Without any knowledge of the terrain, Lucius found it was an insufferable chore to make his way back to the cabin. The density of the fog also prevented him from navigating successfully through the darkness and mire. The futility of his efforts became clear when he entered the same glade after traversing the swampland. He thrust his sword into the ground in exasperation and sat down beside it. Hushed voices in the dark forced him to look up and around the glade. Lucius saw no one, but the voices grew closer. He stood up quickly, pulling the sword from the mud and taking a defensive stance.
"Who's there?" Lucius yelled into the misty night.
No one answered, but after a moment, the gray light reappeared and entered the clearing. Lucius put a hand up to shield himself from the intensity of the nearby light. When his eyes grew accustomed to it, he peered within the light and saw a beautiful maiden clothed in a white gown. Lowering his sword, Lucius became instantly mesmerized when she spoke. Her voice was like a rushing waterfall and a bubbling brook all at once.
"Lucius, my heart is glad to see you," the lady said with a smile.
"Who ... Who are you?" he stammered, feeling weightless.
"I am the light of Azuleah. I have come to help you on your quest," the lady replied, extending an open hand toward him. "Come to me, Lucius. It is in my power to grant your desires."
Lucius faltered briefly. "My desires?"
"You are the heir to Cervantes' throne and a great dynasty. Come to me and your ascent to royalty will see fruition." Her voice tugged at him with unexpected force.
His thoughts raced to the dream of the ball of light hovering in the heavens and the gilded archway door inside a beautiful palace.
Lucius ... the time has not yet come for you to enter the door ...
"Is it time for me to enter the door?" Lucius asked out loud, more to himself than the maiden.
"Yes, Lucius ... come and enter the door ..." Her eyes glowed strangely, and he noticed a shadow pass over them.
"I ... I'm not sure if I'm ready," he said, stepping back with all his strength.
The woman's eyes lost their allure and warmth, but she persisted. "It would be unwise for you to deny the inheritance prepared for you, Ellyllei."
"I will secure it in time," Lucius said with confidence. "As Yéwa wills."
"Yéwa?" she scoffed. "His power does not exceed my own."
"I think it does, my lady," Lucius said. He held up his sword, comprehending the threat before him. "Or would you prefer to be called Wretched One?"
The mention of the unflattering title stung the maiden, and her shining light began to fade. The maiden's golden hair turned jet black and her bright eyes a silvery gray. The silky gown contorted to a tunic textured in purple scales, which glimmered in the moonlight. The thin, tall figure standing before Lucius watched him curiously for a minute before flashing a sharp-toothed grin.
"So it seems you are privy to my countenance, Lucius Nostra. I am indeed the Wretched One, the Accuser, and a host of similar disparaging titles, but I prefer my true name. You may call me Sêrhalon," the creature said. His voice held an indescribable allure despite his mysterious appearance. It was like listening to a beautiful elven ballad with a grim note playing faintly in the background.
"You are unlike anything I have ever seen or heard of," Lucius uttered aloud. His eyes were fixed on the creature's silver irises, which seem to pulse with an indescribable energy.
"I have that effect on man. They find me both beautiful and despicable." Sêrhalon's face changed to that of a beautiful red-headed woman then back again. "You should not fear me, Lucius ... I can offer you a great many things."
Lucius felt a sudden longing in his heart. "What kind of things?"
"Power, wealth, and prestige," Sêrhalon said, the corners of his mouth upturned. "With my help, you could wield a power greater than Memnon or Kraegyn. Your kingdom would be unmatched in all of Azuleah."
Lucius grit his teeth, fighting the temptations in the deepest recesses of his mind. He looked up at the simpering demon and gripped his sword tighter. "You're a wretched liar! I know Yéwa is more powerful than you!"
Sêrhalon frowned. "I am not as wretched as some would have you believe, Lucius. It would behoove you to consider me an ally in your quest. After all, hasn't Yéwa failed you time and time again? Are you not doubting his power even now?"
"Silence! I do not wish to hear anymore!" Lucius felt a sharp pain on his temples like a vice tightening around his head.
"My dear boy, don't be a fool. Without my help, Kraegyn and Memnon will destroy you and everything you hold dear," Sêrhalon said, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Your help?" Lucius scoffed. "You're the one who gave them power! No one can trust you except demons and filth."
Sêrhalon smirked. "You've got this all wrong, Lucius. I'm not the one responsible for the actions of Kraegyn or Memnon. Weren't you told that Yéwa is all-powerful? All wise? All encompassing?"
"Yes, but what does that—"
"Weren't you told you could trust him?" Sêrhalon pressed.
"Yes," Lucius replied.
"And yet, the all-powerful, trustworthy Deity of men has done nothing for you. Why hasn't he vanquished Kraegyn or Memnon? Why did he allow Yesu to die so unjustly?"
"No, you're wrong; Yesu is alive," Lucius said, feeling anxious all of a sudden.
"Is he? Is that what the druid told you?" Sêrhalon asked, raising a brow. "What makes you think you can trust him? After all, he killed all the druids whose staffs he so proudly displays in his home."
"What?" Lucius whispered. His stomach churned at the idea of Alistair committing genocide. He knew little about the druid and couldn't completely dismiss the accusation. But it had to be a lie. It had to be.
The Wretched One paced slowly in front of him for a moment, saying nothing.
"You're lying," Lucius said, unconvincingly.
"No, I'm afraid not, Lucius. I'm not lying about your new friend, just as I'm not lying about Yéwa," Sêrhalon said in a compassionate tone. "Heed my words, I beg you. Yéwa has never been there for you. Think of the Southern Passage."
"What of it?" Lucius barked.
"You fought bravely against those banshees, but you barely left the Burning Woods with your life. You're scarred and unable to hear. Where was Yéwa?"
"I came out alive, that's all that matters."
"Really? Will you come out alive when a host of Draknoir assail you? Can you survive a flight of dragons breathing fire from the heavens?"
Lucius shivered as Kraegyn's fire erupted into his mind. He could feel the searing heat and the agony immediately. He dropped his sword and fell onto his knees, clutching his torso as the flames spread all over his skin. He screamed as his body spasmed from the pain. Without any warning, the flames vanished and the torturous ordeal ended. Lucius looked around frantically for Kraegyn, but only saw the clearing and Sêrhalon standing over him with a worried expression on his face.
"You need not suffer like this, Lucius," the Wretched One said.
Lucius sighed heavily and fought the temptation to weep. The fire and pain had been so real.
"Please let me help you," Sêrhalon insisted. "I can end your suffering. You can return to Evingrad and forget this foolish quest."
"Why? Why would you help me?" Lucius asked, genuinely curious.
Sêrhalon smiled and reached out a hand to help Lucius from the ground.
Lucius stared at the pale upturned palm for a moment before taking hold of it. He was immediately lifted from the ground and transported to the Breninmaur. The darkness had disappeared, replaced by the warm hues of a rising sun in the east. Lucius stood breathless in the city square looking up at the Tower of Evingrad standing proudly before him. A few short weeks prior he had faced off against Kiret here. Despite all the enmity he had experienced in Evingrad, it was the only home Lucius knew, and he missed it dearly.
"How does it feel to be home again?" Sêrhalon's voice dashed his reverie.
"Good. Better than I could have imagined." Lucius said. His shoulders sagged, and he turned to the grinning, pale entity beside him. "This isn't real, is it?"
"No, it isn't, but it can be. I can bring you back here and make it so this journey never happened. Your hearing will be restored, your body mended. You can live in peace here, tucked away from the world's cares."
Lucius swallowed hard. The offer was more than tempting. He didn't want to hurt anymore or face an uncertain future as an heir to a kingdom he didn't know. But the thought of Kraegyn's evil spreading kept him from falling headlong into a blissful existence unshackled from the world outside the Breninmaur.
"And what about Kraegyn?" Lucius asked, more to himself than the Wretched One.
"Others will fight in your stead to destroy the dragon. You need not worry. The world is full of Yéwa's faithful," Sêrhalon said with a bemused smile.
"You're very good at this," Lucius said, turning to face the Accuser. "Playing on the hopes and dreams of the weak with half-truths and empty promises. I don't want anything to do with you."
Sêrhalon's confident smile vanished. With a clap of his hands, all of Evingrad shattered like glass and rained down all around them. Lucius ducked to avoid the shards of the world he loved from piercing him, but nothing touched him. He looked up and saw the dark clearing in the marsh once more. Sêrhalon glowered and curled his upper lip as he bore his silver eyes into Lucius.
"You are a fool and a weakling," the Wretched One sneered. "I offer you peace and instead you spit in my hand."
Lucius picked up his sword from the ground then squared his shoulders. "Enough chatter, Sêrhalon. The time has come to fight."
Sêrhalon laughed. He raised his index and middle fingers, then slowly pointed them downward. The pointed end of Lucius' sword followed the demon lord's gesture and pinned itself to the ground at his feet. He gripped the sword's hilt and tugged with all of his might, but it would not budge.
"You are an insect to me, Lucius. Yéwa has not defeated me. What makes you stand any chance?" Sêrhalon asked.
"Perhaps, you're right. But you haven't defeated Yesu. I know he still lives," Lucius said with little conviction. He planted his feet firmly and continued to pull on the sword. His fingers were raw from the failed effort, but he refused to stop. "I know your fate, demon—I've read the Ultimum. You may prevail this night, but I fight nonetheless."
"Yes, I see you're eager for a duel. And I'm willing to oblige you," Sêrhalon snickered, watching him like a mouse caught in a trap.
Twigs snapped and leaves rustled softly behind Lucius, beyond the tree line of the clearing. He turned quickly to look, but only saw trees and bushes swaying gently in the night. Sêrhalon clasped his hands and let out a low whistle. A low growl nearby sent Lucius' heart racing. He tugged harder on the hilt, feeling the sword give a little from its fixed position.
"You know what I love about this bog, Lucius? There are all manner of creatures willing to bow to my will," Sêrhalon said, turning his back on Lucius. "My favorite beast is the bog bear—lumbering and slow, but oh so ferocious when it's aching for a meal."
Another growl resounded in the swamp, closer and louder this time. Lucius' arms burned from the incessant yanking, but the sword loosened more with each tug. He only hoped Sêrhalon's minion did not attack while he remained helpless.
"Goodbye, Lucius," the Wretched One said. He raised a hand in the air, walking away from Lucius and into the trees. "I don't foresee we shall meet again."
Lucius heaved with all his strength and yelled as pain rippled from his arms to his injured back. "Yéwa, help me," he groaned.
A heavy grunt startled him. He whipped around and faced the large bog bear on the edge of the clearing. The bear moaned and sniffed the air impatiently. It stood on its haunches and roared before falling on all fours and running full stride at Lucius.
He grabbed the hilt again and pulled once more. The bear's heavy paws pounded behind him, closing the distance between them. Lucius estimated fifteen seconds were all he had before the bear mauled him. He could make a run for it now, but the bear would easily outrun him. The sword was the only hope he had.
Five seconds left. He grit his teeth and yanked until the sword popped from the ground, sending his body backwards onto the moist ground. Lucius caught a glimpse of the bog bear's crazed eyes and bared teeth before rolling out of the possessed animal's path. The bear swiped its massive claw, ripping through Lucius' tunic and the flesh of his upper back. Lucius blinked away tears of pain as warm blood oozed from the gash.
A split second passed and the bear pounced on him. Lucius had barely risen from the ground. He somehow managed to raise his sword in time to block the bear's lunging bite. Holding the sword horizontally in each hand, Lucius stopped the bear's jaws from clamping down on his face, but the creature's large frame toppled him to the ground. His body writhed beneath the bear's bulk, struggling to hold the sword with both hands in the animal's mouth. It snorted and growled at the bit in its mouth, chomping at the sword in a maddened frenzy. Lucius' left palm bled profusely as he gripped the blade and pushed the thrashing bear's head away from his face. His vision blurred, and his breathing became erratic when the bear loosed the sword from his grasp.
I'm going to die. This is it.
With a whip of its head, the bear flung the sword aside and reared back to swipe its claws at Lucius. He wanted to struggle free from the bear's grasp or shield his face with his arms, but his body was sapped of strength. Three arrows whistled through the air and pierced the bear's right flank. The animal fell down beside Lucius, but immediately rose again with a fierce roar. Lucius willed himself to get up and find his rescuer.
Siegfried entered the clearing at full speed with bow in hand. He slowed his pace briefly and loosed two more arrows at the bear. One of the arrows caught the animal in the neck while the other landed in its shoulder. The embedded arrow only made the bear angry. It charged at the elf at full speed, roaring incessantly at its new target. Lucius watched as Siegfried closed the distance between himself and the beast. The bear slashed at Siegfried's midsection, but he jumped into the air and shot another arrow into the bear's back. He landed gracefully behind the growling animal and nocked another arrow.
Lucius stumbled towards the battle and searched the damp ground for his sword. A pang of nausea surged through him when he knelt to retrieve the weapon. Blood continued to pour out from his hand and upper back. He ignored the pain and broke into a light run toward Siegfried. His brother dodged several swipes from the bear in what closely resembled a dance to Lucius. Despite Siegfried's successful defense, the elf struggled to find an opening and draw another arrow. After another well-timed dodge, Siegfried hopped a few feet back and pulled the drawstring taut. The arrow never flew. With incredible speed, the bear lunged at Siegfried and sunk its fangs into his left arm.
Lucius ran harder as his brother's scream pierced the swamp air. He closed in and flung his sword in a downward arc at the bear's neck, hoping to sever it completely. The strike cut deep into the bear's hide, but Lucius failed to separate the beast's head from its body. A guttural wail erupted from the bear, and it released Siegfried's arm. The bear trotted a few feet from them and snorted several times. Lucius drew back for another strike while Siegfried unsheathed the dagger from his belt.
"I'll distract it for a moment, then you kill it," Siegfried ordered.
"Wait, I don't—"
"Just do it!" Siegfried cried. He dropped his bow and slowly approached the bear.
Lucius followed him and kept his eye on the growling bear. Blood pooled on the possessed creature's neck and matted down the fur on its nape. It watched them approach with keen interest, sniffing the air and swaying from side to side as they drew close. Siegfried cursed at the bear in the elvish tongue, flailing his good arm in the air while his left arm hung limp at his side. The scene would have been hilarious to Lucius if their lives weren't at stake.
The bear swung its heavy paws at
Siegfried like a cat trying to swat a fly. Siegfried weaved his body between the strikes, doing his best to annoy and distract the beast as Lucius stepped in closer. Lucius' head throbbed from the pain swelling up in his body, but he steeled himself for the attack. He waited for the bear to take another swipe at Siegfried and then dove at the animal's right flank with his blade stretched out in front of him. The sword plunged deep into the bear's ribcage. A pained growl escaped the bear's throat, and it reared back onto its hind legs, pushing Lucius onto the ground. Standing at full height, the bear opened its mouth to roar, but only a raspy noise came out. The possessed animal collapsed then puffed a few breaths before it lay still in the clearing.
Lucius pushed himself up onto his elbows and knees, attempting to stand despite every inclination of his body to lie prone for eternity. Siegfried helped him to his feet then nursed his wounded arm and watched the fallen bear cautiously.
"Is it dead?" Lucius asked, closing his eyes to keep the swamp from spinning around him.
"Yes," Siegfried replied. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Let's get back to the cabin."
He ambled toward the carcass and tugged the sword from the bear's side. The minor exertion proved too much for his ailing muscles. Lucius' legs went limp and buckled beneath him. Before he hit the damp ground, swirling darkness blurred his vision, ushering him into a sea of black.
Dreams of Kraegyn and Sêrhalon danced amid gray, clouded imagery before he awoke to the sight of Alistair and Siegfried looking down at him. He recognized the messy interior of the druid's cabin and wondered how much time had passed. Pulsing pain erupted throughout his head, chest, and back like a thousand mallets drumming onto him. Siegfried looked down at him with doleful eyes while Alistair dabbed a moist rag on his forehead. Lucius could barely hear the sound of words being spoken, and he wondered if he'd lost his hearing completely.
"He's burning up," the druid said, glancing at Siegfried. He turned to Lucius with a forced smile. "Sleep now, my boy. You are in dire need of rest ... sleep ..."
The Blade Heir (Book 1) Page 24