“Was the death you’ve already caused not enough for you, Aremiel?” he asked.
The Dark Knight smiled, his white teeth giving his already unworldly appearance an even more startling quality. “You know my name?”
“Of course I do. The power you used to erase it from memory no longer affects me.”
“Good,” he said approvingly. “It is pleasing to hear it spoken aloud after all this time. But I did not kill the wife of Lee Starfinder. She was as you see her when I arrived here.”
Lee’s wife! Gewey reached out and felt her spirit still residing within her body. Yet her physical life was completely gone.
“Release her if you wish,” offered Aremiel. “I will not stop you. Her usefulness to me has come to an end.”
Gewey took hold of Penelope Starfinder's spirit and pulled it from her body. He could feel her confusion and frustration. Be calm, he told her. You will be with Lee very soon. He then released her and guided her from the chamber.
“Now we can concentrate on the matters at hand,” Aremiel said.
“Yes,” agreed Gewey. “But there is something I would know. Why did you wage this war at all? Why not simply fight a war against the gods? Why did so many others need to suffer?”
“That you care so much for the suffering of mortals separates you from the rest of your kind,” he replied. “But I am afraid there is no easy answer as to why I have done this. My ambitions were small before I took the sword. I simply wanted to free the mortal world from the cycle of lies that corrupted our hearts and ruined our spirits.
“For thousands of years the gods have demanded worship. And for thousands of years they have interfered with the lives of humans. But to what end? The very temples erected in their names have become dens of vermin and disease. And what did they do to stop it? Nothing. When it amuses them, they enforce their will and move us like pieces on a board. Then they watch as cities crumble and people are slaughtered. When they are needed most…they disappear. They leave others to put back together the pieces of the world that they themselves have helped to tear apart.”
He paused for a moment. “But after I took the sword, my eyes were opened. The malady of the world was far beyond any remedy mortal man could provide. For he has become infected as well. The gods have held sway for too long. I quickly discovered that the very people I had hoped to save were now as much a part of the disease as were the gods. It was then that I realized what must be done. The world needed to be wiped clean so that life could begin anew. And only I had the power and the will to do it.”
Gewey could hear the conviction in his voice…and the madness. “You were once a believer in redemption. Do you have no hope that the mortal world can be healed?”
“I was once a believer in many things,” he countered. “And just as you were once a naïve farm boy, I grew up. Even one such as you must admit that humans and elves are beyond redemption. The Great War settled nothing. To this day, they continue to squabble and bicker. How long before this festering boil of hate explodes into another war?”
“That may be,” said Gewey. “But you have no right to interfere. You are becoming like the very beings you despise. But instead of merely misguiding the mortal world into disaster the way they do, you seek to destroy it completely.”
Aremiel laughed. “No. Not completely. There is still virtue in the world. There is still strength. Once all else is cleansed, I will create a new world and a new people. And with my hand to guide them, they will finally know true harmony and happiness.”
“So you intend to become the Creator? Is that your ultimate plan?”
“The Creator?” he mocked. “Is there even such a being? I see no evidence of it. And if there is, then it is as much responsible for the insanity of the world as the gods are. More so in fact.”
“There is a Creator,” Gewey stated emphatically “And to aspire to rise so high will only result in your greater fall.”
“And are you not here to ensure that I do fall? Are you not here to stop me? It seems to me that I have more to fear from you than from some mythical Creator.”
“If it is her will, then I will stop you. Perhaps that will be the only proof you will accept.”
“And if stopping me means your own death?”
“Then so be it,” Gewey replied. The resounding boom that issued from his lips caused the Dark Knight to flinch. His enemy could feel the power raging within him. Equally, he could feel the strength of his enemy. They were evenly matched. And they both knew it.
“There is another way,” he offered. “Leave this world to me. Take your wife and child and return to heaven where you belong. I can use the power of the sword to let you pass through. Leave here and be contented.”
Gewey scowled. “That you think I would abandon the world and its people to the fate you describe tells me you know nothing of who I am. The world you seek to mold would be as loathsome as the one you now revile. More so, as it would be devoid of kindness and pity. You speak of strength and virtue, but you never once mention love and compassion. You seek a throne that will make you the one and only god of this world. But a god has no use for thrones. So what does that make you?” He sneered and waved his hand dismissively. “Just a mortal man with grand ambitions and egotistical dreams of glory.”
He let out a short, ironic laugh. “I once feared this day. I envisioned you as some colossal fiend that I would have to conquer. But I was wrong. You are just a man. Small minded and unable to wield power with wisdom.” He could see the rage building in his enemy's eyes.
“You might destroy me, Aremiel,” he continued, “But I no longer fear you. Whatever happens now, I know that you were never a god. In fact, you are barely a man. And I pity you.”
The Dark Knight rose to his feet and the chair turned to dust behind him. “Then let us finish this now, Darshan, son of Gerath.”
Gewey stood, and his chair disintegrated as well. “May you find forgiveness in the next world.”
Aremiel snorted. “I need no forgiveness. Only your blood.”
Gewey did not waste time with more words. Instead, he drew his blade and readied himself. When he'd fought Melek, the battle had been waged between their spirits. But his adversary this time was not a god, and he was unsure of how he would be attacked.
“I have always wondered what it would be like to fight one of your kind in the flesh,” the Dark Knight said softly, almost as a gentle muse.
In a blur of motion, he rushed in. The curtain of light radiating from his sword sharpened, making it appear as if he were wielding a thunderbolt rather than cold steel.
As they came together and their swords met, the ringing of steel on steel was far louder than Gewey had ever known before. More than that, each time their blades clashed, angry flames shot out in every direction. For a while he was forced steadily back, and twice his feet nearly slid from beneath him.
The Dark Knight pushed forward relentlessly, then suddenly switched his method of attack from high sweeps to a series of low thrusts and tightly controlled strikes. Gewey fended these off rather more easily. With his balance now restored, he countered furiously. But the Dark Knight parried and avoided his attempts to draw blood with no more effort than if fighting a young boy.
It suddenly became clear to Gewey that his enemy was toying with him, and that he was no match for the man's skill. In that case, he decided, he must rely on brute strength. There was just one thing worrying him. Though he could easily heal from a wound made by a normal sword, he had no idea what an injury from The Sword of Truth might do to him. For all he knew, one small cut might mean instant death.
Putting this from his mind, he stepped right and using all of his strength, swept his sword violently across at the Dark Knight’s hip. The blow was easily deflected, but the sheer force sent his enemy stumbling back several paces.
“For a moment I thought this would be too simple,” he said with a half-smile. “Your physical strength is truly impressive. But your skill with a sword…”
He rushed in again, this time sending a hail of strikes raining down. Gewey did his best to counter, but even with his godlike speed, the Dark Knight’s skill was quickly overcoming his defenses. Finally, steel found the flesh of his left arm. His eyes went wide. But with a flash of relief he realized that the sword had done no more harm to him than any other weapon might have.
As droplets of his blood spilled onto the floor, the Dark Knight grinned. “That is what I wanted to see. The blood of a god drawn by my own blade.” He took several steps back and gripped the hilt with both hands. “And now we shall see how powerful you really are.”
The ground began to shake violently. Gewey could feel the flow radiating from his enemy like heat from the desert sun. Even Melek had not felt so powerful as this. Rocks fell from the high ceiling of the chamber, shattering on the stone floor all around him.
He’ll bring the whole place down around us.
From the corner of his eye, he saw that the vortex was growing and consuming the terrace surrounding it. The Dark Knight rose ten feet into the air, both hands still gripping the Sword of Truth. His eyes were burning with fierce rage; his mouth was twisted into a vicious snarl.
Panic briefly threatened to take hold of Gewey, but then he heard a small voice in the back of his mind whisper: Use your strength. Use your knowledge. He smiled and nearly laughed out loud. Gerath was still with him.
He rose up, matching the Dark Knight's elevation. When level, he met the gaze of his enemy and raised both his arms. The vast mass of splintering earth above them instantly exploded upwards, sending millions of tons of rock and debris flying out in every direction. Light from the noonday sun streamed over them like water released from a broken levy.
Gewey shot skyward through the opening; the Dark Knight immediately did the same. Below, Gewey could see that the vortex was still continuing to expand. The massive crater he had just created would be consumed within minutes.
“Impressive,” said Aremiel. “You have learned to use your gifts. And you are far more powerful than I anticipated. So much the better. I will make your strength my own.”
He lowered the Sword of Truth and pointed it directly at Gewey. Before he could move away, a ray of pure white light shot out and struck him in the center of his chest. At once, Gewey felt the flow within him beginning to drain away. He drew in more, but it left him just as quickly as it came. After only a few seconds he realized that the sword was not simply draining away the flow he was channeling, it was stealing the power within his spirit…all of it.
He began falling toward the swirling mass below. He tried to resist, but the harder he fought, the weaker he was becoming.
He is not a god. It was the voice of Gerath once again. Remember that.
Spurred by the voice, Gewey clenched his fists tightly together and released a primal roar. All the remaining force and power he possessed shot forth, instantly engulfing the Dark Knight.
Aremiel screamed in agony. “No!” he bellowed, the volume of his voice louder than a thousand trumpets. The light from the sword was already receding.
Gewey halted his decent, but his head was reeling. He could barely see his enemy, and the flow within him was still drastically weakened.
He thought to ascend higher. That might give him the time he needed to recover. But before he could do this, the sky above turned red and a blast of heat seared into his exposed skin. His eyes cleared just in time to see a massive ball of fire streaking toward him. Instinctively, he used the flow of the air to part the flames. Even so, his hands and face began to blister as the inferno rushed past. He gritted his teeth and pushed the pain away.
His strength was returning, but not fast enough to save him from a second ball of fire, twice as large as the first. Again he tried to part the flames, but this time the power of the Dark Knight was too great.
He screamed in agony as the fire began to roast him alive. He tried desperately to push it away, but he was trapped within a burning hell.
The Dark Knight began to laugh maniacally. “Yes! Now do you understand? Do you see it? This was always going to happen. The other gods knew it…and they sent you to the slaughter anyway. Beg for mercy and swear to serve me and I will release you from your torment.”
Gewey’s will was breaking. No human could have endured so much. The stench of burning flesh filled his nostrils, and he could feel pieces of himself dropping off.
It is only flesh, echoed the voice of Gerath. Nothing more.
“But the pain!” he wailed. “I can’t bear it.”
No! I must not yield, he told himself, making a last effort at resistance. But he knew he was at the very limit of what he could endure. In desperation, he began healing his own ruined skin. The pain lessened a little.
The Dark Knight sensed what he was doing and quickly increased the flames intensity to the limit of his own strength. Gewey’s clothing had long since burned away, and now his sword was beginning to melt.
He redoubled his efforts to heal, and in moments found that he could outpace the damage being done. It is only flesh. The words repeated in his mind again and again. He could see it now. How uncomplicated the flesh was…yet how miraculous. He marveled at its creation, nearly forgetting that a nightmare was raging all around him.
He looked down as his naked form and laughed. “This won’t do.” He used the earth below to create a suit of armor. Just as it was complete, the flames vanished. He looked up at his enemy and released a blast of air that sent him tumbling from the sky. His descent halted only a few feet above the vortex.
The Dark Knight glared. “You think you are winning? This fight has only just begun.”
With these words, the ground immediately beyond the vortex erupted, sending hundreds of rock hard little balls of earth shooting toward Gewey. He responded by raising a shield of swirling wind that dispersed all but a few of the missiles. The ones that did make it through crashed into his chest and legs, but his armor absorbed most of the impact.
Though the air was almost completely dry, he was still able to extract enough moisture to form a wave of tiny, razor-sharp ice crystals. He hurled these at the Dark Knight, but a blast of flames melted them when only a few feet away from their target.
Before the Dark Knight could counter, Gewey followed this with a blast of air that struck his foe's breastplate with unbelievable velocity. His body was sent flying for nearly a mile before hitting the earth. Sand flew everywhere as he continued to slide across the ground for fifty yards before stopping, leaving a deep trench in his wake.
He scrambled to raise himself off the ground, but a gesture from Gewey had sandy tentacles reaching up and gripping his ankles. He swiped at them with his sword, but they reformed as fast as he could sever them. Relentlessly, they pulled him down into the earth until he was completely buried. Gewey hurried to solidify the sands and turn them to rock. He then sent waves of heat to roast his enemy in an oven of stone.
For a brief few seconds he thought that he had won, and a feeling of elation lifted his heart. But then the earth began to shake with terrible violence. Gewey called on everything he had to keep the ground intact, but the Dark Knight overpowered him. A colossal explosion sent them both, together with huge chunks of semi-molten rock, hurtling a hundred feet or more into the air.
Free again, Aremiel glared at him with hate-filled eyes. Gewey could see his burned flesh already rapidly healing. There was a large dent in his breastplate, and black smoke was rising from the smoldering cloth beneath his armor.
With a feral cry, Aremiel raised the sword aloft. A cyclone of sand rose up from the earth and began to expand. Gewey readied himself for another barrage of missiles, but they did not come. Instead, the Dark Knight stepped into the tempest. Gewey tried to send a spear of fire into its heart, and growled with frustration when the flames vanished as soon as they touched the storm's outer surface. As he moved closer, a bolt of lightning shot forth. His earthen armor absorbed most of its energy, though its light momentarily
blinded him.
His vision quickly returned, but the Dark Knight was already upon him. Gewey ducked just a fraction of a second before the Sword of Truth would have taken his head. A gauntleted fist then smashed into his jaw. He tumbled across the sky until he was once again hovering above the ever expanding vortex.
He regained his bearings just in time to see Aremiel streaking toward him. Gewey glanced at his warped sword and tossed it aside. Just as he did so, the familiar sound of bells and laughter filled his ears as the flow of the spirit wrapped itself around him. When the Dark Knight was only a few feet away, both of their spirits suddenly sprang forth and ascended even higher.
At last the two faced one another in their true forms. Gewey looked down. He could see their earthly bodies, frozen in time and space above the vortex, which had increased to more than a mile across.
The Dark Knight was now in gleaming silver armor, sword in hand and a jewel-laden crown atop his brow. His face was no longer of stone, rather it glowed brightly with his spiritual power. And yet for all his beauty, there was a dark force emanating from deep within his heart. It surrounded him with a vile aura that tarnished the purity that was once Aremiel, Knight of Amon Dähl.
Gewey was dressed in the simple garb of a farmer. His form and his sword glowed with a cool blue light. He looked at his enemy and shook his head sadly.
“Look at what you have become,” he said. “Your strength and majesty has putrefied and become diseased. Your spirit is corrupted.”
The Dark Knight sniffed. “And look at you. You are nothing more than a lowly peasant. That is what you have always been. How I could have considered you a threat is beyond reason. Such weakness cannot defeat me. Now I will cleanse the world. And I will begin by ridding it of you.”
As their swords clashed, the entire earth rumbled with such mighty force that both men were thrown back several yards. But the Dark Knight quickly renewed his attack.
Though Gewey was no match for his opponent in human form, here they were equals. Each combatant struck and parried, their weapons taking turns ruining spiritual flesh.
The Reborn King (Book Six) Page 32
