by JW Baccaro
He tried casting flames but it easily maneuvered around them. He blurrily saw his sword free falling just below and knew he must retrieve it to stand a chance, for any moment this thing may lunge for his throat. He straightened his body like a pin to increase speed and stretched forth his hand, the sword just a tip away. "Come on!" he urged, stretching as much as he could, his arm nearly going out of its socket; finally he grabbed the handle.
The bat-like creature, struggling to keep alongside him flew at his face, its disgusting mouth wide open dripping excessive saliva.
Just before Darshun might have lost his looks forever, he stabbed it directly through the mouth, the blade bursting out the other side of its head before withdrawing. Suddenly, a painful sting shocked Darshun's body as he plunged into water, sinking deep. Because of the great fall, he’d already become short of breath. He held out his arms, stopping himself from going any deeper, then made his way back up, soon breaking the surface, gasping for air. To catch his breath, he lightly treaded water and tried to calm down, not letting disparity take hold. Blackness loomed all around but he gathered to be in a lake, thankfully. For a moment, he believed it to be over. Curious as to the size of the lake, he raised his arms out of the water and cast two streams of flame, shooting them high into the air. The red light illuminated much, but no hope, for after forty feet or so, on either side, fog covered the lake. He hadn't a clue where he was or what to do.
All right Darshun, don't despair. This water goes somewhere. There must be a way out. There must be a shoreline.
Eerily, the water rippled beneath him, like something arising from the deep. Then atop the lake, about ten feet from where he treaded came loud splashes; he wasn’t alone. Whatever it was he decided not to hang around and find out. He began to swim the opposite direction, hoping to find shore and perhaps another trail—the moving water followed him. He stopped and so did it. He listened and not the slightest sound could be heard. Then, without warning, something grabbed onto his leg and pulled him under fast, the force incredible, going deeper and deeper.
It must be some type of lake-monster, having a large round head and burgundy skin, with white eyes glowing so vividly it was how Darshun was able to make out its shape in the first place. The creature also had eight long tentacles—one wrapped around his leg and then a second tentacle took his other leg. He couldn’t attack with fire because of being underwater and before he got the chance to strike with his sword, the lake monster coiled Darshun’s arms to his body, rendering him helpless.
The monster carried him under its head, revealing a large mouth that glowed blue in the dark; rows layered with sharp teeth, waiting to grind its prey to pieces. Struggling as hard as he could, using every available muscle within his arms, squirming and contesting, he finally freed his sword-hand and quickly began hacking away at the tentacles.
It cried out, a high shivering pitch and let go of him.
He swam up, nearly out of breath, but smashed his head against a layer of rock; in fact, layers of rocks were all around him in the darkness of water, he could feel them. The monster had pulled him so deep dragging him diagonally that he had no idea how he came to be in this tunnel. Neither did Darshun know which way he’d entered, worse yet, which way was out? Smashing against the rocks had disoriented him. Losing breath fast, he randomly chose a direction and swam as hard as he could, hoping to find an exit. Then, just when he couldn’t hold his breath another second without falling unconscious, he broke surface, finding himself in a little water hole no bigger than four or five feet in diameter. He grabbed onto the slimy rocks coughing and gasping for air and decided on resting a few minutes before moving on.
He thought about what other creatures might use this hole. For if it leads to that void of a lake, then something must use it as a passage. And who knows what else will swim up the underwater tunnel to feast on him? Surely, if monsters the size he just encountered live there, thousands of other creatures must too. He climbed out of the hole. Curious to his location, Darshun alit his aura, the fire smoothly traveling around his body.
"Another tunnel," he groused, growing tired of them. "Judging from that fall off the bridge I’m probably so far under this mountain with so many levels to now climb.” He sighed. “Why do I have to carry this curse?”
To reserve energy he withdrew the aura and everything went black. He couldn’t even see his own hand in front of his face. The torches were gone, backpack lost; all he had for light now would be his own fire aura. But that wouldn't last forever. He hadn't a clue where he was or how to get back on track. Then, to make matters worse, there came a grunting noise in the distance, and then another, and another. It sounded like a type of pig or boar.
Something is lurking.
He remained still for a few minutes, deciding what to do, then closed his eyes and focused his sense of hearing, so that his ears would be his eyes, just like Mirabel taught him to do many years ago. Without a sound, he began to walk forward griping his sword firmly, waiting for the grunting creatures to lash out at him; nothing happened—all was silent and he continued. Every so often, there'd be footsteps from behind. When Darshun stopped, so did the footsteps. He knew these ‘things’ were following him; he kept the sword handy and all senses alert.
A long time passed, probably two hours; Darshun felt thirsty. His canteen had been in the backpack that had gotten lost when he fell off the bridge and into the lake. He stopped for a rest anyway and his ears caught something up ahead, the sound of running water. Carefully, he went to it and discovered the water was rushing out of a rock wall and into a small stream.
"Thank Abidan," he said, falling to his knees, cupping the water into his hands to drink. It was crisp, cool, relaxed his throat and replenished his body. He splashed some across his sweaty face. Oddly, where he stood, being in the dark, the everlasting quiet for the time at least, seemed quite relaxing. He was almost getting used to being underground. One thing proved true, however deep in the mountain he’d gone, above all, the temperature faired well. Then, he began to think of hot sunny days in the middle of July, venturing through green forests, playing with the animals, perfecting Nasharin skills, sitting around bonfires having exciting conversations. The need to be out of Blackshrine started to creep into his soul once again!
I wonder how far this tunnel goes? It must lead somewhere. Ah, I have to hurry; the battle above is probably over with by now and—Kelarin! She could be dead! I know I can save her. But I haven’t any idea how much time has passed. Surely, it can’t be dusk yet, I’d think I would know if the Spell of Destruction hit. Time however is running out.
Suddenly the grunting noises began again. This time they came from above, behind, from the sides, in the far distance, everywhere! He set a hand over the sword, ready to unsheathe; the grunts stopped.
They followed me. Either that or they live within the walls of this mountain. But what are they?
Then the sound of something whistling through the air came at him fast, he ducked, it hit the wall sparking then fell to his feet. He reached down and felt a type of axe, the blade made out of stone. These things are targeting me! A few jumped into the stream and began walking to him. Darshun backed away from the water, the splashing stopped. Next, he heard the sound of a bowstring being pulled back, and then—set loose! He immediately moved aside as the arrow whizzed passed his ear. He ran; the creatures chased him, splashing through the water he stopped to draw his sword, their footsteps stopped as well. All went silent just like before.
They're following my movements, which means…they can see me! Whatever is present, they have the ability to see in the dark, and are toying with me. I cannot wait for them to draw first blood.
With a quick burst of energy he transformed, the red aura lighting up the surrounding areas. The strange creatures jumped back, screaming, startled from the flash; he was surprised at their form. They stood about five to six feet tall, muscular, scaly gray skin, long scraggly black hair and pointed ears. But they had no visible e
yes or eye sockets, just wrinkly gray flesh. They relied on their ears and sense of smell, clearly adapted to darkness. They attacked together, some swinging their axes, others shooting arrows or attacking with bare hands. None however could land a blow.
Darshun was fast, careful, flawless, and killed everyone approaching him, taking some out with fast lethal kicks or brutal punches, others by the sword; bodies spewed along the ground and in the stream. Their fighting style was unwise, primitive and barbaric.
On the other hand, their numbers were many and that was their advantage.
They kept coming. Darshun knew he would eventually get worn out, and there was no use in fighting these things all day, so he turned and ran. The creatures followed after him, grunting and growling like sickly beings. He came to a fork split among the tunnel and ran into the passageway on the left. Carelessly did he step onto it, and slipped on a slimy substance, landing on his tailbone, sliding about twenty feet down a slope until plunging into a pool of water.
Swimming to shore, raising energy to look around, he found himself in a large circular room surrounded by dozens of additional corridors along the walls. One of them perhaps leading back on course. Before making a decision, he heard the creatures again, this time coming from within the passages. They charged out in high numbers, at least a hundred, storming down from even the highest tunnels at the cavern’s roof. Sword in hand, he fought them off one by one, hacking away left and right, dismembered parts beginning to mound.
“I can’t let this go on much longer!” he said, cutting down another, the smell of their sheared flesh horrible.
To make matters worse, other creatures began to come out of the holes, some were recognizable such as Bugbears, though slightly deformed, Mountain Trolls, Goblins and others he’d never seen before. Creatures came with ant-like faces, red skin, long oval bodies with four arms—each hand holding a different weapon, one a sword, another a shield, the next a spear and the last an axe; it also stood on two legs. There were serpent-like humanoid creatures that had the face of Man, two human-like arms, green scaly skin, and the body of a snake. They had no legs but their muscular lower halves’ pushed them erect; they moved quickly across the ground wielding long swords. There were also other—things too grotesque to describe, as was their stench.
It seemed like he’d entered a world of pure evil, and everything wanted to kill him!
“These creatures must have been called together by that Gargoyle for one purpose—my destruction. Very well then, they want a fight, I’ll give them a fight.”
All heathens gathered around, hissing, growling, screeching and grunting. Then, just as they were about attack, Darshun ascended, a blue flash blinding them temporary, and while they ran frantically to and fro, Darshun meditated, feeling out their energies, calming his spirit and preparing for the battle. Everything Mirabel taught him, every scrap of training he'd done on his own was perhaps for this moment, for there would be no escaping them but only to go through them, and what a mass of vile filth it would be.
Darshun opened his eyes and like a sudden storm, he unleashed his Nasharin might, casting streams upon streams of blue fire, setting a multitude to flames.
In panic, the enflamed creatures aimlessly ran into others, setting them ablaze too.
Then, with eyes of righteous fury, Darshun attacked with the sword and cut down every dark beast that challenged him, shouting aloud at every kill. Heads split in two, chests burst opened, bodies cut in half at the torso. It wasn’t only a fire zone, but a blood bath and the creatures never feared a being as much, not even their Lord Abaddon.
True the battle faired well for Darshun, however, because of the amount of energy he was using the wisest among these creatures knew he couldn't last much longer and so continued attacking. To make matters increasingly difficult, additional creatures were still coming from afar and freshly joining the battle.
“I have to get out of here,” Darshun said, realizing this fact. After casting two more streams of flames to bide him time, he stormed to the wall and began climbing, quickly but carefully gripping the jagged rocks.
Many pursued, some still descending from above, but those who got close received a flash of the blade in their last moments.
No matter how tired and sore Darshun's arms were, he wasn't going to die here. He reached the top hole and glanced in the corridor, making sure it was barren of enemies. Then, using what energy available, he formed the Firestar—the blistering blue sphere hovered just below the cavern's roof, shining beautifully. He gazed down at the multitude storming up after him, hissing and snarling, wanting the Nasharin’s head.
Darshun released the attack, then ran into the tunnel. The explosion shook that side of the mountain and the force blew Darshun off his feet and threw him forward, crashing and rolling along the passageway, debris and remnants of blue fire struck his body also. Had he not been in Ascension, the aftereffect would have surely taken his life.
He lay still, the settling of the rubble echoing in the distance. His body hurt, his head, and hand especially. Then coming to his senses, he stood up realizing his location. He’d been blown out of that corridor and into another, with three additional passageways behind him, beginning down a slope extending wide. Four tunnels altogether, each having toils and snares—each most likely leading somewhere different.
Frustrated but not broken, he thought about what to do. Then the pain in his hand became too much to ignore, for he hadn't yet looked at it due to curiosity of location. It throbbed severely, and there was a large gash through his palm from a sharp rock he must have struck while tumbling. A lot of blood had already poured out, more than he should have lost. He saw something striking. To be sure, he forced a little more energy to illuminate the area. His hand had been resting where the slope began, possessing many little gaps in the rock leading downward. Amazingly, his blood trickled into only three and flowed down them like a river, each leading to three of the four passageways. He remembered the words of Kelarin:
"As blood fills into the cracks of the earth, watch where it flows. Go the opposite way."
Kelarin had foreseen this. In fact, taking one of these passages may have been what contributed to Darshun's death in one of the possible futures she’d spoken to him about. No, he hadn’t forgotten, not this time. Whatever the case, he felt certain death awaited him down all three, and he wasn’t about to doubt the sweetest most humble creature he’d ever known.
The fourth tunnel, the passage before him would be the one that leads back on course. He felt sure of it. First, he needed to make a bandage for his hand, which hadn't ceased from throbbing. Tearing off a piece of his cloak, tying it around the palm he whispered, "Please, may I not encounter any more enemies along the journey. With no food or water, and a wounded body, I have barely enough strength to make it to the altar. And to reserve what little energy is left, I must make the rest of this adventure in absolute darkness." His aura faded, and after taking a minute or two of rest, he stood up, gathered a deep breath, held onto his necklace—believing Abidan and Mirabel were standing by his side, and began the quest once again.
CHAPTER FIVE
UNITED ALLIANCES
The battle between the two armies raged on for hours. There were times when the fighting became heavy, brutal, and there were times when it died down a little with both the Light and Dark retreating to their side of the field to recuperate. Thousands lay dead, good and evil, their bodies scattered across Milrotha. Even the unholy Nightwings, invisible to most, had fallen from the holy arrows of the Aryeh.
Neither army could drive the other back and so—the fighting remained constant.
King Damacoles rather enjoyed the whole ordeal, and as of yet, he remained out of the battle. The time was coming when they would witness his strength, so he thought, laughing to himself, his comrades thinking him mad, playing mere games with the enemy.
Then a storm began to brew in the sky; gray clouds settled in, strong winds blew and heavy rainfall, lightning
, roaring thunder—out of the clouds came the beast of the High Wizard, the Wyvern. Its roar sounded like a dozen bulls in a dire frenzy, Levieth riding upon its back, holding his staff into the air. He cast lightning down at the Men, the Elves and Dwarves, causing the earth to open up, swallowing hundreds to their deaths.
The Dark cheered him on and were inspired to fight stronger, soon taking control of the field. This was the moment Olchemy had been waiting for; this is why he hadn’t yet entered the battle. “To the sky!” he commanded Uriel.
With great speed, they flew up to the High Wizard.
Levieth had been expecting him to come, but hadn't any idea his son's form would be different. "Not only are you clothed in white, your eyes reveal change. Like I, you have become a High Wizard."
"Not like you, father. I am a High Wizard to the Light. I serve Abidan. That alone sets us apart greatly."
Levieth laughed.
"On this day, the Demon you serve shall be no more and you will be without honor."
"Save your foolish words," he ordered, then shot a bolt of lightning at him.
Olchemy was quick to call forth a shield, vaporizing the attack.
Then Levieth raised his voice to the heavens, chanting words in the Demonic tongue and in the wind along with rain—fell streams of pale green acid, as though one had opened up a toxic window in the sky.
Olchemy countered by casting a white light no thicker than a needle point, shooting up out of his staff then spreading out like a great white lake of purity in the heavens. As the acid passed through, it not only caused the ‘lake’ to shine like a rainbow, omitting such wondrous rays of light which those below witnessed, but the contents of the acid changed over to water.
Levieth remained puzzled at this power.
"This is what one can accomplish when belonging to the Light," Olchemy said, remembering similar words spoken by Levieth when they last fought and his black serpent destroyed Olchemy’s Spirit Shield. "For you, a Wizard, it is useless to attack me with demonic spells. It weakens your own power. Do the proper thing, return to us."
