The "Conspirer," Porti, saw orange flames flicker across his pauldrons and chest plate, dispersing the biting chill.
Two miniature suns flickered in the obsidian eyes of the "Priest of Light," Wilshire. His gaze pierced the flames, fixed on the slowly forming pale giant bird.
It was three times the size of a shrike, its wings shifting from pristine white to pale, wreathed in green ghost-fire.
Upon the head above its long beak, pale flames burned within the bone.
A green light flickered, filled with cold, baleful malevolence.
A Shrike Wraith!
Flap!
With a venomous, piercing shriek, its pale wings beat. The psychic flames were extinguished with a hiss.
Wilshire's armor clattered in the wind. The "Priest of Light" leaned back, ready to spread his arms, then stopped.
He opened the vox channel, quickly adjusted it, and contacted Lord Adams of the Fourth Chapter.
"Death Lord, Porti of the Seventh Chapter and I have killed over a hundred shrikes."
"Their deaths have birthed a wraith."
An icy voice came over the channel. "Oliver is reaping the dead at War-Hold Forty-Seven. He will be there immediately."
"Thank you for your gift." Adams's voice was slightly softer, but still cold and hard.
"Praise my Lord!" A devout smile crossed Wilshire's face. He took no offense at Adams's words, as cold as his own form.
"Praise my Lord!"
Wilshire, hearing the devotion in that faint, echoing voice, nodded in satisfaction.
He was ceding the killing of the Shrike Wraith to the Fourth Chapter as an offering to the Black Emperor.
The stronger his Court members became, the better they could serve the Black Emperor.
Wilshire raised his right arm, sweeping his staff. Golden, ethereal flames bloomed in the air.
The "Light of Fire," radiating the vast, encompassing presence of the sun, pure and sacred, extinguished the whispering of wraiths that had been echoing around them.
The Shrike Wraith shrieked, rising rapidly.
It flew away from the bridge, circling the mountain peaks.
The "Pyromaniac" fell back, hurling "Blazing Spears."
A white-hot spear struck a pale wing.
Boom!
With a detonation, a bowl-sized hole was blasted in the pale wing, revealing the green-glowing bone beneath.
The Shrike Wraith shrieked, pulling away from the green wolves' riders.
Its hollow, green-glowing eyes flared with black malevolence.
With a beat of its pale wings, it dove at a silver tower, its terrible beak punching through the ornate silver wall.
Amidst the Avenian's screams, the Shrike Wraith's head lunged.
Its beak, like a knife through butter, pierced light black armor, impaling an Avenian.
Bang, bang, bang...
The Avenian fired a volley. The barrage hammered against the pale wings, sending up ripples of pale light.
The Shrike Wraith shrieked, its razor-sharp wings spinning.
Flesh and blood sprayed. A dozen Avenian were torn apart by their "ally," their limbs scattered.
The Wraith's beak lunged again and again, pinning Avenian to the ground.
Whoosh!
Its movements suddenly halted. It felt a cold gaze fixed upon it.
The Shrike Wraith spun, flying from the tower.
Rumble!
A massive form crashed into the silver tower, pulverizing a dozen Avenian and the collapsing structure.
Roar!
A mighty roar, laced with a cold, fetid wind.
A bone lion, its head and belly bristling with bone spikes, erupted from the rubble. Its gaping maw, lined with jagged teeth, clamped down on the Shrike Wraith's slender, bony tail.
The Shrike Wraith beat its wings, spinning to shake off its attacker.
Oliver, Captain of the 1st Company of the Fourth Chapter, seated firmly on the lion wraith's back, stared into the sky.
His wraith mount, a spirit that had appeared before him on Soniem VIII as he became a "Gatekeeper," was the most powerful of his army of over a hundred dead.
Even as a true "Gatekeeper," Oliver did not believe he had the power to command this powerful wraith.
He knew that four others had been favored by wraiths upon becoming "Gatekeepers":
Death Lord Adams, Captain Keon of the 5th Company, who had been sent on a secret mission by the Black Emperor, and Sasebo Tezuka of the Tenth Chapter.
The "Gatekeeper" fixed his gaze on the Shrike Wraith. His lips, hidden beneath his helmet, moved, forming halting, guttural syllables.
The jarring, grating "Speech of the Dead" echoed in the minds of the Shrike Wraith and the Lion Wraith.
The Lion Wraith roared, its fangs bared with greater ferocity.
The Shrike Wraith's movements grew sluggish, as if pulled by a thousand threads.
Woo!
A silent, spectral wind rose. The already dark, cold surroundings grew deeper.
A bronze gate slowly opened upon Oliver's brow, above his left eye.
Each "Gatekeeper" carried a realm of the dead within their body. Oliver's entrance was at his brow.
Whoosh!
A gale howled from the gate, pulling the Shrike Wraith's body upward.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...
Countless hands, of varying sizes and shapes, reached from the bronze gate.
Some were long and slender, like an Avenian's.
Some were sharp as bird claws, once the wraiths that haunted Soniem VIII.
...
Hands grasped the long, pale beak.
Sharp edges cut their palms. Drops of green, foul pus fell.
Not a single hand released its grip.
The Lion Wraith released its jaws.
From the Shrike Wraith's throat came a piercing shriek.
With a heavy creak, the gate opened wider, and a terrible suction tore at the Shrike Wraith's body.
Whoosh!
The Shrike Wraith was pulled into the silent gate, vanishing without a sound.
The gate closed slowly, plunging into darkness.
Oliver, the "Gatekeeper," having captured a powerful wraith, looked down.
The 1st Company of the Fourth Chapter, their right pauldrons painted with green skulls, poured into the valley.
The "Spirit Mediums" walked among the Avenian dead, raising skeletal warriors and shambling corpses.
The army of the dead swelled, relieving the 2nd and Seventh Chapters' lines.
'The bloodier the war, the stronger we, to whom the Black Emperor grants the power of death, become.'
In orbit above Heliosa, on the bridge of the Shadow's Sovereignty, Nareth leaned back in his command throne.
The Marshall of Ordnance, Gabriel, his mechadendrites hanging low, spoke.
"My Lord, the intelligent machine and Overseer tests have been successful."
...
Nareth nodded, satisfied. This would make dealing with the H'rud, especially enabling the "Conspirer's" advancement to "Reaper," a more certain affair.
"Excellent. Begin mass production. I want them to be field-ready in nine years."
The comm-bead in Arsena's ear buzzed. He spoke.
"My Lord, the Legion has achieved breakthroughs on the Second and Third Continents. Over sixty war-holds have been cleansed."
Nareth rose from his throne, his gaze fixed on the snow-covered southern polar wastes.
"It is time. Order the First Chapter to drop onto the First Continent."
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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