Chapter 25: Divine Damage

I watch as black symbols form from the undead’s hand, and whips of black magic emerge from the ground, seeking the reaper and the guard.

The reaper’s spear cuts through the magic, and I can sense the powerful enchantments that enable it to do so.

The second guard draws his sword, activating an ability to block the attacks aiming at him.

A black whip slips past his defence, and he screams as it touches him.

Featherweight activates, giving me a boost as I leap towards the battle, the sword at my waist unsheathing in a burst of hazel light. It draws on my mana, powering the weapon built by an Angel.

My summoning spell would take too long to cast, the reaper being pushed back by the Undead Warlock. So my mind goes to the lesson I’d had with Shar.

Stillness, Transformation, and the many symbols of the elements I’d spent time memorizing run through my brain. I recognize the symbols for Transformation and Death in the Warlock’s spell.

A simple, and crude idea comes to my brain as my blade slices through the two whips that change their attention to me, the enchanted weapon shattering dark magic.

The mage had seen through my Hide Presence, and I don’t have time to consider my plan as I channel my mana through the wand in my offhand.

I channel the symbols for Life, and Stillness, aiming at the whips attacking the reaper.

The half-spell forms, taking more mana than I would like. But it works, as the spell extends in a wave from the wand, hitting the whips, and dispersing them.

The Warlock and the reaper both freeze, giving me time to reach the Warlock with my sword.

He steps away from my swing with a simple movement, all of his attention suddenly on me.

I step, and change the angle of my slash, remembering the footwork taught to me by my mentor.

The sword slices through the Warlock’s arm, and he roars.

Black Symbols fill the world around me as the warlock’s dead eyes meet mine.

My footwork shifts and I twist my body, Danger Sense warning me of several attacks approaching from all directions. As spears of darkness seek my death, the Warlock begins a second spell.

This spell looks far more powerful, and I don’t think my simple half-spell will be enough to counter the insane levels of magic heading my direction.

“Alvarana’s Silent Sleep!” Mana fills the air from behind me, and a faint presence surrounds us, almost, but not able to reach our world. The undead’s symbols flicker, but stay strong as the Warlock roars.

The presence hesitates, then my sword grows hot in my hand.

Black feathered wings extend around us as the full power of an Angel briefly touches our world, channeling itself through my sword. The black symbols shatter, and the Undead looks up with something approaching fear.

Then a spear pierces his heart as the reaper beside me continues in a quiet tone, “Alvarana’s Burial.”

The wings wrap around the undead like a soft embrace, then the magic animating the corpse leaves it, and it falls to the ground as a pile of skin and bones.

The divine presence leaves us.

The reaper and I heave with deep breaths, snow continuing to fall around us. I look down at my sword with wide eyes.

Everyone knows that the angels haven’t been able to touch our world for five hundred years. What just happened should’ve been impossible. Reaper spells were just that, simple spells.

I sheathe my sword, then pull my hood tighter over my head as I turn away from the exhausted reaper and the dead bodies.

“Wait!” The reaper calls from behind me, his voice even younger than I thought.

I stop, my hand tightening around the wand in my hand. I can’t afford the questions he’ll want to ask me, especially if there are creatures going after the same prize my map leads to.

The sound of knees hitting snow reaches me, “Thank you, Holy Paladin, for your assistance.”

I don’t answer as I walk away.

Shar lands on my shoulder, and I turn the corner, then I break into a run.

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As I move through the city, I see signs of other battles. Dead reapers, dead mages, and more undead cut down by the defenders of the city.

I make my way to the inn, a large monstrous undead speared by a giant spear, right outside its doors. Both its arms are chopped off, with fire still burning it.

Keve stands there with his face covered, his swords out and lit with fire. The spearman beside him who’d finished the job, wrenches his spear out, then hurries into the distance without question.

Keve turns to me, and I stop in front of him.

“You alright?” I ask.

He nods, then pulls his scarf down to reveal his face. “Why are they here?”

“We’ll talk later. Grab your things. We need to get on the road as fast as possible.” I head through the doors of the inn.

Keve follows without question, his swords still unsheathed.

Inside the inn, people hide behind tables, weapons ready.

I hurry through, ignoring them as we make our way to our room.

With the turn of a key, I open the door, then I take my pack off, and fill it with the small things I’d had out.