Rise of Centuria: Fall of Centuria Volume 2 Read online

  In the first room they entered outside of the magical prison had a chandelier of crystals hanging above a shiny marble floor. Emalf looked at his reflection in the floor and laughed at his scarred face. He was pleased. The room was void of any wizards, but he knew they were not far off. He could smell their stench of humanity, their magic, their fear. He told the creature, “Wait right here!”

  The creature paused. Two breaths later, several doors opened to the room with the crystal chandelier. Several wizards in dark robes walked in casually talking to each other. They were caught off guard by a lick of fire erupting from Emalf’s hands. Their robes caught fire, they screamed in pain, and the heat became so intense they felt their flesh melt before dying. Emalf laughed hysterically at the piles of burning flesh and cloth. Then he told the creature, “Let’s go.” He led the way to the next room. Other wizards had heard the screams and were pouring into the same room using their green protective aura against other magic. Emalf spit flames in their direction, but they did not penetrate their magical barrier. A wizard shot purple orbs from his hand at Emalf and the creature. They dodged the attack. Underestimating the demons’ speed, the wizards tried casting spells but were unable to finish before getting clobbered by Emalf’s powerful fists or trampled by the armless creature. Again and again Emalf and the creature tore through the humans with ease and made their way out of the citadel in which they were imprisoned. When they finally made it outside, the sun was at its highest and blinded them. In the moment their eyes were adjusting to the unwelcomed brightness, an army of warriors surrounded them, armed and ready for battle.

  Lord Emalf looked around at them and started laughing again with a deep, cynical chuckle. His strength was returning quickly now because he was out of the magical prison. The creature looked at him, concerned even for its own safety. Emalf was taking pleasure in the violence. He let out a great roar and lifted his muscular arms high into the air. The human warriors stepped back and braced themselves with shields up. Emalf slammed his fists down onto the steps on which they stood.

  “Move!” One of the leading warriors called out to the army. The ground cracked and shook. Emalf slammed his fists onto the steps a second time. The cracks spread farther. He hit the ground a third time with fists afire. Not only did the crack spread, but the ground opened up all around the human warriors with jets of hot flames erupting into a wall they could not pass or fight through. Emalf chuckled again before casting a spell that made the flames follow his command. He continued speaking in a demon tongue and the flames moved in toward the humans. They were helpless against his magic without any magic of their own because many of the wizards were still in the citadel.

  When Emalf stopped speaking, the flames returned to the cracks in the ground and disappeared. Piles of ashes with burned shields and weapons remained where the warriors once stood. The air had a wretched smell, but Emalf took a deep breath in and was satisfied. The creature watched Lord Emalf carefully. They were ready to move on when the ground started shaking again. Emalf cast a spell and levitated himself. The cracks in the ground opened wider and the creature fell into one of them. Instead of helping it, Emalf looked down at the hole, shrugged his shoulders, and with the last of his remaining strength, opened a portal to escape.

  Geoffrey woke up feeling a bit confused and lethargic. He was lying in a soft bed covered with fancy linens so expensive that he never dreamed of feeling something so fine. Looking around the chamber he realized he was in a guest room at King Sigismund’s castle. There were stained glass windows and pictures with the royal crests in them. Geoffrey thought it was a bit of overkill to have everything with the crest but kept his opinion to himself. As he sat up on the edge of the bed, a servant walked into the room and wished him, “Good morning, Geoffrey! Please get dressed for the king wishes you to join him for breakfast in the royal hall.”

  “The king wants me?” He cut his question short. “I feel I do not have the appropriate attire to join the king at this very moment.” He held up his arms showing the purple silk bedtime clothes that had been placed on him at some point without him remembering.

  “There is a suit just on the other side of the room that you may wear.” The servant gingerly pointed across the room to an area with a full-sized mirror and table.

  “Oh! Yes, I remember now. What is this all about?”

  “The king will speak to you personally about the matter. That is all I’m obliged to say.”

  In ten minutes Geoffrey stood uneasily before King Sigismund who said, “Geoffrey, kind sir, please have a seat. I have news of import to share with you. I apologize for what happened last night, but it was for your own safety. It has been brought to my attention that there is a traitor in our mix and I suspect it was one of the servants present yesterday evening. I did not want your valuable insight to be heard by prying ears so I ordered for you to be drugged. Be not alarmed, the effects are only temporary and your drowsiness shall be gone by afternoon.”

  “I feel okay now, King Sigismund,” Geoffrey lied. “I’m sorry to hear you suspect a spy amongst your people. I was to be home several days ago. May I write a letter home to my wife and daughter in Chugean to let them know I will return soon?”

  “Yes, you may. Please refrain from discussing the demons in your letter though.” King Sigismund called over a servant in a boisterous voice for the servants were commanded to stay far away from the table and give them privacy. Geoffrey wrote his letter to Kimberly and the king sealed it in his wax. Then the king ordered the letter to be delivered with haste. The servant acknowledged the order and walked away quickly. Geoffrey and King Sigismund continued their conversation and he filled the king in on all the details of his journey that he could remember. They had a delightful meal and their conversation went from sharing news to swapping stories about their childhoods. King Sigismund had a great sense of humor and they were both laughing heartily before breakfast was done.

  Geoffrey walked around the castle marveling at all the extravagant art and armor displayed throughout. Servants and other royalty walked by him and wished him a good morning. He did not feel like an outsider or a lower class member at all. Everyone treated him with kindness and respect as if he belonged in the castle with the rest. He wasn’t sure if it was the clothing that made him present that way, but it felt good. He saw a courtyard full of flowers and other plants that caught his interest through one of the windows. He looked around to find an entrance to the courtyard garden so he could get a closer look. Around the corner and to the left he saw a set of double doors cast in gold leading outside. He walked over to them and went outside to enjoy the natural beauty. While outside, loud noises began to echo through the courtyard.

  Geoffrey heard all the commotion coming from the citadel and hurried as fast as he could to see what was happening, but when he arrived it was all over. He smelled the stench of burnt flesh and saw the destruction of the recent massacre. There was no one around. Then he heard a whimper coming from one of the holes in the ground. He slowly and carefully walked to the edge of the hole to look in. A creature with no arms lay curled up in a fetal position whimpering. As terrifying as the creature appeared, Geoffrey felt sorry for it.

  He leaned over the edge and said softly, “It’s okay, buddy. The threat is gone. We will get you out,” but he wondered to himself if he spoke the truth. He thought about what to do next. Should I try and rescue this thing or leave it here to die? What if a child finds it? I better get it out of this hole, but what if it attacks me? Will it be cooperative? Does it even want to be saved? Troubled by his own thoughts, Geoffrey decided to get additional help to get this creature out of the hole.

  He told the creature he would be back and moved away from the hole. He looked around for anything he could use to help get the thing out but found nothing nearby. Curious eyes watched him from windows in the buildings by the citadel. He felt their gaze and noticed they were children watching. Did they see what just happened here, he thought. I sure hope not. Pushing th
e dreaded thoughts aside, he decided to return to the castle and inform the king about what he found.

  Passing several onlookers stunned by the current events, Geoffrey felt the pain he saw in their expressions. He pushed through the feelings and tried to remain focused on what he would report to the king. After his trip to Khalan and now this attack on the city, he realized the threat had reached the city much faster than he had predicted. Many people were in danger and he had no idea of what to expect next. He also needed help getting the creature out of the hole. One of the onlookers stopped him in his tracks and asked, “What happened here?” in a high, shrilly voice.

  “I’m not sure, but I must get to the castle. Can you keep a lookout on that hole over there?” he pointed at the opening in the ground where the creature was trapped. “Make sure no children go near it.”

  “I can,” said the onlooker. Geoffrey continued his way toward the castle looking back only once more at the devastated citadel entrance. The onlooker he just spoke to was gone as well.

  When he turned around he saw a man sitting on the corner with a thick beard on multiple colors wearing only rags. The bearded man asked, “Coin?” Geoffrey reached into his coat and pulled out the last of his coin and gave them to the man and continued on his way.

  Just as Geoffrey entered the castle, which was on the opposite side of the city as the citadel, a flying ship appeared over the site where Lord Emalf had just finished his rampage. A long rope ladder was dropped over the side and reached the ground. The onlooker who was watching all of this unfold hid from view.

  Pepper climbed down the ladder and peered into the hole where the creature was lying, “What is your name?” he called down.

  The creature looked up and answered, “Wex.”

  Wex was brought aboard Pepper’s new airship by several of the demons in his crew. Pepper studied Wex’s missing arms and planned to create an invention to replace them. He opened his book of inventions in the captain’s quarters and started scribbling down many notes with his quill.

  Wex sat patiently in a chair besides Pepper as the captain eagerly wrote down his ideas. The quill scratched across the parchment in a steady rhythmic fashion. Pepper wanted to help Wex and believed he would become useful. When he finished writing down his ideas he placed the quill in its dragon claw holder and let out a heavy sigh. “Wex! I have something for you.” Pepper lifted the book and showed Wex a picture of two arms. Wex looked at the picture and let out a grunt of approval. Pepper smiled.

  The two sat in the captain’s quarters and enjoyed a few drinks. Pepper had made a straw out of some bamboo he found on an exotic island in one of his travels. Wex was able to use the straw in his own glass without having to dunk his head into the drink or have someone hold his glass like before. He was grateful for the invention and kindness Pepper showed him. After finishing a few drinks Pepper walked over to a table of supplies and started working on his new project. Wex could feel a sense of excitement that he had not felt in a long time, if ever. His eyes dilated while watching Pepper create two arms out of scraps. A warm sensation spread over his body. He felt the warm tingling of blood in his vessels. It was a feeling of joy and he liked it.

  A knock sounded at the door. Pepper answered, “Yes, permission to enter.” The door swung open and a strong gust of wind whistled into the cabin. Several of the smaller trinkets Pepper had placed on a shelf were blown over but did not break; they just produced a loud tinkering sound as they bounced on the deck. Wex leaned against the bulkhead wishing for arms to help pick up the items that had dropped. The hopeful feeling of getting arms soon collided with his sadness of not having them in the first place leaving a sick feeling in his gut. Pepper noticed and said very confidently, “You’ll have arms soon, don’t you worry. We can fix this.”

  A betnoir entered the quarters. “Captain, we are heading over the Great Plateau and turbulent winds are approaching. What shall we do?”

  “Continue on through. This airship was made to withstand turbulence and intense battle. Tell the crew to secure themselves until we are clear of the winds. I’ll be out shortly.” Pepper walked back over to the table with the spare parts and said, “Dismissed.” The black demon bowed slightly and left the quarters in silence. Wex wanted to follow but knew he couldn’t secure himself well until he had hands again so he sat down in the chair by Pepper’s desk.

  Pepper continued to tinker with the parts and mumbling softly. Wex had difficulty telling if the human was talking under his breath out of frustration or talking as a way to guide him through the complicated task at hand. Either way, he didn’t really care. He wanted a set of arms and Pepper was going to give it to him. In Wex’s mind it didn’t matter if Pepper was insane or not.

  The time went by as Wex watched the mad scientist at work. Pepper occasionally stopped in his progress to lift his creation up and study it. The turbulence rocking the ship did not bother or distract him. There were minor details he wanted to get just right for the arms. He studied, tinkered, studied, and tinkered some more, aiming for perfection and trying to get everything in place before adding his final touch. The final touch had been used to bring the remnants to life. Pepper finished his design and flipped his book of inventions to an earlier page. Every sense was magnified as Wex watched with high anticipation.

  Pepper read from the book in a majestic voice that was unusually melodic for the captain. “Zee wei do unn melada tike drivoe.” Nothing happened. He tried again with a slight change in his tone, “Zee wei do unn melada tike drivoe.” Again, nothing happened. Pepper gritted his teeth, studied the book, and prepared to try again. He cleared his throat, “Zee wei do unn melada tike drivoe!” The arms twitched and the hands closed when he finished the last word. Wex started coughing. The arms gradually faded away in tiny pieces from the table and reappeared against Wex’s shoulders piece by piece. Wex’s coughing worsened and he bent over in agony. He was being tortured by an unseen force while the arms materialized on his body. Pepper stood back and watched with a large grin on his face, biting his lower lip causing blood to form. Wex let out the worst cough yet and fell to the floor growling in pain. The last parts of the arms faded from the table and reformed to finish the hands on Wex’s new arms. After the reformation was complete, Wex let out a few more coughs, sat up, and then studied the creation. His hands opened and closed into fists and he stared at them as if he had never seen hands before. He growled in pleasure, looked at Pepper, and forced the words out, “Thank you!”

  Chapter Ten

  At the ruins of Centuria, a strong breeze picked up and kicked up dust from the piles of debris below. It blew in their direction and hit their faces hard. The entire group tried covering their mouths and noses, but the dust cloud was moving too swiftly, forcing its way between their fingers. Dust of the wastelands that used to be the great centralized city of Centuria filled their airways, and they coughed. Hard.

  Moments later, the dust cloud had passed, and they stood there in silence. Sarella felt trickles of tears drip from her brilliantly cobalt blue eyes. Her eyes burned from the dust and tears. She thought deeply. Memories of the town that once stood in the place of the wreckage enveloped her mind. She wanted someone to share her thoughts with, but this was not the place, the time, or even the right people to share her sadness with. She wiped her eyes and her cheeks with a sleeve of her majestic silk purple robes she received from Risaldora. The soft material did not absorb well and it smeared the tears across her face although it did feel gentle across her skin. Gathar placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze.

  The rest of the group caught up to them squinting and rubbing their eyes. Gathar released his grip and took the lead. He knew where the opening was and needed to show the rest of his companions. Above them dark gray clouds filled the sky, but without any threat of rain. Not yet. Only the wind blew harshly. The autumn leaves from the Dark Forest skittered across the ground, and the air was dry and crisp. Gathar felt a wave of memories flood over him.
They used to have storytelling festivals this time of year with everyone dressing up as the fairy tale characters.

  Gathar dismounted from his horse at the bottom of the cliff side at the opening he had seen in his previous visit. He thought that their trip into the catacombs may take a long time, so he did not tie up his horse and sent it on its way hoping it would return to Chugean on its own. Without words, the rest of the group dismounted and did the same. They climbed the rocky hillside that did not exist before Centuria had fallen. Gathar heard several sobs coming from the members in his group and understood they were sobs of pain, sadness, and the major loss. Yet, they found no remains or any signs of people in the city and did not know what had happened to them. Gathar had hoped they were safe but also expected the worst.

  They reached the entrance to the catacombs several minutes later. The opening was just large enough for one person to fit through at a time. They talked amongst themselves, and Sarella volunteered to enter first with Agar because she was capable of creating light when it became too dark. With Agar by her side she could be ready for an attack as well. Agar began to hum a tune he had learned during his early days of training.

  The group pulled out their short range attack weapons and followed Sarella and Agar into the catacombs. The air instantly felt cooler inside, yet the sunlight was still keeping the first few feet of the entrance lit. After squeezing past the narrow opening they entered a large cavern. The walls and ceiling expanded in all directions. The group marveled at the size of the cavern and wondered how such a place had gone unnoticed while Centuria thrived.

  Gathar looked carefully at the stalactites and stalagmites. He felt something unusual about their existence. They reminded him of the crystals in the tunnels under Centuria where Nydraia had been. The rock formations looked hand-carved and not made by nature. They were too smooth and alike. What or who could have forged these? he thought. Sarella interrupted him. “General Gathar, this is the path we should follow.” She pointed at a tunnel on the far side of the cavern. It looked dark, cold, and unwelcoming. Gathar frowned. He didn’t know if he preferred being too hot over being too cold. As of late, he has had to adjust from one extreme to the other within several steps.