Dark clouds—omens of a fierce and bloody battle to come—gathered over the land, blocking out what little light remained. A cold wind howled, heralding the arrival of night, while the clashing of metal and the chorus of dying men screamed against the silence.
Kane stood far in the back and watched as the fight between the guards and the nefandite army took place, leaving the land in a bloody ruin, where patches of grass were eaten away by flames and littered with the corpses of both sides. Many instances of red and green magic flew across the battlefield, some even going as far as to where he stood, feeling the blood in his veins grow cold and icy, forced to narrowly dodge.
Quickly, he crouched and flipped through the grimoire's ream in search of any spells, feeling the rush of magic go right past him, whether it be beams or pulses. But even so, he lacked the knowledge to know what he was looking for. He knew that if he'd have to get closer, death would trail not far behind, for he lacked the battle sense to anticipate the enemy's next moves and attacks.
Seeing that many guards were wounded and growing weary, he stopped on the perfect page, staring at a phrase in a language he'd never seen, before he flicked his wrist and yelled, "Sana vulneris!"
The wand heeded his call as he pointed towards a guard laying in the grass further up ahead, pouring forth a golden stream of light, clashing with a hue of white within, that reached to the guard's wounded arms and chest, sealing them shut.
Slowly, the guard stood up once again, brandishing his pike before he returned to the battle with haste, going on to kill a nefandis knight that was caught off guard.
Kane cheered in his mind, though he knew this much was not even close to being called a start. He searched through the spells listed under the word "vitalis". There, he found a new spell and slowly dragged his wand through the air, as though he were cutting through it, yelling, "Sana omnes!"
Again, the wand heeded his call, sending forth a wave of golden-white that flew straight to the frontlines, colliding with the ground, guards, and nefandites. Though, of course, for someone who was only just beginning to delve into the realm of magic, an adverse effect followed afterward.
It wasn't one that affected him directly, but it was undeniably a problem when he watched the wounded nefandites, touched by the radiance, beginning to stand once again.
"No fucking way," he mumbled, gritting his teeth as he watched the healed guards having to deal with healed nefandites. This magic shit is harder than I thought, but it doesn't help when nothing is written in plain fucking Teivelic!
And while he searched through the ream, he sensed a familiar presence in the eerie solitude, knowing that things were a little too perfect for him to be sitting back here and casting.
He quickly darted his gaze back, taking noticed of the two nefandis assassins running with silenced footsteps, their sheet-like armour dragging in the wind.
Great, just what I needed to deal with.
Indeed, it was something that he needed to deal with, for his wrists were on a first name basis with their grips. Only this time, they each held two black daggers, curved like a slithering snake that blended well with the night.
Time to test this one out, he waved his wand over his head as he said, "Periculum locus." A shimmering white light had him vanish, ending up behind them without having to move his legs, putting the assassins between him and the battlefield, closer towards the pillars.
Confused, the assassins scanned the area, seeing only the carnage unfold before them.
"Vulnes infero!" yelled Kane, snarling as he swung his arm over his head before whipping his hand, revealing his location.
Within a split second, the assassins turned back, dashing out of the way of a red pulse that passed between them. Having located their target, they pursued him, watching as Kane ran past the pillars, rushing into Thalamar.
Shit! Shit! Shit! he yelled internally as his snarl quickly turned into that of a worried one as he dashed through the streets, running into an alleyway where he vanished into the shadows. Why do these spells need a verbal component!? he wondered as he stopped running, resting with his back pressed against a wall.
Great question... is what one would've said if spellcasting was focused around being an assassin. Kane not understanding why there was a verbal component to spellcasting was a clear indicator of his lack of knowledge between the different archetypes of combat. But even so, he started wondering how he was able to cast a spell once without any verbal component, and how Maleagant and the bishop were able to cast spells without saying anything.
Nevertheless, such a matter was trivial when he was preyed upon. He listened to the sounds of muffled footsteps walking along the creaking wooden rooftops. Kane closed his eyes, focusing on discerning direction as he held his breath.
One on this house, and the other... He silenced his thoughts, closing his eyes harder as though that would change anything. Where's the other one? he asked himself, opening his eyes and looking up at the rooftop just in front of him. Oh, how convenient. He stared at the assassin perched along the ledge of the triangular roof, looking straight at him, as though to spite him for such a vain attempt at hiding.
He flicked his wrist once again, yelling, "Luminis!", firing a bright, blinding bolt at the assassin that collided with the smallest bit of the roof's tip, exploding into a harmless ball of light.
The assassin flinched, stumbling back as the harsh light blinded him, giving Kane the chance to run through the alleyway, though the other assassin quickly followed, leaping across the rooftops. He took a few turns here and there, attempting to lose the assassin in the erratic change of direction, though it proved useless in the face of someone trained to track their mark.
Kane looked back for a moment, watching as the assassin kept up with his incredible speed, which was a first for him. He'd reach a point where the alleyways no longer stretched much further out, leading him into the heart of Thalamar, where the paved roads intersected on a slight elevation.
In the centre of the elevated intersection stood a beautiful fountain. Water flowed from a spout, spilling onto small bowl, which spilled onto another, larger one, and then onto a larger, final one at the base, spilling through a small gap in the ground into a pond below the elevated surface.
Upon seeing the water, Kane remembered a spell that he briefly glanced at under a page titled "Aqua", which was easy enough to understand.
He pointed his wand at the water, fluttering his hand as he said, "Aqua sphera!"
Immediately afterward, a thin stream of water flowed from the pond, glistening in the white moonlight that peered from just over the rooftops, seamlessly drawn to the tip of the wand as it flew in an arc, gathering into a sphere.
Kane looked back, watching as the assassin rushed to the edge of the rooftop and leapt straight for him. Without second thoughts, he pointed the sphere of water at the nefandite and flicked his wrist, firing it straight at him. Kane could've sworn he heard his nemesis scoff, watching as he sliced right through the orb, but the assassin quickly found the two hemispheres encase him within, holding in him the air.
Kane's worried look instantly lifted, and a wellspring of elation washed over him. His jaw hung and his brows struggle to stay on his face as he raised his hands up and shook them in triumph, yelling with a high-pitched voice, "Woooo yeah baby! Hell fuckin' yeah! That's right, bitch!"
He watched as the assassin clearly struggled to get out, desperately trying to find a chance to live, until he met his untimely demise by asphyxiation, marked by his arms that gave up and floated in the rippling sphere.
Poor guy. Punished with death for simply doing his job.
Okay, okay. Calm down, Kane, there's still one more, he told himself, quickly glancing left and right as he dropped his concentration on the water sphere, letting the water and corpse smack against the ground. Where is he?
Save for the fountain's overflowing water, the area was silent. Too silent. A chilly gust blew across the area, letting the flaps of his coat sway back.
If he's not on my left, right, or above... then that means, he quickly turned around, though it was too late, the assassin knocked the grimoire out of his hand and held a dagger up to his throat, pressing it against what little flesh was there, while grabbing Kane's wrist and squeezing it. The pressure alone was enough to force Kane to drop the wand, its collision echoing in his ears as he grit his teeth and frowned, staring into the darkness that veiled the assassin's face, seeing tiny yellow dots for eyes peering straight into his.
The assassin kicked his leg, slamming his prey onto the ground as he pressed a little deeper with his dagger, making sure the curve slotted with his prey's throat. Kane, who was previously hitting the assassin's chest with his free hand, gave up and closed his eyes, preparing for the darkness that would present itself in death.
"Let's see, how it feels," said the assassin, finally revealing a voice, airy and hissing like a serpent's, each syllable drawn out, "when you drown in your own—"
The sound of metal ripping through metal echoed in Kane's ears, followed by a heavy thud as he felt the pressure of the blade released from his neck. He opened his eyes, taking notice of the body being thrown aside, finding the one person he least expected to be standing before him.
"The bishop!?" yelled Kane, quickly kicking along the ground to make some distance, before grabbing his wand and pointing it at him as he glared with a snarl, drawing quick yet heavy breaths. "You fucking swine, prepare to—"
He shut himself up as he stood with a trembling arm, taking notice of a black longsword dripping with the assassin's blood. Upon further inspection, the silver armour was pristine, as though it never saw the struggle of war, and its layered, angled backward horns were fully intact. His cape was in perfect condition too, flowing in the wind, carrying an intimidating aura. But what was truly distinguishing was a brown bag strapped across the body, hanging just above the greaves.
Kane watched as the figure sheathed the longsword, reaching for its helm and slowly removing it to reveal the face of Bauer, who wore a light smile.
Kane squinted as he frowned, slowly walking over. "Bauer? What the fuck are you doing here?"
He shrugged with pursed lips, closing his eyes as he sighed. "I thought you might need a bit of—"
He paused, caught off guard as he felt Kane's head pressed against his chestplate, looking down to find the boy hugging him.
Kane let the armour dig into the side of his face. "I'm sorry," he said with a shaky voice and a heartbeat that reverberated through his body. "I didn't mean what I said... Thanks for coming back."
Bauer stared at him for a few moments of silence, before hugging Kane as well. "No need to thank me... That's what brothers are for."
Kane nodded, restricting tears as he squeezed tighter. Bauer immediately tapped his back—not to console him or out of affection.
"Let... go," he wheezed, trying to push away. "You're making this weird now."
Kane let go immediately, stepping back and taking his attention to the decapitated assassin, while Bauer shook his head and placed his helm back on, taking a good look at the heart of Thalamar as he slowly walked over.
Unlike the rest of the city, four species of trees rested in a patch of grass some tens of metres away from the fountain. Each one bearing a similar, curved shape, distinguished mainly by the colours of their falling leaves. One had leaves that were white, another with green ones, one with bright red and orange leaves, and the last wore a delicate pink.
Kane looted the black, serpentine daggers off the two assassins, studying them thoroughly. There wasn't much to say about them, other than the fact that they were as short as the distance between his shoulders to his neck. Their curvature was like that of a kris, only accentuated with deeper curves, and their faces were as black as the shadows.
"It would truly be a shame to see this place fall," said Bauer, his voice distorted by the mask, looking around as he held onto the grimoire, which Kane had nearly forgotten about. "But it'll be even worse when its people are sacrificed."
Kane pocketed the daggers, snatching the grimoire out of Bauer's hands as he walked south, passing by the fountain. "Honestly, I don't mind letting one or two of them go. It might make me feel better about myself."
"You're fucked up for saying that," replied Bauer, trailing not far behind, transitioning into a jog with Kane.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh please, I'm not even really fighting for these fuckers." He looked to his left to find Bauer keeping up with him. "We could win this battle, and I know they'd go back to calling me a rat bastard, or better yet, the Piss Stain of Thalamar."
"Then what are you fighting for?"
"Well, I just got a house to my name, a bunch of silver, herbs, and potions... We should probably make sure that we get that."
"Already went ahead an did that," said Bauer, tapping the brown bag he wore.
Kane raised a brow before looking ahead as they left the heart of the city and entered the streets. "Motherfucker, you went to steal my shit?"
"No," he waved a finger, "I didn't go to steal, otherwise I would've ran off with it."
Kane sighed as his slackened jaw yawed to one side, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, thank fuck you did that. Otherwise not only would I be dead, but I'd also have my fortune stolen from me!"
"If you were dead, your fortune wouldn't have mattered anyway, dumbass."
"Stop making sense!"
And while they continued with their petty bickering, the two made it to the west exit, where the battle was taking place—or rather, what should have been the battle.
Most of the guards were torn asunder, some laying in a pool of their own blood, some with their dismembered bodies scattered across the land, and some pummelled into juice under the weight of the towering, spiked-mace wielders.
Kane and Bauer stood not far past the wooden pillars, watching as the nefandite army, despite having suffered a considerable blow to their numbers, were still plentiful and just as determined to storm Thalamar.
"What are those giants?" asked Kane, his legs quaking as he was beginning to realize that perhaps Bauer was right all along. Perhaps it would've been wiser to have everyone flee, for there was no way they and the few guards that remained could fight against the hundreds of nefandites alone.
"Those ones in the dark armour? They're nefandis brutes. If you ask me, they've got a touch of beasthood... Well, maybe they've gone past dipping their toes in and have been swimming in it for a bit."
They watched as one of the brutes charged forth, using his body alone to send some guards flying into the air as it held no regard for who it crushed under its boulder-like greaves, roaring into the night with a voice deeper and louder than a lion's.
Kane slowly panned his head over to Bauer, staring at him with upward slanted brows. "You think?"
"It's only my first time seeing them too," he crossed his arms, "you know?"
Kane returned his gaze to the slaughter fest, shaking his head as he bit his lip. "Fuck, how do we win against those things?"
Bauer loudly blew out, tapping his gauntlets, along with his foot. "You'd need someone of equal physical strength or an incredibly powerful mage." He looked over to Kane's wand. "And by the looks of it, you're not quite there yet, and neither am I even nearing their calibre."
As much as Kane wanted to believe there was a way, the truth of Bauer's words stung deep. He lacked the ability to wield magic effortlessly, not to mention the lack of knowledge regarding it and his foes.
Bauer sighed, slowly removing his helm to reveal a grim face. "This is why I said we should evacuate. Even if you had the manpower, you lacked the strength to come out victorious." He pointed off into the distance at another brute. "Take a look at that."
Kane watched as a brute swung its spiked-mace like a baseball bat, sending guards flying everywhere, while the ones that still stood poked with their pikes against its burnished and dark armour, finding their efforts vain. The brute only had its aggression drawn to the ones that weren't already either crushed or flying for a home run, snuffing out their souls shortly afterward.
"Kane, we need to go now," continued Bauer, placing a hand on his shoulder as he stared at the side of his bewildered face. "We need to live to fight another day. We need to get stronger."
Kane remained silent, letting the words mix with the echo of the brutes' roars, slowly shaking his head as he looked down, hope fleeing his eyes. "Are we just going to leave them? Ephraim is out there, I can't leave him to die. He's one of the only two people who've helped me all this time." He pulled out the ten silver coins that Ephraim gave him two nights ago, remembering the warning the kind guard gave him. "Your life is worth more than some herbs."
"Kane, listen to me," urged Bauer, his voice strained against the fear that they were losing time. "I'm only saying this because I realized the meaning of Maleagant's words."
Kane's gaze quickly dashed to meet with Bauer's frozen eyes. The meaning?
"Regret is an opportunity missed," he said, pushing a finger into Kane's chest. "You are making a choice based on regret. That is a mistake... Those were the words he told me, and I've finally realized their meaning. I was so hasty to make my decisions based on an opportunity I once missed. The doors closed long ago! Throwing my life away in order to atone for my regret is a mistake. A new opportunity presents itself—one that can lead me on the path to strength, so that later I may be able to fight Nefandyr. If I decide to go and fight now, making rash choices, then I will have never truly gotten past my regret, and I would have lost my life too."
Kane slowly looked down, his eyes erratically bouncing in all directions, slowly nodding as he reflected on Bauer's revelation.
"If you understand that much," continued Bauer, pulling his hand back as he stood upright, "then you will take this chance to hone your skills as a mage, and fight back once you've trained; once you're more capable."
Kane remained silent for a few moments, only letting out a heavy sigh once he made his decision. "Alright," he said, his voice carrying conviction, cementing himself onto the path of growth, "let's go back to Maleagant's place and take whatever we can before we leave."
"We don't have anymore storage though."
"Yes," replied Kane, reaching into his pocket as he pulled out a small brown pouch, "we do."
***
About ten minutes would pass by until the nefandites had completely decimated the guards, letting their corpses act as a reminder for all would dare to pass through the land:
"Such is the fate of all who find the false courage to challenge Nefandyr," said the tall figure wearing the muted green, asymmetrical blunt-horned helm, clearly the commander. His voice, deep, commanding, clear, and just as powerful as his squared blade that destroyed the pillars of the west entrance in a single swing.
He stopped just as he passed the invisible border, pointing his blade forth with an extended arm.
"Go," he ordered, letting the brutes lead the rest of the army as they marched around him, "and drag them out of their hiding." He dug his sword into the paved road, destroying it effortlessly, crossing his arms as he stood tall.
He watched as the brutes broke through the many houses' log walls with ease, creating a new, taller doorway for all to enter through, while the cries of the denizens only added on to the sound of wood being demolished and heavy, ground-shattering footsteps.
Some, who felt the need to resist, were rewarded with broken legs and arms, if they were lucky enough to not have them severed off, for all that was needed were their souls. Others quietly gave in, hoping to attain mercy from merciless people.
How sad it was to hold onto hope any longer. Was it not clear enough? Was Nefandyr's ruthless image degraded into one of weakness? It was repulsive to the commander; an offense that deserved no quarter brooked; a sign of weakness on the bishop's part.
Speaking of the devil, the bishop himself limped past the now destroyed pillars, taking a look at all the destruction taking place, watching the chaos play out. He remained silent, slowly making his way over to stand next to the commander.
"You disgrace Nefandyr," said the commander, peering at the tiny man through the corner of his eye, though there were no apparent eyeholes or visors on his helm, spitefully adding, "bishop."
The bishop remained silent, watching as more remained silent than those who'd tried to resist. It would've been a surprise for him, but at this point in time, he was too disappointed in himself to even harbour such a reaction. His mind had dulled, not even stung by the commander's words, for he knew it to be true.
"You created an image of weakness," continued the commander, scoffing at the sight as he pointed with an extended hand. "Bear witness to your incompetence."
"Forgive me, my lord," replied the bishop, his usually clear and cold voice masking his shame. "I will not—"
"And the two? Where are they now?"
The bishop drew a quiet yet deep breath, petrified in place as he felt his blood freeze. He dared not to move an inch as he struggled against his trembling limbs. His mind went blank as he stood beside the commander, as though he were standing in the shadow of a god, who could, within the blink of an eye, obliterate him... if this shadow of a god was feeling merciful.
"I asked you a question, bishop. Do not make me repeat myself."
"I... I do not know, my lord. They took refuge in Thalamar along with..." He paused as he remembered his duel with Maleagant. "With the traitor, Malevolus. I fear that they may have fled."
"Ah, your old master, Malevolus. A pity, it is, that one of the most promising bishops forsook his oath, and left with us his failed legacy; an apprentice left in his shadow; a pebble at the foot of the mountain. Isn't that right," he paused for a moment, looking to his right to see his subordinate clearly, once again spitefully adding, "Bishop Malevoleth?"
"I have slain Malevolus myself. I have become greater than that traitor, my lord."
"If you had truly become greater than Malevolus," the commander's voice hissed, as though he were reaching into Malevoleth's mind, plaguing him with his spiteful tone, "then I would not be here. If you had truly become greater than Malevolus, then you would have kept your territory. If you had truly become greater than Malevolus, then you would not have lost hundreds of sacrifices to the cunning of two younglings."
Malevoleth lowered his gaze to the ground, growing frustrated with not only himself, but the truth. Each mention of the phrase, "if you had truly become greater", truly a plague that gnawed at his mind.
"Perhaps I ought to incorporate them into our ranks and place you under their leadership, Bishop Malevoleth."
Now the bishop simply carried disdain towards the commander, for there was no greater insult to him than to be viewed as lesser—for his authority to be undermined—by comparison to a traitorous layman and a less than average boy from Thalamar.
Still, he kept himself in check, letting go of the emotions that he worked so hard to expel. "I will do better, my lord."
"Yes, you will," concurred the commander, ripping his sword out from the ground as he watched the last of the denizens being dragged out of their homes, resting his greatsword on his shoulder as he walked away. "You will see to it that you do better by any means necessary, or you shall face more than just my kind words."
Malevoleth stood in the centre of it all, continuing to stare at the ground whilst the nefandis brutes led the others that dragged the newly acquired sacrifices out of Thalamar. He let go of his breath that plagued him, dropping his tense stance. Truly, he was given kind words, in comparison to whatever else would await him, should he prove to be useless again.
He took one good look back at Thalamar, listening to the crackling and pops of fire that set the city ablaze, razing it all to the ground while smoke polluted the air, like one giant bonfire. Slowly, he turned away, and walked off, following the others out.
And from far into the north, across fog, Kane and Bauer stood atop a hill, wind occasionally blowing against them. They, and the moon, watched as Thalamar was being erased off the face of the world, burning away into oblivion.
Kane took one last good look at what he once called home, before walking off, with his new purpose in life discovered.
They were the only ones who could say that they made it out with their lives; the only ones who could tell the tale of The Fall of Thalamar and the Revenge of Nefandyr.