by Victor Kloss
All around him, his Spellswords and Wardens shook off their fatigue and injuries, and roared agreement.
If he had to die today, at least he would do so surrounded by people he felt proud of, fighting for what they believed in.
Raising his sword high, Zadaya turned towards the horde of dark elves just now breaching the intersection between this street and the wider ones back beyond.
“For the Institute!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, and his Wardens echoed the cry. “For Elizabeth!”
And he charged one final time into the fray.
The dark elves met them head on with a crash. These weren’t their strongest forces, but the numbers were on their side. Elves with long pikes pushed forwards, and Zadaya moved smoothly between two, hamstringing one and running the other through. He yanked his sword free and blocked a thrust that would have taken out a Spellsword to his right. They fought back to back, and their foes attacked and died. But taking down three times their number didn’t matter, as the elves just continued coming. Zadaya had a brief burst of hate for his dark cousins — so much needless killing for what? He threw himself into the fray again, attacking ferociously, until suddenly he realised he had gotten cut off from the remainder of his team. His fighting became desperate now, hacking and slashing back towards his own troops. He knew it was only a matter of time.
As he deflected another attack, just managing to keep the pike from his guts, Zadaya suddenly heard a deep, guttural roar. It came from somewhere nearby, the early morning fog making it difficult to see anyone at all. Wherever it was, it was getting closer.
Then a stocky, powerful figure burst from the fog, bellowing wordlessly as it slammed full-force into one of the dark elves, bowling the enemy warrior off his feet before cutting him down with a large, heavy, wicked-looking axe. Several more men and women emerged right behind him, each laying into the dark elves with vigour. Their clothing was not only tattered and torn but evidently singed, and many bore wounds, but they engulfed the dark elves like a wave falling upon the shore, sweeping over and through the shocked elves and flowing in to surround Zadaya and his men. Then the figure with the axe stepped forwards, and Zadaya gasped as he finally recognised the other’s sour expression and craggy features.
“Draven!” The Warden Director paused beside him, leaning on the haft of his axe. “Thank the stars!”
Draven offered up a tight, weary half-smile. “Glad you’re still here, Zad,” he replied. “I was afraid we’d have to head back empty-handed.” Up close, he could see that the senior Warden was covered in cuts, scrapes, bruises, and deep, nasty burns. In fact, much of the man’s face, chest, and arms were blackened from fire. What had the director gotten himself into?
“Still here, sir,” Zadaya confirmed. “It’s been rough, but seems like we’ve been having a tea party compared to your lot.”
“Hmm. I don’t know about that; you lads have done well.”
Draven let out a deep, wheezing sigh. “I—” But in the middle of speaking the Warden Director froze and then suddenly crumpled. Zadaya caught him before his head hit the ground. Draven felt heavy and unresponsive in his arms, his chest barely rising with each weak breath.
“The director is down!” Zadaya shouted. “We need to protect him - close ranks!”
At once his unit dropped everything else to surround the two of them. Carefully laying Draven on the ground out of harm’s way, Zadaya rose to his feet, but not before taking his superior’s spellshooter. There were still spells within it, and he knew the Warden Director would approve of his using them, especially if it might save both their lives. Fully armed once more, he joined his team. They all faced outwards, weapons up and ready, as the dark elves advanced once more. There were an awful lot of dark elves, but with the newly reinforced troops at his disposal it would be a far more even fight.
Zadaya found himself filled with hope. He wasn’t sure why, but he could sense that something had changed, and it wasn’t just the miraculous arrival of friends when they thought it was all over. He could see it on his dark cousins’ faces. Their steely confidence was breaking and even though he didn’t know why, Zadaya would use that vulnerability any way he could.
— Chapter Thirty-Six —
The High Council Revealed
Ben opened his eyes and tried to remember where he was. He ached from head to toe, and there was a dark round thing over him. Someone seemed to be almost lying on top of him, and he pushed weakly. Getting a bit of strength back, he pushed a bit harder and felt something large slide off the top of whatever was over his head. Some light shone through and lit a familiar face, and suddenly Ben remembered what had happened. Joshua had somehow managed to wedge the shield between them and the collapsing ceiling before they had both passed out.
“Josh. Josh!” He nudged the other boy and then shook him a bit.
Joshua groaned and opened his eyes. “What?” Suddenly, his gaze came into sharp focus. He looked around tensely and then relaxed. “It’s over, then?”
Ben just nodded numbly. He couldn’t believe it was over. Neither of them were glowing anymore, but he could see Joshua’s wound had closed up. He himself just felt horrible, but nothing beyond an intense ache in his muscles.
They climbed out of the space they had huddled in, now surrounded by rock and stone fragments of all sizes. They walked over to where they remembered Suktar’s body being and looked around. All the soldiers were either dead or gone, leaving the large space shattered and empty of life.
“Er, Ben, where’s the body?” Josh asked.
Ben was getting a little worried himself. “I’m sure it was here.”
They started searching around, Joshua muttering to himself. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Really, you’ve got to be kidding. I guess one of the dark elf soldiers took it; yeah, that must be it. Give him a proper burial and all that.”
Suddenly, Ben gave a shout of surprise. Joshua ran over immediately, and gave a cry himself. Together they gently pulled stone and rock away. Joshua leant down, carefully lifted Abigail and carried her over to a clean spot. She wasn’t moving. Tears welled up in Josh’s eyes, the unfairness of it all clearly hitting him hard. Ben felt a lump in his throat. He couldn’t stop wondering if there could have been any other way to have achieved what they had, any way to have Abigail still with them.
Suddenly, her eyes fluttered, and slowly opened. Ben stared in shock, hardly daring to hope. Abigail focused on them both, finally settling her glance on Joshua.
“Hello, boys.” She placed a hand on Joshua’s cheek and he let out a muffled sob.
Ben barked a near hysterical laugh. “How in the world…?” They both leaned in and gave her a huge hug.
When they’d settled down again, Joshua making the space as comfortable as possible for Abigail, she told them what had happened.
“I became one with the helm. It was the strangest feeling ever, but somehow I knew that if I was going to access the full power we needed, I had to let the helm take over completely. I became it, and it became invisible. I wanted to tell you both, but I had to use all my will just to stay focused and not lose myself.”
Ben glanced at Joshua, who looked as impressed as he felt. “Abigail, honestly, we had no chance without you. None at all.”
She beamed up at him.
Then he remembered what they had been doing before finding her. “Abigail, we thought we’d beaten Suktar — I mean, I was so sure.” He looked around again. “But his body—”
She cut him off. “Don’t worry, you did beat him. No one that powerful leaves much in the way of remains when they die. Their bodies are just a shell really, holding in all that magic. When Suktar passed away for real, it was all released out of him and then disappeared back into the earth. I felt it happen before the ceiling fell on me.” She smiled again.
Ben heaved a sigh of relief. He forced himself to stand up, dragging the sword with him, and then something grabbed his attention. The sword seemed different somehow. He held i
t out in front of him to look closer.
“Josh, pull out the shield, would you?”
Abigail also placed the helm next to them. Something was different. Somehow… as they watched, the weapons faded and then turned to dust. The dust began swirling together and in the middle a light formed. From outside, two streams of dust flew in and merged with the rest, more light coming together and then redistributing until it formed a vaguely humanoid shape.
The three friends stepped back a few paces, spellshooters at the ready.
The light intensified and then softened, leaving behind a relatively young-looking, but incredibly beautiful elf. Her hair was like spun silver, her eyes a piercing bright blue.
She looked at each of them in turn, then focused on Ben.
“Ben Greenwood.” When she spoke, her voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, and it had a softness like silk. She smiled and he felt his face flush. It wasn’t right that anyone could be that beautiful. “You have freed me.” She moved forwards gracefully, gliding over the floor like she was floating.
Ben tried to swallow, and briefly looked at his two friends, who wore identical looks of shock. “I’m not sure what you mean, miss, but if I’m not mistaken you were a piece of armour a minute ago. Before I totally freak out, a quick explanation would be splendid.”
She gave a musical laugh, and Ben almost rolled his eyes. Could there be anything about her that wasn’t, well, perfect?
“Yes, Ben, that’s what I mean. It was my power that the High Council used for the armour. Hundreds of years ago, they caught me unawares.” A flicker of something crossed her face, then was gone. “My awareness was split into five parts, and the only thing I knew was that I had to end one of them. In truth, any of the High Council would have worked, but they directed you to Suktar. He wasn’t part of the council itself anymore, but he still had the magic they had invested in him, so ultimately it worked the same. It was almost a perfect spell, actually. Killing Suktar would have returned my power to the High Council, keeping me enslaved to be used again.”
Ben was having trouble taking all this in. “Okaaaay, but I did kill him, and you’re… well, you don’t look very enslaved to me.”
She laid a gentle hand on his arm and he felt his face flush anew. “Indeed, my young hero, I’m not, and that is because you killed him, not I. You somehow pulled yourself out of the enchantment and made the decision yourself. An act such as this was the only way I could be free, and none of the High Council thought it would ever happen.”
That look came into her eyes again, and this time Ben did take a step back. He couldn’t let her beauty distract him — anyone that it took the entire High Council to enslave was not someone he cared to mess with.
“Well, er, you’re welcome.” He looked at Joshua, who was staring at the elf, and at Abigail, who was watching Joshua with an annoyed look on her face. Ben nudged him, and he blinked a few times before realising what he’d done and smiling sheepishly. Abigail sniffed loudly.
“Ben,” the elf stated. “Because of what you have done I am in your debt. The fact that you did it without intending to help me directly only makes the debt more powerful. If you need anything strongly enough in the future, you only have to come and ask. Come and find the Wilde and she will grant you what you need. For now, know that the High Council are not done here. Your friends still need you.”
She reached out to touch his spellshooter, which glowed and shifted as a familiar white energy flowed into it, a similar power to that seen in Elizabeth’s Armour. Ben looked at it in amazement. It had changed shape slightly, looking now like an ebony version of his original but more sleek, more elegant. It somehow looked a whole lot more deadly.
Smiling slightly, she began to fade, her soft whisper fading with her. “Find the Wilde, Ben, if you ever need help.”
And she was gone.
Ben let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. “That was by far the weirdest experience I’ve ever had, and honestly that’s saying a lot.”
Joshua came over to look at his spellshooter. “Mate, what did she do? I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’ve been pretty much obsessed with spellshooters my whole life.”
Abigail wasn’t quite so impressed. “Huh. You were both practically drooling. I didn’t know boys were so attracted to a suit of armour!”
Ben smiled as Joshua attempted to make excuses, each one lamer than the last. For a second he thought maybe Joshua and Abigail…. Shaking his head, he remembered what her last words were.
“Let’s go, guys,” he suggested. “It sounds like even though we’ve taken out the big bad guy, there are still other people fighting.”
Together they started jogging back the way they had come.
After a few minutes Ben ground to a halt and turned to Abigail. “I hope you remember the way because I’ll be honest, everything is a bit of a haze from between when we got into the palace and when I woke up twenty minutes ago.”
Thankfully Abigail still had a clear picture of the corridors in her mind.
“Follow me,” she instructed, and took off at a full run. Ben and Josh were right behind her, and none of them so much as paused as she took each twist, turn and intersection at top speed. It was eerily empty and quiet, until half an hour later they finally heard the sounds of fighting up ahead.
They all drew their spellshooters, Ben’s gleaming despite it being a deep black. As they rounded the corner they walked right into a scene of total destruction. There were bodies everywhere, and large chunks had been blown out of the walls. The prince was still there, battered and streaked with blood but alive. Wren stood with him, back to back. Ben glanced about but couldn’t see Dagmar.
“It’s over!” Prince Robert bellowed at Ictid even as he fired an ice spear into the chest of a charging dark elf. “Your king is dead and you know it! I felt it, which means you must have too. Surrender now and live — or continue to fight and die!”
The dark elf prince didn’t seem that worried. “Don’t be ridiculous. You are in the middle of my homeland. Just because you have somehow managed to end my father’s life, you think you will leave here alive?”
Wren seemed to be trying to tell the prince the same thing, pulling him back a bit.
Ben walked in at that point, his friends behind him.
“Well, if it isn’t young Greenwood.” Despite the dark elf prince’s bland tone, his eyes flared with intense rage. “Since you’ve apparently murdered my father, I’m going to make absolutely sure yours dies a horrible death.” He smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes.
Wren saw them and waved them away. “Get out of here. We will deal with this.”
Shaking his head, Ben moved closer. “I don’t think so.”
As he walked he noticed out of the corner of his eye Dagmar’s body up against a nearby pillar, head lolling lifelessly. He blocked it out for now, focusing on what was in front of him.
“You act all brave, like you’ve got all these soldiers at your side. Let’s be honest with each other, shall we? You and your kind really aren’t well loved by your people. I’m pretty sure there will be partying in the streets when they find out the great dictator has been removed.” It was Ben’s turn to smile, with just as little mirth.
He raised his spellshooter and Ictid’s eyes opened wide. “How did you…?”
Before Ben or the others could do anything, he raised his hand. A jet of blue light shot out from behind a nearby column, creating a barrier between them. Ben moved forwards fast but could only get so close. He stared hard, and could just about make out a tall, robed person with Ictid. Ben thought the person turned to look at him briefly before a glow lit up from behind the blue barrier. When it faded, they were gone. A few moments later the barrier vanished as well.
Ben turned around to face Wren and the prince, who were looking at him. He noticed Wren’s eyes flick towards his spellshooter before settling on his face. He quietly holstered it, certain that it would be a conversation for
another day.
Before he could be asked any questions, he had a few of his own, which he addressed to both Wren and the prince.
“What just happened there? I didn’t think that type of magic was possible.”
The prince looked troubled, and he and Wren shared a look before nodding to each other.
“It’s not to most people,” Robert confirmed, “but there is a collection of the most powerful wizards, witches and warlocks, known as—”
Ben cut him off, stating with cold certainty, “The High Council.”
The prince stopped in surprise. “Yes, how do you…? Actually, no, I’m going to stop asking that. Let me just continue and pretend you didn’t say anything.”
He had a wry smile on his face. Ben realised the prince seemed a lot lighter than before somehow. Most likely with the armour finally gone he felt a great relief, even if he didn’t realise it.
“The High Council, as I was saying” — he arched an eyebrow — “is a collection of the most powerful humans, elves, dwarves and so on around. They are rarely seen by anyone, but seem to have a hand in things a little too often. It looks like they have reasons for keeping Ictid alive.”
He shared another look with Wren, who gave him a meaningful one back. It was Wren who asked finally, “Ben, where is the armour? I noticed the boots have gone, but I thought maybe someone took them while we were otherwise engaged. But now I see you and Joshua…?”
Ben simply shrugged. “Gone. After we… I killed Suktar, they all just kind of turned into dust; then there was a sort of intense white light and then it vanished too.” He looked at Joshua and raised his eyebrows.
Joshua nodded. “Yeah, I guess once its use was over, that was that.”
His friend clearly didn’t know why Ben wasn’t telling the whole truth, but when you went through something like they just had you tended to trust one another. They would talk about it later for sure, but for now Abigail and Joshua seemed like they would roll with it.