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Chapter 18, Chronicle III - Death Comes Darkly By William Black The demon waited as Morlyn spent his rage. Its eyes narrowing on the prey. Instinctively it knew Will would not retaliate with magic, so both physically and supernaturally it had the advantage. The battle raged on below. The battle cry from Morion's troops echoing across the valley floor. The demon army continued to battle but were slowly being pushed back. Morlyn's attention was needed yet he continued to taunt Will Though with much less vigor. He felt the danger that his troops faced, so slowed his attacks on his old pupil. For his part, Will felt the approaching storm almost upon them. He needed to act quickly, or the advantage would soon turn. And the demon longed for his chance. But the Druid Knight wasn't distracted. He too waited, knowing the time was growing ever closer when the demon would renew its onslaught. Still dodging Morlyn's fire, Will circled to be closer to the demon. His instincts screamed against the insanity he planned. But in his heart, he knew his disparate folly was his only hope. Even Morlyn seemed to be tiring of the game of dodge fireball. He looked over his shoulder down at the battle; another ball of flame emerging from his hand. Turning quickly, he moved as if to throw the flame. Will jumped closer to the creature, only dodging just in time as the bolt roared past him. But Will's luck abandoned him. The ball of flame grazed his shoulder sending cold electrifying pain through is body. He felt his brain exploding in agony as he fell to the ground. Within the screams of pain he tried to shout, but would any one hear. Or understand. "Now!" Lightening split the sky with a thunderous sonic blast. Morlyn looked on with satisfied surprise. He knew it was finished. His pupil was finished. Almost casually he hurled one last flaming orb at his old apprentice, knowing that nothing now stood in his way of defeating Morion. Just at that moment the creature lunged at Will. Screaming with hatred, it leapt towards him, its arms out stretched intending to rip the hapless knight to shreds. Still dazed, Will barely knew what was happening. Instinct took over as the beast fell on him. Then the strange blue light engulfed them both. The world went dark and still. Morlyn's jaw dropped. He could not believe his eyes. "Fool! You stupid ignorant oaf! By the Rays, if I could bring you back to life just to kill you again, I would. Bloody FOOL! You robbed me! You ROBBED ME! I wanted to see death in that druid's eyes!" Morlyn was jumping up and down, completely insane. Anger mingled with joy; brewed in giddy madness. Watching the conflagration he knew he'd won. The only real challenge to his domination of Morion, and the taking of the woman herself, was gone. Dead was the Druid Knight. And with him the pathetic hopes of Morion and her people. In his training of Gardain and Lord Banon he'd been completely honest. Morion's people were helpless without Magic. Fortunately, he wasn't deluded by his own lie. And his pupil? What had really become of him? Had love truly poisoned his heart and mind so much that he truly abandoned his use of magic? Morlyn suddenly felt something odd. A sense of let down? His victory over his pupil was rather anticlimactic. He turned his head to look back at the battle below, and started to laugh. A bloody guffaw. A warning screamed through Morlyn's madness. The taste of blood? Something was wrong! Something frothy and thick leaked out between shriveled lips. Morlyn glanced down at his chest. An arrow was protruding from his robes, surrounding by a wet stain. Stunned, his mind raced to understand what this meant. Then another arrow just materialized. He didn't feel a thing, but there it was. A cold shiver racked his body. This had to be magic. He looked up shaking his head in denial; dark blood slowly oozed from his lips. A bolt of lightening cracked overhead, illuminating a figure standing ten yards away. It was man-shaped and cloaked in mud. Morlyn's eyes were growing strangely dim but recognition dawned on him. The last words he heard before he slumped to the ground were: "Checkmate." The mud-caked man walked slowly over, another arrow readied for a killing shot, to where Morlyn lay unmoving. Moments passed as the figure stood above the dead Druid; not really wanting to believe the sorcerer was dead. A dark expression creased his once handsome face as he relaxed, put down his bow, and removed his sword from its sheath. With a powerful blow, he kicked Morlyn's body over so he could see its face. Those unseeing eyes looked up at him in frozen recognition. It made him even angrier at what had been done to him. He raised his sword to lop off Morlyn's head. "Damn Druid." But before Sir David let the sword fall, something whispered in his mind. Or was it a sound he heard? Looking around, he saw only the battle raging in the valley below, and the smoldering body of the demon creature. Yet there it was again. A faint nudge in his mind. Weak and hardly perceptible. "Damn!" He looked back to where Morlyn lay and saw the old Druid's now powerless staff. Picking it up, he hurried over to where the smoking demon body rested and used the staff to lever the charred carcass off the Druid beneath. His chest heaving with effort, he lifted and shoved until the mass finally rolled to one side. Only then did he see what lay below. Only then did the realization of the sacrifice made hit him. Sinking to his knees, he closed his eyes against the tears. The old Druid's staff dropped forgotten from his hand. "Oh God, please...No!" ~~~~~ Morion's troops had made their last valiant stand against the demon horde, even for a time going on the offensive. But their numbers were now too few to even trust to hope for victory. Morion continued her slaughter, but her muscles were cramped, and her movements slowed. Yet with Morgan still at her back, she was well protected. Then it came. Softly on the breeze. As subtle as gossamer, an alteration in fortune. Suddenly, demon's all around started dropping their weapons. One by one, and then small groups, just turned away. It was like watching the beginnings of an avalanche. The numbers of those abandoning the fight grew quickly as the beasts turned and started lumbering away from the battle. Even the demon commanders seemed to grow uninterested in the slaughter. Morion and her troops watched stunned. A few took the opportunity to renew their fight, but quickly halted their massacrer when the demons didn't turn to protect themselves. Both Morion and Morgan looked around at the scene of devastation. So many had died and been wounded. They heard moans of pain all around them. Yet still they stood in stunned amazement. Turning to Morgan, Morion asked, "What do you feel. What's going on?" Morgan shook her muddied red hair slowly. "I don't know. I can't sense anything." She paused a moment, her head tilted as if listening to distant voices, "And that worries me more than all that I've seen today." Both women jumped as the sound of a horrible screeching came from behind them. They turned in time to see a black streak falling out of the sky. Morgan's face turned ashen. "What is it!" Demanded Morion. William Black © Continues... Chronicle III, Main page |