Book 8: Chapter 77: Dead reunion
“Martel!” Eleanor came flying down the hill. An experienced officer, she had held her position on the flank, trusting in Martel to handle one danger while she carried out her own task; undoubtedly, her presence had preserved the line during the last minutes of the battle and thereby saved the lives of the soldiers fighting there. Now that the fight was over, she no longer had to be a leader and could leap down to reach her companion.
They embraced tightly, both knowing how close they had been to disaster. The staff finally fell from Martel’s grip, and he clung to her instead. Around them, the soldiers pushed on, easily hacking the disarrayed undead to pieces; in fact, they did not seem to offer any resistance.
“Hurry!” The sound of Atreus’s voice made Martel flinch as the spellbreaker appeared out of nowhere. “The lich is in flight! His will no longer drives his army – he must be seeking to escape! We must hurry!”
Martel was far from ready to do battle with an undead archmage, but Atreus was right. If Karolos was allowed to escape, they would face this threat again. “Lead the way.” He bent down and picked up his staff to follow the spellbreaker and the mageknight.
The trio of mages, the Triumvirate of Archen, ran across the battlefield. Around them, their soldiers continued the gruelling work of destroying the undead, and Martel saw that Atreus was right; no will or force animated the abominations anymore. They walked aimlessly, moved with sluggish speed, and presented little danger. With empowered speed, the wizards easily ran through the horde without risk.
Atreus seemed a bloodhound with a nose for malicious magic, or he knew the lich’s whereabouts from earlier scouting; either way, he steered without error in a specific direction, leading them across the valley towards the foothills that sloped on the northern side.
“Let me take the charge,” he called out to his companions as they ran. “I have the strongest protections against his spellcraft, and I’ve preserved my strength.”
“Be my guest,” Eleanor mumbled. Martel did not speak, fearing that if he wasted any breath, he would fall behind.
Atreus gave no further instructions; they had fought together before, and each knew how the others acted in battle, their strengths and weaknesses, and how to utilise one while protecting the other.
At least when they were all at full strength. Martel had barely any spellpower left. But the sun rose higher and higher, and he felt its warmth, the fire and energy of its light. The improvised spell, the solar beam, had proven most effective against the necromantic creature; Martel wagered it worked equally against a lich as compared to its creation. The only question was whether he could cast the spell again, and what toll it might take on him. Not that it mattered; Martel was prepared to pay any price to put an end to the threat to Archen. Although not a spellbreaker, Martel’s sense of magic was finely honed after all his studies and experiences, and he noticed the stench of the lich long before he saw the creature. It felt like slimy oil creeping over his skin, but Martel welcomed the sensation; it meant they were in time. He remembered how Karolos had fled from them, last time they did battle. Martel would not allow that again.
They slowed their run, but still kept a good pace. “No time for subtleties,” Atreus admitted. “We don’t know how long before he has made a portal. We attack at once.”
Neither answered, silence expressing their agreement. Ahead, their quarry waited.
Pulses of magic became released. The lich was casting some manner of spell or ritual. Just as Martel felt it, he saw him. Ragged and worn clothing, showing the bones through holes, a stark contrast to the elaborate coronet on his skull and the gem-tipped staff in his hand. In addition, an ordinary man was on his knees with a terrified expression, his hands bound behind him. One of the abducted miners.
Powerful glyphs glowed on the ground in a circle. Although Martel could not read them nor understand the magic he sensed, he knew its nature. A portal.
Atreus released his first spell, and it tore into the lich, who sneered and clattered his teeth. “Insolent worms!” He seized Atreus with his magic and tossed the spellbreaker aside.
So much for their battleplan. Eleanor rushed the lich, flaming sword in hand. Karolos released his soulfire spell, and it seared her with pain, forcing her to drop on her knees.
Martel did not imagine he could despise anyone or anything more than he loathed the lich who threatened their city, who had put them through this night; yet seeing the agony Karolos inflicted on Eleanor, Martel found new depths and heights of pure, undiluted hatred.
Anger and instinct took over, and Martel released the spell with which he had slain wizards before. Lightning leapt from his staff, enveloping the lich.
Karolos sneered again, despite lacking breath, but he ignored Martel’s attack. From the side, Atreus released his necromantic disruption again, and the lich seized up. For a moment, it seemed as if the fight might be won; Eleanor got on her feet, raising her flaming sword to decapitate the creature.
The lich grabbed her with his magic, as he had done Atreus, and tossed the mageknight into the spellbreaker.
Raising his palm, Martel focused. He needed his new spell. With the sun glowing, filling him with light, he knew he had the power for it.
Karolos acted faster. In one hand, his green blade of sorcerous energy appeared; the other held out bony fingers, and the captured miner floated into his grasp. With a swift motion, the lich cut his throat, spilling his blood all over the glyphs on the ground.
With a flash, the undead archmage disappeared, leaving only a dead body behind.
Without hesitation, Atreus ran forward and jumped into the circle. The light swallowed him as well. Looking at Eleanor, Martel did not wait either, knowing what it would cost them if the lich escaped again; taking a leap, Martel entered the portal.