Post by Raferties on Aug 21, 2019 8:45:11 GMT
Chapter Fifteen
Ander had never known before what it felt like to be a soldier. Knowing that in the next few minutes your life could come to an end. But that’s exactly how he felt crouched on the stairs leading up to the final door with Bren and Tiphaine, Sir Ryalos higher and listening at a hole designed for just that purpose. Separated from them by a scant foot of stone was the interior of the royal palace of Esha A’sari, and likely a hundred fiends or more that roamed its halls claiming it as their own. Sir Ryalos vowed that he knew the quickest route to the throne room where the Amulet was to be used, given that he’d served in the palace every day for nearly a century, but cautioned that the closer they got, the more dangerous it would be and the stronger protected the throne room doors.
“If there was only a way to get into the royal escape passage you mentioned, Sir Ryalos,” Tiphaine quietly lamented. “That’s in the throne room itself!”
“Only one of royal blood can open that path,” the knight countered. “We will have to prevail with the situation at hand.” He nodded. “The way is clear. Are we ready?” They nodded, then he fixed Ander with a focused gaze. “Above all else, Ander, even if we come under attack, you are to get to the throne room! And the rest of us are to protect you with everything we can.”
“And if I fall dying,” Ander finished, his voice surprisingly steady despite his shaking hands, “then someone slay me, and take the amulet. No matter what do not let one of those fiends end me!” The knight nodded, his expression somber. Bren took Ander’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze, and impulsively the apprentice gently pulled her to him and kissed her briefly on the lips. Despite the circumstances, the youth managed to find a smile for her surprise. “I wanted to know that if I don’t make it, I’d die having kissed my love at least once.”
“And when we get out of this,” encouraged Tiphaine, “you can try for a proper kiss! I could even demonstrate, if the lovely Bren will permit.”
“Try it, Tiphaine, and you will find yourself discovering the famed wrath of nature. And it’s Brennevara.” None of them doubted what this sudden banter was, just nerves before the battle. When they signaled they were ready, the knight gently pushed the door open, and they slid out.
Ander had tried many times since finding out about the Amulet to imagine what the inside of the palace would look like, since it had never been described and he hadn’t been able to see it past the enshrouding clouds. He only had human castles to reference, so he envisioned thick walls of stone, paintings and vases on pedestals, and more rooms that he would know what to do with. Thus it was when he stepped out that he found himself standing on what he at first thought was a shimmering rainbow. Then he blinked, and he realized that he was standing on a prismatic crystal that constructed the floor, walls, and ceiling around him which someone refracted the light entering it to render it opaque enough to prevent seeing through it to other rooms, yet still have the clarity of a proper prism. The walls were carved to resemble trees, and though the walls were in their original state exquisite décor trapped in white crystal enhanced the palace’s splendor. The beams that spanned the ceiling were carved as well, like branches and leaves, so that it felt as if he stood in some fae fantasy realm of pure light. Words escaped his mind for the beauty that he saw all around him.
“By flame and blood!” Tiphaine gasped, looking out a window. Ander’s gaze followed, and his mouth fell open. There, floating in mid-air, was a five or six level tower of the same prism material, connected to the main structure by a walkway of translucent rainbow light. Another such tower was just in view on a lower level. By his best guess, they were about four stories up.
“Hurry!” Sir Ryalos tugged on Ander’s clothes and brought his mind back to the present, and they quickly followed him. “Remember, we cannot afford a drawn-out battle. We must reach the throne room!”
He led them as quickly and quietly as possible down two halls before they heard or saw any sign of a fiend, when three, perhaps hearing the noise of the companions in the halls, stepped out of a room. Sir Ryalos rushed at this, his blade taking one’s leg and sending it to the ground with a howl of pain, Tiphaine’s rapier plunged into another’s throat leaving it gasping for air, and Ander called up his magic to make the third jerk back, then begin struggling against an opponent that was present only in its mind. He was focused enough to take a swipe at them as they passed, nicking Tiphaine in the shoulder with its claws, but was otherwise too occupied to threaten them.
Down a flight of stairs they now full-out ran, knowing that the shouts from the ones above wouldn’t permit their approach to remain secret for long. When they heard noises up ahead and caught a reflection in the crystalline walls of five fiends approaching, ready for battle it seemed that avoiding the conflict would be impossible until Tiphaine suddenly snapped his head towards one wall, rapidly felt along it, and discovered a secret passage hidden within. They slipped inside and watched unseen through the crystalline walls as their enemies passed by, taking a moment to catch their breath.
“Heh,” the fiend-blood chuckled softly, “Lithital always said I had an eye for the hidden.”
“There’s a hall connected to this,” Bren pointed out.
“Secret passages run throughout the palace, though I don’t know all of them,” Sir Ryalos murmured. Ander started down the hall in the same direction they had been going.
“Well lets use them as much as we can!”
The halls let them dodge two more fiend patrols, before they had to step out into a library on the second floor. Ander stared about him in amazement at the shelves and hundreds upon hundreds of books that lined them, feeling his fingers itch to pick up even just one and crack open its cover.
“How many of the Lost Magics are detailed right here!” he whispered to himself in awe.
“When this is through,” promised the knight, “I’ll see to it that you may spend as much time here as you like, Ander. But not now.” Reluctantly, Ander nodded, and they slipped out into the hall. “Down this hall,” he instructed as they ran, “down a flight of stairs, then one final hall to the throne room doors. We’re almost there!” They rounded the end of the hall, and saw the stairs ahead… as well as seven huge fiends that were apparently guarding it. Seeing the four skidding to a stop, the bestial denizens of hell howled battlecries and drew weapons, preparing to charge. Grimly Sir Ryalos drew his sword, as did Tiphaine. Bren and Ander fell back to be behind the warriors. There was no avoiding this fight.
As the seven rushed them, and knight and scoundrel moved to meet them, Ander struck the first blow by capturing some of the rainbow lights bouncing around in the walls and refracting it into the enemies’ eyes, making three of them howl in pain and stagger, blinded, to a stop. Tiphaine jumped over the downward slice of the one that approached him, actually landing on the creature’s arm and leaping up onto its massive shoulder where he stabbed downwards into the side of its neck. It bellowed, bleeding badly but not defeated yet, and nearly caught hold of the man’s leg as he jumped off. Sir Ryalos’ blade deflected the strikes coming at him from all sides from the other three before he got in an attack of his own, sword cutting low across one’s thigh, then plunging deep into one’s belly. Like Tiphaine’s foe, it was a terrible wound but not as mortal as they could have wished and the fiend fought on. Finally able to face down some of the creatures that had wrecked such havoc with the land Bren straightened and her countenance took on something of the aspect she’d had when she and Ander had first met, like an all-powerful queen. No, Ander corrected himself, it was more the other way around. That time had been a mirror of her posture and stature now, as she seemed to grow slightly and all the wrath of nature cracked like lightning in her eyes. She held up a hand, and a powerful whirl of air burst from her palm like a cyclone, throwing fiends in all direction and tearing at the companions’ clothing and hair as well, even though they were not in its direct path. The one that Sir Ryalos had struck collided with a wall and vanished, banished in death back to the hells, and many others were dazed.
“The stairs are clear!” Tiphaine shouted, and they rushed forward though Ander had to pull Bren to follow as it seemed she wanted to remain and finish the fiends off. From the top of the stairs they looked down, with Sir Ryalos saying that just around the corner was the throne room, to see another ten fiends below. Without hesitation, the fiend-blood jumped, landing half-way down the banister and leaping again from there to land upon one of the giant creature’s shoulders. While that one jerked in surprise Tiphaine stabbed into its shoulder, then jumped onto another’s shoulder. The first rounded on him swung his claws, and Tiphaine dodged, causing that one to strike his fellow. “Go!” he shouted, “I’ll deal with them and catch up!” Bren hurled a lightning bolt as they passed, and the three began rushing down the long hall towards a pair of high double doors of darkly-stained wood. About a third of the way there, there was a loud shout behind them and Tiphaine came tumbling through the air as if hurled, rolling across the ground. They others were quick to his side to pull him up, though they saw that he wasn’t badly hurt and rushed on while hearing more furious fiends gathering at their backs. It was when they got close enough to the throne room doors that Ander caught sight of a problem.
“There’s a bar!” Indeed, spanning both of the doors was a thick iron bar at least as wide as Ander himself was tall, set about ten feet up. There was no possible way they could reach it, let alone move it! The apprentice felt Tiphaine take hold on his sleeve, and saw him grab Sir Ryalos’ bracer.
“Bren, grab hold of me and no one let go!” he ordered, and when she’d obeyed he pulled them into a rush directly at the doors. “Brace yourselves!” None of the other three could hold back cries of surprise as he didn’t slow down, and they ran right through the wood like a ghost into the chamber beyond!
“What was that?!” Sir Ryalos gasped, eyes wide. Tiphaine just grinned, though he was shaking all over and pale, seeming drained.
“Just a spell that I picked up.” There was a banging on the doors behind them, then a loud crash that had a metallic ring – so much for the iron bar. “Now hurry!” Even as knight and wizard turned towards the thrones made of pure white wood set atop a small dias the doors flung open. Bren spun around and held up her hands, and the doors flanking the entering fiends cracked ominously, making them hesitate. As they stared seeming in shock, the doors broke themselves free of their hinges and twisted, timber warping and fibers snapping until they had formed into two giant wooden sentinels that began swinging fists as hard as the thickest tree trunks, hurling fiends back into the hall and out of the room. With determined strides, these constructs turned to block the way, and Bren followed, remaining about ten feet back from them with her arms up to direct their blows. Although his magic was clearly quickly becoming exhausted, Tiphaine hurried to her side, conjuring up a dome of energy to protect the both of them against any ranged projectiles that the enemy decided to send their way. And just in time as a black bolt of magic struck it, crackling over the surface but doing no harm. Their allies thus protected, Sir Ryalos and Ander ran on.
“We’re almost there!” the elf encouraged, a broad smile coming to his face as he glanced Ander’s way. “Soon my homeland will be fr-“ He cut himself off with a gasp as he fully faced the thrones and realized what his eyes saw for the first time. “What -!”
“What’s wrong?”
“The thrones – they’re empty! Where is the Queen and King!” Ander looked ahead and saw that the thrones were indeed empty. “The enchantment can only be broken in their presence. What did we do wrong!?” His question was almost a wail of despair.
“Maybe there’s a clue,” the youth encouraged, not willing to surrender yet nor let anyone else do so. “Think, Sir Ryalos! You know your Queen better than I do. If she were to leave a clue, where would it be? She had to know that her palace would be overrun with fiends.” It didn’t take the knight half a second to decide.
“Her throne!” They were twenty feet from the dais now. Their backs were turned to the fighting at the door, where every time the fiends managed to seriously damage on of Bren’s sentinels she just bid their wooden flesh to mend, so they didn’t see what happened in the rear of the hellish ranks. Two of the fiends that had been hurling magic from the back saw past to where the pair of companions hurried towards the thrones, then at each other and nodded. Drawing out wickedly serrated daggers from their belts, they shouted something in their accursed tongue that made mortal ears ache and plunged the knives deep into their own chests!
Past the sentinels, past Bren and Tiphaine, thick, black smoke rose up barring Sir Ryalos and Ander from the thrones. The two allies jerked to a halt, Ander falling back to sit on the floor, as it rose up higher and higher, fifteen, twenty feet high and at least twelve feet across, before forming into something out of a pure nightmare! The fiend towered over them, seeming even taller than his actual height due to the ebony horns that arose from the back of his skull and swept up and over his head to end pointed out at level with his brow. His skin was like molten magma, black cracked with pulsing red and yellow. Large fangs protruded from both his upper and lower lip in his protruding, bestial mouth dripping with drool that caused the floor of the room to hiss loudly, and his eyes were orbs of searing green flame. His long arms, which nearly reached his knees, ended in curving claws like swords, and he halved the distance to them with a single powerful stride as his mouth opened in a roar that shook the palace walls.
“Ander, get to the throne!” Sir Ryalos called, pulling the youth up and shoving him to one side, even as he drew his sword and advanced towards the fiendish lord before them. “Find the clue, then lets end this!”
“R-Right!” Ander ran far around to the side. The fiend started to follow, but the knight rushed at him and swung his sword, the keen edge biting deep and making the beast turn back, swinging and missing by inches as the elf retreated, drawing the fiend after him.
Ander reached the dais and for a moment hesitated, trying to figure out which of the near-identical thrones was the Queen’s before realizing there was no time and starting with the one on the left. He ran his hands over the arms, along the seat and back, prodded and pushed and twisted at everything he could touch. Nothing! With a cry of frustration, fueled by the sounds of his friends trying to hold back the fiends and calling out in pain as enemy attacks got through their defenses, he did the same to the one on the right. His fingers ran over the back and the intricate carvings there… and he felt a tingle, as if he had touched something of great magical power. He sensed a pulse, and his eyes were drawn to part of the wall where it seemed the prism was suddenly more translucent.
“Sir Ryalos, hurry!”
“Go, Ander! I’ll be right behind you!” Although his spared glance showed Ander that all three of his friends were badly pressed, he realized that completing their mission would save them all, put his trust in the knight, and ran behind the dais and through the wall.
He ran down a small flight of a dozen steps and came out in another chamber, this one barely twelve feet square. A runic circle about a foot in diameter on the floor lit the room with a soft violet light, tinting the rainbows the walls naturally carried, and also tinting the two figures that were kneeling opposite Ander, frozen in white crystal just like everyone else in the city.
He was slightly behind her, arms around her and lining up with her arms so that his cupped ones supported hers as well. His tunic and pants, even though transformed, held a regality in the cut and embroidery that the crystal couldn’t hide. A simple band encircled his head over his shoulder-length loose hair, lacking any adornment that Ander could see, and a cloak pooled behind him, over his boots. The expression on his face was looking at the one he held with worry, love, and trust.
She was radiantly beautiful, hair done up in a braid that trailed down one shoulder, looking like she belonged nowhere more than her lover’s arms. Her gown must’ve shimmered when she was un-enchanted, for even in its crystalline state it looked like liquid frozen mid-motion so that it seemed she knelt on both knees in a pool of white. Her crown was a lacy string of pearls that decorated her brow and blended into her hair, and her face reflected pure, undiluted hope though a crystalline tear marred the near-perfection of her face.
Both of them had their outstretched arms over the rune circle on the floor, palms up as if in request of an offering, his under hers. Ander crouched slightly; it seemed their eyes were looking at their palms. And the cradle her hands made was just about the same size as the amulet…
“Oh, hurry, Sir Ryalos!” Ander murmured, slipping the Amulet from his neck and nervously looking towards the door. He could still hear the sounds of battle ringing out, then he heard Tiphaine scream in anguish, though it didn’t sound like his own pain. There was a loud metallic banging clatter… and then the deep laughter of the massive bestial fiend that had tried to bar their way, roaring in triumph. Ander’s heart hit the floor. “No… No! Not with us so close!” He started to turn back, to head up the stairs and fight alongside his friends… die alongside them, for only now was it crystal clear how dear they were to him… when something pulled him back. His back straightened as he realized that going out and perishing with his friends would do nothing. Only victory would suffice.
Slowly he took his knees opposite the elven Queen and King, the Amulet in his hands. He didn’t touch the circle, not wanting to risk breaking whatever spells they had laid or be caught in some kind of reverberation, and for a moment studied the runes. They were beyond anything he had ever seen before, even from the Headmaster, so other than knowing they were powerful he couldn’t determine much else. Seeing no other viable option, and realizing that he would have to handle the Amulet anyhow if – when – Sir Ryalos finally made it down to him, he reached across and gently laid it into their joined hands. For one moment, their hands were beneath, and both of his on top, encasing the Amulet.
The next moment, Ander was blinded by a bright, radiant flash of warm light. He tried to instinctively throw up his arms to shield his eyes, but felt a warm, strong grip wrapping his hands, holding them in place as pulse after pulse of magic washed through him, surrounding him in comfort the likes of which he’d never felt before and encircling his heart like a warm embrace while at the same time jolting every muscle and nerve like lightning. When he could see again, he found he was looking into the elven Queen’s beautiful violet eyes. Looking to the side, he saw the King too was freed from his crystalline shell, blinking eyes as grey as the storm and apparently just as dazzled as Ander had been. Now that he could see them truly, Ander felt as if he was unworthy to be kneeling there, hands held by both of theirs in what almost felt like an affectionate grip.
The king had incredibly dark brown hair, making his eyes seem all the more mercurial. His tunic was a rich autumn red embroidered with gold threads that matched the gold circlet he wore, his cloak shimmered like the sun, and he had a faint tan. By contrast, she was all moonlight and starfire, her gown pure silvery silk and her hair a pale blond that Ander thought could easily be mistaken for white. Her diadem was delicate silver threading perfect pearls and he wouldn’t have been surprised to find out there were diamond threads in there too, it sparkled so. Her skin was the color of pure cream, and with her attire and general coloration made her eyes stand out in stark contrast so that they were mesmerizing.
How long they knelt like that, Ander didn’t know for certain, but he was abruptly pulled back to the present by Bren’s scream from up above, making him gasp.
“Please – fiends… my friends!” The regal pair just nodded, their hands momentarily tightened on Ander’s, and then in a blink they all stood up in the throne room. Bren’s two sentinels were still holding the bulk of the horde back, but one had gotten through and had apparently come very close to gutting Tiphaine, who lay unconscious on the floor, and now stood towering over Bren, holding her down with a clawed foot digging into her shoulder while the bestial one approached. Sir Ryalos, Ander saw with heart-stopping alarm, lay on the throne room floor, unmoving and as far as he could see not breathing, blood pooling in a macabre contract to the perfect floor around him. Ander was about to rush forward, already calling his most powerful spell to mind, when he felt the King’s hand upon his right shoulder and the Queen’s on his left. They both took a single step forward, turning inwards so that the front of their bodies faced each other though they looked at the enemy in their palace, raised their free hands, and in perfect unison spoke a single, commanding word.
The world seemed to stop for five heartbeats.
Then, with screams coming from a cacophony of hellish throats, all of the fiends that Ander could see both within the throne room and without just disintegrated into dust! Realizing the implications even as he heard the scream echo over the city, the youth sank to the ground in dazed elation.
The fiends were gone! Victory was in their hands!
But then he looked at Sir Ryalos, and had to wonder how high the cost had been. Standing, half-stumbling from weakness and denial as the rulers of the Elven Empire released him, he staggered over as Bren and a groggy Tiphaine pulled themselves up and joined him, tears in their eyes and soon running down all their faces.
“Oh, Sir Ryalos,” the apprentice wept, as Bren laid a trembling hand on his shoulder and he then put his arm around her.
“He held the big one off of us,” Tiphaine said softly, tone one of great respect. “He knew that it would beat him, but didn’t care. A true Hero.” There was a soft swish of silk, and the three looked up to see the Queen and King standing with them, seeming to not notice the blood marring their shoes and catching on the trailing edge of his cloak and her dress. They looked at one another and nodded, and the Queen knelt to gently smooth the knight’s hair off of his brow, her expression motherly in nature. Her King put his hands on her shoulders, as she put hers on the knight’s chest. There was a silent burst of white-gold light, and much to their amazement Sir Ryalos gasped in a deep breath, eyes flying open like he’d been awoken from a long dream. Bren’s hand flew to her mouth in shock, and both Ander and Tiphaine cried out, as the knight quickly sat up, one hand scrambling for his sword even as he looked around, presumably seeking his opponent again. Then he spied his king and queen, standing alive before him, and was quick to take to a knee even in his own blood.
“King Aiduin, Queen Ashera!” He bowed his head as Queen Ashera stood, and finally she spoke.
“Well done, Sir Ryalos Keldern. I had a feeling when you accepted your amulet that somehow your fate was tied in with the restoration of our nation.” Her voice was smooth and soft, yet held incredible power in its depths such that Ander could hear it as easily as he heard thunder heralding a great storm.
“Your Majesties,” the knight spoke honestly, “the credit is not all mine.” He looked up at them. “These three with me, Brennevara, Tiphaine, and Ander all assisted. It was Ander who carried the Amulet, as it seemed his father inherited it somehow.” The royal couple took their thrones – the magic location had been on his, Ander noted – and the four companions stood and approached at a gesture from King Aiduin.
“Pardon if I sound like the last one to the party,” Tiphaine quipped glibly, earning him a small scowl from Sir Ryalos for impertinence, though the two royals gave small smiles, “but how did you get to them, Ander? I thought that you both would’ve been enchanted just like everyone else, your highnesses.”
“We were,” answered the King, “and when it broke, Ander was kneeling before us, having placed the Amulet – my own father's Amulet, I might add – into our hands." He frowned slightly. "But that you, Ander, had it is distressing to us because of whom we gave it go.” He touched his queen’s arm, and they were alarmed to see tears shimmering in her eyes as she nodded.
“How did you come to have it? Do you know?”
“I can answer that, your Majesties,” came a smooth, elven voice from the doorway to the throne room which had Bren, Tiphaine, and Ander looking over their shoulders in confusion (though Ander recognized the voice) and Sir Ryalos whipping around so fast he almost stumbled, eyes wide. Dressed in a black tunic adorned with silver stitching and pants tucked into thigh-high black boots, the newcomer wore a cloak of a most unusual cut; the hem of it seemed intentionally jagged, and it brushed his ankles as he strolled towards them though one corner had a piece torn away. A wide-brimmed hat rested on the his head and cast a deep shadow over his face, but this time instead of like before he pushed back the brim to reveal an elf with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes, just like the knight. There was some dark fiend blood staining his clothing, and he walked with a slight limp, but his expression was bright and his smile warm, especially when he nodded at the knight, the smile turning into a small smirk. “Not often I catch you speechless, Ryalos.”
“Talfain!” Sir Ryalos for a moment forgot all decorum and rushed the new elf, throwing his arms around the other and pulling him to his chest in an embrace that was fondly returned, even as he added, “I thought you had perished, my brother!”
“Brother!” Bren gasped, before glancing at Ander. “Is that not the elf that approached you in the garden before?” Ander nodded. Talfain patted Sir Ryalos’ back fondly.
“No, though I have been in hiding for many, many years. I missed you, my brother. We have much to catch up on, but first I believe our king and queen are awaiting an explanation.” The knight had the dignity to blush slightly as his etiquette breech, but if anything Queen Ashera and King Aiduin seemed pleased by the reunion as the king motioned for the pair to approach. Talfain knelt briefly before he stood and began, looking at the apprentice.
“You had the Amulet, Ander, because I ensured it would be so.”
“Please, Talfain,” the Queen all but begged, “what happened to him? What happened to our son, whom we put into your care?” By Sir Ryalos’ wide eyes he had been unaware of that detail of his brother’s task.
“He is safe, though weary, and as you instructed kept very safe all these years, even if the methods I was forced to employ were… unusual.”
“You said you would keep him in your hidden hut,” prompted the King. The elf nodded.
“And thus I did, until fiends found a way to break into the spell-created pocket realm and attacked. I was forced to flee with the boy and find a new hiding place for him, where the fiends would never think to look, and disguise him, even closing off his memories so that he wouldn’t suffer though it had been some time after the capital fell. He missed you both so much that it broke my heart every day.”
“And he is?” With a dramatic motion, Talfain pointed.
“Right there, your Majesties.” Everyone gaped in shock, for the elf was pointing at Ander!
Ander had never known before what it felt like to be a soldier. Knowing that in the next few minutes your life could come to an end. But that’s exactly how he felt crouched on the stairs leading up to the final door with Bren and Tiphaine, Sir Ryalos higher and listening at a hole designed for just that purpose. Separated from them by a scant foot of stone was the interior of the royal palace of Esha A’sari, and likely a hundred fiends or more that roamed its halls claiming it as their own. Sir Ryalos vowed that he knew the quickest route to the throne room where the Amulet was to be used, given that he’d served in the palace every day for nearly a century, but cautioned that the closer they got, the more dangerous it would be and the stronger protected the throne room doors.
“If there was only a way to get into the royal escape passage you mentioned, Sir Ryalos,” Tiphaine quietly lamented. “That’s in the throne room itself!”
“Only one of royal blood can open that path,” the knight countered. “We will have to prevail with the situation at hand.” He nodded. “The way is clear. Are we ready?” They nodded, then he fixed Ander with a focused gaze. “Above all else, Ander, even if we come under attack, you are to get to the throne room! And the rest of us are to protect you with everything we can.”
“And if I fall dying,” Ander finished, his voice surprisingly steady despite his shaking hands, “then someone slay me, and take the amulet. No matter what do not let one of those fiends end me!” The knight nodded, his expression somber. Bren took Ander’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze, and impulsively the apprentice gently pulled her to him and kissed her briefly on the lips. Despite the circumstances, the youth managed to find a smile for her surprise. “I wanted to know that if I don’t make it, I’d die having kissed my love at least once.”
“And when we get out of this,” encouraged Tiphaine, “you can try for a proper kiss! I could even demonstrate, if the lovely Bren will permit.”
“Try it, Tiphaine, and you will find yourself discovering the famed wrath of nature. And it’s Brennevara.” None of them doubted what this sudden banter was, just nerves before the battle. When they signaled they were ready, the knight gently pushed the door open, and they slid out.
Ander had tried many times since finding out about the Amulet to imagine what the inside of the palace would look like, since it had never been described and he hadn’t been able to see it past the enshrouding clouds. He only had human castles to reference, so he envisioned thick walls of stone, paintings and vases on pedestals, and more rooms that he would know what to do with. Thus it was when he stepped out that he found himself standing on what he at first thought was a shimmering rainbow. Then he blinked, and he realized that he was standing on a prismatic crystal that constructed the floor, walls, and ceiling around him which someone refracted the light entering it to render it opaque enough to prevent seeing through it to other rooms, yet still have the clarity of a proper prism. The walls were carved to resemble trees, and though the walls were in their original state exquisite décor trapped in white crystal enhanced the palace’s splendor. The beams that spanned the ceiling were carved as well, like branches and leaves, so that it felt as if he stood in some fae fantasy realm of pure light. Words escaped his mind for the beauty that he saw all around him.
“By flame and blood!” Tiphaine gasped, looking out a window. Ander’s gaze followed, and his mouth fell open. There, floating in mid-air, was a five or six level tower of the same prism material, connected to the main structure by a walkway of translucent rainbow light. Another such tower was just in view on a lower level. By his best guess, they were about four stories up.
“Hurry!” Sir Ryalos tugged on Ander’s clothes and brought his mind back to the present, and they quickly followed him. “Remember, we cannot afford a drawn-out battle. We must reach the throne room!”
He led them as quickly and quietly as possible down two halls before they heard or saw any sign of a fiend, when three, perhaps hearing the noise of the companions in the halls, stepped out of a room. Sir Ryalos rushed at this, his blade taking one’s leg and sending it to the ground with a howl of pain, Tiphaine’s rapier plunged into another’s throat leaving it gasping for air, and Ander called up his magic to make the third jerk back, then begin struggling against an opponent that was present only in its mind. He was focused enough to take a swipe at them as they passed, nicking Tiphaine in the shoulder with its claws, but was otherwise too occupied to threaten them.
Down a flight of stairs they now full-out ran, knowing that the shouts from the ones above wouldn’t permit their approach to remain secret for long. When they heard noises up ahead and caught a reflection in the crystalline walls of five fiends approaching, ready for battle it seemed that avoiding the conflict would be impossible until Tiphaine suddenly snapped his head towards one wall, rapidly felt along it, and discovered a secret passage hidden within. They slipped inside and watched unseen through the crystalline walls as their enemies passed by, taking a moment to catch their breath.
“Heh,” the fiend-blood chuckled softly, “Lithital always said I had an eye for the hidden.”
“There’s a hall connected to this,” Bren pointed out.
“Secret passages run throughout the palace, though I don’t know all of them,” Sir Ryalos murmured. Ander started down the hall in the same direction they had been going.
“Well lets use them as much as we can!”
The halls let them dodge two more fiend patrols, before they had to step out into a library on the second floor. Ander stared about him in amazement at the shelves and hundreds upon hundreds of books that lined them, feeling his fingers itch to pick up even just one and crack open its cover.
“How many of the Lost Magics are detailed right here!” he whispered to himself in awe.
“When this is through,” promised the knight, “I’ll see to it that you may spend as much time here as you like, Ander. But not now.” Reluctantly, Ander nodded, and they slipped out into the hall. “Down this hall,” he instructed as they ran, “down a flight of stairs, then one final hall to the throne room doors. We’re almost there!” They rounded the end of the hall, and saw the stairs ahead… as well as seven huge fiends that were apparently guarding it. Seeing the four skidding to a stop, the bestial denizens of hell howled battlecries and drew weapons, preparing to charge. Grimly Sir Ryalos drew his sword, as did Tiphaine. Bren and Ander fell back to be behind the warriors. There was no avoiding this fight.
As the seven rushed them, and knight and scoundrel moved to meet them, Ander struck the first blow by capturing some of the rainbow lights bouncing around in the walls and refracting it into the enemies’ eyes, making three of them howl in pain and stagger, blinded, to a stop. Tiphaine jumped over the downward slice of the one that approached him, actually landing on the creature’s arm and leaping up onto its massive shoulder where he stabbed downwards into the side of its neck. It bellowed, bleeding badly but not defeated yet, and nearly caught hold of the man’s leg as he jumped off. Sir Ryalos’ blade deflected the strikes coming at him from all sides from the other three before he got in an attack of his own, sword cutting low across one’s thigh, then plunging deep into one’s belly. Like Tiphaine’s foe, it was a terrible wound but not as mortal as they could have wished and the fiend fought on. Finally able to face down some of the creatures that had wrecked such havoc with the land Bren straightened and her countenance took on something of the aspect she’d had when she and Ander had first met, like an all-powerful queen. No, Ander corrected himself, it was more the other way around. That time had been a mirror of her posture and stature now, as she seemed to grow slightly and all the wrath of nature cracked like lightning in her eyes. She held up a hand, and a powerful whirl of air burst from her palm like a cyclone, throwing fiends in all direction and tearing at the companions’ clothing and hair as well, even though they were not in its direct path. The one that Sir Ryalos had struck collided with a wall and vanished, banished in death back to the hells, and many others were dazed.
“The stairs are clear!” Tiphaine shouted, and they rushed forward though Ander had to pull Bren to follow as it seemed she wanted to remain and finish the fiends off. From the top of the stairs they looked down, with Sir Ryalos saying that just around the corner was the throne room, to see another ten fiends below. Without hesitation, the fiend-blood jumped, landing half-way down the banister and leaping again from there to land upon one of the giant creature’s shoulders. While that one jerked in surprise Tiphaine stabbed into its shoulder, then jumped onto another’s shoulder. The first rounded on him swung his claws, and Tiphaine dodged, causing that one to strike his fellow. “Go!” he shouted, “I’ll deal with them and catch up!” Bren hurled a lightning bolt as they passed, and the three began rushing down the long hall towards a pair of high double doors of darkly-stained wood. About a third of the way there, there was a loud shout behind them and Tiphaine came tumbling through the air as if hurled, rolling across the ground. They others were quick to his side to pull him up, though they saw that he wasn’t badly hurt and rushed on while hearing more furious fiends gathering at their backs. It was when they got close enough to the throne room doors that Ander caught sight of a problem.
“There’s a bar!” Indeed, spanning both of the doors was a thick iron bar at least as wide as Ander himself was tall, set about ten feet up. There was no possible way they could reach it, let alone move it! The apprentice felt Tiphaine take hold on his sleeve, and saw him grab Sir Ryalos’ bracer.
“Bren, grab hold of me and no one let go!” he ordered, and when she’d obeyed he pulled them into a rush directly at the doors. “Brace yourselves!” None of the other three could hold back cries of surprise as he didn’t slow down, and they ran right through the wood like a ghost into the chamber beyond!
“What was that?!” Sir Ryalos gasped, eyes wide. Tiphaine just grinned, though he was shaking all over and pale, seeming drained.
“Just a spell that I picked up.” There was a banging on the doors behind them, then a loud crash that had a metallic ring – so much for the iron bar. “Now hurry!” Even as knight and wizard turned towards the thrones made of pure white wood set atop a small dias the doors flung open. Bren spun around and held up her hands, and the doors flanking the entering fiends cracked ominously, making them hesitate. As they stared seeming in shock, the doors broke themselves free of their hinges and twisted, timber warping and fibers snapping until they had formed into two giant wooden sentinels that began swinging fists as hard as the thickest tree trunks, hurling fiends back into the hall and out of the room. With determined strides, these constructs turned to block the way, and Bren followed, remaining about ten feet back from them with her arms up to direct their blows. Although his magic was clearly quickly becoming exhausted, Tiphaine hurried to her side, conjuring up a dome of energy to protect the both of them against any ranged projectiles that the enemy decided to send their way. And just in time as a black bolt of magic struck it, crackling over the surface but doing no harm. Their allies thus protected, Sir Ryalos and Ander ran on.
“We’re almost there!” the elf encouraged, a broad smile coming to his face as he glanced Ander’s way. “Soon my homeland will be fr-“ He cut himself off with a gasp as he fully faced the thrones and realized what his eyes saw for the first time. “What -!”
“What’s wrong?”
“The thrones – they’re empty! Where is the Queen and King!” Ander looked ahead and saw that the thrones were indeed empty. “The enchantment can only be broken in their presence. What did we do wrong!?” His question was almost a wail of despair.
“Maybe there’s a clue,” the youth encouraged, not willing to surrender yet nor let anyone else do so. “Think, Sir Ryalos! You know your Queen better than I do. If she were to leave a clue, where would it be? She had to know that her palace would be overrun with fiends.” It didn’t take the knight half a second to decide.
“Her throne!” They were twenty feet from the dais now. Their backs were turned to the fighting at the door, where every time the fiends managed to seriously damage on of Bren’s sentinels she just bid their wooden flesh to mend, so they didn’t see what happened in the rear of the hellish ranks. Two of the fiends that had been hurling magic from the back saw past to where the pair of companions hurried towards the thrones, then at each other and nodded. Drawing out wickedly serrated daggers from their belts, they shouted something in their accursed tongue that made mortal ears ache and plunged the knives deep into their own chests!
Past the sentinels, past Bren and Tiphaine, thick, black smoke rose up barring Sir Ryalos and Ander from the thrones. The two allies jerked to a halt, Ander falling back to sit on the floor, as it rose up higher and higher, fifteen, twenty feet high and at least twelve feet across, before forming into something out of a pure nightmare! The fiend towered over them, seeming even taller than his actual height due to the ebony horns that arose from the back of his skull and swept up and over his head to end pointed out at level with his brow. His skin was like molten magma, black cracked with pulsing red and yellow. Large fangs protruded from both his upper and lower lip in his protruding, bestial mouth dripping with drool that caused the floor of the room to hiss loudly, and his eyes were orbs of searing green flame. His long arms, which nearly reached his knees, ended in curving claws like swords, and he halved the distance to them with a single powerful stride as his mouth opened in a roar that shook the palace walls.
“Ander, get to the throne!” Sir Ryalos called, pulling the youth up and shoving him to one side, even as he drew his sword and advanced towards the fiendish lord before them. “Find the clue, then lets end this!”
“R-Right!” Ander ran far around to the side. The fiend started to follow, but the knight rushed at him and swung his sword, the keen edge biting deep and making the beast turn back, swinging and missing by inches as the elf retreated, drawing the fiend after him.
Ander reached the dais and for a moment hesitated, trying to figure out which of the near-identical thrones was the Queen’s before realizing there was no time and starting with the one on the left. He ran his hands over the arms, along the seat and back, prodded and pushed and twisted at everything he could touch. Nothing! With a cry of frustration, fueled by the sounds of his friends trying to hold back the fiends and calling out in pain as enemy attacks got through their defenses, he did the same to the one on the right. His fingers ran over the back and the intricate carvings there… and he felt a tingle, as if he had touched something of great magical power. He sensed a pulse, and his eyes were drawn to part of the wall where it seemed the prism was suddenly more translucent.
“Sir Ryalos, hurry!”
“Go, Ander! I’ll be right behind you!” Although his spared glance showed Ander that all three of his friends were badly pressed, he realized that completing their mission would save them all, put his trust in the knight, and ran behind the dais and through the wall.
He ran down a small flight of a dozen steps and came out in another chamber, this one barely twelve feet square. A runic circle about a foot in diameter on the floor lit the room with a soft violet light, tinting the rainbows the walls naturally carried, and also tinting the two figures that were kneeling opposite Ander, frozen in white crystal just like everyone else in the city.
He was slightly behind her, arms around her and lining up with her arms so that his cupped ones supported hers as well. His tunic and pants, even though transformed, held a regality in the cut and embroidery that the crystal couldn’t hide. A simple band encircled his head over his shoulder-length loose hair, lacking any adornment that Ander could see, and a cloak pooled behind him, over his boots. The expression on his face was looking at the one he held with worry, love, and trust.
She was radiantly beautiful, hair done up in a braid that trailed down one shoulder, looking like she belonged nowhere more than her lover’s arms. Her gown must’ve shimmered when she was un-enchanted, for even in its crystalline state it looked like liquid frozen mid-motion so that it seemed she knelt on both knees in a pool of white. Her crown was a lacy string of pearls that decorated her brow and blended into her hair, and her face reflected pure, undiluted hope though a crystalline tear marred the near-perfection of her face.
Both of them had their outstretched arms over the rune circle on the floor, palms up as if in request of an offering, his under hers. Ander crouched slightly; it seemed their eyes were looking at their palms. And the cradle her hands made was just about the same size as the amulet…
“Oh, hurry, Sir Ryalos!” Ander murmured, slipping the Amulet from his neck and nervously looking towards the door. He could still hear the sounds of battle ringing out, then he heard Tiphaine scream in anguish, though it didn’t sound like his own pain. There was a loud metallic banging clatter… and then the deep laughter of the massive bestial fiend that had tried to bar their way, roaring in triumph. Ander’s heart hit the floor. “No… No! Not with us so close!” He started to turn back, to head up the stairs and fight alongside his friends… die alongside them, for only now was it crystal clear how dear they were to him… when something pulled him back. His back straightened as he realized that going out and perishing with his friends would do nothing. Only victory would suffice.
Slowly he took his knees opposite the elven Queen and King, the Amulet in his hands. He didn’t touch the circle, not wanting to risk breaking whatever spells they had laid or be caught in some kind of reverberation, and for a moment studied the runes. They were beyond anything he had ever seen before, even from the Headmaster, so other than knowing they were powerful he couldn’t determine much else. Seeing no other viable option, and realizing that he would have to handle the Amulet anyhow if – when – Sir Ryalos finally made it down to him, he reached across and gently laid it into their joined hands. For one moment, their hands were beneath, and both of his on top, encasing the Amulet.
The next moment, Ander was blinded by a bright, radiant flash of warm light. He tried to instinctively throw up his arms to shield his eyes, but felt a warm, strong grip wrapping his hands, holding them in place as pulse after pulse of magic washed through him, surrounding him in comfort the likes of which he’d never felt before and encircling his heart like a warm embrace while at the same time jolting every muscle and nerve like lightning. When he could see again, he found he was looking into the elven Queen’s beautiful violet eyes. Looking to the side, he saw the King too was freed from his crystalline shell, blinking eyes as grey as the storm and apparently just as dazzled as Ander had been. Now that he could see them truly, Ander felt as if he was unworthy to be kneeling there, hands held by both of theirs in what almost felt like an affectionate grip.
The king had incredibly dark brown hair, making his eyes seem all the more mercurial. His tunic was a rich autumn red embroidered with gold threads that matched the gold circlet he wore, his cloak shimmered like the sun, and he had a faint tan. By contrast, she was all moonlight and starfire, her gown pure silvery silk and her hair a pale blond that Ander thought could easily be mistaken for white. Her diadem was delicate silver threading perfect pearls and he wouldn’t have been surprised to find out there were diamond threads in there too, it sparkled so. Her skin was the color of pure cream, and with her attire and general coloration made her eyes stand out in stark contrast so that they were mesmerizing.
How long they knelt like that, Ander didn’t know for certain, but he was abruptly pulled back to the present by Bren’s scream from up above, making him gasp.
“Please – fiends… my friends!” The regal pair just nodded, their hands momentarily tightened on Ander’s, and then in a blink they all stood up in the throne room. Bren’s two sentinels were still holding the bulk of the horde back, but one had gotten through and had apparently come very close to gutting Tiphaine, who lay unconscious on the floor, and now stood towering over Bren, holding her down with a clawed foot digging into her shoulder while the bestial one approached. Sir Ryalos, Ander saw with heart-stopping alarm, lay on the throne room floor, unmoving and as far as he could see not breathing, blood pooling in a macabre contract to the perfect floor around him. Ander was about to rush forward, already calling his most powerful spell to mind, when he felt the King’s hand upon his right shoulder and the Queen’s on his left. They both took a single step forward, turning inwards so that the front of their bodies faced each other though they looked at the enemy in their palace, raised their free hands, and in perfect unison spoke a single, commanding word.
The world seemed to stop for five heartbeats.
Then, with screams coming from a cacophony of hellish throats, all of the fiends that Ander could see both within the throne room and without just disintegrated into dust! Realizing the implications even as he heard the scream echo over the city, the youth sank to the ground in dazed elation.
The fiends were gone! Victory was in their hands!
But then he looked at Sir Ryalos, and had to wonder how high the cost had been. Standing, half-stumbling from weakness and denial as the rulers of the Elven Empire released him, he staggered over as Bren and a groggy Tiphaine pulled themselves up and joined him, tears in their eyes and soon running down all their faces.
“Oh, Sir Ryalos,” the apprentice wept, as Bren laid a trembling hand on his shoulder and he then put his arm around her.
“He held the big one off of us,” Tiphaine said softly, tone one of great respect. “He knew that it would beat him, but didn’t care. A true Hero.” There was a soft swish of silk, and the three looked up to see the Queen and King standing with them, seeming to not notice the blood marring their shoes and catching on the trailing edge of his cloak and her dress. They looked at one another and nodded, and the Queen knelt to gently smooth the knight’s hair off of his brow, her expression motherly in nature. Her King put his hands on her shoulders, as she put hers on the knight’s chest. There was a silent burst of white-gold light, and much to their amazement Sir Ryalos gasped in a deep breath, eyes flying open like he’d been awoken from a long dream. Bren’s hand flew to her mouth in shock, and both Ander and Tiphaine cried out, as the knight quickly sat up, one hand scrambling for his sword even as he looked around, presumably seeking his opponent again. Then he spied his king and queen, standing alive before him, and was quick to take to a knee even in his own blood.
“King Aiduin, Queen Ashera!” He bowed his head as Queen Ashera stood, and finally she spoke.
“Well done, Sir Ryalos Keldern. I had a feeling when you accepted your amulet that somehow your fate was tied in with the restoration of our nation.” Her voice was smooth and soft, yet held incredible power in its depths such that Ander could hear it as easily as he heard thunder heralding a great storm.
“Your Majesties,” the knight spoke honestly, “the credit is not all mine.” He looked up at them. “These three with me, Brennevara, Tiphaine, and Ander all assisted. It was Ander who carried the Amulet, as it seemed his father inherited it somehow.” The royal couple took their thrones – the magic location had been on his, Ander noted – and the four companions stood and approached at a gesture from King Aiduin.
“Pardon if I sound like the last one to the party,” Tiphaine quipped glibly, earning him a small scowl from Sir Ryalos for impertinence, though the two royals gave small smiles, “but how did you get to them, Ander? I thought that you both would’ve been enchanted just like everyone else, your highnesses.”
“We were,” answered the King, “and when it broke, Ander was kneeling before us, having placed the Amulet – my own father's Amulet, I might add – into our hands." He frowned slightly. "But that you, Ander, had it is distressing to us because of whom we gave it go.” He touched his queen’s arm, and they were alarmed to see tears shimmering in her eyes as she nodded.
“How did you come to have it? Do you know?”
“I can answer that, your Majesties,” came a smooth, elven voice from the doorway to the throne room which had Bren, Tiphaine, and Ander looking over their shoulders in confusion (though Ander recognized the voice) and Sir Ryalos whipping around so fast he almost stumbled, eyes wide. Dressed in a black tunic adorned with silver stitching and pants tucked into thigh-high black boots, the newcomer wore a cloak of a most unusual cut; the hem of it seemed intentionally jagged, and it brushed his ankles as he strolled towards them though one corner had a piece torn away. A wide-brimmed hat rested on the his head and cast a deep shadow over his face, but this time instead of like before he pushed back the brim to reveal an elf with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes, just like the knight. There was some dark fiend blood staining his clothing, and he walked with a slight limp, but his expression was bright and his smile warm, especially when he nodded at the knight, the smile turning into a small smirk. “Not often I catch you speechless, Ryalos.”
“Talfain!” Sir Ryalos for a moment forgot all decorum and rushed the new elf, throwing his arms around the other and pulling him to his chest in an embrace that was fondly returned, even as he added, “I thought you had perished, my brother!”
“Brother!” Bren gasped, before glancing at Ander. “Is that not the elf that approached you in the garden before?” Ander nodded. Talfain patted Sir Ryalos’ back fondly.
“No, though I have been in hiding for many, many years. I missed you, my brother. We have much to catch up on, but first I believe our king and queen are awaiting an explanation.” The knight had the dignity to blush slightly as his etiquette breech, but if anything Queen Ashera and King Aiduin seemed pleased by the reunion as the king motioned for the pair to approach. Talfain knelt briefly before he stood and began, looking at the apprentice.
“You had the Amulet, Ander, because I ensured it would be so.”
“Please, Talfain,” the Queen all but begged, “what happened to him? What happened to our son, whom we put into your care?” By Sir Ryalos’ wide eyes he had been unaware of that detail of his brother’s task.
“He is safe, though weary, and as you instructed kept very safe all these years, even if the methods I was forced to employ were… unusual.”
“You said you would keep him in your hidden hut,” prompted the King. The elf nodded.
“And thus I did, until fiends found a way to break into the spell-created pocket realm and attacked. I was forced to flee with the boy and find a new hiding place for him, where the fiends would never think to look, and disguise him, even closing off his memories so that he wouldn’t suffer though it had been some time after the capital fell. He missed you both so much that it broke my heart every day.”
“And he is?” With a dramatic motion, Talfain pointed.
“Right there, your Majesties.” Everyone gaped in shock, for the elf was pointing at Ander!
