The Elf King (29 page)

“
I have no weapon,
sorcerer!” Tane shot back in frustration.

Shadox turned to him,
pulling his hood over his head, masking his face in shadow,
growling sternly. “Stand by your steed. Don’t move.”

Tane did as he was told. He
watched as the sorcerer knelt down in the dirt, palms flat against
the ground, eyes closed in concentration. He couldn’t hear what the
sorcerer was whispering, but it wasn’t much. Seconds later, Shadox
rose to his feet and walked over to him, whispering again, rubbing
his hands against Tane’s face.

“
They will sense you, but
will only see a tree.” Shadox withdrew his hands, then stepped
further away, turning towards the trees.

Tane held his breath. The
look Shadox was carrying was enough to weaken his knees. He stared
towards the woods. His body turned colder, bumps pricking his skin
the length of his muscled frame. From what he saw of himself, he
didn’t think the sorcerer’s disguise would work. He could clearly
see himself as he was; he looked nothing like a tree. He swallowed
hard.
I hope you know what you’re
doing.

“
Stand firm!”

From out of the tree-line,
a formation of black images began to appear, moving slowly,
separating in to groups of two, stalking like predators. One group
moved along the north side of the pond, the other heading down the
south bank. They would trap Shadox and Tane in the middle; there
would be no escape. Shadox held his ground, Tane stood motionless.
Groans of unthinkable pain escaped from the depths of the monsters
closing in, shrieks howled, destroying the eerie
calmness.

Then suddenly white fire
shot from Shadox’s extended fingers, shattering any stillness
lingering, engulfing the first swarm directly ahead, smothering
them in a ball of white light that sizzled with the sound of
burning flesh. Immediately the other
Takers
across the pond attacked, red
fire searing past him, some absorbing into his protective shield,
knocking him from his stance. A few of them entered the water,
disappearing into its depths in an attempt to cross. Shadox sent
his white fire into the clear water, boiling it, the demons burning
in it as they drown in vain. The others circled around the pond
rapidly. He turned to face them quickly, white light searing in
long intervals from his fingers, smashing into the demons as they
rounded the end of the pond and closed in on him.

Tane stood helpless,
listening to the sounds of the magic flying out of Shadox’s hands,
the groaning he exerted during each round, and grimacing at the
screams the demons made once his magic hit their target. He was too
scared now to move at all. He focused solely on trying to keep his
heart at a steady rhythm, and his feet from doing what all logic
told them to do. He held his ground, the battle in front of him
less than ten yards away.

Then Shadox bolted.
Sprinting towards the first wave of
Takers
, his white magic hummed as he
continued his assault without mercy, sending his fire into their
black robes, holding them as they tried to fight past. Their
screams were shrill and terrifying. Painfully endless. Shadox was
less than five feet away from the monsters when they began smoking,
their cloaks searing from the heat, the white magic wrapped around
all that they were-inside and out. Still he poured it to them. His
face glowed from the reflection.

Then they
exploded.

Ash and smoking cloth blew
skyward in a volcanic eruption. Their soot rained down on their
destroyer, who instantly turned away and raced toward the other end
of the pond where a group of
Takers
were howling in their advance, their hatred
spewing out of their open maws, their anger escalating even
more-so.

Tane saw the look in the
eyes of the sorcerer as he raced past, and felt his knees
buckle.

Shadox screamed in
vengeance, a loud demanding yell that threatened the lives of those
who sought to intrude. But the
Takers
would not turn away. They
couldn’t. Their hatred was such that they lived solely to destroy;
they could not sense a collapse in victory. They would kill or be
killed. Nothing else made sense.

Then a shockwave exploded
through the air, the wind blowing Tane’s hair, taking the air from
his lungs. He nearly toppled over. He turned impulsively. What he
saw then was a struggle between Shadox and his attackers. A screen
of red magic was walled away by a shield of white fire as each sent
their powers into the others. But as the white fire was strong, it
was wielded by only one master. The red fire, however, had twelve
hands it drew from as six
Takers
held their ground, gaining slowly on the
sorcerer, bending their magic in a wall to surround him. Shadox’s
hands moved with the advance, long arms extended, muscles straining
with usage. Within a few minutes, they had circled him
completely.

Tane could barely see
Shadox within the ring of flames, his white fire splashing in the
enclosing red wall. Tane panicked.
If
something were to happen to Shadox now...
He held his thought, though his heart pounded as if trapped
and desperately needed to be free. He needed to do something. He
had to help in some way. But he was helpless. He couldn’t even
think of a weapon that could help him. The Andelline sword, he
thought bleakly. If he only had it now.

Shadox dug deep, reaching
down into himself, his determination was too strong for him to give
in, too strong to be held the way he was. He began to turn his
body, his arms still at length, his magic spewing continuously out.
They would wear him out, he thought. They would drain him, and
then
take
him. He
screamed in defiance. He would not let that happen.

Still the
Takers
closed in. Their
circle tightening. Their magic folding downward. Already the white
fire was lost to Tane. Black robes and red fire was all he could
see. For all he knew, the sorcerer was lost. For all he felt, so
was he.

His panic breathed life
then, and he did was he was told not to do. He began yelling, just
screams at first, short and uncertain, then long and demanding
attention. He had no plan, just a distraction. Just enough for them
to lose concentration and turn their focus, just enough to give
Shadox some air.

It worked.

At once he watched the six
heads turn and stare in his direction. His mouth closed
immediately. He second-guessed his actions right away, feeling a
sinking pit in his stomach start to swirl. They were staring at him
as if they could see him. For all he knew, they could. He could see
himself for that matter. Maybe the sorcerer’s magic was drained
enough that his protective illusion had failed. If Shadox couldn’t
protect himself...

Two of the
Takers
began to walk
towards him. Their faces black beneath their cowls, hidden in
shadow as dark as their souls. With no deviation in their course,
they headed towards Tane with certainty. Tane held his ground, his
inner voice screaming for him to flee, to do anything but just
stand there and hope for the best. Then off behind them, he saw two
more detach themselves from the fight and head for him. Beyond, a
red ball of light smothered the ground as the last two
Takers
poured their
magic in a steady stream. Shadox was nowhere.

Tane bolted.

He gave way to his
instincts, acting on the impulses racking his body with fear and
self-preservation. As he did so, all the
Takers
howled a new sound, one of
delight and victory. With all six in pursuit, Tane screamed a
battle cry and ran. With the
Takers
leaving to peruse him, he could see the
sorcerer’s form slumped against the grass, a charred circle burning
around him. He began yelling his name, not knowing if Shadox was
alive or not.

He turned then, looking
forward to the trees, hoping to gain enough ground that he could
circle back and rein a horse, pick up his fallen companion and
flee. As Tane ran, his thoughts stayed on the notion that he needed
that sword. It was calling to him, he could sense it, he could see
it, almost feel it in his hands. But then red fire was exploding at
the trees near him and all he thought was:
stay alive!

Tane entered the small
cropping of trees and realized that they were too thin to hide him.
He ran in a sporadic race, hoping to throw off the red magic sent
to destroy him. Trees burst into flames everywhere around him. He
dared not to look back. He didn’t want to see the inevitable. He
reached the end of the thicket and turned sharply back, skirting
the tree-line in a frantic pace to reach the horses. Twice he
looked into the woods and saw black shadows weaving their way
around the burning trunks. Black smoke began to billow skyward in a
funnel. Death was all around him.

As he cleared the trees
completely, and the pond was ahead once again, Tane looked forward
and nearly stopped in his tracks. A single figure stood in his way,
black and smoking, arms raised, leveling towards him. Tane
swallowed hard. It was over.

Suddenly white fire burst.
Tane yelled as Shadox’s magic seared past him on both sides.
Screamed again as he looked back to see clawed hands swiping out at
him just as the magic slammed them back into the dirt.

“
Take cover,” coughed
Shadox. His face was a mask of burnt ash, his clothes smoking
still.

Tane did as he was told,
running back to mount his horse, ready this time for escape. He
turned back in time to see Shadox turn three of the
Takers
into ash. Then
one by one, the rest of the demons emerged from the trees and were
met by the maddened sorcerer, who left them little time to counter.
Within a few moments, Tane watched the smoking figure decimate them
all in a shower of burning debris.

When he was through, and
none were left to fight, Shadox dropped to his knees, head slumped
down, face hidden beneath the singed cowl. Tane reined the horse,
bringing them both towards the exhausted sorcerer. But not in
time.

Surging from the pond in
blurry movements, a
Taker
emerged and was on top of Shadox before he even
had a chance to look up. Tane screamed, the horses bucking in
response. But he held them course, only to watch the
Taker
smother Shadox to
the ground. It appeared as if the sorcerer had no fight left in
him. White fire lit at Shadox’s fingertips, but no flare. Tane saw
the
Taker
push
itself into Shadox’s body as if it were an open door. The struggle
lasted a few moments, the sorcerer’s body convulsing wildly,
angrily, as the new poison clashed with his own life source for a
struggle of control. As Tane reached his side, the
Taker
was all but
disappeared, only its cloak tail and its feet were still
visible.

Tane jumped off his horse,
screaming as if it were his only weapon.

Shadox’s body emitted a
white glow. Then suddenly, it disintegrated. The body trying to
enter his was destroyed in a gulf of flames, smoking ash flying
several yards in all directions. The shockwave knocked Tane off his
feet, staggering backward on his heels until he fell. Scrambling to
his feet, he saw Shadox’s body slump forward. He lay motionless,
face first in the dirt. Tane raced to his side.

“
Shadox!” Tane looked at
his face and felt his heart melt. It was black, some areas of skin
were still smoking. His cloak sizzled with heat, edges frayed and
burnt to a crisp.

Shadox’s eyes were
bloodshot and barely open, his skin pale and cold. He was weak and
shaky, his pulse thready. He had used all his energy to destroy
the
Taker
entering his body. He had to go deep within his core where
the evil was already taking root, spreading through his system
rapidly. He had escaped within himself, balling all the power that
was left for him to command, sending it out through is body in one
concentration. It was the only way to extract the evil, only way to
make sure it did not take over. The consequences were high, nearly
fatal.

“
I’ve got to get you help!
You’re dying!”

Shadox coughed, spitting
blood. “Help me stand.”

Tane did so immediately,
propping his body up against a horse. “You need water. Hang
on.”

Tane led him over to the
pond, scooping a handful of water into the other’s mouth, letting
him drink slowly. His lips looked burnt; his face too painful to
stare at. He gave the sorcerer water until he couldn’t drink any
longer. His normally tan complexion was white still, though it
seemed as if his body had calmed. Shadox spoke, soft and inaudible.
Tane tried to get him to speak louder, and when Shadox did so, all
he caught was “horse”. Tane half carried, half dragged the sorcerer
back to his horse, Shadox offering no resistance. With much help
from Tane, the wounded sorcerer mounted the horse and collapsed,
clinging to the reins.

“
I’ve got to get you to a
doctor.”

Shadox leaned in close to
the horses head and began whispering. Tane took notice, moving in
close enough to pick out a few words, knowing them to be a
different language. When the sorcerer was finished, he turned to
Tane. His voice was raspy; his breathing ragged and labored,
eyelids heavy over his glossy eyes.