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Eos #7

Ragnarok

By Fist_of_Fenris

A massive, golden orb filled the window on the Storm Gale's bridge, dwarfing the many ships that orbited it. A battle above the planet's atmosphere raged with plasma erupting from the dark silhouettes of the war cruisers. Ships flocking like steel geese flying across the orbital battleground high above the planet. Shots fired like fireworks upon a warm summer's night beneath the palette of a moonless sky. Even though it was violence and fighting and men were dying, it was quite the show to behold through the pane of the Storm Gale's eye.

Even so, Theron could not take his eyes off of the planet before him. Like something from a dream, it seemed familiar, but like nothing he'd seen before. It was something he knew that it was something he'd come to expect every morning upon waking, but then that was when he'd walked on its surface. When he was smuggled off Eos, he wasn't able to actually see it as he sped away. Now it was here, looking painfully back at him as scars were ripped across its surface and a battle for its fate continued to rage.

"Why did it have to be here?" he thought aloud.

He felt the weight of a hand resting on his shoulder, assuring him all was well. He looked to see to whom it belonged and found Jaavi where he'd expected Marthus. The Draco had a mildly comforting look, sort of like he understood everything but couldn't even began to grasp how it felt.

"Are you going to be ok?" he asked thoughtfully.

Theron nodded.

"Alright," Jaavi said. "We'll probably be landing pretty soon."

Behind them, Marthus's captain's chair chimed. He pressed a button on the right arm and a holo screen appeared before him. It was Carnassus, the Lycan king.

"We're preparing to land," Carnassus said. "It should take longer for us to arrive on the surface than it will you."

"We'll wait until you're ready," Marthus said.

Carnassus waved his hand at the suggestion.

"Paero has informed me that time is of the essence," he said. "Go and we will follow when we are able to."

Marthus nodded and then watched as Carnassus shoved his fist into the screen. The holo screen on the Storm Gale dissolved into static which Marthus allowed to drone on for a moment before he too put his fist through the screen and closed the com-channel.

***

The liberation of Eos was a battle for the ages. Stories of legends, heroes, and demons would be forever told to the children and grandchildren of those who lived in the times in which so great an event should occur.

The liberators were a large force compromised of several thousand, small units of the Central Human Government and thirty legions of the Azrulian Empire. The Central Human Government wished to reclaim Eos, but the Azrulians came to their aid for a far different reason. Having been lost so long, the Azrulian diplomat Ginasa was presumed to be dead at the hands of the raiders.

When Marthus and the rest of the Storm Gale's crew arrived, the battle was going in favor of the liberators due to sheer force of numbers. There were no complex battle plans amongst the Azrulians or the CHG. There seemed to be no need as the enemy was weak.

***

The Storm Gale rocketed towards the surface of Eos from somewhere in the upper atmosphere. Flames shot from beneath it as the air was compressed by yet another entry into the planet.

The scene below was one of chaos. The ruins that had been made by the initial invasion of the raiders had only multiplied with the attempted liberation still underway. Now the entire city lay in ruins.

The Storm Gale slowed. Her landing gear deployed beneath her. Then, as she was setting down, a patrol of raiders rushed to surround her.

"Surrender," one of the raiders called out.

Nothing happened. The leading raider ordered the others to take positions behind cover. The raiders did as they were told and focused their plasma rifles on the Storm Gale.

Still nothing. The raiders grew tense. They glanced around at each other and continually checked that the area behind them was clear. A sound like air escaping brought all their heads back around. They watched as the door opened and a ramp extended. They waited for someone to come out. No one did. The leading raider turned to one of his men and spoke to him for half a second. Two raiders got up and headed towards the ship. They slowly made their way up the ramp to where they found no one in the doorway. With a quick glance at each other, the one closest to the door went inside.

A blast of electromagnetic energy penetrated both of the raider's chests, killing them instantly and causing the one still outside to fall off the ramp. Sehrab kicked the other one out the door and, before the other raiders could react, he blazed down the ramp. He was in his Lycan form and running fast enough that the raiders could only barely see him, using the glove from Thomas.

Another raider behind a low wall went down. He screamed horribly. The other raiders turned and fired on his position, pumping rounds into it, afraid to stop. Then another was killed by a knife in the back. He crumpled over with a whining sound. Sehrab was visible for only a split second before he was running fast enough to vanish once again. All the raiders but the one leading fell in the next couple of seconds by gunfire, but Sehrab never again became visible.

The leader became nervous. Beads of sweat graced his scales and fell to the ruined ground beneath him. He heard a click and turned right into the barrel of Sehrab's revolver. He looked fearful for several seconds, eyes opened wide in fright, his body shivered slightly. A cold wind tugged at Sehrab's jacket. Then there was a bang and a hole appeared in the raider's forehead. Sehrab put his gun away as the raider collapsed to the ground, stone dead.

Sehrab heard footsteps coming down the ramp. It was Marthus and the rest of the crew coming to join him.

"That was like..." Jaavi started, but stopped once Sehrab shot him a look that said he didn't want to talk about it.

There was a rush of air and a bright red flash. Dust from the torched land flew in all directions like ash from a stove; the crew of the Storm Gale covered their eyes. When the opened them, the air was slowly clearing around the form of the red dragoness Paero.

"Time is short," Paero said. "Ryt may be released at any second."

"What do we do?" Marthus shouted up to her.

"The Lycan's have landed farther into the city. They wage fierce war on the raiders. I am confident that their line will hold. The one you have told me about, this Cholstoy, he must not survive the battle."

Marthus looked around at the crew for a moment. He rubbed the back of his neck and weighed the options. The Lycan's would need help, even after the cheery report of their condition Paero had given; Sehrab was the perfect fit for that. Then he came to a snag. He knew Jaavi and Skyra could fight, but Ginasa and Theron he wasn't sure of. He thought for a moment longer. There were no options; he couldn't just leave them here to die, but he couldn't drag them along either.

"There is one more thing," said Paero. "We must stop Ryt."

"You keep saying that name," Marthus said. "Who the hell is he?"

"Ryt is a great leviathan capable of destroying a whole planet. If he is not stopped, he will destroy everything and your chances of victory with it."

"How do we stop him?"

"There is only one who holds the strength and the courage to stand up to Ryt. He must be brought forth upon this world."

"And how do we do that?"

"The child bears a ring that will bring forth the warrior of which I speak. He must get to the gate between worlds and release him."

"I'm not a child," Theron asserted.

Marthus glanced at him.

"I'll go with him," he said.

"No, Cholstoy must be stopped," Paero said. "Remember. I will accompany the boy. Do not forget that beneath these scales..."-she tapped her breast-"...There beats the heart of a dragon. I will burn any who come near him."

"Sounds good," Marthus said. "Jaavi, with me. Sehrab, go find the Lycans, see if you can help them. Theron, good luck."

"What about me and lion girl here?" Skyra asked, ignoring the dirty look she received from Ginasa.

"Go with Theron. Good luck."

He and Jaavi started running off towards a nearby pillar of smoke and disappeared around a pile of rubble. Sehrab looked up at the dragoness. She pointed down towards the inner city and, in a flash, he was gone.

Paero then turned to the rest of the group. She looked them over, and then lowered her head to the ground to speak with Tyr. The wolf wore a serious look.

"You are ready then?" she asked.

"Never more than now," he assured her.

"Lead the way."

"Who's she talking to?" Skyra said over her shoulder.

"I guess it's Theron," Ginasa said. She put her hand on Theron's shoulder. "Lead the way."

Theron gave her a weird look, and then he remembered that only he and Paero could see Tyr. The wolf started off and he chased after it. While Paero took to the skies, circling the group as the moved across the jagged landscape, Tyr led them to ruins that looked all too familiar to Theron and Ginasa.

It was ringed around by an obliterated fence and the only standing wall had a triangular design. Ginasa stopped and looked around, a sort of sadness on her face. Theron kept going, looking the building over with an uncanny sense of déjà vu. He glanced back at Ginasa and noticed she had stopped. He came to a halt himself. Behind him, Tyr turned around and sat down on a flat piece of rubble. Skyra ran into the Azrulian and quickly shuffled her feet away.

"What is it?" Theron asked finally.

"This is..." Ginasa said but choked. "This was the embassy. This is where we met. They've destroyed it."

"We need to keep moving," Theron heard Tyr say. "Finish this up."

"Ginasa," Theron said. "There really isn't enough time for this."

Ginasa appeared hurt by the words. She looked at Theron as though he'd just called her a nasty name. Theron averted his eyes. He checked on a pistol Marthus had given him as an excuse for not meeting her gaze. Ginasa eventually shook her head and looked away.

Tyr began walking again. Theron waited a few seconds longer until Tyr was slipping through a v-shaped gash in the wall across the compound, then he turned to leave. Skyra followed him as soon as she saw him beginning to walk away, but Ginasa didn't seem to notice for awhile. She finally looked up and hurried after them as they made their way through the city behind a wolf they could not see.

***

Marthus kept his eyes to the sights of his Gerlin Mk seventeen repeating laser rifle. The Gerlin was a very nice rifle, one held in the highest regards by many sailors for its ability to put down a lot of plasma at close range. It had a square stock on a rounded body and was almost comically mismatched in appearance. The battery/magazine coming off the firing chamber like a sixth finger didn't help much either. Still, if one was looking for a solid gun and didn't mind the pitifully ugly appearance, it was the perfect choice.

Jaavi came up from behind him carrying a much sleeker looking gun. It was black with red lines and the shape vaguely resembled an HKMP five. It came to a sort of triangular point with an opening beneath four triangles. The gun was a single shot, but that was all anyone using it would actually need. It packed a mean punch that left a sizeable hole in whatever it struck.

The both of them walked in a military fashion, one behind the other, watching the buildings for signs of movement. So far, all they'd run into were the enemy's Sehrab had obliterated.

They moved from cover, checking the side lines carefully for potential enemies. When they saw none, they'd move again, back into a new cover. They kept their heads low changing position and staying aware of the other one and their surroundings.

As they were making the transition from a rather high pile that once was a wall of destroyed building behind them, a rumbling of machinery shook the ground and sent them into a nearby ditch. A grey, square tank with a sizeable fifty pound electromagnetic canon on top floated by heading to the rear. It was smoking and appeared to have been badly damaged. There was a gash of ripped metal across one of its flanks and several less severe dents surrounding it.

Several soldiers accompanied the tank. They carried world class, Kempletan S.R. repeaters. A rifle known for dependability; it was the standard weapon of the CHG ground forces.

The soldiers and tank passed without managing to spot Jaavi or Marthus. The two of them got up as soon as they thought it was safe and transitioned to cover, making sure they couldn't be seen from the rear. Even though they weren't raiders, it would be likely that they'd be shot or detained for trespassing on a secure battle area. They watched out for more troops as they made their way up closer to the frontlines.

Marthus checked his compass. The needle pointed straight ahead.

***

The Lycans were not used to concept of modern warfare. They fought the way they'd always fought, by ranks and lines and through fear and force of arms. Every time they formed up, the raiders gunned them down easily by bursts of light like fire but faster and far more immediately fatal.

Carnassus watched as his men, his soldiers were cut down like wheat. He heard their whimpers, their cries of pain. The battle, he began to realize, was hopeless. The enemy had taken away their ability to fight all together. Although he would never even consider conceding defeat to his enemy, he knew in his heart that he had lost.

He put his palm on his cheek and clenched his eyes, waiting for the inevitable bullet to the forehead. A hand touched his shoulder. He spun and looked. It was Sehrab, come to save him. He felt himself being lifted off the ground and dragged away just as the spot he'd been in seconds before burst into a red fireball.

"Truly I owe you a great debt," Carnassus said calmly, though he still appeared to be in shock.

"Thank me later," Sehrab said. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't follow."

Sehrab motioned to the Lycans being wasted as they tried to form into ranks.

"That," he said. "What is that?"

"That is the way we fight," Carnassus said. "It is the wall of men that crushes the enemy."

"Looks more like a shooting gallery. It's time for a change of tactics."

"What other tactics are there?"

"Watch and learn."

Sehrab grabbed a Lycan holding a sword and wooden shield.

"Follow me," he said in Lycan, his voice deepening as he shifted to his Lycan form. "And do exactly what I tell you to."

He grabbed another and repeated himself, and then another. Then he ran across the street amongst fire from the enemy and grabbed three more so that he had six including himself. He took off, moving behind walls and impenetrable stacks of rubble and debris on his way for the heart of the enemy.

He lifted himself up and over a low wall and with the five Lycans trailing him, he ran head long into the enemy. He slung around his concussion rifle and, holding the trigger guard, he smashed the first raider he saw in the head and cocked the gun at the same time. He rolled it back into his hands and ducked a laser blast as he fired from the hip. The raider's body twisted and sent blackened blood flying through the air.

One of the Lycans following Sehrab had a gun. He saw what Sehrab had done and opened up; the gun was fully automatic and poured hot lead into the enemy forcing them to duck.

"Go now!" Sehrab cried.

The other Lycans he'd chosen all had hand to hand weapons. They ran at the enemy, closing the distance before the raiders could fire and easily overcame them without any casualties. Merely by slashing and hacking, they brought the raiders down easily.

Sehrab jogged forward and took cover on a low wall. Fire poured over head as the raiders were unable to get an angle. Sehrab stuck his head out and very nearly lost it. He looked around; all the Lycans were looking at him.

"We've got to get around that thing," he said. "You with the gun, get on the other side of me, now!"

The gun wielding Lycan crawled across to Sehrab's other side and continued waiting. One of the Lycans behind Sehrab began to pant.

"We're going to split up," Sehrab said.

The Lycans all gave him a strange look as though he had just begun speaking a new language. He rolled his eyes and took out a knife. He thrust the knife in the ground and drew two, parallel lines representing the roadway to their left. Then he drew two more lines representing the road crossing it. Finally, he made an "x" on their position.

"Here's where we are," he told the Lycans following him. "That's where we're going. Now I need you, you, and you to go this way-" he drew a line in the sand to the other side of the street-"And then go across the street again on that other side, clearing the bad guys as you go. I need you and you to follow me around. Now repeat what I just said."

"You want us to go across the street on the other side and then cross again," One of the Lycans said. "Only the second time, we cross the street in front of us and slay the foe there while you get the other side."

"Get to it." Sehrab told them.

Back roughly three hundred feet away, Carnassus watched Sehrab and the five other Lycans and then as they tore into the raider's flank. As he did, it became clear to him the reason his earlier efforts had failed. The Lycans were far behind in tactics, and they needed to learn the new way of fighting fast.

He rose to his feet.

"My brothers, our enemy hides," he said. "They rain death on us with glowing bullets and stay too far from us for us to do anything but stand and die. We must get closer. We must stalk them like prey. They must never see us coming until we are too close for them to run."

He watched as his Lycans processed this new information. They looked to him for orders, now understanding the way in which they were to go.

Carnassus said nothing but moved swiftly forward, the blasts raining over his head like glowing streamers against the night. The Lycans followed, keeping their heads down and out of the line of fire. The bullets formed together a ceiling and a wall. Although Lycan science was best described as primitive, they understood something about why the knife cut. In fact, it was something they knew better than anyone.

As the fang punctured the skin, so too would they force their way into their enemy and fill their enemies' ranks with holes.

Carnassus slowed and came to a rest near where Sehrab had secured the second block and rested against a low wall, panting. He looked up as the Lycan king sat down.

"Well what do you know?" he said. "I half expected it to take you an hour to figure this out."

"We learn quickly," Carnassus told him.

***

The rubble crunched underfoot as Theron, Ginasa, and Skyra made their way through the city. They moved at a sort of slow run, too fast to be a jog but notably distant from a full sprint. Theron was out in front with the other two behind him, thinking that he lead the group.

They moved at a constant, unbroken speed despite the uneven terrain and pockmarks that snatched at their feet threatening to send them to the ground. There was urgency to their movements even as there was electricity to the air.

High above, the red dragoness Paero circled overhead keeping watch on the land before them. For no easily apparent reason, she turned her head towards the middle of the city. Below, Tyr stopped all of a sudden bringing Theron and eventually Ginasa and Skyra to a full halt behind him. He looked towards the middle of the city.

Billowing high above, a black smoke poured out. Fire burned up into the sky, spewing from a crevice in reality itself. Thunder roared without lightening. The air conducted a tense, nervous feeling. The ground shook and rattled and cracked underfoot.

The group struggled to keep their footing. Even Tyr had to shuffle feet and dip closer to the ground to keep from being thrown on his back.

Amongst the cloud, a form became more and more visible in the black smoke. A burning, snake like leviathan with a dragon's head became visible as the smoke dissipated. A gale force wind blew as it finally became completely visible.

There were sharp, menacing spines along its back and two ram horns on its round cranium. Two fangs stuck out on either side of its fat snout. Black, burning spit oozed to its lips and dripped to the ground. A mane of spikes grew out of the backs of its mandibles and ran around the base of its head. Worst of all were two unmarked, red eyes that struck fear into all that witnessed it.

Even in the distance, Theron got a sense of the sheer massiveness of the beast before him. It was the size of a high rise building but slightly larger, towering over the city.

"Ryt," Tyr said, his voice more a wolf's snarl than a man's word.

***

Jaavi and Marthus could only watch helplessly as the form of Ryt exploded out above the city and the black smoke blanketed the entire area, wrapping them in darkness. Visibility was cut to inches. The air breathed as though it were toxic. It was grainy and rough as it coursed through their throats and filled their lungs.

Relief came in the form of a gust of wind that blew away the smoke like a curtain, but what hid beneath it only made them wish that there had been no wind at all. Skeletons with rotting meat hanging off their bones and dressed in dented, black armor stood in all the streets. Where there eyes should have been blood rubies had replaced them. The dead soldiers stood side by side in hundreds of rows of ten. They drew dull, rusted blades and marched forward one row at a time, keeping a uniform space between them at all times They were impressive and fearsome, marching in time with one another.

Marthus could only stare in horror as they began flowing through the city towards him making Jaavi the first to act. He looked around, twisting his neck so that he could check behind them. He spotted an empty building that appeared to have stood up.

"C'mon," he said. "I've got an idea."

"There's too many, we need to fall back," said Marthus.

"There's a structure just one hundred feet behind us that has good cover and an upstairs, we should go there and hold out."

Marthus crained his neck to look behind them. He saw the building, it appeared sturdy.

"Alright, let's do it," he said finally.

The dead legions were getting closer with every passing second, but they were still a good distance away. Soldiers in Uniforms belonging to the CHG were in retreat and a couple passed by Marthus and Jaavi without noticing them.

Jaavi started off towards the building and Marthus counted slowly to three, both to calm his nerves and to allow for a good spacing between them. He took off just as he began to mouth the word three.

Jaavi bolted up the stairs to the second floor and began looking around for something to barricade it with. He spotted a piece of furniture that was burned past recognition. He turned as Marthus came running upstairs with him.

"Help me get this over the stairway," he said.

Marthus nodded and went to the other side.

"Ready, heave," they both said.

The furniture tipped up and then fell over the hole, covering it entirely. Marthus and Jaavi fell onto their backs and starred at the ceiling, breathing heavily.

"That..." Jaavi said, but he had to take a breath and try again. "That should hold them."

Marthus could only nod. He'd gone red in the face.

The ground beneath them shook to the beating of a thousand footsteps passing by. They heard the dry thump of walking across the floor below. A few of the dead soldiers must have entered the building. Their confidence in the makeshift barricade began to wane.

There was a thumping sound and one end of the barricade flew almost a foot into the air and came crashing down back where it had been. It happened again and Marthus brought his gun up to eyelevel. The barricade went up and stayed up this time. Marthus pulled the trigger on his Gerlin and prayed that dead men could die again.

***

Once they began moving forward, the Lycan's easily over came the raiders. Black blood flood through the streets as teeth gnashed, swords cut, and the enemy was demolished in a short time.

The Lycan forces took next to no casualties. There was a wounded man here or there, but they were scarce. The dead behind them in the street were numerous, but the closer they got to their enemy, the less fell.

Of course once they'd felled one enemy, it was only more than likely another would appear before them as they sat back and licked their wounds. They watched as Ryt put on his grand show and came to life in the sky above the city.

They listened with their keen, unfailing ears as the hollow sound of a thousand soldiers marching surrounded them. Wearily, they picked themselves up once more to meet yet another enemy. Shadows of men appeared on shattered walls and the noise grew ever closer.

Carnassus stood. He took his lupine form; covered in the thick white fur of an Alaskan wolf, he glowed in the unearthly sunlight raining down amongst the particles of dust and ash.

"Stand your lines!" he ordered in a deep voice. "Our enemy marches to us, to their end and not ours!"

The men cheered at their king's courage. They stood and formed ranks in defensive lines as Carnassus turned to Sehrab.

"The men with guns," he said. "Order them as you may."

Sehrab nodded and barked out an order for them to lineup on the walls and behind cover. There was a shuffling as the gunmen did as they were told. They formed a classic defensive line behind cover and waited for the enemy. Sehrab motioned for them to stay down for the moment.

The enemy rounded the corner and gave Carnassus and the Lycans their first good luck at the new foe they faced. His jaw went slack. His head drew back slightly on his shoulders.

This enemy they faced could not have been less real. And yet here it was, the skeletons of a thousand dead warriors come to face off against Lycan might. The other Lycans were looking around and exchanging glances. They worried about what was to come. Carnassus knew that he had to drive this worry from them lest they be overrun by the ever forward advance of corpses, and he knew of only one way.

"Why are you scared?" he cried. "We have all faced death before. This battle is no different save that we face death and death alone. Why are you so frightened? What Lycan fears death but a coward? Do not fear what fear you have already overcome!

"And so I say, forward in the ranks! Drive your swords where their hearts are absent. Stab your spears where their eyes have been eaten by time. Take your guns and aim high, so that they may duck and cover their heads. But do not fear that which you have already overcome!"

The Lycans cheered. A few raised their swords. But it was only natural that a man whose voice brought courage could not feel brave from his own words. The fear of his men was in him now, as he had taken it from them. Now he stood facing his fears and that of a hundred more Lycans.

The skeletons began moving forward. Carnassus drew his sword up and tried to look bold for the men under his command, but in his heart, he was already moving in the other direction.

***

Theron ran at a furious speed across the destroyed lands of his former home. Dust filled the air and his lungs. He fought to breath as ash suffocated him. He dared not stop. Behind him, the dead were chasing him. Ginasa, having four legs, easily took the lead but fell back to run alongside Theron, so Skyra ran in the front of the group, unwittingly keeping pace with a wolf she could not see.

Theron kept his eyes on Tyr out of fear and amazement. The wolf never slowed no matter how rough the terrain, he never tired no matter how far he ran nor how fast. His pace gave Theron the feeling that he was running slow enough that he didn't get too far ahead.

Theron turned his head to check on his pursuers. They were gaining far too quickly. As he looked behind him, his foot snagged a heavy piece of debris and he went down on a pile of jagged pieces. Something sharp grazed his arm and he felt a cut on his shoulder burn. He quickly brought himself around. The enemy was almost on top of him. Fear froze him. His enemy slowed, relishing the moment. The closest skeleton raised a shining sword.

Theron's vision exploded into red scales and he heard a breath--an immense and powerful breath--brought forth a fire to burn the rotting flesh of the dead. A thick, acrid smell of burning death filled his nostrils. His vision cleared and he beheld Paero above him.

"Theron," she said. "There is no time."

Theron saw something blazing behind her. It was black and flew the same way a snake crawled. It came down hard and fast and was on top of them before he even knew what it was. Theron covered his head turned over, waiting for the end to befall him.

"Paero!" he heard Tyr cry, and then there was a humming silence before he felt a gust of wind wash over him and the sound of bones snapping from a massive impact.

He whirled around and looked to the sky to find Ryt flying away with Paero hanging lifelessly in his jaws. He looked to Tyr; the wolf had a furious look on his face. Tyr turned to Theron and then turned back forward.

"Do you see the mound over there?"

Theron nodded.

"That is where the gate is. You must carry the ring to it. You must free me."

Theron looked at the pile of debris. It was piled high and appeared unsteady. The skeleton soldiers were busily forming around the base holding swords close.

Theron drew a deep breath, got to his feet and started off towards the mountain of rubble with all haste and speed. He plowed into the formation of the dead and felt their arms grip him. He saw Tyr zigzag through their legs and climb the mound, turning back and staring impatiently once he reached the top. Theron knew the wolf was helpless, that he himself was doomed. In the grip of the dead, he could go no further and it was only a matter of time before they slit his throat and he joined their ranks.

There came a roar from a several feet away. Theron turned; a lioness was leaping into the formation of the dead. It pounced on several, pinning them to the ground beneath its immense and majestic form.

A spear protruded from the chest of one of the skeletons closest to Theron. Its mouth opened in a wicked scream before it fell to the ground, lifeless once more. Skyra worked through the group, parrying their swords with the staff of her spear and countering with the tip. She brought down three more before the one's holding Theron drew back, leaving him unguarded.

He looked back at the top of the mound where Tyr was standing. It was high and smooth sided, but not unconquerable. He bolted for the base, unaware that the skeletons were reforming and overwhelming Skyra, who held them as best she could.

Theron grabbed onto a jagged concrete rock hanging out from one side. He hoisted himself up and got his legs on to the incline behind him. He strained himself to reach out to another, but his hand slipped and he nearly fell. He reached again but felt something catch his leg. Whirling around, he found the hissing lips and ruby eyes of a skeleton soldier trying to drag him down by his ankles. He knocked the soldier off with a kick to its non-existent face and continued his ascent.

The soldiers began to ignore Skyra and the lioness entirely. They charged the pile on which Theron climbed and crawled onto it from all sides. Theron climbed frantically towards the top. He reached three quarters of the way up when another soldier caught him by the ankles. He threw a kick but missed entirely, causing his grip to slip slightly. Two Other dead soldiers caught him by his arms and tried to drag him down back to where the horde was waiting.

Theron resisted as much as he could but the pull of three against one was clear and he found himself being lifted off of the mound. He grabbed on to the mound and held on tightly. He heard a distant roar and felt one of the soldiers being jerked off and crashing to the ground. Looking down, he saw the lioness taking the skeleton apart piece by piece.

Theron looked back up the mound and then at the only soldier still holding his arm. He reeled back and caught it in the face with a menacing slice and threw yet another kick at the soldier holding on to his ankles. This time, he felt his foot collide with the skeleton's ribcage.

He looked back up the mound, and with a monstrous breath of air, continued to climb it to the top. The top was a level chunk from the wall of a nearby building. He threw a hand on top and kicked off from where he was to propel himself up. Some of the skeletons were climbing next to him, the grabbed him by his shirt and resisted him.

Theron was half on the top. He clenched his eyes from the strain of trying to lift himself up. The soldiers pulled and tugged, fiercely trying to tear him from the top. He strained to reach out from beneath the piling soldiers and felt the ring scrape across the top.

A pyre of white smoke formed atop the mound. White light poured into the sky in a massive, twisting spire. An explosion of white light knocked Theron from the mound. He fell to the ground with the broken bones of what once were the walking dead as the light atop the mound continued to dance like a huge white fire.

Theron felt tired. He shut his eyes and collapsed on the ground unmoving, his breaths shallow and forced. He heard someone shout his name, he thought it was Ginasa. Two strong hands held him up and he rolled his head back to see who it was who held him. It was Ginasa. She had him by the back and under his arms.

"Are you alright?" she asked in a panicked voice.

"I'm just a little tired," he said.

"I'm afraid his fate is sealed," said a strong voice from atop the mound. "I'm afraid it is always the bravest of us who are destined for the most ill fates."

Ginasa followed the voice up the mound. On top, she found a firm, resolute expression on a face that appeared both unflappable and at the same time, filled with pain. She nearly gasped at the site of the figure atop the mound. It was a man, but at the same time, it was something else. From its back sprouted two, feathered wings. Its limbs were thick and powerful. It wore a pure, white armor that revealed a muscular form beneath. On its head, the figure wore a helmet with a face like a dragon's.

Tyr had risen.

A bright white light in a line behind him rushed forward, growing like the headlights of a truck at night. It took the form of a legion of angelic soldiers huddling behind their leader. They glowed like starlight and never once touched the ground. Upon their backs were more wings like Tyr's.

Tyr glanced back at the angelic warriors, and then at the city where Ryt was busily destroying everything and cutting down the ranks of CHG and Azrulian soldiers. He raised his sword and drew an immense breath. He loosed a terrifying cry like a lions roar, it was deep and rumbling. The skeletons surrounding the mound backed up in fear and terror, now on the receiving end of so powerful a force.

Tyr rushed down the mound with the angelic legion hot on his heels. He ran forward and smashed into the dead soldiers, cutting them down before they had the chance to fight back. Shattered bones fell to the ground, piling atop one another until they were no more.

Once the legion of skeletons surrounding the mound was gone, Tyr continued on through the city towards where the Lycans fought a losing battle against the thousands of Ryt's soldiers. He ran over the bodies of the casualties taken before Sehrab had arrived and continued on to the fight ahead. He charged in, hacking away, stabbing and breaching the bones of his rotted foe. The angelic warriors swept over everything else, obliterating the skeletons and turning them to dust.

The Lycans cheered furiously for the men who had saved them from so horrible a battle, but Tyr and the angelic soldiers behind him continued on, fighting for every step as they made their way to the center of the city where Ryt filled the sky.

Death for the dead, Tyr and his warriors cut through formations of the skeleton armies of Ryt. Bones scattered across the streets as he charged ever forward at his dark enemy.

As finally he reached near to the center, Tyr leapt into the air and flew high overhead. A glow surrounded him, thickly blanketing over like a fog so as to conceal his form. It grew until finally, it dissipated over the city leaving behind not man but beast.

A gleaming, white, draconic figure all but graced the sky. Golden fires burned madly up and down his spine. His white scales shone brightly in the light, piercing the clouds of dust and ash. His eyes were like a man's eyes but twice as large. His teeth were sharp and filled his mouth. His wings, though larger, remained feathered and angelic.

Ryt took notice of his rival hovering in the sky. He took off from where he sat in the city and flew towards Tyr, snaking through the air ever faster. He wrapped himself around Tyr and tried to crush the white dragon only to realize his mistake. Tyr rotated causing Ryt to rotate with him and for Ryt's neck to drop straight into his mouth. With a crunching sound, Tyr ripped flesh from Ryt's neck and was subsequently released.

Ryt's head went immediately to his wound as he hovered. Tyr charged forward and bit into the middle of Ryt's snake-like body. His strong bite and sharp teeth cut the black dragon in two and Ryt fell lifelessly to the ground in two parts.

Tyr reared back in the sky, beating his wings only to keep from falling to the ground. He loosed a roar that shook the buildings and the sky above and the ground beneath, triumphantly calling out to any who could hear.

***

Marthus and Jaavi sat amongst piles of bones, out of breath and panting. They had not seen another of Ryt's soldiers in quite some time and were growing nervous the things might try climbing in through the many windows.

The floor shook.

"Here they come," Marthus said.

"No," said Jaavi. "Look."

He pointed to scores of angelic soldiers advancing over piles of scattered bones. Marthus got up and hurried down the stairs, an almost irrational sort of feeling in his movements.

"Where are you going?" Jaavi called after him.

"Cholstoy," Marthus said over his shoulder as he rushed out into the street.

He ran as hard and as fast as he could, trying to outrun the winged warriors. They passed him easily and yet still, he persevered through sheer determination. Following the group of glowing figures, he came upon a hill where the angelic soldiers appeared to be gathering in a circle. They moved aside as he approached. Carefully and walking now, he made his way through their ranks where he saw something all too familiar.

A raider with three rings hooping around its head was waiting on the ground. It was Cholstoy.

Although he had no wounds, Cholstoy appeared to be dying. His breaths were shallow and forced. His eyes had a sort of glazed look.

"We meet again," he said, laughing insanely.

"We didn't meet the first time," Marthus said. "You ambushed me and killed hundreds of my fellows during a peaceful mission to your planet."

Cholstoy threw his head back and laughed, then coughed as his lungs were giving out. He wheezed some more.

"You humans," he said. "You're too gullible. You would believe anything I say to you."

Marthus put the barrel of his gun to Cholstoy's head.

"I do this out of pity," he said, and then pulled the trigger.

A blast forced its way through Cholstoy's cranium. The raider fell to the ground, stone dead. Marthus put his gun away. He thought shooting Cholstoy would have brought him joy, but he didn't feel any happier. If anything, he felt worse. Now there was no more archenemies out there, no more reason to always be on his guard. With Cholstoy gone, that was it.

He sat on the dirty ground and waited. A hand crept up on his shoulder. Marthus whirled around. It was Jaavi. He looked concerned.

"It's over now captain," he said.

"Yeah, It is."

***

Ginasa felt Theron's body growing colder. She knew he was dying, and yet she smiled. There was something Thomas had said before she left. "May you find what you seek." She'd already decided on what she was going to do.

She unhinged her jaw brought Theron slightly closer. The boy was like a ragdoll in her arms. She held on tight and let her warm breath wash over him.

"Theron," she said. "Do you trust me?"

Theron groaned in a way that sounded like a "what."

"Do you trust me?"

With a raw and elemental will power, Theron lifted his head and managed a nod. Ginasa smiled. She pushed him into her mouth and began with his head this time. Theron began to feel his consciousness give way as she pushed his head in past her tonsils.

Ginasa swallowed, and soon was at his shoulders. As with before, she worked one shoulder in before the other and used it to pry her mouth open. She was making better time than before. Tiny bulges that appeared like Theron's face in the skin of her throat. They descended further in until they disappeared behind her chest. Before long, his arms and waist followed suit and all that remained of him in this world was his legs, sticking straight up out of Ginasa's mouth.

As more of him entered the stomach, Ginasa's belly became distended. This time, her stomach acids washed over him, carrying a little more of him off. But Theron was not meant to be digested as food. Pieces of him were carried off not as nourishment, but to be reformed in another part of the body.

Ginasa worked her head around Theron's feet and let his weight sink her to the ground. In her stomach, Theron was rapidly vanishing. He could not feel pain anymore. He was out hard and not coming back. Pieces of him were carried off to be reformed as a fetus in Ginasa's womb.

Ginasa put her hand on her stomach and dozed off with a smile on her face.