The fel wolf, whose wounds had healed now, made a wheezing noise which was even more like a laugh than the previous growl. “Do you really believe that you stand a chance against me, Arbiter? Do you really think that you can defeat me in your weakened state? I am going to tear open your throat and drink every last drop of sweet, manna-touched blood from your body, and then leave your corpse for the crows along with the rest of the sorry folk above!”
D’Arden lowered himself into a crouch, holding the sword threateningly between the two of them. He allowed a hint of the smile he had suppressed earlier to touch his lips. “Would you believe me, beast, if I told you that you had underestimated my power?”
The wolf’s jaws hung open and it made the wheezing laughter sound again. “I would say that you were simply trying to delay me to find an opportune moment to strike me and catch me off my guard.”
The element of surprise was his only chance. D’Arden willed up as much manna from his veins as he could possibly muster, but did not allow it to show anywhere outside his body. His eyes might have glowed slightly brighter, but the wolf would never notice in the light of his manna blade. “You have underestimated me,” he said, allowing the small smile to spread into a full grin.
“Die, Arbiter!” the wolf cried, leaping once more into the air.
Thrusting out his hand in the same motion as before, his palm turned outward and his fingers kept close together, he summoned up all of the energy that he could possibly muster into that single point and compressed it, held it so tightly that he felt as though for a moment he might simply explode into nothingness, and then suddenly relaxed his concentration and allowed it to flow forth.
Any normal man would have been blinded by the explosion of manna that emitted from D'Arden's outstretched hand. The light flared brighter than the sun itself for an instant, a single moment in time and then rocketed outward with the force of a lightning strike. It almost appeared to be liquid as it struck outward, catching the wolf full in the chest and crackling around it, the sound of thunder echoing in the deep stone chamber. The wolf let out a yelp that was nearly as loud as the thunder itself, its voice amplified by the corruption that dwelled within it, and the resulting cacophony ached deep in D'Arden's ears.
The wolf was slammed back against the wall as before, but this time, it seemed that D'Arden could feel the very foundation of the building shake with the force. Stone was chipped and knocked loose from the wall, falling to the floor in bits and powder. Dust was dislodged from the ceiling dozens of feet above them, and sand trickled down into the chamber.
The manna fire was licking at the wolf's fur now, and the russet glow that the fel beast sported had dimmed considerably. The blue flames were consuming bits of the wolf's fur and flesh near its feet and around its face. It let out a deep, rumbling growl, but even its summoning of power could do little against the force that D'Arden had unleashed upon it.
'No,' the wolf snarled. 'No! How? How did you…'
D'Arden took a step forward, the light shining from his manna blade still as bright as a moment before as he reabsorbed some of the energy that had splashed off of the wolf and returned to the earth. He approached the wolf with confidence, knowing that his enemy had been weakened by the surprise assault.
'As I said, beast… you underestimate me,' D'Arden said grimly. 'You believed that because you have power here that you were the stronger of us, so instead of fighting cautiously, you fought with too much confidence. For that is your undoing, beast… your instincts have not yet gone enough to think that you might, for once, be at a disadvantage when fighting a mere man.'
With those words, D'Arden lunged forward and thrust the blade deep between the fel wolf's ribs. The beast let out a howl and tried to snap its jaws at the Arbiter's arms, but D'Arden brought up one of his thick-soled boots across its snout sharply, and snapped its head back to the side. Once the manna fire had penetrated its thick outer skin, the wolf simply could resist the purification no longer. It gave a long, mournful death howl that echoed around him as the pure manna drove deep within its twisted heart and began to unmake the wolf from the inside out, driving out the corruption that gave it the dangerous and evil intelligence and returning its flesh to the power of the land.
Finally, the fel wolf's muscles relaxed and it fell lifelessly to the stone floor. It was then that the manna flames began in earnest, lapping at the corrupted flesh and fur and bone, blazing brightly and eagerly and turning into a veritable azure bonfire. D'Arden took a few steps back, allowing the manna flames to run their course and ensuring that he did not himself get caught up in the blaze. What power was thrown off in the consumption he drew back into himself to replenish his own reserves.
Finally, when the azure flames had died and the wolf was no more, D'Arden turned himself back to the stone staircase. There was nothing left here now in this ancient stone cellar beneath the city.
He found himself exhausted, his body and mind drained from the incredible assault that he had just undergone. Each stair that he climbed was burning agony in his limbs, and he felt several times heavier than he was. As he reached each landing he would stop for several seconds and take deep breaths, careful not to draw in too much breath that would overwhelm him but also finding himself gasping for the sweet cool air. He could sense that he was nearing the top of the staircase as the smell of rot began to grow in his nostrils once more.
Finally he reached the top of the stairs, back into the rotten and mildewed wooden building at the ground level. The only thing that drove him forward, knowing that he would have to pass once more through the disturbing chamber piled with the bodies of the dead, was the thought that he could once again return to the font here and purify it of its evil, and absorb the power into himself so that not only could he recharge, but he could set himself up here, rather than in the horribly corrupted trade center where he roomed currently, and begin planning a strategy that would help him in saving this city from the depths that it had plunged to.
It was his purpose, he reminded himself, even though as he passed through the ranks of the staring-eyed dead that he briefly considered joining them himself in death from exhaustion. This was the greatest undertaking of his existence, to determine why this place had gotten so far, and what was driving the corruption to reach further and further outward as though it intended to devour the entire world.
Finally, he stumbled back out through the wooden door that led to the street and slammed it behind him, rattling the panes in the shattered out windows of the building that he stood beneath. The sun seemed impossibly bright after the session he had spent deep beneath the earth. He squinted his eyes and still they were overwhelmed by the brightness, and he was forced to squeeze them closed as he drew in breath after breath of fresh air at last, though the cold burned his lips, his tongue and his chest as he gasped as though he were a fish pulled from its pond.
After some time, he found that he was able to open his eyes again without immediately being forced to close them again. The sun still seemed too bright, and the colors of the world seemed strange and distant to him, but he knew that those would return in time. Once he could see his feet and the cobblestones before him again, he began to make his way back through the streets of the low quarter, trying to recall his path from before without becoming too lost.
Despite his best efforts, he sound found that he was hopelessly lost in the mazelike streets of the city. He recognized no landmarks, and he had been too intent on his path previously to leave a trail of crumbs or markings for himself. He could not find a single person on the streets – they had apparently all come together in a single area to huddle together in these miserable times, for which he could not blame them, but it did make it difficult to ask for directions.
Simply collapsing would have, quite literally, gotten him nowhere, so rather than give up and sit on an abandoned step he continued to wander, half in a blinded haze, through the streets, simply hoping that he might come upon the font chapel or a single building that he recognized.
At last, his salvation came on the wind.
'Master Arbiter!' called out a familiar voice. The boy. Mikel.
'Here!' D'Arden croaked, and it seemed to him that his voice belonged to someone else entirely. 'I'm here!'
Footsteps approaching. Sensing that there was finally another human being nearby, D'Arden collapsed onto one knee. That strike to take down the fel wolf had drained him more than he realized, and he felt his head spinning about him. The darkness was once again closing in on him, but this was not the oppressive darkness that had surrounded him in the cellar, but instead a comforting, warm blackness that offered him solace in its embrace.
'Master Arbiter!' the boy's voice said again. He was nearby now, rushing to D'Arden's side. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and fought to stay conscious. Another hand supported him, kept him from simply falling into
