Tales of Cobardon

Chapter XVIII

Micura 

Rulerstead might think they were winning but they weren't, not if Sabrina's plan succeeds. They had the numbers lead, mass destruction had been dealt from the fleet's cannons and the archers stationed on the Tower though, the Tower was now majorly compromised. Soulcrusher, Benz's warship, now again hoisted the Wingbearer flag.

One death machine of theirs was still intact – the mage cadre. At least hundred other sorcerers, wizards, mages and warlocks stood behind Nameles with its reptilian head. The cadre was protected by a semi-circle of 1,000 soldiers, facing towards the fray, leaving the backside of the cadre open to a soulless patch of desert, which was to their south. Nameless tightly grasped a quarterstaff, which had a transparent glass lining sandwiched in the canter. The staff had a labouriosly cut, gleaming crystal placed atop it. Each magic-practitioner standing behind Nameless focused a straight, blueish beam of energy towards the crystal.

Nameless's eyes were closed in concentration while blue, magical clouds swirled in a tight circle upon his hands, which were clasped to the quarterstaff. A steady stream of indigo shafts of energy ejaculated out of the crystal. Nameless spun the staff around to determine where the beam struck. Realization dawned on Micura – magicians were wayward by nature – this technique focused their powers, while the crystal magnified each individual caster's power into a single, concentrated beam of magic which burned through the battlefield like a torch through paper. 

 The sun had passed the noon mark. He had returned to the protection behind the semi-circle to collect his thoughts and catch a breath. He had to shove thoughts of his child outside of his head if he were to fight the battle well. 

After a moment of peace he emerged out again. An injured soldier of Rulerstead lay on the ground. Micura guessed him to be some low-posted commander due to the fact that he was using a healing spell, though quite a basic and ineffective one. It was rare among the infantry to know any spells but, as soon as any got promoted to the post of a commander they were taught few basic spells. The higher they got the more they divulged into magic. Sorcery was not a difficult thing to do, anyone could be taught their first spell within an hour. The reason why majority of the crowd didn't know magic was that the knowledge had been deprived to them, with due reason. Magic was a deadly tool of destruction in unwise hands. Once even the most basic spells were taught the general public, they would learn more themselves and teach others and become more deadly and uncontrollable. This would do nothing but increase the chances of a rebellion. If not this then they would at least realise how easy it was to cast magic and would demand more knowledge. Thus, it was decided that it would be better to let magic be nothing more than a wonder to the general public.

He observed the soldier silently, as the commander's wound healed at a fatally, sluggish pace. He won't survive, a clean death will be a blessing to him, Micura thought and with that he swung his sword of darkness, which tore through the soldier's armor, skin and bones with malicious ease.

An elephant-rider was trampling through the battlefield, breaking every line any commander from Wingbearer attempted to form. It had to be put down. Micura ran into the elephant's path, piquing the creature's attention. The elephant brought down a massive trunk to bang it against Micura's head. Micura didn't even stir but simply held his sword above his head. The trunk sliced into two the second it made contact with the black, devouring blade. Blood sprayed out of the opening. Micura brought down his sword and struck it against the ground. A darkness surrounded them, the elephant, elephant-rider and Micura had been teleported to another pocket of space, devoid of light. With inhumane speed Micura went through both the rider and elephant chopping them into uneven rectangular pieces. 

The darkness abruptly faded and they were back on Barren Lands. The blocks of bones and flesh tumbled and scattered across the arena. Micura looked ahead and saw Trevan with a sword in his hand which emanated light.

A newfound energy burst through him – he had to finish an incomplete task!

With a smirk he stated, "We meet again!"

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Trevan

Magical energy surged through him on Micura's sight. He asked, "Are you to expended to cast magic? If yes, then this might shall be devoid of sorcery."

A thin ray of ice sprang, from Micura's finger, towards Trevan, which he blocked with the flick of his finger. The answer was clear.

He roared rushing to cut Micura. Micura didn't budge, Trevan's sword meeting a barrier of force. He pressed on. His sword slid through the blockage and Micura winced at it, while smoothly bringing his own sword to Trevan's. Light met Darkness! They both felt strength flooding into them, initiating from the very fingers that grasped the great-swords. They both pressed back with twice the strength. 

They both held till the force clashing was too immense to contain. It felt as if a bomb detonated and they both were thrown back. Trevan flung his face to look in Micura's direction. A mighty stream of energy was rushing towards him. He spread his arms outward, embracing an internal peace. He didn't need to struggle, he didn't to kill! The beam hit his torso, his body writhing slightly due to impact. The energy didn't hit me, rather it entered him – eager to be shaped by nothing but Taperend's sheer will. 

The sorcery burst out of his chest – an arrow grimly determined to hit home. Micura's hands instinctively sprang in front of his body in a near 'x' shape. The light was blinding; the beam battered his protective ward. All his strength and stamina spend to maintain the wall of force.

The beam ended. Micura lowered his hands, his eyes blinded by the brightness of the spell. He blinked rapidly so that his eyesight would return. 

The world came into view, a horrific view though – Trevan mid-air with his sword of light raised over his heads. Trevan's body flew towards Micura, the sword coming to down! 

A grinding sound boomed in his ears, Micura's head splitting under the sharp blade!

Trevan heard two words before Micura's body collapsed to the ground. The two words rung pleadingly in his head – 'My Daughter'!