A Wizard's Tears (19 page)

Lorkayn, hand in hand with the priestess, walked towards the portal, but the Ice Lord stopped them short, appearing in front of them, using his powers to teleport himself before the seething mass of energy.

Lorkayn's eyes narrowed in thought. So, this blue skinned being held great power. To be able to teleport, to transmute one's molecules into a transportable form and then to realign them, was a long and powerful spell on his world. Facing this one could prove problematic, especially as his powers were dwindled.

The Ice Lord could not allow them to enter the portal. The resultant wave of energy as they joined with another plane of existence would shatter the entire city, and lay waste to the land of Elrohen for miles around. Vo'Loth's eyes, too, narrowed slightly, his black opaque pools of midnight focussing on the sorcerer before him. He did not know if he could stop this being, but he knew he must try.

He gathered his power to him, drawing on the land for sustenance. He must be at full peak, to take on this sorcerer. His magick came from the land, and he could feel the pain of it touching his feet. There was a huge amount of magickal disturbance, just before the portal, and Vo'Loth could feel it reverberating and growing.

Vergail looked at Lorkayn, a frown playing on her features. Why had they stopped? Her mind, no longer her own, could not understand the danger ahead of her. The portal, a portion of her own power, intoxicated with the passion and energies from Lorkayn, called to her. She had to enter it, to savour the sensual feel of it! Why had they stopped?

Anger getting the better of him, so close to his goal but thwarted by a blue skinned humanoid, Lorkayn lunged forward, his hands burning fires of dark energies. He grabbed hold of the Ice Lord, by the neck, and sent his burning, sizzling sorcery out in waves.

The attack, so rushed, was clumsy at best. With speed and dexterity, Vo'Loth grabbed Lorkayn's hands around his neck, and the connection sent a flood of the land's pain jolting through the sorcerer's body.

Vergail looked on in anger and fear as her beloved toppled in pain to the ground. She had never seen Lorkayn lose in a battle, and so quickly. Her rage blossomed within her as she turned to look at the Ice Lord. A buzzing in her mind warned her that she knew who this being was, and to show respect, but she cast the thought away. She would die to protect her love. She would do all she could to stop this creature.

Lorkayn, however, was not beaten yet. Still conscious, the sorcerer regarded his wounds as a lesson learned. He should not have blindly attacked the blue skinned one in anger. He must be methodical, cunning. The sight of the portal had clouded his judgment and delighted his senses. He still felt the unrivalled ecstasy from the union with Vergail’s soul, and it lingered beautifully in every fibre of his being.

Vo’Loth, like a pouncing cat, struck home his advantage. He did not wait for Lorkayn or Vergail to strike again. In a flurry of movement, the Ice Lord struck Lorkayn in the head with his foot, again the touch sending a wave of the land’s pain into the sorcerer.

Lorkayn grabbed hold of the Ice Lord’s leg, enduring the agony. His face contorted as he felt the land beating at him, like a force of a thousand boulders landing on him. Long ago, he had learned to disconnect pain, to focus his mind in his magick. He did this now, drawing his thoughts inward, into the protective shell that knew no pain.

Vergail, with a yell, lashed out, attempting to strike Vo’Loth in the face with flames conjured in her hand, a remnant of the sorcerer’s union with her. The Ice Lord deflected the strike, sending a wave of cold air at her hand, freezing the fireball and sending it crashing to the floor in bits.

Still the sorcerer clung to his leg. His face calmed, to Vo’Loth’s disbelief. He was sending the full brunt of the land’s pain, a force that would have crushed any mind into darkness. Yet Lorkayn hung on fiercely; moreover, his body stopped convulsing in pain. For the first time, the Ice Lord knew fear.

Keldoran led the others through the guild towards the battle. He had been shown the way by the Ice Lord, but then, he had no real need for his knowledge: the sound of the battle carried all the way to them. Harsh screams of pain, the boom of magick, all poured out from the walls of the guild, and grew with intensity as they got closer.

The sight that welcomed them when they arrived at the chamber shocked and appalled them. Lying on the floor were many bodies, and the ground was awash with blood. The smell of burning flesh assaulted their senses, and Keldoran had to struggle not to retch. The sounds of pain, of agony, alerted them to movement on the ground, and they could see mages, birdmen and lizard men alike writhing from mortal wounds. What should have been an awe-inspiring moment, to witness the ancient race of birdmen from Isoch for the first time, turned to graphic horror.

Yvanna whimpered, and Corg brought her to him, cuddling her in an attempt to reassure. His gaze followed Keldoran's, to the great shimmering portal of power in the dark temple, and the three figures before it.

“Strike the sorcerer!”
came the voice of the Ice Lord in Keldoran’s mind as loudly as if Vo’Loth had stood next to him and spoke. “
Destroy the portal. It must not endure – the land feels its presence and slowly decays.”

Keldoran reached out with his power, the crystal staff in his hand flaring a bright blue. He could sense the land’s anguish, and could almost see the ground rotting away around the portal, as if it was a great fire burning bits of old wood. The Ice Lord spoke truly. Unchecked, the infection would spread through Elrohen for miles around, destroying the very essence of life that lived in the world’s soil and stone.

With a quick glance to see if Yvanna and Corg were ok, Keldoran raised the crystal staff aloft, bathing the room in a cyan glow. His mind and his power fixated upon Lorkayn. With the sorcerer distracted on Vo’Loth, this was the ideal time to strike. Slowly, gently, Keldoran urged the power within the staff, within
him
, to escape and travel to the sorcerer, to knock him down in a fiery concoction of ice magick.

It was Vergail that intercepted Keldoran’s attack. Seeming, instinctively, to know of danger, the priestess turned and covered Lorkayn’s form from sight. The brunt of Keldoran’s magick struck the priestess in a circular beam of scorching blue. He watched as Vergail screamed, but she stood her ground, hiding Lorkayn, stopping the blows from hitting him.

Lorkayn sent his last vestige of power outward, through his contact with Vo’Loth, whom he still clung to, burning the Ice Lord with dark energies. In the same instant, his magick spent, he grabbed hold of the priestess and threw her forcibly at the pulsating portal before him.

The portal bloated outward horribly, engulfing the priestess, who disappeared inside the thing, a scream issuing from her lips. An explosion rippled through the surface of the portal, and latched onto the ice magick from Keldoran’s staff, which had still been intricately linked to Vergail. Shooting along the blue magick back to the crystal staff, the backlash of white energy struck Keldoran, who, with a look of pure amazement and revulsion, vanished without a trace.

Yvanna screamed.
Vo’Loth, gasping as he felt his skin smouldering, looked up at Lorkayn. The sorcerer turned and leered at him, a cold, calculating vision of death personified. For several seconds their gazes locked, their minds balanced in combat, and then the sorcerer was gone, diving into the portal of his creation.
An explosion ruptured the shimmering portal, and a hot white light seared through the crack in the thing, expanding and filling the chamber in its intense, painful brilliance. Corg covered Yvanna’s eyes and shut his own, praying to Untaba to survive. He could hear screams and torment of the other beings in the room, and then suddenly there was silence.
Corg opened his eyes. All the lizard men in the room, save for one, the original one, had exploded into bits of flesh and bone, which scattered throughout the chamber. The remaining birdmen and mages, including Suralubus, who was struggling to rise from the sickening ground, blinked and stared at each other in bewilderment. The portal’s colours spun in mesmerising waves, a bright white light in the cold chamber. It appeared to be shaking, violently, and as they watched, it was gradually getting worse.
Vo’Loth clambered to his feet, the pain of the land shooting through him in a cacophony of noise. He could feel the earth, so alive, screaming through him, as if it had a million tiny voices crying out in hurt. The portal was becoming unstable, as matter from another world had passed through its alien surface, and, as he had predicted, it would soon explode, certainly with enough force to take out the chamber and all of them with it.
Gathering all his strength and power to him, Vo’Loth sent forth his ice magick: blue, coruscating lines of cold, weaving them to and fro before him, conjuring a ball of blue flame. He encompassed the shuddering portal with the flame, causing steam to rise from the contact. Slowly, but inexorably, the air around the portal started to freeze. It shook, almost in anguish at its coming destruction, one final time, before the air had iced over completely, blocking in the impending explosion as the portal tore itself apart. Vo’Loth watched as the portal belched for the last time, and all in the chamber heard its explosion. The resultant force shattered Vo’Loth’s ball of ice, sending glimmering icicles ripping across the chamber.
Yet the Ice Lord’s barrier had contained the explosion, leaving only a small crater in the stone floor underneath where the portal had originally appeared. Vo’Loth detected the land’s torment at the chunk of earth gone forever, but also sensed the infection ebbing away. There was no longer anything alien on the surface of the world of Elrohen. The land would recover.
So, it is done.
The Ice Lord nodded to himself in satisfaction. All the prophecies had come true. Keldoran had been sent away, as predicted, to save Elrohen from destruction. Ever since his birth, everything had built up in his life to this moment, to him leaving the world on his spiritual journey. He was a protector of Elrohen, a land mage, not of the Ice Lord race, but something completely different, something only seen once in generations. Vo’Loth knew the land was saving itself. It knew when danger was near. It always created these land mages in time, to thwart whatever evil was coming its way. So it had been for millennia.
Suralubus, injured badly, struggled to stand. He had awoken from unconsciousness, amazed to be alive, and then equally bewildered at what his eyes told him. He had many questions to ask, on this day. He looked over at the stoic Ice Lord, who turned and looked back, as if expecting the mage to speak. A mind entered his, the voice of Vo’Loth, calming and soothing in its mellifluous tones. From the look of the birdmen, and of Corg and Yvanna, it appeared everyone could hear the Ice Lord’s voice.
“The prophecy is fulfilled. Keldoran has been chosen to end the threat to Elrohen from the alien sorcerer. He is a land mage, and all land mages have a quest, a purpose to their life. Keldoran had to enter the portal, and now I see his mission clearly. He has been sent by Elrohen to kill the sorcerer, so he will never again return. Then, when his quest has been satisfied, Keldoran will die, his purpose ended. It is the way of things. Keldoran has been honed, made to suffer, to endure, to make him the man he now is. He started this journey as a young boy, with youthful dreams of becoming a mage. He has transformed into a hardened warrior for the world. Everything, everyone here, everyone who has died and all who have bled have done so to get Keldoran to this point in time.
The land thanks him. Even now, I sense its joy at the end of the sorcerer’s presence. Elrohen knows Keldoran will succeed, for it has foresight. We should all pray for him.
One thing has disturbed me, however, and it has nothing to do with Keldoran. I speak of the priestess and her journey to the other side. This was a contingency I had not calculated upon. She has defended the sorcerer, and abandoned the faith of Untaba. She is an enigma, an outcast. I can only suspect that she has been sent to the other side for a reason, for life is fated, and all that comes to pass happens for a reason.
I will say no more of the carnage that has happened on this day. It has been a black day, a harsh day, but also a day of great beauty, of the land protecting itself. My task here is complete, and I shall return to Isoch, with my brave birdmen, and will no longer be seen by human eyes.
For the rest of you, now is the time to rebuild, to bury the dead with honour, and to survive. It is the way of Elrohen. It is the way of Untaba. Those of you who have lived through this do so for a reason, and that reason will become clear to you in time. It is a thought that you should take to heart. It will give you comfort in the dark, when all other hope is lost.
The Slardinian that remains alive among us also does so for a reason. To challenge the land’s decision in this matter would be unwise. I put him into your care, Suralubus, high mage of Malana. Do not kill or torture him. Simply let him exist, and his time will come.
We may yet see Keldoran, before his end, and indeed, the priestess, but these things are clouded to me. The land chooses to tell only what it needs to tell. I bid you all farewell.”
Yvanna wept openly. She had heard every word the Ice Lord had said to them all, but only one thing stuck in her mind. Only one thing stunned her, troubled her, and gave her this grief.
Keldoran was going to die. It was just a question of when.

Run, girl, run. Or the darkness will engulf you. Stride after stride, enlarging the distance between you and the enemy. Good! Keep running, girl. Fight the mounting panic and fear. Think of nothing else but the sound of your feet pounding fiercely against the ground, faster, faster, faster.

A rumble alerts you, like the peal of thunder. Is it merely your imagination? No, there it is again, louder this time. What evil does this portend?

Your heart beats faster, faster. It drums in your ears. Thump, thump. The fear pricks your throat, sending your nerves tingling in hopeless anxiety. You gasp for the air around you frantically. The air seems thick and stifling. Your lungs heave with the pressure.