Acbain: Sealer of the Crossblade
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let out a war cry.
Na 'Jahki drew his short sword and dagger. “Aye. We fight. To death!” Sarza brandished her bow, Freomordi, arrows already in hand. The sight of them preparing for death filled Acbain with both sorrow and courage.
Even the King drew his own sword from his side, Myxclamor, a thinner, condensed version of an entirely different Crossblade. He shot Acbain one last, fleeting look and said, “Fly.” Acbain nodded, heaved the Crossblade onto his shoulder and ran out the door.
He never saw them alive again.
6
Passing through the door, he could hear the others behind him engage in battle. The Shadows were pressing in. He had to move.
Outside, the scene could be described in one word: pandemonium.
Servants ran in every which direction (humans were never known for their brains in times of trouble) and even the magic races were frantic. Shadows could be seen moving with little hindrance throughout the courtyard, striking Remnant creatures and humans alike. Fire had broken out in various places, burning hay stacks and living quarters. Bodies lay strewn across the ground in every perceivable direction.
He jogged (couldn't sprint under the weight of the Crossblade) to the stalls. He reached the stalls. Passing rows of frightened horses, he found Vandomare, snorting and huffing at the disorder. He approached the stall as people ran around him with no acknowledgment of his presence. Vandomare reared and whinnied at his presence. “Hush, Vanodmare. We must go. If you understand me, I need you to be easy. Myza has allowed it. But we must go.” He spoke to her as he would a child. He hadn’t expected it to work, but Vandomare stilled. She stared at him for a second with those large round eyes - possibly reading his expressions, listening to the inflection of his voice - and finally snorted her approval with a consolatory nod. “Good girl.”
He snapped the gate latch open, pulled her out by the reins and hefted the Crossblade to the saddle, pushing it into the specially tailored scabbard, meant for Myxclamor. He strapped it in place, and jumped on with much difficulty. Vandomare was a tall horse, and Acbain was under five feet in height, which made for a challenge. Once he'd mounted the beast, he cracked the reins and tore off through the courtyard.
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NeverShadows leapt and pounced upon civilians, tearing them to shreds. Castle guards of varying races - Elves, Vorghoni, Keroque - made a valiant effort to combat the onyx creatures as they came, casting spells and wielding weapons infused with fire for this particular offense.
How long had Myza suspected an invasion? Acbain wondered. Then his mind turned back to the Artifact. Stop dawdling and go!
Acbain spurred Vandomare down the cobblestone courtyard while avoiding the conflict as best as possible. Vandomare's powerful legs plowed and pumped, charging past the grim and gruesome stacks of bodies. Shadows sprawled every direction, and Acbain had no intention of taking them head on.
At first, he had success in making his way undetected, using the ensuing chaos as a diversion. But his luck ran out in a matter of long seconds, and before he was fully aware of it, they came for him.
He caught one out of the corner of his eye. This one had come in the shape of a bear, and knocked down an unarmed human with one furious swipe. No sooner had this occurred, the creature immediately faced his direction, staring at him with the only feature Acbain could recognize:
Those crimson eyes.
The creature let out a loud, guttural roar. The sound carried off in every direction and what Acbain saw in response filled him with horror. Each Shadow ceased what it was doing, turned his direction, and began to charge - all within two second's time.
Acbain plunged forward, his heart in his throat.
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I'll never make it!
The bear-shaped Shadow started bounding for him on its paws, making terribly good time. Others followed suit, some shaped like warriors, others various creatures. The Shadows that had taken the shapes of the Remnant races snatched up the weapons and horses of the King's guard for their intended purpose, spurring them into following the spell-caster.
In all, there were dozens upon dozens.
“Hurry Vandomare,” Acbain cried. “For your life and for mine!” The horse, understanding either his words or his voice, galloped as fast as it could go.
9
Acbain came to the stone bridge that crossed out of the castle court and into the small village at the other end. He hadn't seen it from the castle (couldn't from the curtain wall that surrounded it) but the village was already aflame. The Shadows must have come from this direction, then attacked the castle. All for one Artifact.
Bodies were strewn across the stone tiles of the village proper, and blood had soaked the dirt and stone. Men, women, and children had been cut down with brutal indifference. Father take their souls and put them to rest. Acbain would have gotten sick at the sight, had he not seen the mass grave that marked the battle of Rand Do' Mage when Denteroth had arrived. He swallowed hard and pushed on.
Behind him, he could hear the Shadows clicking their tongues (or whatever they used to communicate), and hissing their disfavor towards him. Around him, the buildings sent billows of black smoke skyward, possibly to High Heaven.
Vandomare pushed on, bounding around the buildings and onto the village's entrance. Behind him, Acbain could hear the Shadows closing in. Every few yards they came that much closer, then closer still. Now they were only two horse lengths behind.
Soon they would catch him.
Acbain made a deft visual sweep of the scene around him. No survivors that he saw, not even animals. What could he do to slow them down?
His answer came in a second, when the event of the castle replayed in his head. The fire!
His hand went instinctively to his scroll. I could burn them to a crisp right now... No, he corrected. Better save it. However...
He looped his arm through the reins, and twisted around to face them. The creatures came at him like Shadowy Death itself. And he hadn't noticed, but they had picked up bows, arrows, and swords. He had to keep a distance between them.
The Shadow archers seemed to understand that something was coming and began to pass their melee weapon wielding brethren. One took the lead - this one a mimic of a Fair Elf - and donned the bow. It hissed its anger towards Acbain, strung an arrow and released it.
The arrow sailed through the air, and came right for Acbain. But Acbain had already finished his incantation, chanting those words of which we are now familiar: “Flames of this place, I Redirect thee! I command thee to come!” Though the result of this was much more dramatic this time.
Acbain pulled the flames of the buildings around him to the spot he passed through, creating a wall of flames behind him. The arrow did not make it through the flames. The buildings extinguished themselves as the flames joined to create a wall of flames so hot, Acbain could feel the heat radiating towards him, even as he pulled away from it.
He could hear the shrieking of burning Shadow beasts, the ones that had been in the lead, and the angry cries of those that had to detour.
“Thank you, Father,” he cried, clenching his fists in joy. “You have saved me!” He may not have stopped them for good, but every second he could gain was to his advantage.
He turned back, took the reins in both hands and departed the razed village, leaving Issandor, Myza's ruined kingdom, behind.