At the end of the hallway, a door stood slightly ajar. Ky’ara quickened her step and then paused right outside it, peering through to see if she could discern any shapes. The torchlight in the hallway flickered, and Ky’ara finally took a deep breath and opened the door fully to let the light of the hallway spill in. A woman stood in the center of the room, her back to the door. She turned slightly, seeming utterly unsurprised.
“Hello Ky’ara.”
Chapter 23: Final Battle
Ky’ara stepped into the room, eying Il’esandra warily. The noblewoman was taller than she remembered, or maybe it was an illusion brought on by the cut of the dress she wore. The deep burgundy fabric caught the light of the torches and reflected it in various shades of red. In the dim light, it looked like blood.
“Il’esandra,” Ky’ara acknowledged tersely, her eyes scanning the room. Her breath caught in her throat. Taren hung near the back wall, directly behind Il’esandra. His wrists were bound above his head with coarse ropes, his feet locked in iron blocks that just barely touched the floor. Blood, both old and new, caked his clothing, which hung in rags from his gaunt frame. His hair was matted and nearly indistinguishable from the grime that covered his face. For a single, heart-stopping moment, Ky’ara was sure he was dead.
“I see that I have something you want,” Il’esandra said lightly, finally turning to face her.
“He’s not a ‘thing’” Ky’ara said through gritted teeth, struggling to keep from racing across the room and pulling him down from that horrifying position, “he’s a human being—a person who deserves a life.” Her voice hitched, and she closed her mouth suddenly, afraid if she continued she would start sobbing uncontrollably.
“Oh, he’s still alive, don’t you worry. I figured I might need a little leverage, to help you make the right decision.” Il’esandra smiled sickeningly.
“And what decision is that?” Ky’ara asked, debating whether to try a spell to free him while they spoke. In the end she decided against it—it was too risky. She could probably get him free, but Il’esandra would likely just kill him then to prove a point. ‘I found them Joran, get down here if you can.’
“Give me the crystal, and I’ll let your man go.” Il’esandra held out her hand expectantly.
Ky’ara brought a hand to her chest, gripping the jewel through her shirt. It was still pulsing slightly, reacting to the Destroyer’s presence. For the briefest of moments, her resolve wavered. She didn’t even know how to use the thing, why not give it up in exchange for Taren’s life?
Because she wants it. The thought crossed Ky’ara’s mind. Taren had told her the Destroyer could not use the crystal, so if Il’esandra wanted it so badly, it meant she was afraid of what Ky’ara might do with it. Surprisingly, this gave Ky’ara a burst of hope. She had something the Destroyer feared.
“I don’t even know he’s alive,” she said aloud, trying to buy a little time. If Joran could get there, he could free Taren and get him to safety while Ky’ara fought the Destroyer.
Il’esandra rolled her eyes and waved a hand negligently in Taren’s direction. He opened his eyes wearily and gazed blankly ahead. Then he caught sight of Ky’ara and a shocked look crossed his face, followed quickly by one of despair. He tried to call out to her, but his throat was dry and sore—from screaming or underuse, Ky’ara didn’t know. All that came out was a raspy groan. He coughed and spat to clear his throat, then closed his eyes in pain and mouthed her name.
Ky’ara felt her heart nearly stop for what seemed like the hundredth time already. Part of her wanted to scream and rage at Il’esandra for what she’d done, the other part just wanted to run to Taren, pull him down, and sob while she held him. Taren looked up and held her gaze for a moment, his face going calm, despite his surroundings. Ky’ara felt herself steady, and she settled for fixing Il’esandra with a steely glare. “I love Taren, but I will not sacrifice the fate of everyone in this world for him. He wouldn’t want that.”
Il’esandra’s face darkened, and she waved a hand toward the wounded Keeper, knocking him with an invisible blow to the face and opening a fresh cut on his cheek.
“No!” Ky’ara shot a blast of power at the noblewoman. Il’esandra waved it away with a flick of her hand, tossing Ky’ara back at the same time.
"Don't you see?" Il’esandra laughed, "You cannot win. Light ALWAYS begets darkness. You only have to look at the history of that little bauble you wear around your neck, if you want proof."
"Just because evil will always exist doesn't mean we shouldn't fight it," Ky'ara replied, climbing to her feet and watching the Destroyer warily, ready to deflect an attack.
"Evil? Is that what you think I am?"
"The Destroyer has been the cause of death, misery, and despair for countless people. If that isn't evil, I don't know what is." Ky’ara mentally cast an invisible shield between herself and Il’esandra, who flicked her an irritated look.
"Those things are all byproducts of the struggle between Light and Darkness. So you could say you're just as much to blame as I am for all that."
"So stop fighting and let us win. End this conflict,” Ky’ara pleaded, “Let the Darkness go. I know it must be difficult..."
"You know NOTHING of the Darkness" Il’esandra snarled, "No one understands it like I do...Light inevitably creates shadow, but Darkness...Darkness can exist independent of Light. The only way to ‘end this conflict’ is for Darkness to win."
It made a twisted sort of sense, when put that way. Ky’ara hesitated, was she really so sure that her side was right? Maybe she should just let Il’esandra win...with a mental shove, Ky’ara pushed away the fog of doubt that the Destroyer had tried to smother her with.
“And after you win? What then?” Ky’ara asked, finding it difficult to talk, “Would you really let everyone just live their lives in peace? Without causing them so much suffering?”
Il’esandra laughed then. The sound had a sickening tone to it, completely devoid of humor. When she stopped, she fixed Ky’ara with a condescending look. “When the Darkness wins, suffering will come to an end...everything will come to an end. Everything except the Darkness.”
She punctuated her last remark with another blast of magic, forcing Ky’ara to dodge to the side to avoid draining her shields. Ky’ara felt a surge of emotion following the woman’s statement. Fear, disgust, and even pity. Il’esandra was clearly insane. Or at least so thoroughly affected by the Darkness that she had no thought for what the transition and the end of the world would mean for her. It was disappointing. After Iregh had turned out to be so...human, she had held onto a glimmer of hope that maybe Il’esandra could be reasoned with. They could have worked together to recombine the powers and restore balance.
“You’re nothing but a puppet,” Ky’ara said, summoning a light that surrounded her protectively and burned the darkness whenever the two powers met.
Il’esandra sneered. “I could say the same to you—used by the druids to fight their battle for them. The only help they sent you, useless.” She cocked an eyebrow in Taren’s direction, then motioned above their heads. “Even their progeny has abandoned you—not that a little boy would’ve been any help, but at least you wouldn’t feel so alone.”
“I chose to champion their cause,” Ky’ara said, pushing aside the invisible weight of despair the Destroyer kept barraging her with. It was difficult. Part of her wanted to just relax, give in, it would be easier than resisting...She glanced at Taren’s ragged form and stood a little straighter, “And I’m never alone—they may not all be here in this room, but my friends are with me. They helped me get here and they’re fighting to make sure I have the chance to take you down.” She intensified the globe of light around herself, expanding the border outward till it forced Il’esandra back a step.
The noblewoman glared at Ky’ara, the air around her darkening and crackling with energy. A wave of darkness engulfed the shield of light Ky’ara had made, pressing down relentlessly. Bit by bit her shield
faltered, shrinking until only a faintly glowing wall hung between Ky’ara and the Destroyer’s power. She pushed back with everything she had, feeling sweat begin to bead on her forehead. She didn’t know how to use the crystal the way Ekzhad had intended to. She had an idea, but in case that failed, she needed to know Taren at least had a fighting chance if she died. Time was running out for that plan. Il’esandra was too powerful, she couldn’t do this on her own. ‘Hurry Joran,’ she thought desperately.
* * * * *
Lauryn raced down the hallway, not entirely sure where she was going, but following some instinct that seemed to nudge her through one doorway or another. Finally, she reached a passageway that seemed to dead-end in a room with a door that hung off its hinges. Explosions echoed from the room, shaking dust from the ceiling and rattling the doors.
Lauryn slowed and pressed herself against the wall to the side of the doorframe. Her heart pounded, and she drew the dagger she’d brought, then peered around the edge. Joran hung suspended in the air, his face turning purple, while her father advanced on him angrily, one hand crooked in front of him. He tilted his hand back a bit, like he was preparing to turn it suddenly.
“NO!” Lauryn screamed, racing across the room.
Iregh looked up in surprise just as a wave of power tossed him back into the wall. His head hit with a sickening thud, and Joran dropped to the ground, where he lay gasping in a crumpled heap.
Lauryn reached him a moment later and helped him sit up, fussing over his cuts and bruises and trying to determine what she could do to help. He waved her off.
“We don’t have time. I’ll be fine, just need a moment to catch my breath,” he wheezed, delicately touching his throat and wincing in pain. He stumbled over to Iregh’s sprawled form.
“Is he…?” Lauryn asked fearfully.
Joran shook his head. “He is still alive. I can hear his heart still beating.”
Lauryn felt a weight lift from her chest. Much as she hated him, she didn’t want to be responsible for her father’s death.
Sukylar limped over to them, his leg twisted at an awful angle, his face pale and soaked in sweat.
“I’ll keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t follow you,” he said, grimacing in pain as he lowered himself to the floor next to the unconscious man.
Lauryn looked at his leg. “That needs to be set.”
“You don’t have time,” Sukylar argued, as Lauryn knelt in front of him and grabbed ahold of his boot. Joran knelt behind him and wrapped his arms around Sukylar’s torso, then nodded. Lauryn pulled as hard as she could and carefully turned the leg until it faced the proper direction. She felt a faint snap as it slid back into place, and Sukylar’s eyes rolled up into his head.
“Done?” Joran asked. She nodded, and he sent a tiny pulse of healing magic into the man, all he had left, then loosened his grip as Sukylar’s torso stiffened. Sukylar groaned and looked down at his leg, gripping his remaining sword tightly. He shifted to a better sitting position, wobbling a little, but waved off their help. “It’s set. Now go!”
Lauryn nodded, feeling guilty for leaving him as she and Joran rushed to the trap door and scrambled down.
* * * * *
Volleys of arrows swept down on the rebel soldiers, leaving holes in their ranks where the infantry failed to get their shields up in time. Calistra had the mages focusing their efforts on protecting the front ranks, where the archers were, while she covered the men operating the battering ram. The relentless booming echoed steadily in her ears, driving away thoughts about strategy, pushing aside concerns over how long they could maintain this siege, drowning out the guilt every death brought her, leaving no room for anything but the resounding thud of the ram smashing into the gate over and over again.
The rebel archers returned the hail of arrows with one of their own, finding their marks with surprising accuracy, considering how inexperienced most of them were. Even still, the vast majority of arrows fell short of the top of the wall, cracking ineffectively against the stone and dropping to the ground. The Shaari stood by impatiently, ready to attack when the opportunity presented itself.
A chilling howl broke through the booming of the ram, and Calistra turned to see a line of trolls emerging from the woods behind the rebels.
“Asara!” She barked in panic, motioning to the new threat.
“I see them!” The Shaari general called back, sending her dragon into the air to signal the others. Hallahna and about two thirds of the other warriors swiftly mounted and raced around the other rebels to meet the trolls as they charged at the back of the line. Rebels turned in surprise and screamed when they saw what was headed for them. Calistra heard the captains shouting orders to turn about and be ready. The Shaari crashed into the trolls just as they reached the rebel forces. Dragons darted about, protecting their human partners with spurts of fire and well-timed warning shrieks.
The trees moved. Branches dipped and swayed as though caught in a wind only they felt, whipping into the trolls and knocking them aside. Were those faces she saw in their midst? The Shaari took advantage of the distraction and drove the trolls back, their horses nimbly avoiding the roots that tangled the feet of the enemy.
As she watched, Asara was assaulted by a group of DiekSyth trolls, her glaive spinning endlessly this way and that. No matter how many she sliced through or flung away, another seemed to take its place. Hallahna fought her own trio of Elrackon, her dragon flaming angrily and warding off magical attacks as she methodically took them down. Just as it looked like Asara had finally cleared the trolls that surrounded her, one bit her horse behind the knee. The beast stumbled and fell, throwing the Shaari to the ground, where she disappeared beneath a flurry of spindly black limbs. Calistra covered her mouth in horror, feeling a gut-wrenching wave of guilt and fear. Far too many of Asara’s warriors appeared to have met similar fates.
Hallahna surged through the chaos on her mount, pushing the trolls back with a ferocity that had not been present in her battles with the King’s soldiers. Trolls fell, dark blood soaking the ground beneath her horse’s hooves. Nearly half of her companions had fallen.
The booming suddenly gave way to a resounding crack, and Calistra turned away from the carnage to see the gates splinter. She signaled Captains Mathan and Rintas, and they readied themselves to charge. Calistra murmured wearily under her breath, channeling all the power she had left with the next swing of the ram. This time when it hit, a burst of purple light engulfed it and the gates shattered and blew backwards. The remaining Shaari charged forward around the sides of the ram, along with half the rebel infantry. Calistra sank to her knees as spots danced in front of her eyes.
Geri turned, with a fist raised in triumph. The crow of victory died on his lips as an arrow whistled by and found its mark. He watched frozen in horror as Calistra toppled sideways.
Chapter 24: Willing Sacrifice
Ky’ara gritted her teeth as the next wave of darkness battered her shields. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she gasped for breath. How much longer could she resist this relentless barrage? Behind Il’esandra, Taren struggled futilely against his bonds. His wrists were bloody and torn. If he pulled any harder he'd do permanent damage to his hands. He likely already had. He looked at her helplessly, his eyes wordlessly expressing what she already knew. If he could, he would die for her...But she was on her own. Another wave splashed against her failing shields. She couldn't keep this up.
Her mind raced. Even if she could wear down the Destroyer and get in a lucky shot, what then? The Darkness would just go elsewhere—to Lauryn, who had certainly had enough darkness in her past, or to the Queen's unborn child, though without the trauma of childbirth it was questionable whether that would be successful. Even if it didn't find a host immediately, it would eventually, and it would grow enough to end any chance that the world could recover. She had to end this here and now. Did she dare risk exposing the crystal to the Darkness? Was the magic Il’esandra shot at her even the same t
hing as the Darkness that inhabited her?
If only she could use the power of the crystal! It had been pulsing softly ever since this fight had begun, but as far as she could tell, it wasn't actually doing anything. If she could just somehow combine the two forces, they would cancel each other out...but the crystal could not be broken...it could not be broken, and but could it absorb? In a moment of clarity, she knew what must be done. Ekzhad had planned on using the crystal to lure the Darkness to himself...Perhaps she could do the same, and perhaps she could then channel that darkness into the crystal.
Taking a deep breath, Ky’ara straightened, holding the crystal tightly in one fist. She locked eyes with Il’esandra, her gaze intense but unreadable. The noblewoman sneered, raising her hand to attack once more.
This time, the darkness met no resistance. Ky’ara dropped all her shields, letting the darkness wash over and through her, accepting it. Drawing it in. At the same time, she pulled the crystal close, cupping it in both hands and willing it to do something. For a moment the two powers battled each other, the crystal flashing brightly as it attempted to drive back the darkness. Then something in her broke, some barrier she hadn’t known existed, and the light flowed into her as well.
* * * * *
Taren watched in horror as the darkness overwhelmed Ky’ara’s shields and engulfed her in a raging maelstrom of shadow and light. Il’esandra kept up the barrage, emanating a neverending stream of black energy that pierced Ky’ara through the chest and seemed to flow into her. The crystal flashed once and then disappeared, fading from existence as it strove to drive away the power that overtook Ky’ara.
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