The Willbreaker (Book 1) (42 page)

              As Gretchen slid on her back, she threw her feet over her head and rolled to a standing position, weapon pointing right towards the Templar. Aren’Fel closed the distance between them again. With a quick twist of her hands in opposite directions, Gretchen’s polearm split in two, right in the center, giving her two equal length quarterstaffs. With the push of her thumb, a small clicking noise released a spring-loaded blade from the end of the bottom quarterstaff.

              “Two blades, twice the fun,” mocked Aren’Fel. “No matter.”

              He turned towards her, blades moving so fast that they appeared as a blur. Gretchen split her feet, one leg forward, and stopped both Aren’Fel’s swords in mid-swing with a loud ‘clang’. In the same motion, she thrust her knee upward into Aren’Fel’s stomach. As he spit out the air from his lungs, Gretchen dropped her right elbow down across the elf’s face, knocking his helmet off and causing him to fall to the blood-soaked ground. Her blades were not far behind. The two blades from her quarterstaffs split the dirt in a spray of earth as Aren’Fel rolled away and bounced back to his feet.

              Aren’Fel leaped into the air towards Gretchen, body twisting as he extended his leg. Like a spun bag of rocks, his heel connected on the side of Gretchen’s face. Her head whipped sideways as she spewed spit and blood. Gretchen rotated her body away from the charging Templar, aware of his incoming attack, ducked low, and put her power into an upward attack with her staffs. Aren’Fel flew through the air, swords swinging as he pounced on Gretchen.

              Her blades connected with his, preventing him from removing her head, but the power behind his attack had force too great for her to withstand. Gretchen crumpled into the dirt. Aren’Fel chortled, but before he could say anything, two other blade maidens charged at him from his right flank.

              Like a ballet dancer, Aren’Fel moved with elegance towards them. Weapons flashed in the air, metal on metal screeched briefly, misting deep red vapor into the air, as the two other maidens toppled lifelessly on the ground.  Aren’Fel held his final attack pose, arms extended outward with his swords and his head facing towards the ground.

              Gretchen stood to her feet. Gretchen could not match Aren’Fel’s strength. His gift in that aspect surpassed hers, but she not only had strength; she controlled enhancement of the Body sphere: strength, dexterity, and speed. She needed to beat the elf by dancing.

              Aren’Fel stood up from his last attack position and turned around, spinning his swords in his hands. He wore a smile.
You will not be smiling for long, elf. Your time has ended.

              Gretchen tilted her head left and right until it popped. She smiled back at Aren’Fel.

              “Let us dance the dance of death, Templar.”

              “We are already dancing,” he replied.

              Instantly the two engaged, the blades of Gretchen’s quarterstaffs slamming into the swords of the Templar. She swiped at him again with her right hand, and as before, his weapon stopped her attack. She hesitated briefly, a break in her attack so small that no one should have noticed, but Aren’Fel noticed and she counted on it. She attacked overhead with her left hand. Aren’Fel parried it away from his body. Right hand, blocked again.

              Gretchen hesitated again, only a fraction of a second, then jumped backwards. She moved her arms around as if trying to get the blood flowing to her hands. Aren’Fel, smiling, circled around her. Gretchen rushed in to attack, right hand first. As expected, the Templar effortlessly stopped her blade. Now, the time for her hesitation. As she paused, the Templar moved in towards her open flank, blades in full swing at her unguarded ribs.
Beautiful. Stupid elf.

              She stepped lightly to her left and raised her weapons above her head. Aren’Fel had advanced too far to stop his attack, and he knew he made a mistake. The blades of her staffs dropped across his arms, cleanly severing both of them from his body at his biceps. The cuts were fast and clean. Aren’Fel’s arms, still clutching the swords, flung behind Gretchen as the screaming, armless Templar fell face first into the dirt.

              Hastily, she moved her lips up to his ear and whispered, “You lose.” The tip of her blade pointed at Aren’Fel’s side, underneath his armor. Gretchen rammed the blade into his body, burying it. The Templar made a quick gasp for air, twitched once and then froze. His mouth stayed open, along with his eyes, forever looking staggered and dazed. Gretchen left him, thoughtlessly, in search of the next person to punish.

              Aurora looked over the battleground from her tower, stroking the scar beneath her robes which ran from her belly button down beneath her seam line. She watched as Reinhold withdrew the Heart of the King and as a hundred-thousand Templars advanced her Maidens of the Blade. Earlier, she instructed Gretchen Lomire, her highest ranked Maiden, to advance only half of their standing army to battle Reinhold’s forces.

              After fifteen minutes of watching the conflict, Aurora regretted her decision. The Blade Maidens, some of the best-trained warriors on the planet, fell faster than Reinhold’s units. Aurora guessed it at five to one. Those numbers made her angry, and when she got angry, bad things happened.

              Aurora turned around and headed down the stairs. She walked quickly, focusing on the immense pool of power that awaited her within the depths of her mind. Clutched tightly in her hand, a small elephant figurine lay hidden out of sight. Aurora hastily walked out of the tower, attracting two of her Lash Lords, Princess and Flower, who without reluctance joined on either side of her.

              Orlimay’s streets were empty. Aurora and her two guards walked with purpose down the main road as they headed towards the gate. Aurora’s mind boiled, furious from the unexpected success of her enemy. Although Aurora still had half of her Maidens waiting for orders, she felt that Reinhold should not have made it
this
far. He rode through both kingdoms with an army whose numbers far exceeded her expectations and showed up at the capital city of her kingdom. As she sent women to destroy him; his men rallied and knocked her forces down.
This battle is far from over. Prepare to see why I am the Empress, Reinhold. Prepare to face my fury.
             

              Two fifty foot gates stood between her and the battleground. A horde of guards surrounded the towers that connected to the gates. The gates were iron, three foot thick, and weighed enough to crush anything beneath them. Large iron chains as thick as a man’s leg connected the doors to four round pulling wheels. Each wheel, when in full use, consisted of twenty people who pushed against the bars that extended from the wheels, like spokes. By turning the wheels, the chains would open or close the gate. It took eighty people to open and close the gates and they moved sluggishly at best.

              With a flick of her wrist, the titanic doors flung open, smashing outward with a crash. The doors did not break from their hold, but dust and debris rained down from their hinges. The guards on the ground scattered like mice from a cat. Aurora paid no regard to them as she walked out onto the battlefield.

              Brandon, Edward, Jasmine, and Blue looked onto the battlefield when the gates of Orlimay opened, as tens of thousands of Blade Maidens spilled onto the open plain area in front of the city. Brandon had trouble believing how many armed women stood ready to give their lives. Reinhold moved his armored troops out from the woods with a surprising force of elven Templars.

              “This is not going to be good,” Brandon said.

              “No, son, this is going to be terrible.” Edward responded.

              Brandon pointed out onto the battlefield as three riders broke from Aurora’s forces, heading towards Reinhold’s army. Reinhold and two of his men rode out to meet them.

              “What are they saying?” Jasmine said, curiously.

              Edward informed her of the rules of war. “Typically, before a battle, the leaders of the opposing forces meet up to discuss the terms of the war, surrender, or otherwise. Most of the time, they end up just pissing each other off and threatening each other. Yep, like that,” he said, motioning with his finger towards the group.

              One of the women reared up on her horse and she did not look happy. The three women turned around and headed back towards the city.  Reinhold did the same.

              They watched as Reinhold rallied his men and withdrew the Heart of the King. A thunderous ringing of steel echoed through the air as the sword went skyward.

              “The Heart of the King,” Edward whispered, “an artifact from the Age of Creation. It is said that sword holds all of the knowledge of kings past, and of the kings yet to come. Truly amazing.”

              Like thunder, the roar of charging soldiers burst forth as Aurora’s maidens and Reinhold’s Templars stormed into battle. Like two waves of metal and flesh, the groups collided into each other, shattering the air in noise.

              “What are we doing?” Jasmine asked quickly.

              “Waiting,” replied Brandon as he put his hand back to hold Jasmine in place.

              “We need to get into the castle to find Aurora, but we cannot rush into that battle. We will be struck down before we make it to the gates. The opportunity has to be right. So for now, we wait.”

              Blue knelt down behind them, peering intently into the battle. Kella’Dune Guardians were at their best when fighting large groups of people. His eagerness showed across his brow.

              “Settle down, Blue. In time. In time.”

              Aurora peered around the battlefield, resting her fists on her hips. She could see Reinhold across the battlefield, mounted on his horse and surrounded by his men. For one moment, Aurora thought about killing him. With a single thought, she could focus her rage on him, encasing him in weight and pressure as if a vice tightened around his skull. Slowly, she could increase the intensity of the power, more and more as he fought against the pain. He would feel the bone of his skull weaken, small cracking noises and pops, until his entire head collapsed in on itself. She had done it before to others, and judging by her victim’s screams and facial expressions, it fit the way she liked to kill those she hated.

              Aurora’s angered expression relaxed.
No. That would be too easy. He needs to see the repercussions of his decisions. He needs to suffer for bringing this to my capital city. No. I will not be so merciful. I will give him a reason to fear me.

              Aurora walked past the waiting battalion of Blade Maidens, drawing in surprised looks and gasps from the women in her army. Aurora entered the space between her fighting army and her secondary force. Ahead of her, the Blade Maidens engaged the Templars of the Highren’Dol. Bodies piled up in mounds and blood flowed like rivers through the mud. Clenching the elephant idol tightly, Aurora raised her hands into the air and looked into the sky, slowly closing her eyes. In an instant, her power flowed into her like water broken free of a thousand dams. It encompassed her, surrounded her, and it became her. Her power transcended this world; part of the earth, the sky, and the eternal stretch of galaxies beyond.

              Her eyes popped open, power pulsing behind them. Lunging forward, Aurora focused her attention on Reinhold’s armies.

              Reinhold watched the battlefield carefully. He smiled graciously as he viewed the spectacular performance of the Templars. They pushed into the maidens, toppling them like tipped bookshelves and overtaking ground with every swing of their weapons. He did not give the signal for the wild men or the nomads to act yet. He waited for the right moment, the moment when their reveal would tip the tides of battle, bringing inspiration and renewed strength to the warriors on the field. Aurora had a secondary force waiting close to the city and Reinhold did not want to make too hasty a decision to lay out all of his cards at once.

              As the battle continued, Reinhold’s confidence sapped as his worst fear came to life. From his horse, he watched as Empress Aurora walked onto the battlefield, surrounded by only two men, her Lash Lords. He froze, fearing what she could do. He stared at her as she raised her arms into the air.

              “NO! Kill her! You have to stop her!” he wailed, pointing. His horse danced around left and right. As he screamed, the men on the ground sprinted to the ballistas and trebuchets. The few element benders he had left ran forward and dipped into their power. Archers assembled frontward and the two groups of Templars that stayed with him sprinted onto the battlefield.

              Their efforts were in vain. The entire battlefield jerked. A booming and echoing crack vibrated the ground with such force that the all of the standing warriors in the battlefield tumbled over. Another loud break, sounding as if it came from within the earth itself, and the battlefield ruptured, splitting apart. A colossal fissure tore the world apart, outward from Aurora, and continued in a rapid fracture towards Cedric Reinhold. Reinhold’s horse collapsed under shaken legs and he peered up from the dirt in utter terror.