by Kyle J Cisco
“You will find your confidence, young Virgil. Before this war ends, you will find it. But first one must trust in the Light; then one can truly believe in one’s own abilities.”
Looking up at Dvorak’s brilliant face, Virgil nodded and returned his gaze to the floor once more.
“Do not despair of those whom you have lost. They shall always be with you.”
“But I’m alone! How can I stop them from raising the army of evil that lies here? When I had Rex, at least we had a chance. Now even Natasha’s been taken.”
“The level of success you achieve is up to you. Only you know what failures you can and cannot live with. I see a great many things in you that remind me of how I was in my youth. I did not set out to become a hero when I retook the lands claimed by the Shadow north of the pass. I did it to free our people from oppression and fear. Every day, they waited for the next raiding party that would burn and pillage their homes and crops.”
Sorrow tinged Dvorak’s voice.
“We alone choose our destiny, Virgil, but our fate is laid out for us well before we emerge from the womb. All we can do is follow our path and hold on to hope that humanity will someday realize that our sacrifices were made to provide a better existence for all.”
Dvorak turned from Virgil, and as he did, the blinding light returned once more.
“Before I go . . . there is one more thing that you must know. Your blood is much closer to mine then you know, Virgil. I had an heir to the Covenant of Man, and he had a son who had sons. Virgil, you are the last of my line. You alone are the heir of the Covenant if you wish it.”
Dvorak headed off toward the light, and once he reached the precipice, he turned once more.
“May the Light guide you to triumph. You are the Light bringer, Virgil, and you will bring light to the dark places of the world. Do not give up hope. Our people need you now more than ever.”
Then he crossed into the searing light, and the room fell back into darkness. Virgil knelt once more, thinking over the revelations given to him in that brief moment.
Virgil headed back to the locked door. Clasping his hand together, he called on the Light and could feel the power rising within him. But when he opened his eyes again, it was red energy, not white, that coursed around his hands. Reaching out with one hand, he touched the oaken door, and the wood hummed and shuddered to ash.
Virgil stepped through the gaping doorway, holding up his pendant to make some light as he made his way through the maze of corridors that headed to the upper levels of the underground structure. Pushing up the hatch at the top of a ladder, he knew he was on the right path when he found the repeating crossbow Natasha favored so. He slung it over his shoulder, for she would need it when he came to rescue her. Looking out from the hatch, it was clear he was not going to make it to where she was being held without a fight. Across the expanse of the room at the door on the opposite side of the hall stood two motionless specters. Virgil flung the hatch open and jumped out from the hole in the ground. The specters turned to face him and rushed forward, swords drawn.
But Virgil was not interested in fighting. Two red tendrils of energy lashed out, pushing both specters into the wall nearest the exit. With both hands raised, Virgil advanced toward the two foes, and upon reaching the door, closed both outstretched hands into a fist. Instantly the crunch of bones and organs crushing came from both figures as they were then released, slumping to the floor, leaving nothing behind but the cloaks they wore. Virgil kicked the door with such force, it slammed off the wall, snapping from the hinges. To Virgil’s surprise, the corridor beyond was empty. Why were the specters guarding an empty hall?
In fact, there were not many other guards in any of the corridors he passed through. Virgil quickly felled the next one he found, but decided it was too quiet. Something was happening. He heard nothing but the occasional echoing goblin howl. He hurried on.
At the end of the corridor stood an iron door left open. An invitation, it seemed. The chamber beyond was filled with crates and torture devices covered in the dried blood of guests long past. In the center of the room hung several cages, some suspended from the ceiling, and those not hung sat idle on the ground with doors open, ready to receive guests of their own.
Virgil moved slowly around the outskirts of the chamber. The hair on the back of his neck prickled; something was near. Pulling himself into the shadows, he observed a group of specters arrive from the opposite end of the room, dragging a limp body to a cage that had been lowered to the ground. The specters tossed Natasha inside. She crumpled to the floor, bloody and beaten.
Time was of the essence, but Virgil knew going in blind would do her no good if he was killed or captured himself. So moving through the shadows of the room, he noted the goblins standing around as well as the two specters who had dumped Natasha into the cage so carelessly.
A goblin started cranking a wheel and the chains attached to the cage went taunt. Other goblins reluctantly locked the door, slobbering at the scent of Natasha’s blood. Virgil’s blood boiled at the sight. The wheel creaked and the cage shifted into the air.
Now was the time to act. He had gathered as much information as he could, and it was time to put his plan into action. Virgil hoped they were not as highly skilled as the Shadow Ripper had been, but that was a chance he would have to take to save her life.
17
From the shadows, he stepped up behind the nearest goblin and drove the knife into its windpipe before it could make a sound. The creature’s thick black blood soaked the front of Virgil’s armor, and with one final savage twist, he snapped the goblin’s neck, ending its death twitches. A nearby goblin turned in reaction to the sound of the spine snapping, and as he opened his mouth, Virgil threw the dagger into the windpipe of the other guard. Virgil hurried and caught the falling guard before his body made any sound, laying him gently on the floor.
Moving through the holding area was easy. There were plenty of empty crates and piles of torture devices around that made his advance on the cage easy. Arriving to within a few feet of the cage, he could see both of the specters on the far side of the cage waiting as the goblin continued to crank the cage upward. Natasha still hadn’t moved from where she lay.
Worry flowed over him. Was she dead? Was this whole thing might be a trap to see if he would come to her rescue? Pushing those thoughts aside, he drew Natasha’s crossbow and fired on the three remaining goblins. Bolts thumped through their foreheads and they each toppled over, dead. Natasha’s cage crashed to the ground. Both specters turned, and Virgil dropped the crossbow and whipped out the mace in his right hand and his ax in his left. Clearing his mind, he focused on the glitter of hope that Natasha was yet alive. Using that hope, he ignited the ax in red energy and the mace in a burning white energy. Not sure how he was splitting the power in this way, he strode out of the shadows to face his quarry.
“You would be wise to release her. Or I will release you back to the shadows from whence you came.”
Natasha’s face lifted from the ground, allowing Virgil to see the full extent of the damage done to her. Black outlined both eyes and her nose looked broken. But she was alive. Virgil focused on the specters who circled the cage toward him from opposite sides.
The first specter came in for an overhead blow with his rusted sword. Virgil parried the blow with a smash of his mace that sent the sword spinning away. Virgil slashed at the specter’s hood with his ax, but the foe stepped back and the ax whistled by his face. Virgil brought his right hand down and the mace crashed into the specter’s arm, ripping deep gashes.
Footsteps. Virgil dropped his shoulder and rammed the oncoming second specter and shoved him into the bars of the cage. The foe struck out with his fist, making contact with Virgil’s jaw. He staggered back a step or two and dropped his ax. Sensing the other enemy rising behind him, he swung the mace over his shoulder and intercepted a blow that would have struck his back. Whipping out the combat dagger from the sheath at his hip, he hurled
the dagger at the hood in front of him. The specter dropped and faded into nothing but the cloak on the ground.
The wounded specter got his balance back and charging at Virgil again. Virgil dodged the thrust of the sword in the specter’s hand but the gauntleted fist that came after caught Virgil once more, this time with such force it knocked at least one tooth wandering through Virgil’s mouth.
Virgil spit, expelling the tooth and a stream of dark red blood from his mouth. The specter gripped his sword, his smashed left shoulder hanging limp. Virgil and his foe circled each other, waiting for the right moment to strike, seeing what the other was about to do. Virgil began to tire of these games. He lifted a hand, sending a red tendril hurtling toward the shadow but it was blocked by a barrier of thick black energy the completely shrouded the specter.
The specter leaped from off to the left, managing to get a glancing thrust on Virgil’s left side. Cold steel pierced his body, followed by the warmth of blood flowing from the fresh wound. Releasing a blast of pure red energy in a ferocious roar, Virgil sent the specter flying back against the cage, dropping it on its ass. Moving with speed enhanced by the light energy he wielded, he charged in for the final blow. The mace grasped in his right hand glowed red with rage. He swung down with a savage blow that the specter tried to parry, but once the pulsing red energy of the mace came in contact with the sword, it shattered into thousands of pieces, and the wet sound of the skull beneath the hood being crushed echoed throughout the room. Blood mixed with the gray bits splattered on the ground.
Virgil made his way toward the door of the cage. He drew the mace, energized it with light energy, and hacked at the lock, shattering it with one hit. “Glad to see me?” He already knew the answer but had to ask anyway. Lending Natasha a hand to get off the ground, they headed back toward the door.
“We must hurry,” she said with a groan. “Xavier is about to start the ritual. The cavern is through those doors. It leads to a corridor infested with goblins and a hall where three more specters wait alongside the Shadow Ripper. They’ll be ready for you. Once we make it there, we must get into the cavern where the remains of the ancient army lie.”
Virgil looked at Natasha in surprise at her ability to remember all of that while being half-conscious.
“Well, so much for stopping the ritual being the easy part of this mission, right?” Winking at her with a smile, he tried to hide his trepidation at the thought of facing both the Shadow Ripper and Xavier after having to best a horde of minions first. “Let’s head out then.”
Setting out once more toward the cavern, the first corridor they entered was empty for the most part, except for two guards that Natasha dispatched easily with her repeating crossbow. Virgil peeked out from around the corner of the corridor and saw a pink bulbous creature that looked half-slug, half-glutinous human. It did not see Virgil but turned toward the bend, picking up a scent of the humans.
Natasha loaded another bolt into her crossbow and rounded the corner. As she fired, it struck the creature in the chest. Its high-pitched squeal alerted the rest of the goblins in the corridor to their presence. Virgil darted around the corner with both ax and mace grasped in his hands, attempting to run past the slug demon. When he neared it, he took a savage slash at its head, severing the head partially from the spine. The creature’s head still hung by some of the tendons, looking back at where Virgil now laid into a pack of goblins.
Natasha was close behind and began to fire over Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil, on the other hand, made his way through the minions. A blast of red energy rocked the corridor and completely obliterated all ten of the warriors in front of him. Virgil cut swathes through the ranks of the unorganized goblins before him and headed for the opening.
“Ya took me men down.”
Before them stood the hideous goblin captain. As large as any dweller elf, this goblin drew a crudely crafted blade of iron. Its misshapen look told of the meager skills and supplies of the goblin hordes. The captain raised his blade and pointed it at Virgil before swinging it to slice the incoming bolt from Natasha’s crossbow in half.
Charging forward, the goblin captain deflected another incoming bolt and slashed in a looping motion at Virgil’s head. He ducked low, then leaped with a swing of his ax, using the mace to tie up the goblin’s sword. But the goblin captain was well aware of these tactics. He slipped past the ax blow and kicked Virgil’s gut, staggering him a step or two back.
Virgil returned with another blow with the mace, catching it on the goblin’s sword blade. The captain parried hard, and spinning low with a kick, he took the legs out from under Virgil. Falling to the ground, he rolled away from the captain. Before jumping to his feet, a sword blow crashed to his right. Then came the cries of pain and anger from the foe. A bolt stuck out of the captain’s unarmored collar bone. The gap in the armor was small but noticeable to the trained eye of a ranger.
Virgil jumped to his feet and ran at the captain, parrying blow after blow. He slammed the captain into the wall and dropped him to the floor. Virgil came in for the coup de grace, but was late—he almost ran into the outstretched sword of his enemy.
Virgil dodged the thrust from his opponent and landed a hit, swiping the goblin’s head from his shoulders. The goblin’s face went blank, dropping to the floor of the corridor.
In the heat of the moment, Virgil continued in his rage, landing blow after blow on the head of the already dead goblin captain. The captain’s face was split wide-open, exposing the inner cavity of his skull. Something pulling on Virgil’s shoulder from behind; spinning on his heel, he brought up the ax but stopped himself, realizing it was Natasha. Virgil looked at the goblin and back at Natasha.
“I don’t know what came over me,” Virgil said apologetically, but the look on Natasha’s face said she wasn’t sure she wanted to say what she had to.
“Virgil, you are starting to lose control of the Light. I have noticed it since your magic turned red. It’s like you are being consumed by rage after Jack died.”
Virgil gave her a disgusted look, opening his mouth to refute the comment, then decided against it. “We need to keep moving. We have a ritual to stop.”
Turning his back on her, he headed down the corridor. They made their way to the doors that would lead them into the hall where the Shadow Ripper and specters waited.
“We need to take out at least one immediately. Then you face the last, and I can take Shadow Ripper until you join me. Then we finish him.”
Natasha nodded.
The door creaked open, but the dull sound was lost in the hubbub of the room packed with goblins. Virgil sighed. More goblins. They must be dealt with first and foremost. He wouldn’t want to get surrounded while in combat with specters. Readying his weapons, he raced silently across the stone floor. He slid into the middle of the group of the goblins, spinning his battle-ax and mace at throat-level, felling goblins in a wide circle. Then he reached out with a tendril of energy, grabbed another, and hurled him into the oncoming group.
Natasha slung the empty crossbow onto her back and burst into the combat. She jumped off the base of one of the pillars, taking down two more simultaneously with both of her daggers, severing the spinal column of each goblin.
Meanwhile Virgil ducked a lazy swing from a cleaver and lopped the goblin’s arm off, bringing forth a stream of black blood that coated the white stone flooring of the hall. He stepped to the side and a bolt flew past, striking the head of his goblin opponent. Spinning around, Virgil caught another blade with his mace and sent the creature flying with another blast of kinetic energy, throwing it into more oncoming enemies. He shifted his focus to the Shadow Ripper who waited by an ornate door at the end of the grand hall.
“Ripper! I’ve come to finish our duel.”
The Shadow Ripper only replied with a slight nod but did not move once the challenge was accepted. This was the opening they needed. Virgil lashed out with a tendril and dragged the specter to within feet of him before the specter broke
the tendril with his own meager magic. Virgil ran in, sliding under the incoming blow, and caught the specter with the ax to the back of his leg, bringing him down. Leaping up, he shifted and slammed the glowing red mace into the figure’s hood. A wet crunch and then the cloak collapsed.
Making their way through the remaining goblins was easy for Natasha and Virgil. When the last was slain by Natasha’s dagger, Virgil approached the steps to where the last specter and the Shadow Ripper stood protecting the door.
18
Virgil strode toward the Shadow Ripper, hefting his ax one hand and his mace in the other. Noticing that Natasha was a bit slower than him to arrive, he raised his ax and pointed at the Shadow Ripper.
The fire in Virgil’s eyes could have seared a hole into any mortal man’s heart, but the demon simply stepped forward, and replied, “Willingly. Today shall be your last day. My master will be pleased and so will I to add your head to my collection.”
The Ripper flung off his cloak to reveal a tangle of heads dangling like wind chimes. Virgil looked in horror as he recognized all of the faces. Popavich, Jack, and Miko. Blood dotted the floor, dripping from arteries of the freshly cut heads. A burning rage stoked in Virgil; he grasped his weapons so tight he was afraid the handles would snap.
“Ah, I see you notice your friends.” The words escaped through decaying teeth, his lipless mouth moving in an exaggerated manner every time the Ripper spoke. Virgil now noticed the Ripper was not a specter after all; he was something different, a demon perhaps.
“I do not fear you, demon!” Virgil said, stalling a bit to take stock of the Ripper’s armor. It was of the same make as Xavier’s and with the same coloring. The difference between the two, other than the lipless mouth, was the fact that it looked almost as if the demon wore an upside-down crown on his skull, with the spires of the crown shielding the Ripper’s eyes.
