The Auric Insignia Page 20

  Roarke, all wired up to the point where he almost couldn’t hear anything, a dull pandemonium unfolding, charged the third rider. Still terrified and shocked by the monster in their midst, the man did not see Roarke coming and he was taken unawares. Using his spear as a blunt club, Roarke let the deadly spire fall on the soldier helmet with all his might, aiming to unsaddle him. Reflexively closing his eyes as the horse reared, Roarke could hear something fall to the ground with a hard landing. Opening his eyes to the sound of Refaz dispatching the second scout, he could see the man he had struck, lying on the road.

  He was a thin man who looked to be in his early thirties, not much older than Roarke himself. He wore armor similar to that of the others, but with slightly different markings, telling Roarke he was an officer of some sort. His face was dominated by an empty stare looking out from behind red stripes making their way across the features. The blood was coming from his head, where the helmet had collapsed under the force of the blow, soaking the light brown curls of the dead man’s hair in a thick red ooze. Shocked at his own power over another, at how easy it had been to take a life, Roarke felt himself standing on the slippery edge, expecting to fall.

  - Roarke!?

  As Refaz gripped his shoulder, the abyss faded away to show the road and the swamp around him.

  - Yeah?

  - I said, can you ride?

  - Uh, yeah, yeah I can.

  - Great, then let’s go.

  Refaz handed Roarke the reins of the last surviving horse before he set off at high speed. The situation giving no time for thoughts, Roarke heaved himself up on the steed and put his heels to its sides. Not an expert rider, having been a child the last time he sat in a saddle, Roarke still managed to, after some tries, spur on the beast flexing underneath him, without falling off in the process. They pushed on in the night, one, a demon wrought in flames, and the other a bleak rider carrying an obsidian spike. They were starting to see the lit wall surrounding the keep in front of them, populated with guards that even though still now, would soon see their hasty advance.

  Roarke pulled up the steed as close to Refaz as he dared, still keeping some distance between them, lest it panic and throw him off.

  - Refaz.

  Without taking his eyes from their goal, Refaz answered.

  - Yeah?

  - How do we do this?

  - Just don’t stop.

  As though he had accessed another level, Refaz accelerated even further, leaving Roarke and the galloping horse behind as he closed in fast on the wall. Entering the cleared area, Refaz caught the attention of the guards as he, using the roof of one of the huts as a steppingstone, launched himself to the top off the wall in one fluid motion, dodging raining crossbow bolts along the way.

  - Sound the alarm!

  Atop the wall, Refaz landed teeth first, on the guard that had shouted out, eliminating him just as a bell was struck. Roarke kicked the horse, feeling as if he could not go fast enough, a strained whinny escaping the horse as it was pushed to its limit. Getting closer and closer however, Roarke wasn’t sure how to proceed, not able to scale walls by leaping. Amidst the audible turmoil, he got his answer in the form of a rope that was thrown over the edge of the ramparts. Wasting no time, Roarke jumped off the steed mid stop, rolling on the ground until he managed to stop his momentum enough to get up and keep running towards the ongoing fight. As he stopped to fasten the spear on his back before starting the climb, something in the corner of his eye, caught his attention. Standing on a walkway between the stilted huts, stood a naked child, no more than two years old. Bathed in the moonlight hitting the thin planks, Roarke could see that the child was not well, its ribs clearly visible in the pale gloom.

  - Go home.

  The child did not move, staring with the unabashed curiosity only present in children.

  - I said go home, it’s dangerous out here!

  - Miki!

  A young woman with red hair exited the hut directly connected to the wooden bridge.

  - Miki, get over here!

  Leaving the child no time for its brash rebuttals, the woman snatched the child off its feet and planted it on her hip. Roarke forced a smile, for some reason eager not to be seen as the enemy, if he could avoid it. His smile warmed no hearts as his only response was a fleeting look from the woman, before she ran back inside her small home. Screams and calls to action once more demanded his attention and he refocused on the task at hand. Jumping up, he grabbed hold of the rope and started climbing upwards as fast as he could. He made quick progress, pulling himself up whilst at the same time pushing off with his feet that he wedged in between the blocks of stone. Just before he was about to reach the top, he charged and pushed off, but instead of going up, his feet slipped on the moist stone, causing him to slip down the rope until he could clamp down with his hands. His heart once again jumped up in his throat, seeing his dangling feet, realizing how high up he actually was.

  - Fuck.

  Pressing on, he took a deep breath and was about to heave himself up the last bit, when he heard a voice cut straight through the commotion.

  - Watch out!

  Roarke looked up just as a sword was bearing down on him, losing the grip with his right hand, he managed to throw himself to the side, the blade just barely missing his head. Striking unyielding stone, the woman atop the wall became stunned for a moment, a moment Roarke seized. Drawing from pools of strength he did not know he had, Roarke pulled up his body with the left hand with such power that he propelled high enough to clasp his free hand around the soldier’s striking arm.

  - You swine, let me go!

  With her sword locked, along with her quickly increasing fear of being pulled off, the woman, in her building panic, tried to back away from the unexpected reversal. She pulled back frantically, trying to free her arm, inadvertently helping Roarke scale the last bit of wall, finally allowing him to firmly plant his feet on the walkway. Away from the edge, the soldier changed her tactics and went on the offensive, engaging Roarke in close combat. Realizing that if she managed to loosen her arm from his grip, tipping the scales of their struggle, Roarke held onto her sword arm for dear life, utilizing his greater strength in an effort to overpower her. As he struck out against her, she ducked, throwing herself away, finally managing to wriggle out of his grasp. Down on all fours but still very much in the game, she scrambled after the sword that had gone sliding across the stone, eager to gain the upper hand. Quick, but not quick enough, she managed to catch the sword by its leather bound hilt, but as she swung around to slay the intruder, she was met by a spear in the gut, piercing her armor to wound the soft flesh within. Shock and pain played across her face before it went blank as Roarke pulled out the now glistening death from her stomach, shortly followed by guts and gore that came spewing out as the woman fell over, dead.

  Breathing heavily from the exertion, Roarke looked down at the huts, seeking the owner of the voice that had warned him and thereby saved his life. He didn’t know if that someone had taken his earlier advice and left, or if the darkness hid them from his sight. No matter what the case was, he rid his mind of it, shifting his thoughts towards the courtyard, where Refaz was holding a soldier in the air by the scruff of his neck.

  - Where is Racka!? What have you done with Ama!?

  Roarke hurried down the stairs, running past the still guards that had weighed their swords against Refaz’s claws and anger, and that had lost the battle.

  - Please, I had nothing to do with that!

  - Where!?

  - The lord returned down to the caves that lie underneath the keep.

  - And Ama, where is he?

  - I don’t know who...

  - The wolf!

  - He was escorted down there some time ago, he has not returned. Please, I don’t know anything more!

  Refaz threw the man to the ground, where he fell on his knees, happy to escape Refaz’s monstrous clutches. Refaz didn’t let up however, leaning down, he growled, his sharp f
ace taking on a terrifying appearance.

  - Which way?

  - You go inside, past the stairs, go deeper inside until you get to a small door where a draft is blowing through.

  The man coughed violently, steadying himself on all fours.

  - That’s the one, the door that leads down to the caves, to the lord.

  Roarke stepped up from behind Refaz, up to the man on the ground.

  - Where is everyone, where are the hounds? How do we know you’re not sending us into a trap!?

  Wincing under the accusation, the soldier was all to eager to help his own chances of survival.

  - No, no, I swear! Look, the dogs are dead, they were poisoned!

  - Poisoned?

  - Yes, yes, by a servant girl who then escaped. That’s why there are so few here, the lord sent out a search party.

  Roarke suddenly remembered the girl they had seen collecting plants out in the swamp, and what she had said.

  - How did she look like?

  Thrown off by the odd question, the man stuttered a response.

  - Look like?

  - Yeah, look like! If you are telling us the truth, what did she look like?

  - Eh, small, long brown hair, I think.

  Roarke looked at Refaz who by this point had come to the same conclusion. Sufficiently convinced they knew what they were walking into, they left the man, kneeling in the gravel next to the bodies of the dead guards. They burst through the main door, where, like the man had said, there was a large staircase. On full alert, they followed the instructions they had been given, walking down the winding corridors in the heart of the keep.

  - There.

  Fear for their comrade pushed them to abandon caution, both of them rushing down the damp stone stairs behind the small door. Not stopping, they continued on, crashing through the second door to the sound of their entrance echoing in the natural hall.

  - Racka, face us!

  Moving in, the ghost of Refaz’s own voice haunted them before the sound of another voice filled the air.

  - Us!? When my servants warned me that a beast in red was wreaking havoc upstairs, I didn’t think you had brought company with you to the family reunion!

  Their attention, like the attention of their lost friend before them, was pulled to the mound deeper inside the cave, where they saw horror displayed at its top. Hanging by the arms, was the headless body of Ama. His skin, in the process of being flayed off, an operation cut short by Roarke’s and Refaz’s arrival. Exposed muscles covered in blood, made Ama look like no more than a grotesque piece of meat, hanging in a butcher shop.

  - No!

  Refaz started running forward, leaving Roarke behind. He closed in on the slope, and was about to leap, when Racka kicked something dark and ragged down towards his brother. Reflexively stopping, Refaz caught it, and saw in his despair, that it was the bloody head of Ama, who’s eyes no longer held any life.

  - No..... No, Ama, don’t leave me alone.

  - He didn’t even put up a fight, can you believe that!? Big brother, crying as he died!

  His evil insanity, Racka’s eyes, behind the dead skin of his slaves, stained by the blood of his own kin, lit up with malice.

  - He just stood there, crying, when I ripped his head off!

  Racka could barely contain himself, his speech dissolving into an eerie laugh.

  - No!

  Refaz dropped the head and charged up the blood soaked side of the hill, Racka, his madness unhinging, met him head on in a flurry of teeth and claws. Roarke, who had been running as fast as he could through the field of spikes, in order to catch up, didn’t have time to react before he was ambushed, tripped and thrown to the ground hard, losing grip of his weapon.

  - Nice spear, I had one just like it, but I misplaced it.

  Roarke knew that voice, that cold, unforgiving voice. Hearing it now again, after all that had happened, on such a night of blood, brought him clarity. He saw a truth, once known, obvious, but one that had teased his mind, but that now was unquestionable. Roarke pushed himself up and looked Marielle in her crystal blue eyes, seeing no emotion.

  - You killed them.

  His voice calm but dripping with hate.

  - Yes.

  Her voice, like her face, devoid of any remorse.

  - Yes!? Yes!?

  - Yes.

  - Why!?

  - I was told to.

  Roarke’s still surface cracked in the face of such merciless rationalization.

  - Gumma!? Galt!? Everyone, even your own brothers!? All because you were told!?

  Circling him like a predator, Marielle had positioned herself between Roarke and the fighting Kappas, separating her prey from the fold.

  - They served their purpose, as did I.

  Lifting the spear from the ground with her foot, Marielle sent it off in Roarke’s direction. Roarke, his anger rising inside of him, didn’t wait but instead let himself be goaded into a fight, rushing on, spear in hand. Roaring with enmity, he jabbed his spear with as much power as he could muster. Substituting technique and skill with brute force and anger, he swung and charged. Marielle, wielding dual daggers, was a world away when it came to finesse. Dancing around every attack with impeccable precision, she swiped at his exposed arms, avoiding his frenzy with ease. Seeing that her attacks did little to hurt his armor, she disengaged and momentarily retreated.

  - Interesting armor...

  Roarke, not in the mood for talking, did not let up but instead closed the distance between them. Then, from one deflected attack to the next, her stance subtly changed and as though executing a calculated move, Marielle unleashed a devastating barrage of blows. Moving in on him after Roarke had failed an attempt to strike, getting inside the optimal range of the spear, she spun around and stabbed both of her thin blades into Roarke’s left shoulder, this time piercing the Megin Armor. Before Roarke could do anything more than gasp, she had loosened her weapons and escalated her assault by delivering three fast puncturing incisions to his right thigh. Blinding pain hit him as she pulled out the delicate knives, and his leg buckled under him. Roarke screamed out in agony, his left arm hanging limply by his side, he collapsed on the cave floor.

  - You are weak, Roarke, too weak to beat me, but even you have a purpose.

  - Fuck you!

  Roarke felt the dirt on his lips but could only taste the anger, dominating him.

  - You hear me, fuck you!

  Roarke could see Marielle walking away from him, a dead stare in her eye as she turned away.

  - Perhaps you should help your friend, he looks like he could need it.

  In his blind rancor, Roarke had forgotten all about Refaz. Worried that it might have been too late, the pain dulled as he looked to find his friend in the forest of spires. If they at one point in their lives had been equals, that time was long gone, because despite the sharp teeth and claws the champion of foxes utilized, and that Racka had rid himself of in his quest for humanity, Refaz was losing. Racka, beyond human power to begin with, had, through his alliance with Gota, supplemented and amplified his strength with the energy stolen from the brothers and sisters he had once helped to betray. Behind the now shredded skin of humans, were the muscles that struck with punishing strength. Both of them covered in blood, anyone could see that Refaz was far worse off, his stance faltering as his body and bones had started to break, despite their abnormal durability.

  Roarke needed to help. He knew he was no match for Racka but he couldn’t just lie there, awaiting his own death, he needed to help. Pulling in his legs underneath him, the pain once again flared up, threatening to make him pass out. He tried to ignore it, his stubbornness driving him on and up. A warm feeling was spreading under his armor as blood ran down his body in steadily increasing amounts, as he forced his heart to pump faster so he could keep on moving. Starting to feel dizzy, he slowly bent down and picked up the spear lying beside him. He looked around, but Marielle was no where to be seen, she had vanished. Even in his pain
and fatigue, he managed to feel despise, although more dull than before, along with the rest of him.

  After a lull in their struggle, the ferocity flared up again as Racka charged his brother, who, too slow to evade, blocked the attack with his best effort. Having taken the full force of the blow, Refaz was sent flying into a row of stalagmites that broke and crumbled as he hit them. Unrelenting, Refaz had barely landed before the rabid lord had caught up with him, and was landing strike after strike. This was it, if Roarke was going to do something, he had to do it now. Having reached his limit, Refaz was no longer bracing himself for the shower of hurt that rained down on him. His baby brother, now out of touch with what little cohesive thought still his, had crossed a line, now beast only. A feral choir to the percussion of Refaz’s breaking bones, his words had left him, in their place only guttural roars and growls.

  Roarke shook his head, desperately trying to cling to his anger in order to stay conscious. He started running, first slowly and then faster, every step of escalating pain sparking his tired mind with a jolt of white light, pulsing in his spine. He screamed, he screamed with pain and he screamed with sorrow, but most of all, he screamed with anger. The battle cry however, fell on deaf ears, even though it rang out against the walls of the great hall they were in. Roarke ran as fast as he could, knowingly expending his last energy in this final act. Coming up on the brutal scene with the unknowing Racka, he didn’t stop and he didn’t slow down. Running with his spear firmly locked in his right hand, he collided full speed with his enemy. The sharp weapon penetrating the torso, sliding in between the ribs, Roarke didn’t stop. Running in the spear until it hit his hand, he let go of the grip and threw himself with all his weight at Racka, taking him down.

  Pulled from his blind rage, Racka tried to fend off his attacker in the short moments before he, pushed on, was impaled on a dripstone spike. Their massive force crashing on, the stalagmite broke, finally sending them crashing into the dirt. His left lung skewered and his stomach ripped open by the crude stone lance, Racka reeled on the cave floor, gasping for air. Roarke, his mind still going on, climbed on top of the dying monster and started punching him, fueled solely by emotion. Hit after hit landed, landed to rid the world of the madness that inhabited the eyes staring back at him.