Monday, 7 November 2011

Fire Child Part 23 & 24


The carnage was almost beautiful in its efficiency, the durandals may have harboured an intense hatred for the humans of Area 31, but they did not indulge in torture.  Man, woman or child all met instant death from their escaped livestock.  Zendrius felt conflicted as remnants of his human life tugged at him, he knew that most of the people being slaughtered had probably been unaware of the cruelties done so they can satisfy their hunger.  They more than likely bought their food at a supermarket just like the humans of Earth, never even considering how exactly the ingredients were harvested.  But did their ignorance really exempt them from retribution?
  A collection of agitated growls ripped him from his musing and he turned to the durandals still within the tunnel.  “I suppose it is time we tear this place to the ground.”
  There was a roar of agreement for although the park area was large, it barely allowed two dozen of the massive creatures freedom of movement, so most of the horde was forced to wait while their brethren exacted their revenge.
  Zendrius scanned the park area for Aeon, for although he was stunned at first, his desire to avenge his mate had sparked the moment the first durandal drew blood.  It took only a few seconds to find his enormous form in the chaos.  He stood on his hind legs against one of the buildings, his right arm half buried in what appeared to be some poor fool’s apartment.
  “Aeon!  Aeon!  Can you please get down from there?  I need to speak to you!”
The ancient durandal didn’t as much as turn his head, he just continued rummaging through the building, tossing any he found over his shoulder to fall to their death.
  “Don’t ignore me, dammit!” said Zendrius before throwing a fireball at Aeon.  The ball of flame struck him squarely on his left buttock, blistering the flesh there.
  Aeon turned in surprise.  “Zendrius?”
  “Yeah, can you please get down here?  All this screaming is making my throat sore.”
  Aeon ripped his arm free of the structure before setting his forearms back onto the ground.  “Why did you attack me?”
  “Why did you ignore me?”
  “What?”
  “I called out, you ignored me.”
  “I did no such thing, I simply must not have heard you.”
  “Well either way, I needed to get your attention.”
  “And your solution was to attack me?”
  “Quit complaining, I made sure it wouldn’t do any real damage, look the wound is already healed.”
  “We may regenerate but we do still feel pain, Zendrius,” said Aeon dryly.
  “All right, I’m sorry, ok?  Can we move on now?”
  “I suppose, what is it you needed to discuss?”
  “Well you may not have noticed, since you’ve been merrily killing folk, but there are a lot of durandals back in that tunnel who are starting to feel left out, if you know what I mean?”
  “There is only so much room, what do you suggest?”
  “We demolish the building from the inside out, the rubble from this building couldn’t do any fatal harm to you lot, right?”
  “Yes, we would be fine, but what about you?”
  “I’ll hide between those spiky thingies on your back, they should protect me.  Go gather everyone so we can get this done with, and also let them know that there will be twenty SAINTs waiting for us outside.”
  Aeon nodded before getting the others in the park area to desist their acts of revenge and head to the tunnel.
  Zendrius walked past the corpse of a little girl on his way back to the tunnel and felt a sudden surge of human emotion.  He stopped and turned back for a moment, then sighed, before continuing onwards.

Alyza absently played with her tail as she watched the ocean of snow-white liquid from the balcony.  The liquid had a luminescent glow which made its stark contrast to the black ebbing and flowing sky even more striking.    
  Azain silently approached her from behind.  “Lady Persephone wants to see you.”
  Alyza turned and nodded.  She didn’t know much about the silver-eyed, purple leathery winged and tailed beings called the Fallen.  Only that they had once been angels and that they now seemed to serve Zed’s mother.  She suspected that it is because Zed’s deceased father had been their leader, but couldn’t be sure.
  Azain turned and walked away without waiting to see if she followed.  Alyza half stumbled after him and wondered, not for the first time, how the chain of command worked within the castle.  All she knew so far was that the taciturn man seemed to possess a higher rank than those who bring her food, and that she was expected to follow his directions without question.
  Alyza couldn’t help but gape at the beauty of the castle each time she was escorted from her room.  Immense glass columns, or what appeared as glass, adorned the hallways.  It seemed everywhere the eye could see, it was met by some kind of translucent material.  And in all of them symbols were engraved, some looked eerily similar to those in the church where Zed grew up, but most were unfamiliar.
  Instead of the usual route to Persephone’s quarters, Azain turned to a nearby room and opened the door.  “In here.”
  Alyza complied and found herself surrounded by weapon racks, training dummies and targets.
  Zed’s mother sat on a dais at the end of the hall.  “At last, I was getting weary of waiting.”
  “Where exactly am I?”
  “This is the training hall, where those who live here come to maintain and improve their skills.”
  “And I’m here because . . .”
  “You dear, are weak, and there is no room for weakness in Los-Reinar.  You have only managed to live thus far due to the efforts of others, else you would have starved or more than likely alleviated another’s hunger.”
  “Ok, so  . . . what?  You’re going to teach me how to fight?”
  “Not I, Azain if you would please,” said Persephone before leaning back.
  Alyza turned to see the muscular fallen angel draw the blade at his side and advance in a menacing fashion.  “Wait, wait!  Isn’t this a bit harsh?  I don’t know anything about fighting!”
  “Didn’t you yourself tell me that you couldn’t believe how fast you learned our language?”
  “Yes, but how is that relevant here?” asked Alyza, her voice quivering with fear.
  “I have made the necessary adjustments so that you would have an impressive capacity for learning.  You will be fine.  Begin!”

Zendrius clutched one of the hard outgrowths on Aeon back as if his life depended on it, for it essentially did.  If the durandals were impressive in close quarters, they were majestic on the open field.  Zendrius now completely understood why they were natives of Liquiem.  Upon breaking out of the structure the durandal horde had scattered into the mist.  Their natural pale complexion made them hard to follow but more then anything, their tails were what astonished the young Dannar.  Their tails were twice their length and seemed lax as they dangled loosely through the air behind them as they ran.  The tip of each was adorned with a thin sharp uncus, which bore a startling rebalance to a scythe.          Each durandal seemed to possess the ability to completely retract this tip to their bodies, concealing it among the numerous other unci that adorned their forms.  However they also used this gift to navigate their tail in such a manner that the scythe-like tip catches their prey as they ran past.
  Zendrius watched as the SAINTs were tore literally limb from limb by the durandal horde.  The few unlucky enough to survive several attacks were ripped apart by powerful hands and teeth.
  “I believe that was the last of them,” said Aeon as he crushed a crippled SAINT beneath his hand.
  “How many of your brethren do you think we lost?” asked Zendrius as Aeon lowered him to the ground.
  “I am not sure, but any loss is substantial for us.”
  Zendrius nodded before noticing something in the distance.  The horde made ready for attack but he only laughed and told them to stand down.
  “My lord, I am glad to see you are all right.  You have been in there for so long . . .” said Nessha relieved as she landed.
  “I’m fine, I just kinda got caught and tortured for a bit.”
  “I should have gone with you.”
  “I told you to stay out here remember, anyway everything worked out.  This is Aeon, he and his brethren helped me escape,” said Zendrius as he indicated the towering figure.
  “The Mist Wraith?  I thought you were killed when Juria invaded this realm,” said Nessha in disbelief.
  “Not killed, only captured,” replied the ancient durandal.
  Nessha lifted an eyebrow and was about to comment on his ‘capture’ but thought better of it.  “In any case, I am in your debt.”
  Aeon laughed.  “Think nothing of it.  Zendrius did liberate us after all.”
  Zendrius placed a reassuring hand on Nessha’s shoulder.  “Let’s head back to my uncle, I’ve had the chance to ponder a few things and would like his advice.”

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