Ghost saw the tent, and noticed by its size that it was protecting something large within. This was just as Caidan had suggested, by the looks of it, whatever Dreadwell was hiding in there had all the makings of a face. It was clear in the indention pressing out of the top of the tent, a forehead, eye sockets, the start of a nose. Definitely, a face.
And whatever it was, they would have to destroy it to stop the horde of zombies.
Alistair melded with Hooty, Ghost watching as the boy tore through several of the guards.
He hit the tent with a flash of wind, enough to bring down some of its outer structure.
Wheeeesh!
An arc of radiant mana tore out of the side of the tent, ripping through its campus. At first, Ghost assumed that Alistair had triggered something, a trap, perhaps, but then he saw that the blast had come from the end of the scepter.
As the pieces fell into place, and while Alistair-as-Hooty continued to tear through the ranks protecting the main structure, a boy, no older than ten, stepped forward in a lich mask, his hands gripping a scepter that was charging once again with power.
“That’s him!” Ghost said. “Dreadwell!”
Alistair unbinded with Hooty. Beside him, Ziggy surged forward, only to be thwarted by several of the zombies.
Rain of Blades should have done something, yet Dreadwell merely used the scepter to block it with a spherical shield.
“I have something else,” Alistair said quickly as he used Void Punch, allowing him to send his sword tip through a portal that should have stabbed Dreadwell in the back. Yet the boy was already on the move, now hovering above it all, the ends of his robes flailing around him.
“You finally came,” Dreadwell told Ghost. Even though he was a child, Dreadwell’s voice sounded old, likely the effect of the lich mask that seemed to be permanently glued onto his face. “You have attempted to derail something that has been set in motion now for a long time, but you are too late. We are at the border. We have enough power now to decimate the Dawncrest Kingdom, starting with Solaria. We—”
Ghost surged into control of Alistair’s body. He bolted toward Dreadwell with his sword at the ready, the assassin hell-bent on ending this on his own terms. Not that they didn’t have Plan B, but it was a plan that could leave room for error and Ghost knew it.
Plague Bearer. It was the Resonant Enchantment that would poison Dreadwell, but would also poison Alistair and anyone in the vicinity. It was a last resort kind of tactic, the kind that Ghost didn’t want to lean on until he was certain he would be able to pull off everything that needed to happen here in the next few minutes.
The last, crucial minutes.
And more than likely, the last moments he would be alive.
Ghost had also been prepared to command Alistair to use Plague Bearer against Kang, and it certainly was a way for him to wrap everything up with a nice bow on it like he planned. But it had to be timed just right, and as he brought his sword around and Dreadwell lifted his scepter, Ghost didn’t know when that perfect opportunity would come.
Dreadwell released an incredible blast, one that sent Ghost flying backward, where he struck one of the zombies, whose skull came forward and teeth cracked against Ghost’s shoulder. The two rolled down the hill, hit an unnatural rampart made by dead bodies, only to be helped by Lionel, who extended a hand to Ghost and threw him back to his feet.
“Thanks, Lionel!”
“I’ll distract the fucker!” Noctarii said as he raced toward Dreadwell, who seemed to be charging up for another big attack.
Ziggy leaped to Alistair’s shoulder, the slime morphing into a huge hand-like object that swatted away an incoming zombie. Squish!
Ghost glanced around to see Juno and Zola down at the base, a good fifty or sixty feet away. Caidan was on the periphery, stabbing in and out of the shadows as she tried to control the horde.
He reached Dreadwell again, who thrust his scepter forward, the end along getting into a pole that hit Alistair hard in the chest. Since Ghost was in control, he took the brunt of the hit; he could tell by a sudden sensation in his core that Dreadwell had broken something, likely a lower rib.
“You aren’t going to like this,” he told Alistair as he moved to avoid Dreadwell’s next attack. “Your rib…”
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Alistair: It’s broken?
Ghost: Yep.
Alistair: What do you want me to do? Heal it?
Ghost: Later. For now, Overture and Lightning Firestorm. I don’t want to do it yet. But it may be necessary.
Alistair whimpered upon coming in control of his body again and feeling the pain.
Ba-da-da-dum!
Overture caused Dreadwell to thrust back, yet he maintained his position in the air as he pointed his scepter at Alistair once again. Dreadwell released a bolt of mana at the same time Alistair used Lightning Firestorm, the air crackling with electricity that soon turned into fire.
The boy professor aimed his scepter and fired it repeatedly. Power cackled around him as more of the huge relic he had been hiding in the tent was revealed. Alistair had never seen a skull like it, four or five times his height, the bone blackened all aside from the teeth, which were sharp and silver, beady gold orbs for eyes.
It too seemed to be charging, and by the looks of it, whatever power the skull possessed would be transferred to Dreadwell. A bond had been made, one that sizzled with mana and batted away anything that came close to it…
“Now! It’s time,” he told Alistair.
“Are you sure?”
Ghost regained control and cut a zombie down. “Plague Bearer, now, Alistair, just as we discussed, before it’s too late!” He brought his hand up to shield himself from the blinding flare of mana.
“But it will—”
“Do it, Alistair! Let’s get the fucker in the dungeon!”
Alistair, who was mere feet away from Dreadwell now, cast the Forbidden Resonant Enchantment.
Green smoke spewed from the end of his wand, thick enough that it covered the area in a matter of moments. Alistair could feel it in his throat, like an allergy, like a sneeze coming on, only much worse.
It grew stronger until he heard Dreadwell hacking. The boy professor fell; Ghost used this opportunity to grab him and drive his sword into the space just beneath his shoulder, cutting off the usage of his left arm.
“You—!” Dreadwell spat as Ghost did the same with the other arm, the boy professor no longer able to hold onto his scepter.
Ghost: I will get him to the dungeon. Good luck, Alistair.
“Good luck?” Alistair coughed, but by this point, Ghost had taken over again.
Even as the poison spread through him, Ghost grabbed Dreadwell by the collar and dragged him down the hill, avoiding the swell of zombies on the periphery. He felt a sudden jolt as mana from the strange skull relic rushed into Dreadwell.
“Lionel…” Ghost said, his voice hoarse, energy levels waning, “deal with the… skull. Do something… destroy it. The zombies. It will stop them.”
The Abyssal summon appeared in a flourish of shadow and faded. “As you wish, assassin.”
“I can help!” Noctarii said, desperation in his voice as he buzzed right in front of Ghost’s face.
“Just make sure… the others are safe.”
“Will do!”
Dreadwell tried to put up a fight by biting Ghost’s arm. Ghost stopped, looked down at the boy professor, and punched him in the face with all the strength he had left, breaking his nose. He grabbed Dreadwell by the collar again and continued dragging him toward the dungeon. “Killed you once… will kill you one last time.”
They cleared the poisonous mist, where it became easier to breathe again. Yet Ghost could tell the damage was done. It was something about the way he now felt in Alistair’s body, his breaths painful, his ears ringing, his heart thumping sporadically like it would soon putter to a stop.
Still, he pressed on, past Juno who rushed toward him and helped Ghost by the arm.
“I got you, Alistair! I told you I’d save you one day!”
Ghost didn’t have the heart to tell Juno that he wouldn’t be saving anyone. But he was glad to see the zombie hoards all falling at the same time indicating that Lionel had completed his mission.
They neared the entrance to the dungeon, and Zola stepped aside, her wand trained on the boy professor.
“We can’t… can’t kill him…” Ghost reminded her with a huff.
He was on his last leg and he knew it.
Ghost was aware of what this felt like to die, and only realized as he hauled Dreadwell down the stairs but it wasn’t as bad as he remembered it being. Maybe that was because this time, he was surrounded by people that cared about him, or at least the body that he had inhabited, and most importantly, he was doing this on his own terms.
Ghost reached the bottom of the stairs and rudely deposited Dreadwell in the dungeon. He staggered to his feet and looked back to the top, the clouds gray beyond as Juno rushed down to help him. “Maybe you’re right…” He told Juno, Ghost now delirious, the world around him blurring. “Maybe you were destined to save me… today.”
“I told you got you, Alistair!” Juno helped him out of the dungeon.
As soon as they stepped foot on solid ground, Zola smashed the card in her hand. The dungeon, and the stairwell leading down vanished, like reality had been zipped up with a spark of magic.
Ghost rolled onto his back, the dark gray clouds above closer than ever, a brightness extending to him. Death was near. He felt Alistair try to take over, but he didn’t let him. “I need to do it…” he hissed. “I need to do it this way…”
Alistair: But I can heal you, heal us! Ghost!
“This is for you…” Ghost said as Juno’s blurry form hovered over him alongside Zola. Ziggy was there, the slime squishing with concern, as was Noctarii, buzzing frantically. Somewhere behind them, Ghost saw Caidan, who merely stood silently with her arms crossed over her chest.
The final sensation came.
Ghost would never know if it started at his feet or at his head, but it seemed to meet in his center, as a new card formed in the air above him.
The Feather of the Phoenix Card exploded into a shower of mana, giving new life to Alistair when he should have died from the poison.
Alistair gasped awake and for once, the voice in his head was silenced. Try as he might, even as his temples pounded, there was no response.
Ghost was no more.