The Reckoning, page 21
“Consider it done, Captain.” The man disappeared along the ramparts.
Erik’s breath rattled in his throat. “Etan?”
“I am here Erik.”
Erik clutched his arm. “Look after her…tell her…I loved her.”
Etan found Erik’s hand. “Tell her yourself, my friend, she comes even now as we speak.”
The battle was drawn away from the two men with the opening of the gates, and the rebel warriors were storming into the castle grounds.
The three Dorrachians still stood with their shields locked in front of their king.
****
Skylah, from her position below in the courtyard, had seen Erik fall and her mind screamed. Erik. Not Erik! With reckless abandon, she slashed wildly at her opponent and dashed up the staircase through the enemy, pushing and slaying any who blocked her path. Her eyes met Etan’s as she reached his side. The bleak look he gave her said it all. She dropped her short sword and sank to her knees beside Erik, seeing for the first time the shaft in his stomach, so close to his lungs. Too close.
Erik’s eyes opened, straining to focus on Etan. “Find Kaden. I must see…my brother.”
“I will go.” The former Faerie made to rise, but Etan stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.
“No. Stay. He needs you.”
When she met Etan’s eyes, they held a wealth of pain. “May the gods be with you. Be careful.”
He pushed to his feet, threw her a last look as if he were about to say something, then spun and sprinted along the ramparts.
“Skylah?” Erik croaked. His voice strained.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a smile. “I am here, my love.”
He coughed, and blood formed on his lips. She wiped it away.
Erik tried to focus on her face. “I am…sorry.”
Rain blended with her tears as she took his hand, so cold, and brought it to her lips. “Why, my dearest? There is nothing to forgive. You saved us all. We have beaten them back.”
Erik sagged and closed his eyes, the effort to keep upright becoming too great. “I wanted so much to see you my queen.”
She slipped her arm beneath his shoulders and bowed her head, her lips close to his ear. “In my heart, I will always be your queen.”
“Kiss me…let me taste your lips for a…”
His words trailed off as Skylah leaned forward, touching her lips gently to his. They tasted of blood and rain. “I love you,” she whispered. “I will always love you.” Tears slid down her cheeks, mingling with the rain.
He opened his eyes and gave a weak smile. “I know…you tried.”
She made to speak again, to tell him she did love him, that he had to believe her, but Kaden ran toward them. She gave Erik into his care, and Etan helped her stand.
“Thank you.” Kaden’s eyes were dark with pain.
She cast Erik a last helpless glance as Etan led her along the battlements out of their hearing.
****
The Wolfhead Prince dropped to his knees and took his brother in his arms. “Erik, why?”
Erik coughed, and a tremor ran through his body. “I could not let you…have all the glory.”
He ran a hand over his eyes. “I thought we had made it through together. One cursed arrow—if only I…”
His brother clutched his hand with a short bout of strength, and his voice reinforced. “No. I will not let you blame yourself for this also. I was the one who chose to open the gate. Not you. What is done cannot be undone.” A cough rattled from his throat, and a dribble of blood escaped the side of his mouth. “Lean me against the battlement wall, and…my sword.”
Kaden did as his brother bid and retrieved his sword from whence it had fallen and pressed it into his hand.
He slumped back against the stone battlement. “Promise me one thing.”
He sat beside Erik, supporting him the best he could. “Anything.”
The young king closed his eyes, each breath a greater pain. “Rule justly brother, and defeat Sernon.”
Kaden’s hand tightened over his brothers. “ ’Tis already done.”
“And…look after Skylah. She was to be my queen.”
“Of course. You know I will. Stay.” Tears brimmed his eyes.” I need you. I cannot do this on my own.”
“You can. You are stronger than you think.” Erik relaxed, and a smile formed on his lips. “I can feel the sun on my face. Can you feel it, Kaden?”
He stilled. “No.” He spoke slowly, his words heavy. “Just the rain.”
Erik’s eyes widened. He looked past Kaden and tried to rise. “Father, you have come to walk with me. You look….” The young king’s voice softened, yet his words were clear. “Lend me your hand…Father. My strength has all but failed me.”
Kaden let go of his other hand as his brother tried to raise it and looked behind him.
The three guards still stood blocking them from harm. When he looked back, he saw Erik’s hand slip limply to his thigh and his head sag sideways against the wall.
He swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump in his throat, and hold back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. He leaned forward to touch his lips gently to his brother’s brow and close his golden eyes for a last time. Then, he leaned Erik back against the wall, pushed the arrow from his chest, and dropped it to the cold stone. “May the Gods of Elysium smile upon you, brother. You will walk into the Hall of our Ancestors, proud.”
He rose and nodded to Skylah, and when he looked back, she was kneeling at Erik’s side, holding his hand, speaking to him quietly words he would never hear. Tears trickled down her cheeks.
He turned and took Etan’s arm, leading him from the scene.
“Let her have her moment. Can you still fight?”
Etan’s gaze slid back to Skylah and Erik. His hand tightened on his sword. “Try and stop me.”
“Then let us be at it. I have a sorcerer to kill.” Kaden took off at a sprint, racing halfway down the staircase. “Come to me you bitch-bred bastards and taste Dorrachian steel.” He leapt over the side and drove his sword deep into the gut of an Urakian officer with the full weight of his body behind the blow, then dragged his sword clear and disappeared into a swirling sea of noise, blood slicked cobblestones, and lethal blades.
****
The young Elisian followed and vaulted onto the back of a giant with flowing white hair. The man momentarily stunned, spun, and slammed Etan to the ground. Winded, he watched in horror as a battle-axe rose above him.
Then the man faltered and dropped his axe. Etan rolled to the side, and the giant toppled to the ground to lie in the place he had occupied. He twisted and stared up into the face of a grinning, black bearded dwarf standing on the stone guardrail of the battlement stairs.
The giant’s skull had been crushed by one powerful blow from the dwarf’s giant hammer, “Come on, laddy, get up,” he said with a grin offering his hand. “A battle is no place to rest. We have more skulls to crush!”
Etan took the dwarf’s outstretched hand and came swiftly to his feet. “I do not know your name.”
“I am Hammer Deathwielder, and you do now!” He held up his axe. “And this is Shae.”
Etan could see the blood lust in the dwarf’s eyes as he leapt down from the rail next to him. “Well met, dwarf, and you are a welcome sight indeed,” he shouted over the din of the battle. “I will guard your back.”
“As you wish, laddy,” Hammer shouted back, ducking, and bringing his mighty battle hammer back into play. “But do not get in my way!”
****
Tannith and Ohma drew closer to the Eye, they knew because the Cross’s song rang out increasingly louder.
They mounted the topmost step of the spiral staircase. The door of the tower room stood ajar. Light flickered from the gap around the edges and sounds of chanting emanated from within.
Tannith inched the door open with a sense of dread and peered into the dimly lit chamber. She knew soon she would be face to face with her nemesis.
Even with her night-sight, she was unable to penetrate the gloom at the far end of the room—as if an unnatural screen of darkness guarded those within.
She drew back, pulled her sword, and raised her foot to the door. It flew back on its hinges as she booted it inward.
Sernon’s chanting stopped, the room brightened with an eldritch light as he raised his head. Her heart skipped a beat, and her short, sharp scream split the air. His was a face she had seen in the temple long ago. The face of her God.
A draught rushed from the corridor, extinguishing the candles, and plunging the chamber to darkness.
A flash of sheet lightning outside the window illuminated the room for several long heartbeats.
The Necromancer’s face came back into focus as Magus’s name split from her lips.
“No, my dear.” Sernon mocked. “His brother.” With a casual flick of his wrist, he relit the candles lining the ritual room and motioned to the black robed priests flanking him.
They charged in unison, the first coming from Tannith’s left. She spun and brought her short sword around and across the neck of the priest. He died instantly, falling into a small brazier, scattering coals and ash across the floor.
Ducking to avoid a clumsy slash from the second man, she regained her balance and gave him a savage kick to the face. His hands flew up as she rammed her sword into his heart.
Ohma put paid to the third attacker with a hard crack from his rosewood staff, and the man crumpled.
Sernon watched the scene with casual interest as he leaned against the altar. He straightened. “Well done, my dear. You are more skilled than I thought. However, you have only served to delay the inevitable.”
“I would not be so confident, Master of Darkness.” Ohma spoke from the shadows. “Even now, your troops are beaten back. Your time is ending.”
Sernon laughed into the silence. “Welcome, Ohma. I was expecting you sooner.”
“I had more important matters to attend.”
The sorcerer’s face reddened as Ohma stepped into the light. “I see you still have your dry wit. But that is enough prattle. Did you bring the Cross?” His gaze went to Tannith’s throat. “Ah, I see you have—and assembled as well.”
“You will not have it.” Tannith’s hand curled tightly around the icon.” I would rather die than allow you to touch it.
Sernon reached down and smoothly drew back a black sheet from the body lying on the altar. “And I had so hoped you would be reasonable.”
“Father!” Tannith drew her sword and charged the sorcerer.
His hand swept up, and she hurtled through the air, aimed at a row of iron spikes jutting from the far wall, her sword dropping from her limp hand.
Ohma pointed his staff and a blue light of magick speared into her and she fell, sprawling and gasping, to the floor.
“Tut, tut.” Sernon’s smiled but his eyes were cold. “You cannot defeat me with a mere sword. I am all-powerful.” He waited for her to regain her breath and come to her feet. “For this one infringement, I will forgive you. Do not provoke me again.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “I have watched you in my mirror of illusions. You are a woman of fire and steel, a woman of greatness. Join me. Be my bride and there shall be nothing that I will not give you.”
A shiver of repulsion ran down her back, but she laughed mockingly. “Wed you? You are revolting and more insane than I thought. Never, would I marry you.” She raised her chin, and her voice rang out cold. “Release my father at once.”
A tall, dark figure filled the doorway—a bloodied warrior, with eyes of green ice and a voice of cold iron. “Do as she says.”
Sernon spun. “Ah, so Prince Kaden, you have arrived at last. This gets better and better. You are in time for the ritual.”
“You die now!” roared Kaden, his dagger flying from his hand.
As Sernon pointed, the blade stopped in mid-flight and transformed to a toad to drop and hop across the black marble floor.
Kaden rushed at Sernon, but he threw out his hand and the prince’s feet stuck to the ground. Rapping out unintelligible words, he conjured flames from the floor to encircle the Dorrachian Prince. Steam hissed from Kaden’s rain-drenched clothes, and fire licked at his flesh as the circle tightened.
“Stop!” Tannith grabbed a wolf skin from the floor to beat out the flames, but the magickle fire would not die. Tears of frustration filled her eyes. “Stop this. Stop it now!”
“Let the boy go,” demanded Ohma. “He is of no consequence. You want the Cross? Here take it!” He snatched the still humming icon from Tannith’s throat and tossed it at the sorcerer.
Sernon caught it one handed, and with the other, vanquished the flames.
“No!” Tannith rounded on Ohma. “Do you realize what you have done? You have destroyed our one hope of stopping him.”
Ohma made to touch her arm, but she pulled back.
“ ’Twas the only way…” he trailed off.
“I would rather be dead,” Kaden said, wiping the sweat from his brow as he threw Sernon a deadly look, “than sacrifice the Cross to him.”
The sorcerer grinned. “I shall accommodate you soon enough. However, first the ritual must be completed.” Sernon looked from one to the other. “I see you have supplied the main ingredient.” He pointed to the floor. “Feel free to stay.”
Their feet stuck solid to the black marble floor, and Sernon’s harsh laugh rang out, reverberating from the stone walls, and he turned, dragging the ebony sheet from Ephraen’s body, and proceeded to lay the Cross over the old king’s heart.
“You had this planned all along,” Ohma accused.
Sernon’s lip curled. “Is it not grand when a plan comes together?” A sardonic smile curved his lips as he drew his dagger and brought it down hard on the king’s ring finger, severing it from his hand. He then dropped the bloody appendage into a bowl of glowing green ingredients on an onyx pedestal beside him.
Bile rose in Tannith’s throat, and she forced it down and looked away. This could not be happening―to find her father, only to have him snatched from her in such an evil way. And her, helpless to come to his aid. She scanned the room—there must be a way.
Sernon lifted the silver bowl in supplication to the dark god, Arahmin. Rain fell upon his upraised face, plastering his ebony hair to his scalp. Lightning illuminated his pale features and red-rimmed eyes as arcane words trickled from his tongue.
“Bara’k, Halagraf, Narva, Del’ramok.”
The three friends stood, looking on in spellbound horror.
To Tannith, Sernon appeared the embodiment of all her nightmares, and like in a nightmare, she was unable to act. Drenching rain plastered his robes to his body, running in small rivulets down his face. Nevertheless, he was oblivious to her stare. Every person in the room seemed caught up in a sense of suspended time where there was no reality.
All except one.
“Wait!”
Sernon surfaced from his trance, a deadly white light in his eyes. He focused on Ohma. “You dare interrupt me? I could turn you to dust with a snap of my fingers.”
Ohma straightened to his full height and pulled his royal blue cloak around his bony shoulders. “Perhaps, but what would that achieve? Are you really the most powerful mage that ever lived? If you destroy the Cross, you will never know.”
A harsh laugh escaped Sernon. “Of course, I am the most powerful! Who could be more so? Surely not you?” he scoffed.
“Did not your brother defeat you in battle? Did not Magus send you to the Void and your body to the depths of an icy lake?”
Fleetingly, fear flickered in Sernon’s eyes, only to be replaced by a mask of arrogance. “I was tricked—I had him beaten.”
Ohma raised a snowy brow. “Did you?”
“That is the past, this is now.” Sernon’s tone was cold, flat. “Magus is dead.”
“With the Cross, you can evoke his spirit. Breathe life back into his body. You can have another chance. Only then will you know if you are greater, know whether you can really defeat him. If you are the true Master Sorcerer.”
For what seemed an eternity, Sernon’s pale, death-like eyes studied Ohma as if judging his intent.
Quickly, he bent and plucked the Eye of Magus from the Dragon’s claw at the head of his rosewood staff leaning against the altar.
With careful deliberateness, he fitted the stone to its rightful place at the center of the Cross.
****
Multicolored lights streamed from the faceted stone as the Cross vibrated. Its humming rose to a crescendo that resonated into the watchers’ heads. The room filled with white light. The rain stopped and a brilliant beam of sunlight streamed through the opening in the roof. On that beam, seeming to float on naught but the light itself, came the shadowy image of a man.
As the image reached the floor it manifested into a tall figure with white flowing robes. His strong, clean jaw, dark hair, and features matched those of Sernon exactly, except for his golden eyes, glowing now with a strange inner fervor.
“You have not changed at all, brother,” Sernon announced, his voice strained. “Always, the grand entrance.”
Magus smiled magnanimously. “You, on the other hand, brother, are looking decidedly haggard.” He raised a dark brow. “Have you been ill?”
Sernon’s red-rimmed eyes narrowed. For some uncanny reason, he felt unnerved by Magus’s glib reply. He seemed to have grown in stature and exuded a confidence he had never before felt in his presence. “What rules will apply?” he snarled. “The same as before?”
“No!” Magus roared. “None!” Lightning flashed from his eyes, striking into Sernon’s chest, hurling him across the black marble floor.
Singed and winded, Sernon’s fingers flew open, and the Cross dropped to skid along the ground.
