by Ben Alderson
“There is still time,” I said.
“Time, I have certainly had plenty of that wretched thing. But I am afraid to be the barer of bad news, your chances are up. It is too late.”
I didn’t need to look at my arm to know the bleeding was slowing. It had only been a few days since I had stopped taking Forbian, perhaps it was still in my system? Not wanting to take my eyes of Gordex, I was relieved to hear Emaline shouting at Marthil.
“You,” Emaline spat. “Get away from me, you bitch!”
“Stop fussing.” The annoyance in Marthil’s voice was strong. It was followed by the clap of a hand.
I turned to look and saw Emaline’s cheek blossom with red under Marthil’s slap.
Emaline was also bound, but her legs and feet were free to kick out against Marthil. She had a few attempts before the ground shivered, and the sand rose above her flailing limbs. It soon solidified, keeping her ankles bound to the ground, yet it didn’t stop. Emaline kept fighting, knocking out her head for Marthil, even spitting and turning her torso violently. She put up a good fight until a sharp intake of breath caused us all to look to Gordex.
Illera was held before him, his hands wrapped firmly around her throat. Her eyes were clamped shut as she was tilted towards the flames of the fire, which seemed to reach up for her. The smell of burnt hair instantly filled the still air. Illera cringed as much as she could whilst imprisoned in Gordex’s hold.
“I’ll stop. I’ll STOP! Don’t hurt her,” Emaline shouted, veins in her neck bulging. Marthil wasted no time in digging the knife into Emaline exposed arm whilst she was forced to watch Illera being held over the flames. I could see the tears in Emaline’s eyes, whereas Illera shed no tear and showed no sign of sadness. Her face was as hard as steel, her gaze unwavering as she watched Marthil slice into Emaline’s skin.
Golden blood dribbled from the cut straight into the same bowl in which my blood was cooling within. Thick, it caught the light from the fire which gave it a multitoned effect. Morbid beauty.
Marthil had to go in again with her knife as Emaline’s wound knitted itself together quickly.
Only when Marthil stood, satisfied with her collection did Gordex throw Illera down. She tumbled, rolling across the fire for a moment and landing in a heap. One flick of Marthil’s hand and the sand raised to trap Illera in bindings.
“Our blood,” I said, trying to stall. “It’s important to you? That is why you needed us alive.”
“Oh, very. Without it, I would not succeed in raising my kin again.” Gordex reveled in sharing these details. I knew it from the warped pride plastered across his face. He raised his hand and flexed three fingers. “First, I have your Heart Magick. A component to your soul, the key element to this ritual. The main ingredient you could say. But it is not enough, not for what I need to do.”
I didn’t need to press on for Gordex to spill his truth.
“Blood comes next, but it cannot be stale and old. It must be fresh and pure.”
“That is why you kept us alive, allowed us to leave you in Lilioira? Because you knew we would be safe. The shadowbeing could have killed Emaline, but that would have ruined your plan. Everything, from the placement of the wound. It was to keep her alive.”
“It was a must, I could not have anyone hurting you. Not until I decided the time was right.”
“Petal,” Hadrian mumbled, lifting his head from the sand. His skin was coated in a fresh sheen of sweat, causing grains of unwanted sand to caress his skin. I wanted nothing more than to rush to him, dust him off and hold him close. But we were held at opposite ends of the fire, both bound and weak.
“He wakes, finally. My son, it has been long since I have laid my eyes upon you. One could almost say I had got used to seeing you during my time in Olderim.”
“Sick BASTARD.” Hadrian lurched forward awkwardly but was caught by his own bindings.
“Is that such a way to greet your father?” Gordex laughed.
Even from a distance I could see the tightening of Hadrian’s jaw.
“Do not speak with such idiocy, you were never my father. Even during your guise as King, I knew something was wrong. Never had he been so weak, so frail. You could never be a King.”
Gordex scrunched his face and shrugged “And here I thought I played along quite perfectly. Never mind. Marthil, take his blood. I have waited long enough.”
There was only a slither of impatience shone through the almost perfect cracks in Gordex’s confidence.
“The ritual, how does it work?”
Hadrian squinted at me.
“Zacriah, you can watch and see. There is not a need to question when you have the best view when it all unfolds. Marthil, his blood.”
Marthil hurried over to Hadrian who tried to fight back, but she did not make the mistake she had with Emaline. She called forth her element once more and secured Hadrian down. Then she ran the knife across his arm until his blood joined ours. The droplets of ruby as they cascaded sounded grotesque. It grated on my mind, body and soul. Hadrian winced ever so slightly as his wound wept its gore. Unlike Emaline and me, his did not heal.
Forbian still dwindled amongst our blood, Emaline more so than me. But it was enough to speed up the healing process with such shallow slices.
The flames jumped as Hadrian was bled. But it was as much as he could muster. Even the air within my very body seemed the recoil when I reached out for its help.
“My magick,” I called to Gordex who reluctantly looked at me. “It does not listen.”
“You do not need it anymore,” Gordex dismissed.
“You’ve taken it from us!” I accused.
“Enough of your idiocy. Linked with your bindings is gold, enough to still your usage of magick.” That explained why I struggled to keep my eyes from closing from heavy tiredness. “I cannot risk having an outburst whilst I perform the ritual. Do you really think I would let you intercept again at such a late moment?”
“I have no doubt you have covered all possible issues we could’ve created for you,” I replied.
“That is enough, Marthil, I still want him conscious to watch. Bring me their blood.”
Marthil stood and left Hadrian in his exhausted heap, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. She’d not taken as much blood from Hadrian, but it still leaked from his wound out onto the sand.
“If you don’t help him, Hadrian will bleed out.”
“So be it,” Gordex mumbled as he raised the bowl to his nose and took a deep breath. His gaze was wide and hungry, unwavering from the mixture of gore inside of the obsidian he held. “I have his blood now, which brings me onto the next component, if not the most important.”
“Don’t you want him to watch?” I called out, panic clear from the crack in my voice and how I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Hadrian.
“Then I will hurry this up, for him that is. He was my son for a short time. I can spare kindness when he has shown none. That is the type of person I am, the way I will rule during the new world that will rise with my kin.”
His answer was not what I or Marthil expected. She cleared her throat.
“You seem to keep forgetting about me?” Marthil stood tall, shoulders pinned back with confidence.
“Ah,” he waved a finger and proceeded to take the knife from Marthil’s hand. “How could I forget how important of a part you shall play in my New World, Marthil dear. So important indeed. Yet I still need your blood offering, then we can begin.”
She nodded, extending her hand after rolling her sleeve up for him.
Gordex lifted the knife carefully and held it above her skin. It hovered there, waving slightly, then he held it still.
“But there is one last component that I will need, and Marthil, it would be ghastly if I did not start with you. Turn and face your fellow Dragori. Let them watch as you take the first step into greeting my new world. Just as I promised you.”
Gordex sang his command whilst twisting Marthil to face us. Her l
ips where turned up into a smile even the dark night could not hide. Her teeth peaked through her lips, her brows raised high with a mixture of pride.
Then another smile was formed.
Gordex extended the knife over her shoulder and pulled it across Marthil’s neck. A streak of black spread from her skin and gushed down her chest and into the bowl Gordex held ready. Marthil’s face flashed with confusion before she rocked back into Gordex’s arms and sagged to the ground. He made no effort to still her fall. Down she went, hitting the sandy bed, which shook violently with her final moment of life.
No one made a sound. Not as Gordex took his black-stained knife and rubbed it across his nightly cloak. Nor when Gordex lifted his leg and stepped over Marthil’s unblinking body and stood with the bowl of blood full to the rim.
“The final ingredient is body. What better way to raise my druid brothers and sisters than to gift them with the bodies of the beasts that destroyed them years ago. Like poetry, isn’t it? My ancestors gave your kind life then your Goddess took you away from your rightful owners. But like the never ending circle, fate always ends back at the same place in which it started. With you.”
“YOU KILLED HER,” I said, watching Marthil’s dark blood as it leaked into the sand and stained her skin. Before all of our very eyes, we watched Marthil’s life spill into the bowl and onto the sand. Just like that, she was gone.
Gordex’s greatest weapon, dead.
“She looked up to you,” I mumbled, unable to locate the right words. “How could you do such a thing? Why?”
Marthil’s eyes peered at me, unwavering. Her head bent on the sand as it was positioned to look directly at me.
Her stare still left alive, no matter how her skin paled and her lips turned blue.
“Sacrifice is important, Zacriah, you should understand that by now. You will all have to join her soon, but for now, you can watch and see what happens to Marthil here. Then, it shall be your turn.”
Gordex flashed a final smile and raised a hand before him. The air around his open hand rippled. The darkness seemed to vibrate and split, opening a slither for him to enter. For a moment, his hand disappeared up to his wrist, then when he pulled it back he held the Staff of Light within his grasp.
“She told me of the promises you made to her.”
“And I shall keep those promises, in ways she will still be with me, you all will. But your souls will be lost, replaced by the souls of those trapped within this Staff.” He tapped it twice on the sandy bed. “And if you have not noticed by now, Marthil expected too much. She should not have been so… how do I say it… entitled. I will be glad not to listen to her all-knowing voice from now on.”
Gordex eyed the Staff hungrily. The light from the fire reflected off the sharp, obsidian stone, giving it a new depth than I remember it before. Its name was wrong, it was no Staff of Light. I knew what it contained. And soon, we would see.
I felt the tickling of legs across my chest, reminding me of our final chance.
Gordex looked around at us all, to Illera who had scrambled close to Emaline, to Hadrian who was hardly conscious from blood loss. Then back to me. “I suppose I should start.”
My mouth dried, and throat closed up. This was it.
Gordex raised the Staff of Light in one hand and the bowl of our blood in the other. He faced the flames of the fire and looked up to the clear skies, then he began to sing.
I didn’t know what to expect, but the moment the first notes left his mouth, the entire atmosphere shifted and changed. The air got thicker, the earth seemed to move. The flames grew higher with each beat of my heart. Even the sound of the ocean in the dark grew in volume with the crashing of waves and the moving of tides. Every element awoke as Gordex sang to the skies.
The notes and words were foreign to my ears, a mix of sounds of a language long forgotten.
As the song picked up in tempo, aided by the roaring elements, his runes glowed with nightly light.
Highlighting the many curves of the marks, shadows seeped from them, wrapping around his body in a cocoon of darkness. My ears stung as I listened on. The words were not words, the sounds not sounds. Everything was peculiar. If my hands were free I would have clapped them over my ears to block out his words. It made my skin crawl with discomfort.
The flames moved erratically, reaching out even against the strong wind which attempted to manipulate it. Then, so suddenly that if I blinked I was sure I could have missed it, the flames stopped. Like frozen tendrils of ice, the fire stilled into sharp points. From the heart of the flames the color changed. Morphing to a stark cobalt that matched Hadrian’s Heart Magick, then to bright whites that were hard to look at.
I shied away, squinting against the harsh light. Illera wrapped her hand around Emaline’s face to block the light, and Hadrian didn’t seem bothered. Regardless I wished I was next to him, holding him in what was looking to be our final moments.
Gordex ceased his song.
His gaze was pinned to Marthil’s body which was sprawled out beside the still flames. It was easier to see her in the new light. Bright white highlighted her ashen skin and blood-stained surroundings. The line on her neck was dark, clean cut. My stomach turned, even seeing her in such a state.
I wanted to shout for Gordex to stop, to plead and beg. But it would be wasted. He was shouting into the skies, calling forth his brothers and sisters to join him once more. As his screams filled the night, he pulled the dark crystal from the crown of the Staff and threw the rest into the flames. Holding the crystal up he shouted about imprisonment and freedom, then he threw it down to the ground and slammed his foot upon it.
It cracked like it was no more than glass.
Beneath his weight it sounded as if he had stood on an egg.
The noise was quiet, but with all the elements now still, it was easy to hear. Gordex’s chest heaved, and he smiled. Raising his foot, a snake of dark smoke raised from the broken crystal slowly. His gaze followed it, eyes rimmed with tears. His face was a portrait of glee.
The darkness hummed and throbbed, lifting before him where it proceeded to hang in the air before his face. I couldn’t hear what he said next, but Gordex’s lips moved as he whispered secrets to the cloud. Then he raised his voice for us all to here.
“Witness them, see the bodies I gift you upon your return.”
The smoke seemed to turn our way, forming into a hulking shadow of a figure. Its shadowy arm raised and pointed to Marthil, then to me.
“Yes,” Gordex said in reply. “They belong to you now. Your hosts.”
There was something childish about Gordex’s tone. He even looked upon the shadow through his lashes, like a youngling looking up to a parent. Gordex began to snivel, his eyes completely black now. Not a spec of white left. His humanity fading before us.
A chorus of clicks and snaps sounded from the pit of the shadow. Whatever communication Gordex was having with the shadow made him smile and shake with nervous excitement. He took the bowl from his one hand and held it in both. “The final part.” He brought the lip of the bowl to his lips and tipped.
Now. Nyah’s awareness shouted into my mind, followed by the shuffle of her small legs across my chest and up to the collar of my uniform. Looking down I saw her small wings relax as she climbed out of her secret protection, and she flew towards Gordex. But not before her shadowy hand reached out of her shift and snatched the hidden dagger we had concealed before the battle began.
Time slowed. Part of me wanted to slam my eyes shut, to not watch, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Nyah as she got close enough to Gordex and shifted.
His eyes widened as Nyah burst into smoke, shifting back fully into her elven form mid-flight. Her ginger hair flew free as she held the dagger in both hands and brought it down towards Gordex. Her scream was infectious, but I couldn’t join her. I could hardly breathe as I observed Nyah close in on him.
Straight through her shadowy figure, which dissipated around her, Nyah thrust t
he dagger out towards Gordex. I couldn’t see what happened once she reached him. Nyah blocked most of Gordex out with her tall, strong build. The world seemed to stop as I watched their still embrace.
I could hear my own heart beating in my chest as the hope for her success took over all rational thoughts.
It was an intense paused moment of waiting. Then they both staggered. Gordex took rocky steps back, the bowl tipping in his hands and spilling part of its contents onto the ground, then Nyah too stumbled back. Her head was bowed, looking at something I couldn’t see. Then she turned around, allowing the bright light of the fire to unveil all secrets.
Buried in the center of her abdomen was the dark knife Gordex had used to cut Marthil’s throat. I couldn’t take my eyes of the blood-stained hilt. Nyah’s hands shook as she regarded the knife, looking up at me with confusion at what was going on. Her lips quivered as if she was trying to say something.
The screaming that filled my head hurt my ears until I realized it was not in my mind after all.
My throat ignited with pain as I screamed for Nyah.
She took a step towards me, hands extended, but tripped over her own clumsy feet. She fell down, cheek pressed painfully to the ground. I waited for her to move, to squirm, to cry out in pain.
But she didn’t.
My wrists shrieked as skin ripped beneath the stone constraints. I tried everything to break free.
“Silly girl,” Gordex cooed from the shadows, standing forward. His gaze was focused on his own wound. Nyah’s attempt to stab him had worked, she had reached. Besides the crease of discomfort on Gordex’s face as he plucked the dagger from his shoulder, he was still standing. “Such a waste.”
I snarled and spat, shouted and cried. All emotions causing a storm to burn through me. I felt the want of my magick to respond, but the presence of gold kept it at bay. It didn’t stop me from trying.
The shadow reformed, hovering above Nyah as it looked down on her.
“There is still enough for this to work,” Gordex said to no one, looking into the bowl that dripped with the mixture of blood.