Heir Apparent

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Natural, powerful lightning split the clouds asunder, followed heartbeats later by the boom of thunder directly overhead. Mana-fuelled lightning struck the great dome, causing its sloped side to crack like ice over a pond. He felt more mana drawn from him as the Battlemage flowed more of the white-shield-substance into the crack, closing it.

"It won't hold much longer!" He bellowed to his companion, a withered old man, stooped as if his years rested like lead upon his shoulders.

"Take what energy I have left!" The old men's hoarse croak responded, barely heard over the screams of frustrated orcs and dying humans. "You must keep our people alive until help arrives."

"No father!" The younger man shook his head, his back still to the older "The strain will kill you."

"The dome must hold." The younger man turned his back on the city and it's great dome of shield that barely kept the attackers from the inner city far below. "It must," The father continued "no matter the cost."

"How do we even know help is coming?" The young man begged, his fear and despair echoing down the link he shared with his demon.

"You must trust in your cousin." His father croaked firmly, raising a frail hand "Now take the last of my mana and feed the great dome."

The younger man bowed his head and took his father's hand. Taking a deep breath he turned and added what had been sent to him into the rapidly crumbling shield.

"My old friend..." the old man whispered, his skin pale and his breathing shallow "My dear, dear old friend..." Rashik hurried to his former master as his current one took the last of his own available mana to add to the shield. The demon crouched low to listen to the old man's final words. "Care for my son as you did me, Rashik." The old Lord of Hovalli's voice was barely audible over the crash of thunder and magic. "Care for my son, and his son after him."

"There!" The younger Lord Hovat called, with joy and relief in his voice "I see them father!"

"Thank you, Rashik..." The Anubid felt a pang of sorrow as the old man let out his final breath. That sorrow was nothing compared to the black, bottomless grief that exploded down his link to his master as he too saw his father die.

In his pain and loss he was distracted, unprepared for the concussive force that shattered the last of the great dome, shook the tower and knocked the young Lord from his feet.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Dorien woke with a start, his cry echoing around his chamber. He had expected to experience infusion memories from Rashik, as the Anubid was so much older than Lial was, or Toralu had ever been, but had not expected to feel the death of his demon's previous master. He retched as his body tried to compensate for the sensation of a long fall and sudden stop.

He tried to process the images, already fuzzy in his mind. As much as he would have liked to see him, no detail of the memory suggested the Battlemage had been his father. The city below the tower had almost certainly been Hovalli but had been considerably smaller, only two rings around the central keep. This meant that the event had taken place a very long time ago. Even if that weren't the case, the mage in the dream had produced a shield that sheltered the entire keep and the First Ring, something Dorien's father would never have been able to achieve. And of course, Dorien's father hadn't fallen from a tower, but had died in his great arm chair, his grief over his wife's death on the front lines claiming him as he gave up on living.

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