Isak turned and saw a wyvern leap forward over the heads of the cavalrymen who had been watching the fight in stunned silence, too awed to intervene in this clash of giants. The storm suddenly focused and lightning began to target the black-armoured figure atop the winged beast, but Kastan Styrax held his white hand above his head, projecting a steel-grey shield of magic. Though the lightning thrashed ferociously about the shield, it was to no avail — but it gave Isak all the time he needed.
He drew deeply on the Skull and sent wild tendrils of energy in all directions, before suddenly concentrating them on Styrax himself. Under the assault, the air between them seemed to distort and rip. He heard the mocking, exultant laughter of the Reapers in his shadow, and the groan of the Land itself as he let loose more magic than he could ever have even conceived of.
Styrax twisted his shield down, somehow fending off the attack once again, and the wyvern disappeared behind a curtain of blinding sparks.
Now barely able to see, working entirely by instinct, Isak loosed his hold on the magic, tightened his grip on Eolis and abruptly turned. He swept back the sword, and in one smooth motion, he threw Eolis…
… and the sword, moving as if in slow motion, pierced the incandescent chaos…
… and struck its target dead-centre…
Isak's legs gave away underneath him and he crumpled, falling almost simultaneously with Kohrad as the force of Eolis smashing into him made him stagger backwards before he fell to the ground.
In the next moment the storm of magic disappeared and pain engulfed his body. Isak forced himself to one knee, almost shrieking with pain. His lungs were wheezing agony, his throat a ball of flame inside his body.
Distantly he heard an animal cry of grief.
'Kohrad!' someone screamed, and a black-clad figure raced past. Isak lurched almost drunkenly, unable to focus his eyes, his body twitching in distress. He tried to turn his head, but his body refused
to obey. More shouting, then a blow to the side of his head that laid him out, face-down in the ruined earth.
Hands grabbed him and dragged him upright, pulling the helm from his head. A face appeared, contorted with rage and hatred, shouting something, but he couldn't understand a word. Then he heard, in heavily accented Farlan, 'You will burnl You will suffer agony with no end!'
Isak managed to choke out a laugh. 'You think so? I'm dying,' he whispered, the effort of speaking bringing tears to his eyes.
'Not before I'm finished with you!' Styrax roared. He knelt down next to Isak and smashed his mailed fist into the side of Isak's head.
Stars burst before his eyes as an explosion of pain overrode the previous agony, but Isak forced a smile onto his face. 'Paradise awaits me,' he wheezed. 'I am one of the Chosen — and now I die.'
A dark veil appeared around them all and through the one eye still working, Isak could see the Land suddenly appeared darker and colder. Death's hand rested on his shoulder.
'I will not allow it!' Styrax screamed in frustration and fury, smashing Isak once more to the ground.
At a signal, his men laid out the Farlan lord on his back, pinning down his arms and legs, though he was too weak even to stand.
Isak coughed torturously, trying to turn his head as he vomited up stinking black blood.
'You will never see the Land of No Time,' Styrax snarled, digging his black-iron-clad fingers into Isak's flesh, 'you will see no Last Judgment!' He ripped the Crystal Skull from Isak's cuirass and tossed it aside almost carelessly, then punched Isak in the face, shattering his nose. With a thought he called his black sword and Kobra flew into his hand.
Isak felt the Menin lord open himself to the awesome power contained within his own Skulls, and a whirlwind of dark flames sprang up around them. His vision cleared a little as his body gratefully drank in the wild surging magic, but it did nothing to assuage the pain running through his blood and bones. His damaged eye bled freely down his cheek, and the fire in his throat continued unabated.
He heard Styrax howling words he didn't recognise, and he felt the earth writhing and shaking underneath him.
'Pain I promised you,' Styrax spat, 'and pain you will receive!'
He lunged forward and the fanged sword split Isak's cuirass and drove deep into his stomach. Isak screamed hoarsely as the blade split his gut, both searing hot and burning cold. Styrax yanked the blade up and down, trying to make it as excruciating as he could, ripping Isak open from groin to sternum and driving the breath from his body. The air around them filled with a terrible chittering sound, the voices of daemons sweeping in.
The darkness grew thick and cold as Styrax gave Kobra one last twist. He was rewarded with another cry, and that won, he raised his boot and stamped down on Isak's broken face.
'Think of the life you took,' he said, his own voice jagged with grief, 'as your skin is torn from your body in Ghenna! The Dark Place welcomes you.' He jerked out Kobra and Isak fell, feeling the earth give way beneath him as he plunged deeper and deeper. The darkness enveloped him and the cries of daemons became deafening.
He screamed.
ENDGAME
Mihn pulled his tattered leather coat around him as he looked out over the lake, watching the raindrops forming concentric circles on the otherwise still surface, trying to work out why he felt so uneasy. The rain had been falling steadily since early morning and the solid mass of slate-grey clouds hid the sun so completely he could only guess the hour.
The only habitation in sight was a squat cottage in bad need of repair. A battered fishing boat had been dragged up the shore away from the water and left under a crude cover made of loosely woven branches covered with a ragged tarpaulin. The cottage had been abandoned for two seasons now, so Mihn had requisitioned it for himself. He valued solitude quite as much as the witch did, and had no intention of imposing on her hospitality for longer than absolutely necessary.
There was no sound other than the rain falling on water and ground. He looked back at the trees behind him, hoping to see gentry peering out from the shadows, but there were none. It looked like their curiosity had finally been appeased, and they had decided to accept the presence of a human as impossibly stealthy as they themselves were. Their absence made Mihn feel strangely alone.
He had been staring at the water for too long, lost in his disquietude, but nothing had changed. He was considering taking the little rowboat out so he could try his hand at fishing when a distant sound caught his ear — running footsteps, maybe?
Scarcely had he turned back to the forest when a girl of no more than twelve summers came careening down the path through the trees and stumbled to a halt in front of him. As she stared open-mouthed at the former Harlequin, he took note of her own appearance: bright blue eyes and a reddened nose peeking out from under a sandy mess of hair.
'Are you looking for me?' Mihn asked softly, trying hard to sound friendly and approachable, but the very act of speaking almost spooked the girl into scampering back the way she'd come.
'What's your name?' he tried again.
The girl swallowed. 'Chera, sir.'
Her faded dress had red flowers poorly embroidered along the hem. He guessed it had belonged to at least one older sibling before her. He gave a little bow. 'Hello, Chera. I am Mihn ab Netren ab Felith. Have you been sent to find me?'
'Y- Yes, sir. She's screamin', sir, that brown girl, screamin' like the creatures of the Dark Place is after 'er.'
Mihn frowned at the child's choice of words and she edged back a step, frightened by his expression.
He smoothed out his frown and asked gently, 'Did the witch say I was to return with you?'