Champion: A Songs Of War Fanfiction

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Ingressus walked around his home village where Dominus had been murdered years ago, seeing the place of his father's death. A stabbing pain leapt into his throat, memories of the horrific raid still torturing him. He grabbed a hammer and slowly trudged over to an elderly Voltaris.

"I'll take your duty, Ky-Luceren."

The laborer turned to see his master, and kneeled in respect. Ingressus promptly brought him back up.

"You have done your work. Let me do this."

Luceren slowly nodded, then trudged back to his hut. Ingressus began beating nails into the fort, each time, a small failure from the battle at that camp striking him, motivating him to win this one.

"Thalleous," Sarrettus called as he sharpened his sword. "Come over here!"

The lieutenant obeyed, running over to the anvil where Sarrettus was sharpening his sword.

"Can I see your blade?" he inquired. Thallous unsheathed it and passed it to his commanding officer. He took it, observing the many cuts and nicks upon it, but also markings: of Sendaria, of his home, of the soldier, of a wartime hero, and the faded insignia of a champion. Sarrettus had seen the same mark forged upon his own blade months ago. Some runes, however, were unintelligible to the captain."

"What's this at the bottom?" he asked. Thalleous peered at his sword, then at Sarrettus.

"It was there after I got it enchanted," he muttered, sitting down in a wooden chair next to the anvil. Sarrettus took the other seat, enjoying the shade of the small blacksmith's alcove.

"Why does the blade shine?" Sarrettus asked.

"It's supposed to increase my power when it does," Thalleous responded. "Maybe it'll give me the edge against the enemy."

Sarrettus frowned. "We have never seen Voltaris this united."

Thalleous concurred. "I suspect that the war is responsible for that."

"They will all be at Velgrin for their last stand, I'm sure of it." The captain stared at the anvil, looking at his sword and Aggroprime resting on the hard iron surface. " Even if we win, many will die."

Thalleous bowed his head, staring at his sword, watching it slowly stop glowing from the battle a day before. "I just hope you're not among them, Ky-Sarrettus."

The Captain looked at Thalleous and smiled, a single tear running down his face.

"Prepare to march, all hands!" the Nestoris master yelled. "Nestoris, are your camps packed?"

"Yes, Ky-Tellerous!" the Nestoris chorused. A couple hundred feet away, the Sendaris master issued the same orders.

"Mendaris, camps packed and ready!"

"Kaltaris, camps packed!"

"Prepare to march!"

Sarrettus ran to Melkor. "These legions will lead the assault. All the other militia legions not here will rendezvous with us at Velgrin."

Melkor nodded curtly. "Ready your battalion."

Sarrettus called out. "Soldiers!"

"Ready!" came the chorus from two platoons.

"Archers!"
"Ready!" Criordian's men yelled.

"Fall in!"

The battalion rushed into formation as other captains and majors yelled the same command. Row by row, squadron by squadron, platoon by platoon, battalion by battalion, the First Legion of each Ardoni militia prepared to march.

"Forward, march!" Melkor yelled. Soldier's ceremonial collars moved in the wind as the legions walked to their battle.

In the night, after a day of marching, the Ardoni made camp.
"We should reach Velgrin on the 'morrow," Tellerous said. "Rest up for the journey–and the fight."

The Nestoris made camp under some major's leadership. Acchilean unfurled his tent and pitched it before going to aid a private's failing attempt at setting up quarters.

"Put the peg more to the left, right here," Acchilean said, demonstrating the proper act. The private, barely old enough to enlist, thanked his Lieutenant. Acchilean walked away to his tent, collapsing onto the soft grass inside.

His dreams were plagued by Ingressus–when he had first washed up ashore many years ago, and his initial hesitancy towards the Voltaris. How he wished he had stuck with this instinct, but he hadn't–He had taught him to fish, he asked Aegus to initiate Ingressus into the clan, he had learned how to use a sword from him, he had become his brother. Acchilean had advised Ingressus to compete, to try and achieve a peace summit, to stop war between the clans.

"You can end the wars for the Songs!" he had begged Ingressus.

The Voltaris Master had done the opposite.

By some dark magic, he hid other Voltaris in the clans just before the Champion's Tournament. He had unveiled them, and tried to stage a rebellion, but to no avail: he had been stopped briefly. All that had done was motivate him to start the war, and be responsible for the death of thousands. He had flown all across Ardonia and beyond, uniting peoples and species, getting the aid of the End, but to no use except to aid Ingressus in his creation of death.

Nightmares plagued Acchilean throughout the night. Nightmares and remorse.

As the Ardoni marched through Crown Peak, Rendore flew above them, staring at the many castles and beacons below. The Enderknights flew with the Ardoni, staring at the multicolored abodes of the Overworld and comparing them to the dark void of the End.

"Shall we bank lower?" a knight asked. "To get closer to these buildings?"

Rendore smirked and nodded. "Take a good look at the beauty of this realm."

Ingressus stood at the top of a small cliff, surveying the battlements. Snow fell upon Velgrin. The master smirked. That might complicate the other four clan's advance. Cannons were armed, stone and wooden walls constructed, soldiers trained. It was a magnificent sight, but would it be enough?

Would it be enough to claim the fourth prime, and give his clan unlimited power? Would he finally be able to have his vengeance on the other clans, on the humans, Felinas, and Magnorites who had ignored the call of justice–on Acchillean?

Thalleous panted as the mountain range where Velgrin stood came into view. They had marched for hours on end, and they were finally coming to their prize. They had finally arrived at death's door.

"Ghost Battalion, ready arms! Ghost, Bows!"

"Ready!" came the call of three platoons of archers.

"Ghost, Blades!"

"Poised for attack!" cried six platoons of swordsmen. Other captains gave similar calls.

"Oak Battalion, Bows!"

"Sea Battalion, Blades!"

Sendaria Battalion, Path Battalion–Dozens of units from all four clans prepared for any ambush that might approach them as they scaled an impossibly large mountain.

Author's Note:

Hello, all.

If you have any last-minute suggestions for small tidbits in the story, now is the time to ask.

Nothing else to report. Godspeed,

-KOS