Damned

by K R Leikvoll

  Varnoc Stonebreaker was different; he loved me in a way nobody else did. Maybe it was a small shred of Nyzara that still screamed to be heard.

  To say the coming weeks were as easy as taking over Diam would be a false account. It was clear how many Zaarians were hiding out in the main cities when waves of their battalions were sent to slow us down. I do not believe they intended on any of their troupes of warriors defeating Duskwraith’s forces, but they were desperate to mitigate the damage before we reached Uxe. It was obvious by how suicidal they fought on the battlefield – some going to extreme lengths to kill as many as they could before they were brought down.

  Nevertheless, they fell before my wrath and the skill of my army like they were made of sand. They only managed to bring down a few hundred or so in comparison to the droves committing suicide to stop us. I was not yet talented or gifted in the art of necromancy, so they received their honorable end. It was a shame – they could serve much more use as undead ranks of the Infernal Army, but with Raven so far away, they escaped duty.

  It had been months since I departed from my home when our forces made it close enough to Uxe to attempt a siege. I made the decision to have our archers split from the rest of our forces so they could wait for an opportune moment to strike from above. Their absence made it seem like Aresius’ plan to chip away at my numbers was successful.

  The air was still cold enough to bite at my skin. The smoke and smell of death were synonymous with each other. My people were broken and exhausted from our recent push forward, but we could not risk stopping so near to Uxe. It was only a matter of time before my demons drew their attention to the west. I knew they were close; I could feel each one of them less than a league from the city.

  I did more than any other, forcing myself into the front lines to demolish as much as I could to reduce our losses. Fighting was no longer a frightening brush with death. I moved effortlessly around my opponents, regardless of how many faced me at once. War was more in control of my motions and actions as I fought than I was. I did not mind that, for the further I fell under its sway, the better I performed. By the time I had ordered the trebuchets to begin our assault, the entirety of the southern entrance was littered with the corpses of guards and their armored mounts. They were fearsome beasts, but not compared to the bloodthirsty attacks of Morgan, nor the shrapnel I fired from Misery.

  The southern gate was reinforced, still standing after two collisions with boulders. When a female Zaarian with dark curly hair and bright pink eyes peered over the top, I called a cease-fire. I nocked an arrow and prepared to shoot it through her skull, but the sight of Aresius’ sigil on the woman’s bone armor made me hesitate.

  “Stay your troops now, Warden! If it is death and total annihilation you seek, do not damn the rest of your people with you in this futile attempt!” she called down.

  There was only one she could be, and one that she was: Leora of Aresius’ guard.

  The headdress she wore was made not of bone like the rest of her armor, but twisted pieces of silver. Her face was wrought with exhaustion, likely from trying to evacuate the city. I knew she was attempting to delay me.

  “It is you that damns your people, Leora!” I replied with a vicious smile. “We gave your Emperor the chance to make peace and he chose bloodshed. Perhaps if you surrender now, I will spare you the sight of his head on a spike.”

  “So be it!”

  A giant vat filled with molten metal was poured down the front of the gate, creating a barrier on the bridge to stop our crossing. They were fools thinking something as simple as fire and brimstone could hold me back. I signaled once more for the trebuchets to continue despite it, also calling for Typhlon to order our advance.

  With an eardrum-rupturing crack, the gate finally crumbled inward. On the other side, row after row of warriors and civilians alike brandished their weapons, prepared to hold the line with their very lives. They would have their wish.

  Calling upon the powers of the God of Wrath and Violence, I commanded the flames and lava to lash and douse the foes blocking my path. It whipped through the air, causing those affected by my magic to scream while they melted into various pieces. I was not sure how long it would take the archers to begin their part of the siege, but I made it my goal to push the residents of Uxe as close as I could to the west where death by fire would greet them.

  Morgan and I moved easily through their ranks, destroying any and all in my way. It seemed like we were temporarily winning as I watched citizens fall victim to the trebuchets continuously firing over our heads. They were repositioning behind us to begin assaulting the palace itself. I wished to witness it crack and surrender to Duskwraith’s might, but I had much more important business to attend to. Morgan bounded up the steps of the pale castle while I shot ceaseless waves of arrows at the guardsmen protecting their Emperor’s home.

  I leapt off his back and fought my way into the building, already drenched in the glorious scent of my enemies’ blood. The palace had appeared so beautiful the first time I crossed its threshold. This time, in the middle of the night and lit up by the light of the fires demolishing the city, it felt more primitive; an echo of Zaar’s violent past.

  There was only one thought on my mind, and it was Aresius. I could see through the walls, where it appeared he was barricaded in a back room. He was pacing, nervously awaiting his death with a few others, perhaps members of his court. I could not help chuckling at how easy I thought it was. I had expected the Zaarians to be a more fearsome foe before the war began. Varnoc was surely wrong about Uxe fulfilling my bloodlust.

  I was forced to pause when I entered the courtyard. A strange, magical energy flowed off of the various shadowblooms, nearly bringing me to my knees in the middle of the fight. I tried to shrug off the feeling, holding onto a pillar to avoid losing my balance. Curious, I plucked one from the ground and studied it, noticing pale blue wisps of magic sparking from its petals. Every other flower growing over the pillars and earth began to radiate with the same light. I nocked an arrow and waited patiently rather than running for the door.

  With a gust of silvery wind, an older Zaarian appeared before me. He had white hair, brilliant yellow eyes and the longest beard I had ever seen. His horns were rather overgrown – cracked in several spots and reminded me more of a Dryad’s antlers. He wore thick gray robes unlike the armor of his allies. The trinkets and charms tied in his hair buzzed with an energy that could be felt through the air itself.

  “Gradelkine,” I breathed with a smile of satisfaction. Both of the Emperor’s hounds were accounted for – not beside their ruler as they should have been.

  “I have never encountered the likes of your evil before. Even Lord Vincent cannot compare. So, tell me, child, what has caused such a demise?” he asked, leaning on his staff made of a twisted tree branch.

  “Do you think I come for chatter?”

  He shook his head no with a saddened expression.

  “I think you come seeking death as a broken vessel of your masters. There is still time – a chance for you to redeem yourself. Leave this place and flee the darkness before you fall too far into its depths.”

  I released my nocked arrow at his face, wishing to smite him from existence. Every part of my being was revolted at his words. Gradelkine was not the first, nor the last to try my patience and demand I repent from my ways. I did not regret my actions – I still don’t. I will never atone for sins based on perspective. I was bringing peace to Praetis and stopping the hemorrhage of corrupted light leaking from its core.

  Gradelkine lifted his hand to deflect my arrow, causing it to burst and explode back toward me. The only option I had to avoid being sliced into pieces was shielding myself with a wall of flame. Normally, the element was easier to manipulate if there was a source nearby. Despite the crashing fallout from the trebuchets, the fire had not reached the palace.

  What I had not predicted was Gradelkine’s ability to manipulate nearly all of the elements. The sheet of
flame separating us whipped around my arms and constricted me, no matter how much I tried to will it into dispersing. As if I was being manhandled by a giant, I was tossed into the west pillars, almost taking them down with me.

  Gradelkine’s eyes glowed blue; bolts of electricity zapped upward from the earth. My muscles felt stunned and slowed as I clawed my way back to my feet. I summoned War and leapt in the direction of the mage, slicing at his bicep. The static from his magic made it hard to keep my balance. As my blade was about to make contact, the electricity burst through the ground and forced me to sharply draw my arm back. It lined a crackling shield around my foe that looked like it would be impossible to strike through.

  “Fight me, you coward!” I screeched in fury.

  He was stalling, trying to push me out of the palace and back into the streets. I struck at him across the distance, causing fire to erupt from War’s edge. It shot forward as a line of death through the air. He used his staff to propel himself out of the way, only avoiding the worst of it. The flames partially met their mark, searing through his shield and grazing his arm and shoulder. Uncaring about what damage I might cause myself, I released an echoing scream from the Void and launched into a rapid succession of strikes against him.

  The blue lightning was arduous, frying my body through my armor, but I persevered. One of my hooked blades caught him around his wrist in our violent exchange. I swiped it toward me with as much force as I could muster, causing his hand to crack and split from his body. It would have been an advantage if his most reliable magic was not done with blood. It was practically on fire, spraying and burning my face like acid. I could not help screaming from the pain and trying to cover my eyes. With a sharp kick in the gut, he sent me sailing into the far doorway.

  My armor was hard enough to fracture my bones as I landed on my back. Though every part of my being begged for me to return to trying to cut his throat, I struggled to make it to my feet. The electricity covering the courtyard zapped on the ground between us. The elderly man did not seem to care that his hand was missing. Instead, he held the stump out and showered me with more blood with unnatural force. It was a ray of corrosive fluid, strong enough to melt through steel, but the dragon scales of my armor held up with minor damage.

  Before I made my way across the treacherous land to continue my assault, light filled the sky. My archers had finally reached their delicate positions on the rock of the mountains towering on either side of Uxe. The fire they were unleashing on the western residential quarter stirred louder sounds of panic and confusion outside the palace walls. Gradelkine’s face twisted with worry. While he sat and defended Aresius, the city fell further into chaos.

  “You have been given a choice, wizard,” I called across the courtyard. “We can continue to fight until your inevitable fall, or you can try to save your citizens. Who is more important: the Emperor or Zaar?”

  He grew agitated with my words, forcing the electricity sparking from the ground in my direction with fury. I let War and Lord Nakarius aid me, dexterously using the nearest pillar to leap over the shockwave and flip near Gradelkine’s side.

  I slashed at the elderly man with both my blades, trying to avoid thinking about how horribly it hurt to be burned by his blood. When I attempted to cut his throat, a massive shard of red harder than any kind of stone grew from his stump and blocked my attack. Despite his age, Gradelkine fought incredibly agile, almost taking off my thigh with a cleverly placed strike. I avoided it, stepping between his legs and attempting to bring War across his gut. Much like Morein, his cursed blood magic covered him as hard as armor. It did not just protect his torso – it continued to cover his entire body, crystalizing him into immobility.

  Only, I was not fast enough in retracting my limb. Half of my forearm was caught in his prison, preventing me from leaving. I tugged immediately, trying to force it out, but it was encased deeper and tighter than my ability to crack through.

  The sound of the courtyard entrance being thrown open drew my attention away from Gradelkine. Leora strode in, removing a fearsome weapon from her side. It was a whip, adorned with several blades throughout its throng. She had no need for monologues as the city fell, raising it above her to shred into my exposed back. Without thinking twice, I severed my arm with the left blade of War to separate myself from Gradelkine’s prison.

  The whip lashed into the crystal, only leaving shallow scratch marks on its surface as I dodged. I could not wield Misery with one arm, nor could I use War properly with only one blade. It was a difficult situation, but the only alternative to removing my arm had been to fall to Leora. I dared to close my eyes and exhale, mentally invoking the powers of the Void to assist me. As I landed on the balls of my feet away from both of them, a wave of energy washed over my body.

  “Whatever you require, prophet,” whispered the voice of Lord Nakarius.

  In my outstretched left arm, I held War, but it was not as it normally appeared. It had grown in length, redistributing its power from the blade I had been wielding in my right hand to form something I could use. It was solid black, near the shade of Death with crescent-shaped blades on either side of the staff, dwarfing me in size. It was more of a polearm than a scythe such as Raven’s. It seemed like something I might cut myself in the process of using if I was not careful. It had three demonic red eyes in the center that allowed Lord Nakarius to view my movements and assist me with every swing. Though I found it to be more beautiful than any weapon I had ever seen, it was intimidating to use. The aura and forceful pull toward all the living beings in the radius around me felt as though it could tear me into pieces if I did not obey.

  Leora looked at the daunting blade with fear in her eyes, but it did not change her determination. She slowly paced closer to Gradelkine. I moved with her, back in the direction of the courtyard entrance. The whip was raised again, striking near my thighs to throw me off balance. I did not have to think anymore as I focused on keeping War channeled in its current form. I slashed as the whip threatened to make contact with my armor. It spun around my blade giving me an advantage, and Leora was not wise enough to expect it.

  I used my weapon to fling her into the stone wall with more strength than I had ever been gifted. She broke the foundation on impact, giving me a moment to leap in the air in her direction. I brought War down, trying to cut her in half at the torso, but a forceful push of gravity shoved me hard and out of the way. I almost cut myself in my landing as War was far more cumbersome in its greater form.

  The crystal coating Gradelkine burst outward in a shower of shrapnel. I was back on my feet as if I hadn’t fallen, moving faster than I was normally capable of. It was the first occasion I allowed myself to be used as a vessel for Lord Nakarius. The sensation was odd but empowering. I gained agility and foresight to their attacks as if I could predict moments ahead what they were going to do.

  Leora had recovered from being buried in rubble while the wizard parried my swift swing at his guts. The earth itself rose in a pillar to shield him from my blow. I did not waste a moment, bringing War around me once more to demolish his pathetic attempts at blocking. The agile old man ducked with unanticipated flexibility, kicking at the mound with yet another power filled motion.

  Whatever magic he possessed gave him the ability to control the space around us, sending a shard of the earth surging for my rib cage. I stepped backward to dodge, but it hardly mattered, for the rock grew rapidly to keep up. War as a double-edged weapon was almost impossible to intercept at the cost of being useless to block with. I watched the stone grow before it nearly impaled me, turning sharply to avoid it as much as I could. The rock still cut into my side, but it was a shallow, unnoticeable wound compared to the blood flowing from my dismembered forearm.

  We danced around each other momentarily. Even tracking his movements did not give me enough of an advantage as I was going to need to bring him down. I let out a stunning howl on the next pass of my heavy blade, slowing him, but not enough. War cut through his lef
t horn and a part of his ear, taking it off and making him lose his balance. Unfortunately, between anticipating Leora’s whip set to crack me in the face, and a shockwave of electricity Gradelkine released while he stumbled, I was unable to avoid the blade of War swinging back in my direction. It caught my leg hard enough to trip me as well. I had to forcefully allow it to disperse in favor of summoning a wall of flame to blow Leora’s whip back.

  There were two reasons I fell victim to Gradelkine’s next magical abilities. The amount of energy I had willingly allowed to flow through my body to channel War as a single weapon was at an intensity beyond my current capability. Though I had begun the course of sacrificing to my Gods, I was still below the much-needed threshold to handle it entirely. Forcing it to retract into my soul without the proper amount of sacrifice was a mistake and an override, both correlated. For the first time since I had become one with Lord Nakarius, I felt the flames and urge to sacrifice, just as awful as the time I had been buried beneath the ground. I had grown arrogant with my emotions, believing myself above the trauma Vincent subjected me to after the short time I had to recover. I have no motives in lying; I was gripped by fear at the sensation and sent into a disabling panic.

  The other reason was Gradelkine’s growing desperation to end the fight. The smoke was suffocating to both of them and the rest of the city ablaze below us. The situation beyond our squabble was getting more desperate. He propelled himself into the air; his eyes lit up as he commanded the moisture in the space around us to obey his will. The watery form of a river serpent appeared in the sky above. It flew in the direction of the stars, expanding as the waterfalls on either side of the palace channeled into it. Though I forced myself up, I was no match for being able to stop water with flame. The serpent took a sharp nosedive, crashing into me from the heavens.

  As it impacted, Gradelkine manipulated the water, freezing it and turning it to ice. The shards were as sharp as knives, piercing my armor and cutting into my flesh. It was horribly frigid, naturally, slowing me as each piece spread over my skin in a painful layer. Suddenly and unexpectedly, the ice exploded and rended every bit of my body it was in contact with. The pain was bad enough to make me consider I might not be capable of winning the fight against the old man and his companion.