My Way

Mnguni braced himself as he was sent rolling away from Imbuka. The King stood and looked up at his brother. Imbuka’s armor had become dented and breached, several pieces now laying on the ground from where The General had ripped them off. The golden glow emitting from under his chestplate grew softer with each passing moment, as Imbuka struggled to catch his breath.

“Imbuka,” The Chronomancer begged, “Do not fall in the servitude of these tyrants. End this farce! The power you wield is unstable and could spell your doom!”

Soldiers of the two invading armies had long since surrounded The General, but none could get close enough to land a solid hit without getting struck by one of The man’s deadly blows. Imbuka looked down at Mnguni’s spear, stepping on the hilt and splintering the wood under his sabaton.

“Fool of a warlock, I am the Tyrant!” Imbuka shouted, banging his fist against his dented chestplate. “I am The General! I have led the armies of The Capital against most of the known world! The boy you knew is gone, left behind in the barren desert. The man that came through the other side, scorched and forsaken, forged his own destiny. One of power, and strength!”

Mnguni reached into his belt and unsheathed a golden dagger, holding it close to his chest. He darted forward while Imbuka was distracted with his monologue, leaping silently and sending the dagger down towards his brother’s neck. The General’s arm rose to meet the plunging blade, grabbing Mnguni’s wrist and twisting the dagger out of his grasp. The King cried out as his arm was twisted, doing his best to move with the motion.

“Everything I did, I would do again,” Imbuka muttered. “Do not doubt for a moment that I have even a shred of regret.” The General thrust his blade forward to meet The King’s chest, only to watch the blade shatter into golden sand upon contact. Imbuka turned to glare at the Chronomancer, but the old wizard was bent over his knees as the exhaustion set in from shifting so many grains in the timeline. Confusion set in as he looked at his sword hilt, watching as the rest of the weapon slowly fell through his fingers before they too, started to fall away. Mnguni watched as the sand claimed more and more of his brother, reaching desperately for the necklace he could see dangling under Imbuka’s chestplate.

“Brother, the idol!” he wheezed. The General landed another kick to Mnguni’s sternum, sending him rolling away in the dirt. A gust of wind swept across the street, taking away larger chunks of Imbuka’s arm. Mnguni looked up to see the face of Imbuka staring back at him, as each pore on his skin shifted into grains of sand.

“No, it was always meant to be this way, don’t you think?” The General said with a wavering voice. “Just another echo in time.” Skin and armor alike fell into the ever-growing pile of golden sand that was once General Imbuka, until only the glowing talisman remained. Mnguni stood and walked over to the pile, clutching his wrist. The idol that sat at the peak of the pile was that of a black trilobite, long since stolen from the vaults of Ubukhazikhazi. The Chronomancer limped over, leaning heavily on his staff as Ubuk soldiers flanked him in case he fell.

“I’m sorry, my King,” the old man said. Mnguni shook his head as he looked down at the golden pile.

“Imbuka always denied his fate. Stubborn, but proud,” Mnguni said. He turned to look up at the castle and began to walk towards it, taking a spear from the first Ubuk soldier he passed.

“Collect him properly, and prepare him with the other soldiers for funeral rights,” Mnguni commanded. As he marched up the slope leading to the destroyed main gate a figure stumbled out of a floral gate leading to a cathedral. It was Akaj, gripping Flameweaver as he limped out into the main road. The Flame Prince peered around before spotting Mnguni approaching, offering a little wave as he tried his best to grin through his injuries.

“Flame Prince,” Mnguni said, “What is the situation?”

“I’m not sure, I just woke up. Last thing I remember is taking a hit from the massive weapon inside the main gates,” the elemental answered. A priestess rushed from the floral gate, catching up to Akaj and tugging on his shoulder. Her cheeks were stained by tears, but her face held strong despite her pain.

“Hey! You can’t just walk away, you’re still injured,” she scolded. Akaj tried to shrug off the woman with his hand, but she grabbed his forearm instead.

“Look, see? You’re burnt. How is that even possible?” she remarked. He sneered, weakly pulling his hand away from her but failing to free it from her grasp.

“Your goddess’ fire can still burn me, little priestess,” he said, looking back at Mnguni. The King looked at him sternly.

“I will press forward,” The King said, “You may join us after you receive additional treatment from the girl.” Akaj groaned loudly before allowing himself to be pulled back into the garden.

“Fine. I will catch up to you!” the Flameweaver shouted. Mnguni sighed before continuing up the hill. As he passed the main gate he was met with the last remaining forces of The Capital army fighting against the vanguard of Ubuk and Corvidrop’s forces.

“The General has fallen! We make for the king!” Mnguni shouted as he pressed through the fighting, eliciting cheers from the soldiers on his side. As The King breached the door leading deeper into The Keep, he was met by the clashing of blades. Vardia the Custodi was locked in a mobile fight with another combatant. The enemy was older, a man of The Capital to be sure but with armor and weaponry The King had not seen in these lands before. Vardia glanced at the approaching Mnguni.

“Sir! Fulcher went forward, I can handle–” Vardia started before he was forced to dodge. The tip of the enemy katana managed to catch his cheek, leaving a mark from ear to chin.

“Focus,” the enemy man grunted as he continued to strike for the Princeguard’s head. Mnguni could see the cuts along the length of Vardia’s spear, and his noticeable lack of a helmet. The boy had likely been dodging and blocking similar strikes from this combatant, and the exhaustion of moving in that much armor was starting to show. Despite the enemy breathing at a steady and calm pace, Vardia huffed and heaved with every opportunity between strikes. But he said he could handle this mysterious man, and Mnguni was not about to doubt the capabilities of his allies.

He charged deeper into the keep, until he encountered an opening in two massive doors. Slipping inside, he entered The Great Hall.