by Aaron Hodges
“What… What have I done?” she whispered.
Eric shook his head. “It was necessary,” he shook her, forcing her to look at him. “We said before this started we could show them no mercy, that we had to break their spirit. I’d say we’ve done that,” he paused. “Except it was not you, was it?”
Enala shuddered. “No… yes… I’m not sure!” she closed her eyes. “I… I don’t think I’ve ever felt hate like that, so intense, so powerful.”
Eric’s eyes flashed and he drew her into his arms. “You did well, Enala. It was the Soul Blade; it was whatever black magic Archon left embedded in it.”
She nodded, feeling tears in her eyes and burying her head in Eric’s shoulder to hide them. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Eric,” she gasped, her words half-muffled. “How long I can keep fighting. It’s too hard, too awful.”
His arms squeezed her tight. “I know. Even the Sword has its own darkness. Each time I use it, it feels as though I lose a bit more of myself, like a bit more of me is burnt away. But we have to keep going, just a little bit longer.”
Enala bit her tongue to keep herself from crying. Before she could find a reply, a scream from behind interrupted her thoughts. They spun together and saw the group of Magickers staggering backwards, their faces pale. One stumbled a step too far and tripped through the gap in the crenulations. He disappeared without so much as a scream.
“Pick up the Soul Blade,” Eric hissed, moving past her, the Sword of Light crackling in his hands.
Enala swallowed. Steeling herself, she reached down and lifted the Soul Blade. Its power swept through her once more and the bitter bite of hatred returned. She struggled to push it down, holding the love for her brother and her friends close to her heart.
Taking a breath, she followed after Eric.
Below, the killing ground lay piled with the enemy dead, with the thousands who had fallen to their magic. Now the few survivors no longer fled, but were turning back to face them, their faces twisted with a wicked joy. Enala squinted her eyes, straining to see what was happening.
A dark light seeped through the thicket by the gate, spreading out to cover the last of the enemy force. Where it touched her vines they withered and died, whilst the ranks of enemy straightened, their burns and injuries fading to nothing.
The darkness spread across the plain and through it came Archon, his stride calm and measured, as though he did not walk through a field of his dead. The feathered cloak fluttered out around him, caught on the ocean winds, but he did not slow. His face registered no emotion, no hint of compassion for his fallen soldiers. His eyes stared straight ahead, fixed on the ramparts where Eric and Enala stood.
“What now?” Enala whispered.
“Now it ends,” Eric growled, the veins of his wrist straining as he gripped the Sword of Light tighter.
Wind whipped around them and then Enala felt the familiar lifting sensation beneath her feet. She flashed Eric a grim smile and nodded. Together they lifted off the wall and dropped to the killing field below. Behind them the Magickers hesitated, looking from one to the other. But after a moment they followed, the Sky Magickers amongst them lifting the others and carrying them down.
Enala caught the eyes of the leaders and nodded, then returned her attention to Archon. A wave of relief swept through her; at least they would not be alone in this fight. The other Magickers had already helped to break Archon’s magic once today. Perhaps they might stand a chance after all.
They came together in the centre of the field: Archon standing alone amidst the legion of his dead, Eric and Enala with all the might of the Three Nations behind them.
Archon wore a grim smile as his cold blue eyes surveyed them. “So, Enala,” he rasped. “You have finally tasted the magic of the Soul Blade. How does it feel, to wield such power, to cast such destruction upon your enemies? Does it call to you?”
Enala swallowed and scowled back. She gripped the Soul Blade tighter, the truth of Archon’s words clear on her face. “It doesn’t matter – we have made our decision. We will never serve you.”
Archon laughed. “If only life were so simple, my child. My offer was only meant to lessen your suffering, to spare you the pain of what is to come,” he spread his arms and Enala sensed the dark power crackling around them. “But make no mistake; you will serve me. Your refusal will not stop that,” he took a step towards them and Enala could not help but shrink back.
But Eric stood strong. “You are wrong, Archon.”
“Ah, young Eric, ever the optimist. But you do not see,” Archon waved a hand and the very air around them darkened. “You never stood a chance in this fight, my child. You have only ever been able to delay the inevitable. But the end was never in question,” his cold eyes locked them in his gaze. “I will break those feeble bodies of yours, shatter your souls. And then I will unleash the untamed God powers on each of you.”
A chill swept through Enala’s heart as Archon’s words seeped in. Could that truly be his plan – to crush their resistance and then allow the God magic to take them? She shivered, remembering the helpless terror as the God power had taken control of her body. To suffer that fate for eternity…
Archon laughed. He waved at the dead around him. “In truth, I am impressed by your strength, your ruthlessness. You have made me proud,” he smiled. “But no more. This ends today. I will see this fortress torn down, stone by stone, and the last resistance of your Three Nations ground to dust,” with that Archon raised his fist.
Shadows swirled around his clenched hand, spreading outwards in a ball of all-consuming darkness.
Enala swallowed and gripped the Soul Blade hard in her fist. She glanced at Eric and nodded.
Eric nodded back. “Now or never?”
Twenty
Eric swallowed his fear and roared. The white-hot flames of the Sword of Light bathed his face as he pointed the blade. Light flashed and a rush of energy swept through him, leaving his every muscle quivering and his magic flickering with renewed strength.
Archon still stood in place with his arm raised, concentration etched across his ageless features. Eric stared at the gathering darkness, the very sight sending a shiver of fear right to his soul. They had to stop him, before he could unleash that power. A rush of magic came from beside him as Enala drew on the power of her Soul Blade, then from behind as the other Magickers gathered their strength.
Now or never, Eric repeated the words, and pointed the Sword.
White fire rushed from the blade and raced towards the dark Magicker. Enala’s cry echoed his own, followed by the rush of Earth magic, and then there was only Archon, and the battle for survival.
Archon threw down his fist as the inferno reached him. With a whoosh the flames vanished into the gathered darkness. A second later the earth beneath him tore open, revealing a crevice leading down to the depths of hell itself.
Archon only smiled as he hung in the air, his head rolling on his shoulders as though to remove a crick in his neck. He drifted over the gap and dropped back to the earth.
Fear gripped Eric, but there was no time to retreat now. He reached again for the magic of the Sword, drawing on the power of the world around him, and hurled it at Archon. The lines connecting the world bent inwards before the white energy of the Sword and then its invisible force struck the dark Magicker, hurling him out over the gaping canyon.
For a second Archon’s eyes widened, but he still did not fall. Instead he twisted in the air, a dark grin on his face, and threw out his hand. Eric’s heart fell into his stomach as a wave of darkness swept towards him. Backing away, Eric summoned the white magic within and hurled it outwards. Pure energy crackled around him as the power of the Light rose up to meet the darkness.
A boom came as the two forces met, but within seconds the light was overwhelmed. The dark surged forwards and Eric barely managed to throw himself clear. He rolled across the hard ground, coming to a rest alongside a fallen body. Looking away from the burnt
ruin of a man, Eric pulled himself to his feet, the Sword still clenched tight in his hand.
Archon stood calmly ten feet away, arms folded and a thin smile on his lips. Gritting his teeth, Eric fed his anger to the magic of the Sword, and charged. Flames crackled along the blade as he swung it at the dark Magicker, its white light casting them all in shadow.
With an almost sadistic slowness, Archon reached up and caught the Sword of Light with his empty hand. Eric cursed as the blade shuddered in his fist and his arm went numb, but he refused to drop his only weapon against the darkness. Straining his arms, he released the power of the Sword from his grasp, allowing it free reign. The magic crackled and roared, the heat of its white fire sweeping out to bathe them both.
Archon cursed and thrust the Sword aside. His fist swept out and caught Eric in the face. As it connected a dark energy coursed through him and suddenly he was airborne, hurtling backwards toward the group of Magickers. Raising his arms, he braced himself for impact and prayed the Sword would not injure him.
Before he could hit the hard ground a gust of wind rushed up to catch him. He gasped in a breath of cold air as the winds lowered him gently to the ground, and nodded his thanks to a woman in blue robes. The other Magickers gathered around him then, and together they turned towards the dark Magicker.
Enala beat them to it. The green flash of her Soul Blade swept out across the field, followed by a rumble from deep within the earth. Dirt flew through the air as vines erupted from the ground, the thick tendrils thrashing out to trap Archon in their iron grasp.
Archon smiled and raised a hand. A dark glow seeped from his skin, and as the thorny vines reached him they suddenly stiffened and turned black. Then they were turning back on themselves, leaving the dark Magicker untouched and rushing for Eric’s sister.
Eric raised the Sword of Light and swung it, unleashing its white inferno on the thicket. The flames swept through the black and green, turning all they touched to ash. Smoke spread across the open ground, hiding Archon from view as Enala stumbled back to join them.
Straining his eyes, Eric searched the smoke for sign of Archon. He could sense his dark magic building again. The power made his head throb, more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before.
Then suddenly Archon was there, arms raised, and a wave of darkness swept towards them. Eric flinched back, the Sword raised before his face, its magic rising to meet the oncoming force. But this time the black magic did not so much as slow. It came on, death incarnate, ready to claim them all.
A brilliant flash of light lit the air, and then a rush of energy swept past him. Fire and lightning crackled in its midst, the very earth itself spitting open at its passage. He staggered as the combined magic of their allies warped the world around them. With a boom it struck Archon’s dark magic and shattered it. Gathering force, it swept on.
Archon roared as the magic found him and ignited. The air shook and the ground splintered, cracks racing out as a shock wave knocked them from their feet. Flames soared into the sky and crashed down towards them, but before Eric could reach for the Sword’s magic, Enala was there. She raised her empty fist and hurled the fire back on itself, protecting them all from its wrath.
Eric spared her a nod as he climbed back to his feet. Behind them, he could feel the energy gathering as the Magickers prepared another attack. Taking a firmer grip of the Sword, he added its strength to theirs. Power warped the air between them, the skies overhead darkening as lightning rippled across the underbellies of the clouds.
A low growl echoed across the barren field. Eric turned back to the pillar of smoke rising from where Archon had stood. A boom shook the air and a gust of wind rushed outwards, tearing the smoke from the ground and snuffing out the last of the flames.
Archon stood amidst the scorched earth, his face twisted now with rage, his shoulders hunched as he summoned his power. Darkness collected in his fists, swirling out like storm clouds – though Eric could sense nothing of the Sky in that magic. Only evil, only death.
Throwing out his fist, Archon unleashed the chaos gathered there.
Fear swept across the faces of the Magickers as Archon’s power surged towards them, but they did not waver. They stood as one, arms raised, and unleashed their gathered magic. The forces surged towards each other, meeting again with a boom and a roar. This time though it was the black magic that won, swallowing up the swirling colours of their attack. Ripples of energy raced outwards as the magic scattered, forcing Eric and Enala to retreat.
The other Magickers were not so lucky. They staggered as their magic shattered, some crumpling to the ground with the shock of their magic’s loss. Blood gushed from the eyes and noses of others as they stumbled blindly amidst their comrades.
Either way, it did not matter. The wave of shadow magic came on, unrelenting.
And together, the Magickers of the Three Nations fell screaming before the power of Archon.
*************
Gabriel stared as the Magickers aiding Eric and Enala disappeared beneath the wave of dark magic. A dread silence fell across the wall, the defenders on the battlements reduced now to silent spectators in their own war. They stood helpless before the powers aligned beneath them, their fates in the hands of those below.
And they were losing.
Swallowing, Gabriel turned away. The time had come. He felt a pang of regret as he looked down at Enala one last time. Despite Eric’s words, he had said nothing of his decision to the girl. And now it was too late.
Tears burned in his eyes but he wiped them away, pushing down his fear. This was a sacrifice he had to make. There was no other choice; they would not survive without aid, and there was only one being powerful enough to shift the balance.
“Gabriel, where are you going?” Inken’s voice stopped him at the top of the stairs.
He turned back, the lies catching in his throat as her eyes caught his. He bowed his head. “I am going to free Jurrien. It’s the only way we stand a chance.”
Inken stared, mouth open. Emotion swept across her face and for a moment Gabriel thought she would try to stop him. She shook her head, glanced at Caelin, and closed her eyes. A tear ran down her cheek, then she was stepping up to him, pulling him into her embrace. He hugged her back, drawing strength from her presence.
He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and looked up at Caelin. “Good luck, Gabriel,” the sergeant’s voice was soft, almost breaking. “You’re a brave soul.”
Gabriel nodded back as he disengaged himself from Inken. She wore a small smile on her face now, but she did not look away. “Thank you, Gabriel. Good luck.”
Gabriel sucked in a shaky breath and turned away before they saw his tears. He forced himself not to look back, knowing that if he did, he would lose his nerve. The pull of life was strong now, the call of the shadows a dim reflection of what the world could offer him.
Friends, love, life.
But he had to leave that behind, say goodbye to the promise of a new future.
If only so the others could have what he longed for.
The race to the citadel seemed to pass in an instant, his feet treading the familiar path by intuition alone. His mind was far away, joying in the three days he had spent with Enala. They had passed far too quickly.
At last he found himself back in the council room, staring down at the blue glow of the Soul Blade. The guards on duty only nodded as Gabriel swept past – he was expected. Eric and May had made sure of that.
Gabriel blew out a long sigh, his chest constricting not with exertion but fear.
I can do this! He whispered in the silence of his mind.
You can, a voice answered back, and whether it was his own, or some last vestige of the dark magic, or Jurrien, or someone else, he could not have guessed.
Either way, it was enough.
Reaching down, Gabriel wrapped his hand around the hilt of the Soul Blade.
*************
Enala swore as she flung herself backwards,
a dark shadow tearing through her jacket. The metallic scent of blood bit the air, sending her back another step. Pain stabbed at her arm. She spared it a glance and then looked away. Blood soaked her sleeve, but already the Earth magic was rising from the Soul Blade, driven by instinct, restoring the strength in her arm.
She had already repeated the feat several times for both herself and Eric. She moved by instinct alone now, at one with the green glow of the earth magic, sending it out to heal the cuts and bruises before they could slow them.
Yet despite their best efforts, Archon remained untouched, with barely a mark on his clothes or skin. With the other Magickers dead, they were hopelessly outmatched. But then, even with their aid it had never been a fair fight.
Still they would not surrender. A chill ran through Enala’s blood at the thought of the fate Archon planned for them. She would rather die than allow the God magic to make a puppet of her again, than to watch on, helpless, as it destroyed her friends. To suffer beneath the yoke of her magic as a thousand years passed, unable to have even the final relief of death.
Fear fed Enala’s anger and she brought about the Soul Blade, drawing on its power to attack again. The earth shook beneath her feet, a crack tearing open and racing towards their foe. Archon watched it come, an amused smile on his lips.
Drawing on her own magic, Enala shot her brother a glance. Eric nodded back, and as the gulf opened up beneath Archon, they unleashed their attack. Lightning leapt from Eric’s hands as Enala hurled her flames.
Their combined energies lashed out, striking Archon squarely in the chest. The dark Magicker only raised his arms and laughed, but they were not done. Pointing the Sword of Light, Eric unleashed its magic. White fire joined the conflagration, and then an invisible force gripped Archon and drove him down into the crevice.