Wielder of the Flame (62 page)

“Ready!” He shouted above the fire’s roar and the guttural
groans of the undead.

She nodded her head.

As Marc completed another circuit he looked for a bent over
or kneeling zombie to use as a stool. He saw one that was hunched over, about
to go for Laura’s legs and he jumped up on it with one leg and shoved off it,
aiming for a slightly higher zombie with his other leg. Then, with a mighty
force he leapt into the air.

“NOW!” He yelled and he suddenly felt himself disappear.

Laura pulled him upwards through a long tunnel of magic to
exit a far portal.

The next instant Marc reappeared with Laura at his side.
Just as he had asked, they were far up into the sky. Marc looked down and could
see the entire valley below them, the city and the river and the clumping of
trees like splashes of dark green here and there. The fog still blanketed much
of the surrounding area, mostly in the vicinity of the Wildlands. He saw near
the river moving figures, like little ants, but he knew they must be people.
Then they both began to fall downwards. A sense of vertigo surged through him
at the sensation of freefall but he knew he couldn’t let it overpower him. He
knew Laura was there and would be able to take them back to the ground safely.

He hoped.

As long as she had the strength left.

“Now,” Laura said.

Marc closed his eyes for a moment, gathering energy. He
summoned everything that was left from his armor’s absorption, and then moved
on to the very inner reaches of his self, willing whatever he could. The fire
on the blade grew, as well as the golden aura around him. The flames began to
move upward. Pillars of fire began to emerge, twisting and stretching, like
miniature burning tornadoes. They pulled back into one another, crackling and
roaring. Slowly a giant sphere began to emerge.

The valley was beginning to get larger. Marc felt an immense
heat begin to surround them, not coming from the magic and Marc recalled fire
erupting across objects entering and descending into the atmosphere of his
world and imagined some sort of similar law of physics played its role here.
Instead of let the heat harm them Marc willed the Tarenium to absorb the energy
being created, hoping it would work.

It did.

Marc could feel the heat mostly dissipate and enter through
his armor to fuel the magic of the Phoenix Blade.

Marc looked up and saw the giant ball of fire above him.

This should do it
. He said. His nose was till
bleeding and he was tired, it would have to be enough.

He moved his arms and felt the sword weigh much more than it
had before. He had to exert a great amount of force to move the sword, like
moving underwater with weights tied to his arms. Finally the giant burning
sphere moved and as it did so Marc felt prompted to speak and shouted,

“PHOENIX INFERNO!”

As his voice finished the phrase the giant blazing globe of
fire shot from the blade, traveling downwards towards the city.

“Now,” Marc said, his entire being exhausted to his core.

And Laura nodded and they disappeared.

They were traveling through another tunnel of spiraling
magic when suddenly a violent explosion rocked the tunnel and flung Laura and Marc
out of the unseen path.

Marc suddenly felt himself flying sideways over a grassy
field. He saw flashes of armored men, aldoms, headless undead corpses as he
sailed through the air, and then he hit the ground, rolling over and over and
over.

And then all was black.

The Final Battle

Sesuadra was the first to meet the
enemy on the battlefield.

He brought his curved sword upwards, cutting an enemy
through the already half broken skull. Gore and rotted flecks of skin sprayed
Sesuadra and his steed.

Sesuadra’s palms glowed with runes and he cast enchantments
at the same time as he swung his sword. Blue and white blasts of icy cold
exploded around him as he shot his magic forth.

Puck had formed a thin and long blade with his artifact and
was swinging it as well, lobbing off the heads of two of the monsters
simultaneously. He hacked left and right, trying to glance up to see how
Sesuadra was doing. But within moments Puck lost sight of his friend in the
midst of the battle.

The thunder of boots against the ground and the shouting and
sound of steel against rotted flesh was so thunderous Puck could feel the
vibrations of it all in his muscles. He could feel the battlefire coursing
through his blood, fueling him with a strength he never knew he had. He swung left,
then right, then left, then right, hacking away at the relentless undead. Arms
and hands flew through the air, gore and decay trailing behind each lopped off
appendage, but the things would only truly stop if their heads were taken from
their bodies.

Suddenly, a larger of the things dove towards Puck, falling
short, but crashing into his steed. Tandur let out a screech and tumbled over.
Puck flipped in the air, rolling over and over until he stopped against a trio
of undead. Tandur screeched again, battling against the large attacking
monster.

The three undead roared guttural nonsensical things and
jumped at Puck. The Shifter brought up his weapon in time to skewer one of
them. The other two flailed at him but Puck used the one stuck to his sword as
a shield. Three more undead appeared behind him. Puck acted in an instant,
shifting his weapon and duplicating it in two. There was a flash of red and
orange as the metal morphed into a second blade and Puck swung it, decapitating
the three undead. Puck drew his sword from the monster in front of him, having
to place one foot on its chest to do so, then cut down the remaining two
enemies before him.

Tandur screeched again.

He had to get back to his aldom.

He focused again and elongated the two thin blades, then
superheated them. The undead shambled towards him. Just before they were to
overtake him, he began to spin in a circle. The hot blades cut through the
undead like butter and the air was filled with flying appendages once more.

But the enemy continued forward, relentless. Where one fell,
three appeared to fill its place.

Puck clasped the two blades together at the base, forming a
single long pole with two superheated blades at each end. Puck pushed onward,
trying to find his steed, using his newly formed weapon with deadly efficiency
against the mostly defenseless, rotted flesh of his opponents.

Finally he reached the aldom. It stood victorious over the
large undead, the monstrous thing’s head had been viciously stabbed by the aldom’s
deadly beak.

“Good boy,” Puck said, then leapt up back in the saddle,
“Now, let us return to the fray!”

Tandur squawked approvingly.

Sesuadra charged straight towards
the young sorceress, only hewing down the undead that bothered to get in the way.

The sorceress saw the approaching swordsmen and immediately
began to dance.

Sesuadra quickly recognized her motions from a text he had
read on different forms of magic, and knew she was a Dancer of the Veil. It was
a tricky school of magic to master, but powerful when done well, and as he
approached, Syril galloping through the undead, he could sense that she was
powerful.

But he had his own power as well.

She was moving slowly at first, taking a graceful turn here,
and a bow there, but then suddenly she pointed at Sesuadra and a purple light
flashed from her hand.

Sesuadra only had an instant to react, but he dove out of
the saddle just as a purple iridescent blade made up purely of magic soared
passed where his head had been.

He rolled on the ground, using the momentum to spin and land
up on his feet, his hands glowing with runes.

He pressed his hands to the ground and two shockwaves shot
forward at the sorceress, powerful chunks of rock and stones hurling upwards at
her.

She moved, dancing away from the attack, and throwing more
magical blades at Sesuadra. He dodged them but they exploded on the ground upon
impact, sending sparks that made him cover his face for a brief moment.

The second he lowered his arm another purple blade flew at
him and he ducked, but not quickly enough.

The blade struck him in the shoulder, exploding, ripping his
shoulder plate off, and throwing him to the ground. He glanced up to see more
purple flashes of light as the sorceress continued to dance. Sesuadra let his
hands flare with runes and he pressed them into the ground again, this time
shooting a barricade of earth up in front of him to take the explosions for
him. Dirt and small stones pelted him as the blasts shook the temporary wall.

I need to close the distance between us!
Sesuadra
thought.

He willed two more runes on his hands and created a thick
magical shield of ice that hovered in front of him. He stepped out from behind
the dirt barrier, letting it tumble back to the ground. The sorceress shot more
blades at him. The first few exploded against the shield, cracking and melting
part of it, but it held. Sesuadra charged forward. Two more explosions and the
ice shield shattered. Sesuadra was almost to her and made another quick shield
to block another purple blade.

Finally the distance between them was closed and he raised
his scimitar and took a swing at her.

She ducked with a swift agility and turned the movement into
a dance. She drew a small dagger out and Sesuadra almost smirked at the action
but knew she would do something magical with it.

Sure enough she made the small dagger flare with purple
light and a large magical blade of the same colored light transformed the small
dagger into a much larger sword.

She blocked Sesuadra’s strikes with the magical sword. Sparks
flew as the weapons clashed, hers a more purple hue.

“How many have you killed!” Sesuadra said as they exchanged
attacks.

“Plenty!” She retorted.

“And did all of your victims have a weapon in their hand
when you cut them down?”

She realized at that moment who Sesuadra was, recognizing
his face under the helmet.

“You!” She said, “You were in Kolima!” she yelled furiously.
She strengthened her attack against him, forcing him to move to the defensive
and retreat a few steps.

“How did you know that?” Sesuadra asked, incredulously.

“Your friend killed my master!”

Sesuadra had no idea what she was talking about.

“What lies you spew,” Sesuadra finally said, swinging his
scimitar low, trying to get an attack in. “Do not try and get into my head,
confusing me with your tricks, sorceress. I am a wielder of magic myself, and
am not so easily befuddled!”

“I watched as your friend murdered my mentor on the night of
The Gathering, and then you helped drag him to a dark alley and left him there
like some unimportant wretch!”

Images of the Gathering came into Sesuadra’s head as she
spoke.

Then he realized she was talking of Cydas saving Marc from
Safral, the seemingly good-willed Overseer’s Hand turned traitor.

“Safral was your master? That explains his death then. For
darkness is weakness and any who follow the Archfiend walks only a path of
their own destruction.”

“Silence, wyrm waste!” She screamed and launched forward,
driving her magical blade at his heart.

Sesuadra parried the attack and brought his fist around to
punch her in the face. But it was not a normal punch, he let a rune flare on
his palm and a giant ice fist formed around his hand as he struck her face.

She fell back, blood flying from her nose and mouth.

The purple sword in her hand flashed and disappeared,
reverting back to the small dagger.

She immediately looked back at him, her eyes wide with fury.

She screamed and dove at him, tackling him to the ground.
She grabbed at his helmet, trying to rip it off. He punched at her, letting the
blood from her nose flow more freely. He felt her hand clench down on his face
through the open space in his helmet and she began to press down into one of
his eyes and he screamed at the sudden pressure and fear of possibly losing one
of his senses.

He brought his blade to bear, scraping it against her
leather armored torso. Marad’s enhanced blade bit through the armor and cut her
skin.

She screamed, this time in pain, and fell back.

She knew she would be unable to win against the young man
without her magic and spun on the ground, rolling to her knees and then up to
her feet, away from him.

Sesuadra stood as quickly as he could, but the sorceress was
already moving, dancing.

Sesuadra recognized the move and willed a rune to his hand.

There was a sudden rush of wind and she slapped her hand on
the ground. A small shockwave burst outwards, with her at its center. And
Sesuadra flew back from the movement.

He watched as she disappeared.

Suddenly his armor was ripping off of him, flying into the
air.

He pressed the rune into the air, activating its magic.

Just at the exact moment as the sorceress was going to bury
her blade into his heart he entered the magical realm she was in and fell to
the ground.

She was surprised to see him counteract her most powerful
enchantment and was not quick enough to move as he kicked her legs out from
underneath her.

“You foolish woman! I already told you that I am a wielder
of magic too! To think to yourself that your powers supersede my knowledge is
your mistake!”

She dove at him, furious at his words, bringing her dagger
forward.

He knocked her on the side of the head with the flat side of
the blade of his scimitar.

She stumbled to the ground, lying on her back.

Sesuadra pounced on her, pinning her arms with his knees,
and bringing his scimitar to her throat.

“Denounce the Archfiend and I will spare your life,” He
said.

“NEVER!” She cried.

Sesuadra froze.

He did not know if he could take another human life, however
misguided or depraved.

But he didn’t have to.

In the next instant a giant flaming sphere began to appear
in the sky, closer than the sun. Its light illuminated the valley with an
intense brightness.

The sorceress shut her eyes.

Sesuadra looked up, bringing his free hand up to shield his
eyes.

“Marcus!” Sesuadra whispered.

The sorceress took the opportunity to kick her opponent off
of her.

Sesuadra tumbled to the ground.

The sorceress ran off, disappearing into the mass of undead
who were unconcerned with the sudden appearance of the flaming globe in the
sky.

Sesuadra cursed himself for his carelessness and picked
himself up.

“It must be Marcus,” Sesuadra whispered, “But what is he
doing?”

Unless it is Belator.
He thought. But for some reason
he knew it was Marc.

“Sesuadra!” Puck appeared by Sesuadra’s side.

“Do you think that is the Wielder of the Flame?”

Sesuadra nodded.

“You do not think he will fire that at the city. He must
know we are just across the river.”

“I think he has taken that into account,” Sesuadra said, “at
least I hope so.”

Suddenly the giant sphere began to plummet downward, towards
Sulendald.

“Hold on to something!” Puck said.

Sesuadra ran to the edge of the river, his hands glowing
brightly with runes.

“What are you doing!?” Puck cried.

Sesuadra began to wade into the river. He went until he was
about waist deep before plunging his hands into the water.

As Sesuadra lifted his hands out of the water the water of
the river began to ascend in a giant wall of ice.

A group of undead began to shamble toward Sesuadra.

Puck rushed over to defend his friend. He cut down the
monsters quickly, though it seemed they were not going to get into the water
anyway.

Puck watched in amazement at his friend’s mastery of magic.
He shifted the artifact from a weapon and changed it into a sort of personal
wall. He waded into the water as well, bringing the metal barricade with him.

He positioned the small metal barrier between the city and
him and Sesuadra.

The soldiers near the river bank watched in wonder at the
young sorcerer’s amazing magical ability.

“The fire is about to hit the city!” Puck exclaimed, warning
his friend.

The ice wall stopped rising.

“That is the best I can do,” Sesuadra said, and looked as if
he would fall backwards into the water.

Puck grabbed him, putting an arm underneath him.

Then there was a boom, more thunderous than Puck had ever
heard or experienced. He felt the vibrations shake his entire being down to his
bones.

Then the bright light expanded, the shockwave from the detonation
of the magical flaming sphere, and rushed towards the ice wall Sesuadra had
constructed. There was a giant crack as the fire hit the ice, and the ice
melted almost instantly, but protected most of the soldiers from the initial
blast.

Sesuadra had helped save them from potential danger.

The water was pushed downward into a massive wave.

Now it was Puck’s turn. He pressed his free hand against the
metal barrier and made it hold against the crashing wave. The water swelled and
pushed but the small barricade held. After the river returned to its previous
height he dragged Sesuadra to the bank and collapsed next to him.