Kargaroth

by Mark B Frost

  Relm rubbed the back of her neck. Her exhaustion was beginning to catch up with her. “I guess Atheme is powerful. I forget about the warrior side of him. That’s what Abaddon is to me, I guess.”

  Karice looked at the sky. “I would love to stay and talk, Miss Sarin, but we’re under strict training regimens now, so I must get to my next group of students.”

  She reached forward and they shook hands warmly. “And I need to be getting back to the Arcanum for some late night scroll readings. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Knight. I hope we run into each other again sometime.”

  The Military Councilor gave a smiling nod, then turned and left. Relm headed back in the direction of Felthespar, taking the most direct route she could.

  As she walked she replayed Karice’s fight in her head, then her thoughts turned to Atheme. She wondered when he was going to finally give up fighting. He had always said it was not that important to him, that it was merely a necessity he would eventually outgrow. She had always accepted this, and waited patiently for happier days when she would no longer have to share him with the battlefield. But she remembered a look in his eyes, a look she had seen whenever he fought Abaddon—a look of thrill and enjoyment, simultaneously of excitement and contentment. She wondered now if perhaps, in truth, all warriors needed their battles. And as Karice had said, Atheme was the mightiest of warriors.

  She looked up from her musings to find she was standing at the edge of an open glade. She heard mumbling, and cautiously edged forward. She swiftly moved her fingers and cast a Hush spell over herself. Soon she saw Myris Phare kneeling in front of a bizarre mound in the earth, offering up prayer. Relm watched quietly and listened closely to his words.

  She was able to make out very little, as the man was mumbling more than speaking. Soon she picked out enough words to realize that he was speaking a different language. It had never before occurred to her that the Children of Cain might not speak the same native language as Felthespar.

  She was even more shocked to discover that she could understand the language. The few words that she was able to hear she translated without effort. As she thought on it, she realized she could speak in that language as well, if she chose.

  She let out a soft squeal as the realization sent a wave of terror and confusion through her. The sound was too sudden for her Hush spell to repress, and she looked up to see that Myris was gone. She felt someone grab her from behind, and the dark blade of the Soul Scythe was pressed against her throat within a second.

  She froze and did not move. She could see Myris’ fiery eyes out of the corner of her own, and could feel warm breath strike her cheek through his mask. “Relm?” he whispered quizzically.

  For a few seconds neither of them moved. Relm was terrified. She did not know Myris well, and was not aware if she had committed some grave offense against him. She stood shivering and felt a warmth building inside of her. She closed her eyes and embraced that warmth.

  It turned into a surge of heat and power that washed over her body, and she felt strong. Bizarre images came to her mind, but she could not understand most of them. Only one made sense—an image of her lashing out with energy and attacking the man who held her captive. She saw the Cainite’s body flung across the glade and smashed into a tree, with her standing over him with silver eyes glowing fiercely. She knew this image meant that she could save herself. All she had to do was let the energy pour out of her...

  Suddenly Myris let go and backed away. She fell to the ground exhausted and felt the energy slip away from her control. She tried desperately to reach for it, not certain why, but she knew she wanted it back. She could not hold onto it, and in a few seconds the power was lost. She continued her internal struggle for another frantic moment, but a few seconds more and she could no longer even recall the images she had seen.

  She heard a voice and slowly realized that Myris was speaking to her. “Forgive me. You startled me. I was immersed in my prayers, and my people have quick reflexes when startled.”

  She stood and tried to swallow, but her throat was swollen and her mouth dry. “It’s okay. I-I’m going to go home now.”

  The dark man watched her as she stumbled away. Relm had studied many peculiar or even supernatural events since she had become Atheme’s Herald, but she had never read of anything like what she had just experienced. In the back of her mind, a single thought burned.

  What am I?

  * * * * *

  After an hour of preparations, Atheme still knew nothing of the pet of Kalema Dijar. They had relocated to a large arena, where the audience was protected behind large steel bars. Atheme, Abaddon, and Kalema alone stood at floor level. The ground was covered in boulders and gravel, and was not nearly as inviting as the stadium in Felthespar. The king exchanged a few hand signals with the man called Jonath, then turned back to his visitors.

  “Alright, Onion Lord, here’s the deal. We have a challenge for either you or your friend.” This was the first mention made of Abaddon since they had entered the underground city. “If either of you can defeat your opponent then you’ll have proven you’re warriors worthy of our respect, and we’ll fight by your side free of charge.”

  Atheme looked to his companion, but the man offered no response. “I have no choice but to accept,” he replied.

  Kalema walked up a set of stairs to a throne sitting on a balcony. From here he shouted down, “Only one may take on the opponent. Make your choice quickly.”

  The Daemon moved his hand to his sword hilt. “I will handle this, milord.”

  “No,” he argued. “This is likely a test of character. If I leave it to you, they’re going to think I’m a weak leader who relies on the strength of others. I will fight this battle myself.”

  Abaddon turned and walked to the far end of the room. “As you will.”

  The Lord Councilor rested his hand on the hilt of his Morabet and waited for his opponent to be revealed. He did not have to wait long, as Kalema swiftly signaled to Jonath, and the giant wall Atheme was facing split in half and slid away.

  He was amazed to see this level of technology, and it occurred to him that this might be the debt which Kalema claimed to owe Calvin. Suddenly a huge form charged from the shadows, and only his sharpened instincts warned him in time to jump out of its way.

  He rolled and then landed nimbly on his feet. He felt a heat source to his back, so he quickly turned and released a powerful Icestorm matrix. “Tela kara shan-arr!” Dozens of shards of ice slammed forward into the wall of fire heading his way, but his spell did not match the blaze’s intensity. The ice was swept aside and he was blasted to the ground. He flipped onto his hands, then launched himself away and landed on the wall. He clung to the steel grating for moment and finally got a look at his opponent.

  He immediately recognized what he saw, and it was not a welcome sight. A behemoth, the most powerful of Morolian demonspawn, snorted and stamped its powerful front leg, smashing through rock and granite. It twisted its head and roared angrily in his direction, and he felt a shockwave wash over him.

  He narrowed his eyes. Behemoths were vicious creatures, assumed to be a form of mystical mutation from bears or oxen. Kinguin believed they had been bred by ancient mages as a weapon. They were nearly as strong as metallic dragons, and had tendencies to go on rampages that took out entire nations. In spite of himself, Atheme smiled. He knew he was in legitimate danger, but this was an opportunity to fight a creature more powerful than anything Abaddon had ever killed. He eagerly embraced the challenge, fully aware of his foolishness for doing so.

  He leaped from the wall at high speed, drawing and extending his sare to a comfortable five-foot fighting length. He spun the weapon behind him as he flew at the beast, preparing for a powerful thrust to its chest. The behemoth raised up on its hind legs and lunged its massive paws at him while he was still in midair. He was forced to thrust the sare at the ground, using it to spring over the horned head and land on the creature’s back. He drew his Morabet a
nd went to stab into the blue furred neck, when it disappeared from beneath him.

  He would never have imagined that something so large could move so fast. The behemoth rotated around Atheme while he floated in midair and smacked him with its paw. He landed hard on the ground and when he looked up the creature was above him, braced to crush him with its hind leg. He raised his sare and pointed it at the foot, releasing the single blade from the tip. The behemoth stepped down hard on the sare, then quickly jerked its foot back and retreated nursing its injured paw.

  Atheme shot to his feet and crouched into a defensive position, one arm slightly in the air and the other in front of him, his sare lying across his palms. He ejected the fanned blades from the back of the weapon and gathered his thoughts. Alright, he thought, I’ve injured its foot. That might slow it down a hair, but it won’t be enough. This thing is faster than me and has me overwhelmingly outmatched in brute strength.

  He twisted his neck and felt sharp pains. Being smashed into the ground had thrown his back out. He ran some white magic through his bones, then started layering on grey magic. He was not going to match this creature in speed or strength, so he was going to have to rely on spells.

  He dropped the sare behind his back and dashed toward his prey. The behemoth acted immediately, coming at Atheme with a low swipe. Seeing this, he smiled. The terribly predictable response made him glad that he was facing an animal. He leaped nimbly onto the hand and dashed up the arm, then tapped the matrix for a Shadowtouch spell. “Calinor felar iorus,” he chanted, and his left hand ignited with dark fire. If he could hit the behemoth’s head it would suffer brain trauma that would cripple it for the remainder of the battle.

  Then the behemoth decided to prove it was no mere animal. As soon as Atheme’s foot touched its shoulder, the creature’s tail whipped around the man’s neck and looped around his arm at the elbow. As he was lifted away, Atheme collapsed and sheathed his sare, pulling out the enchanted Morabet and hacking at the tail to no avail. The behemoth held him suspended in front of its face, then unleashed a powerful roar. The Lord Councilor’s eyes went wide as he felt the ether blown away from his body, and his Shadowtouch spell collapsed.

  The beast tossed him to the ground, took in a deep breath, then launched an energy projectile from its mouth. Atheme wrapped his arms around himself and gathered a potent grey magic barrier, but the attack shredded through effortlessly, throwing him back and sending his shirt and blood flying everywhere. His chain mail alone held, absorbing just enough of the blow to save his life.

  He lay on the ground for a moment recovering, while the behemoth seemed content to let him. “That was shadow magic,” he muttered to himself. “It knew what my spell was and countered with one of its own.” He ran white magic through the front of his body, rebuilding damaged tissue, then rose to his feet. He shifted his grey magic to strengthen his legs and grunted through his clenched teeth, “Alright, so maybe you’re smart. But you’re not smarter than Atheme Tethen.”

  He dashed around the room at high speed, occasionally stopping and touching the ground with his right hand and chanting. The behemoth tried to dash over and smack at him a few times, but he moved in complex evasive patterns. When he had finished, he dashed straight at the huge animal and threw his sare into its chest. It had no trouble seeing the attack coming and caught the sare with its teeth, but Atheme used that moment of blindness to dash underneath and behind it. He turned and, in a huge rush of breath, released every fire and lightning matrix he had, while at the same time sending out a signal that tapped the matrixes he had placed on the ground.

  A storm of destruction slammed into the behemoth’s back, as ice missiles and energy chains shot forth from the traps Atheme had placed. The creature was lifted into the air until the Knight of the Sun tapped the largest trap matrix in the room, catching the demonspawn in his Stormbreak.

  He stood gasping for air, his spirit nearing exhaustion as the behemoth’s body crashed to the ground burned, sliced, and smashed by his magic. He retrieved his sare from where the creature had dropped it and collapsed it to three feet, blades drawn. It was possible that his foe was not yet dead, so he moved across the room to finish the battle.

  When he was within a few feet, the beast’s eyes opened and its tail whipped forth and struck him directly in the forehead. It hopped up onto all fours and released another roar. Power began pouring into the spines along its back and into the horns on its head as its eyes glowed with a dark light.

  Atheme stumbled to his feet and fought the urge to black out. He saw the behemoth straighten its back and flex its body as flames started to leak from its mouth. He realized this spell was the same attack as before, but drastically more powerful. A grey magic barrier had held no effect before, so he instead surrounded himself in a dense Aura.

  As the beast released its attack Atheme jumped hard to one side. The ball of energy barreled across the room at lightning speed and caught him in its path. He had moved just enough to avoid a direct hit, and to his surprise his Aura dissolved the energy from the attack and protected him. He glided through the dark power and landed unharmed. As soon as he touched the ground he channeled the energy from his Aura into his hands and released an Aura Blast.

  The behemoth sidestepped rapidly to dodge the attack, but its shoulder was hit and tore away. It screamed in pain, then sprang across the room and smashed Atheme before he could react. He gathered another Aura Blast and released it in a wide beam, throwing the behemoth away with a roar of distress.

  He stood and looked around. For the first time since the battle had begun, he remembered where he was and what he was doing. He looked to Abaddon, who was not even watching the fight, then up to Kalema, who was applauding and cheering enthusiastically. He decided it was time to end the show.

  He focused his spirit, allowing a soothing white energy to flow out of his body and build around him. The behemoth started to rise unsteadily to its feet. Atheme continued to focus his white magic and felt his body and mind relax under its influence. The demonspawn shook off its haze and roared at him with murder in its eyes.

  He floated slowly into the air, and a soft white field spread outward from him. The behemoth tried blasting him down with one of its dark magic spells, but the blast was absorbed into the field ineffectually. More energy poured out of Atheme, spreading across the entire chamber. Abaddon looked up as the field approached him, then reached back and wrapped his purple cape up around his shoulders.

  Once Atheme was floating at the same level as the behemoth’s head, he opened his eyes and looked directly at it. The field collapsed down, tightening in around the two contestants. The behemoth struggled vigorously to escape, but it was held tight and soon unable to move.

  The Felthespari knight focused the spell into a single point inside of himself, then did the same within the behemoth. Once this was complete their spirits were merged, and only a thin and barely visible trail of light remained running between them. This was Holy Light, the Church’s most lethal technique. A spiritual master would have been able to cancel the spell, but the behemoth had already shown Atheme it had no defense for white magic.

  He stretched his body and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Holy Light, purge the wicked!” A small orb of energy ripped from the bestial chest and traveled through the trail of light into his body. As the behemoth went limp, Atheme glowed even brighter. Once the spirit was absorbed, an immense beam of energy shot from the man into the creature, and without a further sound the behemoth was disintegrated.

  Atheme drifted back to the ground. His body was healed and he felt stronger than ever before. The behemoth’s spirit had given him more strength than he would have imagined. He snapped to Abaddon, and the big man brought him over his satchel with his spare tunic. The Lord Councilor slipped it on—more than a little annoyed that his other outfit had been ruined—then headed to where Kalema stood, come down from his balcony.

  “Kalema Dijar, Lord of the Barki, King of Shadows, have I suff
iciently fulfilled your request for entertainment?”

  The man smiled. “Now, Onion Lord, no need to be so formal. My people and I will fight by your side. Barkus is at your disposal. I have already sent down orders for my warriors to begin preparations, so confident was I in your victory. You asked for two thousand warriors, but I am afraid that my entire clan has only sixty-five hundred members, women and children counted. We can’t spare two thousand fighters to leave home. Eighteen hundred is the best I can offer.”

  Atheme smiled and offered his hand. “That will do, my friend.”

  Kalema shook his outstretched hand but did not return his smile. “Indeed,” he whispered quizzically. “Friend.”

  He turned and walked away, motioning for Jonath to show them to some quarters. Atheme and Abaddon exchanged puzzled glances, then picked up their gear and followed their guide.

  Chapter 19.

  On the Revian Home Front

  Kalema Dijar smacked his war club lightly on the rail of the ship christened Calvin. Nearly two months ago the ship had been completed, and he had arrived in Jegan with nine hundred Barki in tow to find Atheme and Abaddon already waiting. Kalema had assured the two knights another nine hundred were navigating the treacherous mountains, then the Lord Councilor had contacted Setran Traval, who directed them to a large abandoned warehouse on the docks.

  They had reached a run-down building constructed of rickety wooden walls. There had been no signs of a ship or human activity, and Atheme had expressed some concern. He cautioned Abaddon to keep an eye out and they headed into the building. Kalema followed the two knights at a distance, motioning for his soldiers to remain outside until further notice. They stepped into the interior of the warehouse, which was a single gigantic room. This room was filled solely by hundreds of gallons of water and a ship more majestic than any they had imagined. Hundreds of sailors and carpenters scurried about doing last minute touch ups on the vessel, readying it to get underway.