Relic of the God

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Asher deserved the looks of admiration he received, though Nathaniel wondered if the ranger could perceive facial expressions anymore.

  “How?” Faylen asked, her voice hoarse.

  “It’s a long story,” Asher replied, tying his usual piece of red cloth around his eyes. “If we survive the day, I’ll tell you all about it.” The ranger squeezed Faylen’s hand and made for the horde of Darkakin.

  “What are you doing?” Reyna called, gesturing to the army of elves behind them.

  Asher hefted his broadsword and adjusted the silvyr blade strapped over his shoulder. “Finishing this!” he called back.

  Nathaniel smiled, glancing at the High Guardian. “He never was one for speeches.”

  Doran laughed. “Let’s be on with it then!” The dwarf ran after Asher.

  Hadavad tapped her staff against the ground. “We’ve come this far…” The mage took off through the ruins of the gate.

  Tauren made to leave with her. “I won't let any more of my people die.”

  Nathaniel kicked over some broken stone and picked up a Velian sword. It wasn't his own and it wasn't Graycoat made, but it would do for killing Darkakin. “I would not have them fight alone,” he added, offering Reyna and Faylen a cocky smile.

  “Together!” Reyna pulled an arrow from her quiver.

  Faylen didn't answer, but instead turned to the nearest elven warrior and drew his scimitar free from its scabbard. “I need to borrow this.”

  “Reyna!” King Elym stepped forward, interrupting the High Guardian’s speech.

  Before any could stop them, the three turned and ran from the dawn.

  46

  The battle for velia

  Asher could hear his friends charging behind him and the army of elves behind them, but even with their supernatural speed, none would beat him to the Darkakin line. Thallan’s distinct voice roared over the savages’ chanting and the elf lifted his green blade, eliciting a cacophony of cheers from his wicked army. Asher’s senses detected the swift line the general’s blade made when he pointed it at the ranger.

  Now they came.

  Asher collided with the fastest of the Darkakin just beyond the ruins of the lower city. To the savages he must have looked to be some madman with a death wish, charging blindly into the depths of their forces with no hope. Had any of them lived a few seconds longer, they might have changed their mind. The ranger could almost predict their movements by feeling the way their limbs displaced the air enveloping them all. He ran past the first two, batting their swords away, before ducking a third blade and swiping his broadsword across the man’s waist, inviting death to claim him. Then he was in the thick of it.

  Swords, axes, and spears came at him from every angle. His heightened senses didn't just help him to map his terrain and reveal his enemies, it also gave him perfect balance and sense of self. The ranger fell back on his training and allowed his entire body to become a weapon. The Darkakin came at him from every side, but Asher always found the angle of escape, bringing him about and ready to swing. The broadsword cleaved limbs and heads alike, sometimes claiming the lives of more than one at a time. Any who found their way inside his swing discovered the pommel of his hilt, a spiked ball of pain.

  Had it not been for the Nightseye elixir coursing through his blood, Asher wouldn't have heard his companions enter the fray. Doran barrelled through the horde as if he had been thrown from a catapult, his sword and axe chopping and hacking. Hadavad’s spells sounded unnatural on the battlefield, their sounds and smell distinct over the din. The mage’s staff made a satisfying noise whenever it struck her foe.

  The unique whistle of a scimitar wasn't far from Asher’s position. The elven blade moved through the air with a speed no man could match. The ranger would have been sure it was in the hands of Reyna, had an arrow not speared four savages to his left. Three more arrows ploughed through the men and women surrounding Asher before the princess pulled her own scimitar free. The ranger was given some space after her barrage and he took advantage, swinging his sword around in a deadly arc. The steel cut through the armour of two and landed in the hip of a third, taking the Darkakin to the ground.

  A guttural scream from behind would have been enough to forewarn Asher, but today he was aware of everything. He had heard the female Darkakin stepping on the bodies of those already littering the ground. His blade, however, was lodged in the hip of the man in front of him. Asher side-stepped, elbowing one savage in the face to give him the space to execute the leaping female. As she came down, where the ranger had been standing, Asher reached out and gripped the back of her head, using her own momentum to bring her face down on the spiked pommel of his upright sword. There was no time to waste as he yanked the broadsword free and turned to decapitate the savage he had elbowed.

  The sound of the elven army clashing with the Darkakin was thunderous. Like an arrow entering the body, their force pierced the horde and hammered through. Asher tilted his head when he heard the first blade bounce off one of the glass shields. Attuned as he was, the ranger could feel the micro-fractures that ran up the metal of the Darkakin’s sword. Two more strikes and that same blade shattered, leaving the savage without a weapon. The effect rippled across the battlefield, rendering hundreds weaponless, vulnerable to elven scimitars.

  Hope soon escaped the ranger when he heard the elves fall. The sound of an immortal crying out in death had an unnatural feel to it that Asher couldn't place. Right now, however, it told of the harsh truth. They were still outnumbered, a fact that even the elves couldn't overcome. The Darkakin were not a force one could be trained to fight, their style similar to a pack of animals. For now, they were prevented from entering the city and slaughtering the Velians, but it was only a matter of time before the larger force overwhelmed the smaller.

  In the middle of it all, Asher could only fight for his life. His senses had him lifting his broadsword at just the right angle to deflect a dagger flying towards his chest, but there was no manoeuvre that could stop the Darkakin blade behind him from cutting down his back. Before it struck, he had been tempted to simply drop to the ground and roll away, however, the cluster of savages to his right would have impaled him on the ground. Ultimately, he received a gash to the back that cut through his leather and tore into his muscle, sending him careening into the Darkakin in front. The ranger turned his pain and momentum into a form of attack, barging into the savage and taking him into those behind. This gave him the briefest of momentums to turn around and deal with the one who had wounded him.

  The ranger heard the blade of steel slice through the air before the Darkakin could take a step and Nathaniel’s sword removed the top half of the man’s head in one, clean swipe. The knight was backed up by Tauren, who proved both of them to be slow by comparison. More of the savages collapsed in on them, but their island grew when Doran and Hadavad joined them, swiftly followed by Reyna and Faylen. Side-by-side they fought, an impenetrable circle of blades and magic.

  Eventually, the elves were just as deep into the Darkakin forces as they were. Nalmar and Ezeric broke away from their kin and added their number to the companions. Asher could sense fear, but not from his friends or the elves, but from their enemy. The Darkakin surrounding them had stopped throwing themselves into the melee, leaving only the most daring to burst through and attack.

  Not far beyond the line in front of them, a pair of feet sprinted through the horde. Asher’s senses were sharper than even the elves right now, but the figure that trod over the dead and leaped into the middle of their circle was too fast for the ranger to track. When Asher turned around, Thallan Tassariӧn was already lashing out with every limb and his deadly scimitar. Reyna took a boot to the waist and was sent careening into the baying Darkakin. Faylen and Nathaniel naturally chased after the princess to make certain the ring of savages didn't descend on her. Doran swung his axe with enough might to crush bone, but Thallan’s parrying sword reduced the dwarf’s weapon to a stick with no blade.

&nbs
p; Tauren closed in from behind, his twin short-swords angled to severe the elf’s spine. The southerner was quick, his movements confident after years of fighting in the streets of Karath. Had Thallan been any other foe, he would surely have fallen to the young man. Thallan, however, was anything but another foe. Without looking, the elf flicked his scimitar out behind him, deflecting Tauren’s attack while simultaneously slashing the man’s leg. Thallan followed his counter-attack with a knee to Tauren’s face, propelling him onto his back.

  Asher launched into the melee with his broadsword at the perfect height to remove the elf’s bald head. Again, without even looking, Thallan whipped his scimitar around his body in the manner of a dancer and blocked the ranger’s attack. A back-hand to the face had Asher staggering into a group of bloodthirsty Darkakin, all of whom prevented him from getting straight back into the fight. His senses painted the perfect image in his mind of what was happening behind him, while also allowing him to slash and parry the Darkakin.

  Thallan evaded the first two swings of Hadavad’s staff before the mage resorted to casting spells. The elf waved away every destructive spell until the last, that one he captured in his palm and sent flying back into the mage. Hadavad’s scream died away as she disappeared behind the wall of Darkakin, her fate uncertain.

  Asher swiped his broadsword up and cut the last of the savages who dared to challenge him, opening the man up from groin to neck. When he, at last, turned back to the real threat, Doran had run into the horde to help Hadavad and Tauren. Nathaniel, Reyna, and Faylen had been separated from the ranger by the clash of elves and Darkakin.

  Nalmar and Ezeric circled Thallan before attacking as one, a pincer move that even Asher knew would spell his doom. Again, Thallan acted as if he could perceive all, kicking back with his leg and thrusting forward with his scimitar. Asher was too far to add his own blade to the chaos, leaving the two elves to suffer their fate. Ezeric was kicked back, his leg snapped, leaving his body to be pounced upon by a mass of wild Darkakin. His body thrashed for a moment, but the savages stabbed every inch of him. Nalmar lived a little longer, though he was now clutching at an emerald blade that ran through his stomach and out of his back. Thallan whipped the blade free and spun around, bringing his scimitar across Nalmar’s neck.

  In the time it took for Asher to clash blades with the dark elf, Nalmar was dead at his feet. The ranger executed every move, utilising every angle, and calling on every style known to the Arakesh, but every swipe found nothing but air. Thallan countered with a single, if intricate, twist of his scimitar and cut through Asher’s bracer and wrist. The gash had him drop the broadsword, however, his senses guided his free hand to the falling hilt. When the ranger brought the sword back up, Thallan’s blade was already there to block its path, preventing his death. Their swords clashed four more times before the dark elf landed three cuts on Asher’s arms and chest, relieving him of the broadsword for the second time. A hammer-punch to the face ended their duel and left Asher crawling over dead bodies.

  “It’s on you now, isn't it?” Thallan trod through the mud, following him. “Give me the gem and this will come to a swift end, Ranger. Or don't…” The elf spun his scimitar through the air, over Asher’s head. “I can just take it from your corpse.”

  A shadow eclipsed the rising sun and flew over them, but the ranger ignored the it, along with everything else his senses were telling him, and went for the silvyr blade sheathed on his back. Thallan was too quick. Before all of his fingers had grasped the hilt of the silvyr short-sword, the elf’s emerald scimitar was coming down on him.

  Another scimitar cut through the air with uncanny speed and intercepted Thallan’s only inches above Asher’s face. The impact of the two blades was unusual; flashing every colour of the spectrum and sparking for the briefest moment. Then the two spun away, twisting and twirling around the other, their swords always colliding in flashes of colour and sparks. Another shadow flew overhead, too quick for Asher to understand what was happening. When he turned his attention back to Thallan, the elf had been hit in the chest by a destructive spell and was now rolling across the ground with the speed of an arrow.

  The one who had saved his life offered a hand to the ranger. Asher took the hand and knew immediately that he was human; his hands weren't smooth enough to be that of an elf’s. The beat of his heart, however, was stronger than any human’s Asher had ever heard, slower too. He was young, younger than Reyna and possibly even younger than Tauren, yet he had just bested Thallan in a duel with both sword and magic.

  “You should probably think about taking that blindfold off...” the young man suggested.

  “Who are you?” Asher asked.

  “My name’s Gideon... Gideon Thorn.”

  Asher refrained from gasping, but he took a step back and let his jaw drop when a dragon soared over their heads, missing them by a few feet. The ranger’s senses exploded with information, but the overriding feeling was panic. Asher could count on one hand the number of times he had endured panic, most of which had taken place as a child in Nightfall, but it felt natural in the face of a predator such as a dragon.

  “Don't worry,” Gideon said. “He’s with me.”

  Asher looked at the young man in disbelief, but again his senses warned of danger when the dragon shot by, breathing a torrent of fire over the Darkakin. He heard dozens and then hundreds of the savages burn. Those who didn't freeze from shock managed to scatter into the horde, spreading fear among their ranks. The dragon glided over the battlefield, dipping here and there, before unleashing death. Screams broke out from those who found themselves in the dragon’s clutches, its claws reducing their bodies to a pulp.

  Thundering feet reverberated in Asher’s ears, telling him of Thallan’s recovery. The elf’s ragged breaths grew louder and the Darkakin who didn't get out of his way were thrown aside. The ranger knew exactly where his broadsword was and he flicked the hilt up with his foot and caught it mid-air.

  “He has a Vi’tari blade,” Gideon said, his tone questioning and concerned all at once. “Leave him to me.”

  Asher couldn't get the look of disbelief off his face. “Who the hell are you?”

  Gideon strode towards Thallan. “I’m the last Dragorn…”

  Asher had no idea what the young man was talking about, or what a Vi’tari blade was, but his confidence couldn't be denied. The ranger followed him into battle only to be hindered by Darkakin, most of whom looked to be fleeing the direction of the dragon. As Gideon and Thallan collided with a grace Asher had never seen before, he was forced to run his sword through the belly of a savage and drive the man to the ground. There was always more waiting for him when he got back up, but every clash of his broadsword was drowned out by the exquisite Vi’tari blades. Theirs was a duel of real power.

  Any who attempted to blindside the young man was met with a fierce response. Somehow, Gideon managed to fight Thallan and slay Darkakin at the same time, often combining his unique style of fighting with magic. Asher did all he could to get closer, hoping to be of some assistance in putting Thallan down permanently, but the Darkakin were never in short supply.

  A group of Graycoats slipped through the elves and joined Asher’s fight against what had felt like his own personal cluster of Darkakin. It was only after the horde was thinned that the ranger caught the scent of Ned Fennick among the knights. For once the man was covered in blood and sweat, proving that he did actually know how to fight. Asher offered the knight a sneer while plunging his broadsword into a fallen Darkakin. Fennick hesitated, unsure if he was about to enter into a fight he couldn't survive, but as usual, the coward turned and ran, pushing his way back into the safety of the elven numbers.

  As the sun hit the field, Asher cut down the last savage standing between him and Gideon. The display was magnificent, his senses creating the perfect image of the fighters. Colour shot out of the flashes and sparks flew through the air, each dancing around the other, parrying and striking hard. Gideon arched his back, e
vading a decapitating swipe, and dropped to one knee when Thallan thrust his green scimitar at the younger man’s chest. Asher moved to intervene, but Gideon met the point of the emerald scimitar with his open palm and stopped the thrust an inch from his skin. There was no human, especially his age, who could wield enough magic to stop Thallan Tassariӧn’s blade mid-strike.

  The ranger could only look on, unable to make sense of Gideon Thorn or the dragon who accompanied him. Without a wand or staff, this human kept death at bay with sheer will. Asher could taste the sweat dripping down Thallan’s temples now, his exertion palpable.

  “Who is that?” Reyna emerged from the battle bloodied and covered in dirt. The elven army had almost encapsulated them, allowing for a moment of peace.

  Faylen and Nathaniel cut their way through, dropping savages left and right between them until they were all together again. Collectively, they were battered, bruised, and covered with blood. Asher’s nose could distinguish between their blood and that of their enemies and was happy to find that none bore a mortal wound. They watched, exhausted, as the battle of wills raged on between Gideon and Thallan, enthralled by the exhibit of strength. Thallan continued to push his emerald blade with all of his might, and as hard as it was to believe, that might was equal to the resistance Gideon pushed back with, keeping the scimitar an inch from his palm.

  With enviable speed, Gideon moved his hand and spun around, allowing Thallan to carry his thrust forward into nothing but air. The Dragorn, as he had called himself, came back around and drove his elbow into the elf’s face before tapping Thallan’s sword-hand under the wrist with his scimitar. The general staggered back and Gideon caught the emerald blade with his free hand. Asher stepped forward as he perceived Gideon’s next move, unbelieving as he was.

  Thallan cried out when his own blade plunged through his gut and up into his chest.