by Chloe Hodge
Wezlan caught sight of Ashalea and Denavar, and beckoned them over, ignoring their baffled expressions. “King Tiderion’s forces just arrived. His commanders occupy four stations of equal troops around the Academy. Their lines will join our ranks when the fight begins.” He glanced warily at the endless stream of monsters. “Our number now stands around five thousand. The Onyxonites are yet to arrive but Shara and Flynn are with them.”
“Is she ready for this?” Ashalea asked.
“None of us are. We are here all the same.” Wezlan glanced at Denavar. “I want you to lead with the elemental users. You are my most skilled mage. Your abilities are worthy of a wizard, son, see you use them well.”
Denavar’s eyes widened, but he nodded affirmation. The man and elf grasped hands together with a quick clap on the back. Denavar planted a kiss on Ashalea’s cheek and looked at her long and hard before running off on limber limbs. No words were necessary. What needed to be said was already known.
Wezlan refocused his attention and held his ward’s shoulders, smiling. “Ashalea, my girl, I don’t suppose I can ask you to step away from this fight?”
She grinned. “And let you have all the fun?” She snorted. “Not a chance.”
He wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “I thought you’d say that.” He jerked his head at the first ranking soldiers. “With them, they will need your fighting spirit.”
She gave him a squeeze. “Don’t struggle too much without me old man.”
“Ashalea!” He whispered. “Give ‘em hell.”
She winked and disappeared through the lines.
A horn bellowed an eerie greeting, demanding a halt to all proceedings, and the darkness floated out of the portal in utter silence. All eyes followed the swirling tendrils as he approached the halfway mark between both armies. His steel-grey eyes glinted, and he morphed into a somewhat human form, the shadows too dense to see anything but his eyes.
Those glinting, malicious eyes. Ashalea remembered them well, red or grey. She would never forget.
“I come here not as your enemy but as a man with a proposition. Give me the silver haired elf and control of the mages, and no blood will be shed today. What say you?”
Wezlan amplified his voice, roaring like an angry clap of thunder. “You are a fool to think we would bow down to you. Go back to the depthless pits whence I sent you.”
The darkness cackled, and a few whimpers broke out among the ranks. “I suppose I’m not being clear enough. Very well, how about I sweeten the deal? Anyone who refuses to join me will be killed. Brutally. As you can see, my army hasn’t tasted flesh and blood for some time. They’re hungry.” The eyes flashed with malice and the beasts yipped and growled their response.
Some mages exchanged panicked glances and murmured discord swept down the line. Several men and women took a tentative step forward.
“Get back in line,” Wezlan spat. “We gave an oath to guard Renlock with our lives. You made your choice to stay, so stand on the right side.”
They jumped back. The darkness narrowed its eyes and phased into the monster it was. Any glimpse of humanity disappeared, replaced with red eyes and long black arms with clawed tips. It rasped as it sucked in all the fear and panic from the mages. It lifted its arms skyward and hissed.
The creatures sprinted across the field with unnatural speed and several winged beasts took flight, birds of prey spying their next victims. The call had been given. The battle had begun.
Wezlan turned to the army. “This is it! Fight! Fight for survival. Fight for freedom! Fight for light and the order of Renlock!”
Cheers and whoops surfed the crowd, and the soldiers readied for battle. Arrows flew from the ramparts, their range extended through small portals that would pop up and just as soon disappear across the field. They made their marks long before the creatures ploughed into the army, several monsters falling along the way.
The beasts fell upon the spikes, uncaring and unflinching, driven by nothing but the smell of fear in the air and the promise of blood. Their mangy forms filled the hollowed earth, piling until the spikes were all but covered, and a bridge of bodies was erected.
And then it really began. Steel rang out and the roars of human and beast alike bellowed into one. Ashalea led the charge with a battle cry fit for ten armies. She slid under legs and sidestepped swipes, carving bloody bodies everywhere she went. Where claws raked and rendered, swords slashed and stabbed.
Elemental globes soared through the air like fireworks, brilliant and deadly with explosive intent. Fireballs seared the hides of furry, snapping beasts, and electricity stunned the birdlike creatures as they plucked soldiers from the crowd, snapping them in two or dropping them from great heights.
Ashalea cast her eyes towards Denavar and sighed in relief to find he was more than equipped for the onslaught of monsters. His arms moved in a flurry as he hurled searing fireballs one after another, their light the same hue as Farah’s flaming hair beside him. The pair made quite a team and covered each other’s backs as they spun and swirled.
It was a battlefield of chaos and confusion. Bodies dropped on both sides, wide eyes of young and old alike, lifeless and staring in their final moments. Where humans fell, monsters would feed, plucking organs from inside out, ripping into flesh as easily as tearing parchment. Ashalea sliced as many of their heads off before they could swallow.
She roared with adrenaline and her scimitar stretched in perfect harmony with her body. It was no longer a weapon, but an extension of her arm as she swirled gracefully through the creatures. All the pain and built-up tension disappeared as she thought of nothing but the direction of her slice, the stance of her body, the wideness of her feet.
Then the battle shifted as creatures gathered in neat lines again. Elite soldiers stepped forth from the crackling bubble, the darkness concentrating intensely from his invisible perch in the sky as he worked to keep the portal open. The Uulakh. They snarled and hissed, snapping their jaws together, their forked tongues tasting the air. Scaly hides reflected the light, their yellow eyes narrowed to slits. They stood taller than a man and moved much quicker.
“Damn,” Ashalea cursed. Things were about to get more complicated.
They broke into sections and took command of the creatures, immediately directing them to gaps in the mage army. A single slash of their arm and several mages would fall. Some even took to the ground, slithering as a snake until their bodies uncoiled and they beheaded men and women from the air. At this rate, it was a losing battle.
Ashalea searched the crowd for Denavar, her keen eyes spotting him some distance away, hurling fireballs at a group of furred beasts.
“Denavar!” She called over the masses. His head popped up and somehow, his eyes met hers. She pointed to the reptilian fiends. “Take out the Uulakh! Take them out!”
He grinned wickedly and began relaying the order through the lines. Then he whirled back to Ashalea, throwing a ball of lightning an impossibly long distance right at her. She dodged just as it fell squarely on a creature behind her, its body crisped and overdone, eyes popping as it dropped dead.
Shock flashed over her features and she returned the grin, mouthing a “thanks”.
The elemental mages redoubled their efforts on the Uulakh, but the Magicka seemed to dissipate into their skin. Ashalea cursed again, ducking just as a winged creature flew at her head. She volleyed relentless lightning into the sky, and it careened into the earth, its wings fried to ash.
Her eyes scanned the ramparts above, and she waved her scimitar in the air, sealing the blade with a golden glow. “Archers! Target the reptiles! Aim for their heads!”
The man with the long braid caught her gaze and nodded, and where Magicka failed, steel did not. The archers volleyed their arrows flight after flight, aiming dead on the elites and using portals where their targets were out of reach.
Many of the Uulakh fell, but some struggled back to their feet, swinging swords and clubs in a crazed state of adrenaline. S
tubborn things, aren’t you? Ashalea picked through the wounded, grunting with effort as she lopped off their heads, tongues still hissing as they flew into the crowd.
It just seemed like the tide was turning in their favour when another creature escaped from the portal. A final fiend before the darkness exerted all his energy and flickered out of sight. It was enormous, plunging the armies into shadow under its bulk.
Ashalea knew this one all too well. A Wyrm-weir. She grated her teeth together. Apparently, some could travel on land as well as water. Just great. She made ready to launch when a war cry sounded from the opposite end of the ground. She grinned. The Onyxonites were here.
A troop of black clad warriors descended upon the horde, practiced swords making short work of the creatures. Where one man fell, another filled his place. They were dancers to an epic ballad, their bodies the sweet sounds of victory, their steel the wrath of unsung heroes. When the birds launched, they were met with shurikens in their eyes, when the snake creatures poised to strike, their heads were removed from their bodies.
In the throes of violence, two warriors moved in perfect unison to each other, protecting one’s back or vaulting over the other to strike. The woman moved with a swift certainty that Ashalea recognised immediately. Shara, and her brother Flynn. If there wasn’t a giant Wyrm-weir wreaking havoc, Ashalea might have watched them forever, but now was the time to rally.
She whooped in exaltation and her fierceness was met with an echo of battle cries and shouts. Shara caught her eyes and grinned devilishly. “Onyxonites, with me!” The black-clad army bolstered around the twins, forming a square to trap the creatures within.
Ashalea’s boots flew through red waters and she launched high into the air, clutching the Wyrm-weir’s neck as she took a scimitar to leathery skin. It barely left a scratch. The creature screeched in anger and thumped its body to the ground. She barely managed to dive off when it began rolling through the masses, crushing soldiers of both armies in its rage. Screams filled the air as men were flattened.
Ashalea seethed with frustration as arrows and spears clattered uselessly against its skin. Its beady eyes regarded them angrily, and it lurched out at anyone who ventured to close. Even the Onyxonites were no match for this. She gazed at its black orbs and saw the answer.
“Eyes!” She yelled at the soldiers. “Go for the eyes!” She waved at the ramparts and tried to signal her meaning.
Arrows showered upon its face and spears soared from afar. One arrow hit bullseye, and the Wyrm moaned in agony, tar like blood splattering from its orifice and dripping onto several soldiers. Flesh burned where it fell, and screams erupted, blood and bone bubbling from acidity. Bodies melted into a sickening slosh.
Their efforts weren’t enough. The Wyrm-weir attacked anything and anyone now, snatching creatures and humans alike, snapping its many rows of teeth. It continued to roll, its turbulent bulk crushing everything in its path.
The heavens opened, and rain wept giant teardrops on the havoc below. It gave Ashalea an idea, and she cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. She searched for Wezlan and Denavar and found them both swarmed by creatures, locked in a frenzy of staff and Magicka. There was no way she’d reach them. Her eyes found the Onyxonite twins.
“Shara,” she yelled, “help Wezlan and Denavar. I need their Magicka.”
The bronzed warrior nodded and charged to the rescue, the assassins who flanked her deadly as shadows in the light. They broke through the lines as easily as a broom sweeps through dirt, and within minutes Wezlan and Denavar were free to move again. They fought their way through, Wezlan sweeping his staff under the legs of creatures and smashing their skulls in, Denavar a flurry of sword and fire as they carved through.
They reached Ashalea’s side, panting from exertion, eyes wild from adrenaline. All around them their friends fought against the freakish; mud and blood marking the faces of all those who battled.
She thrust her jaw at the worm, blinking as rain spattered her face. “Remember our old friend? He might be missing his brother.” She clicked, and a few sparks jolted from her fingers.
Denavar laughed as he parried with a brutish creature with lopsided arms. It snarled as its blows were blocked, a dance of parry and lunge, riposte and twirl. With a flick of the wrist, Denavar locked the blade between his weapon and ran the length of his sword down its limb, slicing it clean off. The creature howled in pain.
Denavar grinned at Ashalea. “I’d say it’s an improvement, wouldn’t you?”
He stabbed it through the heart and turned to help Wezlan, but the wizard had downed three in the time it took Denavar to kill one.
Ashalea burst out laughing as Wezlan guffawed in amusement. Even amongst the blood and gore that littered the muddy field, even as she fought for her life, she felt alive. And she felt guilty for it. Countless mages were dead, but all she could register was the adrenaline coursing through her body. All she wanted was the chance to kill more creatures. She shook her head.
“Shara, think you can hit the other target?” She nodded towards the Wyrm-weir’s remaining eye.
Her friend smirked as she thrust her sword backwards into an approaching fiend. “Hardly a challenge.” Snatching a spear from the hand of a terrified mage, she turned in a full circle, gathering her strength, and let the weapon fly true. It gouged out the black bead with perfect aim.
The smug look filled Shara’s face and Ashalea laughed. Showoff.
Ashalea faced her comrades. “Wezlan, ready the gravita ball! Denavar, cast a protective shield over us. Now!”
Wezlan clasped hands with Ashalea and the Magicka came whirring into focus. It felt stronger than it had ever been, dizzyingly powerful as it electrified her veins. She let her mind make the connection to the power and brought it to the surface, feeling the hungry lash of power as it eagerly awaited to be set free.
Denavar was almost finished casting a protective shell over their group and the mages battling through the muddy slush close to the Wyrm-weir. A yellow glow formed over their bodies like armour. He panted as he worked, trying to cover as much ground as possible. As the last person was shielded, Ashalea and Wezlan glanced at each other.
“Thindarõs!”
Lightning burst from their fingertips and shot straight at the spear protruding from the Wyrm-weir’s eye. In seconds, its whole body was a live spark, the currents rolling over its wet skin with a sickening smell of burnt flesh. Its scream echoed across the battlefield, causing everyone to pause their fighting. With a last shudder, it plummeted to the ground, curled into a ball and let out one last sigh.
Cheers of triumph echoed across the ground and the mages began fighting with renewed vigour. Without the Wyrm-weir or the Uulakh to fall back on, the creatures were scattered and confused, the gap in their army growing larger by the second.
The army of Renlock was bolstered as King Tiderion’s elves came sprinting into the fray, having driven the enemies back from the western and eastern frontages. Their teal and coral armour glinted magnificently in the falling rain, the golden spears a flurry as they moved faster and more graceful than any of the mages.
The enemy began to break rank, monsters trying to retreat from the battle, squealing and squawking in disbelief. Elves and Onyxonites picked off the stragglers, allowing none to escape. Justice was sentenced. Vengeance was given. None of these foul beasts would survive.
Ashalea, Denavar, and Wezlan looked at each other, the same thought crossing all their minds.
“The portal.”
“Archers. Cover us,” Wezlan roared, amplifying his voice so the arches could hear through the rain.
The trio clasped hands, readying themselves for the final spell. Ashalea leant the mage and wizard all her power, ready to give them everything she had so they could close the portals for good. If they were successful, the Magicka used in this spell would trace the energies of not only this portal, but that of all others the darkness had opened. The Magicka would leech all dimensional powers an
d abilities from the darkness, rendering him unable to open a portal ever again.
The only issue was, a portal had to be active for the spell to be successful, meaning their only shot was when it was in-use, and consequently surrounded by creatures. The spell was tricky; each syllable had to be perfect and time was of the essence. Denavar and Wezlan took a deep breath, squeezed their eyes shut and began.
The voices merged into one, and they uttered the words of ancient power in unison. The ground rumbled beneath their feet and the air turned static as the current transferred between the three of them. Their voices rose to a boom, their words echoing over the steady pound of rain.
Arrow after arrow felled stray creatures before they could reach Ashalea, Denavar and Wezlan. A circle of bodies surrounded them, and still they pressed on.
Ashalea glanced at the portal and her breath halted as she realised the blue circle was beginning to fizzle, its frame crumbling under pressure and sputtering out in odd bursts. “Hurry! The darkness must be trying to close the portal before we finish. There’s not much time.”
She squeezed Denavar and Wezlan’s hand and prayed they would succeed, and as their voices could go no louder and the final words roared from their lips, the portal sucked inwards, and disappeared.
The mage and wizard opened their eyes, their breath returning to them in shuttering bursts. The flow of Magicka returned to its usual flow in their bodies, and the men stumbled to the ground in instant fatigue.
Ashalea looked from one face to another. “Did we do it? Did the spell work?” Neither one answered. She shook Denavar’s frame, but he would not meet her eyes. She knelt before Wezlan, taking his shoulders in her hands.
Grey eyes slowly met her green ones. Windows to sorrow and pain. One look was all she needed and suddenly, she knew.
They had failed.
“How can this be?” Ashalea uttered disbelievingly. “We were so close.”
Wezlan groaned as he stumbled to his feet. “The darkness severed the connection just before we finished the spell.” He gazed at her with a heavy heart. “I’m sorry, Ashalea.”