Dasen pulled back the string of his bow and released. A heartbeat later, the arrow slammed into the shoulder of the stout swordsman who was sprinting toward him. The man fell to the ground with the impact but soon rose and continued his charge.
Unfortunately, Dasen had not hit his sword arm, and the warrior still held the broad cleaver of a weapon in his thick-fingered grip. He was well shorter than the average man but broad with heavy-set shoulders and chest. He did not wear a shirt, and his body rippled with taught muscles. The only protection he carried was a thick wooden shield almost as tall as himself and a steel helmet that covered his face in a veil of rings.
Dasen reached to the quiver of arrows above his shoulder for another shaft. Panic washed over him. His hand patted the quiver, unwilling to believe that there was nothing there. Realizing that more arrows were not going to magically appear, he ran. He knew that he wouldn’t last a second against the charging invader or the dozens of others behind him, so he ran. He ran until he was behind a stoic line of city folk who were preparing to receive the charge of the shirtless invaders.
The short men hit the defenders just as Dasen snatched a new quiver from the body of a fallen invader. The city folk were hopelessly outnumbered, and the invaders made quick work of them, hacking through them like a pack of butchers moving through a flock of chickens. Dasen pulled the bow, took a deep breath, and fired an arrow into the melee before him. The arrow found its mark, sinking nearly to the fletching in the chest of a shirtless man.
Dasen smiled, pleased and surprised with his sudden ability. Throughout the day, he had shot as never before. He rarely missed and the arrows flew with a power that he knew he should never have been capable of generating. But he also knew that it was not him that was doing it. It was the power. After that first use of the magical power, he had been more in tune with the energy around him, and it continued to fill him. It scattered his thoughts and made it hard to concentrate, but it also gave him an incredible sense of calm and purpose. It blocked his emotions, his pain, and fatigue; it made him feel invincible, superhuman. Several times over the course of the battle, he had also used that power in a more profound way. He had no idea how he did it, but it always happened when the battle was most desperate, when there was no other hope. The power would fill him, and he would unleash a ball of fire that would swing the tide in the defenders favor, if only for a moment.
After he destroyed that first creature, Teth and the other defenders had looked at him like they might turn their spears on him, but the appearance of the huge mounted warriors following the creatures had silenced any questions. And now, hours later, he was almost renowned for his abilities.
The one thing he knew for certain about his new ability was that it was generated by the battle around him. Fear, pain, hatred were its source. The more pitched the battle, the more desperate the defenders, the more bloodthirsty the invaders, the more of the power he felt flowing through him.
It was the power of the Lawbreakers from The Book of Valatarian. It was evil, and deep down, he knew it. He knew that he should deny it, but if he had, he, Teth, and many of those around him would be dead. The power was the defenders’ only hope, their only weapon. Put in that context, any weapon was evil, was a travesty against order. His power was no different than the arrow he had just launched or the swords that the short man it hit was carrying. The elements of evil in a battle such as this were beyond comprehension. His power was one small drop in an ocean of devastation.
The shirtless invaders cut down the last of the defenders and looked for their next set of victims. Dasen launched one more arrow, hit a shield, and ran. He wove through the scattered lines of the defenders, leaving the short men to fall upon another group of ragged men and boys. As he snaked through the thickening clumps, he looked back for Teth and found her running behind him. Despite anarchy all around them, they were a constant. They had never been more than a few feet apart, no matter what they faced, or where they ran.
Dasen looked out over what was left of the defenders and saw that the men were forming into a tighter and tighter stack along the river. After the horns had blown a few minutes before – it seemed like days ago – the defenders lines had shattered. When the invaders reengaged, the battle had turned to chaos. Now clumps of defenders struggled to reform their lines as they fell back to the city, but they were almost out of room.
They ran until they were twenty paces behind the reforming line, but the river was only ten paces behind them, and it was not much more inviting an escape. The Orm River was wide and fast flowing. Dasen thought that he could probably swim it if he were well rested, but in his current state – even powered by the energy of the battle – he knew he would not make it halfway across, and that was if Teth could swim a stroke.
As the men crowded around them, Dasen noticed that he was being pushed steadily toward the south. Standing on his toes, he saw that the defenders had created an outlet to the city, and a steady stream of men was pushing through the bottleneck into the temporary haven. The first buildings of Thoren were still in the distance, but he was not certain he wanted to be there in any case. Dozens of creatures swarmed above the buildings, knocking the tops off of towers, spitting balls of fire, or snapping defenders off of the walls. On the ground, there were explosions of fire, lightning, and stone as powers similar to the ones he had tapped tore the metropolis apart. Fires burned unchecked through almost every quarter. The city was a deathtrap every bit as real as the one they were seeking to escape.
Ripping his eyes from the horrific spectacle, Dasen looked in the opposite direction and found the last of the defenders little more than fifty paces behind them. At the rate the line was closing on them, they did not need to worry about what was happening in the city. The battle would consume them long before they reached the first of the ramshackle buildings.
A tug at his sleeve interrupted Dasen’s inspection. He looked down and found Teth standing at his shoulder. She looked like she would collapse at any moment. Her clothes were black with mud. Blood, some of it her own, stained her shirt and pants even through the mud, and the material was marked by several long slashes some of which were held together by rough bandages that were likewise marred with red. Dasen knew that he looked at least as bad. Although he could not feel his pain through the energy that infused him, he knew that his body was covered with cuts, scrapes, and bruises, and if not for the mystic energy, he would probably fall to the ground in exhaustion. He thought that must be how Teth, unable to reach that energy, must feel, and his heart, as much as possible, went out to her.
She was asking him a question, Dasen realized. He fought the vortex in his mind to claim the words. “How does it look out there?” she had asked.
“Not good,” was the only response he could manage.
Teth nodded thoughtfully. “Well, you got us into this mess. How do you plan to get us out?”
He smiled and was preparing his own barb about her ability to swim when the thunder of charging horses drew his attention to the south. His eyes rose just in time to see a blur of silver and brown smash into the line of defenders. Sporting plate mail from their head to their horses, the knights had somehow built the momentum for a charge. The defenders split before them like silk touched to a razor. Their spears bounced harmlessly off of armored plates as steel-shod hooves and swinging blades thrashed them to the ground. They were helpless against the onslaught, and it was only the river that finally arrested the charge.
There as a collective roar of agony from the defenders. They surged back from the knights in a crunch that threw Teth into Dasen. He grabbed her arms to support her as they fought to keep their feet. Teth soon reestablished her balance as the crowd redistributed itself, but he continued to hold her protectively against him.
“What the hell just happened?” Teth pulled away from him and rose to her toes in an attempt to see above the men packed around them.
&nbs
p; “A unit of heavy cavalry just cut us off from the main group. We're blocked from the city.” It was said with as much emotion as Dasen could muster, which was little. The rush of panic in the defenders had created a swell in the energy he drew from the battle. He felt it surge through him, scattering his thoughts and wiping away his emotions as it went. He knew that very soon he would be dead, but he could not feel anything about that.
“Any ideas?” The question wove its way through the stream of power. He barely managed to piece it together.
Dasen rose to his toes. The knights were pushing steady toward them from the front. They used long swords, axes, and spiked clubs to mow down the defenders. The city folk had no defense against them. Their weapons were worthless against the heavy armor, and the invaders pushed through them like threshers through a field. Along the main line to the west, the bare-chested men had been replaced by the white-haired apparitions from the road. Those men held tight formations with their tall shields stacked into an impenetrable wall. Jutting through the holes in the shields were long spears. Those spears wove back and forth, in and out in a disciplined pattern that steadily pushed the defenders back or claimed them on their steel points. Finally, he looked behind them and saw the most horrifying vision of all. A mass of creatures had found its way to the front and was chewing up men as quickly as it could draw them in. North, south, east, west, all sides were blocked. They were trapped in a great meat grinder. The men on the south and west pushed the defenders into the creatures, which gobbled them up and spit out only pieces.
Dasen summarized his findings to Teth. He tried to blunt the hopelessness of the situation, but she just nodded. Her eyes were bleak. The sorrow of her expression penetrated even through the torrent of power. When she buried her head in his chest, the power almost failed. His knees wobbled, and he wrapped his arms around her, but he wasn’t sure whose legs were supporting them. So this is the end, he thought as he held Teth, smelled her metallic sweat for what may be the last time. He sighed. At least we’ll die together.
A man ran past. Another brushed Teth. A third nearly climbed over them in his rush. Dasen found himself fighting his allies just to maintain his feet and keep Teth with him. Men were flowing around them, rushing to the south and west, but there was nowhere to go. Dasen watched them rush into the knights and spears, held Teth protectively to keep her safe and watched the inexplicable. The city folk threw themselves onto the spears to the west to tie up the weapons so their fellows could move between them and strike the wall of shields beyond. Crazed defenders to the south pulled riders out of their saddles as they died from the blows those riders delivered. They died in droves, and some madman on a horse cheered them on.
Oban, Dasen realized. He was sitting on the only horse remaining among the defenders, literally flowing over the animal as if he were melting – Dasen wondered how the tall, sleek animal could support governor’s tremendous bulk. In his hand, Oban held a broad sword. He swung the weapon over his head and yelled, powerful voice rising over the roar of battle. “Push men! Do not allow the creatures of chaos to take you! Prove to these men that you have more honor than any they have ever seen. Push! Damn you! Push!” The men around Governor Markovim responded to his calls. They rushed to meet their deaths, threw themselves headlong into oblivion and were welcomed gladly.
Enthralled by the spectacle, Dasen was slow to notice Teth yelling at his side. He turned just in time to track the arrow as she released it. It flew only a few paces into the very image of the Maelstrom writhing up behind them. Creatures were flowing through the lagging defenders like a wave sweeping across the beach. And they were next.
Teth released another arrow. Dasen fired his own, cutting down one of the black-furred creatures he had fought in the forest. It fell back dead, but that did not save the man it had been prepared to bite. Ten creatures descended upon him in a blur. Dasen diverted his eyes and fired another pointless arrow into the black storm.
“Nice shot!” Teth exclaimed. “Why didn’t you shoot like that when we were in the forest?” Teth feathered a creature of her own, felling a large creature with a long neck and huge snapping jaws like a crocodile.
“It’s this power. I don’t know . . . .” Dasen broke off when he realized that Teth did not want an answer.
“You know every arrow on this field won’t stop them.” Teth seemed calmer, more confident, as if staring death in the eye was what she needed all along. “Do you think you can manage another of those fireballs?”
Dasen looked at the horde before them. The largest fireball he had managed all day would not make a dent in it. He said as much to Teth. She nodded and launched another arrow.
In a few short seconds, the end was upon them. Teeth, swords, hooks, and claws were all that Dasen could see. Everywhere he looked, they were arcing toward him. His ears were filled with a thousand curses, threats, and promises, echoing from the wave in a maddening ramble that made his insides shake. Beside him, Teth dropped her bow and pulled the knife from her belt. Her other hand found his and squeezed. “Goodbye, Dasen,” she whispered.
“No!” was all he managed as a reply.
The mysterious power had built to a staggering climax, and Dasen opened himself to it completely. The creatures he faced pulsed with the power as if their very existence generated it. Like chaos incarnate, they spawned disorder with their very being, crushed natural law with their every act, and each of those acts added to the power. Another surge issued from the defenders behind him as they died in their suicidal charge. The city, under the assault of magic and flying creatures, pulsed with power as it burned. Chaos dominated every corner of the battlefield, created an influx of power the likes of which had not been seen in generations, and with the recklessness of one who does not know any better, Dasen drew in every ounce of it.
The power flooded him, surged through him until he thought his sanity would collapse under the force of its thought-annihilating anarchy. He held that power, a hurricane in his mind, for a heartbeat; it felt like years. In that heartbeat, he could see every detail of the creatures that were preparing to claim him. He could see the blackness inside them, the cruel intent, the desire to destroy, cause pain, and create fear. He hated them, he realized, hated the creatures above all else, wanted nothing more than for them to be destroyed, for their scourge to be erased from the world. He forged that wish born of fear, pain, and hate, crafted it with his rage until it was the perfect lens for the maelstrom flowing through him.
The heartbeat passed, and in the next, he released his terrible wish upon the world. Runes flashed through his mind. They were different than the ones he had seen before, but he could not say how. Rather than fade from his mind’s eye, they burned their place there permanently, building one on top of another, each brighter than the first, to create a meaningless jumble. When the last of those runes formed and burned above the others, the power surge from him in a single convulsive spasm. The earth shook with the release of that power, groaned at the destruction that had been unleashed upon it, but the act was irrevocable.
The power formed an invisible wall stretching twenty paces to either side of its originator. That wall stood for an unbearable instant then raced through the creatures. Its power was to break the law that held matter together in solid form, and everything it touched shattered into particles too small to be called dust. Grass, earth, bodies, weapons, armor, anything contained in that swath was instantly, irretrievably annihilated.
Dasen watched in horror as the thing he had created did exactly what he had designed it to do. At his bidding, living creatures burst into non-existence, and devastation became a physical force. He had created something more terrible than anything those creatures could envision in their most horrible dreams. He was the monster now, the priest of chaos, the devil incarnate brought to life to destroy the Order. He wanted to die.
When the wall reached the
end of the creatures, some fifty paces from its origin, it stopped. Dasen could feel it shake, wavering for lack of purpose. It had completed its task but still held vast amounts of energy, and that energy had to be released. Without an outlet for its destruction it wobbled, lost its form, and collapsed upon itself. The result was a tremendous concussive explosion that sent Dasen flying backward even from that distance. The soundless blast deposited him on the sand around the banks of the river, knocked him senseless, and left him searching for the direction up.