by Paul Sobol
This was it, his moment to shine.
If he could take down this dark magician it would prove his capabilities, and deciding to change tactics he discarded the shield spell in favour of something a little more…explosive.
The log burst, showering the ground with hot embers that crackled and popped as the last remains of wood burned away. Silver kicked the charred and smouldering tree branch back into the pile that had started out, hours ago, as a decent sized bonfire at the centre of the gathering. Bodies, of dark magicians and their innocent victims littered the ground, though it was nearly impossible now to tell them apart. The fighting had been quick but intense, leaving none alive.
Dark magicians had seen to that.
The carnage did not bother Silver, but for some unknown reason he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that something was still wrong. The ceremony had been stopped at the last minute, and Khaldun was most likely kicking his heels back in hell. Looking up he saw the blue shield was a lot smaller, at least half its original size, which meant the outer groups of magicians would be taking care of the last stragglers.
Occasionally the shield still flared as it consumed anything attempting to hide from the roaming groups of light mages assigned as clean-up crew. But now the shield was calm, the same uniform electric blue colour, and within the hour shrink to nothingness. Only then would they leave, knowing the entire forest was fully cleansed.
Crossing over to Archer they exchanged silent nods in salute to a job well done. His long time stalwart companion, Archer was the single magician he trusted, unreservedly, with his life. The smile she flashed him spoke volumes, and he was thankful nothing had happened to her. Unfortunately he couldn’t say the same for a few others. “Casualties?” He quietly asked.
“At least a dozen wounded but nothing serious, healers are attending to them now and we should be ready to evacuate soon.” Archer replied. “However, we’ve lost contact with two outer groups that were responsible for patrolling the shield’s southern perimeter. I’ve despatched two groups to find them.”
“Alex is with one of those missing groups, do you think…”
“There’s no point in guessing, we’ll know soon enough.” Archer replied tersely. Just like a good soldier, thought Silver. Keep emotion out of this. “But personally, I think he’s still alive.”
Silver nodded.
Turning away, Silver walked a few paces and stopped at the low stone table used as a ceremonial altar. The roughly hewn granite was slick with blood that filled the carved mystical symbols on the surface. The lingering power summoned from realms unknown was like a stench hanging in the air. Silver placed a hand over the cold stone altar and began a low monotonous incantation.
Pure white energy gathered within his chest. Slowly it expanded up his shoulder, down his arm and out of his fingers. The tendrils of power intertwined with each other as they descended towards the unholy altar. Accompanied with a deafening thunderclap the pattern of energy created by Silver smashed through the stone as though it were paper, sending dust and small pebbles exploding outward.
Satisfied the dark artefact was beyond reconstruction, Silver turned to begin work on the dismembered corpses littering the clearing. Unfortunately the innocent would share the same funeral pyre as the dark magicians and their minions. Silver reached down to pick up a severed arm, its owner somewhere amongst the dozens of corpses by his feet, but the ground violently moved beneath his feet.
Sailing through the air, Silver realised it wasn’t the ground that was moving, he was, and right into tree. The impact was somewhat lessened thanks to a hastily erected shield of protection, but he definitely felt a rib or two crack as his body smashed against the immovable object. Dazed, and barely holding onto consciousness through a haze of blossoming pain around his torso, Silver looked around. Magicians lay everywhere, in various states ranging mostly from immobile to a lucky few who were able to gain their feet.
The blast, whatever it was, had certainly caused a lot of damage, especially to the unfortunate few who hadn’t summoned their shields in time. Their bodies lay strewn around, broken and twisted, amidst piles of other body parts that were also flung across the clearing. One poor magician hung lifelessly from a tree branch, impaled, his innards spilling out from the gaping wound in his abdomen.
Sickened, Silver had to look away from the carnage. As his senses slowly returned he realised Archer was kneeling over him, shouting, but he couldn’t hear her. “What?” His own voice sounded heavily muffled. Then it made sense – he was deaf. But not only that, the pain in his chest was increasing. That’s when he noticed Archer’s hands were glowing blue. She was attempting to heal his injuries.
Concentrating on drawing his mana, Silver opened himself up and reached into the reservoir of power available to him. It was difficult at first, like trying to catch smoke with bare hands, but slowly the mana began to trickle into his grasp. With Archer’s assistance the combined healing energies went to work quickly, repairing the more critically damaged areas, and soon Silver felt much better. His breathing was no longer laboured and the cracked ribs, although still very tender, were no longer posing a threat of re-puncturing his lungs.
Capable of once again moving Silver got to his feet, albeit with a little aid. After what he had just experienced he wasn’t about to refuse assistance, and holding onto Archer’s arm he surveyed the explosion’s aftermath. Thankfully more magicians were being treated, and a rough estimate put the death-toll around five. Silver fumed. Even though they all knew the risks, he took each death personally. Most were Order members – good men and women he had served with for a very long time.
“Everything is under control here, let’s go investigate that explosion.”
Archer shouted out commands to several able magicians who weren’t involved with the relief effort. An escort was hastily assembled and the small group made their way through the forest to where the explosion was believed to originate.
They were heading south, and Silver couldn’t help but wonder if Alex had been involved with the incident. The young apprentice mage was powerful enough, but where on earth did he learn such a destructive spell? Traces of energy used in the spell lingered on the air almost like a palpable scent, and Silver could easily tell it had come from a light magician. There was most likely a good explanation for this, he thought. So don’t let imagination get the better of you.
Chapter Fourteen
The first blast of energy was deflected into the surrounding trees which ignited with a fierce intensity. In response, a volley of purple bolts sped across the space to be stopped by a shield of golden energy. But the dark forces unleashed against Alex’s shields weakening it with every attack. Fear and rising panic rippled through his body, and for a brief moment Alex lost focus. I mustn’t be afraid. I can beat him. This simple phrase repeated itself like a mantra, and steeling his resolve by pure force of will Alex reached deeper within for more power.
His opponent, shrouded in darkness, sensed the sudden change and let out a soft laugh. It was an eerie sound, unnatural, as though it had no right to exist in this realm. Hands raised towards the young magician, purple lightning crackled from its blackened fingers. The lightning bolts struck the golden shield which visibly shrunk in size and luminosity.
Knowing he didn’t have much longer before the spell broke through, Alex sent his power into the ground. Thin tree roots ripped free of the loamy soil and wove together to form thick braids which quickly moved along the forest floor like snakes. Guided by Alex’s will the tree roots lashed towards their intended target. The dark mage was thrown off balance as his legs became entangled, and within moments the animated roots wrapped around his shifting form.
With arms and legs immobilised the dark magician let out a string of curses. Although unable to make out the words Alex was fairly certain he was speaking Latin. He wondered if perhaps this was the notorious Khaldun – the necromancer responsible for the deaths of millions during the Dark Ages – the one
they were supposed to prevent from being resurrected. If so, they hadn’t done a good job thus far.
It wasn’t long before the roots entwined the magician’s body, and soon even his shouting was cut off as his face became covered. This seems too easy, Alex thought. A powerful mage like Khaldun wouldn’t be trapped by such a simple spell. Better not underestimate his abilities, so let’s finish this now.
In each hand a small sphere of fire ignited, and moulding them together he fed the fireball spell with more mana. The raging inferno between his open palms was about the size of a basketball and gaining intensity. The fireball now resembled a small sun, and Alex had to squint against the glare to see his target. Like a grotesque wooden maggot, the dark magician thrashed against his bonds attempting to escape, completely oblivious to his imminent fiery demise.
The tree roots ignited immediately once the fireball came into contact, and hungrily the orange tongues of flame consumed the source of fuel quickly. The sudden intense heat caused Alex to take a few steps back, shielding his eyes from the blaze. Had he remained in place the resulting explosion would have killed him instantly, instead he was merely thrown several feet backwards, only stopping when an inconsiderate tree got in his way. The impact was hard, and Alex slumped to the ground unconscious.
Free of his burning prison, Khaldun surveyed the extent of his handiwork – trees 0, dark mage 1. Spying the unconscious form of his adversary the dark magician calmly crossed the short distance. Tentatively he prodded the still body with a shadowy foot, and seeing no response knelt down on the leafy soil. Lifting Alex’s head he carefully examined the young magician.
Life persisted.
A shame really, he could have been a worthy adversary, especially one with so much power. “Death is not the end. You will continue on, maybe to something better. Before you die, know that your body shall live a lot longer, serving as vessel once I am fully resurrected. For that I thank you.”
Khaldun ran a shadowy finger down the side of Alex’s face.
“Stop that, it tickles.”
“Just seeing if you’re awake.”
“Well, I am now. What do you want?” Grumpily Alex kept his eyes closed and pretended to go back to sleep.
“You need to get up. There’s a lot of work to be done, and as usual very little time to do it in.”
“Who are you, my mother?”
“Yes, now get up.”
Even though there was no anger in her voice, Alex sensed she was being serious. He had never heard his mother speak to him in such a way, which made him suspect something might be wrong. Most likely he had forgotten to do his chores again and this was his payback.
Opening one eye partially he noticed it was still dark outside. Damn, just how early was it? Pulling back the covers a little, Alex tried to roll over and check the bedside clock. Something was definitely wrong, but with him. He was paralysed from the waist down.
“I would love to get up,” he said, fighting rising panic, “but I seem to have a little problem.”
The presence in the room came closer and stood over him, but unable to turn around Alex couldn’t make out who it was. The voice was familiar, like he had heard it before, but at the moment he couldn’t quite remember where or when.
“Hmmm. That is a problem. Seems your back is broken. Most likely when you hit the tree.”
Tree? What tree?
Struggling with a sluggish memory Alex tried harder to recall the moments before waking up, but like a dream the images and feelings rapidly dissolved. One of the last things he did remember was of a dark forest. Shadows. Fire. Then nothing.
A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. “Please. I don’t want to be like this.”
“I wish I could help, but…it’s complicated.”
“Please…help me.” The last words were strangled, as though they were difficult to say. More tears flowed down his cheek to be soaked up by the white pillow beneath his head.
The woman standing over him ran a finger lovingly down his face.
Purple energy pulsed around the still form lying at Khaldun’s feet. The incantation was lengthy and complicated, but the dark mage forged on with the spell that would see him fully brought into this world. The misguided fools who had begun the resurrection ritual earlier that night paid for their incompetence.
At the last moment, before he could cement his connection to this world, the ritual had been interrupted. Half in this world, half in the realm of death, his shadowy form had been flung across the forest only to rebound from that infernal blue shield. Trapped, there weren’t many options left to him. He had gotten lucky once, when he ambushed a roving band of magicians, but even stealing their meagre power wasn’t enough to complete his cross over.
Unfortunately, being half dead and half alive meant he only had access to, that’s right, half his power. So coming across another magician with extraordinary power was a welcome boon, and had Khaldun believed in a deity he would have definitely thanked it.
Wasting little time, the dark mage had begun incanting the spell that would bring him fully into this world. But rather than made whole again he would transfer into another younger, more powerful, body. And besides, there were still some old crones about who might recognise his old self, at least this way he could move around unnoticed.
Alex opened his eyes, but rather than the normal light shade of blue they shone with an unearthly white glow. Words of power slipped from between his lips in an unknown language and the purple energy wreathing his head faded as though it were smoke on the wind. Startled, Khaldun backed away quickly. “Impossible! You cannot interfere, it is Law!”
“You cannot have this one, he is under my protection. I will give you this chance to leave, necromancer, otherwise you will face judgment for crimes against this race.”
Khaldun looked thoughtful for a moment as he considered his options. There was no point in fighting, even at full strength he was no match for one of the First. But that in itself was worth considering. Why was this boy protected, and from whom? Surely no him. No. The First don’t get involved with the affairs of mortals or magicians, except when something much larger was at stake. His reincarnation, while not trivial, could hardly be considered a universal emergency.
Time was running out, Khaldun had to choose between fight and flight, but neither option seemed satisfactory. There was no doubt the First had enough power to obliterate him from existence, but running away was no better considering he was still trapped within the blue dome with a lot of light magicians.
Turning to leave, Khaldun summoned the one thing that had a chance of turning the tables. In his hand appeared a four-bladed dagger fashioned from pure obsidian. The smooth blackened glass handle was etched with mystical runes that glowed with dark energy. In his hand the weapon almost felt alive, and in one swift motion the necromancer turned and threw the dagger.
White energy flared around Alex as a shield of protection was hastily established, but the black dagger passed through, unhindered, and buried itself into his shoulder. The dagger, a living artefact, began to drink hungrily from the sudden available source of blood and mana. Screaming in pain, Alex tried to pull the blade free, but like a pit-bull dog it clung tenaciously to his flesh and burrowed even deeper.
Realising the dagger was impervious to magic Alex had only one option left - kill the magician who had summoned it. With Khaldun’s death the vampiric dagger would disappear. Alex hastily drew on mystical energies from planes of existence unknown to most magicians, and with this alien power was able to stem the draining effect of the obsidian artefact.
Dark magic rushed towards the young magician whose eyes blazed with white light. The attack was neutralised as more white energy was summoned, and the two opposing forces cancelled each other in a spectacular flash of light. Remaining on the offensive, Khaldun pressed the attack with more bolts of purple energy, but each one was stopped before reaching their intended target.
Cursing, the necromancer doubled his eff
orts. If he lost the advantage it would all be over. Only stalling for time would he be victorious, as the black dagger weakened his opponent. Alex, having lost a lot of blood, felt light headed. The continued assault was wasting precious time. Time to fight fire with more fire!
In a momentary lull, as both sides gathered more power, Alex summoned his own weapon. Pain lanced through his torso, radiating from his wounded shoulder as the heavy scythe materialised in his hands. The wicked blade atop the wooden shaft could have been fashioned from the same source as the four-sided obsidian dagger.
Purple fire enveloped the young magician, but the raging inferno soon died out as the spell was countered. Standing unharmed, Alex twirled the scythe in his hands even though the movement caused more pain to flood his already over-taxed system.
Seeing his foe unaffected, Khaldun paused momentarily in surprise. The dark spells he had prepared suddenly flittered from memory and panic blossomed deep inside. For the second time tonight he was almost stunned speechless by the impossible.
“Sedu-zuh.” The words barely made it out of his mouth coherently. “Where did you get that?”
Alex took a moment as if examining the huge scythe in his hands. “You recognise it. Soul-Stealer was a spoil of war, taken from a Demon Lord cast down into the deepest realm of hell.”
Khaldun knew exactly who the weapon belonged to, but he never would have expected to see it, considering who wielded it now. “Hardly the choice of weapon for one of the First, which means Sedu-zuh belongs to the one you’re protecting. Interesting.”
“Stalling for time won’t change your Fate now. Khaldun, for the crimes committed against this race you are henceforth banished to the lowest plane,” said Alex.
