Zalan could feel Docrun running after him as much as he could hear his thunderous steps. He threw a bolt of lightning behind him without looking and heard Docrun stumble for a moment as Rep’s hand reached out and touched the handle. Rep grasped tightly, then had his face smashed into the door by Docrun’s decrepit, gray hand. Rep cried out in pain and Zalan swung his sword at Docrun’s outstretched arm, only to have his blade slapped aside by Docrun’s scepter, stabbing the stone floor harmlessly.
“I cannot pull it open,” Rep said through grit teeth, his efforts still focused on escape despite the grip Docrun had on him. An arrow stabbed through King Docrun’s forearm and he turned to find where Yelsa was firing from. In the moment of distraction, Zalan threw a bolt of lightning at Docrun’s feet, causing him to buckle enough that Rep’s head was no longer pushed against the wooden door. Zalan swung his sword at Docrun’s outstretched hand again, this time much faster. Docrun spotted the incoming blade and released Rep’s head to dodge, and Rep was rolled aside to safety by a blast of air that Gorb supplied.
“I need to be next to the door to open it!” Rep said as he rolled to his feet, the right side of his face covered in blood and splinters.
“You cannot open the door if you are dead!” Gorb called back, rushing with Fran to engage in battle with Docrun as he turned his focus to Zalan.
Zalan took a step back, watching Docrun’s scepter closely to see how he would attack. He was right to keep an eye on it, because Docrun immediately thrust it forward and Zalan had only just enough time to parry it. Docrun came with another swing from above and Zalan held up his sword, locking the two weapons. Docrun was handily overpowering Zalan, pushing Zalan’s sword gradually to his face. An arrow inserted itself into the back of Docrun’s head, emerging from the charred side of his face, removing his bad eye. Docrun didn’t seem to mind the partial loss of sight, his remaining eye intent on pushing Zalan’s sword through its owner.
Zalan screamed in frustration, pain, and fear as his sword drew within inches of his face. In a last-ditch effort, he blasted his own weapon with lightning, not thinking about the consequences as his blade threatened to meet his face.
In that moment, Zalan felt the mind-muscle of his Elemental Power respond to him like never before. He knew how to maintain the lightning in his blade for a whole of three seconds. He was imbuing the blade with lightning. The powerful electricity traveled up through his blade and into Docrun’s scepter, causing Docrun to twitch and lose his hold over the locked weapons. As Docrun lost his grip, Fran blasted between them, assisted by a burst of air behind her, and sliced wildly at Docrun’s scepter.
Docrun’s weapon dropped to the floor along with his thumb. Docrun looked at his severed hand numbly, flexing his remaining fingers, and used his other hand to ensure his crown was still on his head. Satisfied to see his kingly apparel had not been separated from him, he looked back to Zalan and his companions, twisting his head out of the way as one of Yelsa’s arrows tried to take his other eye. It missed, leaving a small cut on Docrun’s ear.
“That was my last one!” Yelsa called helplessly.
“No matter! We can take him from here now that he is unarmed!” Fran called with ebullience.
Docrun turned to her as Fran thrust her sword straight at Docrun’s neck. Docrun placed the palm of his thumbless hand in the way and Fran cut right into it with a sneer on her face. But rather than cut all the way through to his throat, Docrun used his hand to redirect the blade to open air next to him. Fran frowned and tried to twist her sword to pull it from his grip, but Docrun began to slide his palm inward, stabbing himself further to get his palm closer to the hilt of the blade. Fran stared in shock as Docrun drew close to her, his four fingers on the hilt of her sword. She tried to pull it away again, but Docrun’s grip over her weapon was tight and he headbutt her forcefully, causing her to stumble back and lose her weapon.
“Oh…” she said, stunned as Docrun stood over her with her blade inserted backward through his hand.
Gorb came now, throwing the full strength of his weight and wind at Docrun as he tried to cut off his head, but was parried by the awkwardly angled sword in Docrun’s hand. Zalan threw a bolt of lightning at Docrun when he got his bearings enough to time the shot, but Docrun pulled Gorb into the way and had Zalan hurt his ally. Zalan cried out as Gorb fell to the involuntary pulses in his nervous system and Docrun kicked him aside.
Docrun rushed at Rep as he grabbed at the door handle once more. This time Rep was baiting Docrun and he spun around to swing his sword at the Fleshless being. Docrun took the attack in stride, swatting Rep’s blade aside with his newly acquired sword and tackling Rep into the ground, driving the air out of him. Docrun then whipped around and looked to the last individual standing.
Zalan trembled, raising his sword and imbuing it with lightning.
The others thought to tell Zalan to run, but no one could think of where he should go. Docrun raced toward him, his powerful stride shaking the stones as he closed the gap. Zalan screamed and blasted lightning with one hand while swinging his power-imbued sword with the other. Zalan was able to connect both attacks, the lightning caused Docrun to falter enough to overextend his arm, and Zalan’s attempt to cut off Docrun’s bad arm succeeded in cutting Fran’s blade at the hilt, cutting it in half. The hilt and blade fell to the floor and disarmed the king of his crude weapon. Zalan was almost proud of the feat until Docrun used his good hand to grab Zalan by his throat. He lifted him up and used his bad hand to punch Zalan’s forearm with enough force for it to release Zalan’s grasp on his sword.
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Zalan couldn’t get any air. He flailed his legs, desperately trying to kick the king that was draining him of life. He thought to try and kick the Ressurector from Docrun’s hip, but he was far too high. Fran appeared then, jumping onto King Docrun’s back and holding on to an arrow to keep herself steady. She pulled out the sword lodged into the king’s back and immediately swung to decapitate him. Before Fran could complete the full arc of her swing, Docrun deftly used his free arm to loop a few fingers into Fran’s tunic and flung her over his head, smashing her into the stone floor with a crack. Both the arrow she held and sword clattered far away from her.
“Fran!” Gorb screamed desperately. Fran looked faint, the pain from her fall overwhelming her senses.
Zalan, similarly, was starting to lose his grip on reality. He tried to claw and punch weakly at Docrun’s face as the king’s grip tightened on his throat. He tried to fire lightning from his hands, but it only caused Docrun’s grip to decrease slightly instead of fully release. Zalan was still unable to get a gasp of air. The lightning would also travel up Docrun’s arm and deal searing-hot damage to Zalan’s already-pained throat. As he slapped weakly at Docrun’s head, Zalan brushed against Docrun’s crown and Docrun’s remaining eye went up sharply for an instant before returning to Zalan.
An idea smashed into Zalan like a truck. All the talk of vanity and echoes of the previous life of the Fleshless barrelled through Zalan’s mind and he put all his energy into one last plan. His vision fading, he reached out to King Docrun’s head with a shaky hand, grabbed the crown, and threw it as far across the room as he could. The jeweled headwear clattered to the floor and Docrun immediately moved to feel around his decaying, thinning hair with his free hand. Docrun’s pupil went tiny as soon as he felt the lack of his kingly adornment.
King Docrun threw Zalan aside instantly, bounding across the room like a hound after prey to retrieve his crown.
“Gorb! Keep it away from him!” Zalan croaked as soon as he got his first breath, his voice almost gone.
Gorb, not understanding what just happened, threw all the force of wind that he could against the crown, just as Docrun dove for it. The king smashed into the wall, manically patting the floor for the crown before noticing it being dragged to the opposite corner by the wind. Docrun got back up on all fours and raced toward it, his total focus on retrieving his crown.
Gorb had nowhere else to send the crown but up and grunted in painful exertion as he launched the gold headwear into the air like a bottle rocket. It flew up high and clanged against the ceiling. Gorb strained, his face going from dark red to purple as he tried to keep the crown afloat, but the constant stream of energy being emitted was too much.
“I… cannot… hold,” Gorb said, his voice almost lost in his exertion.
Gorb let out a breath and the crown began to freefall.
Docrun jumped to grab it, and Zalan grit his teeth, preparing to be killed as soon as Docrun was whole once more. But, to his surprise, the golden headpiece abruptly stopped out of the Fleshless king’s reach a few feet above his outstretched arm at his full jump height. Docrun continued to reach upward, smashing against the wall and waiting for the crown to fall, but it remained in place, swinging slightly above him. Zalan’s vision returned enough for him to see that it was hanging on an arrow that had just been shot into the wall. He turned, stunned, to Yelsa.
Yelsa was breathing hard, pulling Fran over her shoulder as best she could, but struggling under her injured leg. Fran was staring at Docrun with a mix of amazement and disbelief. Zalan saw the sword that Fran had been holding earlier was still abandoned on the floor, but not the arrow. Yelsa must have grabbed the arrow from the ground and used it to keep the crown out of Docrun’s reach in a moment of quick thinking.
“Quickly!” Rep whispered, dragging the door open.
The travelers watched Docrun, not moving, to see how he would react to the open door. He continued to powerfully slam his fists into the wall. He was desperately trying to force the crown to continue its descent, even clawing at the stone in an act of pleading for it to allow gravity to resume its course. Zalan and his friends took this as a good sign and got moving.
Gorb ran over to help Yelsa carry Fran from the room. Zalan rushed over, picking up the spare sword from the floor and rushing to the exit. Before running to the next room, everyone turned to Docrun one last time. He was hopping repeatedly, despairingly trying to nick the side of the crown with enough force to bump it off the arrow.
“Should we pull the Ressurector from his hip now that he’s distracted?” Zalan whispered.
“I am not getting anywhere near that thing,” Yelsa replied quietly.
The others agreed through their silence, Zalan included.
Gorb breathed in deeply, then twisted air in a manner that rolled the king’s scepter to his feet. He kicked it into the next room. They looked at him strangely.
“At some point he may have realized he could use the scepter to get the crown off the wall. I hope to prevent that,” Gorb explained quietly.
“But what about my broken blade that was left within?” Fran asked. "He could use that to extend his reach, easily!"
“Or the arrows in his back?” Yelsa asked.
“I suspect in the same way that he preferred to keep the company of his crown and scepter, he would not want to use ‘lesser’ items to retrieve his royal item,” Gorb suggested as Rep shut the door behind them, the king jumping like mad to try and retrieve his crown.