The Astor, the Torak, and the Star of Sakova turned to stare at Emperor Vand as if he were mad. The ageless man still sat calmly on his throne where he had just watched the battle resulting in the death of his last demon. He acted as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Without warning, a fireball suddenly screamed towards Lyra, and Rejji shouted a warning, but it was unnecessary. Lyra instantly erected her blue cylinder, and the magical projectile was instantly absorbed. Another fireball headed towards Marak, but the Torak dove to the floor, and the projectile impacted on the body of the dead demon where it produced no damage. Vand laughed hysterically.
“If you two are merely going to stay protected and wait for me to die,” cackled Vand, “you should be aware that I will never die. I am a god. I do not even require food or water. A waiting game is not in your best interests. No one will enter or leave this room until I allow it. Drop the shield, Star of Sakova. You cannot cast against me while you hide within it, and that demon will decompose soon. Enough, Torak, come show me the spells that your mother taught you.”
Rejji froze. He knew that he could not reach the safety of the demon’s body before Vand struck him down, but strangely, the Motangan Emperor ignored him.
“Come stand before me and receive my judgment,” Vand said to Lyra and Marak.
“You are finished, Vand,” retorted Lyra. “The armies you sent to the Sakova and Khadora are defeated, as is the army sent to find Angragar. Your army of the dead is imprisoned, and your hellsouls are being decapitated as we speak. Your demons are dead, and Pakar and his mages are as well. It is you who should kneel and beg Kaltara for forgiveness.”
“Beg Kaltara?” Vand balked. “What a ludicrous thought. The armies that I sent out were expendable, as were the demons. They are not what this battle is about. Those were just things to keep you occupied and to make sure that you arrived here for this confrontation. It is this meeting that will decide the future of this world, and nothing else matters. I have waited thousands of years for the Torak to be born, just so I could defeat him, and I will defeat him. There is nothing that Kaltara can do to interfere.”
“I don’t believe you,” countered the Star of Sakova. “We have beat you on every other field of battle, and we will beat you here today.”
Vand laughed wickedly. “You are a feisty one, Star of Sakova,” he chuckled. “I shall enjoy watching you suffer.”
“You will have to kill me first,” declared Marak. “It is me that you are after. Grab a sword and let us fight this like men.”
“You, Torak,” sneered Vand as he flicked his wrist towards Marak, “are nothing.”
Marak was suddenly lifted off the floor and magically shoved backward until he struck the wall. He stuck to the wall, a pace above the floor, as if held by a huge invisible hand. Marak struggled, but he could not move.
“It disturbs me that Kaltara made me wait thousands of years and then presented me such a feeble challenger,” Vand shook his head with disgust. “I could kill you right now, but your god must learn to respect my powers. First I will dispose of the Star of Sakova. You will be able to watch and wonder what your own death will feel like.”
Marak gritted his teeth and tried to force himself away from the wall, but he could not move.
“I well know the powers of each of you,” Vand continued, “and you are no match for me. That is what you get for following a fool of a god. Kaltara endowed you with powers that could have defeated me two thousand years ago, but I am not the same person I was then. I have grown with Dobuk’s help. Try me, Torak.”
Vand flicked his wrist again, and Marak tumbled to the floor, the invisible hand no longer restraining him. The Torak did not hesitate. He nodded to Lyra and then charged towards Vand with the Sword of Torak held before him. Lyra dropped her spell that maintained the blue cylinder and brought her fists together, pointing at Vand. A tremendous surge of power shot from Lyra’s fists and headed for Vand while Marak jumped over the table and prepared to sever Vand’s head.
Vand merely grinned at the dual attack. With a slight wave of his hand, a dozen demons suddenly appeared between Vand and the Torak. Lyra’s force bolt reached Vand and instantly disappeared. Her mouth hung open in awe when she saw that there was no outline of a shield shown by the dissipating spell.
Marak faltered and halted his advance to battle the first of the demons. He acted as if he planned to run right past the demon, but at the last minute he pivoted and slashed out at the creature’s leg. The sword slashed clear through the image, and the Torak realized that he was attacking illusions. Lyra tossed a light blade at Vand and immediately summoned her blue cylinder. She watched as the light blade disappeared, again showing no trace of a shield around Vand. Vand cackled and slapped his hand on his thigh.
“That was clever,” the disciple of Dobuk chuckled, “but rather ineffective, wouldn’t you say?”
Vand flicked his wrist again and an invisible force once again shoved Marak backwards. His body struck the table as he flew across the room. With a bone-jarring thud, Marak and the table hit the wall. The legs of the table splintered from the impact as Marak was again held flat against the wall above the floor. A searing pain shot through his back, and he could feel the table between him and the wall. The three chairs smashed into Marak’s legs and splintered from the impact. The Torak howled in pain.
Vand released the spell and Marak tumbled to the floor along with the wooden debris from the crushed chairs and table legs. The room suddenly roared and shook violently. As Lyra watched, a great fissure opened up in the floor between her and Vand. On one side of the fissure were Vand and Rejji. Across the chasm, Marak and Lyra stared in awe at Vand.
“Feel free to throw your body into the crevice, Torak,” laughed Vand. “I guarantee it will be the easiest way out for you.”
Marak groaned with pain, but he rose unsteadily and picked up a piece of a smashed table leg. He walked slowly towards the fissure and tossed the piece of wood into it. The mangled table leg dropped soundlessly into the blackness. Marak frowned as he had expected another illusion or at least to see the lower levels of the temple, but there was nothing but darkness within the crevice.
All this time, Rejji stood motionless, trying to figure out why he was chosen to be in a battle with three powerful people. If Marak’s strength and agility could not best Vand, and Lyra’s magic had no effect, what could he possibly do? The absurdity of his being in the throne room at that moment hit the Astor hard. He looked over at Marak, who appeared to be in great pain, and then at Lyra standing erect within her blue cylinder. He knew that she could not cast out of the safety that the cylinder provided her, so her magic was useless. He shook his head in exasperation.
“What am I supposed to do here?” he shouted to Marak.
Vand laughed and turned his gaze on the Astor. “You are supposed to watch your friends die,” he responded. “When they are defeated, I will offer you power greater than anything you could possibly imagine. For now, all you have to do is stand and observe.”
“I will never serve you,” Rejji blurted out, “nor will I stand idly by and watch Lyra and Marak be killed.”
Vand’s face instantly turned dark as he glared at the Astor. His arms trembled with rage, and he pointed one lone finger at Rejji.
“Move!” shouted Marak.
Rejji dove to the floor and rolled into a ball as Marak had taught him. A large explosion rocked the room as stone tiles shattered, and bits of stone sprayed in every direction. Where Rejji had stood not a moment before, there was a large crater in the tile floor, and dust hanging in the air. Rejji stared at the crater and then locked eyes with Vand. The disciple of Dobuk appeared to be composing himself, and he purposely looked away from the Astor.
Marak frowned at Vand’s actions. The Motangan Emperor appeared to have lost control for a moment, but more importantly, he showed that he did not intend to kill Rejji. The Torak turned and slowly walked back towards Lyra until he stood alongside the Star of Sakova.
“What is going on?” Lyra whispered to Marak.
“I am not sure,” admitted the Torak, “but we have just seen a clue into how to defeat Vand. Now we must understand what it is that we saw.”
Rejji exhaled slowly while Vand still pointedly avoided looking at him. The Astor walked cautiously across the floor and stood directly in front of Vand. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head slightly.
“Forgive me, Emperor,” Rejji said loud enough for all to hear. “Perhaps I spoke with haste.”
Vand turned his head and stared at the Astor. Slowly the hard, cruel features of his rage faded and he nodded slightly.
“Excellent,” smiled Vand. “I have great things in store for you, but first you must lead me to Angragar. Let me dispose of these two, and we can be on our way.”
“But what about the armies outside?” balked Rejji.
“They are of no concern,” shrugged Dobuk’s disciple. “I can destroy them as easily as raising the dead of Vandegar.”
Rejji smiled at the Emperor and nodded his head. “You will like Angragar,” he said with a grin. “The library there is fantastic. You can’t believe all of the things we read there, and how important they are.”
“What are you talking about?” frowned Vand. “I used to live in Angragar. I know the city well. There is nothing there that I have not read.”
“Perhaps it is my vanity that confuses you,” shrugged Rejji, “but I thought if I told you how wonderful Angragar is, you would not reject me.”
“Stop mumbling nonsense,” Vand waved the Astor away. “Wait to one side while I dispose of the Torak and the Star of Sakova. Then we shall leave.”
Rejji moved away from the throne while Marak leaned closer to Lyra.
“That’s it!” he exclaimed softly.
“What?” Lyra asked with a puzzled frown.
“Remember the tomes we read about the early days of Vand in Angragar?” the Torak asked. “Vand steadily grew worse as if he had a mental illness. I remember remarking at the time that his vanity would be his undoing.”
“And he cannot stand rejection,” Lyra nodded vigorously. “Let me handle this. Move away.”
As Marak walked away, the blue cylinder surrounding the Star of Sakova disappeared. Vand noticed the spell dropping and turned his curious gaze towards Lyra.
“Even if you defeat us,” Lyra said loudly, “you will not be permitted to enter Angragar.”
“What are you talking about?” spat Vand. “Angragar is my birthright. If you think Kaltara can stop me from possessing the city, you are deranged.”
“Kaltara has put me in your way,” smiled Lyra. “Before you can leave here, you must defeat me.”
“A small task for my powers,” shrugged Vand, “and a situation I have already planned for.”
“I am sure that you have,” nodded Lyra, “but even then you cannot enter Angragar.”
“Preposterous,” spat Vand. “Who is going to stop me?”
“Dobuk will stop you,” smiled the Star of Sakova.
“I am Dobuk’s disciple,” scowled Vand. “You are speaking nonsense.”
“You have been Dobuk’s disciple,” corrected Lyra, “but that time is over now. The Great Demon will choose a new disciple. You have greatly disappointed Dobuk, just like you have disappointed everyone who has ever known you.”
“I have had millions of followers,” Vand shouted, his fists curling in anger.
“And every one of them hated you,” retorted Lyra. “Every one of them rejected you. They all knew that Dobuk had made a mistake in choosing you, just as Kaltara had made a mistake in choosing you before that. You are a failure, Vand. You are unloved, unaccepted, and feeble.”
Vand’s face contorted in rage, and it was obvious that he would soon strike out at someone. Lyra knew that their only chance of survival rested in directing Vand’s anger towards herself.
“You are so feeble that you cannot even best a young woman like myself,” taunted Lyra. “You are afraid to drop your shield as I have done, because you know that you are a failure and would lose to my superior power.”
Vand’s move was swift when it came. Both of his hands streaked out before him and pointed at Lyra. The young Star of Sakova stood motionless as she stared at Vand. For a long moment the two opposing mages appeared to be frozen in position. Marak stared at Lyra’s face. Her eyes were glassy, and she showed no notice of his presence.
“What is going on?” shouted Rejji from across the room. “Vand looks like he is frozen.”
“Lyra is using an ancient Sakovan spell,” explained the Torak. “It is a contest of raw power. Neither can react to anything while they duel, and the loser will die.”
“But what if Vand has the greater power?” questioned the Astor.
Marak stood speechless for a moment as he recalled the story of Lyra’s battle with her father right after she had become the Star of Sakova. She had greater power than Master Malafar, and her father’s life was only saved by Goral smashing a chair over his head. As Marak watched, he saw Lyra’s face begin to contort with pain, just as Master Malafar’s had.
“What does Vand’s face look like?” shouted Marak.
“He looks angry,” answered the Astor, “just like he did when he tried to kill me.”
“No contortions?” Marak asked frantically.
“No,” Rejji shook his head.
“Use your staff to kill him,” urged the Torak.
Rejji dashed across the room and swung his staff at Vand’s head. The staff rebounded off of the invisible shield surround Dobuk’s disciple.
“He is still shielded,” yelled Rejji.
“Still shielded?” echoed Marak. “Yet he still has the power to destroy her?”
“Perhaps your sword would work better,” Rejji suggested.
Marak stared at the fissure in the floor. He wondered if he could possibly leap over it without falling in. Knowing that a fall into the crevice would mean certain death for all three of them, Marak abandoned the idea and paced nervously. Suddenly, he stopped pacing and stared at the long table that had been set up when they entered the throne room. Sheathing his sword, Marak dragged the table to the edge of the precipice. He grunted with effort as he struggled to stand the table on one of its short edges.
“Hurry,” shouted Rejji.
Marak gasped with exertion as he maneuvered the table into position and pushed it forward. The table fell to the floor creating a bridge over the crevice. The Torak raced across the bridge, avoiding the spot where the demon’s acidic spittle had eaten a hole in it. He unsheathed his sword as he skidded to halt next to the throne. With all his might, Marak swung the Sword of Torak at the Emperor’s head. The sword slammed into the invisible shield, and the vibration of the impact was so severe that Marak dropped the sword.
“It won’t work,” seethed Marak.
“Why won’t it work?” frowned Rejji. “Kaltara would not have let us come this far without providing what we need.”
“Well I wish he would tell us,” shouted Marak as he raced back to check on Lyra.
He stared at Lyra and saw her face grossly distorted. Her limbs were shaking violently and Marak swallowed hard. As he lowered his head in frustration, his eyes landed on the Rapier of the Star. His eyes widened and grabbed Lyra’s sword. With a sword in each hand, the Torak raced over the crevice again and slid to a halt next to Rejji.
“We are the Three,” Marak declared with a sword in each hand. “Kaltara has given us everything we need. Join me in attacking this fiend.”
As the three weapons from Kaltara approached Vand, it became clear that the shield could not stop them. Marak handed the rapier to Rejji and gripped the Sword of Torak with both hands.
“Just prick him,” ordered the Torak.
Rejji shoved the staff and rapier into Vand’s side, blood oozing from the rapier’s puncture. Marak spread his legs wide and swung as hard as he could. As the Sword of Torak sliced through the Vand’s neck, his head flew through the air and rolled along the floor. Vand’s body tilted forward and toppled from the throne. Across the room, Lyra collapsed to the floor. Marak dropped his weapon and raced across the bridge and knelt at her side. Lyra’s body trembled. Her limbs twitched, and her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Marak lifted her head and tried to hold her, but her body was wracked with spasms.
“She needs help,” shouted Marak.
“I am right beside you,” Rejji said softly. “I will go find some healers.”
“How?” Marak gazed up in confusion.
“The doors are back,” pointed Rejji. “Stay calm. I will be right back.”
Tears flowed from Marak’s eyes as he cradled Lyra’s body and rocked back and forth. He knew enough magic to heal a wound, but he could not comprehend what was happening to Lyra’s body. He felt useless.
* * *
“The door won’t open,” scowled Xavo as he stood with Princess Alastasia and Lady Mystic outside the door leading to Dobuk’s domain.
“Stand aside,” ordered Lady Mystic.
Xavo glanced at his partner and nodded as he moved to one side of the doorway. Lady Mystic extended both fists towards the door. The air shimmered for an instant as the magical projectile slammed into the door, but nothing changed. Lady Mystic tried again, but to no avail. The door would not budge.
“It has been a long time since the doors to the throne room disappeared,” sighed Xavo. “Lyra will be dead by the time we reach Dobuk. She might already be dead for all we know.”
“I don’t know what else to try,” Lady Mystic said defensively. “We have tried brawn, and we have tried magic. I do not know what else to do. If we do not distract Dobuk, all is lost. There is no mage alive who is stronger than my father.”
Princess Alastasia frowned at Lady Mystic. While her words may have been true, it was not helping the situation for Xavo to hear them.
“Let me try,” the elven princess said.
Lady Mystic shrugged and shook her head as if the suggestion was ludicrous, but she moved away. Xavo looked curiously at the elf.
“What can you do, MistyTrail?” asked Xavo. “I thought elven magic was mostly healing?”
“Elven magic focuses on life forms of all kinds,” explained Princess Alastasia, “even dead and dormant life forms.”
“Necromancy?” frowned Xavo.
“Not exactly,” the elf shook her head. “Although the magic in theory would work on higher life forms, I am hoping to manipulate the wood in the door. If I can control it, I can cause the door to open a hole for us to pass through.”
“Try it,” Xavo urged. “Nothing else seems to work.”
Princess Alastasia moved close to the door to Dobuk’s chamber. She placed her right hand flat against the door and felt the wood.
“The door is ancient,” the elven princess remarked.
As she placed her left hand on the door to begin her casting, the door suddenly swung open. A look of surprise came over her face as she turned and stared at Xavo. Lyra’s father’s eyes brightened immediately. He pushed the elf aside and burst into the room ready to strike the moment his eyes landed on the Great Demon. Lady Mystic hurried in behind him, but Princess Alastasia remained outside as they had agreed.
After several minutes of silence, Princess Alastasia peeked around the corner of the doorway. She saw Xavo and Lady Mystic standing still. They were staring at the plain walls of a very small room.
“We spent all this time on the wrong door?” she asked as she entered behind Xavo and Lady Mystic.
“This is not the wrong room,” Lady Mystic shook her head in confusion. “This is where Dobuk resides.”
“Or did,” corrected Xavo. “It is clear that he resides here no longer.”
A distant cry for help split the silence of the empty room. Princess Alastasia cocked her ears and listened. Another cry was heard and she clutched Xavo’s arm in excitement.
“That is Rejji’s voice!” exclaimed the elven Princess. “He must be outside of the throne room for us to hear him.”
The three mages turned and raced out of the room.