by Aaron Hodges
Had he been able to move, Eric would have thrashed about in panic then. But the weight of a mountain had settled on him, trapping him in place. Coarse stones dug into his skin and a dusty darkness met him when he opened his eyes. Already the air tasted stale, his panicked gasps quickly using up what little remained.
How deep am I buried? A suffocating fear swelled within him. He held it down, struggling for calm. Panic would serve no use now. He had to think.
Gritting his teeth, Eric tried moving different parts of his body. Another bout of terror threatened to overwhelm him as he realised the pressure had locked his legs in place. He clenched a fist and found he could at least move an arm. Stones rattled and he realised where the sound came from – the slow, unrelenting crawl of gravel down towards the valley floor.
Still on the verge of panic, Eric tried to move again. A shiver ran up his arm as stones tore through his skin. Curled into a ball, he attempted to lift his arms, trying to dislodge the stones either side of his body.
Time passed and his efforts grew weaker, but he knew he was making progress. The stones pressed down on his back, the pressure growing with every strained breath. Finally, he managed create enough space to move his arms with relative freedom. Reaching out, he began to clear space beneath him so he could straighten his legs.
Sharp points stabbed him, slicing through his clothes and grinding against raw flesh. Fear dulled the pain and drove him on. Exhaustion slowed him, but there in the darkness he had only one goal: to escape. As the stones slid away, he twisted, levering himself into a better position. Taking another breath of stale air, he started digging in the direction he prayed was up.
Suddenly the stones to his right gave way, his movement undermining the slope’s fragile balance. He shrank back as earth roared and the slope collapsed. Light flooded the darkness. Eric sucked in a breath of fresh air and levered his arms beneath him. Using every ounce of his strength, he pulled himself from the scree and back to his feet.
His boots sank to his ankles and stones rattled away from him, another landslide already threatening. Eric did not stop to think. He leapt, fear propelling him downwards. Each bound carried him closer to safety. Stones slipped beneath him with each crash landing, the force of impact flinging them up at his face.
When he reached the bottom, Eric almost dropped to his knees to kiss the ground. Puffing, he resisted and continued into the valley until sure he was beyond range of stray rocks. Then he collapsed to the ground and looked back at the slope. It towered over him, giving no hint anyone had ever passed that way.
How long was I buried? He wondered, looking for sign of Enala.
The hairs on his neck prickled when he saw no sign of her.
Turning to face the valley, he climbed to his feet and began to run.
*************
Enala ducked beneath a decapitating blow and threw herself backwards. To her left Laurel darted in and swung at the skeleton. It spun with almost casual speed, its rusted scimitar turning aside the blow. A contemptuous backhand sent Laurel reeling.
Driving herself forwards, Enala stabbed at the yellowed skull. The skeleton leaned back and her sword fell short. Instinct kicked in, sending Enala sideways as the scimitar sliced through the air she had just occupied.
Laurel regained her feet and threw herself back into the fight. They shared a glance, then attacked together, blades slashing out like vipers. Using every scrap of strength they could muster, they forced the demonic creature back – one step, then two. Yet still the ancient blade blocked their every attack, the dull ring of its steel mocking them.
Enala could not help but think it was toying with them.
Then as Enala launched herself forward, slicing low at its legs, the skeleton stepped up to meet her. It turned her blow away with ease, then the rusted scimitar flashed out, driving into her side.
Enala screamed and lurched backwards. Laurel charged in to halt the creature’s next attack, her frantic blows keeping it at bay.
Enala’s hand groped to her side and felt hot blood. Pain throbbed from the wound, sending tremors down to her knees. She clenched her teeth and pressed hard against the gash. She risked a glance at their foe and quickly looked away.
Two steps away, Laurel was fighting for her life. It was clear the creature had her hopelessly outmatched. The skeleton cackled each time she swung her sword, batting away her attacks like a cat playing with a mouse. Without aid, Laurel would not last thirty seconds.
Swallowing her pain, Enala released her side and gripped Alastair’s sword in both hands. Blood rushed from the wound and ran down her leg, but she drew on her courage and dove back into the fight.
The skeleton’s grin widened as it watched her approach.
“I see you enjoy pain, young one,” it’s laughter sent shivers down her spine.
Enala ignored the taunt. She gritted her teeth, fighting to keep her feet as agony swept through her body.
The skeleton cackled and spun towards her. Enala brought up her sword and swung it at the deathly skull with all her strength.
The creature reached up and caught it in one skeletal hand.
Enala gasped as ice swept the blood from her face.
Before either of them could react, the skeleton drove its rusted blade up into her unprotected body.
Whatever pain Enala had felt before, it now fled before the white hot agony sweeping from her stomach. It spread down her legs and along her arms, overwhelming all other sensation. She heard a distant ring of metal on stone, and wondered if she had dropped her sword. She tried to clench her fist, and realised she could not feel her hands.
Enala stumbled backwards, collapsing to her knees. A strange ringing started in her ears, a bell tolling with each thump of her heart.
The skeleton stepped towards her.
Laurel looked between them, eyes wide with shock and terror, and vanished.
Head bobbing, Enala watched her foe approach. Tears sprang to her eyes as she struggled to control her body, determined at least to defy this creature to her last dying breath. A gurgle rose in her chest and she tasted blood, but she looked at her foe in defiance.
Pain radiated through every fibre of her being. She felt something else rising with it.
The creature looked down at her, skeletal fingers clenched around the hilt of its ancient weapon. From so close, she could see the blood of long dead foes congealed on the rust-flecked metal. It held the weapon poised over her, ready to slash the head from her shoulders.
Then it withdrew the blade, and a whispering cackle echoed up from somewhere in its yellowed skull. “Not so easy for you, young one. Did I not say your death would take an eon?”
Slowly, the creature’s words sank in, seeping through the agony of her fractured mind. Fear chilled the pain spreading through her body. Looking up at the creature, hands clenched to her gut, Enala felt her terror take light. She glared at the creature, allowing the power within her to grow, letting its mocking grin feed the flames within. Energy pulsed through her veins, throwing back the shackles of her pain.
Enala felt heat in the palms of her hands.
With a scream of defiance, she threw her arms out at the creature.
Flames roared and raced towards the monster.
*************
Eric sprinted down the ancient stream bed, rocks slipping beneath his booted feet. Several times he came close to twisting his ankle as he leapt between boulders, the broken surface threatening to send him tumbling. He paid little heed. His lungs burned and his heart pumped hard in his chest.
Please don’t be too late!
The ring of blades carried to his ears, echoing off the white-washed cliffs. There was no way of telling how far off they were, but he pushed himself harder, picking up speed. He did not stop to question how Enala had gotten a weapon.
The empty sky stretched out, unbroken, giving no hint to the passage of time. Hours could have passed since the landslide buried him. Eric recalled the power of the creature
they faced all too well. Not even Alastair could stand against it; Enala would not stand a chance.
His foot landed awkwardly on a loose rock and sent him spinning across the ground. Gravel sliced at his skin, but he rolled and came up running again. He dodged around a bend in the canyon, his foot striking the opposite cliff to make the turn without slowing.
Ahead the canyon straightened. At its end he caught a glimpse of Enala, on her knees and staring up at the dark skeleton he remembered all too well from Antonia’s vision.
As he watched, flames erupted from the girl to engulf the skeleton.
Putting down his head, Eric sprinted for the conflagration. His spirit soared as he sensed the swelling of magic. Enala’s magic had responded again to her need, summoning heat from the scorching wasteland to burn the skeleton from their path. Perhaps her power could do what Alastair’s could not.
Or perhaps not.
Eric ran harder, determined to reach Enala and do what he could to help. He just hoped her magic did not spread as it had in the Baronian camp; there was no wind here to carry him from harms reach.
With a gasp of relief, he drew to a stop behind Enala. He raised a hand to shield his face from the heat, taking in the scene in a single glance. Enala knelt on the ground, flames pouring from her small frame to envelop their foe.
But now Eric saw the blood staining the ground beneath her, saw Enala swaying and the tremble in her arms. A gasp gurgled from her throat and she dropped one hand, halving the flow of fire. A chill swept through him as he realised Enala could lose consciousness at any moment.
Laughter came from the conflagration enveloping the skeleton. Its dark shadow appeared against the flames. The pop of stones shattering beneath its feet sounded unbelievably loud to Eric’s ears. He heard Enala sob in frustration, saw her other arm begin to dip.
Eric stood behind her, fists clenched in rage. He had no weapon to fight with, but he could not just stand by and watch the cursed skeleton prevail. In desperation, he reached for his magic, for any power that might offer them salvation.
His magic rose at his touch, his fear feeding it strength. Before he could pull back he saw it changing, morphing into the wolf that still haunted his dreams. It stood before his inner mind, teeth bared, fur flickering with the blue light of his magic. It growled, towering over his feeble mind.
But Eric was stronger now, and he knew he could best this beast. He stared back, pushing down his fear, seeking to drive the wolf back into its cage.
It stepped towards him, already shrinking before his courage. Grinning, he approached it, confident in his strength.
It leapt, teeth bared, and struck his spirit form. Its teeth tore into him, sending pain lancing through his soul. The fear returned, stealing away his strength and feeding the wolf’s. He fought back, pressing out with his mind, struggling to force the beast from him.
A voice whispered in his mind then, cold and devoid of life. Stop, you fool. This is the only chance we have.
Eric froze at the urgency in the voice, his defences slipping. The speaker seemed familiar, though he was sure he had never heard it before. Too late, he realised it came from the wolf. Its jaws ripped out, enveloping his conscious.
Eric’s eyes opened and the magic stared out, taking in the skeleton emerging from the flames. It stalked towards Enala, scimitar in one hand, the other stretched out to fend off her attack. A tremor ran through Eric’s body as energy surged into his veins
Eric smiled – or rather the magic forced a twisted grin to his lips. It knew how to handle this foe. The answers lay not in the wasteland without, devoid of any force capable of harming it, but with the power hidden within. Reaching into the pool of magic at their core, it searched for the power Eric had buried there so long ago.
Lightning flickered in Eric’s inner eye, rising from deep within. The same lightning he had pulled inside all that time ago, in the desert of Chole. The lightning Alastair had once told him might one day save his life.
With a roar of thunder, it returned to the mortal world. The hairs on Eric’s arms rose as it crept along his skin, crackling as it went, eager to finally be spent. Blue light flickered in Eric’s eyes. A surge of greed overtook him as he looked on the raw energy. He shivered at the raw thirst of the magic, its demand for more.
The skeleton turned to stare at him. Somehow, he could see now the fear in its empty eyes. The skull’s grin faded against the lightning’s glare.
Eric laughed, the sound a dull imitation of his usual baritone. He pointed a finger. Lightning flickered along its tip, and leapt for the skeleton. The blue energy merged with the flames still streaming from Enala, and struck the skeleton. A roar echoed from the cliffs, followed by a dull boom.
The skeleton screamed, stumbling back before the combined force of their magic. It screamed again, jaw hanging wide as the heat took hold. As they watched, the bones of its face started to melt, the yellowed bone blackening before their eyes. Energy crackled in the air.
Scimitar raised, the skeleton stepped towards them, but its leg gave way, snapping beneath its weight. The creature fell to the ground, blue and red flames still flickering over its body. It clawed at the stones, reaching for them.
They watched as its yellowed bones melted away to nothing.
The magic within Eric looked around in triumph, its power swelling, spreading through his body. Eric shrank before it, feeling himself being thrust back from the world. Sight and sound retreated against the roar of its might.
“Eric,” Enala croaked, “help me!”
Enala’s words pierced the fog, slicing through the magic’s spell. His conscious rose, fighting back against the power that controlled him. The pressure in his skull grew, soul and magic vying for supremacy. But its desperation shone through, feeding him strength, even as its claws dragged through his mind.
“Help…” Enala’s voice was growing weaker.
The magic’s hold snapped and Eric found himself returned to his body. Turning the hooks on the magic which bore them, he hurled it back into the depths of his mind.
He stumbled towards Enala. Her torn shirt hid the full extent of her injuries, but the pool of blood told the story for him. She needed help, and quickly. Alastair’s sword lay beside her, and he quickly slipped it into his belt. Then Eric crouched beside her and swept her into his arms.
He stumbled towards the arch, strength fading, and prayed salvation waited for them on the other side.
Eighteen
Gabriel’s footsteps pounded down the bricked road, fear sending strength to his limbs. Somewhere in the city a bell tolled, calling the soldiers to war. Terrified citizens leapt from their path, hurrying back into the scant shelter of their houses. He was closing on Caelin now, though Inken and Katya were only a few steps behind.
A single question tumbled through Gabriel’s mind as he chased after Caelin.
Is it the demon?
The wall loomed ahead, the pale figures of the city guard scurrying across the ramparts. Their movements seemed panicked, chaotic.
“What’s happening up there?” Gabriel shouted over the clang of bells.
“Nothing good,” Inken hissed as she drew level with him.
“If it’s the demon, we don’t stand a chance,” Gabriel whispered, half to himself.
A chill dread crept into his stomach as they reached the walls. Caelin bounded up the steps, Inken not far behind. Gabriel followed, heart pounding, waking nightmares of the demon sending terror through his very soul. Never before had he felt so helpless; to stand before the dark magic wielded by the creature, and know he could do nothing to save Enala from its wrath.
Even so, he would not bend now. As long as he lived, he would fight.
Their boots thumped on the stone stairs, tiny pebbles scattering beneath their feet. The cries from the guards grew more frantic as they approached. Gabriel struggled to stop the shaking in his legs, pushing down his fear.
At the top they did not pause, the three of them and Katya
spilling out onto the battlements. Men milled about them, staring out over the dark waters of the lake. Gabriel held a hand over his eyes to shield them from the autumn sun, squinting at the distant hills. The sun’s warmth returned some of the feeling to his hands, frozen by the cool air.
Together they looked out over the lake, expecting to see the dark silhouette of the demon soaring towards them.
Instead, Gabriel found his fear turning to awe. Across the lake, a dozen golden specks marred the horizon, miles away still, but coming closer with each passing second. Gabriel stared, not quite believing what his eyes told him.
He had never seen the Gold Dragons before, only the vicious Red which had almost killed him. His heart soared all the same, his thoughts turning to Enala, and the sudden hope she might be with the creatures.
The specks continued to grow, until soon Gabriel could make out each beat of their golden wings, see the flick of their tails and the rows of teeth glinting in the sun. Reptilian tongues flicked out as they approached, flames licking the air before them.
Gabriel held his breath. Not one of them could believe it. They could only stand there and stare in wonder, unable to comprehend this miracle, but thankful beyond measure. The Gold Dragons could only be here to help in the fight against Archon, to fulfil their part in the ancient treaty.
Beside him, Caelin thrust his fist into the air in silent joy.
Gabriel grinned. Now, surely, they might just stand a chance.
“Men, stand to!” Gabriel felt his hopes curdling as Katya’s voice bellowed across the wall.
*************
An icy breeze swept over Eric as he stepped from the portal onto the neatly manicured lawns of the citadel. He shivered in the frigid air, turning to stare at the stone walls rising up about him. Torches burned in brackets around the courtyard, their light casting an orange glow across the snowy grass. Stars lit the sky and somewhere in the darkness an owl called.
Eric stumbled as he shifted Enala’s weight to his other shoulder. He squinted against the torchlight, searching for an exit.
