Shades of the Past_ Book Six of the Morcyth Saga - Brian S. Pratt [178]
From across the battlefield, Jiron blocks a soldier’s downward hack with the crossed blades of his knives and kicks him backward. Momentarily free of attackers, he glances around the battlefield and sees the light coming from where the bubble is growing. Suddenly, another soldier appears before him and thrusts with his sword.
Deflecting the blade to the right, he lashes out with his other knife and takes him in the side of the neck. As the man falls, his eyes are again drawn to the now blindingly white light. “Oh no,” he breathes as recognition comes.
“What?” asks Stig from where he’s parrying a series of attacks.
“We’re all dead,” he says with finality. Memories of the explosion that rocked the night when they escaped the City of Light play through his mind. Casting one more glance to the growing doom behind him, he turns back to the battle at hand.
The High Lord Magus, the most powerful mage in the Empire, is on his knees as magic continues to flow from him. Unable to stop it, he watches as the bubble before him grows ever larger. At one point, the light coming from it robs him of his sight as the brightness burns his retinas away.
As he falls to the ground he can feel his skin beginning to shrivel itself upon his bones as his life leaves him. Sadness grips him. Sadness of the loss of magical advances. Sadness over the loss of the many friends already dead behind him. But most of all, he’s sad for what the future may hold. The School of the Arcane helped control and direct those who practiced magic so the world wouldn’t have to endure atrocities. Now, without their influence, how many more Baerustin’s will there be?
His lungs quit working and finally, his heart grinds to a stop. Kerith-Ayxt, High Lord of all the Magi, dies.
The bubble, now brighter than the sun reaches critical mass. The magic within it too great for it to last much longer. When at last the bubble gives out…
Schtk!
…and time suddenly freezes just as the magic was about to explode outward.
Men stand frozen across the battlefield. Poised to attack, their swords remain stationary in the air. Arrows are halted in midair on their way to their targets. A surreal quiet settles over the battlefield as all sound is stilled.
Moving across the field of battle, a man winds his way through the men frozen in combat. On one side he sees a Raider with the point of a sword protruding from his back from the thrust of an enemy. On the other a head that was shorn from a nearby headless torso hovers two feet from the ground, waiting for time to start again before finishing its fall.
The man reaches where the Star of Morcyth lies upon the ground, still pulsating with light as if in defiance of the stoppage of time. Next he comes to Miko and pauses. Bending down, he runs his hand along the side of his face, caressing it as a father would his beloved child.
Standing up again, he continues along until coming to James. Glancing over to the bubble, frozen at the moment of detonation, the man shakes his head. “Why did you have to do that James?” he asks. “Couldn’t you see another way?” Gazing at the unconscious James, a tear wells from his eye.
Of all the probably outcomes of bringing James to this world, this was one of the ones they feared the most. The only one they had feared more was his death before he finished what he was brought here to do. Now, the world stands upon the brink. Time, once a friend has become the enemy.
Returning his gaze to the man in whom the hope of the world had been placed, he just shakes his head sadly. Raising his hands, he creates a protective barrier around James and the rest of the defenders, a shield against the blast. That much he is allowed to do, no more. What happens from this point on rests in James’ hands.
Once the shield is in place, the man straightens his blue vest and pushes