Fatima's Diary

reflections for the lost

53. To Defeat False Gods

Nightmares stalked the arena floor. Powerful Redcaps and Pookas stalked around the bloated mass of dark, seething magical energy. Mounted upon the massive hulk of dark power was the upper torso of what must have once been Baraven Abrantier, now nearly unrecognizable as human, his body and head twisted by the magical energies he weaved with his upthrust hands into the dark pillar. Lights and dark shapes and swirls darted in the mass of energy that was most of his composition. My sight was blocked by the Redcap charge. A haggard and strangely familiar undead charged us, mouth open in a silent howl. We danced.

I took flight in my dance, leaping up into the air, the wear pattern on my vicious morningstar's wooden handle fitting perfectly into my palm. Up and over the Redcaps I flew, and down behind them I hovered, watching for a possibility. Malakon had faced off with one to the side, where the pookas were thick. To his aid I darted, closing the distance between the I and my prey with a swift dive, morningstar held over my head between my beating black bat wings. The cold-wrought iron spikes glistened with dark blood as I pulled them from the back of the Redcap's head, having driven him to his knees with my swift and critical blow. He hung one shoulder low and swung his axe up almost blind, and I darted up, barely outside of its reach. Malakon shouted my name, and took this opportunity to draw his Wand of Cold and release an intense blast of cold in a broad cone shape. When I saw him point the blue-tipped wand in my general direction, I turned and flew into a tight spiral directly up and towards him. Through my soft black boots, my toes felt the intense cold radiate from the blinding blizzard of cold stormy fury. Malakon threw a smile my way and the Pookas and Redcap tumbled forward. And we danced together onto the next foe.

From my peripheral vision, I could see a Redcap and two Pookas struggling through a mass of waving black tentacles, summoned by Labrinnon without a doubt. Directly before me, I saw Malakon's smile turn into a sneer as he whirled from the undead he was killing and attacked Sanantha from behind, cruely wounding her. I shouted to Sanantha in warning, but with another wicked flick of his wrists, he unleashed another Cone of Cold upon the already mortally wounded Sanantha. She slowed and froze in the howling bitter cold; when it abruptly ended, I saw Malakon run by and kick her, shattering from her chest a thick chrunk of ice; he charged toward Labrinnon next.

Horror painted his face as Labrinnon's dispelling settled into his brain and broke the dire charm. With a howl he threw himself amongst the fey and became one with a swirling dance of his blade.

Sanantha was slain again, this time by the hands of one of our own. I took out my frustration in a series of furious blows to the flank of another Redcap. Lobar hewed down the undead, and as I saw it's head roll from it's putrid shoulders, I recognized the tortured face as the fiendish Muldavious.

Singing to myself, I did not notice Whit attack Rihana, as my attention was turned towards Lobar's bellowing. He had raised his axe high above his head, and was readying to hew another stroke down upon Thea, whom he had already knocked to the ground with a devastating blow from behind. I could see blood stream from her mouth and into her beautiful honey-brown hair as she weakly raised her one unbroken arm up to shield herself.

The Else thrummed in my blood already, intending to Strike True upon the pooka I danced with; I beat my wings like a furious Alu-fiend; suddenly Anoriel was in my hand, and the with the Else guiding my wrist, I was driving her keen blade deep into Lobar's chest- I muttered the sigil of command, and the blade hummed while within him. The Axe dropped behind him, and he slid off Anoriel, deep in a cocoon of magical sleep. I checked Thea's pulse, and she still lived. The source of this dire charm had to be destroyed. The source was Arawn.

Crouching over Thea, wings unfurled to provide some cover for her, unwilling to leave her wounded side in the melee, I watched the battle with Arawn unfold as I fought a Redcap. Bramblebeard charged the wretched mass of black power, still streaming it's baneful spiraling column of evil into the dome above. Ashrem and Labrinnon let loose their magical wrath; fireballs blossomed around the twisted torso and head of the now howling Baraven Abrantier; lightning was called from Labrinnon's fingers and stroked through the black mass, muddying it further. Malakon swung and cleaved with his sword, and Bramblebeard struck time and time again with his Spiritual Hammer, called by his faith in his misnamed god. With a resounding, thundering boom, his silvered, ethereal hammer struck Baraven in the forehead, and sundered him. The blackness boiled and the tentacles writhed as if refusing to die, refusing to be shunned and banished from this realm and back to the vile pits from which it had slithered and invaded. There was another loud clap, and the dome broke overhead, unleashing the holy power of Ilâh, ever the steadfast Eye.

Light burned away the darkness and embraced the Creator's children. The fey screamed and faded back as the Otherworld lost it's grip here. With great price we had conquered again; with what a great price.