“Nabuto will not abandon us Gilfony; the stones are meant to protect us and so will the Benaga and the Karayan… don’t lose faith and let’s try to fire our arrows together so only one of them can get snatched by the monster.” Jarl snarled in frustration but even he was starting to worry that he would be alive to see the mighty kingdom finally collapsing beneath the strength of the Orcreich after over a thousand years of dominance. It made his mind ponder over every mistake he made in his life, every unwise decision and how much he regretted what he had done to Damara. Now as he saw her running to take out Alagpo but slipping on the spores layering the ground like leaves in autumn, his heart trembled at the thought that his failure to hit the priest was bringing her closer to the Archdemon and with a snarl he aimed again. “I’ll shoot just a second before you, let’s see how that works?”
The pair stretched their arms, pulling the bowstring with an audible groan as they held the wooden shaft tightly and bit back the trembling within their bodies. They sucked in air deeply together and wheezed a slow sigh of unison before Jarl lifted his fingers. The moment Gilfony spotted the shift he released his hand too and together the arrows sparked just a fraction. The first arrow shot straight out toward the form of the cowl-covered figure that seemed to be practically melting onto the spores as it paused and grasped the stone though one hand looked to be decaying to the bone. The first arrow looked ready to strike until the slight motion of the Archdemon tilted it slightly to the left and it slammed into the ground with a pop inches away from Alagpo. But Gilfony’s second arrow was only slightly affected, it's course only just altered to take the position of Jarl’s and it slammed straight into the shoulder of the priest, exploding in a mound of black and blue flesh joined with a scream of rage.
“I hit him!” Gilfony gasped, but he and Jarl prepared their arrows again, noticing Alagpo was not yet dead and desperate to stick him so full of arrows he would never be a threat to them again. They shot again in the same manner, their arrows rolled slightly towards the left, but the priest had guessed the direction of his attackers. Though he lay on his knees grasping at the revealed bone and blackened tendons on the nearly muscle-less shoulder, his bloodied eyes pointed towards the glittering gem-like arrowheads aimed at him. With a sneer of agony and fury, Alagpo lifted the Sacred Stone up suddenly and the blue object swirled to turn a sickly yellow colour before zapping strange circulating rays about the priest’s form. They cut the arrows from the air, cut the ground in front of Damara and the Karayan so that the pair were knocked onto their backs with snarls of anger.
Alagpo then seemed to be shining a terrifying golden colouration as he straightened his body and then pulled the stone high above his head. The golden colours seemed to be pouring over him like water, making his body hiss as it seemed to purify his wounds and heal him up. He was trembling as he lifted it, his mouth motioning strange words that could hardly be recognised by Damara as she scuttled onto the cracked boulders. Alagpo was producing deep rumbling sounds like some deep vibrating gurgle from within his throat and at this sound the Archdemon strained its body across the great chasm to the wall of the citadel towards them. It could identify the form of the priest and there was a strange sound like an old wired trap snapping open, the demon’s head turning towards him with shining golden orbs where its hideous eyes had once been. The figures were in some strange kind of mental conversation with one another and then suddenly Alagpo flopped onto the ground and put the stone down before pulling out a demonic dagger, the kind Leridan had held, and suddenly slashed his wrist open.
“Oreb – coli – phalo – knoriz – cumai – jilha – pavuli – zuzori – kiralg – Ohrkaylay!” Alagpo seemed to drool as he spoke words that made Damara give a shriek of shock and surprise. These were words in the Elder Tongue and they were being spoken backwards to reverse the spell of the shield on the wall. Straightaway there was a flittering in the air, a strange static sparkle that made the figures on the ramparts howl and scream in terror at the thought of losing the protection so that the demon could use its powers to step onto the wall! Zehna was quickly adjusting spells up in the tower and Damara was scrabbling to try and get there faster and stop anymore blasphemy, but she was petrified. She was even more terrified as Alagpo’s bleeding wrist was suddenly used to draw a crescent and then a tear-drop shape upon the ground with the stone in the centre… signs of the demon realm and the evil ones! He was then mixing strange symbols into the mix and just as Damara clambered over the final giant boulder in her path in the courtyard to reach the wall, Alagpo hooked his hands around the symbols and lifted them up.
“KARAYAN! HURRY PLEASE HE’S OPENING A DOOR!” Damara hollered out to her friend, knowing that she would be useless with that kind of magic as she heard the great shrouded general leaping over the rocks, cracking them beneath whatever power his rage was starting to generate. Alagpo heard her call and swiftly he pushed the symbols up towards the wall stones, the great stone sitting calmly and glowing golden behind him as the Archdemon seemed to wait patiently to be permitted into Virenheim’s shielded region. As Alagpo managed to press the bloodied symbols to the wall, he suddenly turned golden again and slowly began to draw the circle of gold in the air. At his careful notions there was a strange vibration in the air before abruptly a bridge was formed of blood to the demon’s side as the doorway began to form around it. With this bridge the entire kingdom above and below began to rumble and shake with fury as the figures upon the wall screamed in terror. Jarl and Gilfony were knocked amongst rubble as the tower nearest the forming door collapsed completely onto the ramparts in a great explosion of mortar, stone and dust... the archdemon’s great boiling hand stretching out to grasp the gap formed in the wall there.
Alagpo let the spell on the door do its work, clicking around in a circle like a clockwork item as it cut its way through the stone and the magic shield to create a suitable doorway for the monster to enter. The priest then turned about, his body seemingly healed but his eyes still bloody pools that dribbled down his now golden form as he stretched his hands toward the stone sitting calmly upon the ground. He could hear nothing but the demon’s commands and yet there was still something within telling him to hold back… something telling him that this was not what he wanted for the world and that he should turn back around and remove the spell from the door. That part of him that was still the Deep Elf he had once been could not permit him to lose everything he had worked so hard to achieve and he stood there trembling in silence… remembering what he once was as the world around him seemed to freeze as his mind tried to punch through the power of the archdemon’s hold.
The old priest could hardly remember what it had been like to be pushed into the priesthood by his weak family with no name to themselves. He could hardly remember what those early days had included for him save beatings for bad behaviour and the constant need to keep his head to the books and never dare to think of looking at the sunlight. For the religious order it was strictly forbidden to be on the surface and yet even as he stood here for the first time his body was aware the sun was not present, so he had not forgotten that vow. Like all the priests that had served in the order for their first fifty years, he had been assigned a partner from the Sacred Women to produce an heir for his family and this had been a daughter. He had never known her, never known her mother save for the couplings and there had been no memory of affection or anything spectacular about that time. A servant to the gods he had continued up in the ranks of the church until he had earned the rank of a Moon Robe… a possible replacement for the next High Priest and at that point he had been able to meet his daughter and perform the sacred funeral prayers for his daughter’s dead husband and hope for the future of the child within her womb. As a Moon Robe, they had gained rank and position amongst lesser nobility and then Nabuto had selected him in the election process to be the new High Priest and suddenly he had been powerful, adored and it had been the first time he’d experienced love in his life…
…well, not
the first time – when his grandson Gilfony had been born he had been the head of the household and so the first male to see the child and to select his name from the list. Upon that first meeting with the child he had felt such an unusual kind of affection and pride to know that he had gifted Virenheim a female that could produce sons and though she had died with her second husband’s child, Gilfony had been special. He had looked at his grandfather in the same fascination and adoration of any child looking to a relative… he had never judged his grandfather.
If there was one regret that Alagpo held in his heart that was strong enough to keep him standing, seemingly frozen, then it was this wish to have given that love back and been like a father to Gilfony as he should have been….
Damara had noticed the seemingly frozen manner of the being and lunged out with a scream of rage, crashing into Alagpo and throwing him across the courtyard and away from the stone. The priest landed on the ground, his head bashing heavily against the stone and his body prone; he was not dead, but he was not going to be moving for at least a little while and Damara had bought herself and Karayan the chance to react. As she spun about to grab the stone, the golden rays shot out to attack her and she dropped onto the ground with a scream of agony. The bright light from the gold almost burnt into her eyes, making her howl as she tried to smother her face and stop the light touching her. The stone was obviously corrupted, and it would have intended to hurt Damara more had not the strange shroud about her body not spat out a chunk of itself to wrap around the stone. The shroud was saving her, and she pulled herself up to look to the stone before she heard the final click on the door drop like a low rumble of thunder.
The stone wall suddenly creaked open with the horrendous grinding and Damara had to grab the stone and the priest to leap out of the way of the opening doorway. As she landed on the ground and dropped the burning stone with a whimper of agony, she watched the massive form of the Karayan lunge over her and slam against the stone. Damara lifted her head to watch the great being slam his body against the stone with enough force it should have broken every bone in his body but instead was pushing it back. His great claws dug into the stone of the door, hooking it up and holding it tightly as his other claws stabbed through into the floor to keep him from falling backwards. His helmeted head was pressed firmly against the stone, forcing it back and as Damara turned to the doorway, she howled again as she spotted the great hand of the archdemon straining into the gap and behind this form the shades of demonic minions starting to emerge as the door turned from stone to something akin to wood.
“Damara… I’ve got the door, use your magic to push the demon back!” The Karayan groaned, his voice painfully strained and his body vibrating in agony as the heat of the demon’s form tried to squeeze its way past him first. The shroud upon his body lunged upward, slapping about to seemingly swallow the heat and smother the gaps of the door. The Karayan was able to push the door straight back against the wall, but it was obviously taking the majority of his strength. Damara remained sitting in terror, her eyes swelling with horror at the realisation that the demon was inches from her! She shook her head to get back into reality as the Karayan gave out a painful scream and the fingers of the demon began to press against the door.
Pulling up balls of icy light with her hands and practically flicking them at the demon, Damara tried to do her best and was startled to see the ice smashing chunks off the demon’s form. But these chunks were quickly reabsorbed back onto the body and the fingers pushed to get enough room to squeeze around the door. There was the oppressive, air-devouring heat still around them and Damara was petrified as she continued to throw ice, but it did not seem to affect the strength of the monster. Her eyes noticed the nasty figures appearing behind the demon’s hands, they needed to shut the door, or they were all going to die! Throwing ice again and again, screaming and hollering at the being to go away, Damara became faster and her body began to glow with the same purple haze that had assisted her before. This added speed and strength seemed to do a bit more damage and she could hear a beautiful song whistling within her ears that was making the Karayan roar in fury at the strange high-pitched screeching sound he was hearing about her!
When the demon’s hand pulled back, just one large finger hooking its way around the door, the Karayan quickly spotted the chance to react and began to slowly move a hand into the depths of the shroud. The great black talon on the finger suddenly hooked at his shroud but was smacked back by Damara’s ice and it seemed to pull away. The Karayan then gave a loud bark as he snatched his axe from within his folds and then smacked it into the limb. Damara spotted what he was doing, dodged to avoid the venomous spray of orange hissing blood that burnt at the shroud and coated the Karayan’s screaming form. She felt the fury grip her at seeing her companion in agony and once more sucked in a deep breath with her own roar of fury as the sword of ice appeared in her hands and she lunged forward. In one great icy swing that felt like a cleaver trying to hammer through a particularly tough chunk of meat, Damara’s sword exploded and with it the finger popped off, the door slammed shut and the Archdemon produced a roaring sound of agony, pulling itself backward as his minions disappeared.
The monster would have fallen down the chasm into the Viren River below as the bridge disappeared, but the monster’s other hand managed to cling tightly onto the broken tower. It wrestled and roared, screamed out in agony and rage in strange almost reptilian squeals as it dangled from the stone wall. Its burning form stabbed into the cliff face, breaking tunnels and making the ground quake as the collapsing caverns and passages slaughtered monsters and elves alike gripped within battle below. The archdemon was not defeated yet, it was going to take a lot more work but as the doorway spell faded, Damara darted to the bloodied form of the Karayan as his shroud seemed to drop off with little ‘pisp’ sounds of death. Damara knelt beside the figure, staring in shock at the brilliant bronzed skin beneath and the scarring on the body before the Karayan pulled the helmet from his head and gave a groan of agony.
“The shroud can only protect against so much… it will repair if it gets the time, but we’ve got precious little left. Damara you’ve got to destroy that stone…” The Karayan snarled gently as he tried to yank himself up off the ground but slid straight back. He had overdone it; his body no longer had the power to do anything but sit with his back to the door; he needed to regain his strength and thankfully Damara quickly gave him a firm hug to make him smile before she turned on her heel. As she faced the form of golden stone still wrapped in the shroud, her eyes widened in disgust and horror as the severed finger of the demon straightened itself and seemed to start shuffling towards the stone! The Karayan spotted and produced a bark and Damara lunged. “DESTROY THE STONE – NOW!”
The terror above resonated below as the Core members and those soldiers having sought escape underground came face to face with a rampaging army of orcs and monstrous beings. They had been the second lot to charge through the opening in the Rice Walls, their initial companions having all been killed in the ensuing flood of the prison. With the Karayan now no longer below they were spilling out across the narrow bridge and swarmed wherever they could see their enemies to kill or items to loot. The clamour in their wake deafened most of the elves as they began to fight in the hopes of cutting the swarm down and protecting the bridge to the king. It was the first time in their history that the Rice Wall had been breached, that the prison had flooded or that the enemy was within the kingdom of Virenheim.
Martum was trying to fight his way to the nearest tower, hoping that he could lure some of the enemy within range of the archers lining up ready to take aim. There were also the traps on the floors that needed to be activated around the market squares and the bridges, but there were too many members of the Core present to risk it. As he jabbed and dodged and let blades crash against the firm length of his spear, Martum could tell that it would not be long before the bridge to the King’s Tower would explode and only the inner world of their
kingdom would be looted. So far none of the enemy had gone that way but it was only a matter of time until they did. As Martum continued to wrestle against the heavy blade of one orc brute, he was suddenly thumped in the jaw and sent sprawling across the ground as the giant beast’s companion joined him in preparing to hack the elf down. But Martum pulled his spear up off the floor and gave a savage snarl before the beam exploded in brilliant amber coloured fire, spinning out of control and seemingly slicing up the monsters in its way. Martum did not have the strength to keep this up for long but it was enough for him to get up and back up to the bottom of a tower when he felt something strange.
There was a sensation in the air that made everything present pause, their bodies feeling weak as if something were drawing the energy from their being and then their ears began to burn. Something like a high-pitched whistle was sucking in the air and the energy, rushing to their direction and ready to attack. Martum’s sensitive ears were pinging with pain and the elves began to back off amongst the crowd, not sure what was going on but clearly in agony from it. The beastly figures amongst their enemy remained frozen, beady eyes drawn towards a strange green haze upon the horizon and they were drawn to stare like moths at a flame. Something was galloping in their direction and just as Martum began to wonder what it might be, there was a sound of bare feet clapping against the rock and then everything went quiet.
CRACK!
There was a sound like an explosion, some great crash of thunder slamming into the stone floor and splitting it in half. Orcs fell into the abyss below but green strands of fire locked elves together and kept them in safety. The beasts not falling lay prone on the ground, dead from the power of the explosion and those elves not hanging on tendrils lay stunned with their senses lost. Eyesight, hearing, a sense of touch or indeed the realisation that they needed to breathe was all lost for ten vital moments before the world was no longer filled with a green flash but a strange roaring sound. As the elves shuffled on the ground, gasping and clawing for solid foundation, they realised that the other enemy beings not hit by the blast were trembling in terror nearby as they looked towards the figure standing on a small pillar of rock seemingly supported by nothing. This figure was about five-foot-eight, bald to the point their scalp was bleeding from being shaved too close, furious as they snarled and sneered at everything around them and brandishing a curious whip-like weapon that was boiling with green fire and producing loud roars of hunger and fury. They all knew who it was standing before them, though the fact they could even stand was an astonishing feat.
Traitor to the King: A Tale of the Benaga Sisters Page 43