“You are a smart man, Greyson,” Gretta said. I think I made the right choice with you.”
* * *
Commander Voltross was exceptionally strong, but he was overconfident. Lance figured he had to use that to his advantage. Both magic blasts were caught in the middle of the two, neither side giving in.
Lance began to purposely weaken his magic, letting Voltross’ magic press forward. He could see the Commander smiling, his confidence growing as he came closer to his kill. Lance let him believe this. He needed Commander Voltross to fully believe he was winning, and if given enough time, he might very well do so.
Just when the Drakaran Commander’s attack neared his body, Lance put all of his real power behind his attack. As he had hoped, the Commander was completely taken by surprise, Lance’s attacking surging forward and slamming into Voltross’ obsidian armor. He stumbled backward, a large crack down the middle of his breastplate. Although seemingly undamaged, he looked embarrassed and angry at having underestimated Lance’s power.
Voltross drew his sword out, lit it on fire with magic and stormed toward Lance. Lance couldn’t believe his surprise attack barely did anything to slow Voltross down. The Commander was a beast, and an extremely intimidating and powerful one at that. Those red eyes and flaming sword marching toward Lance made a chill creep up his spine. It was like watching death himself coming toward him.
Lance shot a fireball toward the Commander, but Voltross raised a shield and the fire sizzled and dispersed along the circumference of the shield. A few lightning bolts were redirected to Voltross’ sides. A last ditch attack of several sharpened spears was similarly redirected.
Then the Commander was on him and Lance had to raise a shield. Voltross’ attacks felt like they could punch holes in cement. The sword cleaved Lance’s shield in two and kept moving, narrowly missing Lance’s face, but the intense flames caught his robe and lit it on fire.
Lance staggered away and attempted to pat out the flames in a panic. They were not ordinary flames, magically enhanced to endure and cause damage. Quickly realizing it would take more than his hands to pat it out, Lance sprayed the area with ice.
It was easy enough to put out with magic, but the real damage was done. With Lance’s attention fully devoted to putting out the flame, Commander Voltross swung his sword again. Lance looked up at the last second and tried to dodge backward, but landed on his bad leg, which gave out and sent Lance tumbling to the ground.
Commander Voltross pounced like a tiger, grabbing Lance by the collar and lifting him up into the air with an iron grip. Lance’s legs dangled above the ground as he kicked and squirmed, his feet only pushing against the tough obsidian armor. Voltross’ green aura around him sapped Lance’s strength and for some inexplicable reason, also made it difficult to cast a spell of his own.
“This is your champion?” The Drakaran Commander bellowed. “This puny, crippled human is who you send to face me? Watch as I crush him.”
Voltross’ grip tightened around Lance’s throat, constricting is air supply.
* * *
Greyson made his way back to the inn where he was tricked by Merchant Kahlis before. This time, he brought four of his trusted men with him, each with a sword at their side. He strolled right over to the bar where the large bartender’s eyes widened in recognition and he reached for a weapon underneath the counter.
“Don’t even think about it,” Greyson warned, moving with lightning reflexes. His finely sharpened dagger pressed against the big man’s throat.
“How can I help you?” The man asked in a wary voice, placing his hands slowly back onto the counter.
“For starters, if you try to pull something like last time, I will cut your throat before you can say a word,” Greyson replied smoothly. “Find me fifty decent mercenaries by tomorrow.”
“That’s not enough time for so many men,” the bartender protested.
Greyson glared at him. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it happen. And make sure they are all quality. Do it right and I’ll pay you your normal rate. Fail me and I’ll break your legs, you overgrown oaf.”
The bartender began flex his muscles, a tell-tale sign that this could turn ugly. Greyson pressed his dagger harder against the man’s throat, forcing him to stand up straighter to avoid the blade digging into his skin.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Greyson remarked. “Do what I asked and you’ll get a good amount of gold.”
At the mention of the gold, the big man relaxed somewhat. Greyson let his dagger fall away, and he put it back in his side holder.
“Good doing business with you,” Greyson said with a smile.
* * *
Lance panicked. Time seemed to slow down. This one moment in time was the culmination of luck, hard work, and thousands of people relying on him to fulfill a prophecy he himself was doubtful of its validity.
If the prophecy was to be believed, this was his moment to fulfill it. The Drakaran council was dead and if he miraculously killed Commander Voltross, the Drakaran would stop their war with Lance’s planet.
With Commander Voltross’ aura hovering over them both, Lance struggled to form any sort of spell. The Commander’s grip was so tight that it would only be a few more seconds before Lance’s life was cut short, failing himself, his loved one, and the rest of humanity who now watched on in horror.
Lance’s body knew he was about to die, a sense of panic and need to survive stirring his body into action. He might not be able to use magic and he might look scrawny and crippled, but dying is a strong motivator. In a last ditch effort, Lance shot his hand out and stabbed Commander Voltross in the left eye, poking him as hard as he could.
Surprised, Voltross lost his grip and staggered backward, cursing loudly. Lance took the opportunity to throw everything he had at the Drakaran. A spell unlike anything he had ever cast before discharged from his fingertips. A cloud of flame formed into the shape of a massive dragon shot toward the Commander who held up his hands to push it aside. Only, unlike all the other spells the Commander was able to brush aside, the dragon kept its direction, unfazed by the spell. It opened its massive fiery mouth and swallowed the Commander whole. Consumed in a body of fire, Voltross shouted as his armor melted and his flesh burnt to a crisp.
Once the body was turned into a smoldering mess, the fiery dragon disappeared and with it, Lance’s last energy. He fell to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the dirt. Charlotte ran to him, cradling his head gently in her lap, tears of joy at seeing his chest rise and fall with each breath.
General Kirn stepped forward and leaned over to Master Porthos.
“Make my voice so that both armies can hear me,” he directed.
With his voice enhanced, General Kirn addressed the massive armies.
“The Drakaran council is dead, confirmed by Commander Voltross. Commander Voltross is dead. There is no longer a reason to kill other worlds. We will leave your world and return to ours.”
The Drakaran army shifted, clearly unsure of how to react. Their leaders were dead, but they also seemed to not like to take orders from humans.
A mystic suddenly stepped forward.
“I am the new ruler now,” the mystic said. “I am the highest ranking left, and leader of the mystics. Humans are disgusting, weak creatures, but we have no wish to continue the practice of destroying worlds. Leave by nightfall and we will not kill you.”
The Drakaran army looked around, seeing if there was someone who wished to contest the mystic’s authority.
“If there is someone who wishes to challenge me, do so now,” the mystic dared. He waited a few moments, but no one stepped forward. He was clearly very powerful and although some might not have been happy with the turn in events, they knew it would be a battle difficult to win.
“Thought so,” the mystic said. “Now get out of my way humans as I retake the capital and establish order to my world.”
General Kirn gladly ordered his people to carry Lance and make
their way far away from the Drakaran city. There was no time to cheer at the victory or pick up their dead. They had to get away from the Drakaran and let them work things out themselves. Most of all, they had to give Lance some rest and wake him up with enough time to get all of them the hell off this planet.
Chapter 14
Across the Great Sea from Delvin, during a particularly cold winter night, along the edge of a frozen-over pond flanked by hardened Elm trees, sat a teenage girl, shivering among her tattered rags and holed socks. Her bright blue eyes, once sparkling and full of hope, now gazed across the wintry landscape with hate and despair.
Her hands had gone numb while constructing the ritual pyramid from blocks of ice, and her body was quickly following suit, her strong will and hardened strength finally starting to succumb to the power of the winter storm. Wind poked at her body from all sides like thousands of tiny needles, threatening to tear her skin apart. The small amount of silver flakes her sister had leant her was barely enough to summon the ritual ice structure.
"I...am...waiting," she managed to say, her lips trembling.
Still nothing happened. She had come all this way for nothing. Her people’s prophecy was wrong. The Ice Giant would not save them. She would die here, in the middle of nowhere, her only company a snow owl perched on one of the tree's limbs. The owl watched her as if this was some amusing play, her life a mere spectacle. If she wasn't so cold she might try to throw a rock at it. If she was going to die, she didn't want any sort of audience.
She couldn't spare any energy though. Her entire body begged her to lay down, to rest her weary eyes and drift into a peaceful sleep. But she knew if she did so, it would be her last. And despite her depleted will, she still had a mission to complete.
The ice in the center of the pond began to tremble. She shook her head to clear her senses and watched in hope as the ice began to crack. First, tiny lines appeared, spreading out like cobwebs, and then large chunks broke off. She stood up on shaky legs, stumbling forward.
"I...am here," she whimpered. "I've been waiting."
Still nothing happened. The ice stood still. The owl gave a bored hoot and shifted on its perch.
Perhaps the village stories were just myths, old tales meant to entertain and frighten children. Her freezing body momentarily heated up from the boiling anger within her at having not only wasted her time, but risked her life as well.
Then, out of the water came the Ice Giant, his grizzled beard covered in icicles. He pulled himself up and stood on solid ice, his clothes frozen stiff, his massive frame covered in a wintry mixture of snow, water and ice. He was taller by a head than any wild stallion she had seen before, and much taller than any villager.
"Who are you?" The Ice Giant asked, his voice deep and confident. He stared at her with piercing eyes, reading and judging her. His gaze made her feel uncomfortable. The wind felt like it was cutting through her, trying to open her skin, allowing him to see the inside of her, her soul exposed, all her secrets left bare. She knew she could not lie to him, even if she had wanted to do so.
"I am Raven," she answered, doing her best to stand up straight. She tried to hide her shivering body.
He laughed.
"You are too young to seek me," The Ice Giant said. "Be gone."
"I didn't come all this way for nothing," Raven pleaded.
"No," The Ice Giant grumbled. "I know why you came here. You waste your time." He turned to leave.
"Please!" Raven shouted, her voice echoing across the pond. "If you don't help me, my people will die!"
The Ice Giant turned back around. "Then your people will die. I don't meddle in human affairs. You should never have called on me."
Raven stumbled and fell to the ice, her knees scraping along the hard surface. She hardly noticed the pain as her body felt numb with cold. She lifted her head with great effort and met his eyes, refusing to give up.
"But the prophecy says you protect us. If my people die then the entire forest you live in will be destroyed," Raven said. "The undead burn everything in their path. They are pure evil."
The Ice Giant paused and thought, his sharp, red eyes looking through her, seeing things she could not see, remembering times she had no memory of.
"Your people cannot fight them, even with my help," he finally said. "Your people's fate is sealed. They might destroy my earthly domain, but they cannot touch me beneath the ice."
"You can't just leave us to die!" Raven yelled.
"I can and I will," he stated in a matter of fact, deadpan voice. The Ice Giant turned and stepped slowly back beneath the depths of the water.
Raven watched as the ice coalesced above the top of the water, sealing the hole as if it had never been there. The power of the silver flowing through her veins no longer warmed her, her spirit defeated.
Raven would have cried if her tears didn't freeze as soon as they formed.
* * *
Raven wasn't sure how her legs were still moving, albeit one painstaking inch at a time. She pushed forward knowing she had to make it back to her village to tell the others the bad news, that despite their pleas, they would be left alone to face their enemy. No one would come to their aid. Hundreds of good men, women, and children would perish simply because they were in the way.
"It isn't fair," she muttered, the bitter cold air and her cracked lips making it difficult to talk.
She didn't want to see the look of disappointment on her sister's face when she returned. Myra was always the optimistic one. She probably expected Raven to return with an army behind her, ready to fight and defend the entire village.
Raven crested the final hill after slipping on its icy surface many times. A memory of her and her sister sliding down this very hill when they were younger brought a smile to her face. It would be nice to give Myra a hug, especially after everything she had been through making it to the Ice Giant. A warm blanket and some hot tea would cheer her up. Maybe Rikku had good fortune in his last hunt and caught a deer. Old Meryl knew how to turn any hunt into a feast fit for a king. A good venison stew would bring warmth and energy back into her body.
Raven's smile vanished. She fell to her knees in shock, a sense of utter despair descending over her. Her entire village was on fire, smoke billowing into the sky. The acrid smell of death wafted across her nostrils and confirmed what her eyes already saw. Bodies were piled along the outside of the rows of huts, her sister most likely among them.
She scanned for signs of life, but there was no movement; just the stillness of death. The vultures would come soon to pick at the carcasses. The vultures in the North Valley were three, sometimes even four times the size of vultures in the South Kingdoms. Raven’s people hated them. They were sure signs of death and disease, omens of bad fortune. Her sister deserved better than that. She would find Myra and bury her like she would do for her if their roles were reversed.
Making her way toward the remains of her people, Raven felt like she was in a dream. Every step she took she imagined she would wake up safe and snug in her hut among her people. It hadn’t been a spoiled life, but it certainly wasn’t terrible either. The North Valley was a harsh landscape, but her people made it worth living in. Everyone pitched in. Now, there was nothing left but the lifeless stares of her once family and friends, a stark reminder of the power of the Undead. Her people knew the Undead were awakening, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. The blood red clouds and the Death constellation in the night sky growing brighter each day foretold their coming. The undead were here.
As she walked, Raven passed several of her childhood friends, their bodies contorted and frozen in random positions, their skin scorched from unimaginable heat. The vultures would come soon. They always did.
Sure enough, as if on cue, a flock of vultures came across the horizon, circling above, their beady eyes scanning the ground to gauge how safe their soon to be feast would be.
The thought of their pointy beaks tearing at her sister's flesh was too much
to bare. She should have been here for her. Instead she went off on some stupid mission with little hope of success.
Raven’s body was beyond weary, but the need to find her sister gave her renewed strength.
Plodding through the fresh layer of snow, Raven made her way to the first body. Elsa, her childhood friend, looked like she had almost made it away from the deadly fire, but her eyes were permanently frozen in fear. That look of horror would forever be etched into Raven's mind. Elsa died looking up and behind her, staring into her death from above. Half her body was covered in burns, the other side covered in ice.
Raven knelt down and closed Elsa's eyelids, then riddled with guilt, she removed Elsa’s warm fur boots. They were far too big for Raven, but it was better than letting frostbite set in. She'd seen firsthand what that did to a body.
"You! Girl!" a commanding voice called from behind her.
Raven whirled around to see two dozen men on horseback. The rider in front wore a crown topped with jewels. His horse, a powerful, sleek black stallion neighed and shook its head.
"What happened here? Speak quickly."
Raven thought about running, but in her tired condition and the men on horseback meant she wouldn't get far.
"The Undead have awakened," Raven said.
Her voice was hoarse and dry. She heard herself speaking, but it was as if she were an observer far away, her own voice unrecognizable.
The man wearing the crown shook his head in disbelief.
"Did you hear that? The girl thinks mythological creatures did this." The other horsemen shook their heads and rolled their eyes.
"They did. I swear it," Raven said. “They burned my village down!” Her eyes filled with tears, setting her into a blinding rage. Her heart felt as though it would burst through her chest at any moment.
"She must have gone mad with the cold," the man said, shaking his head again. He looked at her with pity in his eyes. "These winters are harsh. I’ve seen the cold creep up on even the strongest minds. I am Lord Reghan. You're lucky we found you on our way home. We'll take you back to my castle."
Underdog Mage Chronicles_The War Page 7
