by Pedro Urvi
Iruki screamed.
Yakumo seemed to hesitate an instant. Then with incredible poise, while spider and snake carried out their final attack, he threw something on the ground. A cloud of black smoke took his place. The spider failed in her deadly descent and the snake bit only dust.
Yakumo reappeared behind the snake Assassin and drove both daggers into his back. He pulled them out and let the body fall. A red flash enveloped him and he leapt back into the smoke.
Iruki watched all this on the verge of hysteria, powerless. She tried to free herself to enter the darkness and help the man she loved, but the Sorcerer held her fast, forcing her to remain on her knees in front of him.
“Stay still, you dirty savage!” he said. He pressed his knee against her back. “I want to see how this duel of Assassins ends.”
Another figure emerged from the smoke.
It was the Dark Assassin.
Iruki felt her heart stop beating.
The Dark Assassin took two steps towards her. He stopped, threw his head back strangely and blood gushed from his throat. He raised both hands to the wound and fell dead.
A moment later Yakumo reappeared. His face was so pale he looked as though all the blood in his body had been drained. The throwing-dagger was buried in his shoulder and a dreadful cut in his chest was bleeding profusely. He took a step towards Iruki, stretched out his arms to her and fell to his knees.
“Yakumo!” Iruki cried.
“A great combat, such as I have not witnessed for a long time,” Narmos said. “You have achieved true prowess, traitor. But now the time has come to end this.”
Pointing with his axe at the lifeless bodies of the two dark Assassins, Narmos spoke a long and evil utterance of power. The ruby-eyed skull in his hand shone with the black of death. An evil blackness covered the bodies of the dead Assassins and before Iruki’s astonished eyes, they rose to their feet, coming back to life from the dead.
“Oh Mother Steppe, protect us!” Iruki prayed, in total horror at this violation of the laws of Mother Nature.
“Necromancy!” Lasgol cried from the ground where he had just recovered consciousness.
The Tracker’s face was purple, his eyes and lips swollen, and two white locks decorated his blond hair now. With a tremendous effort, he stood up and took back his swords.
“Help him, please!” Kayti begged.
Lasgol tried to launch himself forward against the living-dead, but his legs were partly useless from the attacks of the snake. He was not going to reach him on time; the monsters were already on top of the defeated Yakumo. Lasgol used his Gift to help his legs. With a grunt, hungry for flesh, the living-dead monsters attacked. Yakumo, on his knees, his strength exhausted, plunged both daggers in the chest of the un-dead coming at him. But instead of stopping, it fell upon him, seeking to feed its voracious appetite. Despite his exhaustion he struggled to get it off, but after it came the second one. The living-dead Assassin fell on Yakumo and with a terrible bite, tore flesh out of Yakumo’s neck severing his left carotid.
“Noooooooooo!” Iruki yelled.
Lasgol reached the first monster and cut off its head with a clean stroke. The living-dead collapsed. Then he saw to his horror that the second was tearing Yakumo’s neck. With a thrust of his knife he pierced the skull, and the un-dead ceased to exist. He kicked it aside and watched in despair as life ebbed from Yakumo’s body.
“Damned Norghanian!” Narmos cried, and began to cast a spell on Lasgol with dark words of power.
Iruki, mad with sorrow, rose abruptly and hit Narmos on the chin with her head with such force that the Sorcerer’s mask flew off his face, along with part of his tongue.
Lasgol seized his opportunity and threw himself on the Sorcerer. Narmos struggled to his feet in panic and tried to conjure.
“Without your tongue you can’t work magic, Sorcerer,” Lasgol said. He pushed the silver axe aside with his sword. Narmos opened his mouth, but only blood came out.
“To the abyss with you!” Lasgol said, and pierced his heart with a powerful thrust of his sword.
Iruki crawled to her beloved and lay beside him. She desperately wanted to hold him, but her hands were still tied behind her. Their eyes met, and she smiled at him through her tears.
“Yakumo, my love,” she muttered, then burst into disconsolate weeping.
“Iruki… my light…” he muttered.
“Don’t leave me…”
“My heart… is full with joy… at having met you… loved you, my light, my sun.”
“I love you with all my being,” Iruki said in an agony of sorrow. Sobs caught in her throat and she could barely breathe.
“Don’t cry, Iruki my love, I die happy, for I have found joy…when I never thought I could… when my black soul sought to end its empty existence…”
Lasgol came up to them and hastened to cut her bonds.
Iruki put her hands on the terrible wound, trying to stop the flow of blood, even though she knew it was hopeless.
“You taught me to hope… even those of us who don’t deserve it… that redemption is possible… that love is…” Yakumo said between bouts of coughing blood. “I never thought I could be redeemed… but now, seeing you alive, I know I did it. My… soul isn’t black any longer… your light… has saved me…”
“My love…”
“Lasgol…” Yakumo called.
“Here I am, my friend,” said the Tracker, standing where Yakumo could see him.
“Remember… remember your promise…”
Lasgol looked Yakumo in the eyes.
“I gave you my word, I’ll keep it. I’ll take care of Iruki and protect her. Your wishes will be honored. You have my word.”
“Thank you… friend… I trust your honor…”
“Don’t leave me…” Iruki sobbed.
“You’ve redeemed me, I’ve known true love… be happy for me, what else could I ask for… Live, Iruki… ride again on your beloved steppes… I swear I die happy…”
The light went out of Yakumo’s eyes, and the deepest sorrow came over Iruki’s soul and heart.
She cried to the heavens, and her heart broke into a thousand lacerating fragments.
The pain was so intense she thought her chest would burst and she too would die. Tears flowed down her cheeks. Her love, her life, her future were gone forever. The pain was such that each tear bored a hole in her heart as though a blade of hot iron had been driven into it. She wept and wept, but her soul’s sorrow was so intense that she felt she would lose her mind.
“Yakumo!” she screamed with such abandonment that Mother Steppe herself felt her daughter’s searing suffering.
Ilenian Power
Above the gate, Komir was struggling to help Haradin. The Mage was still trapped in the sinister prison Isuzeni had conjured and which was robbing him of life. Haradin was fighting not to perish, but he could not break free, and with every moment he was being drained of life.
The powerful wall of fire the Mage had raised was beginning to die down, and with it Komir’s hope. He glanced down at his medallion and then at the profane circle with the macabre skull sealed on the ground where Haradin struggled. He tried to grab the Mage and pull him out of that esoteric trap, but when he reached out his hand it met a sinister barrier. The circle formed an impenetrable prison.
He looked at Sonea in search of help.
“How can I free him? What can I do?”
“I don’t know, Komir, but if we don’t get him out of there we’re lost. The enemy hosts will crush us.”
At that moment the barrier of fire which held back the enemy advance died out completely.
“Prepare for the attack!” cried Warrior Master Gudin in the center of the line of Norriel warriors below the gate.
The war-cries of the Norriel filled the air.
“We have to break through the barrier that’s keeping him trapped,” Sonea said.
Komir nodded. “But how? It seems unbreakable.”
He closed his eyes. “I’ll try using the medallion,” he said. Attack the barrier, he ordered the medallion. A translucent flash shot out of the jewel and struck the prison of death. He saw that little by little, the beam appeared to be weakening the enemy barrier and cutting into it.
Sonea could see the skull sucking the life out of the Mage. “It’s going to take too long,” she said. “Haradin will have died by the time you manage it.”
“Can you think of anything else?”
Sonea put her hand on her chin to think. “An arcane barrier…” she mused. “How would you penetrate an arcane barrier? Yes… how?” She looked at Haradin, then at Komir. “I have it!” she cried with a little jump of joy. “Magic cuts magic, barrier cuts barrier. That must be the way. Use your barrier, Komir.”
The Norriel stared at her, not fully understanding what the clever Librarian was suggesting, but he followed her advice. Medallion, tear and penetrate this evil barrier with my own, he ordered. Symbols, already familiar even if unintelligible, filled his mind. He knew the Ilenian Medallion of Ether was casting a spell. His own protective sphere changed color and turned silvery. He moved towards Haradin determinedly, and the silver sphere cut the barrier which imprisoned the Mage like a sharp knife. Komir penetrated inside the trap and reached Haradin. The Mage looked completely drained, on the brink of collapse.
Komir put his arm around him. ““Don’t move. I’ll get you out of here.”
He made sure the mage was inside the protection of his silver sphere, then with extreme care he retraced his steps, bringing the Mage with him. The sphere cut through the trap once again, and they both made their way out.
Haradin collapsed on to the ground, exhausted, unable even to speak. He was white as snow, and there were purple circles under his grey eyes to bear witness to his terrible struggle for survival.
The clamor of the battle drew Komir’s eyes to the front lines. The black tide was attacking, and the defenders were too few to be able to withstand it.
“They’re attacking! Hold fast!” came Warrior Master Gudin’s voice.
Komir watched the defenders retreating. There was no way of containing that weight of numbers. They were being pushed back inside. Soon they would be overwhelmed.
“Haradin, we have to do something! They’re going to swallow us!”
The Mage got to his feet with difficulty, leaning on his staff of power.
“I’m… exhausted… and I’ve used up almost all my magical energy…”
Hearing this, Komir realized they were doomed. Without the power of the great Mage, nothing would stop the enemy forces from annihilating them. He did not want to give way to pessimism, but the situation was out of control. And if the situation was desperate at the great gate of the city, how would it be at the two weak points? Would they hold?
The reply came quickly enough.
From the western side, he saw the last surviving Rogdonian soldiers arrive, withdrawing before the enemy pressure. The enemy had managed to breach the wall. The defenders were retreating in an orderly fashion to the gate, toward him. Beyond them he could see the black swarm pouring through the hole in the wall, chasing the soldiers, seeking to kill the last defenders. When they had come close enough he recognized a face among them, and his heart rejoiced.
“Aliana!” was all he could say as he saw her arriving with Asti.
Their faces showed intense pain and sorrow. Komir had no doubt that something terrible had happened. A little further back, two soldiers were supporting Gerart with their shoulders. He looked badly wounded. Something had gone wrong, very wrong. They reached the Norriel fighting beneath the gate, and formed a line to defend the flank from the black soldiers who were pursuing them ruthlessly.
Komir glanced behind him at the higher section of the city in ruins, and for a moment he thought of seizing Aliana’s hand and taking her to safety. The Healer came up the stairs to the gate and looked him in the eyes. She did not say anything, but simply took his hand. Komir knew she would never leave her companions, that she was asking him to stay with her in that fateful final moment when everything was falling around them, when the situation was turning impossible. Komir nodded. He would stay with her, not only then, but always, if she so asked. He thanked the three Norriel Goddesses that he had been lucky enough to meet this wonderful woman whose mere presence filled him with courage. She had made him a better man, and he loved her for it. He would fight to the death, with his people, and die beside the woman he loved with his heart and soul.
“Komir, look!” Aliana cried suddenly.
Komir turned, and his spirits sank. From the east they watched the arrival of the last Norriel, who had been defending the opening in the wall. The black army was in pursuit, and already entering the city.
“Both defenses have fallen,” he whispered. His warrior’s soul had hoped that his fellow-countrymen would hold the eastern side, but it was an impossible mission and he knew it. Only the gate was left, and it was on the point of falling.
The Norriel formed a line beside them, preparing to hold the flank.
“Form a circle!” Master Gudin ordered. “Closed formation! They’ll come through the gate and go for the two flanks! Hold fast!”
The circle began to form on Gudin’s orders, a circle of iron and steel to confront the final attack.
Suddenly three figures emerged at a run from among the ruined buildings of the lower city. A hundred enemy soldiers were pursuing them closely. Komir could not believe his eyes when he recognized them.
“It can’t be…”
Iruki and Kayti, together with the Norghanian Tracker, were running for their lives towards them.
“Hurry up! By the Goddesses, run!” Komir shouted.
“Run! They’re almost on top of you!” Aliana cried.
The three fugitives reached them an instant before the defenders finished closing their defensive circle. The hundred pursuers crashed against the wall of defenders, who dealt with them in the blink of an eye. The three reached Komir above the gate, then collapsed on to the ground, panting and speechless.
Komir took stock of the situation. They were surrounded by a dark sea of enemies: a small island in the center with no way out. Above the gate, the Bearers and Haradin, and with them Gerart, Hartz and Kayti; at their feet, the steel circle of the Norriel; and the last Rogdonians, surrounded by enemies in every direction.
“Defend the gate! Don’t let them take it!” Gudin ordered.
The hosts of evil were pressing harder, and harder. All the lower part of the city was a black sea now. Their victory was inevitable. The defensive circle contracted, but did not break. To the rhythm of the ominous war drums, the black sea pressed on again, and the circle contracted still further. They would not be able to hold out much longer.
“Hartz, sweetheart!” Kayti cried when she recovered and saw the big Norriel lying on the ground. She ran to him, full of concern.
Komir’s gaze turned to his companions. Iruki was sitting on the parapet with her back against the wall, her gaze lost in the distance. She looked as if she were somewhere far away, deep in her sorrow. She gazed at the sky with lifeless eyes, as if her soul had been wrenched out of her, and with it her reason. Asti was sitting on the ground, huddled like a frightened doe, unable to stop weeping. Komir felt deep sadness and pain emanating from the young Usik. Aliana herself, who was tending Gerart’s wounds, seemed overcome by the circumstances. Seeing them all in that state, with the black army about to strike them, Komir knew they were defeated. They were all going to die. And at that moment, the fury that had been guiding him wrongly towards revenge lit up and this time led him towards the true path, as if at last he had learnt the lesson of life which it had taken him so long to assimilate. It led him to hope, to life, leaving revenge and death behind.
“No! We’re not going to die here, my friends!” he said to his companions. “We’re going to live! We’ll defeat this evil!”
Everybody looked up and listened. Even Iruki came b
ack to herself for a moment.
“I know you’ve gone through hell. I can read it in your pale faces, in your sunken eyes, in your broken bodies. But that’s why we have to get up from here and fight to the last drop of blood. We can’t let ourselves be defeated, not now, as long as there’s breath left in us! We have to stand up! We have to fight! We have to live!”
His companions looked back at him in silence.
“Get up and fight with me! We’re never going to give up! Ever!”
Iruki stood up slowly, as if every move caused her unbearable pain. She raised her arm to the sky. With shining eyes she said:
“I’ll fight! For Yakumo! I’ll kill those gutless jackals, to the last of them! For my beloved! There’ll be no limit to my wrath! My fury will be as endless as my people’s prairies! My pain will guide me, and none of them will leave here alive! I swear it by the most sacred thing of all. I swear by Mother Steppe!”
Asti straightened, took a step forward and shouted above the din of the war drums:
“I fight too! For Kendas! Death! Death! Death all!”
And following the example of the two brave Bearers, the rest of the group raised their fists and shouted:
“Death! Death! Death!”
The enemy army charged from all directions, and the defensive circle was on the brink of collapsing.
“Hold the circle!” they heard Master Gudin say.
Haradin inhaled deeply. Letting the air out in a long healing breath, he came to stand among the Bearers.
“Your strength and courage are inspiring. Form a circle around me,” he said, and the five —Komir, Aliana, Iruki, Asti and Sonea— surrounded the Mage. “Hold hands and close your eyes, relax and concentrate. Think of the medallion each of you bears round his neck: Komir, Ether; Aliana, Earth; Iruki, Water; Asti, Fire; and Sonea, Air. Search inside for the pool of energy which feeds your innate Gift, and activate it. I need your energy, for my own is all spent. Let it flow, let it emanate from your bodies, through your medallions, to mine.”
Isolating themselves from the fierce battle taking place at their feet, oblivious to the imminent danger which could soon end their lives, the five concentrated and followed the great Mage’s instructions.