The Spire

Jarel snuck through the bandit camp, his eyes searching for a weapon. The bandits were nowhere to be found, something that Jarel both thanked the Machine for and cursed it for knowing full well what the men in the camp were doing. Or rather who they were doing.

He pushed that thought aside as he approached a collapsed tent. He saw a glint under a part of the canvas that lay flat on the ground and he reached over, his hand closing around the hilt of a short sword. He eyed the rusty blade with disgust before taking it with him as they continued on his way.

“You enjoyed that didn’t you?” A voice said from up ahead beyond the canvas wall of the main tent.

“I did. But I was rather hoping you would let me take her.”

Jarel could see the shadows of two men through the fabric lit from behind by a torch.

“All in good time. She is yours but let’s just say you can’t take ‘er home yet till payment ‘as been received.”

“I understand.”

“Cos I like you, I’m going to keep ‘er away from the others. Keep ‘er nice and….fresh for you.”

“That’s...awfully decent.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The two men shook hands and Jarel chose that moment to strike. He leapt at the tent wall, slashing through it with his stolen blade. On the other side the two men, one that Jarel recognised as his neighbour Omlin looked over in shock. Jarel’s mother sat on a table not too far away, naked. A sight that filled Jarel with rage. He charged at the two men but before Jarel could reach them, the world shifted for the second time.

The ground under the foot split and crumbled, rising up as something immense pushed out from below. The occupants of the tent threw themselves out of the way as something like a metal tower burst out of the ground, ripping through the tent top as it went.

There was no respite yet as the tower continued to rise out, widening rapidly at the bottom, sending more of the interior of the fort and the tents built upon it flying off.

Jarel saw his mother clinging to a large dislodged block of stonework and picked his way over to her. A bandit flew screaming past him as the base of the spire continued to expand as more and more of it rushed up into the sky.

“Mother!” Jarel yelled.

Marianna looked over at her son, her eyes still dulled by whatever it was that ran through her veins. He leapt from the solid ground he was standing on over to a chunk of masonry and shifted under his feet sliding him a little bit away from his chosen destination. Wasting no time he moved to the next bit of broken ground followed by another.

Stopping was not an option and Jarel definitely didn’t want to see how quickly those once safe bits of ground crumbled away. He made a long leap over to his mother’s piece of ground landing heavily but scrambling over to her side.

“Quick! We have to move!” Jarel yelled, putting his arms around his mother’s shoulders and pulling her along besides him.

“Oh...yea...whatever you say.” Marianna murmured in reply.

The ground around the spire churned and the number of places where one could step safely was rapidly diminishing. Jarel lifted his mother off the ground, one hand under her arm and the other at the crook of her knees and took a step back before with a yell jumping onto a bit of ground.

It immediately began to fall apart and Jarel wobbled on its surface precariously, holding Marianna tight against his chest, the churning earth around them promising nothing but death. There was no place to stand ahead, a wide gap between where they were and the edge of the fort where the ground was still intact.

“Hold on…I’m going to try and make it all the way in one jump.”

Jarel gritted his teeth, took a deep breath and jumped, pushing against the crumbling earth with all his might. He soared through the air for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes focused on his destination. Half way through the jump he realised he wasn’t going to make it. He was going to be just short of the ground and with his mother in his arms there was no way he could catch the ledge.

Jarel threw his mother forward, hoping to the Machine she had the wherewithal to land safely. He then reached out with both hands, stretching to reach the broken stonework at the edge of the vortex of earth, stone and mud.

The breath was knocked from Jarel’s lungs as he collided with the side, his feet skimming through the fast moving material and his fingers scrambling at the broken bricks. He pulled himself up onto what remained of the fort interior, groaning painfully as he heaved himself up on to safe ground. Seeing his mother safely sat not to far away from him Jarel, sighed and lay on his back, catching his breath after his brush with death.

He hoped Halen had gotten to Serepia and Kamelia safely and they had avoided the destruction wrecked by the spire.

He was about the stand up when all the breath suddenly left his body as a heavy boot made contact with his stomach.

“What the fuck ‘ave you done?” Ungonius roared following Jarel who tried to roll away from the enraged bandit leader. “You did this! You ruined everything!”

Jarel scrambled backwards landing on his bottom as Ungonius’s fist caught him in the side of the jaw, sending Jarel sprawling to the ground.

Ungonius grabbed Jarel by the collar and pushed him into the ground, the back of the young man’s head hitting the stonework. Stars swam in Jarel’s vision and Ungonius’s twisted visage blurred and wobbled before.

Ungonius raised Jarel from the ground, preparing to smash his head again but suddenly stopped.

“Urk…” The big aeln gasped, looking down his own body to where the handle of a blade jutted out from his chest. Jarel’s stolen blade was deep within the man’s body causing catastrophic damage to the organs it pierced.

Ungonius let go of Jarel and stumbled backwards, a look of befuddled shock on his face. His eyes fixed on the blade in his chest and his hands rose to lightly touch the handle.

“I...I...no…” Ungonius moaned before collapsing to the ground.