The fighting broke out when the militia of Ynyover stumbled upon the rear guard of the Aberffraw warriors. Instantly, men in blue tunics attacked other fighters in blue, creating a melee of yelling people and screaming animals. The slaves, still tied to the ossanes of their captors, their plight suddenly became even more horrific. The battling warriors ran over those unable to move out of the way, while Aberffraw fighters attempted to distance themselves from those attacking them using the slaves as human shields. Sword blows and spears flung against unarmed men, women, and children sent bodies to the ground where ossanes stomped and tripped.
Brihar's men arrived soon after the fighting started and his men instinctively joined the battle. Seeing the plight of the slaves, many who came from Esterblud, the fearless leader called for his fighters to cut away the ropes binding the people to the ossanes of the enemy. Soon, prisoners who still survived scrambled away from the savage brawl.
Urith and his group reached the clash just after Brihar's men. The confused mass of bloody fighting by warriors wearing the different colors of tunics and armor made it difficult to understand who to help. Then, the Clovel Destroyer caught a glimpse of a familiar silver helmet in the distance. Quickly throwing on his own black helmet and sliding his injured arm into the Shield of Skool, the man galloped off at full speed to his target. The warrior clamped his teeth, forced use his injured arm to control his mount while he pulled out his sword. His ossane jumped several bodies in his path, and he could not avoid running over a wounded warrior in a blue tunic. He wasn't sure if it was a Ynyover ally or one of the enemy fighters. But his focus remained on the last of his mortal enemies.
Lyncus didn't see the big opponent charging full speed at his small group of men. Surprised by the immediate frenzy of the fighting they stumbled into, the leader of the Aberffraw tried to regroup his fighters. He yelled for his men to press forward, attempting to exploit the inexperience of the Ynyover militia. However, the swirl of confusion and lack of warriors forced his thin line to fall back. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Lyncus saw the Esterblud. Urith charged full speed into the small group of men around their leader.
The Clovel Sword whipped through the air, slicing through the metal breastplate of one man. As the man slid off his mount without a sound, Urith’s follow through swing cut into another man’s thigh as he passed. He didn’t hear the man’s screams. The big warrior tried to pull his sword up in time, but his mount ran right into the ossane that Lyncus rode. The headlong impact sent both men and animals falling to the grassy knoll.
Just before his mount struck the ground, Urith let loose of the reins and tumbled from his squealing ossane. Using the momentum, the warrior quickly rolled to his feet, next to a mounted Aberffraw. While the man tried to embed a spear into the Esterblud’s belly, Urith threw up his shield which touched his opponent’s leg. The surge of electrical power sent the man and his ossane to the ground, both dead before they hit the grass.
While Urith contended with those guards around Lyncus, the Aberffraw leader saw another small group heading his way. The head of the charge was a stout man in a green tunic, but Lyncus also noticed Fealharan in the mix. He pushed two of his men, who lost their ossanes, in front of him.
“Unleash your spears on them,” he pointed to the charging group who were nearly upon them as he backed away. Immediately, the deadly weapons were coming at Brihar and Skart. The Gramcle leader was able to dodge on of the missiles, but Skart took one in his shoulder. The force of the weapon striking him sent the Fealharan tumbling off his ossane. Brihar continued his charge, sweeping through the warriors who were on foot. The warrior struck down one fighter with a battle ax he carried. The other enemy tried to move to the side, but he was run over by Mivraa who came speeding through, followed by Fedelm. Both women were heading to the Clovel Destroyer who tried to push through a regrouped line of Aberffraw who attacked with spears and halberds to avoid the Shield of Skool.
The two women fighters struck the Aberffraw from behind, surprising the warriors who were battling the Esterblud. Mivraa took down one Aberffraw with her deadly spear. The golden hair woman following her, stabbed another enemy in the back as the man tried to turn his ossane. Urith grabbed man’s shield arm as he turned his mount, embedding his Clovel Sword into the warrior’s throat. The Esterblud pulled the dying man off the mount, trying to scramble aboard the ossane. Disregarding the excruciating pain of his arm, the fighter lifted himself on the moving animal.
Almost immediately he caught sight of Lyncus who was fighting for his life, his dwindling group surrounded by Fealharans and Ynyover comitatus. The line of Aberffraw moved away, trying to reach their leader. Urith noticed Deijumb in the middle of the fray, urging his men forward.
“Let’s get to Lyncus before the Fealharan does,” he told his partners as they came alongside him. Immediately, the trio took off toward the melee.
As they were galloping at full speed, Fedelm wondered about Narslac. Then, she saw the one hand man, charging hard from behind the line of Aberffraw. She instantly realized the Skald circled around the fighting, waiting from the forest for an opening. Fedelm yelled over to Urith, pointing at the charging fighter. Just as they were about to reach the core of the battle, the trio could only watch as Narslac swept behind Lyncus and slammed his shield into the man’s back. The force of the impact sent the Aberffraw leader to the ground. With practiced ease, the Skald jumped from his mount, landing next to the stunned enemy and placed his sword at the man’s neck.
“Yield now, or have your head removed,” Narslac yelled at Lyncus as Brihar reached the two men.
Quickly the fighting fell away when the leader of the Aberffraw surrendered. His remaining Cahmais fighters, seeing their leader at the foot of the enemy, began to lift their arms in the air, dropping their weapons to the ground. A few pockets of men still fought as the remaining leaders tried to calm the blood lust.
Urith rode up on the now standing Lyncus who took off his silver helmet. Narslac had already taken away the man's weapons, looked up at the Clovel Destroyer.
“I told you, you would need me.”
Urith sighed, shaking his head. He could see the Skald wasn't going to forget the Clovel Destroyer’s words. The man turned his attention to Lyncus. The blue-eyed leader stared at the Clovel Destroyer with hate in his eyes. The Esterblud gave him a death sneer.
“Many deaths would have been avoided if I just killed you the first time we met.”
The thin son of Asgurd glared at him. “You were a fool then and remain one still. You've killed many using the power of the gods as without it. You're still a wafaoil, and the ancient code you live for is gone.”
Urith stared down at the defiant man. “Perhaps, but your remaining ally, Satres, is quite dead. Killed himself jumping off the battlements. So now, the rest of us can rebuild this world while you rot in the dungeons of the Citadel.”
Lyncus looked over those who surrounded him and gave a bitter laugh. “These allies are rabble. Not fit to clean my outhouse. I'm the son of a king.”
Brihar suddenly smacked the arrogant man in the back of his head. “Our agreement to return you to the Citadel doesn't mention in what condition you will arrive.” The wounded Skart smiled as he stepped close, holding his bloody shoulder.
“The Fealharan are paid whether you are dead or alive. It might be easier just to remove his head and return it.”
Lyncus glared for a moment, then suddenly began to smile. “You should start to worry about your condition.”
In the distance, a line of blue-clad warriors rode at full speed toward the battlefield. Brihar and the others called out to their fighters to take up defensive positions. Narslac pushed Lyncus into his group of remaining warriors, helped along by the rest of his band. Urith went to Deijumb, who directed some of his men to surround Lyncus and his fighters.
“Will you join me to see if we can avoid a battle with these Aberffraw coming? They may not want to attack if they know who we have.”
The one-eyed man stared at the line of blue fighters. He noticed they were slowing as they approached.
“Well, it's a sure way to Haligulf if we can't stop it.” The old man told him.
Urith grinned at Mivraa and Fedelm who overheard the conversation. “I think the goddess who rides with us will find be happy to lead us there.”
The demigoddess scowled at the Clovel Destroyer. “Don't go getting yourself killed before we get to the Sky Realm.”
Narslac laughed, his booming voice carried across the field as he climbed on his mount. “Irony is not lost on the Fates. I say we all go along. Just to make sure Urith doesn't start something. Who knows? They might not want Lyncus back.”
As the small group rode forward, Urith told Brihar what he planned. The Gramcle leader shook his head. “Now you sound like Pehnuwick.” He looked at the line of the enemy who stopped many paces in front of them. “Well, if they come this way, I'll make sure Lyncus is the first to die. You can let them know that.” Brihar said, deciding to remain with his men. He brought the wounded into his lines, using the Aberffraw prisoners to carry them. Some of the Esterblud and Ynyover prisoners helped as well. The Fealharan tended to their own, staying close to Lyncus who stood defiantly smiling at the coming battle.
When the group led by Urith got close to the silent warriors on their mounts, they heard the squeaking wheels of a cart slowly coming up behind the line. Still too far away to see the wagon, those loyal to Urith instinctively slowed when they saw several leaders in blue tunics pull ahead of the others. Urith recognized one of the men coming.
“Is that Flacanus, I see?” The Clovel Destroyer tried to read the man's face. “You’re a long way from Du-Rinell.”
“Urith, I should have known you would be in the middle of this.” The leader of the Aberffraw warriors remained stoic. “My scouts tell me you hold Aberffraw fighters as prisoners. We will take them back to Cahmais.”
The groups stopped only a few paces apart, each side looking suspiciously at the other.
“I believe that should not be a problem. You may have all but one. Lyncus remains with us. He has much to answer for.”
Flacanus shifted in his saddle as several of his men grumbled. “I'm afraid that is not possible. Much has changed in Cahmais upon the death of King Asgurd.”
The sound of the wagon grew louder as it came in sight. No one but Fedelm paid attention as the large man driving the cart as the line of blue-clad fighters reluctantly opened a hole for the wagon to pass. She recognized the bearded man, growing concerned that he could end up in the middle of a fight.
Deijumb suddenly spoke up forcefully, “The one who brings death and slavery to my people is not going to become the king of your land.”
The Cahmais warrior turned his attention to the one-eyed man. “You must be the one they call Deijumb. It was your people who informed us about the return of Lyncus. Therefore, the Ynyover know why he is needed.”
Now Urith turned in his saddle to Deijumb. “What haven't you told us,” he growled at the man.
The old man kept his good eye on the enemy in front of him. “Urith, I did not lie to you. I said you would be surprised by who would be cutting off the exit of Lyncus. Since I was unsure of your intentions, I kept the reasons to myself.”
“Now would be a good time to let us know.” Mivraa spat out the words at Deijumb before Urith could reply.
“I'll tell you,” Flacanus told them. “There's a clan war about to break out Cahmais. The Aberffraw have run the lands into the ground. Now, the Gallaeci have taken over many villages since Asgurd has died. We need Lyncus as a hostage to ensure the Aberffraw who control the city of Uugara will listen to our demands.”
“Now I'm confused,” Urith told him. “I thought you are Aberffraw from your accent.” The Esterblud saw the large man in the cart wearing a plain yellow shirt. Immediately the man questioned if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
Flacanus gave a brief smile. “I am. But I married into the Gallaeci. I want peace, not domination over the clan.”
The cart came to a stop behind the Aberffraw leader.
Wearing a blue heavy wool trader’s cape, Atheern waved at the group across from him. “Fedelm, my sweet lady, you remember me, don't you?”
“But of course, Atheern. However, I think you might want to continue on,” she warned him.
“Nonsense now is a superb time to arrive. Come over and help me with something.” The large man got down from his wagon, stretching as the fighters watched in surprised fascination at the Gallaeci merchant.
Fedelm looked at Mivraa, then Urith. Both just shrugged their shoulders, unsure of what to do. The fair-haired woman spurred her ossane forward, and the Gallaeci fighters moved for her to pass. When she reached the back of the wagon, they saw her lean over as Atheern spoke with her briefly. The man struggled with a box in the back, then climbed inside. Soon, he handed her several clay mugs to the woman whose face lit up. After getting a few more of the cups, and with both hands full, Fedelm carefully guided her mount back to her group. While she gave the mugs to her comrades, the big man waved over the Gallaeci and did the same. When he finished, Atheern jumped down from his car with a large cup in hand. He came over next to Flacanus who stared at the mug he was given suspiciously.
“I find a good drink makes for better company,” the merchant bellowed to the circle around him “I'm too fat to wander around.” He waved at Urith and those near him, “Come in closer so we can talk.”
With his mug in hand, the Esterblud cautiously directed his mount toward the cart. While he and the others came closer, the fighters in the blue tunics slowly converged around the wagon. Atheern climbed to his seat.
Still separated by a few paces, the two groups waited as the large man pulled out a cigar of ulcath, lighting it from the embers of wick that hung from a wire by his seat.
“Now, let us toast our fallen brothers with my best heathmead,” the man leaned back in his seat. Dutifully, the men raised their mugs while suspicious of what they witnessed. Most of the men only took a swig of the drink.
Atheern looked at Flacanus. “You know I only get the best, drink up. Now, I overheard your dilemma. I would think it is smarter to talk this out since I see bodies already on this field. Don't you agree?”
The leader of the blue-clad men nodded. “Yes, we have a quandary. However, I don't think your drinks will solve the problem.”
The Gallaeci trader laughed loudly. He turned to Urith. “Tell me, Urith. What are your plans for Lyncus? Is he to be put to death by you Esterbluds?”
Urith took another swig of his favorite drink. “No, those in our group have agreed to send Lyncus back to the Citadel. Is this not correct, Deijumb?”
The one-eyed man glance at the Esterblud then nodded. “Yes, it's agreed. As much as we would like his head on a pike, the new ruler of Ynyover should decide this. That is for those who gather in the Citadel.”
“My brother Pehnuwick will have all of the satgerts convene to decide on his fate,” Urith continued. “He is a fair man who will ensure all clans and tribes will be invited to join.”
“Then, my people will say this is using the cover of the new Sacred Overlord to carry out the wishes of the Esterblud.” Flacanus countered. “Such words will not help my cause.”
Urith turned to him. “At Du-Rinell, you and I spoke as honorable fighters. Do you think I no longer follow that same path?”
The man looked back at his mug. “No offense meant. But chaos and bitterness change people's hearts. We cannot go to Uugara without Lyncus.”
“Then, why not bring the Aberffraw to your table?” Mivraa suddenly asked. The men looked at her. She sighed. “It seems simple to me. Have Flacanus and some of his men go with you to the Citadel, they can make sure Lyncus remains under their control. There are more than enough Ynyover and Esterblud fighters to ensure this happens. Flacanus can send the word to the Aberffraw leaders who reside in Uugara, informing them they must send people to the Citadel as part of the agreement. In the meantime, the Gallaeci and the Aberffraw will need to determine how Cahmais will be ruled. That way, everyone will be forced to cooperate on the man’s fate.”
“Make sense to me,” Fedelm interjected, hoping the bloodshed would stop. Narslac quickly agreed as well.
Flacanus looked to his comrades. Suspicion remained in their faces, and some of them shook their heads. It was clear; they would not make such a decision quickly. Atheern blew smoke from his smelly cigar. “Why don't you bring your Gallaeci warriors over to discuss as a group?” The trader offered. “Urith and his team can make sure those Fealharan I see next to the Aberffraw don't accidently remove the head of Lyncus for their koinons. I hear the Malhair guild has more a large bounty on the man.”
After additional discussions, the two sides agreed to the offer from the Gallaeci merchant. Urith and his friends returned to share the news with Brihar and Skart. Neither man appeared happy at the prospect of Cahmais fighters joining them. However, Deijumb pointed out the Gallaeci had no love for Lyncus.
As the two sides talked among themselves during the truce, Atheern drove his cart to the line of Ynyover and Esterblud fighters. He made the same offer of heathmead which the fighters happily took. Not long after that, Flacanus and a few of his men galloped to the warriors holding Lyncus.
“We have made a decision. We'll join with you on your trip to the Citadel. I'll send my men back with Cahmais with instructions one what to tell the Aberffraw.”
There was a mixture of relief and trepidation at the news, but all agreed it beat the alternative.
Urith extended his arm to the Aberffraw after the man slid down from his mount. “Thank you for taking this risk. It is not easy for you.”
“War makes for angry people.” The old fighter told him. “However, I convinced my warriors that we will stand in a position of strength across the table as the ones who control Lyncus.”
“Well, then you better explain to him since he appears to be in the dark,” Brihar came up to Flacanus, nodding to the thin man intently watching them behind a line of Ynyover and Fealharan.
The old fighter gave a slight laugh. “Yes, I just hope the Aberffraw believe he’s still worth something once he is imprisoned at Br-Ynys.” He walked over to give the news to Lyncus and his followers.
“You think you can handle those Fealharan,” Urith spoke under his breath to Brihar. The Gramcle leader considered the question for a moment.
“I think so. Just in case, I’ll make sure that the Gallaeci realize it’s up to the Cahmais fighters to keep Lyncus safe since many want him for their own reasons. That should be incentive to keep the guards watching the guards.”
“You’re a smart man,” Urith said to him. “I thank you for your help. While I was upset you left Wilgam and Oslaf at first, you have shown me there are other options at times. I’m leaving you to finish the trip since I have duties elsewhere.”
“I wish I could join you. I have a couple of things that the gods wouldn’t want to hear from me.” The stout man extended his arm and Urith grasped him by the forearm.
“I’ll make sure they hear that,” the Clovel Destroyer gave Brihar a grin.
~~~
Next, to the Exyts stream which fed the Sky Realm springs and fountains throughout the temples, the clay figures of an inanimate army stood. As the spirits of Haligulf got closer, even they were impressed by the work of Ecarca. When they stood next to the clay statues, the warriors could feel the energy coming from the nearby water. Dughorm came near the first fighter of clay, it features, like the others, modeled after the arrogant god who built them. The Sybil of the Gods defiantly pushed the statue over. It fell headfirst into the water.
“Just remember the verse that Caestia told you. Once you walk into the stream, you will live again,” the old fighter said to the others grouped around him. He entered the water and chanted the words over and over again. A glow enveloped him and his ghostly form twisted and turned, becoming a blue ball that hovered over the statue. Slowly the ball descended into the lifeless clay. After a long pause, the figure began to shiver, then jerked and shuddered. Suddenly, the powerful arms of the statue pushed the upper body out of the water, gasping for air.
Dughorm was alive in a new body.
Coughing and sputtering from some of the water he breathed in, the clay man lifted himself to his knees as the spirits closed around him, amazed at what they witnessed. Slowly he stood, forced to quickly relearn how to use a physical body. Dughorm moved his limbs, enjoying the sensations of the sun warming his stone body.
“I wouldn't try swimming with this type of body,” he joked grimly.
“How long will it last?” The spirit of Guthlaf asked. “I have much that I owe Urith and Mivraa.” Both Uolven and Kirowan slid in closer to listen to the exchange.
Dughorm shrugged his shoulders as he looked at his naked form. “Given the coming onslaught I expect from Kriell; I don't think we can expect to survive, even in these stronger shells.” He looked at Urith’s friend. “Don’t worry, the man with the Skool will find a way to set things right.”
“By the gods, don’t thrust all the weight upon my son.” Uolven grew angry. “It’s upon us as well. For too long, we’ve been the fools for following gods that aren’t fit to be dockes and calwards. It’s time to take Duwdamon down a peg or two.”
Dughorm smiled. “My friend, I meant nothing of the sort. Your son and his friends have done more than I believed possible. You know as well as I do, he has the Fates with him. I want to keep it that way.”
“Aye, he’s right about the Fates following the boy,” Kirowan agreed as he remembered his first encounter with the young warrior so many seasons before. “Come on Uolven, let’s give our young ones a chance to fix what we couldn’t.” The old Esterblud leader nodded as he went to the next statue, pushing Caestia aside.
The Sybil, grinned when he saw what happened. He turned to the souls still floating around him. “Hurry, you need to get into your new bodies. Then, we go to the temples to arm ourselves.”
Soon, the spirits of the greatest warriors of Kamin spread across the shoreline, each finding a statue for their new home. Soon a line of walking sculptures followed the former oracle to the gods. The clay copies of the vain god who created the statues appeared identical at first glance. However, when the spirits looked at each other, they could recognize each individual brother in arms. Heptarc’s scarred face, Kirowan’s large ears, even Uolven’s disfigured nose showed through the mold their spirits were encased in. As each clay man relearned how to use their new bodies, they marched along to the Sky Realm temples. The line moved in singles and pairs, each spirit now energized from the Exyts Spring water along with a sense of urgency. While they traveled, old comrades calmly talked about stories they recalled from the Skalds. Tales passed down over the ages concerning the end of the Guardians from the Skool came to life. When the fighters passed over the stone bridge into the main temple complex, the reeds which lined the water suddenly came alive with excited voices. The sprites came out of hiding, whispering among themselves at the unique sight which passed them. These spirits of the forgotten ordinary mortals who once inhabited Kamin recognized the clay men, giving cheer to the Haligulf warriors. Seeing a chance for deliverance from the chaos and betrayal of Sky Gods, the sprites rose up with prayers. Soon, the elemental spirits would leave the realm to spread the message to the human realm.
When the line of ancient fighters reached the inside of the Temple of Aedes, where a giant statue of the Sky God stood, Dughorm was already pushing back the massive doors to the long unused weapons vault. Even he was surprised by the strength his new form possessed since no mortal alone could have opened the vault. Inside, the warriors found dusty armor, spears and shields stacked high. Long before the Sky Realm gods, the Guardians created these instruments of war for their demigods. The tools of battle and slaughter against the mortals on Kamin would now be used to stop the Guardians.
Heptarc took a heavy shield and long sword from Dughorm and smiled. “Now, these weapons will be used for justice against the gods.”
Caestia, now a clay man as well, stepped next to the great warrior, taking a short sword and breastplate which were covered in a silver sheen. “Just don't forget we will be outnumbered by hordes coming from the underworld. The Vanth has been busy for a while.”
Nearby, bitter laughter broke out from Uolven. “Now is the time to set things right with Caruun and Alrpan after seasons of torment. Actita's head will be mounted on the wall of this temple if I have my way.”
While the fighters pulled on their armor, some of them went into the temple and pulled down the curtains. They quickly fashioned robes using their daggers, the blue cloth reminding them of the finest wools tunics they wore in life. They took the clothes to the armory where they distributed to the other clay men. After making crude belts on which to hang the swords and dagger sheaths, the warriors pulled on the golden breastplates. Silver helmets showing the plumage of red feathers along the crest were passed around. However, the spirit men quickly cut off the adornments, loathing the idea of following the Guardians symbol. The men of clay slowly spilled out into the main temple, adjusting their garments and armor. Heptarc and Dughorm moved from under the massive statue of Duwdamon, walking among the warriors. Now they would wait for the next morning.
~~~
The small group of riders reached the fork to Yns Cearcal as the sun sank in the eastern sky. No one argued with Narslac who suggested they make camp before going to the Great Circle. The silence from the rest of the men and women was silent agreement at his idea. Bruised and battered from the fighting, they still carried the dry blood of enemies as well as their own. When they pulled off the main road, Urith noticed a campfire in the distance.
“Go ahead and make camp. I'm going to see what travelers we have nearby,” he told the group, spurring his ossane forward. The warrior noticed that Fedelm remained with him as he rode further down the path. As they got close, they could see a small cart and two people by the roaring fire.
“Hello in the camp!” The warrior yelled out in Gallaeci, the language used in the area. He assumed the people were traders.
“Hello, Urith, son of Uolven. Come and join us,” a voice replied in Esterblud. Urith gave Fedelm a confused glance.
“I think I know that voice,” he whispered.
As they moved into the light, Urith recognized the portly little man wearing a red hooded cape.
“By the gods, Joclac! Is that really you? What are you doing here?”
The man stood as the two riders slid off their mounts. A blond woman rose with Joclac.
“Soma, you're here as well? Where is the child? Guthlaf should be a warrior by now.” Urith smiled at his old friends as he stepped toward them. He grasped Joclac by the forearm. Then, Soma hugged Urith which caught Fedelm by surprise.
“It's good to see you as well, my friend. Come and sit with us for a moment. Then, we can call over your comrades.” The round man told them.
The Esterblud shook his head. Like normal, he thought. The seer probably knew more about Urith's journey than he did. Urith introduced Fedelm.
“Fedelm, this is Joclac and his wife, Soma. You have to watch out for him, he's one of the greatest seers you've never heard of. I know I never spoke about these two, but he prefers it that way.”
As the woman looked at the unassuming man with his broad nose and chin beard, she recognized the intensity coming from the man's bright eyes.
The man’s wife reminded her of Henther, with her green, bater-like eyes. She was quite lovely, about the same height as Fedelm with auburn hair almost copper colored. Regal and thin, Soma carried herself with quiet confidence. Yet, something in the woman's manner hinted at a raw toughness inside.
“Again, you have overstated my abilities.” The portly man sat on a log with his wife joining him. “You've been traveling with a seer like Fedelm for this long; you would think something would get through that thick skull. She's told you this many times. The visions of a hakra must be interpreted.” The man smiled at her while she sat across from the couple. Urith struggled to sit next to her, his leg still bothering him.
“What a minute, how would?” Fedelm stopped herself in mid-sentence. She never heard of anyone able to retell conversations between people. Obviously, Joclac was a strong hakra with his insight and abilities.
“Don't mind him,” Soma told Fedelm before she turned to Urith. “To answer your question stays with Joclac’s brother and he is doing well. The boy is nearly as large as you now and he's ready to be a warrior.” She paused, then looked at Fedelm again. “My husband is just showing off. Joclac likes to impress cute girls.”
“Only you, my darling.” The man's eyes brightened as he reached over to tickle his wife and she laughed lightly. He noticed the look Urith gave him and stopped. “Yes, I see the time is not right for such trivialities.”
Pulling an erba skin bag filled with heathmead from behind him, then He took a large drink before he passed it to Urith.
“You are rightly surprised that I'm here. In fact, I had no plans on coming this way, but the separate paths we follow have suddenly aligned.”
“How so?” The warrior had asked before he drank, handing the bag to Fedelm. She took a drink, trying to keep from shivering at the taste, catching a glance at Soma who smiled knowingly. Something in the way, Joclac's wife, looked at her and Urith bothered her.
“Spanca stopped by today. She told me that she waits at Yns Cearcal.” Joclac continued. “However, that is only one door of two you must close. I assume you must know that by now?” He paused and saw the confusion in Urith's face as his answer.
“I see not. Well, let's get to the basics. The Skalds haven't sung of such things for many ages, so I'm assuming you don't know the origin of the Great Circle. There were three gateways between the three realms. They are the only places where the gods, demigods, and humans may enter and leave directly to any of the realms. These places are the only gateways with a direct path to the temples of the sky and underworld.” He stopped to gather his thoughts.
“I've heard of such things during my training in the Citadel, but we were told they are just myths,” Fedelm spoke up.
The short man smiled briefly. “It's not something the satgerts are eager to explain. Why go to a priest when you can go directly to the gods? That's not to say it's an easy or risk-free journey, even before the chaos now.”
“It's always in threes,” Urith noted under his breath.
“You noticed. This is important. Three is the Triad which makes things stable in Kamin. Well, it would have been once the Guardians were removed. However, Heptarc made a mistake. The fool didn't fix things at the time, and we're still paying for it.” The man took another drink, nonplussed by the shocked look coming from the two sitting across the fire from him.
“Dear, you always do that. Tell them about the tree circles,” Soma reminded her husband.
“Right! Well, you have Yns Cearcal, Yns Garraid, and Yns Rinell which made up the only places on Kamin where the Underworld and the Sky Realm meet with our world.”
“Wait a minute; I've seen gods coming from behind twisted lellowtere trees?” Urith stopped him.
Joclac nodded. “Yes, the gods created a quick way to come to the human realm. Did you ever notice how the roots of the trees look like exact copies of the branches? The gods may come and go from such gateways but only from the realm where they call home. It’s like the sidhera, which you know about. The gods and their children can come and go from those portals, but humans can only enter with help. Once inside, humans must be escorted out, or they will remain trapped forever.”
“What about the circles?” Fedelm tried to get them back to the point.
“Yes, that's right,” Joclac removed his pipe from his tunic. “You traveled to Du-Rinell, and you saw what was left. Where you found the first bit of the Skool was at Yns Rinell. Heptarc accidently split apart the weapon during the battle with the Guardians. He was on the right path, but he didn't see it. When they realized Heptarc would stop the Guardians, other entities from the void appeared. While the entities had less power than the Guardians, their lies convinced him to take on the Guardians at Du-Rinell. Duwdamon understood it would leave two places open for them to split the realms to be used as they pleased. Once they betrayed Heptarc, the Skool broke apart in the battle, and they made the world which was somewhat better. Since they have power over the elements of Kamin, it was not hard to have humans begin to believe the creatures were gods.”
Urith shook his head. “So, lies and betrayals led us to this. Seems like those gods forgot about the first ones, the Guardians?”
Joclac put the empty pipe in his mouth, nodding.
“This means what to me?”
“That means you must close the last two gateways. Only then can the chaos stop.” The seer told him.
“Why didn't Dughorm say this?” The warrior tried not to sound too skeptical.
“You don't understand, but the visions I receive have been extraordinarily vivid. This is unusual which gives me pause on how much I can reveal. Dughorm may know more or less, I’m not sure. But he must know you will be fighting those gods not yet consumed by Kriell as well as the old Guardian himself. Such a fight may call for supreme sacrifices. Those you care deeply about could stand in your way.” Joclac leaned closer to his friend.
“When you left Dughorm’s home village of Ynysbeag, he already knew it would die at the hands of Satres. Now, ask yourself this question. Why didn't he tell you? Because he is your friend and would gladly sacrifice yourself to help your friends. As difficult as this may sounds, sometimes being the champion is doing what's right for more than your family or your best friend. That may mean sacrificing others.”
Joclac went quiet, knowing Urith faced problematic views at what he was told. The Clovel Destroyer came from an upbringing where honor and sacrifice often meant dying to achieve immortality. It wasn’t second nature for the man to just let others die when they could possibly be saved. He glanced over to Fedelm and saw how she watched the scarred man. It told him his visions about her were accurate as well.
“You're telling me that my burden will become heavier. It’s one thing to kill a creature whose soul was mangled by the gods. It’s another to say to me that people might suffer or worse for me to survive. Already, Fedelm and Mivraa have suffered terribly for this cursed Skool.” The warrior shook his head. The conversation reminded him too much of the night that Dughorm told him about King Penhda’s betrayal of Urith and his crew sailing to Ynyover.
“You have been hurt as well, my friend.” Joclac reminded him.
“That doesn’t matter.” Urith sighed, standing up to allow himself to pace while he thought about his options. “Not only must I try to destroy gods; I must extinguish the gateways to these realms.”
“What becomes of the realms when this happens?” Soma asked. Joclac looked at his wife and just shook his head.
The giant warrior paused from his pacing. “They will no longer exist. I know this, not from visions but I know it nevertheless. Tell me where this other place is at.”
“Yns Garraid is an isolated place in the Mythroloy Mountains, far past the place where Mivraa was taken. It is near the lands of the unknown and a place where Ruggla resides. He is not a friend of the Sky Realm or the underworld as I understand it.” Joclac seemed troubled by his statement, but Urith let it go.
“I guess it's the Great Circle first. If I survive that, I can worry about this other place later.” The warrior told Joclac who nodded.
The prophet sighed as he handed Urith the bag of heathmead again, “Exactly the correct strategy. Now, that is enough for you to think about. Go to your friends. You're welcome to bring them back and make camp here if you like. In the morning, we will join you as you go to Yns Cearcal. I've always wanted to see it.”
The next morning, the entire group followed the Clovel Destroyer as he led them to the gateway. Urith rode his mount next to Joclac, who borrowed Fedelm's ossane. Mivraa and Narslac were close behind, trying to keep up with the seer's conversation. The demigoddess was upset with Urith for not explaining what Joclac revealed during the conversation the night before. Narslac agreed, but he was more interested in learning about the reclusive seer whose reputation was known by many in Esterblud. Soma and Fedelm were inside the erba driven cart.
At first, the hakra was upset for being asked to give up her mount, thinking it was an intentional slight. After a while, she realized Urith was only trying to catch up with his friend as they rode together. During her conversation with Soma, Fedelm discovered how much the handsome woman knew about Urith. There was something between them in the past, she was sure. Her interest peaked at the idea of understanding the Clovel Destroyer. Fedelm asked about Urith’s past, and the woman replied with unexpected candor about her past with the warrior. Fedelm was shocked to find the devoted wife of Joclac was once a slave to the notorious Regiussan warlord known as Reppir. Soma went on to tell the hakra of the Esterblud’s journey with her back to Esterblud where she met her husband.
“It sounds like Urith,” Fedelm replied. “He’s got a knack for getting into trouble.”
Soma smiled, remembering her first ship crossing with the giant man. “Yes, he does have that way. You know his first wife died at the hands of the gods, of course. I think that was why he’s never decided to try marriage again. When I knew him, I quickly realized he could not break himself of his anger and an almost desperate need for vengeance and violence. It was a death wish in a way.”
The red hair woman lowered her voice. “I’ve been watching you. While he has his temper, he’s grown into a better man now. You could do far worse with more handsome men.”
The blond turned red. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m here to get Urith through this. Besides, he still thinks of Mivraa.”
Soma shook her head. “I know him far better than you can imagine. Joclac told me about the vision on the mountain when you held Mivraa. He also saw what she has done to herself in need for vengeance. Don't be a fool. I saw the way that man looks at you. It was the same look I once hoped would be for me. Urith is protective of you, not the demigoddess. That should tell you all you need.”
Fedelm couldn’t argue the idea, but something else bothered her. “Why are you telling me this?”
Joclac’s wife sighed as she watched erbas steadily slogging along the dusty trail. She looked to ensure nobody was listening to the women in the cart. “Urith was good to me and believe in him like you do. However, he will not come out of the hard exterior he carries. Trust me when I say this, you will need to push inside, don't wait for him. That is the one piece of advice I can give you. Trust me, I know this from experience. For all of his grunts, when he makes a choice, he cares deeply. However, he’ll seldom show it. The ways of men are difficult to understand.”
The blond hakra wanted to ask more, but she recognized the scenery. They were at Yns Cearcal.
“I’ll take your advice, providing you will let me ask more in the future. Is it a deal?”
Soma, lost in the past, absently nodded. The riders in front of them suddenly pointed to the entrance to the Great Circle. The caravan of riders turned single file through the narrow opening between the impenetrable brush. Just inside, Spanca was waiting and smiled when Urith came in sight.
“The scarred man is ready?” She asked, and Urith nodded.
Mivraa pulled next to the other demigoddess who pointed to the manicured brush.
“Leave the ossanes here. The altar will scare them. I have already heard an alarm from the sprites who are warning of something wrong in the Sky Realm.”
The wagon was too large to fit through, leaving Fedelm and Soma to walk inside. When they passed through the opening, both noticed the naked green woman next to Urith as the man dismounted from his ossane.
“Urith continues to find interesting people,” Soma joked as they came closer to the group of riders.
The hakra next to her smiled thinly, “yeah, one demigoddess after another.”
~~~
Dughorm stood before the oversized statue of Duwdamon inside the Temple. Filling more and more at home inside his clay figure, he looked over the tribute to a vainglorious entity with a frown. The sun was at its zenith, and the rest of the clay warriors were below in the vaults; waiting for the action they felt would be coming. As the Sybil thought about the last night's visions, he knew Urith and his friends were close. He also knew the enemies were just as close.
“What are you supposed to be?” The cold voice of Duwdamon came from behind Dughorm. He twirled the thin yellow mustache that hung down both sides of his mouth past his chin.
The old warrior turned to see the Sky God and his son standing beside one of the massive columns. “I'm the same person, just in a new shell. You see, I've grown tired of this realm and your foolishness. Kriell is coming so someone has to stop it.”
“Father, I told you he was up to something,” the god of the soil whined.
Duwdamon nodded as he floated closer to the Sybil. “I don't know what a human spirit might think, but one clay figure with a few measly weapons is hardly a threat to a god, let alone one of the Guardians. Besides, I can handle Kriell now.”
“Oh, so now you believe me. I should be pleased that the great Duwdamon finally agrees with me.” The sarcasm dripped with his words.
“You must think yourself quite intelligent. But soon you will know my wrath.” Suddenly the sky grew dark and ominous.
“That would not be wise,” Heptarc stepped next to the two gods. His long halberd pointed at them. Other clay warriors appeared from the vault, the noise of their armor echoing inside the temple.
“I could destroy you with a bolt of lightning,” the Sky God's eye's narrowed.
“That might be true, but only if you bring this place down upon you as well. Besides, who will fight off the underworld? You and your dimwit son?” Uolven, his weapon at the ready, stood next to Dughorm.
The deity pulled out his godfire whip. “Kriell has no need to come to the Sky Realm. You fools cannot see that I've already made my agreement with him. He can do as he pleases with the human realm. The Guardian has no ambition for this realm.”
“Then, you're a delusional fool,” Dughorm gave a bitter laugh. “Did Kriell mention he gave your wife to the last Vanth for breeding? And what happens to the Sky Realm without the tributes from the human realm? Vengeance is all the Guardians ever knew. I find it amusing that you would believe them now.” The warrior saw by the expression on Duwdamon’s face that he wasn't surprised at the news. Clearly, the god was more concerned about the human usurpers inside his realm.
Suddenly, the sound of a thousand spirits screeching alarm came into the temple. Magnified by the acoustics, the noise caused the clay men to hold their hands over their ears. Almost immediately after, a roaring blast came to them as the gods and spirits looked out from the temple. Across the plaza, they watch as a white structure dedicated to the Sky Goddess no longer stood. Collapsed roof of stone sent up circles of gray and white dust. Coming out of the dust, hordes of underworld monsters scrambled across the stone plaza. The creatures were coming toward the Temple where Duwdamon stood.
“I believe you said Kriell had no ambition on this realm,” Dughorm told the Sky God smugly. Duwdamon didn't respond as he watched his world falling apart. The look of disbelief on his face caused the old Sybil to shake his head. He wondered how they could have ever believed such creatures would protect them.
“We have our war. Now I say this is the perfect terrain for us,” Uolven roared. Heptarc agreed, immediately ordering the clay fighters into a defensive formation. The heroes of Haligulf instinctively fanned out into lines using the top rows of stairs to the temple. Experience told them it was far better to play defense from a higher position. They waited as waves of creatures pressed forward, trying to climb the steep stairs which led up to the shrine from three sides. In the mass of underworld monsters, the warriors saw crubas, beorhs, and even the dreaded Clovels. Uolven, Dughorm, and Heptarc each took a side to lead the defenses. They walked along the lines, reminding the clay men of the weaknesses of these creatures. The finest fighters in Kamin history took no offense at the reminders coming from their comrades. Instead, the spirits of clay joked among themselves, or natural rivals placed wagers on who might be the first to perish. No one knew if their souls might continue or not.
The first wave of beorhs reached the lower steps, quickly scrambling up the stone steps. With a combined roar, the clay warriors fell into the attackers. The men of mud struck hard at the first wave of creatures, decimating them with practiced ease. Black blood of the monsters quickly covered the steps with the skeletal bodies. For their part, the fighter’s blood spilled as well, gray and slick. The pain was felt by all sides in the bitter battle. As spears, swords, and axes did massive damage on the monsters, the claws, teeth, and beaks cut chunks out of the clay men. Uolven swung his long sword through one of the beorhs, and the body fall apart. However, a brief burst of blue light remained momentarily before quickly ascending into the ether above. The others in battle soon saw the same thing as creatures were slaughtered during the fighting. One of the clay warriors, overwhelmed by the crubas who eviscerated him, screamed a final oath and Dughorm caught a glimpse of the man's blue ball of spirit suddenly disappear into the heavens.
As the savage fighting between the righteous and the profane occurred, screams and chatter of inhuman creatures mixed with the primal cries of warriors creating a deafening roar across the temple complex. Suddenly, the sky went black, and light bolts spit out of the clouds. The flashes of electricity struck down groups of the creatures as the waves came across the plaza. When the bolts missed, the blast of energy still hit the ground, sending chunks of rock across the area which maimed anything nearby. Dughorm glanced back to see the Sky God gesturing with his hands and arms, trying to strike down the beasts with his weakened powers. The deity’s thin face was lit up at the destruction he was causing. Next to him, Ecarca tried to replicate his father's success by opening a huge crack in the ground just in front of the second wave of attackers. Many creatures fell into the void. With a clap of Ecara’s hands, the opening suddenly shut, crushing the unfortunates inside and a line of little blue balls of energy drifted away.
Coming out of the ruins where the temple to Unis once stood, Kriell watched over the battle. Transformed into the image of Caruun, the underworld deity was pleased with what he saw. The last two gods left for him to devour were surrounded just outside the temple of Duwdamon. It would be delicious irony for him to satisfy his vengeance upon the spot where the Sky God worshiped himself. The Guardian ordered the leader of the beorhs to send in more of the hordes coming from the fields. He would overwhelm the defenders with his masses of creatures.
“Make sure your monsters don't harm the two gods. They are mine,” he told the leader of his hordes.
Immediately the beorh leader jumped down from his perch next to his master. Reppir formed his monsters into crude lines. The hideous spirit chattered out the orders, occasionally striking those of his army who failed to move quickly enough. More of the beasts came from the fields where they already committed cruelties upon the few remaining sprites who signaled their warnings. As servants of Haligulf and the rest of the Sky Realm, the elemental sprite’s bodies had form and substance which the hordes of beorhs raped and ripped apart. Like the young and old innocents caught up in human wars, the servants to the gods could not stop their slaughter and their remains were scattered among the rocks and grass.
Reppir moved forward with his legion of skeletal creatures, sending the Clovel monsters scrambling forward to disrupt the first lines of the clay warriors. The white, hairy beasts with sharp horns ambled along swiftly. With long, saber-like front canines and jagged teeth, the monster was a walking nightmare, nearly impervious almost any weapon. The third wave fell into the mass of Haligulf warriors with a ferocity that pushed through the first lines of defenders. A fighter named Tarqirl fell under a Clovel who ripped off the shrieking man's arms in an instant. As the warrior’s soul ascended, the old fighter Kirowan embedded his sword into the creature's eye socket while Dughorm swiftly removed the monster's head. A cruba struck at the leg armor of the Sybil causing him to back up the steps, hitting it with blows from his shield. Beorhs rushed at Uolven who embedded a spear into one after pulling it from a dead body of another lying at his feet. Another creature tore at the man's face, getting close enough for the old Esterblud to smell the rot. The clay man thrust his dagger up through the creature’s chest, lifting the beast from the stone step. Uolven sent the dying body into other monsters rushing up.
About to enter the fray again, Dughorm suddenly realized the lightning bolts had ceased. Quickly looking back, he saw Duwdamon staring into the distance at the bridge which crossed the Exyts stream. The god's face was filled with fury. Turning, the old hakra saw a small group running toward the fighting, and he smiled.
“Urith and the Skool are coming,” Dughorm yelled out to those around him as he rushed up near the standing gods.
“Focus on the underworld.” The clay man shouted at the god, pointing to the monsters that were nearly breaching several lines of defenders. Duwdamon gave him a glare, but almost immediately a shattering blast came from the sky. String near the temple, the lightning sent bodies of creatures flying into the air.
Not far from the explosion occurred; the small group of heavily armed human fighters came into sight. Urith and Mivraa crossed the bridge first with Narslac following close behind. Spread across the plaza before the two fighters was a sea of underworld monsters. At the top of a temple, they saw the warrior copies fighting the losing battle. The underworld creatures continued their push, crawling across their destroyed comrades. In places, they were nearly through the final lines of the defenders. Steps of stone closest to the group were damaged from the latest lightning strike. As the humans tried to grasp what they witnessed, their presence was immediately noticed by a small group of crubas who started croaking out warnings as they attacked. While the monsters were quickly cut down by the three experienced fighters, any surprise was lost.
Reppir, now in the middle of the plaza, instantly diverted some of his remaining horde toward the small group. The beorhs joined with their brother monsters and swiftly raced toward the humans. Urith recognized the danger immediately. Leading his friends to the temple steps where they could defend themselves, the human invaders ran as fast as they could while trying to avoid the bodies that littered their way. Reaching the steps of the temple, Urith slashed his way through the monsters still alive from the lightning blast. When Urith struck one of the monsters with his shield, the expected shock did not happen. Suddenly, the man grew worried as he hit the creature with his sword. Fortunately, the dazed creatures scarcely put up a defense as Urith and his group to cut them down. While he fought, the man noticed the blue balls of light which suddenly ascended into the sky with each dropping creature.
Mivraa waded into the creatures with relish, skillfully embedding her crystal spear into their backs as she climbed the stairs. Those who turned to her were impaled and thrown over her shoulder like toys as the demigoddess fought with a fanatical strength. The woman recognized the two Sky Gods at the top of the temple and pushed hard to reach them.
For his part, Narslac was not far behind, hacking down monsters who tried run up behind them. His battle ax was dripping with the black blood of the creatures. The man’s face showed his excitement at the fight.
When Urith finally reached the first line of clay warriors, realized all of the fighter’s faces were copies of Ecarca which confused him at first. Then, he heard the voice of his father.
“It’s good to see you, Urith.” A fighter stepped forward. His arm was gone. The rest of Uolven’s body and armor were covered in black gore.
Urith instantly recognized the shadow of his dead father’s face in the statue, and he was about to say something.
“Look out! They’re nearly on you,” Dughorm yelled out. At approximately the same time, Mivraa yelled out a war cry followed by Narslac who joined her.
The Esterblud turned to see the demigoddess stab her spear into a beast, only to slip on the steps, taking a hard fall. Behind her, a wave of beorhs and crubas came up the steps at them, their chattering noise deafening.
Urith held the Shield of Skool toward the oncoming monsters, bracing himself for the coming explosion. Deep inside, he was worried if the shield might fail in the realm now.
“Da Umca Mivwar,” he said, waiting for pain that would come to his injured arm. Then, he felt the heat of the amulet on his chest inside the chain mail, and the blast of blinding light shot out from the Skool. The white flash instantly evaporated anything in its path, shooting far through the horde and into the plaza in a straight line. Urith yelled from the intense agony. Despite bracing himself on steps, the power of the light pushed him back, and his boots began slipping on the gore. Instinctively, Mivraa ran beside him and stood behind the man. In shock at what he saw, Uolven joined the demigoddess, helping to keep the Skool steady.
The deadly stream of energy hit untold numbers of creatures as the three people focused the beam down the steps and across the plaza. The ground shook when struck by the ray, sending up huge chunks of stone while the monsters instinctively tried to throw up their arms in defense before they were obliterated. The significant gaps were suddenly opened in the lines of creatures and the sky lit up from the orbs rising above. More of the beast filled in the gaps and those creatures on the other sides of the temples continued pushing forward, starting to overwhelm the defenders. Clay warriors near the Esterblud human while staying behind the Skool’s beam. Dughorm ordered the living statues to reform their lines along the side of Urith.
Recognizing what they were doing, Urith forced his weapon’s damaging light closer to the nearby fighting, attempting to cut down more of the creatures near the base of the temple. Below him, the man did not see Fedelm and Spanca who were running over the bridge toward him. The green woman wore only a golden breastplate and carried a small shield and sword. Likewise, the blond hakra had her short sword out. However, the sound coming from blast overwhelmed their desperate screams of warning as they suddenly recognized the threat behind the trio. Two gods near the top of the temple.
Duwdamon stealthily descended the steps along with Ecarca. The menacing look of the gods revealed their intent. Ecarca kept telling his father to strike them with lightning. However, the god of the sky shook his head. They would taste his vengeance. Godfire whip in hand, the deity moved in close. An instant later, the trio holding the Skool felt the whip wrap around them. Instantly, jolts of godfire electricity surged through the three people. Mivraa immediately recognized the pain, falling to her knees and sliding away on the steps. Uolven’s mineral body instantly dissolved, the power overwhelming the spell which kept his spirit. The soul cried out to his son, but Urith only caught a flash of blue light when he briefly glanced back. The orb ascended skyward, leaving one person wrapped inside the whip.
Focused on holding the Skool’s beam of energy, the giant Esterblud can only take the punishment. He felt the whip release only to strike him again. With an evil smile, Duwdamon yanked back hard on the godfire whip, and Urith felt like he would be cut in two. Nearly unable to control the Skool as the deity pulled, the shield’s beam moved across a line of clay warriors fighting with monsters, instantly dissolving all in its path. Mivraa tried to attack the Sky God, but Ecarca intervened. Using the last of his depleted power, the ground beneath the demigoddess rumbled, and the steps began to fall away under her. She fell down several steps, landing hard on a pile of stone. Unfortunately for the god, Narslac came at him from the side. While trying to avoid the falling stones steps, the one-armed man flung his battle ax. The weapon struck Ecarca in the leg, sending the deity down upon the rock steps, screaming in agony. Fedelm made it up the stairs to reach Mivraa, reaching down to help the demigoddess to stand.
“Forget me, help Urith get that whip off of him,” the goddess of Haligulf yelled, pushing the hakra away. Instead, Mivraa went after her father.
The blond woman instantly ran at the Esterblud who was visibly in agony, barely holding on. As Fedelm ran up the few steps, the woman remembered the amulet Imenal gave her. She put both of her hands on the Helios stone.
“Teinidh cadhla,” she shouted as she reached Urith. Suddenly, the whip’s power was gone, and the beam of destruction from the Skool stopped. The giant human collapsed. Fedelm barely caught him and struggled to them from falling down the steps. Together, they watched Mivraa and Spanca attacking Duwdamon. The remaining clay warriors went after the god of the realm as well.
The Sky God rose from the steps, suddenly sending down a bolt of lightning which struck near the two demigoddesses. Both tumbled away, quickly regaining their feet as they continued the attack. Duwdamon stared down at his offspring with contempt. Dughorm picked up a spear near his foot and flung it at the sky god. Unfortunately, he missed the moving deity.
“You dare challenge me. I will end this once and for all!”
Struggling to his knees, Urith noticed his opportunity. He pointed his shield toward the flying god. Fedelm told him to stop, but the Esterblud repeated the words which unleashed the weapon again. The discharge nearly pushed him down the stone stairs. Fedelm locked her arms around him, trying to use her small body as a counterweight to the force. Both slid across the slippery surface of black and gray.
Duwdamon saw the white beam nearly strike him, and he tried to fly out of the way. However, the energy of the Skool did remove some of the god’s power, and the deity fell to the steps below. His human form began to fade. His appearance became the form the creature held inside the Great Void. Duwdamon’s face turned skeletal with a large beak and deep sunk red eyes of evil intent. His thin arms and legs were sinewy like a bird, the legs ended with clawed feet.
Mivraa, spear held aloft, rushed at her prone father who used his remaining energy in his defense. At the same time, Urith focused the Skool’s deadly ray toward the creature called Duwdamon. Suddenly, a lightning bolt shot down. The bolt from the sky intersected with the beam of light nearly on top of the Sky God. The massive burst of energies combined above the steps of the temple and sent out a shockwave of light and power. The Sky realm blast was larger than anything ever witnessed or experienced on Kamin.