Halvor’s roaring voice cut through the air as he came to the top and sprinted down a short passage. The paladin was in a small chamber, shining like a beacon as he slammed his hammer into a dark shape. A second shape loomed up in front of Aravos, its white fangs flickering in the half light. The Deathknight’s eyes widened as he recognized Eli, his face shrunken and grey, with long teeth sprouting from a misshapen face. He swore and backpedaled, driving his long blade into the newly made ghoul’s chest. The creature moaned and tried to force itself further along the heavy weapon, snapping its jaws as it sought out flesh.
“I’m sorry,” whispered Aravos as he ripped the sword free and crushed the dead paladin’s head with the hilt. A second ghoul, one of the soldiers, lurched from the shadows, waving its withered arms. Metal sparked on metal as he split the man’s helm, sending him to the floor in a broken heap. Halvor roared again, grief and rage adding to his strength as he used the light to burn a ghoul to dust.
“Vampire!” he howled, bulling through another doorway. “Come out! You turned my friends into monsters! My family! Come out and burn!”
The vampire appeared in a cloud of smoke, a tall, skeletal shape that towered over the paladin, it’s red eyes shining with foul magic. Halvor wavered for a moment and the creature seized him with claw like hands, opening its wide mouth to plunge its fangs into the man’s exposed neck. The paladin cried out and his armor pulsed with light, raising steam as the holy magic bit at the undead fingers. The big man’s armor clattered on the floor as the beast hissed and ducked away, shaking its burned hands. Aravos stormed after Halvor, stepping around him as he bore down on the vampire, his runeblade raised and shining with a ghostly light. Halvor recovered as the vampire tried to retreat, raising his hand to blast the monster with a beam of golden light, the last scraps of magic he could muster. The holy spell stunned the vampire and Aravos growled, catching it around the throat and locking it in place with a powerful web of dark energy.
“Why?” asked the vampire as the Deathknight forced it to its knees. It stared up at Aravos with hatred. “Why? They are nothing like us….”
“No,” Aravos replied, plunging his blade into the creature’s chest, piercing its heart. “They’re better….”
As the body turned to ash and drifted to the floor, the Tower gave a great shudder. Halvor rose to his feet, wearily picking up his hammer. He groaned, stretching out his bruised muscles.
“Now what?” he asked. “Where’s the heartstone or whatever it’s called.”
Aravos brushed the foul ash from his blade and jerked his chin upwards. “They form in the Tower’s peak, the highest room. Come on, we have to hurry, before it can choose another master.”
“You’re not going anywhere without me,” gasped Devon as he staggered into the room. He glared at Aravos. “Did you encase me in an ice tomb?”
The Deathknight couldn’t help but chuckle. “It was a frost shield. Can you make it?”
“I’ll help him,” Halvor said, steadying the wounded knight. “Lead the way Deathknight.”
The Tower shook again, sending flakes of obsidian down on them as they climbed the last narrow stair. It was longer than the rest and they were forced to move slowly as the floor lurched in the throes of mighty magic. Aravos could feel the dark powers stirring, resonating in a part of his soul that he wished didn’t exist. He gritted his teeth, struggling to push the feeling of the damned king’s necromantic powers away. The oppressive magic only grew stronger as they reached the final floor, lit by a large gem resting on a dark altar. Halvor faltered slightly behind him, shaken by the sense of evil that filled the chamber. Devon groaned, slipping from the paladin’s arms and sliding to the floor, gagging.
Aravos remembered the paladin king’s kind eyes and gritted his teeth, forcing away the nausea as he stepped closer to altar and the stone. He could feel the good king’s spell burning away the Tower’s influence, undoubtedly the only thing that saved him from succumbing again to the will of the damned throne. His runeblade reacted to the same magic that had caused its creation and began to vibrate in his hand, heating his armor until he could no longer bear to hold on. The humming weapon fell from his hand and clattered on the floor, sliding away to slam into the wall with a harsh ring of tortured metal. The Deathknight swore and took another step, willing himself forward. Behind him, Halvor was on the ground beside Devon, using what little magic he could muster to keep the man conscious and alive. The paladin looked up, his eyes still shining with light.
“Take my hammer,” he said, catching Aravos with his gaze. “If I move, Devon will die… the Tower’s sapping his strength too quickly.”
Aravos nodded and leaned down as the paladin slid his hammer over the floor. The weapon was familiar, but dreadfully heavy as the power of the light resisted the Deathknight’s touch. He picked it up, straining to hold it steady as he plead with the light to remember the champion he had once been. For a moment nothing happened, but then the ghostly light of the runes in his skin faded and the hammer began to glow, becoming lighter in his hands. The power of the Tower wavered for just a moment and he surged forward, bringing the great weapon down on the large crystal. The hammer rebounded, shooting pain down Aravos’ arms. He roared in defiance and swung again, willing the gemstone to shatter. There was a flash of golden light and the sound of screams filled the air as the Tower shuddered, its power broken. The shards of crystal turned to dust and Aravos sank to the floor, letting go of the hammer as the light faded away, once more replaced by the potent magic of his runic tattoos. He could feel the dead Tower begin to crumble around him and he turned to look at his surviving companions.
Halvor nodded, drained of power, unable to stand. Devon stirred beside him, opening his eyes as the obsidian structure began to crack and break apart. Aravos sighed and bowed his head as the floor lurched and began to fall, resigned to die, crushed by the Tower they had defeated. There was a terrible sound of stone collapsing on stone and everything went dark.
The pain of crushing stone never came. Aravos opened his eyes, looking around at the forest in confusion. The Tower was more than a hundred yards away, nothing more than a pile of shattered stone and dust. The undead that had filled the clearing were gone as well, turned to ash without the power of the damned king to hold them in the world. Halvor was near him, his eyes wide and shocked. Devon was on his knees, his simple armor and blade shining with a soft, silver gold light.
“Your first miracle,” breathed the Deathknight in awe. “You’ve done it!”
Halvor chuckled helplessly and clapped the knight on the shoulder. “I’ll be damned… a Deathknight uses the light and a man five years past the choosing becomes a paladin in the same day. I would have never believed it.” He rose shakily to his feet and extended a hand to Aravos, helping him up. “And to top it off we took back territory for the first time in this whole stinking war. Maybe we have a chance after all.”
Aravos looked down at his runeblade, somehow safely at his feet. The ghostly blue of the runes had changed slightly, brightened by thin threads of gold. He nodded. “Maybe we do.”
End
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