Part 4
From a distance, Jay watched his twin fight. Ravyn was an excellent swordsman, but he did not have the advantage of a magic weapon that Balen did. However, their leader still suffered from the effects of the enemy commander’s dagger. He shivered from time to time, but gripped his staff tightly and faced Ravyn with a grim expression. Balen was injured, but he was still a formidable opponent.
Jay wondered if his brother truly had their survival in mind or if he wanted control. Ever since he could remember, Ravyn had wanted to dominate others. When they were little, they wrestled as most young boys did. Jay couldn’t ever remember his brother wanting to do anything but win. When Ravyn won, he usually gloated. The few times Jay had beaten his brother, usually by distracting him with some trick he hadn’t expected, Ravyn had taunted him as if he’d lost.
As they both matured, Ravyn was more prone to outbursts of temper. But he couldn’t pick on his brother anymore because Jay had learned how to fight, so he picked on the younger boys. Once, Balen had caught him fighting and made him shovel horse droppings for a week. The punishment worked to an extent, but Ravyn still had a temper. Now he had the chance to gain the power he had always wanted. Jay hoped that his people would not lose their freedom or their lives as the result of his brother’s challenge.
Even though he felt frozen, Balen was determined to win. Sacrificing his people in the name of peace was not an option to consider. Ravyn had good intentions, he thought, but the younger man’s inexperience would be his downfall. The Torgesian sorcerer-king was bent on ruling the world and twisting the Prophecy for his own ends. A man with such intentions could not be trusted.
Ravyn glared at Balen with dark blue eyes like a hawk focusing on its prey. The staff’s magic may have faded. However, he was still a worthy opponent and would not be beaten easily. This battle would determine not only Ravyn’s future, but the destiny of his people and whether they lived or died. This would most likely be the toughest fight of his life. He was prepared to meet that challenge.
There was a long moment of silence as the two challengers faced each other. Then Balen swung his staff. Ravyn blocked it with his sword, pitting his strength against his opponent’s. Balen gripped his staff tightly, sweating as his body temperature rose. No doubt he had a fever, but the illness would have to be ignored. He glared at the younger man, then brought his staff back for another swing.
They parried for what seemed like ages. Steel and wood clashed as the unforgiving sun beat down on them. The staff was nearly indestructible and would not break. It could not be destroyed with an ordinary weapon. That was one advantage of Darkwood. The magic was in the wood itself, not a separate enchantment. Legend had it that the ancients who inhabited the world long before humans, faeries, and dragons created the Darkwood forests themselves. The Darkwood forest was one of their few remaining legacies.
As the combatants battled, time itself seemed to slow. Balen Talbrand deflected one blow after another. Unfortunately, his illness was taking a toll, even though he resisted it. His challenger didn’t even look tired. Sooner or later, one of them would have to fall. With any luck, he would survive this day.
Ravyn noticed his opponent’s exhaustion. The magical dagger that the enemy commander had struck him with must have injured him a great deal. Balen shivered from time to time, and he had staggered more than once during their fight. But his skill and experience had kept him alive. As he raised his sword for another strike, Ravyn wondered how long Balen’s luck would hold out.
Suddenly Balen stumbled. Seeing his chance, Ravyn struck. The blade slashed across his adversary’s chest and the staff clattered to the ground as he fell. Ravyn grabbed the weapon and held it high like a torch. Its magic no longer weakened by the magical cold, the staff burst into flame.
Looking at him through brown eyes clouded with pain, Balen spoke with a raspy voice. “You have beaten me. Now strike the final blow.”
Ravyn glanced around and saw his brother. Jay’s eyes were wide with surprise as he shook his head. “Don’t do it,” he shouted.
“Don’t be a fool, boy,” Commander Firan snarled. “You have won the duel. Kill him.”
Balen closed his eyes, expecting the worst. Then surprisingly, he found himself still breathing a few moments later. He gaped at Ravyn incredulously. The younger man had sheathed his sword and still held the staff.
“I will not do this,” Ravyn said. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You were already injured.”
“That is to be expected on a battlefield,” Balen said. “You won fairly enough. Do not let them take me prisoner. Torture will be worse than death.”
Suddenly they were both surprised by the sight of Neteilu himself approaching. The sorcerer-king stared at Balen wordlessly, then raised his own staff.
“No,” Ravyn shouted and started to defend Balen, but Firan shoved him back.
Neteilu’s staff glowed with emerald light, which surrounded the fallen leader like a shell. Ravyn bashed it with the Darkwood staff. Green sparks flew, forcing him to step back. Then Balen disappeared from view entirely.
“What have you done to him?” Ravyn demanded.
“Come now, is that any way for a lord to speak to his king?”
“I am no lord,” Ravyn replied. “What did you do to him?”
“Peace is what you want, is it not?”
“Of course.”
“Then peace is what you shall have, but you will have to obey my orders. To answer your question, your former leader is being tended to. He will have to answer for his crimes when he recovers from his illness. No longer will the Wanderers be forced to roam through the wilderness, surviving on what they can hunt or gather. Your people will be given the land they have sought for so long. You will gain the title of lord as well, provided you comply with my commands.”
“What do you want?” Ravyn asked.
“I want the girl and her companions, preferably alive.”
Jay frantically shook his head no, but an enemy soldier backhanded him. As he rubbed his sore jaw, Jay sent a fervent prayer to the Gods and hoped that the dragon and his friends would be all right.
Ravyn considered Neteilu’s demand. In the end, the chance to fulfill his people’s hopes and dreams mattered more than a few foreigners. If the Torgesian king wanted them, then he would have them. “Bring Aliya and the others to me,” he shouted.
* * * * *
Aliya looked up at Kip. Her eyes were wide with fear. “Shouldn’t we try to escape? What if they kill us?”
“I have a feeling they will not kill us.”
“What do you mean?”
Kip’s green eyes narrowed as he explained, “Neteilu probably wants to use us, especially you, for his own ends. I’m certain that he will keep us alive.”
Having recovered fully from the shadow’s paralyzing poison, Tanith approached them, followed by her white stallion. “I don’t like this. I’d rather fight my way out. That sorcerer might be powerful, but surely he can’t be invulnerable.”
“Just give me one good shot between his eyes,” Fenrek remarked, raising his bow.
“This is the work of the Prophecy,” Trin said. “The Wanderers may find what they seek, but there will also be betrayal and strife,” she quoted. “We must let destiny run its course, or the Wanderers’ best chance for survival will be lost.”
“What about our chances for survival?” Fenrek inquired as Wanderer guards surrounded them.
“Do not struggle,” Kip advised.
They were escorted to the battlefield. Neteilu gazed at them. “Ah, yes. You are the ones who have caused me so much trouble lately. Especially you, girl.” He scrutinized Aliya closely. She met his gaze boldly. “However, you will vex me no more. I will make certain of that.”
The sorcerer began to chant. Kip realized he was casting a banishing spell, but where exactly they were being banished to, he couldn’t be certain. He glimpsed a jewel in one of the sorcerer’s hands, previously hidden in his robe. The air around them began to shimmer and blur. A moment later, they found themselves falling through the sky.
Quickly, Kip transformed into his dragon form. The others held onto him tightly. As he looked around, he could see nothing but clouds and stars. He looked down but saw no land, only more sky. That was troubling. At least, he had an idea of their location.
“Kip, where are we?” Aliya asked.
“I believe we were banished to the plane of air. The sky lord’s castle should be around here somewhere. With any luck, we’ll find it soon. We should be able to get help there and find our way back.”
“Great,” Fenrek muttered. “At least there are no giant snakes here.”
“True,” Kip replied, “but plenty of other dangers exist. We must remain cautious.”
The gold dragon soared through the sky, keeping an eye out for anything that might be a threat. The Prophecy had brought them here for a reason. He was certain of that. They were sure to find some of the answers they sought. They had to trust in the Prophecy, for if they failed, the world was doomed. Kip and his companions had gotten this far. They had no choice but to succeed.
* * * * *
The End
