Firebrand

Chapter 509: Friend and Foe

Friend and Foe

Either the undead king had determined Martel to be the easiest foe to kill, or else he held particular wrath for those using fire against his servants; regardless, he ran with surprising speed across the hall straight at the battlemage. His hand held the bronze mace ready for a crushing strike.

Controlling his fear, Martel released a lightning bolt. The magical energy crackled as it left his fingertips, surging forward to strike the undead creature. It tore through the fabric of his robe, enveloping itself around his ribcage to make him stop in his tracks, trembling as if his bones threatened to fall apart.

Reasserting himself, the risen king resumed his march towards Martel. With a wall of flames and a horde of skeletons on the other side barring the only way out, the battlemage had limited room to manoeuvre. Martel raised his staff, hoping that his shield spell would work against the bronze mace wielded by his enemy.

Maximilian jumped in front of him, raising his physical shield. "Help her!" he yelled as he took the blow; it came with sufficient force to push him back several steps.

Looking around, Martel saw Eleanor pressed into a corner. Tendrils of smoke came from the jinni, trying to envelop her; she swung the golden-edged dagger constantly to cut them off, leaving her no opportunity to retaliate or fight her way out of her precarious position.

Trusting Maximilian to hold his own, Martel stepped backwards; extricated from the fight with the skeleton king, he turned towards the jinni instead.

***

In the other end of the hall, sorcery of dreadful potency filled the air. They did not fight with elemental or physical powers, with streaks of fire to burn their enemy or striking blows to harm the body. Instead, the last wizards of Archen duelled with magic to turn the mind mad or spells to set the soul ablaze. The maleficar lashed out with her dagger, coated in spellcraft like venom for the spirit; as Atreus leapt into the empty sarcophagus in evasion, she released a spell with her other hand, and he seized up in pain, only to return the favour immediately after, causing her to scream.

***

Conscious of his dwindling spellpower, Martel released an elemental bolt straight into the jinni's back. Floating in the air, the spirit turned around and locked its flaming red eyes on the firemage. With one tendril pushing Eleanor back, the jinni flew towards him. Limbs of shadow engulfed Martel, and he suddenly found it impossible to breathe. As much as he tried, no air came into his lungs.

His mouth frozen in perpetual gasping, Martel could not cry for help either. With the panic of suffocation overtaking him, he reacted on instinct by trying to counter air with earth. From the cobbled floor, a stone flew up into his hand; imbued with his magic, he smashed it against the spirit.

Either his idea was poor or his magic weak; it did nothing. Frozen in panic, Martel's body begged for breath that would not come. The red eyes in the faceless countenance stared down at him as the jinni choked the very life out of him.

***

While Martel and Eleanor battled the jinni, Maximilian stood against the skeleton king. His shield had been destroyed, battered into pieces by the bronze mace; his own hammer, reinforced by gold, had not accomplished anything like that. Still, he laughed each time they exchanged blows.

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The undead monster struck again; this time, its mace met Maximilian's magical shield. Despite the magical symbols that illuminated the weapon, it did not break through his spell, and he took no harm.

"Denied, foul creature!" the mageknight roared in delight, and his own hammer smashed against the skeleton's ribs. Such a blow should have crushed the target, but the magic animating the undead creature seemed to provide its own protection. Another gold coin fell to the ground from the hammer, as the glue loosened from constant use.

***

Eleanor embedded the golden dagger between what would be the shoulder blades of the spirit; a rift opened where its mouth should be, releasing a silent scream while dropping Martel to the ground.

Seeing his friend face down the shadowy creature without fear, Martel took heart; more than that, he saw its shape flicker as the contours became even blurrier. He understood what Atreus had meant in the alley, recognising the spirit to be injured.

Gathering water to him, Martel poured his last spellpower into the magic. A spike of ice formed between his hands before it flew forward to embed itself in the chest of the jinni.

The entire mass of shadow and smoke began to shake violently. Whether needed or not, Eleanor drove her dagger into it once again. Martel felt it in his magical sense as the spirit fell apart, like the stench of burning flesh in his nostrils; finally, the dark shadow disappeared.

***

The last gold fell from Maximilian's hammer, and it was once more an ordinary weapon. Still, he raised it for another blow, as the undead king struck with his bronze mace. This time, no magical shield resisted the attack; it landed to crush Maximilian's left shoulder. Ignoring the pain, his own hammer came, this time against the elbow; magic empowering his attack, Maximilian tore the bones apart at the joint, and the lower arm holding the mace flew through the air.

"Hah! Know death once again, abomination!"

In response, the undead king slashed out with the skeletal claws on his remaining hand. He raked across Maximilian's neck, cutting fabric and drawing blood.

Clasping his free hand against his wounds, the mageknight sneered and made a wild blow, hitting only air. He did not notice the silver coin falling from his neck to the ground, barely making a sound.

From further back, a fire bolt crossed the space to strike the undead. At the same time, Eleanor moved behind and made a cut across the spine with her gold-edged dagger. The skeleton king released the same terrible scream as when he first rose, but this time, it sounded almost mournful. All the same, his body fell to become nothing but a pile of bones on the ground.

Still pressing a hand against his wounds, Maximilian smiled at his friends. "I had that sorted, but if others are to join the fight, better they do it on your side!"

Martel did not pay him attention; he looked towards the other end, where Atreus still battled against the maleficar. Martel knew they had to keep their distance, but perhaps he could strike her with spells from afar; watching Atreus writhe in pain even as he fought on, Martel could not do nothing.

Suddenly, Elena turned her head towards them. Martel's heart pounded, fearing what evil she might unleash on him, but her gaze seemed to pass him by, and she returned her attention on Atreus.

"Maximilian?" Eleanor's voice came behind Martel, and for some reason, hearing it felt like ice poured into his veins. Turning around, he saw one mageknight raise his hammer to strike the other. Raising her shield, Eleanor had to defend against her friend. "Maximilian!" she shouted, but he continued.

Looking at him, Martel saw no light in his eyes, nor signs of any emotion such as anger or fear; nothing to explain why Maximilian had turned on them. Martel could only think of one reason; the maleficar ruled his mind.

A fight erupted between the mageknights, one of them trying to defend herself without hurting the other. Martel dared not intervene. He lacked the physical strength to contend with Maximilian, let alone overpower him; looking at his already bleeding and battered form, Martel feared that any spell or strike to incapacitate him might outright kill his friend. At the same time, if they did not stop Maximilian, his attacks on Eleanor were bound to succeed eventually.

Looking up the hall, Martel stared at the maleficar. He had to get involved; she had to die, and it had to be now.