The Baron of Ahlarkhem smiled. 'One more time would be an honor. Let us hope it is not the last.'
With that, the two men charged back into the fray, pushing their way past the Magistrates, Watchers, mages, and elite guards to cut into those who would threaten their home, their kingdom, and the nation they fought so hard to free from the rule of Tethyr.
The Matron had been successful in turning her assassins back to the task of killing King Korox, but it had been a poor tactical decision. Xeries's army of beasts did not take the time to distinguish between those fighting the king and those fighting with the king. The obsidian beasts mauled and ripped and macerated everything in their path.
The Matron's desire to take the throne had trapped her minions between two foes, and now they paid the price. The assassins had been compelled to turn their attention away from the invaders to attack the king and his troops. For their efforts, they were simply chewed to pieces from behind. The beasts came at them with their mouths agape, killing a man in one bite, a half-ore in two.
Praying to the goddess Waukeen as fast as she could, the Matron tried to aid her followers. Where one took a wound, another was healed. Where one was outnumbered, he suddenly found himself with the strength of four men. But no matter how fast she countered the beasts of Xeries, she was still not fast enough.
Realizing her error, the Matron called her men back. 'To me, my assassins!' she ordered. 'We let the beasts fight the king and his troops, then we move in for the kill.'
Casting one final spell, the Matron inscribed a magical circle on the ground-a protective ward that would make it more difficult for the black creatures to reach her and those near her.
'Give them a reason to eat the other soldiers first,' she said, smiling at the cunning of her plan. 'The path of least resistance leads directly to Korox and his men.'
Her assassins fell back to her and the protective circle.
Some were cut down in the process, but it was no matter. The Matron only needed enough to mop up whoever managed to survive the onslaught.
A few more than twenty of her minions made it back to her side. The black beasts lunged at them, their open mouths drooling in anticipation, but they were held back, blocked by the magic powers of the goddess Waukeen.
They jumped and clawed, growled and hissed at the invisible wall, but none of them managed to make it through. Though they were stupid creatures, they eventually tired of trying to get past the Matron's barrier. Then they turned their full attention toward the king and the rest of his men.
'This is it,' said the Matron. 'Our hour of victory is at hand.' She straightened her veil, eager to see King Korox Morkann fall and the throne of Erlkazar become-open for her to plunder.
+++++
On the edge of the battlefield, Quinn stopped to look for something. There was little left here, only dead grass and barren trees, the reminders of the king's disobedience.
The desolation made him smile.
Scanning farther along, past the edge of the square buildings and ruined shrubbery, he found what he wanted.
'That'll do nicely.' He walked to the tall statue of a rather regal-looking woman holding a book, seemingly engrossed in its pages.
The plinth that she stood upon was nearly the full height of a man-perfect for him to perch on and watch his black beasts punish the foolish king and his followers. Grabbing hold of the stone edge, he struggled to pull himself up.
With some effort, he managed to get to his feet to stand beside the woman and look out at the battle that raged in the courtyard. As soon as he did, the stone beneath him began to vibrate, almost like the soft undulations of the Obsidian
Ridge. The feeling was rather comforting, and it made the victory he was about to witness that much more pleasant.
A wind began to blow, ruffling the dry grass and the robes of the man on the plinth. Mores of white light and tiny glowing orange orbs floated up from him, swirling around each other, once, twice, then shooting out in all different directions.
Quinn's body began to transform. Muscular arms, straight back, and smooth skin withered and bent, becoming a hunched, pock-marked monstrosity. Buboes and pus-filled lumps appeared. His armor and cape morphed into oddly cut wizard's robes.
The magical visage of Quinn fell away, leaving behind only a twisted and decrepit overlord.
When the transformation was complete, the wind died.
'That's very strange,' said Xeries, his voice and appearance having returned to their true forms. 'I did not release that spell.'
He looked up at the carved stone woman standing beside him. She seemed to be looking right back at him, her eyes fixed on a single spot.
A strange chill ran down his spine.
Shaking it off, he let out a timid snicker. 'Don't be foolish Xeries,' he said to himself. 'It's only a statue.'
Turning back to the battle at hand, he let out another laugh, this one louder. The arch magus sounded like wind chimes as he reveled in his soon-to-be victory.
The twin red wyverns on his chest had all but disappeared under a thick coat of blood and gore. King Korox stood beside Lord Purdun. It seemed the two men were eternally fighting for the freedom of their kingdom. Perhaps that was their fare, to fight and die for what they believed in.
Pulling his blade from another downed opponent, the
Warrior King surveyed the battlefield. His men were pinned, and the Matron had found a way to turn the black beasts' attention away from her own assassins. The tide of this battle had shifted so many times that he was starting to lose count. He was tired, and so too were the men who fought at his behest.
That's when he spotted Quinn.
The man he had trusted with the life of his daughter had failed him, had betrayed him. Now, it seemed, his one-time bodyguard was going to climb atop the memorial statue of the queen and mock Korox in his final moments.
Spheres of orange and white light shot up into the air over the statue. Korox rubbed his eyes, not sure if what he just saw had actually happened. He looked again. Quinn was hunched over, his body twisted and bent.
That wasn't Quinn at all. It was Xeries.
Spinning around, Korox put his fingers to his lips and let out a short, shrill whistle. Then a second. The sound of a horse whinnying rose over the clashing melee, and the king's own black war steed, wounded as it was, appeared at the edge of the fighting. Its heavy hooves stomped down a pair of black beasts as it galloped obediently toward its master.
Grabbing the reins, Korox threw himself onto the saddle. The aches and pains, the weariness and fatigue all disappeared as his focus turned to just one thing.
'Heyaw!' he shouted, bounding away from the battle toward the statue of his lovely wife and the wretched beast who stood on it, befouling her glory.
Behind him the fate of Erlkazar was being determined. His men, his subjects-his friends-fought off the largest threat the kingdom had ever seen. But at that moment, none of that mattered, nothing else existed. Korox could see only ahead of him-could see only the man who had taken his daughter and tormented his realm.
His sword held high in the air, he urged his loyal steed onward. He was no longer a king. He was no longer a man.
He was a devil with malice in his heart and pure hatred in his veins.
If this was to be the last thing he would do as the King of Erlkazar, then he would gladly trade in his life to do it.
Closing the distance in a matter of moments, Korox could see the look of recognition on Xeries's face. He smiled as he watched that look turn from understanding to terror. The twisted arch magus raised his arms to cast a spell.
