I stare at the woman’s ethereal form from across the clearing, resolutely standing my ground as she makes her way toward me, bringing with her the horrific visage of Val still dancing across her face.
I quietly draw Twilight and Shadow from their scabbards on my hip, readying myself for the battle with this creature. The moonlight glints off all four swords as she takes step after methodical step toward me.
Step.
The hellfire blazes stronger from her blade.
Step.
Moonlight refracts through the thick ice of her second sword.
Step.
Her segmented armor reflects the lights dancing across its surface.
Step.
I raise my swords, crossing them in the shape of an X across my body.
Step.
The woman is mere feet away from me now, her breathing slow and methodical.
Step.
The metal visor slips back over the woman’s head and finally, the calmness is shattered.
The figures on the edge of the clearing tilt their heads back in unison, and a beam of the same red hellfire erupts from their mouths. The fire roars as it jets upward to a central point high above the treeline surrounding the clearing. Where the torrents of flame meet, there emerges a large blazing sphere of hellfire, from which I see further fragmented visions of the Serpent Qu’athlas.
The orb of hellfire continues to expand, raining down on the clearing and creating a flaming arena around me and the beast in front of me.
The woman lets out a horrible screaming sound as she plants herself in the dirt, readying for combat, the red light from the hellfire sphere now the only thing illuminating her figure against the darkness of the night.
I do the same, lowering my body and settling into a defensive stance, my swords still crossed in front of me.
For what feels like an eternity, we stare each other down, our eyes locked as we circle each other.
The woman lunges, her form flying gracefully through the air like a dancer. Her whole body twists and spins through the air, her swords forming a whirlwind of motion and creating a saw-like aura around her body.
I raise my swords and catch the icy sword in the cross-section of the X shape, stopping the momentum of the woman in midair and throwing her roughly to the ground.
Stepping forward quickly, I attempt to slash Twilight across the woman’s breastplate. Instead, I only catch the blade in the woman’s ethereal cape, the woman herself rolling deftly out of the way of the sword’s edge and subsequent orange lightning.
I spin on my left foot and attempt to hit the woman with a dual strike across her tall form, but as my swords whistle through the air, she raises the hellfire blade and easily blocks both of them.
As our swords fly apart from the impact, the hellfire orb from far above lets out a piercing whistling sound, and I watch, horrified as slimy, half-formed bodies drop from the abyss onto the battlefield.
The woman retreats backward as the gross approximations of humans rise in front of me, creating a wall of rotting flesh between us.
“Well isn’t that just the most pleasant thing I’ve seen all week!” I spit at the wall, knowing full well they won’t be able to understand me. All the same, the release of pent-up anger and frustration feels good and reinvigorates me for another charge.
I swing forward with both blades, creating two horizontal cuts in the bodies. Black liquid pours from the wounds, steaming as it hits the ground in front of me. I continue hacking away at the wall, creating slice after slice in the decaying skin. Eventually, the bodies ooze out enough black blood that they appear to deflate in front of me.
I step over the pile of corpses and shout at the woman, now standing at the back edge of the clearing.
“That all you got?” I taunt the woman. I know it’s not a great idea to do so, but the adrenaline coursing through my blood makes me feel like I could stop just about anything right now, so I let the malicious words flow with reckless abandon.
She steps forward, raising her swords again to face me, and this time she flies through the air, both swords poised in front of her, attempting to skewer me. I throw my body to the ground and raise Shadow above my body, attempting to recreate my earlier maneuver from my face off against the Plaguebeast, disemboweling this woman right here.
To my dismay Shadow’s dark metal scrapes harmlessly across the woman’s armor. Doing nothing but creating the horrible sound of metal scraping against itself and leaving a deep scratch down the midsection of my opponent.
Finishing her attack, the woman hits the ground behind me and rolls to regain her balance, rearing up for another charge. I raise Twilight and Shadow in preparation and begin a countercharge as her form flies back across the clearing toward me.
With a resounding CLANG, our swords meet under the orb of hellfire, the momentum of our charges halted by one another.
The ground below us is still slippery with the black blood of the human approximations and we both struggle to keep our footing in the slick grass. We push against one another, our blades interlocked in a fierce battle of strength.
Using the slippery terrain to my advantage, I slip one of my long legs behind hers and sweep outward, applying force to her chest at the same time, causing her to slip and fall backward into the earth.
As she falls, she wraps an arm around my torso and pulls me down with her. We hit the ground with a sickening crunch of bone and armor. The woman cries out in pain and I see a horrific crack in the elbow joint of her armor. A crack that exposes the torn flesh underneath. I see the edges of broken bone poking their way out from the bloody mass and quickly revel in my small victory against the creature.
Then I feel a heavy boot find a place in my torso, as the woman powerfully kicks me off of her, I fly helplessly through the air. I brush the orb of hellfire with my shoulder and the scar of the Plaguebeast’s wound erupts again in the same numbing pain as when it was first inflicted, causing me to drop Twilight mid-arc, watching as it falls to the ground far below me, lost amongst the overgrown grass.
My fall is graceless and I hit the ground hard, sprawled on my back with the wind knocked out of me. I barely have the chance to take in a single ragged breath, before the woman is back on top of me, her form filling my vision.
With her still unharmed arm, she raises the frozen blade high above her head, preparing to plunge it into me. As the point comes flying towards my face, I throw my body hard to the left and manage to roll out of the way just in time, the cold tip plunging into the earth inches from where my head now lies.
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With her blade in the dirt, I take the opportunity to aim an upward thrust at the woman, with Shadow aiming for the pit of her arm, a spot where I notice that her armor consists only of leather. A great relief washes over me as I am able to sink my blade deep into the shoulder of the woman. Eliciting another screeching howl of pain from under her visor.
The hellfire orb blazes bright again as the woman retreats back under its red glow. The falling flame coats her armor, setting parts of it afire. With a renewed vigor, she flies at me again, unleashing a flurry of blows.
With only one sword to my name, the best I can do is weakly parry some of the attacks and dodge away from the others. When at last an opening presents itself, I am unable to take the opportunity to attack, because Shadow is occupied guarding my shoulder from an attack at the hands of the hellfire blade.
The battle becomes a sort of dance routine as we fly in and out of attacking and defencing. My body becomes drenched in blood and sweat as we trade small blows, nicks and scratches over the course of our fight. Neither of us gives too much ground to the other as our swords fly through the air at lightning speed for minutes on end.
Eventually, my ragged breathing and aching body force me to retreat to the edge of the clearing for some much-needed respite. I spit blood and bile into the grass, wiping my mouth with the back of my glove.
The woman stands opposite me, her breathing also broken and heavy. As I stand there recovering, she lets out another monstrous shriek. This time, instead of blazing brighter, the hellfire orb bursts. Showering the battlefield in the same viscous black blood from before. The blood coats my entire body, as well as the woman and the cloaked figures on the edge of the circle.
As the blood rains down, so do more of the body approximations from before. But these ones are different, these bodies take the shape of another woman I once knew. One that died a brutal death at the hands of religious fanaticism. Staring me down are a staggering number of approximations that resemble Tulip’s disemboweled corpse. Every available inch of her graying skin is again covered in the same glowing blue eyeballs as before.
I falter, lowering my weapon. Whilst it may be easier to rationalize fighting a gross approximation of Tulip than a creature taking on the visage of Val, Tulip was the only person to show me any semblance of kindness on this forsaken shithole of an island. Her death was untimely and unwarranted and it feels wrong to disrespect her memory by cutting through her to kill this creature of the forest.
All the same, it is a necessary evil and I raise Shadow once again. As the approximations stumble toward me, I rush forward through the grass, now oversaturated with blood, and my foot brushes against something hard and metallic. It doesn't even take me a half second to realize that the object is Twilight and I scoop the blade up, my hand finding solace in the familiar, leather-wrapped handle.
After readjusting my blades in my hands, I send my body flying through the air, my swords outstretched to my left and right, slicing a hole through the wall of shambling corpses. I follow through with my attack and hit the ground rolling on the other side of the wall, my cloak now covered in even more of the black blood and further remnants of the flesh and gore from the body approximations.
I stand, Shadow and Twilight clutched in my hands. My eyes flash with cold steel and determination as I rush across the clearing, leaping high into the air, and tackling the woman.
Our bodies flail as we hit the ground and I am barely able to throw an elbow into her pointed white visor revealing the face of the very woman I am on my way to save.
Her face contorts as I stare down at it, the visage of Val fading along with the power of the woman.
A warped voice croaks out of broken vocal cords, “Draven. I love you.”
I stop dead in my tracks, Shadow poised above her, ready to deliver the killing blow. I can feel the malevolent magic of the forest beginning to take hold of my mind as my hand begins to tremble.
I stop thinking, I push through the forest’s magic and plunge my sword deep into the creature’s face. The blood that pours out is thick and hot, and as I remove my blade, the body of the woman melts away from under me into the same blood, and I am not surprised to find myself crying as I roll onto my back in the pool of blood and pass out from both sheer exhaustion and the wave of utter sadness washing over me.
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Danor - Thorin’s Blacksmithing Shop
‘The Celestine Diamond’ Words that hang in the air like a heavy fog. The prized jewel of the west.
I snap. “You want me to steal the most valuable object in the kingdom? The one that’s magic founded this very city? You must be out of your fucking mind!”
“Lower your voice, you dunce!” Thorin hisses back, “I want that jewel for a reason far different than any other man wants it.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I want to forge a sword with it. The diamond being the centerpiece of both the crossguard and the blade itself.”
“You want to attempt to harness the magic of the Celestine Diamond in a sword?!”
“Aye. And use that sword to avenge my fallen father. Killed at the hands of King Tristan himself.”
I sigh. The whole situation spiraling out of control in front of me. “Just so we’re on the same page,” I start, a hint of frustration creeping into my voice, “You want to steal King Tristan’s most prized possession and kill him with it because he killed your father?”
“In so many words… I suppose you could say that. Aye.”
“Fucking ridiculous,” I mutter.
“It is. But so is you surviving multiple wounds from the warriors of Frostvein, which is how I know you’re special. Any man who can resist that level of magic must be able to apply those same powers to his professional life.”
“I am no wielder of magic.” I state, matter of factly, “I’m simply good at what I do.”
“Then you must be good enough to help me?”
I slam my fist into the armrest of my chair, “This is folly! Even if you could forge a blade with the diamond, you don’t know how to harness its magic. Further yet, committing such a treasonous act like murdering the very king of the west himself isn’t as simple as walking up to him and slicing his throat! All over the loss of your father. One man. King Tristan kills people all the time, some of them guilty some of them innocent. It’s just the way of life. Why do you think I steal from his corrupt court and their aristocratic co-conspirators?”
“How about you focus on your part of this and I focus on mine?” Thorin spits back. “As for my father, he was an honorable man. A blacksmith before me, born from a long line of blacksmiths. They say that the iron of the forge ran through his very blood. He was the most famous smith in the West. He served as the head blacksmith of King Tristan’s armory. But when the king’s prized sword, a blade which he called Fatebringer, broke in the Battle of the Ragged Mountains, it was my father’s head. Even though he wasn’t the one who forged the sword.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I refuse to heal your wounds.”
“I’ll go elsewhere.”
“And tell them who you are? What you were doing? And how you encountered folks from the north? Hah! Good luck with that one mate. I’m your best bet, and as much as you might hate to admit it, you’d like to see King Tristan die just as much as I would.”
“I despise the fact that you’re right.”
“Ah! So you admit that you too would like to see the king rot with the rats in the sewers. That’s the spirit!”
“Fuck you,” I say, although I know he’s right. Having a new king could lead to a better city. A city where I wouldn’t have to steal my living. A city where I could start a healthy family and maybe even rejoin my own. “You have a deal. But after the king is dead, we part ways.”
“Aye. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
***
The next few days pass and as I slowly heal, Thorin and I spend hours pouring over maps of the citadel by candlelight. I dare not question how he procures them. Likewise, he doesn’t question my plan of execution. We work together for many long nights, debating routes, methods of entry, escape plans, and so much more. By the time we’re done each night, Thorin’s study is a mess of papers, maps, drawings, and scrapped notes that Thorin uses for fuel in his forge the next day.
Over the course of my recovery, we create a plan so airtight that even I am assured it will play out exactly as we intend.
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My knees scrape against the knotted roots of the forest floor as I am dragged by my arms away from the battlefield. The cloaked men have placed a heavy black bag over my head that makes it impossible to tell if it’s day or night. Coupled with my battle against sleep’s warm embrace, it is impossible to tell how far I am dragged or for how long. All I know is that when I finally awake, with the bag no longer wrapped around my head., I am alone, in a cold and damp stone jail cell deep below the earth's surface.
The only light comes from the cell opposite me, wherein a purple orb of energy surrounds a woman. Her body frail is suspended in the magic. Her red hair is reminiscent of the sun I haven’t seen in days. She wears white armor that is torn and ragged barely clinging to her body. Most notably of all, her arm is tattooed with the telltale orange sun, the all too familiar mark of The Covenant of the Light.