Intermission with Reason - 0.6.24 agf

After all you've done

In the central chamber of the Temple of the Silent Queen, the last of its defenders gather. A teleportation circle has been drawn before the altar. Outside, on the walls and stairs, automatons clash with the ghastly horde, gargoyles wrestle with vampiric bats and swarm onto blue dragons, but there is no chanting, no groaning and crackling of magical energies. The only mortals actively defending the temple now are the highest ranking acolytes of the Silent Queen herself, and they cast their spells as they’ve always done, without words.

Of the seven hundred defenders of the temple, twenty remain in this chamber to escape, or make their last stand. None of them are of the order of the Silent Queen. Two of them aren’t even of the Eal Empire. Kheius stamps his hooves with some impatience, while Lothmar grimly accepts the Mindshield Helm from High Priestess O’Mirava.

“This is no time for gallant last stands, girl,” O’Mirava tells her sternly. “The fall of the temple is a blow, yes, but it can be rebuilt. Lives are not so easily replaced. You must get this helm back to your guild hall.”

Lothmar hesitates, measuring the words the high priestess says carefully, not really wanting to leave. Conceding she says, "My Mother said my work isn't finished and I'm still needed. And I don't think dying here is what she meant." She bows her head then saying, "As you wish high priestess.”

Kheius leads the survivors into the Teleportation Circle and to the safety of the Tower of Astromancy in Eal. Lothmar turns and leaves last. Breathing a sigh of relief, the priestess turns a ring on her finger, dropping her disguise and activating its ability to negate her fear. Jae’Kalan had reached the front steps, and even from here she had felt the unnatural grasp of terror rising from her heart. She shakes her blue hair loose and waits.

The temple doors shuddered, then burst open. Ghouls lead the charge, running into glyphed stones on the floor and disappearing into flashes of fire. More of them pressed on relentlessly. A squad of black-robed acolytes of the Cackling Vulture advanced in formation, dispelling some of the last temple defences. There was a monstrous roar as a dragon slammed into the roof and skidded down the slopes of the pyramid before he could be rescued by his brethren.

As the horde overwhelmed the temple, a lone figure, twice the size of any man, slowly ascended the stairs outside, and a deathly chilled stillness fell on the central chamber. Jae’Kalan wore the old trappings of his Imperial rule, his battered crown, his facial chains and piercings, the Tork of Tar’Vintas, but his dark braided hair was mattered with dust and decayed things. His golden eyes were now sunken pits, spitefully brooding embers in place of the glorious and hopeful blaze they once glowed with. He carried his dread mace, Aethin’s Legacy, loosely by his side.

“I’ve won, as you can see,” he greeted her simply. “You knew I would.”

“Victory can mean many things,” Reason replied.

“You can’t claim any victory from this,” he chuckled. “There will be no repeat of your so-called Great Rebuke. I see no death revenants rise to defend you. The Silent Queen has abandoned you, and she will fall herself in due course. O’Mala’s rule will prove to be nothing more than an extended rebellion, a mere bump in the road. And yet here you stand, defending…what, exactly, Grandmother? What do you have left to fight for?”

“After all you’ve done, you have no further right to call me that,” Reason admonished him grimly.

“All I’ve done?” Jae’Kalan snarles. “All I’ve ever done is bring glory to my Empire! It is you who are the upstarts, the traitors, the…”

Reason interrupted him softly. Her words were slow, crisp and deliberate. “How about…you just go ahead and do. Whatever it is. That you came out here to do.”

Jae’Kalan gritted his teeth in silence as he drew back Aethin’s Legacy with both hands.

Outside, Governess Salsten Riley of Na’Faish and King Trost of Braeland rallied for one final charge against the besieging undead. Jae’Kalans forces had pulled back, turning in on themselves as they pulled their toughest troops to the final assault on the Temple, and outside the Legions of Eal were keen to press their advantage. Their knights and cavalry thundered forward with battle cries as they rode down skeletal soldiers and impaled cultists on their lances by the dozen. But Riley held back a little behind the front line, looking south with concern. There had been no response from the Silent Queen. The death revenants had not risen to their aid, as they had thirty years ago. Every comrade slain had risen in aid of their invader, and had to be cut down again.

As the knights pressed towards the front gates, there was a flash, and a ghastly wind, and a feeling of pressure, like everything was being pulled towards the temple. Then there was a deafening roar. Horses were screaming, some knocked in the blast to roll over their riders, but no one could hear them. Pieces of black masonry went sailing over their heads through the air as the Temple blew itself apart from the inside. In an odd deafened silence, boulders that had taken entire legions of undead laborers to move thousands of years ago thudded to the earth and rolled over knights and horses without so much as a crunch. Then it was still. The survivors rose, ears ringing, to look about in confusion. And then they ran, as a figure emerged from the temple ruins, and an unreasoning sense of dread grasped their hearts.

“WHERE ARE YOU, WINTERGREEN?!?” Jae’Kalan roared. “WHERE ARE YOUR CHAMPIONS? WHERE ARE YOUR LITTLE WARRIORS? HOW MUCH OF YOUR FAMILY MUST I REMOVE FROM EXISTENCE BEFORE YOU’LL FACE ME?”

Against every instinct telling her to abandon all thought and run, Riley scrambled to her feet to find King Trost. They somehow found each other through the swirling dust and sand, and together pulled horns from their belts and sounded for a retreat. There was nothing left here to defend.