“Alright!” Viknor said.
“Father, I will deal with you later!” Azar said, “Come, General!” He grabbed on to Giovanni. There was an explosion of blue-purple mana, clearing to remove the spectacle that was just there in the sky. Azar and Giovanni landed in the midst of Magmalians, entering the war without hesitance, swords already drawn. Vile currents buzzed about Azar’s swords.
Viknor appeared inside the tower with the king. “Lad, go down and fight with Azar,” he told Kyle, “He and Giovanni are at the foot of the tower! Hurry!”
Ki glared at the Magmalian King, whose face was almost pitiful.
“Get this fool out of my sight, Viknor!” Ki spat, “Lock him down in the deepest cell you find! When time is there, he will be dealt with!” Viknor disappeared with the shamed king.
***
Back at the Zakatian shrine, Blade’s limits were put to the test – the battle there was becoming other than trivial for him. He fended off another of the nastily strong attacks, jumping back in defence. The enemy numbers were cut down by maybe a half, but Blade was exhausted. He gripped his blade tightly, breathing hard. He hissed as he dodged another swing, moving his head to avoid incoming arrows. The soldiers, their swords, even the arrows that were shot at him were encased in that troublesome pink glow that added accuracy, strength and speed.
That damn witch. Azar had killed Zedra, but her spell was still in effect, and it was looking to overwhelm Blade. The Zakatian looked about him. He was still thickly surrounded. I can’t die. Not yet. Though his dilemma was dismal, Blade’s enemies hadn’t managed to land more than a few scrapes on him. I am Blade… Losing to dogs like these… He hissed again, tapping into the last of his strength, his teeth clenched tightly inside his firmly shut mouth.
***
Each minute Hercule faced carried with it litres of blood and waves of desperate shouts. Azar and Kyle stood back to back, facing about ten Magmalians. Giovanni was somewhere else cutting through his enemies like straws of grass.
“You still breathing, boy?” Azar asked.
“I think so,” Kyle’s reply came. “Let’s finish this front quickly so we can help Blade.”
“That’s the spirit.” With that, Azar released two bolts of lightning, killing two men quickly. As soldiers rushed on toward Kyle, in a burst of mana, Azar used a suspension spell. “Niamer!” There was a cloud of blue mana and the soldiers were frozen in their steps. In a few merciless slashes, Kyle wiped through the statues, moving on to more animate enemies, who didn’t prove to be much more of a challenge for him anyhow. He was almost confused in how easily he was fighting off even three, four soldiers at a time, killing quickly and evading all attacks. He made a proud laugh he just couldn’t hold in coolly. Azar glanced over at the boy, sending bolts though a few others. A smirk almost reached his face, but then he thought of how meeting with his father later on would play out – or even if he was already killed by the Herculeans.
“Abingush!” Azar blew up about three more men, the blast sending a few more flying off. Soon, there was a wide circle around Kyle and Azar, a circle of nervous, shaking, fearful soldiers. As the men were distracted by their fear of these two fighters, a team of Herculeans reached upon them, finishing them off quickly. Kyle took notice of one of the Herculeans in particular, a youngster looking to be in his late teens or so. His white uniform seemed more reddened than his comrades’. He carried two swords that seemed even long as Blade’s. He wore a cold smirk on his face, and his long brown locks flashed with a kind of style each time he turned his head to make another kill.
“Is he not the Magmalian Prince?” one of the high ranking Herculeans pointed out, moving toward him with the readiness to attack.
“Stand down, soldier. He’s with us,” Giovanni’s voice came from behind Azar.
“Supreme General,” the soldier greeted, bowing slightly.
“You two will have to strip some Herculean corpses to avoid confusion,” Giovanni told them. “Let’s make haste – this area is clear but there are three others fields with high enemy densities. Azar, how is your magic doing?”
“A few shifts should be left in it.” There was a burst of extravagant purple mana – it could only be one wizard. “You’ve recovered already?!” Azar asked.
“Viknor!” Giovanni greeted.
“Not fully. I have about a tenth of my power now, so I will finish the war here.”
“What?!” Giovanni nearly stuttered, wondering if this old man was joking.
“He is more than capable,” Azar said. “Supreme General, let us who are here tend to the solders at the Village of the Sword. Viknor will make sure the battle here at Hercule is won.”
Kyle sighed heavily. Finally.
Viknor nodded.
“Very well,” Giovanni said. “Go save my men, Viknor!” Viknor shifted off. “Laika, you and your men come with us,” Giovanni said to the boy with dreads.
Kyle’s eyes widened. HIS men?
“You must be the Herculean wonder child nicknamed the Speed Demon,” Azar recognized. “Your combat skills and tactical insight are supposed to be on the level of high generals.”
Kyle hissed on hearing this.
“And you are the confused brat who betrays his father to fight as a Herculean,” Laika greeted back, a look of contempt on his face. “I will kill you two when the war is over.”
“You little-- ?!” Kyle’s speech halted as he became exceedingly confused; in what was an unreadably fast move, Laika reached up to him and Azar, swords centimetres from their throats, that killer grin on his face.
“Enough, Laika!” Giovanni blasted. The boy laughed, stepping back from them.
Surely his speed is notable, Azar realized, I couldn’t even react with shifting.
Kyle was still too stunned to move a muscle.
His performance in the Black War was vital in keeping Hercule on the map, Azar thought, and the kid wasn’t even a soldier back then.
“Feel like trying that again, hotshot?!” Kyle dared, just regaining his ability to speak.
Laika laughed.
“You two shouldn’t underestimate each other,” Azar said.
“Enough of this – let’s move!” Giovanni came in.
***
Blade made another backward leap, fending off four attacks before reaching ground. “Ah!” He shifted himself, but not quickly enough to avoid a nasty slice that landed somewhere amongst his left ribs. He staggered to the right as blood spewed from his side. He ducked and sent his sword through another enemy, but couldn’t react quickly enough to avoid an incoming arrow completely. He clenched his teeth harshly as he roughly pulled the arrow out of his shoulder.
I know I’m tired, but I should be able to dodge these… His eyes widened suddenly in realization. This magical aura they’re giving off… He found his vision becoming blurry. He struggled to focus. Also, he was hearing sounds in strange proportions. He was certainly hearing birds tweeting loudly while missing more important sounds like the clashing of his sword with another. Blade realized that Zedra’s magic didn’t only make his enemies stronger, but was affecting his senses, and more gravely as he spent more time breathing in the poisonous mana.
This isn’t good! He made another swift dodge. He was sure he avoided the strike, but his robes split apart and so did his flesh. A heavy kick reached him and he staggered back, losing grip on his sword. A fully fledged strike reached him and relieved him of much more of his blood. His eyesight blackened as he glimpsed death. He puked blood the next second as a blade was ran straight through his back. He looked down at the bloody sword that forced through his chest. “I failed… Lord First…” As the sword was pulled from him, he fell limply to his knees.
As Blade’s head descended to hit the dirt, he saw a sudden appearance of redness, a flurry of familiar mana. Still, he could do nothing but hit the dirt. Blood pooled under him quickly. Electricity, raging fire and quick slashes soon cleared the immediate area of the Magmalians possessed by sorcero
us strength. Encircling Blade were men in bloody white, men who bore the mighty Herculean crest on their chests – the emblem was quite unique, and itself told the story of Hercule. It was an eagle holding a twig in its mouth, rising quickly from the raging flames beneath it, which in an effort to destroy it, forged from itself a fiery hand that is ever trying to grab the bird.
“Save my people,” Blade muttered. Kyle looked down at his master, then rushed down to him in panic.
“So this must be the great Blade from the Land of the Sword,” Laika said, looking down at the dead-looking man with a face of disdain, “defeated by a mere few hundred soldiers.” In a fast move, Kyle reached up to Laika, making a reckless swing at him.
What?! Kyle panicked.
Laika had anticipated his attack, and in a flash of a move, was already behind Kyle, his two long swords breathing against both sides of the boy’s neck, his back turned to Kyle’s.
“Laika! Kyle!” Giovanni and Azar snapped almost in unison.
“They’re coming!” one of the Herculeans alerted as the Magmalians swarmed down on them.
Laika made a swift movement, and already had his swords running through the glowing Magmalians. Huh?! He turned to block an unexpectedly quick attack. He skated back as his sword touched the soldier’s. What the— He could barely keep up with the three soldiers that had him surrounded. He was frightened by their speed and strength, and suddenly wondered just how Blade could have killed so many of them singlehandedly. Two more men rushed up to him from behind. His locks flashed as he turned just a little too slowly to save himself. Azar’s lightning pushed the attackers off quickly. Azar noticed that already half of the few Herculeans who had appeared with him were killed. He quickly saw and sensed the level of the magic that had powered up these men.
“Be careful, everyone! These men are strengthened by magic!” Azar warned.
“Azar, leave them to us! Heal Blade!” Kyle gave out. Azar looked down at Blade – he was sure that no amount of magic could save him. He sighed heavily, then kneeled and shifted with him, appearing atop the Zakatian shrine with Blade, which was clear of enemies.
He turned Blade to lie on his back quickly, assessing the nasty wounds he suffered.
“Azar,” Blade muttered, somehow clinging to life, “don’t waste your magic healing me. Make sure Kyle lives. Kill these bastards and protect the shine.”
“Trying to throw your own chores on me now?” Azar knelt over Blade and put his hands in position, summoning up vast amounts of red mana. The entire shrine became enveloped in the redness as he tried to fight off Blade’s persisting death. His veins bulged and his eyes flared as his mana was being drained at an unimaginable rate. Blade uttered a stifled cry through his teeth as bones were mended and his flesh was regenerated.
“Alright, enough!” Blade said as he saw that Azar was nearly collapsing. He stretched and touched Azar’s chest. “Save whatever you have left. I can fight now.” Blade stood slowly, still in obvious pain. The healing was far from complete, but at least his death was postponed. “My blade,” the swordsman said urgently. With a silent spell, Azar summoned the man’s sword and gave it to him. “I am forever in your debt, Herculean General,” Blade said, smiling a little.
“Heh! My magic is down for the count, but I have more than enough power to kill these houseflies!” Fire flared about Azar’s hands and swords. Blade glanced over at him, realizing that Azar’s powers were fully restored.
Blade looked down at the battling Kyle, Laika and Giovanni. The other Herculeans that had come were long dead. The three were fighting impressively well against the spelled soldiers. Kyle and Giovanni were cutting men down almost as fast as the speed demon. “Come now, swords only,” Blade said to Azar, “Let me see if you’ll let these kids and that old man outdo you.”
Azar laughed a little, fire and lightning swarming his swords. “A little fanciness isn’t quite cheating,” he said. Blade looked pleased. In a jiffy, both men jumped down into the brawl, killing together a dozen men before their feet hit the ground.
The grave battle soon became a rigorous competition of laughs and slaughter and kill-counts and stylish throat-cutting as some of the continent’s strongest swordsmen fought valiantly, each wanting more than victory to showcase their skill. Kyle and Laika occasionally glanced over at each other. Kyle had too much on the line to be easily outdone. Two of his teachers were watching, plus he couldn’t afford for Laika to see him as a weakling. There could be no harm in impressing the Herculean Supreme General either.
***
Oga appeared in the presence of the god of elements. Kizer was in a massive room of books, scrolls and charts he had gathered himself.
“Have you found the tablets I sent you for?” Kizer asked, not looking away from the book he was flipping the pages of quickly, eating up all the knowledge that was stored in it. In the past year, he had learnt more history than all the world’s scholars combined, somehow finding material hidden away from the eyes of many desperate searchers. He knew of what had become of all his races, and almost every important event that occurred since his ‘death’ was now stored in his head. He had many different tables set up with different lines of information and research. There were tables with potions and rare substances and equations he generated to create things no scientist before him had the wisdom to fathom.
“They were destroyed, but I managed to recover what was written on them.”
“Good.”
Oga glanced over to one of the more interesting tables, already understanding everything there. “Hm. I worked on such a thing centuries before the first war,” Oga said, impressed that Kizer was now undertaking such a project.
“You mean the life equation?” Kizer asked, throwing up the book he just had to land neatly in a small space on a shelf above him.
“Yes. I suppose you’re thinking it would be better to cleanse this world of its present dwellers and create your own people, waging another battle with me to get me out of the picture, then erase all history and reign as creator and God,” Oga figured.
Kizer snickered a little. He was too used to Oga to be very impressed though. “But you figured after years of study that it is impossible to create life,” Kizer said.
“Correct. Life can be regenerated, restored, prolonged, but no amount of magic or elemental power can create human life.”
“Do you know how mankind began?” Kizer asked. Oga paused for a moment. There were few things Oga didn’t know the answer to, and this was obviously one of them. “Exactly,” Kizer said, “then you have no right to say that creating human life is impossible… I have created forests, and in them, even after I slept, new life was sprung up. I have created volcanoes that lived as much as trees live. All of life is made of one essence, one fabric. If that prime element is found, then various degrees and forms of life can be created at will. My elemental powers are ends that all lead back to one beginning. I have found that these natural elements are not responsible for creating life, but are themselves lifeforms created by some other power, some genesial element which I must find.”
“Your prowess in battle might be a slight notch above mine, Kizer, but my wisdom and knowledge, even you should admit, are levels above yours. Everything you are now learning is what I have studied to their ends.”
“Tell me then, is resurrection possible? Can even your level of magic bring back the dead?”
“I am surprised you are just now asking me this. . . If that was something that could be accomplished, then my children would not need live in my memories.”
“You’re lying, Oga.”
“Hm?”
“You have the ability to raise the dead, but if you resurrect your own children, I will compel you to raise mine, and the gap between our mights will further expand.”
Oga hissed. “Remember how narrowly you edged me in our battles, Kizer.”
“More importantly, do you remember that seal you put on my children many years ago?” Oga’s eyes widened. He was ce
rtainly frightened by Kizer’s knowledge of this.
Long ago
The Zagans were just defeated, and the world was in ruins. The destroyers of the dark spirits were together in one place. The hill they were on trembled slightly under the pressure of the power of those who stood atop it. Kizer’s six children who survived the war stood behind him. They would be the fathers of the six great elemental races.
“I don’t trust them, father,” Argros said, “let us finish them off right here.”
“Easy, brother,” Yuki said, seeing Argros was already coated with the silvery armour, fists and feet glowing with an enormous power. He didn’t even try to make his idea discreet.
“Yes, father, let us kill them here,” Aragan agreed, ready to burst into his white flames.
“Silence,” Kizer said. Oga faced Kizer with his two remaining children by his side; Witch and Wizard. They were gathered there to make a treaty between the two families. Just before any kind of agreement could be made, Oga made a move that was critical to his sinister plan. Oga, with the little mana he had left, wielded a spell that made him act outside of the bounds of time for a moment. He quickly made his way toward Kizer and slammed his hand against his chest, muttering some words from magic’s original language. Golden writings appeared all about Kizer’s body and then vanished. Oga swiftly did this to all of Kizer’s children and then to his own, then, as the spell was about to give way, went back to his original position, and time resumed.
“How could you… how could you know of that?” Oga asked, now at least slightly nervous.
“I watched you seal all of us. A time suspension spell of that level could never have been enough to affect me.”
“…”
“I later analysed the seal you had put on me to decipher your plan. I saw that it was linked to the kind of magic that regenerates life, the highest degree of healing magic. I wanted to figure everything out without making you aware of my knowledge of this, but it seems that isn’t possible. I know that you are capable of using those seals, along with your eighth grade magic to resurrect our children. It is only because I knew your capabilities why I created Araseli.”
The Ancients Page 9
