The Sword of Light: The Complete Trilogy

by Aaron Hodges

  There was a darkness inside him, even without the lingering touch of Archon’s magic. One born in the ruin of Oaksville, one that drove him to anger, to hate.

  He shivered as he slipped out the door, the morning air outside even cooler than inside the room. Regret twisted in his stomach as he closed the door behind him, but there was no going back now. He could not stay. Despite what Enala had said, they did not stand a chance against Archon. Not unless he acted.

  Jurrien had told him to pick up the Soul Blade when they ran out of other options. It seemed that time had come.

  Slipping through the silent corridors of the fortress, he made his way toward the council room. They had left the Soul Blade there, locked and guarded by two soldiers who stood outside. No one wanted to go near the thing after what had happened to Sylvander, even if they wrapped it in cloth first.

  Gabriel was not sure what he would do about the guards yet, but he knew what he had to do now. Archon’s vision had shown him the truth behind Jurrien’s words, the truth the God had done his best to hide. There was only one way to free the Storm God: to sacrifice himself, and allow Jurrien’s spirit to possess him.

  Just as his ancestor had done all that time ago.

  It did not take long to pass through the empty hallways. He encountered only a handful of soldiers along the way, those few who preferred an early breakfast before taking up their stations for the coming day. Not that there had been any attacks in the last two days. Archon had given them three days, and so far, he had kept his word. An uneasy peace hung over the fortress, the men making the most of the rest. They all knew it would be over soon enough.

  At last the door loomed, as nondescript as any other he had passed on the way. It stood unguarded and open, and Gabriel’s stomach twisted as he realised May must have ordered the Soul Blade moved after all. Even so, he pushed the door wider and moved inside.

  “Good morning, Gabriel,” Gabriel jumped as Eric spoke from the corner.

  He spun, searching out the young Magicker. “What are you doing here?” he hissed.

  Eric shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep,” he stood, moving across the room to the table. “Apparently, I’m going to be a father. The thought has my mind spinning.”

  Gabriel joined him and together they looked down at the Soul Blade. It still lay beside the table where it had fallen, untouched. Its faint blue glow filled the little room. Gabriel shuddered, remembering the last time he had touched it. Would he have the strength this time to hold back the magic, at least long enough to free the Storm God?

  “What happened to the guards?” Gabriel asked absently.

  “I sent them away,” Eric spoke softly. “I thought I would wait for you. I had a feeling you would come.”

  Gabriel looked across in surprise. “How?”

  Eric shrugged. “Intuition? Reason? I’m not sure. But I’ve seen the look in your eyes, the fear there whenever Archon is mentioned over the last two days,” Gabriel looked away from the knowledge in Eric’s eyes. “You fear you are like him, don’t you?”

  “Why else would he have chosen me to haunt?”

  “Because you don’t have magic,” Eric whispered. “It makes you vulnerable. But in truth…” he shuddered. “In truth he has come to me too, in my dreams. I did not remember them, not until he walked into this room. You are not the only one he has haunted. You are not the only one who has darkness within them.”

  Gabriel saw the ghost in Eric’s eyes and reached across to grasp his shoulder. “I forgive you, Eric,” he felt a tremble of relief as he spoke the words, as he felt the hate lift from his soul.

  Eric’s eyes watered as he stared back. A single tear spilt down his cheek. “Thank you, Gabriel,” he choked.

  They stood there in silence then, staring at the Soul Blade.

  “Now is not the time,” Eric said at last.

  Gabriel looked across at him. “What do you mean?”

  Eric met his gaze. “Now is not the time,” he repeated. “If you truly wish to do this, you have to say goodbye, Gabriel. You owe the others that much. Enala, Caelin, Inken, they love you – they deserve better,” he breathed out. “Besides, if Jurrien is freed, Archon will know. He will know we have rejected his offer, and we will lose our last day of peace. Better to wait, if that is what you mean to do.”

  “When?” Gabriel croaked, holding back tears of his own.

  “You will know, Gabriel. You will know.”

  Nineteen

  Caelin stood atop the rampart of the second wall and looked out at the enemy. They had unblocked the gates of the outer wall, burning the rubble and wooden doors to clear a path for their army. Now they lined the ramparts and packed the grounds at the foot of the wall, waiting just beyond the range of the defenders’ arrows. He knew more would be waiting outside the gates, eager to join the fray when the assault began.

  He glanced across at May, reading the fear on her pursed lips as she stared out at the challenge facing them. This wall was higher, thicker, stronger, and the defenders had rested for three days. Even so, their morale was low, their courage crumbling beneath the memory of the beasts.

  “We’ll hold them, May,” he growled.

  The woman looked up and forced a smile. “I know, Caelin, I know. I just hope Eric and the others can do their job.”

  Laughing, Caelin shook his head. “Let’s let them worry about their job, and us worry about ours, Commander.”

  “Easier said than done,” May muttered and then shook her head. “No, you’re right. There’s only so much one woman can do.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” Caelin turned as Inken walked up. Her eyes were alight with fire and he was surprised by the hope there. “We can certainly do more than these blokes here,” she waved at Caelin and Gabriel.

  Caelin chuckled. “What’s your tally again, Inken?” his chest tightened at the question. The competition between himself and Alan to slay the most enemy had been just one of their many bets. He bowed his head, sending up thanks again for the big man’s bravery.

  “I don’t feel the need to count,” Inken smiled and winked. “I know your numbers could never come close to mine.”

  “How much does a demon count for?” May grinned as she joined their banter.

  “Oh, I don’t know, I’d say at least a hundred,” Inken offered.

  It was Gabriel’s turn to laugh then. “Good, that catches me up somewhat then.”

  Caelin grinned, glad to see the life in the young man’s eyes. It was the first time he’d truly seemed himself since their imprisonment beneath the citadel of Ardath. A desire rose within him to reach out and draw Gabriel into a bear hug, but he resisted.

  “So it’s settled then,” Caelin turned to look out at the enemy. “It’s a draw between us men and you women.”

  “Pfff,” Inken stepped up beside him. “In your dreams, little man,” with her last words, Caelin knew she missed Alan’s presence as much as he did.

  He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. They stood together and waited then, the heat of the morning warming them. The crash of waves came from the distance and the tang of salt hung heavy on the air. Caelin breathed it in, relishing in the freedom of life.

  His gaze drifted along the wall to the centre where Eric and Enala stood. There they would make their final stand, backed by the combined might of the Magickers of the Three Nations. He wished with all his heart he could stand beside them, but he would only be a liability in that fight. He and Gabriel and Inken alike, though he did not know how they had convinced the other two to stand aside. If it had been his love waiting to face Archon…

  He shook his head as horns rang out from the enemy camp. Releasing a breath he had not realised he’d been holding, Caelin glanced at his companions. Inken nodded back, already stringing her bow. Steel rasped on leather as May and Gabriel drew their swords. Caelin reached down and did the same, his eyes drifting out to watch the enemy come.

  May’s cry rang out as the enemy came within range, carrying dow
n the wall as her officers repeated the call. The twang of bowstrings followed as the first volley took to the air, then the screams of the dying as the enemy wilted beneath the deadly rain. A second volley followed, and a third, and then the enemy was at the wall and there was no more time to keep count.

  Beside him, Inken tossed aside her bow and drew her blade. Caelin edged closer to her, determined to keep his friends safe. Gabriel stood on her other side, and May to his right, but he still felt the gap amongst them. Alan’s presence had been enormous and they would miss his steely courage in the coming fight.

  The thump of wood on stone heralded the arrival of the enemy. Staring at the ladders, Caelin gripped his sword tight and sucked in a breath.

  “Ready?” Inken asked.

  Caelin nodded. “Let them come.”

  *************

  Enala looked down at the enemy, watching as volley after volley decimated their ranks. Yet their numbers seemed without end and they came on, determined to wipe the defenders from the wall. As they closed in, the enemy archers began to fire back, and black shafted bolts flashed up towards them.

  Ducking beneath the crenulations, Enala glanced at Eric. He stood resolute beside her, a host of Magickers at his back. They came from every nation and discipline: The Sky Magickers of Lonia, the Earth Magickers of Plorsea, and the Light Magickers of Trola. They stood together atop the walls of Fort Fall, ready to give their lives to keep the darkness from their hearths.

  Eric glanced at her. “Ready?”

  Enala swallowed, looking down at the Soul Blade sheathed at her side. Dread curled up in her stomach and she had to will herself not to vomit. Her knees shook as raw terror robbed away her strength, but she nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Closing her eyes, she reached down and drew the Soul Blade from its scabbard.

  As her hands closed around the leather hilt a flash of green light lit her mind, burning its way up from the cold steel. Energy surged through her as a harsh glow threaded its way along her veins, twisting ever deeper. She gasped as pain burned her wrist, tearing at her concentration. Her eyes watered as the pressure within her built, but she bit back a second cry.

  From deep within a flame rose, her power responding to the threat of the foreign power. Its red light flickered, and then a tower of fire rose, beating back the twisting vines spreading from the Soul Blade. The two powers twisted in her mind, thrashing against one another for supremacy.

  Somehow, Enala sensed it was a battle her magic could not win, not without direction. Swallowing her fear, she reached out and grasped the flickering red flames and drew them to her. The magic fought against her touch, the flames turning to fangs that bit and tore at her soul, but still she held on, determined.

  At last the red flames calmed, and with a rush of elation she twisted her power into lines of red and sent it out to wrap about the God magic.

  The green light flashed again, igniting the deepest corners of her mind, but she did not flinch now. She held on as the God magic fought against its bindings and tore at her, desperate for freedom.

  You can do it, Enala, from somewhere came her brother’s voice, and biting her tongue, Enala drew her magic tighter. With one final jerk, the column of green collapsed in on itself, succumbing to the binds of her power.

  Enala breathed out and opened her eyes, finding Eric’s concerned face not three inches from her own.

  She smiled. “I have it.”

  Eric nodded back. “Well done. Then let’s go to work,” he turned to face the ranks of enemy below.

  Soldiers stood ahead of them, fending off those attackers who had already reached the battlements, but they parted now as Eric and Enala walked to the fore. The Magickers followed, flashes of their magic sizzling outward as they cleared the enemy from the ramparts.

  As Eric reached the edge of the wall he reached up and drew the Sword of Light. White light washed over the wall as flames leapt along the length of the blade. Enala glanced down at her Soul Blade, staring with hate at its brilliant green. It felt corrupted, wrong. Even so, they needed it.

  But even with the two God powers and all the Magickers aligned behind them, Enala doubted it would be enough. They still lacked the Storm God’s magic, and Eric and herself could not come close to mastering the God powers they possessed. The Earth magic of the Goddess might be pumping through her body, but she had yet to truly wield it. She would need to rely on instinct and guess work in the coming battle. The thought did not fill her with confidence.

  But still, they had to try. She glanced at the other Magickers, seeing the fear on their grim faces, and knew she could not back down. The odds they faced in the coming fight were far worse than hers. They had only their mortal magic to protect them.

  Enala drew in a long breath of salty air, struggling to calm her racing mind. Together they were about to draw the wrath of Archon down upon them. God powers or no, it would be a miracle if any of them survived.

  Below the enemy flooded across the killing ground between the walls, an endless black tide, fearless, unstoppable. Except they were about to stop it, to burn them all where they stood. Their angry voices rose up to wash over the defenders like thunder, but that would soon change.

  Moving to stand close to Eric, Enala reached deep within and unshackled the power of the Earth. Light spread from the Soul Blade, its green washing out to mingle with the white of the Sword. The glow slowly brightened, flashing out to cast the soldiers below in eerie shadows. For the first time that day, the enemy hesitated, their charge faltering as they paused to look up.

  But they were not without protection either. As with the beasts before, they were clothed in Archon’s magic. She could sense it now, a darkness rising from them like a foul scent, shielding them from fire and magic alike. It rose up above them, mingling with the power of the Sword and the Soul Blade.

  Thunder rolled across the Gap as the two forces came together, though the sky above remained clear. Enala gritted her teeth as she felt the force of darkness pushing back, driving off their power.

  It’s too strong, but even as Enala formed the thought, she sensed the building of power behind her as the other Magickers stepped up to join the fray. Light spread from their hands, red and white and blue and green shooting up to join the fray. Less than the God powers, but joined they still created a formidable force.

  Flame flashed across the sky, followed by the rumble of thunder as lightning crackled. Enala gritted her teeth, driving the magic of the Soul Blade outwards, straining to unleash its power on the enemy below. Bit by bit, the darkness started to give way to the elemental power streaming from the wall.

  A sudden snap reverberated through the air, followed by a whoosh as the dark magic flickered and went out. The combined magic of the Three Nations poured through into the void, streaming down towards the enemy below.

  The roar of Archon’s forces turned suddenly to screams as their magic erupted into life and chaos spread through their ranks. The flames came first, the white fire burning down to strike the massed ranks on the killing grounds, followed by the flash and crackle of lightning. Together they scorched all they touched.

  Green light flashed again from the Soul Blade as its power rushed from Enala to join the fray. Hate curled around her soul as she watched the slaughter. These men had come here to kill them, to destroy her people and murder her friends. They had allied themselves to darkness – this was what they deserved. Their souls were not worthy of pity, of mercy.

  The massacre spread through the enemy ranks, sweeping them back from the wall. As one they turned and fled, desperate to retreat back to the protection of their master.

  Enala would not allow it.

  Raising the Soul Blade, Enala drew on its magic, rejoicing in the surge of power flooding her weary body. Its green light flashed out over the enemy, chasing them across the killing field.

  A smile twisted Enala’s lips as her spirit soared with the magic. Reaching out, she gripped the ground beneath their fee
t, the green light of the Earth seeping deep into the soil. Then, with casual ease, she hauled it back.

  As one the enemy crumpled like leaves as the ground shifted beneath them, driving them to their knees. Terrified faces looked up at the wall, desperate for mercy, but they would find none there. The earth groaned and tore apart, swallowing pockets of men before they could so much as scream.

  Looking down at the enemy, Enala began to laugh, taking joy from their terror. Magickers turned to stare at her, but she waved aside their concern. She breathed out, releasing her grip on the earth. As the shaking slowed the enemy climbed to their feet and fled towards the far off gate, desperate to escape her deadly power.

  With a shake of her head, Enala waved the Soul Blade again.

  A groan rose up from below as the ground before the outer gates exploded, hurling chunks of dirt and stone across the killing field. Vines twisted their way up into view, a great thicket of impassable thorns taking form in the instant between blinks. The snakelike vines whipped upwards, tearing into the enemy who still stood atop the ramparts of the outer wall. On the killing field the enemy drew to a halt, staring at the impassable barrier now blocking their path.

  Then the thicket moved again, turning from the now empty wall to the enemy below. Snakelike threads of green flashed out, snatching men from their feet and dragging them screaming into the impenetrable depths of the copse. Hundreds fell, torn to shreds before the might of the Earth, before the power in Enala’s hands.

  Turning away, Enala nodded to the other Magickers. “They’re all yours,” she smirked.

  She moved away down the ramparts, thrilling in the pull of the power within her. Before she could take three steps a hand grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her. Growling, Enala swung the Soul Blade, the razor sharp steel striking for Eric’s head. The Sword of Light rose up to block the blow and sparks of green and white scattered across the bricks.

  Eric stepped back, his eyes wide with shock, his mouth agape. “Enala, what the hell was that?”

  Enala stared back, the Soul Blade slipping from her fingers. It clattered to the stones, the green glow dying to a whisper. As she released it, the hate curling its way around her soul fell away and she gasped. The blood fled her face and she swayed, feeling suddenly faint. She wavered, and would have fallen had Eric not caught her.