving through the torso of a second beast that was charging at him from the left. The Soulblade sheared through leathered flesh and bone, blood sluicing. The Urak howled. As the two halves of its body dropped into the dirt, Kallinvar brought his blade around towards the first creature, catching the second swing of a black steel blade. The force of the collision sent the Urak's blade rebounding. Before the creature could recover, Kallinvar wrapped his armoured hand around its throat. He squeezed, lifting the Urak off its feet, the power of the Sentinel armour coursing through him. The creature snarled and thrashed as Kallinvar brought it closer to his face. At almost seven feet tall, the beast was not used to being handled like a child's toy, but the strength of the Grandmaster flowed through Kallinvar's veins.
Images of Verathin's lifeless body flashed in his mind, fury rising in response. His training told him to hone it, to use it as his own, but at that moment, he cared little for what his mind demanded. He let the pain and loss flow through him, allowing it to burn in his heart.
"Tell your god I'm coming for his blood," Kallinvar whispered to the thrashing Urak. The beast stopped for a moment, as though it was going to speak, but Kallinvar squeezed, his jaw clenching, pulse thumping in his head. A violent crack sounded. The beast's head snapped left, its body going limp. Kallinvar opened his hand and let the Urak drop to the dirt, then stepped over its lifeless corpse, the green glow of his Soulblade glistening in the pools of blood that lay about the street.
As though a door had opened in his mind, memories of Verathin flooded through him. His hands shook, his mind racing. It should have been me, old friend. It never should have been you. Kallinvar's blood boiled as he swept through the streets, his Soulblade slicing a bloody path through Bloodspawn and Imperial mages alike. Whatever the Taint touched, he killed. How am I meant to do this without you? He lost himself in the rhythmic swing of his Soulblade, the burn of his grief, and the art of death.
He was only vaguely aware of the other knights moving to his left and right, cutting down any Bloodspawn that slipped past his blade. Clutches of the soldiers with white kat sigils on their shields were dotted about the streets, holding their ground, doing all they could to keep the Uraks and Lorians from the townsfolk.
Ahead, a Bloodmarked rose from where it knelt over a mass of mangled Lorian and Drifaienin corpses, soldier and civilian. Red light pierced through the smoke that drifted from the smouldering blood runes carved into the Bloodmarked's flesh. The Bloodmarked rose to almost twice Kallinvar's height, muscles tensing beneath its thick leathery hide, claws of obsidian black glinting, eyes misting with red light. The Taint radiated from the beast, rippling through the air like water from a rock dropped in a pond.
Kallinvar let out a feral roar and charged, his armoured boots pounding on the ground.
The Bloodmarked stepped away from the mass of mutilated bodies and unleashed a guttural howl. The creature slammed its rune-covered fists into the earth, a pulse of Taint erupting from its core as it sent a shockwave of rippling fire towards Kallinvar. The ground shattered beneath the Bloodmarked's strike, bodies and bits of broken wood and steel lifting into the air, dust and dirt swirling with sparks and embers as the flames ripped towards Kallinvar.
Kallinvar's first instinct was to leap out of the way, but something pushed him forwards, a voice echoing in his mind. Verathin's voice. 'We are Achyron's chosen. Our burden was never meant to be an easy one to bear.'Kallinvar let out a roar, his old friend's words cutting through him like a sharpened blade. He charged into the shockwave of fire and earth. Energy swept through him as Achyron's voice joined Verathin's, a power like nothing he had felt before. Show him, my child. Show him the might of Achyron. The voice thundered in Kallinvar's mind, the sound of the world dulling around him. As he charged, the ground cracked beneath his feet, the fire crashing into his Sentinel armour and parting around him like a raging river breaking on a boulder. He swung his Soulblade upwards, splitting through the shockwave and slicing into the leathery flesh of the Bloodmarked.
The creature reeled backwards, howling as its blood sprayed into the air. Its runes glowed with a furious red light, pluming smoke. The Bloodmarked swung a clawed hand at Kallinvar's head, but he caught the beast's wrist mid-swing, stopping its momentum dead. The ease with which Kallinvar caught the strike surprised even him, but his blood was no longer boiling, it was burning, blazing, searing. The rush of battle was taking over, thoughts of Verathin driving him forwards. He lunged, clasping his fingers around the beast's wrist while plunging his Soulblade into the Bloodmarked's chest.
The beast thrashed and howled, jagged yellow teeth snapping, its runes blazing with a crimson light, smoke billowing into the air. It slammed its clawed hand into the side of Kallinvar's helmet, knocking his head sideways, sending stars across his vision. Kallinvar glared into the creature's blood-red eyes, unleashed a visceral roar that tore at his throat, and ripped the Soulblade free from the Bloodmarked's chest. Blood sprayed as the enormous beast dropped to the ground, dust and sparks swirling into the air.
Kallinvar's pulse pounded in his ears, his breaths trembling. As he turned, he blocked the swing of a blackened spear, swiping the strike aside with his Soulblade before landing a kick in the Urak's chest with such force the snapping of bones was audible even above the crackling fires and screams that filled the night. I will kill them all, every last one of them.A shout sounded to Kallinvar's right. He didn't hesitate. Wrapping both hands around the hilt of his Soulblade, he swung, roaring as he did. His blade carved through Urak flesh. Again and again, he swung, blood spraying. It should be you here, brother. The world around Kallinvar faded as he lost himself in the swing of his Soulblade and the spray of blood. You were the best of us. He roared as he cleaved an Urak's arm, swinging his Soulblade around and cleaving the beast's head. But they took you from us. Kallinvar's muscles burned, his throat dry from roaring as he let his heart ache. I miss you. Kallinvar's heart pounded like the drumming of horse hooves, his chest heaving, dragging in ragged breaths. His mind drifted, his Soulblade swung. He became death. He could not bring Verathin back, could not save his friend's soul from wandering the void. But he could carve his vengeance in blood. He could tear the Bloodspawn apart.
Kallinvar roared, swinging again and again, losing himself. A vibration jarred his arms as his Soulblade came to a halt, a burst of green light illuminating the night.
"Brother-Captain!"
The words floated in Kallinvar's mind, muddled and hazy amidst the fire of his fury. His hand shook, his lungs dragging in trembling breaths as he looked down to see a second Soulblade holding across his. A knight in full Sentinel armour stood to his right with their arm extended, green Soulblade pulsing against Kallinvar's: Arden.
"What's wrong with you, brother?" Kallinvar roared.
Arden's helmet turned to liquid metal and receded into the collar of his Sentinel armour. The young man's brow glistened with sweat, his skin flushed and red. His eyes were wide in shock as he stared at Kallinvar. "What's wrong with me? The duty of the strong is to protect the weak, Brother-Captain."
"We don't have time for this, Arden." Kallinvar looked from Arden to the two Soulblades that pulsed green light, their edges still connected. It was only then, behind the glow of the blades, that Kallinvar saw what Arden had meant. A woman stood where Kallinvar had aimed his strike, her blonde hair tied in braids, a spear gripped in her left fist, a shield emblazoned with the sigil of the white kat in her right. Two young warriors were behind her, one on his back, blood seeping from his chest, the other applying pressure to the wound. If his blade had swung through, he would have shorn the woman's soul from the world. He would have left her wandering the void for eternity, just as Verathin was. "I…" Kallinvar pulled his Soulblade back. He shook his head. "I am not your Brother-Captain any longer. Keep moving, Arden. The source of the convergence isn't far."
Arden released his Soulblade, the green light vanishing. He didn't move. He stared at Kallinvar. The sympathy in the young man's eyes twisted Kallinvar's heart. "Are you all right?"
"I said keep moving." Kallinvar clenched his jaw. He had no right to be angry with Arden. He wasn't – he was angry with himself. He had let his grief consume him. And in doing so, he had almost shorn the sole of an innocent.
Arden held Kallinvar's gaze for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "Yes, Grandmaster."
Arden glanced at the woman, then summoned his helmet and marched through the street towards where the Taint was resonating from, calling forth his Soulblade as he did.
Kallinvar looked at the woman who stood before him, her face streaked with blood, a gash sliced across her side. She stood defensively over the two young men, her feet wide, shield raised, spear levelled. Her mouth was twisted in a defiant grimace, but she was shaking, her hand trembling on the spear shaft. She was no enemy, she was simply protecting her own. And I almost took her life.
He wanted to say something, but what good would it do? No, he pushed his words down and turned to follow Arden. The best way to help these people was to kill the Shaman. This one would be different. None of his brothers and sisters would die. He would make sure of it.
As Kallinvar made to turn, a hand clasped his arm with an iron grip. He tried to yank it free to no avail. He turned back to see Ruon staring at him, her helmet gone, her dark brown hair tied at the back, her vivid green eyes, flecked with brown and gold, fixed on him.
"What was that, Kallinvar? What is going on in your mind?" A strange blend of anger and tenderness permeated Ruon's voice.
"Let go, Ruon. This is not the time." Kallinvar made to pull his arm away, but Ruon gripped tighter, her Sentinel armour doubling her strength. "I said let go!"
"You can speak to Arden like that, but not me."
"I am your Grandmaster!" Kallinvar growled, snatching his arm away. "It's time you treated me as such." He turned, showing Ruon his back. Something slammed into him sending him stumbling forwards. He rounded on Ruon, fury contorting his face, his hand still gripped around his Soulblade. He brought the blade up, holding the edge out towards Ruon's neck.
"Do it," Ruon said, her nose crinkling in a snarl. She leaned forward, her brow furrowed, teeth bared like a wolf, the glow of Kallinvar's Soulblade casting a green light over her skin. "To me, you will always be Kallinvar before you are the Grandmaster. You are my anchor, Kallinvar. You are what holds me here. We are one and the same. I don't care you what you say, I won't let you take Verathin's death as your own. I know you are hurting. I can see your heart bleeding each day. But you must keep control. These knights are yours now, and out here, they need you. I need you."
Kallinvar's chest heaved as he dragged in deep breaths. In only moments, he went from wanting to scream, to wanting to sob, to wanting to tear a hole through the world. But he pushed everything down. His teeth ground together, his hand shaking as it held the blade. Once more, Verathin's words rang in his ears. 'The duty of the strong is to protect the weak, my brother. Always remember that. No matter what happens here.'
Kallinvar called out to his Sigil, releasing both his helmet and his Soulblade, the green light being replaced by the flickering orange-red of the burning town. He reached out his arm. "To the void and back,"
"To the void and back." Ruon repeated, clasping Kallinvar's forearm. "Not too soon, though. We've some work to do yet." Ruon gave Kallinvar a weak smile and a nod, moving to follow after the others.
Kallinvar tugged at her arm. "Thank you."
"We'll talk about it when we get back to the temple. You can't bear Verathin's loss alone, no matter how strong you are."
"Ruon, I—"
"We're talking about it, Kallinvar." Liquid metal emerged from Ruon's collar as she walked past Kallinvar, her helmet reforming, the dark green metal glinting in the firelight.