Obsidian Ridge - Jess Lebow [114]
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.
A beam of orange energy shot from Xeries's hands, howling as it soared toward Korox. Then, just as suddenly as it had been conjured, the beam dissipated, splashing harmlessly against the chest of the king's black steed.
"But-but that-that was-was the-the finger-finger of-of death-"
His echoed words were cut short as the Warrior King leaped from his saddle. Korox hurled himself forward, both hands on the hilt of his enchanted blade. Like a bird of prey he descended upon Xeries, screeching as he dropped from the heavens to take vengeance on the master of the Obsidian Ridge.
His feet hit first, knocking the arch magus to his back and crushing bones as the withered man absorbed the force of Korox's impact. Then the king's blade came down, slicing through flesh, pus, and the withered black heart at the center of this ruined wizard.
Korox dropped to one knee, placing all of his weight down on top of the frail arch magus, holding Xeries to the stone plinth.
"But-but my-my spell-spell…" gurgled Xeries.
Korox's lip curled up as his hatred bubbled over like a pot left too long on a fire.
"I see you've met my wife," he said, shrugging his chin up at the statue. "She looks after me, even in death."
The Warrior King twisted his blade, and Xeries convulsed in pain, hissing through blackened teeth. Xeries tried to focus his eyes on the king through all of his pain, but it was clear he was having a hard time. He reached up, opening his mouth to say something, perhaps cast a spell. But it was no use. His whole body trembling around Korox's blade,