SOUTH OF MUDENA DEL-EDHA
The southern cliffs of Semjaza’s city disappeared behind the Iryllurym. Below, grassy plains stretched all the way to the coast of the Great Waters. A faint trail of disturbed vegetation passed beneath the angels as they tracked the former Pri-Rada. Far ahead, only a few miles before the forests of Murakszhug, something was moving over the land. It was only visible for erratic moments between patches of mist rising from the earth.
“Is he riding something?” Nuathel called out.
Sariel turned his head. “His hunting beast. Some abomination the Myndarym shaped for him.”
Nuathel nodded. “We’ll take it out from under him. The rest is up to you.”
Sariel looked back to the south and squinted as the Iryllurym pulled ahead and began their descent. He dropped into formation behind them, but allowed them to create some distance. Less than a minute later, the winged angels caught up with Semjaza.
The creature beneath him was powerful and fast, propelling itself and its oversized master on eight long, muscular legs. Its elongated head and snout were topped with a mane of chestnut hair which matched its fluttering tail.23
Fim-Rada Nuathel split his Iryllurym into two groups which spread apart from each other as they approached the flanks of the retreating commander. Dropping to within a foot of the waving grass, they approached fast and silent from behind. With vaepkir extended to their sides, they cut the legs from underneath the unfortunate beast in a rapid succession of glancing blows.
The animal instantly dropped to the ground and tumbled, end-over-end, while Semjaza dove sideways and did the same.
Sariel pulled up and slowed to a hover before dropping to the ground.
Ahead, the grass was parted into a wake behind the steaming body of the flailing creature. Blood was scattered everywhere from the severed limbs. To the right, the dark outline of the Pri-Rada rose from the grass. Shrouded in a drifting patch of mist, his condition was unknown. But judging by his unhindered movements and the fact that he still held both a shield and a spear, Sariel guessed that he was not injured by the fall. In fact, he appeared to have expected it.
Slowly, the mist passed to the southeast.
Semjaza’s massive form remained still. Standing a full head taller than the typical Anduar soldier, he towered head-and-shoulders over Sariel. The burning embers of his eyes were fixed on Sariel.
The returning Iryllurym dropped to the field on all sides, forming a perimeter of two hundred feet to enclose the pair of combatants. The wailing sound of the dying creature came to an abrupt stop as one of the winged angels put the abomination out of its misery.
Semjaza didn’t even flinch. He just stood with vandrekt and skoldur hanging at his sides. His body was tense, ready, but unmoving.
“The last time we spoke, I made you a promise.” Sariel’s voice seemed to disappear into the vast openness of the plains. He removed his helmet and cast it aside, so that Semjaza could see him clearly.
“… if you didn’t release my woman, I would bring your kingdom to an end.”
Semjaza quickly brought his shield up and burst forward into a run. Lunging, he thrust his spear at Sariel’s chest.
Sariel pivoted to the side and diverted the attack with his left blade. The sound of clanging metal rang out over the grass.
Semjaza came forward again, stabbing repeatedly as he advanced.
Sariel quickly blocked each left-handed strike, moving backward with each one.
Again Semjaza lunged forward and stabbed.
This time Sariel stepped to the right of the vandrekt and brought his vaepkir across to parry the attack. In the same motion, he brought his right forewing around and drove the carpal joint over Semjaza’s outstretched arm and into his face. An audible smack accompanied the impact.
The Pri-Rada flinched at the surprise counter-attack and stumbled backward a few steps.
Sariel instantly surged forward and followed with a left cross, running his forearm blade across Semjaza’s exposed ribcage.
Immediately, the massive Anduar commander brought his shield around from the right side of his body and slammed it into Sariel.
Sariel was stunned and thrown backward by the force of the blow. Before he had time to recover, a sharp strike glanced off his bladed forearm and tore through the flesh of his upper arm. The pain brought him back to his senses immediately. Seeing the next spear thrust coming, Sariel dodged left and grabbed the shaft of the spear. As Semjaza pulled it back, Sariel rode the momentum and jumped forward, bringing his left blade over the top of Semjaza’s shield.
But the Anduar was too quick and strong, quickly ducking below the attack and using the momentum and the leverage of his shield to throw Sariel over his shoulder.
Unable to control himself, Sariel drifted twenty feet through the air before crashing to the ground. The wind was knocked from his lungs and he struggled to get his feet beneath him.
Semjaza was on him instantly, following the throw with a running jab.
On instinct, Sariel ducked under the spear and rolled forward, striking with his left forewing to take the Anduar’s legs from underneath him. But the blow only caused Semjaza to lose his balance just long enough for Sariel to get to his feet.
Now, the two enemies faced each other, both breathing heavily.
Semjaza’s face and chest were covered in the blood that flowed from his nose. And he was also bleeding heavily from the cut on the left side of his abdomen.
Sariel’s right arm was covered in red, as well, and dripping from the elbow. His face felt numb and he was sure he’d broken some ribs.
Before this fight, Sariel had been confident in the advantage of his speed. But the Anduar commander was nearly as fast, and much stronger. As Sariel studied his opponent, Semjaza came forward again, relentless in his aggression.
The spear came for Sariel’s face. He ducked and swung his left vaepkir as hard as he could. A sharp, metallic sound pierced the air as Sariel’s weapon shattered and Semjaza’s spear flew sideways, torn from his grip.
With his only weapon wielded by a wounded arm, Sariel was nearly helpless against Semjaza’s following charge. Struggling to bring his right arm up quickly enough, he was unable to stop the shield that smashed into his face and drove him backward. His feet slid across the damp grass, unable to find traction. Sariel was helpless against the ground soldier who had both a weight and height advantage.
As his strength was being rapidly depleted and the threat of being crushed to death neared, Sariel quickly pulled his feet inward and dropped to his back.
The sudden release of opposing force sent Semjaza stumbling forward.
As the Anduar’s shield passed overhead, Sariel rolled onto his left side and raised his right blade. Supporting it with his unwounded left arm, he shoved the point of the elbow blade upward through the bottom of Semjaza’s belly.
The next instant, Semjaza’s knee slammed into him, forcing him to the ground just as a foot came down and crushed the wind from his lungs.
Semjaza tripped forward and fell over Sariel to land face down in the damp soil.
The resulting silence was deafening as Sariel writhed in pain, fighting for a breath. It seemed his lungs wouldn’t obey him, as if they were afraid of the stabbing pain in his chest that threatened to kill him for the effort of breathing.
Rolling onto his back, Sariel felt the pain lessen slightly. A few seconds later, his body agreed to take a shallow breath. And then another spasm of pain, followed by a short breath. Slowly, he opened his eyes, realizing only now that his pain had been so distracting that he had left himself vulnerable to attack. Turning his head quickly, he was relieved to see the motionless form of Semjaza, lying face down in the grass with a pool of blood spreading around his dead body.
Slowly. Cautiously. Sariel rolled onto his right side and rose to his hands and knees. The stabbing pain in his chest remained, but he was now able to breathe steadily. Gritting his teeth, he pulled his feet underneath him and readied himself to stand, while Nuathel and his Iryllurym came near.
The Fim-Rada nodded.
Sariel returned the gesture, then began to shape himself to repair the damage.
* * * *
NORTH OF MURAKSZHUG
In the highland forests north of Murakszhug, Azael dodged the point of a vaepkir. Rushing inside the Iryllur’s range, Semjaza’s second-in-command grabbed the other angel by the throat and lifted him off his feet. Using his superior size and strength, he hefted the soldier of the Amatru and slammed his face into the side of a tree. When one blow failed to produce the results he wanted, he repeated it again, and again, each time harder until the soldier’s face became an indistinguishable mass of bloody flesh. Then, he tossed the soldier’s limp body aside.
Pale weaklings, he thought to himself with disgust.
Suddenly, he felt a shift in his spirit. Where once was an oppressive force, requiring submission, there was now only a void.
Not a void, he corrected himself. Freedom!
Without seeing it or hearing it, he knew instantly that Semjaza was dead. Smiling a wicked smile, he looked through the dense tangle of tree trunks to see his two remaining subordinates approaching. It was clear that they had also dispatched the last of the Amatru Iryllurym who had tracked them after they escaped from the fortress.
The dark angels stared back, feeling a similar sensation in their own spirits, though their immediate authority was still alive.
“The battle is over for us,” he told them.
“Yes, my Rada,” they both responded.
“To the mines,” he said, then spread his black wings.