by Corey Soreff
Rorik materialized an inch from the ogre, close enough to smell its putrid breath. Two short swords immediately shot forward, both going straight through the middle of the ogre’s neck and forming an X as they crossed each other. The ogre struggled for breath, but found only blood. The strike was so swift the ogre had had no chance to react.
Rorik stared into the ogre’s eyes with malice. “There, I showed myself.” He pulled his blades from Breag’s throat; blood spraying forth as the assassin turned and walked away, not even waiting for the ogre to fall. He exited the arena with impatience. My next fight better be with one of the Blades.
“So many potential recruits, eh?” Lok said playfully. “I didn’t think we’d see this many adept fighters, it would seem the strongest on Darnesia are all gathered here today.”
The thought had also crossed Eucibous’s mind. “Dennas was a God’s champion. It’s possible there are others gathered here too. We are on the verge of war, after all.”
Jarec clenched a fist and smiled. “I wanna fight ‘em all! The question is, whose side are they on?”
“That lad kinda reminded me of Ginin, eh?” Grymmbeard asked.
The rest of them were surprised at the remark. Of course they had all thought that, but nobody said it. Lok looked at Eucibous, and saw anger. Not anger directed at his friends, but anger directed at the world. Anger directed at the drow that killed his friend. Anger directed at Sargath. All of those responsible for Ginin’s death would die. His fierce eyes ensured it.
Only one more fight remained in the first round. Eucibous stared out into the arena with obvious disinterest.
“Me money’s on the barbarian!” Grymmbeard exclaimed.
Jarec laughed. “Of course it is, you’re biased against magic. I’ll take that bet.”
Eucibous sighed. This match didn’t seem like it would be nearly as interesting as some of the others had been. A barbarian warrior was matched against an elf druid. Clearly the druid should win, and maybe his abilities would have been interesting, had he been a powerful druid. But Eucibous didn’t detect much of an aura from the elf.
Thundrin, the tall blonde barbarian, watched in disgust as his opponent weaved magic. Barbarians were similar to dwarves in the fact that they despise magic. A man should fight with his strength. A huge silver shield adorned with spikes rested in one hand, while a large one-handed sword was held in the other. He whispered to himself in frustration, cursing the tournament for pitting him against a cowardly magic user. It was not that he was afraid. Thundrin was never afraid. Magic users were just simply annoying to fight. There was no honor in it.
Elindril obviously had a completely different view on magic. Not only did he embrace it, he was one with it. Druids were beings of nature, spending their lives among the trees and animals. Their magic was different than that of a mage; you would see no fireballs from the hands of a druid. But a powerful druid had spells just as fearsome as a fireball. And somehow, Elindril was in the process of casting one such spell.
“Interesting.” Eucibous watched as the druid’s aura skyrocketed; power now bursting forth from the elf who moments ago had seemed nearly talentless. Of course, Eucibous was able to hide his aura too, he just chose not to. Apparently the druid did not care about pride. But the interesting part was that you needed to have almost perfect control of your aura to be able to do such a thing. Masking your power was not something every caster could do.
Lok looked closer. “Is that…?”
Eucibous nodded without saying a word.
A swarm of blood sucking insects flushed into the arena from the skies, headed straight for Thundrin. These were no mosquitoes, however. These insects were the size of a fist, and actually had visible teeth. Hundreds of them charged at the barbarian, it looked as if a black cloud was attacking him.
Thundrin growled. “I hate bugs.” He waited until the swarm was about to crash into him, and slammed his shield forward. The shield smashed into several of the creatures, one of them was even impaled on a spike. Thundrin then spun to his left in a circle, spinning his sword with him. He spun several times and cut a dozen of the pests to pieces. But hundreds more swarmed upon him. Several latched onto his arms and shoulders, biting deeply into his tough skin. He wore no armor; he believed relying on such protection weakened one’s defensive abilities. Though correct, he hadn’t expected to be battling these gigantic insects. Blood dripped down his arms from the bites, as hundreds more of the vampire flies circled him, buzzing loudly.
Elindril stood calmly, not having moved from his initial position. Although controlling so many vampire flies took tremendous concentration, he performed the feat with ease. He observed the struggle, wondering if he should add more spells to the fray. Not wanting to take any chances, Elindril severed the continuous weave controlling the horde of insects, while still maintaining the spell. Holding onto that spell with a fraction of his power, Elindril began weaving another. He spoke words of Elven magic, and seemed at peace.
Thick roots shot forth from the dirt, entangling the barbarian as they spun up and around his legs, tightening each second. They continued advancing, and soon enveloped his arms and chest as well. His shield and blade were pressed tightly against his body, for they too were wrapped with roots, though he managed to hold onto them. Finding his movement restricted, the vampire flies now had open access to the warrior and attacked with fervor. Onlookers winced as sharp teeth dug into the barbarian all over his body.
Elindril watched in concentration, making sure he did not falter for one second, or he could lose control of one of his spells. Severing the second open weave, he held onto both as he prepared another.
Eucibous smiled. “He controls two powerful spells simultaneously, and now he is casting another. This druid is certainly more formidable than he seemed.”
Grymmbeard snorted. “Bah! Trees and bugs wouldn’t stop me!”
At that moment the roots entangling Thundrin began sparking as electricity circulated throughout them. The barbarian howled in pain and fury as his body shook involuntarily from the currents.
“Not all warriors are as powerful as you, my friend.” Eucibous remarked.
Grymmbeard laughed. “A shame! We’d have a lot more fun if they were!”
Thundrin slumped to his knees, and vampire flies continued sucking his lifeblood.
“Your bravery intrigues me, warrior.” The mysterious voice said.
“Who’s there?” Thundrin stood on his feet, trying to remember where he might be. He was surrounded by bright light, and no landscapes could be seen. It was as if he was floating in the skies.
“Why, I am your Patron. You have been loyal to me. It is my turn to return that loyalty.” The voice said.
Thundrin swallowed nervously. “Vorthas?”
“Yes, my son.” Vorthas said proudly. Vorthas was a God of Light, known for honor and might. Most barbarian tribes worshipped him, along with many warriors around the world.
Thundrin immediately dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “I apologize for my rudeness!”
“Worry not,” Vorthas said, “I have chosen you as my champion. You shall be a beacon of honor upon the mortal plane. Magic need not be feared. Now go forth, and win your battle.”
The brightness faded into darkness, and when Thundrin blinked, he was back in the arena.
Everyone had thought the fight was over, and officials were ready to stop the match. Before they could do so, however, Thundrin pushed himself to his feet. “VORTHASSSSSS!!!!!” He yelled with pride. A flash of light came forth from his body, and Elindril shielded his eyes for a moment, and then it was gone. And so were the roots.
Thundrin let his eyes rest on his opponent before him, breathing heavily due to his wounds. Blood leaked down his body from numerous locations, but the vampire flies no longer attacked him. They hovered around him for a few seconds, as if confused about what to do.
Elindril wasn’t sure what happened, and he searched through the weaves trying to find a fl
aw in the spell. It was then that he realized there was no longer any spell. His eyes opened wide in panic.
The vampire flies turned, and sped straight towards the elf. All casters know that once a compulsion spell fails, whatever was being controlled is usually pretty angry at its controller. This is often different with a druid when they are controlling friendly animals they consider their friends, but vampire flies were not known for their friendliness.
Elindril quickly wove another spell, and chain lightning burst from his hands. A powerful druid’s chain lightning could surely slaughter a horde of insects, and he was no longer afraid. He had merely been surprised.
Then a light flashed once again, and the lightning vanished from the air before it could strike the horde. The panic returned. “What sort of trick is this?” The elf turned and ran as the vampire flies closed in. He fled with abandon towards the exit, and then realized his mistake. While he had been worrying about the flies, Thundrin had circled around him.
The barbarian was not fast enough to arrive at the exit before the elf, but he had gotten an early enough head start to catch the elf from the side. Thundrin charged at the druid while yelling out battle cries. He realized that he was not going to get there on time, so Thundrin gripped his sword tightly, wound his arm back, and heaved it forward with all his might.
The crowd watched, astonished, as a large blade soared through the air and struck the side of the elf in the ribs, blasting him off his path and sending him tumbling sideways across the dirt. Elindril wheezed in pain, as each breath felt like daggers in his side. Medical teams ran out and retrieved him, hoping to save his life before succumbing to his injury.
Lok jumped in the air with a cheer. “That was amazing! Euc, we need him! Did you see that?”
Eucibous nodded. “That was no mere defensive spell against magic, not to mention he’s a barbarian. It would seem he is able to completely negate all magical abilities of his opponent. A very useful ability, given by a God, no doubt.”
Grymmbeard had a wide grin on his face as he stared at Jarec with pride. “The bet is mine, lad.”
Chapter Fifteen
The Battle Begins
Anania stood with Eucibous in the combatant hall, massaging his shoulders as she relayed a message from the heavens. "I know how eager the lot of you are to fight these strong opponents, but our chance for victory has presented itself. We cannot abandon it."
"And how do you propose we get into this extra-dimensional pocket?" Eucibous asked.
"We don't," she replied. "Our most powerful wizards shall negate the liche's spell. We believe the liche is maintaining the pocket that hides his army while at the same time he fights in the arena. His grip on the spell will not be as strong from a distance. We can dispel it and the army shall appear at our doorstep, and we shall be ready for their appearance. They, however, would not expect it."
"A good plan, but you forget one thing my lady," Eucibous said doubtfully. "You would have me assist in the battle, and leave the liche here to do as he will. There are not many that could stand against Seth'nerak in a fight."
"I forget nothing, my dear. I would not have you assist in the battle. I would have your men." Anania stated this with reservation, nervous about his response. She knew the bond they shared, and she guessed separating them would not be easy.
Eucibous sighed, and put his hand on hers as she held his shoulder. "All of them? We are not yet aware if any of the other combatants would aid the drow. I might have my hands full with the liche."
Anania kissed him on the cheek. "Whoever you can spare. They have dragons, and their General is reputably strong. I'll leave Kuldric with you."
"Ok," Eucibous replied. "But my men take no orders. Lok will lead them, and must have the ability to lead the knights as well if necessary. He has more combat experience than any knight in the order."
"Done, although the Knight-Commander won't like it." Anania smiled. "Do you have any idea which of the fighters could be the liche?"
Eucibous shook his head. "It's hard to tell. If he's too proud to hide his power, I would say the mage, Lienir. But he could also be feigning weakness, it could be any of them. The mage might have traveled through the planes of death in the battle against your cleric, but I am not sure. It could have been a mere teleportation spell. But yes, if I had to guess right now, I'd say Lienir."
The Goddess nodded. "Lienir it is then. I shall have it arranged that you fight him first in the next round of the tournament. This will divert attention away from the other combatants that will be missing. We will begin the attack on their camp when you begin the battle with Lienir. Let us hope he is the liche. Godspeed, my love."
Eucibous stood and turned to face her, pulling her close into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and whispered in her ear. "The scribes will write of this battle. I'll make sure they include a beautiful Goddess."
Anania looked into his eyes and smiled. "Your son will be proud of his father."
His eyes went wide, his mouth gaping. "What?"
"Ye got to be jerkin' me lad!" Grymmbeard stomped his foot on the ground. "Ye expect us to have sat and watched all these impressive matches, then turn and leave to fight common soldiers?"
Lok agreed. "I agree with Grymm. If they attack from within the city during the battle you cannot be left here alone."
"I'm sorry, my friends." Eucibous genuinely felt bad about the decision. He hated disappointing his companions. "They need you. They mentioned dragons, and apparently the General has never lost a fight. I'll handle the liche, and I assume a few of our fellow combatants would assist me if there are other plants in the tournament. I do plan to recruit some of them, of course."
Jared smiled. "The barbarian! Get the barbarian!"
Eucibous laughed. "Yes, his gift is definitely appealing." He turned to Lok. "Lok, you will lead the battle. I have arranged to give you command over the knights. Take down this supposedly strong General, and show him that nobody is stronger than us."
"Done," Lok said.
Eucibous then looked to Grymmbeard and Jarec. "I am trusting you two to deal with the dragons. If dragons are allowed to run rampant, they would flatten the knights in no time. Try to get them before they're airborne."
"More dragons?" Jarec asked sarcastically.
"You've proven yourself a dragonslayer once already today." Eucibous looked all of his friends in the eyes once more, and waved them off. "Now go, let's win ourselves a war."
The mage Lienir stood in the arena, staring ahead at the most feared man in the world. Well, perhaps not anymore. The liche has inspired much fear. He mentally prepared himself for the match while at the same time wondering how the hell he came to be matched against Eucibous Dan'anti in the second round. Foul play was at hand, the strongest were supposed to be saved for last to ensure an exciting final. This was not part of the plan, he thought to himself. This changes everything.
Eucibous stood opposite from him, with a large grin on his face. His fists were clenched, and his aura could be felt by everyone nearby. Average onlookers felt like they were being smothered, their body seeming to weigh twice as much, fear crawling through their skin. Lienir was strong enough that he would be able to fight unaffected by such an aura, however. "Time to fulfill my promise!" Eucibous yelled across to the arena. "You die now!"
Lienir wondered how to react, and decided to use Eucibous's anger to his advantage, and perhaps it would throw off his concentration. "I don't know what the whore meant to you, but I don't care! I'll kill you like I killed her!"
"FIGHT!" Screamed the announcer.
Eucibous vanished.
Lok stood at the head of a large army of knights numbering in the thousands. The tip of his Halberd shined in the sun, and he smiled in anticipation of the coming battle. Next to him kneeled the Knight-Commander Ceric, but he wasn't kneeling to Lok. In front of them stood a tall old man, robed with a long white beard. The thousands of knights were all on their knees in homage. The only one not kneeling
was Lok.
"This is the greatest honor of my life, my Lord." Ceric, though on his knees, had never been prouder in his life. His God stood before him. The Gods have not shown themselves to anyone but their champions in many years.
Darnillus raised his arms, and his voice bellowed throughout the army, boosted by magic. "We have received the signal! Mages, bring down the spell!"
The strongest mages in Darnath gathered in a circle, holding hands and chanting words of magic. A few of them were mercenaries, and a few were the King's most powerful magus, including his advisor. A few of Noctune's followers were also assisting. Alone, none of them could have stopped the liche's spell. But together, they were strong. The weaves began to unravel.
Seth'nerak felt it the moment they began to batter his spell. He could feel the weaves of magic being taken apart, piece by piece, at a fast pace. Shit! He thought. How did they find us? He let his consciousness drift, and searched the planes for Marcovius and Sargath. When he found them, he let their minds become one in order to communicate. They are attacking the dimensional pocket! Prepare for battle! He turned his concentration back to the tournament. Everything is going wrong! I must kill the Crimson Blade now! The liche's blood boiled, excited to make his move on the man he had waited so long to destroy. It was time to give up the act.
Lienir would have preferred to make the first move. Being on the defense against Eucibous the infamous was not the best way to victory. He immediately cast all of his defensive spells, putting up barriers against both physical and magical attacks. He even threw up one to ward mental invasion, given the spell Eucibous used in his last fight. Then he once again cast his mirror image, and three Lienirs stood ready to fight.
