Knight Fire (The Champion Chronicles Book 4)

by Brad Clark

  The moment Hargon and his protective force took their spot at the head of the army, the drumbeat suddenly stopped. Two heartbeats later, each goblin rose up onto their toes and screamed, waving their hands high into the air. Then they charged.

  The screams of the goblin horde froze Hargon. The sight of them was mesmerizing, and he couldn't shake himself to action. It was only when Kern started screaming at him that he broke from his trance.

  The first fireball appeared in his hands, and he tossed it straight at a pack of goblins that were outdistancing themselves from others. One goblin fell, and the rest were killed by longbows fired from archers standing at the front of the army. But thousands more were there to fill their place.

  Another fireball was tossed, and then another, and then he suddenly realized how to make the fireballs larger so instead of striking one, the fireballs struck five or more at once. As they were struck, the goblins kept running, their skin on fire until they could no longer handle the pain and then they fell to the ground to be trampled to death by their fellow goblins who were directly behind them.

  With each toss, Hargon could feel the slow and steady drain of power. He had no idea how long it would be until he could no longer use magic, but it would be inevitable that he would have to stop. But along with the steady drain of magic came an amazing surge of emotion and feeling of invincibility. He was powerful and the magic he could cast proved it. There was no man alive that could stand up to him. He was the greatest warrior on the planet, and he was showing it off right here in front of the fabled Karmon Knights, who were once known as the greatest fighting force alive. That title now belonged to him.

  He felt each death as it happened and it made him almost gleeful. They were not human or even remotely close. There was no reason to feel sorrow or pity. There was only joy.

  As he heard their screams of death, it made him feel even more powerful. It drove him to cast faster and faster as the excitement of their deaths was a thrill that could never be outmatched.

  And then he realized he could hear them. He hadn't heard them when he first started tossing his fireballs, but now he heard them. He paused for a moment to see the sea of goblins was almost near. The Karmon army had started to move forward around him and his knights while he continued to toss his fireball spells. The goblin army was upon them, and he could hardly tell that he had fired off a single fireball. There was a solid sea of goblins all the way back to the forest line. His excitement flew away, and desperation replaced it.

  A shout from behind him startled him and caused him to flinch. The twang of hundreds of bows firing their arrows precipitated the hush of the arrows flying over his head. He ducked, even though the arrows were well above him. The front ranks of the goblins fell, but there were plenty more to take their place. The arrows continued to rain down upon the goblins as the two armies met.

  Hargon broke from his stunned state and changed from casting fireballs to lightening. They didn’t kill the goblins immediately, but it stunned them long enough to make it easy for the Karmons to quickly strike them down.

  Hargon did not have time to focus on the ferocity of the goblins, but he couldn't help himself. They jumped and leaped as they attacked, their claws and teeth their only weapons. They ripped and bit with little regard to their own lives, which didn't last long. Each Karmon soldier killed dozens of goblins each, and yet there were still more streaming from the forest.

  He found it amazing to see the goblins get slaughtered and know that he was responsible for it all. The power of life and death was intoxicating, and he was taking it all in with gulps. Even though he could feel the strength in him drain, the excitement of killing kept him going. When seeing the goblins sizzle and get stung by lightning wasn’t enough to satisfy his hunger, he switched back to the fireballs so that he could be solely responsible for their deaths. His smile grew wider and wider as each goblin he targeted screamed in pain and fell to the ground, dead.

  Although the fireballs were good at killing goblins and the lightning strikes were doing their own damage as well, there was still something missing. It was as if their deaths weren’t enough anymore. It was almost too easy, and he'd need a bigger challenge to keep the emotions going. He had no idea how he was going to find them, or figure them out, but he knew that he would need bigger and stronger spells. Any simple spellcaster could toss a fireball, right? What about something bigger and more powerful that could destroy the whole army at once, or at least hundreds of them at once? If he could have that spell, then there would be no need for soldiers to die. He alone could stand up in battle and crush the opposing army with just a few words and the wave of a hand. He would surely be the most powerful man in the world!

  A flash of bodies to his right caused him to flinch and turn, which was fortunate otherwise he might have cast a fireball right into the midst of charging Karmon Knights. Atop their great warhorses, they plowed through the front ranks of the goblins. Using their swords to keep the goblins from attacking their horses, they left a trail of bloody and crushed goblin bodies.

  The Karmon army pushed forward, suddenly feeling like they were making progress. Hargon redoubled his efforts, even though he knew it would not be too long before his power ran out.

  The Karmon Knights charged again across the front ranks of the goblins, clearing away for the army to push forward and deeper into their ranks. Hargon wasn’t sure, but it seemed to him that the goblin horde wasn’t pushing forward as much as it had previously. He glanced up at the tree line, and sure enough, it didn’t seem as if there were many goblins pushing through.

  Hargon took a breather, and suddenly exhaustion hit him. His stomach was doing flips, and his head began to spin. Before he completely collapsed, he dropped to a knee and closed his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Kern demanded, suddenly appearing at his side.

  Hargon shook his head. A sudden sense of Deja Vu swept over him as he imagined himself back in his palace, his body filled with poison and his mind and body unable to work properly. He knew then that he had pushed too far, too fast. He lifted a hand, but it began to shake, and he had to put it down.

  “Well, fine time to give up!” Kern growled. He turned to those around him and cried out, “Knights! We’ve got them on the run! Push them forward!”

  Hargon opened his eyes long enough to see Kern jog forward towards the front line of goblins, swiping his sword left and right to clear a path. He wanted to stand and continue to fight, but he knew he couldn't. The very edge of his vision was blurry, and his body just did not feel right. For some reason, he knew that if he tried even just one more spell, he might black out and never wake up.

  He sat down on the ground, panting and breathing hard. His whole body started to shake now, and he knew that something was not right with it. An insatiable hunger came over him and then sweat poured down from his forehead, the salt stinging his eyes. He could not understand what was wrong. He knew the dangers of pushing too hard, too fast, but he was certain that he had been careful enough.

  He looked around him, and there were only dead bodies. The army had pushed forward well passed him, slaughtering goblins mercilessly as they moved. He took little solace in their impending victory as he was too worn out to assist with the final surge. Although he ached to get back into battle and to continue the slaughter, a self-preservation mode had kicked to tell him that to push further meant certain death. For once in his life, he listened to his body.

  Slowly, he began to recover. The waves of nausea passed, and his hands stopped shaking. Strength returned to his legs, and he thought that he could stand, but there seemed no good reason to. The fighting had moved away and would soon be over unless the goblins decided to continue fighting until every last one of them was killed. Sitting around dead bodies was not entirely appealing, but it was better than getting up and moving. Just a few more minutes of rest would give him enough to make it back to the command tent.

  One of the fallen knights suddenly sat up. He had a big kn
ot on the side of the head after taking a stone across the temple. A thin trail of blood dripped down the side of his face. His eyes were glassy, and he stumbled as he stood. He started to look around for his sword, but he simply spun in circles, looking for a weapon that was probably not anywhere near him.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught more movement. A dead body moved, which caused his heart to leap. The body simply flipped over to reveal another body underneath. But this one wasn’t armored, it had greenish-black skin and long, thin arms. The goblin pushed itself up and looked at Hargon and then at the knight. Hargon was farther away. The goblin licked its lips.

  He wanted to lift a hand to help, but there was nothing he could do. If he even tried to cast a spell, it would certainly kill him. At least he thought it would. It's what he felt would happen.

  The goblin slowly moved towards the knight, who remained oblivious to everything around him. The blow to his head had been vicious and kept him from thinking or seeing clearly. Hargon tried to shout out, but the words got stuck in his throat. He tried to clear it to talk, but nothing would come out.

  But he wasn't the only one to see what was about to happen. From some distance away, Kern had turned to look back towards him and immediately saw the danger. He even shouted out a warning, but the doomed knight remained oblivious.

  As the goblin slowly neared the knight, Kern’s face turned red, and he shouted directly at Hargon to kill the goblin. But Hargon couldn’t. If he did, he might not survive. He couldn’t risk it and felt sorry for the poor knight who had survived the battle, but one more knight wouldn’t survive the day.

  Kern screamed one more time at Hargon, but the former Taran Emperor could only shake his head. He really wished he could help. The goblin was only a couple yards away when Kern let out a scream and sprinted towards the doomed knight and goblin. But he was not quite fast enough.

  The goblin launched itself at the unsuspecting knight, its clawed hands extended and teeth bared. It was not a huge creature and landed on the back of the knight, who stumbled for a moment, not realizing what was happening. Before he could think about defending himself, the goblin used its talons to slice every inch of skin on the knight’s face and neck. Large arteries were cut, and blood streamed out. The knight screamed and tried to throw the creature off of its back, but the creature clung on with teeth and talons.

  Kern arrived just as the knight dropped to the ground, dead. With one slice, Kern swung his great broadsword in a wide arc and cut the creature’s head off. The head rolled far away.

  With burning anger in his eyes, Kern turned towards Hargon. “You let him die!” Kern screamed. “You could have saved him! You let him die!”

  Hargon slowly shook his head. He wished he could explain, but he could not. Regardless, any explanation would fall on deaf ears. With what little strength he had left, he slowly stood and stumbled over to the fallen knight.

  Kern grabbed him and shook him. With his face just inches away, he screamed, “You let him die!”

  With a voice barely audible, he replied. “I have nothing left. I could not. I am sorry.”

  Kern gave Hargon a push and released his grasp on him. “What good are you anyway, if we can’t count on you when we really need you?”

  Hargon looked down at the dead knight. He lay in a large pool of blood, his face torn to shreds. In any other circumstance, he would have been unable to even look at the man. It was almost a weird fascination that he even kept looking down. What was left of his face was ashen white, and his eyes were open, just like Conner’s were when he had seen him on the pile of dead bodies. The tips of both fingertips tingled. He dropped to his knees and stood over the fallen knight.

  “Get away from him!” Kern shouted back. He had started to walk away, but when he saw what Hargon was doing, he turned back.

  Hargon ignored Kern and muttered, “I can save him.”

  With three long strides, Kern grabbed Hargon’s loose robe and was about to pull him to his feet.

  Hargon turned his head, his eyes strong and a blaze with intensity. With strength in a voice he thought he had lost, he shouted back, “I can save him!”

  The ferocity of Hargon’s words surprised Kern, and he let go. He took a step back, and Hargon turned back to the dead knight. He leaned forward, his fingertips burning with anticipation. He touched them to the man’s neck knowing that the power that was needed was too great. There was nothing left in him, and the last of it would kill him.

  The power of the Web of Magic flowed through him once again. But this time, it was different. There was no spell to direct the power, there was only pure raw power coming from the web. It filled his whole body, reinvigorating his muscles and his brain. As his head cleared, he focused on directing that power into the dead knight. Never before had he felt the power as strong as he did now. Even when he gave life back into Conner, the power was not this strong, this pure. He gasped with not only the power that came into him but the pleasure as well. As much as the power of death was intoxicating, the power of life was even more so. Never before in his life had he cried because of joy, but now the tears flowed. Life came back into the knight. His face was healed by the power of the web but through Hargon. It would never occur to him how silly he looked, tears streaming down his face while the knight underneath him was healed. With a final burst, a surge of the magic power exploded through him, and he let out a cry of joy.

  And then the knight sprung up, eyes clear and bright.

  Hargon fell to the ground crying with exhaustion and joy. A feeling beyond anything he could comprehend had come over him and he didn’t know how to process those feelings. But it was something he wanted back.

  He suddenly sat up and looked at another dead body next to him. Before he could think about what he was doing, he leaned over and touched his hands to that man’s skin. Again, the pure power of healing swept through him. He had healed many creatures before and had healed Conner, too. But a feeling this powerful had never come over him. He could not explain it, but he did not care. He just knew he couldn't get enough of it.

  It was only when Lord Kirwal put his hand on his shoulder that he stopped. He felt weak, and his hands shook. He had no idea how long he had been healing or how many he had healed. The sun had moved quite a bit and was now threatening to fall below the horizon.

  “Hargon,” Lord Kirwal said. “You have done all you can do.”

  With a sharp shake of his head, he replied, “No there are more!”

  Lord Kirwal held firmly onto his shoulder and kept him from moving away. “There are many dead, but many more alive because of you. But we must get moving towards the mountains. The goblins will rebuild their strength and we need to be at Neffenmark Castle before they attack us again.”

  “But there are many still dead!”

  “And if we don’t get moving, then we will be as well. Our army survived this battle because of you. Hundreds of knights and thousands of my people owe their lives to you. But it is time to go.”

  Hargon’s mind was fuzzy from exhaustion, but it seemed that Lord Kirwal’s words were wise. With a long, hefty sigh, he asked. “Neffenmark Castle will be safe?”

  “It is the strongest castle in the kingdom. It will be safe.”

  Hargon took a last look across the battlefield that was littered with thousands of goblins and hundreds of dead Karmons. “Lead on, then.”

  ***

  Gregarious walked out from under cover of the trees at the edge of the forest. His white skin had darkened and his arms and hands reformed themselves to look more human. A dark gray cloak was draped over his shoulders, and the hood was pulled up over his bald head. Around him were burnt carcasses, faces twisted frozen as they had died a painful and agonizing death. Some of the bodies he stepped over, others were clumped together, and he had to walk around them. Down the gentle slope towards the city were more bodies. Many of those had fallen for the same reason, but many others were dead from arrows. It had been a slaughter, which he expec
ted. But what he did not expect were the piles of carcasses near the city and the burned bodies.

  At first, he had thought that the humans had tossed the goblin bodies into piles, but as he got closer, he realized that is how they had died. While climbing over one another to reach the Human army, they had died from arrow, sword, and whatever had burned them.

  He was most concerned about the burned bodies. That implied that a spell caster was among the Humans. The Deceiver had not mentioned any of them being around, and that would certainly change battle strategies.

  A goblin body moved and let out a groan. The Humans had abandoned the city quickly and had not cleaned up the battlefield. With a firm strike, he kicked the goblin in the face, sending it rolling over, finishing the job the Human army had started. He felt no sympathy or gave any thought to the goblin’s life. They were simply tools to an end. There was almost an infinite supply of them, and he would use them all up if he had to.

  At the edge of the city, he looked upon its emptiness. The river that cut through its center flowed in silence, bringing water from the mountains, through the forest, and then dumping into the seas next to the city where the Deceiver had constructed his tower. Gregarius’ eyes looked north to see the tall peaks of the White Mountains. His next destination would be there. He felt no sense of the Ark of Life nearby. He did feel the remnants of the Human mage’s power as it had been cast upon the battlefield. The feeling was like an echo, an odd sensation that hung in the back of his mind. The tendrils of magic also seemed to drift to the north. The Humans were heading in that direction, too. Maybe they had found the Ark of Life and were taking it into hiding.

  Although he had hoped that his journey would end here at the city, the thought of going up into the mountains and killing humans was more than appealing. It had been eons since he had been in battle and his bloodlust for killing was slowly returning. Until he found the location of the Ark, he would have to be cautious. Of all that he had learned as a follower of the Deceiver, deception was the most important. If the Humans knew anything about the whereabouts of the Ark, getting them to just tell him would be much easier than trying to pull it out of their minds. The later would be much more fun, but he knew that the Deceiver did not have much patience. He would certainly have his fun, but first, he needed to serve his Master properly and find the Ark.