by Mark B Frost
She swiftly spun the Lance about and stabbed it into Cildar’s chest. He gasped in pain as the crystalline tip sank through his skin, stopping against his sternum. The Trine Lance flared with its former white glow and sent waves of energy spreading into his chest. He groaned hoarsely while he was held tight by the aura, then Serene pulled the blade free and he fell back.
“The corruption gripping you was not of Morolia,” she explained. “The Trine Lance has rebuked its power.”
He reached up to rub his chest, and as he touched it a burst of white magic shot from his hand and soothed the wound. His eyes widened with disbelief and pleasure, and he rose to his feet. Serene kindly handed him his Lance, and immediately the weapon exploded with a light brighter than Cildar had ever seen.
“I feel whole,” he said. “Pure, like I’ve never felt, and my weapon acknowledges me once more.” He looked to the Saint with tears flowing down his face. “You have rescued me from despair. How can I repay you?”
She smiled softly. “Go to Myris. Make certain that he really is the traitor you believe him to be. You are still the Lord of the Phoenix, and a member of the Grand Council. If you speak out in his defense, he may yet be pardoned.”
He returned her gaze for a few thoughtful seconds before answering. “Very well. For you, for what you have done, I will seek out Myris and the truth. I must make arrangements to postpone his trial. If you’ll excuse me.”
With a bow, he headed out of the office and immediately to his mission. Serene watched him march with a renewed spring in his step, and hoped with all her heart that Myris’ story could end quite so well.
* * * * *
Atheme launched himself at his adversary with renewed vigor. He spun his sare at imperceptible speeds, and his Morabet bit and cut into demonic armors at ten places every second. The Hell Knight tried to bring Kargaroth into play but the Lord Councilor was everywhere, making every move necessary to ensure the fiend could not make an attack.
After about a minute of this ferocity, he stabbed the blade of the sare into the Hell Knight’s stomach and bent the pole until the fan touched the ground. It took almost all of his strength, but finally he gained enough leverage to lift his hulking opponent and send him flying overhead. The Hell Knight crashed hard to the ground a few feet away, but instantly rolled and hopped to his feet.
Once more the damage on his body repaired itself and he leveled Kargaroth out in front of him. Atheme did not wait to exchange words, but instead dashed forward at top speed. The Hell Knight tried to counter with a rapid jab of his barbed blade. Atheme jumped to the side of the sword and kicked it with his right foot, then spun about in midair and delivered a powerful blow to the Hell Knight’s face with his other foot.
He planted his sare in the middle of the giant’s chest, then came down with both feet and delivered a powerful blow to the stomach, pulling down on the sare. He let his weapon spring him back into the air and did a smooth backflip, landing on his feet a few yards away. He looked up at the Hell Knight and could not resist a taunt.
“I’ve fought guys your size before. All that strength comes at a price. With your lack of mobility, you’re easy pickings for someone like me.”
The indomitable creature stared with the soulless expression that had not changed the entire battle. “I guess that’s my mistake then,” he answered cryptically.
Atheme felt a sense of unease at this bewildering statement, but chose not to dwell on it. He launched himself into the air, almost thirty feet high, planning to come down for an aerial assault. The Hell Knight followed this move, leaping into the air and hovering only a foot from the shimmering soldier at the top of his jump. The Lord Councilor tried to lash out with the Morabet, but in a flash of movement the Hell Knight blocked the swing with Kargaroth, then used his empty hand to smack the man across the side of the head.
Atheme flew to the side for a second, then used a spell to create a thin midair barrier and slow himself to a stop. He kicked off of the barrier and back at his enemy. He was hoping for a surprise attack with this technique, but instead the Hell Knight slid another yard into the air and planted both feet into his back. Atheme flew hard to the ground and several feet into the earth before coming to a stop.
His towering assailant landed a few feet from the hole. Atheme exploded out of the ground behind him and sliced at his neck with the Morabet. The Hell Knight instantly ducked the attack, crouched down onto his knees, and delivered a rapid elbow jab into the man’s midsection. Then he spun on one foot and again smacked Atheme with the broad side of Kargaroth, angling the blow so that the Lord Councilor’s body slammed into the ground and slid to a halt several yards away.
The monster raised Kargaroth to his right shoulder, and Atheme heard his voice resonating in his mind. “Is this speed better for you? I can go faster. Perhaps you’re dissatisfied with my strength. I could double it. Triple it?”
The beleaguered warrior stood with a grunt. It took a moment for his white magic to repair the damage to his body, so he gave it time. Each time he made contact with the Hell Knight, he developed a series of cuts and burns around the contacted area. Even when Atheme was delivering the blows, it seemed he was the only one who was getting hurt.
“You’re bluffing,” he challenged between heavy breaths.
“My power exceeds all others. You try to measure me in terms of speed, or strength, but those things are only as limited as I choose them to be. There are many things beyond you, Atheme Tethen. I am beyond them. Not man, not god, neither angelspawn nor hellspawn can offer me challenge. Elzaniru himself would dare not call me foe. Yet you have taken upon yourself alone the task of bringing me down. I have offered you the opportunity to return home and live a few more years—a grace I shall not grant another soul—and you denied it.”
“I don’t back away from a fight,” he insisted. “There is always a way to win.”
“Can you be so certain? You have never before fought a god. Yet the gods themselves run from my shadow.”
“My white magic hurts you, and with the Holy Aura surrounding my weapons, they hurt quite a bit, as well. You can heal the damage, but it has to take its toll. If you can be hurt, then you’re not unbeatable.”
Atheme winced as a horrible cacophony of laughter echoed through his mind. “You try to dissect me with logic, but I am not bound by the rules of everything else you have ever known. Why is this so hard for you to understand?”
He was becoming weary of these derisive prods. “Why don’t you explain exactly what you are, and we’ll see if I understand or not.”
“I have enjoyed our time together until now, but I will not bore myself with educating a creature whose life I am about to snuff out. I fear our time has drawn to a close. I have adequately demonstrated that you are no longer worthy of me. You were Abaddon Daemon’s greatest rival, but to me you are the same as all other insects. So, to put it succinctly...”
Suddenly the massive figure dashed forth at a speed that Atheme, even in his Hasted condition, could only barely conceive. He tried to raise his weapons but was far too slow. The Hell Knight took his massive left hand and wrapped it around the man’s head, then dashed forward again and slammed him bodily into the ground. The impact sent a shower of boulders up, and the Hell Knight lifted his victim and smashed him into each boulder, turning them into dust from the impacts. Then he flung the man away at a breakneck speed.
Atheme tried to steady himself in midair and locate his opponent, but as he looked up a sixth sense warned him that the fiend was already standing behind him. There was no time to act upon his realization, as the Hell Knight immediately delivered a terrible punch to the center of his spine that stopped his flight, dropping him to the ground paralyzed.
After this blow Atheme sat propped on his hands and knees trying desperately not to collapse. The Morabet and sare had fallen to the ground at his side, and tears flowed unchecked down his face as searing pain spread through his nervous system. Finally the anguish overpowered him,
his concentration broke, and the myriad of spells he had been using for Haste fizzled as his clothes and hair drained back to their normal red tint.
Several of the wounds that he had acquired throughout the course of the battle reopened at once, and in a matter of seconds he was sitting in a pool of his own blood nearly half an inch deep. The Hell Knight looked down at him with his terrible unchanging grin.
“Time to die.”
The ground Atheme was looking at began to spin, and he could not bring himself to understand where he was or what was happening. Something inside of him screamed not to give up, some part of his mind tried to formulate a plan.
“I am going to give you a great honor,” the Hell Knight continued. The voice helped the Lord Councilor to regain his senses, and his mind started to slowly tie itself together. “I am going to show you the final of my attacks. I intended to save it until the first god I killed, but you have put forth such effort that I will allow you to fall under its name.” He pointed Kargaroth to the sky and his booming voice echoed loudly across the wasteland. “Destruction Wave,” he beckoned. Kargaroth turned to a shade so dark that it seemed to be a hole in reality, and a dark purple energy fizzled and crackled around its edges.
As this void swept at Atheme, he gathered what white magic he could and grabbed his Morabet. The blade flared once again with holy light, and he gripped it tightly with both hands. He rolled back away from the Hell Knight and swung the glowing sword with all of his strength. It collided with Kargaroth in a flash of light in every color. The Morabet disintegrated, yet Atheme himself avoided contact and escaped unharmed.
He snatched his sare from the ground and hopped to his feet, retreating quickly. To his surprise the Hell Knight started to back away as well. For the first time the entire battle his expression changed. The malicious grin twisted into a look of anguish, and traces of blue began to swim in the black eyes.
Atheme did not take time to debate this blessing. Instead he launched himself forward and took a stab at the contorting face with his sare. His body was practically in scraps, and his movements felt unbelievably slow. The Hell Knight saw the attack coming and jerked his head slightly to the side, but the blade of the sare made contact with the cheek.
A rush of black smoke and purple light shot forth from where the wound was made, and the Knight delivered a vicious backhand to Atheme, knocking him away. The Lord Councilor found this blow far weaker than any prior, and it did not cause fresh wounds to appear on his face. He regained his feet again and gripped his sare in an offensive stance, the blade leveled and pointed at his enemy.
An enemy who, for his part, was letting out an agonized scream and stumbling backward. Atheme wondered for a moment if the gods were somehow aiding his quest. After a few seconds the Hell Knight regained control, stopped thrashing, and looked to him. The face was different now. The mouth was small and closed, and the eyes were a solid shade of blue. The small cut Atheme had delivered was a thin red line, and a stream of red blood dripped from it. The dark hair around the face no longer floated about magically, but had now settled and looked dirty and sweaty.
Atheme could not stop a sudden rush of tears that hit his face. “Abaddon,” he whispered to himself.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” his friend replied with a soft voice. This time the sound did not come from the air itself, but from his own moving lips. “Go home. Go home.”
The Lord Councilor tried to form a coherent response. He wanted to reach out, to reason with the man, as Relm had asked of him. He wanted to say anything to make this nightmare end. But he could only barely remain on his feet, only barely keep his hands steady so the sare did not shiver, and could only barely muster a response.
“No,” he answered.
The Hell Knight crouched forward. “One more time, then.” He charged with a roar and raised Kargaroth, and Atheme began his final charge as well.
Though the battle had been fought at startlingly fast paces, the decisive moment was maddeningly slow. Both the Hell Knight and Atheme could only barely move, but still they closed in on each other. When they were finally down to the last couple of yards, the Hell Knight swung Kargaroth down, aiming to split the red-haired head. Atheme twisted his sare around and the blades clashed, knocking the gigantic sword aside to his own disbelief.
Again he did not question his windfall, but instead spun the sare and used the last bit of strength in his legs to hop to his foe’s left. He took the fanned blades and slammed them into the towering monster’s rib cage. The sare slid between the breastplate and the armored belt, between two ribs, through the Hell Knight’s frame, and finally burst out of the right shoulder, just below the neck.
The Hell Knight opened his mouth and threw up a huge amount of blood. His body shook for a moment, then the armor and swathed clothing began to disintegrate into a black cloud of smoke. Atheme tried to pull his sare out but there was a snap, and a foot of it broke off in his hand. The part protruding from the shoulder turned into smoke along with the Hell Knight’s armor, drifting away into nothingness. As the shadowy tormentor roared in indignation, an explosion of smoke and power poured from his body and rocked the plains, throwing Atheme to his knees.
Finally Kargaroth itself let out a high-pitched shriek, and the huge serpentine abomination shrank back to the deceptively beautiful broadsword it had once been. It slipped out of the hand that held it, and Atheme looked up to see his old friend staring at him.
“Atheme,” the man said with a failing voice. “I’m sorry.” He gave a soft smile, and a tear forced its way out of his eye. “Go home. I want to go home.” The exhausted victor stared blankly, finding no words. Abaddon winced, then fell forward to the ground.
The Lord Councilor stared at the body in front of him, trying to reconcile the fact that his dreadful opponent had just reverted back to his closest friend. Eventually he realized there was a line of blood soaking through Abaddon’s shirt, spreading from his left side to his right shoulder. Atheme had finally overcome his nightmare, only to now live through another.
He suddenly inhaled a deep breath of air and screamed, “No!” He dropped to his knees at Abaddon’s side and began pouring out doses of white magic that he did not have to give. He felt his body and spirit begin to wear out, an ache that begged him to stop and relax, but he refused with unprecedented stubbornness. He started first by repairing the damage to the fallen man’s spine, then tried to fix any organs that had been destroyed. Finally he patched the flesh back together as well as he could.
It was a terrible makeshift job. There was no way it would keep Abaddon alive for long, but Atheme had no more to give. He let out a shrill whistle, and in the distance he saw his wyvern rise into the air and began to head in his direction. He was relieved to find the creature was still around after the battle that had ensued, and inwardly praised Kinguin.
He looked at the broken bit of his sare and tossed it on the ground. There was a slight clang, and he looked to see that it had hit the Dual Blade, which was still lying where the Hell Knight had discarded it. He snatched the Blade up, then went to grab Kargaroth. The sword hissed at him and shot a blast of energy at his arm, but he managed to pull away quickly enough to avoid it.
“Never seen it act like that before,” he said irritably. He cut free Abaddon’s cape and wrapped it around the sword, then used a few black magic spells to bind it. The wyvern landed, so Atheme quickly strapped the two weapons to its back. It seemed to take exception to The Unholy Blade, but Atheme soothed it and it eventually accepted.
He carefully gathered Abaddon up and placed him on the wyvern, laying him so that his body was kept as straight as possible given the traveling conditions. He gingerly hopped up onto the beast himself and nudged it slowly into the air. He drove it to fly at its fastest speed, with no intention of letting it stop until they reached Felthespar.
He reached back and checked on the unconscious passenger. There was still a pulse, but it was both faint and sporadic. It was almost a
ssured the man would not survive the trip. Atheme did not let himself give up a fevered hope. “Daemon, I don’t know what else to do,” he whispered into the neck of the wyvern, “but you have to live. Please, Abaddon, live!”
Chapter 26.
Where Life and Death are Same
A knock sounded at the office door of the Lord Cardinal, the latest of several that had gone without response. This time the visitor did not accept the silence. The door was opened, and a voice pierced the peaceful darkness. “Lord Aveni, I’m sorry to disturb your rest but there is an emergency.”
Aveni tapped a crystalline apparatus on his nightstand and a soft white light filled the room. He sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes.
“We would have let you sleep,” one of his aides continued, “but it’s one of the Grand Councilors. We fear that if you do not come soon the patient will die.”
He rose from the bed and walked to the where the Staff of Ainshen leaned against the wall. He lifted it and used it to support his weight, then slowly walked to the door.
“I’m too old for these hours, it would seem. My legs scarcely want to carry me. I assume this is about Myris again? His new spirit must have degenerated more quickly than I anticipated.”
The aide responded as they walked down the hall leading back to the infirmary. “No sir. It’s Lord Abaddon. Lord Atheme brought him in a few moments ago. It looks as if he has been cut in half and pieced back together. It’s no small miracle that he has not died already, but he needs such serious work that he may already be a lost cause.”
Aveni nodded. “I’ve seen Abaddon through many horrific injuries in the past. We won’t make any rushed judgements where he’s concerned. What of Atheme’s condition?”
