The Elf King (60 page)

Suddenly clouds of ash
erupted around him seconds before he saw glimpses of Shadox’s sleek
form dashing through their midst firing his white magic rapidly,
keeping the demons at bay as much as he could
. Do not be afraid.
He heard the
sorcerer’s words loud and clear. But the chaos was frantic and Tane
had no time to waste on thoughts or ideas. Mustering his strong
arms to swing harder and faster, Tane fought for his
life.

White fire exploded behind
him, shaking the ground with its impact, filling the night sky with
blowing dirt and falling ash. Everything became darker, lost in the
cloud of debris. Glowing red eyes cut through the screen suddenly,
and before Tane could act, red fire was smashing into his blade.
The jarring force sent him toppling to the ground. The
Taker
lunged for him
before he could have a second to move, sharp claws stretching
forward to slice into his chest as its palms began to shoot its red
fire. In a split second then, Tane could feel the ball of helpless
rage boiling deep within him surge through his body and into his
sword, and as he screamed his defiance, he thrust forward the Flame
of Blood.

Tane watched from his back
as everything seemed to happen slowly. He could feel the energy
surging through Issilix Delsoue. He could feel it tense as the
pressure was ready to release. He saw it shine with crimson coils;
the
Taker
suspended above it, slowly descending, its magic firing. The
red bolts hit the sword, but as Tane thought it was too late to
protect himself, the fire was sent shooting back into the
Taker
. Tane saw into its
dead, burning eyes; he saw the evil flickering out at him. But then
the red light hit the
Taker
, smoldering it, bursting it
into smoking hot embers at its touch.

Tane closed his eyes as
the ash rained across him. His whole body shook nervously.
What was that?
His eyes
fixed on the sword, momentarily forgetting everything else.
That feeling! That power!
It was as Shadox had said. The sword acted on his desire, his
urging impulse. He stared at the sword’s glow as it sparked. Tane
smiled. His relief was overwhelming.

A thundering of footsteps
intruded on his revelation then and Tane scrambled to his
feet.
Takers
.
They were racing for him with no thought in mind to do anything but
turn him into shreds. The Flame of Blood glowed like a torch at his
response, collecting the red fire as it shot towards him. Tane
swung it then, not as a weapon to cut, for now he realized that it
wasn’t, but as a beam of his thoughts. And they were
dark.

Issilix Delsoue flared
instantly, shooting their red beams back to them like lasers,
destroying even those running from afar. Within a few minutes,
enough of them were thinned out so that he could see the sorcerer
fighting yards away.

“
Shadox!”

Shadox stood with his arms
extended, his fingers blazing his magic into the shifting sea of
blackness. His magic cast a white glow across his face, his hood
covering his head, his eyes as intense as his white fire. He knew
without looking what Tane had done. And what Tane still had to
undo.

“
Let’s go!” yelled Tane,
pressing closer towards the burning catapults. Shadox followed at
his side, running hard.

C
ommander Ern Dwull fought with his back to Dornawee, his
bloody sword swinging violently into the demons as the horde
attacked them. He could hear the searing sound that the elf’s magic
made, he could hear the grunting from exertion from its master, and
the deep breathing from the strenuous effort. There had been no let
down, no time to recover and relax, no time to repair the scrapes
and wounds received, and no time to hope that the end was near.
They were overrun and for all they knew and accepted, they were
alone.

“
There!”
the old elf yelled, turning his attention to Ern’s side, watching
a
Taker
swipe its claws down towards Ern’s head. Dornawee shot his
magic into it, freezing it in place for a second, long enough for
Ern to turn and strike it with his sword.

They had been fighting this
way for a while. Dorn knew his strength would not endure if he used
his magic as extensive as he had. Short dosages, just enough to
keep them alive, he thought. Ern fought valiantly at his side. His
broadsword never resting, his body never pausing to rely on his new
partner, his eyes always alert for their safety. He wondered how
long the old elf could hold on. He knew the magic was draining him.
He could hear it in his voice and see it in Dorn’s eyes. He would
not let anything happen to him. As long as there was air to
breathe, the elf could depend on him.

“
We need to fall back,” Ern
said.

Dornawee shook his head.
“There may be no one left to fall back to!”

“
We will not die here,
Dorn!”

The black swarm that
washed from the south broke apart then, and thinned out. Neither
understood why. They watched most of the
Takers
turn and run south, racing
away as if they were wolves on the hunt and fresh blood was in the
air. Still, a small circle of
Takers
remained. They wanted the
elf; his magic.

“
What’s happening?” asked
Ern, his breathing quick bursts, his face shiny with sweat. His
chain-mail vest had been torn from his chest and head, scratches
alongside of his forehead were reminders of how close he had come
to his end. “Why are they retreating?”

“
They have no reason to
flee,” shouted Dorn. “Maybe they attack the Ailia
Court!”

Fighting for their own
lives, the two stood beside each other and stole glimpses south.
“Did you see that?” Ern shouted. A white light flashed a hundred
yards away, in the direction the
Takers
had fled to. Another
followed. “Look, Dorn!”

Dorn turned his head in
time to see a crimson flare disappear within a burst of white
light. The
Takers
around them howled and scrambled away, running towards the
light flashing from the south, steadily moving closer.

“
It is coming this way,”
gasped Ern Dwull. For the moment, they were alone. Whatever was
heading towards them had gathered the attention of their enemy.
“Who do you suppose that is?”

“
Judging by their reaction,
I would say it was someone of power.”

Ern nodded. He turned to
glance quickly at the elf. His pale face was lined with sweat beads
and he looked exhausted. “Are you okay?”

He turned to Ern. “Magic
will draw your energy quickly.”

“
Do you need to rest? I
can—”

“
Later. There is a time for
everything, my friend.”

Ern turned away.
What did that mean? Of course there’s a time
for-

“
Ah!” screamed Dornawee,
falling to the ground in a blur.

Ern looked with confusion.
Dornawee lay on his stomach with something dark squirming across
his back.
Taker!
Ern quickly brought up his sword, but before he could deliver
the blow to save his friend, he too was sent flying to the ground.
Clawed hands swiped for his face and neck, but Ern was fast,
protecting himself with his sword, acting on instincts and relying
on his strength to fight off the
Taker
. He could hear Dornawee
fighting as well, through the hissing of the
Taker
smothering him. He had to
help, he had to get to the old elf.

And then he felt a
terrible sting in his right thigh. Screaming loudly, the pain was
almost enough for him to let go of his weapon. The
Taker
had sank its hands
down into his leg. Ern knew what came next. Frantically he began to
chop his sword at the
Taker’s
arms, striking it quickly, cutting into its flesh
until it jerked off him. He saw its hands begin to glow red then
and he rolled his body out of the way just as the earth where he
was laying burst apart by red flames. Ern quickly came to his feet,
the pain in his thigh throbbing immensely. He saw his blood
dripping off the fingers of his enemy. He saw the look in
the
Takers
eyes;
a look that said it wanted the rest of Ern’s blood.

Ern raised his sword in
defense then, screaming to the
Taker
to charge him, screaming his
nervous energy in anguish. The
Taker
listened, and obeyed. With red
fingers glowing, it began towards Ern. But then something happened
that Ern did not expect. The
Taker
was suddenly glowing, struck with a white light,
exploding right before him. Ern looked back to see Dornawee on his
knees, his fingers still emitting a white hue, his face holding a
look so stricken with pain that Ern almost looked away.

And as Dornawee slumped
forward, Ern saw the remainder of the
Taker
slither into his
body.

“
No!”

Ern raced for Dornawee, his
sword raised high, his pain forgotten as quickly as his feet moved
to save his friend. He understood what the elf had done. His heart
ached with a mad realization that Dorn protected him even when he
himself was being attacked. Dornawee had saved his life. As he
reached the elf, he saw Dorn’s body convulsing; he watched his eyes
roll to the back of their sockets.

“
No!”

“
Kill me,” he heard
Dornawee gasp. His voice raspy, changing.

Ern saw Dornawee’s skin
shift with unnatural movements. Somewhere lost in his body, Dorn
was fighting still. Ern had no idea what to do.

“
Dorn!”

“
Kill me, Ern! Do it! Do it
now!”

Ern shook his head. He
looked down and saw the pain in Dornawee’s eyes. They were looking
back at him, begging Ern to do what he couldn’t. Dornawee spoke
again, the same urgent message whispering in dying breaths. But Ern
couldn’t do it; he could not strike his friend. Not when there was
a chance that Dornawee’s magic could save him.
Do something, Dorn!
But as Ern
remained frozen in hesitation, he saw the transformation conclude.
Dorn’s eyes glazed over with a new look, a new mind set, a new
master. The shifting in his face stopped. The worry in his eyes
gone.

Ern Dwull jumped aside
then, as red light boiled across the eyes of his dead friend,
shooting skyward. Ern hit the ground rolling, standing quickly to
see Dorn’s body moving towards him.
It
can’t be!

But as he focused on the
unthinkable, as he struggled with the fact that he had allowed the
transformation to be complete, he lost is awareness and backpedaled
over a dead elf and went down. His sword fell out of his grasp. He
lay helpless. He watched the
Taker
close in on him slowly. He stared at Dornawee’s
face and tried hard to convince himself that it was not his friend
any longer, that nothing of Dorn was still inside it.

Kill me, Ern. Do
it!
whispered continuously in his mind.
The heavy loss of blood began to take its toll on him. His sight
began to spin, his mind dizzy. He was losing control, and he was
not sure he wanted to fight it any longer.

Then two dark figures
emerged behind the
Taker
. The one holding the crimson
sword moved in fast, his weapon glowing bright, drawing the
Taker’s
attention. Then
Ern watched everything unfold in a haze, his sight dimming at the
corners of his eyes, slowly washing inward. The crimson light
seemed to draw the life out of Dorn, he thought. Ern swore he saw
the
Taker
being
lifted out of the elf’s body and into the crimson light. But Ern
was bleeding badly now and the loss of blood was taking its toll.
Before he knew what was happening, the other figure, one looking
like a
Taker
himself, was shredding strips of cloth to wrap about his open
wound. Ern could not make out the words the other was speaking, but
he knew he was not dying. The bearer of the sword was kneeling down
next to him then, somehow appearing out of the gloom all at once.
Ern tried to fight off the dizziness, to hear and understand what
they were saying to him. But it was too late. He felt himself
drifting. It was soothing. His eyes were struggling to open and he
didn’t care anymore if they did. He was so tired. It was easy to
just relax and let go.
Dorn!
He wasn’t sure if he had said it out loud. It
didn’t matter. There was a time for everything. Now he knew
why.

“
Is he dying?” Tane asked
Shadox.

“
His wounds are deep. But
he’ll survive.” Shadox finished wrapping up Ern’s thigh and stood.
“He’ll be fine, Tane. Let him rest. Come, we’ve only just
begun.”

Tane turned and raced away,
feeling the power surge through the Flame of Blood.