by Mark B Frost
He brought his palms together in front of his face and spread his fingers wide. Flames rushed over his body as he released a loud roar. The smile on Cyprus’ face faded. He dashed forward and tried to strike, but the flames of the brawler’s enchantment blew him back with a gust of heated wind. Ice crept along the Cainite’s flesh, freezing the fire, then lightning struck him and filled his body. Cyprus stared forward nervously, waiting for the inevitable next move. Brakken disappeared, leaving nothing where he had been but a collapsing crater, and Cyprus’ world turned into one of pain and blood.
He could not dodge attacks he could not see, and he could not see a single move Brakken made. He raised his left arm at one point and constructed a huge ice shield, but a flurry of punches landed on him from behind and his shield exploded, followed by a flurry of punches to his front. Brakken beat him from every angle for about ten more seconds, then let him fall onto his face and landed a few yards away.
“What were you thinking? That you could actually keep up with me like this? Or did you hope I had simply forgotten about my ultimate technique?”
Impressively, Cyprus rose to his feet. He gave a worn smile and answered, “I just want to punch you once at your full power. All I want is to see if I can hurt you as you are now. If I can, then I can die satisfied.”
“That would be quite a feat,” Brakken responded, “and something to be proud of, no doubt. But you’re not fast enough to hit me in a million years. You know that right?” The Felthespari nodded in response. “Oh, but you just want to see if you can hurt me, if you’re strong enough? Alright then. Since this fight is essentially over already, I can afford to be sporting. I’ll stand still and give you your one shot. But be warned: when it doesn’t hurt me, I’m going to finish you off by tearing your head clean from your shoulders.”
Cyprus started flexing his left hand and stared at it briefly. Then he dashed forward, holding his fist in a ready position for a powerful jab. When he was a good two yards away from his opponent, he leaped straight into the air. He activated his left elemental gauntlet, forming a small ice block around his hand. As he came down from his jump, he threw his punch and lay his right hand on his left forearm. The small block turned into a huge ice spear, coming to a razor sharp point, and that point crashed hard into Brakken’s icy chest. Cyprus’ spear shattered at the impact, but he forced himself to finish the punch, bringing his fist also all the way through to the Cainite’s body and delivering a second blow almost as powerful as the first.
The ice spear had created the tiniest of chinks in Brakken’s magical armor. His power would have soon repaired the damage, but Cyprus’ second blow came too quickly and struck the exact same spot. The chink turned into a huge crack, spreading all the way through his body. Blood and flames both erupted from his chest and back. Cyprus backed away from this rush of power, and Brakken let out a slight gurgle from a new pain he had never quite experienced.
The flames died down shortly and the ice reattached, but the brawler was clearly unsteady on his feet. He looked up at his opponent and gave a surprised smile.
“You did it, Onion Knight. You caused me some small amount of pain. Well struck.”
“I broke you clean in half! You’re dead!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You broke my armor, cracked my frozen skin, but it’s no more serious than being sliced by a sword is for a normal man. I’m injured, yes. But I’ll survive. You, on the other hand, are about to be finished.”
He began advancing on his foe slowly, not willing to push his body using his frenzied speed. His opponent hopped forward and tried to throw another fierce punch to the same point on his chest, but Brakken held up his arm and caught the attack. As ice began creeping up the platinum gauntlet, the Cainite brawler laid a hand lightly on Cyprus’ chest. The enchanted fist unleashed its explosion of flames, and the Felthespari was thrown across the clearing, into the ranks of struggling soldiers.
Karice was there, and caught Cyprus and eased him out of harm’s immediate way. She let him lean on her for a moment, then took her Flamberge and placed it gently in his left hand.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a daze.
“You can beat him, Cyprus. The combined magics of your gauntlets is as powerful as his. You just need a tiny bit more and you’ll be able to overcome him. I’m giving you the extra you need.”
“But it’s your sword. I can’t take your sword, Kary.”
“Cyprus, this battle is about more than you killing Brakken. It’s about proving that the weak can still overcome the strong. He’s stronger than you, he’s better than you, everyone knows it. But if you win, if you beat him, it proves that no battle has a set outcome. It’s the kind of story that will become a legend and inspire soldiers and children for ages to come. You’re an Emle, right? Then go on, inspire us. That’s what Emles do.”
He looked up and met her eyes, then gave a smile. He shifted his weight to his own legs, held up Flamberge with a two-handed grip, and started advancing on Brakken. Karice, for her part, drew her father’s old sword from her back and launched herself back at the Cainites around her.
Brakken shook his head as the opponent approached once more. “I’ve fought and beaten that sword once today already, and without my enchanted blessings. What makes you think it will serve you any better?”
Cyprus halted his approach and leveled Flamberge out, pointing it straight at the Cainite’s chest. He said nothing, but activated the sword and his gauntlets all at once. Flamberge lit aflame, and these flames grew around it as his gauntlets fed in their elemental energies. The fire turned a strange twisting blue and continued to expand around the slim blade. Soon it had turned into a ferocious whirlwind of flames, and with a roar Cyprus sent the whirlwind tunneling for his enemy.
Brakken was more afraid of moving too fast for his injured body than he was the fire, so he simply crossed his arms in front of his face and braced for impact. But this attack was not something that even he could simply shrug off. As soon as the superheated inferno ripped into him, the ice on his body exploded in every direction. He rose into the air and was carried back by the hurricane of heat, his own fire and lightning mixing with the spell as his body tried in vain to reform its icy protection. Quickly, his wits always sharp, Brakken halted the lightning and fire aspects of his enhancement and focused solely on building his icy barrier around him. He cooled the flames immediately covering him enough to not be incinerated, but there was no way to freeze over hell. He twisted his body about and thrust out a fist, and by sheer luck he struck ground. He pulled on it as hard as he could, and his body tore free of the fiery spear and rolled away on the cool, cool ground.
Cyprus ceased his attack and collapsed, almost all of his spiritual energy drained in that single surge. As his grey magic fields shut down his body weakened and withered, pushed too far beyond even his unrivaled endurance. He looked to where Brakken lay in a smoldering crater filling with his own blood and melting water from his broken ice enchantment, and wondered just how much it took to kill the man.
The Lord of Saelen took a deep breath and leaned on Karice’s sword, gingerly lifting himself back to his feet. With the beating Brakken had given him earlier, and without any of his grey magic left to bolster his strength, he was finished. Even the act of standing took what felt to him like an eternity. By the time he was on his feet and looked back to the crater, the Cainite champion had also risen.
The brawler’s entire body was covered in burns, but only first and second degree. No permanent damage had been done. Already Brakken had ice crystals spreading across his burnt skin, siphoning off the heat, and there were ointments that could remove the scars. Cyprus slowly shook his head as he realized that even in his finest moment of glory, he had not done enough damage to leave a permanent mark on the man’s body.
“You win,” Brakken shouted across to him.
He panted for a few seconds longer, then shouted back, “What?”
“You win. Until I have recovered fro
m these burns, I cannot use my enchantment anymore. My own fire and lightning energies would only make my condition worse. It is all I can do to hold myself together from where you shattered my chest. I certainly could not sustain the effort to throw a decent punch. Injured as I am now, I cannot defeat you.”
In spite of his most optimistic hopes, Cyprus found this surrender difficult to accept. In his own current condition, he could do absolutely nothing. A child could have walked up and killed him with a knife, and the most he could have fought back would have been to try to fall on the kid. Using Flamberge as a crutch, he made his way across the battlefield to where he could talk with a normal speaking voice.
“Why are you doing this?”
Brakken smiled. “Because for a second there, Cyprus Galahe of the Military Council, I thought you had actually killed me. And I realized that, while I have been very happy living as an aimless fighter all these years, I do not wish to die as such. I’ve spent most of my days living in caves under a mountain. There’s a world out there, and I’d like to see a little of it.”
Cyprus squinted, still trying to catch his breath. “I thought you didn’t remember my name?”
“From this day forth, I will never forget it. I promise you that.”
“And so we agree that Brakken Chardoch the Cainite died here, in the glorious heat of battle?”
“If you wish. I will take that name no more, but find a new one befit a wanderer.”
Cyprus extended a hand. The renounced Cainite took it and they exchanged a gentle handshake.
“Go with peace.”
“Go with peace.” With those final words the brawler turned his back to Cyprus, and no man of Felthespar ever saw him again.
Cyprus, for his part, called out for Karice. The surrounding Cainites were still ignoring him in deference to the challenge between warlords, but it would not be long before some brave or forgetful soul would approach, and he would be unable to defend himself. Fortunately his fellow councilor had not wandered far, and shortly came running to his side.
He returned the Lord of Aithr’s sword to her, and she used its power to clear a path for him through to the nearest medic station. They immediately hooked him up for blood transfusions and white magic infusions to counter his grey magic overdose, and assured him he would not be returning to battle. He did not resist their prognosis, but rested out the remainder of the war with a serene smile on his bloodied face.
* * * * *
It was then that Myris Phare encountered Thian Phare. The two cousins eyed each other for a moment, each with their Cainite katana held in hand. Myris first opened negotiations.
“Would you fight me, Thian?”
The younger cousin took a step back and sheathed his sword. “No. I am not worthy of such honor.”
Myris likewise returned his katana to its sheath. “Do you believe that there is always honor in battle?”
“Only when the cause is just.”
“Then what makes a cause just?”
“Many things. It could be something so simple as fighting for the sake of honor itself. With that cause alone, there can by honor in combat.”
Myris stared at him for a few seconds, digesting the words of their verbal chess. “I have heard it said that you would give our people destiny, Thian Phare. Is there truth to this?”
“I would like to see it so, yes.”
“Do you believe this war is our destiny, as so many of your people do?”
Thian hesitated at this. Always before when he had told his honest opinions on matters, his brethren had chastised him for being naive. But he was speaking to Myris Phare, the man he had worshiped as a legend ever since he had been a small child. He would not lie to him. “War is not a destiny. It can only be a gateway to a destiny. But this war has no cause, no endgame. It is not a gateway to our destiny, and we should not be here fighting it when we have so many other hungers that need met.”
“The other members of the Circle of Command are slain. We just received the last report. I took Derris’ life myself. Our Lord Councilor took Karrin’s, to my grief. Cildar took Hartik’s head, and the General took Stratas’. Lathria Grielat, our Lord of the Black Hand, slew Tomir, while the Lords of Aithr and Saelen fighting together fell even Brakken Chardoch. Seven Cainite lords left the mountain of Cainis. You are the last who stands. Now you are the undisputed leader of the Cainite nation. Take them from this place and give them destiny.”
“Sir Myris! You are still a commander, and you outrank me. Come back to our people and lead us yourself. I could have no greater honor than to serve you.”
Myris gave his young cousin a friendly smile. “I will tell you in kindness what I once told Derris in hatred. I am no longer Myris Phare, the Cainite. I am Myris Phare, Son of Felthespar. This is my home now. I shall not forsake her.”
He turned his back and headed off, returning into the din of battle. Thian stood for a moment deliberating, dissecting the words for every ounce of wisdom he could find. Then he sounded the retreat.
The belabored Cainites graciously accepted the order, and quickly turned and began dashing to the south. Since Stratas had already shifted them out to the east side of the battlefield an avenue of escape was available, and they managed to slip past Felthespar’s southern forces and beat their retreat.
But the knights pursued them, and they did not go far before they encountered a terrifying obstacle. Kinguin Peet hovered in the air, shimmering with energy so intense it was almost liquid. The single row of mechanical monsters behind him stretched too far for the Cainites to move around. The only way was through, but no man was brave enough to dash forward and challenge the hellish mage and his soulless minions.
Then the pursuing Knighthood infantries hit the Cainites from behind and began to proceed with the slaughter. This lasted for less than a minute before Cildar, his Dragoons, and the entire cavalry immediately broke through and cut a line between the two armies. “Cease!” The Lord of the Phoenix ordered angrily, and began beating his own troops back with the butt of his Lance. Once the battle was completely stopped, he shouted aloud for all to hear, “The next man, be he friend or foe, who swings a sword or fires an arrow, I will cut down with my own blade and your death will be without honor! Do you understand?”
Everyone within earshot nodded, then Cildar commanded the Knighthood army to back away. Kulara rode over mounted on a peist behind Shasta. The General hopped down and proceeded over to the Cainites. Thian stepped forward to mediate.
“We are conquered. Name your terms, but we beg of you, do not slaughter our people.”
Kulara shook his head. “There will be no slaughter. We in Felthespar always learn from our mistakes. The first Cainite massacres drove you to fester under a mountain for three hundred years. That is a grave sin that we must bear on our consciences for many generations. Nor will there be any naming of terms. If we are the conquerors, then you will be the conquered, and someday you will seek to rise up and overcome us.”
Leprue made his way to the front of the ranks and joined Kulara’s side. “The General is correct. We have discussed the issue at length, and have decided that we must end these times of great wars. The only inevitable conclusion is that one side might someday wipe out the other. We take no joy in the prospect of becoming either the slain or the slaughterers.”
Thian eased a step forward, far enough away from the foremost Cainites that they could not hear his voice. “Then what is next?”
“We will draw up a treaty,” Leprue responded. “We clearly cannot allow you to conquer our country, nor could we trust you enough to live in it, or even near it. Not for a while, at any rate. But we already have some ideas, and with your help we would like to reach terms agreeable for both sides.”
Myris and the other leaders, including Kalema Dijar, stepped through the crowd of cavalry. Thian instantly locked eyes on his cousin, and the man gave him a smile and an encouraging nod. The new Lord Commander looked back over to Leprue and tears slid from his eyes.
“I always feared we were committing a grave mistake by attacking your people, but only now do I see what a grievous crime it truly was.”
The elder lord gave a soft smile and took Thian’s hand in his own. “We hope to put many crimes behind us. Accept the past, know that it happened, but tend always to the present, and look ever to the future.”
“My people will need time. Hatred runs deep and is not easily uprooted.”
“Time can be found. For now, the plains are yours. We will bring you supplies and send medics to tend your wounded. But make certain your people know that this war is over, else we will release Lord Kinguin upon them and they will not find the experience a pleasant one.”
Thian gave Leprue a final firm handshake and turned back to his weary soldiers. Cildar rode over to Kulara and announced, “I’m going to go tell Kinguin that it’s over. If I saw what I think I saw, he’s using the Crystal of Aeons to enhance himself. If he stays like that for too long, he might turn lich.”
Kulara nodded. “Certainly no one needs that. Get over there.”
The paladin spurred his peist forward with a “Hya!” and circumvented the Cainite army. Thian spread the word through his ranks and, upon receiving Cildar’s news, Kinguin dislodged the Crystal from himself and returned it to the Staff of the Magi, where it glowed with renewed strength. His Automatons lost their eerie glow, but they did not fall over. These lifeless guardians were more than enough to deter the Cainites from trying further retreat.
Chapter 46.
Strange but Strong Allies
“Come on now, wake up.”