Michael Chatfield
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Four Horsemen Book 5 - Old Histories: Chapter 23
🕑 Added 2025-06-20 11:00:07 +0000 UTCNight was a darkening promise in the sky as Petor walked through the warehouse district nearest the docks.
"You know where Valter is?" Petor asked a passing Mardun—everyone was heading up the hill and towards the temple for the ceremony.
"Valter? Never heard of the name," The man raised his eyebrow.
"Large fella, hard to miss, in armor, black hair and beard?" Petor asked.
"Oh, the one that's working at the forge?" The man snapped his fingers.
"That would probably be him, yes," Petor nodded.
"Go down there on the right. He's been working in there ever since he set up his forge though you can't hear a thing," the man gestured down the street.
"Thanks," Petor said.
"Not a problem! Thank you Horseman!"
Petor walked in the direction the man had pointed out.
Valter was set up beside a warehouse that had been hit with cannon fire. His sets of armor were all around him in the forge. Each of them were working on a different piece of gear hammering their own extensions into shape. Some of them were half disassembled, with torn up dimantium pieces of armor filling the spaces in their bodies as they upgraded their own bodies.
Valter himself was working on a breastplate.
Petor let out a high-pitched whistle to let Valter know he was there.
He glanced up from his work and opened his mouth, tryin to say something.
"One second." Petor picked up his pace and walked into the forge itself, hearing all the sounds of production. "There, can hear you now. You could hear me fine?"
"Hear everything from the outside but none of the noise from inside," Valter said. "What brings you this way, you getting some sleep?"
"Ceremony going on up at the temple, wanted to see if you and Desari wanted to come, you seen her?"
"She's in the warehouse, strung up a hammock between some racks and went to sleep I think. What ceremony you talking about?" Valter raised an eyebrow in question as he stepped away from his work.
"They're going release the souls of the Mardun, allowing them to rest finally," Peter said.
"Oh. Okay." Valter looked around the forge. Valter's sets of armor still working away. "I can leave this lot working on everything. Most of this stuff is actually grunt work of trimming up the different plates to make them fit better and later Deserai and myself can go over the enchantments. Want me to take a look at your armor?"
"Please, could you give me a hand, getting out is tricky. Some of the ties are in hard to reach places," Petor said.
"Sure thing." Valter moved to help the two of them working together to get Petor free of his gear. Valter marked the armor in several spots. "I can work this to fit better and move those ties around so they're not such a pain to reach."
"Alright well I'll go see about waking Desari up," Petor said.
Valter grunted, noting down information on a piece of paper he'd produced and using a pieced of chalk to mark the armor.
Petor walked into the warehouse itself, sections had been burned out but most of the stone structure was still solid.
Desari had her hammock strung up between two of the racks.
Petor felt a ripple of mana at the bare edge of his senses as he approached.
She cracked an eye—completely alert.
"Still laying traps and alarms everywhere?" Peter asked.
"Still unable to sense them?" Desari raised an eyebrow as she looked around, peering up at the crack in the warehouse wall. "What time is it?" She asked through a yawn-stretch.
"It's near late afternoon now. Probably closer to night. They're doing a ceremony up at the temple in front of the warehouse."
"Sure, give me a minute and I'll meet you out front of the warehouse."
"All right." Peter turned on his heel and headed out of the warehouse. Valter joined him with Desari coming a few minutes later as they started the trek up the hill with the rest of the island's residents.
***
People were gathered before the temple's broken edifice, burn and spell marks marred it. The place seemed to be held up by the plants that weaved through its structure.
Petor watched as Ella stood before the gathered crowd, the last rays of light shimmering and reflecting through her body formed of water.
The assembled Mardun traders, their families, and allies filled the space before the temple, their faces illuminated by the setting sun.
"The Mardun's dedication never wavered," Ella's voice carried across the crowd, clear as a bell. "Through storms and battles, through death itself, you protected not just lives, but souls."
Her gaze swept over the assembly, lingering on Draden who stood tall despite his years of torment. "My husband learned forbidden arts, becoming something others feared, all to save his crew from a fate worse than death. Others followed." She gestured to Tilla and Davos and Mya off to the side, their skeletal forms stark against the crowd, soulfire burning in their hollow eyes.
"You created soul chests, safeguarding the souls of the fallen from dark gods who would consume them. Then you did something that none of the gods or the people of Irdun thought you would do. You believed—believed and devoted yourself to creating a new celestial realm." Her voice softened with emotion. "You believed in a realm that judged people not on where they died or which territory they were in. You made it based on the fact of being judged by your actions."
Ella paused, searching for words. "You honored me and believed in me. You devoted and believed so damn much you turned me into a goddess—ain't that something!"
The Mardun chuckled as she shook her head wryly, waiting for silence to roll back in.
"You have lost so much—but today, finally our dead may rest and our soul chests may be emptied. Your duty has been completed."
Petor felt the air grow thick with power as Ella raised her hands. Motes of soulfire emerged from the earth around the temple, each one taking the form of a person - laughing, smiling, waving. They rose by the thousands, filling the air with their gentle light.
"This is not goodbye," Ella's voice rang out as her watery form dissolved into pure soulfire—rising with the others. "This is until the tides bring us back together again."
The souls coalesced into ghostly doomcutter ships, their spectral crews waving farewell as they sailed toward the darkening horizon. Petor watched them fade from sight.
The last glimmers of day passed into night with the setting of the sun.
There were tears, and wet eyes, but there was also laughter and hope that burned brighter and stronger than before.
Petor looked at his fellow horsemen, the trio moving away from the temple and back down the hill.
