by E J Gilmour
Chiara looked across at Eben and nodded. The howls of the muckron horde filled their ears. A moment later they crashed into the enemy front line. Eben hewed down at a howling muckron as his warhorse knocked over another. The monstrous pig faced monsters surrounded them. The battle raged ahead as the knights pressed forward toward the rise.
Chiara and Acartor were cutting down muckron after muckron. Eben stabbed out as he charged after them with Red, Stella, and Meara by his side. Cassiel had fallen back with Arlen. To the right Sir Cian and Sir Tierran were cutting their way through groups of shrieking muckrons.
‘Follow me!’ cried Chiara, breaking away from the cavalry. She rode onward and carved a path forward. Acartor was battling numerous foes not far behind. Eben brought his horse up beside Chiara and cut down at the muckrons again and again; muckron after muckron fell under his sword. The smell of smoke, the howls of muckrons, and the cries of men filled the air.
Meara raised her hands, and a great blast of fizzing blue fire shot forth, tearing a path through the muckron horde. Sir Cian and Sir Tierran were in the thick of the battle, whilst Red and Stella were a little further back. Eben couldn’t see Cassiel or Arlen anywhere.
‘Keep moving!’ cried Acartor from a little further ahead as he moved up the beginning of the rise.
Eben’s heart was thumping heavily. He moved his horse up the slope. A moment later a wyvern with bright green scales swooped down, aiming itself directly for Eben. Eben turned his warhorse and held his sword ready, but before the beast reached him Sir Cian leapt from his horse at the wyvern. The Tabarian sliced one of the wyvern’s wings off. The beast screeched and crashed to the ground, smashing through a group of muckrons. Sir Cian instantly leapt after the fallen wyvern. He rammed his sword into the beast’s head, and a moment later the wyvern fell lifeless to the ground. Meanwhile another muckron slew Sir Cian’s horse. Eben cut down the same muckron an instant later. He turned back to Sir Cian who had engaged a group of the pig headed monsters on the opposite side.
Meanwhile Chiara and Acartor, a little further up the hill, were cutting out a path through the hideous monsters. Eben charged forward and suddenly a green blast of energetic light struck his warhorse, sending him tumbling to the ground. He quickly regained his feet, but, Arrow, his warhorse, lay dead on the battlefield. An instant later Sir Cian was by his side.
‘Watch out! There’s a Northern Sorcerer!’ cried Sir Cian as he fought his way forward with Eben toward Acartor and Meara. Eben looked ahead and could see a man in a black cloak with sunken eyes and greasy hair. The Northern Sorcerer raised his hand, and a green streak of light powered toward Chiara. Meara created a blue energy shield and stopped the attack; a mighty boom echoed out across the battlefield. Meara retaliated with three spirals of blue hissing energy that struck the Northern Sorcerer down.
‘Where is Sir Tierran?’ asked Eben.
‘He’s dead,’ said Sir Cian curtly.
Eben felt deeply shocked, but he had no time to reflect on what he had just been told. He looked back down the slope to see Red and Stella struggling against a large group of muckrons about fifty yards away. They had both fallen from their horses and had been unable to keep up with the advance toward the top of the headland. They were clearly being overwhelmed. A muckron was smashing Stella’s shield with a massive battle axe as Red was wrestling with another hideous monster. Eben was about to turn back to help them, but Acartor grabbed his arm.
‘No, Eben. We must move onward!’
‘I can’t leave my friends to die,’ cried Eben.
‘You have to!’ shouted Acartor desperately.
‘Eben, I will protect them,’ said Meara, realising Eben’s predicament. ‘I’ll see you when this is all over.’
Eben nodded. Meara then dashed down the slope toward Red and Stella. Acartor and Eben turned and charged up the hill with Sir Cian and Chiara just behind. The throng of muckrons scattered before them, their snouts howling and hissing as the Fiorians forced a way forward. Both Acartor and Chiara were amazing. Their skill and agility was second to none. They cut down the enemies to the left and right, creating a path through the hideous monsters.
‘We’re almost there,’ cried Acartor.
For a moment Eben caught a glimpse of the battlefield below; the whole field was completely alight. Thousands of men and muckrons were fighting to the death. Flames shot across the field from the multitude of wizards involved in the battle. Eben could see the second army of muckrons that had been protecting the shoreline were circling around behind the army of men.
As he was distracted a huge muckron struck him on the back with a war hammer. Eben stumbled and lifted his sword to parry a second incoming strike. His ribs ached from the impact. The drooling yellow tusked monster struck out again. Eben ducked aside, simultaneously swinging his sword down; the muckron fell at his feet. He dashed forward to join Chiara and Acartor, but Sir Cian was nowhere to be seen.
Eben quickly scanned the battlefield. He caught sight of Sir Cian’s lifeless body a little way back, a muckron spear protruding from his side. There was no time to stop as three muckrons assailed him an instant later. He cut them down as he dashed to the top of the headland where Chiara and Acartor were fighting through the last lines of monsters. A moment later they forced their way through and dashed forward.
Eben looked ahead. About forty yards across a flat rock surface was a man who was sitting on a chair made of twisted metal. He was middle aged with greying hair and deep blue eyes. He wore fine black clothing. His human face carried an expression of indifference. Placed across his knees was a sword that appeared to be a perfect replica of the Sword of Light.
To his left stood a man in a long black cloak who looked like a Northern Sorcerer. His eyes were deeply sunken and his thin hair was dry and grey. To the man’s right stood a huge muckron who was holding a massive bronze mace. The beastly muckron was wearing intricately designed golden armour. Ten Skatheans stood behind them, and two large black lindworms waited, completely still, on a rock outcrop behind the Skatheans. Directly behind the lindworms was a sheer cliff that descended hundreds of feet to the crashing waves below.
‘Well done,’ said the man in black, clapping as they approached. ‘I must compliment you on your achievement. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to make it this far. I have to admit that you are truly remarkable warriors.’
Chiara and Acartor walked ahead of Eben.
‘Your evil reign is at an end,’ said Chiara boldly.
The Astarian looked at Chiara and shook his head and slyly grinned. ‘Is this the Gatekeeper of Emeril herself?’ asked the Astarian. ‘I expected you to have better manners.’ He paused and then looked to Acartor. ‘Acartor; I must say you have done splendidly. You have achieved what few of us thought you ever could. Now, if you could please finish your task.’
Acartor suddenly turned and stabbed Chiara through the chest, his blade penetrated out through her back. Eben’s heart nearly stopped. Chiara’s stared at the traitor, her eyes filled with shock and grief. She dropped her sword and fell to her knees as Acartor withdrew his sword and stepped away from her.
‘No!’ cried Eben, leaping forward to intervene. Acartor turned his bloody sword and pointed the blade at Eben. Eben stabbed out at the traitor, but Acartor was quick to deflect and counterattacked with a torrent of blows. Eben focused and turned each strike away, but found he was being pushed back across the rocky ground. He felt his body straining as he only just managed to parry each incoming attack.
Eben felt grief and anger surging through his body. He struck back with an array of furious cuts and stabs. Using all his skill he managed to push Acartor back. Acartor struggled to defend himself. Eben forced him into the centre of the headland. He swung and stabbed again and again. Acartor lost his footing and fell. Eben went to strike, but an instant later Eben was knocked off his feet by a blast of green energetic light.
‘Well done, Baramak,’ said the Astarian. Acartor grabbed his sword and leapt up, re
ady to finish Eben off. ‘No, Acartor. Step back! I want to have a word with the Ecorian.’ Acartor bowed and moved away from Eben to stand with the Skatheans.
Eben looked across at Chiara. She lay beside him on the rocky ground in a pool of blood.
‘Eben,’ she whispered, her voice weak and near death. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have known; please forgive me.’
‘Chiara, I’m going to get you out of here,’ said Eben, feeling raw emotion flow through his veins. He slowly got up off the ground and moved closer to Chiara.
‘Eben, it’s too late for me…Fiora’s Bridge, it is…it…’ with this Chiara’s spirit left. She lay still and lifeless.
Eben’s eyes fill with tears as he turned to face his enemy. He lifted the Sword of Light.
‘This could not be helped,’ said the Astarian. ‘The leader of the Fiorians had to die. You, Ecorian, will be offered something greater than this unfortunate fate.’
‘I want nothing you can offer me, Prince of Shadows.’
The Astarian clapped gleefully, delighted with Eben’s words. ‘Ecorian, do you really think the Lord of Veredor would come here with only forty thousand muckrons and a few dozen wyverns? I am sorry to disappoint you; I am not the Prince of Shadows who you refer to, yet I am an Astarian, my name is Callidus. I serve the Lord of Veredor, and I have been instructed by him to offer you a great place in this world if you bow down and accept the rule of your rightful master.’
‘I want nothing he can give,’ said Eben angrily.
‘Well, obviously the alternative is certain death. Of course men never stood a chance. If you look down at the battlefield below you will see that this pathetic army of men is already preparing to retreat. What they don’t realise is that they will have no home to return to. A hundred thousand muckrons entered Vastoria yesterday from the Iron Gate Pass. They are marching toward Faircastle as we speak, and they will burn the city to the ground. The Sapphire Throne will be ground into dust.’
Eben felt his fear growing. He thought about Princess Apherah unprotected in Faircastle.
‘I see; there is someone who you care for in Faircastle,’ said Callidus with a sly grin.
‘He hopes to marry Princess Apherah,’ said Acartor coldly.
Callidus nodded and grinned again at hearing this news. ‘How sweet young love is. Perhaps you can save her by swearing allegiance to the Lord of Veredor. We could use you to end this ridiculous war. Men and mer would follow you. You could teach them to bow down before the Lord of Veredor.’
‘Princess Apherah will not be a slave and neither will I,’ cried Eben. ‘I challenge you, Astarian, to a duel to the death!’ Callidus shook his head contemptuously at hearing Eben’s reply.
‘Foolish indeed, I expected more from you, Ecorian. Unfortunately I have promised Tuskhead the pleasure of killing you if you refused to serve the Lord of Veredor.’
Callidus looked up at the massive muckron standing by his side. Tuskhead was a huge muckron, being at least eight feet tall.
‘Tuskhead is one of the five kings of the muckron race,’ said Callidus. ‘He carries the Muckmace, a weapon akin to the Astarian swords. If you want to duel me you will have to duel him first; nevertheless, I doubt your ability to survive after witnessing your pitiful attempt to overcome Acartor. You really are such a disappointment, Ecorian. Tuskhead, kill him.’
Tuskhead stepped forward and snorted loudly as drool flowed from his gaping mouth. He raised the massive mace, which was surrounded by an orange glow. Tuskhead’s red bloodshot eyes glared directly at Eben. The monster then threw his head back and let out a horrific howl. Eben raised the Sword of Light and focused his full attention on his opponent. The beast then approached, swinging the Muckmace in a circular fashion.
Tuskhead then suddenly bounded forward; the Muckmace descended from above. Eben leapt aside as the mace smashed into the ground, causing the rocky surface to quake and orange sparks to fly in all directions. Eben retaliated quickly and stabbed out, but Tuskhead just as quickly raised the Muckmace to deflect the stab. Again Tuskhead swung his great weapon; Eben attempted to parry, but the sheer size of the Muckmace crashed through his defence. He felt the heavy impact thump into his shoulder. Eben fell and almost lost his grip on his sword. Tuskhead stood above him, gloating with a throaty laugh.
‘Superbly executed, Tuskhead,’ said Callidus gleefully. The Astarian clapped loudly and was enjoying the show.
Eben struggled to his feet. He remembered back to Chiara telling him not to reveal his intention. He lifted the Sword of Light and pointed the blade directly at the monster.
‘Come on,’ cried Eben as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Tuskhead snorted through his hairy snout and raised the Muckmace again. The foul monster charged forward. Eben waited, completely still until the last possible moment, and then sidestepped whilst simultaneously cutting out. He felt the blade connect with the flesh of the muckron. Tuskhead roared in pain and stumbled backward, his shoulder bleeding from a large wound.
Eben felt his confidence increasing. He dashed after Tuskhead and unleashed a burst of stabs and slashes. Tuskhead parried as he was forced back toward where Callidus was seated. Eben then faked a move to the left, forcing his much larger opponent to adjust to face him; he then went to the right and stabbed out, pressing the blade into the hideous monster. Tuskhead wailed and dropped the Muckmace. Eben withdrew the Sword of Light as Tuskhead fell to the ground at his feet.
Callidus looked down at the dead muckron, puzzled by what he had witnessed. The Astarian shook his head in disbelief. Eben then turned to face his remaining enemies.
‘Now, Callidus, I will deal with you,’ said Eben firmly.
Callidus stood up and drew his sword. ‘This is the Sword of Midlight. I believe this sword was once carried by both your father and mother.’ A confident grin crossed the Astarian’s face. ‘Of course this sword truly belongs to the Astarians, as does the Sword of Light. I intend to take the Sword of Light from you as I took the Sword of Midlight from your mother’s hands.’ The Astarian stepped forward and lifted his blade.
Eben charged at the Astarian and thrust the Sword of Light forward. Callidus easily deflected the attack and dashed to the side with incredible speed. He then struck back, forcing Eben to stumble. Almost instantly a flurry of attacks followed. Eben found himself retreating and simply not being able to find an opportunity to counterattack. He desperately tried to parry each blow and was straining to his limits. Callidus then cut a deliberate shallow blow across Eben’s upper chest and stepped back.
Eben felt exhausted. He could feel blood streaming out of the gash across his chest. He raised his eyes to Callidus and lifted his sword, but Callidus stepped back away from him.
‘Do you see now, Ecorian? You have completely failed. Or do you still refuse to acknowledge the truth?’ Callidus shook his head scornfully. ‘All of Fiora’s plans failed long ago. Most of the Astarians were too unwise to see the truth. The old plan was foolish from the beginning. Men are much too fickle. Betrayal is the way of men.’
‘I won’t betray anyone,’ said Eben, his voice low and hoarse.
‘You’re a man; betrayal is simply in your nature,’ said Callidus contemptuously, turning away in disgust. ‘Look how little it took for us to convince Acartor to betray his friends, his people, and his entire race. He so easily chose his own life over the thousands who have died here today. He brought you and all those men on the battlefield here because we asked him to. He brought you all to your deaths. This is the way of men: you deliberately cut each other down only to gain a pittance for yourself. How can your race survive with such weakness? Men are so insecure, so fearful, and so reckless. Often betrayal is the only way they can feel that they have any power at all. Men have stained the purity of Veredor long enough. We are doing a good service eradicating your race from our world.’
Eben looked across at Acartor. The traitor stepped back and looked away shamefully.
‘Some of us stand by o
ur friends,’ said Eben.
‘You are no different from your father and mother. They both said almost exactly those same words. They paid the price for their foolishness.’
‘What happened to my parents?’ asked Eben shakily.
‘I will tell you when you give me the Sword of Light,’ said Callidus with a snickering laugh.
Eben, seizing the moment, launched himself at the Astarian and stabbed out with all his remaining focus and energy. Callidus raised the Sword of Midlight, easily deflecting the incoming attack. The Astarian then turned his sword and thrust the blade through Eben’s chest. Eben felt the pain and shock as he realised the sword had completely passed through his chest and out his back. In that moment he knew that he had lost. Callidus sneered and grabbed Eben by the throat with his free hand, squeezing tightly. Eben couldn’t breathe.
‘This is not your world!’ cried Callidus. He then withdrew his sword and pushed Eben to the ground. Eben felt his blood leaking from his body. He grasped the Sword of Light with his weakening hands. He tried to speak but found he lacked the energy to muster any words.
‘Now, as your last living act, give me the Sword of Light. The sword belongs to the Astarian race. I will use the Sword of Light when I lead the attack on Faircastle.’
Eben looked down at the sword he was still clutching. He knew in his heart he could never allow Callidus to take it. He summoned his last remaining strength and cast the sword over the cliff. He then lay down on the cold stone surface and was ready to die.
‘No!’ cried Callidus, dashing to the edge of the cliff. Callidus watched the Sword of Light disappear beneath the waves far below. He shook his head in disbelief. ‘You stupid fool!’
Eben felt the light fading from his eyes as he watched Callidus stride over and grab him by the scruff of his neck. The Astarian lifted him up off the ground. ‘Die, Ecorian!’ cried Callidus as he cast Eben from the cliff top.