by Jeff Gunzel
The spiritists were more than holding their own, driving the unorganized creatures back with an awesome display of calculated power. Viola was thankful for that because she had no intention of joining in to help them. By the Moon Mistress’s strict orders, she was not even supposed to be here. But she had her own battle to face this day.
Flying low over the eastern portion of the town, Viola scanned the grounds below. Dead bodies littered the streets, both human and lerwick. Although she couldn’t see him, she could feel his vile energy. As much as she hated to admit it, there was undoubtedly a clear link between them. But this one time it just might prove to be useful. He was close. The taint was much like a rotting corpse, foul, pungent, and sour. It seemed to stain her very soul, and the closer she drew to the source, the easier it was to feel his vile presence.
Now beyond the town boarders, she scanned the rocky terrain below. He was down there somewhere, hiding, lurking. Suddenly her raven bucked, nearly throwing her from the saddle. She caught a glimpse of something silver protruding from the bird’s neck. With a sickly screech the raven pumped its wings, but each flap was more of a twitch than a push. Down they went as the dying bird went limp, its wings drifting straight up, quivering with the rush of air. Viola released the reins and pushed off, her body spinning in midair. She drifted down, settling on the rocky surface just outside the town. Reshaping, she looked up to see a familiar foe, still clutching the girl she’d seen in her vision.
“Let her go,” Viola hissed, her voice soft and dangerous, yet somehow it carried authority.
“As you wish,” Orm’rak said with a casual smile. With a twist, the girl’s neck cracked like brittle dried clay. With her face eternally frozen in a look of terror, he tossed her body aside. “So predictable you are, it almost takes all the fun out of it.” His smile widened, although he couldn’t help but notice the change in her demeanor since the last time they had faced each other. Those eyes were much different than he remembered. Those eyes had seen death and suffering. Viola glanced at the dead girl, her blonde hair covering most of her face as she lay there, twisted and broken.
“If I am truly so predictable, then why aren’t you frightened?” Viola sneered. Her heart ached for the innocent girl, but this was no time for grieving. “Not unlike my brother, I have proved to be most difficult to kill.” Orm’rak’s grin dropped away. “Even you have tried and failed once already.” Tauntingly slowly, her arms shifted into flesh blades, growing inch by inch as she glared at Orm’rak. “And I assure you, I am much more powerful than the last time we met.”
“I do not doubt your claim,” Orm’rak admitted, motioning back behind him. Hidden lerwicks began to creep from the shadows. Slithering out like snakes, they crept up from behind boulders and dried bushes. “I’m not here to test myself or gauge my skill against one such as you. I truly don’t even know what you are. All I care about is watching you die.” He snapped his fingers. Like a stampede of wild animals, the lerwicks rushed her.
* * *
With his full weight propelled by his blazing speed, Jarlen hammered straight into Owen’s chest. The collision stunned them both, even causing Jarlen to stumble back a step. Expecting to tear right through the human like a cloth, he found the it was more like hitting a solid tree. Recovering quickly, though, Jarlen shook his head with a growl and charged the hunter again. This time he got Owen moving backward, his feet digging trenches across sand as he slid. Owen was stronger than nearly any human alive, but Jarlen was no human, and the physical difference between them had already become apparent.
Gaining speed, the two warriors crashed through a door and into someone’s home. Able to still maintain much of his momentum, Jarlen drove the hunter across the front room and directly into the far wall. Owen wheezed from the jarring blow, the wall partially caving in at his back. A flash of white light followed as Jarlen drove a right hand into the hunter’s jaw, further denting the wall behind him with the back of his head.
But Owen came right back, slamming his forehead into Jarlen’s nose. Stunned, the lerwick stumbled back a step. How could this mere human have taken a full-on strike and still be conscious, let alone have the ability to strike back at him with such accuracy? Having lost his sword in the initial attack, all Owen had now were his fists. He dropped down, smashing his elbow into Jarlen’s kneecap.
The explosion of pain forced Jarlen to hobble back again. Limping, angry, he lashed out with his flesh blades, seeking to cut the troublesome human in half. Owen ducked the first, then rolled under the second. Rising up from the roll, he delivered a vicious uppercut to Jarlen’s jaw that lifted the lerwick off his feet. Jarlen landed on a nearby table, smashing it to pieces as he fell through. Shaking off the hard blow, Jarlen rolled off the broken wood just as a flurry of daggers peppered the tabletop.
It was embarrassing that a human was giving him such a hard time. But the hunter had a reputation, and right now he was living up to it. Enraged, Jarlen exploded into a flurry of strikes, his flesh blades slashing and stabbing wildly with reckless intent. Owen moved like a snake with no bones, his body twisting and dodging, each strike narrowly missing its mark. Meanwhile, the wall behind him was getting torn to shreds, each piercing gash letting in a ray of sunlight.
With a creaking groan, the house began to shift and sway. For an instant, the reality of the situation hit as both warriors stopped and looked up. Crackling like a tree getting torn in half, the rickety structure came down on both of them. Dust rose up from the destroyed structure, followed by an eerie silence. It was as if neither of them were ever there.
A thunderous crash hit the front gates, causing the chains and locks to rattle from the force. The crash was so loud that it caused many already engaged in battle to halt, wondering what could have possibly made such an impact. What sounded like a stomping sound moved up the outer wall, causing many to move away from the gate. A gurgling screech rang out just before a bony, plated head rose up over the wall. Crooked, twisted horns flailed out in all directions, evidence of the beast’s countless battles. Razor-sharp claws crunched into the wall as it climbed up over the top. Searching for the master who had summoned it, Owen’s mighty lavics looked none too pleased.
It leapt down from the top of the wall, its muscles rippling beneath its black and gold striped fur. Landing with a solid thud, it eyed the battle raging on. Those nearby, both human and lerwick alike, hurried away to put as much distance between themselves and this beast as possible. Clawing the ground a few times like a bull, it let out a deafening roar before charging through a nearby pack of lerwicks. Many whirled up and away to barely avoid the rampaging beast, but others were not so quick and found themselves impaled on its bony head.
The destroyed pile of rubble which was once a home began to twitch and shift, the entire roof pulsing up and down like a beating heart. With a crackling snap, a set of bulging arms burst up through the tile roof. Bloody, battered, and covered with dust, Owen rose from the debris. Wobbling where he stood, he shook his head like a dog and slapped the sides of his face several times. His body burned from head to toe, his ears ringing with a constant whistling. But other than that he was on his feet and ready to go. Some men were just too tough for their own good.
After a few uneasy steps, he managed to break into a dead run and went straight for his lavics. The beast dropped down on its front legs and cooed, eager to please the master it had not seen in so long. “That a girl,” Owen said, climbing up into the saddle. He patted the back of her bony plate with a hollow thumping sound. “I missed you too.” He glanced back and saw the rubble move again, and this time it was Jarlen who erupted from the ruins, his flesh blades carving and slashing to break free. “We just got one more thing we need to finish,” Owen grumbled, turning his beast around.
Owen rolled his shoulders, sending his crossbows clacking down the sides of his arms, then auto-locking to each wrist. Unsteady on his feet, Jarlen shook his head in disbelief when he saw the hunter mounted and ready for battle. You�
�re not even human, he thought.
Run, you little maggot, Owen mouthed silently, his lips curled back in a toothless grin.
Rotors spinning and clacking, Owen swept his arms across the area as a torrent of orange projectiles were expelled from his weapons. Jarlen zipped away just before the flurry of energy decimated the remaining rubble. With a guttural howl, the lavics took off after him. Using his unnatural speed, Jarlen raced towards the side of the wall and ran along its base. But to his horror, he could hear the heavy stomps of Owen’s beast right on his tail.
Daring to look back, he saw the hunter and his mount racing towards him. They were not on the ground, but actually galloping sideways along the wall. Claws crunching into the stone with every step, the lavics was somehow able to defy gravity altogether while speeding his master towards the target. Looking at Jarlen from a sideways view, Owen leveled his weapons again and released another spray of destruction.
Leaping away from the scattered projectiles, Jarlen whirled up to the nearest rooftop. He turned to look briefly before launching himself out of harm’s way yet again. Just missing her target, the lavics landed on the rooftop as tiles cracked, the roof buckling under her and Owen’s weight. But she didn’t stay long. Bounding like a rabbit, she leapt from roof to roof, each time just missing Jarlen by only a few feet. As fast as he was, the lavics was also shockingly quick and nimble.
“Where ye going?!” Owen shouted, leveling his crossbows again. He unleashed, the orange projectiles blasting away at rock and tile as Jarlen leapt from rooftop to rooftop to evade the onslaught. “Come back and fight like a man!”
This is impossible, Jarlen thought, running for his life. Sure, this was the famed Demon Hunter he was facing off against. But he was still only a human. Just a human! How could this be? How could one man display such a show of strength and resilience? This inhuman thing had not only kept him on the run, but had distracted him long enough that he could not properly lead the attack on Shadowfen. The lerwicks were not trained well enough to be on their own for this long. Curse you. You’ve ruined everything!
Seeing no other choice, Jarlen bounded across the remaining rooftops and raced straight for the far wall. He leapt, his shifting body spinning up and up. “Oh no you don’t,” Owen snarled, halting his charging beast just so he could take careful aim. “We’re not done yet!” Rotors clacking, he unleashed another wave. Projectiles hammered the wall, taking large bites out of solid stone while turning it to dust. Two birds from the whirling funnel practically disintegrated when they were hit.
Jarlen reformed on top of the wall, gripping his torn shoulder as blood seeped through his fingers. He glanced back, casting a final sneer at Owen, who only smiled back. Had his mechanical crossbow not been overheated, he would have sent back more than a grin. As Jarlen disappeared over the other side, lerwicks began following suit. Seeing their leader flee for his life did nothing to raise their morale. The humans had proven themselves to be capable fighters, and with their leader long gone, they weren’t going to stick around any longer.
Liam spun this way and that as flames shot from the mouth of his staff. Lerwicks he hadn’t already burned to a crisp were starting to flee, several spinning up and over the wall. With their leader nowhere to be seen, the invading creatures were in full retreat. It appeared they had won the day. The citizens of Shadowfen were safe for the time being, at least.
But the seasoned mystic did not yet feel at ease. Something wasn’t quite right. An uneasiness buzzed in the back of his mind, and he had learned long ago to trust his instincts. His sense of alarm peaking, he whirled back suddenly, his staff intercepting the ball of shadow energy hurled at him from behind. He caught a fleeting glimpse of Diovok, his staff pointed directly at him before the world suddenly went dark.
Standing alone in pitch-blackness, Liam muttered a single word while raising his staff. The goat head creaked, its mouth opening wide as a glowing blue sphere levitated up and hovered overhead. Normally plenty bright by any standard, it should have illuminated the entire area. Yet its light seemed dim and faint this time, swallowed up by the infinite blackness that seemed to go on for eternity. With the limited light, Liam looked around but could see nothing, no walls, ceiling, or even a floor beneath his feet. He was...nowhere, but the old mystic still recognized this place for what it was.
“I know you are here,” Liam shouted, walking with his glowing sphere following him along as it floated overhead. His voice came back at him in a series of hissing whispers. He knew he was in the netherworld, a place trapped in time between the worlds of the living and the dead. Only a powerful shaman could have transported him here, but he could not have left, either. In order to maintain such a power-hungry spell, the shaman had to still be here somewhere.
“You think I am frightened of such a place?” Liam asked, moving along carefully. Surrounded by the seemingly endless blackness, he couldn’t even see his own feet. “You will have to do better than this. The king told you to kill me, I assume? Is that why we are here in the abyss of the dead? Is this what we’ve become, shaman, once great men of the arcane arts, now reduced to murdering thugs? I would have thought you a better man than this, but it seems I was mistaken.”
Something flapped in front of Liam’s face, its leathery wings brushing against him before it disappeared. Moans of the dead echoed through the darkness, their trapped souls crying out in agony and despair. Damned to an eternal existence trapped in this shadowy dream world, he could feel their torment right down to his bones with every screeching wail.
“Enough of your game, coward!” Liam said, turning about as his own voice seemed to wash back over him, a hissing, distorted version he could no longer recognize as his own. It was as if the dead were mocking him. “Show yourself! If a man of magic has truly been reduced to nothing more than the king’s pet, then stop hiding in shadows and face me. I demand that you—”
As his head jerked back, a sword tip erupted from Liam’s chest. Hand clasped over his forehead, the red giant leaned into the dying man’s ear from behind. “I do not, nor do I care to represent your kind, mystic,” he said, a gravelly whisper of a voice that seemed to echo from far away from behind his mask. “Power means more to me than honor, a lesson that has obviously been wasted on an old fool such as yourself. Now sleep for eternity.”
Liam’s face twitched, his eyes rolling up into his head as blood ran freely from his chest. Suddenly, his body seemed to burst, collapsing in on itself like a dry husk many centuries old. It crumbled to dust right in Diovok’s arms. Confused, stunned, the red giant looked at his hands coated with dust, a pile of steaming soot collected near his feet. “Wha—”
Diovok’s body lurched, his head falling straight back as a sword blade burst through his chest. Holding the shaman around his neck, Liam leaned up from behind and whispered in his ear. “You are not the only master of illusion, shaman. A vile creature such as you shall never know peace, not even in the afterlife. May you pay for your sins a thousand times over.” Liam twisted the blade, sending a final wave of shudders through the giant’s body. Instantly, the darkness seemed to dissipate like fog being blown away by a high wind. He found himself lying on the ground looking up at a familiar face.
“Would ye snap out of it already,” Owen said, alternating between snapping his fingers and slapping Liam’s cheeks. “Wake up! We got no time for this.” Liam sat up, groggy, as if he had been sleeping for twelve hours. He looked over and saw the red giant lying on the ground beside him, motionless. His body displayed no apparent wounds, but Liam knew he was dead. “I know ye did that somehow, but you can explain it to me later. Right now we got to get out of here.”
“Where are the others?” Liam asked sleepily. He sounded as if he might actually yawn. Then he noticed the many sets of eyes fixed on them. It looked as if the whole Shadowfen army was watching them with their weapons still drawn. Owen’s lavics held them at bay, snarling while scraping her front claws across the ground, looking as if she might charge t
hem at any moment.
“They’ve turned on us,” Owen said calmly. “Like I said, we’ve got to get out of here.”
A short distance away, Assirra finally found what she had been looking for after combing the battlefield for what seemed like forever. The dead were everywhere, both human and lerwick. But despite being surrounded by so much death, she hardly seemed to notice that at all.
“Thatra!” she cried out, seeing the warrior splayed out on the ground. She ran over to her and dropped to one knee, touching a hand to her forehead. Her shoulder was gashed wide open, along with countless other wounds. Her panting breaths were quick and shallow. She had obviously lost a lot of blood. “I’m here. I’m here,” Assirra said in a rush, trying not to burst into tears. “I’m going to save you. It’s not too late. It’s not too late.”
Shaking her head, disgusted by her own babbling, she lay her hands on Thatra’s chest and reached out to Odao. Normally she could feel his peaceful presence flowing through her, but once again she felt nothing. “No, no, no,” she muttered, panic rising in her chest. “You must not abandon me, Odao. You cannot abandon her! I’m begging you, Thatra is my most loyal subject. Send me your power, your grace, your love. Afterward I shall do whatever you wish, even if that wish requires me to sacrifice myself in your name. Just please help her!”
“Save yourself,” came a breathy voice from below. It didn’t even sound like Thatra, but it was. Using the last of her strength to speak, she rolled her head towards Assirra. “You must get out of here. Forget about me.”
“I will do no such thing,” Assirra blurted out, rising to her feet as she began tugging on Thatra’s arm. She knew there was no way she could move the warrior, but she still had to try. “You’re coming with us. We’ll find a way to—”
“It’s too late for me,” Thatra wheezed, her breaths coming in slow, labored gasps. “I have no regrets. It was an honor to serve you, High Cleric. May Odao smile upon us both.” Her chest deflated, head rolling back as her lifeless eyes looked up at the sky. After all she had been through, even after giving up her own life, she still wore a smile on her face. Passing away at the feet of the High Cleric was the greatest honor she could have hoped for.