The Keystaff Chronicles - Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Luthien looked from the old elven women to the bewildered elves milling about them, and then at the unspoiled forest all around him. Azarielle and Lucien’s power still hung in the air, so thick that they could choke him if he breathed too deeply. But there were no pillars of black flames scorching the heavens, nor were their unrelenting waves of flesh searing heat pouring over him. The smell of leaves and unidentifiable flowers pervaded the clearing that had, only a moment ago, consumed the clearing.

The young knight opened his mouth to speak but found himself unable to compose even a single string of coherent words. Breaker, who stood behind him, was just as stunned. The gray elf’s normally stoic face had transformed into slack-jawed shock. And when, sensing Luthien’s stare, Breaker turned to him, the elf seemed equally incapable of speech.

“Well now, aren’t any of you youngsters going to greet your elder?” the old elf woman asked in perfect Achiendian. “What is the lot of you doing, staring at me like buffoons for?”

“G… Good day, mist… mistress,” Ofeera was the first amongst the companions to find her voice as she rose unsteadily to her feet, half wondering whether she was hallucinating.

“Ah, a lovely young healer of Abihayil,” the old woman nodded her head at Ofeera, “Why don’t you come over here and tend to this undisciplined little mage friend of yours. She needs a good talking to, that’s what she needs! Using fire… in these old forests! Not only are these young mages severely lacking in skill and control, but they are a disrespectful bunch too! I am going to give her a piece of my mind, I will... and, oh… what are you still doing here?”

The old woman suddenly turned to regard Lucien and the three mages and waved gnarled, stick-like hands at them, “Shoo.”

An invisible force wrapped around the three Dark Empire mages, picked them up, and promptly tossed them out of the forest as if they were nothing more than pebbles. Lucien fared a little better, managing to resist being lifted into the air, but still stumbling backwards until his back hit a tree. The pale-haired prince opened his lips to hurl death at this unexpected enemy, but a sudden wave of malevolent power, so cold that it burned him, rolled over him, pinning him to the spot.

“Little human, it would put me into a foul mood if I couldn’t keep my word to not spill blood in this forest again. You seem quite fond of splitting open flesh, but really, you haven’t mastered that art yet. Shall I show you a new trick or two?”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed as he felt cold fingers wrap around his heart. The old elf woman smiled serenely at him as she beheld him with eyes every bit as merciless as his own. He knew that the old woman, or rather, the creature that dwelled within the old woman, could and would crush his heart and tear him limb from limb.

And he knew too that this was not a foe he could battle in his current state and emerge victorious. The corners of his mouth curved up into a mocking smile as he nodded his head, “It is as you wish, Ancient One.” Then, without another one, he turned around and strode out of the forest.

“Lucien!” Luthien snapped out of his shock when he saw his brother retreating. Drawing his sword from its sheath, the young knight gave chase, only to slam into an invisible barrier and stumble backwards. And then, just as he was once bound by Azarielle, he suddenly found himself unable to move, bound by a power that he could neither see nor break.

“Well, it would seem that the passing of centuries haven’t changed the idiocy of the Knights of Whatever,” the old woman scowled at the breathless young knight. “I told him to shoo, and as you can see, he is shoo-ing. Did I tell you that you can chase after him and be turned into ground human meat? Is that moron, Korbael Thewin’s mental retardation some sort of a curse that passes from generation of idiot knight to generation of idiot knight? It is truly a miracle that your Order hasn’t somehow gotten itself devoured by a dragon or something! Now, be a good little stupid knight and just lay there for a bit alright? When I think you aren’t going to accidentally off yourself somehow, I will let you move.”

With a satisfied humph, the old elven woman turned her attention to Theredoniel. Just like everything else in the forest, the young elf lord was miraculously unharmed, the grievous wound he had received from Luthien having vanished without a trace. Theredoniel knelt on the ground, breathing hard and staring around himself with the look of a man who had just awoken from a terrible nightmare. When he caught sight of the old woman, his eyes widened with alarm and he stumbled back several steps.

“And so, what will you do, little Gwenevar?” the old woman asked, switching to high elven as she stood in front of the young elf.

Theredoniel’s eyes widened in recognition, “You…! Was everything... was it all a dream?”

“What’s a dream, and what’s real… perhaps this is all just another dream,” the old woman shook her head.

Theredoniel turned this way and that to find his wife, and his eyes found Azarielle’s prone form instead. He remembered unleashing the lightning strike against her then, and watching his friend fall. And then, the knight had charged him…

“Where is my wife?” Theredoniel asked, looking away from Azarielle.

“Where faithful followers of the Eternal Father go when their time is accounted for on Faearth, I suppose, or with that malnourished, white-haired human, depending on what you are asking.”

Theredoniel bit back a response and climbed slowly to his feet. Resolutely, he said, “I am leaving. You cannot stop me.”

“Cannot? That is hardly true, little Gwenevar,” the old woman arched an eyebrow at him. “But I won’t. You walk as you will.”

Theredoniel gritted his teeth and turned away, walking out in the direction where Lucien had left, knowing that the pale-haired prince would await him outside the safety of these ancient green boughs. Eowyna would be waiting for him there as well.

“Brother, please don’t!” Ofeera cried out as she ran after him. “My sister is gone, but she is with our Father. Please, she would not wish for you to do this! Neither do I… nor would Azarielle!”

A shimmering shield of lightning sprung up between Ofeera and Theredoniel, halting the young healer in her tracks. With his back turned to her, Theredoniel said, “You are mistaken, Ofeera. Eowyna is just… she’s just unwell. But I will make her better. I am sorry.”

“Theredoniel!” Tears fell from Ofeera’s eyes like pearls from a broken string. She knew that her brother-in-law was deaf to her words just as he had been deaf to Azarielle’s words.

* * * * *

Azarielle was floating above the mouth of a roiling, fiery maelstrom that twisted and churned and sent tongues of hungry red-black flames her way. She could hear a hundred thousand voices howling from within its depth… screaming in despair or singing, she could not tell which. Only moments before, she had been one of those voices.

She remembered being struck by Theredoniel’s lightning, and when the pain of flesh and betrayal had seared her body, she had fallen into the fiery maelstrom of power. As the flames hungrily wrapped around her, her scream had joined the other shrieking voices and discordant, ear-splitting sound had drowned out reason.

The darkness of her own soul had poured out in red-gold flames that reduced everything to ash. She could not see her friends or hear their voices. All that there were, all that she saw were flames, red gold flames and a cold black form that challenged her power.

And when her flames and clashed with that cold blackness, when she had unleashed her power without feeling a need to rein any of it in, without regard of what else she might harm… oh, it had been exhilarating! Fire had coursed through her veins, burning so brightly until everything was transformed into beautiful red gold blossoms.

She had heard a voice laughing, an echoing, dissonant sound, and she had known that it was her voice, along with the hundred thousand other voices in the maelstrom with her.

Then, abruptly, she had felt cool arms wrapping around her and yanking her out of the fire. And since then, she had been floating in darkness, dangling just above the mouth of the maelstrom, wondering if whether or not she would plummet back in.

“I should certainly hope not! Do you know how much trouble it is to prevent you from burning down the forest and plucking you out of your personal little mess, little mage?”

“Red.”

The strange red-headed man was floating some distant away, scowling at her and shaking his head, “You know, when I showed you the Sentinel Grove, it was not for you to have jolly fun being a little pyromaniac. One of these days, I am going to give that Azariel boy a talking to – I mean really, how did he turn such an undisciplined apprentice loose?”

“So the forest didn’t burn down. Did any of the people burn down?” the young mage asked, feeling fear and dread coiling around her like serpents.

Red frowned at her, “Are you suggesting that the great and mighty me, who has seen civilizations rise and fall, would not be able to deal with a little upstart like you?”

“I am suggesting that I am not entirely sure if you are an epic hero or villain yet,” Azarielled replied.

“Ah, well, it would seem that you are not entirely hopeless,” Red replied, his lips pulling into a strange smile. “No one died in the forest, not the elves that lived there, and not even that idiot knight friend of yours, despite his best attempts to have himself thoroughly murdered.”

As relief washed over her, the scenery around them changed. In place of empty darkness and the terrible maelstrom, there came to be a garden filled with beautiful flowers, gently floating mage lights, and a pool that reflected the inky blackness of the night sky and the myriad of stars scattered across it like glittering pearls.

“It is beautiful.”

“It was beautiful, once,” Red’s eyelashes drooped, covering his strange two-colored eyes as he gesture for Azarielle to follow him. “Elucielle’s power was very much like yours. When she was much younger, before she became an Archmage, a… friend of hers presented her with this garden as a gift. Beneath the pool lay a large piece of White Moon Jade, a rare material that retains below freezing temperatures under all circumstances.”

“Sounds like an admirer to me,” Azarielle remarked.

“One of many,” Red replied. “Elucielle would submerge herself in the pool whenever she felt disturbances in her power.”

Azarielle regarded Red for a moment, “Are you telling me to look for it. You said that it was beautiful… it’s not there anymore is it?”

“The garden was destroyed by the army of the Avatar of Acedia centuries past,” Red nodded. “But fortunately, Elucielle took the piece of jade with her when she moved to the Spire of Everstar.”

“So…?”

Red sighed in exasperation, “So, little mage-ling, go ahead and lay in the pool. Do you expect me to sit around and put out your fires all the time?”

“This won’t stop it from happening for good,” Azarielle said.

“No, you will struggle with it for as long as your mortal body walks this world,” Red replied, looking at the young mage with what might have been compassion, or perhaps, understanding, in his eyes. “The power will always roil inside of you. You’ll always hear be tempted to use it as you did today. And you will always hear their voices whispering to you. The Abyssal Ones will always call to you. They will offer you the world in return for your soul. Elucielle Gwenevar never gave herself over to them.”

Azarielle found herself standing on the waters of the pool. Her feet were bare, and a soothing coolness seeped through the skin of her toes. She felt her body slowing sinking beneath the water. The temperature of the water seemed to drop as more of her body was submerged, and the young mage wondered why it was that she didn’t feel alarmed in the least. She also noticed that she didn’t feel any wetness, just a slow numbness filling her with calm.

“And what did they tempt you with?” Azarielle asked, looking at Red.

Red’s answer was another strange smile, “Ask that little Gwenevar friend of yours when you see him again.”

Then, the red of his hair blurred with the two colors of his eyes, and his face stretched out until everything blurred together in one dizzying swirl.

The Keystaff Chronicles - Chapter 18

“No!” Ofeera screamed in horror as she watched a pillar of blinding white light shoot out from Theredonie’s eyes, mouth, and the tips of his fingers. Azarielle retaliated by unleashing an attack with her own wand, but not even her master’s powerful creation could withstand the destructive force unleashed by the bereaved young elf. The white light engulfed the young mage with a deafening roar.

The moment she could see again, Ofeera was up on her feet, running unsteadily towards her friend. Her vision was blurred by dancing spots of light, and her ears still rang from the sound of the attack, but she did no care. Through the layer of almost tangible smoke that hung in the air, she could see her friend’s motionless form lay on the ground.

“Well, it seems you are certainly agitated, dear Theredoniel,” Lucien remarked drily. “I had hoped to have more of a word with the lovely lady.”

Ofeera practically fell to a kneeling position next to Azarielle’s unconscious form. Almost immediately, her nose was assaulted with the stench of burnt flesh, and she almost gagged when she saw its source. The mage’s red coat and whatever shirt she had worn underneath were blasted into tatters. Though her face had not been marked, most of her upper body was badly burned and bleeding profusely in several places.

With trembling fingers, the healer laid her hands upon her friends’ body and began to pray. But, her eyes caught sight of her dead sister’s body standing motionlessly some distance away and staring blankly into nothingness, and all reason flew from her mind. Her sluggish tongue mangled the words she had tried to speak, and nothing but incoherent babbling tumbled out from between her lips.

Standing a few feet away, his face drained of blood, Theredoniel stared at Azarielle in horror and disbelief. He could barely comprehend what had happened! One moment, he was trying to tell his friend that he intended to save his wife, and then… and then…

An enraged cry echoed in his ears, and he turned around just as a human knight with the same face as Lucien closed the distance between them in one wild leap and thrust a sword deep into his belly. Pain like he had never experienced before ripped through his body. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came forth was a wet gurgle and a gush of blood.

Theredoniel collapsed as the blade was pulled roughly out of his body. Blood and other thicker things spilled into his hands as his vision dimmed. As he slipped slowly into the all consuming darkness, he thought he heard Eowyna’s voice calling his name.

However, the one who had called out in shock was Ofeera. The healer had looked up just as Luthien struck down her brother-in-law, and though she screamed at him not to deal a death blow, his ears were deaf to her. Luthien’s eyes seethed with fury, and his handsome face was twisted by an animalistic snarl. Wordlessly, the young knight flicked away the blood from his blade and advanced towards his brother.

“Your dear brother-in-law is quite the melodramatic fellow isn’t he?”

Ofeera started and then jerked back in alarm when she noticed that Lucien was standing almost right behind him.

“He spent our entire journey being in a terrible mood and then picks the most inconvenient time to get himself almost disemboweled. Honestly my darling Ofeera, I don’t know why you sister was quite so hung up on him. Really, he’s…”

Before Lucien had a chance to complete his sentence, Breaker was suddenly upon him, striking at him in one lightning fast motion. Even as Ofeera screamed, thinking that Lucien was about to be cut down, the wicked prince’s body dissolved into a plume of black smoke.

Luthien held out his hand towards where his brother had been standing and called out to the Eternal Father. Bright gold flames burst forth from the tips of his fingers and engulfed the tendrils of darkness that writhed like snakes in the air. Without pause, the young knight closed his fingers into a fist and the shinning flames swallowed up the smoke entirely.

The fire continued to burn for a while before disappearing after one bright flare. Luthien dropped to one knee and tried to catch his breath. The Holy Fire was the greatest weapon the Eternal Father bestowed upon his paladins. But, it took a heavy toll on the strength of its user, so much so that Luthien had seen others of his Order die of exhaustion after pouring out Abihayil’s wrath upon his enemies. At least he had seen the smoky form of Lucien being destroyed by the flames…

“That was entirely too close.”

Luthien’s eyes widened with outrage and dread as he turned his face in the direction of the voice. Sure enough, Lucien stood some distance away, facetiously dusting of his coat from which tendrils of smoke rose. The cruel prince lifted his right hand to examine, revealing skin that become blistered and was peeling away. Unlike the other wounds he had sustained so far, his skin and flesh did not mend itself back into wholeness but remained burnt.

“If you had been just a little faster, dear brother,” Lucien’s mouth curved into a pleasant smile but his eyes flashed coldly.

Snarling wordlessly, Luthien pointed at his brother and prayed to the Eternal Father for his gift of the flames once again. But before he could complete his prayer, Lucien made a flicking motion with one of his fingers. Immediately, Luthien felt his chest, where his brother had once laid his hand, grow warm. And then, just as with his arm, the flesh across his chest began to tear apart as if invisible claws were ripping him asunder.

Luthien immediately pressed his hand over the wound and tried to fight off his brother’s vile power. His fingers became sticky with his own blood as he tried to stop the wound from tearing further. But even as he managed to stem the flow of blood from the chest wound, the wound along his arm tore apart again.

Gritting his teeth against the agonizing pain, Luthien lifted his head and glared at his brother. From where he stood, Lucien watched him with a pleasant smile and monstrous, uncaring eyes. Those eyes that seemed to resemble chips of ice for all the life and warmth that they held told him in no uncertain terms that to Lucien, he had no more significance than an ant. And, as his vision wavered from the loss of blood, he though he caught glimpse of a dark shadow, in the shape of some winged creature clinging to his twin.

A lithe figure darted past him and towards Lucien, and Luthien saw a flash of silver as Breaker struck out at his brother. Lucien made no move to block or side step, choosing instead to stand his ground. The shadowy form stretched forward and wrapped itself around the elf. Breaker was entirely blind to the shadowy form. He had only a moment of warning, when his breakers practically shrieked in alarm, before what felt like a giant hand wrap around his body.

Scalding coldness seared through his body, and the elf let out a cry of pain. He thrashed violently against this attack, but what held him was as immovable as rock. Burning ice rolled through his bodies in waves, setting his nerves ablaze in agony. He felt his strength, his will, his very life itself being drawn out of his body. His breakers slipped from his convulsing fingers.

Luthien watched in horror as a miasma of darkness enveloped the gray elf. He tried to rise to his feet to offer aid, but before he had taken more than two steps, Lucien turned to face him. He beheld his brother’s inhuman eyes before a terrible sight swallowed his entire vision. The world was consumed by a fire that seemed somehow a living entity. The smell of ash filled his nostrils and a thousand banshees shrieked in his ear. His own body was ablaze, and his scream joined the multitude of screams.

Then, as suddenly as the nightmarish vision had come, it was gone. He found himself kneeling on the ground, his wounds still bleeding profusely but not worsening. A few feet away, Breaker was struggling to his feet, although the gray elves’ usually fluid motions were jerky and unsteady.

Not knowing what his brother was planning, Luthien looked up and was started to see a fleeting look of surprise passing over his brother’s face. Lucien paid no heed to either Breaker or Luthien, looking instead at something behind them. Half expecting this to be another cruel trick, Luthien nevertheless found himself unable to resist the urge to look back behind him.

To his shock and joy, he found Azarielle standing upright on her own two feet. Her bright red coat and whatever shirt she had worn underneath fluttered around her in tatters, baring more flesh than was modest. But the burnt and bleeding flesh had become whole.

But something was not quite right about the mage. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted to one side with a small smile on her face as if she was listening to some melody that only her ears can hear. She took a few almost dancer-like steps and even did a little swirl.

“Azarielle, what are you doing?” Luthien asked. The mage didn’t answer, but she didn’t open her eyes and look at him. The sight of her eyes made his stomach drop to the soles of his boots. Just like the time on the boat, he saw arcs of golden lightning flashing in the depths of her dark amber eyes. And again, when he looked into those eyes, he beheld the fiery maelstrom with its tongues of hungry fire and heard ten thousand voices each screaming a different song.

There was no recognition in her eyes as she looked at him, even though she said, “Luthien Delynd, paladin prince of the Achienda Empire and Holder of the Holy Flame of Abihayil.”

“What is the matter with you, mage?” he demanded. Azarielle laughed. It was a lilting yet frightening sound that carried the cacophonic echo of the voices he had heard.

Instead of answering him, she turned her attention to Lucien.

Azarielle held out her hands holding them in a cupped position. She spoke a few words in the arcane language, and a bright red-gold fire sprung to life in her hands. With another discordant-sounding laugh, the young mage tossed the small fireball into the air and blew a kiss at it.

The small fireball grew brighter and larger as it twirled madly in the air, and then all of a sudden, the fiery form of a phoenix burst into life and hurled itself at Lucien. The dark form that clung to Lucien shot forth to meet the attack, and when the two powers met, black fire exploded into the sky with a deafening roar that sent Luthien and Breaker flying backwards.

Luthien lost consciousness for a moment, but when he finally came to, he found Breaker kneeling beside him with his large throwing star held in front of him.

“And that, Knight, is why all mages are dangerous,” the elf said wryly, never taking his eyes off either Azarielle or Lucien.

The two were locked in battle, red-gold flames pitted against icy darkness, and producing deadly black fire that seemed to touch the sky. Azarielle had become like a creature of fire, her black hair tinted red-gold by the dancing flames that had wrapped around her body like her red coat had. And, she laughed all the while as she fought Lucien, her head thrown back and her voice resounding dissonantly throughout the clearing.

Pillars of fire shot out of the ground, reducing the elven ghouls to ash. But the flames did not disappear as they had in the past once the ghoul was consumed. Instead, they continued to burn, spreading like an angry red wave throughout the clearing.

“Azarielle, what are you doing?!” Luthien screamed at the mage. “If you keep it up, you will bring burn to the ground!”

She paid him no heed, and the flames continued to blame.

“Azarielle, please stop!” Ofeera’s voice called out from somewhere across the sea of fire. “I cannot shield everyone from your fire any longer!”

Breaker cursed softly in his own language and began advancing towards the mage, his eyes narrowed.

“What in the name of the Eternal Father are you doing?” Luthien demanded, grabbing the elf by his wrist.

“She has lost her mind, Knight. And she will turn us all to ashes if she continues!” Breaker spat the words out from between clenched teeth, pulling his arm back with surprising strength.

“Breaker, don’t!” Luthien growled, drawing his sword and rounding on the elf.

“You would try and stop me, knight?”

“Don’t do it. There has got to be another…”

Before he could finish the sentence, a sudden wave of power, followed by superheated air rolled over them. Luthien reacted quickly enough to throw a shield up around himself and Breaker so that they were not evaporated on the spot. The heat did not let up though, as he had thought it would, and neither did the terrible power that continued to roll over them in unrelenting waves. It was all he could do to hold his shield in place, and even then Luthien knew that he was not going to be able to withstand this power for much longer.

And then, one more wave of power crashed over them. He felt his shield crumble, felt the searing heat upon his eyebrows, and…

Abruptly the power disappeared and, when he opened his eyes, the flames had disappeared too. In fact, everything had been returned back to normal. The forest remained unharmed, and in fact, Luthien found himself looking at several dozen confused looking high elves who were very much alive and not ghouls.

Azarielle lay on the ground, unconscious but apparently uninjured. Standing over her was an old elven woman, so wrinkled that her face looked like weathered parchment.

“I say, did everyone have a pleasant dream?”

The Keystaff Chronicles - Chapter 17

Cool, soothing, and life-giving, like water to a man dying of thirst, Ofeera’s power flowed into Luthien and restored him. But any semblance of calm he might have felt evaporated the moment his eyes caught sight of his brother standing some distance away, smiling smugly at the horrors he had wrought. Breaker was not in too bad of a shape, having methodically dispatched several of the undead elves his brother had raised. Hazuriel and his companions were not faring nearly as well. Several of them had already fallen under the mindless onslaught of the undead, unwilling to fire at their loved ones, while the other desperately plucked at their bows to keep their dead kin at bay.

Growling deep in his throat, the young knight’s healed hand tightened around the pommel of his sword.

“Luthien, please…” Ofeera’s voice beseeched him breathlessly.

“Please what?!” he demanded as he snatched his arm away from her clinging hands. “Look at what he has wrought!”

The knight’s harsh rebuke made Ofeera draw back. She had seen the dead and knew that she had to act. Yet, the sight of Lucien, her beloved, stole her strength and resolve. She could not strike out against him; she could not even find the voice to pray and return these defile bodies back to the earth. The fierce battle all around her, the screams and shouts of her companions and the surviving high elves, she saw it all and heard it all. But it wasn’t real to her, as if she wasn’t really here and was just looking on.

A shadow suddenly interposed itself between her and her view of Lucien. She saw a flash of silver and a body fell to the ground. “Lady Ofeera, get up or you are going to die!”

She looked up, unable to really comprehend what was being said to her. Hands grabbed her by the way and non too gently hoisted her up to her feet. She got a glimpse of gray skin and two-colored eyes. “Breaker?”

The gray elf said something that was guttural and harsh in his language, pushed her to the side, and swung his curved blades. Another high elf ghoul fell to the ground, its head severed from its body. Unable to help herself, Ofeera looked down. It was a young elven woman, whose leaf-green eyes stared up unblinkingly at her.

“Merciful…merciful Abihayil…” the young healer whispered. Someone was breathing too quickly, drawing desperate, ragged breaths. After a moment, she realized that it was her, that darkness hovered at the edges of her vision and her heart pounded frantically against her chest. She sank to the ground with Luthien’s roar resounding in her years.

The young knight charged towards his brother again, his eyes blazing fiercely. Elven ghouls came forward to block his way, but without slowing down, Luthien called upon the Eternal Father for strength and blasted them with His holy fire. The golden flames leaped from ghoul to ghoul, reducing their bodies to ashes in a matter of moments.

“Well, it would seem like a congratulations is in order, my dear brother,” Lucien arched an eyebrow and smiled. “You have become a paladin. Father and mother must be so proud.”

Luthien snarled in response, swinging his sword at his hated brother. It connected with a fiercely glowing shield and rebounded as another body appeared between him and his target. The young knight had only a moment to react as a bolt of arcane energy shot towards him. But this time, he was not taken completely by surprise. The holy flame roared to life in front of his, and the arcane bolt was swallowed up by it as if it never existed.

“Get out of my way!” the young knight yelled as he swung his sword again, this time at the black-robed mage from the Dark Empire. The mage held up what looked to be a metal staff to block the blow, although Luthien struck hard enough to send the man stumbling a few steps backwards with a grunt.

“Oh my, how kind of you to assist me,” Lucien chuckled. The vile prince seemed more than happy to step aside and watch the show from the sidelines.

The Rising Sun mage and Lucien exchanged several more blows, with the young knight shouting his frustration with each attack. So powerful were his strikes that each sparks flew with each blow. The enemy mage’s staff had to have been enchanted in some way or it would have been severed in two.

Although the Dark Empire was know for its battle mages equally well versed in martial arts and arcane arts, and this one was clearly no stranger to wielding his staff in hand-to-hand combat, he could not match Luthien’s ferocity. After a few more exchanges that forced him back several more steps, the man jumped back, pointed his finger at the knight and began muttering under his breath.

“You whose lips that utter naught but wickedness and deceit, in the name of the Uncrowned King, be silent and speak no more!” Luthien shouted as he made a cutting motion with his sword.

An arc of blinding white light speared through the sky and pierced the Rising Sun Mage before he could complete whatever incantation he had tried to complete. The man’s body quavered like a leaf in the wind, and without so much as a gasp of objection, he collapsed to the ground. The metal staff he had wielded was turned to ashes, and pale white smoke rose from the man’s still form.

Breathing heavily, Luthien turned to his brother yet again, a grim expression on his face.

“Hmm, now that, my dear little brother, is a bit frightening,” Lucien’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

Seeing his comrade fall, Dao spun around, intending to give aide. Azarielle, who had been battling him without the use of her arcane gift, took this moment of distraction to slam her foot into his stomach. Unprepared for this, Dao sprawled backwards, landing in an undignified heap on the ground.

“How can my lady side herself with one who would steal a mage’s arcane gift?!” Dao coughed, as he struggled to his feet.

“You mean Luthien over there? I think the only thing he did was cast out whatever abyssal fiend, whatever yaoguai was living inside Ting’s body. That same thing probably sucked out his arcane power as well, so actually, you should probably thank Luthien. A couple of more years of this and Ting would be an empty husk not much different than these ghouls,” Azarielle replied. “Now tell me something, Dao, how can you abide to serve a fiend like the Luminous Consort? I was under the impression that you weren’t too fond of her.”

“I serve His Highness, the Prince Yue,” the mage replied, getting back to his feet.

“And Yue is her unthinking slave,” Azarielle tilted her head, her golden eyes flashing. “Unlike Lan, you don’t have a sister that would never leave Yue. And unlike Bi Xiang, you aren’t a sociopathic murderer. The only thing holding you to him is your misplaced loyalty. He’s not a deity – he’s a servant of the Abyssal One Luxuria. Stop deluding yourself.”

“My lady, all that I have I owe His Highness,” Dao replied. “Though your servant is not worthy, he knows that he needs to repay a life debt to Prince Yue! So please do not resist any longer. Your ladyship is exhausted, else she would have unleashed her power upon me, am I not right?”

“All that you have your owe the Eternal Father,” Azarielle said. “Your life debt is to the Uncrowned King.”

“I do not know of these foreign deities, my lady.” Dao shook his head. “I know only of the Empire and the Prince Yue.”

Azarielle shook her head, “Deity, singular. Unfortunately, this isn’t really the time for a conversation about the purpose and meaning of life. I really, really need for you to get out of my way.”

“You do not have the strength to stop me at this moment, my lady.”

In response, Azarielle flicked her wrist, dropping a wand into her hand. “It’s all in the preparation, Dao.” She pointed the wand at the Rising Sun mage and spoke a single word of command. The tip of the wand smoldered like an ember, growing brighter and brighter until Dao had to look away. He had just enough time to summon a shield before a blast of power smashed into him full force. The shield he had created could not withstand the fearsome power unleashed by the wand, but it did give him the time he needed to teleport out of harm’s way.

Azarielle did not have time to lament her near miss as Dao instantly launched into an attack of his own. A web of glowing green-yellow energy shot out from his hand. She could read the power Signature of the attack well enough to guess that its intent was sap her of her power and stun her into unconsciousness. Since Yue’s command to Dao had, apparently, been to capture her alive, he would not unleash the worst of his powers. Still, she knew how powerful Dao was, and she had no intentions of getting hit by anything he threw at her.

Holding her short sword out in front of her, Azarielle spoke a short command of her own, grimacing as she felt a jolt of pain that warned her of power overuse. The runes along her short sword flared to life, glowing bright blue. Standing her ground, she swung her sword at the energy web. There was a loud boom, like a clasp of thunder as the she cut tore through Dao’s arcane weavings and web exploded into a harmless shower of lights.

She unleashed her second blast with her wand the same time that Dao unleashed an energy blast of his own. The power of Azarielle’s wand proved to be greater, and Dao was sent flying backwards despite having shielded himself.

“So, that’s the power of the great Azariel Gwenevar,” a soft voice spoke suddenly from behind her, causing her to start.

She spun around and spotted Lucien standing a few feet away, a smile curving his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s nicely horrifying, I must say. I wonder how he would have compared with the great lady Elucielle.”

Not wanting to exchange any meaningless banter with the dangerous prince, Azarielle opened her mouth as if she intended to say something, but instead, she pointed her want at Lucien and spoke the words to unleash what remained of its pent up power in one devastating attack.

But even as she hoped to catch Lucien unawares, she was caught unawares. She felt a shock race up the arm that held a hand, not enough to seriously wound her, but enough to stun, and the wand slipped through her suddenly nerveless fingers. Azarielle hopped back a step, expecting to see a revived Dao.

Instead, she saw Theredoniel, standing a few feet aware, a grimly determined expression upon his gaunt face. In one hand, her friend held what appeared to be a long metal box used to store chests. In his other hand, he held a long, metal battle staff topped with a amber-colored jewel at one end and tapering off to a sharp point on the other end.

“My dear Theredoniel, you have certainly been taking your time!” Lucien exclaimed.

“My dear Theredoniel, you have a lot of explaining to do,” mimicking Lucien’t tone of voice, Azarielle said, taking a few steps to the side and turning her body so that she was able to keep both Lucien and Therdoniel in her line of sight.

“Azarielle, stay out of this, please,” the elf spoke to his friend in High Elven, his usually melodious voice sounding hoarse as if he had had screamed his throat raw.

“Theredoniel, where is Eowyna?” Ofeera asked from where she knelt, the sight of her brother-in-law shaking her from her shock.

Theredoniel’s face twisted in a grimace of pain and in a choked voice, he replied, “I am sorry Ofeera, she’s… she’s sick.”

Ofeera opened her mouth to ask more, but before she could get a word out, Lucien spoke up, gesturing with his hand, “Now, now dear Theredoniel, it is not nice to keep your wife all to yourself. It is quite clear that her loving sister has been worried. My darling Ofeera, your beautiful sister is here.”

Lucien snapped his hand once, and a figure that walked slowly out from behind a tall tree. She had the same golden hair and fair skin as her Ofeera, but in death, Eowyna’s once graceful stride had been reduced to a slow, halting gait. Ofeera’s, whose heart had leaped in joy when she first caught sight of her beloved sister, slowly started to think as her brain tried to accept the truth that her senses were telling her.

What she beheld was her sister’s corpse, beautifully restored to be sure, but a corpse nonetheless. Those eyes that had once gazed upon her with fond teasing were empty. No soul lived within that empty husk and it moved only because of Lucien’s terrible power. Ofeera opened her mouth to speak, but the only sound that escaped was a whimper.

“May Abihayil have mercy,” Azarielle’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Theredoniel, what happened?”

“She’s… she’s just sick. But I will make her well again. And then, it will be like it was before…”

“You idiot,” Azarielle responded. Though Theredoniel had not offered her any useful information, she had seen enough to know what had happened. A sudden surge of power as hot as burning flame suddenly coursed through her, and her vision blurred for just a moment. Then, taking a deep breath, she flexed her fingers, calling the wand back into her hand and aimed it at Lucien again.

“Azarielle, please don’t,” Theredoniel said, his finger pointed at his friend. “You aren’t in the best shape right now. And, I… I don’t want to fight you.”

“Theredoniel, Eowyna is dead.”

The words, spoken in High Elven by one of his dearest friends, and with a finality that defied argument, struck the young elf with the force lightning bolt. Theredoniel opened his mouth to deny these words, to tell Azarielle that she was mistaken, and that he would seek to make her well again. Instead, what came out were the words of an attack, spat with all his anger and hatred towards the Eternal Father that had taken his wife away.

His body lit up my streaks of lightning as if it were the stormy sky. Lightning snaked up and down his body and lanced forth from his eyes, his mouth and his finger tips.

The Keystaff Chronicles - Chapter 16

With the high elven archers covering their retreat, the companions followed Hazuriel as he led them towards the Everstar Spire. Luthien and Ofeera did their best to keep up with the elf’s ground eating pace while Azarielle and Breaker took up rear positions and dealt with any of the flying fiends that somehow dodged the elven arrows.

“How did these creatures get here so quickly? It’s as if they knew whatever it was that protected the forest had disappeared,” Breaker grimaced slightly as he caught his large throwing star.

“I don’t know about that thoroughly unpleasant patched up giant, but the rest of these ghouls are just animated corpses driven by an instinct to feed. It wouldn’t have been strange if one or two happened to wander over by chance, but for them to all come at once, well, I would guess it’s that servant who summoned them. While I generally don’t condone mage-slaying, he’s an exception.” Azarielle replied.

Then, she added, “I know your preferred method of dealing with people is cutting their throats and having them bleed all over you, which, by the way is very much indicative of deep-seated psychological issues. However, that might not be the most brilliant plan with him. He will most likely work some nasty art and have you ribcage tear itself out of your body.”

Breaker bared his teeth at Azarielle, “You don’t have to tell me that, mage. That is how he killed my brothers.”

Azarielle’s response was drowned out by the shriek of a flying fiend. The young mage spun around, spread out her arms, and spoke several words in rapid succession. Tongues of crackling fire ignited at the tips of her fingers and sprayed outwards, leaving behind fiery trails. The fiery missiles struck multiple monsters simultaneously, and they instantly burst into flames.

“Flashy, but shouldn’t you be conserving your strength?”

Azarielle had continuously expended Arcane power, and the gray elf knew that she was weakening under the continued use of her Gift. Her normally rosy complexion had grown pale, and her breaths came in faster and shallower gasps. Even though Breaker could not sense the Arcane Gift, he was intimately familiar with the signs that indicated a mage’s exhausted state, having exploited that on numerous occasions.

“Style, Sir Slayer, is important,” she replied. Despite her flippant words, Azarielle knew that Breaker was right. Her legs felt like lead, and darkness was already gnawing away at the edges of her vision. She had originally meant to cause the flying fiends to simply combust, but because her concentration and energy were both lagging, she had to attack as she did in order so as not to miss, and that wasted more power. With the sparkling Everstar Spire growing larger and larger in their field of vision, Azarielle knew that another battle was inevitable.

To make things worse, she could feel the darker part of Gift churning inside her like a malevolent storm, waiting to be unleashed. More than one mage had lost their minds or their lives when, unable to control or contain their own Gift, they were consumed by it. Or, she might survive, but in tasting such power, she might be seduced by it and fall under the sway of the Abyssal Ones.

Luthien’s sudden cry startled the young woman from her dark thoughts. The trees had given away to a clearing, and the Everstar spire glittered before them in all its magnificence, jutting out in one singe breathtaking crystalline piece like the horn of a unicorn. All around the spire were homes that seemed to have formed from the tall trees themselves.

It would have been a wondrous sight were it not for the bodies of high elves strewn around them like ragdolls. Men, women and even children – none had been spared. And amidst this carnage, stood three black-robed mages and a man whose hair shimmered like moonlight on snow.

Luthien drew out his weapon and charged towards the man with a wordless roar of rage.

“Lucien the Defiler,” Breaker’s eyes blazed with uncontained hatred as he spat out the words like a curse. The gray elf drew his curved blades but didn’t launch himself at the attacker.

“So, the Brotherhood of the Red Hand teaches its members better survival skills than the Knights of Elad,” Azarielle remarked drily. “Sometimes, I wonder how His Highness has managed to live this long.”

Thought and reason flew from Luthien’s mind the moment he saw his brother, and he charged as rage transformed his world into a red nightmare. His mouth moved, but the guttural, almost animalistic sounds that spilled out were incoherent. The image of Lucien standing over him with a satisfied smile curving his face as he tried to breathe past the blood filling his throat came to his mind again. His brother had just slain their uncle and his hands were still covered in blood from when he had viciously ripped out their uncle’s heart.

“Hello little brother, I see that you are quite well and energetic as usual. How is our honored father – still alive I presume if your are out running about?” Lucien greeted him.

In response, Luthien raised his sword over his head and brought it down in a powerful overhand strike. Before he could complete his attack, he sensed a sudden rush of power directed towards him, and quickly created a shield. The invisible power struck his shield with enough force that cracks appeared along the surface like the tendrils of a cobweb.

For just a moment Luthien to turn his head to see who had attacked him, and saw a group of black-robed mages standing some distance away. Then, he spun back to face his brother. But, that one moment of distraction proved to be costly. Lucien, with a cool smile curving his lips, hand lifted up his hand and pressed a singer black-nailed finger against Luthien’s shield.

A black, viscous fluid spread over the young knight’s shield, seeping through the shinning surface and fell on him in globs. When the foul liquid touched him, it ate through his armor as if the armor was paper, and seared into his flesh. Luthien let out a yelp of pain and surprise and swung his sword at his brother to keep Lucien at bay. Laughing mockingly, his older twin stepped back out of the way with ease that mocked his efforts.

“You are still not focused enough, dear brother,” Lucien shook an admonishing finger at the knight.

Where the black fluid touched him, the skin and flesh split open as if cut by a sharp knife. Luthien tried to ignore the pain and attack his brother again, but the cut continued to grow larger, running up his arm and tearing open a shoulder. Grabbing his injured shoulder with his other hand, the young knight summoned his own power to stem the spread of the injury. Blood flowed from between his fingers and he gritted his teeth, glaring at his brother.

Lucien’s terrible power slithered up his arm like a hungry serpent, striking with sudden and terrible force. It was all he could do to prevent more of his flesh from being ripped open. Meanwhile, his injured arm had grown cold and numb, and the sword that he had held dropped from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

“Oh, it looks like you have improved. The last time this wound went all the way up your chest. I am so proud of you, little brother,” Lucien said.

“Accursed abyssal spawn,” Luthien squeezed the words from between his teeth.

“I must admit that I am a little jealous of you. You have two lovely ladies in your company. My darling Ofeera, you are even more beautiful in person than I remembered! And your lovely black-haired companion must be Azarielle. It’s a privilege to meet you in person at last.”

“To be honest, I would much rather get acquainted with a hungry dragon or some ogres than you,” Azarielle replied.

“What harsh words you say,” Lucien’s widened his eyes in feigned hurt as he pressed his fingers against his chest. “You wound me.”

“I sure hope so,” Azarielle responded. Then, turning to address the black-robed mages, Azarielle said, “Dao, Ting and Kai – I wondered if it was the three of you.”

Dao bowed deeply, “Lady Ree, your slaves wish you a thousand years of health!”

“Me too,” Azarielle replied. “So, if you could do me a favor and disappear, that would be great. And, if you can take that malnourished want-to-be ghoul with you, I’d be thoroughly tickled.”

“Your slaves cannot do as the Lady requests. We are here at the bidding of Prince Yue, to assist the lord Lucien in his task.”

Azarielle rolled her eyes, “Stop referring to yourselves as my ‘slaves’. Slaves would hardly disobey their mistress. Oh well, if you can just stand there and do nothing, I suppose that’s alright as well.”

With his head still bowed, Dao responded with, “His Highness has also commanded that we escort your ladyship back to Long Peace should we have the fortune of encountering you on this trip.”

“Breaker, malnourished ghouly is all yours. Hazuriel, if you would be so kind as to have your men pick a target, any target, and shoot away, that would be great. Ofeera…”

Azarielle’s eyes narrowed when she noticed her friend doing a fine job of imitating a statue, her eyes wide with shock, and her breaths coming in rapid gasps. She had wanted to ask her friend to call down her holy power and attack Lucien, but from the look on Ofeera’s face…

“Ofeera, snap out of it,” she gave her friend the equivalent of a gentle mental shake. “I think Luthien is doing a good job of bleeding to death over there. Please help him.”

“Ah… ah! Luthien!” Ofeera gasped, noticing for the first time that the knight was kneeling in a swiftly spreading pool of blood. Without another word, se rushed over to where he was.

A dark shadow swept past her, heralded by a flash of silver that spun end over end towards Lucien. At the very last moment, the weapon was suddenly redirected, abruptly curving to the side and landing harmlessly onto the ground.

“Well, well, a brother of the Red Hand.”
Breaker was upon him in a flash, moving almost too fast for the eyes to follow as he struck at the throat, the shoulders and chest in quick succession. The first few blows changed directions just before they struck their mark, but not even Lucien was able to turn the last attack away from himself quickly enough to avoid injury. The tip of Breaker’s sharp blade drew a thin line of blood across Lucien’s cheek. The wound healed almost immediately, the flesh and skin knitting back together and not leaving behind a scar.

“Breaker, duck!”

Hearing Azarielle’s shout, Breaker dropped to the ground just as arcs of black lightning lanced outwards from the tips of Lucien’s fingers hurtled through the space where he had been. At the same time, a volley of arrows flew in the other direction, aiming for the vile prince.

Lucien murmured a few words and cocooned himself in a shield, furrowing his brow ever-so-slightly as he felt the arcane imbued arrowheads chip away at his power. “Oh my, it would seem that we are going to need a little bit of help.”

He sliced open the base of his palm with a sharp nailed and cast the blood onto the ground. Then, he spoke a few guttural words and all of a sudden, the bodies around them began to move.

“Alright, you need to go now,” Azarielle pointed her finger at Lucien and spoke her own words of attack. A crackling fireball sprung into life and hurtled towards the vile prince, growing in size and gaining momentum as it went. Lucien’s eyes narrowed as he spotted fiery death hurtled towards him. Azarielle’s power passed over him in a wave of scalding heat that made the ends of his hair stand up.

Lucien threw more of his own power into his defensive shield even as he braced himself. He knew that he would not be able to strengthen his shield enough to absorb such a powerful attack, and though it would not kill him, he would not be able to heal himself instantly either.

A wall of green-yellow light snapped into place in front of him just as the blazing fireball reached him. The arcane flames stripped through wall layer by layer until it crumbled, but the wall did absorb some of that immense power so that by the time it blew apart his personal shield, Lucien felt nothing more than a momentary roar of flames.

It would seem that Prince Yue’s gifts were not entirely useless after all.

“That was frightening,” Lucien said as he slid his hands over his shirt to put out a few lingering flames. “The apprentice of the great Azariel Gwenevar indeed.”

Azarielle gritted her teeth and moved her fingers slowly as she felt the first hint of numbing coldness deep inside of her. She had hoped to severely wound Lucien with that swift attack, and had poured much of her remaining power into it. So long as Luthien’s unpleasant brother couldn’t raise the slain elves as ghouls, they would be able to fight with high elves’ help.

Forcing a smile onto her face, she turned to Dao and said, “Of all Yue’s servants, you were one of the least unpleasant. You are not going to get a fruit basket from me during the Holy Birth festival for sure.”

“My lady, I have no desire to fight you. If you would come with us now, we will return you to His Highness immediately.”

“Dao, you know that I almost got eaten by Yue’s pet dragon when I left right? Do you honestly think I’d willingly follow you into another one’s stomach?”

“My lady, I assure you that His Highness had no intentions of…”

Azarielle didn’t wait for him to finish. Drawing her short sword, she launched herself at him.

The Keystaff Chronicles - Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Much to their relief (and suspicion), the companions did not encounter any more ghouls as they made their way to the Sentinel Grove. And, despite the urgency of their mission, they could not help but marvel at the ancient trees whose boughs seemed to touch the sky. It was with almost reverential awe that they gazed upon this ancient wonder, thought to have been destroyed long ago.

“Blessed Abihayil!” Ofeera gasped in high elven, eyes wide with amazement. “These trees dwarf the mighty giants of Azturoth!”

“Azturoth?” Hazuriel, the leader of the high elves arched an eyebrow. “New Aztur?”

“It was founded by the grandson of your last ruler,” Luthien replied. The young knight might have continued if he hadn’t noticed the frown on Azarielle’s face. She faced the trees with her hands extended and her eyebrows drawn together.

“What is it?”

“There was a shield protecting this grove, but not anymore,” the mage replied.

Hazuriel stared at Azarielle with an ashen complexion, “What are you saying mage?”

“Exactly what you think I am saying,” Azarielle’s expression was uncharacteristically grim. “You had better pray that the ghouls hadn’t gotten in there already.”

Hazuriel cursed under his breath and then gestured with his hand at his invisible comrades. With her Mage Sight, Azarielle was able to see the high elves spread out and move into the forest.

“Hazuriel, remember what we said earlier. Someone had been working the Dark Art and animating the dead,” the mage cautioned. The elf gave a brisk nod of his head, and then, like the rest of his companions, faded from sight.

“I don’t think that disappearing act of theirs is particularly helpful right now. Azarielle, can you still see them?” Luthien asked.

“I’ll walk in front,” the mage responded.

The knight nodded, “Lady Ofeera, can you surround us in a shield? The… servants are in that forest. I can feel it.”

With Azarielle walking at the front, followed by Luthien, Ofeera, and then Breaker, the companions trailed the high elves into the forest. It was dimly lit, like walking through a forest at dusk, but smelled of leaves and fresh air. Exotic vines curled around the thick trunks of the tall trees and strange flowers bloomed in patches. Beneath them, the ground was soft and moist, unlike the dried, cracked earth outside the forest. Under any other circumstances, the companions would have marveled at this wondrous oasis. But, with the threat of confrontation looming, none of them could focus on their surroundings.

Ofeera walked with her fingers clenched so tightly that she left crescent moon imprints of her nails into the palm of her hand. She had surrounded the companions within a softly glowing bubble to protect them from sudden attacks, but she her concentration was wavering. She could sense residual arcane power hanging in the air, and she recognized all too well two of the Signatures left behind. Theredoniel was here, and, so was Lucien.

Luthien had drawn his sword, and stared intently into the gloom, looking for anything out of the ordinary, and wishing that he had Breaker’s Azarielle’s Mage Sight or Breaker’s elven vision. They were the only two people who could actually see anything, and though Luthien trusted them to give ample warning, he wished that he could see.

All of a sudden, he found Breaker moving up beside him, “More of them just came. There are three up ahead to the left and five to the right.”

“And… I am almost positive they are animated corpses,” Azarielle added as she dropped back to walk beside Luthien. The knight almost did a double take when he spotted the mage’s eyes. A strange dark light was swirling hypnotically in them, reminding him of a whirlpool.

“I am going to mark them,” the mage said, and then raising her voice, she shouted. “Hazuriel, three to the left and five to the right! They are the walking dead.”

Green flames lined the elf ghoul just as the first arrow flew towards Azarielle. It stopped in midair and dropped to the ground before it could reach its target while the mage retaliated with areal flames that burst from the ground like a pillar and consumed the dead archer.

Breaker and Luthien leaped into action, the gray elf headed to the left and the knight headed for the right side.

“What are you doing?! Stop!” Hazuriel shouted at Azarielle. The leader of the elves blurred into view, staring at the mage aghast.

“They are the enemy, I told you!” Gubriel appeared beside his leader, an arrow directed at the mage.

In response, Azarielle waved her hand and murmured something underneath her breath. Arrows that had been aimed at the two high elves the moment they became visible dropped to the ground, much to their shock.

“And I told, they are ghouls,” the mage replied. “Instead of trying to shoot me, you better shoot them instead.”

“What…” Hazuriel wasn’t given the chance to formulate an intelligible response before one of his archers that had become visible toppled over with a gurgle, clutching an arrow that had pierced his throat.
“Don’t become visible!” Azarielle shouted in high elven. “They can’t see you!”

“Behind you!” Breaker, who had dispatched three elven ghouls looked up and shouted, shouted at Azarielle and Ofeera when he looked up to see something running towards them through the forest.

Acting purely on reflexes, the young mage surrounded herself, the healer, and the two high elves in a shield. Something struck her shield with such power that spider cracks of light ran along its surface.

“Blessed Abihayil!” Ofeera turned around and beheld such a terrifying vision that she felt her body go cold.

The monstrous creature that loomed over her was a creature that was never meant to have been. It was ten times the height of a man and ten times his girth, and formed from a jumble of body parts haphazardly mashed together by some unholy force. It had eyes all over its head, and a gaping hole filled with decayed, yellow teeth. In one of hands, it held a giant axe. The other arm ended in a metal mallet that had somehow been attached to the creature’s body.

How had such a creature come upon them without any of them noticing? It was so heavy that the earth would surely shake with each step that it took! The creature let out low groan, an utterly hopeless sound that rolled through the air, and lifted its great axe. It brought it down towards them.

“Ofeera, get back!” Azarielle shouted as she jumped in front of her friend and raised both hands as if to fend of the attack. The giant axe struck a glowing red-gold shield, sending up a shower of sparks. Azarielle’s legs buckled under the force of this unexpectedly powerful blow, and she fell to one knee as she struggled to hold up the shield. Seeing her friend struggle, Ofeera forced her quaking limbs into action, holding her hands out and calling upon the Eternal Father to fortify the mage’s barrier.

Their combined powers withheld a second powerful blow as the abomination brought its mallet down to bare, but just barely. And then, suddenly, a black figure streaked passed them and launched itself into the air. They beheld a silver flash, followed by an arc of sickly black liquid spraying outward. The monster let out another groan and swatted at its axe. The dark figure gracefully leaped out of the way, landing a few feet away in a crouched position.

“Breaker!” Ofeera breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the pressure lift off of her.

“I guess you are somewhat useful after all,” Azarielle had regained her footing. Then, without waiting for a response from the elf, the young mage formed a fist with her hand and made as if to hit the monster. A mass of swirling blue light struck the monster with a loud bang, pushing the creature back and blowing open a wound in its malformed body. Roarining so loudly that it made Azarielle’s ears ring, the monster swung its mallet-hand down to squash the offending mage.

This time, the young mage did not try to block the blow. Instead, she jumped nimbly away and threw another blast of swirling blue energy at the monster. At the same time, the ever-so-deft Breaker had hopped light as a cat, onto the monster’s mallet-hand and ran up the creature’s arm as if it was an oversized tree branch. Knowing that the creature’s skin was too thick for him to do more than a shallow cut, and not knowing whether a blow to the neck would kill such a thing, Breaker went for the eyes. Before the creature could react and shake him off, the gray elf dug sank of one of his arcane breakers into the largest of the creature’s many eyes.

The monster howled horribly, a sound as sharp and piercing as knives. It was too much for Breaker’s sensitive elf ears, and disoriented, the gray elf lost his balance and fell.

“Breaker!” Ofeera gasped and rushed over to her fallen friend.

The injured monster swung its axe at the elf and the healer, and might have gotten them if Azarielle’s blast hand’t struck it in one of its legs, tearing another hole in its body. The monster twirled to face the mage, its axe sweeping wildly at the mage. Azarielle dove to the ground, narrowly missing having her head cleaved off her shoulders. Spitting mud from her mouth and blinking debris from her eyes, she held both of her hands up at the creature’s head without bothering to try and get up.

As she spoke the words of command, tendrils of red gold light formed at the tips of each of her fingers. And then, like the tentacles of a jelly fish, these red gold light tentacles suddenly shot outwards, spreading just before it reached the monster’s head, and wrapping around it until it became a glowing red-gold bubble. Azarielle snapped her fingers, and the bubble exploded, taking with it the creature’s head and a portion of the creature’s torso.

Like a felled tree, the monster toppled forward towards where the mage still lay. Letting out a little yelp, shd scrambled sideways, crab-like, on her hands and knees to get out of the way. The monster’s crashed to the ground, lifting up a cloud of dust.

The body shook with spasms as if the nerves had not quite died, and Azarielle, getting a rather bad feeling about it, quickly got to her feet and peddaled backwards. The creature’s back suddenly bulged violently outwards, and then with a sound like parchment ripping, it was torn open from the inside.

Shadowy shapes poured out of the slain monster and flowed towards the mage. There were three separate shapes, though none of them seemed able to hold on to a distinct form. At times, they would take on an almost human shape only to disintegrate into smoky mass that spread outward like oil atop water.

“Look out!”

Luthien leaped in front of the mage and swung his sword in a wide arc. His blade passed through these smoky forms, tearing them in two, only to have them reform in a blink of the eye and continue advancing. A shadowy hand reached out for the knight’s throat, and he struck at it reflexively, only for it to part around his blade, reform and wrap around his neck like a noose.

The moment the shadowy hand touched his neck, it gained substance. Luthien found himself gasping for breath as a vice-like grip tried to crush his windpipe. Darkness ate at the corners of his vision, and as he scrabbled at the hand that was killing him, he fingers passed through thin air.

And then, as suddenly as the hand had grasped him, it vanished. The smoky creature that had attacked him was bathed in blue-white light of Ofeera’s holy power. And uable to withstand the presence of Eternal Father, the smoky creature dissipated into the thin air. Luthien fell to his knees and gasped for breath. However, the disciplined young knight knew that he could not yet rest. Calling upon the power of Abihayil, the young knight summoned the cleansing wrath of the Eternal Father in the form of holy flames and burned away the second shadowy creature.

“Priestly skills definitely come in handy right about now,” Azarielle remarked. Luthien turned to find that the young mage had confined the third of the smoky creatures in a glowing red-gold sphere. “I wonder what my chances are of being ordained as a healer or a knight or something of a priestly nature. Seems unlikely, I know. But the Eternal Father works in mysterious ways, besides which even Azariel is some sort of holy man. Can you believe that? If Azariel can be a holy man, than anyone can be a holy man! ”. As she spoke, she made a crushing gesture with her hands. The thing red-gold box imploded until it simply winked out of existence, taking the final smoky creature with it.

The companions did not have a chance to rest or celebrate though, because the forest was suddenly filled with the sound of flapping wings and terrifying shrieks. More than two dozen creatures that looked like the thing which had attacked Luthien when the companions had still been aboard Azarielle’s flying contraption, swooped through the branches towards them. The high elves, finally snapping out of their shock, greeted the flying fiends with a volley of arrows. Their weapons must have been imbued with Arcane power, because when they landed a head or heart shot, the flying fiends instantly disintegrated into dust.

“Without the shield to protect the grove, we will not be able to survive these constant attacks!” Hazuriel said as he took careful aim and blasted a flying creature out of the air. “Can one of you recreate the shield around the forest?”

“The shield that was in place was probably put in place by the Archamge Elucielle Gwenevar,” Azarielle replied. “I can’t create an impenetrable shield that will stand for a few thousand years, but, I will be able to create something that might hold for a while – enough time for us to think of something. But, I am going to need time, and it definitely helps with the concentration if nothing is trying to eat me.”

“We will head towards the Tower then. Pray to your Eternal Father that the servants you chase have not breached it yet.”