Authors: Jeremy Laszlo
Looking around the crowd, he realized there were several
present who were his senior yet none had stepped forward to verbally berate him
let alone pass any other judgment upon him. Perhaps none here recognized him.
Zorbin, not knowing what else to do, looked to his old friend Gumbi for the
answers.
“I know what yer thinkin,” Gumbi said before Zorbin could
even formulate his question. “Should yer actions become questionable I will
defend them.”
“What do you suppose we do now?” Zorbin asked.
Both men looked to the horror-stricken Linaya whom they had
temporarily forgotten about, and seeing her obvious disapproval Gumbi turned
and pointed to a young dwarf in the crowd.
“Go and fetch a priest,” Gumbi ordered the boy, before
gesturing to another young dwarf. “You go to the office of the council and tell
them that Drummit Ironfist disrespected and attacked Zorbin Ironfist, the
outcast of the same house, and was killed.” Then turning as if nothing out of
the ordinary had occurred at all, Gumbi began to stroll down the road once more.
Zorbin, taking his cue, motioned for Linaya to follow before striding off after
Gumbi. Again the three walked down the busy street but now none of them spoke,
each dealing with their own inner turmoil.
For more than an hour they walked on in silence as the
center of the dwarven city grew nearer and nearer. Though Zorbin had many fond
memories here in the home of his ancestors, they felt further and further away
with every step he took. He was already an outcast to his kind, having shunned
their traditions and beliefs. He wondered if he was even considered a dwarf any
longer by those of his race. If not, then he was not only a traitor, but now a
murderer as well. Whichever the case, he would know for certain in the hours to
come.
Looming before the trio stood the central building in the
vast dwarven city. Here was not only the residence of the king, but also the
nerve center of the entire dwarven nation. Life-size statues of past kings
surrounded the building and upon the outer wall the history of each and every
dwarven ruler was depicted by a series of engraved scenes that read much like a
child’s story book. Both Zorbin and Gumbi paused out of respect outside the
main entry. Though the wide-arched doorway stood open, the pair of dwarves each
dropped to a knee in front of the portal before rising to their feet once more.
Linaya, as was becoming her custom, stared intently at the carvings trying to
make sense of them all. Dwarves all knew the histories of each monarch. The
carvings simply stood as a reminder that here the dwarven nation was ruled, in
the same place it was once created.
Seth had been slaughtering common troops by the multitude
now for what felt like hours. He dared not hazard a guess as to how many lives
he alone had ended this very morning. Each life was precious, yet at present,
sparing them was not much of an option if he wanted his home, and those he
loved, to survive.
In the days past, and this very morning, Seth had lost
innumerable soldiers. Both his blessed and unblessed troops had fallen in
battle, filling him with their power and expanding both his mind and abilities.
Seth felt vast power coursing through him, so much so that now when siphoning
the lives of hundreds at a time he felt no pleasure from it. It was as if he had
built a tolerance to the euphoric effect the power had within him, yet he still
longed to feel it anew. Like an addict, Seth realized he simply needed a higher
dose, but dared not reach too far and consume too many lives at once. He alone
was aware of the consequences of straining his abilities. Instead he sought out
a stronger drug. Those blessed by the gods still brought him pleasure, and
presently there appeared to be an abundance to be had.
Seth steeled his resolve, tearing his focus away from the
form of his retreating wife and troops. Exhaling loudly, Seth sought those who
concentrated their powers in an attempt to destroy Valdadore. Reaching out with
his vast consciousness Seth could locate them all quite easily. Over four
hundred mages sworn to Sigrant had worked their way into the battle without
detection. Now, however, as they began to pray and call upon their blessings,
Seth found them. With his mouth watering, and heart hammering in anticipation,
Seth reached out to the mages nearest him. Just weeks ago a single blessed
opponent had been a challenge to strip of his power. Now he had grown and Seth
felt comfortable grasping at the swelling lives of near a dozen blessed mages,
and latching onto their magical umbilicals.
Bracing himself both mentally and physically he tore away
all twelve auras, pulling them into himself and luxuriated in the bliss that
followed. For a moment the umbilicals remained attached and Seth’s reserve
became bloated with the power of foreign gods. His body spasmed in ecstasy.
Shaking his head to clear it, Seth located his next targets and unleashed
thirty unnatural blue-green fireballs incinerating even more would-be wizards.
Thrilled to yet again be infused with power and pleasure,
Seth sought those he would next siphon from. He decided to up the ante slightly
and test his increased abilities. A fraction of a second later another fifteen
mages vanished into piles of ash, trampled upon by their own comrades. Naught
but their belongings remained. Seth fought the urge to moan as again his body
was momentarily wracked by pleasurable fits. A smile dared creep across his
lips, and for it he felt guilty. All life was precious and valuable.
Trying to focus himself again Seth used his vision of the
gods and immediately threw up a protective barrier of pure energy. Magical
attacks by the hundreds were being flung from all corners of the battlefield.
Lightning, fire, ice, magically summoned stone and wind lanced at him, and even
things Seth could not recognize. Seth braced himself, unsure of his ever
changing limitations. One on one Seth knew he could stand before any mage upon
the field and be his better. Yet even Seth was unsure if he could withstand the
onslaught of over three hundred mages at once.
Already filled with stolen power, Seth hid behind his
magical shield for the first round of attacks. The entire battleground seemed
to take on an eerie silence as magical fire roared and lightning snapped and
crackled and then the attacks hit. Like a tidal wave crashing upon a shore, the
attacks pummeled Seth’s shield. As they struck, great blasts of power exploded
as pieces of Seth’s protective wall began to disintegrate beneath the assault.
Everyone remotely near to Seth retreated for fear of being caught in the
crossfire, for all knew that the death mage would not stand idly by and let
these lesser mages harass him. Little did they realize, however, that Seth was
tiring beneath the assault.
Though the onslaught came as a raging river of magical
attacks washing over him, Seth prepared to do the unthinkable. With so many
standing in opposition to him, his shield could not hold. It was thinning and
tearing, and repair it as he could, Seth could not keep up. Though mightier
than his foes man to man, together they could defeat him. Seth knew that if he
did not even the odds, he and Valdadore would fall in the moments to come.
Seth dropped the magical shield for an instant and sought to
absorb the maelstrom of attacks thrown at him. He took and contained hundreds
without harm. Within moments the power within him began to fight him, seeking
an escape. Seth continued to collect the power.
He was taking a risk since he knew full well that the
outcome of such a gamble was unpredictable. History was proof enough of that.
Even so, Seth absorbed the power until he felt as if he were bulging at the
seams, ready to split from the strain. Instead of restoring his magical shield,
bigger and better than before, Seth went on the offence.
Gathering all of the stolen power he had acquired, and was
still acquiring, Seth focused himself inwards as he had learned how to do
months before. Raising his hands before him, palms out, he unleashed all of the
power simultaneously.
In that instant, many upon the field of battle thought the
world had ended. Such was the force of the magic Seth unleashed that it could
not have been described as anything aside from unholy. Like the world itself
was splitting in two a great splintering sound rent the air as the ground began
to crack at Seth’s feet and widen as it exploded ahead towards the frozen lake
a thousand yards away. Above the shattered ground a great whistling wind lent
itself to the fray. So great was its force that men were torn from their feet
and cast upon its currents, its tendrils stripping flesh from bones and bark
from trees. Bodies rained down upon the ground like hail as those who fell into
the great chasm in the ground screamed for what seemed an eternity before their
sounds snuffed out.
The ground buckled and rolled and thousands were tossed from
their feet and still Seth was not done. Just when everyone thought the end had
come, a great blast of wicked green fire, a wall of evil inferno, blasted forth
from Seth’s palms, roaring out in an expanding wave before him. Those who had
somehow been spared by the great chasm or the deathly wind were now set ablaze
by magical fire. Smoke and the scent of burnt flesh and hair filled the air as
those set afire screamed their agonizing screams and wandered about blind until
the flames consumed them.
The assault upon Seth had stopped momentarily. Sigrant’s
remaining mages must have begun to second guess themselves. With the sudden
expulsion of power Seth felt nauseated but otherwise unharmed. The forces of
Sigrant were not so lucky. The direct attack from Seth had killed near fifteen
thousand troops. Now, however, the newly formed lake that Garret and the
wolfmen had created was draining into the great chasm caused by Seth’s spell.
The sudden drop in the lake’s water level caused the ice upon the surface to
begin breaking and pieces were beginning to buckle and heave, sending yet more
of the invading forces to their graves.
Those swept beneath the ice either drowned or were crushed
by the great sheets of frozen water. Those who managed to survive that, were
swept over a great waterfall that plummeted into unknown depths beneath the
world’s surface, never to be heard from again. Sigrant’s ice mages began
working immediately to repair the damage lest the entire army be lost. A moment
later, against their better judgment, the remaining battle mages under order of
the invading king began their assault on Seth anew. This time Seth let the
attacks come. He watched with his vision of the gods and estimated that in his
retaliation he had managed to destroy more than sixty of the opposing mages.
Minute after minute the barrage of magical attacks came and Seth consumed each
and every one.
Though the opposing sides continued to fight on some fronts,
the vast majority stood immobile, waiting to see the outcome of this epic
battle of magic. Valdadore’s mages replied by hurling fire at the attacking
magicians but so few were the former’s numbers now that they had little effect.
Seth waited as his power reserves grew and, once again, as he felt the power
becoming too much to contain, he focused himself.
Spreading his arms above his head, the black-robed death
mage raised his palms to the heavens. He was so consumed by the power within
him, and concentrating with his vision of the gods on targeting those who
opposed him, that Seth never even saw it coming. Though awash in magical
ballista of every shape and form, Seth had mastered the art of absorbing the
power without harm. Through the magic, however, came a physical attack that he
had not anticipated. Not once upon this field of battle had a war machine been
seen. Nor had there been any evidence that King Sigrant’s rear lines had
finally caught up with the rest of his force. Yet through the magical onslaught
a single ballista bolt near eight feet in length arced down out of the sky
catching Seth full in the chest.
The moment seemed to slow to a lurch as Seth was driven over
backwards slightly before suddenly stopping. He was completely off balance and
yet something held him up from behind. Looking down, a full foot of shaft still
penetrated his chest and Seth realized that the bolt had gone clean through
him. Leaning him over backwards precariously, the bolt had become lodged in the
ground, effectively propping the death mage upon his feet for all to see. The
whole of the battlefield sighed. A great howling sound arose as if the world
cried. As Seth’s vision began to blur, Sara leapt from those nearest him,
stripping off her helm in the full light of day. Everything went dark.
*****
Sara landed between two of Sigrant’s troops whom she thought
to be officers. They both wore full armor and carried the emblem of the skull
upon their chests. Each of them shouted orders even now as Sara dropped from
the heavens between them. Twisting as she landed she reached out to each side
with an enchanted blade designed to siphon life, and twirling she rose from her
crouched position.
Both officers had registered her now and fear showed plainly
in their eyes. Their hearts began to race and Sara smiled wickedly beneath her
helm. Her entire suit of armor dripped with blood, both inside and out, and the
princess could not have been more comfortable.
Sara leapt at the officer to her left without warning and
wrapping her legs about his face she drove the large man to the ground. Then,
without a second’s hesitation, she thrust not one but both blades down through
the top of his skull. Wrenching them apart to either side she destroyed her foe
as a trickle of life joined with her own.
Without so much as looking for the other officer, Sara leapt
backwards, somersaulting through the air. Before landing she twisted with the
grace of a feline and landed lightly in a crouch not a pace in front of her
foe. He raised his sword to strike her, thinking he had the upper hand.