Such was the power of the spell that Mestel felt its intensity from the other side of the room, nearly causing him to lose focus on his target. Mestel released his second arrow at the Sorcerer fighting the bodyguard as the first wave of heat washed across his face. The arrow silently crossed the distance, passed through skin and bone, and slammed into the Sorcerer’s heart. He fell dead to the ground, leaving only two enemy wizards remaining.
The Sorcerer on the left made it to the marble pillars and passed beyond Mestel’s line of site, but Rafa was still standing in the middle, a relatively easy target.
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Rafa watched as Bristol fell to the ground with an arrow in his back. Rather than flee, Rafa crouched down and cast Deflection on himself. Knowing he was safe from any further arrow attacks, Rafa stood up and turned to his right in time to see Kyle burn down the remaining bodyguard of the King. He was just about to order Kyle to deal with the archer, while he killed the King, when an arrow pierced Kyle’s heart and he was no more.
Rafa turned to face the attacking archer, wondering what had gone wrong. Anyone who could kill two administrators that quickly from sixty feet away was an archer who demanded attention. Rafa noticed a small man half-hidden behind a pillar halfway down on the right. No. Not a man. Rafa focused in on the small being and was shocked to see that it was an elf. Not just any elf. The elf that had thrown a fit in the Administrator Building, who he himself had ordered locked away in the Academy prison with Austen.
Rafa raised his hand and launched five energy bolts at the archer, before he turned to Flint and said, “I will finish the King. You deal with the archer.”
Flint nodded his head in agreement and set about his task. Rafa heard a humming sound and turned toward the archer just in time to see two arrows simultaneously deflect away from his body to harmlessly hit the steps and back wall. The arrows had been aptly aimed for his head and midsection. Rafa turned his back on the assassin, confident in his Deflection spell, as well as Flint’s ability to deal with the threat. He turned toward the throne to finish off the King, where he found something he thought he had dealt with more than twenty-five years ago.
Chapter 111: Two Wizards and a King
Austen moved back reflexively as the side door to the throne room flung open and a cowardly bodyguard emerged. The guard shut the door, turned toward Austen, then quickly ran in the opposite direction toward the King’s residence. Austen watched him go around the corner and out of sight. He would bring help, but by the time he came back it would be too late. It was up to him and Mestel to save the King’s life. He heard noises coming from the other side of the thick wooden door. Knowing what he would be facing, Austen took a moment to cast Sphere of Removal on himself before opening the door and crossing the threshold. The defensive spell would not stop all magic, but it would stop nearly every type of direct attack. The moment he had both dreaded and anticipated for twenty-five years had arrived. Austen opened the door quickly but quietly. He advanced toward the King just as Rafa turned around to face him. Recognition for both men was instantaneous.
Since Rafa had betrayed him to the dragon and his fellow Sorcerers so long ago, it should not have surprised Austen to see his old best friend take a leading role in the assassination of the King – and yet it did. The look on Rafa’s face told him he was just as disturbed to see him as well.
Both men stood in stunned silence for a moment. Austen managed to recover first; looking around the hall he saw Bristol and Kyle on the ground with one arrow apiece in their torsos, so he assumed Mestel had already begun his attack.
Austen looked at Rafa and said, “My old friend. How the mighty have fallen.”
Rafa stood still for another instant until he came to an internal decision. With his mind made up, he assumed his natural look of arrogant determination.
“My old friend. You have no idea how high I have climbed.” Rafa pointed his hand directly at the King and said the magic words to bring lightning to his fingertips. The King cowered on his throne, fearing for his life. Austen moved quickly to stand between Rafa and the King. Austen stood perfectly still as lightning leapt from Rafa’s hand and impacted the Sphere of Removal. The lightning that was meant to cook the King while he sat on his throne was instead absorbed and dissipated by the Sphere throughout the room.
Rafa nodded his head toward Austen out of respect and said, “I see your powers have grown over the years. I should have turned you into a toad when I had the chance.”
Austen retorted, “Yes, you should have.” He matched Rafa’s opening volley by raising his hand and firing lightning back at his old friend. Rafa casually absorbed the energy with the metal bracers on his right arm. This time it was Austen’s turn to nod his head in respect.
Rafa mocked him by saying, “You are still second-best after all of these years. That must grow tiresome.”
Austen proclaimed proudly, “If by second best you mean I am unwilling to stab a friend in the back in order to raise myself up? Then, yes. If you mean, am I second to you in my skill as a wizard? Then the answer is a resounding no.”
Austen summoned all his concentration, determined to end the conflict here and now. Just as he had nearly been killed by a magical snake that had taken physical form, Austen now summoned a phantom snake to coil around Rafa’s immortal soul and rip it from his body.
The phantom snake appeared in a mist at his command, eager to nourish itself on a human soul. Austen flung the serpent at Rafa with a thought, not wanting revenge, but knowing he would have it. As the serpent lashed forward, Rafa reached out one of his hands and grabbed the phantom snake behind the head. Austen did not think such a thing was possible, and he looked on with amazement, concentrating all the harder. The snake made a metallic scream as Rafa tightened his grip. Austen felt short of breath, almost as though he were the one choking. Rafa twisted his hand to the side and broke the snake’s neck with one hand. The phantom snake disappeared into the nothingness from which it had come; Austen staggered backward and nearly fell to the floor from the intense pain.
Rafa shook his head as if explaining something to a small child. “You still think you are my equal. How delusional.” Rafa opened his mouth and cast Specter Sword as he climbed the steps separating the King from the commoners. A spectacular flaming sword appeared a few feet away from Austen. A thin, tall gateway appeared next to the sword, and a moment later two translucent hands reached out from the portal and grabbed the weapon. The phantom belonging to the hands walked out of the gateway, which closed behind him.
The phantom swordsman bowed at the waist toward Rafa, awaiting instructions. Rafa said, “Kill the human closest to you, but leave the King alone. He is mine.”
Austen took two tentative steps backward, honestly afraid for his life. The phantom did not wait on ceremony as it immediately moved the flaming sword gracefully through the air. Austen mouthed a quick arcane word meant to dispel the magical being, but although the spell resolved, it seemed to have no effect. Austen barely managed to block the first and second swings of the phantom using the metal bracers on his wrists, but the phantom swordsman was too much. Austen went to block the third swing while desperately trying to think what else to do, but he was too slow. The flaming sword slashed white hot across his chest, parting his flesh and paralyzing him with pain.
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Mestel saw the two arrows aimed for Rafa’s torso and head veer wildly off course, hitting harmlessly against the stairs and back wall. Rafa had protected himself from direct arrow attack, just as he figured, but it had been worth the attempt. Mestel pulled out another arrow, but he could not fire at Rafa and the other remaining Sorcerer had gone behind the same line of pillars he was using for cover, albeit one pillar and thirty feet farther up. Mestel instinctively knew what the Sorcerer planned to do, and he knew exactly how to counter it. While the Sorcerer was out of site behind the pillar, Mestel seized the initiative and sprinted forward, hoping
to close the distance before his enemy emerged on the other side of the five-foot-thick marble pillar. He ran at near top speed on the balls of his feet and could not help but make some noise. Luckily the throne room was full of commotion and shaped in such a way that even the tiniest noise bounced off the marble walls, making it impossible to determine where any one sound originated.
He slowed down as he came up on the pillar the Sorcerer had disappeared behind. He felt, rather than saw, his enemy making his way around the other side of the pillar. He all but hugged the pillar and continued to move to his right, keeping the pillar between himself and the Sorcerer, hoping his plan would pay off.
Mestel stole a moment to look toward the throne, afraid that he would have to move prematurely against Rafa if the King was about to die. What he saw gave him hope. Rafa was at the bottom of the steps, with Austen standing next to the King. The two wizards seemed to be talking themselves into a stalemate, so Mestel left them to it, knowing Austen could handle himself. He focused instead on the threat to his rear, which was far from a sure thing.
Mestel poked his head carefully around the pillar and found his enemy fifteen feet in front of him, moving away, completely oblivious to the fact that Mestel was now behind him. Mestel knew what he was supposed to do next, but rather than move into action, he stood by the relative safety of the pillar, paralyzed by the old fear that always threatened to take his heart during moments like this. After all, who was he to decide who lives and dies? A lowly archer who up until a few moons ago could barely hit a target on the other side of the practice yard. Who was he to take on one of the most powerful wizards in Tellus and think he could win?
His hand went to the pouch at his side that held the coin of Martel, and the moment was gone. His god’s mission and grace filled him with strength and purpose. His mind cleared as he focused on the moment. Not knowing if the Sorcerer was protected against arrows, he slung his bow over his shoulder and charged his enemy – slowly at first in order to remain silent, then a dead-on sprint when the Sorcerer finally heard him barely fifteen feet away. The wizard tried to cast an energy bolt spell, but it was too late. Mestel took out his dagger and buried it in the lungs of his enemy. With his breath gone, the Sorcerer could not finish the incantation, nor could he warn Rafa. Mestel actually caught the wizard in his arms and lowered him softly to the ground, not out of respect for his enemy, but so that Rafa would not hear his death fall.
Mestel put away his dagger, irritated that he had been forced to use a hand-to-hand weapon. The bow was supposed to be his only weapon while he served his god, but desperate times called for desperate measures. If the Sorcerer had been protected against arrows, using his bow would have alerted him to his presence, possibly costing him his life. Martel would understand.
Mestel turned away from the dead body, realizing time was of the essence. He stepped out from behind the pillar to find he might already be too late. Rafa was at the top of the dais, only a few steps away from the King. Austen was on the ground with a sword-wielding phantom standing over him. Mestel was a good eighty feet away and could never hope to close that kind of distance in time. He unslung his bow, raised his arm up to firing position, and pulled the bowstring back to his ear. But he did not shoot – there wasn’t any point. His arrow could not penetrate the Deflection spell. So Mestel stood proudly with his arm cocked in firing position, praying to Martel for some sort of miracle.
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Austen could feel himself dying. Lying on the cold marble floor with a searing cut across his chest, he knew he was dying. He could feel his life’s blood running warmly across his chest, staining his robes. He heard, rather than saw, Rafa climb the steps to the throne level. He opened his eyes a small amount and saw the phantom standing over him with his blazing sword. Austen was careful not to move a muscle or open his eyes for the phantom to see. He knew from experience that conjured beings followed orders to the letter, but they were incapable of independent thought. As long as he did not move, the phantom would think him already dead.
King Benjin said, “W-w-why are you doing this, Rafa?” It was easy to hear the fear in the King’s voice, since this was the first time he had ever been in mortal danger. “H-haven’t I al-always treated you w-well?”
Austen moved his head and eyes in small movements, looking around the room.
He saw Mestel on the other side of the throne room with bow in hand, ready to shoot. The elf looked confident and strong, but the arrow would not hurt Rafa as long as the Deflection spell was active.
Rafa spoke for the last time. “I would say it is nothing personal, your Majesty, but the truth is that you disgust me. I just cannot stand taking orders from you for even one more day.”
Rafa raised his hand to destroy the King; Austen sprang into action, knowing it might be the last thing he did in this world.
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Mestel stood silent as a statue, ready to shoot, as Rafa raised his hand to kill the King. Perhaps his arrow, if it couldn’t kill Rafa, would distract the wizard long enough for him to close the distance and fight him hand to hand. Mestel continued praying to Martel even as Rafa raised his hand. He waited until the last possible moment and then let his arrow take flight.
At that instant, Austen moved in a blur out of the corner of his eye. With one hand, the fifty-year-old wizard plunged his magic dagger into the foot of the phantom carrying the flaming sword, while he dexterously raised his other hand and said one arcane word that carried softly on the air to Mestel’s ears.
Lightning sparked from Rafa’s raised hand and ripped into the King. The King writhed in pain until Mestel’s arrow slammed into Rafa’s back, throwing him forward a step and bringing him to his knees. The phantom swordsman screeched in pain with Austen’s magic dagger embedded in his foot, before disappearing into the nothingness from which he had come. The crisis seemed to be over as Rafa put his hand down on the marble floor for support, his concentration disrupted.
No one moved as everyone tried to catch up on the events that had taken place. Austen eventually managed to sit up on his own. He managed to stand up by grabbing ahold of the throne and using it to pull himself up. Mestel pulled out another arrow and made ready to shoot. He stopped himself from killing Rafa, knowing it was Austen’s right to decide his ex-best friend’s fate.
Austen stepped in front of the throne with his dagger in hand. Even with an arrow sticking out of Rafa’s back, the Sorcerer still managed to cast another energy bolt that bounced harmlessly off Austen’s Sphere of Removal.
Once he saw it was over, Rafa looked up at Austen and said, “We were best friends once. Are you really going to let me die?”
Austen nodded without a shred of doubt. “Yes, I am.”
Rafa shook his head, ever the pompous ass. “I was always the better man.”
Austen shook his head and took a step closer. “You were the better wizard, with the most natural talent, but at no time were you ever the better man.”
In response, Rafa clumsily took out a dagger and swung it at Austen. Austen caught the knife hand with reflexes unbefitting a fifty-year-old man and buried his dagger in Rafa’s neck. Rafa, the second most powerful wizard in the Talon Guild, and a member of the Inner Circle, fell forward, dead before he hit the floor.
Chapter 112: The War Ends Before It Begins
Mestel watched as Austen, his mission accomplished, turned toward him and said, “Thank you for saving my King’s life.” Then the old man, wizard, and ex-Sorcerer fell unceremoniously to the floor.
The King seemed to recover somewhat from his near-death experience. He looked around the throne room at the dead and dying and finally settled on Mestel, saying, “What is the meaning of this? What has happened here?”
Mestel said, “First we need to get Austen some help. He is dying.”
He took one step toward Austen’s motionless body when the King spoke up loudly with authority. “First, you will answer my ques
tions! I am not used to having my life threatened in my own throne room! Then we will get your friend the help he needs.”
Mestel lowered his bow arm and said, “Rafa and three of his Sorcerer friends just tried to assassinate you. Austen and I found out about the attack and burst into the throne room in order to save your life.”
The King looked at Mestel with a crooked eye. “You are an elf, are you not?”
“I am, your Majesty.”
“Then why would you want to save my life?”
“Because my god demands that I bring down those who abuse their power. Rafa had some deep ulterior motive. I don’t know what it was, but he did not serve Kentar, or you. Please, your Majesty, Austen just saved your life. Now he is dying. Will you not get him some help?”
The King pressed on. “How do you know this?”
“I don’t have proof if that is what you mean, but I know it to be true.” Mestel waited a moment before continuing. “He was a Sorcerer, oath-bound to serve the Crown of Kentar until his dying breath. Instead, he framed Austen for a crime he did not commit and tried to assassinate his King. His true allegiance lay elsewhere.” Mestel looked at Rafa’s body. “And now we will never know where. At least you are alive. We must get Austen some help before it is too late, if it isn’t already.”
The King looked at him and nodded his head. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped when a loud commotion was heard coming down both hallways. Forty armed men burst through the side doors on the left and right and came sprinting into the throne room. Then, before anyone could say anything, there was more yelling, hitting, and footfalls outside the door to Mestel’s right. Two of the King’s soldiers came through the doorway with a bound man in between them. Mestel recognized the burning wizard hand on the prisoner’s surcoat as the sigil of a Knight of the Order and realized the bound man may have been in on Rafa’s assassination attempt. Mestel reasoned that Austen must have killed the Knight of the Order he chased down the left hallway, and now the one that had gone down the right side had been apprehended.
Do the Gods Give Us Hope? Page 41