The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 65

To Arda

“We can’t hold out for any longer.” A barrage of bullets came from Frostrest. The army had marched forward, the spell Julius cast’s effect diminished. The only retaliation they could muster were fireballs of varying intensity, Annet was focused on defending Ayleth’s body. Fenrir used ice-spears to provide support, Julius did all the heavy work. He truly was a battle-mage, despite fighting a desperate battle, he remained calm and composed. Every spell he cast had a purpose, the ten years of experience came to fruition. Autumn changed to a supportive role, Void, the car was hidden by a concealment spell. Earlier, Julius tried budging the car to which it responded, it now laid to rest underneath Brisnet Heights, cover by foliage and bushes.

Fenrir voiced her concern, the village wasn’t that far away. They were behind the cover of a little cave inside the mountain, small and easy to spot. Ignoring that fact, they hid, Julius peaked out here and there to fight. Fenrir and he made a good team, it worked in their favor; for the time being. The small cave had two openings, one lower while the other higher up. Saving mana was a priority, so they took turn going up and firing spells from there. Autumn stayed inside; their situation remained like this for hours on end. Kreston was in fact firing but didn’t know where they were, so it was more suppressive fire than a full-on assault. “I agree,” they swapped places. Julius was now on the offensive. “How did we ever think we would be able to hold Kreston back,” Fenrir spoke, her voice lowered in sharpness gradually, her friendly and charming side became nonexistent. “It’s all Staxius’s fault.” Annet let out a bit of her thought, unwillingly. Everyone, except Julius; turned around and stared at her. “You know its true,” she continued. “Do you really mean that?” Fenrir’s mind fumed with anger and disappointment. Annet’s grey eyes lost its vigor, she lifelessly stared at Fenrir. “Yes, I do mean it.” She lied to herself, Annet wanted to blame everything on someone else.

“Disappointing,” Autumn stepped in uninvited. “-here I thought this man named Staxius Haggard, a person I vaguely remember, had companions he called family. But now I see that all that was a lie, your only pawns for him to use.”

“W-what makes you say that?” Annet asked.

“It’s pretty obvious, weak allies make a kingdom weaker; he’s probably clearing out the trash.” A faint chuckle was heard. “Autumn is right,” Fenrir answered. “we’re weak, and that’s maybe the purpose he sent us here.” Baffled, Annet spoke up, “he also gave us strict orders to return alive.” Her eyes gleamed. “I was being a fool, I apologize.”

“Anyone can play the blame game,” a quiet whisper was heard. “Ayleth,”

“Don’t be so rough on him, I’m sure that help is on its way, I can feel it.” She regained conscience, at last, the scroll did remove the threat of instant death. The crisis wasn’t averted just yet. “If help is truly on its way, we’ll need to hold out for one to two days.” Annet bit her lips. “We’ll pull through,” Julius yelled. “Focus on the enemy, brother.” Autumn fired back. “Meanie,” he replied in a childish tone, it alleviated the gloomy feeling that presided over them.

The engines roared, sitting in the back, a small platoon of mercenaries, they were armed to the teeth. “We’re on route to Frostrest, our sole objective is the search and rescue of the defending party,” Adelana said, as she stood menacingly in the center. “Understood,” everyone respected her authority, the leader of the silver guardians is well known throughout the land, not to commoners and villagers, but to battle-hardened fighters. Her strength with a great-sword had the power to crush anyone, it nearly earned her the title of Devine-blade; a title given to the strongest swordsman or swordswomen in the kingdom. Sadly, it never came to pass, the princess didn’t enjoy the thought of a commoner having such a privilege. From that day forth, she went by another nickname, Cursed-blade. It wasn’t because of her rejection at attaining the Devine-blade title, but the curse of total annihilation every time she took to a battlefield. During the last war, countless outposts were destroyed with a single slash from her, she grew to fame quickly. A master-swordswomen by all rights – it had been years since she held a sword for the purpose of killing. She swore after accidentally killing innocents that she would never hold a sword to fight. Today, that all changed, her eyes filled with anger and hate, she looked serious. The great-sword rested on her back, the blade’s edges were dull and dusty but not chipped. The handle looked like two pointy teeth staring at the end.

.....

“The cursed-blade steps onto the field once more, this should be interesting.” One of the mercenaries spoke out, he and his crew were cleaning their guns. “I can’t wait, my body is going numb just thinking about it.” Another one replied. “No that’s just you getting lightheaded.” The same guy replied sarcastically. The ride went like this back and forth with jokes and petty comments about ladies and guns. Some discussed politics while others just ranted about their frustrations with how the kingdom was being run. Who would have imagined that those mercenaries would have conversed about how states and currencies worked. They added rumors and plain old speculations, having traveled all over Hidros – their repertoire was filled with virgin tales about legends and myths.

Out of the bunch, a story stood out. “I once went face to face with a being I’ve never encountered before. Look at my right eye, this scar was given to me by said monstrosity. It was as big as a lion and twice as aggressive and powerful. In the end, the boys and I managed to slay it. A bounty had been placed on its head. As we were about to slice its head and take it as trophy, the body vanished, it turned to dust. I never saw anything like that ever again, and to this day I still have nightmares.” The truck continued its voyage.

It reached noon, Staxius stepped through the portal. The weightlessness of the teleportation spell was the first time he ever experienced anything like this. “Amazing,” he mumbled while being transported by the vampire, Aurora. “Get ready, it’s just about complete.” A sudden feeling of pressure broke through the portal and they stepped out. As requested by Aurora, he acted like a helpless and weak convict. Dark-arts activated; he changed his whole aura to feeble. “What’s this feeling, mana, I feel it, it’s all over the place.” His gaze remained on the floor, it was dark-brown, like soil but harder and shinier. The walls around the small room he reappeared in were dark-brown. “Raise your head, Staxius.” She whispered. “What is it?” before him a door, the ceiling was made of wood, and so were the walls. A strange symbol presided over the door. A quick glance behind, the portal was gone, all that stood was another wall. Next to the door, on the right, a torch, it burnt with a greenish flame. The look on Aurora’s face gave a feeling of anxiety, she was scared for some reason. Her hands trembled, “we’re about to step out into the palace, please don’t do anything rash and keep your gaze on the ground and if too hard, stare at my lovely bottom as much as you want.” She said it jokingly, she wanted to clear her mind too. Although her hips were curvy, the red dress she wore was torn, courtesy of Staxius. “I’ll pass, I’d rather stare at your face than those bottoms; it’s more appealing in my opinion.” He replied with a speck of passion. “Alright, let’s move.”

The handcuffs binding him suddenly glowed, a chain materialized from it. It shot forward with enough velocity to reach Melantha’s hands without looking. *Click,* the door opened, expecting to see guards waiting, Staxius quickly glimpsed up and stared down. Sadly, the door opened to nothingness, it was black – another portal. The whole castle used portals instead of doors, it was to keep uninvited guests out. They walked through, his head remained lowered.

“Greetings Melantha,” a strict voice spoke. They emerged into the clearance room, a semi-circular table with files on top of files with an elf sitting behind. All around them, doors of various sizes and colors. This didn’t bother him as much as the presence he felt. They pierced him with the gaze of contempt; the ones responsible were two lizardmen, armed with spears and stood twice as big as him. “Who is that you bring with you?” the elf asked, “never mind, raise your head.” He obeyed. “Is that the supposed defiler?” she wrote something on her notepad, “here I thought you were going to kill him. I shall notify the queen of your arrival, please take the next portal and leave this monster to us, he shall be sent to the dungeon while we wait for her majesty.”

A quick glance behind, Aurora blinked her eyes twice. It was her own way of saying good luck.

“Guards.” She called out, instantly both lizardmen took him by the arm and forced him down another portal. “Aren’t we a bit forceful,” he smirked while getting pushed inside. *Bam,* he landed. The smell of rotten corpses made his eyes water, it was dark and grim. By the touch, it felt squishy and disgusting. A single hole with four iron bars provided what little light he had. He landed on dead people, or rather, dead creatures; ones from mythology. “Lizardmen, it was them – they look even more imposing than the illustrations I saw in the book about ancient civilization.” He stood up and walked over to the corner, where it was dry in comparison. He sat and waited, time had come to make a plan, but he had no inspiration. Making a scheme was normally his bread and butter, though today, he lacked inspiration. “The ever-flowing stream of mana, this place is truly different from Dorchester. It’s pure and untouched by filthy hands, it’s as it was years ago, Arda even if I haven’t seen it – is a place where people respect nature.”

Meanwhile, upstairs in the throne room, Aurora was called forth by her majesty. With her confidence regained, she walked in as if she had slain a dragon barehanded. As she approached the queen, her gaze fell to the ground and she knelt out of respect. “Glad to see you’re doing well,” her tone was as piercing as ever. Aurora didn’t reply, the queen didn’t give her permission to speak. “I’ve gotten reports that you’ve brought the defiler into Arda, what are your reasons behind it?” Melantha waited, “Excuse me, your granted permission to speak, and raise your head.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” she looked up. “-as you ordered, you didn’t specify if you wanted me to kill or bring the defiler alive. I thought the latter would be the better option, my reasoning behind this is that you personally dishing out punishment to that vile-human would do the elves’ justice.” Shanna closed her eyes and let out a sigh. At first glance, this little display would look as if she wasn’t pleased or was offended. Luckily it wasn’t the case here, “the blame lies on me for not specifying.” She took a quick pause, “-it matters not, you bringing that man here will be beneficial.”

Quickly, she asked one of her counselors to come at her side. She whispered something in his ears, “good job, you’re dismissed. If you so choose, you may stay here and wait, for we shall bring your convict shortly.” A quick nod and a bow, Melantha left and stood to the side, within the shadows.

It came faster than expected. Staxius sat – it had not even been thirty minutes. A portal opened up and the same guard who threw him in came back. “You’re to be judged before the queen herself, stand up, scum, death awaits you.” Staxius didn’t look phased, rather, his face said something else, he was ready to confront anyone, may it be god or fairy, he itched for a fight. As slowly as possible, he stood and walked over. This provoked the lizardman, out of habit, the guard took out his spear and gave Staxius a hit so hard that it broke. “Bit uncalled for, won’t you say?” Staxius walked through the portal nonchalantly. “That god damn hurt,” his face remained as emotionless as ever. The pain subsided; it triggered his body to heighten his senses. Confused, the guard took him by the arm and brought him back to the clearance room, or most commonly referred as the portal room.

“Not again,” something triggered his death element. His eyes went blank, “guess it’s time to meet the queen.” Coming out of another portal, two other guards, this time knights. They wore black and golden armor, Staxius stood still. *Slap,* one of the men struck him so hard his head nearly broke. Staxius sighed, “really? First the stick now a slap, you guys are sadists.” His gaze felt cold. “Why am I in this mood now? I thought I changed my persona to a timid and shy criminal but subconsciously I’m acting as if I’m the strongest man in the universe. This is so unnecessary,” he let out a little chuckle. “Are you mocking us?” the same guard punched him twice in the stomach. “Let’s go on with it.” Staxius shrugged, the knights looked angry.

“Gentlemen, please, don’t vent your prejudice and frustration just yet, let the queen decide.” The elf spoke, she calmed them. “I apologize,” the knight tugged on the chains connected to the handcuffs.

Finally, he entered the throne room. The place was gigantic, a total of eight pillars beautifully crafted stood by four on each side. In the middle of said pillars, a red carpet made from some material he didn’t recognize. The ceiling had a massive painting engraved on it, it was something mysterious. The queen, though sitting far away, was visible. She sat atop what looked like half a pyramid. The throne presided over everything; height meant power. Behind her, a wall made from vines of exotic plants and trees. It sent out a message that Arda, in fact, loved its forest.

“Stop walking slowly,” the knight sharply tugged on the chains. Staxius didn’t care, he was admiring the architecture of this place. Out of the corner of his eyes, as he walked closer and closer, Aurora gave a little smile. “We’ve brought the defiler, your majesty.” Both knights knelt, Staxius remained standing. Gossip filled the room, he didn’t notice it before, but there was another floor, hidden away behind the pillars. A place where her counselors and people of interest, sat. “Get on your knees,” one of the guards gritted through his teeth. “Should I or should I not? Decisions, decisions, I’m bored, let’s have fun.” He arrived at a conclusion, ignore courtesy, and do whatever he wanted. “I apologize, I physically can’t kneel down. Have you conveniently forgotten that you’ve assaulted me before bringing me here?”

“Is that true?” the queen heard it. “D-don’t b-believe the word of a c-criminal, your majesty.” Her eyes changed, “criminal or no, I hate liars more than anything.” She reached behind her head, and with a quick motion, threw a thorn.

“Don’t mind if I do?” with his hands still in cuffs, he leaned down and caught said thorn.

“Something has been stuck in my teeth for some time now,” he cleared his teeth and threw it down.”

The queen’s gaze changed, Staxius smiled.