The Last of Kel'Thara
Page 23
With her task complete, Kaysa lowered her hands, relieved at the release of the strain magic placed on her. “We did it, Marro,” she said.
“You did it, Kaysa,” said Marro as he nudged her forward. “Let us continue.”
With his weapons ready, Marro watched the hall as he guided Kaysa to the opening. Satisfied they held a moment, the mercenary watched as Kaysa entered. She then motioned for him to follow. Marro offered her a soft grin, shaking his head as he did so.
“I must remain here, Kaysa of Quenthell,” he said serenely. “If you are to have a chance, I must ensure that no one else can follow you.”
“But I need you with me, Marro,” replied the young elf.
“You need no such thing. This is in your hands now. I am with you, till the end, but this is my part now.” Marro then ducked as the sound of a pistol barked in the hall. “Now go, quickly!”
Nodding once, Kaysa turned and rushed forward. Marro watched her a moment, proud and pained at equal lengths. Righting himself, the mercenary turned to face his aggressor. As his eyes set on his enemy, it offered Marro no surprise to see that it was Vakk facing him.
“We’ve been building up to this moment for some time now,” said Marro serenely.
Vakk shook his head, evaluating the mercenary gravely. “One of my greatest soldiers. One of my grandest failures,” he said ruefully. “You were once the best in us, Marro. What changed?”
Marro’s gaze lingered before the sureness of his response left his lips. “When you demanded the worst in me,” he said.
“We were tasked with our part. No one was free of sin,” said Vakk.
“And that is why I had to be free of you and Thorien,” said Marro.
“It was a foolish choice and you will die a fool,” replied Vakk.
“If it means I die free of you and your master, then I will die gladly,” said Marro as he readied for combat.
To this, Vakk responded with action, not words. Raising his pistol, he fired at Marro with swift precision. Anticipating the action, Marro dove to his right, rolling once to rise and stand behind the cover of a pillar. Taking only a moment of recovery, the mercenary spun about to the opposite side of the pillar, both pistols blazing their payloads. Vakk was forced to seek cover himself before returning fire. After the exchange, the two opponents took a moment to reload their weapons.
“You’ve lost no steps in your travels. I commend you, Marro,” said Vakk, calling out to his former comrade. “It will be a pleasure and shame when I kill you.”
“I will feel no shame when you are slain,” said Marro as he prepared for another exchange. This time he placed one of his pistols away and drew his sword, mirroring the weaponry that Vakk possessed.
Both combatants then rushed from their cover, pistols blazing, swords at the ready. As they charged one another, Marro struck first in his advance, grazing Vakk’s neck with his shot. Vakk fired back, scoring a hit on Marro’s left shoulder. Grunting, Marro spun with the impact, continuing his forward advance. As he came full circle, he slashed at his enemy, offering Vakk a gash upon his thigh. Vakk yelped and retreated a step as both combatants’ pistols were empty. Marro continued his pressure, coming at his former commander with nothing held back.
With only their swords and skills, Marro and Vakk offered a heated exchange of steel as their blades clashed. Both rivaled the other in their use of a sword and neither held back as they strove to kill the other. In their clash, little cuts accumulated on both sides, yet they never yielded an inch of ground. Soon both were bloodied as neither refused to stop until the other was dead.
As blood gathered upon the floor, the strength of both combatants slowly waned. Marro, with some deft swordplay was able to gain purchase, slicing into Vakk’s side. Grimacing, Vakk roared as he sacrificed his own safety and wrapped his arm around the blade. He then caught Marro off guard by striking him in the face with the pummel of his sword before thrusting his forearm into the mercenary’s throat and pushing him back into the pillar. As his body hit the pillar, Marro lost his blade, giving the field marshal the advantage.
Still pressing toward Marro, Vakk drove his now freed left hand into Marro’s midsection several times. Replying to the fury, Marro brought his open palm up, striking under Vakk’s chin and pressing him backwards. Vakk countered by driving his hand into Marro’s face and eyes, pushing his head back enough so that he could find purchase with his blade once more.
And he did.
Jumping at the opening, Vakk ran his blade into Marro’s midsection, relishing in the feeling as Marro dropped to his knees. Removing the blade, Vakk took a moment to catch his breath as Marro held his hands over the wound on his stomach. Just then, three of Vakk’s soldiers rushed into the room and flanked their commander, swords trained on Marro. Vakk then offered a satisfied grin, for his victory was finally at hand.
“You fought well,” started Vakk, satisfied with his fortune, “But the folly of your defiance ends at long last.”
Marro chuckled and coughed as rivulets of blood etched from the corners of his mouth. “I promise to do my best to tarnish the satisfaction you are feeling in this moment,” he said.
Vakk looked at the soldiers flanking him before responding. “That is no longer possible for you. All that remains for you is death.”
Marro looked about at his guns and the sword that was out of his reach. Nodding softly, the mercenary looked again at Vakk. “Then if my death is to be part of the bargain, I will at least rob you the satisfaction at seeing my face as I fall,” he said before turning from the Thorindale soldiers to face the pillar.
At this, Vakk did laugh. “If you think you will rob any joy from me now, then you are mistaken. I will have your head mounted so that I may always savor the moment of your demise.”
“Do I at least get a warrior’s passing into the afterlife?” asked Marro.
Vakk hesitated a moment, lowering his sword. At last, the elf nodded. “You do.”
“Splendid,” said Marro as he lowered his head in acceptance. “You taught me well, Vakk. But obviously you did not teach me all that you knew.”
“There is wisdom and prudence in my decision, as evidenced now,” said Vakk.
“Yes,” said Marro, choking once more. “But there is a lesson I never forgot when you were also my field marshal…and friend.”
Vakk readied his blade for the execution as he humored Marro one last time. “And what lesson is that?” he asked.
“You told me,” stated Marro before catching his breath. “You told me never to assume that one gun would ever be enough.”
Vakk’s gasped as he remembered those words. They had been in jest once, during celebration of a victory. Yet even so, Vakk could see Marro’s hand moving as it grasped the still loaded pistol in its holster. Vakk screamed for his soldiers to act, but not soon enough.
Squeezing the trigger, Marro fired through his long coat, halting Vakk with a shot into his chest. As the Vakk fell, Marro twisted and spun, avoiding a sword slash from the soldiers as he opened fire on them. Halting his spin, Marro reclaimed his blade as he felled two soldiers with his pistol. The third swung at him with his blade, yet Marro parried fiercely before burying his sword into the soldier’s neck. As that soldier fell, Marro stood fully, walking slowly to where a wounded Vakk watched him in disbelief.
“I should…I should have just killed you where you knelt,” rasped Vakk.
Marro pulled the hammer on his weapon back, readying his pistol for another shot. “But that is not you, Vakk. You needed to revel, to savor such a moment. And that has never changed about you.”
Vakk chuckled bitterly, battling for every breath as he spoke. “You were always the brightest star in the darkness. It was foolishness that allowed me to underestimate you one last time.”
“It is my relief that I could count on you for consistency,” said Marro.
Vakk nodded. “And then, with my last words, I will offer this to you, Marro,” he started as he drew a long breath
to aid him.
It was then that Marro fired, sending the shot between Vakk’s eyes and ending him swiftly. Satisfied, Marro holstered his weapon. “I need nothing more from you, field marshal,” he said before turning again to go after Kaysa.
Grunting through his injury, Marro limped toward the opening Kaysa had created. And while pain wracked him to his core, he somehow felt some relief in that moment, even as his lifeblood drained from him. He reached the hole, placing a bloody hand on the battered wall as he collected his breath, preparing to protect Kaysa at any cost.
It was then that he gasped, feeling a piercing, searing pain into his side. Reaching for the source of his pain, Marro discovered the arrow that had struck him. Turning, Marro pulled at the arrow as he turned to face his attacker. Young Lokus stood over his slain father with hatred in his eyes as he readied another shot.
With a shaky hand, Marro reached for the holstered pistol, but he no longer held the speed he needed. Lokus fired again, hitting Marro once more. The mercenary took the arrow in his chest, falling backwards onto the ground. Still clenching at the arrow, still watching Lokus with a defiant eye, Marro at last felt his strength leave him fully as he embraced nothingness with only one regret.
Kaysa.
****************
Through the breach, Kaysa walked with soft, sure steps toward the throne. Before her, King Thorien waited like stone upon his seat, content to let Kaysa come to him. The young elf held to her courage despite the rising fears that told her to run. There was a darkness emanating from the Ageless King, and Kaysa could feel its intensification as she neared.
With the steps looming before her, Kaysa watched as King Thorien rose. His movements were unnatural, stone-like in fact. She could feel his eyes and intentness upon her as she prepared for her task. Using the magic swelling within her, Kaysa willed the roots she had conjured to follow in her wake. As they reached her, Kaysa willed one to shape and lengthen before breaking it off into a staff. Thus armed, she looked again upon her enemy.
The king’s evaluation ended with a stiff nod to Kaysa. “I’ve not seen such magic in an age. You truly are the seed, Kaysa of Quenthell,” he said.
Kaysa stood, staff at the ready as she watched the king warily. “I have come to put an end to this. This world will suffer no more by your hand. Tharador will be reborn,” she offered.
“Foolish child,” stated Thorien as he motioned at the grand room. “I am Tharador. We are one. It is I who hold the last semblances of life. Without me, there is nothing.” The last word of his statement rumbled from his mouth intensely enough to tremble in Kaysa’s ears.
Kaysa swallowed hard and held fast. “I do not need the power of the seed to see the selfishness of your actions. You have forsaken all else for your immortality, the needs of one over the many. Balance must be restored.”
Thorien turned from her then as he procured an ominous sword. “You speak of things you know nothing of, child,” he said as he held up his sword. “Yet when this all ends, I will endure. I will live on to see a new world. Your blood shall ensure it for ages to come, for you are the seed and I am Tharador. You belong to me.”
Kaysa’s tightened her grip on her staff. “I shall dispute that claim with all that I am and fight you until the very last,” she claimed.
“Then your end is at hand,” said Thorien as he readied his sword and leapt.
Kaysa was surprised by the swift change in the king, for his limbs suddenly surged with graceful and powerful vitality. In one lunge, Thorien was upon her, bringing his sword down in a killing stroke. Kaysa raised her staff up in time to deflect the shot, but the force and momentum of the assault pushed her backwards and onto the floor. Kaysa rolled and reclaimed her feet only to find the king was already upon her in his fury.
Kaysa found herself purely on the defense, unable to do more than preserve her own life through parrying assaults. Thorien’s strikes were powerful and merciless. The king’s intention was to kill the young elf, and he would do so without hesitance. Kaysa knew quickly that she was not a match for such skill, yet such revelations were cast aside by the thirst of survival.
The savagery of the king merely intensified in their exchanges. With each deflection to his strikes, the next stroke was fiercer than the last. Kaysa’s staff slowly chipped away at each deflection, and she was forced to channel magic into it to keep its integrity. This simply angered the king further, who continued his relentless pursuit to claim the young elf’s life.
With a vicious slash meant for her side, Kaysa lowered her staff to intercept it, yet the strength of the blow staggered her. King Thorien then drove his shoulder into her, knocking her back before he sent his fist into her chin. Kaysa fell hard upon the ground as she fought to remain conscious. Instinct prevailed then, for Kaysa rolled twice only to hear the king’s sword bury into the floor where her body had just rested. Still feeling spindly in her limbs, the young elf fought to stand once more.
King Thorien’s anger did not wane, and withdrawing his blade from the stone floor, he continued his relentless approach. Swinging his sword again, the king hammered down his strikes with reckless abandon. Kaysa rose in time to intercept these strikes with her staff, but the desperation in her defense was apparent. King Thorien struck again and again, and was quickly rewarded when Kaysa staff was cut in two. As his opponent stumbled, the king drove his foot into her midsection, sending her falling to the ground again.
The king then took a moment to reclaim his breath from such exertion. “You are outmatched in every way,” he said before walking toward his fallen quarry. “Slow or quick, your death is inevitable. You are foolish if you believe otherwise.”
Kaysa brought herself to her knees as she too reclaimed her breath. Blood trickled from her lip as she wiped at her mouth with her forearm. “You are right on one account. I am destined to die on this day. But it will not be by your hand or choice. My life is for this world and not for you.”
“You speak as if you have a choice,” said the king as he raised his sword again.
“I do,” countered Kaysa as she willed the magic within her again.
At her command, the floor beneath Kaysa and the king trembled. Taking a moment to right himself, King Thorien rushed again at his quarry. Yet as he did, the roots of Tharador sprang forth from the ground like daggers, with thorns and fury against the king. Thorien cut at the plant life, roaring his displeasure at the distraction. It was then that Kaysa screamed as she furthered her will, sending forth a great root to strike the king back a full span as he too met the ground.
The king rolled many times, coming to a stop. Shaking his head clear of haze, he looked bitterly at Kaysa before reclaiming his sword. Standing again, King Thorien moved once more with unnatural speed, cutting through the roots within his way. The act appeared to pain both him and Kaysa as he pressed forward.
Kaysa’s further exertion brought more roots to repel the king. The king’s sword swings grew more furious as he pressed to reach his young opponent. With the ferocity of the king, he tore through Kaysa’s defenses, exhausting the roots that fortified her safety. With the way clear for him, King Thorien raised his sword above his head, leaping forward for a heavy, killing stroke.
Kaysa watched as her defense was breached, unable to conjure more of Tharador’s roots to save her. There was no time for more, only a span of a breath before the king was upon her with his blade and wrath. Kaysa averted her eyes as she held forth her hands to shield herself from impending doom. She knew by the intensity of his scream that the Ageless King was close as he brought down his blade upon her.
And when she heard a clash of a blade against resistance instead of it piercing her flesh, she opened her eyes.
With her eyes open once more, Kaysa gasped at the sight. There before her hands was the blade of King Thorien, yet it was held at bay. The sword was stayed by a swirling green energy coming from Kaysa’s hands. The king growled as he pressed with the blade, yet it found no further purchase. Kaysa then
looked at her hands, understanding that the seed’s power had protected her once more.
Realizing this too, King Thorien’s rage intensified. The king roared as he assaulted the mystic shield enveloping his quarry. Each strike met the same futile results as his efforts intensified. Kaysa, emboldened, stood slowly as her enemy continued his attack. Soon, the king spun, winding up to administer one last, crushing blow.
It was in that assault that his sword shattered against Kaysa’s magic.
Looking at his broken blade in disbelief, King Thorien staggered backwards. Kaysa took the opportunity presented and, drawing on her strength and will, pushed outward with the magic she possessed. A rush of swirling green spat forth, striking the Ageless King and hurling him some distance from Kaysa. Kaysa then looked at her hands with eyes bathed in pure light.
King Thorien stopped abruptly when his body met the steps before his throne. The ancient elf writhed in pain as he tasted his own blood. With shaky limbs, King Thorien pulled himself from the ground, coming to sit on the steps as he evaluated Kaysa in a new light. Wiping the blood from his mouth, the Ageless One nodded in curt respect.
“You have begun to harness the power of the seed, and it serves you well,” said the king. “But you have only delayed the inevitable in giving me what is rightfully mine.”
Kaysa kept the magic swirling about at the ready as she responded. “You have no right to such a claim, for no king is above the tree of all life,” she said accusingly. “Now stand aside so that I may right the horrible wrong you have wrought on our world.”
“Such a path ensures your doom,” said the king.
“As does your path,” countered Kaysa. “Yet the difference is, your path spells the doom of countless more.”
“You are but a child who knows nothing of the world,” said the king.
“I know a monster when I see one,” replied Kaysa.
At this, King Thorien chuckled bitterly. “Maybe I am, child. But a child fraught with innocence will never endure this world. You realize by now that you are destined for death, yet my destiny transcends it.”