by P D Ceanneir
Verkin stood and ignored the pain in his back. The pain in his head however was a constant irritation and he urgently needed to get rid of it, but no, not quite yet. He allowed it to brood and fester, encouraged it to coalesce and form. He needed the anger.
On the floor not ten feet from him was Lord Rett’s sword, Selnour, he walked over to it and picked it up. His friends on the other side of the flames shouted to him to come back. Their voices were distant and dull compared to the thumping in his head. The fire now engulfed the roof and the walls. He ignored their cries and turned to the hole in the wall that was once the west exit to the bridge.
The only voice he heard sat at the back of his mind. It was calming, but firm. It belonged to the Queen of the Ravens, and it told him to help the Blacksword.
The Blacksword is not yet formed. Not yet, complete. He must survive because the fate of the world is in his hands said the voice of the girl with the burning eyes, he is the only one that the Dark Entity fears, but he has not reached his true power, the power of a Demigod!
Verkin nodded to the sound of the voice in his head. He tightened his grip on Selnour and ran through the opening.
Plaster and dust from the broken masonry covered the Blacksword and the Drakken, if both of them suffered pains from hurtling through a brick wall neither of them showed it. The Blacksword was first on his feet. He unsheathed SinDex, but was courteous enough to allow his opponent to pick himself up.
The Drakken twirled the axe-staff over his head, with a growl and swung it at the Blacksword’s side, which he dodged, parried and stepped through the beast’s defence cutting and slashing, hoping that the loss of blood would weaken the thing but it just continued to heal and roar at the top of its lungs.
The enclosed space of the room was not ideal for fighting, so he moved back to the doorway. The Drakken sidestepped into his path, determined to finish the Blacksword, and use brute strength to hack him to the ground.
The Blacksword saw it coming and quickly moved to his left and kicked the monster in the side of the knee. The creature’s leg buckled and as it tried to regain its balance. SinDex’s sharp edge came down towards its head; the Drakken caught the action out of the corner of his eye and acted quickly to block the black blade with the centre of its staff, but the sword cut straight through the shaft and gouging a line down the creatures face to make him roar in agony and rage.
The Drakken, grunting in pain, stood up bringing one axe head down on his opponent. The Blacksword turned side on and the axe missed, imbedding itself in the floor. Then he jabbed SinDex through the wrist of the other hand. He twisted the blade so it jammed in-between the bones of the forearm, trapping the appendage and causing as much pain as he could, but it trapped his own weapon as the Drakken used the same strategy and fought through the agony to turn his arm and lock the black blade there.
The beast roared and struggled to pull his broken half of the axe out of the floor. The Blacksword and Havoc both saw the danger and together worked in unison to summon the fire element and link a Pyromantic Surge to it. The heat condensed into a ball of wavy white heat in the palm of his hand.
The Drakken managed to flex his muscles’ and pulled the axe out of the floor. It ripped huge splinters as it did so. He brought the axe high over his head.
The heat ignited into a small flame, which grew brighter and larger when the Pyromantic Surge hit it.
The Drakken bellowed in triumph, as with a mighty drop of his arm, he brought the axe down for the killing blow.
The Blacksword sent the Fireball into the Dragonstalker’s chest with such force that his arm recoiled back as he released the energy. The beast shot backwards so quickly, that its velocity sent it soaring through three brick walls, two wardrobes, a urinal, and an antique mahogany bed frame, before demolishing the west wall of the corner room and plunging a hundred feet down towards the sea.
Fortunately, for the Drakken, it landed on the bridge to Carras Isle, not the cold and uninviting sea underneath it. The impact of such a heavy creature shook the bridge like a strong earthquake, sending shockwaves of force through the thick paving and the joists, cracking them in hundreds of different locations. The brick support leg, directly under the monsters back, cushioned the landing. The shockwave of stress ran down the leg all the way to the sea rock platform, which was where the foundations were constructed. Small chunks of brickwork pinged out from the structure in a dozen places up and down its length.
The Drakken lay on its back, eyes closed, and the indentation his heavy body had created on the road, made it look as if he had sunk halfway through the bridges surface layer. The after effects of the Pyromantic Fire still popped and sizzled on the large chest. Smoke rose from the wound and the creature remained still.
The Dragonstalker’s Lobe Stone had fallen from its grasp when the Blacksword collided with it. Bleudwed picked it up and marvelled at its smooth oval symmetry. It looked the same as Havoc’s own one and she wondered where he got it and what it really was. She sneaked a peek around the corner of the demolished wall that the Blacksword and the monster went through. On the floor was half of the things axe-staff. Still gripping it was its talon like hand; it twitched twice causing the long black nails to beat a short tattoo on the handle. She felt sick when she looked at the ragged end of dark flesh just above the wrist.
Movement up ahead made her look up. Dust was clearing around the sinister cloaked figure that looked so much like Prince Havoc, but clearly was not. Beyond him were a series of Drakken-shaped holes that led to moonlight, fresh air and a cool sea breeze.
‘Err... how... did you did that?’ she asked him nervously pointing to the holes in the walls.
The Blacksword turned and shrugged, ‘let’s just say, I had help,’ he said.
Verkin felt the rumble of the bridge’s vibration when the Drakken landed. His footing faltered. He felt weak from blood loss, but the voice of the girl forced him on, giving him renewed hope and energy. He allowed the pain in his head to build up to a throbbing tempo. He stood slowly and heard the growl, coming from the waking Dragonstalker. The sound lifted through the night air to fill him with a cold shiver.
Wind caught the Blacksword’s coat tails as he looked west out of the last exit point of the demolished walls. He saw the thing on the bridge getting to its feet.
‘Damn thing landed on the bridge! What are the chances of that happening?’ he growled to himself
Bleudwed, behind him, never gave him an answer and he never expected one. She felt a little shocked at the way the evening had gone, but one thing was for sure, being with the prince or the Blacksword certainly did not lack excitement. She expected the ball to be boring; it was far from it.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when the Blacksword leapt through the hole in the wall. He glided through the air with his arms outstretched allowing a condensed area of pressure to form in front of him and to slow his decent as he glided to his destination. He executed a perfect summersault before he landed on the bridge and extracted SinDex from its sheath on his back.
The Drakken was in pain. A dark patch of bubbling scales still smoked from his chest and part of its face. The right cheek, open and exposed to the air. The bone glinted with dark blood. He would also not be able to close his lips on that side again, grey drool mixed with blood to hang in a thin strand as it made an unpleasant journey to the bridge’s paved surface.
The Blacksword noticed it was failing to heal the burns. The hard scales on the creature’s chest had burnt away, only soft charred flesh remained. The Blacksword walked forward holding SinDex with both hands.
The creatures arm, with the missing left hand, healed over and became a small club of scaly skin, but still the burn on its chest would not heal, clearly, it was vulnerable to the Pyromancer’s Fire as Lord Ness mentioned.
Still holding the other half of the axe-staff, the Drakken defended the Blacksword’s quick attack. There was not much room to manoeuvre on the bridge and the attack was furious. The mon
ster received cut after cut and the Blacksword saw it was taking longer to heal. It was finally weakening.
He feigned left then right knocking the axe from the Drakken’s claw and scythed a horizontal slash to its side. The black blade cut deep into the monsters body just above the hip.
‘Heal that you bastard!’ hissed the Blacksword as the blood gushed over the blade. The Drakken roared, gripped the sword with his good hand and thumped his stump into the Blacksword’s chest sending him skidding along the cobbled road of the bridge. He quickly stood up and rushed forward to retrieve SinDex which was still imbedded in the Dragonstalker’s side. As he neared, the brute breathed in, making a deep whooshing sound, and unleashed a large Fireball that struck the bridge’s road and threw the Blacksword onto the air once again.
Some of the flames from the projectile surrounded the Blacksword and he used the Arts to dash them away into harmless mist as he was carried by the force of the explosion. He landed with feline grace on all fours and felt the bridge shake violently. The centre of the road took the full brunt of the Drakken’s flame. It hit the area that the creature had weakened from its landing, the large paved slabs of the road disintegrated and the long arching oak beams, which held up the road structure, split apart under the force of the ballistic energy. The hundred foot high supporting column instantly crushed under the Fireballs velocity and fragmented as it began to topple into the foam lashed sea.
The road beneath the Blacksword was breaking away under his feet. He scrambled backwards as the cracks on the slats and cobbles etched around him and grew larger. Chunks of the road fell away into the churning sea below as a long gap opened in the road between him and the Dragonstalker. The Blacksword struggled to find a handhold as he fell with the falling masonry, but it was no good, he was falling through the crumbling road.
He franticly sought for purchase as he felt himself slide down the broken edge. Then a white hand appeared out of nowhere, grasping his. He looked up into the eyes of a stranger, but Prince Havoc recognised him as Verkin. The captain’s face was chalk white and his sunken eyes looked strange, the pupils had dilated so much that they covered the irises making him look as emotionless as the Blacksword. The captain hauled him over the edge with as much strength as he could muster. The Blacksword noticed the long wounded on Verkin’s back.
A twelve-foot gap separated them from the Drakken and the creature was roaring in agony as it pulled SinDex from his body causing more of its blood to flow over the black blade and splash the bridges parapet.
The Blacksword stood beside Verkin at the broken edge. The blast had knocked his hood down revealing his face, pale and hard with the jet black eyes. Verkin made no comment at the revelation of the Blacksword’s true features, he watched the Drakken instead. The wounded captain gripped the long bladed Selnour firmly by the hilt and licked his lips nervously.
The Drakken’s wound in its side knitted together. It held the sword of prophesy by the hand-and-a-half hilt and looked up and down its length. The Blacksword smiled, he waited for the Fire Orrinn on the swords pommel to react to an enemy and send its pain to the beast.
Seconds ticked by. However, nothing happened.
The Blacksword frowned, confused, it should have worked by now.
The Drakken roared, crouched then leapt over the gap on the bridge; raising SinDex in front of him, aiming for the Blacksword
What happened next happened fast. With unnatural speed Verkin twisted round and kicked the Blacksword onto his back; he then turned to face the creature, Selnour raised; just as the creature landed on the captain’s side of the broken bridge.
The long black blade of the Sword that Rules went through Verkin’s chest exactly where his old wound had been; blood gushed from his mouth, and the Drakken leered at him through its reptilian eyes.
Everything seemed to slow down at that moment. The Blacksword rose to help the Raider officer and saw Verkin turn his head to look at him and smile. His eyes were completely black; it stopped him in his tracks. The captain looked down at Selnour in his left hand and sent the throbbing pain inside his head towards the blade.
Bright white light burst from the blade. It shimmered in a cocoon of superheat, and the Blacksword felt the captain use a Pyromantic Surge and he could not understand how that was possible.
With his last remaining strength, Verkin plunged Selnour into the soft charred chest of the Dragonstalker. The beast screamed and let go of SinDex’s hilt. Verkin stumbled against the sidewall of the bridge. With a grunt, he pulled the black blade from his body and let it drop to the floor as he slumped against the parapet; his torso coated in blood.
The Blacksword rushed to the screaming monster as the Pyromantic Fire burned within and without its body. Its scaly skin bubbled as the heat coursed through it. Sickly smoke issued from the burst and cracked skin, black smoke gushed from its mouth as its internal organs began to liquefy.
The Drakken teetered at the edge of the bridge, one more step back and it would fall over the edge. The Blacksword grasped the hilt of Selnour to steady it. There was a moment of balance as the Dragonstalker suddenly halted from its fall at a sixty-degree angle with the Blacksword as its counterweight holding the hilt of the Red Duke’s sword.
The dragon-like reptilian eyes of the Drakken looked with pleading at the emotionless black of the Blacksword’s; it mewed pitifully in its helpless torture.
‘Give my regards to Jynn,’ said the Blacksword and then grunted with satisfaction as he pulled out Selnour from the body of the beast.
The Drakken’s high-pitched wail followed it to the sharp rocks bellow as it tumbled end over end before hitting them and bouncing into the sea.
The Blacksword turned to Verkin propped up against the parapet. His eyes were no longer black, but back to their normal warm brown. The Blacksword frowned at the pale figure; the captain had obviously used a Pyromantic Surge to ignite Selnour, but how was that possible?
Sounds of footsteps on the bridge brought him out of his thoughts and he picked up SinDex and moved into a battle stance. The king, Prince Magnus, Lord Ness, and Sir Powyss were running towards him with swords ready.
‘Whow! Whow!’ said Powyss bringing Bor-Teaven to his side and waving at the Blacksword with the other, ‘hold on. It’s alright, it’s me, Powyss.’ The Blacksword relaxed as he recognised him. The other three he did not know, even though they seemed familiar, and so was still on his guard.
‘But...it’s... It’s Havoc, I think,’ said Magnus as he recognised his half brother.
‘Son,’ said Vanduke in a tremulous voice.
‘This is not Prince Havoc, my lords. It may partly resemble him, but rest assured, it is not he,’ answered Ness Ri.
They looked again in astonishment. The more they looked the more they realised the truth, and there were subtle differences’ in the features of the figure before them. The face was thinner, paler, the forehead was steeper and the dark eyes looked sunken under a larger brow. It was almost as if they were looking at a human skull.
Powyss was beside Verkin in an instant; franticly using the water element to stem the flow of blood. The captain’s breathing was shallow and rapid and Powyss could feel how faint his heartbeat was.
Ness Ri felt his hot brow, he looked at the concerned Powyss, and shook his head slowly.
With the king and Magnus still staring at the Blacksword in what looked like a mixture of pity and confusion, Havoc took full rain of his body again. His father and brother witnessed the change. They saw the colour come back into Havoc’s face and the blackness in his eyes fade away to the bright green that they knew so well. He shrunk a few inches and his clothes returned to their original colour apart from the cloak which remained as black as the night.
Havoc breathed out as if he had been holding his breath all the time. He dropped to his knees beside Verkin.
‘I can fix this, I’ve done it before!’ he said, nervously looking at the wound, ‘I’ll do it again.’
Lord Ness put a
hand on his shoulder, ‘it’s too late, your majesty,’ he said. Havoc looked into his and Powyss’s sad eyes and knew he were right.
‘NO!’ he yelled and a tear rolled down his face.
Verkin’s eyes were half closed. There was a bubbling sound in his throat as air sucked through blood.
‘Where are the others? Are they alright?’ asked Havoc.
‘Their helping Lord Rett put out the fire. The king ordered Rawns only to help you...I mean the Blacksword fight the Drakken,’ said Lord Ness.
Verkin suddenly gripped the prince’s hand; it was firm, not showing any weakness.
‘The pain has gone now, my lord. The queen is calling me to the Halls of the Heroes,’ he whispered and coughed blood down his chin and chest. It looked so bright against his pale skin.
‘Thank you,’ he continued, ‘thank you for extending my life.’ His head lolled back against the wall, a glazed look washed over his eyes. His grip on Havoc’s hand slackened and fell. The last gasp of air left his mouth, taking the life with it.
Chapter 26
Aftermath
His legend grew.
Due to his victories against the Vallkytes, the De Proteous now became honoured and respected as a great battle commander. Known to be brave and charismatic, daring and honest; people hailed him as the greatest swordsman on the island of Tattoium/Tarridun and a powerful warlord.
People dubbed him the First Sword of the Rawns, an honorary title from way back in antiquity.
His legend grew.
History records that after the liberation of Aln-Tiss the Rogun scribes wrote the history of the second civil war against the Roguns and the Vallkytes. While the first civil war, known as the War of the Pyromancer, lasted for around eighteen months, the second, due to its length, was broken down into three separate parts.
The first was of a direct result of the Rogun and Sonoran defeat at the Battle of Dragorsloth and the subsequent exile of the primary family of Cromme. Chroniclers named this period the War of the Exiles.