Rise of the Champions

by Nicholas Joslin

  “By the gods…” Seer Mordou mumbled, walking next to his former apprentice.

  “That was … I’ve never seen anything like it,” Valon said, turning around to face his companions.

  The rest of them looked even more surprised than him, trapped in a confusing feeling of newfound power and witnessing such a sight. It was undoubtedly the most notable moment any of them had ever witnessed.

  “I can feel the power,” Garon said, small beams of holy light dancing from his fingertips as he raised his hands before his face.

  “I do too,” Anna added. “I feel warm.”

  “The spells that we’ve just learned are so fascinating. This holy magic is far from what we are used to using,” Seer Mordou said, looking mainly at Valon.

  “I agree,” Valon replied, slowly picking up Hy’ria’s staff from the ground.

  “So, we can really create a portal with that?” Becca asked.

  “Supposedly. But I do not believe now is the time we should use it,” Valon answered, staring at the elegant yet simple staff.

  “Why not?” Goreth asked bluntly.

  “I do not feel it is the time,” Valon answered.

  “Then we must go back to our people. They have certainly reached the corrupted forest by now!” Anna urged, remembering the rest of their clans.

  “I agree. We must not delay,” Garon added.

  “Then let us make haste! With our newfound power, we may be able to defeat this Xerannu and drive the Horrors from our realm!” Seer Mordou ordered, his eye returning to its blue color.

  They quickly made their way from the mausoleum, the glowing torches turning dark as they walked away from them. They wasted no time climbing the large staircase, and as they reached the top, the stairs back down returned to their state of absolute darkness.

  Before they left the building, they all briefly discussed the spells and other things they had been gifted. Valon was surprised that such knowledge and power could be given so freely, especially since the others had only used magic for a few days. Had they been given farsight, they would have likely perished or lost their mind. Something about holy magic was different from their primordial magic, and it seemed exceptionally strong.

  From blessings, to healing, to purifying, to using concentrated holy power, they had all been gifted over a dozen powerful spells. Valon felt more powerful than he could ever comprehend, and the visions of his newly gifted farsight lingered in his mind.

  As they walked back through the ruined elven city, Valon turned to his master. He was surprised his master had been so quiet, especially considering the circumstances. He hadn’t once even asked how the ritual had gone. Finally, Valon couldn’t take the silence any longer.

  “Mas—, Seer Mordou, I wanted to ask you something regarding your transfer of farsight,” Valon began, seeing his former master lost in thought.

  “Yes?” Seer Mordou asked.

  “When it was given to you, did you see your life too? I saw my past, what could be my future, and who knows what else flashing before my eyes. Then there was darkness, such cold darkness,” Valon explained, shivering as he remembered the void.

  “Ah, it was so long ago now, Valon. I do believe I had glimpses of the future, yes. But darkness, I do not remember that. My old master did not tell me about his experience, as his master did not speak of his either. You see, it is a strange thing to come to terms with. I may have small visions, glimpses of the future, but the true power of farsight now lies within you. Part of my connection is severed now, and the power that flowed through me no longer exists in its old form. Forgive my lack of interaction with you, but it’s stranger than I would have thought,” Seer Mordou said.

  “Do not apologize, I should apologize for asking. I didn’t consider that, your point of view and what you’ve given up, I mean. If anything, I should thank you for allowing me to lead our people and become the next Seer. I will not fail you, Master,” Valon replied.

  “I know you will not, for that is why I chose and trained you. My only hope is that your power surpasses my own and you can lead our people to peace and unity. Now, prepare yourself, as all your power will be needed to close this portal,” Seer Mordou smiled.

  Valon only nodded in return, knowing so much of his life still lay before him. Now he would be tasked with leading the Ancient Clan. Now, he would have to utilize farsight and search their realm for threats, disasters, and whatever else would befall them. Now that the time had arrived, Valon no longer felt nervous and unsure of himself. No, Valon felt more confident than ever. As a mix of primordial and holy power flowed through his body, Valon felt more powerful than he could have ever imagined. He was ready for whatever came next, even if it tested every part of his being.

  Chapter 25

  “Incoming! Heads down!” Guard Captain Jarult boomed, hoisting a large shield over his head.

  Chieftain Barod braced for impact of the arrows, holding his own shield over his own head and the torchbearer next to him. He glanced over his shoulder to see a weak Chieftain Wooll barely able to hold his own shield. Looking at the other men near him, it was obvious their morale was broken, and the attack had failed. He hated to give the order but knew that he had to.

  “Retreat! Back to the encampment! Do not break formation!” Chieftain Barod ordered loudly over the fray.

  The warriors repeated the message to their comrades, and their shield formation retreated out of the dark forest. As they did, arrows rained upon them from the afflicted Highrock warriors deeper in the forest.

  Chieftain Barod watched as unprotected torchbearers were struck by arrows, their torches falling onto the living ground and singeing the flesh. As it happened, a tentacle would rise from within the ground and wrap itself around the torch, creating a horrible smell of burning flesh and returning that area to darkness.

  After a long night of barely any sleep, Chieftain Barod and Wooll had decided to assault the Horrors within the forest. They had made it quite a distance before they were attacked; they had successfully repelled these Horrors only to come under attack by arrows from the corrupted warriors of the Highrock Clan.

  Chieftain Barod knew it was the right call to retreat, but was angered to see his warriors begin to break formation and run for their lives. As another wave of arrows came, many warriors were struck and fell onto the fleshy ground. Unprotected by their comrades' shields, the torchbearers tried to unsuccessfully hold their weapons and torches in front of their faces and were slain quickly.

  “Hold formation, you cowards!” Guard Captain Jarult yelled.

  Despite the command, the warriors began to flee even faster back towards the morning light coming from far in the distance. As they sprinted, Horrors flanked from behind the side trees to engage them, picking off fleeing soldiers one by one.

  Chieftain Barod ran as fast as he could, knowing he had left a line of mages in case this exact event happened. If they could reach that line, they would be able to retreat without excess casualties.

  Chaos brewed around him as warriors were dragged away by the quick Horrors or fell as arrows continued to rain on them. Chieftain Barod saw Wooll trying to drag a fallen torchbearer who had been struck by an arrow. As always, his old friend would leave no warrior behind.

  “Let me help you,” Chieftain Barod said, grabbing the other man’s arm while he held his shield over himself.

  “This is a slaughter, Barod,” Chieftain Wooll coughed, trace amounts of blood running down his lower lip.

  “I know! We need to make it back to the mages. They should be just ahead!” Chieftain Barod barked, the stress finally getting to him.

  They continued dragging the groaning man across the fleshy ground, his voice far surpassed by the screams of warriors fighting and dying. Two times Chieftain Barod had to hack away gnarled tentacles that had grabbed the man’s legs, his axe covered in black, tarry blood.

  Then the forest lit up with blue light. They had reached the defensive line of mages who had sent their almost one hun
dred wisplights into the air around the area. Now that it was illuminated and the mages had appeared, the warriors regained some morale and began to regroup.

  As they neared, two mages ran out and took the place of Chieftains Barod and Wooll, quickly healing the man and dragging him back behind their line. Another mage approached them, and this time Chieftain Barod recognized him as the assigned leader of the group.

  “What are your orders, Chieftain?” the mage asked, surprisingly calm.

  “We must retreat to the encampment. We were assaulted by arrows. Do what you can to keep them at bay and we will all fall back together,” Chieftain Barod replied.

  The mage nodded, and the three ran back to the other mages. A torrent of warriors followed behind, some pushing their way through the mages and sprinting towards daylight. Their retreat had fallen into absolute chaos, and it was turning into every man for themselves.

  The majority of the mages combined their magic to create a sort of wall of magic above the retreating warriors. As they did, the arrows slowed significantly as they passed through, harmlessly falling to the ground.

  Chieftain Barod’s head turned back toward the enemy as he heard a sharp scream. He quickly noticed a dead Narsho warrior woman lying dead on the ground, and close to her was a group of warriors encircled by Horrors. In the middle he noticed Guard Captain Jarult barking orders to his group of failing warriors.

  “We need to help them!” Chieftain Barod pointed to the nearby warriors and mages.

  “We cannot maintain such a field of magic and attack at the same time,” the mage said with a frown.

  “Fine. Then keep those arrows off us,” Chieftain Barod ordered as he and a few warriors began to push through the retreating warriors.

  “Don’t leave me behind,” Chieftain Wooll chuckled with a small cough.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Chieftain Barod grumbled, still disappointed at his retreating warriors.

  As they made it through the last of the warriors, almost two dozen Horrors stood between them and Guard Captain Jarult’s group. They were slightly outnumbered, but at least the arrows had stopped striking.

  They charged into the Horrors, their axes and swords cutting into the gnarled flesh of the monsters. The human warriors screamed with both courage and terror, looking into the red eyes of a truly terrible foe.

  Chieftain Barod roared as he struck his battle axe into a Horror, quickly bringing around his shield and bashing the creature on the ground. Before it had a chance to recover, he leapt toward it, hacking his axe into the neck of the creature. It hissed and squirmed, managing to crawl a few feet before succumbing to its injuries as tarry blood seeped out.

  Chieftain Barod made eye contact with Guard Captain Jarult, and the two began to work their groups toward each other. Most of the warriors held their own against the Horrors, able to take at least one or two down before they were bested. However, unlike the Horrors, more warriors weren’t coming to replace those lost.

  Despite their disadvantage, they managed to regroup with the guard captain’s warriors, and they began to retreat through the enemy. As he looked around, Chieftain Barod noticed most of the warriors were wounded. He could only wonder if they would turn like the others did. He noticed Chieftain Wooll had a severely wounded Linta Clan fighter’s arm around his shoulders as he helped walk the man to safety. He smiled, knowing his friend always put others in need before himself.

  A few of the mages not holding the barrier cast spells at the Horrors around them, sending them flying with forceful magic. As they neared the defensive perimeter, Chieftain Barod felt hopeful again. While the battle had been lost, they could at least fall back to the encampment and hope the others had returned with something useful, and they could attack once more. However, an instant later, his hope was permanently crushed.

  A group of lanky looking Horrors shot up from the ground, their bodies bending in disturbing ways. They raised their arms and unleashed a barrage of spikes toward the group, making sure to avoid the visible magic barrier.

  Chieftain Barod raised his shield, stopping any of the spikes from reaching him. He watched as the mages ran forward and sent their own attack flying over the group and hitting the lanky Horrors, but as the chieftain looked back toward the others, he saw something that tore his old heart in two. Kneeling on a fleshy, bloody ground, his oldest friend, held his neck, two knotted spikes from the monsters piercing clean through. His hands clenched around the fatal wound, and his eyes stared into Chieftain Barod’s.

  “No! Wooll!” Chieftain Barod cried, running to his friend.

  “Chieftain! We need to keep moving or we’ll be surrounded!” Guard Captain Jarult yelled as he fought off the encroaching monsters.

  As he knelt before his dying friend, silent tears fell from his face. Chieftain Wooll looked in obvious pain yet had a strange calm about him. He slowly let go of his neck, blood pouring between where gnarled Horror spikes met flesh. Chieftain Wooll looked to his friend, using up all his strength to speak two final words.

  “End me.”

  Chieftain Barod stared at his friend, feeling time almost freeze around them. The shouts and orders around him twisted into a muddled incomprehensible nothing, and for a moment he forgot where he even was. His grip failed and his battleaxe started to slide from his hand, but as Chieftain Wooll’s eyes began to close, he knew what would befall his friend if he did not grant him his dying wish.

  “You are my brother, Herold. I am so sorry,” Chieftain Barod choked out, trying to numb himself for what he had to do next.

  As Chieftain Wooll’s eyelids closed, Barod clenched his teeth and fought against his every pull to stop. With a heavy, mournful swing, Chieftain Barod delivered to his oldest friend, his unrelated brother, his final wish. He cried out as he lost the only real family he had left, quickly turning away from the sight that would break him if he saw it. At least Chieftain Wooll would rest in peace.

  Guard Captain Jarult’s saddened face was close to Barod’s, already dragging his shoulder back. As warriors fell around them and sizzling bolts of magical energy shot past them, Chieftain Barod felt almost lifeless. He followed close behind his guard captain, who still led him by the shoulder. Finally, they made it to the defensive line, which was beginning to falter as more Horrors flanked the sides. The mages had begun to form a horseshoe shape, being pressed together on all fronts except behind them. If they were to be encircled, it would be the end of them all.

  As Guard Captain Jarult yelled to him, Chieftain Barod couldn’t make out the words. Part of him was still too disassociated to comprehend it. All he could think about was Herold Wooll, the great man they had all lost. His mind replayed memories in his head of their time together, decades on decades quickly spiraling through his mind. Then, one memory forced itself into the mental stage of his mind.

  Chieftain Barod recalled when they were barely teenagers, many years after meeting at a festival and many before either would be chosen as chieftains of their respective clans for their various accolades. He remembered the day Wooll had lost his father. It was especially tragic because only a week later, Herold Wooll would go on to win the Forud Tests of Strength, the tournament that first caused the Forud Council to look at him with interest.

  Lying sick in bed, Herold’s father had begged his son to continue and not let his death slow him down. Chieftain Barod had not lost a parent at this time but could see the immense hurt in his friend’s eyes. Herold’s father could see this too, which is why he almost angrily insisted his son take no longer than a minute to mourn his death before returning to his routine. He urged that if Herold truly wanted to make his father proud, he would force himself forward. And that was exactly what Chieftain Wooll had done.

  As the mayhem around him continued and more looked to him for orders, Chieftain Barod knew what he had to do; he had seen the last look on Chieftain Wooll’s face, and knew it was the same as the man’s father before him. Chieftain Barod realized his minute was up, and the world a
round him cleared once more.

  “Retreat! Everyone fall back in formation!” Chieftain Barod boomed, wiping a final tear from his cheek.

  “You heard the chieftain! Tighten up that line!” Guard Captain Jarult yelled, turning and running toward the other end of the mages’ line.

  Slowly and steadily, the remaining warriors and mages fell back and retreated out of the forest. As daylight finally struck them, they realized the encampment was only just behind them. The Horrors surprisingly did not follow them, and the arrows had stopped from the Highrock warriors. They all turned and ran to the encampment, the mages exhausted from using so much sustained magic.

  As Chieftain Barod made it to the gates, he didn’t enter until every possible warrior and mage was safely inside. Guard Captain Jarult protested when it came to the two of them, and Chieftain Barod pushed him through and followed him. As the gates closed behind them, it was as if there was a collective sigh of relief.

  “Chieftain … I am sorry about Wooll,” Guard Captain Jarult frowned, shaking his head. “I should’ve done something.”

  “No, there was nothing you could do. That was a slaughter,” Chieftain Barod replied out of breath.

  “What? Where is Chieftain Wooll?” a nearby Forud warrior asked.

  Guard Captain Jarult looked nervously at his chieftain, not wanting to be the one to break the news. Without their chieftain, Chieftain Barod wondered if they would continue to fight. He wouldn’t force them to stay, as he couldn’t without wasting his own men. He only hoped seeing the threat would force them to stay.

  “He is dead. He fell trying to save others,” Chieftain Barod answered slowly.

  “Dead? Oh, no,” the Forud warrior uttered, quickly turning to his comrades and sharing the news.

  The news of his death spread quickly through camp. Whispers turned to yelling as the camp erupted in a mix of confusion and sorrow. The Forud Clan warriors looked stunned, lost, not knowing who to report to if their chieftain was gone. Chieftain Barod realized he had to step in now.