The Willbreaker (Book 1) (12 page)

              “Edward, look, I don’t really know how to explain it, but we are going to be facing huge trouble up head.”

              Edward looked up at him with questioning eyes.

              “I know, I don’t understand it either. See, I had this dream last night,” Brandon shook his head at how absurd he sounded. “Look, trust me, I’ll try to explain it later if we make it out of here alive. Right now, we have to move, or we are going to die." He looked at Edward with the seriousness of someone who knew more than he should.

              Edward stared deep into his eyes, apparently seeing something that Brandon could not. Slowly, like a child accepting something he did not want to, he nodded his head.

              Brandon grabbed hold of Edward’s upper arm, and hurried him along as they neared town center. The air smelled of smoke, sulphur, and the increasing pungent stink of death.

              The People’s Fountain, littered with burned and crusty bodies, imitated the one in his dreams. The air smelled awful. Edward came up behind Brandon, taking in the nightmarish scene. Even though Brandon had seen this before, he still had to close his eyes and shake his head with disbelief. Words could not describe the shock and dread of it.

              The two men stared at the disastrous sight until Brandon jumped as if startled.

              “Edward! We have to move! They will be coming!" Brandon gripped his hand around Edward’s bicep and pulled him off the main road. As they moved, Brandon glanced at the building in front of him, the building from his dream. He stared at the wall facing the fountain, seeing how the support bricks cracked and crumbled. The memory of its collapse rang strong within him. The buildings to either side of the one in front of him crushed themselves with their own weight. Their sides and front faces had holes and gaps in the walls that dotted them in their entirety. Although he knew of the walls instability, Brandon chose that building again; he at least knew of its weaknesses and layout.

              “Don’t touch that wall. It’s weak at the base and will collapse if you lean on it.”

              Edward gave him an uneasy nod, and crouched behind him. Brandon eyed the road past the fountain like an eagle, but no one came. From here, they could see all the way down the road to the city gates. He gave Edward a quick glance and then looked back.

              “What is it boy? What do you see?”

              Brandon looked on, confused, as they waited.

              “I, I’m not sure. I could have sworn there was going to be two women walking at us from there. I don’t understand." Brandon stood and stepped out of the collapsing doorway to the street.

              “Brandon!”

              As the yell came echoing from Edward’s mouth, Brandon caught movement from the side of his eye. A tall woman, dressed in long and elegant crimson robes approached them. Yellow runic symbols, stitched down her arms and around the base of her feet, gave contrast to the redness of her robe. Her hard facial features, accented by the soft and flowing black hair that graced down her features, stood in hard glare towards them. Back behind her, cowering in fear of the woman in front of her, stood another lady with long straight blond hair that shimmered in the light. The grey of her robes faded dully into the background and hung loosely around her. The red-robed woman glared at the two men.

She raised an outstretched hand to them, as her other hand moved behind her thigh, clenched in a half-fist, as if holding an imaginary ball. Flames engulfed the hand behind her. Hatred streaked in her eyes.

              Edward screeched, grabbing Brandon’s arm and bolting back through the collapsing building, “Run!”

              The blistering wall of living fire smashed into the buildings front face with unreal momentum from the outstretched fingers of the lady standing wide-legged in the street. The buildings corner ripped inward, throwing rock and debris through the air in a cloud of dust and destruction. The remaining rock and wood roof caved in. A large support beam from the ceiling clipped Brandon’s right shoulder as it collapsed. A loud pop sounded out as his shoulder broke from the force, just before he was thrown to the ground. As the roof met the floor, a dust cloud billowed upward, filling the once breathable air with thick, choking haze. Brandon screamed out with prolonged agony.

              As he writhed in pain, he felt Edward lock his arms under his chest and heave him to his feet.

              “We have to move, boy, come on!”

              They half ran and half fell out the back of the building. Edward glanced around, trying to figure out a way to go. Brandon gripped the broken shoulder with his left hand, snarling his teeth at the piercing pain. All thoughts of his dreamed faded away with the onset pain. He could barely see straight as the pain from his shoulder ripped down his body, arousing pain sensors that had never before been awakened.

              With quick decision, Edward scuttled off to the left, following the wall; they would be better covered from the street. Nearing the edge of the building, Edward snuck up to the corner, and popped his head out and back, making sure he could not see anyone. The chest-shaking growl of consuming fire filled the air. A cone of flame blasted from the alleyway that he looked down. Edward’s arms crossed his face in protection and he thrust himself backwards. Complete fear struck his voice.

              “Run, boy! Run!”

              They ran from the alleyway, following the back of the building towards a small house in the opposite direction. Brandon’s feet fumbled as he tried to run; the pain from his shoulder crippling him. Just then, the roaring howl of the woman’s magic grew behind them. As the dancing light from the fire lit the air, Brandon leapt face first into the dirt by the side of the building. He hit hard. The rumbling air got blistering hot as the wall of flame passed over him. Edward yelled out in pain.

              Brandon looked up to see the Edward on his back, holding his head up to see the approaching woman. The flame blackened his robes, now smoking, and he held his left elbow in his right hand. Brandon planted his good hand into the ground and raised his leg underneath him, pushing off hard to get to Edward. As he thrust his legs into motion, the ground beneath his boots split behind him in a loose spray of dirt. Stumbling awkwardly, he fell back to the ground. Moaning in pain, he crawled the rest of the way to Edward. Edward’s skin bled as blisters appeared. Brandon held his shoulder as he looked back towards the woman. Her hand lit with fire again, raising her hand towards the men. Hate flashed in her stunning, bright green eyes. She bore the same look that she had right before she killed him in his dream. This was it. Edward yelled in utter terror.

              Helplessness and dread swept over Brandon in a crushing wave. Everything he had done and everything he had learned came to an end. His parents were dead. Matt was dead. Margaret was dead and now he would be dead. Terror brewed within him. Thoughts of the innocent people dying because of people like this woman gripped his heart with anguish, as well as animosity. He could still feel how the searing fire had melted away his flesh before falling in his dream. The pain made his shoulder feel numb. He closed his eyes, hoping to avoid seeing the oncoming wave of molten death. Edward’s weak cries echoed within his ears. He begged her to spare them.

“Please, please, you do not have to do this. Please." Tears left streaks through the ash that powdered his cheeks. Brandon opened his eyes to look upon the maiden of death before them. As her hand reached towards them, moments before releasing the all-consuming ball of fire, she glanced away from Edward to give Brandon an evil grin. She seemed anxious to kill them; to burn them to death.

              Brandon’s whole world started collapsing, but he could not let her do this to Edward. He was Brandon’s only true friend, and had risked his life to help him. He deserved to die an old man, in good company, when it was his time. He would not die today by the hands of a torturous woman under the command of a crazed and psychotic dictator, at least, not on Brandon’s watch.

              A subtle glimmer of something alien waved within him. Her shimmering reflection danced amidst the tears that covered his eyes. In the briefest of seconds, Brandon’s shaking and cowering image flashed across her eyes, in similar fashion. For that abrupt slice in time, the woman holding a ball of fire and Brandon united. They joined at the souls. A tidal wave of indistinct ideas and impressions painted her mind. Her shoulders shook with the chills that swept over her, and as fast as that, it ended.

              She lowered her hands to her sides, as the crackling fire around her fists extinguished. A swell of water surged atop her bottom eyelids. Her right hand covered her mouth as the long stream of tears ran down her right cheek. Her words came quiet.

              She quietly whispered, “To the Gods, what have I done?”

              Edward’s face lit with never before seen confusion. His mouth opened as if he needed to say something, when the sound of metal on bone and the muffled sounds of breaking ribs turned the woman’s eyes wide. The tip of a half melted long sword tore through her chest, piercing through her robe, glazed with dripping red blood. The blade’s length grew until a small thump of the hilt hit her back. She gasped for air, eyes still searching for something she could not find. She looked down upon Brandon and Edward, and although no sound came, she lipped, “I’m sorry." With another small gasp, she collapsed to the side, her legs buckling, as the grip of death succumbed her.

              Standing behind her was the woman in the grey robes. She wore the look of hateful revenge and then spat on the ground at the fallen woman’s feet.

              “I told you I would kill you someday,” she growled, as she stared hard at the dead elementalist.

              “No, wait!” Edward cried, jerking himself to his feet. He towered over the fallen woman on one knee, and put his hand to the side of her neck. After a brief moment, he lowered his head and closed his eyes. “She’s dead.”

              Brandon tried to get to his feet, but the pain from his shoulder overpowered him. Ignoring the two in front of him, he held his hand tight to his shoulder. He focused on the pain, so vivid and real. He looked at the damage in colors. From his chest and from his lower arm, shades of blue turned yellow, then red, then nearly black as he reached the joint in his broken shoulder. All went quiet as the silence of his gift swept over him. He imagined the blue flowing into the yellow, red, and black. The colors started blending. Intense heat emanated from underneath his hand. The colors grew in brightness, until they were vibrant and blinding. After a few seconds, the colors faded off. He opened his eyes and removed his hand. The wound had healed. Edward stared at him.

              “Edward, did you just tell her to wait?” he asked, avoiding Edward’s look. “She was going to kill us! If it was not for her,” he said, looking at the woman in the grey robes, “we would have been killed,” he said, as he moved his eyes to the woman in the grey robes.

              “No!” he cried. “I don’t understand it; the second before she died I could no longer sense darkness from her! I sensed compassion, regret, and sorrow. Didn’t you see her face? Did you see her cry? Look!” he said, grabbing her chin between his hand and twisting her face to them. Visible tears streaked her cheeks from her still open eyes.

              “She held no compassion or sorrow when she killed my family, or any of the other innocent people of Darrow’s Hold. She was a murderer, and deserved a much slower and painful death than what I gave her,” the woman in the robes said, spitting on the ground again, showing her disrespect.

              Brandon pulled himself to his feet and swept away some of the dirt caked to him with his hands. Edward seemed to be the only one who noticed something different. He looked into her face, and with the tips of his fingers, he brushed his hand over her, closing her eyes.

              Brandon finished wiping his legs off, and turned to face the woman in the grey robes. He held out his hand to her.

              “Thank you, you saved our lives. We owe you.”

              She held out her hand, and gently shook it.

              “My name is Brandon, this is Edward. And you are?” he asked.

              “I am Jasmine Vylar, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

              Brandon gave her an approving nod as Edward got to his feet.

              “We are heading to Victorville to meet up with Edward’s sister. Are you from here?”

              Jasmine sorrowfully nodded. “Yes, I lived here, but everyone I know is dead. All of my things, my house, my clothes, and my shop, are now burned to ash. I have nothing left here.”

              Edward’s spoke gently. “We are going to stop Aurora. She is the one who commanded this destruction. You are welcome to join us. We do not have anything to offer you, other than our companionship, but you are welcome to it.”

              Jasmine studied him hard for a short second, and nodded once again.

              “I will travel with you, at least until something more promising comes my way. Does that sound fair?”

              “Fair enough,” said Brandon. “Is there anyone else here? Any more of Aurora’s girls, or any more survivors that you know of?”