Echoes of Death and Darkness

The sword’s glow had faded, and blood was running down its blade.

At last, a drop reached the tip and fell onto Lirilien’s chest, where it vanished into her cleavage.

What had stopped the sword a mere inch from the princess of the spirits’ neck was nothing but my hand.

Honestly, I had no idea how I hadn’t lost my fingers, and somehow I was left with nothing but a bleeding cut...

My opponent, on the other hand, was neither surprised nor impressed.

As always, his expression hadn’t changed in the slightest. But there was a glimmer in his eyes that made me think he had been expecting my reaction.

His next move confirmed my suspicion: the true target of that strike had never been Lirilien. It had always been me.

The young man opened his free hand, revealing a magic circle with a spell already activated and contained within it.

Before I could retreat, with a speed that rivaled even my own, almost superhuman, he struck me with that open palm.

The circle flared, unleashing a magical explosion.

Lirilien, and especially me (having taken the full brunt of the impact), were blown through the air.

She, having only received the explosion’s energy indirectly, managed to halt her flight by summoning the wind.

I, however, slammed hard against the corridor wall.

The impact was brutal, but I wasn’t embedded in the stone. Instead, I bounced off, along with fragments of shattered rock.

Yet my enemy didn’t let me fall. Right after the crash, he was already standing before me, his sword glowing once more.

“My lord!” Lirilien’s cry echoed from afar.

With a precise, unerring slash, the radiant blade cut through my arm at the shoulder and severed it completely from my body.

Just as the sword had risen, cutting through my arm, it was now poised to fall again, its blade aimed at my collarbone.

!!

But my presence-less foe wasn’t the only one who could summon a spell and keep it stored in his hand. I had prepared mine while still flying through the air.

When I opened my remaining hand, a ray of light shot straight at the young man, and he barely managed to deflect it with his sword.

Even so, the beam ricocheted off the wall and came flying back toward him, forcing him once again to parry it with the glow of his blade.

That scene kept repeating itself at blinding speed.

"It’s a shame. If I hadn’t lost the link with my other arm, the attack would have been doubled..."

"My lord! Are you all right?!" Lirilien rushed to my side, horrified to see my severed arm lying on the ground.

"Not really... so far it ranks number one among the pains I can actually remember..." I said, pressing my left hand against the place where my right arm had once been.

“Embers”

At my word, small flames flared from my hand, searing the wound in my torso and sealing the bleeding.

The truth is, I only feel pain, not weakness of any kind, but better safe than sorry. Besides, burning one’s wounds is a classic in medieval movies, so I might as well have the experience!

Ugh... Agh!!

I would have preferred a less painful experience, though...

I can feel it’s possible, but I still can’t handle primordial magic with enough finesse. If I hadn’t learned to use weaker spells in the common tongue, I would have had to summon flames that probably would have scorched half my body.

"All thanks to Meldior. I’ll always remember you."

"Not yet... don’t count me out just yet, lord..."

The old man’s voice came from the ground in the distance. He still seemed to struggle for breath, but as I suspected, he was alive.

"My lord!"

Lirilien called out to me just as our opponent cleaved in two the beam of light I had sent after him.

As I had expected, that spell had served for nothing but buying time.

I had inherited from Meldior skills in ancient tongues as well, such as Limentis, the light that had been battling our enemy moments ago. But even if I had used both hands with that spell, the result wouldn’t have been any different.

Still, that had been my intention from the beginning.

"I would like to take revenge with my own... hand for what you did to my arm. But a lord must also respect the wishes of his vassals, and there is someone far angrier than I am."

And I wasn’t referring to Lirilien, who was doing her best to restrain her urges to kill...

With a ferocious lash of a tail, the enemy who had been walking toward us just moments ago was suddenly flung at great speed, crashing over and over against the ground like one of those skipping stones.

The one who appeared in his place was Rafal, still bleeding from the chest but showing not the slightest hint of weakness.

At least, I thought it was Rafal. The horned helmet on his head, the wings on his back, the gauntlets ending in razor claws, and now the tail visible behind him gave him an almost unrecognizable appearance.

"A thousand apologies, my lord. My carelessness caused all of this." Rafal knelt before me.

"You’re still in rehabilitation... Ugh... it was to be expected," I answered with a reassuring smile, trying to endure the pain. "But don’t get complacent, the battle isn’t over yet."

In the distance, through the dust that had risen, we could see the silhouette of our enemy striding firmly toward us.

"Forgive me for contradicting you, my lord, but now that this being has hurt you, he has awakened my wrath. The battle already has its decided end," Rafal replied, rising to his feet and starting toward the enemy. "Besides, if I don’t do it, Lirilien might bring the whole dungeon down on us the moment she lays her hands on him."

"Hmph! It’s the least he deserves!" the princess retorted.

Good thing I didn’t bring Merite, together they’d be uncontrollable... Lirilien suddenly shows traces of her two protégées. Honestly, I don’t know who influenced whom.

***

"Ugh… my old bones aren’t meant to endure a beating of that magnitude," Meldior complained as he sat down beside us. "It’s my fault for underestimating this dungeon… I let my guard down just because I was at your side, my lord. What a shame at my age."

"That sword pierced even my outfit, which is an artifact in itself. Even for an archmage, there was nothing you could have done in that situation," I reassured the old mage, stroking Lirilien’s head with my only hand as she rested on me. "Besides, you’re the youngest of us all, you still have much to learn."

Krakoom!

"Ho, ho, ho, when you put it that way, I really have nothing to say," Meldior replied, stroking his beard. "Though I am surprised that sword could pierce your artifact, my lord. The protective enchantments woven into your outfit are extraordinary."

"True, but this outfit was never meant as primary defense. It’s designed to counter spells and curses, not to withstand direct strikes like the one I took."

Thooom!
Krakoom!

"With all those enchantments against direct damage?! Anyone could say it’s like a walking fortress!" the mage exclaimed in surprise.

"You haven’t seen the armor forged by the ten master smiths of the dwarves. Now that is truly something… Next time I’ll wear it over this outfit, as it was meant to be. I’ve learned my lesson."

Krrrshhh!

"The ten legendary master smiths who founded the dwarves’ mountain kingdoms… I thought they were just a legend," Meldior said in astonishment.

"Yes, it was a present from their High King," I replied with a smile.

Thooom!
Krrrshhh!
Krakoom!

The sounds of battle between what we had come to call the dungeon’s guardian and the ancient dragon echoed endlessly before us. The walls of the main corridor had long since crumbled, and the chambers once separated by them had merged into a single vast hall that now served as the stage for their clash.

"Are you sure it isn’t necessary to help him?" Meldior asked.

"In his eyes I saw the desire for a chance to redeem himself for everything he calls his failures… Besides, something tells me the battle is nearing its end."

Perhaps the experience of supposedly having fought in countless battles in ancient times had turned into instinct within my tangled mind.

"It truly is a powerful sword, an artifact among artifacts," Rafal said as he intercepted the strikes with the sharp claws of his gauntlets. "I don’t know if you’ve noticed, mysterious warrior, but it’s forged from dragon fangs."

The dungeon guardian, as if in response to Rafal’s words, made his sword blaze with a brilliance we had never seen before. Then, like any seasoned warrior saving his ace for the very end, the young man unleashed a slash that seemed to tear through the sound barrier.

Swoosh!

A luminous strike tore through the air at impossible speed, aimed straight at Rafal’s unprotected neck. It would reach him in less than a heartbeat.

Shrrring!

But instead of defending himself with his claws, the dragon caught the blade in his teeth. His claws, now glowing even brighter than the sword, lashed out instead and cut through our enemy’s defenses, leaving ten incandescent marks across his body.

"The fangs of the dragon sacrificed to forge that sword… They are nothing compared to mine," declared the ancient dragon, spitting out the weapon and descending to where the dungeon guardian had fallen.

***

There was no blood, no dust, not even a drop of sweat to show he had been fighting only moments ago.
The dungeon guardian’s appearance, kneeling before us, was immaculate.

Rafal stood behind our enemy, watching closely to ensure he made no strange move.
At my side, Lirilien held my severed arm, and to my left Meldior did the same with our enemy’s sword.

I was at the front, but it wasn’t me who had something to say. It was the princess of the spirits.

"I recognize you. You are the one who led the war against the Demon King Adelgorth on the side of the humans. One of the princes of Baresta, the hero Eldric."

"Why didn’t you tell me before?" I asked Lirilien, intrigued.

"Because you might have wanted to speak with him, my lord. And if Rafal had fallen, I wanted it to be my turn, so that I could inflict ten times the pain he caused you… Sadly, it never came to that. I have no wish to torture an already defeated enemy."

"I see… (mental note: don’t anger Lirilien)."

"Do not worry, dungeon guardian," Lirilien went on, "our intention is not to awaken the evil that slumbers. On the contrary, if there are still any traces of it, it will be us who erase them forever."

Only after those words did our fallen enemy raise his head to look at us. He knew there was no reason to lie to him now that we had defeated him.

"It’s too late... It was already too late, many years ago…"

The dungeon guardian, the hero Eldric, spoke with the same clear, steady voice, utterly devoid of emotion, that I had heard before.

Then he vanished completely, leaving not a trace behind.

"A ghost?" Rafal asked.

"No, even ghosts have presence," Meldior answered, stroking his beard. "This was an intent, the will of the hero who perished along with the Demon King. Ho, ho, ho, to think I would truly witness a phenomenon such as this."

"If even his will alone was that powerful, I would have liked to meet the man himself," I said as I drew from my shadow a long staff, Ainaviel, the scepter of the queen of the spirits. "Lirilien, how would you feel about being the healer of our party?"

"But my lord… I have done nothing to deserve the honor of wielding Ainaviel…"

"You have done more than enough as the leader of the spirits. Besides, having the healer of the party be the beautiful woman of the group is a stereotype I rather like. Or would you prefer Meldior to be the one to reattach my arm?"

"Oh, Lord, it would be an honor for me!" said Meldior eagerly.

"I’ll do it!" Lirilien hurried to answer. "But I want Ainaviel to remain with you, my lord. I feel as though it’s my mother herself watching over you… Just lend it to me when we are forming this party."

"If that makes you feel at ease," I replied, stroking the princess’s head with the hand I still had.

From a distance, one might have seen a radiant green light illuminating the darkness.
Both Rafal’s wounds and my severed arm soon began to heal.

Meldior grumbled, but his old bones were perfectly fine.

***

At the same time that the glowing circles in the mysterious chamber finished lighting up, in the hall at the dungeon’s core an ancient skeleton rose from the throne.

Its bony feet, clad in boots of armor black as night, descended the steps with heavy strides, passing near a pile of bones still draped in what remained of a hunter-green cloak fastened with a golden brooch in the shape of a bird.

He is coming, defeat him before he grows again…

A deep, sinister voice echoed through the chamber.

"I am… the Demon King… Adelgorth…" the skeleton answered, while the gaps in his dark armor began to repair themselves.

From the empty sockets of his skull, red lights flared to life, blazing with fury.

"No…! I am the Lich King! The Lich King Adelgorth!"

As soon as those words were uttered by one of the most powerful demon kings ever to ravage Ameritia, countless skeletons began to rise, while rotting creatures took form within the miasma of evil that filled the throne room.

Defeat him, make him into nothing.

Now another voice echoed through the chamber, steeped in malice and just as sinister as the one before.

"Death has made me free. I’m going to take it all! For me! Not for you!"

Adelgorth raised one hand, and a portal opened in the middle of the throne room.

Beyond it stretched a tranquil forest, bathed in sunlight that streamed through the treetops.

His newly awakened undead army marched forward, vanishing one by one as they passed through the portal.

You won’t be able to defeat our brother if you leave now.

"Gods of darkness, I’m not your slave any longer," declared Adelgorth, just as the restored helm of his armor finished covering his skull.

The horns and the crimson glow in his eye sockets were all that remained visible of the demon now fully encased in jet black armor.

"Your time is over. I’m going to become the new god."

Those words were the last heard from the Lich King before the portal shut.

...

But it wasn’t long before the echo of a macabre laugh began to resonate through the chamber.

Soon another joined it.

And then another.

The echo of death, of pain, and of the deepest darkness rumbled through the empty throne room.