The Last Black Eye of Antigo Vale

5

"Noooooo!" His scream seemed to turn inside out as Nimuk faded away. Once again, he was Antigo.

Bersham swayed gently in her rocking chair. "That did not take as long as I'd suspected. You were gone only an hour."

"I failed, Bersham. I saw no way to defeat them."

"But you must defeat them... the prophecy!"

"What prophecy? That I should have some kind of strength derived from my ancestor?"

"Yes! Mind, body, and spirit: the powers of will, strength, and heart."

"I don't see how anything but superhuman strength could help, and Shanda possesses that."

"You must tell the village what you know, rally them just as Antigo did in the days of Bethshador." Staff in hand, Bersham pushed her door open.

Antigo saw a twinkle of hope in her eyes—that same spark in her soul that saw over three hundred years ago through eyes of Nimuk. "I will try, for the oath my family swore."

Stepping outside, they saw the burning buildings and heard echoes of explosions. Flashes burst like fireworks nearby. Antigo rushed towards the smoke, leaving the old woman to catch up, as she was able.

Down the street, smoke poured out of buildings in the village square. Women and children ran back and forth with buckets; the men fought against the traitorous daughter of their ancient hero.

Single-handedly Shanda held off the town's finest warriors. Standing atop her cart near the burning buildings, she easily embarrassed any warrior brave enough to rush her. Those who had tried lay dead upon the ground. Between conflicts, she shot explosives from a modified mortar tube used to launch yesterday's fireworks.

Amid the smoke and chaos, Antigo and Shanda's eyes met. She grinned in reply and leapt through the smoke behind her, slipping away.

Antigo ran to join the other villagers. Catching movement in the corner of his eye, he whirled to see his sister slink silently out a nearby door, tucking an antique tome under her arm.

"Shanda!"

As if it was a game, she turned and smiled. "Goodbye, brother." Shanda sprinted away from the house. Master Jervis's cottage detonated with alchemical flame, masking her escape.

Almost blinded, Antigo continued towards the village square. He found Flick working one of the fire lines. Seeing their need, Flick helped carry buckets with the women and children.

Bersham finally arrived and quickly set to mending wounds of the injured. She set the warriors' bones and salved burns. The blackened stain of chemical fires tarnished everything.

As the infernos finally came under control, Antigo walked over to the gathered warriors. Barely any remained unscathed.

Franco leaned against Shanda's broken wagon; the horses lay dead in their yoke. Clearly in charge, he chugged the last of a canteen and tossed it to Antigo. "Go fill that for me," he ordered.

Antigo ignored him and threw the empty container aside. "Men, I'm familiar with this threat. I've faced it before; my knowledge is critical."

Franco arched his eyebrows and mocked. "You've faced this threat before?" Moving his hand to hilt he asked more seriously, "Have defected to the Trade League?"

"The Trade League? Are you insane? They could never unleash power like this! And when have they ever used aggression against us?"

"Insane? What do you even know about Antigan politics? I've rarely seen you away from your nursemaid's side," Franco mocked. "You have no idea how badly the outside world needs our goods, the healing power of illiac petals."