Prince of Darkness

by Blake Arthur Peel

  I lash out with a counter-attack, trying to stab the demon in his unprotected flank, but he manages to block this one as well. Steel rings out through the city as the two of us exchange blows, our blades like silver flashes weaving back and forth.

  With a snarl, Asmodeus lunges as if to impale me, but his black edge only manages to graze me, tearing a stripe through my cloak.

  Desperately, I leap inside his defenses and try again to thrust in his side. This time, my attack succeeds, and I manage to stab the very tip of my sword into his flank. It comes out stained with dark blood and he screams, voice sounding more angry than pained.

  So, you can bleed, I think with grim satisfaction as I begin to circle him again. The thought gives me a faint glimmer of hope.

  Asmodeus seems to be acting more careful now, his movements more measured, less brutish than before.

  I am about to go in for another attack when pain suddenly shoots through the back of my leg, burning a bright line from thigh to calf. It causes me to stumble, then fall to my knees, hot blood spilling down and spattering the cobbles.

  Gasping, I look over my shoulder and see a second gorgon holding a red-stained sword, its mottled green face twisted in an expression of triumph.

  Asmodeus roars, his booming voice filled with rage as he turns his attention on the insolent foot soldier. In one swift motion, he swings his blade in a wide arc – not aimed at me, but at the demon standing behind me – cutting through armor and flesh and bone like a knife cutting through butter. The gorgon whimpers and dies, the top half of his body sliding off the bottom half and landing with a sick thud on the ground.

  Grimacing in pain, I try to stand, but my leg spasms and I fall back down.

  “Foolish worm,” Asmodeus spits, glowering fiercely at the dead gorgon. Then, as if suppressing his fury, he fixes his gaze on me. “Not the fight I wanted, but I will butcher you all the same. Then, I will pull this city down around your body stone by stone.”

  At the Conclave, soldiers ready their weapons and pull on their bowstrings, bracing for the attack they know will be coming.

  The Prince of Darkness grins wickedly. “The protector who could not protect himself. Such a sad story. And now, my puny friend, comes the end.” He raises his blade as if to run me through, then hesitates suddenly, a strange look coming over his demonic features. His white lips, like two pale worms, twist into a grimace, and then his eyes widen in shock. “No,” he growls, turning his great, horned head to look to the west. “No... it cannot be!”

  Lifting my head, I follow his gaze to peer off into the distance. What is that? I wonder, noticing what looks like a dust storm looming on the horizon.

  A low rumble fills the air like a distant howl of wind, and soon, both man and demon are searching the skies, forgetting for an instant the battle at hand.

  Asmodeus continues wailing, his black sword falling from his grasp with a loud clang on the cobblestones. “No! It cannot be possible! Khaa shir’iil xa uu’din naavikhar osh!”

  The storm approaches with unnatural speed, and when it draws close, I can see that it is not a storm at all. Red energy like lightning surges in a billowing cloud of darkness, rolling over the countryside with such violence that seems likely to destroy everyone and everything in its path. It’s a creation of magic, I realize in sudden horror as it descends on the city like the end of the world itself.

  Demons scream and gnash their teeth as the winds blow over the Conclave, the sky darkening with intermittent flashes of blinding red light.

  I fall to the ground and cover my head, ears roaring with the abrupt rush of air. My skin feels like it might be stripped from my bones, and the ground rumbles beneath me as balors or buildings collapse. Whether it lasts for a moment or an hour I cannot tell, but by the time the winds subside, my ears feel like they have been stuffed with cloth.

  Blinking, I push myself up, leg protesting in agony as I glance around, trying to take stock of what has happened.

  The city looks much as it had before, though dust and refuse now litters the streets. At the Conclave, men and women get to their feet looking as shaken as I feel, their eyes wide in shock and confusion.

  Turning, I gaze upon the demon horde.

  Gorgons, darkhounds, blackwings, hook horrors and balors stand as still as statues on the other side of the street, crowding every building and alleyway with their hulking, alien shapes. The color seems to have drained out of them, their flesh as grey and chalky as ash, and their red eyes seemed to have winked out, growing dark and sightless as dead coals.

  My gaze flicks over to the Prince of Darkness, who stands close by. His black armor still clings to his body, but like the other demons he has been transformed. Screaming in silence, his body seems to have been turned into a pillar of cinders, his skin ashen and flaky.

  Mouth agape, I struggle to get to my feet, wincing at the pain on the back of my leg.

  Light almighty, I think to myself as realization dawns on me. They did it. Owyn and Zara actually did it!

  Above, the clouds begin to clear revealing a bright blue sky, and from the north a cool wind blows, rushing through the desolate city. As the breeze touches the frozen demon army, their bodies begin to break apart, crumbling into dust and dropping weapons and armor to the ground.

  It isn’t long after that the R’Laar is completely swept away.

  Epilogue

  Elias

  Three Months Later...

  A warm breeze blows through the Great Waste, carrying with it the faint scent of the coming spring. It whispers through the hills, rustling the thorny plants and tugging at my cloak, seeming to pull me away from Tarsynium and toward the vast, unexplored wilderness beyond.

  Never thought I’d live to see the day, I think musingly to myself as I stare out at the barren hills. This truly is the dawn of a new era.

  Behind me, the sun has just crested the horizon, bathing the world in the golden light of morning, and all around me settlers have begun their long trek east, pulling wagons and riding horses in caravans laden with supplies.

  The time has finally come to reclaim our ancestral homeland.

  For a moment I simply stand there, watching the procession with mixed emotions. Then, sighing, I straighten and rest a hand on my belt knife. The old thing is the same as it’s always been – plain an unadorned, with a well-worn handle and quality steel from Yarrin. It has served me well in my years fighting on the frontiers of Tarsynium.

  Somehow, after everything that has happened, it doesn’t feel right to leave it behind.

  I begin making my way down the rise and into the hills, my honor guards falling into step beside me, halberds on their armor-plated shoulders. Talon marches among them, his unruly black hair slicked to his forehead by sweat.

  Already, the heat of the day is upon us, the sun baking the wastes with sweltering rays. The soldiers mutter their complaints to one another, Talon’s the loudest of all, but I remain silent, my mind occupied on other things.

  “Hotter than the Prince of Darkness bollocks out here,” he remarks crudely, causing the other men to snicker. “No wonder the demon bastards were trying so hard to get inside the Arc!”

  We make our way through a series of ravines, joining one of the caravans as they attempt to traverse the unforgiving terrain. Many of the people bow their heads in deference, offering blessings and honorifics associated with my new station. I accept their words politely yet stoically, uncomfortable with the way they are treating me.

  It wasn’t long ago that I was a traitor and a prisoner, I think, perplexed by how everything turned out. The Light sure seems to have a sense of humor.

  Eventually, we find ourselves in a wide, dusty basin between the hills, many of the settlers coming to a stop so they can rest and repair their wagons. As I make my way over to a small group of scouts milling about in the shade nearby, one of them races up to me, eyes alight with excitement.

  “Your majesty!” He exclaims breathlessly, adjusting his sword and bowi
ng low. “It’s here – we’ve finally found it!”

  My eyebrows shoot up, betraying my surprise. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes!” He replies, reaching up and wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “I haven’t seen that much source crystal in my entire life. It must be the right place!”

  Talon and I both look at each other, our expressions equally surprised and a little uneasy. My mouth suddenly feels very dry. A thousand different thoughts begin running through my head. “Where?” I ask, voice overly gruff.

  He points to the north. “Just over there, my Lord. It isn’t far. A half-hour hike at most.”

  I glance in that direction and stare for a long moment. Then, I clear my throat. “Take us.”

  He bows again before leading me to another ravine, my honor guards following closely behind. It is a narrow, rocky path choked with thorns, but unlike the others, I have the experience of a seasoned ranger. I am able to make it through rather easily.

  True to the scout’s estimation, the journey only takes us a half-hour, and we find ourselves in yet another small basin – the difference being the fact that this one looks to have been hit by a storm. Black streaks scar the ground in many places, almost as a lightning bolt had struck there, and every shrub and thorny bush seems to have been ripped from the ground by a tremendous wind and flung very far away.

  Ahead, there is a shattered hill, a great mound of dirt and rock that appears to have collapsed in on itself. Scattered amidst the debris are thousands of tiny crystal shards, the destroyed remnants of a much larger source crystal, which catch the sunlight and glitter like a field of diamonds.

  The whole area seems to radiate power. The very air seems to vibrate with a strange, otherworldly aura, making it feel mystical and oddly sacred.

  “Eleven bloody Hells,” Talon murmurs, his face uncharacteristically somber. “This looks like Zara’s work, alright.”

  “This is the place,” I confirm, voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for finding it.”

  I begin hesitantly walking toward the hill, my feet gaining confidence with every step, but when my honor guards begin to follow, I am forced to stop and turn. “Stay here,” I command. “I won’t be long.”

  They look at one another, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “My Lord,” one of them says uncertainly, “we cannot allow you to–”

  “Please,” I ask, though it comes out as more of a growl. “I must do this alone.”

  One by one, they step back and wait patiently at the mouth of the ravine.

  Taking a deep breath, I continue forward, making my way through the basin and toward the broken hill. The closer I get, the more treacherous it becomes, and soon, I have to crawl over fractured boulders and clamber on unsure footing. My eyes scan the ground as I go, looking for any sign of life among the destruction – even though, deep down, I know that it is pointless.

  Nothing could have survived this explosion.

  Eventually, I make it to the center of the hill, a small, crumbling mound surrounded by glittering source crystal fragments and jagged, uneven stones. Sweat drips down my face and my breaths come in shallow gasps, the exertion and the heat finally catching up to me.

  This is where it happened, I think to myself tiredly as I stand atop the mound. This is where they died.

  “I’m not sure what I was expecting when I sent the scouts to find this place,” I say aloud, speaking to no one in particular and yet hoping that somewhere they are listening. “I knew exactly what I’d find when I got here.” I nudge a loose stone with my boot and send it tumbling off of the mound. “You made quite a mess of this hill, Seeker. I think the High Magus would’ve been proud.”

  A sad smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, and for a moment I think of Zara – the dauntless young mage with the unconquerable spirit.

  “It was your spell that saved us all,” I continue, feeling a sense of pride for the girl. “Your name will be known by every mage from now until the end of time. I will make sure of it.”

  This leads my mind to think of Owyn, my fearless apprentice and in many ways, my son. “You protected her with your life and always did what you believed was right.” A memory sparks and my smile widens. “I remember when you were first chosen to be my apprentice. You were like a fledgling eagle – so timid yet so determined to fly. If you hadn’t warned us about the R’Laar, in the face of all the opposition, we would all be dead. We owe you our lives.”

  For an instant, I falter, my smile fading. The memories that now flood my mind threaten to overwhelm me, but I take a shuddering breath and exhale.

  Somehow, the talking helps me feel better.

  “The war came at a terrible cost,” I continue, speaking to the open air. “The kingdom is in ruins, but we’ve managed to survive. The demons are no longer a threat, and now we can resettle – rebuild what was lost.”

  A small breeze rushes over the hill, ruffling the hair that is not held in place by the iron circlet on my head.

  “They crowned me king, you know. With everything that has happened, the people were looking for a leader, and I was the only one left; well, me and Tamara. The two of us were married, so I guess that makes her the queen. Though, I doubt the ladies in the court will ever see her in a dress.” This causes me to smile once again, the thought of her warming my heart. “It was a small ceremony in the Ashwood – I think you would have liked it. Before I left, some of the trees were starting to bloom.”

  I let out a long sigh and turn my head, glancing back to where my honor guards and the scout stand reverently at the mouth of the ravine. Then, something catches my eye, a glint of what looks like metal half-buried beneath some dirt.

  Leaping from the mound, I race over to the strange object, scrambling over the uneven and shattered terrain.

  When I reach the spot I begin to dig, scraping away the dirt with my fingernails and eventually digging out a weapon.

  A broken hatchet.

  Time seems to stop as I kneel there, staring down at the damaged shaft and the steel head embossed with ivy leaves. A wave of emotion crashes down on me, and for a moment, I find it difficult to breathe.

  Owyn’s hatchet, I think to myself, the words playing over and over again in my head. Light almighty... this is Owyn’s hatchet.

  “They said that I was a hero,” I say in a broken whisper. “When they placed this crown on my head, they thanked me for saving them, but they had no idea... no idea that you and Zara were the real heroes... the ones who saved the world.”

  My vision grows blurry and a single tear rolls down my cheek, dripping from my chin and landing soundlessly on the thirsty ground.

  It all becomes too much to bear – the memories and the regrets.

  I should have done more, I think bitterly, blinking my eyes furiously to fight back the tears. I should have been there for you as your master. Light, I should have treasured every moment we had together.

  “I’ll not let your sacrifice go to waste,” I growl, suddenly feeling a fire blazing inside of me. “I’ll not let you be forgotten. I’ll fight the rest of my life to rebuild our civilization and to protect the realms of men. I’ll unite all men together in this new age of peace. This I swear as my new ranger’s oath.”

  A feeling of peace comes over me, as if the Light itself is enveloping me in a warm embrace. A small but reassuring voice enters my mind, speaking comforting words. I know I should be surprised by its presence, but I feel like it has been with me all along, all through the struggle and eventual victory over the R’Laar.

  They are happy. They are together.

  The tears fall more freely now, my breath catching in my throat as the Light speaks to my very soul.

  They are at peace.

  For a moment I am overcome with emotion. I kneel there on the mound, mourning my young friends but feeling comforted by the very Light itself.

  Wiping my nose with the back of my hand, I get to my feet and tuck the broken pieces of the hatchet into my belt. Then, I turn and s
lowly begin making my way back to the ravine.

  Talon is the first to approach me, his face ashen and his eyes concerned. “Are they... you know... are there remains?”

  I shake my head. “Not that I could see. Whatever happened here, it did not leave any traces... except for this.” I gesture at the pieces of the hatchet.

  Talon’s eyes grow wide, and for a moment, he looks as if he might suddenly burst into tears, his eyes growing wet with emotion.

  The rest of the honor guard gathers around us, stoic as a bunch of rangers.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” The scout asks gently.

  Glancing back at the ruined hill, I nod my head. “Yes, in a way. Now, let us go back. Our people need us.”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  Together, we begin making our way back to the caravans, the aura of reverence clinging to us like a shield of radiant magic.

  As we depart, though, I notice one final oddity on a nearby patch of ground: a small sprig of green grass sprouting up from the dry, cracked dirt. The plant is little more than a weed, a spindly, knotted seedling with barely any leaves; and yet, it is the only living thing east of the Emberwood as far as I can tell. It seems to reach up and grasp for the sunlight, embodying hope and life and resiliency in its tiny stem.

  Seeing it brings a smile to my lips, and when it finally disappears from view, I find myself revitalized with a new sense of optimism for the future.

  Yes, I think, my soul feeling lighter. This is truly the dawn of a new era.

  The End

  DEAR READER, THANK you so much for reading the Arc of Radiance series. It means so much to me that you read these books from beginning to end. The story of Owyn and Zara is the first one I’ve ever written, and as such it holds a very special place in my heart.

  If you would, please go back and leave a review for this book and all the other ones in this series. It will help other readers find out about this tale, and will also let me know what you thought of my writing.