LII. Even the Gods Must Die

“I want fer ye tae struggle.” Eth growled, his rage pouring from him as steady waves of heat.

“At the hands of some pyro elf?” Osric laughs and points at Aichlan in disgust. “Or the walking dead over there? You’ll fare no better than that girl, or any of the millions that fell before.”

Eth rockets through the air on a controlled explosion. He lands with hard, a wall of fire erupting in a sphere around him. Osric raised his hands, erecting a barrier as the inferno washed over him. As his defenses strained under the intensifying flames, Osric grit his teeth and prepared to warp away. As if anticipating the jump, Eth’s hand shot through the fire, breaking through the barrier to clutch Osric by the throat. Osric gagged as his flesh began to sear and bubble, his eyes bulging from his head as Eth crushed his throat like a paper cup. Osric went up like kindling, and Eth slammed his foe into the ground repeatedly, shattering the tile floor. Eth proceeded to violently throttle Osric, strangling and shaking the life out of him with both hands, a devilish grin on his face. Despite being shaken like the infant of an abusive parent, in addition to being on fire, placed both hands on Eth’s torso; then proceeded to blast him off with a bolt of black lightning.

Eth used a burst of flame to flip in midair and land on his feet. Osric struggled to his feet, gasping for air through his crushed trachea. As his wound starts to heal, Osric draws a triangle in the air, he places his palm in the center and black lightning shoots out of the tips and converges into a single beam of multicolored light.

Eth roared and raised a heat vane to shield himself, only for the beam to break through and hit him squarely in the chest. Eth dug in his heels and tanked the blow, taking one flaming step after the other, melting the tile for better footing as he advanced. Aichlan hurls his targe like a discus, striking Osric in the temple and breaking his spell, charging in from the left with his sword raised. Eth leaped forward, riding a flume of fire.

Osric quickly summons his staff and deflects a strike as Eth moves in face to face. He shrugs off a blow to the head from the butt of the staff, and grips Osric’s head in his hand, melting the flesh. Osric drops his staff and stumbles back, his skull exposed, melted flesh dripping as smoke rose from his face.

Eth recklessly after him and cleaves Osric in two with a flaming sword, only for the sorcerer to warp away in a plume of black smoke. The smoke cleared revealing a violet orb, which promptly began shooting off needles of black magic in every direction. Eth raised his sword in a feeble defense, but was overtaken by the barrage, and sent crashing through a pillar.

Eth slowly stands as his wounds start to heal, he looks to his right and sees the egg.

“That shouldn’t be possible.” Osric muttered.

Eth swung, just barely missing the sorcerer that had snuck up behind him. Osric summoned his staff again, and the two recklessly duked it out. Each landed solid hits and exchanged savage blows, the emphasis not on defending, but making sure the other took the most damage. They continue this way for what felt like hours; any wounds they take are quickly healed by the egg's power. Aichlan took the time to gather Clarissa and heal the remainder of their team.

Donough was unconscious, but there was no evidence of the scalding he had just suffered, ostensibly healed by the power of the egg as well. Paradoxically, his own wounds were still open and quite painful, despite the egg having healed him in the past. Clarissa, upon finding Donough merely dazed, scurried over to the corpse of Rowena. Aichlan swore and took after her, as Eth and Osric continued to brawl like drunken immortals. The power of the egg seemed to only affect the Colby-Nau and Osric, for whatever reason, likely magic.

“Clarissa!” Aichlan hissed as he snatched the cleric back to her feet. “She’s dead! There’s nothing even you can do about it, we must see to Maleah.”

Osric hurled a volley of ice shard at Eth, who raised a wall of flames in defense, creating a thick steam. They continue to fight blindly in the steam, Osric sending out an array of magic attacks as Eth swung madly at every movement. With a frustrated curse, Eth spun his sword overhead, like the burning blades of a windmill in a gale. This act superheated the steam, filling the room with volatile plasma energy, which promptly exploded, consuming them both. When it all cleared, both combatants stood unharmed.

“Can you not see how pointless it is?” Osric panted as he drew several symbols in the air. “As long as I have your precious treasure, I can’t be killed!!”

“And neither can I.” Eth growled.

Osric summoned a horde of demons from the shadows. “Oh, but I have a feeling you can if you get hit enough times.”

“Then my only course of action is clear.” Eth took a deep breath and planted his sword in the tile. “Io, I will join you soon.”

“What does he mean by dzat?” Clarissa pleaded to Aichlan as he held her in place. “Eth, what do you mean by dzat?!”

“All o’ ye! Get the ‘ell ootta ‘ere.”

Aichlan stood rooted in place, both filled with both dread and confusion at his friend’s odd demand, and uncharacteristic calm. Clarissa bawled as she struggled against his grip, turning to slap and punch at Aichlan, but still he held tight.

“Now damn it!” Sparks shot from his mouth as flames erupted around his feet.

Maleah ran past in a blur of purple and white, the rattling of the charms on her lance snapping Aichlan from his reverie.

“Respect his wishes lad.” Donough said as he hobbled past.

With some difficulty, Aichlan slung Clarissa over his shoulder and they limped their way out of the temple, breaking into a run as they neared the exit. Aichlan glanced back at Eth one last time before he left.

* * *

“There goes your support.” Osric teased with a smug grin. “That wasn’t a very prudent move on your part; if I may say so.”

“Ye can say whatever ye bloody well please, daen’t change the fact yer gonna die.”

Eth bent down and picked up a chunk of rubble, hefting it several times before whipping it at the egg to Osric’s horror. His shock quickly gives way to riotous laughter as the stone bounces off and harmlessly falls to the ground.

“Ha! You fool! What was the point of that little display?”

The sliver of a crack formed and slowly spider webbed along the shell of the egg, emitting a brilliant white light. Osric hastily erected a barrier as the egg exploded with the fury of Rhode, blowing out the wall and roof of the temple. The rubble rained down, snapping through the foliage, breaking off branches and sending buildings tumbling down onto the horde of undead and Dusk borne below. When the downpour of stone subsided, Osric dropped his barrier, his face white with fear, rage, and disbelief. The egg was destroyed, and with it his immortality and aspirations.

Eth cracked his neck and knuckles in preparation. “I figured as much…”

“What have you done?” Osric stammered as he tore at his miraculously still silken hair. “You’ve not only doomed me, but all of us! You fool! What have you done?!”

“I am through talking. We’ll finish this in hell.”

“Don’t wait up.” Osric drew several runes in rapid succession. “Though I walk in shadow, let darkness not hinder mine eyes, but bring judgment from these dying skies…”

Osric drew a circle of violet light; the runes arranged themselves as black flames around the circle as a line of black violet light crisscrossed the circle, connecting the runes. Eth picked up his sword and charged, bounding across the temple ruins with flaming feet.

“And end all epochs to follow.” Osric continued, hurrying his recitation. “From Hinterlands I rise, the fallen, the despised.”

Eth’s body erupted into flames as his muscles bulged. Osric rapidly drew the next phase of the incantation as a flaming ball formed in his fist. The flames glowed white and rapidly grew in size, with heat the tile melting beneath him causing him to sink with each step. Around them the temple burned and collapsed. The spell was nearly complete, but the strain was too much for his body, the voice cackled in his ear, demanding greater sacrifice than what he had to offer. Eth grins as his features are blurred by the blinding white heat and light his hand erupted into a fiery cataclysm.

* * *

Aichlan hobbled towards the edge of the winding road and looked down, the great limbs were splintered and cracked as the flames devoured them. Osric’s army of dusk still fought strong, piled up around the base of the tree, throwing themselves at the gate. As far as he could tell, in the dim twilight, the field was devoid of friendly forces; either they had been killed or fled inside. Startled, he jumped, and nearly threw himself to his death as a second explosion from the temple rocked the tree.

Clarissa stopped mid healing, glancing back up the staircase with bated breath. The four of them stared in awe as the fireball billowed up to the upper limbs of the tree, setting more leaves and branches of the ancient tree alight, the embers cascading down upon them like a perverse inversion of rain. Without a word, Clarissa leapt to her feet and bounded up the staircase two and three steps at a time, followed closely by Maleah, Donough and a reluctant Aichlan.

What remained of the temple was a crumbling foundation and a spattering of columns that looked ready to fall over at any moment. It took Clarissa only moments to find Eth’s body, unmoving and half buried under rubble. Scorch marks marred his hands, chest, and face, as if his own fire within had attempted to consume him. Donough lifted the slab of stone from his body as Maleah used her lance as a lever.

Clarissa lit up like the winter star as she embraced the light of Dawn, suffusing every pore with the healing energies. She dropped to her knees and cradled his head in her lap, briefly looking up at them, her face marred by sorrow as tears poured from her eyes and floated around her as droplets and small ribbons of water. She sniffled, a childlike and pathetic sound, as she pumped the healing light throughout Eth’s body. Tears continued to spill from her eyes as she rocked gently, glowing with an ephemeral pale blue light.

“Clarissa…” Aichlan gently grabbed her shoulder and attempted to pull her away. “He’s dead.”

A subtle grin of creeping madness crossed her lips as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “My dear Aichlan, you cannot speak such things. You too were a man of faith, and through faith all things are possible, non?”

“Clarissa, I know it’s a difficult time for you now, but we need your skills…” Aichlan trailed off, the woman was deaf to the world.

Clarissa pulled Eth into her breast and buried her face in his hair. “I will lose no one.”

“Pardon?” Aichlan stepped closer hesitantly, feeling slightly uncomfortable with her sudden change in tone and mood. “Clarissa?”

The pale blue glow that enveloped her rapidly grew in brilliance; the perspiration on her skin began to sparkle like twinkling stars. Her hair flowed like a nymph underwater, her eyes were closed, her face held a look of tragic serenity upon her tear streaked face. Inexplicably, rain began to fall, a slow patter at first that quickly became a deluge. Slowly, she rose as if weightless, hovering above the ground as the rain fell harder all around her. The fires all extinguished around them, blanketing the ruins in steam and mist. Clarissa opened her eyes, wide and glowing brilliantly, as a powerful shockwave of blue light and energy wafted from her, lifting all pain and filling those in her vicinity with a calming warmth. Aichlan felt his knees give out from beneath him, yet he did not fall, merely floated as a blissful tingle washed over him. Maleah lifted her hand from a wound on her abdomen as her body was washed clean by the light.

Clarissa moved her hands slowly and hypnotically, trailing a ghostly afterimage, her flowing vestments billowing in a nonexistent breeze, untouched by the torrent that currently beset them. Eth’s body floated on the currents she weaved with lazy, sweeping gestures, healing the wounds despite their being no life in his body. Sparkling ribbons of blue and white, reminiscent of the pale scars that streaks the night sky circled Eth, bringing him closer as she beckoned. The scarred limbs of the tree and its burnt foliage rapidly came to life in the enveloping circle of light as it pulsed and expanded. She drew Eth into an embrace, delicately running her fingers through his rough and wild, silver hair, her expression one of righteous sorrow and saintly serenity; she became the embodiment of love and wisdom unseen before though undeniably there from the beginning. She pulled Eth closer, glowing brilliantly white as a low hum grew steadily louder. She tilted her head, locking lips with his, shining brighter than the sun as the ground rumbled and shook with the pulsations of energy she emitted.

The light dimmed and the bubble slowly collapsed upon itself as the floating bodies gently settled back on the ruined temple floor. As the light finally faded, Clarissa retained her ephemeral look, floating whilst cradling Eth against her bosom. Aichlan patted himself down, surprised at his lack of injuries.

“Clarissa, what the bloody hell did you just do?” Aichlan asked in astonishment, still confused as to what happened, though feeling slightly too good to really care.

“My darling Eth, wake and look to the eyes of dawn,” Clarissa whispered, stroking Eth’s hair.

The downpour vanished as quickly as it had come, it vanished, leaving them drenched in the dying light of the setting sun. However, that was all irrelevant as Eth began to stir.

“What the fuck…” Maleah breathed. “Wasn’t he dead?”

“Couldna been,” Donough nervously pulled his braided goatee, “musta jus’ been oot cold.”

Eth coughed and tried to sit up. “Did I kill ‘im?”

Clarissa shh’d Eth and pulled him close again. “Yes, you got ‘im.”

“Good. I’m fuckin’ beat.”

“Holy shit…” Donough mumbled under his breath.

“Right?” Maleah exclaimed.

“Alright, as many questions as we all undoubtedly have, we need to go back and check on Alice, and see if any of our Army have survived.” Aichlan gently nudged Clarissa. “Can you walk? Clarissa?”

“She’s sleep lad.” Eth gently removed himself from her embrace and took her in his arms. “Alright then, let’s go lass.”

With a groan and a stretch, Eth stood, carrying Clarissa in his arms towards the stairs back down to the road. As Maleah and Donough slowly made their way through the rubble, Maleah paused to glance back at Aichlan, who remained rooted in place.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Aichlan shuffled his feet and kept his eyes down. “I want to confirm he’s actually…”

Maleah quickly turned around and continued on her way. “If you find him, leave him.”

Aichlan idly kicked at the rubble as he meandered through the ruins, killing time until he was certain the others were gone. He took a deep breath and held out his hands and turned his defiant gaze towards the heavens.

“Well?” he shouted into the evening, “What now?”

His challenge went unanswered, only the sound of the wind through the leaves of the impossibly tall tree broke the repugnant silence. There was no fanfare, no golden rays of heavenly light enveloped him; there was no Garrick to berate and ultimately congratulate. All he had was the emptiness the pyrrhic victory afforded him.

Aichlan reflexively whipped around and drew his sword at the sound of rubble being displaced. In truth, he did not know what to expect; part of him hoped it was that Rowena returned to life, but he was not at all surprised to see Osric crawl up from the ruin. He swore in Xanavien as he dusted himself off, shaking copious amounts of dust from his long, frizzled locks. Aichlan felt his heart quicken as a primal fear welled up from his guts.

“Before you ask, I was not dead.” Osric swore as he discarded his burnt and ragged cloak. “And I’m not entirely sure the elf was either, but that’s irrelevant.”

Aichlan charged, and Osric easily halted him with a flick of the wrist.

“Oh, enough.” Osric said with surprisingly human exasperation. “I would gain nothing through continued conflict. Neither would you.”

“So, I should let you just walk away?” Aichlan demanded as he shakily rose to his feet. “After all the lives you’ve destroyed, the nation’s you’ve crushed and the horrors you’ve unleashed?”

Osric flicked back his hair and cut his eyes away. “It’s more palatable if you don’t frame it as such.”

Aichlan slowly circled in, and was halted by a bolt of black lightning at his feet.

“You killed Renata, killed me,” Aichlan looked down at the scorch marks at his feet and took a defiant step forward, “You destroyed the homeland of my friends and the mother of my child. You don’t get to just walk away.”

Osric threw out his hands in a gesture of what the hell. “That puppet of the gods you knocked up and promptly forgot about? That’s what you’re upset about? As for your death, you look plenty alive to me.”

Aichlan leveled his blade and lunged forward, only to be repelled by a bolt of black lightning. Aichlan scrambled to his feet and charged again, knocking aside Osric’s counter spell with his sword, taking a javelin of black energy to the chest, tearing through his armor as if it were cloth. He pushed himself back on his feet, coughing up blood as his wound bled like a fountain.

“Idiot.” Osric spat in disgust. “I can be on the other side of the planet in moments, leading a rewarding life excavating the ruins of Agrardya.”

“Why don’t you then?” Aichlan wheezed as he stumbled forward.

Osric frowned. “You’ve won your victory, swear off this blind, ill-conceived vengeance and we will never cross paths again.”

Aichlan dropped to one knee and quickly forced himself back up. “What, afraid I’ll track you down and stab you in the back.”

Osric’s golden eyes narrowed, causing Aichlan to freeze in place. “I don’t like loose ends.”

“What do you propose?”

Osric visibly relaxed. “Go home, live out what remains of your life under the tyranny of children. Allow me to go dig in the dirt in some distant corner of Silex.”

A fuzzy black halo had formed around Aichlan’s vision as blood continued to pour from his chest. The water in his canteen had been treated with a drop of Clarissa’s blood, he had a few swallows left, hopefully enough to seal the wound. He could hobble or roll his way back down the winding road to receive a proper healing. As it stood, he had no chance against Osric, and was increasingly aware that he never did. The mage was a master of spacing, preventing Aichlan from closing the distance, whittling him away with long ranged magic. The match-up was doomed from the start, something Aichlan had done his best to push from his mind, surrounded by a diverse cast of friends and allies as he was. Now, he stood alone.

“I’d be a fool to let you walk,” Aichlan rasped, clutching the gaping hole in his chest in a vain attempt to staunch the bleeding, “you’d only regroup and mount this mad campaign again.”

Osric snapped his fingers, harassing Aichlan with several bolts of black lightning. “Don’t try to play the role of paragon now you adulterous, self-serving sack of shit. I could just as easily kill you and be done, I am attempting to be civil.”

All of his struggles, all of the sacrifices Aichlan had made thus far were all for naught, he never stood a chance against this menace. All Aichlan wanted now was to go home, to be with the woman he loved and the son she had blessed him with. The gods be damned; their scheming, manipulation, and general disregard for the feelings of mortals, warranted nothing but contempt. Whatever task they had set him on, he had done his best, and that was all that could be expected. Aichlan bowed his head and allowed an ironic chuckle before the pain forced him to stop.

“Sure, I don’t really give a shit anymore.”

“Hm. So you aren’t a complete idiot.” Osric turned to leave, pausing to cast a sidelong glance over his shoulder. “Do…you want me to drop you off somewhere? You look ready to die at any moment.”

Aichlan shook his head and fumbled with his canteen. “No, you son of a bitch. I’ll walk.”

Aichlan liberally splashed his chest with the water, stifling a scream as it hissed and smoked, sealing most of it over the course of several agonizing moments. The distinct twang of an arrow being loosed and the accompanying thwack of missile impacting flesh rung out through the ruins. The shock on Aichlan’s face mirrored Osric’s, who slowly looked down to the arrowhead protruding from his chest. The sorcerer stumbled forward as another struck his back, and yet another knocked him to the ground. Aichlan strained his gaze as the blurry images went in and out of focus. A familiar lanky, silver haired rogue stood with bow in hand as a bishop and a Rhodarcian soldier briskly marched towards Aichlan.

“Lord Aichlan,” The Rhodarcian, General Izarius, brusquely lifted Aichlan to his feet, “It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

Before he could respond, he felt the pinch of steel biting into his neck, the surge of blood filling his mouth, followed by the familiar cold nothingness of death.