by JW Baccaro
There the Dark army stood, ready for a second charge. This time with the King and Queen at the front lines. The final battle seemed about to begin.
Mirabel looked over at Darshun. “Mortis-noir.”
Darshun remembered that phrase from childhood. His father was telling him ‘the code’ to fight in Transformation and how, “should death come, so be it,” just like at Zithel with Uncle Seth. Yes, it was time indeed to give the Dark a taste of its own medicine. “Mortis-noir Amenua,” he answered back.
Both transformed. Now all four Nasharins were in high-powered states, standing at the front lines. All were ready. King Loreus, Captain Mythaen, Caelestias, Favonius, Kaylis—every soul among the army shouted a war cry so loud, so fierce that it sent chills down the enemies’ spines. The second charge began, followed by another great clash.
While they fought at the front lines to break the Dark, Uriel and Olchemy attacked from the rear with fire and the Wizard’s mystic white gold beams.
Hundreds of arrows shot at Uriel, striking his upper chest and belly but could not penetrate through his dragon scales. However the more that struck, the weaker the scales would become. Olchemy intervened, using his new powers of telekinesis and hurled the arrows back at the original shooters, the same technique he’d witnessed Levieth attempt to the poor Giants and Titans only months ago. Then once the Light mixed within the entirety of the dark army, Olchemy and Uriel backed off, so as to not harm their own.
Although the battle appeared to be going good, Man and Elf casualties were stacking, especially by the sword of Tanarokai, the Soul Crusher. That is just what it did; no soldier of Light stood a chance. Not even a mere three seconds upon challenging him. With one swoop the Dark King either split his opponents in half or hacked off heads.
He must be stopped!
Caelestias, finishing off a handful of opponents, caught sight of Tanarokai. Sheathing sword and taking hold of his bow he charged toward him; with one last arrow Caelestias aimed for the King’s forehead and shot.
Tanarokai caught wind of this and amongst the last second, held up a shield and deflected it.
Caelestias redrew his sword.
“So the Prince of Ashhaven wants to challenge me,” Tanarokai sneered, laughing. Out of his eyes shot reddish-black beams.
Caelestias sprung left, easily dodging the destructive explosions.
He fired a second—third—fourth time but the elvish lord moved so fast, shifting like the wind that the Dark King could not land a hit and grew angry. Then as Caelestias began to charge, Tanarokai felt the presence of ‘allies’ beneath the ground, so close, scattered everywhere it was almost—too good to be true. By sorcery, he called them up—roots drifting from underground from mysterious ‘plants’ or as some have said, left over remains of ancient fallen gods. The tip of the roots being sharp as daggers, consumed with venom. Not only did they spring up piercing many among the Light and even the Dark, they also got Caelestias, one stabbing into his right heel, another through the middle of his left foot, traveling into the shin and upper calf.
The attack unexpected, excruciatingly painful and he smashed his face on the dirt.
“Another fool who thought he could defeat me,” Tanarokai boasted.
Unwilling to give up, Caelestias grabbed a hold of the ‘plants’ keeping him in place and cracked the stems in half. But by then, the poison had burrowed deep into his system causing paralysis. He fell still, barely conscious.
Now came the horror, Tanarokai raised the Soul Crusher high, the red energy and streaks of lightning once again surrounding it— his death move an unstoppable move no one ever withstood. Just like he’d done to the fleeing men at Zithel, he would now do to the Prince of Ashhaven, blow him to charred elvish pieces. The Dark King plunged the sword down, causing a sound of thunder, the ground split open with energy racing toward a helpless Caelestias.
This was it—the end.
Then just as it would have hit came a disturbance, an interception of another having a white glow. The chaotic explosion struck while all the force and destruction did not pass beyond this creature of blazing white.
Tanarokai stood dazed, in total bewilderment as to what was happening. Then he saw. “You?” he exclaimed, recognizing Mirabel from the siege of Zithel. “…Ha, Nasharin fool. I will do to you as I did to the other that day.”
Seth! Mirabel stood quiet, sword in hand, white lightning flashing around him; beautiful, fierce…His gaze ever on Tanarokai.
“You wish to fight me? I should warn you, never have I lost to your kind.” He summoned all the power he had, tightly gripping the Soul Crusher and approached the ‘opponent’ while overshadowing Mirabel’s presence. “Ready to die like your friend?”
Perfectly, as if it were written by fate, they attacked one another in precise unison. Except Mirabel’s clash sent a chilling pain throughout Tanarokai’s body casting him back. Then Mirabel attacked relentlessly and the Dark King, surprised and dreadfully afraid—for the first time in his life—could not keep up with the heavy blows of the fierce Nasharin; losing strength quickly he tried to step away and retreat but Mirabel remained ever so close, attacking without end. Left to right, side to side, up and down, blow after blow; never had the Dark King seen such flawless swordsmanship, such fury, clearly ascending his own skills. Tanarokai’s hands were stinging so much from the clashing of blades that he dropped his weapon and in a desperate attempt to block the next blow he held out a shield.
Mirabel shattered it with one thrust, then kicked the Soul Crusher back over to him. “Pick it up,” he ordered, sounding darker, perhaps a tad evil—like never before.
The Dark King, thinking him foolish, did not hesitate. “Spirits of the darken realms, I ask one favor, for all that I have done for you, return my strength, so I may defeat this warrior and give glory to the gods of darkness!” he shouted. Red lightning came down from the sky, striking the sword and converting into his body. It seemed his request had been granted, or perhaps it was a mere effect of the sword?
Mirabel felt unable to tell, except for the flashiness and wicked grin, Tanarokai seemed no different than a few moments prior to his prayer. Whatever the case, it did not matter. The Soul Crusher did have limits, while the sword of a Nasharin did not, for its strength was one with its wielder. For the next blow they exchanged, Mirabel shattered the Soul Crusher to pieces causing a radical explosion, which burned the King’s face rather terribly.
Shocked and mystified, Tanarokai stepped back, staggering.
“This is for Seth Caelen,” Mirabel stated and drove the sword through his chest, stabbing out his heart.
The Dark King of Asgoth collapsed at the Nasharin’s feet and finally, after three hundred years of chaos, cruelty and Rule, Tanarokai was dead.
Mirabel hurried over to aid Caelestias.
Through the mass of the fighting, Talvenya searched for Darshun. Being not hard to find, she waited patiently as the fiery Nasharin tore past each challenger, coming closer to her. She wanted to fight him alone, without distractions. So, she raised a hand into the air and created a swirl of green and red lights, causing many eyes, including Darshun’s, to look her way.
For the first time in so long they locked eyes.
The Queen turned in her chariot and began up the grassy hill, and as she hoped, the foolish Nasharin pursued. Favonius and a handful of men began to follow.
“No!” Darshun halted them. “I must do this alone. Fall back.”
“But Darshun…?” Favonius spoke.
“Fall back! She will only kill you.”
“Very well…” With obvious disappointment, they did as he commanded.
Darshun turned and continued his chase.
Except beyond the hill, he didn’t need to go further there she stood out of the chariot, awaiting him. As if she were trying to seduce, she slowly unraveled her long dark cloak and tossed it to the ground.
Darshun had to admit, Aurora as ‘Talvenya’ was gorgeous! Raven, white-streaked hai
r hung long and straight, swaying in a breeze while she wore a blue violet hemp halter top stringed up in front with black lace. A stylish purple loincloth strapped by a black leather belt and sheath, then to finish it all off, thigh-high black leather boots. It did seem difficult to tell whether she was here to attract, to be worshipped or to fight with as little weight as possible—not counting the boots with thick chunky heels—always Talvenya’s favorite feature, her boots a sign of power, authority and where all others less fit should be at…on their knees before them, kissing the soles.
No! Not this time. Darshun felt enough was enough and it would end now. “Greetings ‘Queen,’ ” he taunted in a somewhat mocking tone.
“Greetings. I've missed you dearly.”
“I bet.”
She eyed him from head to toe, admiring his flashy hair, red eyes and gem-like fire opal skin. “Mmmm, I will say, you really are a magnificent one, especially in your Transformation. I debate whether to kill you or make you my pet—once again.”
“Talvenya, on this day your dominance is finished! Asgoth is no more.”
“Oh, what mighty ‘heroic’ words. Tell me, am I supposed to fear you?”
“To not would be mad. Your King is dead, your army vanquished.”
“Understand something Darshun…I care not about Asgoth, not any more. The only care in this world I ever truly cherished you took away, my son Sicarius!”
Remembering the event, he said, “Had you not placed me in the Arena, he may still be alive. A mistake you have obviously been paying for. Though it does not matter, Sicarius would be dying today by my hand anyway…As you will.”
Enraged, she screamed like a madwoman and drew her sword with violet eyes flashing a fiery purple. Then within a whirlwind encircling, she attacked like a lioness seeking her prey.
In Transformation, Darshun found it easy fighting her. Blocking every swing and effortlessly avoiding the many blows she threw, it was almost—too easy. Darshun stepped it up a notch and fiercely collided his sword against hers, pushing Talvenya back, her hands vibrating in pain. Then he kicked her in the gut. She crouched over, falling to one knee, and he spun around, striking the side of her face with another kick, his heel bruising her left cheek.
Talvenya fell, rolled and got up as quick as she could, slightly disoriented.
Darshun came at her again, wielding his sword, swinging, jabbing and slashing numerous times.
Talvenya barely managed to block the attacks.
Although, Darshun didn’t attempt to kill her just yet, only run her down.
Clearly outmatched, she leapt away.
He didn’t even pursue, instead he allowed Talvenya to catch her breath. “I expected a better duel between us, Queen. After all, you were the one boasting how great and powerful you are. Remember? When you had me bound up in that chamber? How one blast of your fire would incinerate me? How my race was inferior to you, Goddess. Perhaps now you understand a true Nasharin warrior.”
She smiled, “Goddess, yes. I like the sound of that,” she said and burst into laughter.
Darshun didn’t feel easy with this, for it seemed to be more than mockery. She was—hiding something.
“Still ignorant I see, huh Darshun? My dear boy, I have merely been toying with you. This battle is far from over.” Closing her eyes, she lifted her arms and the ground began to tremble while chaotic fires sprung up, lightning struck down.
One bolt nearly hit Darshun while he couldn’t believe the power he sensed in Talvenya, it doubled no—tripled the Dark King’s and rivaled his own!
As before, when she battled the Shield Guardian clothes fused with body, hair length increased trailing the ground. She grew taller, muscular and better fit while a vibrant multi-colored energy highlighted her presence. Talvenya became a totally different woman—warrior. “Goddess you say?” she asked with a most strict and confident tone. “You stand correct. And before I am through with you…You shall bow before me and beg for mercy, but will receive nothing!” Her essence again changed as it’d done when she fought Ormehthone and the Shield Guardian, glowing like a hot blazing coal or molten rock.
Darshun being able to sense energy levels—realized this power ascended beyond even his!
She drew a sword and attacked, smashing it against Darshun’s.
He flew back with a shooting pain in his arm, nearly dropping his weapon.
The orange glow disappeared and Talvenya chased after him, relentlessly attacking in a furious frenzy. Great bursts of flame and energy scattered from the clashing of their swords, but Talvenya clearly had control over this battle. If she wanted him to her north or south, that is where she forced him. If she wanted him at a section of land which gave her higher ground, and a more likelihood opportunity to make a swift kill, that is where she drew him.
Darshun was hers, and she could feel him losing strength quickly.
* * *
From another point of the meadow stood a portion of the army, watching the duel—and more than a few wanted to do much more than ‘watch.’
“I am going down there!” Minevara shouted.
Quickly, Mirabel grabbed her shoulder. “No! Leave them be. Darshun will be all right.”
“With all due respect—are you blind? She has complete and utter control over him. It is only a matter of time.”
“So it seems. However Darshun knows what he is doing.”
“But her power—can you not feel it? It is beyond many of us, put together!”
“She may be right,” Nayland reluctantly agreed.
“No, Mirabel speaks the truth,” Olchemy defended. “The boy has not shown merely half his strength, even so, strength is not going to win this battle. Wit is. Stand patient and watch.”
With all her will, Minevara had to fight herself not to intervene. She couldn’t believe the faith of Mirabel and the Wizard, but she must trust their words.
* * *
Grazing his stomach with her blade, then his shoulder cap and almost walloping off his head, Talvenya saw the confusion in his eyes and the frustration. He could hardly counter her speed. Then, something she'd been wanting to do for a long time and now seeing the opportunity, she threw forward a heavy kick and struck him in the groin, the sole of her boot felt like a piece of iron.
For a moment, Darshun froze and whimpered like an animal. He dropped to his knees, the nausea excruciating, and looked at her with eyes that almost made Talvenya feel sorry for him.
She smiled, pressed her heel against his forehead and kicked him onto his back. Enjoying the sound of his moaning she asked, “Are you impressed Darshun?”
Moaning a good thirty or forty seconds before slowly returning to his feet, eyeing her, he answered, “Increasing one’s brute strength in no way ‘impresses’ me. Neither does fighting dirty.”
Her gaze followed his hand, still rubbing his battered members and she laughed. “Awww, my poor poor man. I had to make sure that ‘thing’ never enters another woman. Would not want little ‘Darshuns’ roaming about now would I? Besides, it was for me only. That night on the mountain, remember?” She grinned.
“Don’t flatter yourself!” he retorted, his expression taking on a more serious approach.
“Enough!” she balked. “Tell me you are impressed. You’re Nasharin, therefore probably dying to know where my power comes from. Am I right?”
“Nay, Talvenya. It is what one can do with that strength, how a warrior handles it in battle that impresses me. So far, the only thing you have accomplished is to cause me a bit of pain. Yet pain is temporarily, a product of the body. As all things it passes.”
“Liar! You know you’re no challenge to me!”
“Well, here I stand, alive.”
Her eyes became bloodshot. “…Not for long!”
The battle proceeded. Though now, Darshun seldom clashed swords with her, instead he would dodge and avoid all attacks.
This defense caused Talvenya to grow angrier and angrier for there’s nothing more frustrating
than to miss a target multiple times in a row.
Darshun found a flaw in Talvenya’s new power. Especially with the orange glow. She would turn it on whenever she attempted a fatality, miss and then convert back down. Why? It was such a dramatic increase of energy she couldn’t seem to handle wielding the power for longer than a few seconds. It was a ‘super power’ so to speak and it tired her out quickly. In truth, when she struck the first blow against Darshun while in that glow, the breath had gotten knocked out of him and his arms felt broken, but only for a minute. From then on, Darshun would avoid such an attack. Surely, another would send him to the grave. A most strange ability it was, sky rocketing even his Ascension. Though, he noted and witnessed it could only be used for a few seconds. Along with the obvious fact she did not understand how to wield it like a trained warrior. This power must have been learned only recently—and it tired her quickly.
“Stand still!” she shouted, failing to land a single blow.
“Come on, you can do better than this. I’m over here…no here. This way! Is that all the speed you have?” he taunted while randomly changing positions.
Like thunder she screamed, and to Darshun’s surprise increased her speed, nearly lopping off his head. Then, taking him by surprise she rammed her knee into his belly, spin kicked him into the air, leapt high and kicked him again, this time smashing a heel onto his back.
Darshun plunged to the ground like a rock. His aura disappeared and he seemed unable to move.
She landed beside him, rolled over his body, placed a foot on his chest and her sword to his throat.
These moves totally caught him off guard.
* * *
“I am going!” Minevara said.
“No you are not,” answered Mirabel firmly.
“He is finished. There is no feeling left to his energy. And his spine might be broken.”
“That is because you are not concentrating. Darshun is nowhere near ‘finished.’ ”
With tears in her eyes she tried calming herself, and amazingly Mirabel was right. She could feel Darshun’s energy—rising!
