by D E Boske
“It’s just going to take some time, Kylee. He’s been hurt, as I know you have too. I think you are good for him and he is afraid to face what he’s done. He believes he deserves pain and punishment, not happiness. I know he cares for you, so don’t give up, okay?”
“I have no intention of giving up on him, Darian,” she said, smiling radiantly. “I have more
hope today than yesterday. His resolve is weakening.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, touching her cheek. Desire raced down her spine and exploded through her body. She wondered why she’d refused every one of his advances. Wait! These are not my thoughts or desires! I want Kelindril, not Darian. No matter how sexy he is. She gulped hard and he smiled a knowing smile, the sexy bastard.
Morning dawned bright and early; the sun warm already. Birds sang their trilling songs and the day felt full of promise. Kelindril avoided Kylee, he could not reconcile his feelings or desires for her. Darian left him alone and though Kelindril did not know it, the Mage told the others to stop pushing. This would take time and Darian was patient. The Mage understood that the elven assassin had been hurt, but to let it continue for this long? He didn’t understand it. Then he thought of Tynuviel and it started to make more sense. His love for her had eclipsed all else. Even now, he could not rid himself of her memory; the taste of her lips….
The heat continued to rise with the sun and soon, Shaz was irritable. Sweat rolled down his back and dripped into his eyes. The humidity only made it worse. It was difficult to breathe and Shaz found that he longed for the elven forest’s milder climate.
Darian fingered the Demon Stone around his neck, deep in thought. He’d need to contact Sigorna soon. He’d just finished the thought when grey smoke began to swirl around the Mage, announcing the demon’s pending arrival. As soon as his limbs touched the earth, his head swiveled from side to side, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air, taking in everyone in the group.
“What’s wrong, demon? What do you sense?” asked Darian, picking up on Sigorna’s mood.
“You have a traitor among you, Darian,” the demon warned.
“You know that I am already aware of this…” but the demon cut him off.
“Listen to me!” the demon hissed angrily. “I’m trying to tell you that they are traveling with you at this moment.”
“That’s not possible!” Darian fumed. “I searched each one myself.”
“Looks like you’re losing your touch,” replied Sigorna, in a mocking tone.
“Do you know who it is?” asked the Mage, his voice menacing. If he found this traitor, he would dismantle him in the most painful manner he could think of.
“Of course not! I would have led with that if I had. Honestly Darian, is your head up your ass?” The demon was really angry. Darian had never seen him like this and the demon had certainly never spoken to him in this manner before.
“Hey, what’s really bothering you?” queried the Mage.
The demon’s gaze fell upon the Mage and in his eyes swirled the cosmos. Almost any
being would have fallen victim to that stare, even fellow Mages, but not Darian. He warded himself against such intrusions.
The demon exhaled sharply, then said, “Sorry, I’m just irritable today.”
“No shit,” quipped the Mage and the demon chuckled. “And for the record, my head is not up my ass.” The demon laughed loudly at that while the other Mages cringed from the sound.
“Hard to tell, both ends look so similar. I’ll let you know if I sense something,” commented Sigorna, seeming to read Darian’s mind.
Darian tugged hard on the leash that bound the demon and Sigorna was dragged backward by an unseen force, his claws scarring the ground beneath him. Darian couldn’t care less about the demon’s attitude or his observations, but what Darian would not tolerate was the blatant disrespect he’d been shown. Their relationship was peculiar and poised on the edge of disaster, but there was no room for open disrespect. The Mage could ill afford to allow it in front of everyone. Especially since the traitor walked amongst them.
Sigorna eyed the Mage dangerously, he didn’t like Darian making him look foolish. He guessed he had it coming with his attitude, but still. Darian was never one to put up with any shit.
“Stay as long as you are able, demon. And let me know if you see anything suspicious,” said Darian quietly.
“Yes, master!” exclaimed the Falahari as he bowed low in a mocking fashion.
Darian pulled the leash taut, forcing the demon to confront him face to face. “I will not tolerate this shit!” Darian shouted, capturing everyone’s attention.
“Are they watching?” asked the demon, winking at Darian. The Mage could not let his amusement show.
“Yes,” he whispered, and though they were less than a foot apart, the demon barely heard him.
“Let’s give ‘em a show they’ll never forget,” said the Falahari, launching himself at the Mage.
The young Mage began casting immediately, sending shards of ice hurtling at the demon. He was able to duck some, but not all and those that survived the journey sliced into the demon’s flesh with a searing hiss. His skin smoked from the attack and he howled in pure agony. Darian did not give the demon time to recuperate, he pulled his staff free and Sigorna’s eyes bulged in shock. He was serious!
“Need your staff, Mage? Can’t beat me without it?” he taunted. Sigorna didn’t want Darian to use the staff. He had absolutely no desire to feel its bite.
Darian smiled a cold, wicked smile and swung the staff violently as he chanted the words
to a spell. The dweomer raced toward the Falahari’s legs taking them out from under him. The demon stumbled backward, losing his balance. The young Mage wound the invisible leash around his right arm and yanked as hard as he could. Sigorna was jerked to his feet and plunged forward, unable to stop and he plowed into the ground at Darian’s feet.
“How’s that humble pie tastin’?” taunted the Mage, which only seemed to infuriate the demon.
The Falahari launched himself to his feet, towering over the Mage, but Darian did not crumble under that stare. The Falahari swiped savagely with his claws, but Darian batted him away effortlessly.
Kyler drew his sword, but Kelindril held him back. “He is no match for us, elf prince,” warned the assassin.
“We can’t just watch this,” said Kyler, as he began moving toward Darian. Kryndale grabbed his arm and Kyler fought to free himself, but then Tryndil grabbed the other arm, disarming him easily.
“Kyler, Darian can take care of himself. The demon is beyond our skill. Besides, there’s no safe harbor when the Mage is casting.” Kelindril’s words appeared to have stilled Kyler’s insistence for now.
Shaz silently rooted for the demon. The Mage stood in the demon’s shadow, there was no way Darian could win this fight. The demon spread its wings and flexed its muscles as it prepared to strike. The demon roared as Oblivion’s fires limned its body. He tried to break the Mage’s concentration as he stomped his foot on the ground, sending powerful reverberations throughout the company.
An unearthly shriek filled the air, stealing everyone’s attention, as the sunlight was sucked out of the surrounding area. The Wraith appeared, hovering in the air and clinging to the shadows. Darian grimaced, their pretend battle had apparently attracted this evil apparition. It produced a broadsword and came right for Darian.
The Mage began casting in earnest, the stone on the Staff of Power glowing white hot. The Wraith flinched away from the light, but only momentarily. It seemed it wasn’t averse to the stone’s brilliance. The Wraith struck with the broadsword, but the young Mage was already blocking with the Staff of Power. The screeching noise that both weapons made as they met caused the company to cringe in protest. The Wraith’s sword appeared to be ethereal, and yet, Darian could still feel the vibration in his hands from the contact.
As the Wraith spun around for another attack, Darian saw that this was no mere Wraith.
This was a Dark Wraith, the spirit of a departed Dark Mage. He wondered if this was the same assailant as the other day. What could this mean? Was the Dark Mage closing in on his position?
Were they working together? He didn’t know, but he needed to concentrate now.
Thimkur readied a spell as Aganor finished his and they both sent the magic careening into the Dark Wraith. The spectre laughed at the futility of the attack. The sound of its laughter was like the exhumation of an old tomb and Darian thought it smelled similar too.
“Darian Brade,” it rasped, the sound like brittle old bones being dragged from the grave. It chuckled at his surprise. “The dead know of you, Mage, for you will soon be joining us.”
“That’s what you think,” the Mage replied, sending a fireball into the Dark Wraith’s midsection.
The heat radiating out from the ball of flame, nearly scorched the faces of those who stood too close. Kyler felt his face heat and flung himself backward just in time to avoid getting singed. But some of the others were not so lucky. Melanor shrieked in agony as the heat alone burned his face and arms. He didn’t want to imagine how painful it would have been if he’d been kissed by the flames. His skin began to blister, but there was no time for healing. They could not afford the distraction.
Raschel cast a lightning strike and the Dark Wraith turned its gaze toward him, freezing him where he stood. Darian threw his left hand out toward his friend, chanting the words to a spell. Once completed, a thick, oily substance engulfed them, protecting them from the gaze of death. Raschel seemed to awaken and cast another lightning spell. The Dark Wraith screamed in terrible pain as the bolt skewered it, making them all cringe.
Darian grasped the Staff of Power and the Wraith’s eyes lit with a hungry light. “Ah, the Staff of Power…” it whispered. “It is every bit what they say it is.”
“What who says it is?” asked the young Mage, awakening the stone that hovered above the staff. It flared to life, emitting a blinding, white hot light. The Dark Wraith screamed as the white light consumed its shadow.
Abruptly, it disappeared, but Darian knew the battle was far from over. He spun as the Wraith reappeared in their midst, striking out with its ethereal sword. It cackled as it struck, facing off against Nymdal, who did a back flip to avoid the blow and then a forward roll to come up behind the creature. Nym struck with his swords, both hands working independently, slicing right and left. Had the Wraith been corporeal, the attack would have severed its spine.
The Dark Wraith shrugged off the attack, sneering at the elf in contempt. Darian tossed a vial to Nym, “Coat your blade with this, you will need it,” the Gor Li’ Khan heard the Mage’s unspoken words and Nym nodded his understanding and did as told. He then passed it to Kelindril, who passed it until it was gone. Their blades glowed silver in the dim light and the Dark Wraith was wary of them. The whispers had warned that Darian was extremely intelligent and hard to kill and now the Wraith understood why. Not only did he possess unparalleled power,
he had his staff, as if the son of a bitch needed any more advantages.
Of a sudden, the Dark Wraith’s attention was drawn to something surrounding Darian. There was a chain around the Mage’s neck and it held some sort of stone… Black and amber swirled in its dark depths and it writhed with living energy. How was that possible?
Darian ordered the demon to command others to come through the Death Portal, and grey smoke boiled across the ground, adding more shadows to the already growing darkness. The demons materialized, battle ready, their hard, black nails sharpened and gleaming. Sigorna did not hesitate, he led the attack as soon as they were solidly on the plane.
The Wraith hid his shock well. He’d bound a demon from Oblivion? And a Falahari to boot. He was either stronger than they believed, or he’d gone mad. There was something else about him, but the Dark Wraith couldn’t pinpoint it. Something… aroused his senses. Something he had not felt in… an Era. As soon as the young Mage cast his next spell, the Wraith had its answer.
Darian slammed the butt of the Staff of Power onto the ground, as he chanted his next spell, the stone flaring to life once more. As he reached the climax, dark swirls began to devour the brilliant white light until there was no white left. He released the spell, black fire racing toward the target, intent on destruction.
The Dark Wraith tried to dodge the dweomer because it could feel the strength of the magic… Dark Magic! How was this possible? Dark Magic had disappeared with the last of the maniacal Dark Mages. The Dark Times were exactly that, when The Order banished the demons and destroyed the Dark Mages. The Dark Arts had died that day, but if they had, how had this young upstart learned?
The black fire licked at the Dark Wraith’s tattered garments, consuming it from the bottom up. The skeletal hands batted at the flames and cast a spell of its own. It called upon the dead and those gathered ‘round felt the ground seethe in tumultuous fury. The dark earth exploded upward as dozens of bony fingers clawed their way to freedom.
“Takasha!” yelled Kyler in surprise.
Calisha encased Nephraete and raced through the enemy ranks, killing many before they ever made it to the open air.
The demons surged forward, following Sigorna’s command, and tore the dead apart. Signora attacked the Wraith, his claws shredding the tattered robe encasing the rotting, animated corpse. The Wraith faced the Falahari and smiled a cold, dead smile. It extended its right arm, palm out, shooting a cone of cold at the demon. Sigorna howled in agony, the freezing cold burning him and depleting his strength and power. The Falahari’s movements slowed as his blood began to thicken in his veins. The Wraith continued to funnel the biting chill until the demon
collapsed, disappearing as it was sent back to its home of fire and blackness.
With the Falahari gone, the other demons disappeared too, dissolving into nothing, their link to the surface eradicated. Darian hissed in irritation, but there was nothing to be done about it now. Sigorna was fine, he knew. He could feel the Falahari’s strength beginning to return, but he blocked the demon from returning. This was a fight he could not win. They needed magic to defeat this incorporeal pain in the ass.
Renlyss ran to Darian’s side and pressed something into his left hand. He looked down at her and she smiled reassuringly at him, but he did not return the favor. Clasping the gem tightly in his hand, he pulled power from the Weave until he could hold no more. He held his staff aloft, tossed the gem up into the air, and released the Weave’s energy, funneling it through the Staff of Power.
The Mages stared in awe as they watched the young Mage draw more power than any of them could safely handle. They could feel the crackling energy that he held in his tight grasp and became mesmerized by it. Had any of them tried to contain so much power, it would have burned through them with righteous fury.
Darian’s quick thinking had always amazed Aganor, and watching him now, he couldn’t feel more proud. Darian had always been a quick study and learned everything faster than the others, which was why he’d been despised for so long. Aganor presumed the only reason they flocked to him now was that they knew he was their only salvation. If they remained in Mogan Dar, the Dark Mage would consume them all, bending them to his will like puppets.
The young Mage released the blast of energy and it rocketed into the Wraith, knocking it off balance and pinning it against an ancient looking tree. The Wraith fought to free itself, but was unable to do so. The Mage was too strong and the Dark Wraith could feel its life’s threads beginning to unravel with the unrelenting force that was Darian Brade.
The elves nearly lost their footing when Darian called on the Weave. The energy that the Mage drew and the speed with which he did it, was almost too much for them to handle. Elves being magical creatures, have an intimate connection with the Weave and Darian’s power and strength had always amazed and terrified them. He could bring about the destruction of Corillia with the power he commanded. Or he could be a savior. A savior infected with Dark Magic.
Could they trust him? Did they have any choice?
Darian felt the Dark Magic awakening in him, rushing to the surface, and he let it come. He needed it if he were to defeat the Dark Wraith. When Renlyss pressed the gem into his hand, he was already gone. He felt her touch and looked down into her smiling face and felt nothing. He took the gem and used it as The Order had taught him, tweaking it as the Weave spoke to him, urging him to funnel the power through his staff. Guided by the Weave and his instincts,
he whipped the energy into a frenzy and threw it at the Dark Wraith, pinning it to an old tree.
The Wraith screamed, writhing in agony, but could not break free. With one last burst of vitality, the Wraith cast a Dark Dweomer and flung it at the young Mage, intent on killing the audacious asshole. But to the Wraith’s surprise, the Mage’s eyes lit with dark desire and his magic came to life, consuming the Dark Energy the Wraith fed him. The Dark Wraith tried to sever the connection, but it was too late. Darian was far too strong and possessed of Dark Magic, there was nothing that could be done.
The Wraith hissed in anger, “He comes for you, Mage. You cannot hide from him. He will take everything from you and bend you to his will.”
Darian laughed, “Delvishan tried that too. Do you think he was successful?” the Mage sneered, as he twisted the magic viciously and ripped right through the Wraith, severing its connection with the plane. The Dark Wraith gave one final screech and dissolved into the aether.
23
They remained silent for a time after the Wraith’s destruction. They were all a bit unnerved by the attack and its resolution. Darian tucked the Staff of Power back in his Shryvven, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Thimkur, Aganor, and Alvos were the first to regain their senses and quickly had the others ready to continue. With the Wraith’s disappearance, the sun returned, bright and warm, seeming to mock them with its brilliance.
The battle took precious time that they did not have to spare. They needed to get moving as soon as possible. Darian was obviously able to use Dark Magic now and that was extremely dangerous without proper training. They’d all felt it the moment he interwove the Dark Magic. The Weave flared to life in his capable hands, urging him on and he did not disappoint. He never did, the bastard. He was still as strong and sure as he was before the Wraith appeared.