The Forsaken Hero

The Demon horde responded with a roar and rose to meet the Risen charge. They fell upon the shambling corpses with fervor, rending flesh and ripping rotting limbs from bloated bodies. It was slaughter, far from the bitter struggles and noble battles we’d fought thus far. Just disheveled dead against world-breaking demons.

The initial clash was over in a few minutes. Of the five hundred or so Risen that had approached our position, only a scattered handful remained–left by the evolved demons as chew toys for the weaker scions.

”I thought they’d be stronger,” Elise murmured, pursing her lips. ”How did they overwhelm the elves?”

I let out a sigh, touching my horn. ”Liches. And the Black Mist. As long as a single Risen survives, hidden somewhere, the mist will continue to spread.”

She glanced at me, and Fyren raised an eyebrow. But before I could clarify, Incinderus completed his spell. The massive magic circles collapsed into a single point, forming an impossibly dense sphere of fire mana. He flicked his hand forward, sending the fist-sized sphere into the city. It vanished on the way, too small and fast to be tracked by my eyes, but I wasted no time burying my face in Fable’s fur.

The first thing to hit us was the shockwave, smashing against my wards with the force of a seventh-circle spell. A thunderous roar came next, followed by a ceaseless cascade of rippling secondary explosions of fire and high-speed winds. Fable turned his shoulder, taking the brunt of the heat and force, letting my wards focus on absorbing the magical impacts.

When the last explosions faded away, I healed the ringing in my ears and peeked out from Fable’s fur. My eyes widened as I took in the devastation.

The chasm had been blown right open, nearly doubling the size of the crater Echo Heart had rested in. Molten earth and stone flowed into the canyon, mixing with the rivers in belching geysers of steam and cinders. Above even that, a towering plume of smoke rose into the sky, forming a vaguely Fires raged across the forest, every bush a candle, and every tree a torch. Of those trees, only the oldest trunks with the deepest roots remained standing at all. Most were toppled over, their roots flung up and burning.

”I...so much fire,” R’lissea whispered.

”Would you rather it be Black Mist spreading through the world instead?” Fyren asked.

She wordlessly shook her head. I lacked the same empathy for the woods as the Life hero, but it was still saddening to see so much natural beauty consumed in ash. I couldn’t help but superimpose it on my memories of Heartland, and the ache in my chest became sharper.

Fyren gave another command, and the scions fell back. It was then that I noticed that Fyren had only sent out the Fire Demons, minimizing our losses to Incinderus’s magic. I shook my head, grateful again that I had such competent allies. It was a simple strategy, yet one I wouldn’t have thought of till long after the battle ended.

”Where’s R’lissea?” Elise asked worriedly, staring up at the rising mushroom-shaped cloud.

”Right here.”

We turned at Zephyriss’s muscial voice, squinting against the sun. The storm demon lord hovered a dozen feet in the air, her pack around them. The demon carrying R’lissea alighted on the ground, letting her get off. Her legs wobbled slightly as she stumbled to us, face downcast and shadowed.

I bit my lip, forestalling my quesiton. The answer was written all over her face.

”I’m sorry,” I said as gently as I could.

Her shoulders sank. She shook her head.

”...they must have escaped,” she whispered.

”I’m more worried if they didn’t,” Fyren rumbled, looking past the city, in teh direction we’d been hunting the other Risen. ”This was a major border city. The population couldn’t have just vanished. Either they’re seeking refuge further into the forest, or they’ve been turned. That would be a lot of Risen.”

”I’ve sent a few demons to find them,” Zephyriss said.

He nodded. ’Then we’ll know soon enough. We should get moving, Xiviyah. That blast will have drawn the attention of everything within a hundred miles, including the Risen. If there is something intelligent guiding them, like this ’lich’ you mentioned, we’d do best to find it before it finds us.”

”Right.”

I offered R’lissea a hand, bracing myself against Fable to help her up. Her grip was weak, but determined. She squeezed between me and Elise, leaning her forehead against my back.

”I can still sense a few in the forest,” she mumbled, eyes closed.

I glance at Fyren. ”Would you send some demons to hunt them down?”

”Already on it,” Zephyriss said. ”I’ll hunt them all myself.”

Nodding my thanks, I patted Fable’s neck. He took off, following Fyren through the burning forest. He took a parallel line to the chasm, keeping about a quarter mile from the crumbling edge. Occasional tremors shook the ground as the earth shifted, the land destabilized by the force of Incinderus’s spell.

The horde moved to follow us. I could sense Incinderus pacing on a bearing between us and the chasm, and in a few minutes, his path converged with ours. Some miles later, we finally left the devastated forest behind.

Less than twenty minutes after we cleared the last brush fire, R’lissea suddenly sat up.

”There’s Risen here,” she said, looking side to side. Her eyes widened in fear. ”Everywhere.”

Fyren raised his hand, and our horse came to a stop. Demons spread out everywhere, crushing through undergrowth and knocking aside trees, clearing the ground in a small circle around us.

I dismounted from Fable, summoning my staff in hand. Taking a deep breath, I embraced the Oracle of Eternity. The stars of fate materialized, showing every soul and current of mana. My breath caught in my throat. The black mist was thin here, yet every tree, shrub, and rock was choked in undead mana. Some kind of spell? An enchantment strong enough to cover an entire forest?

”I don’t like this,” R’lissea said, joining me off Fable, Elise on her heels. ”It’s quiet. I can barely sense any life force at all.”

A howl came from the side, where a fourth-level evolved blade demon was tearing into a tree trunk. It reeled back, shadows curling around its blade-like feet. They corroded in real time, disintegrating until they collapsed beneath their own weight. I reflectively cast a Nexus spell, tying its soul to mine. The distance was great, perhaps three hundred feet, yet its soul slipped as naturally as Fable’s into my spell.

The moment Adaptive Resistance cloaked it, the corrosion stopped. Two of the demon’s four legs were broken, but it staggered back, finding safety in a pack of second-level fire scions. A dark figure appeared in the woods beyond them, holding a jet black stick of obsidian. A faint residual mana trail traced from the top of the wand to where the demon had picked up the shadows.

”A Risen?” Elise gasped.

There was no denying it. The figure wore a tattered black robe, but its pale, rotting flesh was clearly visible between the rips and tears. One of its eyes was filled with maggots, the other glowing a malignant red. There was cunning in its eye, and I shivered as it swiveled to me, drawing the rest of its head after it like a marionette.

My stomach twisted as I got a better look at its face. It had a high jaw line and slanted eye sockets, with pointed ears. Its robe, a faded, torn mass of frayed fabric, was once a deep purple color, and covered in powerful sixth-level enchantments. Unlike every other Risen we’d faced, it had a soul. A partial soul, really, as much a shell of its former glory as its body was alive, but a soul all the same.

”Who are you?” Its voice was cold and scratchy, like a midnight breeze winding through a graveyard. ”Why come here?”

”Should I kill it?” Fyren asked, glancing at me.

I shuddered, gripping my staff tighter. ”Yeah.”

The Risen’s jaw clicked open again, sound beginning to come out, but Fyren had no intention of waiting. He kicked off the ground, blurring through the air like a low-flying meteor. His sword left his sheathe, drawing a blazing arc directly at the Risen’s head.

A dark sphere sprung up around the Risen, forming a hemispheric shield a few feet over its head. Fyren’s sword slammed into, releasing an explosion of white hot flames that consumed the forest for twenty feet around them. But when the fire faded, the shield held.

Fyren jumped back a few paces, eyeing the magic cautiously. He struck again, this time using a sixth-level technique, but the ward barely shivered. Throughout the attack, the Risen’s one good eye never wavered from me.

”Interlopers,” it hissed, ”Your corpses shall feed the host of the Grave Lord.”

”Just die already,” Fyren complained.

The Risen tried to speak again, but the Fire Demon unleashed a seventh-level technique, obliterating the shield and the Risen in one stroke. He turned, swishing his sword through the air to dislodge the Risen ashes clinging to the black blade.

”Did he get him?” Elise asked.

I shook my head. ”Not really, but that Risen is dead, at least.”

I shifted my gaze into the forest beyond, watching as thousands of shambling figures emerged from the trees. I took a hesitant step back, bumping into Fable. The real fight was just beginning.