Piercing The Darkness (Guardian Series)

by JW Baccaro

  Unable to rise, Darshun screamed in agony.

  "Ah yes, I can feel your cranium beginning to crack. It won't be long now." He increased the pressure; were Darshun to scream any louder his lungs might collapse. "Shall I ease the pain, perhaps show a little—oh what is the word, mercy? Yes, for I plan on inflicting additional agony." Slowly, he released his foot, when unexpectedly noticing the eyes of the Guardian burning in flame. "Still a little fire left I see—"

  The Guardian swung his leg, sweeping Abaddon's feet out from under him, then jumped up, reached down for Abaddon, grabbing a hold of his throat with one hand, between his legs with the other, lifted him over his head and smashed him hard into the mountain forming a crater.

  The debris settled and the demon climbed out, only to come face-to-face with Darshun once again. Abaddon threw a punch.

  Darshun ducked and wailed him in the gut with his fist, the blow knocking the wind out of him. Then he jumped high and kicked him flat in the face, the Fallen Angel hurling back a good hundred feet. Darshun began to ascend, shifting his wings.

  Angrily did Abaddon fly up to meet him. "Cursed Nasharin!" Abaddon growled. "I am immortal!"

  "No matter what it takes, no matter how much agony I must endure, I will never give up. I shall defeat you!"

  "Well then," he grinned, "let your agony…continue!"

  They clashed.

  ~~****~~

  “We have to intercede,” Talvenya announced.

  “Apparently so,” Nayland responded. “Darshun's new powers are just not cutting it.”

  “But why?” Minevara asked. “I don’t quite understand, Windtros had him, practically disintegrated him. And yet, that vile of a beast looks completely healed!”

  “A third form of energy lingers up there,” Olchemy said. “It omits from Abaddon’s sword like an overpowering mist; its essence pure evil, a familiar evil I’ve encountered long ago.”

  Nayland looked to him, curious. “Who—what is it?”

  Olchemy avoided his dark eyes, and wouldn’t answer.

  “Lucifer,” Magnus said, speaking aloud. “I recall the same energy while inside of the Wraith, and the Wraith’s many conversations with that Angel, the original Fallen Angel. He is the strongest of them all, and often looked to as a God by the others.”

  “Do you mean to say he is here also?” Nayland asked.

  “I don’t believe so, son but—”

  “A form of his energy is,” Olchemy interrupted.

  "Precisely."

  “For reasons I do not grasp, it lingers within Abaddon’s sword, a unity of both Abaddon and Lucifer’s essence.”

  “So, what are we going to do?” Minevara asked looking up toward the battle in the Heavens, Darshun and Abaddon going at it again with their swords, the clashing of steel vibrating the ground under the army’s feet.

  "All events are written in stone…All creation chooses freely," King Loreus said, though he hardly seemed to be to speaking to anyone. He was looking at the Sword of Purity—had been staring at it for a while now and many around him were wondering whether or not he knew the present situation.

  "I’ve said that quite often," Kaylis commented.

  Loreus turned to him. "Our fellowship on the way to Cestmir, remember? You said both fate and will intertwine one another."

  "I believe so, yes."

  "I think I have figured out the puzzle. Olchemy, do you recall the verses about a 'spherical-shaped essence of power,' within the Book of Enchanted Objects the former King Adeleric possessed?"

  The High Wizard squinted, curious to his meaning. "Why of course. What does any of that have to do with Abaddon?"

  "Call me crazy, but I believe that 'essence of power' is Abaddon. I cannot sense energies like the Nasharin race or yourself, but while grasping this sword, I felt a disharmony within its magic shortly after we all thought Darshun destroyed Abaddon. Like a sixth sense, the feelings poured through my body, and I could hear what sounded like a heartbeat. Blackened and cold this heart was, encased within a bedding of steel. I could sense every element amongst the steel. And correct me if I am wrong—the heart is the most vital organ within every living creature. Without it there can be no life."

  "Yes, but what in the Seventh Realm are you talking about?" Minevara asked.

  " 'By way of the blackened heart, fused within the essence of the first evil, used for the forbidden spell immortality, a lifeforce only the ‘golden blade’ can vanquish, with the wielder redeeming his race,' " Olchemy spoke, recalling Adeleric's words when they last conversed over the verses in the Book of Enchanted Objects. "I think I understand."

  "Yes…" Loreus nodded. "The blackened heart is the heart of Abaddon, given over to Lucifer—the first evil; for the ability to become immortal did Abaddon cast this spell, the forbidden spell contrary to Divine Law. In other words, Abaddon was granted the power from Lucifer to make himself immortal to all realms containing physical law, sealing his heart within the very sword he battles Darshun with."

  "Why his heart within the sword?—better yet, why his heart outside his body at all?" Minevara asked. "That's just creepy!"

  "For starters, giving up your heart is part of the spell, an offering to the God, or shall we say Lucifer, granting you the ability, while at the same time symbolic to the fact that the deity owns your soul; and what better place to embed one's heart than a sword? The sword has always been a sign of power and authority; steel, fused with immortal evil, making the sword unbreakable, just like Abaddon's immortality."

  "Or perhaps there is a better explanation," Talvenya interrupted. "When I ruled as queen, rumor had it Abaddon's sword was forged with demonic elements from the Underworld, but later on he re-forged it again, this time melting down and intertwining a thousand Arion crystals, or as you people have called them, the blood of the Fallen Angels."

  "Yes!" Queen Aeryka shouted, "It's all is coming together now. I've read my share of material, even some dark literature. One must know their enemy. In sorcery, it is commonly taught that Arion crystals must be used in the casting of Forbidden Spells, it is the blood of the Fallen Angels that make the spells forbidden to begin with, at least one of the reasons. A type of mockery against Divine Law; the other was the request. The sword represents power; the heart enshrined within the sword is protected by that power, and by the touch of Lucifer is the spell sealed between the spell caster and Lucifer himself. Abaddon gave him his soul, in exchange to become truly immortal, where nothing can destroy him in the physical planes. In a way, Lucifer holds Abaddon's blackened heart within his tainted hands. Were Abaddon to die, he would become Lucifer's slave until the Great Day of Judgment, bound to the will of the original Fallen Angel, he who led the first rebellion against the Light. Abaddon must have foreseen this moment to have made such an unorthodox bargain indeed, to cast such a forbidden spell. To destroy him, we must destroy the heart within the sword—only no earthen material is stronger than Arion, not even the infamous Milandrith Metal Nasharins are so fond of."

  "So, all in all nothing you preached really matters," Caelestias balked. "If his weapon is unbreakable, we have already lost!"

  "No," King Loreus spoke, "The Sword of Purity can shatter that blade."

  "Your golden sword?" Nayland asked.

  "Aye, I'm sure of it!" He turned to Astra, as the Unicorn stood beside Shadow, and Shadow beside Nayland. "Lady Astra, once before you said that if Darshun is successful in winning this war, the symbol of the Nasharin race will engrave itself onto my sword, correct?”

  “Symbol?” Nayland commented, “What symbol? Our race has no symbol—”

  “Shhh!” Minevara said, placing her hand over Nayland’s mouth. Any other time, he would have put up a fight, but his mind was taken astray by the apparition of Lady Astra, her feminine spirit hovering above the unicorn body.

  “That is correct, King of Loreladia. The Nasharin Race will take their rightful place amongst the other sacred races of earth.”

  “Now I ask a more impor
tant question, can this sword I hold shatter the blade of Abaddon?”

  She looked at the sword for a moment, the golden blade reflecting in the moonlight. “I cannot answer that.”

  “You cannot or will not,” Talvenya interrupted.

  “I do not know the answer,” Astra responded.

  “…I do,” Loreus spoke. “Think about it, this sword was forged in purity, each member put his or her heart into it, not just for the sake of good craftsmanship, but righteousness, holiness and truth.”

  “What's the point?” Caelestias demanded.

  “Just as in times past, when chosen members of each holy race used the Sword of Purity to accomplish great deeds, so now must the ‘son of fire,’ the Guardian take it up and destroy the blackened heart of Abaddon. Then, all things will be complete. And the Nasharin race forever redeemed in the eyes of the righteous.”

  “But the sword has been entrusted to you," Astra noted. “In the past, they who conquered challenges only did so because the Golden Sword, at the time, was entrusted to them, just as you accomplished aligning the separated races of today. Presently, the sword is meant for you, not Darshun.”

  "It is a sword of purity; Darshun has become a creature of purity."

  "The Guardian has his own sword, created by the elements of Heaven. If he cannot break the blade of Abaddon with that, how do you except yours to?"

  "The same thoughts crossed my mind, but understand…The Golden Sword was created with earthen material, it is meant for our world, our realm, sealed by the righteous dwellers of the earth, set in stone to be used for this one moment in time. It will work. I know it shall! Have faith.”

  They all fell silent for a moment, as if everyone was taking in the King’s words.

  “Then, what are we waiting for?” Minevara shouted, overseeing Darshun taking another blow from Abaddon’s accursed fist, pummeling the Guardian into the rocks. “Let’s get up there and save my brother!”

  "Hold it," Nayland said, "Darshun is taking a beating. Will he have the strength to wield the sword?"

  "If not, Kelarin can alter that."

  "My sister is halfway across the battle field, healing others as we speak," Caelestias interjected. "There is no time; even if there was, Darshun's Angelic form would require more than what my sister can handle, she's running weary."

  "There is one among you who can heal the Guardian," Astra commented. "Providing she still holds the miracle flower."

  Knowing all too well the Unicorn's words Talvenya threw off her chest armor and reached under her cloak, into the inner pocket. She still had the flower, safely kept since Astra had given it to her the day they first left for Cestmir.

  "Is it there?" Astra asked, watching Talvenya.

  She nodded, and for a moment, her eyes seemed to flash. "You desire me to heal the creature that killed my only son?"

  "Just give me the flower and I will give it to him!" Minevara said, stepping toward her. "We are wasting time."

  "If by a miracle you manage to take it from me, sister of Darshun, your brother will not be healed. I hold the magic touch, or as some have called it, the 'potent.' "

  Unexpectedly, instead of falling into argumentation, Minevara's eyes began to tear up. She got on her knees, keeping her saddened gaze on Talvenya. "I beg you, Talvenya, please help us. Let not your bitterness for Windtros be the fall of our existence. If you must, think of it as helping this world, rather than my brother. Please!"

  "I am not going to wait here while she aimlessly ponders," Caelestias balked. "It is deplorable! Let us storm the mountain before we haven't a world left to save."

  Looking down at Minevara, to the others, and then the sky, witnessing Abaddon tearing Darshun apart with his Angelic fists, she knew there was no other option, no matter how much she disliked it. "Stand, sister of Darshun. Let's go save the Guardian."

  Minevara jumped up excitedly. "Thank you!" She turned around bumping into Nayland.

  "You never get down on your knees for me," he teased.

  "Neither do you…" She smiled.

  "For the sake of time," Leriana the scarlet haired Centaur spoke, "Ride upon us. We will get you there faster."

  A dozen female Centaurs lined up before them.

  "Once there, we will cause a diversion, and face Abaddon, in order to set his gaze away from Darshun, so Loreus can give him the Sword," the High Wizard suggested.

  Caelestias, Olchemy, Minevara, Magnus, King Sirach and Queen Judith, along with the Dwarvish captain Baruch climbed onto the Centaurs. Favonius offered King Loreus onto his back, and Queen Aeryka offered Talvenya.

  "I wish to accompany," Kaylis said, looking up to his brother, stationed onto the black stallion Shadow. Nayland smiled. "We'd be glad to have you."

  "Ride upon me," the lady Astra spoke, stepping in front of a willing Centaur. "I will take you, Kaylis Winveil."

  Favonius looked the lady's way, taking notice of the Nasharin Kaylis. "If anyone will delay Abaddon, it shall be him."

  "Thank you for the encouragement, Favonius, but there is very little I can do. Although the smallest effort in a battle can make all the difference, as Talvenya once told me." He smiled at her.

  "Be careful Kaylis," Talvenya answered, almost regretting telling him that piece of advice. And if anyone did not know better, concern for him sounded in her voice.

  "Let us be off!" King Loreus urged.

  They all stormed up the mountain, everyone except Nayland, taking the time to make sure he had all his weapons, his armor attached, and mind focused. He looked back at the army. All eyes were upon him.

  "May the Light be with you," Captain Mythaen spoke, raising a sword.

  "It always has." He turned around, looking up the mountain, overseeing Minevara stopping for a moment, her eyes full of annoyance to his falling behind. He grinned. "Come on old friend,” he spoke to Shadow, stroking his mane. "Let's ride."

  ~~****~~

  The battle was still raging on between Darshun and Abaddon. Darshun was fighting with everything he possessed, inflicted nearly a dozen wounds on his opponent by way of sword and fist, and just when Abaddon thought the Guardian was running on his last ounce of power he would surprisingly come back, unleashing fury and rage; simply put—Darshun refused to go down while Abaddon still lived.

  But as eminent as that may seem, a thousand wounds covered his body, his skull felt split in two, one of his wings had been badly damaged by a slash of Abaddon’s sword, and he was direly exhausted. To even move became more than painful, a challenge.

  Another explosion, brought about by the clashing of their energy, separated them in the sky. Both landed hard onto the mountain peaks, splitting portions of rock.

  Trembling, Darshun dropped to a knee, the weakness throbbing in every muscle. Trying his best to focus, using the remainder of his strength, he rose, meeting Abaddon’s hard gleam on the other side.

  “I do not grasp how you've lasted this long,” Abaddon surmised. “You really are something unique. It is a shame you will not fight by my side.”

  “Never would I succumb to such a treacherous deed,” Darshun answered.

  “You are a fool. Why do you care so much about such petty creatures of the earth? They are nothing like you and I. We could crush every one of them. Why should they not obey an order?”

  “They do obey an order, an order of the Light. What you do not understand is that they are free to choose how they live within that order. There is no fear of slaughter, torture or mutilation for their mistakes. By their own free will, they live in harmony with the rest of the earth, helping one another and respecting the life, they’ve been given. You, on the other hand, desire things to be your way only or death surely follows. Your vile stench reaches the highest Heaven. You are full of selfishness, greed, lust and hate. That is an order no kingdom can live by. Freedom does not exist in your 'law' Abaddon. Creatures never get that chance to learn, to ascend, to be transformed into something anew, something positive and sacred, producing fruitful en
ergy, rather than judgment. What you stand for is evil, and today that evil shall end forever. As you fell from the Heavens, so shall you fall from this realm.”

  Abaddon growled, becoming angry at these words and transported in front of Darshun, slamming his fist hard into his stomach.

  Darshun felt as though a boulder out of the heavens dropped onto him, the pain flowing throughout his body, to every muscle and bone. He crouched over, spitting out a mass of blood.

  Abaddon grabbed a lock of his hair, pulling up his head. “For an Angel, you bleed well." Two beams of blistering red energy shot out of his eyes, scorching Darshun's face. Still holding him by the hair, Abaddon set a palm against his chest, and unleashed a devastating blast of dark energy, bursting a hole through the Guardian's upper right side.

  Darshun flung back helplessly, a good five-six hundred feet before crash-landing and rolling over the jagged rocks, one finally piercing his leg, another his left arm, keeping him in place, until Abaddon smashed onto him with his feet, having plunged down from the sky, the pressure sinking Darshun into the rock, forming a crater. His energy had vanished; no aura, no movement—he lay there looking like an Angel that had fallen from Heaven, thrashed onto the mountain.

  “Today your life ends, not mine, Nasharin.”Abaddon ascended high and raised his arms, preparing to launch one final attack to finish off the newly born Guardian, when suddenly a blast of painful energy struck him from behind, knocking him forward a bit. Seething with anger, he turned around sharply. Standing afar off was the High Wizard Olchemy, a white mist rising from his staff.

  “And what do we have here?” Abaddon smiled, flying his way, landing close to the Wizard. “Ah yes, Olchemy." He stepped forward, kicking aside a few stones. "It's been a long time since I’ve seen your face. You've been through changes, but do you really think your senseless actions are going to make a difference?”

  “Anything we can do to help destroy the disgrace that trespasses on our realm.”

  He raised a brow. "You mean my realm."

  "No Abaddon," he raised his staff, "I mean ours!"