Games of the Powerful

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  Earlier Magna ran from the manor house converted to infirmary as fast as she could closely followed by ever-faithful Fangthane and Thoryn winding up on the northwest tower of the keep watching the duke and duchess talk to Mitch. She was not sure why she came rushing to the tower with so many injured still needing her help only that a feeling, a strong need for her to be here drew her, and a voice urging her to stay and be patient that her time had not yet come kept her here. It turned out the fast-moving line of horses and men were thousands of elves on horseback. She watched in amazement as their much-vaunted cavalry hit the enemy force with a hail of arrows killing thousands opening the way for a wave of riders to swoop in smashing pots of oil all over the trebuchets and the enemy soldiers operating them. Another group of riders quickly followed slashing across the line of trebuchets throwing lighted torches high into the air followed by a deafening explosion of flames reverberating against the castle walls as they quickly peeled away back into the main body of elves. The main body of elves slammed into the enemy force inexorably pressing forward to climb the walls paying no heed to the elves. She watched in amazement at how efficient the elves were with their swords when massive amounts of blood and body parts began flying into the air with such proficiency it astounded her. What she had not noticed is she was beginning to enjoy the show but Thoryn had and he was looking at her with a concerned expression on his face.

  Enemy airships are fast approaching the castle; the soldiers are doing everything they can to slow the advance firing the loaded ballista as the wizards sent bolts of pure light slamming into the shields around the ships punching holes in the underside of the closest one. Suddenly someone yelled shields up and she watched in slow motion as the soldiers protecting Mitch, the duke and duchess raised their shields to protect them from a hail of crossbow bolts. Suddenly she felt something ripped from her chest, something dear to her heart. Looking on in horror, she saw a crossbow bolt in Thoryn’s eye, and two more struck deep into his chest. With his mouth wide open in shock, he crumpled forward dead. With tears in her eyes, she saw her beloved dog Fangthane punctured with numerous bolts lying on his side dead blood dripping from his many wounds.

  Something suddenly changed inside her, a blackness filled with hatred, malice emerged stronger than ever, and she welcomed it with open arms. It started as a thin line of darkness growing quickly chasing the pure light of love before it wrapping her essence in total darkness. Enraged she pointed her hands skyward releasing the vast power that she had at her fingertips. Black lightening flew in all directions hitting the airships blowing them to cinders killing those on board sending their bodies plummeting to hit the plan below. The power she released dropped the duke and his soldiers to the roof of the keep holding them in place unable to move. Pointing her hands at the invading army, and with painstaking care she turned it into burned ash decimating the entire invading army. Then voices of reason entered her mind and she welcomed them. They told her she must flee for now but her time would come for vengeance. They sent her an image of a dark threshold leading to her new sanctuary. Duplicating the threshold, she casually walked through it disappearing from the battlements.

  Epilogue

  Sitting behind his mahogany desk with his back slumped forward toward the door Syran knew that death was coming for him. Looking in the mirror at himself, he concluded that he had died many years ago when he decided to take the course he had chosen in life. He had looked into his sunken black eyes no longer seeing the good man that he had been early in his life. To this day, he does not know why he chose the path that he did. In the beginning, something always tried unsuccessfully to nudge him away from the dark path he was on, but as the years trudged on it had grown fainter and fainter until it no longer existed, no longer urging him away from darkness. Therefore, when he found out the terrible news that his plans had failed he locked himself in his room to wait on the inevitable. Even his plans for the swamp orcs to join the fray did not materialize as he had hoped oh, a few did but Duke Unther smashed them mercilessly sending the rest scurrying back into their swamps and bogs. Still he waited and waited for more than two days until a rapping at his door nearly caused his weak heart to fail. Suddenly without his permission, the king’s wizard opened the door and walked in.

  “Come, come Syran why the look of terror. You look as if death has visited you this bleak and rainy night,” Mallastyr said closing the door behind him.

  “What is it you want from me Mallastyr?” Syran asked his voice weak and brittle sounding.

  “Tut-tut Syran what makes you think I want something from you? Well in truth I do indeed want something from you but first we have some delicate matters to discuss,” Mallastyr sneered. Syran could feel the fear growing from deep inside his gut and moving outward to consume him. When he looked into Mallastyr’s eyes, he saw something he had never noticed there before and he cringed back into his chair for he saw the same look he has seen in his eyes ever since he chose this path of evil.

  In a fearful tone, Syran asked tentatively, “what are we to discuss Mallastyr?”

  “I think you know by now, yes I believe that you fully understand the position you are in for I see it in your eyes you recognize me for what I truly am. It actually feels so satisfying to be what I truly am then to be hiding like a coward from an unwise king that would not know evil if it sat on his lap. He is king in name only Syran you know that. When the time is right, I will destroy him like vermin under my shoe. Enough of this prattling on about something that lies in the future, we must discuss the present. What say you my friend,” Mallastyr said friend in a tone that sent shivers down his spine.

  “Mallastyr please I beg of you to let me live I will do better the next time, I promise I will not fail the masters,” Syran had come from behind his desk to fall to his knees groveling before Mallastyr.

  “Syran begging is so churlish and debasing I wonder what that puppet king would say if he saw you so. Do you know the idiot king loves you as if you were his grandfather,” Mallastyr snickered. “If only he could see and hear you now,” Mallastyr smirked. Something changed inside Syran for the better. That tiny voice urging him to accept love instead of hate returned. For the first time in as many years, it had returned and he welcomed it. He could feel the light tugging at the entrenched darkness in him. Thinking about the love this king had for him, he remembered things he had long since forgotten. Suddenly appearing in his mind as if they happened yesterday, images of the time when Renaldo was born and how happy he and the entire palace was brought tears to his eyes. He watched the child grow and all that time he had loved the child like a grandson for he was old enough to be the late king’s father. Grasping at the long-ago memory of love; he nurtured it until he felt the resolute wall of darkness yield the tiniest of a fraction. Opening his heart wide, he fought it drawing on his love for the king and suddenly the blackness was gone shrieking in fear of the light. He felt wonderful, unafraid of the evil before him. He stood as fast as his aged body would allow and faced his recompense for the evil that he had precipitated on his king.

  “Mallastyr tell your masters they have failed! I am no longer under the spell of darkness; I am free of it forever. It is you that has failed this day Mallastyr for I now realize I love the king as a grandsire would,” Syran said passionately.

  “Enough of this drivel Syran your king will remain alive while he is useful to us and just like before he will die of the same mysterious plague that killed his parents and sister. His father became more trouble than he was worth so I eliminated him. Why are you looking at me with that shocked expression? You did not know I killed his family, you really did not know I can see that now,” Mallastyr answered for himself laughing a derisively evil laugh.

  “Mallastyr I truly did not know you killed our beloved king and his family, not that it would have mattered at the time for by then I was too far gone, but now if I could kill you with my bare hands I would,” Syran said angrily.

  “I am
going to make your death as gruesome as I can Syran mainly because I can, but it will be a warning to others not to fail our masters.”

  “Again, Mallastyr they are your masters not mine and it is you that has failed,” Syran, proclaimed bravely. Mallastyr raised his right fist opening it slowly then slowly closing it squeezing Syran's heart in a vise like grip without even touching it. Excruciating pain struck poor Syran dropping him to his knees blood spurting from his ears, nose and mouth then with a sudden closing of Mallastyr hand Syran shuddered falling face forward onto the floor his life ripped from this reality forever.

  King Renaldo Cedric Vanderghast listened quietly next to the door overhearing Mallastyr speaking with Syran his emotions ranged from fear, grief and anger at what Mallastyr had done to his family and now Syran. At first when he overheard that Syran was part of this plot to overthrow him he was deeply hurt then angry with Syran for his part in this until Mallastyr made his second mistake the first being he underestimates the fortitude and abilities of this young king. Now that he knows, who the mastermind is in all of this and Syran was not part of killing his family he would use the grief of losing his entire family and now his beloved adopted grandsire to give him the strength to destroy Mallastyr and stop this threat to the crown and kingdom.