Angels and Elves- Act I

by William Collins

  Glommish was happy to be home, back at his Stronghold of Aunchtyre. He walked the stone tiles of the paths wending between the four domed castles of the training facility.

  Despite the hour, many young Realmers still drove across the wide paths in their go-carts, their joyous yells fading to reverence once they noticed Glommish amble by.

  Krysla had accompanied him home. Glommish would’ve liked Loren and Krysla to head their own strongholds like him and Vanderain. Nallador was a lost cause, however, he was scared of duty and routine more than he would be of a dozen Dread Lords. Glommish still felt Krysla would make a fine High-Master, but she’d declined so far.

  The mushroom city spread out beyond Aunchtyre’s domed Fortress. Each seventy-foot-high mushroom encrusted with glowing windows now night had fallen. Thousands of his people lived there, the many who could not wield magic but still needed protection from all the evils of the worlds.

  “I’ll leave for Lord Corridian’s estate by dawn tomorrow,” said Krysla. “I can tell he’s not on board with Belgun and his ilk, he should be easy to bring to our side.”

  It had been a short journey to Del-O-Reth and he’d only decided to go once he’d learned of what Vanderain planned to reveal. Glommish loathed leaving Aunchtyre, even for a day. Here was peace, peace he’d strived to make for so many millenia. It wouldn’t last forever, he knew. Many enemies were still out there, but so were the prodigy’s he’d raised to face them. Vanderain, Nallador and Krysla were like the children he’d never had. As were the other Eternals no longer here. Glommish couldn’t bear to think of them. The grief was a constant anchor around his neck. He’d failed so many already.

  But still, he’d seen the demon god rise and witnessed his fall. But now he was old, even for a demi-god. Becoming High-Master of Aunchtyre was his retirement. Fighting in wars and driving back the forces of darkness, that was work. Living here and teaching young minds how to use their talents, that was his peace. Glommish often thought he didn’t deserve such a retirement. Not when Eternals he’d mentored had fallen, not when so many Realmers throughout the realms had been cut down in their prime. All Realmers knew the risks of their job, of course, but it didn’t make it any easier to digest.

  To the east of the Stronghold lay the red mountains. They brooded over the castles and city both, their caps glistening in gold sand. The nearest mountain was only a stone’s throw from the easten castles and set into the mountain itself was oldest tower of Aunchtyre.

  Glommish came to a stop before the clock tower. Two hundred feet above him was the golden disc of the clock itself, with its dial and silver clockhands.

  This had been Aunchtyre’s very first building, a place Glommish had trained Vanderain before he set about creating Aunchtyre’s city and domed castles. How many times must those clockhands spun? Generations upon generations of Realmers must’ve trained under the clock’s gaze.

  “Yes Krysla,” he replied. “We’ll meet again at Lady Regina’s ball in a few days.” Glommish chuckled, predicting her reaction.

  “You think I’ll wear a dress and play nice with that witch?”

  “No, but there we’ll be able to convince Ladies Adeja and Flyne to vote for less restrictive methods for the spawn. I just hope we can get this whole mess sorted as swiftly as possible. I highly doubt the council will stoop so far as to torture Vanderain, but his stay will be unpleasant regardless.”

  After Vanderain made sure of Brooke and Evan’s escape, he turned himself over to the Republic, where he was thrown into the highest security cell. Belgun and his underlings had wanted to strip Vanderain of his title as High-Master and keep him imprisoned indefinitely, but he, Loren and Krysla had managed to delay the council’s vote until a week’s time. Glommish didn’t doubt Vanderain could break free of his cell if he truly wanted, but things were bad enough already. If Vanderain even tried to escape blood would likely be spilled and then there’d be no going back.

  “He’ll be fine,” said Krysla. “As long as we do our jobs. Loren should hopefully get Captain Daylin on side whilst he attends the voyage to the asteroid belt with her. I’m sure we’ll get enough votes to get Vanderain out of custody.”

  “The council’s stance on the spawn still wouldn’t have changed though,” he pointed out. “Even the council members who dislike or fear Vanderain respect him. It’ll be easier convincing them not to let him rot in prison then it will be to support the spawn.”

  “Indeed,” said Krysla. “Belgun sent emissaries to look for the spawn, not only in Veneseron, but Earth and any other realm he thinks Vanderain might have hidden them. I’m sure Belgun will come sniffing around here soon.”

  “Most likely.” Before Glommish could say more, they were interrupted by an outbreak of cheers and yelling. He turned to see a commotion amongst his trainees several feet away. A ring of gnomes surrounded two human girls who appeared to be brawling.

  “Mariska! Ariel! Stop that now,” Master Cleof cried.

  Krysla chuckled as the Instructor separated the two Realmers and admonished them.

  He sighed, recognising the names. Both girls had only arrived in Aunchtyre recently, but Ariel in particular had already broken a dozen rules.

  “It’s never the gnomes is it?” said Krysla. “They’re good as gold, it’s the few human Realmers you take in that always cause the most chaos.”

  He nodded silently. A fair few of his trainees were the Realmers deemed too hard to deal with at other Strongholds, some had even been banished. But Glommish always took in troubled souls. How were people supposed to change if no one gave them a chance?

  Glommish was about to speak again when he felt a sudden disturbance in the air. The shield he’d spelled to protect this world from tresspassers had been broken.

  “How?” he rasped.

  His tone make Krysla look at him sharply, her face filling with fear at the look on his own.

  “What is it?”

  The sky began to tremble.

  Glommish looked up to the clock tower even as the great golden disc abruptly exploded off the tower and hurtled to the ground. The disc exploded at the foot of the mountain, throwing up dust and shrapnel.

  He knew without looking who had invaded his home. Who had come to destroy it.

  A lone figure appeared in the gaping hole now at the top of the tower.

  “No!” Krysla sobbed, even as Glommish screamed the word internally.

  All was lost. Everything he’d ever worked for and created would be burned to ash. She had come.

  Glommish planted his walking staff into the ground, channeling all the sorcery he had into it. A blue bubble of translucent energy magic blossomed from the end of the staff, expanding to form a sphere which encompassed the castles behind him, as well as the city of mushrooms for miles around. The shield would keep her out, for a minute or two.

  “Evacuate!” he cried, his voice magically magnified. He turned to Master Clyof. “Wake the other Instructors, get them to aid you. Get the Realmers out of their beds. Create portals to Veneseron. Send runners to the city, evacuate everyone. Do it now!”

  Clyof ran at once to do his bidding as he told Krysla to get all the trainees out around them. Several of his Realmers cried out in terror, but Krysla shouted them down whilst she procured the first portal.

  The lone figure atop the tower jumped, dropping hundreds of feet through the air before landing gracefully on the ground. As her feet hit the ground, the earth joined the sky in its trembling.

  Queen Akirandon wore the form she was most fond of, her human body. Her flesh was pale as snow, her wavy hair black as oil, and her eyes a bright, glowing purple. She was tall and statuesque, with lips like blood and the face of a young woman. But no matter how human she appeared, Akirandon couldn’t mask the demon within.

  She wore her armour like second skin and he realised it was skin, scales taken from a black dragon and moulded to her body.

  The woman was achingly beautiful, but darkness still seeped out of her every pore. G
lommish knew good and evil were supposed to just be concepts, no one could be entirely one or the other. But in Akirandon he felt only hatred and cruelty, undeniable fury and an all-consuming lust for power. He had never felt any kindness in her.

  Black mist curled around her ankles as she walked toward the magical barrier that separated them, whilst more mist seeped out of her body, writhing like a cluster of snakes. The demon magic crawled up her legs and caressed her armour lovingly. He could feel its power pulsing in the air, poisoning everything around it.

  He fought down the dread that rose within him and focused on keeping his shield spell intact. All he had to do was keep it stable until his Realmers were safe. Then he would face his fate.

  Akirandon stopped short of his shield, gazing at him through the thin blue layer of energy magic that separated them. She said nothing as the stone at her feet burst apart and great black spires of demon magic exploded from the earth and thrashed into his shield like striking snakes. The spell held, but his staff quivered and his hands were almost thrown off it. Glommish grit his teeth, holding steady as the spires struck the shield again and again, like the stingers of a gargantuan scorpion. He had little time before the Dethyr would pierce through the bubble and shatter his spell.

  “You’ve grown so terribly old, gnome.” Akirandon spoke, her sultry, breathy voice vibrating through his very bones. She regarded him with disapointment. “Killing you won’t be enjoyable as I hoped.”

  Glommish ignored her, focusing on maintaining his magic asit vibrated through his hands and quivering staff. The spires of demon magic succeeded in ripping a dozen holes into the bubble and his spell was set aflame. He was forced to finally let go of his staff as it turned to ash in his hands. The shield started to melt away entirely.

  Glommish whirled round to his stronghold. Krysla had activated a dozen portals and Realmers lined up at every one, jumping through as fast as they could. Aunchtyre’s instructors were ferrying the trainee’s through, most of them had escaped to safety, but not all.

  Krysla hurried back to him, drawing on her own magic.

  “No!” Glommish shouted her back.

  “I’m not leaving without a fight,” Krysla snapped, even as he saw it dawn in her eyes that he was staying behind.

  “You must! Saving the Realmers is the priority. Finish the evacuation. I shall buy you time.”

  Krysla seized his sleeve. “No, you’re so much moire important than I,” she begged. “You go, I’ll stall Akirandon.”

  “My time here is done, child, and I’ve had more time than most. You will be needed in the war to come more than I. Tell Loren and Vanderian what happened here, and protect the trainees, at all costs.”

  Tears ran down her face, but Krysla obeyed his last command and joined his instructors in shepherding the panicked Realmers through the portals.

  Glommish turned back to the demon queen as the last vestiges of his shield dissipated.

  His staff had just been an anchor for his magic. He had plenty left, and planned to use it all to destory Akirandon, or die trying. Better him than the people he’d sworn to protect. He sensed why she’d come. This wasn’t some random attack. She knew. Akirandon had learned more of her spawn were out there.

  “So noble, Glommish,” she purred. “I knew you wouldn’t try to run, not until your precious charges were safe. It’s a shame not all of them will make it.”

  The queen gestured lazily behind her and the bottom of the clock tower burst apart. The rest of the tower crunched down before starting to topple. It would crush everyone. Glommish manipulated as much of the air element as he could, catching the tower as it fell. His arms shook under the terrific weight as he held them aloft. Slowly, he directed his spell to levitate the tower and throw it to the side, where the rock shattered upon empty ground, instead of crushing his people.

  Akirandon had used the time he was distracted to sweep her hand across the ground, where he now saw four bubbling pools of demon magic.

  He knew of most Dethyr powers, but none scared him more than the ability it had to summon dread lords from whatever realm they may be in and force them to obey. Not even dread lords or the other Disciples commanded the Dethyr so. Only Akirandon.

  The four dread lords crawled their way out of the bubbling, hissing pools, until they stood only metres from him, each of them as grotesque as the last.

  One had the head of a jackal whilst another looked eerily like a human woman, but with the pincers of a preying mantis and a second mouth on her throat. The other female dread lord had a second head protruding from her stomach, along with its entrails hanging out of the head. The fourth and final demon lord was a corpulent mass of sagging skin and wriggling tentacles. Only the green orbs of fire that passed for eyes were visible amongsts the folds of fat.

  “I see you know the way to Veneseron.” Akirandon’s hooded eyes swept across the portals behind him. “Will you let me use one voluntarily?”

  “Never!” Glommish began summoning another barrier to protect his Realmers.

  The queen turned to her monsters. “You may begin your feast.”

  The dread lords advanced toward the Realmers still evacuating, but Glommish blocked the way.

  A lump of volcanic rock appeared in the jackal demon’s hands, he threw it to Glommish like a grenade, but he caught the burning rock with air and directed it back at him. The lord’s own spell struck him in the face, melting his very skull, turning his eyes to liquid and skin to bone.

  The mantis demon ran at him, wailing abominably, but Glommish raised his hand high, causing the earth to part and suck her into the ground itself.

  Next, Glommish conjured a window of energy magic as a shield as both the remaining lords fired spells at him like bullets. The spells ricocheted off the blue window before him for several moments before eating away at the air particles. Even as the window disentegrated, Glommish called upon more sorcery yet. The two lords didn’t have time to direct their Dethyr at him before he threw both of his hands out and unleashed twin torrents of golden flame.

  The fire devoured both monsters, reducing their bodies to ash as their screams echoed in the air after their deaths.

  “Making short work of four dread lords.” Akirandon’s smirk didn’t match her eyes. “Perhaps you aren’t yet as frail as you look.”

  He looked behind him one last time, sighing in relief. His realmers had all escaped. Only a reluctant Krysla remained. After a final look back at him with a tear-streamed face, she jumped through the last portal seconds before it collapsed. He could die happy now.

  “At last you show the courage to face me,” Glommish replied. “You’ve run in terror from Vanderain and I for centuries.”

  The queen laughed, a revolting sound that echoed on the air unnaturally. “Conquering worlds has kept me busy, old man. As has the machinations of my darling Disciples and the efforts you Realmers have enacted to try to stop me.”

  He met her glowing gaze. Long black lashes encaged the purple those purple eyes, dashed with scarlet specks. He saw arrogance and iniquity within the violet depths, but also a hint of fear. She knew Glommish was capable of taking her with him, even if he perished in the process.

  “How did you find me and my home?” he rasped, reeling where he stood from all the sorcery he’d used.

  “I’ve known Aunchtyre’s whereabouts for years now.” Akirandon smirked. “I just had to wait for the perfect time to strike. If I rushed in to desroy this place and murder you, I’d face Vanderain’s wrath.”

  “So you do fear him?” Glommish replied, allowing himself a small smile.

  The queen laughed once more. “No little one, but I fear for the well-being of my Velkarath. But now I know another of my demon spawn still lives and Vanderain has been harbouring her, I explicitly plan to incur his wrath.”

  By killing me. Glommich sucked in a breath, readying himself.

  “Demon spawn?” he feigned ignorance. “I thought they all perished. No matter how much you tried, you cou
ld not create a demon, human hybrid.”

  “You dare,” she snarled, the pale flesh of her face mottling black. The shadow Akirandon cast writhed wildly, even as she stood still. “You dare lie to me. You of all people already know Vanderain has one of my children. He wouldn’t keep that from you, his beloved mentor.”

  “I’m afraid whatever information you have is incorrect,” he replied casually. “Vanderain has no demon spawn, and if he encountered such a monster he would’ve destroyed it.”

  The queen’s eyes flashed with incandescent rage. “I’d so enjoy torturing you, but I simply don’t have the time.”

  She looked over to his city in the distance and with just her gaze, the mushroom towers suddenly set alight, burning like beacon signals.

  “You may have got your Realmers out, but your city still has thousands yet to escape,” she said. “Take me to Veneseron, and I shall spare the lives of your people. Withold the information, and they shall die screaming.”

  Glommish wouldn’t help her, but nor could he stand idle whilst his people were slaughtered.

  “You won’t harm any one here, demon. Go back to the hell you came from.” He released the power he’d been holding just beneath the surface, hurling a golden orb of magic at her.

  The orb heaed straight for her heart, but the tendrils of Dethyr writhing at her feet thrashed up, snatching the orb and ripping it apart.

  Glommish threw two more orbs without hesitation. Akirandon blasted one out of the air, but the other struck her side, knocking her off balance and searing her armour.

  Glommish ran toward her, hoping to capitilze, but Akirandon sent a torrent of demon fire his way. Demon fire never went out until it consumed a target, so he side-stepped the flames at the last moment, leaving the black fire to consume a statue of himself made from ice in his place.

  As Glommish neared her, he conjured the full force of his sorcery, summoning a sword of white light in his hands. The magical energy was the highest form of energy magic, Purebrand. If he could stab her through the heart, it might even be enough to kill her.