The Forsaken Hero

Luke raised his hand and touched his cheek. His fingertips came away red, and though the wound was already knitting shut, his lips drew into a tight line. His eyes narrowed, his tail swishing as he raised his sword, pointing it at the inquisitor.

”You’re still planning to fight? You’re good enough you should have been able to see the difference between us from that exchange.” The inquisitor’s lip quirked in a taunting smile. ”Perhaps I misjudged your skill.”

I balled my hands into fists, clenching my skirt. But Luke didn’t rise to the bait. His eyes remained focused on the inquisitor as they slowly circled each other, neither making the first move.

Fable growled deep in his throat, gathering on his haunches, but I rested my hand on his shoulder. ”Quiet,” I whispered. ”Save your strength. We’ll need it for what comes ahead.”

His growl faded, and his ears slicked back, leaving only his swishing tail to show his agitation.

A sharp clang made me flinch, the two crossing swords again. It was short and violent, both warriors burning an incredible amount of mana. Their techniques were incredibly inefficient, but enough to cast several eighth-circle spells. As they broke away, the inquisitor’s gaze flicked to me, eying me hungrily. I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and retreated a step.

More terrifying than their power was their speed. I’d been left behind the moment my battles had escalated beyond the sixth level, unable to see attacks or maneuvers until after they’d already been executed. I’d always kept my distance from these kinds of fights, watching from a vantage as far away as possible. But in these close quarters, the two could circle the room a dozen times before I reacted. If Luke gave the inquisitor half a chance, there would be nothing between us but Fable. My wolf was strong and fast, but his kind of speed was different from that of the swordsmen. He needed room to maneuver, space to accelerate. And his claws were just too large and cumbersome to guard against an agile longsword properly.

A burst of purple mana drew my attention, and Luke’s curse surged across the floor, black veins stretching toward the inquisitor. He sidestepped, but there were too many, too fast, and he didn’t dare get caught up in them. He darted backward, and Luke lunged, pressing his advantage. But the inquisitor parried, and his blade glowed, burning the air as it sliced downward. Luke’s tail whipped out of the way, and he twisted, barely avoiding the blade as it whistled past his face.

Before the inquisitor could withdraw his blade, Luke’s foot lashed out, catching the side of his knee. He stumbled, and Luke followed, his sword sweeping for the inquisitor’s neck. But even as the inquisitor staggered, he raised his arm, catching the edge of the blade with his bracer. The enchantments woven into the armor flared as the blade ground against them, until the inquisitor tilted his arm, deflecting it to the side.

My heart leaped as Luke stumbled a step forward, thrown off-balance, and the inquisitor’s blade darted forward. But, suddenly, Luke was on his feet, the blade whistling a hairsbreadth from his ribs. He punched forward, catching the inquisitor on the chest. There was an explosion, and the inquisitor flew backward, slamming into the wall. He spat a stream of blood as he landed hard, dropping to one knee.

”You’re fast,” the inquisitor muttered, standing. He felt at his chest, wincing at finding his armor was slightly crumpled. As he lowered his arm, the light caught on a thin line across his bracer where Luke’s sword had left a mark.

My tail still mid-twitch as the two engaged again, my lips parting silently. Luke was the fast one? Had I somehow underestimated the apostle? Or was I just terrified of the inquisitor?

”Fable!” Luke cried, narrowly deflecting a stab at his throat. ”Now!”

Jaws closed around my arm, gentle but firm. With a snap of his head, Fable lunged toward the battle, dragging me after him at speeds my body wasn’t meant to go. I screamed as my shoulder wrenched, my legs flying behind me.

The inquisitor let out a shout, gathering mana on his blade, but Luke was faster. He swung his sword, releasing a seventh-level art that caught the inquisitor off balance, swirling around his limbs like thick tentacles. He jerked free, snapping the curses as they tried to sap his strength, but that brief moment was all Luke needed to stab his sword into the ground with a heavy thunk. I caught a flash of dark oak as his sword shredded the carpet, before his mana detonated, obliterating what could only be the trap door he mentioned before. Fable dove toward the now-gaping hole where the carpet had been, and the steep stairwell below.

”No!” the inquisitor shouted, kicking off the floor, appearing in front of us with his sword raised over me.

Luke’s blade materialized between us, catching the blow even as I started to scream. He parried it cleanly, forcing the inquisitor back with another curse, giving Fable room to slip past.

”Go! I’ll catch up!” he cried, brandishing his sword.

As we plunged into the earth, Fable slowed just long enough to toss me onto his back. I screamed as I scrabbled for a hold, clutching his fur with white knuckles. The tunnel was rough and crude, and so steep that every bound left me rising from Fable’s back in freefall before he touched down again, jolting me against his shoulders. There were no light crystals to show the way, and we moved too quickly for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I hadn’t realized just how much Luke’s presence had calmed me, but now that we were alone, the weight of the mountain seemed to press from all sides. The passage was too narrow, and only seemed to grow tighter as we descended, making my heart flutter anxiously.

The darkness parted suddenly as we reached a long landing, bursting into a bubble of flickering light. The way before was closed by a set of iron bars thicker than my legs, with an entire squad of sixth-level soldiers in heavy plate armor and white tabards. They glowed with enchantments and spells already cast, as if they were waiting for us. Their weapons were oversized, two-handed hammers and long-handled axes with cruel spikes mounted as counterweights.

The moment we appeared, one raised a horn to his lips, and a haunting, chilling note rang out. The sound grew in intensity, echoing against the stone walls, and every hair on my body stood on end. Others began to cast spells, dozens of magic circles forming in midair, while the front line stepped into a defensive formation, bracing themselves with the full strength of their souls.

Paladins, elite church warriors skilled in both martial combat and magic. A natural counter for mages. Most mages.

Fable didn’t slow, barreling straight toward the veritable wall of armor and magic. The moment before he struck, his mana surged, and he opened his jaws wide, unleashing a deafening roar. His form blurred beneath me, dividing into several Illusory golden wolves, like half-sized versions of Fable. They lunged ahead of us, crashing into the paladins.

The paladins cried out in shock, but there was no time to react. The wolves quickly proved more than their ghostly image suggested, tearing through steel and magic alike, ripping through armor and flesh with strength equal to Fable’s own. The inquisitors weren’t helpless, however, and quickly rallied, bringing their massive weapons crashing down. The wolves howled as they crashed through their bodies, disrupting them like a gust of wind through a fog bank. Several paladins fell, pierced by ethereal claws, but many more managed to regroup, falling back behind a wall of magic circles.

Mana flared, and the corridor was filled with radiance. I whimpered, hunching low over Fable’s shoulder, as javelins of pure sunlight lanced through the air. They obliterated the remaining wolves, exploding them into golden motes, before streaking toward us. Fable charged into them. The Mirror Sphere flared, refracting blinding rays of sunlight in all directions. Paladins cried out as the spells pierced their wards, scorching lines across their armor and exposed flesh.

And then we were on top of them, hitting hard amidst their disarray. Fable’s paws lashed out, knocking them aside like ragdolls, their armor crushed by the sheer force. I flinched from the gore and screams, hiding my face as he slaughtered his way through their ranks. And there was no other way to describe it but a slaughter. No amount of defense could stand against the raw power of an eighth-level beast like Fable. Not without an eighth-level mage or warrior to lead them. It was probably harder for me to cling to him than it was for him to break their defenses.

The portcullis proved a different matter, reinforced with eighth-level enchantments powered from the same conduits that fed the wards throughout the rest of the keep. Fable’s claws collided with the centermost bar in a shower of sparks, leaving only faint white marks behind. Given enough time, he would certainly break through, but already, the surviving paladins were shifting and groaning, helping each other to their feet and healing their wounds. A few had found their weapons and were gathering their mana, preparing to attack. We didn’t have time for this.

Gritting my teeth, I summoned my staff and pointed it at the portcullis. ”Orendaclysm!”