kept the blade out and pointed at the center soldier. When the bolt of lightning came shrieking out from Aurelia’s hands it was that same soldier who found himself lifted from the ground, his hands flailing, his sword and shield falling useless.
Another bolt killed a second soldier, the blue electricity entering his body through his right eye. He died instantly. Then the remaining three were upon the elves, and it was Felewen’s turn to kill. The first to swing at her found his sword cut from his body, his hand still clutching it as it flew through the air. He cowered back, pulling his bleeding arm behind his shield. Another leapt forward to defend him. A longsword punched through his throat before he even saw her swing.
Shock and panic took over, and then the wounded soldier turned to flee. The final human soldier smashed forward with his shield, preventing Felewen from chasing. The slender fighter flipped backward, clutching her sword with both hands. She landed softly behind the sorceress.
“Take him,” she said. A bolt of lightning hit his shield, numbing his arm and knocking him back. The shield slumped low, the muscles in his arm unable to keep it high. Still he charged, fully willing to die fighting.
“For Neldar,” he cried, thrusting at Aurelia’s chest. Felewen was there first. All it took was three cuts. The first took the man’s sword from his hand. The second took his arm from his body. The third took his life. A final bolt of lightning shot down the street, killing the wounded soldier that had fled.
Felewen wiped the blood from her blade and then sheathed it. She then used the same cloth to clean the blood from her face.
“Come,” she said. “We must go north where we are needed most.”
The two ran through the town, listening for sounds of battle. The worst seemed to be about the middle of Celed and steadily working its way south. They encountered a few soldiers as they made their way there. All died before they had the chance to swing their blades.
“At last!” Felewen cried, staring out from a side alley. They were behind a group of ten soldiers battling a pair of elven warriors who stood back to back. “Make haste, they need us!”
Felewen charged, desperate to arrive before her brethren were overwhelmed. Aurelia stepped out into the street and summoned her magic. Frost surrounded her hands, and a thin sheet of ice spread beneath the human soldiers. Many of them stumbled, unable to balance with sword and shield in their hands and heavy chainmail on their bodies. Felewen did not attempt to balance. Instead, she fell and slid on one leg, her sword out and ready. She slid right between two men, slicing out heels and tendons as she flew past. The elf reached the end of the ice, turned, and went sliding back.
The two she had cut were on the ground, unable to stand after such precise hits. As she reached them, she stabbed one of their legs to halt her momentum, yanked her sword free, and then rolled around to stab the other in the throat. Another roll back, and the first soldier met the same fate.
The elves they saved wasted no time. They both pressed forward, unafraid of fighting on the ice. Their light armor made balancing an easy task while their human counterparts were doing all they could to swing and stand at the same time. Two men fell to each of their blades, bringing the total down to four.
As Felewen lay upon the ice, a soldier stabbed down at her. She spun on her rear, her sword out in an arc. She took his feet off at the ankles. As he fell, Felewen snapped her legs high above her, spinning her body off the ground. She tucked her knees underneath her as she spun. She landed on her stomach, her sword skewering the guard’s innards. She pulled herself to her feet with the hilt of her sword, twisted the blade, and then finished him.
The remaining soldiers turned to flee, but there was one slight problem. An enormous ball of fire erupted at their feet, engulfing all three in flame. Two died from the horrible burns. A third slumped and whimpered in pain. Aurelia walked over to him and knelt on one knee. She placed a hand on his head and looked over his wounds while he glared up at her.
“Your wounds are beyond saving,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”
She ended his pain with a small lance of ice through his forehead.
“Thank you for your aid,” one of the elves said. “We must fall back to the forest. If they chase us there it will be suicide.”
“We will not have to fall back so far,” Felewen said. “They have scattered about our town. Their numbers mean nothing now. Besides,” she grinned, “we have Aurelia Thyne.”
Both bowed politely.
“Never could we have used a mage’s power more than now,” one said. Aurelia blushed and waved him off.
“Please we must…”
A cold chill spread through her body like water from an underground stream meeting a creek. She whirled and stared down the street. Walking without escort was a lone man shrouded in black robes. The cowl of his cloak hid much of his face.
“Come, brother,” one of the elves said. “It is the one who protected them from our arrows.”
The other nodded, took up his sword, and charged. His brother was not far behind. Felewen joined them, for she too had watched as the black shield had knocked aside their arrows and then shattered their bows.
Aurelia did not move. Her eyes were frozen on this strange man. Power rolled off him. He was strong, and even more so, he was terrifying. She had no doubt who this man was; he was the nameless necromancer, one of the few who could best Scoutmaster Dieredon in combat.
“Stop, you cannot defeat him,” she shouted. None listened. “Felewen, please!”
Felewen glanced back to her, and that small pause saved her life.
The man in black had made no threatening move as the other two charged. They were almost upon him when he cast aside his hood to reveal his ever-changing face, his deep red eyes, and his horrible smile. His hands lunged forward, the floodgates opened, and all his power came rushing forth. A wall of black magic rolled like a tidal wave conjured from his fingertips. The elven brothers tumbled through and vanished. Felewen leapt back when she saw the attack coming. She rolled behind a house and tucked her head.
The wave continued down the street, straight for Aurelia.
“I do not fear you,” she hissed through clenched teeth. A wall of water swirled about her, growing from unseen streams. She sent it forward, just as tall and high as Velixar’s. The two met in a thunderous roar, intermixing in a maelstrom of darkness, water, and air. Then they both dissolved, their magic spent.
Aurelia held back tears. Velixar’s magic had peeled the flesh from the elves’ bodies. Blood leaked through muscle and tendon, and their innards spilled from their abdomens. She hoped they died instantly, but she knew better. They had suffered tremendously.
“You monster,” she shouted. “What meaning does this battle hold to you?”
“Everything,” Velixar shouted, hurling a flaming ball of fire from each hand. “I desire panic and bloodshed all across the east!”
Aurelia summoned a magical shield about her body. The fireballs thudded three feet from her body and detonated. The two nearest buildings crumpled, their walls and roofs blown back by the power. The elf winced, nearly knocked to her knees by the force.
“What madness gives you such a desire?” she asked, attacking with the strongest spells she knew. Several lances of ice flew down the street followed by a ball of magma. The ball rolled behind the lances, covering the ground in flame. Velixar laughed.
A wave of his hand created a similar shield as Aurelia’s, but instead of keeping it close to his body, he shoved it forward. The lances shattered into shards when slammed against it. The ball of magma halted when touching the barrier and then reversed direction. The elf glared, detonating the attack with a thought. Molten rock covered the street, splattering across both Velixar’s and Aurelia’s shields before sliding to the dirt.
“How long can you keep this up?” the necromancer asked. He took out a bag of bones and scattered more than thirty pieces. “How long before you break?”
One by one, the bone pieces shot straight at Aurelia.
The elf dropped to one knee, words of magic streaming out her mouth as fast as she could speak them. Her magical shield could halt attacks of pure magical essence, such as the conjured fire, but animated objects were a different matter. The magic projecting them would die at her shield but the pieces would retain their momentum.
The dirt before her rumbled, cracked, and then ripped up in a great physical wall. On the other side, pieces of
