FSE

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Chapter 5

Richard

I was back in the sea of darkness, the viscous liquid hugging my body. Orbs of light swam around me, its glow feeding warmth to my body. My hand waded through the liquid with effort until my finger touched an orb. A current of electricity ran through my arm, images of a wolf and a bull flashing before my eyes, a deep sorrow settling in my heart. My hand drew back, tingling and prickling running through my arm. The other orbs glowed brighter, small figures dancing on their surface. I turned my eyes away, the light hurting my eyes. When I opened them again, the orbs were gone but instead of all consuming black, there was a pale glow replacing it all. Far away from me there was a lone dot of pure white. I extended my arm towards it, the orb calling to me like a siren as my world was painted white.

When color rushed back into my vision, a large room met my eyes. Bookcases filled with dusty books surrounded me while small dots of golden light illuminated the room. An oak table stretched before me, its wooden surface covered by papers written in a tight script. The soft comfort of the chair invited me to lean back, eliciting a groan from the old worn wood. A polite cough brought my attention to the side, where a young salamander with skin of a deep crimson stared at me with steely blue eyes.

“What was Archmage Garcia's greatest accomplishment during the Boves-Drenar war?" asked the young salamander sitting next to me, her tone coated with authority and confidence.

I starred at the yellowed pages spread before me with frustration, the aged brown ink blurring before my eyes. My head pounded with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion, the musty air of the library feeding my aggravation.

“I don't know," I shot back, anger clinging to my tone, “maybe one thousand ways to kill future readers of boredom."

A giggle escaped the bull sitting across me, his own pile of tomes neatly arranged over the wooden table. Amused golden eyes met mine, his hand growing still over his parchment. The crimson salamander glared at the bovine, her hands holding a book over her head in warning.

“Don't you dare laugh, we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. We could have done this weeks ago but no, our royal foolishness and his thick-headed yes-boy had to take part in that tournament. And they couldn't attend their lessons because they just had to practice every waking hour or they would be utterly destroyed when the big boys laughed at them," she said with an exasperated tone, her robes fluttering like a furious river with each poignant swing of her arms before the book was slammed on the table.

“Come on Alena, it was only a couple of weeks. And you got to admit you had fun at the tournament too. Don't think I didn't see you f—"

“Finish that sentence Waden and I'll have every single squirrel in the kingdom living in your armor."

Waken cleared his throat, his face morphing into the emotionless mask he used in court, he muttered a single “your grace" before his hand went back to scribbling on the rough surface.

“Traitor," I muttered before the salamander's unforgiving gaze fell back on me.

“I'd say that's the smartest thing he has done this month."

“You only say that because he agreed with you."

Her lips twisted into a thin smile, her back straightening with pride as she said, “And thus he has proved to be smarter than a certain prince I know. Now, answer the question."

“Oh come on Alena. You brought us here before the sun had come up. I can't remember what I had for breakfast, let alone what some ancient fox did centuries ago."

“First, Archmage Garcia was a bat, not a fox. Second, you only have yourself to blame. And third, what he did is the only reason this country is still standing."

“Alright, I'll bite, what did he accomplish?" I grumbled, pushing the pile of papers towards the salamander.

“He was the first mage to successfully reverse a curse. Particularly, he codified the process after he reversed Queen Havena's curse. Queen Havena then appointed him as her Archmage and together they ended the war in a month."

“Okay, so, he played a good part in our history, saved a queen. Were all these books really necessary?"

The salamander hands crashed on the table, the old wood groaning against the abuse. Her dark blue eyes shone with fury as her high pitched voice strained to remain even.

“I don't think you truly understand how big that is. No one had ever reversed a curse before, let alone think of a process to do it. His first foray was not only a great success but it opened a whole new field of study in magic. There are only a handful of mages who ever did something like that, a handful."

“And what did they do with the cursed then? Lock them up in a tower to spare the world their curse?"

The salamander's eyes evaded mine, her body deflating as she leaned back into her chair. The silence stretched for a few seconds, her gaze never leaving her hands.

“You won't like the answer," she whispered, her words barely reaching my ears.

“Alena. Alena, what did they do to cursed people back then?" I asked with urgency, a heavy weight settling on my stomach.

“Before Archmage Garcia, any person that was confirmed to have a curse was sacrificed on the Ebony throne. Their lives in exchange of prosperity for the country."

“But father said the throne hasn't been used for—“

“He may be right, but people still died. Hundreds, maybe thousands. All for the sake of the Ebony throne."

My mouth went dry, my muscles grew stiff and an acidic burn moved through my belly. Silence hung upon the table, not even the sound of Waken's pen reaching my ears.

“Wasn't there any other way?"

“Most curses can't be undone and the throne always takes its due."

“Then, how did he reverse the queen's curse?"

“He discovered the guiding law of curses: 'Curse you give, curse you take, by ancient law such is your fate.' After he did, well, everyone knows about the Black Days."

---

Three weeks passed without a single chance of escape. Between the bouts of weakness, which grew in strength and duration with each passing day, and the knight's ever watchful eyes any attempt at escape was over before it had even begun. The king's presence was another level of problem whatsoever, it couldn't be avoided like Waken or withstood in silence like the bouts. No, it always weighted heavy on my mind, promising a swift end to my resistance the moment I faltered. Still, I bade my time, confident a chance would appear, not matter how slim, and trusting my skills could get me to safety. In this well of darkness, strangely my conversations with the bull became my life line; words and stories, my tools of trade. They helped to ground me, reminding me of what was important, what they had stolen from me: my life, my family. Little by little, I gathered the bits and pieces of information we exchanged, arranging them until I had a clear picture of my current predicament. I took note of the bull's schedule, his behavior and, above all, his weaknesses. A plan followed soon enough, risky and reckless, but possible.

On the night of the twenty third day since my arrival at the room, I set my plan into motion. A little bit of acting was all it took to bring the bull's guard down. A few faked accidents and a couple of dry coughs and his gentle arms surrounded me with their warmth; a single phrase from me more than enough to get him to believe it was another episode of my strange disease. Hollow assurances uttered with a tired voice lulled him into sleep as the moonlight seeped into the room. The bovine knight didn't move as my hands sneaked to his side. He didn't stir when I unclasped the brooch from his belt. And a single snort was all that came from Waken when I slipped out of his grasp. The bovine firm in the hold of the realm of dreams. With the brooch in my hand, I donned the thick robe that was folded at the edge of the bed and shooting the knight one last nervous glance, I made my way to the far end of the room. Like clockwork, the wooden door opened without a sound; A shiver ran down my back as I glanced at the darkened hallway, my mind filled with the thoughts of traps and curses but I knew time wasn't my friend tonight. I took a deep breath, my fists clenched at my side while I glared at the darkness, then I ran out of the room.

The sound of my steps echoed in the empty hallways, sounding like drums to my ears. The vague directions I had gathered from Waken were all but useless in the thick blackness hanging upon every form. I let the protests of the king guide my path, always taking the path that brought the hardest assault on my mental wall. On and on I went, my legs protesting against the extended abuse I was subjecting them to but I bit my lips and bore it, cursing my luck between pants. Soon, all the hallways blended together into one. One intimidating statue looked like the one I had just passed, one awkward painting had changed places three times since my last turn, the moon had greeted me six times from the same window and I was almost certain I had stopped to rest at least 5 times in the same corner. And yet, there was no exit in sight. Every window I found teased me with an image of the world too high to consider a jump, every door refused to budge from its place and if there were any stairs in this accursed place, they had all agreed to hide from me. It didn't take long before desperation gave way to exhaustion. My legs were screaming at me, the muscles struggling to hold me up. My lungs burned with a need for air while my vision was getting blurry. I rested my back against a pillar, taking deep greedy breaths while my whole body trembled.

Unlike my body, my mind kept going, calculating my chances of escape. There was no way to know how much time had passed, the silver orb that was the moon stood in the sky like a monolith, unmoving and eternal. Its selenic glow infused the endless hallways with an eerie ambiance, like a promise of trouble to come. It wouldn't be long before Waken would find me gone and if I was certain of one thing, it was that the bovine would move heaven and earth until he caught me. Already, my mind could picture the bull stampeding down the hallways in my search, his eyes showing a fire that sparked a flurry of feelings in my chest. I shook those thoughts out of my head and gathered my breath. The reminder of danger was enough to get my body moving once more, leaning on the wall for support.

I came to a crossroad a couple of minutes later, the road forking into a pair of hallways with identical darkness, a thick sense of dread clung to both of them and sent shivers down my spine. No matter how much I forced my eyes, the blackness kept the clues for my escape well hidden. There would be no help from the presence either; the king had stopped his protests some time ago. A cold silence reigning between the two, any false pretense banished from our shared mindscape. A deep bellow echoed in the halls, freezing my blood in my veins. I cursed loudly, no longer caring whether someone heard me, before I ran down the left path. I stumbled down the hallway, turning at every other corner without a clear thought in my mind. There was no more time for thoughts, no more time for clever plans or sweet words. There was only the Hunt.

A spray of red filled my vision moments before I felt a sharp pain come from my shoulder. A wave of dizziness filled my body, before I collapsed into a heap on the floor, limbs tangled in a mess. My hands shot out to my shoulder, dread setting on my stomach when my fingers touched a shaft of metal. My mind went blank, fear freezing me into place as I heard a click come from behind me. The King didn't lose any time, breaking through my weakened barrier and taking control of my body. Renewed vigor spread to my body, the protest of my muscles grew silent as the King's influence was solidified. My body lurched forward with a jump, bringing me behind a pillar moments before another bolt pierced the space I had been into. With gritted teeth, the king sped down the hallway, weaving from pillar to pillar as more bolts coursed through the air. The whistling of bolts as they passed too close to comfort the only sign that we were still being chased. My mind came out of its stupor and joined the King's in ensuring our survival. A bolt sunk into the wall next to us, the click of a crossbow being reloaded echoed in the dark hallway. My heart beat furiously in my chest, my breaths coming in heavy pants while I pressed my back against the column. A red blur on the side of my vision made me dart from my hiding place, the swoosh of a bolt flying over my head sent a shiver down my spine. I scampered from cover to cover, following the king's directions. Shouts echoed down the corridors while we ran for our lives.

“This way!" our attacker shouted, his high pitched nasal voice breaking the silence.

“Death to the Usurper!" came a chorus from behind him, those voiced soon echoed by a much dimmer group.

“Defend the King!" Waken declared before a cacophony of shouts and screams came from the darkness.

“For the Light!" our pursuer shouted behind us, bolts flying through the air and grazing my skin. My muscles burned with exertion as the shouts drew closer and closer with every second. I heard the low growl coming from our pursuer, his shots becoming more frantic and unpredictable, a dangerous combination. I dove into one of the hallways and felt a spike of pain come from my leg, I turned my head and saw the lustrous bolt sticking out of my thigh. I gritted my teeth and pulled myself to my feet, dragging my left leg as I made my way behind another column. Between the pain and my lack of breath, I knew we couldn't keep up the chase, even now the energy the king had given to our body was growing dimmer, a strong coldness was spreading through our limbs and blood was soaking our clothes.

“Damn it, damn it all." I cursed in my mind, our hands moving towards the bolt on my leg.

“Don't take it out, you'll bleed out." chided the king, his voice full of authority even in this situation.

“Can't you do something about this? How about you fry them or send them packing? I know you can do magic" I glanced over the column, the vague shape of our pursuer was near the entrance of the hallway, crossbow in his hands.

“I already am. You're still breathing," the king replied without missing a beat, his presence spreading throughout our body without taking control, embracing me like a warm blanket. “Those bolts were poisoned and it's taking all of my focus to keep you from fainting."

“Shit" I murmured under my breath, looking at the bolt sticking out of my leg. “Any other good news?"

“If we buy enough time, someone should come to help us."

“How can you be so sure? For all I know they could be already dead or worse."

“I believe in them," the king's answer was full of conviction and finality, giving me no quarters to argue, “Now, run."

I huffed in annoyance at the order but followed it either way. I ran down the hallways as fast as I could, my leg complaining with every step. I kept close to the shadows, hoping they would let me escape from my pursuer.

“Just die already!" shouted our pursuer, his voice grating and filled with hated. A bolt sunk into the wall close to my head, the brush with death was enough to fill my legs with renewed strength and run away from the assassin. I had barely taken a few steps away from our pursuer when I felt something dig into my other leg, the muscle tensed and sent me crashing down. My arms broke the fall, the impact forcing a grunt out of my body. The king cursed in our mind, his warm energy focusing around the new wound, a quick look behind me showed me the bloody bolt that had thrown me down and the cruel smile of my pursuer.

Dread set upon my heart as the assassin reloaded his crossbow, the king screamed in our shared mindscape but I was frozen in place, the whole situation turning my body into lead. Time slowed down, the rise of the crossbow marking the seconds I had left to live. I bit my lip until the ferrous taste of blood filled my mouth. We are going to die. The glint of metal under the moonlight whispered death as the bolt prepared to sail across the air.

A flash of blue filled my vision, a pungent metallic smell entered my nose and a loud roar shook my body. The bolt never made it to me, instead the assassin and his crossbow hit the ground, their charred forms illuminated by the moon's silver glow. The scent of burned meat reached my nose, my throat closed; my stomach burned with acid, threatening to throw up its contents while the world spun around me. A figure soon appeared at my side, their muzzle moving into strange sounds that didn't quite make sense. Scaly hands took hold of my shoulders and gently moved me until I was laying against a column near a window. With the added light of the moon, the brass scales shone with mystical light, their hands moved with determination, grabbing my legs and plucking out the bolts in one pull. She muttered something under her breath, the words smooth as silk. Golden light radiated from her hands, joining the king's efforts, and the wounds closed before my eyes. I gulped at the display of magic in front of my eyes before tears started running down my face, my mind finally processing the whole situation. A few seconds of silence passed with the brass scaled dragon tending to my wounds while the king whispered soothing words in my mind, reminding me that she was a close friend and an ally to him.

“Your grace, I'm glad I made it on time," she said, giving me a quick bow. She turned me around and plucked the last bolt from my shoulder, “Don't worry, we won't let anything happen to you."

“We?" I asked after a couple of seconds, still catching up to all the events of the night. “Who's we?"

“Why? Your royal council. Your archmage, your knight and me, your councilor," she said with obvious pride, her tail hitting the ground with a soft thud, “Old Dax is helping Waken keep back the would be assassins, they were the ones who sent me here."

She offered me one clawed hand and pulled me to my feet with surprising strength, steadying me when I almost fell over. My head swam with nausea, the sudden change in height making my stomach twist in knots. I swallowed loudly as I gathered my thoughts, the king's own ideas resounding in the back of my mind. A few moments later, a question left my mouth

“Who were they?" The worried frown that came to the dragon's face was more than enough to convey the gravity of the situation.

“The Circle of Light, your grace. They came back for your head."

Waken

A pained huff came from the dog in front of me, his muzzle coughing blood over me before he fell to the ground. His armor was bent inwards at his side, the rough shape of my mace clear on the metal. I had little time to watch my foe for any surprise attacks when a broad shouldered lion threw himself at me, his sword raised high in the air. My own blade met with his a few times, sparks flying from the point of impact. The lion roared in frustration and our blades clashed once more, the steel groaning as he put his weight behind the blade. I huffed in annoyance, my muscles already burning with exertion. I feinted a push and when the feline put more weight on his blade, I stepped to the side. My mace swung in an arc undeterred and smashing his face. The lion fell to the ground next, joining the pile of bodies in front of me. My breath came in pants, my body cooking inside my armor after many minutes of battle while my arms began to complain about the weight of my weapons. I bellowed a challenge, the sound both guttural and savage, stopping the next assassin on his tracks, his wiry arms clutched his club to his body, eyes wide with fear. I let out a snort at the sight and signaled for a change of lines. The knights behind me stepped forward at once, the clashing of steel on steel exchanged for a roar of defiance, pushing back the surprised assailants.

My eyes scanned the scene, the line of knights kept the assassins at one end of the foyer, their larger numbers served them little when only a few of them could fight against my knights, giving us the edge for the time being. Even so, I knew we couldn't keep this up forever; a quick look to the side revealed me more knights had been transported to the impromptu first aid section at the corner. A few healers were fussing over their wounds with golden light but I knew they wouldn't be up any time soon. I took a few deep breaths and focused on my knights, worry was creasing the face of the squadron that had fallen back with me while those at the front were already showing signs of exhaustion; much faster than I'd have liked. Strong huffs left my nose, my anger flaring once more. The scent of blood hung thick in the air while my sweat made my fur clung to my skin.

My fur stood on end as a bolt of lighting flashed above my head, hitting the enemy line with a sizzle followed by the scream of the assassins as they fell. A shy smile appeared on my face as I turned back to see the source of the attack, the elderly mage clutched his staff wearily but still managed to give me a confident nod. I gave him a nod of my own and returned my eyes to the front-lines, yet the same could not be said about my mind. At any other time, having Dax fighting by my side would have been enough to banish all fears, And yet, my mind couldn't focus completely in the battle. An ice cold prickling invaded my neck, a sign that the king's life was in danger. I gripped my weapon harder, burying the need to rush in his aid beneath my duty as his commander.

“Evanise will keep him safe, he needs you here," I mumbled to myself, my body tensing with nervous energy, “He needs you to focus, to keep this trash of his back, to keep him safe. Focus, Waken, focus."

The battle raged on for a few more minutes, the assassins fought with zeal and desperation, but even that wasn't enough. The tide had turned and they were being pushed back towards the door when a blood curling roar shook the room. Shivers ran down my spine moments before screams and whines came from behind the enemy line. A giant golden bear appeared through the door way, his steel armor covered in gore and a sadistic glint in his eyes. He carried an oversized warhammer over his shoulder, most of its surface painted a deep crimson. Hate-filled red eyes met my own, a cruel grin twisting his face. I gritted my teeth as I recognized the newcomer, anger flaring in my heart. Another roar came from the titanic bear, this time followed by the sound of crushing bones as he swung his hammer in a wide arc. The line collapsed as the bodies of assassins and knights were thrown back from the impact. The battle stopped for a few seconds, whimpers and whispers replacing the clash of weapons; the blood drenched bear's grin widened further as he lifted his hammer once more, fresh blood dripping from its side. The battlefield set in motion once more, with knights and assassins jumping back to avoid the wild swings of the bear, those who were too slow met their gruesome end at the bear's hands.

I dropped my sword, the metal clinging against the stone floor, and my hand grasped the shoulder of one of my knights in a vice grip. I turned the gorilla around with ease, the thick man stumbling in his steps as I glared at him.

“Your shield, now!" I ordered him, bringing him out of the haze of fear. The gorilla stared at me for a second before he dropped his mace and his hand set into a flurry of motions. Soon, my left arm sported his heavy shield while my other hand gripped my mace tightly. I lifted my weapon high, my anger focused on the whirlwind of death in front of me, and shouted at the top of my voice: “Gorrik, you bastard! Face me!"

The bear laughed mockingly, driving his warhammer into the ground. He took off his helmet, baring his scarred face for all to see.

“It's good to see you're still alive cow, you still owe me for his scar," poison dripped from his words, his face contorting with pure hate, “This time, I'll flay your king alive before you and then force you to eat his remains. Maybe I'll make a nice rug out of you, use you to wipe my feet when I come home."

“You won't lay a hand on the king ever again." Traslucent green walls rose on each side of me, expanding until they reached the other side of the room, another wall rose over the entryway, blocking any chance of retreat. I thanked the archmage under my breath as I widened my stance and lifted my shield, my vision focused only on the damned bear in front of me. “No more tricks, no more escapes. Tonight, you will die."

The bear growled with rage, his thick arms plunging the hammer from the ground with a strong pull. A deep scarlet red consumed his eyes, a nauseating stench coming from the bear. The titanic bear launched at me, his hammer held high and a roar leaving his throat.

“COW!"

“GORRIK!" I roared back, preparing to meet his charge head on.

Time slowed down, my world reducing to the battle at hand. My eyes took into every detail of his movement, my body filling with the strength reserved for the first of His Knights. His weapon swung to the air, death clinging to its end while I raised my shield in defiance, unwilling to give in even one step. And then, they clashed.