by Dan Zangari
Dizziness struck Cornar, and he reeled back into the room. He watched as Jamar was hurled over the nearby table; the Elite skidded to the window, but rebounded and engaged Kaescis once again. The prince fought with wild ferocity, more vicious than his clash with the Sapphire Guard in the Keepers’ Temple.
Get up, Cor! Cornar heard Iltar’s voice in his mind, like a distant whisper. And fight! If you die here, you die on Kalda.
Iltar? Cornar wondered, rising to his feet. Why him? No matter, Cornar had more important things to worry about.
Cornar dashed to the table, bounding over it. He landed and bolted straight for his father and the emperor, striking at a veil of barsion surrounding Medis. His side swords caused the emperor’s protective magic to flicker.
Medis spun, swinging his gigantic Darkness blade. Cornar dodged, but the weapon trailed a devouring mist in its wake, eroding Cornar’s barsion.
“Naedar!” Melthas shouted. “Your side sword.” Melthas then threw his short-sword at Cornar.
Reacting swiftly, Cornar tossed his left blade at Melthas, throwing it behind Medis. Cornar sidestepped, catching his father’s short-sword. It felt good to wield this weapon. After all, this particular short-sword had become part of him, like an extension of his body.
Medis recoiled, slicing again. Cornar blocked the blow with his father’s short-sword. The Darkness magic didn’t dissolve the blade like it had with others. In fact, the short-sword pulled more of the devouring particles into its aura of mingled magic.
The emperor growled, and Melthas struck a blow to his back. Enraged, Medis spun, kicking Melthas away.
Yelling a battle cry, Cornar attacked with a furious flurry, blocking with his short-sword. Melthas soon rejoined the fray, and both he and Cornar engaged Emperor Medis in a flurry of identical blows. They fought in unison, mirroring each other’s movements. They moved quickly, striking occasional blows against Medis that weakened his barsion. It was magnificent!
But would they slay him? Cornar didn’t know when Medis had died. He hoped it was tonight.
Cornar fought with a raging fury, blocking blows from Medis and striking at the emperor’s barsion. They almost had it shattered. Though Cornar knew his father’s fate, he would do all he could to prevent it in this bizarre dreamland—
Cor, behind you! Iltar’s voice shouted in Cornar’s mind, but it was too late.
Cold metal pierced Cornar’s thigh, and he screamed, dropping to one knee. What had hit him? He blocked a blow from Medis while glancing over his shoulder. Bratan retracted a fanisar from Cornar’s leg. The fanisar wasn’t imbued with magic, so how could it have pierced both barsion and armor?
“You better piss now, bastard!” Bratan shouted with frothing rage.
Bratan came in for another blow but was struck by a mass of green magic, ensnaring tentacles. The magic hurled Bratan across the room, trapping him against the wall.
Cornar twisted around and barely blocked a blow from Medis. He glimpsed more Mindolarn soldiers spilling into the banquet hall, as well as archers filing onto the balcony.
Damn it! Cornar struggled to stand, but he buckled and fell back onto his knee. The pain was so real.
Medis twirled his gigantic blade, ready to deliver a death blow. The emperor began to raise the misting blade but Melthas jumped on his back, slamming both the side sword and his serrated dagger into the emperor’s shoulders. The weapons shattered the barsion and tore through Medis’s clothing.
Screaming, Medis buckled beneath Melthas’s weight and dropped his black blade. It tumbled, striking the ground point first.
“I’ll relish killing you!” Melthas shouted, digging his weapons further into the emperor. The Darkness particles around the serrated dagger consumed Medis’s flesh, turning bone and muscle to gray dust.
“Uncle!” Kaescis shouted.
The prince dashed across the room, tackling Melthas. That raging familial protection reminded Cornar of Ordreth.
The impact freed Medis from the deadly grip, and the emperor fell onto his knees, gasping. Medis struggled to speak sharp-sounding words, and once he spoke them they mustered magic. How was that an incantation…? Cornar wondered, perplexed. The incantation was too short, but arpran magic wisped from Medis’s hands and into the wounds on his shoulders.
“No…” Cornar cried, dragging himself toward the emperor. He got within his weapons’ reach and began to stab at Medis’s face, but was thrown sideways by a powerful kick. He tumbled across the floor, almost losing his grip on his weapons.
One of Medis’s brothers had kicked Cornar away. That left two fighting Adrin. Adrin and the other royal brothers fought in an acrobatic display of magic and hand-to-hand combat. It was awe-inspiring. Then Medis and his brother again spoke those sharp words, mustering more magic. What kind of incantations were those? One mustered barsion while the other gathered a gray mist—telekinetic magic? Once a bubble of barsion was around both of them the mist condensed, hitting the barsion and launching them out the broken windows.
What a retreat, Cornar grunted and struggled to stand. The best he could do was kneel. It would have to do.
Cowards! Iltar’s voice rang in Cornar’s mind. He heard the necromancer uttering a slew of curses. Why can’t I interact with anything?!
The outburst was distracting, but Cornar returned his attention to the battle. More of Melthas’s Elites fell throughout the room. Only ten were left standing, but they were being overrun by the reinforcements still pouring into the banquet hall. They wouldn’t last long.
Melthas was dueling Kaescis, and the prince had already severed the side sword Melthas was using.
“Father!” Cornar shouted, but Melthas didn’t acknowledge the cry. Of course he wouldn’t. “Melthas!” Cornar threw the short-sword.
Both Melthas and Kaescis noticed the coming blade, but the prince kicked Melthas in the gut while swatting at the short-sword with his Darkness blade. That sent both the weapon and Cornar’s father in opposite directions.
Damn it! Cornar growled, watching the short-sword hit the ground between him and the table.
Fighting against the pain, Cornar dragged himself to his father’s short-sword. As Cornar reached for it, he heard Bratan yelling, “No you don’t!”
Cornar turned just in time to see the hulking Praetorian dashing toward him with a fanisar aimed like a spear. All the while, Cornar heard Iltar’s voice, yelling with enraged frustration.
Bratan lunged, striking at Cornar’s face. Cornar moved to defend himself, but Bratan feinted, swiftly pulling back and thrusting the fanisar into Cornar’s stomach. The blade pierced through the metal breastplate and drew blood. But where had the barsion gone? It just disappeared…
No! Iltar’s voice rang once again in Cornar’s mind, followed by grotesque curses.
“I’ll make you piss through your gut, bastard!” Bratan shouted. Bratan came in for another blow, but Vedin—one of the last standing Elites—blocked the fanisar. Vedin swiftly engaged Bratan, forcing him backward.
Cornar felt light-headed. He touched the wound, his gauntlet turning red. Cornar struggled to his feet, but everything spun, and he fell, landing sideways.
Damn it, Cor! You can’t die in here! Iltar’s voice shouted.
Cornar looked up, which was really sideways. The short-sword was just beyond his reach. Though it was close, it felt so far away.
“Grab it,” the booming voice commanded.
Mustering all his strength, Cornar struggled to grab the weapon. His hand shook as he gripped the sword’s hilt.
“You have fulfilled the role,” that voice boomed throughout the room. Again, no one noticed it beside Cornar. “Now you may observe.”
Bewildered shouts rang in Cornar’s mind, coming from Iltar. The necromancer was railing against the booming voice. Was this some sort of delirium?
Cornar watched his father dueling Kaescis. Melthas struggled to fight with only his serrated dagger. If only Cornar could throw his father his short-sword, then M
elthas would have a chance.
Vedin landed in front of Cornar, eyes glazed. Blood dripped from his breastplate and pooled on the floor. He didn’t blink. Bratan charged past Cornar, yelling a battle cry. He engaged Melthas, swinging his fanisar wildly. Melthas contended with both of his opponents for a short while, dodging blows while landing an occasional strike. But it didn’t seem to help.
Another figure flew into the fray, wielding a shaft of lime-green light. It looked like acidic magic. The third combatant spun, revealing her face. It was Laeyit. The three of them fought Melthas, delivering an occasional blow that weakened his barsion.
Melthas struggled, using hand-to-hand combat to try to repulse his foes, but Kaescis and his friends were relentless. Arrows sang from the balconies, striking Melthas and the other Elites that were still fighting.
Soon, only Adrin and Melthas remained. Melthas had sustained a wound on his left arm, a blow caused by Laeyit’s acidic magic. Bratan delivered a blow to Melthas’s left thigh, wounding him as he had Cornar.
No… Cornar groaned.
Melthas buckled, and Kaescis pierced his foe’s shoulder, causing Melthas to drop his serrated dagger.
A resounding yell filled the room, and then a wave of telekinetic magic repulsed the combatants around Melthas and Adrin. Cornar watched his father drop to his knees. Adrin grabbed Melthas, casting a spell. Melthas grabbed his serrated dagger as blue magic surged around them, creating a barrier of barsion.
“Hold it up,” the booming voice urged Cornar. Was he referring to the sword? “They need to see you.”
Struggling to heed that behest, Cornar heard Iltar’s voice once again. The necromancer shouted in frustration to that booming voice, angered that he was unable to participate in the battle. But why was Cornar hearing Iltar? And why was Iltar able to hear that voice? No one else had… those questions felt fuzzy, distant, even.
Focused completely on raising the short-sword, Cornar shakily forced his hand into the air. Though he barely raised the weapon, Adrin saw it.
Arrows flew from the balcony, striking Adrin’s magic; they ricocheted without damaging the barsion. Orbs of deadly magic whizzed through the room, also assailing the grand mage’s protective bubble. Unlike the arrows, the orbs caused the barsion to flicker.
Adrin’s magic widened, swallowing up Cornar and Vedin. Melthas groaned while Adrin stretched out his hand to reinforce the barsion. Adrin began casting another spell, and golden light shone from beneath his gauntlet.
They were teleporting away… but Melthas was still alive.
Melthas struggled to kneel but grabbed his short-sword from Cornar. A look of defiance was on his father’s face, fierce and determined.
Adrin’s barsion shattered. Arrows struck Adrin and Melthas, bouncing off their armor. Magic whizzed toward them, and then Kaescis threw his black sword like a javelin. The Darkness blade flew through the air, impaling Melthas through his chest.
Father! Cornar struggled to utter the word. He could barely keep his eyes open.
Melthas jolted, arcing forward but falling backward. Kaescis’s sword protruded from Melthas’s back. A black mist spread across Melthas’s armor, devouring flesh and metal. Melthas collapsed, his head landing on Cornar’s wounded thigh as Adrin finished his incantation.
Golden light washed across them. Cornar blinked once, and they were someplace else…
The smell of horses. The scent of hay. The stench of dung. A barn?
“No!” Adrin screamed.
“Oh, Melthas!” Kandish groaned.
Kandish?
“Look, Naedar is alive,” Kandish said.
Cornar thought he saw Kandish push aside Melthas and then kneel, saying sharp things. It sounded like that too-short-incantation. What was happening?
Green light.
Cor! Iltar shouted again in Cornar’s mind. Why was he shouting…? Cornar shut his eyes, his mind drifting. It was peaceful, like falling asleep—
A surge of energy shot through Cornar, and his eyes flashed open. He gasped, breathing rapidly.
Kandish knelt beside Cornar, clutching flowing arpran magic. But how? Kandish wasn’t a mage. He was a merchant. The arpran magic surged across Cornar, and he felt his wounds closing. After a short while, Cornar felt normal.
Sobs filled the air, and Cornar looked about, studying his surroundings. They were in a barn, a large one.
“You should be fine now,” Kandish said, grabbing Cornar by the shoulder. “Here, let me help you stand.” Cornar took Kandish’s hand and rose to his feet.
Adrin was kneeling over Melthas, weeping profusely.
“Oh…” Cornar gasped, bringing his hand to his mouth. A gaping hole marred Melthas’s breastplate, surrounded by a festering black mist. That hole continued through his father’s chest, where his heart should be.
Kandish knelt beside Adrin, wrapping his arms around the weeping man. Tears trickled down Kandish’s cheeks. They cried together for a while until Adrin regained his composure.
“We should have turned back,” Adrin took in a deep breath. “They were there, all of them…”
“Who?” Kandish asked, wiping away more tears from his eyes.
“The abominable qui’sha princes… all five of them.”
“All of Mindolarn’s surviving brothers?” Kandish demanded, his face resembling a flaming inferno of fury.
“Yes.”
Kandish slammed his fists into the ground. “I should have gone!”
“They would have fled,” Adrin said. He still looked overcome by the losses they had suffered.
“They’re probably still there.” Kandish rose, his lips turning into a scowling snarl. “I could be there in a few hours if I—”
“No,” Adrin shook his head. “I can’t lose you too. Not again. Don’t go, Zatryn. I cannot bear you dying twice. It tore me apart, losing you all those years ago.”
What was Adrin talking about? Dying twice? How was that possible?
Kandish sighed, appearing dissuaded by the brief argument. “All right…” He paced across the barn. “Those poor children… first their mother, and now their father.” Kandish groaned and more tears trickled down his cheek.
Silence hung in the barn for a moment until Adrin pried Melthas’s weapons from lifeless hands. He gently sheathed both of the weapons and then unlatched the scabbards from Melthas’s belt.
Adrin rose and handed both of the weapons to Kandish. “I think he would like his son to have them.”
Kandish took the weapons without a word.
Cornar could still remember the day that Kandish delivered the serrated dagger and short-sword. Cornar wept upon taking the weapons, regretting how he had treated his father the last time he saw him. He felt that sorrow again as he watched Kandish handle the weapons.
“I need to go,” Adrin said. “They recognized me, and surely they’ll retaliate soon. I need to protect my family.”
“Take them to Alath,” Kandish said absentmindedly.
“Gwenyth won’t go,” Adrin said, sighing. “But I think I know of a place where they’ll be safely hidden.”
Kandish just turned and looked at Adrin. “If you take them to Alath, the Guardians can keep track of them. My uncle will see to their safety.”
Adrin sighed and frowned. “I’ll try to talk her into it.”
“Where would you take them?” Kandish asked, he sounded concerned.
“Soroth. My father-in-law has a place in the forest. They’ll be hidden there.”
Kandish nodded, then glanced to Cornar. “Are you okay?”
Cornar nodded but didn’t speak. He was overcome by witnessing his father’s demise. Now he and Iltar had something else in common.
Kandish and Adrin walked away, leaving Cornar in the barn with the corpses of Vedin and Melthas. After a moment, Cornar removed his armor and knelt beside his father’s corpse. Melthas gazed at the ceiling with that fierce determination. Cornar was glad to see that was his final moment. He had always thought of his fat
her as fierce and determined, full of zeal. Witnessing his last moments only cemented that legacy.
“I feel like I’ve learned much from you,” Cornar said, tears welling in his eyes. “I always wanted to fight beside you, and now I can say that I have.”
“Oh, Cor…”
That was Iltar’s voice. But this time it wasn’t in Cornar’s mind.
Startled, Cornar spun, seeing Iltar—clothed in his typical black garb—standing beside a bale of hay. Anger contorted Iltar’s brow and twisted his lips. Their eyes met and Iltar started.
“Can you see me?” Iltar asked, anger tainting his words.
“Yes…” Cornar replied, settling into an apprehensive posture.
Iltar squinted thoughtfully, the squint on his left eye more pronounced. That was something Iltar did when thinking deeply on a subject. But this couldn’t be Iltar. It had to be that creature who mimicked everyone.
“You’re not Iltar,” Cornar said sternly. “I don’t know what you are, but you’re not him.”
Iltar laughed. “I’m as much Iltar as you are Cornar. I know Reflection looks and sounds like me, but he’s not me, Cor. Trust me.”
Cornar furrowed his brow, confused. Who was Reflection?
“Look,” Iltar said, gesturing with his hand. “I know you’re not going to believe me, but I’ve been beside you since you almost fell out that window. I was nearing the castle when I saw the battle erupt and ran to investigate it. Had to climb the walls with my magic…”
Iltar continued relating the tale, claiming he couldn’t interact with anything. His story made sense. The shouting Cornar heard in his mind was frustrated.
He smiled wryly at Cornar. “I’m glad you survived that ordeal,” Iltar said with relief. “You should avenge him,” he said, gesturing to Melthas. “I saw what Kaescis did. That bastard needs to pay for killing your father. You know, he’s probably responsible for my parents’ deaths, too.”