by Tony Donadio
“I will. So where was I? Oh, right. I was talking about growing up in Highpeak —”
Diana’s back arched abruptly. She gasped in pain.
“I told you to brace yourself,” Orion said.
She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes flashing.
“I did,” she hissed, through gritted teeth.
“You warned me not to be gentle. Do you need a minute?”
She looked away, and he could see her balling her hands into fists.
“Of course not. I’ll get through it.”
She gasped again as he resumed swabbing her wounds. “But maybe you should talk for a while,” she added, her lips tight.
“All right. What should I talk about?”
“I don’t know. Tell me about yourself, your family.”
Orion was quiet for a time as he worked on her back. When he finally spoke, there was a note of reluctance in his voice.
“There’s not much to tell,” he said. “I’m from a merchant family. They operate the Deneri Trade and Import Company. They have extensive contacts at court, and in the Merchant’s Guild.”
“Ah,” she said, nodding. “That explains some of it.”
He frowned. “Some of what?”
“Your dual personality. The philosopher who can fight demons. The shy boy with a mastery of court etiquette.” She chuckled. “You took the other girls completely by surprise with that performance back in class, you know.”
He shook his head. “I was trained from a young age to be ‘presentable’ to the lesser nobility. But I’ve never felt myself defined by that, or by my family.”
“And yet you wear both roles well.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“Is that why you became a scholar? Because you didn’t like the life your parents were pushing you toward?”
“No. I did that because I love learning. I always have.”
“And your training as an adventurer?”
“That’s … a different story.”
She nodded eagerly. “Tell me about it.”
He did. By the time he was done relating his conversation with Dean Lander before the class, he’d finished treating and bandaging her wounds. They finished by sharing draughts from what remained of the regenera. Diana looked thoughtfully at him as she re-laced her blouse.
“I admire your determination to set the course of your own life,” she said at last. “I’ve always had a streak of independence, but I’ve never even thought of resisting my family’s expectations of me.”
“That sort of thing isn’t exactly encouraged in Dorian society,” he offered.
“No, it’s not. But you’ve had remarkable support for it here. From professors at the academy, even the Archmage himself. I guess that’s what’s always fascinated me about Carlissa. Even the princess, allowed to become a bard. That would be unheard of in my homeland.”
Without warning she walked over to the window and pulled aside the valence. Orion came to stand by her side, an inquisitive expression on his face. They looked out on the city together.
The Carlissan resistance was broken. Fires raged everywhere, and columns of smoke rose like orange pillars into the reddening sky. The walls and towers of the army base had been shattered and were being consumed in a raging inferno. The only soldiers they could see lay dead. Hellmen, demons, giants and dragons roamed or flew over the streets, destroying, killing, and taking prisoners at will.
They turned to the west. An enormous force of battle demons — Orion estimated at least three thousand — was surging against the palace. The outer gates lay in ruins. Explosions and reports of magic echoed throughout the valley as the wizards and the warrior priests fought a losing battle to hold the fortifications. Shadows were beginning to reach into the valley as the sun moved down toward the shoulder of Mount Cascade.
“All that is gone now,” she said bitterly. “Even if the people survive, and the demons don’t just slaughter us all. That budding spirit of independence will end.”
She turned to look at Orion, her face haunted. “It’s going to be lost forever, isn’t it?”
Orion shook his head. His face was grim, but Diana was surprised to see that defiance still burned in his eyes.
“There’s one last hope,” he said quietly.
“What?”
Orion pointed across the firth to the south, to the Silver Star Adventurer’s Academy. Another brigade of battle demons swarmed around it, but its tower still stood, gleaming proudly against the afternoon sky.
“The Archmage,” he said. “He would never surrender the city without a fight. I don’t know what his plan is, or what he’s waiting for. But he has one.” His eyes hardened. “And this battle won’t be over until he’s played his hand.”
Diana rested her head against his shoulder. She didn’t try to hide the tears that welled again in her eyes.
“Your faith in him is …” Her voice trailed off.
He smiled at her. “You don’t share it,” he said simply.
She shook her head.
“No, but it inspires me. So I’ll believe with you, Orion Deneri. I’ll join you in your last hope.”
She looked out again at the burning city. “We don’t have anything else to believe in left.”
He sighed. He glanced back at the boxes of food, and the pile of blankets.
“We don’t know how long we’ll have to hide in here,” he said. “We should eat something, and try to get some rest.”
Chapter 19 - The End of the Beginning
Heartbreak
Kay laid a hand on Randia’s shoulder and shook her gently. “We must go, Your Highness,” she said urgently.
Randia slowly lifted her head. Her hands and hair were stained with blood from cradling her brother as he died. She was still crying, but her tear-stained eyes were alert.
She looked around the glade and nodded. When she spoke she had to force her voice to break through her sobs.
“You’re right,” she said.
She gently took the prince’s hand and slipped the Ring of the Killravens from his finger. Then she bent one last time to kiss his forehead.
“Goodbye, Gerard,” she said.
Then she stood, braced herself, and put on the ring.
She hadn’t known what to expect. She had supposed the artifact would flood her mind with power, and hoped it would give her strength to fight their way through to the Silver Star. She was surprised to find that wearing it felt very different. She could sense its magic, but had no inkling that she could wield it in combat or to cast spells.
She heard the song again, now clearly in her mind, a coloratura voice backed by the sound of a full orchestra. Its notes rose in triumph and grandeur more beautiful, and more poignant, than anything she had ever imagined. She gasped at the sound, feeling overwhelmed and helpless at the emotions it stirred in her.
Stefan was immediately at her side, holding her arm. “Randi, are you all right?” he asked. His voice was anxious.
Of course. Father said it would affect each of us in our own way.
She heard her brother’s words again in her mind, and understood. The King was a warrior at heart, and the ring had given him the power of an epic hero. Gerard was a wizard, and it had given him the power of an Archmage. Her grandfather was the Archmage, and it would give him the power of a demigod — power enough, they hoped, to stop the end of the world.
And she? Hers was the heart of a musician. She could feel the ring augmenting that ability, just as it had those of her father and brother. She could hold a score of complex melodies in her mind as clearly as if she heard them played, without flaw, by as many orchestras. She could weave those melodies together into a tapestry of music that would transcend anything heard before.
She wept new tears from her already brimming eyes. The music she could compose with this artifact would remake her art. It would bring audiences to a crescendo of emotion, to a rebirth and renewal of the spirit …
But it could only
be of value to people who lived in peace and safety. It was not a battle power. It offered her nothing to stop a horde of demons.
She felt the metal change as the ring resized itself to fit snugly on her smaller hand. Slowly, she turned to face Stefan. She nodded.
“I’m all right,” she said. “It just … took a moment to adjust to.”
“Can you use its magic?” Kay asked hopefully.
Randia shook her head bitterly. “Not unless I want to try and sing the demons to death.”
“What?” Stefan asked.
She shook her head again. “Never mind.”
She looked around, surveying the battlefield. “It’s time for us to go.”
Kay bent down to the prince’s body. Gently, almost reverently, she unbuckled and removed his sword belt. She slid Flamebane into its scabbard, and extended it to Randia.
“You can use that better than I can,” the princess said.
Stefan shook his head. “Gerard was right. This is more than just a weapon. It’s a symbol. You need to carry it.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Randia nodded. She took the belt from Kay and buckled it around her waist.
Kay walked over to Ashrach’s body and pried the demonic spear from its dead hands. She hefted the weapon, testing its weight.
“I’ll use this,” she said. There was a satisfied glint in her eyes.
Stefan nodded, flipping Randia’s dagger in his hand. “This has worked pretty well for me. I’ll hold on to it, if you don’t mind.”
Randia quickly unfastened the sheath from her belt and handed it to him.
“Not at all,” she said. “You were always the better throw in our act anyway.”
“Just let me fetch my bow, and Richard’s quiver,” Kay said. “It was full when he was killed, and he had some bluesteel arrows. He should be just a few steps back the way we came.”
Randia nodded. “Be quick. While you’re at it, check to see if there are any demons coming along the path. The trees block our view from here, and we need to know if we’ll have any pursuit.”
Stefan looked at his other hand as Kay sprinted toward the entrance to the glade. It held the prince’s wand, still glowing softly.
“Gerard bound the last of his magic into this when he died,” he said. “I can feel it. The fading remains of his cloaking spell, and … a burst of power.” He looked up at her. “Like one last arrow in a magical quiver.”
Randia followed his gaze. She could see the two auras playing over the surface of the wand. One, gray, looked to be in danger of flickering out. The other, bright silver, thrummed as though impatient for release.
She nodded. “You keep it. It may come in —”
She never finished. The wand’s flickering gray aura suddenly winked out in a shower of red and black sparks.
Her eyes widened in terror. “Oh, no —” she began.
Almost at the same time, the sound of scuffling boots and thudding feet reached them from the path to the west. Kay’s cry shattered the still air with a single word.
“Run!”
They didn’t hesitate. The pair sprinted toward the eastern end of the glade, and the tunnel exit that ran in the direction of the Silver Star Adventurer’s Academy.
They had gone about half the distance when the sound of a powerful blow rang through the air behind them. Randia spun in time to see Kay fly through the entrance to the garden. She slammed against the stone wall at its southern end and slid down it to the alabaster tiles, leaving a red smear along the rocky surface. She crumpled to the ground and did not move.
A massive demon strode through the entrance behind her. It saw Randia and Stefan, and smiled. When it spoke the sound grated on their ears, like nails being scraped against a chalkboard.
“I am Gorath,” it said. “And at last I’ve found you, little princess.”
Stefan grabbed her arm. “Run!” he cried.
Tearing her eyes away from Kay’s body and blinking back new tears, Randia turned to follow him. Gorath shook its head violently. It raised one arm and drew its hand down in a sweeping gesture before its face.
“Goh nul zah na ta,” it chanted.
A sheet of flame appeared before the entrance to the tunnel. Randia and Stefan barely managed to skid to a stop only a few feet before running into it. They were trapped.
They turned again to face the demon as it strode into the glade. They watched as it looked around, surveying the battlefield, littered with the bodies of guards and demons alike. Its gaze rested briefly on Ashrach’s headless form, and then finally on the body of the prince.
“Impressive,” it said finally. “A full company of my demons. All dead, by a handful of guards and one wizard. From the signs, a royal who fought like the Archmage himself.” It chuckled. “That’s the second time today.”
It turned to face Randia. She glared at the creature in helpless fury.
“And it won’t be the last, monster,” Stefan said boldly. “One scion of the royal house of Carlissa still lives. Flee, or you’ll share their fate.”
Gorath laughed, slapping its thighs with its enormous clawed hands.
“Well played, princeling!” it roared.
It gestured at the slain demons. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not quite as simple as my underlings. You’re bluffing, of course.”
“Don’t be so sure —” Stefan began. Gorath cut him off with another burst of laughter.
“The puzzle wasn’t difficult to solve,” it continued, almost conversationally. “Surely the same power was at work here that the King used to repel our first attack on the palace.” He gestured toward Gerard’s body. “A power that he gave to his son, who used it to escape and to come to this place. A power that he gave to his sister when he died, and which she now wears on her left hand.”
A shiver of panic ran down Randia’s spine. The monster knew about the ring.
The demon gestured toward her. “But it’s a power she does not know how to use. That is easy enough to tell from the hatred in her eyes. If she could, she would already have burned me to a cinder. If she could wield this mysterious artifact, I would already be dead.”
Stefan was silent. Gorath smiled again, and began to stride toward them.
“It is over, princess,” it said. “I would prefer to deliver you alive to my master, Lord Borr. But I do not need to.” It gestured toward Stefan. “I will give you a chance to surrender. If you do, I will spare him. If you do not, I promise that he will die slowly.”
The fingers of Stefan’s left hand whitened as he gripped Gerard’s wand. “You will not take her while I live, demon,” he said acidly.
Randia looked around desperately for a way out of the glade. She saw none. The tunnel through the cleft in the bluffs was the only exit they could reach, and the demon’s flaming barrier blocked it completely …
Flaming barrier.
She didn’t stop to think about what she did next. She closed one hand around the hilt of her brother’s sword, where it sat strapped to her hip. Her other hand grabbed Stefan’s, and she looked into his eyes.
“Trust me!” she cried.
He barely had time to nod in surprise. Randia spun and drew Flamebane from its sheath. The two turned and, hand in hand, ran toward the entrance to the tunnel.
Randia felt the sword’s icy magic rush through her as they entered the blaze. She saw a cold white light flare along the blade, which seemed to react with an almost palpable anger at the fiery magic’s touch. The white glow formed a frosty aura around them, driving back the flames.
Seconds later it was over. They were past the fire and running madly through the tunnel, trying to reach the far end.
The sounds of pursuit echoed almost immediately through the granite passageway. Gorath roared in surprise and anger, and they heard the pounding of the demon’s feet as it lumbered toward the opening behind them. Certain that it had them, their escape had caught it off-guard.
Randia desperately tried to think of a way to evade the monster. She a
nd Stefan were both fast, and the demon large. They might be able to outrun it for a while, maybe even widen their lead a bit — until they tired. But they would never lose it. Now that it had their scent it would keep after them, relentlessly, until it caught them, or it was dead. That meant a race to the Star, hoping against hope to reach her grandfather before they were captured or slain. They had to keep running.
The passage turned, and her heart leaped with hope as she saw light at the end of the tunnel. Once they were out, they would be on a curving road that led to the shoulder of the bluffs above the academy. If they could get close enough then perhaps the mages in the tower would see their plight, and could do something to help …
A loud report exploded behind them. Randia saw the bright blue flash of a lightning bolt illuminate the granite walls of the tunnel. Sparks and stone chips rained down in the passage just behind them.
Cold fear stabbed through her heart again as she realized how close they had just come to death. If it hadn’t been for the turn they had just passed …
They needed to get out of the tunnel. Trapped within it, they were sitting ducks for Gorath’s magic. If they didn’t reach the exit before the demon turned that corner as well, they were dead.
She felt Stefan let go of her hand. She did the same, realizing that holding hands as they ran was slowing them down. She pulled ahead of him, desperately trying to move faster.
“Come on!” she gasped. “Run, Stefan! With all you’ve got!”
That was when she sensed that something was terribly wrong.
It took her only moments to realize what it was. Stefan hadn’t just fallen behind. She could no longer hear the sound of his breathing, or his footsteps. In panic she slowed, looking over her shoulder to search for him.
He was standing in the center of the passage, a dozen paces behind her. His posture was resolute, determined. His eyes were looking at her with a mixture of love and resignation, and he was crying.
She skidded to a halt and turned to face him. She heard Gorath racing toward them. In only seconds it would emerge from the shadows of the tunnel behind.
“Stefan, come on!” she screamed.
He shook his head. His bard’s voice resonated powerfully as he called to her for the last time.