Nethermost Realm: Prisoner of Arlunn

Chapter 47

"Jensa!" shouted Arryk. Daze. Arryk had cast this before on him. Now, he felt his mind start to go fuzzy. He expected Arryk to pounce on him, now that his mind was in a fog. But Arryk staggered as well.

"Impossible!" shouted Arryk. "You can't have learned to counter that spell!"

"Our minds are linked!" yelled Rian. And perhaps that is what would save him. Slowly the fog passed and they both regained their senses at about the same time.
 Now, Arryk rushed him with his sword.

"Chanori rishet khan!" shouted Rian, summoning a phantom sword to defend himself with. Usually this took a lot of energy, but here in the paravescea, with energy all around them, it came much more easily.

Now Rian could parry Arryk's blows. "Stop fighting me!" shouted Rian. "Are you mad? We're in the paravescea!"

"I have this one chance," argued Arryk. "I have to take it!"

Rian considered using the blindness spell he'd learned on Arryk, but he was sure that anything he did would affect him as well as Arryk.

"Diya reppa!" shouted Arryk. Inflict weakness.

Immediately, Rian felt his strength go out of him. But to his satisfaction, Arryk lagged also. "How are you doing that?" demanded Arryk. "You can't be this good!"

"Stop fighting me!" said Rian. "I just want to talk."

"Ommian nek!" cried Arryk, waving his hand at Rian. This spell was new. Something lifted Rian in the air and hurled him at the wall. He crashed into it, losing all concentration. His own phantom sword vanished as Rian fell to the ground.

Now dazed Rian failed to move as Arryk rushed him, positioning the sword at Rian's throat. He had him. Rian stared up at the crazed prince, not daring to move.

"I have to kill you," said Arryk, almost apologizing. "It's what Shaz would do. I have to be like Shaz if I want to be the King of Cathal!"

"That's ridiculous. No you don't!" argued Rian. What would happen if Rian died? Would Arryk ever realize where he was? Would he ever find his way out?

"I'm sorry," said Arryk. "I have no choice." His eyes narrowed as he readied to make the kill.

Rian just stared up at him in horror.

Arryk gripped his blade more tightly, preparing for the blow.

"Please," said Rian, trying to reason with him. This didn't seem like something Arryk would do. "I'm begging you. Don't do this!"

To this, Arryk said nothing, lost in his own focus. But his hesitation drew out longer and longer. Finally, his sword arm drooped and the blade moved away from Rian's neck.

"I can't do it," breathed Arryk. "I'm too much of a coward."

Relieved, Rian sat up a little, against the wall, not daring to believe his luck. "I told you—I don't want to be the King of Cathal."

Angry, Arryk raised his sword again and aimed it straight at Rian's heart. "Don't you ever say that again in my hearing! You have a gift that I will never have: a magnificent magical legacy to be proud of! Your talent for the paravescea is something that comes only once in an Age. The last person to have such a talent for it was your own grandfather, the last King of Cathal. The rest of us—including myself—are just poor substitutes."

"You would make a good king," said Rian.

At this, Arryk shook his head. "It doesn't matter." He dropped the sword on the ground and turned his back on Rian. "It should be you."