Remnant Pages Spearhead Page 30

  ‘What is it?’

  Lidayel kept quiet.

  ‘Don’t hold back on us Summoner, more than four thousand men’s lives are depending on you,’ said Brunick.

  ‘There is something,’ Lidayel started hesitantly, ‘the old Summoners, in order to assure survival for our kind, stored great amounts of magical power in the land itself, accessible by the Calophrite channels. They passed down the secrets to call on these powers very carefully and are now guarded by both Grandmaster Tabacher and the King himself. Each Summoner of the Asheva council is taught one ritual in order to use some of these powers in the face of an ordeal. It is one of the reasons we are so often made to forget; so that we do not reveal our secrets to one such as Arumcas when captured.’

  ‘And this power can help us create the rainstorm! Can you remember how to call upon on it?’ asked Cid excitedly.

  ‘I’m not even sure I should be even telling you this, much less doing it,’ said Lidayel.

  ‘Come now Summoner, our cause isn’t going to get much more desperate than this. Think of it this way, if we can somehow beat the Fallen here, then the Ghost pass to Durandal and your wife will be cleared clear open,’ said Alex.

  Even now Lidayel wasn’t swayed.

  ‘Lidayel, we either take this risk or we all lose,’ said Cid, ‘how do you think this is going to end if we don’t intervene now?’

  Eventually Lidayel nodded, conceding.

  ‘We have to get to the centre of the plain, and don’t dare get impatient; this is going to take the remainder of the day.’

  It was a painfully slow process. Lidayel had spent two hours in meditation before he seemed ready to assemble his powers. Several times he allowed Vanapha to enter his mind in order to help him remember parts of the ritual that remained elusive to his memory.

  Cid and the others watched uncomfortably as Lidayel made markings and symbols in the red dust with his staff, talking to himself all the while. They proceeded to stand further and further away as Lidayel’s eccentric ramblings became louder, his drawings growing bigger.

  What started out as simple etched lines in the dust later became a circle with a thirty yard diameter of intricate design, symbols containing symbols. Somehow, the canyon wind did not even touch these inch deep drawings. Then Lidayel started to chant rhythmically, walking all around his symbols, his gaze fixed as though he was reading them.

  ‘We should start finding higher ground,’ said Vanapha.

  Cid knew better than to question her and thus agreed.

  After trekking arduously to the ridge of the western plateau they witnessed Lidayel finishing his spell. Far below Lidayel now stood in the centre of his patterns, his staff held above his head and his eyes set on the heavens. The earth around him grew dark and Cid looked up to see the shadows of the clouds outgrowing daylight.

  Clouds of deep blue and steel grey were massing right above the Basin, the epicentre of it all in line with Lidayel. They grew from out of nothing, feeding from moist still invisible, then twisted and swirled with such conviction it was as though Cid could see Lidayel exercising every motion of control. Tied down the clouds loomed closer, leaning over the land. Soon thunder peals sounded overhead as though the heavens were voicing their discontent at the attempt of someone leashing them.

  ‘It’s coming,’ said Vanapha with a knowing smile.

  As the first drops struck them Brunick laughed, stretching his arms wide. Small puffs of dust jumped up at the impact until the first layer of ground was sated. The drops were heavy and cold, promising, but nothing worth mentioning.

  Even after ten minutes of varying intensity, the land was barely wet. Cid did nothing else than keeping his gaze locked on Lidayel’s unchanging stance, his staff still held aloft, certain that if the Summoner faltered the entire effort would go to waste.

  ‘Is he struggling…?’ asked Alex.

  ‘I don’t think he can manage it,’ said Cid disappointedly, the clouds were heavy, but the rain remained feeble, ‘he did warn us.’

  Cid grimaced as Lidayel lost his balance in the far for a moment, planting his staff in the ground to hold himself up, his exhaustion understandable.

  The clouds grew to an impasse, soon to escape his grasp. Cid bit in his lip as he saw Lidayel suddenly casting the staff away, spiralling to fall in the dust.

  The Summoner lifted his hands up again, staring deep into the heavens, reaching up as though he was standing on his toes. His fingers contorted above his head, like he was grasping the clouds.

  ‘Look at that!’ said Brunick first, Lidayel’s determination coming to life as the pattern he drew in the dust started glowing with hues of blue and purple.

  Like an orchestrator he wrenched his hands dramatically, as though pulling on something heavy. The mightiest of clouds above him responded, tugged out of their comfort, spinning unnaturally as Lidayel seemingly tore through the layer he himself had so carefully built.

  A crack of light and thunder heralded, the drops pulsating from above, pushing away from the clouds. There was a brief anticipation before the cold and the wet sagged in completion.

  …and then the rivulets ran. The rain became incredibly hard, the sky widening its maw to douse the land. Cid and company tried to find cover vainly under an outcropping as the onslaught soaked their clothes within moments, yet all of them could not help but show elation as this giant dry Basin met its match against the waters of the sky.

  The canyon flooded, nothing escaping the downpour as even Hashur was obscured in the veil. Lidayel, down below in the Basin, remained fast to sustain his magic, his hands spread open humbly now at his sides, his stance seemingly welcoming. Already the Basin hungrily accepted the water into its folds so that Lidayel’s ankles were submerged.

  And then his knees…

  And then later his waist…

  Past a certain point Cid accepted that Lidayel was using his power to keep the water from swallowing him completely.

  The rain lasted with incredible intensity as though the clouds were saying collectively: “you’ve asked for me, now I’m here to stay.” The pinnacle itself must’ve grown nervous as the water crept up its base.

  The outcropping where underneath Cid and the rest found shelter was the only dry ground in sight as it split the waters before it cascaded down the plateau steppes and into the fold, saving them from being swept by the flash of muddied water raging past.

  The mix of dust and moist gave a unique and refreshing scent, overpowering on this scale, and it reminded Cid of when he was doing patrols on Lanston’s countryside with Brunick as young soldiers. When the rain came, the local farmers would invite the havenless men to find shelter at their houses, standing alongside the hardened sun-beaten men and women under their veranda’s, watching in silence as the waiting land received its long overdue gift. It was never lost on Cid and Brunick when they stood there how much the farmers appreciated the rain, for they would remain as statues for all the duration of the downpour, watching, much like they were watching now.

  It was when it seemed that it would never stop raining that the clouds thinned out, sun beams tearing desperately through the sullen cover. Down below the sights and sounds of rushing water converged from every direction onto the Basin. The entire landscape changed colour and when the sun made its comeback a spectacular rainbow presented itself, stretching across the expanse of the valley. The Basin now resembled a lake, the water lively with movement as it would not come to rest until it all gathered at the lowest point possible.

  Cid felt a strong hope, as though things were finally swinging back into their favour. With the Basin as it was neither Lanston nor the Fallen could approach it, the water barring the path. Lanston had a chance now, as long as Cid could get his say.

  From afar they saw Lidayel slowly walking from the centre, wallowing toward them, using his power sparingly to part the waters and carve an easier path. Cid could only imagine how tired he must’ve been. Nevertheless he allowed himself to grin as
the Summoner approached, Lidayel himself smiling quietly.

 

  In the Lanston warcamp…

  The downpour had hit them hard as well. So intense did the rain come that some of the tents were crushed flat under the rapid weight, men crawling out of them soaking wet, either laughing or cursing in helplessness. Luckily for the soldiers all the water was running downhill into the Basin. Stelinger however knew what this meant. He kept his tent flap open aslight, peering to the outside as Reighler stood behind him.

  ‘This is the Summoner’s doing,’ said Stelinger.

  ‘To be sure young master, he called up a phenomenal power to create this storm,’ said Reighler.

  ‘Impressive,’ mumbled Stelinger, ‘although delaying us will not stop the war.’

  ‘My master, I wish to express concern. If the Summoner calls on-’

  ‘He won’t,’ stated Stelinger. ‘Tomorrow we will ride out and take care of them. I will not allow Cid to be a thorn for a day longer.’

  ‘Master, there are only so few a man you can confront them with, and honestly, we do not stand a chance against them,’ said Reighler with concern.

  ‘You are right, but I do not intend to take them face on,’ said Stelinger, turning to Reighler. ‘Cid carries his spear, Mindevhier, a Hethellean weapon like mine. With it he can dispatch both Brunick and the Summoner.’

  ‘You wish to corrupt Cid,’ said Reighler, a malevolent grin growing on his face.

  ‘We will ride out and isolate him. I will work my magic, you see, I know how to anger Cid, anger and hatred is the key. Then you can work your magic,’ said Stelinger, picturing a set of dull white eyes.

  They sat but huddled around a wet, smoky and struggling campfire that night, ensuring that they would all turn to sleep quite early, none more so than Lidayel.

  ‘Who was that man we saw with the Fallen today?’ asked Vanapha finally.

  Cid raised his eyebrow.

  ‘I know you recognized him Cid… that man who stood with the Priests?’

  The rest look questionably at the two, Cid unsure whether to make assumptions and raise unnecessary fears.

  ‘I thought you saw nothing, I didn’t say anything because you didn’t,’ said Cid.

  ‘I was… caught off guard, I had not known the Priests could take hold of my Sight like they did,’ admitted Vanapha.

  Cid nodded in understanding. He looked at Alex and Brunick, ready to explain. ‘When Vanapha and myself were scouting the enemy camp, her sight came upon a giant man. He just stood there, waiting, with a battle hatchet in each hand, dressed in Fallen armour. I am rather certain it was our old friend iDartés.’

  Brunick and Alex’s faces showed what Cid felt when he had seen the man earlier.

  ‘Are you sure? And he’s a fallen now?’ said Alex.

  ‘Yes, he will undoubtedly lead them into battle.’

  ‘Alive eh? Doesn’t surprise me, he was always a hateful bastard… ugly too,’ said Brunick.

  ‘Who is he?’ asked Vanapha curiously, Lidayel hunching forward from his stupor to listen in as well.

  Cid gathered himself as he sought to explain, his gaze setting on the puffing pile of tinder.

  ‘Three years ago we were sent into Teritua to acquire the highlanders’ help in securing tighter borders against the Fallen. The high Chieftain uTolais was sympathetic towards us, for he too was wary of the Dey’illumra. Most of the Teritua were highly distrustful though. Within our first few days we quickly learned of iDartés, the highlanders’ champion. He was a man bigger than even Brunick here.

  ‘Six-foot-ten I’d say, with a pair of shoulders like an ox!’ said Brunick.

  ‘Please let me finish Brunick. He came off as a power hungry savage from the very beginning, and was keen to convince the high Chief that we were not to be trusted. We were learning as much as we could of the highlanders at the time, so we came upon some of their politics. Although a bit uncivilized the highlanders had the most extraordinary magi, which they called Shamani.

  Apparently there was a ritual among the Terituan people where, in times of great distress, they would call up a spirit and impart it to a chosen champion, creating a powerful warrior. We thought it but a story. iDartés wanted that power and brought many arguments to the Chieftain to receive the honour. uTolais was reluctant, he said he wanted no one person with so much power and I suspect he knew of iDartés’ cruel hart.

  iDartés was not going to give up. While we were on the travel again he arranged the butchery of one of his own villages when we passed close by. He blamed us, citing us as the murderers, going to the Chieftain and begging for the power of his people so that he may exact vengeance and protect his people from all foes.

  In his fury the Chieftain conceded, the ritual was practiced. Imbued with power iDartés gathered his best men to hunt us down, our leading diplomat and Colonel already murdered.

  It was a terrifying race across the Terituan landscape, our minds firmly set on escaping death. We came into contact with iDartés several times and it was like fighting a nightmare. He did not breath flames or command thunder like the Shamani suggested he would, but he was much stronger and faster than a human should be, and maybe more dangerous than anything else, he was relentless - tireless - it seemed.

  That he had some spirit in him was of no doubt. He carried trademark hatchets with him, although hatchets are a bit of a misleading term, for they were big enough to split a man’s chest without much effort. When we wounded him he simply continued on, our combined efforts doing little to slow him. He killed so many of our men singlehandedly… our escape in the end was timely and I was sure we would never again face such a monster.’

  ‘I see, our odds aren’t improving are they?’ said Vanapha, ‘but he will not be leading the Fallen, not if he is one himself.’

  ‘You misunderstood me Valkyrie, the Priests will command the army yes, but iDartés will lead. The instinctual mind of the Fallen will respond to his size and fury in battle, they will see him as a pack leader and they will be stronger for it.’

  ‘Like a talisman then, we’ll have to kill him quickly if it comes to it,’ suggested Vanapha.

  ‘Oh, he’s much more than just a talisman, I put three arrows in the guy back then and he still came charging at me!’ said Alex.

  ‘He’s an impossibility,’ agreed Cid, ‘just before we escaped Brunick wounded him badly. We left him for dead and we thought he would die alone there on the border. As we know now that was not the case. He survived, and now he’s a fallen. All that hatred must’ve caught up with him.’

  ‘Wait a minute though, we haven’t seen him in the flesh. Cid only saw him in Vanapha’s Sight! Wouldn’t the captain’s fears project themselves into the vision maybe? You know, he might not be alive at all,’ suggested Alex.

  ‘I saw him as well Alex,’ chided Vanapha.

  ‘Yeah, but maybe the captain’s-’

  ‘Forget it Alex, the giant is alive, and we’ll meet him again. Best to prepare for that eventuality,’ said Brunick.

  Cid understood Alex’s denial. The Fallen already were a terrible enemy and should not have the pleasure of commanding one such as iDartés.

  ‘You mentioned that a spirit was given to iDartés?’ asked Lidayel, after having listening quietly.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Can you remember what was the nature of this spirit?’

  ‘The Shamani Teritua talked of the spirit of the raging wind, more than that they did not reveal, save for their riddles and chants,’ said Cid.

  ‘Of the raging wind…’ murmured Lidayel, ‘I would then, assume, that the spirit was in fact an Arrhua manifestation. I had not thought such magic possible, if the Kingdom had known they would have opened a dialogue with the Shamani long ago…’

  ‘So what is this Arrhua?’ asked Brunick.

  ‘In a way they are spirits like the Terituans believe. They are called ancients by most and they were central to the Kingdom’s past struggles. I ca
n’t divulge much though, that part of my memories is still dark. What I can tell you is that if Summoners are feared above all, it’s only because most are ignorant of the Arrhua.’

  ‘What does this tell us of iDartés?’ asked Alex.

  ‘He is not an Arrhua, he is but a vessel for some of the power of one, but that makes him no less fearsome than you already suggested,’ said Lidayel, ‘and no less unique for that matter.’

  ‘How do we kill him Summoner?’ asked Vanapha.

  ‘He can be overpowered, of that I’m sure, but the spirit will protect him and it might be more practical for me to battle with him at range, or even better, a cut by a Ruin weapon will stymie his bond with the spirit, leaving him vulnerable…’

  ‘I’m sorry Lidayel, I know you mean well, but I will not let Mindevhier be released. I cannot risk it. We will find some other way to drag him down; our victory will count on it.’

  ‘Ha! Let them all line up, Stelinger, iDartés, Arumcas… I will give them a taste of steel that’ll put em all in their graves,’ boasted Brunick.

  ‘Best not to worry about the man prematurely, we still have a lot to do before we get the chance to see that ugly mug,’ said Cid.

  Silence hung in the air, the struggling fire growing weaker, announcing a time for everyone to roll over and get some sleep.

 

 

  The following morning carried a serene calm about itself. The cool moist air and gushing water had transformed the setting remarkably, the scent of damp dust still heavy in the air. Cid and company were slow in their movements today, their determination to take cover at the base of Mount Hashur decidedly patient as both Lanston and the Fallen would predictably seek to scout this suddenly altered landscape.

  Ultimately it counted in Lanston’s favour that they would run a proper reconnaissance in response to the rains. It would do no good however if that same reconnaissance came upon Cid’s party and were force to kill them. Therefore Mount Hashur was a logical hiding place until they could make proper contact with the Lanston army without being in danger of any kind.

  Ironically that would only happen when Lanston realized that Stelinger had betrayed them and that they were in grave peril. Of the foremost of Cid’s thoughts now was confronting a betrayed and angry Lanston army, trying to piece a way to approach them when the time was right. He would have to count on Girdo and Welce having made some sway among the men or that he could talk reasonably with one of the other Colonels. Either way Stelinger’s presence would be a problem.