The Last Mage

Prologue

While the hordes of demons grew the number of Guardians shrank, buried beneath the thrashing tide never to rise again. Wave upon wave of dark twisted bodies surged forward. Again the Guardians had to fall back. All the while Zarlo stood on the rise, overlooking the carnage with a smile. He was winning and he knew it.

Nathan knew it was only a matter of time before they were forced to the very entrance of The Center. The human troops had fled long ago in terror, leaving the Guardians to fight alone. They stood no chance. He knew that. They all knew that. The only hope they had was the mage, Morvin. The Guardians only bought him more time. If he could get to the heart of the Center, he could hide the Tersho Stone from the demons. It could not fall into Zarlo's hands and he prayed for strength to last in the old mage just long enough. Strength to last in them all.

They were rushed again and again. Every muscle in Nathan's body quivered with the strain. He knew his normal limits had been passed long ago, that the only thing keeping him going was his pledge. The tide against them swelled and they again fell back loosing valuable ground they would never regain. The sun was beginning to sink below the mountains and all knew when the light died so would they. The mindless hacking at twisted bodies and their unearthly shrieks wore on his mind threatening death's hypnosis. Part of Zarlo's power, it tore and gnawed at his mental wall. His legs felt like jelly and his arms burned steadily. A howl from the nearest demons sent tingles down his spine and he fought the impulse to turn and run.

Only yards away now the Center waited, its white stone walls towering above, slitted windows bristling with ready arrows. A small respite there. Around five hundred Guardians held the Center, waiting. Of the two thousand gathered who had gone out against the enemy there couldn't be more than two hundred left. The odds weren't good but the Guardians couldn't- wouldn't- give up. Too many depended on them. What was kept at the heart of the Center, past the labyrinth of halls, held back the floodgates of the underworld. Of three of the Key Stones only one Stone remained out of Zarlo's hands. The key to getting the others back was keeping hold of this one. The mage promised it was so, that there was reason to fight against these impossible odds. The last mage. He held all the secrets and had no one to pass them on to. Magic had not been born in another for decades, the remaining seventy mage were killed in battle. Everything rested in the mind of this man who had the look to fall apart any minute. He said there was still a chance to imprison the evil Zarlo had released. It gave Nathan purpose. He had determined that even if the last Guardian around him fell he would keep fighting. Against Zarlo himself if he ever got the backbone to come down off that blasted hill.

Even with all the Guardians efforts, the dark flood swept them back. The smells of autumn were fouled with the stench of blood and bodies, bird song replaced with horrid shrieks. Blood soaked Nathan and his head felt light, darkness threatening the edges of his vision. Determined not to give in to his physical weaknesses he slashed with his swords, using them like scithea through screaming flesh. Again they had to fall back and Nathan could sense the gates looming above. If the demons got past the front pillars no amount of help from within would stop them. It might take a while but they would find the heart and then all hope would be gone. Unless Morvin succeeded, which he fervently hoped he was.

Arrows were loosed behind him, whistling past to find their marks. But for every demon down seven more pushed in. The mealstrom ripped through the dead and came on. Others came, pulling him behind the gates, taking his place. His legs gave out beneath him and he laid there on the cool white stones, rest a welcome friend. Someone was there beside him, a damp cloth running over him. He imagined it soaked with blood before it made two swipes. Water was cool in his dry mouth and welcomed to his parched throat. The noise of battle fell to the background and Nathan pushed at the cotton in his mind. Now was no time to sleep.