Index:
Episode 1 - The League of Iron assembles
Episode 3 - Legacy of the Veil Breakers
Episode 7 - Home is where the hearth is
Episode 8 - Last of the Old Ones
Episode 12 - Mistress of Flesh
Episode 15 - March of the parasites
Episode 16 - Shadows in the Fog
Episode 18 - Kingdom of hunger
Episode 22 - A mirror sanguine
Wills.
Few mortals could plainly see all magicks that sorcerer and hag manifested into this plane. Indeed, the flame, the lightning, and the manipulated matter were not that hard to spot, especially when these rent thine flesh with harrowing efficiency. However, when the wielders of the arcane wrapped their wills around blood boiling curse or summoned spell with a mind of its own, token few could peak through the barriers of altered reality.
Some lurked, a sliver of space concealing their existence, until the purpose which their mistress had incanted them into reality for was within their magickal grasp. Misshapen blades, spears, or arrows forged from sorcerous wills stroke without mercy and with invisible precision. The floors were scarred, the walls clawed, and the ceilings bashed; long scars, molten holes, or hissing acid biting hard into the already crumbling Tower.
Alabaster skin cut and tattooed head bruised, the Red Hag, nevertheless, still stood tall and glorious was her spellcraft. Elaborate but no longer augmenting her comely shapes, her charred and torn brassiere appeared to have taken more than one hit, many of the magickall amulets that once covered it, melted or shattered. The Hag may have evaded more than a deathly blow, yet that came not without a cost; to protect herself from axe and spear, she'd used her Flesh Stave.
Teeth gnashing, the olden witch threw one hateful gaze after another at Elven priest and Arkan kin maiden, as she counted the chips, cuts, and dents on her imposing stave. However, pure hatred, even that of an empowered by stolen magicks witch could easily kill those of great will, not. Furious, she slammed the end of her stave into the floor, cracking yet another stone with the release of a deathly curse.
Yet, as soon as she conjured that murderous spell and aimed it at the Sorceress, the Elf intervened. Leaping before his companion and without fear, he suffered through the pain with a smirk on his chiseled face, but did not crumble before her magick. To her ever-growing dismay, aglow with a whitish light, his sturdy conical helmet rebuked the death-delivering part of the Hag's curse. Whoever forged it, they made sure that his glow-steel helm offered adequate protection against witchcraft.
However mighty this enchantments was, she knew that it could not be forever.
Witch's Spittle flew at him, transmogrifying into flaming acid mid-flight, then, unconjured back to harmless fluid by the Sorceress, splattered the Elf's scarred by bone-forged arms armor. The Hag bested many a warrior in her day and she realized that these Four, they came prepared not just with arms and armor, but knowledge.
If she did not outwit them, they could be her doom.
For as soon as she cast a spell, conjured a murderous magick, or imagined a curse, the stalwart Arkan kin dispelled or the mighty Elf, suffered it. These two she needed to split before using her trump card, the witch thought. Enraged, once more the Hag attempted to worm her will inside Elven head, hissing an order most insidious:
“Swing the axe, Priest, at once you must cleave thy sorcerous friend in two!”
“I am my companions keeper! For as long as I draw breath, your vile kin shan't defile their minds!” - Roared back at her the Sorceress from within the Elven mind, and with such defiance, that the Hag bled from her ears.
Indeed, the Elf did swing his long-shafted axe, yet not at the Sorceress.
With the utmost of effort, the Hag dashed aside from his sweeping strike. The Priest, however, changed his grip mid swing and managed to once again chip at her Flesh Stave. As she blocked and deflected the magickal attacks of her sorcerous opponent, forcing herself to dance across the ruined Tower floor, the Red Hag allowed herself a smirk; their guards had finally arrived!
Her vile grin did not vanish, even though the Bone Raiders fell one after the other. This Dwarf did what he aimed to do, yet in doing his duty, the Ranger was so close to the Veil, that she could feel his soul yearning for ascension. This was when the Sorceress, scared for her companion's life, dashed to offer aid and the Red Hag finally stopped running.
“To heal and to bar my will from raping thy friends, both you shan't achieve, frail Arkan maiden.”
Without saying a word, the Sorceress knelt beside the Ranger and, instead of using precious magickal energy and concentration, unpacked a healer's kit with movements both precise and swift. Needle and treads of fine craft she'd stitch his gory wounds with and then, bandage them with cloth of pure white, soaked in medicinal liquor.
The witch's jaw teetered.
Where were all the naïve and unskilled heroes of Alkiorn?!
Yes, she knew exactly where! Thousands of them, their bejeweled corpses beautified this very Tower until this fateful day, when another Four attacked. To slay without fail both Overlord and Hag they came prepared, ready to lay down their own life if need be.
At once she aimed one of her best curses at the Arkan kin, yet the Elf hurled himself at it, and, axe raised above his head, delivered yet another strike. To dash, this time the Red Hag had no time and yet again, she employed her Flesh Stave to block. Such was the force behind this blow that she nearly fell to her knees – only the magicks of her stave saved her legs from buckling.
Her left ankle was twisted...
“Obey, obey and slay thy filthy friends!” - Screeched once more she, hoping that the Sorceress, some of her focus poured into tending to the Dwarf's deadly wounds, she'd finally overpower the Priest's will.
It wasn't the Arkan maiden's voice that answered her this time, but a gaggle of laughing children. Decade of chuckles and layers upon layers of encouraging words, the sound of weights being lifted, and the singing of hopeful songs, all formed a towering wall cemented by love. Of friendship, of kin, and of neighborhood, this bulwark was patrolled by the Elf's promises, one of which the Hag heard him say aloud:
“I came to sing Vayila's blessings in thy presence.”
“Not that these squealings of yours will help thee much, Unchosen one!”
He used his body to block another spell of hers and this time, there was a hallowed golden aura surrounding him. Stalwart, the Elf stood in all his tall stature, always between her and the Sorceress, his eyes tracking the Hag's every move. Blood dripped from his many magickally inflicted wounds, the plates of his long chain mail torn, bent, and molten. However, one glance at his eyes under the helm's mask, and the Red Hag saw them aglow with concentrated happiness.
It wasn't his own hope alone, but a gathering of wholesome memories that shone like a star in the dark. If that wasn't enough, true to his promise, the Elf sang Vayila a prayer:
Deny your life-stealing ways I do,
The Hope of friends, the Love of Kin, did this Will of mine reforge anew!
With Vayila's loving smile shining bright,
Strength gained by one, yet earned by many, thou I shalt smite!
“Whine as many useless words full of weakness, ultimately, thy fate is to enfeed me, Elf.”
To use her trump card, the Red Hag had to pick one moment and this breath, to her it seemed most opportune. The Sorceress was still tending to her companion's wounds, and the Elf... he'd sang his last song and committed his Priestly golden glow for one final attack. A strike which would never come, for someone like her, a witch of many centuries, she was not easily bested.
“Come, my sisters in witchcraft! Through Gate-Walls walk, fingertips aglow in spell and many a curst word ready to let fly from your lips!”
Writhe with energy, said Gate-Walls began to tore open the fabric of local space, and the figures of seven witches half-stepped through them. The Red Hag's jubilant mood turned to horror, when these most prized witchcraft gateways wavered. A choir of her witches' painful wallows and warped cries echoed across the throne room, as they began to materialize.
The Sorceress, one hand pressing a half-bandaged wound and another holding her spear, bellowed:
“Shatter, by order of Creation, thy plane polluting gateways, I will!”
Unable to react with such swiftness and counter a spell of Creation so powerful in a single breath, the Red Hag could only watch how all seven of her hags died. They did indeed appear, yet their bodies were now part of broken ceiling, crumbling wall, and shattered floor. Magicks of significant power already woven and ready to kill, exploded, further damaging the already barely standing upwards construction.
Suffered much blows and terrible magicks, the Tower's quaking upper floor... tilted.
Spitting blood, the Arkan kin was barely able to stand. Most of her magicks were spent to counter the Gate-Walls and materialize the Red Hag's witches into the Tower itself. She threw the Elf a glare most terrified, bloody tears running down her cheeks, took a raspy breath and reached for a bronze-forged slave bracelet. Only now did the Hag notice this item, previously hidden under a bloodied bandage.
The Tower grumbled mightily, and the entire throne room careened even further to one side.
“Princess Hope may not grace us with her life-giving smile today, beloved Ainhart.” - Said the Sorceress with a somber voice, and unbuckled her bracelet.
Her entire body aglow with previously shackled magicks, the Arkan kin stood tall, her hands holding the spear and powers keeping the entire upper floor leveled. Without this intervention, the Red Hag knew they'd soon come crashing down and slam into the streets below. Now that her Gate-Walls were shattered, the only avenue of escape were the Overlord's warrior magicks.
Kill the Elf, and his Knightly fellow she would, then escape together with her Lord! 'Twas this or certain doom, and the Red Hag had stolen her way into the future for too many centuries to fail now.
“I made thee a promise, dear Eirunn.” - Smiled the peerless Elf, and, despite all of his wounds, and the scorching magickal glow coming from the luminous Sorceress, advanced at the Hag.
Mind unprotected by sorcerous will, it was the wall which he built by himself that shielded him from the Hag's poisonous thoughts. Her own magicks nigh spent, she had one last curse left and readied it, shalt her will be incapable of shattering the Priest's.
“Surrender to my service and I will be merciful! Unchosen one no longer, thou shalt be unmolested, live together with thy oh-so-precious family. The Overlord shall spare that village, if you but obey me now, and cull these three.”
The Elf stopped dead in his tracks, the long-shafted axe still raised high above his helmeted head, mere steps away from the Red Hag's tired beyond measure body.
He said nothing, and the wall which she saw gleaming inside his mind, dimmed.
“Yes, follow my command and strike thy Knightly friend dead!” - Bellowed again in his mind she, one finger pointing at the back of the Neldaeiri warrior.
He made another step, twas to the side and away from her, and so the Red Hag rejoiced, as she screamed again, reinforcing her command:
“Good! Now, stab him in the back. You owe the Neldaeiri nothing, Elf! Think of your friends, your kin, and your precious village. What would happen to them, if thou falters here?!”
He took a deep breath, his skin smoldering from the impossible might that the maiden Sorceress employed to hold the Tower's upper floor still.
“Came not alone, he did!” - Boomed a choir of children's voices inside the Hag's head, and shaken to her core, the Red Hag vomited blood.
“Our son shan't falter here, witch!” - Roared the voices of the Elf's father, mother, and the Hag was swept to her knees.
“That what Neldaeiri giveth us freely, we shall give back and twice over!” - Heavy with wisdom announced the Elf's grandparents, and the Hag recoiled in pain from their love.
He was not going to slay his friends, the Hag swiftly realized. Instead, the Elf had taken a step back so he could charge with all his might! Thus, with the desperation of one who took but never gave back, she launched forth her most powerful witchcraft, as the Elf dashed at her.
Stop his heart the curst incantation did, yet, the priestly warrior still ran, his mighty axe descended at her skull. In desperation, the Red Hag braced herself and once more, blocked the incoming strike with her Flesh Stave.
Her stave shattered.
The Elf fell.
Brassiere slashed open and axe stuck deep into her chest, the Red Hag squealed.
Every single soul that her witches took body parts from to craft her mighty stave, now circled her. Wizards and sorcerers, their warped faces masks of unimaginable torture, clawed at her in her weakened state, and with all of their unshackled might. To empower her witchcraft she bound them to her stave, just as the Overlord entombed the bejeweled skeletons of his defeated enemies into his Tower.
Powers and unjustly prolonged life ebbed away, as full of vengeful intent souls flew through her shriveling body one after another. In mere breaths, the once hauntingly beautiful Hag was nothing more than a broken skeleton on the rumbling floor, rotting skin wrapped around her bones.
No longer protected by stolen souls, her own was quite unceremoniously plucked by Father Death. He, undeniably happy to see another balance breaker gone, was sad to feel the inevitable passing of the priestly Elf.
With a sigh and in his pocket of no-time, he reached forth, yet before he could touch the noble warrior, a voice charged with power nigh impossible to command, begged him:
“I beseech thee, Father Death, hath mercy! Time is nothing before thy eternal duty. Please, wait till my Knightly friend claims the Overlord's blood, so he could save his betrothed. Then, when he, my beloved, and our Ranger are no longer here... take ME instead!”
Death was inevitable and balance to be maintained, yet there were times when he placed souls and hearts upon his scales. These four mortals, they stole nothing, but instead restored what stood broken and over many centuries, nonetheless. However, as willing to help as he was, Father Death knew that, for one thing to be given, another item of equal value had to be offered in return...
***
Dear reader, if you liked this story, you might enjoy my published work.
This is amazing. The battle, the curses, the counters, the injuries, the spellcraft, and healing with sutures. The prayers, the gifts of family and friends, and the wish of life.
I want this book once you publish it.
Holy crap, I love this!!