by Nikolas Rex
Even more shock gripped him as he surveyed the absolute slaughter surrounding him.
The courtyard was completely red with the blood of the dead. And not just of the soldiers, but men, women, and even children from the town had been hewn down.
Bile rose up in the boy’s throat and he tore his eyes away from the horrific scene.
“I have come here only because of you. You have been chosen. These are yours now.” The man said.
The man dropped the two katanas in their sheaths at the boy’s feet.
“What do you mean?” the boy asked.
The man did not answer but fell to his knees before the boy.
He took the boy’s face between his hands with a powerful grip.
The dark translucent countenance flashed, projecting over the man’s face for a brief moment.
“I am death, the destroyer of worlds.”
The boy struggled to free himself of the man’s iron grip.
The man tilted his head back and opened his mouth in a scream of agony. A dark force erupted from the man, pausing in the air for a moment, only to fall back down and enter the boy through his face. The boy let out a scream as the darkness entered into him.
It was over in only a matter of moments but the pain seemed to stretch that time into an eternity of agony.
The boy screamed and screamed. He tried to break free but the man’s grip was unbreakable. The boy spied out of the corner of his eye the hunched over form of his mother still hoisted up on the post. Her dress was red with blood.
“NOOOO!!” The boy cried.
Finally the transfer was over and the boy and the man fell back, away from each other.
The man had been transformed into a lifeless corpse that had been sucked dry and aged hundreds of cycles in a matter of moments. The boy pulled away from the skeleton, repulsed by it.
He felt tired, and sick, and in pain, all feelings threatening to overtake him.
And his mother.
“No!” he sobbed, wanting to go to the body of his mother but not wanting to at the same time, as if doing so would confirm what he already knew.
And then he felt it. A presence within his mind.
It felt dark and powerful.
It tried to seize control of the boy.
The boy threw himself against the ground in agony and slight convulsion.
I AM DEATH, DESTROYER OF WORLDS! The voice screamed, fighting to control the boy.
The boy shook his head, struggling against the power.
“No,” the boy said feebly, “No! My name is Drake.”
Blackness began to overtake him.
“MY NAME IS DRAKE!”
And then all was dark.
Chapter Forty Eight
The Beginning of the End
Drake was quiet as the group suited up.
He was the only one who had not spoken much of his vision with the Oracle.
It was the next day.
Everyone was getting into their armor, preparing to face the darkness that was consuming Sulendald.
Laura looked the most worried of the group.
“You have the crystal shard?” Marc asked.
She lifted it from the necklace around her neck.
“The Oracle said she would help as well,” Marc assured her as he helped her buckle her chest plate.
“I know,” Laura said. “I just do not know if I can do it, even with her help and the crystal.”
“That room has a power to it,” Marc continued, “you can feel it. Just by standing and looking up at the array of stars and planets, it is astounding. You will be able to do it.”
Laura nodded, “I am just worried is all. Walking the unseen paths myself is difficult enough.”
“Don’t worry,” Marc patted her on the shoulder, both reassuring her and letting her know her chest plate was secure. “All will be well.”
She nodded.
“You look quite handsome with your armor on,” Laura told him.
“Marad did masterful work in such a short amount of time,” Marc agreed. “You look elegant as well.”
He stood, fully armored, before her and the others. Most of them had shoulder bags as well as their weapons and armor, filled with extra supplies like waterskins and foodstuffs if they needed them.
He felt like a true hero, a knight, a warrior. He felt like he could conquer anything that got in his way. The rest of the party looked just as striking.
“How do they look?” Zania asked.
“Marcus looks truly to be the Wielder of the Flame, and the others look like his Templars.” Goodmother replied.
Zania was smiling and leaning her head on Goodmother.
“And Goodfather?” Cydas asked.
“He is on his way with your mounts.”
Cydas nodded and turned to the others.
“Ready?” Cydas asked.
They all nodded.
“Have you all finished firstmeal?” Zania asked. They replied that they had, “Then Exalted keep you.”
“Where I’m from,” Marc said, “people say, ‘Good Luck.’”
“I like it,” Zildjin commented and smiled.
***
As they gathered together around the circle that would transform into the platform that would take them below, the two main doors opened and Goodfather came in, holding the reins of Redmor. The other Aldoms stood outside, waiting to be led in as well.
Cydas walked over at took Redmor’s reins, allowing Goodfather to get the other aldoms.
“We will be needing them,” Cydas said, handing Redmor off to Marc, “As the Oracle has spoken it. Goodfather was able to acquire armor for each one.”
The creature’s looked majestic and ready for battle arrayed in their plated metal gear. The armor covered their legs, neck, and head as well as their shoulders.
The others took their mounts as well.
Squeezing tightly together, they all just barely fit inside the circle.
“Ready?” Cydas asked once more.
They all nodded a silent yes.
Cydas activated the magic, and the platform began to descend.
***
The ride down the platform elevator was mostly silent. Marc could sense everyone’s nervousness permeating the air. The aldoms must have sensed it too because every now and then one of the creature’s would let out a low sort of anxious growl.
When Redmor made such a sound Marc put his hand up underneath Redmor’s helmet and scratched behind his long ears.
“It’ll be alright, boy, no worries.”
It crooned at the sensation but still shuffled.
“Armor a little tight?” Marc whispered to the creature.
It gave a sort of bob of its head, indicating that Marc was right.
Marc felt where the armor was tightest and made some minor readjustments.
By the time he was done, the platform had stopped.
Soon they were filing into the Oracle’s galaxy chamber once more, this time suited for battle.
Welcome back. Sylandria said.
Laura, you may begin when you are ready, I will help with all the magical strength I can. Remember, the Order of the Leaf is camped away from Sulendald, not directly near it.
Laura nodded.
“Okay everybody,” she said, “Mount up, then, let us gather in a circle and link arms.”
It was easier said than done. Once they had gotten into the saddles of their steeds, they had to strain to reach each other’s forearms or wrists.
Marc positioned himself on Laura’s right, Zildjin to her left. Sesuadra linked arms with Marc, who linked arms with Puck, who linked arms with Drake, and then Cydas, who linked arms with Zildjin.
She closed her eyes.
Immediately she felt the presence of the creatures. They were easily attuned to the magic.
She imagined the city and began to recall as much detail of the place as she could.
She felt herself getting lighter and the faint outline of a doorway be
gan to appear before her. But she could only feel herself and the aldoms moving in the magic, no one else.
“This is not working,” She said, “I cannot feel anyone but myself and the aldoms.”
Marc let go of her forearm and put his hand in hers.
Suddenly she could feel Marc moving in the magic with her, slowly hovering towards the door.
“Yes!” she said, “Marcus, I can feel you now.”
“That’s the key then!” Marc said, “the skin, everyone grab someone’s hand!”
Zildjin, who was on Laura’s other side let go of her forearm and put his hand in hers.
She immediately felt Zildjin enter the magic of the unseen paths, then, as the others linked by hands she felt them enter as well.
“I see a doorway of some kind!” Marc said. He could feel Redmor underneath him.
The others were nodding.
“It is faint,” Laura said, “Oracle, now is the time.”
The light from the Oracle’s pillar began to brighten. The stars and nebulas in her sky began to shift and pulse with life.
A blue force began to surround them, twirling and moving like a tangible visible wind. Laura felt herself rising further, closer to the doorway. The doorway grew in size to accommodate their creatures. The magic began to whip around them, faster and faster. The lights grew brighter, fiercer. Marc closed his eyes. He felt a force trying to pull him away from Laura and he gripped her hand tighter.
The lights around them were blinding now and the force passing by them buffeted them in great waves.
“I cannot hold on much longer!” Zildjin cried.
“Me neither!” Puck echoed on the other side of the circle.
Marc felt himself being stretched impossibly.
The room around them began to change.
The stairs flattened and the fog that made up the walls and the door behind them all flattened, melting into a sort of silvery flat expanse like a sea of mercury.
The stars in the night sky began to fall, turning into burning trails of fire and light.
Marc felt his grip slipping from Laura.
Laura thought desperately of Sulendald, trying to will herself and everyone else through the doorway.
“Come ON!” She yelled, “JUST HOLD ON!”
Marc felt a pain all over his body and he opened his mouth and yelled.
Marc’s vision was blinded by a flash of white and yellow light and he felt himself being pulled through the doorway, Laura in front of him.
Redmor was suddenly gone. No, not gone, but no longer underneath him, and instead, was beside him. The other aldoms were nearby too, galloping in a disorganized fashion, but all still pointing forward.
As they passed through the doorway, Laura felt Zildjin, Drake, and Cydas fall away, unable to cross the enchanted threshold.
Marc felt himself being dragged through a vast tunnel of incomprehensible lights and sounds. He held on tightly to Sesuadra’s hand who was in-turn holding on to Puck’s hand.
They plummeted through the chaotic magic at impossible speeds, twisting and spinning in what felt like impossible ways. Marc felt the magic pressing against him, pulling at him, trying to tear him from Laura who was his anchor.
The aldoms were galloping in a pack now, Redmor in the lead. They were almost overtaking Laura.
Marc felt Sesuadra slipping.
“Hold on!” He yelled.
“I cannot!” Sesuadra cried back.
“Hurry Laura! Hurry!” Marc implored.
“The end of the path is near!” She cried back, “It has never taken this long!”
Sesuadra was slipping even more and Marc knew if they did not reach the end soon Sesuadra would slip away and be lost to the whims of the powerful magic.
“Almost there!” Laura cried.
The doorway at the end of the tunnel was swiftly approaching.
But it was too late.
Sesuadra’s hand finally slipped through Marc’s fingers.
“NO!” Marc shouted in dismay.
He watched as Sesuadra and Puck fell behind, tumbling away.
Brighteyes, Ses’s aldom, screeched as his rider fell. Redmor, the leader of the pack, turned and let out a similar sound, acknowledging Syril. Tandur let out a grunt as well. The creatures seemed to understand the predicament immediately and quickly turned, the other aldoms following closely behind.
“Redmor!” Marc yelled, afraid to lose his loyal steed as well.
Sesuadra and Puck began to disappear in the swirling magic, almost as if they were disintegrating before his eyes. Brighteyes jumped, catching Sesuadra with its beak, and Redmor leaped right after, grabbing a hold of Puck the same way. The two beasts, riders, and the rest of the aldoms disappeared soon after, leaving no trace behind.
“Sesuadra!” Marc cried out a final time.
And then he and Laura were plummeting through the end portal.
***
Marc felt himself smack hard onto a wood floor, cracking the wood slightly.
His armor absorbed most of the shock but his breath was still knocked out of him. His helmet was slightly askew. He adjusted it and glanced around.
It was dark.
“Laura?”
Laura was nowhere near that he could see.
He stood up and drew the Phoenix Blade, releasing its magic.
The fire from the sword and the golden aura around him brightened his surroundings significantly.
He was in a hallway of a very run down wood and stone building. Some of the wood was rotting away and several stones were out of place, rubble on the ground. There were several doors leading to other rooms and a final door at the end of the hall.
“Laura!?” he tried again.
The door at the end of the hall opened.
It was Laura.
“I am here, are you okay?”
Marc nodded, “Yeah, you?”
“I am fine, what happened to Sesuadra and Puck, and the aldoms?”
Marc shook he head.
“They, they did not make it?”
“Sesuadra slipped from my hand, and Puck was holding onto Sesuadra. Then Syril jumped after her rider, and Redmor leapt for Puck. The other creatures followed after, and they all—”
“I knew it!” Laura sunk to her knees, her metal armor plates clunking against the wood floor, “I knew I could not do it! Cydas, Drake and Zildjin could not even walk through the first door with us, I tried to pull them through but they fell away. They must still be with the Oracle.”
Marc quickly walked the length of the hall and got down on one knee to comfort her.
“All is well Laura! You did your best, no one could have asked for more than that.”
“All is not well Marcus, I do not know what happened to Puck and Sesuadra, or our mounts, I know Redmor meant a lot to you!”
An image of the loyal animal flashed through his mind, and a sinking feeling overcame his stomach. He remembered how Puck and Sesuadra seemed to disintegrate into nothingness and decided not to bring it up. He mentally shook himself and put a hand out for Laura to take.
Marc helped her stand, “There’s nothing we can do about it here. Let’s try and find a way out of this building and see where we are.”
“I know right where we are,” Laura replied.
“Where?”
“This is the same place where I first used my magic to escape Sulendald.”
“But this place seems so old and falling apart, I thought Sulendald was a city in use?”
“It is,” Laura said, “And this place looked different then. Whatever was happening here drastically changed the city in a very short amount of time.”
“Well,” Marc said, “let’s go and see what we can see.”
When they opened the door at the end of the hall opposite where Laura had entered they found the other side blocked by a giant pile of broken stones and rubble.
They searched the entire area for another way out but found every window and any possible exit bloc
ked by debris and wreckage.
“What should we do?” Laura asked.
“Well,” Marc replied, “I have an idea.”
Marc stood in front of the pile of debris behind the door that Laura said was the exit.
“What are you going to—?”
Marc pointed the Sword of the Phoenix at the blockade and fired a powerful blast of magic at it. Stones and splinters of wood shot outwards from the explosive force revealing a sort of filtered grey light into the hall.
It took a moment for the dust to settle and the rocks to stop moving.
Marc and Laura waited anxiously.
After a moment or two of silence Marc moved towards the opening.
Suddenly a hunched over figure of rotted flesh jumped through the hole with a guttural sound in its throat.
Marc reacted quickly, swinging his blade in front of him horizontally.
The thing fell sideways as the Sword of the Phoenix cut it precisely in half.
Laura drew her short sword and dagger combination that Marad had lightened and strengthened. Both blades had a sort of cerulean hue to them.
Laura was about to take a step forward, thinking that Marc had clearly vanquished the unsuspected foe when Marc put up his hand.
The top half of the thing turned around on its hands, its teeth still gnashing and it scampered towards them, its already rotting bowels trailing behind it.
Marc lifted up the Sword of the Phoenix and brought it down, skewering the thing’s head and brain with a sickening squelching thunk.
Laura shuddered, remembering her last encounter with such monsters.
Marc thought the thing would stop moving but it continued to claw at the blade, trying to free itself, trying to get at Marc.
Marc withdrew his weapon and this time brought the sword down in a chopping motion, severing the punctured head of the monster from its body. The body, without a head, finally lay still, but the mouth and the half sunken eyes of the head continued to move about wildly, teeth gnashing.
Laura stomped on the head with her armored boot once, then again, and again and again until the head was nothing more than a messy bumpy paste.
Just as Laura was finishing stomping her foot against the severed head they heard human and yet inhuman moans and cries and the sound of several more things approaching the entrance they had made.
