The Protector and the Peacemaker

Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Four

(Porter)

"Porter, we have to do something!" Sarah's voice shouted into the boy's head.

"But... what?" he asked, staring at the enormous abomination in front of them.

Terror roiled inside of him, making his legs feel like lead. He knew he needed to do something before Uthas Drall managed to take out both armies, but what could possibly work against something like him?

"We've come too far to give up now!" Sarah scolded him. "We have to keep fighting!"

It was strange, hearing such brave words come from her mind. Usually, he was the one encouraging everyone. He could still feel the fear in her, at least as much as he felt himself, but she was managing to force her way through it.

And if she could do it, so could he.

"All right," he said at last. "Where are you?"

"Behind you," she answered. "Turn around."

Finally taking his eyes off the Fear Feeder, Porter spun around and could dimly see Sarah standing fifty feet away. She had taken off her helmet, and her red hair was blowing wildly in the wind. She waved at him, and he ran to her while Uthas Drall was still busy attacking the Mythics.

"Are you okay to fight?" he asked, noticing the way she was holding her chest. He could feel her pain through their connection. Mortoph had definitely managed to crack her ribs, perhaps even broken a couple of them.

"I don't have much choice," she replied grimly. "What are we going to do?"

Though he found her eyes to be a much nicer place to look, Porter forced himself to look up at Uthas Drall again, and his spirits sank even further.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Everything they're throwing at him doesn't seem to be doing anything at all."

"I know how you can beat him!"

Startled, Porter and Sarah both turned to see a scrawny young man with ratty brown hair staggering in their direction. He was naked, and trying to cover himself with a couple pieces of a shredded black coat.

"You!" Porter exclaimed, stepping forward to put himself between Sarah and the real Drake Mortoph.

"Please, don't hurt me!" Drake pleaded. He took a step backwards, but didn't leave.

"What do you want?" Porter demanded, trying to look threatening even though he wasn't carrying a weapon. He hadn't managed to find his sword after the fake Mortoph made him drop it.

"I- I want to help you beat that thing," Drake answered, motioning feebly towards the gigantic monster.

Porter felt bitter suspicion drift from Sarah's soul to his, and it matched what he was feeling perfectly.

"Why should we believe you?" she asked, her voice icy.

"You shouldn't," Drake said, speaking quickly, "and I don't blame you. But that thing trapped me inside my own head for more than thirty years. I don't love it any more than you do!"

Porter's eyes narrowed. "You don't care about the Mythics or the Slayers at all, do you? You just want us to kill Uthas Drall out of revenge!"

Drake shook with fear and agitation, but didn't deny it. "Does it really matter?" he asked. "Either way, we all get what we want."