[IP] Monolith
...
"How much farther Julius?"
The question's voice seemed to be caught by the wind, and dragged off in another direction as it made its way upon the air. In the cold glow of night and moon and the sweeping of sands, one might have thought it lost entirely before the reply came.
"Until we can see the obelisk." The youth in front of the two Mages hollered over his shoulder as he marched on, heavy pack oppressing small shoulders which carried it ahead with stamina to spare. Behind him, the two black-robed figures seemed desperate just to keep pace, steps close to stumbles despite neither wearing an burden beyond the clothing and belts on their persons. "We're almost there, just over the next rise." He turned with a small smile to reassured them. "The Northern Monolith should be in view soon."
"All the Orcs... The Goblins... Are gone..." The taller of the Mages huffed out the words as he leaned on his companion, a youthful woman of fair complexion. "I know that the Eastern Armies were rallying... But the land is empty..."
"Quiet Eron." The Mage beneath the panting man's arm stepped heavy as they continued, eyes determined on the pack carrying youth ahead. "Breathe deeply, walk and focus. You've spent more than you should have already, I can't carry you if you can't help me."
"But... What if... They come for us..." Eron gasped, face beneath the dark hood ragged. "What... Then... Sandra? Julius can... barely swing the sword he stole... and I'm-"
"Shush." Her voice hissed, Sandra dragging the pace to a quicker speed, narrowing the gap between the pair and the young boy ahead of them. "My Magics still hold. I will protect us."
That silenced him, face downcast towards the blackened earth as they continued over the badlands.
It had all seemed so surreal, leaving the Keep, stealing supplies and waltzing out the front gates as if they hadn't just defied the most powerful being in the world. As if Eron hadn't just pushed the Dark Lord through a hole in reality, and left him there to die.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Somehow, despite all of this, the Cleaner Julius was collected enough to guide them. Thoughts and mental fortitude acting on a single command from the Great Guardian of the place still towering in the distance behind them. Even with miles of distance passed, stolen horses long since run to death, and feet now blistering in their boots: The Great Blackened Spire still watched them with inconceivable power looming like eyes on their backs.
Go. Rodrick the Fallen had commanded, and they had all complied: Lead unceremoniously by the young boy who the Dark Knight had named directly; a lad who complied without more than a moment's hesitation.
Eron wondered deeply about that. About many things, truly, for by all means and understanding the Guardian should have cut them down to bloody portions right there and then- yet the Undead Warrior had spared them all: More so, commanded the young cleaner to take Eron and Sandra away to be replaced by three less fortunate souls.
He had turned to watch, right as the doors of the Eastern tower closed behind them, eyes catching sight of that dark towering armor in the glow of the magics that swirled the room's center. The man stood quietly, watching the Portal his master had been plunged off within- perhaps thrown impossibly far from the world they all now raced. The Dark Knight Rodrick had simply stared as if waiting from something, no longer concerned by the two Mages and their youthful guide sent elsewhere and away. An answer to a question not asked aloud.
What was he waiting for?
Eron wondered this above all else.
"We're here." Julius's voice shouted back to them, caught and dragged away by the howling winds of the hill they summit as he continued. "Not much further now."
Eron looked up from the sand and dead soil beneath his robes, eyes widening to the site before them. The Northern Obelisk stood, crystal's of Dark blessings floating on gently in orbit beside the mighty stone. A place of power, even from a distance.
"We're going to make it." Sandra's voice seemed to waver, held back terror now mingling brackish with a tide of hope. "We're almost there."
He was hard-pressed not to fall victim to the same enthusiasm as the three began their slow descent, Julius leading the way as they approached the powerful currents of magic that glowed through even the soil under their feet. It swirled with such intensity, it seemed to glow to the mortal eye as well as the soul, odd shapes of fae and spirits ducking out of sight as boots closed in.
There was so much power here, so much stolen life. All the flowing mana Eron could see had been taken and concentrated, ripped long ago from the dead-lands around the centerpiece's influence by Magics older than all of their lives put together end-to-end.
Magic they could use to get far, far away from this wretched land: Once and for all.