Enter Abyss

Chapter 43; The final duel.

For the duration of the day, Archer never left Cogs' side, and once Pip had returned with water for their friend, she did much the same.

In silence they sat, waiting for Galen to regain enough energy to tell them exactly what was happening to their friend and if he would be alright. And eventually, when the young king groaned and sat up, Archer peppered him with questions till Galen raised his hand for silence.

"His body is healing," he replied gently, "Though he will most likely be asleep for the next several days."

"So he'll live?" Pip asked hopefully.

"It seemed as though my pleading with the Ancestors has spared him, and thus I do believe he will be able to walk this earth for many years to come."

Archer sighed in relief, his shoulders slumping as though a weight had been lifted off them.

His entire body felt raw; his fist hurt from were he had punched Mordren, his leg ached from his previous battle, and his chest felt heavy from the torment of watching his friend nearly die. Yet for all the peace of knowing that Cogs would live, he still felt a great amount of unease knowing that there was still one more battle left to come.

The battle that would decide their fates.

Galen too, seemed to realize this, and Archer noted the tension in the boy's shoulders.

Finally, he could take the dismal silence no longer and he leaned over to Galen and whispered, "If you would like, I could fight this final battle for you as your champion. It's not as if I've got anything else to do today anyhow."

But the king only shook his head, his pale lips never cracking a smile. "Nay, I would never ask you do do such a task."

"Because I'll be bad at whatever it is?"

"In this case, yes. The final duel is a battle of magic."

"Is it to the death?"

"More or less. Usually the objective is to make your opponent die the slowest, most painful death possible. Unlike the Dance of Blades, which focuses on a quick, painless death, the duel of spells is more about suffering. Thus, very few wish to make it to this stage."

Archer felt himself bristle slightly, "That's not fair! Mordren has a stone perfect for a duel like that. All you can do is talk to dead Ancestors."

"I appreaciate your faith in me."

"You know I didn't mean it like that." he nudged Galen gently. "I just fail to see how you can compete against someone with a literal stone of destruction."

The king shrugged. "I may be able to call upon the Ancestors' powers-- through them, I may use their magic. I only hope my frail body will not crumble to ash before the fight is over."

And with that, they were silent.

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The silence was stifling-- Pip could feel it. In the space around her, the room felt like a coffin, enclosed, dark, and boring.

Eventually, she could stand it no longer, and despite her better judgment, she left her friends-- opting instead to roam the streets outside the palace. Here amidst the coolness of the damp air, she could think... so long as she ignored the dirty looks of the citizens around her.

To them, she was a traitor to Galen, to the crown that once was. To the bloody Ancestors even. And though there were a few supporters of Mordren who gazed at her with admiration, it did not make Pip smile like it once had. Rather, it made her feel ensnared, trapped in the form of a person she hardly recognized as who she had once been.

Twisting and turning  through the streets, she soon came to the place where it had all started, the place where her life had taken a drastic turn; the fighting ring.

It was here that she had been met with acceptance for her love of hitting things. Though perhaps she had garnered attention from the wrong people, in that moment she had felt wanted for being herself.

Still, she wished she could have gone back to that day-- to the day Mordren had trapped her under his spell. Had she had the the chance, she would have done it over, stopped it where it began.

But time goes back for no one; its threads of memory and events are set in stone, irreversible. And though Pip knew she could never change the past, perhaps she could find a way to save the future.

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Cogs did not awaken when Archer and Galen left for the final duel. Meera, on the other hand, gave Galen a hug goodbye, saying that he would always be her king, no matter who sat upon the throne.

The sight made Archer's heart feel both full and empty at the same time, a cloud of sadness seeming to hang over his head.

Thus, as he and Galen marched on toward their fate, both kept silent, lost in dark thoughts.

It was only when they stood at the edge of the arena together did Galen speak, his voice holding a slight tremor. 

"I'm afraid."

It was only two words. Two words that held an ocean's worth of emotion on their shoulders, and it was then that Archer realized that, he too, was afraid. 

He was afraid of Mordren becoming king. He was afraid of the kingdom falling to ruin. He was afraid of Mordren killing himand his friends. He was afaid that he would never see his mother ever again-- that he would die without telling her he loved and forgave her.

He was afraid of Galen dying.

But in that moment, in that brief second of time that seemed to stretch for an eternity, Archer could not tell Galen any of this. Instead, he grasped his friend by his thin, bony shoulders, looking him in the eye.

"I'm afraid too," he whispered, "But I'll be watching you throughout the entire battle-- I'll be there for you, Gale."

Galen nodded, his eyes sad. "And that is what I fear the most; that you will be there to watch me die." Then he turned his back on Archer and walked shakily onto the field, his body leaning heavily on his walking staff. His shoulders hunched as if he knew what was to come.

And, in a way, Archer knew too.

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