“I cannot lose you!”
Her hands trembled in his, and he suddenly saw the moment from her perspective. She loved him, and feared his diminished strength, feared losing him to Bartoth. He was mortal, his flesh weak, his magic weaker.
“Will you love me if I do not fight?” he asked.
Tears came to her eyes but she nodded.
“I may be different,” he said. “But I am still one who fights. Will you fight with me?”
She smiled through her tears and reached to her waist. Her tattoos pooled into ink that hardened into her sword. She leaned up and kissed him, and when they parted, she reached to her waist and drew her whip.
“Always.”
He reached for his magic and cast a bow. He turned and aimed at Bartoth and drew an arrow back, the arrow shimmering with power. The arrow flew at the rock troll and exploded on his chest, knocking him backward. He skidded on the ground, smoke billowing around his helm. Lachonus wisely took the opportunity to retreat, and the cavalry rushed back to the road. Rilia skidded to a halt and jumped off her horse next to Senia. Blood was on her armor and cheek, her eyes ablaze with anger.
“Tell me why you need my son.”
Senia regarded her with anger. “You would deny me after what you have seen?”
“He is my son,” she snarled. “If you want him, tell me why.”
“He is the only one that can defeat Serak.”
All four whirled to find Gendor in their midst. The assassin held his scythe low and ready, but did not attack. Rilia leapt in and swung her sword, but the scythe moved with shocking speed, knocking her sword from her grip.
“Why do you not strike us?” Senia asked.
“Serak ordered me to kill Lachonus,” he replied. “And I must obey. Sadly, he neglected to say when, or if I should kill those that stand in my way.”
Rilia growled and jerked her head stubbornly. “Why him?”
“We need one born of man, elf, and dwarf,” Senia snapped. “Is it him?”
Bartoth groaned and rose to his knees. He shook his head as if to clear it, and then picked up his fallen sword. Willow cursed when he rose to his feet and cast about, looking for who had fired such a dangerous arrow. When he spotted Light, he leveled his sword at him.
“You,” he snarled.
“You remember me?” Light asked, pleased.
“I’ve looked forward to our next meeting since that day in the north.”
“The day he made you apologize?” Willow asked.
Bartoth released a snarl and charged. Lachonus shouted an order and the cavalry parted, providing a path for the giant warrior. Light braced for the impending duel, his anger rising and bursting through his body.
“My son is who you seek,” Rilia said, raising her chin. “He will destroy Serak for you.”
“Get Lachonus and the cavalry out,” Light said to Senia. “We’ll keep Bartoth busy.” He glanced at Willow and she nodded.
Lachonus was on the opposite side of the road. His horse was dead, and he was staunching the wounds of one of his men. Light aimed his bow again and fired at Bartoth, but the troll swung his sword, deflecting the arrow into the sky, where it detonated. Light altered his bow into a sword and leapt into the road, sprinting for the rock troll with Willow at his side.
The two parties converged and Light leapt over Bartoth’s flashing sword, coming down behind him. The troll skidded to a halt and spun, driving a fist into Light’s chest. The air burst from his lungs and he went tumbling onto his back.
“Not so fast as you were before,” Bartoth said with a chuckle.
Light spit blood. “Fast enough.”
Bartoth looked to his shoulder and found a small shard of magic blinking there. He reached for it, but it burst into a rope that embedded into the earth, yanking him to his knees. He snarled and reached for the chord, but Willow landed on his arm and stabbed her sword into the chink between his shoulder plate and his helmet. She leapt away, her sword bloody.
Light’s anger flooded his body and his magic burst from his skin. He cast his large sword and swung, slashing across Bartoth’s back. The rock troll whirled, his sword moving at breathtaking speed. Light deflected it upward and conjured a crossbow out of light, which fired a bolt into Bartoth’s stomach, but it bounced off his armor.
Bartoth yanked the crossbow from Light’s grip and used it like a club, smashing Willow away. Light’s fury mounted as he watched Willow slump to the ground. He summoned the light around his body, the magic forming into flesh, making him swell to match Bartoth’s size. His sword grew into a giant maul, a weapon to punish.
He charged and struck, the impact of his maul on Bartoth’s helmet echoing across the bloody road. For several furious seconds the two traded blows, the whirlwind kicking up dust. But Light’s anger lacked its former might, and gradually it melted away until Bartoth smashed his sword through his maul, the light shattered into splinters.
Light ducked Bartoth’s next swing and struck the troll’s back, his broken weapon sharp enough to pierce the armor and dig into troll flesh. Bartoth reached an armored glove to the wound and laughed. Then he caught the weapon and yanked it free.
“Is that what you have been reduced to?” Bartoth said. “It is truly a pity to see one so mighty fall to such depths.”
“There is one benefit to losing my rage,” Light said.
“And what is that?” Bartoth stalked forward.
“Clarity,” he replied. “Unbridled rage is unbridled power, but it lacks wisdom and intelligence.”
“And what’s that going to do for you?” he raised his sword high.
Light pointed skyward, and Bartoth looked up—catching the full blast of a white dragon’s breath. He bellowed in anger but the freezing current covered his body in ice, seeping into his armor and binding him to the ground. Isray shook the ground as he landed, his frost breath continuing to freeze the armored troll.
