Legends from The Warlock's Chair - Book One - Ravengaard

Chapter Thirty-six - Ravengaard's Fate/The Battle Ends

FROM HER VANTAGE POINT HIGH on the hillside, Danielle peered through the murk and followed the three columns of magic spiralling up into the darkness. They reached their zenith and started to spin outwards, twisting and turning. Energy sparked within the silvery clouds as they sped across the sky searching each other out. Only the Starheart needed activating to complete the circle. She glanced at Jessica and slowly shook her head.

George had still not returned.

'Sorry, we can't delay any longer. It will be too late.' she said sadly. A lone tear trickled down her cheek mingling with the rain.

Abruptly a blue orb materialized in front of her. She could see shadowy figures inside, sheltered momentarily from the driving rain. Then with an almost silent rush of air, the bubble popped.

She sighed with relief when she saw her brother standing there accompanied by Princess Meriol, Captain Thrax and Altard. They had succeeded in their rescue attempt, but not without loss she saw.

Danielle quickly held the Starheart out in front of her. It pulsed darkly between her fingers as if sensing the presence of the other gemstones. She extended her palm and started to recite the words of the spell.

In a panic, she realized she could not remember them, or at least recall them in the correct order. With everything that was happening, her mind was a blank. She tried harder, but nothing came.

Her mobile, she had recorded the words just in case she forgot.

She took it from her pocket, pressing the button to switch it on. It seemed like an age before in powered up, glowing faintly in the gloom. Her fingers, slick with rainwater fumbled with the touch screen, trying to unlock the recording mode. 

Danielle looked up to see George and the Elves running towards her. He was shouting something, but the howl of the wind whipped it away before it reached her.

To her horror, in the half-light behind the group, a flutter of darkness erupted. Shadowy shapes, like the wings of a gigantic black bird, flashed momentarily against the hillside, then like wisps of inky smoke, they silently dispersed.

Ravengaard stood there.

Danielle recognised the Warlock in an instant. She recalled the ghostly apparition seen briefly in the castle on the day Caranaxus had kidnapped her sister. Remembered the cold staring eyes above the hooked nose, the silver-streaked beard surrounding the thin cruel mouth. 

Now he was here in the flesh, those same cold eyes, burning with hate, fixed upon her.

She pointed, screaming a warning.

The Warlock was even quicker. In the blink of an eye, he surveyed the scene before him. Glancing skywards he saw that only three of the gemstones had been activated. Even in the heart of the swirling storm, he saw a faint lightening of the sky. A new day was dawning.

There was still time.

Ravengaard reached out with his magic, sensing the fourth piece. The girl possessed it, but she hesitated to employ it. He glanced at the boy, of course; she had been waiting for him to get clear. Foolish child, it would be their undoing. Without all four gems working in conjunction, they would not have enough power to prevent his sorcery from achieving its objective. 

He conjured two huge balls of the Warlock fire and directed them towards his enemies, one at the boy and the Elves, the other at the girl. If he could stop her activating it, there was still hope.

George heard Danielle's scream, saw her pointing towards something behind him. He turned, just in time to see Ravengaard release his magic. He shouted a warning to the others and flung up an ice barrier. At the same instant, Altard countered with a spell of his own. The combined magic collided, exploding outward in a shower of flame and steam. Most of the power deflected away but what remained still had enough energy to fling them to the ground. With the breath knocked out of him, George struggled to regain his footing. He glanced towards Ravengaard pleased to see the Warlock had also been flung backwards. A stream of curses coloured the air as he hastily climbed to his feet.