“No!” Metatron snapped angrily. “Tonight I shall end your darkness forever! And then I shall place that wicked whore’s head on a pike!”
In a blur of light Metatron swept forth swinging his sword at Orrick who met him with equal ferocity. The two blades clashed in the darkness sending the sounds of rolling thunder out across the hills and valleys. Metatron swung upward, but had his blow deflected and sword knocked from his hand. Orrick’s free hand darted forward gripping Metatron’s throat. He began to squeeze tightly.
“Who do you think you are?” Orrick growled. “I allowed you to live the last time we met as a favor to my brother. I owe him no such favors today.” Suddenly, Orrick thrust his sword upward beneath Metatron’s ribs. He released the seraph and allowed him to fall into a clump on the ground. Metatron shivered from the cold of the darkness which coursed through his body. “Pathetic,” Orrick sneered.
The darkness of the night was pierced by the sound of a deafening roar. Orrick glanced up to see Chaundra barreling toward him through the night. He cackled. “Your little pet will get to watch you die,” Orrick said. “Farewell Keeper.” Orrick vanished into the darkness.
Metatron shivered as he felt soft hands lift his head and he looked up to see a familiar face. “Ashleen,” he whispered as his fingers brushed across her cheek.
“No,” came a soothing voice. “I am her sister, Lisabeth.” The news of this seemed to pain him more than the darkness creeping through his body and tears once again flowed from his eyes. Lisabeth looked toward the city. “Help!” she shouted as loudly as she could. “Help me!”
The air around her whooshed as a giant dragon swooped down toward them. The ground shook when it landed amid a cloud of dust, causing Lisabeth to cough. She pulled back away from the creature as she cradled Metatron’s head in her lap.
“Do not fear, for I shall not harm you, child,” the dragon said in a voice that sounded exactly like Lisabeth’s mother. It’s huge snout lowered toward her and Lisabeth could smell the smoke and sulfur on her breath.
Aura was beside Lisabeth in a flash. She knelt down beside Metatron. “The darkness is taking hold of him,” she said. “I must take him to Auraehalis before it is too late.”
“I will accompany you,” Chaundra replied.
“No,” Aura said as she lifted Metatron into her arms. “There are still draks in the city and who knows what else lurking about. You must stay here and protect the humans. Finish the battle!”
Chaundra gruffed, but consented. “Very well.”
Chaundra and Lisabeth watched as Aura streaked away to get help for Metatron. Then the dracen queen turned to Lisabeth. “Stay here, little one. You will be safer.”
“But…” Lisabeth began to protest, wishing to return to the city, but it was too late. Chaundra flapped her giant wings and rose off the ground kicking up dust as she went.
Lisabeth watched the giant dracen fly away. “Little one?” she said with a frown. “Well, I guess I’m going to have to walk it.” She lifted the sword she had dropped when knocked unconscious and made her way to the crest of the hill. It was hard going in the darkness and she had to concentrate so as not to lose her footing descending the other side.
As Lisabeth descended, she began to hear movement in the darkness in front of her. The noise grew louder and louder and soon she recognized shrieks and hisses that she knew could only come from drakmere. Squinting through the darkness, she noticed shapes moving in the black. Her heart leapt up into her throat as the night erupted with hordes of drakmere charging directly toward her. She knew there was no time to run and a quick glance revealed nowhere to hide.
Lisabeth set her feet in as good of a fighting position as she could considering the dress she wore, and prepared for the imminent attack. To her surprise none came. In fact the draks ignored her as they galloped past on all fours frantically climbing back up the hill. She glanced up to see dracen diving downward incinerating the fleeing drakmere with bursts of flame.
Lisabeth screamed as a blast of fire came too close for comfort. She turned and ran back up the hill along with the draks, now more terrified of friendly fire than the jaws of the enemy. She scrambled back up, eventually crawling up the incline on her hands and knees to reach the crest of the hill.
As Lisabeth crested the hill she slammed into the back of a drak. For some reason the monsters had stopped fleeing and were stacking up atop the hill. She heard the shouts of men and the clank of sword and realized what had happened. Soldiers had come upon the drakmere’s rear, preventing them from continuing the retreat. More drakmere kept coming over the rise and Lisabeth knew that if this continued she would be crushed to death.
A drak slammed into her from behind, knocking her to the ground. Another stepped on her. The thought that she was about to die flashed through her mind. No! She refused to die like that! Lisabeth gripped her sword tightly and flipped over, slicing through the leg of the nearest drak, taking it off just below the knee. Its shriek of pain caused the others to move backward and Lisabeth was able to regain her feet. She began swinging her sword, in motions that appeared wild to the drakmere, but were in fact very controlled.
Draks stepped back from her blade, unsure of who this woman was or why she was among them. When she had made a bit of room for herself she threw back her head and shouted as loudly as she could “Help me!” Then she faced her first counter attack. The drakmere, now over the surprise of finding a sword wielding warrior woman among them, decided to kill her.
Snapping jaws came at her from the right, but a flick of her wrist, sent a drak leaping back with a shriek, now missing part of its snout. A claw grabbed her by the back of the neck. In a single smooth motion, Lisabeth flipped her sword upside down and then thrust the point behind her, impaling the drak. She yanked the blade free just in time to block a blow from a giant mace. Then a claw found her, striking upward across her breasts and tearing through her chin and lips.
Lisabeth fell backward onto the ground. A drak grabbed her free hand and sank its teeth into her forearm. She shoved her sword blade through its eye, but then she felt another bite into her calf as her dress was ripped from her body. “No!” she screamed in a mixture of agony and panic at the thought of being eaten alive.
She heard the sounds of horse as she felt the drakmere release her. Hisses and shouts ripped through the air, punctuated by clanging metal. The draks began to flee. Though her eyes were closed tight against the terror, she could feel the stomping of their feet as they rushed away, once again retreating with nothing blocking their path.
“Lissy!” she heard a frantic voice shout and she felt firm hands slip beneath her head. She opened her eyes to see Sir Tomfrey leaning over her. She sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight as tears began streaming down her cheeks. She wept into his shoulder as he returned the embrace. “It’s alright, you are safe now.”
A soldier appeared and wrapped a blanket around her as Tomfrey helped her to her feet. She climbed up onto his horse and as she did she noticed the men had formed a wedge, abandoning their slaughter of the draks to force their way into the horde of the beasts and rescue her. Tomfrey climbed up into the saddle behind her and urged his charger forward. The sun was peaking up over the mountains as they made their way down the hill to the White Fortress.
Chapter 24
Alaric laid in a ball upon the cold stone floor shivering in the darkness. He had been cold for so long he could not remember the last time he had bathed in the light. His once glowing skin and hair had turned dull and gray. His muscles had shrunk to nothing and he appeared to be little more than a skeleton with sagging wrinkled skin hanging from the bones.
Footsteps echoed along the corridor, but Alaric did not notice. He did not notice anything except the cold. There was a clank of metal as the key was inserted into the lock and an ear assaulting squeak as the door swung open. Alaric noticed none of it. In fact he barely noticed when cold scaly green claws reached beneath his arms, lifted him
off the floor, and dragged him out of his cell, past the cells of the human slaves, and up stone steps.
Alaric was vaguely aware when the draks halted, but his consciousness returned to him when he heard a familiar voice. “You are certain this is him?” Alaric felt fingers grasp his filthy hair and lift his head. He recognized Anne’s face immediately. “He looks like death.” He shifted his eyes to stare into the gentle glow of the lantern a man near her held.
“He is fading from this world. He has not seen the light in a very long time,” Asmodeus’ voice hissed.
“Isn’t he mortal now?” Morgan asked. “I thought when the elophim left the Great Forest they became mortal.”
Asmodeus laughed. “That is the legend. Perhaps they even believed it. But their so-called Father does not have the power to make them mortal. A trick to keep them in a prison of their own making.”
Alaric heard those words and let them sink in. Was this shedom telling the truth? Had he been deceived all of these centuries? He certainly did not feel like he had his strength, but that would be true due to his lack of exposure to the light. Being bound in darkness, combined with the belief that he were now mortal, could have made him think that he truly was.
Alaric stared at the tiny flame glowing brightly in the lantern. It was such a small amount of light, but he could feel its warmth from where he was. Suddenly, he slipped his arms out from the grasp of the drakmere and shot them forward, clasping his fingers around Anne’s throat and squeezing as tightly as he could. Anne fell backward and Alaric went with her landing on top of her, his nose pressed against hers.
“Die witch,” he whispered in a raspy voice as he squeezed tighter choking his own granddaughter. Anne struggled for breath as she stared into her ancestor’s eyes, which seemed somehow brighter now than just a moment before. Just as Anne thought she were going to black out, she felt his fingers release as Alaric was jerked off of her and tossed across the cavern. Anne breathed in deeply as she stared up at the gigantic mass of a se’irim. She felt hands slip under her back and turned to see Morgan lifting her.
“Are you alright?” he asked, genuinely concerned.
Tears of fright filled her eyes and Morgan threw his arms around her. “It’s alright, darling,” he said softly as he stroked her hair. She nodded into his chest before composing herself. She pulled away from her brother and walked over to Alaric.
“Pick him up,” she commanded and a se’irim obeyed. Anne tucked her finger beneath his chin and lifted his face to look at her. She smiled a wicked grin. “Oh grandpa, you are going to pay for that.” She then turned and cut her eyes to Asmodeus. “Now what?” she asked.
The shade turned to the human wearing tattered rags and trying his best to meld into the wall. “What is your name boy?” it hissed.
“J-Jon,” the human stammered.
“Where is the gate Jon?” Asmodeus asked.
“What gate?” Jon asked.
Asmodeus sighed. “Where is the wall of seraph symbols?” he asked.
Jon swallowed. “T-this way,” Jon stammered. “Please follow me.”
Jon led them through the darkness, lighting the way with his small lantern. They eventually came to a large cavern which ended at a giant rock wall. Upon the wall were five circles of seraph symbols, each circle was smaller than the last and contained within the larger circle.
Jon held his lantern up for them to see. “What is it?” Anne asked.
“The gateway home,” Asmodeus hissed in the darkness.
“Home?” Morgan asked.
“Abaddock,” Asmodeus said.
“You are taking us to the Realm of Darkness?” Morgan demanded.
“Yes,” Asmodeus replied. “After the last Realm War, the seraph sealed the gateway home beneath the rocks. They placed this magic seal upon it. Shedom, shades, and se’irim like us were trapped in the Middle Realm. But now we are going home.”
“No,” Morgan said. “I am not going to the Realm of Darkness.”
“Where shall we go Morgan?” Anne snapped. “Back to your castle in Avonvale?”
“Anywhere has to be better than the Realm of Darkness!” he shot back.
“You are coming Morgan. I need you.”
“But…” he began, but she cut him off.
“We will return, I promise.” Without waiting for him to speak further her eyes cut to Asmodeus. “How do we open it?” she asked.
“Only the blood of a seraph may break the seal,” Asmodeus hissed and all eyes fell on Alaric.
Anne’s eyes leapt to the se’irim holding Alaric. “Well you heard him,” she said flatly.
The se’irim smiled revealing sharp fangs and then slammed Alaric against the wall.
Alaric stared at them, his back pinned to the gateway. “Enjoy the darkness and the hell that resides there,” he smirked at Anne and Morgan. “You’ll fit in well.” Suddenly, the se’irim swung his enormous battle axe chopping Alaric in half and splattering blood all over the wall. Anne watched in amazement as Alaric’s body faded into darkness.
Just then all of the seraph symbols began to glow with a bright golden light and the circles began to spin independently, like a gyroscope. They spun faster and faster and Anne could see another chamber on the other side through the blur. As they spun, the lights of the circles grew brighter and brighter until they glowed fiercely. Then the light disappeared leaving an open passageway to the other chamber.
Anne heard footsteps and turned to see Jon running away as fast as he could. “I think he has the right idea,” Morgan mumbled, earning a sharp eye from his sister.
They made their way slowly into the next chamber. Anne and Morgan stared at what appeared to be a giant ten foot statue of a seraph standing upon a pedestal, carved from gray stone and holding a sword of blue flame which continued to burn. The statue was illuminated by a beam of light that came down from the ceiling high above.
“There must a a hole drilled all of the way up through the top of the mountain,” Morgan marveled. “Unbelievable.”
They passed by the statue until they came to what could only be the gate, and there they saw gigantic golden gears completing a locking mechanism. The gears, which were as tall as a se’irim worked in such a way that a seraph could crank a large turn handle moving the enormous bolts out of position, thereby allowing the gate to be opened.
“Open it,” Asmodeus hissed to the se’irim. One stepped over to the golden handle and placed his hands upon it. As he did so he leapt back with a terrible shriek.
“Light burns!” the creature growled.
“The handle and gears are made of light! That means that not only are they unbreakable, but no one from the Realm of Darkness may touch it!”
“The draks!” Anne shouted. Asmodeus turned to the two reptiles accompanying them.
“Yes!” he said waving them over. The draks reluctantly agreed, but before they reached the hand crank, the seraph statue opened its eyes and light illuminated them all. The statue leapt forth raising its flaming sword and struck down the first drak and then the second in the blink of an eye. As the seraph moved, the gray dust that covered his body blew off and his skin emitted the normal glow of a seraph.
“Uriel!” Asmodeus hissed. He suddenly realized that the statue was not a statue at all, but was the guardian of the gate, the elophim, Uriel, the fiercest warrior in Auraehalis.
With the draks dead, Uriel turned his attention to the se’irim. He did not say a word, but moved with blinding speed engaging the beasts. The se’irim fought as hard as they could but they were clearly no match for Uriel.
Asmodeus realized that, as fast as Uriel was moving, he was clearly not up to full strength. Add to that the fact that he had not moved in over a thousand years, and they might have a chance to defeat the ten foot tall seraph, but not without a shedom.
“Your Majesty!” Asmodeus hissed to Anne. “Uriel shall kill you unless I am made whole.”
“How?” Anne demanded.
“There must be a bl
ood sacrifice,” Asmodeus replied.
Anne swallowed. She stared at the giant seraph as it chopped through one of the se’irim. She then turned to Morgan. She reached out and placed a hand around his neck. “I love you brother,” she said as tears began to stream down her eyes.”
He turned to her and smiled. “I love you too, now we need to get out…” but before he could finish he felt a cold blade thrust into his stomach. He looked down and saw Anne had stabbed him with a dagger.
“I am sorry,” she said before removing the blade and stabbing him again and again and again until he fell over dead. Then she fell over his body, kissed him on the check and wept.
The last se’irim fell and Anne looked up to see Uriel’s glowing eyes burning into her. He darted toward her, his flaming blade held high above his head. Suddenly, a figure appeared from the darkness, that at first glance Anne thought was Rayfen. The shedom wore similar armor and carried the same jagged black blade, but Anne quickly realized she had succeeded. Asmodeus was whole.
Asmodeus blocked Uriel’s path and their swords clashed. Blow after blow from the seraph was met with counter moves from Asmodeus. Asmodeus was quick, but he was not much taller than six feet and appeared a dwarf next to Uriel’s giant frame.
Uriel swept upward with his sword delivering a mighty blow and knocking Asmodeus high into the air, to fall to the ground several feet away. Uriel was on him in a flash and swung downward in a chopping motion. Asmodeus blocked the blow with his sword, but Uriel continued to push downward, using all of his weight. Asmodeus struggled to hold the seraph up and the blue flame nipped nearer and nearer the shedom.
Anne began to panic. “Orrick!” she shouted into nothing. “Help me!” She began to cry. “Please,” she whimpered, but she knew he would not. She knew he had already overstepped his bounds by assisting her the other times and he told her it could not happen again. That meant Anne had to help herself. She straightened. She did not need Orrick. She had killed the Wizard on her own. She had killed Theron and Auguston Greynault on her own. She could move as fast as Asmodeus. She was strong.
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