by Chris Lange
“They’re weapons. That’s why they’re glowing.”
He was a man of war. Without a care for his injury, he shifted the disc to his free hand and placed it between his fingers before raising it above the boulder. A white beam flew out of the small shape and struck the fortress with a loud bang.
On her knees, head sticking out of the side of the rock to watch the destruction of the enemy, she yelped with excitement.
“Yes. I knew it.”
In spite of the clash, the fortress remained undamaged. A faint shadow rippled over the structure when the magic from the disc hit it. Just for a brief instant, though long enough for her to understand.
“I don’t believe this.”
“What?”
“There’s a shield around the fortress, and the magic from the disc can’t penetrate it. What are we going to do?”
He observed the three shapes. Brow creased, he raised his gaze while extending his open palm toward her.
“Maybe we need to use them at the same time.”
“It doesn’t hurt to try.”
She seized the triangle and the square between shaky fingers, and waited for him to change position. Once he got onto his knees, he gave her last instructions, his face a mask of determination.
“I’ll count to three, then we fire together, okay?”
“Okay.”
She quickly poked her head and hands over the boulder when he reached number three. A blinding flash of magic erupted from the disc in his fingers and pounded the shield without weakening it. But nothing came out of the shapes she was holding. What in the Creators' names...?
Before the evil in the fortress took an eye for an eye, she urged him down while she ducked behind the large rock.
“Dear Creators, they don’t work with me.”
“I guess you need magic to wield them.”
“So, what now?”
She never caught his reply. His lips moved, but an abrupt hush blotted out all sounds except the blood-chilling voice in her head.
The door is open.
Come to me.
Fear knotted her stomach. She fought the coldness creeping inside her, eyelids dropping from the power of the invisible enemy. The world seemed to withdraw while an icy sensation began to fill her veins. She felt the evil presence all around her, taunting her to enter the fortress.
As if she was drowning in a black pool, the lack of air constricted her throat. She inhaled long lungsful and coughed hard enough to feel pain. Sight and reality rushed back as he shook her arm with too much vigour.
“Ariana, stay with me. What’s going on?”
Biting her lower lip, she stared at his worried expression. He loosened his grip as she focused on him, but didn’t let go of her arm. How come she could hear the malevolent voice when she didn’t have magic?
In all likelihood because the Ancients had chosen her, and the fact that she didn’t possess her magic anymore didn’t matter to them. They’d been dead and buried for centuries, after all. They might not be aware of every little detail of her life. Blinking to dispel any thoughts of the departed people who had trapped her into this role without her consent, she focused on Cameron.
“It’s talking to me.”
“Who?”
“The Darkening. Can’t you hear it?”
He shook his head, a troubled wrinkle creasing the skin between his eyes. Gaze hard, he finally released her.
“What did it say?”
“That I must go inside the fortress.”
“No. I won’t allow that.”
“We don’t have much of a choice.”
Although he rubbed his cheek with the palm of his hand while uttering a long sigh, he kept his stare fixed on her.
“You can’t go. You don’t have magic anymore.”
“But it will grant me free passage.”
“So? Do you think you’ll get a cup of tea and biscuits once you’re inside? Here, give me the trinkets.”
She passed him the triangle and the square, watching him as he attempted to fit both of them within the fingers of one hand. Although nowhere near easy, he quickly managed the awkward position. She wanted to tell him to be careful but, with an intent air on his face, he shot to his feet.
The magic from the objects instantly seemed to come alive. She stuck her head around the side of the boulder just in time to witness the powerful blast of white light crashing into the shield.
The deafening noise tore the lifelessness of the forsaken land. Like an image distorted by the glare of scorching heat, the protective dome blurred, rippled, and winked out of existence. His victorious tone would have made her smile, if not for the dangers still ahead.
“The shield is down. I’ll go—”
He never finished his sentence. A burst of black power hammered him, and he was violently thrown backward. She saw his body jerk like a rattled doll. He landed on his back a few feet away from her, legs twitching, a widening pool of blood soaking the front of his shirt.
She left the safety of the boulder without a second thought to rush to him. Mind ablaze with gut-wrenching fear, she tripped over her own feet, and stumbled down. But she didn’t care. She hurried to him on her hands and knees, lifted his head onto her big thighs, saw his ghastly face, saw the blood reddening his chest. Dear Creators, so much blood leaving his body.
“Ariana, go back to the boulder.”
“Hush, don’t talk. Heal yourself.”
His pale face contrasted with the enclosing darkness and resembled the white mask of death with every passing instant. She placed one of his hands over his chest, trying to avoid the sight of the gaping wound, willing him with all her strength to stay alive. Because she couldn’t breathe without him. She watched as his thick blood continued to leak between his splayed fingers.
“Come on, Cameron. Heal yourself.”
“I can’t. It doesn’t work.”
He must be mistaken, or dizzy from weakness. Her healing skills had never failed her before, not even once. She covered his reddened hand with hers as if she still possessed the power to save him.
“Of course it does. It has to work.”
“No. The magic is spent.”
Hot tears sprang to her eyes as she realised he was really trying to heal himself. The three magical objects had served their purpose, and no miracle occurred. Panic writhed in her belly, forcing her to inhale through her mouth.
Heart compressed with anguish, she desperately searched her mind for a solution, although she recognised there would only be one outcome. His wound was lethal, and they both knew it.
She felt like yelling her rage at the black skies, screaming her fury and desperation at the Mighty Gods who were taking his life. The heroic quest, the long dead Ancients, the evil Darkening, the fate of the Four Kingdoms, nothing existed anymore but the man agonizing before her.
He looked like a young woman whose features she knew by heart, yet he was the Lord of the Clans, the indestructible fighter who watched over his people, the legendary warrior whose valorous deeds were told on summer nights around camp fires. Her tears fell onto his brow as he attempted to smile.
“This is where we say goodbye, Ariana.”
“No. I won’t let you die.”
“You must go and fight this evil. The fate of the people of the Four Kingdoms rests on your shoulders now.”
“I don’t care. I want you to stay with me.”
He coughed blood, and the sight of his red lips burned a hole in her soul. Even as she shook her head, she heard the pain in his weak tone.
“The first time I laid eyes on you, my heart stopped. You were chained to a wall in my caves, yet you looked as brave as my fiercest warriors. I would have liked to see your beautiful face one more time.”
“Please, don’t talk like this. I swear I won’t let you die.”
He must have heard the desperate tone filling her plea, yet he appeared to dismiss it. She tightened her grasp on their soaked fingers as the ever increasing lo
ss of his blood made the hold slippery. The rise of his chest lessened. With his intense gaze fixed on her eyes, he pressed his fingers against hers.
“My life changed the day we met. You’ve given me so much joy, Ariana, that I leave this world with happiness in my heart.”
“Cameron, no, don’t say these things. Stay with me, please. Don’t leave me here alone. I can’t go on without you.”
“You can. You will.”
His ragged breaths seemed to lacerate his lungs as he averted his face to cough out more blood. Throat locked, she stroked his brow with her free hand while her hurtful tears kept on falling.
An abrupt rush of wind disturbed the shorter hair around his livid features. As though the chilly air signalled the end of his pain, he turned his face back toward her again and fastened his stare on her.
“Ariana.”
His voice dwindled to a whisper. She leant forward, vision blurred, heart so tight in her chest she thought she might choke.
“I love you, flower.”
His eyes closed.
Chapter Forty-One
Along with the magic from the Ancients, the Darkening had slain the Lord of the Clans. Now she wanted to tear its ugly face right down to the bone.
Cameron’s chest ceased rising. His light body almost weightless on her thighs stopped shuddering with pain. She watched their entwined, bloodied fingers as if they belonged to different people while her tears dried off, wiped away by the biting air assaulting her. The Lord of the Clans wasn’t cold anymore. He’d never be cold again.
Despite the frosty wind, she seethed with rage and grief as deep shivers quaked her limbs. She breathed through clenched teeth, torn between the need to cradle him in her arms until the end of the time, and the violent instinct to dash to the fortress and destroy the wretched bastard who ripped her soul.
Alone in the darkest of places, she raised her head toward the black skies and uttered a mournful cry. Nothing stirred around her, the bleak landscape only filled with silence and desolation.
Fear no longer lived inside her. The dreadful emotion seemed to have departed with Cameron, leaving in its wake an inextinguishable thirst for revenge. She laid his body on the gray grounds, wiped his blood on her pants and stood up. This day might see the ruin of the Four Kingdoms, but she’d die with the Lord of the Clans’ sword in her hand.
I am waiting for you.
A sinister laugh rang in her head. Heart pumping with hate, she slowly pivoted on her feet to face the fortress engulfed in shadows.
“I’m coming, you son of a whore.”
She probably didn’t need to speak, given that the Darkening had no problem invading her mind, yet spitting insults out loud liberated her fury and frustration. This evil deserved to suffer and die.
Even if her sense of duty would never compare with Cameron’s dedication, she’d rid the world of the darkness’ heinous presence because her love was now lying alone on a barren stretch of land.
The laughter resounded again as she marched toward the bridge. She didn’t look back. Not because the darkness would have impaired her vision, but because death loomed ahead of her, not behind.
The gray soil swallowed the sound of her booted feet. No black magic flashed from the fortress to strike her down as she crossed the bridge and reached the shut gates. Anger rushing through her veins and heated her blood, she unsheathed the Lord of the Clans’ mighty sword.
Now that she stood so close, she realised that the whole structure appeared to be made of ice. Black ice. Thin, high towers jutted out toward the sky, their long spires seeming to sink into dark, rolling clouds.
The tall gates slid open without a sound. Blade firm in the palm of her hand, she passed the threshold of the ominous fortress. The temperature had been cold outside, but it was freezing inside. As she squinted to make out a vast, empty, and silent entrance hall, the voice entered her mind.
Why do you come to me unarmed, creature?
“I am the Lord of the Clans, and my sword is your death.”
Her skin crawled when the Darkening cackled. Determined to hold onto her righteous fury, she strengthened her grip on the hilt.
I have felt your great power. Where is it now?
Dead.
Lying on the other side of the bridge without a spark of life because her shaman had seen fit to swap their bodies. All of a sudden oblivious to the evil presence, she gasped at the realisation that she should have died instead of him. If her mentor hadn’t taken upon himself to deceive them, she’d have been the one sprawled on the grey grounds and Cameron would still be alive.
All because she wished to be as strong as a man. Although her shaman meddled with their lives, the fact remained that her lack of confidence in her own abilities had killed the Lord of the Clans. Well, she was him now, and she owed him to behave like a fearless warrior.
“What do you care where my power is?”
I don’t. This world shall be mine anyway.
“Then, let’s get on with it. Show yourself.”
All in good time.
Not a breath of air stirred. Enfolded in coldness, she darted glances around without discerning any movement. Black ice pillars supported the high ceiling of the entrance hall, but nothing came from behind them. The chilly silence unnerved her, yet she stayed on alert and waited.
Who is the one I killed?
“Nobody. Just a tribeswoman who lost her way.”
The lie grated against her throat even as she uttered the words. She shouldn’t have answered at all, but lifelong habits died hard. Drawing in hushed breaths to keep her wits about her, she raised her sword.
“Come out now. We’ve tarried long enough. Or are you so afraid of me, you can’t show me your face?”
She ground her teeth together when the awful cackle echoed loudly in the emptiness of the vast hallway.
I do not know fear, creature.
Shadows swirled and swished around. A frosty wind bit her cheeks as though the very air was being sucked in. She fastened her gaze on the twisting darkness right in front of her until a form materialised.
A vague human shape appeared. It wore a large cloak hiding its body and a hood concealing its face. When she looked under the hood, she only saw a gaping hole. Yet the form stood as tall as she did. A long claw replaced one of its hands, but it held a broad, black sword in the other.
“I do not know fear, you motherfucker.”
She wasn’t even bragging. She was done feeling terrorised since the moment Cameron died in her arms. Now she hankered for the Darkening’s blood. She yearned to hack the evil to pieces. Blade high, muscles tense, she assumed a duelling stance as the figure solidified.
“Let’s be done with this.”
As you wish.
The shape lunged at her and swords clashed with a thunderous ring. As her arm vibrated from the power of the attack, she finally understood why the Mighty Gods, or the Ancients, had allowed the body swap.
It took all her vigour to ward off the first blow from cleaving her head in two, even with the bulging muscles and giant stature of the Lord of the Clans. In spite of her skills with a sharp weapon, Ariana the healer wouldn’t have been able to counter such brutal and murderous strength.
She gasped, regained her footing, and sprang forward. The violent impact jarred her shoulder when silver and black blade collided. Without allowing her opponent any time to devise a defence, she assailed the Darkening from all sides. Never conceding ground, never gaining it either.
Sweat broke out all over her body as the evil deflected each of her strikes, and the battle raged on and on. Her arm and thigh muscles began to ache while her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Avoiding a vicious blow to the chest, she jumped back to catch her breath.
The looming form didn’t seem to tire. Using a pillar as temporary protection, she observed her faceless opponent. The cloak and hood didn’t move, no matter how many leaps and lunges she forced her enemy into.
Although they might be of equal
strength, weariness already took a toll on her body, while the inhuman Darkening appeared full of spirit. She needed to come up with a brilliant strategy in the next instant, or at the very least, an idea. If not, she’d lose this battle.
Frightened, yet?
“Go to the nethers.”
You know you can’t beat me. I’m invincible.
“Yeah, and I’m getting really tired of your whining. Why don’t you drop the act and fight me?”
Do you want to see what real power is, creature?
“That would make a change.”
She ducked behind a pillar as the black sword struck the place where her head had been. Shards of ice flew above her. They hit the floor with sharp, clicking noises while the entire pillar crashed down. Skipping sideways to stay clear of the huge, frozen mass falling down, she drew in hasty breaths and shivered when the heinous laughter rang in her mind as though it belonged there.
The darkness wielded tremendous power. Now that she witnessed the true supremacy of her enemy, she wondered why she'd been so eager to taunt it. Was it because the outcome was hopeless whatever she did? Wouldn’t the Lord of the Clans have acted in a similar fashion to win the fight?
The thought of him filled her with a deep longing she’d never be cured of. Her anger and need for revenge weakened by the grief ruling her mind, she took a step back when the cloaked figure pounced on her. Blades clashed, but she wasn’t able to block the full blast of the blow this time.
A cry of pain escaped her when the silver sword she held was torn out of her hand, and a gash ripped the thick sleeve of her coat. The blade clattered on the floor, skidded away, and disappeared into the shadows. Without weapon and chest heaving, she stared at her advancing, faceless enemy.
“Who are you?”
I have no name. I am.
As information went, this piece wasn’t worth a copper coin. The evil halted its advance a few feet from her, lingering. Although she sensed that running away wouldn’t do her much good, she made for it anyway. Except that her feet didn’t leave the floor when she attempted to lift them.