Enter Abyss

Chapter 44; Spells of death.

The crowd was nearly silent as the two brothers met in the center of the arena, and for that Archer was grateful.

To him, a cheering crowd would have simply been disrespectful.

Now, as he sat as close to the edge of the fighting pit as he could, he realized that the only people in the crowd who seemed jovial were supporters of Mordren-- and few and far in between they were. 

It seemed as though most of them had truly realized which brother made the better king.

Glancing to his right, Archer saw Pip striding through the crowd, coming up next to him and plopping down on the moss with a huff, a crossbow strapped to her back for seemingly no reason. Odd, for certain, but it wasn't unusual for Pip to be armed to the teeth at a normal event. She probably slept with a dagger under her pillow anyhow.

"I don't want to be here." Pip finally said after a moment.

"I don't think anyone does."

"At least we're not the ones fighting."

"You think that makes it any better?" Archer exploded suddenly, causing several heads to turn his way, "My friend is out there facing what could possibly be his death. Galen could die today, Pip."

Looking thoroughly abashed, Pip only replied coldly. "Right. Sorry. I hadn't thought of that. But has it ever occurred to you that there is someone I love fighting today as well?"

"How could you love someone like that? Like-- like Mordren, for Threndas' sake!"

There was a moment of silence as Pip hesitated.

Finally, she answered softly, as if she wanted no one else to hear but him. "Perhaps it was because he accepted me for who I was... not who he wanted me to be." she shook out her shoulders then, "Still, he bloody used me, the twit. And I'm not sure he really loved me. Not like... not like you and Cogs do."

Archer sighed, his anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. But just as he was going to repliy-- nay, appologize, more like-- the horn sounded, and his eyes snapped back to the battle field, his body going rigid.

At first, it looked as though nothing was happening; the two brothers simply stood there, facing one another.

Galen moved first, his body slumping to the ground in a kneeling position, his head bowed.

'Is he praying?' Archer thought incredulously, wanting to scream at his friend to do something, anything, as Mordren advanced, his fists beginning to glow a bright red.

With a roar that echoed around the arena, Mordren thrust forth his hands, sending a bolt of scarlet lightning arcing toward Galen's still form-- the energy hitting the boy full on. Yet to Archer's surprise, Galen never flinched. Instead, the lightning fizzled out to nothingness, leaving only a faint crackle in the air.

Eyes widening in disbelief, Archer watched in fascination as Mordren-- now thoroughly enraged-- threw another bolt of lightning, this one so strong that Archer felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Yet once again, Galen did little more than flinch, his eyes closed, his lips moving in silent prayer.

Again and again Mordren struck, each attack growing more and more ferocious, his face twisting into a mask of rage.

And that was when Galen moved.

Eyes snapping open, he rose to his feet, crackling with purple energy, the gem in his forehead alight. Gone was his weakness, and for a moment, he looked like a god descended from the heavens themselves.

Archer held his breath as he watched the king stretch out his hand, his eyes glowing with an inner light. Then, with a rumble like thunder that shook the entire cavern, a flash of light erupted from his outstretched palm.