Christopher Kellen - Elegy

Azure fire rolled off Elisa in waves. Any trace of violet was gone from her blazing aura, replaced by the pure blue of the uncorrupted manna font.

Khaine dropped to his knees as Elisa drove her sword further through his body. He choked again, blood spouting from his lips as he opened them.

"It was me," she said, her voice cold as midwinter.

D'Arden met her eyes over Khaine's shoulder, and he gave her a weak, but approving nod.

Cobalt fire burned over Khaine's entire body, rapidly consuming the crimson that tried to fight back. As Khaine toppled over to the ground, Elisa rushed past him and knelt down beside D'Arden.

"I'm going to… die," he gasped.

She stood once more and, with both hands, grabbed the protruding handle of Khaine's curved manna blade, and placed one foot against D'Arden's chest. She pulled with all of her strength, and though D'Arden gave a hoarse cry of agony as she did, the sword scraped free of his breastbone and came away covered in blood and weak curls of blue fire.

Elisa tossed the blade away, where it landed several feet from both them and Khaine.

"Don't die, D'Arden," she said, kneeling down beside him again. "You can't die. I just saved you."

He coughed. He was able to draw on her power once more, but it was too late. He could feel himself beginning to slip away. There was not enough power within him to heal the deadly wound. It was a miracle he had survived this long.

"I'm sorry, Elisa," he whispered. "The Tower is to the north. Go there, and…"

"I'm not going anywhere without you," she said fiercely. With one hand, she reached into his vest and fished about, finally pulling free the heartblade. It glimmered weakly, the corruption having leached the power from it as he lay there.

"There's… not enough," he said.

"Like hell there isn't!" she exclaimed. The heartblade glimmered brighter. "There damn well better be enough here to save you, because I am not leaving without you."

D'Arden watched as the glow of the heartblade slowly changed from the tiny glint of a faded star to a blazing white light nearly worthy of the sun itself. "Elisa…"

How was she doing that? The heartblade could only be recharged on a font…

There was so much he did not understand.

She concentrated on the tiny, needle-like dagger until the light from it was enough to hurt his eyes. Then, without a word, she thrust it into his chest.

The spark from the heartblade leapt into him as though he'd been struck by lightning. His body spasmed and pain flooded him again, but this time it was not the pain of death. It was the pain of life.

Familiar, warming blue flame began to creep through the wounds he'd suffered as the heartblade's power began to knit him back together. It was excruciating, but he could slowly feel life returning. His breathing began to ease until it no longer pained him to draw in air.

"It worked," he said, and the words didn't hurt to speak.

He pulled himself into a sitting position, and looked to the spot where Khaine had fallen. His mentor had vanished, consumed by the pure manna from Elisa's sword and her will. Her blade lay on the cold stone floor, glowing a dull, angry crimson with purpose.

His words, though, echoed in D'Arden's mind.

You, who have only been introduced to the manna within the last few days, have a greater potential than any who have been suppressed by the heartblade…

A cold shudder went through him as Elisa helped him to his feet.

"I think we won," she said softly.

D'Arden stared at her. The natural green of her eyes was completely overtaken by the shining, burning blue of the manna that radiated outward from her. It was almost eerie looking at her, the newest of his Order… and wondering at what unimaginable potential lay behind those eyes.

"I think you're right," he answered after a moment.

Once they had recovered enough to walk, they left the dusty fortress behind them. D’Arden could feel the sudden clarity in the air; the dark swirls of corruption surrounding the fortress had vanished into the void along with Khaine. Even the sun itself seemed to be warmer upon the land. Calessa was still desolate, its streets empty of life, but now people could return to this place.

The sudden clarity alerted D’Arden’s attention to one thing. As his ability to read the flows of manna came to him again, as the fog of corruption lifted, his mind was drawn to a certain place.

There was still evil in Calessa.

He left Elisa to gather the horse from the stable at the inn, and gave her enough coin to purchase a temporary steed for herself. She would be given an acolyte’s horse once they reached the Tower, but his destrier would not be strong enough to carry them the whole way.

Once she was well on to her task, D’Arden told her that he would return shortly. She was not yet experienced enough to read the flows of manna as he was, so she was blissfully unaware of the evil that still remained here. It was not strong, but D’Arden could sense from where it came from in the clarity of the streams even without nearing a manna font.

He had found his demon.

D’Arden was still at only a fraction of his strength, but he had no choice. He had been sent to cleanse the evil from Calessa, and he had every intention of completing his task.

Up the steps and into the soldier’s barracks he went, brushing past the young soldiers standing there without a word. He had wondered why none of these soldiers were older, why so many of them were so young. It hadn’t dawned on him then, but now he knew.

D’Arden strode up to the door of the captain’s chamber and rapped sharply on the door. A voice came from within, bade him enter. He opened the door and stepped inside.

Captain Mor greeted him with a broad smile. “So, Arbiter. You’ve cleansed Calessa of its evil. It must be a great thing, to know that you have achieved such wonders in your short time here, and succeeded where your predecessor did not.”

“You made many mistakes, demon,” D’Arden said calmly. “Many of them I did not recognize when I should have. It is true that I have cleansed Calessa of the corruption, but I have not removed all of the evil from within its walls. Despite what you told me previously, I know that it was you who drove Havox Khaine into the labyrinth beneath the old fortress, who told him of the corruption there. I know it was you who drove him mad beneath that awful place, and turned him into your own avatar of corruption.”

“So, you found me out,” Mor sighed. “I should have expected that this moment would come. Know this, though, before you snuff out my light, Arbiter. Your friend Khaine was mad from the moment he walked through our gates. Something had touched him long before he ever came within my domain. I saw in him a chance to create something great, and so I did. I never expected that there would be someone who would best him. I certainly never expected to be found out by one of your ilk.”

“I don’t believe you,” D’Arden said. “I knew Havox Khaine. He would never have turned into something like that on his own.”

“Believe what you like,” the guard captain – the demon – said with a shrug. “Is it my fault that you cannot realize that even demons can occasionally speak the truth?”

The Arbiter paused. He and Khaine had once battled a demon on a great mountain, who had put up a terrible fight for many days, before simply standing aside and allowing Khaine to destroy it. After that, Khaine had been recalled to the Tower, while D’Arden was sent alone on his journeyman expedition.

Could that have been where it began to go wrong?

“Sometimes, a simple choice – whether or not to destroy an unarmed opponent, regardless of that opponent’s heritage – can be the beginning of the road to madness,” the demon said quietly.