M. P. Sorenson: Published Works

The Ten Guardians: Sacrifice©

Chapter Nineteen: Bitter-Almost-Sweet Reunion

Grey and Sparrow marched side by side across the meadow. Sparrow attempted to cast the armor spell on himself that he had seen Jareth cast but with no luck. He had successfully created the lightning staff Jareth had used, but he had no idea how strong it would be or how many times he could hit something with it before its energy depleted. He had dissipated it soon after creating it so the warlocks would not see it coming and prepare for it.

Biggs had disappeared soon after they began walking, but even with him hidden from sight, Sparrow could hear his voice still singing that random song about killing warlocks in different ways. Some of the verses he created were disturbing, especially in that staggered, childish tone of voice he often used.

 

Grey was throwing information at him, speaking quickly. It was as if she was unsure if she could get it all out before her tongue fell out of her head, and whatever she wanted to say would be stuck in her brain forever.

“Warlocks are fans of capturing revenants and mythical beasts to keep as pets, even altering their bodies by adding animal body parts or magical properties to them, trying to make them more dangerous for their duels. Their revenant duels are an annual tradition with them. They even invite representatives from the major northern cities to attend, but no one has ever come that I know of. There could even be a lich or two, but they usually send those warlocks alone since a lich could steal another warlock’s revenants in a battle, intentional or not. Are you listening to me, boy?” she snapped angrily.

“Yes, yes, lots of twisted revenants, maybe a lich. I’m just trying to make this spell work,” Sparrow said in frustration while shaking a tingling feeling from his hand from his last attempt.

Grey looked at Sparrow, and she seemed to be looking through him as if she could see the spell he had been working on.

“Well, look how much energy you have focused on the density of the spell that wouldn’t work for boiling water, let alone a class three spell shield like that,” she said reproachfully, which made Sparrow miss Jareth’s gentle teaching style.

“I thought I wanted it to be dense? Isn’t that the point of a shield?” Sparrow asked with sincerity.

 

“Yes, that is the point of a shield, but not the point of a spell, any spell for that matter. There must be a balance to cast any spell, from floating pots to building walls, and it doesn’t matter if the balance is dense or soft, but soft is significantly less taxing on the body and will give you the same result. Now try again,” she said bluntly.

“How can you even see what I am doing?” Sparrow asked.

“What can I say? I am an enigma of nature. I can see you working the spell, I am extensively educated on how spells work, but I cannot cast one to save my life. Thankfully I have Biggs to take care of me, or I do not know what I would have done,” she said with relief.

Sparrow tried doing what she suggested, balancing all aspects of the spell so that the density he had been using was lessened and more spread out, and the rest of the spell matched it. There was a flicker of the spell that winked in and out of existence around him, but after a moment it fizzled to nothing again.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” Sparrow said in frustration.

“Don’t worry about it, boy. I often see magi do amazing things when their life is being threatened. Trust me; when the fireballs and revenants are all around you, you will know how to cast that spell, although you will probably do something else entirely,” she said with uncharacteristic warmth.

Sparrow took her advice to heart, and they silently walked across the massive meadow. Sparrow was lost in his thoughts of the vision he had seen on the edge of this meadow after chasing the flower path.

 

“Are meadows usually this large? Sparrow asked

There was a long pause, and Sparrow thought she was ignoring him.

“Do you know how this meadow came to be?” Grey asked.

Her eyes looked far away as if she remembered something, and Sparrow suspected she was not seeking a response. She continued speaking right away, confirming his suspicions.

“During all of my years in Bree’s school, I must have peered into hundreds of Elders and High Elder’s dreams, enough to sift facts from fantasy about many topics. One day a visiting professor from Dule Van gave a seminar to the Elders of the school. The topic was the results of tests done on the plants in this meadow and samples from some nearby garden.

“I couldn’t tell you what was taught, but I can tell you what was dreamt by half of the elders in the school for weeks. From what I was able to piece together, this meadow was created when a powerful bolt of magical energy, a bolt tinged with creative properties, slammed into the earth from above. It has shrunk considerably since that day, so only a specific area in its center holds … whatever it is they have found. On the other hand, the garden holds decaying matter from two great beings, each with properties that are the antithesis to each other, but somehow coexisting”.

How she spoke of properties and samples told Sparrow that she was comfortable using scientific terms, especially after what Biggs said concerning empirical evidence back in the underground shelter. She had sounded so heated when she talked about Jonathan before, and Sparrow realized that Grey probably knew him so well because she had classes with him since they seemed to share the same interests in research.

“More than you can see-see, proceed most carefully-ly,” Biggs said from thin air in his lofty voice.

Sparrow and Grey crested a small rise and found it was the edge of a massive crater. Centuries of generations of plants and animals’ life cycles had filled in the bottom of the basin, so it was not nearly as deep and sloping as it had once been, but the signs of a great impact were still clearly visible.

They were still far enough away that the details they could see were limited, but in the center of the crater was what Sparrow assumed to be a pair of warlocks, each with a small impish-looking creature leashed to their wrists with a glowing rope of some kind. The warlocks were both sitting on chairs and where the chairs had come from was unknown. A white flag was attached to a pole jutting from the ground between the two warlocks, and they sat relaxed as if they had no cares in the world.

Grey grumbled something under her breath before walking towards the seated pair, but all Sparrow could make out was “… and their bloody code … hate talking … over with.”

Sparrow followed her down the hill, the details of the seated pair increasing as they drew closer. They were both men, bare-chested and just past the prime of their life with graying hair. They both wore more makeup than any person Sparrow had seen before. Most of the makeup was white or black, often used concurrently to create images or patterns on their face, chest, and arms. Their eyes were heavily detailed in eyeliner, accenting their age lines intentionally as if their years were a badge of honor. They both had smoky white eyes and similar features, enough so that Sparrow wondered if they were twin brothers. They each had earrings and necklaces with symbols of winged lizards and human skulls intermittently thrown into the mix.

The chairs they sat on were made entirely of large bones, and the bones appeared to have been somehow fused since there was no rope or bindings of any kind holding them together. As menacing as the chairs were intended to be, the warlocks had not sacrificed their comfort in their creation, as each chair had billowing cushions on the seat and backrest.

The impish creatures leashed to their wrists appeared to be small humanoids. Their open eyes and mouths were pits of fire, singeing the grass they were lying on as they exhaled their burning breath. Their skin was bright white without makeup on, which made little sense since they had no aversion to the sun over their heads. They seemed content to stretch in the sun while waiting for their master’s command.

The warlocks stood in unison and bowed low to them, or more specifically, to Sparrow.

“Welcome, Lord Ultaris. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh,” the one on the left said while bowing. They both straightened and sat on their chairs again. “Dreamer, thank you for bringing our Lord to us. You have done well, child,” the same man said without looking at her.

 

“I am NOT one of you anymore! Grey shouted angrily.

The warlocks ignored her outburst as if she had never spoken, still not making eye contact with her. Sparrow was unsure if their smoky white eyes meant they were blind, thus simply not used to looking at someone in the face, or if they could see and were avoiding her face because of the curse upon her.

She visibly composed herself, remembering that shouting never worked with these two lunatics.

“I told Shemneth I would kill the next one of you that came into my meadow, Lin. Now I don’t care if you are immune to the curse you so lovingly bestowed upon me. This is your last chance to leave,” she said with tight lips, struggling to control her anger.

“We did exactly as we promised, child. We blessed you to deal with spurned love, just as you asked,” the one on the right said calmly.

“Temper, temper, Lon, there is no need to get emotional,” Lin told his compatriot.

“You ‘blessed’ me to kill or be killed by any man who gazed upon my face and made me immortal so I would always be alone. Your words, your promises, your blessings … are poison,” Grey said calmly, finally having composed herself in the face of her enemies.

“I grow tired of your prattle, child. Leave us so we may converse with Lord Ultaris, and the blessing you so willingly spurn will be … resolved … on the morrow.” Lin said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Sensing his tone, the imp at his side darted forward until it stood between its master and Grey, hissing a torrent of fuming air and flame in her direction.

The impish creature started to choke, and the flames in its mouth and eyes died out. The beast fell to the ground with a gurgling scream as steam and water poured from its mouth and eyes. The golden rope connecting to a collar around its neck lost its glow, leaving a simple rope connecting the warlock and his dead pet.

The water that had poured from the pet’s face floated into the air and collected itself into a transparent shape that quickly turned into Biggs. He was hovering in the air facing Grey and Sparrow with a finger to his lips and a wide grin to indicate that only they could see him.

Lin and Lon had not reacted to the death of Lin’s pet. They hadn’t even turned their heads to look at the dying creature, whatever it had been. There was a long moment of silence where no one spoke or moved, then Lon rose from his chair and turned his face toward Grey for the first time. He had no negative reaction to looking her in the face, and Sparrow began to wonder if he truly was blind.

“A vein luxury, to be sure, but do you have any idea how many people were sacrificed to create what you so wantonly destroyed? I am starting to feel your … ingratitude …  most deeply,” he said with an actual look of injury on his face.

Sparrow thought the man was going to become emotional over the subject, and he was not sure if it was over the thought of Grey’s actions, the loss of his brother’s pet, or both.

“I needed a new chair anyway,” he said with a disarming tone of voice as if he was discussing the weather instead of sentencing her to death.

“Let her cull the ranks before we craft your chair, brother. We need a blood sacrifice for the ritual,” Lin said from his chair.

“Very well, brother, very well,” Lon replied.

Lon lifted a single finger in the air, and a massive illusion began dissipating behind him as if a curtain separating two halves of the crater was being lifted. Behind the curtain was an entire village of warlocks. They appeared to have recently arrived as wagons were still being unloaded, and fresh canvas tents dotted the field with an occasional fire pit still being constructed. Many of the wagons had revenants lashed to them like horses, some with actual body parts of horses sewn onto them. They could see at least two chained lich in the crater and at least a hundred revenants being used as manual labor, tilling the earth for gardens and digging wells for irrigation.

The magical wall had also been blocking sounds and smells because they could suddenly hear the din of conversation. Then the stench of the revenant’s undead flesh reached their senses like a hammer. The other warlocks felt the wall come down and turned to see what had caused it, and their eyes fell on Grey.

The moment the male warlocks in the crater looked at her face, they all became affected by her curse, mumbling to themselves as if they were conversing with someone. Eventually, those male warlocks would either attack Grey because they thought she was something else, overcome the curse and still attack her, or end their lives.

Lin arose to stand beside his brother, removed the useless rope from around his wrist, and dropped it on the ground near the body of his dead pet. Then he and Lon turned and walked away from Grey as if she no longer existed. The remaining fire imp followed them with a bone chair in each arm, a feat that belied its small stature.

Grey thought sincerely of stabbing one of them in the back but knew she would have failed as they were far more aware than they let on. Instead, she took that moment to cuff her skirt between her legs so she could fight unencumbered.

The first male warlock affected by her curse stabbed himself in the chest with an insane laugh escaping his lips. Whatever he saw from her curse caused him to rejoice at the chance to take his own life. A second male warlock seemed to conclude that he had to kill whatever he saw with Grey’s curse. He had lit his hands on fire with some sort of oilcloth and ran directly at Grey with two revenants at his heels.

His attack seemed to spur the rest of the camp into action, and in a rush, the female warlocks started commanding the revenants to attack while grabbing weapons from their wagons. Most of the weapons they grabbed were small hand-to-hand combat weapons, including metal claws, small daggers, spiked rings, and short whips with pieces of glass and metal tied into the braids. One or two of the warlocks had spears, but for the most part, they seemed to prefer close-quarter weapons.

Besides the single warlock with the burning hands and an insane look on his face, their priority was a hundred revenants running headlong toward them.

“You may leave if you wish. They are after me, not … their Lord Ultaris,” Grey said with perfect sincerity as she tested the handle of her dagger.

The transparent Biggs growled softly at her comment, but she completely ignored him.

Sparrow gave her a surprised look.

“You want me to walk away while they turn you into a chair? Besides, I feel the ritual they are planning ‘on the morrow’ will not end well for either of us,” he said quickly, aware of the wall of enemies drawing closer.

“Good, because I would have killed you if you turned away just to keep you out of their hands,” she said as if stating the obvious.

Sparrow had a newfound understanding of why she had been brandishing that dagger when she asked if he wanted to walk away, and he decided never to underestimate the woman. Time for thought was over as the revenants and fire hands reached them. Grey jumped into the air towards the warlock, somersaulting with her dagger flashing in a blur, cutting off one of the warlocks flaming hands before she continued flipping through the ranks of the revenants, slicing and dodging to the tune of a deadly dance.

Biggs had become completely physical just before he shot through the air at the warlock who was cauterizing his dismembered limb with his other flaming hand, intent on returning to the fray of battle without bleeding to death. Just before Biggs impacted with the man, he turned himself into a flammable liquid of some kind which ignited on impact with the warlock’s flaming hand. He rained down like a sticky burning liquid over the warlock and a dozen revenants. The revenants did not feel pain, so they continued to fight as if nothing had happened, which spread the flames to those around them.

It would take time, but that act alone would burn almost a third of the revenants. The only downfall was Biggs had to stay as the flammable liquid until the first dozen revenants he touched were dead.

Sparrow found himself on his own, running and dashing through revenants with twisted arms, legs, and faces, all grabbing him with hands, claws, teeth, and beaks. He had his lighting staff in his hand and was beating at any revenant that came too close, sending them shooting backward from the shock of the pure electricity, but he knew it wasn’t enough. His staff was losing power, and he would eventually be overwhelmed.

He thought briefly of slowing down time and imagined himself in a transportable enclosure with a door as he ran and fought. He cast the spell and slammed the door, but nothing happened. He was unsure if it was the meadow itself, being in an open space, or the fact that he was running for his life from a hundred revenants, but the spell would not work.

Grey suddenly jumped over him in a somersault, sinking her dagger into the eye of a revenant with the arm of a bear just before it took Sparrow to the ground. She made it look effortless, but Sparrow could see beads of perspiration on her forehead and hear her labored breathing thanks to his enhanced senses.

              “Run faster, fight bigger, do something else,” she shouted at him as she led a pack of revenants in another direction.

Sparrow had done so few spells that he would have considered helpful in this situation, but he did remember one of them. Sparrow willed his muscles to run, and so he did. It wasn’t fast enough, though, so he willed himself harder, pushing himself to run as fast as he could, and then some.

              He was running in and out between revenants that appeared to be moving in slow motion, and then he was among warlocks, then revenants again, and he realized he was running in a circle around the crater faster than the eye could follow. As amazing as this feat was, it was not helping Grey with the battle, so he needed to do something else.

He looked into the crater’s center, which appeared slanted now that he was running at an angle with the ground to avoid falling over, and he spotted the white flag next to Lin and Lon. He changed direction and grabbed the pole as he ran by, finding it made of sturdy metal.

From Grey’s perspective, she saw a blur dart past her on her right and the sound of bone-crushing impact landing on the revenant she was about to engage, and before the gust of wind following the blur could hit her, she saw the blur on her other side and heard another sickening thud.

Grey smiled as she realized Sparrow was helping her and turned her attention to the remaining warlocks who had not died by their own hand. They appeared to be waiting for the revenants to fail or succeed before joining the fray.

“Biggs!” Grey called to her companion as she walked purposefully towards the line of warlocks, with Sparrow providing a guard against the revenants that pursued her.

Biggs instantly left the smoldering bodies he had been consuming with fire and appeared at her side.

“Too many dearests, too many with the lichsssss,” Biggs hissed softly, looking at the twenty or so warlocks and the now three liches floating in the air amongst them.

Sparrow was continuing to beat at the revenants with his enhanced speed when suddenly Lin was running beside him, keeping pace with Sparrow as if he had done this his whole life. The warlock was staring straight ahead, and without turning his head, he thrust the tip of a dagger into Sparrow’s side. Sparrow had the briefest realization that Lin could see him perfectly without actually looking at him before the pain of the dagger’s blade caught up to him, and he fell to the ground.

Because of his enhanced speed, Sparrow plowed into the earth like a rock skipping off a pond. He launched dirt and revenants into the air as he skidded through the battle before plowing into the edge of the crater’s wall like a boulder from a catapult. Grey nearly lost an arm from the closest revenant before she realized Sparrow was no longer helping her keep them at bay, and she had no choice but to turn her attention away from the patiently waiting warlocks and deal with the revenants again.

Biggs, on the other hand, had created a shield in the air between Grey and the warlocks to stop the impact of purple fireballs thrown by the lich. He was casting his fireballs in return, which the lich was shielding themselves and the warlocks against.

Only half of the revenants were down, and some were clamoring back to their feet with broken bones, not fully finished off. Grey realized that she was very tired and frantically looked around for Sparrow, not knowing where he had gone.

She did a backflip to take out a revenant that had somehow managed to get behind her, but while in the air, she heard something whizzing by her head and a green runed arrow lodged in the revenant’s skull.

Grey landed on her feet and looked up to find four individuals standing on the southern edge of the crater above, where a large patch of earth had been overturned. She could see Sparrow’s crooked arm protruding out of the dirt and hoped he was still alive.

Of the individuals on the ridge, there was a kanidian who was releasing a second arrow at another revenant behind Grey. Next to the kanidian was a skinny, bearded man with a green sword in his hand and circles of what appeared to be water floating around him. A bald Jareth, bedecked from head to toe in numerous defensive spells, had a glowing green staff in his hand. Beside him was his watery-tart of a trophy wife holding a pair of glowing, green scythes.

Grey was so shocked at their sudden appearance that she stared with her mouth open. Izreea was using the scythes to magically sift the dirt below Sparrow so that he was on the surface of the hole, then the runes on the scythes turned white as Izreea closed her eyes and touched the back of the scythes to Sparrow’s body.

“To them, we must go-go, soon-soon. I’ll block the curse on their group … for now,” Biggs said with a strain in his voice as he blocked two more fireballs.

“You’ll BLOCK the curse? You can do that! Grey shouted angrily, feeling betrayed and confused as she started dashing towards the four newcomers, rarely having to dodge since the kanidian was bringing down so many revenants.

“It is is most difficultyyy loooove, and won’t last long-long, but yes,” Biggs said with an effort.

By this time, the warlocks had begun to respond to the new threat by splitting into two groups. Half stayed behind the revenants as a reserve, and the other half began advancing on the party of four. Each group also took a lich to provide artillery fire and shields.

 

By the time Grey reached the group, Sparrow had been pulled from the hole he had made and was lying unconscious on the ground. He appeared to be breathing steadily, so she assumed that Izreea had somehow healed him. She was apprehensive of her curse affecting the men, but nothing happened. She decided to have a long conversation with her guardian afterward.

“Well, if it isn’t the long-lost boyfriend and his troupe of-” Grey began to say before Izreea cut her off.

“Insults later, Dreamer!” Izreea shouted with a newfound aura of authority that she had lacked the last time Grey had confronted her. “Myrum, Stay here and focus on the Lich while you guard Sparrow. Remember, he is the reason why we are here. Colson and Jareth will deal with the revenants, while Grey and I will deal with the locks on the right. Let the locks hiding behind the revenant rot until they are smart enough to fight,” Izreea said as she turned her scythes light blue.

Grey seethed inside, but the strategy was sound, and they were the most appropriately trained to deal with the warlocks.

Jareth completely ignored Grey, knowing the time for awkward greetings could wait, and entered the fray with his staff expertly swinging in his hands. Where the staff impacted thorns as long as fingers with barbs on the ends erupted out of rotting flesh. The thorns were intended to be debilitating, if not deadly, and served their purpose well. Colson was right beside him with his sword flying and a bubble of water all around him. The water was spinning fast enough to stop projectiles and arms, and he scanned the ground as he fought for small stones that he could use the spinning water to fling hard enough to kill.

Grey and Izreea were dancing a deadly dance with the warlocks, all well-trained in hand-to-hand combat and close-range weapons. Grey had picked up a second dagger from the first warlock she had defeated and held two warlocks at bay. Biggs kept the lich’s fireballs from touching her and Izreea while occasionally drawing enough strength to cast one of his own at a flanking warlock.

Izreea’s fighting style did not include the leaps and flips the warlocks, and Grey used. Instead, she kept her body in a bent-knee position with her torso twisted to the side and one of her legs extended outward at all times. Her entire focus was on her arms and wrists being loose until the last possible moment of impact before they would become solid as a rock, hitting hard enough to break bones. The light blue runes added an electric shock to her impact, making her all the more dangerous to fight against.

Half of the warlocks in that group had been taken down by Grey, Biggs, and Izreea, and the rest were falling back to join the waiting group of warlocks behind the revenants. Grey and Izreea were in pursuit when Lin and Lon dashed in front of them. They had no weapons but came at Izreea and Grey as if their foes had none as well. They seemed to stare past their opponents as if they could not see them but moved with precision and expertise, proving they could see perfectly.

They were incredibly fast, darting in to land three or four blows before moving aside to dodge an errant attack. They moved with inhuman speed as they circled behind their dazed prey to land several more blows while laughing. They seemed in no hurry to end the battle and were relishing in the blood of their own soaking the ground.

Biggs appeared in the air in front of Grey as an orange shield to protect her from Lin’s blows, but Lin spoke in an unknown language and touched Bigg’s barrier, which shattered. Biggs howled in pain as he vanished.

Grey knew he was not dead, but he had been severely injured and could no longer help.

Jareth and Colson had finished killing or rooting the revenants with Myrum’s help, and now they faced the remaining twenty warlocks. He had learned much from their encounter with the first warlock and was well prepared for how quickly they moved. His staff whirled as a quarterstaff, attacking and defending in two directions simultaneously while creating barbs wherever a blow landed. His layered spell shields protected him from blows he could not dodge, but he knew he could only take so many hits before they gave way.

Colson was growing tired as he constantly fought more than one warlock with his sword. He was using Life’s gift to temporarily blind his foes with streams of water or soak their clothing so they moved sluggishly in combat, taking any advantage he could to stay alive.

Myrum had succeeded in taking down one of the lich with almost a dozen green-runed arrows, and the lich was on the ground with roots wrapping around it wherever an arrow protruded from its body.  She scanned the battlefield but could not see the other two lich, so she turned her attention to her companions.

Izreea and Grey seemed in the worst position, with two blurry men speeding around them, moving too fast for her to hit with an arrow. She also knew they moved too quickly for her to help with her axe or even her fists. So instead of helping them directly, she decided that bringing down the warlocks was the fastest way to get Jareth and Colson free to help them.

Myrum drew her bow and aimed an arrow at the closest warlock that was trying to flank Jareth, but before she could lose the arrow, two lich fireballs hit her full force in the back.

              Myrum was thrown forward off the crater’s edge by the explosion’s force, two massive wounds on her back and fire spreading across her fur-covered body. She screamed an instinctive high-pitched howl, her people’s way of calling for help over great distances, but she remembered to drop the pitch enough for Colson’s human ears to hear it before she passed out.

Colson heard her cry for help and turned to see the daughter he had raised burning on the ground and two lich picking up Sparrow’s unconscious body, carrying him between them towards the campsite. Colson immediately launched towards Myrum, flinging his wall of water in front of him to extinguish the flames on her back. He was not close enough for the water to reach her, but he continued to try as he sprinted towards her until he was in range, oblivious of the battle going on around him as he fell to her side in a pile of steam.

Without Colson to cover his right flank, Jareth was falling back from the onslaught of four warlocks while trying to keep others from circling behind him. The thorns he produced on impact were the only thing keeping his enemies at bay, but even that wouldn’t last long if he did not get help soon.

Grey and Izreea were standing back-to-back, completely overwhelmed by the onslaught of their inhumanly fast enemies who were openly taunting them now. Izreea and Grey were each covered in bruises over their arms, ribs, and shoulders and had multiple cuts on their faces from their beatings.

Lin and Lon suddenly stopped their onslaught and looked up toward the ridge with a smile. Grey risked a glance in that direction and found Sparrow being carried by two lich towards the warlock’s abandoned campsite while Colson was putting a fire out on Myrum’s body as she lay on the ground twenty paces from where she had been standing on the ridge. Jareth was also in full retreat from a dozen warlocks closing ranks to take him down.

We have to regroup if we have any chance of winning this, she thought to herself, too tired to say it out loud.

Izreea, on the other hand, had not looked around when the warlocks had stopped attacking to look at the ridge. The moment they were stationary and no longer hitting her, she threw as much energy as she could summon into her light blue scythes, which seemed to pulse with power and cast a bolt of lightning at the distracted warlocks.

The bolt was wide enough to touch both of them, but only Lin reacted to the bolt, flying backward as his makeup began smoking in response to the electricity burning through his body. Lon appeared unfazed by the bolt and may have grown stronger as he absorbed its energy.

The warlock turned to look at his fallen brother, unsure if he was dead or alive, and turned back to Izreea with a smile.

“Tit for tat, my dear. Tit for tat.”

The warlock blurred away as he darted across the battlefield with his inhuman speed, his arm glowing a light blue just before his fist slammed into Jareth’s chest with the full force of the bolt of lightning that he had absorbed from Izreea.

The only thing that kept him from dying on impact was that he was still wearing a spell shield around his body since he had not been hit by any spells yet. He went flying through the air, unconscious and severely injured.

Izreea wanted to run to Jareth’s side, but she knew their only chance was to stick together, not to mention that he was on the other side of an army of warlocks. She instead followed Grey as the two of them ran to Colson and Myrum. Izreea had her white scythes pressed against Myrum’s body before her knees fully touched the ground, healing and rejuvenating her as quickly as possible.

The two lich had placed Sparrow in an unknown location and had returned to stand next to Lon in front of his remaining warlocks. Lon had a wide grin on his face, clearly reveling in the bloodshed taking place around him. Lon pointed to the battlefield littered with bodies of revenants and warlocks and commanded his lich in an unknown language. The lich threw back their heads and howled an inhuman scream of the dead. Waves of energy pulsed from their bodies, knocking the closest warlocks off their feet and pinning them to the ground as the pulses intensified. The buffet of power did not phase Lon in the slightest.

Colson was helping a groggy Myrum with two missing patches of fur on her back to sit up, but she was still in no shape to fight. The rest were nursing their injuries while staring at the two lich, wondering what was happening. Then the Lich stopped their wailing, and specks of smoky light appeared on the battlefield, hanging in the air as if they had been there the entire time and were only now visible. The lich waved their hands downward in perfect unison, and the specks dove into bodies on the battlefield. There was a long silence while everyone waited to see what was happening. Then the field appeared to swim as every corpse on the ground started moving as they all started to stand up.

Every corpse that Biggs had not burned away, and every fallen warlock from Grey’s curse or the battle, was now standing as revenants waiting for their master’s command, including the lich they had previously taken down. Izreea noted that Lin’s body was still smoking on the ground where he had landed.

 

Grey put her head in her hands as she realized they were fighting an endless army.

“I’ll try to distract them while you circle to get Jareth. Then we should run before we all become one of them,” Grey said into her hands.

“We need to fight together this time and either burn them to nothing or cut our way to the lich and end them before they can resurrect each other and the other revenants,” Izreea said firmly, refusing to give up now that she knew what was at stake.

“We need to ru-” Grey started to say before she was cut off.

“There is no point! Don’t you understand? If we don’t get Sparrow back, then life as we know it is over! Humans will be erased as if they never existed, and the Guardians will once again control this planet without knowing their true purpose. They will rule unrighteously, punishing and rewarding at their whim, dividing and pitting us against each other for sport, fighting wars with other guardians without pause for the lives they destroy. I will not give up now!” Izreea declared firmly, holding nothing back.

Grey was staring at Izreea from the ground, her mouth working as she tried to respond without knowing what to say.

“Grey, I know you have had it worse than most … and much of that pain you lay at my feet, but we cannot do this without you. Do it to kill the warlocks for cursing you, or to save humanity, or to save Jareth if for no other reason, but fight with me, please,” Izreea pleaded as she transferred one of her scythes to her other hand and held her empty one out for Grey to take.

Grey looked at the revenants that had started to march towards them and knew that Izreea was telling the truth. There was nowhere she could run to escape this end, and she was so tired of hiding in a hole in the ground. She took Izreea’s hand and stood up, then let go of her hand to grab the two daggers she had put on her belt.

“If we really are saving the world … then if we live through this, I get to kiss Jareth goodbye,” Grey said with absolute sincerity, pointing at Izreea with one of her bloody daggers.

“I don’t think so, but I believe Jonathan is free,” Izreea offered in exchange as she changed her scythes to red and began walking toward the approaching army.

Grey remembered that Jonathan was as handsome as he was insufferable, so she gave a small shrug in assent and followed Izreea into battle. Myrum was on her feet now and had collected her bow and quiver from the ground where they had been thrown. She had no idea how the quiver on her back was completely unharmed from the fireballs that had stuck her.

Colson was walking behind Grey and Izreea and was removing the small vial from his waistline that he had been carrying since they left Izreea’s attic space. He uncorked the vial and poured a shimmering murky-looking liquid into the air, catching it with his unique arcane abilities before it hit the ground. He mixed the liquid with the spinning water around him, sheathed his sword, and began walking with his arms spread wide, spinning the water faster and faster until it sang in the air.

“There is diamond dust in this water, do not come near me under any circumstances,” Colson said to Grey and Izreea just before they reached their first enemies.

Grey did not respond, and Izreea simply waved a single scythe toward him to indicate she had heard the warning.

Colson walked into the approaching army and began disintegrating his enemies. Anywhere the jetting water touched, the flesh was cut like a hot knife through soft butter. The diamond water was his most deadly and expensive weapon, but it had its limits. He could not control the actual diamonds, and with each impact, some of the diamonds fell out of the water stream. Even with an expiration date, he was a formidable opponent.

Grey and Izreea were tag teaming targets, trying to reserve their energy by combining their abilities. Grey would often distract or maim a target, while Izreea used killing blows to dispatch them when they were vulnerable. Izreea’s red scythes burned wherever they touched, searing flesh and catching revenants on fire as they fought. The normal revenants fell easily enough, but the newly raised warlocks were a more advanced version of a revenant, somewhere between a lich and a shambler, and they took much more work to bring down. These targets moved quickly, could jump in the air, and could bend and contort themselves into odd inhuman positions and angles as they fought. 

During these fights, Myrum focused on keeping their flanks and rear clear of other revenants with her arrows so the two could concentrate on their agile enemy. When the target was down, she would resume trying to bring down the lich from afar. The lich, however, had learned from the last time she had taken one of them down, so one of them had a constant barrier up to stop her arrows. The runes on her arrows damaged the barrier, but she would have to keep hitting it for a while before the shield would come down.

After a few minutes, the group had taken down half of the enemy revenants and pressed forward toward the lich. Colson had reached one of the lich easily enough and was taking it apart piece by piece with his diamond-encrusted water, trying to make sure it was in enough pieces to prevent it from being resurrected again. The lich was trying to fall back while throwing fireball after fireball Colson, but his spinning wall of water instantly turned the fireballs into steam.

Colson finished his work on the lich and turned to find another one to take down, but Lon stepped in front of him. Colson shot strands of liquid death at him, but he dodged them by sprinting backward and twisting to the side, all with his impossible, inhuman speed. Even with his enhanced speed, the warlock could barely move faster than the darting streams of deadly water, and begrudging respect seemed to slowly take over his face as he continued to dart backward away from Colson.

Izreea and Grey reached a lich and were in the process of tag-teaming it to the ground. They both knew how deadly such a revenant was without having to communicate with each other about it. Besides their fireballs, they were incredibly intelligent, could create illusions, and were far stronger than humans. Their long-clawed fingers could cut like knives, and their blood was extremely acidic to the touch, so cutting it had to be strategic as well.

The one advantage they had over the lich was Myrum. The creature could not stop making the invisible wall blocking her arrows, limiting what other spells it could use to defend itself. In the end, they had to dodge a fireball or two, but they were able to bring the monster to the ground, where Izreea quickly dispatched it.

Colson had been drawn well away from the battle in his pursuit of Lon and did not realize it until he was alone with Lon on the far side of the meadow. The look of respect on Lon’s face dissolved into mockery as the man dashed around Colson faster than the eye could see and returned to the battle. Colson realized he had been tricked into being led away from his companions and was running back to the battle as fast as his skinny legs could carry him.

Lon rushed up and slammed his fist into Myrum’s face, then did the same to Grey and Izreea, all while running faster than the eye could see. All three of them hit the ground in a heap, dazed and seeing stars from their blows. The revenants quickly closed ranks on Grey and Izreea, but a barrier of magical ice appeared around them on the ground like a massive bowl had been placed on top of them.

As revenants beat on the ice shell above Grey and Izreea, Myrum struggled to regain her footing while feeling light-headed. She eventually made it to her feet and saw that Colson was on his way back to the battle, running faster than she had ever seen him run. He had his sword out now and was adding more and more water to the spinning wall around him as he ran, so much so that she could barely see him through it.

From behind the remaining revenants, a floating figure barreled into their ranks, flinging massive chunks of ice-like boulders which crushed revenants wherever they landed. Jonathan, in Jareth’s body, was floating in the air with a black and dark blue staff in his hands, swinging it like a club. On impact, a massive ice block was thrown into the enemy before it rolled onto the ground, and the target he struck was thrown back as if by an unseen force.

Jonathan made his way through the ranks of enemies to the shield he had created over Grey and Myrum. He flung his in an arc, knocking several revenants away from him, and struck the barrier with the staff. The barrier shattered, and all its pieces shot outward in sharp spikes of ice, slamming into a dozen revenants and pinning them to the ground.

Grey and Izreea had been recovering from their blows while protected and were ready to keep fighting when the barrier was removed. Only a handful of revenants remained by this point, the rest littering the ground all around them, and the group knew they would have to start all over again if they did not reach the lich and stop them from resurrecting the revenants.

              Colson reached the other three, and together they turned and charged towards the closest lich, Myrum bringing down any revenants in their path. Before they could reach the lich, it started wailing into the air as before, buffeting the group with waves of power to keep them at bay while it prepared to raise the revenants that had fallen.

Myrum was sinking arrows into the monster, and although the magical runes caused it injury, the lich ignored the arrows to focus on its spell. Myrum knew it had taken a dozen arrows to bring one lich down, and she did not have time to shoot that many arrows before the spell was over.

Colson rose the massive amount of water he had been collecting as he ran towards the battle into the air above him. He shaped the water into giant spikes pointing downward and raised his arms, holding them there.

“Jonathan!” Colson yelled at the floating man, his voice giving away that Colson was completely out of breath and about to collapse.

The shout was enough to get Jonathan’s attention, and he glanced over his shoulder to look at Colson as he glided towards the lich. What he saw made him smile, and he quickly glided to the side to let Colson go ahead of him. Colson was a few paces from the lich as he brought his arms down as hard as possible. Just before the spikes of water impacted the lich, Jonathan’s staff shot a stream of magical energy, instantly freezing the falling water solid. The wall of spikes crushed the lich into the earth, silencing its spell.

Colson collapsed from exhaustion, panting as he tried in vain to crawl to his feet. Grey and Izreea dropped to their knees beside him, and Jonathan, with his transparent skull, gave them all a hideous grin of triumph. Then, beside them, they heard the sound of steady clapping. The group turned to find Lon standing not ten feet from them with his hands outstretched before him, clapping slowly in mockery of their achievement.

Twenty paces behind him stood the last dozen remaining warlocks, all surrounding the last lich in the form of a protective arch. Lon gave the group of adventurers a single nod with what appeared to be a genuine show of respect and walked away from them with his hands behind his back, bidding farewell to worthy opponents who were about to die.

The lich laughed a cruel laugh that promised death before throwing back its head and screaming.

Myrum tried firing an arrow at the lich, but one of the warlocks launched into the air to place himself in the line of fire. The arrow lodged in his upper shoulder, and he yanked it from his shoulder before he landed on the ground, his eyes searching the sky for another arrow. It dawned on the group that this was why so many warlocks had remained behind from the battle. Their only purpose was to keep at least one lich alive, no matter the cost. Myrum knew that she could never cut down the remaining warlocks and still land a dozen arrows on the lich before the spell was complete. She instead began focusing on her friend’s exit from the battlefield. End of the world or not, continuing to fight at this point was suicide.

The rest of the party on the ground knew they had no chance of stopping the lich from casting its spell, and in a very real sense … they simply gave up. Knowing that they had not only lost the battle but had failed to save the world had created a numbing sensation inside them. They were mesmerized by the lich’s spell, and for the next few moments, the world seemed to move slower for them as they watched.

The lich finished its spell and raised its hands into the air. Immediately the meadow was ablaze with hundreds of foggy lights floating in the air, darting around as if looking for something. The lich slammed his hands down, and all of the specks of light dashed towards corpses all around the meadow, but just before they entered the bodies dotting the ground, they all stopped in the air.

              A look of total confusion appeared on the lich’s face as it thrust its arms down a second time and then a third, trying vainly to command the souls around it to enter the bodies lying on the ground. Its purple eyes flamed into the air as it seethed in frustration and slammed its hands down one last time before understanding finally dawned.

Lon had still been walking away from them when he sensed something was wrong with the lich. With his arms held behind his back, he turned to gaze across the meadow at the frozen souls in the air. It was hard to tell, but Grey thought she saw a smile spread across his painted face.

All at once the souls began to circle together in the center of the meadow as if they were forming a tornado. Then this tornado lifted off the ground and twisted itself until it represented a flowing stream of swirling, twisting souls, all funneling over the crater’s edge. There was total silence over the crater, which lasted several seconds as both sides contemplated what had just happened. Then a figure appeared on the ridge.

Jaya stepped over the crater’s edge with her staff in her right hand, a leashed lich connected to a rope on her left wrist floating beside her, and a large hawk on her shoulder.

Jaya gave Myrum a warm smile and waved her hand slightly at her to indicate that they would talk later. Then Jaya commanded the lich to attack and broke the chain on her wrist. Everyone in the party was surprised the lich still obeyed Jaya’s command with the broken chain, but the lich seemed consumed with killing as many warlocks as possible. The hawk was given a single command from Jaya before it lifted into the air to obey. Jaya slammed the end of her staff into the ground to keep it there, then dropped to all fours and began running towards the remaining group of enemies.

Jaya’s thoughts entered the minds of the entire party.

“Rest, my friends. You have done enough. We will deal with the dragon and his pets.”

Jaya jumped into the air with her enhanced kanidian strength, slamming into the closet warlock guarding the lich, her jaws ending the warlock’s life. She rolled to her feet with a flaming sword in each hand and worked death among the remaining warlocks.

With a reluctant sigh, Jonathan transformed into Jareth again, who sunk to the ground, moaning and holding his head as he watched the battle unfold. Izreea sat beside her husband and put her arm around him, watching the battle as well. Grey had her eyes locked on Lon, who was standing not ten paces from them, but he appeared to be simply watching the battle with his arms folded across his chest. He made no move to assist his fellow warlocks or his last lich as Jaya expertly cut them all down without transforming into either of her powerful revenant forms.

Jaya’s lich had fallen in battle with the warlocks, but in the end, Jaya stood as the victor, blood dripping from her mouth, which she spat on the ground. Lon was walking towards Jaya now, with a confident, unconcerned look as he approached the seeker. He reached her and bowed low to the kanidian.

“Muddrea Seeches, I am honored that one such as you would come to satisfy justice upon one such as I. That is accurate, Mother, is it not? You plan on dealing with the dragon alone?” he asked with perfect sincerity, letting her know he had heard her message clearly.

“I said ‘we,’ did I not?” Jaya asked calmly.

“Yes, but not them ‘we,’” he said while gesturing to the exhausted adventurers on the ground. “Surely not that simpleton of a druid you so carelessly sent to find the sacrifice?” Lon asked calmly

“Your womb sister underestimated him as well,” Jaya said reproachfully.

“Womb-sister … that’s one way to put it. Well, she was only human after all, and an annoyance since she was old enough to breathe,” Lon said.

“She knew how to follow orders, at least,” Lin said, appearing out of thin air beside his brother. One of his eyes was blood red, where the lightning had caused the vessel to burst, and charred makeup covered his face and torso. He had a hand on his side as if he had an internal injury he was dealing with, but his face gave no sign that he was in pain.

On seeing Lin join his brother, Jaya’s face grew uncertain for the first time since she had arrived. Her body floated into the air, and she transformed into one of her true forms as the revenant of life, a flaming sword erupting in her left hand. She held her right hand out, and her staff shot from the crater’s edge where she had left it and landed in her outstretched hand.

“Very well, Muddrea Seeches,” Lon said with a respectful bow.

“We need a new lich to raise our army, anyway,” Lin said without the respect his brother had shown.

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