Lassendil, Gywna and Taz, fought their way up the corridor with the three wizards close behind them. Adelyis watched in awe as her brother moved with the grace of a dancer, cutting down any Morg who stepped into the arc of his sword. Lassendil’s agility had always meant he was a gifted swordsman whereas Taz’s fighting style was far more brutal. The Morg fell back under the Gremul’s rage.
Entranced, Adelyis watched Gywna fight. The girl, whose sullen presence had grated on Adelyis since meeting in the dungeons, was transformed. The sword she wielded glowed with energy and its radiance permeated her entire body. She and the Wraith Sword moved as one—it was difficult to tell where the sword ended and Gywna’s arms began. Adelyis had heard of the Guardians of Isador but, not being Orinian, she had dismissed the legends about their magical powers and the sacred flame they guarded as romanticized folklore.
Gywna Brin was the last of her kind and, seeing the incredible energy brought together by her fusion with the sword, Adelyis realized that a great untapped reserve of magic stood at the brink of being lost forever.
The company made slow progress down the corridor. The throng of Morg became denser, the closer they moved to the entrance of the Lord’s Tower.
Morgarth Evictar was making sure no one disturbed him.
Lassendil’s arms burned from exertion as he fought. He had to concentrate completely for he knew one slip, one side-ways glance to see how his companions fared, and a blade would slip past his guard and gut him. The Morg were still formidable swordsmen. He remembered that well from past skirmishes with them. They were relentless, even physically suffering as they were; and although they were less coordinated in their movements than Lassendil remembered, this did not seem to hinder them. They seemed to care nothing for their own mortality.
Lassendil was well aware that without Gywna they would not have been able to fend off such a vicious attack. Even the Gremul was tiring under the onslaught but the girl fought on as if the attacking Morg fed rather than drained her.
The colonnaded entrance to the Lord’s Tower loomed ahead of them, guarded by a seething mass of caped figures and a terrible visage that appeared behind them.
The second Tunnel Wight.
The creature opened its rotting maw and screamed. The sound made Lassendil feel as if icicles were trailing down his spine. Its eyes, sunken orbs, fixed on him and it pushed its way forward through the heaving throng of Morg towards him.
“Gywna!” Lassendil shouted. “To me!”
Arridel had warned that weapons, such as the long Ennadil blade Lassendil carried, were useless on such a magical fiend. Lassendil defended himself from the swipe of curved sword blade and ducked as a mace swung past his right ear.
Two more paces and the Tunnel Wight would be on him. It reached out its ragged claws towards his face. Lassendil slashed at it but his blade bounced off its grasping arms. The Ennadil threw himself back against the wall and watched as a bright silver blade pierced the Tunnel Wight through the heart.
The Wight gave an ear-splitting wail and collapsed at Gywna’s feet, just inches away from rending Lassendil’s face. He jumped backwards to avoid touching its corpse. Before him, the Tunnel Wight disintegrated.
Lassendil straightened up to find the corridor littered with Morg corpses, and no more alive. His five companions stood panting around him. Their faces glowed with sweat and their eyes were wild with battle rage.
Adelyis had a deep scratch across her left cheek, Jennadil’s shoulder was bleeding and Arridel had a large purple bruise coming up around his right eye. Lassendil himself had been clipped across the thigh. The wound was not deep but he could feel warm blood trickling down the front of his leg. Only Taz, protected by his thick pelt, and Gywna, were unharmed.
Gywna stood, her sword lowered for the moment. She stared around her in amazement, as if looking upon the world for the first time. Her face was flushed, her eyes alive. Gywna’s merging with the sword had changed her. Gone was the sullen frown which had marred her expression, and instead a striking young woman stood before him. Looking upon her, Lassendil was spellbound—and he may have gone on staring for a while, if shouts and the tattoo of running booted feet had not knocked him from his reverie.
They would not be alone in the corridor for much longer.
The six companions exchanged glances, knowing what now lay ahead. They ran through the colonnaded entranceway into the Lord’s Tower and, once inside, pulled the heavy door closed behind them and barred it securely. Then, led by Lassendil with Taz as rear-guard, they climbed the spiral stairwell to Morgarth Evictar’s lair.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
END OF THE WORLD
Will Stellan had never thought of silence having as a noise in itself, but the stillness inside the Lord’s Tower roared in his ears as loud as waves crashing on rocks. A long night had passed since Morgarth Evictar had finished tormenting him. Since then the Warlock had mercifully left him alone. For hours now, Evictar had stood immobile at the window in a meditative state. The Warlock was so still he appeared hewn from marble.
Will’s wounds throbbed continually now and he shivered in the chill. He was afraid that if he shut his eyes, the pain coursing through him might carry him away and he would lose consciousness. To distract himself, Will let his gaze roam the interior of the chamber in which he lay.
What once had been the City-Lord’s inner sanctum was an impressive chamber. Will had only been inside it a handful of times and when he had, Theo Brin had always taken all of his attention. Sumptuous tapestries woven with silk and threaded with gold, carved wooden screens, and busts of past City-Lords stared back at Will from the walls. Vast circular columns reached up to a high, flat ceiling depicting the sun, moon and stars, and intricately painted frescoes framed the ceiling. There were images of victorious warriors atop galloping steeds, paintings of maidens dressed in blue—the Guardians of Isador—kneeling before the sacred flame, and images of the ceremony in which the City-Lord swore to protect this city-state and its great fortress with his life.
Will felt a sting of bitterness as he looked up at this last image. Theo Brin had not protected Serranguard with his life. He had fled like a whipped dog.
At the far end of the space there was a wooden door which, Will knew, led up to the tower’s flat roof. It was on that roof, on a balmy evening over a year ago that Will had met Adelyis’s brother, Lassendil Florin—an evening that had been a catalyst for a catastrophic series of events.
In contrast to the Scholar’s Tower, where the walls of each chamber were carpeted floor to ceiling with books, the walls of the Lord’s Tower were sumptuous almost to the point of vulgarity. Only one wall was adorned with a small bookcase, and the cupboard where Evictar had shown him the books he had secreted from Serranguard’s library. A carved oak desk and chair sat to the right of the window. The window itself was enormous and teardrop shaped.
A sickly light filtered into the chamber through the window. The chill in this chamber had seeped into the very marrow of his bones. Will ached all over. He felt dangerously sleepy and light-headed; on the verge of lapsing into unconsciousness.
At length Will felt his gaze reluctantly drawn back to Morgarth Evictar. The Warlock was waiting for something—a sign perhaps—or maybe he was using his powers to see how the attack on Falcon’s Mount was progressing. Will was still looking at the silent, cloaked form when Morgarth Evictar whirled from the window and threw back the cowl covering his face. His face twisted in a horrid grin of triumph and his pink eyes narrowed into evil slits.
“They have come,” he hissed. “They are here now. We have only to invite them in!”
Will cringed back against the wall. He was a brave man but his very soul felt flattened in Evictar’s cruel presence. Seconds later, Will heard the soft thud of footsteps approaching up the stairwell. It was not the sound of approaching Morg; he could hear the Morg leagues off with the heavy boots they wore. Rather, it was the sound
of men.
Will’s heart simultaneously sunk and surged—for as happy as he would be to see Adelyis and Taz again they were walking into a trap. He opened his mouth to shout out a warning but Morgarth Evictar silenced him with a flick of his fingers that choked his voice in his throat. The Warlock then reached out one long arm. White fire shot forth from his outstretched palm and the door blew off its hinges, shattering against the wall.
Will brought up his manacled hands to protect himself from flying shards of wood. Once the dust and debris cleared, he was startled to see not two but six individuals on the other side of the doorway.
To his great surprise, he recognized five of them—Adelyis and Taz were accompanied by Jennadil Silverstern and Arridel Thorne. Although he had only met him once, Will also recognized Lassendil Florin on sight. Only the sixth individual, a pretty, young Orinian woman, was a stranger to him.
Will saw their gazes sweep across the chamber, fixing on him before their attention was held captive by the menacing figure that stood in the room’s center. Will heard their indrawn breaths and tasted their horror. He understood their reaction; Adelyis had described the Warlock to him but he had been unprepared to deal with the evil that permeated the very air he breathed in Evictar’s presence. The air around the Warlock hummed with the immense power he held in check.
Will’s gaze met that of his friend, Jennadil Silverstern. It was little over a year since they had said goodbye in Serranguard’s dungeons. He had never expected to see him again. So much had happened since their parting and the past year had obviously taken its toll on the wizard as well for he appeared altered. Jennadil’s handsome face was strained and careworn and there was an intensity to him that had been missing before. Will saw the concern in Jennadil’s eyes when the wizard returned his gaze. He knew he must look at death’s door.
Will’s gaze shifted across to Adelyis. She stared back at him, her blue eyes hard with determination.
“What do we have here?” Morgarth Evictar’s wicked laughter echoed around the chamber. “Three ragged wizards and their body guards? What an unexpected pleasure.” The Warlock took a few steps backward; his black-claw tipped fingers beckoned the company inside.
Will could see every one of them struggling to control their repulsion. Even though they tried to hold their emotions in check, their fear was painfully transparent. Will felt a sense of impending doom. What were they doing here? Will found his voice at last.
“Run!” he croaked. “Get out while you can!”
The Warlock laughed again, and the sound reverberated off the chamber’s walls, mocking him.
“Good advice Captain Stellan,” Evictar’s voice slid across the room, “but it has come too late for your foolhardy friends here. I have need for more slaves to do my bidding and three wizards will serve me well.” Evictar raised his arms to cast a spell.
“Shield!” Arridel shouted at the other wizards. His voice was surprisingly strong and unwavering despite that his face was bloodless with fear.
The group moved so swiftly, it was clear they had planned this moment.
Lassendil Florin, the young woman and Taz ducked behind the wizards as Arridel, Adelyis and Jennadil brought up their staffs. Three bursts of energy, blue, green and red flashed together and created a protective bubble around the group, protecting them just in time as white-hot tongue of fire from Morgarth Evictar’s finger tips exploded towards them.
Using his free hand, Arridel Thorne pulled out the stone he wore around his neck.
Bruarn, the Earth Stone, gleamed in the murky light. Jennadil and Adelyis followed suit. Arkaheth, the Water Stone and Didliar the Air Stone shone like precious gems on Jennadil and Adelyis’s outstretched palms.
“Earth, water and air. The Power of Three we call upon you!” Arridel shouted. “Merge our energies to fight the evil before us!”
“Bruarn, Arkaheth and Didlier!” Jennadil and Adelyis’s voices joined Arridel’s this time. The stones on their outstretched palms started to glow palely, lit by a warming energy from within.
Morgarth Evictar’s attack ricocheted off the wizards’ shield and hit the wall above where Will Stellan lay trussed up in chains. Fire hit the wall, shearing a huge hole through it. Rubble and dust rained over Will, who shouted out and curled up in a ball, bringing up his hands to protect his skull.
The Warlock’s expression turned from victorious to thunderous. There was no fear or apprehension on his eyes, only pure fury.
Peering from behind Arridel Thorne, Gywna Brin watched Morgarth Evictar’s rising anger. He recognized the spell the wizards were shouting out in chorus. Despite her newfound courage, Gywna felt sick with terror. She fought the urge to turn and sprint from the Tower—not that there was anywhere to run. Although they had bolted the door at the bottom of the stairwell, it would not take the Morg long to break through it and come to their master’s aid.
Morgarth Evictar’s face twisted from anger into killing rage. “Margeethra!” he shouted and thrust his hands towards the three wizards.
The world stopped.
Hollow silence reverberated around them and then the very air split apart. Gywna knew one moment of all consuming horror before she was lifted off the ground and flung backwards.
The top of the tower exploded like an erupting volcano. The protective shield shattered and the wizards tumbled to the floor. Debris pelted them and thick, stinging dust seared their lungs.
Gywna was convinced that the end of the world had come. Tears streaked her face as she clung to the edge of the doorway and waited for Morgarth Evictar to finish them off.
The Warlock grew to appear twice as tall. He towered above them in the center of what was left of the tower; all-encompassing in his wrath. Above him, clouds swirled where the ceiling had once been. The wall behind Will Stellan’s prostrate form had nearly been blown away completely.
Morgarth Evictar’s mouth was an open sore. His eyes were now fiery orbs, flickering and glowing in the sudden gloom. His anger had metamorphosed into something more terrifying. He looked down upon them, savoring their mute fear and reveling in his absolute power.
Arridel Thorne staggered to his feet. He turned to Jennadil and Adelyis who were still on the ground. Lassendil had been knocked into the corner where Will Stellan lay and Taz and Gywna were scrunched against the doorway. All of them were bruised, bleeding and barely clinging to their courage.
“Get up!” Arridel snarled at Jennadil and Adelyis. “We’re not beaten yet. Get up!”
The older wizard’s harsh words cut through Jennadil and Adelyis’s shock and fear. Shaking, they clambered to their feet. Arridel outstretched his hand revealing Bruarn. The others followed suit.
“Bruarn, Arkaheth, Didliar!” the three wizards chorused. “Bring down the dark, bring back the light, merge earth, water and air and evil fight! Open the void, remove this malice from our world, bring forth fire and purge!”
The air atop the tower changed once more. A violent wind began and beyond the gaping hole left by the missing roof, a great swirling vortex appeared.
The Warlock sent forth a whip of fire from his fingertips. It curled around the wizards, and would have pulled them off their feet if Adelyis had not sent forth a counter spell. Flames exploded between them—and the distraction was all the wizards needed to finish their spell. Their voices rose, strong and loud now. Determination surged through them, overcoming their fear.
“Bruarn, Arkaheth and Didliar—take this evil being from our midst! Give birth to Star Fire—bring forth the power of Earth, Water and Mist!”
Three streams of cold, silver fire shot out of the stones and merged with a blast of searing light. The fire swelled into a large ball, like a newborn star. In unison, the three wizards flicked their fingers forward and released the fireball.
It shot across the chamber and hit Morgarth Evictar in the chest.
The Warlock staggered backwards. A ring of flames curled around his body an
d lifted him off the ground. The wizards pushed him back towards the swirling vortex.
Morgarth Evictar’s roar splintered the air. Serranguard shook with the force of the Warlock’s anger. It was as if they were holding the power of an entire ocean and sky in check. The wizards clung together for support; sweat trickled down their faces with the effort it took to keep the spell working.
“Air, Water and Earth—merge and toil. Send this foul creature into the Void!”
The Warlock lifted higher off the ground. His voluminous black cape billowed around him as the vortex drew him towards it.
In an effort not to be sucked into the void, Lassendil grabbed hold of the unconscious Will Stellan, who was chained to the ground.
“Mortals!” Morgarth Evictar’s voice thundered overhead. “You can’t destroy me!”
Despite his words however, the Warlock was still trapped in the ring of fire and it was only when the combined strength of the three wizards pushed him to the very edge of the vortex that panic started to show on his face. He struggled violently against the fire that had wrapped itself around him like a choking vine. Eventually he got an arm free and with a shout of triumph, stretched his grasping claw out towards the wizards. Already, his feet were being sucked into the vortex. Within moments, the void would have him.
“You’re all coming with me!” he screamed.
A wall of energy hit Arridel, Jennadil and Adelyis like the back of a great invisible hand.
The stones scattered and the Power of Three disintegrated. Jennadil flew backwards and collided with the wall. He crumpled to the ground, only to be grabbed by a pair of sinewy hands. Taz had reached round from his and Gywna’s hiding place on the other-side of the door and grabbed the unconscious wizard. Just in time—for at that moment, anything not fastened down was sucked towards the vortex.
Adelyis screamed and grabbed hold of Jennadil’s legs. The vacuum ripped Adelyis’s staff from her grasp. It disappeared into the great swirling maw above her.
“Arridel! Hold on to me!” she shouted.
The Children of Isador Page 26