by Liara Woo
It broke Katie's heart to see him like this, pushed to the limits of his endurance until he couldn't stand living anymore. "No!" she shrieked, lunging between the bars and ignoring the mild electric shock that followed.
Nashgor hurled the long knife, which buried itself hilt-deep in Halthren's side, beneath his ribcage. The elf cried out in anguish, jerking his head back up. Blood gushed instantly from the deep wound, staining his skin red. Gasping for breath, Halthren looked pleadingly at Katie before dropping his chin to his chest, moaning. Katie screamed in horror. She could not believe what had just happened. It could not have been real.
"Drop him and let's go," Nashgor ordered. "We have a war to win. Let us put the rest of those elves out of their misery."
The demons let go of Halthren, who slumped to the ground and clutched at his wound, groaning and writhing in agony. Soon his hands were covered in blood. Nashgor and Its followers left the room, locking the door behind them.
Katie ran to Halthren's side, her eyes widening in panic. The wound was deep and certainly fatal, and blood was already gathering in a silver-red puddle on the stone floor. There was blood on his lips as well. His life was draining away along with his blood, and it was going even faster because Nashgor hadn't had to undermine the stars.
"Don't die, please, Halthren!" she begged, holding his head in her hands. He was already pale from blood loss, and his eyes were closed. At her words his eyes fluttered open, revealing the dark blue irises beneath.
"Katie," he murmured, his voice hardly a whisper. His breathing was ragged and grew weaker by the second. He coughed feebly and let out a weak yell of agony. Then he murmured, "Katie…leave me…save Joran…"
"I won't leave you," Katie said, tears falling from her eyes. But that's a lie, she realized. I'll have to leave him if I am to see my parents again.
"Katie…I am honored…to have known…you," Halthren slurred. "I…love…you…"
"I…I think I love you as well," Katie murmured. I'm only fifteen, but I think I know what love really is after being around these elves, seeing their devotion towards each other. And I'm certain that I have love for Halthren as well. She wept hopelessly. Halthren was nearly motionless beside her, hardly breathing. His heartbeat was faint and uneven. A sudden thought occurred to her. "The healing water," she remembered. "Where is it? Do you still have it? Tell me you do!"
"In…my…pocket…." he wheezed, his voice hardly a whisper. Weakly he moved one hand away from his wound and down his body to a pocket in the side of his tunic. Shakily he half-pulled the vial of water from it, his hand falling motionless to his side. Fumbling slightly, Katie took it in her hands and unstopped it, preparing to dump the whole thing on his terrible wound. But she was stopped by his frail voice.
"Don't…not all of it…save some for…others…" Halthren managed. "Only…one drop…for me…"
Katie wept anew at his selflessness. "But you'll die," she gasped.
Halthren smiled faintly at her. "So…be…it…"
Katie's shoulders slumped. She pulled the knife from her friend's side, wincing at the weak wheezes of pain that followed. His chest heaved violently as he gasped for breath from the sudden increase in his anguish. Halthren closed his eyes, coughing slightly, his breaths swiftly weakening. Quickly Katie poured magical water on his wound, more than one drop but certainly not the whole bottle, which was three-quarters full. Halthren inhaled sharply, moaning in agony. Weakly he thrashed on the ground. Katie watched the wound anxiously; at first there was no visible change, but then the wound shrunk by several centimeters. It didn't heal all the way; blood continued to spill from it, but not as quickly.
"Why didn't it work completely?" Katie exclaimed, helping Halthren into a sitting position.
"The wound…was...too much. It…needed…more water. But…don't give it…to me…I have…a feeling…that…someone needs it…more," he managed to say. He was shaking from head to foot; shivering from sudden cold. "Besides…it won't heal anyway… Nashgor said…it was enchanted…to take…my life…" His last word ended in a strangled cry of pain.
Katie embraced him, gently wrapping her arms around his trembling shoulders. He slumped against her chest, not strong enough to stay upright. "What are we going to do?" Katie whispered.
"You must…go after…Nashgor," Halthren breathed. "I…I cannot…go with you."
"I don't want to leave you," Katie said softly. It was the truth this time.
"You must," Halthren murmured. "Take…the vial… If you are…wounded…drink it…"
"I will," Katie responded. Halthren seized her hand with cold, trembling fingers.
"Promise me…promise me you will be safe," he wheezed, looking up at her with sad, desperate blue eyes.
"I can't promise that," Katie murmured. She gently set him down on the floor, got to her feet, and approached the door, studying it. Perhaps I can burn or cut through the wood…She turned to the window. It was small, with only one bar going from the ceiling to the windowsill. Katie looked down at the Dark knife on the ground and an idea brightened her mind. She took hold of it and plunged it into the wall, which blasted apart to make a hole large enough for her to escape through. Maybe I can call down a vulture to ride. She walked closer to the gap in the wall, gazing down at the ground far, far below her, rocky and barren. "If there is any vulture left in Kratchene, let him come to me!" she shouted as loud as she could.
Halthren cringed at the loud words. His head was probably aching; he seemed so dizzy. "What are…you doing?" he asked weakly.
"I'm calling a ride," Katie answered as a vulture approached the tower, hovering outside of it. "Good luck, Halthren. I'll try to send someone after you to bring you back to Kylaras when this is all over. Please try not to get into any more dangerous situations while I'm gone." But deep down she knew that by the time she got back, he would be dead.
"I don't think…I'll be…in anymore…danger," he murmured. His eyes were closing. "Who…would want to kill…a dead…elf…" And with that, he fell unconscious.
Katie clenched her teeth. Before she went after Nashgor she knew that she had to try something to save Halthren. She paced the room, thinking back on her experiences.
She'd made the healing potion in Velana…but that had taken an entire day; now she didn't have the ingredients or the time to do so.
She'd seen Halthren awaken Joran and Relenthus with his Light; perhaps she could use some of her own Light to help him now.
Then she remembered her earliest experiences with Joran. When he'd nearly drowned, she'd revived him by kissing him. A second time, on the Dark island in the Ocean of Storms, she'd helped Relenthus the same way. Perhaps a combination of the kiss and the Light could counteract the Darkness that was killing him.
Katie knelt beside him and put both of her hands over the knife wound, pressing it, grimacing as she felt her friend's warm lifeblood soaking her skin. Then she leaned forward, closed her eyes, and kissed Halthren's soft lips at the exact same moment she sent her own Light into the wound in his side.
His skin glowed white. Katie could see Darkness weaving slowly up from the wound to his heart; keeping her hands pressed on the injury, she called back the Darkness and drew it out of Halthren's body. When not a trace of it remained, she lifted her hands and threw the Darkness in her grasp out through the hole in the wall. Anxiously she looked down at Halthren's face; it was still white and his breathing was uneven and shaky, but there was no more that she could do. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and got to her feet.
She crouched on the edge of the hole and steadied herself for the jump to the hovering vulture's back. One, two, three, she counted in her mind, leaping off of the stone and landing heavily on the vulture's back. It squawked in surprise, staggering in flight and flapping its wings violently to steady itself. Katie was also taken aback; instead of the oily, greasy feathers she'd anticipated, the vulture's back was soft and smooth.
"Thank you for coming to me," Katie said gratefully. "Fly toward the batt
le." She knelt on the broad back and tried to balance as the vulture changed direction, flying towards a gleam of light on the horizon, where the thick, black clouds hanging over Kratchene came to an end. To her surprise, the massive bird was incredibly fast, and the ground passed by underneath her with a blur of black and occasional orange. Yet somehow she could feel that the vulture was afraid, and that it was holding back some speed. "Please—fly as fast as you can," she whispered.
The vulture nodded and beat his wings harder.
Final Confrontation
Final Confrontation
In the meantime, the demons were winning. Joran fought like a lion, casting down all that opposed him with a single stroke of his sword. Yet all who fought for goodness were outnumbered fifty to one. Several griffins had been knocked from the sky by stones fired from catapults and were killed by the impact. Bloodthorne was overwhelmed by seventy demons at once; he was slain. Firdin and Reiltin, enraged by the death of the one they loved as a father, fought with double their original ferocity, despite both being mortally wounded. Nelaara's dominant arm had been pierced by an arrow. Many unicorns had also been killed, and Acinoron had a second cut on his face, perpendicular to his first one.
Joran was distraught by the loss of so many brave souls, but he had to keep fighting. They had to keep the demon army distracted so that Halthren and Katie could sneak into Vernisgard and cast down the Shadow Lord. If they failed, Joran knew that the demons wouldn't let them surrender, and that the world would fall to Darkness.
Then the Shadow Lord appeared on the battlefield. The fighting ceased abruptly at Its arrival, and the demons parted to allow their creator to pass through. The elves and unicorns and griffins watched Nashgor through narrowed eyes; Joran swallowed nervously as the Shadow Lord watched them as well with Its scorching red eyes. Joran could feel the evil radiating from the being even from a distance.
Nashgor raised Its smoky, wispy left hand, and a huge black scepter appeared in Its grip, dark and twisted, with a red-orange jewel at the top. Nashgor raised the scepter past Its opposite shoulder and then forcefully swung it in the direction of the forces of Goodness. As It swung, elves were lifted up and hurtled to the ground by a powerful wave of Dark magic.
"No!" Joran shouted, raising his sword and rushing forward. But the Shadow Lord swung Its scepter again, and Joran felt himself thrown backwards with terrible force, along with those around him. Winded, Joran could only watch from where he lay as Nashgor whirled the scepter around Its head, conjuring a large cloud of darkness and hissing snakelike words into it. It hurled the cloud forward, where it split into millions of black comets that flew into the hearts of all of the elves.
Joran fell back with a cry of pain, writhing as the Darkness killed a portion of his Light. His chest was burning with agony so fierce that he could hardly breathe. He lay on his back, staring up at the cloudy sky, his mouth gaping in a soundless cry of misery. For several moments there was nothing but pain; then his mind began to work again. Get up! Show that shadowy beast who's king in this land!
Panting, Joran struggled to his feet, his head spinning wildly. Taking deep breaths, he walked slowly forward to where the Shadow Lord stood; It was laughing in a nails-on-glass way that sent icy fingers of cold and fear down his back. The laughter stopped abruptly as the red eyes turned on Joran. Nashgor had thought the elves wouldn't be able to fight for at least a quarter of an hour, and yet here was a mere child already on his feet, a gleam of ferocity in his blue-green eyes.
Joran stared defiantly into the Shadow Lord's burning gaze. Perhaps I can create a 'comet' of my own. He extracted Light from within himself and tossed it directly into what could have been Nashgor's chest, and the Shadow Lord, taken by surprise, sank to Its knees with a shriek that sounded like shattering glass. Joran smirked. Ha! So that's how we can hold this beast at bay until Katie arrives!
"Kill them all!" Nashgor shrieked, its right hand pressed to Its chest as It stumbled to Its feet.
The demons raced forward, strengthened by the presence of their leader, their king. The griffins, led by Fendilon, Arian, and Occupinvi, dived down in three fronts from the sky, leaping to defend the elves. The unicorns transformed into shining white horses and galloped back into formation, their black eyes burning with determination as they charged into battle once more.
* * *
Loriina beat her wings as fast as she could, her blood boiling with fury. The demons had taken Katie—one of her greatest friends. And Halthren, too—he wasn't quite as epic as Katie was, but he was still a friend.
She'd torn both the vulture and demon carrying the decoy Katie into the smallest bits she could manage. Then she'd had an astounding idea.
There were hundreds of dragons in Dralantia. Most were far more powerful than even she. With them, she might be able to rescue her friends. And… actually, she might be able to bring this entire war to an end. There hadn't been time to recruit them before, since Katie and Halthren always needed to be carried around to places. Sometimes she felt so bad for the land-livers, trapped as they were on the ground.
Her fury ebbed. It was time to see her secret friend, King Elesstone. He was a good dragon, and a brave one. Loriina kept him a secret because the king's enemies would target her if they knew about her. But he would help her now, she was certain. She flew over to her secret entrance—a ring of boulders deep in the rainforest, a mile from his lair—and landed quietly. She transformed into her human form and tucked her hair behind her ears, smiling brightly as she climbed down into the tunnel hidden by the boulders and descended into darkness. "Elesstone," she called out quietly.
A warm hand clasped her own. "Hello, Loriina. How have you been? Are the elves good to you?"
She nodded and smiled. "It was such a good idea you had, that I try to help the elves. It makes me feel so good inside…"
"Great! But…then why are you here?"
Loriina and Elesstone walked into a patch of light. The dragon king was only a few years older than her; he had pale, sandy blonde hair, a lean, muscular frame, and dark brown eyes. As a human he wore a golden vest over a loose-fitting white shirt that hung open over his chest and a pair of brown trousers. When they entered the light he transformed into a tall, powerful golden dragon that seemed to shine with his own light. Loriina resumed her usual form and pressed her head against his. "Partially because I wanted to see you again. I've truly missed you…"
"I've missed you, too," Elesstone murmured. Then he frowned. "I've heard that the elves are at war. How do they fare?"
"Not well, I'm afraid. They've gained some allies, but it won't be enough to save them. They are outnumbered by too many. We need the strength of the dragons behind us if we are to win."
"You should have sent for me sooner!" he exclaimed. "I'd have sent you my entire army in a heartbeat! Come; we will fly forth with Dralantia at our tails. We will awaken the goodness hidden within our race—we will fight!"
* * *
With the arrival of the dragons, the demons stood no chance. Hundreds of the massive creatures, their multicolored scales glittering in the sunlight; swooped down over the battle field, fire streaming from their jaws as they ripped whole battalions of demons from the ground with their claws. Victory for the forces of Light was nigh, and yet Nashgor, infuriated by his armies' impending demise, refused to stop tormenting the elves, who remained on the ground, writhing in pain and misery as Nashgor sent wave after wave of pure evil into their minds and hearts, robbing them of all strength. Joran collapsed after the first two attacks; the anguish was far too much for him to bear. His breathing grew ragged; his chest was throbbing and his head ached. He put a hand over his heart, clawing at the front of his tunic, wishing he could pull out the evil that was trying to dwell there.
For what he feared would be the last time, he opened his eyes and looked up to the sky, fearing that the dark, smoky clouds would be the last things he ever saw. He looked for a ray of hope, and as he searched, a beam of sunlight pierced through t
he black haze, illuminating a huge black bird with a bald pink head… a vulture. And on its back was someone holding a shining white sword.
"Katie," Joran murmured as his eyes closed.
* * *
Katie held the Sword of Light high as her vulture circled lower, nearing the black shadow standing on the ground. She didn't feel at all nervous or frightened, as she had before. While she held the pearly white hilt in her hands, she felt pure, clean, and invincible. All I have to do is stab through the darkness with the sword. Then it's over!
"I will stay with you if you wish," the vulture offered quietly. Katie could feel the fear in his heart.