Dragonsbane (Dragonsbane Duology Book I)

Chapter 62: The Immortal King

The broadsword was shining like a golden gem under rain clouds.

When the King took up the blade he knew not of its power, nor the consequences of wielding it, he only knew someone had to act fast or Morrigan would die, and since he was closest, he figured it should be him. In truth he thought little in the moment, he merely acted.

Cara was slowly falling in agony as she held the spell, she wasn't using her hands, or an instrument of any kind, or at least she didn't seem to be. Whatever she was doing was causing her a headache powerful enough to drive her to her knees and cry in silence.

Larian picked up the broadsword from the rocky surface of the mountaintop and the blade ignited in flickering flames that initially made him turn away from their vivacity. Blood trickled from the many wounds in his abdomen and hung in the air as he moved ahead.

With the witch's claws inches from the young woman's heart, the King powerfully raised the flaming blade and brought it down on Fomoria's forearms. The witch's wails of pain slowly permeated his senses and she dropped Morrigan. Cara's spell failed her and she screamed in agony writhing, convulsing, and vomiting upon the mountain's floor where Morrigan had also fallen.

In the flash of a second Larian had to get the upper hand on Fomoria, with the last of his strength he cleaved the sword in her direction, not aiming for any location in particular on her body. It let out a hum when it found flesh and the flames died.

The witch stood there dumbfounded, and Larian weakly hunched forward leaning on the hilt with the point dug into the rocks. He looked up at her in time to see her eyes widen as a wound opened in her throat and blood spilled like water loosed from a dam, tinting her ebony armor crimson. She maintained her footing until the life left her, and her head slipped from her shoulders as she fell backwards.

The king let out a cough and was soon face first on the ground.

Morrigan worked her way up to her forearms, and after glancing at the headless corpse of the witch, gazed towards the capital.

The rainclouds cleared aside in sync with the golden rays of light retreating back into their unknown, and unknowable realm. Back home. There was a peaceful moment, quieter than anyone had ever known. It was as if the world fell into deep meditation, or let out a deep sigh of relief it had been keeping in for generations.

***

Morrigan rushed to Cara and helped her up gingerly as she was still wincing, and kept her eyes closed like the light was making her head hurt more. She had a splitting headache, but she would live. The King's fate did not seem as certain.

He'd used the sword, the sword that was supposed to grant long, even immortal life to the one who wielded it, and used it against the world's greatest enemies. But he was still dying, he was still losing blood fast, it was remarkable he'd held on as long as he did. It was remarkable he'd had the strength to stand at all, let alone against Fomoria.

Branwen turned, drawing her sword, feeling like she was being watched.

Nemedia was there, looking upon the scene, but she was already fading away, smiling with contentment, and in the mountain wind she slipped away like sand in the breeze as the hole in the sky fully closed.

***

Fomoria's twisted army suddenly dropped their weapons and looked upon each other like they didn't know who they were or what they had done. 

Even the Goblins, whose emotions, thoughts, and motives were always difficult to read seemed to know they had lost a great deal of time. There was fear and confusion that they shared in their first moments of liberation.

***

"Thank you."

Morrigan never knew Larian well, but there were still tears glistening in her eyes. He'd saved her. He'd saved them all, he could have given up but he fought to the very end. 

First traveling to the wasteland alone and coming back with the dragons. He'd given them a chance, and they made good on it. That was all they ever needed.

So many had made the moment possible, and few were there to see it. 

Larian gave her one last look, he recalled a memory that had been lost in one of his drunken stupors but returned to him in his dying thoughts of his past.

"Sorry for bumping into you that night... I deserved the slap."

Morrigan's tears fell, and she bowed to him for what she thought was a final time. The others followed suit, paying their respects to the man who had truly been the humans' greatest leader.

But it wasn't the end.

The King gasped.

Blood that was still leaking from his wounds suddenly flowed back into his body and ran in his veins again. The holes in his chest and stomach slowly closed, new skin seemed to form under his armor and it stretched and joined like pieces of a puzzle. The blade called to him, ringing, and it only stopped when Morrigan placed the hilt in his hand.

Larian opened his eyes, and once he realized what had happened, he looked to one of the four for answers, but none of them knew where to begin.