“I must not be delayed any longer!” exclaimed Salkar furiously. He blasted three fireballs in rapid succession towards Erste, but Erste flung them in three different directions with his staff. At this, Salkar’s face started to change from one of anger to one that more resembled feelings of growing fear and confusion at the old man’s prowess in battle.
“I’ll have you know, I am no fallen knight” said Erste, eyeing his opponent’s expression. “I just wouldn’t work in tandem with a group of fools who cared more about bloodshed than justice. You cannot beat me so easily with your petty magic, you wizard traitor. You have poisoned Oxen Mollish’s mind and you have poisoned Ganwin for your master, the one who brings darkness in his wake! It is you who are responsible for the death of my nephew’s mother, Selenia Roan! You will not leave this town alive!”
Erste hurtled his staff at the evil priest, and a whoosh was heard as his weapon flew through the air and sent Salkar sprawling to the ground. He snatched at his foe’s rod as it flew up in the air and snapped it in two, tossing it to the dirt road.
“Get up, sorcerer.”
Salkar continued lying on the ground, shifting about as he attempted to gather himself. His purple robe had become full of dirt and he no longer looked so royal.
“What, have I rendered you entirely powerless?” taunted Erste. “Surely, you still have some fight in you, Salkar. Your brother seemed to have fight in him when he slew the innocent villagers in Stonebrooke four decades ago.”
Salkar scrambled to his feet, nervously. Off in the distance, Ing was scanning the area for the wicked priest, who had so thoughtlessly made the move that cast his beloved town in shadow. It was he who had crowned Oxen, setting in motion this horrible string of events. Suddenly, Ing spotted the overwhelmed priest clambering in fright before Erste.
This ends now, he thought to himself. It’s a choice. To act or to do nothing and let corruption reign.
He made a mad dash for the man, running full speed towards him. He gracefully lifted his sword from its sheath, and raised it high. A mere few feet from Salkar, he leapt into the air and cut off the royal priest’s head. The man’s body suddenly vanished and the robe he was wearing drifted lightly to the ground below.
Before Ing had time to wonder why Salkar’s body had disappeared, he heard an uproarious chatter.
“Hooray!” shouted the rebels. “Ganwin is saved!” Hearing the cries of freedom outside, all the townsfolk slowly started pouring from their homes and out into the streets to see what called for such excitement. As they did so, Ing looked about, scanning their faces, looking for the faces of his friends, Shamil and Arlene.
“I think that puts my journey to an end, my nephew,” said Erste, looking with eyes that looked troubled; he was staring down at the robe Salkar had once donned. “I shall see you some other time, but for now I have to go. You have done well.”
“Thank you, Uncle Erste,” said Ing. “You trained me well. It was an honor to fight by your side.” Ing let out a sigh. “It is a shame that you must be leaving. There will surely be many celebrations here in Ganwin.”
“I know Ing, I know. And I do not intend to spoil it. Nonetheless, I’m afraid I must go,” said Erste. “As I said when we first met, I wander here and there,” he said with his familiar smile that never revealed his teeth. “And don’t forget, someone must now be found to take the late king’s place.” With that he strode off into the distance leaving Ing to ponder this.
A new king? How could he have not thought of this? It seemed that whenever one problem was solved a new one came to take its place. Would he ever be able to rest again? Secretly, he wished that he could just be a normal boy again, but he feared it was not possible. Things had changed too much.
“I thank you, young sir,” said the man who Ing had encountered at the gate. “You should be the one to take Oxen’s place. I believe you will be a fine king indeed.”
Ing was trying to think it all over. Did the people really want him to become king of Ganwin? It sounded like a lot of responsibility; and he wasn’t so sure he would do a good job at it.
“I’ll have to think about it,” replied Ing. “After all, there has never been a king so young before in all the land.”
The man nodded his head in understanding. “For now let’s rejoice. Ganwin is free.”
Later that evening, a grand banquet was held inside the king’s palace. Arlene greeted Ing with a sad smile, but he took note that Shamil Tabberly was not at her side and he had yet to see him. Previously, Ing had tried inquiring about their whereabouts to different people, but didn’t get the answers he was looking for.
Now, at last, at least one of his friends had arrived. Arlene Gondweth took a hold of Ing's hands and they felt ever so cold. She looked paler than he remembered, but her blonde hair looked much the same as did her blue eyes. Although she seemed to have grown since last he saw her. She looked taller than before. What pain does she bear? He thought. Where is Shamil? The three of us should be together. I've fought so hard. “Arlene, you're safe,” he managed to say. “It is so good to see you again. I have seen you and Shamil in my dreams and thought of you all the time. Where is he?
