-Tobito-

Minutes before Mathadiel fell, Tobi was running amongst the devastated remnants of the Gorteauan army, chivying the men, shouting, and sometimes even cracking the staff of his spear on their armor, urging them to fall further back. He pushed them to the left and back, so that the entire force could take shelter behind the hill. They lost much of their strict formation with the move, but he didn’t care. He only wanted them back and out of harms way. All along the lines, men were glancing over their shoulders, their smoke and dust-stained faces stricken. It wasn’t hard to see what had terrified them so.

After the move, most of them could no longer see the battle against the tarrasque. Some men were able to sneak peeks and share what they saw when the officers weren’t looking. But it was nearly as bad, with the constant roars and screaming that came audibly over the hill. They had to be just over a mile away now, but the distance wasn’t enough to muffle it all. Tobi cursed softly to himself, wishing there was something more he could do to help restore their confidence. Shaken men could fight, but they would be doomed to lose. With the Mitene Union hidden in the area, something had to be done.

“Master Tokugawa!” A voice boomed out from atop the hill. Lifting one hand to shade his eyes against the sun, Tobi glanced up and saw a tall lanky figure. He could just make out the red robe from this distance, and waved his arm to indicate that he’d heard. The figure gave an unmistakable beckoning gesture, then returned to the tent. Tobi frowned at that. Aren Gorteau would know that he was busy moving the men, and couldn’t be expected to break away for minor matters. That meant that whatever the summon was for, it wasn’t minor.

He crouched low, then, reinforcing his legs with Ki, pushed off the packed earth as hard as he could. Once he was free of the press of fighting men and women, he could use mana to keep himself afloat, and he shot to the top of the hill quickly. His spell wasn’t nearly as efficient or long-lasting as Samuel’s, but it did the job moderately well, and he had the prestige of being one of the few mages who could accomplish it. He landed at a light jog, slowing down just enough to duck under the canvas flaps that blocked out most of the sunlight.

“What is it?” He asked, noting that Rainhall and his lackeys were no longer in the tent. They must be down with the men, he thought. Only Aren Gorteau was there, leaning against the war map with a very troubled air. “Has something happened with Samuel and the Champion?”

“What?” Aren looked up, clearly distracted by this thoughts. He gave a quick reassuring wave. “No, our scouts still say that they’re in top form. They even seem to have Mathadiel on the ropes. I’m getting updates every minute or so.”

He tapped the side of his head to indicate a mental message, and Tobi took a deep breath of relief. Then he raised his eyebrows, making it clear that he was still waiting on an answer. Aren was nodding to himself slightly as he mulled something over. “We do have an issue, however. Our scouts have lost track of Knarlick.”

That was a major concern, Tobi thought. Still, it wasn’t the worst news. “Perhaps he’s pulled his army out of our range.”

“No,” Aren retorted, sounding exasperated. “I mean we can’t find him anywhere. Even with God’s Eye, he seems to have vanished.”

Tobi frowned again. “But is that possible? I thought it was impossible to avoid God’s Eye.”

God’s Eye was, of course, the high-level Divination spell taught to the Royal Mages of Milagre. By loading an object with mana, they could search all across the known world for an individual. Aren rolled his shoulders in an expression that was almost a shrug. “There is only one well-known way to defeat it, and that’s lining a space with lead. But one mage has managed it in the past. We checked for him several times a year, but to no avail.”

“That must be one hell of a mage,” Tobi replied.

“That’s an understatement,” Aren said with a short laugh. “It was Samuel. He was untrackable for nearly a hundred years.”

Tobi grimaced at the thought. Samuel had been lost to the world for a century, and nobody, not even himself, could account for that lost time. Which, of course, meant that if it had something in common with why Knarlick had suddenly vanished, they couldn’t glean any useful information from it. Tobi noticed that Aren was staring at him expectantly, and raised an eyebrow. “What do I have to do with this?”

“Well, do you know what happened to Samuel while he was absent from the world?” Aren asked it quickly, as if he were keen to get the question over with. “With the exception of the God of Nature, you’re the closest friend that Samuel has among the living. I can hardly pray to Shigeru as a stranger and ask him.”

“I don’t know where he was in that time,” Tobi said. Then, as Aren looked skeptical, he added more firmly, “I mean it. I’m not hiding secrets from you, Gorteau. Even Samuel himself doesn’t know where he was. To him, he was only gone a moment.”

“Damn!” Aren exclaimed. “Something in me is telling me that the two cases are linked. But without knowing anything about Samuel’s disappearance, I can’t find a way to discover where Knarlick is hiding. What is his goal? If I can learn that, I can make preparations to thwart him.”

-Samuel-

Mathadiel lunged at Samuel, catching the mage by surprise, who had expected the beast to attack Bora Bora once more. But it made sense, he supposed. The tarrasque could sense that, without Samuel, his first enemy could have tired by now, and would be an easy target. Samuel himself was still relatively fresh, and would prove to be much more challenging prey. But if Samuel was kept busy, then Bora Bora would be unsupported, and could make a lethal mistake.

Except that Samuel had no intention of playing along with Mathadiel’s plan. He teleported thirty feet back in an instant, avoiding the jaws that closed around where he’d been a second before. Then, as Mathadiel opened his jaws again and released a jet of flame, Samuel pushed one hand out, countering the natural ability. The fire curved back on its originator, doing no damage, but still flooding the beast’s field of vision with the flames. Before they cleared, he was gone.

Samuel had intended to teleport, but something collided with him in the middle of his path, knocking him aside, spinning out of control. “What the?!”

Appearing out of thin air to his right was a man. A strikingly familiar man. Stephan Knarlick had just emerged from a portal, his body covered in chaos and his teeth bared. He’d exited from the Ethereal Plane, Samuel thought. He cursed himself for his lack of awareness. Of course Knarlick would have figured out a way to use the Plane for temporary travel, roping chaos to his side for quick travel. Samuel himself could have worked the spell out quickly too, had he not been distracted with the prospect of the war brewing.

Samuel just barely had enough time to send a quick silent message to Bora Bora, warning him that he would be out of the fight due to an unexpected enemy, when Knarlick charged him again. He disappeared from view for just a moment in his dash, dodging Samuel’s spell completely, then reappearing just in time to strike. His fist, which had been coated with mana, slammed into Samuel’s chest, and the force sent him flying back into the ground. Samuel felt one or two of his ribs crack at the impact, and cried out in pain. There was no time to deal with the injury, however, as Knarlick was already plummeting down to attack again.

Samuel vanished in the last few inches, and Knarlicks’ fist struck the earth itself. The force of his launch created a small crater, perhaps six feet wide. Samuel appeared at the very edge of it, letting a wide cone of fire out from his hands to coat the entire bowl. He could tell at once that his enemy had conjured a barrier to block them, and was charging directly at him once more. He sidestepped the headlong rush, and called the crystalline blade to his hand once more. He leapt forward, cutting twice, but neither blow managed to pierce Knarlick’s quickly conjured barrier.

Once again, Knarlick vanished from sight. Samuel held his ground, his senses strained to their highest limit, waiting for him to reappear. At first, it didn’t seem that he would. But then, from just behind him, he felt a distinct ripple, and the brief presence of Chaos, and whirled around. His free hand conjured a strong barrier just in time to block the sword that Knarlick thrust at him. Cursing, the foreign ruler jumped back, vanishing from sight once more. For good measure, Samuel flicked his hand up, raising a wall of stone all around him.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Thirty seconds or so passed before his final attack. Samuel kept his mana screen up, perfectly aware of any presences within fifty feet of him, but could sense nothing of his enemy. He was even on the watch for chaos appearing, to spot if Knarlick used the Ethereal Plane for quick travel. Then, out of nowhere, he felt something slam into his mind. The force was nothing like Edri’s, and he was very nearly captured. He twisted out of the iron grip, and flew straight into the air, putting some distance between the two of them. He still had no clue where Knarlick was, but he assumed that his mental attack required some semblance of close range to be effective. Let him come up to fight me again, Samuel thought.

The briefest flash of light, and Samuel countered the bolt of lightning that flew at him. It bent back at once, racing back to the point from which it had come. Knarlick obviously knew of his ability, so he was sure to have moved away to avoid the reflected attack. His suspicion was proven right a second later when another lightning bolt appeared, from the opposite direction. Samuel seized a hold of the mana that made the spell and threw it to the side. His pulse was up, but he forced his body to stay relaxed, taking slow, deep breaths. This was just a test of his reflexes. No point in getting so worked up on trivial matters.

A massive burst of wind was next, so dense that it was almost a spear. Samuel countered that as well, dispersing it harmlessly mere inches from his skin. Knarlick’s spells were by far the fastest he’d encountered. If his guard slipped for even an instant, his life would be in serious danger. He swatted aside a large fireball as it came, then dropped a few feet to avoid another bolt of lightning. Knarlick’s accuracy left much to be desired, he thought. Perhaps he wasn’t used to fighting targets that moved as swiftly as he did.

After about a dozen attacks, Samuel was able to pick out a pattern. After launching each spell, Knarlick would move to appear behind Samuel. So, accordingly, Samuel took control of the next spell, a fireball, and waited patiently. After two or three seconds, he thought he could spot movement on the plain below. That was Knarlick preparing to cast another spell. He condensed the fireball further to increase its explosive power, and sent it at his enemy.

The explosion was powerful enough to push even Samuel back a hundred feet up. There was a flicker of movement at its edge, obviously Knarlick. Before his enemy could vanish or attack again, Samuel teleported back down to the ground. He reappeared, already swinging his sword, and Knarlick parried his blade with a grunt of exertion. Samuel followed with a wide swing into a thrust, but neither blow landed. Knarlick seemed just as confident with the blade in his hand as he was with magic, Samuel thought. For lack of a better description, it felt as though he were fighting a clone of himself, save for the hatred burning in the others’ eyes.

“You will not earn Arcana’s favor by killing me,” Samuel said. He kept his voice as cool and unflustered as possible as he stepped out of range. “You cannot become his Champion just by growing your strength.”

“I’m plenty strong for him,” Knarlick snarled. His lilting voice, in direct contrast, was dripping with venom. “The world does not need you anymore, pretender.”

He lunged forward, the point of his sword stabbing out in a classic lunge. Samuel smacked the blade to the side, and released a powerful burst of Ki that knocked Knarlick back. He hadn’t expected to be able to reason with the man, he thought with a sigh. There really was only one course of action left to him. He jumped forward, pressing his advantage and hammering a storm of blows down on his foe. The Mitene Union King parried and sidestepped his blows with an ever-growing scowl, then tried to jump to the side and back in, catching Samuel unprepared. Unfortunately for him, Samuel moved his free hand under his sword arm, and let out another blast of Ki. He heard a definite cracki as it impacted, and was sure something had broken with that attack.

A stream of fire erupted from Knarlick’s hand, and Samuel vanished. He didn’t dare try to attempt to travel through the Ethereal Plane without the proper knowledge, so he settled for traditional teleportation. But he possessed unique abilities as well, skills that Knarlick couldn’t possibly know, given his short time among the Enari. As he reappeared behind Knarlick and struck with his sword, he channeled Ki into the blade. The bone-chilling shriek of metal on metal was quickly followed by a loud boom as the Ki exploded. Samuel, prepared and braced for the explosion, was able to remain on his feet. Knarlick, however, was blasted off of his, and sent flying several dozen feet back.

Samuel had angled his attack so that the blast would drive his opponent skyward, knowing that he could be ready for the next strike by the time he landed. Sure enough, as the foreigner reached the end of his arc, Samuel was there, sword raised to pierce through his foe. There was a great deal of force behind Knarlick’s movement, and Samuel’s blade was charged with more Ki. His enemy tried to block his thrust, but Samuel’s blade sheared through the plain steel easily, and struck home.

By the time Knarlick hit the ground, a spray of blood was issuing from where his right arm had previously been located on his body. It splattered onto the ground in an endless flow, and Knarlick’s face was pale. He coughed, producing more blood, and tried to push himself up on one arm. Samuel stopped him with the point of his sword between his shoulder blade. He put as much force as he could into his words, to convey that he was not against ending the man here and now.

“Surrender,” he said coldly. “And I will tend to your wounds. Or you may die, here and now.”

There was a pregnant pause as Knarlick continued to grunt. His mind reached out to batter against Samuel’s once more, but Samuel knocked the feeble attempt to the side. He pressed a little more firmly with his blade, slicing ever so slightly into the flesh. Knarlick let out a howl of pain as he felt the cold metal touch his spin, and finally went limp. Samuel kept his sword where it was, just above the heart, alert for any tricks.

“I surrender,” Knarlick said thickly, coughing up more blood. “I surrender.”

At once, Samuel conjured thick ropes to bind his good arm to his chest. They fastened tight, with the rope facing behind him where it couldn’t be reached. Then, still holding the blade ready to strike, Samuel raised his free hand. “Tagpi.”

At his command, the wound in Knarlick’s back sealed instantly. The defeated man let out a howl of pain as bone began to grow from his shoulder, stretching and thickening as muscle grew around it. Then the skin returned, fresh and new against his dirt-stained clothes. Samuel bound the new limb at once, then kicked Knarlick over onto his back. He stared directly into dazed eyes, and finally concluded that he would no longer pose a threat. Samuel hadn’t replenished the blood he’d lost, so he was bound to be very weak.

“Stay here,” Samuel said. “I have to finish the fight against Mathadiel. I will take you to Milagre when I return.”

He summoned several stout wooden spikes to pin him down, then took to the air once more. The fight against Mathadiel was almost exactly as he’d left it, with one key difference. The rainbow-scaled dragon was laying on the ground, her flank a bloody mess. Bora Bora hovered above her, fighting more directly to prevent Mathadiel from killing her. That was unusual, Samuel thought. He’d never known the former Champion of Bahamut to care for another beside himself. All the same, he raced back to the combat as fast as he could, and caught up with them in no time.

The wound in Mathadiel’s neck was deeper now, and great rivers of blood were falling to the plain below. The beast’s movements were less powerful now, and he was taking great care to protect the wound. He was weakened, and quite possibly close to death, but he refused to abandon the fight. He’d been tasked to protect his Queen, and he would do so until his dying death. He would devour this new puny god, and quietly die where he stood, having kept his oath.

A searing pain ripped through his body, and he let out a roar of pain. Samuel, approaching from behind, had peppered his neck with several powerful spells, opening the wound only further. There was a note of fear in his bellows as he turned and issued a flood of flames at the mage, but Samuel diverted the stream easily. Then his sword was in his hand, and through it, he shot a stream of raw Ki. It pierced through the wound to the other side, a bright beam of white light. Mathadiel staggered, stunned by the stab of pain.

“Now!” Samuel screamed, hoping beyond hope that Bora Bora could hear him. “Strike now!”

He sent a silent prayer to the Mother that Bora Bora understood his plan at once, and flew upward as fast as he could. Samuel put as much mana behind his attack as he could, bolstering the strength in Bora Bora’s body. Mathadiel whipped around at the last possible second, ending up face to face with his would-be killer. The maw was already open, and Samuel could see the jet of flame coming before anyone could react. Then Bora Bora was lost to sight completely.

“No!” Samuel screamed, so forcefully that his voice broke, and he felt blood coat the back of this throat. He surged forward at once. If Bora Bora was down, he’d have to be the one to finish it. He only made it a few feet, however, when he stopped, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

There, standing in the exact spot he’d occupied before, was Bora Bora. He was unscorched by the fire, which seemed to be sinking into his skin. There was a terrifying look upon his face, a look that only Mathadiel and, on the ground where she lay, Khanmara could see. The downed dragon saw Bora Bora’s lips move in some silent message to the beast, who recoiled slightly. What had previously been an ancient, powerful beast, was now a terrified animal, facing his conqueror. He could barely move, however, before Bora Bora threw the scythe one final time.

The spinning disk of steel seemed almost to expand, Samuel thought, collecting power as it flew, reaching almost twenty feet across. Then it sank into Mathadiel’s neck, vanishing from view. The beast let out a howl of agony at the weapon’s touch, but the sound was cut short. Then, with a powerful jerk, Bora Bora pulled the weapon back. It returned to his hand coated in the tarrasque’s blood. It glowed slightly with his power, which was now radiating off of his body like a physical cloak.

It seemed to take Mathadiel’s body an eternity to fall to the ground. It crashed, lifeless and limp, to the plains, sending great clouds of dust flying into the air, obscuring both it and its killer. Hours later, or so it seemed to the watchers, the dust dissipated. Bora Bora was on the ground beside his queen, his hand on her flank, staring at her eyes. She blinked slowly at him, then reverted to her human form, looking up at him with something close to adoration.

“You are ready now, my King,” she said, her melodic voice soft as the touch of a feather. She stood shakily, and put her hands to his face, drawing him in. She placed on benevolent kiss on his head, then stepped away, tears in her eyes. “Go now. Claim your legacy.”