Excerpt from "Darkness Beneath the Sun"
Far ahead of the main force, the beasts roared forward with a hunger that drove them onward. Their teeth and claws flickered in the waving curtains of light that they tore through and their mouths were flecked with saliva that foamed at the promise of new prey. Leading them, and as hungry for battle, Reece Dracomyr bounded with eager strides that kept her even in front of the swiftest creatures under her command. Her grin mirrored the fang-filled mouths of the hounds at her heels and the long shafted spear she bore glittered with the raw shine of polished bone. Her eyes were wide and the black plates of steel she wore over he shoulders and chest cut through the air with a hiss as her long skirts whipped behind her like tails of crimson cloth.
As they closed in on the cathedral, the outer perimeter of Creel’s defenses became apparent. Men and women of all ages, cloaked and hooded in rough, raw white vestments formed a circle around the entire, massive structure. They stood, hand in hand, looking defiantly out at the ravening beasts that descended upon them and the pitiless dragoon that lead them with cold eyes of faith. Their voices were raised in a chant of exaltation, as if Creel himself would step out of the cathedral any moment, to save them from the horde that swarmed before them.
“What a shame,” Reece commented, sucking a deep lungful of air down between strides, “faith makes for a poor shield.” Her expression locked into an amalgam of a snarl and a laugh, her spear twirling above her head and her pace slowing ever so slightly. With one, final skip, she came down on one leg, bent her knee until it touched the ground, and sprang upwards with sonic force. The beasts, smelling their food at last, closed the final few yards with great, bounding leaps even as their commander vanished high into the sky above, the light twinkling off of her black armored plates before the clouds enveloped her.
The faithful did not scream, even as their bodies were torn into by teeth and talons. White robes ran scarlet and the whole of the monsters piled over one another to reach the injured and dying while some flesh yet remained. Across the field, Phare turned her eyes from the sight and held her hand before her face. It was horrible, even if she knew what came next.
From the butchery of the front lines, there came a blast of wind that swept through the massacre like a musical tone. It swelled and grew until the wind echoed the hymn of hope the men and woman had sung in the face of grinning death. From their torn flesh and shattered bones, light began to pour forth, like tall wheat growing whole seasons in seconds. Tendrils of cold light wove together, like strands of webbing, drawing one another into a complex pattern of pale beauty. The gates of the cathedral gleamed with an illumination so intense, even the feasting beasts were obliged to cower backward, shielding their faces from the intensity of the glamour.
Phare raised her head and stared through the light, seeing the shapes that formed within. “They are coming,” she whispered to her commanders who advanced on the blinding miracle. A moment later, the light faded enough to be tolerated by eyes of flesh and they all saw what remained of the faithful. The shapes of the fallen floated above their bodies, lit with a brilliant white that pulsed from within themselves. Great, white wings behind them like hands lifted in prayer, while in their hands, they bore blades of licking fire that seemed golden in their alabaster hands. The only darkness on them was their eyes, which were pits of jet that seemed to fall backwards into unfathomable depths that hurt to look at even more than their shining bodies. The angels sighed with renewed life and raised their blades to cut down the awed monsters that cowered before them.
From the skies above, like a red comet, Reece came streaking down, her spear tip white hot and gouts of fire licking through her grinning teeth. When she struck her target, a tall angel whose impassive face turned upward just in time to see the spear pass through it, there was a concussive boom that shook the cathedral’s walls and set its bells chiming. Dirt flew upwards and rained back down as Reece slowly straightened upright in the crater she had made. A trickle of liquid gold ran down the side of her mouth and she glanced back at the beasts who stared with glowing eyes.
“They taste even better the second time,” she promised, running a bright, red tongue over her lips to lap up the divine blood. The monsters knew an alpha when they saw it and followed suit, leaping at the angles with abandon. Golden swords tore through bone and teeth bit into pale, wispy flesh as the two struggled before the tall walls of Creel’s domain. Reece speared one angel and tore out the throat of another with nails that more closely resembled claws. One angel struck at her, but she caught the blade with her voluminous sleeves and wrenched the weapon from his hand, tearing the cloth from her arm and exposing the wrought iron manacles around her wrists. She glanced at the shackles briefly then turned her attention to the disarmed foe. Opening her mouth wide, she let him see the flames that lurked within her mouth. “Who’s unsuitable to be the leader of the Heroes’ Guild now?” she asked and a blast of scouring flame poured from her lips, burning away the angel’s head like it were vapor.
As they closed in on the cathedral, the outer perimeter of Creel’s defenses became apparent. Men and women of all ages, cloaked and hooded in rough, raw white vestments formed a circle around the entire, massive structure. They stood, hand in hand, looking defiantly out at the ravening beasts that descended upon them and the pitiless dragoon that lead them with cold eyes of faith. Their voices were raised in a chant of exaltation, as if Creel himself would step out of the cathedral any moment, to save them from the horde that swarmed before them.
“What a shame,” Reece commented, sucking a deep lungful of air down between strides, “faith makes for a poor shield.” Her expression locked into an amalgam of a snarl and a laugh, her spear twirling above her head and her pace slowing ever so slightly. With one, final skip, she came down on one leg, bent her knee until it touched the ground, and sprang upwards with sonic force. The beasts, smelling their food at last, closed the final few yards with great, bounding leaps even as their commander vanished high into the sky above, the light twinkling off of her black armored plates before the clouds enveloped her.
The faithful did not scream, even as their bodies were torn into by teeth and talons. White robes ran scarlet and the whole of the monsters piled over one another to reach the injured and dying while some flesh yet remained. Across the field, Phare turned her eyes from the sight and held her hand before her face. It was horrible, even if she knew what came next.
From the butchery of the front lines, there came a blast of wind that swept through the massacre like a musical tone. It swelled and grew until the wind echoed the hymn of hope the men and woman had sung in the face of grinning death. From their torn flesh and shattered bones, light began to pour forth, like tall wheat growing whole seasons in seconds. Tendrils of cold light wove together, like strands of webbing, drawing one another into a complex pattern of pale beauty. The gates of the cathedral gleamed with an illumination so intense, even the feasting beasts were obliged to cower backward, shielding their faces from the intensity of the glamour.
Phare raised her head and stared through the light, seeing the shapes that formed within. “They are coming,” she whispered to her commanders who advanced on the blinding miracle. A moment later, the light faded enough to be tolerated by eyes of flesh and they all saw what remained of the faithful. The shapes of the fallen floated above their bodies, lit with a brilliant white that pulsed from within themselves. Great, white wings behind them like hands lifted in prayer, while in their hands, they bore blades of licking fire that seemed golden in their alabaster hands. The only darkness on them was their eyes, which were pits of jet that seemed to fall backwards into unfathomable depths that hurt to look at even more than their shining bodies. The angels sighed with renewed life and raised their blades to cut down the awed monsters that cowered before them.
From the skies above, like a red comet, Reece came streaking down, her spear tip white hot and gouts of fire licking through her grinning teeth. When she struck her target, a tall angel whose impassive face turned upward just in time to see the spear pass through it, there was a concussive boom that shook the cathedral’s walls and set its bells chiming. Dirt flew upwards and rained back down as Reece slowly straightened upright in the crater she had made. A trickle of liquid gold ran down the side of her mouth and she glanced back at the beasts who stared with glowing eyes.
“They taste even better the second time,” she promised, running a bright, red tongue over her lips to lap up the divine blood. The monsters knew an alpha when they saw it and followed suit, leaping at the angles with abandon. Golden swords tore through bone and teeth bit into pale, wispy flesh as the two struggled before the tall walls of Creel’s domain. Reece speared one angel and tore out the throat of another with nails that more closely resembled claws. One angel struck at her, but she caught the blade with her voluminous sleeves and wrenched the weapon from his hand, tearing the cloth from her arm and exposing the wrought iron manacles around her wrists. She glanced at the shackles briefly then turned her attention to the disarmed foe. Opening her mouth wide, she let him see the flames that lurked within her mouth. “Who’s unsuitable to be the leader of the Heroes’ Guild now?” she asked and a blast of scouring flame poured from her lips, burning away the angel’s head like it were vapor.
Labels: realm reece monster angel
posted by Jonc0re at
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