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(Book 1) Chapter 11 - Unchaining the Sky

The cell was crammed full of as many soldiers as it would fit, all of them stripped of their armor and weapons. What was once a cold, musty space had grown quite warm and uncomfortable due to the massive amount of body heat present. Needless to say, dissent had begun to occur among the ranks, as the hours passed.

Since the creatures departed hours ago, they’d been offered no food or water—as most prisoners often were. Many of them were fighting the urge to direct their apparent misery toward each other. “So this is what we get for trusting an Aerthican Captain?” one of them finally let forth. “Doomed t’ die, packed together tighter than a bunch of pickled fish in a tin?”

After a few seconds of murmuring throughout the cell, another solider raised his voice. “Give it a rest, Monty! The captain’s nationality had nothing to do with us getting thrown in here,” another soldier called back.

“The man’s a typical Aerthican! Brash, rude, and unprepared! I’m telling you, Captain Agarwal would’ve done away with that witch the moment he saw what was in the ballroom!” Monty declared.

“Private, Captain Agarwal was in his nineties and barely able to carry a sword when I took over the guard,” Carter protested. “You honestly think he’d be able to deal with the Witch of the Gosh-Darn Iron Chains better than I did?”

“He knew how to deal with magic,” the private continued. “Meanwhile, all you Aerthicans seem to know how to do is charge in with a sword poised right in front of you, no matter the occasion.”

“Private Monty, if you keep bashing my homeland, I’m going to see to it that you expire from blunt-force trauma instead of starvation,” Wesley warned. “Aerthica is gone. Carter and I swore our loyalty to Prithvi, so drop it.”

The cell grew silent.

“If you can think of a way to deal with the queen’s magic, then you can talk again. If you can’t and open your yap once more, then I’ll see you meet the blunt end of Private Spencer’s fake foot,” Wesley warned as he relinquished a false foot from a nearby leg.

“Oy, boss, be careful you don’t break that thing! I doubt I’d ever have money to replace it,” Private Spencer lamented.

“We’re in here for life, you dunce! Do you really think you’re going to need one wooden foot in the first place?” one of the other privates interjected. “It’s not as if the queen’s going to let us out into the yard for exercise!”

Their argument was cut short by a rattling at the cell door. All of them became quite as the soft racket became more and more apparent. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Maybe I should take care of this?” a male voice said on the other side of the door.

“It’s my lock pick! I’ll be the one to use it!” a familiar female voice replied.

“Yes, but I have opposable thumbs. You don’t,” the other voice commented.

“Noted, but I’m almost done,” the female voice countered.

There were a few seconds of silence before the hardwood door’s lock clicked and its handle turned. As the door came open the sight of Lola and her friends stood lit by faint torch fire. All four of them looked no worse for wear, aside from Venice who appeared slightly paler than he had previously. The dog appeared to be carrying something in her mouth. “You boys all right?” she asked.

The tangled mass of soldiers quickly began to clamor toward the cell’s exit. “Hey! Not so loud!” Aurora warned. “We don’t want to wake the queen!”

Lola scowled up at her for the outburst. Aurora realized her error and clamped her hands over her mouth in reaction.

“We don’t want them waking the queen, in hopes that you don’t do it first,” Rook scolded.

“Sorry. I’m a little excitable,” Aurora murmured in remorse.

Carter struggled to the front of the tangled crowd. He appeared a great deal skinnier without his armor. “How did you kids get out?” he asked.

“A little help from an old friend,” Lola said, her speech slightly impeded by the lock pick in her mouth.

“We need your help getting the locks undone,” Venice explained. “I mean, with Lola’s lock pick, we can get them unlocked, but we need someone skilled in combat, just in case the queen wakes up.”

“I’d be happy to oblige if I had a clue how to deal with her magic or those creepy Fiends of hers,” Carter responded.

Wesley struggled free from the mass of soldiers still in the opened cell, two young privates struggling free behind him. “He’s right. It’s not as if our skills would be of any use if our swords leave no mark on those monsters.”

“We won’t need swords, sir,” Private Monty said. “I’ve got an idea!”

The private grabbed a nearby rock and began scratching a diagram on the wall across from the cell’s door. “According to the elemental tables of the earthen elements: fire, water, earth, wood, and metal—not to be confused with the tables of the skyward elements of light and darkness, or the intermediate element of air—the metal element present in the witch’s magic should be counteracted by fire!”

A full diagram, reminiscent of something from a long educational tome was now present on the wall. “Monty, where on Lumea did you come up with something like that? No offense intended, but you’re pretty much the dimmest soldier in the entire guard,” Carter questioned.

The other soldiers present all murmured in agreement with Carter’s statement.

“It’s from Amah’s Memorandum,” Monty responded. “I’ve been reading it lately to impress a lass I’ve been seeing in town.”

“Suddenly, I really wish you’d let me read your copy,” Lola commented to Venice.

“Yes, the hindsight’s painfully vibrant right now,” the carpenter agreed.

“Wait, if that’s true, then how come Pyrepies are weak against hemlock wood?” Wesley questioned. “The diagram says wood’s counteracted by fire.”

“Hemlock wood is poisonous. Plants that contain poison align themselves with water rather than wood, as well as the skyward element of darkness, due to the dark and seeping nature of poison itself,” Venice explained. “Grandmother taught me that when I was child. Can we move onto more important things?”

“Right, I suppose we’ll dig up some torches and other things from the armory,” Carter said.

“I think we still have some of those gunpowder-loaded crossbows,” Wesley added. “Would those count as fire?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Carter said, heading down the hall. “Men, follow me quietly to the armory. Remember that we can’t afford to wake that witch.”

###


The large group crept their way silently out of the dungeon and back into the castle’s armory, all thanks to the lock pick Lola had been given. From the barracks’ storeroom, they procured numerous wooden torches, lighting them with a crude mixture of sulfur and lime to ensure they’d be even more difficult to extinguish. The soldiers bothered not with armor, knowing it would only serve to impede their movements and cause much unwanted racket as they moved throughout the castle.

Before they ascended the stairway to the upper level of the palace, Carter had insisted on arming Venice and Aurora. Without warning, he had shoved weapons into each of their free hands.

“What gave you the idea I knew how to use a sword?” the lutenist asked as she struggled to hold up the weapon with one hand, while her other clutched a burning torch.

“Never hurts to start learnin’, kiddo,” the captain responded. “‘D’Fiamma, be careful where you point that.”

Carter moved his hand to gently point Venice’s weapon away from himself. “That crossbow’s loaded with a gunpowder capsule from the old mines of Deiqao. I’d like to keep my face intact at least until we free the sky.”

“If it’s so dangerous, then why did you give it to me?” Venice asked.

“Because the girl looks like she can handle a sword better than you,” the captain replied.

The carpenter rolled his eyes as Carter turned to the deposed soldiers who were busy preparing their armaments. “All right, boys, let’s get a move on here! Wesley and I will stay with the center of our group.”

“Private Monty, your half of the troop will lead us up. Private Spencer, you’ll lead the half guarding our tail end,” the captain directed. “Keep the dog and friends safe at all costs. This ends tonight. Move out!”

The soldiers all gave Carter a solemn nod in response before picking up their weapons and falling into line. Lola clenched the silver needle tightly in her jaws as they led her and her friends back up the stairs. The entire castle had fallen to a foreboding silence in the late hours of the night, as the darkness outside grew thicker. Many of the hallways seemed somewhat darker, despite the castle’s gas lamps burning as brightly as they had previously—the darkness beyond the palace walls was likely at its strongest.

The former Royal Guard guided them slowly through the halls they’d previously traversed in the past day, taking care to not make a sound. Oddly enough, not a single Iron Fiend was present in the corridors as they made their way to the old ballroom … yet Carter and his men led them through with the utmost caution nonetheless.

Their trek was dull and drawn out, given the overly timid approach Carter’s troop had taken to guiding them. A great deal of time had passed when they finally happened upon the double doors of the old, abandoned ballroom. The lock that had kept it sealed was back in its rightful place, although it had retained its dull, iron coloring from before. Reanja had likely neglected to replace the enchantment which had previously protected the lock from being picked.

Standing on her hind legs to reach the padlock, Lola undid it with ease, allowing them passage back into the ballroom. The sun, moon, and stars remained chained to the ceiling, almost begging to be freed. “Well, be quick about it,” Wesley pressured. “That usurping witch could wake up at any moment.”

The Buhund could see the unease on the soldier’s faces as large number of them stood guard at the ballroom’s entryway. She made her way to the enormous lock nearest the entrance, near the edge of the garden below the imprisoned celestial bodies. Venice, Aurora, and Rook remained close in tow with Carter and Wesley not far behind them. The contraption was the size of a small child, and bound to the floor by an obsidian column. It was comprised of a crimson metal unlike any she had seen before in her life, and accented with occasional strips of gold—a shackle of the same metal held the tangle of chains from the ceiling above in place. The lock’s keyhole appeared to be made for a normal-sized key, despite the lock’s grotesque size.

“Look at the size of that thing,” Venice commented. “The pin mechanism inside must be incredibly complex to need that much housing.”

“Are you even certain that your pick will work on a lock like this one?” Rook asked.

Lola shifted the position of the lock-pick in her mouth. “We’ll never know unless I try.” She reached up on her hind legs to bring herself face-to-face with the device’s keyhole.

With some struggle, she managed to insert the pick into the opening. She moved her head back and forth, as she attempted to get a feel for the levers inside. After a few moments of poking around, the tip of the pick tripped the levers and the massive padlock’s shackle gave way.

The set of chains the lock had held noisily came unfastened, echoing the tingling racket of metal falling to the ballroom floor around it throughout the ballroom. Many of the soldiers present jumped in surprise at the blaring cacophony, as Lola fell back from the device in shell shock from the clamor. “I didn’t realize it would be so noisy,” she said, still somewhat stunned.

Everyone present was visibly unnerved by what had just occurred. “I just hope it didn’t wake Reanja,” Carter remarked.

Numerous Iron Fiends unraveled out of thin air a mere few seconds after the captain made that comment.

“You miserable, misbegotten blackgards,” Reanja’s voice shrieked loudly across the ballroom.

In a flurry of chains and smoke, the witch materialized behind them in the room – dressed in a heavy nightdress and her usual shawl. The young earl had materialized next to her, likely brought to the ballroom by the same spell. Reanja’s face carried ferocity so deep that it forced several veins to the surface of her forehead. Her crystalline blue eyes burned with a fickler of cold-blooded flames. “I see it was a mistake to let any of you live,” she announced angrily. “I’ll be certain to make executions more widely used with the next batch of prisoners. Right after I correct my error.”

As several of the Iron Fiends closed in on them, Carter drew his sword and began bathing its blade in the flames of the torch. The weapon’s steel turned a glowing shade of orange. “I’ve got your correction right here, your Majesty,” the captain proclaimed as he lunged at a nearby Fiend.

He drove the red-hot blade into the metal monster’s head—splitting the clustering of chain-weave in twain, but stopping at the creature’s chest. The Fiend’s attention suddenly turned away from its appointed task as it scrambled in a panicked attempt to repair its visage. The chain-links in its weave, however, had been completely cut in half. “Whaddya know? Monty was right!” he announced. “Turn your torches on ’em, boys!”

The witch fumed deeper. “Damage them all you like! So long as two links in their chains remain intact and I’m still breathing they’ll never be destroyed,” she taunted.

Venice quickly aimed his crossbow at the queen. “Then breathe no more!” he exclaimed as he pulled the trigger.

“Don’t hurt my mommy, you peasant!” the young earl cried, as he dove toward the carpenter.

The plump child grabbed hold of Venice’s arm, obstructing his aim and causing the fired gunpowder arrow to fly past Reanja by a hair. It collided with the body of an Iron Fiend immediately behind her, bursting upon impact. A shower of broken and flaming chain links rained down upon the ballroom. “Lola, run!” Venice commanded. “Get to the locks while she’s preoccupied!”

The Buhund nodded, and took off in a dash for the lock on the far end of the ballroom at incredible speed. As Reanja cleared the soot from her eyes she turned her glance to the dog, her scowl deepening.

The witch took off after Lola, almost flying as she moved. “I will not be defied!”

Lola scrambled as she forced the silver pick inside the lock. Her eyes shifted to see the witch closing in. As she flew several gunpowder arrows flew past her, missing her entirely but illuminating her menacing figure with the resulting flames. The dog drove the pick deeper into the lock in a panic, putting forth a hurried effort to undo the mechanism.

Within a few seconds the lever inside clicked, and the lock’s shackle gave way as another network of chains fell noisily to the ballroom floor around her. The celestial bodies imprisoned above appeared to be tugging the remaining chain set as they instinctively began drifting upward, unable to break completely free. “You mongrel!” Reanja screeched furiously. “How dare you? How dare you?”

In her approach, the witch brought forth tendrils of chains from the floor. Each of the rising tendrils began breaking off large pieces of the stone flooring and hurling them toward the young Buhund. Lola dashed out of the way, hiding behind the broken lock’s pillar. “The worthless peasants of this planet are doomed to darkness they’ve merely earned! They refused the rule I would bring them decades ago. They do not deserve the light! Do you understand?” the queen exclaimed as she continued throwing volleys of stone forth. “When the nothingness closes in and finally consumes Prithvi, it will be the punishment the fools and bumpkins of this wretched scrap of land have done well to earn. None of you, none of you deserve to live in the light, none of you deserve even the smallest bit of happiness! The only thing any of you deserve is to kiss my ring and suffer like the rubbish you were born as!”

Lola dove out from behind the broken lock’s pillar. “I’m sorry, but I can’t change the way I see the world,” the dog replied. “In the two years I’ve lived, all I’ve seen outside this castle is good-natured people and animals struggling and suffering. It’s way past due for a change! So excuse me, but I’ll stand up and fight for ‘what I don’t deserve’.”

Reanja echoed a furious scream as she tore an enormous fragment from the floor with her magic and threw it at Lola. “No man on Lumea can stop me. None, do you hear?” the witch shrieked.

The Buhund jumped out of the way of the stone volley’s trajectory. “I’m not a man, I’m a Buhund!” she answered firmly.

Lola took off running for the other side of the room as the witch continued launching pieces of the ballroom floor at her. The constant barrage of stone forced her to dash from side to side as she ran. “You will not win, Spitzen!” Reanja exclaimed.

Two red-hot swords sliced through the chain clusters the witch had brought through the floor. Aurora and Wesley stood before her, swords and torches in their hands. “You will not harm her!” the lutenist exclaimed.

“You’ve lost, witch!” Wesley said proudly.

Lola closed in on the third lock, her nails screeching loudly as she stopped on her heels in front of it. She lurched up on her hind legs and began trying to pick the lock.

The vein on Reanja’s forehead pulsed at the sight. “Stand out of my way,” the witch proclaimed.

The floor shattered and rose beneath the soldier and the lutenist, throwing one into the center of the garden and the other against the ballroom wall. As the dust cleared, it became clear that the squirming network of chains the witch had brought forth from the floor had grown immensely in size. Shrieking, she flew off in the direction of the third lock, the slithering chains tearing up the floor as they followed her.

“You belligerent little brat!” the witch said, her blonde hair frizzling in pure rage as she continued shrieking. “I will have satisfaction! This foolishness will end!”

Lola continued busying herself with the lock as Reanja approached. “I have two words for you, your Majesty,” the dog said, her words slightly muffled by her jaws being clenched around the lock pick. “GET. STUFFED.”

The witch grinded her teeth in searing, white-hot rage at the dog’s comment. “Shut up!” she screeched furiously.

Her slithering chains began throwing chunks of the floor toward the Buhund rapidly and indiscriminately. Lola turned to dash away from the onslaught of flying stone, the lock pick still in her mouth. Before she could flee, however, a large piece of stone drove right into her and threw her against the wall behind the lock with its momentum. Rubble from the wall showered down upon where she had landed, concealing her from sight. “No!” Aurora cried from across the garden.

Venice dashed across the ballroom, crying out in turmoil, “Lola!”

The soldiers turned away from their battle in shock at what had just happened.

Reanja grinned maliciously as the group clamored at what she had just done, feeling deep pride and relief. “And so it ends.”

The witch turned to face the entirety of the ballroom. “You dullards thought you could win?” she mocked.

As she gloated, the shackle on the third lock came undone in a loud click. Reanja turned and dove for the chains as they fell loose, lacking the necessary swiftness to reach them before it was too late. Their binds gone, the celestial bodies drifted up toward the ceiling. The stars unclustered and shot through the stone roof, filling it with countless holes. In a silvery flash the moon followed, raining down dust and stone as it widened the gap in the overhead and fastened itself back into the sky above alongside the replaced stars. Finally, the sun gave out a bright golden flare as it rose from the ballroom and flew back into the heavens in a fiery trail. As it touched the sky above, a wave of light swept over the whole Prithvi in an instant, spreading over the all of Lumea shortly thereafter.

The sky had turned bright and blue, populated by a few small clouds as the sun’s light shone down upon the planet. It was daytime. For the first time in a decade and a half, it was daytime.

“No! No! This can’t be!” Reanja lamented.

Beams of light from the sun intensified as they streamed into the ceiling-less ballroom. The luminescence condensed and solidified into several forms. As the glow spread, six figures stood at its center, facing the witch.

Two children of tan complexion and white hair, dressed in indigo and violet respectively; a man with silver skin, dressed in black robes etched with a night sky blue pattern; a male warrior with skin colored like seafoam and a long mustache, dressed in white garb and sword in hand; and an older man with tan skin, a long beard, a ridiculously long nose, and a spear in his hand. In the center of all of them was a young woman with golden skin, dressed in a shining white silk robe trimmed with gold and wrapped in a red sash.

“Amah? No. No!” the witch protested.

The High Spirit of the Sun stepped forward toward the Witch of the Iron Chains, a fierce determination upon her face. She opened her mouth to speak. “And so it ends.”

Next Chapter: (Book 1) Chapter 12 - Lola’s First Day