Chapter 12 - Into the Castle (2)

Chapter 12: Into the Castle (2)

Perched atop the outer wall that once protected the boundaries of Ankalen, Solana Virro Razorwyn stared blankly at the cold, soot-covered stone. Her eyes were bleak and seemingly sunken into her skull, almost as if Death itself dragged her around with each breath she took. Her once-flawless skin bore scuffs of dirt and blood, yet no wounds could be seen through the gashes in her garments.

Nonetheless her complexion was a hundred times better than the High Elves huddled bound together behind her, with every Elf looking as if Death had already claimed them, but was taking its time on whom to reap first. 

The rope that strangled the group together was stretched taut against their bodies, branding a yellow ochre hue into their clothes. Burns and scars littered their skin, and while a handful of the males wore blood-dripping cuts across their bodies, none of them bore wounds grave enough to claim their life. 

Despite the suffocating atmosphere surrounding Solana, a sight that could only be described as bizarre played before her eyes. A gentle blue wisp, vaguely translucent and impermeable, paraded its way around Solana, bobbing around her in a circle, like a stray cat begging a stranger for a meal. Yet the cheerful bounding from the wisp did nothing to allay Solana’s depressive state; it only made her hug the radiant blue and gray pickaxe in her arms closer. 

‘Who did you belong to…’ Solana thought, watching the curious wisp bounce back and forth. ‘Did I know who you were in life?’

Solana’s hand trembled against the pickaxe’s handle which, despite being warm to the touch, still felt cold with every shaky tap of her fingers. Until now, Solana hadn’t experienced fear even once in her life; her warm, cushy life with her father in the city was devoid of even a sliver of danger. Nor did her peaceful, meadow-filled life with her mother ever know misery. In every sense of the word, she was a child sheltered to her core.

Yet one night was all it took to stand in the way of ever returning to those days. Even as she blankly watched the wisp bounce in front of her, flashes of fire and screams filled her mind as she relived the past hours of agony. With every scene that replayed drawing her closer and closer to tears, Solana finally buried her face in her knees, letting the tears that welled up in her eyes fall onto her torn leggings.

“Be grateful you’re even alive. If it wasn’t for that pickaxe, you would have turned to ash like the rest of the trash down there.”

Solana looked up from her knees as Rolozuthen broke the silence atop the wall, the fiery tone in her voice jabbing at the High Elves in their forlorn state. Her light brown hair fluttered gently in the smoggy breeze as flecks of soot scattered across her worn, bloodstained yellow dress.

“P-please don’t speak that way,” Solana stammered out as a bitter sense of resentment churned in her gut. “We’re complying with you without resisting, so please be respectful to our fallen kin.”

“Be respectful to your fallen kin?” Rolozuthen echoed, clenching her fist as her knuckles gradually lost their color. “How dare you say that to us after the hell you put us through. You should consider yourselves lucky we’re only going this far.”

Rolozuthen’s voice trembled with anger at every word that escaped her lips, as what little control she had over her emotions snapped upon hearing Solana speak as such. The flames on top of the wall and on the ground below began to surge with each breath Rolozuthen took, almost as if her emotions and the flames were one and the same. 

“What do you mean?” Solana asked, scooting away from Rolozuthen with each word. 

“Are you that ignorant or are you just stupid!?” Rolozuthen barked, just as the night sky erupted into a vibrant vermilion. “Ten thousand, that’s how many humans have died in just the Mythril Encampment! And not a single one of them was buried or shown even an ounce of respect in death! Yet you dare ask us for respect? Then prove that you’re worthy of it first, you ungrateful, greedy, hell-bent swines!”

Angry tears filled Rolozuthen’s eyes as the last words left her mouth, dripping periodically down her cheeks as the sky shifted back into its usual purplish hue. The flames that rose with each word died down into smolders, leaving only piles of burning red charcoal and charred stones around them. With only the occasional pop of charcoal splitting in the heat interjecting the eerie silence that hung over the High Elves, Solana sat still as the pickaxe in her arms slid through her loosened grip.

Disgust and disbelief spread across Solana’s face as Ralogolar’s pickaxe tumbled out of her lap, hammering loudly against the ground with each clatter. Still she spoke up, refusing to believe Rolozuthen’s words despite the emotions behind them.

“Y-you’re lying, there’s no way that can be true,” she stammered, daring to look up at Rolozuthen as she denied the cause of her suffering. “You can’t be speaking the truth, there’s no way a High Elf would be that cruel.”

“Now aren't you a sheltered little shit,” Rolozuthen rasped, her words laced with venom as she leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I know it’s the truth, because I’m the one who had to cremate them, lest I wanted to join them.”

A potent bloodlust filled the air with each word that left Rolozuthen’s mouth, masking the dreary ambience with the rage she had harbored every day for the past twenty years. Taking advantage of Solana’s stunned, horrified silence, Rolozuthen continued to rip into the helpless girl in front of her. 

“You prop yourselves up as some high and righteous race, that you could never commit the horrors I experienced every single day. I’ve watched innocent children die in front of me from exhaustion, just for them to be dragged into a pile like they’re some expendable animal waste.” 

Word after word left Rolozuthen’s mouth, tainted by the horrors she experienced. Yet a small, barely visible wisp bobbed its way around Rolozuthen’s feet, captivating what was left of Solana’s dispirited gaze. As if it hadn’t a care in the world, or even a care for what was left of the little soul’s afterlife, it bounded through the air and landed gently on top of Rolozuthen’s head. 

“How carefree… you’re just a child, aren’t you?”

Solana’s thoughts slipped out from her mouth without restraint. She gasped as she realized what she had uttered to the human full of murderous intent in front of her, suddenly realizing that the pickaxe that once saved her life would provide no help in this second encounter. Yet Rolozuthen, face blank and devoid of the fury that plagued her just moments before, stared down at Solana without so much of a blink or exhale. 

Rolozuthen’s trance-like state did not persist long. Before the crackling of embers could even break the silence that had fallen over the wall, a familiar voice boomed across the skies without so much as a hint of stopping. 

“My brothers and sisters!” Ralogolar’s voice resounded, causing Rolozuthen to snap her gaze in the direction of the castle. “Join me in the fight to take the castle for ourselves! Spare no one in your path, and bring them all down!”

The dull gaze in Rolozuthen’s hazel eyes was replaced by a creeping sense of foreboding as Ralogolar’s voice reverberated against the stone wall below her. With pursed lips and clenched fists, Rolozuthen stared into the flame-riddled city, as every fiber of her being screamed with the urge to abandon everything around her so she could join Ralogolar in battle. Yet her feet remained planted firmly to the ground, with Ralogolar’s previous order riddling her mind. 

‘I have to stay at the wall…’ Rolozuthen thought, her eyes darting between the now-helpless Elves behind her and the castle where their freedom was at stake. ‘But he wouldn’t call out like that unless he was desperate…’ 

“Rolozuthen!” Ralozenther exclaimed as he came running across the wall toward the group. “You heard that too right?”

With each step he took a violent gust propelled debris from the wall, clearing a path straight to his comrade. Dust and dirt kicked up into a cloud as he slid just past Rolozuthen and Solana, barely managing to skid to a stop in his usual cartoonish manner. 

“Quit playing around, Ralozenther! This is no time for your shenanigans!”

Rolozuthen’s words drove like nails into Ralozenther, yet his expression remained unchanged; still afraid of how dire the situation must be, but smiling nonetheless. 

“I know, I know,” Ralozenther replied, dusting off his shabby tunic. “What do you suggest we do about it then?”

“I don’t know!” Rolozuthen huffed, clearly still harboring pent up emotions. “Ralogolar told us to defend the wall, but he wouldn’t have made such a brazen speech if he hadn't encountered some trouble.”

Rolozuthen’s mind raced with each word she spoke, fretting over all the possible outcomes she could come up with. Ralogolar’s defeat, the loss of the revolution army, her capture should they fail; every result sent a shiver down her spine.

“Fine then,” Ralogozen sighed, reaching down into the small leather pouch dangling at his side. “If you can’t make up your mind, I will. You go help Ralogolar and the army, I’ll stay here and keep these Elves in line.”

“No, if anyone should go it's you,” Rolozuthen snapped back. “Your magic is better suited for large-scale battles.”

Yet her words fell on deaf ears as Ralozenther pulled out a small, rectangular lump of grains. Its stench and moldy black color caused him to wince as he kneaded it in his palm, breaking the clump down into a handful of sandy powder.

“Damn it, you lovebird,” Ralozenther sighed as he scattered the black powder across Rolozuthen’s feet. “It’s like you said, he wouldn’t call out like that if he wasn’t desperate, so go and help your boyfriend already!”

Rolozuthen's face flushed bright pink as she processed Ralozenther’s words. Before she could even manage a single word out in response, the wind that had stood still quivered with energy. A flurry of gusts pelted her from each direction, flinging the specks of black powder around her like a tornado, with each blast roaring louder than even Ralogolar’s voice just now. 

“Oh Spirits of Wind, heed my call!” Ralozenther chanted, barely audible over the vicious winds that resulted from his spell. “Invoke the Gale’s omnipresent speed to transport my target! Tempest Gate!”

A blinding green light emanated from Ralozenther as mana flared from his body, covering the wall for dozens of meters with an impenetrable light. With everyone caught up in the light rendered unable to even open their eyes, what was only mere seconds of blindness felt like hours. Yet within the light the violent winds ceased, letting the discomfort Rolozuthen felt fade with each passing second. 

“Damn it Ralozenther, warn me the next time you intend to cast a spell on me!” Rolozuthen yelled, rubbing her eyes as the blinding light slowly faded around her. 

Despite her eyes struggling to open after the spell, she managed to slowly readjust to the dim lighting left in the ruined country. Yet for each minute it took to regain her sight, a furious outcry filled her ears, fueled by thousands of voices fraught with desperation. 

As she slowly regained her focus, the horror of her surroundings began to sink in. The streets below the rooftop she stood upon had turned into rivers of blood, her comrades pushing forward into the battle directly ahead.