Pandora made her way back into the Gallery of Opulence. She rushed toward the only other open door hoping that it was the one Ban’Koliath had taken and passed into the hallway beyond. As if on cue, there was a massive crash as an armor-clad figure came hurtling down the hall. The body ricocheted off the walls and came to a rolling stop. Pandora’s eyes went wide as she realized who it was.

“Commander Reige!” She called out as she snatched up the hem of her robe and ran to the fallen man. She skidded to a halt kneeling beside him and assessed his condition. He was unconscious. Blood was dripping down from a wound on his head, not fatal. One of his arms was broken, not fatal. More broken bones were under the dents in his armor and it was impossible to tell the full extent of the damage. She didn’t have time to heal every wound so she settled for getting him stable with a mending spell.

“Sanitinjum,” she whispered, and her hands flared green as she felt the familiar magical power flow through her. She pushed the warm healing energy into Reige.

The wound on his head stopped bleeding and the edges of the cut flared green as they knit the wound together. There was a sharp snap followed by a groan from the Commander as his arm straightened. She sent what energy she felt she could spare to knit the remaining broken bones. It will have to do, our battle has only just begun. Pandora thought as the glow on her hands faded. She still had to find Ban’Koliath. Roland was counting on her. She left Reige; there was no chance she could carry him and continued her dash down the hallway.

The sounds of fighting reached her as she headed further along. As she entered the training room a spear of wood came hurtling toward her. She dove to the side avoiding impalement. The improvised weapon vibrated over her head as Pandora looked to the source. There, across the room, were Ban’Koliath and Mal. Both were engaged in mortal combat against a giant of a man. That must be Dakon, Pandora thought, recalling the description of Vale’s murderer.

Dakon and Ban’Koliath moved in blurs attacking one another and then breaking off each hunting for a weakness. The hammer, Void, was singing and whirling in Ban’Koliath’s powerful grip as he brought it to bear against Dakon and his infernal sword. Each time their weapons connected Dakon’s blade developed a spider web of red cracks while Void glowed white along its broad hammerhead.

Mal was fading in and out of the shadows behind Dakon. The wolf was wise enough to stay out of the ample reach of Dakon’s blade and calculating enough to force Dakon to divert attention between the pair. It didn’t matter if he landed a bite or a scratch. Drawing a slash now and again gave Ban’Koliath openings to strike at Dakon while he was off balance. For all of Dakon’s impressive speed and skill, he was barely able to defend against the duo.

The next slash at Mal sent Dakon’s sword arm wide and Ban’Koliath slammed the butt of his hammer into Dakon’s gut. The sharpened point dug deep into the armor plating and thick chords of muscle stood out on Ban’Koliath’s arms as he hefted Dakon’s entire body into the air. With a guttural shout, he tossed Dakon across the gym. At that moment Ban’Koliath understood Void was helping him, empowering him with the supernatural strength he’d need to defeat his opponent.

Across the room Dakon sprang to his feet. He dusted himself off as though nothing had happened but his eyes had locked onto the hammer and flashed a predatory red.

“Where did you get that?” Dakon asked, the anger, and possibly a hint of fear, was palpable in his voice.

Ban’Koliath didn’t know what it was about Void that could strike fear into this unkillable behemoth but he silently swore that he wouldn’t waste this chance to bring the man down. He made no reply only smirking in acknowledgment of Dakon’s question.

“Raaah, stupid bovine!” Dakon roared, attempting to incite the rage of the minotaur with the grave insult.

Ban’Koliath let the words roll off him. He, like many of Tuin’s pupils, had learned to master the rage of his race. It was not something that he would ever truly be free of but it would never control him again. He also took solace in the fact that Dakon was afraid; for only the terrified, or foolish, attempted to invoke the rage of the minotaur.

Not receiving the reaction he’d wanted Dakon kicked off from the ground. The force of his takeoff splintered the wooden floor.

Void met Dakon’s sword blow for blow each time intensifying its golden glow. And Dakon’s sword responded in kind the lines of lava red glowing brighter. Showers of red and gold sparks rained down around the pair as the weapons fought for magical dominance.

Dakon attempted to press forward refusing to let up in his assault. He swung wildly, unpredictably, and it took all Ban’Koliath’s skill to hold the incensed warrior at bay. Gripping his sword in both hands now, he put all his weight behind him aiming to cleave the maddening minotaur in two.

Then Mal struck, coming out from the shadows in a flash, his fangs latched onto Dakon’s wrist like a vice and he shook hard. It sent the huge warrior’s swing off balance making the sword bite deeply into the floor instead of Ban’Koliath. Mal released at the last second and dodged a powerful kick further unbalancing Dakon.

Dakon let go of his sword which was now half-buried in the floor. A cold fury radiated out from him as he drew himself up to his full height. His eyes moving from Ban’Koliath to Mal and back again.

“Hiritau, kill that mutt,” Dakon said. His placid, precise tone returned.

The floor bowed and cracked as the blade, Hiritau, rose up into the air of its own accord. It spun around and flew directly at Mal. The lupine disappeared into a nearby shadow to avoid the weapon. But, much to Ban’Koliath’s surprise, the sword followed. Both disappeared into the realm of shadow to carry out their invisible battle.

Ban’Koliath found himself on the defensive as Dakon rushed at him unarmed. Dakon reminding Ban’Koliath that he did not require a weapon to be deadly. It took every trick that Ban’Koliath knew to keep the warrior’s bone-cracking fists’ from connecting.

All around him Ban’Koliath caught glimpses of Mal blinking in and out of the shadows, always closely pursued by the onyx blade. A heavy fist impacting with his shoulder reminded him that he could not afford distractions. He left Mal to deal with the blade trusting the wolf to handle himself.

The stout minotaur focused on Void gathering the power residing within, or rather, the hammer began to feed power to him. He couldn’t be sure but what he did know was that Dakon was slowing down. Ban’Koliath dodged the next blow with ease. And for the first time since the fight began, Ban’Koliath felt he could win. Dakon’s next blow went wild and the minotaur saw his chance. He hefted Void overhead and it flared with a golden light. Then he brought the hammer down.

The blow landed on Dakon’s neck twisting it into an angle it had no right to be in and eliciting a grunt of pain. The red eyes that had been so bright with rage flashed and sputtered and faded to a dim echo. The floor gave out and Dakon sank below leaving behind a gaping hole. Ban’Koliath hopped back from the collapse. The sound of Dakon’s body hitting the ground below caused him to snort in satisfaction.

Pandora let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She could hardly believe that the fight was over, or that Ban’Koliath had won. But where is Mal? Her eyes darted about the room looking for him in case he needed healing. She went to take a step out onto the floor and Ban’Koliath held up a hand shaking his head. Pandora stopped as the minotaur turned in a slow pivot. His mind replayed the fight as he turned. He was missing something.

Off to his right, the floor bubbled up.

“Ban look out!” Pandora shouted in warning.

Ban’Koliath dove to the side. His lack of hesitation and an immediate reaction to Pandora’s cry were all that saved him. He tucked into a roll as Dakon burst out from the floor. A searing pain spread along the back of his leg below his tarsal joint. Dakon had missed tearing off the minotaur’s leg by a breath but the giant’s fingers were dripping with blood. Ban’Koliath’s gouged leg was the least of his problems.

Dakon was inexplicably fine; he was more than fine; he was unleashed. His neck was still bent in a terribly wrong angle but his eyes reflected a madness and a joy that had been absent. Gone was the dispassionate murderous automaton and in its place was the true Dakon.

“Hiritau!” Dakon commanded his arm snapped out to the side with his hand open. The sword returned from the shadows dripping a single droplet of blood from its tip. As Dakon closed his fingers around the grip, his other hand casually snapped his neck back into place. The bones in his spine made unnatural crunching sounds as he rolled his neck.

“At last, it has been so long,” Dakon said opening his eyes as a relaxed grin spread across his face. His entire body began to glow a deep red.

Ban’Koliath was not going to wait around to see what Dakon was so happy about. He charged in and swung hard. There was a bright flash of red and Ban’Koliath found himself soaring backward across the room.

Dakon was changing. His eyes intensified with a seething fury. His sword cracked and shattered into a thousand pieces. The slivers of onyx hung in the air before Dakon’s body sucked them in absorbing the shards. His breath came out in hot steaming waves as the dormant fire within his chest rekindled. His body popped and snapped as his muscles grew, fusing and melding into his armor until there was no demarcation between the two. Dakon flexed his arms as if trying out a new coat. Could this monstrous amalgamation of man and armor and sword could even be called Dakon anymore?

Pandora and Ban’Koliath stood dumbfounded until a final hiss of steam was released. The minotaur’s eyes told him exactly what he was looking at but he couldn’t believe it; it was impossible. Before him stood one of the Nyeberian Empire’s most dangerous creations; a Command Golem. Warriors of immense power and skill they willingly gave over their souls to fight eternally as the Generals of the Enslaved Army.

By the end of the Cataclysmic War, which was over four thousand years ago, the Command Golems had all been laid to waste. They were far too dangerous to be left active. The Order of Brass had seen to the destruction of every last one, no matter the cost, or so Ban’Koliath had believed.

In his hands Void trembled but not with fear. Ban’Koliath could feel anger and sorrow pouring out from the weapon, the outright anguish at the abomination before it. He tightened his grip and stalked towards Dakon.

“Ancient thing, your evil soul has survived for far too long. This day will be your last.” Ban’Koliath said leveling Void at Dakon’s chest.

“We’ll see,” Dakon smirked. Faster than even Ban’Koliath’s enhanced senses could follow, Dakon rushed forward and the true battle began.

This was a very different fight. Ban’Koliath no longer attempted to subdue or question and he entirely abandoned conserving energy for any fights to come. The minotaur was fighting for the very ideals of the Order. The ideals that he stood for. The hammer in his hands became a glowing golden blur and Dakon’s fists became red streaks of fury.

Fear and awe kept Pandora rooted to the spot at the door. She couldn’t tell who was winning, losing, or even landing a blow. She felt pressure waves as the two collided so powerful they sent her dress billowing and hair flying. Fissures and cracks formed along the walls and ceiling. This level of raw power was not meant for the indoors. Heavy stone chunks rained down as the ceiling began to give. Pandora was knocked backward moments before the ceiling above her collapsed. A substantial mass of fur loomed over her, Mal.

Pandora frantically examined the lupine over for injuries finding nothing more than a superficial scratch along his shoulder. Mal gave her a low growl of assurance and turned to face the gym. He began pacing back and forth in the doorway watching the two combatants intently. Pandora got to her feet and knelt beside him. She was no fighter but she could certainly aid those who were. Spells began flying from her lips and soon her hands were glowing as she imbued Mal with every enhancing spell she could think of.

“Vitallus! Protongun! Creditium! Muscil toltium!”

Mal’s silver-red eyes tracked the man-beast who had become his friend and the giant who had taken his Amithor. His fur glowed, blue then pink, then orange as Pandora pumped him full of magical enhancements. He saw several opportunities to strike the giant but he waited. Even in his fury, he knew he could not be reckless. He had to avenge her.

When Pandora finished, a wave of lightheadedness washed over her. She gave him a pat on the flank, “Go get him, Mal.”

The shadow wolf shot forward like an arrow launched from a bow. His bulk collided with Dakon and took the golem’s legs out from under him allowing Ban’Koliath to score a blow. Void left a white-hot impression on Dakon’s blackened chest. Mal spun back around and began snapping, pulling, and tripping Dakon, as much as he could to throw him off balance, all while avoiding the golem’s counters. With the pair working in tandem Dakon was soon hard-pressed to keep on his feet. Ban’Koliath and Mal were pushing him back, and with every blow, Void absorbed a bit more glowed a little brighter.

Dakon could hardly believe that he was being put on the defensive. He refused to even consider the fact that he might be losing for the first time in his millennia of existence. He could feel his power slipping away. His speed was faltering; his fists lacked their usual cogency; and the pair now seemed to be one step ahead of him. He didn’t understand how this was happening. He knew it wasn’t fatigue. Because this body of his didn’t tire; it didn’t age. It was perfection. That had been part of his deal with the Nyeberian Necromancers when he had negotiated for his soul all those centuries ago. Limitless strength in exchange for flawless command and he had never failed them. He still blamed himself for not participating in the final battle certain that the Cataclysmic War would have ended very differently if he had.

He brought his fist up again and connected with Void deflecting the hammer as he had a hundred times. Dakon let out a roar of true pain when his hand crumpled. For the first time since he’d entered the service of the Nyeberians, he felt pain. He felt fear.

Ban’Koliath could see, as much as Mal could smell it, Dakon’s fear. Ban’Koliath doubled his attacks. The anger of Void coupled with his own poured into every blow.

Wham!

Dakon’s other fist was crippled as he brought it up to block. At the same time Mal ran in and ripped Dakon’s leg out from under him sending him crashing to one knee.

Ban’Koliath found himself at the same height as the huge warrior. Dakon’s arms slumped at his sides and his red eyes glared with hatred at Ban’Koliath. The minotaur reared back with his hammer and swung with all his might. Void connected with Dakon’s head in a blinding white blast. All along the warhammer gilded runes flared to light and seeped out into the air. The tendrils of light latched onto Dakon’s body and spread like a virus.

Dakon’s skin cracked and crumbled away exposing the magical heated core that had fueled his body. Already the furnace was changing. The golden light of Void enveloped the red glow until it was snuffed out. The light grew and swelled in intensity until the others were forced to look away.

An intense wave of pressure shot outward from Dakon. Only Ban’Koliath’s grip on Void kept him anchored. Mal slid across the floor several feet and even in the doorway, Pandora was shoved against the wall. Then all was still and silent; the light from Void winked out. Ban’Koliath gazed at the remnant of Dakon. The infernal furnace that powered the golem was still. All of the now exposed gears and fluids had gone cold and the once molten core fell inert letting out a hollow clang in Dakon’s chest.

“For Valethalassa,” Ban’Koliath said as he pulled Void free and rested it on his shoulder.