The Cleansing (Book One: The Folara Chronicles)

070: Crevan

The earthquake began with shards of crystal thrusting and stabbing into the air. Screams could be heard in the village, as Quildor hefted Crevan's unconscious form over his shoulder and began to make his way back to what remained of his castle. He paused just long enough to look at the eerie sight of the crystal field alight with agonized wrenching and convolutions. 

The rumble drew nearer. Quildor knew when it hit as he stumbled and fell forward, Crevan's body launched off his shoulders and over the side of a torn down stone wall. He scrambled to see where it had gone. In the distance, the movement of the troops was chaotic. Quildor left Crevan on the ledge and clambered over his self-made destruction as sounds from the rending mountain reached his ears.

He made it to the stable. In seconds he had mounted and was riding out to the troops. A staunch Salimantor shape loomed ahead of him and he yelled. "Identify yourself!"

"Fontayne Quarso." 

Quildor turned distastefully in his saddle. "Where are the Quarso!? Bring them to me at once. I will be above the Aerie on the hillside!"

Fontayne stumbled down toward the village, his huge frame pulsing with energy in the rush of shaking debris. Several village homes collapsed with the onslaught of quaking earth. Quildor kicked his mount into action and drove him further away from falling rubble. Trees were toppling in the upheaval as the quake rolled through the ground. He stared out to sea as a roiling cloud appeared over the horizon.

Etrusia! The direction of the cloud was in the same direction as his beautiful exiled city! Was it possible that something had happened to Etrusia? A huge cascading weight of fear rolled over him as he regarded the destruction, the state of his Quarso, the army encamped above him, the village in ruins below.

He stopped at a campfire above the old Aerie and dismounted as the rumbling around them slowed to a stumbling halt.

"Who are you? Where is Rion Etrusia?" He yelled grasping the first man he saw who cowered and flung a hand up to cover his face.

"I don't know, my Lord." He cried, glancing at his companions for help, but they had all slid to their knees, covering their faces with scrawny arms. Quildor shoved the man back. "Muster the troops. Line them up. We march now!"

Where was his Quarso!?  Where had that Fontayne gone to? Behind him, another horse was rearing and he recognized the dark braid of Tyce, a loyal Quarso. "Find Rion Etrusia!"

"I've been looking for him, Master! But I haven't found him yet! If you plan to march, I suggest you move these men first and allow Rion and Crevan to catch up with us."

"Crevan is dead." Quildor announced brusquely. "Rion should be Captain, but you can take his place. Muster these men! I will meet you at the draw leading to the swamps above the village."

A strangled cry was heard as an angry Salimantor came barreling forth from the trees above them heading straight for Quildor. He drew his sword, staring in confusion as the man/ beast ran for him. It wasn't slowing. He pulled his mount forward, peering intently at the charging Salimantor in wonder. Who in their right mind would charge him in this manner? Was this man insane? 

His horse shied as the Salimantor transformed and Rion Etrusia attacked by leaping the last eight feet onto the back of the horse knocking Quildor off.

*****

Kara woke as Rion pulled away from her in the faint dawn light. Kara pulled her dress around her shoulders, feeling its immediate warmth. Her hair, unbound wisped into her eyes and she pulled it tightly away from her face and tied it into itself. "Where are you going?"