Angst Box Set 1

by David Pedersen

  Like the others, chains held his arms aloft. The Fulk’han guard who’d shackled the body had attempted to position Angst’s head so it leaned back against the cold stone wall where everyone could view the horrific wound. Fortunately, jerking muscle spasms kept forcing the head to loll forward. So the guard had left him, hanging by his wrists. Even hours after the battle, his body continued to shudder on occasion while blood and fluids dripped from his face.

  Ivan had given the guards instructions to set Rose closest to Angst, so she would have the best view. She was the only one struggling against the iron cuffs, her wrists in a state of constant healing and her arms caked with dry blood. Angst was just out of reach. Frustration itself could wiggle between the space of her finger and a spot of exposed skin on his right leg. She yelled in anger, cursing loudly and making the guards outside laugh.

  “Rose, let him go, he’s dead,” Dallow said quietly, his voice filled with regret.

  “Then why is he still moving?” Rose snapped at him.

  “You think it’s the sword, don’t you?” Dallow asked her, shaking his head. “You think Chryslaenor is somehow keeping him alive. Rose, didn’t you see? His skull was split open. Angst is dead.”

  She ignored Dallow and kept reaching, fresh blood trickling down from her left wrist once more as she stretched and pulled against her restraints.

  “What will happen if you do make contact? Even if he is alive, there’s no way you could survive all that healing,” Dallow pleaded.

  “What would you have me do? Just hang here like you three?” She flashed everyone a bitter look. “So what if I die healing him? Ivan is going to kill us anyway, or worse.”

  “What choice do we have, Rose?” Tarness’s voice was heavy with defeat. “Even if I did break us free, we can’t fight off Ivan’s entire army of creatures.”

  The door opened, and two large gray men entered the room. The first looked around at them with an evil grin then licked his lips hungrily when he saw Rose. He walked over to her and removed her boots. The second guard unlocked her shackles.

  “What are you doing, you freaks? Leave her be!” Hector yelled as he stood and fought against his restraints.

  The second gray man lumbered over to Hector and slapped him across the face with his clawed monkey hand. “I do what Takarn commands!” he said in a scratchy, toneless voice. The man returned to Rose and finished removing her bindings. The other guard pulled at her breeches. “Our Takarn says even though your magics might resist, he’s figured out how to change you. Soon you will have gifts like the other women.”

  Rose’s heart raced like a rabbit, and she flailed, striking the one man’s chin with her freed hand while kicking the other.

  The first gray man backhanded her, and she collapsed. “Leave her clothes on. We can strip her in front of Takarn,” he snapped.

  The Fulk’han who’d been attempting to remove her clothes gripped her bare ankle. Its very touch made her feel sick as he began dragging her out of the cell. Rose clawed at the ground to reach Angst, but the gray man pulled her in the opposite direction.

  “Maybe Takarn will let me keep you as a pet, after he’s done,” the first guard said with a raspy chuckle.

  A chain link snapped as Tarness swung at a gray man’s face. The punch was hard enough to crack the bone helm. The gray man tripped over Rose and fell into Hector, who was ready. Hector wrapped his thick legs around the guard’s throat and twisted until there was a loud snap. The guard dropped to the floor, lifeless.

  Tarness struck the second guard in the stomach. The gray man reeled back but still maintained a hold on Rose’s ankle. It was just enough. Rose saw her chance. She dove forward and made contact with Angst.

  “No!” Dallow pleaded as he watched helplessly.

  Rose squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for pain and death. There was a grotesque crunching sound. The gray man holding her ankle screamed and collapsed. She looked back to see that his head had split into two pieces and bones from his right leg had torn through his skin. Rose stared in shock at the guard’s broken body before slowly turning to look back at Angst.

  Angst stood. He reached up to his healed face and shuddered. He looked at Rose with all the gratitude that could fit in his eyes then held his right hand high in the air. The shackles around his wrists wrenched open as he willed the iron to break apart. Still raised over his head, his hand glowed with an aura of a bright blue light. The ground and walls shook and a distant scream reached them. Though the sound was indistinct, he knew it came from Ivan. A crack opened above Angst in the ceiling of their dungeon cell. Chryslaenor, dripping with purple ooze after being forcefully torn from Ivan’s grip, slowly lowered through the new opening into Angst’s waiting hand.

  “Yes,” Angst whispered. He let go, completely, and allowed the sword to bond and make him Al’eyrn. Lightning poured from the tip of the blade, showering him in arcs of blue and white light. Everyone in the room squeezed their eyes shut, turning away from the brightness.

  Angst experienced a sudden moment of clarity, an epiphany that seemed as if it would never end. He gave part of himself to the sword, sacrificed a piece of that which made him Angst, and replaced it with Chryslaenor. Moments passed as the bonding seeped into his being. A single tear dripped down his cheek at the loss, followed by an intake of breath as he realized all he’d gained in return. Chryslaenor’s song filled him with knowledge and experience. He knew how to use the foci, and he knew how to defeat Ivan.

  “Angst, are you...” Dallow began, but let the words trail off.

  Angst opened his eyes, now glowing bright blue from the infusion of power. He looked at each of his friends, and his heart filled with rage at the state of things. “Everyone stand back,” he said in a voice that echoed around the room, a voice not quite wholly his.

  The remaining shackles and the iron door transformed to sand and cascaded to the dungeon floor. His friends shuffled away to stand against the far wall, still weak and disoriented from their confinement. Angst made a swatting gesture at the dungeon roof. Every particle of ground and building over them shattered and flew into the sky. He drew a circle around himself in the dungeon floor with Chryslaenor then stepped into the middle. The circle wrenched away from the ground, a gliding stone platform that rose and carried him through the ceiling.

  Determination and anger flowed through Angst’s veins. He’d had enough of his friends being abused, he was sick of unknown wild magics, and was done being dead. Angst’s jaw set around his gritted teeth. He shook with fury as the platform made its way to Ivan. He crouched to steady himself, gripping Chryslaenor’s hilt.

  The great sword sang proudly, apparently eager to communicate with an Al’eyrn for the first time in millennia. It flooded the Chryslaenor part of his mind with songs of history and spells and other foci. Angst took it all in with deep breaths and fierce vigilance. It had been only a brief time since Ivan had utterly destroyed him. In spite of what Angst was gaining from becoming Al’eyrn, Ivan was incredibly powerful and now bolstered with the confidence of victory. His bonding had just happened, it was too new, and Angst realized this battle would require every ounce of his resolve.

  Angst’s stone platform flew over the city, and he soon spied Ivan. The monster stood in the middle of his makeshift stadium, smugly lookin over the crowd of worshiping Fulk’han, satisfaction consuming his large face. Scar had once again transformed into the giant monster dog. He sat next to Ivan, stoic and unmoving, though Angst thought he saw the briefest of tail wags at his approach. Ivan studied the platform as it came into view. The confused look on his masquerade face changed to concern, and finally disbelief when he realized it was Angst.

  “Why aren’t you dead?” Ivan asked incredulously. His booming voice was a dark echo in the ominous silence of his stadium, and the Fulk’han worshipped even more vehemently, bowing faster and deeper, in fear of their new god.

  Angst lifted Chryslaenor and pointed it at Ivan’s face. Ivan tsked and shook his head mockingly.
Angst urged the platform to inch forward slowly, dramatically, while still holding his blade aloft. Ivan sneered at his arrival as though Angst were a gnat preparing to battle a mountain. Angst spun in one giant arc, slapping Ivan on the cheek with the flat of his enormous blade. There was no muscle behind the strike, no magic, and no way monster-Ivan could’ve felt actual pain. But the memory of Angst’s previous assault struck deeper and harsher than any mere cut.

  In an instant, Ivan’s haughty look of omnipotence became one of shock and anger. Ivan reached up to swat Angst away, only to find his blow deflected by the invisible shield of air Angst had fashioned, thanks to Aerella’s attempted lesson.

  “How many times am I going to have to do this before you figure it out?” Angst spat. “We want you to leave!” Chryslaenor met Ivan’s cheek with a loud, humiliating slap as Angst spun once more.

  Ivan roared in fury, and swung to punch at Angst like some petty brawler. Angst let the shield drop and sliced deep into Ivan’s hand. It split down the center to the wrist. Ivan yanked his hand away and stepped back to cradle his new wound and assess the situation. The purple tubes reformed around the damage, though much slower than Angst remembered earlier wounds healing.

  “You were an appalling failure as a knight. That’s why Isabelle dismissed you from Unsel!” Angst yelled, spinning once more to slap the giant.

  Faster than thought, Ivan grabbed Angst with his uninjured hand and lifted him high into the air. Ivan paused to gather all his strength, winding up to throw Angst down harder than before, but stopped abruptly, howling in pain. Scar had leaped at him, sinking his large fangs deep into Ivan’s leg. The beast dog jerked its mouth from side to side, pulling out wiggling purple cables, exposing the darkness within Ivan. Scar shook his prize bits of Ivan like a puppy with a toy. Ivan was reaching down with his injured hand to bat Scar away when several large boulders rained down and pummeled his back.

  Distracted by this new attack, Ivan let go. Angst dove with Chryslaenor before him, sinking the great blade into the monster’s breast. Angst held onto the sword, riding it to the ground while cleaving the Ivan’s left flank like a butcher.

  “You can’t do this! I am Magic!” Ivan screamed in disbelief as he reeled back.

  Angst landed on his stone platform, and immediately rose high into the air. “You’re going crazy in there again, aren’t you, Ivan? Can’t you even do this right?”

  Ivan was becoming disoriented. Distracted by the barrage of insults, he kicked at Scar while trying to dodge the whirlwind of boulders and pieces of building Angst threw at Ivan’s back. He definitely wasn’t fighting like an omniscient god; Ivan fought like a man.

  When Angst’s platform reached Ivan’s head, he dove blade-first into the other side of Ivan’s chest, cutting deep into the monster’s muculent hide. Angst gripped tight as Chryslaenor tore into Ivan’s right side, rending a new gash that reached from the monster’s chest to his leg. The platform was already rising to catch him before Angst hit the ground.

  Ivan instinctively held pieces of his ravaged body together, gripping both of his sides. Scar spat out his wormy plaything and bit deep into Ivan’s other leg while Angst rode his stone disk into the air once again. The onslaught of giant stones continued to attack Ivan. The monster Ivan looked around for someone to come to his aid, but the Fulk’han had already begun to flee.

  “Look around you, Ivan!” crowed Angst. “These people you violated don’t worship you! They worship what you’re failing to hold inside. I’m going to show them all who you truly are!”

  “I’ll show you what I really am!” Ivan roared in a thunderous voice filled with desperation. “I’ll show you how much power I can wield!”

  Ivan let go of his wounded sides and threw his head back. He reached for the clouds. A whirl of darkness spun downward from the eye of the storm, and the clouds lowered into his grasping hands.

  Angst heard screams from below and looked down from his platform to watch the Fulk’han escape. Even Scar had leaped up the stairs to move away. The ground quaked violently. Cracks appeared all around the stadium, growing larger until the very floor beneath Ivan gave way. Ivan hovered over an opening large enough to swallow him whole. Vex’kvette bubbled through the opening, billowing black and orange, rising until it met Ivan’s feet. Purple wormy appendages shot out from Ivan’s back and shoulders, reaching toward the sky in a desperate attempt to absorb more power. His feet and legs widened grotesquely as they absorbed the magic infused in the Vex’kvette.

  Angst watched calmly as he urged his stone platform forward. Ivan’s masquerade face filled with panic as he realized what he’d started. He now brimmed with power he couldn’t control. Angst lifted Chryslaenor high over his head.

  “You don’t want to do this, Angst!” Ivan pleaded.

  “Yes. Yes, I do!” Angst leaped off the stone disk and swung down with every ounce of power he could summon. Angst willed himself to the ground, pulling Chryslaenor through the center of Ivan’s body, cleaving the monster’s chest open. The purple worms that held Ivan together flailed wildly, unable to reform around the dark power contained within.

  “If you destroy me, Magic will just find a new host! Someone you won’t fight!” Ivan cried.

  “What? Wait!” Angst said as he reached his platform on the ground.

  Angst urged the stone slab to quickly move out of the stadium. From a hundred yards away, Ivan looked like a giant shadowy tree with roots of orange and black, and leaves formed of dark clouds. The center of the monstrous tree undulated and writhed, shaking with power. The thing released an inhuman scream as he exploded, bursting out like a tree struck by lightning.

  Angst winced and ducked as giant chunks of purple monster deflected off his air shield. When he was able to look again, the front of the tree was gone, husked out by the great element of Magic, leaving behind a vibrating pillar of black and orange. Angst moved forward to get a better view of this new oddity. Resonating with power, the entity formed a solid beam of dark light which reached higher into the night sky than Angst could see. He could sense its presence. Angst veered to his right as it began to move.

  “That’s not at all what I was expecting,” Angst mused aloud in dumbfounded wonder.

  The ten-foot-wide pillar of dark light crept out of the remains of Ivan. Haltingly at first, the pillar picked up speed as it advanced out of the stadium and into the city. Everything in its path crumbled as it ripped through Fulk’han and away from Angst. The pillar quickly reached the edge of the city and shot out of sight.

  Angst rolled his eyes and sighed deeply, bracing himself. His stone platform would be too slow to follow the black light. He willed it to the ground and cast the spell to call forth his swifen.

  The ram had changed, as Angst had. His swifen was now muscular, solid, and looked fast even when standing still. Light from Chryslaenor reflected off the ram’s polished steel hide, and it pawed at the ground, snorting with determination, as if asking why they hadn’t left yet.

  “About time,” Angst said as he jumped onto the ram’s back. “Go!” he yelled, pointing Chryslaenor toward the path of destruction newly carved before them. In a blur of silver, the ram launched itself forward in pursuit.

  43

  The sword stopped mere inches from Tyrell’s neck, vibrating painfully in Aereon’s hand. The Captain Guard had already braced himself for death. A death in battle, protecting the crown of Unsel, protecting Isabelle, was more than he could’ve asked. That would be an honorable death, and he’d been ready. As he slumped to the floor, weakly holding his chest together as blood seeped out, Tyrell wondered if death hadn’t just arrived in person.

  Never in his life had he seen such a beautiful statue. She’d grown from nothing to ten feet tall in an instant, seemingly formed of the same off-white marble that made up the pillars. No detail was left unfinished. Her short locks of curly hair, her fine stone eyelashes, even the veins of marble that accentuated her muscular arms and sturdy jaw had all been chiseled to lif
e. A marble toga hung from the statue’s right shoulder and tied at her waist, where it flowed below her knees. Tyrell could see creases where the toes bent, and delicate toenails carved neatly into them. The most talented sculptor ever to walk Ehrde would’ve given up their trade at the sight of her perfection. Then run for dear life when she began to move.

  The statue jerked Aereon’s sword free and squeezed tight, snapping it in half. She surveyed the room. Victoria and the guards were pinned against pillars and walls, all staring in shock at her appearance. The queen gazed into nothingness, distracted by the whisperings of the stormy eye. Tyrell lay on the ground behind the moving statue, his life blood pouring out onto the throne room floor. The statue’s eyes narrowed with anger and distrust as she hunched down and leaned forward to peer at Aereon. She snapped the sword into fourths and dropped them at his feet.

  “No! I claim this place!” Aereon said defiantly, once again wielding long rapiers. Oddly, he wasn’t taken aback by the statue’s presence or ability to move. As if pride and arrogance had made him invulnerable, Aereon didn’t back down.

  The stone woman stood to her full height and reeled back, laughing at his challenge. Her laughter was the cold sound of rocks skipping on a shallow creek. “Give up now, young host. An Al’eyrn comes, and he brings your death,” she warned him, her voice like a mountain, powerful and beautiful.

  Aereon’s eyes widened in response. He raised his dual rapiers and lashed out in frustration, spinning wildly. The blades slapped the statue across her waist a hundred times in the blink of an eye. Each blow sounded like a blacksmith attacking an anvil. Sparks and smoke rose from the statue’s waist, but the attack ended quickly when Aereon realized she was ignoring him. With a smirk, she turned her back to Aereon and knelt by Tyrell. She lifted him gently and walked to the nearby wall, setting him down, away from Aereon and his attempted battle.