The only father Seth had ever known was James. To his recollection, his father had never spoken of fighting in any battle, ever. Yet here, now, among the champions Seth had created, and among the few valiant Knights of Valdadore remaining, stood the man who had taken Seth in as an infant and raised him as his own child. Across the field, beside his brother the king, James swung a sword with practiced ease, cleaving men and spikes of ice with each blow. Seth, lost in thought a moment, was returned to brutal reality as the life of another of his troops rushed through his body. The tide was turning again.
Focusing on his task, Seth reached out to locate the nearest mage then winced as his ecstasy faded and he remembered his damaged ribs. Fireballs rained down from the heavens and lightning danced amongst pointy fingers of ice. Seth concentrated and grasped at the bloated life of the nearest mage and ripped both life and blessing away in one fell move. Instantly the mage crumbled to ash as the pleasure of life power coursed through Seth.
Without delay Seth unleashed a torrent of fire, aiming not at the troops around him, but at the deadly ice spikes designed to impede and kill his men. As death by ice became a reduced threat, Seth sought out his next target. Opposing magics began to diminish as his men closed in on the casters, yet his troop numbers began to fall as well. Seth needed to even the odds, lest Valdadore’s only hope fall here and now. Reaching out again to seek a foul mage blessed with wicked magics, Seth realized he would not turn the tide this time.
*****
Rose smoothed out her traveling cloak and turned to watch her two dearest friends walk off towards impending doom. They had known each other for practically their whole lives, each of them being consigned to service to the kingdom at the same Choosing ceremony so many years ago. Seven of them had decided together to retire from service after decades, and now only four remained. Three of them were here now back where their friendships began, and Rose prayed to her god that this would not be their last time together.
Watching as James and Jack drew their weapons, Rose turned to face those she had been left behind with.
“Who is in charge here?” she shouted.
Moments later a man, perhaps in his fifties yet appearing in his early thirties, extracted himself from the throng of more than a hundred battle mages.
“I am, though currently we take orders from Felonus, captain of the archers,” he proclaimed.
“Wrong answer, son,” Rose said, and spinning round to address all those gathered she continued, “I am now in charge of all battle mages. Form ranks, we march to help our king.”
Unsure as to what was taking place, none moved to follow Rose’s order.
“And who might you be to declare yourself our master?” the man asked defiantly.
“I am Rose Devante, former head of battle mages. I come to temporarily reclaim my post.”
The name alone demanded respect, and the man who stood to thwart her immediately looked to his feet, ashamed. He should have recognized his former headmistress. He had trained under her, as did all young mages, in his first year at the castle. Then she had retired, Vladmere taking her place. It made no matter; all here knew her name and her abilities. Some had tried to recreate the things she had mastered, and studied her writings and lessons. Vladmere had achieved the most success openly, but even so he was but a shadow before the sun. Bodies burst into action and within minutes Rose had four even ranks of mages ready to march to battle with her.
“Follow my lead. If you are on the outside of the formation, use fire shield. Those of you inside, target enemy mages first, common troops second,” Rose commanded.
Without giving any further explanation Rose strode off towards the ever-nearing battle. The formation of battle mages fell into step a few paces behind. Within seconds all those mages vulnerable to immediate attack cast the fire shield spell. A complete ring of fire blazed around the junior mages following Rose. So close were they that her very robes began to smolder as smoke billowed out of her cowl. Rose did not so much as cough; fire was an old friend. Most of her days she spent sitting in front of the fire. She enjoyed its warmth, but it had been years since she allowed herself to enjoy its touch.
Raising her palms to the heavens, Rose chanted an incantation and her robes immediately ignited in entirety. Seconds later they were consumed and Rose walked the remaining mile to the battlefield devoid of clothes, her nude body covered in dancing and swaying flames.
Every trace of hair had vanished, yet beneath the fire Rose walked uninjured. Together with her followers, Rose marched directly into the enemy and, with a wave of her hand, a tidal wave of fire sprang from her body engulfing all those ahead and to either side. Her fellow mages took that as their cue and fireballs of varying size and intensity lanced out in all directions as victims were chosen and felled. Screams of the burning sounded from all around the mages as giant werewolves made way for the walking inferno. Before long, Rose and those at her command became a primary target for King Sigrant’s mages, and though some fell beneath the onslaught of ice, lightning, and fire, Rose foiled most incoming attacks. All of Valdadore’s mages retaliated in kind each time an attack was thrown.
Rose watched as lightning was unleashed towards the giant flying beast in the air above them but saw that the beast blocked the blow with one armored arm. What should have killed him did not so much as slow him. Better than that, Rose located another target, but the flying beast was already upon the mage who dared cast lightning at him.
Werewolf, mage, knight, and flying beast all attacked the mages of the invading force, and within an hour they had been destroyed, along with several companies of infantry as well. Sigrant had taken another hard hit. Afternoon was growing late and none knew if the invading king would press his attack through the night, nor what else he might have in store for them.
*****
King Sigrant sat upon his stallion, near enough now to the front lines to see for himself what played out upon the field. His mages wreaked havoc upon the giant wolfmen; in moments half a dozen of the beasts fell. Seconds later one of the foul flying beasts came tumbling out of the sky, an inferno of blazing feathers. King Sigrant smiled. It was not that he was a malicious man. He was simply driven. He needed Valdadore so that he could continue expanding and he could afford to lose some men to acquire the valuable nation. Thus far he had been throwing pebbles at Valdadore. Sadly the small nation had been crumbling before the pebbles.
As his progress began to slow, Sigrant began to toss some small rocks at Valdadore and now those rocks were running amuck, devastating the large beasts that many thought to be demons raised from some abyss. Even a boulder will eventually relent to sand being thrown at it, and Sigrant had brought both to the battle, sand and boulders. Thus far he did not imagine needing the boulders, but just in case he preferred to give them time to catch up with the rest of his army. They were lumbering things that could destroy entire villages in a single breath, but by the gods they were slow.
Signaling a messenger, Sigrant gave the order to continue the fight from their current location, but to move no further. Just as the messenger dashed off, a great blaze of fire erupted some distance off and began moving towards the battle. The invading king did not have to wait long to see what this mobile inferno was. He knew a brigade of mages when he saw one in action. He gestured to one of his captains and arrows were loosed. Not a single of Valdadore’s mages fell before the volley, though several of his own men near to them did. The arrows meant for the mages burnt up completely before penetrating the barrier of fire surrounding them.
Within seconds Sigrant’s own mages began to hone in on the cluster of flaming Valdadorians but to little effect. Each time one of his mages cast a spell they were set upon from above by a flying beast or by one of the giant wolfmen. If they were not immediately dispatched in such a way, dozens of fireballs were hurled at them, burning them in magical fire. Sigrant’s small stones were failing to be effective. He took mental notes of the failure and began planning for the follow
ing day. He summoned another messenger.
“Have the men fall back a few hundred yards. See if Valdadore’s champions have it in them to press the attack.”
*****
Borrik soared above both forces, his giant leathery wings flapping furiously at times to keep him aloft. He watched below as the battleground turned into a frozen wasteland designed to destroy his men. As the first few fell to its designs, Borrik began to retaliate. Summoning fireballs he began to destroy the spires of pointed ice and, as mages turned their eyes skyward to face him, he either unleashed more fireballs or swept down from above to cut their lives short. With the many blessings his master had given him, Borrik was a force to be reckoned with. Like death himself, Borrik was both hideous and handsome, a creature born of warlords’ nightmares.
*****
Seth watched as a flaming contingent of battle mages marched onto the field of battle, led by a singular mage who herself was ablaze. Seth had never seen such a display among Valdadore’s mages. He was impressed. Watching their effect upon the battle Seth worked with them to even the odds. Over and over he located and snuffed out the life of an enemy magician. Each time he consumed and locked away the immense amount of power released. Seth needed time to speak with his brother, and now his father too. They all needed to realize that this battle was for nothing.
No sooner had Seth had the thought, as afternoon strayed into evening, than the enemy troops began to fall back and regroup. Seth ordered his men, through Jonas, to hold. It appeared the attackers would relent for the night. Such a thing was both good and bad. It was good that Valdadore could get some reprieve, regroup, and properly defend themselves. But it was bad in that the enemy lines stretched all the way to the horizon. They had fought but a small portion of the invading army this day and had lost over a thousand troops, including well over half of Seth’s champions. By daybreak tomorrow they would be facing a force at least three times as large.
This day, fighting as they fell back, they had lost ground at a slow, even pace, but then they had held the enemy for the last several hours. They had given up only a few miles. Seth watched as his brother and fellow knights extracted themselves from the slowly melting battlefield. James walked beside his son, the king, a hand on his shoulder. Behind them another familiar face appeared as Jack came into sight. Oddly, right behind Jack was another Jack. Then the second Jack began to blur and, with a flash, vanished altogether. Seth began to walk towards the impromptu reunion himself, keeping a wary eye on the enemy. Borrik winged down from above and, touching his bracer, he gritted his teeth as his wings and second pair of arms began to melt away, crawling beneath his skin once more.
Sara came skipping out of the melting spires of ice like a girl through a field of daisies. Though her demeanor hinted at playful glee, her wicked red eyes showed a different story entirely. Sara had been a great asset in battle. She had single-handedly killed hundreds of soldiers, and a pair of mages as well. Seth could not resist but to smile at the woman he loved as she pranced towards him looking like the fool come to the funeral. At least she had taken the time to clean the blood from her face somehow.
Now, for the first time his father and his wife would meet, and though it was an important event in anyone’s life, Seth thought the introduction was more or less just a formality as there were more important things to discuss at present. The decisions made in the next moments would change the course of the battle, perhaps the course of the human race. Seth needed to know what his role would be in the days to come.
Approaching the King of Valdadore, the death mage with his vampire wife and werewolf second-in-command came to stand before those whose lives relied upon them.
“Well Garret, we survived again,” Seth said sarcastically. “Dad, so glad you could make it; it seems we have some catching up to do,” he added with a sarcastic smirk.
“Yes, we do Seth,” James replied, matching his tone. He was glad that in light of the current situation both of his sons were still the young men who had left home so many months before. Minus, of course, the blessings by gods, marriages, mutated human servants and such.
“You must be Sara,” James said and reached out to shake the woman’s hand.
“Careful Dad, she bites,” Seth said trying not to laugh. Borrik too choked back a laugh. Garret simply shook his head.
“Now that we have that behind us, perhaps we should discuss a strategy,” suggested Garret.
All gathered nodded, their mood changing to one of a more serious nature.
“Forgive me if I am mistaken, but it appears we are grossly overpowered, outnumbered, and possibly outmatched,” James said.
“That about sums it up,” Garret replied. “However, considering that, we did quite well today.”
“You think so?” Seth asked. “It seems to me I lost more than half of my troops.”
“Yes, but the enemy lost more than we did,” Garret stated.
“He also has significantly more troops than us, Garret. At this rate we will not survive through tomorrow,” Seth responded, “not that it actually matters.”
“What do you mean?” Sara asked, a quizzical look upon her face.
Everyone surrounding Seth looked at him, and the longer they looked the more serious they each became. They could see the gravity upon his face. Moments passed and Seth thought about his reply. It was obvious and yet no one else realized it. It was a secret held by the gods, and there could be consequences to exposing it. But only if it changed the way the world operated.
“I realized something I think is very important today. Not only is it important, but it is a realization that could change the world. If we killed all of Sigrant’s troops tomorrow the kingdom of Valdadore would be the victor, but not the winner. The same is true, though the opposite, if we all die tomorrow. No matter who wins this war, humanity loses. We are all pieces in a game played by the gods. They want the life they have given us back, and the only way to get it is if we die. They create champions to kill en masse to speed the process. Every birth is an affront to their cause, yet every death makes them stronger. If we have to have a war, then the trick is not to obliterate our enemy, but break their will, or destroy their reason for attacking,” Seth explained.
Both Borrik and Sara nodded their understanding. They all knew Seth to be right, and appreciated that he had revealed the rules of the game, even though he was sworn to the cause of a goddess. Garret and James, however, seemed conflicted.
“So you suggest asking King Sigrant to retreat with his forces so that the gods don’t win?” Garret asked.
James stood thinking, as did Jack.
“No, obviously he did not bring this large a force to simply turn around, nor is it likely he can be persuaded. What I suggest is that we find a way to end the war which involves killing as few of his troops as possible.”
“So kill only his blessed troops, sparing the common soldiers?” James suggested.
“Perhaps, if we have to, but there is actually another course of action that would require just one death,” Seth said.
“Kill the king,” Garret nodded. “What if we fail though? We cannot just stand and take the blows for long, eventually we will have to fight back.”
“Perhaps you are right, but there are always options, are there not?” Seth asked.
“Killing the king sounds like our best one,” Borrik said, his feral mind understanding the importance of taking out the leader of the pack first.
“Killing him could be difficult,” James added. “There could be twenty thousand troops between us and him, how do we get to him?”
“If we knew where he was, Borrik could get to him easily enough, but we don’t. We need someone to infiltrate the enemy lines and locate and kill King Sigrant,” Seth declared.
“Do you have someone in mind?” Garret asked, looking first to Seth, then to Sara.
“I do indeed, although I would prefer two separate people for the job. I can make it easier for them too,” Seth responded.
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br /> “Who could you possibly have in mind?” Garret asked as all gathered looked to the death mage questioningly.
“Thousand Hole Tommy,” Seth replied with a grin. “Who better to send than a man who cannot die?”
“Tommy is here?” James asked, obviously recalling the name from his past. “By the gods, I cannot believe that man is still alive.
“And who else, Seth?” Garret asked.
“I don’t know. Someone fast, who can think on their feet, and is experienced with killing.”
“I’ll have the captains find us a volunteer who meets your criteria,” Garret responded.
“What of the rest of us then?” Borrik asked, his voice coming as a growl from his throat.
“We are the backup plan,” Seth began. “If our assassins fail, we still need to end the war. Our jobs are to kill only Sigrant’s blessed champions, those the gods themselves are depending upon.”
“How do we do that?” Sara asked.
“By creating even more champions for ourselves, and improving upon those already created. We draw them out. Toy with them, then destroy them. All the while we have to retreat to stay ahead of the main forces so that we are not killing those who don’t have to die,” Seth answered.
“What if we fail on both accounts?” James asked.
“We retreat to the city and hope that Sigrant runs out of supplies over the winter and is forced to withdraw,” Seth said.
Garret stood silently thinking upon his brother’s words. Ignoring the whole god involvement completely, the argument still held weight. If either force was weakened significantly following the battle, another army led by the ogres, trolls, goblins, or who knows what would invade soon enough to finish either or both sides off. It was a battle where both sides lost. The only other alternative was to surrender, but Garret had sworn to protect the kingdom, not surrender it. He would heed his brother’s warnings for now, but if all else failed, he would do what he could to decimate Sigrant and his troops.
The Champions Page 4