by Mark B Frost
“Impressive,” it hissed with a grating voice that conjured thoughts of the grave. “You learned the nature of my form during our last brief encounter. You must be quite intuitive.”
He gave a slow nod. “Let’s just say I’m not easily fooled.”
The paladin charged forward and threw his first punch, beginning the battle in earnest. The lich raised a clawed hand, expecting to easily block the attack, but Cildar’s own hand was still laced with residual holy energy. He shattered through the claws, connected with the lich’s chest, and sent it flying backward. It stopped itself after only a few yards and quickly repaired the damage that had been done to it.
Once it was whole, it sent an arm flying toward its foe, stretching out and growing huge as it approached. Right before the arm came into contact with the man it exploded into a cylinder of fire. Kinguin pointed his Magi Staff and threw up a barrier around the city walls just in time to keep the flaming cyclone from smashing through, but it appeared Cildar was not quite so quick, as he was engulfed by the attack.
Then the Dragoon leaped clear of the flames and high into the air. A few ember trails drifted down from his body, but a shimmering grey magic shield had prevented harm. When he was about fifteen feet high he thrust out his hands and began raining Aura Blasts down at the lich. It dodged in sudden bursts of movement, and Myris commented from atop the wall that even his eyes could not keep up with it. Cildar let himself drop to the ground, and as soon the thud of his landing sounded, he dashed to the lich and delivered a fully charged Aura Blast.
As his hands lit up with the attack, the lich burst behind him. It laid one of its hands across the back of his helmet and—as the Aura Blast fired uselessly—dozens of small, red lightning bolts struck Cildar’s head from every direction. The paladin stumbled forward a few steps, then fell over face first.
The lich did not bother to gloat. Instead it turned to the city and pointed a claw. Kinguin’s barrier began to shudder under an unseen assault. The mage tried reinforcing it with more energy from his Staff, but he was clearly struggling. The lich began floating closer, and it seemed to everyone on the wall that death would soon be upon them. Kulara looked over his shoulder into the city, but Aveni was still nowhere to be seen. Then as he turned back, he saw the lich’s stomach explode.
The lich trembled with pain and looked down to see what had happened. The three magnificent prongs of the Trine Lance had torn straight through its torso, and streams of its dark life began to pour out. It shortly realized the Lance was still releasing waves of power and tearing it further apart, so it stretched away from the glowing spear and threw itself gracelessly forward.
“Nightspawn,” a voice taunted, “until you rip the heart from my chest and make certain I am dead, I recommend you not turn your back to me.”
The lich floated away from its arisen opponent and placed its hands over its rent stomach. Dark energy flowed out and patched the wound together. While this was happening, Cildar removed his cape, flung it aside, and strapped the Trine Lance across his back. He gingerly reached up and seized his smoldering helmet and face mask, and ripped them off with a painful yell. His blond hair was mostly undamaged, but his face and neck was badly burned and bleeding from countless slices.
He inspected the blackened remains of his once-beautiful helmet as the lich announced, “You’ll regret touching me, human.”
“No,” he retorted fearlessly. “You’ll regret destroying my helmet. It’ll take the best blacksmiths in Felthespar three weeks to rebuild this helmet from transmuted steel, and it’ll take me at least another week to wear it in and get the fit right.” He threw the scrapped metal to the ground and looked at the lich hard. “You took my face. Before this is over I will take yours.”
The dark creature used its extreme speed again, moving in front of Cildar and coming at him with its claws. He evaded the attack with relative ease, but whenever he tried to make a strike of his own the lich zipped away and attacked him from the side or behind. The paladin had adapted to this pace now, and each time the lich disappeared he would dash a step forward, spin around on his heel, and come back with another flurry of punches. Soon the nightspawn began throwing up waves of earth and fire, but Cildar was always a step faster than the spells, and began mixing impressive spinning kicks into his technique.
Kulara watched intently as the two contestants tried in vain to hit one another, then turned to Myris. “I can only barely keep up with their moves. What’s your take on the battle?”
“The lich is strange. It moves faster than even I have ever conceived possible, but only in short bursts over small distances. The speed at which it strikes and casts its spells is dreadfully unimpressive. I do not understand how it could be simultaneously so fast yet so slow.”
“Maybe it’s holding back, lulling Cildar into false security so when it decides to finish him, it can do so in the blink of an eye.”
“Perhaps. But if things are as they seem, the lich is not the one toying.”
The Dragoon finally connected a blow, a powerful kick to the lich’s face. It shrieked in anger and a rapid series of spells of every element came out of nowhere. Cildar threw up his thickest grey barrier and began dashing backward, flipping and evading the onslaught as best he could. He dodged one particularly nasty fire spell and gained a second of freedom, so he dropped to his knees and curled up into a tight ball on the ground with a whisper. The lich shrieked again and pointed at him, and the area exploded.
The smoke faded, and a charred and blackened lump was all that remained where Cildar had been standing. The lich started to turn back to the city, but then seemed to think better of it and hopped over to the lump.
It thrust a hand down, intending to tear out the Dragoon’s heart, but its claws merely tore through a large burnt boulder. “An afterimage?” it hissed. “When did he—” Before it could finish the thought, a loud roar came from the direction of the city, and the lich turned to see a sight to give a nightspawn nightmares.
Ether currents and wind alike wrapped around Cildar’s body, binding layer upon layer of power to him. He continued to scream as the muscles on his body bulged outward, and he seemed to even grow taller with his own might. “Mal-oste haruste!” he shouted. There was a brief blinding flash and the lich stumbled back a step in pain. The Scion of Emle stood proudly revealed, his body tousled by an unseen but intense wind. His hair drifted lightly on the breeze, bleached the purest white along with the traces of blue that had once been a part of his outfit.
It was at this time that Aveni ascended to the battlements at Kinguin’s behest. “My word,” he said quietly, “I sense tremendous power indeed coming from Lord Cildar. I was not aware that his spiritual energy had reached such a plateau.”
Kinguin nodded. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Lord Cardinal. It seems that our boy has this well in hand.”
Down below, the lich eyed its renewed opponent suspiciously. The paladin made no move, but seemed content to revel in his power. Seeing that this was so, the lich made its charge, moving at him on a serpentine path, bursting from point to point.
Cildar lowered his head and narrowed his eyes. He could see the Asterian plane laid out before him, and just before the lich made one of its super-speed jumps a small orb of light preceded its body along the path. “Now I see you,” he whispered softly to himself, but still made no move.
The lich was finally on top of him, coming down at his face with a claw sweep. His hand shot up and seized the shadowy wrist, stopping the blow. The nightspawn tilted its head, unpleasantly surprised that the man had the strength to hold it back, but then made its claws grow out and strike into his head. They were cut off by a violent barrier of holy energy, which traveled all the way up the creature’s arm and into its chest, winding it and bringing it to its knees.
Cildar leaned forward and brought his head down close to the hooded face. “I wish to make you a promise before we continue. When next you see me draw my Lance, it means you are dead. Do n
ot forget.”
The fiery eyes grew smaller and smaller until they were two points of intense red light, and the nightspawn surged forward with a rush of power that sent Cildar flying back into Kinguin’s barrier. The field attacked indiscriminately, blowing him away and back onto the ground below. The lich did not waste this opportunity, but burst forward and began pounding on the paladin’s body, striking with a new powerful elemental spell each time it hit.
Cildar’s grey magic shields had been torn apart by Kinguin’s barrier, and this new wave of attacks from the lich was successful, draining his strength rapidly. He could not get an opening large enough to bring out an Aura Blast, so he was forced to resort to another Holy Wave, though he knew he could not afford the waste of spiritual energy.
The wave of light exploded from his body in every direction. The lich paused for a fraction of a second, wishing to continue its assault. It feared to get caught up in so much white magic, so instead it beat a hasty retreat. Cildar’s battered body begged him to take a break, but it was the first time in the battle that he had been on the losing end, and he was not about to let it show.
He was on top of the lich in less than a second and launched a new series of punches, moving dozens of times faster than he had previously. Still the creature appeared to jump away from every attack, its movement instantaneous. But Cildar could see the truth. In order to successfully dodge his attacks the leading orb of Asterian energy had to keep moving constantly. The faster he threw his punches, the less distance the nightspawn could jump. He played for about half a minute, monitoring the creature’s true speed, then he made his move.
He waited until the lich’s body was directly in front of him and the orb was directly on his right, then he gave an uppercut with his left fist. At the same time he thrust his right hand out and grabbed where he thought the lich’s neck would be. The shrouded figure appeared in his hand, as anticipated. The orb started to move back to the left, unsure exactly how to respond to this, and Cildar pointed his left palm directly at it and let loose an unrestrained Aura Blast.
The onlookers atop the wall watched in excitement as Cildar finally seemed to move faster than the lich, and then in confusion as he blasted an Aura Blast in a seemingly random direction. The nightspawn, however, began thrashing about and screaming horribly. Cildar released its neck and backed away, and everyone watched amazed as the cloaked demon fell limply to the ground.
“That’s enough,” the man ordered. “I’m tired of fighting your ghost. I told you I wasn’t easily fooled. Appear, monster! Face the Lord of the Phoenix.”
The clawed hands reached up into the cowl and the air above the lich began to shimmer. The creature of robes and shadows disappeared, and a creature far more terrifying revealed itself. It was twelve feet tall, a huge skeletal beast with rough patches of dirt, rock, and charred or rotting flesh draped across its body. The head seemed to be the skull of some former horned beast of the field, but it was far too large for any animal Cildar had ever seen.
The entire Asterian plane bent to the will of the true lich, and the Dragoon found himself hard-pressed to hold his Hasted condition together. It let out a new scream, a completely unworldly sound, and everyone on the battlements fell to their knees in pain. The Son of Emle was not phased, however, and offered a bold grin.
“Now you look like an opponent worthy of a paladin.”
He jumped to attack the creature’s chest, but it moved backward at the same ferocious speed as before and smacked Cildar back onto the ground with its skeletal palm. It launched forward intending to finish him where he lay with a single punch, demanding, “Die for your arrogance!” with a new voice that rumbled across the plains and made the surrounding Cainite army quake.
The monstrous fist struck empty ground as Cildar leaped straight over the arm and struck a mighty roundhouse kick to the lich’s jaw. The blow sent it flying away, and it landed awkwardly on its back.
“Every time you hit me you suddenly think you’re going to win. What does it take to convince you that I am a match for you?”
The lich slowly clambered to its feet. Clearly it was not accustomed to working with its physical form. Cildar rubbed his aching head and thought, It’s powerful beyond all reason, but clumsy. Maybe I can use that somehow.
The nightspawn stabilized itself and glared with empty eye sockets. “I should have noticed it before. Part of you has transferred to Asteria. That is how you’re able to follow me. That’s how you’re able to fight as if you were one of us.”
Cildar’s brow creased. “One of you?”
“Don’t you know? Liches are reborn mystics. We sacrifice our powers in Morolia to gain utmost power in Asteria, to become as powerful as gods or devils, take your pick.”
“If you’re so damn powerful, how did you allow the Cainites to enslave you?”
The lich roared in anger and feigned a claw swipe at Cildar. “Enslave me? They pray every night that I do not decide to devour their souls. We are merely in an agreement that I choose to keep for the time being, to humor myself.”
“They offer you the souls of their dead, and in return you do their dirty work? Sounds to me like you’re a little desperate. What’s the matter? Couldn’t catch any souls on your own?”
“Such shortsightedness. No, the souls of their dead are mere snacks offered to keep me appeased. My contract is for the souls of your priests.”
This time it was Cildar who snapped in anger. “What?!”
“The area of your country known as the Church is protected by far too much holy energy for a lich to invade successfully. So the Cainites have agreed that when the war is over, they will drag out all of the priests and Templars who survive the invasion. I will feast upon their souls, so rich with the powers of Morolia that my body craves.”
Cildar narrowed his eyes in rage. “I have no insults suited to convey how despicable you are.”
“A shame, holy knight, because that was your last chance to taunt me. In the time that you’ve sat here bantering, I have prepared my most powerful spell.”
The creature threw its arms wide and brought them back together, then pointed at Cildar with two fingers. The paladin stood frozen for a few seconds, and when he regained ability to move he was floating above the ground. Dark ether flowed from the lich’s outstretched arms and poured into the man’s armored chest, and he felt something taint his spirit. As the lich began to separate Cildar’s Asterian and Morolian parts, his Haste fell apart. He quivered with pain and his limbs started jerking about beyond his control.
“No,” he stammered, “Unholy Dark...”
Up on the battlements, Aveni dashed forward a step, then backed away and shook his head sadly.
“Aveni,” Kinguin demanded, “do something now! Break the spell!”
“I fear I cannot. Cildar and the lich are now joined as one. If I kill one, I kill the other. As a sworn healer of the Church, I cannot endanger a human life.”
“Damn!” Kulara shouted. “What are we going to do?”
“If Cildar indeed dies,” Aveni responded, “I can then banish the lich. But there is no way to save Cildar that I know, unless he finds the strength within himself to reverse the attack.”
Kinguin shook his head. “Unholy Dark isn’t the same as Holy Light. No one knows if it can be reversed or prevented in the same manner.”
On the battlefield below, these same thoughts had already passed through Cildar’s mind, and he had already chosen his course of action. More of the lich’s spirit kept pouring into him, desperately desiring to take over this new body. The paladin waited until his spirit was nearly at the breaking point. Then he shut his eyes and focused on just controlling his right arm. He reached back and grabbed his Trine Lance. He twisted it about, laid the tip of the bladed spearhead against his rib cage between the plates of his ancestral mail, and stabbed himself with a cry.
Energy from his sacred weapon poured into his body—not for the first time—and he gradually felt the painful and intrusi
ve sensations from Unholy Dark begin to subside. His body shone brighter each second, and thick clouds of smoke began to rise from the lich. It tried to withdraw the spell quickly, but it was no easy task. By the time it had finally disentangled itself enough to sever the link, it had lost more than half of its power to the Trine Lance’s ravages.
They both fell to their knees. Cildar left the tip of the Lance in his side for a few more seconds, restoring some of his vital energy. Then, wishing to strike before the lich had likewise recovered, he dislodged the weapon and dashed across the battlefield. He tried to ram the lich clean through, but it reached out with its tremendously long arm and grabbed his elbow, picking him up and giving a banshee’s shriek. The paladin’s body started to melt from the attack, but he bravely raised his left hand into the lich’s screaming maw and released an Aura Blast. The skeletal head collapsed entirely and the nightspawn stumbled back shuddering. Cildar landed on the ground, moved in close, and stabbed the Trine Lance up into the giant’s hollow chest.
A shadowy face hovered where the destroyed skull had once been and taunted, “What makes you think you can kill me?”
He tightened his grip on his Lance, swallowed hard, and replied, “I don’t think I can kill you. Like the paladins who have come before me, I believe.” The three prongs of the Lance began to hum, and slowly a bright green aura spread over Cildar’s body. The lich reached down and buried all of its claws into the man’s chest and shoulders. “That’s right,” he said in response, “hold tight. This may be our last chance for a warm embrace.”
A tornado of power started surging around the paladin, and the lich struggled in vain to back away from his death-grip. Above, Aveni muttered softly, “Holy.”
The Lord Archmagus at his side turned to him. “What’s happening?”