by AC Cobble
“Y-You….” stammered Rew. He didn’t know what to say.
“Due to Heindaw, my daughter believes that I perished in a fire four years ago. She thinks I did it to save myself from falling into Vaisius Morden’s clutches. Heindaw implanted the thought into her as motivation to do his bidding. The only thing she and the prince are wrong about is the timing. I will not grant your necromancer the power stored in the crypts, but I will seal it from the king. That’s the best help I can give you along with the research contained within this book. Destroying the temple will be my final contribution to the war.”
“What about Heindaw?” asked Zaine, her eyes darting toward the doorway as if expecting the prince to enter at any moment.
“If you cannot defeat the prince, then you have no chance against the king. I wish you luck with both.”
Calmly, the old man moved to a cabinet and removed a dusty bottle of wine. He opened it while they all looked on in confusion. He poured himself a glass and swirled the liquid, watching it run down the sides of the cup.
He raised the glass and said, “When I finish this, I will set this temple afire with a flame hot enough to melt the entire structure and destroy the vessel the king imprisons Iyre’s souls within. The crypt will be nothing more than molten copper and ash. Not even Vaisius Morden will be able to salvage materials from what I destroy. I’ve had my allies set wards. The fire won’t reach far past the temple, but for your own safety, I recommend being at least four or five blocks away.”
The old man sipped his wine and licked his lips. He sighed. “I bought this months after Jacquiss was born. It’s from Vaeldon’s finest vineyard. I could not afford it then, but her mother had left us, and it was a promise to her and myself that I would never leave. I am here, but I don’t know if I kept that promise. I meant to share the bottle with her one day, but I was always waiting for the right occasion. It was… what we did each evening, drink wine together.” Smiling bitterly, the old man added, “If only I’d known the right occasion was then, any time. Any time but now.”
He took another sip.
“We, ah, we should go,” worried Zaine.
“You should,” agreed Jacob. “My daughter… She is in the thrall of Heindaw’s suggestions, but that is all that they are. He cannot control her completely. The armor has clouded her eyes and her mind, but those eyes can be opened. Tell her the truth about me. Spare her, if you can, but you must shock her if you mean to pierce the veil the prince laid upon her. She thought she was deceiving me when she left, and I believe still carries that guilt. Tell her I live. Tell her I forgive her. It may break the hold Heindaw has on her, or it may not, but it will give me peace, and I hope her as well.”
“Wait—“ said Rew, watching wild eyed as Jacob took another sip of his wine.
“Go, now,” instructed the old man. “If you’re inside of the temple when it burns, you will not survive.”
Cinda took the book from Jacob’s desk and tucked it away. Rew led them back into the corridor and through the twisting warren of passageways until they entered the entrance hall of the temple. The two torches still burned beside the golden altar, but now, both doors in the front were thrown open wide.
“King’s Sake,” growled Rew, drawing his longsword. “We waited too long.”
The doors were open wide, but little additional light reached them. Standing in the doorway was a massive, hulking shape. Spreading around it were smaller figures, garbed in the robes of spellcasters. Rew couldn’t identify the colors in the low light, but he guessed they were invokers. In the center, the giant shape, he didn’t know…
Until it stepped forward, blazing alight with infernal lines of glowing red script. It was a suit of armor, a huge suit of full plate armor. The metal mountain was thrice the size of Raif, and it drew a blade that was not much longer than the fighter’s but was twice as wide. The sword glowed with the same pulsating red script as the armor. That wasn’t a good sign.
From within the bronze helm of the armor, Rew heard a high-pitched cackle and the voice of his younger brother, Prince Heindaw. “You should see your faces right now. I’d thought to save this display for Valchon… but this is worth it. Rew, you look like a fool.”
Zaine released an arrow that Rew hadn’t seen her nock. The arrow clinked pitifully off the giant mass of bronze. Heindaw laughed again.
“Ranger,” hissed Cinda, “the well of power housed within this place is still kept from me. If Jacob is right and the king himself couldn’t break the seal, I have no chance. There’s an ocean of strength, but I can’t touch it. I can cast a little funeral fire at them, but I’m afraid…”
“We don’t have time,” cracked Anne. “We have to—“
“I’ll hold him off,” growled Raif, his armor clanking as he stepped forward. He raised his greatsword. “Cinda, gather what you can.”
The fighter looked tiny, framed against the giant shape of Heindaw. His sword, a large weapon in any other circumstance, appeared to be a child’s toy.
“I meant we don’t have time before Jacob ignites this place,” hissed Anne. “We have to get out of the temple.”
Zaine fired another arrow, which bounced off just as harmlessly as the first.
“If we can trap him inside…” murmured Rew, glancing around wildly. “Cinda, gather what power you can, but don’t bother trying to win the fight. Just get everyone out of here.”
The exit to the temple was on the other side of Prince Heindaw and his minions. As soon as Jacob finished his wine, he was going to set the place on fire with a blaze strong enough to destroy the crypt and the well of power housed within it. Rew had no reason to doubt the priest of the Cursed Father knew what he was talking about. If they could trap Heindaw inside the temple and escape with their lives… it would be just like how they defeated Calb. It could work.
With groaning clanks, Heindaw’s armored form began striding toward them. His spellcasters stayed back, watching the action. The prince must have instructed them to let him finish the fight. Easy to do when encased within fifty stone of enchanted bronze.
Rew studied his brother’s movements, watching for chinks in his armor, places a well-aimed blow could slide through, but the joints in the armor seemed as impervious as the plates. Enchanted by Heindaw himself, Rew didn’t figure he would have any chance of actually cutting through that pile of metal. Blessed Mother, even if it wasn’t enchanted, the stuff looked like solid slabs of bronze, several times thicker than normal plate. No man could even move such weight without the help of high magic. There wasn’t—
The visor. In the low light, Rew could see Heindaw’s eyes reflecting the illumination of the torches.
Rew glanced around then retreated and jumped on top of the golden altar. To the others, he whispered, “Circle around behind him, but don’t charge the spellcasters. They may be a small threat compared to Heindaw, but they’re still dangerous. I’d like to avoid fighting so many of them if we can. Distraction, not direct contact, that’s our way out of here.”
Anne led the children toward the columns that lined the right side of the room. Heindaw’s armored head turned, and Rew knew the prince was watching Cinda.
Behind him, his spellcasters shifted. One of them called out, “She won’t get by us, m’lord.”
Heindaw turned back to Rew, and his voice echoed metallically from within the suit of armor. “Good. This won’t take long.”
The armor, dark in the dimly lit room except for the whorls of intricate glowing runes, seemed to throb like a heartbeat. Heindaw raised the enchanted sword, and Rew crouched, waiting. Aside from the sheer size of the armor and the fact that it granted his brother enough strength to even move it, Rew didn’t know what properties it might endow upon the prince. He was the kingdom’s preeminent enchanter. What would he have imbued into his own personal set of plate? Something to face Valchon, he’d said. Heindaw would have prepared the suit for a battle against an invoker, which meant Rew had a chance.
Heindaw showed no
fear at all and strode purposefully closer. At three long steps from the golden altar, he raised his sword above his head, preparing to bring it down and smite Rew in two.
Rew sprang at Heindaw, launching himself off the altar the moment before his brother began his stroke down, stabbing at the thin slit in the prince’s helm. Rew could see his brother’s eyes there, barely visible in the dark, just pinpoints of reflection. Heindaw would have expected Rew to dodge, to run, to—
Rew’s longsword nearly jolted out of his hands. The open space in front of Heindaw’s eyes crackled with a spiderweb of white energy. A magical barrier.
Scrambling to hold onto his longsword as he fumbled it from the unexpected impact, Rew bounced off the solid metal chest of Heindaw and fell back onto the golden altar. He stared up in surprise at his younger brother.
“Fitting,” said Heindaw. Then, he finished his stroke, bringing his sword down.
Rew rolled away a breath before the enchanted bronze sword cleaved into the golden altar, slicing it in half as neatly as a wheel of soft cheese.
Flopping onto the cold stone floor, Rew scrambled on hands and toes away as Heindaw turned. The prince surged forward, stabbing with his sword with shocking speed. The granite floor cracked where the huge blade thrust into it, shards of rock pelting against Rew as he stumbled to his feet and broke into a lurching run.
He didn’t need to look back to judge Heindaw’s pursuit. He could hear it. The tremendously heavy footsteps crashed after him, just two steps behind. The armor didn’t slow the prince. He was faster than Rew remembered him being without it. Maybe not as quick as Rew, but he was close enough.
All of the king’s sons had some training with arms and physical conditioning. They’d spent years in the hands of Mordenhold’s weapons masters being sharpened into the blades that would kill each other. They only paused for instruction on high magic. Rew, eschewing his ability to cast spells, had spent more time with the weapons masters. He was a far superior swordsman, but Heindaw was wearing a set of impenetrable enchanted plate armor that gave him the strength of several men.
Rew darted behind one of the towering granite columns on the side of the room, hoping that even if the prince was as fast as Rew, and breathtakingly stronger in the armor, that Heindaw wasn’t as maneuverable. It might be the only advantage the ranger had.
Except Heindaw didn’t bother to try and round the column. He simply unleashed a vicious backhand swing, and his huge, enchanted blade sheared through the stone. Rew ducked, the tip of the prince’s sword passing a hand-length above his head. Heindaw came smashing through the broken column, rubble exploding, fist-sized chunks of granite battering painfully against Rew’s back as he took off sprinting again.
The length of the column collapsed, falling onto Heindaw, but the prince simply shrugged it off. In a frantic glance over his shoulder, Rew couldn’t tell if the massive pile of stone had even scratched the enchanted plate armor.
Another arrow bounced off Heindaw, and Rew screeched at Zaine to turn her fire onto the spellcasters instead. The robed men and women were weaving through the columns, headed toward Rew’s companions, evidently not content to just keep them in the room. It looked as if they were planning to capture them, now.
Raif took several steps toward Rew then paused. The boy appeared terrified. Cinda stood calmly, the vapor of death’s breath trailing from her hands, but without the power locked within the crypt, she couldn’t face the combined might of all of Heindaw’s spellcasters. In a battle like that, her raw talent would falter against their extensive training. Without a nearly endless well of strength to draw upon, Cinda would be easily outmatched. Anne kept looking back to the narrow doorway that led down below, where even now, the old man was likely preparing to turn the temple of the Cursed Father into one last funeral pyre.
“King’s Sake,” muttered Rew, slipping and skidding as he darted around the granite columns opposite the rest of the party.
Behind him, Heindaw smashed through the stone, seeming to take perverse pleasure is destroying the temple dedicated to their father.
Surprised and unprepared, Rew had no chance against Heindaw. Their plan had backfired. The prince had anticipated coming out to face them. He’d strategized this very moment and hadn’t shown a bit of shock at finding Rew within the temple. Heindaw was ready, and Rew was not. Heindaw had a plan, and the ranger did not, and he wasn’t going to make one in the little time they had. Their only chance was to run and hope that the prince was caught within the coming conflagration.
“Anne!” cried Rew. “I’ll clear the path.”
He didn’t need to tell her the rest. He turned and ran straight for the spellcasters, who were halfway into the room now, hiding behind the columns, watching for Cinda’s spells.
Heindaw, with the inevitability of an avalanche, came after Rew.
Chapter Twenty-One
The spellcasters, seeing what Rew was attempting, finally unleashed their magic. Heaving globs of liquid fire, fists of solid sound, and jagged spears of ice erupted into reality, streaking toward the ranger. He slithered between them like a snake, but the huge armored form of Heindaw was harder to miss, and blast after blast of magic thundered into the prince. Rew didn’t turn to look, but he heard the footsteps faltering behind him, but they did not stop.
Protected by the enchanted armor or by his own magic, the prince kept coming, just as Rew had expected. The ranger chased into the spellcasters like a dog into a flock of geese, and the men and women released their spells trying to strike him. Rew avoided the flames and the sharp tips of ice but was battered around by other attacks. He tried to anchor himself, but they were far from the wild world where he drew his strength. A fist of solid air collided with his mouth, and he spit blood. A line of fire scorched his shoulder, and he felt warmth leaking down his arm. He stumbled as thick bands of air tried to snag his feet. But he’d gotten amongst the spellcasters, and their aim was hampered by their peers, though the invoker tossing spears of ice did not let that stop him from viciously skewering another spellcaster who was on the wrong side of Rew.
Then, Heindaw was amongst them, still chasing Rew, spells crashing off his armor and spraying into his people. Masonry exploded as he smashed through another column. A spellcaster was hacked in two by an errant swing from Heindaw’s sword, and as a group, the spellcasters turned toward flight rather than continuing their assaults on the ranger.
An eerie white-green mist billowed up from the floor, bitterly cold, stinging Rew’s skin. Cinda had released death’s breath, but it wasn’t potent. It stung, but that was all. Clouds of it swirled as Rew ducked and dived amongst the spellcasters, avoiding Heindaw and sewing chaos.
Cinda’s spell was meant to further that, he realized, so Rew took one last looping spin around a towering granite column then sprinted toward the doors, hoping that the rest of the party had the same idea. In the midst of the exploding spells and irritating mist, it was their chance to slip away, perhaps not unnoticed, but all they needed was a head start to get away from Heindaw.
The air cleared near the doorway, and racing out of the roiling fog of death’s breath, Rew blinked his eyes and coughed the acrid fumes from his lungs. He’d been trained to defend against high magic and would be able to weather the spell better than most. He hoped Cinda’s casting was enough to do more than irritate Heindaw’s spellcasters and that the young necromancer had been able to shelter their companions.
A moment after Rew, Cinda and the others came stumbling free. Rew grasped Anne’s arm and led her and the younglings to the two massive steel temple doors. He pushed Anne outside then spun, hauling on one door while Raif took the other. The two of them slammed the giant steel barriers closed, though Rew realized as soon as they were shut that there was no way to lock them from the outside.
There were handles they could slide something between to prevent a person opening it, but Rew didn’t fancy leaving his enchanted longsword or Raif’s greatsword lodged in the door. If this didn’
t work, they were desperately going to need those.
“Well, maybe they’ll think we—“ started Raif. He yelped and jumped back as something exploded against the other side of the door.
The metal cracked and popped. One of the invokers must have flung their liquid fire after the party, hoping to catch them before they escaped. The incredible heat was melting the door. Rew could feel it bleeding through the barrier and see the straited metal beginning to glow a dull orange. The giant doors began to buckle and sag.
“Cinda,” cried Rew. “Do you have strength for funeral fire?”
The necromancer nodded and cast her ethereal green flame against the door, the awful chill of the grave cooled the steel, fusing the two barriers together where they’d begun to melt.
She twirled her other hand, her lips pressed tightly together. Rew realized she was drawing the death’s breath she’d released into a bank of fog on the opposite side of the door. It’d be a toxic field that Heindaw’s people couldn’t see through or breathe if they entered it.
“With luck, we just sealed them inside,” said Rew incredulously. “Well done, Cinda. I can’t believe that… Let’s go. Whether or not Jacob ignites the place, we don’t want to be standing here long.”
“You hear that?” called Zaine. “It’s like the wind. Flame is building inside. He’s burning it right now. Hurry. Hurry!”
They did, pelting down the empty street, fleeing the blast they knew was coming from behind.
“I can’t believe this is working!” crowed Zaine as they got a block from the temple.