Firebrand

Again and again, the arachnid fiend skittered around the wall, disappearing only to re-emerge and skewer one or two defenders. Cornelia unleashed every offensive spell she possessed, but it did not suffice. Padmani did the same, but if the spells of an experienced frostmage could not bring the beast down, nor could those of an apprentice.

Finally, the fiend towered over the Khivan, raising a leg to impale him. From the other side, chains of ice came to sling themselves around their enemy, arresting its movement and holding back the lethal stroke that threatened Padmani.

Staring down death, the Khivan pulled out his pistol and fired a golden bullet into the grotesque creature before him.

Its entire body shivered violently, and in its throes, it broke the chains of ice, releasing a spiked limb to impale Padmani.

Having beaten Valerius against the wall several times, the rock giant held up the mageknight, still by his feet, to inspect its victim. Opening his eyes, Valerius struck his sword into that of the giant, who roared and fell backwards, releasing the human. Falling to the ground, the captain of Archen had an ugly landing, but his protective spells kept him alive through any physical ordeal, and he got back on his feet, still holding his sword.

Looking at his terrifying foe, Valerius took a deep breath and dove forward in between the giant’s legs, stabbing at his ankle.

The trapdoor opened. Indoors, away from the sun’s light, the undead became quicker in addition to the infused will of their malicious master. Down the steps came a skeleton with fingerbones sharp as razors.

Retreating from the obelisk to the sigil room, Sparrow shouted at the others, “Into the tunnel! Hurry!”

“You first, Sparrow!”

“I’ll go last,” she replied. “Cover your retreat!” “We can fight!” Badger pulled out a knife, as did the other children. None of them had gold-edged weapons, as the need had been greater elsewhere.

“You can’t!” Sparrow hissed. “Now go!”

Behind her came the clacking sound of bone striking stone. Swallowing, the young apprentice turned to watch the undead creature. Clenching her fists, she raised a large number of rocks into the air, collected and brought to the underground room for that purpose. All at once, the stones were hurled forward to strike the skeleton in a barrage.

Ribs broke and the skull gained a hole, but the abomination was undeterred. It continued its march forward.

“Into the tunnel!” Sparrow yelled desperately, but rather than comply, the children crowded behind her.

The sound of glass breaking was followed by a burst of flames licking their way up the skeleton to cleanse the necromantic magic. With a rattle, the bones fell to the ground. Behind the pile stood Leander.

“Hey, you’re that weird old man who lives in the forest!”

“You’re welcome,” the alchemist replied. “The undead are growing stronger as the sun wanes. They sense your presence. You must retreat deeper. Into the tunnel.”

“As I was saying,” Sparrow remarked with pointed looks at her companions. She began ushering them towards the tunnel. “What of you?” she asked of Leander, as he made no motion to move.

The lich looked at the tunnel, where wards lined the walls to bar the way for any undead. “You’ll be safe in there as long as those fiends don’t come for you.” His mouth approached what could be mistaken for a smile. “If any shows up, I’ll make sure they go another way.”

With worried looks, the children led by Sparrow entered the tunnel, leaving an undead alchemist behind.

The walls of Archen were strong; even dragon’s fire could not bring them down. The gates lacked the same resilience. Subjected to Moloch’s flames, the wood burnt, the metal twisted on the hinges, and finally, the two halves of the gate fell.

As the dust settled, they revealed a lone wizard wielding a black staff standing in the now open passage. “The gate is barred. Begone.”

Seeing his defiance, the dragon roared with laughter. “Delightful! But futile.” Without gesture or word, only her will, Moloch reassembled the destroyed bridge. Another unspoken command sent her remaining undead army marching forward.

Martel waited until they crowded together on the bridge, as many as possible within reach; once the narrow space could hold no more, he unleashed his inferno. A blaze erupted to incinerate every reanimated corpse, leaving only the ash of their bones behind.

“So you wish to match fire with fire. So be it.” The great lizard stepped forward and opened her jaws again, releasing another breath of primal flame.

For the first time in years, Martel burnt. His innate resistance had never been tested like this before, and for all his mastery of the element, he could not fully deny the attack. His skin turned red, his hair became singed, and his surcoat blackened.

But he remained standing and did not flinch nor pull the slightest expression. “The gate is barred. Since you will not listen, you shall witness true fire, primordial fire from before this world began.” The last rays of the sun descending behind Martel fell on him, and it was enough. Raising his hand, fingers pointed at Moloch, the Sage of Archen released a solar beam. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel_fіre.net

Given the size of the dragon before him, Martel could not miss. The ray of pure light and power seared straight through the lizard’s head, burning a hole directly across.

With an anguished cry, the archmage lost control of her shape, and she returned to human form. Pure rage on her face, she undoubtedly prepared a devastating spell against the wizard who barred her entry, but before she could cast any, Atreus planted a gold-edged dagger between her shoulder blades.

“Another!” she screamed, turning on her heel to grab him by the collar. The spellbreaker grabbed her throat to choke her, releasing lightning through his fingertips, but she disdained his attack and threw him several hundred feet through the air.

One attacker cleared, Moloch turned back towards Martel – only to be met by another solar beam. This time, it scorched her entire head, burning away hair, skin, and flesh, leaving only a blackened skull on an otherwise human body. With an inhuman shriek, Moloch struck back with all her magical powers.

Martel felt it. It was as a cauldron of oil poured over his spirit, enveloping him. He tasted only ash in his mouth while being beset by unquenchable thirst and endless hunger. The colours of the world faded, and his body seemed devoid of warmth to him. He had been cursed.

The realisation made Martel smile. This was not a spell to slay a man or win a battle. It was the impotent rage of a petulant child, bent on revenge, as she could not have victory. This was Moloch’s final blow, and inadvertently, she had conceded defeat. She punished Martel because he had beaten her. And as he raised his hand to release the last solar spell before the day faded, she fled before him, and with her, so did her host. All across Archen, every fiend who remained took flight, their master’s will replaced by her fear. Likewise no longer guided, the undead stopped in their tracks. As twilight fell, the remaining defenders looked at each other; if not victors, then survivors.