Soul Blade, page 25
part #3 of Sword of Light Series
Inken swore again and shook her head. “I’ll be damned if you’re going to die on me, Caelin. Elton!” the young commander stood over them, his back turned and his sword raised to fend off any enemy that came near.
He glanced back at them, concern written across his face. “How is he?”
Inken shook her head. “Not good, we need to get him to the healers.”
Elton nodded and, with a final glance to ensure there was no one close, crouched down and took Caelin under his shoulder. Caelin groaned as the young commander took his weight, his leg pulsing with the beat of his heart.
“Quit your complaining,” Inken whispered in his ear. “It’s your own fault you got half your leg bitten off.”
Caelin gritted his teeth, unable to respond through the pain.
Together, Inken and Elton carried him towards the stairs and the citadel below. Men streamed past them in the opposite direction, rushing to reinforce the defenders on the wall. They joined the steady stream of injured stumbling down towards the distant infirmary.
Not that Caelin had much hope of making it that far.
As they reached the ground men and women rushed towards them, but his friends shook them off. Despite his protests they would not leave him in the hands of strangers.
They would not let him die alone.
Even so, a man joined them, leaning down to inspect Caelin’s leg as they continued in the direction of the citadel. The purple diamond on his chest marked him as a doctor from the Earth temple. A rush of sadness swept through Caelin as he remembered Michael, and the diamond his friend had worn proudly to the end.
“What happened?” the man asked.
“Feline,” Inken grunted.
“Got the bugger,” Caelin managed to croak.
Inken smiled. “Pretty sure I had to finish him off for you,” he didn’t miss the wink she flashed at the young doctor.
Before any of them could continue, a boom shook the ground beneath them. Caelin groaned as his friends staggered and almost fell. He looked up to see the earth rippling like a wave, throwing men and women from their feet as it rushed across the open field.
A second before it struck Inken and Elton dropped to the ground, pulling him down with them.
Then the world erupted in chaos.
*************
A deep exhaustion wrapped around Enala as she stared across at Archon, a desperate weariness that stretched down to her very soul. Magic coursed through her veins, its touch soft yet all-consuming. Her legs moved, her eyes sweeping out to meet those of Gabriel and Eric, but the movements were beyond her comprehension now.
Brothers, the Goddess’ thoughts whispered in her mind.
Are you ready? Darius replied.
Hatred unlike anything Enala had experienced swept through her, followed by the surge of God magic. It swirled in her chest, but the power no longer seemed alien or threatening. It was a part of her, its green tendrils embedded with her very being. The Soul Blade was no more; it had crumbled to dust as she stood, its remnants catching in the wind and scattering across the ocean.
There was only her now.
Antonia smiled. “Let’s put an end to this, brothers.”
The dark laughter of the false God shook the air, but Antonia was not afraid. For the first time in centuries, the three of them stood together once more, their mastery of the elemental world complete. No force on earth could stand against them.
“Come now, my old nemeses, you cannot think that shrivelled excuse for a God can help you?” Archon grinned. “There is nothing left of his spirit. I can see it!”
At his final words Archon threw out his arms. The air crackled as darkness gathered in his palms and surged towards Darius. Her brother stumbled backwards, a thin, pale light rising to meet the attack. But the darkness smashed through it and caught Darius in its awful power.
And the God of Light crumpled like leaves before an autumn breeze.
“Darius!” Antonia screamed, reaching out for the soul of her brother.
Fear not, sweet sister, Darius’ words echoed in her mind, even as Archon’s laughter gathered force.
“So much for the God of Light,” Antonia shivered in disgust as the dark Magicker’s words hissed in her ear.
Antonia spun, but she was not fast enough. Pale fingers whipped out and grasped her by the throat. She choked as the icy fingers began to squeeze and a dark shadow clawed its way inside her. She kicked feebly in Archon’s grasp as he lifted her into the air.
“So much for your sacrifice, children. You could have ruled the world, could have conquered these puny people. But instead you chose death,” Archon growled, holding her high.
Fighting against the darkness burning at her spirit, Antonia reached out and hurled her magic at their foe. The ground erupted beneath them and a fist of earth smashed Archon from his feet. Antonia spun through the air as his iron grasp released her, twisting to land gracefully on a rocky column that reached up to catch her.
She smiled as Archon regained his feet, glad at least for her new body’s agility. Then the joy faded, sadness rising to replace it. She could feel Enala’s soul within her, already shrivelling, overcome by Antonia’s being.
I will not let your sacrifice be in vain, she whispered in her thoughts.
“They did not choose death,” Jurrien dropped from the sky to land beside her.
“They chose life for everyone they loved,” Darius appeared from thin air on her other side.
Archon growled, brushing dust from his clothes. “I see you are still a master in the fine art of running away, Darius.”
Darius grinned. “You have grown used to battling the limited powers of mortals, Archon. Yes, we are masters. Together, there is nothing we cannot do.”
“You know nothing of my power!” Archon roared.
Archon raised his arms and darkness congealed around him, swelling outwards to engulf his body. A tingle of warning came from deep within Antonia and the image of a Phoenix rose from Enala’s memories.
But she could sense Darius’ magic rising in response, the Light bubbling in his raised fist. He gave a wild howl, the sound filled with the pain of centuries, and threw out his arm. Light erupted across the plain, casting the world in a brilliant white. A beam of power shot towards Archon, smashing through his darkness, pressing it down, driving it back to whence it came.
Archon’s face twisted with rage as the darkness retreated. For a moment his magic faltered and his features warped, revealing the horror beneath. Time had ravaged his mortal body, boiling his skin into waxy lines, eating away his teeth and turning his ice blue eyes to white. His hair had died away, leaving only a few tangled wafts that fluttered on the breeze.
With a scream, Archon threw out his hand and the image vanished, replaced again by the ageless face of the dark Magicker. He pointed a finger and a spear of darkness tore through Darius’ light, shearing its way towards her. Antonia shook her head, her magic racing out to defend her, and a shield of stone erupted from the ground to block the darkness.
Lightning crackled from Jurrien as the Storm God joined the fray. The electricity dancing along his body raised the hairs on Antonia’s arms, but she was too preoccupied to notice. Magic swelled in her chest as she tore her shield aside, allowing her brothers to attack. Blue and white fire rippled through the gap as they unleashed their power.
Antonia drew more power from within, determined to add her strength to the fray. It would take all of them to end this, and though she drew no pleasure from the destructive might of the Earth, she would make an exception for Archon.
Vines split the ground beneath the dark Magicker, whipping up to bind him tight. Black flames rippled from his body, burning the shoots to ash, but they were everywhere now, the thicket re-growing in the instants between blinks. Drawing a breath, Antonia pulled at the vines, trapping Archon tighter as they tore at his mortal body.
Archon thrashed amidst the green of her creation, but she sensed his power weakening now, and knew Darius was working his own magic. The Light throbbed around them, driving back the darkness. She smiled, relief pouring through her. Before Archon had overwhelmed her magic without effort, but now he was suffocating, his power cut off at its very source.
Another pulse of darkness swept from Archon, eating at her power, but Antonia gritted her teeth and poured more of herself into the fray. Beside her, Jurrien took to the sky, raising his fists to summon the storm. Wind swirled around him, hail and lightning rushing in to join his hurricane. Darius throbbed with power, light flashing from the body he wore, so bright even Antonia had to look away.
The darkness around Archon shrank further, the black fire dying with each boom of light. With a final flicker, the shadows around Archon went out, disappearing to nothing. Beneath the glow of Darius’ power, the ancient face of Archon reappeared amidst the thicket of vines.
“No!” Archon screeched. The word rang with his mortal fear, his sudden terror, and Antonia knew Darius had trapped his power.
Without it, Archon was helpless.
“It’s time,” Darius’ voice was quiet, filled with sorrow.
Antonia nodded, feeling the same emotion sweep through her. In all their time in the mortal realm, they had never killed, never used their powers to take a human life. Yet Archon left them no choice now, no other alternative.
He could not be allowed to live.
“Please,” Archon had ceased to struggle now. He hung limp amidst her vines, his body shrunken with age, the fear in his eye a pitiful sight.
But Antonia would not be fooled. Given one second, a single opening, and Archon would turn them all to ash.
Releasing a long breath, Antonia summoned her power and dove deep into the earth. A rumble came from far below as the ground shook. Then with a shriek of shattered rock a fissure opened beneath their feet, tearing apart the fabric of the earth itself. A soft red light came from far below, the fires of the earth themselves, their unquenchable heat awaiting their sacrifice.
Above Jurrien nodded, and as one the three Gods drew on their magic.
Lightning boomed as Jurrien unleashed the storm. The dark clouds rushed down into the bramble of vines, tearing the last remnants of darkness from Archon. He screamed, limbs thrashing amidst her entrapments as lightning burned and the vines pulled him down beneath the crust of the earth.
Darius rose into the air, drifting across until he hovered over the crevice. Below Jurrien’s storm still raged, the flicker of lightning catching amidst the red glow of the earth’s core. Flames roared as white fire took form around the God of Light, burning with the heat of the sun. Closing his eyes, Darius pointed at the conflagration far below.
White fire rushed down into the crevice. A roar carried up to them as the inferno joined the hurricane.
Pain tore at Antonia’s spirit as she sensed the life fleeing the body below, but she knew the job was not done yet. Regret clawed at her soul, but she did not hesitate. The air popped as she sent a last wave of magic down into the earth.
A column of light burst from the fissure: white, blue and red mingling in the sky overhead. A final shriek came from far below, desperate and filled with fear. But there was no stopping her magic now, no mercy left to save Archon. The red glow of molten rock crept up to meet the storm, its power inexorable.
With a final roar, the insatiable fires of the earth claimed their ancient enemy.
*************
When the shaking finally ceased, not a soul moved. The enemy stood silent amongst the soldiers of the Three Nations, staring at the sky in silent expectation. A note of finality hung in the air, a sense that the battle was over, the outcome decided. They had only to wait and see whose side had emerged victorious.
Inken held her breath, her eyes with those of her comrades, praying for a glimpse of her friends in the skies above Fort Fall. Caelin sat beside her, his face twisted with pain but his eyes still on the sky, Elton on his other side. Together they waited.
Eric and Enala came first, soaring over the fortress as the clouds cleared before them. Gabriel followed behind them, his arms folded as the wind tossed his auburn hair. Inken felt a twist of pain as she looked at him, knowing he was no longer the man she knew. It was Jurrien, wearing the body of her friend.
Even so, Inken could not keep the elation from her spirit. They had survived, had won the final battle and cast down the dark powers of Archon. Tears ran down her face as she watched them come, her hands covering her mouth as she struggled to contain her joy.
Cheers rang out across the fortress as men and women threw up their hands in victory. Blades clattered to the ground as the enemy dropped their weapons, the despair of defeat sucking away their strength. Without Archon they knew they could not stand against the magic of the Gods. Their cause was lost; there was no point in throwing away their lives as well.
As one the beasts turned and fled, tails flashing as they raced from the battlefield, eager to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the power that had defeated their master.
Inken watched the three drift down, coming to rest in the field on which they stood. Swallowing, she glanced at Caelin.
“Go,” he waved a hand, obviously fighting back pain but still managing a smile.
Inken surprised herself with a yelp of delight. She sprang to her feet, leaving Caelin behind with Elton, and raced across the barren field, her boots slipping in the torn up mud.
Ahead Eric turned to watch her come, but as their eyes met he did not move. Instead, sadness swept across his face and his shoulders slumped. Inken slowed as she stared into the eyes of the man she loved, her heart thudding hard in her chest.
Something was different. Something was wrong.
Step by step, she drew closer, the terror rising in her stomach.
At last she stood before the three of them.
And she knew.
Eric’s gaze enveloped her, filled with love and sadness, but the difference now was unmistakable. She could see it in his eyes. They were no longer the blue of lightning, but a pale white, filled with an infinite depth. An ageless knowledge stared back from those eyes, soft and caring.
But Eric was not there.
Inken turned to Enala, opening her mouth to scream, to ask why, to demand an answer, but the words caught in her throat. Enala’s eyes had turned to violet and glowed with power, but there was no sign of her friend there.
Sinking to her knees, Inken felt her hope crumble to dust.
Twenty Five
Inken sucked in a breath as she stood staring at the door to the council room. Reaching up one last time, she wiped the tears from her eyes. A shudder ran through her, but she swallowed hard and pushed down her grief. Grasping the handle of the door, she shoved it open and strode inside.
Eyes turned towards her as she marched past the guard and took an empty seat. She glimpsed pity in the faces of her comrades and tried to ignore it. But her sadness only deepened as she looked at those seated around her. May and King Fraser sat at the head of the table, Elton and Caelin joining them on either side.
There was no one else.
Biting back fresh tears, Inken slumped in her chair, the memories of her fallen friends flashing through her mind. The kindly, wrinkled face of Alastair, the warmth of Michael’s generous spirit, the iron strength of the old warrior, Alan.
She remembered the wild strength of Enala’s smile, her unquenchable determination in the face of evil. And Gabriel’s quiet presence, even when gripped with madness, solid, reliable.
And Eric…
So many lives, gone before their time.
Looking around the table, she attempted a smile in the face of the sorrow reflected in the eyes of her friends. It came out as a grimace, but the others said nothing. Each wore fresh clothing and looked better for a full night’s sleep. That, and the healing magic of the Goddess.
Inken closed her eyes, seeing again the warm green glow emerging from Enala. Antonia, she reminded herself with an angry growl. The light had spread out across the fortress, falling on the defenders and enemy alike. Wherever it touched, broken bones and torn flesh had knitted itself back together within seconds. Those on the edge of death had suddenly sat up and looked around. One by one the fallen had regained their feet and turned to stare at the three Gods standing in their midst.
Inken fought back a sob as she recalled the words Eric had spoken, their tone so different from that of the man she loved.
“People of the Three Nations,” his voice carried to the furthest corners of Fort Fall. “I am Darius, and I have returned. The Magicker, Eric, has given his life to return me to your world. The brave souls of Enala and Gabriel have done the same for my siblings, restoring us to life,” he waved to the Gods to either side of him. His head bowed then, and Inken saw the shame in his eyes. “I am sorry I abandoned you, though it was Archon who trapped me. But he is gone now, destroyed. His shadow will never touch our lands again.”
A chorus of cheers rang out across the fortress, enveloping the brave men and women who had put their lives on the line to protect their homes, their families.
Amongst them the enemy still stood, their eyes wide with fear. They stared at the Gods, their faces filled with dread.
Somehow, the eyes of Darius found each of them. “As for you who have fought against us…” his eyes hardened. “You may return to your homes in the north. When we are done healing the damage you have caused to the Three Nations, we will come to you. Those of you who have committed no crime will have the chance to return. Now go!”
Darius’ final words shook the air itself, and as one the enemy turned and fled.
After that, the three Gods had bid their farewell, fading away until there was nothing left of them but empty air.
And Inken sitting alone in the mud, staring at the space where Eric had stood.
Back in the council room, the dagger in Inken’s chest twisted again at the memory, driving deeper. The pain was too much and she could not hold back her groan.
