The Falling Castle Sequence
by Michael Battaglia
INTRODUCTION:
This was a story, about thirty-three chapters or so, that I wrote back in, oh God, 2000 or so, with the intent of explaining why I had no magic in my continuity (i.e. why I never stayed with SF-esque stories). It stars Tristian and the Agents and a bunch of people I made up for the story. It’s probably my only stab at pure fantasy and at best probably highlights why I shouldn’t write fantasy stories. This bit is from the middle of it, roughly, comprising about three chapters. Continue at your peril.
WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE:
Wishing to experience magic, Tristian has been taken to another world by the Agents. Upon landing, they rescued Johan, a craftsman, and were taken back to his village, where they met his wife, Mari. The village was suddenly attacked by a small band of beast-like creatures and Tristian pitched in to help. During the course of the battle Mari was killed and Agent Two vanished. Since then, Agent One has taken Tristian and Johan to Cloudion, the seat of the king and a castle in the sky. His goal is to warn the king that a great evil is heading their way. While the king muses over this with the Agent, Tristian is assigned a castle mage, Michelle, as a guide. But during a tour of the castle, it seems that the evil they feared was coming has already arrived . . .
End Introduction/What Has Gone Before
Begin section 1
There was a shout from down the hall, around the corner.
"Tristian! Michelle! Get over here!" It was Johan.
And again Tristian was in motion, even before Johan had stopped shouting. He was running at impossibly fast speeds, well within the limits of the speed of a man but still almost a blur. The power of the Magents. It rubbed on him and made him like them. Or was he? Michelle didn't know, but she took off after him anyway, not used to running, especially with her robes. She lagged behind but didn't want to teleport. It always took a lot out of her.
When she got there, it was already over. Johan was standing there with his new shirt in his hand, and Tristian was leaning over something. A body. She could see blood pooling on the floor, the copper stench, not red like magic though. Red like death. It was laid out on the floor, a guard, in armor.
"I was coming back and . . . I saw this thing standing over the guard, this black thing with glowing eyes and it just stared at me and it . . . it was evil, I could feel it . . . and then . . . it just vanished." His voice was numb. "He was dead by the time I reached him. I went to grab for my sword but it . . . it wasn't there. Would it have done any good?" The man was almost babbling in fright. Tristian on the other hand was completely calm. Michelle felt herself falling into a neat center between the two of them.
"It wouldn't have done much . . ." Tristian told Johan and his voice sounded old. "In fact you probably would have gotten killed." He stood up now and Michelle could see the body on the floor. She remembered the guard, having passed him many times in the hallway, always exchanging pleasantries. She never knew his name. Never would know his name. It was easy to see how he had died though; there was a gaping, sucking hole in his chest, blood seeping from that. It had gone right through his armor. It was perfectly circular. There were no other marks on his body. But with a wound like that, there was no need for any others.
Tristian's hand was straying near his belt for some reason, but she couldn't understand why.
But in a voice that almost rumbled, he said to her, "Michelle, get us to the throne room. Now."
She was already gathering the energy to do that, feeling herself opening to the world, all her perceptions colored in blue. "Tristian, what's going on?"
"Just do it!" he nearly snarled at her and then they were gone, the world becoming blue everything, the sky turning upside down and imploding.
The world resolved itself again and drained itself of blue. They were in the throne room again. In the throne room and staggering, she was. They were staring at her, everyone in the room. The king and queen were there, as usual and the Magent was standing before them. He seemed to be saying something. But weren't they supposed to be in the king's rooms. How had Tristian known where the Magent was? Or had he just guessed? Her head was spinning from the teleportation and she knew half her questions would slide out of her head once she stopped being dizzy. But she wanted to grab them and keep them there because she felt they were important.
"Agent!" Tristian yelled, or that's what it sounded like but the name was so foreign to her confused ears. The Magent turned to stare at Tristian with thin annoyance. "Something is happening, I know who's behind everything! We have to hurry to stop them!"
"We have plenty of time," the Magent said, his voice utterly calm. "At least fifteen seconds or so. Then things will start making more sense. Which will be a definite relief, if you ask me."
There was a piercing, gurgling scream from the other side of the room, cut off right at the climax.
"Ah," the Magent smirked, and Michelle found that look absolutely frightening as it was bland, "right on time. Don't you love it when everything runs according to schedule? Hm?"
Tristian shifted his gaze over to the other end of the room, already feeling a chill running down his spine and knowing exactly what that meant. One of the guards at the end of the room with the double doors was clutching his chest. Something glowing was sticking out from it. All around the room life was moving in slow motion as all the other guards was brandishing their weapons and getting ready to run at their comrade. The air was filled with the clanging of metal on metal and the slithering of steel from leather sheathes. Tristian felt that he was starting to fall into a concerted tunnel of madness.
The glow vanished from the guard's chest and he toppled to the floor, slowly, still in slow time. The expression on his face was eternity; his chest sported the same hole as the first guard. How many guards around the castle were experiencing the same thing?
Guards were now running at their fallen friend. Something was shifting in the darkness. Something with eyes like embers. Yellow and evil.
A crimson shield sprang up around the fallen guard suddenly, and all the other guards skidded to a halt before running into it. The shield cast a reddish light over all their faces, reflecting off their mirrored armor, giving them the look of an army watching the sunset on the last day.
"Nobody move," Agent One said, still in his calm voice. Either he knew something Tristian didn't or he had gone completely mad. Tristian didn't know if he'd be able to tell. Johan was near him, looking pale but slowly regaining his composure. At some point he had put his shirt back on, and Tristian could see his eyes scanning around for a free weapon. He expected a fight and didn't want to stay out of it. Perhaps because he wanted to die, perhaps because he wanted to live. Tristian didn't know. Michelle was swaying on her feet, her eyes slightly unfocused, probably only half aware of what was going on around her. The strain of teleportation, Tristian figured, it wasn't easy for normal people to do, he was sure. But she did it without hesitation, when the need arose. That was good to know.
She swayed again, almost swooning and Tristian had reached out to support her before he even knew what he was doing. She leaned against him easily, and then shook her head and stood on her own.
"Be fine in a moment . . ." she muttered, her eyes trying to focus on the other end of the room. A figure was stepping from the shadows, it seemed, though between the darkness and the crimson flickering, he couldn't tell. The Agent was just standing there, not moving, his hands clasped behind his back.
"You might as well come out now," Agent One was saying, "or I'll just force the shield tighter and you'll have to go back where you came from."
"Which will accomplish nothing," came the voice and Tristian felt that chill down his back again. Only one thing could cause that, though he didn't know why. The Agent had never really explained it properly to him. "I can be sent back just as easily."
"Oh, I know," Agent One replied with a smile, "but it'll take a small bit of time and I think rather fast. I'm sure I can come up with something even more creative to stop you when you poke your ugly face in here again."
"Have to see through the red . . ." Michelle was saying to herself, though Tristian didn't know what she meant. Then she stiffened against him and her eyes went wide. "Oh my . . . it's black . . ."
"What do you mean?" he asked her, even though he knew that she was only seeing what he saw in his worst nightmares.
She stared at him with eyes filled with fear. "It's totally black, not even a void, just . . . black . . . I've never seen anything like . . ." and then she looked back at the other end of the room and gasped.
For it had come out of the shadows.
It still looked the same as always. About six foot tall, dressed in armor that fit its slim form perfectly. What dwelt beneath the armor, he had no idea. The face was angular and he suspected it was part of the armor as well. The eyes were yellow slits, glowing and burning. He had never seen a mouth. One hand was normal, while the other was a two-pronged fork like construct. A sheath rested on its belt, while a cape as black as night wrapped the entire figure. It moved out with sublime grace, pacing around the body of the dead guard, pacing around its cage like an animal just biding its time until it was released.
"Dark Rider," he felt himself mouth the two words he hated to hear. The eyes scanned the room and seemed to find him, pin him and blink in recognition. It inclined its head, slightly, in a gesture meant only for Tristian.
"Not just any Dark Rider," Agent One said in a too cheerful voice, "but the grand ol' Dark Lord himself." Agent One gave a mocking bow, but when he stood up fully his face was serious. "Why can't you just enter through the door like any respectable visitor?" Then he slapped his forehead in another mocking gesture. "Oh wait that's because you're anything but."
The Dark Lord stared at the Agent impassively. His hands were at his sides, and he appeared to be completely docile. The shield crackled around him, blinking and flickering, almost daring him to try and step through it.
"We have your brethren, Magent," and Tristian noticed that the Dark Lord called him by the other name. "You shall be next."
"No," Tristian whispered, realizing what that meant. If the Dark Riders had Agent Two then that meant he was in the hands of only one being.
Agent One smiled again, baring his teeth. "Come and get me."
The king suddenly seemed to remember that he was technically in charge and decided to exert some authority. "Magent, what is going on here? What is this creature that you've trapped? We demand some answers."
"Answers," Agent One said plainly, turning to face the king. "Very well then, what we have here is the leader of a race known collectively as the Dark Riders. Being the leader, he's commonly known as the Dark Lord. Currently the Dark Riders have my brother, a fact I imagine they figure is supposed to scare me, which it doesn't."
"I have heard his screaming, Magent, all the way from the dark castle itself. He screams loud and long, not even stopping to draw a breath. The only thing louder is my master's laughter, Magent, and he'll laugh twice as hard when he-"
"Shut up," Agent One whispered and the shield flickered and flashed. There was the smell of something burning in the air and the Dark Lord gave a strangled yell and staggered back. Smoke was rising from his body and leaking through the shield. The other guards all took a collective step back.
"Which brings me to another good point. I'm sure your master is around somewhere and even though he doesn't care about you at all, if I start hurting you he'll show up just to save face and pretend that he cares. Makes sense to you?"
The Dark Lord only glared at the Agent. "I am nothing to my master but your brother is everything to you. Holding me gets you nothing."
The shield flashed again and the Dark Lord bit off a scream. "Who said anything about holding you?" Agent One replied coldly. "I believe my word of choice was hurt. And I can do that, Dark Lord." The shield flashed again, longer, making everyone look away. This time the Dark Lord did scream. "You think that I've been oblivious about everything that's been happening," another flash, another scream, "but I can feel my brother from here, and I know everything that's been done to him," the shield didn't so much as flash as blaze now, "and I can replicate every single damn thing that your master did to him. Do you think you can handle it, Dark Lord?"
The Dark Lord was up against the wall now, his eyes hard and unyielding but his body bent in pain. "You can't stop us, Magent, we are the shadows that your light doesn't touch-" and his voice vanished in another scream and he nearly fell to the ground.
"If I had wanted the company line I would have just read the free pamphlets," Agent One intoned. His voice was ice and stone. "What I want is your master, Dark Lord. You're nothing to me, nothing at all."
"You'll never-" and then the shield never buckled on itself as it burned and the Dark Lord fell to his knees and hands, shaking in pain.
"Get him here," Agent One nearly snarled, saying each word clearly and distinctly. Tristian had never seen him so angry.
And then the Dark Lord vanished.
"Where did he go?" the king asked, his voice nearly panicked. "If you have brought demons into this place, Magent . . ."
"Oh no, I think it might be quite worse than that-mmph!" Agent One said softly right as two hands came out of the floor and grabbed him by his face, nearly bending him double.
"On the contrary," a voice that dripped darkness said from seemingly everywhere, "the esteemed Magent has brought something far worse than demons into this place" and a figure that towered nearly ten feet rose out of the floor, out of the darkness itself. While the Dark Lord seemed to reflect evil, this being was evil itself. It appeared to be a larger Dark Rider, but the eyes were boiling red this time and both hands were indeed hands.
"No!" Tristian screamed, running forward, knowing that the being would recognize him and might pause for a second. Again he wished his laser sword had made the trip, he would have felt much safer if it was in his hand. As much as he hated the damn thing, he had to admit it came in handy sometimes.
But before he reached the being there was another red flash and the black being staggered back just as the Agent seemed to dissolve into a crimson mist, reforming nearby, standing between the king and the queen. He was rubbing his neck but otherwise seemed none the worse for wear.
He looked up at the being. "You were expecting a dispersed blast, I'm sure, not all my energy channeled to one point. From what I hear, it hurts a bit more. What do you say, Shadow?"
The Shadow glared down at the Agent but otherwise didn't seem concerned. Tristian felt alarm bells going off in his head and he saw that everyone else in the room looked as if their closest relative had gone and died in front of them. Michelle was doing her best not to look at the Shadow, while Johan seemed to be unable to tear his gaze away.
"I say it means little, Magent. You cannot hurt me, no matter how much you try." The eyes flickered with amusement. "Your brother learned that lesson the hard way, I'm afraid."
"I know he's fine, I can feel him, Shadow," Agent One said and his voice was terrible. "But if you don't give him back and withdraw, then I'll kill every Dark Rider I can find, faster than you can reform them. I'll raze your home and destroy everything."
"You'll do nothing that I cannot undo," the Shadow replied simply. "You posture and gesture with empty actions but they have little meaning, even though you try to pretend that in the end they have some semblance of substance." The eyes blazed like fire. "I will have this land, Magent, starting with here and ending with every village, until there is nothing left but darkness. And then my plans are just beginning."
"I can't fault you for ambition," Agent One told him, "but you know I'll stop you. I'll fight you every bloody step of the way."
"Your brother thought so as well. He found out otherwise."
"And he fights you still," Agent One shot back.
"Really?" the Shadow asked in mock surprise. His cape was swirling around him like something living. Tristian stared at the Shadow and felt the room being corrupted around him, the stench of something cold and dead, the very air falling to pieces. "He did not seem that way when I last saw him." The cape billowed out and touched the floor and the Shadow grabbed hold of one end and pulled it closer to himself. "But I shall let you judge for yourself."
And then Agent Two fell right out of his cloak.
He looked shattered, a puppet without any strings. Limply and loosely he hit the floor, bouncing, his hands were curled into claws grasping at invisible objects, his face contorting in an expression of pain, pure pain, fighting against the darkness and losing inch by inch. His robes were in tatters, his body streaked with blood that could have been his, might not have been.
There was dead silence in the room, marked and broken only by Agent Two's labored and strained breathing, his hoarse shouts for help that never came.
Agent One looked down at his brother, closed his eyes briefly and bowed his head. When he looked back up at the Shadow his hands were glowing and his face was blank. But his eyes held no mercy. Tension crackled in the air during the silence.
"You think you're immune to the suffering you cause," Agent One stated in a deadly whisper and every person heard those soft words. "But you'll know otherwise, Shadow. I swear to it."
"Do not make oaths that you'll never fulfill," the Shadow replied quite calmly. "Even now my armies are everywhere, guided by my servants, guided and goaded into my bidding." The Shadow held up a clenched fist. "Everything will die, here, Magent. Everything."
"But why? What's the point?" Tristian yelled at the Shadow, coming over and standing near the Agent, near the prone and disabled form of the other Agent.
"Why?" the Shadow asked, bringing his terrible gaze down to Tristian. Tristian stared up at the eyes of purest evil and did his best not to blink. His heart pounding, he didn't falter. "Little man, this place is the key. The key to everything."
Then he turned and stared around, finally letting his gaze fall back to the Agent. "I will leave you both with that. Farewell, Tristian, I don't expect you to survive the fall."
And then he was gone.
And everyone started shouting and running, half in fear, half in panic.
"Fall?" Tristian whispered, whirling on the Agent. "What did he mean by that, what did he mean-"
The castle shuddered suddenly and bucked and seemed to tilt and twirl. Everyone was thrown to the floor as the entire structure groaned around them. Tristian thought he heard whistling. Like a large object falling. But he felt nothing.
"Oh dear," Agent One said, still on his feet. "That can't be good. That can't be good at all."
Break for section 1
Begin section 2
There was a raging groan again and the castle bucked once more, causing everyone who had managed to stay on their feet the first time to join the others on the stone floor. Tristian felt his shoulder wrench as it hit the floor at an odd angle, but he was back on his feet just as quickly. A cursory scan of the room showed that everyone seemed okay. Johan was helping Michelle up from the ground. Even from here Tristian couldn't tell which of them was paler.
The Agent was still on his feet, as usual, but bent over his brother. Tristian staggered his way back over to the Agent, conscious of the rumblings of the castle all around them.
"What is going on here?" he shouted over the dim of the panicking people. The air was filled with colors as mages cast shields or teleported themselves and others away. In the distance an alarm bell was ringing, slowly and ominously. "What did the Shadow do?"
"Nothing," Agent One said grimly, and before Tristian could comment on that, he added, "It's what the Dark Riders did." His eyes were only on his brother, who was writhing still on the floor, almost in time with the dying castle. Wordless gasps came from his mouth. "When we first got here, you were told that the most powerful mages were the power behind the floating castle." Agent One licked his dry lips, an oddly human gesture. "That was a lie. A long time ago we-"
"You will be silent, Magent!" the king bellowed from his throne. "The secrets behind the castle are not to be known by any but the royal family and we will not-"
"Shut up!" Agent One roared, spinning on the king. "Things are falling apart as we speak and I will not be held back by petty protocol and ritual!" The king blinked and sat back down violently, as if struck. Turning back to Tristian he said quickly, "To keep the castle in the air, we imprisoned some air spirits that were being bothersome in a series of crystals and placed them around the castle." He sighed. "Obviously we didn't hide them well enough. The Dark Riders are going around destroying them as we speak. One will be enough to keep us safely in the air."
"How many are left?" Tristian asked quietly, already feeling that he knew the answer.
"One," Agent One replied simply. "Those two jolts were the other two getting destroyed. The last one is fairly well hidden and might be protected, if anyone here has any brains."
"Okay but-" and a shout from off to the side, sounding like Johan's voice alerted him to a menace from above. He noticed the shadow the second before it swooped down on him and a dragon like growl met his ears even as he dove. Two other guards weren't so lucky and he heard the sickening thuds even as he dodged two round helmeted objects on his way back to his feet.
"It just appeared . . . out of nowhere!" Johan said, suddenly at his side. And it was huge, scary, with fur around the collar and eyes that blazed like beacons. Wings flapped in the too small space but it didn't seem to need them to stay aloft.
A red shield flared up, appearing around the entire throne area even as the creature, a dragon perhaps, made another pass down at them. It sailed into the barrier, which crackled and snapped even as the creature roared in pain and flew straight up. Then it started to turn again.
"Tristian!" Agent One shouted. "Take Johan and Michelle and get the hell out of here! Protect the crystal until I can think of something more permanent."
Tristian stared at the thing above. It had grabbed a guard and was holding it, playing with it, giving it a dozen cuts before finally boring of the game and biting his head off in one singular motion. There was a sword lying nearby and it was in Tristian's hand before he realized what he was doing.
But there was the barrier.
Johan behind was grabbing the other sword, trying his best not to stare at the headless bodies. Tristian took a step toward the barrier.
"Tristian, dammit!" Agent One yelled and there was almost fear in his voice. "We don't have time for you to play hero. I'll protect as many people as I can, but you have to stop the Dark Riders!"
Tristian didn't answer. More guards were trying to surround the dragon, prodding and stabbing at it with swords that were little more than matchsticks. With one giant hand it swept them aside like dolls. The dragon's foot came down on one and Tristian thought he heard a prayer expelled from screaming lips.
Behind him, Johan grabbed his shoulder. "Tristian, the Magent has spoken, we have to get out of here."
Tristian didn't look away from the battle outside. "They're dying out there, Johan."
"And if the castle falls, what then, Tristian? Will you save these few so that everyone dies? We have to go."
Tristian let himself stare at the sight for a moment longer, ingraining on his memory, until he could stare no longer. With an effort he tore himself away, shaking off Johan's hand and heading for the door. Michelle glanced at Johan as they followed Tristian, almost running to keep up.
Agent One shook his head as he watched them leave. "Why does he have to be so single-minded?" he asked the air.
"And . . . like you're the . . . epitome of . . . flexibility . . . pal . . ."
The voice was a gasp from below, a hoarse rasp against the unconquerable.
Agent One stared down as his brother stared up at him. Then Agent One smiled thinly. "I think you live for moments like that. Welcome back."
"Yeah . . ." Agent Two shifted to a sideways position, wincing as he did so, "thanks a whole bunch. Care to fill me in on what's going on?"
"In a nutshell, we're about to tumble from the sky. Still glad to be back?"
Agent Two grinned. "Hell the impact isn't going to do anything to us . . ." and his grin faded, "but these people . . . there's going to be a lot of pulped people if something isn't done."
"Tristian's on it now," came the terse reply.
"Ah," was all his brother said.
And the dragon slammed up against the shield.
* * * * *
All three of them were barreling down the corridor, the shouts and screams from the throne room not growing any fainter the farther they got.
"The entire castle seems under siege," Johan noted, breathing heavily as they came to a stop. In the distance there were clangs and yells, thuds and whimpers. Tristian thought his nose caught the scent of smoke.
"The Shadow must have teleported a whole bunch of nasties in here to keep us busy," Tristian said tersely. His soul cried out to run and help the shouts that he heard but there was nothing he could do. He had to let some die so that everyone could live. And even then he didn't know how much of a chance they had.
Michelle pulled her robes tighter around herself and shivered. "The Shadow. Even the name sounds purely evil."
"He is pure evil," Tristian replied.
"I looked at him and . . ." she shuddered, "all I saw was darkness. Not even just blackness but the total absence of light." She stared at Tristian. "He wants everything to be that way. I could feel it."
"He seemed to know you, Tristian," Johan said, staring right at Tristian. "Even as you knew him."
"We've . . . encountered each other before," Tristian explained vaguely, not wanting to elaborate. "None of them are very pleasant memories, unfortunately. I've fought Dark Riders as well and I know that they're extremely dangerous."
"The Magent," Michelle said slowly, "the other one, that the . . . Shadow dropped. He looked . . . dead. Is the Shadow that powerful, Tristian? Is there any hope for us?"
Tristian found himself smiling at her. "I thought you'd be the one telling us to have hope." His smile faded. "But the Shadow could kill us all without much effort. Though he won't attack directly, it'll be through his minions. That's where our problem will be." Standing for a second, thinking, he said, "Michelle, do you have any idea where the third crystal might be? Being that it's magic, you might be able to detect it."
"I . . . I'll try," and her eyes glazed over as she peered into visions that nobody else could even fathom. Her mouth moved like she was talking to something.
"Tristian, if Michelle can find the crystal, that means the Dark Riders might be able to find it as well," Johan said, glancing around constantly. His sword was at his belt but his hand was never far from the hilt. There were creakings and thumpings from seemingly everywhere.
"From what I know, the Dark Riders can't use magic, which might be the thing that saves us. But they have the numbers and time is one their side. All they have to do is find it, we're the ones who have to hold them off."
"Found it!" Michelle suddenly said, her eyes snapping open. At one point she must have closed them. "It's disguised as something else, so I passed over it the first few times. But I found it."
"Great," Tristian said, feeling that this was going far easier than it should be. "Can you get us there?"
Michelle closed her eyes again and blue flickered around her hair but after a moment she opened her eyes and shook her head slowly. "I can't," she told them. "There's some sort of protection around it to keep people from teleporting near it."
"But you know where it is?" Tristian asked her.
"Yes, I can lead the way." She brushed past Tristian and even through her robes, through that faintest of contact, he could sense her fear. She thought she was going to die, that she wouldn't live to see the end of this. They all felt the same way. But as she swept past, Tristian glanced at Johan and saw that blunt intent written in his eyes. No one else was going to die today. Tristian knew that his expression was a reflection of that.
"How far off is it?" he asked her, now jogging to keep up with her. Johan followed along in the rear, always staring around, trying to keep an eye out for things. Tristian knew that when the attack came, if it did, there'd be nothing they could do to stop it.
"It's actually not that far, but we might have to-oh!" and they turned the corner just in time to run right into a pair of Dark Riders. The yellow eyes glared at them and they glanced at each other before starting to move toward Tristian and company.
"No!" he yelled, scrambling forward and tackling one before it could do anything else. The body might be thin and wiry but they were certainly strong and it twisted to try and throw Tristian to the floor. The other one went for Johan and he heard the man draw his sword.
He had to end this fast, they weren't ready for a protracted battle against Dark Riders. A lightning fast fist slammed at his head but Tristian jerked his head to the side, grabbing the air and pulling. The Dark Rider twitched forward and Tristian stepped up and behind it, swinging the air back, feeling the shoulder grind and give, even as he placed his other hand on the back on the head and cracked it as hard as he could into the wall. His head pressed into something soft at the back of the head and the Dark Rider gave a small squeak and fell silent.
Dropping the now dead Dark Rider, he saw Johan score a cut against it. But no blood flowed out at all, even as Johan danced back and slashed it across the chest. His sword caused sparks in the air but the Dark Rider merely laughed softly and stepped forward. Its hand was going to the sheath at its belt and Tristian knew what was coming next. He couldn't let it take the sword out, or they'd all be dead. All Dark Riders carried the same weapon.
He was in motion even as the Dark Rider whipped its other hand across Johan's face in a too fast motion. Johan spun and hit the wall, his head snapping back. He didn't fall but he shook his head, dazed. Michelle stood there, the action going too fast around here to do anything. Her body seemed to glow blue, as if she was readying something but Tristian didn't have time to ponder that.
The Dark Rider had his hand upon the hilt. Tristian leapt forward, not even bothering with the sword, slashing his hand across, cracking the Dark Rider across the face, spinning it around to face him.
The eyes glittered when they stared at him.
"Tristian," was all it said.
The only answer was a snarl from Tristian and a blurring of motion that the Dark Rider couldn't fight back against. In seconds it was sliding down the wall, limbs thrashing out at odd angles.
Blinking sweat from his eyes, Tristian spun to see Michelle holding Johan up. Her hands were around his face and a blue light was sighing from them.
"How is he?" Tristian asked, nearly breathless.
"Barely conscious . . ." but her eyes were wide as they regarded him. "How do you fight like that?"
"A little bit of my soul at a time," Tristian replied grimly. Already there were more flickerings from down the hall. "We have to get going," he said, "is Johan able to stand at least."
Michelle shook him a little and he numbly seemed to stand up. The grip around his sword had turned his knuckles pure white. He was going to keep fighting.
"I think so," Michelle said after a moment.
"Then I can handle the rest," Tristian responded, helping Johan get sturdier on his feet. Just as they got him to his feet, something rocked the castle again, flinging everyone to the floor. Tristian hit the ground hard, Michelle nearly landing on top of him. A sudden image of the castle slamming into the ground filled him and he strained his senses for signs of falling. He registered nothing.
Michelle was struggling to get up, her face very pale all of a sudden. "The vibrations they can't be . . ." she spun on Tristian. "We have to run! Now!"
"That's what I've been saying," Tristian said somewhat irritably, getting to his feet again.
And Michelle was shouting something again, just as she slammed into him. Tristian saw a flash of bright gold, streaked with black and the wall behind him crumpled. Fresh cold air hit his face.
Something with a cloak and hood and glowing eyes was stepping through the wall. "Clever humans, evading us for so long. This shall be your stand, and your demise." It's hands were glowing gold and black. Colors flared and leapt toward them, almost snapping hungrily.
"Tristian!" Michelle yelled, throwing her hands out, the blue of her colors meeting in the center, all the colors flashing and canceling, the entire thing happening suddenly, silently. Cold fire. The force staggered her back against him, even as she pushed him away. He finally made the grab for his sword, throwing it straight at the demon.
It cackled at him. "A present for me? I've done little to deserve it, I think. But I accept it anyway." The sword stopped in mid flight, but Tristian was already moving, having only wanted the weapon as a distraction. Out of the corner of his eye he saw blue flare and the demon almost shrieked. The sword hovered in mid air, reversed itself and then started moving again. Tristian prepared to duck but it sailed over his head and only at the last second did he realize its destination.
"Michelle!" he screamed but distracted by the magical battle she didn't see the sword until it had impacted with her head. The blue around her flickered and burnt out even as her eyes fluttered and blood leaked down her face. Near the hole blown in the wall, she started to fall.
Tristian shifted direction and went to grab her, feeling her weight pulling him down even as he managed to get a fistful of her robe. With all his strength he started to pull her back into the castle.
But then his world became reversed as gold and black rimmed his vision. He felt like a lightning rod even as the world hovered and blinked around him. His entire body seized and went numb, just enough for the balance to tip over. Nerves not responding, still grasping Michelle with all his might, he felt himself topple and fall.
Blue sky and laughter surrounded him as his world fell away.
End section 2
Begin section 3
The air sucked at his ears, pulling at his face, making it nearly impossible to breath. Too much of a good thing, worse than drowning. He must have blacked out at some point because time seemed to be moving in spurts. In jumps. In stuttering steps. He was spinning, in the air, around and around. Michelle, still tightly in his grasp, lay limply against him. Unconscious. Probably best. At least she won't know. She won't know when it happens. The fall.
I doubt you'll survive the fall. That's what the bastard said but he probably didn't mean this. The Shadow can't tell the future, he can just make it. Evil. Everything in the goddamned castle was evil. And yet it was still winning. That's not the way the world worked. Not the way it was supposed to work. Fight the fight, stand on the side of right, you had to win every time. Evil had to turn tail and run. Not appear in front of you and calmly lay down the death sentence.
Like floating now. The endless sky, the puffy whiteness of clouds. Close up, it all seems normal. The ground so far away. Everything is different here. He was rotating, bursts of air slashing at him on either side, making him dizzy. He could see the castle, see it receding. Like a dream. Falling away. It made a phrase come to mind but nothing was in his head anymore. Blackness and redness gnawed at the edges of his vision. His head was in a vice.
Tristian forced himself to stay conscious. He wanted to see every moment, he wanted death to know that he had stared it right in the face the entire way down and didn't flinch. That he didn't allow himself the luxury of oblivion before the final curtain fell. No getting up early. He wanted to think that there was still hope, that life still existed and that last minute saves were pulled out of the strangest places. Part of him had gotten so used to the Agents saving him. Maybe that was why he left. He didn't want to rely on people, didn't want to think that he might fail one day because he was hoping someone else would pick the slack up. No room for that.
Or maybe there was a different reason. In the delirious pause that preceded death, his mind cleared and found that maybe, just maybe there was a different reason for all of this. Maybe he didn't want people to rely on him, in case he failed and someone died just when he was needed. He was tired of death. But death wasn't weary of him. It was there now, on the ground, ready to greet him with open arms and smashed bones. He knew how he would die, his head would pulverize itself into his chest and his entire body would become little more than pulp. Perhaps he would bounce on the way down. The absurd image of his broken and smashed corpse bouncing like a ball as it slammed into the ground would have brought a chuckle to his ears, if there was air or time left to laugh.
He glanced down at the head of air that was what he could see of the women pressed against him. She might wake up before they hit, might see and realize. He could kill her now, a simple snap of the neck would render her unable to know anything ever again. All the satisfaction death would get would be an empty shell shattered, little better than breaking a vase. But he couldn't do it, it went against everything he knew. There was always hope, there had to be. Tristian could never resign himself to anything, never let himself believe fully. In his own life, in his own death. There was never time.
And then time stopped.
Splat.
But that's not what happened.
His head nearly bent backwards suddenly and the world went black as everything seemed to shift into a halt.
When he came to himself a second later, willpowering keeping the darkness at bay, the world was ringed in green.
Startled, he stared around half of him thinking this was just part of the dream, the other half realizing what had just happened.
They were saved.
Above, he could see a figure hovering above them, green flickering from them to him. He was surrounded in a nimbus of green. Slowly, ever so slowly, agonizingly slow, they were drawn up to him, even as the figure was drawn back towards the foreboding fortress that was the castle.
Still locked in his grip, Michelle stirred. She turned slightly and Tristian could see that her forehead was caked in streaks of blood that had come from her wound. But she had stopped bleeding at least.
"What are . . . what . . ." was all she said, blurring vision and impacted mind not allowing her to fully appreciate or realize the rapidly changing situation.
"Last minute save," was all Tristian said to her and her eyelids fluttered again. He couldn't even tell if she was conscious any longer.
As they grew closer to the floating green, Tristian found he could make out features better and as he did he wondered if he was still dreaming.
"Johan," was all he said, feeling like his voice was coming from someone else. It was dry, cracked, hoarse, like he had been screaming for hours. Perhaps he had been, the air rush had been so loud that bombs could have gone off in his face with the effect of having been in a vacuum.
Whether the other man heard him or not wasn't clear. His arms were outstretched, forehead knotted in concentration, eyes nearly closed, thin lipped with tension. Sweat was literally streaking its way down his body.
The hole that they had flown out of came into view slowly. Tristian had seen ships dock before, both on Earth with the ocean and in space and right now he felt like one of those ships himself. Everything was so slow, they were so close and yet anything could happen. It made him want to scream.
But they made it in, the castle closing around them again like a cocoon, air and warmth and life once again. The green twinkled around them for a second more, Johan floating near them. Then he touched down and the green vanished. Still a few inches from the floor, Tristian fell the rest of the way, realizing that the small bruises he would get from that are far less than what would have happened had he finished his fall outside.
Gently laying Michelle down, seeing that she was already regaining consciousness, he went over to Johan. The man looked positively sick, he was leaning heavily against the wall clutching his stomach, trembling enough that Tristian could see it from a distance.
"Couldn't let you . . . I just . . . owed it to Mari, to not . . . to just . . . argh, the pain . . ." he closed his eyes and shook violently.
"Johan, what did you do?" Tristian asked, putting an arm out to steady the man.
The constant pressure and reassurance from a friend seemed to focus Johan's thoughts. Glancing back at Tristian he said in a quivering voice, "Everyone can . . . use magic Tristian, it's just a matter of . . . of focusing and thinking and . . . I saw you falling and I couldn't . . . I just couldn't let you . . . ah!" The effort must have nearly drained him, Tristian realized, not sure he could fully comprehend how much Johan had pushed himself to save them. He didn't seem to have especially powerful magical abilities, yet he pushed them to the limit to save them.
Patting the man on the shoulder, not sure if the gesture even touched on how he felt, he turned to survey the rest of the area. The thing they had fought might still be around and he wanted to be better prepared. It seemed to be some sort of demon, or a ghost, walking through walls. He examined the corridor, seeing the two Dark Riders bodies thrown around, just the way he had left them.
And then he saw it. A cloak, burned and charred almost beyond recognition. It was lying on the floor in a heap, obviously empty, right near the wall where the being had stepped through. He remembered its taunts, the voice of crushed glass. What had done this?
"I . . . got it, Tristian . . . I . . . it took everything I had and . . . then . . . then I had to save you . . ." Johan gasped, shaking his head to regain a sense of himself. Silently, Tristian bent down to finger the burnt cloth. It was still hot. And then staring up, he took another look at the wall. What he thought had just been their shadows thrown on the wall by the light source wasn't. There was a patch of darkness on the wall, one that didn't flicker or change shape. A single blot, man shaped and sized.
He let the cloth drop from his numb fingers and just stood up. A groan from the side alerted him to Michelle coming to. Moving over, he went to help her sit up.
"Please tell me that we won while I was out," she said weakly, though otherwise seeming none the worse for wear.
"We almost lost for good, if not for Johan," Tristian told her and then quickly explained what had happened. Her eyes widened when she heard and after Tristian had finished relating the story, she got shakily to her feet, waving off Tristian's help.
"We have to get to the crystal," she said firmly, "who knows how much time we lost while we were falling. They could be there already."
"If they were there, then I think we'd all know about it by now," Tristian noted. "Which means we still have time but not much. Do you think you can still get there from here?"
She nodded and started to move down the corridor. Tristian turned to Johan and said, "Johan, you don't have to come. If you make it back to the throne room, you'll be safe there . . ." he didn't want to add, and if we fail it won't matter otherwise.
Johan seemed to shake himself, pushing off from the wall. A speckle of green seemed to flicker in his eye as he stared at Tristian. "I'm ready," was all he said. "Let's go."
The walk turned out not to be much farther, though every second that passed pulsed through their veins. Every step they felt they wondered if they would feel the last grinding shudder of the castle before it started its final plummet. As they walked they passed through remains of battles, through bodies of friend and foe. Glass crunched underfoot and the reek of smoke, made worse by the close confines was everywhere.
Eventually they came before a set of wooded doors. There was no one else around, which was good because the group was in little shape for a fight. Michelle was still pale from blood loss and she moved slowly, while Johan just seemed overall fatigued, his exertion of magical energy having worn him out completely. If they had to protect the crystal then they might not be much use. Tristian himself felt fine but he didn't know how much his conditioning was blocking the feeling from his nerves. Perhaps it was even causing him to regenerate. Anything to make him feel less than human.
"These are the royal chambers," Michelle announced in a hushed voice. "None are allowed here normally but this is where the crystal lies, where the king can defend it himself if necessary."
"Can you open the doors?" Tristian asked.
Her brow was furrowed in concentration and azure danced on her fingertips. "There are some wards but nothing too complicated, especially for someone well versed in the defenses around the castle. Ah." And with an anticlimactic click the doors swung open.
The room was dark, almost pitch black since there were no windows to be seen. "Can you get the lights on?" Tristian asked Michelle.
"Don't think so," Michelle replied, "I'm testing it and they seem to be keyed to the king himself." Her entire body was softly glimmering blue.
"Tristian," Johan said from the other end of the room. They went over to see what he had called them for, and then they saw it too. Set in the wall was a glowing multifaceted rock, almost seeming to pulsate with its own light. It threw harsh contrasts on everyone's features. Tristian almost thought he could see a face pressed up against the crystal, though it might have been his own reflection. Or not.
"This is it," Michelle whispered. "I can feel its power from here."
"Okay, now what are we going to do?" Tristian wondered out loud. "Maybe we should start by blocking those doors with something heavy, it might not stop the Dark Riders but it might slow them down." He squinted into the darkness. "And I wish someone could find a light switch."
Over by Johan there was a rustling and then he heard the man shout. "No, keep away!" just as the entire room flared green. Tristian caught the afterimages of two shadows throwing their hands up to protect themselves before they dissolved into nothing.
Then Tristian felt strong arms encircling him. Instinctively he went to struggle but they were too fast, pinning and holding him before he could do anything else. Something oppressive entered the air. Near him he could see Michelle flash blue briefly and then flicker out, followed by a muffled shout from her voice.
"Interesting," said a voice from the darkness. Two glowing points appeared, like they were floating. "The relatively weakest member among you reacted the fastest. He managed to dispatch two of us before we could even reach him. Mark that well, Tristian. He did what you could not."
Tristian knew the voice instantly, he had heard it not that long before. "Then you'd better kill me now, Dark Lord, or else you'll see what I can do. And you've seen that before."
"Oh yes, your lauded fighting prowess," came the mocking reply. "I've seen it up close, Tristian, we've sparred none too many times. I've been rarely impressed. But this conversation is wearying and this darkness useless. There's no need to hide when your goals have been accomplished. Lights, please."
The light flamed on, causing everyone to blink and turn their heads away. Tristian could see Michelle sagging between two Dark Riders, as well as the two holding him. Johan was standing near the two shadows on the walls, his entire body green. His look was hounded, his eyes haunted.
"You won't get the crystal, you'll have to get past me first . . ." he panted, nearly breathless with exertion. Tristian continued to strain against his captors, searching for some way out. He could find none.
"How . . . melodramatic," the Dark Lord stated calmly. "So, little man, you seek to do battle with me? Instead of surrendering?" The eyes seemed to flicker evilly. "That could result in some . . . sport."
"Don't come near me. I'll blast you to ashes," Johan nearly screeched. "I mean it."
"Oh, I have no doubt you do," the Dark Lord replied quite calmly, as he took a step forward. And then another. His hand was going to his belt, to the sword resting there. Tristian fought harder to get away from his captors. "But you've expended most of your magical abilities saving your friends, saving yourself. Frankly, I doubt you have anything left."
And then at his last words a red blur erupted from his belt, into his hand and slashed down, meeting, intersecting and biting through the green of Johan's shield, slicing down his arm. Blood spurted and hit the wall with a thud, eager to be freed. Johan screamed and lunged back a step, clutching his arm. His shield faded out.
"Seems I was right," the Dark Lord added, holding his glowing sword. The blade was a single shaft of red. Tristian knew the weapon all too well, he had wielded one of its type all too often. He wished for it now.
Johan, panicked but not backing down, drew his own sword, holding it out before him in his good hand. The Dark Lord glanced down at him calmly.
"Your continued efforts only prolong the inevitable," he said smugly, slicing the sword up and cutting the blade off Johan's sword. "But then even if your surrender it will only mean death for you anyway. Given the same choice, I would not lay down and die either. However," he continued, stepping forward and cutting against, opening a laceration on Johan's chest, causing the other man to gasp and shrink back, "my resistance would be glorious. Yours is merely . . . pathetic." And then he cut across Johan's leg. Tristian could see that he was just toying with the man, bleeding him to death. Figuring he had all the time in the world. Michelle would probably be next and her death would be quick. He wondered why she wasn't using her magic. Perhaps she had nothing left either. Or perhaps they were masking her abilities. There was no telling what the Dark Riders could do.
But for him, the Dark Lord would think of torments that would end in his death only after an infinite amount of suffering. Tristian kept fighting against the implacable grip of the Dark Riders. He didn't see anything else he could do. Already the Dark Rider was raising his sword again to strike.
Just then, the wall exploded.
It was just like that, no warning. The solid wood and stone of the wall buckled outward, flaming with a thunderous explosion. Smoke and debris filled the room, even the Dark Lord stepped back, his cape unfurling and flapping in the sudden rank breeze.
"I hear you're looking for a worthy opponent," came a hoarse voice. Tristian could see someone framed in the darkness, someone wearing tattered robes. Silently he stepped forward and in the half darkness his eyes were glowing ominously. His voice deadly serious, Agent Two said, "Well, so I am, but I guess you'll do until I find him." His hands were glimmering blood red.
The Dark Lord held his sword before him. "You are still weak, Magent, there's nothing you can do. Admit your defeat."
Agent Two gave a barking laugh. "How about instead of that, I tell you what I'd like to do. Your master put me through a lot of crap, and if I thought you'd last that long, I'd give you a small taste." His eyes narrowed, still glowing. "But you can't, so I'll just . . . improvise."
"Save yourself and withdraw, Dark Lord," came another more cultured voice. The wall on the other side rippled and Agent One stepped through. "Or I'll let my brother have you. I might even help."
The Dark Lord's gaze flickered to either Agent. "Always the same, Magents. You think by surrounding me, showing off your vaunted powers, you force me into checkmate. That I will back down as a sign of acknowledgement of your greatness."
Energy was starting to float in the air from Agent Two to the Dark Lord. "Frankly," Agent Two said, "I don't really care what you tell yourself after this is over. But I think you should do so before I get impatient." He gave a grim smile. "We're thirty thousand feet up, Dark Lord, and I'm feeling really creative today. Please don't surrender."
"Very well, then, Magent, I shall not," the Dark Lord said evenly. "In fact, I think I shall remain," and then his sword flickered out again, slashing as Johan one last time, cutting at his head, at his throat, "defiant!" and even Tristian saw the arc of blood spurting into the air even as Johan's head snapped back, exposing the grisly red line that occupied most of his neck.
He was starting to sag even as Tristian and the Agents both screamed "No!" almost at the same exact moment. Initial goal forgotten, both Agents dove at the falling Johan.
Meanwhile, the Dark Lord didn't even pause in his motion, saying as he brought his sword up and around and straight, "Victory remains mine," even as the sword dove right into the heart of the crystal itself, shattering it, causing fragments to go flying all around the room.
The room was filled with a rushing sound of wind. There was a pause that lasted for a silent eternity even as the castle groaned one last time.
And then the lights went out, even as an ever present and final whistling replaced all other sounds in Tristian's mind.
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