Heir of the Elements (6 page)

“I…I’m t…trying,” stuttered Aya, pain in her voice.

“Close your eyes and focus.”

The girls closed their eyes. With her last ounce of strength, Faith fought off Draknorr’s veil of darkness. She could feel Aya doing the same.

Then, quite suddenly, her body felt as light as air. She and Aya crashed to the floor, battered and exhausted. Above them a wicked coat of dark mist disintegrated into thin air, wailing loudly in the voice of a tortured woman.

Despite the loud screeches, Faith allowed herself a small breath, celebrating her small victory. But just as she relaxed, a scream permeated the air, chilling her to the core.

Falcon. He was in trouble.

Chapter 7

“Aya, stop.” Falcon heard Faith plead from outside the shattered window, causing his desperation to intensify. He struggled to move again, but that only caused him to sink even more into the tar.

“It looks like one of your friends will be dead soon enough,” mocked Draknorr. “Which one will be the one to survive, and which one will live? Now
that’s
the golden question.”

“Stop this!” ordered Falcon through gritted teeth. His friends were mere feet from him, and they needed him now more than ever. He willed the power that rested at his core forward. It warmed his body as it bubbled through him. His usual gray emblem turned a misty blue. Shooting stars moved through it at high velocity. A second later Falcon felt the familiar pull of the vortex. He disappeared inside the hole. When he appeared again he was standing in Aya’s front yard. He breathed a sigh of relief as he trudged across the soft pasture. He had hoped to end up in the backyard where Aya and Faith were, but at least he was free.

He snapped his head around as the front doors unexpectedly flew of their hinges. With a loud burst, they crashed into the front gate, breaking into dozens of pieces.

Draknorr shook off a few pieces of scattered wood that had landed on his fist. He took a slow step into the front yard. As he moved he growled softly. “No void wielder will ever be enough to defeat me, boy.”

“Will a dual wielder suffice?”

No way.
Falcon slowly craned his neck. Half a dozen guards who patrolled the streets lay on the floor, blood pooling from under them. High atop the fence stood the man who had made his life miserable for half a lifetime. His trademark dark robe hung from his skinny body. The ragged purple scarf was there as well. He wore a deep frown across his bony face, which was not unnatural in the least. Falcon had never seen the man display anything that resembled a smile.

Professor Kraimaster jumped down from the gate. His robes batted loudly on the air as he landed on in front of Falcon with a thump.

“What are you doing here, professor?” asked Falcon.

“Zhut your mouth, Mizter Hyatt,” ordered Kraimaster. He didn’t bother to look back at Falcon; instead his eyes remained locked on the dark wielder before him. “You’ve cauzed enough trouble az it iz.”

Me? What did I do? At least I haven’t been hiding who-knows-where as the people of Va’siel suffered.
At least that was what he wanted to say, but instead all he did was remain silent.

“I see you are a dual wielder like myself,” said Draknorr, peering at Kraimaster. He brought his hands together and revealed his lightning and dark emblems. “Which means you have to be him. Drogan, the twin-headed serpent of Ladria.”

Twin-headed serpent of Ladria?
Falcon had never heard the professor be called by that moniker.

“Well, I suppose you’re the one-headed serpent now. Your other half didn’t survive my attack.” He took a step forward. “Do you know how I killed her?”

If Kraimaster was fazed by his enemy’s words, he didn’t show it. His hardened face remained with its usual frown.

“I used the screeching banshee!” Draknorr cackled. “Oh, you should have heard her crying for her life, crying out your name for aid. It was pathetic!” His laughter grew loud and erratic. “Even as the Banshee tore her apart, she maintained the shield over the children. She could have saved herself had she not wasted the protection on them. That’s why only fools care for others. It brings only destruction on oneself.” He nodded his head. “And now look at you, Drogan. Ready to give your life for the same brat your wife died defending.”

Falcon’s mind received a burst of clear shock. He stood in place, but his mind was speeding through space. Were Draknorr’s words really true? He had no recollection of such an event. It had to be a lie; it just had to be.

“Oh, so you don’t know, boy,” said Draknorr, noticing Falcon’s confusion. His black armor plates clanked against each other as he took a few steps closer. The fauld jingled loudest of all. “I suspect a mind wielder’s work. Grandmaster Zoen, perhaps?”

Falcon ran to Kraimaster, his breaths heavy. “Is this true, professor?”

Kraimaster turned to Falcon with vengeful eyes, and for once he understood why the professor always hated him so. A lump formed in his throat as he struggled to apologize, but nothing came.

“Ztay out of my way, Mizter Hyatt.” The professor’s bony jaw trembled in anger. “I won’t allow you to die and make my beloved’z zacrifice be in vain.”

Slowly, Falcon moved back. He knew that no matter how much he wanted to get his hands on Draknorr, he could not. This was a one-on-one affair.

“I’ll kill you both!” said Draknorr. He unsheathed the long double-edged sword that hung from his waist.

With a puff of smoke, an overly long scythe materialized in Kraimaster’s hands. Its handle was pristine black. The long crescent blade at the end glistened as the moonlight bounced off it.

The weapons clashed.

Kraimaster twirled his scythe. The bladed part hooked his opponent’s weapon. He brought it down. The sword hit the ground.

Falcon held his breath.

Draknorr pulled his sword free, but before he had a chance to mount an attack, Kraimaster came down on him with a flurry of scythe attacks.

The bladed weapons clanked as they smashed into each other time and time again.

Suddenly, a burst of red lightning burst from the sword’s tip.

Kraimaster grunted as the lightning spread through his body. A second later, however, the lightning disappeared into his chest. He huffed and blew. Countless webs of red, blue, and green lighting flew from his mouth.

Falcon stood starry-eyed. He’d never seen anyone mix the elements like that.

As Draknorr stumbled back, trying to avoid the rippling attacks, a dark coffin took form behind him out of thin air. The dark wielder jumped back, unknowingly throwing himself into the trap. The black door shut, drowning away his angry yelps.

Falcon allowed himself a breath. Finally, that monster was going to die.

Kraimaster glanced at the ground under him. His eyes widened. “When did he have time to—” A giant scaly hand burst from the ground and took hold of the professor. Clear pus burst from the hand as its tightened its grip. With every passing second, the professor’s face turned a deeper shade of red.

“Let me help you!” cried Falcon. He readied himself.

“No,” said Kraimaster. He looked over at the coffin. “Liquid Decimation!”

Immediately the coffin turned into a thick liquid. Inside the moving mass of fluid Falcon made out a form struggling within. It kicked and punched wildly.

The coffin dissolved, and Draknorr crashed to the ground. Dark water dripped from every inch that covered his armor. Opposite of him, Kraimaster was also free. The hand that had encased him moments ago had now crumpled uselessly to the grass.

“Not bad, Drogan,” said Draknorr. “A prolonged battle against you could lead to my demise.” He held up his hands, as if baiting Kraimaster into attacking. “Unfortunately for you, I am not alone. The power of the Blood Empress is with me.” He threw a small capsule that couldn’t be bigger than a few inches into the grass. It burst instantly. A puff of smoke spread from it. At first it appeared as a shapeless mass of nothing, but slowly it took the form of a cloaked figure. The figure wore a feminine metal mask, dry blood gushing out of her eyes.

Blood Empress!
mused Falcon. He had seen the leader of the Suteckh only once before. Of course back then he had no idea that it was Aya’s sister who was behind the mask.

“Come to me,” roared Draknorr. The ghostly image of the empress screeched a loud, unnatural sound as it drove into the dark knight’s chest. His eyes glowed a blinding red. “Yes! The power of her highness has healed and powered me twofold. In your weakened state, you have no chance, Drogan.”

Still frowning, the professor waved his hand. The scythe reappeared in his bony hands. “Not even the Blood Emprezz will be able to change your fate, Kraimaster. You zhall perizh tonight.”

Despite Kraimaster’s brave front, Falcon was worried. The professor had obviously drained much of his energy. He no longer cared. He was going to help whether Kraimaster wanted his aid or not.

“Don’t interfere!” ordered Draknorr. He brought both his hands together. Out of the balled fists a pale creature appeared. It resembled a malnourished woman mixed with a crow. Wrinkled skin sagged from her face. Hollowed pits resided where her eyes should have been. Instead of hands, she had long wings with dark plumage. “Get him, Screeching Banshee.”

Screeching Banshee. It’s the same creature that killed Kraimaster’s wife.
Before Falcon could form a strategy the woman took to the air, and then flew straight down at him, screeching loudly as it dove.

Every ounce of Falcon’s body begged him to cover his ears. He had to drown out the sounds that rattled in his brain, threatening to drive him mad. Against his will, he forced his energy to drop in temperature. With a flick of his chilled fingers, icy spears shot forward. They clashed into the creature and dissolved harmlessly.

What in the world?
His emblem changed into a deep red. Fire spheres whizzed from his hands and into the woman’s chest. Again, the attacks dissolved harmlessly.

Falcon braced himself, for the creature was now directly above him. It opened his screeching mouth even wider, exposing a set of evenly-aligned fangs. Falcon reached for his broadsword and drew it out. Without time to properly aim, he swung it wildly, barely missing the creature’s head by inches.

The banshee flew back. Its saggy skin wobbled as it circled above. His nose wrinkled as the putrid stench of the banshee reached him. It smelled of dry blood mixed with rotten corpse.

The monster drew its sharp talons back and flew back in.

I got it this time.
He brought up a fire net. The creature was coming down with such velocity that there was no way it could escape. But before he could bring his plans to fruition, the professor tackled him to the ground. He rolled through the grass violently, eating a mouthful of grass in the process.

Falcon stood up angrily, ready to demand an answer for the professor’s actions. However, he grew silent as he noticed the blood dripping from Kraimaster’s mouth and nose. He had six large holes in his robe, where the banshee had pierced him with its talons. The creature’s torso lay on the ground as well. Its head had landed several feet away.

“This is priceless!” yelled Draknorr. “The first serpent died saving this fool of a child and now the second serpent as well!”

Out of breath, Falcon threw himself by the dying professor. He looked down at the pale face that had tormented him for so many years. But, somehow, all the hate he had felt for the man was no longer present.

“Why did you do it?” demanded Falcon, his chest aching. “I had it in my grasp already. I had it.”

Kraimaster opened and closed his eyes slowly. “You were going to die. Had to. Banzhee can only be harmed by dark attackz.”

“You did this to save me?” asked Falcon. The hollow feeling deep in his stomach intensified.

“Farewell, Mizter Hyatt,” whispered Kraimaster. His eyes closed. The frown remained.

Falcon’s fury intensified. He craved nothing more now than to end the dark wielder, once and for all. With balled fists, he stood.

“Yes!” sneered Draknorr. “Now to take care of…” He paused. His head moved around as if he were searching for something. “Impossible, no one can escape my possession.”

As if on cue, the door burst open. A shaky Aya stood by the entrance of her home. The dark rims around her eyes were no longer there, but she looked even angrier than before. Her gaze wandered over to the deceased Kraimaster and then back to Draknorr.

“I don’t know how you escaped, girl, but you won’t live to tell the tale.”

Aya took off in a sprint. Draknorr fired balls of dark mass.

Falcon heart turned into ice. He knew he was too far away to help Aya. The attacks were too close to her. There was no way she could dodge.

To his surprise she didn’t try to dodge. Instead water engulfed her entire body as she sprinted. She grabbed the balls of mass with her aqua hands and crushed them as if they were nothing.

“Skeletal hand!”

A hand of dark bone burst from the ground. It took Aya in its grasp.

“Now die.” Draknorr cackled. “Crush her.”

Something was wrong. Falcon could see the hand squeezing, but Aya looked calm, almost bored even.

A second later, the sound of crackling bone echoed into the night.

Draknorr’s eyes intensified again as his attack burst into hundreds of pieces. Out of the debris emerged Aya, still running, and still fully encased in water.

“Lightning wall.” Red lightning crackled around Draknorr. “Let’s see your water get me through aarghhh—”

“As you wish,” said Aya.

A bubble of water surrounded the dark wielder’s armored face. His lightning dissolved as he flailed from side to side. Both his emblems glistened, ready to form an attack. Two large blocks of ice fell on his hands, crushing them to the floor. Even through the water, Falcon could hear a gargled scream.