Champion Revised: A Songs of War Novel

Chapter 10

Sarrettus exhaled heavily, his hair stained with blood. He slashed at a cannoneer, cutting its stomach. The Netheran yelped in pain. Sarrettus picked it up by his neck, his arms flexing as he grabbed the soldier.

"Where are your cannoneers?!" He screamed at it, panting.

The Netheran simply continued yelling in agony, blood pouring out of his wound. Sarrettus knew that this Netheran would divulge nothing. He slit his jugular and dropped its body to the ground. He noticed a dagger on the Netheran's body, and took it in his hands. It had intricate curves and markings beneath the layers of bile and blood. He stuffed the weapon in his belt and moved on, stepping through the battle.

"Cease cannon fire!" He heard a gravelly voice yell. He saw the general of the Nether Armies, Pythus. Seeing his back was open, he raised his sword and moved to strike.

Acchilean clung to his dragon, seeing the headquarters of the Sendaria Militia. He had been here once before, as a patrol squadron sergeant for an inter-clan meeting, but he had never seen it like this. It was normally magnificent, Deepslate and stone mixing to form a tough and formidable fortress. Now, though, it was on fire, chunks of it were missing, and it was surrounded by blood and soldiers. The trees that normally protected it were glowing in the fortress' fire.

"Down there!" he yelled. "We'll have to manage a vertical!"

Rendore steeled himself. "We're no stranger to landing complications in battle, Tidesinger."

There was that title again. Acchilean shook his head, and descended towards the ground. He readied his aggrobeam song as he lost altitude.

"Come on, now..." he whispered in his dragon's ear. "Just a bit more–"

The dragon touched down. Acchilean instantly leapt off the mount, shooting a beam of red light at a Netheran. He avoided Voltaris in his strikes, but the Enderknights did not follow his lead: they struck with precision and ruthlessness, wasting no time in their fight. Their dragons breathed purple fire, destroying many foes at once.

This was what brutality looked like.

Sarrettus' strike was narrowly blocked by the Prince of Hell, who rounded on him and instantly pushed him back. His axe momentarily coursed with fire, and Sarrettus' broadsword parried a blow of flame. Pythus paused for but a moment as his flames died down.

Sarrettus simply charged in his hatred at the warlord. This monster was responsible for pain like his. He cried out in primeval anger, slamming Pythus' weapon to the side with his sword. He went for a chop to the neck, his sword was inches from connecting...

Then, the forest shook. A dragon landed beside him, coating Pythus' men in flame. The warlord dodged to the side, aiming for a cut at the dragon's legs. The beast flapped its wings and dodged the attack, and Pythus turned to face the soldier who had just landed.

The dragon's rider got off, and blasted some Netherans with an Aggrobeam. A Nestoris, he turned to face the warlord.

"Prince of the Nether!" He yelled. "Away with you and your ilk!"

Pythus sneered. He threw his axe on its chain. Acchilean dodged the attack and fired an Aggrobeam at the prince. Pythus drew back his weapon.

"Turn away!" The Nestoris demanded as his dragon landed beside him. The beast of the end fired a beam of purple fire. Pythus turned away and dodged the attack.

"All hands, away from the castle!" The prince yelled. His troops repeated his command. The walord rolled under the dragon and back into the main fray.

The cannons would soon fire.