by Ben Wolf
Except that when Gavridel rose to his full height, he still had no head. There was no sign of any blood, either—just the scorched black line cutting across where his neck should’ve been, courtesy of Axel’s sword.
Was Gavridel just a collection of armor inhabited by a spirit or a ghost? Was this more of the King’s magic at work? Had he created a hulking automaton out of jewels, empowered it, and set it on its way to wreck whatever needed wrecking?
As Axel strained to breathe and fought against Gavridel’s incredible grip, a head popped out from within the massive torso. Someone had been inside all along.
The head had long brown hair, green eyes, and a familiar face that stunned Axel to his core.
Valerie stared at him with anger in her eyes. And for the first time since Axel had met her in Valkendell’s infirmary, she wasn’t smiling.
Matthios was dead. No final words, no drawn-out goodbyes. Lumen had driven a spike of light through Matthios’s chest and then severed the top half of his head from the bottom half with his sword.
Calum had watched it all, helpless to intervene. Matthios had sacrificed himself to save Calum, but to what end? Calum, Lilly, Condor, and General Anigo together stood even less chance of defeating Lumen without Matthios.
If Gavridel were there, or Magnus, or Riley, or all of them, perhaps they could find a way, but they weren’t. Calum and the others were on their own.
“I tire of these games,” Lumen said, “of dealing with petulant children. If you surrender, I will make your deaths quick and painless, as I did for Matthios.”
Calum scowled at Lumen, holding his sword at the ready. Matthios’s death may have been quick, but the spike he’d taken through his chest had to have been excruciating.
“No matter what he says,” Calum began, “or what he promises, we do not yield. This is bigger than any of us. We cannot give in.”
“I will stand with you until the end,” General Anigo said.
“As will I,” Lilly said.
It broke Calum’s heart to know he’d already let her down. They would die here, in this throne room, by Lumen’s hand. More likely than not, she would have to watch Lumen rip Calum’s soul apart to try to access the King’s power for himself, and that would be even worse for her than dying.
“Thank you,” he said.
Between the four of them, Condor was the only one whose weapon definitely couldn’t harm Lumen, so when he darted past Lumen and retrieved Matthios’s bronze double-bladed spear, Calum felt a renewed sense of hope.
“There,” Condor said as he returned to Lilly’s side. “At least now I’ll die with some style.”
Calum smirked, but it was short-lived.
Lumen stared down at them. “You refuse to surrender? Very well. Then we shall do this the hard way.”
Then he streaked toward them in a blinding blur of light.
Axel still couldn’t believe his eyes.
Valerie? This whole time, that gemstone armor had been protecting Valerie?
Gavridel had never been a man. It had always been Valerie.
It explained why Axel had never seen the two of them together at the same time. It explained why she had granted him mercy when he left Valkendell. It explained what she’d said to him back in the infirmary about Captain Anigo insisting that Gavridel capture Axel and Calum instead of killing them. It even explained the decadent sapphire necklace she always wore.
But even though Axel understood everything, he still couldn’t fathom how he’d been so thoroughly beaten by a woman—even one with powers.
Vexed? Sure. Women vexed him all the time. Practically every day.
But this was more than simple vexing. Valerie was just as powerful as him, if not more so. She’d demolished him in their first encounter but left him alive. She’d let him pass her by the second time, even when she could’ve squashed him like an insect. And this time, even when he’d had his full complement of new powers, he still couldn’t defeat her.
Now she stared green-eyed daggers at him as she choked the life from his body.
“I told you I would not show you mercy a third time,” she uttered, definitely still not smiling.
Axel wanted to respond, but he couldn’t. The only sounds he could produce were sputtering and choking noises. He scraped at her huge armored fingers, trying to pull them free but failing. His vision had started to go black and hazy around the edges.
“I am sorry, Axel,” Valerie said. “I had hoped you would know the truth, but it appears you cannot accept even that which is right before your eyes.”
Axel had one chance to escape. It was a crazy idea, but it was his only option, so he took it.
He opened a void beneath Valerie’s diamond axe, which still lay on the ground, and it fell in. By the time she realized what he’d done, the axe was already falling out of another portal above her, right toward her unprotected head.
It collided hard with her head, but not with the blade. Still, because of its weight, the impact knocked Valerie unconscious, and she released her grip on Axel as she toppled to the ground.
He landed on his hands and knees, coughing and wheezing. He yanked his mask off so he could breathe, and his lungs sucked in greedy breaths of air. A moment later, he rose to his feet again, gradually recovering from the ordeal. Then he fastened his mask to his helmet again, drew his sword, and approached Valerie’s unconscious form.
He’d never even considered trying to use his enhanced vision on Gavridel before, but he used it now. Sure enough, under the intricate layers of gemstone armor, he could faintly make out the feminine outline of her body.
Axel had been such a fool. He’d fallen in love with the enemy—and one of the strongest ones—without even knowing it. Now he would have to tear her from his heart before the end.
He lined his blade up with her neck, finally exposed above her armor. But as he stared down at her beautiful face, and as he noticed a small bit of blood pooling under her head, he realized he couldn’t do it. Nor could he leave her out here with dozens of Lumen’s abominations still roaming the city.
Instead, he retrieved her helmet and tried to push it back onto her head. It sort of worked, but he guessed there was some trick or magic to it that would properly seal it in place.
Rather than leaving her there, vulnerable, Axel opened a void and deposited her inside one of the cells beneath Valkendell. If Lumen wanted to execute her later, he could, but Axel would have no part of it. Maybe after some time, he could even convince Valerie to join them instead.
Either way, it was out of his hands now. He left her inside the cell and locked it with actual chains, though he doubted anything would hold her for long. Hopefully it would give him enough time to aid Lumen in defeating Calum and his friends. Then they could finally put an end to all of this.
Axel opened a void and stepped inside. But as he opened a portal to the throne room, something crashed into him, knocking him back into the shadow dimension.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Under General Balena’s tutelage, Condor had trained with spears alongside Falcroné. He’d always preferred the sword, though, as it proved more versatile when fighting at fast speeds while airborne. The disparity between the reach of a blade and the reach of a spear didn’t mean as much when he could fly incredibly fast.
Now, against Lumen, he wielded Matthios’s double-edged spear as best he could. At least it had a spearhead on each end. And since it had been imbued with power beyond any other weapon Condor had ever brandished, with the possible exception of the Calios, it actually proved rather effective.
Or so he thought.
Condor landed a fair number of strikes on Lumen’s body and limbs as he zoomed around the room. He employed the old hit-and-fly tactic of zipping in, wounding his opponent, and then darting away before the enemy could counterattack. Meanwhile, the others kept Lumen preoccupied from opposing angles, jabbing their own weapons at him.
It had worked well enough—until Condor realized that every
time he tore into Lumen’s white armor with the bronze spear, the metal plating sealed up almost immediately afterward. If he couldn’t effectively penetrate the armor, how could they wound—much less kill—Lumen?
As Condor pondered this conundrum, he noticed a familiar black void opening near the entrance to the throne room. He knew what it meant, and he knew it would mean the death of everyone on his side of the conflict.
Condor had sworn to protect Lilly, and if Axel showed up, Condor had no hope of keeping her safe from both Lumen and Axel.
In the split second between noticing the portal beginning to open and calculating his options, Condor realized he truly had only one choice.
He pointed himself at the void and hurtled toward it.
Axel had just begun to emerge from the portal by the time Condor collided with him. The two of them fell back into the void and reemerged in Solace but on the street rather than in the air. They tumbled across the cobblestones until they came to a stop about five feet away from each other.
They both sprang to their feet and readied their weapons, but Axel didn’t advance. His eyes flickered with recognition, and he shook his head slowly.
“Really?” he asked.
“Really,” Condor said, his voice stern.
“After the thrashing I gave you back in the garden?” Axel chided. “You really want to go another round?”
“I’d love nothing more, Farm Boy.”
The nickname visibly changed Axel’s demeanor, his posture—everything. He’d just defeated Gavridel, or else he wouldn’t have been returning to Valkendell at all, so he had to be feeling pretty good about himself.
At least he had been until Condor had reduced him to a moniker from his past, and nothing more.
“Then this is it,” Axel finally said, his voice equally stern as Condor’s. “You get your chance to try to kill me.”
“You are finally ready.” Condor shifted the spear in his hands, reminding himself of its feel, its weight distribution, its power. Without it, he doubted he would’ve stood any chance against Axel whatsoever. “So come and prove to me you’re not just a big talker.”
Axel launched forward, far faster than Condor had expected, but Condor reacted quickly enough to avoid the first attack. He shot straight up into the sky, his domain, where he had all the experience. Axel had only been flying for a few days at most, so there was no way he could outmaneuver Condor in the air.
They traded blows in the sky, with Matthios’s spear valiantly defending against Axel’s every strike when necessary. Condor had to admit the boy had grown much faster and stronger, but Condor had a whole array of tools at his disposal that Axel couldn’t compete with.
Axel slashed at him, and Condor dropped low in the air and took hold of Axel’s ankle with his free hand. Then he dove toward the city below, hauling Axel behind him. The idea was to slam Axel into the ground using their combined momentum, but a black void opened beneath them instead.
Condor adjusted his path just in time, and instead he flung Axel into the void and flew away. Instead of waiting around for Axel to reappear, Condor shot toward the spire of Valkendell. Another void opened up ahead, and Axel drifted out, seething.
“Not bad,” he said. “Almost had me there.”
“Next time,” Condor replied.
They clashed again in a storm of black and bronze, high over Valkendell.
Condor’s disappearance had confused Lilly until she realized he’d left to keep Axel from joining the fight. Even so, of the four of them, Condor had been the only one even able to strike Lumen thus far. Losing him meant losing the majority of their offense.
Even without Condor, Lilly continued to fight. The Calios dueled on her behalf, hurling fire and ice and light and poison at Lumen, but none of it seemed to affect him. The fire, ice, and light dissipated upon touching his armor, and the poison had no noticeable effect.
The lack of effectiveness of her attacks led her to stick to defense, and the Calios’s blade often turned brown and erected walls of rock for protection for her or the others against Lumen’s powerful strikes. On occasion, the Calios turned pale-blue, and bursts of wind physically moved Calum, herself, or, most often, General Anigo out of the way.
Despite Lilly’s defensive attempts, Calum proved the most capable of battling Lumen. His eyes had long since changed to vibrant green like the King’s, and he either intercepted or deflected every attack Lumen threw at him.
For the most part, Lumen kept his focus on Calum. He occasionally swatted at Lilly and General Anigo as if they were flies buzzing around and annoying him, but otherwise he stalked closer to Calum, who defended himself with an array of powers that Lilly had never seen before.
He’d abandoned his Dragon’s breath sword early in the fight. It was a powerful weapon, but neither its emerald fire nor its blade could harm Lumen. Now he focused solely on calling forth the power the King had bequeathed him.
It had worked so far in keeping Lumen at bay, but every attack Calum threw amounted to nothing in the end.
We have to get out of here. Lilly realized it before anyone else.
Apart from the open throne room door at their backs, they were essentially trapped in a large room with the most dangerous being in all of Kanarah. And he had some sort of advantage here in Valkendell that they couldn’t comprehend. Their weapons were weaker here.
Even Matthios, the Imperator who’d withstood Lumen’s immense power in the fields outside of Kanarah City, had only lasted a few minutes.
If they continued to try to fight Lumen in this place, he would eventually overpower and destroy them. It already seemed like he was toying with them most of the time.
But how could they get out of there and manage to get Lumen to come with?
Magnus had realized that if he wanted to triumph over Kahn, contending with the Jyrak’s freakish strength was a poor strategy. As a testament to that realization, Magnus now lay in the rubble of the building Kahn had just hurled him into.
The impact had hurt, but nothing had broken. Magnus gave silent thanks to the Overlord for creating Dragons with durable scales and even stronger bones.
He’d tried dragonfire as well, but Magnus’s emerald flames only heated up the Jyrak’s armored scales and then glanced off. Kahn would move just enough to keep the fire from burning through, and he shielded himself with his arms when possible.
And though Magnus’s talons could pierce Kahn’s armor, they were too small to inflict significant harm. It teased at Magnus’s sensibilities to consider that his talons would be considered small in any other circumstance. Aside from this Jyrak, he doubtless wielded the largest talons of any creature, sentient or otherwise, in all of Kanarah.
Yet when it came to Kahn, they were all but worthless—except when it came to latching onto Kahn. Magnus’s talons did that very well.
The first few times, Magnus had tried to pull Kahn down to the street. He’d hoped to pin the Jyrak to the ground and gradually pick him apart, but Kahn had proven far too strong. This last time, he’d hurled Magnus into a nearby building.
Magnus needed to change up his tactics. As he took to the air, leaving the dust and debris of the destroyed building in his wake, he blasted Kahn’s head with dragonfire. Like before, it hardly affected the Jyrak, and he raised his arms to shield himself from it.
But this time Magnus took advantage of his opportunity and landed on Kahn’s back, just above the shriveled gray wings still protruding from his shoulder blades. His jagged dorsal bones pressed against Magnus’s body, but Magnus latched on with his talons anyway.
As expected, Kahn roared and bucked and reached for Magnus to try to pry him off, but neither his arms nor his thrashing tail could reach his back. Magnus held on tight, refusing to release his grip now that he had it.
Then Magnus inhaled a long breath, summoned his fire, and sent a blast of it into the back of Kahn’s neck, where he couldn’t reach to protect himself. The flames burned so hot that the scales on Kahn’s neck
began to glow red, then yellow, then almost white, stark against the dark green of the rest of his body.
Kahn continued to roar and rage against Magnus’s grasp. It almost worked, but Magnus readjusted his grip, inhaled another deep breath, and loosed even more fire onto Kahn’s neck. It wasn’t pretty, and it took far longer than Magnus had hoped, but his fire eventually melted away Kahn’s scaly armor.
One final blast tore through Kahn’s flesh, his spine, and burst out the front of his throat, stopping his droning roar forever. Then Kahn did what Magnus had wanted him to do all along: he fell.
He landed face-first, crashing through several homes on his way down. Magnus held on and rode out the fall. Once Kahn settled, Magnus released his grasp on Kahn’s back and climbed up to his misshapen head.
Somehow, Kahn was still alive and struggling to get back up, but Magnus was prepared to finish the job. He dug his talons, sharp as they were, under the sides of Kahn’s huge jaws, and he began to pull.
The strain was incredible, and Magnus had to brace his legs against the ground to get enough leverage, but he soon heard what he’d been hoping for: the sickening sounds of tearing flesh, cracking bones, and blood splattering at his feet.
Then Kahn’s enormous head fully separated from his neck, and Magnus stumbled backward with it in his arms.
Kahn was dead again, and this time, he would stay that way.
As the last of Kahn’s glowing orange blood drained from its neck, Magnus tossed the head aside and said, “Good luck coming back from that.”
The colossal storm over the Central Lake hurled a gigantic green lightning bolt straight down into the enormous tree, and it sheared clear through the center of the tree’s trunk in a brilliant array of sparks and flames.
