Book 5 - Chapter 56 - There You Are (1/2)

From the outset of conflict to now, only half an hour had passed.

In that time the wasteland vanguard had produced incredible results. Not only had they accomplished what they’d set out to do, their attack had also punched a hole in Sanctuary’s formidable defenses. What’s more, with just a small crew Cloudhawk had cut his way to the heart of the fortress, a fact which has served to greatly demoralize the enemy.

They’d already surpassed all expectations.

The area Hammont was responsible for defending was blessedly distant from where Cloudhawk had appeared. He’d dodged the proverbial bullet. In fact, his soldiers had yet to even encounter the enemy. Up to now they’d only watched first-hand as Cloudhawk summoned a meteor from some devil plane to devastate their stronghold.

Wastelanders of truly impressive capabilities used the meteor as their point of ingress. Indifferent to the threat of death, they launched a fierce attack on Skycloud’s elite, including a whole Corps of demonhunters. Instead of being crushed beneath the heels of these noble warriors, the wastelanders actually managed to occupy the high ground.

Archbishop Zoren Leclair was slain in the process. Knight-Commander Oren Cloude was steadily losing ground.

Countless twisted freaks rampaged across the battlefield, under command from a demonic madman. They ripped through Elysian defenders for freedom, for survival, in defiance. What sort of battle was this? In the thousand years since the Great War, the Elysians had never been faced with such a threat.

Before the fight, Elysians came expecting to participate as a joke. Wastelanders didn’t have the power to threaten their realm, it was laughable to think they did. From manpower to equipment, from elite soldiers to training, the wastelanders were simply no comparison. Skycloud was and would always be superior.

How was it that powers in the Northern Barrens got so strong? Frankly it was only because of Elysian traitors who taught them to be strong. One of the illustrious Master Demonhunter, Sterling Cloude – abandoned his people and became the Crimson One. When he defected he brought with him a hundred demonhunters. It took years of toil to build his legacy from the darkness. In the end the wasteland alliance was the fruit of that labor. However, if this so-called wasteland alliance had no Elysians backing it would be nothing at all. It would be nothing but an obnoxious afterthought, if there were naught but the piddling wasteland leaders to command them.

What was happening now, though, was different. This was a living nightmare. These men and women – who had grown up in a peaceful utopia – were just now witnessing the horrors of war first hand.

“Who the hell is that demon?!”

“How do monsters like this even exist!”

“Gods above! These fiends deserve to burn for eternity in hell!”

New recruits trembled in their boots. All they could do was curse and spit to try and expel the fear from their hearts.

Cloudhawk was a recognizable name in Skycloud, though few knew the precise events of six years ago. He was now once again at the forefront of their lives, seemingly from nowhere and looking entirely different. Ninety-nine percent of the soldiers had no idea who he was. The incredible display of power added an extra layer of mystery to him as well.

If someone were to call Cloudhawk a demon, not a soul would refute it. The only thing they had trouble believing was the scope of his strength. It was nothing short of astounding.

In fact, astounding was just the beginning. To most it was downright horrifying, or worse. To them it seemed he could crush Skycloud with a flick of his wrist, if he so pleased. After all, they’d watched a mountain get dropped on their fortress from a couple thousand meters overhead.

What if he’d chosen to drop it from ten thousand meters? The destruction he’d have brought would be ten times worse! It was common knowledge that the greater the height, the harder the fall.

If he reached great enough heights, he could probably summon whole planets to rain down on them. Hundreds of thousands would die… this was not the sort of power an ordinary person could begin to comprehend. Why wouldn’t they be scared?

Whispers of fear and uncertainty rippled through the new recruits.

Meanwhile Hammont watched it all in silence. With his right hand he had his sheathed sword caught in a white-knuckle grip. He darted his eyes one way and then another in open disbelief. How did it come to this?

This was the same Cloudhawk that had saved the lives of thousands of soldiers in the Blisterpeaks. The man who had risked life and limb to battle Majhima and save the innocents of Skylcloud from destruction. They sent him to the Northern Barrens, where he successfully foiled the dark plots of the wasteland alliance. How had the kind but oft misunderstood Cloudhawk turned into this man?

More and more, Hammont Seacret realized he understood so little of the world and its people.

From the perspective of an Elysian, Cloudhawk’s sins were heinous and unforgivable. He was a demon whose foul deeds undermined the holy and just world they’d built. However, to wastelanders he was the only man in their sordid history capable of leading them to victory over the zealous Elyaians. A hero who rose against the tyranny of Skycloud and had the power to change their fate.

What one was right? What one was wrong? Were was the border between righteousness and evil? Who defined the standard? Who ultimately determined the code?

Hammont had spent these last months at the beck and call of his Governor. In that time his station had risen steadily. He’d widened his knowledge and deepened his wisdom. Yet far from being enlightened, the more he learned the more puzzled Hammont became. Perhaps there was no such thing as universal justice in this world of theirs. It was a construct built by humans which they used to deceive themselves and others. A tool for constraint and collectivism.

As he wrestled with these truths dark clouds roiled in from above.

From the time they appeared on the horizon they roiled like a slow-moving tide, and yet arrived very quickly. Darkness hung over the stronghold as though caught within a tempest that threatened the whole Elysian land. As the light fled, Skycloud’s warriors looked upon the scene with solemn stoicism.

Without question, this marked the arrival of the wasteland’s main force.

The first to arrive were clouds of bloodthirsty mutant beasts numbering in the tens of thousands. At such a scope it was more than just a wave of monsters, but a flood. They appeared from many angles; burrowing up from the ground, tearing across the plains, diving from the air. Hundreds of varieties, representing most of the wasteland’s wild inhabitants.

Interspersed among them were beastriders. It was common to see wastelanders travel astride creatures of the earth and sky. Their semi-feral mounts were also equipped with armors and weapons, and moved with the same agility and ferocity of the monsters around them.

The wasteland’s humanoid army came aboard a hundred airships of various sizes. Each one was unique from another, bristling with weapons that were sometimes haphazardly affixed to their surface. They bore machine guns, missiles and other standard ordinance. However more high-tech weapons were also visible, such as lasers and energy weapons.

At the rear of the fleet were three hulking mother ships, leaders of the air and land battle groups. Each one was a highly sophisticated vehicle which drew heavily on the secrets of a bygone age. The incredible destructive power they wielded made the battle groups more than formidable. The darkness that descended on Sanctuary was a threat to this shining, holy jewel.

At last, the enemy was revealed.