Wielder of the Flame

by Nikolas Rex

  Zildjin obeyed her words, knowing that even a glance might freeze him in his tracks.

  Stars from the cosmos passed by its gigantic frame on their fiery descent.

  It brought down a massive arm and taloned hand.

  “RUN!” Sylandria cried.

  They burst through the doorway into the hall just as the monster crashed its hand against the already breaking floor. Zildjin stumbled and almost dropped Sylandria at the substantial tremor.

  Why does the hallway have to be so long! Zildjin thought as he raced down the corridor.

  The creatures hand began to squeeze into the tiny opening, breaking the walls, ceiling and floor, of the hall just behind them.

  Sylandria used her magic again to throw the two dead bodies further down the hall into the room with the platform. And then turned to focus her attention on the approaching hand.

  She struck with her magic, slapping the hand with gigantic invisible forces, impeding its progress.

  “The PLATFORM!” Zildjin said desperately. “Cydas was the one who operated it, how will we leave now?”

  “I will lift us up,” She reassured him.

  Zildjin reached the platform and placed Sylandria on its center.

  She continued to hold her hands toward the hall, this time pushing the monster’s arm back instead of simply slow its progress.

  “Quickly, Cydas, and Drake,” she said.

  Zildjin could see sweat on her brow and the energy she was exhausting to save them.

  He moved first to Cydas and put his arms underneath the man’s shoulders to drag him to the platform. Cydas was cold, lifeless, and heavy. He dragged Cydas onto the platform, also placing him near the center.

  Then he ran to Drake and put his arms underneath him.

  Drake felt warm to the touch.

  Zildjin didn’t think much of it but froze when Drake let out a groan as he moved.

  “Drake is alive!” Zildjin cried.

  Sylandria nodded, “Blessed be the Exalted, now hurry!”

  Zildjin dragged Drake onto the platform as well.

  “Hang in there,” he said, “We are almost out of here.”

  There was a monstrous crashing and tearing as a second hand appeared into the hall and suddenly began to expand the corridor like a massive curtain being moved to reveal what was behind it onstage.

  The planets and stars were exploding and crashing down in torrents, lighting the entire space with fire. Flaming meteorites collided against the enormous fiend of blackness, tearing and shredding at its form.

  Zildjin fell back at the sight, terror gripping his heart. His nose began to bleed at the sheer terrible might before him.

  It moved forward, trying to fit its immense head through the small space.

  “You will die here,” Sylandria whispered.

  She let out a shout of power and brought one hand up, facing the monster.

  It froze in its tracks, unable to proceed.

  More and more stars descended upon it, burning its essence away. A planet exploded in the distance, sending a shockwave over the thing and over them. The platform shuddered.

  “Sylandria,” Zildjin said, meaning take us out of here.

  She nodded, struggling against the thing as it tried to move.

  “You will die here!” she said louder.

  The beast was half enveloped in fire. Stars and debris continued to reign down upon it. The entire space began to warp and change in strange ways, just as Sylandria had described it, a place folding in on itself.

  She brought up her other hand and with her palm facing downward she gripped the platform with her magic, then rotated her still closed fist to face upwards, then brought her fist up high above her head in a quick motion. The blue light that activated the platform glowed brightly all throughout it and it began to rise swiftly.

  The last thing Zildjin saw was the colossal fiend being folded over by an inferno of epic magnitude and a small magical world collapsing in on itself. The thing let out a final roar and there was a burst of searing white light, forcing Zildjin to close his eyes and fall back, his hands in front of his face. A final shockwave rattled the platform, and then all was silent. Zildjin blinked and blinked, finally recovering his sight in time to see Sylandria slump to her knees, her hand still lifted upwards.

  Drake was convulsing slightly and Zildjin rushed over to him.

  He tore open the young man’s shirt too see how bad the cut was, it should have been fatal, but instead of a freshly opened wound, a raw scar lay across his chest.

  Drake would be okay, for the most part.

  He turned his attention to Sylandria.

  “Sylandria?” Zildjin said in concern.

  “We will make it,” She replied tiredly, “We will make it.”

  He walked over and sat down next to her wavering form.

  She slumped into his arms for support and he put a hand on her elbow to help hold her hand aloft. They sat quietly like that the rest of the way up. Besides her soft breaths, Zildjin could only hear the sound of the platform rushing upwards and Drake’s occasional quiet groans.

  Chapter Fifty Four

  Phoenix Inferno

  Marc felt himself falling and thought for a moment he should do something about it.

  “Laura!” He shouted.

  The ground was swiftly coming up to meet him. Hundreds of thousands of undead lined the main street of Sulendald and he was descending directly at them. He glanced over at the building he and Laura had been on and saw the structure collapsing, taking a few hundred zombies with it in the process.

  Laura! He thought desperately.

  Suddenly he felt Laura hugging him, searching for his hand.

  The moment their fingers touched they disappeared together.

  Marc saw a swirling magical tunnel surround him for a brief instant and then they were through another portal door and landing gently on the ground below on a side street near the main road.

  “That was a close one,” Marc said. “Thank you.”

  Laura leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

  “I am afraid,” she said.

  The sheer number of zombies he saw flashed through his mind and he nodded.

  “Me too. But don’t worry, I’m here by your side, we can do this, together. Belator has made his choice clear. If he won’t destroy his army, then we will, along with him.”

  They looked up and saw the cloud platform descend to land before them.

  Belator stepped off of the platform and stood on the cobblestone road in front of them.

  He had Laura’s sword in his hand, dripping with green blood-like substance.

  His face was a stony, lifeless expression, matching his complexion.

  He tossed the dirty weapon onto the road in front of them.

  “It will take more than a simple blade to defeat me,” he said coldly, “Much more. I am debating whether you are even worth my time.”

  He turned without so much a second going by and said,

  “I think not.”

  Laura grabbed her weapon from the road, wiping the green blood clean.

  Belators arms glowed green as he turned his back on them.

  He waved both of his hands, gesturing for a large force from the main road to break off and attack Marc and Laura.

  Marc let fire from the Sword of the Phoenix flare and shoot forward with a shout of power.

  Belator heard the flames roaring towards him and he whipped around, his arm outstretched, countering with his own magic. The two enchantments collided in a great burst of red, orange, and yellow flames and energy.

  As the smoke cleared from the blast Marc saw that Belator was no longer alone on the road. Belator’s minions rushed on either side of him, pouring towards Marc and Laura.

  Marc gripped the Phoenix Blade with both hands and swept the weapon in a horizontal arc in front of him, flames roaring. The first wave of thirty or so undead burned to a crisp within a heartbeat, and the other twenty behind them flew ba
ckwards at the scorching heat. But Belator just stood there, unflinching, as fifty more jumped up to replace them.

  Marc let out a shout and swept the Sword of the Phoenix back again in an arc going the opposite direction. Thirty more were burned, and twenty flew up in the air. But fifty surged straight on through. Marc swung again, and again, and again, the fire waning with each strike, but green and grey decaying flesh burned and was flung to and fro nonetheless. Laura stood near Marc, wishing she could do more to help. She looked back and forth, thinking, analyzing, planning.

  There are too many of them. Marc thought. We have to kill Belator. Once he’s dead, his power over the undead will cease and his minions return to their dead state.

  A sinister smile was breaking out on Belator’s face as he watched the two petty humans fight feebly against his mighty army.

  “We cannot destroy all these things on our own!” Laura shouted over the roar of the fire, she must have been thinking the same thing as Marc because she continued, “We have to kill the puppeteer so his puppets will have no one to hold up their strings!”

  Marc nodded but did not reply, trying to concentrate.

  “Charge up a powerful attack!” She yelled. “Wait until the last moment and I will move us through the unseen paths over Belator right as you strike!”

  He nodded.

  Laura stepped behind him, feigning to be weary so Belator who watched from nearby would not think anything of her.

  Indeed Belator saw her action and he sneered, he knew the human female would be the first to tire from the fight.

  Marc brought his arms up to swing again but did not release immediately. He let the fire grow, let it strengthen. The zombies surged forward in the interim of attacks.

  “Not yet,” Laura said.

  The zombies raged closer.

  “Not yet,” Laura said.

  Marc could make out the grotesque and revolting features of the nearest zombies. Another moment and the horrible things would overrun them, their decomposing teeth sinking into his and her skin.

  “NOW!” Laura cried and placed her hands on each side of his face.

  Marc swung the Sword of the Phoenix.

  But instead of zombies he found himself immediately hovering over Belator.

  The fire from the Phoenix Blade leapt directly downward with Marc’s swing, encompassing Belator in a blaze of hungry flames.

  Belator glanced up at the last moment and brought his scythe arm up but still took the brunt of the blast.

  Belator roared through the explosion as he was flung down and sideways, sliding into the dirt road with crushing force.

  Before Marc and Laura fell, Laura used her magic again and transported them higher up in the sky.

  “Again!” She cried.

  Marc raised his weapon, the blade igniting with flames once more, and he swung.

  Laura moved through the unseen paths again and the next moment Marc was nearer to the ground above Belator just as he was swinging the Phoenix Blade downward. Another blast of fire struck the Necromancer just as he was getting to his knees, shoving him to the ground with a powerful force, his pale skin burning, his shoulder armor charring and the leather straps disintegrating.

  He truly must be the Wielder of the Flame. Belator thought with a mixture of emotions of both fury and pain. Nyrith was right.

  His vast forces stood on the road stupidly, unable to reach their master’s foe.

  Belator roared his frustration aloud, trying to move despite the pain.

  Laura repeated their action and Marc was high in the sky again for only a brief second, then low again for another strike.

  But this time Belator was ready. When Laura and Marc reappeared the Necromancer had already dropped his scythe and was on his back, hands outstretched. As the fire descended upon the pale sorcerer he countered it with a discharge of yellow energy from his right hand and even before the explosion from the impact of the two forces ended, he shot a second bolt of energy through it with his left hand.

  Marc was unprepared as yellow energy suddenly exited the explosion and hit him square in the chestplate. The blast sent him flying upwards and backwards in an uncontrolled spin, the Sword of the Phoenix sailing from his grip. Again he felt a searing wave of heat surround him but his armor took most of the shock quickly cooling the energy to a mere warmth. He felt Laura’s hands lose their grip on his neck and heard her cry out as it happened.

  Marc saw the bright blue sky and realized that the fog was slowly encroaching back to its original position. Then he saw the street, covered with undead, then the sky again, as he flipped, then the zombie filled street quickly coming up to greet him.

  He crashed right into the middle of the road, zombies all around him and he heard another crash nearby and could only assume the same had happened to Laura. Bright purple stars exploded across his vision at the impact and he struggled to stay conscious as the pain from the landing threatened to overwhelm him. He was tired from so much magic wielding. The monsters swarmed Marc, giving him no respite. He could feel their hands clawing and their jaws clamping over his armor. One gripped at his helmet, trying to rip it off, but the monster was grasping it at an odd angle and instead of pulling the helmet free it was only yanking Marc’s head with every tug. One of the armored zombies stepped on Marc’s face in the scramble and Marc felt blood trickle down his nose.

  Marc tried to look around for the Phoenix Blade but all he could see was the flashes and blurred movements of hundreds of legs. He fought for control, pulling against the things trying to eat him. He thrashed and kicked and punched desperately. Get off me! He screamed in his mind, Get off me! Get off! Get off! GET OFF!

  Suddenly Marc felt his suit of armor supercharge and it glowed with bright clear light.

  The Tarenium! Marc felt a surge of hope and strength and he let out a shout, willing the energy outwards to push the things away from him.

  There was an explosion of fierce brilliant white massive energy and the zombies on top of him and all around him were flung up and away like they were nothing at all. Marc stood and saw the Sword of the Phoenix.

  He heard Laura scream nearby, somewhere deep into zombies.

  “MARCUS!”

  He scooped up the powerful weapon and began to run towards the scream.

  He suddenly felt a blast of magic hit him in the back, forcing him to topple down to his knees.

  He glanced behind him and saw Belator struggling to stand, his armor half melted onto one of his shoulders, that arm supporting him with what used to be his scythe and was now only a half burned stick, the other shoulder and arm were naked and also severely burned, but pointing towards Marc.

  Idiot. Marc though, you can hit me all day with your magic, but your only helping me win the fight that way.

  Marc needed to get to Laura and did not have any more time to waste with Belator.

  “COME ON!” He shouted and began to run towards the Necromancer.

  Belator snarled and shot another blast at Marc.

  Marc felt it hit him like a freight train and he was thrown backwards. But his armor absorbed the magic. He struggled to stand and felt another blast hit him, throwing him sideways.

  “COME ON!” He shouted, standing again.

  Belator lowered his arm, sensing something was amiss.

  “MARCUS!” Laura screamed again. Marc could hear the zombies growling and moaning.

  Marc began to run toward Belator again, letting the Sword of the Phoenix flare with magic. The golden aura surrounded Marc as well.

  Belator finally got to his feet, still holding onto the rod for support and fired another blast at Marc.

  This time Marc swatted at it with the Phoenix Blade. He had gotten enough energy already and didn’t want to be thrown to the ground again.

  The Necromancer looked worried and began to fire more and more magic at Marc as his enemy drew nearer, but Marc swung his weapon back and forth like a baseball bat, knocking out homeruns.

  “BELATOR!�
� Marc cried as he approached, “YOUR HOUR HAS COME!”

  The Necromancer let the rod drop and brought both hands up, releasing one final mighty surge of searing energy at Marc.

  But instead of push him back as Belator hoped, Marc’s armor caught onto the yellow energy and immediately conducted it, converting it into fire and empowering the magic in the Sword of the Phoenix.

  Marc leapt into the air with a mighty roar at the same time Belator let out a cry of “Nooooooo!”

  The Phoenix Blade cut the Necromancer from naked shoulder through, downwards across his chest in a diagonal cut. But the flames from the magic consumed most of his form before the severed portion of his upper torso and head could even fall to the ground.

  Marc rolled into the ashes and came up on his feet on the other side.

  Marc looked around, expecting to see all the zombies immediately fall after the destruction of their creator, but they did not.

  “MARCUS, PLEASE!” Laura cried again.

  He turned and without another moment’s hesitation he sprinted to the horde of undead attacking Laura. He continued to draw from the magic his armor absorbed, keeping the Phoenix Blade lit, and swung it at the first row of undead.

  He cut through ten, then ten more, then ten more.

  “Laura!” He shouted, “Laura! I’m coming, just hold on!”

  Ten more, then another ten, but no Laura.

  Finally he saw her buried in a pack of them.

  He sliced his way through, uncovering her just as one of the things was about to bite her face.

  He kicked at the zombie and she finally saw him.

  “Marcus!” He let down a hand and pulled her up.

  He swung the Phoenix Blade in a half circle, keeping the undead clear from them.

  “I killed Belator, but the undead are still moving.”

  “We are completely surrounded, we will have to fight our way out!” She said.

  “Hold on,” Marc said, “I have an idea. Do you have enough energy for one more pass through the unseen paths?”

  “I do not know,” She answered truthfully.

  Marc swung the Phoenix Blade again, keeping the undead at bay.

  “I will start us out with some momentum, build it up for a bit, then jump, and when I jump, I want you to take us as high into the sky as you can above Sulendald. As high as you can!”