Each of them turned to face the drawbridge just down the road. They started running as the fiend moved toward them. It was way too fast. They would not make it in time. The roar of another creature shook them awake. The ground quaked beneath them as the flash of the golden dragon lit up the sky. Thamias had gathered his strength again and clashed against the black fiend with full force. He used his own weight to hurl it down with him.
* * *
Phorus stood on the other side of the drawbridge, his bone scepter gleaming green. Those who ran toward him had not noticed him. They had not noticed the wave of undead creatures slowly ambling toward them. Were they seeking shelter within castle walls? Perhaps...though they would soon be met with his power.
Phorus locked eyes with one of them, a dark elf. She was the only one seeing him. The rest were looking over their shoulders and running like dogs. He got it, though. The battle of dragons unfolding in the sky was quite the sight. Phorus was not worried at all. The Dragonborn may be the child of the gods, but the Avatar of Mort was a god himself.
She had silver hair that could have emitted its own light. She stopped when she realized who she was looking at. She motioned for the others to stop running. Now they all saw him. Now they all prepared to attack.
Good. His army had just arrived.
Dogs were easy to turn. They had been the first to raise. They raced down the streets behind the group that challenged him and rushed toward them. Their howls were in dissonance with their march—guttural barks mixed with whimpers that drew closer and closer. They jumped before any could take cover. Luthan was able to launch a column of flames at those that attacked him. Jules dodged and stood back to back with Berius, hacking and slashing the flesh of those that kept on coming. Cayne did the same. Blessed blades sizzled as they clashed against decayed skin. The magi fought back, but those without fire or holy weapons eventually met their end.
Ahna’s light returned. She had even more control over it. She could cast rings of light through the pack, disintegrating any touched by the light. Phorus was impressed. That power, he had not expected. What sort of magic was this? It felt old and complex. His eyes were set on her. If there was one being he would consume next, it would be her.
After the dogs came the crows. Now, they had to aim up. And followed by the crows came the undead tide. A wave of blind humanoids followed the sounds of battle, rushing from the Bastion toward the drawbridge. The Wolves would soon be overrun. Luthan saw the creatures in the distance, and so did the others. They were close. Fear began to boil in the ljosalfar’s blood.
The tide was so fierce that the ground shook beneath them, causing a tremor that almost deafened every living soul around. Because of this loud torrent, they had not heard what came next, nor had they expected it.
Ahna was first to finally hear it—low chants coming from the west. Incantations repeated over and over in a language she could not understand. From the dark streets surged glowing greenish shadows of wolves, horses, bears. They were followed by a group of men and women in fur armor, wielding wood and stone scepters. They were Iskalan shamans from Anir’s army. Dispersed into the main road in a semicircle, they attracted the tide’s attention with their chants. And then, they fought. The greenish shadows of large and ferocious animals tackled undead creatures, slowing them down. What they exactly were was unknown, but they looked like ghosts, spirits of powerful animals.
Ahna watched the battle unfold. Those shamans had invoked an older form of divination that allowed them to tap into some sort of spirit world, a pocket dimension of the current plane. That was the only explanation possible. And the spirit animals were fighting relentlessly. Jules joined them with his blessed sword. So did Luthan and the rest of the magi. Ahna still stood on the drawbridge with Cayne when she felt a glare over her shoulder. It made her turn around and face the lich that stood behind her, just a few feet away. She had locked eyes with him just before, but now, staring into his leaking glare spurred a deep sense of fright within her gut.
Ahna called for the light again, and when a crystalline blade surged and merged with her arm, she clashed it against the lich’s scepter. He stared at her with a crooked smile. Cayne took her chance and swiped the Royal Claymore, but the lich had foreseen this move. He raised his free arm toward Cayne and launched her in the air, forcing her to release the weapon. She landed on her back on the cold marble stone. She rolled over and was about to charge again, but the grasp of claws around her arm stopped her. One—two creatures faced her and growled with hunger. She had no weapon, nothing to defend herself. One slashed at her face. She dodged, rolling again and rising to her feet, making a run for it. Had it not been for Jules, who jumped between her and them, they would have clawed through her back.
Phorus wanted to do the same to Ahna, cast her away with repelling magic, but that was ineffective. The dark elf stood beside him, an arc of light glowing behind her.
“What is this power?” he asked. His voice sounded more human than Ahna had expected.
She did not reply. She stared at him, thinking. Would he call the void dragon if she struck him now? She could try.
Ahna focused the light into another ring she launched toward him. A flash as bright as a star crashed against the lich’s skin but left no mark. He was not hurt by it. Nor was he even moved. The fear rose again. Other undead were turned to ashes by her light, but this one was something else. He was much more powerful.
Ahna tried again, focusing a beam of condensed energy toward him. Phorus flinched, but it was barely painful. Not even the light could harm him—his transformation was far beyond that. Ahna panted. This had drawn too much energy out of her. Controlling the light and containing it required far more energy than she could spare. She looked to the ground briefly, gathering her thoughts, thinking of something to do. She noticed a golden glow on the ground. The Royal Claymore, just within her reach. She felt an impulse to touch it, to pick it up. She could hear Cayne’s voice calling to her, asking her to cast the weapon her way.
Ahna stretched her hand to the claymore, grasping it and slowly letting it rise. The white hilt felt warm under her touch. She looked at it, entranced by its gleam. A golden light flickered from the blade’s base to its tip, and the Royal Claymore began to shine again. A melody rang between Ahna’s ears. She wondered for a second if it was in her head or if it was real.
Cayne had stopped running. Her mouth was agape, and she was staring at Ahna in disbelief. Ahna wondered what could cause this. And then the elf realized that she herself was glowing with the blade in perfect harmony. The Royal Claymore lit the area like a holy beacon, just like it had done with Cayne, just like it had done with Jules. Not with anyone else.
* * *
Ahna swung the blade in the lich’s direction. It weighed almost nothing in her hand. Even if he was out of her reach, it still managed to cut through him. Phorus screamed a screech of glass. The scepter he held glowed, and his eyes, that had just become hollow, darkened even more. Phorus growled, breathing in through his jagged teeth.
“You have wasted my patience,” he howled.
Ahna cut through him again, this time at point-blank range. The blade ripped through his rotten tissue, sending an immense and uncontrollable wave of pain down his bloodless veins. What in Hell was that weapon? And who in Hell was its wielder?
Enough! Phorus dashed back, rising above the ground. He clenched the bone scepter with both hands and closed his empty eyes. A screech echoed beyond the horizon.
Ahna knew what that meant. The void dragon had been summoned.
Up in the sky, the longest shadow invaded her sight, followed by the flare of golden wings. The dragons were still battling, but the fiend was coming their way. Ahna just wanted it on the ground so she could get close.
The fiend flipped over mid-air and slowed down, luring Thamias past it so it could latch onto him and send him down with it. Thamias was caught by surprise and by the neck. The two titans crashed on the main road, sliding across the pav
ed ground, destroying everything in their path. Once they stopped, the creature bit into the golden dragon’s neck and clenched its jaw even more. As it held him pinned down, it gushed out another torrent of funeral flames, burning Thamias’s scales to molten gold and reaching his skin. Thamias roared a pained cry. The fiend pierced through the open wound, and the holy beast closed his eyes, breathing one last time before a golden light engulfed him whole.
The void dragon had defeated him, again. It had been so quick to do so, as though the battle before had just been a show. When he regained his elven form, Thamias curled on himself, naked in the dust, and whimpered like he had just locked eyes with Death herself. Once again, he was spared. Once again, he was humiliated. Why had his opponent not just killed him?
The obsidian fiend did not leave. It did not take flight again. Instead, its scaleless skin morphed into a shadow. It began to wither away like ashes passing through the air. At the place where the void dragon had stood rose a figure of pure darkness. The shadow of a man. He stared at Thamias for much too long.
Ahna had seen the golden light drench the main road. Thamias had turned back, but the void dragon was nowhere to be seen. Ahna needed to get there as fast she could, because if both dragons had retaken their primitive form, Cedric was there. Whoever was in control of Cedric’s body, she needed to get to him. Ahna launched the Royal Claymore in the air, and Cayne caught it. The elf was about to head down the main road when she noticed the battle had stopped.
Ahna did not understand why. She peered over her shoulder—Phorus still levitated with his bone scepter lit. What had caused the battle to stop? She looked back. The creatures ahead moved to the side, making way for the shadow that walked toward her. Ahna just noticed it now, and she was frozen in fear.
That was why everyone had stopped fighting. Not only did this creature inspire fear in every soul, but the effect was the same on the undead tide. They were also afraid of him. The closer he got, the more Ahna could see his face, and she collapsed to her knees.
The shadow looked just like Cedric, but his skin was stretched and blackened by decades of solitude. Ahna was utterly mortified. He stopped when he stood right in front of her. He had no breath, no heartbeat, only the silence of death.
She thought he would say something. She remembered the last time she had laid eyes on him, after the Battle of Orgna, before they had said goodbye. But he said nothing. He just stared at her.
She wanted to retrieve the soul sigil and do what she had sworn she would. Free him from the undead curse. Return his soul so he could die, and eternal night would vanish. But she did none of that. She could not. The incomprehensible fear was too much. It had turned her to stone.
* * *
Cedric passed the elf and marched toward the drawbridge, toward Phorus that slowly descended to the ground. The two faced each other in silence until the lich decided to speak.
“Purge the city,” he commanded, then he pointed at the main road. “But burn them first.”
Cedric turned around. He walked back, stepped off the drawbridge and onto the paved road. He gazed ahead for a moment, at the crowd that still stood frozen before him. His eyes even landed on Jules, but they showed no emotions at all.
Seeing the face of his captain, barely recognizable, was like receiving a shock through the heart. The inane fear that had spread through Jules’s veins gave birth to a deep sense of regret that he could not control. Jules had tears swirling down his cheeks. How could this be? How could this shadow of his captain bring out so much pain by its sight alone?
Luthan and his son felt the same. The tall elf recognized it. An unnatural fear sparked by the bearer of the undead curse. The cause of everything that was happening in the dome of night. The lich may be the controller, but this man was the source. The way Ahna looked at him, though, was something he could not explain. He could feel her pain by the way she looked at the figure. Who was this man? And who had he been to her?
Phorus smiled, watching the Avatar walk away, back toward the battlefield. Such a powerful creature, and it was his to command. Thank Mort for this blessing! Phorus admired the shadowman as his skin crackled into ashes that spread through the windless air and gathered into the void dragon again. The unholy beast soared in the sky and veered back toward the Castle of Gold, sending a pyre of purplish flames to the ground.
But Phorus had not expected what came next. Everyone had been paralyzed by the fear induced by the void dragon. Everyone should have been paralyzed. He had not expected one to resist this fear. The one that wielded the weapon he had not yet identified. In the corner of his hollow eye, Phorus saw a flash of gold and nothing else anymore.
Cayne held the blazing Royal Claymore, untouched by the fright that had consumed the battlefield. She had swung it at Phorus as soon as he had looked away. The head of the lich fell to the ground, thumping as it bounced. Cayne followed it with her eyes. The body still stood.
Once the void dragon had disappeared out of sight, the paralyzing fear had dissipated. Luthan ran toward the drawbridge and witnessed Cayne beheading the lich in a flash of gold. But at that moment, he saw the headless body make a move toward Cayne. She was not looking. Luthan ran as fast as he could. Would he be too late? He could not bear being too late. As the body slashed a hand toward the emblem of this rebellion, Luthan unleashed a cone of flames. He released it all. The buried anger, the rage, he transferred this energy into a blast of blue flames that would disintegrate anything in its path, including Phorus Adal. The last thing he heard before the flames hit their target was Cayne’s strident scream.
* * *
When Phorus became a mere memory, an echo of his screams spread through the city. The undead creatures that still roamed the streets froze into place before ambling aimlessly again. Those that fought on the main road paused, confused and unaware, only to be struck by Wolf Pack soldiers that seized the opportunity. But the dome of eternal night still whirled, and its speed only seemed to increase. Luthan’s first action was to check on Cayne, who lay still on the cold ground. Worry began to spread as Jules and Berius came to join him. When they reached her, her eyes were still open, but the dead lich had slashed through her flank. One final act of violence before it died.
Cayne was gasping for air as though she could not breathe anymore. Jules called for a cleric, panicked—he could not bear losing her too. Cayne could see the sky, dark and wild. She closed her eyes, trying to keep her breathing steady because gasping hurt her lungs too much.
“No, Cayne, stay with me!” Jules shouted. “Cayne!”
She did not respond.
They had no time to waste. Luthan and Berius raised their head to the sky, searching for the void dragon. It flew above them, shaking, screeching loud like it had been struck by lightning. It was about to crash down onto the road, but it managed to get a hold of itself again, soaring back into the sky. Its movements stabilized. Its roar dimmed. It veered on itself and took a dive toward the Castle of Gold. They had to find shelter and fast. They helped Cayne up, carried her, her arms around their shoulders while Jules picked up the Royal Claymore, gathered their forces, and they ran.
Ahna ran down the road. She needed to get to Thamias before the void dragon struck again. It was too confused, too bashed by the lich’s loss of control. It looked more enraged than ever and would likely destroy anything in its path. She needed to get to it, to fight it. She could not do it without the help of Thamias.
But she was too late. She spotted her brother struggling to stand on two feet, leaning against the rubble of an empty carriage by the side of the road. He collapsed again. She panicked and increased the pace. She was about to reach him when the flames of the fiend drenched the road behind her. Fighters ran in all directions, taking cover. Ahna wanted to get to Thamias, but a burning beam of wood collapsed in her path, and the house to her left crumbled. Everything around her slowly collapsed. More flames erupted from the sky like raining stars. She turned around to check on the frontline by the drawbri
dge. She could not see Luthan, nor Cayne, nor Jules. Not even the magi from before.
The beast returned for another strike. Ahna ran in the opposite direction, desperately trying to think of a way to get to it. She saw Luthan beyond the drawbridge, making frantic waves with his hand to call her to him. They were by the gates of the castle, beyond the courtyard in ruins. But the fiend was headed there as well. She was not going to make it in time. It was about to blast its flames at the gates.
Ahna could not run anymore, it was too hard. She was out of breath. She knocked her foot against an uneven marble stone and tumbled over. She crashed, her elbows hitting the ground. The pain forced tears to cloud her vision. She raised her head, searching for the castle gates in her field of view. The void dragon flew right above her. The wind of its wings caressed her back. She closed her eyes, focusing on that feeling.
“Let me in,” the voice called. “Just like last time.”
“How...how am I supposed to do that?” Ahna murmured softly, her voice broken to shreds.
“Let go.”
Maybe those words made sense now. Ever since she had gotten here, in this place decades from where she should have been, Ahna had felt a weight on her shoulders too heavy to carry. A pain in her arm linked to her heart. She could release that pain in the form of the Arc of Light, feel the relief that this power enabled her to. But it had not been enough. Releasing it in bursts was like the emotional discharge of a brief moment of tears, but it did not relieve her of the pressure she felt.
Ahna understood the voice’s plea. She had locked herself within walls, hoping the pressure would go away on its own, but that was not it. She needed to open these walls. She needed to let it in and let go.
Tempest of Bravoure Page 27
