“Yes Sire?” came the elf’s voice from over his right shoulder.
His eyes caught sight of another body falling near the west wall and he almost felt the crunch when it hit the ground. “Find a runner and order the archers to find whatever’s doing that and bring them down. Send another to Brasten and have him double the watch on the walls, this might be a distraction from an imminent attack.”
He felt the aide dodge away and Bendor was cursing by his side. He was trying to peer through the rail posts at what was going on, but wasn’t having much luck.
“Are we under attack?” Bordin asked, his smile finally lost as the elder elf searched the skies.
“Serix,” he bellowed, eyes searching for the mage.
Tar Reiz had already turned from the group and was in a whispered conversation with one of the Elf druids that had accompanied him.
“Yes?” asked the mage, stepping into view. His eyes darted between him and another body arcing down on the city and though it was an upsetting sight, the man’s face appeared calm.
“What magic is this? Are they undead?” he asked, not bothering to answer Jenna’s unspoken question.
A loud screech pierced the air and he jerked his head in that direction. Something was flying at him and he felt arms grip him, forcing him to the ground. He hit the ground hard, his head striking the concrete. His breath went out of him in a rush. Then an object impacted his stomach, forcing a grunt out of him in response. He looked into the sky and just visible over the rail was a winged goblin, teeth barred, claws clenching, and laughter dancing in its eyes.
An arrow pierced the creature’s shoulder and it screamed in rage as it was flung back and out of sight.
“Captain, you can get off me,” he moaned to the man holding him down.
He could feel something heavy on his chest and he hadn’t been able to move enough to find out what it was. Jenna looked down at him and screamed.
Forcing himself to a sitting position, he felt the weight shift and roll between his legs. A severed head lay there, dead eyes peering up at him. It was human and looked to be one of the cavalry they’d lost earlier that afternoon. He kicked his feet and pushed himself back. One of the Guardians swept in and took the head in hand and out of sight.
Jenna was in her father’s arms and she had a look of embarrassment mixed with fright.
He got to his feet, flanked on both sides by Guardians, Captain Reyes standing before him watching the skies. “Serix!” he bellowed in the direction the mage had been.
“King John, there’s no magic at work, they are just corpses,” Tar Reiz told him as he broke from his companion and addressed him.
“Just corpses?” Bordin asked, horrified. “Is that not enough?”
He didn’t have time for this. “General Cox! Go see to your men and make sure the archers are bringing those bastards down!”
The younger general was standing in the doorway, standing apart from the rest, and hesitated under his King’s glare. Then he shifted backwards and took off in a run.
Bendor was gruffly barking out orders, but his words were slurring. He was in no shape to command this night. “General Firefist—,” John began, intending to dismiss the raging dwarf.
“Dornt e’en hink abit it, laddie,” the general growled. “Ah haven’t hud nearly bevvy enaw yit.” It was obvious his short companion had missed that he was already jumbling his words, but his eyes were defiant, taunting John to say something about it.
Serix was standing near the railing, eyes following something. Muttering something under his breath, the mage reached out and sent a white light arcing across the sky. John’s eyes followed its path and watched in fascination as it struck a winged goblin that had been coming their way, a torso in hand. With a terrifying scream, the goblin was consumed by the light, its skin beginning to melt, the wings catching fire. In agony, it let go of the torso it had been holding and dropped from sight. Moments later there were two sickening thuds from below.
A druid had gone to the man’s side, and together they searched for their next target.
He went back to the railing and watched as other flashes of light went up around the castle grounds, arcing into the sky. “When I arrived, I ordered my druids to patrol the walls,” Tar Reiz said from his left. Jenna had retreated back into the hall with her father and the knight was standing in their place, eyes on the sky.
“Sire, I think it’s best if I give the soldiers a hand retrieving the bodies,” Roland told him grimly from his right.
He nodded, knowing that it was the general’s men being flung down upon them, and that the man wanted to see them properly handled. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, trying to convey sympathy for the man, who’d begun to turn away. He thought he saw tears at the corner of his general’s eyes as the man nodded slowly, then moved out of the veranda, and disappeared from sight.
The skies had become quiet and the arcing lights of magic came to a slow halt. He looked upon the town and noticed how eerily quiet it had become. The laughter and music had ceased and only the periodic shouts of soldiers clearing the streets pierced the new imposed silence.
The party was over.
IV
Merlin took a step forward, his staff gripped tightly in one hand, digging into the sand and pulling him along. Kore moved to stand in front of him, his axe ready to go to work, but the orc’s grip was loose, his arm tired. They were both too exhausted to fight, and though they would if they had too, neither were eager for it.
He drew closer to the specter in black, warily watching the black cloak reaching out to them, as if hungry to consume their souls. The hood shrouded the figure’s face and he had his back to the rising moon. He could feel the eyes penetrating him, thoroughly scouring his whole being. He fought down the fear that was creeping under the surface; resolved to his fate.
Ten yards from Death, he came to a halt and held his staff before him, calling forth his magic and holding it ready in case it was needed. His eyes ran along the dark silhouette. The beast from hell was covered in black platemail, its cloak flowing greedily around it. He could see the creature’s snout and knew that it had formerly been a jackyl. The scythe was held at an angle, and had not moved as they approached. The creature had remained a silent sentinel, blocking their path.
I’m not here to fight you Ageless Stranger, a cold voice whispered within his head.
He hadn’t even felt the creature’s attempts to enter his mind and it staggered him that his defenses had been so easily penetrated. “Then why are you here?” he asked, not daring to let his own mind touch the other’s.
He thought he saw a grim smile crease the creature’s face. Wise decision. You would not like it in here. The souls of the dead and dying call to me, I cannot remain much longer.
Kore was weary on his feet, his axe dropping a bit. “Kore, go get your armor,” he told the exhausted warrior. Red eyes turned and glared at him, the defiance loud and clear. “I’ll be all right, I think. Just go get your armor. And take your time, no need to rush.”
As the other figure had yet to make an aggressive move, the orc finally relented and trudged away, dragging his axe.
Death turned and looked east, cold white eyes searching the horizon. Your servant has called upon the dead to walk, my Master heeded his call. There are more souls that require my attention, my time is short.
“Why are you here? You are one of the Phoenix’s Horsemen, why do you not attack?” he asked, curiously. He took another step forward, wanting to see the white furred beast more clearly, yet making sure that he stayed out of range of the slithering cloak that had begun to reach for him.
When she changed what this creature was, she ripped me from my plane and shoved me into this fleshly prison. You do not create Death. I am timeless, I am forever. She is powerful, but not enough to make me do her bidding. You and I know that I cannot kill you, but I will collect you eventually, a very long time from now. Yet, in the end, you will die as intended, for no one cheats de
ath. You are painfully aware of the consequences of trying to do so, the cloaked figure said, turning his gaze upon him.
A cold chill wracked his body. He was referring to Tristan and his father. Yes, he had known the consequences. True understanding dawned on him, the Reaper’s words finally unveiled. When the Phoenix had cast her spell, she had ripped the fabric between the spirit and flesh, capturing and imprisoning the actual Grim Reaper; Death, now in the flesh. This wasn’t just a facsimile; he was the real thing.
“What do you want of me?” he asked in awe.
You were born as you are, despite your assertions that your father cursed you to this existence. You did not fade from your mother’s arms because Damon wished it, but because you could not move forward in time, your demon biology asserting itself and pushing you backwards. It was a surprise to your father as well when you appeared in his arms. The spell he weaved was not a curse, but a blessing. He gave you the ability to see your future, the world’s past, so that you wouldn’t be a blithering idiot lost in time. Despite his origins, he was your father and his one act of love was to give you a future.
Merlin processed what he was being told. He had never considered— “That doesn’t tell me why you’re here.” He knew he shouldn’t be so pushy, that the creature before him could decide to kill him after all, and there’d be nothing he could do about it. But he just couldn’t help it.
The Phoenix is an abomination, a creature that should not exist. The sisters were supposed to cut her twine two thousand years ago, her life protected by the evil book in her possession. My Master grows impatient. He asked me to speak with you and to provide you with a gift, the Reaper said, moving forward for the first time.
He reflexively took a step back.
Do not fear, Death smirked, his teeth glittering in the moonlight. A hand rose and a sword came into view. This is the key that you seek.
Merlin stepped forward and took the offered weapon. The scabbard was covered in diamonds, dirt encrusting the runes engraved upon it. The hilt was old and cracked, his hand feeling the sand ingrained into the damaged leather. He took a step back, eyes focused on the blade as he slowly slid it free of its scabbard. The ground shook slightly below his feet as the polished steel glinted in the moonlight.
Richter.
The shaking had increased and he heard his companion behind him fall to the sand, the armor clanking as it impacted the ground. He slid the blade back into its scabbard and it immediately stopped. “Thank you,” he told the Reaper; not sure what else to say.
You would never have found it. She had it placed under the pyramid’s foundations to prevent it from ever being discovered. That is why you missed it the last time you were here. Now, I must be going, souls are lingering and I must see them to Charon for their final journey. His boats are heavily filled these days and the work unending. My Master wishes you luck and has ordered me to tell you that a friend will meet you in the morning. He offers this deer carcass as a gift of his appreciation, Death whispered to him, then was gone; as if he’d never existed.
On the sand, behind where the Reaper had been standing, was a dead stag.
Sword in hand, he looked to the east, silently sending a prayer of thanks to Hades for his assistance. They’d always worked at cross purposes, but it seems that now they had a common interest that briefly united their efforts; the death of the Phoenix. He didn’t truly understand why the Dark God would want to stop her, other than anger over the woman’s continued existence. Maybe he saw it as a threat to his own? Who truly knew how a God thought? What his motivations were? He should just be grateful and send a prayer of thanks.
He sighed. It did not matter what Hades’ true motives were, only that Merlin had what he had come for, and now they could leave. He wondered briefly what “friend” would be meeting them, but he was too exhausted to work it out.
“Come on Kore, let’s get some food on our stomachs,” he told his weary companion. The orc had just made it back to his side, and the strain on the tanned green face was hard not to wince at.
They moved over to where the dead stag lay, surprised to find it already cleaned, and only needing to be skinned. Kore took a long knife from his belt and went to work, while Merlin set about summoning them some water. They would need some wood and he looked at the pyramid towering overhead; he knew where he could find some.
“I’ll be right back,” he told Kore, who only nodded as he continued his work.
Two Sphinxes stood before the pyramid’s entrance, having been moved there from the Phoenix’s fortress when the monument had been completed. He had created them to guard the Book of the Dead; a purpose they had faithfully served for a thousand years before finally failing and letting a young girl named Rachel Emerick through. Now, weakened, they held silent vigil over the Phoenix’s tomb, reluctantly serving to protect the pyramid from raiders.
Welcome Merlin, their ancient voices greeted.
He nodded at them and made his way inside.
V
His bladder was interrupting his sleep and he opened his eyes to the night sky. The moon had begun to shrink, yet was still full enough to cast a strong white light upon the world. He felt Willow’s even breathing next to him as he rolled over, struggling to free his mind enough to get to his feet.
Glancing over, he felt a pair of eyes on him and met Melissa’s stare. She was sitting in front of a barely lit fire, watching his every move. “Where’s Reyna and Jared?” he asked sleepily as he crossed before her, intent on his purpose, yet noticing their absence.
“Went for more firewood. They should’ve been back by now,” she answered, looking east. Well, if they’d gone that way—he stepped towards the western part of their camp and entered its shadows.
As he finished relieving himself, he looked at the stars and wondered how his brother was doing. Was he even still alive?
The Earth began to shake beneath his feet. He rushed back towards the camp and heard the familiar sound of thundering hoofs coming their way. “What—?”
Melissa was on her feet and had begun to turn when the first of the horsemen swept into their camp. Green fire enveloped her hands and she was about to send her magic forth when a pommel came down and struck her in the head.
He dashed for his sword, which he’d left next to his bedroll, but several other riders rode forth and cut him off. He could see Willow getting to her feet between flashes of movement, and panic set in.
“Take them!” a voice ordered from behind the riders. The man that had attacked Melissa had reeled about and was hovering behind him.
“Whit th’ heel is thes?” he heard the gruff voice of the Dwarf. Sounds of a scuffle came from the direction of Token’s voice and he despaired over the silence that followed.
“How dare you?” he wheeled on the commander behind him. “I am—.”
“I don’t give a damn who you are. You are trespassing and stand accused of being enemy spies. Wrap them up,” the man ordered his men. Several had dismounted and were approaching his position. Willow had been hoisted onto a horse and appeared to be unconscious, her limp body being tied down like she was a saddlebag. Melissa was being taken as well.
Though he resisted, he was quickly overpowered. He fought them off, but being unarmed, his fist barely made a difference against his armored foes.
As he felt his hands bound, he looked to the left and saw another horse with the limp form of their ranger lying across its back. How did they get the drop on her? He thought of calling out to Reyna and Jared, but if they were out there, they were their only hope of being rescued, and he didn’t dare alert these villains to their presence.
A hand flashed in a downward angle and a sword slammed him across the head, knocking him out.
Chapter 5
Kershaw
I
Three days had passed since the bodies had fallen from the sky and John stood at the tower window, looking out upon the enemy encampment in the distance. “Why do they wait?”
Hi
s generals sat on benches around the table behind him, eyes on the model; discussions with Tar Reiz and Bordin over troop placements occupying their time. They’d all been shaken the other night, though none of them would admit it. The horror that he’d seen on his father-in-law’s face, when they explained what Serix had put in motion before dinner, mirrored his own soul. Yet, neither had been able to argue its use, especially after the grim affair that followed.
The bodies had been collected, the pieces reassembled and the pyres lit. They had suffered horribly, but he made sure that they got the funerals their heroic efforts deserved.
Bendor turned to look at him. “They ken we’ve got reinforcements an' their supply lines waur interrupted. Laddie, they’re probably lickin' their woonds an' searchin' fur scran.”
“They still outnumber us three-to-one. And after the other night—well, I’d thought they’d be eager to exact their vengeance,” he replied, breaking from the window and coming to join the others at the table.
“They already did,” Bordin said gravely, reminding him of the torn bodies that had rained upon the castle. The people were subdued, the short victory they’d enjoyed, ruined by the horrors of seeing their countrymen’s corpses being treated in that way.
He stared at the placement of the enemy forces; the scouts giving hourly reports and updates of troop movements. “They’re rebuilding their siege engines,” Roland told him, nodding to the enemy movements to the forests on the east and west sides of the castle. It was inevitable, really. Now that they couldn’t rely on numbers alone, they would try to break through their walls before mounting another assault.
“We should march out there and take the fight to them,” he stated, feeling emboldened by the reinforcements they’d received.
Tar Reiz was nodding, but the others didn’t look convinced.
“Laddie, nae offense, an' i’m sure 'at yer heart is in th' reit place, but it’s a bampot tae forsake uir a body advantage an' meit these vermin oan open grin. Withit th' walls tae protect us, we’ll be overrin an' decimated,” Bendor told him firmly, then turned as if dismissing him.
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