Chapter 90 Chapter 50: The Ritual (4)
“OH GREAT FATHER OF DARKNESS, I CALL YOU FROM THE DARKNESS INTO THE WORLD OF DARKNESS. HEAR MY CALL, OH FATHER OF BLINDNESS. LET YOUR PRESENCE BE KNOWN IN THE WORLD OF MEN AGAIN.”
Kiea gritted her teeth. She felt the overwhelming heaviness pressed onto her soul, rendering her incapable of anything other than the scripts as if she had gobbled them down in the past and now just vomiting back. None of the others were in any bright condition, either.
Yeriel, who had her eyes closed, wide awoke, however, they felt empty. Her eyes were widened, as veins in red pulsed through inhumanly, while her arms danced in the midair as if going through Raigarh Mortis. No, she was not dead, but suffering, and it's only the beginning.
The crown of antler on top of her head dug into her skull as she screamed, feeling the unendurable pain. Her head felt like shattering, while the foreign thing poked into it, as if trying to be a part of her.
“I call you upon this land,” Rojar Iker screamed, “to touch to the world of men again. I call you on the sacrifice of the blood and soul of a pure saint beast . . .”
“I call you on the names of the old Lords.”
“Saider Al’Rishim.”
“Saider Tu’Muyalaka.”
“Saider Hallan.”
“Kamral Al’Sudoi.”
Others screamed in the background. “We call you from the darkness into the darkness. Hear our call, oh Great lord of the Dark.”
The very air above them vibrated, and stilled in the next moment. The process continued. Yes, it was working. They just needed to endure more, endure until the gate opens, and they will get everything they ever wanted.
A little more pain, and they will get everything they ever wanted.
Abruptly, the fortification shook, and the warlock’s attention broke towards that.
“Looks like some pests found their way here,” he said, spatting.
“What do we do?” Rial asked.
“Continue,” the warlock replied, “It's but the most important part.”
They nodded continuing on the ritual, ignoring their underlings mind be in great peril, trying to keep the fortification intact.
“Kiea Tosin calls you,” the warlock apprentice began, “OH GREAT LORD OF THE DARK.”
“Sirius Iker calls you,” the warlock’s brother called, “Oh, GREAT FATHER OF SIGHTLESSNESS.”
“. . .”
“Rial Keir calls you,” the rogue knight screamed, “OH, GREAT FATHER OF HATRED.”
Now, it's the Warlock’s turn, he was about to begin when the fortification shattered, as chilly, angry wind and the fierce snowstorm found their way.
“I hope we aren’t that late,” the magus said as she came from behind another figure with a bastard sword.
Only two of them.
. . .
Shailyn felt the wrongness in the wind, which told her to move fast. She crept on the snow filled land, wary of the guards on the watch. She tasked them themselves with neutralising them first, before making way towards fortification.
Ilias could do it by sneking in, going for one target after another, until their enemies find out the wrongness. However, Shailyn was not the sneaky type and even with all the disturbance from the snowstorm, she couldn’t keep up being hidden. So she chose the violent path.
An arrow shot at her, glowing in the darkness, evading all the force of nature.
“Trofas Kamaraz.” Shailyn spoke as the wisp of wind hurled against the arrow, blowing it away. However, it wasn’t the end, more arrows came one from the same direction, while another two from her left.
Shailyn followed with the same spell, however, this time it was not a wisp of wind only against the path of the arrow. This spell connected with the other one, making her wind even more potent. She evaded the ones coming from her left, ducking, while the gales of wind formed a shield surrounding her.
Neutralising the arrows, she hurled the wind shooting at the target on her front, surging with the snowstorm. It was not tapping into the power of nature, just working with it.
The archer, hiding in the pine tree, yelped as he fell. However, Shailyn had no time to celebrate on one victim as the arrows kept on coming even though her ever swirling windshield blocked them all. Shailyn prepared her next move for them, not a chanting spell, but a proper magic circle, working on the foundation she prepared with evocation.
Then came one from behind, sneaking one, providing her with an opportunity to showcase the might of the complicated spell created out of magic circuit and evocation. His attempt would’ve been successful if Shailyn had been sloppy with her Spirit Cloud ability. Unfortunately for the burly fellow, he was just pushing his luck.
He was almost twice her size and used all his strength to swing his mace against her windshield, however, before even his weapon could contact the swirling wind, a gale of wind blade rammed through his gut, penetrating through his light armour. The rogue practitioner wailed, blood oozed out smearing in the snow. Shailyn didn’t hold back. She flicked her right arm as a strong gale rammed against him, flinging him away dozens of metres.
The mace was tossed aside first, and then the rogue warder collided against a pine tree.
The wind around Shailyn weakened, though they were still swirling, bending around her, protecting her, empowering her. Arrows shot at her from all around, armed with spirit energy. Some were even sneaky, however, against the spirit clouds that enveloped all five metres in her surroundings, all tricks rendered useless.
Shailyn enforced more spirit wherever the attack hit, neutralising the damage to her windshield. The arrows from her right stopped for a while and as she guessed again, came a couple of fellows, sneaking in. while on from the right, the other one is still from behind, proving to for the real sneak attack. Unfortunately, they don’t know, nothing in the five-metre radius was hidden from her.
Among the three Earther sisters, the eldest Leahlyn was best at auxiliary service. From Divination, Enchantment, Transformation, Alchemy—none of the two could compete against her. Rosalyn’s talent was no less, either. She was quite close to getting into grandmaster realm, Leahlyn ever was when she was alive. However, Rosalyn’s calling was knowledge. She was best in theory among the living Earther Bloodline, or perhaps among the best five on the mainland. Be it Evocation, Communion, Thaumaturgy, Enchantment, Warding—she’s a master in all of them.
And lastly, the youngest, Shailyn, who was best at practical magic, the violent magic. At the age of 25 she acclaimed herself as the magus, and the very next year, she became the Arbiter of the Order of Magi, and chose to be stationed at her homeland. And now, she was twenty-nine, further improved and polished all her practical battle spells and skills.
These rogue warders don’t stand a chance, even when she’s partially handicapped. She crept, levitating from the snow towards the one in the right, however, her attack went for the one behind instead, and in a last full sweep of the swirling wind around her, she tossed both of them in the air, twisting their body.
Ilias came back in the meantime, though he hadn’t managed to deal with the archers. Well, it took her less than half a minute to deal with 4 of the warders, so not much time had passed.
“Trofas Bra’vin.” A short shield formed enough to block the arrow came that had any threat to her, while she evaded the others, levitating behind a tree.
Shailyn caught her breathing, wheezing. She reinforced her mind, steeled her willpower, and came out of the tree. Arrows flying at the slightest change in her moment.
“Trofas Kamaraz,” she spoke in an almost inaudible voice, however, the effect was unimaginable.
Horrifying gales of angry wind rattled at her command, surging from the blizzard, while the snow made it even worse. The snow was not her spell, but it's a nice addition she added to work with the wind. The angry wind carried the snow and hurled at her enemies, blowing away the enforced arrows as if broken kites in the sky.
Her evocation was never this powerful, but the circumstances were different, she was growing the power of the storm, bending it to do her bidding. In a way, it's also tapping into its power, however, it's more from the outside. She was more like a bystander, just pushing the rolling boulder a little, changing its direction.
Bodies hiding in the trees flung away, even the trees bent, their coned-top almost reaching for the earth. All the swirling wind worked and rammed against the spiritual fortification, shaking it, and reducing its effect.
“Ilias,” Shailyn called. “You know what to do.”
“Yes, my lady.” The knight lunged at the fortification, the horrifying weave of wind empowering his momentum. Ilias bastards word turned heavier as he rammed against the weakening fortification running a full-slash.
The Earth element gave the sword all the heaviness and when it rammed against the barrier of the fortification, it shattered like glass crumbing against stones.
Shailyn’s figure flew before him. “I hope we aren’t that late.”
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Next Chapter: Young Flame
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