Chapter 16: Riven

  The ground shook violently as the mouths along the Aeon Divider laughed. Each leaving an echo behind that grew louder and louder. Until it became one violent screech that threatened to tear their ear drums asunder. Static buzzed in their ears as the laughter ended. The Idol ones that circled the group began to melt, into steaming piles of tar. The substance congealing, and streaming their way to both wounds, of the Divider and Ravoclaw. Gwyrdd shimmered in Tobias hands as he stared the Aeon Divider down. The dragon tattoo on his arm faded. The sword collapsed into his skin. Green glowed from his arm, which had turned into talons from when he pushed The Forgemaster.

  His arm shook violently. Fingers tightened around a sphere of light. It trembled and reflected in his draconian eyes. The power within was unstable. With crackling green streaks, they lit up his face. In all forms of energy, the sword was used a different kind of weapon.

  Bend the energy to your will. Shape it to whatever you wish. There is no correct way to wield, only its use to disperse the shadow. Countless voices spoke to him. Clearer than before, no longer tangles of static. Though they reverberated one after another. For a brief moment, Tobias tried to search through the voices to find Grael’s. He could not find it. His attention back to the Aeon Diver.

  The Divider's mocking laughter echoed through the air, a chilling symphony that rattled their cores. Its form began to shift and contort, bones cracking and merging, sinew stretching and reforming, as it ascended to a more menacing state. Congealing all around them the Idol ones began to melt. Into thick black puddles. The wounds of both on both the creatures began to heal. The Ravoclaw grunted. Its eyes ablaze. Sludge, bile and black spilled out from its stomach and sides. Additional limbs writhed to life. Four new coated weapons, chunks of steel, overtaken by tar.

  Covering the opening of the welding helmet, the black tar coursed over it. Several feet away it sat. Bent and misshapen as if it got ran over by a truck. Mist filled Grants vision. Sweat glands worked overtime. Blood dirt and grime formed into puddles. Hammers shakily at his sides. He thought, as malformed beast constructed to new forms.

  This is just like my’ god damn nightmares. Well least there ain’t much lava. Our bodies are still in one piece. Not hangin’ from a high place. Mutilated and splayed for all to see. Yeah, this is ten times worse than anything else. Can’t stop shaking. At this rate I’m going to shit my britches. This is much worse than the first time we found this thing. Even our defense at Clausum. Grant took deep breaths. The rancid smell of battle entering his lungs. Fear taking hold as he recalled a memory.

  Grant let out a breath in the foggy morning air. The mist weaved through his ears and short blonde, brown hair. A light breeze made its entrance from the sea. The morning streets empty. Bells rang slightly as flags fluttered. The wind met and shook the hair that fell to his shoulders. His back began to dampen. The wood of the outpost was wet from the night before. Fingers calloused and bruised from weeks of training. The threat of the Empyerals and Grayland increased concerningly.

  Over the past few years their crusades of zealotry began to ramp up. From what felt like corner to corner of the globe, there was no place where their hands were left untouched. There had always been three results. Death, branding or ascension. The world had felt at peace in Insmourn. Why did Grayland feel the need to force their beliefs on them? There were currently no external or internal threats to the world. The Idol ones from wars past, deep in slumber. The Travels Stair, a launching point for exploration to other worlds stayed relatively peaceful. The one in Clausum Mare was new. Since its construction, the biggest threat monitored was oncoming debris. Often it burned up in the sky. Any intact remains taken to the forge.

  “Damned fools, I tell you. My day off from searching The Forge for glorious scrap.” Grant mumbled aloud.

  “Tuck in your marbles. Its not going anywhere.” Arms crossed, Metlock sat across from him. A black bowler cap rested over his eyes as he replied to Grant. Rusty steel struck against his coal iron-colored jeans. To Metlock’s side, a sabre rest, stuck in the wood.

  “I will end up missing the good stuff!” Grant pleaded as he took a swipe at the gun Metlock had.

  Metlock was too quick for him. He threw his arm above his head and used the other to peak out from under the hat.

  “Sorry partner. Your scavenger hands will never touch this beauty.” Metlock said, letting a smirk take over his face.

  “Oh to hell with ya. Can I at least aim down the sights for a moment.” Grant asked.

  “No can do. Lockjaw is bound to me. Have to get good. At finding the highest quality and striking pieces of scrap.” Running two fingers over the gun. Metlock removed the morning mist as he spoke.

  Grant got closer to Metlocks face. Who just eyed him slightly worried. Water flung in Metlocks eyes as Grant took a hatchet from his side. Grant held it out centimeters from Metlocks face. In response he casually took his hand and moved it away slowly.

  “Do you not see how great this is? The pristine shape? The quality of the blade? Its exquisite features, seemingly untouched by the gentle cradle that is The Forge?” Grant said as he began to go into a tirade.

  Metlock frowned at Grant before tipping the cap over his eyes and stuck his head in between two beams of wood.

  “Yes, yes, I can see that. That’s what, the fiftieth “amazing” scrap you found in the past week? How long will that last, a couple minutes?” Metlock asked as he tried to hide.

  Grant got closer, trying to show the details and intricacies of the hatchet. Going over every nook and cranny. Metlocks pleading groans were answered. His hat fell off the outpost. Foggy sets of lenses came to a cloth, gently being wiped off. The other five had woken up. Being free from watch duty the night before. The group donned their Clasum police academy attire. Lydon sported a pair of black shades. Recently he had become reluctant to take them off. Solace could hardly keep his eyes halfway open. Glasses slipped to the bridge of his nose with each step.

  The seven of them gathered at the base of the outpost. Their last days of the academy coming to an end, one month left. Dreadful though it was. Grayland zealots became more of a threat each day. Forceful removal of people from their homes. Babbling on about the removal of their flesh. How it would save people’s bodies and their minds. From the decay of the Axioma. The slow erosion of life and the land. Great crystals losing their power. Darkness, old as the abyss coming to eradicate the last traces of light.

  Grant looked at Tobias pensively. Wondering how deep Tobias got lost in all that history. How much he believed it to be true. Sure, traces remained over time. The Idol ones still sat, becoming more irrelevant at every passing second. Tobias had become more distant to the group in recent months. Some old tribe had come into contact with him. Maxwell had often found him down in the annals. Passed out sleeping over stacks of books. Mostly to do with details of the Starlight Impact. The various events that shaped the world to what it is now.

  Grant let out a deep sigh into the morning. Everyone else had been a few good paces ahead. Watching all of them, he could only hope the band would stay intact.

  Maybe it’s just father time, separating us. Blasted old man, we will part on our own terms. The damp morning kicked up under his boots, as Grant thought. Spit struck the ground. Bubbles lingered as they trekked into the morning.

  Mist lingered through the city streets. As if one of the gods sat upon the shore, their steady breath making life with each exhale. Grant caught up with Solace, giving him a quick smack on the shoulder. He nearly stumbled face first but managed to keep his balance. Wearily he looked to Grant, adjusting his glasses.

  “How’s it going? Anything exciting happen last night?” Solace said, as they peaked through alleys and blocks.

  “Nothing out of the usually. Just glad I wasn’t paired with Lydon. I would go mad from all of the Tuelere Pisces talk. Ooh no, here comes the big bad fish to steal my soul. It’s an old fisherman’s told.” With a quick peak Grant looked to make sure Lydon wasn’t looking back, as they spoke.

  Solace gave out a hearty laugh.

  “With you there pal. Luckily enough, last night he just spoke about new projects. He’s really looking forward to working with Ballistic. Already has plans to make some helpers.”

  “Not shocked. The mad wizard at work. Did have a question for you.”

  Solace tilted his head to grant quizzically. His yellow eyes opened wider with curiosity.

  “You are quite the geek yourself Solace. Believe in any of that Axioma or Starlight impact nonsense?”

  Solace turned his gaze upwards. Thinking that possibly, somewhere in the foggy gray sky, he would find the correct answer.

  “Yeah, I do. From the little I’ve learned. Just think of the Idol ones here and their structures and technology. Can see some giant crystals giving power. We have seen several, just not the “Grand daddy” so to say.

  Grant was about to reply before a scream rang out. Blood pulsed behind his eyes. Hopefully it was just a rogue racoon.

  Glass shattered as a body came flying out from a two-story home. Blood, glass and the splattering sound as it hit the pavement. Grant and Solace jogged up behind the rest of the group. Several paces away, a mangled corpse lay. Blood and steam rose from the body. The steady sound of boiling filled the silence. The bones soon collapsed into black dust. From the home, three figures emerged.

  Clad in the darkest gray armor, they marched towards the body. Two held staves close to their bodies. Expressions unknown, their black eyes under the winged and curved horn helmets offered nothing. Iron spikes rose for defense, along their gauntlets. Blood falling from them to the steel boots. The curved blades atop the staves morphed into strange shapes. One of the armored soldiers took a few steps forward. The stave violently turned into a spear, as it was thrust to the side.

  Their momentum was stopped. A steel hand flashed through the mist. The hand firmly placed on their shoulder, they stopped and simply nodded. Grant could make out long white and reddish hair and red eyes. The figure held a lantern, and the black substances from the body was quickly sucked into it. To the opposite side the other soldier knelt on one knee. Extending their hand.

  “Avaron, my liege. If you allow it, I shall deliver this back to the soul farms.” The soldier said, their voice gravelly and deep.

  “Yes. Double check the dwellings we have already visited. If you do find any crystals, bring them directly to me.” The hood fell over his eyes as he stood.

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  Red light gathered at his fist, as he clenched them tightly. Several feet taller than them, he came closer. The red light emanating through the fog like a light house. Warning the ships of oncoming danger. The small crew of Clausum Mare did not have that grace period, it was too late. They had crashed against the rocky shore.

  Like an unscalable cliff, Avaron’s gazed dug deep into the group. Grants body shuddered as their gaze met for a moment. The pit of his stomach dropped, fingers spasming in the cool morning air.

  “What a shameful display. Clausum Mare, what a great disappointment. To send such talent directly to their deaths.” The mist parted around them. Turning into a small arena, as the light pushed the misty air against the buildings.

  “Fear not though, young sparks. I see that latent power locked behind you. Why Heatherweald’s influence hasn’t shaped you yet, is curious indeed. Come with me. I will bring out that power. Then we can save ourselves from the collapse of this world and our very essence.” Avaron’s fist came unclenched, as he offered a steel hand out to them.

  To dumbstruck to say anything, no one made a move. Grant could swear the only thing he could hear were droplets of water. With his other hand, Avaron gave a dismissive motion with his hand. The two guards accompanying him left. The one not carrying the lantern, turned and gave them a quick look over. Grant could feel the unsettling smile, somewhere deep within the mask. Into the mist they went. Black and a dimmer yellow light from the lantern went out of view.

  Metlocks hat tilted off his head. Lockjaw shaking in his hand. He was the first who dared to move or say a word.

  “I don’t know what you are babbling about but the answer is no. Think you can just wade your shiny ass into town, kill, take their ashes and lecture us that the end is nigh? Get lost!”

  Before Avaron could say another word, a blast rang out. Gunpowder ignited from Lockjaw and screamed towards the man. Unamused by Metlocks reaction, Avaron casually swatted the bullet away with a single finger. Before Metlock could squeeze the trigger a second time, blood sprayed into the air. Severed from his body, Lockjaw and Metlocks entire arm lay just before Solace and Grant.

  Avaron held a long blade that curved like a serpent in front of his face. Red and black energy spewed from within it. Grant couldn’t move a muscle. As the others rushed at Avaron. There was nothing he could, but stare into death. The fear had taken root.

  Days turned to months. Then into years as time in Clausum Mare went on. The group had solemnly passed the police academy. Though one had been absent for most of it. Metlocks arm had been sliced cleanly off from the shoulder. While he was knocked out for about a month, the Clausum Mare Academy gave him a reward. Just like the others had received, a badge of honor. On one of Grants visits, he placed the medal, Metlocks hat, and gun next to his bedside.

  On many occasions, Grant wanted to geek out about some of the finds he had found at the forge. Metlocks distant and cold eyes stopped him though. Sat up in his bed, gazing at his stump. Grant had often wondered if he had been like that the whole night. Stress had begun to eat away at Grant in droves.

  He had taken up at the forge to get his mind off things. Perhaps digging through all the scrap would give him the answer he sought. Why Avaron had come. How to cheer up Metlock. The group had been separated from time to time as the academy days had ended. Grant found himself in the company of Solace the most often. The others being sent out for their jobs.

  The two would spend hours upon hours going through the forge. Most often gathering parts for the part of Solaces work. He had taken up repairing and repurposing shuttles at Travelers Stair. Solace had often mused of other worlds and energy more of late. Searching the stars and distant past, for traces of the crystals. Grant could never get it out of him, why did his search never stay level, on their own world.

  On break in the forge Grant knelt on one knee, deep in forges bowels. Powerless and cracked from time, crystals drained their power, sat dead in glass chambers. Recently some had been found to give more power to the forge. Energy still gathered in their cores. Grant reached at his hair. While his hand went through, he pulled a good chunk of it out. In the reflection of the glass his eyes sunk, water coming to his eyes from the side.

  I’ve done nothing but hide here. Away from the madness of life. Can’t’ even keep a straight face now. Reckon I look like a madman. A farmer without a cow. He thought.

  Placing his head on the crystal, his mind wandered. Till he found himself in a chamber lit by magma. Giant orange crystals to the side. Several stories up, blobs like a lava lamp made their ascension. A sharp sound rattled his ears. An anvil, struck with a hammer. Sparks flew in the room. The ground shook, separating the blobs within the lava lamp. This continued as Grant took cautious steps in.

  Flesh cut and seared atop a giant body. Sitting on their knees, the giant being struck at the anvil. Lacerations stitched and blackened flesh. Their body was mostly the color of clay. Outside of all the wounds. The hammer was poised to strike, then froze. Grant thought of booking it. To where exactly? Too late for that. The giant smashed the hammer into the ground next to him. Strong enough to lift him off the ground, as it exploded all around him. Yellow and orange eyes, fixated on him. Fire for hair, blazed up on the giant’s head. Grant had been in his giant palm. The ground crumbled into the dark below them.

  “Hello, Grant. Extension of myself. In this moment, I’m afraid you cannot escape.” With a fiery, humorous laugh, the giant bent its knees and stood.

  “Well…uhm. Hey there. How do you do stranger?” The giant’s hand was warm, as Grant placed his own hands on it, and got to his feet.

  “I’ve enjoyed better days. Surprised you’ve come to me after all this time.” The fiery eyes gazed up. Before fixing back on him.

  “I beg your pardon? I definitely did not seek you out, pal.”

  “Stubborn as ever. Do not keep hiding down here in the dark, Grant. You just may have the tools, to help those suffering.”

  “Yeah right. I couldn’t even help one of my best pals.”

  “If you stopped acting like a possum, perhaps so. Understand this, I’ve brought fire to worlds. Made tools to create. Shaped worlds and beings made out of clay. All to stifle the Divide. Granting the ability to at least stand against the dark.”

  Grant’s eyes twitched as he took the information in. The giant began to lose his balance. Darkness below sinking him. Unphased by this the giant calmly placed Grant in front of the anvil.

  “Do consider picking up the hammer. Or both of us will fade into the dark. Though being punished for the fire I’ve brought, it has been worth it. Don’t lock yourself in a cage. When the end comes, regret of inaction will take hold. There will be always what ifs. Keep us locked up in here, and we’ll rot in the dark with our regrets.”

  Speechless Grant stared at the giant’s flaming eyes as he sunk. When the light from its eyes faded underneath the mire of dark, so did the crystals light. Grant scrunched his face and reached to the anvil. A giant hammer, waiting to be grasped once more. His hand fell to his side. Thinking of Metlock again. How he lost his arm. How after Avaron left them with zealots hiding in the mist. The freakish strength of Tobias, Maxwell and Helix, as the three of them alone held them off. While Solace and Lydon watched dumbstruck. Stumbling back, Grant stepped on robotic faces. Long powered off scrap crunched underneath. Circuit boards and panels snapped.

  He sighed and gave the crystal one last look. Must be coming down with a fever. Or spending a bit too much time down here.

  Shaking his head, he began to pull out his hair. It was time to hunt in the garbage.

  The same feelings of helplessness caught Grant as the abomination transformed. Just like Avaron had all those years ago. The others doing their best, while all he could see were their backs. Metlock had Lockjaw extended, a strange energy emitting from the barrel. The Vulture-like creature stumbled back. Its oval head had been riddled with bullet holes. With one large, opened pit shot through the center of its head. It still wasn’t dead after all that.

  One of the vultures hunched lower. Its three tongues tangled together, forming into a long dagger-like shape. Drool fell down its blackened, feathered steel body. Seemingly unaware of the one that broke off, Metlock aimed to fire at the one staggered from the shots. The other, going for the killing blow from behind.

  Avaron’s blade flashed in his mind.

  “Not again. Come on partner. MOVE IT!” Grant became tunnel visioned. Locked on the bastard sneaking up to strike Metlock from behind. Fire reflected in its eyes at turned, puzzled at the situation. Like a baseball being struck off a tee, the vultures head launched off its body with a high velocity. Its eye sockets burnt up. The flaming head smashed into other idol ones, igniting into an inferno.

  The laughs from the Aeon Divider stopped. An eerie silence took over as it morphed shapes. It stood on four fleshy gray and black tentacles for legs. Its torso thin and human like covered in bones. Acting as armor. Three thin, bony human-like hands fell to the sides. From its neck up formed a single tentacle. The skin where the mouth began to tear. Human teeth formed where the mouth usually should be. With just the mouth and teeth, the skin around its neck stretched and pulled. With a wicked smile. It waved a finger at the Ravoclaw, which continued its advance at Tobias.

  Tobias held out his arm. Green energy gathered around it. Extending from the palm a sphere of light formed. Before shaping itself into a blade. The energy around it, curled up his arm. Rusted teeth clamped and gripped onto the blade. The Ravoclaw barring down on him. Was it that fast? Or had he been lost in thought? Perishing the thought he swung right with Gywrdd. Its teeth still gnashing down, the Ravoclaws giant body shuddered. The slash cut open the side of its mouth. Black blood hit the ground as it let go. Whining in pain, metal screeches filled the air.

  Tobias walked toward the beast with blade out. Memories flooded into him of battles fought through the ages. He looked at the Ravoclaw with pity.

  This clearly isn’t you. Am I even me? It’s hard to figure, with all the voices and memories. We will release it from its torment. Wait, what did I mean by we?

  Tobias readied the blade across his face as he charged. Like he had done this before. Across countless battlefields and worlds. The black tendrils from the Ravoclaw detached and swung. Tendons tightened and bleed as they squeezed. With Tobias dodging out of the it lowered its head to counter. The single remaining tusk from their encounter on the derelict boat pointed at him. Rusted yet sharp. The red and black eyes of Archveil looked at him with fury. Tobias swung out Gywrdd once more to the right of the creature’s mouth. The blow struck. Inside its mouth he swung and dragged the blade through the side of its mouth. Screeches of pain rose. Black blood spilled out from the wound. Tobias swung around violently. Scattering more blood across the room.

  In a rage it continued to swing at him. Even though it had lost a lot of blood, it kept on. Gywrdd dug into its steel claws as they clashed. With both pushing, the sword sliced through the middle. The claws did find their mark however and got a good slash on his upper torso. With his arms covered in thick dragon scales, he took his left hand and dug into the beast face where the tusk was. Three claws took grip on its brown and rusted tusk. Agonizing pains rang out as the tusk was removed. Tobias chucked it away.

  With half of its front paw missing from the strike, it stood on its back legs. Its fork tongue came out. Lusting for blood, as it had murdered the sailor attempting to escape. Tobias took hold of it. Like a wild bull it tried to shake free. Firm in his grasp, Tobias kept the beast from moving too much.

  Time to rest for good. Tobias sliced up and through the Ravoclaws neck. Its head detached easily. Gwyrdd ate through it like it was a fickle leaf. With a pool of black blood, the rest of the Ravoclaw collapsed. The wires inside flailed frantically to connect. Unable to find connections, they fell dead into liquid below, right under the severed head.

  Lydon was out of breath. He bent over and struck the ground with his fist. Both the orange and purples fell from his now torn up shirt. Tremors from the ground rocked him. One crystal in each hand he struggled to his feet. The sea behind him kept flashing from blue waters, to a black oily hellscape. The sky above cracked. Just like when He and Tobias found themselves running from the world they stumbled into. This time spires of black littered the area. Countless eyes watched from obelisk.

  Bodies hung or staked upon the top. From humans to giant whales. Octopus like creatures emerging from wounds. All the while, the Aeon Divider kept making motions with its boney hands. Its smile became more sinister as Tobias approached; blade drawn. Lydon summoned the last of his energy. He had a feeling he would lose Tobias if the two started to fight. Hell, not just him. Everyone, and everything would be lost. Orange light flickered along the ground as he ran.

  A flash of orange raced past Tobias. Lydon a few steps behind him, ran out threw the crystal.

  “Like hell that little thing will actually do something.”

  Tentacles curiously picked it up, as it harmlessly bounced off. It brought the crystal up in front of its teeth. The rose opened as the mouth. An eyeball peered from inside the Aeon Dividers mouth. It cradled the crystal in its eyes and the manic laughter began again.

  “The work of Dracofynth no doubt. I can taste the desperation lingering behind.” The laughs grew into a cacophony. From underneath the eyeball a sickly pale pink tongue licked the crystal. The eye turned its focus to Eralar and Melaine in the back.

  “Suppose I will leave you a gift. Enjoy.” The Aeon Dividers fingers moved in specific motions. Eralar gasped and came to. New symbols etched into her flesh as the Divider cackled.

  “So, primitive yet effective. Till our next skirmish.”

  Mocking laughter continued. Orange light began shrouding the entity before them. Vanishing in an instant. Only the sound of waves hitting the rocks remained. The idol ones fell silent again. Their bodies corroded into an unrecognizable heap.

  Exhaling from cover within the ruins, a scope that had been trained on the group for some time, went dark. Tobias had attempted to strike, but it had been too late. With the battle seemingly ending, his body gave way after taking a couple steps. Onyx ran up to him but stopped. He looked at Tobias like he was someone else entirely. Lydon came up and gave him a nudge.

  Tobias came back to his senses. Green light had blindfolded him. Nearly taking him to slumber. With weary eyes he nodded at Lydon. Onyx, recognizing the glint got closer. Fingers ran through the dog’s fur, gently scratching behind his ears.

  “Don’t worry buddy. Still here.”