The Sworn Defender

by The Ranger

  The sorcerer was kneeling on the floor raggedly, his hand pressed to his wounds, accompanied by a ghastly gold shine that was ripped apart by crimson streaks from within. It shared a familiar energy — Eilon's energy — but this was not the Divine Light Richard had come to be comforted by. It was a corruption of that soothing magic and the same thing that twisted the mortal spirit into the Soul Seekers. He could see its dark mark etched into the wizard's skin— the same symbol that Solton's sorcerer had sported on his forearm. It was accompanied by another marking, one he assumed was his enemy's Blessing of Fire. Yet, they were both stained by shadow.

  By the time he rose to his feet and regained his composure, Lucan had already healed his injuries. There was no sign that the King had ever been here— nothing more than dust and ash lingered in the air now.

  "Damn you, Lacerne," the wizard muttered, his magic fading. "Why did you-"

  "You killed him!" Richard glared, slowly trudging forward. "Your own brother!"

  "I… I— he should have left me alone!" the mage replied, rocking slightly as he stood up. "I was prepared to leave it all behind me, to accept my fate. But no… not my brother, not Marinia, none of you could simply leave me be!"

  "How could we leave a monster unbothered?" the young man spat, rage seething from his tongue. "We could never!"

  He charged ahead, and a wisp of black fire burst forward from Lucan's hand, but Richard deflected it with a bout of his own flames. The sorcerer backed away from an attack, watching the fiery blade in his opponent's hands, and his expression contorted when he did.

  "You wield that blade in a manner that it hasn't seen in two generations," he mused. "My father's body was unable to harbor magic power, and his first son declined that same gift… that steel has lied cold for too long. There is almost… some satisfaction in seeing it alive now. Nonetheless, I will still have to take it from you."

  "You hold no right to this blade!" Richard returned, striding forward. "You hold right to nothing!"

  "I know that," the sorcerer hissed. "I know!"

  A Seeker materialized at Lucan's left, and the mage snatched its sword. The darkness was blasted away from its surface, replaced with a raging red glow, as he met his opponent in the center of the throne room. Their blades clashed, causing sparks to fly between them as metal and bone cried against each other.

  "That stench… you smell like a spriggan… did you happen upon one?" Lucan groaned, attempting to overpower his younger foe. "They're… a rare thing now… so few left in this world…"

  He grunted as the mage continued to press his attack, but he stood steadfast. He had not noticed how tall the sorcerer was until he loomed over him. The older man's unnatural physical strength had not been something he expected either, as Lucan's form seemed thin and frail— he realized Divine Light's power was augmenting his might.

  "Ugh-" Richard groaned, struggling to hold his feet in place.

  He remembered something from his youth, then, as Lucan worked to break his stance. Something Eren had done to him once when they sparred, just before he could corner him.

  The young man met Lucan's eyes and followed Eren's defiant example. He cocked his head and spat into the sorcerer's eyes, forcing the man to recoil in surprise. The mage's sword was drawn away, and Richard took the opportunity to slice his own blade towards the man's head. He narrowly avoided the strike, though; it swiped past his ear harmlessly as he doubled over and wiped his eyes.

  A strained breath passed Richard's lips as he pulled his arm back and advanced towards the reeling sorcerer. He slammed his blade downwards, but a Seeker materialized between them, just long enough for it to catch the blow and be sent away once more.

  "Most loyal things… I've ever known," Lucan grumbled as another Soul Seeker helped steady him. "Now— run him down!"

  White light danced in his palm and shot forward, joining the swirling dust to create new skeletal monstrosities. They ganged up around Richard, and he sidestepped along the walls to avoid their dark reach. Lucan stepped away from the clash and instead observed the foul mass roiling and reaching for their prey.

  "Wicked—" Richard groaned, slicing at one and then another. "—Things!"

  There was no pause behind their empty eyes as they poured over each other like a river of writhing snakes, chasing and churning after him across the throne room. All he could do was slice at a few of them when they came too close, but he quickly devised a new solution.

  He created a gap of a few feet between them and thrust his foot against the wall, kicking off it and into the air. He twisted his body and whipped a spiral of flame towards the throng of monsters. The initial attack destroyed most of them, and the second wave of fire seared those that lingered behind. He stumbled as he landed, crashing into a wall less gracefully than he had anticipated.

  "Artful," Lucan murmured while the young man caught his breath. "Fine. I will treat you as if you are an equal."

  The sorcerer waved his blood-colored blade, and the Soul Seekers that still remained fell to smoke, bursting towards the weapon. The sword absorbed their essence and cracked through the floor where Lucan shoved it. It was just the two of them now.

  Black flame circled the mage's hand, and it grew more prominent in every passing second. It took on the shape of a four-pronged star, and he whipped it forward. It spun as it cut through the air— its points stretching and warping to extend its reach. However, Richard lifted his fiery sword and cut the projectile down the middle, forcing its halves to fly off to either side of him. They seared through wood and stone, leaving gaping holes as they continued to cut through the castle.

  Surprise disguised as annoyance materialized on Lucan's face, and he began to form a second star. He raised his other hand and chuckled when he created a counterpart. They were smaller now but tore forward at nearly twice the speed their predecessor had. Richard scowled as they approached him and forced himself onto the ground in order to avoid their bite. They passed overhead and melted through a pillar, causing it to groan as it crashed forward. He rolled out of the way and turned in time to see a lancing flame fly towards him. He raised his sword to cut it, as he had done with the stars, but he failed to move fast enough to do so. Richard caught it with the flat of his blade, and the fire splashed across it— singing his face and breastplate. He groaned as the heat began to die and turned his attention back to the wizard.

  "You're quite fast," the man noted. "I have just such a technique for someone like you."

  Nine spears of black flame formed in front of him— they were nearly as large as Khora's weapon and flickered wildly. Lucan clenched his fist, and the spears began to shrink— condensing and folding on themselves until they were as small as needles.

  "This was once named, 'Flight of the Red Sparrows,' by my master," Lucan recounted. "Yet, I suppose 'red' no longer fits quite as well as it did before."

  He opened his fist once again, and the nine needles jolted forward, each one bursting in a different direction. They whistled as they burned through the air, moving just fast enough that the average eye would be unable to follow them. Richard, however, had no such issue.

  He slashed at one after another, breaking them apart before they had a chance of reaching his flesh. It was not until he had dispelled nearly half of them that they all twisted to attack him at once.

  Bright steel caught one near his cheek, but in doing so, allowed another to pierce his leg and a third to slice across his belly. The two remaining projectiles flew for his eyes, but he raised his arm to catch them there instead. His skin was on fire, something that Lucan, seemingly, did not expect his foe to simply shrug off. It was not the last of Richard's surprises.

  He sent a bolt of fire charging forward towards the aged wizard, who raised a hand to quickly absorb it. That did not discourage his young adversary, though, who sent a second and a third in quick succession— both were dissipated by the more experienced sorcerer.

  "You'll need a more refined magic to overpower me, young man," Lucan
called out as the embers of Richard's previous attack faded. "What you have now is strong, yes, but crude. Raw. Uros would have had fun with you. However, I am not. You need to show me something greater."

  "So it seems," he whispered, his blade growing bright enough that its body was no longer visible.

  The mage's eyes widened as he pulled his sword upwards, only to quickly let it crash forward— releasing all the magic wrapped around the steel. It shot forward in a wave of bright flame large enough to engulf a legion of Seekers, and it roared with enough ferocity to frighten any that might bear witness. Lucan managed to raise his hands in time to catch the attack, but it was too vast for him to simply consume as he had the previous three. Instead, he was forced to redirect and disrupt its path, sending it crashing into the old stones above his head. The sorcerer almost allowed himself a breath of relief, but the mass of flame had obscured his sight; he did not see Richard's boot until it slammed against his chest.

  The wizard fell backward, sliding across the smooth floor and crashing into the steps that laid before the throne. His enemy raced across the chamber and lunged forward, aiming to pierce Lucan's chest. The older man raised his hand, and his abandoned blade swiftly flew back towards him. It hovered between them and slashed through the air to block his foe's strike— as if it were being wielded by a phantom.

  "A poor trick, but it serves me well," Lucan groaned, watching his sword battle on his behalf. "I did not come here to seek war, but I am not unprepared."

  He reached for the sword and pulled it from the air, seamlessly rejoining the battle against Richard.

  "Don't speak to me so casually!" the young man growled, flames from his blade crashing against his adversary. "This isn't some sparring match or a practice bout! After everything you've done, everyone who's died! Your time has come to an end, you despicable, disgraced prince!"

  Lucan's expression shifted and fell cold. He held his blade still as Richard swung his own towards it, and it cracked into dozens of pieces when the two met. There was a slight sense of satisfaction in his mind— until the dark shards spun on the ground, smoking and growing to form a giant Soul Seeker.

  "Let us see if the Colossar gives you a chance to speak so freely," the mage muttered, stepping back to let his puppet fight.

  The monstrosity lumbered forward, and Richard twisted around to meet it. It was the largest one he had faced thus far, its steps cracked across the stones, and he worried the floor would collapse beneath its weight.

  However, those thoughts receded when the abomination formed a massive warhammer between its hands and swung it towards his head. Even with Tala's gift of healing, he feared what would happen if that weapon managed to find him. He backed away from the Seeker, just far enough that its wild strikes were barely out of reach, and he flicked burst after burst of flames towards it. They spattered across the Colossar's ribs tenderly but had no visible effect on the dark creation. Richard continued to back away, creating more powerful flames to throw at his foe, when the back of his heel clattered against the stairs that led up to the throne. He was distracted for a moment, allowing the Seeker to trudge closer and slam his warhammer forward. Richard caught the strike with his sword, but the force behind the swing sent Levi's blade out of his hand and across the room. He braced himself as a second swing raced forward and collided with his torso.

  Air left his lungs, and pain bit into his chest as he flew upwards and off the ground, splintering through the throne and leaving it in pieces. He tumbled over the broken marble and errant stones until he finally settled against the wall. Every inch of Richard's body ached with each movement, and he could feel his own bones stir loosely in his chest. He could feel fire strangle his heart with every breath he took.

  With what resolve he could muster, he forced his body to sit up and steady himself. The damage the Seeker had sown throughout his body was extensive, but he could already sense it beginning to mend itself. There was little time to appreciate that fact, though, as the Colossar approached with its hammer raised. It looked poised to swing once more and possibly end Richard's defiance— yet it did not. It stopped abruptly, as if frozen by an unseen hand, and its master marched forward to stand between them.

  "I see much of your father in you, young man. I knew him for many years before he became my warden, and I had a great deal of respect for him. He was dragged into this squabble just as you have been," Lucan murmured, his voice growing soft as he spoke. "I have no plans to ransack this place or to claim it in my name. My brother started this conflict by seeking me out and by forcing me to defend myself. I wanted only my peace and my freedom. I want only… I have no desire to kill you, Richard. Tell me that you will lay down your sword, and this battle will be over."

  There was a calmness in the sorcerer's words— enough so that he believed them to be sincere. The pain that sparked across his body called out to him; it yearned for him to give in, to accept the mage's proposal and let it be over. However, there was another voice, one that remained resolute. He must persist.

  "My br… Lacerne… that did not need to happen," the wizard whispered. "I… my— He forced my hand when he attacked me. But… what he did will matter little, as I'm sure his failings will go unnoticed. No matter: Know that I will leave Azra behind peacefully. My nephew will not need to hold fear in my name. This kingdom is his, as it was always meant to be."

  Richard turned his gaze to meet the mage's eyes.

  "Lucian," he whispered to himself, a renewed vigor coursing through his bones.

  His mind drifted towards the thought of the future Azra might have had if this disaster had never sprung from the earth. If Lacerne and Lucan had not quarreled like they did and set the kingdom ablaze between them both. It no longer mattered which of them had been righteous or whether or not Lucan had spoken truthfully. He killed the King, and his minions killed countless others. His nephew gave his life in service of his home— in a quest to defeat him once and for all. There was no redemption from that, no grace that could still be found among the ashes. There was only the last mission that Prince Lucian had bestowed upon his friend. His last request.

  "I-I…" Richard mumbled, clenching his fists. "I… do not yield!"

  His voice was hollow and filled with pain, but his words echoed around the chamber stubbornly. The mage almost seemed pained by the young man's reply, but he made no effort to convince him.

  "You really are his son," the man sighed, stepping aside to let the Colossar forward.

  The monster raised its giant warhammer, and Richard closed his eyes as he gathered his focus. He could feel his body renewing itself and his strength pooling together for one more burst of power. At that moment, he found it: the late Queen Ursula's final gift to him.

  The castle shivered and shuddered, and the stone beneath their feet quaked, knocking the Colossar off balance and forcing Lucan to lean against a pillar. Richard turned to look towards the great stained-glass windows that adorned either side of the throne room and watched them shatter as gigantic vines shot through them. They had been born from the Queen's abandoned garden tore apart the walls when they entered the fray, quickly finding the monster that had nearly killed their master. The green tendrils wrapped around the Colossar and began to pull it apart— forcing its dark form to violently erupt.

  The sorcerer raised his hands and launched a torrent of flames towards the vines that lashed against him, but there were too many for him to simply blast away. All he could do was fervently target one at a time as they charged forward— slamming and slashing through the air around him.

  Tender pain radiated from Richard's chest, but he ignored it as he pushed himself to his feet. He let his dented breastplate slide off his form as its straps gave way, and he allowed his hand to move to his torso as he trudged towards his blade. He found it concealed beneath the rubble and knelt to touch its handle. He carefully pulled it from the debris, gripping it tightly before turning to look for Lucan. The sorcerer was breathing heavily now, groaning and gasping
as he defended himself, and more vulnerable than Richard had seen him until that point. His sword grew bright in his hand, and he calmed his nerves. It was time.

  The last vine raced towards the mage, and he readied himself to meet it with a barrage of fire when it burst apart. Five thinner tendrils were born from it and whipped through the air towards the mage. He burned the first that tried to strike him and singed the second, but the third lashed across his face, drawing blood from his flesh. The unforeseen strike dazed the older man, allowing the fourth and fifth tendrils an opportunity to wrap themselves around his body. They raised him into the air, only to slam him back onto the floor. He remained there as the vines receded, back to Ursula's garden, and his opponent approached with sword in hand.

  The sorcerer sent a tired blast of black fire towards him, but it possessed only half the power it had before. Richard swiped at it carelessly and continued his march. Another flame raced past him as he neared the mage, but he simply sidestepped it.

  "You can't fight this," the young man told him, his mind drawn to the words Andros had shared with him. "Justice… Justice is Great, and it always prevails…"

  "Your justice is not mine," Lucan murmured, raising his hands once more. "It could never be…"

  His palms grew alive as dark fire filled them, but Richard was unafraid. He raised his blazing sword, knowing that it would cut through whatever meager power the wizard had left within him. His pocket grew warm as he steadied the blade over Lucan's body, and he yelled out as he brought it down.

  Time seemed to defy itself as black flames slowly raced to meet Richard, and his bright blade crashed down to match them. However, just as the two forces collided, King Levi's blade fell cold— its light left it, surprising both its bearer and his foe. Lucan's flames swept past the unignited sword and slammed into Richard, sending him sprawling away across the throne room. He tumbled until he came to rest near the stairs of the throne.

  He groaned, turning his eyes to the blade that still sat in his hand, and he attempted to give it life. Yet, there was no change within its gleaming surface. Confusion moved through his mind, and his hand darted to his pocket in search of the gem. It was gone.