Blood Immortal

by Paul Centeno

  “Caution is my middle name,” said Scar, taking off.

  The new guardian flew sky-high, hastily approaching the dragon’s domain. Moments later, the swollen clouds released a torrential downpour of rain. Lightning flashed alongside the duo, deafening thunder filling their ears. Entering the dark clouds, they both searched for the dragon thoroughly. Scar was able to see better than Aarian, but it still proved a bit difficult for him to spot the possessed creature of flight.

  Then, from the corner of his eye, Scar managed to see something fly toward him within the clouds. He promptly swooped left, maneuvering in a loop as the demonic dragon lunged forward. Snapping its jaws at Scar, it missed his feathery tail by an inch. Scar, being a much smaller beast of flight, was quick enough to flank the dragon. That instant, Scar glided beneath the dragon’s body, at which point Aarian stretched out his arm and sliced a part of its stomach. Blood squirted out, the dragon yelping monstrously. It immediately turned around and spewed fire at the duo.

  Scar descended rapidly, evading the flame. He then flew through the clouds, drenched by the rain. Numerous flashes of lightning occurred, one appearing only a few feet away in front of them. Scar almost decided to swerve around what with him being surprised by the sudden flicker but stayed on course, increasing his speed. The dragon, meanwhile, wasn’t far behind him, flying at a fast pace.

  “Hang on tight,” said Scar.

  Once again, the dragon attempted to hurl flame at them. Scar, however, was far enough not to be affected by it. When the fire dissipated, he turned around and flew directly toward the dragon. At first, Aarian wasn’t sure why Scar was doing this. Then he smiled at him and raised his sword.

  “Excellent thinking,” he said.

  Replying with a nod, Scar flew past the dragon on the right side while Aarian swiped his sword to the left, cutting a part of its wing off. Screeching in pain, the possessed dragon swiped its spiky tail at Scar in retaliation. He zigzagged around the swirling tail, Aarian hacking it off. Blood gushed out from its torn appendage, the beast yelping so loud that the prince thought he was going to become deaf.

  “Let’s finish this, Scar.”

  The patriarch gryphon agreed, now flying overhead the black-scaled dragon that started to descend from the clouds. At this point, the alliance could see them battle. Deadly fire spewed from the dragon’s mouth yet again as it rotated upside down. Scar, however, rotated in sync with the creature, Aarian holding on tight with one hand while holding out his other. While upturned, Aarian thrust his blade into one of the dragon’s eyes. This time the demonic beast groaned, blood and pus spilling out. Then it fell lifelessly near the mountains, slamming so hard against a cluster of rocks that a violent landslide occurred.

  “We did it!” shouted Scar elatedly, gliding back to the alliance. “We kicked the hell out of him!”

  “That we did, my friend,” said Aarian, smiling.

  Though still disconcerted and disheartened due to the death of the emperor, when the duo returned, the legion greeted them with countless applauses, praises, howls, and joyful grunts. As soon as Aarian dismounted Scar, the other Guardians of Xen lifted him while cheering. Many of the savages patted Aarian’s best friend. Scar blushed, especially when Shakar rubbed her snout against his feathers.

  “This is splendid,” said Aarian awkwardly. “Truly, it is. But can you all please put me down?”

  The guardians laughed and obeyed.

  “You sure have changed, Prince Aarian,” said Xel’vakora. “I mean, considering how things were when we first traveled through Tor’kales...”

  “I know,” sighed Aarian, aware of the brat he used to be.

  “That was unbelievable,” said Parla’vasa, gawking at him. “You were already a dragon slayer. But this? I’ve never seen anyone fight like that before.”

  “Please,” said Aarian, waving a hand. “I would have never been able to slay it without the help of Scar.” He embraced his best friend, rubbing his feathers. “You came at the perfect time. We make a great team.”

  “That we do,” he said happily, squawking. “By the way, I take it you’re no longer Prince Moody?” The response he received was a long look; then they both chuckled heartily. “I had thought the worst. When the temple in Jerelaith shattered and demons started descending from the heavens, I abandoned all hope.”

  “Back then I had abandoned all hope too,” he said.

  “But things are different,” said Scar. “There is hope after all. Seeing you return with this army has made me so very proud of you. If only Master Dargain and Magi Frostwarm could see the man you have become.”

  Aarian nodded, a bit teary eyed.

  “All right,” intervened Varkagorsa, “enough with the sappy stuff. I know you’ve missed each other. But we have a war to win.”

  “Right,” said Aarian, sniffing and tightening his face. “Scar, you’ve managed to survive here for the past five and a half years despite what’s happened. Have you seen anything as of late that we should be concerned with?”

  “You mean besides a swarm of demons and undead humyns?” replied Scar. “Um, nope I don’t think so. Oh, wait. Actually, aside from the thousands that roam around the ruined cities, I noticed several demons that stand out from others. In fact, this may be heard to believe, but they have opened a hell rift in Jerelaith.”

  Many groaned and gasped.

  Aarian cursed under his breath. “I had a feeling this would happen. Xen warned me about this. We must reach Jerelaith and seal it.”

  “The demons come first,” said the warlord.

  “What comes first, Varka, is a good day’s rest,” responded Aarian. “We just survived a battle against four possessed dragons. It’s raining hard. And many of us are tired. I say we set up camp here and leave at dawn—the demons will be more vulnerable at that time.”

  Most of the alliance agreed and then helped the guardians create makeshift tents. Though the temporary pavilions scattered around the barren land helped, water still seeped through their tents. Yet they made do and attempted to rest. During this time, Aarian explained everything he had been through to Scar.

  “I can’t believe one dark elf caused so much destruction,” said Scar glumly. “Though, it does make me happy to know that you were able to vanquish him.”

  “The descendents of Yunedar will never know he existed,” replied Aarian.

  And with that said, they felt more at peace. At this point, Aarian entered his drenched tent and tried to sleep. Even though Scar watched over the prince outside for three hours, he was the first who fell into a deep slumber. Aarian, on the other hand, couldn’t fall asleep. He simply had too much on his mind.

  He wondered whether Xen had truly given up her Spirit in order to give him a second chance. And though he didn’t show his feelings as outwardly as others, he felt a bit of despair that Earamathras had died. Would he be able to purge the demons from the world? He wasn’t sure. But having Scar by his side again made him feel slightly more optimistic. In a land filled with death and destruction, his best friend had managed to survive. Thinking about something positive for a change, he was finally able to relax and fall asleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  WRATH OF THE UNDEAD

  Night arrived and passed rapidly. Pouring rain continued to patter against the tents. The ground became saturated, mist forming around the encampment. Then dawn came. Yet it was so cloudy and foggy outside that no one could see a hint of sunshine. Eventually, the legion brought down their tents. When the alliance assembled, they formed into two lines. Aarian approached through the middle, between both formations. Upon reaching the frontlines, he faced his comrades.

  “Yesterday was another victory,” said Aarian. “Yet it came at a great cost. Earamathras sacrificed himself so that we could gain a stronghold here. And though we have taken back the southern coast of Vlydyn, there is still much to be done. As we prepare to march through what was once Tor’kales, be ready for anything—demons and undead alike.” Pausing for
a moment, Aarian exhaled and added, “I ask that you come forth with me and destroy these fiends. But I will not blame anyone for wanting to retreat when we face Izabaldo’s demon lords.”

  “We are with you until the end, Dralekar,” said Warlord Varkagorsa. “Isn’t that right, brethren?”

  The alliance roared in agreement, making the prince smile.

  “Excellent,” said Aarian, turning to his guardians. “Falvorn, I want you and your clan to scout ahead.”

  “As you command, Dralekar,” said Falvorn, taking off with his fellow gargoyles.

  Aarian mounted Scar and faced the volcanic mountains as he raised his sword. “Onward to Tor’kales!”

  Thousands advanced through the badlands wrought with cracks, abysmal sinkholes, and streams of lava. Not once did they see a single tree. The entire wilderness that was once known as Grisfall had been burned down. And the gargantuan mountains where the ancient kingdom of Tor’kales was once located had become a demonic furnace. The sky turned orange-red, smoke rising and filling the air.

  Many coughed as they marched forward. Ahead became hazy. It was extremely difficult for anyone to see. Scar was the only one who could see better than others, but even he struggled. The coalition heard blistering bubbles of molten lava and slowed down their pace, fearing they might accidently stubble into a pit of fire. Searing magma dripped down the crags near them. Unbearable heat gripped them, causing hundreds of savages and elves to sweat. Passing by the fuming volcanoes proved to be more difficult than they imagined.

  Just when they thought it couldn’t get worse, Falvorn and his remaining clan of gargoyles approached with distraught visages.

  “Dralekar!” shouted Falvorn while descending. “Dralekar! We must pull back our forces immediately!”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Aarian, flying a few feet above his army on Scar.

  “A legion of undead approaches,” answered Falvorn. “They know we are here. And they march with a massive demon.” He caught his breath and went on, “Light of Xen, I’ve never seen such a fiend before.”

  “Do you hear this, brothers and sisters?” responded Aarian. He maneuvered Scar to face his army. “The demons want us to be afraid. But it is they who are in fact afraid. The immortal, accursed Spirits are using my enslaved people as a first wave because they need to prepare for the ultimate legion that we are. Unsheathe your weapons and be ready to slay those who should have found peace in death like normal mortals. And make no mistake about this—when we are finished obliterating them, my beloved Vlydyonians will never rise again.”

  “For the Dralekar!” bellowed many of the savages in unison.

  The alliance unsheathed their weapons and charged forward. Hundreds of them wore expressions of madness as they advanced. And sure enough, when the legion passed the thick haze caused by volcanic eruptions, they were able to see millions of undead approaching them. The swarm of undead were all humyn. Even though Aarian knew this, seeing them with his own eyes pained him. His eyes downcast, he raised his sword and roared at the top of his lungs:

  “Purge them all!”

  Within seconds the factions of life and death incarnate collided, weapons clinking and sparking amid the pouring magma alongside them. The vast majority of undead humyns were skeletons but some still had rotten pieces of flesh clinging to them. Bones cracked, splintered, and shattered. Flesh tore open. Limbs were hacked off, blood squirting all over the desecrated ground. Though outnumbered, the alliance managed to overpower their enemies, decimating half the undead forces. During the carnage, however, the fallen undead rose again, as well as those of the alliance who had just died.

  “We can’t win,” panicked Parla’vasa, on the verge of retreating.

  “Behead them,” commanded Aarian, swooping down on Scar as he decapitated a humyn ghoul. “Do not fear them, fellow guardians. They are nothing more than mindless puppets of the demons. Put them out of their misery.”

  The tens of thousands of warriors and warlocks still alive obeyed him, doing their best to decapitate the undead and hurl fireballs at them. Doing so, as Aarian had advised, prevented the corpses from rising again. Just then, a mist of darkness enveloped the battlefield. Whispers of an unknown tongue filled the ears of both savages and elves. To many of them, especially Aarian, it sounded diabolical. With the exception of Xel’vakora, the alliance fought on. The only dark elf in the legion backed away, terrified as he spotted what approached within the mist of death.

  Behind the swarm of undead stood a sixteen-foot tall black-skinned demon with obsidian horns and fiery-red eyes. Its skeletal wings were partially covered in the dark mist it produced. Not surprising to Aarian, etched on its upper chest was a nine-pointed star. When the demon lord approached the battlefield, it gave out a monstrous roar.

  “Fear me, mortals!” boomed the malevolent fiend. “The demon you now face is Gar’kon! This battlefield is nothing more than your graveyard. Know that as your corpses fall, they shall rise again to serve me!”

  Countless elves shuddered and withdrew.

  “You cannot surrender, Gar’kon,” said Aarian, rising higher in the sky. “There shall be no clemency for the likes of you.”

  “Surrender?” replied Gar’kon, frowning as he gazed skyward at Aarian. “Pathetic humyn, I will personally make sure you die a billion different deaths! And if you dare beg for mercy, I’ll torture you for eternity!”

  “I’m going to enjoy tearing your Spirit apart,” said Aarian wrathfully.

  Aarian tugged Scar to fly swiftly toward the demon who gazed at him with utter hatred, never more insulted by someone he thought to be a mortal. As soon as the prince advanced, his eyes gleamed blue, and his sword’s blade glowed with an aura of light akin to Xen’s radiance. The moment Gar’kon witnessed this, he squinted at the prince.

  “So you’re the one she has entrusted her Spirit to,” said the demon lord.

  Without responding, Aarian swooped down on Scar and cut off one of Gar’kon’s horns. The demon roared furiously, hurling a sphere of black energy at the gryphon who barely evaded it. When he missed, he spread his wings and flew into the sky, pursing the duo. In the meantime, Falvorn saw what was happening and signaled his clan to aid the prince who deflected an orb of demonic magic with his enchanted sword in midflight.

  “You’re disappointing me, Spirit of death,” taunted Aarian.

  Fuming with rage, Gar’kon conjured a wave of black flame and was about to hurl it at Aarian when unexpectedly attacked by the clan of gargoyles. Though he had been clawed several times around his back and chest, he managed to transform the wave of energy he’d just invoked into a transparent shield that enveloped him. Moments later, it pulsed outward like an explosion and vaporized the gargoyles.

  “Falvorn!” cried out Aarian, escaping the blast by a couple of inches.

  “Come forth, immortal humyn,” said Gar’kon, cackling as he continued to pursue him. “I shall be more than happy to consume your pitiful Spirit.”

  Fixing his icy eyes on the demon, Aarian tugged Scar to approach the demon and closed his visor. He then stood on the gryphon’s back. Scar wasn’t sure what the prince had in mind but trusted him. The malevolent fiend, meanwhile, conjured yet another sphere of deadly magic. At the same moment Gar’kon hurled the orb, Aarian leapt off Scar who swiftly descended, avoiding it. Aarian struck the orb in half and then thrust his sword into the heart of Gar’kon.

  The demon lord gave out a croaking roar while he descended from the clouds. Before landing, however, his croak turned into a cackle. Aarian pushed his glowing sword deeper into his chest. Still laughing, the demon exhaled on Aarian whose beak-shaped visor eroded within seconds. When this happened, Aarian grimaced and removed his sword from the fiend. He then swiped it across the demon lord’s neck, decapitating him.

  At that precise moment, while falling, the demon lord’s Spirit emerged. It quickly started to drain Aarian of his soul. Groaning and slightly aging, Aarian sheathed his sword and conjured a trident of pure ligh
t by means of Xen’s white magic, hurling it through the ethereal being who then screeched and tore apart. When this happened, a shockwave erupted from the dying Spirit that enveloped the battlefield, causing the remaining undead fiends to disintegrate into ashes. Afterwards, the Spirit of death, whose ethereal chest had been punctured by the trident of light, dissipated.

  Aarian, meanwhile, continued to fall. Before hitting the ground, however, Scar flew by and caught him. Bringing him down safely, he rejoined the remaining thousands who grieved over their losses. Though triumphant, it cost them greatly again. Falvorn, along with every other gargoyle in the swarm, had been killed. Even worse was that there were no bodies to bury; they had disintegrated due to the deadly spell. Very few people praised Aarian who didn’t even want the praise. He simply nodded and gazed at the hazy battlefield with sadness.

  “So many honorable lives lost,” he mumbled.

  “It’s not your fault, Aarian,” said Parla’vasa. “I had never been more afraid. Many of us were frightened by what we experienced today. But we somehow survived. And thanks to you, we—”

  “Thanks to me,” interjected Aarian despondently, “Falvorn is dead. Thanks to me every gargoyle has been brutally murdered.”

  “That’s not true,” snarled Shakar. “He joined you in combat upon his own volition. He alone knew the risks and fought, like you and all of us, for what he believed in. Falvorn died a noble death.”

  “He and his clan shall be remembered forever,” said Varkagorsa. “Let there be a grand memorial here in their name.”

  Shakar howled in agreement.

  “I...I can’t believe that was Gar’kon,” blurted Xel’vakora in a frail, whispering tone. “It couldn’t have been.”

  “You be knowin’ the truth, dark elf,” replied Zavoba. “This be just as the Dralekar ‘n our emperor say. He only one of the spirits corruptin’ our land, ‘n it be up to us to send ‘em back to hell.”

  “No, Zavoba,” said Aarian tersely. “That’s no longer good enough. We will amputate their bodies and tear their Spirits apart until nothing left remains of them, here and in the nether. As a matter of fact, when we are finished with them, the nether realm will no longer exist. There will only be Yunedar—a world empty of demonic spirits.”