CHAPTER 28: THE SORCERESS OF DA

With his hand on the wall, Orvin strode forward, breathing in short tight breaths. The pain from before had been strong at first, but then dulled off, but now, his leg was throbbing as if he were being pummeled over and over with a wooden bastinado.

The man gasped as he took another step forward, hobbling on his good foot while he tried to use the wall for support.

As a conflagration of shouting and battle cries went up further into the temple, he gasped in sudden alarm, glanced about.

What was happening?

Were those Orchan’Da’s giants?

And then something else happened. There was a scraping of stone on stone—like the doors from before, somewhere inside the walls, and from multiple places. The inner workings of the temple were mysterious and Orvin had no ideas as to what had happened or caused the stones to turn, wherever they were, but something inside him felt that the noise presaged a dark omen as he swiveled his head about in confusion and curiosity.

Not only that, but the cry of the giants in the main chamber, though full of anger and battle lust, carried another air. But then, Orvin was no battle tested man. He was no warrior, so who was he to say what he was hearing?

It was a feeling.

He hopped forward and tripped. When he jerked his other foot down for support, more out of instinctual reaction than thought out design, the pain that shot up through his leg was so excruciating that he bit down and gritted his teeth as he feel back ungainly over the stones. The knocking and jouncing of his elbows on the hard floor was nothing in comparison to the blades shooting up through his leg and hip.

For several moments he lay grunting and breathed as little gasps came out of him indicative of great pain. Had he been an observer of himself, disconnected from that pain, he would have sympathized for Orvin’s pain, even had he been one of the giants come to attack him.

He tilted his head and the dead giant that Harrkania had killed earlier came into his field of view, the blood and the axe still as the stones.

“I cannot”—he wheezed—“I cannot go to… them.” he pushed with his good leg, sliding back-first across the stones toward the open portal to the outside.

The God’s Eye lit with a flash of lightening and an angry cry of thunder rolled over the temple.

Orvin was useless now. The best he could do was wait for them to come back.

Hurry, he thought, worried for Harrkania and Falinor—but particularly for his princess. Hurry back!

After several more moment of breathing heavily and doing nothing, he winced and turned around again, unable to make up his silly mind.

*

Back stepping quickly to give as much ground as possible to keep from being overrun, Falinor flicked and arched his blade in defensive attacks.

The giants cared not.

He killed one with a slash across the neck, but his allies trampled him coming forward as Falinor turned and ran.

“Go!” he shouted. “Run!”

Harrkania, head and shoulders taller than Falinor, retreated with him, but the giants moved too quickly. He turned to defend the princess from them.

“Look out!” he called, his sword flashing and licking out with quick stabs to keep them back.

One giant lunged forward with a heavy grunt and slashed at Falinor wish such force that his sword was torn from his hand in a loud clang. He jerked his head with wide, surprised eyes, watching his lifeline whip through the air and over the side.

The swordsman gasped, knowing the next attack would run him through or cut him in half, but to his sudden surprise, Harrkania jolted to his side, her arms moving and her blade flashing through the giant’s defenses.

She felled him, then another—both in quick succession.

The skirl of their swords was fast and powerful, an altogether different rhythm between giant and giant as the princess did battle with their attackers.

But it only lasted for a second, as Harrkania pulled back, allowing the giant before her to extend himself in an attempt to kill her, but he went too far.

With a quick rejoinder, Harrkania flowed back to her opponent, her sword whirling. She came up under his arm and sliced it clean off.

The giant howled, grasping at his stump as blood sprayed thick and hot through the air. The giant moaned and cried incessantly.

Falinor swallowed as he continued to back step away from the fighting to give the giantess room to fight—room to defend herself and him.

He nearly gaped at her incredible speed and agility and her deft use of her blade.

In some manner of fury, the huge giant behind the wounded one that had just lost his arm simply hurled him to the side. He screamed in a flail of limbs as he fell off the bridge into darkness, the terror of his death cry receding below.

With his size, this new giant posed a threat, even to Harrkania, as he stood at a height that was tall even for the giants. He growled deeply within his throat and whirled a battle axe above his head, his perfectly cut bangs fluttering over his forehead as the braid on the back of his head whipped.

Harrkania gave ground and Falinor searched for a weapon. He saw a sword lying across the stones in the spray of blood from the warrior who had lost that blade, hand and fingers still clutching the hilt with dire need.

He almost dove for that weapon, despite knowing the steel was too heavy for him to handle with any kind of skill—just like Harrkania’s blade, long and thin for the typical giant’s sword, would be somewhat unwieldy for himself.

Something cracked electrically and Falinor knew that sharp sound had to be the sorceress’ whip. When he glanced up to where she had perched before, looking down at the battle, he could not see her.

The giant before Harrkania grunted as he came in with his axe in large arching attacks, the power of which would send her flying off the bridge if she even attempted to block his blows.

Grunting angrily with every missed strike, he changed his rhythm and came with an overhead strike, but the princess was far too nimble for him as she stepped out of reach, her legs spread as she danced on the heels and balls of her booted feet.

When his axe blade hit the stones, a chunk flecked out of the floor, the smell of hot stone and iron and death filling Falinor’s nostrils.

Her footwork was excellent.

Dammit! What am I to do? I have no weapon!

And then he remembered the short silver sword Harrkania had had in her possession earlier. She must have left it behind above the steps.

Turning, he ran up amidst the sound of another electric crack of Orchan’Da’s whip. Glancing back, he saw that there were only a few more giants left between the sorceress and her captain Acro’Nor.

The rest of her warriors were conglomerating behind her on the bridge, having come up behind after throwing the prisoners off the ledge.

Falinor growled, gritting his teeth as heat came to his face.

I’ll avenge you, Chiarro.

Af for that, the swordsman and failed mage wanted to be the one to kill Orchan’Da.

Running, he glanced about the piles of treasure and found no such sword as he sought. “Where did you put it?!” he growled.

Perhaps the back chamber!

He ran there, the shadows in the corners dark and recessed, filled with all manner of objects that cast long shadows. From behind, Harrkania grunted loudly and Falinor saw her arching her sword expertly in her fight the the much larger giant. He would have called for her to be careful, but did he have a need?

Did he want to distract her?

Going in completely, he glanced about wildly and fond all manner of blades and other weapons, as well as the two dead giants, one with his head cut off. Falinor saw the sword immediately and grasped it out of the blood-crusted sand, hefted it.

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It was too heavy.

He tossed it away and glanced about the weapon racks. There was a sword suited for a human with a bastard hilt and a long blade—certainly nothing to drop a large back of coin, but a deadly weapon nonetheless.

“That’ll do!”

Falinor grasped the blade and as fast as he could, he ran back to the main chamber, his bare feet sliding across the gritty stones covered with a thin sheen of the glimmering white sand. He nearly slipped as he came to the steps.

Ahead, Harrkania still held off the much larger giant as he came in with a wild series of swings with his axe, grunting and crying angrily with every strike. She jumped back, and Falinor hesitated to intervene.

He would only get in her way.

The giant arched his blade back around for another pass, and the princess ebbed away from him like before. Just as he neared the end trajectory of that powerful attack, she flowed back into his space and pushed out with both arms, her knee bent and pressed out toward her opponent as her back leg was stretched out for balance. Her strike and pose was perfect, giving her the best manner of reach possible, allowing her to get the tip of her sword with its narrowing spade blade into the giant’s throat.

His eyes widened and he fell back, grasping and struggling while pressing his hands to the deadly wound that would surely end him.

How she managed not to be so clumsy before, the swordsman did not know. He lunged forward as more giants pressed their attack on the bridge and swung with an overhanded strike at the first giant, taking him in the forehead when he missed his strike. As he glanced up, Harrkania finished off the giant before her, leaving Orchan’Da and Acro’Nor on the bridge with just two more giants before them.

They hesitated for a moment, but Acro’Nor bellowed, “GO!” and pushed them both forward. As they stumbled into Falinor and Harrkania’s blades, they attempted to defend themselves and died in a jumble of bloody limbs among the dead giants already fallen.

With those two dead, Acro’Nor stepped forward, a look of murder in his bright blue eyes. The massive giant that had taken the princess’ sword in the throat still struggled for life. But Acro’Nor sliced through him with a single powerful sword stroke, ending his gurgling journey to the netherworld.

With a hiss, Orchan’Da lurched forward like a cat, her size unhampering in the slightest. “Now you die!” she snarled, her arm undulated like a serpent as she lashed out with her whip.

Falinor jumped back, raised his blade to defend himself when the long tendril wrapped around the weapon with a crack and a pop of smoke.

The swordsman’s entire arm was jolted uncontrollably, the sharp needles of pain sticking up his arm and forcing him to let go of his blade.

“Falinor!” cried Harrkania.

The sword clattered to the stoned as Harrkania lashed out at Acro’Nor, who defended himself as expertly as the princess, his blade flashing amidst her attacks. The skirl of their sharp and deadly swords pierced the air and sliced across Falinor’s ears..

The princess managed to step back, but Orchan’Da laughed as she lifted her arm once again in mid flick of her whip, which slithered through the air and coiled around her ankle.

Harrkania shrieked, lost her balance. As she fell back, Orchan’Da yanked her forward and she slid away from Falinor across the smooth stones and into sword reach of Acro’Nor.

“KILL HER!” Orchan’Da commanded.

Wasting no time, Acro’Nor raised his sword above his head in both hands and bellowed a warcry. Harrkania screamed, kicked, and spasmed as Orchan’Da laughed with triumphant glee. She lashed her whip, the pop and the electrification sending new jolts of magical energy into the princess.

Shrieking, she convulsed uncontrollably as Acro’Nor’s sword came down.

“NO!”

Falinor dove for his sword, grabbed it and rolled back to his feet where he stepped over Harrkania, his foot landing between her arm and her torso as he blocked Acro’Nor’s powerful sword blow.

Had it not been for the blunted backside of his blade, the giant’s blow would have knocked him to the ground, but Falinor used his hand to brace the back of his blade in a half-sword defense that nearly broke his wrist.

With a sharp grunt, Falinor touched Harrkania’s body with his bare ankles and jolts of electrifying energy travelled through the swordsman and his body shook, the tendrils and stabbing knives of pain in the affected areas making him scream.

But Acro’Nor did not lifted his blade form their sword lock, instead he smiled and pushed down against Falinor’s defense, against his human strength.

Harrkania screamed and spasmed under him.

Falinor did not falter his defense.

Not yet!

Gritting his teeth, he pushed against the giant, but his strength was no match for that of Acro’Nor’s. The farther Falinor was pushed down to the stones, the bigger Acro’Nor’s smile became.

“KILL HIM!” Orchan’Da howled. “KILL HIM NOW, ACRO’NOR!”

As Falinor lost ground in their struggle, Acro’Nor grunted—his effort to best Falinor in their life or death duel forcing him to actually use his giant’s strength.

“You—“ Falinor spat, “bastard!”

With a hungry and toothy smile for Falinor’s death, the swordsman felt the subtle slackening of Acro’Nor’s muscles and he understood that the giant was about to give his final push that would kill Falinor, when suddenly Harrkania stopped convulsing underneath him, the whip recoiled and Orchan’Da screamed as if she were being murdered in her bed.

Acro’Nor—surprise suddenly taking him—turned to look at his mistress, the Sorceress of Da.

Falinor saw her whirl away, her shoulders curled in as she glanced back and screamed. “They are here! THEY ARE HEEEREE!”

Acro’Nor glanced up, and Falinor was not certain what he saw, other than that the giant’s head jerked up and something passed through the bottom of his chin and out of the back of his head in a thick viscous spray of dark blood chunky matter.

The giant spasmed and his body fell over.

Falinor stepped away from Harrkania as she grunted, gasping with wide eyes and and shuttering convulsions. While she struggled to regain herself, Falinor whirled to face the attacker.

The first things that his gaze came upon were the feet and powerful calves, the black-nailed toes like claws. He glanced up, unable to keep his wide eyes from dragging over the muscled form, at the glinting onyx and gold belt holding up the loincloth, at the statue-like muscles and the four powerful arms and shoulders.

The visage of the warrior was altogether terrible with glowering yellow eyes slitted and malicious. Teeth bared, like fangs and wild boar tusks all at once, words were issued forth, deep and throaty and carrying.

Falinor’s mouth moved to utter a curse, but nothing came out of him as the warrior before him held his sword out at the end trajectory of his attack that had killed Acro’Nor.

“Attack!” cried Orchan’Da from behind. “Kill her! All of you—I order you to kill Harrkania!”

The giants lumbered over the bridge.

Falinor turned, his sword not even raised as Harrkania looked up at him. They were hemmed between this four-armed monster and the rest of Orchan’Da’s warriors.

They had no way of escape.

The monster, with its four limbs, pulled back, its wide blade with a sharp angle cur across the top, like a machete sword, held at a ready stance. The monster then twirled his blade, a show the beast revealed as arrogance.

That warrior, thought Falinor, is no dumb beast.

Just as the giants lumbered forward, more of the four-armed warriors came from the archways on either side of the demon statue. They coalesced, their height and power similar to that of the giants.

The demon statue, thought Falinor. Demons!

The warriors came onto the bridge, their belts jangling and their strange neck ornaments of gold and rubies, almost like armor, flapping across their naked and sculpted bodies of pure black flesh—blacker than even the stones of the temple.

The swordsman knew not where they had come from, only that, by taking her sword, Harrkania had accidentally released an evil presence that had been waiting within the temple.

“Falinor,” whined Harrkania.

Glancing down at the princess, he kneeled, took her hand and helped her to her feet as the giants came up short.

“Bring me Harrkania’s head!” hissed Orchan’Da. “Her sacrifice may yet save us all!”

And then the demons on the other side of the bridge bristled. One of them laughed, an altogether deep and carrying tone, pitiless and mirthless—a clear delight in the sufferings of others. He pointed with one nailed finger and uttered some alien words.

Orchan’Da froze like a statue, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. She then fell to her knees and clasped her hands together in pathetic supplication. “My lord—my lord, please. We meant no offense by taking back the offering.” She pointed to Harrkania and her desperation fell to a barely audible keen or raspy need. “It was her! Punish her, my lords!”

Harrkania looked at her cousin and made a face of disgust. “Like a worm, cousin. Grovel like a worm!”

“Silence!” she hissed, her command a desperate cry for obeisance and life. “They will kill us… all!”

“Then they will kills us,” said Harrkania, accepting what she and Falinor both already knew to be true.

Shaking her head in disbelieve, Orchan”Da glanced about, her eyes pleading under the contemptuous and arrogant gazes of the demon warriors.

But they were unmoved.

With no other obvious recourse, the Sorceress of Da screamed—screamed with uncontrolled frustration and fury and utter defeat as her face reddened, her neck protruding with blue veins. She lifted her hands into the air, her nails like claws and her mouth twisting into a rictus of anger.

Snarling and cursing, she lashed her whip violently in a manner that Falinor knew to be nothing other than the runes of magical projectiles.

“Oh no!” he breathed, his hand moving to take hold of hers.

“Falinor—what is it?”

Through her teeth, Orchan’Da screamed as the magic of her electrified orbs of contained lightning coalesced, one after the other. Then she laughed, a final disrespect to her enemies before hurling the magic out with her whip.

One orbs crackled forth—two of them, sizzling and snapping with bright tendrils. As they sizzled, more magically induced orbs of deadly lightning coalesced together.

The powerful energy screamed through the open space directly toward Harrkania and Falinor.

There was nothing they could do, for neither of them, even together, could not defeat the giants one the one side, nor the demons waiting for them on the other.

Falinor knew their chances of survival to be over—that electricity would kill them, cook them like roasts on a spit, and that was if their bodies did not burst horribly.

Would they be Orchan’Da’s sacrifice, to appease these evil beasts—these demons?!

No.

All of these thoughts, and all of his regrets for failing to help Harrkania escape this evil place with her sword, flashed through his mind in an instant as he tilted his head back to look up into the princess’ eyes. She looked down at him, held his gaze, an understanding between them as they embraced each other, the warmth of their bodies together.

The lightning orbs cracked and whipped with deadly ferocity as the bright luminosity they gave off enveloped the bridge in pure white light.

There was no evil intent of that magic—only the intent of the caster.

When Falinor leaned his weight over the edge, there was no resistance from the princess—not from Harrkania as she was in perfect synch with him, both in body and in mind.

Orchand’Da’s cruel and malicious laughter suddenly ceased and she screeched in sudden anguish and regret. “NO!”

Her malice and lust for power coming to an end, was a final satisfaction to the swordsman.

She fell to her knees, reached out with her hand.

“PLEEEASE! NONONO!”

Together, in each other’s arms, they fell from the bridge into darkness, and blackness took them.

*

The cracks and explosions of energy expanded in a great light, filling the air with a smell Orvin was not familiar with.

And then those lights had gone, leaving the temple in barely lit shadows.

Having watched the entire altercation from above, Orvin’s breath stopped in his throat as his heart hammered inside his chest.

Eyes welling, hand outstretched and fingers curling as if he could have saved the princess simply by taking hold of her, he let his head fall to the stones.

And then he beat his head against the stones.

“Ho—how?”

The words that came out of this throat were not the dignified sounds of a man in emotional pain—they were the voiceless keening of nothing but loss.

“I have… I have failed!”

Bellow, Orchan’Da howled as the demons rushed forward with their swords, making short work of her warriors. They screamed and grunted, died horribly.

The sorceress howled and yelped at the first sign of attack come her way.

She jumped.

She lashed out at the demons, her whip snapping and cracking.

Orvin did not stay to watch what happened to the Sorceress of Da.