Emerald- Good and Evil

by M. D. Grimm

  “Thou foul little rodent!” The earth buckled and shook before splitting. I nearly fell into the abyss but jumped aside at the last moment. Then I created the wind tunnel underneath me and flew over the crack.

  “Thou dost not deserve the magick of the Mother!” Blood ran down his face as his rage took control over sense. He began to throw everything he could at me, regardless of the exhaustion and toll it was taking on his body. Despite using foreign magick to control the elements and a few other little tricks mages could create, we were still using our bodies to fight. Our magick came from our core, our essence, or rather, our spark of life. It was energy, essentially. If a mage used too much energy, he risked dying. I’d done such a thing half a year ago and had fallen into a magick fever. It had taken me weeks to recover.

  I knew I was going to feel like crap the moment my magick settled back into my core. Right now it buffered some of the pain and exhaustion my body was feeling, like a constant adrenaline rush. But should it become too much and my magick become strained, then I would feel it in my body, my muscles. It was a good sign I should stop.

  Elder Elorn obviously decided to ignore those signs, if his body was sending any. He threw wind at me, causing me to tumble through the air. Then fire, then water again. I fell to the ground and it cracked and groaned. His spells were quick, ferocious, but I figured I only had to survive them and wear him down. While I could predict what element he was about to use because of his stance and different hand gestures, the spells were still an unknown.

  Then I saw an opening. I grabbed a rock, formed it into a spearhead, and chucked it at him, pure force behind it. He was now gasping for breath, the power behind his spells starting to lag He formed a shield but he was too slow. The rock lodged into his shoulder, and he screamed in pain, instantly gripping it and yanking.

  But I never hesitated. I formed fire once again, white fire, and it streamed toward the mage. He flung up his hands, and his own fire formed, just as white and hot. Our streams clashed and flames flung out vertically and horizontally. Grass withered to ash, the air heated painfully. He had plenty of force for an old mage near exhaustion. My stance slipped but I dug my boots in and never gave an inch. Master Ulezander’s voice echoed in my head, and I used what he taught me to sustain the spell. Elorn was giving his all into this stream of fire, causing me to have to give my all. I couldn’t multitask and form another spell. If I did, I would lose force in my fire and become flambéed by his.

  But he was in the same predicament. The first one to waver, died.

  He still had a lot of juice for an old guy. I gritted my teeth as my magick began to strain. The fire, unlike the other elements, came from inside me. My own energy and magick formed it, meaning I would tire quicker the longer I sustained. The fire was purely me.

  My arms began to tremble but I held, my eyes beginning to water. I pushed my fear, my hate, my anger, even my love for Aishe into the spell. I used my emotions as energy; I pushed myself to sustain. I had challenged him. I had to win. I suddenly felt him waver and pushed my advantage. I stepped closer, feeling like I was pushing a twenty ton boulder up a steep hill. Another step when I felt him weaken. Then another. But then I realized what he was doing and before I could stop him, he teleported. He was cleverer than I gave him credit for. I staggered forward onto my knees and gasped before vanishing the fire. I spun around, dripping with sweat, trembling. He wasn’t there. There was only one place he would go.

  My stomach dropped even as I forwent teleporting and used speed to shoot up the cliff face. When I reached the top, I flew into the air and landed hard, falling to one knee. The sight that greeted me somehow tapped into reserves of energy I didn’t know I had.

  Aishe was shooting arrow after arrow at Elorn. He simply slapped them aside with a wave of his hand. Then, when he shot a bit of force at Aishe, my mate batted it aside with his bow. I’d enchanted his bow about a month ago to do just that. It was a sort of anti-magick shield and magick simply rebounded off it. It had been incredibly tricky but absolutely worth it.

  I suddenly realized why Elorn wasn’t putting more effort into fighting Aishe: Aishe was a witness, therefore protected. So was Olyvre.

  My stomach pitched. Lyli wasn’t.

  “Stay away from them!” I ran toward them.

  Elorn snapped out a word and force hit Aishe center chest. The punch flung him into the air, and he slammed hard into the ground. But he rolled to his feet as Elorn gripped the back of Olyvre’s neck and tightened his hold.

  I shot out my hand but Elorn suddenly dragged Olyvre in front of him, using him as a shield. I wasn’t to harm a witness, either. Blood flowed from Elorn’s shoulder wound, staining his pristine robes.

  I skidded to a stop, panting. “You’re breaking the rules, Elorn. Let him go.”

  Olyvre’s eyes were huge on my face, and he gripped Lyli hard enough I realized she was having trouble breathing.

  “Rules?” Scorn dripped from Elorn’s voice, fire and a bit of desperation lit his eyes. He looked sickly pale. “Rules are the reason thou art alive. Some rules are meant to be broken.”

  In a fast move I didn’t expect from him, Elorn gripped Lyli’s hair at the same moment he shoved Olyvre violently forward. Elorn yanked cruelly and Olyvre, knowing that to hang onto his child would surely break her neck, let go. He landed on his knees and Elorn yanked Lyli tightly into his arms. An arrow punctured his leg, and he staggered back, seething, his eyes only wrath. He flung a bolt of fire at Aishe, instantly breaking the rules of the duel. I flung my hand out and a shield, tethered to me by force, formed in front of Aishe. The fire slammed into it but quickly dissipated.

  “You lost, Elorn!” I approached him as Olyvre stood. “You lost when you broke the rules. Admit defeat! Or do you want to make your dishonor complete?”

  “What does a villain know of honor?”

  That was when Lyli—sweet, sweet Lyli—began to kick and scratch and scream her head off as Elorn continued to hold her. She was a little hellion and even bit his ear. He gripped her roughly around the waist and before our horrified eyes, threw her over the cliff.

  I would never forget her bloodcurdling scream for as long as I lived.

  “Lyli!” Olyvre began to run after her despite the uselessness of the act. But Elorn lashed out and with a punch of force sent my brother over the cliff as well. Then he turned and met my eyes, and I saw what his plan had been once I challenged him to this duel. He planned on killing Aishe and me. Then he would somehow use Olyvre to find my father, kill him, and take Ellegrech. After, he probably would have killed Olyvre and Lyli as well, just to tie up loose ends. He never planned on following the rules of a duel. He saw the means to the end as justified, and my brother and niece as collateral damage.

  Mages were supposed to protect and guide the creatures of Karishian. Mages were born from seelas. We had kinship to them. Without them there would be no us. He’d forgotten that.

  Elorn stretched out his arm, his fist covered in flame, and it was pointed right at Aishe. Crouched in battle mode, Aishe had an arrow nocked. The bastard wanted me to make a choice.

  “Save them, Morgorth!” Aishe yelled.

  I heard what he didn’t say: I can handle myself, save your family!

  Fine. I’d save all of them.

  I slapped my hand onto the ground even as Elorn shot his fire at Aishe. “Aishe, amethyst!”

  Aishe gripped the pendant around his neck and teleported. As Elorn took a moment to be shocked at that, I sent my magick into the earth, harnessed its power and saw with a strange vision, the plummet of my brother and his daughter. Olyvre’s arms were outstretched, and I had an agonizing moment of waiting before he finally grabbed his daughter and pressed her to his chest. That was when I harnessed the earth, and a portion of the side of the cliff suddenly broke off and jutted out horizontally. I tilted it into a sharp incline and felt the moment Olyvre made impact with my impromptu slide. It was luck, or fucking hell, maybe the Mother was watching, that Olyvre l
anded on his ass. He fell backward, and slid the rest of the way to the ground. His speed worried me but at that moment I had to refocus my attention.

  Elorn had recovered from the shock of Aishe’s teleportation and sent force at me once again. I broke my connection with the earth and used my shield to bat it away.

  “I won’t be defeated by a rodent like you.”

  I bared my teeth. “You defeated yourself, asshole.”

  He looked shocked by my insult. It wasn’t common in Karishian. His shock once again gave me the edge. I grabbed two large pouches that hung at my belt and used force to direct them. They were mere blurs as they closed the distance between us and then enfolded Elorn’s hands.

  “What...?” he sputtered.

  I used a short piece of rope to slam into his mouth and tie around the back of his head. His eyes bugged as he struggled and cursed. But I was too quick and he was too confused. I used the earth once again and from behind him the earth formed two hands. It gripped Elorn’s arms and yanked him down. His back slammed into the ground and the earth hands covered his own and dragged them into the ground, burying them completely. I also buried his feet for good measure. Then I released the magick of the earth and observed the old mage. He struggled and strained, wiggling around like a fish on dry land. But he wasn’t getting out, not without help. A mage needed his words and his hands to form and direct magick. I’d taken both away from him. He could easily harm himself if he tried to direct magick with bound hands.

  Smiling, I walked stiffly over to him. I was exhausted, sore, but mightily satisfied. I made an effort to straighten and keep as much strain off my face as I could. I looked down at him and he glared up at me.

  I tilted my head slightly. “Now, will you admit defeat?”

  His eyes sparked. My smile changed and darkness rose up. I knelt beside him and gently touched my fingers to the skin of his throat. His eyes widened and fear overrode the rage.

  “I wonder,” I murmured, delighting in the dread showing in his eyes. It was intoxicating, and I missed it so much. “How much pain a tough old mage like you can take before you die?”

  He made a noise between a plea and a threat. I grinned, forgetting everything but this moment. It was time for a little payback.

  But then the image of Lyli and Olyvre falling flashed in my mind. Grunting, I put a pause to my plan and walked over to the edge of the cliff. I squinted my eyes as I saw three small figures at the base of the mountain.

  Wait.

  Three?

  “Aishe?”

  That dumbass. He must have figured out I’d enchanted his pendant to simply allow teleportation, and it would take him anywhere he could visualize, not just Olyvre’s cottage as instructed. But I wasn’t surprised he hadn’t listened. Olyvre and Lyli looked all right, at least from this height. That was good, I didn’t need any more blood on my hands.

  I frowned and looked behind at Elorn. He watched me steadily. Blood on my hands. I looked at them, and they were dirty, cut, sore. But not bloody, not yet. I looked back at Elorn, then down again. Choices. It all came down to choices. I was here to kill my father and recover a stone of power, not to kill a fellow mage. I wasn’t here to torture and murder an elder. I spun on my heel and returned to stand at Elorn’s side. Aishe’s arrow was still lodged in his leg, and his shoulder still bled freely.

  “I’m going to ask you some questions. Answer correctly and I might show pity. Nod if you agree.”

  There was reluctance but finally, he nodded.

  “You said my father destroyed two towns,” I said. “Is that true?”

  He nodded.

  “Were they south of here?”

  He shook his head.

  “North?”

  Another shake.

  “West?”

  A nod. West towns. My father had been born to a noble family at an estate west from here. I asked Elorn a few more questions and found out those towns were in a direct line heading toward that estate. So, my father did want revenge after all.

  I changed the subject. “You looked surprised when I mentioned a bird following me around. Was that your bird?”

  Slowly, he shook his head. I saw the truth in his eyes. If that bird didn’t belong to Elorn, then there was only one other to consider. My knuckles popped as my hands fisted. My father had been spying on me from the start, as soon as I arrived at Olyvre’s home. Somehow, someway, he’d been watching me like a cat does a mouse, from the beginning. That had to change. Now.

  Even as I thought that, a shadow passed over us. I glanced up to see the tail end of a big bird. The same one I’d seen perched on Olyvre’s stables. Watching me, are you Father? Testing me? Observing me? Playing with me? Well, I hope you enjoy the show. I will eat you alive.

  I followed the bird for a moment before clearly thinking a word and shooting a fireball at the aerial beast. With a loud shriek, the bird went up like dry grass in a lightning storm before falling from the sky. I watched it all and once satisfied it was well and truly dead, I turned back to Elorn. He stared at me wide-eyed, confused.

  I took a deep breath. “Remember this moment, Elorn. Remember that a villain, a seventh son of a seventh son, had an opportune moment to torture, kill, and dismember you. But he did not. He spared you your worthless, revolting life.”

  I knelt down and plucked a hair from his head. He grunted, trying to glare, but the fear marred any defiance he hoped to give.

  “With this hair I can track you wherever you go. I can find you no matter where you are. Remember that the next time you think to bother my brother again. They’re off limits, Elorn. I hope you can gather what’s left of your honor and see the wisdom in not making the Destroyer any more your enemy.”

  I tucked the hair into a pouch before leaning close to Elorn’s face, forcing him to meet my eyes.

  “You think you know what I’m capable of? You have no idea. I delight in the pain of others, Elorn. In my enemies I take a sweet, delicious thrill in causing them agony, misery, in wreaking havoc and destruction in their lives.” I lowered my voice. “If you harm Olyvre or Lyli, know that I will pay you back one-hundred fold. I believe in tit for tat, Elorn. But my tat rivals the devastation of Kierthak.”

  He believed me, I could see it in his eyes. Kierthak had been the second seventh son of a seventh son ever born. He’d spread havoc and destruction on Karishian, death his companion. It was only by his own hand he was finally defeated. I’d grown up studying Nanthar and Kierthak, my predecessors. I was still fascinated by their stories and their lives. They showed me what I could do, what I was capable of. I needed to remind Elorn just who he was fighting against.

  I kept my voice calm, reasonable, and that made it much more terrifying. I flicked a glance at his shoulder and decided I didn’t want him to bleed out. I slapped my hand over his shoulder—painfully—and sent a surge of magick to stop the bleeding. I didn’t heal him. I simply fused his skin, leaving a nasty scar. Elorn groaned loudly with the discomfort of the healing—I wasn’t gentle—but kept his eyes on me. The arrow in his leg actually prevented the bleeding such a wound would cause, so I decided to simply leave it in. On impulse, I yanked up one of his sleeves and gripped it with one hand before sending a surge of magick into him.

  I tilted my head, interested in the way Elorn’s body bowed up, his head snapping back against the rocky ground. His scream seemed to lock in his throat, which was a pity. I would have liked to hear it. Oh well. I heated his blood, causing his heart to take a real beating as the boiling blood pumped into it. Boiling blood was one of my favorite tortures. I released the spell. Elorn fell back to the ground, letting out a moan similar to that of a dying animal. He wouldn’t die, though, not yet. His eyes turned to me, filled with agony, loathing, and fear.

  I smiled and stood, then headed for the edge of the cliff.

  “I’ll send a querian to the Council of Mages in a day or so.” I looked up at the sky, smiling wider as clouds languidly rolled in. “Oh, darn, it looks like rain.”r />
  I laughed heartily as I sped down the cliff side.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Aishe

  Morgorth rebuilt Olyvre’s house. A few things had to be replaced but he accomplished all that as well as night began to fall. Afterward, we all bathed and ate supper. Now we sat in the parlor, a fire crackling happily in the hearth as the rain lashed against the windows. The adrenaline didn’t allow us to sleep yet. Except for Lyli, that was. She slept deeply in her father’s arms.

  I felt intense pleasure knowing Elorn was stuck in such weather. Morgorth told me what he did to capture him, and I was mighty proud of my mate. But also puzzled. Morgorth left him alive. He could have easily killed him, he would have probably enjoyed it. A duel was to the death, yet he left him alive. I looked at Morgorth to find him staring into the flames, eyes distant. He’d been quiet after the duel, broody and pensive. I let it lie, knowing he needed time, and I didn’t want to say anything in front of Olyvre.

  I smiled slightly as I glanced at Morgorth’s brother. He couldn’t stop thanking Morgorth. He only stopped when Morgorth threatened him with bodily harm. But then Olyvre just laughed and looked as carefree as a child. He mentioned how lucky he was to have such a brother. I knew Olyvre’s attitude toward Morgorth affected my mate deeply, though he would never say it, at least not willingly. Even Lyli seemed to have warmed up considerably and had even dared to crawl into Morgorth’s lap earlier that evening and sit with her dolly. Despite Morgorth’s horrified look he managed it well enough. He’d held her lightly to keep her steady but I could tell his body had been tense and probably achy from the duel.

  Olyvre told us about Elorn’s visit. The mage apparently thought Olyvre was the perfect bait to lure Morgorth’s father. The mage clearly didn’t know that bastard as well as he thought. Olyvre had refused, causing Elorn to turn aggressive. It seemed Morgorth’s destruction had been second on Elorn’s mind. His first goal was to claim Ellegrech. The mage thought Morgorth was in league with his father. The very idea was preposterous. But from Elorn’s point of view, it seemed logical, I suppose. Not many knew Morgorth the way I did.