Courage Read Online Free Page B

carved a destructive path, blowing through Drio and towards the Balvadiers.
    Aerigo halted before the fire hurlers and raised a giant fist, and at the same time four of the war machines loosed a fiery volley. The flaming boulders exploded on impact with the energy and Aerigo felt them burn his physical body, making him pause. This newfound power hadn’t made him invincible.
    It pushed against its form, causing it to bubble and deform. This breach killed his mounting fear, and instead he used the pain to fuel his rage. He pulled the power back into the shape he wanted, then turned his attention on the Balvadiers.
    Another volley arced towards Aerigo. He caught a boulder in each fist and squeezed, filling the air with a loud sizzle, as if someone had just splashed oil onto a heated pan. The stone cracked. His corporeal hands seared with the pain of melting and blistering skin, but he didn’t care. He opened his giant fists, loosing the crushed rock on the front ranks.
    The soldiers broke and fled like the cowards they were, trampling one another. The sight brought a smile to his astral face and a need for more destruction. Nearby archer and cavalry units fled and got tangled in the units behind them. Within seconds the whole army began rolling in a unified direction: away from the giant.
    Aerigo bombarded the nearest soldiers with strike after strike, knocking bodies on comrades and the point of spears hundreds of yards away. It was as if Aerigo were punching a scarlet sand dune and each spray was dozens of bodies. The Balvadiers’ cries, death wails, and their blood fueled Aerigo’s destructive hunger all the more.
    His mind’s eye drew his attention to the nearest mountain. Three projectiles, three six-foot arrows were headed straight for him. Two of the massive arrows were knocked off their trajectory by the swirling air and fell out of sight. The third one buried itself deep in the astral giant’s side.
    Aerigo’s corporeal body seared with fresh pain. He clutched at his ribs and the giant mimicked his actions. Even though there was nothing sticking out of his side, no gaping wound, no blood, each breath hurt. Why? Why did it hurt so much? Nothing had hit his actual body. How was this supposed to make sense? As his confusion compounded, his power fought against its maintained shape. Aerigo submitted to his rage, fixed his form, then lashed out at the mountainside. Dirt, trees, and a half a dozen bodies flew out in a spray of debris. He turned back to the fleeing army and began seizing giant fistfuls of soldiers, horses, and war machines. He pelted the cowards with their own army over and over, each blow not seeming like enough. The Balvadiers hadn’t suffered enough, even though he was running out of targets.
    Aerigo began to feel exhausted, but he needed to keep the assault up a little longer so he could kill the rest. They were getting farther away. He thinned and lengthened his arms, his corporeal fingers like claws, and raked and pounded the fleeing army. The ground rumbled a deep, earthy moan with every strike, and patches of wild grass caught fire where his energy touched. He clawed his way after them, but moved too slow. And then he realized it had shrunk quite a bit. The nearest Balvadiers looked the size of rats. Aerigo willed the power to expand, but he couldn’t sustain the distance he wanted as it reached out. He pulled the power closer to him and, furious at his mounting impotence, let out a howl. His howl originated in his corporeal throat, then projected up and out through energy, amplifying like a sound horn. His howl sounded like hundreds of hollow voices crying out. He retreated to Drio, lashing at anything that moved.
    The village was burning. Durians were scrambling to put out fires, but there just wasn’t enough of them. Somewhere among it all was his own burning home, and past that, his dead wife. He lashed out at the nearest home and demolished it with one blow, then began crushing anything