by Sam Ferguson
A second green spark flew into the cell and pummeled Jason with the same energy.
The two of them writhed in the cell for several moments until the guard snapped his fingers and the sparks faded, taking their lightning with them. Jonathan and Jason panted for breath and neither of them had the will or strength to fight back again.
“Now, be good little children and remain quiet. I am trying to focus.”
Jonathan hung there, exhausted and achy from the spell the guard had thrown at him. It was easy to see why the earlier sacrifice hadn’t fought back. The guard had likely zapped all of the fight out of him long before his turn on the altar came up. Jonathan would try to hold out as long as he could, but he also saw that he was not likely going to escape.
CHAPTER 13
Jonathan had fallen asleep at some point, his body simply drained of its energy. Now he was awake and there was a commotion in the area that was rather panicked sounding. The guard was standing near the altar, shouting at several trolls and ordering them about. A thin layer of smoke filled the inside of the chamber, swirling around the ceiling and smelling of burning wood.
“You!” the elf guard said as he turned to see Jonathan waking up. “You did this!” The elf strode around the altar and opened the cell door with a snap of his fingers. He walked right up to Jonathan and pulled a small dagger from his belt and held it to Jonathan’s throat. “Who else was with the two of you?”
“What?” Jonathan asked. The two of them? Had the elves not found Griff? Was a cavedog the cause of all this commotion? Had he burrowed to them at last? Jonathan’s face twisted into a smile.
“Who else was with you?” the guard shouted.
Suddenly the elf’s eyes went wide and his back stiffened.
“Hello boys,” a familiar voice called.
The elf guard fell to the floor and Miranda stood behind him, holding a long dagger made of obsidian in her hand.
“Miranda!” Jonathan called out.
Miranda smiled and pointed to the ceiling. Jonathan’s chains were loosed and he dropped the few inches to the floor. Next she turned to Jason and waved her hand over his arm. A glowing green energy flowed out from her and into Jason’s wound. The bone moved into place and Jason squirmed and screamed, but Miranda held his arm firm. The tissue and muscle then closed and healed. Then she opened his chains as well.
“There, now I have finished everything I needed to do. I have what my heart desires,” Miranda said as she stood up.
Jonathan looked at her questioningly. He remembered the words of the fortune-telling Ma’at, but what did she mean by repeating them now? Jonathan had hoped that it meant they would one day be together. Yet, somehow he knew now that that was not a possibility. She was changed now, more mature in her powers of course, but also she seemed to be much older. Her face didn’t show any wrinkles, but there was something in her eyes that spoke of lifetimes of experience and trials.
Miranda turned to Jonathan and smiled once more. She stepped in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Now you have what you need, and I have the desire of my heart,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Jonathan asked.
“Reshem will have to explain it better than I, for my time grows short here, but I have rewritten time.”
“Rewritten time? With Reshem?” Jonathan pressed.
Miranda smiled and nodded. “He kept me safe, for the long journey.”
“What journey? Where did you go?”
“I slept for one hundred and thirty years, Jonathan,” she said as she took his hand. “I am no longer who I once thought I was.”
“How is that possible?” Jonathan shook his head and glanced out to the room, expecting to see trolls rushing toward them, but he only saw the troll with the black mohawk slumped over the altar, with a column of red light draining his body as it had the sacrificial elf. Only then did he notice the red tendril that extended out to Miranda. “Be careful!” Jonathan said as he tried to pull her away from the crystal’s reach. Miranda didn’t move, and the tendril shocked Jonathan and sent him to the floor.
“I’m not fully here,” Miranda said. “I am only a projection of myself, sent through time to find you but once more.”
“What? I don’t understand,” Jonathan said.
“In my world, you died here on this altar, and so did Jason,” Miranda said as she pointed back to the obsidian altar. “After I woke up, I spent years trying to find a way back to this moment. I knew that if I could get you out, you would survive. I could never give up on you, my friend.”
“I died?” Jonathan asked as he picked himself off the floor.
“But not now!” Miranda said happily. “Now you will live. Both of you will live. You will stop Brykith from finding the crystal, and everything will be protected.”
“You’re sure?” Jonathan asked. “The two of us can stop Brykith?”
Miranda cocked her head to the side. “No, the three of you, and your cavedog too.”
Jonathan shook his head. “Ziegler abandoned us after he…” his words caught in his throat and he looked at her. How could he tell her that instead of rescuing her father, they had killed him?
“You are wrong,” Miranda said pointedly. “Ziegler didn’t abandon you.”
Jonathan nodded. “He did, he left us after—”
Miranda put a finger over Jonathan’s mouth. “Listen carefully. My father lives, so does Ruben. They are safe, and with me in the future. Reshem will explain it all, I promise. All of you are safe now.”
“And Ziegler?” Jason asked while Jonathan was silently trying to process what Miranda had said.
“If Ziegler abandoned you, then who started the fire?” Miranda asked.
Jonathan looked up to the thickening smoke. Could it be true? Was Ziegler back?
Miranda pulled him by the hand and took them to the window situated in the wall above the elf guard’s desk. Harsh, black smoke rose high into the air and flames toppled trees by the second. The blaze looked like something born of a dragon, or perhaps the hell fires of Hammenfein. It encompassed everything Jonathan could see, and he could see a vast area given that the window was high up inside the tower.
“You see, Ziegler has returned.” Miranda smiled. “Now go, live a good life, and make me proud.”
Jonathan spun around and Miranda floated back toward the red crystal. “Wait!” he shouted. “Don’t go!”
Miranda smiled, a tear falling from her left eye, and then she faded away as the red tendril from the crystal disappeared.
“Come back!” Jonathan shouted at the top of his lungs.
The red crystal fell from the air and shattered against the onyx altar.
Miranda was gone.
Jason put a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “Come on, we can figure this out later, but for now we have a war to win.”
Jonathan saw that his brother was using his injured arm without pain and poked it gently. “She fixed it,” he said as if noticing for the first time.
“She saved us both, now come on, let’s make sure it was worth it.”
Jonathan went to the window once more and looked down.
A lone man stood in the grass, shirtless and holding a sword. At his feet were the corpses of four dead trolls, and behind him was Griff, Jonathan’s ever-loyal companion.
“Griff went and found him,” Jonathan said.
Jason came to the window and smiled. “Smart little bugger, isn’t he?” Jason asked.
As the two of them watched, Ziegler shouted something out, but they couldn’t quite make out the words. In response, a dozen trolls came at him. Ziegler then held up his sword and a golden streak of lightning came down from the clouds and lit the sword ablaze. Then, with his fiery sword and Griff at his side, Ziegler charged the oncoming trolls. The twelve of them fell within seconds to the two savage fighters on the ground.
“Ziegler has a flaming sword,” Jason said.
Jonathan nodded. “I can see that.”
Jason turned awa
y from the window and looted a nearby chest and found a pair of scimitars. “Well then, onward and upward?”
*****
Ziegler felt his rage boiling within him. All of the guilt, sadness, and shame Reshem had taken from him was replaced by pure, unadulterated indignation. It channeled through him and into his sword. The tempestuous forest fire around him was too large for even the elves to quench with their magic. He knew, because four of them had tried already, before he slew them. Even had they been able to quench the flames, Myrskyn’s power would have easily restarted several new fires. The roaring inferno would consume everything around him, and with any luck, it would destroy the tower as well.
He was not here to win a war, or to stop some elf from acquiring a crystal. He was here for his comrades, both those who had fallen, and those who yet lived. His tattoos burned upon his skin, seemingly hotter than either his sword or the blaze around him, but thanks to Reshem, their memories gave him strength now instead of crushing guilt. He fought with the zest of seventy men, felling trolls with one sweep of his flaming sword and crushing everyone before him. His reflexes were keen and honed to a point he had never experienced before.
As a tall elf rushed out from the tower door and sent magical missiles at Ziegler, the large warrior batted them away with his sword. The ricocheting bolts struck several other elf warriors that had come to join the battle. Those who were not too terrified to run were torn apart by Griff.
Ziegler strode comfortably to the tower door, his rage plain on his blood-stained face.
The elf mage cowered before him, putting his arms up to shield himself. “Mercy! I beg for mercy!”
“Beg for mercy from Nagé, for I have none to give,” Ziegler said. His sword went up, and then it came down to cut the elf mage in two. He walked through the doorway and deftly dodged a crossbow aimed at his chest from a side door. He rushed the assailant before the elf could reload another shot and ran his fiery sword through the elf’s chest. Behind the elf was a pair of trolls, but upon seeing the fire, they tried to back away. Captain Ziegler stalked them and then cut them down. First he took one troll’s arm, and smiled as the burned stump failed to regrow anew.
“That’s why trolls don’t like fire,” Ziegler said with a wink. Then he finished them both and left the small chamber. As he exited the room, he dragged his flaming sword along a bookcase, setting it alight as well.
“Griff!” Ziegler shouted. “Let’s go up.”
The two worked their way through the main level of the tower, killing anything foolish enough to fight them and allowing a few unfortunate souls the opportunity to run outside and take their chances with the raging fire that encompassed the tower completely. Ziegler was quick to light anything he could get close to, and then he made his way up the tower.
On the fourth floor he was met with fierce resistance. Two elves hurled lightning and fire down the stairs at him. Even with his sword’s ability to cut through and deflect magic, he was forced to back down to the third level. One of the elves rushed down, wielding a scimitar in his left hand while throwing lighting with his right. Ziegler dodged the magic and went in hard. He feinted a thrust, and then came up quick to block the elf’s scimitar. Then he lashed out with a savage front kick that sent the elf into the wall. In that moment the elf’s magic failed, and Griff finished him off.
The second elf came in with a spear, stabbing and thrusting at Griff, but the cavedog nimbly avoided each strike.
Ziegler rushed toward the second elf and cut through the spear with one slice of his sword. Undeterred, the elf leapt toward Ziegler and kicked the big man in the chin. Another strike hit Ziegler in the stomach, but the elf was nowhere near Ziegler’s strength. Ziegler caught the next kick with his left hand and pushed the elf’s ankle up into the air while stepping forward to throw the elf down onto his back. A moment later, the flaming sword plunged through the elf and into the wooden floor. By the time Ziegler yanked his weapon free, the floor boards had caught fire and the flames were spreading rapidly throughout the third floor.
“Let’s go find my boys,” Ziegler told Griff.
*****
Jonathan and Jason found the hallway next to their cell empty, though the smoke wafting in from outside, and from downstairs, was becoming thicker. They followed the hallway around a long curve and then came to a large, wooden door. Jason moved to it and slowly pushed it to test the lock. The door swung in and the two quietly slipped inside to find a tall elf standing over what appeared to be some sort of pedestal made of onyx. The object reminded Jonathan of bird baths he had seen in Holstead, with a long, slender base leading up to a wide bowl with liquid inside.
The tall elf sighed heavily and stood back from the object. He pulled back the hood of his red robes and glowered at Jonathan. His long, shining white hair flowed down around his face, which was now covered with painted symbols upon his cheeks and forehead.
The elf was breathing heavily and sweat had built up on his forehead, causing a few of the symbols to run over his skin and lose shape. It was obvious that Brykith was exhausted from whatever expenditure of energy the scrying spell demanded.
“I must admit,” the elf said as he glanced back down to the object in front of him, “I did not expect you to survive the last time we met. It seems that the fates favor you, what with your victory over the troll king, surviving my assassin in Tirnog, and then disrupting the rituals in Sierryn and now ending up here.”
“It’s over, Brykith,” Jonathan said.
The elf nodded. “Yes, the dream is dead now, I suppose. I need more energy to use the scrying pool. The migot crystals did not store enough charge, and someone has drained the crystal here in the tower.
Jonathan smiled, for now he realized that Miranda had stolen the energy in the migot crystal as part of her spell. The clever girl had not only saved them, but also stopped Brykith from accessing the very power he had fought so hard to amass.
“I still have not uncovered where the Astral Crystal is, but now you are here, and my forest burns. Even if I survive, the other cities will notice the destruction. If the other elves find out what I have been doing before I can use the crystal, then there will be no hope for the new world.”
“Pity,” Jason said. “I was starting to like the idea.”
“You mock me only because you are too ignorant to understand the damage you have done. I would have made the world a perfect place!” Brykith slammed his fist on the scrying pool. “The only way forward now is for us to join together, don’t you see? With warriors like you at my side, we can bring back those we have lost.”
“You murder elves and humans alike, what do you know about loss? You let the Troll Wars rage on so you could find a crystal!” Jason spat.
“The assassin in Tirnog was my younger brother,” Brykith said flatly. “The guard who captured you and took you to the cell to be used in sacrifice was my nephew. You have killed them both. Yet, if we work together, we can gain back all that was lost, you and I. You can have your friends, even that cur who was turned into a bear!”
Jonathan snapped at the mention of Raven. For an instant, he forgot that Miranda had said they were all saved already. He rushed forward, scimitar in hand.
Brykith cast a spell, summoning a column of fire, but Jonathan dodged to the side and spun around it. Brykith then leapt back and sent a streak of lightning through the air, but Jonathan somersaulted underneath that attack and came up on his feet. A moment later, he plunged the blade deep into Brykith’s chest and continued running, grotesquely holding the squirming elf up on the blade until he rammed into the wall.
Brykith groaned and choked. His jaw opened several times, but no sounds came out other than sputtering gurgles and gasps for air.
Jonathan then turned away, leaving his scimitar in Brykith’s body. He went to the scrying pool and grabbed the rim. He pulled at it with every fiber in his body, but it only creaked and groaned. Jason put his sword down and moved to help his brother. The two of them tugged and pu
shed, rocking it as much as they could until it came loose from the floor and toppled over, the liquid spilled and the bowl cracked to pieces. They were so focused on the scrying pool that they didn’t notice Brykith raising his hands to cast one more spell.
“I shall take your souls down with me!” Brykith snarled.
The two brothers turned around to see a great, glowing symbol in the air before Brykith. The elf began speaking a spell, but then a strange whistle filled the room as a crossbow bolt zipped in from the doorway and entered Brykith’s left eye. The elf’s head jerked back and the glowing symbol dissipated as the spell was left unfinished.
Jonathan and Jason turned to see Captain Ziegler holding a crossbow in one hand and a flaming sword in the other.
“Rather useful, this,” Ziegler said as he held the crossbow up for the brothers to see. “You both all right?”
Jonathan glanced to Jason and the two shared a smile.
“You came back,” Jonathan said.
Ziegler nodded. “Every man has his demons,” he said. “The trick is never to let them beat you forever.”
“How did you know where to go?” Jason asked.
Ziegler stepped to the side and Griff came trotting into the chamber, carrying an elf’s hand in his mouth. “I had a bit of help from a rather crafty little animal.”
Jonathan bent down to pet Griff, but then stood up suddenly and looked back at Brykith. “Speaking of crafty, why didn’t Brykith fight back or teleport away like he did last time?”
Ziegler shook his sword, which extinguished the flames, and then sheathed it before tossing the crossbow to Jason. “Because, people do stupid things when the enemy presses the attack and overwhelms them. The fire outside is going to not only wipe out everything here, but it’s going to attract a lot of attention. I would guess his only way out was to pour all of his energy into his scrying efforts.” Ziegler pointed to the broken object on the floor and smiled. “Which I see you have taken care of.”
“How did you learn so much about magic?” Jason asked.
