Wielder of the Flame (60 page)

Sesuadra did not answer.

The men from the tent appeared, all mounted on aldoms.

“Follow me,” the bearded man said.

And they took off.

They descended the hill at a moderate pace, being forced to
slow down as they followed the path around the defenses. After passing through
the pikes, wooden stakes, and trenches, they broke out into a gallop, the
aldoms’ tails swishing back and forth sporadically at the quickened pace.

The soldiers manning the siege weapons looked on in
curiosity as the small company of mounted cavalry ran by, two of which were
young men dressed in decorated armor not of their city.

“All is well!” Sesuadra cried as they passed through the
ranks. “Exalted keep you! Continue the good fight!”

Finally they began to arrive at the battle scene.

In the distance the fog hung in the air like a giant, high
wall. Separate squadrons of troops stood at random intervals near the fog in
defensive positions, their weapons drawn, ready for any attack. The empty
spaces between the groupings of soldiers Sesuadra assumed were the squads that
were currently in the fog, fighting. Flaming projectiles soared over them,
burning small paths of visibility through the dense fog. Muted blasts of red
and orange lit the interior of the mist as the projectiles landed with distant
thundering booms. 

A line of soldiers were coming up the path Sesuadra, Puck
and the others were going down. The soldiers looked beaten and weary.

Sesuadra pulled Brighteyes to a stop.

“What is going on here?”

Most of them looked away.

A particularly worn-out soldier said, “We are tired, and
hungry, and the sorceress has reappeared. We are no match for her dark
enchantments, let alone this awful evil! There is not even a commander here to
lead us!”

There was an explosion of purple light inside the mist
followed by the screams of dying men.

“What was that?” Puck asked.

“The sorceress,” The bearded man said.

Sesuadra could see the men quickly losing their will to
fight, some having already given up hope.

“I am your new commander!” Sesuadra said, his voice filled
with authority, despite his young age.

The soldiers looked up in surprise.

“I am Sesuadra, Jidan of Kolima, Advocate of the Flame, and
Runemaster.”

He brought his arm up and a symbol glowed again on his hand.
He quickly pressed it into the air, allowing the burning magic to hover there
for an instant. Then he lifted his arm and brought it down in a swift vertical
arc. As his hand came near the bottom of the movement an invisible shockwave
went out, with Sesuadra at its origin. Some of the footsoldiers fell back at
the force, one landing on his back.

“Those lights coming from Sulendald, they are the same that
appeared in Kolima, The Wielder of the Flame is there, fighting the enemy, and
it is your duty,
our
duty, to help him.”

The soldiers were nodding, immediate respect coming from
their changed perception of Sesuadra.

“Now return to the fight! Follow us!”

Sesuadra turned to the bearded man, “run down the line of
men, tell them to gather to me.”

“How will they know who to gather to? None of them know
you.”

“They will know soon enough.”

Sesuadra motioned for Puck to follow him and then steered
Syril to the frontlines.

The troops watched as the two young strangers arrived to
stand with them directly in front of the mist.

“What are you going to do?” Puck asked.

Sesuadra nodded his head to the fog as if to say
just
watch.

He dismounted and stepped to where he was half in the fog.

Sesuadra closed his eyes, slowing his breathing. He chanted
a calming mantra in his head.
There is no fear, there is only light. Where
there is light, there is hope. Guide me, Uleahkyn, Lady of the Sea.

He summoned a great power within him and began to call the
runes to work his magic. A symbol appeared on his right palm and he placed it
in the air before him, then another appeared on his left immediately after and
he placed that in the air in front of him, before the first could fade away. He
moved swiftly, placing rune after rune in the air.

Finally, with all the runes he wished, in place, he opened
his eyes. He brought both arms to his side, elbows pointed behind him, fists
pointed forward, arms bent at a ninety degree angle, then, in a swift motion he
pushed both arms straight out in front of him and let out a shout.

A great wind rushed through the ranks, cloaks and hair
billowing in its wake.

Suddenly the fog began to push backwards.

Slowly at first, then gradually picking up speed.

Sesuadra’s entire body was taut with exertion.

Puck watched in awe at the amazing feat of magic.

As the fog lifted, pushing back, the mysteriousness of the
battlefield faded. Things came into view one by one. A body here, a body there.
Broken shield. Sword stabbed into the ground.

Puck glanced behind them and saw the entirety of the
remaining Sulendald army rallying behind Sesuadra.

Then the monsters came into view. They were more gruesome in
real life than compared to the ones Sesuadra and Puck had seen in the Oracle’s
vision. The grayish green rotting skin things huddled in large droves, ready to
attack at the first thing to fall into their line of sight. As the fog moved
the things were able to see the long line of soldiers facing them and the
undead began to move against their now visible enemy. But Sesuadra did not
cease there. He summoned more and more wind, the air now a blustering gale of
sound and power. The sun blazed upon the monsters as it cleared the dense fog
and they let out long guttural groans like complaints. A few of the weaker
looking undead toppled over at the wind pushing against them, and the others
moved sluggishly against it. Sesuadra let out another shout of exertion and
pushed the fog further and quicker away from them.

They could see the river then, and in the distance, near one
of the banks of the river on the same side as them, a giant tent had been set
up and a young woman stood in front of it. Several dead soldiers lay at her
feet and the undead were feasting upon some of them.

“Found you,” Sesuadra whispered.

Finally, with the fog pushed as far away as the river,
Sesuadra let the wind go and it ceased as suddenly as it begun. The monsters
began to shamble forward freely.

Sesuadra turned to the men and mounted back up on
Brighteyes.

“Great achievement is born only of great sacrifice!”
Sesuadra shouted, “It is never the result of selfishness. We fight not for
ourselves, we fight for women, for children, for those who cannot. We fight
because we can, we fight because we must!”

Sesuadra raised his curved blade and pointed at the
shambling corpses rushing upwards to meet them.

“For Sulendald!”

He roared and spurred his aldom forward.

The resounding battle cry from the troops was almost
deafening, a crashing, booming shout “FOR SULENDALD!”

It was in that instant that a bright light, even brighter
than before, shone in Sulendald near the heart of the city, burning a vast
majority of the fog away.

The bright blue light emanating from
the Oracle’s pillar of light behind Zildjin flashed a brilliant white and then
darkened.

The room darkened significantly in turn, but Zildjin’s eyes
quickly adjusted.

Drake did not finish his attack, the sword and his arms were
stopped in mid-descent.

Zildjin looked up at his countenance, seeing if he had
reverted back to the other Drake, the one they knew, but it was still the face
of darkness.

He seemed to be struggling against some invisible force.

“Zildjin!”

Zildjin recognized the voice.

It was the Oracle. But her voice did not flow through his
mind, he heard it with his ears.

He glanced behind him in surprise.

She had left the pillar of light and knelt, naked, on the
floor. Her arms were outstretched, her hands open, her fingers rigid.

“Quickly Zildjin! Finish him! I do not know how long I can
hold him!”

“NO!” Drake hissed. The invisible magic Sylandria was
wielding, held him in place but Drake was clearly fighting against it. He
trembled and began to turn red with exertion, sweat breaking out on his
forehead.

There was a flicker and the Drake they knew resurfaced.

“Please,” he said, “Just end it, please.”

The darkness returned within a heartbeat.

“NO!” Drake struggled, “I am the Destroyer of Worlds!”

Zildjin stepped forward and with a mighty yank, tore off the
rest of the breastplate. It clattered to the floor.

There was a flash in the starry sky, an explosion of light.

Zildjin pried his weapon from Drake’s grip.

“Do it,” the old Drake said, and then disappeared again.

“NO!” the dark one cried.

Zildjin placed his sword upon Drake’s chest.

“Exalted keep you, Drake.”

And shoved the blade through his heart.

The darkness faded from his face. His eyes turned from
black, back to their normal color. Then they rolled up into his head and he
closed his eyelids.

Drake fell to the ground, blood pouring from his wound, the
sword protruding from his chest.

Zildjin could see he was dead.

Zildjin heard Sylandria let out a sound of relief and a soft
thump as she let her magic free and collapsed to the ground.

Zildjin withdrew the blade and wiped it clean. He slipped
the sword underneath his belt, being careful not to cut anything.

 “It is over,” she said.

Zildjin turned and immediately remembered the Oracle was
naked. The blue light that had surrounded her, visually covering her skin and
hair and body with the same blue color, was now gone. Her skin was extremely
pale, almost white, her hair, also, bordered between light gold and white.

He blushed, despite the circumstances, and walked over to
her, keeping her in his sights but not exactly looking directly at her.

“Oracle,” he said nervously, “Your nakedness.”

“Sylandria,” she replied. “Just call me Sylandria, I am no
longer the Oracle. I forfeited that right the moment I left the pillar of
light.” Her eyes were filled with sadness, and relief. She lay on the ground,
one hand wrapped over her chest, and the other covering down below, her legs
crossed.

Zildjin began to undo the straps of his upper body armor,
shoulder and back plates.

Sylandria looked up at him, confused.

“You can have my tunic, as a covering,” Zildjin said.

There was another flash in the starry sky, brighter this
time. A second one followed it, and another soon after. The fog that acted as
the walls to the room was dissipating into thin air, revealing an inky
blackness beyond.

“It has already begun,” Sylandria said as Zildjin unstrapped
his armor. “Soon this place will fold in on itself and cease to exist,
destroying whatever is present here, in the process.”

“But I thought you said that would only happen if no other
Oracle was chosen?”

One of the stars arced through the sky, leaving a trail of
burning light behind it. It landed far in the distance of the blackness. A deep
boom followed the star’s landing and a small shudder ran through the room,
shaking its occupants slightly.

“There is no Ascendant Sage alive to do the choosing. I am
the last,
was
the last.” She said.

“But the magic you used against him,” Zildjin nodded to the
now still form of Drake, “was that not power granted to you as an Oracle?”

Sylandria shook her head, “It is an ability of my own. It
was the reason I was chosen as Oracle, because I had such a close connection
with magic already.”

“So all your other magic, the ability to foresee the future?”

“It is gone, all of it.”

Zildjin stripped off his tunic, revealing his very well cut
physique. But he was not thinking of it, and neither was she, not after what
had just happened.

He handed her the tunic, keeping his eyes averted.

“Thank you Zildjin,” she quickly slipped it on.

There were more explosions up above and more stars began to
fall from the sky. Booms and quakes began to shake the room in quicker and
quicker succession.

“Please,” she said and he turned to face her again, “You
will have to help me walk, my body is weak and I cannot do it on my own.”

Zildjin nodded and knelt down, putting his arm underneath
her. His hand brushed her chest as he helped her stand, but again, neither of
them thought anything of it.

They began to walk towards the stairs.

Sylandria moved her head in the direction of Cydas.

“You do not want to see—” Zildjin began. He did not want her
last memory of her love to be the sight before them.

“I need to touch his face, one last time, with my own hand.”

The booms began to shake the room more fiercely. Stars
streaked the sky like handfuls of thrown pebbles.

Cracks began to appear in the floor.

They walked over to Cydas’s fallen body.

Zildjin let Sylandria down and moved to withdraw the blade
from his comrade’s neck and throat.

It was stuck into the floor and it took Zildjin three tries
before the floor finally released its grip on the weapon.

Zildijn had to exert quite a bit of force to turn Cydas
over. He got blood all over him, but he hardly even noticed.

Sylandria moved close to Cydas, placing his head in her lap.

Zildjin turned away, giving her a moment alone.

“Cydas, my love,” She whispered, “Ascend to the stars, and
dwell with the Exalted Spirits.”

A giant flaming star passed dangerously close over head. Its
landing created an explosion and thundering boom unlike any of the others. The
room shuddered violently and more cracks appeared like spider-webs across the
floor, some of them large.

“Sylandria, we must go!”

Zildjin moved to help her up.

“We must take his body,” she let out a sob, “We cannot just
leave him here.”

“We have no choice, Sylandria, I am sorry.”

The room began to warp and change in impossible ways. The
sky was lit with burning bright stars, explosive changing nebula and several
planets that were beginning to break apart.

“Carry me,” Sylandria said, “I will use my magic to bring
him with us.”

“And what of Drake?” Zildjin asked.

Sylandria glanced at her lover’s murderer.

Zildjin could read the anger in her eyes and said, “He was
innocent, you know, it was not him that killed Cydas.”

“I know,” she said.

Before they could say anything further, Drake’s body began
to convulse.

“No,” Zidljin whispered, “Impossible.”

A darkness began to seep from his body, gathering into a
misshapen, morphing, flopping partly incorporeal shape of black fog completely
separate from Drake’s body.

Whatever had been inside of Drake was now leaving the
lifeless shell.

“Run,” Sylandria said. “I will hold it back. It
will
die here.” Her voice held a conviction that almost made Zildjin shudder.

 Zildjin did not need to be told twice. He scooped Sylandria
into his arms and began to leap up the stairs as fast as he could.

A giant monstrous figure began to rise from the fog.

Zildjin could see the shadow of the thing growing quickly,
rising as fast as he was taking the steps.

Sylandria moved her hand and whipped open the door at the
top of the steps.

She then turned and brought both hands forward as if
gripping Cydas and Drake.

“Forgive me,” She said, then flung her arms back towards the
hall with a grunt of exertion.

The bodies of both flew through the air unceremoniously,
tumbling and skidding down the hall.

The giant thing let out a roar as its mass and essence were
nearing completion. It was a heart-stopping, blood-chilling, roar of great evil
that echoed and thundered louder than anything Zildjin had ever before heard.

“Do not look back,” Sylandria screamed over the roar, “JUST
RUN!”

Zildjin obeyed her words, knowing that even a glance might
freeze him in his tracks.

Stars from the cosmos passed by its gigantic frame on their
fiery descent.

It brought down a massive arm and taloned hand.

“RUN!” Sylandria cried.

They burst through the doorway into the hall just as the
monster crashed its hand against the already breaking floor. Zildjin stumbled
and almost dropped Sylandria at the substantial tremor.

Why does the hallway have to be so long!
Zildjin
thought as he raced down the corridor.

The creatures hand began to squeeze into the tiny opening,
breaking the walls, ceiling and floor, of the hall just behind them.

Sylandria used her magic again to throw the two dead bodies
further down the hall into the room with the platform. And then turned to focus
her attention on the approaching hand.

She struck with her magic, slapping the hand with gigantic
invisible forces, impeding its progress.

“
The PLATFORM!”
Zildjin said desperately.
“Cydas was the one who operated it, how will we leave now?”

“I will lift us up,” She reassured him.

Zildjin reached the platform and placed Sylandria on its
center.

She continued to hold her hands toward the hall, this time
pushing the monster’s arm back instead of simply slow its progress.

“Quickly, Cydas, and Drake,” she said.

Zildjin could see sweat on her brow and the energy she was
exhausting to save them.

He moved first to Cydas and put his arms underneath the
man’s shoulders to drag him to the platform. Cydas was cold, lifeless, and
heavy. He dragged Cydas onto the platform, also placing him near the center.

Then he ran to Drake and put his arms underneath him.

Drake felt warm to the touch.

Zildjin didn’t think much of it but froze when Drake let out
a groan as he moved.

“Drake is alive!” Zildjin cried.

Sylandria nodded, “Blessed be the Exalted, now hurry!”

Zildjin dragged Drake onto the platform as well.

“Hang in there,” he said, “We are almost out of here.”

There was a monstrous crashing and tearing as a second hand
appeared into the hall and suddenly began to expand the corridor like a massive
curtain being moved to reveal what was behind it onstage.

The planets and stars were exploding and crashing down in
torrents, lighting the entire space with fire. Flaming meteorites collided
against the enormous fiend of blackness, tearing and shredding at its form.

Zildjin fell back at the sight, terror gripping his heart.
His nose began to bleed at the sheer terrible might before him.

It moved forward, trying to fit its immense head through the
small space.

“You
will
die here,” Sylandria whispered.

She let out a shout of power and brought one hand up, facing
the monster.

It froze in its tracks, unable to proceed.

More and more stars descended upon it, burning its essence
away. A planet exploded in the distance, sending a shockwave over the thing and
over them. The platform shuddered.

“Sylandria,” Zildjin said, meaning
take us out of here
.

She nodded, struggling against the thing as it tried to
move.

“You
will die here!
” she said louder.

The beast was half enveloped in fire. Stars and debris
continued to reign down upon it. The entire space began to warp and change in
strange ways, just as Sylandria had described it, a place folding in on itself.

She brought up her other hand and with her palm facing
downward she gripped the platform with her magic, then rotated her still closed
fist to face upwards, then brought her fist up high above her head in a quick
motion. The blue light that activated the platform glowed brightly all
throughout it and it began to rise swiftly.

The last thing Zildjin saw was the colossal fiend being
folded over by an inferno of epic magnitude and a small magical world
collapsing in on itself. The thing let out a final roar and there was a burst
of searing white light, forcing Zildjin to close his eyes and fall back, his
hands in front of his face. A final shockwave rattled the platform, and then
all was silent. Zildjin blinked and blinked, finally recovering his sight in
time to see Sylandria slump to her knees, her hand still lifted upwards.

Drake was convulsing slightly and Zildjin rushed over to
him.

He tore open the young man’s shirt too see how bad the cut
was, it should have been fatal, but instead of a freshly opened wound, a raw
scar lay across his chest.

Drake would be okay, for the most part.

He turned his attention to Sylandria.

“Sylandria?” Zildjin said in concern.

“We will make it,” She replied tiredly, “We will make it.”

He walked over and sat down next to her wavering form.