Michael Chatfield
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Four Horsemen Book 5 - Old Histories: Chapter 20
🕑 Added 2025-06-13 11:00:14 +0000 UTCPetor took out seeds from his storage device and threw them towards the walls as he fell, a few hundred meters between him and the bottom of the tower.
The seeds expanded into ever-burning brambles before they hit the walls. Thorns dug into the rough surface as the plants quickly spread and started to create netting between one another.
He threw out gale seed flowers to adher to the walls just as wind gathered around him, slowing his descent.
The ritual circle spread across the interior of the tower, the black rivulets of mana flowed into the ritual circle, empowering it.
They flowed into a raised trigram of three circles. One was filled with the black mana from the prisoners, in the second a man hung from a mast with spiked chains digging into his flesh. Every movement drew new blood from him, the mast and the chains glowing with runes as mana was drained from him into the circle underneath him.
The third had four smaller circles of white, blue, red and green that were weaved together into black.
These three circle's power was directed into another circle at their center, a higher raised platform.
Mya landed first, her sword glowed with power, the wail turning to a scream from the abominations as she slashed through the mast holding who must've been Draden.
The mast splintered where she hit. The mast falling to the ground and the power from the circle fading.
"I've got you Draden!" Mya yelled as her sword cut through his chains, making him moan with pain as their barbs dug into his ruined flesh.
She took out the potions and poured them over him, storing her sword she pulled the barbed chains from his body.
"Come on Draden. Time to get the hell out of here," Mya said.
Valter, Desari and Petor landed around the peripheral of the ritual circle, Petor kept throwing out plants, the gale seeds fired into windows and at the abominations that squeezed themselves out of the interior windows and started charging down towards them.
Desari fired arrows, the abominations falling from the walls to lang on the ever-burning bramble netting that burned them.
Valter unstored his armors, each juggernaut spreading out to cover one of the five double doors that led to the ritual.
"Ok so we've got the outer circle working to gather all the manner from the prisoners and compress it then the interior circles are working to combine more power we've got dradens there valter pointed with his sword at what remained of the mast in the middle of the circle he pointed to the other gathering black power that's the power of the prisoners. Mya, what is that last circle?" he raised his voice.
Petor spotted a dense cluster of abominations, their twisted forms writhing together as they scaled the walls. He channeled his mana, feeling the familiar surge of power course through his arms. With practiced precision, he unleashed an arcane blast that detonated in their midst, sending corrupted limbs and ichor spraying in all directions.
"I don't know!" Mya yelled back.
"Its drawing elemental power," Desari turned, her voice deepening as she drew upon her power.
Petor kept casting spells up into the tower above, targeting the biggest groups of abominations as they started to reach the first of the galeseeds, tearing them apart as they were 'seeded' Their bodies were eaten from within by the plants as they dropped towards the bramble nets that were being torn apart by the corrosive blood of the abominations.
"We're on the top of a ley line—they're draining power from the world itself, then combining it with the power of Draden and the prisoners," Desari fired arrows above. A section of the wall jutted out into razor sharp blades, piercing through abominations.
“This is how the dark gods have held out,” Mya muttered, her voice laced with fury. “Even with a limited number of followers, they’ve been using the planet’s energy to resist the righteous gods. That’s how they’ve survived.”
"Don't want to alarm you but I'm not leeching power from the abominations when they die!" Petor said.
"Whole place is drawing mana away, you're fighting the power of the tower for that power," Valter said. "There you are."
He grunted and stabbed his blade into the ground, the stone turning molten as he cut through a line. "Mya going to need your help! I know how to cut off the power flow from the prisoners, but I don't know the rest of this!"
"Petor! The gem!" Mya yelled, leaving Draden's side.
Petor pulled it out and threw it to her. She caught it, the torch burned apart as it drew in too much power, the metal flanges melting off. Mya place down the planar gem in the middle of the ritual—the power heading upwards dimming.
"We're going to get a lot more power out of this than we were thinking. If we have Petor stand where Draden was, we can get him to stab into the power coming from the gods, draws the power down and into the ritual—creating a loop. Then we change the focal point of the whole formation to just the planar gem. Petor is drawing the power from the gods-then directs it into the ritual and the gem," Mya said.
Desari's arrows howled through the air, threading through the holes in the bramble's net. Each shot multiplied midair, raining destruction on the attackers. The abominations screeched as they fell, some hanging limply in the nets while others thudded to the ground, lifeless.
"Aren't the gods going to cut the connection?" Petor asked.
"This is the power that is sustaining them, every second they can suck it up the better. Also if they cut the power then the abominations will lose power and the cultists too," Mya said.
Draden let out shuddering wet breaths—a background noise to the sounds of the abomination's wails, the galeseed flowers firing their payloads at the abominations skittering down the walls and the everburning bramble spreading across the interior of the tower to block them.
The clouds were roiling above, lighting crackled through them, booms tearing through the sky.
"Kill them!" Someone yelled in the direction of the double doors Petor faced.
Valter's armors readied their weapons and shields.
The doors opened in front of Petor.
He cast arcane blast into the cultists' midst, the purple-tinged energy detonating with devastating force—cutting down half a dozen and throwing the others against the walls.
Their retaliatory spells splashed harmlessly against his armor's shimmering barrier, purple and red energies dissipating like water on hot steel as he shot forward.
His spear moved with deadly precision, ending the wounded and stunned cultists where they lay. Ahead of the door, abominations rushed down the steps toward him, their twisted forms a grotesque parade of tentacles and malformed flesh.
Petor used his spear to devastating effect, the legendary weapon singing through the air with each strike. He cut off the abominations' tentacled limbs with practiced efficiency, dark ichor spraying in wide arcs as the blade severed corrupted flesh.
His spear pierced through their supernatural defenses like they were paper, reaping their lives with methodical brutality. Each thrust found vital points, and each sweep cleared space around him in the cramped corridor.
He stayed beyond the door without advancing. The bodies of the abominations started to congeal together.
"No you fucking don't," Petor threw seeds at the bodies, the roots dug into the flesh and started eating at the abominations, the creature's bodies fought to corrupt them as they ate the bodies. Petor cast an arcane blast, gaining himself time before he threw out seed towards the other doorways that Valter's armor were in.
Lot more mana intensive when I can't leech.
A weight upon him lifted as power started to flow to him.
"Flow cut off from the prisoners!" Valter yelled.
"Okay!" Mya yelled back.
Petor heard the two of them working on the ritual—his focus on the doorway as cultists shot spells at him from the top of the stairs. Petor shifted his position, their spells hitting the abominations from behind. The creature didn't seem to notice—so focused on Petor.
Petor settled into position, his spear becoming an extension of his will. The abominations charged in waves, their twisted forms providing perfect cover against the cultists' spells firing from behind. Each thrust of his spear found vital points, while keeping the creatures bottlenecked in the doorway.
He shifted his stance, letting an abomination's tentacle sweep past before driving his spear through its mass of eyes. The creature's death throes blocked two bolts of dark energy from the cultists. Another monster lunged forward. Petor kicked it to the side into the path of more incoming spells.
The floor grew slick with ichor, but Petor's footwork remained precise. He kept the creatures dancing to his rhythm, their bodies forming an ever-shifting wall between him and the spell-casters. When they tried to rush him en masse, he'd fall back just enough to maintain the bottleneck, never giving them room to spread out and overwhelm him.
His spear wove patterns of death, each movement calculated to position the next creature exactly where he needed it. The cultists grew frustrated, their spells consistently finding only the backs of their own abominations. Some tried to push forward for clearer shots, but that only fed more targets into Petor's killing zone.
Petor unleashed arcane blasts on the stairs when he could, killing cultists and opening up a pocket of space and relief for himself.
Got to use mana sparingly.
The last of the tar like mana in the channels running down the walls entered the ritual.
The pillar flickered, turning into a twisting kaleidoscope of white, blue, red and green. Cultists yelled out, used to the darkness of the prison.
"We're just drawing from the ley lines now," Valter said.
Blood and ichor sprayed in predictable arcs as Petor maintained his deadly dance, using minimal movement to achieve maximum effect. The creatures' remains piled higher, further restricting the space and making his job easier. He kept his breathing steady, conserving energy while letting the momentum of each kill flow into the next.
"I'm done here," Valter yelled.
"Okay, I'm still working, switch out with Petor!"
"Petor, coming to you!" Valter said.
Petor shifted to the side, still fighting the abominations that were creating a pile at the doorway, the plants were fighting a war to keep the bodies from reforming together.
Valter slammed into an abominations next to Petor, turning it into flying ichor, his blade cut through two other creatures, their bodies turning in on themselves as they burned.
Petor cast another arcane blast.
"Watch out, if you go further in than this then the cultists can get you from the floor above," Petor yelled.
"Got it," Valter said.
Petor killed another abomination and turned, he pressed on the ground, a step taking him ten meters, as he shot towards the ritual circle.
"You ready Mya?" Petor asked, gathering himself mentally as he pulled out a canteen of health potion and started chugging it.
Petor sprinted across the ritual circle, his boots splashing through puddles of dark ichor. The pillar of elemental energy twisted before him, raw power from the ley lines warping the air with its intensity. His spear hummed in his grip, resonating with the maelstrom as he approached.
"Ready! Lets fuck up some gods!" Mya yelled.
Petor tossed the canteen away, his body feeling drained from the plants. He breathed in deeply and plunged his weapon into the writhing energies. Power surged through the spear and into his body, setting every nerve ending ablaze. His muscles spasmed as divine energy ripped through him, threatening to tear him apart from the inside.
He directed portions of the overwhelming force to knit his damaged tissues back together even as the rest continued to ravage him. It was like trying to drink from a waterfall - for every injury he healed, the torrent of power created two more.
Nearby, Mya's worked on the ritual circle in the center infront of Petor—carving precise runes into the stone. Her enchanted blade left glowing marks in its wake as she modified the patterns.
Sweat beaded on her brow as she worked, racing against time.
Any fucking minute now. Got to hold out. Petor closed his eyes to stop his thoughts from overrunning him, he focused on his breath.
A humming noised made him crack an eye open.
"This should do it!" Mya slashed the ritual circle.
That looks like you're trying to break it with me in the middle!
The runes blazed to life, geometric patterns igniting across the floor in waves of brilliant light. The planar gem pulsed at the center, drawing in the convergence of energies without sign of slowing down.
The cycles of power stopped tearing through Petor as he drew on the power from the connection to the gods it was also torn from him by the circle that Draden had been stuck within.
The elemental power of the ley line descended, pulling a stream of black power. Petor gritted his teeth, a madness rising in him as he consumed that black power and tore away more.
"I taste divinity," He hacked out what could only hungrily be called a laugh.
Mana of the world, of the gods flowed through the ritual and into the planar gem.
Petor took but a tithe of the divine power flowing through him and spread it to his plants, feeling the raw energy surge through his connection to the deadly flora.
The effects were immediate and devastating - the crystal-fall willows above their heads bristled with newfound strength, their razor leaves glinting with an otherworldly sheen.
The hellfire thistles and everburning brambles choking the doorways where cultists and their twisted abominations tried to force entry blazed brighter, their thorns elongating into wicked barbs that dripped with caustic sap.
The deaths of the creatures and the cultists fueled him.
He was the nexus of power, it flowed through him terrible and delicious.
The clouds above parted as light bathed the tower, in its radiance.
The power was kind, calm it was friendly.
It feel like gossamer rain, spreading throughout the prison, through its windows.
The moans of the prisoners turned into pleased groans, then roars. Metal was broken and torn. An alcove gate slammed into the wall of the tower's interior and through it.
The golden power touched the stone, turning it to dust.
Abominations screamed out in pain and rushed back into the tower as the golden light burned them.
The sounds of fighting spread out through the tower, the abominations shrieking in pain.
Her presence carried none of the consuming hunger of the dark gods, instead radiating a gentle strength that seemed to fill the very air.
"Ella?" Mya's voice cracked with recognition.
Petor kept his grip steady on his spear as the divine figure smiled and drifted down to where Draden lay. A hand formed, holding his cheek as she bent and kissed his forehead - his eyes cleared of centuries of torment as he looked up at her a smile that cracked Petor's heart rose on his face.
"My love," Draden breathed.
Ella's form dissolved back into pure light that enveloped Draden.
The wounds across his body were washed away.
The golden power dissipated as if it never existed, the fighting continuing all around them.
Petor continued to pull, to consume and devour, he used all of his instincts to drag in more power. These gods didn't deserve to survive.
Draden rose from the ground.
Mya threw him a hat and tossed him a ring.
Draden caught the hat with a flourish, placing it atop his golden blond hair, holding out his hand, the ring nestling on his finger.
"Well Mya, I appreciate the prison break," Draden said, grinning broadly. "Was just taking my twenty minutes." He looked around and nodded to Petor. "Seems that you got some new help?"
"Friends of mine," Mya said—dstracted as she pulled out her rifle and fired at abominations above as fast as she could crank the lever on her rifle.
Draden pinched his hat in salute to Petor.
He grimaced Guess I know where she picked that up from. He kept focusing on the power that was burning its way through his body.
A pistol appeared in his hands as he raised his head, his hat turned worm-holed and mothballed, his face that of a man well dead. Soul fire burned in his eyes as he fired, the round turning into several that struck abominations, causing them to explode.
Draden breathed in deeply, savoring the acrid smell of gunpowder. "Ah! That wakes one up from their slumber, doesn't it?"
Petor's body trembled as he channeled an overwhelming torrent of power through his connection to the dark gods. The divine energy burned through his veins like liquid fire, threatening to consume him. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to maintain control as he redirected the flow into the ritual circle.
Not as bad as when we had to do that day and a half march and then train throughout the night.
Through pain-blurred vision, he watched Draden spring into action. The legendary captain moved with fluid grace, dual pistols barking in a deadly rhythm. Each shot found its mark with supernatural accuracy, turning abominations into sprays of ichor and dropping cultists where they stood.
Mya matched his pace perfectly, the two veterans fighting back-to-back as if they'd never been separated. Their coordinated fire cut through the chaos, rounds threaded between Valter's armored forms to strike targets within the doorways and fell the beasts that resumed climbing from above.
"Fine prison break, indeed," Draden called out, his reloading motion smooth as silk despite the centuries of imprisonment. His eyes gleamed with deadly focus as he assessed their tactical situation.
"So how are we getting out of here?" he asked, barely breaking stride as he put down another pair of rushing abominations.
"My power!"
Cultists started screaming in pain, their bodies convulsing as divine energy was ripped from their flesh. Abominations died enmasse, their twisted forms crumbling like dried clay, their god's power no longer able to sustain their corrupted animation. The halls echoed with their death throes, a cacophony of inhuman shrieks that made Petor wince.
"What on Irdun?" Draden cursed as the black pillar of power descended from the increasingly chaotic clouds above. The natural order reasserted itself as the binding magic dissolved.
The power dropped in and through Petor.
Essence flowed through Petor, the blue in his core expanded till there was no more blue left within his core.
He staggered forward, spent—mentally and physically even though he was in great shape. He dropped to a knee, holding his spear upright.
"We're not getting out, we're taking it with us!" Mya shouted. "Desari, ready those spells."
"Ready!" Desari said.
Mya ran over to the center of the ritual jumping for the raised platform.
"Petor?"
"I'm fine—or will be, do it."
"Hold on! Valter's shout ran through the prison.
Petor braced himself as Mya raised the planar gem. The prison shuddered, stone groaning under immense magical strain. Colors swirled and merged around them - darkness and light colliding in dizzying patterns as reality itself began to warp.
His stomach lurched as the entire structure shifted, like being caught in the heart of a whirlpool. The walls vibrated with such intensity that chips of stone broke free, falling upward instead of down. The air grew thick and heavy, pressing against his skin as if he were deep underwater.
The prison's stone groaned in protest as it cracked. His vision blurred and doubled, showing both their current location and somewhere else simultaneously, through the walls of prison and reality.
Osola?
Colors slammed together into that familiar darkness before light exploded outward. The prison rematerialized and they were dropping. Petor stored his spear and spread out.
The prison crashed into the ground once more—rattling Petor's bones.
Petor rose from the ground, the other horsemen and Valter's armors doing the same. The planar gem hummed with power in Mya's hands, she threw it towards Desari who stored it.
"Well we should put my captors to use," Draden said. Motes of soulfire spread from his hands like seeds upon the breeze they spread throughout the tower.
"Get to the top of the tower!" Mya yelled. "Desari get us out of here!"
