Chapter 23

Pillar stared at the destruction King Rowan created. There were at least six of the King's own men that were caught in that blast. He sacrificed them to kill the Blak Soldiers. The worst part was that the King had known it too. He knew what he was doing. Part of Pillar felt betrayed by that. Especially considering he would've been caught in that blast too if he hadn't acted quickly enough. If he had been even a second later, he would've been just another person King Rowan threw away. He tried to reconcile that fact with himself and found he was having trouble doing it. He might very well have made the same decision if he'd been in the King's shoes, but that didn't change the way he felt about it.

"Let's go, Sire," Pillar said. "We need to fortify our position in case the Blak Army has reinforcements coming our way."

Pillar walked off, heading back to the camp, but Rowan stayed behind for a few minutes more.

**

King Rowan stared at the circle of destruction for a long time before he turned away and walked back toward the camp. It was clear that Wilhelm knew where he was and he was equally sure that the maniac wasn't going to stop until he was dead. He needed to prepare. He needed to get ahead of the situation. He was starting to realize that Milo was right.

It was time they stopped running.

"Let's pick up the pieces," Rowan yelled. "Get moving! Time's wasting."

The remnants of Rowan's soldiers and refugees started running around. They cleared debris away and pulled the bodies of the fallen aside. They were arranged in neat, precise rows. They were treated with the utmost respect, their arms folded neatly across their chests. Each fallen soldier was marked with a simple line going down the middle of their foreheads. Most of the marks were used with dirt, but some were used with blood.

The mark was a symbol the dead received. It was a tradition dating back since the beginning of humanity's time in Purga. The mark was meant to provide a way to part the veil of their purgatory and give the dead their passage into Heaven. Those that were disgraced or banished from the kingdom did not get the mark and their souls were said to be lost forever.

Rowan walked up and down the line of fallen soldiers. He looked at each one, making sure to burn their faces into his memory. The last few months had been nothing but a blur of fighting to survive, to live. He wanted to make sure that he remembered those that were lost. The worst part, he realized, was that so many more would due before this war ended.

"Sire, we need to get you into a strong fortified structure," an Imperial Guard named Carter Manton said. "It's not safe to be out in the open like this."

Carter ushered Rowan back to the campsite. Most of the tents had been destroyed but people were already starting to rebuild them and the defenses.

"Status," Rowan asked as he came up to Lt. Pillar. Carter stood next to him, scanning the surrounding area diligently.

Pillar turned around at the sound of the King's voice. His face was bloody on one side and an arm had been bandaged near the wrist. He looked weary and exhausted from the previous fight, but there was a sense of determination to his face despite that.

"Twenty-five casualties. Thirteen of them dead and twelve severely injured, including Lord Rosburg." Pillar rubbed his forehead in frustration.

"What happened to Milo?" Rowan asked. The chaos of the battle had been a confusing blur of explosions, gunfire, and fighting just to stay alive. Almost as soon as the fighting started, he'd lost track of everyone, including Milo and Fiona.

"I'll let him tell you, Your Highness. He's awake in the medics' tent over there," Pillar responded. He pointed to a tent in the far right of the campsite. It was slightly larger than the rest.

"Thank you," Rowan told him. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine, Sire," Pillar told him, his voice clipped.

Rowan eyed him for a second. He saw the lurking mistrust the lieutenant had for him. It was understandable, considering what he had to do, so he just nodded and left Pillar to continue leading the rebuilding efforts.

He headed through the camp to the medics' tent and walked through the door a moment later. He saw a dozen people lying on cots. Some had relatively minor injuries but a lot of people were in far worse shape. Some had bandages wrapped around their heads which were soaked through with blood. Others were missing limbs. Some were being treated for burn injuries. Racing around and trying hard to help people survive were the medics. They looked harried, exhausted, and ready to collapse.

In a cot in the far back of the tent was Milo. He was on a slab of metal made from nanos because the cots wouldn't hold his immense weight. By his side was Fiona. She looked like a complete, emotional wreck. Her eyes were red and the skin around them was puffy. She held her father's hand and kept talking to him, trying to be soothing.

At the bottom of his arm where his cannon should've been was nothing but a stump covered by a nano-regen bandage. It was currently regenerating the skin tissue on the end of his arm while simultaneously stopping the blood coming out of his wound. He looked alert and was conscious as Rowan walked up to him.

"Sire," he said.

"How are you, old friend," Rowan asked him.

"I've been in worse situations," he replied with a small smile.

"Can you tell me anything?" Rowan asked. "How did this happen?"

Milo didn't say anything for a long time. Neither did Fiona, although she looked even sadder than she had been a second ago. She even started crying. She gripped her father's hand harder.

"Why don't you get some air," Milo whispered to his daughter. "I'll tell him."

Fiona gave her father a kiss on his forehead and then left.

"What's going on, Milo?" Rowan asked.

"Darvian Tims was subverted. He was leading the attack."

Rowan sat down next to him.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"As sure as I'm breathing right now. And there's more. He kept yelling about how Fiona was promised to him. And then he pulled some kind of creature out of his mouth. I think it was meant to turn her. I'm not sure exactly." Milo started to get up. He sat on the side of the metal slab and looked Rowan in the eyes. "This only confirms what I've suspected. Wilhelm's power is growing and now these creatures, I fear, will only add to it."

"Why does he need them?" Rowan asked. "He's subverted others with this power before without the need for these creatures. Why now?"

"He's after the Terras. That would be my guess. The nature of their own power, I believe, would give them a buffer against the power Wilhelm has. He needed something else, something stronger, to turn them. I also believe that his power has evolved. In the beginning, what he did to others was to nudge them to his side. It was an insidious ability but for the most part, people were still themselves. I feel that these creatures not only control people, but they also completely wipe out their free will. I saw evidence of this with Darvian himself. There was a moment when he was able to resist, but it didn't last long."

"That is the most promising thing I've heard since this all started," Rowan commented.

"How so?" Milo asked.

"It means the effects are not permanent. That they can still be saved."

**

Fiona walked through the camp. She didn't take in anything though. Her mind was somewhere else. She kept seeing Darvian's face over and over again. And she kept seeing the creature. The one that came out of his mouth.

Her eyes started watering, which was annoying to her. She wasn't much of a crier. She couldn’t help it though. Darvian was lost to her now. Forever? She didn't know. Everything was so confusing. Her world was confusing. All she did now was fight.

Fight to survive.

Fight people that had been friends.

Fight people that had been more.

She couldn't help feeling so much despair. And she couldn't help feel like it was all for nothing.

"You okay?"

Fiona looked up and found Mera looking down at her.

"What's wrong" she asked as she sat down next to her.

Fiona couldn't take it anymore. She looked at Mera, her chin wavering. A second later and she was bawling her eyes out. Mera just held her close. She hugged her and offered what comfort she could.

"What happened, Fiona?" she asked.

Fiona told her everything about her fight with Darvian. She told her about how Darvian was the cloaked man that had been controlling the other Blak Soldiers. She told her about their fight. She told her about the things Darvian said and she told her about the spider-creature that he'd pulled out of his mouth twice.

"But he came back to himself, right?" Mera asked.

Fiona nodded sadly.

"Then he can do it again. He can fight it," Mera insisted.

Fiona wasn't sure about that. Whatever power was controlling him was strong. Maybe too strong for Darvian to overcome permanently. She could still see the way his eyes had looked in the last few seconds they were together. She could see the fear in them.

He told her to run and even though she wanted to save him, she listened. She'd used her nanos to carry her wounded father and then she ran.

And she hated herself for it.

She sat with Mera for awhile longer. She relished the feeling of motherhood coming from the woman. It wasn't a feeling she was familiar with. Her own mother died when she was born. The only one that had ever been there for her was her father and while she loved him dearly, there were some areas in her life where she found herself wishing for her mother to be there to guide her and comfort her.

This was one of those times.

Her mother, according to her father, had been a compassionate and bright light in a world gone dim with prejudice and hatred. She had stood, unwavering, against the belief that the two races of Purga had to keep fighting each other. She was the biggest reason that her father had been the man he'd been. A man that was starting to turn against the unending fight against the Terras. She was the reason he'd stopped fighting and became the Lord of Raleigh instead of the Phantom. The Ghost. A killer. She had made him see and understand that there was a chance that the world could become whole instead of the fragmented war zone that the Rooks and Terras had turned it into.

He had loved her dearly and when she died, it nearly broke him.

Fiona knew that the only reason he'd come back to himself was because he knew she would've wanted him to go on. To keep fighting for a better world for their daughter.

And so he had.

Fiona only wished she could've met her. She wished she could've experienced her mother's strength herself. The strength she must've had could've inspired so much change.

Fiona wiped her eyes with her hand and collected herself. She filled her mind with thoughts of her mother, and it made things easier for her. It made the pain more bearable.

"You okay now?" Mera asked.

She nodded and smiled weakly.

"For now," she said, laughing slightly.

"We are going to beat this Blak Army. We will find a way," she reassured her Fiona nodded shakily and then heard footsteps coming their way. Fast.

They both looked toward the sound. Running toward them was Jord and behind him was Sparks.

Something was wrong though. Sparks had a blank, emotionless look on his face. In his left hand was a blaster. He raised it calmly and fired three shots.

"They're comin-" Jord tried to yell, but he took three rounds of blaster fire from Sparks before he could get the warning completely out. He went down hard and skidded across the ground. He didn't move or get back up.

Fiona stared at him in shock for a few seconds. She saw the gaping, still smoking holes in the man's chest and felt a second of fear immobilize her. Then Sparks was shooting at them. Her instincts were a bit slow but they were still fast enough to get her out of harm’s way.

Mera was not so lucky.

She'd been moving too, as soon as she saw the threat, but Sparks' aim was deadly perfect. A shot took her in the head and went clean through. She fell to the ground, her eyes staring at the sky.

Fiona yelled out with a mixture of grief and anger. She stood up and faced Sparks by herself.

He shot at her but Fiona was already running at him. Her long spear was forming around her hand and she caught it out of the air as it coalesced completely. She whirled it around, dodging Sparks' gunfire with ease. When she got closer to him, she rolled across the ground and went past him completely. Sparks hesitated and came to a stop. There was a moment of almost robotic stiffness in him. He turned around, but Fiona swept her leg out and knocked him off his feet. She stood up and with a yell of pure, unfiltered anger; she stabbed him in the chest. She jerked her spear out of him and stabbed him again, still yelling. Then she did it again. And again. And again.

She was crying as she stabbed him. There was so much pain inside her she didn't know what to do with it. Stabbing Sparks over and over and over again felt like the only rational thing she could come up with so she kept it up until her exhausted arms wouldn't let her anymore.

When that happened, she fell to the ground weakly. She wrapped her arms around Sparks and whispered "I'm sorry" as she cried. She turned him over and wasn't surprised to see the spider-creature on the back of his neck.

At first, she thought it was dead too. That killing the host somehow killed that perverted monstrosity of nature as well, but then it twitched. It jerked its inch-long mandibles out of Sparks' neck and fell to the ground.

It wobbled slightly, as if it were drunk, and then turned around. Its ugly black eyes glared up at her. It looked as if it were considering something and then it started stumbling toward Fiona.

She got to her feet, took a step toward it, and then speared it through its mutated abdomen. She put her boot to it and kicked it off her spear. Then she let the weapon dissipate into a cloud of nanos that were sucked back into her mechpaks. She bent down and grabbed both Mera and Sparks and started dragging them across the ground. She wasn't going to leave them behind. They deserved more than that.

She hid them both in some underbrush and then went for Jord. When she hid his body, she turned around and was about to head toward the camp to grab some people to retrieve them when she saw something odd in the distance.

The ground looked like it was moving. Her mind was having trouble understanding what she was seeing.

Then it clicked and terror pumped through her.

Coming across the ground was a huge, rolling wave of the spider creatures. There were millions of them. Standing along the ridge line, silhouetted against the trees and the moonlight, was Darvian, his cloak up again. With him were a dozen or more Blak Soldiers. The spider creatures rolled past them like a river surging around rocks.

Fiona wanted to scream, but she choked it down. She backed up a couple steps, almost tripping over a rock half buried in the ground. She caught herself, turned and ran back toward the camp.