Post by lordtwinblade on Dec 1, 2008 15:16:39 GMT -6
Chapter Two: Unwelcome Guests
Thestalos’s head snapped back, flames bursting from the gaps in his armor. He inhaled violently, gripping his forehead with a steel-sheathed palm.
“Sir, what’s wrong?” His two bodyguards moved to his sides, concern evident in their voices.
The Firestorm Monarch leaned forward, massaging his neck with one hand. “Something is happening in the Mountain Kingdom.” He stroked his chin. An icy chill was worming its way down his spine. “Deploy the Darkblaze Dragons. I want them to conduct a flyover of Granmarg’s realm.”
“It will be done.” One of the guards hurried off while the other remained, hovering uncertainly next to Thestalos’s throne.
“I am fine, Spirit. You may return to your post.” Thestalos rose from his seat, shrugging his shoulders in an effort to banish the chill that still clung like a parasite to his flesh. Unsuccessful, he set out at a brisk pace for the Liase.
The Liase was situated in the tallest tower of Thestalos’s fortress. As the monarch stepped into the chamber, runic symbols began to spread along the walls and floor, casting green, blue, red, and gold light into the surrounding area. Five pillars ringed the center of this room, still unlit. Thestalos stepped out into the nucleus of the Liase. As his feet touched the floor, red runes traced their way out from his steel boots, reaching to the perimeter of the pentagon. At the same time, three of the five towers began to shine, radiating unique colors: the first to the Firestorm Monarch’s left, gold, and then third to the left, blue. The fourth, behind him, shone green. As the arcane symbols crept up their respective hosts, ghostly figures were projected into the air, hovering a few feet off the ground, in front of the pillars.
“My brothers.” Thestalos spoke, addressing the shades.
“Thestalos.” Rumbled the blue specter, his voice as frosty as his visage. “So I was not the only one to feel it.”
“No, brother.” This voice came from the green one. He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, causing his cloak to flutter dramatically. “I had hoped to find none of you here, but…”
“Some are not present.” The golden image spoke, his voice quiet and pensive.
“Indeed.” Thestalos murmured. “I fear something has befallen our brother Granmarg.”
“We would have had warning, though, wouldn’t we?” The blue intoned, as though arguing would make it so. “A movement of any sort against any one of our lands would be a full-fledged campaign. How could Granmarg be besieged without our knowledge?”
The gold monarch remarked, “The Shadowpriestess is gone, too.”
All eyes turned to regard the vacant pillar. For many years the Shadowpriestess of Ohm had served as monarch ‘pro tempre’, after Caius was banished. Her absence indicated that something had gone horribly wrong in the Shadow Kingdom, land of spirits and the dead.
“I have ordered my scouts to investigate the Realm of the Mountain King. I suggest that we marshal our armies, prepare for assault on our own lands.”
The ice monarch crossed his arms. “If treachery has befallen our fellow king, then we should take the fight to him.”
“Calm yourself, Mobius.” The green snapped. “If vengeance must be dealt, it shall be done swiftly, but until then, have patience.”
Mobius snorted. “I merely offered a suggestion.”
“Nevertheless, Raiza is right. We must be patient. Rushing into this will only aggravate the situation – whatever it may be.” Thestalos rubbed the back of his neck again. He turned towards the golden figure. “Zaborg, you have always had a sense for seeing through the darkness. Can you see anything now?”
Zaborg was silent for a long moment. “I can only see flashes – images, bits and pieces of the future. Nothing is clear.”
The others nodded. “As soon as my scouts report back, I shall relay their findings to each of you,” Thestalos let his fire seep through the gauntlet on his left hand. He placed it on his chest. The others mirrored the gesture, and two of them faded away, their pillars growing dark.
“Will you require reinforcements?” Mobius asked. “Your kingdom is closest to Granmarg’s.”
Thestalos sighed. “Even if I were to accept your offer, I doubt they would get here in time.”
“My warriors can be in your realm in two days. You can hold out that long, can’t you?” The Frost Monarch almost seemed to be pleading with his brother. Thestalos shook his head.
“I fear your soldiers will be needed in your land soon enough, brother. Save your strength.”
Mobius vibrated with rage or frustration, Thestalos couldn’t tell which. “You are asking me to abandon my blood brother. I cannot do that.”
“No. I only ask you to honor his wishes.”
The Frost Monarch exhaled sharply, and Thestalos could practically feel the chill radiating off of him. “Very well.” He regained his composure. “I will honor your request.” He gave a slight bow. “Good hunting, brother.”
Thestalos nodded. “Good hunting.”
The lights in the chamber dulled into blackness.
___________________________
“A great warrior does not fear pain.” Sable struck with his chain, the steel ripping into Neo’s side and producing a brilliant spray of red ichor. The swordsman barely flinched, moving in closer to attack his opponent with his bare hands. “But he does not ignore it.”
Neo struck with his left hand, and Sable seemed to stagger back, but before the blonde warrior could move in for the kill, a viper coiled around his throat. Sable yanked the chain and rolled back, taking the younger man down with him. As the masked man came up, he planted a foot on Neo’s sternum and pulled his weapon back. Neo choked, frantically grabbing at the chain with both hands.
“Pain is not something to be feared, but it is something to be heeded.” Sable lectured as Neo struggled. “You must learn to hear your pain without being deafened by it.” Neo wrapped an arm around the chain and dropped his elbow to his chest, taking some of the pressure off his neck. Sable leaned back, dragging Neo to his feet. As the swordsman freed himself of the chain, Sable struck him in the face with an open hand, and then curved his fingers, dragging the claw down his cheek and neck to his collarbone, where they dug savagely into his skin. Neo fell to one knee as Sable dropped his weight on the sensitive point beneath his middle finger.
“You must learn to be subtle.” The hand darted up to Neo’s jaw and stabbed its thumb into the space where the bone connected with the rest of the skull. There was enough force behind that blow to knock Neo onto his back. “You must learn to use every weapon in your arsenal. Remember, there is no such thing as fairness in combat.”
Neo unleashed a blaze of lightning from his index finger. Sable stumbled back as the swordsman rolled to his feet. They met in the middle of the darkened chamber, stepping across the splashes of light flowing from the long, narrow windows in the east wall of the room. Everything around the two of them became immaterial as they clashed, fist on fist. The fight was their universe.
___________________________
Thestalos’s boots beat a steady rhythm against the volcanic rock beneath his feet as he stepped out onto the lava floe where his Darkblaze scouts were just landing. His heart quickened as a human female clad in segmented silver armor and carrying an enormous greatsword strapped over her shoulder leapt down off one of the dragon’s backs. She knelt as the Firestorm Monarch approached.
“I know you, human.” Thestalos stopped a few feet away, folding his massive arms across his chest. “You served under my brother Granmarg.”
“Yes, my lord. My name is Émigré. I bring grave news of my master’s fate.”
“He is dead.” Thestalos turned away. “As I feared.”
“No, my lord.”
Thestalos whirled, flames leaping from beneath his shoulder plates. “What?” He strode forward and grabbed Émigré by the shoulders, lifting her to her feet. “Explain this.”
“Lord Granmarg is imprisoned by Caius the Shadow Monarch.” Émigré’s voice was taut with pain. “I tried to save him but I could not. Caius’s army is massive and well organized, and there are more than shades and ghosts behind him.”
“She speaks the truth, lord.” One of the Darkblaze Dragons rumbled from behind her. “We found her not far from the edge of the Mountain Kingdom, and we could go no further. The air there is patrolled by great beasts, and we dared not provoke them.”
Thestalos nodded tersely. He looked down and realized he was still gripping the woman’s shoulders tightly. He let go, backing off a step. “I apologize, Émigré. You are not the subject of my anger.” He looked up at the sky above, dyed gold by the rising sun. “So, Caius has returned,” he murmured, almost to himself.
There was a moment of thick silence. After a moment Thestalos turned back to his scout, the question he had been dreading on the tip of his tongue. “How long do we have?”
“Caius’s army is less than a day from us now.”
___________________________
“No!” Mobius roared, tendrils of ice snaking between his fingers and freezing on his knuckles. “I will not submit to this!”
“It is the only way.” Thestalos sighed, steam coming from beneath his visor. Must he make this so difficult?
“Thestalos is right, Mobius,” came Raiza’s baritone, “We need to marshal our forces as one to defeat Caius. His warriors crushed Granmarg, they will do the same to us if we meet them in single combat.”
“You ask me to abandon my blood brother, Raiza!” Mobius thundered, evoking a blizzard around his heaving chest.
“Use your head, Mobius!” Raiza hissed, his golden eyes flashing. “Caius’s forces can thin yours with aerial assaults while still maintaining enough manpower to overrun Thestalos’s fortress.”
“Save your forces, brother.” Thestalos pleaded.
Mobius ignored the Firestorm Monarch, speaking to the green titan. “Simply because your blood brother is in no danger-“
“My blood brother is imprisoned, Mobius!” Raiza cut him off with a hurricane’s blast. “There is not a second in this past day when I have not feared for his safety! Do not presume to know my position!” The Frost Monarch sank into sullen silence as the storm quieted. “You know the right course of action. For once, follow your mind instead of your heart.”
“It is better this way.” Thestalos breathed. “You must be ready for war on your own lands.”
Mobius shook his head. “No. I will marshal my forces to meet Caius’s army, but they will never set foot in my kingdom. You, my brother,” here his voice became an icy whisper, “will live to see the day we crush the Shadow Monarch and his disciples.” His eyes locked with Thestalos’s, holding them in a steel vicegrip. “Swear it to me, brother.”
Thestalos nodded. “I swear it.”
Mobius inclined his head slightly and stepped back. His pillar’s light faded into nothing.
Thestalos turned to the other two Monarchs. Raiza spoke first. “We’ll repay the traitor tenfold.”
Nodding, Thestalos raised a hand. “Good hunting, brothers.”
Raiza placed a forearm across his chest and bowed at the waist, “Good hunting.” Zaborg cocked his head to one side, and then disappeared, his pillar darkening. Raiza followed suit, leaving the Firestorm Monarch alone in the shadowy chamber.
The fire giant sighed. “It’s time.” He clenched his fists, allowing his rage to build. Flames burst from the gaps in his armor, and a lattice of fire tangled around his forearms. He looked towards the empty pillar where Caius would have stood, had he still been among their number, and raised his hand, spraying an infernal geyser into its center. The conflagration licked at the black stone, warming its surface, but dealing no real damage. With a snarl, Thestalos added his other hand’s firepower to the stream. A wildfire spread up his shoulders, silhouetting his helmet in a crimson glow. He gritted his teeth and let all his anger pour out through his palms.
The black stone that was the target of his assault continued to weather the storm. As Thestalos’s inferno died down, the pillar stood, unharmed. The Firestorm Monarch touched his hand to the ebony rock. Its smooth surface was warm, but did not chip or bleed any residue. Frustrated, Thestalos threw an aggressive punch. The impact resounded throughout the chamber, but the pillar didn’t budge. Breathing heavily, Thestalos turned away and strode toward the exit.
___________________________
Neo carefully negotiated the log bridge over the water-filled basin below. The chamber he navigated had an intricate maze of wooden slates leading – eventually – to a stone platform in the middle of the artificial lake. Some of the slates were loose, designed to flip when too much weight was put on one side or the other. At other points heavy bags of sand suspended from the ceiling by thick steel chains swung over the walkways, giant pendulums threatening to tip an unsuspecting creature into the water several dozen feet below. The entire assembly was supported by a series of wooden stakes that went all the way to the bottom of the lake.
Just behind Neo, Sable moved with feline grace, occasionally turning and swinging his weapon at their pursuers.
Neo stepped carefully onto the next wooden board, testing to see if it was stable. Satisfied, he turned back to Sable, who was parrying a stroke from one of the Goblin Elites. “It’s safe!” He called.
“I know it’s safe! You need to move faster!” Sable roared, kicking the Goblin in the chest. The warrior slipped on a slick patch beneath his feet and rolled off the walkway, catching himself by the armpit and hanging, one handed, over the water ten feet below.
Neo turned back toward the stone platform and came face to face with a Goblin warrior, sword in hand. He ducked as the attacker swung his weapon, drawing his own sword as he did so. The Goblin evaded his horizontal stroke and closed the distance again.
Neo gasped as he nearly lost balance, and grabbed the Goblin’s sword arm for support. The warrior snarled, staggering forward as Neo twisted, flipping his stance and bringing his opponent’s right hand up to his left shoulder. In the same motion the blond swordsman fired a punch with his weapon arm, striking the green-skinned enemy in the center of the chest. Completely off-balance, the Goblin gave a shriek and tumbled into the murky blue mirror below.
Looking up, Neo saw that there was a fork in the walkway just ahead. Over it swung one of the villainous sandbags, carving an invisible scythe pattern in the air.
“Neo, watch out!” Sable shouted. Neo turned just in time to see a shimmering steel blade descending on his skull.
“Whoa!” Neo leapt back. The tip of the weapon nipped his cheek, and immediately a tiny dome of blood swelled and burst, trickling slowly down from the wound. Neo pin wheeled his arms and got back on balance, realizing too late that he stood just inches from the path of the sandbag, while the grinning Goblin advanced on him, sensing victory.
“Shit!” Neo breathed, swinging his blade in a wild arc, keeping his aggressor at bay for a moment. If he turned his back on the Goblin for even a second he would have a much better understanding of how a pig on a skewer feels, but he could not back into the sandbag’s path, since the walkway split just beyond it. On an adjacent bridge, Sable was expertly fending off two attackers, his ebony greatsword carving half-moon arcs in the air.
The Goblin closed on its prey, a pale tongue snaking from its jaws to lick its dry, chapped lips. The blade had tasted blood, and could not be sheathed until its hunger was satisfied.
At the last possible moment Neo turned, not to dive past the sandbag, but to leap up onto it, wrapping his right leg around its neck, where the chain gripped it like a vise. He grabbed the steel cord with his left hand and craned his neck to look down at his astonished opponent. As the bag swung back, Neo struck with his sword, adding his momentum to that of the pendulum. The Goblin parried the stroke, knocking Neo’s blade from his hand, but misstepped during his recovery and dropped off the edge of the bridge with a strangled cry.
Neo spun from the force of the blow, releasing the bag and dropping onto the left fork with a crash. He groaned and climbed unsteadily to his feet, shaking off the dizziness. Where he was the boardwalk descended almost to the water level, ending in a wide wooden platform that had other walkways branching off from it, one going directly to the center platform where his goal rested.
Breaking into a run, Neo thundered up the bridge toward the stone pillar. He was only a few yards from his goal when the ground gave way beneath his feet.
Neo’s fingertips brushed the wood of the platform before he plunged into the lake below. Water soaked his padded tunic and trousers, tugging him down toward the bottom. For a few moments he floundered, panicking as the air drifted farther and farther away.
Sharp claws ripped into Neo’s lungs, and he opened his mouth to scream – and suddenly he realized the only thing he had to fear was his own mind-numbing paralysis. He closed his eyes and let the terror slip away into the chilly water around him. A few seconds later he was awake, calm and collected. The swordsman drew a knife from its sheath on his thigh and sliced the chest of his tunic open with practiced ease. As the heavy garment sank into the depths below, Neo clenched the blade between his teeth and kicked his way to the surface.
As the swordsman’s head broke the surface, sweet air poured into his lunges. He reveled in the blessed rejuvenation for a moment before returning his attention to his goal.
He was only a few feet from the poles that held the faulty board above the water. To get back onto the boardwalks he would have to swim back to the low platform some fifty feet away, or –
Neo grabbed one of the poles in both hands and flexed his biceps, lifting himself out of the water. He placed his feet on either side of the stick and pushed up, alternating between arms and legs to scramble up the pole like a monkey. As he reached the top he turned so his back was facing towards the stone platform ten feet away. Gauging the distance, he kicked off the pole and turned in midair, his chest striking the edge of the platform.
The wind left Neo’s lungs and he just barely managed to catch himself by his armpits, the impact threatening to wrench his limbs from their sockets. He hung there for a few moments, panting heavily, before swinging his leg up onto the stone and rolling onto his back. Looking up from his position on the ground, he saw his goal, a carved ivory chest, only a few feet away.
Neo struggled to his feet. He was dimly aware of the ringing of steel on steel as he approached the chest that was his goal. However, when he was almost close enough to touch the bone-white box, a disquieting click ripped into his brain. He looked down and realized, with growing dread, that he had just run into another hidden trap, this one activated by his weight. Moments later the air filled with sound of rushing water, as several pipes on the walls he had not noticed before began to dump their payload into the lake, raising the water level at an alarming rate.
The swordsman dropped to one knee in front of the box and analyzed the lock. To open the chest he would need to align four steel pegs, each one with a different symbol on its head, in the proper order. However, on testing them, he found that only two came out at first, but after he freed one another was released from the lock’s grip. Gritting his teeth, he began testing combinations.
A body fell against the chest, jarring his concentration. Sable swung his weapon down, hitting the Goblin with the flat of the blade. There was a sickening crunch as the warrior’s chest plate buckled and his eyes rolled back in his head. His longsword slipped from his limp fingers to clatter on the stone floor.
Irritably, Neo shoved the Goblin off and slammed another peg into one of the slots. Sable’s sword sang shrilly as it passed uncomfortably low over Neo’s head, ruffling his hair with its passing. An unseen foe cried out in pain and dropped his weapon.
“Could you do that somewhere else, please?” Neo shouted, not looking up from his work. Sable didn’t reply, thought it was quite possible he had not heard the swordsman’s amiable request. Another Goblin shrieked, his howl followed by a muted splash.
Neo let out an exasperated sigh as yet another peg stuck, its progress blocked by an invisible latch. He was about to pull it free when something caressed his knee, like a cat scratching its ear on a chair leg. He looked down.
The water had risen up to the platform and was now slithering up on top of it, wrapping the combatant’s ankles in a cool embrace. His heart quickening, Neo ripped one of the pegs loose and jammed the uncooperative one into the vacant slot.
The lock clicked, and the chest swung open, revealing a valve-like handle, designed to be turned with one hand. The swordsman grabbed the cool steel and twisted, turning the bar crosswise. The flow of water ceased, and a door in the eastern wall slid open. Neo was about to holler in victory when another mechanical snap caused the exultation to stick in his throat. The water began to darken as a foreign substance billowed from several metal grates beneath its surface. It floated to the top as torches on the walls broke free of their braziers, falling towards the lake and igniting the black jelly that sat atop it.
Oil. Neo gulped. “Sable, I think we should go now.”
“Really?” Sable’s voice was level. “But things are just getting interesting.” He shoulder-rammed the last Goblin over the platform’s edge, where it sank under the weight of its heavy armor. Without another word he hurried out onto the now-submerged boardwalks, his sword slung over his shoulder. Neo followed close behind as the flames raced alone the water’s surface towards them. Several sandbags still swung across their path, but they avoided them with relative ease. However, they soon came to a point where the water was up to their armpits and it was all they could do to keep their feet on the bridge below. Meanwhile, the inferno continued to creep closer, its red-hot claws groping after them.
The two warriors dove through the portal, just as the fire closed over the water’s surface like a demon’s jaws. The door slammed shut, leaving them in utter blackness. For several minutes there was no sound other than Neo’s heavy breathing.
“Did we win?” The swordsman finally asked.
“Yes, Neo.” The masked man’s voice was tinged with humor. “We won.”
Brilliant white lights flashed on, revealing a bare stone chamber filled with armed Goblin Elites.
___________________________
Thestalos and Émigré walked side-by-side along a raised blade of volcanic rock, past pools of magma and dozens of workers who toiled on, impervious to the extreme heat. The smaller woman was sweating heavily; though she made no complaint she looked extremely uncomfortable.
As the fiery monarch and his guest strode past, a pair of Lava Golems, behemoth warriors bred in the hearts of volcanoes, slammed their fists down into the earth and sent a surge of molten rock through the softened stone ground, carving twin trenches just less than a meter deep. Several smaller creatures flitted around them, fashioning four-foot long spikes of obsidian and plunging them into the lips of the trenches, creating a prickly barrier against haphazard charges.
Behind these trenches another towering creature was settling into a depression in the pumice. This beast had a spearhead snout and a lattice of flame running along its shoulders. Its eight glittering diamond claws were caked with soft stone and dirt. It rose from the hole and signaled to its compatriots to dig the gap a little wider.
“Thank you, Émigré, for bringing advance knowledge of the Shadow Monarch’s tactics.” Thestalos stopped, crossing his arms. He gazed out across the field as his warriors prepared for battle.
“Of course, my lord.” Émigré bowed. “If I may be frank, though, I am not sure what you intend to gain by this preparation. Caius’s ground forces will be able to bypass this defense with ease.”
“I have two reasons for my actions.” Thestalos dropped to one knee and picked up a small chip of obsidian. “First, if Caius’s forces make a frontal ground assault I need some way to slow them down. Second, my soldiers need to be given hope. By digging in and entrenching, I am showing my warriors that we have a fighting chance.”
“It’s suicide.” Émigré whispered.
The monarch shrugged, inspecting the lump of rock in his hand. “Sometimes the only difference between victory and defeat is faith.” He tossed the stone into the lava several meters away, watching it skip twice before evaporating in midair. “I have another job for you. All the monarchs have been warned of Caius’s advance, but the humans need to be ready, in case he decides to strike against them as well. You must ride to Anima. Find the human general known as Freed, he is the only one with the skill to defend them.” He placed both hands on the woman’s shoulders. “I know this is a lot to ask of you so soon after seeing your home under Caius’s heel, but this must be done. I can think of no one better to carry this message.”
Émigré nodded. “I will not fail you, my lord.”
“Good.” Thestalos released her, looking up at the cloudy midday sky. Only a few solitary shafts of sunlight pierced the sulfuric fog that hung overhead. “Go to the Darkblaze roost, one of my scouts will take you to Anima.” He turned his eyes back to the woman and clapped an armored forearm across his chest. “Good hunting.”
The woman bowed and turned away, striding towards the place she had arrived at the beginning of her stay in Thestalos’s realm.
___________________________
A sword clattered to the floor. Neo stabbed upward, shoving his knife through the Goblin’s chin. It sagged in his grip, like a deflated weather balloon. He shoved the corpse to the ground, spitting on it.
Sable leaned against the north wall, clapping his hands. “Very good, Neo. You’ve come a long way.”
Neo turned towards the bone-mask, rage radiating off his face and neck. “You led me into this! Why am I following your lead?”
“You direct questions at me that you should be asking yourself. I merely hold open the door. It is you who chooses to step through.”
“But you choose which doors to hold open, damn it!” Neo growled. “Your messages are inconsistent, Sable! Admit it!”
The fiend shrugged his shoulders, throwing up his hands. “All right. My messages are inconsistent.” He smiled at the seething swordsman. “That was painless, wasn’t it?”
“Damn it! You have no idea how infuriating that is!”
Sable’s chest shook with silent mirth. “That’s right. I have no idea.”
Neo lunged towards his mentor, throwing a hard right at the bone mask. Sable rotated around the attack and ended his movement behind the swordsman, pushing him into the wall. Neo’s hand touched the base of his neck, and he hissed as his shoulder popped.
“Good. That’s good.” Sable whispered, his voice deathly quiet. “Use that anger. But focus it. If you allow it to simply flow, you are nothing. Only when it is honed to razor sharpness does it become a lethal weapon.”
Neo fell to his knee as Sable backed away. “I only hold open the door.” The fiend pushed a hidden switch and one of the walls slid aside.
The blond swordsman nodded slowly and rose to his feet, stepping through the yawning portal. A small smile graced the flesh beneath the bone as Sable followed his pupil.
___________________________
A black cloud sat on the edge of the lava field, waiting for a western wind to blow it into the volcanic region, towards victory. The creatures that composed the cloud flexed claws, sharpened weapons, and prepared for the worst.
“When do you think our lordship will get here?” The green-armored warrior asked, swinging his katana experimentally. He looked over at his companion.
“When it pleases him to do so.” The reply was low, soft, a lover’s whisper, spoken through pale lips hidden behind a high black collar. The man raised his head, baring a pair of razor like fangs in what seemed to be a benevolent smile.
“I hope it pleases him soon.” Mataza turned away, fighting back the shudder that threatened to grip his body every time he spoke with Daemon. Why do I talk to this guy? “I’m getting bored.”
“Don’t worry.” The vampire murmured seductively. “I believe he’ll be here soon.”
“Good.” Mataza climbed up a hill of pumice. “I’m going to go check on the troops.”
“Very well.” The samurai was sure he saw Daemon wink. “I’ll be here.”
That guy makes my skin crawl. Mataza dropped to his knees as soon as he was out of sight, stabbing his weapon into the ground. I wish Sable were here. At least then I’d have someone to talk to. He pulled his steel headband off and massaged his temples.
Suddenly the air around him swirled violently, throwing the samurai’s hair in all directions. A giant beast flew overhead, circling once before coming to a stop over the front line. Each time the creature beat its wings a new typhoon swept through the ranks, tousling hair and toying with cloaks. The monster’s wings were ribbed with red flame, and it opened its gigantic beak, unleashing a bloodcurdling scream.
“Today,” A voice spoke, seemingly from everywhere and nowhere all at once, “Is a glorious day. Today we march on the land of the Firestorm Monarch, Thestalos. Today we will crush the heart of this land and take it for our own, as we did in the mountains before.” The beast lowered its head and its passenger stood, looking down on his warriors. Caius raised a vibrant purple scimitar over the army, and the entire company seemed to swell with vigor. “Today we march to victory!”
The army roared and, as the mammoth bird whirled, it moved, lurching towards its distant prey deep in the volcanic realm.
___________________________
The sound of clanking armor filled the air. Thestalos watched as his red-skinned beast warriors strapped on heavy armor and hefted obsidian-tipped spears, piling into the trenches built by the Lava Golems. The king moved back to the cover of his base, a bunker melted into the stone and reinforced by four large steel cannons.
“Are your scanner modules functioning properly?” The monarch asked as he stepped around the keyhole-shaped depression in the floor of the chamber.
“They are all working at maximum capacity.” The speaker sat in a carved stone chair, situated in the tooth of the hole. A thick crimson hood hid his face, and his body was swathed in the same material. Golden piping crossed the robe at seemingly random angles, and his staff, a double-pronged steel scythe, was propped in the corner next to him. “Once the battle begins you will have a complete tactical map.”
“Good. Thank you, Vim.”
The mage nodded, the expression muted by his hood. “I am here to assist.”
Thestalos looked out the transparent windows at his soldiers, ready for battle, and past them, at the advancing horde. “When I was young I used to fantasize about the romance of combat. I looked on battle as a pleasurable hobby.” He snorted softly. “I was so foolish.”
“Many of us shared such fantasies, my lord.” Vim weaved his hands in front of his body, forming a latticework of pale blue light. He spun his hand and projected it along the walls of the ditch.
“Indeed.” Lightning flashed in the distance, and Thestalos imagined he could see the individual monsters that made up the swarm, marching unstoppably towards his home. “If only this were one of those child’s games.”
___________________________
A cutting breeze smacked Neo in the face like a handful of needles, and he gripped the Cyber Dragon’s spine tighter. He and Sable rode astride the mechanical serpent up high into the mountains. The stony cliff flew past on his left, while on his right Balter’s fortress shrank into a pinprick.
“We’re nearing the Pitch-Dark Dragon’s roosting place!” Sable shouted over his shoulder, his voice barely discernable above the din of rushing wind.
“Goodie!” Neo yelled back, though he was sure his mentor couldn’t hear him. He wasn’t sure why they had suddenly decided to go up on this little scenic trip, though he had no doubt it would be something painfully educational. As the dragon rose to a smooth plateau and touched down, he slipped off the creature’s back and crouched. He fingered the grip of his sword, newly acquired from Balter’s smithy.
A prickle ran up the length of his spine, and he turned to see the dragon lifting off behind him. Before he could grab onto it, the beast moved away from the cliff, hovering in midair about two-dozen feet away.
“No! Sable! What are you-“
Sable shrugged. “Sorry, Neo. This you have to do on your own.”
“No, but – No! Why? What am I even supposed to be doing?” Neo toyed with the idea of trying to jump to the dragon and strangle his dear friend, but cast it aside just as quickly as he’d picked it up.
“All you need to do is climb to the Dragon’s roost, get something to prove that you’ve been there, and come back down.” Sable offered him a bright smile. “Easy, right?”
“Somehow, I get the feeling I’m going to hate you very shortly.” Neo growled.
Sable laughed, his voice like tinkling bells. “A very likely conclusion. But now I must leave you. Good luck.”
“No, wait!” It was too late. The dragon dove back towards the bottom of the mountain, disappearing through the clouds. Neo fell to his knees on the edge of the cliff and screamed a violent obscenity at the heavens.
___________________________
Neo scrambled up another sheer rock face, cursing as he did so. His hands were raw and blistered, his lips chapped, and his muscles screamed for relief. Still, he pressed onward, dragging himself up foot by foot, inch by inch. He had ditched his cloak several hundred feet below, after it had almost cost him his life. The wind howled past, prodding his numb limbs thoughtfully, as though testing to see if it could knock him off the wall yet.
The dragon’s roost was in sight now. Unfortunately, seeing the location and actually being there were two entirely different things, and Neo fervently wished he could reverse them immediately. He struggled up another four or five feet before a wind picked up, shaking him like a small child shakes a rattle. He gripped the rock wall with what little strength he had left and looked up once more.
An enormous black dragon flew up past the swordsman, landing on the lip of the roost above. Its claws broke some bits of stone away, and the loose fragments fell down towards Neo, a few bouncing off his tired body. The creature snorted once and disappeared into the cave beyond.
Well, this’ll make getting in interesting, the swordsman thought. Maybe next I’ll have to tame the thing. An icy ball formed in his gut. I’m probably going to regret thinking that.
___________________________
Mataza mounted a pumice hill and looked out across the battlefield. Thestalos’s forces were well entrenched. This would be a tough battle.
Well, it would be if our dear lordship fought fairly. But that’s not how conquerors win, is it? Mataza shook his head. He ran a hand along the fabric of his katana’s hilt, tracing small circles along its length. Beside him, Daemon drew a slender rapier from a sheath at his side.
“Give them no quarter!” The vampire howled. His voice thundered across the ranks like an avalanche striking a poorly constructed building. The army roared in response. Mataza swallowed, tightening his grip on the sword at his belt. Far overhead, the black phoenix circled, like a vulture bearing down on a carcass. The army surged forward, breaking into a run.
On the other side of the battlefield, Thestalos watched as Vim projected the map above the ditch. He clenched his fists as the representation of his brother bore down on him. He looked around at the warriors he stood beside, and drew courage from their determination. He uttered three words, which were followed by a roar of assent.
“Let them come.”
Thestalos’s head snapped back, flames bursting from the gaps in his armor. He inhaled violently, gripping his forehead with a steel-sheathed palm.
“Sir, what’s wrong?” His two bodyguards moved to his sides, concern evident in their voices.
The Firestorm Monarch leaned forward, massaging his neck with one hand. “Something is happening in the Mountain Kingdom.” He stroked his chin. An icy chill was worming its way down his spine. “Deploy the Darkblaze Dragons. I want them to conduct a flyover of Granmarg’s realm.”
“It will be done.” One of the guards hurried off while the other remained, hovering uncertainly next to Thestalos’s throne.
“I am fine, Spirit. You may return to your post.” Thestalos rose from his seat, shrugging his shoulders in an effort to banish the chill that still clung like a parasite to his flesh. Unsuccessful, he set out at a brisk pace for the Liase.
The Liase was situated in the tallest tower of Thestalos’s fortress. As the monarch stepped into the chamber, runic symbols began to spread along the walls and floor, casting green, blue, red, and gold light into the surrounding area. Five pillars ringed the center of this room, still unlit. Thestalos stepped out into the nucleus of the Liase. As his feet touched the floor, red runes traced their way out from his steel boots, reaching to the perimeter of the pentagon. At the same time, three of the five towers began to shine, radiating unique colors: the first to the Firestorm Monarch’s left, gold, and then third to the left, blue. The fourth, behind him, shone green. As the arcane symbols crept up their respective hosts, ghostly figures were projected into the air, hovering a few feet off the ground, in front of the pillars.
“My brothers.” Thestalos spoke, addressing the shades.
“Thestalos.” Rumbled the blue specter, his voice as frosty as his visage. “So I was not the only one to feel it.”
“No, brother.” This voice came from the green one. He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, causing his cloak to flutter dramatically. “I had hoped to find none of you here, but…”
“Some are not present.” The golden image spoke, his voice quiet and pensive.
“Indeed.” Thestalos murmured. “I fear something has befallen our brother Granmarg.”
“We would have had warning, though, wouldn’t we?” The blue intoned, as though arguing would make it so. “A movement of any sort against any one of our lands would be a full-fledged campaign. How could Granmarg be besieged without our knowledge?”
The gold monarch remarked, “The Shadowpriestess is gone, too.”
All eyes turned to regard the vacant pillar. For many years the Shadowpriestess of Ohm had served as monarch ‘pro tempre’, after Caius was banished. Her absence indicated that something had gone horribly wrong in the Shadow Kingdom, land of spirits and the dead.
“I have ordered my scouts to investigate the Realm of the Mountain King. I suggest that we marshal our armies, prepare for assault on our own lands.”
The ice monarch crossed his arms. “If treachery has befallen our fellow king, then we should take the fight to him.”
“Calm yourself, Mobius.” The green snapped. “If vengeance must be dealt, it shall be done swiftly, but until then, have patience.”
Mobius snorted. “I merely offered a suggestion.”
“Nevertheless, Raiza is right. We must be patient. Rushing into this will only aggravate the situation – whatever it may be.” Thestalos rubbed the back of his neck again. He turned towards the golden figure. “Zaborg, you have always had a sense for seeing through the darkness. Can you see anything now?”
Zaborg was silent for a long moment. “I can only see flashes – images, bits and pieces of the future. Nothing is clear.”
The others nodded. “As soon as my scouts report back, I shall relay their findings to each of you,” Thestalos let his fire seep through the gauntlet on his left hand. He placed it on his chest. The others mirrored the gesture, and two of them faded away, their pillars growing dark.
“Will you require reinforcements?” Mobius asked. “Your kingdom is closest to Granmarg’s.”
Thestalos sighed. “Even if I were to accept your offer, I doubt they would get here in time.”
“My warriors can be in your realm in two days. You can hold out that long, can’t you?” The Frost Monarch almost seemed to be pleading with his brother. Thestalos shook his head.
“I fear your soldiers will be needed in your land soon enough, brother. Save your strength.”
Mobius vibrated with rage or frustration, Thestalos couldn’t tell which. “You are asking me to abandon my blood brother. I cannot do that.”
“No. I only ask you to honor his wishes.”
The Frost Monarch exhaled sharply, and Thestalos could practically feel the chill radiating off of him. “Very well.” He regained his composure. “I will honor your request.” He gave a slight bow. “Good hunting, brother.”
Thestalos nodded. “Good hunting.”
The lights in the chamber dulled into blackness.
___________________________
“A great warrior does not fear pain.” Sable struck with his chain, the steel ripping into Neo’s side and producing a brilliant spray of red ichor. The swordsman barely flinched, moving in closer to attack his opponent with his bare hands. “But he does not ignore it.”
Neo struck with his left hand, and Sable seemed to stagger back, but before the blonde warrior could move in for the kill, a viper coiled around his throat. Sable yanked the chain and rolled back, taking the younger man down with him. As the masked man came up, he planted a foot on Neo’s sternum and pulled his weapon back. Neo choked, frantically grabbing at the chain with both hands.
“Pain is not something to be feared, but it is something to be heeded.” Sable lectured as Neo struggled. “You must learn to hear your pain without being deafened by it.” Neo wrapped an arm around the chain and dropped his elbow to his chest, taking some of the pressure off his neck. Sable leaned back, dragging Neo to his feet. As the swordsman freed himself of the chain, Sable struck him in the face with an open hand, and then curved his fingers, dragging the claw down his cheek and neck to his collarbone, where they dug savagely into his skin. Neo fell to one knee as Sable dropped his weight on the sensitive point beneath his middle finger.
“You must learn to be subtle.” The hand darted up to Neo’s jaw and stabbed its thumb into the space where the bone connected with the rest of the skull. There was enough force behind that blow to knock Neo onto his back. “You must learn to use every weapon in your arsenal. Remember, there is no such thing as fairness in combat.”
Neo unleashed a blaze of lightning from his index finger. Sable stumbled back as the swordsman rolled to his feet. They met in the middle of the darkened chamber, stepping across the splashes of light flowing from the long, narrow windows in the east wall of the room. Everything around the two of them became immaterial as they clashed, fist on fist. The fight was their universe.
___________________________
Thestalos’s boots beat a steady rhythm against the volcanic rock beneath his feet as he stepped out onto the lava floe where his Darkblaze scouts were just landing. His heart quickened as a human female clad in segmented silver armor and carrying an enormous greatsword strapped over her shoulder leapt down off one of the dragon’s backs. She knelt as the Firestorm Monarch approached.
“I know you, human.” Thestalos stopped a few feet away, folding his massive arms across his chest. “You served under my brother Granmarg.”
“Yes, my lord. My name is Émigré. I bring grave news of my master’s fate.”
“He is dead.” Thestalos turned away. “As I feared.”
“No, my lord.”
Thestalos whirled, flames leaping from beneath his shoulder plates. “What?” He strode forward and grabbed Émigré by the shoulders, lifting her to her feet. “Explain this.”
“Lord Granmarg is imprisoned by Caius the Shadow Monarch.” Émigré’s voice was taut with pain. “I tried to save him but I could not. Caius’s army is massive and well organized, and there are more than shades and ghosts behind him.”
“She speaks the truth, lord.” One of the Darkblaze Dragons rumbled from behind her. “We found her not far from the edge of the Mountain Kingdom, and we could go no further. The air there is patrolled by great beasts, and we dared not provoke them.”
Thestalos nodded tersely. He looked down and realized he was still gripping the woman’s shoulders tightly. He let go, backing off a step. “I apologize, Émigré. You are not the subject of my anger.” He looked up at the sky above, dyed gold by the rising sun. “So, Caius has returned,” he murmured, almost to himself.
There was a moment of thick silence. After a moment Thestalos turned back to his scout, the question he had been dreading on the tip of his tongue. “How long do we have?”
“Caius’s army is less than a day from us now.”
___________________________
“No!” Mobius roared, tendrils of ice snaking between his fingers and freezing on his knuckles. “I will not submit to this!”
“It is the only way.” Thestalos sighed, steam coming from beneath his visor. Must he make this so difficult?
“Thestalos is right, Mobius,” came Raiza’s baritone, “We need to marshal our forces as one to defeat Caius. His warriors crushed Granmarg, they will do the same to us if we meet them in single combat.”
“You ask me to abandon my blood brother, Raiza!” Mobius thundered, evoking a blizzard around his heaving chest.
“Use your head, Mobius!” Raiza hissed, his golden eyes flashing. “Caius’s forces can thin yours with aerial assaults while still maintaining enough manpower to overrun Thestalos’s fortress.”
“Save your forces, brother.” Thestalos pleaded.
Mobius ignored the Firestorm Monarch, speaking to the green titan. “Simply because your blood brother is in no danger-“
“My blood brother is imprisoned, Mobius!” Raiza cut him off with a hurricane’s blast. “There is not a second in this past day when I have not feared for his safety! Do not presume to know my position!” The Frost Monarch sank into sullen silence as the storm quieted. “You know the right course of action. For once, follow your mind instead of your heart.”
“It is better this way.” Thestalos breathed. “You must be ready for war on your own lands.”
Mobius shook his head. “No. I will marshal my forces to meet Caius’s army, but they will never set foot in my kingdom. You, my brother,” here his voice became an icy whisper, “will live to see the day we crush the Shadow Monarch and his disciples.” His eyes locked with Thestalos’s, holding them in a steel vicegrip. “Swear it to me, brother.”
Thestalos nodded. “I swear it.”
Mobius inclined his head slightly and stepped back. His pillar’s light faded into nothing.
Thestalos turned to the other two Monarchs. Raiza spoke first. “We’ll repay the traitor tenfold.”
Nodding, Thestalos raised a hand. “Good hunting, brothers.”
Raiza placed a forearm across his chest and bowed at the waist, “Good hunting.” Zaborg cocked his head to one side, and then disappeared, his pillar darkening. Raiza followed suit, leaving the Firestorm Monarch alone in the shadowy chamber.
The fire giant sighed. “It’s time.” He clenched his fists, allowing his rage to build. Flames burst from the gaps in his armor, and a lattice of fire tangled around his forearms. He looked towards the empty pillar where Caius would have stood, had he still been among their number, and raised his hand, spraying an infernal geyser into its center. The conflagration licked at the black stone, warming its surface, but dealing no real damage. With a snarl, Thestalos added his other hand’s firepower to the stream. A wildfire spread up his shoulders, silhouetting his helmet in a crimson glow. He gritted his teeth and let all his anger pour out through his palms.
The black stone that was the target of his assault continued to weather the storm. As Thestalos’s inferno died down, the pillar stood, unharmed. The Firestorm Monarch touched his hand to the ebony rock. Its smooth surface was warm, but did not chip or bleed any residue. Frustrated, Thestalos threw an aggressive punch. The impact resounded throughout the chamber, but the pillar didn’t budge. Breathing heavily, Thestalos turned away and strode toward the exit.
___________________________
Neo carefully negotiated the log bridge over the water-filled basin below. The chamber he navigated had an intricate maze of wooden slates leading – eventually – to a stone platform in the middle of the artificial lake. Some of the slates were loose, designed to flip when too much weight was put on one side or the other. At other points heavy bags of sand suspended from the ceiling by thick steel chains swung over the walkways, giant pendulums threatening to tip an unsuspecting creature into the water several dozen feet below. The entire assembly was supported by a series of wooden stakes that went all the way to the bottom of the lake.
Just behind Neo, Sable moved with feline grace, occasionally turning and swinging his weapon at their pursuers.
Neo stepped carefully onto the next wooden board, testing to see if it was stable. Satisfied, he turned back to Sable, who was parrying a stroke from one of the Goblin Elites. “It’s safe!” He called.
“I know it’s safe! You need to move faster!” Sable roared, kicking the Goblin in the chest. The warrior slipped on a slick patch beneath his feet and rolled off the walkway, catching himself by the armpit and hanging, one handed, over the water ten feet below.
Neo turned back toward the stone platform and came face to face with a Goblin warrior, sword in hand. He ducked as the attacker swung his weapon, drawing his own sword as he did so. The Goblin evaded his horizontal stroke and closed the distance again.
Neo gasped as he nearly lost balance, and grabbed the Goblin’s sword arm for support. The warrior snarled, staggering forward as Neo twisted, flipping his stance and bringing his opponent’s right hand up to his left shoulder. In the same motion the blond swordsman fired a punch with his weapon arm, striking the green-skinned enemy in the center of the chest. Completely off-balance, the Goblin gave a shriek and tumbled into the murky blue mirror below.
Looking up, Neo saw that there was a fork in the walkway just ahead. Over it swung one of the villainous sandbags, carving an invisible scythe pattern in the air.
“Neo, watch out!” Sable shouted. Neo turned just in time to see a shimmering steel blade descending on his skull.
“Whoa!” Neo leapt back. The tip of the weapon nipped his cheek, and immediately a tiny dome of blood swelled and burst, trickling slowly down from the wound. Neo pin wheeled his arms and got back on balance, realizing too late that he stood just inches from the path of the sandbag, while the grinning Goblin advanced on him, sensing victory.
“Shit!” Neo breathed, swinging his blade in a wild arc, keeping his aggressor at bay for a moment. If he turned his back on the Goblin for even a second he would have a much better understanding of how a pig on a skewer feels, but he could not back into the sandbag’s path, since the walkway split just beyond it. On an adjacent bridge, Sable was expertly fending off two attackers, his ebony greatsword carving half-moon arcs in the air.
The Goblin closed on its prey, a pale tongue snaking from its jaws to lick its dry, chapped lips. The blade had tasted blood, and could not be sheathed until its hunger was satisfied.
At the last possible moment Neo turned, not to dive past the sandbag, but to leap up onto it, wrapping his right leg around its neck, where the chain gripped it like a vise. He grabbed the steel cord with his left hand and craned his neck to look down at his astonished opponent. As the bag swung back, Neo struck with his sword, adding his momentum to that of the pendulum. The Goblin parried the stroke, knocking Neo’s blade from his hand, but misstepped during his recovery and dropped off the edge of the bridge with a strangled cry.
Neo spun from the force of the blow, releasing the bag and dropping onto the left fork with a crash. He groaned and climbed unsteadily to his feet, shaking off the dizziness. Where he was the boardwalk descended almost to the water level, ending in a wide wooden platform that had other walkways branching off from it, one going directly to the center platform where his goal rested.
Breaking into a run, Neo thundered up the bridge toward the stone pillar. He was only a few yards from his goal when the ground gave way beneath his feet.
Neo’s fingertips brushed the wood of the platform before he plunged into the lake below. Water soaked his padded tunic and trousers, tugging him down toward the bottom. For a few moments he floundered, panicking as the air drifted farther and farther away.
Sharp claws ripped into Neo’s lungs, and he opened his mouth to scream – and suddenly he realized the only thing he had to fear was his own mind-numbing paralysis. He closed his eyes and let the terror slip away into the chilly water around him. A few seconds later he was awake, calm and collected. The swordsman drew a knife from its sheath on his thigh and sliced the chest of his tunic open with practiced ease. As the heavy garment sank into the depths below, Neo clenched the blade between his teeth and kicked his way to the surface.
As the swordsman’s head broke the surface, sweet air poured into his lunges. He reveled in the blessed rejuvenation for a moment before returning his attention to his goal.
He was only a few feet from the poles that held the faulty board above the water. To get back onto the boardwalks he would have to swim back to the low platform some fifty feet away, or –
Neo grabbed one of the poles in both hands and flexed his biceps, lifting himself out of the water. He placed his feet on either side of the stick and pushed up, alternating between arms and legs to scramble up the pole like a monkey. As he reached the top he turned so his back was facing towards the stone platform ten feet away. Gauging the distance, he kicked off the pole and turned in midair, his chest striking the edge of the platform.
The wind left Neo’s lungs and he just barely managed to catch himself by his armpits, the impact threatening to wrench his limbs from their sockets. He hung there for a few moments, panting heavily, before swinging his leg up onto the stone and rolling onto his back. Looking up from his position on the ground, he saw his goal, a carved ivory chest, only a few feet away.
Neo struggled to his feet. He was dimly aware of the ringing of steel on steel as he approached the chest that was his goal. However, when he was almost close enough to touch the bone-white box, a disquieting click ripped into his brain. He looked down and realized, with growing dread, that he had just run into another hidden trap, this one activated by his weight. Moments later the air filled with sound of rushing water, as several pipes on the walls he had not noticed before began to dump their payload into the lake, raising the water level at an alarming rate.
The swordsman dropped to one knee in front of the box and analyzed the lock. To open the chest he would need to align four steel pegs, each one with a different symbol on its head, in the proper order. However, on testing them, he found that only two came out at first, but after he freed one another was released from the lock’s grip. Gritting his teeth, he began testing combinations.
A body fell against the chest, jarring his concentration. Sable swung his weapon down, hitting the Goblin with the flat of the blade. There was a sickening crunch as the warrior’s chest plate buckled and his eyes rolled back in his head. His longsword slipped from his limp fingers to clatter on the stone floor.
Irritably, Neo shoved the Goblin off and slammed another peg into one of the slots. Sable’s sword sang shrilly as it passed uncomfortably low over Neo’s head, ruffling his hair with its passing. An unseen foe cried out in pain and dropped his weapon.
“Could you do that somewhere else, please?” Neo shouted, not looking up from his work. Sable didn’t reply, thought it was quite possible he had not heard the swordsman’s amiable request. Another Goblin shrieked, his howl followed by a muted splash.
Neo let out an exasperated sigh as yet another peg stuck, its progress blocked by an invisible latch. He was about to pull it free when something caressed his knee, like a cat scratching its ear on a chair leg. He looked down.
The water had risen up to the platform and was now slithering up on top of it, wrapping the combatant’s ankles in a cool embrace. His heart quickening, Neo ripped one of the pegs loose and jammed the uncooperative one into the vacant slot.
The lock clicked, and the chest swung open, revealing a valve-like handle, designed to be turned with one hand. The swordsman grabbed the cool steel and twisted, turning the bar crosswise. The flow of water ceased, and a door in the eastern wall slid open. Neo was about to holler in victory when another mechanical snap caused the exultation to stick in his throat. The water began to darken as a foreign substance billowed from several metal grates beneath its surface. It floated to the top as torches on the walls broke free of their braziers, falling towards the lake and igniting the black jelly that sat atop it.
Oil. Neo gulped. “Sable, I think we should go now.”
“Really?” Sable’s voice was level. “But things are just getting interesting.” He shoulder-rammed the last Goblin over the platform’s edge, where it sank under the weight of its heavy armor. Without another word he hurried out onto the now-submerged boardwalks, his sword slung over his shoulder. Neo followed close behind as the flames raced alone the water’s surface towards them. Several sandbags still swung across their path, but they avoided them with relative ease. However, they soon came to a point where the water was up to their armpits and it was all they could do to keep their feet on the bridge below. Meanwhile, the inferno continued to creep closer, its red-hot claws groping after them.
The two warriors dove through the portal, just as the fire closed over the water’s surface like a demon’s jaws. The door slammed shut, leaving them in utter blackness. For several minutes there was no sound other than Neo’s heavy breathing.
“Did we win?” The swordsman finally asked.
“Yes, Neo.” The masked man’s voice was tinged with humor. “We won.”
Brilliant white lights flashed on, revealing a bare stone chamber filled with armed Goblin Elites.
___________________________
Thestalos and Émigré walked side-by-side along a raised blade of volcanic rock, past pools of magma and dozens of workers who toiled on, impervious to the extreme heat. The smaller woman was sweating heavily; though she made no complaint she looked extremely uncomfortable.
As the fiery monarch and his guest strode past, a pair of Lava Golems, behemoth warriors bred in the hearts of volcanoes, slammed their fists down into the earth and sent a surge of molten rock through the softened stone ground, carving twin trenches just less than a meter deep. Several smaller creatures flitted around them, fashioning four-foot long spikes of obsidian and plunging them into the lips of the trenches, creating a prickly barrier against haphazard charges.
Behind these trenches another towering creature was settling into a depression in the pumice. This beast had a spearhead snout and a lattice of flame running along its shoulders. Its eight glittering diamond claws were caked with soft stone and dirt. It rose from the hole and signaled to its compatriots to dig the gap a little wider.
“Thank you, Émigré, for bringing advance knowledge of the Shadow Monarch’s tactics.” Thestalos stopped, crossing his arms. He gazed out across the field as his warriors prepared for battle.
“Of course, my lord.” Émigré bowed. “If I may be frank, though, I am not sure what you intend to gain by this preparation. Caius’s ground forces will be able to bypass this defense with ease.”
“I have two reasons for my actions.” Thestalos dropped to one knee and picked up a small chip of obsidian. “First, if Caius’s forces make a frontal ground assault I need some way to slow them down. Second, my soldiers need to be given hope. By digging in and entrenching, I am showing my warriors that we have a fighting chance.”
“It’s suicide.” Émigré whispered.
The monarch shrugged, inspecting the lump of rock in his hand. “Sometimes the only difference between victory and defeat is faith.” He tossed the stone into the lava several meters away, watching it skip twice before evaporating in midair. “I have another job for you. All the monarchs have been warned of Caius’s advance, but the humans need to be ready, in case he decides to strike against them as well. You must ride to Anima. Find the human general known as Freed, he is the only one with the skill to defend them.” He placed both hands on the woman’s shoulders. “I know this is a lot to ask of you so soon after seeing your home under Caius’s heel, but this must be done. I can think of no one better to carry this message.”
Émigré nodded. “I will not fail you, my lord.”
“Good.” Thestalos released her, looking up at the cloudy midday sky. Only a few solitary shafts of sunlight pierced the sulfuric fog that hung overhead. “Go to the Darkblaze roost, one of my scouts will take you to Anima.” He turned his eyes back to the woman and clapped an armored forearm across his chest. “Good hunting.”
The woman bowed and turned away, striding towards the place she had arrived at the beginning of her stay in Thestalos’s realm.
___________________________
A sword clattered to the floor. Neo stabbed upward, shoving his knife through the Goblin’s chin. It sagged in his grip, like a deflated weather balloon. He shoved the corpse to the ground, spitting on it.
Sable leaned against the north wall, clapping his hands. “Very good, Neo. You’ve come a long way.”
Neo turned towards the bone-mask, rage radiating off his face and neck. “You led me into this! Why am I following your lead?”
“You direct questions at me that you should be asking yourself. I merely hold open the door. It is you who chooses to step through.”
“But you choose which doors to hold open, damn it!” Neo growled. “Your messages are inconsistent, Sable! Admit it!”
The fiend shrugged his shoulders, throwing up his hands. “All right. My messages are inconsistent.” He smiled at the seething swordsman. “That was painless, wasn’t it?”
“Damn it! You have no idea how infuriating that is!”
Sable’s chest shook with silent mirth. “That’s right. I have no idea.”
Neo lunged towards his mentor, throwing a hard right at the bone mask. Sable rotated around the attack and ended his movement behind the swordsman, pushing him into the wall. Neo’s hand touched the base of his neck, and he hissed as his shoulder popped.
“Good. That’s good.” Sable whispered, his voice deathly quiet. “Use that anger. But focus it. If you allow it to simply flow, you are nothing. Only when it is honed to razor sharpness does it become a lethal weapon.”
Neo fell to his knee as Sable backed away. “I only hold open the door.” The fiend pushed a hidden switch and one of the walls slid aside.
The blond swordsman nodded slowly and rose to his feet, stepping through the yawning portal. A small smile graced the flesh beneath the bone as Sable followed his pupil.
___________________________
A black cloud sat on the edge of the lava field, waiting for a western wind to blow it into the volcanic region, towards victory. The creatures that composed the cloud flexed claws, sharpened weapons, and prepared for the worst.
“When do you think our lordship will get here?” The green-armored warrior asked, swinging his katana experimentally. He looked over at his companion.
“When it pleases him to do so.” The reply was low, soft, a lover’s whisper, spoken through pale lips hidden behind a high black collar. The man raised his head, baring a pair of razor like fangs in what seemed to be a benevolent smile.
“I hope it pleases him soon.” Mataza turned away, fighting back the shudder that threatened to grip his body every time he spoke with Daemon. Why do I talk to this guy? “I’m getting bored.”
“Don’t worry.” The vampire murmured seductively. “I believe he’ll be here soon.”
“Good.” Mataza climbed up a hill of pumice. “I’m going to go check on the troops.”
“Very well.” The samurai was sure he saw Daemon wink. “I’ll be here.”
That guy makes my skin crawl. Mataza dropped to his knees as soon as he was out of sight, stabbing his weapon into the ground. I wish Sable were here. At least then I’d have someone to talk to. He pulled his steel headband off and massaged his temples.
Suddenly the air around him swirled violently, throwing the samurai’s hair in all directions. A giant beast flew overhead, circling once before coming to a stop over the front line. Each time the creature beat its wings a new typhoon swept through the ranks, tousling hair and toying with cloaks. The monster’s wings were ribbed with red flame, and it opened its gigantic beak, unleashing a bloodcurdling scream.
“Today,” A voice spoke, seemingly from everywhere and nowhere all at once, “Is a glorious day. Today we march on the land of the Firestorm Monarch, Thestalos. Today we will crush the heart of this land and take it for our own, as we did in the mountains before.” The beast lowered its head and its passenger stood, looking down on his warriors. Caius raised a vibrant purple scimitar over the army, and the entire company seemed to swell with vigor. “Today we march to victory!”
The army roared and, as the mammoth bird whirled, it moved, lurching towards its distant prey deep in the volcanic realm.
___________________________
The sound of clanking armor filled the air. Thestalos watched as his red-skinned beast warriors strapped on heavy armor and hefted obsidian-tipped spears, piling into the trenches built by the Lava Golems. The king moved back to the cover of his base, a bunker melted into the stone and reinforced by four large steel cannons.
“Are your scanner modules functioning properly?” The monarch asked as he stepped around the keyhole-shaped depression in the floor of the chamber.
“They are all working at maximum capacity.” The speaker sat in a carved stone chair, situated in the tooth of the hole. A thick crimson hood hid his face, and his body was swathed in the same material. Golden piping crossed the robe at seemingly random angles, and his staff, a double-pronged steel scythe, was propped in the corner next to him. “Once the battle begins you will have a complete tactical map.”
“Good. Thank you, Vim.”
The mage nodded, the expression muted by his hood. “I am here to assist.”
Thestalos looked out the transparent windows at his soldiers, ready for battle, and past them, at the advancing horde. “When I was young I used to fantasize about the romance of combat. I looked on battle as a pleasurable hobby.” He snorted softly. “I was so foolish.”
“Many of us shared such fantasies, my lord.” Vim weaved his hands in front of his body, forming a latticework of pale blue light. He spun his hand and projected it along the walls of the ditch.
“Indeed.” Lightning flashed in the distance, and Thestalos imagined he could see the individual monsters that made up the swarm, marching unstoppably towards his home. “If only this were one of those child’s games.”
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A cutting breeze smacked Neo in the face like a handful of needles, and he gripped the Cyber Dragon’s spine tighter. He and Sable rode astride the mechanical serpent up high into the mountains. The stony cliff flew past on his left, while on his right Balter’s fortress shrank into a pinprick.
“We’re nearing the Pitch-Dark Dragon’s roosting place!” Sable shouted over his shoulder, his voice barely discernable above the din of rushing wind.
“Goodie!” Neo yelled back, though he was sure his mentor couldn’t hear him. He wasn’t sure why they had suddenly decided to go up on this little scenic trip, though he had no doubt it would be something painfully educational. As the dragon rose to a smooth plateau and touched down, he slipped off the creature’s back and crouched. He fingered the grip of his sword, newly acquired from Balter’s smithy.
A prickle ran up the length of his spine, and he turned to see the dragon lifting off behind him. Before he could grab onto it, the beast moved away from the cliff, hovering in midair about two-dozen feet away.
“No! Sable! What are you-“
Sable shrugged. “Sorry, Neo. This you have to do on your own.”
“No, but – No! Why? What am I even supposed to be doing?” Neo toyed with the idea of trying to jump to the dragon and strangle his dear friend, but cast it aside just as quickly as he’d picked it up.
“All you need to do is climb to the Dragon’s roost, get something to prove that you’ve been there, and come back down.” Sable offered him a bright smile. “Easy, right?”
“Somehow, I get the feeling I’m going to hate you very shortly.” Neo growled.
Sable laughed, his voice like tinkling bells. “A very likely conclusion. But now I must leave you. Good luck.”
“No, wait!” It was too late. The dragon dove back towards the bottom of the mountain, disappearing through the clouds. Neo fell to his knees on the edge of the cliff and screamed a violent obscenity at the heavens.
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Neo scrambled up another sheer rock face, cursing as he did so. His hands were raw and blistered, his lips chapped, and his muscles screamed for relief. Still, he pressed onward, dragging himself up foot by foot, inch by inch. He had ditched his cloak several hundred feet below, after it had almost cost him his life. The wind howled past, prodding his numb limbs thoughtfully, as though testing to see if it could knock him off the wall yet.
The dragon’s roost was in sight now. Unfortunately, seeing the location and actually being there were two entirely different things, and Neo fervently wished he could reverse them immediately. He struggled up another four or five feet before a wind picked up, shaking him like a small child shakes a rattle. He gripped the rock wall with what little strength he had left and looked up once more.
An enormous black dragon flew up past the swordsman, landing on the lip of the roost above. Its claws broke some bits of stone away, and the loose fragments fell down towards Neo, a few bouncing off his tired body. The creature snorted once and disappeared into the cave beyond.
Well, this’ll make getting in interesting, the swordsman thought. Maybe next I’ll have to tame the thing. An icy ball formed in his gut. I’m probably going to regret thinking that.
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Mataza mounted a pumice hill and looked out across the battlefield. Thestalos’s forces were well entrenched. This would be a tough battle.
Well, it would be if our dear lordship fought fairly. But that’s not how conquerors win, is it? Mataza shook his head. He ran a hand along the fabric of his katana’s hilt, tracing small circles along its length. Beside him, Daemon drew a slender rapier from a sheath at his side.
“Give them no quarter!” The vampire howled. His voice thundered across the ranks like an avalanche striking a poorly constructed building. The army roared in response. Mataza swallowed, tightening his grip on the sword at his belt. Far overhead, the black phoenix circled, like a vulture bearing down on a carcass. The army surged forward, breaking into a run.
On the other side of the battlefield, Thestalos watched as Vim projected the map above the ditch. He clenched his fists as the representation of his brother bore down on him. He looked around at the warriors he stood beside, and drew courage from their determination. He uttered three words, which were followed by a roar of assent.
“Let them come.”