POV Change: Chief Utren of the Lethix Clan.
Recap: Elinor is moving upon the Clans, starting with the Lethix, and after going through an emotional send-off for their lost brothers and sisters from the hurricane during the night. Now, they must prepare for this rising Empress’ entrance, contending with the crazed descriptions one of their young warriors returned with.
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Chief Utren’s mouth felt dry; he couldn’t stop sweating as his clan gathered together for the arrival of this supposed Supreme Chief. The sun’s warmth continued to increase, causing many of his people to drink and splash water on themselves from the stream running down the center of town.
He stood in-between the warriors and his people; everyone who wasn’t skilled at fighting stood beside the river if things took a turn for the worse while the fighters took up positions around the clearing, waiting for the arrival of Supreme Chief Elinor.
Utren leaned down to splash some of the cool liquid on his face, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves before dipping his face in to quench his mouth. Rubbing his wet hands across his brow and neck, he glanced around at his village, noting how crowded it was becoming as the Clan was recalled to the area.
Over six-hundred Ri’bot gathered from his call across the territory, and more were returning from their tasks around the borders. Their entire force of one-hundred and seventy-two warriors were present, including Welix, their only Xaria; he stood at the front, directing Ri’bot to their defensive lines, and giving sharp orders to watch the trees for the scouts to return.
I’m leaving our borders completely unprotected, but how can I ignore this? Yeppa may be a little rash, and he’s been itching to get a chance at one of the Wixum females, but he was never a liar. He followed the Warrior’s Code to the syllable, and yet…
His focus turned to the young warrior, sitting beside the stream with his eyes closed, body lowered, arms resting atop each other in the position of prayer to the Supreme Chiefs. Yeppa had calmed, and there seemed to be a sense of clarity that had taken a hold of him after delivering his message. It was as if the reality of what he was saying had begun to sink in, and he’d accepted his own statement as a matter of fact.
How did it turn out like this?
Utren’s blue irises surveyed the crowd, noticing the fear on his people’s faces as the news spread, they were on War-Time Alert. However, the thing that scared them wasn’t war, but that this was not the one they had expected. He could hear Supreme Chief Elinor’s name on his people’s tongues as he moved between his warriors and normal clansmen.
Few could comprehend the very thought that a Supreme Chief would descend to address them personally instead of working through a Speaker, and yet, here they were, awaiting the arrival of an Ascended One they’d never heard of.
If that wasn’t enough, with Yeppa’s message came another startling revelation, Elinor was not just a member of the Supreme Chiefs, but comparable to The One Above All, which confused Utren, yet the explanation also made him think.
A counterpart to The One Above All … The Empress, which means The One Above All, which rules over The Pit. I haven’t thought about it … no one has, but there must be a Chief that rules over the Eternal Pits. Our ancestors must have forgotten about her … but why, and what does that mean for us or our ancestors that died without knowing?
He paused, causing his two armed escorts and his father to halt, following his gaze to Yeppa, still in a solemn prayer. Valdar’s been to The Pits? He was a living legend … one of the eldest Ri’bot in The Valley to have lived during The Fire Wars, and now he serves this Supreme Chief that has come among us? If Valdar has really returned with Supreme Chief Elinor’s powers, and as young as Yeppa explained, what else can we do but bend the knee?
The great storm that shook the valley last night, with the Ascended Chiefs throwing down their cold wrath was not without purpose … it must have been a sign of Empress Elinor’s arrival, but why rage? Why were they angry? I suppose I won’t have an answer until she arrives.
“Chief?” His father asked, shifting his left shoulder to the left to the right to indicate he wished to speak to him in private.
Utren’s gray tongue slid out of his mouth, wetting his lips before waving his left hand at his guards, telling them to move beyond hearing. Several of the villagers noticed his gesture and moved back themselves to give the Chief and Former Chief space to speak in private.
Tone sounding a little more grave than he wanted, Utren breathed out a tired sigh, scratching his slick cheek. “What is it, Father.”
Dren shot a puff of air through his nostrils before sniffing sharply, nose twisting with agitation. “I don’t like how this is playing out; we’re on the defensive and extremely exposed.”
“I agree,” Utren muttered, rubbing his left shoulder while glancing around at the formations they were taking, “but what would you have me do? We’re not talking about one of the other Clans or a weak attempt at a Clanless raiding party. No, we’re dealing with a potential … I hesitate even to call her a threat.
“Yeppa says a Supreme Chief … a counterpart to The One Above All has come down to bring us back to the proper path. Valdar is supposed to be with her, brought back from The Pits, and spoke to Yeppa with his own mouth. I … don’t know what else I should do, Father. If we attack a Supreme Chief, then last night’s storm is the least of our concerns, and I won’t put the entire Clan at risk of burning in The Pits.”
“That’s my concern,” Dren growled. He swallowed a hard lump in his throat, forcing him to blink. “Let’s say this is all true…”
“I can’t see anything that would point otherwise, other than the fact none of our histories has told us such an event could occur.”
“Right … which is why I’m wondering about our plan if this falls apart.” Dren paused, sucking his lips in, pressing his teeth against the skin. “Let’s say this Empress Elinor decides we are guilty of a crime, and rains down the heavens’ wrath upon our heads, then what good will it do to have the children and non-warriors jump into the river?”
Dren licked his lips again. “Could this even offend her? We may even be allowed to escape, but none can outrun The Pits, and the moment we die, we will drown in the Great Heavenly River to fall back into her grasp, now true offenders for seeking to escape punishment in life. In life, we can atone, but once we pass into the Great Heavenly River … we will sink like stones.”
Utren’s teeth cut into his lips, drawing green blood that dripped down his chin, and his nose twisted at the thought. No … I need to be calm to reassure the clan.
Taking a shuddering breath, he cleared his throat before wiping away the blood with the back of his hand. “I understand your concern, Father, but you must also have considered the possibility that this is a ploy by our enemies to let down our guard. It could be from clans outside the valley, which have already taken over the Prume, Delthax, and Wixum Clans; we haven’t seen any patrols along the Wixum border.”
“Yes, but that could also be a product of the storm and Ancestor’s Wrath that has pulled their attention away from the edges of their territory, and forcing them to focus inward. I also doubt the Prume, Delthax, and Wixum Clans were conquered without so much as a warning to the surrounding Clans. If there is an outside threat to the valley, we can put our differences aside for the common good.
“I also doubt many Clans would use such a dishonorable tactic as claiming the physical personage of a Supreme Chief, much less a counterpart to The One Above All, as has descended to rule us personally. The level of sin and disgrace … the thought never even crossed my mind until an hour ago, and even now, I feel dirty with it in my mind. No, the thing that really burns my blood is Yeppa’s statement that Valdar was among them, and young.”
Utren worked around his jaw, turning to observe the eyes locked on him and his father; the Clan might not be able to hear their words, but they could see their expressions and movements. “You knew Valdar when you were a small boy.”
“Yes, he was a legend that my father would speak about, and his Clan was elevated greatly because of his work during The Fire Wars. If what Yeppa says is correct, then who else could accomplish that other than a Supreme Chief? Plus, she has Quen’Talrat, burning boned horrors of the past with Thélméthra by her side.”
Dren breathed out a heavy sigh. “Look, you know me, Chief, and you know that I’d be the first to pick up my spear in defense of my people.”
Utren’s lips tightened, knowing his father’s legacy as a true warrior. “I do, Father.”
“Then let me tell you, that this does not sound like a war that we can win by force, and Yeppa stated that she’d give us one chance to join her. Everything will become clear once she arrives, but we cannot be seen as aggressive, even in a defensive state.”
“Okay,” Utren sighed, resisting the urge to bend down and look at the dirt in frustration. “How would you receive them?”
“Have our weapons, but leave them in the mud or within their sheaves. Have the warriors in front, but make a path, and make sure those in the front have shields, in case of the slim chance this is a tactic that would, in my opinion, cause the Supreme Chiefs to strike them down on the spot. We need to be welcoming, but ready, not ready for a siege. We cannot be like the Quen’Talrat during The Fire Wars.”
Utren turned away from his father to stare at the hundreds of faces that waited anxiously for their private speech to be over. His mind dwelled on his father’s advice, which was nothing like he expected from the battle-hardened Former Chief.
After several seconds, he took a deep breath before letting it out in a slow stream, motioning for his guards to join them again. When they arrived, Utren turned to the left Ri’bot; he was a young warrior during his father’s war days, but now a full-fledged brute of a fighter that had saved his life multiple times during skirmishes with the Delthax and Clanless. “Norim.”
“Yes, Chief?”
“Go get Welix for me.”
“Chief!” He raced off, leaving Dren, Utren, and Jaliv.
Addressing his second guard, Utren smiled at Jaliv; he was a Wet-Blood or a warrior that had just achieved his full rank by combat in defense of the Clan, repelling a Clanless attack while killing his tenth combatant warrior. “Jaliv, go grab Utila.”
Jaliv swallowed hard, showing a small blush at the name as he saluted and rushed off.
Dren chuckled softly with a sad smile on his lips. “It makes me sad to see so many hearts broken, and shockingly, warriors’ hearts.”
“Yeah, she’s an odd one,” Utren mumbled.
They didn’t have to wait long since the girl was usually surrounded by the large pool of eligible males in the Clan, making it easy to find her.
Utila was reaching her second year, meaning she would soon be the suitable age to wed, and it didn’t help her case that she was the most lovely girl to be born to the Clan in two generations.
Even Utren’s father, at age sixty-three, had seen few female Ri’bot so lovely; her beauty, mixed with the shortage of female births had placed the women of the Clan on a high standing, and there were a lot of fights started with the warriors that the girls seemed more than willing to humor.
However, Utila was a bit different from most of the girls in the Clan; she seemed to only have affections for one Ri’bot, and he wasn’t even a warrior. Her parents had counseled her about choosing some of the young New-Bloods that had shown promise, giving her more standing in the Clan, but her light-blue eyes were centered on Gomal.
Gomal was a Craftsmen, and a good one, but an Artisan nonetheless, which did not gain nearly the same attention in the community as even a minor warrior. He was soft-spoken, and nowhere near a fighter, but Utila, the Clan Gem, had long had her eye on him.
She had chosen the path of a Gatherer, jumping into the Flaming River to hunt for resources, and Gatherers needed Craftsmen to create their tools. Thus, the two of them had developed a bond since they were four months old, doing everything together. The other warriors despised him for it, but what could they do without tainting their honor?
Still, he received flack from the other Craftsmen, and it wouldn’t be fair to discount Utila’s own struggles with the few females around her age, with even the mothers of the Clan’s young males making it a point to turn a cold shoulder to the girl. Yet, it did little to dampen the bright atmosphere surrounding the two, which Utren respected.
The pretty gray-skinned girl rushed over to meet Utren with Jaliv by her side, unable to keep his eyes off her slimmer than standard figure; however, that wasn’t to say she didn’t have muscle. As a Gatherer, and specifically a Hunter, Utila may have been slim, but she was also tight from her time in the river.
One of the most striking features of Utila was the three serrated teeth on the left side of her mouth with two on the right. Three teeth were extremely rare and seen to indicate great beauty.
When she was seven months old, a few of the older girls, around a year of age, had tried to knock her third tooth out, which had angered more than a few of the male Ri’bot. The reputation had caused their vast pool of prospective suitors to shrink rapidly, and they’d been forced to settle well beneath their standing.
Utren’s features softened as his vision moved to Utila’s shining face; it was somehow soothing to look at the beautiful girl, and her voice was like touching Nalvean silk, smooth and calming. Few pieces of the delicate fabric had survived the passage of time since they’d received them during The Fire Wars, which furnished Utren’s house, but it was the only thing worthy of comparison to the harmony that left Utila’s throat.
“Chief Utren, Former Chief Dren,” she bowed after approaching them. “You asked to see me, Chief?” She asked with a curious smile.
“Yes, Utila. I’d like you to organize some of the men and women to prepare to meet a Supreme Chief.”
“Oh,” Utila chuckled, voice becoming nervous. “I, umm—I heard a rumor about a Supreme Chief coming to visit us, but … it’s true?”
Utren folded his arms across his chest as he caught sight of Welix speeding toward him as the warriors parted to allow him a straight path. “We will see. I doubt the Supreme Chiefs would be pleased if we worshiped anyone before confirming their identity with our own eyes.”
“Mmh,” Utila’s eyes fell to the muddy ground, eyes narrowing slightly. “I didn’t even consider that. Yeah—I suppose we’ll just have to see for ourselves when he arrives.”
“It’s a she,” Dren corrected. “Yeppa says she’s the counterpart for The One Above All; she told him to address her as Empress Elinor, and she controls The Pits as the Supreme Chief.”
“The Pits?” Utila gasped, eyes widening as her voice dropped with concern over the curse word. “I never thought about—about a Supreme Chief being over—that place.” She paused, not willing to say the curse a second time.
“In any case,” Utren stated before anyone else could jump in. “Spread the word; we’re to be reverent, but the Supreme Chiefs would also want us to be cautious of a trap.”
Utila’s brow set, giving her a shockingly cute appearance as she held her fist to her chest in a salute usually reserved to warriors, but allowed to her since the Chief was assigning her a personal task. “I won’t let you down, Chief Utren!”
The young woman raced off with a charming zeal that made Utren smile. To say her alluring figure attracted attention would be an understatement, which was what he wanted; she would get people to comply without much resistance or questions.
He couldn’t lie to himself, Utren wanted his own son to wed the jewel of their Clan; however, it was a standing fifth-generation tradition to allow the females to select their suitor, and he wasn’t about to interfere with one of their previous Chief’s decrees. He could, but it was rarely seen with a positive light to contradict the past Chiefs as they stood in judgment in the heavens.
Utila’s such a pure child. She’d make beautiful grandchildren for future Chief selection, but alas, her heart’s taken by another. For the life of me… He glanced around, looking for Gormal, but he couldn’t spot the boy. I don’t know what she sees in him, but that’s not my place to interfere.
Welix watched her leave, and Utren waved his hand for Jaliv to accompany her to give some credence to the few that were disenfranchised by the girl. His top warrior gave a soft sigh as he turned to face him. “You know, Chief, I half expect there to be a riot when the day finally comes for her Selection Ceremony.”
“You’re not wrong there,” Dren muttered. “There were some young men that caused the Clan quite some trouble after Belia’s Selection Ceremony.”
“Eh,” Utren scratched his head, feeling more dehydrated than she should. “That’s a concern for the future.” His blue eyes moved between his father and Welix before sliding beyond him to see Norim catching up to them, left behind by Welix’s much quicker pace. “The plans are changing.”
Welix and Norim listened to their change in formation, and after he finished, Welix leaned back, folding his arms while humming.
“So, we’re to be courteous, basically, like welcoming the Flex Chief into the village.”
“What do you think?” Dren asked, rubbing his thumb against his nose.
Norim looked like he wanted to give his input, but held his tongue, knowing it wasn’t his place. Welix was more reserved, jaw shifting as he thought about Dren and Utren’s decision.
“From a military perspective, I don’t advise it, but I understand you’re thinking on a broader scale. If we are dealing with a Supreme Chief, then I defer to my Chief,” he responded with a confident gaze. “If it comes to combat, then the warriors will be ready, but we will wait for your command.”
Dren grinned at their Xaria. “I’d expect nothing less from you, son; you’ve filled your position with the greatest honor.”
Welix bowed respectfully to them. “Is there anything more I should know before preparing the warriors?”
Utren appraised his younger brother; he was by far more skilled in physical combat, rising to the legitimate rank of Xaria, being able to clash with the greatest warriors of any Clan within the valley. They’d never fought for the position of Chief; it was always known that Utren would succeed their father, and the succession had happened without conflict as some clans had.
“Yes, Chief Warrior Welix. The Ancestors protect us.”
“The Ancestors protect us,” Welix, Dren, and Norim repeated before his brother rushed off to put his orders into action.
The Clan organized into a large circle, opening a path for Empress Elinor to enter the open center. Warriors lined the inner walls, providing a buffer if needed, but there were no signs of aggression shown.
Yeppa had inserted himself right in the front, waiting with hopeful eyes, which more than disturbed the warriors who had known him all their lives.
They waited, and after twenty minutes passed, something shocking happened, causing murmurs to sweep the crowd; every scout returned at the same time, rushing to first give their report to Welix.
His Chief Warrior hastily returned to Utren’s side, and even his stalwart brother seemed somewhat spooked as he pointed to the trees once reaching him. “The scouts say Ri’bot seemed to appear from nowhere, smacking their lips to make a strange clicking noise. There … you see in the trees?” He pointed. “The scouts couldn’t outrun them; they were right on their heels.”
“What’s the color on their skin, their patterns; what Clan?” Utren asked as they watched the treeline, but the figures were nearly invisible behind the brush to his untrained eyes.
“All Clans,” Welix mumbled. “It looks more like a host of Clanless … I even see a few colors and patterns I’m not familiar with, which probably come from outside the valley.”
“Then … it could be true,” Dren whispered before wetting his lips. “Where is Empress Elinor? Wait … I see a flame in the…”
Utren glanced around as the whispering ceased, and then noticed the sounds of the jungle had quieted; it was as if it were paying homage to the presence that moved within as a group of massive figures exited the brush, causing chills to cascade down Utren’s spine.
“By the Ancestors’ graves,” Dren’s soft curse caught Utren a little off-guard. He hadn’t heard his father’s voice shake in his entire life, but he understood the feeling.
The burning skeletal forms of massive Quen’Talrat exited the jungle, and he could now see the dozens upon dozens of multicolored Ri’bot surrounding their entire village. Sleek, metallic-like eight-legged creatures stood beside the Quen’Talrat, perhaps even more terrifying with their thin spear-like feet and large abdomen.
Everyone’s eyes first centered on what could only be described as a Quen’Talrat Elite Hunter, standing firmly on two legs over seventeen feet tall with four arms that showed signs of muscle upon the flaming bones. Its large two heads released a low growl as they surveyed the parted crowd, and sitting upon the skeletal beast’s top left hand was the figure Yeppa described as Empress Elinor.
Utren couldn’t describe why, but the manner in which she sat made her look more dignified than any other creature he’d seen. She was thinner than any Ri’bot, wearing a cloth that covered her skin, and her white fur was kept in place by an obsidian black metallic crown that released flowing green energy to fall in a sheet down her back.
Beside her, standing on the three Thélméthra were figures of importance; two were in the same shape as the Empress, but one snatched every Ri’bot’s attention—a white-skinned Ri’bot with glowing blue patterns, head held high, hands behind her back, giving them an amused smile as the yellow inner glow of her irises slid between specific individuals in the crowd.
“Valdar,” Dren mumbled just loud enough for Utren to hear, shifting his eyes to stare at a dashing young Ri’bot standing in front of the Empress. He wasn’t quite whole, showing muscle and bone with the evidence of green embers blazing below.
Beside the Former Chieftain was another figure that resembled the Empress, showing red fur atop its head while showing much more of its skin than Elinor.
Utren was a little surprised to watch the Elite Hunter Empress Elinor stood upon move forward at a slow pace with just the three figures that rode the Thélméthra and Valdar; even the red-furred creature stayed behind with the rest of the skeletal beasts.
Not a single Ri’bot spoke, but quivers and sweat could be seen and smelt as the figures moved between the open path; many Ri’bot, including Utren himself, found it difficult to pull their eyes from the Ri’bot goddess beside Empress Elinor to look at the Supreme Chief that was surrounded in a light green aura of flames.
It makes perfect sense … if Empress Elinor is the counterpart to The One Above All, then, of course, she’d have a Supreme Chief with her that personifies perfection as a Ri’bot. Even Utila looks ugly compared to this Ri’bot’s … supremacy.
Once the Empress reached the center, Valdar stepped forward to address the crowd, staring right at Utren. “All bow before Empress Elinor, The One Above All, Supreme Chief of the Pits. You have one chance to prove your allegiances and restore your Clan’s honor with the heavens.”
Now, before the Supreme Chief of the Pits, Utren couldn’t help but feel like the small insects they trod underfoot without notice. All doubts washed away in the wake of what stood before him. This must be a Supreme Chief … there’s no other explanation for this feeling in my chest. If I do not bow … I will die, and eternal suffering awaits me, but … I must make sure.
A lump dropped down Utren’s throat as he resisted dropping to his knees and lowering himself to the ground, but his people weren’t so strong. Hundreds, including a few warriors, had already fallen, eyes downcast as she’d made her entrance.
Utren found it difficult to find his tongue, but after a moment, he managed to choke, “How—can we be sure you are who you say you are … Empress Elinor.”
He shivered as Elinor’s green-tinted lips lifted into what he could only assume was a smile, and her voice was much sweeter than he anticipated.
“I will allow one demonstration to prove the difference between us is reflected between heaven and earth.” She gestured at the physical paragon of Ri’bot beauty. “Select your greatest warrior, and they will fight Supreme Chief Iris. It is a privilege to fight a member of my Royal Court, but I won’t allow her to kill you; after all, it is my hope that you will live for me, not sent to my Eternal Pits to burn for disloyalty.”
Welix took a calming breath before stepping forward. “I am Chief Warrior Welix, a Xaria of the Lethix Clan. I am—grateful for this opportunity. I do not wish to offend you, Empress Elinor,” his gray tongue slid out as his vision moved to Iris, “I am—hesitant to face such a beautiful Ri’bot in fear of scaring her figure, but as a warrior and a Xaria, I will do my duty.”
A shiver ran down Utren’s spine as Elinor hummed with amusement. “How gentlemanly. I am not opposed to such sentiments, and I don’t want anyone to feel unsure about the results.” Her glowing green eyes moved to the figure clothed in metal. “Therefore, Supreme Chief Edmon will stand in for my lovely Iris.”
Everyone’s gaze moved to the heavenly Ri’bot Supreme Chief as she hummed in a perfectly serene manner. “As you command, Empress.”
Welix sniffed in sharply, shaking himself out to prepare for the battle to come. “I am grateful to your kindness, Empress Elinor. If it is truly your wish to show us the difference between our strength, I will attack with the intent to kill.”
“By all means, attempt to your heart’s content,” Elinor chuckled, moving her entourage back to the circle’s opening. “Go ahead, Welix, show us the strength of mortals whenever you’re ready.”
Utren’s gut told him this was not a favorable encounter. He glanced over at his brother with worry; Welix’s tongue pressed against his cheeks before flicking out to slide across his teeth. If Utren didn’t know better, he’d think his brother was actually feeling honored; in the case it was true, how many Xaria could say they fought a Supreme Chief.
Edmon hopped down from his Thélméthra mount, armored feet sinking into the ground, but it didn’t seem to take any effort for him to walk forward. The wet mud soon hardened where he stepped, branching out as a blue fog flowed from its surface, causing the crowd in the front to gasp as the floor resembled the Ancestors’ Wrath.
He can harden the ground by just walking? How many more signs do we need?
In front of him, The Supreme Chief folded his hands behind his back, leaving his broad black-armored chest exposed while planting his feet, facing Welix. Edmon’s voice was low and serious. “Use whatever tactics you can conceive, and I’ll brush them off without moving an inch. You’re a mortal, nothing to me.”
Utren could almost sense the knife stabbing into Welix’s pride. Telling a Xaria that they can do him no harm? I can’t recall anyone ever so bold in our history!
Welix picked up his shield and spear, knife, ax, and a bag of blackwood thorns strapped to his side. His nose twitched as he jumped over the throng to stand six feet from the Supreme Chief. “We shall see.”
Edmon’s amused huff made Utren stiffen for his brother and the prideful words that followed stung. “You will only look like a fool in this fight; I will use a single foot to crush you under my boot. I am supreme.”
* * *
Welix released calm and slow breaths before launching forward, thrusting his spear tip for the hole releasing blue fog, but the metal struck a hard white sheet that formed within, causing his spear to roll off to the side, catch on a groove and snapped. What?!
He hopped back, tongue sliding out to dip into his bag, latching onto a few thorns. He raced behind the Supreme Chief, but Edmon didn’t even flinch at his attack, standing perfectly still with his hands still folded firmly behind his back.
“Obvious,” Edmon chuckled.
Welix’s gray tongue shot out, launching three targeted barbs at Edmon’s back, and they struck, bouncing off harmlessly.
His shell is too tough; it must be like the old Quen’Talrat armor, but they never wore it across their whole body. How can he even move with such a suit? No, that must be one of his weaknesses! If I can just knock him off his feet, I can win.
There were no cheers heard around his Clan; only a deathly silence pressed in on Welix, but he wasn’t concerned. He had to prove them as deceptors.
So, I can’t even move you an inch? Everything moved in slow motion as he used his extreme speed and high-maneuverability with his webbed feet in the muddy environment to reposition, rushing forward to tackle the figure.
He reached two feet from Edmon before stepping on the hard surface he’d created; Welix’s eyes widened as his feet slid out from under him, sending his body spiraling out of control to slam against the back of Edmon’s legs with a grunt.
His world spun as he tried to regain his senses. He swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling a biting chill that burned like fire against his slick skin. Tightening his jaw, Welix fought past the pain, hands slipping as he tried to return to his feet, and only by using the back of Edmon’s leg was he able to kick himself out of the slick surface and back onto the mud, scrambling to his feet. Still, Edmon hadn’t even taken his hands from behind his back.
“Are you done playing on the ice?”
Welix could see the concerned expressions on his Clansmen, warriors he’d trained himself that were losing hope in him.
What is that? It’s cold to the touch, but bites like fire, and has no purchase to move upon. So, how did he stay grounded while I fell flat on my face? What Mysticism is this? It’s like the Ancestors’ Wrath, but different at the same time.
Taking out his ax, Welix stepped closer, holding up his shield as he inched onto the substance Edmon called ice. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Iris’ sublime features filled with mild amusement, but it was no time for him to feel embarrassed.
Why am I thinking about this? I’ve never had a fight where my opponent didn’t even raise a hand to fight! This is embarrassing … just aim for the grooves at the neck; all the Quen’Talrat armor bends when beaten hard enough at the thin edges.
Inching onto the ice, he found it easier to keep his balance if he moved slowly, but the pain it caused still flared against his skin; the sun’s heat was quickly fading as the thin smoke expanded. Reaching a striking distance, he assured his foundation and struck. The ax hit just at the right angle he’d planned, but the resistance was total, sending the shockwave back into his hand and causing him to almost drop the weapon.
He was forced back, causing his back leg to slip again, sending him tumbling to the floor with a grunt. His teeth pressed against his lips, drawing green blood at Empress Elinor’s soft giggle, but she didn’t comment.
Again, Edmon didn’t use the advantage he had, allowing him to get up. “What is your shell made of?” Welix growled. “How can it withstand a strike at a weak point?”
Ignoring his question, Edmon asked, “Empress, may I crush him under my boot?”
“You know the terms I set,” Elinor responded, hands folded in her lap.
Edmon hummed softly while finally turning around, but his hands remained behind his back. “Very well, Welix. Why don’t we begin?”
Welix jumped back as Edmon advanced at a leisurely pace, following him around as he peppered his armor with blackthorn barbs, but no matter where he aimed, nothing gave, and the openings in his helmet sealed before the thorns struck. Worse, he started to notice a change in their environment as the blue smoke increased.
He’s turning the whole circle into ice! I’ll soon be out of stable ground to attack. No, I have to stop his movement; all he’s doing is walking at me while humming! Is the sound a part of his attack?
Following the ice’s advance, he noticed a part that wasn’t as quick, which would give him an opportunity for another blow. Rushing forward, he launched his wooden shield at the Supreme Chief, aiming for his upper body to close-line him. His full strength and weight were carried with the strike, but it was like trying to topple an ancient Blackthorn Tree, impossible.
His shield cracked as it felt like a rampaging Torlim slamming into his body, and all the air in his lungs passed through his lips in a wheeze before he struck the ground, gasping. Not a second later, his airway was cut off as a cold, smooth surface pressed against his neck.
Welix managed to hold onto his broken shield and ax, pounding the metal against Edmon’s armored foot was crushing his windpipe; loud clangs struck his eardrums as metal struck metal, but the force wouldn’t let up.
His chest burned, throat on fire as a chill ran up his neck and down his chest, and just before he was able to pass out, the force retracted. He coughed, vision swimming as he struggled to his side. He’d never felt so weak.
It took over a minute for the ringing in his ears to cease, and thin sheets of what he could only assume was ice fell off his neck, face, and chest as he huddled against the biting, hardened ground.
Once he’d regained his senses, he began to shiver, looking up at the metallic-black figure looming over him. “Don’t get the wrong idea. You’re fast, and I’m sure your fighting form is perfect; however, there was really nothing you could have done to hurt me. Of course, you don’t stand any better of a chance against Supreme Chief Iris.”
The orange-eyed figure dangling her feet off one of a Thélméthra hummed with amusement. “Be thankful; Empress Elinor spared your life. Isn’t she merciful?”
There’s no doubt … heaven and earth separate our powers.
Taking a shuddering breath, Welix lifted himself to his knees and bowed. “I bow before Empress Elinor, Supreme Chief of the Pits.”
The rest of the Lethix Clan followed his example, pledging themselves to the Supreme Being that had appeared before them.
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