Ch. 36: Anger

The sun broke out over the barren hills, basking the bog and its surroundings in a meager light. A thin pall of smoke partially shrouded the 13 Lord of Chaos base, casting a shadow over its inhabitants. Dye and Jacob stood at one of the many entrances to the base, trying to decide what to do.



“How many entrances are there to this base?” Jake stretched and yawned. On either side of him, still dripping, were two enormous swordfish. He had dragged both of them all the way from the Requiem base, for questionable reasons.



“Didn’t you hear Saint last night? He said that there were seven.” Dye rubbed his eyes to keep himself awake, then reached down to his neck, taking out a small, star-shaped sapphire on a black chain. Runes rolled gently across the amulet’s surface, whispering a name that only Dye knew. He rubbed the sapphire once, and it glowed, warming his fingers. A small smile spread across his face, but vanished as Jake came up with a new question.



“Why didn’t we just attack them from one side? It would be a lot safer than splitting up.”



“Because, then enemy troops would only have to worry about guarding one entrance. With Saint’s plan, we can get them from all directions, leaving no way for them to sneak away or break out.”



“Who did Saint assign to each road?” Dye cringed. He was seriously considering knocking out Jake for a while and carrying him along, rather than suffer his constant banter.



Gritting his teeth, he answered. “I don’t remember who was assigned to each road. I only remember that the seven groups were Creed, Seth, Nathan and Skell, Fire, Saint, you and me, and five other guys in the last group.”



“Who are those five guys?”



“I don’t remember, stop asking me questions!” Jake was finally silent for a moment.



“What are we standing here for?”



“We’re trying to figure a way to get into this stupid base.”



“Can’t we just knock?”



Dye rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to hit Jake. “If we knocked, it would be an invitation for them to rain arrows down on us.”



“Oh…why would they do that?”



“Did you have amnesia or something!?!?!?”



“No, I’m just sleepy. I’ll probably remember everything in a couple of hours.”



Dye took a deep breath. “The 13 Lord of Chaos is our enemy.”



“Why is that?”



“Because, they tried to blow up our leader!!! They practically declared war on us!!!”



“Why?”



Dye opened his mouth, paused. “I…don’t know. Why don’t you ask Kobi himself when you get to him?”



“Ask Kobi? What a hilaaarious idea! Maybe I’ll let you, maybe I won’t.” Dye jumped, startled by mirthless laughter ringing around him.



“Jake, was that you?” Dye already knew the answer, knew that the voice was too high-pitched and cold. He turned, saw Jacob’s face pale and glistening with sweat. Jake slowly shook his head.



“Up here, you two.” The two of them turned to face the 13 Lord of Chaos entrance. There, perched atop the closed doors, was a thing. It was topless, with the muscular torso of a man. Black, jagged tattoos covered its chest, leaving little skin untouched. However, that was all that was human about it. Its legs were covered by a long, wide skirt made of a brown, hairy material. Closer examination revealed them to be human scalps. Its hands and legs were the same: black, feathered claws ending in four pointed talons. They could have belonged to an eagle or some other bird of prey. One claw grasped a long, wooden staff with a bird’s skull perched on top, a pair of black feathers for decoration. On the creature’s back were two enormous black wings, folded, molding, flies buzzing about them. But it was its head that held Dye and Jake’s attention. The visage of a raven looked down upon them, twin, beady eyes surveying them with a mixture of cunning and malice, its black beak agape in an ugly grimace. And from this grimace came peals of harsh, clattering laughter.

Jacob knew better than to ask stupid questions to this entity. It irradiated a chilling aura unlike anything he had ever felt before. A demon would usually cause terror and panic to anything that came too close to it, while an ice mage merely froze anything within reach. The feeling created here was neither one of terror nor one of cold. Instead, a sickly sense swept over the body, making flesh crawl and bone shiver. At the same time, ghostly images danced across the eyes, inhuman and macabre. Dread and despair enveloped the mind, drowning out all thoughts. Jake knew the feeling all too well. It was the feeling of death.



Still, he couldn’t resist asking one simple question. “Can you please let us in?” The effect was broken. Dye snorted, came back to his senses, death and despair leaving his mind, only to be replaced with annoyance. But the creature seemed amused. It laughed horribly, emitting a shrill cawing.



“Let you in? Let you in? Of course I’ll let you in!” It fluttered down from its perch above the door, rapping the metal gates in the process with the bird skull on its staff. The doors swung inwards, creaking loudly. Then the creaking was drowned out by a louder noise: the sound of a thousand birds cawing. A storm of ravens erupted from behind the entrance, black feathers and flapping wings everywhere. Dye unsheathed his scimitar, embers glowing in his eyes. Jake picked up both swordfish, shaking each one a little. They flopped about limply. Then the birds were upon them.



Dye was the luckier of the two. He had thick guardian armor that covered most of his body, leaving only his head vulnerable to attack. It was there that he spent the most time protecting himself, swatting away birds with his scimitar, leaving piles of dead bodies around him. Jake however, was less fortunate. Light, leather armor offered little more protection than paper against the sharp beaks of the attacking birds. He dropped his swordfish, raising his arms to protect himself. Dye looked over as he swatted away another batch of birds, knew Jake was not going to last very long. Then Dye felt a tug at his neck. He looked down, saw a raven pulling at the black chain of his necklace, trying to make off with his amulet. The sapphire star glowed weakly, as if it were begging to be saved. Deep down, Dye felt an uncontrollable rage building, felt it build up at an abnormal rate, bubbling through his system. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the anger surge through his body. It felt good to be mad, in the primal kind of way that couldn’t be expected from merely being annoyed or ticked off, but really hot mad. Kept his eyes closed as he listened to the cawing of the ravens around him, feeling their beaks scratching against his armor, felt his necklace threatening to break and fall to the ground, just lying there. Just as he had seen her lying, lifeless. Dye felt the heat building up around him, could tell the air was shimmering without looking. The sound of the birds died out, leaving him with nothing but the sound of his own rage. He wanted nothing more than to…



Jake turned, eyes wide. A moment later, he was blown away, sent tumbling head over heels until he collided into the outer wall of the enemy base. As he struggled to blink the stars from his eyes, arms still raised to ward off the birds, he heard a loud roar. Not a human roar, but the roar of fire. A wave of heat pressed him against the wall, blasting dry air into his face, burning his nostrils, eating away at moisture and life. The raven-headed creature, on the other hand, shut its eyes tight, folding black wings around itself and went down on all fours, claws digging into the ground to keep from being blasted off his feet. For a wild moment, nothing could be seen or heard besides towering flames. Then, the raven-head opened one eye, then the other.



Dye was standing in the middle of the road, armor coated with brilliant orange flames. His eyes glared, flames flickering in their depths. About him, the fried remains of the bird army were piled up in heaps that towered above Dye’s head. Burn feathers were still raining down all over the place, darkening the sky where they stood. Dye’s massive scimitar trailed a long tongue of fire as he swung it around himself once, then charged. The bird-headed creature leaped up, tried to take off, but found its wings stripped of their feathers and charred. It fluttered helplessly, stumbled backwards. Legs flailed wildly for a moment, then found their grip. The creature came to a stop inside its own base. When it looked up, it was already too late. Dye brought his flaming scimitar in for an uppercut, sweeping the raven-head off its feet and sending it careening through a set of unoccupied soldier tents, trailing flames.



Dye dashed after his opponent, not wanting to give him a chance to get up. Following the trail of burning wreckage left by the raven-head, his flaming armor rekindled the dying flames of the soldier tents, leaving behind nothing but ash. As Dye followed the road of destruction to his enemy, he emerged from the flaming wrecks of tents into a wide, circular clearing. In the middle of the clearing was an enormous pillar of wood, intricate carvings and scratched-on runes running down its sides in a spiraling pattern. At the top of the column was the carved visage of a hideous bird, mouth gaping, tongue pointed, eyes bulging. At its base lay the creature, its own head the spitting image of the carved wood above it. As Dye approached, it looked up, beak opened, breath rasping. Across its chest, where Dye’s scimitar had slashed it, a big, angry weal had shown. But its skin had not been pierced.



“It’s useless.” Dye paused in the middle of raising his blade for another slash. Flames flickered in the silence for a moment as Dye registered a simple thought. It had spoken.



“What’s useless?” The creature struggled to sit up, staggering to its feet, using the wooden pillar behind it as a support. Then, after carefully examining its wound, it answered Dye’s question.



“There’s no point in trying to cut me.”



Dye rolled his eyes. “What, are you going to tell me some stupid crap like ‘I can’t be cut by your puny blade’ or something like that?” A hacking cough. The raven-head paused for a moment, doubled over, before standing up again.



“No. You can cut me all you want. But no sword can kill me, all the same.” As Dye watched, the creature put a clawed hand flat against the wooden column. A faint, sickly blue glow flowed into the creature’s hand and down its arm. It ran down across Dye’s slash mark, erasing it completely, then moved back to replenish the feathers on the raven-head’s wings. The creature looked up, grinning, its movements now smooth, with the hint of power behind them. Dye took a step backwards, stunned. Flames from his armor began to ignite the surrounding tents, spreading across the base. The creature turned, waved an arm. A faint, bluish mist settled over the base, shrouding anything further than ten feet away. A shiver ran its way down Dye’s back. He jumped, looked around. The fires around him had died down. He raised a gloved hand to his eyes. It was no longer on fire. A dark, pungent stink settled over the site. The stink of death.