The Forsaken Hero

Fyren knelt at my side, picking me off the ground and setting me gently on my feet. Even on one knee, he was tall enough to look me in the eye. I tottered a step and fell into him, hugging his arm for support.

”What happened?” I asked breathlessly.

He shook his head. ”That’s my question. What took you so long to come out?”

I bit my lip. ”I’m sorry. There was a dragon.”

He took a long breath, and his voice softened. ”I’m aware. We killed the other one, if you’ll recall.”

I flinched, feeling somewhat chastened. His voice softened.

”I’m asking why it took you five whole minutes to take care of it. I’ve been looking everywhere, thinking you might have popped out and gotten lost. The city has changed a bit.”

”Five minutes?”

Had it really been so long? I’d lost track of time watching the remnants fight, but it felt like the battle had taken just seconds.

”I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, staring at my feet. The ground glowed a soft orange, hissing beneath my enchanted boots. They just killed it as fast as they could.

”Is that right?” he murmured, an amused glint in his eye. ”Somehow, I doubt that. The old bastard didn’t fight, did he?”

”Arantius? No, I didn’t even see him or Fate.”

”I see. We managed to take care of the other one.”

”How did you beat it? Didn’t it go berserk?”

”I’m not entirely sure what you mean. The swordswoman crippled it after you intercepted the other. The mage had a few powerful magic items that held it down long enough for her to recover and finish it off.”

”That doesn’t make any sense.” I closed my eyes and leaned my head against his bicep. ”Why didn’t it go incorporeal?”

He hesitated, rubbing his chin. ”After you disappeared into the gate, I felt a strange aura. It could have been an echo or residue of the battle, but it felt... dark, like curse magic, but more sinister. I have half a mind to call it death magic, but I’ve spent many years fighting aside death demons. Perhaps undead? The undeath demons are a strange, xenophobic bunch, and I’ve little association with them over the centuries.”

”Connor,” I said. ”He’s in the lower city, fighting R’lissea. I think.”

”Didn’t you see it in one of your visions? You certainly seemed to have everything else down.”

I shook my head. ”I didn’t. It was...chaotic, and the only time the dragons broke through was after we fell, so it wasn’t relevant. It was hard enough to focus without adding in the extra distractions.”

He was silent for a moment, idly patting my head. Finally, he sighed.

”If you’re here and you already knew the dragon was dead, you must want to go help her.”

”Can’t we?” I asked, gripping his sleeve.

”It’s not wise, but I’ll lead where you follow. Where did that wolf get off to, anyway?”

”He was hurt. One of the remnants is looking after him.”

”Then I’ll take you to the swordswoman. She chased the dragon’s corpse when it fell into the city.”

I nodded, and Fyren lifted me from the ground, holding me protectively in his arms. The next moment, we were soaring through the air. I squeezed my eyes shut as we dropped over the rim of the ravaged spire, plummeting past layers of burned and destroyed city. I felt the change in the air as we passed beyond the airspace once protected by Avant’s barrier. The air cooled, clearing of smoke and ash. Much of the dragons’ mana had been contained by the barrier and hadn’t spread far once it fell.

I risked a peek and gasped, taking in the sprawling cityscape below. For the first time in what felt like hours, the air was relatively clean, devoid of choking smoke and cinders. Panicked shouts wafted through the air roaring in my ears. Tiny, insect-sized people fled down the crowded streets. A strange, black mist smothered the lower levels of the spire, thick with a familiar aura. Countless souls ran into the darkness and vanished from my eyes. Whether they were dead or the mist hid them, it was impossible to know.

”Over there,” I said, pointing to a market square on the edge of the black mist.

Fyren nodded and released a burst of energy, directing our fall. The entire sector of the city was choked in overgrown vines and trees. The air brimmed with life mana, single-handedly holding back the tide of undeath. Dark silhouettes staggered out of the mists but were lost in the trees, bound by vines and crushed into the ground.

I braced myself as Fyren landed in a small forest glade. Grass clutched at his ankles, branches grabbed at his arms, and a few vines as thick as my wrist snaked across the ground toward us.

Fyren snorted and unleashed a wave of fire, incinerating everything within twenty feet of us into fine white ash. He shifted me so he was holding me with one arm, letting me sit on his forearm with my back against his chest and biceps, freeing his hand to hold his sword. One of the nearby trees lurched, tearing free of the ground and lumbering toward us on its roots. He casually slashed at it, leaving a deep scar across the trunk. Fires licked up the bark, gradually consuming the entire tree. It collapsed with a heavy thud, disintegrating into dust beneath his boots.

”The Life Hero has been busy,” Fyren muttered, cutting down another tree as it charged toward us.

”I didn’t know she could do this,” I murmured, gazing around in awe. An entire city block transformed into a forest. A very hostile forest.

”It’s not a spell,” Fyren said. ”I’ve seen some that do this, but they’re all eighth level.”

”It must be one of her abilities. She’s never really shared them with me, but I always assumed they were for healing,” I said.

We headed into the deepest part of the forest, where the Life mana was densest. A tightly woven copse of trees formed a natural dome around the center of the market square. Several trees shaped like crudely formed dolls stalked the woods, turning to face us as we approached.

As one took a step toward us, the trees on the other side of the square parted. Several humans staggered between the branches, wreathed in black mist. They wore torn, bloody clothes in the style of Blacksand but moved with an unsettling, jerky gait. Their skin was ashen gray and bloodless, and their eyes were so black they seemed to suck the light in. Gashes and cuts split their bodies apart. Some were missing limbs, others pierced by arrows or hindered by thorny vines.

”Undead?” I gasped.

The life elementals forgot us entirely, lumbering toward the monsters. The undead threw themselves forward with reckless abandon, attacking with their teeth, nails, or beating their fists against the trunks of the trees. An elemental stomped on a young woman, crushing her half. The legs kicked a few times before going still, while the upper torso crawled with its one remaining arm, scratching the leg.

Fyren frowned. ”I’ve always found using corpses...distasteful.”

I shuddered, swallowing bile. ”It’s...wrong.”

Fyren moved across the clear, slashing through the dome. At the first touch of fire, the barrier trees recoiled, allowing us through.

”Xiviyah?”

R’lissea sat cross-legged in the center of the dome. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she was panting lightly. Her dress was torn in many places, but the skin showing through the rips was pale and unblemished. She held her staff across her lap, gripping it tightly with both hands. Mana flowed from her soul into the ground, radiating out into every tree, bush, and blade of grass.

”Are the dragons gone?” she asked.

I nodded, patting Fyren’s arm. He gently lowered me, keeping a hand on my shoulder until I steadied.

”Barely. Where’s Connor?”

She shook her head. When I arrived, he was gone. It seemed that every graveyard in the city was opened. I’ve killed thousands of zombies so far, but there doesn’t seem to be an end to them. I had a few other groves around the city, but most of them have been torn down.”

”You have more places like this?” I asked, glancing around at the forest.”

She nodded, releasing her death grip on her staff to wipe her forehead. ”Only three, right now. I’m not very good at it. I wanted to create safe zones for the city to coordinate its defenses, but I can’t get the trees to stop attacking the living.”

”Are there many soldiers left?”

She nodded. ”To be honest, not many have died. They’re just disorganized and confused. When the dragons appeared, they all started moving up the spire but were forced to retreat by the fires. The undead came from behind, so they’ve had to force their way through to help. Every minute, more arrive from both the spire and the city outside, but it has been a long and arduous fight.”

”You’re doing great,” I said, covering her hand with mine.

She smiled and turned her palm up, squeezing me gently. ”You look exhausted.”

”Like you’re any better. What now?”

”I felt Elaine and Avant arrive a few minutes ago. There were a few eighth-level mages inside the city at the time as well, so I think we can leave the undead up to them. I was just trying to hold on, but if you’re here, maybe we can go out and find Connor. I’m worried about what he wants.”

She started pulling on my hand, trying to stand, but I couldn’t support her weight and toppled over. Fyren caught me with a sigh and helped R’lissea to her feet.

”I’m not sure confronting a hero is the best idea right now,” he said. ”Neither of you is in good shape.”

”You could fight him,” I said.

He shook his head. ”You’re the only one in the Divine or Infernal realms to ask an eighth-level demon to fight a hero after killing a ninth-level dragon.”

I ducked my head, flushing slightly. ”That’s an oddly specific scenario. It can’t have happened too many times, right? You still have lots of mana left, anyway.”

”Is that right?” He chuckled, patting my head fondly. ”In that case, lead the way. Perhaps the three of us together will be enough.”