by Vinn Winters
“Oh, you’re going to be fun,” Eygodon replied flatly, rolling his eyes.
The sounds of the approaching guards grew louder; Vyra could even hear their shouting.
“Don’t worry about the guards, I’ll take care of them,” Eygodon continued. A dark book with bright ruby markings materialized in his hands.
“What are you going to do?” Vyra asked anxiously.
“Read them a bedtime story,” Eygodon replied sarcastically. “I’m going to kill them, what did you think I was going to do?”
“No, don’t!” Vyra shot back, “they’re just doing their duty!”
“Indeed, and their duty will lead them to an early grave,” Eygodon replied, opening the book.
“If you do it…” Vyra said, putting the blade of her sword to her neck.
“Are you serious?” Eygodon asked, his face scrunching in confusion. “You would end your life to stop me from killing guards that are coming here to kill you anyways?”
“They’re coming here to rescue me from you,” Vyra lied.
“Spare me your fables, Wishcaller,” Eygodon said, tilting his head to the side. “A little lie goes a long way with me. I already figured out that I’m not the only one they’re after.”
“Still, I refuse to let you do it,” Vyra persisted.
“You’re bluffing,” Eygodon said.
“Am I?” Vyra replied. “I’m just a simple squire. No way I can defeat all the knights coming and survive. I’m dead already. But taking down the most infamous warlock of the realm—”
“Sorcerer,” Eygodon corrected.
“—would be a hero’s death. An honorable death,” Vyra finished, doing her best to sound certain.
“You can’t be serious,” Eygodon complained. “It’s still death. Death is still death.”
She pushed the blade further against her neck, Eygodon reflexively reached up to his, then cursed for doing so.
“Fine,” Eygodon said. He took a deep sigh, shook his head, and then shut the book. The tome vanished into thin air. “What’s your grand plan then?”
“I want to see if Aldrean is okay,” Vyra said.
“If he is, we can fix that problem really quickly,” Eygodon replied, but stopped when Vyra put her weapon to her neck again. “Boy, you’re going to be a joy to be attached to.”
“I just need a moment,” Vyra said racing over to the paladin.
“Good, because that’s all we have,” the warlock added with a snarky tone. With a flick of his wrist, the throne room doors slammed shut.
“Hurry, I can’t hold them for long,” the warlock said.
Vyra raced over to Aldrean. He looked badly injured. She put her face near his lips and was excited to feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek.
Thank the Holy Willow! He’s still alive! she thought.
There was loud pounding against the throne room doors, followed by even louder sounds of soldiers ramming into it. The doors shuddered, but did not open.
“Not much longer now,” Eygodon uttered, his voice strained.
She gently rested her forehead against Aldrean’s.
“I will come back for you. I’ll make up for this… for everything. I promise,” she whispered softly. Then she kissed him gently on the forehead and stood back up.
“Are you done with your heartfelt goodbye? Or should I politely ask the guards to give us more time?” Eygodon said impatiently.
“I’m ready. Let’s go,” Vyra said reluctantly. No sooner had the words left her lips than a loud crashing signaled that the guards had finally forced their way in.
“Halt!” a knight yelled out. Dozens of armed humans, both soldiers and knights, poured into the throne room. Several of them were armed with bows, and immediately took aim.
“Time to go!” Eygodon said quickly.
Vyra turned to run, but froze when Eygodon ran up and threw his arms around her.
“What the hell are you—” Vyra began, startled.
“—doing?” she finished, looking around at the cityscape below her. She quickly pressed against the ceiling tiles to avoid falling. They were on the roof of Aeroma Castle.
“How — how did we?” Vyra asked, on the edge of panic.
“Teleportation,” Eygodon replied. “A short distance is easy; a further distance takes a little bit of time to calculate. Hope you’re not afraid of heights. Just hold still and try not to fall off. It’s a steep roof and a very long way down.”
Struggling to ignore the heights, Vyra looked around again. Much of Beckonthrone was swallowed in fire. A sea of smoke lingered over the city like thunderclouds. The dragon has done so much damage, Vyra thought, though taking a quick moment of relief as she noticed the dragon was not flying around the city. They must have fended it off… somehow.
A quick gust of wind served as an unpleasant reminder of her fear of falling to her death.
“This is insane!” Vyra shouted, staring at the ground below in terror. “How are we going to get down from here?”
“We aren’t,” Eygodon replied calmly. “I just need a short bit of time to prepare the aim. In the meantime, try not to fall.”
“Well, I’m sure in great hands,” Vyra said sarcastically.
“That was unnecessary,” Eygodon argued. “A teleportation spell is not something you can just conjure out of the blue; it takes considerable effort to study. For example: you need to be sure that nothing is standing where your destination is, or it’s—”
An arrow flew past Vyra, striking Eygodon in the shoulder. The warlock roared and staggered backwards.
Vyra screamed and grabbed her shoulder. The pain was excruciating, and was coming from the same spot where Eygodon had been struck. As her feet slipped, she fell and starting sliding down the castle roof.
“Wishcaller!” Eygodon yelled. He dashed towards her and extended out his hand. Vyra reached out to grab it; but just as their hands touched, another arrow struck the warlock, this time in the chest. They both shouted in pain, Eygodon reflexively leaped backwards with catlike agility.
Vyra’s vision began to blur as she slid further down the roof.
This is it, she thought as she faintly felt her feet touch only air. She had slid down to the edge of the roof. She no longer had the strength to panic; this is how I die…
Just as half of Vyra’s body had slipped off the edge of the roof, she felt multiple hands grab her. She felt her body being pulled back onto the roof.
“Keep her safe. I’ll handle this beast,” a woman’s voice reached Vyra’s ear. It was a familiar voice, though Vyra could not remember from where.
“It will be done,” a different woman’s voice, closer to Vyra said, echoed by a third voice, another woman. Then she felt herself being lifted carried away as her world faded to black.
“Well if it isn’t the leader of the Embervyne Rangers,” Eygodon said, forcing his tone to sound casual, even though it was full of mocking irreverence. “Ethoria, wasn’t it?”
“Ah, so you do remember me?” Ethoria replied, as she pulled another arrow from her quiver. “Though I guess it makes sense that an outlaw as infamous as yourself would recall the person who was able to strike you down.”
“I like to keep tabs on my enemies,” Eygodon replied, repressing the urge to wince as he pulled the arrow from his chest.
“Well I’m flattered,” Ethoria said, flashing a quick and very fake smile.
“The girl is mine,” Eygodon said sternly. “Give her to me and I’ll leave you in peace.”
“And why would I do that?” Ethoria challenged. “Willingly hand over the only female squire to the warlock who slaughtered most of my brothers and sisters of the Silverclad Knights at Cinder Reign. How many died by your hand at that battle? How many died by your hand in other battles?”
“It’s sorcerer,” Eygodon stressed. “A tavern bard might have a better account for my record on the field of battle. Moving past that… believe it or not, your squire is safer with me.”
“I don’t beli
eve that for a moment,” Ethoria replied as she pulled back the bowstring on her exquisitely fortified bow. The bow was crafted with ebony wood, and reinforced with a lining of metal. It had a set of crescent blades on either side of the grip, the standard for Embervyne rangers, allowing them to fight in melee combat if necessary. She lifted her bow, the arrow equipped aimed at Eygodon’s face. “Now, if you don’t mind… I’d like to finish what I started back at Cinder Reign.”
“I’d rather sit this dance out, if you don’t mind,” Eygodon said evasively.
“It wasn’t a request,” the ranger said, her eyes narrowed.
“Well then… if you leave me no choice,” Eygodon growled, holding his arms out wide. A reddish glow emanated from his fingers, and his nails turned dark and grew out into sharp tiny daggers.
“For the grace and honor of Beckonthrone and of the kingdom, I purge you from this realm,” Ethoria vowed as she took aim.
“Didn’t happen the first time you said it, and I doubt it’ll happen now!” Eygodon snarled and lunged at the archer with inhuman speed.
Ethoria released her arrow; the projectile flew straight at the center of the warlock’s forehead. Eygodon darted to the left at the last second, the arrow fitting just through the opening between his head and his pointy goblin ear.
Ethoria quickly pulled and fired a second arrow, which the warlock narrowly dodged. She reached to her side and drew a curved silver dagger.
Eygodon swung at the ranger with his newfound claws; Ethoria blocked the attack with the crescent blades on her bow and counterattacked with her dagger. The warlock pulled back, but not quick enough to avoid a thin red line a crossed his neck.
Eygodon’s eyes widened as he reflexively touched his neck. Then he glared down at Ethoria.
The ranger’s lips curved into a smirk.
Chapter 10
“Lord Aldrean!”
“Lord Aldrean!”
Aldrean opened his eyes to see the armored gnome shaking him. A small fuzzy creature lay on his shoulder.
“Are you okay, Lord Aldrean?” Orbit asked.
“What happened?” Aldrean asked. “Where — where am I? And why is the King perched on your shoulder like a common parrot?”
“The king is injured from his victory against the dragon!” Orbit replied excitedly. “The priestesses were able to heal the broken bones, well most of them—”
“The parrot can speak for himself,” Sargedon interrupted with a soft hiss. “Worry not of me. I will be limping for a while, but I will recover.”
“Do you remember what happened?” Orbit asked, looking at the paladin with concern.
“Unfortunately, no,” Aldrean said, rubbing the side of his forehead. “I remember running towards the throne room. There was blood, so much blood. And then… nothing.”
Orbit scratched his beard as he squinted at him.
“Orbit thought he had it hard fighting a dragon, but from the shape you’re in, Orbit wagers the fiercest battles may have been indoors!” the gnome warlord said with a chuckle, but then his face became quickly serious. “We’ll get you patched up. You look like you’ve lost a lot of blood. Lord Aldrean, are you sure you can recall nothing?”
“I wish I could,” Aldrean said. He strained, trying to remember. “No, it’s all blank.”
“That is a pity. From what Orbit is told,” Orbit explained, “you were found at the feet of the vile warlock Eygodon.”
“Eygodon?” Aldrean’s face lit up with rage. “I’d love to separate that goblin’s head from his body, once and for all. He has plagued us for long enough!”
“Aldrean,” Orbit said softly.
“What?” Aldrean snapped.
“Your squire was seen with him, they appeared to be working together,” Orbit continued solemly.
“Vyra?” Aldrean asked, his eyes widened. “No, that cannot be. Vyra is a squire loyal to the Silverclad knights. She fights with honor, I have seen it.”
“So has Orbit,” the gnome warlord agreed. “But Orbit cannot deny the facts. There are multiple witnesses saying that tried to kill the Captain of the Guard.”
“Radek?” Aldrean asked. “I wouldn’t blame her for wanting to. If I could get my hands on that arrogant piece of scum—”
“She was also seen…” Orbit hesitated for a moment, and spoke the next words carefully, “possessing an Eventide blade.”
“An Eventide blade?” Aldrean’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “No one could possess a weapon of that caliber unless they were in the court of the Duskpetal Witch!”
“Yes,” Orbit replied slowly. “That is the problem.”
~
A chorus of rings echoed about the castle rooftops as the two warriors clashed in battle.
“Ironic isn’t it. You saved the king’s life, only to be demoted to a simple tool for reconnaissance,” Eygodon sneered as he took another swipe at her with his claws.
“The king’s mind is not well,” Ethoria replied shortly, dodging his first swipe and blocking the second with her dagger. She followed her defensive move with a thrust of the blades from her bow. “Likely a side effect of the curse you and the Duskpetal Witch inflicted upon him!”
“Well, what really did you expect?” Eygodon said. Blocking the blades only inches from his face, the warlock still grinned mischievously. “Cats are bastards. Though I will say, watching that evolve into the king decreeing laws forbidding Kae-koon women from rescuing him again made for good entertainment. I’m not sure how much longer the king’s unstable mind can withstand the transformation. You may have a dead king soon, or a fully-fledged cat. Who knows what the final stages of this transformation will be, but I’m excited to find out.”
“You’re a revolting creature!” Ethoria shouted, bringing her dagger down at her foe.
“Still better than any Kae-koon!” Eygodon yelled back, dodging the dagger and plunging the claws on his left hand into her shoulder. Ethoria screamed in pain and the dagger fell from her hand, clattering against the rooftop as it slid down.
“Call me what you will,” Eygodon said, flashing a broad smirk. “At least I don’t choose to be subservient to a king who has does not appreciate my efforts, my sacrifices. You’re the fool here, ranger. Your skills would better befit a leader that could appreciate them.”
“Like you?” Ethoria scoffed.
“Well, I am looking to build an army,” Eygodon replied, his voice coated with charm. “You would be a huge improvement to my current second-in-command; and we could really use some diversity in our all-goblin army—”
“The king is only this way because you cursed him!” Ethoria shouted as she thrust her knee upwards, striking the warlock hard in the crotch.
Eygodon yelped and curled over, falling to his knees.
“That was — cheap shot!” he gasped.
“Funny,” Ethoria said, flinching as she rotated her arm. As soon as she realized that she still had full functionality, she pulled out another arrow from her quiver. “That’s exactly how I feel about magic.”
Eygodon quickly tried to push himself off his feet, but roared as an arrow pierced his thigh. He struggled tried to rise again, but fell once again as Ethoria shot him in the other thigh.
“I wouldn’t bother trying again,” Ethoria said confidently. “I’ll aim for something a little more sensitive than taking an arrow to your knee.”
Eygodon tried to move but she was right, he was pinned down on his knees.
Ethoria stared down at her rival. “I remember the moment now, back at Cinder Reign. I think I had somehow forgotten… but it’s coming back to me now. I had defeated you; you were lying on the ground. Though I don’t recall you falling this easily last time,” Ethoria said, pulling the bowstring back with an arrow pointed at the warlock’s head. “Yes… some of our last battle was a bit of blur, but I do remember this.”
“It’s probably better you don’t remember,” Eygodon said, staring up at the ranger. “It would spare you the nightmares. Just
give me the girl and I’ll leave you alone, final offer.”
“You must be mad if you think you’re in the position to be making demands, outlaw,” Ethoria replied, taking aim.
“Truthfully, you’re the one Kae-koon I was hoping to avoid while infiltrating this city,” Eygodon confessed, clenching his fists as he looked down. “Because like last time, you’ve successfully forced me into a corner… but I still have one card left. I regret that the unimaginable amount of pain it will cause me will be carried to her as well. I can withstand the pain, I have felt it for longer than I can remember; it’s eaten away at me — hollowed me out on the inside until only a refined skeleton remains. But to her — to her the pain is fresh, it’s new. I vowed not to go back to that place, Ethoria. Please, for her sake… do not make me go back.”
“Huh… peculiar final words,” Ethoria said, and released her arrow.
Eygodon looked back up, and the arrow pierced his head.
“Hang in there, Wishcaller,” the warlock whispered as blood poured down his face.
A blinding crimson light erupted from the warlock, enveloping him. A powerful shockwave of wind pushed outward.
“Witch’s Blight!” Ethoria yelled, struggling to steady herself so that the blast would not knock her off the castle. “What foul magic is this?”
“The worst kind,” Eygodon’s voice came from the light, his voice now twisted and otherworldly.
~
No sooner had the dragon left, than Sister Clevora and other priestesses rushed to heal and provide support to the injured throughout the city ruins. For many that had been in the path of the dragon’s ire, it was already too late; but she had been able to save some, and keep the hope alive for others.
“Cleric! We need a cleric!”
Sister Clevora turned from a recovering soldier to see two Embervyne rangers rush towards the priestesses. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized who they were carrying.
Two other priestesses reached the rangers first, but they dashed out of the way as Sister Clevora came barreling over.
“Vyra! My sweet dear girl, Vyra! Holy Willow, please I beg you, give her strength!” Sister Clevora shouted, then immediately began reciting an incantation for a healing spell.
