The Forsaken Hero

Shrieks rose from beneath us, and small, darting shapes rose from a series of strange squat towers. They spread feathered wings with twenty-foot wingspans, the head of a bird with a fierce, curved beak, and four-legged bodies like giant felines. Armored knights rode on their backs, wielding lances twice the length of ground-based cavalry.

”Griffons,” Fyren said, his eyes narrowing.

But despite their ferocious appearance, they quickly fell behind, unable to catch the speeding fate demon. I let out a small breath of relief, easing against Fyren’s chest. Radia hadn’t had aerial troops, as far as I remembered. When had the church managed to acquire them? What kingdom had surrendered such power?

With one last burst of speed, Borealis reached the Radian castle. It was massive, with curtain-like walls a hundred feet tall and half as thick, with heavy portcullises resting over steel-bound gates of enchanted wood. A nearby river, running down from the mountains and through the city, cut a channel on either side of the edifice, forming a natural, swift-flowing moat. The structures surrounding it, including what had once been a noble’s manor, had been demolished and cleared away, forming a flat, open plain several hundred feet from the river. Hundreds of soldiers stood guard, with a few supply tents set up between the surviving, but clearly abandoned, buildings on the fringe.

Our target was the cathedral hidden in the central tower’s shadow, given its own walled gardens within the outer courtyard. Borealis came down hard, sheathed in golden mana. His talons smashed through the courtyard walls, obliterating a small tower. His wing clipped through one of the cathedral walls, sending a cascade of worked stone and shattered stained glass across the open yard.

Shouts and screams broke out as Fyren lifted me from his back, dropping the thirty or so feet to the ground. He grunted as we landed, absorbing the impact with his body and setting me lightly on my feet. The Star guard and Fable alighted beside us. The wolf’s hackles rose, and he growled as the gates opened and soldiers in white tabards and enchanted weapons poured out.

”What are your orders?” Luxxa asked, tensing with the others.

”Hold them here,” Fyren said, drawing his sword. ”I’ll escort her inside.”

Fable’s growl lowered, and Borealis shrieked in acknowledgment of the fire demon’s orders. A flash lit up the darkness of the castle walls looming above, and a lance of light streaked at us. One of Borealis’s wings shot out, catching it on his crystalline feathers. Instead of exploding, it refracted off and struck the wall of a treasury.

The subsequent explosion rocked the castle, shaking the ground. Fyren grabbed my hand and dragged me after him, running toward the gates. Fable pounced over our heads, swelling in size. With a single bat of a titanic paw, he cleared the entrance, sending a dozen soldiers spinning across the gardens. Gith’s arrow caught a mage in his throat as he aimed a spell at us, and Jenna’s lightning formed a wall of arcing electricity across the entrance, blocking out reinforcements for a few precious seconds.

”Go!” Luxxa cried, ”Do what you must!” She turned to Kahlen. ”Silence those cannons!”

Fyren released me as we made it to the gate, slashing his sword in an arc. A wave of pure, concentrated mana erupted from the tip, slamming into the portcullis and gate. It exploded in a shower of twisted metal and wood fragments, pinging my wards with shrapnel. The art was so powerful it bit into the warded stone walls on either side, scoring deep.

”Elemental Spirit: Earth!”

With a wave of my staff, the sixth-circle spell resolved. Stone and steel rubble gathered together, forming a hulking humanoid elemental some thirty feet tall. It let out a silent roar and attacked the soldiers as they rallied from within the cathedral, lashing out with fists bristling with jagged portcullis bars and sharp glass.

Fyren ran between its legs, cutting a fifth-level soldier down with a casual slice of his sword. I chased after him, commanding the elemental to hold the gate and prevent anyone from chasing after us.

The cathedral was elegant, with soaring, vaulted ceilings and murals gilded with gold and glowing crystal. The main hallway choked with guards and priests, many half-dressed or still donning their armor in confusion. Fyren cleared our path with his aura, forcing the weak-willed to their knees. His blade flitted out from time to time, leaving those who had been strong enough to stand disintegrating in our wake.

In seconds, we had reached the inner set of double doors. The stained-glass panels cracked as his aura swept over them, letting silver light seep from within. I stumbled to a stop as it fell over me, a burning itch sweeping over my tail and horns.

Whatever it was was growing stronger, more intense. I triggered every instinct I had, urging me to flee. It clutched at my heart with a clawed hand, penetrating my soul with an ice-cold blade. As awful to my soul as Sunpurge was to my flesh.

”W-Wait!” I cried, clutching at his sleeve. ”Don’t!”

Fyren came to a halt, taking his sword in both hands. ”The shard is through those doors. We’re almost there.”

”Can’t you feel it?” I cried, shivering as I retreated a step, my tail curling limply.

He glanced at me in confusion, taking in the way my hands trembled around my staff. His expression grew grim.

”No. I can’t.”

”It’s–”

Before I could attempt to explain the terror coursing through me, the connection to my elemental was severed. Chills raced down my back as a powerful aura swept down the hall, hitting us with a stiff wind. Fable and Borealis still fought, alive and well. How had someone so powerful managed to slip by them?

This time, Fyren couldn’t miss it. He grabbed my arm, roughly jerking me behind him. Just in time, because at that instant, several lines of searing light lanced through the darkness. I cried out in fear, covering my head as they struck around us, detonating with the fury of an eighth-circle spell. Adaptive Resistance warmed, devouring the fire as it billowed around us, saturating it in an instant. Carpets burned to ash, and the stone was glowing dully. I was left trembling. Just how strong were those beams if their explosions alone could push it that far?

Silhouettes appeared in the billowing clouds of smoke and fire. Another beam of blinding light cut through, but Fyren raised his sword, deflecting it with an off-handed swing. It struck the wall, melting a hole through the mural. Molten stone ran down the surviving groove, revealing a small chapel on the other side. Fires ignited across the pews as the heat wave followed, scorching everything black.

”Impressive,” a smooth, masculine voice said.

Another wave of aura blasted the smoke apart, revealing a group of six. Five of them were inquisitors, their souls seventh level, save for one, who had an eighth. The sixth was a tall, willowy man who looked close to Luke’s age. He was clad in red leather armor, had a thin sword at his side, and wore a sweeping crimson cloak trimmed with gold. His eyes, I recognized. They were drawn and narrowed, set with a permanent scowl, and glowing with malice. His lips twisted in a conceited sneer.

”It’s been some time, filthblood. I’d say you’d grown, but you’re just as weak as you were before,” Vorinth said, spitting. I flinched as his spittle struck the ground, hissing as it boiled on the red-hot stone.

”Weak of mind, and frail of flesh, perhaps, but do not underestimate her,” one of the inquisitors said. There was something about his voice that tickled my memory, but it didn’t come. One lost in the hazy aftermath of Port Vesna.

The inquisitor was clad in white robes without armor, his arms folded confidently. A silver ring a foot across floated just over his shoulder, glowing brightly. The mana flowing through it matched the signature of the devastating beams that had assailed us.

The other inquisitors were more ordinary, though no less intimidating. They wielded swords and shields, their white cloaks flaring in their auras.

”Fyren...” My hand curled into his sleeve. He didn’t look at me.

”You must be the new king,” the demon said, eyeing Vorinth. ”From the reaction of the Oracle, I see you’re acquainted.”

”Acquainted?” Vorinth let out a hollow laugh. ”As if I would associate with a common whore like this. She was but an insect in our world. One who proved rather pesky. It’s a pity she escaped Lord Byron. Never have I met someone more fitting for his love.”

”That’s enough, King Vorinth,” the eighth-level inquisitor said, taking a step forward. ”Our mission is to slay her and retrieve the divinity. Nothing else matters.”

He raised his hand, and his ring lit up. I braced myself, only to stumble as my support vanished. Fyren materialized in a flurry of ash, his sword cutting toward the inquisitor.

The man threw himself out of the way, the light leaving his ring. Fyren followed up with a horizontal slash, but the other inquisitors finally reacted. They charged the demon, intercepting him before he could strike the off-balance mage.

”Careful, there’s something off about this one,” the inquisitor said, regaining his footing.

”Is that right, Lord Lydan?” Vorinth asked, raising his eyebrow. ”I wasn’t aware High Inquisitors felt fear.”