Endfall (11 page)

            
 
Abraham screamed in triumph as he crushed the remains of a metal man that now lay thick in the snow and ice. A sudden shadow came into view, he noticed. It was a screaming man, a parliament member.
Why is he in battle?
Despite his astonishment, Abraham ran forwards towards the man with power. Suddenly a blade of silver was thrust towards his face, but was avoided with his swift skills. He didn’t have time to see the man that was attacking him, instead he raised his claws and leaped up on his hind legs to strike him. His right paw made contact with the man’s shoulder and a loud cracking sound came from the impact. The man screamed, but showed no signs of surrender. Abraham launched himself up again, but was blocked and struck down by the man’s blade. His swing was strong. Abraham then tried again, and again once more, but was blocked both times.

              Then the man swung straight down at Abraham’s helmet, striking it at the side and creating a large scratch. The attack had stunned Abraham, but he was quickly on the rise, swinging both his paws at the man. He was stricken profoundly, blood was drawn from his face, and he took a couple steps back. Before Abraham began his next attack, the man pulled out another blade from his side. It seemed like it was just manifested from thin air.
Where did that come from?
The parliament member stood up, courage driving him, strengthening him, and he raised each blade. Blood poured from the wounds on his face, his hat on the bounds of shredded material.

              Abraham stood back a moment to prepare, but before he struck, another shadow came from the mist. It was the Tarrian. For the first time, the parliament member seemed to be frightened, but he attempted to dismiss it and show only rage. Tarrian walked around the man towards Abraham, and they nodded at each other in silent agreement. The attack was already in mind. It was a moment of dreadful anticipation, then in a sudden movement they executed their attack. Abraham leapt up at the man with his jaws wide open and his paws outstretched firmly in front of him, as Tarrian bolted around to the man’s back side. Abraham’s battle claws landed on both of the upright blades, which were being unsteadily held by the man. The weight of Abraham’s blow broke the man’s blocking attempt, forcing him to collapse on the ice next to Tarrian. Tarrian then leaped at him to strike.

              But the viscous foe was timely. Before Tarrian reached him, he raised a blade and swung at him. The blade cut across his unprotected stomach, drawing blood that landed in a dark splatter on the ice. Tarrian landed on his feet beside the man, hurt, but not finished. He delivered a sharp blow to the man’s arm, fracturing the bone. A cry of pain came from him, but then a terrifying attack. The man swung again at him, and with impelling force it left a large crack in the ice, but did not hit Tarrian.

              The parliament member then began to cry and scream, for the brutal claws of Abraham were dug inches deep into his back. In agony, the man fell to his knees to the force of the pain, shaking and trembling from the mutilations taking place on his body. Then the screaming was silenced, for Abraham’s claws were removed from his back, but with them came pieces of the man’s spine, torn from under his human material. Abraham swung his paws high in the air with the blood-drunk human bones and smashed them into pieces on the ice. Abraham and Tarrian stood together and let out a roar of pride, before rushing back into battle.

              Rezzifer was alone. He was not attacking anybody, but rather was avoiding them. He felt that something was terribly wrong.
Am I to kill these metal men? They have done nothing wrong. I am terribly sorry, my brothers, I am conflicted.
His deep thoughts and frustration quickly drew a rage from him that he hadn’t previously known about. He let out a ferocious roar and lashed out his paws at the nearest creature. It was another rebel, a lynx who had been running by. The lynx stopped, sliding a bit on the ice, and turned to Rezzifer, spitting out a flash of blood. A small, broken tooth landed on the ice as well.

              “You attack me?” Asked the lynx, slowly stalking towards him. This lynx was quite larger than Rezzifer. “Nothing attack me,” the lynx said, followed by a fierce grunt.

              Rezzifer said nothing, instead he let his confusion and control him. He felt his paws raise and strike the back of the lynx, grip into flesh and fur, and rip back with great force. The lynx was smashed to the ice hard, and then he turned his head around to look up at Rezzifer, who was standing over him with a dark. The lynx began to say something, but Rezzifer cried out and forced an impelling paw at the lynx’s throat. Rezzifer could feel the blood pulsing, flowing around in the lynx’s body. The weak thing was trying to speak, trying to breath, but Rezzifer would not allow. He felt all the anger in his mind being forced into this harrowing choke, and moments later there was no life left to drain out. The lynx simply dropped his head on the ice. Rezzifer retreated, taking a step away.
Damn this.

-----

            
 
Lyrah stood on the edge of the Bay and heard the sounds of the battle in the distance, a rumble of terror. There was a great deal of screaming, far out. But the Forest stood still, stood silent. This, Lyrah decided, was creating fear.
I need to go, now.
She crept from her position to a low hill of snow, moving farther and farther towards the North of the Bay.

              It was devastating. When she had reached the ice she saw the horrors of war, the collapsing of soldiers, the death of human beings, and the crushing power of the metal men.
We are not holding...We are going to die.
Her thoughts were leading her to terrible visions. She shook her head violently, making them go away.
Should I stay?
She saw Oslo’s division in the distance. Closer, she saw Tarrian’s division taking a massive amount of damage. She thought she spotted Rezzifer from where she stood, but wasn’t sure.
Perhaps I could help some of them along the way. But I stay to the North, no turning South for a moment.

-----

Mr. Charlie stood still as stone, watching the skies through the glass ceiling of the courtyard. The great tiles of glass ran with cold water from the sky and were frosted by snow, but still the stars shined bright enough to see clearly. The golden, metal framing glistened in the moonlight like water. Mr. Charlie could hear the thunders of battle in the distance. It was an awesome rain, a storm, a clash of power. Besides the frightened, little animals that roamed the courtyard, he was alone. He reached up a trembling hand towards his face, and touched the mutilated, gruesome skin, feeling numerous scars and the coarse, dried blood.

              He felt strange. In the distance, growing louder and louder was the sound of a single screaming lynx. Lit only by moonlight, the room became submerged in shadows, and in the lonely darkness, Mr. Charlie softly spoke, “I am truly sorry, my dear brother.”

BURNING SKIES

Oslo and his only remaining follower, Heylemith, reached the entrance of the Hall and slowed to a stop near the great stairway leading to the doors. There were five metal men standing guard at the top of the staircase. Both lynxes ran up the staircase with impelling speeds. One of the metal men aimed at Heylemith with a strange, metal contraption and suddenly light was bursting out of it, and little projectiles were soared at Heylemith. Fortunately, he was agile and timely, avoiding the attacks. He leaped forwards with great power, taking down the foe by its metal torso. Oslo attacked the metal man farthest to the left. He easily was able to rip out its throat and toss the dismantled body away from the staircase to the ice below. He looked over and saw Heylemith demolishing the last of his opponent with his teeth.

              Mr. Charlie, who awaited in his courtyard, stood breathless. He held a single golden blade in his hand, sheathed but ready. He heard the roars of his enemy outside his doors.
Patience.

              The last metal man stood tall and struck at Heylemith, missing by a mere hair. Oslo then lashed out a massive paw at the creature’s face, creating multiple cracks in the shiny, white surface. The metal man staggered for a moment, and the lynxes made no attempt to show mercy. Heylemith leapt onto its back and ripped out its spinal cords in a swift move.

              Heylemith let out an astounding roar and continued in a burst through the front doors of the Hall. Oslo stepped forwards and yelled, “No, Heylemith! Stay back!”
We were supposed to wait!
Oslo looked back at the battlefield; neither Abraham nor Tarrian was in sight.
Heylemith, that fool!

              Heylemith stepped into the empty Hall alone, without panic, only speed. There was no human or metal man in sight. “Where is Mr. Charlie!” Called Heylemith, only to hear his own voice echo throughout the building.
He’s in this building somewhere.

              Then, something stopped him. From somewhere close, the muffled voice of Mr. Charlie came forth, “I am here.”

-----

              Silence. Dead, utter, silence was what draped over the shoulders of the forest. Not even the sounds of the battle out at Bay could be heard. It was precarious. Farhisk was beginning to grow curious. All the rebel warriors stood still.

              Then came the noise. Farhisk heard it first; a strange buzzing noise coming from somewhere far off in the distance. It was very quiet, but noticeable.
What is that?
It was moments later when he realized that the sound was indeed getting louder. “To arms!” Farhisk called out. Every human in sight drew either a bow or a blade, and every lynx prepared their battle claws.

              A human by the name of Richards called out to Farhisk, “Farhisk!” Many others looked at Richards strangely, as did Farhisk. He continued to call out, “Far–” Richards stopped speaking, for suddenly the mysterious buzzing sound was gone. It was total silence again, but for the wind.

              Then, from what seemed like nothing came a flash of light near the Bay, and then moments after its disappearance came a sound. It was a shrieking, ear piercing sound, like that of a scream, but it sounded more machine-like. Then, again from what seemed like nothing, came a traveling beam of light through the trees and struck the ground near Richards.

              The light vanished, but in its place was a screaming mass of blood, bones, and fire that was once the poor Richards and the surrounding archers. A few nearby soldiers began to cry out, but it was still silent in the forest. Farhisk suddenly grew a great deal more sensible. He listened again for the buzzing sound.

              Then again without warning or sound came another beam of light, and a nearby group of soldiers burst into fiery particles and blood. Farhisk saw the skin of one’s arm become torn free of a body in the blast.
What sort of weaponry are we dealing with here?
Multiple small blasts of light came and two more were dead. But it was silent. Now, the soldiers began to grow less patient, the fear inside them growing.

              Then the silence was broken by a sound above the trees. When Farhisk looked up he saw a machine, flying in the air, almost the size of their own fireflies. The machine was shaped like a bat, and flew almost silently but for the blasts that came down from the parts on the stomach of the machine. More lights came down, beginning to burn trees and warriors both. Farhisk leaped off his rock, landing near a blast, but coming away from it with less than a scratch. He looked back up at the machine, but before long it had vanished in the clouds.

              A wall of metal men came crashing violently through the trees. The warriors drew their bows instantly, attempting to forget the shattering strangeness of the flying machine. “Fire!” Farhisk roared, and following close behind the sound of his voice came a rain of arrows. The arrows came down with great force, cracking metal skulls and piercing eye-lights. But not only metal men were damaged, for a number of rebel archers were also falling in their own blood.

              The metal men had a strange new technology that the blade-wielders and archers hadn’t seen before. The metal men were creating great amounts of lights and sound with their machines that penetrated a being with great force. Farhisk had inspected an object on the ground that seemed to be what the machines were projecting. It was round, made of a type of metal, and small. Suddenly, one of them whizzed by Farhisk’s face, causing him to lash backwards. He looked up and saw the metal men tearing through the forest.

              The air was filled with a mass of dust, ash, and snow. Farhisk ran over to where Alwin hid, behind a large rock, protected by seven archers. He slid behind the rock quickly, avoiding the fiery blasts. “Alwin!” He cried.

              “Farhisk,” Alwin began, “What was that
machine
?”

              “I’m not sure,” said Farhisk, flinching at the sight of a falling archer. The man had been shot with fire in the eyes.

-----

              The firefly flew lower and lower as the team of Operation Moonlight grew closer to their destination. Engand looked to the others, “Ready?” He said. The lynxes nodded, all with grim and determined expressions. Milo was hesitant.