Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“If you two are merely going to stay protected and wait for me to die,” cackled Vand, “you should be aware that I will never die. I am a god. I do not even require food or water. A waiting game is not in your best interests. No one will enter or leave this room until I allow it. Drop the shield, Star of Sakova. You cannot cast against me while you hide within it, and that demon will decompose soon. Enough, Torak, come show me the spells that your mother taught you.”

Rejji froze. He knew that he could not reach the safety of the demon’s body before Vand struck him down, but strangely, the Motangan Emperor ignored him.

“Come stand before me and receive my judgment,” Vand said to Lyra and Marak.

“You are finished, Vand,” retorted Lyra. “The armies you sent to the Sakova and Khadora are defeated, as is the army sent to find Angragar. Your army of the dead is imprisoned, and your hellsouls are being decapitated as we speak. Your demons are dead, and Pakar and his mages are as well. It is you who should kneel and beg Kaltara for forgiveness.”

“Beg Kaltara?” Vand balked. “What a ludicrous thought. The armies that I sent out were expendable, as were the demons. They are not what this battle is about. Those were just things to keep you occupied and to make sure that you arrived here for this confrontation. It is this meeting that will decide the future of this world, and nothing else matters. I have waited thousands of years for the Torak to be born, just so I could defeat him, and I will defeat him. There is nothing that Kaltara can do to interfere.”

“I don’t believe you,” countered the Star of Sakova. “We have beat you on every other field of battle, and we will beat you here today.”

Vand laughed wickedly. “You are a feisty one, Star of Sakova,” he chuckled. “I shall enjoy watching you suffer.”

“You will have to kill me first,” declared Marak. “It is me that you are after. Grab a sword and let us fight this like men.”

“You, Torak,” sneered Vand as he flicked his wrist towards Marak, “are nothing.”

Marak was suddenly lifted off the floor and magically shoved backward until he struck the wall. He stuck to the wall, a pace above the floor, as if held by a huge invisible hand. Marak struggled, but he could not move.

“It disturbs me that Kaltara made me wait thousands of years and then presented me such a feeble challenger,” Vand shook his head with disgust. “I could kill you right now, but your god must learn to respect my powers. First I will dispose of the Star of Sakova. You will be able to watch and wonder what your own death will feel like.”

Marak gritted his teeth and tried to force himself away from the wall, but he could not move.

“I well know the powers of each of you,” Vand continued, “and you are no match for me. That is what you get for following a fool of a god. Kaltara endowed you with powers that could have defeated me two thousand years ago, but I am not the same person I was then. I have grown with Dobuk’s help. Try me, Torak.”

Vand flicked his wrist again, and Marak tumbled to the floor, the invisible hand no longer restraining him. The Torak did not hesitate. He nodded to Lyra and then charged towards Vand with the Sword of Torak held before him. Lyra dropped her spell that maintained the blue cylinder and brought her fists together, pointing at Vand. A tremendous surge of power shot from Lyra’s fists and headed for Vand while Marak jumped over the table and prepared to sever Vand’s head.

Vand merely grinned at the dual attack. With a slight wave of his hand, a dozen demons suddenly appeared between Vand and the Torak. Lyra’s force bolt reached Vand and instantly disappeared. Her mouth hung open in awe when she saw that there was no outline of a shield shown by the dissipating spell.

Marak faltered and halted his advance to battle the first of the demons. He acted as if he planned to run right past the demon, but at the last minute he pivoted and slashed out at the creature’s leg. The sword slashed clear through the image, and the Torak realized that he was attacking illusions. Lyra tossed a light blade at Vand and immediately summoned her blue cylinder. She watched as the light blade disappeared, again showing no trace of a shield around Vand. Vand cackled and slapped his hand on his thigh.

“That was clever,” the disciple of Dobuk chuckled, “but rather ineffective, wouldn’t you say?”

Vand flicked his wrist again and an invisible force once again shoved Marak backwards. His body struck the table as he flew across the room. With a bone-jarring thud, Marak and the table hit the wall. The legs of the table splintered from the impact as Marak was again held flat against the wall above the floor. A searing pain shot through his back, and he could feel the table between him and the wall. The three chairs smashed into Marak’s legs and splintered from the impact. The Torak howled in pain.

Vand released the spell and Marak tumbled to the floor along with the wooden debris from the crushed chairs and table legs. The room suddenly roared and shook violently. As Lyra watched, a great fissure opened up in the floor between her and Vand. On one side of the fissure were Vand and Rejji. Across the chasm, Marak and Lyra stared in awe at Vand.

“Feel free to throw your body into the crevice, Torak,” laughed Vand. “I guarantee it will be the easiest way out for you.”

Marak groaned with pain, but he rose unsteadily and picked up a piece of a smashed table leg. He walked slowly towards the fissure and tossed the piece of wood into it. The mangled table leg dropped soundlessly into the blackness. Marak frowned as he had expected another illusion or at least to see the lower levels of the temple, but there was nothing but darkness within the crevice.

All this time, Rejji stood motionless, trying to figure out why he was chosen to be in a battle with three powerful people. If Marak’s strength and agility could not best Vand, and Lyra’s magic had no effect, what could he possibly do? The absurdity of his being in the throne room at that moment hit the Astor hard. He looked over at Marak, who appeared to be in great pain, and then at Lyra standing erect within her blue cylinder. He knew that she could not cast out of the safety that the cylinder provided her, so her magic was useless. He shook his head in exasperation.

“What am I supposed to do here?” he shouted to Marak.

Vand laughed and turned his gaze on the Astor. “You are supposed to watch your friends die,” he responded. “When they are defeated, I will offer you power greater than anything you could possibly imagine. For now, all you have to do is stand and observe.”

“I will never serve you,” Rejji blurted out, “nor will I stand idly by and watch Lyra and Marak be killed.”

Vand’s face instantly turned dark as he glared at the Astor. His arms trembled with rage, and he pointed one lone finger at Rejji.

“Move!” shouted Marak.

Rejji dove to the floor and rolled into a ball as Marak had taught him. A large explosion rocked the room as stone tiles shattered, and bits of stone sprayed in every direction. Where Rejji had stood not a moment before, there was a large crater in the tile floor, and dust hanging in the air. Rejji stared at the crater and then locked eyes with Vand. The disciple of Dobuk appeared to be composing himself, and he purposely looked away from the Astor.

Marak frowned at Vand’s actions. The Motangan Emperor appeared to have lost control for a moment, but more importantly, he showed that he did not intend to kill Rejji. The Torak turned and slowly walked back towards Lyra until he stood alongside the Star of Sakova.

“What is going on?” Lyra whispered to Marak.

“I am not sure,” admitted the Torak, “but we have just seen a clue into how to defeat Vand. Now we must understand what it is that we saw.”