Bacorium Legacy (23 page)

“Son - sometimes you have to give things up.”

“You gave up awfully quickly. You were a better hunter than any of these people! A better fighter! How many of these people could have been spared if you would have defended them?!”

“Luca, don't be a fool! We can't fight these men! These are Acarian soldiers!”

“Perhaps you can't. But I won't let these people die in vain. I won't let Arlea's death be meaningless. You can run. I'm going to take out every one of these bastards!

“No...” he muttered, without realising it was aloud. “No, it's not like that at all!”

Even he didn't believe that. It was exactly like that. It was exactly the same situation, and he was doing the exact thing he had hated his father for doing.

“It's different...” Luca muttered to himself. “It has to be. It has to be...”

It was not.

Luca reached the bedroom door, and he began to rap his knuckles on the wood like he hated it.

“Emila?” he called out. “Emila, it's me! C'mon, we have to go!”

No answer.

Luca impatiently looked from the door over to where the front gate was, slightly visible from where he stood. The Acarians were attacking the temple entrance. That would be foolish under any other circumstance. But whatever was on the other side was giving the Allmans trouble. Despite the reinforcement bars they had place against the gate, the massive, powerful thing that was pounding against them was still breaking through, bit by bit.

He knocked again at the door.

“Emila are you in there? Are you okay?!”

No answer.

He heard a scream from near the gate.

“Damn it...”

Luca took a step back and kicked the door with all his strength. It burst within, breaking off its hinges as it hit the wall.

Emila was not in the room.

“Emila...?!”

Where was she, he thought in frustration. He'd told her to come to the room, and she had promised...

No. She hadn't.

There was another scream. The monster on the other side of the gate was almost through.

He couldn't wait any longer. His decision had been swayed.

“I pray she is alright...”

Luca drew his sword and charged down the steps towards the gate.

<> <> <>

“How is everything holding up?” Tranom asked. His armour was scratched and bloodied from the fights earlier. He was short of breath, but that was mostly from the past thirty minutes or so, which he has spent running without pause.

“As well as can be expected,” Brand muttered bitterly. “Those behemoths - the sentry didn't report those.”

“Nothing about this attack makes any damn sense,” Tranom said. “It's like they just appeared right under our noses. How they could have crossed over the mountains, travelling across half of Torachi without a single report... If it was just a small party, I could imagine it, but this is a full legion, just suddenly appearing on our doorstep!”

“And with behemoths, no less,” Brand said. “Something's not adding up here. Either way, though, this is gonna be rough. If only Allma hadn't put on that little show with Ash, we could have had a few extra precious minutes to get ready.”

Tranom frowned. “I may not agree with his methods either, but I'm sure he had his reasons.”

“How is the princess?”

“Safe and secure. She's got her guards from T'Saw to protect her. Still, we're ready to evacuate her just in case things get really bad.”

“They're breaking through!!!”

They turned their attention down to the gate, where the behemoths had very nearly burst down the gate. Their tusks could be seen breaking through the wood with each charge, and the supports that had been put up had done almost nothing to help.

“Archers at the ready!” Tranom shouted. Behind him, the sound of fifty bows being drawn filled the air. Half a dozen other rooftops were doing the same.

Brand drew his sword,
Salamander
, and held it at his side. He was shaking, in spite of
himself. Usually he was calmer. But this would be his first battle - the first real test of his skills.
 

“Apprentice,” Tranom said to his student. “You should get down there, with the fighters. They could use your help.”

Brand hesitated. He had wanted to stay on the rooftops with his master. But Tranom was right. Brand was no archer. He would be a greater help down where the fighting was.

“Good luck,” he said to Tranom.

“And to you, my apprentice.”

Brand started to run, passing the five rows of archers as he made his way to the ladder at the back of the building.

But then he stopped.

“It can't be.”

He turned back around, his eyes finding a single archer in the back row - the only one who had not drawn their bow. A head of long, black hair turned, meeting his gaze with nervous, green eyes.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked her.

<> <> <>

Luca held his replacement sword, as the behemoths on the other side of the gate made their final charge.

“Everyone, brace yourselves!” someone screamed.

The charge came, and the gate burst open. The left half swung open, striking the wall with enough force to break itself off its hinges. The right half, its hinges already broken, went flying into the air like a giant spinning missile. Someone barked an order, and two or three dozen students blasted at the airborne gate with their magick. A rainbow of fire, ice, lightning, and colourless energy struck the giant slab of wood and it burst open. Many smaller pieces of it struck the ground around them, and nobody was crushed.

“The behemoths!!!”

Two fur-covered beasts led the Acarians' charge into the temple. The things stood two stories in height, and each had a pair of tusks as long as a man was tall. Their legs shook the ground as they walked.

“Archers, open fire!”

A rain of arrow came down from the rooftops. A hundred arrows struck the behemoths, and they gave out massive cries of pain. But still, in spite of the pain, or perhaps because of it, they continued to charge.

But the Allmans had anticipated that. Having already moved to the sides of the temple grounds, the behemoths charged straight past them and ran into a trap set by the earth magi - a massive pool of mud. The behemoths struggled and thrashed about, but the trap was already closing in around them. Massive amounts of earth-form mana ran through the mud, and it solidified, returning to its natural state of hard rock. The behemoths, unable to move, could do nothing as a second wave of arrows struck them.

So with the massive, half-buried corpses of the behemoths behind them, the Allmans turned their attention back to the shattered gate.

At least a thousand Acarian soldiers were waiting on the other side. They stood in perfect rows, unmoving and emotionless. There were no banner-men, just a thousand faceless figures in the same black armour and helmet, as still as statues. Their weapons were not even drawn.

At the head of the force stood a lone man garbed in the signature black armour. Luca could not see him very clearly through the thick cloud of dust left in the behemoths' wake, but there was only one person that could be leading them.

“Zinoro...” he muttered.

“The enemy's gate is down!” shouted the man at the head of the Acarian army. “Attack!”

The Acarians drew their swords and charged.

“For Allma!” shouted one of the masters. “For the temple!”

As the students and masters alike cheered the name of Allma, it mattered not whether it was for the man or the temple. They ran out to meet the Acarians.

Luca followed behind them. The sound of swords clashing, magick being cast, and blood being shed filled the air. The Acarians vastly outnumbered the Allmans, but the archers up on the rooftops supported them with accurate arrows that brought the Acarians down where they stood.

Luca charged through the battlefield, cutting down Acarians when they challenged him, but his sight was set on a single man.

Yet as he drew near him, he realised this was not Zinoro. This man wore the same armour, but he looked unlike anyone Luca had ever seen. His skin was a very ashen shade of grey, and was covered from head to toe in strange tattoos. He had no hair on his head, not even eyebrows. His eyes gazed out from within two rings of black paint that, coupled with his lack of eyebrows, gave him an intense stare.

As Luca grew closer to him, the Allmans around him grew fewer, and the Acarians grew greater. He heard the Allmans shouting to retreat. It would seem the Acarians had overwhelmed them with sheer numbers.

He fought as much as he could. He was in too deep now to get away. He had struck down a large number of Acarians, but he could not fight an entire army. The sword he had found was knocked out of his hands, and he was beaten down by half a dozen men in armour. He felt a sword against his throat.

“Wait, wait,” said the man with the tattoo, who was approaching him. “Yes, he'll do. Send my message to Allma. Tell him I have a prisoner.”

<> <> <>

“We need more arrows,” said Tranom to one of the archers. “Send a team to the armoury for more immediately.”

“Sir, we're out,” the archer replied. “We've used up the full stock of arrows already.”

“The entire temple's stock?! Damn it all.” Tranom's eyes narrowed in rage as he turned his attention back to the battlefield. The Allmans had retreated back into the temple, and were gathered around the centre sanctum. The only thing separating them from the enemy was the giant behemoth corpses. The Acarians were holding their position at the gate, and were not moving further into the temple.

“Why aren't they pressing their advantage?”

“Where is he?” Brand muttered. “Did you see him down there?”

Tranom shook his head.

“How could he just disappear like that? How can it be so difficult to spot someone with white hair?” Brand turned to Emila. “You're certain he's still alive?”

“I-I would have felt it,” she said hesitantly. “If he would have died, I would know. Without doubt.”

“But how?!” Brand exclaimed.

Emila bit her lip, and looked with pleading eyes at the battlefield that had once been the front garden of the temple. “We're - connected. I can't really explain it, but whatever he feels, I feel.”

“I've never heard of such a thing,” Tranom said.

A messenger appeared at the top of the ladder, and ran over to Tranom. “S-sir... The Acarians have - have sent a message Master Allma. They have a hostage, and th-their leader wants to meet him.”

“Zinoro?” Tranom asked.

The messenger shook his head, still short of breath. “N-no, sir. It's one of his acolytes. Dreevius, I think they said was his name.”

“I see Allma now,” Brand said suddenly. “He's going out with his squire.”

Tranom turned to Emila. “Girl. You're an ice-form magus, right?”

“Y-yes,” Emila said hesitantly.

“We have no more arrows left,” Tranom said. “I need you to make an arrow with your magick.”

“But - why?”

“Because we cannot trust the Acarians. They might be planning to kill Allma. If their leader takes any hostile action against Allma, we need to be able to support him.”

“Oh... I see.”

Emila gathered her mana and wove in into the shape of an arrow. It was slightly crooked, but the end was sharp enough.

“It'll have to do,” Tranom said. “Draw your bow and get ready. I think I can see the Acarian leader coming through the gate.”

“You want me to shoot him?!”

“Who else?!” Tranom exclaimed, irritated. “Why did you come up here, armed with a bow, if not to shoot down our enemies? That arrow is your magick - we cannot give it to another archer. It's up to you.”

“B-but...”

“Get your bow out now,” Tranom growled.

“Master,” Brand cut in. “We may have another archer who can use a solid mana form. This girl, she's not a-”

“We do not have time for this, apprentice,” Tranom interrupted. “She came up here, so she's a soldier now. We do not have the luxury of debate. There's too much at stake here.”

With shaky hands, Emila picked up her bow and placed the magick arrow she had made upon it.

“I've never killed before...” she whispered. “I can't... I can't do this... I can't do this...”

Brand placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Just relax. It'll be okay.” He gave her a reassuring smile, but Emila was not reassured. In fact, tears were beginning to run down her cheeks.

“They do have a hostage...” Tranom said. “Take a look.”

He looked down at the centre of the battlefield, where the Acarian leader and Allma had gathered to meet. At the feet of the Acarian leader, was a figure with white hair.

<> <> <>

“This attack is unwarranted,” Allma said sternly. “There is no reason for this invasion. You have come into the kingdom of Torachi, and made an attack upon a protected place. This will be considered an act of war, and will be treated as such by the Alliance. By attacking this temple, you have declared war with Torachi, Saeticia, and Sono. Is Acaria really prepared for that?”

Dreevius barked out a loud laugh, and he did not move from his side. His sword was pressed up against Luca's throat.

“This is no act of war,” Dreevius said. “Come now, Allma. Surely you received our message. Let's not play this game any longer. You knew this attack was coming.”

Allma's expression did not change. His reply was level. “I received no message from Acaria.”

Dreevius snorted. “So be it. Well, you know what it is we're after. Just bring out the daughter of Zaow, and we will leave. This student of yours will be returned unharmed, and we can both go our separate ways.”

Luca looked up from the ground. So they were after Selphie, he thought.

He looked up as best he could at the man who held him captive. There had been no glimmer of recognition in his eyes when he had seen Luca. This attack hadn't been for him, at least. It was likely Zinoro didn't even know where he was, or if he even still lived.

His gaze shifted over to Allma to see what the man was thinking. Allma's eyes passed over Luca for a moment, deep in thought. His squire, Rael, stood nervously behind him.