With heavy ragged
breaths Heath lumbered over the skeletons lining the marbled hallway
of the tower. Blood ran in rivulets down his scarred and jagged face.
One eye closed tightly shut as blood freely flowed from underneath
the lid. His remaining eye stared with a fierce determination at the
nearing archway.
It had been decades
for him to find the murderous bastard that his slain his men so
coldly and dispassionately. The warlock had torn through his band of
mercenaries in the dead night, harvesting their organs and blood for
his foul magics. Leaving Heath alive as though tormenting him
through the loss kindled some perverse desire to have him wallow in
his agony, the warlock had vanished just as quickly as he had
arrived. It had taken years to learn his name Salthas the Dreaded.
Legends of the man if indeed he was one spawned centuries. Though
powerful magic fueled his unnatural life Heath was certain his
blessed blade Shadowsbane could end his twisted, demonic life.
With one agonizing
step after another Heath drew closer to the archway of the spiraled staircase which
lead towards the towers study here his foe waited. Finally as he
approached the archway the shadows seemed to condense and take shape.
Morphing together several feet before him in a giant mass the
shadows coalesced into the tall yet thin and seemingly frail form of
Salthas.
“You should not
have come warrior, you'll only end up becoming mine as your friends
have before you.” His voice was a low death-like rasp and beneath
the shrouded black cowl of his robe his eyes gleamed a fierce orange
reminding Heath of a raging inferno. Heath lunged forward drawing the
claymore in one massive hand as he swung with all his strength,
intending to complete the forward lunge and bisect his opponent
before he could utter the words to a spell.
With barely a
motion Salthas held out his hand palm up and a tiny egg sized ball of
flame materialized an inch above the upturned palm. Waves of heat and
dry air blasted Heath back one step. Horror dawned on Heath's face as
he realized his blow wouldn't connect solidly, his sword blade
flailing inches before his foe's grinning death-like face.
With a victorious
cackle and this eyes flashing with delight Salthas poured a fraction
of his power through the ball of flame in his palm. Heath screamed
one final time in failure and in dismay as the radiating,
rippling, skin searing heating washed over him. Forgive me my
friends, I tried. I shall see you soon. Were
his final thoughts as flames overtook his form and encompassed the
entirety of the hallway spilling forth to consume the entirety of the tower in a torrent of
flames that could be witness in the night sky for miles.
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