Chương 51: Vol 1. The Church of Kaelreth’s Ascension: Part 4

Averin twisted the hooded figure's arm, deliberately slowly at first, then, with a motion—SNAP! The hooded figure snarled and caterwauled, and while distracted by the pain, Averin grabbed them by the neck. She ran forward before slamming them against a column. Another hooded figure came at her; Averin batted the sword aside, then threw a left hook. Crimson blood flew through the air as their head snapped to the side, and with a stagger in their backward step, they fell to their rump.

The hooded figures' formation had been completely broken. As Ceryne looked on, she said, disconcerted:"How is that bitch so strong? She looks older than the queen was."

"I do not know!" Talus said. Ceryne bared her fangs at Talus in an annoyed expression.

"That was a rhetorical question." Kareth shouted: "Tavira! Velran! With Averin!" And so the group of Reformers got back into formation. Averin ran towards the two hooded figures who had held Selira down. One backed away; the other snarled, positioning their feet and putting their sword out in front of them. As Averin approached, they slashed. The blade stopped, vibrating slightly. Blood trickled down its shining metal.

Averin had caught the blade in one paw, and as she groaned through the pain, she punched the hooded figure in the face, causing them to drop their sword. And while they were staggered, Averin ran up, grabbed them by the head and neck, and twisted. The hooded figure's head now looked like an owl. They dropped limply onto the stone. Averin grabbed the blade and started to swing and parry and circle another of the hooded figures. Talus looked at Averin. Her movements…

they were not the movements of someone calm in the mind. Big swings. Forward momentum. Ignoring her ranks. She was apoplectic, and that left her vulnerable. Talus called out: "Stop meeting her blade!" The hooded figures looked back at her, then nodded. After slipping by the other Reformers' guards, they surrounded Averin. One circled around her, keeping Averin's eyes darting. Another kept her blade occupied. One sliced at the back of her knee, causing her leg to wobble and eventually give out.

Another hooked her arm with a sword. Averin struggled, trying to push through it, and eventually did, throwing one attacker near the pews and the two others into each other, but the slice on the back of her knee and her age had finally taken a toll on her body. She was limping now. And as she tried to attack once more, she could not find the energy. The pain in her leg was too great, and like Goliath, she fell to her knees, only a few paces away from Selira's mangled corpse. Her chest heaved heavily.

Instinctually, she reached one paw towards Selira, but could not find the strength to keep the limb lifted. Two of the hooded figures held her down, and another came by swiftly, a sword raised. Kareth tried to run over to her, but Tavira grabbed her by the paw. Kareth looked at Tavira. She didn't say anything, but the message in her visage was clear: you won't make it in time; don't endanger yourself.

With a quick motion, Averin's head was lopped off clean, the solemn face rolling across the stone floor before coming to a stop near the pews. Velran looked around. Selira's corpse lay near the altar rail. Averin was dead among the pews. Kareth was breathing heavily, blood soaking her fur near an open wound around her eye. Tavira was exhausted. The doors had been blocked. The remaining hooded figures were spread out in formation again. Velran said, "We have to leave."

Kareth looked at the Sword of Kaelreth, still being held by Talus, now standing behind the altar with Ceryne.

"Sister Kareth," Velran said. No answer.

"Sister Kareth, look at me." Kareth did. Pain, fury, solemnity—it was all present in her gaze.

"We are not leaving without it," she said evenly. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Who cares about the fucking sword?" Velran said. Kareth's tail went rigid.

"I care more about my life than some possible forgery—" Kareth swung. Her blade sliced through her neck, her head dropping and bouncing across the floor like a rock skipping across water. The body stood upright for a moment, then it fell without grace. Kareth spat on the decapitated body.

"You traitor." Tavira grabbed Kareth.

"Kareth, what did you just do?"

"She betrayed Seroth," Kareth asserted.

"It had—""We are leaving."

"I will not."

"Yes, you will."

"Tavira—""Everyone is dead. They have won; we are done."

"We must—" Tavira shoved Kareth aside. A sword plunged through her weakened and battered armour and deep into her torso. She gasped, staggering back. Kareth caught her before she hit the floor. In Kareth's mind, everything went muffled again. Tavira peered up at Kareth, and for a moment, the two locked eyes. Kareth pulled her in closer.

"Woah, easy…" Tavira wheezed.

"Still trying to crack my ribs…" The two sat in silence for a moment. One of the hooded figures attempted to use this moment to kill Kareth, but Ceryne told them to halt.

"I… hope Seroth will reunite us soon," Tavira said with an ear flick. Cough. Cough… Cough… And her eyes went lifeless.

"Well, wasn't that nice?" Ceryne said.

"Grab her." The hooded figures grabbed her as commanded, then they pulled out some rope and tied her against the altar.

"Alright," Ceryne commanded, "grab anything that looks like it could be of value, and pile the wood." Kareth watched the place get raided clean as blocks of wood for the hearth upstairs were piled around her, along with the wooden pews, choir stalls, doors, screens, furniture, altar covers, vestments, banners, and anything else flammable spread out.

"Well," Talus said, buttoning up her tunic.

"That was fun."

"I would have to agree," Ceryne said.

"I am usually not someone whose vocabulary includes the word 'fun'."

"You think we could get away with this in the Veyrath Cathedral?" Talus asked.

"Once I win the Coniton, that place will be filthier than even the lowliest bordello, mark my words."

"You heathens," Kareth muttered.

"What was that?" Ceryne said, approaching Kareth.

"You both are heathens; you are scum before the gods. You treat their church with such little reverence." Ceryne cocked her head.

"You are one of those cultists who do not like the church, are you not?"

"We are not cultists, we are Reformers!"

"Same thing, really," Ceryne snorted. She bent down and moved one claw along Kareth's cheek.

"You are just doing the same thing I am doing, really, only you are fighting for the wrong things. I am fighting for the liberty of those oppressed under the church's false guidance. You do not wish to extinguish the church's false guidance; chances are, you just want to perpetuate it." Ceryne stood up.

"The wealthy and those you call heathens shall rise above all else. This land will be run by those who know there is only one moral metric that binds us all and allows us to succeed: gluttony. Gluttony for more money, gluttony for more sex, for more lovers, for more land, for a bigger army, for more and more and bigger and bigger." Ceryne turned around.

"It is too bad, though. You were really handsome. You could have joined us to work under my boot. Oh well." She made a hand gesture, and she and Talus began to leave. But before she did, she turned around again and said, "Oh, and I am bored with this." Talus showed Kareth the sword. They tossed it irreverently onto the ground. Then Ceryne stepped on it with her boot a couple of times. Crack! Crack! Crack! The jewels flew off. Then she picked it up, unsheathed it, and started to bend it.

The ancient and brittle metal snapped in half instantaneously. Ceryne dropped the pieces, then turned around again and left. Kareth tried her hardest to bury her head into her chest. Her face was hollow now. One of the hooded figures threw a lit torch onto the wood. As it caught, the fire slowly came to Kareth. She screamed in pain as dancing flames engulfed her. Smoke and heat rose to the ceiling, allowing the fire to spread upwards until it caught on the timber. The timbers cracked loudly. Then they fell.

The roof started to collapse. From the outside, the hooded figures and servants loaded the precious materials onto the carts. The cathedral burned in the distance, its flames glittering in Ceryne's rings, and as it did, she felt a great sense of jubilation. She would win the Coniton, and this fucking horrid church would be no more.