Crimson Blade

by Corey Soreff

  Rorik realized that none of the daggers had actually been aimed at him, and he cursed under his breath as they fell on each side of him. He jumped into the air as high as his legs could take him before the explosive runes etched into the knives detonated. Explosions from each side roared up from the ground below, the flames stopping just under Rorik's feet as his ascent ended.

  He was not in a good position. Now falling back to the ground, he had no way to control his direction and would likely head straight into another attack. So he played it safe and dissolved into the shadows before he landed, causing Ginin to do the same.

  Rorik landed and did a somersault to absorb most of the fall, then sighed. They were right back where they started.

  His entire life had been for this moment, in a way. Though he had been initially trained from birth under the pretense of defeating Eucibous, everyone knew that Kuldric Kinaan would eventually be forced to dispose of Sargath's champion as well. Now it seemed Kuldric wouldn't get his fight against Eucibous, and his only goal in life that remained was to defeat the Liche King. The liche stood before him now, yet Eucibous was insisting the fight was his. I didn't come this far for nothing, he thought. Glory would be his. He would not stand by idly while Eucibous fought to save the world.

  Seth'nerak also conveniently had his back to him. Kuldric pulled his warhammer off of his back, cast his new holy haste spell, and dashed straight at the liche. He arrived in a heartbeat, warhammer soaring down from above to crash into the Liche King's shoulder. But Kuldric was thrown off balance when his hammer crashed into…nothing, and flew down into the dirt. Yet the liche never moved.

  Eucibous had watched the whole thing. He knew the liche should be able to both use teleport spells as well as fade in and out of the planes of death and life. But under both of those instances, Eucibous should at least be able to notice him vanish, if only for a fraction of a second. But Seth'nerak had not vanished, teleported, faded, or moved. He simply stood with an ignorant grin, as if it was funny the knight had tried.

  "Are you on a plane of the Gods, coward?" Eucibous asked.

  Seth'nerak laughed. "Hardly. I don't have time to bicker with the Gods about taking Sargath's seat until I'm done with you. I have mastered the ability to exist between the planes of life and death simultaneously. In other words, you cannot harm my physical body, for it is but a mirage. But…I can harm you." He smiled.

  Eucibous cursed. He scanned his memory for any knowledge he had ever encountered of how to fight such a being, but found nothing. He had never had to fight anything without a physical form. Most liche's were very powerful, but they could be cut. But now he faced a foe who he could not fight with his blade. He would need to fight with his brain. I know thousands of spells, more than any man alive. Surely there is one…

  Kuldric prayed to Darnillus to infuse his warhammer with holy power, and he swung again. The liche had ignored him after his attack, thinking him powerless to hurt him. And he was right. Even as his warhammer struck the liche as it glowed with holy energy, again it passed right through him.

  This time the liche turned his head. "Be gone, gnat." Seth'nerak's hand shot into Kuldric's breast. It didn't penetrate him, it just passed through like a spirit. Then his fist clenched inside the knight's chest as if he grabbed something, and ripped his arm back out. He took a small vial from his cloak, and deposited his new soul inside.

  Kuldric crumpled to the ground, pale and lifeless.

  Lok was about to unleash his rage when he was suddenly flung backwards with great force, landing on his back several yards away. He immediately kicked his legs into the air, launching himself back up to his feet. He narrowed his eyes in thought at this new development.

  "Lok! He can move things with his mind!" Jarec shouted.

  A telekinetic? I've never heard of a human one. A God's gift, then? Lok wondered.

  Then he was tossed through the air once again, this time much further. But before he landed, however, he disappeared.

  Lok materialized directly behind Marcovius and threw a roundhouse kick at the back of his head. But Marcovius sensed it, and ducked under the kick. Then he spun and waved his arm across to send Lok tumbling away again. And again Lok vanished in midair.

  Appearing on the other side of the General this time, Lok jabbed his halberd forward at the man's ribs.

  With a snap of his hand, Marcovius sent the large halberd flying out of Lok's grip. Immediately after he slashed out with his own sword, but Lok was gone by the time it would have connected. How annoying.

  Lok had surely been one of the fastest men in the world before. Now, with the gift of Noctune, he could actually teleport without casting a spell. He was now faster than even Eucibous with his speed and teleport spells. Within a second he had already retrieved his halberd and vanished again.

  Appearing in the air above Marcovius, Lok brought his halberd down at his opponent's head.

  Marcovius moved to send him away once more, but the attack was a feint, and Lok was gone again.

  Reappearing on the ground behind the General, Lok swept the General's feet out from under him, bring him to the ground. Then Lok had vanished again. He didn't mean to keep taking turns using their gifts.

  Marcovius landed hard on his back, cursing himself for being fooled. His instincts told him to roll, and roll he did. Good thing too, for a gleaming jade halberd pierced the dirt where he had been laying not a moment later. Every time Marcovius sought to use his gift to gain some distance, his opponent was gone. He began to get up, and was on one knee, when Lok materialized in about twenty places before him within a few seconds. Marcovius tried to study each one as quickly as possible after he appeared, looking for any sign in his body movements of attacking. Finally, one time he noticed unique movement in Lok's chest as he appeared above him. Those trained in the art of fighting knew to watch their enemy's chest, for that is where you will see attacks begin.

  Marcovius pushed off the foot that he had on the ground, propelling himself forward in a somersault. Simultaneously during the somersault, he swung his sword above him, letting it spin with him.

  Lok had indeed intended to attack this time, and his Halberd was already soaring down at the spot the General had been kneeling. It was too late to move the direction of his swing, and he noticed Marcovius's maneuver a second too late as well.

  Marcovius's blade struck Lok in the shin just before he teleported again, and he felt it break skin.

  Lok appeared a short distance away, blood dripping down his ankle. The sword had managed to pierce his leather armor with the momentum of the somersault. Lok stood awkwardly, trying not to put too much weight on that foot.

  Marcovius noticed, and smiled.

  Lok looked down at his shin and realized this was the first time he had ever been injured in battle. Never before had someone drawn blood. He had been defeated in his test by Eucibous, to be sure, but the man had not injured him. He turned his eyes back to Marcovius. "Any less and I would have been disappointed. I would hope the man to defeat Grymm could at least scratch me."

  "Thanks for the compliment," Marcovius replied. "If you think I'm good, you should see Seth."

  "And you should see Euc," Lok chuckled sarcastically.

  "I'm afraid I won't have the chance, since Seth is going to kill him." Marcovius sneered.

  Lok's anger couldn't hold back his laugh. "Now, that would surprise me." Lok honestly couldn't even imagine the thought of Eucibous losing. "Almost as much as if you killed me."

  Marcovius shrugged. "You're in for a few surprises, then." The General was getting more confident. After the recent exchanges with his famous adversary, he felt that he could perhaps win. Lok was strong, no doubt, but the legends seemed a bit exaggerated. In fact, without the teleportation, he wondered how Lok had been feared at all.

  Lok saw the confidence building in the man's eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you get the notion that I had been fighting seriously? Avenging my friend in a moment would be no fun, after all."


  Is he bluffing? Marcovius wondered. The General had never met a man in battle whose martial prowess could top his own, and he had begun to think it unlikely. The dwarf had hurt him, but he was just as good a fighter on his back as he was on his feet. He was never worried. The scimitar fighter was good, but if it wasn't for those enchanted blades he would not have been his match. These were two of the country's best fighters, how much stronger than them could Lok possibly be? I must not let my guard down, lest I be scratched by more magical bullshit. He eyed Lok's magnificent halberd warily, focusing specifically on the socketed rubies and emeralds. It was one of those times he wished he could detect magic.

  "From what I hear, The Crimson Blade are men of honor. I offer you the same I offered the dwarf. A fight without God-given gifts, a battle of our skills alone?" Marcovius asked. He could kill two birds with one stone. Be rid of that annoying teleportation, as well as instill a sense of guilt in the man, rendering him unlikely to use magical aid against him.

  Lok smiled. He must think he knows the extent of my skills, using honor to restrict me from using unknown trickery to win. "I would like that," he answered. "Let us begin."

  Marcovius began to grin, getting excited as he foresaw another victory using his elven martial arts. Lok had not been there to see Grymmbeard's defeat, he was probably expecting no more than a swordsman. His excitement was not given much chance to grow, however, when he witnessed Lok become a green blur as he dashed forward. He had barely brought his sword up in time to block when the ridiculously fast Lok was upon him. He had never seen a man run so fast.

  The shock of the blow sent vibrating pain down Marcovius's arms. Lok's strength coupled with the quality of the halberd and the speed of the blow put the General's muscles to the test as he held the block with two hands, his shield on the ground below him. His arms shook as his triceps bulged, holding back the halberd. "I thought we weren't to use magic, worm." Marcovius asked.

  "Magic? I've never used magic in my life. But I'll take that as a compliment to the agility I work ever so hard to maintain." Lok grinned.

  Marcovius kicked forward, and Lok hopped a step back before he connected. Nonsense, he's that fast without magic?

  After eliminating the undead threat, the remaining knights and champions had made their way over to the main battle to offer their aid. The combatants from the tournament had charged right in, but Ceric had made sure to check in with the command, which he would of course claim for himself once again. Lok was nowhere to be seen. Ceric let his gaze wander over the battlefield. They were still outnumbered, but surely they could win. He believed in the skills of his knights, most of whom he had trained himself at one point.

  Ceric was about to give his orders and then rejoin the battle himself when a rider approached.

  "Your grace!" The rider yelled as he approached. He jumped off of his horse and immediately dropped to his knee to kneel before Ceric.

  Ceric gave him an incredulous look. "The title is Knight-Commander, what is your message fool?" Ceric had obviously just thought the man flustered to be in his presence."

  The knight looked up at Ceric, and gulped. "Uhh…my Princ…my King." The man wrestled for words. "His Majesty the King has fallen, along with most of those that had been in the arena. A large explosion consumed it."

  So that's why the man had addressed him in such a manner. Ceric's eyes were wide with disbelief. "Are you positive? My father is perished?"

  The rider nodded in confirmation. "Yes…and you, his eldest, his rightful heir. Long live King Ceric."

  The knights surrounding them all dropped to a knee in homage. "Long live King Ceric!" They all yelled.

  Ceric just stared at them, or through them.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Battle's End

  Rorik knew he was taking a chance if he used this technique. It was one he discovered and created himself, as far as he knew. But it was one that would sap most of his remaining energy. If it failed, he would be unlikely to be able to even fade into the shadow plane for a time. A great risk, given his opponent. Assassins were no mages, but their stealth techniques did draw upon one's innate magical energy.

  But Rorik had faith in himself, and he knew he must stop Ginin before he decided to fight someone else. He had to believe that his technique would work. Rorik snickered. After this, they'll call me The Shadow. I think they will find it fits me better.

  He stepped back into the world of the living, exiting the folds of the shadows. Once again, he prepared for the attack that would likely be on him momentarily. Sensing the rift in the planes behind him, he didn't wait to feel a blade this time. He spun and kicked out with his right leg, narrowly missing Ginin as he reentered the plane and dodged.

  Ginin sidestepped, and then leaped forward. He came at Rorik with abandon, daggers flashing. He truly appeared a distorted shadow as the assassin cloaked in black looked a dancing array of darkness. One dagger soared in, dodged by Rorik as it flew past his left cheek. Then Ginin spun, his left hand coming around from the other side with a backhand, dagger headed for Rorik from the direction he had dodged in. Rorik flipped diagonally through the air to avoid the second attack.

  Ginin then did a flip of his own, right into Rorik, his right foot flying down at Rorik's skull in his descent.

  Rorik expected the kick, and decided that he could absorb the damage of a foot if he got a better attack out of it himself. He planned to take the kick in the shoulder, and simultaneously bury his dagger into Ginin's chest in the process.

  Then he saw it.

  A hidden blade shot out of the toe of Ginin's boot at the last moment, and sunk deep into Rorik's shoulder. Rorik gasped in pain and surprise as his muscles were shredded. I'm a fool! As Ginin pulled free his foot, Rorik hopped backward to recover.

  Now, Rorik thought. He reached into the plane of shadows, but did not enter. He became one with the shadows, feeling them in his own plane as much as their own. He grasped hold of it, and brought the shadows themselves into the realm of the living.

  Ginin was not about to let Rorik rest. He dashed forward, another flurry of daggers weaving in and out, coming at the wounded Rorik. Ginin's opponent didn't budge, he looked deep in concentration. Ginin would take advantage of that. His dagger shot out with incredible speed to dive into Rorik's neck.

  Then the dagger stopped inches away from Rorik, as did the rest of Ginin's body.

  Rorik grinned. Rorik's own shadow seemed to be alive, he was not moving but the shadow his body cast was teeming with activity, tendrils flailing about wildly. His shadow was overlapping with Ginin's own, and indeed looked to be actually fighting his opponent's shadow.

  Ginin struggled as best he could, but neither his will nor muscles seemed to be able to free him. He was frozen in place, and the shadow below him entangled his own with ferocity.

  Rorik pulled a short sword from his back. With blinding agility, he flew forward past Ginin with his blade out wide, stopping on the other side of him. When he ceased his movement, he held the pose momentarily, short sword held in the air to his right.

  Ginin's head rolled off his shoulders a moment later.

  Lok stood several feet away from Marcovius laughing on the inside, but his exterior maintained a serious air. He thought my speed to have been merely rumors. The fool. "I'm done playing," Lok said. "You die now, for Grymm. Make peace with your God."

  The thought hadn't really crossed his mind. My God? By all rights, considering whom he fought for, Sargath had been his God. But he surely hated that wretched deity, and he was supposedly dead besides. Where would he go when he died? Whatever, I don't mean to find out.

  Lok's halberd jabbed forward, and indeed it was long enough to reach the General. The great halberd was as tall as Lok himself.

  Marcovius batted it aside with his sword, but Lok used the momentum of its deflection to spin and bring it upon him once again with great force from his right side, sweeping across at his midsection. Marcovius performed a spin of his own, bringing the sh
ield in his left hand around and smashing the halberd away once more.

  Lok had anticipated it. The moment the halberd met shield, he sent a back kick flying into the shield as well.

  Marcovius staggered back, and then Lok was gone. Turning immediately, he was not surprised to find Lok behind him. No…under him. Too late.

  Lok had planted his left hand on the ground, and kicked up at the General with his right leg the moment he turned. The kick connected, right under the chin. Marcovius took the powerful blow and his head snapped violently upward, sending his body soaring into the air.

  Marcovius cursed himself. Everything was white, his vision blurred. It had been a solid kick.

  "Ever wonder how I got my nickname?" Lok yelled. Then he raised his halberd into the air, and began spinning in it circles. With each rotation, it spun faster, and it quickly became a blurred mass. It looked as if it was just some giant circular surface, for the Halberd seemed to be in all places at once. The winds began to spin with it, and rising up from the halberd began a small tornado. It quickly gained in momentum, power, and speed. Marcovius ascent had ended, and he was plummeting back to the ground when he hit the strong winds.

  He was caught. "Treachery!" He screamed. He was floating! He began to get dizzy as the manmade storm kept him spinning in circles, tossed about like a doll. He was flailing, spinning, and flipping in every direction as the violent winds thrashed about him.

  Lok was still spinning his halberd to maintain the technique, though if any had been watching they could not have even seen a halberd. It seemed as if he commanded the wind itself. "Not treachery!" He yelled. He had to yell to be heard over the strong winds. "I am Lok, The Tempest! You command goblins, and I command storms! This is the difference in our power!"