“You don’t even have a weapon,” Searon continued. “Besides, I need you.”
Andron met Searon’s gaze.
“Find Karceoles, or Sh’on, or even Aliqua. I will not be able to defeat a warlock without the aid of magic. They need to know what is at stake.”
“Yes, General.”
“And Andron … you have served me well. There is no doubt in my mind that without you, we would not have been so successful.”
A small toothless grin shone on Andron for only a second before he saluted and departed. Searon stared after him for a long moment before glancing back to Sudegam. He did not want to continue alone, but knew he must. His claymore shone a brighter crimson when he held it over the left path, and so he took a breath and began walking.
Searon stalked inside a charred opening at the foot of a tree. His footsteps were cautious when he entered a shadowed hallway. Without his claymore, he wouldn’t have been able to see to get around. It seemed the warlock had burned a hole into an abandoned hallway. He wondered if any of the kheshlars knew of its whereabouts.
Everything the warlock did seemed clear now. There had been a purpose for everything. At first he hadn’t counted on nations unifying and resisting. He hadn’t counted on Searon. When the warlock realized what he faced, everything changed. Necromancers were brought in to find weaknesses. Arria was found to make Starlyn feel conflicted, although Zergiel hadn’t known Starlyn had left. Instead, Arria assassinated the king, successfully destroying the knowledge of Sudegam’s heart. Then she came for him and Anaela. When Zergiel reached position, Arria captured Anaela, hoping to make him hunt for her. Searon had no doubt Arria had left him alive because she had questions about her sister.
Searon wasn’t supposed to be inside the hidden pathways inside Sudegam. The warlock’s plan was near perfection, except for one thing. Even love wasn’t strong enough to abandon his friends to death. He had to help them, save them, before continuing to find Anaela. Zergiel had to be stopped; if he succeeded in destroying the heart, the kheshlars would crumble to old age and illness. There would be nobody left to oppose him, and he would dominate the land of Calthoria.
Searon could feel the tree calling to him and guiding him to the correct pathway. Relief shrouded him when he stumbled through the last archway, which led into a room. Inside, moss hung from the ceiling, and he had to push it out of his way as he quietly pressed on. Searon stopped when he noticed a faint emerald glow. He sheathed his claymore. The ground felt like mush under his boots as he tiptoed forward.
Suspended in the air, omitting rays of sparkling light, floated a diamond shape. It resembled a large seed, but with each passing second, it vibrated slightly. He walked to it and smiled, putting a finger against it.
“Your heart is a seed. The seed of life,” Searon whispered.
“Very good,” a cold voice said.
Searon turned to find Zergiel standing behind him with a grin mirroring icicles. The warlock was clad in black, with a long sword attached to his sash and a zylek in his hand. At his side stood one of the necromancers with purple robes, holding a scorpion in his hand, a sinister grin painted on his face.
“I know what you’re planning to do,” Searon said, face stern. “And I won’t let you do it.”
“I know. At first I underestimated you, but no longer, I assure you.” Zergiel grinned.
“You wanted me here?” Searon asked.
“The heart is life, and can only be destroyed by the seed of fire.”
“Seed of fire?”
“Yes. Did you ever wonder how Karceoles found you? He senses you, one of his own kind. You could even be one of his seeds with how often he gets around.”
“No … I am no wizard.”
“Not yet, you are still a seed. Sometimes it doesn’t develop for decades. However, you have been suppressing it. You have only accepted the abilities, but not the magic.”
“My mother …” Searon whispered.
“Was being killed by you … your magic. She knew it. That is why she sought the faeries. Only their magic, their blood, could save the both of you. Not all the magic left her when you were born though. Some continued on to your brother.” Zergiel paused and smirked. “Ever wonder why only your village was attacked so long ago? At the time I knew I either needed you dead or your help. So I had your family murdered and brought forth your vengeance. It is too bad Karceoles found you first, or I could have formed you into something great.”
“Victoria …” Searon whispered. “Kellen.”
His eyes rose to meet Zergiel’s. Hatred poured through them fiercely, making his body tremble. Everything he’d ever loved had been taken away by the warlock. He clasped the hilt of his claymore and stepped forward. Zergiel did not seem afraid, but rather proud, his grin broadening.
A flashback of Anaela’s serene grin entered his mind. Instead of getting more furious, it relaxed him. She would not want him blinded with rage. He cleared his thoughts and asked himself, why? Zergiel seemed too confident. Searon let his hand fall away from his weapon. The grin on the warlock’s face faltered and turned into a frown.
“No,” Searon whispered.
Zergiel snarled as he released an ebony lightning bolt from his zylek. Searon felt it through the air. It seemed to bend in his vision as he lifted his claymore. Instead of deflecting the energy, the weapon absorbed it. Searon grinned, taking a step back, thrusting his weapon into the air, and a spiraling red lightning bolt shot from its tip and into the warlock. Zergiel flew through the air and into a wall, groaning.
Searon always knew his weapon to be special, but never truly understood the power his brother put into it. Now he knew, which meant that somehow Noraes had known. Noraes was a mage: he used elements in the atmosphere and controlled them. Searon felt something different, a power inside himself—trapped but pounding against the stretching walls. He felt a hole; it started in the pit of his stomach and crept upward. He felt it tingling all through his veins.
His weapon kept his energy contained somehow. He thought back to Karceoles explaining the need of a zylek. Searon did not need a zylek—his weapon was enchanted like one. His excellent hearing and vision wasn’t from the faerie transfusion to keep his mother alive. It came from his inner magic.
When Zergiel got back to his feet, Searon slashed his claymore in the air, creating fire, ice, and wind elements. Each one struck the warlock true, knocking him backward. Zergiel quickly recovered and dashed at Searon, unsheathing his long sword to thrust it at the warrior. The blades clashed, creating sparks of black and crimson to dance around them.
They parried for what seemed like endless hours. They were matched in skill and neither could gain an edge. Whenever Searon lunged, Zergiel leaned his weight to one side and thrust his sword in a downward arc. Searon remained calm when he fought, not wanting his emotions to cloud his decisions. Frustration tried to leak into his thoughts as each one of his twists and maneuvers fell unsuccessful.
Searon felt the power inside of him growing as the hole in the pit of his stomach opened. The magic fed his strength and confidence, giving him an edge against the warlock. Little by little, Zergiel fell back, sweating as he defended himself.
Thinking he held the advantage, Searon pushed harder. Zergiel saw an opportunity and slid his foot forward, tripping the confident warrior. Before Zergiel could bring his sword down to strike Searon, a blast of spiraling orange flame enveloped it, sucking it out of his grasp.
Searon twisted to see Karceoles surrounded by an orange glow with flames protruding from his eyes. He held his zylek forward, forming another spell, zapping Zergiel away from Searon. The wizard’s robes were no longer a dirty brown, but a florescent orange, blinding anyone who dared glance at them.
“Now is no time to be lying down taking a nap, boy. Get on your feet!”
Instead of arguing, Searon only smiled, grateful to see the old man. He went over to stand next to him and face Zergiel. Karceoles smirked in response, but kept his focus on the war
lock getting to his feet.
“It is over, Zergiel.”
Menacing laughter echoed through the room as the warlock stepped forward. He raised his zylek, and two thin strings of lightning burst forward. The first Karceoles intercepted, but the second struck Searon’s hand, causing his claymore to fly from his grasp. Karceoles stepped in front of him to block the continued spells.
Searon spun to immediately begin searching for his weapon. The wizard and warlock continued their fight with magic, creating explosions as different elements met. Searon had to dodge everything from ice to fire in order to locate his weapon. He felt relief once the weapon came back into his grasp. Without it, he could feel the energy inside him burning like a fire, burning him from the inside out.
Searon rushed toward Karceoles to find his orange aura fading as black lightning shattered his fire. The wizard’s body sparked, making his bones visible with each jolt until he dropped his zylek. Zergiel grinned and shot a green vine from the tip of his weapon. Karceoles no longer had the ability to move. All the orange surrounding him faded completely.
Searon dashed as fast as his legs would allow, but he knew he wouldn’t make it in time. Zergiel found his sword and strode toward Karceoles, staring him in the eyes.
“At last I can remove that smart mouth of yours.”
“Noo!” Searon cried out.
Zergiel grinned and swung his sword against the wizard’s neck. The blade only went halfway through on the first swing, but with the second, the wizard’s head tumbled from his body, rolling across the ground. Karceoles’s body collapsed at Zergiel’s feet.
Rage overcame Searon as he clenched his fists around his claymore, his teeth grinding into each other. Karceoles by no means was the nicest man, but over the last year Searon valued his friendship and occasional wisdom. Now, the wizard was no more. He gave in to his inner rage as he reached the warlock. Everything from the death of his wife and child to Karceoles boiled out with each strike.
Zergiel blocked each blow coming at him as they circled around. Searon didn’t relent, each strike following the last by mere seconds. Zergiel led him around the room, a grin masking his face. Each blow of Searon’s held precision, but began to get more reckless. Everything around him blurred except for the warlock. Rage poured through Searon, drenching his blade in a crimson flame.
He finally thought he had the edge on Zergiel when the warlock dropped from sight. Searon’s vision cleared and he noticed the tree’s beating heart directly in front of him. He fought with all his strength to pull his weapon back mid-flight, but there wasn’t enough time. His momentum slowed, causing his blade to refrain from slicing completely through. Still, he could feel the slowed pulse of the tree. Great injury came to Sudegam. He removed his blade and sheathed it, stumbling forward to put the heart’s fire out with his bare hands. The pain overwhelmed him, but he could only hope his efforts would spare the tree.
Searon spun around to find Zergiel laughing. He tried to grasp his weapon once more, but Zergiel blasted it from his grasp with fire. The heat so close to his freshly burned hands caused him to flinch. He wished he still had the enchanted dagger with him, but there was little use desiring something out of his reach.
“That will suffice. It is not as much as I wanted, but it will not survive long now. Once it is weak enough I can destroy it myself,” Zergiel said.
“Why me? Why did you need me to destroy it?”
“Don’t you see? Darkness cannot enter the light, only something inside its own light can affect the flame, make it dwindle, before darkness can enter it. Once the light is gone, there will be an easy time spotting a new flame arising.” Zergiel grinned.
“You will not succeed. Someone will stop you,” Searon said.
“It won’t be you,” Zergiel replied, raising his sword high.
“There is one very important thing light has that darkness never will.”
“What is that?”
“Friends.”
Zergiel turned to deflect Etherond’s sword. Before he could gather himself, Andron swung a short sword to nick his shoulder. The warlock kicked Andron’s stump, making him fall to the ground in agony. Etherond and Zergiel locked in an intense battle, each shifting between defense and offense. Etherond was a weapon master, but even he could not match the warlock. At that moment, Searon remembered the arrow he’d snatched from Anaela’s quiver. He scrambled through his sash until he located it. He crept toward the warlock.
Zergiel efficiently pushed Etherond back, but not nearly swiftly enough. He turned around to find Searon at his heels. Zergiel barely managed a gurgle when the obsidian arrow shattered in his throat. The shaft went all the way through his neck, but all of the black glass remained inside of him. The lifeless warlock collapsed to the ground.
Sh’on appeared through the doorway and rushed to Searon. Sweat covered his face and exhaustion showed in his eyes. He stopped when he reached Searon and looked from Zergiel’s body to the headless corpse of Karceoles.
“The heart of Sudegam is damaged. If it ceases to beat, the kheshlars will no longer be immortal. Is there anything you can do?” Searon asked.
The mage studied the beating seed for a long moment before sighing. He shook his head as he clasped Searon’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I don’t believe there is anything I can do.”
Searon remembered the herbs on his sash and mixed them with water. He doubted they would help a tree, but there seemed little else he could do. Ammoresh for external wounds, snaothoeth for internal, enneth to prevent fatigue, and camorea to relax and numb the body and mind. All four herbs mixed together well, and he gently rubbed them on the heart. The wound seemed to heal slightly, but a large scar remained. He could feel Sudegam wasn’t at full strength, but it would survive for now. The kheshlars’ immortality would remain safe for the time being.
“There are still thousands of creatures to deal with,” Sh’on said.
“Go, take everyone with you. I wish to remain here alone for a moment,” Searon said.
“Yes, General.”
When everyone left, he plodded to the wizard’s body. He stood there for a long moment as flashbacks swirled in his mind. There were times Searon couldn’t stand the old man, but other times he respected him. His emotions were torn between relief and sadness.
“Boy …” whispered a voice.
Searon turned around frantically, but saw no one. He traipsed around until he heard mumbling coming from Karceoles’s head. Shivers migrated through his entire body as he lifted the head.
“It’s about time you got me off that nasty ground,” mumbled the head.
“How?” Searon asked, astonished.
“I won’t be here for long before I pass to the next world. I thought I might share one last piece of advice with you before I pass.”
“You … advice?”
“I am the sparkle you never see. The insect you cannot catch. My blood is both life and death; without it some will die, and with it some will never truly live. What am I?”
“A fool?” Searon asked.
“There is only one thing I desire more than anything, more than fruit and all that glitters. Fire cannot touch it, cannot defeat it—only make it. It is rarer than the purest gold and hidden in a cavern of growth. What do I desire?”
“What are you talking about?”
Karceoles’s eyes closed and his head moved no more. Although Searon didn’t know how much a talking head could move to start. He carried it over to the wizard’s body and laid it by his shoulders. After a long breath, he turned away and left his companion behind.
Chapter 50
Outside, everything appeared chaotic. The draeyks and daerions overran them. Even without the guidance of the warlock, they were still a dangerous threat. Searon assumed the necromancers were still alive, hidden amidst the chaos. Even though Searon defeated the warlock, it still seemed they would lose the city.
He tried to puzzle over the two riddles the wizard head murmured b
efore its eyes closed. His hands reached for his claymore. He began fighting as he considered all aspects of the words. He knew it would seem obvious to him if his head remained clear. There were so many new things he had learned in the last hours that still baffled him. His thoughts clouded in a swirl of confusion.
Suddenly it dawned on him as he pondered the question of who he truly was. Blood, both life and death; without it some will die, and with it some will never truly live. He continued repeating the same verse in his head over and over.
“It is I. I am the example. Without the faerie blood, my mother, and therefore I, would have died. I haven’t truly lived until now—the faerie magic suppressed the wizard magic. The riddle is obvious: a faerie.”
The draeyk he fought looked confused with his ramblings. Searon blocked another strike of an axe before beheading the reptile. He knew the faeries said they would not help unless Searon found what they truly desired. They seemed to think he had it to give. Karceoles seemed to be trying to tell him with riddles.
“Stupid wizard, even at the end he still talks in circles,” Searon muttered as he found a daerion to face.
He found Andron struggling to keep a few draeyks at bay with the short sword in his left hand. His fighting style was sloppy, and it was obvious he struggled to use his left arm. Searon stood alongside him and together they were able to overcome opponents with relative ease.
Fire cannot touch it, cannot defeat it—only make it. Whatever the object was, it seemed to be made of fire, which could be any type of stone or gem. He’d never seen fire destroy a diamond or other gems. Metal would melt to fire and so that couldn’t be it. Rarer than gold. Diamonds were the most common gem in the land of Calthoria; therefore, they could not be the answer. Hidden in a cavern of growth. Searon thought about the last line long and hard.
The answer struck him so hard and suddenly. It felt like an avalanche of his favorite pipe tobacco collapsed on top of him. He turned to Andron and grinned so deep his cheeks began to hurt from his dimples. Andron only looked back in utter confusion.
The Obsidian Arrow Page 25