by Corey Soreff
The unfortunate victim’s friends gaped at Eucibous, not believing their powerful leader had just been disposed of with one strike. It registered in their minds, however, when they saw the attacker. They had been so self-absorbed in the corner they had not noticed the newcomers. They made the most rational decision and scattered out of the pub like fleeing rats.
Eucibous gazed into the eyes of the maiden before him. “Are you okay, m’lady?” He asked.
She returned his gaze with a smile. “I am just fine, thank you Sir. And you must be the Crimson Blade himself.”
Eucibous nodded, and then quickly turned around as his instincts warned him of danger. A moment later, a massive steel ball crashed through the front wall of the inn. The wall did not stop it though, and it continued on its deadly course straight towards Eucibous. Eucibous did not seem alarmed, and instantly readied a spell. But before he could cast anything, the sound of a harp filled the room, soothing all who heard it. The cannonball dropped harmlessly in midair several feet in front of Eucibous, surrounded by a pink aura. Through the hole in the wall, the mercenaries from earlier could be seen standing on the road with a large cannon in their wagon. As it dawned on them their attack had failed, they whipped their horses and began to ride away. Eucibous shrugged and turned back to the female.
The remarkable woman smirked at Eucibous. “You won’t get revenge?”
Eucibous returned the gesture. “No need.”
Before the wagon had gone far at all, they found the road blocked by Lok. He stood unnerved, his halberd ready in his hands.
The man who had assumed temporary leadership of the mercenaries yelled. “Do not slow! Go through him!” They tried to do exactly that. But Lok was not ready to become road kill. Lok began spinning his halberd in fast, vicious circles. As the wagon was about to collide with him, he put all his energy into one fast, powerful strike. He swung his halberd upwards, from the ground towards the sky. A sonic boom could be heard, as the halberd broke the sound barrier and parted the winds before it. A long stream of energy and wind shot forth from the weapon due to the sheer speed and strength in which the attack was performed, and tore the wagon to pieces. Two of the three remaining mercenaries were destroyed along with the wagon. The third was lying in the middle of the road, moaning in pain and disbelief.
Lok casually walked over to the man and looked down at him with pity. “You should have stayed gone the first time.” Then, without mercy, he plunged his halberd down through the man’s chest. Blood spurted out of his mouth, and moments later his heart ceased to beat. The body went limp.
The entire time, Eucibous stood matching the stare of the mysterious woman, never turning back to check on the safety of his friend.
She laughed merrily. “Your confidence in your team is great, worthy of your reputation.”
Eucibous did not laugh. “My confidence in myself is even greater. What magic do you wield, sorceress? I could sense your power the moment I entered the room. Your beauty captivates all who lay eyes on you, and you seem to have other skills as well.” He said as he gestured over to the cannonball. “Perhaps you thought to ensnare me with ease, but I am not one to be ensnared. Who are you?”
The smile faded from her lips. “You are a perceptive one, warrior. As I would expect from the strongest in Adanantus…no…perhaps the strongest on Darnesia. As you said, I have indeed come here to meet you. My name and identity shall remain unknown to you at this time, however. For now, you may call me Jyla.”
“What business do you have with me then, Jyla?” Eucibous asked.
She leaned forward to whisper in his ear, and he looked at the ground as he prepared to receive her words. Her breath tickled him, and his blood rushed throughout his veins. “Not all will be as it seems in Darnath. The liche will be there.” As she finished her sentence, he heard another note played from the harp.
His eyes opened in surprise and he looked back to the woman, but she was gone. She had vanished without a trace, along with the harp. In her place, a gigantic broadsword leaned against the wall, shining brightly with blessings from the heavens. “A cleric?” Eucibous wondered.
That same night, Eucibous was lying in bed, unable to sleep. Thoughts of both the mysterious woman and of Seth’nerak clouded his mind. Curiosity mingled with excitement. Questions assailed him, but he was also excited by the news of the upcoming clash with the Liche King.
Then the door to his room creaked open. It was dark in the room, but the figure standing in the doorway seemed to emit light. It was the woman from earlier.
“It seems you have too much energy,” she said quietly and seductively. “Allow me to help relieve you of some of it.”
The night was filled with passionate lovemaking, and the entire time, Eucibous could not shake the feeling that this female was not…normal.
She was gone in the morning.
Seth’nerak surveyed his armies as they were camped ten miles from Darnath. Normally scouts and outposts would have recognized their movement and the camp, but the Liche King had many powers available to him. He had cast a spell of gargantuan proportions to create a new mini dimension in the area. Travelers and scouts could march right through the area and not even be aware of the army’s presence. Whenever the Liche King desired, he would reopen the folds of time and space and deposit his forces back into reality; although to his army it seemed as if they never left Adanantus at all.
Commanders walked through the camp shouting orders and organizing legions. The legions worked in shifts, so some legions would train and keep watch while each one took turns resting. Goblins by the thousands were at work assembling catapults. Blacksmiths forged new weapons and repaired the old. Mages gathered in one area, also working in shifts. Seth’nerak had cast the advanced spell that hid them here, but when the Liche King left he would not be able to spare the energy needed to maintain the spell. So mages sat huddled in circles, lost in the fabrics of magic. Although no other mage in the Dark Legions was powerful enough to cast this spell, they could still donate their magic to sustain it once it’s in place.
Seth’nerak nodded at Marcovius. “All will soon be ready. Finally my abilities will know war.”
Marcovius kept a straight face, which was rare for the General. “Seth, be careful in Darnath. I don’t like that you’ll be alone until we march. I know there is no man that can defeat you; however, perhaps many strong men could prove difficult.”
The Liche King grinned. “My friend, all of Darnesia will kneel to me. And then the heavens will follow.”
The General gazed into the distance, in the direction of Darnath. Although they were not really there, they could still see everything as if they were. “Kill the crimson one first. Then it will be a smooth ride from there.”
“I fear no man. Eucibous Dan’anti will suffer, and then I shall raise his bones to serve me forever.” Seth’nerak replied. “That unpredictable fool is the cause of all my anguish.”
A moment later, a void in space appeared before them. Somebody had penetrated the spell. Marcovius instinctively drew his sword and stepped in front of his King. Seth’nerak simply stared at the void without interest, awaiting whoever it may be.
Sargath stepped out of the void, and the portal immediately shrunk and closed behind him. He looked around at the progress of the Dark Legions, and then focused his attention on his champion.
“Will everything be ready in time?” Sargath asked.
The Liche King glared at his deity, as if the answer should be obvious. Marcovius noted his friend’s frustration and decided to step in. “Great Sargath, all will be ready. Although it’s a shame we don’t have the drow.”
Sargath didn’t even glance at the General. “I wasn’t talking to you, human. And you will kneel when you address me.”
Marcovius fell to one knee and didn’t say another word.
“I trust my General more than I trust you, Sargath. His words are my own.” The liche calmly told him.
Sargath instantly seemed to to
wer over the two as his anger flooded the area with energy. “Since when do you deign to tell me who may address me?” His fists clenched as his eyes burned into his champion’s soul. “You border on disrespect!”
“And you border on annoyance.” Seth’nerak replied. “You come here asking a question you already know the answer to. The legions will march when I kill the crimson one, and Darnath will fall. All in your name. Now leave us.”
A slight chuckle could be heard escaping the mouth of Marcovius. He did not do it purposely, and cringed immediately.
The God’s body flashed, and suddenly seemed more solid rather than ethereal. Sargath lifted one arm and pointed his palm at the General, and all the energy that had been flooding throughout the camp from the God’s wrath began to compound into that small area in front of his palm. There was so much pure energy in one spot that it could clearly be seen as a swirling mass of power. “Let’s see how funny you think it is in the abyss.” The evil God released the energy, and it shot forth towards the General at an alarming speed. Dodging would have been utterly impossible…for the living at least.
The Liche King faded out of the realm of the living and instantly reappeared in front of his only friend. A rift in space opened in front of the liche, and the formidable attack of the God shot into the dimensional tear, disappearing within the infinite darkness. The rift closed, and Seth’nerak stared at his God with contempt.
“I will tell you this once, Sargath. I serve you now, but don’t you ever try to lay a hand on him again. You ask if everything is ready, and then you attempt to murder the General who will lead our armies to victory. He is the one person on Darnesia that I will not allow you to kill. Do you even ponder the results of your actions before you act? If you ever hurt Marcovius, I will drop the campaign and leave your service. Are we clear?” Ever since the Liche King had emerged from his long training in the folds of time, he had gotten infinitely more confident. He showed no sign of nervousness, and his resolve was clear to the God.
Sargath shook with fury. His champion was becoming volatile. This could develop into a problem. But for now, he planned to conquer Adanantus first. “I will forgive this folly on his part, this time. Let your friend know he is to respect his God.” The God then simply vanished.
Marcovius wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Thanks, Seth. The second the sound left my lips I knew I was in trouble.”
The King’s mood seemed to change out of nowhere. He displayed a big smile to his friend, on the verge of laughter.
The General raised an eyebrow. “What are you so happy about? We’re both in hot water now.”
The ambitious drow looked into his companion’s eyes and raised a clenched fist, keeping his smile intact. “Do you not realize what just happened? He attacked you. Now, how did he do that?”
Marcovius beamed as he realized the implications. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize! I guess I was more focused on my impending doom.”
The Liche King looked up at the sky. “Yes, our God is quite sensitive. He temporarily took a mortal form to act on his fury. And next time he does so, Sargath will die, and I will become a God.”
Kuldric panted heavily, low on breath. Ever since he had returned to Darnath, he had been undergoing the most intense training he had ever received. Against any conventional warrior, Kuldric had already been superior. But he realized he needed to learn how to fight against magic, and fight with magic. He had been learning new holy spells and abilities from the priests, and received specific training from battlemages to learn to fight and defend against mages and those with God-given gifts. He already knew a lot in the area, but he needed to know more. He thought of Eucibous with admiration, and how he had destroyed the drow who defeated him. He wouldn’t be left behind; he didn’t train day in and day out since he returned for nothing. He caught his breath and smiled to himself as he considered his new holy spell. Five minutes. I can maintain the haste spell for five minutes. That should be enough to keep up with any more absurdly fast fighters long enough to win.
Chapter Nine
The Tournament
Eucibous sat on a bench in the combatant hall next to his friends of the Crimson Blade, all of whom had also entered the tournament. Those who would be competing remained in the combatant hall while waiting for their matches to start. Eucibous appeared to be a middle aged mercenary with long black hair and a beard, which would serve as his disguise for the tournament. He appeared perplexed as he held two swords in front of him, studying them intently. Both were absurdly large broadswords, his favorite weapon. But there seemed a profound difference between the two. One of them was the gift of a God.
Jarec looked at Eucibous as if it was an easy decision. “My Lord, you will be standing against two of those blessed by the most powerful Gods in the pantheon. A little help couldn’t hurt. Although I know you don’t need help!”
Eucibous nodded. “True, the enchantments on this blade are powerful and could prove useful. I just don’t know if this is some sort of foul trick.” He thought back on the mysterious woman who had identified herself only as Jyla, surely a false name. It seemed impossible to him that she would serve the Gods of Darkness. She was simply too beautiful and pure. He tightened his grip on the handle of her gift, and let the other sword fall to the ground. He would trust the female, and if it was a trick, she would die.
Grymmbeard snorted. “Ye fool! Choosing a blade tainted with foul magic; me axe needs no tricks, and it’ll hurt all the same!”
The companions laughed. Dwarves didn’t take too kindly to magic. Lok glanced at Jarec’s belt, noticing the two black scimitars emitting a faint purple glow. Lok raised his eyebrows. “Jarec, finally busting out your prizes eh?”
“I figured no better place to put them to work!” Jarec replied. A few years back in the midst of their travels, he had looted these powerful enchanted scimitars from the body of a drow elf he had defeated. The elf had been his best opponent, and drow were known to have the best enchantments available for their weapons. Considering drow were rarely seen in Adanantus, such weapons proved difficult to come by.
Lok’s eyes also flickered over to Grymmbeard’s axe. Grymmbeard noticed the gaze of his friend. “And before ye ask, yes, I be using me father’s axe. Imagine his pride if I took the liche’s head with it!” He burst into laughter as he patted his two handed battleaxe that had been passed on with each generation. The axe had been lost for decades, but Grymmbeard retrieved it a while back from the ogre's lair that had been his father's demise. Suffice it to say that the lair is no more.
This caused Lok to look at his best of friends. He knew how badly Eucibous wanted to fight the liche. Eucibous appeared calm and in thought. Usually such a remark would have invoked a response demanding the liche was his. It seemed Eucibous had his mind elsewhere these days.
Eucibous never even bothered to check the lineup for matches. Without even looking at his friends, he muttered “Who fights first?”
“Some unknown mage is fighting a Captain of the knighthood. It should prove interesting, since the knight is known to avoid using magic.” Lok responded.
“Interesting, a knight who made the rank of Captain without wielding the spells of a paladin. He must prove efficient with a sword. So which of us is the first to fight?”
Lok smiled. “I am! I am in the next match, against an elf ranger.”
“Good luck, my friend. Though I know you don’t need it.” Eucibous replied. As he finished, he caught movement in the corner of his eye by the entrance of the room. The only reason the movement had stood out was because the figure he had seen was wearing all white, and again he felt that pure essence. He quickly stood on his feet and approached the woman who had not left his mind.
“Milady,” Eucibous said as he bowed slightly to the beautiful woman he knew as Jyla. “It is good to see you again.”
Jyla smiled innocently, sending warmth rushing throughout the warrior’s veins. “I come with an offer. Surely you came to the conclusion that
I spoke for the Gods?”
“Of course,” Eucibous replied, as if nothing could elude him. “My question was, which God?”
She took his cheek in the palm of her hand and whispered to him, “Myself.”
That was a response that the renowned warlord did not expect. “You…are a Goddess? I suppose that explains how you recognized me.” It made sense, he thought. The spells, the feelings of purity, the sheer essence of the woman all fell into place with the new information. “Since when do Gods lie with men?”
“Not very often, but I admit I took a liking to you watching you from the heavens. But alas, this is not the reason for my being here. You speak of recognition, and I feel that you deserve the recognition you are due. You plan to maintain this illusion the entire tournament, one powerful enough to elude even the best mages and priests?”
Eucibous shrugged. “A small matter. I’m not worried.”
“Of course not, considering how easily you won last time you competed here.” She said slyly. “Yes, we know all of your exploits. Even those from before you were famous. Well, we have reason to want your exploits to continue. I tell you now that I am Anania, Goddess of Light. I have already spoken with Darnillus and the high priests, and you shall be permitted to walk freely throughout Darnath, in your true form. The knights will be ordered to leave you be.”
This aroused suspicion within the cautious warrior. “Suddenly the Gods of Light wish to aid me? If I remember correctly, Darnillus plotted to have me killed.”
“We have common goals now, and Darnillus was fooled into believing you were a thing of evil.” Anania replied. “Speaking of such plots, the word is you are claimed by a God. Only then could you know all that you know, and indeed your presence smells of divine intervention.”
“We all have our secrets, and I am claimed by no one. I am simply assisted; I fight for my own goals, not those of some God.” Eucibous answered.