It did not take long for the Rustborn to reach Gadium. They swarmed up and over the edges of the cliff where he stood, chittering and screeching in depraved delight. Gadium calmly closed the books he had been reading, carefully setting them down next to the black stone.
“We have to help him,” Alianna said. Her eyes scanned the mountain, searching for a way to get across. She dismounted, and began climbing down a slope of loose stones, dropping about ten feet to a small plateau below.
“I’d say stay here, but none of you seem particularly good at heeding my advice,” Doctor Professor said, a sly grin on his face as he disappeared over the edge of the mountain behind his captain.
“What, uh… what do we do?” Charlie asked.
“This is definitely not the boss fight,” Nate said.
They watched impotently as the battle unfolded. As the first of the Rustborn finally reached Gadium, he sent the beast flying into a deep ravine with a simple flick of the wrist. It clattered loudly to pieces as it smashed against the sharp rocks below.
More of the creatures reached him, but slammed headlong into a blue sphere of light that shimmered and rippled as they clawed like rabid wolves. If Gadium was troubled by their presence, he certainly did show it.
Twisting his wrists, his fingers began to glow, and searing bolts of white energy tore through several of the twisted creatures; their bodies shook and began to swell before bursting from the excess energy. Gore and metal rained across the slope where more Rustborn scrambled over the remains of their dead compatriots.
“If we don’t help, I’ll feel like a caitiff,” Sam said.
“Yes… a caitiff…” Nate said slowly.
“You know, if you don’t know what that word means, it’s okay.”
“I know that. But I know what it means.”
“What does it mean?”
Nate paused, his lips pursed. “Why don’t you tell me what you think it means first?”
Charlie laughed. “It means coward.”
“How would you know that? I’ve never even seen you read a magazine…”
Sam slid off her clacker, and grabbed her spear. “We definitely need better weapons.”
“Are we really doing this?” Charlie asked, gesturing to the battle below. “What about the first law?” Alianna had just reached the fray, and was diving and ducking blows so fast they could barely follow the movement. “Heck, I’m not even confident I could climb down to that ledge without falling to my death.”
“Don’t be so neurotic, Charlie,” Nate said as he climbed down from Garthim.
“Hey, my anxiety works. Ninety percent of the things I worry about never happen.”
“Let’s just see if we can even get over there,” Sam said, as she gracelessly slid down the slope on her butt.
The corpses surrounding Gadium were piled high. But his forcefield was beginning to strain under the constant, animalistic barrage of the Rustborn.
Doctor Professor finished his ascent and joined the battle, denting the iron beasts with tremendous swings from his mace, his shield pushing them to the stones below.
But still they came in endless waves, like a plague of locusts. Captain Stormbow, drenched in sweat and blood, continued her grisly dance, her spear rending metal and bone.
The Rustborn piled atop the sphere of energy surrounding Gadium, until his form disappeared from sight under the roiling mass of metal.
A flash of light blinded the three friends as they cautiously picked their way across a precariously narrow path along a sheer cliff wall. Charlie yelped and gripped the escarpment in terror.
The mass of Rustborn surrounding Gadium floated gently in a globe of limbs, gyrating as if gravity had ceased to exist. A burst of energy roared through the valley below as a bubble of white energy expanded outward, vaporizing all the flesh and organic material it came in contact with, stopping just short of Doctor Professor.
In the center stood Gadium, his nose bleeding, and a deep gash in his side. His eyes flashed angrily.
“What do the Rustborn want with you?” Alianna asked as she dodged yet another rusted blade, the Rustborn howling as its long arms cut deep into the earth around her. “Why are they swarming this place?”
“The Oracle of Obridhur, before her death at the hands of Izozor the Decrepit, carved a prophecy into this black pillar. One that I believe holds the key to the destruction of the Conclave,” Gadium said, as he turned and blasted three more Rustborn as they crept over the lip of the ledge he stood on. “This is the fourth attack I have had to repel to protect these sacred words.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we came along,” Doctor Professor said as he swung his mace with a grunt, slamming a Rustborn into a nearby rock wall. It crumpled the stone with its impact, and tumbled down the mountainside.
At last, the beasts began to retreat. Gadium slumped to the ground in exhaustion as Alianna leaned heavily on her spear.
“Oh, grody,” Charlie said. He had stepped in the thick gooey flesh of one of the dead Rustborn. Thick strings of red and white goop hung from his foot to the mess that remained.
“You’d better wash that,” Sam said. “Or you might catch gonorrhea.”
“Catch gonorrhea? Isn’t that a brand of medicine that cures diarrhea?”
Alianna spat heavily before standing and approaching Gadium, who clutched a deep wound in his side.
“Captain Stormbow, it warms my heart to see you.”
“Likewise, my friend. I have missed you.”
They clasped forearms. Alianna leaned forward, touching her forehead to Gadium’s.
“And who might these three be?” Gadium asked.
“Travelers, strangers from another world. We believe the Aether brought them to us. That a time of crisis is upon the land.”
Gadium studied their faces. They could feel the warmth and power flowing from him, like tender waves of the ocean rolling over their bodies.
“Yes, I see,” he said, his brow furrowed in concentration. “And where is my friend, Elred - was she not able to accompany you?”
Alianna avoided his gaze, a lump in her throat.
Gadium’s eyes widened with understanding. “She has fallen into shadow.”
Alianna nodded, a tear leaving a streak in the blood and dust caked on her cheeks.
“The Queen of Storms,” Gadium said, his eyes darkening.
“I’m sorry,” Sam blurted out. “We were with her, but we didn’t… we couldn’t…”
She began to cry, and though Nate was surprised by the emotional outburst from his normally sarcastic friend, he too felt a deep, inexplicable sorrow at the loss of the woman whom they had hardly known. As if the world here mourned her death, the air and rocks and stones seemed to weep at the news.
A quick glance at Charlie, who was pretending he had something in his eye, let him know he was not alone.
Gadium’s eyes softened. “Do not despair. Despair is only for those who think they know the end from the beginning. But your tale is not yet written.”
Sam nodded, laughing, wiping her tears as she sniffed heavily.
“But, allow me to introduce myself,” Gadium said. “I am Gadium the Lightkeeper, Master of the Astral Circles, Magus of the Cosmos, Diviner of the White, Prophet of the Craft, Warlock of the Outer Realms.”
“I’m Charlie,” Charlie said, thrusting his hand out. Gadium shook it warmly.
“I’m Sam, and that’s Nate,” Sam said.
“It is a pleasure to meet you. Now tell me of your journey. How did you arrive in our world?”
Sam and Charlie both stared at Nate. He sighed.
After another lengthy retelling of their journey, Gadium pursed his lips.
“Our meeting is no coincidence,” he finally said. “The prophecy enshrined here, speaks of three-“ His voice faltered as he winced in pain.
Charlie saw blood still leaking from the wound in his side. “Doctor Professor?”
Gadium eyeballed Doctor Professor quizzically. “Have you changed your name, Qailz’risd’anth’freiv’ryn’th?”
“Apparently it was too hard to pronounce,” Doctor Professor said with a smirk. He closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. He eyes opened again. “The wound is not grievous, though I’m sure it is painful. Shall I heal it?”
Gadium looked at Nate. Looked into him might have been a better description, his piercing eyes bore straight through Nate, to his essence. It made him deeply uncomfortable.
“No, let the boy try. I sense something within him. I would learn more.”
Nate licked his lips. “That- I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Gadium smiled warmly. “You have a connection with the Aether. Though it is young, like a sapling, the only way to grow that connection is through practice.”
“Are you sure that is wise, Master Gadium?” Alianna asked.
“What if I mess up?”
“You won’t. Trust in the Aether. All will be as it should.”
Nate glanced nervously at his friends. He kneeled next to Gadium, placing his hands on the wound.
“Good, now concentrate. Reach out with your mind,” Gadium instructed. Nate felt the now familiar warmth in his chest, which grew in intensity until it felt like a fire. It was for more intense than before.
“Careful now,” Gadium said. “Not too much.”
Nate bit his lip, the sensation in his chest was intense. Overwhelming. His ears began to buzz. He could feel everything, feel the earth, the sky, the air.
“Lad,” Doctor Professor said nervously. “Pull back a bit. Stay focused.”
Nate tried his best, but felt his mind slipping. The Aether was overpowering. It spread like acid through his veins.
“That’s too much,” Gadium said. “Pull back, son.”
Nate tried, but the intensity only grew. Sam and Charlie stared wide eyed as Nate’s skin glowed from inside, revealing bones and veins.
“Nate?” Doctor Professor said.
More than anything, Nate wanted the feeling that was now rattling his teeth and buzzing his bones to stop. It was too much. His mind, his being was being stretched and filled, with power. That was the only word he could think of to describe it. Like drinking from a nuclear bomb.
“Oh, dear,” Gadium said softly, before exploding like a water balloon.
Chunks of what had once been Gadium splattered heavily to the dirt with a sickening wet slap. Nate stood, shell-shocked, covered from head to toe in crimson blood.
Alianna screamed as she peeled off a length of intestine that had stuck to the front of her armor, then turned and vomited.
Doctor Professor fell to his knees, his face slack in shock, blood dripping down his face and chest.
“Nate!” Sam screamed as she tried to wipe the carnage from her face. “What did you do?”
“I-I don’t know,” Nate stammered. “I don’t know, he said to heal him. I was trying to heal him.”
“Well I don’t think it worked!”
“It’s in my mouth!” Charlie gagged, spitting heavily. He retched as he spat out one of Gadium’s teeth that had made its way nearly down his throat.
“I told him I wasn’t ready,” Nate shouted. He stood, his hands shaking. “Doctor Professor, can you heal him?”
Doctor Professor shook his head sadly as he poked at half of Gadium’s right hand with his foot. “Not after that, no. There are limits to what even I can do.”
Nate stared in mute horror at the circular ring of gore his work had created.
“Don’t blame yourself, lad,” Doctor Professor said, still on his knees, his voice choked with emotion. “He is one with the Aether now.”
“Don’t blame yourself?” Alianna roared. “He just killed the wisest wizard in the Ten Kingdoms!”
“Gadium asked him to try,” Charlie said, finally able to see after wiping the thick blood from his eyes. “If Gadium is so wise, how come he’s so dead?”
Alianna stormed off, muttering several curses under her breath.
“Besides,” Charlie continued. “I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of him.”
Sam snapped a finger, slick with blood. “Right! Gadium the White. We meet again, at the turn of the tide.”
Doctor Professor listened, confused. “People don’t come back from the dead.”
“Sure they don’t,” Sam grinned. “Wink, wink.”
“I don’t know why you’re winking at me, and saying the word ‘wink’ at the same time,” Doctor Professor said as he slowly pulled himself to his feet. “But I want to be very clear: Gadium is dead, and he’s not coming back.”
“Sure he is,” Charlie said, clapping Doctor Professor on the back. “Super dead. For sure.”
Sam laid a hand on the obelisk. It was surprisingly cold to the touch, and was vibrating. “What does it say?” she asked.
“If it says the power of friendship is the true power to defeat the evil, or some other fantasy novel moral of the story bologna, I’m going to be upset,” Charlie grumbled.
“Why’s that?” Sam asked.
“Because you can’t murder someone with friendship.”
“O.J. Simpson would disagree.”
“The prophecy is written in Serzi, an ancient elven tongue,” Doctor Professor said. “I’m afraid I cannot read it.”
“I can,” Alianna said, as she led their clackers to the group. “It says that three travelers - sent by a fallen star, chosen warriors of the Aether - shall gather the greatest heroes of their age together, and find the lost heir of Brenius the Divine, the last of his royal bloodline.”
“The founder of the Soldiers of the Sun?” Charlie asked.
“Very good. You remember something I told you a few days ago,” Alianna said, annoyed at the interruption. “The heir shall take the power of their birthright, and turn the tide of the war between light and dark. The heir shall stop the virgin sacrifice needed to summon Behalah into our world. Then the chosen three shall restore balance to the Aether.”
“Behalah?” Charlie asked. “What’s a Behalah.”
“I do not know,” Alianna said.
“Is that it?”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Alianna nodded her head.
“Why did Gadium feel the need to defend the stone? Couldn’t he have written the prophecy down in one of his books and returned to Whitespire?”
“I don’t know. I’d love to ask him, but that’s not an option now, is it?”
Nate stared sheepishly at the ground.
“What are your orders, Captain?” Doctor Professor asked.
She glared up at the sky, mulling over their options. “We’ll return to Whitespire, and report to the Council of Kings. They must hear the words of prophecy, and learn of the demise of our beloved Gadium.”
#
Still sore from the return journey, the three friends once again found themselves standing uncomfortably before the Council of Kings.
“And so… despite Nate’s best efforts to heal his wounds, Gadium then… exploded,” Charlie said with some reluctance.
There was a stunned silence
“Exploded?” the Faceless King finally said. “What does that mean?”
“It means he’ll never not be exploded,” Charlie said. “He’s dead.”
“Gadium, dead?” the Snow Maiden said, her voice filled with sorrow. “Truly the forests and oceans shall mourn his passing.”
“A great light has gone out in the world,” the Child King said, his tears flowing freely.
“Yes, well, we all make mistakes,” Nate said. “It was my first day on the job. Let’s not be jerks about it.”
“Cheer up, Nate,” Sam said. “At least no one will ever hate you as much as you hate yourself.”
“Alianna, do you believe these three truly are the three warriors spoken of in the prophecy?” the Forest Shaman asked.
Alianna thought for an excruciatingly long time before speaking. “Despite my deep desire to find any other explanation or interpretation…” Her eyes lingered on Nate. “My, deep, deep desire… I do believe they are who the Aether chose to find the last heir of Brenius, and to restore balance to the Aether.”
The Council sighed in unison and fell silent.
“We’re not exactly thrilled about it either,” Sam said.
“I spoke with the Chamberlain of Mysteries,” Doctor Professor said. “His order believes the power of the heir’s birthright, referred to in the prophecy, is the fabled Hand of Brenius; Chaperone of the Cosmos.”
“His hand?” Sam asked.
Doctor Professor nodded. “A powerful relic of light, it is said to be the hand of Brenius the Divine himself, the only piece of his body that survived his terrible battle with Nihilus and his Stygian hordes.”
“Do we know where the hand is?” Nate asked.
“We do not. Long ago, it fell under the shadow of myth and mystery.”
“Swell. So if we find this heir, and the hand, do we know how to use it?”
Doctor Professor nodded. “On that, the Chamberlain of Mysteries was quite certain. The heir will need to bond with the hand.”
“Bond with the hand?” Charlie asked. “What does that mean exactly?”
“Well,” Doctor Professor said, clearly uncomfortable. “The, er… hand of the heir would need to be replaced with the Hand of Brenius, to access his power.”
“Replaced with?”
“Yes.”
“So, chop off the hand, and replace it with the artifact?”
“Yes,” Doctor Professor said. “According to the Chamberlain.”
“Hardcore,” Sam muttered under her breath.
“All of this is a moot point if we do not know where this virgin sacrifice is to take place,” Warlord said. “Or what this Behalah is that they seek to summon.”
“And how do you propose we discover the truth behind the prophecy?” the Prince of Lions growled.
“I have long proposed direct action against the Conclave,” the Golden Queen said. “Perhaps now is the time.”
“The Conclave is not to be trifled with,” the Lord of Shadows warned in his raspy whisper. “Though smaller in number, their combined might exceeds even that of the Soldiers of the Sun.”
“Do not be so hasty to cast aspersions upon our order,” Alianna said, a fire in her eyes. “We are the white line that stands between your kingdoms and the chaos that threatens to engulf these lands.”
“Did the Queen of Storms not slay Eldred Elebar?” the Snow Maiden said. “One of your finest soliders, according to your own estimation?”
The bickering continued for some time, the members of the Council competing to be heard, often resorting to shouting over one another.
“This is pointless,” Nate said to his friends. “Why are we even here?”
“It’s junior prom all over again,” Sam said.
“Should we go?” Charlie asked.
Nate shrugged. He turned to Doctor Professor, who was simply watching the arguments, a deep sadness in his eyes.
Nate tapped him on the shoulder. “If we were to try and track down this heir, where would we start?”
Doctor Professor’s concern melted into genuine admiration. “Well bless your heart, lad. I know that lot may not see it,” he said, nodding to the Council, “but you are a remarkable bunch. You owe us nothing. You are not from this world. If I had my druthers, we’d be trying to send you home, not on some wild quest to save the world.”
Nate, uncomfortable with any praise that isn’t sarcastic, kicked at the floor. “But you don’t know how to send us back.”
“Nay. Would that I could, my friend.”
“Then let’s summon him here, and question him!” Alianna shouted with a ferocity that startled even Charlie.
“Summon who?” Sam asked.
“The Magister of Rot,” the Eyeless Gladiator said. “Have you not been listening?”
“Why would she listen to our bickering,” the Golden Queen said. “This has nothing to do with the poor girl.” The Queen gazed at Sam with such intensity that it made her blush and question her sexuality.
“While I would not want to question your wisdom, Captain Stormbow,” Doctor Professor said. “What would be gained by forcing our enemy here?”
“With our combined efforts, we could bind him,” the Faceless King said. “Not indefinitely, but perhaps long enough to get answers.”
“You would invite his corrupting influence into the heart of my Kingdom?” the Prince of Lions bellowed.
“How do we know he would answer our questions?” the Lord of Shadows asked.
“We have ways of making him talk,” the Snow Maiden said, her frozen eyes glinting in the light. “We can be brutal if necessary.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Charlie said. “Bring on the brutality. The really weird stuff. Butt stuff.”
A silence fell over the room.
“We must put this to a vote,” the Child King finally said, his horrified eyes lingering on Charlie.
There were mumbles of ascent.
“Do we get a vote?” Sam asked.
“Are you a king?” the Warlord asked, his armor squeaking as he moved.
“There’s no reason to be rude,” Sam said. “In fact, Warlord, I’m giving you a zero for the day.”
He scratched his head in confusion, his thick fingers showering the floor with sparks.
“All in favor of summoning and binding the Magister of Rot, please show by the uplifted hand,” the Faceless King said. All of the council, except the Prince of Lions, raised their hands.
“Any opposed by the same sign.”
The Prince of Lions, along with Nate, Sam, and Charlie, raised their hands.
“Very well. How shall we proceed?”
Alianna opened the door and whispered a few words to either Peep or Plop - Nate wasn’t entirely sure which, but assumed he was being kind of racist as a result.
“Is this a good idea?” Nate asked Doctor Professor. A pinched mouth was the only answer he gave.
The door again opened, and ten Soldiers of the Sun, weapons drawn entered, their white armor shining brightly even in the thin light of the council chamber.
“Let us begin,” the Forest Shaman said. The council all grasped hands, their heads bowed and eyes closed in concentration.
A swirling wind formed at the center of the room. The air became heavy and frigid. Nate could suddenly see his breath as he exhaled nervously. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
The ring of soldiers around the room began to shift uncomfortably. Their armor squeaked as they gripped the shafts of their spears tighter. Every sound, every creak of leather, every sharp inhalation was magnified a thousand-fold.
The room darkened, as if something was drawing all the light away. Sam winced. It felt as though someone was kneeling on her stomach. The pressure was tremendous and made her gasp for air.
With a strange pop, a man appeared, floating upside down above the center of the table. He was quite tall, though his legs were folded neatly underneath him as though he had been sitting in meditation.
Where his head should have been, there was a massive elk skull, the bone bleached white. It was stained with syrupy black ichor that floated around him as though unaffected by gravity.
His skin was dried and cracked, his flesh peeled to reveal ruddy brown muscle and sinew, his blood running black and thick. He wore simple brown wrappings that were rotten and frayed around the edges. A long, black stain across his chest looked wet, though the foul odor he gave off ensured no one would be tempted to touch it to verify.
His hands were bound by some invisible force behind his back, his legs held tightly together, bent slightly at the knee. Next to him floated a white staff, the shaft of which had cracked in several places, covering the surface with a web of black lines. The tip held a black stone that gave off an eerily soft, gray light.
“This must definitely be the final boss…” Nate said.
“Why have you brought me to this place,” the Magister of Rot croaked, his deep voice burbling in his throat, as if he were drowning in muck and mire. Maggots and worms fell to the table as he spoke.
“We will ask the questions here,” snarled the Prince of Lions. “We’re in control, not you.”
The Magister of Rot laughed, a horrifying, churning sound that set Nate’s teeth on edge. “If the illusion of control comforts you ,my pet, then by all means cling to it.”
“Magister, it has been twenty years since the last conflict with the Conclave of Flame and Salt. For twenty years, peace has flourished in our lands. Why has the Conclave begun to sow their corrupting influence once again?” the Forest Shaman asked.
“Peace? I hate the word. Peace is a lie told by the small-minded so they can sleep at night. Life is crime, anger, jealousy, hate, theft, bloodshed, disease, earthquakes, split bellies, piles of rotted corpses. You speak of peace, where I see only the gorgeousness of decay.”
“Words, words, more words,” the Faceless King said. “Tell us, Magister, who is this Behalah you seek to summon.”
The Magister’s neck tightened dangerously as he continued to rotate slowly over the center of the table.
“Silence? From the great Magister of Rot?” the Golden Queen said, a wry smile on her face. “Perhaps we are not so ignorant as you assumed.”
The Magister of Rot floated in silence, studying them. Finally, he inhaled, a rattling, bubbling, wheezing sound, and spoke. “According to your holy writ, in the beginning there was chaos, darkness, the roiling raw material of all existence. Eloa, the Grand Architect, organized the matter into creation, and created the Aether, which binds the universe together.”
“Yes, we’re all familiar with the creation story,” an impatient Lord of Shadow said.
“We are?” Nate replied.
The Magister of Rot turned his empty eyed gaze on Nate. The pit of Nate’s stomach began to churn, and his stomach cavorted, as though something were squeezing his innards.
“You, I do not know,” the Magister said. “What are you?”
Nate tried his best to keep his voice steady. “Nobody important. Just a damp sack of potatoes who doesn’t want to be here anymore.”
“You three, I cannot see your place in the Aether,” he said. “We shall flay your skin and devour your bones and learn the secrets written on your inward parts.”
“Well, now you’re not invited to my birthday party,” Charlie said.
The Magister continued to study Nate’s face. Nate couldn’t help but shudder in the presence of this revolting, unnatural thing.
“Your scripture is incomplete,” the Magister finally continued, turning his attention back to the Council of Kings. “For the chaos was not empty.”
There were snorts of derision.
“Blasphemy,” said the Snow Maiden. “Why are we listening to this fool?”
“Are you truly so blind, that you cannot see the duality of creation?” the Magister answered. “There is no light without dark. No joy without sorrow. No peace without war. No sweet without bitter. No order without chaos. And yes, even God cannot exist without Anti-God.”
“And this is who-” the Child King hesitated as he spoke. “-or what, Behalah is?”
“And the wisdom of a child shall bring them to the light,” the Magister of Rot chuckled repulsively. “Eloa did not create the Aether. The Aether, like matter unorganized, is eternal. It has no beginning, and therefore has no end. Eloa is the physical embodiment of the light side of the Aether. Behalah, her twin, the physical embodiment of the dark side.”
“You lie!” the Prince of Lions shouted, slamming his clawed fist onto the table.
“So you say.”
“So the Conclave seeks to summon this Behalah creature to our world?” Alianna asked, her voice shaking as she barely contained her rage in this creature’s repulsive presence.
“Too long have the forces of order and light dominated this plane of existence. It is time for darkness to reign.” The Magister’s voice began to grow in volume as he spoke. “And in those days, the earth shall weep, and the worms shall feast upon the Children of Kadmon.”
“Silence, foul beast!” the Golden Queen demanded.
“For behold, Behalah, the great devourer, destroyer of worlds, shall sit upon the broken throne of Eloa. Desolation is at hand.”
“Enough!” the Warlord shouted, standing to his full height, the top of his great helmet scraping the stone ceiling. “Tell us where the sacrifice is to take place!”
The Magister of Rot suddenly righted himself in the air, his hands and legs freed from whatever invisible force had been holding him prisoner, his left hand grasping his staff.
“Well, that can’t be good,” Charlie said.
There was an eruption of chaos as Alianna and her soldiers sprang into action, lunging forward onto the table.
“Despair, oh ye inhabitants of the earth, the day of death is come.” The Magister, with a flick of his wrist, sent Alianna and her soldiers flying across the room. Two slammed into the Warlord, knocking him to the ground where they lay crumpled.
“The beast that lives in the shadow shall appear,” the Magister said as he floated to the end of the table. His toes dragged across the wood until he stopped in front of the Golden Queen, who stared up in defiance.
“The Conclave shall finish what Nihilus, the fallen star, began,” The Magister’s body creaked and groaned as he lowered himself to a single knee, and leaned his face close to hers.
“Chaos reigns,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he held a hand up, as if he were going to touch the Golden Queen’s gilded face.
Her expression of rage began to crack as she blinked heavily. Panic washed over her face as her cheeks sunk and her skin withered, as the liquid was drained from her flesh. She choked and gasped, her mouth open in a vain attempt to breath.
The Snow Maiden screamed as black liquid began to pour from the Golden Queen’s mouth, eyes, nose, and ears. Her body convulsed as her now rotten innards poured out of her orifices, sloughing to the ground with a sickening wet slap.
The empty husk of her body collapsed to the ground. The Prince of Lions roared as he drew his mighty battle-axe and swung at the Magister, who stepped calmly backwards out of the path of the sharp weapon.
The Prince of Lion’s attack was joined by the Eyeless Gladiator whose long swords cut deep into the thick wood tabletop as he stalked toward the Magister. It appeared to Nate as though the Magister could see the attacks coming a mile away. There was no haste to his movements. He almost casually dodged each attack as the two kings pressed their assault from the edge of the table.
Sam cleared her throat. “Boy, now sure would be a great time for Gadium the White to save the day.”
The Lord of Shadows, as silent as a whisper, glided across the table and charged the Magister, drawing several small, black blades as he ran.
The Magister turned as the Lord of Shadows plunged both daggers directly into his chest.
The brief look of triumph on the Lord of Shadows face disappeared as the Magister of Rot calmly stared down at the two blades, buried to the hilt, protruding from his torso.
His gaze returned to the Lord of Shadows. “Such a shame. I sense much potential in you.”
The Lord of Shadows, his motions so fast Sam could hardly follow them, drew two more blades and sunk them into the Magister’s sides.
The Magister laughed is fetid laugh. His right hand shot out, grasping the Lord of Shadows by the throat, lifting him off the ground.
The Prince of Lions and the Eyeless Gladiator climbed atop the table, but the Magister of Rot swung his staff in a sweeping motion behind him, releasing a wave of force that knocked half the room to the ground.
He continued to squeeze the Lord of Shadow’s neck. Charlie felt sick; he could hear the cracking sound of his windpipe as the Lord of Shadows kicked and punched at the Magister. Finally, he hanged limp, his eyes distended and bulged with broken blood vessels.
“Enough!” Alianna shouted, as she jumped onto the table.
The Magister turned to her, tilting his head curiously. “Alianna Stormbow, we meet at last,” he said, as he tossed the Lord of Shadows to the floor, where he crumpled into a heap. “The Queen of Storms has told me so much about you. Tell me-”
His words were interrupted as Alianna, her face a tempest of fury, waded wordlessly into battle. Her spear crackled with energy as she swung low, causing the Magister to step back. Twisting her spear, she followed up with a rapid series of thrusts so ferocious even the Magister seemed taken aback as he was forced to dodge and block with his staff.
The power and energy that Alianna exuded was palpable as she pressed her attack, until she finally connected with the Magister’s right leg, cutting a deep gash down his thigh that sizzled and smoked.
The Magister staggered back. He slid his thumb down the wound in his leg, collecting thick brown blood as it oozed out of his wound. “I’m glad you live up to your reputation. I was-” Again, Alianna cut him off with a ruthless series of strikes.
“You talk too much.” She swung her spear in an arc over her head, the tip of her blade searing the stone roof, leaving a black trail along the white stone. The Magister barely brought his staff up in time to deflect the blow. The momentum of her spear sliced a deep gouge into the table, narrowly missing his left foot.
She spun, ducking a swing from the Magister’s staff. Twirling her spear around her neck, she nearly took the Magister’s head clean from his shoulders. He ducked at the last second, but her blade sliced one of his mammoth horns free, sending it across the room where it clattered to the ground.
The Magister roared in anger, and thrust his free hand out. A blast of inky black liquid shot toward Alianna. She held up her spear, which deflected the secretion. It split into four arcs that spattered across the room, dissolving stone and wood.
She was braced for the impact, but the force of the energy slid her backwards. Her boots scrapped loudly on the table. The Magister suddenly relented, throwing Alianna off balance.
She pitched forward into a roll, and launched herself spear-first toward her enemy. The Magister side-stepped her attack, and blasted her exposed side with another bolt of dark energy. Alianna flew across the room, crashing into the far wall.
Alianna slowly pulled herself to her feet. Sam could see the gaping hole in her armor, its edges glowing orange and dripping melted metal to the floor. Her flesh was charcoal, and several broken ribs jutted out of the burned flesh at odd angles. Still, Alianna stood, unrelenting in her anger.
The Magister of Rot raised his staff over his head, clutching it with both hands. The room seemed to pull in toward him, light bending toward the black stone in his staff.
The room crackled with energy and power, Sam covered her ears, hoping that she could block out the vibrations in her skull.
Doctor Professor appeared behind the Magister, speaking in the guttural language of the Ancients, his hands moving through a rapid series of strange motions as blue trails of energy hung in the air behind his fingers.
He slammed his fist into the table at his feet, and a line of blue light rattled through the polished surface, surrounding the Magister, who stared in confusion before falling through the table.
Doctor Professor clapped his hands, and the energy portal he had created slammed shut with a loud crack.
He collapsed to the ground, his shaggy white hair stuck to his soggy brow.
The room was silent, except for the heavy pants of the battered warriors.
“Well, that guy, if you’ll pardon my French - was a real jerk,” Charlie deadpanned.
“The Lord of Shadows and the Golden Queen are dead,” the Snow Maiden said, her voice faltered. “And we learned nothing. What a waste.”
Alianna staggered to her knees. Blood rained from her wound. “We learned plenty,” she gasped as Doctor Professor laid his hands on her side.
Nate couldn’t help but wince as he watched her ribs pop and crack and recede back into her flesh. She cried out in pain as the threads of her muscle twined back together.
“Sorry, lass,” Doctor Professor said softly.
“How can you say that?” Warlord demanded.
She grimaced, her words filtered through grit teeth. “We know they plan to summon Behalah. We know there will be a ritual. And we know that the prophecy spoke true. The heir of Brenius the Divine will be found.”
Her iron gaze fell upon the three friends. “By these three.”
The Council of Kings all stood in the ruined council room, staring at the three them.
Nate cleared his throat. “Listen, I don’t mean to question your religion. But…” He glanced over at his friends, whose faces reflected his own terror. “Are you sure you have the right people?”
“The prophecy clearly-” the Faceless King began.
“I know. I know what the prophecy says,” Nate interrupted. “But we’re just kids. Sam here has the personality of a human who failed the Turing test. Charlie’s the kind of guy who pulls his pants all the way down to his ankles when he uses the urinal, and I’ve been described to my face as a professional idiot on at least four occasions. Do you really trust the fate of the world to three soggy muffins like us?”
“No,” Alianna said. “No, I don’t.”
“Thank the gods,” Sam said.
“But what I want - what we want - is immaterial,” Alianna continued. She walked toward them, full of menace.
Nate and Charlie shrank under her glare. Only Sam met her gaze, undeterred.
“The Aether wills it,” Alianna said, her voice barely a whisper. “And by Eloa I shall see it done. No matter whose blood I have to spill.” Her eyes locked with Sam’s. “Yours or my own.”
Alianna turned abruptly, and marched out of the room, shoving the doors open in a fit of rage.
“Where are you going, Captain Stormbow?” the Child King called after her.
“To prepare for war,” she said as the doors slammed shut behind her.
“Now what?” Charlie asked.
The Forest Shaman approached them. “This is your quest. Your fate. Your destiny. The aether wills it so.” She hesitated for a moment. “Perhaps…” Her hand went other mouth; she drew her delicate, thin finger across her pursed lips as she thought. “Perhaps the Quorum of Trees will speak to them.”
“The Quorum has been silent for ages,” the Prince of Lions growled. “If they will not speak to us, what hope have these three?”
Doctor Professor stepped forward, his jaw set. “There is more to these three than you know.”
“Thank you, Doctor Professor,” Charlie said.
He continued, “Sure, they may seem about as useful as a paper cut to the eye,”
“That’s… less nice.”
“-and perhaps the one called ‘Nate’ looks like he has a learning disability-”
“Hang on a minute-” Nate started.
“-but it is not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog.”
“Did he just quote the ‘No Fear’ t-shirt my dad wore in junior high?” Charlie asked Sam.
Doctor Professor turned to the three friends. “I’ll bring you to the Quorum of the Trees,” he said, slinging his mace over his shoulder. “That is, if you’ll have me. If by my life, or death I can serve the Aether and aid you in your quest, then so be it.”
“Cool,” Nate said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Cool. Definitely. Yeah, that’s, uh, great. Let’s… let’s do that. Right?” He glanced nervously at his two friends.
The surviving members of the Council of Kings either stared in disbelief and horror, or avoided looking at the three of them altogether.
“Wow,” Sam said. “Our inspiring leader, everybody.”