Revelations of Doom

by Jedidiah Behe

  Lucian came out of the water and was face to face with the huge worvak. It lunged out at him with its razor sharp talons but Lucian ducked it, slicing a deep gash into the creature’s abdomen. He saw the beast coming around with its other arm to swipe at him again but because of the knee high water he couldn't backpedal quick enough to avoid it. The blow sent him out of the river to land a dozen feet to the side on the bank. He rolled to the side just in time. The worvak landed right where he had been a split second earlier.

  Lucian came up to his feet and stabbed in sideways with the dagger in his left hand. The worvak caught his arm at the wrist and smiled widely, displaying its gruesome fangs. As it reached back with its free arm to strike, Lucian pulled free his hunting dagger and sliced through the tendons above the elbow of the worvak’s arm that held his wrist. The creature let out a piercing howl and was unable to hold on. Lucian would not waste the opening and stepped in close to the beast, repeatedly slamming both daggers into its side, between the ribs. The worvak let out a short gasp as it tried to suck in air through its collapsed lung and then fell to the ground.

  Lucian was already dashing up the slope to where the horses were. When he reached the road, he was shocked to see the first large worvak lying dead in the road. Thunder stood over it, hooves soaked in blood. The worvak’s head and chest were crushed.

  "That's a brave boy Thunder," he said as he brushed his hand down the steed's neck. Thunder threw his head back and snorted while digging at the ground and dancing nervously. Something was wrong and Lucian could feel it too. He looked around and saw chestnut laying in the path further up the road. Several arrows and a long spear were imbedded deep in its side. He ran toward Grey to retrieve his sword and something slammed into his back, knocking him off balance for a moment. He spun to see what had hit him and noticed a broken arrow on the ground. Several voices rang out in a battle cry as five men rushed in at him from all sides.

  The knowledge and power that Ijon had passed on to Lucian flooded his thoughts and his muscles twitched in anticipation. His first instinct was to go for his sword but he realized that one of the men held a spear and was rushing in at Thunder. He jumped in front of Thunder and caught the spear behind the blade. Holding on to the shaft with one hand he snapped the end of the spear off with his other. The man tried to pull the shaft free but failed as Lucian slammed the blade of the spear into his chest. The man screamed as he fell to the ground and Lucian knew that it was not from the wound. He stared in shock for a moment at the sight of the dark figures raking at the man’s chest, ripping his soul from his body.

  Before Lucian could register what he had just seen, the other men rushed in and he slapped Thunder on the rump, sending him storming away. The men ignored the horse and closed in on him. They were all dirty and barbaric looking with shaved heads and multiple tattoos covering their bodies. They wore no shirts, only leather pants and boots. Each was armed with a broadsword or scimitar.

  Lucian was immersed in his power now and saw not only the men, but their deceivers as well. Many of the dark figures were scattered throughout the ambushers, watching, and waiting. Some of the men gnashed their teeth and foamed at the mouth, their muscular chests heaved with the lust for a kill.

  Lucian's eyes ignited. He had only his daggers, unable to reach his sword, but he put them away. He was furious and yet in a complete state of calm. Two men came at him at once, one swinging high with his sword, the other low. Lucian was much faster, and had stepped in toward the one on his left. His arms were raised high, pulling the sword back, which left his midsection completely vulnerable.

  Lucian caught the hilt of the sword with one hand and punched out hard with his other armored fist into the attacker’s side, snapping ribs. The second thug missed his first swing and now rushed in to stab him in the back but Lucian spun to the side at the last moment causing the thrusting blade to miss him and pierce through the first man’s stomach. At the same time Lucian pulled down on the hilt of the first man’s sword, bringing the blade down to cleave into the skull of the second, nearly hewing it in two. Within a brief moment, three of the five men were down. One of the two that were left charged in at Lucian swinging his blade wildly, not wanting Lucian to get in close to him.

  Lucian watched the blade move through the air as if it were in slow motion and timed his opening perfectly. As the blade arced around from left to right he moved in just as it passed in front of him, a hairs width from his face. The thug tried to bring the blade back around but he was too slow, Lucian had already moved in to close and his elbow came up in a flash slamming into the underside of the man's chin. His head snapped back as his legs gave out and he toppled to the ground, spitting blood. Lucian caught the man's sword as it dropped from his grip and spun around, launching it into the chest of the last man that was rushing in from behind. The blade knocked him off his feet. Lucian turned to finish off the ruffian with the shattered jaw and heard the horrid scream’s coming from the man behind him as his soul was harvested.

  He stalked toward the dazed man holding his crushed jaw as blood dripped through his fingers. The brute saw Lucian coming and tried to stand, but fell backwards. Lucian pulled the Culdoran dagger free and was about to finish the man when something hit him hard in the chest, sending him stumbling back several feet. When he looked up he nearly lost his breath. Higher up the mountain stood many more thugs, at least thirty. Scattered all around them were more of the dark, evil figures. Several men stood swinging large slings. He realized then what had hit him. With the slings they could hurl large rocks at him traveling faster than an arrow even. They must have realized that no projectile could pierce his armor so they changed their methods.

  He scanned the men and saw that nearly half of them were gnashing their teeth and frothing at the mouth. Their eyes held that shadowed look of the possessed. He had not feared the five men, but thirty was something else. He doubted he could best so many. He thought to run but was surrounded and quickly dismissed that idea as folly. He had a better chance of avoiding the heavy slung rocks if he were ready for them and not running. But what options did he have, was this the end? He closed his eyes and let the knowledge Ijon had passed on to him flood his thoughts. When he opened them, time seemed to slow as he played out every possible enemy approach and attack.

  "No," he said aloud. "This is not the end."

  Just as he said it, a whisper echoed in the back of his mind.

  Unleash Drovenalor.

  He looked over at Grey, the fallen horse that his mighty weapon was latched on to. The horse lay behind the man with the shattered jaw that was now standing up, finally coming out of his daze.

  Unleash Drovenalor.

  The whisper was louder now, spurring Lucian into action. He charged forward with amazing speed. The brute with the shattered jaw could offer no defense other than throwing up his arms to try and catch Lucian's hands as they reached in at him, but he was too slow. Lucian grabbed hold of the brute’s head and jerked it around backwards. He was already diving through the air as the dead man's body hit the ground. Two rocks sliced through the air, just missing him as he landed on the other side of Grey. He knew exactly where the blade was and he immediately rolled forward, pulling the scabbard free as he came to his feet.

  Another stone whistled in at his head but he brought his gauntlet up, easily deflecting the stone. The impact stung his arm but he was too enraged to care. He could feel the holy wrath surging through him as he reached down for the hilt of his sword. The grip of the magnificent weapon immediately formed to his hand and he pulled it free. Instead of hearing the beautiful song of the enchanted blade coming free of the scabbard, he heard only the loud, horrifying screams of many men. He could see the dark figures all around him covering their eyes while they vanished, or backed away, dissolving into a black mist. The men that were possessed were writhing on the ground, raking at their faces, gouging out their eyes. The other men had all fallen back and were shielding their faces.

  Lucian was th
understruck. Drovenalor was aglow like a white hot cinder. He looked out at the men covering their eyes and wondered why the light did not bother his. Some of the cutthroats started to run away. With the threat lessened he could feel his righteous fury fading and with it, the glow of the sword. He saw the dark figures, the ones he had heard his ancestors call Skryxies, screaming at the men to stay and fight. The holy wrath inside him flared anew and the blade ignited again, burning even brighter, causing the Skryxies to screech and vanish in a dark cloud of smoke.

  Lucian slammed the sword back into the scabbard, extinguishing the light and slung the baldric over his shoulder to let the sword rest on his back. Now that the intense light was gone, the men looked around at their fallen comrades with their torn faces. Some of them even vomited at the sight. They looked hesitantly at Lucian who stood calmly and cocked his head.

  "I would offer you men to leave this place if you wish to live, but I know that you would only return to Thaluzont’s army and visit more evil upon the world."

  The savages looked to each other, none of them knowing what they should do. Several of the dark robed creatures appeared near one of the men, the largest of them all, and began whispering to him, filling his ears with deceit. Lucian saw this and directed his attention to that man.

  "If you choose to abandon your evil ways and side with me against Thaluzont, then I will spare your lives. It is not too late to do what is right." He hoped he might win the battle of influence over the man.

  One of the dark figures turned its head to look at Lucian and he thought he saw a smile form on the deeply shadowed face.

  "You," the large brute said, pointing to Lucian, "are going to defeat all of us?" He threw his head back and laughed. "One against fifteen?” he asked in feigned shock. “I think that you may be fighting on the wrong side my friend."

  The other men were laughing with the big one now, they were all feeding off his confidence and Lucian could see that they would not be running away. He had held a fleeting hope to convert them, but now they must die.

  "Very well, then you leave me no choice. You have chosen your path, now you will have to face your judgment," said Lucian, as he rested his hand on the hilt of the mighty Drovenalor.

  Some of the men's eyes followed his hand and stepped back cautiously, fearing what might happen if he pulled the blade free again but the large man charged forward screaming and waving his heavy spiked mace around in circles over his head. The others saw this and rallied to him, charging down the slope as well.

  Lucian stood calmly, waiting, watching every twitch, every muscle, and every shifting eye. He was anticipating every action, every possible angle of attack, and planning out his movements ahead of time. The large man predictably came in first. He brought the heavy mace forward in a crushing blow and Lucian quickly side stepped, easily avoiding the strike, and out came Drovenalor. The crystalline blade held no glow for Lucian was consciously subduing his wrath, but none the less, the magnificent blade cut through the shaft of the mace, just under the head, as if it hit nothing at all. The spiked ball of the mace flew through the air and struck deep into the face of another attacker. His body convulsed as it hit the ground.

  The large man stared at his useless weapon in shock and turned to run, suddenly abandoning all hope that the evil voices had implanted in him, but Lucian offered no retreat. Drovenalor came down fast, cleaving through armor, flesh and bone, cutting the man from shoulder to hip. But that did not stop the others from coming on. They were in a blood rage now and thought they had the advantage. Lucian moved with fluid grace. His every strike was precise and deadly. He would slip to the side, avoiding a thrust or slice and strike down two other men in the process. He wasted no time in defense, his blade never touching another attacker’s weapon unless it was to cut through it and continue on into its wielder.

  Some of the men would cut each other down trying so desperately to hit him. Lucian maneuvered so that they would fall into position just as he wanted and then he would chop them down. Not one man needed to be hit more than once, each thrust or slice was lethal. Lucian rolled away from two men swinging their blades wildly to try and at least nick his armor. He came up in front of three others who were put off balance by the deft maneuver. At the right moment, when all five men were close enough, Lucian spun low, sweeping Drovenalor around in a wide loop. He circled around completely and stopped, still holding the sword out to his side, parallel to the ground. The five men all toppled to the ground, their upper bodies splitting away from the lower as they fell.

  Lucian stood up and looked around. Nearly two dozen men were lying dead in a cluster around him. He looked at Drovenalor, astonished. Not a single drop of blood stained the perfect crystalline blade. He was starting to understand the power that it held and how to harness it. Looking around at all the dead bodies, the significance of what he had just done hit him like a battle hammer to the chest and he dropped to his knees.

  "Father, forgive me. Please tell me that I did what must be done and that which is right and just by you and not by my own desire."

  Suddenly there was a concussion of wind that shook the ground around the area where he had battled. It grew so dark and quiet that it seemed as if the very light and sound had been sucked from all around him, leaving only a motionless void. It was a darkness the likes of which he had never experienced. Suddenly there came the most horrific, piercing sound that he had ever heard. It was the screams of all the souls of his attackers as they were being ripped from their bodies and dragged to the abyss. Lucian covered his ears, trying to shield them from the terrible cries, but he could not block them out. A dark figure appeared in front of him and he wanted to pull Drovenalor free but found that he could not move. He could sense that this being was the purest of evil. It spoke no words but the smile on its face seemed to be one of gratitude, as if it were thanking Lucian, thanking him for the souls. The moment struck him deeply. He felt vile, as though he was inadvertently aiding the dark powers. And then, all at once, it was over and the evil being was gone along with the all-consuming darkness.

  Although the day was at its end and it had grown dark, every star seemed to glow brighter than ever. The small creek below sounded like a raging river. After being in the absence of sound and light, everything seemed so much more intense, so very much alive. It was then that Lucian realized what he had done was right and just. Those men were tools of evil and he was the weapon which was to be used against them. Since he was a child, he despised wickedness and had dreamed of fighting the Skryxies, but never did he imagine that one day he would be doing just that. Maybe he was still dreaming and none of this was real. Maybe he was still in Yavasura and had never gone to all those places, had never met Tarriel, Solomon...Kara.

  His head snapped up. Kara, the name he knew Kyrianna by, sent a flood of emotions screaming through his mind. No, this was not a dream and he was wasting valuable time. A clopping of hooves made him spin around. He smiled widely as he ran over to Thunder, who was looking around nervously at the mayhem of the battlefield, unsure if it was safe. Lucian stroked the horse’s muscular neck and spoke softly to him, calming his nerves and relaxing his tensed muscles. When he felt Thunder was ready, he climbed up onto the saddle.

  "Come on boy! We must make haste to Vorea. Our friends need us."

  It was as if the powerful steed understood his sentiments. He hadn’t even squeezed his heels in when Thunder burst forth into a full run, streaking ahead with such power that it was all Lucian could do to just hold on. They rounded the base of the mountain and Vorea came into view. Lucian had never seen Vorea, only heard of its splendor, but what he saw now terrified him. The night sky along the northern part of the city was ablaze and billows of smoke rose high into the air. Lucian's eyes ignited as he leaned forward in the saddle, urging the powerful warhorse on.

  The Siege

  The scene inside Vorea looked to be chaotic, but everyone had a job and was doing it with practiced expertise. Suppliers rushed back and forth
to the war machines and archers that they were assigned too, making sure everything had an abundant supply of arrows and bolts. The Vorean army with its Culdoran compliment, stood outside the city, formed up along the walls. Thousands of archers, mostly female, lined the top of those walls which stood nearly one hundred feet tall and twelve feet thick. Each warrior stood calmly, staring ahead at the enormous enemy army, waiting, listening to the slow rhythmic beat of their drums. Kyrianna stood with Eliath atop the wall. She would lead the archers while Commander Nenghao worked with Solomon to coordinate the maneuvers of the army. Tarriel had refused to stay back behind the ranks and was marching off to join her five hundred warriors.

  "But should you not stay back here with us so that we might work together on coordinating our soldiers movements?" asked Nenghao of Tarriel as she walked off.

  Tarriel turned and gave him a funny look. "I prefer to lead my warriors from the front line. It is how my people have always fought and what they expect."

  Nenghao nodded respectfully. "There is great honor in this. But if you fall in battle, who then will lead your warriors?"

  Tarriel smiled wickedly at him. "Death in battle is a great honor among my people, we do not fear it. If I die in battle, then my warriors will know that it was a good death and they will rally together. Culdorans work together as a whole, no one person is responsible for our tactics. If I fall, dozens more will step up to take my place and lead the others. It is not to say that I discredit your way of war, it has been proven most effective. However, this is simply the way that we have fought for generations and it has worked well for us."