Chapter Two

Chapter Two - The Zori

Under silver banners at the southern end of the battle, R'ille was ordering troops off the frontlines to address the forest barrier that slowed the retreat. Tall and lithe, with the light of Tiela reflected in her wet, golden locks, she had seen twelve centuries of the Demon Lord's deceptions, but the conjured forest was a new one. "How can we defeat this devilry?" she wondered. Suddenly, something crashed behind her, and R'ille dove for the soggy grass as she went for her Nyakil. Something big had fallen from the sky and just narrowly missed her; it impacted the battlefield so close by that R'ille was splashed with mud and water.

It was a Nil'Ganash. R'ille instinctively brought up her blade to ward off a crushing blow, but none came. She froze in a guarded stance, every muscle as taught as a spring as adrenaline coursed through her veins, readying her to strike. It took several seconds for her brain to process the level of danger. Then, slowly, she exhaled. Her sapphire eyes studied the creature beyond her outstretched sword, and she realized the violet fiend was not standing ready for battle but instead lay crumpled in the mud. Whatever evil life the twisted body contained was now gone.

"How--"and then she saw them. Silver fletching from two black shafts protruded from the Nil'Ganash's chest. "Illuminar arrows," she noted aloud with satisfaction. R'ille knew now that the Nil'Ganash hadn't died upon impact. It was dead before it ever hit the ground.

Almost immediately, the carcass began to smoke as the creature dissolved into a pile of ashes. An acrid, sulfurous smell wafted to her nostrils amidst the swirling rain, but R'ille brushed it away. She stooped and dared to reach into the smoldering pile of clothes. A moment later she brought out the two black arrows; their shafts had broken, probably on impact. She looked carefully at the silver scrollwork on them and gasped, recognizing Brinn's mark. As she rose from the pile and stowed the broken arrows in her quiver, she looked northward for her husband's emerald banners. Her thoughts went out to him. "By the luck of the Creator, husband! You brought down a Nil'Ganash!"

A sudden shot of liquid fire streaked by R'ille's head, and she returned her attention to the battle at hand. Fighting raged all around her, though the combatants seemed to be giving a wide berth to the place where the Nil'Ganash had fallen. As she brought up her sword to renew her part in the fight, she heard her Kalláh.

Look at the Nil'Ganash.

She glanced again at the pile of smoldering clothes and something else caught her eye. On the ground was a strange wand. It was brown with green undulations, as if leaves were falling on brown earth. A sudden jolt of pain coursed through her hand when she picked it up; she almost dropped it. She quickly stowed it in her cloak, afraid of what she might have found.

R'ille rejoined the fight, dispatching wolf-riders and goblins in merciless fashion with her black Nyakil. Between blows, she directed her troops to bend their defensive line westward toward the edge of the trees, which formed the southern end of a great half-circle around the remaining Illuminar. "Join with the gold banners," she commanded the troops at the northern end. The gold flags were nearer now, marking the center division of the defensive line. Beyond were the emerald flags of her husband. She recognized from the close grouping of the three colors that the tight defensive arc they had formed was collapsing inward toward the center.

Suddenly, her Kalláh screamed again.

The enemy's weapon; you must use it!

She ignored the voice and looked for Brinn.

"Aieee!"

R'ille turned at the howl and saw that one of her troops was engulfed in flame. The soldier fought bravely, but he couldn't put out the fire. The scene was grisly. His clothes seemed to fuse to skin that bubbled and blackened as it disintegrated into a charred mess. His immortal body tried to regenerate new skin to replace his burned flesh, but the pain of the blaze was more than he could bear and he succumbed at last.

R'ille turned away, horrified, and then remembered that a similar shot of flame had narrowly missed her just moments before. She realized burning blasts were raining down all around her. She looked up into the wet sky expecting to find a gargoyle shooting flaming arrows but saw something else instead. There was a Nil'Ganash flapping above her--directly over the spot where the other had dropped from the sky only moments before. He had some sort of small weapon in his hands. R'ille guessed that he was searching for his fallen kin and, arriving too late, was now trying to exact revenge for the loss of his comrade. He gestured with whatever it was he held and a bolt of fire shot from it. Another Illuminar soldier burst into flame.

"Lucifer's breath," R'ille cursed. "He wields Arazor, the wand of Fire!" She felt for the green wand stored in her cloak. "That means this, too, is a wand of Power. But which one?"

Another wave of goblins charged. R'ille drove her blade through a wart-faced leader, but her main concern was still the Nil'Ganash. "The enemy is using a wand of the Elements against us. What next? Each time we think we've defeated what they throw at us, a more terrible attack takes its place." She dodged another fiery bolt from the sky and swung at the head of a nearby wolf. "Goblins, wolf-riders, gargoyles with burning arrows, and now we face a Nil'Ganash using the wand of Fire," she said with dismay. She lunged at the wolf-rider falling from his headless steed. He thrust his spear at her heart but she turned it aside and cleaved into his neck, sending him to hell.

"Earth, Fire, Air and Water!" she cursed. "The Zori, the four Wands, are perverting the elements to be used for ill by the servants of the Demon Lord!"

She suddenly thought of the forest that blocked their retreat. "Of course! It's probably the work of Illinzor, the wand of Earth!" Her Kalláh confirmed it.

Another charging wolf-rider jabbed at her, but she sliced the shaft of the spear in two and dodged the wolf mount as it rushed passed and ran straight into the swords of the Illuminar behind her. A blast of fire struck the ground where she had been standing just seconds earlier. "The wand of Fire and the wand of Earth--at least two wands were being used against us," she surmised. Another goblin fell with a cloven head. R'ille guessed as she wrenched out her sword that, more likely, all four Zori were in use. She brushed the constant rain from her eyes and cursed the torrential downpour. "The work of Zor-Nîm, the wand of Water, I'm sure of it."

R'ille knew that the Nil'Ganash, high priests of the Demon Lord, were the wielders of the Zori, the wands of Power. They roamed far and wide across the great lands of her realm and beyond, past the lands of the Avanyar and into the unexplored regions of the world. They spread terror and fear everywhere they went, feasting on the blood of their victims. "But never before have so many Nil'Ganash gathered at one time," R'ille said with a start. "And I have never heard of all four Zori being used in one battle!" She ducked a swipe by a goblin blade and leapt aside as its wielder burst into flame from a direct hit of fire meant for her. "In fact, before today, Illinzor had only been a rumor. No one had ever actually seen the wand of Earth in use!"

R'ille continued to battle as she weighed what this meant. "Are all four wands being used against us?" she asked her Kalláh.

No. Not any longer.

"How many are still in use against us?"

Two.

"Which one do I hold in my cloak?"

You hold Illinzor, the wand of Earth.

The reply was short and frightening. "What do I do with it?" She wondered aloud. "How has it come to this?"

"We were fools."

The voice came from Reyna, fighting next to her. "You know the answer to that question, R’ille," she said flatly. "We basked in peace and prosperity for years assuming the enemy vanquished forever. While we feasted and slept for millennia, the Demon rebuilt his hordes in secret. Your brother, the king, should have destroyed the Demon Lord when he had the chance."

"Well, he didn’t, and it cost him his life," R’ille said gravely. She looked over her people and knew Reyna was right.

"Look what we’ve become," Reyna continued, hewing the legs from a lunging goblin. "We were the most powerful and prosperous race in the world; now we’re a retreating rabble of mere thousands."

"Reyna—"

"We lived in magnificent castles surrounded by thriving cities and tilled fields; now we cower in wool tents."

"Enough! There’s no use in crying over our lot," R’ille said as she ducked a spear from a wolf-rider. "You’re only going to get yourself killed." While R’ille cut down the wolf, Reyna dispatched the thrower, adding emphasis to her thrust through the brute’s dirty jerkin to indicate she disagreed with R’ille’s last comment.

R’ille returned only a smirk; after all, Reyna was right. We all hate the Demon Lord for what he has done. When would it all end? The first doubts of survival crept into R’ille’s mind. She wondered if their plan to retreat to a hidden sanctuary wasn’t suicide. She, after all, was the one who volunteered that plan.

Reyna dispatched a hairy goblin. "Do you doubt the voice of your Kalláh?" she asked, seeing the look that clouded R'ille's face.

R’ille just shrugged. It was her Kalláh that had suggested the retreat to Illianor. "No, Reyna, I do not doubt it. Had we stayed, we would have suffered certain defeat." She cut down another wolf-rider.

"You know where I stood on this decision," Reyna argued. "Retreating to Illianor meant abandoning our allies the Avanyar."

R’ille disagreed. "We had no choice. What help are we to our friends if we are extinct? To escape to Illianor is our, and their, only hope."

R'ille fought on in silence. Would they even reach Illianor alive? Her doubt grew stronger. Trust the Creator, she told herself. She dismissed her negative thoughts with a silent prayer to Ár-Ádun.

A nearby goblin carrying a smoky torch and a curved scimitar laughed as he saw two more Illuminar combatants set ablaze by fiery blasts from the Nil'Ganash. His wicked grin remained on his face as his head rolled to the charred grass, separated from his body by a blinding swipe of R’ille’s blade. The goblin body fell forward with a lurch, and R'ille, without realizing it, grabbed the torch from the dead thing's hand as it fell. Her Kalláh gave a command.

Use the torch.

R'ille was the last of her kind with the gift of hearing the Kalláh, which the Illuminar called 'the inner voice'. It was a gift of the Creator, meant to guide them with truth. She prepared to wield the torch as her Kalláh commanded. She didn't know exactly what she was supposed to do, but she knew further guidance would come.

"What are you doing?" Reyna asked between sword strokes, ducking a fiery blast from the Nil'Ganash above. Reyna had seen R'ille pick up the goblin torch.

"Following my Kalláh," R'ille answered.

An arrow of flame will bring down the Nil'Ganash.

The command didn't make sense. Only a Nyakil or a weapon of silver would kill a Nil'Ganash. The fiend overhead was out of reach of her black sword and she didn't have any arrows. "An arrow of flame will not kill a Nil'Ganash," she stated matter-of-factly. Her response to her Kalláh sounded like doubt, but her actions indicated no such thing. She was only stating the facts as she knew them, accepting that her Kalláh knew much more. Without hesitation she set down the torch and sheathed her sword, preparing to follow the guidance to come.

Reyna raced to R'ille's side to protect her, wondering what R'ille's Kalláh was commanding. R'ille removed her longbow from her back.

Find a fallen gargoyle.

R'ille removed her longbow from her back. Near her, among fallen enemy and Illuminar alike, R'ille spied a dying gargoyle lying crumbled and broken with an arrow protruding from one eye. She rushed to it and pulled the arrow out, but its point was only sharpened iron, not tipped with silver filigree like those reserved for the Nil'Ganash. She cast it aside, turned the creature over, and from the dying thing's quiver drew out one of its oily, rag-tipped arrows. With a last gasp, the gargoyle died, and its body dissolved to powdery stone. Returning to the torch on the ground, she held the tip of the arrow in the flame and set it ablaze. Nocking it, she took aim at the Nil'Ganash and let fly.

For the third time in the battle, a Nil'Ganash fell to the field. This time, though, the thing lived. The arrow had only caught his clothes on fire. He thrashed about trying to quench the flames as he plummeted in a fiery freefall. He finally gave up and fiercely pumped his wings to arrest his fiery descent. He landed in a crouch, then rose up and stood before R'ille and Reyna, snarling as he ripped off his burning cloak and black leather armor. The flaming garments fell to the ground, and the fiend stood half naked before the two revealing a violet chest that was rippled and muscular. His fanged incisors glistened in the wet air. He was Hood.

"Baz ach ara, Gathân," he cursed, seeing the bow in R'ille's hand and the torch at her feet. Burn with fire, Illuminar.

R'ille recognized the words even as the Kalláh translated, for all Illuminar knew the Demon Lord's tongue though they did not utter it aloud. She answered him in her own language, her fierce blue eyes blazing. "Illindul no'or a niodin hennet, Nil'Ganash." Looks like you are the one who's burning, Nil'Ganash.

The fiend knew enough Illuminar to get the message. He regarded with disdain the two Illuminar who bravely stood in challenge before him. "Shûan azh Arazor," he chanted menacingly, aiming the wand of Fire at R'ille's chest. Die from Arazor.

R'ille dropped her bow and drew her Nyakil, but before she could do anything else, Reyna rushed the fiend.

"Ara laset," Hood sneered. Fire comes.

Reyna was almost to the Nil'Ganash, Nyakil high in her raised hand. The violet fiend's next words were the last she ever heard.

"Shûan ach Shaitan Ara!" Die from Satan's fire!

Reyna erupted in a blaze of molten flame and fell to the earth just a yard from her enemy. Dropping her blade, she clenched her fists but made not a sound as the light of immortality in her eyes went out.

R'ille was shocked by the sudden, violent death of a friend who had lived for almost two thousand years. She stood frozen in place, staring at the charred flesh of her comrade.

The Nil'Ganash repeated his curse. "Shûan ach Shaitan Ara."

R'ille grew angry. Enough of this, she thought to herself. She looked at the purple fiend. "Ni alán mier no," she said, answering his curse. I do not fear you.

The Nil'Ganash laughed at her and began waving the wand above his head, preparing to strike. "Arazor zan kurash na, izzal!" Arazor will kill you, slave.

She felt for the pouch at her side, but it was empty. All of her Limnos spheres were gone. Louder than the voice of the Nil'Ganash was the voice R'ille heard in her head; the voice of her Kalláh.

Run!

She hesitated. "I cannot let this Nil'Ganash go free."

Defend yourself with your Nyakil, but you must flee!

Before her Kalláh could finish, a blast of red fire shot from the Nil'Ganash's wand. R'ille reacted instinctively, bringing her Nyakil up to ward off the blow. The blast struck the sword like the crack of a lightning bolt, but the blade seemed to absorb the energy of the spell. It glowed for an instant, sizzling as the raindrops hitting it were vaporized, and then the blade faded to its normal black.

Run; your blade will not survive this magic for long!

Hood stepped forward with a grimace, his yellow fangs bared in a display of hatred for his mortal enemy. He had never before seen an attack by Arazor turned back. Undaunted, he gestured again, and another blast of fire hurtled toward R'ille.

"Shûan!" Die!

R'ille dove out of the way to avoid the killing shot but was not fast enough to escape it entirely. The fiery streak grazed her as it passed to explode on the wet prairie behind her. She winced aloud in pain at the blistering streak that it left on the back of her hand. She rolled back to her feet and changed tactics, charging the Nil'Ganash in the hope of getting too close for him to be able to use his wand again. Another bolt of fire came, which she caught with the blade of her Nyakil. The crack as it struck the blade was deafening, and the blade glowed longer this time. R'ille was knocked from her feet. Hood cautiously moved toward her, thinking the fight was over.

R'ille couldn't breathe. She lay sprawled upon the field, her face just inches from the dark, charred face of Reyna's corpse. Then, her left hand felt something hard, and R'ille realized it was Reyna's Nyakil. It gave her an idea. Abandoning her previous plan, she scrambled to her feet--grabbing Reyna's sword as she did so--and turned and ran from the Nil'Ganash, dodging more of his fiery bolts as she fled. The blister on her hand started to heal but was taking much longer than she was used to, and it still burned. "Curse that unholy fire," she spat between breaths. She looked back as she ran: the Nil'Ganash was not far behind.

R'ille was pushed westward by Hood, who repeatedly fired blasts from his red wand. R'ille ran in an erratic, zigzag pattern to avoid the molten missiles, but was driven away from the front line of the fighting and back through the throng of her kin, until she found herself pinned against the impassable snarl of trees. Several more times she stopped fiery shots with the two swords, and now the weapons glowed with a redness that did not fade.

Sometimes Hood's fire bolts found other Illuminar, who went down in agonizing screams. Sometimes his missiles found those on his own side, but he simply tossed aside the burning troll and wolf carcasses he torched by mistake and continued to pursue the Illuminar that defied him. He chased R'ille with a blind hatred, ignoring the other Illuminar through which he moved. He could have taken many of them down as they ducked aside in fear, but right now he only wanted one.

Finally, the last of the Illuminar host parted before the oncoming Nil'Ganash; Hood found nothing between him and his quarry. "Cathâ zanna pesh, izzal?" Now where will you run, slave?

R'ille had stumbled over an exposed root and lay at the foot of the wicked forest, unable to rise before Hood was upon her.

Hood stopped, but instead of sending another blast directly at her, he began to wave Arazor in a curious circular motion above his head.

"Cath na shûan," the Nil'Ganash snarled with a wicked smile. Now you die.

As R'ille rose to her knees to defend herself, a blaze of fire erupted from Hood's raised wand, but instead of shooting towards her, the blast rocketed upward and began to circle and swirl overhead, growing larger and larger until it became a ball of seething fire. It hovered above both predator and prey, burning like a tiny sun.

"Cath na shûan," the Nil'Ganash snarled again, and he drew back the wand to cast the ball of fire onto R'ille.

With the two outstretched Nyakils glowing red before her, R'ille awaited the blow. She did not fear death; she felt only remorse at the thought of leaving the land where—for two thousand years—she had walked, and lived, and loved. She wished she would have the chance to say goodbye to her beloved Brinn. Then, suddenly, R'ille saw him. Brinn! Appearing out of nowhere as if by magic, he was suddenly there, standing directly behind the Nil'Ganash. R'ille was confused at first, for Brinn seemed to be ignoring the threat that loomed over her. He stood unmoving, as still as a statue, eyes locked with hers. Time seemed to stand still.

"Help me, beloved," she whispered.

He didn't move.

A blood-curdling scream arose from the edge of the wild forest. It echoed through the Illuminar remnant and coursed out over the field of battle. Both Immortal warrior and enemy alike paused in the midst of their warring, startled by that anguished cry. R'ille's eyes snapped from her husband's face to the source of the scream. She was shocked. It was coming from the Nil'Ganash looming over her. Her eyes saw the quivering black lips. Her ears hurt from the sound.

Movement from his chest caught her attention; she dropped her gaze and discovered the reason for his tormented cry. She stared wide-eyed as a Nyakil blade pushed outward a full three feet from the Nil'Ganash's chest. The violet-winged fiend still held Arazor up in his right hand, but grabbed at the black blade with his left in an attempt to stop its outward movement. R'ille's eyes went back to those of the Nil'Ganash, and he held her gaze for a moment before his purple orbs rolled back in their sockets and he fell forward upon his face. The red wand tumbled from his grasp and landed at R'ille's feet. She looked up from it to see Brinn pulling Yllirin free from the back of the Nil'Ganash.

"Sorry I'm late, R'ille," Brinn said, smiling at her. "I got here as quickly as I could."

R'ille burst into tears. "Oh, Brinn," she stammered, the usual strength in her words lost for a moment in the relief at Brinn's arrival. The roar of the fireball conjured by the Nil'Ganash moments before still hovered above them, drowning out her words. "You're just in time," she shouted with a laugh, wiping away the tears. She realized, then, why Brinn had seemed to unwilling or unable to help her a moment ago: It had only been an illusion; a trick of her mind, freezing the moment of her impending doom in reaction to facing the finality of death.

That fate, she escaped.

Her rescuer came and hugged her and R'ille quickly recovered her composure. Other Illuminar began to gather, avoiding the spot where the dead Nil'Ganash smoked and turned to dust. There was little time for a reunion between Brinn and R'ille however; they needed to deal with the huge conflagration that still swirled just above their heads.

You must use the enemy's weapons.

R'ille knelt and picked up the reddish wand at her feet, feeling for the second time a jolt of evil power run through her. The wand was strangely heavy and was covered with arcane symbols and demonic runes.

You must use the enemy's weapons.

She studied the thing that had very nearly caused her death. Instead of fearing it, she began to find her faith being restored. Her hair clung to her face in the torrential rain, but her fierce blue eyes were undimmed. She had faced death and lived. She began to conceive a plan. She wasn't sure if it was what her Kalláh meant, but, trusting the voice, she decided to act.

Brinn stared at the red wand in R'ille's hand with a questioning look. He looked from it to her, and watched as she held it up and studied it. He knew that look. She was going to try to use the wand!